#teaco

Jiho is drunk with pleasure, drowning in the ecstasy of Taeil’s lips and hands grazing hotly on bare skin. He shudders when Taeil whispers filthily up his chest to against his neck and Jiho comes undone so easily. Biting hard on his lips, he tries to muffle the threats of moans bubbling in his throat. Taeil chuckles right into his ear, saying his name as if it’s so fragile that the silence could break it and Jiho loves that, loves the sound of his name echoing from Taeil’s tongue, thick with lust.

But he doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to be wrapped so fucking tight around Taeil’s fingers, doesn’t want to get too attached to something he thinks Taeil doesn’t want more of.

His back arches off the bed when Taeil’s teeth sink into the crook of his neck, smug lips kissing lovingly on bruising skin. Taeil closes his mouth around Jiho’s lips, pushing past Jiho’s hesitant tongue to lick the roof of his mouth. Taeil rests his forehead on Jiho’s, catching his breath. Jiho holds him by the shoulders, eyes averted and unsure. Concerned, Taeil questions him without words, brows arched when Jiho simply turns away. He calls out his name quietly and Jiho’s eyes reflect so much that Taeil doesn’t understand.

“Do you want me to stop?” Taeil asks, and Jiho wants to say yes. Jiho wants him to stop being so kind. To just fuck him senseless and take away any self-worth he has. To be so rough and uncaring that it stabs his heart dead so he doesn’t have these flutters he feels whenever Taeil even looks at him.

Instead he shakes his head. The tapestry of his rationality unravelling into loose threads. Taeil thumbs Jiho’s cheeks in circles then gently dips in, kissing him long and slow. He closes his eyes shut, parts his lips and lets his thighs accommodate Taeil more.

He slackens his hands and wraps them around Taeil’s neck, drawing him closer until they’re chest to chest and he can hear the hammering of his heart. Against Taeil. For Taeil.

And he wants this, wants this again, wants this all the fucking time.

When Taeil hoists Jiho’s legs higher, going deep and pressing just right, Jiho no longer has reservations and simply buries deep in his bones the hurt that will be inevitable when morning comes around.

[*]

Jiho makes out Taeil’s sleeping face in the dark, touching his jaw with trembling fingers. He thumbs over the angry red marks on Taeil’s shoulder, and hopes Taeil feels proud to wear them like he would be with the accidental bruises left on his own wrists and hips. Jiho is tired and sore. He sighs, feeling ashamed in relishing in the warm drowsiness post-sex. He doesn’t want this at all; stuck in a cycle of wanting Taeil more than as a fuck buddy and self-loathing at how easily he crumbles for Taeil.

He snaps his hand back when Taeil shifts, an arm draping over Jiho’s naked torso. Taeil’s touch burns him. He pushes the icy fingers away and scoots further from the sleeping body in front of him, turning his back and edging on the bed.

He doesn’t want me that way, Jiho tells himself, self-destructing in the way stars implode and collapse.

Taeil fills the gap between them silently then pulls Jiho by the waist closer to him, Jiho’s back to his chest. He kisses Jiho’s shoulders and feels the muscles tense up, feels Jiho frozen beneath his touch.

“You’re awfully quiet lately Jiho, is something wrong?” he asks. Jiho pretends to have fallen asleep, refusing to melt his body against Taeil’s warm chest. “Jiho?” Taeil whispers as he ghosts his hand over Jiho’s skin, tracing constellations.

At Jiho’s penetrating silence, Taeil sighs loudly.

Jiho inches away from Taeil’s grip but the harder he tries, the tighter Taeil winds his hands. He relents to being held in Taeil’s arms, trying his best to not enjoy being encapsulated in Taeil’s warm embrace. Taeil spoons Jiho until he hears even breathing, feeling Jiho’s body finally relaxing back into his chest. He calls his name again, nuzzling into Jiho’s hair and basking in the warmth of Jiho’s body. He drags his lips across Jiho’s shoulders one last time before crawling out of bed, needing to breathe away from Jiho’s suffocating silence.

Taeil lights up a cigarette, taking deep hauls of smoke into his lungs, hazing his mind. As he blows ashen rings into the air, Taeil thinks of Jiho; the lean body, the tattoos adorning his skin, the feline eyes tightening as Taeil pushes him closer to the edge, closer to becoming a mess of mewls and moans. A shudder courses in his veins as images of Jiho, sprawled and spent, naked and slicken with a sheen of sweat, mouthing his name, arching into his touch – Taeil sinks into the memories of Jiho beneath him, Jiho as quiet as a freight train, Jiho, Jiho, Jiho.

He stubs out the remnants of his cigarette that has quickly faded into littering ash. His hand slips into his boxers as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply to catch that intoxicating presence Jiho in the house. He mutters his name, heavy on his tongue with need and want. Taeil wraps his hand around his cock, with the other hand moves up his chest and rubs hard buds between calloused fingers.

He could have easily wake Jiho up, kissing him senseless back into wakefulness. Rips the covers off Jiho’s waiting body and straddles slim hips with forceful hands gripping pale skin. Taeil could have easily melds his mouth hotly over Jiho’s, licking lips and roofs of mouth. He could have repeat what he did to Jiho just hours before, feeling that quiver and revelling in the moans of his name coming from such delicious plump lips. Taeil’s back arches. He moves his hand faster as he thinks of Jiho, eyes shut and hips rolling forward. He thumbs across the head of his cock, suppressing the groan in his throat. He doesn’t need to get himself off while Jiho sleeps on his bed. He doesn’t need to work hard to get Jiho whimpering for him.

But lately Jiho’s been withdrawn; averting gazes and passively lets Taeil play with his body.

Sometimes he catches Jiho bucking for more, more hyung please but that would follow up with a confusion Taeil doesn’t understand. Jiho would kiss him too rough, bites him too hard, stares at him too unkindly. Taeil shakes off the image and thinks of the Jiho he loves; shy, pliant, happy to have Taeil fucking him.

Taeil lets himself come with images of Jiho on his knees, soften eyes ready to please.

His eyes sliding close, he reaches out for the roll of tissue when he feels gentle hands on his stomach. Jiho looks up at him with the smallest smile, cleaning up the come smeared across his stomach. Taeil takes his wrists but Jiho moves away.

“Why didn’t you wake me up,” he asks softly, back turning away in the guise of taking more tissue.

Taeil sits up straighter. “You were already sleeping soundly. I.. I didn’t want to bother.”

The pregnant silence hangs between them, choking the air out of their lungs. Jiho turns and wipes down Taeil’s stomach.

“You used to wake me up. You always woke me up.”

“Yeah. Well, you used to always spoon me after sex. Tonight you were all weird and quiet. Whenever I touch you, you would flinch. Looking away, pulling away, as if I’m burning you Jiho. Then you come here and ask me why I didn’t wake you up to jack me off.”

Jiho opens his mouth but closes it, looking away, again. Taeil wants him to stop averting his gaze, to go back to how fun sex was with each other. To be so shameless and moan loudly for his touch, his kisses, his teasing.

“What changed, Jiho,” Taeil asks. He knows the reason when he sees Jiho’s hesitation. “Jiho, are you in love with me?”

This is why we should have never started this, Taeil thinks as he takes a stiff Jiho into his arms. He smooths out Jiho’s blonde hair, rubbing down his back to pacify his quiet sobs. Taeil should have known they could not be intimately physical without someone getting hurt. He should have realized it, acknowledge Jiho’s feelings and turn away. He should have known he’s hurting Jiho in that destructive way. He should have known, he should have known, he should have known.

“I’m sorry, Jiho.”

Jiho clings tighter onto Taeil’s shirt, letting his heart disintegrate into smithereens against Taeil’s chest, hoping the sharp shards could hurt Taeil in the same way he’s bleeding inside.

Taeil kisses the sides of Jiho’s face, thumbs stroking his cheeks in circles and Jiho wants to push him away, wants to stab the pain right out of his chest and maybe stab Taeil too. Jiho wants Taeil in the way Taeil cannot commit to for him and he wants to cry again. Instead, Jiho turns and returns the kisses.

He presses his lips against Taeil’s, dissolving his needs in what Taeil can offer. Jiho melts into the heat of Taeil’s mouth, warmth seeping into his very bones to lighten up the heaviness in his heart. He drags Taeil closer, hands at the back of his head while Taeil’s own hands rest on his shoulders. They breathe deeply, refusing to divorce melding lips.

Taeil pulls away and presses their foreheads together, inhaling deep and slow. He brings their hands down and laces their fingers. Standing on his toes, Taeil kisses Jiho’s cheeks and his lips, lingering, waiting, wanting.

Jiho thinks Taeil’s lips are soft and warm and gentle and oh god he wants Taeil.

“Hyung, can you don’t be sorry and love me too?”

Jiho sounds so unsure, so timid, so broken.

“I already love you, Jiho,” he answers, cupping Jiho’s face.

“But you’re not in love with me, are you,” Jiho sighs out, gaze falling to his feet.

Taeil presses his bottom lip between Jiho’s and Jiho latches on, each savoring the tenderness in the moment. This is all new to them; no frantic hands, no rushed grinding, no bruising demands. Just, gentle kissing.

“I want to, you know. I really do.”

There is something about Jiho that makes Taeil’s heart ache. And race. And hammer. And calm. And heavy. And light. There’s something about Jiho Taeil cannot put a finger on and he should have known, too.

“Okay.”

 “Okay?”

Jiho nods. Jiho thinks this would have to suffice. He doesn’t want to want Taeil, doesn’t want the burden of a love forgotten. A love unwanted and wasted. This would suffice; the little kisses and cuddles and amazing sex. This should suffice.

“Go on a date with me.”

Jiho eyes him worriedly, then suddenly angry. “I don’t want to be your fucking pity date.”

“You’re not my pity – “ Taeil breathes. “Go on dates with me,” he repeats. “I know we can’t do-over how we met but I want to know you. More about you. I want to know more than what makes your body quiver, how breathy your voice sounds in moans and whines. How to get you looking beautiful with matted hair on your face and sweat rolling down your back. I want to know you as a person, with hopes and ambitions. I want to fall in love with you, Jiho. If you give me the chance, I want to fall irretrievably in love with you.”

Jiho looks at him. Still air shrouds them into a vacuum and Jiho feels breathless, weak, hopeful. Taeil waits. His nerves wind tight on his tongue, his legs, his hands but Taeil, too, is hopeful. The epiphany is belated but welcomed; he wants this too. He wants Jiho.

Jiho steps forward and Taeil musters some courage to close the gap between them.