Call Me Oppa (8?/)
Title: Call Me Oppa (8/?)
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Length: 4,659w (30,445 total)
Summary: "Some people are just unlucky."
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |
Chapter 7
C H A P T E R 8
Jinki walked home after visiting his father instead of taking the bus. It had been an uneventful visit - the nurses had no updates, and his father was as talkative as ever. Jinki spent an hour sitting in complete silence, too drained to talk. The bus looked crowded, and it wasn't such a long walk that Jinki would rather spend half an hour squeezed between people and their shopping bags. Besides, Jinki rather felt like being alone.
It was getting colder. Jinki wouldn't be surprised if it snowed early this year; the air had a crispness to it, that dry static cold that made his nose raw. Hands in his pockets, Jinki hurried home.
When he got inside, the radio in the kitchen was blasting pop songs. Jinki watched his mother flit from bedroom-to-bathroom, fixing her hair and face, leaving a trail of bobby pins and makeup tubes behind her. She was wearing black pants and a button-up shirt; dressy casual. The kind of outfit that was supposed to look like she wasn't trying too hard.
"Where are you going?" Jinki asked.
His mother startled at his voice, and dropped the compact she'd been using. "Shit," she whispered. The powder had cracked when it hit the floor. "I'm going out late tonight," she said. "Work friends."
Jinki opened his mouth to protest - when was the last time you went to work, anyway?
"Don't say it," his mother warned. "I have every right to go out and have fun sometimes," she said. "You get to see your friends almost every day. Don't make me feel guilty for going out."
"I wasn't," Jinki started, but his mother was already in the next room, blinking at her reflection in the mirror. Jinki turned down the music and put the kettle on. He wanted something hot to hold.
"If you're going out, can I have someone over?" Jinki asked. His mother skated through the kitchen on her socks, tsking at him for putting the kettle on the wrong burner. She shrugged.
"I don't see why not. Don't stay up too late."
Jinki thanked her. He waited until she was in the front room before picking up the phone and calling a number he had already committed to memory since Taemin wrote it on his palm in ballpoint earlier in the week.
"Yoboseyo?"
Jinki silently thanked God or whoever every time it wasn't Taesun who answered the phone. That was a conversation he was hoping to avoid for as long as possible. "Hi, Mrs. Lee. Is Taemin around?"
"Is this Jinki-yah? One moment, please. How are you?"
Jinki made small talk with Taemin's mother until she handed over the phone, and Taemin picked up with a slightly harrassed, "Hi, hyung."
"My mom's going out until late," Jinki said, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant. "You know, if you wanna come over."
Taemin paused before answering. Jinki could practically hear Jonghyun's voice in his head: does he think you mean come over, or come over? Taemin made a humming sound against the receiver, and Jinki could hear him rummaging for something. "Yeah, sure," he said lightly. "Do you want me to ask if I can stay over?"
"Yeah, of course." Jinki had been jerking off to nothing but thoughts of Taemin since they'd met; almost a month and a half of imagining Taemin in various states of undress, sometimes in dresses, always sweaty and panting. He hoped Taemin wanted it as badly as he did. His mother wasn't going to get home until well after midnight, and since the guest room had been converted into an office, there was a legitimate excuse for Jinki and Taemin to sleep doubled up.
More rummaging. Something banged in the background and Taemin cursed under his breath. "Okay, uh, I'll be over in... an hour? I still have to shower and then I can leave."
Jinki tried not to picture Taemin dripping wet, hair plastered to his face, soap suds skimming over his skin. He failed miserably. Swallowing thickly, Jinki managed to croak out, "Uh, yeah. See you then."
Taemin came to the door with his hair still wet, towel-dried and finger-combed. There were wet droplets all around the neckline of his tee shirt, some spackled down his back like tie dye.
"That bus was so crazy," he complained. He pushed past Jinki and kicked off his sneakers. "There was only standing room, and figures, I got squished behind this gigantic fat guy." He held his arms wide to demonstrate how big the guy was, and then wrinkled his nose. "He stank like he bathed in vinegar. It didn't rub off on me, did it?"
Taemin pinched the fabric at his shoulders and lifted his shirt away from his skin for Jinki to smell, but Jinki opted for the better option; he pressed his face into the crook of Taemin's neck and inhaled from there, pretending to snuffle like a dog. Taemin smelled like bar soap and expensive shampoo, the citrus scent overpowered by a heavy ammonia smell like hair dye. Out of curiosity, Jinki stuck his tongue out to taste - kinda salty-sweaty, hint of soap, like how he expected skin to taste. Taemin bent his head, ticklish, his breath stuttering out in short little gasps.
"Ack! Jinki, don't- stop, that tickles!"
Jinki pulled back with a grin. Taemin was flushed.
"Pabo," Taemin muttered. "You're so weird."
"I hope it's a good weird," Jinki said.
"Yeah, it's a good weird. Take me upstairs so I can put my bag in your room."
Jinki nodded and led the way. Somewhere about halfway up the stairs, nerves set in and Jinki realized that he was leading Taemin to his bedroom. While they were home alone. That maybe kinda sorta implied that there might be nudity involved.
Jinki fucking hoped so.
He looked over his shoulder and watched Taemin scanning the hall, his eyes falling on old pictures of Jinki: informal family pictures taken in the park (the same scenery every time, just different hairstyles and outfits to show the passage of time) and studio portraits from when Jinki was a baby. Taemin pointed to one photograph at the top of the stairs - a big-eyed, pudgy baby Jinki grinning crookedly at the camera - and cooed, "Hyung, you were so cute!"
Jinki fought the urge to throw a tantrum. This was not the time for getting derailed by embarrassing baby pictures. In his best sulky voice, Jinki asked, "What, I'm not cute anymore?"
Taemin looked away from the picture, startled, and then realized that Jinki wasn't actually offended (well, not really). With a smile tugging at his lips he said, "No, not at all."
"Ouch." Jinki rubbed his chest, over his heart.
"You're not cute, hyung," Taemin said, covering a laugh with the back of his hand. "You're sexy, but definitely not cute."
Jinki fought the urge to woop in triumph. Cockblock averted! Jinki stuck out his tongue and winked, a terrible mockery of a sexy celebrity, and held the pose until Taemin's sniggering became too much and he had to join in. Jinki was clutching his sides, all nerves forgotten, as he led Taemin into his bedroom.
He had the presence of mind to tidy up before inviting Taemin over, and so the room didn't look nearly as disorganized as it usually did. All of the laundry was in the hamper, and there were no muddy soccer cleats on the carpet. The bed was made, if a little wrinkled from Jinki sitting on it.
Taemin dropped his bag by the door and went over to the bed. He sat down, smoothing the covers with a palm of his hand, and then looked at Jinki, wearing a grin that couldn't be taken as anything other than suggestive. "When does your mother get home?" He asked, all innocence.
"Twelve-ish," Jinki said.
Taemin smiled wider. "So how come you're way over there?"
Jinki's stomach did a rollercoaster roll. He hurried across the room, sidled between Taemin's knees, and bent to kiss him. There was no rush, no worry that someone might catch them; even behind the bleachers, there was still that fear in the back of Jinki's mind that reminded him that they were still in public, and anyone could walk by. It meant a lot of frustrated afternoons. But here, in Jinki's own bedroom, it was private. Jinki took his time to really taste Taemin's mouth, touching tongues, sucking on his lips until they were bright red. Jinki didn't consciously move from standing to lying on top of Taemin, but when he pulled back for air, he realized that he was in an incredibly compromising position. One leg was slotted between Taemin's, pressing against his jeans.
Taemin whispered something.
"Hm?"
"Hyung," Taemin let out an exasperated little huff that Jinki felt as warm air against his cheek, "it's too hot in here."
Jinki chuckled. "Is that a hint?" He grabbed the hem of Taemin's shirt and tugged until it went up and over, exposing so much of Taemin's milky white skin. He was skinny as hell; a dancer's body, wiry rather than muscled. Jinki hurried his hands up Taemin's sides, and couldn't help rolling one of his nipples between his fingers. Taemin arched his hips, body twisting into the touch.
"Hyung, you too." He reached for Jinki's shirt and pulled, his grip too low to be of any use. Jinki sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head. Taemin made a sound in the back of his throat and reached forward, pressing the palm of his hand flat against Jinki's stomach. "You're so..." he started, but Jinki pressed his lips to Taemin's and cut off the rest of that thought.
Jinki was hard as a rock, and every time he moved, his cock was squeezed between his jeans and Taemin's thigh. He could probably come just from rocking back and forth on his heels, feeling that constriction around his cock- but then Taemin started unbuttoning his fly and Jinki realized that coming right now would be an awful waste.
Taemin lifted his hips to pull his jeans down, resting his weight on his heels and shoulders. Jinki was in the way, so he couldn't kick them off completely, but he pushed his jeans down to his thighs and palmed the erection at the front of his briefs.
"No panties today?" Jinki wondered.
Taemin flushed bright red. "I thought... I mean, I didn't know if you- uh, not today, no. Um."
"I liked them," Jinki said honestly. He moved to the end of the bed to give Taemin room to kick off his jeans.
Jinki shimmied out of his pants and tossed them to the floor, and then crawled back to Taemin, lying back on the pillows with his eyes half-lidded. Jinki pressed his lips over Taemin's face, the line of his jaw up to his ear, his forehead, his chin, the tip of his nose. Taemin scrunched his face in mock disgust and whined, "Hyung!"
Jinki laughed, but he gave in and kissed Taemin on the mouth. He had meant it to be a quick peck, mostly chaste, but Taemin wrapped his arms around Jinki's shoulders and pulled him down, parting his lips and tracing Jinki's lower lip with his tongue.
"Taeminnie," Jinki whispered. His breath felt hot between their faces.
"Yeah, hyung?"
"You're really beautiful, you know that?"
Taemin pretended to gag, but his eyes were bright and he was smirking as he sat up on his elbows, pushing Jinki back. "I didn't know you were so cheesy," Taemin teased. "Is this gonna get worse?"
"Probably."
Taemin fell back against the pillows. "Pabo," he sighed, but it was affectionately meant.
Jinki pressed his lips to the heat of Taemin's throat. "I mean it. You are really beautiful."
"Thank you." Taemin's breath caught as Jinki nipped at a ticklish spot near his collarbone. He tilted his head to catch Jinki's lips again. "Why are you so nice to me?" He murmured, but it was probably a rhetorical question - he didn't seem to expect an answer.
In silence, they continued at a slow pace, exploring each other's bodies with hands and mouth. Taemin was bony, all hard angles, but the way he moved was soft and sweet; arching into the slightest touch, his mouth hanging open, taking quiet gulps of breath. His skin jumped when Jinki found a ticklish spot near his hipbones as Jinki skimmed his fingers toward Taemin's belly, and when Jinki ran his fingertips over Taemin's thighs, Taemin sat up fast, pressing his legs together. He was flushed bright red, but smiling, and after a moment, Jinki coaxed him to lie down again, and he resumed his careful touching, mindful to use the palm of his hand instead of his fingers so that it wouldn't tickle so much.
When Jinki settled between Taemin's legs, he didn't do anything for a moment - not frozen by nerves, just taking in the sight of Taemin's chest heaving in anticipation.
Jinki had never slept with a boy before, but he was pretty sure he had the basic idea. He pulled the band of Taemin's briefs down, and Taemin lifted his hips, allowing Jinki to pull them off. There was no hair on Taemin's body at all; not under his arms, not around the base of his cock. He must shave. There were prickles at the bend of his groin, not visible, but Jinki could feel them under his hand.
Taemin palmed his cock before Jinki could get his mouth around it. He didn't stroke it, just cupped his erection in his hand, as though hiding it from view. He lifted his knees and kicked his briefs off, tangling them somewhere in the sheets. "Jinki-hyung," he whispered. "You... you know what to do, right?"
Jinki paused as the meaning sunk in, and then nodded slowly. He'd seen enough porn to know the basics. He needed lube, needed to prepare Taemin slowly with his fingers, maybe with his tongue - Jinki didn't know if he was brave enough to use his tongue down there just yet, although the thought did make his cock twitch. Jinki didn't have actual lubricant in his bedroom, but he had a bottle of hand lotion in the bedside table. He leaned over the edge of the bed and fished it out of the drawer, trying not to blush at the feeling of Taemin's eyes boring into his back. The hand lotion was right next to a box of tissues, and Jinki made a mental note to rearrange that - no one was fooled by the set-up. "Is this okay?" Jinki asked, holding up the bottle.
"Yeah, that's fine." Taemin planted his heels on the bed, curling his tailbone and lifting his hips. He kept his hand over his cock, holding it out of the way. With his legs spread wide, knees up, Jinki had a perfect view of Taemin's hole; it looked puckered and red and tiny. Jinki shuddered just imagining how tight it would be around his cock.
Jinki squirted some of the lotion onto his hand, and brushed his fingers over Taemin's hole. The muslces in Taemin's legs went tense, and he arched his hips, trying to push against Jinki's hand.
Jinki expected much more resistance. He rubbed his finger over Taemin's hole, and then with the slightest change of angle, his finger slipped inside up to the first knuckle with barely any effort. Taemin gasped. His fingers flexed over his cock, but it looked almost painful, applying heavy pressure. "Hyung," he gasped, "you don't have to go that slow."
"But I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. Really. Just..." Taemin braced his heels against the mattress and pushed down with his hips. Jinki kept his hand firm, and let Taemin push until his finger was all the way inside. Taemin's breath caught as Jinki tested a second finger against the tight ring of muscle, and he let out a heavy sigh when Jinki finally pushed it in. "Hyung," he hissed, and there was a note of desperation in his voice. Almost like he was about to cry. "Hyung, please. Stretch me a bit. I wanna feel-"
Taemin broke off into a low moan as Jinki scissored his fingers apart. Taemin's eyes fluttered closed and he whispered a quiet affirmative, reassuring Jinki that he was doing good, oh fuck, so good...
Jinki pressed his nose against Taemin's thigh, resting his head as he worked his fingers slowly in-and-out. He was glad, for once, that there was a streetlight right outside his window; in the fading daylight, the glow from the light cast Taemin's body in orange and deep blue shadow. There was a thin sheen of sweat on Taemin's forehead. His hair was all over the place, made worse every time he thrashed his head against the pillows.
"You okay?" Jinki whispered, and Taemin nodded. He tried to rock harder against Jinki's hand.
"I'm fine. Hyung, hyung, please. I want you to fuck me now."
Jinki slowed his fingers. He hadn't put a third one in yet. He'd used barely a dollop of lotion. In all of the porn he'd watched, there was usually a little bit more preparation than this. Or none at all, but Taemin wasn't a porn star - he needed a little more prep, right?
"Hyung," Taemin insisted.
Jinki sat up, pressing his lips into a line. He supposed Taemin knew his own limits. He'd had some experience with this, or he'd implied as much; Jinki swallowed the jealousy that flared with that thought. He squeezed some more lotion out of the bottle and fisted his cock, giving it a few strokes to spread the lotion evenly over his length. He scooted forward on the bed. Taemin held onto the backs of his knees, almost bent in half, his ass against Jinki's lap.
"You're ready? You sure?"
Taemin nodded. He let go of his cock to grab onto Jinki's shoulders. "I'm fine, hyung. Please."
Jinki positioned himself against Taemin's hole. It was red, squeezed tight, and the white lotion looked obscene as it leaked out of him. With his thumb, Jinki guided the head of his cock over Taemin's hole, and then he angled his hips and - it was so easy - slipped inside.
Jinki had never felt anything so tight. Taemin's eyes were closed, wincing, but his mouth was open, and he took short, anticipatory breaths as Jinki inched further. He was arching his hips, making it easier for Jinki's cock to slide deeper and deeper until his hips met Taemin's thighs. "God, Taemin," Jinki whispered.
Jinki kept still - not because he was afraid he'd hurt Taemin, but because the slightest movement was going to make him come. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Taemin's eye, tasted salt, and then reached down to wrap his fist around Taemin's cock. Taemin was barely half-hard. His breath caught hard in the back of his throat at the touch.
"Wait! Hyung, wait-wait-wait- Don't, ah! Take it out, take it out!"
There was a shriek to Taemin's voice, a note of sheer panic. Jinki pulled back like he'd been electrocuted, gasping, trying to clear his mind from the fog of arousal. What the fuck just happened? "Taemin? Holy... fuck, Taemin, I'm sorry!"
Taemin curled into a ball, hugging his knees. His shoulders heaved and shook, stuttering as he struggled to catch a breath. He kept inhaling, but couldn't let air out; he hiccoughed, chest heaving, gulping for air that wouldn't come. He clutched at a pillow, nails scraping over the cotton. "Can't breathe," he gasped. "Can't breathe!"
Jinki didn't know what to do. He wrapped his arms around Taemin, pressing his face into his chest and rocking back-and-forth, shh-ing and whispering until Taemin slowly started to calm down. Jinki rocked on his side, one arm around Taemin's waist and the other around his shoulders. He whispered anything that came to mind: it's okay, breathe slowly, it's okay, I'm sorry, please calm down, everything's okay...
Taemin's hands were clammy, pressed flat against Jinki's chest. He fought against the embrace at first, every muscle stiffening in fight-or-flight, but then he began to relax. His breathing slowed, and his heart stopped trying to break out of his ribcage. Jinki remembered the symptoms from science class: sweaty hands, fear of death, difficulty breathing, impending doom. A panic attack.
"I'm so sorry," Jinki whispered. He rubbed Taemin's shoulders like he was cold. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours before Taemin's breathing steadied and the shaking died down to a slight tremble. "Taemin-ah, fuck, I didn't mean to hurt you."
Taemin took a shaky breath. His hair tickled Jinki's face as he shook his head. "You didn't. It's just... it's stupid." He mumbled something that Jinki couldn't make out. Some garbled gibberish. "...m'fine, though."
"Is it something you can tell me?"
"I'm embarrassed," Taemin whispered. "Please don't make me say it."
Jinki slid further down the mattress so that he was face-to-face with Taemin. Taemin's face was flushed, eyes puffy. He didn't look Jinki in the eye; instead his gaze darted around Jinki's face, down to his collarbones. When he looked down his eyes seemed to close in an extended blink. It was a little creepy, his eyes opening and closing too slowly to look real. "I'm not going to make you do anything," Jinki sighed. "But yeah, I would like to know what I did."
Taemin groaned in dismay. "It's not... hyung, you didn't do anything."
"Well, whatever it was that I didn't do, can you give me a hint so that I don't not do it again?"
The word play made Taemin smile a little, but he didn't answer.
Jinki looked at the clock. They still had hours before his mother would be home. "Okay, well. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell me now. We can do something else."
Taemin frowned. "That's... okay?"
"Well, yeah." Jinki sat up, untangling his arm from underneath Taemin's shoulder. Taemin resisted for a moment, but relaxed when he realized that Jinki was only grabbing their clothes. "I already told you: I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do."
Taemin grimaced, and he rolled onto his stomach to hide his face. "But I do want to," he mumbled.
Jinki laughed. What else could he do? He needed to lighten the mood before it made him want to cry. No one reacted to sex like that unless there was a pretty good reason, and Taemin didn't seem like the type of person who should have good reasons. "It's okay, pabo," Jinki said gently. He kissed the top of Taemin's head. "We can wait until you're ready. No worries."
Taemin nodded. "Okay, hyung."
"Why don't you pick a movie, and I'll be right back?" Jinki tugged his jeans on and stood up. He tossed Taemin's clothes onto the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," Jinki said. He figured he didn't need to mention what he'd be doing there - he was still half-hard, tucked into the waistband of his jeans; he'd been so close to coming when Taemin freaked, but it was probably bad form to ask for help now. "I'll only be a minute."
Taemin nodded and started pulling his clothes on. "I feel so stupid," he muttered.
Jinki gave Taemin a kiss, tilting his head back with a hand under his chin. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated. "Pick a movie. I'll be right back."
Jinki took longer in the bathroom than he thought. Every time he imagined Taemin slicking up his cock, he saw a flash of Taemin twisting away from him, the sheer panic in his voice as he cried take it out! It had been a while since Jinki felt so dirty after coming; he wasn't usually one for moral dilemmas.
When Jinki returned to the bedroom, Taemin was lying on his stomach with the pillows at the foot of the bed. There was a stack of DVDs on the floor, separated into three piles. Jinki couldn't see the connections between the movies in each stack. One seemed to be mainly action films, but the movie on top was a drama, no action scenes at all. The other two piles were haphazard mixes of comedy and horror, a few foreign films thrown in. "Hey, which did you want to watch?"
Jinki turned around when he didn't get an answer. Taemin had fallen asleep with his head in his arms, breathing slow and steady. His clothes were crooked, and his thumbs poked out of his sleeves through holes that looked like they came from real worrying at the fabric, not made with scissors. One hand was curled around his sleeve in a loose fist. His eyebrows were furrowed, frowning in his sleep.
"Tired, huh?" Jinki asked out loud. He sat down on the floor next to the bed, leaning close to Taemin's face. Taemin looked like he was dreaming, his frown growing deeper and then smoothing out. He mumbled something and shifted around. A lock of hair fell over his eyes.
"How come you're so tired?" Jinki wondered. "You've always got bags under your eyes, but you never say why." Jinki hugged his legs to his chest and rested his chin on the platform his knees made. He watched Taemin's face for a moment, and then reached out to brush the hair out of his face. Taemin startled awake at the contact, sitting up fast on his elbows. "Sorry," Jinki said.
Taemin sighed. His voice was quiet and sleepy. "Will you sleep with me like you did at the party? Just sleep?"
"Yeah, 'course." Jinki crawled up onto the bed and lay down next to Taemin. He'd never slept on his bed with his head at the bottom, and the angle made his room look completely different. It seemed bigger with his head almost in the centre of the room instead of against a wall, like he was the nucleus that the room revolved around. The sun in the centre of a dark universe.
Taemin rubbed his nose against the blanket to itch it. "Hyung," he mumbled, "can you talk until I fall asleep?"
So Jinki talked.
He told Taemin about the dream he'd had about Taesun tracking mud all around the hospital, and how silly it was for him to feel genuinely angry about it - it's not like Taesun actually wore his muddy cleats into the room ("Should I be worried that you dream about my brother?" Taemin piped up, and Jinki shushed him). He told Taemin about his manager at work, and the theories that he thought up with Jonghyun about how the man was part-man, part-slug. Normal human beings don't sweat like that. Impossible. Jinki talked about the night his father had the accident, when his uncle called after midnight and bawled into the receiver, too messy to talk until Jinki heard sirens in the background and snapped, where are you? He didn't hear the word coma until the next day, when Jinki and his mother met Kyeochul in the hospital waiting room. Kyeochul looked a right mess; he'd been bandaged up, and looked like he'd been crying for the better part of eight hours.
"Was your uncle in the car with him?" Taemin wondered.
Jinki sighed, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Yeah, he was driving."
Taemin yawned so wide that his jaw popped. "Bet he feels terrible. Like it's his fault."
"Isn't it?" Jinki asked. Kyeochul was at fault. He shouldn't have been speeding up a residential street. Shouldn't have been arguing with Jinki's father in the passenger seat. Shouldn't have lost control of the car.
"No point blaming people for things like that." Taemin shrugged, and with a weird smile - not happy, not sad - said, "Some people are just unlucky."
back | next
wynnetimate's master list.
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Length: 4,659w (30,445 total)
Summary: "Some people are just unlucky."
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |
Chapter 7
C H A P T E R 8
Jinki walked home after visiting his father instead of taking the bus. It had been an uneventful visit - the nurses had no updates, and his father was as talkative as ever. Jinki spent an hour sitting in complete silence, too drained to talk. The bus looked crowded, and it wasn't such a long walk that Jinki would rather spend half an hour squeezed between people and their shopping bags. Besides, Jinki rather felt like being alone.
It was getting colder. Jinki wouldn't be surprised if it snowed early this year; the air had a crispness to it, that dry static cold that made his nose raw. Hands in his pockets, Jinki hurried home.
When he got inside, the radio in the kitchen was blasting pop songs. Jinki watched his mother flit from bedroom-to-bathroom, fixing her hair and face, leaving a trail of bobby pins and makeup tubes behind her. She was wearing black pants and a button-up shirt; dressy casual. The kind of outfit that was supposed to look like she wasn't trying too hard.
"Where are you going?" Jinki asked.
His mother startled at his voice, and dropped the compact she'd been using. "Shit," she whispered. The powder had cracked when it hit the floor. "I'm going out late tonight," she said. "Work friends."
Jinki opened his mouth to protest - when was the last time you went to work, anyway?
"Don't say it," his mother warned. "I have every right to go out and have fun sometimes," she said. "You get to see your friends almost every day. Don't make me feel guilty for going out."
"I wasn't," Jinki started, but his mother was already in the next room, blinking at her reflection in the mirror. Jinki turned down the music and put the kettle on. He wanted something hot to hold.
"If you're going out, can I have someone over?" Jinki asked. His mother skated through the kitchen on her socks, tsking at him for putting the kettle on the wrong burner. She shrugged.
"I don't see why not. Don't stay up too late."
Jinki thanked her. He waited until she was in the front room before picking up the phone and calling a number he had already committed to memory since Taemin wrote it on his palm in ballpoint earlier in the week.
"Yoboseyo?"
Jinki silently thanked God or whoever every time it wasn't Taesun who answered the phone. That was a conversation he was hoping to avoid for as long as possible. "Hi, Mrs. Lee. Is Taemin around?"
"Is this Jinki-yah? One moment, please. How are you?"
Jinki made small talk with Taemin's mother until she handed over the phone, and Taemin picked up with a slightly harrassed, "Hi, hyung."
"My mom's going out until late," Jinki said, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant. "You know, if you wanna come over."
Taemin paused before answering. Jinki could practically hear Jonghyun's voice in his head: does he think you mean come over, or come over? Taemin made a humming sound against the receiver, and Jinki could hear him rummaging for something. "Yeah, sure," he said lightly. "Do you want me to ask if I can stay over?"
"Yeah, of course." Jinki had been jerking off to nothing but thoughts of Taemin since they'd met; almost a month and a half of imagining Taemin in various states of undress, sometimes in dresses, always sweaty and panting. He hoped Taemin wanted it as badly as he did. His mother wasn't going to get home until well after midnight, and since the guest room had been converted into an office, there was a legitimate excuse for Jinki and Taemin to sleep doubled up.
More rummaging. Something banged in the background and Taemin cursed under his breath. "Okay, uh, I'll be over in... an hour? I still have to shower and then I can leave."
Jinki tried not to picture Taemin dripping wet, hair plastered to his face, soap suds skimming over his skin. He failed miserably. Swallowing thickly, Jinki managed to croak out, "Uh, yeah. See you then."
Taemin came to the door with his hair still wet, towel-dried and finger-combed. There were wet droplets all around the neckline of his tee shirt, some spackled down his back like tie dye.
"That bus was so crazy," he complained. He pushed past Jinki and kicked off his sneakers. "There was only standing room, and figures, I got squished behind this gigantic fat guy." He held his arms wide to demonstrate how big the guy was, and then wrinkled his nose. "He stank like he bathed in vinegar. It didn't rub off on me, did it?"
Taemin pinched the fabric at his shoulders and lifted his shirt away from his skin for Jinki to smell, but Jinki opted for the better option; he pressed his face into the crook of Taemin's neck and inhaled from there, pretending to snuffle like a dog. Taemin smelled like bar soap and expensive shampoo, the citrus scent overpowered by a heavy ammonia smell like hair dye. Out of curiosity, Jinki stuck his tongue out to taste - kinda salty-sweaty, hint of soap, like how he expected skin to taste. Taemin bent his head, ticklish, his breath stuttering out in short little gasps.
"Ack! Jinki, don't- stop, that tickles!"
Jinki pulled back with a grin. Taemin was flushed.
"Pabo," Taemin muttered. "You're so weird."
"I hope it's a good weird," Jinki said.
"Yeah, it's a good weird. Take me upstairs so I can put my bag in your room."
Jinki nodded and led the way. Somewhere about halfway up the stairs, nerves set in and Jinki realized that he was leading Taemin to his bedroom. While they were home alone. That maybe kinda sorta implied that there might be nudity involved.
Jinki fucking hoped so.
He looked over his shoulder and watched Taemin scanning the hall, his eyes falling on old pictures of Jinki: informal family pictures taken in the park (the same scenery every time, just different hairstyles and outfits to show the passage of time) and studio portraits from when Jinki was a baby. Taemin pointed to one photograph at the top of the stairs - a big-eyed, pudgy baby Jinki grinning crookedly at the camera - and cooed, "Hyung, you were so cute!"
Jinki fought the urge to throw a tantrum. This was not the time for getting derailed by embarrassing baby pictures. In his best sulky voice, Jinki asked, "What, I'm not cute anymore?"
Taemin looked away from the picture, startled, and then realized that Jinki wasn't actually offended (well, not really). With a smile tugging at his lips he said, "No, not at all."
"Ouch." Jinki rubbed his chest, over his heart.
"You're not cute, hyung," Taemin said, covering a laugh with the back of his hand. "You're sexy, but definitely not cute."
Jinki fought the urge to woop in triumph. Cockblock averted! Jinki stuck out his tongue and winked, a terrible mockery of a sexy celebrity, and held the pose until Taemin's sniggering became too much and he had to join in. Jinki was clutching his sides, all nerves forgotten, as he led Taemin into his bedroom.
He had the presence of mind to tidy up before inviting Taemin over, and so the room didn't look nearly as disorganized as it usually did. All of the laundry was in the hamper, and there were no muddy soccer cleats on the carpet. The bed was made, if a little wrinkled from Jinki sitting on it.
Taemin dropped his bag by the door and went over to the bed. He sat down, smoothing the covers with a palm of his hand, and then looked at Jinki, wearing a grin that couldn't be taken as anything other than suggestive. "When does your mother get home?" He asked, all innocence.
"Twelve-ish," Jinki said.
Taemin smiled wider. "So how come you're way over there?"
Jinki's stomach did a rollercoaster roll. He hurried across the room, sidled between Taemin's knees, and bent to kiss him. There was no rush, no worry that someone might catch them; even behind the bleachers, there was still that fear in the back of Jinki's mind that reminded him that they were still in public, and anyone could walk by. It meant a lot of frustrated afternoons. But here, in Jinki's own bedroom, it was private. Jinki took his time to really taste Taemin's mouth, touching tongues, sucking on his lips until they were bright red. Jinki didn't consciously move from standing to lying on top of Taemin, but when he pulled back for air, he realized that he was in an incredibly compromising position. One leg was slotted between Taemin's, pressing against his jeans.
Taemin whispered something.
"Hm?"
"Hyung," Taemin let out an exasperated little huff that Jinki felt as warm air against his cheek, "it's too hot in here."
Jinki chuckled. "Is that a hint?" He grabbed the hem of Taemin's shirt and tugged until it went up and over, exposing so much of Taemin's milky white skin. He was skinny as hell; a dancer's body, wiry rather than muscled. Jinki hurried his hands up Taemin's sides, and couldn't help rolling one of his nipples between his fingers. Taemin arched his hips, body twisting into the touch.
"Hyung, you too." He reached for Jinki's shirt and pulled, his grip too low to be of any use. Jinki sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head. Taemin made a sound in the back of his throat and reached forward, pressing the palm of his hand flat against Jinki's stomach. "You're so..." he started, but Jinki pressed his lips to Taemin's and cut off the rest of that thought.
Jinki was hard as a rock, and every time he moved, his cock was squeezed between his jeans and Taemin's thigh. He could probably come just from rocking back and forth on his heels, feeling that constriction around his cock- but then Taemin started unbuttoning his fly and Jinki realized that coming right now would be an awful waste.
Taemin lifted his hips to pull his jeans down, resting his weight on his heels and shoulders. Jinki was in the way, so he couldn't kick them off completely, but he pushed his jeans down to his thighs and palmed the erection at the front of his briefs.
"No panties today?" Jinki wondered.
Taemin flushed bright red. "I thought... I mean, I didn't know if you- uh, not today, no. Um."
"I liked them," Jinki said honestly. He moved to the end of the bed to give Taemin room to kick off his jeans.
Jinki shimmied out of his pants and tossed them to the floor, and then crawled back to Taemin, lying back on the pillows with his eyes half-lidded. Jinki pressed his lips over Taemin's face, the line of his jaw up to his ear, his forehead, his chin, the tip of his nose. Taemin scrunched his face in mock disgust and whined, "Hyung!"
Jinki laughed, but he gave in and kissed Taemin on the mouth. He had meant it to be a quick peck, mostly chaste, but Taemin wrapped his arms around Jinki's shoulders and pulled him down, parting his lips and tracing Jinki's lower lip with his tongue.
"Taeminnie," Jinki whispered. His breath felt hot between their faces.
"Yeah, hyung?"
"You're really beautiful, you know that?"
Taemin pretended to gag, but his eyes were bright and he was smirking as he sat up on his elbows, pushing Jinki back. "I didn't know you were so cheesy," Taemin teased. "Is this gonna get worse?"
"Probably."
Taemin fell back against the pillows. "Pabo," he sighed, but it was affectionately meant.
Jinki pressed his lips to the heat of Taemin's throat. "I mean it. You are really beautiful."
"Thank you." Taemin's breath caught as Jinki nipped at a ticklish spot near his collarbone. He tilted his head to catch Jinki's lips again. "Why are you so nice to me?" He murmured, but it was probably a rhetorical question - he didn't seem to expect an answer.
In silence, they continued at a slow pace, exploring each other's bodies with hands and mouth. Taemin was bony, all hard angles, but the way he moved was soft and sweet; arching into the slightest touch, his mouth hanging open, taking quiet gulps of breath. His skin jumped when Jinki found a ticklish spot near his hipbones as Jinki skimmed his fingers toward Taemin's belly, and when Jinki ran his fingertips over Taemin's thighs, Taemin sat up fast, pressing his legs together. He was flushed bright red, but smiling, and after a moment, Jinki coaxed him to lie down again, and he resumed his careful touching, mindful to use the palm of his hand instead of his fingers so that it wouldn't tickle so much.
When Jinki settled between Taemin's legs, he didn't do anything for a moment - not frozen by nerves, just taking in the sight of Taemin's chest heaving in anticipation.
Jinki had never slept with a boy before, but he was pretty sure he had the basic idea. He pulled the band of Taemin's briefs down, and Taemin lifted his hips, allowing Jinki to pull them off. There was no hair on Taemin's body at all; not under his arms, not around the base of his cock. He must shave. There were prickles at the bend of his groin, not visible, but Jinki could feel them under his hand.
Taemin palmed his cock before Jinki could get his mouth around it. He didn't stroke it, just cupped his erection in his hand, as though hiding it from view. He lifted his knees and kicked his briefs off, tangling them somewhere in the sheets. "Jinki-hyung," he whispered. "You... you know what to do, right?"
Jinki paused as the meaning sunk in, and then nodded slowly. He'd seen enough porn to know the basics. He needed lube, needed to prepare Taemin slowly with his fingers, maybe with his tongue - Jinki didn't know if he was brave enough to use his tongue down there just yet, although the thought did make his cock twitch. Jinki didn't have actual lubricant in his bedroom, but he had a bottle of hand lotion in the bedside table. He leaned over the edge of the bed and fished it out of the drawer, trying not to blush at the feeling of Taemin's eyes boring into his back. The hand lotion was right next to a box of tissues, and Jinki made a mental note to rearrange that - no one was fooled by the set-up. "Is this okay?" Jinki asked, holding up the bottle.
"Yeah, that's fine." Taemin planted his heels on the bed, curling his tailbone and lifting his hips. He kept his hand over his cock, holding it out of the way. With his legs spread wide, knees up, Jinki had a perfect view of Taemin's hole; it looked puckered and red and tiny. Jinki shuddered just imagining how tight it would be around his cock.
Jinki squirted some of the lotion onto his hand, and brushed his fingers over Taemin's hole. The muslces in Taemin's legs went tense, and he arched his hips, trying to push against Jinki's hand.
Jinki expected much more resistance. He rubbed his finger over Taemin's hole, and then with the slightest change of angle, his finger slipped inside up to the first knuckle with barely any effort. Taemin gasped. His fingers flexed over his cock, but it looked almost painful, applying heavy pressure. "Hyung," he gasped, "you don't have to go that slow."
"But I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. Really. Just..." Taemin braced his heels against the mattress and pushed down with his hips. Jinki kept his hand firm, and let Taemin push until his finger was all the way inside. Taemin's breath caught as Jinki tested a second finger against the tight ring of muscle, and he let out a heavy sigh when Jinki finally pushed it in. "Hyung," he hissed, and there was a note of desperation in his voice. Almost like he was about to cry. "Hyung, please. Stretch me a bit. I wanna feel-"
Taemin broke off into a low moan as Jinki scissored his fingers apart. Taemin's eyes fluttered closed and he whispered a quiet affirmative, reassuring Jinki that he was doing good, oh fuck, so good...
Jinki pressed his nose against Taemin's thigh, resting his head as he worked his fingers slowly in-and-out. He was glad, for once, that there was a streetlight right outside his window; in the fading daylight, the glow from the light cast Taemin's body in orange and deep blue shadow. There was a thin sheen of sweat on Taemin's forehead. His hair was all over the place, made worse every time he thrashed his head against the pillows.
"You okay?" Jinki whispered, and Taemin nodded. He tried to rock harder against Jinki's hand.
"I'm fine. Hyung, hyung, please. I want you to fuck me now."
Jinki slowed his fingers. He hadn't put a third one in yet. He'd used barely a dollop of lotion. In all of the porn he'd watched, there was usually a little bit more preparation than this. Or none at all, but Taemin wasn't a porn star - he needed a little more prep, right?
"Hyung," Taemin insisted.
Jinki sat up, pressing his lips into a line. He supposed Taemin knew his own limits. He'd had some experience with this, or he'd implied as much; Jinki swallowed the jealousy that flared with that thought. He squeezed some more lotion out of the bottle and fisted his cock, giving it a few strokes to spread the lotion evenly over his length. He scooted forward on the bed. Taemin held onto the backs of his knees, almost bent in half, his ass against Jinki's lap.
"You're ready? You sure?"
Taemin nodded. He let go of his cock to grab onto Jinki's shoulders. "I'm fine, hyung. Please."
Jinki positioned himself against Taemin's hole. It was red, squeezed tight, and the white lotion looked obscene as it leaked out of him. With his thumb, Jinki guided the head of his cock over Taemin's hole, and then he angled his hips and - it was so easy - slipped inside.
Jinki had never felt anything so tight. Taemin's eyes were closed, wincing, but his mouth was open, and he took short, anticipatory breaths as Jinki inched further. He was arching his hips, making it easier for Jinki's cock to slide deeper and deeper until his hips met Taemin's thighs. "God, Taemin," Jinki whispered.
Jinki kept still - not because he was afraid he'd hurt Taemin, but because the slightest movement was going to make him come. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Taemin's eye, tasted salt, and then reached down to wrap his fist around Taemin's cock. Taemin was barely half-hard. His breath caught hard in the back of his throat at the touch.
"Wait! Hyung, wait-wait-wait- Don't, ah! Take it out, take it out!"
There was a shriek to Taemin's voice, a note of sheer panic. Jinki pulled back like he'd been electrocuted, gasping, trying to clear his mind from the fog of arousal. What the fuck just happened? "Taemin? Holy... fuck, Taemin, I'm sorry!"
Taemin curled into a ball, hugging his knees. His shoulders heaved and shook, stuttering as he struggled to catch a breath. He kept inhaling, but couldn't let air out; he hiccoughed, chest heaving, gulping for air that wouldn't come. He clutched at a pillow, nails scraping over the cotton. "Can't breathe," he gasped. "Can't breathe!"
Jinki didn't know what to do. He wrapped his arms around Taemin, pressing his face into his chest and rocking back-and-forth, shh-ing and whispering until Taemin slowly started to calm down. Jinki rocked on his side, one arm around Taemin's waist and the other around his shoulders. He whispered anything that came to mind: it's okay, breathe slowly, it's okay, I'm sorry, please calm down, everything's okay...
Taemin's hands were clammy, pressed flat against Jinki's chest. He fought against the embrace at first, every muscle stiffening in fight-or-flight, but then he began to relax. His breathing slowed, and his heart stopped trying to break out of his ribcage. Jinki remembered the symptoms from science class: sweaty hands, fear of death, difficulty breathing, impending doom. A panic attack.
"I'm so sorry," Jinki whispered. He rubbed Taemin's shoulders like he was cold. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours before Taemin's breathing steadied and the shaking died down to a slight tremble. "Taemin-ah, fuck, I didn't mean to hurt you."
Taemin took a shaky breath. His hair tickled Jinki's face as he shook his head. "You didn't. It's just... it's stupid." He mumbled something that Jinki couldn't make out. Some garbled gibberish. "...m'fine, though."
"Is it something you can tell me?"
"I'm embarrassed," Taemin whispered. "Please don't make me say it."
Jinki slid further down the mattress so that he was face-to-face with Taemin. Taemin's face was flushed, eyes puffy. He didn't look Jinki in the eye; instead his gaze darted around Jinki's face, down to his collarbones. When he looked down his eyes seemed to close in an extended blink. It was a little creepy, his eyes opening and closing too slowly to look real. "I'm not going to make you do anything," Jinki sighed. "But yeah, I would like to know what I did."
Taemin groaned in dismay. "It's not... hyung, you didn't do anything."
"Well, whatever it was that I didn't do, can you give me a hint so that I don't not do it again?"
The word play made Taemin smile a little, but he didn't answer.
Jinki looked at the clock. They still had hours before his mother would be home. "Okay, well. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell me now. We can do something else."
Taemin frowned. "That's... okay?"
"Well, yeah." Jinki sat up, untangling his arm from underneath Taemin's shoulder. Taemin resisted for a moment, but relaxed when he realized that Jinki was only grabbing their clothes. "I already told you: I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do."
Taemin grimaced, and he rolled onto his stomach to hide his face. "But I do want to," he mumbled.
Jinki laughed. What else could he do? He needed to lighten the mood before it made him want to cry. No one reacted to sex like that unless there was a pretty good reason, and Taemin didn't seem like the type of person who should have good reasons. "It's okay, pabo," Jinki said gently. He kissed the top of Taemin's head. "We can wait until you're ready. No worries."
Taemin nodded. "Okay, hyung."
"Why don't you pick a movie, and I'll be right back?" Jinki tugged his jeans on and stood up. He tossed Taemin's clothes onto the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," Jinki said. He figured he didn't need to mention what he'd be doing there - he was still half-hard, tucked into the waistband of his jeans; he'd been so close to coming when Taemin freaked, but it was probably bad form to ask for help now. "I'll only be a minute."
Taemin nodded and started pulling his clothes on. "I feel so stupid," he muttered.
Jinki gave Taemin a kiss, tilting his head back with a hand under his chin. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated. "Pick a movie. I'll be right back."
Jinki took longer in the bathroom than he thought. Every time he imagined Taemin slicking up his cock, he saw a flash of Taemin twisting away from him, the sheer panic in his voice as he cried take it out! It had been a while since Jinki felt so dirty after coming; he wasn't usually one for moral dilemmas.
When Jinki returned to the bedroom, Taemin was lying on his stomach with the pillows at the foot of the bed. There was a stack of DVDs on the floor, separated into three piles. Jinki couldn't see the connections between the movies in each stack. One seemed to be mainly action films, but the movie on top was a drama, no action scenes at all. The other two piles were haphazard mixes of comedy and horror, a few foreign films thrown in. "Hey, which did you want to watch?"
Jinki turned around when he didn't get an answer. Taemin had fallen asleep with his head in his arms, breathing slow and steady. His clothes were crooked, and his thumbs poked out of his sleeves through holes that looked like they came from real worrying at the fabric, not made with scissors. One hand was curled around his sleeve in a loose fist. His eyebrows were furrowed, frowning in his sleep.
"Tired, huh?" Jinki asked out loud. He sat down on the floor next to the bed, leaning close to Taemin's face. Taemin looked like he was dreaming, his frown growing deeper and then smoothing out. He mumbled something and shifted around. A lock of hair fell over his eyes.
"How come you're so tired?" Jinki wondered. "You've always got bags under your eyes, but you never say why." Jinki hugged his legs to his chest and rested his chin on the platform his knees made. He watched Taemin's face for a moment, and then reached out to brush the hair out of his face. Taemin startled awake at the contact, sitting up fast on his elbows. "Sorry," Jinki said.
Taemin sighed. His voice was quiet and sleepy. "Will you sleep with me like you did at the party? Just sleep?"
"Yeah, 'course." Jinki crawled up onto the bed and lay down next to Taemin. He'd never slept on his bed with his head at the bottom, and the angle made his room look completely different. It seemed bigger with his head almost in the centre of the room instead of against a wall, like he was the nucleus that the room revolved around. The sun in the centre of a dark universe.
Taemin rubbed his nose against the blanket to itch it. "Hyung," he mumbled, "can you talk until I fall asleep?"
So Jinki talked.
He told Taemin about the dream he'd had about Taesun tracking mud all around the hospital, and how silly it was for him to feel genuinely angry about it - it's not like Taesun actually wore his muddy cleats into the room ("Should I be worried that you dream about my brother?" Taemin piped up, and Jinki shushed him). He told Taemin about his manager at work, and the theories that he thought up with Jonghyun about how the man was part-man, part-slug. Normal human beings don't sweat like that. Impossible. Jinki talked about the night his father had the accident, when his uncle called after midnight and bawled into the receiver, too messy to talk until Jinki heard sirens in the background and snapped, where are you? He didn't hear the word coma until the next day, when Jinki and his mother met Kyeochul in the hospital waiting room. Kyeochul looked a right mess; he'd been bandaged up, and looked like he'd been crying for the better part of eight hours.
"Was your uncle in the car with him?" Taemin wondered.
Jinki sighed, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Yeah, he was driving."
Taemin yawned so wide that his jaw popped. "Bet he feels terrible. Like it's his fault."
"Isn't it?" Jinki asked. Kyeochul was at fault. He shouldn't have been speeding up a residential street. Shouldn't have been arguing with Jinki's father in the passenger seat. Shouldn't have lost control of the car.
"No point blaming people for things like that." Taemin shrugged, and with a weird smile - not happy, not sad - said, "Some people are just unlucky."
back | next
wynnetimate's master list.