Work Text:
“I’m calling it a night.”
The words, as soon as they’re stated, Jaemin takes as a sign of defeat. An act of submission. Another productively well-spent evening proving to his long time rival exactly who was superior. He finishes typing one last entry and marks a note off his notebook triumphantly before lifting his head to flash Lee Jeno his most smug look of self-satisfaction.
“Another day, another defeat?”
The look Jeno gives him is wholly unimpressed. With a single arched eyebrow and lips set into a flat line, it’s clear he disagrees despite the obvious truth. How sad to be so disillusioned.
“It’s after 11 pm,” Jeno states matter-of-factly, glancing at the time on his laptop. “We’ve been here since 4. Mark left hours ago. Are you seriously using how long we work in the lab as a competition?”
After being rivals for almost two years, Jeno should have known that he wouldn’t miss any opportunity to engage in competition. That's their quintessential history. Jaemin’s favorite thing was, and continues to be, the look on Jeno’s face when he messes him up with defeat. Being assistants together for Mark’s research and having to work together doesn’t change a thing.
“Just admit you can’t last as long as me and go.”
At that, Jeno’s expression finally changes into another that Jaemin’s begrudgingly also quite familiar with: narrowed eyes until they’re sharp with provocation, dark and a little dangerous, and his stupid devilish tongue poking out to run across his lips. Jaemin hates when he does that; it puts his mind in all the wrong places at the wrong times.
“I think you know exactly how long I can last,” Jeno tells him lowly.
Jaemin does know. Intimately well. But he doesn’t like Jeno thinking he has the upper hand on him in any situation, so he makes a show of shrugging and looking unconvinced. Sleeping together doesn’t change that aspect of their rivalry either.
“Do I?” he asks musingly, returning his attention to his laptop in a show of nonchalance.
His hands barely make it back on the keys before Jeno rounds the table and whips his chair around with so much force, his arms go swinging. A curse starts to form on Jaemin’s lips—but then Jeno is there leaning over him, face pressed close and dark eyes glittering with challenge. Jaemin knows that look too; it’s another one of his (private) favorites.
“Come with me right now and find out,” Jeno drawls, almost intimidatingly. The tongue is out again too, tip visible from the corner of his mouth in just that way. Jaemin scowls when he catches himself staring. Curse his stupid rival for being so infuriatingly sexy.
Admittedly, he’s tempted by the offer. After the grant competition ended, they had thrown themselves hard into setting up for research. There were countless things to do, prepare, and calculate before even starting, and Jaemin has to scrub his memory hard to recall the last time he didn’t spend all daylight hours cooped up in Mark’s lab. Between that and his own work and seminars, he hasn’t had much time at all to even breathe.
Needless to say, it’s been a while since he did anything with Jeno either. The last time he snuck over to Jeno’s apartment after working in the lab, he ended up conning his rival into ordering food for him and then fell asleep before it even delivered. And that was at least two weeks ago. The memory of it increases his temptation further.
“I can’t,” he says instead.
Ugh. Jaemin hates when his obsession with work and perfectionism get in the way of relaxation. Which, admittedly, is a fairly large portion of the time. The recent development is that it now also gets in the way of getting laid. He sighs at himself in annoyance.
“I want to get the methods down and perfected by Monday,” Jaemin tells him in resignation. “On top of that, I’m meeting Dr. Park tomorrow for advice on my own thesis.”
Before his eyes, Jeno’s expression softens into understanding in a way that only he can manage. The sharp look of competitiveness fades and is replaced with a fondness that Jaemin’s still not quite used to. There’s an uncomfortable feeling that blooms in him, like a spike of his low blood pressure, making Jaemin turn his head back to look at his laptop in a sad attempt at hiding.
In response, Jeno just chuckles as if he knows. Maybe he does, as his motions suggest. He closes the rest of the small distance between them to place a gentle kiss at his temple.
“Don’t work too hard.” Jaemin can’t see well out of the corner of his eye, but he knows Jeno’s smiling. “I’ll help.”
“You’d better,” Jaemin snaps back. When he turns to face him, Jeno’s still so close that their dark bangs cling together. For a moment, he’s trapped by a jolting feeling of breathlessness, the almost crushing gravity of being so close in Jeno’s orbit. The intensity of it draws him in irresistibly, and before he realizes how, he’s kissing Jeno’s lips.
There’s no fire or bite in it, like how often it is when they both feel deprived. This one is soft and faint, still a little foreign in its gentleness, yet leaves Jaemin aching in its wake. He opens his eyes after he’s pulled back, unaware he had closed them. And when his vision comes back into focus, he sees the full spectrum of Jeno’s smile.
“You,” he begins again slowly, lifting his thumb to swipe at the lingering saliva on Jeno’s peach lips, “had better pull your weight around here.”
Then, he smirks. “Assistant number two.”
Jeno lets out a low growl in response that’s almost animalistic; Jaemin could practically envision bared teeth and flat back ears of a snarling wolf. To complete the image, he captures the tip of Jaemin’s thumb between his lips for a lick before releasing it again to stand up straight.
“No one said you were number one.”
“I keep working here longer than you so aren’t I?”
“You just do that to try to beat me.”
“Thought you loved it when I beat you.”
“Well, I invited you over just now but you said no.”
There’s a certain comfort that Jaemin feels in the return of their usual banter, like a reset to default, factory settings. Normal people probably felt most at ease with whispered praises and reassurances. Jaemin, on the other hand, feels it most when he and Jeno are battling each other—his most familiar, and maybe favorite, rhetoric.
“Even if you don’t come over, you should quit for the day,” Jeno tells him, reaching across the table to pull something out of his bag to offer. Artificial tear vials. “Not much time left in it anyway. Your eyes must hurt, right?”
Jaemin rolls his eyes for impact but takes the vials from his rival’s hand anyway. While administering the drops to his eyes, he shamelessly calls out, “Still monitoring my weaknesses?”
Jeno smirks back. “Always.”
Once the tear vial is empty, Jaemin takes a bleary look at the time on his laptop and reluctantly decides to concede.
“Fine,” he mutters grumpily. “But I still want this done by Monday so you’re helping me finish up on Sunday.”
For whatever reason, Jeno stiffens a fraction at that. If Jaemin wasn’t trained to catch his rival’s even slightest slip ups (for future taunting purposes), he might even have missed it.
“Sunday?” he repeats in unnecessary solemnity.
“Yeah,” Jaemin repeats as he begins to gather his belongings. “I told you I’m meeting Dr. Park tomorrow so Sunday’s the only day left. What, you got plans?”
The solemnity persists on Jeno’s expression when Jaemin looks up at him. Weird. Jaemin almost wants to ask, but then Jeno finally answers, “Not for Sunday.”
“As expected,” Jaemin taunts gleefully without the slightest hint of shame. “Of course you don’t have any plans. I know your world revolves around me.”
This time, Jeno rolls his eyes a full 360, and Jaemin takes it as a win.
There’s a scarce hour and a half left before his meeting with Dr. Park when Jaemin realizes he left a vital document with Renjun. Since it’s before noon and his best friend always insists on getting an unnecessarily early start on each day, Jaemin figures it’s safe to just go over.
“Junnieee,” he sings out as soon as the door swings open.
“‘Sup, Jaem.”
To his surprise, it’s not his best friend who answers the door. It’s Donghyuck, aka his cohort from another faculty, aka Renjun’s coffee buddy, aka the suspiciously knowledgeable best friend of his sworn rival. Jaemin can’t help but narrow his eyes a little at the sight of him in distrust.
Before long, Renjun pokes into view from behind Donghyuck, no doubt pattering about in his kitchen, if Jaemin has to guess. His obsession with caffeine had recently escalated into experimenting with cold brew, a new hobby he certainly puts his hours into. Jaemin thinks his friend is pretty decent at it. On the other hand, Donghyuck has informed him his taste buds are dead and Renjun was serving them the equivalent of dirt clumped soil water on the regular. As expected from the friend of his own insufferable rival: rude.
“Want some coffee?” Renjun asks as Jaemin trails into the flat.
Donghyuck signals a noticeable no for warning, complete with a shake of his head and neck slicing motion. In a show of support and friendship, Jaemin ignores him.
“Sure.”
“Your funeral,” Donghyuck mutters with a shrug as he passes, flopping himself on the couch comfortably. Jaemin raises an eyebrow. When did they get so chummy?
While Renjun busies himself with his concoction, Jaemin helps himself to his missing work that was collected neatly on his friend’s desk. As much as Renjun likes to tell him off and lecture him, he’s still quite reliable in looking after him. Truly irreplaceable elements in a best friend.
And then, there’s Donghyuck.
“I saw you keeping Jeno out late again,” he comments from where he lies on the couch, sly grin curved on his lips. “Do you ever let my buddy rest?”
Jaemin presses his lips into a flat line in the same stroke his brows drop low into a furrow.
“He’s free to leave the lab whenever he wants,” Jaemin announces flatly. “I think it’s obvious who’s doing more work on the project anyway. Maybe your buddy should let me rest by pulling his weight.”
To that, Donghyuck snorts but keeps grinning as if he knows something. Very unnerving of him. Jaemin doesn’t let his guard down to be safe.
“You’re super weird, Jaem.”
Definitely rude. Jaemin wants to open his mouth to retort, but Renjun strolls into the room in interruption with a cup filled with liquid darker than sin itself. He hands it over to Jaemin before kicking Donghyuck’s legs off his couch like a star soccer player to make space for himself.
Jaemin takes a sip from the cup. It tastes like dirt straight from a garden in hell. Weirdly, Jaemin still finds it acceptable enough. He takes one more sip as reinforcement.
“I can’t believe he’s surviving your assassination attempt,” Donghyuck tells Renjun, to which Renjun replies with a solid punch to his arm that makes him wince visibly. Jaemin doesn’t envy Donghyuck; Renjun may not be strong but he punches with years worth of pent up rage. That, and he has really pointy knuckles.
“What’d you come over for?” Renjun finally asks after Donghyuck is finished pretending that he died. “The documents you left last time?”
“Yeah,” Jaemin confirms, downing the rest of his friend's hell brew in one gulp. “I have some things to show Dr. Park today for my thesis and the rest of Sunday is dedicated to ironing out the methods for Mark-hyung’s research.”
“You’re working on Sunday?” Renjun asks with a raised eyebrow. “Is the lab even open?”
“No,” Jaemin admits. He puts down his cup on the coffee table, where Donghyuck marvels at it actually being empty. “But I’m making Jeno help me so maybe we’ll work at the graduate library or something. Needs to be done by Monday.”
At that, Donghyuck gives him an exaggerated look of amusement and leans forward on the couch in great interest. “Oh, you’re working with Jeno, are you? Just the two of you? On Sunday?”
“Yeah?” Jaemin returns him a weird look before re-addressing Renjun. “Junnie, want to work with us for a couple hours? We can get food and coffee. My treat.”
“Tempting, but pass,” Renjun quips immediately. “I’m not working that day.”
Jaemin frowns in deflation. “Why not? Don’t you have a deadline on Monday too?”
“We’re going to a party,” Donghyuck butts in to inform, ever helpful.
When Jaemin continues to look at Renjun in confusion, his friend finally sighs and clues him in.
“It’s Valentine's Day.”
“And some of us are single,” Donghyuck adds again.
Jaemin takes offense immediately. “What? All of us are single.”
This time, not only Donghyuck but even Renjun gives him a look that’s so judging, Jaemin almost actually feels shame. Doesn’t change the fact that he still doesn’t get what they’re insinuating. That aside, the words about the day take their time sinking in, and Jaemin lets several minutes pass before the gravity of his error finally clicks in his mind.
“Oh my god,” he mutters, fatalistic realization dawning on his face as slow as the rising of the sun. “I set a work appointment with Jeno. On Valentine’s Day. What if he thinks it’s an actual date?”
“What’s the big deal?” Renjun asks in what seems like actual, genuine confusion. “Aren’t you guys dating?”
This time, Jaemin returns the look of bafflement with the addition of vaguely alarmed shock.
“What? Junnie, no. No way. Lee Jeno and I are not dating.”
While Renjun looks as if he might commit murder out of pure exasperation, Donghyuck leans forward to stare at him in morbid fascination. The weird smile and wickedly gleaming eyes make Jaemin more than a touch uncomfortable. He feels like a spectacle in a zoo or something.
“You’re a one-step-forward, two-steps-backwards kind of person aren’t you, Jaem?”
“Two steps backwards implies regression,” Jaemin states, annoyed.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Once delusional, always delusional,” Renjun remarks from his side.
Despite what his friend and Jeno’s friend say, Jaemin isn’t lying. They aren’t dating. Dating would involve going on dates, which they haven’t. Mentioned here and there or occasionally threatened, sure. Actually going on one though? An actual date that isn’t getting food and having sex—or vice versa, the more frequent case—has yet to happen. Therefore, not dating.
Besides, Jaemin still feels kind of weird about it.
“We’re not dating,” he repeats for posterity. “He’s my rival.”
“Right,” Renjun replies dully. “You’re just sleeping together.”
“Junnie!”
Jaemin’s eyes fly wide open at that, eyes darting over to Donghyuck in mild concern. To his surprise, Donghyuck doesn’t look fazed at all. He’s so suspiciously unaffected, it’s as if he already knew.
“Oh yeah, I already know,” Donghyuck dispassionately confirms.
This is Jeno’s fault, Jaemin decides. He doesn’t know if it was actually him who told Donghyuck, but he decides it’s his fault anyway. Anyway. Now that it’s out, Jaemin decides he’ll just have to own it on the recovery.
“Whatever,” he says in his best impression of indifference. “So what if we do? Doesn’t change anything. We’re still competitors, even if we occasionally have to collaborate.”
“Or blow each other?”
“Shut up, Donghyuck.”
While Jaemin is busy glaring down Donghyuck and his familiarly smug expression, Renjun remains relatively quiet. His friend doesn’t say much, his expression remaining entirely unimpressed. The look is hardly a new one. Jaemin could even say it’s the default look Renjun addresses him with whenever he goes on his usual tirades about Jeno and their rivalry.
“Just rivals,” Jaemin repeats vehemently.
“Uh huh,” Renjun slowly says after a while, sounding unconvinced. “And how many times have you slept with Mark then?”
“What? Zero.” Jaemin frowns immediately. The thought is borderline appalling. No offense to Mark; he just doesn’t think about him like that. Ever.
“Aren’t you just having casual relationships with your rivals?” Renjun ruthlessly continues.
“Mark-hyung isn’t my rival. He’s a senior.”
“He beat you both out for the grant, but okay sure.” Renjun punctuates this with a mock shrug that makes Donghyuck look like he’s doing his best to hold back a whistle at the verbal smackdown. “He doesn’t count? Jeno’s special then?”
“Yeah, Junnie, he’s special,” Jaemin decides to admit, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “He’s special in that he’s my only one true enemy.”
The sound of Renjun groaning is probably loud enough to pierce the heavens and dramatic enough to earn the pity of angels. His eyes roll heavenward to match, all the while Donghyuck sits beside him with an unchanged grin of amusement.
“Anyway, why are you always dissing me in favor of Jeno? You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
As Jaemin should have expected, Renjun is absolutely ruthless with him with his alleged tough love. Heavy handed with brutality and forthright with his words, he reminds, “Uh duh? Jeno’s super nice? Best friend or not, you’re seriously, seriously delusional.”
“I’m telling you, he’s not that nice,” Jaemin retorts passionately, waving his papers around for emphasis. “He’s always trying to fight me. You’re just never around to see it. And he’s super clingy.”
Donghyuck finally revives with a snort. “You might be the only person on the planet who would describe Jeno as ‘clingy.’ The guy can’t even tell his parents he loves them.”
“There.” Jaemin points at Donghyuck as he makes his point. “See? Evidence. Not telling your parents you love them? Not nice guy culture at all.”
“I mean he’s not good at showing affection,” Donghyuck clarifies, despite Jaemin not having asked. Then, he pauses again as another smug, cryptic look crosses his face. One that Jaemin can’t get a read on, and therefore decidedly does not like.
There are many things about the way Donghyuck speaks that grates on Jaemin’s nerves—from the tone to the unwarranted confidence. It’s a little reminiscent of Jeno in that way; which makes some sense of their friendship. At the same time, Donghyuck’s self-assurance and conviction in speaking is also entirely different to Jaemin. When Donghyuck talks and smirks in that way, Jaemin feels nothing but irritation, the same sensation he gets when a fly buzzes into his face. But when it’s Jeno, he feels fire and a heat that makes him come alive.
With one last sweeping look, Donghyuck grins crookedly. “Maybe you’re a little special after all.”
Jaemin has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Frankly, he’s not sure if he wants to if Donghyuck is the one that will have to elaborate. Time is also running short on his upcoming meeting, making him have to cut the conversation as it is—probably a blessing in disguise.
As he makes his way out with his papers and the start of a Donghyuck-induced migraine, Jaemin is dealt one more striking parting blow to his psyche when said migraine-starter reminds:
“Have fun on your Valentine’s date.”
It’s not a date, Jaemin reminds himself with a grimace. No way, no how.
When Sunday—another day of the week absolutely with no other significance to it—arrives, Jaemin makes sure that it’s exceedingly clear that their meeting is not, in fact, a date.
He starts by proposing they work in the library or the graduate conference room. Turns out the library was closing early. Incidentally, because it was Sunday, the only day of the week they actually closed early by their entirely regular schedule. That was out.
The building where the labs are happened to be closed as well that week. And while Jaemin was blessed with a key to Mark’s lab as an assistant, it was useless when the entire exterior building was closed. Another out.
“Let’s just go back to my place,” Jeno suggests again for the nth time, starting to look bored after Jaemin’s fifth attempt to search for open conference rooms to book on campus. “We work there all the time.”
On that, he’s right. They did work there all the time. They also ended up fucking there all the time, work or no work notwithstanding. And while under normal circumstances, that was hardly a development that mattered him, on this particular day, Jaemin isn’t sure if he should set himself up for it. It would be too date-like, wouldn’t it?
So Jaemin consciously ignores him. “How about my place?”
Jeno just raises an eyebrow in response. “Won’t your roommate be there?”
“No, he’s out with his gi—”
Oops. Jaemin has to stop himself before he gets to the cursed d-word, lest another reminder of the day come up again. Thankfully, Jeno gets the general idea, though not fully the hint.
“Okay,” he begins slowly and skeptically. “And if we were to go to your room, where do you expect us to work?” He pauses, pregnant with implication. “On your bed?”
Damn it. He hates when Jeno makes decent points. Defeat is close at hand; they both seem to acknowledge it. Time keeps ticking away as well, and Jaemin’s itch to continue being a workaholic is starting to manifest as an almost physical pain.
“Fine. Let’s work at your place.”
The way he states it is so dramatically grumpy that Jeno actually snorts out a laugh. And despite his better instincts, Jaemin sneaks a look.
Jeno today is as he always is without anything out of the ordinary. No special dress, no special actions, just Lee Jeno, same as he was the day before. While Jaemin struggles to keep the implication out of all they do, Jeno looks entirely unperturbed and calm. And despite Jaemin’s continued struggles, he still can’t help but admire how effortlessly handsome Jeno is when he smiles.
They walk to Jeno’s apartment in silence after that. The route is now familiar to Jaemin with all the times he’s come and gone. It’s been a long time since he’s thought about the consequences of it though, and he wonderers when that started.
Coffee is picked up on the way. And although Jaemin had so graciously offered to treat Renjun the day before, he doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Jeno. In the end, it’s fine because Jeno does that thing where he reads Jaemin’s mind, rolls his eyes, and buys their drinks anyway. Usually he snaps on a “you owe me” when he does, eyes sharp and gleaming with intent. This time, he just wanders into the cafe and comes back again before Jaemin can even pick a fight.
Their fingertips brush together when Jeno hands him his cup, and Jaemin tries not to think about why it feels warm there despite the ice in his drink. He just puts his lips around his straw in strained silence.
“Hmm? What is this?”
The taste of this coffee is different, certainly not his usual. With the way Jeno usually so meticulously observes him, Jaemin supposes he had just come to expect always getting his exact order or whatever he likes without having to ask or specify. In fact, this might have been the first time Jeno didn’t deliver his exact coffee order to him.
“Mocha cold brew,” Jeno tells him, casually sipping from his own cup. When Jaemin continues to look at him in confusion, he simply offers a shrug. “Espresso machine’s broken so I picked something else. Do you not like it?”
That’s the thing: he does like it. And not the drinking-dirt-to-make-Renjun-happy kind of like. The surprise isn’t in the flavor, per se. It’s more that Lee Jeno continues to somehow just…get him.
“…it’s okay,” he says aloud coolly before walking ahead.
Still, he’d be damned if he had to admit that to his rival’s face.
Jaemin expects work to go well. Because getting completely absorbed in his work and forgetting everything else is what he’s best at, work should have gone well. This was not the case.
At the apartment, he goes back and forth a dozen times to even decide where to set up. With Jeno being the only occupant and plenty of furniture setting the place, there’s copious amounts of space anywhere. In fact, they’ve already worked everywhere before. Problem was that, with the way that they are, they’ve also gotten…distracted just about everywhere before too.
Jaemin eventually settles for placing his laptop on the table in the kitchen, angled in a way that if he crouches, Jeno is blocked from view across from him. Truthfully, when they usually worked from Jeno’s apartment, they typically sat next to each other. Or on top of each other. But Jaemin was trying to keep it as un-date-like as possible for one day, so he was going to have to resist crawling into Jeno’s lap for one evening.
Doable.
…probably?
He opens up his documents and tries to focus on the words instead of how much he misses the feeling of Jeno being inside him and the thrill of bouncing on his lap. Statistical calculations futilely stream through his mind in attempt to flush the memory away. He even rereads Mark’s footnotes for the seventh time while his fingers type utter nonsense on the screen. This isn’t working.
As strict as he was about their deadline, Jaemin can’t bring himself to focus on the work set before him. A bit of annoyance brews up, mostly at himself, but it’s amplified when he looks up from his laptop to see Jeno carrying on peacefully. Unaware, unbothered. It’s as if he doesn’t care at all about the day or what they were doing or potentially could be doing. Does he even know?
When Jeno finally notices that Jaemin is staring at him, he simply tilts his head questioningly. Internally, Jaemin’s still embroiled in mental conflict so he doesn’t say anything in return. Jeno just returns him a shrug.
“I made a revision to number four. It’s highlighted in yellow.”
That’s it.
Forgetting everything, Jaemin abruptly jumps to his feet and shoves his laptop aside. Thoughts of work, research, and everything else bleed out of his mind as he reaches across the table to grab Jeno by the collar and yank him also up to his feet.
Because Jeno is fast to respond, or maybe he’s just used to Jaemin’s impatience, his eyes flicker dark in an instant, sharpening in their edges until they’re cutting with a dangerous glint. He never misses the opportunity to challenge Jaemin back and moves as if activated. This is the competitive devil Lee Jeno that Renjun still doesn’t believe exists.
And this is the Lee Jeno that Jaemin always loses his mind for.
Jaemin drags him across the table by the collar and kisses his damn lips.
This time it’s more heated and urgent, as if Jaemin puts all of his frustration into it. Jeno’s lips meet his in a controlled clash, firm and commanding in retaliation. All the while, his eyes stay open, dark and vigilant, watching Jaemin like a predator. The gaze only makes Jaemin burn hotter, pushing his arms around Jeno’s neck to get closer, forcing himself to lift a knee onto the surface of the table to maintain his balance.
Kissing desperately like this somehow feels like a norm to Jaemin too. It’s the cumulation of their constant push and pull, like the crash of tides in a storm. Jaemin feels it in the sway of their bodies as they collide together, with matching turbulent emotions storming inside. The crushing weight of Jeno’s lips pressing into his, his tongue diving deep into his mouth, makes Jaemin finally give, carried along with the waves.
When they part, Jeno licks his kiss-bruised lips with slow swipes of his tongue. Eyes still narrowed, he smirks in the way that he knows riles Jaemin up.
“Mm, if this is what I get for making revisions, I’ll re-proof the whole thing for you.”
“Shut up,” Jaemin scowls.
Nevertheless, he lets Jeno pepper his face with tiny kisses from forehead to the curve of his cheek down to his neck. With one knee on the table, he’s half-way over already, and when Jeno firmly tugs on his shirt, he clambers the rest of the way easily. When did his resolve get so weak?
Jeno stands between his legs as he sits on the edge of the table, hands resting in a very compromising position at the curve of his hip. And though his pupils have already begun to dilate into dark pools of desire, he waits, cautiously, as if pausing for permission. As much as Jaemin wants to give it to him, he has something else to get off his chest first.
Then, like he reads Jaemin’s mind, Jeno’s long fingertips stray ever so slightly under the hem of Jaemin’s shirt, making him bite his lip.
Okay, he has two things he has to get off his chest. But he’ll deal with his shirt later.
“Do you know what day it is?” he blurts out unceremoniously.
Well, shit. Tact has really not been his strong point these days. Especially not with Jeno.
“It’s Sunday,” Jeno replies easily, as blasé as ever. “You’ve reminded me like fifty times that you want the methods done by Monday.”
“I know it’s Sunday, you ass,” Jaemin curses back at him with a frown. God, he’s already having regrets about bringing this up. “I meant what day it is. The…the date.”
At that, Jeno’s expression changes again into something more contemplative—almost unreadable. It’s a look that makes Jaemin feel uncomfortably seen and assessed, as if Jeno knew exactly what he wanted from him but refused to give it. That annoying ability of his to know what Jaemin’s thinking remains a constant nuisance in his life.
Forever and a day passes, or so it feels, before Jeno finally answers slowly. “Of course I know. It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“So?”
“…so what?”
Jaemin waits, but Jeno doesn’t say anything else after that. Why that actually manages to piss him off is more aggravating than having to bring up the situation at all. Suddenly, he feels ridiculous for stressing about it at all. Clearly he was the only one.
“Nothing,” Jaemin grumbles, shoving Jeno back with an open palm.
To his misfortune, Jeno hardly even budges; just sways back slightly before swinging back into place between Jaemin’s legs. Annoyed, Jaemin makes another attempt to shove him back. He budges even less. How Jeno finds the time to go to the gym to stay as exceptionally fit as he is between all of the work they do is a mystery to Jaemin. A very frustrating, but admittedly sexy, mystery.
“You didn’t want to make a big deal of it, didn’t you?”
When Jeno finally speaks again, it’s soft and quiet. This tone is one that Jaemin isn’t quite used to just yet: gentle without the edges of competition, all sweet without the usual bite. Like this, Jaemin is forced to remember that despite all the words they may say and how they’re stated, the truth still remains unchanged—the truth that Jeno likes him.
“I knew you felt awkward about it,” Jeno continues, voice still subdued. “And I respect how much you wanted to work, so I didn’t say anything.”
He pauses there again to catch Jaemin’s gaze, ensnaring him with a look of unsettling intensity.
“But I would have liked to take you on a date instead.”
The admission is exactly what Jaemin had worried about the day before. The prospect of Jeno misconceiving their work appointment as an actual date had nearly driven him to insanity in the span of less than 24 hours. Yet when the time came, Jaemin found himself being the one who couldn’t stand the prospect of his rival not thinking of their time in that way. Of him in that way. So in this reality when the admission finally comes, Jaemin surges forward hungrily to accept it.
His legs lift up to lock around Jeno’s waist like a vice at the same time his hands reach for the sharp curve of his jaw. He pulls Jeno closer with all of his limbs until they’re flushed so closely, he can almost feel the definition of Jeno’s perfectly sculpted abs against his own through their shirts. The fact that some time has passed since the last time they did anything intimately makes Jaemin heady with want almost immediately.
“We never got to go on one like you wanted,” Jaemin comments when Jeno breaks away from his lips to trace his tongue down the length of his neck. “From the grant competition.”
“And yet you’ve been bossing me around nonstop like you won,” Jeno retorts snidely between shallow nips.
Jaemin smirks. “I suppose it’s only fair to entertain you then.”
He tightens the grip of his legs crossed around Jeno’s slim waist.
“What kind of date were you thinking of?”
“Hmm,” Jeno hums thoughtfully as Jaemin relieves him of his shirt. “Maybe we could have gone somewhere different. Somewhere quiet and pretty where we could be alone.”
“We’re always alone together,” Jaemin snorts, pulling his own shirt over his head and chucking it somewhere in the distance. Tilting his head to the side, he gives Jeno a smug, shit-eating grin. “What makes you think I’d want to be alone with you even more than usual?”
In response, Jeno rolls his eyes and hooks his arms under Jaemin’s legs to hoist him off the table. As he carries him towards the bedroom, he continues to respond dryly.
“How could I forget your propensity for wanting to put on a performance. My bad, I’ll try to come up with a slightly more public plan for you to act up in.”
To punctuate his statement, he drops Jaemin onto the bed at a height just high enough that he bounces back a little without being hurt. Again, Jaemin has half a mind to tell him off for manhandling him, but then Jeno lowers himself down on top of him in one smooth motion and all Jaemin can think of is the sweet caress of their bare chests coming together. Instead, he just sighs and lets Jeno lay kisses across his collarbone.
“And they say romance is dead.”
Jeno huffs out a laugh at that, a warm puff that tickles the sensitive skin of Jaemin’s neck.
Despite the jokes and banter, he knows Jeno really has thought about it to some degree. All the way back to his win condition for the grant competition. He’s thought of it enough to bring it up again here and there afterward, words he always tries to keep casual in the face of their work and relationship—or whatever it is that they’re doing. Knowing that he’s stonewalled another chance at that first date due to his own stubbornness makes Jaemin feel a little guilty.
Pride, however, doesn’t let him apologize. So instead he decides to use a language he knows better: action.
“Let’s make it even then.”
His words make Jeno halt in his actions, slowly pulling his lips away from leaving little bites on Jaemin’s chest. Intrigued, he hums. “Oh? What’s your proposal?”
“I’ll grant you your request.”
“What, the blow job you offered last time?”
“If that’s what you want.”
The answer must have surprised Jeno because his eyes widen a fraction. It’s a minute change that Jaemin had somehow, at some point gotten used to identifying amidst all the times they’ve been together. No matter how subtle Jeno thinks he is or how many times he manages to illicit the response, Jaemin can’t get enough of it.
Grinning, he sits up and presses a kiss onto his rival’s lips. Soft but sound.
“Limited edition Valentine’s Day special. Tell me what you want me to do for you and I’ll do it. Today only.”
Jeno looks him over contemplatively, no doubt weighing dozens of options in his mind all at once. But because he’s Jaemin’s stupidly brilliant rival and his mind works at lightning speed, he comes to a conclusion much faster than expected.
“Do you ever finger yourself?”
He asks with his tongue already tracing his lips in anticipation of the answer, and although Jaemin brought this catastrophe upon himself, he still feels his blood boil unconsciously.
Hotly, he retorts, “Do you?”
“Maybe.”
“What?”
While Jaemin stares in honest shock, Jeno just smirks back at him wickedly. The look in his eyes is goading and Jaemin knows without a doubt his rival knows what kind of thoughts he’s put into his head. It’s hard not to short-circuit at the mental image.
In the time that Jaemin spends processing his new revelation, Jeno gets up and returns with a now familiar bottle. The contents are about half-full, and despite Jaemin being fairly confident nearly all of it was used on him, he can’t help but wonder if any of it had been spared on Jeno himself. He shivers a little at the thought.
“Finger yourself,” Jeno tells him again in a whisper, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to his temple despite the crassness of his words. “Show me how you do it.”
Part of Jaemin wants Jeno to know that this was an ask he wouldn’t do for anyone else—an expression of his feelings that he can’t quite admit yet. But since it’s exactly that, he doesn’t speak a word of it. He just lifts his hands to cradle Jeno’s handsome face to slot their lips together in silent acceptance. For now, he’ll have to keep showing him.
He lets Jeno slide his pants and briefs off for him, closing his eyes to the sensation of those doting lips fluttering over the skin of his thighs as he goes. Once he’s bare, he opens his eyes again to drink in the drunken stupor of desire on Jeno’s face and the obvious strained bulge in his pants. And it’s all the encouragement he needs.
He coats his fingers liberally with lubricant before anything else, taking his time to torture Jeno with the wait. No matter what he promised Jeno, he still has to have the upper hand. So he takes his time demonstrating the slickness of his fingers and flipping himself over onto his knees to raise his ass in Jeno’s direction. There’s a slight burn of humiliation in that position, but the low groan of satisfaction that Jeno lets out at the sight makes it melt away.
Jaemin keeps his cheek flat against the bed as he reaches back to touch himself. A shudder runs through his body as his slickened fingers dance past his exposed and neglected erection. He fights the temptation to touch himself there too, lest the show run short.
When he does this normally, although with significantly less frequency since Jeno started doing it for him, Jaemin doesn’t bother with theatrics. The usual is a few good tugs with one hand while the other plunges right into himself without fanfare. Two at once for precision and maneuverability.
But for Jeno’s eyes, he goes slowly, leisurely tracing circles around his rim as if contemplating. One finger or two? From where his face lies pressed against the mattress, he smirks back eagerly at Jeno’s hazy base expression. As he is, he already looks just as Jaemin loves to see him: messed up.
Eventually, he gets tired of teasing himself and pushes his usual two fingers in past the rim with a shuddered sigh of relief. Though his lids fluttered shut for a moment as he moved, he doesn’t miss the way Jeno’s breath hikes visibly in his chest and his hand drops to free his now fully erect member from his pants. The sight of that makes Jaemin’s own mouth water and his fingers thrust in deeply in search of relief.
He continues fingering himself at a casual pace that Jeno matches with strokes of his own cock. Increases of speed makes Jeno pump faster and slow tortuous thrusts make him growl lowly in anticipation. The thrill of acting like a remote actually makes Jaemin more bold, changing the pace erratically in search of not just the spot that makes him feel best but also the expression from Jeno he likes best.
Impatience, however, is his weakness so he ends up thrusting into himself urgently after not too much longer, unable to handle the torture of his own teasing. He heaves against the fabric of the sheets until his desire to have his mouth filled as well overtakes him.
Jeno looks surprised when Jaemin gets up to spin over to him, and even more surprised when he sinks his mouth hungrily onto his cock. No complaints come out of course; he’s too busy gasping at the sensation. If he’s honest, Jaemin doesn’t really have complaints either. Who would have thought he could get addicted to the feeling of sucking Jeno off while fingering himself?
They stay like that a little longer: Jaemin on his knees, fingers driving into himself repeatedly while sloppily bobbing his head on Jeno’s cock. He feels like he could have gotten himself off that way, without even touching his own erection, but Jeno eventually pushes him back with a labored groan.
“Enough,” he pants before reaching over to plant a firm kiss on Jaemin’s lips. Apparently he had no issue with kissing a mouth that had just been touching his dick. Jaemin gives him props.
“How was that?” Jaemin asks with a smirk once they part. “Better than you can do to yourself?”
To that, Jeno snorts. “What, you want to find out?”
For the second time that evening, Jaemin’s mind hiccups.
“What?”
Without Jeno fully having to explain, Jaemin still gets what he’s insinuating, Frankly, he would have had to have been an absolute idiot to deny thinking about having Jeno in that way before. Because he definitely has. As much as he loves having Jeno inside of him, with their constant struggle for power and battle for dominance, of course he’s thought of it.
Maybe the look on his face makes it obvious, or maybe Jeno just knows him by now. But in the next moment, Jeno is hovering over him with a dangerous smirk full of leering delight.
“You want to fuck me, don’t you?”
Jaemin finally gets how he must have made Jeno feel all those days ago when he said that: deathly parched.
“Shut up,” he growls.
What comes next surprises Jaemin a little; Jeno’s expression loses its edge and he chuckles, closing the distance between them to kiss him again in a way that’s almost tender. He’s infuriatingly good at that while Jaemin lacks the courage to return. Therefore, he simply accepts the moving lips and sweet tongue with as much softness he can muster.
“The other thing I want,” Jeno whispers quietly into Jaemin’s tingling ear, “is to make you feel as good as you always make me feel.”
And then, he’s up again before Jaemin can pin him down in his arms.
His pants get kicked to the side and then he’s kneeling over Jaemin, knees spread on either side of Jaemin’s hips in a high straddle. From how he’s spread above him, Jaemin gets an obscene view of Jeno’s full body. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but the utter perfection that he’s built to still makes Jaemin’s mouth water every time. Not that he would ever say aloud.
“Hmm,” Jeno hums as he looks down at Jaemin between pouring lube on his own fingers. “So you do like what you see after all.”
Like always, Jaemin grits back, “…you’re okay.”
Before, Jaemin had always enjoyed the sight of Jeno fingering him, watching those long digits disappear inside himself over and over. But watching Jeno finger himself is an entirely different sort of drug. He absolutely gets, with full clarity, why Jeno wanted to watch him do it.
A minor bit of discomfort crosses Jeno’s face as he works his fingers into himself, as if he hadn’t done it in a while. Realistically, he probably hasn’t. Jaemin’s kept him company well enough up until they started on Mark’s research together. Still, he stays poised above Jaemin with his legs spread deliciously and gaze trained reverently down on him as he works. With how gorgeously Jeno pants and sinks into himself repeatedly, Jaemin knows he’ll be dreaming about the sight for days to come.
When Jeno finally pulls his slick fingers out from himself, Jaemin almost whimpers at the loss. The show was almost as good as getting fingered himself, if he had to be honest. Fortunately, he doesn’t have that much time to lament, because Jeno leans low over him with a chuckle to kiss him once again.
“Fine,” Jaemin breathes against Jeno’s lips in an irritated tone. “You win one. I did like what I saw.”
“I’m glad, baby,” Jeno coos in response, smirk back on his lips like the smug bastard he is.
Ugh. Now he gets why Jeno gets riled up whenever he says that.
After a moment, the teasing expression melts away, and Jeno’s expression turns more serious. The glittering twinkle of affection in his eyes is too bright for Jaemin to ignore, and he feels his heart flutter weakly. Jeno when he looks like that is beautiful. Undeniably so.
Voice as low as a whisper, he asks, “Do you want me?”
Jaemin does. Badly.
It’s times like this he’s actually grateful for the mindreading thing his rival does to him, because Jeno smiles in understanding without making Jaemin have to say the embarrassing words aloud. Jaemin lets his eyes lock onto Jeno’s face as his slick hands run down the length of his erection, only shuddering slightly at the blazing sensation of finally being touched there. And then, when Jeno guides the tip to his waiting entrance, Jaemin completely forgets to breathe.
He remembers with vivid intensity the way he felt when Jeno entered him for the first time: overwhelmed with both pleasure and emotion, starving for more as if he could never get enough. Looking up at the bliss-bloomed expression Jeno has dawned on his face as he slowly sinks down, Jaemin wonders if he feels the same.
When he seats himself down to the hilt, Jeno lets out a long sigh of contentment. Jaemin had just barely managed to start breathing until Jeno rakes a hand through his dark hair devastatingly—and he promptly forgets how again.
The way he feels being sheathed inside Jeno is indescribable. It’s better than any award or achievement he could receive or discoveries he could unearth; it feels like perfection.
Jeno grinds on him in smooth rocking motions, back and forth and back again. The friction is almost enough to make Jaemin cry aloud in debauched desire. Biting his lip to stay quiet is his only recourse.
“You like that?” Jeno asks from his poised position above, his lips quirked up in the corner. Jaemin hates the way he manages to look so together even at a time like this, when Jaemin himself is struggling to keep himself from coming undone.
Without waiting for the answer, Jeno smiles sweetly down at him, unbridled adoration radiating off him in waves. “You look incredible from here.”
Whether from the weakness he feels in pleasure or from the sight of Jeno’s smile, Jaemin feels his resolve crumble a little. Affection seeps into his being like a sponge in water, filling his heart with the wild sensation of butterflies. But since he still can’t bring himself to speak, let alone admit those things, he just takes hold of Jeno’s hips and grinds up into him carefully.
Jeno moans a little at the shift, rolling his head around against his shoulders like a shudder. His body tightens hard against every motion Jaemin slowly adds, almost glistening between every defined line. Jaemin always appreciates the look of Jeno’s perfect body above him whenever he’s the one being fucked, but this gives him a whole new perspective that he knows will stay burned in his memory.
It’s not long before they both grow impatient with the slow pace. Jaemin puts more strength into his grinding as Jeno bounces a little; they meet in the middle in a clash that makes Jaemin see stars in explosion at every push. And just when he thinks he can’t feel any better, Jeno arches back to meet him on a particularly hard thrust at the same time his long fingers slip between Jaemin’s legs and into him.
“J-Jeno,” he can’t help but gasp in surprise, hand coming to desperately clutch the hard muscle of his rival’s thigh. Frustratingly, his actions seem to amuse Jeno more than anything else. He rolls his hips again with another coupled thrust of his fingers like a taunt.
The shock from being consumed from both sides nearly shoots Jaemin off to nirvana on the spot. He manages to bite down on his lip hard enough to keep himself from caving, but he knows he won’t last much longer anyway. Jeno sees it too, if the satisfied look on his face is enough indication. Unable to bear it, he surrenders his control and loses himself to the sensation.
He considers it a feat to continue as long as he does after that, at the mercy of Jeno’s skillful ministrations, riding tirelessly while leaning back to fuck his fingers into Jaemin in rhythm. When he knows he’s at his limit, he grips Jeno’s thigh again in silent warning, a desperate attempt to communicate. Jeno knows him, as always, and grins in the understanding way he always does.
“You can cum inside me,” he says, devlish tongue poking out.
And Jaemin does almost immediately. Euphoria flows out of him in waves, rolling his body in shudders, filling Jeno up to the brim. Above him, Jeno’s head is tilted back as he simply feels it all run through him, looking skyward even though he’s the one who looks like the embodiment of heaven. Looking at Jeno like that, still hard with desire yet full of bliss just from taking all of him, Jaemin feels like it’s not enough.
“Cum in me too,” he whispers, finding Jeno’s hand to twine their fingers together.
Surprised, Jeno tilts his head back down at the words, looking over Jaemin with eyes as dark as space. He’s gorgeous like that, Jaemin thinks privately to himself.
“Are you sure?”
He’s positive. This time, he’s able to admit out loud: “I want you.”
Despite his confidence, Jaemin still feels jolts of oversensitivity when Jeno carefully pulls off of him and parts his legs to settle between. Still, he wants to be filled again so badly, he reaches up with his arms to beckon Jeno to him.
Jeno reads his mind and sinks down into him and into his embrace.
“Hurry,” Jaemin nearly chokes into Jeno’s ear when he fills him completely. The feeling is so much already, he can hardly breathe. “Go fast.”
Jeno presses a long soothing kiss to his temple to comfort him before doing as he’s asked.
Shoving his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out is all Jaemin can manage when Jeno finally moves, pounding at a pace that nearly makes his soul ascend. It’s delicious and familiar in a way that’s comforting, but it also gets to be so much so quickly that he starts clawing at Jeno’s back in bittersweet ecstasy. He stays clinging helplessly like that through all of Jeno’s desperate but precise thrusts, holding him close to imprint Jeno’s shape on his body. If paradise exists, Jaemin sees it when Jeno finally finishes inside of him, nuzzling his forehead against him in silent worship.
Their hands stay locked together even after Jeno pulls out to lay beside him. For once, Jaemin lets it happen and weakly squeezes those fingers back. Apparently, just that little action sends enough energy back through to Jeno to make him laugh brilliantly and roll onto his side to kiss Jaemin breathless again.
“We did it again,” Jaemin sighs as Jeno pulls him close into his arms.
Clean up took double the time with Jaemin being even less useful than usual and Jeno having to clean up himself as well. When they finally got back into bed together under the sheets, Jaemin’s consciousness was barely hanging on by a thread.
Unfazed, Jeno states nonchalantly, “Yeah, we did.”
“No, not that in general, you ass.” Regardless of his harsh words, Jaemin lets Jeno hold him tight. “We did the sex and food not-date thing again. There wasn’t even food this time.”
“I got you coffee,” Jeno offers. “Valentine’s Day chocolate.”
Incredulous, Jaemin lifts his eyes to stare, though it’s hard when they’re already smashed together. “That’s why you chose mocha? Was the espresso machine really even broken?”
“You wouldn’t have let me get you chocolate otherwise. Besides, I thought you didn’t want this to be a date?”
“Didn’t you want it to be?”
“Mmm,” Jeno hums gently into Jaemin’s hair. “I did.”
Truth and genuine sincerity bleed through his easy words without a hint of shame or regret. The way he manages it so easily is something Jaemin still marvels at. Admitting desires, emotions, and affections over the hurdle of pride seems like a lofty goal in light of everything they’ve been through. Yet Jeno manages it almost effortlessly in a way that’s somewhat enviable.
Donghyuck may be Jeno’s best friend, but he’s wrong about Jeno not being good at showing affection. His actions and subtle words are everything. And with Jaemin, in this moment, he’s never been more obvious.
“Then I guess,” Jaemin begins slowly, as his eyes start to drift closed, “by the limited edition Valentine’s Day special rules, it is.”
“You’re allowing it?”
Jeno’s whisper tickles Jaemin’s ear as he breathes it. And despite being in the dark with his eyes closed and drawn up to Jeno’s chest, Jaemin can feel the way his lips are curved up in a smile. Probably a bright one to match the quickened beating of his heart. Radiant. Affectionate.
“Limited edition rules,” Jaemin reminds again. “Tomorrow it’s back to business. You’ll still owe me the revised methods. I’ll bend the deadline a little but it’s back to regular lab hours.”
“Hey. I lasted longer than you this time, didn’t I?”
“Oh my god. Seriously, shut up.”
Chuckling, Jeno kisses his forehead.
“Sure thing, rival.”