it comes unannounced 2/2
Title: it comes unannounced
Author: ajin
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Rating: NC-17 (not too graphic)
Genre: AU, Romance
Word Count: 5,479
Summary: Taemin thinks too much. Jinki may think too little. Their worlds not-so-coincidently collide.
Author's Note of Doom: *shifts in her chair* So I went there *coughs* I told jinkissleen I will make this NC-17. I've tried my hardest to make it all fit. I hope I didn't make it too cheesy :/
If you've managed to read it all, please tell me what you thought. I appreciate ANY feedback even wank
He escaped today. The tight schedule has been taking over his life. Studying. It’s on his mind 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, feels almost like 365 days a year. His grades will benefit from it tremendously. He’s not so sure about his brain. System of twisted, tight mass of grey cells. If he listens attentively enough, he can hear it moving. Like a clock. Ticking. Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack. It’s rusty. Overwhelmed and breaking. Tick. Tack. Tick...
Hence, he escapes.
There’s a plan involved to make Jinki understand. Jinki’s the guard of what’s right and proper. Taking a day off is certainly not in the codex. The plan is essential. It goes more or less like this:
-faking stomach ache day before, checked
-acting tired, checked
-complaining to his mum, checked
-waking up late, checked
-not being able to eat the breakfast, checked
-making mum text Jinki, checked
It’s a huge success.
He sneaks out of the house once everyone has left. Mp3 player in hand. He navigates the streets so well. Innate GPS. Crossing neighbourhoods. Stopping next to the railway tracks. It’s so silent. Still barely warm. The morning sun is kissing his face. Slowly moving up. The grass is everywhere. A bit wet with dew. Glistening and creating faded rainbows. He smiles.
It’s been hours of moving, making the grass swoon. Firstly careful, slow steps. Touching the ground softly. Like it could break. The music lost in the background. Feeling like a feather and being pushed around by the wind. Calming his senses down. Breathing in the silence. At some point it all speeds up. Throwing him down to touch the ground. He’s emptying himself. A loner in a lonely field full of grass. The rhythm is playing on his spine.
He looks up at the sky. Clear blue with white small sheep floating about. Suddenly it’s so empty. In the way that make his bones freeze and hair stand up. He’s trying to grab at the moment which has evaporated, becoming uncatchable gas.
Jinki’s nestled himself unannounced in Taemin’s life.
“Weren’t you feeling ill just this morning?” Jinki looks up from his books with a frown marring his face. Glasses gradually sliding down.
“I’m all better now?”
“I sense trickery but I’ll let it slide.”
It’s after the lunch break and he’s warming his chair up. Books and notes. Once more. Pencils breaking. Sharpeners disappearing. Rubbers grey and feeling like they’re made of steel. Never-ending cycle. He wants to yawn. Yawn until he can no more and beyond that.
“You’re so great at masking that you’re bored. Do you want to finish for today? We’re done with most of the revision anyway. Ahead of the schedule.”
“You sure?” He can’t deny that he’s surprised.
“No point in losing a whole month in the library, right?”
“Then...let’s get ice-cream!”
“But-”
“No buts. I decide.”
They go to the park. Invade a far-away bench. Taemin’s head in Jinki’s lap. He’s content and sleepy. Imitating a fat cat. Giggles.
“I’ve heard that you sing.”
“How do you know that?”
“Rumours in our uni are aplenty.”
“I haven’t sung properly in ages.” Jinki’s bashful.
“Can you try?”
“What? Now?!”
“Why not? There’s no one around”, he says cunningly. “Just sing whatever you want. What comes into your mind.”
And Jinki sings. Quietly at first but louder and more confident with every passing second. Taemin’s forgotten the world around. He’s trapped by the slight beat that Jinki’s fingers play on the side. Soft, warm voices flowing in and out. Like he’s on a fluffy cloud going to wonderland. Eyes tightly shut. Forcing his muscles to halt. Notes stirring his nerves. Moving everything just so right. Astonished.
When he opens his eyes, Jinki’s looking at him expectantly. He blinks. Out of it. Like he’s been folded but is on the wrong side. Reality crooked.
“Was that you singing properly?”
“Maybe. I guess?”
He’s up. Dizzy and a wee bit scared.
“Taemin, do you...do you, by any chance, dance?” Jinki’s careful. Much more afraid. His voice still sounds like hot chocolate on a cold, snowy night. Taemin’s nerves are tingling, synapses ablaze.
Silence stretches itself from one corner of the park. Covering trees and paths and the space that’s left between their feet. Kicking the leaves out.
“I mean, I...You..Ehmm...The way you looked like you just wanted to stand up and dance?” Jinki’s full of badly hidden desperation. Containing himself. It makes Taemin want to try.
“Maybe I will show you one day...”
Addition to the whirlpool of promises never fulfilled.
He’s been behaving like a good boy the whole week. Library time again. He just can’t. Absolutely can’t. Pencils breaking on the blank sheets. Doodling on the margins. Pressing his eyes shut with his fingertips. He almost takes to massaging his scalp. Words overflowing from between pages. Notes blurred beyond recognition, laughing at him hard.
He hears a sigh. Jinki’s left eyebrow is trying to touch the sky.
“Information overload?”
He laughs bitterly in response.
“Jinki, I think I need a library break.” He barely manages to finish the sentences before Jinki has a semi-heart attack.
“The exams are not even a week away!”
“I need a scenery change, ok?”
“You’re just dumping the sacred library revision time. Totally skipping.”
“Oh my god, it’s not a compulsory class.” He doesn’t even have the energy to argue. He wants out. “I’m still going to revise my ass off. I promise.”
“Doesn’t matter. Ok. Fine. Go.”
“Now if that’s not being bitter...”
“Go before I kick you out.”
Taemin just laughs, dumping everything inside his bag and waving goodbye.
He hunts down café after café. He’s not easily satisfied. Taking Jinki with him would make it much more entertaining but Jinki doesn’t go out during the pre-exam time. It’s pretty obvious why he’s one of the best students. Taemin thinks he may be making it to the top this year too. Mum will be so proud. He knows most of his studypack by heart. If woken up at night, he would be reciting it like the prayers he’s been taught when he was turning 5. Unnecessary knowledge that becomes necessary overnight. It’s rather hilarious how life works. Playing cat and mouse with you. Ambushing one helpless. Finding just the perfect moment in time.
He sees it from across the street. Hidden by tall buildings and behind a row of perfectly trimmed trees. Small but big enough. Unique. Big wooden sign. Old-fashioned windows with a sea of flowers. Cosy looking sofas and bright light. The smell of coffee is strong and overwhelming his senses. Bingo. He goes straight for the very back. Places obscured and empty. Content he sits down.
It’s 2 hours and 120 pages later. It’s slowly becoming dark. Familiar voice. High-pitched. So distinctive but Taemin can’t place it. It rubs at some early memories. Rough images. Half-torn photographs. Then, he sees. He wants to duck under the table but he’s centuries too late. He’s been identified.
“Taemin?”
The hair are colourful and eyes sharp. Cat’s eyes.
“Hi.”
He’s confused on the way back. His phone enriched by one shiny number. His brain by a river of words. He expected hate.
Key’s too grown up for that. Acting like no accident has ever happened. Treating it like a stupid teenager fit which it most likely was. Taemin finally understands. Key’s always told him that being persistent may be a virtue. Hanging onto ridiculous beliefs, not so much. He has to agree that Key was right. He probably was from the very beginning. Holding grudges. Feeling like he’s way beyond all that. Wasting time. Never able to read between the lines. And Key’s been blurting things out like a machine gun.
“You’re in love.” And there’s no question at all. It’s a statement.
He takes to avoiding Jinki because he can’t talk about it. He just can’t. The exams being a few days away are the perfect and valid excuse. It hurts almost physically. The obvious lack of his presence. But it’s not like Taemin agrees. It’s not like he finally knows. It’s hazy with unsaid things and blurred by foreign emotions. He would need a compass to find his way. A life compass, if he could choose. No one makes such.
It goes unnoticed. The good student eaten by the books. Not recognizing light. Forgetting the necessity to sleep.
The exams start.
It’s 3 days before Jinki’s biggest one. His mum calls. Endless complains. Because Jinki’s stressing himself out, overworking any and every hand muscle, eating and not eating, severely lacking sleep. It’s not said but Taemin understands. Jinki needs a distraction to let his brain have even the slightest rest. He’s terrified of volunteering himself. He almost wants to say no but instead he says yes.
Unidentified place. Somewhere far away. Maybe nowhere. He’s standing in the middle (or is it to the right or left?) encircled by the fog. Mass after mass of grey substance. So thin but thick at the same time. He doesn’t feel out of place. It’s where he belongs. Cool breeze and imaginary shadows. Not narrow closets but unknown lands. There’s no sound. The air peaceful more than should be possible. He stretches his hand to touch the fog. It goes straight through, making it seem transparent. Still, it’s enveloping everything. Creating invisible walls. He doesn’t have the will to go beyond it though.
There’s a bit of rustling. Someone’s feet shuffling? He strains his eyes to see. Eyelids up. It feels like his eyeballs may jump up and out. Disturbing. He halts. The skin underneath is somewhat itchy. The vision turns to fluid. Water tears. He presses it all together in order to prevent eventual leaking. Technical descriptions and uncertainty in the air. Is he not supposed to see? It’s oppressing. He’s practically stumbling through the mountains of fog. Isn’t it meant to be all flat? Falling down is not an option. Not for him.
His senses are dulled by the silence filled with concealed sounds. It feels like he’s been walking forever so he stops. Before a wall or walls. And the noise is getting closer, coming towards him as well. A secret meeting place. He can make out a vague figure. No face. Barely the shape. Different than him. Feeling like a foreign presence. It takes minutes but maybe even ages and he sees. He sees so clearly. And he’s terrified. Of his emotions, probable actions.
There’s a staring contest in the making and storms crashing into him. He’s hesitant but yearning. Careful but surprisingly bold. Walking when he’s immobile. Fluttering touches. A sigh. It builds up too quickly. He’s clawing at the strings of time. Tying them just this much tighter, this much quicker. Instead of becoming more real, it’s becoming more like a dream. Sharp angles distorted. Faces under a fog’s film. Light playing tricks and freeing him from the clouds. Leaving unanswered questions and blunt desires on display.
Jinki agrees to come. Anticipation reigning. Anticipation for what? He was sure nothing would make him come. Maybe he’s being missed too? Bizarre words out of his vocabulary. Still, he hopes it’s the case because of dull aches and troubling dreams.
He’s sitting in the kitchen, drumming on the surface of the table. Pads soft then hard. Invisible melodies created on spot to appease the nerves. It’s been days but for Taemin it was endless. He almost expects Jinki to have completely changed. However, he’s going in looking just the same. Hair messier and eyes redder but warm smiles intact.
“Where have you been hiding?”
“Changing scenery just like I said I would.” His voice is cheerful and conceals nothing. “Found a few interesting places I need to show you later.”
Jinki’s looking at him with slight disappointment and he’s quick to add it all involved long, fruitful hours of revision. There’s something he doesn’t recognize in Jinki’s eyes too. They nearly change their colour when he looks like this.
“I’ve missed you”, Jinki utters softly. Hugging him from behind out of sudden. Whispering straight into his ear, head propped on his shoulder.
“Don’t go disappearing on me like this.”
He squeezes Jinki’s interlaced fingers.
“I promise I won’t. Really”, he says with fake confidence, trying to persuade mostly himself.
“Just don’t.”
“I said I won’t.”
“Studying without you has been more stressful, you know.” Jinki sounds somewhat sad.
“You’ve managed perfectly fine before?”
“That’s different. Can’t you be nice?”, he laughs.
“I can but you have to stay away from the books at least for tonight to experience my kindness”, Taemin huffs.
“Your wish is my command.”
So they end up watching a movie. He can’t remember the title or the genre. The plot is a mystery too. The couch in the living room is huge. Enough to accommodate 4 people. They’re probably taking the space just for one. His knee is digging into Jinki’s shin, his hand on Jinki’s arm. Jinki’s tilted his head more to the side so that their hair is touching. And Jinki’s hand lies on his thigh. Burning invisible and coded messages that go straight to his heart. The room is dark. There’s only the screen light. People shouting and running. It must be a horror movie then...He finds it funny. Why would they watch this? But he can’t answer for there is no before in his mind. Every shout makes Jinki’s grip tighten and bite his lip hard, nearly drawing drops of blood. And Taemin’s looking and looking and cannot absolutely stop. Jinki is so mesmerizing. As if he never noticed anything before. How his hair looks so smooth and how it slightly curls at the base of his head. How his eyes create wrinkles in the corners when he smiles. How they become like half-moons. How his nose scrunches when he’s angry. How he furrows his eyebrows when he finds something ridiculous. How he’s gotten thin. How his fingers tap on the surfaces and curl around the hem of his shirt. How close he himself has been moving. Their heads colliding with a loud thump.
Jinki clutches at his forehead, looking like the world is ending and monsters will crawl from under the couch. Taemin just laughs and laughs and can hardly flex his muscles because they hurt so much.
“What was that?”
“I dunno. Gravity must have been off for a moment.”
Jinki’s too much like a magnet. He pulls him without a warning and Taemin feels everything crash. Not like he can say that. Not like he knows what it means. He just moves as if he’s programmed.
“Are you even watching the movie?”
“It’s more entertaining to watch you get scared.”
Jinki grunts something about annoying boys and stupid movies and how books are better and he will go. He switches the TV off.
It’s so late that the room becomes completely immersed by the night. Jinki winces and seems taken aback. Taemin just moves closer and clings more.
“Are you afraid of darkness?”, his tone is mocking. Having fun on Jinki’s account. Fingers beginning a journey somewhere around the hip bones. It makes Jinki almost jump. Taemin thinks he may be losing his mind.
“And what if I am? Stop that.”
But he’s too stubborn and climbing up and up. Jinki’s breath catches just so. He can see his Adam’s apple bob and before he knows it he’s half-straddling Jinki, sitting on his lap.
“Taemin...” and Jinki’s breath is speeding up. Taemin’s getting a kick out of it. Or maybe he’s just high. On lemon juice or the salty crackers. Oblivious to Jinki’s trembling hands. Ignoring the fingers on his belt. Feeling nothing around. Just Jinki and Jinki and more Jinki. Close. Very close. Their lips nearly touch. He silently giggles. Makes the tension skyrocket impossibly fast.
He can make out shapes, contours of Jinki’s face. And Jinki’s clutching at his shirt. He seems torn between too many things all at once. He holds on but pushes back. And Taemin entangles his fingers in Jinki’s hair, renders him immobile. Keeps his eyes wide open while Jinki’s are tightly closed. Grazes his lips for a second. Just a forgotten moment in time. There go the fireworks.
“You should breath now. I’m not going to bite.” He’s laughing once more and patting Jinki’s shoulder. Though he’s rigid inside. Nothing has happened, right?
Jinki is silent for next 10 minutes. Sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. Taemin does everything to make the tension dissipate. To no avail. He escaped to the kitchen under the pretence that they need food. He’s looking in the direction of the living room all the time. Double-checking if Jinki is still alive. It’s too big and messy to fit his mind, his own behaviour. Every muscle and tendon and ligament has its own life. Flexing and moving and dancing. He’s just a trapped observer looking at the events unfold. He’s sure he just took a few steps back in understanding what it is about Jinki... He become a splendid distraction but a possibly fatal one.
“Are you ok?”, he almost stage-whispers.
“I have no idea what goes on in your mind anymore. You’re too bipolar.” but Jinki doesn’t shy away from his touch. “Do you have some people-withdrawal syndrome?”
“Who knows?”
They somehow continue watching the movie. Full of food and invading each other’s personal space. While Jinki seems finally fine, Taemin’s squirming inside. The need is back. To touch. Touch. Touch. Touch. Chanting like an ancient spell in his mind. He draws in a breath after breath. Forcing himself to stay away. Stay away from Jinki just a few centimetres, a nail’s length away. It fascinates him how the skin on his neck looks like, how his collarbones protrude from under the collar of his shirt, the feeling of his elbow when he grips it. Spiralling so fast.
“Is something the matter?”, Jinki asks concerned.
“Nah.”
Back to the movie. Flickering screen. Screen. Then Jinki. The close-up of his mouth. Shiver running up and down his spine. No, the screen. The screen. Just the screen. And shouts. And running. And monsters. And Jinki’s eyes widen because someone’s died and there’s blood. Back to earth. He thinks at least for a few more minutes he’s safe, calming Jinki down.
In the world we live in, if it were just you and me...
He’s stuck in one point. He’s been going so quickly, throwing emotions to the sides. Uncontrollable. He’s getting tired though. So very tired. He has wasted time. Now it seems like he doesn’t know what should be obvious. He could ask Jinki. Describe his emotions, draw mental maps, touch. He’s not courageous enough. Because even if he tells himself he doesn’t comprehend, he thinks he actually does. At least a little. Key’s told him too. In love. Love is like a storm, destroying everything. He doesn’t want it in his life. Still, when Jinki smiles...He’s thorn between staying the same and putting everything in a dive. Since once he gives in, he won’t be able to fight. Fight emotions. Pretend. It seems like Jinki’s above it though because a minute without him is a minute that went to waste. And he’d rather his life wasn’t a desert filled with regrets.
Jinki has been all secret smiles and muffled giggles. Taemin finds it slightly creepy. Jinki’s not usually like this. Especially since it’s still exam time. All the last minute revisions, frantic searches for detailed notes. They’ve been spending so much time together but buried under a pile of books and responsibilities. And Taemin’s rejoicing after each and every exam because Jinki’s a genius and it might have rubbed off on him too. Surprisingly joyful for such a part of the academic year. It will soon end nevertheless. Not that he wants to think about it. End of the year means graduation. And graduation means no Jinki around. Because Taemin thinks Jinki deserves the best and the best means getting out. Becoming independent.
Unsettling dreams. He groans inside. He’s in some dark city. Covered by night. Black, smoky clouds. Sherlock Holmes style. Victorian London maybe? Tall, elegant lamps. Dimmed and not making the streets more visible. The roads are made of stones. Put quite badly together. Black and grey and a glop of ugly white. There are carriages and cloaks and hats and old golden pocket clocks. It fascinates him but he senses something that is just strikingly wrong. Like the fog or the tunnel or...There’s fog too. The unmistakeably British phenomena that exists no more. Thick, thick fog. Walls of deception.
Something splashes. Red. Blood red. Stabbing. Intestines getting away. Out of the concaves. Big and empty eyes. He just looks. Not entirely rooted to the spot. But it gets closer and is breathing on his neck, whispering deadly nothings.
He’s running and stopping. There are corpses everywhere and they pile. They pile, never-ending. Up. But he runs past them and beyond. And he sees the killer. Jack the Ripper inspiration much? He can hear himself laugh. But the laugh is cut off so quickly because it’s familiar and fits like tight jeans and sneakers. Jinki. Jinki. Jinki. Jinki.
He wakes up to yellow walls and rising sun. He thinks he should have been afraid. However, he’s completely not. It felt like any dream. He thinks this one must have been symbolic. Things to come, right? It’s Jinki’s last exam and he promised. Since it’s so hard. He will dance. He will do it for Jinki this time.
Jinki’s nervous. Everything is clearly out of hand from the very beginning. Words are few and far between. Stolen glances and restless fingers.
He came straight from the uni saying how well it went. Taemin saying how he’s oh-so-not surprised. Small talk. Small talk. Taemin becomes tense.
“Will you show me now? Dance for me?”
He thinks it sounds so intimate. Because Jinki’s not asking for him to dance but to dance only for him. And it’ll be like baring himself. Like having emotions written in bold letters across his forehead and then shouted at the top of the lungs. He doesn’t dance for people. He dances for himself. To get the mess out and clean it and categorize. But he will dance for Jinki just this time. For if he never tries, he’ll always be stuck in the same place. Being dead while pretending to be alive.
He puts on the music without thinking. No time or place to over-analyze. It flows naturally like it always does. He halts his thoughts. The sun is out. Full on the sky and brighter than on any past day. Blue, blue sky. And he can notice the wooden floor and the colour of the walls. He could just dance watching the world spin around but today he can’t.
“I don’t know if I can dance for you if I dance to the music I usually do to.” He thinks it may actually be like this. It can’t be personal and well-known for him. It must be for Jinki.
“Should I sing?” and Jinki does before Taemin can reply. Not that he wants to say anything. They’re obsolete. The words.
He lets it sink just a tiny bit. The warm voice is enough to make him move in this particular way. So he does. It feels endless. He melds with the melody and all the tension disappears. It evaporates and blends with the thin air. He can’t even remember what it was like. The moment he starts, he cannot phantom what it means to be afraid. Losing the restraints.
He stops the moment the voice dies out. Everything feels like it happened centuries or eras before. And he must have been inching towards Jinki or Jinki has been moving his way because when he finishes, they are literally a breath away. Jinki looks enlightened and scared and hopeful and happy and sad. How it’s possible is not an urgent question in Taemin’s mind. He’s basically the same. It doesn’t matter what has happened. He got it all sorted out when the song (or was it songs and hours ago?) began.
It’s anything but rushed. Both of them standing in one place. So close but not closing the invisible line. He can feel it though. The breath. Jinki’s breath. Caressing his lips. He takes a step ahead. They finally touch. He’s breathing Jinki’s breath in. Just tiny puffs. Jinki shivers, swallows hard. And it explodes in his mind. The revelation. Fireworks. Stars? Nothing but a fleeting touch. Still, he cannot go back. It’s only forward for him now. So he moves his lips a little and there’s a gasp. Jinki’s eyes are shut and he takes it as a yes and intends not to stop. Although he gets no chance to do anything. Not even to change his mind. He’s pinned to the wall quicker than he can say Jinki’s name. Wind almost knocked out of him. Jinki’s everywhere. Pushing him back and himself forward. Crushing them together. Making their pulses mingle. Kissing him hard. Being like a storm. Just like that violent storm. Swiping him off his feet. Shredding his own silent self. It makes him moan, the sheer realisation that Jinki went crazy because of him. He’s like this only now. Wanting this for as long or maybe longer, even longer, before they even spoke.
Taemin kisses back just as hard. Wanting to feel everything because he’s been holding back and craving. He’s too greedy. Finally able to touch and touch and touch. His fingers clawing at Jinki’s shoulder blades. Moving closer. Licking the seam of Jinki’s lips. And Jinki always lunges first. Twisting their tongues together. So hot. Moving his hands up his thighs surely and fast. Grabbing at everything and anything like Taemin’s a drug. Trying to get them closer even though that’s definitely impossible at this point. And Taemin’s twisting his fingers into Jinki’s hair. Changing the angles rapidly, making their noses bump. It’s imperfect but perfect at the same time. He wants to change nothing. Unless he can change the way they’re apart while being this ridiculously close.
He can feel himself climbing up, up Jinki’s thighs. Unsuccessful and falling down because he cannot focus. No matter how hard he tries. And Jinki pauses just so and puts his hand under Taemin’s legs pushing him up. He wraps his legs around Jinki’s waist like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It’s so completely different, it stops his breath. Catches it in his throat. Gets out as a choked moan. It’s too hot. Hundreds degrees and increasing. His back arching off the wall. Fingers scrambling for purchase. Leaving red, angry marks on Jinki’s arms. For Jinki is moving. Grinding against him. Sucking hungrily at his neck. And it feels so completely right.
He’s sure there’s nothing left of his mind. It can’t be if he’s acting so reckless. Not considering second thoughts. Just giving in and himself out. Even this moment of realisation doesn’t last because Jinki is already at the base of his neck. Marking him in every visible place. His hands sneaking under Taemin’s shirt, creating goose bumps. Turning him into a writhing, moaning mess. Because it’s getting too much.
Just as suddenly Jinki stops, lips still on his neck. Like he’s inhaling him. Like he’s the air. It pulls at Taemin’s heart, at his nerves, at his veins that much harder. Makes his knees give out. Wrapping himself tighter around Jinki. Hiding his face in the other’s neck. He can feel tears forming. He’s so gone. And Jinki cradles his face, lies butterfly kisses all over. Nuzzles his nose in Taemin’s hair. Traces his jaw with the touch barely there. They kiss. This time it’s incredibly slow. Like lazy afternoons, unmade beds and lying on the beach. Lips sliding so gently. Jinki’s behaving like he will break any minute, become shattered glass. And he wishes it would go on forever because right now Jinki is his whole life.
He lets his legs slide down. Standing up and pushing Jinki back. He doesn’t know if it’s a good idea. He thinks he may destroy whatever they have just built. However, he’s still desperate. Crazily desperate for Jinki’s touch. Unless he has it all, he will never be satisfied.
He doesn’t know how they make it to his bed nor does he care. Jinki’s on top of him, kissing him. Like there’s no tomorrow. Like he wants to eat him whole. But he’s impatient. Impossibly impatient for more. So he tugs at Jinki’s shirt, fiddles with the buttons, pops them open. Makes his way into Jinki’s pants. He can feel the eyelashes flutter against his neck. How Jinki sucks in his breath. Shivering. Eyes now tightly shut.
“Taemin...stop.” He doesn’t want to listen. It’s just wasting their time. Still, it’s Jinki so he stops.
He doesn’t like the look in Jinki’s eyes. Suppressed lust. They stay silent, Jinki acting like a deer caught in the headlights. He can almost hear his mind, all the mechanism turning round and round.
“God, just fuck me”, he groans. Because for once he deems sanity unimportant and thinks Jinki should too.
And it works for Jinki’s pushing his shirt up, tracing his hip bones, leaving a trail of hot breath. It shakes his world and puts it upside down. Moving from under Jinki, discarding his own shirt and kicking off his jeans. Flipping them over and going down. And there’s no hesitation because he wants to solely touch.
He’s not in a rush. Trailing his fingers, moving his hand, watching Jinki’s chest heave with each short inhale and shaky exhale. It’s not enough. Never will be enough. What he sees just spurs him on, turns his brain into mush. So he licks and swallows and makes Jinki lose just as much of his mind, if not even more. Jinki looks at him like it’s a dream or an illusion. Like he’s not real. Not that he has much to say now. It’s not even seconds. Time flies on fast-forward leaving the blue sky and clouds behind. Shutting the blinds and locking any open doors. Crawling. Up and down. No static. No humming. Electricity sparking. Blast.
Every move is calculated because he’s on a mission. Wanting other people to disappear from Jinki’s life. At least for this short while. He may be selfish but isn’t it what’s love partially about? So it’s calculated how he licks his fingers. So slow, watching Jinki stare and his hands twist the sheets. Fingers moving towards him while desperately digging into the bed. Groaning out loud when he opens himself. And he’s surprised how well Jinki understands him. Not moving an inch. Forcing himself to be this entirely still. Just letting Taemin go on his ego trips. He’s almost ashamed. For a second he thinks he’s all wrong. Stalling. But Jinki’s up, moving carefully but surely. Pressing them together. More like awkwardly hugging. Whispering some stupid comfort words. Mending him.
So they start anew. Unhurried. Kiss. Jinki’s hands move. Legs entangle. Hip bones click.
“It’s ok.” and he doesn’t even know when he said it but it really is.
He lowers himself and gasps. It’s painful. So different from what it feels like with a girl. When it was hurried. When he just wanted to feel everything for himself. Throwing things behind like an old newspaper. But Jinki’s never like him. Swallowing his every gasp and trying to almost smooth his skin. Being in one place and all around. Impossibly patient. And when he moves it’s still so raw. He can’t help but bite his lip. However, he lets himself be flipped over and go under for once. And it becomes a lot better because Jinki’s trying so much. Barely there at first but quickly building up. Even though the sound of their bodies seems so vulgar, for him it’s perfect, intimate. Like he doesn’t need Jinki to tell him anything for words are just words and actions speak louder. But then Jinki shifts just so and that’s all Taemin can think about. Losing himself in how Jinki feels, how they both feel together. Pure pleasure. His fingers clawing again at whatever they can touch. Urging Jinki to move faster and harder and...Just throwing words left and right. And it all spirals out of control. Him moving up, folding himself into Jinki. Hiding himself in his neck. Kissing every miniscule cell. Emotions clashing behind his eyelids and when has he closed his eyes? Jinki’s moaning. It’s loud and silent at the same time. And all it takes is a jerk of hips. Synchronized. He’s suddenly so sure he’s stolen Jinki’s heart. He might have been going in the wrong directions but he’s more than satisfied with what he has found.
Część 1 |
Author: ajin
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Rating: NC-17 (not too graphic)
Genre: AU, Romance
Word Count: 5,479
Summary: Taemin thinks too much. Jinki may think too little. Their worlds not-so-coincidently collide.
Author's Note of Doom: *shifts in her chair* So I went there *coughs* I told jinkissleen I will make this NC-17. I've tried my hardest to make it all fit. I hope I didn't make it too cheesy :/
If you've managed to read it all, please tell me what you thought. I appreciate ANY feedback even wank
He escaped today. The tight schedule has been taking over his life. Studying. It’s on his mind 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, feels almost like 365 days a year. His grades will benefit from it tremendously. He’s not so sure about his brain. System of twisted, tight mass of grey cells. If he listens attentively enough, he can hear it moving. Like a clock. Ticking. Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack. It’s rusty. Overwhelmed and breaking. Tick. Tack. Tick...
Hence, he escapes.
There’s a plan involved to make Jinki understand. Jinki’s the guard of what’s right and proper. Taking a day off is certainly not in the codex. The plan is essential. It goes more or less like this:
-faking stomach ache day before, checked
-acting tired, checked
-complaining to his mum, checked
-waking up late, checked
-not being able to eat the breakfast, checked
-making mum text Jinki, checked
It’s a huge success.
He sneaks out of the house once everyone has left. Mp3 player in hand. He navigates the streets so well. Innate GPS. Crossing neighbourhoods. Stopping next to the railway tracks. It’s so silent. Still barely warm. The morning sun is kissing his face. Slowly moving up. The grass is everywhere. A bit wet with dew. Glistening and creating faded rainbows. He smiles.
It’s been hours of moving, making the grass swoon. Firstly careful, slow steps. Touching the ground softly. Like it could break. The music lost in the background. Feeling like a feather and being pushed around by the wind. Calming his senses down. Breathing in the silence. At some point it all speeds up. Throwing him down to touch the ground. He’s emptying himself. A loner in a lonely field full of grass. The rhythm is playing on his spine.
He looks up at the sky. Clear blue with white small sheep floating about. Suddenly it’s so empty. In the way that make his bones freeze and hair stand up. He’s trying to grab at the moment which has evaporated, becoming uncatchable gas.
Jinki’s nestled himself unannounced in Taemin’s life.
“Weren’t you feeling ill just this morning?” Jinki looks up from his books with a frown marring his face. Glasses gradually sliding down.
“I’m all better now?”
“I sense trickery but I’ll let it slide.”
It’s after the lunch break and he’s warming his chair up. Books and notes. Once more. Pencils breaking. Sharpeners disappearing. Rubbers grey and feeling like they’re made of steel. Never-ending cycle. He wants to yawn. Yawn until he can no more and beyond that.
“You’re so great at masking that you’re bored. Do you want to finish for today? We’re done with most of the revision anyway. Ahead of the schedule.”
“You sure?” He can’t deny that he’s surprised.
“No point in losing a whole month in the library, right?”
“Then...let’s get ice-cream!”
“But-”
“No buts. I decide.”
They go to the park. Invade a far-away bench. Taemin’s head in Jinki’s lap. He’s content and sleepy. Imitating a fat cat. Giggles.
“I’ve heard that you sing.”
“How do you know that?”
“Rumours in our uni are aplenty.”
“I haven’t sung properly in ages.” Jinki’s bashful.
“Can you try?”
“What? Now?!”
“Why not? There’s no one around”, he says cunningly. “Just sing whatever you want. What comes into your mind.”
And Jinki sings. Quietly at first but louder and more confident with every passing second. Taemin’s forgotten the world around. He’s trapped by the slight beat that Jinki’s fingers play on the side. Soft, warm voices flowing in and out. Like he’s on a fluffy cloud going to wonderland. Eyes tightly shut. Forcing his muscles to halt. Notes stirring his nerves. Moving everything just so right. Astonished.
When he opens his eyes, Jinki’s looking at him expectantly. He blinks. Out of it. Like he’s been folded but is on the wrong side. Reality crooked.
“Was that you singing properly?”
“Maybe. I guess?”
He’s up. Dizzy and a wee bit scared.
“Taemin, do you...do you, by any chance, dance?” Jinki’s careful. Much more afraid. His voice still sounds like hot chocolate on a cold, snowy night. Taemin’s nerves are tingling, synapses ablaze.
Silence stretches itself from one corner of the park. Covering trees and paths and the space that’s left between their feet. Kicking the leaves out.
“I mean, I...You..Ehmm...The way you looked like you just wanted to stand up and dance?” Jinki’s full of badly hidden desperation. Containing himself. It makes Taemin want to try.
“Maybe I will show you one day...”
Addition to the whirlpool of promises never fulfilled.
He’s been behaving like a good boy the whole week. Library time again. He just can’t. Absolutely can’t. Pencils breaking on the blank sheets. Doodling on the margins. Pressing his eyes shut with his fingertips. He almost takes to massaging his scalp. Words overflowing from between pages. Notes blurred beyond recognition, laughing at him hard.
He hears a sigh. Jinki’s left eyebrow is trying to touch the sky.
“Information overload?”
He laughs bitterly in response.
“Jinki, I think I need a library break.” He barely manages to finish the sentences before Jinki has a semi-heart attack.
“The exams are not even a week away!”
“I need a scenery change, ok?”
“You’re just dumping the sacred library revision time. Totally skipping.”
“Oh my god, it’s not a compulsory class.” He doesn’t even have the energy to argue. He wants out. “I’m still going to revise my ass off. I promise.”
“Doesn’t matter. Ok. Fine. Go.”
“Now if that’s not being bitter...”
“Go before I kick you out.”
Taemin just laughs, dumping everything inside his bag and waving goodbye.
He hunts down café after café. He’s not easily satisfied. Taking Jinki with him would make it much more entertaining but Jinki doesn’t go out during the pre-exam time. It’s pretty obvious why he’s one of the best students. Taemin thinks he may be making it to the top this year too. Mum will be so proud. He knows most of his studypack by heart. If woken up at night, he would be reciting it like the prayers he’s been taught when he was turning 5. Unnecessary knowledge that becomes necessary overnight. It’s rather hilarious how life works. Playing cat and mouse with you. Ambushing one helpless. Finding just the perfect moment in time.
He sees it from across the street. Hidden by tall buildings and behind a row of perfectly trimmed trees. Small but big enough. Unique. Big wooden sign. Old-fashioned windows with a sea of flowers. Cosy looking sofas and bright light. The smell of coffee is strong and overwhelming his senses. Bingo. He goes straight for the very back. Places obscured and empty. Content he sits down.
It’s 2 hours and 120 pages later. It’s slowly becoming dark. Familiar voice. High-pitched. So distinctive but Taemin can’t place it. It rubs at some early memories. Rough images. Half-torn photographs. Then, he sees. He wants to duck under the table but he’s centuries too late. He’s been identified.
“Taemin?”
The hair are colourful and eyes sharp. Cat’s eyes.
“Hi.”
He’s confused on the way back. His phone enriched by one shiny number. His brain by a river of words. He expected hate.
Key’s too grown up for that. Acting like no accident has ever happened. Treating it like a stupid teenager fit which it most likely was. Taemin finally understands. Key’s always told him that being persistent may be a virtue. Hanging onto ridiculous beliefs, not so much. He has to agree that Key was right. He probably was from the very beginning. Holding grudges. Feeling like he’s way beyond all that. Wasting time. Never able to read between the lines. And Key’s been blurting things out like a machine gun.
“You’re in love.” And there’s no question at all. It’s a statement.
He takes to avoiding Jinki because he can’t talk about it. He just can’t. The exams being a few days away are the perfect and valid excuse. It hurts almost physically. The obvious lack of his presence. But it’s not like Taemin agrees. It’s not like he finally knows. It’s hazy with unsaid things and blurred by foreign emotions. He would need a compass to find his way. A life compass, if he could choose. No one makes such.
It goes unnoticed. The good student eaten by the books. Not recognizing light. Forgetting the necessity to sleep.
The exams start.
It’s 3 days before Jinki’s biggest one. His mum calls. Endless complains. Because Jinki’s stressing himself out, overworking any and every hand muscle, eating and not eating, severely lacking sleep. It’s not said but Taemin understands. Jinki needs a distraction to let his brain have even the slightest rest. He’s terrified of volunteering himself. He almost wants to say no but instead he says yes.
Unidentified place. Somewhere far away. Maybe nowhere. He’s standing in the middle (or is it to the right or left?) encircled by the fog. Mass after mass of grey substance. So thin but thick at the same time. He doesn’t feel out of place. It’s where he belongs. Cool breeze and imaginary shadows. Not narrow closets but unknown lands. There’s no sound. The air peaceful more than should be possible. He stretches his hand to touch the fog. It goes straight through, making it seem transparent. Still, it’s enveloping everything. Creating invisible walls. He doesn’t have the will to go beyond it though.
There’s a bit of rustling. Someone’s feet shuffling? He strains his eyes to see. Eyelids up. It feels like his eyeballs may jump up and out. Disturbing. He halts. The skin underneath is somewhat itchy. The vision turns to fluid. Water tears. He presses it all together in order to prevent eventual leaking. Technical descriptions and uncertainty in the air. Is he not supposed to see? It’s oppressing. He’s practically stumbling through the mountains of fog. Isn’t it meant to be all flat? Falling down is not an option. Not for him.
His senses are dulled by the silence filled with concealed sounds. It feels like he’s been walking forever so he stops. Before a wall or walls. And the noise is getting closer, coming towards him as well. A secret meeting place. He can make out a vague figure. No face. Barely the shape. Different than him. Feeling like a foreign presence. It takes minutes but maybe even ages and he sees. He sees so clearly. And he’s terrified. Of his emotions, probable actions.
There’s a staring contest in the making and storms crashing into him. He’s hesitant but yearning. Careful but surprisingly bold. Walking when he’s immobile. Fluttering touches. A sigh. It builds up too quickly. He’s clawing at the strings of time. Tying them just this much tighter, this much quicker. Instead of becoming more real, it’s becoming more like a dream. Sharp angles distorted. Faces under a fog’s film. Light playing tricks and freeing him from the clouds. Leaving unanswered questions and blunt desires on display.
Jinki agrees to come. Anticipation reigning. Anticipation for what? He was sure nothing would make him come. Maybe he’s being missed too? Bizarre words out of his vocabulary. Still, he hopes it’s the case because of dull aches and troubling dreams.
He’s sitting in the kitchen, drumming on the surface of the table. Pads soft then hard. Invisible melodies created on spot to appease the nerves. It’s been days but for Taemin it was endless. He almost expects Jinki to have completely changed. However, he’s going in looking just the same. Hair messier and eyes redder but warm smiles intact.
“Where have you been hiding?”
“Changing scenery just like I said I would.” His voice is cheerful and conceals nothing. “Found a few interesting places I need to show you later.”
Jinki’s looking at him with slight disappointment and he’s quick to add it all involved long, fruitful hours of revision. There’s something he doesn’t recognize in Jinki’s eyes too. They nearly change their colour when he looks like this.
“I’ve missed you”, Jinki utters softly. Hugging him from behind out of sudden. Whispering straight into his ear, head propped on his shoulder.
“Don’t go disappearing on me like this.”
He squeezes Jinki’s interlaced fingers.
“I promise I won’t. Really”, he says with fake confidence, trying to persuade mostly himself.
“Just don’t.”
“I said I won’t.”
“Studying without you has been more stressful, you know.” Jinki sounds somewhat sad.
“You’ve managed perfectly fine before?”
“That’s different. Can’t you be nice?”, he laughs.
“I can but you have to stay away from the books at least for tonight to experience my kindness”, Taemin huffs.
“Your wish is my command.”
So they end up watching a movie. He can’t remember the title or the genre. The plot is a mystery too. The couch in the living room is huge. Enough to accommodate 4 people. They’re probably taking the space just for one. His knee is digging into Jinki’s shin, his hand on Jinki’s arm. Jinki’s tilted his head more to the side so that their hair is touching. And Jinki’s hand lies on his thigh. Burning invisible and coded messages that go straight to his heart. The room is dark. There’s only the screen light. People shouting and running. It must be a horror movie then...He finds it funny. Why would they watch this? But he can’t answer for there is no before in his mind. Every shout makes Jinki’s grip tighten and bite his lip hard, nearly drawing drops of blood. And Taemin’s looking and looking and cannot absolutely stop. Jinki is so mesmerizing. As if he never noticed anything before. How his hair looks so smooth and how it slightly curls at the base of his head. How his eyes create wrinkles in the corners when he smiles. How they become like half-moons. How his nose scrunches when he’s angry. How he furrows his eyebrows when he finds something ridiculous. How he’s gotten thin. How his fingers tap on the surfaces and curl around the hem of his shirt. How close he himself has been moving. Their heads colliding with a loud thump.
Jinki clutches at his forehead, looking like the world is ending and monsters will crawl from under the couch. Taemin just laughs and laughs and can hardly flex his muscles because they hurt so much.
“What was that?”
“I dunno. Gravity must have been off for a moment.”
Jinki’s too much like a magnet. He pulls him without a warning and Taemin feels everything crash. Not like he can say that. Not like he knows what it means. He just moves as if he’s programmed.
“Are you even watching the movie?”
“It’s more entertaining to watch you get scared.”
Jinki grunts something about annoying boys and stupid movies and how books are better and he will go. He switches the TV off.
It’s so late that the room becomes completely immersed by the night. Jinki winces and seems taken aback. Taemin just moves closer and clings more.
“Are you afraid of darkness?”, his tone is mocking. Having fun on Jinki’s account. Fingers beginning a journey somewhere around the hip bones. It makes Jinki almost jump. Taemin thinks he may be losing his mind.
“And what if I am? Stop that.”
But he’s too stubborn and climbing up and up. Jinki’s breath catches just so. He can see his Adam’s apple bob and before he knows it he’s half-straddling Jinki, sitting on his lap.
“Taemin...” and Jinki’s breath is speeding up. Taemin’s getting a kick out of it. Or maybe he’s just high. On lemon juice or the salty crackers. Oblivious to Jinki’s trembling hands. Ignoring the fingers on his belt. Feeling nothing around. Just Jinki and Jinki and more Jinki. Close. Very close. Their lips nearly touch. He silently giggles. Makes the tension skyrocket impossibly fast.
He can make out shapes, contours of Jinki’s face. And Jinki’s clutching at his shirt. He seems torn between too many things all at once. He holds on but pushes back. And Taemin entangles his fingers in Jinki’s hair, renders him immobile. Keeps his eyes wide open while Jinki’s are tightly closed. Grazes his lips for a second. Just a forgotten moment in time. There go the fireworks.
“You should breath now. I’m not going to bite.” He’s laughing once more and patting Jinki’s shoulder. Though he’s rigid inside. Nothing has happened, right?
Jinki is silent for next 10 minutes. Sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. Taemin does everything to make the tension dissipate. To no avail. He escaped to the kitchen under the pretence that they need food. He’s looking in the direction of the living room all the time. Double-checking if Jinki is still alive. It’s too big and messy to fit his mind, his own behaviour. Every muscle and tendon and ligament has its own life. Flexing and moving and dancing. He’s just a trapped observer looking at the events unfold. He’s sure he just took a few steps back in understanding what it is about Jinki... He become a splendid distraction but a possibly fatal one.
“Are you ok?”, he almost stage-whispers.
“I have no idea what goes on in your mind anymore. You’re too bipolar.” but Jinki doesn’t shy away from his touch. “Do you have some people-withdrawal syndrome?”
“Who knows?”
They somehow continue watching the movie. Full of food and invading each other’s personal space. While Jinki seems finally fine, Taemin’s squirming inside. The need is back. To touch. Touch. Touch. Touch. Chanting like an ancient spell in his mind. He draws in a breath after breath. Forcing himself to stay away. Stay away from Jinki just a few centimetres, a nail’s length away. It fascinates him how the skin on his neck looks like, how his collarbones protrude from under the collar of his shirt, the feeling of his elbow when he grips it. Spiralling so fast.
“Is something the matter?”, Jinki asks concerned.
“Nah.”
Back to the movie. Flickering screen. Screen. Then Jinki. The close-up of his mouth. Shiver running up and down his spine. No, the screen. The screen. Just the screen. And shouts. And running. And monsters. And Jinki’s eyes widen because someone’s died and there’s blood. Back to earth. He thinks at least for a few more minutes he’s safe, calming Jinki down.
In the world we live in, if it were just you and me...
He’s stuck in one point. He’s been going so quickly, throwing emotions to the sides. Uncontrollable. He’s getting tired though. So very tired. He has wasted time. Now it seems like he doesn’t know what should be obvious. He could ask Jinki. Describe his emotions, draw mental maps, touch. He’s not courageous enough. Because even if he tells himself he doesn’t comprehend, he thinks he actually does. At least a little. Key’s told him too. In love. Love is like a storm, destroying everything. He doesn’t want it in his life. Still, when Jinki smiles...He’s thorn between staying the same and putting everything in a dive. Since once he gives in, he won’t be able to fight. Fight emotions. Pretend. It seems like Jinki’s above it though because a minute without him is a minute that went to waste. And he’d rather his life wasn’t a desert filled with regrets.
Jinki has been all secret smiles and muffled giggles. Taemin finds it slightly creepy. Jinki’s not usually like this. Especially since it’s still exam time. All the last minute revisions, frantic searches for detailed notes. They’ve been spending so much time together but buried under a pile of books and responsibilities. And Taemin’s rejoicing after each and every exam because Jinki’s a genius and it might have rubbed off on him too. Surprisingly joyful for such a part of the academic year. It will soon end nevertheless. Not that he wants to think about it. End of the year means graduation. And graduation means no Jinki around. Because Taemin thinks Jinki deserves the best and the best means getting out. Becoming independent.
Unsettling dreams. He groans inside. He’s in some dark city. Covered by night. Black, smoky clouds. Sherlock Holmes style. Victorian London maybe? Tall, elegant lamps. Dimmed and not making the streets more visible. The roads are made of stones. Put quite badly together. Black and grey and a glop of ugly white. There are carriages and cloaks and hats and old golden pocket clocks. It fascinates him but he senses something that is just strikingly wrong. Like the fog or the tunnel or...There’s fog too. The unmistakeably British phenomena that exists no more. Thick, thick fog. Walls of deception.
Something splashes. Red. Blood red. Stabbing. Intestines getting away. Out of the concaves. Big and empty eyes. He just looks. Not entirely rooted to the spot. But it gets closer and is breathing on his neck, whispering deadly nothings.
He’s running and stopping. There are corpses everywhere and they pile. They pile, never-ending. Up. But he runs past them and beyond. And he sees the killer. Jack the Ripper inspiration much? He can hear himself laugh. But the laugh is cut off so quickly because it’s familiar and fits like tight jeans and sneakers. Jinki. Jinki. Jinki. Jinki.
He wakes up to yellow walls and rising sun. He thinks he should have been afraid. However, he’s completely not. It felt like any dream. He thinks this one must have been symbolic. Things to come, right? It’s Jinki’s last exam and he promised. Since it’s so hard. He will dance. He will do it for Jinki this time.
Jinki’s nervous. Everything is clearly out of hand from the very beginning. Words are few and far between. Stolen glances and restless fingers.
He came straight from the uni saying how well it went. Taemin saying how he’s oh-so-not surprised. Small talk. Small talk. Taemin becomes tense.
“Will you show me now? Dance for me?”
He thinks it sounds so intimate. Because Jinki’s not asking for him to dance but to dance only for him. And it’ll be like baring himself. Like having emotions written in bold letters across his forehead and then shouted at the top of the lungs. He doesn’t dance for people. He dances for himself. To get the mess out and clean it and categorize. But he will dance for Jinki just this time. For if he never tries, he’ll always be stuck in the same place. Being dead while pretending to be alive.
He puts on the music without thinking. No time or place to over-analyze. It flows naturally like it always does. He halts his thoughts. The sun is out. Full on the sky and brighter than on any past day. Blue, blue sky. And he can notice the wooden floor and the colour of the walls. He could just dance watching the world spin around but today he can’t.
“I don’t know if I can dance for you if I dance to the music I usually do to.” He thinks it may actually be like this. It can’t be personal and well-known for him. It must be for Jinki.
“Should I sing?” and Jinki does before Taemin can reply. Not that he wants to say anything. They’re obsolete. The words.
He lets it sink just a tiny bit. The warm voice is enough to make him move in this particular way. So he does. It feels endless. He melds with the melody and all the tension disappears. It evaporates and blends with the thin air. He can’t even remember what it was like. The moment he starts, he cannot phantom what it means to be afraid. Losing the restraints.
He stops the moment the voice dies out. Everything feels like it happened centuries or eras before. And he must have been inching towards Jinki or Jinki has been moving his way because when he finishes, they are literally a breath away. Jinki looks enlightened and scared and hopeful and happy and sad. How it’s possible is not an urgent question in Taemin’s mind. He’s basically the same. It doesn’t matter what has happened. He got it all sorted out when the song (or was it songs and hours ago?) began.
It’s anything but rushed. Both of them standing in one place. So close but not closing the invisible line. He can feel it though. The breath. Jinki’s breath. Caressing his lips. He takes a step ahead. They finally touch. He’s breathing Jinki’s breath in. Just tiny puffs. Jinki shivers, swallows hard. And it explodes in his mind. The revelation. Fireworks. Stars? Nothing but a fleeting touch. Still, he cannot go back. It’s only forward for him now. So he moves his lips a little and there’s a gasp. Jinki’s eyes are shut and he takes it as a yes and intends not to stop. Although he gets no chance to do anything. Not even to change his mind. He’s pinned to the wall quicker than he can say Jinki’s name. Wind almost knocked out of him. Jinki’s everywhere. Pushing him back and himself forward. Crushing them together. Making their pulses mingle. Kissing him hard. Being like a storm. Just like that violent storm. Swiping him off his feet. Shredding his own silent self. It makes him moan, the sheer realisation that Jinki went crazy because of him. He’s like this only now. Wanting this for as long or maybe longer, even longer, before they even spoke.
Taemin kisses back just as hard. Wanting to feel everything because he’s been holding back and craving. He’s too greedy. Finally able to touch and touch and touch. His fingers clawing at Jinki’s shoulder blades. Moving closer. Licking the seam of Jinki’s lips. And Jinki always lunges first. Twisting their tongues together. So hot. Moving his hands up his thighs surely and fast. Grabbing at everything and anything like Taemin’s a drug. Trying to get them closer even though that’s definitely impossible at this point. And Taemin’s twisting his fingers into Jinki’s hair. Changing the angles rapidly, making their noses bump. It’s imperfect but perfect at the same time. He wants to change nothing. Unless he can change the way they’re apart while being this ridiculously close.
He can feel himself climbing up, up Jinki’s thighs. Unsuccessful and falling down because he cannot focus. No matter how hard he tries. And Jinki pauses just so and puts his hand under Taemin’s legs pushing him up. He wraps his legs around Jinki’s waist like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It’s so completely different, it stops his breath. Catches it in his throat. Gets out as a choked moan. It’s too hot. Hundreds degrees and increasing. His back arching off the wall. Fingers scrambling for purchase. Leaving red, angry marks on Jinki’s arms. For Jinki is moving. Grinding against him. Sucking hungrily at his neck. And it feels so completely right.
He’s sure there’s nothing left of his mind. It can’t be if he’s acting so reckless. Not considering second thoughts. Just giving in and himself out. Even this moment of realisation doesn’t last because Jinki is already at the base of his neck. Marking him in every visible place. His hands sneaking under Taemin’s shirt, creating goose bumps. Turning him into a writhing, moaning mess. Because it’s getting too much.
Just as suddenly Jinki stops, lips still on his neck. Like he’s inhaling him. Like he’s the air. It pulls at Taemin’s heart, at his nerves, at his veins that much harder. Makes his knees give out. Wrapping himself tighter around Jinki. Hiding his face in the other’s neck. He can feel tears forming. He’s so gone. And Jinki cradles his face, lies butterfly kisses all over. Nuzzles his nose in Taemin’s hair. Traces his jaw with the touch barely there. They kiss. This time it’s incredibly slow. Like lazy afternoons, unmade beds and lying on the beach. Lips sliding so gently. Jinki’s behaving like he will break any minute, become shattered glass. And he wishes it would go on forever because right now Jinki is his whole life.
He lets his legs slide down. Standing up and pushing Jinki back. He doesn’t know if it’s a good idea. He thinks he may destroy whatever they have just built. However, he’s still desperate. Crazily desperate for Jinki’s touch. Unless he has it all, he will never be satisfied.
He doesn’t know how they make it to his bed nor does he care. Jinki’s on top of him, kissing him. Like there’s no tomorrow. Like he wants to eat him whole. But he’s impatient. Impossibly impatient for more. So he tugs at Jinki’s shirt, fiddles with the buttons, pops them open. Makes his way into Jinki’s pants. He can feel the eyelashes flutter against his neck. How Jinki sucks in his breath. Shivering. Eyes now tightly shut.
“Taemin...stop.” He doesn’t want to listen. It’s just wasting their time. Still, it’s Jinki so he stops.
He doesn’t like the look in Jinki’s eyes. Suppressed lust. They stay silent, Jinki acting like a deer caught in the headlights. He can almost hear his mind, all the mechanism turning round and round.
“God, just fuck me”, he groans. Because for once he deems sanity unimportant and thinks Jinki should too.
And it works for Jinki’s pushing his shirt up, tracing his hip bones, leaving a trail of hot breath. It shakes his world and puts it upside down. Moving from under Jinki, discarding his own shirt and kicking off his jeans. Flipping them over and going down. And there’s no hesitation because he wants to solely touch.
He’s not in a rush. Trailing his fingers, moving his hand, watching Jinki’s chest heave with each short inhale and shaky exhale. It’s not enough. Never will be enough. What he sees just spurs him on, turns his brain into mush. So he licks and swallows and makes Jinki lose just as much of his mind, if not even more. Jinki looks at him like it’s a dream or an illusion. Like he’s not real. Not that he has much to say now. It’s not even seconds. Time flies on fast-forward leaving the blue sky and clouds behind. Shutting the blinds and locking any open doors. Crawling. Up and down. No static. No humming. Electricity sparking. Blast.
Every move is calculated because he’s on a mission. Wanting other people to disappear from Jinki’s life. At least for this short while. He may be selfish but isn’t it what’s love partially about? So it’s calculated how he licks his fingers. So slow, watching Jinki stare and his hands twist the sheets. Fingers moving towards him while desperately digging into the bed. Groaning out loud when he opens himself. And he’s surprised how well Jinki understands him. Not moving an inch. Forcing himself to be this entirely still. Just letting Taemin go on his ego trips. He’s almost ashamed. For a second he thinks he’s all wrong. Stalling. But Jinki’s up, moving carefully but surely. Pressing them together. More like awkwardly hugging. Whispering some stupid comfort words. Mending him.
So they start anew. Unhurried. Kiss. Jinki’s hands move. Legs entangle. Hip bones click.
“It’s ok.” and he doesn’t even know when he said it but it really is.
He lowers himself and gasps. It’s painful. So different from what it feels like with a girl. When it was hurried. When he just wanted to feel everything for himself. Throwing things behind like an old newspaper. But Jinki’s never like him. Swallowing his every gasp and trying to almost smooth his skin. Being in one place and all around. Impossibly patient. And when he moves it’s still so raw. He can’t help but bite his lip. However, he lets himself be flipped over and go under for once. And it becomes a lot better because Jinki’s trying so much. Barely there at first but quickly building up. Even though the sound of their bodies seems so vulgar, for him it’s perfect, intimate. Like he doesn’t need Jinki to tell him anything for words are just words and actions speak louder. But then Jinki shifts just so and that’s all Taemin can think about. Losing himself in how Jinki feels, how they both feel together. Pure pleasure. His fingers clawing again at whatever they can touch. Urging Jinki to move faster and harder and...Just throwing words left and right. And it all spirals out of control. Him moving up, folding himself into Jinki. Hiding himself in his neck. Kissing every miniscule cell. Emotions clashing behind his eyelids and when has he closed his eyes? Jinki’s moaning. It’s loud and silent at the same time. And all it takes is a jerk of hips. Synchronized. He’s suddenly so sure he’s stolen Jinki’s heart. He might have been going in the wrong directions but he’s more than satisfied with what he has found.
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