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The apartment is quiet when Jinyoung gets home. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised—he lives alone after all—but after years of living with six other people, it still feels strange coming home to total silence even though it’s been months since he moved out of the dorm.
After staring blankly at his empty couch for half a minute, Jinyoung heads to his bedroom, eager to remove the makeup and grime that comes with a long day of filming outdoors. While he genuinely loves acting, and appreciates the longer process of starring in a drama, he hadn’t been expecting to feel as tired as he does at the end of each day. Still, there’s no room to complain: he’s acting in his first lead role, with cast mates who are as professional as they are easygoing, and best of all, he’s feeling creatively stimulated. He couldn’t ask for more from his job.
Jinyoung scrubs himself down perfunctorily in the shower and then settles down on his small couch with a mug of tea and a novel he’s been trying to finish for a while now. He only gets through three and a half pages before finding himself too exhausted to focus, his brain no longer processing the words on the page no matter how many times he re-reads each line. But he’s also wired and restless, and he knows it’ll be a while before he can fall asleep properly. At least he’s got tomorrow off to recharge.
Just as Jinyoung’s mulling over whether or not it’s too late to call his sisters to catch up, his doorbell rings. It startles him, the abrupt noise cutting through the quiet of his apartment. He frowns; it’s well past midnight and he doesn’t normally get visitors as it is.
He gets up and looks through the peephole tentatively. Once he clocks who it is on the other side, though, he immediately scrambles to unlock the door.
Jackson stands on his doormat with two large suitcases on either side of him, in a beanie pulled down low, and a tracksuit with black padded coat over it. He looks like the celebrity off-duty that he is, in his designer clothing and flashy accessories on display, but he also looks haggard and worn out, perhaps more so than Jinyoung’s ever seen him.
As far as he’d been aware, Jackson was meant to still in Hong Kong for some ad campaign. He hadn’t heard anything about his returning to Seoul, not from management or Jackson himself. It feels surreal to finally see him after months and he’s sure his surprise is evident on his face.
After a moment of prolonged eye contact, Jinyoung finally finds it in him to exhale, “Sseun-ah.”
At the sound of his voice, Jackson stumbles forward into Jinyoung like he can’t move fast enough. Jinyoung’s arm reflexively come up to hold him and feels him immediately curl forward to rest his forehead against Jinyoung’s shoulder.
“I missed you,” Jackson whispers, quiet in the way no one else knows he can be. “Sorry to just turn up like this. I landed an hour ago and wanted to surprise you tomorrow, but I just — ” Jackson pauses in his ramble to trail his nose across Jinyoung’s collarbone, over his sleep shirt, and up his neck. He stops below Jinyoung’s ear and inhales deeply. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
“I missed you,” he repeats miserably. “So much. Too much.”
Jackson’s anguish and longing hits Jinyoung like a punch to the gut. Even subdued like this, Jackson expresses himself so viscerally and so unlike anyone else Jinyoung knows, and he’s reminded of just one of the many reasons Jackson is so magnetic.
It used to make Jinyoung anxious that he wasn’t expressing his feelings obviously enough to Jackson, even after they got together. In comparison to Jackson it seemed like he was always falling short when it came to showing how much Jinyoung missed him when he wasn’t around, appreciated him when he was, cared for him whenever he could. So then he had tried to work on it, even though the words often felt like glue in his mouth, because he couldn’t stand Jackson not knowing his importance to Jinyoung. But Jackson had called him out on it almost as soon as he’d started. “Why are you acting so…unnatural?” he had asked, squinting.
It was then that Jinyoung realised that as much as Jackson loved grand gestures, the little things didn’t go unnoticed by him. Jackson had known what it meant when Jinyoung packed an extra granola bar to practice because he never woke up early enough for breakfast, or when Jinyoung unwrapped an extra straw for Jackson when they would get iced coffee, or how after a long day Jinyoung would let Jackson doze off on his lap while he read. He always heard the words Jinyoung didn’t say, and for that, Jinyoung was grateful, because for all that they were different, they also understood each other.
“Sseunie,” he murmurs now, matching the timbre of his voice to Jackson’s hushed tone. He pulls back just enough to cup Jackson’s cheek and see his face properly.
Jinyoung had missed him too, of course he did. The difference is that he’s better at using his distractions, whether it be work or a book, so that even though he still always misses Jackson, it’s not at the forefront of his mind at times when there’s nothing he can do about it.
Jackson, on the other hand, throws himself head first into his schedules as a way of not dealing (how he handles most forms of stress, really), straining himself physically and mentally, until whatever he was trying to bury away in the first place inevitably boils over and leaves him overwhelmed and powerless to put himself back together. It’s something they’ve talked about, Jinyoung urging Jackson to take better care of himself and Jackson saying he’ll try, but he knows Jackson doesn’t always remember to put his well-being first.
“Thank you for coming over,” Jinyoung says, grazing his thumb over Jackson’s cheekbone. As always, Jackson leans into it, pushing his face lightly against Jinyoung’s palm because there’s never a moment when he isn’t hungry for affection. “It makes me so happy that you came here first.”
Jackson gives him a soft but genuine grin, and oh, Jinyoung really did miss Jackson, even more than he’d let himself realize. Jinyoung returns his smile and moves to drag the suitcases into the apartment, so he can close the door behind Jackson.
He lines the suitcases up next to his shoe rack while Jackson removes his shoes and hangs up his padded coat.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Jinyoung offers, already turning toward his kitchen.
Jackson reaches for Jinyoung’s hand to stop him before he can get very far and shakes his head. “Just want you,” he says simply. Jinyoung softens, adjusting his wrist to tangle his fingers with Jackson’s.
“Then you have me.”
He pulls Jackson over to the couch, letting him straddle his waist as Jinyoung settles against the cushions, the back of the couch supporting his neck. Jackson leans over him, arms winding around his neck, and presses their foreheads together. Jackson’s knees look uncomfortably bent but he doesn’t complain.
“Missed you,” Jackson says again.
The stitching of the logo on Jackson’s beanie feels scratchy against Jinyoung’s skin but he barely notices, too busy trailing his hands up and down Jackson’s sides. He closes his eyes, revelling in the closeness he hadn’t been able to have while they’d been apart. Even just this—innocent touches, breathing the same air, sharing the same space—feels like a luxury after being deprived for months.
“I know,” he huffs out a laugh. “You mentioned.”
“Yah! Is it so annoying to hear?” He feels Jackson pull back accusingly, though he sounds playful. “Do you not like hearing how much your boyfriend’s missed you?”
Even with his eyes shut he knows Jackson’s pouting, pretending to be offended. He opens one eye, just to confirm, glad to see that Jackson’s mood already seems to be picking up a bit now. In fact, Jackson’s presence seems to be ebbing away at Jinyoung’s own exhaustion too, his buoyancy contagious as always.
Jackson glares at Jinyoung with his beanie still pulled down low over his brows, waiting for an answer. God, Jinyoung marvels, his boyfriend’s so fucking cute.
“I love it,” he appeases, pulling the beanie off and setting it aside so that he can run his fingers through Jackson’s limp hair. “I just can’t believe I finally get to hear it in person.”
“Okay,” Jackson concedes after a pause, like he’s letting Jinyoung off the hook. “You know me,” he shrugs, “I just love to complain.”
“And you also live to complain,” Jinyoung agrees jokingly. “So, you missed me. Anything else you want to make known while we’re here?”
Jackson makes a show of thinking about it, finger tapping his chin and scrunching up his eyebrows. “There is one other thing,” he nods.
“Oh?”
“You’ve been kissing someone else while I’ve been away.”
Jinyoung snorts. He should’ve known it would come up sooner rather than later.
“You mean Ye Eun? You know that’s just for the drama.”
Ye Eun’s become a close friend to Jinyoung, someone he’s now comfortable enough to text out of boredom, but if Jackson’s seriously jealous then Jinyoung’s going to have to work harder at making sure he knows there is no competition.
“I know,” Jackson says airily. The corners of his lips tilt upwards into a sly grin. “But I think you should make it up to me anyway.”
“Ah, noted,” Jinyoung plays along. “I’ll get right on it.” He pulls Jackson back down into his space, close enough that their noses are touching. “And how would you like me to make it up to you, Jackson-ssi?”
“Up to you,” Jackson replies, already sounding breathy and excited. “I’ll let you know afterwards if it was satisfactory.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility,” Jinyoung says. “Then again, I guess if you don’t like it I can try again,” he murmurs, pulling Jackson’s hips down to grind up into him, “and again. And again.”
Jackson inhales sharply, no doubt made aware of Jinyoung’s arousal, and suddenly Jinyoung needs to taste him. Keeping one hand on Jackson’s hip while the other sneaks up his sweatshirt, Jinyoung arches up to capture his lips and licks his way in. Jackson tastes like stale coffee and breath mints, not really Jinyoung’ favourite combination, but it’s Jackson and that’s enough to make him ravenous for more.
Maybe he’s rushing but he’s pretty sure Jackson’s been waiting for this too. It’s been months since they’ve had a moment like this to themselves. They’d been swamped with their last comeback and year end events even before Jackson had left for his solo activities and Jinyoung had started filming. So Jinyoung decides there’s time to slow down and catch up with each other later. Now, he just wants to give Jackson pleasure so good he won’t remember the time that’s passed.
They keep it up for a while, grinding and losing themselves in the taste of one another. Although they’re both tired, they’re no less passionate. Jackson’s starting to let out little moans that always drive Jinyoung crazy, the kind that makes him want to take Jackson apart just so he can put him back together piece by piece and do it all over again.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jinyoung groans. “Almost forgot how good you sound.”
“Yeah, because you’ve been busy kissing someone else.” He can tell Jackson means to sound petty, but he’s still writhing shamelessly against Jinyoung, obviously too worked up to actually sound put out. It lights up some primal part in Jinyoung, knowing that he can make Jackson lose focus like this.
“Get over it,” Jinyoung growls into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip hard enough to be a light warning. “If you think there’s anyone else I would even think of kissing, think of doing this with, I’m really going to have to set the record straight.”
“Oh right,” Jackson pants as if just remembering, breaking contact between their lips to grin in Jinyoung’s face like he wasn’t just threatened. “I saw that you had to do the take over and over because you kept going for her upper lip.” He says this smugly and Jinyoung knows a point is about to be made.
He narrows his eyes at Jackson. “Are you bashing my kissing skills?”
“Your aim was off,” Jackson continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “not because you’re a bad kisser—I would know—but because you’re so used to kissing someone taller.”
Laughter bubbles up unexpectedly from Jinyoung. He hadn’t even made that connection, but he supposes it would make sense with the way Jackson is constantly asking for kisses and the way Jinyoung caves in because he always ends up giving Jackson what he wants. Not that Jinyoung doesn’t love it too.
“So you’re boasting now?” he asks, raising his brows.
“Babe, I’m complaining so you can make it up to me. Hurry up, Jinyoung-ssi,” Jackson whines, as if he wasn’t the one to bring up the on-screen kisses in the first place.
“You’re ridiculous, and it definitely sounds like you’re just boasting, but don’t worry, we’re getting there,” Jinyoung assures him. “Get this off.” He tugs at Jackson’s sweatshirt.
Jackson’s eyes widen and he immediately obeys, hastily removing the sweatshirt and t-shirt underneath in one swift motion, throwing them to the other end of the couch carelessly. He settles his arms back on Jinyoung’s shoulders, fingers interlocking behind his neck, apparently ready for further instruction.
“God,” Jinyoung stares.
Even as tired as Jackson is, his lightly tanned body still glows healthily under the warm lighting of Jinyoung’s lamp. He rarely skips his sessions at the gym and it shows.
Jinyoung’s fingers start traveling up Jackson’s torso of their own volition, starting with his thumbs brushing the trail of hair on his lower abdomen. Then he flattens his palms as he feels his way up Jackson’s stomach, ribcage, then chest.
The air in the apartment is a little chilly since Jinyoung doesn’t like to turn his heating up too high, but the heat radiating off of Jackson’s body is enough to warm his hands. Still, Jackson’s nipples begin to harden from a mix of arousal and the bite in the air, and Jinyoung doesn’t resist to thumb at them so he can feel them perk up further.
Jinyoung watches raptly as Jackson’s lips part just enough to let out a heavy exhale, his eyelids falling shut when Jinyoung starts to use his nails a little.
Jackson gets so lost in it he doesn’t even notice the sudden honking coming from the direction of Jinyoung’s balcony. To be fair, it barely registers to Jinyoung himself when the honking turns into a short screaming match, all his senses attuned to Jackson and his body only.
When Jinyoung replaces one hand with his mouth, Jackson’s hips jerk and he starts to roll his ass against Jinyoung’s groin, his little moans starting up again. Jackson grabs a fistful of Jinyoung’s hair as he starts to use his teeth, alternating between nibbling on the nipple and then soothing it with his tongue.
Jinyoung is using enough force with his teeth that he’s pretty sure Jackson will be left a little tender, but he also knows how much Jackson loves seeing the marks on himself the next day. He once called Jinyoung after landing in Shanghai, complaining that he got horny on the flight there because he had caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Jinyoung had been unconsciously rough with him the night before, knowing he wouldn’t see Jackson for a while, and had left a smattering of bruises on Jackson’s shoulders and hips.
Though Jinyoung was embarrassed, he was also equal parts turned on and touched, knowing that Jackson had pressed into the bruises and felt a little less like he was leaving Jinyoung behind, and more like he was bringing some of him along.
One hand now free, Jinyoung reaches blindly behind Jackson to slip his hand beneath the waistband of his underwear, gripping his bare ass while trying to keep his teeth and tongue moving. He then slides his middle two fingers between Jackson’s cheeks until he reaches his hole. It’s too dry to slip his fingers in, but he circles firmly at the ring of muscle, feeling Jackson tense and relax beneath his fingertips.
Jackson makes a noise so loud and filthy it echoes through the emptiness of the apartment and his body falls limp against Jinyoung like a ragdoll.
“Jinyoung-ah,” Jackson pleads. “I can’t. I—” He angles his chest away from Jinyoung’s mouth and presses the heel of his hand over his sweatpants where the base of his cock is, overwhelmed by the phantom sensation of almost being fucked and the onslaught of pressure on his nipples. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s breathing heavily.
“Okay, baby, okay,” Jinyoung soothes, rubbing his hands along Jackson’s clothed thighs. He peppers Jackson’s collarbones with a few gentle kisses in apology, purposely avoiding his nipples.
“Sorry,” Jackson says sheepishly after a moment. “I wasn’t close to coming or anything but it was just….a lot.”
Jinyoung shakes his head. “I got carried away too, and not at the best place for it. Let’s move to the bedroom?” he suggests.
Jackson nods. “Carry me there, my prince,” he orders dramatically, with a flourish of his hand.
“Brat,” Jinyoung scolds, smacking his ass once. “I’m not carrying you. Get up.”
“No, seriously,” Jackson giggles. “I’m feeling a little shaky and my legs started to go numb from this position about ten minutes ago.”
“You’re the worst,” Jinyoung grumbles, but hoists Jackson up anyway with a grunt. Jackson isn’t light, weighing the same about Jinyoung, but his shorter frame at least makes it easier for Jinyoung to navigate their way to the bedroom.
Jinyoung drops him unceremoniously on his bed and Jackson sighs, stretching his limbs so he takes up the entire centre of the mattress. He starfishes a few times, before lifting his head to look around interestedly.
Jackson had only been to Jinyoung’s apartment once after he’d moved in and then promptly got swept up with schedules in China and Hong Kong, so while he has seen Jinyoung’s room before, he’s never really spent much time in it.
“You hardly have anything in here. It’s so plain,” Jackson comments.
Jinyoung shrugs. He’s never been one to keep things he doesn’t need, especially because he'd had the smallest room when the seven of them shared their first dorm. It had been the tradeoff of getting to have his own room and now, he supposes, he’s used to it.
He looks around the room himself, only noticing now the way it’s bare in a fashion that leans more towards boring than minimalistic. He means to tell Jackson about how his sisters having been pestering him about coming over to decorate, but when he turns back to face Jackson, his breath catches in his throat.
Seeing Jackson sprawled out, looking comfortable and at home on his bed stirs up that carnal part of him again, and he’s reminded of how hard he still is. Jinyoung knows he can get possessive, and right now, all he wants is to keep Jackson in his bed, pliant and willing, until he’s done with him.
He crawls over Jackson, bracketing his body with his own.
“Not so plain now that you’re here.”
“Cheesy,” Jackson remarks with a smirk. “Except I know you meant it in a horny way.”
Jinyoung presses his hips down against Jackson’s to let him know he’s not wrong, and Jackson moans, hands coming to frame Jinyoung’s face. “Yeah, you really are horny,” he whispers, before bringing their lips together again.
Their kisses grow heated, tongues sliding filthily against each other, hands beginning to wander. Jinyoung brings a palm down to Jackson’s hardness, caressing him over his sweatpants. One of Jackson’s legs is hooked around Jinyoung’s hip, allowing his hand more room to work with while he grinds up against it. Jinyoung can feel dampness beginning to seep through the front of Jackson’s pants and he groans. “So wet already.”
“So wet and so hard,” Jackson agrees, the words stringing together sloppily. “Want you so much, Jinyoungie.” Jinyoung hears the slur in Jackson’s voice and pushes up onto his elbows.
He was distracted before, but now he takes the time to assess Jackson properly under the brighter lighting of his bedroom, taking in the purpling underneath his eyes and the way his eyelids are drooping heavily. Jinyoung’s heart sinks knowing that Jackson hasn’t been resting nearly enough. So, as much as Jinyoung wants to ravish Jackson, and as much as he’s sure Jackson wants it too, he also knows it doesn’t have to be now.
Jackson’s body might be raring and ready to go, but he’s clearly well on his way to falling asleep, and Jinyoung doesn’t want to interfere too much with the first chance Jackson has at finally getting some well deserved sleep.
“Pants off, baby. Want you naked,” Jinyoung decides. He can bring Jackson off hard and quick, without them going all the way. He knows if he leaves Jackson hanging now that they’ve started, it would not only be unfair, but Jackson also won’t rest like Jinyoung wants.
“You too, babe,” Jackson grouses. “How are we supposed to get anywhere when you’re still fully dressed?”
Jinyoung just pushes himself off the bed with a peck to Jackson’s forehead, and heads to the bathroom, trusting that Jackson will do as he says. In the meantime, he wets a towel under warm water and squeezes the excess water out. Distantly, he hears rustling from the bedroom, clothes being thrown, and a quiet curse probably from Jackson stubbing his toe.
It’s strange, Jinyoung thinks as he stares back at his own reflection in the mirror, how he can look exactly the same as he did when he came home from work, but feel so different. He still looks tired, bags beginning to form under his eyes, and stubble having grown beyond a respectable amount. Yet, he feels renewed with purpose, knowing that the only thing he needs to focus on now is taking care of Jackson.
With that in mind, Jinyoung rids himself of his shirt, throwing it in the laundry basket, and heads back out into the bedroom in just his pyjama pants, pausing in his tracks when he sees the vulnerable position Jackson is in. He knows that Jackson tends to lose his filter when he’s tired or turned on, and tonight, he’s both. Still, Jinyoung wasn’t expecting this.
Jackson is in the middle of the bed, hips supported by a pillow as he lies on his front with his ass up and legs spread wide, and leaving nothing to the imagination. From this angle, Jinyoung can see the fullness of his balls and the curve of his cock hanging heavy between his legs. Jackson has a hand innocently reaching back to run his fingers over his dry hole, not pressing in or even rubbing, but just feeling. Jackson looks back and blinks slowly at Jinyoung when he notices his return.
“Ready,” Jackson mumbles, fingers still absently grazing his entrance.
“Jesus,” Jinyoung groans, unprepared for the obscene sight he’s graced by. “I was going to just jerk you off, but it looks like that’s not quite what you want, huh, Sseunie.”
Jackson shakes his head. “Want to feel you here. Inside.”
Jinyoung groans again and makes himself move, placing the wet towel by the bedside and checking to make sure that the bottle of water he usually keeps next to him at night is filled. He yanks his bedside drawer open, quickly locating the bottle of lubricant he keeps there but hasn’t made much use of since moving in.
“So filthy, sweetheart,” he says as he gets behind Jackson, running a hand down his spine.
“You’re the dreamboat looking like literally everyone’s wet dream,” Jackson complains, arching his back. “I don’t even know whether to be happy or upset that everyone knows what you look like in the shower now.”
Jinyoung cracks up and smacks Jackson’s ass lightly. “Weren’t you the one telling me to be more confident about showing my body off?”
“I meant that you should wear more tank tops or something! I didn’t think you’d be waxed and practically naked on TV,” Jackson protests, craning his head back further to scowl at Jinyoung. He gestures to Jinyoung’s body like it’s personally insulted him. “You didn’t have to work out so hard for it either!”
“That’s my fault too?” Jinyoung snorts. “Even though the whole thing was just part of the script?”
“Yes,” Jackson sulks. “I shouldn’t have to share.”
Just like that, Jinyoung feels another part of himself thaw. He’d missed Jackson’s put-on petulance and jealousy. He leans over to give Jackson a kiss and nuzzles at his ear. “Gonna make it up to you,” he promises.
“Well, you’d better get started,” Jackson grouches. “I’ve been waiting.”
“Trust me, Jackson, I’ve been waiting too."
Leaning back on his knees, Jinyoung runs his hands over the globes of Jackson’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart just enough to expose Jackson’s entrance. Jinyoung can’t help but stare, transfixed, as his hole quivers ever so slightly in response.
If they had all night, he’d take his sweet time getting Jackson wet and loose with his tongue, until he’s squirming and sweating and begging to come, but they don’t; he knows Jackson is far too desperate for that now and he doesn’t want to drag it out. Not tonight.
Instead, in an act seemingly too chaste for what it actually is, he settles for dropping a kiss onto Jackson’s hole. Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow he’ll take all the time he wants, stripping Jackson bare over and over like he’ll somehow see into his soul through his body.
Jackson sighs and pushes his ass back impatiently, clearly wanting more.
Jinyoung grabs the lube, squirting a hefty amount onto his fingers. The click of the bottle rings loud in the room and he hears Jackson’s breath hitch in anticipation. Smiling to himself, Jinyoung rubs the lube between his fingers, doing his best to warm it up.
With his clean hand, he keeps Jackson’s cheeks parted, and with the other, begins to caress light, gossamery circles over his hole. He starts off gently, making sure to coat Jackson’s rim with lube, and increasing pressure as Jackson gets used to the sensation. “So soft here,” Jinyoung mutters absently, almost as if he’s talking to himself.
Soon, he deems Jackson relaxed enough for more. “Gonna go in with a finger now, alright? Let’s get you nice and open.”
Jinyoung waits for Jackson to moan his assent before he pushes his index finger in, so torturous and slowly that he swears he can feel every second that ticks by. When he’s got a finger in as far as it’ll go, he checks in with Jackson. “This okay, sweetheart?”
Jackson only exhales and nods, canting his hips slightly, signalling for Jinyoung to move. Jinyoung pulls his finger out slowly, until just the edge of his fingertip is holding Jackson open, and then pushes back in with more force. He lets Jackson take the lead, only adding fingers and pressure when asked, all the while trying not to let himself get distracted by the steady trickle of pre-cum forming a small pool on his sheets.
At some point Jackson asks, “Are you going to take your pants off at all?”
“Maybe later,” Jinyoung answers vaguely, his full attention on Jackson’s ass and the way it’s swallowing his fingers whole. “So hot, baby, opening up so easily for me. Want to make you come on my fingers.”
In an instant, Jackson’s back to moaning and writhing on Jinyoung’s fingers, question forgotten.
After what feels like an eternity, Jackson’s panting with three fingers inside him, and Jinyoung’s breathing heavily.
“Sseun-ah,” Jinyoung moans, parting his fingers to stretch Jackson further before thrusting them in again. “Look at you, you’re so damn easy for it.” He hasn’t even been focusing on Jackson’s prostate; not avoiding it, but not deliberately seeking it out either.
“So g-good,” Jackson stutters, all vocabulary apparently gone out the window now, drunk on pleasure as he is. “So, so good, Jinyoungie. Feels so good.”
“Gonna make you feel even better,” Jinyoung assures him, crooking his fingers just so. He knows he’s found what he’s after on the first try when Jackson makes a shocked noise and collapses onto his forearms like he physically can’t hold himself up any longer. Still, he keeps his ass up, and Jinyoung’s fingers inside.
“There you go,” Jinyoung says, awed. He never tires of this sight—Jackson willingly laid out for his mercy—or the rush of fondness that comes with the knowledge that he would entrust Jinyoung with his body this way. “That’s the spot, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jackson whimpers, face squished against his arm. Distantly, Jinyoung is aware that his own dick is achingly hard in his briefs and he hasn’t touched himself once all evening, but it doesn’t really register. All that matters is the burning need to make Jackson feel good. Jinyoung might not be able take Jackson’s place in shouldering the weight that he carried when he stepped through the door, but he can help make Jackson forget, even just for a moment.
Jinyoung begins really fucking his fingers into Jackson relentlessly where he is most sensitive, no longer holding back, while his other hand grips Jackson’s shoulder for leverage. “Fuck,” Jinyoung swears, folding himself along Jackson’s back so that his lips are pressed up against Jackson’s temple. He starts to run his mouth, spewing out lines of filthy nonsense into Jackson’s ear.
“You drive me so fucking nuts, Jackson, letting me play with you like this,” he growls. “I could do this forever, baby. Love the way you feel around my fingers. So tight, like you’re taking my cock.” He feels lightheaded imagining how it must look, the way Jackson is clenching around his fingers with every push and pull of his wrist. “Is this why you came over? So I could make you feel good? Does it feel good?” He punctuates each question with a shove of his fingers.
“Please,” Jackson begs, gasping wetly, knuckles white from fisting the sheets beneath him. “Jinyoungie, please.”
Jackson doesn’t say the words, but Jinyoung understands he’s asking to come — for Jinyoung to make him come.
Jinyoung knows from experience that if he keeps going fast and hard for long enough, he can make Jackson come with just his fingers. But tonight isn’t about testing Jackson’s patience or pushing his limits, so he reaches down to the tight space between Jackson’s hips and the pillow supporting him, finding Jackson’s leaking cock and gripping it firmly.
“Show me, sweetheart,” Jinyoung breathes, voice husky and cracking from exertion. “Show me how good it feels.”
As Jinyoung begins to strokes his cock, Jackson makes a noise like he’s dying. He fucks up into Jinyoung’s fist, following Jinyoung’s rhythm, then fucks back onto the fingers still thrusting into him, chasing his pleasure with desperate, high-pitched moans.
“Gonna come,” he sobs, punch drunk from being stimulated at both ends. “Don’t—don’t stop, fuck, Jinyoung, gonna come, please–“
When Jackson finally comes, he curls in on himself, teeth sinking into his forearm as he muffles a scream against his own skin. Jinyoung feels his hole clamp down almost painfully on his fingers, but keeps them moving in and out, fucking him through his orgasm.
Jackson eventually gets overly sensitive, and his whole body jerks. He lets out a pitiful whimper and Jinyoung releases his softening cock, mindful of the come dripping down his wrist.
“Gonna pull out now, okay?” he warns softly. He feels Jackson tighten around his fingers one last time, as if he’ll miss the feeling of being full.
“‘Kay,” Jackson mutters with his eyes closed, cheek still pressed against his forearm like he’s too exhausted to even lift his head. When Jinyoung looks closely, he sees that the corners of Jackson’s eyes are wet, but he’s not worried. He’s no longer a stranger to sex-related tears when it comes to Jackson. It had alarmed him at first, but he knows now that it’s a sign of Jackson having been well fucked.
Jinyoung withdraws his fingers as gently as possible, eyes glued to the way Jackson’s rim stays open for a few seconds, spasming around nothing as it tries to close up again. Jinyoung groans, all at once reminded again of his own arousal, but he remains diligently undeterred from his task.
Reaching over to the bedside table, he grabs the damp towel he prepared, dabbing it lightly around Jackson’s entrance before he makes Jackson turn over so he can wipe his cock down as well. Jackson tries to twist away, whining when the fabric comes in contact with his sensitive cock, but Jinyoung just shushes him and showers him with praise. “Did so good for me, Sseunie.”
“I’m not a puppy!” Jackson makes a face, lazily batting away Jinyoung’s attempts at wiping him down.
“Are you not?” Jinyoung snickers. “You’re not my good boy?”
Jackson stills. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
Jinyoung coughs, thinking of all the things being a good boy might entail to Jackson and his dick twitches in his pyjama pants.
As if aware, Jackson’s eyes flit to his crotch where Jinyoung is still impossibly hard and he makes an unhappy noise. “You didn’t even get to come,” he notices forlornly. He starts to reach over with heavy limbs, but Jinyoung catches his wrist gently to stop him.
“I don’t need to, Sseun-ah. Let’s just go to sleep,” Jinyoung suggests.
Jackson looks down to their hands, fixing his gaze there. “Do you not want–?” He lets the question hang, sounding small and unsure.
Jinyoung’s heart twists at the thought of Jackson questioning his desire for him. “Of course I want, baby. I always want you.” He intertwines his fingers with Jackson’s and squeezes. “But just because I didn’t come doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. I love taking care of you, not just for you, but for me as well.”
Jackson frowns, dissatisfied.
“But you said—“
“I know I said later,” Jinyoung cuts his whine off, not unkindly. “What is it again you love to tell new people when we play drinking games with them?”
In true Jackson fashion, his expression brightens immediately at any opportunity to tease Jinyoung. “That Jinyoungie’s a lightweight,” he answers cheekily without missing a beat, despite the seemingly abrupt change of subject.
Jinyoung rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Besides that?”
“Jinyoung never plays by the rules because he’s a cheater,” he intones, brows furrowing again.
“Exactly, sweetheart,” Jinyoung laughs. Under usual circumstances he’d be offended, but he can’t deny that his over-competitiveness leads to him playing dirty most of the time in any given situation where he can win. “Plus,” he adds, smirking, “I never specified how much later.”
“You can still fuck me,” Jackson tries to tempt him again.
Jinyoung lays on his side and pulls Jackson in.
“You’re drained,” he points out, kissing Jackson’s shoulder. “And I’d rather just hold you, Sseun-ah. Is that okay?”
“Fine,” Jackson sighs, already hooking his leg around Jinyoung’s.
“Tomorrow,” Jinyoung promises. “Tomorrow we’ll do it however you like. I’ll eat you out, blow you, let you fuck me—“
Jackson’s eyes widen. “You need to stop talking before I get worked up again.”
“I’m just saying,” Jinyoung shrugs, nonchalant.
Eventually, Jinyoung coaxes Jackson into drinking half the bottle of water he had set aside earlier and they settle down, Jackson’s breathing slowed to the point that Jinyoung would think him asleep if not for the fingers tracing patterns along his ribcage.
He stares at the top of Jackson’s head in wonder, realising he’s never felt like this about sex before; his own sexual gratification so secondary to his partner’s that it’s almost irrelevant. Then again, he’s willing to admit, as enthralling as the sex with Jackson is and always has been, it was never truly about that.
“I’m sorry,” Jackson mumbles, breaking the silence. His face is smushed against Jinyoung’s neck, breath so warm Jinyoung feels it spreading down his collarbones and chest.
“For what?” Jinyoung asks incredulously. He pulls back just enough to brush Jackson’s floppy hair away so he can look him in the eyes.
Jackson looks up at him sullenly for a second before jamming his face back in the juncture between Jinyoung’s neck and shoulder. Sensing that Jackson might need a moment, Jinyoung rubs his back comfortingly with one hand and patiently says nothing.
Soon enough, Jackson lets out a warm gust of breath against Jinyoung’s skin. “I’m a shitty boyfriend.”
Jinyoung frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Jackson starts listing: “I’m talking about never being here when we don’t have group activities, barging into your apartment and demanding your time when I don’t give you mine, needing you to take care of me—“
“First of all,” Jinyoung counters, “you didn’t barge in here. You rang the doorbell like a civilised human being and I let you in. You think I let just anyone into my apartment?” he asks. “You know I don’t normally like people in my space.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t deserve—“
Jinyoung covers his mouth with his palm, unwilling to hear any more.
He knows better than most how Jackson’s insecurities speak loudest when he’s worn down to the bone with exhaustion, how easily he beats himself up over the things he deems imperfect. So even though one of Jinyoung’s favourite qualities about Jackson is his ambition, it’s also one of his least favourite when Jackson can’t seem to switch it off. Jinyoung thinks about how to get across that although a relationship takes effort, it doesn’t mean that Jackson needs to be ambitious about it the way he is about his work.
“This isn’t something you have to earn, Jackson. I’m not something you have to earn,” he settles for. He holds Jackson’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, so he can’t look away as he’s wont to do during difficult conversations. “You know that, don’t you?” he asks softly, willing Jackson to understand.
Jackson nods once, stiffly. “I know you’re not like, a trophy or something. I just… I wouldn’t blame you if you, if you wanted—“ Jackson stutters and doesn’t finish, and Jinyoung wonders if it’s because the words are too painful for him to say or because they’d be too painful for Jinyoung to hear. Perhaps both.
“I don’t want anything other than this, with you,” Jinyoung says vehemently, heart hammering. They’d been joking before about Jinyoung’s attention straying elsewhere, but he sees now that perhaps there’d been some truth behind Jackson’s earlier apprehension after all, though perhaps not about Ye Eun specifically.
“But you’re not the one who’s always leaving. I’m not making it easy or fair on you,” Jackson insists. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m picking my career over you just because it’s going well right now.”
Jinyoung hadn’t thought that, but now that it’s come up he knows that if it ever came down to it, he wouldn’t hold it against Jackson. He wouldn’t ever expect Jackson to compromise his career for him and he certainly wouldn’t want Jackson to have to make a choice between the two.
Maybe that’s what love is, Jinyoung thinks, realisation hitting him. Knowing when to let go for the one you love.
His chest constricts to even fathom it, but that’s neither here nor there. They’ll cross that bridge when they get to it, he decides.
“Yah, Sseunie,” Jinyoung chides, hoping to lighten the mood and not allowing his thoughts to dwindle too far from the present. “Don’t blame yourself for being successful—I love that you’re driven. And I don’t want easy. Nothing worth having ever is.”
“Okay,” Jackson relents, biting his lip. “Promise you’ll tell me if you’re ever not happy?”
“Only if you do the same,” Jinyoung says, taking Jackson’s pinky in his like they are kids on a playground.
“Okay,” Jackson says again, nodding. He sounds serious, but Jinyoung can see that his eyes are brighter. Jinyoung brings Jackson’s hand to his face, kissing the knuckles one by one, their pinkies still intertwined.
They lie like that in comfortable silence, tangled up in each other. Jinyoung watches as Jackson’s eyes drift shut and his face goes slack, knowing that in about ten minutes or so he’ll start snoring softly. It’s a sight Jinyoung has fallen asleep to countless times, but he only moves to switch off his bedside lamp when he’s certain it’ll be Jackson’s face he’ll be seeing again in his dreams.
——————
Jinyoungie, wake up. Come on, it’s time to get up. Jinyoung, Jinyoung…
Jinyoung jerks awake to Jackson’s voice, nerves on overload and skin tingling all over. “What,” he croaks, somehow winded even though he was just asleep.
He hears a giggle and glances to his left where Jackson is lying on his front, head propped up on his elbow, face so close to Jinyoung’s he can count his individual lashes.
Before Jinyoung can say anything more, a low, keening noise makes its way out of his throat involuntarily and he becomes suddenly aware of the hand squeezing and gliding up and down his cock.
“What the fuck,” he groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He covers his face with his hands, peeking at Jackson through his spread fingers.
“Good morning,” Jackson says cheerily, well rested but voice still laced with traces of sleep. He gently pries Jinyoung’s hands away from his face with the fingers not currently busy sending Jinyoung’s body confused overdrive. Jinyoung blinks at him.
“What,” he says again. His brain is still struggling to connect to the rest of him.
“I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last five minutes,” Jackson explains, still stroking Jinyoung’s erection languidly. “And then I gave up and figured you’d wake up if I made it worth your while.”
Jinyoung arches his back and sighs, relaxing now that his confusion has cleared and his brain recognises that he’s in a safe space.
“I guess I did say we could do whatever you wanted in bed today,” he remembers, kicking off the pants Jackson had only bothered to pull down to his knees. “Even if I didn’t necessarily mean from our next waking moment.”
“Yup,” Jackson says with a shit-eating grin. “No excuses this time, Jinyoung-ssi, I’ve got unfinished business with you.”
“Well, get to it then, Jackson-ssi.” Jinyoung allows himself to sink into the feeling of Jackson, Jackson, Jackson as he leans over to breathe hot air over the glistening head of Jinyoung’s cock. “Because I’ve also got things I want to do, starting with eating your ass.”
Jackson makes a strangled noise at that, and makes himself busy.
Later, when they’re lying in a state somewhere between a post-orgasmic haze and being braindead, something crosses Jinyoung’s mind. He disentangles himself from Jackson’s embrace and walks over to his writing desk, pulling the top drawer open. Sitting in there is a small envelope, heavier than it looks, that he had prepared not long after moving in. It’s marked with a simple “Sseun.” on the bottom right corner.
“What are you doing?” Jackson sits up and asks curiously from the bed.
In lieu of answering, Jinyoung merely hands the envelope over, feeling a little like his heart is lodged in his throat. He stands at the edge of the mattress and watches tensely as Jackson a runs a reverent finger over Jinyoung’s scratchy penmanship. “For me?” he asks quietly.
Jinyoung nods, licking his lips out of nervousness.
Jackson carefully opens the envelope, shaking its contents out onto his palm. A look of astonishment passes over his features when he sees that it’s a set of keys, and he looks to Jinyoung with wide eyes.
Jinyoung digs his nails into his palms, trying to contain the jittery feeling as he tries to discern Jackson’s reaction. He knows rationally that Jackson wouldn’t respond to his gesture negatively, but it’s a step forward in their relationship they have yet to discuss. It’s also the first time Jinyoung is giving anyone a set of keys to his place (other than Jaebeom, for emergencies, which he’s elected to use like a library card, judging by the way Jinyoung’s books keep suspiciously disappearing for periods of time and then reappearing in all the wrong places) because it’s the first time in his life he has had a place to himself, and it feels like he’s handing over access to more than just his apartment.
Jinyoung clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to give them to you for a while.” He pauses, recalling the way Jackson had tried to apologise for showing up unannounced and how he’d wanted to rectify it. “I don’t want you to ever feel unwelcome, Sseun-ah, because I want you here. Always.”
He leaves it at that, not knowing how else to express the way that Jackson can make him smile even in the most dire of situations because just being around him feels like Jinyoung’s lying on a sunny patch of grass on a cool spring day. It’s rare times like these that he feels like words fail him.
Jackson doesn’t say anything for a while and Jinyoung thinks that perhaps he’s miscalculated. Is it too soon? Too late? How do you know when the right time is to give your partner a key to your apartment when they’re someone you had already previously lived with for years and saw most days at work before even getting together?
“You don’t have to use them,” he says quickly, tripping over his own words, “but I just wanted you to have a set. The big one is for the main building door, and the smaller one—“
“Jinyoung,” Jackson interrupts him, voice shaking.
Jinyoung swallows hard, hyperaware of his rambling. To his alarm, Jackson’s big eyes begin to look a little glassy and before he can help himself he reaches out, his instinct to comfort Jackson winning over all else.
Jackson scoots forward so he can press his face into Jinyoung’s bare abdomen, wrapping his arms tightly around Jinyoung’s waist.
“I don’t want you to feel burdened by this,” Jinyoung murmurs as he cradles the back of Jackson’s head and massages the base of his skull.
“I don’t,” Jackson replies, shaking his head fervently. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Jinyoung tugs at the soft hairs on the nape of Jackson’s neck, getting him to look up.
“But it’s good?” he checks, wary.
“It’s amazing. I’m so happy, Jinyoungie.” Jackson beams up at Jinyoung and all at once his worries dissipate.
“Good,” he says, running his thumb along Jackson’s brow bone and down the slope of his nose, trying to commit to memory this very look on Jackson’s face. “That’s all I wanted.”
“Thank you,” Jackson whispers. He plants butterfly kisses across the pane of Jinyoung’s stomach, nuzzling at the warm skin from time to time, in a way that’s more worshipful than seductive, far more intimate than sex has ever been for Jinyoung, and suddenly he knows.
With his heart full, he knows that at this moment in time he may not be certain of a lot of things—not his future, not his career, and definitely not his purpose in life—but he’s okay with being afloat, because he has this, and he’s content.