Lips don't lie
Title: Lips don't lie
Pairing: Jinki/Taemin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: just some sex in a studio dressing room
A/N: This isn't great. I'm not that comfortable writing smut and this is actually the final in a series of six so certain lines might seem ill-fitting, or whatever, because of a lack of context. Feedback is appreciated.
“Do you like it?”
“The…”
“Yeah.” Taemin allowed for a centimeter of space as he puffed a breath out toward his own reflection, dragging his eyes up to Jinki’s in the mirror and blinking slowly, “Kibum-hyung says it suits me.”
Hmming lowly, Jinki pressed his front to Taemin’s back and considered the other in the mirror. They had finished up with a photo shoot only minutes before and were both still dressed as their album coordi noonas saw fit; Taemin wore two toned loafers, rough silk legwarmers unlike Jinki had ever seen (frayed and beaded and utterly useless) that covered his knees like two secrets and ripped jean shorts, burnt amber in color. Across his middle, a sternum bearing white tank top with some geometric rubbish on the front, armholes cut deep to the end of his ribcage. All that fucking stunning build-up of modern teenage boy topped by bloody hair. Jinki laid his hand so that four fingers splayed along the skinny neck, knuckles bubbled over the mockery of an Adam’s apple and he looked closely at the lips stain he was asked to consider (as if he had to be asked).
Taemin’s mouth was the stuff of legends - record setting in Jinki’s mind, Olympic standard - and the light orange lipstick that had been applied only help to emphasize the shape and fatness, shade just dark enough to contrast the milk of his skin. Two plump lips sitting together painted peach and looking just as sweet - Jinki felt he was inclined to agree with Kibum.
Although, he thought, as the rest of his fingers joined his thumb to frame Taemin’s jaw, he could name a few other things that suited the young dancer as well. His mouth wrapped around Jinki’s cock, for one.
The managers had ordered him not to spoil their maknae but he couldn’t help but lean down to whisper with extra lip against Taemin’s earlobe, “You could make garbage bag look lovely, aegi.” He used his teeth to tug one of the new silver studs in Taemin’s cartilage (the company had ordered seven in all, Taemin had cried when he heard) and then another, harder, watching Taemin’s reflection wince and whimper.
“My pretty baby.”
“So you like it?”
He straightened up to grind his blooming erection between Taemin’s shoulder blades and Taemin rolled his head back to look up at him, lips falling further apart. Jinki stabilized Taemin with one hand so he might grind into him harder as the pointer finger of his other hand traced the seam of Taemin’s face.
“Yeah, you could say that.” He smiled, “Now open up.”
Taemin smiled back and did as he was told. The tips of Jinki’s fingers were invited in by a warm pink tongue that immediately got to work moistening them, in between each and licking the salt off his pads eagerly like that had been his game since the start. Jinki had stopped being delicate with Taemin years back; he didn’t hesitate sliding his fingers in further so he could watch Taemin’s mouth stretch to accommodate them.
He hauled Taemin to his feet abruptly by his waist and pulled their bodies flush.
“Lose the shorts.” Taemin had begun unbuckling before Jinki had begun suggesting, stepping from his shoes and kicking the denim into the wall off his ankle after they’d been dropped. Jinki could see the familiar shape of Taemin’s erection against his white underwear and the growing spot of precum, which called his hand up to grope it roughly.
“Fuck.”
Taemin had his eyes squeezed shut while Jinki trained his on his young lover’s rolling hips. He pushed Taemin’s brief down his thighs where they clung and then slipped to pool around his ankles, leaving him bare save for his ever modest knees and the little cover provided by his hiked up shirt. He spotted Taemin’s thin hands inching toward his own cock.
“Ahni - put them back behind my neck. Keep them there.”
The dancer did so after a sour whimper and Jinki sealed Taemin to him tighter, damp fingers dipping into his navel and then dropping down further to roll his balls, ignoring his dick entirely for the time being. Taemin pushed his shoulders back into Jinki’s chest in protest, so Jinki repeated the act a few times until he could see his maknae’s toes spasm against the linoleum.
Taemin turned and crushed his face into his neck, “Jinki…” he panted, “Hyung, please.”
He lifted one of Taemin’s legs to prop it atop the stool he’d been sitting on minutes before, returning his fingers back to Taemin’s mouth for more lubrication.
“How much time do you think we have?”
He shoved his hand deeper when Taemin tried to curse at him around it so Taemin’s head was forced back to rest against the top of his shoulder. It was a little joke of theirs - asking each other things when the other couldn’t physically answer or when he was too far gone to give half a fuck. Like yesterday, while riding his cock Taemin had unrelentingly interrogated him on what Jinki was planning to buy him for his birthday, somehow finagling a new pair of Adidas and a puppy for them to share by the time Jinki came.
“Yeah? You think? So I should hurry up then?”
He replaced his fingers with his lips and sucked up Taemin’s groan as he pushed into him three knuckles deep, pulling out to add another digit and scissoring without any finesse. Jinki was pretty sure he could find Taemin’s prostate half asleep with both hands tied behind his back (had in fact done just as much at least once before) but at the moment was deliberately avoiding it so Taemin didn’t come too quickly. He liked the way Taemin’s body was shaking against him and the taste of quiet whimpers being unloaded in his mouth.
He wasn’t sure why Taemin enjoyed getting fingered so much. Jinki never particularly felt the urge to be entered but his insatiable boyfriend was always trying to get Jinki to fill him up with something - dick, tongue, fingers, fist…whatever the hell happened to be lying around, then usually more dick. As they were now Taemin wouldn’t be able to support himself on his feet if it weren’t for the hold Jinki had around his waist; that’s how much pleasure he was taking from the feel of Jinki inside him.
Taemin let one of his hand fall away from where Jinki had told him to keep it but instead of going to his painful looking erection as Jinki would’ve expected he reached back and gripped his hyung’s wrist. Jinki relinquished control for a while, allowing Taemin to pull his fingers out and then shove them back in again, angling his hips so Jinki hit him just right every time. Jinki took advantage of his view - alternating between looking down at his hand being used to pummel Taemin’s ass and their reflection opposite him, eyes finding the center of Taemin’s endless spread legs, his spasmodically jerking hips and if Jinki wasn’t so sure his turn would be coming soon he would have had to rut helplessly against Taemin’s back at the sight.
They had stopped trying to be quiet Jinki realized, as he switched to watch Taemin’s face closely in the mirror. He looked high. His mouth was wide open as he pressed his forehead to Jinki’s jaw and his body was waving beautifully and beginning to perspire, pouring non-stop encouragements down the column of Jinki’s neck.
Well, his version of encouragements.
“Oh god Jinki. Fucking, fuck.” The door was locked, but you wouldn’t need to open it to figure out what they were doing.
Jinki was almost startled when Taemin came - he hadn’t noticed his own hand trail up the dancer’s narrow thighs to his erection, lighting pinching and massaging the head of Taemin’s cock in the way he knew the younger boy loved. He just caught sight of what it was his front hand was doing to his lover when Taemin threw his head back and cried out, his body constricting around Jinki until his fingers overlapped. Jinki moaned as well, imagining another part of him there instead, helping Taemin ride out the rest of his orgasm by pumping his cock and flexing his hand until Taemin relaxed quiet and wasted against his chest.
He waited half a minute before pulling out of Taemin’s warm body, both hands coming round to hold him up by his hips. Taemin pulled Jinki’s face closer to him. They nuzzled and then kissed in that dirty wet way Taemin liked best.
“Thanks, hyung.”
“My pleasure.”
He pushed his cloth covered cock into Taemin’s ass and the younger boy turned forward to watch them in the mirror - stretching his arms up and then dropping his hand to play with some of the come on his stomach. Together they watched him suck a finger clean.
He stepped out of Jinki’s hold toward the make-up counter, picking out a tube from the mess and quickly reapplied the color that had been mostly rubbed off by Jinki’s hand. He popped his lips and smirked - Jinki glared at him and deliberately unzipped the weird tapered pants the coordi noonas had dressed him up in, pushing them and his boxer briefs down to mid thigh and taking himself in hand, half surprised to see how hard he’d become from just finger-fucking his boyfriend.
Taemin spun around to face him - his shirt was hanging from one shoulder, cropped enough to bare his navel and twirled out around him and that, coupled with the legwarmers and spattered ejaculate made him look to Jinki like some X-rated ballerina.
It was mind-bogglingly erotic.
He gripped the base of his cock, trying not to whimper, and the dancer had the audacity to smirk at it. Fortunately, right after he got to his knees and gestured for Jinki to come to him, which he did with some effort to not look too eager, nearly tripping over the tangle of his pants all the same. He stopped when the head of his dick was only a handful of centimeters from the ginger lips, meeting wide eyes through the dark red fringe of Taemin’s hair. Coy and dirty, Taemin leaned in toward him at a leisured pace, backing off again when Jinki sighed in excitement.
His sigh became an annoyed groan and he batted a hand at Taemin’s head. Mercilessly child-like, again Taemin popped his lips.
“You’re such a slut, seriously.” Jinki yanked at his bangs, utterly frustrated, ground the heel of his palm into his eye and then dropped it back to his side.
“Seriously.” Taemin offered a poor imitation of his voice and massaged both of Jinki’s thighs. “You mean a tease. And no, I’m not.”
Taemin took his wrist in hand and led his fingers to his hair, letting out a pleased grunt when Jinki fisted it and hauled him the rest of the way forward. He tickled his balls and didn’t resist Jinki when he forced himself into his mouth, loosening his jaw and lolling out his tongue with almost professional ease.
“Shit.”
Jinki’s knees felt weak and his free hand grasped the counter for support. He stared hard at the wall and tried to project onto it the least sexy image that came to mind - Kang Ho Dong buggering Minho successfully quashed his urge to come at once down Taemin’s throat. He looked back down and met Taemin’s dark eyes as he circled the very end of Jinki’s dick with puckered lips, pressing his tongue flat from underneath then up into the slit.
He tensed his fingers a second time into a rough twist, “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
The top half of Taemin’s face looked smug but he complied and dragged his lips all the way down to the very base. Jinki was impressed - in this way Taemin always impressed him. The size of his own dick wasn’t something that particularly weighed on his mind; he could say he was confident and that was that. It wasn’t unless he was watching inch after inch slip away down Taemin’s throat, as euphoria began picking apart his senses, that he appreciated his own length and girth. He’d consequently grow near delirious in gratitude toward Taemin and how he made it look so easy. Like now, unbothered by the messy wet sounds he made when he bobbed - once, twice, then humming when every last centimeter of Jinki was stuffed inside of him and crammed against the back of his throat.
All the moments with his lover were special, but the one’s that looked liked this were the types with which Jinki sincerely wished he could line the inside of his skull.
And, as if the fates themselves could not agree more, at the precise instant the thought crossed his mind out of his periphery he saw Kibum’s camera on the counter by his hand.
His next move was kind of like those evenings when he’d come back to the dorms after far too much drinking with his hyungs - how even though he could barely walk straight most of the time when sober, on those shitfaced nights he’d inevitably cook himself a full meal and find his way to Taemin’s bed. And no matter how many people he had drunk under the table he’d figure out how to strip down enough to get his dick free and then there would just be the matter of convincing Taemin to do something with it. His efforts now were kind of like that. Because even while he felt like his mind was being electrocuted by pleasure shooting up from his cock he worked out how to turn on the unfamiliar devise, focus enough to make sure Taemin fit in the view and press down.
“Taemin - smile.” Click, Flash.
Taemin unhooked his face from Jinki’s pelvis and rolled his eyes. As a couple they had taken far greater risks, so Jinki wasn’t surprised when Taemin continued on with the blowjob unbothered, licking a long stripe down the vein of Jinki cock and then mouthing his balls till he swore. Stiff fingers readied the camera a second time. From the viewfinder he watched Taemin circle his lips around the head of his dick again and waited for the perfect picture - Taemin looking up at him with kohl lined eyes, one hand with its fingers curled around the top hem of him pants, the other around the base of his cock which was about an inch deep past his lips. Click, Flash.
He dropped the camera into its owner’s bag on the chair beside him, the pictures following into a side pocket. Jinki imagined Kibum’s face when he found it with a smirk.
Taemin freed his mouth of its burden, continuing to pump Jinki as he watched him try to tuck away the photos.
“You shouldn’t, hyung,” he murmured as he circled the tip with his thumb, “you know he wants to fuck me.”
Jinki pushed the bag away and rolled his head back to look at the ceiling. He could feel Taemin lying tiny kisses to the tops of his thighs, “Maybe I’ll let him.”
The pecks became a hard bite.
“Shit!”
Taemin released his chunk of flesh and they both stared at the wet sore.
“Well,” Jinki tried to reason while directing Taemin back to his dick with both his palms against the dancer’s cheeks, “we should at least let him watch.”
Taemin snorted and relaxed his neck and shoulders as Jinki began to fuck his mouth in earnest, pulling nearly all the way out and then slamming in again down the silky slide of Taemin’s throat. This was something Taemin had never had a problem with - he had nothing even resembling a gag reflex and so Jinki had become spoiled and ungentlemanly and usually felt bad for it afterwards. He watched his cock pull saliva from Taemin’s mouth onto his chin and thought despite that the glint of concentration in Taemin’s eyes was oddly adorable.
Maybe it was his angle - the sight of Taemin’s heels pushing into his ass from within a nearby floor length mirror, how when Jinki pushed harder in his mouth and he bounced his cheeks spread open enough for Jinki to see his entrance - but whatever the reason he suddenly felt a burning need to be cock-deep into a different end of Taemin.
He would have laughed at the loud, alarmed squawk his lover let out when he was suddenly heaved up and off his feet but he was too busy making sure there was space for Taemin’s ass where he deposited him on the counter. His skinny legs whipped around Jinki’s waist out of instinct, one arm flying out to catch the mirror so his back wouldn’t slam into it too hard. Jinki positioned Taemin’s heels on the countertop, pressed in close between his thighs and shoved a hand down to prod his hole. He’d probably taken the boy under less preparation before but at the moment Taemin wasn’t even aroused.
“Jesus.” As Taemin cast around for a spot for his hands amongst the mess of cosmetics and clips and gels, Jinki grabbed a tube of hand cream and strangled out a dollop. “You’d think you’re dick caught fire and the only place to put it out was in my ass-”
Taemin’s grumblings became a shout as Jinki shoved into him with his hastily lubed hard-on, then died down to a groan while he waited for his body to adjust.
Jinki waited rigidly for the signs of discomfort to fade, looking down at Taemin’s face until he could see the stress lines soften, jaw unlock, teeth ease out of bottom lip.
“You okay?”
The dancer arched a bit to test the waters. With a nod, he hooked his ankles behind Jinki’s back.
“Yeah, but Jesus.” Taemin shifted onto his elbows and angled his hips in invitation, but there was still clear whine and whimper in his voice. “I’m going to need fucking crutches after this.”
Jinki pulled out slowly, shuddering, and buried his mouth in Taemin’s hair.
“I’ll make it up to you - I’ll eat you out the whole plane ride home.”
Taemin’s head smacked the mirror with a particularly hard thrust - “gonna hold you to that” - and then he forced himself to ease into the motions, setting their pace hard and fast, working his hips and tensing all the right muscles, determined to get Jinki to come as quickly as possible.
It didn’t take long. Hyper-sensitized after his blowjob to then be offered the strangling heat of Taemin’s ass was too much for Jinki and he found himself hurtling into a climax unprepared. It shook him. His blood boiled, insides molten beneath his skin and he saw light, and shapes and color - mainly orange. He felt as though every last drop of his energy was sucked away into Taemin’s body in waves until abruptly it was all over and he was barely left able to stand.
He continued to shake as he recovered; hunched above Taemin and fogging up the glass of the mirror they leaned against with his labored breath.
Taemin, seemingly unbothered by Jinki’s weight, lifted the favored tube of lipstick, “I’m thinking I should buy more of this.”
He pushed sweat-soaked fringe off his forehead.
“I’ll buy you more.” He held Taemin’s hips still as he pulled his limp dick out of him - Taemin gasped and Jinki kissed the side of his mouth in apology. “I’m going to buy you more make-up, all kinds. And you’ll put it on but nothing else and I’ll fuck you until you come out your eyes.”
Taemin laughed brightly and wrapped his limbs around Jinki as he hauled him up in his arms off the ruined counter top, stumbling back to sit on the stool with the slighter boy spread over his lap. When Taemin relaxed his grip around his neck Jinki caught sight of a few raw looking marks on his elbows. He bent one and examined it, guilt gnawing the center of his chest as he realized he tossed him around too roughly.
Taemin grinned like they had shared a joke, “You’re so aggressive when you need to come, hyung.”
Jinki didn’t answer, worrying over Taemin’s purpling skin.
“Stop.” Taemin pushed him in the chest until he leaned back and let go of his arm. The younger boy dropped his hand down to Jinki’s lap, stuffing it under his damp t-shirt to rub at the flat of his belly. “I like it.”
“You do?”
“I do. You know I do.” He mouth spread a perfect split between smirk and angelic smile. Perfectly Taemin. “It’s like you can’t control yourself when you’re around me.”
“I can’t. And you know I can’t.”
He pulled the tube of lipstick from Taemin’s fingers and applied another layer carefully for him, putting the finishing touches on his boyfriend’s self-satisfied expression.
“You’re beautiful,” he kissed his sweaty neck.
“I love you.”
“I love you more, probably.”
“Hold still.”
Taemin grabbed his face and tilted it toward him as he leaned in, pressing his lips firm and chaste to the side of Jinki’s cheekbone. He pulled back and Jinki looked in the mirror to admire the artfully shaped kiss mark now decorating his skin.
“Look at that. It suits you too.”
Pairing: Jinki/Taemin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: just some sex in a studio dressing room
A/N: This isn't great. I'm not that comfortable writing smut and this is actually the final in a series of six so certain lines might seem ill-fitting, or whatever, because of a lack of context. Feedback is appreciated.
“Do you like it?”
“The…”
“Yeah.” Taemin allowed for a centimeter of space as he puffed a breath out toward his own reflection, dragging his eyes up to Jinki’s in the mirror and blinking slowly, “Kibum-hyung says it suits me.”
Hmming lowly, Jinki pressed his front to Taemin’s back and considered the other in the mirror. They had finished up with a photo shoot only minutes before and were both still dressed as their album coordi noonas saw fit; Taemin wore two toned loafers, rough silk legwarmers unlike Jinki had ever seen (frayed and beaded and utterly useless) that covered his knees like two secrets and ripped jean shorts, burnt amber in color. Across his middle, a sternum bearing white tank top with some geometric rubbish on the front, armholes cut deep to the end of his ribcage. All that fucking stunning build-up of modern teenage boy topped by bloody hair. Jinki laid his hand so that four fingers splayed along the skinny neck, knuckles bubbled over the mockery of an Adam’s apple and he looked closely at the lips stain he was asked to consider (as if he had to be asked).
Taemin’s mouth was the stuff of legends - record setting in Jinki’s mind, Olympic standard - and the light orange lipstick that had been applied only help to emphasize the shape and fatness, shade just dark enough to contrast the milk of his skin. Two plump lips sitting together painted peach and looking just as sweet - Jinki felt he was inclined to agree with Kibum.
Although, he thought, as the rest of his fingers joined his thumb to frame Taemin’s jaw, he could name a few other things that suited the young dancer as well. His mouth wrapped around Jinki’s cock, for one.
The managers had ordered him not to spoil their maknae but he couldn’t help but lean down to whisper with extra lip against Taemin’s earlobe, “You could make garbage bag look lovely, aegi.” He used his teeth to tug one of the new silver studs in Taemin’s cartilage (the company had ordered seven in all, Taemin had cried when he heard) and then another, harder, watching Taemin’s reflection wince and whimper.
“My pretty baby.”
“So you like it?”
He straightened up to grind his blooming erection between Taemin’s shoulder blades and Taemin rolled his head back to look up at him, lips falling further apart. Jinki stabilized Taemin with one hand so he might grind into him harder as the pointer finger of his other hand traced the seam of Taemin’s face.
“Yeah, you could say that.” He smiled, “Now open up.”
Taemin smiled back and did as he was told. The tips of Jinki’s fingers were invited in by a warm pink tongue that immediately got to work moistening them, in between each and licking the salt off his pads eagerly like that had been his game since the start. Jinki had stopped being delicate with Taemin years back; he didn’t hesitate sliding his fingers in further so he could watch Taemin’s mouth stretch to accommodate them.
He hauled Taemin to his feet abruptly by his waist and pulled their bodies flush.
“Lose the shorts.” Taemin had begun unbuckling before Jinki had begun suggesting, stepping from his shoes and kicking the denim into the wall off his ankle after they’d been dropped. Jinki could see the familiar shape of Taemin’s erection against his white underwear and the growing spot of precum, which called his hand up to grope it roughly.
“Fuck.”
Taemin had his eyes squeezed shut while Jinki trained his on his young lover’s rolling hips. He pushed Taemin’s brief down his thighs where they clung and then slipped to pool around his ankles, leaving him bare save for his ever modest knees and the little cover provided by his hiked up shirt. He spotted Taemin’s thin hands inching toward his own cock.
“Ahni - put them back behind my neck. Keep them there.”
The dancer did so after a sour whimper and Jinki sealed Taemin to him tighter, damp fingers dipping into his navel and then dropping down further to roll his balls, ignoring his dick entirely for the time being. Taemin pushed his shoulders back into Jinki’s chest in protest, so Jinki repeated the act a few times until he could see his maknae’s toes spasm against the linoleum.
Taemin turned and crushed his face into his neck, “Jinki…” he panted, “Hyung, please.”
He lifted one of Taemin’s legs to prop it atop the stool he’d been sitting on minutes before, returning his fingers back to Taemin’s mouth for more lubrication.
“How much time do you think we have?”
He shoved his hand deeper when Taemin tried to curse at him around it so Taemin’s head was forced back to rest against the top of his shoulder. It was a little joke of theirs - asking each other things when the other couldn’t physically answer or when he was too far gone to give half a fuck. Like yesterday, while riding his cock Taemin had unrelentingly interrogated him on what Jinki was planning to buy him for his birthday, somehow finagling a new pair of Adidas and a puppy for them to share by the time Jinki came.
“Yeah? You think? So I should hurry up then?”
He replaced his fingers with his lips and sucked up Taemin’s groan as he pushed into him three knuckles deep, pulling out to add another digit and scissoring without any finesse. Jinki was pretty sure he could find Taemin’s prostate half asleep with both hands tied behind his back (had in fact done just as much at least once before) but at the moment was deliberately avoiding it so Taemin didn’t come too quickly. He liked the way Taemin’s body was shaking against him and the taste of quiet whimpers being unloaded in his mouth.
He wasn’t sure why Taemin enjoyed getting fingered so much. Jinki never particularly felt the urge to be entered but his insatiable boyfriend was always trying to get Jinki to fill him up with something - dick, tongue, fingers, fist…whatever the hell happened to be lying around, then usually more dick. As they were now Taemin wouldn’t be able to support himself on his feet if it weren’t for the hold Jinki had around his waist; that’s how much pleasure he was taking from the feel of Jinki inside him.
Taemin let one of his hand fall away from where Jinki had told him to keep it but instead of going to his painful looking erection as Jinki would’ve expected he reached back and gripped his hyung’s wrist. Jinki relinquished control for a while, allowing Taemin to pull his fingers out and then shove them back in again, angling his hips so Jinki hit him just right every time. Jinki took advantage of his view - alternating between looking down at his hand being used to pummel Taemin’s ass and their reflection opposite him, eyes finding the center of Taemin’s endless spread legs, his spasmodically jerking hips and if Jinki wasn’t so sure his turn would be coming soon he would have had to rut helplessly against Taemin’s back at the sight.
They had stopped trying to be quiet Jinki realized, as he switched to watch Taemin’s face closely in the mirror. He looked high. His mouth was wide open as he pressed his forehead to Jinki’s jaw and his body was waving beautifully and beginning to perspire, pouring non-stop encouragements down the column of Jinki’s neck.
Well, his version of encouragements.
“Oh god Jinki. Fucking, fuck.” The door was locked, but you wouldn’t need to open it to figure out what they were doing.
Jinki was almost startled when Taemin came - he hadn’t noticed his own hand trail up the dancer’s narrow thighs to his erection, lighting pinching and massaging the head of Taemin’s cock in the way he knew the younger boy loved. He just caught sight of what it was his front hand was doing to his lover when Taemin threw his head back and cried out, his body constricting around Jinki until his fingers overlapped. Jinki moaned as well, imagining another part of him there instead, helping Taemin ride out the rest of his orgasm by pumping his cock and flexing his hand until Taemin relaxed quiet and wasted against his chest.
He waited half a minute before pulling out of Taemin’s warm body, both hands coming round to hold him up by his hips. Taemin pulled Jinki’s face closer to him. They nuzzled and then kissed in that dirty wet way Taemin liked best.
“Thanks, hyung.”
“My pleasure.”
He pushed his cloth covered cock into Taemin’s ass and the younger boy turned forward to watch them in the mirror - stretching his arms up and then dropping his hand to play with some of the come on his stomach. Together they watched him suck a finger clean.
He stepped out of Jinki’s hold toward the make-up counter, picking out a tube from the mess and quickly reapplied the color that had been mostly rubbed off by Jinki’s hand. He popped his lips and smirked - Jinki glared at him and deliberately unzipped the weird tapered pants the coordi noonas had dressed him up in, pushing them and his boxer briefs down to mid thigh and taking himself in hand, half surprised to see how hard he’d become from just finger-fucking his boyfriend.
Taemin spun around to face him - his shirt was hanging from one shoulder, cropped enough to bare his navel and twirled out around him and that, coupled with the legwarmers and spattered ejaculate made him look to Jinki like some X-rated ballerina.
It was mind-bogglingly erotic.
He gripped the base of his cock, trying not to whimper, and the dancer had the audacity to smirk at it. Fortunately, right after he got to his knees and gestured for Jinki to come to him, which he did with some effort to not look too eager, nearly tripping over the tangle of his pants all the same. He stopped when the head of his dick was only a handful of centimeters from the ginger lips, meeting wide eyes through the dark red fringe of Taemin’s hair. Coy and dirty, Taemin leaned in toward him at a leisured pace, backing off again when Jinki sighed in excitement.
His sigh became an annoyed groan and he batted a hand at Taemin’s head. Mercilessly child-like, again Taemin popped his lips.
“You’re such a slut, seriously.” Jinki yanked at his bangs, utterly frustrated, ground the heel of his palm into his eye and then dropped it back to his side.
“Seriously.” Taemin offered a poor imitation of his voice and massaged both of Jinki’s thighs. “You mean a tease. And no, I’m not.”
Taemin took his wrist in hand and led his fingers to his hair, letting out a pleased grunt when Jinki fisted it and hauled him the rest of the way forward. He tickled his balls and didn’t resist Jinki when he forced himself into his mouth, loosening his jaw and lolling out his tongue with almost professional ease.
“Shit.”
Jinki’s knees felt weak and his free hand grasped the counter for support. He stared hard at the wall and tried to project onto it the least sexy image that came to mind - Kang Ho Dong buggering Minho successfully quashed his urge to come at once down Taemin’s throat. He looked back down and met Taemin’s dark eyes as he circled the very end of Jinki’s dick with puckered lips, pressing his tongue flat from underneath then up into the slit.
He tensed his fingers a second time into a rough twist, “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
The top half of Taemin’s face looked smug but he complied and dragged his lips all the way down to the very base. Jinki was impressed - in this way Taemin always impressed him. The size of his own dick wasn’t something that particularly weighed on his mind; he could say he was confident and that was that. It wasn’t unless he was watching inch after inch slip away down Taemin’s throat, as euphoria began picking apart his senses, that he appreciated his own length and girth. He’d consequently grow near delirious in gratitude toward Taemin and how he made it look so easy. Like now, unbothered by the messy wet sounds he made when he bobbed - once, twice, then humming when every last centimeter of Jinki was stuffed inside of him and crammed against the back of his throat.
All the moments with his lover were special, but the one’s that looked liked this were the types with which Jinki sincerely wished he could line the inside of his skull.
And, as if the fates themselves could not agree more, at the precise instant the thought crossed his mind out of his periphery he saw Kibum’s camera on the counter by his hand.
His next move was kind of like those evenings when he’d come back to the dorms after far too much drinking with his hyungs - how even though he could barely walk straight most of the time when sober, on those shitfaced nights he’d inevitably cook himself a full meal and find his way to Taemin’s bed. And no matter how many people he had drunk under the table he’d figure out how to strip down enough to get his dick free and then there would just be the matter of convincing Taemin to do something with it. His efforts now were kind of like that. Because even while he felt like his mind was being electrocuted by pleasure shooting up from his cock he worked out how to turn on the unfamiliar devise, focus enough to make sure Taemin fit in the view and press down.
“Taemin - smile.” Click, Flash.
Taemin unhooked his face from Jinki’s pelvis and rolled his eyes. As a couple they had taken far greater risks, so Jinki wasn’t surprised when Taemin continued on with the blowjob unbothered, licking a long stripe down the vein of Jinki cock and then mouthing his balls till he swore. Stiff fingers readied the camera a second time. From the viewfinder he watched Taemin circle his lips around the head of his dick again and waited for the perfect picture - Taemin looking up at him with kohl lined eyes, one hand with its fingers curled around the top hem of him pants, the other around the base of his cock which was about an inch deep past his lips. Click, Flash.
He dropped the camera into its owner’s bag on the chair beside him, the pictures following into a side pocket. Jinki imagined Kibum’s face when he found it with a smirk.
Taemin freed his mouth of its burden, continuing to pump Jinki as he watched him try to tuck away the photos.
“You shouldn’t, hyung,” he murmured as he circled the tip with his thumb, “you know he wants to fuck me.”
Jinki pushed the bag away and rolled his head back to look at the ceiling. He could feel Taemin lying tiny kisses to the tops of his thighs, “Maybe I’ll let him.”
The pecks became a hard bite.
“Shit!”
Taemin released his chunk of flesh and they both stared at the wet sore.
“Well,” Jinki tried to reason while directing Taemin back to his dick with both his palms against the dancer’s cheeks, “we should at least let him watch.”
Taemin snorted and relaxed his neck and shoulders as Jinki began to fuck his mouth in earnest, pulling nearly all the way out and then slamming in again down the silky slide of Taemin’s throat. This was something Taemin had never had a problem with - he had nothing even resembling a gag reflex and so Jinki had become spoiled and ungentlemanly and usually felt bad for it afterwards. He watched his cock pull saliva from Taemin’s mouth onto his chin and thought despite that the glint of concentration in Taemin’s eyes was oddly adorable.
Maybe it was his angle - the sight of Taemin’s heels pushing into his ass from within a nearby floor length mirror, how when Jinki pushed harder in his mouth and he bounced his cheeks spread open enough for Jinki to see his entrance - but whatever the reason he suddenly felt a burning need to be cock-deep into a different end of Taemin.
He would have laughed at the loud, alarmed squawk his lover let out when he was suddenly heaved up and off his feet but he was too busy making sure there was space for Taemin’s ass where he deposited him on the counter. His skinny legs whipped around Jinki’s waist out of instinct, one arm flying out to catch the mirror so his back wouldn’t slam into it too hard. Jinki positioned Taemin’s heels on the countertop, pressed in close between his thighs and shoved a hand down to prod his hole. He’d probably taken the boy under less preparation before but at the moment Taemin wasn’t even aroused.
“Jesus.” As Taemin cast around for a spot for his hands amongst the mess of cosmetics and clips and gels, Jinki grabbed a tube of hand cream and strangled out a dollop. “You’d think you’re dick caught fire and the only place to put it out was in my ass-”
Taemin’s grumblings became a shout as Jinki shoved into him with his hastily lubed hard-on, then died down to a groan while he waited for his body to adjust.
Jinki waited rigidly for the signs of discomfort to fade, looking down at Taemin’s face until he could see the stress lines soften, jaw unlock, teeth ease out of bottom lip.
“You okay?”
The dancer arched a bit to test the waters. With a nod, he hooked his ankles behind Jinki’s back.
“Yeah, but Jesus.” Taemin shifted onto his elbows and angled his hips in invitation, but there was still clear whine and whimper in his voice. “I’m going to need fucking crutches after this.”
Jinki pulled out slowly, shuddering, and buried his mouth in Taemin’s hair.
“I’ll make it up to you - I’ll eat you out the whole plane ride home.”
Taemin’s head smacked the mirror with a particularly hard thrust - “gonna hold you to that” - and then he forced himself to ease into the motions, setting their pace hard and fast, working his hips and tensing all the right muscles, determined to get Jinki to come as quickly as possible.
It didn’t take long. Hyper-sensitized after his blowjob to then be offered the strangling heat of Taemin’s ass was too much for Jinki and he found himself hurtling into a climax unprepared. It shook him. His blood boiled, insides molten beneath his skin and he saw light, and shapes and color - mainly orange. He felt as though every last drop of his energy was sucked away into Taemin’s body in waves until abruptly it was all over and he was barely left able to stand.
He continued to shake as he recovered; hunched above Taemin and fogging up the glass of the mirror they leaned against with his labored breath.
Taemin, seemingly unbothered by Jinki’s weight, lifted the favored tube of lipstick, “I’m thinking I should buy more of this.”
He pushed sweat-soaked fringe off his forehead.
“I’ll buy you more.” He held Taemin’s hips still as he pulled his limp dick out of him - Taemin gasped and Jinki kissed the side of his mouth in apology. “I’m going to buy you more make-up, all kinds. And you’ll put it on but nothing else and I’ll fuck you until you come out your eyes.”
Taemin laughed brightly and wrapped his limbs around Jinki as he hauled him up in his arms off the ruined counter top, stumbling back to sit on the stool with the slighter boy spread over his lap. When Taemin relaxed his grip around his neck Jinki caught sight of a few raw looking marks on his elbows. He bent one and examined it, guilt gnawing the center of his chest as he realized he tossed him around too roughly.
Taemin grinned like they had shared a joke, “You’re so aggressive when you need to come, hyung.”
Jinki didn’t answer, worrying over Taemin’s purpling skin.
“Stop.” Taemin pushed him in the chest until he leaned back and let go of his arm. The younger boy dropped his hand down to Jinki’s lap, stuffing it under his damp t-shirt to rub at the flat of his belly. “I like it.”
“You do?”
“I do. You know I do.” He mouth spread a perfect split between smirk and angelic smile. Perfectly Taemin. “It’s like you can’t control yourself when you’re around me.”
“I can’t. And you know I can’t.”
He pulled the tube of lipstick from Taemin’s fingers and applied another layer carefully for him, putting the finishing touches on his boyfriend’s self-satisfied expression.
“You’re beautiful,” he kissed his sweaty neck.
“I love you.”
“I love you more, probably.”
“Hold still.”
Taemin grabbed his face and tilted it toward him as he leaned in, pressing his lips firm and chaste to the side of Jinki’s cheekbone. He pulled back and Jinki looked in the mirror to admire the artfully shaped kiss mark now decorating his skin.
“Look at that. It suits you too.”