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“You did a good job today, sunbaenim.”
All of the hair stands up on Jaemin’s neck as Yeonjun’s breath ghosts over his ear.
He spins around, almost tangling his in-ears, and has to blink at the outfit—or lack thereof really—they have Yeonjun in for today’s stage.
“Hyung, I was hoping I’d see you. It’s been a while since we promoted at the same time.” Jaemin bows low, arching away from Yeonjun’s fingers creeping at his waist.
Not here. Not in front of the others. He wills the thought out of his mind and into Yeonjun’s, praying he’ll get the message.
He doesn’t, clapping Haechan on the shoulder and chatting as he digs his fingers in all of the gaps in Jaemin’s ribs.
Which is strange, because Yeonjun had dug his way under Jaemin’s skin months before and made a home in the depths of his bones. He didn’t need to prod and poke like this—Jaemin could feel all of the fingerprints Yeonjun had left in his soul and in his heart every time he closed his eyes.
“Yoooo, hyung this fit is kinda…” Haechan blinks a few times and flails his hands. Jaemin has no fucking idea what that means but Yeonjun seems to understand.
“Right? The stylists are fucking insane, I heard a fan literally fainted in our pre-recording this morning.” Yeonjun clicks his tongue and it sticks right under Jaemin’s skin. “So hot someone fainted is nuts for the ego, right Jaem?" He prods at Jaemin’s side again as he says it.
If Haechan notices something more than playful banter is happening, he doesn’t say anything. God bless you Lee Donghyuck.
“Jaemin is the same hyung, the fans are always freaking the fuck out, when he did that center move today with the,” Haechan mimics the thrusting Jaemin does mid-verse, “man I thought my in-ears were going to burst.”
“It’s not really like that,” Jaemin starts, but loses the rest of his sentence to the hand Yeonjun is ghosting up his spine. Feather-light touches that remind Jaemin of their first time, all those months ago.
A piggy back gone wrong, Renjun toppling sideways during the confetti falling on them—NCT Dream’s twentieth win. Jaemin had lost his footing trying to stop Renjun from getting hurt and a pair of hands had steadied him at the waist.
“Sunbaenim… be careful, yeah?” Yeonjun’s voice had been dripping with lust and his eyes had blown wide as his fingers had dug into Jaemin’s sides. His mouth had been too close and Jaemin had been thankful for the overuse of confetti for the first time in his life.
Twenty minutes later, Jaemin had been backed into a stall in the men’s bathroom and Yeonjun’s hands had chased all of the breath out of his lungs.
Yeonjun’s cock is thick and long and he’s merciless with it as he tangles his fingers into Jaemin’s hair and pistons his hips back and forward, fucking Jaemin’s face into the door of the bathroom stall.
“It won’t matter if your throat is fucked anyway, Jaemin-ah, it’s not like you sing often.” Yeonjun had said, then he’d kissed him like it hadn’t been an insult. It should have been, it should have stung Jaemin—but it didn’t, he was right. Jaemin wanted the weight of his cock choking him more than he wanted lines on the next album.
It happened just like that every time their promotions overlapped. Yeonjun would find Jaemin and drag him into a dark corner. Then he’d lock him behind a door and fuck his face until Jaemin was crying with the effort and his makeup was smeared in directions he could never explain to the makeup artists.
They never had sex, never went further than that. Just Jaemin on his knees, a hole for Yeonjun to fill with cum before he finished his promotions for the day.
And Jaemin didn’t mind, not really, but Yeonjun’s cock was big as fuck, and Jaemin really wanted to know if he’d still be able to dance after riding Yeonjun for a good few hours.
“...min. Jaemin!” Chenle’s kitten paw swats at his shoulder. “Will you come and film this TikTok challenge with me or are you just going to stare at the wall for another ten minutes?
“Right, yeah—” Jaemin looks around, but Yeonjun and Haechan have both disappeared, probably to smoke. “Sorry, Le, yeah let’s go film.
Jaemin lets himself be dragged away by Chenle, but his mind stays in the corridor, on Yeonjun, and the way his fingers might feel somewhere except the dips at the bottom of his spine.
💦
Jaemin decides he’s had enough of waiting, and decides today is the day to find out exactly what all of Yeonjun feels like in all of Jaemin’s cracks and crevices. All of the little gaps he’s filtered into, like the smoke from the Marlboro’s Jaemin can always smell on him.
🐇: you free after i finish for the day?
🦊: you read my mind, bathroom in an hour? or?
🐇: i was actually thinking my place, in two
🦊: send the address from naver maps, kakao never works for me
Jaemin obeys, because he always does when it’s Yeonjun asking, and then hails his manager to get him a ride back to his apartment.
Two hours, a ticking time bomb until Jaemin has to have a plan, has to have this all figured out. Jaemin wants Yeonjun, Jaemin knows some part of Yeonjun wants him too—there has to be something keeping them hot and heavy in all of the broadcasting company bathrooms.
The problem is, Jaemin doesn’t know if Yeonjun wants this. He’s never pressed, never pushed for it. He’s never even gotten Jaemin off at all, or even asked if he wants too. That should make Jaemin pause, and rethink everything he’s about to do—but it doesn’t. He’s down fucking bad and he needs to text Chenle and tell him what he’s planned to make sure it isn’t the complete worst idea of all time.
So he does.
minniemouse: tell me not to do it
lelelelelele: yeonjun? you wont listen anyway
minniemouse: hes coming to my apartment
lelelelelele: you are a fucking idiot and youll still do it
minniemouse: thank you for your help, i love you forever!!!!
lelelelelele: if you love me video call me so i can watch, that man is fine as hell
Jaemin huffs a laugh and throws his phone down onto the bed in front of him, face down so he can choose whether or not he has to endure anymore of Chenle’s teasing.
He glances at the digital clock on his bedside table. One hour until Yeonjun comes.
Jaemin flicks on the hot water at the panel in his kitchen and locks the door of the bathroom for no reason—he lives alone, and Yeonjun can’t get in without him.
The hot water does nothing to assuage his nerves, not even when he turns the heat up all the way and watches as his skin turns an angry red with the heat. He lets the water cascade over his head and drip down in slow, searing tracks from his shoulders to his ankles as his forehead leans against the cold tile. He takes as many deep breaths as he can muster before the steam of the shower overwhelms him.
Jaemin hasn’t fucked anyone in a while, barely has time with his schedule, so he spends extra time cleaning everything, even dusts off the old douche in his cupboard that he never got to use that Haechan gifted him for secret santa a few years ago. Asshole.
Nothing can fuck this up. Nothing
It’s Yeonjun.
Everything has to be perfect.
💦
“You’re here.” Jaemin says, eyes wide as he opens the door to Yeonjun leaning against the wall.
“Yes,” Yeonjun says, a sly smirk on his face. “....You literally invited me?”
I did do that. Jaemin thinks to himself. God, fuck, why did I do that?
“Uh yeah, right—uh—come in?” Jaemin wants to sound more confident with a desperation that tingles across all of his fingers.
But he isn’t, he’s fucking shitting himself.
Which is stupid, really, because the door isn’t even closed before Yeonjun is on him with clawing hands and biting teeth.
“God I’ve waited so long to get you somewhere I can really sink my teeth into you,” he says, crowding Jaemin against the wall as he tries to pull the door closed. “I’m going to swallow you whole, sunbae.”
Jaemin gasps as Yeonjun's teeth graze over his neck, but his skin prickles at the formality. “Jaemin. Just Jaemin, I can’t—we’re not—not here, please hyung.”
Yeonjun shivers against him, licking at the mark he’s just bitten into the side of Jaemin’s neck. Sorry makeup noonas. “I do like it so much when you call me hyung.”
Jaemin can’t stay here much longer, he needs more, wants more, needs to be anywhere except the cramped shoe storage area at the front of his apartment. “Hyung—I want—”
“Finally. Finally speaking up for yourself. It was pathetic watching you take my cock and not ask for a single thing back from me. You deserve more than being a fucking cum bucket for me Jaemin. Tell me what you want.” Yeonjun pulls back and tips Jaemin’s chin up with his fingers. “Tell me how to make you feel good the way you’ve been making me feel good all these months, baby.”
Baby. It sends a shiver straight up Jaemin’s spine and all of the heat in his body floods downwards to his cock. “Oh—I—”
“Oh? You like baby? Cocky confident visual center Jaemin Na likes being called baby? Or do you like princess more.”
Jaemin actually moans this time, open mouthed, sliding down the wall as his knees give out underneath him. “Hyung—please–”
“Fuck.” Yeonjun’s pupils are completely blown, and he’s looking at Jaemin like he’s a meal after a month of comeback dieting. “Hyuckie was right. You really do like that.”
“What the hell has Haechan been telling you,” Jaemin pushes at Yeonjun’s chest to give himself space to breathe.
“Anything I want, princess. He wants in on Winter and I fucked her a while ago. We exchanged some… valuable information.”
Jaemin feels like his skin is going to vibrate away from his skeleton, closed in like this, in a corner of his apartment. “I—ah—okay. Can we—bedroom?” He jerks his head towards it. “Then I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you what I want.”
For half a second Yeonjun just looks at him, really takes his time scouring every inch of Jaemin with his eyes, lip caught between his teeth.
The he laughs under his breath, low and wrecked. “Lead the way, princess.”
Jaemin’s legs still haven’t fully returned to him, and he stumbles across the apartment to his bedroom door. Yeonjun’s hands are glued to him, squeezing at his ass, at his chest, at his sides. They barely make it across the room before Yeonjun has him pinned against another wall, teeth sharp against his neck again.
“Hyung.” Jaemin’s fingers curl into Yeonjun’s shirt. “Bed. Please. We have to—”
“Whatever you say princess,” he says, pulling back eyes trailing to the bedroom door. “Let’s go.”
The door slams against the wall as they tumble in, hands still all over each other. Neither of them bother to close it, and Jaemin really hopes the cats don’t come prying as his knees bang against the foot of the bed and he topples backwards.
Yeonjun follows him like he has a gravitational pull, dropping down with a palm at the side of Jaemin’s head to study him.
“You look so fucking hot like this,” he says, the necklace around his throat dangling and tickling at Jaemin’s chin. “We should have been doing this the whole time.”
“Then stop talking and do something.” Jaemin snaps, grabbing at the front of Yeonjun’s shirt and yanking him down so their lips can meet.
The kiss is wet, intense and wet and it makes Jaemin’s head spin. Their teeth clash together and at some point Jaemin loses track of who’s tongue is who’s as they groan into the heat of each other’s mouths.
Yeonjun’s hand slips under Jaemin’s shirt and he finally pulls away. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking warm. Did you boil yourself in the shower?”
Jaemin feels his cheeks redden. “I—I wanted to make sure I was clean for you hyung.”
“You’re stupid,” Yeonjun says tilting his head to the side. “Maybe I wanted you filthy from the music show.” He drags his thumb across Jaemin’s hipbone and inhales at the way Jaemin shakes. “Arms up.”
The command shoots a bolt of arousal through Jaemin and his cock jumps against his jeans. He obeys, because of course he does, and Yeonjun makes quick work of the thin cotton, casting it aside to the corner of the bedroom. Then Yeonjun sits back on his heels and exhales, shaky.
Jaemin knows he’s hot, first of all. He works out, he eats well, he takes good fucking care of himself. He knows his chest bulges out of all of his shirts, and his abs peek in just the right way if he gets a good pump at the gym. The way Yeonjun looks down at him makes Jaemin feel more naked, more seen than he ever has in life.
“Hyung… what…”
“God,” Yeonjun’s voice is hoarse. “Look at you.”
Jaemin tries to cover his face with one hand and Yeonjun snarls, pinning both of his arms above his head with his whole weight. “Ah—don’t say it like that.” Jaemin squirms, but Yeonjun’s grip is firm.
“Like what, princess?” Yeonjun leans down again, brushing his nose against Jaemin’s. “Like you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen? Like I want to slam my cock into you so hard you sound like the pretty princess you are? What? Tell me baby. Which part is bothering you?”
Jaemin doesn’t reply. Can’t, honestly. He wriggles one more time in Yeonjun’s grip and then groans, bucking his hips upwards to try and find some friction for his aching cock. “Hyung, please. I need you to fucking touch me. I’ve needed you to touch me for months.”
“Well why didn’t you just.” Yeonjun flicks open Jaemin’s belt with one hand. “Fucking.” Then opens his button. “Ask.” He uses both hands to pull Jaemin’s jeans down his legs, and fiddles for a second until they’re completely off.
They sit in silence for a beat, as Yeonjun drags his eyes all over Jaemin’s body, and then Jaemin loses his patience.
“Hyung. Off. Clothes off. I’m tired of waiting.”
“Okay, damn,” Yeonjun giggles. “Bossy.”
“You wanted me to speak up, I’m speaking up.” Jaemin shoots back, eyes lowering into a mock glare.
“Good.” Yeonjun sits back on his heels again and peels his shirt off, laughing as he hears Jaemin gasp before it’s even completely gone.
He’s seen Yeonjun shirtless before, of course. He’s been shirtless for album concepts. He’s seen shaky fancams where Yeonjun’s shirt has ridden up so high you can see the pink slope of his nipples.
Seeing it towering above him in real time—it’s a whole different cage of feelings that Jaemin hopes stays locked shut, just until he gets Yeonjun inside of him, just until he’s gotten one taste, before he ruins it all.
“You’re staring princess.” Yeonjun sounds amused. “You wanna help, or am I taking these off all by myself?”
Jaemin doesn’t need to be asked twice. He surges up, catching Yeonjun’s bottom lip between his teeth as his hands fumble with the sweatpants at Yeonjun’s hips. He can’t get his fingers in between the knot, can’t untie it enough to pull them down and he almost growls out of fury.
Yeonjun laughs against his lips, breathless, and bats Jaemin’s hand away to undo it himself. “Easy, baby. We’ve got time.”
“Easy for you to say, I’ve been sucking you off for months.” Jaemin says, a little too honest. “My balls are about to fucking burst hyung. Fucking touch me.”
“What vivid imagery. Horrible. Not what I want to think about with you under me to be honest princess.” Yeonjun throws his sweats behind him and pushes at Jaemin’s chest until he’s lying flat again. “But, as you wish.”
He’s slow about it. Torturous, teasing. An asshole, if you’d asked Jaemin on the spot.
Yeonjun’s hand slides down Jaemin’s chest, fingers played, ghosting over the hardened nub of his nipples. Jaemin arches up as the hand slides to his side, dancing down his waist. His breath catches hard when Yeonjun gets to his boxers and drags a single finger across the entire waistline.
“I’ve thought about what you’d look like with me like this for a long time, Jaemin.” Yeonjun’s fingers curl under the waistband, not teasing anymore—determined. “I’ve always wanted to touch you like this.”
Sweet relief, when Yeonjun finally does. It washes over Jaemin when Yeonjun’s hand finally closes around his cock.
Jaemin almost cums, but he bites at his lip hard until the pain drives his orgasm back to the depths.
Yeonjun is rough with it, after that. He pants into Jaemin’s mouth as he jerks at his cock, flicking his wrist every few tugs to make Jaemin moan into him. Jaemin cums in what feels like seconds, his cock spitting thick white ropes of cum all over both of them as Yeonjun whispers about how good he is.
“How long do you need to take a break for princess?” Yeonjun says, snatching a towel hanging from Jaemin’s wardrobe door. “I really don’t want that to be the only orgasm I get out of you today.”
Yeonjun’s answer comes in Jaemin’s dick twitching, immediately chubbing out at the base again.
“Hyung… please… I want you inside of me. I’m clean. I haven’t—not in ages, I’ve been tested since. I—please. No condom. Fuck me, properly.” Jaemin’s voice is a low groan of breathlessness that even he doesn’t recognize. “Please.”
Yeonjun growls, primal, as he pushes Jaemin’s knees outwards. It spreads Jaemin completely open in one rough movement that makes him gasp.
“Relax baby, I’ll make it easy.” Yeonjun says, dropping down onto his elbows in between Jaemin’s thighs. “Let me open you up for me.”
“No, hyung I—in the shower–” Jaemin trips over the words as Yeonjun’s face hardens.
“You fingered yourself already?” There’s a genuine anger simmering under his voice. “You stole that from me?”
“I just—I thought–” Jaemin genuinely recoils at the fire burning across Yeonjun’s face. “I’m sorry, hyung. You just never seemed bothered about me before.”
Yeonjun softens at that. “Right, I’ve been kind of the most selfish asshole on Earth. Next time, let me do it, I want to feel you fall apart on my fingers princess.”
“N–next time? Hyung?” Jaemin’s brain feels like mush, sloshing around in his skull as the words try to trudge their way through the mess.
“Oh baby,” Yeonjun pulls Jaemin in by his neck for another kiss. “Did you really think I wouldn’t want you this way again?”
💦
True to his word, Yeonjun has Jaemin in every way possible. Multiple times a week, after their first time in Jaemin's bed, except when they’re touring. Unless they're touring in the same city, of course.
This time, they're in Singapore. Jaemin has the hotel pillow clamped between his teeth with Yeonjun’s tongue lapping at his rim. Yeonjun’s hands hold Jaemin steady at his waist as he licks him open, and Jaemin can’t even remember what day it is, strings of unintelligible syllables pouring out of his mouth.
“God—fuck—hyung—I’m gonna–”
“Not now, not yet,” Yeonjun pulls out, planting a kiss on Jaemin’s ass. “I want you to cum when I’m inside you.”
Yeonjun sometimes likes to see Jaemin’s eyes flutter, sometimes he likes him against the wall. Today he wants Jaemin face down in the pillow as he fucks him open.
When Yeonjun pushes in, it always hurts, it doesn’t matter how long he scissors his fingers into Jaemin, pumping them in and out until Jaemin’s brain hardly works anymore, slurring Yeonjun’s name around little moans of pleasure. It doesn’t matter how long he laps at Jaemin’s rim, stretching the hole open with his obscenely long tongue. It always hurts, Yeonjun is just fucking massive.
Today is no different, the stretch burns and Jaemin has to bite down on his lip to stop the tears prickling at the sides of his eyes. “Fuck, hyung you’re so fucking big.”
“You fuckin’ bet.” Yeonjun says. Jaemin can’t see him, face buried into the pillow, but he can hear Yeonjun’s lip caught between his teeth, the way the sounds hiss through the gaps.
Yeonjun sets a punishing pace, Jaemin’s knees inching further apart as he tries to maintain the arch to his back, tries to fuck back onto Yeonjun’s cock.
Jaemin whines on a particularly hard thrust that finally flattens him against the mattress, his cock hard and leaking, dragging against the duvet underneath it. The friction is fucking delicious, burning just enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting up and down his spine.
“God–fuck—you sound amazing Jaem. Flip over, let me see you.” Yeonjun pulls out and Jaemin whines at the loss, the way his hole flutters around nothing, but Yeonjun makes quick work of turning him around and fucking straight back into him, filling him completely as he pushes their foreheads together. “You gonna sing for me, princess?”
Jaemin can’t form words anymore, completely fucked out of his mind and barely hanging on to the one thread of sanity he has left as Yeonjun slows it down, dragging his cock backwards and forwards out of Jaemin’s hole so slowly Jaemin can feel every single vein as it pulses along his walls.
“Wanna—wanna cum, hyung.” Jaemin manages, when the pleasure starts bubbling in his stomach on the edge of almost painful. “Wanna cum with you.”
Yeonjun loses it then, no control over his words anymore as he pounds back into Jaemin, hips clashing together so hard Jaemin can already feel the bruises forming. He’s sloppy with it, his cock slipping out a few times and growling as he shoves it back in, their sweat mixing in the stench of sex lingering between them.
“Almost—fuck—” Yeonjun’s grip is loose now, sweat-soaked fingertips slippery all over Jaemin’s body. “Y’gonna cum with me, huh princess?”
Jaemin nods frantically, the tension in his stomach seconds away from snapping, seconds away from all of the pleasure bursting across his nerve endings like fireworks.
“Let’s go baby, let’s go together.” Yeonjun fucks in deep one more time with a low groan and Jaemin can feel the heat as he spills into him.
The wet sound of Yeonjun pulling out and sliding back in slowly is the final straw for Jaemin, as he brings a hand to his own cock and swipes a thumb across the tip, the muscles in his stomach tighten and he aims upwards, his cum spurting across his chest—some of it reaching as high as his chin.
Yeonjun thrusts his way through his own high, slow and grunting as he rides out every last second of it. Jaemin gives up trying to keep up when his own high subsides, content to be the hole Yeonjun fills and nothing more.
Because that’s what it is, just two men who need each other, two men who want to get off with someone hot.
Jaemin has to tell himself that, as Yeonjun pulls out and drops his weight down onto him.
Has to remind himself as Yeonjun drops a lazy kiss to his lips.
Jaemin has to chant it to himself in his mind, as Yeonjun drifts asleep next to him, the ghost of an unsaid “I love you” hanging between them, never acknowledged, never truly known.