P035: What Turns You On?
From: noonagon
Title: What Turns You On?
Prompt Code: P035
Rating: NC-17
Length: 4745 words
Summary: External perfectionist has a hard time exposing his internal imperfections to someone he loves. Or something.
Notes: //screaming out of my ass
i actually started watching the switch girl drama to get into the heart and soul of the au
lol
thank u to my beta for kicking my ass into gear
please enjoy my shitty jokes….
Jongdae’s room is painted in creams and browns. The late afternoon sun casts a milky warmth from the walls to the sheets. It’s clean but not unlived in; both Junmyeon’s and Jongdae’s clothes are scattered along the ground on the way to the bed, and Junmyeon’s slacks hang halfway off the foot of the mattress, the other leg resting on the ground. Junmyeon is hovering over Jongdae, his socked toes pressing into the mattress on either side of Jongdae’s torso as he kisses him.
“Waiting for a formal invitation?” Jongdae teases, grabbing Junymeon’s ass and pulling him down. He grinds up, and Junmyeon groans into his cheek, breath palpable and voice strained in Jongdae’s ear.
Jongdae gets two handfuls of ass and squeezes, further molding Junmyeon to his body. Junmyeon struggles a little, cock jumping and hips stuttering over Jongdae’s waist, embarrassingly close for the short amount of time that's passed.
“Wait, wait, wait. Stop. Time,” slurs Junmyeon, and he tries to stop the rotation of his own hips, carefully shifting his crotch away from Jongdae’s. He’s one wrong move away from collapsing. “Don’t wanna come yet.”
Jongdae purrs, heavy with mirth. “Ooh, Prince Charming coming so soon? Don’t have enough stamina to go twice?” The corners of his mouth curl wickedly, and Junmyeon wheezes out a laugh, planting messy kisses on the edges of Jongdae’s lips until he relents.
Junmyeon makes quick work of his briefs, and rests his weight on his shins in anticipation. Jongdae raises his eyebrows and gestures at Junmyeon’s socks. Junmyeon quickly retorts in defense. Something about his feet not being prepared to be seen. They’re having an off day. Lucky for Junmyeon, Jongdae isn’t interested enough in his crew socks to argue, and he can dig for the lube and condoms without much jest. They’re in the place that they've always been, a shoebox under the bed, and he comes back up to envelope Jongdae’s smirk in kisses.
One of his slicked fingers goes in with only slight resistance, and he makes a noise of questioning. Jongdae grins into his mouth.
Junmyeon spends so much time with one finger that Jongdae asks him if he’s looking for something, pumping himself and pressing his hips down on Junmyeon’s knuckles, impatient. Junmyeon quells him with another, the digit thorough and inquisitive, scissoring his fingers with conscious precision.
He only adds a third after Jongdae starts complaining again, the pacifying effect of his hand leaving Junmyeon in awe every time. Jongdae sucks him in, all the way to the base of each finger, arching his back and keening like he's never felt anything better. He has--Junmyeons pants pack more than his punch--but the refreshing intimacy of Jongdae acting like each time is his first has Junmyeon smitten.
The fingers come out when the throbbing between Junmyeon’s legs is too much for him to ignore. Jongdae gasps at the lack of contact, canting into thin air, and his thighs clench in anticipation.
Junmyeon is clumsy finding the foil packets on the bed, wipes his slick hand on the sheets as discreetly as possible, wraps himself for entry. He's careful when he slides in, making sure to keep his hips still even after he bottoms out. Only until Jongdae says it's okay. The concentration he puts into staying still ends up dulling his other senses, and Junmyeon doesn’t hear Jongdae goading him, only moving after accidentally shifting his weight onto his knees to relieve his numbed legs. It sends him deeper and Jongdae shouts, ankles wrapping around Junmyeon’s hips.
“Sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, Jongdae--” Junmyeon chokes when Jongdae swipes the words from his mouth, moves Junmyeon’s hips for him. Junmyeon takes control after he gets over his shock, pistoning in with one hand laced with Jongdae’s and the other wrapped around Jongdae’s waist.
He’s nothing if not methodic, measured thrusts and measured strokes when his hand sneaks up to fist Jongdae’s cock. He gives it a mild squeeze and Jongdae tenses up, sounds exasperated when he has the breath to exhale.
Jongdae rumbles incoherently, every syllable punctuated with a sharp gasp, a shuddering exhale. “Fuck, fuck, Junmyeon--.” He uses his free hand to grapple at Junmyeon’s back, blunt nails scrabbling for purchase on his soft, soft skin. His fingertips leave reddening marks in their wake anyway. “So good.”
After a while, Junmyeon’s pace falters, thrusts shortening to a grind, and Jongdae whines at him, tells him to hang in there. He may be close, but Jongdae’s still warming up. This isn’t exactly true, but it works well enough, Junmyeon’s breath labored as he forces himself to keep his rhythm. It’s not that deep.
The door to the apartment swings open about as soon as Junmyeon gets his tempo back, bouncing back to hit the wall before it closes again. Baekhyun’s voice rolls in, jarring and annoyingly sing-song, and Junmyeon almost goes soft right then, balls-deep.
“I’m baaack~! Jongdae, where’s the food?”
Junmyeon grimaces and Jongdae slaps him in the shoulder blade, rolling his hips forward.
“Keep going,” is his harsh whisper. Junmyeon obliges, flushing down his neck when he untangles their hands in order to push Jongdae into another position. He pulls his thighs further apart, one leg flush against Junmyeon’s chest, and the new variety of groans it elicits would be more satisfying than mortifying if Baekhyun weren’t feet away at the moment.
The position is far more thorough than the previous, and Jongdae finds himself quickly approaching climax, pressing his shoulder into his face to try and muffle some of his noises with (what he thinks is) moderate success.
Junmyeon’s hardly holding on, mouth squashed in the crook of Jongdae’s neck, and the slightest pressure from his teeth has Jongdae coming with a shout. Junmyeon’s hand clasps over Jongdae’s mouth in panic as he groans his own orgasm into Jongdae’s shoulder.
The apartment falls silent.
Between breaths, Jongdae can hear Baekhyun’s shuffling footsteps, the click of the karaoke machine turning on.
Baekhyun coughs from living room. The shitty karaoke instrumental for Girls Generation’s ‘You Think’ starts up, Baekhyun reading the lyrics rather than singing properly.
Junmyeon rolls out of bed and onto the floor, crawling to the door. Depositing the used condom in the trash, he picks up his boxers and Jongdae’s shirt, a half-assed attempt at looking somewhat decent. He makes himself known in the kitchen after a few moments, soft feet padding over hardwood and tile, and Baekhyun gives him a pointed look. His gaze is critical; taking in the disheveled ruffle of his hair, the way his shirt is both inside-out and backwards, and huffs out a sigh.
The whispering accompaniment to the song’s chorus are drowned out by the volume of Baekhyun’s stare. If his glare didn’t have the intensity and effect of a disgruntled puppy, it would probably make Junmyeon too nervous to grab a cup out of the cupboard for some water. Jongdae’s roommate sighs once more, this time into the microphone, the static of his breath jostling Junmyeon’s hand as he’s getting ice. The cubes bump against the edges of the glass in protest.
“It’s okay. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Junmyeon-hyung. It’s not like I was hungry and Jongdae was supposed to make food or anything. Go ahead and enjoy your little,” he pauses, voice tight with over-exaggerated irritation, and turns his head towards Jongdae’s bedroom. “Lovey-dovey time. I hope you feel good about starving your beloved roomie...” He sniffles for additional effect, virtually useless on Jongdae, but Junmyeon looks troubled by his act, condensation fresh under his fingertips from where the ice is melting in his glass.
Junmyeon is wary by the time his glass is full of water, and he takes a large sip, saving the rest for Jongdae. He takes the path furthest away from Baekhyun on the way back to the bedroom, and almost bumps into Jongdae, who is just coming out. The water sloshes over, hitting Junmyeon’s toes, and he hardly hides his grimace. “Oh, uh, Jongdae. Thought you might be thirsty.” And hands him the glass, wiping his fingers on the bottom of his shirt when Jongdae takes it.
“He’s thirsty, alright.” Baekhyun pipes in, and Jongdae steps around Junmyeon to confront him.
“Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have a wallet?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, Jongdae? I loved you,” Baekhyun whines, putting a hand to his chest and feigning tears. “I thought what we had was real...”
Jongdae scoffs, whining back. “Who even told you to come back? I said I was gonna be busy tonight. But it’s fine. I’m not busy anymore. Thanks, beloved roomie.”
Baekhyun smiles, close-mouthed and petty, and Jongdae sneers in response, rolling his eyes.
Junmyeon looks between them, sheepish, and goes back into Jongdae’s bedroom to retrieve his clothes, not even bothering to shake out the wrinkles. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and his slacks are buttoned but not zipped by the time he’s put together enough to leave. Jongdae pets him, mouthing “xyz” when Junmyeon leans in to smooch his forehead.
The glance downward is nowhere near subtle, nor is the hurried spin-and-zip technique Junmyeon has mastered over the years, but he ignores the snickering from Baekhyun as he exits the apartment,
Jongdae and his warm body the only things present in his mind.
✮ ✮ ✮
Junmyeon takes Jongdae to cafes whenever he has time, and in turn Jongdae invites him over to play fighting games. He’s not good at them per say, but is better at button mashing than Jongdae himself and plays just as dirty. Jongdae wonders if it’s intuitive or a practice from his past, but whenever he asks, Junmyeon dodges the question.
One time, Jongdae catches Junmyeon swearing under his breath during a round (which turns into an actual swear by the time Jongdae KO’s his character). Jongdae found it amusing, but Junmyeon didn’t let himself live it down, locking himself in the bathroom for an hour and then leaving at dinner time. He texted a simple ‘sorry,’ and hasn’t made date plans since, leaving Jongdae to text first.
Can i come over? 4:14 PM
im busy sry 4:21 PM
😢 4:21 PM
Oh okay 4:22 PM
✮ ✮ ✮
Are you busy today? 2:00 PM
yea 😟😟😟 2:10 PM
💦 2:12 PM
:^/ 2:12 PM
😢 2:14 PM
✮ ✮ ✮
Have time to visit w/ your bf today? 7:45 PM
sorry jongdae not 2day i have a paper due l8r 7:50 PM
Three knocks on the door; two whimsical, one crisp--accenting the hardly there.
Jongdae shoves his phone back into his pocket, pulling his arms behind his back and wringing his hands. Take-out dangles from one of them, swinging in the bag and hitting the backs of his legs.
He’s been waiting to do this for a while, really. Visit unannounced. Junmyeon always plans all their dates and locations unless Jongdae has a specific request, and while it’s less stressful for Jongdae, it’s hard to surprise Junmyeon.
Junmyeon who’s been holing himself up again, the third time in the past two weeks. Which is fine, Jongdae supposes. Junmyeon’s got plenty on his plate, being “Perfect” and everything, stacking his club duties on top of his heavy workload and somehow coming out alive (?) every time.
But.
It doesn’t hurt to take a break at least a little. Definitely. Especially when you have a hot piece of ass boyfriend like Jongdae to relax with.
The door opens with a start, bottom clawing against the ground in protest as someone peers around the corner. Someone dressed humbly; dingy white t-shirt splattered in ramen broth among other stains, and sweats embroidered with Star Wars spacecrafts in different colors dropping over their slippers. Their hair is pushed back haphazardly, staying back through some miracle (or a little black hairband, but details), and they blink owlishly at Jongdae through their glasses.
And then promptly slam the door shut, flushing red to their chest and stammering out a “Sorry! Wrong person.”
Well, huh.
Jongdae was pretty sure that this is Junmyeon’s apartment. And that that was Junmyeon that opened the door.
He stands there for a little while longer, ears picking up on the frantic noises inside of the flat; shuffling, crashing, swearing? and rocks back and forth on his heels, humming a little tune to pass the time. Junmyeon bursts out of the apartment for the second time (or the first, if Jongdae isn’t the one counting), hair combed, face shaved, and dressed sharp-casual; a freshly pressed button-up and khaki shorts. Maybe a little overboard for staying inside.
“Come on in,” Junmyeon wheezes, leaning against the doorframe before he remembers his manners and moves out of the way. Jongdae ducks through the doorway, pecking Junmyeon’s nose as he passes, slips his shoes off and makes himself comfortable on the couch. The take-out finds a home on the coffee table and so do Jongdae’s feet, toes wiggling in their socks.
The door to Junmyeon’s room is firmly shut, like always--Chanyeol’s open just a crack on the other side, but Jongdae doesn’t pay either of them any mind, idly turning his attention to the television, commercials droning on about the newest beauty products and chewiest bubble gum.
Jongdae snuggles into Junmyeon when he takes a seat, and Junmyeon wraps an arm around him. “You know, a monster opened the door earlier. I was almost scared.”
“Really? Maybe my apartment’s haunted, then. Need a little comfort?” Junmyeon grins, leans in close enough to taste.
A pause. Jongdae’s mouth curls some more. “Just a bit.” a knee dips into the sofa on the other side of Junmyeon’s legs. Jongdae makes himself comfortable, purses his lips against Junmyeon’s chin, his cheeks. Grazes his mouth against Junmyeon’s until the elder surges forward, impatient.
Junmyeon’s pulling away as fast as he’s leaning in, though, catches his breath while Jongdae loses his in twinkling laughter. Junmyeon collects the sparks in his mouth, opens his lips to take in the shock, take in Jongdae’s tongue.
Jongdae hums his agreement, puts his arms over Junmyeon’s shoulders and laces his fingers together. Junmyeon’s hands find purchase under Jongdae’s shirt, tickling the sweet flesh of his sides, and Jongdae curls away from him in sensitivity.
“Seafood recently?” Jongdae smiles, and Junmyeon is quick to check his breath, lips quirking downward when he catches his whiff of crustacean. Damn, forgot to brush his teeth.
“Sorry. I can go brush them if y--”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s new.”
Junmyeon deflates in relief, sinks into the softness of Jongdae’s kisses, the light roll of his hips. Holds him down when he does it and delights in the squirms he receives in reply.
“Hey,” Jongdae breathes, syllables hot on Junmyeon’s lips. “I wanna stay over.”
Junmyeon tenses immediately, draws his lips into a tight line and toys at the hem of Jongdae’s tee. “You see… You can’t do that! Not today.”
“Chanyeol doesn’t have to know, if he’s the problem.” Jongdae drawls, sweet and persuasive, and Junmyeon nearly crumbles.
“Uh, I’m doing an experiment in my room for one of my classes, and it needs to incubate without human eyes on it. I want ideal results, you know? For science.”
Jongdae leans back from his perch on Junmyeon’s lap specifically to express all the question marks running across his mind as a facial expression. He knows Junmyeon is a shoddy liar, but this is just ridiculous. His expression levels after he sees Junmyeon getting increasingly more anxious, and he slides off the couch, stalking to the door.
His shoes are only half on by the time he’s outside.
✮ ✮ ✮
“Baekhyun, he lied to me. Right to my face!”
“Dump him, then.”
Jongdae groans, exceptionally agonized, and Baekhyun rolls onto his exposed stomach. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not? He’s totally hiding something. He can’t look that good and be completely innocent.”
“He’s not that kind of person… I’m gonna ask him.” Jongdae reaches for his phone on the edge of the bed, hardly acknowledging Baekhyun’s weight as he types up a message to Junmyeon.
“He’s saved under ‘Junmyeonie’ with sparkly heart emojis? Ew, gay.”
“Stop talking to me.”
What was today about? 9:21 PM
I thought you were busy 9:21 PM
Star Wars is not a class 9:21 PM
Even if you want it to be 9:22 PM
… 9:22 PM
im srry jongdae 9:24 PM
Sorry is not a solve-all lol 9:25 PM
ill b able 2 tell u all of it soon just gimme a little 9:25 PM
a week ok 9:26 PM
i promise 9:26 PM
“What’d he say?” Baekhyun tries craning his neck to be able to see the phone. Jongdae presses the glass of the screen to his face instead.
✮ ✮ ✮
Junmyeon calls Jongdae to his apartment exactly a week later, just as promised, and Jongdae nearly doesn’t show up, almost says he’s busy. He texts Junmyeon instead of knocking, and Junmyeon tells him that the door is already unlocked, that he can come in whenever.
He’s sitting on the couch when Jongdae makes it to the living room, hands clasped and looking too nervous.
“So,” Jongdae starts, standing in front of Junmyeon. “What’d you have to say that needed a week to formulate? Did you write a speech?” He knows he’s being a little too scathing, considering Junmyeon’s already on edge, but it isn’t like he’s not justifiably angry.
Junmyeon swallows audibly, looking up at Jongdae’s scowl, and asks him to sit down, patting the cushions right next to him. There’s only a slight quiver in his voice and he coughs it off.
Jongdae snuggles up against the arm of the sofa.
“As,” He clears his throat and tries again. “As you can see, I’m not dressed up.”
True to his word, he isn’t. His shirt is faded and stained with something very red and very hard to get out, and his grey sweats are heavily pilled. Nothing special. He’s wearing glasses again, the ones from last time, and they’re almost cute, if not outdated. Jongdae observes him blankly.
“This is what I usually look like. I dress up for you… and everyone else. Instead of being switched ‘on,’ I’m off.” Taking Jongdae’s silence as a sign to continue, Junmyeon clears his throat again. “I didn’t want to show you my room the other day, or for the past seven months, because it’s dirty. Bad dirty.”
Jongdae can hardly open his mouth before Junmyeon’s speaking again. “It’s hard being clean all the time! I just wanted to look good for you.” His voice trails off, and Jongdae takes this chance to edge his way into the conversation, beginning to look more concerned than unimpressed.
“Okay, so, what I got from this is that you don’t like cleaning up, so you lied to me about your room for seven entire months.” Junmyeon makes a noise of a disagreement, and Jongdae speaks louder. “And, you like relaxing in the privacy of your own home.”
Junmyeon makes the sound of a fan dying a sad, pathetic death.
“Let’s see it then.”
“See?”
“Your room. You didn’t call me out here for nothing, did you?”
Junmyeon blanches and leads the five steps to his bedroom, palm sweaty against handle of the door. He's holding this moment off for as long as possible, not quite ready to expose himself this much.
“C’mon,” Jongdae whines from a distance behind him. “So slow…” He darts his hand underneath Junmyeon’s arm to grab the knob and turn it downwards for him, the combined pressure swinging the door open without much hesitation.
The stench is truly something else; staleness with a lingering pungency that only comes from forgotten food. Jongdae nearly regrets opening the door so soon. He holds his nose as he pushes past a stricken Junmyeon, grimacing at the disaster before him.
“Do you even sleep in here? It’s so bad.”
The look on Junmyeon’s face is nothing less than guilty. “That’s why you didn’t have to-- I--”
“It’s whatever. Let’s just--do something with it.”
“Do something with it?”
“We’re cleaning this.”
“What? No, no, nonono. You don’t have to clean this. What if you find something gross? What if you break up with me?”
“It’s too late for that, Junmyeon,” Junmyeon looks stricken, and Jongdae is quick to correct himself. “I mean. The entire room is a wasteland. How do you even live in this? I’m not breaking up with you, but if we find a dead body I’ll have to reconsider.”
Jongdae ventures in, careful not to step on anything, and tenses at the big black spot on the ground, oddly textured and covered in what’s probably a fine layer of dust. “I don’t even want to know what kind of stain that is,” he says, scoping out months-old socks and other dirty clothes scattered across the floor. The bed is another monster.
“Jajangmyeon,” Junmyeon helpfully supplies, still standing in the doorway, and Jongdae squints.
“Go get garbage bags. Gloves too, if you have any. Do you have a hamper?”
Junmyeon grunts in response, going to look for bags. Jongdae figures clothes piles will suffice for now.
He comes back as Jongdae is trudging over to the window for fresh air, his boyfriend’s legs tangled in a mess of shirts and--is that his sweater he misplaced a month ago? He was convinced Chanyeol took it and was using it to cover over his ferrets at night, but it was in his own room all along… He supposes he owes Chanyeol an apology or two.
“What are you looking at? Get in here and help. It’s your mess.”
“Can I pick the music?” Junmyeon asks, already thumbing through his playlists for the one with not only the recorder cover of ‘My Heart Will Go On,’ but also a soulful rendition of the Star Wars theme done entirely in goat bleats.
Jongdae eyes him warily, already a past victim of his… questionable music choice, and finally shakes his head. “Absolutely not. It's my turn this time.” His phone connects to the bluetooth speaker, the instrumental to Ra.D’s ‘I Cry When You Cry’ blaring as soon as he presses play.
Junmyeon has never dived for an object this quickly since his limited edition, custom made lightsaber nearly fell off of his dresser.
They agree on a comfortable silence instead.
Jongdae hums a song, and Junmyeon fills in the blanks when he knows them, leading to a full-out duet, hushed by embarrassment and forgiven with a mutual fit of laughter.
Together, they find a multitude of things: half of Junmyeon’s misplaced wardrobe, three moldy mugs, a bowl of forgotten ramen (Junmyeon reassures him that it’s only a few days old), dubious looking tissues that missed the trash can, boxer briefs patterned with little corgis, and a suspicious box labeled “time capsule” in hasty handwriting and pink marker.
“Junymeon, you made a time capsule?”
Junmyeon doesn’t look over from where he’s rearranging his collection of Pokemon plushes on the shelf, making a half-hearted noise of confusion.
Rustling. “Is this--oh. Dildos for the future? Is that sanitary?” Jongdae looks amused. Junmyeon: not so much. He goes pale, and then red in rapid succession, taking the box out of Jongdae’s hands in a way that’s desperate but hopefully not aggressive, closing it and shoving into a corner.
“Those are a friend’s!”
“A friend?”
“He’s in…prison...”
Jongdae quirks an eyebrow and Junmyeon inhales through his nose.
“Anyway! Cleaning.”
Skillful evasion by Kim Junmyeon.
Jongdae lets it slide, for now at least, and continues sorting dirty laundry into three different piles, leaving Junmyeon to stress about the compositional repercussions of letting Pikachu sit next to Spinda.
It takes them a total of 5 hours, 27 minutes, and 34 seconds to get Junmyeon’s room somewhat presentable. The entire afternoon was eaten away, and they both mingle in the fading light of evening, observing their work. All that’s left is to take care of laundry and throw away the garbage, but that’s another day of work. Jongdae claims the shower first, leaving Junmyeon to order pizza and get cleaned up afterward.
Onc they’re both clean and fed, they curl up to Junmyeon’s 17th viewing of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Junmyeon narrating every little thing that happens, and shouting at every Poe/Finn interaction. It’s definitely canon. Jongdae watches on, more amused at the commentary than the actual movie, but is paying enough attention to slip a comment or two in edgewise whenever he comes up with something witty enough.
He still manages to doze off before the credits roll, and Junmyeon ushers him into his room, wrapping him up in blankets and crawling in beside him. The night is hitchless, Jongdae waking up with the sun and cozying up to Junmyeon’s chest.
“Hey.”
Junmyeon stirs after repeated prodding, blinded partly by the sun and partly by Jongdae's sleepy smile. It's too cheesy to voice so he keeps his mouth shut, eyes reluctant to fully open.
“This is the first night I've spent in your bed, isn't it?” His tone is hushed, intimate, tugs on the edges of a different connotation. Junmyeon starts to flush, mouth opening in protest.
“Ah, shh.” Jongdae chides, nuzzling Junmyeon’s jawbone, pecking the corner of his lips. “I have a class at 9, so wake me up again before that, ok?”
8:45 is technically before 9, but Jongdae’s rushing out of the door in a flurry of yesterday’s clothes and uncombed hair, hardly having time for a ‘see you later kiss’.
Junmyeon’s phone pings around 9:06.
Made it to class on time
Make sure you start washing your clothes, and I'll come over later to help finish
Love you have a nice day ❤️
He stares at the messages for a solid five minutes, taking a screenshot and filing it in his ‘Jongdae’ folder. The laundry doesn't get started until 11, Junmyeon merely tufts of hair sticking out from his comforter until 10:30, and Jongdae comes back a little bit before 2, Chanyeol trailing behind with a bag of ferret food clutched to his chest.
“Ah, hyung. Someone in the hallway...I told them that you make ferret food muffins.” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae’s exhale is shaky, close to a laugh.
Jongdae ends up taking a seat, repeatedly wheezing ‘muffins’ and curling up on himself in laughter. Junmyeon looks between them both with furrowed eyebrows, and tries his very best to look pouty and affronted. It comes off more like constipation, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Who makes ferret muffins? I am a pastry chef in my free time, but not that kind. Stop spreading lies about me.” Junmyeon gets close enough to poke the bag of food in lieu of his actual chest, looking up to meet Chanyeol’s eyes.
Chanyeol droops, but doesn’t take any of Junmyeon’s faux harshness to heart. Junmyeon is all bark and no bite, and hardly a barker in the first place, prone to fits of nervousness and poor coverups. Humor at the expense of his pride. He backs up and puts the food in his room, cooing at his ferrets on the way out. “I’m gonna go play with Baekhyun, so,” the rest is unvoiced, but the way Chanyeol leaves the apartment right after is indicative enough. The apartment is all yours.
Jongdae’s laughter settles into a content sigh after Chanyeol leaves, and he stretches out languidly on the couch, making a noise to beckon Junmyeon over.
Junmyeon sits next to the arm and Jongdae sits up to accommodate him and his legs, back cozy against his chest.
“Did you do laundry?”
Junmyeon grunts a yes, intertwining his and Jongdae’s legs and hands, and tucking his chin into the crook of Jongdae’s neck.
“Did you miss me?” Jongdae asks, voice quirking up mischievously, and squeezes Junmyeon’s hands when he hears the soft ‘yeah’ next to his ear. “Me too.”
They sit in relative silence, Jongdae pressing his head into Junmyeon’s shoulder and crooning a song that’s been stuck in his head lately. Junmyeon traces limited patterns on Jongdae’s stomach until it starts to tickle.
“So, are there any other secrets under your ‘off switch’?” His hands twitch under Junmyeon’s still attempting to do air quotes despite their captivity. “Chanyeol left us the apartment.”
Junmyeon squeezes Jongdae’s waist in an unexpected surge of confidence, fingers flexing against his stomach. “Want to find out?”
Title: What Turns You On?
Prompt Code: P035
Rating: NC-17
Length: 4745 words
Summary: External perfectionist has a hard time exposing his internal imperfections to someone he loves. Or something.
Notes: //screaming out of my ass
i actually started watching the switch girl drama to get into the heart and soul of the au
lol
thank u to my beta for kicking my ass into gear
please enjoy my shitty jokes….
Jongdae’s room is painted in creams and browns. The late afternoon sun casts a milky warmth from the walls to the sheets. It’s clean but not unlived in; both Junmyeon’s and Jongdae’s clothes are scattered along the ground on the way to the bed, and Junmyeon’s slacks hang halfway off the foot of the mattress, the other leg resting on the ground. Junmyeon is hovering over Jongdae, his socked toes pressing into the mattress on either side of Jongdae’s torso as he kisses him.
“Waiting for a formal invitation?” Jongdae teases, grabbing Junymeon’s ass and pulling him down. He grinds up, and Junmyeon groans into his cheek, breath palpable and voice strained in Jongdae’s ear.
Jongdae gets two handfuls of ass and squeezes, further molding Junmyeon to his body. Junmyeon struggles a little, cock jumping and hips stuttering over Jongdae’s waist, embarrassingly close for the short amount of time that's passed.
“Wait, wait, wait. Stop. Time,” slurs Junmyeon, and he tries to stop the rotation of his own hips, carefully shifting his crotch away from Jongdae’s. He’s one wrong move away from collapsing. “Don’t wanna come yet.”
Jongdae purrs, heavy with mirth. “Ooh, Prince Charming coming so soon? Don’t have enough stamina to go twice?” The corners of his mouth curl wickedly, and Junmyeon wheezes out a laugh, planting messy kisses on the edges of Jongdae’s lips until he relents.
Junmyeon makes quick work of his briefs, and rests his weight on his shins in anticipation. Jongdae raises his eyebrows and gestures at Junmyeon’s socks. Junmyeon quickly retorts in defense. Something about his feet not being prepared to be seen. They’re having an off day. Lucky for Junmyeon, Jongdae isn’t interested enough in his crew socks to argue, and he can dig for the lube and condoms without much jest. They’re in the place that they've always been, a shoebox under the bed, and he comes back up to envelope Jongdae’s smirk in kisses.
One of his slicked fingers goes in with only slight resistance, and he makes a noise of questioning. Jongdae grins into his mouth.
Junmyeon spends so much time with one finger that Jongdae asks him if he’s looking for something, pumping himself and pressing his hips down on Junmyeon’s knuckles, impatient. Junmyeon quells him with another, the digit thorough and inquisitive, scissoring his fingers with conscious precision.
He only adds a third after Jongdae starts complaining again, the pacifying effect of his hand leaving Junmyeon in awe every time. Jongdae sucks him in, all the way to the base of each finger, arching his back and keening like he's never felt anything better. He has--Junmyeons pants pack more than his punch--but the refreshing intimacy of Jongdae acting like each time is his first has Junmyeon smitten.
The fingers come out when the throbbing between Junmyeon’s legs is too much for him to ignore. Jongdae gasps at the lack of contact, canting into thin air, and his thighs clench in anticipation.
Junmyeon is clumsy finding the foil packets on the bed, wipes his slick hand on the sheets as discreetly as possible, wraps himself for entry. He's careful when he slides in, making sure to keep his hips still even after he bottoms out. Only until Jongdae says it's okay. The concentration he puts into staying still ends up dulling his other senses, and Junmyeon doesn’t hear Jongdae goading him, only moving after accidentally shifting his weight onto his knees to relieve his numbed legs. It sends him deeper and Jongdae shouts, ankles wrapping around Junmyeon’s hips.
“Sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, Jongdae--” Junmyeon chokes when Jongdae swipes the words from his mouth, moves Junmyeon’s hips for him. Junmyeon takes control after he gets over his shock, pistoning in with one hand laced with Jongdae’s and the other wrapped around Jongdae’s waist.
He’s nothing if not methodic, measured thrusts and measured strokes when his hand sneaks up to fist Jongdae’s cock. He gives it a mild squeeze and Jongdae tenses up, sounds exasperated when he has the breath to exhale.
Jongdae rumbles incoherently, every syllable punctuated with a sharp gasp, a shuddering exhale. “Fuck, fuck, Junmyeon--.” He uses his free hand to grapple at Junmyeon’s back, blunt nails scrabbling for purchase on his soft, soft skin. His fingertips leave reddening marks in their wake anyway. “So good.”
After a while, Junmyeon’s pace falters, thrusts shortening to a grind, and Jongdae whines at him, tells him to hang in there. He may be close, but Jongdae’s still warming up. This isn’t exactly true, but it works well enough, Junmyeon’s breath labored as he forces himself to keep his rhythm. It’s not that deep.
The door to the apartment swings open about as soon as Junmyeon gets his tempo back, bouncing back to hit the wall before it closes again. Baekhyun’s voice rolls in, jarring and annoyingly sing-song, and Junmyeon almost goes soft right then, balls-deep.
“I’m baaack~! Jongdae, where’s the food?”
Junmyeon grimaces and Jongdae slaps him in the shoulder blade, rolling his hips forward.
“Keep going,” is his harsh whisper. Junmyeon obliges, flushing down his neck when he untangles their hands in order to push Jongdae into another position. He pulls his thighs further apart, one leg flush against Junmyeon’s chest, and the new variety of groans it elicits would be more satisfying than mortifying if Baekhyun weren’t feet away at the moment.
The position is far more thorough than the previous, and Jongdae finds himself quickly approaching climax, pressing his shoulder into his face to try and muffle some of his noises with (what he thinks is) moderate success.
Junmyeon’s hardly holding on, mouth squashed in the crook of Jongdae’s neck, and the slightest pressure from his teeth has Jongdae coming with a shout. Junmyeon’s hand clasps over Jongdae’s mouth in panic as he groans his own orgasm into Jongdae’s shoulder.
The apartment falls silent.
Between breaths, Jongdae can hear Baekhyun’s shuffling footsteps, the click of the karaoke machine turning on.
Baekhyun coughs from living room. The shitty karaoke instrumental for Girls Generation’s ‘You Think’ starts up, Baekhyun reading the lyrics rather than singing properly.
Junmyeon rolls out of bed and onto the floor, crawling to the door. Depositing the used condom in the trash, he picks up his boxers and Jongdae’s shirt, a half-assed attempt at looking somewhat decent. He makes himself known in the kitchen after a few moments, soft feet padding over hardwood and tile, and Baekhyun gives him a pointed look. His gaze is critical; taking in the disheveled ruffle of his hair, the way his shirt is both inside-out and backwards, and huffs out a sigh.
The whispering accompaniment to the song’s chorus are drowned out by the volume of Baekhyun’s stare. If his glare didn’t have the intensity and effect of a disgruntled puppy, it would probably make Junmyeon too nervous to grab a cup out of the cupboard for some water. Jongdae’s roommate sighs once more, this time into the microphone, the static of his breath jostling Junmyeon’s hand as he’s getting ice. The cubes bump against the edges of the glass in protest.
“It’s okay. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Junmyeon-hyung. It’s not like I was hungry and Jongdae was supposed to make food or anything. Go ahead and enjoy your little,” he pauses, voice tight with over-exaggerated irritation, and turns his head towards Jongdae’s bedroom. “Lovey-dovey time. I hope you feel good about starving your beloved roomie...” He sniffles for additional effect, virtually useless on Jongdae, but Junmyeon looks troubled by his act, condensation fresh under his fingertips from where the ice is melting in his glass.
Junmyeon is wary by the time his glass is full of water, and he takes a large sip, saving the rest for Jongdae. He takes the path furthest away from Baekhyun on the way back to the bedroom, and almost bumps into Jongdae, who is just coming out. The water sloshes over, hitting Junmyeon’s toes, and he hardly hides his grimace. “Oh, uh, Jongdae. Thought you might be thirsty.” And hands him the glass, wiping his fingers on the bottom of his shirt when Jongdae takes it.
“He’s thirsty, alright.” Baekhyun pipes in, and Jongdae steps around Junmyeon to confront him.
“Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have a wallet?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, Jongdae? I loved you,” Baekhyun whines, putting a hand to his chest and feigning tears. “I thought what we had was real...”
Jongdae scoffs, whining back. “Who even told you to come back? I said I was gonna be busy tonight. But it’s fine. I’m not busy anymore. Thanks, beloved roomie.”
Baekhyun smiles, close-mouthed and petty, and Jongdae sneers in response, rolling his eyes.
Junmyeon looks between them, sheepish, and goes back into Jongdae’s bedroom to retrieve his clothes, not even bothering to shake out the wrinkles. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and his slacks are buttoned but not zipped by the time he’s put together enough to leave. Jongdae pets him, mouthing “xyz” when Junmyeon leans in to smooch his forehead.
The glance downward is nowhere near subtle, nor is the hurried spin-and-zip technique Junmyeon has mastered over the years, but he ignores the snickering from Baekhyun as he exits the apartment,
Jongdae and his warm body the only things present in his mind.
✮ ✮ ✮
Junmyeon takes Jongdae to cafes whenever he has time, and in turn Jongdae invites him over to play fighting games. He’s not good at them per say, but is better at button mashing than Jongdae himself and plays just as dirty. Jongdae wonders if it’s intuitive or a practice from his past, but whenever he asks, Junmyeon dodges the question.
One time, Jongdae catches Junmyeon swearing under his breath during a round (which turns into an actual swear by the time Jongdae KO’s his character). Jongdae found it amusing, but Junmyeon didn’t let himself live it down, locking himself in the bathroom for an hour and then leaving at dinner time. He texted a simple ‘sorry,’ and hasn’t made date plans since, leaving Jongdae to text first.
Can i come over? 4:14 PM
im busy sry 4:21 PM
😢 4:21 PM
Oh okay 4:22 PM
✮ ✮ ✮
Are you busy today? 2:00 PM
yea 😟😟😟 2:10 PM
💦 2:12 PM
:^/ 2:12 PM
😢 2:14 PM
✮ ✮ ✮
Have time to visit w/ your bf today? 7:45 PM
sorry jongdae not 2day i have a paper due l8r 7:50 PM
Three knocks on the door; two whimsical, one crisp--accenting the hardly there.
Jongdae shoves his phone back into his pocket, pulling his arms behind his back and wringing his hands. Take-out dangles from one of them, swinging in the bag and hitting the backs of his legs.
He’s been waiting to do this for a while, really. Visit unannounced. Junmyeon always plans all their dates and locations unless Jongdae has a specific request, and while it’s less stressful for Jongdae, it’s hard to surprise Junmyeon.
Junmyeon who’s been holing himself up again, the third time in the past two weeks. Which is fine, Jongdae supposes. Junmyeon’s got plenty on his plate, being “Perfect” and everything, stacking his club duties on top of his heavy workload and somehow coming out alive (?) every time.
But.
It doesn’t hurt to take a break at least a little. Definitely. Especially when you have a hot piece of ass boyfriend like Jongdae to relax with.
The door opens with a start, bottom clawing against the ground in protest as someone peers around the corner. Someone dressed humbly; dingy white t-shirt splattered in ramen broth among other stains, and sweats embroidered with Star Wars spacecrafts in different colors dropping over their slippers. Their hair is pushed back haphazardly, staying back through some miracle (or a little black hairband, but details), and they blink owlishly at Jongdae through their glasses.
And then promptly slam the door shut, flushing red to their chest and stammering out a “Sorry! Wrong person.”
Well, huh.
Jongdae was pretty sure that this is Junmyeon’s apartment. And that that was Junmyeon that opened the door.
He stands there for a little while longer, ears picking up on the frantic noises inside of the flat; shuffling, crashing, swearing? and rocks back and forth on his heels, humming a little tune to pass the time. Junmyeon bursts out of the apartment for the second time (or the first, if Jongdae isn’t the one counting), hair combed, face shaved, and dressed sharp-casual; a freshly pressed button-up and khaki shorts. Maybe a little overboard for staying inside.
“Come on in,” Junmyeon wheezes, leaning against the doorframe before he remembers his manners and moves out of the way. Jongdae ducks through the doorway, pecking Junmyeon’s nose as he passes, slips his shoes off and makes himself comfortable on the couch. The take-out finds a home on the coffee table and so do Jongdae’s feet, toes wiggling in their socks.
The door to Junmyeon’s room is firmly shut, like always--Chanyeol’s open just a crack on the other side, but Jongdae doesn’t pay either of them any mind, idly turning his attention to the television, commercials droning on about the newest beauty products and chewiest bubble gum.
Jongdae snuggles into Junmyeon when he takes a seat, and Junmyeon wraps an arm around him. “You know, a monster opened the door earlier. I was almost scared.”
“Really? Maybe my apartment’s haunted, then. Need a little comfort?” Junmyeon grins, leans in close enough to taste.
A pause. Jongdae’s mouth curls some more. “Just a bit.” a knee dips into the sofa on the other side of Junmyeon’s legs. Jongdae makes himself comfortable, purses his lips against Junmyeon’s chin, his cheeks. Grazes his mouth against Junmyeon’s until the elder surges forward, impatient.
Junmyeon’s pulling away as fast as he’s leaning in, though, catches his breath while Jongdae loses his in twinkling laughter. Junmyeon collects the sparks in his mouth, opens his lips to take in the shock, take in Jongdae’s tongue.
Jongdae hums his agreement, puts his arms over Junmyeon’s shoulders and laces his fingers together. Junmyeon’s hands find purchase under Jongdae’s shirt, tickling the sweet flesh of his sides, and Jongdae curls away from him in sensitivity.
“Seafood recently?” Jongdae smiles, and Junmyeon is quick to check his breath, lips quirking downward when he catches his whiff of crustacean. Damn, forgot to brush his teeth.
“Sorry. I can go brush them if y--”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s new.”
Junmyeon deflates in relief, sinks into the softness of Jongdae’s kisses, the light roll of his hips. Holds him down when he does it and delights in the squirms he receives in reply.
“Hey,” Jongdae breathes, syllables hot on Junmyeon’s lips. “I wanna stay over.”
Junmyeon tenses immediately, draws his lips into a tight line and toys at the hem of Jongdae’s tee. “You see… You can’t do that! Not today.”
“Chanyeol doesn’t have to know, if he’s the problem.” Jongdae drawls, sweet and persuasive, and Junmyeon nearly crumbles.
“Uh, I’m doing an experiment in my room for one of my classes, and it needs to incubate without human eyes on it. I want ideal results, you know? For science.”
Jongdae leans back from his perch on Junmyeon’s lap specifically to express all the question marks running across his mind as a facial expression. He knows Junmyeon is a shoddy liar, but this is just ridiculous. His expression levels after he sees Junmyeon getting increasingly more anxious, and he slides off the couch, stalking to the door.
His shoes are only half on by the time he’s outside.
✮ ✮ ✮
“Baekhyun, he lied to me. Right to my face!”
“Dump him, then.”
Jongdae groans, exceptionally agonized, and Baekhyun rolls onto his exposed stomach. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not? He’s totally hiding something. He can’t look that good and be completely innocent.”
“He’s not that kind of person… I’m gonna ask him.” Jongdae reaches for his phone on the edge of the bed, hardly acknowledging Baekhyun’s weight as he types up a message to Junmyeon.
“He’s saved under ‘Junmyeonie’ with sparkly heart emojis? Ew, gay.”
“Stop talking to me.”
What was today about? 9:21 PM
I thought you were busy 9:21 PM
Star Wars is not a class 9:21 PM
Even if you want it to be 9:22 PM
… 9:22 PM
im srry jongdae 9:24 PM
Sorry is not a solve-all lol 9:25 PM
ill b able 2 tell u all of it soon just gimme a little 9:25 PM
a week ok 9:26 PM
i promise 9:26 PM
“What’d he say?” Baekhyun tries craning his neck to be able to see the phone. Jongdae presses the glass of the screen to his face instead.
✮ ✮ ✮
Junmyeon calls Jongdae to his apartment exactly a week later, just as promised, and Jongdae nearly doesn’t show up, almost says he’s busy. He texts Junmyeon instead of knocking, and Junmyeon tells him that the door is already unlocked, that he can come in whenever.
He’s sitting on the couch when Jongdae makes it to the living room, hands clasped and looking too nervous.
“So,” Jongdae starts, standing in front of Junmyeon. “What’d you have to say that needed a week to formulate? Did you write a speech?” He knows he’s being a little too scathing, considering Junmyeon’s already on edge, but it isn’t like he’s not justifiably angry.
Junmyeon swallows audibly, looking up at Jongdae’s scowl, and asks him to sit down, patting the cushions right next to him. There’s only a slight quiver in his voice and he coughs it off.
Jongdae snuggles up against the arm of the sofa.
“As,” He clears his throat and tries again. “As you can see, I’m not dressed up.”
True to his word, he isn’t. His shirt is faded and stained with something very red and very hard to get out, and his grey sweats are heavily pilled. Nothing special. He’s wearing glasses again, the ones from last time, and they’re almost cute, if not outdated. Jongdae observes him blankly.
“This is what I usually look like. I dress up for you… and everyone else. Instead of being switched ‘on,’ I’m off.” Taking Jongdae’s silence as a sign to continue, Junmyeon clears his throat again. “I didn’t want to show you my room the other day, or for the past seven months, because it’s dirty. Bad dirty.”
Jongdae can hardly open his mouth before Junmyeon’s speaking again. “It’s hard being clean all the time! I just wanted to look good for you.” His voice trails off, and Jongdae takes this chance to edge his way into the conversation, beginning to look more concerned than unimpressed.
“Okay, so, what I got from this is that you don’t like cleaning up, so you lied to me about your room for seven entire months.” Junmyeon makes a noise of a disagreement, and Jongdae speaks louder. “And, you like relaxing in the privacy of your own home.”
Junmyeon makes the sound of a fan dying a sad, pathetic death.
“Let’s see it then.”
“See?”
“Your room. You didn’t call me out here for nothing, did you?”
Junmyeon blanches and leads the five steps to his bedroom, palm sweaty against handle of the door. He's holding this moment off for as long as possible, not quite ready to expose himself this much.
“C’mon,” Jongdae whines from a distance behind him. “So slow…” He darts his hand underneath Junmyeon’s arm to grab the knob and turn it downwards for him, the combined pressure swinging the door open without much hesitation.
The stench is truly something else; staleness with a lingering pungency that only comes from forgotten food. Jongdae nearly regrets opening the door so soon. He holds his nose as he pushes past a stricken Junmyeon, grimacing at the disaster before him.
“Do you even sleep in here? It’s so bad.”
The look on Junmyeon’s face is nothing less than guilty. “That’s why you didn’t have to-- I--”
“It’s whatever. Let’s just--do something with it.”
“Do something with it?”
“We’re cleaning this.”
“What? No, no, nonono. You don’t have to clean this. What if you find something gross? What if you break up with me?”
“It’s too late for that, Junmyeon,” Junmyeon looks stricken, and Jongdae is quick to correct himself. “I mean. The entire room is a wasteland. How do you even live in this? I’m not breaking up with you, but if we find a dead body I’ll have to reconsider.”
Jongdae ventures in, careful not to step on anything, and tenses at the big black spot on the ground, oddly textured and covered in what’s probably a fine layer of dust. “I don’t even want to know what kind of stain that is,” he says, scoping out months-old socks and other dirty clothes scattered across the floor. The bed is another monster.
“Jajangmyeon,” Junmyeon helpfully supplies, still standing in the doorway, and Jongdae squints.
“Go get garbage bags. Gloves too, if you have any. Do you have a hamper?”
Junmyeon grunts in response, going to look for bags. Jongdae figures clothes piles will suffice for now.
He comes back as Jongdae is trudging over to the window for fresh air, his boyfriend’s legs tangled in a mess of shirts and--is that his sweater he misplaced a month ago? He was convinced Chanyeol took it and was using it to cover over his ferrets at night, but it was in his own room all along… He supposes he owes Chanyeol an apology or two.
“What are you looking at? Get in here and help. It’s your mess.”
“Can I pick the music?” Junmyeon asks, already thumbing through his playlists for the one with not only the recorder cover of ‘My Heart Will Go On,’ but also a soulful rendition of the Star Wars theme done entirely in goat bleats.
Jongdae eyes him warily, already a past victim of his… questionable music choice, and finally shakes his head. “Absolutely not. It's my turn this time.” His phone connects to the bluetooth speaker, the instrumental to Ra.D’s ‘I Cry When You Cry’ blaring as soon as he presses play.
Junmyeon has never dived for an object this quickly since his limited edition, custom made lightsaber nearly fell off of his dresser.
They agree on a comfortable silence instead.
Jongdae hums a song, and Junmyeon fills in the blanks when he knows them, leading to a full-out duet, hushed by embarrassment and forgiven with a mutual fit of laughter.
Together, they find a multitude of things: half of Junmyeon’s misplaced wardrobe, three moldy mugs, a bowl of forgotten ramen (Junmyeon reassures him that it’s only a few days old), dubious looking tissues that missed the trash can, boxer briefs patterned with little corgis, and a suspicious box labeled “time capsule” in hasty handwriting and pink marker.
“Junymeon, you made a time capsule?”
Junmyeon doesn’t look over from where he’s rearranging his collection of Pokemon plushes on the shelf, making a half-hearted noise of confusion.
Rustling. “Is this--oh. Dildos for the future? Is that sanitary?” Jongdae looks amused. Junmyeon: not so much. He goes pale, and then red in rapid succession, taking the box out of Jongdae’s hands in a way that’s desperate but hopefully not aggressive, closing it and shoving into a corner.
“Those are a friend’s!”
“A friend?”
“He’s in…prison...”
Jongdae quirks an eyebrow and Junmyeon inhales through his nose.
“Anyway! Cleaning.”
Skillful evasion by Kim Junmyeon.
Jongdae lets it slide, for now at least, and continues sorting dirty laundry into three different piles, leaving Junmyeon to stress about the compositional repercussions of letting Pikachu sit next to Spinda.
It takes them a total of 5 hours, 27 minutes, and 34 seconds to get Junmyeon’s room somewhat presentable. The entire afternoon was eaten away, and they both mingle in the fading light of evening, observing their work. All that’s left is to take care of laundry and throw away the garbage, but that’s another day of work. Jongdae claims the shower first, leaving Junmyeon to order pizza and get cleaned up afterward.
Onc they’re both clean and fed, they curl up to Junmyeon’s 17th viewing of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Junmyeon narrating every little thing that happens, and shouting at every Poe/Finn interaction. It’s definitely canon. Jongdae watches on, more amused at the commentary than the actual movie, but is paying enough attention to slip a comment or two in edgewise whenever he comes up with something witty enough.
He still manages to doze off before the credits roll, and Junmyeon ushers him into his room, wrapping him up in blankets and crawling in beside him. The night is hitchless, Jongdae waking up with the sun and cozying up to Junmyeon’s chest.
“Hey.”
Junmyeon stirs after repeated prodding, blinded partly by the sun and partly by Jongdae's sleepy smile. It's too cheesy to voice so he keeps his mouth shut, eyes reluctant to fully open.
“This is the first night I've spent in your bed, isn't it?” His tone is hushed, intimate, tugs on the edges of a different connotation. Junmyeon starts to flush, mouth opening in protest.
“Ah, shh.” Jongdae chides, nuzzling Junmyeon’s jawbone, pecking the corner of his lips. “I have a class at 9, so wake me up again before that, ok?”
8:45 is technically before 9, but Jongdae’s rushing out of the door in a flurry of yesterday’s clothes and uncombed hair, hardly having time for a ‘see you later kiss’.
Junmyeon’s phone pings around 9:06.
Made it to class on time
Make sure you start washing your clothes, and I'll come over later to help finish
Love you have a nice day ❤️
He stares at the messages for a solid five minutes, taking a screenshot and filing it in his ‘Jongdae’ folder. The laundry doesn't get started until 11, Junmyeon merely tufts of hair sticking out from his comforter until 10:30, and Jongdae comes back a little bit before 2, Chanyeol trailing behind with a bag of ferret food clutched to his chest.
“Ah, hyung. Someone in the hallway...I told them that you make ferret food muffins.” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae’s exhale is shaky, close to a laugh.
Jongdae ends up taking a seat, repeatedly wheezing ‘muffins’ and curling up on himself in laughter. Junmyeon looks between them both with furrowed eyebrows, and tries his very best to look pouty and affronted. It comes off more like constipation, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Who makes ferret muffins? I am a pastry chef in my free time, but not that kind. Stop spreading lies about me.” Junmyeon gets close enough to poke the bag of food in lieu of his actual chest, looking up to meet Chanyeol’s eyes.
Chanyeol droops, but doesn’t take any of Junmyeon’s faux harshness to heart. Junmyeon is all bark and no bite, and hardly a barker in the first place, prone to fits of nervousness and poor coverups. Humor at the expense of his pride. He backs up and puts the food in his room, cooing at his ferrets on the way out. “I’m gonna go play with Baekhyun, so,” the rest is unvoiced, but the way Chanyeol leaves the apartment right after is indicative enough. The apartment is all yours.
Jongdae’s laughter settles into a content sigh after Chanyeol leaves, and he stretches out languidly on the couch, making a noise to beckon Junmyeon over.
Junmyeon sits next to the arm and Jongdae sits up to accommodate him and his legs, back cozy against his chest.
“Did you do laundry?”
Junmyeon grunts a yes, intertwining his and Jongdae’s legs and hands, and tucking his chin into the crook of Jongdae’s neck.
“Did you miss me?” Jongdae asks, voice quirking up mischievously, and squeezes Junmyeon’s hands when he hears the soft ‘yeah’ next to his ear. “Me too.”
They sit in relative silence, Jongdae pressing his head into Junmyeon’s shoulder and crooning a song that’s been stuck in his head lately. Junmyeon traces limited patterns on Jongdae’s stomach until it starts to tickle.
“So, are there any other secrets under your ‘off switch’?” His hands twitch under Junmyeon’s still attempting to do air quotes despite their captivity. “Chanyeol left us the apartment.”
Junmyeon squeezes Jongdae’s waist in an unexpected surge of confidence, fingers flexing against his stomach. “Want to find out?”