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It starts with a bang.
Or rather a resolute thud, a deep vibration through the wall that makes the headboard of the bed shake and tremble. Jonghyun sits up with a frown, looking back with an accusing glare, but of course, nothing looks back at him except the floral wallpaper of the hotel walls. He holds his breath, straining his ears, but there’s no other noise that follows.
He pulls the covers over his chest and lays back down, staring up at the textured swirls carved into the ceiling. Except, sleep doesn’t come to him, the mattress too foreign under his back, sheets too scratchy against his skin, any progress he’d made towards drifting off gone like the wind. He has a tough time sleeping in his own bed as it is, but the insomnia only gets worse when they’re touring.
Then there’s another thump—this one a little quieter, a bit more distant like something hitting the floor. Jonghyun sits up again, trying to remember whose room is the noise coming from.
Was it Kibum? No, Kibum took the room closest to the elevator. Jinki and Minho should be on the other side of the hallway with their manager, which only leaves one person.
Jonghyun digs under the folds of the duvet cover, patting around until he finds his phone hidden between the layers. The brightness of the screen blinds him in the dark room, and he squints, blearily finding the contact he’s looking for.
Me
Taeminnie
Why are you awake and making so much noise
Its past midnight
Almost as soon as he hits send, there’s more noise. But this time, it’s talking, quiet, hushed voices, words Jonghyun can’t make out. His frown deepens and he all but presses his ear against the wall—the only thing he can figure out is a deep voice, one that doesn’t sound like Taemin. Another man. Minho? No, it’s deeper. It doesn’t sound like their manager either and it’s too clear to be coming from the TV.
A few moments later, there’s a slamming of a door, loud enough that Jonghyun swings his legs out of bed. Did Taemin go somewhere? Who is that man? Who left? Jonghyun’s heart picks up as he racks his brain for an explanation, but none comes to mind. He picks his phone up again.
Me
Are you okay?
He doesn’t expect Taemin to respond, not when he takes 1-2 business days to reply to Jonghyun on an average day, but Jonghyun is seconds away from spam calling him until he picks up. He slides out of bed and barely remembers to grab his key card before slipping out of his room. The hallway is silent besides the hum of the air conditioning, and whoever it was is long gone now.
He stands outside Taemin’s door and hesitates for a long moment before knocking. Quietly at first, but when there’s no response, he knocks louder.
A minute later, the door opens and Taemin’s face appears through the crack. He looks confused, eyes wide.
“Jonghyun-hyung? What are you doing here?” he asks. He doesn’t open the door any further.
Jonghyun’s frown must be permanently etched into his skin. “Open the door.” His voice comes out scratchy and rough—he hasn’t spoken much after the concert.
The door creaks open just a few more centimeters. “What is it? Why are you here?”
For some reason, the tone of his question gets on Jonghyun’s nerves. He pushes the door open wider and Taemin stumbles back, just enough for Jonghyun to let himself inside and close the door behind him.
When he turns, he scans his eyes over Taemin’s appearance. Face flushed, hair dripped wet, a bathrobe wrapped around his body, loosely tied at the front. He did a shoddy job of removing his stage makeup, eyeliner smudged under his lashes, grey and black smudged like a racoon, lips scrubbed pink.
“Who was that?”
Taemin straightens up imperceptibly. “What do you mean?” he asks after a millisecond. It would sound natural to anyone else, but Jonghyun knows Taemin too well to not see right through his lies.
“The man that was in here a few minutes ago,” Jonghyun says, then maneuvers around Taemin. The bed is a mess, covers strewn to the side, a pillow at the foot of the mattress. A pair of jeans lay in front of the nightstand, a single sock abandoned beside it. All of it incriminating.
“What the hell, hyung?” Taemin demands, grabbing Jonghyun’s elbow and stopping him from going any further. “What are you doing?”
“Taemin. I’m not messing around.” Jonghyun needs a cigarette. Or a drink. Or both. He hasn’t slept enough for this. “Who the hell was in your room?”
And maybe it’s because of his voice or because he called him by his name, not Taeminnie, but Taemin’s expression shutters, closing off as his gaze flits away. He lifts a shoulder. “It’s none of your business.”
Jonghyun scoffs, shaking Taemin off. “None of my business?”
Taemin shrugs, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Unmoving.
Fine. Jonghyun spins around and looks down at the bed. Lo and behold, just beyond his finger tips is a pair of gray boxer briefs, laying between the sheets. He picks them up. “And what is this?”
Taemin’s face grows bright red as he darts forward, lunging for the underwear. “Give it to me—” He yanks it out of Jonghyun’s grip. “What is wrong with you? Stop touching my shit!”
Jonghyun hasn’t fought with Taemin in many years. Small arguments, sure—Taemin lives to tease and poke fun at his hyungs, but other than some short lived bickering, they don’t fight. Jonghyun gives into Taemin’s demands too easily and it’s something he takes advantage of. But now, something in Jonghuun wants to push and push, get an answer out of Taemin. This isn’t something he can let go and brush off.
“Who was it?” Jonghyun demands again.
“A hookup!” Taemin snaps, voice rising up to a shout. “He was a hookup. Is that what you wanted to hear? Huh?”
Jonghyun had a feeling that was the case, there was no other plausible reason why a random man would be in Taemin’s room so late at night. But still, a part of him had held a glimmer of hope, a sliver that it wasn’t the case. He shoves it all down, all the emotions that threaten to surface. Disbelief, anger, something deeper that makes his chest throb.
“Are you crazy? Hooking up with strangers in foreign countries—did you forget who you are?”
Taemin shrugs again, that stupid lift of his shoulders. Faking nonchalance, as if his cheeks aren’t pink with embarrassment. “I know who I am.”
“I don’t think you do.” Jonghyun rubs a hand over his face. Sure, the chances of some random man from Vancouver recognizing SHINee is slim, but it’s not impossible. Even a small chance is too risky, it’s too much, not when it puts their entire careers at risk. “I can’t believe you’d do something as stupid as this.”
The shame on Taemin’s face morphs into something uglier, brows scrunching together as he spits, “But when you’re dating around, it’s fine, right? It’s only a problem when it’s me. Right?”
“Taemin—”
“No, you listen to me,” Taemin says. He lifts his finger up, jabbing it into Jonghyun’s chest. “You barged into my room, came into my space and started acting like this. Do you do this to everyone? You—you—” He breaks off to laugh, shaking his head. “No, it’s just me, isn’t it?”
“I’m looking out for you. You’re making this out to be something it’s not.”
“I don’t think I am actually.” Taemin takes a step back, running his fingers through his hair, the damp bleached strands snagging and pulling. “You don’t get it, you never will.”
The conversation seems to be steering itself into another direction, into something that Jonghyun can feel slipping out of his understanding. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Taemin’s arm before he can step too far. He takes a deep breath and looks at Taemin again. Really looks at him. He’s shaking, a slight tremor to his body that mirrors one of a wet cat. His eyes are rimmed with pink, only emphasized by the smudged eyeliner, and he’s nibbling on his lips, ripping off the dry flakes.
“What do you mean?” Jonghyun asks, quieter, gently. He loosens his hold so Taemin can move if he wants to, but he doesn’t. He stays frozen, swallowing tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Taemin lets out a small breath. “Nothing. Nevermind. I’m just tired.” He rips his eyes away, staring at the floor between his bare feet.
The frustration Jonghyun felt is instantly replaced with concern, deep worry grips him. He steps closer. “Talk to me. What did you mean?”
Taemin pulls away completely, makes his way across the room and crouches in front of his open suitcase on the floor. He sifts through the piles of unfolded clothes, a mess of a mountain. “Just go to sleep, hyung.” His face is nearly buried in the suitcase. “I’m sorry I did this. It won’t happen again.”
Maybe Jonghyun should fuck off and go back to his room, tuck himself under the blankets and struggle to fall asleep for the next four hours. It’s an easy out, he can pretend this whole night didn’t happen and they can move past the awkwardness that’s bound to happen in the morning.
“Did that guy do something?” Jonghyun holds his breath, pausing before continuing, “Did he hurt you?”
Taemin shoots up to his feet. “No! He didn’t, God, no, that’s not it. Just—” He breaks off to rub a hand over his face, muttering something into his palms.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Taemin.”
“‘We didn’t even do anything anyways.’ That’s what I said. Happy?” Taemin scoffs. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight. Maybe the concert was too much, aren’t you tired?” Taemin steps around and disappears into the bathroom, pattering around. Glass bottles thunking against the counter. “Did you drink at dinner? Maybe you’re drunk.”
Jonghyun didn’t drink, but he wishes he did. If only to get through this conversation. “So you guys didn’t have sex?”
The rustling stops. “I don’t think I need to be talking to you about this.” Is all Taemin says.
He’s still in the bathroom and Jonghyun is still in the bedroom, left standing in the middle staring at the nightstand. Taemin’s phone, charger and tangled earphones. A half empty water bottle. An unopened condom. A bottle of lube.
“What did you mean when you said I’d never understand?” he asks again.
A hand appears on the doorframe, curling around the wood. “Jonghyun-hyung.”
“Taeminnie.”
There’s a long pause, so long that it feels like someone clicked pause on the conversation, a frozen scene, Taemin’s hand unmoving. Not a breath. Then he steps out, face glistening with some kind of serum, exasperation written across his features. “You’re not gonna leave this alone, are you?”
Jonghyun sits down at the edge of the bed, crosses his arms. He’s not going anywhere, not when the distress was so open on Taemin’s face, even if it was just for a moment before he hid it away.
A heavy sigh follows Taemin as he leans against the doorframe, hugging himself tightly. “You know… my situation. Dating isn’t easy for me—a lot of gay guys aren’t into...” He licks his lips. “That.”
“Oh.” Oh.
It’s been many long years since Taemin told them, long enough that it’s barely a passing thought to Jonghyun, or anyone else in the group. Of course, it’s not like he ever forgot but, there was nothing to think about either, nothing to second guess or ponder. Taemin has always been Taemin, their youngest—talented, hardworking, and unrelentingly kind. Nothing had changed after they learned the truth.
Taemin bulldozes ahead, voice rising in pitch. “It’s impossible in Korea, if not for being gay, then for being trans—I have no way around it. So I thought, I’m here, Canada is progressive, right? I’m a man too, and have my needs, maybe I could find someone who didn’t mind, someone who wouldn’t be grossed out and—” He hiccups. “It didn’t really work out the way I wanted it to, but it’s fine.”
Jonghyun is so stupid for not connecting the dots. He thought Taemin was talking about something else. He doesn’t know what exactly, but not this. He feels like an asshole, pushing him to answer and prying into his business.
Taemin isn't looking this way, but his ears are bright red and he’s staring holes into the palms of his hands, shoulders creeping up.
“Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun calls out.
Taemin jerks his head up. “Hm?”
He smiles sheepishly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain anymore. You know hyung is just worried about you, right?”
Taemin scratches his cheek. “Yeah, I know.” Another long moment stretches between them. Taemin jerkily straightens up. “Well, you should probably go then. We have a flight and I’m sure you didn’t pack.”
“So you guys didn’t have sex?” Jonghyun asks suddenly.
Taemin blinks slowly, as though he’s perplexed why Jonghyun keeps talking to him about this. Jonghyun is perplexed too, he doesn’t feel in control of his mouth anymore. “Not all the way, no.”
There’s knives in his throat, something scratching against him and choking him as he stares at Taemin’s brows fly to his hairline. “Why not?”
“Hyung.” It comes out like a gasp. Strangled. “Why are you…why do you want to know?”
Jonghyun shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just curious.”
Taemin stares at him in disbelief for a moment longer before he mutters, “I’m too sober for this.” He makes his way across the room and slumps onto the bed, fluffing up a pillow and leaning back against the bedframe. “Okay, since you’re so curious, go ahead. Lay it on me.”
“Huh?”
“With whatever you want to ask. Clearly this is something that’s been on your mind.”
It’s not exactly true, because no, Jonghyun doesn’t spend most of his waking hours thinking about Taemin and his sex life, or lack thereof, but he’d be lying if he said it’s never been a fleeting thought. Sex isn’t something foreign for their group, it’s not exactly a taboo topic, but Taemin has always been quiet during conversations. Nobody ever pressed him either and Jonghyun had always chalked it up to him being the youngest, too shy to speak up and share.
Though, he can’t deny it’s been a thought that comes up more often now than ever before.
“Why did you guys stop?” he asks.
Taemin hums, pursing his lips together. “We were just messing around and it was fine at first, but he—” he breaks off to shrug. “I don’t know, I can’t put it into words, but he was treating me like a girl. It made me feel terrible.”
“Oh. Is that… normal?”
“Unfortunately, yeah. Guys just assume I want to bottom and that’s my default. I don’t get a choice.”
“But you want to top,” Jonghyun says slowly.
“No, I—” Taemin lets out a heavy breath, then a small chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”
“You don’t have to, if you’re uncomfortable,” Jonghyun adds quickly.
“It’s not that.” Taemin’s lip quirks up in a smile. “I do prefer bottoming, it doesn’t make me dysphoric, but it’s different for every guy. I just hate when they don’t even ask.”
“That’s terrible. You could exclusively be a top.”
“Exactly.” Taemin’s fingers twitch, intertwining and fidgeting in his lap. His gaze is fixed on his bitten nails, pulling at his cuticles. “Any other questions?”
“Why have you never asked me?” The words slip out before he can stop them. Shit.
Taemin’s eyes dart up. They’re wide, brows fixed together. “What?”
Jonghyun licks his dry lips, scrambling to find the words. “It’s hard to find people, especially when we’re home. So why have you never asked me?”
When Taemin laughs, it’s not one that’s genuine or particularly pleasant either. It’s shrill, high-pitched and humourless and as it subsides and Taemin wipes nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes, his face grows somber.
“I’m not joking around.”
“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Taemin demands.
Jonghyun shrugs. “I think it’s a good solution. You know me, you’re comfortable with me, and I’d treat you well.”
Taemin’s jaw is slack. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence.”
Jonghyun shifts, scooching closer to Taemin. “Think about it.”
“No, you, think about it, hyung. You don’t even like men.”
“I’m pretty bisexual.”
Taemin’s mouth slams shut and he stares Jonghyun down, then shakes his head. “Fine, let’s say you are—”
“—I am—”
“You’re a romantic. You don’t sleep around with random people.”
“You are far from a random person, Taeminnie.”
“Yeah, but you don’t love me!” Taemin holds his hand up. “Not like that.”
Jonghyun chooses his next words very carefully. He lets the silence sit for a moment longer so the words can form in his mouth, sit on his tongue, and climb up his throat, inching up until they feel right. “What if I do?”
Taemin is on his feet before Jonghyun can even blink. “Don’t joke about stuff like that.”
“Why would I ever joke about something like this?” he says with a slight laugh. “I’m not that kind of a person, you know me.”
A million emotions shift over Taemin’s face, flickering and changing with each of his rapid blinks. He shakes his head, once, then twice, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This just—” He waves his hands. “Where is this even coming from? You’ve never…” he trails off.
For a second, Jonghyun worries that he’s made Taemin uncomfortable with his unplanned confession, it’d be the expected reaction. But the reddening tips of Taemin’s ears says otherwise, the stubborn flush on the tops of his cheekbones, and that avoidant gaze feels different now. Is he…?
Jonghyun doesn’t have a good answer though. There was no defining moment, no push over the edge that flicked the switch. It was more like it has always been inside him, lying dormant, murmuring under his skin for the right time to rear its head.
Somewhere between begging Taemin to teach him dance moves in exchange for picking out the cucumber in their convenient store kimbap, and becoming his biggest fan and cheerleader, writing lyrics about him, thinking about him as he sang and watching him become the man he is now—something changed.
It was simply as if Jonghyun woke up one day and realized that he was undeniably in love with Taemin.
But saying all that out loud is embarrassing and Taemin looks half a second away from locking himself in the bathroom, so Jonghyun gently smiles and beckons him closer. Taemin shakes his head, but Jonghyun insists. “Come here, I won’t bite.”
Begrudgingly, Taemin steps forward, just enough for Jonghyun to pull him closer, standing between his legs. “What?”
“It’s hard for me to say all this, confessing isn’t easy.” Jonghyun squeezes Taemin’s hands, his fingers slender and warm. “So give me some grace for this bad timing.”
Taemin hums for him to continue. Still pink and red all over.
“I don’t want you to think this is about sex, it’s not. Not in the slightest. I like you, Taeminnie. For you.”
Taemin’s eyes move across his face, searching for what? Jonghyun doesn’t know. But he lets it all out, lets it show an open book for Taemin to read, lines and lines of his affection.
“What if I want it to be?” Is what Taemin asks.
Jonghyun hesitates, then says with some struggle, “Then maybe I’d be a little hurt.”
“No, I mean—well, I like you too, hyung, but we can also have sex.” Taemin speaks so quickly that his words slur together.
Jonghyun sucks in a sharp breath. Oh. He likes him too. He wasn’t expecting that, not really. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in the first place, but a mutual confession never seemed to be in the books. He can’t stop the stupid grin from crossing his face, his heart pounding and fluttering and skipping and doing everything but its job.
He wants to ask what, when, how? Why? Was it for Taemin the way it was for him? Or has he known for much longer? Does Taemin get butterflies when he sings and watch him intently as he dances? Does he get jealous too when Jonghyun talks to girls? Nervous when their hands brush in the back of the van?
“So?” Taemin squeezes his hands, bringing him back to Earth. “Is that a no?”
Jonghyun’s brows fly. “Now?”
Taemin cocks his head to the side, lips twisted into a tiny pout. “No?”
Jonghyun folds immediately.
A gentle tug and Taemin falls easily into his lap. His legs wrap around his hips naturally, as if this is something normal for them. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as Jonghyun has. And he’s so close, his face just inches away, every puff of breath brushing by his lips. The last time Jonghyun has been this close to Taemin, it was years ago, back when he would fall asleep on the couch and Jonghyun would carry him to their room, the younger as light as a feather in his arms.
But now Taemin is grown, he’s a man, all broad shoulders and slim waist, staring down at Jonghyun with a look that he’s only ever seen on stage. Dark eyes, lidded gaze thick with desire, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lips. Jonghyun can’t stop staring at him, taking in every inch of him. Beautiful. He’s everything.
When Taemin leans in to kiss him, Jonghyun lets him take it. It’s a shy brush of their lips, Taemin flounders like he doesn’t know what to do, his hands steady on Jonghyun’s shoulders, but then he’s moving, tilting his head and pressing down onto Jonghyun’s lips. He tastes like mint, but there’s an underlying sweetness that clings to him, his saliva. Maybe it’s lipbalm, or maybe it’s just the way he tastes—Jonghyun swallows it all down.
It doesn’t take very long before the kisses grow deeper, he parts his lips at Taemin’s silent request, letting him take the lead and slip his tongue into his mouth. Taemin is moving fast, he can feel his impatience under his hands that ghost the fuzzy bathrobe covering his waist. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing anymore, simply inhaling whatever Taemin is giving him, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue along Taemin’s, curling up and brushing by the insides of his teeth.
Taemin isn’t a clumsy kisser. He kisses like he dances, confident, elegant strokes, each move calculated with just the right angle, the perfect amount of pressure for Jonghyun’s knees to go weak. He pulls away to take a breath, just far enough that Taemin whines, soft and bratty. He presses his lips against his jaw, peppering wet kisses down Taemin’s throat, inhaling the scent of generic hotel soap, letting the edges of his teeth trace over the delicate skin of his neck.
Taemin shudders, fingers tangling in the hairs at the base of Jonghyun’s neck. He’s pulling Jonghyun in closer, cradling the back of his head. He’s shivering, twitching as Jonghyun flicks his tongue over the sensitive spot on his sternum. His nails scratch against Jonghyun’s scalp, hips pushing forward, right into Jonghyun’s growing erection. Shit.
He pulls back. “Taeminnie.”
It takes a moment for Taemin to open his eyes, his pupils wide and impossibly black. “Yeah?”
“We should talk.”
“About?”
“This.” Jonghyun squeezes his waist. “What you want, what you like, what you don’t. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He’s a little nervous—the last thing he wants to do is accidentally say or do something that would set Taemin off and upset him.
“Oh.” Taemin blinks, then clears his throat. “I like bottoming, I told you.”
Jonghyun nods, encouraging him to go on.
Taemin laughs a little, shifting uneasily. Somehow he’s turning even more red, running down his throat and the tops of his chest peeking through the gaps of his bathrobe like tinder catching fire. “Um—anal is okay. Or… the front too. I just don’t like calling it…that.”
Okay. Off limits.
“Also no feminine names.” Taemin chews on his bottom lip. “I can’t think of anything else right now.”
“You can tell me at any point if there’s something you don’t like, okay?” Jonghyun kisses him. “Or if there’s something you do like.”
“You too.” Taemin laughs, shyly, prettily. “I want this to be good for you too.”
Jonghyun could probably come untouched just watching Taemin breath if he really wanted to, he doesn’t really think it’ll take much to please him. “Making you feel good makes me feel good.” He twists them around and lowers Taemin down to the mattress, tucking a pillow under his head. “Don’t hold back.”
Taemin pushes himself up to his elbows, watching Jonghyun pepper kisses down the sliver of his chest, goosebumps following the path of his lips. A gentle tug opens the front of the robe and the fabric falls off the sides of his hips, exposing him to the bright overhead lights. Then, something blocks his vision.
“Can you turn the lights off?” Taemin’s voice is quiet, barely audible.
Jonghyun nudges Taemin’s hand down, just enough to see his face over the top of his palm. “What about just the lamp, hm? I don’t want to go into this blind.”
Taemin thinks about it for a moment before nodding. Jonghyun quickly slides out of bed and flicks the bright white lights off and turns the bedside lamp on, flooding the room with warmth. Before he jumps back in, he pulls his clothes off, his shirt joining the growing pile on the floor. Taemin welcomes him with eager open arms, pulling him closer until the weight of his body presses him down.
When they kiss again, there’s no slow ease into it this time. Taemin kisses him feverishly, hands running over Jonghyun’s shoulders, exploring his back, the dip of his spine, He kisses him desperately, as if Jonghyun is the last bit of oxygen in the world and he’ll die without another breath—Jonghyun kisses him back just as urgently.
The edges of Taemin’s nails dig into his back and he hisses, pulling back from the wet kiss to lick down Taemin’s throat. God he wishes he could bite down, leave a blooming bruise on his pale skin, the delicate, thin skin. He’d like that, he’d be the type to ask for it too, wet eyes and wetter lips, Mark me, Jonghyun-hyung, please. Please.
Jonghyun’s hips jerk and the tip of his cock brushes against something wet. Fuck.
It takes everything in him to slowly trace down Taemin’s chest, feeling the man’s heartbeat under his lips, the soft lines of his abs and belly button. When he looks up, through the dimly lit room, Taemin is watching him carefully and he’s breathing impossibly hard, chest rapidly rising and falling. But there’s no objection, even as Jonghyun presses kisses to his hipbone, licking at the thin skin there, the bone poking through.
He looks back up. “Is it okay if I…” He trails off.
Taemin’s knee jerks and his hand slips in between Jonghyun’s face and his crotch, blocking his view. He pauses, eyebrows wavering. Then, “Yeah.”
Jonghyun presses a kiss against the back of his hand, over the tops of his sharp knuckles. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have to move your hand,” Jonghyun murmurs. It takes a few moments but Taemin withdraws his hand and spreads his legs enough for Jonghyun to settle in.
Jonghyun sucks in a breath. The first thing he notices is that Taemin is soaking wet, glimmering in the light, dripping down his hole and down his perineum. Jonghyun’s throat feels suddenly dry, he’s parched and violently starved.
He swallows hard, reaching up and using his thumbs to pull back the foreskin. His tongue darts out, gently pressing under the head of Taemin’s cock. He gasps, his back arching dramatically, and his hand landing on Jonghyun’s head. The reaction spurs Jonghyun and he licks a stripe across the tip again, flattening his tongue against the most delicate parts of him.
Taemin is impossibly sensitive, he’s somehow already shaking, each swipe of Jonghyun’s tongue has him jerking like he can’t help himself, grinding up into Jonghyun’s mouth. Jonghyun closes his lips around his dick and sucks gently.
“Fuck.” Taemin tosses his head back against his pillow, tugging on Jonghyun’s hair as he bobs his head, tightening his lips. “Yeah—suck me like that… fuck.”
Taemin’s words make Jonghyun dizzy, blood rushing down his body and fuck he’s so fucking hard, grinding into the bed like a dog, wanting friction, wanting more. As he focuses on sucking Taemin’s dick, he feels his chin getting wetter with every stroke, every flick of his tongue. He doesn’t taste like anything in particular, but there’s something addicting about the musky scent, he wants to lap up every last drop.
“Finger me, hyung,” Taemin demands, but when Jonghyun glances up to give him a questioning look, he says, “The front is okay.”
Jonghyun looks over his face again, just to make sure, before he’s pressing a soft kiss to Taemin’s hip and sliding a finger inside.
Tight. Hot. Wet. Everything encompasses Jonghyun’s finger, the squishy walls clenching and squeezing around him. He doesn’t keep his mouth off Taemin’s cock as he slowly thrusts his finger back and forth. Taemin lifts his legs, caging Jonghyun’s head between them but he doesn’t mind, even as Taemin’s thighs trap him and it’s getting harder to breathe. Truthfully he could die here happily, fingering the man he loves, tasting him on his tongue.
Another finger joins the first. Taemin shudders as he curls them upwards, but he relaxes easily, letting Jonghyun scissor his fingers and get him nice and open. He keeps his pace slow, letting Taemin get comfortable.
The grip on his hair tightens as Taemin tugs his head up.
“Everything okay?” Jonghyun furrows his brows. He can’t see Taemin’s expression well enough from here so he crawls back up until they’re face to face again.
Taemin nods, his cheeks flushed and glowing. Jonghyun combs his fingers through Taemin’s damp bags before leaning down and kissing him. Taemin winds an arm around his neck as they kiss sweetly and Jonghyun can’t help but smile like an idiot, so widely that Taemin ends up kissing his teeth.
“What?” Taemin asks, laughing. “What are you smiling for?”
“You. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.”
Taemin rolls his eyes. “Okay, stop.”
“No, I won’t.” Jonghyun kisses the tip of his nose. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I never thought it would be possible, having you like this. I still can’t believe it. You’re so beautiful.” Disoriented strings of words that would normally leave him embarrassed, but he’s too deep in to care. How can he care when the subject of his deepest dreams and desires lays in front of him, wide open for the taking.
Taemin smiles. “How long?”
“Maybe a year?”
His smile widens, gums peeking out. “I win.”
“How long?” Jonghyun tosses back.
Taemin shakes his head. “Not telling.”
Jonghyun is about to press when he feels a hand around his cock, sneaking between their chests and grasping him. His thumb brushes over the tip, sliding his pre-cum around the head and down the length. All words leave Jonghyun’s brain. Shit. He’s so hard, he doesn’t remember ever being this hard before.
Taemin drags the tip of his cock through his folds, nudging by his dick, soaking him in his wetness. He could slip right inside, he’d sink in so easily. “Fuck me, Jonghyunnie-hyung. I’m so wet.”
“Shit, Taeminnie. You have such a filthy mouth, you’re gonna make me come just like this.”
“So easily?” Taemin giggles, rubbing his cock through the slick mess between his legs again. The tip pushes against his slit, just as he gasps. “Ah, wait. Condom, hyung.” He points at the nightstand.
Right. Safe, responsible sex. Yes. Pulling away from the heat of Taemin’s body feels like torture, even if just for a moment, but Jonghyun grabs the bottle of lube and the condom and rips it open, pinching the tip and rolling it down over himself.
“You know, it’s really pissing me off that there was some other guy just here,” Jonghyun says suddenly.
Taemin snickers, his fingers muffling the noise as they linger near his mouth. “We didn’t get this far.” He lifts his foot and presses it against Jonghyun’s chest like a pat on his back.
“Still.” He squirts lube into his palm and coats himself liberally.
“You have nothing to worry about. Even if we did, I would’ve been thinking about you the whole time.”
Jonghyun narrows his eyes. “I don’t want to imagine that.”
“Then don’t and fuck me instead.” Taemin wiggles his toes against his chest then yelps as Jonghyun grabs him by the ankle and spreads his legs open.
Jonghyun holds his cock steady and slides inside Taemin. And shit. This is it. Taemin grips onto him, squeezing and clenching, he’s pulsing and it feels like Jonghyun is being eaten alive. Taemin’s eyes have rolled back into his head, fingers twisting into the sheets as Jonghyun bottoms out, all snarks and bratty remarks disappearing like the wind as he takes his cock to the hilt.
Instead, he moans, long and drawn out. “Oh my god.”
Jonghyun pulls his hips back, just the tiniest bit, before sliding back inside. He’s all the way in but he wishes he could get deeper, like he could climb inside Taemin’s body and stay there. He presses his lips against Taemin’s ankle, nosing along the hair on his calf.
“Feels good, baby?” The pet name comes easily, like many things tonight, slipping out before he can stop it.
Taemin preens and purrs like a cat. “So good, hyung. You fill me up so good.”
Jonghyun’s hips stutter, but he doesn’t say anything and focuses on not coming immediately and keeping a steady pace. His thrusts are shallow, circling his hips to grind up against the tip of Taemin’s cock. It seems to be exactly what Taemin likes—another moan rips out of him.
“Touch yourself, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun groans. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
It’s a sight Jonghyun commits to memory, Taemin’s hand trailing down his belly and grabbing his cock between his thumb and index finger, slowly jerking himself off as Jonghyun fucks him. He takes it all, his legs spreading even wider, his other hand up at his lips, sucking on his fingers.
Jonghyun is so close. He knows he is. He feels it, the blood rushing, the corners of his vision blurring, the headiness. He wants Taemin to come first, but he doesn’t think he can last that long, not with how hot Taemin feels around his cock, not with the way he’s staring him down.
“I’m gonna come,” he gets out.
“Yes,” Taemin hisses. “Get it inside me.” He demands it and who is Jonghyun to deny?
A few more weak pumps of his hips and he gasps as he comes, orgasming harder than he ever has in his life. He buries himself as deep as he can inside Taemin, like he’s planting a seed in there, further and deeper and deeper. It leaves him weak, his core trembling as he struggles to stay upright, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Taemin’s thighs.
But before he can move, Taemin digs his heel into his back. “Keep going. I’m close too.” His fingers haven’t stopped, he’s been jerking off while he watches Jonghyun orgasm like a pervert. He’s a pervert and so is Jonghyun. Through the burning sparks of his oversensitive cock, he pulls back and fucks into Taemin again. And again.
It hurts so much, but the pleasure he feels from watching Taemin gasp, back arching, eyes fluttering shut, it all beats the oversensitivity.
“You’re gonna come for hyung?”
Taemin nods his head, so violently it almost looks like whiplash. “Yeah.”
“Get me all dirty, huh?”
Taemin’s legs tighten around Jonghyun’s waist, knees caving in. “Fuck—fuck!” His orgasm mirrors an exorcism, his whole body clenching and pulsing, he’s shaking. He reaches out and yanks Jonghyun down, holding him tight as he milks his cock, hips jerking. Wet gasps against Jonghyun’s throat, mouthing against his skin as he comes down, he’s sweating and out of breath, eyes squeezed shut.
Jonghyun gingerly pulls out, wincing as his cock protests, the heavy condom dragging out behind unpleasantly. Taemin doesn’t even give him the chance to take it off before he’s grabbing him again. “Stay. Don’t move.”
“Okay, baby.” Jonghyun settles in, adjusting his position so Taemin is tucked into his side comfortably. He brushes his hair back, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Do you feel okay?”
Taemin takes a moment to inhale deeply before nodding. “More than okay.” A loopy smile crosses his face.
“Good.” Jonghyun tugs him closer and breathes in his scent, pressing his nose into his hair. Exhaustion hits him like a truck. The concert was only a few hours ago, yet it feels like he’s lived a million lifetimes today, and somehow destiny has brought him here, laying in bed with Taemin, skin to skin, legs tangled, and covered in each other’s cum.
He should get up and get them both into the shower, but sleep is a siren’s call, pulling him deeper and deeper into the water. And just as he’s about to be pulled under the waves, Taemin speaks.
“Six years.”
Jonghyun’s eyes open. “Hm?”
“You asked how long. Six years.”
Jonghyun looks down but Taemin’s face is buried in his chest, refusing to make eye contact. Six years. Two thousand one hundred and ninety days that Taemin has loved him, one-sided. And he had no idea. It both warms his heart and hurts him to think about. He holds Taemin tighter, feeling a knot in his throat.
“I’m sorry.”
Taemin smiles, he can feel it against his skin. “Don’t be.”
Jonghyun inhales shakily, swallowing the rock in his throat. “I—”
“Let’s talk about this in the morning,” Taemin interrupts. “I don’t want you to cry, hyung.”
“I wasn’t going to cry!” It’s a weak lie, he can already feel the overwhelming rise of emotions, the burning at the back of his eyes. A long beat passes. “Our flight isn’t until the evening, right? Let me take you out in the morning, we can grab breakfast.”
“Just us two?” Taemin finally lifts his head, eyes sparkling.
“Mn.”
“Okay.” A soft, sleepy smile. “I want to try Beavertails.”
“Whatever you want, Taeminnie. I’ll give you anything.”