Chapter Text
When Jisoo opens the door to the apartment, he's greeted with silence. The door closes with a soft click behind him as he slips off his shoes and shrugs off his coat. He shivers a little; he turned the heater off when he left for work in the morning, a habit he's never bothered to break even though he doesn't have to worry about money quite as much anymore, and he's still wearing his thin hospital scrubs.
It's dark outside already, but the city skyline is dazzling with light that spills into the apartment through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. He flicks on the lights anyway, but doesn't draw the curtains – no one can see this high up. The stunning view is matched by the rest of the apartment, all sleek edges and gleaming floors, but he doubts he would've picked out this place on his own, as much as he appreciates it. He's never been the kind of person to treat himself, would never have contemplated living in a penthouse apartment in the city center beyond a passing thought. His lover, though, certainly has no such qualms about lavishing money on him.
At the thought of his lover, Jisoo scans the apartment briefly, though he knows already that Jeonghan isn't here. Jisoo's a little disappointed, but it's not unusual. He feels a slight flicker of resentment at Jeonghan's flightiness, but tamps down on it a second later. Jeonghan doesn't owe him anything. He could've gotten away with doing much less than he already has. The fancy jacket that Jisoo now wears every day, the jewelry that glimmers from where it's tied to his pants strings, the apartment itself – all of them gifts from Jeonghan. Jeonghan has more than enough money to spare, of course, and Jisoo makes a decent amount as well, but his head still reels whenever he shifts and feels the silver necklace against his chest, tucked under his scrubs.
He pulls off his shirt on the way up the stairs to his bedroom – his and Jeonghan's, but mostly his – and discards his pants in the adjoining bathroom, letting both fall into the laundry basket as he steps into the shower. The warm spray is glorious against his sore muscles, his entire body exhausted after a twelve-hour shift. For a while, he just stands under the spray with his eyes closed, letting the water trickle down over his body. It's a luxury he was wary about indulging in back when he still lived in a worn-down apartment in a much shadier part of town, a sentiment that carried over in the first few weeks he lived here, too accustomed to trying to skimp where he could to pay off his loans from medical school.
Jisoo has just stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp and a towel tied around his waist, when he hears the front door open. He startles even though he knows who it is; only three people have the key to this apartment besides him and of the three, only one ever comes around. He quickly discards his towel and tugs on a loose pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt or underwear. He'll probably end up losing the pants in a few minutes, too, but he knows he'll feel awkward greeting his lover completely naked.
He steps out of the bedroom and quickly descends the spiral stairs down to the main floor of the apartment. Jeonghan's mouth curves upwards when he sees him, an appreciative smirk that goes with the glint in his eyes as they linger on Jisoo's bare chest. His eyes rove over Jisoo's body and settle on his face, dark and entrancing and brimming with desire.
"Sweetheart," Jeonghan says, almost purrs, his voice low and smooth. Jeonghan's voice has always been the first thing to captivate Jisoo, lilting and melodic and perfectly assured, winding through Jisoo's thoughts and refusing to relinquish hold of his mind. Jisoo loses himself into that voice over and over again, Jeonghan's voice and his dark, dark eyes and the slight smile on Jeonghan's face. He doesn't need to say anything else before Jisoo is striding towards him, into his embrace.
They're the same height, but there's something about Jeonghan that always makes him seem like more. Jeonghan is effortlessly confident and infallibly charming in everything he does, from the way he trails his gloved hands down Jisoo's back with deliberate purpose to the way he smiles at him a moment before he leans in.
Jeonghan kisses him long and slow but demanding nonetheless, everything about him as enigmatic as it has been since the day they first crossed paths. His lips are soft but his mouth is hot and insistent. He swipes his tongue over Jisoo's bottom lip and Jisoo parts his lips obediently, feeling as if he is inhaling Jeonghan in with each snatch of breath, drinking in his presence, intoxicated on the feeling of his mouth on Jisoo's and his leather-clad hands trailing down Jisoo's back. Jeonghan's touch isn't rough but it's insistent, pulling Jisoo closer and closer to him until Jisoo's exposed skin is pressed up against the expensive, silken material of Jeonghan's suit. It's a stark contrast to the feeling of Jisoo's own clothes, his worn sweatpants loose and soft and barely clinging to his hips.
"Jeonghan," Jisoo breathes, just to say his name, just to feel grounded to the present when everything about Jeonghan makes him heady, dizzy with exhilaration. "Ah," he gasps when Jeonghan slips two fingers under the waistband of his pants, teasing at the bare skin underneath.
"Expecting me?" Jeonghan asks, sounding pleased with the discovery.
"The opposite," Jisoo manages to say as Jeonghan fondles his ass. "I was showering – you interrupted me –"
Jeonghan makes a sound of contemplation and tugs Jisoo's waistband down, letting his pants pool down at his feet. He's completely naked in front of Jeonghan, who is still effortlessly composed in his exquisitely tailored black suit. "I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry."
It's a bit of a routine for them – Jeonghan disappears for days, sometimes weeks at a time, but always comes back with his touch so fervent and passionate that it leaves Jisoo breathless. They've fucked in every room, just about every surface in the apartment, sometimes with Jisoo on top and sometimes Jeonghan, but always with Jeonghan sharp and composed with his dark eyes gleaming as Jisoo falls apart under his ministrations. There's something thrilling about it, losing himself in the mesmerizing gleam of Jeonghan's eyes and the silken tones of his commands.
"Bedroom?" Jisoo suggests when Jeonghan pulls briefly away to tuck a strand of Jisoo's hair behind his ear. He shivers a little at the feeling of leather brushing his face, knows what it implies, but it's nothing more than a reflex because he's known since the beginning what Jeonghan is.
"Mm." Jeonghan leans forwards, his breath stirring Jisoo's hair as he murmurs into his ear. "I was thinking I might fuck you right here."
Jisoo swallows, feeling a flush creep up his cheeks that must show on his face, because Jeonghan laughs, low and amused. He feels Jeonghan's laughter vibrate through his chest as he tries to unbutton his suit jacket, exasperated with the number of layers Jeonghan has on. The slippery material skids beneath his fingers, all luxury and casual extravagance.
"Go prepare yourself," Jeonghan orders. Jisoo could resist, if he wanted to. They've had sex with Jisoo defiant, playful, with Jeonghan smirking under a mask of obedience while Jisoo straddles him, but today, he's more than willing to follow Jeonghan's orders.
In the time it takes for him to return with a half-empty bottle of lubricant, Jeonghan has made quick work of his clothes. His gloves are gone, revealing slim fingers, and so is his shirt, so that his lean torso is on display. The city lights illuminate his face, drawing attention to the elegant curve of his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, the graceful arch to his neck. Even mostly-naked, Jeonghan retains every bit of his easy arrogance. The ever-present gleam in his eye is all the more captivating with the alluring curve of his lips and the lines of his naked body.
Jeonghan usually likes to tease Jisoo and Jisoo is always up to quip back at him, but today, he doesn't do anything more than make an appreciative noise before he’s pressing Jisoo up against the glass. Jisoo inhales sharply – the contrast is startling, the intensity of Jeonghan's warm body and the shockingly cold surface of the glass against his exposed skin. Jeonghan cups his face in one hand, the other deliberately tracing down the center of Jisoo's chest, moving down until his hand finds its way between Jisoo's legs.
"Ah – Jeonghan," Jisoo gasps, his cock stiffening in Jeonghan's grasp.
"Say my name again."
"Jeonghan," Jisoo repeats, letting his voice pitch upwards, not bothering to control the want that seeps into his voice. He's rewarded with a low groan from Jeonghan and he feels Jeonghan hardening from where they're pressed together, making him flush with satisfaction.
"Turn around," Jeonghan says.
Jisoo turns so that he's facing the glass walls, looking out over the city, with his back to Jeonghan. He's barely settled in his new position when Jeonghan is thumbing his ass cheeks apart, drawing out a gasp that turns into a moan in his throat.
"Ah – you're impatient today," Jisoo remarks breathlessly.
"Rough day. Ask me later."
A rough day for Jisoo means a never-ending stream of patients and ill-tempered families, means keeping an impassive face while a headache throbs at the base of his skull. Sometimes, with Jeonghan, it means he's exasperated with his subordinates, business partners, annoyed with the state of his company and the company he keeps – but when Jeonghan comes back to the apartment with his gloves on and a cold smile on his face, an aloofness to his features and a dangerous glint in his eye, it means something very different. It's never bothered Jisoo as much as it probably should, especially with Jeonghan's slick fingers pressing against the entrance of his hole.
Jisoo's palms are flattened against the window, his skin leaving smudges behind. His breath fogs the glass as he gasps. His legs quiver as Jeonghan fingers him roughly, threatening to give way beneath him. It's barely enough, Jisoo already knows from experience. Even when Jeonghan takes his time to thoroughly work him open, there's always a stretch and an accompanying burn when Jeonghan enters him, and Jeonghan definitely isn't taking his time today.
Jeonghan is big. Jisoo hisses through clenched teeth as Jeonghan sinks into him. He isn't the biggest Jisoo's ever taken, but he's certainly somewhere up there. They both stay motionless for a few seconds, both their bodies tense as they adjust to the feeling of being locked together. Jisoo's forehead is pressed against the glass, a cold circle against his skin. He stares out over the city as he tries to catch his breath and suppress the sounds that rise up in his throat when Jeonghan shifts inside him.
It's nearly midnight but the city is bustling with life, the buildings illuminated in little bright squares, the shopfronts lining the streets only pinpricks of light from this high up, streaks of light flashing past from the headlights of cars. The late-night city-goers are miniscule dots on the streetlamp-lined paths. Jisoo can barely see them from up here and he knows there's no way they can see him, either, but it still makes his cock twitch and a flush spread over his body, the thought of being put on display to the entire city sending a thrill through him.
Jeonghan seems to have the same idea. "Look at that, sweetheart," he says in Jisoo's ear, his voice silken smooth and very low, satisfaction rippling through it. "Admiring my city?"
Jisoo manages a laugh which chokes off into a gasp as he shifts involuntarily on Jeonghan's cock. "Your city, is it?"
He feels Jeonghan's smirk on his skin when Jeonghan turns his face to mouth at Jisoo's neck. "It’s my city to the people who matter," he breathes, his breath warm on Jisoo's neck. It makes Jisoo's body quiver in Jeonghan's arms.
Jisoo lets out a high-pitched cry when Jeonghan snaps his hips against him. There's nothing to grab onto, nothing to stop his trembling legs from collapsing beneath him, and he's grateful for Jeonghan’s possessive grip on his body pinning him up against the glass. Jeonghan's chin is locked over Jisoo's shoulder, his breaths turning into pants as he quickens his rhythm. Jisoo turns his head to the side and Jeonghan meets him halfway, their mouths colliding in a clash of tongues and teeth, hot and wet and searching. Jeonghan nips at Jisoo's lower lip even as he thrusts faster into Jisoo, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through Jisoo that curls low in his stomach.
"Mine." Jeonghan's breath is hot against Jisoo's ear. "Let the entire city know you're mine."
There's a growl in his voice that Jisoo makes a note to ask him about later; Jeonghan has always been possessive, but there's something fierce and cold to him today that is at odds with the way he winds his arms around Jisoo's chest and presses their bodies together so that every inch of them is touching. Jisoo opens his mouth to respond but a moment later, Jeonghan rams into his prostate and it turns into a drawn-out moan.
Pleasure builds in him, so quickly and intense that he can't help but let out a high-pitched keen. Jeonghan's thrusts are less controlled now, unrestrained and uneven but still slamming into Jisoo's prostate with every snap of his hips. Jisoo slips his hand down to grasp at his aching hardness and flinches when his palm, cold from the glass, makes contact with his cock. His fervent arousal is more persistent, though, and he closes his hand around his aching length, biting down on his lower lip as Jeonghan fucks him more and more roughly. He knows he's on the edge, fragmenting into an electrifying blend of pleasure and pain.
He comes apart in Jeonghan's hold, streaking the glass with white, a moan tearing its way from his throat. Jeonghan's thrusts stutter and still as he finds his release in Jisoo, spilling into his hole. Neither of them say anything, both of them panting for breath, but Jeonghan's touch on Jisoo's body as his legs give way say over and over again, mine.
--
The first time Jisoo met Jeonghan, he was in a much less refined part of the city.
Jisoo was warned that crime ran rampant in the city center before he moved, but everyone had said the same thing when he'd headed off to university in a big city, then medical school a few years later. He'd lived in big cities his entire life and though he'd never been in this one before, the ever-present lights and busy streets, the persistent cacophony of the city-goers and cars, the buildings that stretched towards the sky and loomed over the streets were all familiar to him. In any case, he wasn't about to turn down such a lucrative job as an emergency doctor in one of the largest hospitals in the city. He could hardly believe that it had been offered to him to begin with, as young and recently-graduated as he was, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip away from him.
Rent in the city was, is, and probably always has been obscenely expensive. As well-paying as Jisoo's job was, he still had to pay off his tuition loans. He lived in a dilapidated apartment with flickering lights and water that could sometimes be coaxed to be warm and thin walls that only seemed to amplify the somewhat concerning bangs and thumps his neighbours made, but it was as affordable as it got in the city, and close enough for him to walk to the hospital, if he woke up early enough. It was clear enough that it wasn't a fantastic part of the city to live in. The flickering streetlamps and potholed roads were indication enough of that, even if it weren't for the suspiciously low rent. For the first few weeks, though, he hadn't had any troubles, even if he stumbled bleary-eyed into his apartment long after the sun had set after a long, tiring shift.
It was gratifying, finally working after near-endless years of studying, but exhausting all the same. It was his second twelve-hour shift in as many days and he was doing his best not to blink or stop moving in case he simply puddled onto the ground and fell asleep. Until that day, he had stuck to the main roads, where cars flashed past him and passersby strolled quickly by him, engrossed in their own late-night business. Even though he walked alone, as fast as he could persuade his tired limbs to move, the sound and bustle of the city always accompanied him on his way.
Maybe exhaustion had something to do with his decision, or maybe his carefulness had worn off after weeks of nothing of note. In either case, moments later, he was cutting through a dimly-lit street devoid of people, where the shop fronts on either side were dark and motionless. The sounds of the city seemed to fade into the distance so that the only noise came from his footsteps, reverberating hollowly in the empty street.
Jisoo felt a flicker of unease at the uncharacteristic emptiness and briefly considered heading back the way he came, but shook it off as paranoia. It was just a street, not some shadowy alleyway, and he was hardly a target. He was wearing his beat-up old coat over his scrubs and he had no jewelry on his fingers or wrists because of his job. He wasn't exactly someone worth mugging. Even if he was, he'd be able to hand over his wallet without much trouble; there was barely more than spare change in there, anyway.
All the same, he quickened his step, suddenly much more awake.
Suddenly, Jisoo caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, his eyes darting back and forth along the street. His steps faltered as unease built inside of him, sour and chilling.
A sharp crack shattered the silence. Jisoo stumbled backwards, staggering, and maybe he would've screamed if his breath hadn't choked in his throat because he knew that sound was unmistakeably a gunshot. It rang through his ears on and on and on, turning his shock into panic into horror, only intensifying when he saw someone crumple to the ground only feet away from him.
"Are you all right?"
Perhaps it was instinct that made the words spill from his mouth. His voice echoed strangely, in the cold street or in his ears, he wasn't sure. Everything about him felt numb, except for his heart, thumping frantically in his chest. There was no response from the shape on the ground except for a low groan, a sound that made Jisoo's mouth go dry and fear streak icy-cold through his chest. He took a half-step over to the person, torn between helping and fleeing.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Jisoo started, his eyes widening as he realized there was someone else in the street, half-hidden by shadow, standing over the person on the ground. But he could hear the ragged breathing of the person on the ground, another pained groan, and he abandoned all caution to scramble over to the person on the ground.
Blood bloomed from a hole in their chest, which was heaving as they fought for air. Their face was pale and contorted in pain, their eyes wild, darting between the figure standing above them and Jisoo's face. Jisoo worked in the operating room, he'd spent years in medical school and shadowed trauma doctors and surgeons, he'd seen much worse than this before. But it had always been against the sterile white of a hospital room, with tools on hand and associates nearby, knowing that there was something he could do.
Here, there was nothing. His hands were empty, moving helplessly, and he knew that there was nothing he could do that would staunch the flow of blood running in a red river down the person's chest.
"You're – you're going to be okay," Jisoo managed to say, stumbling over the platitude because he knew it was a lie but he had to do something. He turned to the person standing over them, watching with vague interest. "The hospital's not far," he said, a pleading note creeping into his voice. "If we hurry, maybe we can –"
"Don't bother. He's already as good as dead."
A smooth voice, cool, disinterested. Jisoo felt a flare of emotion, somewhere between desperation and anger.
"I have to do something."
But he knew it was futile. He'd seen death before, he knew what was coming when the man's eyes, alight with panic, start to dim. The hand clutching at his chest slackened and fell to the ground. The only sound in the street was Jisoo's breathing, harsh and uneven.
The person standing over them broke the silence.
"It's for the best, really. Even if you pulled off a miracle, I'd shoot him again as soon as you discharged him."
His tone, matter-of-fact and calm, didn't match his callous words. Jisoo turned to the person, rising to his feet, his legs shaky but his hands remarkably still. Doctor's hands, he thought a little wildly, prompting him to look down at the stranger's hands. They were clad in elegant gloves made of some dark, skin-tight material, the glint of gunmetal stark against it.
Jisoo's throat was dry, but his voice came out unexpectedly clear. "You killed him."
The man inclined his head. "I did. And you're not going to tell anyone, or I'll kill you, too."
There was something about him that made Jisoo know instinctively that it wasn't an idle threat – not a threat at all, just a cold statement of fact. The man was chillingly calm, a jarring contrast to the dead body at his feet and the gun he still had in his hand. His black suit was clearly expensive and tailored perfectly, clinging to his lean build and calling attention to his flawless posture, somehow exuding easy arrogance without any movement. Jisoo might have thought he was an aristocrat, if it weren't for the ringing in his ears and the dead man at his feet, if it weren't for the cold gleam in the man's dark eyes and the cruel mirth in the twist to his lips.
"Who are you," Jisoo whispered.
The man laughed once, low and quiet but rippling through the street.
"You're new to the city, aren't you?"
Jisoo didn't respond. He didn't think the man was looking for an answer, either. Whatever emotion was on Jisoo's face seemed to amuse him, because the corners of his lips lifted very slightly.
"This is my city," he said, his voice slipping into Jisoo's mind and clinging there, until every single one of Jisoo's thoughts was tinged with it. "I run the criminal underground. I deal with traitors like him," his voice darkened with anger as he flicked his gaze towards the body, "the way I want to."
Jisoo didn't say a word. He couldn't seem to make a sound, couldn't seem to move at all, even when the man turned his dark gaze onto Jisoo's face and smiled. It was a charming smile, alluring under different circumstances, and Jisoo couldn't help but notice a little hysterically that the man was undeniably one of the most attractive people he had ever seen.
"Stay out of trouble, sweetheart," he said softly, and it was almost a purr. "I'd hate for someone as pretty as you to get hurt."
--
Well, Jisoo thinks to himself. He's certainly failed spectacularly on that front.
He's curled up against Jeonghan on the couch, Jeonghan's arms entwined loosely around him and their legs tangled together. Both of them are still naked and their skin is a little damp from cleaning up. The flat-screen TV mounted on the wall is playing some movie, but neither of them are paying much attention to it.
"Are you going to stay the night?" Jisoo asks.
"Maybe." Jeonghan runs his fingers through Jisoo's hair, drawing a sound of pleasure from Jisoo as he leans into the touch. "Wanted to see you before I left."
"You're leaving? For how long?"
It's not an unusual arrangement for them. Between Jeonghan's legitimate job as a highly successful businessman and his more illicit activities, his schedule is only ever predictable in how erratic it is. And even if Jeonghan kept to a regular schedule, Jisoo's hospital shifts fluctuate every month, so they can go two weeks without seeing each other only to spend every moment together when their schedules align. All the same, it's rare for Jeonghan to stay for only one night before immediately leaving again.
"Not sure," Jeonghan admits. He's been languid and relaxed for the past half hour, the two of them lazily wrapped up in each other exchanging idle kisses, but now, his muscles tense fractionally. This, Jisoo presumes, is the reason for his insistence earlier tonight.
"Business, or," Jisoo kisses the line of Jeonghan's sharp jaw in between words, and smiles to himself when the tension dissipates, if only slightly, "business?"
Jeonghan laughs quietly and reaches up to brush his thumb over Jisoo's mouth. "The second one."
Much the same activities that brought them together, then. The ones that make Jeonghan slip on his dark gloves – so that he won't leave fingerprints behind, maybe, or to protect his hands when he shoots, or maybe just because Jeonghan is vain and likes the way they look. Any of the three are possible. The kind of business that makes Jeonghan slip a gun and a knife into his waistband before he strolls out of the apartment, the kind that returns him with his gaze hard and steely, his smile so sharp that it makes Jisoo's mouth dry and a thrill jolt through his entire body.
"Can't your men deal with it?" He tries, though he's already guessed the answer.
Jeonghan shakes his head. "Not this time. It's personal, this time around." Jeonghan doesn't scowl; he's much too vain to mar his features like that, but derision is tinged in his voice when he continues. "Some people aren't too happy with the fact that I'm at the head, now."
Jisoo raises his eyebrows. "Haven't you run the city for two years?"
"I suppose it took this long for them to start making their displeasure known."
Jisoo wonders how long this will last. Jeonghan rarely speaks in detail about his more illicit activities. Stay out of trouble, sweetheart. Jisoo's just about given up on doing that, considering how he's pressed against the bare chest of the most dangerous man in the city and possibly the country. Jeonghan, on the other hand, has always done what he can to steer Jisoo away from it with vague answers and distractions. One of his ways of showing his affection for Jisoo, he knows, but it's maddening, sometimes, how much Jeonghan refuses to tell him for his own safety, as Jeonghan says.
Jisoo skims his hand over Jeonghan's chest. It's lean and toned, his stomach flat and hard, but his skin isn't unblemished. He can feel the raised skin of scar tissue beneath his fingertips, long-since familiar to him. Some of them he's even treated himself, turning up the apartment lights as bright as they can go, filling the apartment with the sharp smell of antiseptic, and staying silent, tight-lipped, and fretful as he touches his fingers to Jeonghan's skin.
"What are they doing?" Jisoo asks.
Jeonghan doesn't roll his eyes, but he gives the impression of it. "Just saying things, for now. Dissenters. People who think they could do a better job than I can." He snorts, sounding affronted at the very thought. "As if."
"Of course not," Jisoo agrees. "It's your city, after all," he continues, turning his face so that he murmurs it into the side of Jeonghan's neck. Maybe he shouldn't be endeared with the way Jeonghan preens at the praise, but he is. Maybe he shouldn't be feeling fond of Jeonghan, knowing what he is and what he's planning on doing – in vague terms, anyway – but he is, because Jeonghan's eyes shine and his smile is bright and he hums, pleased, as he brushes his lips against Jisoo's cheek.
"I'll leave early in the morning," Jeonghan says decisively. "Spend the night. Then I'll go deal with them." He brushes a strand of Jisoo's hair away from his face and Jisoo closes his eyes briefly in satisfaction. "I might be gone for a while, I don't know. I need to track down the dissenters. Who knows how many there might be," he says, his voice turning cold and hard. Jisoo knows that Jeonghan relishes his control over the criminal underground, takes perhaps-perverse pleasure in most of the things he does, but there is nothing he despises more than traitors. He saw that for himself in their very first meeting.
"Should I be worried?" Jisoo asks, trying for playfulness. It seems he succeeds, because Jeonghan's eyes soften again as he looks into Jisoo's face.
"You're my lover. You shouldn't be."
Jisoo searches for any indication of anxiety in Jeonghan's eyes, but they're open and clear. Jeonghan ducks questions, skillfully redirects them and gives half-answers when he needs to, all, he insists, for the purpose of protecting Jisoo. But for all that it grates on Jisoo's nerves sometimes, he knows that Jeonghan has yet to lie to him.
"Is that common knowledge now?" Jisoo asks, thinking that he wouldn't mind much if it was, though it's hardly something they've really discussed.
"No," says Jeonghan. "But anyone who tries to hurt you has to deal with me."
It's heartwarming in a way that's maybe a little morbid, because Jisoo can guess what Jeonghan means by having to deal with him. He's not so much of a fool to presume that Jeonghan will openly proclaim to the streets that he loves Jisoo, but Jeonghan has made it clear enough that Jisoo is one of his, now. And with that comes the risk of Jeonghan's wrath towards anyone who touches what is his.
"I can take care of myself, you know," Jisoo points out, keeping his voice deliberately even and mild.
Jeonghan shakes his head immediately. "You don't know what these people are like."
You could tell me, Jisoo thinks, a flicker of irritation rising up inside him, but he pushes it back down. Now isn't the time. When they have another uninterrupted stretch of time to spend with each other, with nothing weighing on them and nothing more to do than lounge around wrapped up in each other, perhaps he'll bring it up. For now, though, he stays silent and lets Jeonghan curl his arms around him, pulling the two of them even closer together.
"I'm going to miss you," he says instead, and he knows Jeonghan is pleased with the sentiment when he kisses Jisoo on the lips. It's softer this time around but still insistent, Jeonghan's lips gentle and probing against his. Jeonghan cups his face with a hand and Jisoo slips his hands over Jeonghan's shoulders, his eyelids fluttering shut under the warm pressure of Jeonghan's lips on his.
"So will I, sweetheart," Jeonghan murmurs when they finally pull away.
Jisoo rests his head on Jeonghan's chest, accepting another slow, lingering kiss. I'll miss you too, sweetheart, Jeonghan's touch says as he strokes Jisoo's hair. It fills Jisoo with warmth and he tries not to feel guilty about the way it doesn't quite remove the tiny shard of resentment in his heart. Later, he thinks. Later.
He lets himself relax against Jeonghan, taking comfort and pleasure in the feeling of the two of them pressed together and sighing, smiling, at each touch of Jeonghan's lips against his skin.