constant claims and drinking games (5/6) ; jongtae
title: constant claims and drinking games (5/6)
pairing: jongtae
rating: R (overall)
summary: the general consensus goes a little something like this: taemin needs a job. really quickly.
It takes Taemin a couple days to summon the strength to come clean. It’s just after they’ve…Well, it’s just after Taemin bent Jonghyun over the bed and fucked him raw. Taemin pants as he crawls onto the bed and lays spread eagle, leaving little space for Jonghyun to squeeze in, but he manages to find away and fastens their bodies together, curling around Taemin’s thin frame.
The apology stage was something Taemin’s not really accustomed to, considering he’s never been that close to someone to need to apologize, in the wrong or not. And yes, Taemin knows he’s in the wrong, he knew it the second Gwiboon pulled him into the bathroom, he knew it the second the thought flew into his head, hell, he knew it before the night even began; which does, admittedly, make it a lot easier for him to whisper ‘I’m sorry’ against Jonghyun’s lips.
“You probably won’t believe me, but I really wasn’t going to fuck Gwiboon.” Taemin stares up at the ceiling, revelling in the aftermath of past orgasm.
“Just a sly blowjob in the men’s toilet then?” Jonghyun doesn’t sound angry, not anymore, and Taemin continues.
“No, we weren’t going to do anything.”
“It looked like it.”
“You make a fair argument, but it’s just not going to happen, Jonghyun.”
Jonghyun lifts his head from Taemin’s bony chest; his hair slicked the side of his face with the adhesive of their sweat. “Fine. Humour me. Why not then?”
“Um.”
“Too slutty for your taste?”
Taemin inhales deeply. “I couldn’t get hard,” he whispers on the exhale.
“You couldn’t get hard?”
“I couldn’t get hard.”
Silence.
And then, Jonghyun’s guffawing so loud it resonates off the walls and chokes Taemin into a seething silence, a violent brush staining his cheeks. Jonghyun’s body sways with his laughter, his face scrunching up and teeth exposed, gleaming at him.
Taemin sighs.
“I’m sorry,” Jonghyun laughs, taking in a large gulp of air, “I’m sorry, it’s just…That’s really funny.”
“I’m failing to see the humour,” Taemin says dryly and shoves Jonghyun off him to sit up. Jonghyun swings one arm over his chest and hauls him back down, instantly snugging into his body. He’s body trembles with silent laughter and Taemin rolls his eyes for good measure, huffing as Jonghyun hooks his leg over Taemin’s.
“I guess you can only get hard for me then.”
Taemin grumbles something incoherent.
“I was wrong the entire time.” Taemin sits on Jonghyun’s desk a few days later, one leg dangling off the edge. “I can’t believe I was wrong. I’m never wrong! My life is a mess.”
Jonghyun looks up at him through the lenses of his glasses and cocks a brow. “You were…wrong?”
“You didn’t want to fuck me,” Taemin contemplates. “You wanted me to fuck you!”
Jonghyun rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and returns his attention to the papers scattered on his desk, jotting down numbers in respective places. Taemin swings his leg, tilting his head as he thinks, his eyes squinting, and lips pursed.
“Oh, but wait,” he finally says.
“Taemin, I really have to work right now.” Jonghyun pleads, “Go make me a coffee or something.”
“I’m not your slave,” Taemin hisses. “As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” Taemin fires a glance over, “considering your lack in reply to my observation, does that mean that you still do, in fact, want to fuck me? Because I feel like it’s my sole purpose in this world to let you know that it’s never going to happen.”
Over the course of the few days following, Jonghyun and Taemin had fucked practically everywhere. All of which Taemin had taken the initiative and plunged inside of Jonghyun underneath him, on top of him, next to him. Jonghyun hadn’t complained once, he was more than willing, and Taemin can’t help but wonder, because it doesn’t really seem like him, the kind who would be so submissive underneath him.
Then again, Taemin’s not exactly going to protest either.
“Taemin.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
Taemin’s jaw drops.
And then he smiles.
“Are you asking me to shut up because it’s true?”
“Taemin, seriously.”
“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Taemin surrenders and hops down from the desk.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t try and be nice. You’re not fucking me.”
“I was being polite?”
Taemin clucks his tongue and turns on his heel, holding his head high as he disregards Jonghyun’s words and embarks on a mission to the kitchen. With a scowl, Taemin fills up the kettle and clicks it on, still pouting when he pours in a packet of some fancy coffee that he can’t read the label of (which dampens his mood significantly considering his major was literature).
He brings the coffee to Jonghyun with the same scowl and slams it on the desk, some on the froth gliding down the white ceramic.
“Oh. You made me coffee,” Jonghyun hums as he takes a sip. “I thought you weren’t my slave.”
“I’m not,” Taemin clarifies.
“But you said that if you made me coffee that would make you my slave,” Jonghyun notes, pointing his pen in Taemin’s direction.
Taemin shrugs. “It doesn’t.”
“…Okay.” Jonghyun goes back to his work, glancing one more at Taemin when he still lurks around.
“Besides,” Taemin resumes his seat on the desk and picks up a piece of paper. He eyes it with superficial suspicion. “I’d much rather be your boyfriend.”
Then pen slips from Jonghyun’s grip. He clears his throat. “Oh? Like, dates and stuff?”
“Considering that’s what couples do, yes.”
“You want to?”
“Is asking you out always this awkward? Or is this just another one of your pursuits to make my life hell? Because if I had known I never would have - ”
“I thought you weren’t gay.”
“I’m not.”
“Dating me kind of makes you gay. Well, no, not kind of. It makes you gay.”
Taemin slides to his feet from the desk and manoeuvres around it. He leans over Jonghyun, elbows locked on the arms of his chair. “Maybe I’m just a little gay for you,” he whispers against Jonghyun’s lips and presses in. Jonghyun sighs into the kiss, angles his head to deepen it and Taemin obliges, sliding a little bit of tongue.
“…You know you can’t see Minho anymore, right?”
“Same goes for you.”
“Please, I was never seeing Minho. He’s an asshole.”
Jonghyun shakes his head and flicks his forehead. “You idiot, I meant Gwiboon. And Jinki, on second thought.” Jonghyun looks hilariously unhappy about something. “God damn, I need to tie you up or something.”
Taemin cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling.
Things are significantly awkward with Gwiboon.
Which is a complete and utter lie.
They would be significantly awkward if she wasn’t avoiding him.
Taemin’s a little sceptical about it all, the memory a little ambiguous in his head, but he’s very convinced that it’s completely uncalled for and that she’s acting like a downright bitch, never around when he wants to talk, and frankly, Taemin is insulted - she’s basically the only thing he has that’s close to a best friend (other than Jonghyun), and he may or may not miss her snide remarks.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin says one shift as he’s mopping the bar floor, her begrudgingly wiping down glasses and placing them back on the rack with a slam. He doesn’t exactly hold the dignity to hold his head up and look at her just yet.
“So you should be.”
There’s a squeak every time she shines a particular part of the glass. It’s really, really annoying.
“Then it’s a good thing I am.”
“You ruined my birthday.” Gwiboon is in a strop. Which makes this a lot more difficult than it has to be. Taemin shrugs it off, taking on the challenge - he values their friendship a lot more than to simply walk away.
Taemin finally summons up the courage and looks up. “I apologize for ruining your birthday, noona.”
Gwiboon lets out a huff of air, gently placing the glass on the counter and she twists to face him. “I like it when you call me noona,” she says and she’s finally smiling, albeit it’s a small one.
“I like calling you noona.”
Gwiboon stares at him and Taemin shrinks under her gaze, recoiling back a little. And then she bursts.
“Thank god we’re friends again because you will never guess what happened last weekend.” Taemin grins. “So I was out with Jinki and we had a couple drinks, whatever, and he was kinda hitting on me? And I was like okay, cool, I can handle this, he’s kinda cute I guess.”
Taemin gives a hum to let her know he’s still listening and continues his prestigious mopping career.
“We actually came here for a little while, not too sure where you were, and we were dancing and stuff, you know, whatever. And then he kissed me!”
Taemin’s brows rise, smiling. “He kissed you? Do you like him?”
“Maybe? I don’t know!” Gwiboon presses her palms to her rosy cheeks and tries to calm her grin, but it’s just not happening for her. “He’s cute. Have you seen his bulge though? That thing would tear me apart!”
“Your lack of morals never ceases to amaze me.”
“Well, you’re gay aren’t you? Jesus, it’s getting hot in here just thinking about it.”
“What? I’m not gay,” Taemin denies instantly, defensive. He has no qualms telling Gwiboon, he just worries about her blabbermouth.
“Then why are you dating Jonghyun?”
“We’re not dating.”
Gwiboon cocks a brow and stares at him.
Taemin sighs. “Fine, we’re dating, but I will severely compromise your possible relationship with Jinki if you tell anybody.”
Gwiboon smiles. “Of course.”
It’s a week later. Everybody knows he’s gay. Taemin isn’t even surprised. Neither is anybody else, actually, just a little confused. Taemin concludes that it’s because he’s so skinny. He figures that reconstructive surgery will be needed to console his humiliation.
He glares at everybody who even looks like they’re about to bring it up, especially Jinki, and Taemin just knows it’s driving him to the brink of insanity. He disregards it with a grin for that very reason and passes on by him to Jonghyun’s office door and barges in without knocking.
Jonghyun glances up. “I’m like 99.8% sure I’ve told you to knock before.”
“I recall no such thing.” Taemin closes the door behind him and slinks into the room and lifts a leg over Jonghyun’s body to pitch himself on the desk, effectively ceasing him from working.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“I bribed Gwiboon into mopping the floor,” Taemin says.
Jonghyun hums as his hands trail up Taemin’s thighs. “How’d you manage to do that?”
“I told her I wouldn’t seize her relationship with Jinki by cutting off his dick if she did what I asked.”
Jonghyun chuckles and grips Taemin’s hips. He manhandles Taemin down into his lap. “How sadistic of you,” Jonghyun purrs as he leans forward and kisses Taemin’s neck.
“I like them dating. It gives me a lot of pleasure knowing she’s happy.” Taemin clenches Jonghyun’s shoulders.
“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun rumbles against his neck between lucid kisses, “It sure sounds like it.”
“Have you booked the table for tomorrow?” Taemin tries to distract Jonghyun, mostly for himself because he can practically feel all blood and rationality in his head sink right down to his cock.
“For nine.” Taemin’s distraction doesn’t work as well as he anticipated, because Jonghyun’s nibbling down to his collarbones, pulling his shirt back like it’s a curtain to mouth at more of Taemin’s chest.
“I can’t believe we’re going on a date,” Taemin squeezes out as Jonghyun unbuttons his shirt, kissing the skin that shows bit by bit. Jonghyun nuzzles at his chest, urging him to lean back a bit. “How painfully domestic of us,” Taemin says as he obliges.
“You’re the one who suggested we go out to dinner.”
“I know,” Taemin moans as Jonghyun laps at his nipple, eliciting it to hardness. “And I- ah, I regret that decision.”
“You don’t want to have dinner with me?” Jonghyun cups Taemin’s bulge in his palm and rubs.
“Of course I do… Jonghyun,” Taemin whimpers, jerking his hips forward to capture the friction. Jonghyun chuckles against Taemin’s skin, squeezing the head of Taemin’s cock through the fabric and humming in approval when Taemin mewls.
“Do you want me to suck you?”
Taemin whines.
“Get on the desk,” Jonghyun commands. Once Taemin is fully situated, Jonghyun gazes up at him, his lips pouted and eyes hazy as his fingers fumble with the button and zipper of Taemin’s black jeans. He doesn’t bother any further, goes straight in for the kill and drags his tongue over Taemin’s erection through the cotton of his tight boxers, purring in his throat.
Taemin’s never met anybody who sucks cock with so much vehemence. Jonghyun’s lips look perfect stretched around his cock, and his tongue always does just the right thing to shove Taemin over the edge. Jonghyun guides Taemin’s cock out of his boxers, sitting the elastic under his balls, and licks up the underside. He swirls his tongue over the ridge, lapping at the slit and then he takes Taemin into his mouth, moaning around the girth instantly as his he slides it deeper.
Taemin slings his head back, clutching the edge of the desk. Air whispers through his clenched teeth on the inhale as Jonghyun’s cheeks hallow, explicit noises so loud in the silence, and Taemin grasps the back of Jonghyun’s head, digging his fingernails into the scalp when Jonghyun slides him down his throat.
“Does it feel good?” Jonghyun tosses his hair to the side and smirks up at Taemin as he jerks his cock in a tight circle.
“God yes,” Taemin moans and Jonghyun smiles triumphantly, leaning forward again to direct Taemin back into his mouth. A loud groan resonates from his throat when Jonghyun flicks his tongue against the head and then he slides his mouth back down, so hot and wet that Taemin almost chokes on his breath.
His orgasm tugs in his stomach as Jonghyun bobs his head, slurping obscenely around Taemin’s cock, his moans vibrating and casting Taemin closer to the finish line. And then he does that thing with his tongue and Taemin loses all control, gripping Jonghyun’s hair in a fist to pull him back off his cock. Jonghyun moans with him as Taemin releases over Jonghyun’s working hand, some of his cum splatting on Jonghyun’s cheek. Taemin comes down hard, his chest heaving and eyes almost drifting shut as he chuckles, wiping off the streak of translucent white off of Jonghyun’s skin. He guides the finger to Jonghyun’s lips and the latter hums, lapping at the liquid.
The door hits the wall.
“Hey I was wonder - oops, never mind.” Gwiboon swiftly whirls on her feet and slams the door. Taemin distantly wonders how often that happens to Jonghyun, and if he has a plan to stop it because clearly nobody abides by the ‘no one allowed’ rule.
“Are you nervous for tonight?”
“Why on earth would I be nervous?”
Jonghyun grins. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“That’s because you have issues,” Taemin chuckles and sits back in the office chair.
“He said while Googling ‘how to give a blowjob’.”
Taemin clicks out the screen with a ferocious blush.
“I think your sister is a fag hag.”
“What the hell is a ‘fag hag’?”
“It’s a girl who has an abundance of gay males in her life. I think. I heard it when I was in college.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s a statement; I’m not judging her or anything. I just noticed something casual and I feel like we should talk about it.”
Jonghyun sighs as he turns down a corner. Taemin might be a little nervous for dinner - there, he said it - and Jonghyun isn’t distracting him like he always does when he needs it. Unless you count the way his shirt sticks to his chest, or how tight those jeans are. Because that is definitely a distraction.
“Fine. Let’s talk about it?”
“She touches me too often now; can you tell her to stop?”
Jonghyun snorts. “Taemin. Tell her yourself.”
“Are you insane? She has the wrath of a hippo,” Taemin reasons.
Jonghyun glances over at him as he turns into the parking lot. “Did you just call my sister fat?”
“Did you even go to school; hippos are one of the most, if not the most, vicious animals on earth. She would chew out my insides.” Taemin shudders.
“Do you always rant when you’re nervous?”
“Do you always…” Taemin sighs. “Shut up.”
Jonghyun grins victoriously as he pulls into a spare spot. He switches off the engine. The seatbelt slings back and he twists in his seat, leaning forward to peck Taemin’s lips. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
Taemin glares at him. He feels himself going a little cross-eyed from their proximity.
The restaurant that they enter is way over Taemin’s budget (if he even had one). It’s grand; candlelit tables lining the interior, dark russet tile flooring directing their steps, a crystal chandelier that dangles over the bar in the centre of the main room. In all of Taemin’s twenty two years, he’s never seen anything like it. He subconsciously stops dragging his feet and stands up taller.
The waitress leads them to their seat and bows farewell, placing two menus on the table in front of them. Jonghyun smiles up at her and nods his head politely.
The quiet buzz of socialites around them entrances Taemin. He focuses in on a man at the bar, his eyes crinkling as he pleasantly laughs at what must be a joke that his companion says. Taemin distantly wonders if everybody in the upper-class acts so pompous with their flashy watches, gleaming shoes, perfectly styled outfits.
Taemin returns his attention to Jonghyun. His companion is scanning the menu, licking his lips as his eyes dart across the page, pausing to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. Taemin pinches with distaste, but he instantly relaxes his features when Jonghyun’s lips pucker in concentration. He can’t help the vague smile on his lips.
Jonghyun’s Rolex is around Taemin’s wrist, he let Taemin borrow a nice blue button down shirt, is wearing a pair of Jonghyun’s shoes that are too big on him. Said man is sitting across the table and is looking gorgeous in his casual wear, like it takes no effort for him to blend in with the people that surround them. Taemin wonders if he fits in too, if Jonghyun’s happy with what he’s got.
Taemin cocks a brow when he notices a waitress leaving from their table. “You ordered for me.”
“You didn’t even look at the menu.”
“I was busy.”
Jonghyun stares at him, tilting his head with that knowing look of his. “Staring at me?”
Taemin pouts as he dodges the question at hand. “I feel like your wife. I hope this isn’t another grand scheme of yours to get into my pants.”
“Taemin, I’ve been in your pants.”
Taemin sits back in his chair. “Oh yeah. So you have.”
“You’re impossible.” Jonghyun chuckles. He slightly nudges Taemin’s foot under the table.
“You still don’t get to fuck me.” Taemin kicks his shin inadvertently.
Jonghyun sulks, but his eyes shine with mirth. “What if I say please?”
“I knew you wanted to fuck me!”
And maybe, Taemin would let him too, because Jonghyun is slowly inching his way into Taemin’s heart with every melodic laugh and lame joke, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do about that.
The dinner passes by without much of a hitch. While Taemin practically inhales the delicious food with little to no grace, he’s forced to stop when his knife isn’t sharp enough to cut the steak. He sends a swift glare to their waitress frolicking at another table - even though she can’t see him - and then sits back in his chair, eying Jonghyun’s bigger, sharper knife from across the table.
“Would you like me to cut that up for you, Taeminnie?”
“If you could just pass me your knife, that would be really great.” Taemin smiles and so does Jonghyun as he beckons with his fingers for Taemin to hand him his plate. Taemin does no such thing.
“You’re sulking like a child,” Jonghyun notes as he reaches over and snatches Taemin’s plate.
“Why would she give you a big knife and not me? I’m writing a letter of complaint as soon as we get home.” Taemin scoffs and observes as Jonghyun stifles his smile while he cuts up the meat in small cubes.
Taemin sighs; complete exaggerated and child-like.
Jonghyun pays for the bill and suggests they visit the bar (he thinks he recognizes that woman in the blue dress). Taemin shrugs, noncommittal, and he’s well aware on Jonghyun’s hand pressing into his lower back as they close in on the bar.
As it turns out, the lady in the blue dress? It’s one of Jonghyun’s exes, from back when he was yet to slam those doors of the homosexual closet. Taemin smiles as politely as he can in this kind of situation; not jealous, just…a little misfit.
“What would you like to drink? Martini?” Jonghyun whispers directly into his ear as he slides his hand around Taemin’s waist and tugs him closer so they’re pressing side to side.
Taemin nods, wiggling out of Jonghyun’s grasp. He retreats to the edge of the social circle and dawdles, face stoic as he wiggles his toes in Jonghyun’s shoes, swaying his body to the quiet jazz music. Jonghyun returns a moment later but it feels like a year, this entire fiasco much too awkward, and the people surrounding him too obdurate for him to get a word in on their boring conversation.
Taemin sighs when Jonghyun suggests that they all sit, have another drink.
It is one o’clock in the morning when Jonghyun and his crew decide to call it quits. Jonghyun’s had a bit too much to drink, and Taemin’s taken it upon himself to be the designated driver, eagerly hauling Jonghyun into the passenger seat and squealing when he situates himself on the driver’s side. He caresses the steering wheel with an awed moan, cooing as he turns the key. The engine roars to life and Taemin might have just blown a load in his pants.
Driving home takes longer than the first run. Taemin turns down a few different roads that take him to a few different places, has a total blast trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this stupid asshole neighbourhood, all whilst Jonghyun’s head lolls around on the seat next to him, contently humming along to the song on the radio.
The streetlamps hue yellow in large, fading dots on the road. Some of the shop lights are still on, but it’s generally quiet, and Taemin reclines back in the leather seat of Jonghyun’s car, one hand on the wheel and the other holding up his head in a fist. That one martini that he had earlier is well out of his system by now, but he still feels a nice, comfortable buzz in his body as he rounds the bar and slides the car into the garage.
The cool air entices a shiver out of him as Taemin dodges around the car to get to Jonghyun.
“I can walk, Taemin,” Jonghyun giggles, slamming the car door accidentally.
“Then why did you make me practically drag you?”
Jonghyun shrugs as Taemin clicks the car locked. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well, I’m just cute doing everything, aren’t I?”
Jonghyun hums. “Pretty much.”
Taemin scowls at the back of Jonghyun’s head as they walk through the elongated archway that leads to the bar.
“Offt.” Taemin tumbles into Jonghyun’s back when he abruptly halts in the doorway. When he doesn’t make a move immediately, Taemin’s brows burrow and he twists around his body to view what Jonghyun is looking at.
“Holy…” The entire bar is what Jonghyun is looking at. It’s ruined. More than ruined. It’s completely devastated, the entire stock of glasses shattered across the floor, bulbs dangling from their hooks. Everything is soaked, the bar seats slashed and spewing up all over the floor. Jinki’s there, his shirt is shredded at the sleeve and dark rouge drips from a deep slice in his arm. The car keys drop from Taemin’s hand. “…Shit.”
Jonghyun rushes towards Jinki, the solid crunch of glass underneath his feet. “Jinki! Are you okay?! What happened?!”
The bags under Jinki’s eyes bulge right out of his face when he grimly glances up from his slumped position over the bar. “Jonghyun…” He says, his voice coarse. “I’m so sorry…”
Taemin’s feet are glued to the floor at the doorway. His hands shake. He can see their mouths moving, but it’s all a blur, fuzzing in Taemin’s ears. This is just like his apartment. The one they trashed. It has to be them. It has to be. They’re back for him, and they’re taking Jonghyun down too.
The blood from Jinki’s wound seeps through his shirt. When he brings his hand up to run it down his face as he apologizes profusely, it’s swathed in blood, and he smears a dark stripe down his cheek.
Taemin’s hearing focuses in when Jonghyun suddenly makes a darted move. “Shit, where’s Key?!” he’s yelling. “Key!”
“Everyone is upstairs,” Jinki groans, his hand squeezing his injury. “She’s okay.”
“Taemin,” Jonghyun addresses him, “Go upstairs.”
Taemin nods instantly and dashes from the room right when Jinki is telling Jonghyun, “I tried to call you…”, and he takes two steps at a time, their conversation fading in the distance. Guilt rings in Taemin’s ears, his body trembling as he swallows the dry feeling in his mouth. Hatred - for himself, for the situation, for everything - explodes in his heart and he’s completely disgusted with himself, how he’s dragged Jonghyun into such a catastrophe.
Taemin stops at the front door. If he never came back to the bar on that night, the night they chased him, this never would have happened. Jonghyun wouldn’t be in this calamity. Jinki would be fine too. Taemin wouldn’t be able to hear Gwiboon’s wrecked sobs through the wood.
With his unsteady hands, Taemin fishes his keys from his pocket. The sound of it sliding into the lock blasts Taemin’s ear drums.
Gwiboon’s wailing intensifies as Taemin jerks the door open. Her small body is curled up in a ball on the couch, her knees hugged to her chest, pressing a tissue against her face. Their co-workers crowd around in the kitchen, a few sparing some precautious glances over to her.
Gwiboon looks up at him with glassy eyes at the sound of the door, her lip quivering. “Taemin.”
Taemin’s heart drops into his stomach. He sprints to her and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her to his chest with a weak, “Noona”.
“Taemin-ah.” She weeps into his chest, clutching his blue shirt in her fist as he soothes her, petting her hair down.
“I’m so sorry, noona,” he whispers.
She sniffles, nodding her head. “I t-thought,” she sobs, “I was g-going to d-die. They were s-so big and Jinki, he’s not c-came up y-yet and I’m s-so,” she hiccups, “w-worried.”
“Jinki’s fine,” Taemin reassures her, clenching his eyes shut.
Remorse riddles Taemin’s mind. He always does this, always fucks everything up when it’s perfect; he did it with his family, his friends, his life, and now Jonghyun, his family, his friends, his life. It’s a circle full of disasters that always end up with the same ending: nothing. Jonghyun hates him now, he’s not stupid - he know who did this, and Taemin has no idea how he’s supposed to fix it, because this time he does want to mend this, he has to.
next
pairing: jongtae
rating: R (overall)
summary: the general consensus goes a little something like this: taemin needs a job. really quickly.
It takes Taemin a couple days to summon the strength to come clean. It’s just after they’ve…Well, it’s just after Taemin bent Jonghyun over the bed and fucked him raw. Taemin pants as he crawls onto the bed and lays spread eagle, leaving little space for Jonghyun to squeeze in, but he manages to find away and fastens their bodies together, curling around Taemin’s thin frame.
The apology stage was something Taemin’s not really accustomed to, considering he’s never been that close to someone to need to apologize, in the wrong or not. And yes, Taemin knows he’s in the wrong, he knew it the second Gwiboon pulled him into the bathroom, he knew it the second the thought flew into his head, hell, he knew it before the night even began; which does, admittedly, make it a lot easier for him to whisper ‘I’m sorry’ against Jonghyun’s lips.
“You probably won’t believe me, but I really wasn’t going to fuck Gwiboon.” Taemin stares up at the ceiling, revelling in the aftermath of past orgasm.
“Just a sly blowjob in the men’s toilet then?” Jonghyun doesn’t sound angry, not anymore, and Taemin continues.
“No, we weren’t going to do anything.”
“It looked like it.”
“You make a fair argument, but it’s just not going to happen, Jonghyun.”
Jonghyun lifts his head from Taemin’s bony chest; his hair slicked the side of his face with the adhesive of their sweat. “Fine. Humour me. Why not then?”
“Um.”
“Too slutty for your taste?”
Taemin inhales deeply. “I couldn’t get hard,” he whispers on the exhale.
“You couldn’t get hard?”
“I couldn’t get hard.”
Silence.
And then, Jonghyun’s guffawing so loud it resonates off the walls and chokes Taemin into a seething silence, a violent brush staining his cheeks. Jonghyun’s body sways with his laughter, his face scrunching up and teeth exposed, gleaming at him.
Taemin sighs.
“I’m sorry,” Jonghyun laughs, taking in a large gulp of air, “I’m sorry, it’s just…That’s really funny.”
“I’m failing to see the humour,” Taemin says dryly and shoves Jonghyun off him to sit up. Jonghyun swings one arm over his chest and hauls him back down, instantly snugging into his body. He’s body trembles with silent laughter and Taemin rolls his eyes for good measure, huffing as Jonghyun hooks his leg over Taemin’s.
“I guess you can only get hard for me then.”
Taemin grumbles something incoherent.
“I was wrong the entire time.” Taemin sits on Jonghyun’s desk a few days later, one leg dangling off the edge. “I can’t believe I was wrong. I’m never wrong! My life is a mess.”
Jonghyun looks up at him through the lenses of his glasses and cocks a brow. “You were…wrong?”
“You didn’t want to fuck me,” Taemin contemplates. “You wanted me to fuck you!”
Jonghyun rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and returns his attention to the papers scattered on his desk, jotting down numbers in respective places. Taemin swings his leg, tilting his head as he thinks, his eyes squinting, and lips pursed.
“Oh, but wait,” he finally says.
“Taemin, I really have to work right now.” Jonghyun pleads, “Go make me a coffee or something.”
“I’m not your slave,” Taemin hisses. “As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” Taemin fires a glance over, “considering your lack in reply to my observation, does that mean that you still do, in fact, want to fuck me? Because I feel like it’s my sole purpose in this world to let you know that it’s never going to happen.”
Over the course of the few days following, Jonghyun and Taemin had fucked practically everywhere. All of which Taemin had taken the initiative and plunged inside of Jonghyun underneath him, on top of him, next to him. Jonghyun hadn’t complained once, he was more than willing, and Taemin can’t help but wonder, because it doesn’t really seem like him, the kind who would be so submissive underneath him.
Then again, Taemin’s not exactly going to protest either.
“Taemin.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
Taemin’s jaw drops.
And then he smiles.
“Are you asking me to shut up because it’s true?”
“Taemin, seriously.”
“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Taemin surrenders and hops down from the desk.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t try and be nice. You’re not fucking me.”
“I was being polite?”
Taemin clucks his tongue and turns on his heel, holding his head high as he disregards Jonghyun’s words and embarks on a mission to the kitchen. With a scowl, Taemin fills up the kettle and clicks it on, still pouting when he pours in a packet of some fancy coffee that he can’t read the label of (which dampens his mood significantly considering his major was literature).
He brings the coffee to Jonghyun with the same scowl and slams it on the desk, some on the froth gliding down the white ceramic.
“Oh. You made me coffee,” Jonghyun hums as he takes a sip. “I thought you weren’t my slave.”
“I’m not,” Taemin clarifies.
“But you said that if you made me coffee that would make you my slave,” Jonghyun notes, pointing his pen in Taemin’s direction.
Taemin shrugs. “It doesn’t.”
“…Okay.” Jonghyun goes back to his work, glancing one more at Taemin when he still lurks around.
“Besides,” Taemin resumes his seat on the desk and picks up a piece of paper. He eyes it with superficial suspicion. “I’d much rather be your boyfriend.”
Then pen slips from Jonghyun’s grip. He clears his throat. “Oh? Like, dates and stuff?”
“Considering that’s what couples do, yes.”
“You want to?”
“Is asking you out always this awkward? Or is this just another one of your pursuits to make my life hell? Because if I had known I never would have - ”
“I thought you weren’t gay.”
“I’m not.”
“Dating me kind of makes you gay. Well, no, not kind of. It makes you gay.”
Taemin slides to his feet from the desk and manoeuvres around it. He leans over Jonghyun, elbows locked on the arms of his chair. “Maybe I’m just a little gay for you,” he whispers against Jonghyun’s lips and presses in. Jonghyun sighs into the kiss, angles his head to deepen it and Taemin obliges, sliding a little bit of tongue.
“…You know you can’t see Minho anymore, right?”
“Same goes for you.”
“Please, I was never seeing Minho. He’s an asshole.”
Jonghyun shakes his head and flicks his forehead. “You idiot, I meant Gwiboon. And Jinki, on second thought.” Jonghyun looks hilariously unhappy about something. “God damn, I need to tie you up or something.”
Taemin cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling.
Things are significantly awkward with Gwiboon.
Which is a complete and utter lie.
They would be significantly awkward if she wasn’t avoiding him.
Taemin’s a little sceptical about it all, the memory a little ambiguous in his head, but he’s very convinced that it’s completely uncalled for and that she’s acting like a downright bitch, never around when he wants to talk, and frankly, Taemin is insulted - she’s basically the only thing he has that’s close to a best friend (other than Jonghyun), and he may or may not miss her snide remarks.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin says one shift as he’s mopping the bar floor, her begrudgingly wiping down glasses and placing them back on the rack with a slam. He doesn’t exactly hold the dignity to hold his head up and look at her just yet.
“So you should be.”
There’s a squeak every time she shines a particular part of the glass. It’s really, really annoying.
“Then it’s a good thing I am.”
“You ruined my birthday.” Gwiboon is in a strop. Which makes this a lot more difficult than it has to be. Taemin shrugs it off, taking on the challenge - he values their friendship a lot more than to simply walk away.
Taemin finally summons up the courage and looks up. “I apologize for ruining your birthday, noona.”
Gwiboon lets out a huff of air, gently placing the glass on the counter and she twists to face him. “I like it when you call me noona,” she says and she’s finally smiling, albeit it’s a small one.
“I like calling you noona.”
Gwiboon stares at him and Taemin shrinks under her gaze, recoiling back a little. And then she bursts.
“Thank god we’re friends again because you will never guess what happened last weekend.” Taemin grins. “So I was out with Jinki and we had a couple drinks, whatever, and he was kinda hitting on me? And I was like okay, cool, I can handle this, he’s kinda cute I guess.”
Taemin gives a hum to let her know he’s still listening and continues his prestigious mopping career.
“We actually came here for a little while, not too sure where you were, and we were dancing and stuff, you know, whatever. And then he kissed me!”
Taemin’s brows rise, smiling. “He kissed you? Do you like him?”
“Maybe? I don’t know!” Gwiboon presses her palms to her rosy cheeks and tries to calm her grin, but it’s just not happening for her. “He’s cute. Have you seen his bulge though? That thing would tear me apart!”
“Your lack of morals never ceases to amaze me.”
“Well, you’re gay aren’t you? Jesus, it’s getting hot in here just thinking about it.”
“What? I’m not gay,” Taemin denies instantly, defensive. He has no qualms telling Gwiboon, he just worries about her blabbermouth.
“Then why are you dating Jonghyun?”
“We’re not dating.”
Gwiboon cocks a brow and stares at him.
Taemin sighs. “Fine, we’re dating, but I will severely compromise your possible relationship with Jinki if you tell anybody.”
Gwiboon smiles. “Of course.”
It’s a week later. Everybody knows he’s gay. Taemin isn’t even surprised. Neither is anybody else, actually, just a little confused. Taemin concludes that it’s because he’s so skinny. He figures that reconstructive surgery will be needed to console his humiliation.
He glares at everybody who even looks like they’re about to bring it up, especially Jinki, and Taemin just knows it’s driving him to the brink of insanity. He disregards it with a grin for that very reason and passes on by him to Jonghyun’s office door and barges in without knocking.
Jonghyun glances up. “I’m like 99.8% sure I’ve told you to knock before.”
“I recall no such thing.” Taemin closes the door behind him and slinks into the room and lifts a leg over Jonghyun’s body to pitch himself on the desk, effectively ceasing him from working.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“I bribed Gwiboon into mopping the floor,” Taemin says.
Jonghyun hums as his hands trail up Taemin’s thighs. “How’d you manage to do that?”
“I told her I wouldn’t seize her relationship with Jinki by cutting off his dick if she did what I asked.”
Jonghyun chuckles and grips Taemin’s hips. He manhandles Taemin down into his lap. “How sadistic of you,” Jonghyun purrs as he leans forward and kisses Taemin’s neck.
“I like them dating. It gives me a lot of pleasure knowing she’s happy.” Taemin clenches Jonghyun’s shoulders.
“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun rumbles against his neck between lucid kisses, “It sure sounds like it.”
“Have you booked the table for tomorrow?” Taemin tries to distract Jonghyun, mostly for himself because he can practically feel all blood and rationality in his head sink right down to his cock.
“For nine.” Taemin’s distraction doesn’t work as well as he anticipated, because Jonghyun’s nibbling down to his collarbones, pulling his shirt back like it’s a curtain to mouth at more of Taemin’s chest.
“I can’t believe we’re going on a date,” Taemin squeezes out as Jonghyun unbuttons his shirt, kissing the skin that shows bit by bit. Jonghyun nuzzles at his chest, urging him to lean back a bit. “How painfully domestic of us,” Taemin says as he obliges.
“You’re the one who suggested we go out to dinner.”
“I know,” Taemin moans as Jonghyun laps at his nipple, eliciting it to hardness. “And I- ah, I regret that decision.”
“You don’t want to have dinner with me?” Jonghyun cups Taemin’s bulge in his palm and rubs.
“Of course I do… Jonghyun,” Taemin whimpers, jerking his hips forward to capture the friction. Jonghyun chuckles against Taemin’s skin, squeezing the head of Taemin’s cock through the fabric and humming in approval when Taemin mewls.
“Do you want me to suck you?”
Taemin whines.
“Get on the desk,” Jonghyun commands. Once Taemin is fully situated, Jonghyun gazes up at him, his lips pouted and eyes hazy as his fingers fumble with the button and zipper of Taemin’s black jeans. He doesn’t bother any further, goes straight in for the kill and drags his tongue over Taemin’s erection through the cotton of his tight boxers, purring in his throat.
Taemin’s never met anybody who sucks cock with so much vehemence. Jonghyun’s lips look perfect stretched around his cock, and his tongue always does just the right thing to shove Taemin over the edge. Jonghyun guides Taemin’s cock out of his boxers, sitting the elastic under his balls, and licks up the underside. He swirls his tongue over the ridge, lapping at the slit and then he takes Taemin into his mouth, moaning around the girth instantly as his he slides it deeper.
Taemin slings his head back, clutching the edge of the desk. Air whispers through his clenched teeth on the inhale as Jonghyun’s cheeks hallow, explicit noises so loud in the silence, and Taemin grasps the back of Jonghyun’s head, digging his fingernails into the scalp when Jonghyun slides him down his throat.
“Does it feel good?” Jonghyun tosses his hair to the side and smirks up at Taemin as he jerks his cock in a tight circle.
“God yes,” Taemin moans and Jonghyun smiles triumphantly, leaning forward again to direct Taemin back into his mouth. A loud groan resonates from his throat when Jonghyun flicks his tongue against the head and then he slides his mouth back down, so hot and wet that Taemin almost chokes on his breath.
His orgasm tugs in his stomach as Jonghyun bobs his head, slurping obscenely around Taemin’s cock, his moans vibrating and casting Taemin closer to the finish line. And then he does that thing with his tongue and Taemin loses all control, gripping Jonghyun’s hair in a fist to pull him back off his cock. Jonghyun moans with him as Taemin releases over Jonghyun’s working hand, some of his cum splatting on Jonghyun’s cheek. Taemin comes down hard, his chest heaving and eyes almost drifting shut as he chuckles, wiping off the streak of translucent white off of Jonghyun’s skin. He guides the finger to Jonghyun’s lips and the latter hums, lapping at the liquid.
The door hits the wall.
“Hey I was wonder - oops, never mind.” Gwiboon swiftly whirls on her feet and slams the door. Taemin distantly wonders how often that happens to Jonghyun, and if he has a plan to stop it because clearly nobody abides by the ‘no one allowed’ rule.
“Are you nervous for tonight?”
“Why on earth would I be nervous?”
Jonghyun grins. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“That’s because you have issues,” Taemin chuckles and sits back in the office chair.
“He said while Googling ‘how to give a blowjob’.”
Taemin clicks out the screen with a ferocious blush.
“I think your sister is a fag hag.”
“What the hell is a ‘fag hag’?”
“It’s a girl who has an abundance of gay males in her life. I think. I heard it when I was in college.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s a statement; I’m not judging her or anything. I just noticed something casual and I feel like we should talk about it.”
Jonghyun sighs as he turns down a corner. Taemin might be a little nervous for dinner - there, he said it - and Jonghyun isn’t distracting him like he always does when he needs it. Unless you count the way his shirt sticks to his chest, or how tight those jeans are. Because that is definitely a distraction.
“Fine. Let’s talk about it?”
“She touches me too often now; can you tell her to stop?”
Jonghyun snorts. “Taemin. Tell her yourself.”
“Are you insane? She has the wrath of a hippo,” Taemin reasons.
Jonghyun glances over at him as he turns into the parking lot. “Did you just call my sister fat?”
“Did you even go to school; hippos are one of the most, if not the most, vicious animals on earth. She would chew out my insides.” Taemin shudders.
“Do you always rant when you’re nervous?”
“Do you always…” Taemin sighs. “Shut up.”
Jonghyun grins victoriously as he pulls into a spare spot. He switches off the engine. The seatbelt slings back and he twists in his seat, leaning forward to peck Taemin’s lips. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
Taemin glares at him. He feels himself going a little cross-eyed from their proximity.
The restaurant that they enter is way over Taemin’s budget (if he even had one). It’s grand; candlelit tables lining the interior, dark russet tile flooring directing their steps, a crystal chandelier that dangles over the bar in the centre of the main room. In all of Taemin’s twenty two years, he’s never seen anything like it. He subconsciously stops dragging his feet and stands up taller.
The waitress leads them to their seat and bows farewell, placing two menus on the table in front of them. Jonghyun smiles up at her and nods his head politely.
The quiet buzz of socialites around them entrances Taemin. He focuses in on a man at the bar, his eyes crinkling as he pleasantly laughs at what must be a joke that his companion says. Taemin distantly wonders if everybody in the upper-class acts so pompous with their flashy watches, gleaming shoes, perfectly styled outfits.
Taemin returns his attention to Jonghyun. His companion is scanning the menu, licking his lips as his eyes dart across the page, pausing to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. Taemin pinches with distaste, but he instantly relaxes his features when Jonghyun’s lips pucker in concentration. He can’t help the vague smile on his lips.
Jonghyun’s Rolex is around Taemin’s wrist, he let Taemin borrow a nice blue button down shirt, is wearing a pair of Jonghyun’s shoes that are too big on him. Said man is sitting across the table and is looking gorgeous in his casual wear, like it takes no effort for him to blend in with the people that surround them. Taemin wonders if he fits in too, if Jonghyun’s happy with what he’s got.
Taemin cocks a brow when he notices a waitress leaving from their table. “You ordered for me.”
“You didn’t even look at the menu.”
“I was busy.”
Jonghyun stares at him, tilting his head with that knowing look of his. “Staring at me?”
Taemin pouts as he dodges the question at hand. “I feel like your wife. I hope this isn’t another grand scheme of yours to get into my pants.”
“Taemin, I’ve been in your pants.”
Taemin sits back in his chair. “Oh yeah. So you have.”
“You’re impossible.” Jonghyun chuckles. He slightly nudges Taemin’s foot under the table.
“You still don’t get to fuck me.” Taemin kicks his shin inadvertently.
Jonghyun sulks, but his eyes shine with mirth. “What if I say please?”
“I knew you wanted to fuck me!”
And maybe, Taemin would let him too, because Jonghyun is slowly inching his way into Taemin’s heart with every melodic laugh and lame joke, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do about that.
The dinner passes by without much of a hitch. While Taemin practically inhales the delicious food with little to no grace, he’s forced to stop when his knife isn’t sharp enough to cut the steak. He sends a swift glare to their waitress frolicking at another table - even though she can’t see him - and then sits back in his chair, eying Jonghyun’s bigger, sharper knife from across the table.
“Would you like me to cut that up for you, Taeminnie?”
“If you could just pass me your knife, that would be really great.” Taemin smiles and so does Jonghyun as he beckons with his fingers for Taemin to hand him his plate. Taemin does no such thing.
“You’re sulking like a child,” Jonghyun notes as he reaches over and snatches Taemin’s plate.
“Why would she give you a big knife and not me? I’m writing a letter of complaint as soon as we get home.” Taemin scoffs and observes as Jonghyun stifles his smile while he cuts up the meat in small cubes.
Taemin sighs; complete exaggerated and child-like.
Jonghyun pays for the bill and suggests they visit the bar (he thinks he recognizes that woman in the blue dress). Taemin shrugs, noncommittal, and he’s well aware on Jonghyun’s hand pressing into his lower back as they close in on the bar.
As it turns out, the lady in the blue dress? It’s one of Jonghyun’s exes, from back when he was yet to slam those doors of the homosexual closet. Taemin smiles as politely as he can in this kind of situation; not jealous, just…a little misfit.
“What would you like to drink? Martini?” Jonghyun whispers directly into his ear as he slides his hand around Taemin’s waist and tugs him closer so they’re pressing side to side.
Taemin nods, wiggling out of Jonghyun’s grasp. He retreats to the edge of the social circle and dawdles, face stoic as he wiggles his toes in Jonghyun’s shoes, swaying his body to the quiet jazz music. Jonghyun returns a moment later but it feels like a year, this entire fiasco much too awkward, and the people surrounding him too obdurate for him to get a word in on their boring conversation.
Taemin sighs when Jonghyun suggests that they all sit, have another drink.
It is one o’clock in the morning when Jonghyun and his crew decide to call it quits. Jonghyun’s had a bit too much to drink, and Taemin’s taken it upon himself to be the designated driver, eagerly hauling Jonghyun into the passenger seat and squealing when he situates himself on the driver’s side. He caresses the steering wheel with an awed moan, cooing as he turns the key. The engine roars to life and Taemin might have just blown a load in his pants.
Driving home takes longer than the first run. Taemin turns down a few different roads that take him to a few different places, has a total blast trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this stupid asshole neighbourhood, all whilst Jonghyun’s head lolls around on the seat next to him, contently humming along to the song on the radio.
The streetlamps hue yellow in large, fading dots on the road. Some of the shop lights are still on, but it’s generally quiet, and Taemin reclines back in the leather seat of Jonghyun’s car, one hand on the wheel and the other holding up his head in a fist. That one martini that he had earlier is well out of his system by now, but he still feels a nice, comfortable buzz in his body as he rounds the bar and slides the car into the garage.
The cool air entices a shiver out of him as Taemin dodges around the car to get to Jonghyun.
“I can walk, Taemin,” Jonghyun giggles, slamming the car door accidentally.
“Then why did you make me practically drag you?”
Jonghyun shrugs as Taemin clicks the car locked. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well, I’m just cute doing everything, aren’t I?”
Jonghyun hums. “Pretty much.”
Taemin scowls at the back of Jonghyun’s head as they walk through the elongated archway that leads to the bar.
“Offt.” Taemin tumbles into Jonghyun’s back when he abruptly halts in the doorway. When he doesn’t make a move immediately, Taemin’s brows burrow and he twists around his body to view what Jonghyun is looking at.
“Holy…” The entire bar is what Jonghyun is looking at. It’s ruined. More than ruined. It’s completely devastated, the entire stock of glasses shattered across the floor, bulbs dangling from their hooks. Everything is soaked, the bar seats slashed and spewing up all over the floor. Jinki’s there, his shirt is shredded at the sleeve and dark rouge drips from a deep slice in his arm. The car keys drop from Taemin’s hand. “…Shit.”
Jonghyun rushes towards Jinki, the solid crunch of glass underneath his feet. “Jinki! Are you okay?! What happened?!”
The bags under Jinki’s eyes bulge right out of his face when he grimly glances up from his slumped position over the bar. “Jonghyun…” He says, his voice coarse. “I’m so sorry…”
Taemin’s feet are glued to the floor at the doorway. His hands shake. He can see their mouths moving, but it’s all a blur, fuzzing in Taemin’s ears. This is just like his apartment. The one they trashed. It has to be them. It has to be. They’re back for him, and they’re taking Jonghyun down too.
The blood from Jinki’s wound seeps through his shirt. When he brings his hand up to run it down his face as he apologizes profusely, it’s swathed in blood, and he smears a dark stripe down his cheek.
Taemin’s hearing focuses in when Jonghyun suddenly makes a darted move. “Shit, where’s Key?!” he’s yelling. “Key!”
“Everyone is upstairs,” Jinki groans, his hand squeezing his injury. “She’s okay.”
“Taemin,” Jonghyun addresses him, “Go upstairs.”
Taemin nods instantly and dashes from the room right when Jinki is telling Jonghyun, “I tried to call you…”, and he takes two steps at a time, their conversation fading in the distance. Guilt rings in Taemin’s ears, his body trembling as he swallows the dry feeling in his mouth. Hatred - for himself, for the situation, for everything - explodes in his heart and he’s completely disgusted with himself, how he’s dragged Jonghyun into such a catastrophe.
Taemin stops at the front door. If he never came back to the bar on that night, the night they chased him, this never would have happened. Jonghyun wouldn’t be in this calamity. Jinki would be fine too. Taemin wouldn’t be able to hear Gwiboon’s wrecked sobs through the wood.
With his unsteady hands, Taemin fishes his keys from his pocket. The sound of it sliding into the lock blasts Taemin’s ear drums.
Gwiboon’s wailing intensifies as Taemin jerks the door open. Her small body is curled up in a ball on the couch, her knees hugged to her chest, pressing a tissue against her face. Their co-workers crowd around in the kitchen, a few sparing some precautious glances over to her.
Gwiboon looks up at him with glassy eyes at the sound of the door, her lip quivering. “Taemin.”
Taemin’s heart drops into his stomach. He sprints to her and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her to his chest with a weak, “Noona”.
“Taemin-ah.” She weeps into his chest, clutching his blue shirt in her fist as he soothes her, petting her hair down.
“I’m so sorry, noona,” he whispers.
She sniffles, nodding her head. “I t-thought,” she sobs, “I was g-going to d-die. They were s-so big and Jinki, he’s not c-came up y-yet and I’m s-so,” she hiccups, “w-worried.”
“Jinki’s fine,” Taemin reassures her, clenching his eyes shut.
Remorse riddles Taemin’s mind. He always does this, always fucks everything up when it’s perfect; he did it with his family, his friends, his life, and now Jonghyun, his family, his friends, his life. It’s a circle full of disasters that always end up with the same ending: nothing. Jonghyun hates him now, he’s not stupid - he know who did this, and Taemin has no idea how he’s supposed to fix it, because this time he does want to mend this, he has to.
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