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Familiarity is something that Jaemin has never quite known the luxuries of.
All his life he’s been between foster homes, then from foster homes to couches, and couches to tour buses.
He’s beyond grateful for the life he lives now, because it’s not often that people truly make it out of situations such as his, but he still wonders about things like familiarity. The nature of his relationships are his own doing, and Jaemin feels so lucky to have met Jeno backstage in a dirty bathroom, immediately enamored by the sweat sticking to his lashes and glimmering on his top lip. They had shared a cigarette and then promised to never touch one again, and from then on have been inseparable—well, metaphorically of course.
Jaemin is still too scared to let the world know that he and Jeno are together, and at every turn or through every panic attack, Jeno’s there to reassure him that nobody has to know. Jeno whispers into his ear every night they get to share a bed to remind him that he loves him, he needs him, and he wants to stay together. Some might never be able to understand that Jaemin Na—otherwise confident, charismatic, and fearless musician—could be so afraid of the future.
But he is afraid, terrified even.
The fear doesn’t have a place to linger for long, though, because as quickly as it manifests deep in Jaemin’s gut, Jeno is there to shoo it away.
Like now, for example, as Jaemin's heart beats quickly in his chest at the mere sound of a knock, signaling that the very man he needs more than air has found his way to him. Jaemin had told him that it wasn’t a good idea, that they should wait until after the festival when they can be together at home, but Jeno insisted, and Jaemin secretly hoped he would.
Not even bothering to check himself in the mirror, knowing that Jeno likes him any which way, Jaemin rushes to the hotel room door on bare feet, his pajamas swishing with each quick step. The sound of each lock brings excitement to his skin, and when he’s finally able to turn the knob and pull open the door, a smile plagues his already nervous mouth.
Jeno doesn’t even greet him once he’s allowed entrance, pushing open the door the rest of the way before wrapping his arms around Jaemin in a hug that’s enough to steal the air from his lungs. He picks Jaemin up with nothing more than the hold on his waist, and kicks the hotel door shut behind them.
“Jeno, the lock,” Jaemin half scolds half whines, a laugh getting caught between his syllables as Jeno attacks his face in kisses, always the sweet one. “I don’t want anyone bursting in.”
Jeno grunts in acknowledgement, but makes no move to appease Jaemin’s requests, instead focusing his attention on Jaemin’s throat, trailing wet and careless kisses to the smooth skin. It would be irrational to deny Jeno of this, but Jaemin can’t let himself get distracted, not before he knows they are safe.
“My manager has a key to the room, Jen,” he murmurs even as his head falls back in bliss, Jeno’s tongue tracing the movement of his adam’s apple and momentarily making him forget where he is. Everything about Jeno is addictive and warm, comforting and safe. Jaemin thinks he can hardly be blamed for how easy it is to want to forget the world around them, but Jeno understands, perhaps more than even Jaemin himself, how important this secret is to him.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll lock it,” Jeno replies with a voice that is already too rough for anyone’s good, making Jaemin’s insides curl like a cat beneath the sun. Even just parting long enough for Jeno to step back towards the door, click a few locks, and return to Jaemin’s arms with as much enthusiasm as every first time, is enough to have Jaemin regretting his own sensibilities. Jeno doesn’t let him dwell on it long, though, because in his next breath their lips are meeting fervently and with so much familiarity that each swipe of Jeno’s tongue tastes like home.
How silly of Jaemin to assume he has no such things as routine or intimacy, when Jeno kisses him with the practiced intensity of an olympian performing their sport. Everything about the way their hands find each other’s bodies, from Jaemin’s fingers tangling in Jeno’s gelled hair, to Jeno’s grip tightening around his waist to lift him from the ground once again, speaks to just how much they care. Just because it is familiar, doesn’t mean it loses its enigmatic spark that makes the room black out around them, and Jaemin’s stomach swoops to confirm his thoughts when Jeno tosses him back onto the bed.
“I’ve missed you,” Jeno admits while crawling onto the mattress to join Jaemin, reaching behind himself to tug off the shirt that Jaemin would have rather torn to shreds. He feels almost feral with how badly he wants to tear into Jeno, to love and be loved until there’s nothing left to lose. “Being so close but so far is like torture.”
This is also like torture, Jaemin’s eyes immediately finding the glow of Jeno’s tanned chest once his shirt has been tossed to the hotel floor, revealing miles of taut skin over perfect muscle. Everything about Jeno is perfect, from his words to body to his heart. Jaemin thinks he could love him a million times over if he was allowed to, and Jeno would probably encourage it.
“I’m sorry,” is all Jaemin can whimper in reply, tugging Jeno down to steal kiss after kiss after kiss, their lips moving together as if they want to devour each other whole. Jeno’s tongue slips into Jaemin’s mouth with ease, welcomed and invited by the way Jaemin’s lips part. Mint toothpaste and green tea become intermingled as they taste each other freely, and Jaemin’s nails dig into the nape of Jeno’s neck.
With a small hiss, Jeno pulls back just enough so that Jaemin can feel his warm breath on his cheeks. He’s panting, but when Jaemin looks at him, his expression is serious. “Don’t ever apologize to me for this, Jaemin. Don’t you ever,” Jeno commands while leaning in to bite at the very tip of his nose, a playful warning that makes Jaemin have to hold back a smile. He knows that Jeno is serious, and he also knows that this is a conversation they’ve had before.
For fear of ruffling Jeno beyond necessary when he is already so on edge, Jaemin nods in acquiescence, his nails becoming gentle and loving at Jeno’s neck. “I promise,” he replies with the softness of a flower falling to the warm concrete below.
To this day, Jaemin is falling for Jeno, over and over he falls in love with the man who harbors a sharp tongue and a sweet smile, always willing to bend over backwards for his happiness. When Jeno comes back down to quiet Jaemin’s fears with wet kisses on his neck, Jaemin lets his eyes flutter shut once more, getting lost in the feeling of being so loved that he can hardly tell which way is up or which way is down.
Jeno is insistent and hungry with how he marks Jaemin, no regard for the bruises that will be left behind because Jaemin is more than capable of hiding them. They are going home in the morning, after all, so why shouldn’t Jaemin indulge in the raw scrape of Jeno’s teeth? Writhing in pleasure with each soothing swipe of his tongue as Jeno’s hands find a way to occupy themselves with the tie on Jaemin’s pajama pants, undoing the aggravating knots with impatient tugs. Jaemin yelps in surprise when suddenly Jeno is yanking his pajamas off altogether, bringing his boxers with them.
“Just let me take care of you, baby,” Jeno murmurs against his ear, hot breath making Jaemin shiver and a blush grow on his cheeks. Only Jeno could make grown men blush after a year of dating, but Jaemin wouldn’t have it any other way, obsessed with the freedom to be vulnerable. All he can do is nod to let Jeno know that yes, I want that too. I want you to take care of me, make me forget.
The words are too heavy to say, stuck in Jaemin’s throat and stolen with a quiet moan of Jeno’s name instead. Jaemin’s arms are pinned above his head for only a moment, Jeno leaving one last bruise on his collarbone before pulling back to examine him. All Jaemin can do is allow his eyes to open half-lidded, drunk off of the way Jeno stares down at him like he’s something to eat.
On any normal day, Jeno's eyes are intense and hypnotic, inviting you in with sweet promises, only to drown you from the inside out. In bed that stare is amplified to such a degree that Jaemin can hardly stand it, but he basks in it, letting it wash over him as Jeno begins pulling off his shirt. The fabric is tugged over his head with ease and then discarded with the rest of their clothing, only for Jaemin to be laid bare beneath his still half-dressed boyfriend.
“ God,” Jeno groans, strong hands gripping Jaemin’s thighs and making him jolt. “You’re so pretty, Jaem, you know that? You’re pretty, and soft…” He trails off as if entranced, dropping down to his stomach between Jaemin’s thighs and nuzzling the warm flesh right before him. Jaemin can’t help the small whimper that escapes him from Jeno’s proximity to where he needs him most, but Jeno seems intent to wait, to torture. “I love your deep voice when you sing, and the way sweat drips down your stomach while you’re on stage.”
As he speaks, Jeno begins a similarly harsh treatment to Jaemin’s thighs, blunt teeth staking their claim on pale flesh, leaving streaks of red and purple in their wake. Jaemin’s hands come down to tangle in Jeno’s hair once more, and the sounds of Jaemin’s desperate mewls fill the once peaceful hotel room.
“That’s right, baby. Cry for me,” Jeno murmurs against Jaemin’s thigh, licking at a particularly fresh mark like a dog with a bone. Jaemin’s thighs try to close around him on instinct, seeking relief from the constant flood of pleasurable pain. This man with strong hands and dark hair knows exactly how to break Jaemin down to nothingness, to make him forget that there is a world beyond these four walls that knows anything about him. Being perceived is scary, impossible, but Jeno lets Jaemin feel safe in being known. He worships every inch of Jaemin’s body, kissing the crease of his knees and the swell of his calves. Jeno’s spit-coated lips leave love letters to his hip bones and his lower stomach and the tip of his cock, keeping Jaemin in the atmosphere and far away from here.
Everything is euphoric, overwhelming, but Jeno isn’t done with him yet, and Jaemin nearly flies off the bed when suddenly there’s a warm wetness right over his puckered entrance, and he cries out to the nothingness in his head.
Jeno’s grip on his thighs turns brutal, keeping Jaemin open and steady as he begins lapping over his hole with unashamed eagerness. This isn’t new for them, but it still fills Jaemin with rattled nerves, his entire body writhing for lack of knowing what else to do, feeling trapped and helpless in the best possible way. Even the mere memory of the times Jeno has made Jaemin come like this makes him shiver with each prod of Jeno’s tongue, and he whimpers every time that wet muscle finds the inside of his body.
By the time Jaemin feels beyond the point of sanity, Jeno pulls back with a gasp of breath, looking up at Jaemin between his thighs. Jaemin can feel his eyes on him, but he’s too weak to look, chest heaving from already being overstimulated.
“Awe, I’m sorry, baby. Did I go too far?” Jeno asks with a mildly teasing tone, still concerned and gentle, but knowing that Jaemin would tell him if that were the case. Jaemin lets Jeno do whatever he pleases because he trusts him to make every kiss and bite and touch absolutely perfect, but Jeno makes him earn it still. “Look at me.”
Another whimper, this one broken and frustrated, but Jeno is quick to soothe Jaemin’s nerves with a gentle squeeze of his hip, coaxing Jaemin to play along for just a little longer. Jaemin gives in instantly, of course, melting at Jeno’s sweet touch and blinking his teary eyes open to stare down at Jeno between his legs, watching as his boyfriend wipes his own spit from his lips with the back of his hand.
He looks fucking filthy, hair disheveled and lips swollen, but he’s so perfect, and Jaemin feels that comforting warmth bloom in his chest. “Please,” Jaemin whispers, hands reaching out weakly for Jeno to come back up, wanting nothing more than to be lost beneath his body and filled to the brim.
Thankfully, Jeno seems to return his sentiments, and leaves one last kiss to Jaemin’s thigh before rising to his knees once more. His jeans are unbuttoned and pushed down with his boxers before Jaemin even has to ask, Jeno standing for only a second to kick them all the way off. When he’s completely bare, Jaemin stares happily at the way Jeno’s tattoos shift over his skin with each movement, and can’t help the smile that curves his lips when Jeno finally crawls back over him.
A moment is taken between them to simply look at each other, eyes roaming flushed cheeks and parted lips. Jeno smiles at him too, and Jaemin feels the need to cry again. Being so full of love is exhausting, but Jaemin wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, tugging Jeno down to quiet his own heart with a kiss.
Jeno is more than happy to feed his wants, sure and steady fingers holding his legs apart to get closer, the length of Jeno’s cock teasing at the crease of his thigh. Being so close to Jeno is like home, all the comforts of peace and familiarity keeping Jaemin together even when all he wants to do is fall apart. The feeling of Jeno’s fingers sifting amongst the sheets is followed by the welcome sound of a bottle being clicked open, and Jaemin moans into the kiss from the shere prospect of what is about to occur.
Jaemin has never wanted anything more than to be with Jeno, to be a part of Jeno, wanting to crawl inside of his skin and make a borough there. To have Jeno isn’t enough; Jaemin is always starving after every date, feral after every kiss, desperate after every show with Jeno on the sidelines. Guilt mingles with his ferocity to love and be loved in its totality, and Jaemin wonders if it's worth hiding anymore.
“Please, please, Jeno,” Jaemin begs without pretense or shame, weak arms rising to wrap around Jeno’s neck and keep him close. Too many things swirl inside Jaemin’s head, too many possibilities and fears that are fighting for a chance to hurt him. It’s all his own doing, his own anxiety, but Jeno quiets it at every turn, hushing Jaemin with soothing kisses to his lashes and his cheeks and chin. Perhaps he should have been paying closer attention, following Jeno’s movements more carefully, because his prayers are answered in his next breath.
It feels like being submerged under water, the sounds and sensations around Jaemin completely falling away when Jeno thrusts into him with practiced ease. He is so familiar with Jeno’s body that he doesn’t have to think about whether it will hurt or if he’s clenching too hard, every atom that is Jaemin relaxing around him without nervous anticipation.
Jaemin remembers the first time they had had sex, remembers how he and Jeno discussed what things they like and how often they slept with others. Jaemin wasn’t much for sleeping around, Jeno had his fair share of partners, but what Jaemin remembers the most is the glimmer in Jeno’s eyes each time Jaemin admitted something. I like it either way. Kissing is very important to me. Bruises are hot, better with teeth.
It was like showing a man fire for the first time and teaching him that only he had the power to wield its destruction. That night he and Jeno went at it for hours, candles burned down to nothing but puddles of wax and playlists restarted over and over again, learning each other’s bodies in ways that Jaemin had never experienced before. It was pure fucking bliss, and Jaemin feels the comfort of that first time coursing through him even now, each thrust of Jeno’s hips sending jolts of electricity to every inch of his body, making his fingertips curl into the flexing muscles on Jeno’s shoulders. Jeno grunts softly above him, lips lazily kissing at Jaemin’s jaw and whispering soothing words that Jaemin hardly understands.
“I love you, Jaemin. I love you so much, you know that?” Jeno murmurs in that same gravely tone that makes him shiver, nipping at the shell of Jaemin’s ear to drive the point home. All Jaemin can do is whine in protest for saying such things when he’s not equipped to reply, too lost in the warmth swirling in his lower stomach as Jeno’s cock drags over that same spot. Jaemin knows he’s a man with secrets, that he hides and runs away, but he can never hide from Jeno, not anymore, when their bodies know each other better than mountains know the rising sun. Pleasure dips into his bones, wraps around his organs and holds them hostage without hope for escape.
Jaemin doesn’t want to escape from this—not ever.
Pitched and pathetic sounds begin flowing from Jaemin’s lips when Jeno’s pace turns hungry, brutal, his boyfriend clearly seeking his own release as he gets lost in the heat of Jaemin’s body. He craves Jeno like this, nails scratching down Jeno’s back as his thighs clench to keep him close. Every thrust is patient but frenzied, purposeful but desperate. It’s not often that Jeno truly loses control, but Jaemin is there to pick up his pieces every time, to give his scattered parts a home when he needs it most. Nothing compares to the feeling of becoming so embedded in someone’s bloodstream that you feel them every day like a thrumming beneath your skin, singing to the tune of your body for you alone.
Jaemin’s body arches into Jeno’s madness, clawing at him with a desperation he feels deep in his muscles. He’s close, lost to the pleasure of being so filled with love and care and want. He wants Jeno in ways he can’t even describe, letting himself be taken far away with his touch so that they can be truly alone. Always in the spotlight, one never feels like they can just not exist, but with Jeno? Locked in a room while he fucks Jaemin like he needs him to live? That is peaceful solitude in its totality, and Jaemin wouldn’t trade this moment for a thing.
“I’m—I’m gonna come,” Jeno pants as his fingers suddenly tangle in Jaemin’s hair, holding him with so much tension that it burns his scalp pleasantly. Jeno is always so beautiful like this, when his skin glistens with sweat and every muscle in his body becomes taut like a bow. His thrusts lose their rhythm, becoming messy and vulnerable, and Jaemin cries out into the room with each slap of skin against skin.
It’s perfect, mind numbing, an accumulation of everything good and right until it bubbles over and spills out. Jeno moans without hesitation right into Jaemin’s ear, letting him hear just how good he makes him feel, telling him without words how much he loves him, and how perfect he is. It hurts in the same way nostalgia hurts, aches with the burning of a passionate love that can’t be replicated, and when a clumsy but familiar hand snakes its way between their sweaty bodies, suddenly Jaemin sees stars.
Jeno strokes his cock with a determination to match heaven, the room filling with nothing but the sounds of animalistic depravity. Jaemin ruts into Jeno’s hold, seeking his own release and unafraid to beg for it, basking in the lightning dancing across his skin. Nobody has ever made him feel so fucking insane, but he welcomes the heat skittering down his spine, lighting a fire deep inside of him that only Jeno knows what to do with.
“Come for me, baby, come on, you can do it,” Jeno mutters encouragingly, voice all but gone. Jaemin clings to him, nails sure to have drawn blood and legs losing their strength. He follows that soft sound against his ear, whispers he can no longer discern, breath that tickles his neck. It builds and builds and builds, bringing him to the top of the tallest building and forcing him to look over the edge.
Too long has Jaemin been afraid of falling, too long has he been entangled with vines of his own making. Jeno is right here, holding him, fucking him, loving him, and Jaemin knows he’d never let him reach the concrete below.
With a cry of his name that sears itself into the white wallpaper around them, Jaemin comes, and his entire body trembles with each wave of his release in sticky ropes of white.
Jeno fucks him through it, Jaemin’s insides feeling hot and obscene, and he knows that at some point Jeno has come too. They ride the aftershocks together, Jeno slowing his movements until he’s barely grinding against Jaemin’s ass. It’s sticky and sweaty and gross, but Jaemin loves it, and uses what remains of his strength to tug Jeno down on top of him, still attached as intimately as two people could be.
🎵
Somewhere in between a hot shower and clean pajamas, Jaemin has time to think about where his mind took him only moments ago.
One could chalk it up to heat of the moment, or a serotonin induced bout of insanity, but Jaemin knows himself better than to think that. This new want to be known is not unimaginable, even when considering his desire to be completely invisible up until now. Jaemin knows that his love for Jeno is pure and raw and real , and that he doesn’t have to prove to anyone that they're together because all that matters is how they feel. At the end of every day, all that has ever mattered is them, and Jaemin wonders if this is simply his feelings evolving.
“You okay?” Jeno asks in his sleepy voice, arm slung around Jaemin’s shoulders while Jaemin listens to the beating of his heart. Of course Jeno is able to perceive even the smallest difference in Jaemin’s demeanor, because he loves him as much as Jaemin does, because there is nothing that they don’t know about each other. “You can talk to me.”
I know, is what Jaemin wants to say, his instincts telling him to run and hide, afraid of his own comfortability with the idea of not having secrets anymore. Jaemin three weeks ago, or even three hours ago, would have hit this Jaemin upside the head, but all that matters is this Jaemin, right now.
“I’ve just—I’ve been thinking,” Jaemin pauses, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Jeno better, even if the only light in the room is coming from the nightlight in the bathroom. Jeno looks up at him expectantly, giving him his full attention, and Jaemin thinks he could kiss him until his lungs give out. “You’re gonna think I’ve lost it.”
Jeno huffs in amusement, his fingertips lightly running up and down Jaemin’s arm, an almost unconscious action that makes Jaemin shiver with affection. “Jaemin, you could tell me that the sky was falling and I’d believe you,” he says with a grin that rivals the sun, puckering his lips in a cheesy show of asking for a kiss. It’s so… cute, gaggingly cute, and yet Jaemin isn’t embarrassed with the way he leans down to steal the small peck. “Mm, thank you. Now tell me.”
Jaemin groans, his head dipping to hide in Jeno’s neck. It’s safe and warm here, a place he knows better than the back of his hand, but he knows that he can’t hide in the curves of Jeno’s body forever. Eventually, one day, the parts of his life will have to converge, because it’s inevitable that secrets find their way to the surface. For too long Jaemin has let his fear determine the confines of their relationship, made their time together short and private, only letting the sun grace their skin when they can be sure nobody will know they’re there. Grocery trips alone, separate planes to small cities, meeting beneath coverings and hiding in alleyways. Jaemin is tired of loving Jeno in private, and the realization feels as natural as every brush of skin against skin.
He lifts his head finally, glad that Jeno has been patient with his antics. Sometimes Jaemin just needs some time to rustle through his own head, and Jeno is there with a smile and a comforting word to let him know that he’s happy he’s back. Jaemin loves this man so fucking much, and he can’t keep living like he doesn’t.
“I want to tell people that we’re together,” Jaemin blurts like word vomit, his chest feeling simultaneously heavy and lighter than air. It’s an exchange of weight, his shoulders finally relaxing even as his stomach knots with nerves. He wants this, he needs this, but he also knows that it's not entirely his place to say. “We don’t have to yet, and I don’t want to make some weird announcement, I just want to be with you, Jeno. I—I love you so much, you know? I love you, and I want everyone to know that you’re loved by me.”
Jaemin intakes a slow breath, something deep and invigorating that tickles his throat. At first, Jeno’s features are indiscernible, blank almost, but Jaemin isn’t worried, because he knows that Jeno would sooner die than hurt him.
The pause is a bit strange though, and Jaemin almost lets his nerves get the best of him, his lips parting as if to speak.
Only to then be stolen with a kiss.
Jaemin yelps against Jeno’s lips, caught off guard by the sudden gesture, before melting against him as easily as wilting petals. Jaemin kisses Jeno with all the care he can muster, palm flat over Jeno’s heart to warm him there, too. Being with Jeno isn’t scary or dangerous or wrong, it's safe and familiar. Jeno is as much of a home as a roof and four walls, except he’s warmer and made of sturdier stuff. Fear bleeds out of Jaemin with each press of their lips, and he can’t help the smile that presses into Jeno with a small laugh that echoes like music.
Jeno pulls back so that he can laugh too, and the euphoric happiness that surrounds them becomes a bubble, safe but see through, clear but glittering. Jeno is so… perfect, and Jaemin loves him, that much is unavoidable.
“If that’s what you want, then I want it too,” Jeno says with a definitive nod, tucking Jaemin’s overgrown hair behind his ear as if it's a first date. “As long as you’re sure, baby.”
Jaemin leans into Jeno’s touch, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with his own emotions. A tear slips down his cheek that he doesn't even see coming, and with a small sniff he nods fervently, coming down to crush Jeno in a hug. “I want this,” he whispers, so softly it's like a secret. “I want you in every way a person can have someone, and I want it now.”
They squeeze each other tightly, bones popping and laughs wheezing. It’s silly and unnecessary, but Jaemin doesn't care, because being able to release the tension he's been holding for over 20 years is worth every silly moment. Jeno gives him space to be completely and totally human, and then tucks him close to allow him a place to rest.
Jeno is life and love and music and the sun, he’s calloused fingers and hotel sheets and grocery carts. Jeno is everything, and for that Jaemin will give him the world.
A quiet envelops them once they’ve calmed down, hands roaming clothed bodies just for the need to feel. It’s peaceful and simple, a slice of home, disturbed only by the soft voice by which the home is built.
“You’ll have me, Jaemin,” Jeno murmurs with a kiss to the top of Jaemin’s head, like a seal on an envelope that can never be broken. “You’ve always had me.”
And Jaemin knows he always will.