Fic: Chance
Fandom: SHINee, EXO
Characters: Taemin, Jongin (Kai)
Pairings: Taekai
Genre: canon, humour, fluff, smut
Rating: NC-17, yaoi, rps
Status: Complete
Summary: Jongin just wanted to go to a concert and fanboy rock out to his heart's content.
"Eve?" Jongin crouches as he reads the tag, absently petting the shivering puppy that had suddenly appeared from nowhere and made a beeline for him. Jongin picks up the dog and frowns. He takes a quick look to be certain, and shakes his head. Why the hell anyone would name their dog 'Eve' when it's clearly an Adam, he has no idea.
He looks around. There’s still a small crowd lingering in front of the concert venue, but no-one in the street he’d just walked into. Clearly the dog belongs to someone, but how is he supposed to-
“Hey!”
Jongin looks up to see a girl hurrying towards him, gesturing at the dog.
“Hello there,” Jongin calls out. “Is he yours?” Jongin moves to hand the puppy over, but the girl refuses, shaking her head.
“No, no,” she replies, putting her arms out protectively in front to avoid the puppy. “He belongs to a friend, but I can’t take him.”
Jongin raises his eyebrows, and the girl flushes. “Look, he chews on my clothes!” she exclaims. Jongin eyes her, and can kind of see her point; her clothes look like they cost more than his monthly rent. She frowns. “If you don’t mind, can you just, I don’t know, just keep holding him and follow me?”
Jongin hesitates, paranoia surfacing. The girl must’ve seen it, because she grins and points back at the entrance to the concert venue. “It’s just back there. You attended the concert, right?”
Jongin nods slowly. There are no other buildings with any activity nearby, so it would be pretty pointless of him to deny it.
She leans forward, voice lowering in a conspiratorial tone. “I’ll get you backstage. You won’t regret it.”
Jongin raises his brows. Well, in that case… “All right then, lead the way,” he says, smiling at the girl’s answering grin.
She leads him down the alley, to a nondescript door in the wall that Jongin would almost certainly have missed if it wasn’t pointed out to him. As he follows her through a surprisingly well-lit corridor, the noise level increases until they emerge into a busy room, full of people going to and fro, musical instruments, wardrobe hangers, and wow, he really is backstage, isn’t he? Jongin looks around, wide-eyed. It’s both similar and different from his own experiences - a lot more chaotic, but the atmosphere is definitely nostalgic.
"You found him!" he hears in an entirely familiar voice, and freezes for a long second before drawing in a deep breath and turning around. Taemin (Taemin!!) is striding up to him with a broad smile, his long blond hair framed messily around his face and still wearing his performance clothes.
It all feels slightly surreal for Jongin as they hurriedly go through their introductions. His bow is a bit awkward as he’s still holding Eve, but Taemin is fully distracted anyway so that’s a slight relief. He hadn’t seriously entertained the possibility that he'd be able to meet the famous rockstar - well, all right, maybe just a little bit, but he refuses to admit to his fanboy side - so he’s all but speechless in front of Taemin in all his leather-clad glory, especially when Taemin brings up his arms like he’s about to hug him. He stares for a second, then belatedly realizes that Taemin's just waiting for him to hand over the dog. Who, for some reason, does not seem to want to leave Jongin's arms, burrowing back in when Taemin tries to take him, claws scratching at Jongin’s thin T-shirt.
"Sorry about this," Taemin sighs. "It's the smoke. My friend let off the fireworks, and he just went nuts. I haven't seen him for months because of the tour, and now he’s being stubborn."
Jongin counts himself lucky that Taemin is focused on the dog and not him because he feels very much like a statue, unable to move or speak in the presence of the celebrity he has so recently seen rocking out on stage. Taemin once again tries to take Eve, but the dog is very definitely not having it. Jongin rouses himself when the claws become a little painful. “Ow,” he mutters, trying to lift Eve up a little. Taemin seems to realize that Eve is very much not interested, and falls back, frowning.
“Is it my clothes?” Taemin wonders aloud, drawing up his shirt to sniff it. “Do I smell of the smoke, or what?”
Jongin bites down on his instinctive response that Taemin in fact, smells really good, but that would be kind of creepy to say, and he’s determined not to come across as one of the crazy fans, so he desists and looks down, cuddling Eve. Thank God for Eve. Jongin is fond of dogs, but thinks Eve might be his very favourite, and mentally apologizes to Monggu and Jjangu. Saved by a puppy, though. He onsiders it and smiles a little. He could live with that.
Jongin looks up at the sound of muttered swears, and then he doesn't know what he's done in a past life to deserve this but he's grateful because Taemin is still growling insults in exasperation and taking off his shirt for some reason, holy shit, and is soon standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of unbuttoned leather pants, looking expectantly at him. No-one else in the room seems remotely surprised, or even gives them a second glance.
"Uh," Jongin says weakly, trying to get his head to work, because he’d had a point, damn it. "He's got. Um. Claws?"
Taemin blinks at him, brightening up, and snatches a leather jacket from the nearby chair. But now this is even worse, because Taemin is standing in front of Jongin like something from his wildest fantasies, and Jongin is almost afraid to surrender the dog, because he's honestly not sure what he'll end up doing if he’s not gripping Eve with desperate dedication.
“Hey, Taemin, leave the poor baby alone,” calls a voice from behind them, and Jongin sees a very fashionably attired man, with hair streaked a multitude of colours that accentuate his very interesting bone structure and porcelain white skin.
“I’ll take him,” he says, striding forward and neatly extricating Eve from Jongin’s arms. “He can play with Garçons and Comme-des till he’s willing to forgive you.” Then he takes a second look at Jongin, giving him a (very long) once-over. Jongin shrinks back and feels horribly underdressed.
“On the other hand, I can take him too,” he drawls, and smirks. “Where do you find them, Taemin-”
“Hyung,” Taemin sighs.
“Look at him,” the man gesticulates, and now both the really attractive men are looking at Jongin, and he feels unbearably embarrassed. “Once we take off the tragic clothes-”
“Hyung,” Taemin repeats. “I know it’s hard to stop stripping every person you see and dressing them up, but please try to control yourself.”
“All right, all right.” The man huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll just wait till you come crawling back to me for your next wardrobe then. See if I help you!” He whirls around dramatically, walking away with a last smile and a wink at Jongin. Jongin stares.
“Thanks.” Jongin drags his gaze back from the bewildering (but hot) man to see Taemin staring back with a rueful smile. “And sorry about that. Key-hyung can be a bit overwhelming.”
Jongin blinks. “His name’s Key?”
Taemin laughs. “It’s Kibum, but he won’t answer if you call him that. He’s in charge of the wardrobe, but has a problem with his work-life balance.” He drops his gaze down to Jongin’s chest. “Not that I can blame him, though. Eve seems to have done quite a number on you.”
Jongin looks down, and well, that’s embarrassing. His T-shirt seems to have acquired more than a few tears, and damn it, that was one of his favourite tees.
“Sorry," Taemin says, smiling apologetically. "Eve can be a handful. Maybe I should’ve let hyung dress you up.”
“It’s fine,” Jongin says, and is thankful that his voice is almost back to his usual steady levels. “He’s a sweet dog.”
“How did you find him?” Taemin asks, tilting his head to the side in question.
“He… kind of found me?” Jongin offers and shrugs. “A couple of streets away. I was just heading home.” And then has to ask. “Eve?”
Taemin grins, his eyes lighting up in mischief, and it transforms his face entirely. “Well, I already had an Adam, so…”
Jongin laughs, unable not to in the face of that infectious grin. “In any case, I was reading his tag, and then a girl found us and brought me here.”
Taemin nods in recognition. “Was it Krystal?”
“Um,” Jongin flounders. “I didn’t get her name, but she had red hair..? Wasn’t gonna pass up the opportunity to come backstage though.”
“So you were at the concert?” Taemin asks, smiling. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yeah,” Jongin admits. “It was pretty great. Never thought I’d get to meet you this soon though.”
“Soon?” Taemin asks, and okay, this may be somewhat embarrassing.
“Uhm." Jongin bites his lip, but decides to be honest. "I stumbled upon your music just a few months ago..?”
Taemin raises a disbelieving brow. A bit arrogant, maybe, but Jongin admits he does kind of have a point. Taemin is one of the more recognizable people in Korea, his face plastered everywhere and music playing from malls to tiny corner shops.
“I, erm. Used to live under a bit of a rock?” Jongin offers. He’s never really been into the popular stuff, even as a kid.
Taemin just laughs. "So, what do you do, under the rock?" He asks, leaning back on his heels. He has to look up a little, and it's only then that Jongin realizes he’s actually taller than Taemin.
"I'm a dancer," Jongin says, and Taemin's eyebrows rise.
"Street?"
"Ah, no." Jongin rubs the back of his head. "Used to be ballet." Taemin grins as he looks him up and down and Jongin sighs, knowing that he's probably picturing him in a tutu. "Jazz and contemporary, now."
"Couldn't take the leggings?" Taemin teases.
"Injury," he says, his eyes dropping to the floor. He winces a bit with the echo of past pain as he explains. "Had to stop for a while and just never went back." He smiles at Taemin's apologetic grimace to show he didn't mind, because he's gotten over it. Mostly.
“I stumbled onto your music when I was looking for a piece to choreograph,” Jongin continues. He’d been trying to do a fusion piece when Hyoyeon had just downloaded a bunch of music into his phone, telling him to expand his horizons. “A bit less Mozart, maybe,” she’d declared, and, well, she was his partner, they needed to find middle ground somewhere. He’d half-heartedly said yes, and gone through with his promise of listening to all of Hyo’s stuff, only for a particular piece of music to hook itself into his brain. It had caught his imagination instantly, and he’d been so inspired that they’d somehow finished the choreo in just one sitting.
He’d immersed himself into the song so much that he knew every second, every riff, and every breath the singer took. Then he’d looked Taemin up, and fallen very hard, very fast, and admitted to becoming a full-fledged fan after an entire week of listening to his discography.
“So this is my first concert you’ve attended?” Taemin asks, shifting on his feet, and his jacket gapes open to show more pale skin. Jongin tries his best to keep his eyes on Taemin’s (admittedly gorgeous) face, and hopes Taemin doesn’t notice his distraction. The glint in Taemin’s darkly-lined eyes says otherwise, and he tries not to blush as Taemin continues. “And I’ve finished it off with my dog ripping your shirt to shreds, hmm?”
“A small price.” Jongin ducks his head and pats his torn T-shirt self-consciously. “I’d say I lucked out though, got to meet you. My friends will be pretty jealous.”
“Maybe you’d like to push your luck a little more?” Taemin murmurs.
“I- what?”Jongin looks back up, startled, just in time to see Taemin take a step forward; his eyes are hooded, and his hand comes up to stroke along the tears till he reaches skin.
Jongin’s mind stutters to a complete halt. Taemin’s fingers are cold, and calloused, and leave goosebumps in their wake. “I should treat Eve for finding you,” Taemin hums, almost to himself, and looks up through his lashes. “But then she’s torn this all to shreds, so…”
Taemin seems less interested in the tee now than he is in getting even closer to Jongin. Jongin kind of wants him to stop, because his heart is already thundering so loud he can't believe no-one else can hear it, but he also wants him to keep going.
"Let me make it up to you,” Taemin murmurs. His voice has dropped low, and it’s like Jongin’s entire body resonates with the sound. He can feel his resolve weakening with every small movement of Taemin’s fingers on his chest. Not that he could help it, what with Taemin looking at him like that, all knowing eyes and half-smirks.
"I-it's fine," Jongin manages to say, desperately trying to stop his mind from going places it's safer not to when Lee Taemin is standing right in front of you, and propositioning you? Jongin stares in some disbelief, and then wants to smack himself upside the head. Why was he even resisting?
"I insist," Taemin purrs, and draws his finger down Jongin's waist till he reaches his belt. "You can show me your moves," he says, eyebrows rising, and grins before he turns and walks away. He doesn't look back. Jongin gapes for a few seconds, unable to believe what just happened till one of the makeup girls nudges him in the side.
"Well, go on," she says and then in an undertone, "you damn lucky bastard," and shoves him in the direction of the door. Jongin stumbles forward, catching his balance, and follows in a daze.
Jongin still cannot believe this is happening. Just yesterday, he'd been in his bed jacking off to this exact scenario, and tonight he's on his knees in front of his ultimate celebrity crush, nosing at the front of his unzipped leather pants while Taemin stares at him with his eyes hooded, eyeliner smudged and gaze languorous. The contrast between the deep red couch he's slouched on and all the black leather and pale skin has Jongin's mouth dry even before taking the frost-white hair into account.
Jongin used to tell himself that there was no way anyone could be as attractive as they looked on TV, being more than intimately familiar with all sorts of makeup, and how it enhanced looks to the point that sometimes he couldn’t even recognize himself before going onstage. But Taemin in reality is somehow even more arresting, the delicate ridges of his face complimenting the knowing in the dark eyes, the full lips curved into a half-smirk that invites attention, the strength in his grip surprising compared to the ethereal, untouchable beauty he projects. Taemin is a study in contrasts, and Jongin finds himself breathless.
When he’d seen Taemin backstage, it had struck him that Taemin was smaller in stature than he’d imagined, but the magnetism that had thousands staring at him on stage is still present. It’s as if Taemin projects his own gravitational field, and despite Jongin’s stern reminders to himself to not act like a stereotypical fan, he can feel his heart speeding up, palms becoming clammy.
But he’s here for a reason, with someone he’d never dreamed would give him a second glance, so he takes a deep breath and settles himself.
Jongin’s eyes flick up as he slowly draws him out, the weight of Taemin's cock grounding him as he moves forward to mouth at his balls. Taemin's lidded gaze is almost a physical presence, and his eyes close only when he eventually hits the back of Jongin’s throat, arching up with a moan when Jongin swallows around him. Taemin is quieter than anyone Jongin's been with, but that only makes him work harder to draw out every moan, every sigh that escapes Taemin making Jongin hungrier for more.
Jongin loses track of time, his entire existence seeming to hinge only on Taemin, the cock hitting the back of his throat with every slow thrust, the hands laced into his hair as his mouth is slowly fucked, and the friction of the rug against his knees. The murmured encouragements when Jongin sucks and licks is like a drug, making Jongin surrender entirely, letting Taemin guide his head as he pleases.
When Taemin comes, his cock is so far down Jongin's throat that his face is pressed against Taemin's crotch, and he gets a little lightheaded from lack of air. Jongin is somewhat disappointed, because Taemin's face when he's coming would probably have been a memory to be cherished for the rest of his life, and he's not sure if he'll get another chance. He withdraws slowly and sprawls on his back, resting on his elbows. His body twinges in multiple places, protesting the strain. Jongin automatically arches his back in a stretch, rolling his shoulders and neck back and stretching out all the way to his toes.
He opens his eyes to find Taemin watching him, eyes sparking. Jongin stills despite himself when Taemin gets up and steps closer, leaving the jacket on the couch. Jongin's feels a thrill run through him, but he's sure he can't be blamed because the legs that he'd been drooling over for all these months are now right in front of him. He licks his lips in anticipation, and can still taste the salty bitterness of Taemin’s release. Taemin seems to notice, and quirks a heated smile at Jongin as he drops down between his parted legs. Jongin’s breath stutters in his chest when Taemin puts his palm on the erection straining against his jeans and presses down, moving up to sprawl all along Jongin's body.
Jongin's heart is thudding in his chest, and he shifts against Taemin's hand with a breathless gasp. Taemin's legs are on top of his, keeping them spread, and his hand slips under Jongin's T-shirt to stroke along his stomach. "Off," Taemin demands, tugging at the fabric. His voice is noticeably lower than normal, and Jongin shudders as he complies.
Taemin strokes up along Jongin's naked side till his hand curls around the back of his neck, winding into his hair. Jongin arches up, baring his throat, and Taemin accepts the invitation, mouthing his neck and licking unhurriedly at the madly beating pulse at the base of his throat. Jongin curls his fingers into the plush rug under him to stop himself from grabbing at the body above, and shivers anew when Taemin's hand slips into his boxers and pulls.
Jongin's already so overwhelmed that he's teetering at the peak in an embarrassingly short period of time. It’s a complete surprise when the hand on his cock abruptly stops its ministrations, and Taemin's fingers tighten around the base. Jongin gasps and his hands grab onto Taemin's shoulders despite himself. "No, I-"
"Ssh," Taemin murmurs into Jongin's throat, kissing his way up, his grip almost punishing in contrast to his soft exhalations, and Jongin bites his lip, throwing his head to the side and whimpering as he lets Taemin kiss and lick along the sensitive area behind his ear.
Jongin is trembling when Taemin slows down and then gradually speeds up, so slowly that he almost screams when Taemin stops, again. "T-Taemin, I'm-"
"Patience," Taemin says, and Jongin can definitely make out the laughter in his voice, the jerk, even through his desperation. He curls his fingers into Taemin's shoulders till he feels his nails break skin and he hears a gasp above him. Taemin's fingers in his hair tighten, and he lifts his head till his lips are hovering over Jongin's, no less than a breath separating them.
Jongin parts his lips in anticipation, and drags his gaze up till it falls into Taemin's, pupils dark and blown in arousal. "Please," Jongin breathes, and Taemin's eyes flash a second before he drops his head down and kisses Jongin so fiercely he almost forgets that he's on the brink of orgasm, at least till Taemin's hips push against him, and his cock is pulled in the same rhythm as Taemin's tongue thrusts against his. It's like Taemin is fucking him, fucking his mouth again, and Jongin comes to the thought, so hard that he almost blacks out.
When he comes back to himself, Taemin is sprawled comfortably over him, and his hands are back in Jongin's hair, and Taemin's still kissing him, long and languid. Jongin wraps his arms around Taemin’s shoulders and kisses back.
“I'll see you around,” Taemin says, yawning. He props his head on his hand as he lounges on the bed with a half-smile, watching Jongin dress with lazy, sated eyes. Taemin is as stunning to look at in the morning light as he was at night, and Jongin still can’t bring himself to believe the night he’s had. He’s sore in the most pleasant of ways, and they’d only managed to sleep for a couple of hours - Taemin is startlingly inventive in bed, not to mention truly delighted by Jongin’s flexibility. After they’d recovered, Taemin had smiled impishly and tugged him into the bedroom, where he proceeded to take advantage of it in the best of ways. Jongin feels a pleasant buzz when he thinks back on it as he pulls on his pants and the shirt Taemin had let him use.
"Yeah, guess so," Jongin replies with a last glance back and leaves with a smile and a wave, shutting the door quietly behind him after his goodbyes. The shirt is oversized, and he curls his fingers into the sleeves as he walks away. It's one night, and it's not like they made any promises. Jongin doesn't expect anything, either. The night's been magical enough, and he knows what he's going to jerk off to for the next few weeks... months (years), but Taemin has a rep, and Jongin's just glad for the chance. He's not delusional enough to expect an encore.
Which is why he's thrown when Taemin notices him sometime later. Jongin's kept an eye on the concert schedules, and he's lucky to have gotten a ticket before it all sold out. He can't exactly go to all of Taemin's concerts - dancing doesn't pay him as much as he’d like yet, not to mention the difficulties of his own schedule, but he rewards himself when he has the extra cash, and the time.
It's a smaller venue, and he’s near the front which might be why Taemin sees him, face lighting up in a dazzling smile as he points directly at Jongin, making the crowd around him roar. Taemin then spends the entire concert after that throwing winks and flirting outrageously in his general direction, and Jongin's just glad no-one knows him, and that it's dark, or he'd be permanently red. He’s still startled when he sees Krystal wave enthusiastically and come up to him after the concert, laughing at him and winking when she leads him backstage.
The third time he isn't as surprised when a burly security type guy walks up to him after the concert. His escort's face is bland, but Jongin still feels his face burning when he's escorted to the back. He wonders when he turned into a stereotypical groupie and judges himself for all of two minutes. Then he's ushered into a room, and Taemin is striding forward, grinning sunnily at him, and Jongin forgets all the lectures he's just given himself and melts into Taemin's kiss, the familiar smell of sweat and the tang of Taemin's sharp cologne thrilling his senses.
After the sixth time, Jongin actually starts to wait for the (same) security guy (or Krystal) to find him. A few months later they're lounging on the bed after yet another concert, Taemin having indulgently watched Jongin demolish a tub of chicken. In between teasing him about growing feathers, and Jongin arguing back about Taemin’s lame puns, Taemin asks him if he’d be coming to the concert on a certain date. It’s the farthest they’ve gone with regards to planning their... encounters so far. Jongin frowns, thinking over his schedule.
"I can't," he says with honest regret. "I have a lead performance a few days after, so it'll be a rush of rehearsals."
Taemin hums, non-committal, and then sneaks his hand under the sheets, and soon Jongin is far too distracted to think any further.
Jongin is completely surprised on the day of the performance when he's finished his encore, and he comes back to a huge bouquet of flowers waiting in his shared dressing room.
"Wow," Hyoyeon says, peeking in. "Who've you impressed lately, ballet-boy?"
Jongin rolls his eyes and looks at the card. "There's no name." He frowns.
"Could be a potential sugar mommy. Or daddy," Hyoyeon leers, waggling her eyebrows as she leaves. "Better keep your eyes open."
Jongin rolls his eyes and turns to drop back into his chair, bending forward to take off the bandages on his ankle, sparing a last glance at the flowers. He hears the door opening behind him and assumes it's the other dancer he’s sharing the room with.
"Lay, can you support me with my back stretches?" Jongin's waist injury has healed for the most part, but he still gets twinges and there’s a chance of it seizing up if he's not careful. He looks up into the mirror and freezes.
"I'm not sure if I can be of much help," Taemin says, looking ludicrously out-of-place among all the odds and ends in the dressing room in his extremely well-cut (and screamingly expensive) suit. "But I'm game if you are."
Jongin stares for an extended beat, wondering wildly if he’s having a post-performance hallucination and whirls around, but Taemin is still standing there, as perfect a vision as he’s ever been. A dozen questions come to him, ranging from how on earth Taemin found him, wasn’t he supposed to be out of the country, and why is he even here. His brain and mouth seem to have a disconnect, however.
"You own clothes other than leather?" he asks stupidly.
Taemin looks down at himself, and cocks a resolute eyebrow when he looks back at Jongin. "I'm undercover and respectable. Don't spread it around."
Jongin snorts, because 'respectable' is the last word he'd associate with Lee Taemin, suit or not. It still doesn't stop him from looking particularly angelic, with his usual tangles of blond hair now dyed back to black (black!) and neatly combed back, with no trace of makeup on his face.
“What are you even doing here?” Jongin asks, striding forward for a swift hug. “How did you get backstage?”
“I met the most charming lady who escorted me here, but she got called away,” Taemin says, adroitly side-stepping the first question. “I didn’t know I had fans among the serious dancer crowd,” he marvels, and Jongin frowns, because what is he, cooked shrimp? Taemin sees it, because he amends his statement to: “Well, other than you.”
Jongin eyes him. “Taemin…” he starts, and Taemin pouts in mock-offense.
“What, like you’re the only one who can be a groupie?”
“I’m not a-” Jongin hisses and then stops short, because technically speaking…
“Yes?” Taemin asks innocently. Jongin glares at him, affronted, but can't bring himself to mind too much when Taemin huffs in laughter, the sound ringing out through the room.
“This is ridiculous,” Jongin insists. “You’re ridiculous. If someone sees you-”
“Are you ashamed of me, Mr. Classical Dancer?” Taemin says, grinning, and brings a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”
Jongin sighs.
“And I think someone already took some photos of me, so don’t be surprised if you see some of my fans here later,” Taemin says, and glances behind him like he’s confirming that there’s no screaming fans sneaking up for autographs or something equally ridiculous.
Jongin stifles a laugh, because, well. All publicity is good publicity after all. “The director will probably be thanking you for all the extra seats sold, then.” Jongin shakes his head, still in some disbelief. “I’m serious, though, this isn’t exactly your scene. Did you even like it?” His voice comes out surprisingly small, and he internally winces. He hadn’t meant to blurt out that last bit.
Taemin’s eyes soften as he steps closer, bracing his arms against the table on either side of Jongin. “You were wonderful,” he murmurs against Jongin’s lips. “I loved everything. Let me take you to dinner and you can tell me some more about it. There was that bit in the middle with the three ladies that I didn’t quite get because I was too busy staring at you.”
Jongin laughs a little, and groans, partly because he still can’t believe this is happening, and partly because Taemin has the worst timing in the world. “Taemin, I’m exhausted. And sweaty, and gross, and-”
“That’s all right,” Taemin says and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “We can order in.”
“I’m not gonna be very scintillating company though,” Jongin warns, slumping against him.
“We’ll see after we get some chicken in you,” Taemin says, and Jongin drops his head to Taemin’s suit-clad shoulder and tries to smother his unmanly giggling. “And you can thank me for the flowers properly. Drop me some spoilers for your next project too, maybe.”
“When did you develop an interest in dance?” Jongin mutters.
“Oh, it’s a fairly recent obsession,” Taemin replies, voice light, and Jongin feels his face heating up even as he hides a smile against Taemin’s neck. “I’ve got a newfound appreciation for... modern jazz," he says, leering, and Jongin has no idea how he manages to make those perfectly normal words sound so filthy.
"It's contemporary!" he corrects half-heartedly, and allows himself to be dragged back into a kiss.
-
Characters: Taemin, Jongin (Kai)
Pairings: Taekai
Genre: canon, humour, fluff, smut
Rating: NC-17, yaoi, rps
Status: Complete
Summary: Jongin just wanted to go to a concert and fanboy rock out to his heart's content.
"Eve?" Jongin crouches as he reads the tag, absently petting the shivering puppy that had suddenly appeared from nowhere and made a beeline for him. Jongin picks up the dog and frowns. He takes a quick look to be certain, and shakes his head. Why the hell anyone would name their dog 'Eve' when it's clearly an Adam, he has no idea.
He looks around. There’s still a small crowd lingering in front of the concert venue, but no-one in the street he’d just walked into. Clearly the dog belongs to someone, but how is he supposed to-
“Hey!”
Jongin looks up to see a girl hurrying towards him, gesturing at the dog.
“Hello there,” Jongin calls out. “Is he yours?” Jongin moves to hand the puppy over, but the girl refuses, shaking her head.
“No, no,” she replies, putting her arms out protectively in front to avoid the puppy. “He belongs to a friend, but I can’t take him.”
Jongin raises his eyebrows, and the girl flushes. “Look, he chews on my clothes!” she exclaims. Jongin eyes her, and can kind of see her point; her clothes look like they cost more than his monthly rent. She frowns. “If you don’t mind, can you just, I don’t know, just keep holding him and follow me?”
Jongin hesitates, paranoia surfacing. The girl must’ve seen it, because she grins and points back at the entrance to the concert venue. “It’s just back there. You attended the concert, right?”
Jongin nods slowly. There are no other buildings with any activity nearby, so it would be pretty pointless of him to deny it.
She leans forward, voice lowering in a conspiratorial tone. “I’ll get you backstage. You won’t regret it.”
Jongin raises his brows. Well, in that case… “All right then, lead the way,” he says, smiling at the girl’s answering grin.
She leads him down the alley, to a nondescript door in the wall that Jongin would almost certainly have missed if it wasn’t pointed out to him. As he follows her through a surprisingly well-lit corridor, the noise level increases until they emerge into a busy room, full of people going to and fro, musical instruments, wardrobe hangers, and wow, he really is backstage, isn’t he? Jongin looks around, wide-eyed. It’s both similar and different from his own experiences - a lot more chaotic, but the atmosphere is definitely nostalgic.
"You found him!" he hears in an entirely familiar voice, and freezes for a long second before drawing in a deep breath and turning around. Taemin (Taemin!!) is striding up to him with a broad smile, his long blond hair framed messily around his face and still wearing his performance clothes.
It all feels slightly surreal for Jongin as they hurriedly go through their introductions. His bow is a bit awkward as he’s still holding Eve, but Taemin is fully distracted anyway so that’s a slight relief. He hadn’t seriously entertained the possibility that he'd be able to meet the famous rockstar - well, all right, maybe just a little bit, but he refuses to admit to his fanboy side - so he’s all but speechless in front of Taemin in all his leather-clad glory, especially when Taemin brings up his arms like he’s about to hug him. He stares for a second, then belatedly realizes that Taemin's just waiting for him to hand over the dog. Who, for some reason, does not seem to want to leave Jongin's arms, burrowing back in when Taemin tries to take him, claws scratching at Jongin’s thin T-shirt.
"Sorry about this," Taemin sighs. "It's the smoke. My friend let off the fireworks, and he just went nuts. I haven't seen him for months because of the tour, and now he’s being stubborn."
Jongin counts himself lucky that Taemin is focused on the dog and not him because he feels very much like a statue, unable to move or speak in the presence of the celebrity he has so recently seen rocking out on stage. Taemin once again tries to take Eve, but the dog is very definitely not having it. Jongin rouses himself when the claws become a little painful. “Ow,” he mutters, trying to lift Eve up a little. Taemin seems to realize that Eve is very much not interested, and falls back, frowning.
“Is it my clothes?” Taemin wonders aloud, drawing up his shirt to sniff it. “Do I smell of the smoke, or what?”
Jongin bites down on his instinctive response that Taemin in fact, smells really good, but that would be kind of creepy to say, and he’s determined not to come across as one of the crazy fans, so he desists and looks down, cuddling Eve. Thank God for Eve. Jongin is fond of dogs, but thinks Eve might be his very favourite, and mentally apologizes to Monggu and Jjangu. Saved by a puppy, though. He onsiders it and smiles a little. He could live with that.
Jongin looks up at the sound of muttered swears, and then he doesn't know what he's done in a past life to deserve this but he's grateful because Taemin is still growling insults in exasperation and taking off his shirt for some reason, holy shit, and is soon standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of unbuttoned leather pants, looking expectantly at him. No-one else in the room seems remotely surprised, or even gives them a second glance.
"Uh," Jongin says weakly, trying to get his head to work, because he’d had a point, damn it. "He's got. Um. Claws?"
Taemin blinks at him, brightening up, and snatches a leather jacket from the nearby chair. But now this is even worse, because Taemin is standing in front of Jongin like something from his wildest fantasies, and Jongin is almost afraid to surrender the dog, because he's honestly not sure what he'll end up doing if he’s not gripping Eve with desperate dedication.
“Hey, Taemin, leave the poor baby alone,” calls a voice from behind them, and Jongin sees a very fashionably attired man, with hair streaked a multitude of colours that accentuate his very interesting bone structure and porcelain white skin.
“I’ll take him,” he says, striding forward and neatly extricating Eve from Jongin’s arms. “He can play with Garçons and Comme-des till he’s willing to forgive you.” Then he takes a second look at Jongin, giving him a (very long) once-over. Jongin shrinks back and feels horribly underdressed.
“On the other hand, I can take him too,” he drawls, and smirks. “Where do you find them, Taemin-”
“Hyung,” Taemin sighs.
“Look at him,” the man gesticulates, and now both the really attractive men are looking at Jongin, and he feels unbearably embarrassed. “Once we take off the tragic clothes-”
“Hyung,” Taemin repeats. “I know it’s hard to stop stripping every person you see and dressing them up, but please try to control yourself.”
“All right, all right.” The man huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll just wait till you come crawling back to me for your next wardrobe then. See if I help you!” He whirls around dramatically, walking away with a last smile and a wink at Jongin. Jongin stares.
“Thanks.” Jongin drags his gaze back from the bewildering (but hot) man to see Taemin staring back with a rueful smile. “And sorry about that. Key-hyung can be a bit overwhelming.”
Jongin blinks. “His name’s Key?”
Taemin laughs. “It’s Kibum, but he won’t answer if you call him that. He’s in charge of the wardrobe, but has a problem with his work-life balance.” He drops his gaze down to Jongin’s chest. “Not that I can blame him, though. Eve seems to have done quite a number on you.”
Jongin looks down, and well, that’s embarrassing. His T-shirt seems to have acquired more than a few tears, and damn it, that was one of his favourite tees.
“Sorry," Taemin says, smiling apologetically. "Eve can be a handful. Maybe I should’ve let hyung dress you up.”
“It’s fine,” Jongin says, and is thankful that his voice is almost back to his usual steady levels. “He’s a sweet dog.”
“How did you find him?” Taemin asks, tilting his head to the side in question.
“He… kind of found me?” Jongin offers and shrugs. “A couple of streets away. I was just heading home.” And then has to ask. “Eve?”
Taemin grins, his eyes lighting up in mischief, and it transforms his face entirely. “Well, I already had an Adam, so…”
Jongin laughs, unable not to in the face of that infectious grin. “In any case, I was reading his tag, and then a girl found us and brought me here.”
Taemin nods in recognition. “Was it Krystal?”
“Um,” Jongin flounders. “I didn’t get her name, but she had red hair..? Wasn’t gonna pass up the opportunity to come backstage though.”
“So you were at the concert?” Taemin asks, smiling. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yeah,” Jongin admits. “It was pretty great. Never thought I’d get to meet you this soon though.”
“Soon?” Taemin asks, and okay, this may be somewhat embarrassing.
“Uhm." Jongin bites his lip, but decides to be honest. "I stumbled upon your music just a few months ago..?”
Taemin raises a disbelieving brow. A bit arrogant, maybe, but Jongin admits he does kind of have a point. Taemin is one of the more recognizable people in Korea, his face plastered everywhere and music playing from malls to tiny corner shops.
“I, erm. Used to live under a bit of a rock?” Jongin offers. He’s never really been into the popular stuff, even as a kid.
Taemin just laughs. "So, what do you do, under the rock?" He asks, leaning back on his heels. He has to look up a little, and it's only then that Jongin realizes he’s actually taller than Taemin.
"I'm a dancer," Jongin says, and Taemin's eyebrows rise.
"Street?"
"Ah, no." Jongin rubs the back of his head. "Used to be ballet." Taemin grins as he looks him up and down and Jongin sighs, knowing that he's probably picturing him in a tutu. "Jazz and contemporary, now."
"Couldn't take the leggings?" Taemin teases.
"Injury," he says, his eyes dropping to the floor. He winces a bit with the echo of past pain as he explains. "Had to stop for a while and just never went back." He smiles at Taemin's apologetic grimace to show he didn't mind, because he's gotten over it. Mostly.
“I stumbled onto your music when I was looking for a piece to choreograph,” Jongin continues. He’d been trying to do a fusion piece when Hyoyeon had just downloaded a bunch of music into his phone, telling him to expand his horizons. “A bit less Mozart, maybe,” she’d declared, and, well, she was his partner, they needed to find middle ground somewhere. He’d half-heartedly said yes, and gone through with his promise of listening to all of Hyo’s stuff, only for a particular piece of music to hook itself into his brain. It had caught his imagination instantly, and he’d been so inspired that they’d somehow finished the choreo in just one sitting.
He’d immersed himself into the song so much that he knew every second, every riff, and every breath the singer took. Then he’d looked Taemin up, and fallen very hard, very fast, and admitted to becoming a full-fledged fan after an entire week of listening to his discography.
“So this is my first concert you’ve attended?” Taemin asks, shifting on his feet, and his jacket gapes open to show more pale skin. Jongin tries his best to keep his eyes on Taemin’s (admittedly gorgeous) face, and hopes Taemin doesn’t notice his distraction. The glint in Taemin’s darkly-lined eyes says otherwise, and he tries not to blush as Taemin continues. “And I’ve finished it off with my dog ripping your shirt to shreds, hmm?”
“A small price.” Jongin ducks his head and pats his torn T-shirt self-consciously. “I’d say I lucked out though, got to meet you. My friends will be pretty jealous.”
“Maybe you’d like to push your luck a little more?” Taemin murmurs.
“I- what?”Jongin looks back up, startled, just in time to see Taemin take a step forward; his eyes are hooded, and his hand comes up to stroke along the tears till he reaches skin.
Jongin’s mind stutters to a complete halt. Taemin’s fingers are cold, and calloused, and leave goosebumps in their wake. “I should treat Eve for finding you,” Taemin hums, almost to himself, and looks up through his lashes. “But then she’s torn this all to shreds, so…”
Taemin seems less interested in the tee now than he is in getting even closer to Jongin. Jongin kind of wants him to stop, because his heart is already thundering so loud he can't believe no-one else can hear it, but he also wants him to keep going.
"Let me make it up to you,” Taemin murmurs. His voice has dropped low, and it’s like Jongin’s entire body resonates with the sound. He can feel his resolve weakening with every small movement of Taemin’s fingers on his chest. Not that he could help it, what with Taemin looking at him like that, all knowing eyes and half-smirks.
"I-it's fine," Jongin manages to say, desperately trying to stop his mind from going places it's safer not to when Lee Taemin is standing right in front of you, and propositioning you? Jongin stares in some disbelief, and then wants to smack himself upside the head. Why was he even resisting?
"I insist," Taemin purrs, and draws his finger down Jongin's waist till he reaches his belt. "You can show me your moves," he says, eyebrows rising, and grins before he turns and walks away. He doesn't look back. Jongin gapes for a few seconds, unable to believe what just happened till one of the makeup girls nudges him in the side.
"Well, go on," she says and then in an undertone, "you damn lucky bastard," and shoves him in the direction of the door. Jongin stumbles forward, catching his balance, and follows in a daze.
Jongin still cannot believe this is happening. Just yesterday, he'd been in his bed jacking off to this exact scenario, and tonight he's on his knees in front of his ultimate celebrity crush, nosing at the front of his unzipped leather pants while Taemin stares at him with his eyes hooded, eyeliner smudged and gaze languorous. The contrast between the deep red couch he's slouched on and all the black leather and pale skin has Jongin's mouth dry even before taking the frost-white hair into account.
Jongin used to tell himself that there was no way anyone could be as attractive as they looked on TV, being more than intimately familiar with all sorts of makeup, and how it enhanced looks to the point that sometimes he couldn’t even recognize himself before going onstage. But Taemin in reality is somehow even more arresting, the delicate ridges of his face complimenting the knowing in the dark eyes, the full lips curved into a half-smirk that invites attention, the strength in his grip surprising compared to the ethereal, untouchable beauty he projects. Taemin is a study in contrasts, and Jongin finds himself breathless.
When he’d seen Taemin backstage, it had struck him that Taemin was smaller in stature than he’d imagined, but the magnetism that had thousands staring at him on stage is still present. It’s as if Taemin projects his own gravitational field, and despite Jongin’s stern reminders to himself to not act like a stereotypical fan, he can feel his heart speeding up, palms becoming clammy.
But he’s here for a reason, with someone he’d never dreamed would give him a second glance, so he takes a deep breath and settles himself.
Jongin’s eyes flick up as he slowly draws him out, the weight of Taemin's cock grounding him as he moves forward to mouth at his balls. Taemin's lidded gaze is almost a physical presence, and his eyes close only when he eventually hits the back of Jongin’s throat, arching up with a moan when Jongin swallows around him. Taemin is quieter than anyone Jongin's been with, but that only makes him work harder to draw out every moan, every sigh that escapes Taemin making Jongin hungrier for more.
Jongin loses track of time, his entire existence seeming to hinge only on Taemin, the cock hitting the back of his throat with every slow thrust, the hands laced into his hair as his mouth is slowly fucked, and the friction of the rug against his knees. The murmured encouragements when Jongin sucks and licks is like a drug, making Jongin surrender entirely, letting Taemin guide his head as he pleases.
When Taemin comes, his cock is so far down Jongin's throat that his face is pressed against Taemin's crotch, and he gets a little lightheaded from lack of air. Jongin is somewhat disappointed, because Taemin's face when he's coming would probably have been a memory to be cherished for the rest of his life, and he's not sure if he'll get another chance. He withdraws slowly and sprawls on his back, resting on his elbows. His body twinges in multiple places, protesting the strain. Jongin automatically arches his back in a stretch, rolling his shoulders and neck back and stretching out all the way to his toes.
He opens his eyes to find Taemin watching him, eyes sparking. Jongin stills despite himself when Taemin gets up and steps closer, leaving the jacket on the couch. Jongin's feels a thrill run through him, but he's sure he can't be blamed because the legs that he'd been drooling over for all these months are now right in front of him. He licks his lips in anticipation, and can still taste the salty bitterness of Taemin’s release. Taemin seems to notice, and quirks a heated smile at Jongin as he drops down between his parted legs. Jongin’s breath stutters in his chest when Taemin puts his palm on the erection straining against his jeans and presses down, moving up to sprawl all along Jongin's body.
Jongin's heart is thudding in his chest, and he shifts against Taemin's hand with a breathless gasp. Taemin's legs are on top of his, keeping them spread, and his hand slips under Jongin's T-shirt to stroke along his stomach. "Off," Taemin demands, tugging at the fabric. His voice is noticeably lower than normal, and Jongin shudders as he complies.
Taemin strokes up along Jongin's naked side till his hand curls around the back of his neck, winding into his hair. Jongin arches up, baring his throat, and Taemin accepts the invitation, mouthing his neck and licking unhurriedly at the madly beating pulse at the base of his throat. Jongin curls his fingers into the plush rug under him to stop himself from grabbing at the body above, and shivers anew when Taemin's hand slips into his boxers and pulls.
Jongin's already so overwhelmed that he's teetering at the peak in an embarrassingly short period of time. It’s a complete surprise when the hand on his cock abruptly stops its ministrations, and Taemin's fingers tighten around the base. Jongin gasps and his hands grab onto Taemin's shoulders despite himself. "No, I-"
"Ssh," Taemin murmurs into Jongin's throat, kissing his way up, his grip almost punishing in contrast to his soft exhalations, and Jongin bites his lip, throwing his head to the side and whimpering as he lets Taemin kiss and lick along the sensitive area behind his ear.
Jongin is trembling when Taemin slows down and then gradually speeds up, so slowly that he almost screams when Taemin stops, again. "T-Taemin, I'm-"
"Patience," Taemin says, and Jongin can definitely make out the laughter in his voice, the jerk, even through his desperation. He curls his fingers into Taemin's shoulders till he feels his nails break skin and he hears a gasp above him. Taemin's fingers in his hair tighten, and he lifts his head till his lips are hovering over Jongin's, no less than a breath separating them.
Jongin parts his lips in anticipation, and drags his gaze up till it falls into Taemin's, pupils dark and blown in arousal. "Please," Jongin breathes, and Taemin's eyes flash a second before he drops his head down and kisses Jongin so fiercely he almost forgets that he's on the brink of orgasm, at least till Taemin's hips push against him, and his cock is pulled in the same rhythm as Taemin's tongue thrusts against his. It's like Taemin is fucking him, fucking his mouth again, and Jongin comes to the thought, so hard that he almost blacks out.
When he comes back to himself, Taemin is sprawled comfortably over him, and his hands are back in Jongin's hair, and Taemin's still kissing him, long and languid. Jongin wraps his arms around Taemin’s shoulders and kisses back.
“I'll see you around,” Taemin says, yawning. He props his head on his hand as he lounges on the bed with a half-smile, watching Jongin dress with lazy, sated eyes. Taemin is as stunning to look at in the morning light as he was at night, and Jongin still can’t bring himself to believe the night he’s had. He’s sore in the most pleasant of ways, and they’d only managed to sleep for a couple of hours - Taemin is startlingly inventive in bed, not to mention truly delighted by Jongin’s flexibility. After they’d recovered, Taemin had smiled impishly and tugged him into the bedroom, where he proceeded to take advantage of it in the best of ways. Jongin feels a pleasant buzz when he thinks back on it as he pulls on his pants and the shirt Taemin had let him use.
"Yeah, guess so," Jongin replies with a last glance back and leaves with a smile and a wave, shutting the door quietly behind him after his goodbyes. The shirt is oversized, and he curls his fingers into the sleeves as he walks away. It's one night, and it's not like they made any promises. Jongin doesn't expect anything, either. The night's been magical enough, and he knows what he's going to jerk off to for the next few weeks... months (years), but Taemin has a rep, and Jongin's just glad for the chance. He's not delusional enough to expect an encore.
Which is why he's thrown when Taemin notices him sometime later. Jongin's kept an eye on the concert schedules, and he's lucky to have gotten a ticket before it all sold out. He can't exactly go to all of Taemin's concerts - dancing doesn't pay him as much as he’d like yet, not to mention the difficulties of his own schedule, but he rewards himself when he has the extra cash, and the time.
It's a smaller venue, and he’s near the front which might be why Taemin sees him, face lighting up in a dazzling smile as he points directly at Jongin, making the crowd around him roar. Taemin then spends the entire concert after that throwing winks and flirting outrageously in his general direction, and Jongin's just glad no-one knows him, and that it's dark, or he'd be permanently red. He’s still startled when he sees Krystal wave enthusiastically and come up to him after the concert, laughing at him and winking when she leads him backstage.
The third time he isn't as surprised when a burly security type guy walks up to him after the concert. His escort's face is bland, but Jongin still feels his face burning when he's escorted to the back. He wonders when he turned into a stereotypical groupie and judges himself for all of two minutes. Then he's ushered into a room, and Taemin is striding forward, grinning sunnily at him, and Jongin forgets all the lectures he's just given himself and melts into Taemin's kiss, the familiar smell of sweat and the tang of Taemin's sharp cologne thrilling his senses.
After the sixth time, Jongin actually starts to wait for the (same) security guy (or Krystal) to find him. A few months later they're lounging on the bed after yet another concert, Taemin having indulgently watched Jongin demolish a tub of chicken. In between teasing him about growing feathers, and Jongin arguing back about Taemin’s lame puns, Taemin asks him if he’d be coming to the concert on a certain date. It’s the farthest they’ve gone with regards to planning their... encounters so far. Jongin frowns, thinking over his schedule.
"I can't," he says with honest regret. "I have a lead performance a few days after, so it'll be a rush of rehearsals."
Taemin hums, non-committal, and then sneaks his hand under the sheets, and soon Jongin is far too distracted to think any further.
Jongin is completely surprised on the day of the performance when he's finished his encore, and he comes back to a huge bouquet of flowers waiting in his shared dressing room.
"Wow," Hyoyeon says, peeking in. "Who've you impressed lately, ballet-boy?"
Jongin rolls his eyes and looks at the card. "There's no name." He frowns.
"Could be a potential sugar mommy. Or daddy," Hyoyeon leers, waggling her eyebrows as she leaves. "Better keep your eyes open."
Jongin rolls his eyes and turns to drop back into his chair, bending forward to take off the bandages on his ankle, sparing a last glance at the flowers. He hears the door opening behind him and assumes it's the other dancer he’s sharing the room with.
"Lay, can you support me with my back stretches?" Jongin's waist injury has healed for the most part, but he still gets twinges and there’s a chance of it seizing up if he's not careful. He looks up into the mirror and freezes.
"I'm not sure if I can be of much help," Taemin says, looking ludicrously out-of-place among all the odds and ends in the dressing room in his extremely well-cut (and screamingly expensive) suit. "But I'm game if you are."
Jongin stares for an extended beat, wondering wildly if he’s having a post-performance hallucination and whirls around, but Taemin is still standing there, as perfect a vision as he’s ever been. A dozen questions come to him, ranging from how on earth Taemin found him, wasn’t he supposed to be out of the country, and why is he even here. His brain and mouth seem to have a disconnect, however.
"You own clothes other than leather?" he asks stupidly.
Taemin looks down at himself, and cocks a resolute eyebrow when he looks back at Jongin. "I'm undercover and respectable. Don't spread it around."
Jongin snorts, because 'respectable' is the last word he'd associate with Lee Taemin, suit or not. It still doesn't stop him from looking particularly angelic, with his usual tangles of blond hair now dyed back to black (black!) and neatly combed back, with no trace of makeup on his face.
“What are you even doing here?” Jongin asks, striding forward for a swift hug. “How did you get backstage?”
“I met the most charming lady who escorted me here, but she got called away,” Taemin says, adroitly side-stepping the first question. “I didn’t know I had fans among the serious dancer crowd,” he marvels, and Jongin frowns, because what is he, cooked shrimp? Taemin sees it, because he amends his statement to: “Well, other than you.”
Jongin eyes him. “Taemin…” he starts, and Taemin pouts in mock-offense.
“What, like you’re the only one who can be a groupie?”
“I’m not a-” Jongin hisses and then stops short, because technically speaking…
“Yes?” Taemin asks innocently. Jongin glares at him, affronted, but can't bring himself to mind too much when Taemin huffs in laughter, the sound ringing out through the room.
“This is ridiculous,” Jongin insists. “You’re ridiculous. If someone sees you-”
“Are you ashamed of me, Mr. Classical Dancer?” Taemin says, grinning, and brings a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”
Jongin sighs.
“And I think someone already took some photos of me, so don’t be surprised if you see some of my fans here later,” Taemin says, and glances behind him like he’s confirming that there’s no screaming fans sneaking up for autographs or something equally ridiculous.
Jongin stifles a laugh, because, well. All publicity is good publicity after all. “The director will probably be thanking you for all the extra seats sold, then.” Jongin shakes his head, still in some disbelief. “I’m serious, though, this isn’t exactly your scene. Did you even like it?” His voice comes out surprisingly small, and he internally winces. He hadn’t meant to blurt out that last bit.
Taemin’s eyes soften as he steps closer, bracing his arms against the table on either side of Jongin. “You were wonderful,” he murmurs against Jongin’s lips. “I loved everything. Let me take you to dinner and you can tell me some more about it. There was that bit in the middle with the three ladies that I didn’t quite get because I was too busy staring at you.”
Jongin laughs a little, and groans, partly because he still can’t believe this is happening, and partly because Taemin has the worst timing in the world. “Taemin, I’m exhausted. And sweaty, and gross, and-”
“That’s all right,” Taemin says and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “We can order in.”
“I’m not gonna be very scintillating company though,” Jongin warns, slumping against him.
“We’ll see after we get some chicken in you,” Taemin says, and Jongin drops his head to Taemin’s suit-clad shoulder and tries to smother his unmanly giggling. “And you can thank me for the flowers properly. Drop me some spoilers for your next project too, maybe.”
“When did you develop an interest in dance?” Jongin mutters.
“Oh, it’s a fairly recent obsession,” Taemin replies, voice light, and Jongin feels his face heating up even as he hides a smile against Taemin’s neck. “I’ve got a newfound appreciation for... modern jazz," he says, leering, and Jongin has no idea how he manages to make those perfectly normal words sound so filthy.
"It's contemporary!" he corrects half-heartedly, and allows himself to be dragged back into a kiss.
-