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Jaemin feels the cold air hit his bare skin and takes a shaky breath. Inside it had been burning, too many people packed into such a small space. Everyone was sweaty from dancing and drinking. The night air is welcomed even as he feels sweat prick his skin, his body trying to regulate his temperature.
There’s a few people outside who seem to have had the same idea, escaping from the heat inside without jackets and now shivering. A few are gathered together, passing around a joint, acting like the small flame is a bonfire. Jaemin wanders towards the edge of the yard, its backed up to woods, unfenced, and it slopes down gently. He knows there’s a creek nearby, simply because he saw it on his navigation app on his way here, and he figures it’s probably at the end of the slope. He wonders how difficult it would be to get back up to the party if he wandered down.
He glances back at the house, and then at his phone to make sure he hadn’t somehow missed a call or text in the few minutes he’d been gone. Not that Donghyuck was paying him any attention, too busy and caught up in bothering Renjun as soon as they had walked through the door. There was only so much third wheeling Jaemin was willing to subject himself to and even that limit had drastically decreased in the last year.
There’s no messages or missed calls, and so with the flashlight on his phone, he wanders a bit down the slope. He can almost hear the water, or maybe he’s imaging things, when a voice cuts through the night. “There’s a fence down there.”
Jaemin stumbles at the sudden intrusion, head snapping towards the voice, his phone flashlight cutting through the night.
“Jesus, you’re gonna blind me.” Chenle. An arm up, covering his face from the flashlight, palm extended. He’s holding a cigarette in the other hand, dangling by his side. Jaemin lets his hand drop, and then, because it’s easier to talk to Chenle in the dark, turns off the flashlight.
He watches as the cigarette moves in the night, as his eyes adjust. Chenle takes a drag and then lets it out. He’s hard to make out in the nighttime, but he’s familiar and his features come into focus easily.
He must have left the party with enough purpose, because he’s wrapped up in a black jacket that falls to his mid-thigh and looks like it could fit three of him. He looks a bit worse for wear, though, his dyed hair falling over his forehead, a bit frizzy. His cheekbones look prominent, hollowed out, and his under eyes look like he hasn’t slept more than five hours in days, rimmed red.
Jaemin wanders over, he tries to be casual as he says, “Thought it was unfenced.”
“Definitely a fence,” Chenle pays him no mind. He’s not necessarily dismissive, but he also doesn’t bother looking at Jaemin. He squats down, leaning slightly against a tree as he continues to smoke his cigarette. He’s not even looking at his phone, just staring out into space. It’s a bit hard to reconcile this Chenle with the Chenle he thought he knew.
“Jeno’s not here,” Jaemin says, just to see if Chenle’s face will twist.
It does.
He lets out a shaky breath and taps his cigarette against a red plastic cup, the ash falling in. “Yeah, I know.” Jeno had gone home early for winter break, all his finals had been papers so there was no point to return after Thanksgiving unless he wanted to. He had come back for a week, turned everything in, and then promptly joined his family on vacation.
Before that though, he’d ended his year-long situationship with Chenle. He’d told Jaemin without much fanfare–or really any fanfare or explanation. Jaemin still didn’t really understand what happened, or whether it was mutual, or whether it was Chenle’s prompting. It hadn’t seemed to be Chenle though, because Jeno had let Jaemin know with so much nonchalance it had felt like a cruel prank. And now, having Chenle in front of him, it’s clear it wasn’t mutual.
“You look like shit.” Jaemin says, because Chenle does and this is what they do.
Chenle shrinks down as if he were slapped, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You got the guy, Jaemin, you don’t have to pour salt in the wound.”
Jaemin doesn’t know what to say to that. He knows he was never subtle, his intentions (read: feelings) regarding Jeno were always crystal clear to everyone except Jeno. (Although sometimes, when Jaemin feels particularly mean-spirited, he thinks maybe Jeno does know and is just keeping him on the back burner. He prefers not to think that Jeno could be purposefully cruel, it’s kinder to pretend Jeno doesn’t know.) It feels a bit like a punch for Chenle to so openly comment on his feelings though. Jeno was Jaemin’s friend first, will continue to be Jaemin’s friend even now that Chenle is out of the picture. Or out of the picture somewhat, because their friendships are grossly tangled. But for much longer than all of this, he knows in a year they’ll graduate and he expects their friend group will slowly lose touch, but he doesn’t think that will be him and Jeno. They’ve been friends for too long, know each other too well. They’re stuck with each other.
But Chenle is also wrong about Jaemin and Jeno. Jaemin didn’t get the guy. Jeno hasn’t crawled into his bed no matter how much Jaemin closed his eyes and wished he would.
Chenle’s knuckles are pink, and Jaemin shivers a bit in the cold air, he squats down, only because he thinks there might be less of a breeze closer to the ground. If he and Chenle were better friends, or friends at all, he might ask to crawl into his jacket with him.
Instead he says, “You shouldn’t smoke, it’s bad for you.”
It’s a miracle that Chenle manages to make his eyeroll visible in the darkness. “Wow, thanks.” He takes a long drag and then releases it from the side of his mouth, towards Jaemin. Jaemin doesn’t say anything even though he can feel the smoke infiltrating his pores. It feels like a game though, and Jaemin doesn’t want to give in. Not yet.
They’re silent for a moment, and then Chenle drops the half-smoked cigarette into the red solo cup. It’s close enough that Jaemin glances at it, sees that two other cigarette butts are already floating in the water. Chenle must have been outside for a while.
“You’re kind of a dick, you know.”
“What?”
“You are a dick.” Chenle enunciates each word slowly, Jaemin watches the way his lips move. He may look like he hadn't slept but he was pretty.
Not that Jeno was shallow but it made sense why he had kept Chenle around for so long. There was a certain easiness and confidence to Chenle that was attractive. He talked too much, and his leg was constantly bouncing, but he was charming. Open. Straightforward. They had made sense together, had just sort of fit.
And now Chenle was calling Jaemin a dick. “I’m not,” he defends himself. “You are.”
Chenle frowns, “You.”
“No you.” It’s childish and petty, Jaemin feels his face turn pink. Chenle scoffs.
“You never liked me when I was with Jeno.” It’s not an accusation, it’s an observation.
“That’s not true,” he lies.
Chenle meets his eyes through the dark, as if trying to gauge whether Jaemin is lying just to Chenle or also to himself. Jaemin isn’t sure what he finds. Chenle breaks eye contact and stands up, dusting off his pants as he says, “Whatever, you got what you wanted.”
Jaemin follows him, walking back up the delicate slope into the open backyard. Someone had actually started up the fire pit and more people were out.
“You’re wrong,” Jaemin mumbles. Chenle is wrong. Jaemin didn’t get anything from Jeno and Chenle no longer being together. He would never get anything with Jeno. He was too scared to push or prod, too scared that Jeno would pull away or worse; that he would reciprocate and then pull away. Jaemin feels bad about having started this with Chenle, knows that if the roles were reversed he would have much less patience.
“I’m wrong about you being in love with Jeno?” Chenle spins on his heel to look at Jaemin; his hands tighten around the red plastic cup, crunching. The porch light and fire pit create shadows across his face, but he looks angry. Angrier than Jaemin has ever seen him. “I’m wrong about your possessiveness over him? How you hate him with anyone else and only want him for yourself but don’t just tell him? I’m wrong about you hating me? As if you’ve ever spoken more than three words to me at one time. I’m wrong about that? Does any of that ring a bell?” Chenle looks more gaunt in the half light. He looks like the life has been sucked out of him.
“You’re wrong,” Jaemin manages to croak, his throat dry and his mouth suddenly sour. He feels a bit nauseous. “I don’t hate you.”
“Whatever man,” Chenle says, spinning back around and leaving Jaemin in the middle of the yard. With half frozen fingers he pulls out his phone, they’re a bit numb from the cold as he types, looking for a life line.
To Jeno
Miss you
Donghyuck and Renjun are in one of their moods, where they pretend they’re barely friends and are not hooking up and yet refuse to separate.
Jaemin had wandered back in when the cold had gotten unbearable. He’d been looking for Donghyuck to say he was going to leave, but him and Renjun had sunk their claws into him. Donghyuck chanting beer pong, beer pong, beer pong; and Renjun groaning that he was being annoying even as he helped drag Jaemin along.
“You need a partner,” Donghyuck says, looking around the crowded kitchen, his fingers were digging into Jaemin’s arm. A game of beer pong had been set on the kitchen table, and a group of people were playing. The game was almost over, at a climax, if their screams were anything to go off of.
“Markie,” Donghyuck spots Mark in the corner of the kitchen, he was blocking someone in a bit, and Jaemin was about to hiss at Donghyuck that Mark was otherwise occupied.
But Donghyuck’s voice carries and Mark looks back, stepping away from the corner. Chenle is backed up against the counter. In the bright kitchen light he looks even worse, still handsome but like he was recovering from a bad cold. Red rimmed eyes, frizzy hair, a patch of stubble by his upper lip, shockingly pale. His eyes are glassier, and his lips look red. Like someone has been chewing on them. He was no longer wearing his big coat and the neck of his t-shirt was stretched out, exposing a collar bone.
Jaemin looks away, hopes Mark will decline the offer, and go back to doing whatever he was doing with Chenle.
Jaemin takes out his phone as Donghyuck says, “Come play—beer pong.” He’s waving towards the table with the hand that’s still holding on to Jaemin using him like a puppet.
There’s still no response from Jeno.
He misses when Mark agrees, dragging Chenle along. They’re waiting for the other game to be over and he keeps thinking he’ll say something and pull away but every time he opens his mouth, he doesn’t. Instead he keeps glancing at Mark and Chenle. Mark is animated talking to one of the other people watching the beer pong game and giving running commentary. He has an arm wrapped around Chenle’s waist, fingers unnecessarily under Chenle’s shirt. Chenle is holding on to him as well, his head resting at a weird angle to lay on Mark’s shoulder.
Jaemin gets a feeling like he wants to take a photo, throw it back in Chenle’s face later. Prove to himself that Chenle can’t be broken up over Jeno, not when he’s all over Mark.
Jaemin tears his gaze away, swallows thickly around the misplaced jealousy in his throat.
“Jaemin and I, Mark and Chenle.” Donghyuck points to the teams once the table clears, setting up the cups. He fills some with water rather than beer.
“I don’t want to play,” Chenle mumbles, disentangling himself from Mark. Either Donghyuck doesn’t hear or doesn’t care because it ends up being the teams he wanted. Renjun standing to the side berating each of Donghyuck’s throws. He is laughably bad. But so is Mark so it evens out.
It’s uncomfortable to see Chenle across the table for every throw. He looks so different from the Chenle Jaemin remembers from just a few weeks go. Subdued somehow.
He wonders if that’s how he would be if Jeno one day decided he was done and dumped him. He still doesn’t know what happened there, doesn’t understand why after a year or basically being together (although Jeno would disagree they were together), he would end things. One day they were in Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment, Chenle cooking and laughing about something Jeno said and the next day Jeno had smiled softly to Jaemin and said oh that’s over and had offered nothing more.
Renjun steps in to play and Jaemin gives up his spot easily. He’s again about to say he’s gonna head home when Mark reaches for Jaemin. “Please trade me.” And before he knows it he’s standing side by side with Chenle.
“Your serve,” Chenle hands him the small ball before taking a step back. Before Jaemin can go though Donghyuck looks between them, scrunching his eyebrows.
The thing is everyone knows. Jeno and Chenle had never been exclusive per se (although Jaemin would disagree with that, Jeno hadn’t so much as looked at someone other than Chenle for the year they were hooking up), but everyone knew. They had never kept it a secret. At every party there was Chenle and Jeno, Jeno and Chenle. And just like that, they hadn’t made it a secret that they were no longer hooking up. Suddenly awkward and stilted with each other, acknowledging each other only through their friends. No one had really taken any loyalties, but Chenle and Jaemin had never been close
“You two are too good.”
“I’m good too.” Renjun says.
“Switch, switch.”
Jaemin takes a step back, giving the ball back to Chenle. “I think I’m just gonna go home.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “No we just need to even out the teams. Like maybe only shoot with your eyes closed?”
Chenle rolls his eyes, shoots the ball and sinks it. Donghyuck fishes it out but doesn’t drink it. Chenle points to it, “Drink.”
Donghyuck hands the cup to Renjun who drinks it. Donghyuck shoots and sinks it into one of the water cups, Chenle takes the drink.
They win. Which prompts Donghyuck to insist that they switch again. Jaemin attempts to say he’s going home but Donghyuck throws an arm around his shoulders and declares him his partner. They replace all the water cups with lukewarm beer.
It’s better to switch. Chenle had been treating him like he had a bad cold and was trying to sneeze directly into his mouth, giving Jaemin a wide-berth and handing him the ball delicately so that their hands wouldn’t touch. It had made Jaemin a bit embarrassed, more so when he noticed that Chenle was embarrassed, his ears bright red every time he handed the ball to Jaemin, or had to talk to him.
Mark is still watching, he drinks each one of Donghyuck drinks (after Donghyuck had insisted it was the only way to make the game fair, although he was still nursing some mixed drink so Jaemin had a feeling he just didn’t want to drink cheap beer) and checks everyone finishes their cups. So that by the time the game is halfway over (Chenle, Renjun leading), Jaemin feels the effects of the alcohol. His mouth feels disgusting, coated with the filmy residue of the beer.
Chenle and Renjun are much better than Jaemin and Donghyuck as a team, but also seem to get drunk at a quicker rate–at least Renjun, so that by the time there’s only a few cups on each side, he’s basically hanging off of Chenle. Mark starts taking his drinks as well, although he looks worse for wear, face and neck splotchy and red.
Jaemin and Donghyuck end up winning–marginally.
“You cheated,” Renjun points at Mark and Donghyuck. “You’re supposed to drink, the point is you drink.” No one points out that Mark had also started taking his drinks.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Donghyuck grabs Renjun’s wrist, pulling him closer as another group starts setting up another game.
Their group separates, Chenle grabs a too-drunk Mark and drags him away without so much as a wave. Jaemin thinks about the way Mark had boxed Chenle in against the counter, and wonders. If he was a worse person, both to himself and Jeno, he might text Jeno just to tell him. It’s mostly self-preservation though. He wonders if it’s a ploy of some sort to get Jeno back, or if Chenle is willing to move on so quickly with another friend.
He does almost texts Jisung just to ask if he knows anything. But he also thinks he might be being unfair. Jeno called it quits, they were never anything, Chenle could do whatever he wants.
Plus, Mark and Chenle weren’t actually doing anything. He’s reading into it maybe because he hopes it’s true, that a Chenle who is preoccupied with Mark would mean that there’s a Jeno who is open. But then he goes back to the beginning of it all, the fact that even when Jeno was open (and he is open, always technically has been) Jaemin was not willing to risk their friendship. Still isn’t.
It’s a pointless exercise. To imagine scenarios where he and Jeno might be together.
Donghyuck’s persuasion should be studied because Jaemin ends up doing another two shots with a group of people he doesn’t know, but that Donghyuck apparently knows from one of his courses. It’s only once Donghyuck loses track of his alcohol, gets too wrapped up in Renjun, when the night has started turning into early morning, that Jaemin is able to escape. He grabs his coat and heads out.
The living room is packed, too many bodies pressed against each other that Jaemin finds it easier to navigate from the kitchen to the backyard, figuring he’d be able to cross back to the front and leave.
He’s maybe had more to drink than he should, maybe hadn’t drank enough water, or eaten enough, because when he sees a familiar figure sitting on one of the seats by the now mostly empty firepit he heads over.
Chenle is smoking another cigarette, throwing the embers into the firepit. There’s one of the cheap beers open by his feet, and he’s scrolling on his phone. Jaemin sits next to him. It’s a small seat, their thighs pressed together to fit.
Chenle looks up at him but doesn’t say anything, rearranging himself so that their thighs aren’t pressing together. Jaemin misses the warmth.
Jaemin looks across the firepit, and across the yard, trying to see if he spots Mark. “No Mark?” He breaks the silence just as Chenle takes another drag. The people closest to them are a couple who had moved some seats further away from the firepit, and looked busy trying to eat each other.
Chenle raises his eyebrows, “Inside.” His tone is clipped, disinterested.
It’s hard to reconcile this Chenle, who is so clearly trying to be mean, trying to be stand-offish with the Chenle he knew through Jeno. He’s not sure he had ever seen Chenle so purposefully subdued. It had been a point of contention at the start of his and Jeno’s relationship. Chenle was so loud, without care that he was in a shared apartment, that Jaemin was in the next room, that the walls were thin.
It had mostly been fine, except for the times Jaemin had woken up in the middle of the night to Chenle gasping out between moans how good Jeno was and how big he was and how tight he was. He was so noisy that sometimes Jaemin wondered if it was all fake. If it wasn’t that he would sometimes run into Chenle in the morning, still somehow looking fucked out, Jaemin wouldn’t have believed it.
In Jaemin’s most shameful moments, it had been the object of his fantasies. Picturing Jeno in the next room having sex (admittedly, with Chenle, and admittedly, the noises were almost always just Chenle). Still. Sometimes when he came it was with the memory of Chenle’s gasps in the forefront of his mind, with the thought of Chenle spread out under Jeno.
“Why are you acting like that?” Jaemin asks.
Chenle takes another drag of his cigarette, but doesn’t bother answering. He finishes it until it’s nothing more than a filter and then throws it into the firepit. Jaemin’s not sure the homeowners would appreciate that.
“You’re cute when you pretend to be mad.”
Chenle doesn’t answer. So to be an ass, wanting to provoke him, Jaemin reaches over pinches one of Chenle’s cheeks hard.
Chenle bats his arm away.
“Come on, play with me,” Jaemin says, ruffling Chenle’s hair, and squeezing his cheek again.
Chenle moves away, twitching and letting out a shocked laugh when Jaemin’s fingers trail down to his neck. His ears are bright red and Jaemin squeezes one, it’s hot to the touch. Chenle flushes, his neck pink.
“You’re so cute,” Jaemin says again, because he is, there’s a smile playing in the corner of Chenle’s mouth, probably due to the tickling and less because he’s actually happy, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s something. “Pretending to be cold doesn’t suit you.”
Chenle keeps twitching, knocking over the can of beer as he tries to move away. He doesn’t get up to leave though, so Jaemin continues.
He trails his fingers down Chenle’s neck again and over his collarbone. He has half a thought to push his jacket off, trace his fingers down his chest and torso, count each rib and see if he flushes pink all over. “You’re pretty.” He sounds a bit breathless, as his movements still, fingers less purposeful as they reach for Chenle.
Chenle stills, his mouth falling open slightly. Jaemin reaches for his neck again and Chenle bats him away. “Fuck you.” Then for good measure, he presses his tiny body against Jaemin, attempting to push him off the seat. It’s pointless though.
But it means that Chenle’s warm body is pressed against his side, and Jaemin reaches over, tries to still him with his hands before Chenle wiggles out of his grip. Chenle presses harder, his feet digging into the ground as he tries to push against Jaemin. He ends up halfway sprawled on Jaemin though, and Jaemin takes the opportunity to snake his hand under his open jacket, grabbing his waist to still his movements.
Chenle gasps at Jaemin’s touch and falls forward, his dick pressing against Jaemin’s thigh. He’s half hard, and gaping at Jaemin like it’s all his fault he’s half hard and pressed against Jaemin. Maybe it is.
Jaemin is glad he has the excuse of alcohol when he digs his fingers into Chenle’s waist and pulls him closer, so that Chenle is practically straddling him, holding on to Jaemin’s arms with an iron grip.
“You’re so pretty,” Jaemin says, palming Chenle over his jeans.
Chenle groans, fully sitting on Jaemin’s thigh. Jaemin is aware that there’s still people around, that any of their friends could come out and see them. He wants Chenle though, which is why he presses down, thumbing the zipper of Chenle’s jeans, his fingers playing with Chenle’s belt, as he says, “Come to mine.”
Chenle drops his head against Jaemin’s shoulder, moving his hips so his thigh brushes against Jaemin’s own half-hard dick. Jaemin lets him, lets Chenle use his thigh, until he’s gasping and groaning into Jaemin’s neck.
“I want to fuck you,” Jaemin murmurs, pulling Chenle’s face away from his neck. Chenle looks familiar, his expression fucked out, there’s a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth and Jaemin presses his fingers against Chenle’s lips. Chenle’s mouth falls open, almost reflexively, and Jaemin presses two fingers in, pressing harshly against Chenle’s tongue and pushing them in until tears spring into Chenle’s eyes. Chenle moans around them.
When he takes them out, Chenle manages to nod, a soft yeah escaping his lips. He tries to pull away, his legs a bit shaky as he stands up. He’s clearly hard in his jeans, and he zips up his giant puffer jacket, covering most of his thighs. He reaches down as if to grab his beer, only to realize it’s spilled over. He looks at Jaemin, and says, “To mine though.”
Chenle lives alone.
He’s had Jaemin’s dick in his mouth for the last five minutes, Jaemin pressed against the front door, his hand wrapped in Chenle’s hair.
Chenle wasn’t faking it when he was with Jeno. Even sucking dick he’s loud, moaning around Jaemin’s length and every so often pulling off to say something dirty. It would be cringey, if it wasn’t actually hot. Chenle’s mouth filled with spit and pre-cum, eyes watery, as he looks up at Jaemin, stroking him with one hand, one hand palming himself, his hair in Jaemin’s hand, saying, “Bet you would feel so good inside of me, splitting me open.”
Jaemin feels like he might go crazy, fucks into Chenle’s mouth to shut him up. Except Chenle’s eyes roll back, and pre-cum and spit bubbles around his dick and Jaemin has to pull out before he actually comes.
“Need to,” Jaemin takes a shaky breath, pulling Chenle up. Chenle kisses him. Chenle pushes his tongue in, and Jaemin tastes himself. It should be a bit gross, and it is if Jaemin thinks about it, but it’s also incredibly hot. “Need to fuck you.” Jaemin murmurs, pulling away. Chenle swallows and attaches his lips to Jaemin’s neck. Jaemin is aware his dick is out, pants around his ankles, and Chenle is still fully clothed, wearing his giant jacket.
“Take this off,” Jaemin pushes Chenle’s jacket off, runs his hands up Chenle’s t-shirt and then helps him pull it off.
His torso is all lean and sinewy muscles, but solid. Jaemin doen’t hesitate, undoing Chenle’s belt as Chenle tries to kiss him again.
“Please, off,” Jaemin murmurs.
Chenle doesn’t respond, instead pulling him further into the apartment. Jaemin steps out of his jeans and pulls up his underwear before he follows.
Chenle’s room is tidier than Jaemin had pictured. His bed is haphazardly made, and Chenle pushes Jaemin into it. Jaemin wonders how many times Jeno and Chenle had fucked in Chenle’s room, on the same sheets. Wonders if it feels like deja vu to Chenle.
A condom and a mostly used bottle of lube land next to him before he can even blink and then Chenle is on top of him. There’s a sort of frenzy to his movements, Chenle’s hand is inside Jaemin’s boxers, jerking him off with quick movements, as he kisses him.
Jaemin is sure he’s going to come if he doesn’t take control of the situation. There’s no build-up to Chenle’s movements, only purpose. He takes hold of Chenle’s wrist, stilling his frenetic movements, and pulling off, rolling them over. He cages Chenle in with his thighs, and starts working on Chenle’s belt again. “Wanna fuck you.”
“Then do,” Chenle says. His tone is challenging and his eyes sparkle, like he doesn’t think Jaemin can. He wonders if Chenle was like this Jeno.
Jaemin pulls Chenle’s jeans off, and Chenle kicks off his boxers, instantly taking his dick in his hand.
Sucking dick isn’t Jaemin’s favorite, but the sight of Chenle’s hand wrapped around himself makes his mouth water. He moves down the bed and takes Chenle down, trying not to choke. Chenle is just as intentional in getting sucked off, his hand in Jaemin’s hair feels like it might rip out his hair, and Jaemin groans from the pain. It only spurs Chenle on, his hips twitching up. Jaemin chokes and pulls off.
Chenle looks decidedly disappointed as he looks down, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is that it?”
Jaemin doesn’t tell him to fuck off, but he wants to. Instead he spreads Chenle’s legs open and presses a single finger against his rim. Chenle jerks away before settling down, grabbing the lube and coating his own fingers before handing it to Jaemin.
He’s a bit insatiable as he presses a finger into himself without much care. Jaemin thinks he might have a heart attack. Doesn’t know how Jeno survived a year of this, it’s been less than thirty minutes and Jaemin feels like he might be fucked for life.
“You’re a fucking dream.” Jaemin pushes a single finger in alongside Chenle’s. Chenle arches, pressing down to take more of Jaemin’s finger. Greedy.
“More, more, more,” Chenle groans, spreading his legs further apart. He takes out his own finger and grabs Jaemin’s wrist, pressing it further.
Jaemin listens, presses another lube coated finger into Chenle, Chenle’s grip tightens around his wrist before he relaxes, his hand falling away. Jaemin tries to regulate his breathing, focuses on Chenle’s face.
“So good,” Chenle moans, his own hand jerking himself off slowly, like he’s finally willing to enjoy the moment.
“Better than Jeno?” Jaemin asks. Maybe he wasn’t as interested in his own self-preservation, or maybe he was too gone to care about what he was saying.
“Fuck,” Chenle groans. “More, more, please.”
Jaemin listens again, pressing another finger in, watching the way Chenle seems to suck him in, like he had been waiting for this.
“Better than Jeno?”
“God, fuck, shut up.”
“Answer,” Jaemin insists, fucking his fingers in and out.
Chenle pushes himself up to his elbows, “Fuck, sure, is that what you want to hear?” He sounds a bit mad, so Jaemin pushes his fingers against his prostate. The change in Chenle is instantaneous, his whole body twitching, thigh hitting Jaemin’s side as he falls back, moaning loudly.
“Be honest.”
“I’m. Do you want me to–” Chenle sounds almost lost, trying to push himself up. “Please just fuck me.”
Jaemin sits up a bit, and reaches for the condom, sliding it on as he says, “Do I want you to what?”
Chenle’s eyes are trained on Jaemin’s dick. “Just fuck me.”
“What?” Jaemin pauses, his hand on Chenle’s thigh.
Chenle seems to consider, and then crawls from under Jaemin, so he’s on his hands and knees, back slightly arched. Jaemin is about to tell him to turn back around, when Chenle speaks.
“Fuck me from behind so I can pretend you’re Jeno.”
It feels a bit like a bucket of ice water had been poured over Jaemin, but he also feels something burn inside of him. His own desire overtakes him as he presses down on Chenle’s lower back, before he lines up and presses in. He’s slow with it.
“Be good and quiet.”
“Jeno always liked it when I was loud,” Chenle bites back, giving out an exaggerated moan when Jaemin presses further in. Jaemin hates how much it works on him, desire licking up his insides.
Chenle pushes back against Jaemin, and Jaemin tries not to come. He grabs on to Chenle’s waist, to make sure he doesn’t move.
“When I fucked Jeno, he liked when I would just take, likes being used.” Chenle says, almost conversationally, as if Jaemin wasn’t inside of him. “You can use me, if you want.”
Jaemin thrusts into him, hoping to shut Chenle up on whatever he’s on about. The thoughts of Chenle and Jeno press in. Chenle under Jeno just like this. Or, Jeno under Chenle, Chenle taking whatever he wanted from Jeno.
He must be easy to read even like this, with Chenle’s back to him, because Chenle presses back and says, “Sometimes I would fuck him, and he cried. Looks so pretty when he cries.”
Jaemin thinks Chenle might be crazy.
Knows he is crazy when Chenle says, “You can call me Jeno, if you want. Pretend I’m him.”
Jaemin feels crazy because he picks up his movements at the thought, pulls on Chenle’s hair until Chenle is mewling, whining. He’s fucking into Chenle without abandon.
“Did he fuck you like this?” Jaemin croaks, he feels so close already. Chenle clenching around him. “You’re so fucking tight, thought you’d be open from how much you fucked Jeno.”
“Fuck you,” Chenle spits out, groaning. “Jeno hardly, he hardly.” Chenle whines when Jaemin hits his spot. “Jeno liked being fucked. I’m telling you, you can pretend–.” Jaemin pulls Chenle’s hair again, forcing his back to arch further to cut him off. Chenle almost screams as Jaemin rearranges his thrusts to hit Chenle’s prostate.
Jaemin lets go of Chenle’s hair in favor of gripping his waist with both hands, and using him like he had suggested. He feels like he’s on the brink of his orgasm. He squeezes his eyes shut as Chenle falls forward, his hands giving out. Chenle practically feels weightless as Jaemin fucks into him, moving like a ragdoll with each of Jaemin’s movements. All he can picture is Jeno just like this; Chenle is too loud though. All those times he’d heard them through his wall, it was always Chenle.
“You’re so fucking noisy.”
Chenle doesn’t respond, instead moaning into the pillow. “Are you gonna be good? Are you gonna come?”
“I’m gonna come, please fuck. Gonna come, please.”
“Does my dick feel good? Jeno couldn’t fuck you like this, right?”
Jaemin gets a sick satisfaction when Chenle sobs, his entire body tensing. “Please, please.”
“Come on, baby.”
Chenle pushes his face against the pillow, coming all over his sheets. Jaemin feels his own orgasm creep up, but he’s not too far gone to hear Chenle panting Jeno’s name against the pillow. It should feel worse, should feel like a knife twisting, when Jeno’s name falls from Chenle’s lips as he comes. Instead it pushes Jaemin over the edge. Fucking into Chenle one last time and stilling his movements as he spills inside the condom.
“Fuck, Jeno, Jeno.” He’s less secretive about saying Jeno’s name. Thinks Chenle would have appreciated it more if it was whispered against his skin, and not out in the open, even if he had started the game, and had said Jaemin could pretend.
Chenle groans as he pushes Jaemin away, before he even comes down, his dick still twitching. It doesn’t matter, Jaemin thinks it might have been the best orgasm of his life.
He doesn’t say what he wants to say, that he really doesn’t understand how Jeno could have turned away from this. That he understands why Jeno had kept Chenle around for so long.
Chenle rolls over. His hair is sticking up all over the place, and his face is splotchy and red.
He’s pretty. Jaemin wishes they had fucked face to face. Would have liked to have seen how he looked when he came.
“You’re pretty.” He’s careful as he takes off the condom.
Chenle rolls his eyes and sits up, groaning, but there’s a small smile as he looks at Jaemin. He pats his chest, a hand trailing down Jaemin’s torso and Jaemin thinks he might be able to go again. He thinks he should feel some sort of shame, or guilt. Instead he just feels content. Like this was always going to be the outcome of his night. He wonders if maybe later, once reality sets in (or maybe when he hears or sees Jeno again) he’ll feel guilty, but for now it just feels fated.
“You work out,” it’s not really a question, more of an observation. Jaemin nods anyway. Chenle squeezes his chest and laughs to himself.
Jaemin is about to suggest another round when Chenle lets his hand drop away and says, “I have a flight in the morning.”
It’s as good as a get the fuck out so Jaemin starts moving. Chenle follows him, standing up and stretching. He really is pretty, Jaemin wonders if it would be fucked up of him to ask to do this again, some other time. “Give me a second,” Chenle says, vaguely motioning towards Jaemin before he walks out of the room. Jaemin takes the opportunity to grab his t-shirt and boxers, sliding them on. Chenle sounds like he’s in the kitchen, and Jaemin looks around the room one last time to make sure he’s not forgetting anything. The used condom is still on the bed, and he grabs it to throw it out.
He knows his jeans and jacket are in the front and he figures his wallet, keys, and phone are in those pockets, or on the ground nearby. He wonders if it’s too late (or maybe just early enough) to call a taxi.
Chenle’s phone is on the ground, and Jaemin bends down to grab it and check the time.
It’s just past four in the morning, and there’s a flurry of unread texts waiting for Chenle.
The top one, less than an hour ago, maybe while he was balls deep in Chenle, moaning Jeno’s name, is from Jeno.
Jaemin opens Chenle’s phone, recalling all the times Chenle would yell across his apartment at Jeno, check my phone eleven twenty-two as if his birthday was enough security.
The message is oddly familiar.
From Jeno
Miss you.