Work Text:
everything is happening
at the wrong end of a very long tunnel.
Richard Siken
“You’re a virgin?”
“Keep it down,” Donghyuck hisses, glancing around the break room and clutching his mug closer to his chest. Jaemin raises his eyebrows, glancing at the clock as if to confirm what he already knows.
It’s eight pm on a Tuesday and they’re both still at work. The only people still at work. Why Donghyuck had chosen to spring this information on him now is anyone’s guess, but Jaemin has always appreciated Donghyuck’s ability to be utterly unpredictable. He’s all rough around the edges still — liable, sometimes, to spit things out, like they’re a bird in a box that simply cannot sit still. Like they need to fly.
“Why?” Jaemin asks.
“Why? Because I haven’t had sex! Why else do you think, Jaemin?”
He’s mildly concerned that Donghyuck might break his mug (pink, labeled with ‘best mom ever’) with how tight he’s clutching it.
“No, I mean. Why should I keep it down? No-one’s here. We could literally do anything right now and no-one would notice.”
“What if the janitor comes? What if someone else stayed behind? I really don’t need anyone knowing about my sex life.”
“Sounds like it’s less a sex life and more a lack of sex life,” Jaemin says. He can’t help it. It’s always fun to get at Donghyuck — a verbal digging of his fingers into his side. Even when it comes to something like this.
Donghyuck glares at him. “Jaemin,” he says, and his face falls open — all those rough edges on display. “Please. I trust you. I just. I need to talk.”
A few drops of rain burst against the outside window — the only sound that isn’t their own breath. Jaemin shifts in his seat, trying not to let the eerie emptiness of the building crowd in on him. It’s the result of finding yourself in a normally bustling place after hours — something unreal. A slip through the veil. Just him and Donghyuck, stuck in a temporary purgatory.
Jaemin lets the quip die on his tongue, realising how serious Donghyuck actually is. “Okay.”
Donghyuck draws his feet up onto the seat, folding them underneath himself. “I—” he starts. Stutters. Bites his lip and looks up at Jaemin. “When do you need to be home?”
“Any time,” Jaemin says. “It doesn’t matter.”
Donghyuck blinks — the arc of his eyelashes the slow crest of a breaker falling towards the shore. Time seems to condense into a single moment, everything held inside a raindrop sliding down a leaf — hanging on the tip until gravity takes over and it falls, shattering against the pavement.
“Can I stay over?”
Jaemin lives alone. Some nights Renjun will come over and they’ll complain about being in their thirties and single over a few glasses of red wine, but that hasn’t happened in a while. At one point there was seven of them — Jeno, Jisung, Yangyang and Mark, too — but then Mark moved back to Canada and Jeno got hitched to Chenle and Jisung set out to travel the world and Yangyang got busy with work and now their little meetings are a party of two.
Three if you count Baby, though these days she seems to prefer sleeping on Jaemin’s bed rather than in Renjun’s lap.
Either way. It’s a far cry from the parties they’d have in their university years. Something inevitable caused by the endless march of time. Things Jaemin can’t get back — that none of them can, unless they somehow get a time machine, anyway.
The front door creaks — hinges Jaemin always forgets to ask the landlord to oil. He holds it open for Donghyuck and they stand together in the hallway for a second, staring at each other in a glance that hangs in time like morning dew on spiderwebs — before Donghyuck leans down and starts to undo his laces.
They hadn’t talked much on the drive back. Donghyuck had just rested his head against the passenger window and stared at the city lights refracted in the raindrops, and Jaemin hadn't wanted to interrupt.
Despite the impulsive decisions that plague his past, Donghyuck is prone to overthinking. Jaemin knows this well — the furrow of his brow, the purse of his lips, eyes darting to the side or staring straight through you. A strange contrast for someone so often full of life — he gets caught in his head sometimes, and he sees it happening here, too.
“I’ll turn the heat on,” Jaemin says, flipping open the cover of the boiler dial and fiddling with it. The lights flicker on, blink of the old bulbs, and one of the floorboards groans beneath Donghyuck’s foot, an orchestral trail of sounds as he crosses the threshold towards the lounge.
“Thank you,” Donghyuck says. The couch sighs beneath his weight. Jaemin is still staring at the boiler.
“No problem." He turns around and flashes Donghyuck a smile. He looks small. Crunched up, folded in on himself like a flower waiting for the spring. "Do you want something to drink?” Jaemin asks.
“Sure. I'll have whatever you’re having.”
The rain fades in and out like tides on the shore, and Jaemin opens the cabinet above the fridge, taking out a bottle Renjun had brought back from Spain and carefully uncorking it. The pop isn't loud, just an exhale of air, vapour floating from the neck that dissipates as quickly as smoke in the wind.
“How did I know you’d get wine?”
“I’m predictable,” Jaemin says, laughing. He pours them both a glass and returns, setting one down in front of Donghyuck and sinking into the cushions beside him.
“It would appear so.”
The room is cast in a soft glow, one of the bulbs overhead burnt out and most of the light spilling from behind them. There’s cat fur on the seat opposite (though Baby is nowhere to be seen) and a few magazines on the coffee table, papers thrown on the floor, pictures of all of them knocked at odd angles on the walls. The curtains are shut but light still leaks through from the shopping complex opposite, and in the background he can hear traffic running along the highway, a steady lull of vehicles moving past.
Donghyuck takes a sip of the wine and smiles at him, eyes soft.
“Been a while since it’s just been me and you, hasn’t it?”
“Only because you keep blowing me and Renjun off.”
"Sorry. You know how it gets."
"Yeah, you decide you're too good for us and then Renjun spends the entire night talking about how you passed out in the fountain at uni on Halloween."
"God, did he really?"
Jaemin laughs. He takes a sip of his wine. "Yeah, among other things."
"Damn." His voice is soft — a little wistful — and were it not for him meeting his eyes Jaemin would almost think he was daydreaming. "I really miss you guys."
"No need to be a stranger."
"I know."
There's a pause. Jaemin regards him — the purse of his lips, the way his throat bobs when he takes a drink from his glass. They've been friends for so long. Years and years — ever since they both wore the same stupid stuffed squirrel hat to a party in their first year of University.
Fourteen years. It's an awfully long time to know someone — an awfully long time to call someone your friend. So many people have come and gone in his life, but Donghyuck has been a constant — sometimes drifting away but always coming back, as if they were tied together.
"So," Jaemin says. It's hesitant, toes in the water, a soft gust of breath. Letting Donghyuck steer where he wants to.
"So," he echoes. "Yeah. Um."
"You don't need to explain it. Or talk about it. If you don't want to."
"I want to, though." He sighs, finishing off his wine in a sudden movement, then setting the glass down on the table with a clatter. "It's stupid. It's like I waited and waited and suddenly I was twenty eight and guys were asking me how much cock I'd sucked and what do I say when the answer is zero? I missed the deadline."
"There's no deadline," Jaemin says. "It's not an assignment. Maybe you never want to have sex. That's okay, too."
"But what if I do?"
The air around them feels strange — not charged, but heavy with something. A weight carried for years. A burden shared.
"It's just sex."
"You don't have to try to make me feel better, Jaemin."
"I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm just saying it's okay, you know. People make a big deal of sex but it's not like it's this mind-blowing thing all the time. It's kind of gross and weird if you think about it."
"Jaemin…"
His grip is warm, a hand extended and wrapped around his wrist. Jaemin looks up and meets his eyes and he's not sure what he sees there. Something open, maybe. Pleading. The rain patters down and Donghyuck stares — unblinking.
"Sorry," Jaemin says. He swallows, heart fluttering for a metronome beat, a rush of blood that sends warmth across his skin. "Sorry," he repeats. Donghyuck lets go of his arm.
"It's okay, just. It sucks a lot, you know. When Jeno and Chenle started dating and he used to tell us all the time about how wild he was in bed, or when Yangyang was hooking up with Kunhang I just. I was always so jealous. I wanted to tell stories. I wanted to have wild hookups. But instead I was too tired and afraid to try. Married to the job. Burning away my youth. No-one wants to fuck a thirty year old virgin." He laughs. "Well, you know how it was. I always wanted my first time to be someone special, but then I just wanted it to be someone."
"It can still be someone special," Jaemin says. Donghyuck hasn't stopped looking at him — this lightning bolt fierceness that burns in his eyes like a storm on the bruise purple horizon.
The answer is there. It's hanging around them — glittering, baubles on a tree, snowflakes in suspension. Waiting to be dropped — for either of them to acknowledge it.
Jaemin doesn't want to overstep, and yet he wonders.
"I wanted it to be someone I trusted," Donghyuck continues. He reaches for his wine glass then stops, fingers resting gently on the stem.
"It can."
He's aware of every inch between them — the space on the couch that feels like the distance between the sun and the moon, like swimming to the bottom of the ocean.
"I," Donghyuck says. Fingers closed around the stem of his glass, but it's empty. Touch delicate, holding the bones of the tiny bird Jaemin thinks has become trapped in his ribcage. "I want it to be you."
There it is. A sigh from Jaemin, a flock of doves burst from between his lips. It's like the rain around then has been falling upwards and suddenly it reverses, crashing to the ground as the wind howls outside.
"Donghyuck," he starts — but he realises there's no end to the sentence.
"I can leave if you want."
"I'm not letting you walk home in the rain. And — no. I don't want you to leave. I just…"
It's been a long time since Jaemin shared his bed with someone — longer since that he's had sex. Even longer — in his twenties, maybe — since he's had sex with someone whose name he's known. His transition into adulthood culminating with a stranger’s cum dripping from his thighs and seedy blowjobs in club bathrooms while the hangovers that crawled into his head became stronger and stronger.
There's a low ache in his chest. It's been so fucking long since he's held someone or felt a body against his — felt the warmth of skin on skin beyond hands brushing. A few days ago Renjun had placed a hand on his waist to guide him as he walked past him and Jaemin had almost broken down on the spot.
He's lonely. Not the kind of loneliness that comes from being the only person without a partner in a crowd, but something truly bone deep. Something that reminds him it’s only human to crave touch, and that Jaemin has craved it for so long he thinks if he was offered it now he might collapse.
"Are you sure?" Jaemin asks, breaking through the glass crystallising around them. Donghyuck's nails clatter where he drums them against the top of the table beside him.
"Yeah," Donghyuck says. His breath is shaky, but he looks Jaemin in the eye, cheeks high with redness. "I'm sure."
Jaemin swallows. It's so much to process. Donghyuck. It's Donghyuck, glowing in the gold light. Empty glass of wine, still in his work clothes.
"Okay," Jaemin takes a breath, mind whirling. "I should shower, then. Do you want to get some food? There's some japchae in the fridge."
"That'd be nice," Donghyuck murmurs, though he doesn't move. Neither of them do — like this is a dance and they're waiting for the music to start. Balanced on the center of a seesaw, and the shifting weight comes with thunder, a low roar like a lion in the skies.
The couch creaks. Donghyuck radiates warmth, every part of him like he's been lying in the sun for hours. A tiny internal glow, spreading across Jaemin's skin as his fingertips touch Jaemin's cheek.
Jaemin inhales sharply, lashes fluttering, but he holds Donghyuck's gaze.
A question, unspoken. Ink in the inclination of his head — cursive like the minute flutter of his lashes. Is this okay?
Jaemin answers in silence. Leaning into his touch. Breath warm against his lips. Shallow, soft. The gentlest brush.
How many boys has Donghyuck kissed?
A raindrop. The tiniest press of his mouth. The rustle of fabric as Donghyuck leans in a little closer. He says something, but Jaemin doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t think he needs to, anyway.
It’s like waking up, sunshine dawning over them. Jaemin wraps his palm around the back of Donghyuck’s neck, fingertips rubbing against the soft downy hair on his nape. He uses his other hand to cup his jaw and Donghyuck lets out a heavy breath, the kiss tinged with a reverent gentleness, as if he's afraid something will break — like this whole moment might shatter into tiny shards of glass that glitter like stars.
"It's okay," Jaemin murmurs. Ghosts of the past, swimming through the still air.
Donghyuck swipes his thumb over his skin, pressing it against the jut of his cheekbone. "I know."
It unfurls like petals in the morning, drinking in the warmth of their bodies. Slow kisses, soft breath. Jaemin shifts a little and guides Donghyuck closer, shifts so his legs are partially up on the couch and he's almost directly facing him. He leans into it, and Donghyuck follows, pressing kisses to his bottom and upper lip in turn, a gentle dart of his tongue, a gentler sigh of his heart. The rain patters down and their clothes rustle, and Jaemin feels like he's floating — all his anxiety struck through, falling into Donghyuck like he's settling into still waters, warm where it pillows around his limbs.
The answer to Jaemin's previous question is that Donghyuck has obviously kissed more than one boy. He knows how to kiss — in some manner or another — gentle and hesitant, but with more finesse than Jaemin had expected.
It's achingly slow, but Jaemin finds he enjoys it. Too many times have his kisses devolved into something furious — into bitten lips and spit smeared skin — and basking in it is something he's almost forgotten.
Most of all, Donghyuck is nice. His hands roam across Jaemin's face, one slipping down his chest, splaying across his rib cage above his thundering heartbeat, and everywhere he touches is deliberate, chipping away at the black tar hardened around his veins, making the ache in his bones a little more tolerant.
When he pulls away Jaemin feels dazed, a little short of breath, and Donghyuck gives him a smile.
"Sorry. Back was hurting."
"It's okay," Jaemin says. He lifts his hand to wipe his mouth. "That was nice."
Donghyuck's cheeks are flushed and he lets out a small noise — something between a laugh and surprise. "Thank you. Um. You should probably shower, if you want to."
"Yeah," Jaemin says, though he doesn't move. Donghyuck looks beautiful — more beautiful than Jaemin has ever really noticed. Rosy cheeks, hair flecked with raindrops, his sweater slightly ruffled where Jaemin had run his hands along it. He reaches out and straightens his collar, though when he's finished he doesn't withdraw. He keeps his grip around the fabric and tugs Donghyuck closer without really thinking, meeting him midway and threading his hand through his hair as he kisses him again.
Donghyuck inhales sharply, but he doesn't pull away. He just melts into it, fisting his hand in Jaemin's shirt and mimicking him, pulling their bodies together. He feels Donghyuck's tongue press at the seam of his lips and Jaemin doesn't even hesitate — he allows it, deepening the kiss and letting it all wash away like the first rain after a dust storm.
It gets deeper. Messier. Donghyuck's hands roam across his body and Jaemin keeps moving — he climbs up onto the couch, knocking their knees together, almost falling off but catching himself at the last second, lips still pressed to Donghyuck's as he guides him onto his back and climbs on top of him. Donghyuck grabs one of the pillows to prop up his neck and Jaemin knows it's as much of a yes as anything could ever be — enough to give him the motivation to cover his body with his and drink him in.
They're both still fully clothed but he can feel the heat radiating off Donghyuck's skin. There's whimpers rumbling in his throat and as Jaemin angles his hips down they escape — exploding like a fireworks display in his mouth, a gasp and a moan. Donghyuck's cock is hard, and when it pokes against Jaemin's leg he kisses him harder, trying to flatten their chests together and rut against him simultaneously. The couch groans and Donghyuck laughs, but it turns into a gasp, Jaemin adjusting his stance so his knees are on either side of Donghyuck's hips and he can grind against him, hands fisted in his hair.
"Fuck," Donghyuck says, hands scrambling at Jaemin's back, dipping down low to untuck his shirt from his waistband. The cool air on his skin is a shock, but Jaemin doesn't mind — not when Donghyuck is touching him, palm splayed against the small of his back, rucking his shirt up to expose more and more of his bare skin. "Fuck," he repeats. "Holy fuck, Jaemin."
"You okay?"
"God. Yeah. More than okay."
Jaemin chuckles. "Alright." He presses a kiss to Donghyuck's lips, and a thought sparks through his brain — something like a camera flash of brightness, illuminating all his secrets. "Hey, Hyuck," he says, and Donghyuck's eyes flash. Thunder, rolling storms, the shatter of waves against the teeth of the rocks.
"What?"
Jaemin lets his hand drop from his face and props himself up. He walks his hand down Donghyuck’s side, and he feels his breath hitch in his ribcage.
“Jaemin.” Donghyuck breathes out his name like it’s a prayer, and Jaemin drops a kiss on his jaw.
“It’s okay,” Jaemin says. Pushing his shirt up, splaying his palm against his stomach. Donghyuck’s muscles tighten and Jaemin coos at him, pressing another kiss to his jaw, nuzzling along the ridge of the bone, murmuring into his skin. “I’ll take care of you, okay?”
“Jaemin.” Again, hips twitching where Jaemin fiddles with his waistband, slipping a finger underneath to rest against his hip. His breath is shallow and rapid and it sends sparks cascading through Jaemin’s mouth — a burning want that corkscrews through his veins. It’s like his blood is alive, every part of him opening up, heartbeat a chorus, wet press of his lips against Donghyuck’s jaw the song of a finely tuned instrument. “If I come here…”
Jaemin thumbs at the button of his slacks. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “It’s okay, we’ll get there. Let me do this, first. You’ll come too fast otherwise.” He licks up Donghyuck’s neck, sucking on the tender skin and revelling in the way Donghyuck’s hips push up into him. “I want you to last,” he says, soft.
The noise Donghyuck makes is wrecked — desperate, fingers clawing at his back, throat bared as Jaemin kisses down the column of his neck. “Oh god,” he gasps. “Please, please. Jaemin, please.”
Jaemin is never one to deny — not when someone is like this, anyway. Not when Donghyuck has been so gentle with him, so brave. Not when he’s given him his heart in his palms and allowed Jaemin to tuck it into his ribcage to beat beside his own.
And it’s true. Donghyuck wants him — he wants him to be his first. Jaemin wants him to remember it — to know how special he is. He doesn’t want him to come in five seconds flat. He wants to savour this, let it drip all over him. He wants to cover Donghyuck up and let him know how adored he is — how good it can feel to have someone.
He shouldn’t be afraid. He shouldn’t be scared.
Jaemin unbuttons Donghyuck’s slacks and grazes the heel of his palm against his cock, checking his reaction as he does so.
It’s instant — showy, almost. Donghyuck’s eyes screw shut and he gasps, head falling back, lip caught between his teeth. His hips press up and Jaemin draws his fingers down his length, feeling out the shape of him through his underwear.
“Jaemin,” he gasps, again. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
“It’s about to get a lot better,” Jaemin says with a laugh. The couch creaks as he readjusts, and when he sits back on his haunches he can’t help but gasp a little — because fuck, Donghyuck looks gorgeous beneath him. Crumpled collar, hair fanning out like a halo, red lips, red cheeks, red shape of Jaemin’s mouth fading on his neck. His collar bones stand out beneath his skin, dotted with flecks of moles, and as Jaemin watches him he can’t help but lean up to touch them, revelling — again — in how responsive Donghyuck is.
“I just—” Donghyuck starts. “Fuck. Touch me, please.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Jaemin says. He climbs off Donghyuck, legs shaking, and pulls him to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before dropping to his knees almost immediately. The rug is plush between his toes and as he presses a kiss to Donghyuck’s cock his hands fly up to cup his face, angling his head up so Donghyuck can look him in the eyes.
Thunder roars outside and a siren sounds far in the distance, signs of the world moving around them, reminders that this is not a dream. This is not a special bubble — not something to be forgotten. It’s real and true, and in the morning they’ll wake and still be here. They’ll still remember each other’s touch.
Donghyuck’s dark gaze pierces through him, and Jaemin brushes his lips against his cock again, feeling his fingers tighten against his cheekbones.
“Has anyone ever sucked your cock before?” Jaemin murmurs.
Donghyuck shakes his head — the soft strands of his hair barely shifting with how minute the gesture is. In reply Jaemin just breathes — a soft puff of air that ghosts across the damp patch at the front of Donghyuck’s underwear — and opens his mouth to map out the shape of him.
“I’ll take care of you,” he says, tracing the outline of Donghyuck’s erection with the tip of his tongue. Wetting the fabric and breathing him in.
He takes it slow. As slow as he possibly could, and then some. Tugging down Donghyuck’s slacks until they pool on the floor at his feet. Unbuttoning the bottom of his shirt and spreading his fingers wide, feeling the shape of his soft stomach. Once upon a time they’d hit the gym together — back when they’d both graduated from college and life hadn’t started to grind them down — but now it’s only Jaemin and the businessmen who see their wives an hour a day on the treadmills at five am.
Better for Donghyuck, maybe.
He kisses up his stomach, nipping, slipping his palms under his waistband and smoothing them over the curve of his ass. Digging his fingers into the meat of his muscle and enjoying the sounds Donghyuck makes — whimpers and pleading whines, his hands tightening in his hair, his breath harsh and shallow.
“So good,” Jaemin says. He dips his head lower, nosing across the waistband of Donghyuck’s boxers again, biting back a chuckle as his hips twitch forward. Moving his hands around, thumbs pressed into his skin, he hooks his fingers into his waistband and stares up at Donghyuck, tugging gently at the fabric. “Okay?’ he asks.
“Please.”
Donghyuck’s boxers hit the floor with a soft thud, and as he steps out of them his cock bobs — causing Jaemin to salivate.
Fuck. It’s been so fucking long. Not only has it been so fucking long it’s Donghyuck that’s here with him — all his beautiful skin, muscles of his thighs standing out, cock deep red and shiny with precum.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jaemin says. He takes Donghyuck in his hand — feels out the thickness of him, thumbs at the head and licks the precum leaking from the tip. He’s not particularly large — average, really — but he’s hot and heavy in his hand, and as Jaemin takes him into his mouth Donghyuck lets out a groan, something that almost sounds like it could be relief, warped with arousal and want.
“Oh fuck,” he says. “Oh fuck, holy shit Jaemin.”
Jaemin hums, working his tongue at the head of his cock, cupping his balls with one hand and rolling them between his fingers, working at the base of his cock with the other, letting Donghyuck thrust into his mouth with barely contained movements.
“You feel so fucking good,” Donghyuck says, twisting his hands in his hair, and it spurs Jaemin on.
He bobs his head and takes more of him into his mouth, cradling his balls and feeling the heat of them in his palm. Donghyuck lets out another wet moan, hips stuttering forward, and Jaemin continues, working at him, stroking him, staring up at him through his lashes and revelling in the sight of him falling apart. His fingers tug at his hair and he lets out more noises — wrecked and wanton, so utterly free.
“Jaemin.” Scalp burning, head thrown back, long line of his throat exposed. “Oh god, Jaemin. I’m gonna. I’m gonna…”
Donghyuck lets loose, his cock pulsing in Jaemin’s mouth, muscles of his thighs going tense as he spills in his mouth. Jaemin sucks him through it, keeping his eyes on him, watching the in and out flutter of his chest as he gasps, near sobbing, one last spurt dribbling out over Jaemin’s lips as his cock slips from his mouth and he collapses backwards onto the couch. Jaemin wipes it away with the back of his hand and climbs to his feet, trying not to shudder at the press of his cock against the inside of his pants.
“Holy fuck,” Donghyuck says. Jaemin doesn’t answer — he just climbs into his lap and kisses him, licking into his mouth, enjoying the lazy glow radiating from him.
He’s missed this. He’s missed it so much. The warmth of another body, the taste of someone else’s lips. The feeling of having someone come in his mouth, of drinking them down. The gasps, the noises — all that, and it’s without him considering that it’s Donghyuck. Donghyuck gasping into his mouth, Donghyuck fisting the fabric of his shirt in his hands and tugging him closer, the taste of his cum still on Jaemin’s tongue.
“Holy fuck,” Donghyuck repeats, and Jaemin pulls back, grinning.
“Good?” he asks.
“What the fuck, Jaemin,” Donghyuck says, voice slurring slightly. “That was incredible.”
Jaemin leans down and presses a kiss to his lips, before standing up again. It’s hammering down outside now — not just the gentle patter it had been when they got home but a true storm, something that will doubtless cause the river to flood and half the city to back up.
“Go make yourself some food. I’ll shower, then you can, okay?”
Donghyuck looks dazed — eyes barely focused, lips kiss bitten and pink, his cheeks flushed high with redness and a sweet sheen of sweat on his skin. Glowing, in some way or another. “Okay,” he mumbles, though he makes no sign of moving.
Jaemin can’t resist him. He leans down — again — and cups his jaw and kisses him, long and sweet, their breath mingling, kisses pressed to his bottom lip, slipping his tongue into Donghyuck’s mouth and drinking in the moan that vibrates through him.
“C’mon,” Jaemin says. He pats Donghyuck’s cheek and gives him a smile, and Donghyuck returns it. “I’ll be back soon.”
This time, after Jaemin has showered and Donghyuck has eaten, they stand in Jaemin’s bedroom together. Donghyuck has shed his sweater, down to just his slacks and his button up, and there’s a gentleness to him that Jaemin can’t quite place, something soft polished by their years together.
Still the boy he’d known in university, just older. More tired. The soft glow of his cheeks and his round nose, his wide eyes sparkling ever so slightly. Pink lips. They look at each other and no words pass between them, just something that swirls in the air. They’ve crossed a line, and they can’t go back.
“What should I do?” Donghyuck asks. He lifts his hands, then drops them at his side again. “Jaemin?”
“Do you want me to lead you?” Jaemin asks. He slips his hands under Donghyuck’s, tips of his fingers resting on Donghyuck’s wrists, heel of his hand against his palms. Stroking back and forth, just waiting.
Donghyuck nods, small. “Yeah. Please.”
“Okay,” Jaemin says. He lifts Donghyuck’s hands up and takes a step closer, setting them on his hips. As if on instinct Donghyuck shifts, sliding his hands around slightly, dragging the soft fabric of the undershirt Jaemin had put on. “Okay,” he repeats, though he thinks it almost might be for his own benefit more than anything. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I want you to kiss me,” Donghyuck says.
Jaemin wraps his hand around the back of his neck and does just that.
It’s gentle — again. They’ve already kissed, it’s nothing new. This time Jaemin knows what to expect, he knows what Donghyuck’s lips feel like, and yet it’s still like a revelation. The rain falls outside the window and Jaemin strokes his fingers along the soft hair at the nape of Donghyuck’s neck, sighing against him.
There’s a gentle pressure at the edge of his ribcage. Something fuzzy and blurred, something he doesn’t quite want to examine. All he knows is that Donghyuck is allowing him something so precious and gentle, and the fact that he trusts him that much — the fact that he has laid his heart bare without a trace of bravado — god, it's almost unbearable.
He runs his hand through Donghyuck’s hair and Donghyuck slips a hand under his shirt, hesitantly mapping out his waist — moving around to his back and brushing his fingers back and forth against the bare skin.
"You're so warm," Donghyuck says, words wet where his breath skitters across Jaemin's lips. "Wow."
"Is that a bad thing?" Jaemin asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of Donghyuck's mouth.
"No. Just unexpected."
Jaemin hums, going back to kissing Donghyuck again, letting him explore patiently. His fingers smooth back and forth across his back, resting on the curve of his spine, then coming around to his front, feeling out his stomach then smoothing upwards, hesitant, shaky.
"It's okay," Jaemin says, when he catches Donghyuck's nervousness. "You can touch wherever you want."
He pushes a little higher, lifting Jaemin's shirt up a little more. "Can I take this off?" he asks.
Jaemin nods and lifts his arms up, and just like that Donghyuck divests him of his shirt. Just like that he's shirtless, and Donghyuck is smoothing his palms across the planes of his chest — feeling out his muscles, fitting his fingers against his ribs.
"Feels different like this," Donghyuck says. "I mean, seeing you shirtless. Not like the locker rooms at the gym, or anything."
"I know," Jaemin says. He feels it too. A crackle through the air, running in time with the rainfall outside. Something like lightning, sparking across their skin. Donghyuck runs his hands up and down Jaemin's chest, taking a breath before he brushes his fingers against the bud of his nipple, and Jaemin can't help but moan.
"Oh," Donghyuck says. He looks up at Jaemin and does it again, stroking back and forth with the pad of his index finger, so light it's almost torturous. "Does that feel good?"
"Yeah," Jaemin says. Donghyuck's smile turns wicked and he rolls Jaemin's nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying pressure, teasing, his other hand splayed across Jaemin's stomach.
Jaemin curses, his grip on Donghyuck's hair tightening, his muscles drawing up as he gasps into his touch.
"You're sensitive," Donghyuck says, and normally Jaemin would make a biting remark — because it's an obvious statement — but he swallows it here. He can't help it. There's something special about having Donghyuck's hands on him. Something wondrous about the way he touches him; gentle, curious, yet edged with that vicious bite that's always been present one way or another. That drive, that need, that fire that Jaemin has always loved about him. He's brimming with want, and it sparks along everything.
"Yeah," Jaemin breathes out. "I've — I've almost come just from my nipples being teased before," he says.
Donghyuck's eyes go wide and stares at him, dark lust swirling in the depth of his gaze. "Really?"
Jaemin whines as Donghyuck slides his other hand up and brushes it against his nipple. "Really."
Donghyuck kisses him again, and this time it's with a kick. With this tongue swiping across the seam of his lips, fingers still teasing at his nipples. Jaemin gasps into his mouth and grips at him, his body bucking towards him, twisting and turning as sparks of pleasure shoot through his body, tingles that go straight down to his crotch.
They stay like that for a while, Jaemin's whines getting more frequent, until Donghyuck lets go of his nipples and goes back to mapping out his stomach. He's still kissing him, his tongue in this mouth, the wet slide of their lips audible, and Jaemin feels the warmth of arousal all through his body — the undeniable spark deep in his gut that comes only from human contact. From being wanted.
He wants this. He wants Donghyuck.
And Donghyuck...
Donghyuck walks the two of them backwards until they're beside the bed — breaking the kiss to kiss down Jaemin's neck, moving down his chest, hands running everywhere, kissing across his pectorals, licking at his abs, fingers smoothing on his waist.
"You really still have the same body you had when we were in uni, huh?" Donghyuck says, the words vibrating against his skin.
“I work hard for this body,” Jaemin says.
“It’s a good body,” Donghyuck says. He presses a kiss to Jaemin’s abs one last time and then trails his tongue down, until he’s level with his crotch — staring straight at where he’s straining in his pajama pants. He reaches out and presses a hesitant hand against Jaemin’s cock and Jaemin tries not to whimper, the noise coming out strained. Donghyuck’s eyes flick up to him and he looks so insanely good Jaemin doesn’t know how to feel about all of this.
“Can I touch you?” Donghyuck asks.
Jaemin sucks in a breath, everything sharp as a knife.
Donghyuck wants to touch his cock.
Donghyuck wants him to be his first.
Donghyuck is on his knees for him, staring up at him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Of course," Jaemin says. He reaches down and runs a hand through Donghyuck's hair, and Donghyuck leans into it, eyelashes fluttering. "You can do what you want. Whatever you want.”
Donghyuck nods, his eyes open again, everything about it painfully soft. “I don’t know if I want to suck it,” he says, pushing down both Jaemin’s pants and boxers at the same time. “But I want to touch.”
“You don’t have to suck it. This is about you, Donghyuck.”
“Well make it about me and shut up, then,” Donghyuck says, laughing as he gives Jaemin’s pants a tug, the mood in the room shifting again. "I don't want you babbling when I give you a handjob."
Jaemin helps Donghyuck rids him of his pants, and then the warm air hits his cock, and he feels an ache at the sheer sight of Donghyuck regarding him — his eyes going wide, hand reaching out.
“Oh my god,” Donghyuck says. He brushes his fingers against the shaft, experimental. "Woah."
Jaemin just waits. He doesn't push, he doesn't urge Donghyuck on. He just watches him — bites his lip and holds his whimper as Donghyuck brings both his hands up, cupping Jaemin's balls with one hand and tracing his finger along his length with the other.
"It's—" Donghyuck's throat bobs as he swallows, and he thumbs at the head of Jaemin's dick, swiping up the precum leaking heavily from the head and then giving him a grin. "You're pretty hard, huh?"
"Shut up," Jaemin says, cheeks already burning. "It's been a long time."
"A long time since someone's done this?" Donghyuck asks, and he closes his hand around Jaemin's cock, gripping at him and stroking slowly, looking up at Jaemin expectantly.
"Yes," Jaemin gasps. "Fuck, Hyuck..."
He’s still smiling, batting his eyelashes at Jaemin as he looks up. "I wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel."
"You don't have to," Jaemin says. "It's not about me, remember."
"Mmm," Donghyuck says, and he leans in, inhaling, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. "But I want to."
"Fuck," Jaemin pants. Good god. Objectively there is absolutely nothing special about the agonisingly slow hand job Donghyuck is currently giving him, but Jaemin still feels like he's about to explode. It's like he can feel all their years together — the confidence Donghyuck has placed in him — feel it radiating out from. "I have a lot of experience," Jaemin tries, "but you don't. You're not going to be a sex god your first time. But I can tell you how I like it, if you want?"
"You should show me," Donghyuck says, and his lips are so close to Jaemin's cock Jaemin feels like he's about to fucking pass out — all his blood has long gone south and he's practically dizzy with how shallow his breaths are.
"Like...?" Jaemin trails off, not willing to voice it.
And then Donghyuck leans in and presses a kiss to the shaft of Jaemin's cock, fingers stroking back and forth across his balls. "I want to see how you touch yourself."
Jaemin moans — unbridled, loose, some part of him breaking at the way the low tone of Donghyuck's voice sounds so close to his cock. At the thought of Donghyuck watching him as he touched himself. "Now?" he asks, and it's choked.
"Yeah," Donghyuck says, and the sultriness is lost a little — he's back to normal, moment of confidence gone.
"I don't mean to alarm you, Hyuck, but I'm seriously worried about my stamina," Jaemin says, and it's the truth — because Donghyuck is fucking hot. Because he's still stroking his cock and Jaemin knows he won't come like this, but he knows he could. Just the thought of it is like white lightning.
"What?" Donghyuck asks, eyes wild, and he stops stroking him.
"I seriously don't know if I can take you watching me jerk off and not be allowed to come afterwards."
"Oh," Donghyuck says. He swallows, throat bobbing. "Oh. Do you... what do you want me to do then?"
Jaemin cups his jaw and tilts it up, and the look in Donghyuck's eyes is so unbearably gentle he wants to sob. Unbridled trust, curled amongst the molten ends of desire — a want that burns through the two of them. Some kind of circuit they've closed through their touch, and Jaemin is struck with an unbearable need to hold Donghyuck against him — feel the warmth of his skin and the slide of his lips.
It's been too long. Dangerously long if Jaemin's to be honest, and at the thought he feels something wet in his throat — a perpetual ache he's simply grown used to.
"Do you..." he swallows. "Can we kiss? Just for a bit?"
And Donghyuck nods. He lets go of Jaemin and stands up, smoothing his hands down the plane of his chest before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his mouth, soft, slow.
"Like this?" he asks, breath hot against his lips.
"Yeah," Jaemin says, shuddering. "Yeah." He leans in and presses another kiss to his mouth, winding a hand around the back of his neck. "Do you want to take your shirt off?"
Donghyuck presses another kiss to his lips and then pulls back, locking eyes with Jaemin for a second before nodding. "Okay," he says.
He takes a step back and Jaemin sits down on the bed, lump in his throat, sure that he wouldn't be able to tear his eyes from Donghyuck even if he wanted to. The slow progression of his fingers on the buttons of his shirt, undoing it and slipping it from his shoulders — letting it drop to the floor.
Jaemin sucks in a breath, and Donghyuck's hands linger on the waist of his slacks, his eyes staring at the floor.
"I don't know why I'm nervous," he mumbles. "You just sucked my cock."
"It's okay," Jaemin says. "You're beautiful, Donghyuck. You don't have to be shy."
It's not a lie — not something to placate him. Donghyuck is genuinely gorgeous. His waist curving and soft, tan skin dotted with moles, small dark nipples, the tiniest smattering of hair leading down into his waistband. He blushes at the praise and turns his face away, unbuttoning his slacks and then pausing.
"I just—" he starts, and then he looks up at Jaemin, locking eyes with him then looking down, gaze resting at where Jaemin's cock is rock hard between his legs. It sends a jolt of heat through his stomach, and Jaemin swallows, fisting his hands in the bedsheets, the want that courses through him near unbearable.
"It's okay," Jaemin says, and he doesn't get a chance to say much else.
Donghyuck undoes his pants and drops them, not even giving Jaemin a chance to take him in before he's in his lap again, bare ass on his thighs, his cock rubbing against his stomach as he kisses him.
And that's it. That's where everything unravels. Jaemin clutches at Donghyuck's back and kisses him back, and it's like everything falls apart. He can't hold himself back anymore — he's afraid he needs this as much as Donghyuck does. His skin is warm and his kisses are wet and Jaemin shuts his eyes and melts into it. Donghyuck's tongue in his mouth, Donghyuck's hands on his biceps, his body heat like a furnace.
Jaemin breaks away to kiss across his face and as if by instinct Donghyuck tips his head back, allowing him access to his neck, allowing Jaemin to kiss down, holding him up with his palm on his back, smoothing his other hand down his spine to rest on the bare curve of his ass.
"Is this okay?" Jaemin asks, lips held against Donghyuck's throat, and Donghyuck shivers.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. I—" he stutters, moaning slightly when Jaemin presses the flat of his tongue to his skin, licking up the column of his neck and squeezing at his ass in tandem. "God, Jaemin. I—I think I..."
He moves his hand so his fingers are resting in the cleft of Donghyuck's ass. "Yeah?" Jaemin asks, and Donghyuck's breath is rapid and ragged, his head tipped backwards, hips rocking forward in minute motion.
"I'm ready," he says. Soft, almost drowned out by the rainfall outside. Lights breaking through the curtains, and Jaemin pulls back, grip steady, staring up at him — at this beautiful, beautiful man. His best friend, through thick and thin. Vulnerability barely contained within, his chest rising and falling.
"You sure?"
Donghyuck nods. "Absolutely." He cups Jaemin's jaw with his hand and presses a kiss to his lips. "More sure than I've ever been. It scares me, almost."
"You don't need to be afraid," Jaemin says against his lips, brushing his fingers up and down the cleft of Donghyuck's ass, grazing ever so lightly against his hole and listening for the sharp hiss he receives in reaction.
"I know. I trust you."
When Jaemin comes back with the lube Donghyuck is lying on his back, propped up on the pillows and jerking lazily at his cock. He stares at Jaemin, still touching himself, and the sight of him is so fucking gorgeous that Jaemin has to stop in his tracks because: did Donghyuck always look like this? Was he always this gorgeous? Deep flush on his chest, on his cheeks, eyes dark in the soft glow of Jaemin's bedroom lighting.
He's never thought of Donghyuck like this, and yet…
(He purges the thought from his mind. This is just for them. Only for them.)
He kneels on the bed, crawling beside Donghyuck and pressing a kiss to his lips, reaching down to cover his hand with his own and give his cock a few pumps.
"Have you ever had anything up your ass before?" he asks, and Donghyuck nods.
"I've used a few toys."
He won't make eye contact, and it's endearing in a way — all that bluster turned into bashfulness. Jaemin has always known Donghyuck is gentle at heart, but seeing him blush and mumble even as he's naked is something else.
"Recently?"
"No."
"Okay," Jaemin says. He uncaps the lube. "Do you want me to prep you, or do you want to do it? It's probably easier if I do."
“I want you,” Donghyuck says, and he kisses him again — slow, open mouthed, breath hot, completely and utterly addictive. “Want you to do it.”
When Jaemin settles between Donghyuck's legs he thinks he might be, somehow, more nervous than Donghyuck is. There is something unbearable in the air — something unspoken and fragile, like they’re redrawing every line they’d ever sketched. Reworking their barriers and making something new.
Though Donghyuck — god. Jaemin is still in that state of not being able to stare at him for too long, because he still cannot get over how Donghyuck looks. The willingness in his eyes, the way his gaze flicks around but always returns back to Jaemin's face. How gorgeous he is, all the lines of his body, the way his cock looks — shiny with precum and erect between his legs.
"Jaemin," Donghyuck says, as Jaemin rubs his hand against the inside of his thigh.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you, by the way. For doing this. I know it’s a lot, but it means so much to me."
"Thank you for trusting me," Jaemin says. The lube is cool on his fingers. "I'll make it good for you, okay?"
Donghyuck nods, hissing as Jaemin rubs his fingers against his hole. "I'm glad it's you, Jaemin."
The first finger goes in easy — Donghyuck relaxing after Jaemin tells him to breathe — and he moves with ease, fucking in and out, just allowing Donghyuck to get used to it.
“How’s that?” he asks, and Donghyuck nods.
“Feels good,” he says, gripping loosely at his cock. “God, this is really happening, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Jaemin confirms, continuing the slow pace, wetting his lips as he stares at the way Donghyuck’s hand looks jerking at his own cock, the wet slide of his palm audible in the still air.
“Never thought it’d be like this,” he says.
“Never thought it’d be me?”
“I don’t know who I thought it would be,” Donghyuck says, after hesitating for a second.
There’s a pause, heavy, and lightning flashes, Jaemin leaning in to press a kiss against Donghyuck’s knee. “Well I’m here now,” he says. “I’m gonna add another finger, okay? Tell me if it’s okay. Or tell me if you want more, after.”
The progression is slow — Jaemin picking up pace only when he has three fingers inside Donghyuck, squelch of his hand mingling with both their panting.
“Fuck,” Donghyuck says, clenching down around him. He’s not touching himself anymore — he has one hand covering Jaemin’s where it sits on the junction of his hip, and the other fisted in the sheets — and his eyes are screwed shut, lips parted. “Oh fuck, Jaemin. That feels so fucking good.”
“Just you wait,” Jaemin says, and he scatters kisses across the inside of his thigh, picking up the pace and fucking into Donghyuck. “Just you wait until my cock is inside of you.”
Donghyuck moans — full chested, wet and loud. “I want it,” he says. “Please. God, this is unbearable.”
“Soon,” Jaemin says. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m ready,” Donghyuck says, and as if to emphasise it he clenches around Jaemin’s fingers again, hips working against him. “Please, Min.”
He hasn’t heard that nickname for years — it slams him right back to being twenty, the two of them sitting in Jaemin’s tiny dorm room as they played video games together, shoulder to shoulder, window cracked to try to cycle out the humid air. Jaemin didn’t even like games, but Donghyuck did, and he’d always been happy to indulge him.
“Trust me,” Jaemin says. “It’ll feel bigger when it’s inside you.”
“Fuck,” Donghyuck says, his voice pitched up. “Hurry up then.”
Jaemin obliges. Slipping a fourth finger in, spreading him open, staring down at how he Donghyuck looks stretched out around his hand. Jaemin fucks him — less gentle, more firm — and Donghyuck’s body arches up, hips moving in rhythm with his hand, until he’s panting, skin shiny with lube, begging Jaemin for his cock in a way Jaemin is pretty sure no sane human being would be able to resist.
He sounds wrecked, broken, panting, voice pitchy, and Jaemin knows in that moment he will never forget the sound of this. He will never forget what it felt like to have Donghyuck want him this much — to tell him how badly he needs his cock inside of him.
It’s something special to have, and Jaemin treasures it. He withdraws his hand, picking up the condom he’d thrown onto the bed sheet and tearing open the wrapper. When he glances up Donghyuck is watching him, and the intensity of his gaze knocks all other thoughts from his mind — turns it blank and replaces it only with him. His heart pounds against his ribcage, and he feels something bubble up in him — bursting when Donghyuck lets out a soft laugh.
“Fuck, Jaemin,” Donghyuck says. “You’re so hot.”
“You’re not too bad yourself,” Jaemin says, and he gives him a smile — one that’s returned twofold.
“Fuck me then,” he says, and it’s sure. It’s so sure.
“This way?” Jaemin asks. “On your back?”
Donghyuck nods. “I want to kiss you,” he says, and that sends Jaemin’s heart skittering.
Thud, thud, thud. Breath short, rolling the condom on with shaky hands. Covering Donghyuck’s body with his and pressing a kiss to his lips, deepening it, everything sliding together.
He pulls back and meets Donghyuck’s eyes, and there’s something fierce there. Something so open it nearly breaks Jaemin.
I want it to be you.
How beautiful it is to be so trusted by someone so dear to you. How beautiful it is to hold something so delicate in your hands, to tuck it tight within you and shield it from harm.
“Are you ready?” Jaemin asks, and Donghyuck nods.
“Yes,” he says. “I want you. I want you to fuck me, Jaemin.”
It’s like swallowing lightning. It lights him up from inside, exposing every part of him. Jaemin thumbs at Donghyuck’s ass one more time, slipping a finger inside then withdrawing, then he grips his cock and lines himself up.
At the press of the head of his cock against Donghyuck’s hole Donghyuck begins to breathe rapidly, and Jaemin presses a kiss to his lips, chaste, and murmurs at him to breathe. Big breaths. Relax.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says.
“It won’t be,” Donghyuck says. His pupils are blown wide, and his entire face is flushed, lips shiny with spit, sweat beading on his forehead. He looks beautiful.
Jaemin takes a breath, and then he pushes in.
Donghyuck whimpers. High pitched, head thrown back, eyelashes fluttering, and Jaemin can understand, because there’s something he can’t even describe about the moment; something he hasn’t felt in so long it’s like it’s become an echo. An impression that was once brilliant white, and it all comes surging back as he sinks into Donghyuck’s heat, hands gripping at his hips, easing his cock in as gentle as can be.
“Holy fuck,” Donghyuck says. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Jaemin. Fucking fuck fuck. You feel so good what the fuck.”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
“No,” Donghyuck says, and he moans. “No, not really. It’s just — fuck that feels so fucking big.”
“Told you it would,” Jaemin says, and he leans over him, rolling his hips slightly, pressing their lips together and making no effort to keep the kiss controlled. Donghyuck is unbearably tight — unbearably fucking hot — and every slide of his cock inside of him sends sparks up his throat.
“No, it’s like…” he starts, and then he just gives up and moans, clenching down absolutely vice fucking tight around Jaemin, his hands coming up to clutch at his back. “Oh, fuck.”
Jaemin doesn’t try to tease the answer out of him. He just flattens his body against Donghyuck’s, and thrusts into him, small, sure, kisses slow and languid. Pouring all his want into it and receiving warmth in return.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, and Donghyuck presses up against him, slipping a hand between their bodies to wrap around his cock.
“You do too,” he says. "Jaemin, oh my god.”
It’s like nothing before. Nothing he could have ever imagined. Donghyuck is warm and vocal and he pants against him, tiny moans punched out of him with each thrust of Jaemin’s cock, his body rolling against his. His kisses carry an edge of desperation and Jaemin feels near drunk on it; dizzy, head light, every part of him filled with the thought of Donghyuck.
Donghyuck cards a hand through his hair and Jaemin fucks him in deep strokes, relishing the noises he pulls from his throat. He wants to sink into Donghyuck; wants to make him feel good, to hear him moan and lose control.
“You’re so hot,” Jaemin says, words ragged, hips snapping into Donghyuck, their bodies entwined. “You feel so fucking good, Hyuck. Feel so good on my cock.”
Donghyuck lets out a gasp and holds him close, the pace of his hand between them quickening. Tooth and claw, mouths sliding together, and everything starts to fall away. Jaemin picks up the pace and Donghyuck pants, asking him for more.
“You close?” Jaemin asks. He’s fucking into him hard at this point, and Donghyuck can barely kiss him — he’s just taking it, moaning and whining, his hands clutching at Jaemin’s back.
“Yeah,” he says, and it’s croaky and wrecked, broken as Jaemin punches into him on his next thrust, slowing down for a few seconds before fucking into him rapidly again. “Oh my god. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m so close, Jaemin. So fucking close. Your cock feels so fucking good.”
Jaemin kisses his jaw, his chin, across his cheek, capturing his lips again and cradling his face in his hands. He pulls back and stares into Donghyuck’s eyes, and Donghyuck meets him; eyes liquid black, heat radiating out from him.
“Come for me?” Jaemin asks, and Donghyuck nods. The hand wrapped around his cock moves rapidly between them, and he clenches down tight around Jaemin, still holding his gaze even as his mouth falls open and he moans.
“Jaemin,” he says. “Jaemin. Shit. Fuck. Fuck you feel good, fuck your cock feels so fucking good—”
It comes punched out of him — eyes screwed shut as Jaemin presses kisses all over his face, pistoning into him and chasing his own pleasure as Donghyuck spills all over his stomach, wet and hot, moaning his name in a way that absolutely lights Jaemin up, slamming into him like a tidal wave.
He comes so hard he swears he sees stars — shaking, holding Donghyuck tight, everything falling away into the white light and roar in his ears. Everything falling away into the press of their bodies together, and as he fucks himself through it Donghyuck’s lips are on his, and he never wants to let go.
“Well,” Donghyuck says. “That really happened, didn’t it?” The lights are off and the room is near pitch black, the two of them lying side by side on the bed, Jaemin resting his head on Donghyuck’s chest and listening to his heartbeat.
After they were done Jaemin had cleaned the both of them up, and at present Donghyuck is wearing his clothes, the scent of his laundry powder somehow smelling a million times better on someone else. The rain still lashes at the side of the building and the thunder still booms, but it doesn’t bother Jaemin. It just makes him feel safe, wrapped up the warmth of his bed with someone so dear to him in his arms.
“Yes,” Jaemin says. “It definitely happened. Was it good for you? Everything you expected?”
“It was wonderful,” Donghyuck says. “Better than I could have hoped for.” He’s stroking Jaemin’s hair, slow and lazy, and it’s so achingly intimate that Jaemin feels like he’s about to break down. “I’m really glad it was you.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Donghyuck presses a kiss to the crown of his head, lips lingering for a second before he answers. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s what friends are for.”
Jaemin presses a kiss to his sternum, just the lightest brush of his lips, his eyes drooping. He’s exhausted, soaked in warmth, bone deep in his peace, and he feels it wash through him, even as Donghyuck fiddles with his hair.
“Go to sleep, Hyuckie,” Jaemin says.
Thunder rolls and the rain falls down. Donghyuck’s hand tightens and his lips brush Jaemin’s forehead, pressing kiss after kiss against his skin, until he sighs.
“Fine, but you’re gonna have to move,” he says. “I can’t sleep with you on my chest.”
“You’re so lame,” Jaemin says, but he knows Donghyuck has a point. “You’re big spoon, then.”
“You say that like it’s a problem for me. Move your ass.”
Jaemin laughs and rolls over onto his side. Donghyuck flattens himself against his back, his body heat like a furnace, hands coming up to clutch at Jaemin’s bare chest, forehead resting against the nape of his neck.
“Is this good, your highness?” Donghyuck asks, and Jaemin laughs, lifting up one of Donghyuck’s hands to kiss at his knuckles.
“Perfect,” he says.
They fall into silence again, only the white noise of the rainfall and the rush of their breath filling the air. Donghyuck shifts a little and presses a kiss to Jaemin’s neck, and Jaemin hums, letting it all settle into his bones. Drinking in the intimacy of the moment, eroding the rocky parts of his heart.
“Jaemin,” Donghyuck says, quiet.
“Yeah?”
“Does this change anything?”
Jaemin squeezes Donghyuck’s hands and tangles their legs together. “No,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”
Donghyuck takes a deep breath and strokes his thumb against Jaemin’s hand, their bodies moulded perfectly together. “Okay,” he says, and then: “Thank you so much.”