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Jo has never said or done a mean thing in his life, probably. Yuma would chalk him up to always playing by the rules, probably seated at his desk before the bell rings every morning. That would’ve been years ago now, but Yuma doubts his face changed much. Jo has that boyish charm that girls follow automatically. Consider Yuma one of those girls, in that case.
Yuma doesn’t consider himself lucky that Jo picked him. He built this relationship brick by brick. Well, they both did. Obviously, that’s how relationships work. But Jo isn’t much of a go-getter, in the sense that he would’ve let his little crush simmer for a few more years. Maybe it would’ve bubbled out of him unwillingly, maybe he would’ve blurted it out on stage or in front of all their friends. Maybe his ears would’ve fallen off from how burning hot they were and he would’ve up and left the room because he couldn’t take the mortifying ordeal of being known any longer. Regardless, Yuma doesn’t have to fantasize about any of these outcomes, because Jo is his.
He asked him out over dinner, a quiet affair. Pure coincidence that it ended up being only the two of them too, their manager having to take care of a last minute emergency back at the office, the rest of their members scattered between the dorms and schedules. Life aligns if you wait long enough. Yuma wasn’t going to wait for this, though, and he’s glad he didn’t. Now he can say Jo is his, and he is Jo’s. It’s been like that for the last few months, and things have been going well.
In a way, it’s almost going too well.
He’s never seen his boyfriend crack. Never gotten truly angry. He knows what he looks like with fire, passion and a desire to perform behind his eyes as he walks up the stairs onto the main stage. He knows what he looks like when he cries, from quiet nights during the audition to sad movie date nights between the two of them. Those days, Yuma would quietly laugh and wipe his tears with his thumb, kissing the tear tracks.
But Yuma has never seen Jo snap. Not that he wants to irritate Jo to that degree, (if that’s Nicholas and Euijoo’s foreplay of choice, let that be between them and God), but sometimes he wonders. He sees Jo get frustrated with himself during practice, throwing a water bottle or small towel with a little more force than needed. He usually only receives a side glance or one word from one of the hyungs, getting away with it for the most part considering how little he acts out (compared to Yuma, compared to all of them). Call him a freak, but it was these little instances that made Yuma first wonder if Jo would ever consider being just a little rougher.
One time, Yuma was asked to film a challenge with another idol. Sometimes with these challenges, you get lucky and you film with a friend. This wasn’t the case here— this was one of those challenges where their staff walks into the green room and basically asks for a volunteer. Unfortunately Yuma was one of the only ones awake, so the sacrificial lamb he was. The rookie idol wasn’t the worst, and was actually quite friendly. It was the typical back hallway of a music show, and in between takes the hallway continued to hustle and bustle. The guy was a cutie, but Yuma and Jo had been together for about a month at this point. Of course, he didn’t know that, so Yuma nearly flinched when he had the nerve to brush one of Yuma’s arms with his fingertips. It was a moment so fleeting, but it definitely grew in scope when Jo’s hand was on his wrist in the next second. Yuma wonders, in hindsight, whether Jo was watching from afar the whole challenge, or if it really was just a coincidence that he was walking by, as Jo said.
It was funny watching Jo scramble for an excuse for his sudden behavior, asking if he was done under the guise of Taki, of all members, looking for him. Yuma knew better, since Taki was snoring when he left, but he let himself be dragged out of the hallway, shooting the rookie only an apologetic smile. Once they got back to their green room, the two of them were face to face, Jo breathing just a smidge harder than usual. Yuma smirked, and he wanted to raise his eyebrows, wanted to ask him What’s wrong Jojo? but the next second the members needed to be gathered, sleeping members awoken, and the two scrambled apart. When Yuma looked back at him the next moment, Jo looked like a clean slate, like any other day.
There was a glint in his eye though, a different fire than usual. Yuma was in between convincing himself it was real and that he imagined it.
—
Yuma hates the stupid short shorts they put him in. Oh haha they put the maknae line in shorts! Shut up, Maki. Whenever possible he wanted to sit down, if only to save himself from the eventual soreness in the soles of his feet, but that only caused his shorts to ride up even higher, basically at mid thigh. He tried to tug them down, really, but every time he looked back they went back to their original place.
He was in one of those lawn chairs off to the side while another member, he thinks Euijoo, was doing his solos. He honestly was on the verge of dozing off, eyes fluttering closed while his phone was still on and in hand, when something soft fell into his lap and woke him right back up. His eyes shot open, surprised to see a soft gray blanket. Jo plopped into the chair next to him, dragging it so they were arm to arm. Yuma wishes there was one big bed they could cuddle in right about now. He thinks about it multiple times a day, if he could just fuse into one person with Jo, become the singular creature they spoke of in Greek mythology instead of two halves of a whole. For now though, they must settle for being two people, two individuals in two separate chairs.
“Sleepy?” Jo questioned, already pulling the blanket over him properly. Yuma hummed, already letting his eyes close again now that he knows he’s safe. Jo shifts the blanket a bit more and he realizes he’s also placing it on his own lap. “Let’s share.”
Since they both had already gone and still have two more members before they start group photos, Yuma lets himself doze off. He’s a pro at sleeping upright now, a skill acquired from three years of waiting rooms and car rides.
Minutes blur by, and he’s still conscious, but his thoughts have begun to muddle. A few more minutes and he probably would’ve drifted into a decent nap. Instead, he feels a warm pressure right above his knee, undoubtedly Jo’s hand. It’s negligible, really, but the first thought to cross Yuma’s mind is that this is pretty unlike Jo. At schedules, they tend to be pretty unaffectionate. The whole idol thing, alongside Jo just not being a person of PDA most days. Inside their dorm is a different story, where most days consist of K, Fuma or Maki walking in on Yuma clinging to Jo like a second skin. But never near staff if they can help it. He guesses the blanket helps.
Before he can even blink (well, his eyes are closed), he feels the pressure move up his leg, just a little, but Yuma immediately begins to realize what game his boyfriend is playing. His hand is part way up, between his knee and the hem of his shorts, as he begins to draw shapes on his inner thigh
Just as the heat starts to swirl in his belly, his hand shoots to grab Jo’s. He can’t afford a hard on right now, and as much as he would love to drag Jo into the nearest restroom and have his way, he knows he can’t. His eyes fly open and make eye contact with the perpetrator right away, who has a small smile on his face as if he was doing nothing wrong.
“Jo,” he says, between his teeth and under his breath. No one but them can hear the scolding tone of his voice. The smile lingers on Jo’s face, and despite Yuma’s hold on him, he’s able to scrape his hand higher up his thigh. Suddenly he realizes Jo’s fingers, long and dainty and soft from all the hand lotion he likes to keep on himself, have made their way past the bottom hem of his shorts, truly around mid thigh, and much closer to his crotch than is safe if he wants to not sport a hard on during the photos.
“I’ll kill you,” he stage whispers. Jo’s smile only gets bigger. He takes the empty threat as his chance to squeeze, and Yuma has no choice but to shoot out of his chair in his last ditch effort of maintaining modesty.
— 🍚
Yuma had told Jo he wanted a tattoo. To be fair, maybe it was just in passing a few months ago, but better than no warning! Yuma doesn’t think he should be so surprised.
On one of their miraculous schedule-less days, a beacon in the midst of their busy schedules, Yuma gets it bright and early in the morning. He sort of keeps it a secret from the other members, except for Euijoo and Fuma, who need to at least know where he is, and thus by proxy Nicholas and K. It takes two and a half hours, and Yuma thinks he fell asleep in the middle of the session, but he loves how it turns out. The first thing to cross his mind is how Jo is gonna react.
By bedtime, his bandage is off as he walks into his room shirtless, toweling his hair.
Jo glances over for the sole purpose of staring at his boyfriend in peace, but the flash of ink draws his attention to the top of his hip bone. His eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head, and Yuma is walking around as if he didn’t change his entire world view. The skin glistens, probably with the vaseline he had to cover it with post-shower.
Jo starts to viscerally react in seconds, his skin heating up and his heart beginning to race, all because he saw his boyfriend with a tattoo. He can’t even get any words out by the time Yuma hops onto the bed, eyes already glued to a reel playing on his phone. Jo continues to quietly observe, mouth agape. It’s a lily behind a chain link fence, beautifully illustrated. It’s very Yuma, barely concealed beauty, guarded but not obstructed.
His fingers move before his mind catches up. He’s running them across the tender flesh, still pink, either from the scalding water or the scrapes of the needle. Either way, he knows Yuma likes the smidges of pain here and there.
The goosebumps appear as Yuma startles. His fur would’ve stood up straight if he were any more cat-like, but instead he flinches, eyes flicking over to Jo.
Neither of them breathe, waiting for the other to say something about the obvious surprise. It’s Jo who breaks first.
“When did you get it?”
“This morning. You were asleep ‘til around noon, remember?” He does. He remembers Yuma not being home as he groggily wandered their hallways, but minutes later he appeared with takeout, so he assumed that’s all he stepped out for. He should’ve paid more attention.
“I really like it,” he whispers, running his fingers over it gently, not wanting to infect the artwork.
Yuma grins with all his teeth on display. “Thanks, Jojo. The artist really outdid themself.”
They’re squeezed into Yuma’s bed side by side. Jo is turned onto his side to face Yuma, propped up on his own elbow. Embarrassingly, he feels his gut stir and himself filling up. All because his boyfriend got a tattoo. Part of it is the placement. Yes, his shirt will occasionally ride up when the stylists dress him as such, but typically this is only for him to see. When he’s swathed in layers and baggy hoodies 3 sizes too big, even when he’s just in a tank and sweats, Jo is the one who gets to see it. Gets to see Yuma, all like this.
Raking his eyes up from the tattoo to his boyfriends face, he’s met with nearly jet black pupils, blown out. His typically pale skin is flush pink, and Jo can’t hold back anymore.
He smashes their mouths together, quite painfully, a decent amount of teeth involved. He couldn’t care less. They easily find the rhythm they’re both used to, but Jo is the one to pick up the pace, to unlock the gates of Yuma’s lips by licking inside. He explores each crevice, tracing the ridges and bumps of Yuma’s teeth, paying special attention to his snaggletooth. He loves it, he loves it so much it drives him insane.
Yuma can barely breathe into the kiss, if you could even call it that. Jo has never been this fierce, this overwhelming with how he’s kissed, like a fire that can’t be tamed anymore. He has to pant to keep up with the pace Jo is moving at, his long limbs already trapping Yuma against the bed, one of his hands square in the middle of Yuma’s chest, pushing him down. When they finally separate, plenty of spit left on Yuma’s lips and a strand of it dangling from Jo’s to commemorate, Yuma finds himself flat against the mattress, with Jo straddling him and seated right on top of his dick. When he looks to where they’re connected, he has one hand on the tattoo, tracing the line work with his index finger.
“I wish I was there, when you got the tattoo,” he thinks aloud, “I wonder what kind of faces you would’ve made.” Unexpectedly, the hand on his chest moves upward, landing at the base of Yuma’s throat. His breath hitches, even with no pressure applied. His other hand lands next to Yuma’s ear, and Jo leans in close. On the exhale, Yuma feels Jo’s breath fan out over his face. It’s warm and minty. “I bet you liked the pain.”
“Stupid,” Yuma huffs back, dragging Jo into another searing kiss, “of course I did.”
It takes Jo quite a while to break out of the kiss, because it’s like dragging a kid out of a candy store, everything he could ever want in front of him. Eventually, he does, with Yuma subconsciously leaning up to chase after him. Jo isn’t free for long though, dragging his lips to his jaw, down his neck, along the curve of his body, and stopping right at the tattoo. Jo salivates at the thought of leaving a bruise right over the flower. A symbol of purity, he remembers faintly, tainted by his own mark. Unfortunately, it still glistens with the shine of petroleum jelly, a taste Jo admittedly does not want in his mouth. He instead settles for marking right above it. He gives Yuma no fair warning, biting without regard. It earns him something between a yelp and moan, a throaty noise. When he’s done with his mark, he sits up once again. He shifts, and feels the bulge settle square between his cheeks. Jo intentionally rocks on it, causing Yuma to make noises even Jo has never heard before.
Jo, audaciously, laughs.
“Next time, I wanna see you in those stupid shorts from the angel jacket shoot, and nothing else.” He peels off his white tank top right after his comment.
Yuma gasps, both from the comment, and from the momentum Jo is setting while rocking onto his cock.
“You’re such a perv,” he chokes out between stilted breaths, but one of Yuma’s hands naturally find home in the dip of Jo’s hips, the other touching Jo’s abs. “And as good as this feels, I need you to fuck me today, Jojo.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Yuma almost wishes he hadn’t said anything, because in the next moment, Jo is sliding off of him. Yuma would whine if it weren’t for Jo immediately moving downwards, his face leveling to Yuma’s crotch, kissing the outline of his cock. He takes off Yuma’s pajama pants quickly to reveal his briefs. They’re a light gray, but from the amount of saliva Jo has pooled in his mouth as he mouths at him, plus how wet Yuma is from what Jo just did to him, they’re quickly turning dark.
Carefully, Jo peels away the briefs, and Yuma’s cock springs up once it’s freed. It would almost be comical, but there’s nothing funny about how turned on Yuma is right now. Jo’s eyes are darker than he has ever seen them, swirling with want and raw desire. The outline of his own dick is so noticeable in his own sweats that Yuma feels himself salivate as well.
Yuma cries out as Jo immediately takes his head into his mouth. It’s incredibly soft and warm, and Jo won’t stop using his tongue to play with the edge and the vein of it. Yuma has to will himself to not finish right then and there, because something about Jo lately has made Yuma easy, and he knows he’s not going to last long tonight.
Jo takes the sound as encouragement, and takes Yuma as far as he can. He has a relatively small mouth, but the friction and constant attack of his tongue staves off any possible disappointment. Suddenly, a wet feeling is prodding at his hole, and Yuma’s hips kick up. Jo gags a little bit and is forced to pull off, but no real harm is done, if Yuma is reading the small grin on Jo’s face correctly.
“You’re such a freak today. What’s gotten into you, Jojo?” The words would sound mean plainly, but it’s the quiet laugh and the way he chokes at the end of the sentence, due to Jo prodding at his entrance, that shows that Yuma likes it. He more than likes it, actually.
He simply shrugs in response. “You did mention the other time you wanted me to go a bit— harder.”
This is true. The amazing, mind-blowing sex they usually have is a nice routine. Yuma opens himself up, they fuck face to face, Yuma’s the chatty one as Jo grunts and groans and spills into the condom.
But Yuma isn’t afraid to admit that this side of Jo is more than welcome. Call Yuma overjoyed, actually.
At the thought, Jo takes Yuma back into his throat and inserts his first finger. Yuma groans at the dual sensation, digging his nails into his palm to stave off his orgasm. It’s his last resort, and he’s not gonna be able to hold off much longer.
Yuma’s last thoughts slowly melt away as Jo starts to move. Primarily his finger, but once he sets his pace, he starts to bob his head as well. Yuma has half a mind to thread his free hand through Jo’s hair, but doesn’t push. He just likes the grounding feeling, and guesses it would be mutual.
Yuma somehow survives the haze of being thoroughly worked open by Jo. He thinks he gets to fitting three fingers, but can’t really remember, his body immediately tightening after he loses the sensation of being full. It’s only in his human nature to complain about the loss, but he’s quickly silenced with a kiss.
It’s startlingly sweet, in contrast to the way Jo’s been acting today, but it’s the Jo he knows and loves. It’s supposed to be a quick peck, he can tell, but in the brief moment Jo is hovering above him, Yuma uses the grip he has to immediately pull him back down, smashing their mouths together.
They both moan into the kiss as they let their tongues relearn one another. When they finally pull back, the words tumble out of Yuma faster than he can regain the rest of his senses— “I love you.”
It’s basically a breath, but it ignites Jo’s ears aflame all the same. “I love you too, Yuma.”
“Great. Now grab a condom and get inside me.”
He giggles, fully giggles, as he kicks off his sweatpants and underwear in one go. He perches on his own heels and grabs his own cock, stroking it slowly. “Do you think—” He seems to contemplate for a bit, way too slowly for Yuma’s liking. “—we could forego the condom today?”
Yuma is too shocked by the request to laugh at his choice of wording. He could laugh, he could moan, but all he does is stutter out a “Y-yeah” that finally springs Jo into action. He grabs the previously discarded lube and squeezes some straight onto his dick. Jo hisses at the temperature, but his impatience bleeds through with how quickly he strokes himself. He quickly crawls over Yuma and lines himself up. Yuma’s breath hitches.
The first push is always both the best and the worst. It’s the stretch that does it for Yuma, the borderline pain, which they established he likes a little too much. Jo gives him no leeway, pressing all the way in. Slowly, but all in one go, until he’s fully seated. They moan in sync, Jo dropping his forehead to Yuma’s. He gives Yuma some time to adjust, but he feels as though he could vibrate out of his own skin. He’s afraid his body may just start moving on its own if Yuma doesn’t say something soon.
Luckily Jo doesn’t have to worry about that, because he both sees and feels Yuma nod. He even hears him whine, something that sounds oddly catlike, as it seems words have escaped him. Jo wants to quip something like Speechless already? but he wants to feel Yuma in his entirety more than he wants to be funny.
He had almost forgotten this is their first time fucking raw, but now that Jo is finally moving, it’s impossible to not notice. Yuma feels like he’s gripping him, and it’s oddly smooth and so, so hot. Jo starts off with slow, thorough thrusts, but Yuma isn’t having it. His whines get louder, and he purposely arches his back once Jo is next fully seated.
Tired of his whining, but more like spurred on, Jo suddenly speeds up his thrusts considerably, and the sound of skin against skin begins to fill the room.
Wordlessly, Jo pulls out. Yuma whines once again. His arms instinctively go to grab Jo by the biceps, but Jo is quicker. He flips Yuma by the hips, positioning him on his knees. Yuma attempts to keep himself up by the elbows for now, but Jo predicts he won’t stay up for long. He tries to quickly feed himself back into Yuma, his hole gaping wide open just for him, and Yuma cries out at the sudden intrusion.
Suddenly, Jo is bringing back the pace they left off at when Yuma was on his back. The grip on Yuma’s hip must be bruising. He hopes he’s narrowly missing grabbing the tattoo, and he thinks he’s succeeded by the lack of a sticky feeling on his fingertips. Yuma is moaning with every thrust under him. Just as predicted, he drops to his chest after three thrusts, but he makes sure to keep a hold on Yuma’s hips. Jo’s thrusts are punching these stilted sounds out of him. He’s starting to lose control, chasing his own pleasure mindlessly.
“Hyung, hyung—” Jo begins to call out.
“Jo, Jo, touch me, please.” It’s a miracle Jo is even able to understand him, Yuma’s cheek squished against the mattress, barely in control of his own body.
Jo lays on top of Yuma, holding himself up by one elbow, fisting Yuma with the other. Jo bites Yuma’s ear, playing with his silver hoops with his tongue, as he continues to chase his own pleasure, using Yuma.
After only a few strokes, Yuma is coming all over his hand, no warning given beforehand. Yuma is panting into the bed, drool and slobber getting everywhere, wet and messy.
Jo is at his maximum capacity, using Yuma to get himself off like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He’s thrusting mindlessly and without regard. Normally, Jo would be worried about hurting him, but he can’t think of anything else but filling Yuma. With the vice-like grip on his cock, it only takes one, two, three more thrusts, before Jo is spilling inside. It goes on for what feels like could’ve been a full minute— Jo fully could’ve blacked out in that time with the way he slumps over Yuma. He immediately wraps himself around the older, tipping them over so that they’re laying on their sides. Yuma squeals.
Though he would never admit it, Yuma was a cuddler post-sex. He wants the body heat of his lover to keep him warm, even if that meant at the expense of cleanliness. Until he can’t stand it anymore, at least. He dozes off for a couple minutes, exhausted and warm, until he wakes to the unbearable, sticky feeling. He wakea up like a bothered cat, kitty punching Jo until he pulls out. He whines at that, too. Only when Yuma is clean, wrapped in Jo and their massive comforter, would he contentedly be quiet again. He basically purrs.
They’re on the verge of falling asleep just like that, until Yuma turns around in Jo’s arms. Jo completely wraps himself around Yuma, so he has to look up into Jo’s eyes. They hold eye contact for a little bit, and Jo feels his stomach swoop. Overcome with an insatiable need, he leans down to kiss Yuma. Just a quick peck, just to seem him frazzle and fluster. Not knowing what to do with himself, Yuma tucks his face back under Jo’s chin and into his chest.
Just as Jo thought they were really about to sleep this time, he felt Yuma shift.
“You’d never survive me getting snake bites, huh,” Yuma whispers into his ear. Jo’s ears had never turned so red.
Jo bites him.