[E18] HEARTS DON'T ONLY BEAT (1/2)
Prompt Code: E18
Title: Hearts Don’t Only Beat
Rating: nc-17
Side Pairings (if any): Hunhan
Warnings: Poorly written smut scenes, Cursing, slight angst, sorta crack-ish at some points.
Word Count: 18,180
Summary: Jongin is a superhuman who doesn’t know how to handle his feelings. Kyungsoo is another superhuman who might end up changing that for the better.
AN: Hello! I am extremely excited to share this fic. This is my first time posting a fic, so please bear with me haha. I had a really great time writing this fic, and I just want to thank the mods for being so kind and patient with me. To the prompter, I hope I didn’t let you down. This is completely unbeta-ed by the way. To all readers, please enjoy! I am looking to improve in the future. Also, this is my first attempt at smut so I am so sorry.
The first time Jongin teleports, he is six years old. He’s in the bath with bubbles because bubbles are his favorite. His mother is downstairs, checking on the dakjuk she is preparing for supper so Jongin can have something warm to eat before bed. She would prefer for her husband to arrive home from work with something already set out for him too. This year, the winter season has been colder than usual, and Mrs. Kim only wishes for her family to stay well and healthy.
“When I get back, you have to come out okay, Jongin-ah?” she had told him, moving quickly on her feet and out of the bathroom.
The small, brown-haired boy only half listens to his mother, nodding his head while giggling at a bubble as its translucent form lands on his nose then pops. Tiny suds of what remains rest at the tip of said facial structure, so he brings the back of his hand to wipe it off, and continues to play.
Jongin likes bubbles because they’re pretty and can float anywhere they want. He only wishes that they didn’t disappear so easily. Whenever Jongin is allowed to play in the bath, he likes to think that the bubbles which rise from the lavender scented foam are other beings who get to have fun all of the time. When they pop, it only means that they’ve gone somewhere else to play and will materialize from the white froth if they decide to come back.
When he hears his mother making her way back upstairs, he decides to be a good boy and start rinsing himself off on his own- just the way his appa showed him. He’s careful to turn the cold water on first, because he will surely burn himself if he does the opposite. However, before his mother can reach the bathroom, the phone rings.
She only sighs, calling out, “Jongin-ah, can you be a big boy and rinse the soap off of yourself? Eomma will let you have bungeoppang before bed if you finish before I get back.”
The six-year-old begins to pout because he wanted his mother to see that he’s already started to rinse off without her having to tell him to. He quickly perks up with the mention of the delicious fish shaped pastry though, shouting an enthusiastic reply to which his mother only chuckles and rushes back down the stairs to catch the person on the other side of the phone.
When the boy is finished with his initial task, he earnestly pulls on the plug in the drain of the tub in an attempt to have the water vacate its surroundings. He does this successfully, but not without slipping.
Jongin anticipates his landing in the water, the sinking foam reminding him of the snow blanketing the ground outside. When he lands, there is no splashing, or soap in his eyes, and his body is anything but warm anymore. Instead, he is splayed out over the same particular bed of snow he thought of previously, which lays beside a tree standing a couple of meters around the side of his house. Jongin is beyond astonished, his adolescent brain trying to figure out how he got here when he was standing in his bathtub a mere second ago. He scrambles up and looks around, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He is very thankful that his mother at least let him wear his favorite pair of swimming trunks while playing in the bath. Even so, he shivers as the flurries blowing around in the air begin to stick to his wet skin.
When he looks to his left, he sees his next door neighbor, Mr. Chung, shoveling snow out of his driveway. Jongin is on the verge of tears, the only reasonable reaction his childish mind can give him. Before he can make any further move, Mr. Chung spots him, squinting his eyes in disbelief.
Jongin panics a bit more. Mr. Chung is a grumpy man. Jongin recalls the few times he’s seen his father having small arguments with the man, despite the latter being elder in age which meant that he technically earned respect. Based on his understanding of what ‘respect’ is, Jongin never believed Mr. Chung necessarily deserved the regard. It always seemed like he was the one to instigate quarrels over trivial matters. Once, he threw a big fit because one of Jongin’s playmates had accidentally kicked a ball towards the sidewalk in front of the old man’s house.
“Jongin?” He calls out. “What are you doing out here like this?”
They stare at each other for a few seconds, Jongin not understanding the situation himself, and only wishing for the warmth of the water in the tub he was once sitting in. With that thought, he’s back where he wants to be.
Jongin doesn’t think about the abnormality of the situation. Instead, he turns on the shower for warm water and stands completely under the spray, noticing how the water in the tub has already drained from when he previously pulled the plug. He can’t hear the sound of his mother’s rapid footsteps, but he hears her gasp when she comes inside of the bathroom, hurrying towards the bathtub to turn the water off before crouching down to wrap a large towel around his small body.
“Jongin! The floor is all wet. That is not how you were taught to rinse off, was it?” She scolds.
Jongin looks over his mother’s shoulder, peering down at the tiled flooring outside of the tub which is completely wet due to the inadvertent spray of the shower. “I was cold,” he mumbles.
Mrs. Kim cannot comprehend the situation. She is about to speak up when the doorbell rings. She sighs once again.
“Jongin-ah, go dry off and put on your pajamas, okay? Appa will be home soon and then we will eat dinner together,” she tells him. She sees a sad expression on her son’s face, and instantly feels bad for raising her voice at him. She smiles softy, grabbing a smaller towel to dry his hair with. “Appa is bringing home the bungeoppang, and I’ll let you eat it if you aren’t feeling too full. How does that sound?”
Smiling shyly at his easy going mother, Jongin nods his head, letting her help him out of the tub so he can scurry of to his room to get dressed while his mother goes to answer the front door.
Twenty minutes later, the Kim’s are all seated at dinner. Jongin is happily devouring his porridge and Mr. Kim laughs as he watches his son satiate his appetite, “Jongin-ah, is your mother’s cooking delicious?”
Jongin only smiles, bits of porridge resting on the outsides of his mouth.
Mrs. Kim, on the other hand, looks worried, and it isn’t because of the fact that Jongin’s eating habits might cause him to choke on his food. She puts down her spoon and looks at the six-year-old who is sitting across the table. “Jongin-ah,” she starts softly, “what happened when you were taking a bath?”
“Is something wrong?” Jongin’s father inquires worriedly, studying the look on his wife’s face.
Jongin has forgotten his hunger. He is staring at his spoon, dipping it into the porridge to let some of it seep into the silver bowl, and then flipping the utensil over so the content spills back out. “Eomma,” he murmurs, his small voice wavering while tears threaten to develop behind his eyes. “It was an accident. I don’t want to be taken away, please don’t let them take me, Eomma!”
Jongin may be a child, but he knows the basics of how the world is supposed to work. If you are a good person, you are supposed to be rewarded. If you are bad, you are punished. He’s seen the news on television. The stories about the people who can run really fast, and turn invisible. The stories that end with those same people being sent away to a place Jongin doesn’t quite understand yet. He understands enough to notice that those abilities are not normal, and he’s old enough to understand that in this world, whatever is accepted as abnormal is bad, therefore punishable. Jongin is afraid of being punished.
Mr. Kim instantly understands the situation and gets up, swiftly grabbing Jongin to put him in his lap. “We would never let anyone take you from us. I promise.”
The thing is, his father never said anything about anyone fulfilling the opposite occurrence. Jongin didn’t know what to do when the police ransacked his home and tried to arrest his mother and father the next morning. He didn’t know what to think when he saw his mother levitate a few feet into the air, or when his father’s skin turned into a silvery steel. He didn’t know how to react when his parents somehow diluted the amount of officers long enough for Mrs. Kim to usher him into his room and lock the door while her husband stayed behind to hold off the rest.
His mother crouches in front of him, her expression instantly softening when she’s faced with the tears steadily rolling down her son’s face. “Listen to me, Jongin-ah. Everything is going to be okay. What you did yesterday, is called teleportation. Can you say that for me?”
Jongin tries his best to repeat the foreign word, struggling to pronounce it correctly.
“Tell me how you did it.”
“Eomma- “
Mrs. Kim cradles his face and begins to run her hands through his hair, “Jongin-ah, we do not have much time. What happened when you were taking a bath?”
The sounds of firearms going off startles the quiet room, and Jongin cannot help it as he begins to cry harder. “I was falling and I thought of the snow outside.”
His mother hugs him, fighting to hold back her tears as well. “Who did I say you should call when eomma and appa aren’t around to help?”
Jongin shakes his head, “you and appa are right here!”
A loud crash sounds from downstairs. The sounds of authoritative voices commanding the home follows.
“Jongin-ah, who did I tell you to ask for help?”
He mumbles the answer to his mother before she gives him another set of instructions. “Do you remember what Sehun’s room looks like?”
Jongin nods. His mother grabs his hand and takes him over to his closet, helping him inside.
“Eomma,” he whimpers, his bottom lip quivering as a tear drops off of it. They hug tightly.
Someone starts to bang on Jongin’s bedroom door and they both know that it is only a matter of seconds before whoever is on the other side gets in. Mrs. Kim cards her fingers through her son’s hair one last time. “Be a good boy for me, okay Jongin-ah?”
She lets go before Jongin can say another word, and closes the door. Jongin stands still in the darkness, holding his breath for what is about to come. It isn’t until he hears the sound of his bedroom door hitting the wall that he starts to think of Sehun’s space themed room with blue walls, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, and rocket ships on his bedsheets. So when a tall man in a dark vest, holding a large gun goes into Jongin’s closet, there is nothing there but clothes, shoes, and toys.
And as Jongin’s parents both lie motionless on the ground on separate sides of the house, another man sits at the family’s dinner table, helping himself to Jongin’s favorite pastry.
Jongin will never eat bungeoppang again.
***
Jongin sighs into the phone trapped between his shoulder and ear as he hopelessly stares into his refrigerator. He’s holding a packet of instant noodles in one hand, and an egg in the other. He has a pot of water already boiling on the stove, but the sight in front of him makes him feel mournful. What he sees is half a bottle of orange juice next to the remains of an onion’s carcass, and a rotten banana.
“What’s wrong?” the voice on the other side of the phone asks.
Ramyun with egg it is, Jongin thinks, closing his empty fridge to prepare his meal. “It’s nothing to worry about. I have to stock up on food, that’s all.”
“You can afford to live in a high rise apartment that basically sits on Gwangalli beach, yet you don’t have food in your fridge? Something doesn’t add up,” the person says. “If you’re going to rob people, but not take their money, the least you could do is go for their fridge.”
Jongin glares at his boiling food as he stirs it, “Do you want to die, Sehun?” he threatens. “You can’t say things like that out loud. Especially over the phone.”
There’s silence for a few seconds, but Jongin knows his cousin isn’t trying to be apologetic in the slightest. “The real question is; do you want to die? Because if you don’t stop, you might.”
Here we go again.
The older boy doesn’t have time for this. Or better yet, he doesn’t want to have time for this. It’s not like Sehun hasn’t done it before, and that’s exactly what he says to him.
“Oh come on. I did it with you once, and that was such a close call. It’s not the same as sneaking a couple of won from dad’s jeans when we were in middle school,” his younger cousin responds. “We would’ve gotten arrested that one time if- “
“If it weren’t for me,” Jongin interrupts. “Besides, that was over a year ago. I’ve gotten so much better at it by now.”
He honestly doesn’t understand why Sehun has suddenly become so concerned. They were a mischievous pair since they were kids. It started off with small tricks, like stealing cookies from downstairs after bedtime. Now, it’s solely that things have taken a much more serious turn. At the same time, it isn’t as if they are that serious- At least that’s what Jongin believes. That’s why it annoys him that his once partner in crime is now intimidated by their corrupted government.
Oh wait.
Never mind, Jongin still doesn’t care.
“You know what could happen if the authorities catch you. They may be quieter about it now, but you know what they do to people like us,” the lankier boy chides.
Jongin starts to shake his head, turning off the stove so he can finally serve himself a long-awaited meal. Sehun’s words do nothing to help his mood though.
“I can take care of myself,” Jongin snaps, his tone harsher than any he would usually use.
Sehun decides to back down, knowing that he drew the line despite Jongin’s austere stubbornness. “Mom wants to see you. She wants us to have dinner as a family on Saturday.”
As a family.
The words seem to leave a dull ache in Jongin’s chest. He ignores it though. It’s his head doing the talking.
“That’s fine. I miss her cooking.” Jongin can still remember the taste of the porridge his own mother made him on that night. No other has tasted anything like it.
His heart starts to hurt and he figures its hunger pains. “Listen, I’ll talk to you tomorrow alright? I’m hungry and I have things to do.”
He can hear Sehun mutter something under his breath before he sighs and says, “Saturday, six o-clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
***
There are many questionable things pertaining to Jongin’s life, or at least to those looking on the outside in. Like Sehun had said, it’s weird that Jongin lives in such a lavish apartment, yet he struggles to keep food in his fridge. And it isn’t as if Jongin cannot afford to. As a delivery boy who only has to take care of himself, he does fine. He also makes some great tips, which is obviously a huge bonus. It is gourmet Chinese food (or whatever), after all, and Jongin is a star employee for his efficient services. The thing is, some of the people he’s met in his building have gotten curious.
“You’re a delivery boy and you can afford to live here?” Soo-young had asked him. She lives in an apartment on the floor right above Jongin’s. He met her for the first time after she and her roommate, Seulgi, ordered food from Jian-Mei’s Chinese restaurant. “Your parents must be loaded then. That’s pretty much how I’m able to live here without working,” she continued. Her hip was leaning against the door frame and she made sure to position her body in a way that made her shirt rise up to show a slice of her flat tummy.
“Not exactly,” Jongin said politely.
She didn’t seem to care about Jongin’s response, choosing to reach over and pull Jongin’s work hat off of his head before he could protest. “I wish you didn’t have to wear this. I’ve never seen a Korean pull blonde off as well as you. You could be an idol…” she paused to peek at his nametag, “Kai.”
Jongin tries to keep his distance from Soo-young. The problem is that she is too friendly. He isn’t oblivious to the fact that the two girls upstairs have a crush on him. He can’t deny that they’re both beautiful, but he doesn’t run that way.
Funnily enough, Jongin also met Baekhyun through his service job. They became fast friends, quickly realizing that they live across the hall from each other. It was one evening that Jongin was given a great opportunity when he bumped into the shorter guy in the lobby after a long day at work. Teleporting in and out of his apartment is too risky for him. It might sound a bit like paranoia for someone who regularly burglarizes homes, but Jongin has a habit of paying a lot of attention to his surroundings. He doesn’t doubt that there are other people with the same habit.
“Tired?”
Jongin peeked at Baekhyun from under his work cap, his body was slumped against one of the elevator walls. “You bet.”
The other man had run his fingers through his pink hair and Jongin was surprised at how well the pale color suited him. He gave Jongin an apologetic smile. “I’m coming in from work too. It was a stressful day.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow. “What job is so stressful, but somehow allows you to dye your hair pink?”
Baekhyun had laughed loudly, and Jongin couldn’t help but crack a smile. “I give vocal lessons to teens at D.O.’s Performing Arts Club. Now that I think about it, it isn’t too far from Jian-Mei’s. My co-workers and I often grab lunch from there so I’m sort of surprised that I’ve never bumped into you.”
Jongin knew the exact place that Baekhyun was talking about. He’s passed it a couple of times while doing deliveries, the name bringing interest to him. He’s even delivered there once. He just never had gotten the chance to properly check it out.
“Makes sense though,” Jongin mused, “I deliver to places all over Busan. And not to brag or anything, but apparently, I’m a star employee.”
The pink haired male had rolled his eyes, “sure you are. I know that must look great on your resume.”
“Maybe,” Jongin grinned. Baekhyun’s mockery is an obvious part of his personality and though it might seem insulting, Jongin was sure the other male was being fairly harmless. It’s a part of his natural charm.
“You’re a dancer, right Kai?”
Jongin narrowed his eyes, “how did you know?”
Baekhyun had given him a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve seen you dance in front of the mirror in the fitness room once. You’re gifted.”
“Thanks,” Jongin replied, bowing his head humbly. He often visits the small gym in the building. It’s for tenants only, and Jongin likes it because it never seems to be crowded. Whenever he finds himself completely alone, he’ll play a song on his phone and work on choreography. He’s always practicing moves, whether it’s steps in the shower where he admittedly has busted his ass a few times, or in his head while waiting for someone to come to their door during a delivery
The elevator chimed, signaling that it was time for them to get off. Both men stepped out, slowly walking towards their respective apartments. Baekhyun continued to speak. “There’s a job opening for a dance instructor at D. O.’s. I think you’d be able to get the job easily, and I’m sure you’ll have a better time working with us than delivering Chinese food. Better pay too.”
And that is why Jongin is now standing in the middle of a stranger’s bedroom at 1:00am. He did what Baekhyun had told him. It was so easy to submit an application along with some footage of him dancing. It wasn’t long for him to get the call that he was scheduled for an interview with the head of the dance department either. Jongin was a bit too excited to turn in his two weeks’ notice.
The only problem now is, the single suit Jongin has is getting a bit too tight and he doesn’t have the time (or the money, since he recently paid his rent), to buy a new one. But you can’t go to a job interview without the appropriate clothing right?
So easy, Jongin thinks as he adjusts his eyes to the dark. He gets a little help from the moonlight, as whoever lives here- which from the looks of the figure on the bed, seems to be a man- kept the curtains open to his balcony. The room is huge with a lot of nice furniture, including the king sized bed that this fortunate man is currently sleeping on. Jongin feels fortunate also, especially because he knows there is no way he’s leaving this place empty handed. He knew he was doing something right when he found this pretty penthouse that overlooks the ocean.
“Jackpot,” he whispers under his mouth mask.
The walk in closet is nearly the same size of Jongin’s kitchen. It’s clean and organized too. When he closes the door and turns on the light, he’s finds it in himself to be amused that everything is color coordinated and the clothes are also separated by attire. It doesn’t take him long to find the suits, seeing as they’re right in front, but that is when Jongin realizes that he’s not so lucky after all. He didn’t stop to think about the fact that suits are something you can’t buy (or in his case, steal) simply, but they almost always need to be tailored, regardless if it fits or not. The cuff to the jacket he tries on stops a little bit before his forearm, though it feels like there is too much space in the upper arms of the sleeves.
“Omona,” Jongin silently cries, throwing his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me right now.”
He mumbles curse words and shakes his head as he carefully hangs the jacket back up. He decides to stay on his word on not leaving empty handed and begins to think about what he might want to find. Turning off the light, he blinks into the bedroom where the man is still sound asleep. He’s in a different position from when Jongin first came in, slightly curled up and facing the balcony. Jongin tenses because he’d be right in the man’s line of vision if he were to wake up and open his eyes.
The feeling quickly dissipates.
Wow. He’s good looking, Jongin thinks while taking a few steps to get a closer look. As cheesy as it may sound, the moonlight radiates off of the man, beautifully. Jongin takes a few seconds to admire the man’s dark hair and clear face. He looks rather young, roughly as young as Jongin who sits ripe at the age of 23. The blanket covering him has ridden down to his waist, and Jongin can tell that the man has a nice body by the looks of his toned biceps, though he seems average in stature. Another step closer and Jongin can’t help but be distracted by the man’s plush lips. Jongin imagines kissing them for a moment.
Whoa there Jongin, get a grip.
What he doesn’t imagine is being pinned down to the bed, lying on his stomach with his hands held behind his back by an unremarkably strong force.
“Who are you, and how did you get into my house,” a deep voice demands. It chills Jongin’s spine. The man sounds calm, his voice as quiet as a whisper. Jongin isn’t stupid though, and he recognizes that he should feel very threatened if not for his judgement of the man’s coarse tone. He groans in pain when the man starts to twist his wrists, “I asked you a question.”
Jongin’s mind is yelling at him to get the fuck out of there, but he can’t find it in himself to move. “My name is Oh Kai,” he says instead. Or at least he tries too, although its hard with the mask over his mouth and the way he’s virtually inhaling the cotton sheets.
Fuck, why is he so strong?
That is when Jongin gets it. There is no reason for a guy this size to leave him completely powerless. Jongin may not have the most built body, but he’s definitely not weak. If the man squeezes a little harder, Jongin is sure his wrists will crush, and that’s not normal.
The man loosens his grip and Jongin is about to teleport right back to his apartment when he is forcefully flipped over and dragged off of the bed, his head making hard contact with the shiny wooden floor. A light is turned on and Jongin swears he is seeing stars at this point. There is no way he’ll be able to move, let alone have the energy to use his powers.
“Should I call the police?” the man tries to intimidate. He’s standing right above Jongin from where he is lying pathetically on the floor. The blonde almost chokes, not because of the threat, but because of the fact that the man is not wearing anything but a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He realizes that he’s been staring at the man’s crotch and blushes.
The man is looking right at Jongin’s face.
His is expression steely and unreadable while his eyes start to move across Jongin’s body. “I saw what you did, you know?” he reaches Jongin’s gaze again and the teleporter tries his best to hold his ground… Even if he’s literally lying on it.
There is one thing though, that many people don’t understand. Jongin is good at taking things, and that includes the upper hand. He conjures the strength to stand up, and when he does, he sees a silver name tag on the man’s night table. Do Kyungsoo, it reads. He’s delighted to confirm that he’s at least a head and a few inches taller than the man, but the man, or Kyungsoo, doesn’t lose face. Jongin smirks. “You won’t though,” he challenges, taking a step towards him.
Kyungsoo cocks his head daringly, “what?”
“Call the police,” Jongin shrugs.
“And why wouldn’t I?” Kyungsoo interrogates, brows raising in response.
“Because we’re the same,” Jongin chuckles. “Plus, you would have done it by now.”
“I- I’m nothing like you,” the shorter male sputters. “I’m not a burglar or a thief.”
Jongin leans forward. Ever so boldly, he pulls his mask down so his lips are only a few centimeters away from the other’s. The dark haired male’s ears start to redden, though it still impresses Jongin how well on defense he is.
“Oh yeah?” He makes it a show to look at the man’s lips before meeting his gaze again. “Well, Kyungsoo,” he drawls, making the man’s adam’s apple bounce. “It looks like you’re trying to steal something from me too,” he tells him, taking Kyungsoo’s hand and placing it on the part of Jongin’s chest where his heart is.
Jongin is gone a second before their lips could touch.
He doesn’t believe in the art of stealing hearts or falling in love. His heart may be beating, but that doesn’t mean it feels anything. If someone wants it, the only way possible is if they physically rip it out of his chest.
***
Jongin makes it to D.O.’s Performing Arts Club approximately thirty minutes before his job interview. His head hurts a little because he teleported the longest distance he ever has in one go. It just about took all of his energy to get here after four attempts behind his building. He knows there are no cameras there. His body managed to make it to an alley a block away from the studio building, successfully transporting without external surveillance.
The superhuman is immediately roused coming into D.O.’s, much like the first time he was when he visited. When entering the facility, one must walk into a glass vestibule that leads into a modern looking anteroom with brick walls and dark tiled flooring. The walls are covered with artistic dance shots, and stilled images of kids playing musical instruments or belting into microphones. There are yellow, red, and blue couches aligned against one side of the wall which leads to a girl sitting behind a large, sleek black desk.
When she notices Jongin’s presence, she smiles and greets him. He smiles back politely and strides over to the desk, nervous yet excited for the potential job opportunity.
“Hello, my name is Oh Kai,” he introduces, “I am here for a job interview for the position of a dance instructor. I was contacted by Zhang Yixing? He’s the head instructor of the dance department here right?”
The girl nods her head, looking down at a planner in front of her. Jongin takes a second to look at her name tag and sees that her name is Seungwan. “You’ve arrived quite early, Mr. Oh. I’m sure your interviewer will be very pleased, though unfortunately, Yixing cannot interview you today. It’s been a bit stressful lately seeing as we only have one dance instructor at the moment.”
Jongin frowns, “my apologies, but does this mean my interview has to be rescheduled?”
Seungwan shakes her head, “No sir. Sorry if this worries you, but our CEO isn’t busy today, so he will be holding your interview. Please do not be too anxious though. He is very polite and mild mannered.
“Oh no, I am relieved,” Jongin lies, “I’ve been looking forward to this interview, so why not meet my potential boss now?”
The receptionist smiles at him once more, showing off her big white teeth. “One moment, please. Let me call down his intern.” Jongin watches as she picks up the phone at her desk and dials a number before putting it to her ear. He doesn’t pay attention to what she says as he feels his suit start to bunch under his armpits for the millionth time that morning.
He ended up having to dig out his old suit after all. The blonde is slightly exasperated with himself for being so careless and breaking into the wrong house. Not only because he didn’t get the suit, but he humiliated himself in front of another superhuman (an undeniably hot one at that) who most likely has a character that is 10 times greater than Jongin ever will be. He’s afraid to admit it out loud, but he can’t get the dark haired male off of his mind. The way the man stood so calmly, but confidently in front of the intruder in his home. His thick eyebrows, the sharpness of his jawline, his deep voice, and his voluptuously shaped lips is everything Jongin likes in a man. He also can’t forget the way the other male stood with his shoulders squared, and chin lifted upward so Jongin could see the bulge of his Adam’s apple.
Jongin is yanked from his reverie when a boy who looks to be in his teens, bows in front of him. The boy introduces himself as Doyoung and explains that he’ll be escorting Jongin to his interview. Jongin returns the bow, and proceeds to follow the boy into an elevator that takes them to the fifth floor.
“Right this way, Mr. Oh”, Doyoung guides, steering Jongin around a corner and down a long hallway aligned with offices. Each office has a plaque with a name on the door, and a picture of the person on the wall beside it. Jongin passes Baekhyun’s office, and is pleasantly surprised to see him with naturally dark brown locks neatly combed back in an image of him grinning alongside what seems to be a couple of his students.
They arrive to an open space at the end of the hall which indents to the left. Jongin and Doyoung face two dark-wooden double doors with silver colored handles. Jongin assumes that this is the CEO’s office despite the fact that there is no plaque nor picture. However, he decides against asking why, not wanting to seem nosy.
The superhuman notices a large work desk facing opposite from the doors on the other side of the large space. Doyoung goes to sit at, explaining “D.O. sunbaenim told me to let you walk right in. Good luck with your interview sir. Not to be intervening, but it would be nice to have another dance instructor. Lay hyung has especially been stressed out.”
Jongin figures the intern is talking about Yixing, seeing as his plaque also said “Lay” in parenthesis. He finds Doyoung’s input to be endearing, and realizes that he must be a student here as well. “Thank you,” he smiles at the younger male.
Doyoung nods and smiles, sending Jongin a thumbs up.
When he knocks on one of the large office doors, he’s startled by how familiar the voice on the other side sounds as the person announces that he can come in. The superhuman takes a deep breath and goes inside, gently shutting the door behind him. That same breath gets caught in his throat when he sees the person sitting behind the desk.
Do Kyungsoo.
The said male hasn’t fully acknowledged Jongin’s presence yet as he is currently scribbling something down on a sticky note. He tells Jongin to take a seat.
For once in his life, Jongin is frozen still, contemplating whether or not to walk out of the office. Doyoung’s worry for his dance instructor doesn’t seem so much endearing anymore because Jongin is sure that he can kiss his life goodbye once “D.O.” notices the taller male. Yet, Jongin can’t help but focus on the fact that the CEO is looking extremely delectable in a white button down with a tie around his neck. His suit jacket hangs behind his desk chair, and Jongin sees that it’s the same one he had tried on.
Kyungsoo chuckles, pasting the note on a corner of his desk. “Is there a problem? I know I’m the big bad boss, but I promise I won’t bite…” his words trail off when he looks up, “…you.”
Jongin gulps.
They stare at each other for a good few seconds, though the taller feels like he’s been standing in the room for hours. He contemplates jumping out of the window because he has never felt so embarrassed in his entire life. Yet, he can’t bring himself to remove his sight from the other’s detached gaze.
“No,” the CEO shakes his head, “get out.”
Jongin suddenly becomes bold. “Please! Give me a chance I-,”
“I’m telling you to leave before I call security.”
“I promise I’m not the person you think I am,” he tries again.
Kyungsoo glowers at him, “I don’t even know you.”
“Exactly! Which is why you should give me a chance. You’re not curious as to why I was in your house? Or the fact that we’re similar in gene?”
That seems to be a fair argument to Jongin and he can tell the other male feels the same if it weren’t for the slight sag of his shoulders.
Kyungsoo looks like he’s thinking for a moment. Then he reaches for the phone on his desk, “I’m calling security to escort you out.”
In a second, Jongin is standing in front of Kyungsoo’s desk, his hand catching the shorter male’s to keep him from dialing.
That obviously doesn’t work, seeing as Kyungsoo magnifies literal strength.
“I can teleport out if you do that.” Jongin says, knowing that he sure as hell wouldn’t. “What if you let me leave, and I end up turning you in out of spite?”
Kyungsoo slams his palms on his desk, pushing himself up. The legs of the table squeal. “You wouldn’t.”
He’s right. Jongin wouldn’t.
“Try me.”
The shorter man reaches over and grabs Jongin by the collar, pulling his whole body across the surface of the wood. “How much nerve can a person genuinely have?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed and lips curling up into a snarl.
Jongin smirks. He never thought he was this much of an asshole till now. “A lot, apparently.”
Kyungsoo pulls him by the tie so his chin hits the wood. He seems to distinctly have a knack for handling the teleporter this way. Jongin isn’t shocked by that enlightenment in the slightest, but instead it turns him on.
“So tell me,” Kyungsoo starts. His breath fans over the other male’s face. Jongin is grateful to encounter the fact that Kyungsoo is not only hot, but seemingly hygienic if weren’t for his minty breath and the light scent of cologne mixed with detergent coming from his shirt. Kyungsoo uses his force to push Jongin backwards, who finds himself thrown into a chair facing the desk. It slides backwards with his weight. Jongin wonders if he should be annoyed, or if it is truly insane that he enjoys being treated like a rag doll. “how did you hear about this job opportunity then?”
“One of your instructors.”
Kyungsoo hums. He sits down and folds his hands, resting his chin over his fingers. “Who?”
“Oh, some guy who lives in my building. For some reason, I can’t recall his name,” Jongin says, scratching forehead as if he’s sincerely struggling to remember.
“I don’t know if you also forgot that I could kill you with my bare hands,” the other superhuman replies.
‘Mild-mannered’ my ass, Jongin thinks.
His eyes flit over to Kyungsoo’s undoubtedly strong hands. They’re veiny, and his fingers are long but sinewy. Those hands could kill him in a heartbeat. Jongin would probably let him.
“Byun Baekhyun,” he tells him.
“Ahh Baekhyun,” the other male sighs, leaning back into his chair. He sounds oddly amused. “I’m lowering his pay rate.”
“But-,”
“By the way, I find it funny that you invaded a penthouse not to take money, or a flat screen TV as you so easily could have done. But instead, you came in search for a suit? And I’m assuming for this interview, correct?”
Jongin gives him a look of incredulity and the other man chuckles.
“I found this,” Kyungsoo jabs his thumb toward the suit jacket hanging from his chair, “smelling of Chow Mein, with one cuff unfolded.” Kyungsoo smirks, “I also found an order ticket from that Jian-Mei’s Chinese place, and I haven’t ordered from there recently so it has to be you.”
This time, the look Jongin gives him is presumptuous. Ignoring everything Kyungsoo told him about the scent of his clothing, he says, “So I’m assuming you don’t get many intimate guests then.”
The CEO tuts his tongue a few times and shakes his head, expression amused. He pushes his seat back and stands up, walking around his desk to lean on the front of it. He stares at Jongin for a few seconds, a coy smile playing on his lips.
At this, Jongin immediately refines his countenance, sitting up straighter in his chair. Something about Kyungsoo makes him want to be disrespectful, just so he can be put in his place. The thing is, Jongin has never been easily compliant. He isn’t someone who always feels the need to obey orders because in his mind, things are always bound to go wrong anyhow. Jongin only does what he wants, his way, and if someone doesn’t like it then too bad.
Somehow, he can virtually feel Kyungsoo breaking that barrier. Kyungsoo has his shit together, he gives off the vibe that he knows what he’s doing, and he’s strong. Jongin wants him. He wants him however he will take him.
“Before I make the decision to give you this job, I think you’ll need some training on how to behave and control that mouth of yours.” Kyungsoo crosses his arms, and the sleeves of his button down slightly crease at the forearms. Jongin can feel himself hardening. “How about I give you a little test. If you pass, you get the job.”
Jongin must be in some kind of daze. How did this escalate from Kyungsoo wanting to kick him out of his office, to this?
“Come here,” Kyungsoo says, voice by some means, deepening to another timbre.
Jongin begins to rise from his chair at a pace evidently not quick enough for Kyungsoo.
“Faster. I don’t have all day for this.”
He then finds himself teleporting the few inches between them, landing on his knees in front the other man.
Kyungsoo grins, looking down at Jongin with his hands leaning behind him on his desk. “You seem to be a swift learner. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.”
Jongin blushes at Kyungsoo’s words, though he keeps eye contact with him, hand already rubbing the bulge prodding out from the other man’s slacks. His mind is completely wired to pleasing Kyungsoo at this point, his brain on fast forward.
“Good boy.”
That’s all it takes for Jongin to drag Kyungsoo’s pants down. He reaches up to unbutton the bottom of the other’s top to get it out of the way, and Kyungsoo finishes the job for him. The resulting image is Kyungsoo topless with only his tie around his neck, and his pants around his ankles.
Jongin thinks Kyungsoo’s body is a work of art.
His own body is lithe and toned, though it doesn’t necessarily come with remarkable abs or impressive muscles. Kyungsoo on the other hand, is so much more. His shoulders are a bit wider than Jongin’s own and his biceps are thick. His waist narrows downward, but its studier than Jongin’s in a way that shapes Kyungsoo perfectly.
Jongin pushes up to swipe his tongue under one of Kyungsoo’s oblique’s where his v line starts. The dark haired male is quick to put his hand atop the blonde’s head, pushing him down to be leveled where his erection is, shielded by a pair of briefs. “What did I say about wasting my time?” Kyungsoo growls out, hands tugging into golden locks, “I had confidence you would pass this test Kai-ssi. Do not disappoint me any further.”
Jongin whimpers, his hands reaching up to push his thumb under the other male’s waistband. He mouths against the wet spot staining the front of the underwear before pulling the garment all the way down. The sight in front of him has Jongin’s lips parting, an unconscious movement due the diversion of Kyungsoo’s cock. It hangs so heavily, that it doesn’t touch Kyungsoo’s stomach. Jongin just wants it in his mouth.
The dancer leans closer, steadying one hand on Kyungsoo’s hip while the other reaches for his length, curling his fingers around the shaft. Kyungsoo’s size is impressive, his girth unmistakably wide, and Jongin wants to know how it would feel inside him. He presses a kiss to the tip before sucking gently at the head which causes Kyungsoo to hiss. When Jongin feels the other’s grip tighten in his hair, his own hand tightens around the base, tongue flattening to lick a stripe up the pulsing member before he takes it in his mouth.
Kyungsoo forces himself to keep eye contact with the man on his knees as he sucks him down. His cock is heavy on Jongin’s tongue, and the latter moans, welcoming the sweet taste of Kyungsoo’s pre-cum. Kyungsoo obviously doesn’t neglect his fruit intake.
“You think its proper for me to hire not only a burglar, but a slut?” Kyungsoo grits out under clenched teeth. “As long as that mouth and those hands stays under control I suppose it’s okay, huh?”
Jongin hums in reply, the vibrations sending wonderful sensations through the other’s cock. He has yet to break eye-contact with the other man, studying his hooded gaze for approval as he takes him in deeper.
“Oh fuck, just like that,” Kyungsoo groans, finally allowing himself to throw his head back. Jongin basks in the achievement as he deep throats him, gagging when Kyungsoo starts to buck his hips. The older male looks back down at Jongin, tugging his thumb into Jongin’s bottom lip where his mouth stretches obscenely around his cock. “You might make a promising employee after all,” he breathes.
Jongin does the best he can to nod his head, even though the CEO wasn’t asking a question. His jaw feels sore, but he continues to allow Kyungsoo’s length to meet the back of his throat. Jongin can tell that the other will be coming soon, seeing as his breaths are getting quicker.
Jongin eases a bit, using his hand to work on the rest of Kyungsoo’s cock so he can suck around the head. Soon after, Kyungsoo is coming with a ragged moan, saying, “there you go, take it all,” as Jongin swallows every last drop. He doesn’t let up until Kyungsoo has to push him away from his softening dick, a line of spit following the tip to Jongin’s lips.
Kyungsoo sighs in content, putting himself back together as Jongin stays watching him from his knees. He’s still hard as a rock, and is desperate for some kind of release. At the same time, he’s completely spent, and he wonders if he’ll be able to make it home without collapsing in the street. The other male doesn’t seem to be concerned however, as he maneuvers his way back to the seat behind his desk. As Kyungsoo fixes the cuffs of his sleeves, Jongin notices a mark of discoloration that encircles a part his left wrist. He wonders how he didn’t notice it earlier because though his mind (and mouth) was occupied with other things, the mark is pretty big. Jongin’s about to ask about it when the CEO presses a button on the phone. It rings once, interrupting Jongin’s thoughts before a female’s voice chimes from the speaker. “Good afternoon, Mr. Do.” Jongin recognizes the voice as Seungwan’s.
“I hope your day has been going well, so far.”
The receptionist’s response is immediate, “of course, sir. Thank you for asking. And you?”
Kyungsoo smirks at Jongin, still on the floor with a slight blush painting his cheeks, “My day has been lovely.”
Jongin squirms.
“Is there anything you need?”
The executive asks about the whereabouts of his lunch, to which Seungwan replies that Doyoung is currently picking it up. Satisfied by her answer, he thanks her and hangs up.
Jongin pulls himself up with wobbly knees. “Aren’t you going to help me finish?” He faces Kyungsoo with an actual pout on his lips.
Although secretly amused, Kyungsoo scoffs, “you seriously think you deserve something in return?”
“I just sucked you off,” the taller male frowns.
“For once in your life, things aren’t going your way, huh? You’ll get your pay when you show me some real work. Yixing will email you for further details and instructions, so you’re free to leave,” the older man shoos him, a small smile playing on his lips as he pretends to observe some documents on his desk.
Kyungsoo is evil.
Jongin doesn’t know what’s worse; the fact that he has to go home with a hard on, or the fact that he isn’t sure if Kyungsoo is referring to something that has nothing to do with Jongin teaching teens how to dance.
***
“It is so nice to sit down like this,” Mrs. Oh chirps, setting a bowl of kimchi onto the table. “It’s hard enough to find an excuse for Sehun to eat with us. It’s nice to have you have you here too, Jongin-ah.”
Jongin smiles at the sound of someone using his real name. He knows he’s at home here. He turns to Sehun who is sitting right beside him, and pokes his chopsticks into his rice bowl, successfully stealing a piece of chicken.
“Ya! Keep your hands away from my food,” Sehun whines, clutching his bowl close to his chest. Jongin finds it amazing how Sehun could go from speaking with a bored drawl to sounding like the bratty maknae that he is.
“What’s making you so busy that you can’t eat dinner with your own parents?” Jongin retorts. “Don’t you live here?”
Sehun shovels some rice in his mouth so he can’t reply.
Typical brat.
“He spends all of his time with his new boyfriend now that he’s finally finished with college,” Mr. Oh answers for him, eyeing his son from across the table.
Jongin gives both his aunt and uncle a look of disbelief, then turns back to Sehun and promptly slaps him in the arm. “You never told me you were dating someone.”
Sehun blushes into his rice, “Yeah, about that… I was wondering if I could move in with you?”
“What does that have to do with your boyfriend?”
Mrs. Oh simpers, “Luhan lives in Busan too.”
Jongin raises his eyebrows, “Oh I see. Well, how did you meet this Luhan, Sehun-nie?”
“Don’t call me that,” Sehun grumbles. “And I met him at a dance workshop a few months ago.”
“So you want to move in with me to get closer to your boyfriend,” Jongin deadpans.
The younger cousin smiles sheepishly. “Well it’s not only that, but I’m trying to branch out a bit more and live my life you know? There isn’t much for me to do here anymore, and I can’t live here forever.”
“He’s got a point,” Mr. Oh says, and Jongin chuckles.
“Alright, you can live with me. But of course I have to get the okay from eemo,” Jongin teases, looking over at his aunt who smiles back at him.
“Eomma!” Sehun whines, “I’m going on 22 years old. If you guys haven’t noticed, that’s only a year behind Jongin.”
“Of course you can move in with him,” Jongin’s aunt coos, reaching over the table to wipe a grain of rice out of the corner of Sehun’s upper lip. “You know he was joking, sweetheart.”
“Aish,” Mr. Oh mutters. “From this side of the table he doesn’t look like he’s reached 12 yet. I just beat his skinny ass playing football the other day.”
Everyone laughs, and this is what Jongin loves about coming back home. He loves the way his aunt still goes out of her way to baby him and Sehun. He loves his uncles off handed comments, and the way he still tries to spend time with them when he can. He even appreciates how much of a baby Sehun can be when he’s around his mother, though in the long run, he’s completely more level headed than Jongin himself. That’s what makes this home.
Where every room somehow smells like kimchi to the point where Jongin forgot to notice.
Where he knows someone always has his back when he needs help.
Where growing up, he’s never needed for anything.
But after dinner when they’re all huddled in the living room watching television, is when Jongin forces himself back to his reality. It is when he silently studies how well the other three fit so well without him, that he remembers that he wasn’t meant to fit in this image in the first place. Jongin belongs in another frame that makes sense of his tanned skin and rounded nose. Not here where they’re clearly doing fine the way they were before he came into the picture.
Jongin starts to feel the pressure in his chest again, but he tells himself that its only because eemo likes to cook with spicy seasonings. He realizes he isn’t meant to belong in one place which is why he doesn’t fit in any family frame long enough to begin with. He reminds himself that this is why he rarely tells his family members that he loves them. What’s the point when everyone is going to permanently disperse someday, anyway.
Part 2