A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me (for pink_panda_baby)
Title: A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me
Recipient: pink_panda_baby
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,400
Warning(s): none
Summary: When Jinyoung ends up at a frat party on a Friday night, the last thing he expects is to meet a rock star.
A/N: Dear recipient, I wanted to write you so much more but my procrastination and poor time management unfortunately got in the way. I promise to grant you a sequel/extended version should you request it ^^
Jinyoung can think of about a million other places he’d rather be right now; Friday night, 1AM, sipping on cheap beer on some stranger’s tattered couch. He should be in his room watching Netflix, marathoning Twin Peaks or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, organizing his closet or reading Catcher in the Rye for the fifth time. But no. Jinyoung just had to be a pushover, just had to let Jackson drag him to some frat party on the other side of campus with the promise of staying by his side the entire night.
Jinyoung should’ve known better than to trust him, should’ve known he’d slink away the minute he laid eyes on the bubbly, buxom blond from Social Psych. In the end he has no one but himself to blame really.
So now here he is, awkward and alone, trying to look less pathetic by keeping busy on his phone as he waits for Jackson to find him and tell him he’s ready to leave.
Two beers and thirty minutes later though, Jinyoung is becoming restless. He hasn’t heard from Jackson in hours, not so much as a simple hey I’m fine. no one’s murdered me to his borderline incessant where the hell are you? texts. And maybe it’s the two, no three, wait-four?-Hites he’s consumed out of boredom and needing something to do with his hands talking, but Jinyoung’s not sure how much longer he can stay glued to this couch.
He has to find Jackson. But first, bathroom.
With a grunt of effort, he stands to his feet, draining the last of his cup and setting it down on the end table beside him, and after checking his phone for any messages, he sighs in defeat and sets off through the house in search of a bathroom.
It’s not an easy journey through the maze of sweaty, thrumming bodies, but Jinyoung manages to make it to the second floor unscathed. He turns down a hallway to the left and sure enough he finds a bathroom on the first door.
He finds it strange there’s no line given the amount of people attending the party, but attributes it to dumb luck as he switches the light on and shuts the door behind him. He flips the toilet seat open, undoes his zipper and pulls himself out of his jeans, but just as he’s taking his aim, a sound like a moan echoes off the walls and he freezes in his tracks. Slowly and cautiously he turns his head, and that’s when he sees it; the man passed out cold in the bathtub.
Jinyoung nearly screams. There’s a dude in the fucking tub! A dude with long black hair that hangs messily over his eyes; thick black liner and countless piercings; sharp cheekbones, jutting jawline, and a nose only plastic surgeons could hope to replicate.
Okay, Jinyoung takes it back. There’s a ridiculously hot dude in the fucking tub. His lips are parted slightly, pink and plush like budding cherry blossoms, and as he stirs the cross shaped earrings hanging from his lobes dangle and glint against the fluorescent light.
Jinyoung doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone quite as attractive as this man, at least not in real life. Then again maybe this isn’t real life, maybe he’s dreaming, maybe someone slipped something into his drink while he wasn’t looking…
Another quiet moan snaps him from his thoughts, and when Jinyoung looks back, the man is now sitting up on his elbows, grimacing as he brings a hand to his forehead and rubs slow circles into his temples. His eyes flutter open slowly, squinting to adjust to the bright lights, and as he lifts his head, he turns and immediately locks gazes with Jinyoung.
His eyebrows dip in confusion as he takes in his surroundings, lips pulled down in a bewildered frown until his eyes travel lower down Jinyoung’s body. Then he smiles. “Nice.”
Jinyoung glances down to see what all the fuss is about, and with a shriek he realizes what a compromising position he’s put himself in. Face burning red, he quickly tucks himself back into his pants, zips himself up, and clears his throat as if it will somehow magically erase the now thick cloud of tension in the room.
“Aww,” the man pouts, leaning over the tub. “Why’d you do that? I was enjoying the view.”
Jinyoung wants to shrivel up and die. “I-what-what are you doing in the freaking tub?!”
The man frowns. “What are you doing staring at a guy with your dick out?” He narrows his eyes. “You’re not some kind of pervert are you?”
“No!” Jinyoung splutters, struggling to save face. “I was just-going to the bathroom!”
The man chuckles lowly, clearly amused by Jinyoung’s obvious embarrassment. But even then Jinyoung can’t help but think how hot it sounds. Maybe the man’s right. Maybe he is a pervert. “You’re cute,” the man says eventually, eyeing Jinyoung approvingly. “What’s your name?”
“J-Jinyoung,” the other stutters in reply, feeling vulnerable under the male’s intense gaze.
The man flashes a smile, pearly whites blinding in the glow of the bathroom light. Jinyoung forgets how to breathe. “Well, Jinyoung,” he says with emphasis on the name. “You mind giving me a hand here?”
He reaches out to Jinyoung, who does nothing but blink dumbly back before finally stepping forward to take the man’s hand and help him out of the tub. His hands are riddled with calluses, Jinyoung notes, rough and abrasive against his own. Jinyoung finds it oddly charming, wonders if there’s a story behind the toughened areas of skin. Perhaps he’s a carpenter, good with his hands, or a fireman constantly sliding down those poles, or maybe-
“Jinyoung?” The man’s voice startles him back to reality where he’s now completely out of the tub, standing in front of Jinyoung at full height. He’s just as tall as Jinyoung, if not just a bit taller, yet Jinyoung feels small next to the man’s broad shoulders and impressively toned physique. “Jinyoung, you can let go of my hand now.”
Jinyoung flinches and lets go. He hadn’t realized he’d still been holding it. “Sorry,” he mumbles into his shoulder, face heating up for what feels like the thousandth time. He’s surprised his skin hasn’t melted off by now.
The man simply smiles. “Don’t be,” and opens his mouth to say something more, but before he gets the chance the door swings open behind them and reveals a slender male with vibrant red hair.
Jinyoung has to do a double take because seriously? How many good looking people at this party are there?
The redhead looks exhausted, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, and as he steps into the room Jinyoung notes the harried look in his eyes. “There you are!” he says, voice ragged and breathless. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” He makes to grab the man’s arm, but in doing so finally notices Jinyoung standing next to him. He pauses. “Er…I’m not interrupting anything am I?”
“Mark,” the man says, smiling as he places a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder. “This is Jinyoung.”
Mark shoots him a strained smile, “That’s nice,” but doesn’t seem willing to waste time with small talk as he latches onto the man’s arm and starts pulling him towards the window. “We gotta go,” Jinyoung hears him say as the man makes a noise of complaint.
“But why?”
“I’ll explain later.”
He pushes him out of the window onto the roof and once they’re both through, Jinyoung peeks his head out to see Mark scurrying to the nearby trellis, the man close at his heels. Mark makes it down with no incident, signaling for the man to follow as he lands lightly on his feet, but just as the former reaches for the first rung, he pauses and turns his head to look back at Jinyoung.
“What are you waiting for?” Jinyoung hears Mark hiss below. “Let’s go.”
But the man gets up and heads in the opposite direction, back towards the window and a dumbfounded Jinyoung. He leans over the windowsill, rough, callused hands covering Jinyoung’s, and before he has time to react, lands a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Bye Jinyoung,” he says with a grin, throwing a wink over his shoulder before he sets off down the trellis and into the night with Mark.
Jinyoung watches them go with a wistful expression, lightly running a finger over his lower lip and wondering…
…what the hell just happened?
Five days later Jinyoung finds himself in another situation he’d rather not be, another place Jackson has dragged him to with another empty promise he’s bound to break. This time it’s a concert at some seedy bar/concert venue, the promise to have Jinyoung back by 11. But judging from the fact that it’s a quarter ‘til ten and the band has yet to come on, Jinyoung knows he can kiss his dreams of an A in Statistics goodbye.
“So what’s the name of this band anyways?” he asks after getting a drink from the bar. He figures he’ll need a couple to make it through tonight.
“Cocoon of Hatred,” Jackson answers.
Jinyoung thinks he’s joking until he sees a girl pass them wearing a shirt with the same name written in spidery white font. He chortles. “What happens when you break free from a cocoon of hatred? Do you become a butterfly of anger?”
Jackson gives him a bored look. “Honestly I can’t believe you’ve never heard of them. Their song Mammoth Suicide is like #1 in the UK.”
Jinyoung nearly chokes on his drink. “Mammoth what?”
But his voice is drowned out by the sudden uproar from the crowd as the lights dim and five men take the stage.
The drummer raises his sticks to count out the beat, one, two, three, four, and then the guitarist starts up a riff and the stage erupts in a brilliant display of blues and yellows. Jinyoung’s eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the glaring lights, and when they do, his jaw drops. There on the stage, front and center, looking like a god in the halo of light, is the man from the party last Friday. The redhead, Mark, is there too, to his right striking chords on his Fender Strat, but Jinyoung hardly spares him a glance, his attention completely captivated by the man in the center. Even in a white t-shirt and jeans, he looks absolutely stunning. He smiles at the crowd, sending the women (and admittedly Jinyoung as well) into a bout of hysterics, then takes up his guitar and steps toward the mic.
Jinyoung finds himself in a trance the minute he starts singing, his voice smooth and sweet, every lyric filled with passion and raw emotion. Jinyoung thinks he could listen to it all day.
“Who’s that?” he asks Jackson, pointing to the man on stage.
Jackson raises a brow. “You mean the lead singer? That’s JB.”
“JB,” Jinyoung repeats under his breath, staring dreamily as the man looks out into the crowd, brown eyes shining in the overhead lights as he smiles and winks. And it could just be wishful thinking but Jinyoung swears he’s staring right at him.
The band goes on to play for an hour and a half before they leave the stage. Jinyoung has to admit that despite their ridiculous name, their songs are extremely catchy. He’d found himself bobbing his head and swaying along to nearly every song, even screaming a little when JB had shed his leather jacket halfway through the show.
He hadn’t expected to enjoy himself so much, but as he and Jackson leave the concert to head to another bar he can’t help but feel sad it’s all over. Even sadder is the fact that after tonight, Jinyoung probably won’t ever see JB again.
When Jinyoung and Jackson arrive at the bar, the first thing Jinyoung does is head to the bathroom. He feels grimy from the concert, dried sweat clinging uncomfortably to his skin and though what he really needs is a shower, he figures he can make do with some wet paper towels. Just as he pushes the door open though, he collides into something solid.
“Sorry,” he mutters on instinct, bowing his head in apology to the stranger. Or not so stranger he realizes when he lifts his head to meet his eyes.
“Jinyoung?” JB’s face lights up in recognition as he smirks. “God, we have got to stop meeting like this.”
“You-” Jinyoung stutters, scarcely believing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” JB says. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were following me.”
Jinyoung’s mouth drops open, looking like a fish out of water as he sputters, “N-no! I-I wasn’t-”
“Relax,” JB cuts him off with a laugh. “I’m only kidding.” He takes a step back, leaning against one of the sinks, and pulls a cigarette and lighter from his back pocket. He places the cigarette between his lips, lights it and takes a long drag. “I saw you at the show earlier,” he says. “What’d you think?”
Jinyoung smiles. So he had been looking at him. “It was great,” he says, blushing slightly when he adds, “You…you were great.”
JB looks flattered. “You should have this then.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a guitar pick, pressing it into the palm of Jinyoung’s hand. “A souvenir to remember the greatest night of your life.”
Jinyoung scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well the night’s still young,” he says, getting up from the sink and crushing his cigarette beneath his feet. “I have plenty of time to change your mind.”
Jinyoung hasn’t the slightest idea what he’s getting at, but before he can do anything to stop it (he’s not even sure he wants to), the latter has him up against a wall, lips pressed firmly to his with a hand at the back of his neck.
This is not at all like the first kiss they shared, more tongue, more teeth, lots of saliva concocting together as JB licks into his mouth.
“JB,” Jinyoung pants when he pulls away, eyes half-lidded and gasping for air.
JB’s eyes look like opaque black orbs as he stares back at him. “Jaebum,” he mutters against Jinyoung’s lips. “Call me Jaebum. My fans call me JB.”
“Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, but it’s swallowed up in a gasp when Jaebum slides a hand up his shirt and rubs a thumb over Jinyoung’s nipple.
Jaebum chuckles, looking smug. “Change your mind yet?”
Jinyoung fists his hands in the collar of his shirt and silences him with another kiss.
Hands on Jinyoung’s hips, Jaebum slides them around to grope his ass and bring him closer, grind against him until Jinyoung is a moaning, incoherent mess. He presses his lips to the underside of Jinyoung’s jaw, down the column of his neck to the junction of his shoulder, then sucks a mark into the sensitive skin.
“Jinyoung.” A shiver goes down his spine as Jaebum’s hot breath ghosts over his ear. “Come home with me.”
And Jinyoung doesn’t think about Jackson, or school, or the fact that he hardly even knows this man as he nods his head and lets Jaebum lead him out of the bar.
It’s an exercise in self-control as they make their way down the streets in Jaebum’s sleek black Camaro. Every muscle in Jinyoung’s body wants to leap across the divider into Jaebum’s lap and ride him until they both get off, but something tells him that’s a bad idea when Jaebum is driving so recklessly, speeding through red lights and weaving across lanes. Jinyoung can’t deny it only turns him on more.
Despite the reckless driving though, they make it to the apartment relatively unscathed (relatively because Jinyoung had had to ball his hands into fists at his sides to keep from touching Jaebum, and now his palms are covered in angry red, crescent shaped marks).
Jaebum doesn’t waste time and pounces on him as soon as the elevator doors close, attaching his lips to every inch of Jinyoung’s exposed skin. Jinyoung works his hand down Jaebum’s pants, palms at his clothed erection until the doors slide open and they’re forced to come apart.
Jaebum tugs him down the hall, cursing as he fumbles with his keys, and then Jinyoung is being yanked into his apartment, pressed against the door with Jaebum’s hands cupping his face, kissing him with a ferocity that leaves him breathless.
Jaebum pulls Jinyoung’s shirt over his head, helps him out of his jeans and shoes, and only when Jinyoung is left shivering in his boxer briefs does he realize Jaebum is still fully clothed.
“No fair,” he pouts, to which Jaebum chuckles and pulls his own shirt over his head.
“There,” he says. “Better?”
As Jinyoung takes in the sight of his exposed upper body-the broad shoulders, toned arms, flat stomach and inked black writing scrawled artfully across his ribs-he nearly chokes. No, this isn’t better. This is overwhelming. This is-
Jinyoung yelps when Jaebum lifts him up and carries him to the bedroom. He lays him down on the bed and climbs atop him, swooping down to circle his tongue around a pert nipple. Jinyoung gasps and arches off the bed, fingers diving into the jungle of Jaebum’s hair and silently pleading for more. Jaebum obliges by pulling his underwear off and fisting a hand around his cock, expertly stroking while trailing open mouthed kisses down his stomach. When he gets to the end he licks a fat stripe up the underside of his dick, swallows around the head, then pulls back off.
Jinyoung shudders and releases a sigh. “Jaebum?”
“Yes?”
“Please fuck me.”
“Shh.” Jaebum presses a finger to his lips. “Soon.” He reaches behind Jinyoung and pulls a bottle of lube from a drawer on the nightstand, coats his fingers with the gel, and with a hand wrapped around Jinyoung’s dick, eases one inside him.
Jinyoung winces and Jaebum kisses him sweetly, telling him to relax, breathe in and out, while still lazily pumping his cock. He adds a second, then third, and by the fourth Jinyoung is writhing beneath him, leaking precome and all but fucking himself against Jaebum’s fingers.
Jaebum sees this and pulls out, leaving Jinyoung wanting as he shucks off his jeans and boxers. He slicks himself up with lube and all the while Jinyoung can’t help but think what a nice dick he has. When he finally slides inside though, Jinyoung’s mind goes completely blank.
He doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this, filled so completely, drowning in pure pleasure as Jaebum starts up a rhythm with his hips.
“Harder,” Jinyoung pants, bucking up to meet Jaebum’s thrusts.
Jaebum puts his hands on Jinyoung’s hips and lifts him slightly off the bed, violently slamming into him.
Jinyoung cries out. “Jaebum!”
Jaebum grunts, “Fuck you’re so hot,” continuing to pound relentlessly into him. He fucks Jinyoung with a brutal rhythm, hands on his hips gripping tight enough to leave bruises, but Jinyoung hardly minds. His body is practically thrumming, senses on overload each time Jaebum hits that bundle of nerves that bring him closer and closer to his peak.
Jinyoung doesn’t think he’s going to last like this. But then Jaebum pulls him up and slots their mouths together, works a hand between them and rubs the head of his penis until Jinyoung sees stars, crying out Jaebum’s name as he comes over the other’s fingers and stomach.
Jaebum pulls out and pushes him back onto the bed, sitting on his stomach and jerking himself off in quick, spastic strokes before coming in stripes across Jinyoung’s nose and cheek.
Jinyoung darts his tongue out to lick what he can off his cheek and Jaebum looks like he’s going to faint. “Fuck,” he says, collapsing next to him. A bead of sweat trickles down his hairline and onto his cheek. Jinyoung resists the urge to lick that too.
“Does this make me a groupie?” Jinyoung asks after they’ve cleaned themselves off, nestled snug in the crook of Jaebum’s arm.
Jaebum laughs and shakes his head. “No. Groupies don’t spend the night.” He leans down and tilts Jinyoung’s head up, meeting their lips in a soft kiss. “I want you to spend every night with me.”
Recipient: pink_panda_baby
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,400
Warning(s): none
Summary: When Jinyoung ends up at a frat party on a Friday night, the last thing he expects is to meet a rock star.
A/N: Dear recipient, I wanted to write you so much more but my procrastination and poor time management unfortunately got in the way. I promise to grant you a sequel/extended version should you request it ^^
Jinyoung can think of about a million other places he’d rather be right now; Friday night, 1AM, sipping on cheap beer on some stranger’s tattered couch. He should be in his room watching Netflix, marathoning Twin Peaks or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, organizing his closet or reading Catcher in the Rye for the fifth time. But no. Jinyoung just had to be a pushover, just had to let Jackson drag him to some frat party on the other side of campus with the promise of staying by his side the entire night.
Jinyoung should’ve known better than to trust him, should’ve known he’d slink away the minute he laid eyes on the bubbly, buxom blond from Social Psych. In the end he has no one but himself to blame really.
So now here he is, awkward and alone, trying to look less pathetic by keeping busy on his phone as he waits for Jackson to find him and tell him he’s ready to leave.
Two beers and thirty minutes later though, Jinyoung is becoming restless. He hasn’t heard from Jackson in hours, not so much as a simple hey I’m fine. no one’s murdered me to his borderline incessant where the hell are you? texts. And maybe it’s the two, no three, wait-four?-Hites he’s consumed out of boredom and needing something to do with his hands talking, but Jinyoung’s not sure how much longer he can stay glued to this couch.
He has to find Jackson. But first, bathroom.
With a grunt of effort, he stands to his feet, draining the last of his cup and setting it down on the end table beside him, and after checking his phone for any messages, he sighs in defeat and sets off through the house in search of a bathroom.
It’s not an easy journey through the maze of sweaty, thrumming bodies, but Jinyoung manages to make it to the second floor unscathed. He turns down a hallway to the left and sure enough he finds a bathroom on the first door.
He finds it strange there’s no line given the amount of people attending the party, but attributes it to dumb luck as he switches the light on and shuts the door behind him. He flips the toilet seat open, undoes his zipper and pulls himself out of his jeans, but just as he’s taking his aim, a sound like a moan echoes off the walls and he freezes in his tracks. Slowly and cautiously he turns his head, and that’s when he sees it; the man passed out cold in the bathtub.
Jinyoung nearly screams. There’s a dude in the fucking tub! A dude with long black hair that hangs messily over his eyes; thick black liner and countless piercings; sharp cheekbones, jutting jawline, and a nose only plastic surgeons could hope to replicate.
Okay, Jinyoung takes it back. There’s a ridiculously hot dude in the fucking tub. His lips are parted slightly, pink and plush like budding cherry blossoms, and as he stirs the cross shaped earrings hanging from his lobes dangle and glint against the fluorescent light.
Jinyoung doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone quite as attractive as this man, at least not in real life. Then again maybe this isn’t real life, maybe he’s dreaming, maybe someone slipped something into his drink while he wasn’t looking…
Another quiet moan snaps him from his thoughts, and when Jinyoung looks back, the man is now sitting up on his elbows, grimacing as he brings a hand to his forehead and rubs slow circles into his temples. His eyes flutter open slowly, squinting to adjust to the bright lights, and as he lifts his head, he turns and immediately locks gazes with Jinyoung.
His eyebrows dip in confusion as he takes in his surroundings, lips pulled down in a bewildered frown until his eyes travel lower down Jinyoung’s body. Then he smiles. “Nice.”
Jinyoung glances down to see what all the fuss is about, and with a shriek he realizes what a compromising position he’s put himself in. Face burning red, he quickly tucks himself back into his pants, zips himself up, and clears his throat as if it will somehow magically erase the now thick cloud of tension in the room.
“Aww,” the man pouts, leaning over the tub. “Why’d you do that? I was enjoying the view.”
Jinyoung wants to shrivel up and die. “I-what-what are you doing in the freaking tub?!”
The man frowns. “What are you doing staring at a guy with your dick out?” He narrows his eyes. “You’re not some kind of pervert are you?”
“No!” Jinyoung splutters, struggling to save face. “I was just-going to the bathroom!”
The man chuckles lowly, clearly amused by Jinyoung’s obvious embarrassment. But even then Jinyoung can’t help but think how hot it sounds. Maybe the man’s right. Maybe he is a pervert. “You’re cute,” the man says eventually, eyeing Jinyoung approvingly. “What’s your name?”
“J-Jinyoung,” the other stutters in reply, feeling vulnerable under the male’s intense gaze.
The man flashes a smile, pearly whites blinding in the glow of the bathroom light. Jinyoung forgets how to breathe. “Well, Jinyoung,” he says with emphasis on the name. “You mind giving me a hand here?”
He reaches out to Jinyoung, who does nothing but blink dumbly back before finally stepping forward to take the man’s hand and help him out of the tub. His hands are riddled with calluses, Jinyoung notes, rough and abrasive against his own. Jinyoung finds it oddly charming, wonders if there’s a story behind the toughened areas of skin. Perhaps he’s a carpenter, good with his hands, or a fireman constantly sliding down those poles, or maybe-
“Jinyoung?” The man’s voice startles him back to reality where he’s now completely out of the tub, standing in front of Jinyoung at full height. He’s just as tall as Jinyoung, if not just a bit taller, yet Jinyoung feels small next to the man’s broad shoulders and impressively toned physique. “Jinyoung, you can let go of my hand now.”
Jinyoung flinches and lets go. He hadn’t realized he’d still been holding it. “Sorry,” he mumbles into his shoulder, face heating up for what feels like the thousandth time. He’s surprised his skin hasn’t melted off by now.
The man simply smiles. “Don’t be,” and opens his mouth to say something more, but before he gets the chance the door swings open behind them and reveals a slender male with vibrant red hair.
Jinyoung has to do a double take because seriously? How many good looking people at this party are there?
The redhead looks exhausted, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, and as he steps into the room Jinyoung notes the harried look in his eyes. “There you are!” he says, voice ragged and breathless. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” He makes to grab the man’s arm, but in doing so finally notices Jinyoung standing next to him. He pauses. “Er…I’m not interrupting anything am I?”
“Mark,” the man says, smiling as he places a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder. “This is Jinyoung.”
Mark shoots him a strained smile, “That’s nice,” but doesn’t seem willing to waste time with small talk as he latches onto the man’s arm and starts pulling him towards the window. “We gotta go,” Jinyoung hears him say as the man makes a noise of complaint.
“But why?”
“I’ll explain later.”
He pushes him out of the window onto the roof and once they’re both through, Jinyoung peeks his head out to see Mark scurrying to the nearby trellis, the man close at his heels. Mark makes it down with no incident, signaling for the man to follow as he lands lightly on his feet, but just as the former reaches for the first rung, he pauses and turns his head to look back at Jinyoung.
“What are you waiting for?” Jinyoung hears Mark hiss below. “Let’s go.”
But the man gets up and heads in the opposite direction, back towards the window and a dumbfounded Jinyoung. He leans over the windowsill, rough, callused hands covering Jinyoung’s, and before he has time to react, lands a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Bye Jinyoung,” he says with a grin, throwing a wink over his shoulder before he sets off down the trellis and into the night with Mark.
Jinyoung watches them go with a wistful expression, lightly running a finger over his lower lip and wondering…
…what the hell just happened?
Five days later Jinyoung finds himself in another situation he’d rather not be, another place Jackson has dragged him to with another empty promise he’s bound to break. This time it’s a concert at some seedy bar/concert venue, the promise to have Jinyoung back by 11. But judging from the fact that it’s a quarter ‘til ten and the band has yet to come on, Jinyoung knows he can kiss his dreams of an A in Statistics goodbye.
“So what’s the name of this band anyways?” he asks after getting a drink from the bar. He figures he’ll need a couple to make it through tonight.
“Cocoon of Hatred,” Jackson answers.
Jinyoung thinks he’s joking until he sees a girl pass them wearing a shirt with the same name written in spidery white font. He chortles. “What happens when you break free from a cocoon of hatred? Do you become a butterfly of anger?”
Jackson gives him a bored look. “Honestly I can’t believe you’ve never heard of them. Their song Mammoth Suicide is like #1 in the UK.”
Jinyoung nearly chokes on his drink. “Mammoth what?”
But his voice is drowned out by the sudden uproar from the crowd as the lights dim and five men take the stage.
The drummer raises his sticks to count out the beat, one, two, three, four, and then the guitarist starts up a riff and the stage erupts in a brilliant display of blues and yellows. Jinyoung’s eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the glaring lights, and when they do, his jaw drops. There on the stage, front and center, looking like a god in the halo of light, is the man from the party last Friday. The redhead, Mark, is there too, to his right striking chords on his Fender Strat, but Jinyoung hardly spares him a glance, his attention completely captivated by the man in the center. Even in a white t-shirt and jeans, he looks absolutely stunning. He smiles at the crowd, sending the women (and admittedly Jinyoung as well) into a bout of hysterics, then takes up his guitar and steps toward the mic.
Jinyoung finds himself in a trance the minute he starts singing, his voice smooth and sweet, every lyric filled with passion and raw emotion. Jinyoung thinks he could listen to it all day.
“Who’s that?” he asks Jackson, pointing to the man on stage.
Jackson raises a brow. “You mean the lead singer? That’s JB.”
“JB,” Jinyoung repeats under his breath, staring dreamily as the man looks out into the crowd, brown eyes shining in the overhead lights as he smiles and winks. And it could just be wishful thinking but Jinyoung swears he’s staring right at him.
The band goes on to play for an hour and a half before they leave the stage. Jinyoung has to admit that despite their ridiculous name, their songs are extremely catchy. He’d found himself bobbing his head and swaying along to nearly every song, even screaming a little when JB had shed his leather jacket halfway through the show.
He hadn’t expected to enjoy himself so much, but as he and Jackson leave the concert to head to another bar he can’t help but feel sad it’s all over. Even sadder is the fact that after tonight, Jinyoung probably won’t ever see JB again.
When Jinyoung and Jackson arrive at the bar, the first thing Jinyoung does is head to the bathroom. He feels grimy from the concert, dried sweat clinging uncomfortably to his skin and though what he really needs is a shower, he figures he can make do with some wet paper towels. Just as he pushes the door open though, he collides into something solid.
“Sorry,” he mutters on instinct, bowing his head in apology to the stranger. Or not so stranger he realizes when he lifts his head to meet his eyes.
“Jinyoung?” JB’s face lights up in recognition as he smirks. “God, we have got to stop meeting like this.”
“You-” Jinyoung stutters, scarcely believing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” JB says. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were following me.”
Jinyoung’s mouth drops open, looking like a fish out of water as he sputters, “N-no! I-I wasn’t-”
“Relax,” JB cuts him off with a laugh. “I’m only kidding.” He takes a step back, leaning against one of the sinks, and pulls a cigarette and lighter from his back pocket. He places the cigarette between his lips, lights it and takes a long drag. “I saw you at the show earlier,” he says. “What’d you think?”
Jinyoung smiles. So he had been looking at him. “It was great,” he says, blushing slightly when he adds, “You…you were great.”
JB looks flattered. “You should have this then.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a guitar pick, pressing it into the palm of Jinyoung’s hand. “A souvenir to remember the greatest night of your life.”
Jinyoung scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well the night’s still young,” he says, getting up from the sink and crushing his cigarette beneath his feet. “I have plenty of time to change your mind.”
Jinyoung hasn’t the slightest idea what he’s getting at, but before he can do anything to stop it (he’s not even sure he wants to), the latter has him up against a wall, lips pressed firmly to his with a hand at the back of his neck.
This is not at all like the first kiss they shared, more tongue, more teeth, lots of saliva concocting together as JB licks into his mouth.
“JB,” Jinyoung pants when he pulls away, eyes half-lidded and gasping for air.
JB’s eyes look like opaque black orbs as he stares back at him. “Jaebum,” he mutters against Jinyoung’s lips. “Call me Jaebum. My fans call me JB.”
“Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, but it’s swallowed up in a gasp when Jaebum slides a hand up his shirt and rubs a thumb over Jinyoung’s nipple.
Jaebum chuckles, looking smug. “Change your mind yet?”
Jinyoung fists his hands in the collar of his shirt and silences him with another kiss.
Hands on Jinyoung’s hips, Jaebum slides them around to grope his ass and bring him closer, grind against him until Jinyoung is a moaning, incoherent mess. He presses his lips to the underside of Jinyoung’s jaw, down the column of his neck to the junction of his shoulder, then sucks a mark into the sensitive skin.
“Jinyoung.” A shiver goes down his spine as Jaebum’s hot breath ghosts over his ear. “Come home with me.”
And Jinyoung doesn’t think about Jackson, or school, or the fact that he hardly even knows this man as he nods his head and lets Jaebum lead him out of the bar.
It’s an exercise in self-control as they make their way down the streets in Jaebum’s sleek black Camaro. Every muscle in Jinyoung’s body wants to leap across the divider into Jaebum’s lap and ride him until they both get off, but something tells him that’s a bad idea when Jaebum is driving so recklessly, speeding through red lights and weaving across lanes. Jinyoung can’t deny it only turns him on more.
Despite the reckless driving though, they make it to the apartment relatively unscathed (relatively because Jinyoung had had to ball his hands into fists at his sides to keep from touching Jaebum, and now his palms are covered in angry red, crescent shaped marks).
Jaebum doesn’t waste time and pounces on him as soon as the elevator doors close, attaching his lips to every inch of Jinyoung’s exposed skin. Jinyoung works his hand down Jaebum’s pants, palms at his clothed erection until the doors slide open and they’re forced to come apart.
Jaebum tugs him down the hall, cursing as he fumbles with his keys, and then Jinyoung is being yanked into his apartment, pressed against the door with Jaebum’s hands cupping his face, kissing him with a ferocity that leaves him breathless.
Jaebum pulls Jinyoung’s shirt over his head, helps him out of his jeans and shoes, and only when Jinyoung is left shivering in his boxer briefs does he realize Jaebum is still fully clothed.
“No fair,” he pouts, to which Jaebum chuckles and pulls his own shirt over his head.
“There,” he says. “Better?”
As Jinyoung takes in the sight of his exposed upper body-the broad shoulders, toned arms, flat stomach and inked black writing scrawled artfully across his ribs-he nearly chokes. No, this isn’t better. This is overwhelming. This is-
Jinyoung yelps when Jaebum lifts him up and carries him to the bedroom. He lays him down on the bed and climbs atop him, swooping down to circle his tongue around a pert nipple. Jinyoung gasps and arches off the bed, fingers diving into the jungle of Jaebum’s hair and silently pleading for more. Jaebum obliges by pulling his underwear off and fisting a hand around his cock, expertly stroking while trailing open mouthed kisses down his stomach. When he gets to the end he licks a fat stripe up the underside of his dick, swallows around the head, then pulls back off.
Jinyoung shudders and releases a sigh. “Jaebum?”
“Yes?”
“Please fuck me.”
“Shh.” Jaebum presses a finger to his lips. “Soon.” He reaches behind Jinyoung and pulls a bottle of lube from a drawer on the nightstand, coats his fingers with the gel, and with a hand wrapped around Jinyoung’s dick, eases one inside him.
Jinyoung winces and Jaebum kisses him sweetly, telling him to relax, breathe in and out, while still lazily pumping his cock. He adds a second, then third, and by the fourth Jinyoung is writhing beneath him, leaking precome and all but fucking himself against Jaebum’s fingers.
Jaebum sees this and pulls out, leaving Jinyoung wanting as he shucks off his jeans and boxers. He slicks himself up with lube and all the while Jinyoung can’t help but think what a nice dick he has. When he finally slides inside though, Jinyoung’s mind goes completely blank.
He doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this, filled so completely, drowning in pure pleasure as Jaebum starts up a rhythm with his hips.
“Harder,” Jinyoung pants, bucking up to meet Jaebum’s thrusts.
Jaebum puts his hands on Jinyoung’s hips and lifts him slightly off the bed, violently slamming into him.
Jinyoung cries out. “Jaebum!”
Jaebum grunts, “Fuck you’re so hot,” continuing to pound relentlessly into him. He fucks Jinyoung with a brutal rhythm, hands on his hips gripping tight enough to leave bruises, but Jinyoung hardly minds. His body is practically thrumming, senses on overload each time Jaebum hits that bundle of nerves that bring him closer and closer to his peak.
Jinyoung doesn’t think he’s going to last like this. But then Jaebum pulls him up and slots their mouths together, works a hand between them and rubs the head of his penis until Jinyoung sees stars, crying out Jaebum’s name as he comes over the other’s fingers and stomach.
Jaebum pulls out and pushes him back onto the bed, sitting on his stomach and jerking himself off in quick, spastic strokes before coming in stripes across Jinyoung’s nose and cheek.
Jinyoung darts his tongue out to lick what he can off his cheek and Jaebum looks like he’s going to faint. “Fuck,” he says, collapsing next to him. A bead of sweat trickles down his hairline and onto his cheek. Jinyoung resists the urge to lick that too.
“Does this make me a groupie?” Jinyoung asks after they’ve cleaned themselves off, nestled snug in the crook of Jaebum’s arm.
Jaebum laughs and shakes his head. “No. Groupies don’t spend the night.” He leans down and tilts Jinyoung’s head up, meeting their lips in a soft kiss. “I want you to spend every night with me.”