[one shot] hungry for you
Title: hungry for you
Pairing: Jr./Youngjae
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~5.9k
Summary: Shy, virginal Youngjae meets Jinyoung in a club, and they form a connection. After weeks of chaste touches, he worries that Jinyoung doesn't want to get physical with him, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
Warning:[spoilers]Character death, brief references to disordered eating, body image issues, and bullying
A/N: Inspiration for this was taken from the song ‘Desire’ by Meg Myers.
“Hyung! Youngjae-hyung! Look, that hot guy in the white shirt is still staring at you. He’s totally eyeing you up,” Bambam thumps Youngjae on the shoulder, shouting to be heard above the pounding baseline.
Youngjae looks up from his overpriced glass of cranberry juice to shoot the younger man a disbelieving look. In the last fifteen minutes alone, Bambam has gulped down so much alcohol that he’s probably just seeing things. Even if there is a man in a white shirt standing where his wobbly finger is pointing, he probably wouldn’t be interested in Youngjae.
“I’m serious, look!”
For the sake for his shoulder, Youngjae concedes and looks at the section of the packed club that Bambam has been gesturing to for the past thirty seconds. Youngjae carefully scans the area, but the only ‘hot guy in a white shirt’ that he can spot is attached at the hip-and the lips-to another man. As much as Bambam can get a bit carried away with the pranks he and Yugyeom like to pull on Youngjae, he doubts that this is one of those times.
“Here, have some water,” Youngjae holds up a now lukewarm glass of water.
“That’s funny, he’s gone now. I swear he was there before,” Bambam slurs. Youngjae presses the glass to the younger man’s lips. Bambam takes a sip and pulls a face. “Ugh, did that come from a tap?”
“Bottle or tap, it’ll help with your inevitable hangover,” Youngjae shrugs. “Finish the glass. I’m gonna go check on Yugyeom, I think it’s been far too long since he left for the bathroom.”
“He probably just fell asleep on the toilet again,” Bambam scoffs before throwing his head back in a cackle, spilling about a third of the water down the front of his shirt.
Youngjae hesitates, wondering if it’s really alright to leave Bambam on his own while Youngjae goes to find Yugyeom. For a second, he considers dragging Bambam along with him, but the thought of having to drag both Yugyeom and Bambam back from the toilet kills that thought.
“I’ll be right back. Just sit here and drink your water, okay?”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” Bambam salutes carelessly as he sinks into the plush leather seat of the booth.
Stepping out onto the dancefloor, Youngjae is immediately swallowed up by a wave of writhing bodies. He’s forced to hold what little breath he has left in his lungs as he desperately pushes his way to the corner of the room that houses the men’s toilets. He cringes as liquid splashes on his arm and rolls down his finger. It feels too cool to be somebody else’s sweat and too light to be somebody else’s vomit, but he won’t be able to check until he makes it out of the crush.
When he finally makes it to the less crowed perimeter of the dancefloor, Youngjae gulps down a sweet lungful of slightly less stale air. The liquid on his arm has been mostly wiped off, but the remnants appear to be both colourless and odourless. Probably water, then. With a shrug, Youngjae heads inside the bathroom.
“Yugyeom? Kim Yugyeom, are you in here?”
The only response he gets is a quick glance from a man swaying on his feet at a urinal, but Youngjae knows that’s not his charge from his height and hair colour. Two of the five stalls are locked, and Youngjae knocks on both, calling out Yugyeom’s name. Door number one swings open a second after he knocks, revealing a sour-faced man who shoulder checks Youngjae on his way out. The person behind door number two gives no reply, but his shoes are different from the ones Yugyeom wore to the club.
“Yugyeom, where did you get to?” Youngjae mumbles under his breath as he fishes his mobile phone out of his pocket, quickly dialling the younger man’s number. Youngjae doesn’t really expect Yugyeom to be able to hear his phone, but at the very least, he might be able to feel its vibrations in his pocket. Youngjae begins to anxiously pick at the cuticle of his thumb when the Yugyeom’s phone goes to voicemail.
“Come on, you’ve got to still have your phone on you,” he mumbles around his bottom lip as he redials the number.
“Are you calling the drycleaner? I don’t think they’ll be open now, friend.”
Youngjae looks up when he gets sent to voicemail for the third time to see a man drunkenly stumble out of the other stall. “What?”
The man chuckles, swaying slightly on his feet, before he points his finger down at Youngjae’s crotch. To Youngjae’s surprise, there’s a large dark spot just to the left side of his inner thigh.
“Looks like you had too much to drink.”
“N-no, that-that’s not what happened!” Youngjae nearly drops his phone in his haste to cover the wet spot with his hands.
The man simply throws back his head in laughter. He’s joined by the man at the urinal, who’s now washing his hands and guffawing.
“No! Someone…they-they must’ve spilled their drink on me,” Youngjae insists through trembling lips.
Once again he’s the awkward, chubby fifteen year old, pleading with his classmates not to throw his schoolbag into the river…
“I didn’t wet myself!”
…or shave his head.
“Stop…”
But they just keep laughing.
The bathroom briefly explodes with the sound of house music before relative silence returns. Youngjae draws upon the words of Doctor Shin and takes deep, even breaths, focusing on nothing but his own heartbeat. Ten breaths and he loosens his vicelike grip on his phone. Sixteen breaths and his jaw unclenches. At thirty one breaths, Youngjae is just about ready to open his eyes and face the world again.
“Boo!”
“Ahhh!” Youngjae leaps back, tripping over his feet and going crashing into a stall door. Pain immediately explodes in the back of his head.
“Please forgive me, I only intended to surprise you a little.” Youngjae blinks his eyes open, wincing at the harsh fluorescent lighting, at the sound of a warm, concerned voice. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“My head hurts,” Youngjae groans weakly.
“I’m really sorry,” the man before him gently caresses the sore spot on the back of Youngjae’s head.
Youngjae blinks, his eyes readjusting to the light, as he takes in his unwitting assailant. Now, with two good friends in the modelling industry, Youngjae is no stranger to hanging around incredibly attractive people. The man before him could easily fit in with Jackson and Bambam’s co-workers. His glossy jet black hair is gelled in a 4:5 side part that highlight his glowing chocolate brown eyes. His pink lips are pulled back in a kind smile, revealing his perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth. He even smells as good as he looks; Youngjae catches himself leaning forward to get a better whiff of the clean, masculine scent wafting off him.
“Hello,” the handsome stranger’s smile widens into a grin that makes the skin around his eyes fold and crinkle in the most endearing way.
“Hi,” Youngjae breathes, finally coming back to himself.
“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you’re going to start humping each other right outside my stall. I swear, I’ll hit you both with this door if you dare try it!”
Youngjae sits up in shock at the words emanating from the door he’s slumped against.
“Hardly. A public toilet is no place for such things,” the handsome stranger scoffs.
“Tell that to all the other drunk twenty somethings that frequent clubs,” the man behind the door shoots back.
The thought of drunk young people suddenly jots Youngjae’s memory as to the reason why he came to the bathroom in the first place. “Yugyeom!”
“What is it?” the handsome stranger frowns as Youngjae leaps to his feet.
“My friend. He’s lost and I’m trying to find him.”
“Hey, calm down, I’m sure he’s alright. Try calling his phone.”
Youngjae wants to scream that he already tried that-three times-but he swallows the words at the last second. The guy is only trying to be helpful; there’s no point in biting his head off.
“Okay,” Youngjae nods and dials the number again, for lack of anything better to think of.
“Youngjae!”
“Jackson?!” Youngjae does a double take when he hears the older man’s voice through the line. Briefly, he wonders if he’s dialled the wrong number. “Hyung, why do you have Yugyeom’s phone?”
“Yugyeom is currently busy lining up shots with Bambam. Why aren’t you here helping with that, by the way? Get your ass back to the booth, it’s time to really get this party started!”
“So, he’s safe?” Youngjae feels something in his chest relax. Something moves in his peripheral vision and he looks up to see the good-looking stranger flash him a thumbs up. Youngjae returns the gesture.
“Yeah, perfectly,” Jackson says with a hint of confusion in his voice. “Well, he’s probably gonna be hurting like hell tomorrow morning, but that’s a worry for the future.”
“Oh, well…” Youngjae winces at the thought of having his headache exacerbated with liquor and loud music.
“Speak up, dude, I can’t hear you!”
“Actually…Actually, I’m going to head out now.”
“No way! You can’t leave yet, I just got here! Come on, don’t be so boring.”
Youngjae’s shoulders slump. The older man almost certainly has no idea that his words are reminding Youngjae of the ‘friends’ who tried to cajole him into shoplifting. He jumps a bit when the phone is pulled out of his hand.
“Is there a problem?” the handsome stranger speaks into the line. After a short pause he says, “I’m the man Youngjae is going to be leaving with.”
“What?”
“What?!” Jackson screeches so loudly that Youngjae can hear him.
“You heard me, so don’t be a cockblock.”
Youngjae’s mouth falls open and he gapes when the phone is pushed back into his hands.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re actually gonna hook up with someone?! You?!”
“Yeah, okay, I’m hanging up now,” Youngjae blurts out, his cheeks warm.
“Make sure you use a condom!” Jackson chirps just before the line goes dead.
“Well, that tactic certainly did its job,” the handsome stranger chuckles.
“Uh, yeah, right. It worked,” Youngjae mumbles, something like disappointment making his stomach sink.
“What’s the matter?” the handsome stranger tilts his head.
“It’s just…um, what’s your name?” ‘Handsome stranger’ is getting kind of tedious.
“Handsome, eh?”
Paradoxically, Youngjae’s face burns while his blood runs cold with shock.
“My name is Jinyoung, but I don’t mind ‘handsome stranger’,” Jinyoung winks.
A toilet flushing is all the warning Youngjae gets before the door to the bathroom stall swings out and knocks his arm.
“I told you,” a middle aged man says pointedly as he heads to the sink to wash his hands.
“We weren’t-” Youngjae’s protest falls on deaf ears. The man just stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
“I think it’s about time we left this place. A public toilet is no place for a date,” Jinyoung chuckles.
“Date?”
“If I may be so presumptuous. I like you. I feel drawn to you.”
“Really?” Youngjae’s eyes widen. He’s mostly elated at the other man’s words, but a small voice in the back of his head whispers doubt that someone like Jinyoung couldn’t genuinely be interested in someone like him; Youngjae shakes his head to silence the voice.
“I’m glad to hear that, but…just to make it clear, we’re not actually going to…you know, tonight,” Youngjae stammers, his tongue twisting around in his mouth as he reaches for the words.
“No, no, don’t misunderstand. We’ve only just met, it’s much too soon for that,” Jinyoung holds up his hands and shakes his head. “But, hopefully, we could exchange phone numbers?”
“Yeah, of course, sure,” Youngjae nods, already unlocking his phone.
They exchange numbers, and then Jinyoung escorts Youngjae out of the club-nearly giving Youngjae a heart attack when he casually wraps his arm around Youngjae’s waist. The weather widget on his phone tells Youngjae that the outside temperature has dropped a few degrees since he entered the club, but he hardly takes note of it with Jinyoung pressed so close to him. Although Youngjae isn’t one for one night stands, he can’t help but feel a pang of regret when he and Jinyoung have to head separate ways at the train station.
“Um, well, I guess this is goodbye for now. It was nice to meet you,” Youngjae tentatively holds out his hand.
Jinyoung grasps Youngjae’s hand and lifts it to his lips. “Text me when you get home so I know that you’re alright,” he presses a soft kiss into the back of Youngjae’s hand.
“Yes! Uh, yeah, I will” Youngjae nods, his hand tingling as he lets it drop back to his side.
“Goodnight, Youngjae,” Jinyoung smiles warmly.
“Later!” Youngjae turns and dashes up to the platform where his train is pulling in.
He’s resting his head on the cool glass of the window, drifting to sleep when the thought suddenly pops into his mind. When did he tell Jinyoung his name? Youngjae can’t recall mentioning it to him. He frowns. Well, he probably heard it when Jackson called; he was certainly shouting loud enough. Yeah, that’s probably it.
Jinyoung is a puzzle wrapped in a mystery, encased in an enigma. Youngjae has been meeting him nearly every day for the past five weeks for coffee and movies and walks by the river, but he still can’t figure him out. It’s like his brain is wired differently from every other person Youngjae has ever met. Like the way he gets upset when he hears about Youngjae skipping meals and pushes Youngjae to have a snack during their dates, but hardly has anything but a glass of water himself.
(“I promise I’ll relax my diet and have a hotdog if you get something to eat as well,” Youngjae tries to reason one night at the concession stand of the cinema they’re at. “And don’t try and tell me that you ate before you got here. That excuse won’t work tonight because I’ve been with you all afternoon.”
“I’m fine, really,” Jinyoung shakes his head.
Youngjae isn’t comforted. “But it’s been at least six hours since you last had something,” he frowns.
“You could say that hunger is a familiar friend for me,” Jinyoung laughs darkly. “Eating anything that hearty will just make me throw up.”
“Do you…also have, um, issues with food,” Youngjae fumbles for the words, nervously scratching at the cuticle of his thumb as he forces himself to keep eye contact with Jinyoung.
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Jinyoung shrugs, gracefulness present even in such a careless, casual action. “You don’t need to worry about me, though.” Youngjae blinks as his chin is lifted slightly and a thumb softly stokes his cheek. “You should be more concerned about yourself. Don’t bog yourself down with my problems.”
“I can’t help but worry about you. I really-uh, I mean, I like you,” Youngjae gulps.
“You’re so sweet,” Jinyoung grins, his eye folds crinkling.
Youngjae buys a hotdog and makes sure he eats at least half of it. He leaves the rest of it on the tray that sits between him and Jinyoung in the hopes that the other might have a bite or two. He doesn’t.)
Or the way he’s perfectly okay with depictions of graphic violence in the films and shows that they’ll watch, but gets into a mood whenever one of the characters has a peaceful death.
(“Why does it bug you so much?” Youngjae asks around the straw in his mouth before swallowing a mouthful of carrot juice.
“It’s...” Jinyoung trails off, a frown marring his handsome face. “It’s just unrealistic, the concept of a ‘peaceful death’. There’s nothing peaceful about losing your life.”
“I don’t think television dramas are supposed to be realistic, no matter the genre,” Youngjae laughs to himself. “And you speak like you have personal experience in that department,” Youngjae is trying to lighten the atmosphere, but the clouds still hang above Jinyoung’s head. “Do you? Uh, have personal experience with dying?”
“Yes,” Jinyoung says simply.
They sit in relative silence for seven seconds before Youngjae realises that he’s not going to elaborate as per usual.
“What was it like, dying?” Youngjae murmurs, his eyes fixed on Jinyoung’s profile. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Terrifying,” Jinyoung says solemnly. Youngjae swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. “It doesn’t matter how much you think you want it or how long you’ve been anticipating it, or how much you think you’ve made peace with it. When the moment finally comes, it’s nothing short of terrifying. You see, Youngjae,” Jinyoung turns to face him at last, cupping his cheek, “nobody truly wants to die.”
Youngjae covers Jinyoung’s hand with his own, leaning his cheek into the other man’s touch. “Could I ask how it happened?”
“You could ask, but I wouldn’t give you an answer-not tonight,” Jinyoung moves his hand from Youngjae’s cheek.
Youngjae wilts at the loss of contact and immediately shifts forward on the sofa, opening his mouth to apologise for ruining the mood and upsetting Jinyoung.
“Never mind this nonsense. You’ve got the Avenger’s movie on DVD, right?” Jinyoung grins, easing up from the sofa to look through Youngjae’s DVD collection. “If we’re going to watch something over the top and ridiculous, it should at least be entertaining and fun.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Youngjae blinks. “I actually wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who would be a fan of a comic book movie,” he admits.
“I’m a man of many layers,” Jinyoung winks. “And I’d be a bigger fan if they did the right thing and gave Black Widow her own movie.”
Youngjae still feels a bit unsettled, but he decides to follow Jinyoung’s lead and set aside his concerns. “Black Widow is your favourite?”)
But Youngjae supposes that those intriguing qualities are what make Jinyoung so interesting, what makes Youngjae feel a magnetic pull towards him. Even now, though, he can’t help but worry that that pull is a one sided force. As much as Jinyoung seems to enjoying talking to him and genuinely seems to care about Youngjae’s wellbeing, he doesn’t seem to have any particular interest in sexual intimacy.
He has no problem holding hands with Youngjae, or pressing chaste kisses into his cheeks and the tip of his nose and the back of his hand, or curling up on the sofa until they fall asleep, but he never tries to push the envelope-never tries to put some tongue into his kisses or have his hands do a bit of wandering down Youngaje’s body. Maybe it’s just another way Jinyoung is wired differently, but it still leads to several anxiety-filled nights where Youngjae stares at his naked body in front of his mirror.
“Do you think it means something or am I just worried over nothing?” Youngjae asks Jackson one night after yet another G-rated date with Jinyoung.
“I dunno, man. It’s possible that he just doesn’t want sex, but maybe he just thinks you’re not interested and doesn’t want to push you. You were the one who said you didn’t want to have a one night stand in the first place,” Jackson points out. “I nearly came after you when you told me that before you left the club, it was so weird.”
“I…guess that could be it,” Youngjae mumbles into the phone, chewing on the skin inside his cheek,
“My advice would be to man up and put the moves on him. If he’s into you like that, that’s probably the invitation he’s been waiting for. If not, well, there’s always sex toys and porn,” Jackson says with a shrug in his voice.
“Right.”
“The sleeper is a great thing to try on particularly lonely nights. It really does feel like it’s someone else’s hand!”
“Alright!”
“Go get your man, Youngjae!”
Youngjae hangs up. His heartbeat and breathing rate speeds up at the thought of Jinyoung’s naked skin touching his, of being totally exposed before the other man. What would he even do if they actually got to that point? Is there some instinct that kicks in when you’re actually doing it, or will he overthink it and freeze up and disappoint Jinyoung? His breathing slows down and heart rate returns to normal as he comes back to himself. Youngjae decides that it’s too late to call Jinyoung tonight; he has class the next morning, and it’s not his best subject. Better to leave this for some other time, he reasons as he heads off to take a shower.
They go one four more dates before Youngjae can finally pluck up the courage to take Jackson’s advice. They’re finished having a late supper by the river-well, Youngjae had supper; Jinyoung just nibbled on a single piece of kimbap-and are about to head to their homes. When Jinyoung leans in to kiss Youngjae goodnight, Youngjae catches his lips and curls his hands into the soft fabric of Jinyoung’s cardigan, pressing the length of his body against Jinyoung’s. He closes his eyes and holds his breath, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears and his fingers trembling slightly. No response from Jinyoung.
He opens his eyes and stumbles back, hiccupping as he tries to catch his breath. “Sorry,” he mumbles, turning away from Jinyoung, blinking rapidly.
Before he can take two steps, a strong hand grips him by the forearm, and he’s pulled back, spinning until he hits Jinyoung’s chest. He opens his mouth, but his lips are quickly covered by Jinyoung’s, the other man’s arms snaking around his waist and holding him against Jinyoung’s body. Youngjae’s eyes bug out of his head, losing focus as he stares at Jinyoung’s eyelashes. What little breath that remains in Youngjae’s lungs is lost in a gasp as a warm, wet tongue slides past his lips and enters his mouth. He’s feeling so many things at one time that his mind is becoming overwhelmed. All he can do is let his eyes fall shut and hold onto Jinyoung.
“I can’t believe you ever thought that I would reject you,” Jinyoung whispers against Youngjae’s lips, his voice rougher than Youngjae has ever heard it. “You have no idea…how much…I’ve been holding back,” Jinyoung declares between searing kisses.
“Oh!” Youngjae gasps, his back falling back as Jinyoung kisses a wet trail down his neck, stopping to suck at the junction of his shoulder and collar bones.
“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in that club.”
The combination of his actions and his words sends delight and arousal rushing through Youngjae’s veins, burning him up from the inside. Cold water falls onto him in steady drops for a few seconds, then he’s suddenly being doused, bringing him back to his senses.
“Looks like we’d better get out of here,” Jinyoung laughs.
“Let’s go to your place,” Youngjae says in a rush.
“My place?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never seen it before. Is that a problem?” Youngjae wraps his arms around his shoulders, rubbing them in a bid to chase the chill away.
Jinyoung strips off his cardigan and holds it out to Youngjae. “It’s soaking wet, but it’s another layer.”
“What about you?” Youngjae shakes his head.
“I’ll be fine,” Jinyoung smiles. “And I’d like to request a rain check on you coming to my place,” he chuckles at his own pun. “It’s a bit of a mess right now, and I’d be mortified if you saw the state of it,” he rubs the back of his neck.
Youngjae is once again caught off guard. “From the way you reorganised my DVDs, I would’ve sworn you’d be a neat freak,” he blinks, putting on Jinyoung’s cardigan. Even though it’s wet, it’s still got some of Jinyoung’s residual body heat trapped inside it.
“I guess I’m just full of surprises. Now, let’s get out of this rain,” Jinyoung wraps an arm around Youngjae’s waist and tucks him into his side as he starts to walk. Youngjae leans his head on Jinyoung’s shoulder, hardly minding the rain anymore.
Youngjae expected-hoped?-that Jinyoung would be ready to have him over the next night, but it takes almost a week before Jinyoung whispers into his ear, “My place tonight?”
It takes all of Youngjae’s self-control of force of will not to leap out of his seat and dash out of the cinema right then and there. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales through his mouth for a moment before he tries to form a reply.
“That sounds great,” he whispers, successfully keeping the tremor out of his voice.
Jinyoung covers his hand with his own and laces their fingers together. For the next hour or so, Youngjae stares up at the screen without seeing or hearing anything. The second the end credits start to appear on the screen, he stands up, pulling Jinyoung to his feet by their still joined hands.
“Well, let’s go then,” he says, trying to hold onto his burst of courage.
“Yes, let’s,” Jinyoung gently squeezes his hand.
The entire way back, Jinyoung keeps a hand on Youngjae in some way, whether it’s holding his hand or looping an arm around his waist. Youngjae has thought that Jinyoung has become touchier ever since Youngjae’s awkward seduction attempt last week, but it’s especially noticeable tonight. Or maybe that’s the anticipation messing with Youngjae’s mind.
“We’re almost there-home, sweet home.”
Jinyoung has always come across as a sophisticated and refined individual, the kind of person who would paint landscapes in his free time, so it surprises Youngjae when he finds that they’re in a more humble part of the city. Not that that’s a bad thing or that he lives like a king.
“You having second thoughts?” Jinyoung asks.
Youngjae shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just thought that someone who wears cashmere cardigans might live in a flashier part of town,” he shrugs.
Jinyoung laughs despite himself. “What can I say? I like to look nice, but I like being able to afford rent more.”
“Practical Jinyoung,” Youngjae smiles.
Jinyoung quickly pecks him on the lips. “Come on, then.”
One quick trip up the stairs-“This is an old building, so there aren’t any elevators. At least it’s only two floors up,” Jinyoung says apologetically-and Youngjae is finally standing outside Jinyoung’s door. When Jinyoung unlocks the door, Youngjae toes of his shoes and lines them up in the foyer, next to Jinyoung’s other shoes. The foyer opens up into a living room that’s attached to a small kitchen. The small size of the room is alleviated by the large window across from the sofa.
“It’s not the best view, but it’s better than nothing,” Jinyoung murmurs into the skin of Youngjae’s neck.
A shiver ripples through Youngjae’s body at the huskiness of his voice. “Yeah, definitely better than nothing,” he gasps.
“Would you like to see the bedroom?”
Youngjae swallows hard. “Yes,” he says in a strangled whisper.
From what Youngjae can make out by the streetlights outside, Jinyoung’s bedroom is hardly more than a mattress and a chest of drawers with a small window. The mattress and the duvet that covers it are wonderfully soft and comfortable though.
“Oh, you’re-you’re going to have the lights on?” Youngjae instinctively crosses his arms over his chest when light floods the small room.
“Do you mind? I’d like to see you,” Jinyoung sits down next to Youngjae on the bed. “You’re so pretty when you blush and I want to see how red you can get,” he holds Youngjae’s chin and lightly brushes the pad of his thumb over the apple of his cheek.
“Uh, well, I…it’s kind of bright,” Youngjae fiddles with his fingers, trying not to think about Jinyoung seeing him completely naked under bright lights.
Jinyoung pulls him in and plants a soft kiss on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s alright, I can see quite well in the dark anyway,” he winks. “And the moonlight does give a certain atmosphere.”
“Thank you,” the words fall off Youngjae’s tongue before he can stop them.
Jinyoung presses another sweet kiss to his lips before he gets up to turn off the light. A small sigh of relief slips past Youngjae’s lips when a blanket of darkness covers the room. When Jinyoung returns to the bed, Youngjae reaches out to hold his arm and meets bare flesh instead of fabric.
“Oh,” Youngjae gasps softly.
“Go on,” Jinyoung says.
Youngjae slowly moves his hand up Jinyoung’s arm, his fingers brushing against the fine, dark hairs. He pauses when he gets to Jinyoung’s neck. Jinyoung takes his hand in his and moves it down his broad chest. Down and down his hand goes until-
“Oh!” Youngjae jumps slightly, his hand unconsciously closing around the hardening bulge.
“This is what you do to me, Choi Youngjae,” Jinyoung says softly, moving Youngjae’s hand until it’s slipping past the waistband of Jinyoung’s trousers. “Can you feel it?” He takes Youngjae’s other hand and holds it up to his chest so Youngjae can feel the faint thrumming of his heart.
“I-I feel it.”
“Good. I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I desire you.”
Before Youngjae can blink, he’s flat on his back with Jinyoung pressing him into the bed, their lips joined in a burning kiss. Closing his eyes and letting himself go, Youngjae wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck and tilts his head back, letting Jinyoung kiss his air away. When the burning in his lungs gets to be too much to ignore, he moves his hands to Jinyoung’s lush black hair, tugging at it to get his attention.
“Ahhh!” Youngjae gasps when his lips are finally free. He stares up at the ceiling until his light-headedness ebbs away and the spots of light stop swimming in his vision. When he’s caught his breath again, he’s missing his shirt and Jinyoung is down to his underwear.
Although Youngjae has been mentally preparing himself for this moment for well over a week, he still finds himself right in the middle of an anxiety attack. He quickly shuts his eyes and tells himself that he’s beautiful, that anyone who can’t like him the way he is doesn’t deserve him at all, that he loves himself, that he doesn’t need to change himself for anyone…
“Youngjae.”
Youngjae keeps his eyes shut and repeats his mantra.
“Youngjae, look at me.”
Youngjae finishes his mantra, but doesn’t open his eyes out of embarrassment.
“Youngjae,” Jinyoung’s voice sounds so unbearably fond, and if that’s not bad enough, he then follows it with butterfly kisses all over Youngjae’s face.
When Jinyoung plants a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek, Youngjae starts to laugh despite himself. “Stop it.”
“There’s that smile that I love to see. Now, sit up, let’s try something different,” Jinyoung lightly taps him on the chest. Youngjae complies, curious as to what Jinyoung means. “Straddle me,” he says.
Youngjae hesitates for a moment, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, before he unzips his jeans and quickly kicks them off before he can lose his resolve. With nothing but the thin material of their underwear separating them, this is the most exposed Youngjae has ever felt in his life, but underneath the anxiousness is a real thread of anticipation and arousal.
“That’s good,” Jinyoung purrs, his voice like melted chocolate. “Now, hold on.”
His hips start moving in a slow circle, accompanied by upward thrusts. Youngjae falls forward into Jinyoung’s chest, his hands gripping the other’s shoulders. It’s probably embarrassing for him to be losing his mind from just this, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. The combined sounds of Jinyoung’s grunts as he grinds their pelvises together and the groaning of the mattress make a beautiful melody. When Jinyoung sucks Youngjae’s bottom lip into his mouth, his helpless whimpers add to the music they’re creating.
“That’s it, don’t hold back. Let me hear how much you love it,” Jinyoung moans into his ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of Youngjae’s ear.
Just when Youngjae is starting to catch his breath, Jinyoung slips his hand inside his underwear and wraps his hand around his erection. Youngjae’s startled gasps morphs into a strangled moan when Jinyoung tightens his grip and starts moving his hand. His feet slide out from under him and he throws his head back, moaning in earnest when Jinyoung squeezes the head and rubs his thumb over the slit.
“Ah, ah, ah, Jinyoung!”
“You’re so pretty, you should be painted,” Jinyoung pants. “Would you like that? Would you prefer oils or watercolours?” Jinyoung’s questions are strange, but the rapid motion of his hand and his hips keep Youngjae engulfed in a haze of pleasure. Jinyoung’s strong shoulders are his only lifeline; he clutches them for dear life as he bounces in the other man’s lap.
Jinyoung pulls his hand out of Youngjae’s underwear and wraps both of his arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hold, his hips hammering faster than ever as he sucks on Youngjae’s neck. The friction and the closeness and the pleasure is too much-much too much. Tears build in Youngjae’s eyes and he cries out pressure is released and a wave of pleasure washes over his entire body. His eyes are rolling in the back of his head and his body is convulsing in ecstasy when a sharp pain pierces his neck.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, ah, this is-my body is on fire, I-ahhh!”
“What a terrible excuse for a trip. I’m actually tenser and stressed now than before I left,” Jaebum grumbles to himself for the umpteenth time since he arrived back in South Korea. “Next time I get time off work, I’m going to do what I wanted to do in the first place and go to a hot spr-” Jaebum cuts himself off when he spots an unfamiliar pair of shoes in his foyer. They’re definitely not a pair of shoes that he bought and then forgot about because they’re a size smaller than what he wears.
“Who’s there?!” Jaebum steps inside his living room and grabs the baseball bat he keep behind the sofa. Flicking the light on in the living room, he sees that his floor is stained with scraps of paper and paint stains of varying hues.
“Is this some kind of new prank?” Jaebum calls out as he kicks open the door to his bathroom. Finding no one, he creeps over to his bedroom, and kicks open that door.
“The fuck-” he drops his bat. Draped on his bed is a man he’s never seen in his life. He’s dressed in nothing but his underwear and he looks unnaturally still. “Hey…are you okay?” Jaebum asks, fearing the worst. Stepping inside, he approaches the bed and touches the back of his hand to the strange man’s cold, clammy skin. Jumping back, Jaebum grabs the edge of his duvet and pulls it over the man’s body, covering up his pale skin and the eerie smile on his lifeless face. He calls for the police instead of an ambulance.
Pairing: Jr./Youngjae
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~5.9k
Summary: Shy, virginal Youngjae meets Jinyoung in a club, and they form a connection. After weeks of chaste touches, he worries that Jinyoung doesn't want to get physical with him, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
Warning:[spoilers]Character death, brief references to disordered eating, body image issues, and bullying
A/N: Inspiration for this was taken from the song ‘Desire’ by Meg Myers.
“Hyung! Youngjae-hyung! Look, that hot guy in the white shirt is still staring at you. He’s totally eyeing you up,” Bambam thumps Youngjae on the shoulder, shouting to be heard above the pounding baseline.
Youngjae looks up from his overpriced glass of cranberry juice to shoot the younger man a disbelieving look. In the last fifteen minutes alone, Bambam has gulped down so much alcohol that he’s probably just seeing things. Even if there is a man in a white shirt standing where his wobbly finger is pointing, he probably wouldn’t be interested in Youngjae.
“I’m serious, look!”
For the sake for his shoulder, Youngjae concedes and looks at the section of the packed club that Bambam has been gesturing to for the past thirty seconds. Youngjae carefully scans the area, but the only ‘hot guy in a white shirt’ that he can spot is attached at the hip-and the lips-to another man. As much as Bambam can get a bit carried away with the pranks he and Yugyeom like to pull on Youngjae, he doubts that this is one of those times.
“Here, have some water,” Youngjae holds up a now lukewarm glass of water.
“That’s funny, he’s gone now. I swear he was there before,” Bambam slurs. Youngjae presses the glass to the younger man’s lips. Bambam takes a sip and pulls a face. “Ugh, did that come from a tap?”
“Bottle or tap, it’ll help with your inevitable hangover,” Youngjae shrugs. “Finish the glass. I’m gonna go check on Yugyeom, I think it’s been far too long since he left for the bathroom.”
“He probably just fell asleep on the toilet again,” Bambam scoffs before throwing his head back in a cackle, spilling about a third of the water down the front of his shirt.
Youngjae hesitates, wondering if it’s really alright to leave Bambam on his own while Youngjae goes to find Yugyeom. For a second, he considers dragging Bambam along with him, but the thought of having to drag both Yugyeom and Bambam back from the toilet kills that thought.
“I’ll be right back. Just sit here and drink your water, okay?”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” Bambam salutes carelessly as he sinks into the plush leather seat of the booth.
Stepping out onto the dancefloor, Youngjae is immediately swallowed up by a wave of writhing bodies. He’s forced to hold what little breath he has left in his lungs as he desperately pushes his way to the corner of the room that houses the men’s toilets. He cringes as liquid splashes on his arm and rolls down his finger. It feels too cool to be somebody else’s sweat and too light to be somebody else’s vomit, but he won’t be able to check until he makes it out of the crush.
When he finally makes it to the less crowed perimeter of the dancefloor, Youngjae gulps down a sweet lungful of slightly less stale air. The liquid on his arm has been mostly wiped off, but the remnants appear to be both colourless and odourless. Probably water, then. With a shrug, Youngjae heads inside the bathroom.
“Yugyeom? Kim Yugyeom, are you in here?”
The only response he gets is a quick glance from a man swaying on his feet at a urinal, but Youngjae knows that’s not his charge from his height and hair colour. Two of the five stalls are locked, and Youngjae knocks on both, calling out Yugyeom’s name. Door number one swings open a second after he knocks, revealing a sour-faced man who shoulder checks Youngjae on his way out. The person behind door number two gives no reply, but his shoes are different from the ones Yugyeom wore to the club.
“Yugyeom, where did you get to?” Youngjae mumbles under his breath as he fishes his mobile phone out of his pocket, quickly dialling the younger man’s number. Youngjae doesn’t really expect Yugyeom to be able to hear his phone, but at the very least, he might be able to feel its vibrations in his pocket. Youngjae begins to anxiously pick at the cuticle of his thumb when the Yugyeom’s phone goes to voicemail.
“Come on, you’ve got to still have your phone on you,” he mumbles around his bottom lip as he redials the number.
“Are you calling the drycleaner? I don’t think they’ll be open now, friend.”
Youngjae looks up when he gets sent to voicemail for the third time to see a man drunkenly stumble out of the other stall. “What?”
The man chuckles, swaying slightly on his feet, before he points his finger down at Youngjae’s crotch. To Youngjae’s surprise, there’s a large dark spot just to the left side of his inner thigh.
“Looks like you had too much to drink.”
“N-no, that-that’s not what happened!” Youngjae nearly drops his phone in his haste to cover the wet spot with his hands.
The man simply throws back his head in laughter. He’s joined by the man at the urinal, who’s now washing his hands and guffawing.
“No! Someone…they-they must’ve spilled their drink on me,” Youngjae insists through trembling lips.
Once again he’s the awkward, chubby fifteen year old, pleading with his classmates not to throw his schoolbag into the river…
“I didn’t wet myself!”
…or shave his head.
“Stop…”
But they just keep laughing.
The bathroom briefly explodes with the sound of house music before relative silence returns. Youngjae draws upon the words of Doctor Shin and takes deep, even breaths, focusing on nothing but his own heartbeat. Ten breaths and he loosens his vicelike grip on his phone. Sixteen breaths and his jaw unclenches. At thirty one breaths, Youngjae is just about ready to open his eyes and face the world again.
“Boo!”
“Ahhh!” Youngjae leaps back, tripping over his feet and going crashing into a stall door. Pain immediately explodes in the back of his head.
“Please forgive me, I only intended to surprise you a little.” Youngjae blinks his eyes open, wincing at the harsh fluorescent lighting, at the sound of a warm, concerned voice. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“My head hurts,” Youngjae groans weakly.
“I’m really sorry,” the man before him gently caresses the sore spot on the back of Youngjae’s head.
Youngjae blinks, his eyes readjusting to the light, as he takes in his unwitting assailant. Now, with two good friends in the modelling industry, Youngjae is no stranger to hanging around incredibly attractive people. The man before him could easily fit in with Jackson and Bambam’s co-workers. His glossy jet black hair is gelled in a 4:5 side part that highlight his glowing chocolate brown eyes. His pink lips are pulled back in a kind smile, revealing his perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth. He even smells as good as he looks; Youngjae catches himself leaning forward to get a better whiff of the clean, masculine scent wafting off him.
“Hello,” the handsome stranger’s smile widens into a grin that makes the skin around his eyes fold and crinkle in the most endearing way.
“Hi,” Youngjae breathes, finally coming back to himself.
“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you’re going to start humping each other right outside my stall. I swear, I’ll hit you both with this door if you dare try it!”
Youngjae sits up in shock at the words emanating from the door he’s slumped against.
“Hardly. A public toilet is no place for such things,” the handsome stranger scoffs.
“Tell that to all the other drunk twenty somethings that frequent clubs,” the man behind the door shoots back.
The thought of drunk young people suddenly jots Youngjae’s memory as to the reason why he came to the bathroom in the first place. “Yugyeom!”
“What is it?” the handsome stranger frowns as Youngjae leaps to his feet.
“My friend. He’s lost and I’m trying to find him.”
“Hey, calm down, I’m sure he’s alright. Try calling his phone.”
Youngjae wants to scream that he already tried that-three times-but he swallows the words at the last second. The guy is only trying to be helpful; there’s no point in biting his head off.
“Okay,” Youngjae nods and dials the number again, for lack of anything better to think of.
“Youngjae!”
“Jackson?!” Youngjae does a double take when he hears the older man’s voice through the line. Briefly, he wonders if he’s dialled the wrong number. “Hyung, why do you have Yugyeom’s phone?”
“Yugyeom is currently busy lining up shots with Bambam. Why aren’t you here helping with that, by the way? Get your ass back to the booth, it’s time to really get this party started!”
“So, he’s safe?” Youngjae feels something in his chest relax. Something moves in his peripheral vision and he looks up to see the good-looking stranger flash him a thumbs up. Youngjae returns the gesture.
“Yeah, perfectly,” Jackson says with a hint of confusion in his voice. “Well, he’s probably gonna be hurting like hell tomorrow morning, but that’s a worry for the future.”
“Oh, well…” Youngjae winces at the thought of having his headache exacerbated with liquor and loud music.
“Speak up, dude, I can’t hear you!”
“Actually…Actually, I’m going to head out now.”
“No way! You can’t leave yet, I just got here! Come on, don’t be so boring.”
Youngjae’s shoulders slump. The older man almost certainly has no idea that his words are reminding Youngjae of the ‘friends’ who tried to cajole him into shoplifting. He jumps a bit when the phone is pulled out of his hand.
“Is there a problem?” the handsome stranger speaks into the line. After a short pause he says, “I’m the man Youngjae is going to be leaving with.”
“What?”
“What?!” Jackson screeches so loudly that Youngjae can hear him.
“You heard me, so don’t be a cockblock.”
Youngjae’s mouth falls open and he gapes when the phone is pushed back into his hands.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re actually gonna hook up with someone?! You?!”
“Yeah, okay, I’m hanging up now,” Youngjae blurts out, his cheeks warm.
“Make sure you use a condom!” Jackson chirps just before the line goes dead.
“Well, that tactic certainly did its job,” the handsome stranger chuckles.
“Uh, yeah, right. It worked,” Youngjae mumbles, something like disappointment making his stomach sink.
“What’s the matter?” the handsome stranger tilts his head.
“It’s just…um, what’s your name?” ‘Handsome stranger’ is getting kind of tedious.
“Handsome, eh?”
Paradoxically, Youngjae’s face burns while his blood runs cold with shock.
“My name is Jinyoung, but I don’t mind ‘handsome stranger’,” Jinyoung winks.
A toilet flushing is all the warning Youngjae gets before the door to the bathroom stall swings out and knocks his arm.
“I told you,” a middle aged man says pointedly as he heads to the sink to wash his hands.
“We weren’t-” Youngjae’s protest falls on deaf ears. The man just stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
“I think it’s about time we left this place. A public toilet is no place for a date,” Jinyoung chuckles.
“Date?”
“If I may be so presumptuous. I like you. I feel drawn to you.”
“Really?” Youngjae’s eyes widen. He’s mostly elated at the other man’s words, but a small voice in the back of his head whispers doubt that someone like Jinyoung couldn’t genuinely be interested in someone like him; Youngjae shakes his head to silence the voice.
“I’m glad to hear that, but…just to make it clear, we’re not actually going to…you know, tonight,” Youngjae stammers, his tongue twisting around in his mouth as he reaches for the words.
“No, no, don’t misunderstand. We’ve only just met, it’s much too soon for that,” Jinyoung holds up his hands and shakes his head. “But, hopefully, we could exchange phone numbers?”
“Yeah, of course, sure,” Youngjae nods, already unlocking his phone.
They exchange numbers, and then Jinyoung escorts Youngjae out of the club-nearly giving Youngjae a heart attack when he casually wraps his arm around Youngjae’s waist. The weather widget on his phone tells Youngjae that the outside temperature has dropped a few degrees since he entered the club, but he hardly takes note of it with Jinyoung pressed so close to him. Although Youngjae isn’t one for one night stands, he can’t help but feel a pang of regret when he and Jinyoung have to head separate ways at the train station.
“Um, well, I guess this is goodbye for now. It was nice to meet you,” Youngjae tentatively holds out his hand.
Jinyoung grasps Youngjae’s hand and lifts it to his lips. “Text me when you get home so I know that you’re alright,” he presses a soft kiss into the back of Youngjae’s hand.
“Yes! Uh, yeah, I will” Youngjae nods, his hand tingling as he lets it drop back to his side.
“Goodnight, Youngjae,” Jinyoung smiles warmly.
“Later!” Youngjae turns and dashes up to the platform where his train is pulling in.
He’s resting his head on the cool glass of the window, drifting to sleep when the thought suddenly pops into his mind. When did he tell Jinyoung his name? Youngjae can’t recall mentioning it to him. He frowns. Well, he probably heard it when Jackson called; he was certainly shouting loud enough. Yeah, that’s probably it.
Jinyoung is a puzzle wrapped in a mystery, encased in an enigma. Youngjae has been meeting him nearly every day for the past five weeks for coffee and movies and walks by the river, but he still can’t figure him out. It’s like his brain is wired differently from every other person Youngjae has ever met. Like the way he gets upset when he hears about Youngjae skipping meals and pushes Youngjae to have a snack during their dates, but hardly has anything but a glass of water himself.
(“I promise I’ll relax my diet and have a hotdog if you get something to eat as well,” Youngjae tries to reason one night at the concession stand of the cinema they’re at. “And don’t try and tell me that you ate before you got here. That excuse won’t work tonight because I’ve been with you all afternoon.”
“I’m fine, really,” Jinyoung shakes his head.
Youngjae isn’t comforted. “But it’s been at least six hours since you last had something,” he frowns.
“You could say that hunger is a familiar friend for me,” Jinyoung laughs darkly. “Eating anything that hearty will just make me throw up.”
“Do you…also have, um, issues with food,” Youngjae fumbles for the words, nervously scratching at the cuticle of his thumb as he forces himself to keep eye contact with Jinyoung.
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Jinyoung shrugs, gracefulness present even in such a careless, casual action. “You don’t need to worry about me, though.” Youngjae blinks as his chin is lifted slightly and a thumb softly stokes his cheek. “You should be more concerned about yourself. Don’t bog yourself down with my problems.”
“I can’t help but worry about you. I really-uh, I mean, I like you,” Youngjae gulps.
“You’re so sweet,” Jinyoung grins, his eye folds crinkling.
Youngjae buys a hotdog and makes sure he eats at least half of it. He leaves the rest of it on the tray that sits between him and Jinyoung in the hopes that the other might have a bite or two. He doesn’t.)
Or the way he’s perfectly okay with depictions of graphic violence in the films and shows that they’ll watch, but gets into a mood whenever one of the characters has a peaceful death.
(“Why does it bug you so much?” Youngjae asks around the straw in his mouth before swallowing a mouthful of carrot juice.
“It’s...” Jinyoung trails off, a frown marring his handsome face. “It’s just unrealistic, the concept of a ‘peaceful death’. There’s nothing peaceful about losing your life.”
“I don’t think television dramas are supposed to be realistic, no matter the genre,” Youngjae laughs to himself. “And you speak like you have personal experience in that department,” Youngjae is trying to lighten the atmosphere, but the clouds still hang above Jinyoung’s head. “Do you? Uh, have personal experience with dying?”
“Yes,” Jinyoung says simply.
They sit in relative silence for seven seconds before Youngjae realises that he’s not going to elaborate as per usual.
“What was it like, dying?” Youngjae murmurs, his eyes fixed on Jinyoung’s profile. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Terrifying,” Jinyoung says solemnly. Youngjae swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. “It doesn’t matter how much you think you want it or how long you’ve been anticipating it, or how much you think you’ve made peace with it. When the moment finally comes, it’s nothing short of terrifying. You see, Youngjae,” Jinyoung turns to face him at last, cupping his cheek, “nobody truly wants to die.”
Youngjae covers Jinyoung’s hand with his own, leaning his cheek into the other man’s touch. “Could I ask how it happened?”
“You could ask, but I wouldn’t give you an answer-not tonight,” Jinyoung moves his hand from Youngjae’s cheek.
Youngjae wilts at the loss of contact and immediately shifts forward on the sofa, opening his mouth to apologise for ruining the mood and upsetting Jinyoung.
“Never mind this nonsense. You’ve got the Avenger’s movie on DVD, right?” Jinyoung grins, easing up from the sofa to look through Youngjae’s DVD collection. “If we’re going to watch something over the top and ridiculous, it should at least be entertaining and fun.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Youngjae blinks. “I actually wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who would be a fan of a comic book movie,” he admits.
“I’m a man of many layers,” Jinyoung winks. “And I’d be a bigger fan if they did the right thing and gave Black Widow her own movie.”
Youngjae still feels a bit unsettled, but he decides to follow Jinyoung’s lead and set aside his concerns. “Black Widow is your favourite?”)
But Youngjae supposes that those intriguing qualities are what make Jinyoung so interesting, what makes Youngjae feel a magnetic pull towards him. Even now, though, he can’t help but worry that that pull is a one sided force. As much as Jinyoung seems to enjoying talking to him and genuinely seems to care about Youngjae’s wellbeing, he doesn’t seem to have any particular interest in sexual intimacy.
He has no problem holding hands with Youngjae, or pressing chaste kisses into his cheeks and the tip of his nose and the back of his hand, or curling up on the sofa until they fall asleep, but he never tries to push the envelope-never tries to put some tongue into his kisses or have his hands do a bit of wandering down Youngaje’s body. Maybe it’s just another way Jinyoung is wired differently, but it still leads to several anxiety-filled nights where Youngjae stares at his naked body in front of his mirror.
“Do you think it means something or am I just worried over nothing?” Youngjae asks Jackson one night after yet another G-rated date with Jinyoung.
“I dunno, man. It’s possible that he just doesn’t want sex, but maybe he just thinks you’re not interested and doesn’t want to push you. You were the one who said you didn’t want to have a one night stand in the first place,” Jackson points out. “I nearly came after you when you told me that before you left the club, it was so weird.”
“I…guess that could be it,” Youngjae mumbles into the phone, chewing on the skin inside his cheek,
“My advice would be to man up and put the moves on him. If he’s into you like that, that’s probably the invitation he’s been waiting for. If not, well, there’s always sex toys and porn,” Jackson says with a shrug in his voice.
“Right.”
“The sleeper is a great thing to try on particularly lonely nights. It really does feel like it’s someone else’s hand!”
“Alright!”
“Go get your man, Youngjae!”
Youngjae hangs up. His heartbeat and breathing rate speeds up at the thought of Jinyoung’s naked skin touching his, of being totally exposed before the other man. What would he even do if they actually got to that point? Is there some instinct that kicks in when you’re actually doing it, or will he overthink it and freeze up and disappoint Jinyoung? His breathing slows down and heart rate returns to normal as he comes back to himself. Youngjae decides that it’s too late to call Jinyoung tonight; he has class the next morning, and it’s not his best subject. Better to leave this for some other time, he reasons as he heads off to take a shower.
They go one four more dates before Youngjae can finally pluck up the courage to take Jackson’s advice. They’re finished having a late supper by the river-well, Youngjae had supper; Jinyoung just nibbled on a single piece of kimbap-and are about to head to their homes. When Jinyoung leans in to kiss Youngjae goodnight, Youngjae catches his lips and curls his hands into the soft fabric of Jinyoung’s cardigan, pressing the length of his body against Jinyoung’s. He closes his eyes and holds his breath, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears and his fingers trembling slightly. No response from Jinyoung.
He opens his eyes and stumbles back, hiccupping as he tries to catch his breath. “Sorry,” he mumbles, turning away from Jinyoung, blinking rapidly.
Before he can take two steps, a strong hand grips him by the forearm, and he’s pulled back, spinning until he hits Jinyoung’s chest. He opens his mouth, but his lips are quickly covered by Jinyoung’s, the other man’s arms snaking around his waist and holding him against Jinyoung’s body. Youngjae’s eyes bug out of his head, losing focus as he stares at Jinyoung’s eyelashes. What little breath that remains in Youngjae’s lungs is lost in a gasp as a warm, wet tongue slides past his lips and enters his mouth. He’s feeling so many things at one time that his mind is becoming overwhelmed. All he can do is let his eyes fall shut and hold onto Jinyoung.
“I can’t believe you ever thought that I would reject you,” Jinyoung whispers against Youngjae’s lips, his voice rougher than Youngjae has ever heard it. “You have no idea…how much…I’ve been holding back,” Jinyoung declares between searing kisses.
“Oh!” Youngjae gasps, his back falling back as Jinyoung kisses a wet trail down his neck, stopping to suck at the junction of his shoulder and collar bones.
“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in that club.”
The combination of his actions and his words sends delight and arousal rushing through Youngjae’s veins, burning him up from the inside. Cold water falls onto him in steady drops for a few seconds, then he’s suddenly being doused, bringing him back to his senses.
“Looks like we’d better get out of here,” Jinyoung laughs.
“Let’s go to your place,” Youngjae says in a rush.
“My place?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never seen it before. Is that a problem?” Youngjae wraps his arms around his shoulders, rubbing them in a bid to chase the chill away.
Jinyoung strips off his cardigan and holds it out to Youngjae. “It’s soaking wet, but it’s another layer.”
“What about you?” Youngjae shakes his head.
“I’ll be fine,” Jinyoung smiles. “And I’d like to request a rain check on you coming to my place,” he chuckles at his own pun. “It’s a bit of a mess right now, and I’d be mortified if you saw the state of it,” he rubs the back of his neck.
Youngjae is once again caught off guard. “From the way you reorganised my DVDs, I would’ve sworn you’d be a neat freak,” he blinks, putting on Jinyoung’s cardigan. Even though it’s wet, it’s still got some of Jinyoung’s residual body heat trapped inside it.
“I guess I’m just full of surprises. Now, let’s get out of this rain,” Jinyoung wraps an arm around Youngjae’s waist and tucks him into his side as he starts to walk. Youngjae leans his head on Jinyoung’s shoulder, hardly minding the rain anymore.
Youngjae expected-hoped?-that Jinyoung would be ready to have him over the next night, but it takes almost a week before Jinyoung whispers into his ear, “My place tonight?”
It takes all of Youngjae’s self-control of force of will not to leap out of his seat and dash out of the cinema right then and there. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales through his mouth for a moment before he tries to form a reply.
“That sounds great,” he whispers, successfully keeping the tremor out of his voice.
Jinyoung covers his hand with his own and laces their fingers together. For the next hour or so, Youngjae stares up at the screen without seeing or hearing anything. The second the end credits start to appear on the screen, he stands up, pulling Jinyoung to his feet by their still joined hands.
“Well, let’s go then,” he says, trying to hold onto his burst of courage.
“Yes, let’s,” Jinyoung gently squeezes his hand.
The entire way back, Jinyoung keeps a hand on Youngjae in some way, whether it’s holding his hand or looping an arm around his waist. Youngjae has thought that Jinyoung has become touchier ever since Youngjae’s awkward seduction attempt last week, but it’s especially noticeable tonight. Or maybe that’s the anticipation messing with Youngjae’s mind.
“We’re almost there-home, sweet home.”
Jinyoung has always come across as a sophisticated and refined individual, the kind of person who would paint landscapes in his free time, so it surprises Youngjae when he finds that they’re in a more humble part of the city. Not that that’s a bad thing or that he lives like a king.
“You having second thoughts?” Jinyoung asks.
Youngjae shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just thought that someone who wears cashmere cardigans might live in a flashier part of town,” he shrugs.
Jinyoung laughs despite himself. “What can I say? I like to look nice, but I like being able to afford rent more.”
“Practical Jinyoung,” Youngjae smiles.
Jinyoung quickly pecks him on the lips. “Come on, then.”
One quick trip up the stairs-“This is an old building, so there aren’t any elevators. At least it’s only two floors up,” Jinyoung says apologetically-and Youngjae is finally standing outside Jinyoung’s door. When Jinyoung unlocks the door, Youngjae toes of his shoes and lines them up in the foyer, next to Jinyoung’s other shoes. The foyer opens up into a living room that’s attached to a small kitchen. The small size of the room is alleviated by the large window across from the sofa.
“It’s not the best view, but it’s better than nothing,” Jinyoung murmurs into the skin of Youngjae’s neck.
A shiver ripples through Youngjae’s body at the huskiness of his voice. “Yeah, definitely better than nothing,” he gasps.
“Would you like to see the bedroom?”
Youngjae swallows hard. “Yes,” he says in a strangled whisper.
From what Youngjae can make out by the streetlights outside, Jinyoung’s bedroom is hardly more than a mattress and a chest of drawers with a small window. The mattress and the duvet that covers it are wonderfully soft and comfortable though.
“Oh, you’re-you’re going to have the lights on?” Youngjae instinctively crosses his arms over his chest when light floods the small room.
“Do you mind? I’d like to see you,” Jinyoung sits down next to Youngjae on the bed. “You’re so pretty when you blush and I want to see how red you can get,” he holds Youngjae’s chin and lightly brushes the pad of his thumb over the apple of his cheek.
“Uh, well, I…it’s kind of bright,” Youngjae fiddles with his fingers, trying not to think about Jinyoung seeing him completely naked under bright lights.
Jinyoung pulls him in and plants a soft kiss on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s alright, I can see quite well in the dark anyway,” he winks. “And the moonlight does give a certain atmosphere.”
“Thank you,” the words fall off Youngjae’s tongue before he can stop them.
Jinyoung presses another sweet kiss to his lips before he gets up to turn off the light. A small sigh of relief slips past Youngjae’s lips when a blanket of darkness covers the room. When Jinyoung returns to the bed, Youngjae reaches out to hold his arm and meets bare flesh instead of fabric.
“Oh,” Youngjae gasps softly.
“Go on,” Jinyoung says.
Youngjae slowly moves his hand up Jinyoung’s arm, his fingers brushing against the fine, dark hairs. He pauses when he gets to Jinyoung’s neck. Jinyoung takes his hand in his and moves it down his broad chest. Down and down his hand goes until-
“Oh!” Youngjae jumps slightly, his hand unconsciously closing around the hardening bulge.
“This is what you do to me, Choi Youngjae,” Jinyoung says softly, moving Youngjae’s hand until it’s slipping past the waistband of Jinyoung’s trousers. “Can you feel it?” He takes Youngjae’s other hand and holds it up to his chest so Youngjae can feel the faint thrumming of his heart.
“I-I feel it.”
“Good. I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I desire you.”
Before Youngjae can blink, he’s flat on his back with Jinyoung pressing him into the bed, their lips joined in a burning kiss. Closing his eyes and letting himself go, Youngjae wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s neck and tilts his head back, letting Jinyoung kiss his air away. When the burning in his lungs gets to be too much to ignore, he moves his hands to Jinyoung’s lush black hair, tugging at it to get his attention.
“Ahhh!” Youngjae gasps when his lips are finally free. He stares up at the ceiling until his light-headedness ebbs away and the spots of light stop swimming in his vision. When he’s caught his breath again, he’s missing his shirt and Jinyoung is down to his underwear.
Although Youngjae has been mentally preparing himself for this moment for well over a week, he still finds himself right in the middle of an anxiety attack. He quickly shuts his eyes and tells himself that he’s beautiful, that anyone who can’t like him the way he is doesn’t deserve him at all, that he loves himself, that he doesn’t need to change himself for anyone…
“Youngjae.”
Youngjae keeps his eyes shut and repeats his mantra.
“Youngjae, look at me.”
Youngjae finishes his mantra, but doesn’t open his eyes out of embarrassment.
“Youngjae,” Jinyoung’s voice sounds so unbearably fond, and if that’s not bad enough, he then follows it with butterfly kisses all over Youngjae’s face.
When Jinyoung plants a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek, Youngjae starts to laugh despite himself. “Stop it.”
“There’s that smile that I love to see. Now, sit up, let’s try something different,” Jinyoung lightly taps him on the chest. Youngjae complies, curious as to what Jinyoung means. “Straddle me,” he says.
Youngjae hesitates for a moment, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, before he unzips his jeans and quickly kicks them off before he can lose his resolve. With nothing but the thin material of their underwear separating them, this is the most exposed Youngjae has ever felt in his life, but underneath the anxiousness is a real thread of anticipation and arousal.
“That’s good,” Jinyoung purrs, his voice like melted chocolate. “Now, hold on.”
His hips start moving in a slow circle, accompanied by upward thrusts. Youngjae falls forward into Jinyoung’s chest, his hands gripping the other’s shoulders. It’s probably embarrassing for him to be losing his mind from just this, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. The combined sounds of Jinyoung’s grunts as he grinds their pelvises together and the groaning of the mattress make a beautiful melody. When Jinyoung sucks Youngjae’s bottom lip into his mouth, his helpless whimpers add to the music they’re creating.
“That’s it, don’t hold back. Let me hear how much you love it,” Jinyoung moans into his ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of Youngjae’s ear.
Just when Youngjae is starting to catch his breath, Jinyoung slips his hand inside his underwear and wraps his hand around his erection. Youngjae’s startled gasps morphs into a strangled moan when Jinyoung tightens his grip and starts moving his hand. His feet slide out from under him and he throws his head back, moaning in earnest when Jinyoung squeezes the head and rubs his thumb over the slit.
“Ah, ah, ah, Jinyoung!”
“You’re so pretty, you should be painted,” Jinyoung pants. “Would you like that? Would you prefer oils or watercolours?” Jinyoung’s questions are strange, but the rapid motion of his hand and his hips keep Youngjae engulfed in a haze of pleasure. Jinyoung’s strong shoulders are his only lifeline; he clutches them for dear life as he bounces in the other man’s lap.
Jinyoung pulls his hand out of Youngjae’s underwear and wraps both of his arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hold, his hips hammering faster than ever as he sucks on Youngjae’s neck. The friction and the closeness and the pleasure is too much-much too much. Tears build in Youngjae’s eyes and he cries out pressure is released and a wave of pleasure washes over his entire body. His eyes are rolling in the back of his head and his body is convulsing in ecstasy when a sharp pain pierces his neck.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, ah, this is-my body is on fire, I-ahhh!”
“What a terrible excuse for a trip. I’m actually tenser and stressed now than before I left,” Jaebum grumbles to himself for the umpteenth time since he arrived back in South Korea. “Next time I get time off work, I’m going to do what I wanted to do in the first place and go to a hot spr-” Jaebum cuts himself off when he spots an unfamiliar pair of shoes in his foyer. They’re definitely not a pair of shoes that he bought and then forgot about because they’re a size smaller than what he wears.
“Who’s there?!” Jaebum steps inside his living room and grabs the baseball bat he keep behind the sofa. Flicking the light on in the living room, he sees that his floor is stained with scraps of paper and paint stains of varying hues.
“Is this some kind of new prank?” Jaebum calls out as he kicks open the door to his bathroom. Finding no one, he creeps over to his bedroom, and kicks open that door.
“The fuck-” he drops his bat. Draped on his bed is a man he’s never seen in his life. He’s dressed in nothing but his underwear and he looks unnaturally still. “Hey…are you okay?” Jaebum asks, fearing the worst. Stepping inside, he approaches the bed and touches the back of his hand to the strange man’s cold, clammy skin. Jumping back, Jaebum grabs the edge of his duvet and pulls it over the man’s body, covering up his pale skin and the eerie smile on his lifeless face. He calls for the police instead of an ambulance.