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The only thing Jongin feels when he steps off stage is exhaustion. Even through the satisfaction of a good performance, the fatigue is bone-deep and mind-melting. His muscles burn with exertion, and he wants nothing more than to lay down for the next hour or two. But there are backstage rituals to go through, and an after-party to attend, so he cracks his neck and let's Jongdae guide him to the dressing room.
He tilts his face up and sniffs at the air discreetly, hoping to catch Sehun’s scent as everybody starts filing inside, but there are too many people, and too many layers of scent suppressants to get past. His eyes droop slightly in disappointment, Jongdae catches him around the waist, lips curled up in a reassuring grin.
It’s nice for a moment—Jongdae is pack after all—but it’s still not what Jongin needs. Especially not when all of them have smeared on enough scent-suppressant to escape an omega in heat. Jongin has to be careful too, not to look too needy, or too soft, or too shy—at least not when he can’t play it off as fan-service. Only the oldest members of the staff know their secondary-sex, and it wouldn’t be wise to let the others find out, even with the non-disclosure agreements.
Junmyeon begins his speech, words of thanks that he’s spoken a hundred times before, practiced but no less meaningful. Jongin wilts against Jongdae’s shoulder, breaths evening out to the cadence of Junmyeon’s voice. It’s bothersome to tilt his face against Jongdae’s shoulder only to be confronted by the thick neutrality of a suppressant instead of his warm peppery scent.
Jongdae must sense his turmoil because he tilts his face closer, cheek to Jongin’s cheek. “Are you alright? Should I call Sehunie?”
His voice is carefully low, the syllables hidden cleverly behind an exhale.
Jongin shakes his head, “I’m okay.” Sehunie would have to wait until all the technicians and secondary staff cleared out.
Jongin zones out for the rest of Junmyeon’s speech, eyes slipping shut as Jongdae drags his knuckles against his scalp. They’ve been doing this for long enough now that he can sleep standing up if he really tries, and while Jongdae is a little too short for it to be comfortable, Jongin makes do.
He rouses moments later to another set of arms slipping around him, and even through the haze of sleep and suppressants, Jongin smiles. He knows these arms and he knows the chest he’s pulled against.
Jongdae pinches his cheek and walks away to get his makeup wiped off.
“You’re tired.” Sehun notes, voice deep and soft with concern. He wraps an arm around Jongin’s waist, and another higher up on his back, anchoring Jongin against his front.
Jongin tucks his nose against the gland at Sehun’s neck, and fidgets immediately at the lack of scent.
“You haven’t taken off your blockers yet?” He reaches up to thumb at the junction between Sehun’s neck and shoulder, ignoring the way Sehun shudders slightly.
“And have everyone smell ‘concerned alpha’ on me? No, of course not.”
“Concerned about me?” Jongin goads, a pleased smile on his lips.
“No. Kyungsoo hyung.” Sehun retorts, but his palm ventures lower against the small of Jongin’s back.
“Go back home with him them.”
The celebrity personas slip away. Now, in the room with just a handful of their closest managers and makeup noonas, Jongin doesn’t have to worry about looking too needy, too clingy, too soft.
“We came here in my car.” Sehun says, petulant. And then succumbs immediately to Jongin’s answering pout.
“Besides, how could I?” He amends, crooning and pulling Jongin closer.
Jongin grumbles in approval, but he’s back to smiling now, greedy for affection.
Junmyeon sends them off to change and collect their things. Jongin slips into the clothes he’d worn to rehearsal and throws on a black hoodie that belongs to Sehun. It’s old, nondescript, its edges worn soft with numerous washes. Sehun’s scent permeates each stitch, and when Jongin pulls it on, he finally feels the anxious edge to his fatigue start to ebb.
Everyone says their goodbyes at the entrance before separating into their own cars. It’s all quick and hushed to avoid any lingering fans or cameras. Jongin settles into Sehun’s car, clicking on the seatbelt before inhaling deeply.
“I hate that I can’t smell you at all.” Sehun complains as he backs out of his parking spot.
Jongin nestles further into the buttery leather. “Soon.”
They head to the secluded bar they usually rent out for after-parties, it’s a well-worn ritual, one that Jongin would never think of skipping even with how tired he is. He rolls down the tinted windows and let’s the breeze melt his exhaustion away. Once his limbs feel less like lead he reaches into the glove compartment, fingers wrapping blindly around the pack of wet wipes that Sehun keeps there.
He meets Sehun’s eyes over the console, his face glowing blue in the lights from the dashboard. Jongin wipes off his own suppressant first, scrubbing at the wax over his scent glands with the wet tissue. He watches as Sehun’s fingers rhythmically tighten and loosen against the steering wheel, already reacting to the way Jongin’s scent slowly unfurls in the confined space of the car.
He bunches up the used wipes and waits until they reach a red light before reaching over towards Sehun’s neck. Sehun shifts slightly, breaths heavy in the quiet, his chin tilting away to give Jongin more room to work. They’ve done this thousands of times before, but that doesn’t stop the way Jongin’s cheek dimples at the first hints of Sehun’s scent.
“Fuck, that feels so much better,” Sehun sighs, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders after Jongin’s hands have retreated back to his lap.
The bar is in a sleek highrise, with keycards for the elevators and burly security guards crowding the entrance. Sehun parks smoothly in the spot he usually uses, and promptly switches out his cotton button-down for a soft fleece crewneck that Jongin had bought for him last month. His scent bursts through the car, warm and spicy and enough to make Jongin shift unsubtly in his seat.
Sehun’s nose twitches and he grins at the way Jongin’s pheromones seep into the air between them.
“We won’t be here long,” he promises, a warm palm reaching for Jongin’s jaw over the console to cajole his lips between his own.
The kiss is exquisitely familiar, it’s the same kiss Jongin wakes up to and the same one he falls asleep to. Before they leave Sehun’s fingers slip to his chin, gently tilting his face up so he can nuzzle into Jongin’s scent gland and smear his own scent there.
Jongin huffs despite the satisfaction that courses through him. “No one upstairs is going to challenge your claim.”
Sehun pulls away, “I know. It’s just nice to not have to hide sometimes.”
Jongin closes the distance between them again, and he pulls away to whisper against Sehun’s mouth. “Let’s leave early, okay? We’ve worked hard.”
The party easily enfolds them once the elevator doors slide open, already loud and glittering. All it takes is a flushed, wine-drunk Baekhyun to lose Sehun in the crowd. Jongin pouts a little when he ends up in Jongdae’s arms again, this time snuggled close to his undiluted scent. He manages to nurse two complete drinks before the restlessness hits. These parties still make him a little antsy, even with how familiar and intimate the crowd is, and how many legal contracts protect them from getting exposed. It’s hard not to feel nervous when he’s been asked to hide for the better part of two decades.
“I can smell you stressing from here, stop it.” Jongdae chides gently, thumbing the scent gland on Jongin’s neck. It feels nice, different from the hot, electric pulse that runs down his spine when Sehun touches it, but nice.
“It’s crowdy, and ‘m tired hyung.” Jongin slurs into his shoulder.
Someone presses another glass into his hand, and despite his usual aversion to drinking, it tastes good. Like cranberries and sugar on his tongue and the slight heat of soju down his throat. Jongdae deposits him next to Kyungsoo, and on any normal night Jongin would protest being babysat like this, but tonight it’s comforting. Almost everything he needs.
Almost. His gaze travels past Kyungsoo’s shoulder, wandering a bit before settling on where Sehun stands by the bar. Jongin frowns when he sees Sehun and Baekhyun talking to one of the new backup dancers, eyes narrowing when the dancer reaches forward to cup Sehun’s bicep, and throws his head back just so when he laughs, making sure his scent gland tilts enticingly towards Sehun.
Kyungsoo must catch the change in his scent, the creeping sourness of possession, because he rolls his eyes affectionately. “Are you going to go over?” he asks, the whisky he’s nursing has smoothened his voice to a low drawl.
Jongin flops onto his shoulder. “I don’t want to get up.”
“Don’t lie Nini,” Kyungsoo laughs, his fingers reaching to tuck Jongin’s hair behind his ears. It’s getting long these days. “Everyone loves staking a claim when no one is looking. Or actually-” Kyungsoo tips his glass incriminatingly towards him, “-when just the right people are.”
His tone is a bit too knowing. Jongin supposes they’ve all lived similar enough lives, thinly balanced on the knife's edge of fame. He grins at Kyungsoo and preens when Kyungsoo grins in return, his clean, bergamot scent sweetening with fondness.
After, Jongin stumbles over to where Sehun and Baekhyun are standing. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trips over his feet and straight into Sehun’s outstretched arms. He’d planned to make some sort of a statement, to give the dancer the stink eye while standing next to him just so he could smell Sehun’s scent on Jongin. But his brain turns to cotton the second he gets close enough, Sehun's scent blanketing him thickly as he curls dazedly into his chest.
Sehun pulls him into himself, a long arm wrapping around Jongin’s side as he holds his drink in his other hand. He’s delightfully warm, a firm line of heat against Jongin’s front, and his nose brushes tenderly against Jongin’s temple when he asks.“You wanna head back home? Are you done for tonight?”
The sense of safety that floods every cell in Jongin’s body has his eyes drooping and his cheek pressing closer to Sehun’s shoulder. Maybe it’s a little more intimate than they usually get at these things, but they’re in one of the darker corners of the bar and Jongin is too tired and too tipsy to play at pretenses.
He’s even forgotten about the dancer until he speaks again, stuttering out a goodbye with a bow, even as his wide-eyes linger on the pair before him. Jongin watches the way his nose twitches at their combined scents. Baekhyun laughs drunkenly and mutters something about looking for Chanyeol and Minseok and drifts away too. And then, it’s just them again.
Jongin leans in incrementally further, and goes pliant against the sturdy frame of Sehun’s chest. He groans in approval when Sehun’s arms sway them slowly in place. They must look strange, Jongin thinks, slow and secluded in the dubstep and liquor of the bar.
“I could smell you,” Sehun huffs. “There was no need to scare him off like that, you know it wasn’t going anywhere,” he sounds more amused than reprimanding.
Jongin tilts back to look him in the eye, his breaths shallow against Sehun’s chin and gaze sticky-slow as it tracks the sloping lines of his face. “It’s nice to not have to hide sometimes,” he mimics from earlier, lips splitting into a sly grin.
“Yeah, okay.” Sehun mumbles distractedly, and cleverly angles them away from the crowd to stamp a kiss against Jongin’s mouth, lips wet and plush. “I think we should leave.”
They don’t even bother saying goodbye, choosing to drop a quick text to the group chat instead.
“Dibs on the bathroom,” Jongin claims through a yawn when they’re pulling into the parking lot.
“No, you went first last night.”
“Dibs is dibs,” Jongin answers serenely, unheeding.
“We wouldn’t have this problem if we just showered together,” Sehun whines and sags away from the steering wheel in a tantrum.
Jongin turns to him consideringly, and Sehun stares back in silence, his eyes beseeching.
Jongin narrows his eyes, "I'll think about it."
Sehun’s apartment always smells like them. Smells like a pretty mixture of their scents that Jongin rarely gets to wear on his skin. His sheets are a story in companionship, extra-wrinkled on Jongin’s side because he sleeps curled like a shrimp, and crowded by the rumpled duvet on Sehun’s side because he seems to wrestle it in his sleep. There are two toothbrushes by the sink, two towels behind the door, and two pairs of socks scattered between the bedroom door and the laundry room. They call it Sehun’s apartment, because Jongin has his own place 3 minutes away, but these numbers are all the same. Two for two.
Sehun kisses him the second they walk in. It isn’t desperate and full of teeth, the way their kisses used to be years ago, when the four hours of sleep before their next schedule dwindled with every second spent awake. This kiss is slow, and despite its chasteness Jongin feels the honey of it spill down his throat.
It doesn’t build to anything more, it won’t—there’s no hurry. They can wait until after they’ve peeled away the layers of makeup and sweat. Jongin steps into the heat of the shower less than twenty minutes later, the pressure of the water feels staccato and perfect on his back. The shower stall is spacious enough for them to go about their routines separately, and Jongin only turns when Sehun starts lathering the shampoo in his hair.
It isn’t long before the steam clouds with their pheromones, but the scent is too familiar now for it to have the same debilitating effect on Jongin as it did when they were younger. He wrinkles his nose at the particularly strong burst Sehun pushes out when he catches Jongin bending over to pick up his fallen loofah.
“How are you still so easy?” Jongin laughs, letting Sehun wrap his arms around his shoulders to bring him closer.
“I just never got my fill when we were younger.” And he’s joking, but there’s a morsel of truth there somewhere.
Jongin knows it too. Back then it had felt incessant—an endless well of want constantly churning in his gut. All that desperation had made them fight more often than it had made them fuck. It was frustrating to have to love someone from afar, no matter how reciprocated, and Sehun had always been more reserved. Always seemed like he was handling it better, and it had made Jongin feel crazy before he realized it wasn’t true.
Jongin shakes away the unpleasantness and passes Sehun his toothbrush before popping his own in his mouth. He watches them in the mirror, side by side in their towels, the way they are most nights. Sehun smiles at him, his cheeks pushing out and toothpaste circling his mouth, and Jongin thinks it doesn’t matter how hard it was all those years ago, they’re here now. They’re here now and that means the second he bends to rinse his mouth, Sehun steps up behind him, and presses his hips into Jongin’s ass.
Jongin licks his lips, feels a telltale shiver of heat skittering up his spine and down his legs. Sehun steps closer, his chest warm, warm, warm against Jongin’s back, with the slight bulge under the knot of his towel pushing between Jongin’s cheeks. Jongin blows out a low breath, anticipation simmering low in his stomach even though there are more practical matters to take care of first;
“Will you kiss me with all that toothpaste in your mouth baby?” Jongin whispers breathily, cutting the moment cleanly in half.
Sehun huffs, annoyed, and shifts away to spit in the sink and finish washing up. “I was going to wash, would it have killed you to indulge me for a second.”
“I’ll indulge you all night if you get us on the bed in the next 30 seconds.” Jongin says and feels his knees go weak at the pheromones Sehun’s pumping out now, heady and inviting and delicious.
Sehun is on him between one breath and the next. He deposits him on their huge bed in long, easy strides. Sehun hovers over him for a moment, his gaze eager and anticipatory, but the way he moves Jongin is painfully gentle.
“How’s your back doing?”
Jongin shakes his head, “I’m good, it’s good. I had physio every other day this week.”
“Do I have to go easy on you tonight?” Sehun laughs, eyes crinkling into Jongin’s favorite smile.
They’ve had nights like those too, when Jongin’s back feels too tender for him to do anything but sit on Sehun’s knot for hours, hips circling maddeningly slow until Sehun’s eyes are teary. That’s fun too, but tonight isn’t for that.
“No,” Jongin licks his lips reflexively and goes tingly at the way Sehun’s eyes track the movement. “No, you don’t alpha.”
Sehun’s grin is wolfish, pleased. The kiss he presses against Jongin’s mouth is different from the one Jongin wakes up to, different from the one he falls asleep to, too. It’s wet and filthy and full of teeth. Tomorrow Jongin will complain about the way his lips are raw and puffy, will secretly press his fingers against them when he’s brushing his teeth. But right now he just gasps into Sehun’s mouth, his arms coming to wrap around his shoulders as he sinks into the sensation.
Sehun’s fingers smooth down his jaw, warm palms sliding over his scent gland and pressing down purposefully with the heel. Jongin whines, something primal and needy unfurling in his chest, as the heat begins to crest lower in his stomach. Sehun’s fingers glide down his chest as his mouth replaces his hand on Jongin’s gland, his thumbs rub slow dizzying circles around Jongin’s nipples, only to draw up and pinch the tight peaks of them. Jongin automatically arches into it, whining at the searing tightness low in his stomach. It grows tighter and tighter as Sehun sucks at his scent gland, tighter until release translates into the first wave of warm slick trickling down his thigh. Jongin goes boneless in the sheets.
Sehun pulls away from where he’s mapping heady kisses against his throat, nostrils flaring, and his pheromones go dizzyingly haywire when the scent of slick reaches him.
“Oh, baby,” he mutters, low and raspy as his hands fumble against where Jongin’s towel is tucked against the tight dip of his waist.
Jongin shudders at how breathy he sounds and his hands reach to grasp Sehun’s shoulders when Sehun dips lower. Sehun looks bigger than he is like this, the breadth of his shoulders hiding the way his waist tapers inwards, the wide width of his palms over Jongin’s bare hips once he tugs the towel away. Jongin moans encouragingly at the hot kiss he presses right under his belly button.
Sehun moves lower, too impatient to move with much grace or finesse, and the warm weight of his palms moves from Jongin's hips to his thighs. Jongin bends his knees slightly so Sehun has enough space to lay flat on the bed, shins coming to rest over his shoulders and against Sehun’s ribs.
"You smell so fucking good, is your heat close?" Sehun mumbles, lips smooshed somewhere along the inside of Jongin's knee.
Jongin shakes his head, speaks around a tremulous inhale as Sehun's mouth moves higher. "No—uh, I had to take suppressants for tour, r-remember? It's probably gonna be late."
"I don't think so, not with you smelling like th—" Sehun’s answer is lost to the loud moan that rips from Jongin's lips when his mouth reaches the spot high, high, high up the inside of his thigh. Right where the soft skin of his inner thighs meets his groin, just inches beneath his perineum. Sehun’s lips hover over the scar there, the skin raised slightly in a perfect print of Sehun's teeth.
Jongin shivers when Sehun licks over the mating bite, his thighs already glossed over with slick.
"Don't tease," Jongin gripes even as his hand fists in Sehun's hair.
Sehun presses his teeth into it, not enough to break skin, but enough to make Jongin's thighs quiver. "You're so wet," Sehun groans reverently, "I could just slip in, no prep, nothing."
"Do it then," Jongin growls, petulant now. His cheeks feel flushed and warm, and the tight ball of heat steadily unspools in his stomach at the way Sehun keeps kissing and nipping at the bite. It's high enough that no one outside the two of them will ever see it or know it's there. And while a young Jongin had wished he had one on his neck to parade around like everyone else, an older Jongin is grateful for a secret that is so decidedly his own.
Sometimes when they're apart for too long because of work, Jongin will stand under the shower, the minutes slipping by like the beads on an abacus, with his fingers pressed to the scar. Sehun has his own, right beside where his hip bone dips inwards at the waist. It's deeper than the one Sehun had given him; Jongin had fashioned it halfway through a turbulent heat, and it looks the part.
Sehun mouths sloppily at the scar, ventures some tentative licks to his perineum when Jongin’s legs spread and his knees hook over Sehun’s shoulders. And when Sehun rises for air, his lips glisten obscenely with slick—but Jongin wants more, needs more, the way a cramping muscle needs to be unwound.
“If you wanted me to fall asleep you just should’ve said so,” he complains, and shamelessly ignores the way his knees twitch with residual pleasure.
Sehun bites vengefully at his thigh, and the drops down to kiss and tongue at his rim just to hear the way Jongin yelps and yanks him closer by the hair. He licks into him lusciously, grazing his teeth against the pliant muscle as Jongin whines and arches his back.
“You’re so full of shit,” Sehun laughs when he sits up again, wiping the slick off his jaw with the back of his hand.
Jongin grumbles and wiggles his hips impatiently. “C’mon, c’monn-”
He breaks off into a soft, satiated sigh when Sehun pushes the first finger in gently. His fingers are long, perfect, wide around the knuckles in a way that makes Jongin pull his lower lip between his teeth.
“I’m gonna put in two more, okay?” Sehun asks, but it sounds choppy and choked, and Jongin clenches evilly around his fingers just to hear his broken groan.
His victory is short-lived because seconds later Sehun pushes in three fingers and curls them purposefully towards his prostate. Jongin presses his head back into pillows as subdued desperation begins rising to the surface again. He can hear the squelch of slick and it would make him flush if he hadn’t been fucking the same alpha for a decade.
“You’re so wet, and you-” Sehun swallows audibly, “you smell so fucking good I could pop a knot right now.”
The confession cuts through the haze of pleasure, and snags onto something primal and possessive in Jongin.
“Not without getting in me,” he grouses and it’s followed by his knees tightening painfully around Sehun’s hips.
Sehun nods dumbly, swallows again, looks stupidly attractive even with how dazed he is, his gaze stuck on the way his fingers disappear into Jongin’s body.
“Sehun,” Jongin demands, a little louder than necessary.
“Sorry- sorry, let me just-” Sehun doesn’t bother completing the sentence, instead he pulls his fingers out to grab Jongin’s thighs. Jongin recoils slightly at the way the slick from his hands sticks to the outside of his knee, but he forgets all about it when Sehun settles onto his shins, pulls Jongin’s thighs apart and drags him closer.
Jongin watches with anticipation as Sehun tugs away the unravelling towel clinging to his hips, his bulge straining obnoxiously against the fabric. His cock slaps against his abs when he finally yanks the towel away and tosses it unthinkingly to the floor. Sehun buckles in relief when he tugs at himself, and Jongin exhales shallowly and whines softly at the sight of Sehun’s big hands smearing the precum from tip to root. And then, in the space between breaths, Sehun holds himself by the base and every thick, hard inch of him sinks smoothly into Jongin.
It’s quiet for a moment, and Jongin’s own ragged breath rings in his ears. His body goes lax with pleasure, thighs spreading, hips tilting up, head tilting back. It’s always so perfect, all these years and it’s always the same hot, breathtaking fullness. It makes him feel tightly held, anchored.
“God, that never gets old,” Sehun pants throatily, his palms drop on either side of Jongin’s head as he hunches over him.
Jongin wants to agree, wants to quip back something clever, but he can’t seem to find the words. Can’t seem to do anything but stare at Sehun with wide, teary eyes. In all the years that they’ve been fucking, he thinks his body’s trained itself to take Sehun’s knot, to turn sloppy and sensitive at the very hint of it.
Sehun starts moving his hips, eyes dark and stuck on him. He doesn’t wait for Jongin to answer, and Jongin doesn’t know what kind of picture he makes, whether he even looks capable of answering anymore. Whatever it is though, it makes Sehun’s scent turn protective, delicious.
“Look so good right now Nini.” He grunts, hips snapping faster and deeper. “Gonna look so perfect on my knot.”
Jongin moans with pleasure, every nerve ending singing with it as Sehun’s thrusts pick up and his hips start slapping the back of Jongin’s thighs. He bares his throat, and his swollen lips part around sounds that he’s unaware of making when Sehun starts nipping at the soft skin over his gland.
“Fug-fuckohmygod,” Jongin slurs, fingers tightening in Sehun’s hair when Sehun widens his stance, pushing Jongin’s thighs out in a delicious painful stretch. Then he starts aiming his thrusts up, scraping along Jongin’s spot with every punch of his hips.
Sehun groans at the way Jongin starts keening soft and sweet in his ears, before rising back onto his palms. He pushes his forearms closer to the tops of Jongin’s shoulders, locking him in place, before working his hips into him, deep and fast. Jongin’s fingers bunch into the sheet, breath pushed out of his lungs as he savours the mind-numbing, toe-curling pressure low in his belly.
The bulge of Sehun’s knot catches on his rim, growing slowly, and Jongin feels like he can taste the fullness in the back of his throat. It’s impossible to stop the slur of desperate, desperate pleas that spill from his lips into the heat between them.
“Alphaalphaalpha, Sehunie l- ah, please.” he hiccups, fingers mapping out the focus on Sehun’s face, his pinched eyebrows and his sweat-slicked chest heaving with effort as he grounds his knot into Jongin’s body.
“Jongin—baby, I want you to give me one before I knot okay?” He grits out, and Jongin doesn’t understand what he means until long fingers come to wrap around his hard cock. Sehun starts jerking him off roughly, thumb pressing into the slit and fingers massaging over his length.
“Ohh, oh fuck—Seh-”
“Come on, come on baby” Sehun grits out, fingers tightening on the downstroke at the same time as he lodges his fully-formed knot into Jongin’s body.
And Jongin does, the black behind his eyelids sparking with it and the heat in low in stomach exploding outwards to the tips of his body. He moans out Sehun’s name, in a long, and drawn out whine, breath caught in his chest and head tilted as far back as it’ll go.
Sehun has them turned onto their sides when he comes to, his thigh hoisted over Sehun’s hip. Sehun kisses him the second his eyes flutter open, lips soft and wet as he moves sinuously, gently pressing his knot deeper. The sound of slick sticking and unsticking between them is obscene but it makes something in Jongin purr. Jongin exhales, the tail end of it turning into a moan when Sehun’s knot pushes against his prostate.
“Too soon,” he husks against Sehun’s mouth.
Sehun shakes his head, palms smoothing down the sides of Jongin’s ribs, “want you to come again, with me this time.”
Jongin whines when Sehun’s hips shift again and Sehun must realize it’s out of discomfort not pleasure because he stills again.
“Okay, how do you wanna do this?”
Jongin bites his lips, “me on top?”
Instead of answering Sehun wraps his arms around his waist and rolls onto his back. Jongin sits up after, already dreading the way his legs are going to cramp if they don’t finish soon.
“Ohhh you’re so much deeper like this ah,” he moans, throwing his head back, hips tentatively moving back and forth. Sehun’s knot massages him from the inside, achey and hot. He can’t move up or down with the way Sehun’s knot locks them together, but he won’t have to with the way Sehun’s already reacting to this. Jongin can feel his lower stomach flex and unflex under his palms, tight with restraint.
“I’m gonna come,” Sehun pants, hands reverently pressed to Jongin’s hips. “Are you close?”
Jongin nods, breathes harshly through his nose when Sehun’s fingers wrap around his waist again. He knows when Sehun’s close because of the way he gets louder, moans low and deep as he desperately paws at Jongin’s stomach and his chest. Jongin starts swivelling his hips harder, sobbing at the way Sehun’s knot rubs against his walls, circling tighter and tighter until Sehun finally grabs him by the underside of his thighs and pulls him up slightly so he feels the stretch at his rim.
He comes again, just like that, clenching and wailing Sehun’s name with his head to the sky as Sehun pumps him full, perfect. He rides out the wave, hiccuping with pleasure when he finally slumps on to Sehun’s chest and let’s him rock both of them to completion.
The next morning is cold and cloudy, autumn shearing the light from days. He wakes to Sehun licking over his scent gland, no heat to it, just comfort, as they curl together in the warmth of the duvet. Jongin grumbles, pouts at being roused so early.
"I have to leave in 30 minutes," Sehun whispers apologetically, stamping kisses all over his face. "Shower with me?"
Outwardly, it's an ordinary morning—wonderful in its normalcy—but ordinary. The only difference is the way their scents have melted together and mellowed out. Sehun complains the entire time he applies the company-sanctioned scent-blocker, and Jongin revels at the rare day he can go without it. They drink milky, sugary coffee on Vivi’s couch (dubbed so because of the nightmarish amount of fur caught in the smooth felt). Then Sehun leaves to finish some work at the company, and Jongin leaves with him to grab his own car from his apartment.
He meets Moonkyu downtown, in one of the old barbecue places by the art gallery they like to frequent. He’s achy the entire ride there, slightly sore in spots, but according to Moonkyu he reeks of contentment so he has little to complain about. Fall takes colour around them and Jongin sits there, blithe and bruised and well-loved in ways their busy lives don't often allow him to be. Lovestained.