Pseudologia Fantastica, or Something along Those Lines
Title: Pseudologia Fantastica, or Something along Those Lines
Length: Oneshot
Pairings: Sehun/Jongin, minor Kyungsoo/Jongin, OCs/Jongin
Rating: NC-17
Genre: psychological, smut, angst, romance (?)
Warnings: adult content, promiscuity, derogatory words, character death (somewhat emotionally removed and not explicit)
Summary: Jongin is a nympho with a bad habit and Sehun doesn't really know what to do about that, but he fucks Jongin a lot, and it's painful.
Jongin gets shot on a Friday afternoon at 6PM by a kid with a stolen Bersa while heading home from passing out flyers all day for Subway sandwiches. His advertisement placard hangs lopsidedly from his neck, forehead sweaty and one shoe unlaced, and the boy shoots him two times in the back of his head before sprinting away after like he's dodging timber up the pine woods after illegal felling.
Nobody is there to see it, but it's not exactly a woeful happening, so it doesn't really matter.
*
Sehun knows Jongin is walking on thin ice and always has been; it's the undercurrent of fear that scratches at his conscience from time to time, like when he's lying in bed jerking off to some Russian porno with Yung Simmie playing in the background, his blunt fizzled out in a glass from yesterday with some unknown substance in it.
His best friend is sinking like a cargo in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, and it's Jongin's own fault, but at the same time it isn't, and it tears Sehun apart sometimes, because just stop doing it, Jongin, but also I don't even know what you're talking about, Sehun.
His door is thrown open, and in walks the boy of the hour, backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder, like he's just casually dropping by.
"Shit. Sorry," Jongin remarks as he eyes Sehun's crotch, but throws his bag down on the floor regardless, pulling his jacket off and sending it in the same direction. "Bad time?"
"It's never a bad time," Sehun says, withdrawing his Vaseline-covered hand from his weeping cock, but Jongin already knows that. Sometimes he thinks beating off is more of a hassle than it's worth. He's been tugging for half an hour already without getting anywhere.
"Alright, cool."
Jongin is fidgety today, his palms Morse-tapping his upper thighs and his feet shuffling or shaking or some other derivative of nervous movement. Sehun turns the second-rate porno off, slamming his laptop shut while pushing it to the other end of his bed and leaning back against the headboard. He doesn't bother trying to tuck himself back into his underwear, because:
"I can finish you off, if you want," Jongin offers, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole ordeal, but Sehun knows he's hard about it already. Leaking and shit. But he would be stupid if he turned him down, so:
"Yeah."
He stares at the crown of Jongin's head as the boy blows him, kneeling on the same bed as Sehun's sheets that have gone over a year without being changed. It's dirty and juvenile, but Sehun gets off easily with Jongin's plump lips wrapped around his thicker-than-average shaft, his mouth warmer than the cheap McDonald's apple pie they sometimes sell in the morning (not that he’s tried to American-pie one of those at all. Never).
"Where were you?" He asks, threading his fingers into Jongin's soft hair. It's messy, just like his clothes, and he smells of someone else's cologne wafting off of him. It makes him feel a little queasy.
"Dance practice," Jongin says quickly as he pulls off, switching to pumping Sehun with his right hand, his lips spit-slick and reddened while he talks and it’s unlawfully erotic. "Taemin and Moonkyu and I have almost got this one routine down; we just need a few more hours to perfect it. But, you know Moonkyu…he keeps insisting we go over it like a million times until our balls drop off or something, so we haven't been able to catch a break since Sunday."
Jongin has been letting Moonkyu fuck him for the past couple weeks, and Moonkyu is a considerate guy, so he definitely hasn't been pushing him to dance when being dicked makes Jongin so sore. He hasn't been dancing at all.
"You'll come see me dance, right?" Jongin asks, halting his movements. He looks hopeful, and Sehun wonders how he does it. "I mean, if I can get you tickets and all. I can't guarantee it, but I'll try."
There is no dance show, and Sehun is never getting a ticket.
He just nods, hand moving to Jongin's head again to have him finish what he started. Jongin gets the hint, and he puts more suction in it this time, fisting what of it he can't get into his mouth and closing his eyes. Sehun pushes on his head a little, only because he knows Jongin secretly likes choking on him and being manhandled, but also maybe because he's really close and Jongin's mouth ought to be abused for all the lies it tells.
He comes hard, holding Jongin's head down as he empties himself so that his nose gets pressed into the tuft of his pubic hair. He feels the gag around his member, and only lets Jongin up when he's sure there isn't a drop left to spill onto his already dirty sheets. Jongin is dirtier than his sheets, so it's better off in him.
Sehun regrets thinking it as soon as he does, and pats Jongin's cheek amicably as compensation, finally tucking himself back in his boxers. Jongin licks his lips obscenely, much like the Russian girl in his video, and Sehun tries to remember why he still lets Jongin seduce him when he'd been around the block twice and probably up an alley at some point.
Jongin reaches to undo his own belt, his fingers nimble, and Sehun quickly asks, "Do you want something to eat? I think my mom's making dinner. I'm pretty hungry."
Jongin looks up at him, almost offended, and says, "No thanks; I'm good. Stopped by Deli de Luca after practice to get some dumplings. You really ought to try them some time, you know. They're killer."
Jongin hasn't eaten. Sehun heard his stomach rumbling twice while he was sucking him off, and Deli de Luca doesn't serve dumplings. Jesus Christ.
"Alright, never mind." he shrugs, reaching for his pants on the floor, but Jongin stops him, giving him the puppy dog eyes and sticking out his bottom lip. Sehun laughs curtly as he shakes Jongin's hand off his wrist. "You're insatiable, you know that?"
Jongin smiles, knowing he has Sehun on the hook, which he clearly does, because Sehun's forgotten all about his pants already, and the hunger. Well, it’s just a different hunger now. Jongin doesn't answer, because it would be another little untruth, no matter how jokingly said, and just pulls off his t-shirt, waiting for Sehun to make a move.
Sehun doesn't mean to be so hung up on Jongin and all his bad habits, but he is, and he's hung up on his body too, because it's warm and welcoming and familiar and really fucking sexy. What’s the worst is that Jongin knows he likes him slightly more than in a friendly sort of way, but still he keeps going with everything.
"Did Moonkyu stretch you out?" Sehun asks as he goes down on him, hovering over his frame, and it's the worst possible time for him to expel some jealousy-induced word-vomit, but knowing his luck, of course he would.
And it's when Jongin is caught in one of his own unnecessary lies that he flips out.
"I'm leaving if you're gonna be like this. I can't believe you--"
"Jongin, it's alright if you fucked him. I won't judge you for anything you do. You just don't need to keep stuff from me all the time. It's not like we're dating or anything."
"I haven't fucked anyone,” Jongin huffs. “I touched myself after practice a little is all. I don't know what you're talking about."
Jongin handles being caught lying just about as well as Kanye West handled Taylor Swift winning Best Music Video back in 2009.
*
Jongin really has a thing for blondes. Okay, so he has a thing for brunettes too, and he's never been with a redhead, but he's sure he'd be into it. Green hair would be the hottest, actually. The point is that he's really into his History teacher, who has a bad bleach-job done to his long-ish 90s hair and always wears colourful shirts to class. Jongin's not really sure how old he is, but it doesn't really matter, because he's giving Jongin the bedroom eyes during class and he can do nothing but day-dream about being bent over Mr. Park's desk, pants pulled down and being spanked with the big, wooden pointer he uses to point out areas of Germany that used to hold concentration camps.
He's hard and leaking just thinking about it, and it's so bad he almost feels like crying. He just wants it so bad.
He glances around himself to make sure nobody is looking, and it seems like they're all busy listening to what Mr. Park is saying, except for Sehun, who flicks a pencil at him and points to the board, trying to get him to pay attention. He sticks his tongue out at Sehun, because he hates it when he treats him like that, like he can't do anything right, and turns to face the front in annoyance.
It's Sehun's loss in the end, because Jongin somehow ends up on his back with Mr. Park fucking him on a desk, coarse slacks grazing his ass with every thrust while he bites down on the fingers in his mouth to keep quiet. He's never been fucked so rough, and it's amazing, but he regrets it quite a bit afterwards, because he's so sore he can't even make it to watch Spiderman 2 with Sehun like they’d planned (and he actually wanted to see that one). He tells Sehun he got caught up with being tutored and lost track of time, because he did lose track of time at one point, and he was kind of tutored in the act of love-making by someone who was very overqualified to be a tutor.
*
In Sehun's opinion, for a nymphomaniac, Jongin sure has an obsession with pretending he's the Nick Jonas of sex, one purity ring away from swearing celibacy and no romping out of wedlock. And it's all really ironic, because he rides Sehun like he gets paid big bucks at the rodeo, knowing exactly how to touch himself to orgasm and just how to clench down on Sehun to drag him down the same, ill-fated path.
"Fuck, I'm so close," Jongin whines, leaning his head down on Sehun's shoulder, and Sehun knows it's time to take over. He grabs Jongin's thick ass, planting his feet steady on the floor as he leans back in the couch and begins to thrust his hips up like a machine, trying to ignore the sting of Jongin sinking his bizarrely long nails into his bicep. He grunts with every push, because Jongin isn't exactly some size-0 cocaine-addicted model, but luckily Sehun's strong enough for at least 10 people (not to brag, he's just keeping it real), and it's a good match in the end, Jongin putting up no fight while he's fucked into oblivion.
Sehun comes into the condom, pulling on Jongin's hair, and he wonders how many people have done that, but that's like wondering how many people have spat gum on the pavement at 7th Avenue without picking it up, all that shit that turns into some kind of splotchy part of the ground; little marks left by lazy people.
Jongin sinks into him more as he comes down from his high, his own come spattered between their stomachs in a lukewarm, lulling way, and Sehun likes it when Jongin gets all touchy-feely like this, placing gentle kisses on his cheeks until Sehun turns and lets him have his lips, because it reminds him that right now Jongin is his and is needy for his attention, and that's all he can ever hope for, really.
They make a pizza afterwards and eat it while doing Math homework, because Jongin says he wants to cross-check his answers with Sehun, but really he's just going to copy. Sehun lets him, staring at his beautifully concentrated face while rubbing circles into his exposed waist, his t-shirt having ridden up while he was shifting on the floor. He wonders if he should get the tomato sauce at the corner of Jongin's lips for him, licking his own at the thought of taking care of the matter with his tongue. He doesn't even know how Jongin is still rejecting his suggestive advances after his hand has slipped halfway into his underwear, but that damn Math grade must be fucking important because his best friend never turns down sex.
*
Jongin didn’t copy the right answers off of Sehun; he made sure the digits he wrote down were wrong, but wrong by only a few miscalculations, so that he doesn’t seem stupid. That way he can work himself into a serious talk with Mr. Choi about the dropping of his grades, and also somehow stealthily find a way to convince the man to let Jongin blow him.
He loves the feeling cock in his mouth, and that might sound a little obscene, but it's just like any other guilty pleasure, really. It doesn't even run the risk of death or diabetes like smoking and eating lots of candy does. It's just a little comfort.
He loves the feeling so much he'll drop to his knees for just about anyone if they ask, especially the hot jocks from football club. They're ripped and willing to do anything to get off, and it's not like they say they're bi or anything, but Jongin picks up the hint when he’s habitually invited in to their locker room for some important, post-training relaxation sessions.
*
Jongin’s working again, and Sehun chills with him on a bench next to where the boy is standing trying to pass out flyers for Subway to hurried strangers. That was basically Sehun and McDonald’s, but they fired him after he flipped off too many of their (very rude) potential customers. Jongin’s a little better with people. He has this charm about him that lures people in, and he seals the deal with this amazing smile that haunts Sehun’s dreams sometimes. Essentially, that means Sehun gets to put it on him to buy the alcohol for the Saturday party admission fee, which he doesn’t even particularly want to go to because it’s probably going to progress in the direction of Jongin telling him he has to ‘go to the bathroom’ and then never returning. Sehun will then glance around to check if there are any hot people who could try his luck with, but at the realization of nobody being as hot as Jongin it just has his dick softening and almost shriveling up, so he’ll end up going home early. Then Jongin will show up at his door the next morning, angry that Sehun left him at the party, and Sehun will shut him up with a quick pity-fuck in the back of his old BMW.
“Can you do me?”
Sehun jerks out of his semi-psychic thoughts to find Jongin looking at him nervously. “What?”
“I said can you do me a favour.”
“Oh.” Sehun thinks he should dunk his entire body in cold water for obvious reasons. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Thanks. Hand out these flyers while I head to the toilet?”
“The toilet, huh?” Sehun says, remembering Jongin going right before they left his house. “Alright.”
So, what was it this time? Jongin wanting a hand-job from his manager? Caught the eye of a particularly handsome customer? Glory-hole whore?
Sehun almost rolls his eye so hard they disappear inside his head and decides to stop trying to figure out Jongin’s real agenda to spare his stomach the upset. He accepts the flyers that Jongin pushes to him as he leaves, but he feels uneasy about Jongin going.
“Jongin, wait,” he says, racking his brain for something he can say that sounds plausible and will make him not go anywhere. He drops the flyers to the ground and groans, hunching over. He doesn’t even know how good of an actor he is, but he supposes it’s time to find out. “I’m not feeling very well.”
Jongin walks back to his side, sitting down next to him and feeling his forehead, the flyers forgotten.
“Wasn’t the burrito, was it? I’ve told you to lay off that stuff.”
Sehun cracks a grin, glad he can hold Jongin’s attention for at least a little while longer. Jongin just looks at him worriedly, leaning his head in his hand. Maybe lying is just something he’s bound to naturally pick up from Jongin sooner or later; he’s exposed to it enough. Adaptation and all that.
“Don’t know what it is…I’m feeling kinda dizzy, though,” he lays heavy on the raspy sound in his voice (which he unfortunately isn’t really able to differentiate from his sexy, dirty-talking-into-Jongin’s-ear-in-bed voice, so he doesn’t know how sick he really sounds).
Jongin still frowns, and his words sounds so soft and pleasant. “Should we go home? I can drive if you want.”
Sehun’s happy that Jongin still refers to his house as their collective ‘home’, so at least not everything has changed. He’s so happy that he forgives Jongin’s little white lie about driving, because Jongin absolutely, positively hates driving, and would never sit himself behind the steering wheel even if he was Noah and the car was his ark.
*
Jongin's not used to being cornered by other people; usually he does the cornering himself, but an upperclassman named Kyungsoo comes up behind him while he's washing his hands and mouth in the sink (he just blew Taemin and Moonkyu behind the shed outside at recess. Again. It's pretty much a tradition by now, but he'll never get used to the god-awful taste). Kyungsoo is student council president and always has this very scary look on him, so Jongin has never so much as thought about approaching him, because there are just some people he just doesn't know how will treat him, or what they're into.
"You wouldn't believe some of the things I hear being whispered around in the teacher's lounge about you," Kyungsoo says behind him, voice deeper than he'd thought it would be. "You're practically famous, Jongin."
"What are you talking about?" He just says, trying to get the taste of cum out of his teeth. It's like permanent plaque on him these days. When's it not there?
"Are you really going to play dumb?"
Jongin shuts the tap off, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and turning around to face the stocky, sour-looking male. "What's it to you anyways?"
Kyungsoo's expression is unreadable. Jongin's not even smaller than him, but he sure feels like he is right now. Kyungsoo's piercing stare could make anyone cower, and his face looks somewhat dangerous, like he's been on a wanted poster for escaped convicts on the news. Jongin knows that he himself probably looks like one of the missing kids at the back of a milk carton right about now, but honestly, he's getting bad vibes from this whole situation.
"It's my job to keep the students in line, Jongin; so when I hear things about some young boy slutting himself around the male teachers, and apparently half the school as well, that's when this becomes my business."
Jongin clears his throat and bites his lip. It doesn't sound so great when someone says it out loud like that, laced with so much disgust. Suddenly he doesn't appreciate the fact that the bathroom is empty with the exception of the two of them, the light a little too bright for comfort.
"So what are you gonna do?" He asks, voice slightly faltering. "Tell on me?"
"I doubt something as measly as that would make anything sink into that little pea brain of yours. You see, maybe if you spent half as much time on schoolwork as you did on spreading your legs, maybe you'd actually have a shot at a decent education."
Jongin frowns, disliking this Kyungsoo boy more and more. "If you're just here to insult me--"
"I'm not. I promise. I'm here to teach you a lesson. Bend over the sink, please."
"Excuse me?" Jongin says. He doesn't like being told what to do. Well, he does in certain situations, but not when his very fragile but also very important dignity is on the line. Not that it isn't on the line the other times, or that it's even there at all, but--
"Don't worry; I think you'll like my method of discipline," Kyungsoo assures him, patting him on the back. "It's right up your alley. I've even got someone guarding the door."
Reluctantly, Jongin bends over the sink, letting his ass jut out slightly. He feels a hand on his shoulders shove him down further and groans in protest, but stays still. It doesn't take long for his pants and underwear to be shoved down, and Jongin feels like this is a very familiar situation for him.
"Are you going to fuck me?" He asks automatically, waiting for something blunt to touch his hole.
"Don't be obscene,” Kyungsoo reprimands. “Not everybody gets week in the knees for you, Jongin."
It kind of hurts to hear it, but he'll never admit to that. It hurts the way it sometimes hurts to reach for the remote control and finding it outside of reach-radius.
Instead of whatever he assumed would happen, all he gets is a painful slap to one of his asscheeks, and it has him howling into the dirty curvature of the ceramic beneath his face.
"Ow!"
He doesn't even get to breathe before another one rains down, and then about twenty more, and he's drooling and whimpering and crying and half hard by the time Kyungsoo stops, his ass feeling so enflamed it's almost numb.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He hears Kyungsoo coo, and he has half a mind to punch him and run out of there with angry tears, but his knees are so week and he just wants to be touched some more, just a little bit more. The treatment to his ass translates in his messed up brain as something almost enjoyable, and so he whimpers, wiggling his behind in the hopes of a mercy-fuck or something of the like coming his way. "You're ridiculous," Kyungsoo just says, but he does pinch one of his sore cheeks and keep his hand on it, as if enjoying the feeling of the abused flesh against his palm. "Luckily for you, you're not the only one who got heated from our little session."
Jongin does a victory dance in his head, sucking on one of his own fingers in elation as he hears Kyungsoo sink down on his knees behind him, then feels his fleeting breath over his pained skin, including his sensitive hole. Before he knows it, a tongue has slithered out to wet him, pushing and prodding and warming, and oh it's so heavenly. He should definitely make a note of being spanked before letting someone eat him out, because nothing compares to the gentle, wet caress of lips and tongue over something that's just been tendered.
"O-oh my god--"
"Be quiet."
Jongin moans and writhes while Kyungsoo holds his thighs in place, going down on him like he's fucking Escargots À La Bourguignonne. It's not before he's come twice (painfully) that he remembers Kyungsoo has a girlfriend, and Jongin groans when he realizes that he has to add her to his list of people that will want you dead in the near future, so you better avoid them list.
*
Sehun should have known about Jongin's problem since that time when they were ten that Jongin told him his father hadn't left him when he was little, he was just on some sort of 'special, top-secret, government mission' that required he keep his distance from their family, and also meant he couldn't contact them due to liabilities. Also when Jongin claimed he didn't have a Playstation because three burglars had broken in one night and smashed it, but he scared them off with a knife. Oh, and his mother was a secret agent, his uncle a fire-eater at a circus who always let Jongin come visit him whenever he wanted to pet the lions.
Jongin is better at lying these days, but he always falls through somewhere, and Sehun always knows what Jongin is lying about, because nothing he says is ever the truth. It’s not a difficult equation.
That's why it hurts a lot when one day Sehun tells Jongin they should stop fucking around because it could ruin their friendship, and Jongin responds by dropping to his knees and hugging Sehun's own as he gasps out, "But I'm in love with you! I've loved you since we met when we were eight! Please don't make it stop!"
Jongin is squeezing him hard, like he actually means it this time, and Sehun can think of nothing else to do than place an awkward hand on his shoulder while Jongin sprouts crocodile tears because he's so gone he believes himself every single time. It's Sehun's own fault for letting it all go on for so long. He wonders if he'd never agreed to take Jongin's virginity that one time when they were 15, if things would have been different between them. Maybe he even started it all. He's not sure, but he feels a crushing sense of responsibility all of a sudden, like he's the one who knocked the first domino over.
Sehun cries himself to sleep that night because Jongin is slipping between his fingers and he can't stop him. He's pretty sure never even had him in the first place.
*
Jongin's always had a thing for older men. He really, really has. Not that he's only ever been with older men, because he hasn't, but he just absolutely can't help it when his P.E. teacher (really handsome P.E. teacher with that nice smile) pulls him aside one day and asks him about why he's wearing really short shorts unlike the rest of the boys who are donning the assigned, casual basketball ones.
Jongin just shrugs. It's not like he's wearing them to get Coach's attention or anything. That would be dumb. Especially because he told all the others in his class that he left his real ones at home and had to borrow his sister's and had them all laughing at him for at least fifteen minutes, some throwing sideways snickers as they ran laps too.
He is, though. He feels like he's starved for attention. Sehun has been looking at him weird all day, but he doesn't care. He wants Coach's attention.
And he gets it.
Jongin is on his knees on Coach's kitchen floor, sucking him off the best he can while Prince plays in the background and wow, Coach must be quite a bit older than he thought, because Prince. But that's alright, because Jongin's having the time of his life, fisting himself in his little gym shorts while he fills his mouth with Coach's musky meat, and he's probably come twice already from sucking him off and touching himself to it alone (he's getting worse at holding back; it's almost like he's aging in reverse).
"Let's go up to my bedroom, alright, Jonginnie?"
Jongin almost forgets he's spun some spiel about being in love with Coach since he first laid eyes on him, and saying he's desperate for him and will die if he can't have him, and Coach has either taken pity on him or somehow returned his feelings, because he took him home in his sleek Mercedes and undressed him, calling him a good boy and talking very sweet while they kissed.
"It's my first time," he says automatically while he lays on the cover of Coach's bed, staring at a picture on the bedside table, which happens to be a family portrait. It just occurs to him that Coach has a wife, because she's right there in that picture, smiling brightly while holding an arm around a very small son. She's plump and wearing an ugly sweater, and Jongin looks away, glancing around the room instead for something more exciting and not so weird. Half of the room is covered in flowery quilts and sewing gear, while the other half is rather plain and with the exception of pressed slacks hanging over a chair, as well as a glass case full of guns on display, rifles and pistols and all kinds of other--
"Don't worry, I'll be very gentle. You can tell me to stop if it hurts too much."
He stares up at Coach, not too sure what he’s talking about, but going along with it anyways. Three spit-slick fingers in and he's sweating, which Coach is too, but Coach sure is quite out of shape for someone whose job is to keep people fit. They should sue.
The lubricant Coach fishes out of his drawer raises more questions than it answers (but Jongin is going to assume his wife is too dry, in which case he's doing Coach a huge favour), and he just pulls his legs up, waiting to be filled.
"Wait, you're eighteen, right?"
"Yup."
A finger pushes in. Coach strokes his hair a lot and kisses him more, and Jongin doesn't mind at all, because he's about to be fucked so, so good, and he just can't get over the feeling of something in his ass; it's so weird and so foreign, because it's his first time, and he doesn't really get why it doesn't hurt more than it does, but it's okay because he'd rather it feel good than bad anyways. He's good at this. He's the little virgin boy in love with his gym teacher, that's what he is. Those are the kind of sounds he'll make. Pained whimpers, because, "Oh, please, sir, you're going too fast."
"Sorry. Are you alright?"
Jongin shifts, turning to the side and taking a deep breath. "Yeah." Coach smiles down at him, adding another finger with much less gusto.
What an odd guy, fucking someone on the side in his wife's bed. Jongin doesn't really care, but the picture of her smiling at him while Coach's erection slides in and out of his ass is uncomfortable at best, and he has to close his eyes for the remainder of the romp.
*
"Not even for old time's sake?"
"Jongin, we literally can't fuck right now because my mom's book club is right downstairs."
It's a slightly awkward air between them, mostly because Jongin is mad that Sehun won't fuck him anymore, but he can't bring himself to, because he's still upset that Jongin bailed on him to go get wined and dined and fucked by his twenty year older 'boyfriend' the other day. Jongin never even sticks to one person, but apparently their P.E. teacher does this really good thing with his tongue, because Sehun witnessed Jongin having a wet dream the last time he slept over, where he accidentally got a little TMI. He's just so done with Jongin's antics. And what the fuck does some old guy have on him, anyways?
He hasn't even realized Jongin's pulled down his pants and started fingering himself, but it's the sight he's greeted with when he looks back up, cheeks reddening.
"For fuck's sake," he mutters, looking away. Jongin is so ridiculous. He's such a caricature. Such a stereotype. Such a fucking whore and a lying bitch and dumb, little slut. But Sehun still loves him. What's the use in him lying to himself about that, right? Jongin lies enough for the both of them, and probably ten other people.
He clamps a hand over Jongin's loud mouth and fucks him into the gross carpet of his room so that his head bangs against the wall with each thrust and his back gets carpet burns. Jongin's eyes are full of unshed tears and he feels a little ballistic about his actions, but Jongin really deserves it this time. Hopefully he gets a bruise that Coach will question or at least be repelled by, because he probably doesn't know that Jongin sleeps around enough to catch all the STD's in the world like some freak Pokemon master.
A discarded Trojan later and they attempt to air out his room with wide open windows and Febreze, knowing Sehun's mom will be up to ask them if they want to come say hello to her club in a matter of minutes. Sehun is half embarrassed and half proud when Jongin greets everyone with messed up hair and hickeys on his neck, because at least none of them will be attempting to fuck Jongin when he clearly looks taken. It's only his mother that's never been too quick on the uptake. She smiles at the both of them.
*
It's when Coach insists Jongin sleeps over one night that everything starts going wrong.
He's curled up on the foreign couch with an itchy blanket pulled over him -courtesy of his new lover. Sleeping at Sehun’s was never this uncomfortable, Jesus- and Coach insists that it's alright because his wife is in the hospital for some treatment of something or other and his son is crashing at a friend's place.
Except Jongin wakes up in the middle of the night because someone is touching him, and jerks awake with wide eyes when he sees a young boy no more than thirteen standing over him, staring down with squinted eyes.
Jongin scrambles for his blanket, remembering that he's naked, and glances around for his clothes in panic. He can feel the boy’s anger radiating off of him like some sort of nuclear waste, and his heart is stuck in his throat.
"What? You didn't think I'd find out?" The boy says, his voice harsh, and Jongin's heart is beating so fast he feels like he's going to die. He never imagined he’d be scared of a child, but oh, he’s so scared. "You disgusting, little faggot slut. That’s my mom you’re hurting. And she’s sick, you gross fuck."
He's taken aback by the harsh words, especially coming out of that young mouth, but he doesn't have the chance to say anything at all, because the boy decides to spit him in the face, and Jongin is blinded for a minute, his eyes stinging.
"Get the fuck out."
Jongin stumbles up from the couch and reaches for his clothes, not stopping his gangly walk until he's out of the house, trembling.
It's when he's sitting on the night-bus home, shivering and sweat-drenched, that Jongin realizes he's absolutely miserable (also selfish. Maybe). Half the looks he gets are out of pity and the other half are disgust. 'Homewrecker' is written across his forehead with a sharpie, and he didn't even notice it was there until he saw it in his reflection on the bus window.
*
A few nights before Jongin gets killed, he starts acting really weird, and that's how Sehun gets the feeling that something is up.
All of a sudden he's sitting with a lapful of crying Jongin while his hands are on the GameCube controller, playing the annoying part of Resident Evil 4 where you have to open all those fucking doors and why the fuck does he keep dying? He drops it in favour of trying to console his best friend, rubbing circles into his back and laying the controller to the left of them.
"Do you love me?" Jongin asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at him with wet, hopeful eyes, and it’s irrelevant, but Sehun suddenly thinks the heavy feeling of Jongin sitting on him feels way too good.
The question comes quick and unprepared for, and so Sehun just blurts out, "What are you even talking about?" Stilling his attempts at bodily consolation.
Jongin cries harder into his chest and Sehun doesn't really know what to do or what he's done wrong. He's pissed off because Jongin thinks he can screw around with whoever and then always come back to him without even admitting to it, even though Sehun's been in love with him for the longest time. He's never really said it, but he assumed it came across when he bought Jongin the new GameBoy Advance SP with the Mario Versus Donkey Kong game in it in tenth grade, because who the fuck does that for someone without at least really, super caring about them?
"I can't stop doing it-- I-- everyone says I do it, but I don't even...I-I don't know what they're talking about, you know? But people get really mad about it, and then they say mean th-things..."
Jongin's never stuttered and his breath has never hitched before, so Sehun is taken aback, subconsciously bringing his arms up to wrap around the boy, like that will bring them metaphorically closer and help them be more connected.
"Jongin, it's alright. They just don't know you like I do," he assures him, wiping one of Jongin's fat tears away and pushing some strands of his hair behind his ear. It's a horrible lie and he knows it, but for a liar, Jongin is extremely unperceptive of when he himself is being lied to, and it works in Sehun's favour.
Leon died in the video game a long time ago, and Sehun settles for telling Jongin he can sleep over, big-spooning him from behind through the night until Jongin stops crying (except he never does).
*
Jongin realizes Kyungsoo's girlfriend knows Coach's son when he sees them talking on the school grounds one day, and he stops trying to stand out and get noticed in favour of blending in for a little while, because that bad feeling in his gut is back. He feels like they’re up to something, and his stomach is knotted and he feels queasy.
He tries to fix it by begging Sehun to fuck him in-between classes, his best friend hoisting him up against a lavatory wall while he ruts into him, and Jongin tries to be as loud as possible to get rid of all the voices in his head. Sehun has a death grip around his thighs, and Jongin is too tired to tell him to be more careful because he doesn't want to bruise, so he just lets him do all his macho marking stuff and eggs him on by moaning as sultrily as possible, which isn't hard.
"You like that, huh?" Sehun asks, reaching a hand up to play with the pebbled nipples under his shirt, and he crumbles even more. Sehun knows that dirty talk is his Achilles heel, even though he's never told him. Sehun just knows a lot of things.
"Yeah," he breathes, reaching his arms around Sehun's neck and pulling him in closer so that they can kiss, Sehun's mouth so wet and familiar and his tongue so soothing. He never feels better than he does with Sehun's tongue down his throat, and he wishes he could choke like this, fucked against the wall of a bathroom stall by him.
"Tell me how much you like my cock, Jongin," Sehun mutters as he thrusts hard and fast, lips pressed against his neck. "Tell me good it feels."
"I..."
Jongin thinks he'd probably be more into it if he didn't have a crippling anxiety clawing at the inside of his chest that very moment, his whole body trembling. Sehun probably assumes it's from pleasure, except when Jongin reaches up to cover his eyes because he starts feeling tears form, and his whole body tenses up and a weak whimper leaves his throat.
"Jongin? Is something wrong?" Sehun's voice is soft and concerned now, and Jongin appreciates it. They're not vulnerable enough together, and it's really something he wishes could change. Sehun stops thrusting.
"It's just,” Kai starts, his voice breaking mid-way. “I was sleeping over at Coach's yesterday, and--"
"Really?” Sehun says flatly, pulling away from him a little. “You're going to talk about someone else while I'm fucking you?"
Jongin shakes his head. He wasn't even going to tell him about that. He was just going to say something like he got a call from his mom and she told him that his dad was sick, but he doesn't make it.
"I'm sorry. Sehun, I really am. I didn't mean to...you know I love--"
Sehun let's go of him, and Jongin screams as he's dropped to the floor, bare ass slapping against the tiles. His best friend stares down at him, expressionless, and Jongin can't tell what he's done wrong now, even when Sehun leaves him there naked with the door open.
Little does Sehun know that he was about to hear the one truth Jongin's ever told. He doesn't even know that that's the last time he'll ever see him.
*
To be honest, nobody even knows of Jongin's real name even is Jongin, or if he has any real family or people who would want to hear about his passing, and nobody cares enough to find out. Sehun cares, but it was too little too late, and so when he gets the call about Jongin being shot at work the day after it happens, it's weird and tragic, but he doesn't cry.
It doesn't even feel real. He feels like he’s lost a little figment of his imagination, some imaginary friend who came to him in his times of need, and he sticks to that story, because nothing really changes once Jongin's gone except that he's not hurting anymore and he gets blue balls. There’s nobody there to ditch him and nobody to pine over, and he wonders if he’s just been going crazy for the past nine years.
The funeral isn't even an open casket one, because Jongin was shot out the face, and so less people turn up, because sadly, there are no refreshments or snacks when it takes place in a graveyard, and Jongin was too fictitious and fickle and split between different people to even have any part of him properly missed.
Length: Oneshot
Pairings: Sehun/Jongin, minor Kyungsoo/Jongin, OCs/Jongin
Rating: NC-17
Genre: psychological, smut, angst, romance (?)
Warnings: adult content, promiscuity, derogatory words, character death (somewhat emotionally removed and not explicit)
Summary: Jongin is a nympho with a bad habit and Sehun doesn't really know what to do about that, but he fucks Jongin a lot, and it's painful.
Jongin gets shot on a Friday afternoon at 6PM by a kid with a stolen Bersa while heading home from passing out flyers all day for Subway sandwiches. His advertisement placard hangs lopsidedly from his neck, forehead sweaty and one shoe unlaced, and the boy shoots him two times in the back of his head before sprinting away after like he's dodging timber up the pine woods after illegal felling.
Nobody is there to see it, but it's not exactly a woeful happening, so it doesn't really matter.
*
Sehun knows Jongin is walking on thin ice and always has been; it's the undercurrent of fear that scratches at his conscience from time to time, like when he's lying in bed jerking off to some Russian porno with Yung Simmie playing in the background, his blunt fizzled out in a glass from yesterday with some unknown substance in it.
His best friend is sinking like a cargo in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, and it's Jongin's own fault, but at the same time it isn't, and it tears Sehun apart sometimes, because just stop doing it, Jongin, but also I don't even know what you're talking about, Sehun.
His door is thrown open, and in walks the boy of the hour, backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder, like he's just casually dropping by.
"Shit. Sorry," Jongin remarks as he eyes Sehun's crotch, but throws his bag down on the floor regardless, pulling his jacket off and sending it in the same direction. "Bad time?"
"It's never a bad time," Sehun says, withdrawing his Vaseline-covered hand from his weeping cock, but Jongin already knows that. Sometimes he thinks beating off is more of a hassle than it's worth. He's been tugging for half an hour already without getting anywhere.
"Alright, cool."
Jongin is fidgety today, his palms Morse-tapping his upper thighs and his feet shuffling or shaking or some other derivative of nervous movement. Sehun turns the second-rate porno off, slamming his laptop shut while pushing it to the other end of his bed and leaning back against the headboard. He doesn't bother trying to tuck himself back into his underwear, because:
"I can finish you off, if you want," Jongin offers, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole ordeal, but Sehun knows he's hard about it already. Leaking and shit. But he would be stupid if he turned him down, so:
"Yeah."
He stares at the crown of Jongin's head as the boy blows him, kneeling on the same bed as Sehun's sheets that have gone over a year without being changed. It's dirty and juvenile, but Sehun gets off easily with Jongin's plump lips wrapped around his thicker-than-average shaft, his mouth warmer than the cheap McDonald's apple pie they sometimes sell in the morning (not that he’s tried to American-pie one of those at all. Never).
"Where were you?" He asks, threading his fingers into Jongin's soft hair. It's messy, just like his clothes, and he smells of someone else's cologne wafting off of him. It makes him feel a little queasy.
"Dance practice," Jongin says quickly as he pulls off, switching to pumping Sehun with his right hand, his lips spit-slick and reddened while he talks and it’s unlawfully erotic. "Taemin and Moonkyu and I have almost got this one routine down; we just need a few more hours to perfect it. But, you know Moonkyu…he keeps insisting we go over it like a million times until our balls drop off or something, so we haven't been able to catch a break since Sunday."
Jongin has been letting Moonkyu fuck him for the past couple weeks, and Moonkyu is a considerate guy, so he definitely hasn't been pushing him to dance when being dicked makes Jongin so sore. He hasn't been dancing at all.
"You'll come see me dance, right?" Jongin asks, halting his movements. He looks hopeful, and Sehun wonders how he does it. "I mean, if I can get you tickets and all. I can't guarantee it, but I'll try."
There is no dance show, and Sehun is never getting a ticket.
He just nods, hand moving to Jongin's head again to have him finish what he started. Jongin gets the hint, and he puts more suction in it this time, fisting what of it he can't get into his mouth and closing his eyes. Sehun pushes on his head a little, only because he knows Jongin secretly likes choking on him and being manhandled, but also maybe because he's really close and Jongin's mouth ought to be abused for all the lies it tells.
He comes hard, holding Jongin's head down as he empties himself so that his nose gets pressed into the tuft of his pubic hair. He feels the gag around his member, and only lets Jongin up when he's sure there isn't a drop left to spill onto his already dirty sheets. Jongin is dirtier than his sheets, so it's better off in him.
Sehun regrets thinking it as soon as he does, and pats Jongin's cheek amicably as compensation, finally tucking himself back in his boxers. Jongin licks his lips obscenely, much like the Russian girl in his video, and Sehun tries to remember why he still lets Jongin seduce him when he'd been around the block twice and probably up an alley at some point.
Jongin reaches to undo his own belt, his fingers nimble, and Sehun quickly asks, "Do you want something to eat? I think my mom's making dinner. I'm pretty hungry."
Jongin looks up at him, almost offended, and says, "No thanks; I'm good. Stopped by Deli de Luca after practice to get some dumplings. You really ought to try them some time, you know. They're killer."
Jongin hasn't eaten. Sehun heard his stomach rumbling twice while he was sucking him off, and Deli de Luca doesn't serve dumplings. Jesus Christ.
"Alright, never mind." he shrugs, reaching for his pants on the floor, but Jongin stops him, giving him the puppy dog eyes and sticking out his bottom lip. Sehun laughs curtly as he shakes Jongin's hand off his wrist. "You're insatiable, you know that?"
Jongin smiles, knowing he has Sehun on the hook, which he clearly does, because Sehun's forgotten all about his pants already, and the hunger. Well, it’s just a different hunger now. Jongin doesn't answer, because it would be another little untruth, no matter how jokingly said, and just pulls off his t-shirt, waiting for Sehun to make a move.
Sehun doesn't mean to be so hung up on Jongin and all his bad habits, but he is, and he's hung up on his body too, because it's warm and welcoming and familiar and really fucking sexy. What’s the worst is that Jongin knows he likes him slightly more than in a friendly sort of way, but still he keeps going with everything.
"Did Moonkyu stretch you out?" Sehun asks as he goes down on him, hovering over his frame, and it's the worst possible time for him to expel some jealousy-induced word-vomit, but knowing his luck, of course he would.
And it's when Jongin is caught in one of his own unnecessary lies that he flips out.
"I'm leaving if you're gonna be like this. I can't believe you--"
"Jongin, it's alright if you fucked him. I won't judge you for anything you do. You just don't need to keep stuff from me all the time. It's not like we're dating or anything."
"I haven't fucked anyone,” Jongin huffs. “I touched myself after practice a little is all. I don't know what you're talking about."
Jongin handles being caught lying just about as well as Kanye West handled Taylor Swift winning Best Music Video back in 2009.
*
Jongin really has a thing for blondes. Okay, so he has a thing for brunettes too, and he's never been with a redhead, but he's sure he'd be into it. Green hair would be the hottest, actually. The point is that he's really into his History teacher, who has a bad bleach-job done to his long-ish 90s hair and always wears colourful shirts to class. Jongin's not really sure how old he is, but it doesn't really matter, because he's giving Jongin the bedroom eyes during class and he can do nothing but day-dream about being bent over Mr. Park's desk, pants pulled down and being spanked with the big, wooden pointer he uses to point out areas of Germany that used to hold concentration camps.
He's hard and leaking just thinking about it, and it's so bad he almost feels like crying. He just wants it so bad.
He glances around himself to make sure nobody is looking, and it seems like they're all busy listening to what Mr. Park is saying, except for Sehun, who flicks a pencil at him and points to the board, trying to get him to pay attention. He sticks his tongue out at Sehun, because he hates it when he treats him like that, like he can't do anything right, and turns to face the front in annoyance.
It's Sehun's loss in the end, because Jongin somehow ends up on his back with Mr. Park fucking him on a desk, coarse slacks grazing his ass with every thrust while he bites down on the fingers in his mouth to keep quiet. He's never been fucked so rough, and it's amazing, but he regrets it quite a bit afterwards, because he's so sore he can't even make it to watch Spiderman 2 with Sehun like they’d planned (and he actually wanted to see that one). He tells Sehun he got caught up with being tutored and lost track of time, because he did lose track of time at one point, and he was kind of tutored in the act of love-making by someone who was very overqualified to be a tutor.
*
In Sehun's opinion, for a nymphomaniac, Jongin sure has an obsession with pretending he's the Nick Jonas of sex, one purity ring away from swearing celibacy and no romping out of wedlock. And it's all really ironic, because he rides Sehun like he gets paid big bucks at the rodeo, knowing exactly how to touch himself to orgasm and just how to clench down on Sehun to drag him down the same, ill-fated path.
"Fuck, I'm so close," Jongin whines, leaning his head down on Sehun's shoulder, and Sehun knows it's time to take over. He grabs Jongin's thick ass, planting his feet steady on the floor as he leans back in the couch and begins to thrust his hips up like a machine, trying to ignore the sting of Jongin sinking his bizarrely long nails into his bicep. He grunts with every push, because Jongin isn't exactly some size-0 cocaine-addicted model, but luckily Sehun's strong enough for at least 10 people (not to brag, he's just keeping it real), and it's a good match in the end, Jongin putting up no fight while he's fucked into oblivion.
Sehun comes into the condom, pulling on Jongin's hair, and he wonders how many people have done that, but that's like wondering how many people have spat gum on the pavement at 7th Avenue without picking it up, all that shit that turns into some kind of splotchy part of the ground; little marks left by lazy people.
Jongin sinks into him more as he comes down from his high, his own come spattered between their stomachs in a lukewarm, lulling way, and Sehun likes it when Jongin gets all touchy-feely like this, placing gentle kisses on his cheeks until Sehun turns and lets him have his lips, because it reminds him that right now Jongin is his and is needy for his attention, and that's all he can ever hope for, really.
They make a pizza afterwards and eat it while doing Math homework, because Jongin says he wants to cross-check his answers with Sehun, but really he's just going to copy. Sehun lets him, staring at his beautifully concentrated face while rubbing circles into his exposed waist, his t-shirt having ridden up while he was shifting on the floor. He wonders if he should get the tomato sauce at the corner of Jongin's lips for him, licking his own at the thought of taking care of the matter with his tongue. He doesn't even know how Jongin is still rejecting his suggestive advances after his hand has slipped halfway into his underwear, but that damn Math grade must be fucking important because his best friend never turns down sex.
*
Jongin didn’t copy the right answers off of Sehun; he made sure the digits he wrote down were wrong, but wrong by only a few miscalculations, so that he doesn’t seem stupid. That way he can work himself into a serious talk with Mr. Choi about the dropping of his grades, and also somehow stealthily find a way to convince the man to let Jongin blow him.
He loves the feeling cock in his mouth, and that might sound a little obscene, but it's just like any other guilty pleasure, really. It doesn't even run the risk of death or diabetes like smoking and eating lots of candy does. It's just a little comfort.
He loves the feeling so much he'll drop to his knees for just about anyone if they ask, especially the hot jocks from football club. They're ripped and willing to do anything to get off, and it's not like they say they're bi or anything, but Jongin picks up the hint when he’s habitually invited in to their locker room for some important, post-training relaxation sessions.
*
Jongin’s working again, and Sehun chills with him on a bench next to where the boy is standing trying to pass out flyers for Subway to hurried strangers. That was basically Sehun and McDonald’s, but they fired him after he flipped off too many of their (very rude) potential customers. Jongin’s a little better with people. He has this charm about him that lures people in, and he seals the deal with this amazing smile that haunts Sehun’s dreams sometimes. Essentially, that means Sehun gets to put it on him to buy the alcohol for the Saturday party admission fee, which he doesn’t even particularly want to go to because it’s probably going to progress in the direction of Jongin telling him he has to ‘go to the bathroom’ and then never returning. Sehun will then glance around to check if there are any hot people who could try his luck with, but at the realization of nobody being as hot as Jongin it just has his dick softening and almost shriveling up, so he’ll end up going home early. Then Jongin will show up at his door the next morning, angry that Sehun left him at the party, and Sehun will shut him up with a quick pity-fuck in the back of his old BMW.
“Can you do me?”
Sehun jerks out of his semi-psychic thoughts to find Jongin looking at him nervously. “What?”
“I said can you do me a favour.”
“Oh.” Sehun thinks he should dunk his entire body in cold water for obvious reasons. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Thanks. Hand out these flyers while I head to the toilet?”
“The toilet, huh?” Sehun says, remembering Jongin going right before they left his house. “Alright.”
So, what was it this time? Jongin wanting a hand-job from his manager? Caught the eye of a particularly handsome customer? Glory-hole whore?
Sehun almost rolls his eye so hard they disappear inside his head and decides to stop trying to figure out Jongin’s real agenda to spare his stomach the upset. He accepts the flyers that Jongin pushes to him as he leaves, but he feels uneasy about Jongin going.
“Jongin, wait,” he says, racking his brain for something he can say that sounds plausible and will make him not go anywhere. He drops the flyers to the ground and groans, hunching over. He doesn’t even know how good of an actor he is, but he supposes it’s time to find out. “I’m not feeling very well.”
Jongin walks back to his side, sitting down next to him and feeling his forehead, the flyers forgotten.
“Wasn’t the burrito, was it? I’ve told you to lay off that stuff.”
Sehun cracks a grin, glad he can hold Jongin’s attention for at least a little while longer. Jongin just looks at him worriedly, leaning his head in his hand. Maybe lying is just something he’s bound to naturally pick up from Jongin sooner or later; he’s exposed to it enough. Adaptation and all that.
“Don’t know what it is…I’m feeling kinda dizzy, though,” he lays heavy on the raspy sound in his voice (which he unfortunately isn’t really able to differentiate from his sexy, dirty-talking-into-Jongin’s-ear-in-bed voice, so he doesn’t know how sick he really sounds).
Jongin still frowns, and his words sounds so soft and pleasant. “Should we go home? I can drive if you want.”
Sehun’s happy that Jongin still refers to his house as their collective ‘home’, so at least not everything has changed. He’s so happy that he forgives Jongin’s little white lie about driving, because Jongin absolutely, positively hates driving, and would never sit himself behind the steering wheel even if he was Noah and the car was his ark.
*
Jongin's not used to being cornered by other people; usually he does the cornering himself, but an upperclassman named Kyungsoo comes up behind him while he's washing his hands and mouth in the sink (he just blew Taemin and Moonkyu behind the shed outside at recess. Again. It's pretty much a tradition by now, but he'll never get used to the god-awful taste). Kyungsoo is student council president and always has this very scary look on him, so Jongin has never so much as thought about approaching him, because there are just some people he just doesn't know how will treat him, or what they're into.
"You wouldn't believe some of the things I hear being whispered around in the teacher's lounge about you," Kyungsoo says behind him, voice deeper than he'd thought it would be. "You're practically famous, Jongin."
"What are you talking about?" He just says, trying to get the taste of cum out of his teeth. It's like permanent plaque on him these days. When's it not there?
"Are you really going to play dumb?"
Jongin shuts the tap off, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and turning around to face the stocky, sour-looking male. "What's it to you anyways?"
Kyungsoo's expression is unreadable. Jongin's not even smaller than him, but he sure feels like he is right now. Kyungsoo's piercing stare could make anyone cower, and his face looks somewhat dangerous, like he's been on a wanted poster for escaped convicts on the news. Jongin knows that he himself probably looks like one of the missing kids at the back of a milk carton right about now, but honestly, he's getting bad vibes from this whole situation.
"It's my job to keep the students in line, Jongin; so when I hear things about some young boy slutting himself around the male teachers, and apparently half the school as well, that's when this becomes my business."
Jongin clears his throat and bites his lip. It doesn't sound so great when someone says it out loud like that, laced with so much disgust. Suddenly he doesn't appreciate the fact that the bathroom is empty with the exception of the two of them, the light a little too bright for comfort.
"So what are you gonna do?" He asks, voice slightly faltering. "Tell on me?"
"I doubt something as measly as that would make anything sink into that little pea brain of yours. You see, maybe if you spent half as much time on schoolwork as you did on spreading your legs, maybe you'd actually have a shot at a decent education."
Jongin frowns, disliking this Kyungsoo boy more and more. "If you're just here to insult me--"
"I'm not. I promise. I'm here to teach you a lesson. Bend over the sink, please."
"Excuse me?" Jongin says. He doesn't like being told what to do. Well, he does in certain situations, but not when his very fragile but also very important dignity is on the line. Not that it isn't on the line the other times, or that it's even there at all, but--
"Don't worry; I think you'll like my method of discipline," Kyungsoo assures him, patting him on the back. "It's right up your alley. I've even got someone guarding the door."
Reluctantly, Jongin bends over the sink, letting his ass jut out slightly. He feels a hand on his shoulders shove him down further and groans in protest, but stays still. It doesn't take long for his pants and underwear to be shoved down, and Jongin feels like this is a very familiar situation for him.
"Are you going to fuck me?" He asks automatically, waiting for something blunt to touch his hole.
"Don't be obscene,” Kyungsoo reprimands. “Not everybody gets week in the knees for you, Jongin."
It kind of hurts to hear it, but he'll never admit to that. It hurts the way it sometimes hurts to reach for the remote control and finding it outside of reach-radius.
Instead of whatever he assumed would happen, all he gets is a painful slap to one of his asscheeks, and it has him howling into the dirty curvature of the ceramic beneath his face.
"Ow!"
He doesn't even get to breathe before another one rains down, and then about twenty more, and he's drooling and whimpering and crying and half hard by the time Kyungsoo stops, his ass feeling so enflamed it's almost numb.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He hears Kyungsoo coo, and he has half a mind to punch him and run out of there with angry tears, but his knees are so week and he just wants to be touched some more, just a little bit more. The treatment to his ass translates in his messed up brain as something almost enjoyable, and so he whimpers, wiggling his behind in the hopes of a mercy-fuck or something of the like coming his way. "You're ridiculous," Kyungsoo just says, but he does pinch one of his sore cheeks and keep his hand on it, as if enjoying the feeling of the abused flesh against his palm. "Luckily for you, you're not the only one who got heated from our little session."
Jongin does a victory dance in his head, sucking on one of his own fingers in elation as he hears Kyungsoo sink down on his knees behind him, then feels his fleeting breath over his pained skin, including his sensitive hole. Before he knows it, a tongue has slithered out to wet him, pushing and prodding and warming, and oh it's so heavenly. He should definitely make a note of being spanked before letting someone eat him out, because nothing compares to the gentle, wet caress of lips and tongue over something that's just been tendered.
"O-oh my god--"
"Be quiet."
Jongin moans and writhes while Kyungsoo holds his thighs in place, going down on him like he's fucking Escargots À La Bourguignonne. It's not before he's come twice (painfully) that he remembers Kyungsoo has a girlfriend, and Jongin groans when he realizes that he has to add her to his list of people that will want you dead in the near future, so you better avoid them list.
*
Sehun should have known about Jongin's problem since that time when they were ten that Jongin told him his father hadn't left him when he was little, he was just on some sort of 'special, top-secret, government mission' that required he keep his distance from their family, and also meant he couldn't contact them due to liabilities. Also when Jongin claimed he didn't have a Playstation because three burglars had broken in one night and smashed it, but he scared them off with a knife. Oh, and his mother was a secret agent, his uncle a fire-eater at a circus who always let Jongin come visit him whenever he wanted to pet the lions.
Jongin is better at lying these days, but he always falls through somewhere, and Sehun always knows what Jongin is lying about, because nothing he says is ever the truth. It’s not a difficult equation.
That's why it hurts a lot when one day Sehun tells Jongin they should stop fucking around because it could ruin their friendship, and Jongin responds by dropping to his knees and hugging Sehun's own as he gasps out, "But I'm in love with you! I've loved you since we met when we were eight! Please don't make it stop!"
Jongin is squeezing him hard, like he actually means it this time, and Sehun can think of nothing else to do than place an awkward hand on his shoulder while Jongin sprouts crocodile tears because he's so gone he believes himself every single time. It's Sehun's own fault for letting it all go on for so long. He wonders if he'd never agreed to take Jongin's virginity that one time when they were 15, if things would have been different between them. Maybe he even started it all. He's not sure, but he feels a crushing sense of responsibility all of a sudden, like he's the one who knocked the first domino over.
Sehun cries himself to sleep that night because Jongin is slipping between his fingers and he can't stop him. He's pretty sure never even had him in the first place.
*
Jongin's always had a thing for older men. He really, really has. Not that he's only ever been with older men, because he hasn't, but he just absolutely can't help it when his P.E. teacher (really handsome P.E. teacher with that nice smile) pulls him aside one day and asks him about why he's wearing really short shorts unlike the rest of the boys who are donning the assigned, casual basketball ones.
Jongin just shrugs. It's not like he's wearing them to get Coach's attention or anything. That would be dumb. Especially because he told all the others in his class that he left his real ones at home and had to borrow his sister's and had them all laughing at him for at least fifteen minutes, some throwing sideways snickers as they ran laps too.
He is, though. He feels like he's starved for attention. Sehun has been looking at him weird all day, but he doesn't care. He wants Coach's attention.
And he gets it.
Jongin is on his knees on Coach's kitchen floor, sucking him off the best he can while Prince plays in the background and wow, Coach must be quite a bit older than he thought, because Prince. But that's alright, because Jongin's having the time of his life, fisting himself in his little gym shorts while he fills his mouth with Coach's musky meat, and he's probably come twice already from sucking him off and touching himself to it alone (he's getting worse at holding back; it's almost like he's aging in reverse).
"Let's go up to my bedroom, alright, Jonginnie?"
Jongin almost forgets he's spun some spiel about being in love with Coach since he first laid eyes on him, and saying he's desperate for him and will die if he can't have him, and Coach has either taken pity on him or somehow returned his feelings, because he took him home in his sleek Mercedes and undressed him, calling him a good boy and talking very sweet while they kissed.
"It's my first time," he says automatically while he lays on the cover of Coach's bed, staring at a picture on the bedside table, which happens to be a family portrait. It just occurs to him that Coach has a wife, because she's right there in that picture, smiling brightly while holding an arm around a very small son. She's plump and wearing an ugly sweater, and Jongin looks away, glancing around the room instead for something more exciting and not so weird. Half of the room is covered in flowery quilts and sewing gear, while the other half is rather plain and with the exception of pressed slacks hanging over a chair, as well as a glass case full of guns on display, rifles and pistols and all kinds of other--
"Don't worry, I'll be very gentle. You can tell me to stop if it hurts too much."
He stares up at Coach, not too sure what he’s talking about, but going along with it anyways. Three spit-slick fingers in and he's sweating, which Coach is too, but Coach sure is quite out of shape for someone whose job is to keep people fit. They should sue.
The lubricant Coach fishes out of his drawer raises more questions than it answers (but Jongin is going to assume his wife is too dry, in which case he's doing Coach a huge favour), and he just pulls his legs up, waiting to be filled.
"Wait, you're eighteen, right?"
"Yup."
A finger pushes in. Coach strokes his hair a lot and kisses him more, and Jongin doesn't mind at all, because he's about to be fucked so, so good, and he just can't get over the feeling of something in his ass; it's so weird and so foreign, because it's his first time, and he doesn't really get why it doesn't hurt more than it does, but it's okay because he'd rather it feel good than bad anyways. He's good at this. He's the little virgin boy in love with his gym teacher, that's what he is. Those are the kind of sounds he'll make. Pained whimpers, because, "Oh, please, sir, you're going too fast."
"Sorry. Are you alright?"
Jongin shifts, turning to the side and taking a deep breath. "Yeah." Coach smiles down at him, adding another finger with much less gusto.
What an odd guy, fucking someone on the side in his wife's bed. Jongin doesn't really care, but the picture of her smiling at him while Coach's erection slides in and out of his ass is uncomfortable at best, and he has to close his eyes for the remainder of the romp.
*
"Not even for old time's sake?"
"Jongin, we literally can't fuck right now because my mom's book club is right downstairs."
It's a slightly awkward air between them, mostly because Jongin is mad that Sehun won't fuck him anymore, but he can't bring himself to, because he's still upset that Jongin bailed on him to go get wined and dined and fucked by his twenty year older 'boyfriend' the other day. Jongin never even sticks to one person, but apparently their P.E. teacher does this really good thing with his tongue, because Sehun witnessed Jongin having a wet dream the last time he slept over, where he accidentally got a little TMI. He's just so done with Jongin's antics. And what the fuck does some old guy have on him, anyways?
He hasn't even realized Jongin's pulled down his pants and started fingering himself, but it's the sight he's greeted with when he looks back up, cheeks reddening.
"For fuck's sake," he mutters, looking away. Jongin is so ridiculous. He's such a caricature. Such a stereotype. Such a fucking whore and a lying bitch and dumb, little slut. But Sehun still loves him. What's the use in him lying to himself about that, right? Jongin lies enough for the both of them, and probably ten other people.
He clamps a hand over Jongin's loud mouth and fucks him into the gross carpet of his room so that his head bangs against the wall with each thrust and his back gets carpet burns. Jongin's eyes are full of unshed tears and he feels a little ballistic about his actions, but Jongin really deserves it this time. Hopefully he gets a bruise that Coach will question or at least be repelled by, because he probably doesn't know that Jongin sleeps around enough to catch all the STD's in the world like some freak Pokemon master.
A discarded Trojan later and they attempt to air out his room with wide open windows and Febreze, knowing Sehun's mom will be up to ask them if they want to come say hello to her club in a matter of minutes. Sehun is half embarrassed and half proud when Jongin greets everyone with messed up hair and hickeys on his neck, because at least none of them will be attempting to fuck Jongin when he clearly looks taken. It's only his mother that's never been too quick on the uptake. She smiles at the both of them.
*
It's when Coach insists Jongin sleeps over one night that everything starts going wrong.
He's curled up on the foreign couch with an itchy blanket pulled over him -courtesy of his new lover. Sleeping at Sehun’s was never this uncomfortable, Jesus- and Coach insists that it's alright because his wife is in the hospital for some treatment of something or other and his son is crashing at a friend's place.
Except Jongin wakes up in the middle of the night because someone is touching him, and jerks awake with wide eyes when he sees a young boy no more than thirteen standing over him, staring down with squinted eyes.
Jongin scrambles for his blanket, remembering that he's naked, and glances around for his clothes in panic. He can feel the boy’s anger radiating off of him like some sort of nuclear waste, and his heart is stuck in his throat.
"What? You didn't think I'd find out?" The boy says, his voice harsh, and Jongin's heart is beating so fast he feels like he's going to die. He never imagined he’d be scared of a child, but oh, he’s so scared. "You disgusting, little faggot slut. That’s my mom you’re hurting. And she’s sick, you gross fuck."
He's taken aback by the harsh words, especially coming out of that young mouth, but he doesn't have the chance to say anything at all, because the boy decides to spit him in the face, and Jongin is blinded for a minute, his eyes stinging.
"Get the fuck out."
Jongin stumbles up from the couch and reaches for his clothes, not stopping his gangly walk until he's out of the house, trembling.
It's when he's sitting on the night-bus home, shivering and sweat-drenched, that Jongin realizes he's absolutely miserable (also selfish. Maybe). Half the looks he gets are out of pity and the other half are disgust. 'Homewrecker' is written across his forehead with a sharpie, and he didn't even notice it was there until he saw it in his reflection on the bus window.
*
A few nights before Jongin gets killed, he starts acting really weird, and that's how Sehun gets the feeling that something is up.
All of a sudden he's sitting with a lapful of crying Jongin while his hands are on the GameCube controller, playing the annoying part of Resident Evil 4 where you have to open all those fucking doors and why the fuck does he keep dying? He drops it in favour of trying to console his best friend, rubbing circles into his back and laying the controller to the left of them.
"Do you love me?" Jongin asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at him with wet, hopeful eyes, and it’s irrelevant, but Sehun suddenly thinks the heavy feeling of Jongin sitting on him feels way too good.
The question comes quick and unprepared for, and so Sehun just blurts out, "What are you even talking about?" Stilling his attempts at bodily consolation.
Jongin cries harder into his chest and Sehun doesn't really know what to do or what he's done wrong. He's pissed off because Jongin thinks he can screw around with whoever and then always come back to him without even admitting to it, even though Sehun's been in love with him for the longest time. He's never really said it, but he assumed it came across when he bought Jongin the new GameBoy Advance SP with the Mario Versus Donkey Kong game in it in tenth grade, because who the fuck does that for someone without at least really, super caring about them?
"I can't stop doing it-- I-- everyone says I do it, but I don't even...I-I don't know what they're talking about, you know? But people get really mad about it, and then they say mean th-things..."
Jongin's never stuttered and his breath has never hitched before, so Sehun is taken aback, subconsciously bringing his arms up to wrap around the boy, like that will bring them metaphorically closer and help them be more connected.
"Jongin, it's alright. They just don't know you like I do," he assures him, wiping one of Jongin's fat tears away and pushing some strands of his hair behind his ear. It's a horrible lie and he knows it, but for a liar, Jongin is extremely unperceptive of when he himself is being lied to, and it works in Sehun's favour.
Leon died in the video game a long time ago, and Sehun settles for telling Jongin he can sleep over, big-spooning him from behind through the night until Jongin stops crying (except he never does).
*
Jongin realizes Kyungsoo's girlfriend knows Coach's son when he sees them talking on the school grounds one day, and he stops trying to stand out and get noticed in favour of blending in for a little while, because that bad feeling in his gut is back. He feels like they’re up to something, and his stomach is knotted and he feels queasy.
He tries to fix it by begging Sehun to fuck him in-between classes, his best friend hoisting him up against a lavatory wall while he ruts into him, and Jongin tries to be as loud as possible to get rid of all the voices in his head. Sehun has a death grip around his thighs, and Jongin is too tired to tell him to be more careful because he doesn't want to bruise, so he just lets him do all his macho marking stuff and eggs him on by moaning as sultrily as possible, which isn't hard.
"You like that, huh?" Sehun asks, reaching a hand up to play with the pebbled nipples under his shirt, and he crumbles even more. Sehun knows that dirty talk is his Achilles heel, even though he's never told him. Sehun just knows a lot of things.
"Yeah," he breathes, reaching his arms around Sehun's neck and pulling him in closer so that they can kiss, Sehun's mouth so wet and familiar and his tongue so soothing. He never feels better than he does with Sehun's tongue down his throat, and he wishes he could choke like this, fucked against the wall of a bathroom stall by him.
"Tell me how much you like my cock, Jongin," Sehun mutters as he thrusts hard and fast, lips pressed against his neck. "Tell me good it feels."
"I..."
Jongin thinks he'd probably be more into it if he didn't have a crippling anxiety clawing at the inside of his chest that very moment, his whole body trembling. Sehun probably assumes it's from pleasure, except when Jongin reaches up to cover his eyes because he starts feeling tears form, and his whole body tenses up and a weak whimper leaves his throat.
"Jongin? Is something wrong?" Sehun's voice is soft and concerned now, and Jongin appreciates it. They're not vulnerable enough together, and it's really something he wishes could change. Sehun stops thrusting.
"It's just,” Kai starts, his voice breaking mid-way. “I was sleeping over at Coach's yesterday, and--"
"Really?” Sehun says flatly, pulling away from him a little. “You're going to talk about someone else while I'm fucking you?"
Jongin shakes his head. He wasn't even going to tell him about that. He was just going to say something like he got a call from his mom and she told him that his dad was sick, but he doesn't make it.
"I'm sorry. Sehun, I really am. I didn't mean to...you know I love--"
Sehun let's go of him, and Jongin screams as he's dropped to the floor, bare ass slapping against the tiles. His best friend stares down at him, expressionless, and Jongin can't tell what he's done wrong now, even when Sehun leaves him there naked with the door open.
Little does Sehun know that he was about to hear the one truth Jongin's ever told. He doesn't even know that that's the last time he'll ever see him.
*
To be honest, nobody even knows of Jongin's real name even is Jongin, or if he has any real family or people who would want to hear about his passing, and nobody cares enough to find out. Sehun cares, but it was too little too late, and so when he gets the call about Jongin being shot at work the day after it happens, it's weird and tragic, but he doesn't cry.
It doesn't even feel real. He feels like he’s lost a little figment of his imagination, some imaginary friend who came to him in his times of need, and he sticks to that story, because nothing really changes once Jongin's gone except that he's not hurting anymore and he gets blue balls. There’s nobody there to ditch him and nobody to pine over, and he wonders if he’s just been going crazy for the past nine years.
The funeral isn't even an open casket one, because Jongin was shot out the face, and so less people turn up, because sadly, there are no refreshments or snacks when it takes place in a graveyard, and Jongin was too fictitious and fickle and split between different people to even have any part of him properly missed.