Archive of Our Own

Jinki’s sweating. Just a little more than usual.

They're being dolled up for another promo shoot, but it's obvious none of them really want to be there. Jonghyun's eyes wander across to where Jinki's being fussed over by their makeup artist. Foundation, concealer, a bit of colour on his lips.

Sat diligently, eyes closed, Jinki sweats.

He’s obviously uncomfortable. It’s in his oddly rehearsed breathing, his hands drifting down his thighs to pull at the fabric of his pants, the way his hair sticks to his cheeks. Jonghyun pretends to mess with his phone like he isn’t watching beads of sweat roll down Jinki’s nape. He blinks, swallows.

It’s hot in here all of a sudden. Humid and sticky.

The staff member attending to Jinki wipes at his forehead where his bangs are pinned back, mumbling something about his skin. Jonghyun watches her skulk off elsewhere, makeup brush and damp tissue still perched between her fingers, and turns his attention back to Jinki. He looks embarrassed now. Is he tired? Sick? Something worse? Jonghyun feels his own brow furrow involuntarily. Seeing Jinki like this worries him—he’s usually better at hiding it.

Jinki shifts, wiping at his upper lip before clasping his palms together in his lap. He glances around, catching Jonghyun’s gaze from across the room. He tries on an awkward smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Pretty, Jonghyun thinks. They're not dressed yet, Jinki still wearing a shirt Jonghyun recognises from years ago. It's a little tighter around the arms, but falls loose down his back. Jonghyun imagines the fabric hugging Jinki's hips and feels spit pooling under his tongue.

Jinki clears his throat, then. "Jonghyun-ah. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

And Jonghyun nearly chokes, his phone promptly discarded on the green room couch with a hurried of course, hyung before he’s at Jinki’s side like a well-trained dog. He can’t help it. Jonghyun has to stop himself from leaning down and rubbing up against Jinki’s scent glands, nuzzling his neck just to reassure him that it’s okay. It might be acceptable in the closed-off comfort of their own rooms, but there are staff here that Jonghyun doesn't recognise, and he doesn't want to give them the wrong idea.

The idea that he and Jinki could be together.

They're close friends, and their relationship has always been easy, despite their differences. They look out for each other, they sit side-by-side in comfortable silence, and when they all lived together it wasn't unusual for Jonghyun to seek Jinki out for a hug, or a prolonged cuddle-turned-pile-up. But for Jonghyun, the moment before Minho or Taemin snuggled in next to them was always the most exciting. Having Jinki to himself, basking in his scent, his warmth—there's nothing like it, even now.

They've never let their secondary sexes affect how they act around each other, either. As an alpha, Jonghyun is more than capable of self-restraint, and Jinki keeps any and all information regarding his heats between himself and his doctor.

But sometimes, Jonghyun feels a little crazy.

It's usually the days where he shows up to their recording sessions smelling like home, bundled in oversized sweats that bury him—or when he gives his all during a performance and ends up exhausted and glazed with sweat, eyes closed and lips parted around desperate gasps for air. The way his hands shake backstage after overexerting himself; the way his cheeks puff up when he gets a note wrong.

During the unbearable ache of his ruts, these moments play back, over and over, until he's crying out Jinki's name into his palm, sobbing when his knot swells around nothing. He's used to it now; the daydreams that plague his heat-sick mind are usually shaken off with a good, thorough shower.

The impossibility of Jinki being his mate is something he's fully aware of. Ignoring that, and the occasional twinge of hopelessness in his chest, fantasising can be fun. These feelings stay locked somewhere deep inside of him, only bubbling up to the surface when his hormones grow wild and untethered. In real life, being his friend is enough. Jonghyun cherishes the easy conversation and the warmth of Jinki's arms, and lets the latent yearning flow out onto scraps of paper and the pages of his overstuffed journal.

He supposes it could be love, but he doesn't have time to think about what that might mean for him.

It doesn't matter either way; he shouldn't be mulling over his unconfessed feelings before work. But there's something different with Jinki today, and he can sense it, see it in the undercurrent of Jinki's flat smile. Whatever’s upsetting him, Jonghyun can fix, he promises.

"Everything okay?" Jonghyun says, reaching for Jinki’s shoulder. He flinches at the touch, and Jonghyun frowns.

"I don’t know." Jinki looks so sad. "I—I think I have a problem."

"What? Are you sick?"

"No, it’s…" He looks down at his feet. "It’s worse than that."

Jonghyun's stomach turns. "You can tell me, hyung. It’s okay."

"…Don’t laugh."

"I won’t! I promise," Jonghyun says. "It's not funny if it's upsetting you."

Jinki goes quiet. His hands are trembling. At this angle, Jonghyun can see where his makeup has run, a pale smudge below his eyes, across the bridge of his nose. Even still, his lips are curled into a gentle, half-hearted smile. "I've never said it out loud before, really."

"Take your time," Jonghyun reassures, but his chest is tight with unease, and, more pitifully, excitement.

Jinki fidgets in his lap and takes a deep breath. "Well, I feel really warm, and… everything kind of hurts," he pauses. "I—I think it might be my heat."

Oh.

Jonghyun’s mouth feels dry.

"I mean, I know it is. I haven’t had one in a while," Jinki continues. "My doctor, she said it would be good for me, to, you know…"

What does he even say? "Yeah, I—that's okay. I understand."

He does, truly. He understands that this is a sensitive topic, that Jinki's body is still recuperating from his old, stronger heat suppressants. He knows that Jinki has been embarrassed about this part of himself ever since the beginning, of how it makes him look to his peers, because that was one of the only times they talked about it. He knows that Jinki doesn't always put himself first, and that he's scared of his irregular heats even if he won't admit it outright. Most of all, Jonghyun knows that this has been a long time coming, and he knows that he wants Jinki safe and comfortable, no matter what. If that means postponing their schedules until things settle back down, then so be it.

"I just didn’t think it would be now. I feel so stupid." He wipes away a bead of sweat above his brow. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t apologise. I’ll let our manager know."

Jinki shifts. "I have strong scent blockers in my bag. There's last-minute suppressants, too," he says, nodding like he's trying to convince himself. "I’ll be okay, it's only a few hours."

"Are you serious?" Jonghyun feels a little taken aback. "No, hyung. That’s crazy."

"I don’t want to be a bother."

"No," he says, firmer this time. "Absolutely not. It’s not good for you."

"But, the shoot…"

Jonghyun wants to grab Jinki’s shoulders and shake him until all these stupid thoughts are wrangled from his poor brain. "Who cares? We can just do it some other time. It doesn’t matter."

"We've had this planned for months—"

"Jinki. Lee Jinki, look at me," Jonghyun says quite seriously. "No. You're going home."

Jinki sighs and gives in. Hangs his head sadly. "…Okay."

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

He tells Kibum first, then Taemin and Minho, who are already done-up in thick makeup and layers of metallic clothes. After explaining gently to each of them what the situation is, the general consensus, it seems, is an overwhelming sense of relief.

When Jonghyun breaks the news to their manager, he sighs and mutters something under his breath. He orders Jonghyun to go back to the green room and keep an eye on Onew whilst he makes some phone calls. So Jonghyun does.

Kibum's already fussing over Jinki when he returns, pushing hair away from Jinki's eyes, hushing him with gentle reassurance that everything's going to be okay. It's fine, hyung, stop worrying. You can't help it. This is just how things are. He's holding Jinki's hand, too, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles, comforting him, soothing his worries.

Jinki looks up at Jonghyun, his voice wavering when he mumbles, "I'm so sorry."

"Poor thing," Kibum coos. "I hate seeing him like this."

Staff members worry around them, too, whispers about having to postpone the shoot and general uncertainty about their future schedules. Jonghyun hears the familiar click of products being packed away, sees their makeup artists and hairstylists chatting amongst themselves. Oh, that Onew, always something, isn’t there?

He just wants to cover Jinki’s ears and swaddle him in cotton wool forever, keep him safe and sheltered and away from all of this nonsense.

Kibum sighs. "You’ll be home soon. You can take care of yourself fine, right?"

Jinki shivers, nods shakily. He leans into the soft touch against his cheek now, Kibum’s knuckles fluttering against his skin. Jonghyun watches, jealous, maybe; he’s seen Jinki and Kibum closer than this before, so why is it only affecting him now?

Thank God they’re all wearing scent patches. Jonghyun swallows.

"It’s those pills, isn’t it? I thought you’d stopped taking them," Kibum says.

"I did, last year, after, well…" Jinki looks back down at his feet. "It’s been a while, that’s all."

His voice trails off, mumbling nonsense about his new prescription. Jonghyun remembers last spring, the first time he'd seen the unlabelled box of oval-shaped tablets in Jinki's room. How he'd scoured the internet all night for any semblance of information, only to discover they were some kind of heat suppressant that Jinki probably shouldn't have been taking.

He has regular appointments now. A confidential file overseen by the company to make sure it doesn't happen again, medication that is reassuringly over-the-counter, and he is fine, for the most part, but Jonghyun has never seen him like this before in their many years of friendship. It makes his stomach sick with worry and something else—something more shameful.

"You’ll be okay," Kibum says gently, and he pinches Jinki's cheek. "Our wonderful, strong Jinki-hyung."

Jinki doesn't look so convinced.

While they wait, Kibum helps with wiping away Jinki's makeup. His undereyes are dark, his cheeks flushed and red, and Jonghyun can't help but think how beautiful he looks despite it all.

He watches Jinki swallow, lick his lips. His breathing is laboured and almost desperate. Every so often, he winces and groans quietly, fingers curled into the damp fabric of his t-shirt. Jonghyun imagines Jinki whining, begging to be fucked—

"Hey." Kibum waves his hand around. "Hello? Anyone home?"

"Yes," Jonghyun says, dumb. "I'm here. What—?"

"The car," Kibum says. "It's here. Jinki's going home."

"Oh—great, that's great," he stammers, glancing over at Jinki. "Okay?"

Jinki looks at him with sad, wide eyes, like he's about to cry. He doesn't have to say it—it's obvious that he isn't. Suddenly, he reaches out for Jonghyun like a child wanting to be held.

"Come with me," he rasps. "Please."

"Okay, hyung, whatever you want." Jonghyun lets their fingers interlock, squeezing Jinki's hand. "Whatever you want."

Jinki stumbles into the dormitory all by himself. Jonghyun stays close behind him, arms full with Jinki's coat and bags, and watches as he leans over awkwardly to struggle with his shoes.

"Hyung—"

"I can do it myself," Jinki slurs. "I'm fine."

His fingers twirl around the laces on his trainers, double-knotted and tight, and he whimpers in frustration when he pulls and nothing happens.

"I'm not useless," he says under his breath. "I can do things by myself. I'm okay, I'm fine…"

Jonghyun just sighs.

The journey here was difficult, to say the least. He'd rather not dwell on the way their driver had looked back through the rear-view mirror at them both, or how Kibum had glared at him when Jinki took his hand. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to send an omega on the verge of heat home with an alpha, but the fact Jinki had trusted him enough to even suggest the idea had instilled Jonghyun with confidence and something else a little less tame.

Back in the green room, it had felt like everyone could read Jonghyun's mind, physically see his depraved thoughts, and that they were all silently judging him. His manager, the members—Jinki, even. A vague paranoia lingers even now, as he watches Jinki shuffle out of his shoes and place them neatly next to his others.

"Go and get comfortable," Jonghyun starts. "I'll fetch you some towels."

"No, I'm okay. I've got plenty." Jinki's unsteady on his feet as he clambers across the hall. "I'm really, really okay."

"Jinki, you'll hurt yourself."

He mumbles something unintelligible and continues onwards, stubborn as ever. Jonghyun haphazardly throws Jinki's belongings somewhere safe and rushes to his side with another dejected sigh.

"Jonghyun…" Jinki murmurs. "Jonghyun-ah, you're here."

"I never left. I'm right here," Jonghyun says.

Jinki smiles gently. "Yeah… That's good."

So cute. Jonghyun isn't annoyed with him, he never could be; all he wants is to pamper Jinki with affection until he's dizzy with it. He's never had the honour (or pleasure) of seeing anyone like this, let alone his precious Jinki-hyung, who usually shuts down conversation about anything remotely scandalous with a cautious blush and a stern not now.

This time, the pink flush colouring his cheeks isn't because he's embarrassed. Jonghyun, perhaps not very secretly, revels in it.

He guides Jinki to his bedroom and helps him clamber up onto the mattress. Jonghyun doesn't know what stage they're at here, but Jinki's scent is stronger than it was in the car, perfectly linen-soft and fresh, with a dizzying note of sweet, musky slick.

Jinki's probably wet, isn't he?

"Jonghyun-ah," sweet, melodic, Jinki’s voice cuts through all his mindless daydreaming. He's sat up against his cushions with his knees pushed together awkwardly. "You can go now. It’s okay, I’ve done this before."

And that’s the worst part—all the times Jinki has settled for an impersonal toy over the thick warmth of an alpha’s cock. Had to help himself rather than letting someone more capable take care of him.

"Are you sure?" Jonghyun doesn't know why he's asking. He nearly reaches over to touch him, but thinks better of it. Jinki is sensitive.

"I couldn’t…" His voice trails off, head turned away from Jonghyun. "It gets bad. I couldn’t…"

"Hyung, it’s okay. You can have my shirt or something, if you want. You know, just to—"

"No," Jinki says, more firmly. "You’ve already done so much for me."

He shifts. Jonghyun catches a glimpse of where his jeans are damp with slick, and feels crazed. What he wouldn’t give to help Jinki undress, to see and feel his beautiful body open up for him.

It’s okay. Jinki can take as much time as he needs. Jonghyun’s already waited six years just to get this far, what’s another five? Ten? Fifteen, even?

"Do you need anything?" Jonghyun stops himself from stroking Jinki’s hair. "Just tell me."

"There’s a box," he starts, takes a deep breath. "It’s in my closet. Could you…?"

"Of course. Wait there."

Rooting around through Jinki’s things feels wrong, even under direct instruction. Jonghyun pushes layers of winter coats and out-of-season clothing away to reveal a modest looking shoebox; unassuming and plain.

It’s kind of heavy, and he sweats, hauling it up onto Jinki’s bed with a grunt, earning him a timid smile that lights up Jinki’s face with a brief clarity. Cute, cute, cute.

Jinki murmurs a quiet thank you. Jonghyun knows it’s time for him to back off.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"Just…don’t leave. Wait for me, please. I like knowing you’re there."

And Jonghyun nods, ignoring how those words make his heart stir impatiently in his chest.

The dormitory is plain. Jonghyun remembers fondly when they all used to live together, when their mess of personal belongings made their shared space look like more like a dump, but now they're older, with most of them using it as more of a halfway point between home and work, it's cleaned up nicely.

It feels different now; Jonghyun still stays here sometimes, obviously, but long gone are the days of sleeping in a shitty bunk and stepping on Jinki in the middle of the night.

Looking around properly, Jonghyun can see flecks of Jinki’s interests and hobbies scattered about the place—Minho's, too, who seems to use the space like a storage locker—most notable is their large collection of books. Shelves and shelves of non-fiction, poetry, classics that Jonghyun has read thousands of times. Some of his own copies are still here, interspersed with the rest, and it makes his heart feel full.

He runs his fingers across the spines: Hesse, Murakami, Kang, more foreign names he recognises, and even The Little Prince. Jonghyun’s favourites. Maybe he should borrow one while he waits.

It’s slightly hard to concentrate, though, when all he can smell is Jinki. Flowers blooming soft in the middle of spring and warm slick. Being here, in his space, amongst all of his precious belongings and furniture that carries his scent.

Jonghyun’s been hard for some time.

He’s trying to ignore it, will it away, even, pretend he can't feel it, but it’s difficult when his brain seems preoccupied with producing indecent images of his leader. The delicate arch of his back, his cunt drooling around a big, thick knot—

Jonghyun coughs. He's glad he dressed down, but he still feels unbearably warm. Any longer and he might just lose his mind.

But what kind of friend would he be if he jerked off now? A horribly irresponsible one, probably. Someone that doesn’t deserve the grace of seeing Jinki at his most vulnerable. An awful, stereotypical, sex-crazed alpha—something that Jonghyun is not, and the last thing he wants anyone to think of him.

Jinki has it harder than he could ever imagine. Leaving himself unattended is nothing compared to a heat. He's used to inopportune arousal, the whole world is. It's just life. So he tries the books again to take his mind off it all. He absentmindedly slips something familiar out from between some self-help guides and brings it back to where he was sitting on the couch. May as well get comfortable.

For a while, it's completely quiet. He manages a few pages, staves off any inappropriate thought with the image of a blank, white wall, and he softens considerably. He reads and he concentrates; he takes words in and turns them around in his head. Jonghyun doesn't think he's ever paid so much attention to an author's use of punctuation before.

For a while, he doesn't think about Jinki at all. Because why would he?

Until he hears a noise that sounds too much like his name, that is.

He fears that he might have lost it, finally, that he must be hallucinating, but the unmistakable tone of Jinki's voice seeps through the foundations of their dormitory, and Jonghyun swears he hears it—a choked-out Jonghyun-ah he wishes was clearer.

Then, another sharp moan, a hoarse gasp, followed by a long, drawn out sound that Jonghyun can feel buzzing under his skin.

Suddenly the words in front of him melt into one big unintelligible mess. Jonghyun blinks, swallows thick, but he can hear Jinki loud and clear, however muffled by the walls separating them.

He’s probably fingering himself open to take something bigger, thicker.

Jonghyun wipes the sweat off his brow and turns the page.

Jinki is one room over, crying out for him, desperate to be held down and fucked.

No, Jonghyun scolds himself mentally. He's been over this. He will not, under any circumstance, give into his fucked-up urges and he will keep to himself and give Jinki space. Even if Jinki cried and begged Jonghyun to fuck him raw, even if he bent over and presented his perfect round ass, his pretty hole—well, in an ideal world Jonghyun would probably concede and fuck him so good he’d forget all about those stupid plastic toys and mate with Jonghyun for life.

Or something like that.

Jonghyun groans. His whole body hurts. He doesn’t believe in God, but this must be a test of will. He turns the page again, takes a deep breath to ground himself. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Who even cares about Jinki?

…Is Jinki thinking of him right now? Fucking himself with a fake cock and fantasising about Jonghyun, instead? Maybe he is, and so what if he isn’t, Jonghyun can dream, too.

He puts the book down and rubs at his eyes. It's going to be a long evening.

Jonghyun downs another glass of water and stares down at the plughole of the kitchen sink basin.

His hands are clammy, his head is stuffy with over-thought, and, to be honest, he wants to go home. He's lost track of time, of how long he's been on edge, everything blurring together into one Jinki-coloured haze that's weakening his resolve. Every half-formed image of Jinki's face twisted in pleasure has him weak at the knees.

He needs to focus on something else.

But he can't concentrate on reading. The dormitory doesn't need cleaning. The kitchen is spotless and completely dust-free. The dishes are washed and neatly packed away. The food in the fridge is in date, perfectly fresh. There is nothing for him to do except wait.

Jonghyun sets down his glass and wanders back and forth, instead, breathes in and out just like they taught him to during his vocal lessons—

He wants to go home. He wants Jinki blissed-out and stuffed full of his cock.

Jonghyun whines and bites his lip. This is ridiculous.

His leg bounces impatiently, his nails dig into the skin of his palm. How long until Jinki is lucid enough to send him on his way? How long until Jonghyun has the courage to just up and leave like he should have done hours ago?

There's something keeping him here, whether he likes it or not—the looming promise of something more. The sickening sense of joy he gets from being bathed in Jinki's scent like this, from knowing that there's only a wall separating him and the vision of Jinki with his legs drawn up to his chest and a toy buzzing gently inside of him.

Jonghyun gives in. Steadying himself on the kitchen counter, he palms at himself, just to take that edge off, and whimpers impatiently. It feels good, and he wants relief so bad, but the guilt makes him feel like a creep, his mind actively fighting against his own body. It's an overwhelming sensation, one he's more used to feeling when he's bone-tired and has to perform. This situation, clearly, is quite different.

Muffling an embarrassingly frustrated sob with his hand, Jonghyun shakes his head like it might clear his mind. It doesn't. He wants and he wants—but he can't have.

His desperation leads him wandering down the corridor to Jinki's room. He tells himself it's a quick check-in to make sure that Jinki hasn't hurt himself—or something like that, but Jonghyun isn't entirely convinced by his own logic—and sidles next to where the door to Jinki's safe place is locked tight.

To his surprise, it's completely quiet.

"Hyung?" Jonghyun presses his ear against Jinki's bedroom door, worried. "Jinki-hyung. Hello?"

Still, nothing.

"Jinki," a little louder. "Are you okay?"

Then, he hears the bed creaking. Weary footsteps. The lock unlatching. He panics, sweats, steps back just in case, but stays firmly planted in front of Jinki's bedroom as if he's unable to move. When the door falls open, Jonghyun tries his hardest to stay composed.

There, on the other side, is Jinki, wearing nothing but a stupid graphic t-shirt and a pair of damp cotton briefs thrown on in haste. Obviously exhausted, he's leaning against the doorframe for support. His eyes are puffy and red, his hair stuck to his cheeks, and he looks completely wrecked. Jonghyun thinks he looks beautiful, too.

"…You’re still here," Jinki mumbles. His voice is nasal and hoarse.

Looking past him, past the frame of his door, Jonghyun sees Jinki's bed—his nest—damp with stains from his slick. Used sex toys littered across messed-up towels. The box Jonghyun had fetched him earlier is on the floor, half open and full of more phallic-looking objects.

Jonghyun feels a bead of sweat run down his neck. He clears his throat. "You, uh, asked me to stay."

Jinki looks at him, up and down, and Jonghyun feels mortified. Why can’t he control himself? Why can’t he just push Jinki against the wall and fuck him senseless like he wants to?

But Jinki’s gaze lingers. Jonghyun can feel it, can see Jinki’s eyes cast downwards towards his shamefully prominent hard-on.

From here, it almost looks like he’s drooling.

"Do you need anything? Water?" Jonghyun tries.

Jinki doesn’t say anything. He breathes steady, knees practically shaking, and stares.

"Jinki, uh—are you okay? Should I leave…?"

He looks back up and wipes at his mouth. Stumbles forward until he’s in Jonghyun’s arms and pressed close against him. It doesn't feel real.

Jonghyun holds his breath.

"Jonghyun-ah, don't go," Jinki says, airy, barely there. "I need help."

This must be some kind of nightmare.

"I… I need it. Please," Jinki slurs, "need you."

"You need to go and lay down," Jonghyun says.

He pushes himself closer, rubs his cheek against Jonghyun’s shoulder. "It hurts," he sniffles. "Please fuck me, Jonghyunnie, it—it hurts, please."

Jinki’s desperation trails off into a sad little whimper, until he’s shaking and crying and his fingers are grasping at Jonghyun’s shirt, damp from both their sweat.

It’s terrible, but all Jonghyun can think about is how good he smells. How ready he must be. His instincts are telling him to take what’s in front of him, bite into Jinki’s neck and stake his claim like a real alpha should. He wishes he could. Of course he wants to, but.

"Hyung, I can’t," Jonghyun murmurs against Jinki’s hair, hand pressed to his back. "You know I can’t."

Jinki holds onto him harder, stifles a nasty sob. "It won’t go away."

"It will, I promise." 

"It won’t. I need you," Jinki wails.

Jonghyun lets him cry, even though having Jinki this close and not being able to touch him properly is hell. He sighs, strokes Jinki's shoulder blades. If only he knew.

"Please—at least, can't you just—" he hiccups, "just once. That's all I want."

All the times Jinki must have gone through this by himself, all those miserable orgasms without an alpha—without me, Jonghyun thinks—at his side, it must have all been so scary. Jinki deserves better than that. He deserves to be loved gently and fucked roughly, mated and claimed and filled, over and over, until he's round and glowing.

Jonghyun could give him that and more, and he would, in any other lifetime. Just not this one, not now.

He tells Jinki to calm down and bundles him in his arms, safe and warm. They're both shaking now. Jonghyun takes a deep breath, sighs out, "What can I do to make it easier for you, hyung?"

The compromise they reach, eventually, is for Jonghyun to sit and watch. To offer gentle words of encouragement and reassurance as Jinki works through his heat himself. Maybe it's a little odd, but the dizzy smile on Jinki's lips as Jonghyun leads him back into his bedroom makes him forget all about what might be perceived as acceptable by others.

Jonghyun doesn’t mind, of course he doesn’t. He’d do anything for Jinki, even if it means withstanding the greatest temptation he’s ever faced.

Their schedule for the next few months is packed, they don’t have condoms and Jinki’s at his most fertile; maybe it would play out differently in Jonghyun’s daydreams, but this is real life, and there are real consequences to their impulsive biological responses. The last thing they need is the whole world knowing they fucked because it was convenient.

Easing Jinki down onto his bed and not kissing him breathless feels wrong. Watching him shimmy out of his slick-coated cotton briefs, seeing his pretty, swollen cunt—Jonghyun nearly chokes on his own drool. Imagining Jinki’s naked body is one thing, but seeing it and not being able to touch and map out each gentle curve or the dimples on his stomach physically hurts.

Jonghyun settles down next to him, precariously close, his back resting against a wall of cushions and miscellaneous soft things, whatever they are. Jinki’s makeshift nest is a mess, but Jonghyun wouldn’t have expected anything else.

"Comfortable?" Jonghyun asks.

Jinki shakes his head.

"You want a toy?"

Jinki nods tearfully.

There’s a few near the end of Jinki’s bed: a wand vibrator with a bulbous head, glistening wet, and two differently sized dildos. He swallows. "These? Which one?"

Jonghyun only gets an incoherent whine in response. It probably means ‘shut up and stop messing with me’, so Jonghyun obeys and gathers them all in his hands, dumping the stash between them and settling back down, not really thinking about the fact he's handling Jinki's sex toys.

It takes him a second to think, and then Jinki is reaching for the smaller, pale-coloured cock. He bites his lip and looks over at Jonghyun, and it takes everything in him not to pounce on Jinki right then and there.

He spreads his thighs apart and wets the toy with his own slick, sliding it between his folds without breaking eye contact. Jonghyun watches Jinki’s lips tremble as he presses the rounded tip against his pussy. Jonghyun tries a tentative hand on Jinki’s shoulder and feels him shiver.

"Just do what you have to," he reassures.

Jinki looks up at him still, moaning as he pushes the toy inside. The way his short fingers are wrapped firm around the base, the slick, easy slide—Jonghyun wills away the urge to kiss him and strokes Jinki’s arm as if it might ease the ache even just a little. 

He’s so wet. It must be painful.

"Does that feel better?" Jonghyun says gently, and Jinki hums affirmative, this time.

He looks a little dazed now, lazily holding his thighs apart to fuck himself better. Jonghyun tries to tune out the sound, the squelch of the toy when Jinki shoves it deep inside of himself, just to drag it back out with a shaking, desperate sigh. There's so much slick everywhere—his hands, obviously, all down his legs, across his stomach—and Jonghyun wants to taste it. He wants Jinki's lush thighs wrapped around his head, he wants to kiss Jinki's pretty, heat-soaked cunt—

"Jonghyun-ah," Jinki breathes, chest heaving. "I wish it was you."

"I know, I know. It’s okay."

"Want your cock," Jinki whines. His wrist works tirelessly, thighs spread further apart now. "Ah—! Want—want you to fuck me, fill me up."

Jonghyun swallows down something indecent, nods curtly. "I’m here, hyung. You’re okay."

And that’s all it takes, apparently, for Jinki to come. His hand stills, thighs shaking as he grinds his hips down onto warm silicone, riding out his climax with a slow, drawn-out moan. Jonghyun wipes at the drool pooling in the corner of Jinki’s mouth, lets Jinki grab onto his shirt as he works through it.

"That’s it," Jonghyun says. "Feel good?"

Jinki whimpers pathetically, barely a coherent response, his free hand reaching over for Jonghyun’s. Their fingers thread together, Jinki’s clammy palm against his own, and Jonghyun resists.

"So good," Jinki slurs, "feels better with you, Jonghyunnie."

Ah, he can’t just say things like that and get away with it. Jonghyun wishes he could lean down and kiss away the tears sparkling below Jinki’s lashline, fuck him until all he can think about is Jonghyun’s cock, until he’s loose-limbed and soft all over. He squeezes Jinki’s hand tighter. "Whatever you need, okay?"

Jinki looks up at him so tenderly. Jonghyun can almost ignore the mess of slick between his thighs and pretend they’re lovers, instead.

It doesn’t take long for that ache to return. Jonghyun holds his hand through it all, strokes Jinki’s hair, whispers gently in his ear and rubs soft against his scent glands. Jinki comes again, and again and again: ass up on his front, working at himself with his fingers; then on his side, helping himself to the thickest toy he has. Jonghyun sweats.

He rests his palm against Jinki’s shoulder, basking in the broad line of his back, the dip of his waist, as he pushes it deeper. "Good, Jinki-yah. You’re doing great."

Jinki moans, loud and awkward. His leg hitches up, and Jonghyun instinctively reaches down to hold it steady, curling gentle fingers against the back of his thigh. He’s so lovely; Jonghyun would gladly settle for this every time, if that’s all he could get.

Jinki feels heavy in his arms. He must be exhausted by now.

Jonghyun looks down, to where there's a knotted dildo stuffed into Jinki's pussy, and bites down hard on his lip.

Offering to help him would be absurd, inappropriate.

That's why Jonghyun shifts closer, until he's almost pressed against Jinki's back. He feels Jinki shake close to him, feels the warmth of his body, just centimetres away.

"Do you need some help?" Jonghyun asks. "Tell me, hyung. It's okay if you do."

Jinki moans, "yes, please."

So Jonghyun’s palm brushes past his waist, over Jinki’s soft stomach, down to the slick-coated base of the toy, where their hands overlap so gently. Jonghyun sighs against his neck. He’s actually doing this, helping Jinki get off, like it’s just another thing they do and not completely ridiculous, like Kibum won’t slap Jonghyun on the wrist tomorrow for even staying and entertaining Jinki’s heat-induced mania.

Whatever. Jonghyun presses his hips forward instinctively. Jinki sobs and pushes back, too.

"One more," he whispers. "Think you can do it?"

Jinki nods fervently.

Jonghyun hesitates. Takes a deep breath. "Then let me, hyung. Relax."

He pulls it out, slowly, feeling Jinki shake in his arms, before fucking it back into his cunt. Jinki arches against him, then, makes an awful, choked-out noise that gurgles in his throat. If he’s trying to talk, it’s not really working, but Jonghyun can hear his own name in there somewhere, he swears.

Again. Another thrust and Jinki’s fingers tremble underneath his. Jonghyun sets a steady pace, in and out, easing Jinki into it. The toy is big, thick near the base, and Jinki drools around it like he can’t get enough, moaning loud and unashamed as he jerks his hips in time with Jonghyun’s motions.

His voice is so pretty, even now. His breath hitches and his words fail around wild sobs, pleas for something more that he's not allowed. Jonghyun wants to kiss his neck, but he settles for burying his nose where Jinki's scent is strongest. Sweet nectar, roses, a soft breeze; sex, sweat, and Jinki's overwarm body. He can barely think straight anymore. All Jonghyun knows is Jinki, making Jinki feel good, and the repetitive motion of his own wrist.

Jonghyun can't see Jinki's face like this—he wishes he could—but he's sure his expression is the very picture of ecstasy. Part of his brain wonders if this is what Jinki wanted all along.

"Feel so full," Jinki babbles, a little clearer this time, "more, please."

He can have whatever he wants. Jonghyun thrusts it in deep, imagines Jinki’s tight warmth, how it might feel to slide into him, see his own come spilling out of Jinki's messy cunt—Jonghyun, sick with Jinki's pheromones, imagines it's his cock, instead.

"You're taking me so well," he says, breathless. It sounds so unfamiliar in his voice, but it rolls off his tongue as he fucks Jinki faster. "You were made for this, hyung. Made for me."

Jinki's crying, trembling desperately. "Inside," he wails, "please, come in me, knock me up, Jonghyun-ah—ah—!"

"I will, I—I promise," Jonghyun rasps, feeling Jinki tense under him, his short fingers slipping away to grab at the bedsheets.

Jonghyun whispers gentle praise against his skin as Jinki cries, lurching forward, holding him steady as his hips jerk violently through his orgasm, letting him rock back onto the slick-wet silicone without hurting himself. When Jinki slows, finally, breathing laboured and sweat rolling down his neck, Jonghyun feels a swell of pride in his chest. He did that.

He eases the toy out and discards it next to the others in a sticky-wet pile of plastic, pats Jinki's thigh for good measure. "Okay?"

Jinki hums dazedly and goes completely limp. "So, so good," he mumbles. "Felt so good, Jonghyunnie's cock…"

Well, if that's what he wants to think.

Neither of them take the initiative to move. Jonghyun strokes circles across Jinki's stomach with the flat of his palm just to feel him. Jinki's still basking in the afterglow, levelling his breathing.

It hits him then, as he's laying beside his fucked-out bandmate with his own erection straining painfully against his underwear, that this was probably a bad idea.

He agonises over the situation in his head, imagines Kibum's face when they both walk into the practice room smelling like each other, rehearses excuses over and over—it just happened and it wasn't meant to but we didn't fuck so it's okay, it's fine I promise, and please, Kibum, stop looking at me like that—but his train of thought stops at the same destination every time, no matter what: Jinki, hunched over in his arms, moaning his name.

Everything in here smells like Jinki, powdery and soft. His slick is all over the sheets, all over Jonghyun's hand, and his dick is so hard he wants to cry. He's never been more conflicted in his life.

He resolves, eventually, to at least try and move. He'll jerk off quietly in the shower and return fresh-faced. That's it. Then he'll leave, and Jinki can take care of himself like he usually does.

When Jonghyun tries to shift away, however, Jinki whines. It's quiet, barely coherent, but Jonghyun hears the tiniest don't go.

At that, his steadfast resolve shatters into a million tiny pieces.

"Hyung, I have to."

"Don't."

"I have—" he swallows, "I need to take care of something."

"Take care of it here," Jinki says, and Jonghyun is sure he doesn't know how alluring he sounds. "I don't mind. It's okay."

"No, I'll just—"

"Does it hurt?" Jinki throws a sultry glance over his shoulder. "It's okay, Jonghyun-ah. I know. Just do what you want."

His breath hitches in his throat. Jinki's hips push back until his ass is flush against Jonghyun's hard-on. The slight touch drives him insane, even through the fabric of his loose sweats.

"Okay?" Jinki smiles softly. He looks a little delirious. "You can use me, if you want. I don't mind."

He knows better, he should say no. But he's too far gone already, and it almost feels as if he's being hypnotised. He probably is.

Holding eye contact, Jonghyun thrusts forward gently, watching Jinki's lashes flutter against his full cheeks.

"That's it," Jinki parrots back, breathless. "Oh, I can feel it. You're so big…"

He can't think straight. Jinki lulls him further away from reality, into a different headspace, where he doesn't need to think, where he only has to worry about feeling good. Jonghyun gasps, mouth agape, holding onto Jinki's hips to steady himself as he fucks into nothing.

He thinks about Jinki—fuller, with child—and sobs helplessly.

"Hyung," he cries, "Please—"

Jonghyun ruts against him, pathetic, feels Jinki's hand clutching tight at the small of his back, encouraging him to get off. He moans, humping Jinki like he's the one in the throes of heat, desperate and hazy.

"Go on, it's okay," Jinki says.

Jonghyun chokes, grips the soft fat of Jinki's hip tighter until he's sure it'll bruise, nestles his head in the crook of Jinki's neck to inhale a breathful of sweet, heady musk. It's embarrassing how close he is already.

"Next time," Jinki breathes, "you can fuck me properly, just like I wanted."

Jonghyun whimpers, "Jinki, Jinki-yah, I—"

"Do you promise?"

He nods into Jinki's shoulder. "I'll make it good for you, hyung, I will," he moans. "You'd feel so good—you're so—"

"Let go, it's okay."

Jonghyun's whole body tenses, his blunt nails digging crescents into Jinki's skin as he fights the urge bite a mark into the flesh at Jinki's nape. He sobs and thrusts his hips one last time, feels a delicious warmth spreading through his stomach, settling in the tips of his fingers, his mind hazy and full of Jinki's wonderful, sultry voice—

Jonghyun comes in his pants with a desperate moan, his cock pressed up against Jinki's bare ass. He shakes, trembles, and feels Jinki's hand stroking his hip gently, easing him down from his high.

"There we go," he says. "It feels so much better, right?"

Jonghyun pants against Jinki's sweat-damp hair. It does.

They stay like that for a while, with Jinki's back against Jonghyun's chest. Basking in each other's scents, in their own mess, softly touching where they might have been too rough. He tries to ignore the fresh slick running down Jinki's thigh and onto the bedsheets, because he'll probably go crazy if he thinks about it too much, but it seems like Jinki's happy just lazing about for now. It's almost no different from how they used to cuddle when they were younger.

"…That tickles," Jinki murmurs, and Jonghyun can tell he's smiling just from his voice.

Jonghyun hums impassively. The reality of his actions weighs heavy on his shoulders.

Jinki shifts a little, unlatches himself from Jonghyun's hold just to turn on his side to face him. His cheeks are flushed pink, his eyes glazed over and half-lidded.

Then, he brushes his fingers over Jonghyun's lips.

"Jonghyun-ah," he says, "I want to kiss you."

He feels Jinki's hot breath on his skin. Feels Jinki's eyes roaming across his face, gaze settling on his mouth. Any closer, and they'd be touching.

He doesn't know whether this is just hormones or something else. It terrifies him how much he wants it, too.

"I really should go," Jonghyun says, not before glancing down at Jinki's parted lips. "I'll let the others know you're okay. They're worried about you."

Jinki's expression falls, reaching over to hold Jonghyun's hand in his own, his palm hot and clammy. "I mean it."

"Jinki."

"Next time, then," he whispers. "Promise?"

Jonghyun nods softly. "I promise."

Leaving Jinki alone had felt so wrong, but in truth, there was nothing more Jonghyun could do for him. By the time he'd managed to pull away from Jinki's arms, it was obvious—his eyes had taken on a glassy sheen, and his words were jumbled and nonsensical. Before walking out, he'd squeezed Jinki's shoulder instead of leaning down to taste his mouth.

Jonghyun could feel the elastic-tight band of restraint inside him pulled taut. He had only just stopped himself from kissing Jinki, he's sure if both of them were less clear-headed and more reckless something worse could have happened.

There's a fresh pair of underwear in in his old room, thankfully. He runs the shower hot, scrubs himself down until his skin is pink-red and probably raw, but Jinki's scent lingers still. Towelling away the damp leaves behind a gentle note of spring on top of Jonghyun's own familiar warmth.

Jonghyun rubs at his eyes. Looks at his naked body in the mirror. It still doesn't feel real. It was a terrible idea in the first place.

(Next time, then.)

When this is over, he and Jinki can talk it out. For now, the memory of how Jinki felt in his arms is enough.

(Promise?)