#66: there’s a universe inside of you (part 2)
jongin doesn’t believe in fate, would prefer not to fool himself with tales of destiny and fortunes and whatnot. but when he gets a glance of taemin sitting primly in front of the vanity mirror in the dressing room, makeup artist dusting his face with a gold and bronze shimmer, something in jongin clicks and for once in a long time, he feels sure.
neon lights and shadows and soft satin all fuse together for the shoot, the clothes a flurry of black and cream. taemin seems to glow as he’s draped over the couch, elbow propped up and head resting in the palm of his hand. his legs are long folded over another, eyes looking downwards at the floor, lashes combed with cobalt. the blue and red lights meld and knit luminosity into his skin, and at that moment jongin regards him as living and breathing art, higher than every piece held in display in every gallery he’s ever been to.
when the shoot ends, it’s unanticipated when taemin’s fingers close around his wrist and tug him into the empty dressing room, locking the door and then kissing him breathless with his back pushed hard against the wall. jongin’s shoulders are rigid with disbelief, eyes wide and blinking as taemin grips the jut of his hips tightly, but he soon relaxes under taemin’s touches, mouth falling open and fingers sliding a path down taemin’s sides.
it’s warm and full of fire and fervour, and jongin tucks and swallows away the whimpers that slide out from taemin’s already pink-smudged lips, saves them in a music box under his pounding heart.
time feels like it's trickling past, honey-like and slow, and taemin presses his mouth more insistently on jongin’s, gasp spilling out as they finally pull apart. jongin wipes the side of his lips with a thumb, pulling back to see pink stained on the pad of his finger.
“sorry,” taemin apologizes, still breathing hard with his hands still placed on jongin’s hips. “it’s just that i’ve been thinking about that time we kissed and i’ve been wanting to kiss you since then, and then you showed up to this shoot, and-”
“it’s okay,” jongin says, short of breath, grin slipping its way onto his face. “i don’t mind at all.”
“okay.” taemin nods, leaning close to rest his forehead against jongin’s and reiterating. “okay.”
the sounds of their harsh breaths and beating hearts fills up the silence between them, jongin’s hands reaching up to slide his thumbs over the apex of taemin’s glimmering cheeks. taemin looks at him, coyness soaking into his smile.
“sorry.” he gently dusts away at jongin’s face with a finger. “i got makeup on your face.”
jongin shakes his head, mirth bubbling in his eyes.
“hey,” jongin stumbles out, “i, uh, i actually like you. a lot.”
taemin hums, a low noise in his throat. “really? well, lucky for you, because i do too.”
jongin laughs. “a bit cheesy, don’t you think?”
“don’t care.”
a few more kisses are shared, jongin chasing the salty sweetness of taemin’s lips.
“does this mean we’re dating now?” taemin questions, hands in jongin’s hair.
“do you want to be?”
jongin can almost see taemin thinking, can hear the cogs turning in his head as he searches for the right words to say, lips pursed, before he finally nods, the corners of his mouth fluttering upwards.
“yeah. why not give it a shot.”
taemin is spontaneous, jongin notes, uninhibited with impulsivity rumbling through him. which is why they’re already on their first date, dancing in and out of the growing crowd in hongdae with their fingers brushing shyly and their footsteps in sync.
they talk and talk and jongin envisions taemin’s words lacing with stardust as he rambles on with breathless enthusiasm, and a voice at the back of jongin’s head resounds, an urge to photograph taemin making his fingers buzz.
jongin slows down his steps and gives in, fishing out his camera from the bag settled over his shoulder. he takes a picture of taemin, his hands shoved in the pockets of his dark jeans, the glowing lights from shops and stalls bleeding onto his face and painting the alluring smile plastered on his lovely mouth.
taemin turns, his lips screwed in confusion, and blinks. jongin melts.
“did you just take a picture of me?”
jongin can only nod as he falls back into step with taemin, resting his camera round his neck.
“any reason why?” jongin swallows at the smile that never seems to fade from taemin’s face.
“you looked beautiful,” jongin muses, “and i like capturing beauty.” jongin can see the flush that splashes red onto taemin’s neck and feels pride bloom in his chest.
“thanks,” taemin mumbles, and then pulls a hand out of his pocket to brush their fingers together, all feather-light, tentatively linking their hands together. “you’re not so bad yourself.”
they share street food as they walk, long and thin sticks in hand and chewing on skewered fish cakes and potato rings, the drone of voices around them filling the space between their unspoken sentences. taemin gets soft-served ice cream after they finish, the flavour a sweet honeycomb. the moon hangs in the indigo sky, wispy streaks of cloud cutting through the white light of the moon, the stars almost indiscernible.
they stand by the curbside as taemin finishes up the ice cream, his face bright like a child’s. jongin laughs lightly when taemin smudges some on the corner of his mouth, and jongin’s thumb instinctively reaches over to wipe it off. taemin’s eyes widen for a moment, plastic spoon still caught between his lips. jongin looks into the brown of taemin’s irises, dark flecks that swim in hazel illuminated by the nearby streetlamps, turning them into a colour vaguely resembling amber.
“isn’t this the part where we make out furiously?” taemin speaks up, words muffled by the spoon. “that always happens in romance novels.”
jongin is stunned for a full five seconds, but the biggest grin soon cracks the surprise on his face and he lets out a chortle, hands flying as he smacks taemin playfully on the arm.
“we might get arrested for public indecency if we do it right here.”
now taemin’s laughing, the plastic spoon falling free from his mouth and thankfully landing into the paper cup of already melting ice cream. his shoulders are shaking with mirth and jongin’s fingers move on their own accord to the camera resting on his chest, hastily snapping a picture.
“stop that,” taemin giggles out, hands lightly pushing at jongin’s shoulder.
“never.” taemin pouts and jongin feels like he could fly if he tried hard enough.
it’s when they’re shuffling back to the subway, sated glows stitched onto their skin, when taemin slips an arm around jongin’s waist and leans a bit closer, standing on the tips of his toes.
“take me home with you.” it’s a low murmur but loud enough to send a shiver stumbling down his spine and switch on the anxiety already simmering in his veins. “please.”
“okay.” jongin’s voice comes out as a whisper as he nods.
they sit together on the train, taemin pressed up against his side snugly, form radiating a comfortable heat, their knees knocking when the train sways on the tracks. jongin traces the jut of taemin’s knuckles for the whole ride.
jongin doesn’t rush, desperation burning like a low flame in his stomach; he’s pliant under taemin’s hands that are roaming over every plane of his body while taemin kisses him against the wood of jongin’s apartment door. while jongin is the placid water of a lake, taemin is a roaring ocean, waves engulfing jongin whole as he hears his blood rushing in his ears.
taemin nips at jongin’s lower lip with gentle teeth, tongue swiping, and it’s searingly hot, spreading to the tips of jongin’s fingers as he places them on taemin’s waist. taemin eventually pulls away with a gasp, and jongin’s lips chase after taemin’s, body leaning forward. taemin chuckles.
“bedroom,” taemin says, the corners of his eyes crinkling when jongin circles his hands around taemin’s wrist and pulls him into the bedroom.
jongin falls on his back onto the sheets, the bed rocking as taemin crawls on and goes to straddle jongin’s lap, legs on either side of jongin’s knees and caging his thighs. their lips join again, taemin’s weight heavy and warm against jongin’s chest, teeth clacking and breaths harsh against skin.
taemin draws out a stuttering breath from jongin when he brings his hips down, a hum of heat blooming and buzzing in the pit of jongin’s stomach. taemin pushes down firmly this time, cutting jongin’s exhale into a sharp huff and his hands trip their way under jongin’s shirt, palms melting warmth into his waist. taemin grinds down slow and hard against jongin, perfect mouth falling open and blunt nails digging into flesh. jongin rolls his hips up, trying to pursue the elusive thrum of heat and relief, sensation frustratingly muted by the thick fabric of denim.
his hands flit to taemin’s sides, fingers dipping into the waistband of taemin’s jeans before dragging his nails up, light on soft skin. jongin relishes in the way taemin’s muscles tense and flutter for just a second, a shuddering laugh resounding.
“don’t do that,” taemin manages out, “it tickles.” jongin gives a cheeky smile.
jongin’s palms travel lower, soon resting on the curve of taemin’s ass and pushing down, adding more exhilarating pressure and friction, guiding taemin’s grinding with a whimper lodged in his throat. jongin observes taemin fall apart on top of him, and thinks of how gorgeous taemin looks like this, eyes shut and teeth sinking into bruised lips. taemin doesn’t make much noise as he rocks against jongin’s thigh, only breathes hard through his nose and slips out quiet exhales soaked with ache.
taemin dips his head down to fit his mouth on jongin’s, tongue gliding over the seam of jongin’s lips and sucking gently and he’s so close in proximity that jongin can feel taemin’s lashes sweeping and quivering against his cheeks. they stay like this for minutes, jongin’s fingertips tracing patterns on taemin’s back and ducking down to lave at his neck and bite blooming red onto the warm expanse.
the pace of taemin’s hips quicken and it lights up the prickling of heat jongin feels crawling tantalizingly slow under his skin, and a sob catches in taemin’s throat, his thighs trembling the slightest through his jeans as the rhythm of his rutting stutters. jongin leads taemin to completion with his hands squeezing taemin’s waist, and jongin finds it hard to breathe when taemin when finally comes, quiet with lips apart in a soundless moan, body trying to curl in on itself, arms circling and hugging jongin’s figure so tightly as if he was afraid to fall. jongin sighs at how stars seem to burst in taemin’s eyes when he opens them, and jongin feels the world sigh with him in unison.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” jongin gasps out, fingers brushing away the blond strands sticking on taemin’s damp forehead and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.
“i know,” taemin whispers, airy laugh leaving him with his chest heaving.
jongin doesn’t notice that he’s still hard and straining in the confines of his jeans, too caught up in holding a beauty so tangible and real in his arms. taemin points it out, pushing off of him with trembling arms, lips curling into a smile. “want help with that?”
jongin shifts his eyes to the dark patch staining the front of taemin’s jeans, and he shakes his head. “it’s alright, i can deal with it myself. you should clean up first.”
taemin raises both his eyebrows, incredulity knitting his expression and the huff that he lets out. “i can always clean up later.”
jongin clears his throat and coughs. “i don’t want to trouble you or anything.”
he flushes when taemin laughs loud and long, head thrown back and baring his neck, displaying the splashes of red marking his skin. jongin swallows.
“you absolute sweetheart.” taemin shakes his head and cups jongin’s face in his hands, thumbs grazing the hinges of jongin’s jaw. taemin kisses him, sweet and firm. “shut up and let me get you off.”
they spend the next five minutes with taemin’s hand shoved down jongin’s underwear, pants discarded and lying somewhere on the floor. jongin swears taemin’s fingers are magic, strokes quick and light yet so firm and toe-curlingly good and making jongin’s hips twitch forward, pulling out a moan from his throat.
it’s almost midnight when they slip into bed - both of them fresh from a shower and jongin having changed the sheets - and taemin immediately curls into jongin and fits himself into his arms, cold nose burying into the crook of jongin’s neck.
“thank you,” taemin murmurs against jongin’s skin, throwing his legs over jongin’s waist.
“for what?”
“for letting me stay here.” taemin sniffs, shuffling just a bit closer. “and for existing. i guess.”
a deep chuckle reverberates from jongin’s chest, and sleep is already pulling down heavy at his eyelids.
“no problem.”
jongin startles awake at three in the morning, turning his head and realizing that the spot beside him is empty and lacking of leftover warmth. jongin doesn’t deny the feeling of disappointment flooding in his chest, lying awake with his gaze on the ceiling. his throat is scratchy and dry, so he hauls himself up and drags himself to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water.
jongin hears the clattering of metal and a dull thud coming from the kitchen, and panic briefly rises up his throat as he halts right outside the doorway to his tiny kitchen, head poking and peering over the entrance. the tightness in his body loosens when he sees taemin propped up on the kitchen counter, legs bare and dangling from the rounded edge. he digs from a small tub of chocolate ice cream jongin forgot he ever had, hand clutching the paper tub tightly, spoon jabbing into the creamy surface.
jongin suppresses an amused laugh, a voice in his head egging him on again. he remembers where he set down his camera and he goes to retrieve it as quietly as possible; when he’s back at the doorway, the camera comes up and the click of the shutter goes off, resonant enough to make taemin jump and lift his eyes up to train them on jongin’s.
“stop taking pictures of me,” taemin whines petulantly, shoving more ice cream into his mouth. jongin gives him a nonchalant shrug and a smile, setting the camera down on a nearby table and stepping in the kitchen.
“who eats ice cream at 3 am?” jongin asks, fitting himself into the space between taemin’s legs, palms resting on the cool surface of the counter.
“i do,” taemin huffs. “and i couldn’t get to sleep.”
taemin is clad only in one of jongin’s oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of his thighs and a sleeve almost slipping off his shoulder. taemin sucks on the spoon in his mouth when jongin’s fingers worm their way under the shirt, dancing up the sides of taemin’s thighs and stopping right at the dip of his waist, bunching up the fabric.
“can i kiss you again?” jongin asks and noses at taemin’s cheek, feeling light on his feet.
taemin doesn’t reply for a moment, feeding himself a last spoon of ice cream before dropping it into the tub and setting it aside. “you don’t have to ask, you know.”
taemin’s fingers are ice-cold on the back of jongin’s neck when he pulls them both closer, mouth frigid when he presses up open-mouthed on jongin’s, tongue tasting sweet and lips even sweeter. jongin sucks lazily on taemin’s lower lip and feels heat radiate from his flushed skin when taemin pulls lightly at his hair, making him whimper, his fingers curling at taemin’s hips, and for a fleeting moment, jongin wonders about how it would feel if he fucked taemin right against the counter, mouth in his the whole time.
“i could kiss you for hours,” jongin breathes out, lips red and a shudder stuttering down his sides when he places more firm kisses on taemin’s swollen mouth.
“then why don’t you?” taemin’s smile is small and kittenish, palms travelling down the broad expanse of his back. jongin drinks him in and dips down to kiss the furl of his lips again, the dryness at the back of his throat forgotten.
taemin was born to be photographed, deserves to have the threads of his beauty captured and weaved with pulchritude and have them all displayed on glossy pages and large billboards. jongin oddly ruminates on whether he’d find a whole galaxy inside of taemin if he picked and pulled apart at the stitches of gold skin, skimming over the stories imprinted on every strand.
taemin comes with jongin sometimes when he feels a sizzle in his veins and his camera is already strapped around his neck, fingers tingling with an itch to stop time with the press of a button. taemin unknowingly models for him (“what, for free?”) with a charm that hangs low in the air, jongin’s camera filled with stills of taemin’s silhouette doused in sunshine while he stands near bright buildings, the brim of the cap fitted snugly on his head casting a shadow across his face.
they would meander through empty alleyways and crowded roads, to the street vendors and old, monolithic buildings, almost always managing to find warmth and allure and breathtaking beauty in every crack and crevice of the walls and voices and small pipes of laughter.
they always take the subway back to jongin’s place, when they’re both content and the camera circled around jongin’s neck is weighing him down. their fingers link when taemin stumbles from the sudden sway of the train, a ghost of a smile playing like a soft tune on his lips. jongin feels himself fall all over again.
jongin’s bag bounces against his hip as he balances on the edge of the pavement, shoes scuffing the rock and almost making him trip. taemin laughs behind him and jongin shoots a pout over his shoulder, despite the smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. taemin’s munching away on a wrapped hotteok clutched in his hand, the faint smell of hot brown sugar wafting.
it’s dark out and they’re both walking home - jongin’s apartment, to be more specific, since taemin has been practically living there for the past two weeks - from a whole afternoon outside, jongin taking his usual pictures, wandering until their heels ached. taemin catches up with jongin, taking the last few bites of his hotteok and running his hand through his hair, ruffling the strands.
taemin’s hair is jet black, having dyed it just yesterday. jongin didn’t think it was possible for his beauty to grow even more, adding in a flare of elegance into the mix. jongin’s been focused on photographing taemin for the whole day, fascinated with the way the light filters through taemin’s dark crown of hair that he didn’t notice that taemin’s snatched the camera out of his hands with a grin bright enough to rival the glare of the sun.
taemin ended up snapping blurry and grainy pictures of trees and shop entrances and of jongin wearing a smile on his face, refusing to give back the camera until after an hour had passed. jongin doesn’t delete the shots.
jongin’s trying to get as much time with taemin as possible, since taemin will be gone tomorrow evening for three whole weeks, going off to tokyo to endorse a clothing brand by being their model. jongin felt a sort of heaviness on his shoulders when taemin told him, but jongin shoved away the disappointment welling up in his throat and simply pulled taemin into a hug.
jongin grabs for taemin’s hand, squeezing gently when they reach the apartment building. taemin’s hands have always been so small and delicate in jongin’s palms, knuckles smooth and fingers running hot.
“i’m gonna miss you. a lot,” jongin speaks, a rueful tugging on his lips. he plants a kiss on the top of taemin’s head, letting the sweet smell of shampoo wash over him and remind him of home.
“you’ll wait for me until i come back, right?” taemin’s voice is quiet yet so sharp and cutting in the air, and he punctuates his words with a smile of his own.
“of course.”
they kiss and kiss and blindingly stumble up to jongin’s apartment, mouths sloppily moving as they try to toe off their shoes, only for taemin to stumble and almost slip to the floor if it hadn’t been for the arm jongin has circled around taemin’s waist. jongin’s giggling against taemin’s mouth, face scrunching up when their teeth clack and noses bump. they stagger all the way to the bedroom, falling onto the sheets - but not before jongin sets down his bag gently on the ground, of course (“do you have any idea how much this camera costs?”) - and letting hands roam everywhere.
“wanna make you feel so good,” jongin murmurs, deep and dripping with a need, breaths a rush in his lungs. his mouth fumbles on taemin’s bared neck, teeth biting and lips coaxing for roses to bloom on the expanse of taemin’s gold skin, laving at the marks to dull the sharp pain when taemin yelps, hands flying to card through jongin’s hair.
jongin’s palms slip under taemin’s shirt and lifts, his head ducking down to kiss at every inch of exposed skin, teasing a trail of goosebumps onto the surface. the shirt is hastily thrown off and jongin’s fingers are sliding down taemin’s sides, mapping out every jut of bone and crisscrossed muscle, thumbing dusky nipples and placing fluttering kisses on the steps of taemin’s ribs, all the while tucking away the mewls erupting from taemin’s mouth into the corner of his memories.
he goes to unzip taemin’s jeans, sliding the rough fabric off of slender limbs and tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor. jongin’s hands carefully dance a path between taemin’s legs, lips latching onto his inner thigh, tongue swirling in circles and leaving wet patches to sink into skin. taemin looks down at jongin through his lashes, teeth digging in his lip; he’s already hard and straining against his underwear, a deep ache pulsing alive and hot in his veins. jongin keeps up his tantalizingly slow pace of mouthing up taemin’s legs, a smirk stitched on his lips when taemin whines.
“jongin-” taemin’s voice wavers as he speaks, fingers curling in the sheets. “touch me. please.”
jongin gladly complies, shifting further up taemin’s figure to kiss him firmly and reaching his hand down to cup the outline of taemin’s cock through the fabric, grinding down the heel of his palm and adoring the way taemin holds in a breath, eyelids fluttering shut.
dark strands fall in taemin’s eyes as he tosses his head to the side, the sheets rustling and the hushed sound of his panting filling up the emptiness of the warm air. jongin soon lifts his hand and taemin frowns at the loss of pressure; but then jongin’s tugging down at the band of taemin’s underwear, gaze trained on his cock as it springs free from the cotton, curving up his stomach and hanging heavy. jongin’s lips part and he wonders how he managed to capture such art and spread it on the crumpled sheets of his bed.
“look in the nightstand,” jongin says, voice hoarse with strain and disuse. taemin does so, scrambling up and fishing out a bottle of lube and a condom from the drawer.
“did you plan this?” taemin asks, a brow rising.
“i might’ve,” jongin responds, smile coquettish. taemin laughs, delicate.
jongin grabs the lube, popping open the cap and slicking up his fingers, settling between taemin’s legs. “hold yourself open for me, won’t you?” jongin requests, tone syrupy and soft. a shudder wracks down the length of taemin’s spine as he fits his arms under his knees and lifts, hugging his legs to his chest. a flush fans over the nape of taemin’s neck and the basin of his collarbones, and jongin’s heart beats sluggish and loud in his bones.
jongin finally slides a frigid and slippery finger in, feeling taemin twitch and gasp when the cold sears into his skin. jongin doesn’t hurry, slipping in another finger and twisting, easing the muscles to give way and loosen, pushing in up to his knuckles. taemin presses back onto jongin’s hand and throws his head back, mouth open and nails digging into the backs of his thighs.
jongin makes taemin break with just his fingers, fucking him in a deliberate rhythm and crooking them in an angle that brings a tingle of heat to taemin’s cheeks and sends fervour pooling in the pit of his belly. jongin’s three fingers in when he brushes torturously close to taemin’s prostate, and a breathy whine rolls off taemin’s tongue, muscles tensing. he pumps in and out, trying hard to ignore the cramp crawling into his hand and settling in sharply, distracting himself by watching the heavy lifts of taemin’s chest as he sucks in air.
“need you in me already,” taemin whimpers, “please.”
jongin pulls his fingers out and watches taemin quaver and clench around nothing, head rolling to the side and letting his legs go, arms weakly hitting the sheets.
“that’s not fair, you’re still dressed,” taemin whines, brows furrowing.
“patience,” jongin replies although he’s not faring well himself, his cock achingly hard and desperate to slip out of the confining space of his jeans. he places a cursory kiss on taemin’s forehead and jumps up, hurriedly shucking off his clothing, and he can’t help the sigh that falls out when he finally tugs out of his underwear, relief flooding down into his bones.
jongin gets back on the bed, grabbing the condom and tearing off the foil with his teeth, sitting up to roll it on. he slicks up the length of his cock, a hiss on the tip of his tongue before he settles on top of taemin again, waist in the middle of taemin’s thighs.
“is this okay?” jongin whispers, hands on taemin’s hips, memorizing the widening of blown pupils. taemin nods, nudging him with his leg.
“hurry up and fuck me already.” jongin chortles, lining himself up and shifting forward, the slide of his cock pushing inside slow and steady, his head hanging between his shoulders and his legs trembling the slightest when he feels tight heat close around him. taemin winds his arms around jongin’s neck, huffing out a sob when jongin finally bottoms out, and he feels so filled to the brim, fire running deep.
jongin’s thrusts are shallow, hips rocking steadily and nails forming angry half-moons on flesh, fingers gripping bone hard enough to bruise. he swoops down to take taemin’s lips like something sweet, sugar melting on his tongue with every lick into taemin’s mouth. taemin’s knees tighten at jongin’s sides, his eyes shutting tightly when the speed picks up, whimpering at every drag of jongin’s cock inside him.
everything burns white-hot when jongin attempts to press in at a better angle, tilting his hips and feeling taemin buck up against him.
“fuck, fuck, jongin, please-” taemin chokes out, lashes quivering and clumped with tears, fingers trembling when jongin grazes over his prostate, drawing out a jolt of satisfaction to come running up his back. jongin wants to meld with the winding paths of taemin’s form and slither in every crack, wants to knit and find a home in every single scar marring perfect skin. taemin is an altar of dark hair and golden skin, and jongin wonders if taemin cries the white wisps of the milky way when he comes, stars threading with his lashes.
“god, you’re so beautiful,” jongin groans, snapping his hips up and trying to bury himself deeper into taemin, the blunt edges of his nails scratching at the curves of taemin’s waist. “so perfect, so good.”
jongin reaches down to curl his fist around taemin’s cock and tugs, and he can almost hear the way taemin grits his teeth as he lifts his hips up, up, up into jongin’s hand, back arching into a perfect bow, chest flushed and heaving against jongin’s.
the words are jumbled stumbling out from taemin’s mouth, breathy variations of jongin’s name making itself familiar on taemin’s tongue. everything starts to twitch when jongin strokes faster, thrusts falling out of rhythm and he can feel himself teetering over the edge, needing more, just a bit more before he can fall.
taemin manages out a choked off warning, the maze of sinew under his skin weaving tight and his thighs jerking, and then he stills, finally spilling white in jongin’s hand and staining both their stomachs, mouth falling open in a soundless moan. it’s devastatingly beautiful, jongin thinks, like watching a star die out.
taemin clamps down around him with a muted sob, pulling out a groan low in jongin’s throat, knees falling apart as jongin rocks into him, pace disoriented and lips latching on every inch of bare skin. taemin quivers with oversensitivity, fingers scrabbling on the broad expanse of jongin’s back, a string of pleas trickling from his mouth.
jongin comes minutes later, the cord wound tight in his gut loosening with a pull, heat pulsing loud and clear in his limbs. he feels as if time is dripping past with measured drops, heart pounding in his chest and up in his throat, down to the soles of his feet. jongin pulls out with a shiver, dragging his body up with effort to throw the condom in the trash, legs wobbling with a pleasant ache planted deep in his bones.
he turns, and maybe he forgets to breathe when his eyes fall on taemin lying serenely, his head facing the opposite side with the blankets crumpled around him, dark hair fanning out and juxtaposing with the faded grey of the sheets. there’s come smudged on taemin’s thighs and stomach, bruises posing as a crooked ring of roses marking the naked skin of his neck.
there it is again, that voice in his head, and jongin pads to his bag sitting slumped at the corner of his room and brings out his camera, hands still trembling from aftershocks. he watches taemin turn his head to look at him through the lens, having noticed the beep of the camera turning on. a smile plays on his mouth and the shutter goes off, saccharine and almost deific as taemin blinks, the curve of his cheeks lifting.
if taemin were ever a painting, jongin muses, he’d be splashed with gold and dotted with silver and white, eyes swirling with a hundred galaxies, limbs lissome and body drenched with finesse, features simple but striking.
jongin sets down the camera and hurries to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth and wiping the sweat and drying come off taemin’s skin. jongin quietly slips under the sheets after that, eyes locked with taemin’s while he kisses the tip of taemin’s nose, thumb rubbing the curve of bone of taemin’s side.
“jongin,” taemin mutters and jongin hums in reply. “ i’ll miss you too.”
jongin fits his fingers under the hinge of taemin’s jaw and kisses him until they both drift into darkness.
taemin’s the first to wake up, jongin seeing him standing in the kitchen spreading jam and butter on toast. he’s only clad in jongin’s mauve hoodie, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. jongin soon finds out that he’s bare under the hoodie, a satisfying shiver working all the way to the tips of his fingers when they trail up taemin’s legs. taemin has to leave for the airport in another two hours, so with toast still gripped in taemin’s hand, jongin props him up on the counter and sucks him off toe-curlingly slow, committing the soft whines taemin gives out to memory.
“it won’t take long,” taemin says when he’s dropped off at the airport, jongin’s eyebrows bowing in a frown. “wait for me, yeah?”
it’s just three weeks, jongin reminds himself with a nod, and he kisses the top of taemin’s head chastely, half of a smile on his face.
“go. or i’d be begging for you to stay here,” he jokes, finding comfort in taemin’s chuckle. “and i’m pretty sure your manager is waiting for you.” with a wave, taemin leaves, his luggage rolling along loudly on the bumpy tiled floors. jongin watches and tries not to look defeated.
the weeks drag on deliberately, days seeming to stretch out a bit more longer on the weekends. taemin sends jongin pictures of tokyo and lengthy texts about his day, but doesn’t answer his phone for the rest of the evening until the clock strikes ten, day already engulfed night.
taemin is smiling in all of the pictures, shining lights of the city burning bright around him and bathing him in a multitude of colours. he looks beautifully alive in all of the shots, the corners of his eyes painted and holding an ever-present glow.
it’s unexpected when a call comes through at one in the morning, and jongin cracks an eye open, hands fumbling to grab the phone on his nightstand, and without a glance at his screen, he answers.
“hello?” jongin’s voice is groggy, a hint of irritation lying beneath drowsiness.
“jongin? i’m so sorry if i woke you up,” a voice says, and jongin immediately recognizes it as taemin’s, quiet and tired. “it’s just that i can’t sleep.”
“so, you decided to wake me up instead?” jongin replies, tone light and he laughs when taemin starts blurting out apologies. “it’s alright. i don’t mind if it’s you.”
“i’m flattered.” taemin pauses. “i miss you.”
jongin’s heartbeat is steady as it beats, loud enough to hear with his head pressed up against his pillow. he hums. “i do too.”
“can you stay on the line for me? just until i get sleepy?” taemin asks, and jongin can hear the smile in his voice.
jongin nods, even though taemin’s not there to see it. “okay.”
he dozes off with taemin’s voice humming pleasantly in his ear, rambling on about the weather and the clothes and how he can’t wait to get home.
jongin sifts through every picture he’s taken of taemin the next day, tempted to print them out and nail them to the bulletin board hanging just above his desk, little pieces of memories coalescing to form a whole little universe on wood.
he updates his website instead, a shot depicting the outline of taemin’s form dressed in dark subdued by the muted lavender of the building behind him, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose displayed on the homepage.
it’s unpredictable and makes jongin’s bones want to jump out of his own skin when he swings open his front door, plastic bag rustling in his fingers, only to find taemin lounging on the sofa, somnolent and lazy, hands behind his back.
“taemin?” jongin’s eyes rivet towards the luggage lain on the floor, bemusement blocking the words off on his tongue. “i thought your flight was tonight.”
“not happy to see me?” taemin’s lips bends into a pout and he slips off the couch with the grace of a cat, sauntering over to jongin and enveloping his arms around jongin’s shoulders.
“no, i am but-” jongin halts. “wait, how did you get in my apartment?”
“oh!” taemin exclaims, blinking. “your door was unlocked so i let myself in.” jongin’s eyes widen; he was sure he had locked it, and even though he only went down to the convenience store to get a drink, he can’t help the unfortunate scenes that play out in his mind.
“oh.”
“and somehow things were not exactly read right and i got an early flight.” taemin replies, smile enigmatic and eyes twinkling. “but i came here for a reason.”
“what’s that?”
jongin loses his grasp on the plastic bag when taemin cups his jaw and kisses him into a daze, the bottle of milk tea bouncing off the floor with a thud. their breaths mingle and jongin can feel the cold metal of taemin’s ring sinking under his skin.
“wow,” jongin pants when they part, fingers gentle as they thread in taemin’s hair. “i’m tempted to ask which drama you got that from.”
taemin lets out that breathtaking laugh of his, lips stretching into a grin. “like it?”
“definitely.”
“hey.” taemin nudges at jongin’s shin with his foot, lighthearted and buoyant. “love you.”
jongin feels a certain warmth travel in his veins, thick like honey and saturated with the colour of the sun, and he stoops down, fits his lips on taemin’s and revels in the taste, pondering on whether constellations form into place when they kiss.