#jongin fic

He looks different like this, you think.

Whenever you had snuck glances at Jongin in the gym, he was always wearing clothes comfortable enough to dance in: hoodies, sweatpants, and occasionally a tank top that showed off the toned muscle in his arms. But here he is now, smiling at you from a park bench with his coat buttoned all the way to his throat, beanie pulled low over his ears. He has a picnic blanket slung over one shoulder and two coffee cups in his hands. Here he seems so much more… normal. Not so untouchable.

Which is a good thing, to be clear. You would never have thought to approach Jongin at the gym at all, too intimidated by his general aura, but one late night workout last week had left him as the only person available to spot you. You quickly learned that he was easy to talk to, adorable even, a quiet sort of charisma that left you completely at ease. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me here even though it’s freezing,” Jongin says, handing you one of the cups. “I got you some hot chocolate if you want it.”

“Aw, thanks so much.” You grab the cup from him graciously and take a sip, the warm chocolatey liquid immediately warming your insides. “This was a good call. I feel better already.”

“The sun sets in about an hour so we have some time to just walk around and talk if you want.” His cheeks are bitten pink, either from the cold or from bashfulness, you can’t exactly tell. “But if the weather gets too bad I vote for us to run to whoever’s car is the closest and get the hell out of here.”

You smile at him. “I second that vote.”

The two of you set off at a leisurely pace throughout the park, taking in the sights of the mostly empty playgrounds and the surrounding trees. You’re not typically a person who comes to the park when it’s cold like this, so you’re not used to the relatively low amount of people. A jogger or two crosses your paths every once in a while, but for the most part, you and Jongin are alone.

“How long have you been dancing?” you ask.

Jongin looks at you, surprised. You flush, feeling as though you’ve been caught. “I— I mean, I just assumed because…” 

You realize suddenly that you only know that he’s a dancer because one time you passed by an empty workout classroom at the gym and happened to see him through the window. The control that he had over his movements, the intense concentration on his face… it was something that you would not easily forget. This also means, though, that he has never explicitly told you that he dances, and you have just outed yourself as a possible creep.

“I’ve been dancing since I was a kid,” he supplies. If he has any thoughts about your observation, he doesn’t say it. “It’s… my favorite thing in the entire world.”

“Did you ever do it professionally?”

“No, but I did think about it once upon a time. I think I prefer it like this, though. I like having something to escape to.” He wrinkles his nose. “When I have a bad day at work, or if I’m just stressed, it’s just nice to have something that lets me turn my brain off.”

The two of you continue to walk around the park, the winter sun beginning its slow descent through the sky. The two of you talk about anything and everything, getting to know each other a little better. You talk about your day jobs, your hobbies and habits, slowly putting together piece by piece of who the other is. 

“I have a question about something in your note,” you say.

“Hm?” He digs his hands in his pockets when an exceptionally chilly gust of wind blows through. “What’s up?”

“You said you always thought I was cute, so I guess I’m just curious when you noticed me?”

“O-Oh. Oh, that?” Jongin clears his throat and looks away. “I guess I’ve always been there pretty late at night, and there aren’t a lot of us so you get to know the faces that stick around. You always catch my attention since you’re usually near my path to the practice room and since, you know… you’re so beautiful.”

You flush, suddenly finding the details of the trees around you so very interesting. “I was actually working up the nerve to talk to you when you called me over last week,” he continues. “So I’m pretty thankful that things worked out that way.”

The sun is beginning to dip below the tree line, and you and Jongin make your way up to the top of a hill. He spreads out the blanket and pats the spot next to him for you to sit. The sky is painted a pale orange, more saturated the closer you look down to the horizon line, the sun a burning sphere of light.

Jongin’s face is flushed, kissed by the cold nipping at his cheeks and nose. The late afternoon light dusts him in a golden hue, shimmering like glitter on his skin. He smiles at you softly. 

“Was this date super boring?” he asks.

“Not at all! I liked how low-key it was. I liked getting to know you.”

He beams. “I liked getting to know you too. I think we could get to know each other even better next time? When it isn’t so cold, maybe?”

You laugh, your breath turning frosty in the air. “Sure, Jongin. I’d like that a lot.”

The two of you fall into silence for a bit, just watching the sun slowly slipping out of view. You don’t realize your teeth are chattering until Jongin looks at you with a worried expression. “Too cold?” he asks.

“Just about,” you admit sheepishly.

“Jeez, you’re not even wearing gloves,” he comments, reaching his hand out for yours. “Can I?”

You put your bare hands between his gloved ones, giggling as he rubs them together to generate some friction, blowing on them too for good measure. You’re too focused on him to realize a few minutes too late that the sun has set.

“Time to go home?” you ask.

Jongin nods vigorously. “Agreed.”

You all but jog back to the parking lot, eager for some reprieve from the unrelenting cold, laughing a little more with each step. What a sight the two of you must make: two grown adults trying to strike a balance between a leisurely stroll and a full-on run, trying and failing to stifle their giggles. You finally make it back, and Jongin walks you to your car, still holding your hand in his.

“I had a really great time today,” he says, smiling. “And I don’t want to make any assumptions so I’ll just wait for you to let me know if you—”

“Jongin,” you interrupt, squeezing his hand. “I already told you I want a second date, remember?”

He laughs self-consciously. “Right. Somewhere inside.”

“Somewhere inside,” you echo. 

He laughs again, disarmingly endearing, and you find yourself unable to do anything but squeeze his hand once more, excited for what’s to come.

well, that was fun! want to try another?

The city still burned, on some nights the fire turned blue, on others, dark purple, poisoned by ever shifting clouds of molten acid.

It burned beneath the crumbled towers, where android and human had fought until there were no victors left to remember why.

That's where Jongin found Arisyn.

Kneeling in the dark between broken pillars and collapsed walkways, rain hissing as it struck her exposed conduits and split plating. Her synthetic skin had been torn open with deliberate precision, exactly where the Watchers blades struck. Decommissioned, discarded machinery, feared and misunderstood, her once unbreakable alloy gone, gold circuitry stripped away. What remained was left to the mercy of toxic rain, corrosion already eating into what had once been flawless.

“I will never run again.” Her voice faltering as it spoke, glitching between tones, as if each word fought to exist.

Her words felt final, yet something in her eyes searched for disapproval, for someone to tell her “No! It's not the end”

Jongin’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

A knight without a king, bound by an oath to nothing that could name him. No longer human, or holy, he moved through the ruins as a relic of stubborn defiance, seeking redemption in a world that had forgotten the meaning of mercy, and why it ever mattered, refusing to die when so many like him had welcomed it.

He lingered in that space and time, an oddity, whispered about by survivors in the seedy corners of the citadel, a shadow slipping through portals and jump gates, always passing on, searching for a mission, a mercy or a death.

The war had taken more than banners and thrones, it had stripped him of his purpose. Without a king to serve, Jongin carried his vows like broken heralds, still heavy, still commanding, yet with no enemy left to face.

He wandered from ruin to ruin, chasing echoes of command that no longer came, haunted by the discipline drilled into his bones and the silence that followed its loss. Some nights he wished for orders, any orders, if only to quiet the hollow ache of choice. Other nights, he cursed the freedom he had bled for, drifting through a world that no longer had a place for knights and honour, only for survivors.

He lowered his hand and knelt before her, carefully untangling snapped wires and sparking circuits, the savagery of it slowing his breath. He cursed at deafened gods, as wires still charged carried a jolt through his fingers, then up arm and into his chest, waking every cell in its path.

Unaware of eyes upon him, he untangled her from the wreckage, whilst above, the Watchers gathered in silence, ominously creeping through the ruins, filling the shadows with their unnatural drawn-out stillness.

Their cloaked figures lined the upper walkways, unmoving, patient, foreboding. Men who had traded flesh for machinery in the promise of eternity, their faces removed and emptied of humanity, hidden beneath cowls of blackened chrome.

Amongst them stood the High Priestess Anthropeta. A serene, ageless, terrible master, beyond cruel, devoted not only to destruction but to undoing centuries of knowledge, piece by stolen piece, until nothing was left except a universal ignorance, a single, obedient mind with no will of their own.

Arisyn's source code was the final piece; The access buried inside her had the power to reshape the world, to bend it into something obedient and hollow and Anthropeta felt victory within her grasp, with each step she drew closer.

The first strike came without warning.

Energy blades screamed through the air, disintegrating stone and steel alike.

Jongin moved on instinct. His sword flashed, cutting down one Watcher, then another, and another, everything around him becoming a blur as sparks burst where steel met force, the impact ringing through the ruins, sharp and violent.

A blade caught his shoulder, then swiftly another tore into his ribs, then another pierced into his calf and another at his back, relentless hits until he couldn’t tell where the pain was coming from.

But he didn't slow, fighting on like a man who had already accepted death, pressing forward with reckless, brutal resolve, until synthetic blood darkened the fractured floor beneath his boots, Watchers falling under his blade one by one.

For a fleeting moment, relief brushed against him. Death was close, close enough to feel like rest, and part of him leaned toward it, craving the peace it'd bring. He was so very tired of choosing, tired of surviving without command of a crown, lingering after a war that had taken his king, and with him, the certainty of purpose. “Surrender!” He whispered softly to himself, promising silence at last.

But then his eyes found Arisyn's. Pleading, desperate, dreading the abandonment to a fate she didn't want.

Something older than despair stirred. Protection rose where the death-wish faltered, written deeper than loyalty, deeper even than grief. She carried a purpose, the way the world once had, ancient, guarded, enduring, and most importantly…hopeful. He could not lay down his sword while such meaning still breathed behind him. If he no longer lived for a king, then he would stand for what had survived, unbroken, when he had not.

Arisyn watched as his armour cracked, and his strength bled out with every breath, still, he stood, and he swung, each strike carrying a force that felt unhuman, as if will alone kept him upright. When the sword finally slipped from his grasp, he dropped to one knee, breath ragged, vision collapsing inward, knowing he had given his all.

Anthropeta descended the steps with unhurried grace, victory hovering within reach as she extended her chrome-plated fingers toward her prize.

Arisyn's ancient core drive, older than the wars, older than the empires that had risen and fallen and burned. Languages no one spoke anymore, histories of people erased from record, all the truths that were now buried to keep the present obedient and unknowing.

“No,” Arisyn whispered. “You are not worthy”, she added, helplessly covering her precious cargo, aimlessly swatting away the approaching end.

Unyielding, Anthropeta’s hand pressed against Arisyn's gold-plated chest, reaching for the faltering core.

Then something broke.

Ancient locks shattered within Arisyn, safeguards and firewalls collapsed by one and a foreign pressure flared through her frame, as her primary mother-board overloaded, ripples blazing white-hot, tearing free through every joint and seam. Then a single, high-intensity beam followed shortly, erupting from her chest, a scream of pure radiance sweeping across the chamber in a blinding arc.

The remaining Watchers froze mid-motion, synthetic bodies spasming as circuits liquefied and cloaks ignited, one by one falling where they stood, smoking ruins collapsing into silence.

Jongin did not hesitate.

Drawing on the last brutal surge of strength burning through his ruined body, he surged forward.

His hand closed around the hilt and with a cry torn from his chest, he drove the sword straight through Anthropeta’s cloak.

At first, his steel met resistance, then punched through.

The sound was wrong for the living, sharp grinding metal, followed by the wet crackle of severed wiring and failing power cells. Anthropeta stiffened, her mechanical breath catching, as sparks bled through her torn cape, unravelling in a hiss of dying circuitry mixed with synthetic blood.

The battlefield went silent, eerie and cold.

Ash drifted once more, the air tasting of metal and damaged ozone.

Jongin stood unsteadily, as the last of his strength faded away, and with it, the fury that had kept him alive. He stepped forward and lifted Arisyn into his arms.

His touches were careful.

Despite the tremor running through his battered frame, he held her as if she were fragile and irreplaceable, and not forged from metal and light, but made of flesh and blood. In the safety of his spent embrace, her systems dimmed, the glow within her fading to a soft, uneven pulse against Jongin’s chest.

Maybe that was it, maybe your sex life has been so dull and bland since that night that you needed the darkness that came with him.

“My tongue still remembers the way you taste,” Jongin says in a deep voice, a low baritone that sends shivers right to your core. “I remember how sweet you sounded as you came around my fingers, how you begged for more like it was the air you breathed.” He’s naked in all his glory and you try to rub your thighs together for friction – only to remember he’s got your ankles tied too, legs spread apart. His hands trace along your body until he stands next to you, one hand massaging your breast while the other strokes his solid cock. 

“Y-you remember me?” You don’t know why you’re surprised by this but you had assumed that he would have forgotten you in the midst of all his other exploits.

Nodding his head, he wets his lips, “you never forget your first.” He chuckles when your eyes widen, “you’re the only one to ever escape. The one who got away.” Jongin moves his hand down to your core, watching your face as you anticipate the stretch from his fingers. “Such a desperate little whore, aren’t you?” A warmth spreads across your face at the way he says those words, degrading but said with such a softness that you aren’t offended – it turns you on even more. “Why’d you come back?”

Those are the words that you are wondering yourself, the words that you are thinking at this very moment as fingertips tease along your hips and have you trying to encourage him lower. You could tell him the one reason that you’ve figured out, that you want to see stars once more but anyone could do that right? Anyone who is open and willing to indulge you could have your body grow limp as you shudder beneath them but… “I can’t stop thinking about you…”

Jongin barks out a harsh laugh as his fingers unexpectedly push into your dripping core. It’s amusing how wet you are, how easy you are when you’ve been through this and know how this will end. “So eager and willing to give yourself up for one night of pleasure?” He curls his fingers and presses them against your g-spot, giving you no time to relish in the feeling as he gives you what you’ve been wanting. Craving. “You’d let me do anything I want to you, wouldn’t you? My sweet little slut, so messed up that you think fucking the man who tried to kill you once is the only way to feel good.” His words are spoken like he’s talking to a loved one but the words themselves hit you in a way that you cannot describe.

You should hate it but you can’t. You shouldn’t want this but you do. It shouldn’t make you want more but fuck, you’re crying out for it as he has you on the edge of your first orgasm.

“Pathetic.” He scoffs, pulling his fingers from you and smirking as your eyes open in disbelief, body trying hard to tip over the edge without the previous stimulation. He brings those fingers to his lips as he tastes you, humming pleasantly as he remembers your first time together. “You are as sweet as I remember.”

Maybe he won’t kill you afterwards, the thought crosses his mind as he looks down at you and thinks about how he’ll never be able to get his fill again if he does. Maybe he won’t kill you but he’s certainly not letting you go again.

Not that you want him to.

When your inquiry went unanswered, you tried again. 

“At what point will I need to stop, drop, and roll?”, you said, giggling as the sound of chopping ceased.

Jongin’s footsteps drew closer, until you felt his knees bump against yours. “Ha, ha, very funny, jagi, he chastised playfully. “Kyungsoo taught me how to make this one, so it won’t be like last time, I promise. And I only burned the first one,” he added hastily.

He leaned in and gave you a quick peck on the lips before skirting away, skillfully avoiding your coy attempts to entice him back down for more. Sliding his hand down to rest on your lower back, he led you into what you assumed to be the dining room. A chair squeaked against the floor as Jogin pulled it out and instructed you to sit. 

You could feel Jongin’s warmth seeping into you from behind and you jumped when his lips grazed your ear.

“I wanted today to be special for you, for us,  _____–”

Your heart sped up at the sound of his voice. It was hard not to get distracted when he was so close to you, the feel of his arms around you never failed to make you melt. 

“Voila!” Jongin exclaimed,  theatrically pulling the blindfold from your eyes. 

On reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut to block out the dim light from the chandelier. After a few seconds, you hesitantly cracked an eye open, and you saw it. 

Square with rows of tiny indentations and little flecks of dark green and orange, you weren’t sure what to make of the charred–ahem–crispy item perched alone on the large, white plate. You cleared your throat, cognizant of the way Jongin was looking at you looking at his creation. Eyes gleaming with pride. Expectantly waiting for your praise. 

You chose your words carefully, trying to make sense of what you were seeing, while not shattering your gentle boyfriend’s heart.

“Jongin, baby…what’s–uh–on the menu, tonight?” 

He laughed, as though it was obvious. “It’s a fried rice waffle, silly!”

You looked between the hockey puck on your plate and your sweet boyfriend’s face, grateful for once that you’d taken that god-awful acting class in college. 

“It looks…”, you struggled to find the right word, “...interesting…”

Jongin’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “Are you gonna take a bite?”

You nodded with what you hoped was realistic enthusiasm.

God, you sucked at acting. You failed that acting class, don’t you remember? 

It was worse than you imagined. 

Way worse. 

You broke off a piece, chewing gingerly, all while Jongin intently watched your face, waiting for your reaction. All at once, your tongue was hit with a spectrum of flavors and textures–bitter, crunchy, hard, soft, and the overwhelming taste of spring onion. Just…bleh…

“So?” he asked, leaning forward, eyes wide in anticipation. 

The glob of “waffle” stuck in your throat at his question, and you swallowed hard to push it down,

“It’s..um..very crunchy…and…um…onion-y?” 

Jongin’s face fell. 

“It’s awful,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. He sat down in the chair next to you with his shoulders slumped, the very picture of dejection. “I never should’ve taken cooking advice from Chanyeol and Sehun,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

You froze. “I thought you said Kyungsoo taught you this recipe.” 

Jongin looked up from his hands and worried his lower lip.

“He did…but then Sehun showed me a TikTok and Chanyeol had a waffle iron…and I just…messed up. Why can’t I cook like Kyungsoo?” he moaned. 

He looked so sad, your baby. And he had tried so hard for you tonight. You stood from your chair and folded him into your arms, resting your chin on his head. 

“Jongin,” you started, “you and I both know that would be asking a lot of the universe. Be the most handsome and skilled dancer in all of K-Pop and be a good cook? You’d be just too amazing to be real.”

Jongin chuckled beneath you, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“Besides,” you continued, “Kyungsoo has his strengths and you have yours. Affectionate. Kind. Generous. Smooth on the dance floor. So handsome,” you listed, punctuating each compliment with a peck on the lips. 

Your boyfriend hummed in the back of his throat, a slow smile spreading on his face.

“Actually, ____, there is one more thing I have planned for tonight,” he said with a mysterious smile.  

He led you to the couch in the living room and gently pressed on your shoulders for you to sit. Telling you to wait, he flipped the lightswitch, plunging the room in darkness. Suddenly, the room was dimly illuminated by a string of clear fairy lights, the soft tones of “Peaches” drifting through the surround-sound speakers. 

“Pretty girl, you’re like peaches…it’s a soft embrace…a sweetness that spreads in my mouth…feels good to be the bad guy…”

Jongin leapt into action, his body like water, flowing through the movements like he was born to do. His eyes held yours as he flew and you knew every word of this song was meant for you. Without warning, Jongin sprung forward, pulling you up from the couch and into his arms. As the last notes faded away, you simply swayed together, enjoying each other’s nearness. 

Jongin squeezed you close and whispered words of love in your ear. You held his face between your hands and counted your blessings that this wonderful man had found his way into your life. 

You stretched on your toes to give him a kiss, only to be rudely interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. 

“Were you expecting anyone, babe?” you asked, glancing quizzically at the door.  

Jongin shook his head, just as perplexed.

You waited as he walked to the entrance and you could hear the muffled sound of a voice on the other side. The door closed and Jongin came back with a takeout container. Inside you found a feast of your and Jongin’s favorite foods–fried chicken, roasted duck, bibimbap, and tteokbokki–along with an expensive bottle of wine.  

“Did you order this?” you asked.

He shook his head, shrugging his shoulders  “No, but the delivery said it’s bought and paid for, so…” 

Across the room, Jongin’s phone lit up with a text:

“Jongin-ah, just a tip: never take cooking advice from amateurs like us. Enjoy your meal 😜.

~Chanyeol and Sehun” 

“Wow, just wow,” Jongin explained sarcastically. “Can’t trust anyone these days.”

“Except me,” you added, batting your eyelashes playfully. 

“Except you,” he agreed. “Well…shall we?” he said, motioning towards the food. 

You nodded. “Might as well,” you said with a smile. 

Running point for this solo had been just as taxing for you. Time moved in recordings, photoshoots, and appearances. You'd fall asleep and wake up reviewing the itinerary. Promotions were occurring across a variety of platforms and you spent countless hours researching and breaking down offers, liaising with event managers and security, monitoring press reviews and social media. You were in so deep, you didn't even realize you weren't living until someone else pointed it out. Nine, Baekhyun's manager, encouraged both of you to take a vacation. Pronto. Their experience shepherding Baekhyun through multiple solo albums had been invaluable, so you weren't about to argue.

Besides, you hadn't been to the mountains since your first year of high school.

It had stopped raining by the time you pulled up to your destination. Jongin was already awake, blinking heavily at the sight that greeted him.

The mountain lodge was modern but inviting. The lights were on and they spilled pleasantly out into the night. You turned the car off and stepped out into chilled air enlivened with the sounds of leaves rustling, insects chirping, and nocturnal animals stirring.

Inside, golden wood warmed the open space. The retreat was divided into two levels—living/dining area and one bedroom on the first floor and the master bedroom with a balcony that would be rich with fresh vegetables in the summer on the second.

You looked out on the living room. The designer had impeccable taste. Plush seating with cushions and pillows in sumptuous fabrics curled around a fireplace. Your toes sank into lush, layered carpeting, which bracketed and defined the space. It was comfortable and intimate. You could easily imagine yourself sinking into a chair and nestling in for a nap, lulled into a trance by the fire.

The kitchen gleamed in the opposite corner, all straight lines and modern appliances. And the dining area next to it. Table and chairs had been regally arranged in front of wall-to-wall sliding glass doors that, for now, looked out onto darkness.

But there was one particular feature that had clinched the deal when you booked the place.

“There's a spa bath here,” you said, and suppressed a smile at the soft 'ooh' Jongin let out as he disappeared to investigate.

A quietness settled over you in his wake. There was no wifi here, no work to haunt your waking nor sleeping hours. The other managers were under strict orders not to contact you unless there was an emergency.

You felt oddly vulnerable, stripped of the last vestiges of responsibility holding you together. Listless and exhausted, you climbed upstairs and fell into bed without a thought for anything else.

**

You woke early the next morning, body too used to being tired. You stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable time, thoughts eddying around without any clear distinction, like static noise that only resolved itself into proper words when you concentrated.

You'd been managing Kai for almost five years now. Hard to believe. You loved this, the sense of belonging and the endless opportunities to learn, but the pace was grueling. Five years was a long time. You couldn't imagine how some of the older managers had kept up. You weren't sure how you had kept up. And, if you were being honest, you weren't sure anymore if you should.

But that was too much thinking for this early in the morning. You rolled over in bed and shut your eyes.

After the appropriate amount of indeterminable time had passed, you heaved yourself out of bed. Sleep wasn't coming back for you. Duvet wrapped around your shoulders, you slinked downstairs to find Jongin rummaging around in the cabinets. He spun around, flinching as a drawer clanged shut behind him, then relaxed.

“You too, huh?” he said with a lopsided grin.

You nodded.  It was no surprise to find him here. You were just two bodies too accustomed to being together.

You turned your gaze to the counters. “What are you doing?”

“I was trying to make some coffee.”

He looked wan and tired. One armed wrapped around his middle, the collar of his shirt sunk low enough to expose his collarbones... like he was holding himself together, trying to stay warm.

A sense of fierce protectiveness overcame you. You were both overworked. But at least in this small bubble, this moment in time and space, nothing could hurt him, including himself. No work excuses allowed.

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” you said, and he gave a weak laugh before getting an armful of duvet shoved at him. “Go sit down, I'll bring it over.”

Jongin stood there a moment staring at you. Under-cabinet lighting slashed over his chest, the rest of him slipping into shadow before he disappeared completely as he pulled the duvet over your head.

You felt a light kick to your backside.

“Hey!” You wrestled with the duvet. “As soon as I get out of this thing...!”

But he was grinning at you when you finally pulled it off, and you felt your urge for vengeance abate far too quickly as your fatigue flared. You still punched him in the shoulder, though.

He pouted, rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh, don't give me those puppy dog eyes. You deserved it.”

“I can make coffee...”

“You can,” you agreed. “With adult supervision. Now get the kettle out.”

**

The sunrise was something pulled from a poet's imagination. The lodge perched along a low ridge and peered down into the valley. Jongin had pulled open the curtains to what only last night had looked out into darkness and now found the world at his door. Together, you watched as the sun spilled over the mountain peaks opposite, then glissaded down powdery slopes to the tree line. The trees across the valley, where the mountains were taller, were still snowcapped, and the first sun rays lit them up like jewelry before setting them aflame with light, their trunks like matchsticks to the fire. Shadows tucked themselves in to sleep at the feet of the brightest places.

Day woke and stretched its radiant fingers across the sky to tangle in the wingtips of greeting birds. And with the sun came some clarity. These last few months had tested your commitment and shaken the bedrock upon which you had built your future. But if everyday the birds could rise and welcome the the newborn morning so lovingly, you thought you could keep trying to find beauty in it, too.

Next to you, Jongin had fallen asleep wrapped in your duvet. You leaned over and tucked his toes in.

**

The village was quaint and small, situated on a scenic one-lane-each-way route that wound through the mountains. The cashier at the grocery store greeted you as you entered. You felt her eyes on your back as you moved through the store.

The cabin came stocked with various dry foods, but you needed to pick up the perishables. Most of the in-season vegetables and fruit had been grown in the area, with little signs detailing farms and their locations. Strawberries, kumquat, apples, wild parsley and chive, and even shepherd's purse laying in baskets, some of which had been foraged from the mountainside just this morning. There was a vibrant freshness to the produce here that you just couldn't find in the city.

You gathered everything you needed, taking no heed of diet restrictions or nutritional value, and went to ring up your purchases. The cashier gave you small smile and talked quietly of some of the hidden gems to visit around here, hands sweeping back and forth over the scanner as she spoke. She had a soft and lilting accent you found pleasant to listen to.

You hid your embarrassment. Was it that obvious you were from out of town? She probably knew from the moment you had stepped inside. Heck, you hadn't worried about fitting in for so long. Over the years, your accent had eroded away against standard Korean and harsh edges of the city. And the boys had been so welcoming. At least she was friendly, though. Soon enough, you were hauling your bags out to the car, but not before thanking the woman for her advice.

**

Jongin was still lying on the couch when you got back, barely awake. Two cold mugs of coffee lay abandoned on the table next to him, one still nearly full. He sat up when you walked in with the bags, frowning.

“You went shopping?”

You heard the missing “without me?” and gave him a calm look. “You were asleep and I needed something to eat for lunch.”

He gathered himself up with a frown, wrapping the duvet around himself just as you had this morning. It already felt like a day ago even though it couldn't be past 11 in the morning. He inspected the bags, pulling them open and poking through them. You watched with amusement between putting the contents of the already-poked-through-bags away.

“What are you, a dog?”

“You got pig bars?!” He pulled out the ice cream, the item cradled in his palms. He looked at you wide-eyed, some mixture of reverence and fright.

“Yes. No chicken either.”

He kept staring down at his hands and you chuckled awkwardly to fill the silence. He opened the ice bar and jumped up onto the counter.

As you put the groceries away and then began making soy bean soup with the shepherd's purse, Jongin remained quiet and watchful. You enjoyed living alone back in Seoul, but you found you didn't mind his company. His presence was comforting—a constant, quiet companion. Not a dog, then. Your lips quirked. A cat.

The kitchen filled with the beat of knife against cutting board, the melody of soft burbling from the pot on the stove. You found yourself slipping back into the rhythm of cooking, like a dancer remembering the steps to an old song.

“What song is that?”

You startled, knife slipping, nicking the knuckle of your middle finger. You hissed, dropping the knife to inspect the cut. “Shit. What?”

Jongin jumped down from the counter, grabbing your hand, apologies tripping themselves over his lips.

“It's fine, it's really shallow, don't worry about it.”

His grip tightened, and his head remained bent low over your hand, examining the cut. “Let me worry,” he said.

So you sat in muteness after washing the cut. He took your hands and dried them with a towel, soft pats and delicate swipes. His eyes would flick up to your face now and again, carefully observing your expression. Sometimes, you would catch him doing it. His lips would arc gently into a smile and you would look away, scalded by the softness of lips and eyes. You stared instead at his fingers. They moved as light as butterflies over you as he applied a bandage.

Jongin lifted himself away, a lightness to his shoulders.

The words cast themselves from your throat, thrown out like hooks, that old part of you reeling to keep his attention.

“Thank you.”

Something glittered behind that gaze. He looked you straight on with that smile like honey and said, “I was glad for the chance to take care of you.”

**

After lunch, you went straight up to your room, sank onto your bed, and stared blankly at the wall.

What was that? Your mind sped in a circuit, thoughts looping back on each other. Why'd he do that?

Surely your brain had short-circuited. He was like that with everyone, you reminded yourself, sweet and concerned. The type to ask a stranger how they're doing and stick around for an answer. But without the barrier of work, things felt different. It dredged up old feelings, back when you were half-way in love with him. It embarrassed you something fierce now, but in the beginning you used to make a playlist of all the songs you knew he listened to. You'd play it at night after work, lying in bed in the dark and wondering if right now, he wasn't doing the same. It made you long for him and feel closer to him all at once. You always paid Kim Jongin too much attention.

But at some point, you changed your focus. You threw yourself into the role of manager head first. Taking care of him was number one. You spent so much time around him in various states of undress over the years, helping with quick changes or applying therapeutic patches. You'd stood behind the cameras, watching other people fall in with him with a smile. You'd seen him at his worst, in pain, angry and sullen with the confinement of the world. It was the ultimate form of exposure therapy. Gone were the nights filled with music and yearning. You'd prepare for the next schedule before you sank exhausted into a deep and dreamless sleep. You thought you were immune.

You should've been immune.

So why did it feel so very much like you weren't?

**

You acted skittish around him at dinner, skirting over things and racing through the meal. You felt his cool gaze on you as you ate and felt yourself hunkering lower and lower over your plate like some threatened beast.

“Did you want to take a bath?”

“What?” you squeaked.

He looked up at you over his forkful of pasta, eyebrows raised.

“The bath in my room. It's like a spa. I thought you might want to relax while you're here. You're welcome to use it anytime.”

“Oh.” You swallowed thickly. “Um, maybe later. Thanks.”

Safe to say you did not take a bath in his room that night.

**

You woke first the second day. Sleep hadn't come easy, and you spent much of the night thinking of how to stop thinking, daydreaming of a long walk to purge all thoughts from your head. And so you dressed and headed downstairs on quiet socked feet. The owner of the lodge kept galoshes for the guests, and you pulled a pair out, slipping them over your shoes before walking out into the world.

Most of the snow that remained on this side of the mountain had melted, leaving behind stretches of mud that sucked at your shoes. Around you, the birds trilled. The forest was full of forest noises—pine needles brushing against the wind, woodpeckers drilling against bark. The website for the lodge mentioned that there were a number of trails maintained by a grounds crew throughout the property. A stream bordered the western edge of the property, and you thought you remembered something about a Buddhist shrine located near there.

You missed this, you realized about a half hour into the walk. Seoul had its share of scenic parks and river walks, but it felt like a held breath. Something temporary, a quick break before you returned to the rushing arteries of people making a living.

Life felt impossibly lethargic here in contrast. You realized, with one moment of panic, that you hadn't yet checked your phone this morning, before it dissipated slowly. You were on vacation, you reminded yourself. The others could hold down the fort while you were gone.

The path you were following rounded a corner into a scenic corner of the world. A small waterfall fed by snowmelt spilled over a mossy rock face into a pool surrounded by sweet grass. You stayed there for a while by the edge, mist falling over you in fine sprays. Small diamonds of water accumulated along the woolen fibers of your sleeves.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, the urge to move was back. The trail branched off here, and a lichen-covered stone marker sat in the intersection. You recognized it as one of the landmarks the woman from the grocery had mentioned. The hanja carved into it had grown worn and faded. 'Grove of the Elders' it read. You took the path to the left.

Soon, you found yourself in the Grove of the Elders. Erman's birch trees filled the clearing. The branches were still spindly, buds just forming on the tips. Papery bark peeled away from the trunk like old men's beards. White forsythia was in the early stage of blooming along the periphery. You understood why it had been named the way it had.

You made your way through the grove. The trees were well-established, some with trunks thick enough to wrap your arms around. You were making your way through the grove, marveling at the open blue sky above you, when you almost stepped on Jongin.

“Whoa.” He jumped up from where he had been reclined against the base of a tree, rubbing a hand along the backs of his thighs. “What are you doing here?”

It was disorienting to run into him here, out in the middle of the woods. You had forgotten about him, about everything if you were being honest. But confronted with the realness of him again, your worries returned.

“Me?” you asked. “I was on a walk. What are you doing laying here?”

“I was trying to read.” He flashed a heavily dog-eared paperback of Papillon. “Didn't really get that far,” he said with a wry grin.

“Oh, sorry. I'll let you get back to it.”

You made to leave when his hand stretched out and gripped your sleeve.

“That's not what I meant.” He seemed flustered at your misunderstanding and he released his grip on you. “You don't have to. I was actually thinking about stretching my legs. If you don't mind the company.”

“I don't,” you responded quietly, even though you weren't sure if that was the truth. You had come here to be alone with your thoughts after all, not spiral into a silent panic.

Jongin smiled at you and shoved his book in the back of his jeans as he fell into step.

**

It felt surreal to walk through the woods like this with him. It was like being on the set of a music video, except you were the subject. The perfect setting for a story.

“Is it okay if I tell you something?”

Jongin sent you a questioning look. Something about his eyes caught you. You realized that this was maybe the first time you were about to confide something in him. Secrets were dangerous things.  “Yeah, of course.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much of a person I am without you.” You laughed. “It's silly, I know. But I used to be so spontaneous. One time, I volunteered to pose nude for an adult art class just because, I dunno, it seemed like an experience. I liked collecting memories. My friends always used to ask me what I was up to.

“Now, they ask me what you're doing. Because it's the same thing now, I guess.”

You exhaled, then felt a hand wrap around your own.

Jongin looked at you, really looked at you. There was a particular intensity to this, a piercing quality that you had never been subjected to.

“You are more than me,” he said.

You were taken aback at his response.

His grip tightened. “I couldn't do this without you,” he continued. “I should've told you before—but I'm not like Jongdae, I forget. I think,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I thought you already knew, but it was stupid of me too assume when I wasn't... I didn't... You're the best manager I've had. I'm not saying that just to flatter you.”

The words tumbled out of him. You'd never seen him so discombobulated, and that threw you off kilter in turn. You hadn't expected anything from him, had let go of the words like balloons released from clumsy fingers, where an appropriate response might be “oh no.”

“You're knowledgeable and accountable. Do you know how much I rely on you? I was so nervous this comeback, I only made it through because of you.” He swept your hand up to his chest. You could feel his heart beating frantically against your knuckles, like it, too, was trying to tell you something. “I do better when you're around. I want to make you proud. So get that through your stubborn brain: I wouldn't be even half of what I am now if it wasn't for you.”

The tears came, unbidden. In a heartbeat, Jongin had pulled you in close, your head against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your back, while the other lay now at your sides, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

“I don't even know why I'm crying,” you laughed through your tears.

“You're always fighting for me. I just wish I could do more for you.” His fingers grazed over the bandage on your finger.

The laughter faded into full-throated sobs. Your heart squeezed with an uncomfortable fullness. You were overwhelmed. Lately, it had felt as if work was a crushing void, a thankless pit that sucked everything out of you. You felt isolated, living life without reciprocation or support. Jongin wouldn't know it, but he made you feel like a person again. He brought back the colors.

Dew drops dripped from branches around you, soft patters against soft spring grass. Jongin was warm and solid against you.

“I get scared that I can't do this forever.” The words were spoken softly. Jongin wasn't looking at you when you lifted your head, focused instead on something in the distance. “I don't know what I would I do without EXO.” He finally dropped his gaze to yours. You saw your own uncertainty reflected back. “Or you.”

You knew then that everything you'd been through lately, the uncertainty, didn't matter. You were both a little broken. So you pressed yourself against him harder, a pair of fractured hearts holding each other up. “You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon.”

Jongin sank into the embrace, his cheek pressed against your temple. You felt his chest build with a sigh, felt the exhale on the baby hairs of your nape. Dry lips grazed against you. His wordless thanks lingered upon your skin.

**

By some unspoken agreement, Jongin's hand remained in yours on the trek back to the lodge. You walked close enough to brush arms and skim each others thighs. A small part of you dreaded that you'd have to let go once you got back.

“The first time I realized I trusted you was when I told you I didn't know how to iron,” he confessed out of the blue.

You laughed. You remembered that day. Jongin had been adamant about wearing a bear-print shirt to the airport the following day, but it was so wrinkled. The collar pointed in two different directions and one sleeve was longer than the other unless someone held it down straight.

“I didn't know how to iron a shirt either,” you admitted.

Jongin grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We had to look up a tutorial on Naver, remember?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the Kyungsoo look-a-like, right? I took screenshots and sent them to Cho-hee.” You told him how Kyungsoo's manager had coerced him into recreating the shoot. Jongin had gasped delightedly and you made a mental note to show him the pictures when you got back. “But hey, wait, you still don't know how to iron, what the heck! I just ironed something for you last week!"

“Ah I don't know, I don't know,” Jongin chanted, plugging an ear with his free hand. “What tutorial? I don't know anything.”

“Kim Jongin, you are shameless.”

Laughter rang through the trees. Here was the morning you would rise to greet every day.

___________________________

A/N: The second, and final, chapter should be up next weekend (June 19-20). Me, releasing more than one thing in a month? Who am I??

Thank you for reading!

A/N 2: Second part is now up.

There’s still one or two buckets sitting around the shop space but with the rain that’s been deluging them for the past week finally stopping they’re mostly empty now. The impromptu sandbags are still by the doorway, having saved the power points from sparking and Kyungsoo vaguely thinks that thank goodness there’s no carpeting in here. It means someone has been able to mop up the spillage from the night before. Actually several someones he amends, taking in the number of handles leaning against the wall beside the front counter. Looks like a group effort.

They’re waved over by a very enthusiastic Baekhyun who is perched on a cushion next to Junmyeon and the vacant spot that must belong to Chanyeol. Jongdae takes his armful of beers and adds them to the pile of drinks in the middle of the picnic. Minseok, looking at Chanyeol like he’s some kind of small celebrity from the moment they walked in, claims a spot on the blanket for himself and Kyungsoo begins introductions.

Jongdae plonks himself down too and as Kyungsoo finishes, Jongin wanders out of the kitchen with another plate of biscuits and some napkins. He pecks Kyungsoo’s cheek as he passes and settles down to lounge amongst the others, dragging Kyungsoo down with a tug on one sleeve.

It’s Junmyeon who leans away from Baekhyun as the younger starts opening the takeout containers and dishing their contents out onto the plates. “How did the rest of the afternoon go?”

Kyungsoo cracks one of the bottles and accepts his plate of noodles from Baekhyun with a smile. “Far better than it might have been if you hadn’t been there. Thank you again.”

On his other side Jongin grins as he reaches out to snag a biscuit, poking Baekhyun repeatedly with one foot until he’s handed his own plate. “Junmyeon is the best. I’m glad he got there in time.”

The takeout is warm and savoury and just what Kyungsoo’s nerves need after today. He swallows before speaking again. “I owe you big time, really I do. You might have just saved me my job.”

Junmyeon is handed his own plate over Baekhyun’s head by Chanyeol who is half in conversation with a far too excited-looking Minseok. Something to do with wrists since Chanyeol returns to demonstrating something by circling his own with one hand. Junmyeon settles himself cross-legged and continues his talk with a mildly confused Kyungsoo. “Glad to help. From what Jongin told me he’s not likely to stop without some kind of direct action. Did you give any thought to making an official complaint?”

Kyungsoo snaps back as Jongdae sniggers and smacks Minseok’s ear , shaking his head at whatever is going on. Baekhyun falls back against the cushions in a peel of laughter. Kyungsoo takes a sip of his beer before answering. “I really, really don’t want to have to do that.”

“He’s gone too far.” Jongin looks halfway between concerned and angry. More towards anger since Kyungsoo had briefly explained the leaked photo in a rushed text before work had become too overwhelming that afternoon. “He’s blackmailing you!”

“It’s not going to end in my favor.” Kyungsoo returns to his noodles. Somewhere nearby half a cookie goes flying. “Seungwon knows Sehun’s father. They’re very old friends.”

Junmyeon sits back. “Ah,”

Kyungsoo’s mouth twists sourly. “This makes Seungwon the rot in the company tree. An infection too deep to get out. So as much as I’d like to try, it’d cost me everything.”

Jongin is still angry enough to speak around a mouthful of his own food. “Vere haff to be an opffion.” Junmyeon shoots him a look and Jongin swallows sheepishly. “He can’t just get away with this.”

Junmyeon shrugs. “You have legal recourse. You have official channels in your company. But if both are closed to you because of mitigating outside factors then we need another plan. Your pest won’t be bluffed by me for too long.”

On the other side of Jongin, Jongdae pipes up, leaning around far enough to be heard. “Can you talk to Mr Oh again? Or I don’t know… can Junmyeon? That crush sounds pretty damn big.”

Baekhyun, ears like a freaking bat, perks up from the other side mid-conversation with Chanyeol. “Wait, what?”

Junmyeon immediately sinks back into his cushions. “Nothing.”

“Nonono.” Baekhyun all but climbs over Chanyeol and makes a beeline on all fours for Junmyeon, plonking himself on top of the other’s outstretched legs. “What is this I near about a crush? Who’s crushing on you?”

Junmyeon shovels noodles into his mouth and glares at Baekhyun. Twisting, Baekhyun looks back at the others. “Someone spill. I’ve been trying to get this lonely fluffball a boyfriend since I started college. Who is Mr Oh?”

Kyungsoo takes a sip of his beer, stalling. But Minseok is the one that pipes up. “Our boss. Ask Kyungsoo. He saw the most.”

Baekhyun’s imploring gaze instantly flicks to Kyungsoo, head snapping around. The thin little choker on his neck bears the movement well and somewhere in the background Chanyeol laughs quietly.

Kyungsoo freezes, trapped between not wanting to embarrass Junmyeon who has been so kind to him and thinking that Baekhyun’s efforts really were kind of sweet. He doesn’t speak for long enough that Baekhyun slips off Junmyeon’s shins and crawls over to him. Before he can reach Kyungsoo though, Chanyeol leans out and places a hand on the cuff of his jeans.

“Baekhyun, stop. Let Junmyeon have his private life.”

Baekhyun settles back onto his haunches, eyes wide and pleading, jittery like a live wire with a desperate need for answers to his little mystery. He’s almost bouncing on the spot. But he obediently doesn’t keep prying and Chanyeol tugs him back to sit down beside himself.

That’s what makes Junmyeon unfold. “Sehun is just the son of an old client.” He swallows some of his beer but Kyungsoo can see the blush on the tops of his ears clear as day. Vastly different to the professional tone he’d heard in the office when the two of them had had their brief exchange earlier that afternoon. It makes Kyungsoo take a thoughtful bite of his dinner. That blush matched Sehun’s from earlier today in the work kitchen. Perhaps the feelings went both ways, even if Junmyeon was keeping his distance.

“Do you like him?” Baekhyun blurts out. Chanyeol’s hand comes to rest against the back of his neck and Baekhyun falls silent again, wiggling. Junmyeon’s blush expands from his ears to the peaches of his cheeks.

“The Oh family are powerful and complicated,” is the only answer Baekhyun gets. Junmyeon takes a moment, eyes on the floor. “But Sehun is a good kid.”

That’s enough to make Baekhyun squeak in delight, even if he says nothing further, kicking back to flop against the cushions behind him. That seems to unravel the mood in the room like a bound string, returning it to supple and playful. Everyone falls back into conversation and blessedly leaves Junmyeon’s love life alone.

The food keeps coming (Jongin is definitely emptying the reserves of the slowly-melting freezers) and the beers are joined by another carton that Chanyeol fetches from the kitchen. Jongin doesn’t drink Kyungsoo notes, but that’ll be because of the need to drive to his second job later.

The collection of friends -old and new- meander into smaller groups that interchange as the evening rolls on and the lamps grow brighter against the starlight outside, chatting and learning and sharing in-jokes that need far too much explaining. Kyungsoo helps clear up the plates when they change from dinner to dessert and Minseok ferries the empty bottles as they accumulate into the bin behind the counter, using the break from everyone else to snap photos on his phone that Kyungsoo knows from experience will end up in a beautiful Christmas album that Minseok gives out every year. This one will now have more faces in it than years prior and that’s somehow a wonderful thought. It’s cosy in here and full of the sound of laughter and Kyungsoo on his return takes a moment just to watch everyone sitting in the glow, leaning against the counter that Jongin always places their coffees on.

The Paw Print looks different like this. Not just the rearranged furniture, but the whole shop. It has the secret atmosphere that places have when you wander into them outside of the regular hours; a familiar school at night-time, a parking lot of a shopping centre before dawn, galleries in art museums that are empty except for you… time feels magical and otherworldly in them and Kyungsoo loves it. There’s no customers, no coffee machines whirring, no door kitty meowing, there’s just… all of them. And this space feels like their own. Like they all belong to it and to each other.

Jongin comes up behind him, shoulders bumping. His voice is soft. “I wish Yixing were here too.”

“Soon.” Kyungsoo supplies. “We have a date set, remember? It’s coming up.”  

“Yeah,” Jongin breathes, sounding fond. “It’s been too long since he’s been with everyone.”

Kyungsoo looks out as a car drives past the window, tires shushing in the water left lying around. Far beyond their lantern-lit bubble. “Did you get in contact with a repairman?”

“He can come mid-week at the earliest.” Jongin sounds pleased. “My sister can follow up with the claim going with the insurance company when she gets back tomorrow, she has more details than me. But the process has started.” Fingertips navigate under the tail of the suit jacket Kyungsoo is still wearing, into the side pocket of the matching pants. “We should be okay.”

Kyungsoo looks down at Jongin’s fingers, smiling. He slides his own into the pocket alongside it, stretching the material as wide as it can go to wind their fingers together. “I’m glad.”

Jongin settles against Kyungsoo’s side as Minseok takes a photo of Baekhyun with Jongdae behind him, both making adorable bunny ears. “They all get along. I’m so pleased.”

Kyungsoo sounds fond even to his own ears. “I think your gang just expanded.” He laughs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jongin’s voice takes on a melancholy twist and Kyungsoo can make an educated guess that he’s looking at Junmyeon lounging with Chanyeol against an arrangement of cushions they’ve piled up against the end of one of the bookshelves, bottles in hand, talking. There’s a bare spot beside Junmyeon’s opposite flank, big enough for another person. “There might be room for a little more.”

* * *

The night has settled firmly in when Kyungsoo finds that he has unexpected company. Jongin has brought the chalk board standee inside and is scrubbing his hasty message from earlier off, replacing it with a more thorough apology and a possible re-opening date of next week. Kyungsoo is perched on one of the booths near the window, ready to jump up and hold the front door open for Jongin to take it outside again once he’s finished, when the soft seat reacts to another body sitting down nearby. Kyungsoo turns.

Chanyeol nudges a small cookie topped with pumpkin frosting across the table. “You didn’t have dessert.”

Kyungsoo smiles, touched that he had been paying attention to all of them enough to realise that small fact. “Thank you.” He scoops it up. “Although I’m pretty sure we’re all going to end up halfway to diabetic after tonight.” Between the seven of them they’d managed to polish off the last remaining unspoiled food in the cafe.

Chanyeol grins, tongue poking between his teeth and Kyungsoo notes absently that that move changes his whole face. It softens him somewhat, making him a great deal less imposing. Kyungsoo isn’t quite Minseok level, but Chanyeol still intimidates him a little. Speaking of…

“Can I ask you something?” Kyungsoo wolfs down the cookie, sucking the last remnants of the icing off one thumb. “Do you know Minseok from somewhere?”

Chanyeol’s smile changes shape, hiking up one corner of his lips in a  smooth move. He looks down at the tabletop. ”No. But he may have seen me around town at a few places. I stick out a little.”

“No kidding.” Kyungsoo replies and that makes Chanyeol laugh. When he recovers, Chanyeol takes a deep breath and offers serious, friendly eyes in Kyungsoo’s direction.

“I heard what was happening at your work through Baekhyun. Jongin talks to him a lot. Always has. I wanted to say that if there’s anything we can do, just ask.”

The warm feeling that’s been nestled inside Kyungsoo’s chest all night expands a little more. “Thank you. I know you will. I just wish I knew how he got his hands on the photos in the first place. The only place I had them was on my computer, the copies I sent to Jongin’s phone and the-” Kyungsoo pauses, then raises his voice to call out across the room. “Minseok?”

Detaching himself from the animated discussion he’s having with Junmyeon over something on his phone, Minseok gets to his feet and wanders over. “Yeah?”

Kyungsoo pats down his pockets. “Did I give you that usb stick you were after the other day?”

“No.” Minseok looks just as confused as Kyungsoo. “You had it in your bag?”

“No…” Kyungsoo remembers looking through that bag -god it feels like a week ago- the other night before the shop flooded. “I checked there when you asked.”

Minseok clues in because his tone changes to concerned. “Where did you have it last?”

Kyungsoo scrambles his mind back to remember. “The office.” His words quicken as he follows the memories. “I was making hard copies. I took it from my computer, went to the photocopier upstairs and--fuck.”

“What?”

“Seungwon found me there. I lost my temper when he made a pass at me and I left. But I didn’t… I don’t remember taking the usb stick back from there. Shit.” Kyungsoo looks up, pained. “He has all the photos, Minseok. The whole shoot. Everything was on there.”

Jongin lifts his head at Kyungsoo’s raised voice, hands covered in chalk. “What does that mean?”

Kyungsoo thinks fast. “He can’t submit them for his own team. Sehun says he had to rule the whole shoot inadmissible on account of the… outtakes.” Chanyeol raises his eyebrows and Kyungsoo flushes. “They look a lot kinkier than what was going on. But that still means he could distribute more. Print whatever he wants. If they get to Sehun’s father he could put forward the same bullshit concern he tried with Sehun. And Mr Oh senior is far more likely to believe that and just fire me.”

Jongin sits back on his heels. “Fuck.”

Kyungsoo must have been loud enough that Junmyeon overhears because he approaches too. “So you’re saying Seungwon stole the usb.”

Kyungsoo’s shoulders slump. “Yeah. But I can’t prove it.”

Chanyeol sits a little higher in his seat. “Is there any way your boss’s father would believe your side of the story?”

“God no.” His laugh sounds bitter to Kyungsoo’s own ears. “Not in a million years. He’d have to freaking have Seungwon standing in front of him and admitting it out loud.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Minseok looks like he’s just had a lightbulb go off over his head. He waves his hand at Kyungsoo, clicking his fingers and pointing. “Where’s the one place a year that we still see Sehun’s father? The only time he ever might just be in the same room as all of us since he stepped down and left Sehun to run things?”

Kyungsoo blinks. “The end of year company dinner?”

“The one coming up in a week and a bit. Haven’t you seen the emails?” Minseok’s hands spread in a sharp gesture that Kyungsoo knows by now means he’s being dim-witted.

Kyungsoo vaguely remembers something about the upcoming dinner. He’s clicked past the email reminders a few times but his mind has been so far elsewhere lately that he’s not paid it much attention. He scrunches up his face. “And?”

Looking like he’s sorely tempted to smack him, Minseok reins himself in. “We have one chance at this. If we could just get Seungwon to show his vicious, creepy self, do something directly in front of Mr Oh senior that he can’t worm his way out of then we’d have a chance.” Minseok turns smoothly to Junmyeon, hands folding innocently behind his back. “We just need to guarantee that both the Ohs will be in that room a week from now.”

Junmyeon gapes. Eyes wide, he opens his mouth but only manages a few sounds before settling rather shakily on, “You know I have no legitimate reason to be there. I don’t work for your company.”

Minseok smiles brightly. “You’re a guaranteed favourite of Mr Oh senior from what Kyungsoo tells me. And,” he adds as Junmyeon gives a small groan. “Everyone at the dinner is allowed to bring a plus one. Jongin can be Kyungsoo’s. That’s guaranteed to drive Seungwon up a tree to start with. And you…”

Junmyeon covers his face with a hand. His ears are pink again.

“…Can be Sehun’s.” Minseok finishes with a flourish. “There’s a snowflake’s chance in hell that he’ll turn you down if you ask.”

Nearly all the skin Kyungsoo can see behind Junmyeon’s hand is an endearing shade of pink. Kyungsoo doesn’t dare move, wondering if Junmyeon will agree to this crazy plan. Finally with an inhale Junmyeon raises his head again. Gone is the lawyer who stared down an editor in chief and smoothly lied to both his and Seungwon’s faces without breaking a sweat. Here… is Junmyeon. Totally charming in his ridiculously obvious crush and it makes Kyungsoo want to suddenly to wrap him in a hug. But he also recognises something else that Minseok in his brashness hasn’t.

Kyungsoo stands and takes Junmyeon by the elbow. He makes him look directly at himself, eyes pulled away from Minseok, from Jongin and Chanyeol. And Kyungsoo asks him the one thing no one else has so far. “Would you be okay with doing this?” Kyungsoo knows he looks serious; chin down and tone gentle. Because this is important. “I know you’ve been keeping your distance from Sehun and you have your own reasons. We won’t ask this of you if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.”

Junmyeon gnaws on his bottom lip. His eyes are bright but he’s still shy at the thought of going on what would amount to a date with Sehun, Kyungsoo can see it in his face. And he takes pity because he genuinely likes the guy.

“The decision is up to you. We can figure something else out if need be. Only agree if this is something you want.”

“I do. I mean--let me just… Can I think on it?” Junmyeon’s tone becomes less embarrassed as he settles himself, thinking the offer through seriously. “Because if I start this I’m going to go through with it. I won’t use Sehun and then not speak to him again. That’d be cruel.”

Privately Kyungsoo thinks it might just break Sehun if Junmyeon were to date him just once and then disappear again. He knows strong feelings when he sees it and these two idiots seem to have that in spades, even if they’re not acting on it. The fact that Junmyeon realises the importance of this and cares about Sehun enough to want to be careful makes Kyungsoo’s heart ache in a happy way. Sehun could certainly do a lot worse than this big softie. “Okay. Sure. Take whatever time you need.”

“Thank you.” Junmyeon’s words are stronger now. “I said I wanted to help you. And that still stands. I just need to think this through first.”

Kyungsoo smiles. “Yeah. I understand that.” He takes a small chance as Minseok gives a happy little fistbump and goes to help Jongin with the finished board. “Sehun would be lucky to have you.”

Junmyeon smiles shyly, pulling out his phone. With a little nod he returns to the group still lounging on the cushions and Kyungsoo lets him have his space.

Chanyeol makes a pleased sound, watching him wander back. “Junmyeon has a heart of gold. Baekhyun and Jongin can attest to that.” After a pause he subtly adds, “This Sehun of yours is a decent guy right?”

Kyungsoo knows that tone well enough by now. Everyone in this group seems to do it and he laughs, unable to help himself. Chanyeol looks startled.

“What?”

Jongin comes back in with Minseok in toe as Kyungsoo is still giggling to himself. “What’s so funny?”

Kyungsoo controls himself. “You’re all so overprotective. It’s kind of wonderful. But yes,” he adds, smiling. “Sehun is a good soul and trust me when I say he’s got it just as bad for Junmyeon. I saw as much.”

“Good.” Chanyeol stands, seemingly satisfied. “I’ve seen the kind of movie nights he and Baekhyun have; Junmyeon is a total romantic at heart and he deserves the world. If neither he nor Sehun know where to start then maybe this might just be the nudge they need. If they both want to take it.”

Jongin smirks at Chanyeol, sliding up to Kyungsoo’s side. “Not like you and Baek ever had that problem.”

Chanyeol sniggers, covering his mouth with one hand to control his expression. “We’re terrible examples on how to first start a relationship. Don’t follow us.” His gaze shifts out across the room and Kyungsoo knows when he finds Baekhyun because his expression softens. Kyungsoo follows his look.

Across the room Baekhyun is sitting cross-legged on the floor, fascinated by something Jongdae is saying and Kyungsoo feels Jongin’s chin rest on his shoulder as Chanyeol stands and wanders over to them, running a hand through Baekhyun’s hair as he passes. Without pause Baekhyun tips his head right back and boops Chanyeol’s palm with his nose, then returns to listening to Jongdae. Kyungsoo smiles as one of Jongin’s arms comes into view in front of his waist and his boyfriend uses his height to peer over and down at his watch.

“I should get going soon. Did you want to come?”

Kyungsoo pauses. “The club?”

That same arm wraps around Kyungsoo’s waist and Jongin hugs him from behind, watching the others. “Yeah. You didn’t drive here?”

“No I had a lift. My car is still at the office.”

“Cool. Then come to the club with me?” Jongin’s soft hair brushes Kyungsoo’s temple as he raises his head a fraction and nuzzles the side of his face. “Watch me dance.”

“It’s mid-week. Will there be much of a clientele?”

“Not really. This is mostly a practice night. Weekends are the busiest.”

Kyungsoo finds he likes the sound of that. “Sure. How do you plan on clearing everyone out of here and closing up first?”

“They’re well trained.” Jongin replies cheerfully. “They know I need time to get to the club. Let me get changed first.”

“Okay.” Kyungsoo lets Jongin detach and watches him return to the group to explain. He uses the spare time to pick up all Jongin’s chalk and place the box back behind the counter. As he does he notices something. Sitting there on one of the back benches is a tiny opened packet of Halloween stickers with Nini scrawled over the top. Kyungsoo picks it up and turns it over. On the back is a badly-drawn stick figure and From Yixing on the back.

So that’s where he gets all his stickers from. The thought is really adorable and Kyungsoo is still looking at the packet when Jongdae comes over, pulling his jacket back up one arm.

“We’re all going to head home. Did you want a lift?”

“I’m good.” Kyungsoo thanks him. Everyone else is packing up, tidying and re-shuffling the last of the rubbish to the kitchen. “I’m going with Jongin to the club.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows lift and his mouth does that wonderful kitty smile, curving up at the corners. Kyungsoo shoves him lightly before he can make any comment. “Go collect your fanboy fiancé from Chanyeol and take him home.”

Jongdae grins. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not coming with us after all. Minseok’s so excited. He’s going to be wanting to talk about everything that’s been recommended to him.”

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to ask but Jongin reappears, t-shirt swapped out for a beautiful long sleeved, wine-red silk top tucked into his regular black jeans. It buttons only once somewhere around his abs, leaving a long trail of open skin. Kyungsoo badly, badly wants to touch. Jongin, hair quickly slicked back into his signature dance style, spots the sticker packet and makes a delighted sound, plucking one off the paper and pressing it to the top of his cheek with a fingertip. It’s a miniature glittering apple. He looks so goddamn cute.

Kyungsoo’s heartrate doubles at the charming contrast to that sexy getup. “You looks beautiful,” he offers. The resulting brilliant smile makes Kyungsoo so soft. But he’s still mildly confused enough to ask as Jongin steers him towards the back of the shop. “So is Chanyeol some kind of salesman or something?”

* * *

The gentleman’s club is pretty much as Jongin described it. There’s a few patrons at the bar since it’s still before midnight when they arrive but most of the seated dining area is deserted, chairs tipped up against the quiet tables. The performance areas and larger dance stages are roped off with several dancers in everything from stage wear to casual lycra practicing their routines. Kyungsoo admires the core strength apparent in one girl doing steadily faster twirls up and down a pole as Jongin gets him settled and meanders off to get himself set up.

They’d agreed on the ride over that after this they’d head back to Kyungsoo’s place since he really, really needs not to appear in the same suit more than twice in the same week and that way Jongin can get a full night’s rest. Both of them badly need sleep since they’re still existing on the few hours they’d managed to catch on the couch that morning.

Kyungsoo checks some of his emails on his phone while the faint bass pumps through the club, echoing a little more with it’s emptiness. He scrolls back far enough to find the last reminder about the company dinner from a while back. He vaguely remembers seeing it while at his desk. Thumb hovering over the RSVP link at the bottom where they can add their partners, he wonders again what Junmyeon will decide. Eventually he flicks the screen off without opening the link. Best not to jinx anything.

Kyungsoo settles back into his chair, acutely reminded of the last time he was here. Looking around he watches several of the other dancers for a little while. They’re fluid -both the boys and girls- but as Kyungsoo lets himself drift, he thinks faintly that none are a patch on how natural Jongin is. None have that star quality…

Kyungsoo opens his eyes with a jolt. Fuck. He must have dozed off. Snapping his eyes to his watch he’s relieved to note that it’s only half an hour past when he saw the time on his phone, but still… Kyungsoo guiltily looks up.

Jongin is laughing silently, twirling in a spin that ends with him dropping to one knee, smacking a palm on the floor for balance. He must have been watching Kyungsoo. That only feeds his embarrassment and Kyungsoo quickly wipes the tiredness form his eyes and sits up straighter. Jongin looks highly amused as he stretches out his arms and glides to his feet on a turn. The stage lighting and his own exertion has made him sweat and Kyungsoo can see how his stylish shirt is starting to stick. It’s stupidly sexy for such a small thing. He feels incredibly disappointed that he’s missed the very start of the practice so Kyungsoo is now determined to give every ounce of his attention. And Jongin in the guise of Kai doesn’t disappoint.

Kyungsoo watches as Jongin works through his routine three whole times, interchanging between slick rolls of his hips to spins that take him across the stage, swapping from contemporary to sexy and back again with dizzying ease. His long arms shield his body as he arches his chest, sliding his hands up into his hair to grip and pull like an impatient lover. Sweat pools against his collarbone and leaves a trail between his pectorals. Kyungsoo swallows.

The beat changes and Jongin turns in a circle, dropping down to one knee with the other outstretched, running an elegant hand down his whole body from neck to groin as he thrusts into his own grip. The way he pulls his lower lip between his teeth and smiles around biting it does really, really dark things to Kyungsoo. This was… perhaps not the cleverest idea. But Kyungsoo will be damned if he’ll stop watching now. Not with Jongin looking like sin up there.

Kyungsoo glances back behind himself. The patrons who were at the bar are no longer there. Only a few dancers, one or two staff and the two of them remain.

Jongin follows through with the move, flipping himself over to grind sensually against the stage and Kyungsoo lets out a slow breath, feeling his pants tighten. Jongin’s eyes fall closed like he can’t stand how good it feels and Kyungsoo can just picture his head arching back like that somewhere that isn’t an open stage. God. He can’t decide if it’s his own imagination or the idea that since Jongin has had his first taste of sex that he’s become even more provocative? Kyungsoo can almost see the switch, the edge of sensuality that Jongin embodies as Kai having grown… stronger. Or maybe Kyungsoo just has it really, really bad for his boyfriend.

The open neck of the red shirt shifts aside as Jongin rolls over onto his back and a single nipple ring catches the light. Fuck. Kyungsoo doesn’t think he can take a fourth run-through of the routine. Not without a repeat of how hard he got last time. Because this is the part that… yeah. Jongin pulls himself to his knees to face the audience again like a plaything on invisible strings, tugs open that wide shirt and winks, flashing his pretty decorations for all to see. Kyungsoo none-too-subtly shifts in his seat. He knows how those taste now. How the salt from Jongin’s skin makes the metal tangy and sharp against his tongue. The kind of noises that Jongin makes when Kyungsoo sucks his sensitive nipples.

Kyungsoo crosses his legs. Jongin the little shit, glances over and laughs silently again. He knows. He damn well knows the effect he has on Kyungsoo. This time though, he stays firmly up on the stage and leaves Kyungsoo to his slow torture.

Both hands leave the shirt and skim down his stomach to cup the insides of his thighs as Jongin makes a couple of thrusts in time to the heavy base beat, fucking empty air. His eyes are trained on Kyungsoo’s face now as he does and the intent there is unmistakable. Kyungsoo feels a pulse of heat, remembering just how Jongin reacted when Kyungsoo revealed that he’d be willing to let his little virgin bear top him. Because for all his slick stage moves that make the girls in the audience squeal, Jongin is an eager to please, fumbling bundle of enthusiasm when it comes to real sex. And Kyungsoo gets to teach him. Gets to show him how good it can feel. And…  okay, he can admit that he’s hard now. Kyungsoo is fucking whipped, no two ways about it. And everything he has belongs to that long-legged, gliding boy on stage.

Kyungsoo swallows again, clearing his throat and trying not to look like he’s some kind of pervert. But then Jongin slows down a fraction towards the end of his set and Kyungsoo sees- he does a double-take. No, he didn’t imagine it. Holy shit.

Jongin drops to his knees for the signature move that has to be done torturously slowly  and Kyungsoo trails his eyes down his heaving chest as Jongin breathes through the luxuriously long body roll, crossing his arms above his head at the wrists to accentuate the move and… Kyungsoo licks his lips unthinkingly.

Jongin is hard too. He’s fucking straining at the zipper on his perfectly tailored jeans and Kyungsoo clenches his jaw in an effort to pretend he at least has some control left. It’s a lost cause. Jongin brings his wrists down, still crossed and finally slumps a little, sides working hard as he sucks in breaths while still on his knees, legs spread. His hair is flopping in damp trails across his forehead and his eyes burn hotly as he looks up from under his lashes. Jongin -Kai- grins on one shaky exhale like there’s nowhere else he would rather be right now than horny and on his knees in front of Kyungsoo. On display in something close to a very, very public setting. Kyungsoo can hear the bar staff moving around behind him for fucks sake. Jongin ignores that. He waits, evening out his breathing.

Kyungsoo slowly glances around. There are still dancers present but none are paying attention.  When Kyungsoo turns back Jongin is still there, strung tight on the endorphins from dancing. Watching.

Feeling so turned on, feeling reckless and punch-drunk Kyungsoo slides his own hand down and uncrosses his legs. He cups himself through the suit pants he’s wearing.

Jongin goes very, very still. A pink tongue pokes at the corner of his plush lips, licking up a bead of sweat. Kyungsoo firmly trails his fingers up the length of himself through the pants. He knows the sight his dick makes even in clothing and Jongin’s eyes snap to it obediently. A deeper flush than exertion slips down his neck and Kyungsoo wonders what the fuck they’re doing, edging along this dangerous game. He can feel the inside of his underwear start to grow sticky with precum, so fucking turned on with watching Jongin watching him teasing.

Kyungsoo’s never done anything like this before. For all his experience he’s had ordinary encounters. Vanilla positions, lights off sometimes, partners who never once thought about anything outside the bedroom, let alone the house. But something about Jongin makes Kyungsoo do crazy things like have sex on the floor of a flooded bookstore and  dream stupidly wild things - like fucking Jongin on that very stage or hiking him onto a counter at The Paw Print and jerking him off just after the last customer leaves. Jongin makes Kyungsoo want to make a mess of him, and let Jongin do the same right back. It’s intoxicating. Kyungsoo squeezes the bulge of his cock, letting his lips fall open at how good it feels to finally have some pressure. The build up to sex was never this hot before. Not with anyone. Kyungsoo lets his legs fall completely open, lets Jongin see just how hard he makes him.

Raising his thumb, Kyungsoo flicks at the tab of his zipper, toying with the very notion of opening it. The reaction is instantaneous. Jongin slides forward, long legs unfolding to drop off the stage and he crosses over to Kyungsoo, grabbing that same hand and yanking him to his feet. Kyungsoo nearly stumbles, thrown off balance. But Jongin catches him and turns around. With a sharp tug Kyungsoo is hauled along, down around past the stage and through one of the doors beside it that he’s never bothered to pay attention to.

Jongin closes it behind them and Kyungsoo’s world lurches again as he’s pushed backwards a step, his back hitting the wood. Jongin crowds close, hands everywhere, eyes wild. He slots a knee between Kyungsoo’s own and drags his lips up Kyungsoo’s jugular. “You tease.” Jongin’s voice is wrecked, his words shaky. “I don’t want to wait. Please tell me I get to have you now. Please.”

Fuck. Kyungsoo pants, head spinning. Jongin’s thigh rocks against his balls, derailing his thoughts but Kyungsoo manages to make his own hands work, taking hold of Jongin’s forearms and steadying them both. Something is… “Shh, hey I’ve got you.”

Around to one side of Jongin, Kyungsoo can make out the outline of a bed and he vaguely remembers Minseok’s mention of a private lap dance at the bucks night. This must be where they take place. Along with… Kyungsoo can see the copious collections of bottles and other things on the nightstand. Along with whatever else was paid for from those select boys and girls, apparently. Huh. Okay.

Jongin is still pushing against Kyungsoo, little noises riding the tails of his heavy breaths as he nuzzles up to Kyungsoo’s ear. “There’s everything we need in here. I know we were going to go home but I can’t watch you sit there and--fuck.” Jongin’s words trail off as Kyungsoo rides his thigh, small jerks of his hips that he can’t help. “Please.”

Jesusfuck. Desperate Jongin, sweaty and hard and begging in a cracked voice is the most perfect thing he’s ever heard. Kyungsoo is dizzy with how turned on it makes him to be caged in like this against the door as Jongin grinds their hips together like if he stopped it might just kill him… and dammit Kyungsoo knows he was going to wait and make Jongin’s first time candle-lit and perfect and romantic at home (he had all these plans), but maybe it can still be just as special and a little wild at the same time. Kyungsoo’s had vanilla. If Jongin is begging for Kyungsoo to spread his legs in the back room of a strip club then he’ll comply. Because it’s Jongin.  And because Kyungsoo’s life has become one gigantic rollercoaster since he met him. So tonight… Kyungsoo turns his head and kisses Jongin, feeling the slick heat of his tongue as Jongin immediately parts his lips and surges forward, kissing him open mouthed and filthy, biting down sharply on Kyungsoo’s lower lip and hang on, this isn’t like--

Kyungsoo reaches up a hand and finds the slightly longer, sweat-damp hair at the back of Jongin’s head. He sinks his fingers in and yanks. Hard.

Jongin arches back, keening in surprise. His eyes snap open and find Kyungsoo’s, blinking, panting until they focus again. Kyungsoo keeps him held and despite Jongin’s height Kyungsoo manages a firm grip. Jongin has never kissed him like that and as Kyungsoo runs his tongue across his own swollen lip, still throbbing from the bite, he thinks he knows why.

“Who am I having sex with? Jongin or Kai?”

The question cuts sharply home. Immediately Jongin’s body slackens and Kyungsoo realises what’s going on. “Little bear,” he murmurs and Jongin shivers. “Don’t hide behind what you think I want. I want you. The real you. This isn’t a movie scene; you don’t have to act.”

Jongin’s eyes slip closed and he looks like he’s fighting to keep hold of his stage persona. “But I’m not--I don’t know…” He makes a frustrated, embarrassed sound. “This is how I’m supposed to do it all, right?”

Kyungsoo uses his grip to keep Jongin steady as he stretches onto his tiptoes. “No, no babe. You only have to be yourself,” he whispers. His lips find the tiny apple sticker on Jongin’s cheek and he kisses it. “Nini.”

Jongin breaks. His leg drops and he folds himself over Kyungsoo. His hands start to knead like a kitten instead of roaming like he’s trying to feel up every part of Kyungsoo and Jongin nuzzles behind Kyungsoo’s ear, taking a deep breath. “Say that again?”

The shield of Kai is gone. It’s purely Jongin now. Kyungsoo unclenches his fingers, petting instead of gripping. “Which part?”

“My nickname.” Jongin’s voice is a shaky mix of arousal and embarrassment. He’s still hard against Kyungsoo’s hip. “The… the pet name too. Everything.”

“Anything you want, Nini bear.” Kyungsoo kisses what little of Jongin’s neck he can reach, tasting the sweat he wanted so badly to earlier and feeling the heat from Jongin’s blush radiating against his own skin. He drops his voice down an octave. “Now I want to know what happens when I call you that when you’re inside me.”

Jongin’s hands grip. Kyungsoo grins, unseen.

“Come to bed?”

Jongin raises his head again and Kyungsoo loses himself in the heat behind those brown eyes. Jongin gently tugs Kyungsoo away from the door, backing up with Kyungsoo’s hand in his own until his legs bump the edge of the bed. Then he keeps pulling until Kyungsoo is flush against his front. So much warmth.

Kyungsoo tilts his head to look up at him and Jongin lets go of his hand. He pushes Kyungsoo’s jacket from his shoulders one arm at a time, letting it pool on the floor in a messy heap. Then his hands move to the matching tie, tugging one side from the knot and letting both ends hang open. Kyungsoo would think him so smooth if he couldn’t see how faintly Jongin’s fingers were trembling. He’s overthinking and nervous without his shield. But Kyungsoo knows his way around Jongin and distraction works perfectly.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo takes Jongin’s hands and brings the curled fists to his mouth, kissing the knuckles there. Then when he has Jongin’s full attention he slides them down all the way and places them over his cock, pressing Jongin’s palms over the straining material of his pants. “Look at what you do to me.”

Jongin moans, hands unfurling and instantly kneading at Kyungsoo, feeling along the covered length in squeezing, random patterns that make Kyungsoo’s knees weak. Jongin plays with Kyungsoo’s cock, rubbing and stroking at what he can feel, sending darts of pleasure up Kyungsoo’s spine because fuck, he’s wanted Jongin’s hands on him again so badly and it’s as good as he remembers. Jongin’s voice is breathy.

“Your face when I do this. God you’re so hard.”

Kyungsoo reaches a hand up and brushes against Jongin’s shirt until he can feel a hard bump of metal. It makes Jongin’s whole body jolt when Kyungsoo flicks it and his hands squeeze beautifully on Kyungsoo’s dick, making him gasp. God. Fuck. They could so easily get off like this if he got on his knees right now and sucked Jongin off but Kyungsoo knows he promised so much more. “I want to see you.” Kyungsoo manages, rolling his hips against Jongin’s hands. “Now. Naked.”

Jongin immediately complies with an eagerness that’s devastatingly cute, hands flying to unbutton the low hook on his shirt, tugging it from his jeans and Kyungsoo swallows around a dry throat because holy shit Jongin is always gorgeous. Kyungsoo tears himself away from the impulse to touch that bare chest that is so fucking strong his fingertips almost hurt. Instead he cups Jongin’s cheek, thumb brushing over that little sticker.

“That’s it. Now the rest.”

Jongin turns and kisses along Kyungsoo’s palm, tongue darting out to leave little kitten licks as he follows the instruction, unbuttoning his jeans and peeling them down and-- Kyungsoo can’t help it. He slaps his hands on Jongin’s bare ass because the fucker isn’t wearing any underwear. The whole time he’d been dancing he was bare under his jeans. It’s so unbearably sexy. Kyungsoo squeezes his plump handfuls and his voice doesn’t sound like himself any more, rough beyond belief.

“That’s so slutty, baby. God.”

Jongin kicks his shoes and the jeans the rest of the way off and Kyungsoo hauls them close again, all of Jongin’s bare skin against his own clothing. It feels naughtier this way and Kyungsoo’s words make Jongin mewl. He pushes his ass back into Kyungsoo’s hands and then grinds up against his belt, again and again like he’s so fucking turned on and doesn’t know what he wants more of. That idea burns and Kyungsoo is not going to make it through tonight still sane. Not with nearly six foot of desperate sin in his arms.

Jongin’s eyes are hooded as he chases his pleasure, unashamed and just wanting to keep feeling the sensations. He looks halfway to wrecked already and they haven’t really done anything. Kyungsoo looks down at Jongin’s beautiful cock as he thrusts against Kyungsoo, tanned like the rest of him and starting to leak at the tip, glistening in the low light. Kyungsoo smiles and holds them close, rolling his own hips in counterpoint until Jongin is making broken little sounds of enjoyment, lost in just feeling that slow, delicious rise to orgasm. Stretching up slightly Kyungsoo licks a trail along that stunning cut of Jongin’s jaw until he can reach an ear. He suckles the lobe just to feel Jongin shake and his needy little thrusts lose their rhythm for a second. Then he speaks.

“If I touch you are you going to come?”

Jongin whimpers, little pants of breath that Kyungsoo can feel against his hair. He slides his hands up those slim hips and the length of Jongin’s spine then back down again, giving him the touches Jongin always wants.

“Do you want me to make you come?”

Jongin pulls in one of those little pants he’s making, sucking in an inhale like it’s difficult to think. “I-I want everything else.”

Kyungsoo pats the smooth skin under his hands. “Okay. Get on the bed, little bear. You’re making such a mess all over my shirt.”

Jongin startles, looking down. Where his cock has pressed over and over, sticky streaks of precum have smeared across the bottom of Kyungsoo’s dress shirt. Jongin swallows. “I like how you look.”

“You like making me messy?” Kyungsoo gives Jongin a light push, sending him toppling backwards. Kyungsoo raises a knee and places it on the mattress just beside where Jongin’s legs drape off the edge. He pulls his open tie off and unbuttons his shirt. “What about even more? You could cover me in both our come tonight. Make me so dirty.” The shirt slides back off Kyungsoo’s arms. “You’re so pent up it’ll be such a big load.”

Jongin’s cock twitches, pressed up tight against his stomach. The flush which had started to even out spikes back to his face and he lowers his gaze, chest rising and falling. Kyungsoo loves this. Loves how Jongin craves the dirty talk and the pet names and seems to get off on the embarrassment. Kyungsoo unbuttons his belt and stands back up, sliding his shoes, pants and underwear off. His own cock slaps up against his stomach when he straightens back up and Jongin makes a sucker-punched whine at the sight. Kyungsoo smirks.

The nightstand has enough flavours of lube to fill a rainbow when he crosses over to look at it but Kyungsoo choses a basic one for now. He’s not really sure if Jongin in his overworked state is going to last very long but even if he does there’s no need for boysenberry or watermelon scented stuff. Kyungsoo is practical and Jongin isn’t going to care or expect anything different. He palms a bottle and turns back.

Jongin has let his head fall back, eyes closed as he pumps himself with both hands. The move squeezes his pecs faintly between his forearms as he works and Kyungsoo fucking snaps at the sight of those nipple rings glittering. He returns to the bed and stands between Jongin’s spread legs, tossing the bottle to land beside Jongin’s head. The impact makes him hazily open his eyes, pleasure-drunk.

Kyungsoo huffs a laugh. “You just want to come, don’t you?”

Jongin bites his lip. He mouths something that Kyungsoo doesn’t catch so he drops forward, palms bracing on the cover beside Jongin’s shoulders. “What was that?”

“In you,” Jongin repeats, just louder than a whisper. He looks like he’s about to die from saying that out loud. Kyungsoo grins darkly. Sliding a finger through one of the rings hooked through Jongin’s nipples he tugs until Jongin’s chest rises up, following the move and he cries out, a sharp wordless sound.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to last that long. Look at you. You could fuck anything and come.” Kyungsoo’s tone is wicked and he can’t help but tease. “There are silicone sleeves over there. I could get you one, slide it down over your dick and you’d fuck it. I know you would.”

Jongin keens, mouth slack. He shakes his head desperately, rolling it back and forth. Kyungsoo takes pity and releases his hold. Jongin slumps back onto the mattress, leaking and so fucking hard that the head of his cock is stained red. Kyungsoo has never wanted anything more in his life than to be here, right now. “Okay,” he soothes, “You think you can do this?”

Jongin opens his eyes with what seems like a great effort and nods, hair sticking to his forehead. Kyungsoo assesses him and then sits back on his heels. He gathers the bottle back up and cracks the cap, shifting up so his thighs are on either side of Jongin’s hips. Instantly Jongin takes hold, kneading again. If it were anyone else Kyungsoo might take slight offense at how squishy Jongin finds him, but Kyungsoo knows he’s in shape, just not stripper-god level. And that Jongin simply loves touching and rubbing and petting - and the fingers squeezing up and down Kyungsoo’s sides and thighs right now are all because Jongin at his most base level, reduced to sensation and need is a big fluff. And Kyungsoo is Jongin’s favourite stuffed toy.

Jongin licks his lips, swollen from the biting he’s put them through. “How do we…”

“I’ll show you properly next time.” Kyungsoo pours some lube out and reaches behind himself; it’s easier to prep while up on his knees than lying down. He brings his other hand to steady himself on Jongin’s stomach. “I wanted to do it to you first so you knew how it felt, but if I finger you you’re going to come so hard.”

Jongin gives a jerky nod. Kyungsoo runs his thumb against one of the sticky trails Jongin’s leaking cock has left near his belly button, pressing against his own hole with the index finger of his other hand. It’s been a while since he’s done this since people generally assume he’s a top based on his size, but fucking Jongin wasn’t an option just yet. They needed a little time and a lot more prep. Right now… Kyungsoo breaches himself, sinking down onto his slick finger with a groan. Taking his weight on his thighs, he raises up, adjusting with a few slow pumps of his hand until he can feel his rim relax enough for another wet finger. Only then does he realise he’s closed his eyes.

Opening them reveals Jongin looking like he’s being tortured as Kyungsoo slowly rides his hand above him. Kyungsoo quirks one side of his lips. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes.” Jongin is trembling with the effort of holding still and his hands have white-knuckled their grip on the top of Kyungsoo’s thighs, his tanned hands looking so damn big against him. God the strong contrast of their skin tones is stunning. Kyungsoo feels delicate, feels adored as Jongin peels his hands away and circles them up and back, fingertips feeling around where Kyungsoo is stuffing himself. Jongin’s eyes go wide.

“You’re so wet.”

“Lots of lube,” Kyungsoo laughs. He takes a deep breath and scissors his fingers, the stretch beginning to burn as he holds himself open. One of Jongin’s fingers slips between his own, pushing against the space and Kyungsoo tilts his hips back. “Go on. You can try.”

Jongin’s finger pushes in and Kyungsoo fucking arches, the thickness squeezing in there alongside his own fingers and Jongin swears, eyes locked on Kyungsoo’s face as god it’s good and Kyungsoo groans on each exhale, rocking back and forth. Fuck, he’s full. Just a little more… Kyungsoo licks dry lips.

“Curl your finger down towards my stomach.”

Jongin blinks and does as he’s told. It takes a couple of goes and eventually he has to add one more finger to get his hand twisted the right way but his digits are so much longer than Kyungsoo’s and- holyshityes. Kyungsoo cries out, spreading his thighs as bolts of pleasure swirl up his spine. Jongin gives a tiny cry of surprise and then repeats the move until Kyungsoo is twitching, hips thrusting and muscles spamming as Jongin massages his prostate.

“F-fuck,” Kyungsoo shivers, choking off a moan. “Okay, okay. Stop.” He can’t laugh but the overstimulation might just kill him because at the height of sensation tickling and pleasure are indistinguishable. When Jongin doesn’t comply Kyungsoo drags his own fingers out, grabbing hold of Jongin’s wrist and pulling him away. God, his legs are shaking. Kyungsoo allows himself to sink down, a puddle of fucking amazing sensations. Grinding their trapped cocks between them, Kyungsoo revels in how good everything feels, tingling from head to toe. It’s Jongin who loops an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist and rolls them over.

When Kyungsoo opens his eyes again Jongin is there, shoulder muscles bunched as he holds himself up. Kyungsoo doesn’t even think. He just spreads his legs and tugs Jongin down. The faint hair on Jongin’s calves feels amazing against Kyungsoo’s skin and he flings out a hand, searching he sheets for-

Kyungsoo swears, angry at himself for being such an idiot. “I forgot the fucking condom. Let me up.”

Jongin keeps his weight where it is. “I’m clean,” he laughs. “I mean that’s obvious. You’re my first.”

Kyungsoo pauses. He’d been tested after his last breakup. “…I am too.” He says slowly. “But are you sure?”

Jongin’s grin is eager. “Let me make a mess.”

Kyungsoo giggles and Jongin’s elbows shift up, lowering his centre of gravity and with his height that means he has to sit a little further up Kyungsoo’s frame in this position. He looks down the length of their bodies and hooks one of Kyungsoo’s legs around his waist. “Is this how you want it?”

Jongin is probably taking this position from porn or a movie he saw but something about being manhandled like that makes Kyungsoo wanton. He winds both arms encouragingly around Jongin as he takes hold of his cock and lines up. Kyungsoo is so exposed like this but it’s Jongin and Kyungsoo knows he would never do anything to hurt him. Kyungsoo feels the soft, wet head brush against his hole, slicking through the excess lube and mixing with Jongin’s precum. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck me.”

Jongin takes a deep breath and applies pressure, curling his hips enough that Kyungsoo whines as his head pops past his rim. Fuck yes. Kyungsoo’s own cock twitches, leaking . He’s burning up. Jongin keeps pushing and Kyungsoo steadies him with his hands, keeping him to a slow impale. “Just like that.”

Jesusfuck he’s long. It seems to take forever for Jongin to bottom out and Kyungsoo is about to burst as he finally feels his hips settle flush against his ass. Jongin’s chest is heaving; all the muscles under Kyungsoo’s hands are tensed, coiled tight. Kyungsoo softly calls Jongin’s name until he raises his head again.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo cups Jongin's face and runs his thumb back and forth across his cheek. Jongin’s eyes are huge, his mouth slack at the sensation of being inside. He closes it once or twice and then manages to choke out.

“You’re so tight.”

Kyungsoo grins. “Yeah, baby bear. You think you can move?”

A muscle in Jongin’s jaw works. “I-I’m not going to make it.”

“Yeah you will.” Kyungsoo reassures him. “Start slow.”

Jongin looks down again, almost amazed that he can watch his cock slide out of Kyungsoo. Then he pushes back in, steady and all at once this time. Kyungsoo gasps, one hand flying to his abdomen and Jongin freezes.

“What?”

“No,” Kyungsoo pushes his fingers against his stomach. “It’s okay,” he manages, shaking his head. “I can just… feel you here, god. Keep going.”

Jongin makes a broken sound and thrusts again and Kyungsoo knows the moment he squeezes his legs around him that Jongin is gone. He drops to his forearms and covers Kyungsoo, hauling Kyungsoo’s other leg higher before returning to bracing on both arms. “Fuck,” he breathes, voice cracking. “It’s so hot inside you. I can feel you clenching. Shit you’re milking me.”

Kyungsoo lets his head fall back, hands going to Jongin’s ass again as they rut close and tight like they’re in heat. It’s fast and perfect and Jongin is panting a string of praise like all he’s ever wanted is to have Kyungsoo under him, going crazy with lust at how deep he can feel him. Kyungsoo’s cock is rubbed against the abs Jongin is employing to keep his movements as fast and desperate as he needs, chasing the pleasure as Jongin’s moans become shorter and he squeezes his eyes shut, forehead dropping to rest against Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

“Tell me-” Jongin’s words are tight, choppy and so aroused it’s painful. “How do I do that again? Make you-”

Kyungsoo squeezes Jongin’s ass and pushes down at the same time as he tilts his own hips up a fraction. “From below.” He manages. “Just like with your fingers.”

Jongin braces his knees, changes the angle and Kyungsoo fucking howls as he nails his prostate. Pleasure spins out as he -fuckfuckfuck- bows upwards, hands flying up to Jongin’s thick hair as he grabs hold and undulates mindlessly into the waves that sweep over him, curling like fire in the base of his stomach each time Jongin fucks just where he told him to. Kyungsoo blindly searches for Jongin’s mouth, turning his head by the grip he has on his hair and licking into his mouth. “Harder,” he begs wetly, breaking only for air. “Just like that. Fuck me.”

“I’m gonna come.” Jongin manages, pressing messy, lapping kisses to the side of Kyungsoo’s open mouth. He licks at the tongue that peeks out, catching it long enough to suck. Squeezing a hand down between them he encircles Kyungsoo’s cock, completely uncoordinated and out of time with his thrusts in his inexperience but it’s enough. It’s enough because it’s Jongin. And Kyungsoo keeps his promise as the his orgasm is fucked up and out of him. He bursts, shooting across Jongin’s hand in thick white ropes, hitting his stomach and chest as Jongin rears back and snaps his hips, holding Kyungsoo’s legs wide with his hands behind his knees.

It feels so shameless to be splayed like this and Kyungsoo knows how he must look. “Nini,” he breathes, coaxing, covering Jongin’s hands with his own. “Come in me.”

Jongin freezes mid-thrust when he hears that, coming like he can’t help it. Overflowing hot and wet and so fucking much inside Kyungsoo that it squeezes out alongside his cock each time he drags it out, riding the way Kyungsoo can’t help twitching around him, overstimulated and shaky.

Regaining his breath, Jongin lowers Kyungsoo’s legs and goes to pull out, but to Kyungsoo’s endless amusement he doesn’t seem to want to stop pushing the head of his dick in and out of Kyungsoo’s sloppy hole, enjoying the feeling. It’s adorable and needy and Kyungsoo lays there, letting him have his fun. Finally though, he softens and slips out.

Kyungsoo goes to draw his legs up but Jongin pushes them apart again, a hand going between Kyungsoo’s legs. The touch of his fingers against Kyungsoo’s abused rim makes him jump but Jongin looks awed. He drags his eyes from his come leaking out of Kyungsoo up to Kyungsoo’s own filthy chest, streaked with even more semen.

“I did make you messy.”

Kyungsoo laughs. His limbs don’t seem to want to work properly yet and he knows it’s only his imagination but he feels fucked full of come, sated and happy. Jongin continues playing, scooping up his seed and pushing it back inside Kyungsoo, only watch it overflow again. His smiles like it’s Christmas morning when he looks up.

“You’re mine.”

Kyungsoo holds out his arms in offer of a cuddle. “Yeah,” he replies as Jongin wipes his fingers and stretches up over him, curling slightly to one side so as not to be too heavy. “I am. And you can reinforce that as often as you want. Although I may need to remember how to walk.”

Jongin’s smile widens, puffing up the skin under his eyes. “It was good?”

Kyungsoo looks pointedly down at his chest in lieu of answering. Jongin giggles, winding an arm and a leg over him despite all the fluids and snuggling close for warmth. Their sweat cools. Kyungsoo kisses Jongin’s damp hairline and just listens to him breathe. “It was possibly the best sex I’ve had in a very long time,” he finally murmurs and Jongin’s head shoots right up.

“Really?”

Kyungsoo collects Jongin’s hand and presses their palms together, fingers lined up, showing the difference between the sizes. “Not everyone can reach my prostate so I often don’t come from just penetration. And I have trouble reaching it myself.”

Jongin looks delighted. Kyungsoo taps his nose with a fingertip. “Now we need to clean up. There must be a bathroom here.”

“In just a moment.” Jongin lowers his head back to Kyungsoo’s shoulder. He links their hands again just to look at them resting on the middle of Kyungsoo’s chest. “I want to savour having you full of me.”

Kyungsoo can feel the wetness between his legs soaking into the sheets. “You sap,” he replies fondly. “Okay. And once we clean up I can take you home and put you to bed.”

Jongin yawns. “Your bed. I like the sound of that.”

* * *

That explains the cute décor. Kyungsoo smiles at the neat little furniture pieces dotted artfully about the small space. There’s a pretty potted plant on nearly every surface. “How long do you have left?”

Jongin flicks on a few lights, moving for the kitchen to turn that on as well. “Until she hires some extra staff mostly, but I think she likes having me around a little too much to be honest.” He laughs. “She hasn’t tried very hard since I arrived.”

Kyungsoo slowly meanders over to a sideboard that sits below the large, flat screen television mounted against one wall. “She’s not the only one who likes it,” he murmurs, nudging aside some leaves to look at the framed collection of photos that dot the surface. There are shots of what have to be a tiny Jongin and Jung Ah sitting on some playground equipment, one of what must have been a big family Christmas when they were a little older and a few more as the siblings have grown up, adult smiles big and matching and bright. They’re warm and cosy and Kyungsoo finds he likes seeing another corner of Jongin’s life that he never knew about.

A different kind of warmth drapes against him as Jongin returns, sliding a pair of arms around Kyungsoo’s chest. He presses kisses to the back of Kyungsoo’s neck gently, moving from one side to the other just below his hairline and Kyungsoo allows himself to lean back, holding onto those arms with his own. Jongin trails up behind one ear as he hugs him from behind.

“So about those showers we need…”

Kyungsoo laughs, tilting his head to gently dislodge that wandering mouth. “Neither of us will get to work today if we have the kind of shower you’re thinking about. Go on first.”

Jongin’s chin hooks over Kyungsoo’s shoulder and he can hear the pout in Jongin’s little ‘hmpf’ that he lets out. Kyungsoo with a little bit of shuffling manages to turn himself around in the circle of Jongin’s long arms so that he’s facing him instead. He tips his chin back so he can look up at the pushed out pink lips Jongin is displaying full force. He looks so playfully petulant that Kyungsoo nearly folds. Nearly. But not quite. Kyungsoo wants the next time -Jongin’s real first time- to be as special as possible; wants to lay Jongin out, take all the time necessary and treat him the way he abjectly deserves until Jongin is a soft mess of sensation underneath him. No more quickies in rushed places. And unfortunately, they only have a short window of time right now.

“How about this.” Kyungsoo tries. He stretches up and matches his lips to Jongin’s, pressing slow, lingering kisses against them one after the other until Jongin’s mouth opens on a happy little sound and Kyungsoo can take his bottom lip and suck on it gently. He presses the flesh between his teeth teasingly, nipping without pain. Jongin’s full lips always make him want to bite and suck. When he pulls back he’s greeted with dazed eyes and Kyungsoo smiles. “Go shower before you catch your death of cold, I’ll have one and then we might have enough time for a nap before I have to drive home and get changed for work.”

Jongin laughs breathlessly, tipping his head down so he can bump their foreheads together. He’s trying to pout again as he speaks but his words are gentle. “Fine, fine.” He shivers suddenly, betraying just how cold he must be after being soaked for half the night and then getting undressed later. He butts Kyungsoo’s nose with his own. It’s ridiculously cute. “I’ll be quick.”

Kyungsoo smiles. It’s a little absurd how much he likes this side of Jongin; at over a head taller he’s nearly six foot of impressive dancer’s muscle and yet Kyungsoo gets the impression that he could wrap Jongin up in a blanket and plushies and spoil him every day and that would be more than fine with his fluff of a boyfriend. He reluctantly steps back and lets Jongin’s hands fall away. Showers are important. “Off you go.”

Jongin suddenly looks like something has occurred to him because he lets go of the pout and smirks. “I’ll set you out some clothes.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes narrow faintly.

* * *

“This is…” Kyungsoo steps out of the bathroom and turns the appropriate corners until he finds Jongin in the lounge room. “Not exactly ‘some clothes’.”

Jongin, splayed out along the length of the couch on his side, looks up from the book he’s been entertaining himself with. His grin is bright and beautiful. “You don’t like it?”

Kyungsoo bites the inside of his lips to keep from smiling, looking down the length of himself. Jongin’s oversized, long-sleeved pyjama top barely manages to stay put on his shoulders without sliding off a collarbone and easily covers him down to below his butt. Which would be fine if there were the corresponding pants, but that was all Kyungsoo found waiting for him in the bathroom after his shower. Now he knows why. The rest is out here.

Jongin sits up, the other half of Kyungsoo’s borrowed pyjamas riding low and comfortable on his hips. The whole set is a faded mint green and at least against Jongin’s tanned skin looks amazing. Kyungsoo glares, trying for reproachful and missing the mark entirely by the way Jongin’s grin widens. He puts the book aside and holds out a hand, beckoning with wiggling fingers. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at himself and crosses the room to take it, feeling like he stepped out of a lifetime movie somewhere.

Jongin tugs him down onto the couch. The heater must have been turned on because there’s no bite to the air now. He looks immensely proud of himself. “We match.”

“I don’t think giving me half your clothing quite counts as matching.” Kyungsoo allows himself to be arranged lengthways onto the couch in front of Jongin, back to his bare chest and is immediately enveloped by a long leg and an arm. The absurdity of the whole of Jongin’s plan hits him and Kyungsoo sniggers despite himself. “Even if it is cute.”

Jongin’s nose nuzzles against Kyungsoo’s temple. “I really, really like seeing you in my clothes,” he breathes.

“You couldn’t have given me all your set of clothes?” Kyungsoo teases, tipping his head to one side, soaking in the warmth of Jongin’s skin.

“Then we wouldn’t match.”

“You’re going to be one of those boyfriends who buys us couples’ designer shirts for Christmas aren’t you?” The term slips out and Kyungsoo, as much as he can think the word now in his head, pauses, realising he’s accidentally said it out loud. It’s still so new, this whole concept. Boyfriends. Officially. Jongin though, purrs at the suggestion.

“Maybe.”

Kyungsoo gently elbows him in his bare ribs. “Don’t you dare tell Jongdae and Minseok. But if it’s from you I’d wear it.”

That produces a pleased sound from Jongin and Kyungsoo is dragged further vertical until they’re lying down completely. He’s spooned happily and Kyungsoo expects this is Jongin getting his recharge fill of touches and cuddles after their time apart. And truth be told, Kyungsoo would be lying if he also said this wasn’t the best thing ever. Just to be around Jongin again, to be held by him like he’s something precious and loved… yeah, Kyungsoo can’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be right in this moment. He lets himself drift, eyes closing until all he hears are Jongin’s soft breaths behind him, chest rising and falling against his back like a steady lullaby. One sneaking hand sinks two fingertips between the buttons on Kyungsoo’s borrowed shirt.

Kyungsoo vaguely recalls that neither of them has had much sleep the night before but by the time he does, he’s so far under he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. The other of Jongin’s hands links with Kyungsoo’s against his stomach and Kyungsoo is out like a light.

* * *

His phone going off from somewhere on the floor is what jerks Kyungsoo back into the land of the living. Jongin, half on top of him and face buried in Kyungsoo’s neck at this point makes an aggravated sound and swats a hand down off the side of the couch to push it away. Kyungsoo barely beats him to it, fumbling for the annoying thing before Jongin can batt it out of reach. He puts it to his ear and soothingly pets Jongin’s hair with his free hand as he does. It makes Jongin huff and return to nuzzling sleepily as a voice comes across the line when it opens.

“Soo?” It’s Jongdae.

Kyungsoo clears his stuffy throat. “Hey,”

“Is everything okay?”

Kyungsoo squints open an eye. There’s definite daylight in the room. Oh hell. “What time izzit?”

“Nine am.”

“Shit,” Kyungsoo breathes. Jongin snuggles closer. “I’m sorry. There was- Jongin had an emergency at the shop last night. We only got back just before dawn.”

“We?” The phone must be on speaker because that’s Minseok chiming in. “As in we’re in the same bed right now? As in we fixed things?”

Kyungsoo tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. “Mostly yes to all of that.”

Jongdae exhales. “Well that’s the one piece of good news I’ve heard all day.” There’s something off about his tone and Kyungsoo frowns, threading his fingers through Jongin’s hair because it makes him hum faintly.

“What’s going on?”

Jongdae pauses. “There’s…” He seems to rethink his words. “You should probably come in pretty quickly. Upstairs wants to see you.”

That works as well as a douse of cold water. Kyungsoo is suddenly very awake. Upstairs means… “You mean Mr Oh? Why is he asking for me?”

Minseok cuts in. “Just get in as quick as you can. We don’t know much but we’ll brief you before your meeting.”

“There’s a meeting?”

Jongin’s sleepy head lifts from Kyungsoo’s shoulder at his raised voice. Leaning closer he scrunches his face up in the most adorable way and speaks loudly enough for the phone, voice gravelly. “He’ll be there in under an hour.”

“Jongin?” Jongdae trills as Minseok butts in.

“Congratulations lovebirds!”

Jongin smiles with his eyes still closed and Kyungsoo ends the call. Jongin flops his head back down against Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Did we only get about two or three hours?”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo groans, trying not to think too much about the gnawing knot in his stomach. Something is going on and he needs to drop Jongin off back at the shop, get home, change and head into work to find out what. None of which he wants to do right now. He lets out a frustrated noise that sounds far too much like a whine to his own ears and wraps Jongin up, hugging tightly and breathing in the scent of soap and warm, washed skin and sleepy Jongin in a single deep breath before he lets go and wiggles out from underneath him, standing.

“I’m going to need pants.”

Jongin, left face-down on the couch, sniggers into the cushions.

* * *

Kyungsoo gets changed back into his old street wear while Jongin rings the insurance company. He remains on hold listening to elevator music for most of the drive back to the shop so Kyungsoo fills him in on the strange happenings at his own work while they travel. It seems like a good time to reveal the extent of Seungwon’s escalating pestering too, so Kyungsoo adds that in. Jongin looks more than a little concerned by the end of it.

“You know you can take this to your HR department if he’s starting to threaten you.”

Kyungsoo sighs, switching lanes. “I know but I’ve seen what happens to those who try. They just end up leaving in the end. Seungwon has a… twisted little history with the company.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr Oh? Sehun?” Kyungsoo pulls up behind a small knot of cars that have slowed. A light drizzle of rain drums against the roof and windows, constant and thin. It makes everything he’s saying sound a little hollower. “He doesn’t own the magazine. His father does. Sehun just manages it on his behalf. He’s a trust fund kid with a heart of gold but it’s ultimately his father’s word that’s law around the place.”

Jongin looks like he’s struggling to make the connection. “And?”

“And Sehun’s father has been friends with Seungwon for the better part of the last ten years.”

Jongin sinks down into his seat with a despondent air. “Ah.”

“Yeah. Nothing goes past Mr Oh senior’s desk. No complaint ever climbs higher. Seungwon has managed to get away with everything up until now because he effectively answers to no one. And Sehun’s father is never around to witness anything first hand, so who do you think he’s more likely to believe?”

Jongin lifts the phone to his ear temporarily, telling the operator that yes, he’s still willing to hold. Then it switches back to the lyric-less music and he looks to Kyungsoo. “Surely there must be some channel that you can use.”

“I wish there was. At this point I just want to keep my head down and ride it out. I want him to leave me alone and fixate on someone else. He will eventually. He always does.”

Jongin looks vastly unconvinced. “And what about this meeting? Has he done something to cause it? Are you in trouble?”

Kyungsoo shrugs, fingers tapping on the top of the wheel as they wait for the traffic light. His stomach tightens. “Sehun rarely calls anyone in to see them for just a chat. It has to be something. And Jongdae sounded worried. I wouldn’t put it past Seungwon to have tried something.”

“If that rat has orchestrated anything to hurt you I’ll-” Jongin swallows his angry words as his phone sparks to life. “Uh, hello yes. I’m still here. Claims please.”

Kyungsoo smiles as the light blinks green and the traffic starts to flow again, placing his hand on Jongin’s knee. He appreciates the concern, he really does. But this is a more complicated problem than most. He doesn’t know what Jongin can do to help, if anything.

Jongin covers the hand with his own as he’s transferred to the claims department and doesn’t let go until they reach the shop.

* * *

It’s close to midday by the time Kyungsoo returns home, gets changed into a suit for work and then drives back across town to reach the office. He pulls into the underground parking garage and slides the car into his marked spot, feeling jittery. Jongdae hasn’t rang again so Kyungsoo hopes that means he’s not exceptionally late and in danger of missing the meeting. Nothing else particularly urgent had been scheduled for this morning so at least he hasn’t skipped anything else vital.

It’s only as he’s grabbing his bag from the back seat, shutting the door and locking the car that Kyungsoo spots the reflection in the window. He spins around and Seungwon is there, wiry frame folded into a lean against a nearby cement column. He looks like a smug spider.

“You know we don’t have to do all this.”

Kyungsoo presses the button on his key fob and locks the car. “Do what?” he sighs, feeling that eerie sense of dread from before drip back into his stomach. He’d genuinely hoped today didn’t have anything to do with this creep. Seungwon shrugs, hiking up a bony shoulder.

“You don’t have to go through any trouble. No one needs to know about you and your little… moment the other week.”

Kyungsoo scowls. “What are you talking about?” He tries to push past but Seungwon detaches himself from the column and bars his way.

“All it would take is a simple little yes from you, you know. That’s all.”

Kyungsoo can feel his temper bubbling up and if he’s not careful he’ll be out of a job on account of hitting a senior employee. So he doesn’t punch Seungwon’s incredibly irritating face right at this second. But it’s a close call. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about. Now get out of my way.”

It’s like his words fall of deaf ears. Seungwon smoothly ignores him and places a hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, voice sickly sweet. “Come on. You do know. You, me, dinner.”

Kyungsoo actually laughs. It’s a hard bark of a sound. Incredulous. “A date? Never in a million years.” He yanks the hand off his shoulder in disgust, knowing that whatever happens now, he’s sealed his fate by the murderous look that flashes past Seungwon’s eyes. “And I have a boyfriend.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t wait for the rebuttal; the anvil he has a dreadful feeling he just knocked loose over his own head. He darts around Seungwon and strides for the elevator, bag clutched in one clammy hand. Thankfully the twin doors slide open the moment he smacks the button because he can hear Seungwon’s slow, sauntering footsteps behind him. As he hurriedly steps in and turns around, Kyungsoo hears something else that sends a faint chill up his spine.

“I know you do.”

The last thing Kyungsoo sees before the doors close is Seungwon palming something small and black into his pocket. Kyungsoo can’t quite make out what it is.

* * *

Minseok nearly bowls into Kyungsoo as soon as he reaches his office door. “Oh thank god you’re here. Meeting’s in ten. Jongdae was about to call you again.”

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo dumps his bag. “Jongin left his bike at the shop last night. I had to drop him off again before I went home.”

Minseok’s smile turns sly. “Oh, I see.”

Kyungsoo swats him. “It’s not what you think. Well not all of it. The shop sprang some leaks last night in the storm. He called for help.”

“How romantic.” Minseok neatly steps out of range of Kyungsoo’s next aim. “Did you find out the identity of the mystery man?”

Jongdae leans around the doorframe and motions for both of them. He steps in, reaches for Kyungsoo’s tie and fixes it as Kyungsoo answers.

“Did one better. I got to meet him. He’s a childhood friend of Jongin and Baekhyun. Built like something out of a wet dream but just an old friend.”

“Told you.” Jongdae gently pats Kyungsoo’s cheek. “Now stop thinking of your past fuckups and go find out what the hell is going on.”

“Wait,” Kyungsoo bats the teasing hand away. “You’re both not coming too?”

Minseok shakes his head. “No. Private meeting. We weren’t included.”

Kyungsoo frowns as Jongdae turns him by the shoulders and pushes him back towards the elevator. “What the fuck.”

His two friends practically bundle him back into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor for him as Kyungsoo stands there dumbfounded. This is sounding more ominous as each hour passes. The doors close on their worried faces and it’s all Kyungsoo can do to square his shoulders as the floors zip past, because within seconds he’s left stepping out again and looking down the long hallway to the final office suite at the end. Great.

The secretary glances up as Kyungsoo approaches, waving him through. “Go right in. You’re expected.”

Kyungsoo swallows and obeys, rapping lightly once on the wood of the door before opening it. His heart sinks completely as he sees Seungwon already sitting in one of the elegant chairs before the desk. He must have headed straight up. The gold-embossed nameplate nearby cuts a sharp silhouette.

Oh Sehun - Editor in Chief.

Behind it, poised in an impeccably cut suit, Sehun looks up at Kyungsoo’s arrival. “Please come in. Sit down.”

There are three chairs lined up in front of the desk and Seungwon is in the far left so Kyungsoo immediately takes the furthest right so as to put some space between them both. It’s a small gesture and it feels petty but it’s all he can do.

Sehun closes whatever he’s reading and sits back, one elbow on the desk. A hand goes to his mouth and he does nothing except look at both the men for a moment. Kyungsoo is abruptly reminded of Sehun’s age; when he first took charge on the singular appointment of his father, no one on the board respected the kid. His predecessor had been in charge for the last nearly twenty years, only finally retiring due to poor health. And to replace him had been announced Sehun – barely halfway through his twenties and fresh from university. It had been a bumpy road. But with no shortage of brains and on a mission to prove himself, Sehun had swiftly become as business-savvy as his father. Kyungsoo knows no one who dares question his abilities now. He’s a good guy, despite the bumpy road it took for everyone to acknowledge that he has earned the right to sit in that chair. If there’s one thing Kyungsoo admires, it’s street-smarts. And Sehun has them in spades.

Right now though, he’s looking at Kyungsoo like he can’t quite figure something out. Finally he collects his thoughts.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Kyungsoo allows his bewilderment to show. “No idea. I just got the call his morning.”

Sehun nods. “Allegations have crossed my desk that I’m forced to take rather seriously. I-”

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo interrupts. “What allegations?”

Sehun frowns at the rudeness on display. He removes a piece of A4 paper from the file he’d been reading and slides it across the desk. Kyungsoo snatches it the moment it’s within reach. It’s a simple piece of printer paper, not glossed like the originals but still clearly visible.  

“Allegations of inappropriate conduct with an individual in one of our photographic studios.”

Kyungsoo stares down at the page dismally. It’s one of the photographer’s shots from Jongin’s shoot; the pair of them are on the couch, Kyungsoo with a hand very clearly underneath Jongin’s clothing producing that very breathless, aroused look on Jongin’s tipped-back face that the photographer captured as they both laid stretched out. It looks… Like they’re both doing a lot more than they actually were in that very second. “Where did you get this?” Kyungsoo whispers. All the photos from that shoot were private and even the ones they had selected for submission had yet to be sent off.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Did someone get into my computer?” Kyungsoo looks up, voice rising. The photo crumples as his grip tightens. “Is that how you got this? Did you-” he spins to Seungwon. “-have anything to do with all this? Is that why we’re here? Is that what this whole thing is all about?”

Sehun raises a hand. “Kyungsoo, calm down.”

“No I’m not going to calm down! Answer me.”

Seungwon preens and folds his fingers primly like he has an invisible, winning hand of cards in his lap and Kyungsoo with great horror thinks he just might. Seungwon opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it is is cut off by the door behind them opening. Kyungsoo turns. The secretary barely manages to peek inside before a figure brushes calmly past.

“I’m sorry sir! He said he was expected but I’m not seeing him on the list and-”

The figure crosses into the room and to Kyungsoo’s surprise Sehun holds up a quiet hand and the secretary retreats with a mutter. Kyungsoo looks at the new arrival; the man doesn’t appear to be that much taller than himself and Kyungsoo watches him approach the desk like he’s oddly familiar with the space in here. Sliding the black briefcase he’s holding onto the corner of Sehun’s desk, the stranger takes the seat between Kyungsoo and Seungwon. He straightens his suit jacket out and smiles at everyone. It makes his cheeks puff and his eyes crescent happily.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was murder.”

Kyungsoo barely holds a steady poker face. The traffic hadn’t been backed up in the slightest and Kyungsoo knows this for a fact; he’d just driven through it not half an hour ago himself. But he stays silent as the man turns to Seungwon and sticks out a hand.

“Hello.”

Seungwon looks like he’s about to be presented with a snake. With a sour expression he takes the offered hand. “Who are you?”

“Kim Junmyeon.” The man’s voice remains entirely pleasant but his eyes are wickedly sharp. “I’m Mr Do’s lawyer.”

Kyungsoo nearly swallows his tongue. Seungwon drops the hand like it burns. “What?”

Junmyeon nods. Kyungsoo snaps his eyes to Sehun and to his great surprise the other man appears to be taking this without question. Between them Junmyeon continues smoothly.

“Now before the proceedings continue I’d like to remind you that any and all instances of defamation of Mr Do’s character will be dealt with accordingly and should he need to begin the proceedings to file a complaint of harassment I will be instructing him to do so.”

The myriad of contortions Seungwon’s facial features are doing right now are a delight to behold. Kyungsoo doesn’t know where to look or what to say. This is… what the hell is going on? Junmyeon looks to Sehun.

“Any objections so far?”

Sehun looks like he’s actually biting the inside of his cheek. Silently, he shakes his head. Junmyeon seems satisfied.

“Wonderful. Do you want to continue?”

Sehun looks to Seungwon who opens and closes his mouth like a drowning fish. Kyungsoo knows a little of how he feels. Finally Seungwon seems to gather his wits because he shoots to his feet with an angry snarl and strides out of the room.

Kyungsoo turns to Junmyeon the moment the door slams. “Wow. I-I’m sorry, who... on earth are you? How do you know me?”

Junmyeon smiles. He seems completely unfazed and Kyungsoo loves him a little for that already. “Jongin sent me,” he replies as if that answers everything. And perhaps it does. “I’m a friend. And Baekhyun’s legal guardian.”

Kyungsoo knows enough now to understand that reference. “You know… all the others?”

Junmyeon nods. “Jongin thought you might need some help today. I came as quickly as I could.” A second later out of nowhere an eraser smacks into his temple.

Junmyeon turns and Kyungsoo has never seen anyone level Sehun with that kind of a look. Nor seen Sehun sink back into his seat like a sulky child. Kyungsoo would actually laugh out loud if he thought he wouldn’t get immediately fired for it. Junmyeon continues smoothly on as if he didn’t just have his imaginary pigtails pulled.

“I think we managed to avoid this mess for now, but I’d like to talk to you about your options later if that’s okay. Jongin wants to meet at the shop.” Junmyeon glances down at the photo and Kyungsoo hastily folds the paper. A brightly-colored paperclip sails through the air and Junmyeon snatches it without looking. “About five if that’s enough time for you after work-- are you done?”

Sehun pouts. Kyungsoo is beginning to think that he might have actually been hit on the freeway this morning and this is all a very strange, coma-induced dream. Junmyeon stands and Kyungsoo follows, shaking his hand when he really, really wants to hug the guy right now instead. “Okay. Um, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bring your friends. The more the merrier.”

Kyungsoo smiles for the first time in what feels like hours. “Yeah they’re going to want to meet you.” He glances at Sehun. “Am I uh, free to…”

Sehun waves a hand. “Yes. Dismissed.”

Kyungsoo ducks out gratefully, closing the door just in time to hear Sehun.

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls?”

…Yeah, that was definitely a whine. Kyungsoo is one hundred percent in a coma.

* * *

Catching up on the latest edits before they go to print for the fortnight takes time and it’s all Kyungsoo can do to send a quick, still-in-shock group text to Jongdae and Minseok to let them know they have unexpected plans tonight before he’s swamped. It’s nearly the end of the afternoon before Kyungsoo has enough time to even make himself a coffee. And that’s where he finds to his great surprise, none other than Sehun. Who never uses the communal kitchen to Kyungsoo’s knowledge. He stops short of entering.

“Ah. Hi.”

Sehun looks like he’s had a longer day then even Kyungsoo. His tie is wonky and his smile is tired. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure. Anything.” Kyungsoo realises he’s standing awkwardly rooted to the spot so he makes himself move, covering the tiny distance to the coffee machine just for something to do. Sehun inhales like even that takes effort.

“Your photos came across my desk anonymously. I don’t know who sent them. But it was Seungwon who first came to me with his concern. He said they were making the rounds of the office.”

Kyungsoo crumples the coffee pod he’s taken hold of in reflex, the movement startled out of him. “What?”

“I don’t know if that’s true or not.”

It takes a conscious effort for Kyungsoo to unclench his hands. “That was a private shot of my boyfriend and myself. No one else was supposed to see it. We were there for the competition shoot but that photo and several others weren’t for submission. He was modelling for us on my request.”

Sehun is quiet for a long moment. The machine hums as Kyungsoo adds another, unbroken pod. Eventually Sehun speaks.

“You know that my father will at bare minimum rule the photos as inadmissible. The entire set. Especially if they really are being distributed around.”

Kyungsoo turns around. Sehun looks… sorry. Kyungsoo sighs. “I know there’s no point in arguing but I really wish you could talk him out of it. There’s some really amazing stuff in the collection.”

Sehun’s smile is frustrated at the edges. “You and everyone else in this building knows there’s no way he’ll listen to me on that kind of a matter. Especially if Seungwon is involved in any way.”

Kyungsoo’s lip curls but he holds his tongue, switching topics. “You seem to know Junmyeon.” The coffee machine trickles it’s bitter offering into the paper cup. Sehun to his great surprise goes bright pink, raising a hand to the back of his neck. Kyungsoo averts his eyes and politely watches the drizzle instead so as not to make him uncomfortable. Sehun eventually replies.

“He tried a case for my father a long time ago. Very high profile. He did exceptionally well. Occasionally my father still has him around for dinner. It’s the only time I really see him.”

Kyungsoo plucks the warm cup out and deposits it on the bench. “I see.” The milk in the fridge is only skim and Kyungsoo pulls a face at it but takes it out regardless. “He seems like a genuinely lovely person.”

“He is.”

Kyungsoo wonders briefly, crazily for a single second if he should mention the fact that Sehun for once knows exactly where the lawyer in question is going to be tonight. Is that what he’s been wanting? To see Junmyeon outside of the confines of his father’s looming presence? He seems to have been trying to get into contact with the guy. But Sehun is… still his superior and Kyungsoo doesn’t know if it’d be inappropriate or not to bring it up. He’s learned an awful lot in the past day and he’s still digesting it all. So he says nothing.

Sehun’s melancholy voice from behind Kyungsoo’s turned back changes position as he moves for the exit. “Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo turns. Sehun is silhouetted in the empty doorway. He drums his fingers thoughtfully on the frame for a second. “There’s still a few days left until submissions are closed. Our studios will be fully booked by now.”

Kyungsoo nods sadly. “Yeah I know.”

Sehun squints into the thin air around them, looking anywhere but Kyungsoo. He addresses the nothingness between them as if he’s thinking out loud. “I feel I should note that nowhere in the submissions conditions of entry does it specify that the photos have to be studio-shot. The winning shoot will be professionally done with Gucci, but as far as I’ve been instructed the entries that we’re picking from can be taken any way you see fit.” Sehun lifts one shoulder. “Just... so you know.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. Sehun quirks his lips in a smile, turns and disappears in a whisk of expensive suit.

* * *

Jongdae and Minseok take one look at Kyungsoo’s face when they see him at the close of business and offer to buy beers on the way to the shop. It means they can all take one car (Minseok and Jongdae’s it’s decided as it’s easily the biggest) and it adds extra time onto the trip for Kyungsoo to explain everything that’s happened.

Minseok nearly rips his seatbelt out of it’s brace when Kyungsoo starts with the story of the meeting and the stolen photos. By the time they arrive at the shop Jongdae is halfway into calling an Uber to take him back to string Seungwon up by his fingernails and it’s only Kyungsoo dovetailing him into distraction by filling them in on Junmyeon that stops him. They both listen in silence just as stunned as Kyungsoo had first been.

Minseok still looks like he’s two seconds away from committing a murder though, so Kyungsoo finishes up with Sehun and his frankly adorable crush to try and take their minds off what can’t be changed right at this moment. They all… need a break. A breather. And the sight of The Paw Print’s large windows glittering at sunset feels like… coming home. Kyungsoo lets out a breath and feels a hundred times lighter at the faint lantern glow he can see pulsing from inside.

The closed sign and Jongin’s hastily-scribbled, apologetic chalk note on the blackboard standee outside shows they’re still not open for business but Kyungsoo can see cheerful movement inside amid all the makeshift lights that have been rigged up. Lots of it.

He pulls into the car park in one of their usual spots and decides to knock on the front door. It seems only right since it’s not just Jongin present. Jongdae loads his arms with the cold drinks and they make their way across the damp asphalt.

Minseok’s polite knock rouses a lot of noise from the crowd inside and there’s a series of thumps that grow energetically closer until a person pulls opens the door. Kyungsoo looks up in surprise.

He’s… wow he’s tall. Kyungsoo abruptly realises that he’s never actually seen this particular guy standing up, only sitting quietly at one of the tables in the shop. The man grins at them all like Kyungsoo, Minseok and Jongdae are long-lost friends he hasn’t seen in forever and Kyungsoo feels abruptly warmed from something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and comforting all at once.

“Hey!” The figure holds the door wide to usher the three of them inside. “Come on in, we’ve all been expecting you.” The last rays of sunset catch his hair and set the beautiful color on fire. “I’m Chanyeol.”

* * *