It's your turn to hurt me

[pins_and_wheels]

Title: It's your turn to hurt me
Pairing: Jinki/Taemin
Rating: NC-17
Warning: s&m-esque, unbeta'd
Summary: Taemin isn't sure whether he's being rewarded or punished.

It wasn’t easy to piss Lee Jinki off. His disposition was naturally calm and he had acted as shepherd to four strong willed young men for three years - by this point, his nerves had been completely desensitized. On the rare occasion something managed to rile him, he usually could bring himself back down by taking a few deep breaths or a nap or treating himself to a bucket of fried chicken.

But he found his steady composure did not apply in all situations; namely those that involved his boyfriend and a certain back-up dancer with wandering hands and overly appreciative eyes. Jinki didn’t think of himself as the jealous type but watching Taemin as he had that day, practicing routines with some no-name older boy had triggered something that felt violent inside him.

It was like a tic, the way he watched them in the studio, the more he tried to think himself out of suspicion and worry the more worried and suspicious he became - trailing back to the dance studio obsessively, interrupting his own training to spy on his boyfriend getting chatted up.

In his defense, Taemin was hardly doing much to help the situation - dancing with the boy and the other back-ups, leaning alluringly against the mirror as he talked with him, laughing at the other boy’s jokes just as loudly as he laughed at Jinki’s. Worse still, when Jinki dashed back to the studio at their lunch break it was to find Taemin and the bastard in question both gone - he spent the hour too anxious to feed himself, his stomach burning with acid and a spiking fury.

A fire had been lit inside Jinki. It hadn’t dissipated at all by the time he got back to the dorm, later than the others - he was still too angry to articulate his feeling further than holding up both hands to back Kibum off. He tried to settle before confronting Taemin but his usual methods to calm down proved useless - his attempts at deep breathing were shaky, he was too heated to nap and any food that came his way he would sooner chuck at the wall then put in his mouth.

He walked into his and Taemin’s shared bedroom still trying to convince himself he would be able to keep his head and discuss his feelings like a reasonable adult. He was sure he was overreacting and a mere sentence of reassurance from his boyfriend would set everything right again.

He closed the door steadily - yes, no doubt he was being foolish.

And Taemin looked so charming with his long hair thrown up into a messy ponytail and floppy pajama shirt that couldn’t seem to stay on his shoulders. He was so lovely and delicate; Jinki knew nothing that pretty could ever deliberately hurt his feelings. Jinki’s stomach clenched at the sight of all that leg curled under the desk, and then turned to leave when he realized what Taemin was doing.

“Oh look, here’s Jinki-hyung now.”

Taemin tilted his computer screen so Jinki could see the face of the same back-up dancer he had been brooding over all day waving up to him.

“Sungwook-hyung was calling to see if some of us wanted to go to a b-boy perfor - hey, what the fuck, Jinki?!”

Jinki kept his hand on the top of the notebook, thwarting Taemin’s attempt to reopen it. Incredulously, Taemin glared up at him.

“Hyung, seriously, what the fuck is your problem? That was so rude.”

Jinki forced himself to back up a step when he realized he was almost too angry to form words.

“You’re in your fucking underwear, Taemin. That’s my fucking problem.”

“Are you kidding?”

Jinki walked away, ripping off his jacket and barely resisting the urge to whip it at his lover. No, he wasn’t kidding.

“He couldn’t see what I was wearing.”

“You’re not wearing anything, that shirt practically shows your nipples!”

Taemin scoffed and turned back to the laptop, flipping it open again.

“He’s just a hyung, Jinki. You didn’t have to-“

He broke off when he heard a crash and spun around in his chair - Jinki had thrown his gym bag, knocking off half of the contents of their shared night table to the floor.

“He’s just a hyung?”

“Yes, Jesus Christ-“

“And what the hell was I before we started fucking?”

“That’s different-“

“The fuck it is. Whatever Taemin.” Jinki was practically spitting, he’d never felt so furious with his dongsaeng.
“Enjoy your hyung.”

He was halfway to the door when he felt the familiar hold of Taemin’s hand around his arm. He glared at it, and then up along the younger boy’s skinny arm and then at his legs sticking out of his slutty nightwear and it was like Jinki’s blood pressure couldn’t climb high enough.

“Stop, Jinki. You’re being an idiot.”

He looked at Taemin, appearing surprised and condescending and so fucking beautiful with wide eyes, curled lashes, rosy cheeks. And Jinki saw red because even though Taemin was dressed like a little girl he was smirking at him like a little bitch, he could practically see the coy dripping from his thick pink lips down his chin and Jinki wanted to wipe all of it away with his hands, shove it back into Taemin’s mouth. Force-feed him.

And before Jinki knew what he was doing he was throwing the smaller body up against their door and feeling so fucking good when Taemin’s smirk broke with a genuinely shocked gasp, whimpering at the pain from his head smacking the wood.

“Jinki-?”

“Fuck you, Taemin.”

“You’re completely overreacting.”

“Yeah? Getting upset when my boyfriend vanishes with another guy who is blatantly looking to fuck him-“

“Hyung, let go. You know I would never want anyone besides you. I only wan-“

He choked on his words when he felt Jinki hands under his shirt, finger nails blunt against the skin of his hips as his underwear was ripped off, forcefully enough to burn the sensitive skin on the backs of his knees. He whimpered an “ow” and reached down to rub the hurt better but Jinki shoved back into the door just as hard as before, hard enough to bruise, and Taemin was like a scratched CD of skipping ows, trying to squirm free of the two vices on his biceps. Jinki squeezed harder.

“Prove it.”

Jinki couldn’t see Taemin as he was now - confused and slightly frightened and pinned - looking down at his boyfriend he saw only his smirk, laughing with his older dancer, laughing at Jinki as they flirted and Taemin smirked. Jinki saw Taemin batting his eyes as he offered the boy his number, telling him to call, telling him when to call so that Jinki wouldn’t be around.

“Hyung, you’re-”

“You were acting like a slut today.”

“What?” Taemin tried to jerk free, only managing to smack his head a second time, “Screw you. I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you dancing with that shithead and then you disappeared with him to fuck knows where to do fuck knows what and then we come home and the first thing you do is strip and call him.”

“You’re delusional. You’re an idiot.”

Jinki shoved his knee between Taemin’s thighs, which opened with easy familiarity and worked his hand between the globes of Taemin’s ass. He grated his finger, dry save a slight clamminess from the angry fever that had taken his entire body hostage, scraping it hard against Taemin’s entrance, checking for evidence of recent use. Taemin moaned and arched from friction, his face perfectly halved between pleasure and disbelief.

“Hyung-?!”

“So you didn’t let him fuck you?”

“Of course not-“

“Then what did you do?”

“Nothing.” Taemin’s voice cracked when Jinki ground his erection into him, his own hardness instinctively twitched in welcome.

Taemin lost his footing as he was shoved back toward their bed and all the air rushed from his lungs when he hit the sheets like they were a hardwood floor. He couldn’t recall Jinki having ever shoved him before in anger - even when they were joking the older boy usually kept his hands to himself.

Jinki stood between Taemin’s knees and the way they parted for him instinctively even as Taemin shook his head, it rubbed him just as right as if Taemin had reached out and wrapped his tiny hands around Jinki’s cock.

“Hyung, wait - we should talk about this.”

“Roll over.” Jinki nudged him when he didn’t move quick enough, “Roll over and hold still.”

Being on his stomach was unfamiliar ground for Taemin - they almost exclusively fucked facing each other, loving gaze filled fucks - and he clutched a pillow to have something to hold onto since Jinki’s shoulders were inaccessible. There was a distinct vulnerability not knowing where Jinki would touch next, but his body felt physically bound to look forward and stay still. Jinki had told him not to move and the compulsion to obey that Taemin was overcome by stemmed from somewhere deep inside him, the impulse having until then hidden in a part of himself he hadn’t known existed. He could feel the need twist low in his belly.

He jerked when his shirt was shoved to his shoulders, his face pushed down into the pillow as his hips were hiked up. He was still adjusting to the change in position when he felt two oiled fingers moving up-and-down his crack and then further, into him, scissoring almost before he had a chance to shout out into the pillow. The way Jinki was moving, using the force of his entire body to grind his hand into Taemin and pausing barely the length of a breath before adding a third finger made Taemin think his boyfriend might actually be trying to crawl inside of him. Instead of pushing back against Jinki as he usually did Taemin just concentrated on not getting shoved across the bed and into the wall, gripping the sheets with his fingers and nails and bracing his knees as best he could with Jinki’s hips battering between them.

“Fuck!”

Taemin shouted into the room and kept shouting, strings of fuck and hyung and fuckfuckfuck wait oh god hyung spilled from his lips along with spit and incoherent groans. Jinki was four fingers deep and the dancer couldn’t decide which sensation was more consuming, the constant striking of his prostate or the acute burn of being stretched so widely so abruptly. He felt tears at his eyes but whether it was a reaction to the pleasure or pain he couldn’t be sure. He was quickly being driven to a place where he couldn’t be sure of anything; not where he was or his own name, much less whether or not he was being rewarded or punished. He knew only one thing, could think of only-

“Jinki. Hyung.”

Jinki looked down on Taemin, his spine twisted up and arching as he moved the majority of most of one hand inside him. The noises Taemin was making came out continuously, the only shift being the tone they took, bouncing back and forth between strained whimpers and full-throated moaning when Jinki treated his prostate. But Jinki’s ears were still not quite on properly, his own jealousy was playing louder than any of Taemin’s groans, and the ringing need to show Taemin exactly how and why he was Jinki's and Jinki’s alone was sounding off siren-like inside his head. Over all that noise, it didn’t occur to him to be gentle when he tore his hand free.

“Fuck!” Taemin shouted again, this time followed by panting and curling up that made him seem like prey, given up and collapsed after a hard chase.

Jinki loomed and pulled at him, painting himself over Taemin’s shaking back so that their sweat could bind them and neither had time to say so much as a single word before he was pushing in. One hand down between them as guide, Jinki eased his cock in several inches and then bucked up the rest of the way, pushing Taemin’s head down so he could shout himself as hoarse as he pleased into the mattress. Jinki used one of the sharp, jutting vertebrae at the top of Taemin’s neck like a bit, one hand in his hair and the other arm down low around his waist to keep the angle just right - fucking into him with barely any mind for rhythm save fast and deep and hard - harder.

Taemin couldn’t handle the suddenness - sharp ache playing background music to his building euphoria as Jinki pounded into him so completely unrelentingly. Pitiless when Taemin’s voice broke, merciless with his teeth biting in so incredibly deep, as if his pinching fingers weren’t enough to keep Taemin in place. He felt at the absolute mercy to Jinki’s body above his, the bigger boy was everywhere at once, turning Taemin as he liked and working his skin like it was made of clay.

And the heat of it - all the friction creating a blinding heat that spiked at every direct slamming of Taemin’s prostate.

Taemin came faster than he usually did - too quickly to have time to decide if he was supposed to be coming at all, if that much was even on Jinki’s mind. But come he did, his orgasm as much a physical assault as everything else had been that night. It crashed into him like a electrifying wave with just as powerful an undertow of burning ember, which his body was yanked into and thrown around and he was able to maintain only the vaguest awareness of Jinki having to hold him still in order to fuck out his own climax. Taemin had never come so violently - and the numbing aftermath that sunk deep beneath his skin was just enough to keep him from outright sobbing as Jinki continued to plow into him.

Jinki held fast to Taemin as his body quaked, the grip around his cock almost crushing as he came and Jinki was powerless to not follow. Taemin’s knees gave out at the beginning of his own climax and so Jinki held him up by the hips, unable to mind his nails or the bind of his fingers or how forcefully he pushed and pulled as he rode out his orgasm, biting onto the angry red spot that his teeth had made a home of to keep from shouting.

Minutes later when the sweat between them was starting to cool, Jinki rolled off and out of Taemin. His lover was entirely limp, the sight of his worn out body pushing Jinki the first few steps back toward his senses. He looked Taemin over, from his head still held so that his face was in the sheets, down his back over sores from teeth and knobby spine red from its meeting with the wall, down to Taemin’s ass, where the come was leaving pink in a way Jinki had never seen before.

It took awhile for him to comprehend. He’d made Taemin bleed.

The reality of Jinki’s actions slammed into him all at once, feeling as intensely horrified with himself as he’d felt angry with Taemin before, hands practically shaking with it as he turned Taemin over like he might disintegrate.

“Taemin, you’re bleeding. I’m sorry - I hurt you.”

On his back Taemin blinked his eyes unshut. He was disoriented, confused as he watched Jinki bend over and kiss his messy stomach.

“Taemin, Taemin - I’m so sorry. I’m so - I don’t know came over me I couldn’t I wasn’t thinking - I’m sorry, baby. You’re - say something. Please -“

He tried to push himself to a seated position but his arms were shaking too fiercely, instead he flopped onto his side reaching until Jinki pulled him up.

Taemin touched Jinki’s chest as though he’d never been allowed to touch it before. He pulled the loose hair band in his hair the rest of the way free, taking stock of the way every part of his body had been left either buzzing or numb. He put his fingers in some of his release on one hip and then he touched Jinki’s chest with his pads and nails.

“Again.” He sounded rough and used from screaming.

“What?”

“Again. Just like just now.” He managed to roll onto Jinki, tossing fabric burned knees beside either thigh.

“Come on, hyung. Fuck me like that again.”

Jinki held his hips still and looked at him like he’d suddenly switched to speaking a foreign language. He was
having trouble seeing much else beside the small amount of blood that had come from Taemin’s ass.

“What’s wrong, Jinki? Not angry enough anymore?” He arched and fisted Jinki’s hair, twisting unhesitatingly.
He bit Jinki’s earlobe until he winced.

“I made you bleed.”

Jinki felt Taemin shudder.

“What if I told you that I lied? I knew that back-up dancer wants me because he told me so when we were practicing alone earlier.”

Jinki hands tightened around Taemin’s waist, squeezing fiercely, and Taemin arched to test his grip.

“He kept touching me, around my waist and hips, right where you’re holding now. And he kept telling me I danced so well and that he’d never seen someone move like I could move.”

Taemin smirked as he realized Jinki was trying to deep breathe himself back into relaxation - trying and failing if the rigid line of his shoulders was anything to go by.

“It got so bad I had to tell him I was seeing someone. And he said, it was funny actually - he said he doubted one would be enough for me and that if I ever needed more then I knew where I could find him.”

He kissed Jinki, and they both realized it was the first time that night they had done so. The kiss was soft and sweet, like Taemin’s voice when he spoke.

“I told him to fuck off, obviously. But if it doesn’t bother you then I guess next time I might have to take him up on his offer. Won’t I, hyung?”

Jinki stopped trying to breathe.

Taemin’s kiss was returned to him nearly unrecognizable, all teeth and tongue and fisted hair. They moaned into each other as their bodies began to tense, once more slipping into that newly discovered state of mind that left Jinki feeling like there was lava under his skin and Taemin with putty for muscles.

“You’ve been acting like a slut.”

Jinki’s voice was cool and relaxed as he pushed Taemin off him into the ruined bedcovers, slowly bending each leg into Taemin’s chest and forcing Taemin’s arms across them, snug under each knee. Taemin was deeply exposed, even more so when Jinki fixed himself between the arranged limbs, spreading them as he leaned over Taemin’s chest to kiss him.

Jinki bit his lips, hard, chewed them until Taemin whined.

“You’ve been so bad, you make me need to hurt you.”

And Taemin whined, again, and then whimpered and yelled and screamed as they lost the place between very good and bad and fuckfuckfuckfuck oh god hyung no more please oh god yes more.