Chapter Text
It’s no secret that Jaemin had been working out. Jeno, along with Xiaojun and Jaehyun, have watched his progress firsthand in the same gym they all go to.
What is a secret though is that Jeno has been wanting more than just watching Jaemin. It all goes downhill from there.
“You’re staring,” Jaehyun nudges Jeno’s arm with his, sweat sticking from skin to skin to shove Jeno out of his reverie.
Jeno can use the workout and the heat to blame for the way his face flushes, but Jaehyun has caught on quicker than he has, and it’s always no good when someone else is suddenly let in on your little secret. Jeno tries to brush it off with a clear of his throat, “Am not.”
“You so were.”
“Quit it,” Jeno groans back, plodding towards his gym bag to grab his tumbler. He flicks and clicks it open with his thumb and it goes straight down his bustling system. Everything’s all so jittery, from his muscles to his prickling skin, and even the way the thoughts run in his head are too many and too fast for his own good.
“You two are the closest out of everyone, aren’t you?” Jaehyun doesn’t ask, he states it. Everyone knows Jeno and Jaemin, Jaemin and Jeno, attached to the hip from middle school to the fully functioning and responsible adults they are now. So these types of conversations shouldn’t be new to them, Jaehyun firmly believes so. “Why not just ask him?”
The look that Jeno gives him is dead on. One that screams, “Are you seriously asking me that?” Almost as if Jaehyun had suggested the dumbest idea known to mankind.
“What?” Jaehyun quips back, incredulous.
Jeno’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, out of words, before he’s turning away with a firm, “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
No, Jeno’s definitely not gonna ask Jaemin about that. Despite everything they’ve already done together, it’s just too lewd. He’s never gonna ask Jaemin of that. Never.
Jeno isn’t even sure if he and Jaehyun are even on the same page to begin with. Despite how eerily observant Jaehyun is (he isn’t, Jeno’s just too obvious), he doubts he could read his mind. After all, what Jeno is thinking of is something so spine-chillingly lewd, so undeniably perverted, so unfathomably horrid and sinful and distasteful and—point is, Jeno still has some semblance of dignity in him to not ask Jaemin to make his sick fantasy come true.
Jeno is content with watching. He’s content in watching Jaemin glisten with sweat underneath the bright lights, quietly drooling every time he pushes his wet hair back, eyes following the way his muscles shift with every pull of the pec-deck’s handlebars and then rubbing one out at the shower stall next to him.
Jeno is aware that that’s also very, very perverted of him, to jack off to the man who’s just standing a wall away from him, but it’s better than actually asking him to participate in the thing he’s thinking of. He refuses to even acknowledge it, nor ponder over it, because that would make it all too real and soon there will be no room for denial.
This thing will pass.
And this thing he’s thinking of will be a secret that Jaemin will never know.
—
Jaemin knows.
Very rarely does something go unnoticed by him, especially when it comes to Jeno. He’s sweet and thoughtful and so oddly keen—and although most of the time, Jeno really doesn’t know what goes through that head of his, he should’ve known he would get caught one way or another.
“You were staring.” Jaemin deadpanned.
“I wasn’t!” Jeno stutters, hit with a sense of deja vu from the same conversation; only this time, it comes at him like a freight train at a hundred miles per hour.
Jaemin leaves the cable station he had been exercising on and moves to the treadmill that Jeno is currently using. He prompts his palm over the handrail, tilting his head with a curious, expectant expression, “Something on your mind?”
In truth, Jeno should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. It had only been a week since he and Jaehyun had this very conversation and yet, Jaemin had him all figured out already. Being so close and knowing each other so well really has its downsides and this one comes back biting and gnawing at Jeno’s ass. He reluctantly stops the treadmill, waits till it slows down before hopping off, “It’s nothing.”
The moment their eyes had met in the mirror across them, Jeno knew he was done for. Jaemin must’ve caught him staring in the middle of their workout, he definitely did, and everything tumbles down like an avalanche for poor, defenseless Jeno.
Jaemin follows him so easily, his voice quiet behind him, “For once, I don’t know what you’re thinking of, Jeno, and it scares me.”
Somehow, Jeno’s both grateful and terrified of that. How their minds, which are always so beautifully and perfectly in sync, are suddenly thrown off their own rhythm. Years of living together, years of knowing and learning each other and it all comes to a stop at one perverted thought courtesy of Jeno himself.
If only Jaemin knew. Jeno can’t help but blush in embarrassment, “Can’t we talk about it later?”
If only Jaemin knew—scratch that, Jaemin will know. In one way or another.
“You’ve been avoiding me for the past week, Jeno,” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest and god, Jeno tries so hard not to stare. “I think I’ve done my fair share of waiting.”
Jeno diverts his gaze from Jaemin’s plump chest underneath his black tank top and swallows around his dry throat, “Trust me, you definitely do not want to have this conversation here.”
Jaemin thinks about it for a second and Jeno nearly rips his eyes off their sockets just to stop himself from unabashedly staring. It’s almost as if they were taunting him with how thick they were underneath his shirt, the lines of the folds going deeper and tighter from the way his arms were crossed over each other.
Jeno prays to every god above to stop him from embarrassing himself in front of him (e.g. popping a boner right in the middle of the gym or worse, mindlessly reaching a hand out to squeeze them like some teen who can’t keep his hands to himself).
When Jeno comes to, Jaemin is letting out a sigh, “Fine. But no more running?”
Jeno is grateful for Jaemin always being ready to be the bigger (god, yeah, he’s definitely big, Jeno’s head unnecessarily supplies) person out of the two of them because who knows how long he could last avoiding Jaemin like he was the plague. Still, he hopes this will be the last time something like this happens.
“No more running,” Jeno finally says.
When Jaemin gives him one last look, he leaves and goes back to his routine. Jeno is immediately filled with regret as soon as Jaemin holds onto the cables and pulls. His chest expands at the spread of his arms and Jeno just wants to run across the globe and never return. Fortunately, he doesn’t do that and instead spends the rest of the hour trying not to stare at Jaemin’s chest.
(He fails, but that conversation is for later.)
—
“Have you ever thought of getting titty-fucked?”
Jaemin gawks at him. Jeno has done it. As expected, he’ll have to knock Jaemin out, grab his belongings, change his name, move to another country, never to be seen and heard from ever again.
“That’s it?” Jaemin scoffs into the quiet air of their room, “That’s what’s been on your head? All this time?”
Jeno drops himself back to his bed, pulling a pillow to his face to groan, “It’s not everyday you call your friend and say, hey, man, your chest workout has been doing you favors. Do you wanna maybe try and get your tits fucked?”
“No, but we can if we try hard enough,” Jaemin chuckles, crawling closer to Jeno to lift the pillow off his face, “We can do it every night after dinner if you want to.”
Jeno makes a tiny noise of disgust and arousal and steals the pillow back, hiding himself, “I’m not fucking your tits everyday, Jaemin!”
“Then I’ll fuck your tits, how about that?”
“Please stop saying tits,” Jeno groans even louder, hitting him with the pillow, “This is embarrassing enough as it is!”
Jaemin chuckles as he watches Jeno sulk, “Whose idea was it to begin with?”
“Do you want to do it or not,” Jeno deadpans. Straight to the point, despite the warm blush in his cheeks and the excited twitching down his jersey shorts.
“Yes,” Jaemin says almost immediately. He hovers Jeno and leans in till they’re a breath away, whispering around his sharp grin, “A hundred times yes.”
Intimate, unhurried, Jeno kisses Jaemin and sighs underneath him. It’s languid enough to make Jeno melt and shiver, his hands going restless against his lean muscles, his fingers digging into his firm skin and tracing every shallow dip he could reach. Jaemin moans at the touch, rutting into Jeno’s arousal with his till it renders them both into a moaning, panting mess.
It’s almost immediate, the way they react to each other. A tightening coil rolls within Jaemin’s stomach, feeling his skin growing warmer and warmer at every press of Jeno against him. Their legs tangle till neither of them knows where one ends and starts, their hearts beating close to each other, erratic and so, so impatient. Jaemin sighs into his mouth, thumbing at Jeno’s waist before flipping their positions.
Jeno settles his legs on each of his sides, crawling backwards and a little lower till he’s met with the tent in Jaemin’s pants. It’s almost humiliating how much he drools over it, from the sight and scent alone, but the haze of his arousal clouds every shame he has left in him till he’s mouthing at Jaemin’s clothed cock, licking like a starving kitten. He takes in his musk, salivating against the soft material of his sweatpants and tonguing at his hard on.
Jaemin groans, voice low as he pats his abdomen, “Come here.”
With one last gasp and a squeeze on Jaemin’s thigh, Jeno crawls till he’s met face to face with Jaemin. Jeno straddles his waist and lets Jaemin’s rough hands wander on his thigh, lets him press and thumb at its inner sides till he’s bucking into the air for more. Jeno’s cock throbs in his shorts at every helpless thrust he makes, his legs spreading wider to bring himself closer to Jaemin’s chest and rut against it. The layers of fabric between them does nothing to help his arousal.
Sensing Jeno’s impatience, Jaemin slightly rises from the mattress and tugs his shirt off, laying back with his upper torso bare for Jeno to gawk and admire. And that he does. Jeno can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes past his lips, the veins under his arms throbbing and his knuckles whitening at the sight of them. Thick, plump muscles with a skin like gold, his nipples hard and erect from the cold air and from the stimulation underneath, almost as if begging to be licked and touched.
Jaemin has always been unashamed of his body, works out for hours on end and sleeps without a shirt on. So loud and proud with his hard work and efforts in climbing off his bed at 7 in the morning to accompany Jeno in the gym. Jeno has almost never stared too much, it was only respectful to do so. There must be some sort of unspoken bro-code to never look long enough.
But Jaemin’s labor on certain areas have been a little too distracting these days and although he knows it’s wrong to ogle, he can’t help himself when Jaemin keeps wearing the tightest of shirts, walks out the showers and sleeps without a shirt on and leaves Jeno with a raging boner to solve by himself.
Still, it was never Jaemin’s fault, but this hard on that Jeno has now is definitely his. And Jaemin looks more than happy to help him this time.
“You can touch them,” Jaemin lowly chuckles, encouragingly thumbing at Jeno’s thigh.
Slowly, Jeno reaches his hand out till his skin burns against his, feeling the soft, untensed flesh under his touch. Jeno presses another and Jaemin looks pleased, looking like the cat that caught the canary, with the way Jeno caresses and fondles each one with a breathless stutter.
Swallowing around his rough throat, Jeno rolls a nub with his thumb, “They’re so…”
“Jen, as much as I’m willing to indulge you with your kinks, I don’t think I’d like the idea of you waxing poetry about my chest as much,” Jaemin immediately cuts him off with an airy laugh. Despite his amusement, it’s clear how affected he is already, from a little caressing and touching alone.
Jeno bites his lower lip at that, everything almost unreal with how quick Jaemin unravels underneath him. As if in a daze, he lowers himself and takes a nipple into his mouth, slowly licking it till he’s built a rhythm.
"Ngh” Jaemin moans against him, unconsciously bucking into Jeno’s mouth and grabbing him by the back of his head for him to take him deeper. Jeno tugs the other nub with his fingers, alternating between rubbing and teasing it till it’s nearly swollen from the sweet attention.
Jeno swirls his tongue around the pebbled nub, eliciting a moan out of Jaemin’s lips. He twitches underneath the wet and warm plush of Jeno’s tongue, his senses heightened, his body so sensitive it’s almost ridiculous how much he’s leaking in his pants from this alone.
Eagerly, Jeno pulls his lips away enough to give his tongue more room to move, flicking up and down, up and down till Jaemin’s writhing against the mattress. His tongue expertly flicks the nub, coating it with enough spit to make Jaemin shudder when it’s hit with the cool air. Jeno holds him in his place by placing a firm palm over his pec, pushing him down, “Stay still, Jaemin.”
“Easier said than done,” Jaemin glares at him, but it’s not meant to intimidate, not with the high flush of his cheeks and the hazy, distant look of his hooded gaze.
“Take these off,” Jaemin’s voice is almost raspy, desperate, his hands even more with how he clumsily tries to tug Jeno’s shorts off.
With a hand on the bed, Jeno lifts himself up and slides the material off. It’s almost magnetic how quick he comes back to Jaemin, their skin against each other electric, enough to spark their nerves into a million stars.
Jeno resumes to straddling Jaemin’s torso. His dick twitches in interest the more the distance between him and Jaemin’s chest draws near and at this point, there is no doubt that Jeno would develop some sort of Pavlovian response to his pecs and his tight shirts like a dog to a treat.
As soon as they were both settled comfortably with the pillows underneath Jaemin and him underneath Jeno, the room had gotten tremendously warmer. Like an overwhelming, blistering summer heat had caressed its hand against their skin. Still, they made no move to lean away from each other and it only spurred them on even more. Jeno on top of Jaemin, sitting on his torso with a thick, heavy fog of arousal surrounding them. Jaemin rests his head against the headboard as Jeno comes closer, holding his jaw, “Open up.”
Jaemin parts his lips and takes Jeno into his mouth in one smooth motion. They’ve done things like this before, experimenting and training each other’s bodies to teach and familiarize one another. Warm, tentative and restless hands wandering across wide expanses of skin, lip and teeth latching onto the most sensitive parts and dips of their bodies, leaving marks that they knew no one would dare to look and find.
In a way, this was bound to happen. Growing up in a secluded company, isolated from the world with only cameras and flashing lights as their companion aside from the other members—it was only a matter of time till they started to seek for something else. As curious teenagers living together, it was only sensible to them that they would use each other to find some channel for relief, even until today.
So Jaemin takes Jeno’s cock like he was meant for this, prying away his teeth off his sensitive skin and hollowing his cheeks in the way that he knows Jeno likes. He swirls his tongue around the tip and wets the length enough to pull a shudder out of him, thumbing shapes at his waist to spur him on. Jeno then pulls away, adamant to not let this end all too soon. He had suffered a week for this and only an idiot would waste an opportunity like this.
“Was that okay?” Jeno breathlessly asks, head spinning as he tries to back away to straddle Jaemin’s torso.
“Mhm,” Jaemin wipes the dribbling spit off his chin and lips with the back of his hand, the other stroking Jeno’s sensitive cock in his fist. “Are you gonna fuck me now or what?”
Jeno groans, thrusting into Jaemin’s hand, “If you’d just let go of me, I would.”
Teasing, Jaemin chuckles. And he could draw this out for as long as he wanted to, he definitely could, but he decides to tease just a little more before giving Jeno what he wants. Jaemin thumbs at the tip of Jeno’s cock, seeing it leak with precum but still far from enough.
Jaemin hums, “Hold on.” He pulls a drawer open from his side and blindly rummages through it, only stopping when he feels a familiar tube in his grasp. Jaemin clicks it open, warming it between his fingers before smearing it over Jeno’s girth, stroking and rolling his palm over the tip just enough to have Jeno twitching above him. Sensitive, as he always is.
Once he deems him wet enough, Jeno wastes no time in bringing himself closer. He grabs Jaemin’s pecs and pushes them together between his dick and thrusts. He moans at the feeling, not as tight and warm as being inside Jaemin, but it’s enough to give him the friction he so desperately needs. He pushes up, fingers eagerly writhing and squeezing against his chest for his pleasure. He looks debauched on his own, helplessly thrusting upwards that Jaemin can’t help the laugh that he lets out, “You know there’s not a lot to work with, right?”
“I know,” Jeno slurs out, head throwing back as he ruts against him, “But—but it feels so good…”
Jeno doesn’t even have to tell him, Jaemin could feel every twitch and leak of his cock against his skin. He could feel his heavy weight and warmth that effortlessly set him alight. Jaemin knows from the awed expression on his face, from the way Jeno’s lips part and his brows furrow and his lashes flutter. But he also knows it’s not nearly enough, not for Jeno, so he taps his thigh to get his attention, “Could you move a little?”
With a confused sound, Jeno moves to do as he’s told. He scoots back till Jaemin has room to bring himself lower, his back now completely pressed on the bed, orange hair fanning out like a halo around him. Jeno follows like a moth to a flame and positions himself over him again. He sets and folds his legs outwards till Jaemin’s arms and chest are underneath him before he greedily takes.
Without thinking twice, Jeno takes the new friction that Jaemin offers him, relishes in the delicious slide of his cock between his pecs and wantonly moans from the heat and haze of it all.
Jeno keeps thrusting and thrusting, squishing Jaemin’s chest underneath his touch to bring each muscle closer, tighter, around him. He ruts into them like a dog in heat, tongue lolling out at the new, unexpected pleasure that he had been waiting for all this time. He doesn’t even notice when he moves into one position to another, shifting either closer or farther to stimulate every part of his sensitive cock. His pacing switches from rushed, messy thrusts to slow, unhurried ones, that has both of them groaning at the sensitivity.
Meanwhile, Jaemin’s untouched cock chubs in its constraints, creating a wet patch from the lack of attention that Jeno can’t give at the moment. It twitches and leaks at every thrust Jeno makes and he’s so close to begging for something—something to ease the coiling heat away. To have Jeno around him, his tight heat clenching at every drag of his cock, to have Jeno’s mouth or his hand eagerly bobbing at his length; he’s so close he doesn’t mind whatever means Jeno takes just to make him come.
But Jeno’s too lost in his own pleasure to think of anything but the warm feeling around him. Can’t think of anything but the soft plush of Jaemin’s chest and the stuttering gasp he makes when he tenses them so often, giving him a rougher yet better friction. He drowns in the sting of it, in the alternating feeling of pain and pleasure and gasps for air at every breath that Jaemin lets out and fans against his sensitive tip.
The ghost of his warm breath has Jeno leaking over his chest, dripping down Jaemin’s neck and collarbone and Jeno nearly loses himself at the thought of him being able to leave marks, parts of him, despite the position he’s in. He’s always had a fixation with Jaemin, biting onto every patch of his skin and feeling himself slowly drift from the ground the moment he sinks his teeth into him, but with the state they’re in, he doubts he could have that rush again.
The territorial marking, the pleasure and pain that Jaemin so unconditionally hands to him. But Jeno makes do, marking Jaemin in a new, uncharted way and it’s enough to shoot a semblance of that thrill up his brain.
“Anh, Jaemin, please,” Jeno gasps out, not even knowing what he’s begging for.
Jeno reaches a hand out to hold onto the headboard, giving himself more leverage to fuck into Jaemin. The bed creaks even louder at that, along with the gasps and moans that Jeno lets out. He’s drawing closer and closer, rutting against him with no finesse, just pure, utter desperation. So much so that Jaemin could practically feel every drop of it pour out of his body, as if tangible, and he braces himself for the moment where Jeno comes apart.
He’s so, so close, just mindlessly rutting like an animal in heat with Jaemin as his only source of relief. He continues to erratically thrust around his muscles, pawing at either his shoulder or his chest—his mind too foggy to find proper purchase for his other hand to hold onto. He’s grown desperate, needy, so ridiculously whiny that Jaemin almost feels sorry for him, for making him this perverted bitch he is now.
“God, you’re so pretty like this, Jeno,” Jaemin manoeuvres his hands from under Jeno and squeezes his ass, sinking his nails into the pale skin until Jeno’s a crying mess.
With a rough, tight grip, Jaemin helps Jeno fuck him harder. He pulls and pushes him, almost guiding, and gives his ass one, two slaps, only stopping when he knows for sure he had left a bright, beautiful mark in his own sadistic way. The pain pushes out a scream from Jeno, his dick spurting precum up Jaemin’s chest and he loses his rhythm, hips stuttering. Another slap has him continuing his pace, riding over Jaemin’s torso with his cock so desperate for release.
Jeno nearly sobs from how overwhelming the pleasure is, his arms shuddering, his legs aching in protest. But the hand on his ass squeezes even tighter, as if spurring him to continue like his life depended on it. His fingers dig into Jaemin’s chest deeper, leaving crescent moons as he frantically fucks him. Tears spring in the corner of his eyes from the pain and arousal alone, his body winding tighter, his throat going drier with every push he makes.
With one last thrust and a pathetic whine, Jeno’s body convulses from the erratic waves of pleasure that crashes upon him. White, warm ropes of cum spill right into Jaemin’s face, dripping off the slope of his nose and his long lashes, down his flushed cheeks and chapped lips. Jeno chases after his breath as he rests more of his weight over Jaemin’s torso, quietly admiring the pretty tint of white and pink he created on his pretty face before finally moving.
Jaemin groans from the weight that’s taken away from him and lets Jeno wipe his face clean. With the cum now off his eyelids, Jaemin grabs another wet wipe and starts cleaning his chest on his own. It’s almost painful when he touches it, the pecs pressed together so tightly and his muscles aching from tensing too much.
They clearly overdid it, but the pleased sigh that Jeno makes when he hits the bed is enough to make Jaemin think that it was worth it at least.
Jaemin’s just as sure that a token of gratitude is in order.
Jeno has cleaned and tucked himself back in, ready to give into the exhaustion with a dopey smile until Jaemin speaks up.
“Hey, Jen.”
Sleepy, Jeno grunts, “Yeah?”
“Ever thought of getting your thighs fucked?”