Ash
Title: Ash
Rating: R
Pairing: Jaehyo / Zico
Warnings: Sexual content
Genre: AU, smut
Disclaimer: I do not own Block B.
It’s over. After three years of fighting for their freedom and lives, after decades of life under the totalitarian government that has controlled every part of their lives, it’s finally over. The war is over, the government overthrown, and gone with the bombs and screaming and ash in the air are the terrors and restless nights of the freedom fighters.
Jiho looks around himself, looks at his companions - celebrations are on full force, wine bottles are being passed around, music is loud, someone is on the ground clutching a book and crying. Everything that was prohibited by the government - literature, art, music, dance - everything that they lost thirty-seven years ago is now all around them, filling the air with happiness and new hope. There are people dancing on the streets, small groups huddled together sharing their artwork, people painting on the walls of buildings because, finally, no one is there to stop them. Colors bloom everywhere, countless people spraying every possible surface with paint, and it makes the still smoking city look like spring has come and is pushing winter away.
But the price they have paid is horrible.
Woo Jiho is not an emotional man - or at least, he didn’t use to be. But war changes a person. Losing comrades, brothers, sisters, parents and children - it changes people, and Jiho’s heart breaks as he walks around the edges of the square they are celebrating at. He can feel the pain, clawing deep inside his chest as he watches Yongguk, Himchan and Youngjae cradle Daehyun’s limp body in their arms, refusing to let go even though paramedics want to take him away, as he remembers Hyuna’s screams of Gayoon’s name on the battle field, remembers the lost look on Junhong’s face as he yells for Jongup-hyung until his voice goes hoarse. He’s pretty sure Taeil is still sitting beside Jihoon’s bed, holding his hand while singing quietly. He’s been there for two weeks now, only coming out when he is required in strategy meetings, but no matter how much he sings, how much he pleads and begs for Jihoon to wake up, the boy’s coma is as deep as when he first fell into it.
Jiho sighs, startles when a hand clasps on his shoulder. He glances behind himself, and smiles at a tiredly grinning Kyung. ”Yo, general,” Kyung greets, making Jiho roll his eyes. ”Cut the crap, Park Kyung. How are Dongjun, Jaebeom and Youngjun?” Kyung’s face goes serious, and he breathes in deep. ”Dongjun’s state is stable, Jaebeom is finally awake, and um… Youngjun fell into a coma. Donghyun won’t stop crying. Also, Baekhyun’s wound’s gotten infected.”
Jiho sighs, again, feels the familiar bitterness and pity set in. ”Make sure Donghyun calms down and Zi Tao doesn’t throw a fit. I don’t need a hysteric martial artist breaking stuff because his favorite hyung’s condition is worsening.” Kyung nods, and swallows. Jiho sees his throat trembling, like he’s holding back tears, and frowns. ”Is something wrong?”
Kyung breathes in, and out, and swallows again. ”No. That’s kind of the thing, you know. Nothing’s wrong.” There’s a weak grin on his lips, and Jiho’s heart breaks all over again as he takes in his best friend’s hollowed cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes, the pale, unhealthy color of his skin, the way clothes that used to fit him perfectly hang loose on his frame. ”Hey” he says softly, reaching to pat Kyung on the shoulder. ”It’s okay to cry. After all the crap we’ve been through, I think we’re allowed a few tears.”
Kyung chokes a sob, and tries to laugh instead, the sound that comes out ending up being mostly pathetic. ”Some general you are, cheesy little shit.” Jiho frowns. ”Hey, I’m trying to comfort you here and you call me shit. Ungrateful fuckface.”
Kyung grins, brighter this time, and waves Jiho off as he turns around. ”Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m going to find Minhyuk and get shitfaced. See you later, Woo Cheeseball” he hollers as he walks away, eyes already searching for their older friend. Jiho scoffs, but smiles nonetheless. Seeing Kyung happy felt good - it made him feel like all the fighting, all the bloodshed and the torture they had gone through wasn’t for nothing.
He heads for his room in an underground bunker, stretching his arms lazily and grimacing as an old wound on his side stings. He’s planning to take a warm shower and change out of the dirty clothes he’s in, and then see if he has energy to go back to celebrate with the others. He knows he’s the person everyone wants to see tonight, the hero, the person who guided them all into freedom, but he doesn’t feel like being in the spotlight - not tonight, not now that the battles are finally over and he can go to sleep without being afraid of being bombarded into a thousand pieces.
Jiho opens the door to his room, and is only mildly surprised when he notices the lights are on. ”One day I’ll sue you for burglary” he shoots at the figure lying on his bed, and sheds his dirty army coat. ”You can’t, I’ve never actually broken in, I have a keycard” comes a response. Jiho rolls his eyes as he tugs his shirt over his head and ditches it on the floor, leaving him in a wifebeater. ”How clever. Maybe I’ll just shoot you then” he muses, kicking his boots off, not caring that his socks go with them.
”No you won’t.” Arms wind around his waist, and there’s a warm body pressing against his back. ”Why wouldn’t I? I’ve shot hundreds of people” Jiho mutters, working his belt open. He doesn’t get the task finished though, before he’s flipped around and met with a pair of warm eyes and a mischievous grin. ”Because none of them were as hot as I am” Jaehyo quips, and takes away Jiho’s chance to shoot a witty response by kissing him.
Jiho sighs into the kiss, arms winding around Jaehyo’s shoulders, and forgets about his pants for a moment. He hums appreciatively as Jaehyo’s fingers knead into his lower back, gentle but firm, rubbing out the knots in his muscles, and answers with threading his fingers in Jaehyo’s hair, combing through the silky black locks. ”I should take a shower” he murmurs against the older boy’s mouth, noticing how he smells faintly like the lemon-scented shampoo Jiho uses. ”Did you use my shower?”
Jaehyo hums, lazily licking a stripe across Jiho’s lower lip. ”Maybe.” Jiho rolls his eyes, tugging gently on Jaehyo’s hair. ”I’m taking it you used my shampoo too. You leech, why don’t you sleep in your own room? Kyung is not that bad as a roommate.” Jaehyo wrinkles his nose. ”He snores. You know he does.” Of course Jiho knows. He’s lived with Kyung for years, enough to know the guy snores like a battalion of chainsaws. Which is exactly why he told Jaehyo to share a room with Kyung - as the general he got his own room, and when Kyung’s snoring got too loud Jaehyo had no choice but to seek refuge in Jiho’s room. A masterplan.
”You’re just being whiny” Jiho declares, both of them knowing full well nobody could stand the intensity that is Park Kyung’s snoring. ”But seriously, I want to take a shower. I’m covered in ash and sweat and shit, and my muscles hurt. Let me go.”
Jaehyo smirks, and Jiho knows that look, but honestly he really should take a shower and go greet a few people at the party and check if nothing new has come up and- ”there’s no point in taking a shower” Jaehyo murmurs against his mouth ”when I’m going to get you dirty again anyway.”
Jiho inhales deep, and then Jaehyo’s mouth is on his, demanding and hot and perfect and Jiho can’t help but comply, letting the older soldier walk him to the bed. They fall down, a tangle of limbs and heat, Jiho’s tongue working itself into Jaehyo’s mouth as Jaehyo pulls at his wifebeater, breaking the kiss to get first Jiho’s and then his own shirt off and on the floor.
Jaehyo presses Jiho into the mattress with one hand on his hip, the other working on his pants as he arches his neck against Jiho’s mouth, the general’s lips traveling towards his collarbones hastily, leaving small red marks blooming on his pale skin. Jiho groans as Jaehyo pulls his pants and underwear down, over his hips, nails accidentally scraping the skin on his thigh.
Jaehyo’s hands wander over Jiho’s sides and hips, palms gliding over scars, old and new, as Jiho kicks his pants off the rest of the way. The blond archs into the touch of Jaehyo’s hands, pleasantly warm and soft, and he sighs contently. The best thing about Jaehyo, to Jiho, is the warmth - the soothing feeling of being cared for and needed in a way that doesn’t require saving a nation, simple squeezes on his hand and warm kisses when he needs the encouragement the most.
Also the thrilling possibility of giving up all power. After having practically had the faith of their nation on his shoulders for almost two years Jiho is tired of power, tired of control and responsibility, so nothing in the world feels better to him than giving up everything to Jaehyo and simply letting him work his wired, stressed body into oblivion. It feels good, trusting himself in someone else’s hands when he’s usually the one taking care of thousands, thousands of people.
Jaehyo moans softly as Jiho sucks on the junction between his neck and shoulder, leaving a purplish lovebite blooming on his skin. He answers by splaying one hand on Jiho’s abdomen, holding him down while taking hold of his cock. Jiho grunts, and reaches out, grabbing Jaehyo’s forearm while biting into his own wrist to muffle the sounds.
Jaehyo’s lips attach themselves to Jiho’s neck, teeth scraping against skin. Jiho tastes faintly like ash, dust and sweat, but it doesn’t matter when he’s panting and whining into his wrist like that, eyes squeezed shut and fingers clenching around Jaehyo’s arm.
Jaehyo kisses a trail up Jiho’s neck and then down, to his chest, all the while jerking him off with slow, lazy flicks of his wrist. When he squeezes a little harder Jiho draws in a shuddering breath. ”Hyung” he breathes. ”Hyung, please.” Jaehyo chuckles, but complies, letting go. ”Lay on your stomach” he commands, his tone soft, but making it clear he’s not asking. Jiho turns over, shoulders hunched as he tries to steady his breathing, hips twitching uncomfortably.
”Jiho” Jaehyo murmurs, crouching over his leader’s frame that seems so frail, so pale and malnourished on the bed. He remembers a time when Jiho’s eyes had charisma in them, when his cheeks were round and healthy and his thighs had a nice softness to them. But that was a long time ago, and as he takes in the thin, wiry form of the soldier under him a surge of tenderness rushes through his veins. This is not Zico under him, not the great leader who lead them to victory - this is Woo Jiho, a boy who loves rap music and good food, who cried two weeks after losing his big brother, who still calls ”Jiseok-hyung, Jiseok-hyung” in his sleep when nightmares of fire and terror haunt him.
”Jiho” Jaehyo calls again, voice soft as he glides his mouth along Jiho’s spine, supporting himself on one arm as his other hand works its way between Jiho’s body and the mattress. Jiho answers the call with a soft whine, lifting his hips off the bed so Jaehyo can wrap long fingers around his cock again. He muffles a moan against a pillow, and Jaehyo watches, fascinated, how his fingers curl in the sheets. ”Jiho, you’re so beautiful” he whispers against the general’s shoulder blades, biting gently into the skin. Jiho moans, hips pushing back against Jaehyo’s crotch, and then thrusting forward, seeking friction. ”Jaehyo” he cries out, his voice muffled by a pillow, and Jaehyo’s head spins with want and affection.
Jaehyo does quick work of his own pants and pushes them down to his thighs, then leans more of his weight on Jiho’s back. He nudges his crotch against Jiho’s ass, drawing a hoarse moan from the blond’s throat. He loves the way Jiho’s back arches in the slightest of ways as he pushes back against Jaehyo, needy for more.
Jaehyo tightens his grip on Jiho’s cock, working him with fast jerks as he grinds his hips against the soldier’s ass, the feeling of his cock sliding between Jiho’s cheeks making his eyes roll back in his head. He crouches over Jiho, bites at his neck whispering dirty nothings in his ear, all the while rutting against the younger and holding his hips so there’s no possibility of thrusting into his fist.
Jiho’s moans get shorter, breathier, the long, drawn out ”ahhs” turning into small ”ohs” and whines, and Jaehyo can feel the leader’s thighs quivering, can feel his back bending like a bow. Then Jiho’s pushing back against his hips, rutting back instead of thrusting forward, and Jaehyo moans, long and breathy. The knot in the pit of his stomach is tightening, making the movements of his hips faster, jerkier, and now Jiho is chanting his name, a breathy mantra of ”ah, Jaehyo, Jaehyo, ah, ah, ah” before he gasps, thighs and ass clenching, and then he’s coming all over Jaehyo’s hand. The sound he makes, an almost desperate, choked out moan, is what triggers Jaehyo’s orgasm, and he comes between Jiho’s asscheeks, long and hard before collapsing on top of Jiho.
They try to even out their breathings together for a while, before Jaehyo has the courtesy of rolling off Jiho. He props himself up on one elbow, and brushes blond bangs off Jiho’s sweaty face, smiling down at him. ”Go take that shower” he murmurs, bending down to press a lingering kiss on the younger male’s plump lips. Jiho hums into the kiss, and nods. He gets up and retreats into the bathroom, looking back at Jaehyo and directing a faint smile at him before closing the door.
Jaehyo smiles at the door and starts changing the sheets as he hears the sound of running water. He likes post-orgasmic Jiho the best - his posture always seems so relaxed, his shoulders a little less tense than usual, his mental walls down and eyes appreciative as he looks at Jaehyo after coming. It makes Jaehyo feel important, makes him feel like he can do something for the boy who never cries, unless his big brother is mentioned.
When Jiho emerges from the bathroom, hair damp and not bothering with a towel, Jaehyo has changed the sheets and is lying under the covers. Jiho stops for a moment, eyes his room’s door with reluctant eyes. ”I… I should probably go back to the party” he says, slowly, and Jaehyo scoffs. ”No way. Come here, there’s been enough stress for you for one evening. Or a lifetime. Or three.”
Jiho snorts as he crawls under the blanket, and yawns as he feels all power quickly leaving his muscles. It’s comfortable, and Jaehyo’s skin is smooth and warm and arms strong as they wind around his waist. ”I should go check on the wounded” he mutters, not exactly convincing while snuggling against Jaehyo’s neck. ”Kyung will come inform you if something breaking happens” the older soldier reasons, and reaches the close the lights. ”Come on, general. Sleep tonight. It’s your night after all.”
Jiho doesn’t answer him, simply because he can’t - he’s off to dreamland, where things are better and colors bloom, and there’s no ash in the air. Jaehyo smiles, and hopes the young leader dreams of a beautiful future as he tucks Jiho and himself better under the blanket and closes his eyes, welcoming a night without a fear of fire and death.
A/N: …I still don’t know if I like this one. It’s. Weird. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this alskf. I like the AU though, might write a U-Bomb oneshot based on this setting too.
Rating: R
Pairing: Jaehyo / Zico
Warnings: Sexual content
Genre: AU, smut
Disclaimer: I do not own Block B.
It’s over. After three years of fighting for their freedom and lives, after decades of life under the totalitarian government that has controlled every part of their lives, it’s finally over. The war is over, the government overthrown, and gone with the bombs and screaming and ash in the air are the terrors and restless nights of the freedom fighters.
Jiho looks around himself, looks at his companions - celebrations are on full force, wine bottles are being passed around, music is loud, someone is on the ground clutching a book and crying. Everything that was prohibited by the government - literature, art, music, dance - everything that they lost thirty-seven years ago is now all around them, filling the air with happiness and new hope. There are people dancing on the streets, small groups huddled together sharing their artwork, people painting on the walls of buildings because, finally, no one is there to stop them. Colors bloom everywhere, countless people spraying every possible surface with paint, and it makes the still smoking city look like spring has come and is pushing winter away.
But the price they have paid is horrible.
Woo Jiho is not an emotional man - or at least, he didn’t use to be. But war changes a person. Losing comrades, brothers, sisters, parents and children - it changes people, and Jiho’s heart breaks as he walks around the edges of the square they are celebrating at. He can feel the pain, clawing deep inside his chest as he watches Yongguk, Himchan and Youngjae cradle Daehyun’s limp body in their arms, refusing to let go even though paramedics want to take him away, as he remembers Hyuna’s screams of Gayoon’s name on the battle field, remembers the lost look on Junhong’s face as he yells for Jongup-hyung until his voice goes hoarse. He’s pretty sure Taeil is still sitting beside Jihoon’s bed, holding his hand while singing quietly. He’s been there for two weeks now, only coming out when he is required in strategy meetings, but no matter how much he sings, how much he pleads and begs for Jihoon to wake up, the boy’s coma is as deep as when he first fell into it.
Jiho sighs, startles when a hand clasps on his shoulder. He glances behind himself, and smiles at a tiredly grinning Kyung. ”Yo, general,” Kyung greets, making Jiho roll his eyes. ”Cut the crap, Park Kyung. How are Dongjun, Jaebeom and Youngjun?” Kyung’s face goes serious, and he breathes in deep. ”Dongjun’s state is stable, Jaebeom is finally awake, and um… Youngjun fell into a coma. Donghyun won’t stop crying. Also, Baekhyun’s wound’s gotten infected.”
Jiho sighs, again, feels the familiar bitterness and pity set in. ”Make sure Donghyun calms down and Zi Tao doesn’t throw a fit. I don’t need a hysteric martial artist breaking stuff because his favorite hyung’s condition is worsening.” Kyung nods, and swallows. Jiho sees his throat trembling, like he’s holding back tears, and frowns. ”Is something wrong?”
Kyung breathes in, and out, and swallows again. ”No. That’s kind of the thing, you know. Nothing’s wrong.” There’s a weak grin on his lips, and Jiho’s heart breaks all over again as he takes in his best friend’s hollowed cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes, the pale, unhealthy color of his skin, the way clothes that used to fit him perfectly hang loose on his frame. ”Hey” he says softly, reaching to pat Kyung on the shoulder. ”It’s okay to cry. After all the crap we’ve been through, I think we’re allowed a few tears.”
Kyung chokes a sob, and tries to laugh instead, the sound that comes out ending up being mostly pathetic. ”Some general you are, cheesy little shit.” Jiho frowns. ”Hey, I’m trying to comfort you here and you call me shit. Ungrateful fuckface.”
Kyung grins, brighter this time, and waves Jiho off as he turns around. ”Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m going to find Minhyuk and get shitfaced. See you later, Woo Cheeseball” he hollers as he walks away, eyes already searching for their older friend. Jiho scoffs, but smiles nonetheless. Seeing Kyung happy felt good - it made him feel like all the fighting, all the bloodshed and the torture they had gone through wasn’t for nothing.
He heads for his room in an underground bunker, stretching his arms lazily and grimacing as an old wound on his side stings. He’s planning to take a warm shower and change out of the dirty clothes he’s in, and then see if he has energy to go back to celebrate with the others. He knows he’s the person everyone wants to see tonight, the hero, the person who guided them all into freedom, but he doesn’t feel like being in the spotlight - not tonight, not now that the battles are finally over and he can go to sleep without being afraid of being bombarded into a thousand pieces.
Jiho opens the door to his room, and is only mildly surprised when he notices the lights are on. ”One day I’ll sue you for burglary” he shoots at the figure lying on his bed, and sheds his dirty army coat. ”You can’t, I’ve never actually broken in, I have a keycard” comes a response. Jiho rolls his eyes as he tugs his shirt over his head and ditches it on the floor, leaving him in a wifebeater. ”How clever. Maybe I’ll just shoot you then” he muses, kicking his boots off, not caring that his socks go with them.
”No you won’t.” Arms wind around his waist, and there’s a warm body pressing against his back. ”Why wouldn’t I? I’ve shot hundreds of people” Jiho mutters, working his belt open. He doesn’t get the task finished though, before he’s flipped around and met with a pair of warm eyes and a mischievous grin. ”Because none of them were as hot as I am” Jaehyo quips, and takes away Jiho’s chance to shoot a witty response by kissing him.
Jiho sighs into the kiss, arms winding around Jaehyo’s shoulders, and forgets about his pants for a moment. He hums appreciatively as Jaehyo’s fingers knead into his lower back, gentle but firm, rubbing out the knots in his muscles, and answers with threading his fingers in Jaehyo’s hair, combing through the silky black locks. ”I should take a shower” he murmurs against the older boy’s mouth, noticing how he smells faintly like the lemon-scented shampoo Jiho uses. ”Did you use my shower?”
Jaehyo hums, lazily licking a stripe across Jiho’s lower lip. ”Maybe.” Jiho rolls his eyes, tugging gently on Jaehyo’s hair. ”I’m taking it you used my shampoo too. You leech, why don’t you sleep in your own room? Kyung is not that bad as a roommate.” Jaehyo wrinkles his nose. ”He snores. You know he does.” Of course Jiho knows. He’s lived with Kyung for years, enough to know the guy snores like a battalion of chainsaws. Which is exactly why he told Jaehyo to share a room with Kyung - as the general he got his own room, and when Kyung’s snoring got too loud Jaehyo had no choice but to seek refuge in Jiho’s room. A masterplan.
”You’re just being whiny” Jiho declares, both of them knowing full well nobody could stand the intensity that is Park Kyung’s snoring. ”But seriously, I want to take a shower. I’m covered in ash and sweat and shit, and my muscles hurt. Let me go.”
Jaehyo smirks, and Jiho knows that look, but honestly he really should take a shower and go greet a few people at the party and check if nothing new has come up and- ”there’s no point in taking a shower” Jaehyo murmurs against his mouth ”when I’m going to get you dirty again anyway.”
Jiho inhales deep, and then Jaehyo’s mouth is on his, demanding and hot and perfect and Jiho can’t help but comply, letting the older soldier walk him to the bed. They fall down, a tangle of limbs and heat, Jiho’s tongue working itself into Jaehyo’s mouth as Jaehyo pulls at his wifebeater, breaking the kiss to get first Jiho’s and then his own shirt off and on the floor.
Jaehyo presses Jiho into the mattress with one hand on his hip, the other working on his pants as he arches his neck against Jiho’s mouth, the general’s lips traveling towards his collarbones hastily, leaving small red marks blooming on his pale skin. Jiho groans as Jaehyo pulls his pants and underwear down, over his hips, nails accidentally scraping the skin on his thigh.
Jaehyo’s hands wander over Jiho’s sides and hips, palms gliding over scars, old and new, as Jiho kicks his pants off the rest of the way. The blond archs into the touch of Jaehyo’s hands, pleasantly warm and soft, and he sighs contently. The best thing about Jaehyo, to Jiho, is the warmth - the soothing feeling of being cared for and needed in a way that doesn’t require saving a nation, simple squeezes on his hand and warm kisses when he needs the encouragement the most.
Also the thrilling possibility of giving up all power. After having practically had the faith of their nation on his shoulders for almost two years Jiho is tired of power, tired of control and responsibility, so nothing in the world feels better to him than giving up everything to Jaehyo and simply letting him work his wired, stressed body into oblivion. It feels good, trusting himself in someone else’s hands when he’s usually the one taking care of thousands, thousands of people.
Jaehyo moans softly as Jiho sucks on the junction between his neck and shoulder, leaving a purplish lovebite blooming on his skin. He answers by splaying one hand on Jiho’s abdomen, holding him down while taking hold of his cock. Jiho grunts, and reaches out, grabbing Jaehyo’s forearm while biting into his own wrist to muffle the sounds.
Jaehyo’s lips attach themselves to Jiho’s neck, teeth scraping against skin. Jiho tastes faintly like ash, dust and sweat, but it doesn’t matter when he’s panting and whining into his wrist like that, eyes squeezed shut and fingers clenching around Jaehyo’s arm.
Jaehyo kisses a trail up Jiho’s neck and then down, to his chest, all the while jerking him off with slow, lazy flicks of his wrist. When he squeezes a little harder Jiho draws in a shuddering breath. ”Hyung” he breathes. ”Hyung, please.” Jaehyo chuckles, but complies, letting go. ”Lay on your stomach” he commands, his tone soft, but making it clear he’s not asking. Jiho turns over, shoulders hunched as he tries to steady his breathing, hips twitching uncomfortably.
”Jiho” Jaehyo murmurs, crouching over his leader’s frame that seems so frail, so pale and malnourished on the bed. He remembers a time when Jiho’s eyes had charisma in them, when his cheeks were round and healthy and his thighs had a nice softness to them. But that was a long time ago, and as he takes in the thin, wiry form of the soldier under him a surge of tenderness rushes through his veins. This is not Zico under him, not the great leader who lead them to victory - this is Woo Jiho, a boy who loves rap music and good food, who cried two weeks after losing his big brother, who still calls ”Jiseok-hyung, Jiseok-hyung” in his sleep when nightmares of fire and terror haunt him.
”Jiho” Jaehyo calls again, voice soft as he glides his mouth along Jiho’s spine, supporting himself on one arm as his other hand works its way between Jiho’s body and the mattress. Jiho answers the call with a soft whine, lifting his hips off the bed so Jaehyo can wrap long fingers around his cock again. He muffles a moan against a pillow, and Jaehyo watches, fascinated, how his fingers curl in the sheets. ”Jiho, you’re so beautiful” he whispers against the general’s shoulder blades, biting gently into the skin. Jiho moans, hips pushing back against Jaehyo’s crotch, and then thrusting forward, seeking friction. ”Jaehyo” he cries out, his voice muffled by a pillow, and Jaehyo’s head spins with want and affection.
Jaehyo does quick work of his own pants and pushes them down to his thighs, then leans more of his weight on Jiho’s back. He nudges his crotch against Jiho’s ass, drawing a hoarse moan from the blond’s throat. He loves the way Jiho’s back arches in the slightest of ways as he pushes back against Jaehyo, needy for more.
Jaehyo tightens his grip on Jiho’s cock, working him with fast jerks as he grinds his hips against the soldier’s ass, the feeling of his cock sliding between Jiho’s cheeks making his eyes roll back in his head. He crouches over Jiho, bites at his neck whispering dirty nothings in his ear, all the while rutting against the younger and holding his hips so there’s no possibility of thrusting into his fist.
Jiho’s moans get shorter, breathier, the long, drawn out ”ahhs” turning into small ”ohs” and whines, and Jaehyo can feel the leader’s thighs quivering, can feel his back bending like a bow. Then Jiho’s pushing back against his hips, rutting back instead of thrusting forward, and Jaehyo moans, long and breathy. The knot in the pit of his stomach is tightening, making the movements of his hips faster, jerkier, and now Jiho is chanting his name, a breathy mantra of ”ah, Jaehyo, Jaehyo, ah, ah, ah” before he gasps, thighs and ass clenching, and then he’s coming all over Jaehyo’s hand. The sound he makes, an almost desperate, choked out moan, is what triggers Jaehyo’s orgasm, and he comes between Jiho’s asscheeks, long and hard before collapsing on top of Jiho.
They try to even out their breathings together for a while, before Jaehyo has the courtesy of rolling off Jiho. He props himself up on one elbow, and brushes blond bangs off Jiho’s sweaty face, smiling down at him. ”Go take that shower” he murmurs, bending down to press a lingering kiss on the younger male’s plump lips. Jiho hums into the kiss, and nods. He gets up and retreats into the bathroom, looking back at Jaehyo and directing a faint smile at him before closing the door.
Jaehyo smiles at the door and starts changing the sheets as he hears the sound of running water. He likes post-orgasmic Jiho the best - his posture always seems so relaxed, his shoulders a little less tense than usual, his mental walls down and eyes appreciative as he looks at Jaehyo after coming. It makes Jaehyo feel important, makes him feel like he can do something for the boy who never cries, unless his big brother is mentioned.
When Jiho emerges from the bathroom, hair damp and not bothering with a towel, Jaehyo has changed the sheets and is lying under the covers. Jiho stops for a moment, eyes his room’s door with reluctant eyes. ”I… I should probably go back to the party” he says, slowly, and Jaehyo scoffs. ”No way. Come here, there’s been enough stress for you for one evening. Or a lifetime. Or three.”
Jiho snorts as he crawls under the blanket, and yawns as he feels all power quickly leaving his muscles. It’s comfortable, and Jaehyo’s skin is smooth and warm and arms strong as they wind around his waist. ”I should go check on the wounded” he mutters, not exactly convincing while snuggling against Jaehyo’s neck. ”Kyung will come inform you if something breaking happens” the older soldier reasons, and reaches the close the lights. ”Come on, general. Sleep tonight. It’s your night after all.”
Jiho doesn’t answer him, simply because he can’t - he’s off to dreamland, where things are better and colors bloom, and there’s no ash in the air. Jaehyo smiles, and hopes the young leader dreams of a beautiful future as he tucks Jiho and himself better under the blanket and closes his eyes, welcoming a night without a fear of fire and death.
A/N: …I still don’t know if I like this one. It’s. Weird. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this alskf. I like the AU though, might write a U-Bomb oneshot based on this setting too.