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When Jonghyun’s eyes open at two thirty-four in the morning, the first thing he’s greeted with is Jinki’s empty bed, sheets folded neatly and pillows arranged in such a way that makes Jonghyun wonder if he ever even sleeps in it at all.
It's not a surprise. Jonghyun's used to it by now, but he never sees Jinki slip out of their shared room and he’s starting to wonder what kind of business he has so late at night that he has to operate so quietly. Jonghyun sighs, rubs at the grit in his eyes and sits up. He didn’t plan on sleeping much tonight, anyway.
It had started a few months ago, during their company-mandated break, when Jinki had been so occupied with his phone that Jonghyun was starting to get pissed off - just what was he doing? Who the hell was he texting? - and the thinly-veiled jealousy towards whoever had stolen Jinki's attention away from him had boiled over into an angry confrontation. Just like that, Jonghyun and Jinki's usual teasing banter had fizzled out into long awkward silences.
Of course it was going to happen eventually. Last year, Minho and Kibum had argued almost every day for a month, and Jonghyun bickered with the other members over silly little things all the time. It came as a package deal with their dreams; shoving five boys into a cramped dormitory and hoping for the best was bound to come with setbacks.
But why Jinki? Jinki doesn’t argue. He sits you down and talks you through it, rubs your back when you start crying because it’s too much and you’re sorry you raised your voice at him. Why had he suddenly fought back? Told Jonghyun to mind his own business? He was losing sleep over it. Especially because their shared room was filled with a perpetual tension that was starting to seep into the whole dormitory: even Taemin had tried to step in and help, but Jonghyun had assured him that it was just a simple disagreement. They’d get over it eventually. Probably soon.
And of course, just when Jonghyun was starting to cool off, it had started: the late night conquests, Jinki returning at dawn without a word, how he always looked a little disheveled before throwing himself back into bed and napping until the sun came up. So no, he hadn’t apologised, but neither had Jinki, their cold war at a vicious standstill.
Jonghyun buries his head in his hands. Why does he care so much?
Deep down he knows Jinki’s out there doing something stupid, because underneath all that dependable-and-sweet-leader shit he’s just as wayward as the rest of them, and it stresses Jonghyun out knowing that Jinki might get hurt out there on the big bad streets of Seoul. If only he could be honest. If only Jinki could come clean and just talk about how he’s feeling instead of bottling it up and acting out when nobody else is looking. Oh, and maybe Jinki could stop chatting people up via text as well while he’s at it. That would be nice.
Suddenly Jonghyun’s angry again, and he’s looking at Jinki’s bed like he might reappear under the covers, like Jonghyun’s imagined the whole thing and his own brain is conjuring shit up to mess with him. He’s so dazed, stumbling out of his own bed and falling into Jinki’s, laying there as if he might absorb whatever thoughts Jinki had left behind before departing.
His mattress is soft, firmer than Jonghyun’s because of his bad back (hah), and kind of uncomfortable; it’s no wonder he doesn’t spend much time in it. Jonghyun shifts, then, trying to position himself comfortably against the soft-firmness and pretend he’s Jinki instead. What would he do, what would he think about? Would he be as restless as Jonghyun is now?
He groans, shifting again because there’s definitely something wrong with Jinki’s bed - despite the silky feel of the cushions and bedsheets there’s a glaring issue, a sharp discomfort digging into Jonghyun’s back, against his spine, the tender nerves there.
He’s laying on top of something, surely. That makes sense. When Jonghyun sits up and feels around where he was laid, there’s a slight unevenness to the duvet - hard, rectangular. Warm. When Jonghyun really focuses, he can hear the gentle whir of electronics, his keen ear picking up a muffled hum that sounds just as wired as he is.
Jonghyun sticks his hand underneath the duvet and blindly searches for the offending item. Something Jinki wanted to hide. Something that Jonghyun is not allowed to see. It spurs him on further, digging around until his fingertips meet hard plastic, pulling out an inconspicuous looking laptop that fits neatly in Jonghyun’s lap.
Jinki’s laptop. So plain it’s obviously his. Warmed by internal processes and the stress of hiding from Jonghyun’s wandering hands.
He stares at it as if it were alive, as if it could scold him for not keeping to himself - but it draws him in. Unassuming.
Then, Jonghyun has the worst idea. Something cruel and boundary-breaking - he should look, nosy around in Jinki’s private files until he finds something worth laughing at. It's silent payback for the cold shoulder he’s been receiving (and returning) for the past few weeks, revenge that will satiate a sick part of his soul until all is forgiven and SHINee is back in their honeymoon phase.
Jinki doesn’t have to know. He won’t know. He's not tech-savvy enough to realise, Jonghyun reasons with himself.
So he does it.
Laying back, finally comfortable, Jonghyun opens the lid, noting that Jinki doesn’t keep his precious files behind a password lock, and settles on the home screen of a laptop that’s not his own. Jinki’s background is a sweet picture of the five of them from a couple of years ago, huddled for warmth in a star-shaped circle, blankets and coats covering up their garish outfits. Jonghyun feels bad, remembering the day clearly - how Kibum had slapped Jinki’s arm after a poor joke, the warm laughter they’d shared, the brief, passing thought of I’ll love these people forever.
It doesn't stop him though.
There’s a few applications open, minimised into the taskbar to hide whatever Jinki was browsing before he disappeared. Internet browser, emails, and a mysterious folder that piques Jonghyun’s interest immediately. Looking at Jinki’s internet history would be fun, but probably boring - this, however, feels much more naughty. Just what does Jinki deem important enough to save on his hard drive?
The anxious remorse twists into something more exciting, and his heart rate picks up as he hovers the cursor over the file and double-clicks with little hesitation. It takes a second, and Jonghyun isn’t sure what he’s looking at, until, wait -
What the fuck?
The folder’s full of amateur porn videos. Jonghyun gapes, a little dumbfounded as he scrolls through endless low-quality thumbnails of pretty boys in various states of distress.
Christ, Jinki’s dedicated.
It’s hard to tell, but it almost seems like they all feature the same man, and Jonghyun can’t help but pity how hopelessly in love Jinki is with this poor boy that he has all this content on hand, tucked away inconspicuously in a blank ‘new folder’ on his laptop. Does he really jerk off that much? Is this why he’s so strung up all the time?
He notes how the videos are all dated, some even marked as the same day, and - hold on. Jonghyun scrolls back up.
One of these is from yesterday.
Jonghyun’s chest tightens. That morning, Jinki had been so moody. Maybe it was because his favourite pornstar hadn’t uploaded a new video for the past few days and he was itching to get off to something, anything. Maybe when he left the dorm that night it was to have some real alone time away from the keen ears of his bandmates, away from Jonghyun.
A one night stand? Maybe. Is Jinki the type of guy to even do one night stands?
So Jinki’s sleeping in a stranger’s bed every night, sure. Whatever, he can do what he wants - if he wants to go out and jerk off with some other guys then sure, Jonghyun really doesn’t care.
(Well, he does care about SHINee’s reputation as a group. Jinki should care, too, but he obviously doesn’t.)
Now Jonghyun’s head hurts. His heart is racing and his stomach feels sick, a mixture of anxiety and a newfound sense of wonder, curiosity about Jinki’s hobbies.
Does Jinki fuck guys? What does he prefer - giving, or receiving? Does he moan as sweetly as he sings?
Jonghyun’s thoughts wander, again, to yesterday - the video, the late night escapade. Yesterday, when Jinki had sulked basically all day until he’d slipped out under the cover of darkness and returned at dawn with a renewed vigour, a pep in his step. Or, now he thinks about it, was it more of a hobble?
His head is all over the place. Is Jinki subscribed to some sort of black-market gay porn website that specialises in poorly filmed content, or are these… homemade?
Oh God.
They are.
Jonghyun starts looking at the dates, and it’s not like he’s been keeping track of Jinki’s absences, but it’s all starting to line up.
And, what the fuck, the ‘boy’ in the preview isn’t just some random guy off the internet - it’s Jinki, pushed down against a stranger’s mattress, hair fanned out around the crown of his head.
It’s Jinki. It really is.
There’s no one else it could be, because when Jonghyun really looks, eyes half-shut in the grim darkness of his bedroom, he notices the telltale curve of Jinki’s nose, the heart shape of his lips, his eyes, freshly-dyed hair stuck to his forehead.
“What the fuck,” Jonghyun whispers, the words spilling past his lips involuntarily. “What?”
He almost laughs. It’s kind of absurd. Sweet, shy Onew of SHINee is a degenerate - a pervert that films his own sex tapes and watches them back to remember how good he’d been fucked by whichever man had answered his late-night call first. Probably touches himself, too, until he comes into his hand, high on the lingering euphoria.
When the thought had crossed Jonghyun’s mind initially, he’d dismissed it, because he was sure Jinki wasn’t that sleazy. But, well, there you go. Turns out he is.
Jonghyun doesn’t want to watch them.
Of course he doesn’t.
But he’s so curious. It’s already eating away at him, hands trembling as he browses the folder again and again, squinting to make out the positions Jinki’s bent into - he’s always been flexible - feeling a sick twinge of pleasure when he imagines Jinki being spoiled and pampered by an older guy. Stroking his damp hair and easing him down onto his cock -
Jonghyun chokes on his own drool. He’s already half-hard and it’s embarrassing. Since when did he have a thing for his leader?
Just one, maybe. It wouldn’t hurt. Jinki doesn’t ever have to know. He won’t know. Jonghyun will be so, so careful.
It’s definitely his lingering resentment that leads him to the most recent one, trackpad sweaty under the pads of his fingers, and not the fact that the thought of watching Jinki at his most vulnerable is starting to make him hot under the collar.
He opens the file, mouth dry when the preview full-screens and Jinki’s there by himself. Jonghyun bites his lip and presses play.
It begins with Jinki kneeling down on a bed in clothes he was definitely wearing the other night, cheeks already rosy from anticipation; the angle’s weird, though, set up for something else less tame.
Jinki starts by trying to unbutton his jeans. His hands must be clammy, because he struggles, and then there’s a sudden burst of gentle laughter followed by a request for him to relax. The voice is familiar but Jonghyun can’t think clearly enough to try and decipher who it might be, blinded by a brain fog thick enough to knock him out.
More importantly, Jinki looks mortified. His cute little eyelashes are already wet, smiling nervously like he does when he’s bowing to accept an award. His chest is heaving, hands still fumbling with his fly, the small button right above it.
“Hey, come here.” There’s that disembodied voice again. “I’ll take care of that.”
Dark, jet black hair manoeuvres into frame, and Jonghyun thinks, suddenly, that this person also looks weirdly familiar even from the back. He manages to peel away the tight denim, easing it down Jinki’s thighs slowly, carefully, exposing the delicate curve of Jinki’s hips and his brightly coloured briefs - which of course, are strangely cute.
Jonghyun’s cock twitches in his shorts as he watches, eyes drawn to Jinki’s parted lips, how his hands are wrapped loosely around the other man’s shoulders for support. Then, his shirt too, discarded on the floor with the rest. Jonghyun drinks in the sight of Jinki’s exposed skin and the pink flush on his chest. He’s never seen Jinki so naked.
“No need to be nervous, okay? It’s just me.”
The man with dark hair withdraws, and Jinki’s asked to lay down ‘like they discussed’. He assumes position immediately, face closer to the camera now as he waits resting on his elbows, pillow smushed under his abdomen for comfort. Jinki’s so obedient. Does what he’s told like a good boy.
There’s a moment of reprieve. A brief interlude so Jonghyun can catch his breath, taking a second to really absorb the visual information in front of him. The full shot is just… dirty. The way Jinki wets his lips as he looks up at something off-camera is just so wrong, so pornographic, that it stirs something deep within Jonghyun he’s been trying to bury for years.
He wants to fuck Jinki so bad. It’s serious. Jonghyun’s skin is itching, burning with jealousy that this man (and God knows however many more) got to Jinki before he could even think about it, before they’d buried the hatchet and had beautiful tender make-up sex. Kissed under the moonlight and held each other through restless nights.
Whatever.
From behind, another pair of hands feels Jinki up through his briefs and Jonghyun nearly moans out loud, forgetting all about his unrequited love for a moment. Another pair of hands? Another person?
Expectant, Jinki waits, hips already shifting against the cushion underneath him. It’s obvious what’s about to happen, anticipation palpable, and Jonghyun drools absentmindedly when Jinki’s underwear is pulled away and two thick lubed-up fingers tease his entrance from behind. God, Jonghyun really wants to see, angles his head like he might be able to will the camera to move so he can catch a glimpse of Jinki’s ass, or a closeup of him being stretched out. The suggestion is enough, though, and the look on Jinki’s face as the digits enter him nearly pushes Jonghyun over the edge.
His expression twists, lips parted and glistening, hands grasping at white bedsheets. It’s filthy, quiet noises that Jonghyun wants to hear more of muffled by the poor recording equipment.
“So warm, Jinki-yah.” Jonghyun’s not sure where the voice is coming from, but the term of endearment makes his eye twitch. “Always such a good boy.”
Jinki lets go, whimpering softly at the praise, his full bottom lip caught between his teeth, leaning into the palm that cups his cheek.
“Did you practice like we asked?” There’s a thumb pressed against his lips.
Jinki’s back arches, rocking his hips. “I promise,” he whimpers, “I- I have a video, too.”
“Good boy. Did you like it? The toy?”
Jinki hums in agreement. It’s a pathetic sound. His cheeks are flushed red, clearly embarrassed, and Jonghyun feels delirious at the thought of Jinki fucking himself with some sort of sex toy gifted to him by his perverse friend. Filming it as well? Jonghyun wonders if that’s buried somewhere deep in his porn folder too.
“I knew you would.” He pinches Jinki’s cheek. “Doesn’t compare to the real thing though, does it?”
Jinki shakes his head and is rewarded with mocking laughter from both sides.
“Oh, you’re so cute.” He starts messing with the fly of his own jeans, unzipping them until the tent in his briefs is visible just off camera.
He pulls his cock out and presents it to Jinki. Thick and swollen, he pushes it against Jinki’s waiting mouth, smearing the precome across his cheek in one practiced motion.
“Do you want it?”
The tip hits Jinki’s full cheek with a dull, wet slap and he flinches. Looking up, eyes glassy, Jinki nods. How humiliating.
“Go on then. All yours.”
Jinki’s free hand wraps around the base of the man’s cock, lips pressed to the head as he kisses away the bead of precum. He looks so pliant, skin flushed and glistening, brow furrowed as he grows more accustomed to the thick fingers inside of him. The noises, too, from Jinki’s own mouth - sweet little moans muffled by the weight against his lips, plump and red.
Jonghyun palms at himself, focuses on how Jinki’s fat lips stretch to accommodate for the length slowly pushing past them, how his hips jerk at the sudden emptiness when those fingers are removed. Jinki keens, pushing back against nothing. He’s so desperate. Willing. Needy. Jonghyun moans.
God, he wishes that were him, Jinki tentatively sucking at the head of his cock, looking up at him wide-eyed for reassurance that he’s doing okay. Jonghyun would run his fingers through Jinki’s hair and thumb away the wet tears sparkling in his beautiful brown eyes, encouraging Jinki to take him deeper, until -
Jinki whimpers. The Jinki in the video, anyway, and not the one from Jonghyun’s fantasy, which somehow feels more real than recorded proof of Jinki being fucked.
Jonghyun focuses, watches mindlessly as Jinki is manhandled. He sucks eagerly at the length in his mouth, the skin on his hips flushed a deep crimson, crescent-shaped marks scattered around soon-to-be bruises. Then, a harsh slap, and Jinki sobs.
“You like that?” It must be the faceless man behind him. “Of course you do.”
Jonghyun’s dick is so painfully hard. It doesn’t help that Jinki’s crying now, the sweet little suggestion of tears from earlier running down his cheeks as he waits for his punishment. He looks beautiful. Of course he does. Jonghyun reaches into his bed shorts, freeing his cock with a satisfied groan.
“Slut,” from behind again, shaky. “Can’t even handle feeling empty for a minute.”
“Just fuck him already, he can take it. Poor little thing.”
Poor little thing. Jonghyun wraps his palm around his length and strokes, eyes rolling back from the relief. He’s so worked up. It won’t take long for him to get off like this, but he’s desperate for something else, something more worthwhile than a quick handjob. And it seems Jinki is, too.
Jinki braces himself, spreading his thighs further apart in preparation, panting as he tries to catch his breath.
The slide is easy. The sound it makes is obscene. Thick, wet, sticky. Jinki gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.
A long, drawn out groan, and he’s buried up to the hilt. A couple of mumbled curses, and he’s fucking into Jinki at a measured pace.
In, and out. Again and again. Jinki rocks back and forth as he adjusts to the rhythm and leans back down to suck at the cock pressed to his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as his hand works at the stretch of skin he can’t reach with his lips, a little messier now. The muffled noises from the back of his throat are vulgar.
Jonghyun jerks himself off faster, too. It really feels like he’s watching real porn.
He moans when Jinki gets spanked again, thumbs at the tip of his own dick when Jinki’s head is pushed down one last time and he chokes, white fluid dribbling from his lip when he pulls back, fucked-out and red faced, and has to stop himself from coming when Jinki sobs into his partner’s lap from how good it feels to be used like a whore.
It’s too much. Jaw slack, Jonghyun feels heat coiling in his belly. A slow pressure that seeks to overwhelm him.
The man fucking Jinki reaches over, slowing down for a moment before gesturing for his friend to lend him the camera. “Pass me that.”
The camera angle changes to a shot of Jinki’s back, the natural curve of his waist. From here it’s obvious where the two are connected, cock slick as it fucks into him; the noises Jinki makes are obscene, high-pitched and loud. He’s too far gone at this point, so desperate to come he can’t even string together a coherent plea for more.
A larger hand strokes his hair, thumbing away the damp strands stuck to his forehead, his wet cheeks, and pushes a finger past Jinki’s bruised lips for him to suck on. So cute, like he might have missed the oral stimulation, like he needs something to suckle on for comfort.
Now Jonghyun’s losing it, too. Hand gripped firmly around his own length to avoid spilling over too quickly, desperate to see how Jinki comes undone at his peak - if his eyes roll back, lashes fluttering, or if his thighs tremble the same way they do when he’s collapsed against the practice room wall.
“Please,“ Jinki laps at the thumb shoved in his mouth, voice muffled, choked out. “Come inside, please.”
Jonghyun’s vision goes stark white, lips curled around an embarrassingly loud moan. A sticky warmth paints his stomach and fingers, hips jerking into his now loose fist as he rides out his orgasm. He can barely see straight, barely even think, when he hears the scene coming to a close - Jinki’s wrecked sob as he finally comes, cock over-sensitive as it softens against the pillow.
A grunt hissed through gritted teeth, a pathetic whimper - Jonghyun can’t look, but he’s sure Jinki’s request was fulfilled.
“That’s it, Jinki-yah.” Soothing the angry blemishes on Jinki’s hip, a gentler tone seeks to comfort him. “You took me so well.”
Jonghyun opens his eyes and the camera moves to the thick softness of Jinki’s ass, showing off proudly the mess of sticky white and the slickness of lube. Slowly, the faceless man pulls his cock out to film the winning shot; Jinki’s hole fluttering, the thick dribble of come running down his taint.
“Oh, yeah,” from behind the camera again. “You’ll have to send me this one.”
Jinki chokes out a sound that might have read as a half-hearted laugh, loose-limbed as he comes down from his high. He mumbles something, lost in the low-quality soundscape, that earns him a gentle pat on the head.
“Look up for me, okay? At the lens,” the other voice says. His fingers stroke through Jinki’s hair, softer now. “Smile, Jinki.”
Panning up, there’s one last close-up shot of Jinki’s sweat-slick profile - a suggestion of a sweet, dazed grin. Small hands curled into a weak thumbs up.
Then, darkness.
Jonghyun stares out his own disheveled expression in the dim reflection of Jinki’s laptop.
What the fuck?
What just happened?
He should probably go back to bed.