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“Alright, up.” Jonghyun pats Jinki’s hip. “And turn over.”
Jinki whines. Why?
It feels good like this, with Jonghyun pressed so close against him, his cock so deep that Jinki can’t tell where each of them begin and end. Being able to look up and see Jonghyun’s sparkling eyes and his cute, plump lips while they’re fucking is Jinki’s favourite thing, and kissing him is even better—so why?
“Jonghyun, please,” he slurs, rolling his hips. “I’m close, just fuck me.”
“No. Up.”
Jinki feigns serious upset, huffing when Jonghyun presses a half-apologetic kiss to his mouth, and whining miserably when Jonghyun eases his cock out. So what, he’s acting spoilt, he’s comfortable and doesn’t want to move. Sue him.
The emptiness isn’t as jarring as Jonghyun practically flipping him over (he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being manhandled like that). As soon as he’s on all fours, Jinki’s stomach feels sick with excitement, his cock hard and waiting for Jonghyun’s hand. When he feels Jonghyun’s skin against his, covering his body like a safety blanket, he shivers.
Jonghyun breathes hot against his ear. “I’m going to fuck you so good, hyung, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Jinki moans, pressing back against him. “Do it, then.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He gasps at the feeling of Jonghyun’s cock pushing back into him. Jonghyun whines, squeezing Jinki’s hips, his nails digging into soft fat, until he’s buried up to the hilt.
“Jonghyun-ah,” Jinki moans. “You’re—ah—so deep.”
“Feels good, hyung,” he rasps. “So warm.”
His hips stutter, his breath curls around a groan that Jinki feels reverberating against his skin. When he moves, finally, Jinki hangs his head and squeezes his eyes shut, letting himself make as much noise as he wants—whimpering when Jonghyun kisses his shoulderblades, crying out when he feels Jonghyun’s cock pressing against that one, wonderful spot inside of him. It’s too good, he can feel so much of everything.
His arms give out, and his face smushes against the pillows, drooling across the fabric where Jonghyun usually sleeps. The sound of Jonghyun’s hips slapping against his own makes him delirious with need. He wants to come just from this, forever. He’d happily give up everything just to have Jonghyun inside of him like this for the rest of his life.
Jonghyun swears behind him, moaning sweetly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “so gorgeous, always.”
Jinki sobs and pushes his hips back. “Harder, please.”
Jonghyun makes a noise that sounds like an affirmation, but Jinki can barely make out anything anymore. Everything's soft and perfect, his mind’s somewhere else entirely. He just wants to come.
He’s so close, terribly desperate. Jonghyun’s hand curls around his cock, there’s sharp canines digging in gently at his nape, now, and the relentless pace of Jonghyun fucking into him—Jinki cries, arches his back, he can’t take it, it’s too much—
Pop.
“Jesus Christ!” Jinki wails. “Jonghyun, oh my God, wait, stop, please.”
The burning starts at the small of his back, travelling up his spine and tingling in the tips of his fingers. It makes his hair stand on end, has his face twisting into some awful expression, his vision blurring with the nauseating mixture of agony and leftover pleasure.
And it really, really fucking hurts.
Jinki cries and clutches at where the pain blooms under his skin, mumbling out a nasty curse that stills Jonghyun’s hips into worried sedation.
“What’s wrong?” Jonghyun sounds terrified.
He has no idea and barely enough energy to respond. Everything hurts, and being bent over like this isn’t helping, so even when Jonghyun—as helpful as he’s trying to be—pets his skin so gently, Jinki’s so delirious with pain that it almost feels like it’s being peeled from his muscle instead. So he whimpers angrily, sniffles back something indecent that he’ll regret, and grabs onto the bedsheets until his knuckles turn a sickly sheet-white.
“Stop.” Jinki tries to catch his breath. “Pull out, please.”
Jonghyun does as he’s told. Jinki can barely feel Jonghyun’s cock slipping out of him this time.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice wobbling. “I didn’t—I don’t—“
“It’s okay,” Jinki rasps. “Oh God, it hurts. I can’t move.”
“What? Then it’s not okay!” Jonghyun panics. “Hyung, what do I do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do I need to call an ambulance?”
“Just—get me down,” Jinki snaps. “I need to stretch out.”
Jonghyun helps him ease his hips down and roll over onto his back, even though every slight movement sends agonising jolts of pain up his spine. Jinki realises then, laying prostrate and stark naked, that he’s gone completely soft.
“Is it bad?” Jonghyun looks him up and down, hands fidgeting in his lap.
Jinki shakes his head gently. “Just…could you get me a glass of water? And the heating pad. That would be nice.”
“Will you be alright on your own?” He reaches over to push Jinki’s hair out of his eyes.
“It’s just a few seconds. I’ll be fine.”
Jonghyun fumbles his way off the mattress and pulls on the underwear he discarded so carelessly earlier, leaning over to kiss Jinki’s forehead before he leaves. Looking up at Jonghyun like this, Jinki notices how wet his eyes are. Unshed tears, obviously. Jonghyun’s trying hard not to cry.
“You worry too much,” Jinki mumbles.
“You make me worry,” Jonghyun says, stroking his cheek. “Don’t move.”
Jonghyun hurries off eventually (not without fussing over him, first), leaving Jinki all by himself. He sighs and stares at the ceiling. Why is it always him? Why did his body have to give up in the middle of mind-blowing sex?
It’s uncomfortable laying like this now. It feels like his back is cramping up and his bones are turning in on themselves, and he wishes Jonghyun were here to help him move over onto his front, however needy that sounds. He can hear the tap running in the kitchen, though, but he’s not even sure how he’s going to sit up to drink. God, it’s all so embarrassing—he’s like a newborn baby all over again.
Jinki huffs, frustrated, and tries to move. Slowly but surely (and with great, great difficulty), he maneuvers onto his belly with a pained groan. He feels so helpless.
It’s silly, but he misses Jonghyun and kind of wants to cry.
Soon enough, Jonghyun’s in the doorway with a glass of ice water and Jinki’s beloved heating pad, just like he asked. He gingerly clambers onto the bed, making sure he doesn’t aggravate Jinki’s injury, and pulls a face.
“Hyung,” Jonghyun whines, “I told you not to move.”
Jinki just looks up at him sadly. Maybe bats his eyelashes a little, too.
“Don’t even, that doesn’t work on me anymore.”
(But he doesn’t mean it, and it most definitely does, if the way his face softens is anything to go by.)
“I’m sorry,” Jinki murmurs. “I’m such a pain.”
“You’re not. Just tell me where it hurts.”
“...My back.”
“Again?” Jonghyun frowns, sighs through his teeth. He presses the perfectly warm pad against the root of Jinki’s ache, at the small of his back. “We need to be more careful.”
Jinki whimpers. “No, I can take it.”
“Yah, don’t say things like that now.” Jonghyun’s fingers ghost over his back, probably too scared to touch him properly. “There, better?”
“A little. I just…feel kind of gross.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Stay there, I’ll clean you up the best I can.”
This time, Jonghyun isn’t gone for long. He comes back again with a deliciously warm towel, kneeling beside Jinki just to carefully part his cheeks, cleaning up the mess of lube and his own precome. Any other day, Jinki might have blushed furiously and pushed his hips back, begged Jonghyun to stretch him open just one more time—but even the passing thought is overwhelmed by the persistent ache all over his body. It feels like someone’s run over him with a truck.
Jinki sighs. Another forty-eight hours minimum with no sex. Just when he was easing back into it, too…
“There we go.” Jonghyun pats his ass very, very gently. “You can wash up later. Is the heat okay?”
He hums, grateful at least for the fact he still has a working heat pad. It doesn’t make it magically go away, but the pain feels more dull under the soothing warmth.
“Thank you,” Jinki mumbles. “You’re the best.”
Jonghyun huffs, settling down next to him. “Not really.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
His warmth radiates even though they’re not pressed together, and Jinki realises how much he misses the feeling as his eyes wander across Jonghyun’s bare chest. How embarrassing: it hasn’t even been an hour, let alone any number of days, and he’s already fantasising about sex he can’t have. He’s not sure how he’s going to manage the next week or so.
Jonghyun catches him looking, of course, and smirks. “Well, when you’re all better, we can fuck as many times as you want.”
“Don’t,” Jinki whines and pouts. “You can still get me off. I’ll be fine.”
“Let’s ask the doctor first, okay?” Jonghyun nuzzles against Jinki’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his overwarm skin. “We can figure something out.”
(If ‘figuring something out’ counted for Jonghyun’s mouth wrapped around Jinki’s cock every other night until he was pain-free enough to spread his legs again, then sure—they had eventually ‘figured it out’.)