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Jeno is beautiful. Jaemin knows this is a given considering his boyfriend’s entire career and incredible popularity, but still.
He likes to think it’s different. To them—the photographers, the brands using him as a model, the many fans he’s gathered over the years—Jeno is pretty. To them, Jeno is another face among celebrities, with perfectly sculpted details and a pleasant personality.
But they fail to see beyond his charming eye-smiles and sweet-talk.
To Jaemin, Jeno is beautiful. To Jaemin, Jeno has the most glorious laugh he’s ever heard, one that has his heart bursting with so much love and affection he marvels over how he hasn’t yet overflowed with the surge of emotions he gets just by being around him. To Jaemin, Jeno doesn’t need makeup artists and stylists covering up his flaws. To Jaemin, Jeno doesn’t have a single flaw.
And most importantly, to Jaemin, Jeno looks the most beautiful like this.
“Look over here, Jen,” he says, voice soft like he’s afraid to shatter the careful atmosphere they’ve built around them. “That’s it, there it is.”
The click of his camera is almost drowned out by the muffled noise Jeno makes when he tries to speak. There’s a ball gag in his mouth, forcing his jaw open and letting a sliver of drool drip down from the corner of his lips, and Jaemin clicks a few more times to capture the way it travels down his chin and onto his bare chest.
“Just a bit more, baby.”
Jeno makes a noise of complaint, furrowing his brows in a way that looks absolutely breathtaking through the camera lense. Jaemin sees his hands fidget where they’re balled into fists by his sides, and mentally tells himself to hurry up.
He knows that if he asked, Jeno would pose for him for hours on end. But Jaemin isn’t cruel, and he knows that Jeno’s tired from standing under blinding lights and wearing thick layers of makeup and heavy clothing. He already lives under a camera lense, but this is different. These photos aren’t going to be painted onto billboards for propaganda, these photos will be stashed in Jaemin’s computer, or printed out and framed because Jaemin has always told him that art needs to be put on display.
And Jeno is art, to the very core of the word.
The last shot Jaemin takes—for now, because they both know he’s going to whip his camera back out after Jeno’s been properly fucked up—captures the elegant curve of Jeno’s hard dick and the metal clamps on his nipples.
“There you go.” He sets his camera down, albeit hesitantly, and turns his full attention to his beauty of a boyfriend sitting back on his heels on top of their bed. “God, Jeno. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty and you make my whole world spin.”
Jeno, who should be used to both the compliments and the cheesy things Jaemin comes up with on a daily basis, is coy enough to blush and look away.
Jaemin sits in front of him, not bothering to hide the way he rakes his body up and down. His hands reach up to touch him, and he marvels in the way Jeno’s skin feels so hot under his fingertips. They travel from his neck to his shoulders, down his arms and back up to trace the sharp muscles of his chest. He bypasses his nipples and settles his hands just above his dick.
“What do you need me to do to you?” he asks when Jeno whines. He’s well aware his boyfriend can’t do anything, not when he’s been rendered down to arousal and the aching need to please Jaemin.
So, instead of moving his hands like he probably wants to so badly, he grips the sheets beneath them and levels Jaemin’s gaze with one equally as intense. A plea glows behind his brown eyes, but Jaemin pretends he doesn’t see it, just to be a dick.
When he doesn’t move, Jeno flutters his eyelashes and whines again, leaning his body towards Jaemin’s.
And, well, as much as Jaemin wants to tease him some more and push him further over the edge, he is but a weak man. And not even the strongest man could resist the sight of Jeno pliant and eager to obey.
“Baby, look at how hard you are.” He lets one hand glide further down, pretends it isn’t shaking with arousal and an edge of desperateness when he wraps it around Jeno’s dick. “I’ve barely even done anything and you’re already like this. Do you like it that much?”
He knows the answer’s yes, but the way Jeno moans wetly and bucks his hips up is as much of a confirmation as he’ll ever need. He twists his fingers and flicks his wrist, and Jeno, helpless, twitches and pants beneath his touch.
Jaemin lets go, because he recognises the desperateness that flashes in Jeno’s eyes and the edge to his moans, a warning that even if they have barely started, he is already close. He lets his hands wander again, before his eyes zero on the clamps on Jeno’s nipples and a grin spreads across his face. Without warning, he tugs at one of them and revels in the broken moan he gets in return.
Jeno is sensitive, that much Jaemin has always been aware of. He gets whiny and desperate with the lightest of touches, and sometimes all Jaemin has to do is run a hand up his thigh and Jeno’s shoving his tongue down his throat like an excited puppy.
But the one spot that always gets to him, that Jaemin will poke and prod and lick and bite at until he’s writhing and twisting against the bedsheets, are Jeno’s nipples.
“Fuck,” he can’t help but groan when Jeno arches his back.
The clamps are something new—an experiment, if you may. Jaemin had been worried that they’d be too much, that Jeno’s nipples would be far too sensitive to handle something as harsh as that (and he’d be lying if he said that thought alone didn’t turn him on). But looking at him now, flushed and star-eyed with arousal, he knows he’s enjoying it.
So, without a single drop of regret, he twists one of the clamps at the same time that he pulls at the other one, and Jeno mewls.
“Oh my god.”
He does it again, and then again, because he doesn’t know whether to keep his eyes fixed on Jeno’s pretty face screwed in pleasure or his dick, that twitches and leaks with every one of Jaemin’s movements.
He tries to resist, but like he’s said, he’s weak. He lets go and quickly grabs his camera, but Jeno doesn’t seem to have noticed. His head hangs low and his eyes are still squeezed shut, and the quiet breaths he huffs sound like music to Jaemin’s ears.
But that’s okay, because the best photos are the ones Jeno doesn’t see coming, the ones where he doesn’t have to pose or look up at the camera. It’s a caught-in-the-moment kind of thing, and Jaemin doesn’t give him time to think about the shutter of the camera going off, because he’s already reaching forward with one hand to twist and pull and tug.
Jeno’s hands come flying forward when Jaemin grips his cock again, but he doesn’t bother reprimanding him. He looks good like this, scrambling to hold onto his grip on the real world and stop himself from reaching his high when Jaemin hasn’t yet let him.
This time, he doesn’t hear his camera over Jeno’s moans.
“What do you want, baby?” he asks.
Jeno’s shivering and shaking with the effort of stopping his own pending orgasm, but he still manages to open his eyes and look up at him with that half-dazed gaze. Jaemin doesn’t ignore his plea this time around, and reaches forward to slip his fingers along the ball gag. He puts his camera back down and, with his free hand, unclasps the gag.
He’s careful with the way he handles Jeno, helps him open his mouth just a bit wider for the ball to slip out, massages his jaw until he’s sure feeling has come back to it.
The first thing Jeno says is Jaemin’s name, and it sounds so incredibly lewd coming from him with that fucked-out voice that cracks halfway through.
“Baby, Jen, what is it?”
“I want you,” Jeno whines, hands moving up like he wants to touch Jaemin but unsure if he’s allowed to just yet. Jaemin doesn’t let his contemplation go any further and reaches forward to interlace their fingers. “Please, Jaem. Please.”
“You’ve got me right here.”
“I want you inside me. Please.”
And Jaemin would be a monster to deny Jeno anything he ever asks for, so he pushes him back gently until his back is flat against the mattress and spreads his legs open.
Jeno’s still trembling, so he makes sure to be extra careful with the way he drags his hands up and down Jeno’s thighs, across his torso and onto his chest, where he tugs at the clamps and makes the man beneath him flinch. He kisses him, letting their tongues mingle against each other while he reaches blindly for the lube. It isn’t that hard to find, and once his hand wraps around the bottle he pops it open and drizzles some onto his fingers.
“Look at you,” he says when he pulls away. Jeno’s glancing up at him with hooded eyes, that expression he always gets when he’s desperate and horny plastered perfectly on his face. “Have I ever told you you’re fucking beautiful?”
Jeno grins.
“Maybe a couple hundred times.”
Jaemin grunts and easily slips one finger past Jeno’s rim.
“That isn’t enough.”
“Nothing’s enough—ah! Nothing’s enough for you.”
“You’re right,” he whispers, leaning down to peck Jeno’s cheek. “I’m a selfish man when it comes to you, Lee Jeno.”
It earns him an eye roll and a weak slap to his shoulder, but he isn’t blind to the smile on Jeno’s face. It’s soft and honest, so he makes sure to be just as soft and just as honest with the way he fucks him open on his fingers.
His moans grow in pitch when Jaemin’s three fingers in, and all he really wants to do is make Jeno feel good, so he plays with the clamps again and leans forward to nip and bite at his neck. There will be bruises and marks, but the makeup artists will only have to worry about them tomorrow.
“Jaemin.”
“Hmm?”
He curls his fingers until they jab at Jeno’s prostate and moves his mouth up to bite at his jawline. Purple is already starting to blossom where he dragged his lips.
“Jaemin!”
“Yes, baby?”
Jeno makes a noise of frustration and tangles his fingers in Jaemin’s hair, pulling him away from his neck. He looks him dead in the eye.
“Fuck me, Jaemin.”
“Oh my god, Jeno.”
He slips his fingers out and Jeno doesn’t let him go. It’s hard to see what he’s doing, but their bodies know each other so well that it’s barely an effort to slot himself against Jeno’s entrance and press in slowly.
He bottoms out rather quickly, and they’re both immediately rendered into moaning messes that know nothing but how to pleasure each other.
Jeno drags his nail down Jaemin’s back, and Jaemin grips his hips tighter than he needs to because he knows Jeno likes that edge of pain. The sound of skin slapping against skin is lewd and loud even over their mingled moans, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jeno comes when Jaemin tugs off one of the clamps and take his nipple between his teeth. It’s beautiful—because everything about Jeno is beautiful—, the way he arches off the bed and into Jaemin’s mouth, how his mouth opens wide in a silent moan as white-hot pleasure flashes in his eyes. He’s shaking by the time he comes down, but he doesn’t get the chance to gather his senses because Jaemin is fucking into him desperately, chasing his own orgasm.
It crashes onto him like a tidal wave, and for a hot second he sees and feels nothing but the cloudiness that comes with his high.
They both get clingy after sex, which is just another attribute that pulls them together like a perfect piece to each other’s puzzles. Jeno stuffs his nose in Jaemin’s neck and the latter wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, bringing him impossibly closer.
It’s quiet and pleasant after that, with no sound but their soft voices as they talk about everything and nothing at all.
Jaemin tells him he loves him, and the words come as easily as the pull of oxygen in his lungs. And Jeno whispers the same words into Jaemin’s jaw, soft and honest in a way that only he can be.
When Jeno falls asleep, Jaemin can’t resist the urge to snap some photos of his bruised body.