Chapter Text
Head thrown back, eyes closed, his fingers fly along the neck of his guitar, pressing the strings following the improvised melody his friend sang to the cheers of the crowd, listening to their bandmates doing the same and working perfectly like a well-oiled machine. Jeno was buzzing with excitement and adrenaline, completely in the zone.
When he blinks his eyes open, the notes fading out as their last song is finished. He looks over the arena, at the people with their hands up in the air and grins on their faces. Jeno breaks into a smile of his own, taking a moment to glance at his friends and bandmates.
Donghyuck with his bright cherry red hair and glowing tan skin, his pretty black graphic t-shirt sticking to his body, skips to the centre of the stage again, red microphone up in his right hand before he moves it to his mouth to thank everyone for coming to the event.
He's their vocalist. His sweet and unique voice lures people in like a siren, and his outgoing and energetic personality makes him the perfect guy to lead their shows and get the crowd singing along. With light feet he reaches Mark, who rolls his eyes but can't hold back a smile, Donghyuck throws an arm around his shoulders and leans back as if about to drop to the floor but Mark has no trouble staying firmly in place. "Give it up to Mark on the bass!"
While still hanging off Mark, Donghyuck points to Chenle on the keyboard, making a comment about the rainbow streaks in his black hair that makes Mark laugh. Then he lets go of the Mark and motions to Yangyang on the drums who by some miracle has made it through the entire show without taking his muscle tee off.
Jeno meets his friend's twinkling eyes and lets his fingers continue to press on the strings on the extended melody of their last song, and when Donghyuck calls his name the cheers become louder, something that's usual for him by now, and he smirks as he did the first time and soaks up the feeling of being not only admired, but desired.
He deserves it, they all do. They didn't reach these heights by a chance of pure luck, they've cried and bled for this, worked until sleep became a stranger and at times even an enemy.
"Hypotheticals signing off!" Donghyuck waves once he's back in his spot, the elevator underneath them taking them off stage for the staff to welcome them from yet another good show done.
A couple of years ago, the mere idea of having staff working for them sounded like an impossible dream to reach, yet here they are now. Their band was the ending show for the biggest university festival in their country, ending a week of performing across the country at many other big events.
They are not like other manufactured bands, they write and compose their music. Jeno's pen has bled all over numerous notebooks that now hang as albums on the walls of the record label that found them at a university fundraiser, only slightly popular amongst their local area, and signed them. They're the reason the company went from a three-room building in the middle of a rundown street to an 8-floor edifice in Gangnam district.
And as if the success of his band wasn't enough, Jeno has been favoured by the masses of their following, becoming without a doubt the most popular member. He takes pride in it.
He has individual gigs and has been invited to radio shows and has his face plastered all over different magazine covers by now. He was even offered an acting contract, but he's since then turned it down. His priority is his band, acting would do nothing to promote them.
He has it all. Everything he's ever wished for since the first time he picked up a guitar as a child when his best friend begged him to join his guitar lessons. He possesses everything he needs, anything he could want and his future shines so bright.
The room is dimly lit, just by the TV where a movie plays. The voices of the actors sometimes work to capture his mind, helping to stray it from his thoughts. But at the moment they were failing.
He rolls onto his back, lies across his couch and stares up at the ceiling. It’s been a few days of him only having the sights of his walls, floor and ceiling, all blank and void of any feeling. Something he finds solace in for reasons he cannot explain.
It's as if he was comforted by his surroundings being as void as him.
The realisation that it’s true, he has holed himself in his apartment for weeks now, prepares him for when he hears a chime come from his front door before it's unlocked. A familiar voice grumbles under their breath, and then there's steps walking deeper into his place.
“Na Jaemin, open the fucking curtains.” The man groans, and Jaemin closes his eyes in response, knowing what the other would do. He hears another grumble, the steps making a path from the entrance and past him, always keeping a distance from him.
He doesn’t catch the sound of the blinds being pulled open but the sudden light behind his eyelids makes them twitch open, keeping his gaze on the ceiling for just a moment longer before he rolls onto his side to face the TV again. “It’s a mess in here! When was the last time you picked up after yourself?”
“Hmph.” Jaemin’s eyes track the empty cups on the coffee table and how the orange light that signals sundown shines through them, further blurring his sight of them. He hasn’t counted how many cups he has used and left there, he's pretty sure there’s one or two that are clean inside his cupboards, so he's not rushing to wash his dishes yet.
“Stand up and take a shower, you clearly need one. We have an appointment today.”
“An appointment?” Jaemin is startled into sitting up, the sudden movement causing the other man to flinch. Renjun stands by the window, hands on his hips. He chews on his lower lip but nods, not offering a single word more even when Jaemin stares at him, silently demanding he elaborate.
Renjun rolls his eyes and sighs, a deep and dramatic one, wanting to further shove in Jaemin’s face how he is tired of him and if Jaemin cared at least a little bit he would bother feeling offended. “Yes, an appointment, our team leader wants you to come to a meeting and it’s really important so no, it’s not an option. You’re coming with me.”
Jaemin leans back, a hand moving up to brush his black hair back, mulling over the blatant order. It’s been an admittedly long time since he even stepped in that building and much less one of their meeting rooms.
But who can blame him for the way he feels after how he was treated by the very same people who were supposed to take care of him…
“Now stand up and go take that shower! I’ll order something for you to eat on the way there.” Renjun waves him in the general direction of his bathroom, not waiting around for Jaemin’s answer before he sits down on the sofa chair by the window and slips his phone out of his pocket.
Well, Jaemin wouldn’t get anything from ignoring Renjun. Besides, his interest has been piqued by the abrupt call from his label.
“I want you to behave, Na Jaemin. Don’t ask any questions until they’re done explaining, ok? And if possible don’t ask questions at all.” Renjun glares, standing by the door leading to the meeting room booked by his team leader.
Jaemin nods but shrugs his shoulders, making Renjun glare fiery before he gives up and curses under his breath. It's a habit that Jaemin has always been surprised the older has never been scolded for by a higher-up.
Maybe because he’s not around them long enough for them to find out.
Renjun pushes the door open and motions for Jaemin to enter. He recognizes the man who quickly stands up at the head of the table. It's Jung Jaehyun, the man in charge of Jaemin’s career.
“Jaemin! You’re just on time.” Jaehyun greets him, a gentle dimpled smile on his face. He's always been more of a concept than a real man to Jaemin, so being treated this warmly gives him an unnerving feeling. He finds that the fruits of all the training he was put through when he first joined the company come in handy, being able to put on an equally amiable smile. More of a mask. “Come in, the others should be arriving shortly.”
The others?
Jaemin remembers Renjun's words and doesn’t question the older, simply doing as asked and walks into the room. He takes a seat away from Jaehyun and leaves Renjun to take the one in between them.
That's not to say he doesn't have questions. They circle inside his head as he glances around the room. He can see the projector is set up, connected to what must be Jaehyun’s laptop right by it. There's another staff member he doesn't recognize. A lanky young man with an iPad folded protectively into his chest, keeping his gaze on the big table.
Is Jaemin going to finally get laid off?
He wouldn’t be surprised if that's what this meeting was about. But it wouldn’t make sense that Renjun wanted him to tidy up for it, if anything the Chinese man wouldn’t care if Jaemin signed his resignation letter looking like a slob.
“How have you been doing, Jaemin?” Jaehyun asks, his voice is polite and low. If it weren't for Jaehyun looking directly at him, Jaemin would think he was simply being cordial. But the man has his attention on him.
Still, thinking he actually cares is … difficult.
Renjun shifts on his seat and coughs into his hand when Jaemin stays silent a few seconds too long. Jaemin sends Jaehyun yet another smile, letting out a small awkward chuckle. “I’ve been doing fine sir, thank you.”
“That’s great to hear,” Jaehyun nods and hums. “I haven’t seen any records of you booking a recording studio, do you have all you need back home?”
His fingers twitch, his smile barely stays in place, and his mask almost cracks. “I have enough,” is the answer he settles with, looking away from him before Jaehyun can question him further.
It didn’t seem mocking, and yet Jaemin can’t help feeling like the question was backhanded. He has to remind himself that Jaehyun was not one of them and probably doesn’t know what he's just poked at. It's just hard not to.
Thankfully someone knocks on the door, gently waiting for Jaehyun’s permission to open it. A handsome man peeks in, sleek black hair parted into a perfectly neat style, wearing a grey suit and a tablet held in his other hand. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Not at all, Kim-ssi. Please, come in. I’ve ordered coffee and tea for everyone so take a seat.” Jaehyun stands up, Jaemin and Renjun quick to follow just as the nameless staff by Jaehyun’s other side.
“Thank you,” Kim bows and then looks behind him. “Come in boys.”
Jaemin quirks an eyebrow, struggling to hide his surprise at the sudden revelation of what he was thinking would be his last meeting. He expected someone from HR to show up but he doesn’t recognize Kim and he has no idea who the ‘boys’ could be.
The first boy- no, man, to walk in has his hair dyed, it's red and fluffy. There are sunglasses hanging from the neckline of his white t-shirt, and his navy blue jean jacket matches his pants. He’s beautiful, with gold on his ears and freckles across his nose and cheeks.
Jaemin recognizes him within a second but his brain is slow to catch up.
It’s when the second man walks in that he’s forced to admit reality.
Dark blue hair, with the sides buzzed, pale skin, sharp cheekbones and a big nose. His eyes are as dark as the ink lines crawling from underneath his black shirt and up the sides of his neck, a silver ring on his right eyebrow.
Jaemin zones out the rest of the men walking in. He zones out the pleasantries as everyone takes a seat and a random secretary brings them their drinks, the polite and practised words Kim and Jaehyun exchange.
His gaze is focused on a spot on the wall behind one of the men, the one with rainbow streaks in his black hair, pretending he is paying attention until Renjun kicks him underneath the table.
“-I know this will be a first for you but rest assured we will work very hard to provide you good results on our end,” Jaehyun’s deep voice booms in Jaemin’s head. “We of course want you to feel comfortable sharing whatever ideas you have with us; I know how important creative freedom is for everyone at this table.”
A chuckle.
Jaemin’s chest tightens, his blood running cold inside his veins but he follows the sound with his eyes regardless, finding the redhead by Kim’s side on the other end of the table.
Kim glares at the guy and ignores the formality of the setting to push his head to the side with a finger. “Yah Lee Donghyuck-“
“Sorry, Doyoung. But you didn’t mention anything about working with an idol. This is a lot for us to take in.” Donghyuck, better known as Haechan, says with a shrug, uncaring of how Jaehyun’s gaze hardens and his shoulders stiffen.
An idol.
Jaemin, is an idol.
He knows rock stars like these men sitting around the table must think of him as a joke, find it funny at most that he is supposedly sitting with them and that their higher-ups want them to collaborate.
“Our Jaemin happens to have experience in writing and producing music, Donghyuck-ssi, so you don't have to worry about that,” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth, surprising not only Jaemin but almost everyone else at the table.
His feelings about Jaehyun’s defence are complicated, bubbling and brewing inside him to where he's left confused. He feels happy at being acknowledged but at the same time, after what happened, he feels angry Jaehyun dares to make mention of it.
“Well, he's not known for that. Can you blame us for being wary?”
That voice, deadpan yet soft, makes everything else go quiet in Jaemin’s head, he can’t even hear his own heartbeat and he wouldn’t be surprised if it's finally stopped.
After all, when was the last time he heard Lee Jeno’s voice in the same room as him?
“We do not work with just anybody,” Jeno continues, not condescending in the manner that Donghyuck was but still nonchalant in ways that make Jaemin dig his nails into his palms. “And if he doesn’t cut it for us he will be a stain in our discography-"
“I won’t be.”
Renjun snaps his head towards him, eyes wide, his hand flying underneath the table to squeeze on his thigh, demanding he stays quiet but Jaemin refuses to.
He meets Jeno’s gaze head-on and reels in the turmoil inside of him as something else surfaces.
It's dirty and broken, neglected and fragile in a way he's never going to admit, but he rushes to pick himself up and piece it all back together. His pride’s been cracked and stomped on countless times until he thought it was gone. But now he cradles it between his hands, he'll fight tooth and nail to protect it.
“You all need to change it up anyways or people will get bored of the same sound.” Jaemin grins, fake but sharp. Donghyuck and Chenle beside him suck in their breath through their teeth and the redhead even pushes his chair back, but Doyoung is quick to grab his wrist. “Let’s get along, shall we?”
Jeno smiles back. Even more fake than Jaemin with his zero practice of it, his heart on his sleeve.
As it had always been.
“What was that?!” Renjun demands the moment they’re alone in the elevator. “I told you to stay quiet-“
“And let those assholes continue talking trash about me? Yeah, right.” Jaemin huffs, rolling his eyes when Renjun throws his head back in frustration. “You didn’t tell me they wanted a collaboration.”
Renjun may be his manager but that has never been easy on either of them. “Of course, I didn’t. Especially this one. You’ve been held up in your apartment for over a year refusing to even touch your guitar-“
“Yeah, I know but still, a heads up would've been nice.” Jaemin cuts in, not wanting to hear Renjun mention the darkness Jaemin has been wrapped up in.
“I didn’t think you would clash so much with them… Didn’t you use to play in a rock band before you got scouted? I mean, I do recall you’re from the same high school as one of them. But come on, why would anyone have so much animosity towards a schoolmate?”
Jaemin lets out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head to himself, wishing Renjun was right and that was all the history between him and Lee Jeno.
But that’s not it at all.
Not even the beginning of it.
“Wait, you guys went to the same school?” Yangyang springs in his seat, leaning forward to shove his phone at Jeno’s face, the older pushing the device away. Mark grabs it instead and reads off of the screen.
Most probably a random site with Na Jaemin’s profile on it.
“Damn, did you two fight or something?” Mark wonders, returning the phone to it's owner. “No wonder he looks at you like you’re vermin. What did you two fight about?”
“There was no fight,” Jeno says with a shrug, absently scrolling on his phone, careful not to tap twice on a post. “I’m with Hyuck on this, working with an idol may be a fuck up.”
“Haechan liked his debut though, I’ve seen the songs in his liked playlist,” Chenle speaks up from the front beside their manager Doyoung. Donghyuck curses from behind Jeno and threatens to leak Chenle’s baby pictures.
“I’ve heard them too and they’re good.”
Jeno zones out the rest of the conversation, refusing to answer any more of their questions. Thankfully, they don’t push him further. It’s not that Jeno is uncomfortable. He just thinks it’s pointless.
It’s true, songs from Jaemin’s debut mini-album were good.
His voice was smooth and sweet, the emotional delivery of the verses and the soothing melodies made the listener feel wrapped up in Jaemin’s songs. They were emotions that were carried into your heart.
It was a successful debut after all.
That's how Na Jaemin became popular, scoring even a couple of appearances on TV shows and interviews in magazine shoots.
He garnered attention and a loyal following.
Jeno had been a figure behind the scenes of it, someone Jaemin called on his phone late into the night, the first person he texted to share the good news with until slowly, those calls and messages decreased significantly.
Until he stopped.
And Jeno took his leave from Na Jaemin’s life.
Jaemin's not given long to process what his agency dropped on him. Two days after their meeting Renjun shows up at his apartment again – this time having the decency to call him the day before – and drives him to their company.
He’s not surprised they're working at his company’s building. Though Hypothetical’s label, AZURA, is by no means a small label anymore after hitting gold with them. Jaemin is signed under SHINWOO, one of the big three entertainment companies in their country.
Yet, when he walks into the recording studio he doesn’t recognize any of the staff. Other than Jaemin and his manager, everyone else is from AZURA. The whole band is present with their manager and two other men. One stupidly tall man leaning against a wall and another with vibrant pink hair and a colourful bomber jacket swallowing his frame sitting beside Jeno. The two by the director’s panels looked perfectly at peace, like they belong there.
“It’s good to see you again, I apologise for how soon all this is after we met the other day, but the sooner we can make these decisions the better it'll be for everyone.” Their manager, Kim Doyoung, is the one to greet him first, his smile perfectly amicable. But Jaemin has a way with being able to tell when a smile was fake.
The pink-haired man looks him up and down before he smiles. “Hello! Na Jaemin." He says cheerily, "I’m Lee Taeyong, and this is Johnny Suh,” he points his thumb in the direction of the tall stranger. “We are part of Hypothetical’s producing team. Not that we intervene too much but we still thought it would be better for us to be here too.”
“Of course, thank you for coming.” Renjun is the one to answer Taeyong, quick to introduce himself while poking Jaemin’s back to signal him to properly enter the room.
Unfortunately, that means he has to take a seat if he doesn’t want to stand around like an awkward teenager – or Johnny. He takes a glance at the band members taking their seats after standing to greet him briefly.
Once he notices that Doyoung is sitting by Donghyuck’s side, betting it will be their manager who makes the call to grant him his spot, he walks up to gesture between Mark and Yangyang instead, dreading too much the idea of sitting beside their vocalist after how the other mocked him last time.
He truly doesn’t want to make his experience worse than it already is.
“We have a few demos we are considering,” Taeyong starts, wasting no more time in small talk. “Feel free to give your input, they’re still demos after all!” He grins and then turns to the computer screen, the clicks of the mouse loud in the otherwise silent room as he goes through a few folders before finding the file he's looking for.
Jaemin stays quiet as Taeyong plays the options they have so far, closing his eyes and leaning comfortably against the couch.
He can feel how Yangyang’s leg moves, tapping on the floor alongside some of the tempos, no doubt a habit he's not even aware of. Jaemin’s fingers stay still against his arms, crossed over his chest. Once the last demo ends, a few seconds of silence stretch over them before Jaemin blinks his eyes open.
The songs were good. Of course, they were. Hypotheticals wouldn’t be this successful with lousy music. Even their demos were of quality standard. They had to be if they were going to play them for someone else.
Haechan’s sweet voice sounded almost angelic, a magical contrast with the bass, going smoothly with the keyboard, skipping alongside the drums while the guitar effortlessly carries his voice to the song's end.
The songs were so blatantly Hypothetical that Jaemin couldn't hide his distaste for them.
“What exactly am I supposed to do with those songs?”
Doyoung chokes on the coffee he's been drinking. Mark freezes beside him and Taeyong’s eyes widen comically. “Uh?" Yangyang chuckles awkwardly, "What do you mean?" He continues, sounding more confused than anything. Jaemin doesn’t spare him a glance.
Instead, he stares directly at Jeno who tilts his head to the side. “Well, you’re supposed to sing, I think?” Jeno drawls, looking away from him with disinterest and turning his chair around to go back to a specific track. “I’m sure you can have Hyuck’s verse, the range should be doable for you.”
‘Wake up, Na Jaemin, you’re not a singer.’
‘Just stand on stage, follow the dance taught to you and smile at the camera.’
‘We don’t want your voice cracking again so just mouth along the lyrics, ok? Don’t worry your pretty head.’
‘You’re an idol, not a singer.’
“I’m not singing someone’s scraps.” Jaemin spits out, too much of his real emotions seeping into his voice, lips curling into something more of a snarl than a smile. “And those songs sound like a bonus song from one of your albums. This is a collaboration, I'm not some feature in something like that.”
Renjun jumps from his chair near the door, calling Jaemin’s name in a clear reprimand, desperate to stop Jaemin’s temper and salvage the situation. Renjun is ignored when Donghyuck starts laughing, that same mocking laugh from the meeting.
Jaemin leans forward, snapping his head towards the redhead, meeting his gaze head-on. Both men openly glare at each other, curses on the tip of their tongues. It's Jeno’s chuckle that breaks their focus.
It’s not like anything Jaemin remembers from their youth. Though it sounds light, the innocence of it is lost. It pumps venom into Jaemin’s veins, burning him with what he can only describe as shame even before Jeno opens his mouth and his words cut deep into Jaemin’s cracked pride.
Jeno turns around in his seat again and throws one leg over the other, propping an elbow on the armrest to place his chin in the palm of his hand. A smirk crawls onto his face.
“Excuse me, Na Jaemin, I think you've failed to catch up with the situation, yeah?” He asks with an overly sweet voice, condescendingly clicking his tongue and chuckling again. “You have the least credibility as a songwriter or producer in this room. This collaboration is to help your career, not ours. So it would be best if you could nod your head and thank us for the work we're doing here.”
Jaemin barely catches movement in the corner of his eyes as the other men shift in place, maybe wanting to step in and put out the fire that Jeno is so blatantly starting.
Or maybe to side with him.
Not that Jaemin cares about what any of them think.
“I don't need your charity.” Jaemin’s voice somehow stays calm this time, not betraying any of the feelings pulling on his heartstrings and brewing in his core. “You have yet to reach the top 25 in any of the charts, and there’s so many of them so it would do you good to get off your high horse, Lee-nim.”
Jeno’s gaze is ice cold, his smirk stays perfectly in place. Not at all fazed by Jaemin’s words. He can hear the annoying, grating voice of Donghyuck going off about something or the other but Jaemin’s brain filters it out, just as it does with what sounds like apologies from Taeyong and Renjun in his steed.
He can’t handle staying in the room surrounded by these people any longer though, so he stands up and leaves, breathing a little easier the moment he steps out and especially clearer when Renjun doesn’t follow after.
Jaemin will show them all.
Jaemin’s career is stuck.
He is perfectly aware of it; he would never bother denying it. His passion for music was snuffed out by the people who were supposed to help him nurture it, punished for their own mistakes. In the end, he’s the one facing the repercussions of the liberties they took for his career without input. It's his face and very name getting criticised by countless people, dragged through the mud and destroyed until there was barely anything left of it. Of himself left.
His debut was successful. Not everyone is lucky enough to say the same but Jaemin is confident in that. His sales by the end of the month of his debut had multiplied over and over the sales of release day.
SHINWOO indeed is one of the major entertainment companies in the country, the whole continent even. It was easy enough for him to garner attention from the get-go. Jaemin knows he's good-looking, he always has been. His reveal and teaser pictures alone made headlines.
A pretty face doesn’t keep the attention if there’s nothing else though.
Jaemin had been part of most of the production of his debut. He wrote the lyrics and composed melodies, He sat with the producers and sound engineers. He was barely 17, but the people around him gave him a voice in it all.
His songs had his heart and soul in them, and it did the trick to gain the attention of loyal fans. He was praised for his talent. Not only musically, but acting without anyone else by his side, he had to power through his music videos a professional actress afterall.
They didn't wait long to release his second act. Within a few months, he was back on stage with a single that was loved the same. It took a lot more preparation, but before the year had passed since his debut, Jaemin was releasing another mini-album.
He just wasn't as involved in it.
His fans had noticed, because don't they always? It wasn't enough for an uproar. But it showed in the way his songs didn’t rank as high, how he didn’t receive a single award even when he was still suspiciously getting nominated in all the shows he attended. Jaemin spent countless hours in the studio and practice room, working hard to not disappoint the people looking after him.
But those same people tore and dug their claws into him.
A sudden change of genre. Harder choreography. Melodies that left his throat sore for days after recording. Bruised knees and arms. A neverending ache in his back. An empty stomach. His guitar was left covered in a layer of dust and his songbooks were thrown away.
The Na Jaemin from his debut days was gone.
The one performing was not him. It was not his real voice singing about those foreign emotions. It wasn't his smile.
He became a puppet.
Though his fans continued to support him, they didn't stop discussing his vast changes in their inner circles. They were confused with the path he was taking, but they were too invested in him by then to completely turn their backs away from him.
And so it continued.
It wasn't until five years had passed after his debut, that his latest mini album failed his companies’ expectations and he was unofficially discarded.
It’s been over a year since then – 16 months to be exact – and it was clear to him what the higher-ups wanted to do.
This was his last chance.
He doubts anyone higher than Jaehyun had made the call – this desperate attempt to rekindle his fame. But now he had a promising collab in his hands.
Hypotheticals’ music is similar to when Jaemin debuted and they’re honestly one of, if not the biggest rock band in the nation. They’re soon to go on tour and they wouldn’t stay to promote with him for long, but it would be enough to set people’s eyes on Jaemin again.
Not that it's going to happen if Jaemin ends up with Haechan's scraps.
Jaemin's not delusional either. He knows he can't take lines meant for the vocalist and deliver it as well as he would. It's something the producers made sure to stitch into his brain when they first started changing Jaemin’s music, demanding him to reach notes he couldn't, at least not with the training he had so far back then.
He knows himself best. He knows what he should be doing with his voice and how to capture people’s attention when he works properly.
Sitting in front of his computer back home, he stares at the screen, the cursor moving over a single file he doesn’t need to open to remember.
Jaemin knows himself best.
And he knows what it is that people like from him too.
It's good Renjun never logged him out of his official accounts.
“Come on, let's get back to bed.” Jeno chuckles, craning his neck to the side allowing the man to mouth his way up to his neck, playfully catching his earring with his teeth but careful to not pull.
The hands sneaking underneath his sweats are not as careful though.
“I already told you, baby, I have to go to the studio today.” His reminder falls on deaf ears and he doesn’t sound all that sure to his own ears. The callused fingers wrapping around him, warm and skilful, do a good job at making the idea of letting his friends wait for him not sound so bad.
He's made them wait before, just as they’ve shown up late too and there’s never any hard feelings.
“Hm, you’re close to convincing me.” Jeno hums, the younger man leaning back to give him a perfectly faked coy expression. “You need to try just a little harder.”
“Alright, I’m sure I can show you why it would be more fun to stay with me.” He whispers, falling to his knees without pretence, his hands coming out of Jeno’s clothes just to hook his fingers on the drawstring of his sweats.
But he only manages to tug on them down enough to reveal the inked words on his left pelvic bone before they hear the chime of his front door being unlocked. With a pout, he turns to the entrance, Jeno doing the same and watching his manager enter his place.
Doyoung is not at all phased by the sight before him, too used to it by now. He just sends a greeting to Jeno’s lover before pointing a finger at Jeno. “You. Have you been online at all today?” He asks the pouting man leaving Jeno's bedroom to put on the rest of his clothes. “Also, didn’t you break up with Junseo last month? Why is he back here again?”
Jeno quirks an eyebrow at that, unable to fight back a smile. “Broke up? Doyoung, that entails we were together to being with.” Junseo is a pretty man, with pretty lips and a beautiful long body. His voice is also very easy on his ears, be it speaking or moaning his name. At most Jeno could consider him a friend. But a boyfriend?
He's dated before, of course. He needs to get inspiration for his music somewhere. But an actual committed relationship? He has more than enough fingers on one hand to count them.
Not that he misses having a boyfriend or girlfriend. He's happy enough with his… partners. Jeno even openly dedicated one of their more mature songs to one of them. The model posting it to her Instagram story further pushing the rumours around them was entertaining for both of them.
Doyoung tsks, nagging him to stay up to date with testing after his hook-ups if he wants to keep his ‘shenanigans’ up. “What did I miss for you to come and see me directly?” Jeno knows Doyoung is here to pick him up too, but his curiosity has been piqued.
“Get on Twitter.”
Always one for dramatics.
With a roll of his eyes, Jeno places a hand out to his manager to receive his phone, his own being forgotten in his bedroom from which Junseo walks out of, making his way out of the apartment with a ‘thank you for a good time' and a teasing wink.
Jeno only has to check the trending tab for him to figure out what Doyoung is stressing about.
4 #NA_JAEMIN_IS_BACK
His thumb hovers over it, his mind blank and so very silent for the longest moment before he hums, curious, and taps on it. It doesn’t take even a single scroll to know what's going on.
Jeno chuckles, handing Doyoung back his phone, his laughter gaining volume as he continues. Doyoung looks at him quizzically, weirded out by Jeno’s reaction before his gaze hardens into something suspicious. “Are you honestly happy about this?”
His laugh is cut short, eyes widening and a hand going to his chest. “Wait, you’re blaming me for this?” He feels just slightly offended by Doyoung’s accusation. He was not being the manipulative bitch; how could he have known Na Jaemin would react like this to Jeno’s words?
He doesn’t know him anymore.
“After how you taunted him yesterday, I thought you would be smart enough to identify your role in this.” Doyoung shrugs, as if disappointed that Jeno didn't follow his train of thought. “Well, not that this is something bad. He went and proved he won’t ‘stain’ your discography if he’s still this popular.”
Jeno shakes his head and takes in a deep breath, placing his hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “This isn’t about popularity; we haven't even seen if he’ll survive with us.”
His band may swallow Jaemin whole, and he has no intentions of holding them back.
Jaemin is not able to sleep a wink after he sends the post.
He had felt so relieved when he did, leaving his phone by his desk to go take a long bath after emptying his mind and ignoring the world around him. The couple of beers he took to the bathroom helped a little too.
A weight had been lifted off his chest, and all it took was uploading a single song from the many he'd collected after they were rejected by his company. He used to be proud of his work, so sharing it with the world again was a difficult feeling to explain.
The reality caught up to him once he was back in his bedroom though.
He couldn’t stop himself from picking up his phone and going online.
There were already thousands of likes and replies, spammed with a couple of hashtags as his fans welcomed him back, trying to get him to trend. Which they did. Jaemin spent hours and hours reading people’s comments on his song, the good and the bad, clinging to every single word.
His fans were still there, and they were so happy to hear from him again.
The song was reminiscent of the ones from his debut album, but a little more raw because there weren’t any filters to go through except his own. A soft melodic acoustic guitar strum set a tender mood as he smoothly started talking, a hushed whisper that becomes firmer as the bassline joins, the drumbeat carrying the rhythm he purposely kept close to a heartbeat as his voice became more emotional as the lyrics called for.
Even though he has access to his official account, he could only upload the song to a rashly made SoundCloud account. Except he found that he enjoyed the fact that his listeners could comment on certain timestamps throughout the song.
It was so easy to lose track of time. He was drunk on all the feelings the reactions to his sudden act of rebellion had provoked.
Having expected this to happen doesn’t prepare Jaemin completely for it.
Upon walking into the meeting room he is ambushed by his manager. There’s no one else there yet, Jaemin surprisingly arrives early without needing Renjun to pick him up after the older had texted him he would be busy with another meeting.
It's easy to guess what that meeting was about. Renjun’s been glaring at him since he stepped into the room, shoulders stiff, back completely straight, his face a tone or two redder than usual and Jaemin is sure if he looks any closer he may see a popping vein above the collar of his white shirt.
“Na Jaemin, do you have any idea of what you’ve just done?”
The question is said through gritted teeth, close to a hiss. Jaemin takes in a deep breath and tries hard to not roll his eyes, barely succeeding. “Look, the fans liked it-“
“You were out of line!” Renjun snaps, voice sharp and loud enough that Jaemin can’t help but flinch. “You’re an idol yes, an employee of this company just as I am. But which one of us has to get chewed out for your actions?” Jaemin squints, not liking the accusing and condescending tone his manager is taking. He is not a little kid.
“I’m supposed to be making music, that’s my job! If they won’t support me then what is the point of keeping me here?” The bitterness he has been drowning in for so long starts bubbling up, coating his throat and tongue until it's all he can taste. He tries to keep his composure by curling his fingers into fists and looking away from Renjun but his manager blocks him from taking a seat at the table and throws his head back with a loud groan. He might lose a few strands of his black hair if he tightens his fingers around it a bit more.
“You’re being so immature, Jaemin! You used the official account without anyone’s permission, shared an unfinished song without the approval of the directors or producing team! And this timing? We are preparing to support your career and here you are being a brat!” Jaemin can only bite on his tongue and watch as Renjun covers his face with his hands, taking a couple of slow breaths to calm himself down.
Jaemin snapping back will only make this much messier than it already is.
And he's right to behave. Because they were no longer alone.
“Sorry for intruding.” It’s Kim Doyoung, walking in through the very door Jaemin and Renjun thought had been closed. Jaemin’s nails dig deeper crescents into his palms, watching from the corner of his eye how the band members follow after Doyoung.
Jaemin and Renjun greet them and take their seats too, the manager apologizing and reassuring them Jaehyun is on his way so they could start the meeting soon. He places his hands on top of the desk, fiddling with the silver ring on one of his fingers, evading the eyes of whoever decided to sit across from him.
But he gives in. And of course, it's Jeno’s eyes he meets, his heart skips a beat or two when the corners of Jeno’s lips curl into a faint smirk, the look in his dark eyes daunting, mocking.
Jaemin wants so badly to punch that smug look off his face.
Someone knocks on their door and Renjun calls for them to open curtly when they hesitate, the lanky young man from the first meeting peeks in. He bows to everyone and then glances from Renjun to Jaemin. “Mr Choi is asking to see you for a moment.”
“Ok thank you Jisung. Excuse us, we’ll return shortly.”
It seemed Renjun wasn’t the only one getting chewed out today.
“Well, that sure was awkward.” Yangyang is the first one to speak after Jaemin and his manager leave the room. Doyoung shoots him a look but says nothing and Yangyang takes this as a sign he’s allowed to carry on. “I’m glad we are not idols. Their grip on them is really strong, huh?”
“He was stupid to act out when everyone is working to do him this favour.” Jeno says casually, not bothering to hide the amused smile on his lips. “Sure, the song was well received by his fans but what if it fucked everything up instead?”
“I don’t know Jen, have you even listened to it? It was good,” Chenle leans forward in his seat, crossing his arms over the desk to lay his head on them, eyes still on Jeno. “It was similar to his sound from before, what got him those fans to begin with.”
“It was!” Donghyuck perks up, earning a quirked eyebrow from Mark and Doyoung on either side of him. “It started with his guitar alone and he wasn’t straining his voice this time! He sang softly and in his range, and the lyrics were a little unpolished but in a way that shows they were written by him with his own pen and soul. Not really trying to get the approval of others, you know?”
“I actually do not.” Mark drawls, giving the vocalist a deadpan stare but looking away when Donghyuck turns to him with a pout and a whine on the tip of his tongue. “I listened to the song too though and yeah it was really good. We should invite him to our studio so we can go through more of our demos together. Maybe he’ll bring something he made himself?” He suggests wide-eyed.
“Didn’t you call him an idol in a derogatory way the other day? Right in front of his face?” Yangyang pipes up, giving Donghyuck a bewildered look.
“I’m a huge fan of his earlier work. It’s complicated though, you wouldn’t get it.” Donghyuck dismisses him just as easily, to which Yangyang scoffs, offended.
Jeno shakes his head tiredly, slipping his phone out of his pocket to aimlessly scroll through one of his social media accounts, silently putting an end to his part in this conversation. Chenle and Donghyuck continue talking about Jaemin’s song, their voices pitching higher at times while answering a question Mark or Yangyang bring up.
This whole collaboration was getting more complicated by the day.
Jaemin couldn’t believe it at first when Mark suggested that he come with them to their label outside of their schedules. He did it once Doyoung, Renjun and Jaehyun walked out talking about something amongst themselves regarding the details for their recording next month.
“We’re going to work on some songs in the studio tomorrow, you should come with us."
Jaemin immediately glanced at the rest of the band, everyone but Jeno having stopped what they were doing to listen to Jaemin’s answer.
That’s how Jaemin finds himself at one of the recording studios in the AZURA building the next evening. It's only the band members there, Mark and Jeno sitting by the control panel while the rest are on the long leather couch.
Cigarette smoke clouds the room thanks to Yangyang and Jeno smoking through Chenle’s pack. Donghyuck, who’s stopped being as nasty as he was to Jaemin before, is humming the lyrics Mark wrote on the spot to the melody Jeno came up with, a couple of lines having been pitched in by Jaemin and well received by the others.
Hours pass in their seemingly comfortable gathering to the point Jaemin can almost smile genuinely, Chenle so close so surprising a laugh out of him after he makes a witty retort to a random suggestion from Yangyang. But he cannot. Not when he frowns the moment he accidentally makes eye contact with Jeno’s because the older keeps brushing off some of Jaemin’s ideas without bothering to explain why. He wants to get away from Jeno the moment they end this brainstorm session.
So when Mark stands up with a single loud clap a little after midnight, announcing they should all head home to rest, Jaemin is quick to get on his feet and wish them a good night. Chenle offers to walk him out and Jaemin accepts, thankful the younger didn’t bring anything with him so he doesn’t have to wait for him and they’re on their way the next moment.
Unfortunately, once they reach the basement Jaemin notices his car keys are not in his pocket. He rummages through his bag in case he put them there for some reason but to no avail. “Maybe they slipped out on the couch?” Chenle wonders, admitting he has lost more than one ring there.
With a frustrated sigh, Jaemin accepts his fate and bids Chenle goodbye. He runs into Mark and Donghyuck on the elevator, growing restless knowing there were two other people that hadn't yet left the studio.
Jaemin was thanking the Gods above when he doesn’t run into Yangyang either on his way to the studio, only for his blessings to run out when he sees the Taiwanese boy walking down the hallway towards him, backpack over his shoulder.
“Oh, did you forget something? You're lucky Jeno and I were still here because we always lock up the studio. Have a good night!” Yangyang gives him a gummy grin and sidesteps him, leaving Jaemin to gather his composure and continue on his way, dreading it knowing Jeno remains inside.
He doesn’t knock on the door - though he considers it for a moment - and pulls on the handle, betraying himself by looking at Jeno immediately on entry. Jeno’s still sitting at his laptop, focused on the screen as he saves one of the tracks they worked on. The lights have been dimmed since he left, softening the edges on Jeno’s face and the ink covering his neck, his black Adidas track jacket slightly opened low on his shoulders to reveal the tattoo.
Jaemin almost hesitates in the doorway. He’s received so many lessons about professional etiquette to avoid leaving bad impressions on other artists or staff, but he forgets all that entirely when he steps inside.
Without wasting a single second more, he marches towards the couch, his nerves admittedly acting up when he catches the sound of Jeno’s chair swivelling around. The lack of further sound from the other is telling enough, Jeno’s just… watching him.
It's undeniable and annoying. Jeno’s gaze is unwavering, and Jaemin’s trying not to address it because he knows they would just start bickering and he just doesn’t have the energy to waste on another argument.
And Jaemin would have stayed quiet, focused on his task except he can’t really do it anymore with how creepy Jeno’s being. He's already annoyed having to be in the same room alone with Jeno, but it's the muffled chuckle he hears from behind that makes him turn around to face the man, managing to keep his expression controlled, not wanting to give Jeno the satisfaction of expressing how easily bothered he already is.
"What’s so funny?" He says rather calmly, proud of how he can maintain his emotions at bay so they don't bleed into his voice.
It must be a talent of Jeno’s, how quickly he can get Jaemin blood boiling. He's been around the rockstar on a mere three brief occasions, and each time has been enough to light Jaemin on fire. Like he's always ready to piss Jaemin off.
Jeno giggles, his deep voice pitched higher, sounding almost innocent, with his eyes squinted into crescents. Jaemin is about to question the older once more, most probably about to tell him to fuck off, when Jeno tilts his head to the side, his gaze amused in a way that makes Jaemin’s stomach drop. "Are you looking for these?" He hums as he reaches inside the pocket of his jacket, moving his hand to dangle Jaemin's car key from a middle finger.
Jaemin can’t help being relieved, he doesn’t want to imagine the rant Renjun would have gone into if he had truly lost his keys. "Is there a reason why you have my keys?" Jaemin asks with a heavy sigh, giving Jeno a bored look.
"Yeah, you left them here." Jeno drawls. "So let’s see,” he starts counting listing out on his hand “he’s impulsive, attention-seeking, and irresponsible. Yikes." He has the nerve to speak as if he's merely murmuring a passing idea to himself, completely disregarding the fact that Jaemin is glaring at him from just a meter away.
He doesn’t stop to think, his body moving on its own accord makes the short stride to Jeno’s chair and he's snatching his keys away, only slightly catching the rockstar's dumb face at being blindsided before he turns, pleased with his small victory. He’s ready to leave when he hears the sound of Jeno's irritating voice once more.
Jeno lets out a dramatic sigh and tsks. "Jokes on me for thinking you had any manners. Not even a thank you?"
"For what?" Jaemin hisses back, swiftly spinning around to look at Jeno who is just gazing at him with an unimpressed expression. "Stealing my keys?"
"Finding them. Keeping them safe. No one wants your crappy Audi, babe." The power that a mere term of endearment possesses is surprisingly dangerous even when spoken with a tone filled with such cold disdain.
“Right," Jaemin nods solemnly "want me to take a seat so you can insult me some more? You obviously have things you need to get off your chest.” Jaemin offers sarcastically, back to crossing his arms over his chest, his soft hoodie doing nothing to give him an inkling of comfort.
“Uh?” Jeno tilts his head to the side again, for some reason looking confused. "I have nothing to say to you." He says incredulously, as if suggesting otherwise is unimaginable.
"Really? That’s shocking considering how vocal you were at the meeting." Jaemin recalls bitterly, the bottled-up frustration he feels at Jeno’s unprovoked rudeness threatening to boil over.
"Yeah, well your actions affect everyone, Jaemin. It's not just you and your joke of a career at risk. At least while the collab is happening." Jeno rolls his eyes, turning in his chair to close shut his laptop and put it in his bag, promptly ending the conversation by himself. Except Jaemin’s too heated now to let him get the last word in.
"Being an idol is not a joke." Jaemin spits back, his back hunching just slightly as if his body sought to express just how much pressure his words alone carry. He is not ashamed of being an idol, even when it wasn't what he dreamt of as a kid. He's put in way too many hours of hard work to get to where he is for Jeno to look down on him so blatantly.
"I never said it was. There are plenty of respectable artists who are idols in the industry, babe. You're just not one of them." Jeno smirks, the pet name covered in more layers of overly fake endearment. It grates on Jaemin’s nerve.
“Oh, and you’re the one who gets to decide?" His eyebrows raise. Jeno just chuckles, leaves his bag on his chair and approaches Jaemin, the sound of his steps soft, unlike Jaemin’s heartbeat.
"You tell me, Jaemin. Where have you been for the past year?" He asks with a nasty look on his face, the mocking enjoyment in his eyes shining way too brightly for Jaemin.
Lost. Bitter. Lifeless.
Depressed and alone. Hosting pity parties by himself when he only had himself to blame. Resenting everyone who had a hand in taking away his voice. The very people who promised him he would reach heights he’s never even imagined, all while slowly tying his hands and feet down so he would dance to their tune.
But he doesn’t say any of that. He won’t do it, especially not to satisfy Jeno’s wicked pleasure for getting to him.
"That’s none of your fucking business." The words feel venomous coming out of his mouth. He wishes he had something more clever to say. A better way to defend himself, but even he’s painfully aware that he had already set himself on a path where his name would be left unspoken, and his songs never sung again.
Jeno lets out a dismissive scoff, deeming the situation unworthy of any more of his time. "You're pathetic, Jaemin." He shakes his head and turns, showing him his back.
‘You’re pathetic.’ The word rings in Jaemin's head madly
Pathetic.
That word again.
Just how many times did the people supposed to be helping him use that word against him? How many times was he humiliated and dismissed in the same way? They made sure to nail it into his head, his very heart until he carried it like a weight with him, getting heavier and heavier every time he was reminded that he was tied to it now.
He hates it. He hates everyone who’s ever called him that word.
He hates Jeno.
Jaemin catches Jeno before he can take another step, dragging him back and slamming him against the door after he kicks it shut, uncaring if anyone walking by hears it slam. "You don’t know anything,” he seethes, his grip on the front of Jeno’s white shirt wrinkling the cloth, his nails making contact with the skin through the material. "You don't get to decide whether or not all my hard work and sacrifice means shit. And you don't get to call me that. Not unless you've lived through what I lived through and came out differently."
Jeno seems startled by Jaemin’s sudden only for a moment before he’s glaring back darkly, arching a pierced eyebrow, the dim light catching on the silver of it. "I can call you whatever the fuck I want to call you,” Jeno mutters angrily “It's what you are. The truth.” He whispers the last part like he’s talking to a child, “You're impulsive, attention-seeking, irresponsible, and pathetic." Jeno makes sure to draw out that cursed word, savouring it and hoping it coats Jaemin’s tongue too. He tries to get Jaemin's hand off of him but he doesn’t relent.
"Shut up! Shut up, Jeno, you don’t know a single thing." He repeats, his rage-fueled heart beating loud to his own ears.
"I know enough," Jeno smiles, again with that fake innocent smile of his. “Now get your hands off me." He gives them a pointed glance.
"You're gonna have to make me." Jaemin has barely finished his sentence when Jeno grabs a fistful of his hoodie and shoves him off and against the adjacent wall. His breath is knocked out of him on impact with a winded groan.
"Do you try to fight everyone who tells you the truth?" Jeno sneers, leaning into Jaemin’s personal space until their heavy breaths are mingling together. Jaemin glares, his nostrils flaring.
He places his hands on Jeno’s shoulders and pushes, trying to cling to whatever’s left of his self-control to not shove him back roughly knowing well enough that another violent gesture could turn this into a full-blown fight.
"Why so quiet now, the perfect idol can’t admit he throws hissy fits and slams people against doors?”
"Only assholes like you. You can’t be stupid enough to think you’ll get away with talking to me like that.” Jaemin gives Jeno another push, hard enough that Jeno stumbles back a bit. But before he can take advantage of it the older is crowding him in again, this time even closer and Jaemin almost cowers into himself at their proximity.
Jeno clicks his tongue, giving him such a disappointed look Jaemin can feel his heartbeat spiking again. "Maybe if you'd listen you wouldn't find yourself begging us to save you before you completely ruined yourself." His breathing has become a bit irregular from having to keep Jaemin pinned against the wall.
"I didn't beg anyone for anything, least of all for your advice. And I definitely wouldn't beg you for shit, Jeno." He spits out, ready to throw away his resolve at not involving any fists. And then Jeno’s next words make him blank out.
"You sure about that?"
There’s nothing to point to Jeno’s words having any ulterior meaning. They’ve been barking back and forth for what feels like way too long now, but Jaemin has to stop and process what he’s just heard. Their chests are pressed flush together now, he can feel Jeno's heart beat just as erratically as his. They were so close Jaemin had to constantly shift his eyes between both of Jeno's to look at him head-on.
It’s because of that same proximity that he’s able to see Jeno’s eyes flicker down to his lips. Jaemin’s heart stops, his eyes widening as something between a hiss and a groan gets trapped in Jeno’s throat like he was fighting with himself. The hands that had unthinkingly shoved Jeno’s shoulders were suddenly powerless, the hard muscle not relenting.
Although a part of him sees it coming he cannot prepare himself enough. He doesn’t think anything could have ever prepared him for it. Jeno captures his mouth effortlessly, his lips are demanding and harsh yet still feel so soft against his own, surprising a gasp out of him that he takes advantage of, introducing his tongue in their raw exchange.
Jaemin wishes he could say he pushes Jeno away, that he laughs at him for even considering making a move on him, to call him out on such delusions and how desperate he was for him to even attempt this, how pathetic he was for it.
But he can’t.
Because he is tilting his head to the side, sucking on Jeno’s tongue and tasting the honestly awful aftertaste of Jeno’s cigarettes. It still does nothing to stop the breathy little moan Jeno coaxes out of him when his hands slip underneath his hoodie and squeeze on his waist. His hands move to grab a fistful of Jeno’s blue locks, tightening it in retaliation for the bite delivered to his lower lip. He allows his thighs to be parted open by Jeno’s that prods between them, his other hand cupping Jeno’s nape to pull him impossibly closer.
Jeno’s kiss is consuming all of Jaemin’s quickly fading ability to form a coherent thought, of any inkling of rejection he could have harboured as his body grows pliant instead, his skin heating up where Jeno touches him, his thumbs digging into the skin of his lean stomach, his thigh pressing against Jaemin’s crotch with clear intent.
His own hands move to explore Jeno’s body, stroking the sides of his neck and gripping his shoulders, down the thick and hard muscle of his biceps and then to his sides, clawing at the annoying shirt that gets in his way of feeling the warmth of Jeno’s skin.
He pulls Jeno’s shirt up aggressively to let his hands roam underneath shivering when he feels the dips of his abs, the tension in his chest leaves with a soft sigh as he unthinkingly digs his nails into his skin when as he's stroking Jeno's back, undoubtedly leaving pink traces behind.
It's Jeno who separates their mouths and Jaemin blinks his eyes open, finding the action embarrassingly difficult. They exchange one silent look, looking for any sign of apprehension from the other about the path their bodies were taking them and finding none. Jeno dives his head to mouth on Jaemin’s neck, fingers threading through Jaemin’s hair to tug his head back, Jaemin going willingly with a moan spilling from his lips after holding back for so long.
He’s purposeful about mapping the expense of Jaemin’s neck, soft swollen lips against his skin a contrast to how his teeth bite down, harsh enough Jaemin hisses, but his hips buck forward betraying him, his tongue laving the redness and soothing the burn, careful to not leave any lasting marks on Jaemin’s skin.
Jaemin’s hands move onto Jeno’s chest to thumb on the buds of his nipples, circling them and feeling how they perk before he pinches them and tugs on them. Jeno groans against his throat and his thigh presses harder in between his, a hand flying down to cup the forming tent in Jaemin's jeans. He seals his lips shut, but surely Jeno can feel the moan vibrating in his throat because he chuckles and makes light work of undoing the buttons of Jaemin’s jeans and tugs on the zipper, the sound making Jaemin’s ears ring.
He takes Jaemin’s cock out with ease, laughing through his nose when he feels the drops of precum seeping from his slit. “Oh babe, you’re getting wet?” He leans in to ask in Jaemin’s ear, his breathy and deep voice making Jaemin’s body tremble. Skilled and callused fingers wrap around Jaemin’s hardening length, dragging down and up again to thumb on the head and urging more pearly drops to leak out. “I've barely started Jaemin, how are you this hot and bothered already?”
“You talk too much,” Jaemin spits back, glaring harder when he hears how out of breath he is just from some kissing and the heavy petting.”Hearing your voice is gonna make me go soft.”
Jeno laughs, leaning back so they can properly face each other, his eyes dark yet twinkling with amusement. “Somehow I doubt that.” Jaemin barely stops himself from whining in complaint when Jeno pulls his hand back, watching how he tilts his chin down and parts his reddening lips open, spitting into his palm to then wraps his hand around Jaemin’s cock again, this time the drag slick and a lot more pleasurable, his knees threatening with buckle.
He hates how much his body reacts to Jeno’s touch, but it's been so long since he had felt anyone else’s touch but his own. His face scrunches up with pleasure, refusing to let Jeno hear how much the lazy stroking of his cock is affecting him.
But Jaemin doubts Jeno would ever let him enjoy it in peace, he’s squeezing the base and surprising a mewl out of Jaemin to stroke his own ego. Jeno’s other hand reaches under to play with his balls, and really at this point Jaemin is barely holding onto his sanity. “Come on, Jaemin. Don’t get shy now, don't you love running that mouth of yours?”
Jaemin blinks open his eyes, not having realized he’d closed them to being with, scowling at the smirking rockstar. “Oh, fuck you.”
Jeno shakes his head like Jaemin just said the silliest thing and leans in to bite Jaemin’s earlobe, giving it a harsh tug. “Uh-huh, babe, you’re the only one getting fucked tonight,” Jaemin’s treacherous body melts against the wall, his dick in Jeno’s hands pulsing as he releases more precum. The mere idea of Jeno taking him in this place is making his heart go crazy inside his chest, the heat pooling in his stomach spiking.
He can’t even think of anything clever to say back, nor does Jeno give him a chance. His lips get captured between Jeno’s again, the kisses deeper and hungrier than before, hands moving to his hips to guide him back and Jaemin walks backwards without hesitation, being led to the couch he had cursed so much not even 20 minutes ago.
When he feels the furniture behind him he sits down to watch as Jeno shrugs off his jacket and look to the small coffee table in front of the couch, one of the black boxes underneath is kicked open to reveal a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Jaemin doesn’t try to hide the wary look on his face when Jeno simply picks them up, slipping out a packet between his fingers.
Jeno quirks an eyebrow at his expression before he laughs. “What, you didn’t think you would be the first one to get fucked in here, right?”
“So, you have a cum-stained couch in your studio? You’re all so gross.” He comments earnestly instead of entertaining Jeno’s question. He gives a wary look to the leather couch as if he’s expecting to suddenly see the questionable stains.
“It's perfectly clean, we are not savages.” Jeno rolls his eyes and grabs the back of his shirt to take it off, revealing an annoyingly sculpted chest. Jaemin had indeed left pink marks there, they contrasted nicely with the black ink of Jeno’s tattoos all over both arms, down to the back of his hands and over his fingers.
Not wanting to continue sitting so awkwardly with only his cock out, Jaemin kicks his jeans off, thankful he was wearing loose-fitting ones. His underwear and hoodie follow along before he could hesitate for longer than a second, a bit uncomfortable with being the first one to bare his body.
He turns around on his own to grab onto the back of the couch, his back arching a little too eagerly for Jeno. Even though the idea of letting the older prep him makes his skin crawl, he prefers it to the image of doing it himself for Jeno to see. Somehow that would make him feel more vulnerable.
“I gotta admit I’m surprised you’re being so docile now,” Jeno speaks up, the telltale sound of the bottle uncapping making him flinch and moments later he feels the slicked fingers teasingly circling his entrance. “So, all you needed was the promise of cock inside you to make you agreeable?”
“No one’s agreeing with you, you’re just being useful for once,” Jaemin grumbles, glancing over his shoulder to give Jeno a deadpan look. “You better prove useful because I will leave before you can get your cock anywhere near me.”
“Aw, all bark and no bite. Look at you, offering yourself for me like a bitch in heat, waiting for me to fill you up,” Jeno’s mocking coos accompy the slide of not one but two fingers inside of him. He moves them not slowly but not too fast either, he’s not gentle or harsh.
Jaemin bites back a moan, a stuttered sigh punches out from his chest as his insides welcome the stretch of Jeno’s fingers, up, up, until they’re fully inside, crooking already in search of his prostate. He is embarrassed at how quickly Jeno is reducing him to a putty mess as he tries to find real purchase on the leather. And Jeno wastes no time pulling his fingers out just to thrust them back in, deep.
Jeno giggles madly, his free hand squeezing one of Jaemin’s asscheeks before pushing it to the side, his thumb stroking Jaemin’s perineum while his fingers fuck him faster and faster, Jaemin’s cock dripping onto the couch, chest heaving, neglected nipples perky and hard. “You’re taking my fingers so well, Jaemin. Your hole is just sucking them up like it’s made for them, mmh?” Jeno bends down to get closer to him, sucking on Jaemin’s nape, biting between his shoulder blades where he can get away with leaving a mark. “Pathetic little thing.”
The fiery rage he’d forgotten comes back instantly.This time his anger is mixed with undeniable lust, the combination short-circuiting his brain and leaving him to whimper at Jeno’s words. The way he's being worked is so relentless he’s only getting weaker, his thighs trembling and a needy little moan escapes him when finally, Jeno slides in a third finger.
He rocks his hips back, a hand moving from the couch to cover his mouth with his fist, refusing to let go of the sounds Jeno is working out of him. Seemingly having grown impatient himself, Jeno’s fingers slip out and Jaemin is left annoyingly empty. He hears the condom wrapper rip open and the bottle of lube uncapping again. A few moments later Jaemin’s body anticipates the fat head of Jeno’s cock as he slides it against his ass, in between his cheeks. The bastard enjoys it way too much when Jaemin rolls his hips back trying to get him to hurry up.
“So desperate Jaemin, you want it this bad?” Jeno blabbers on, holding Jaemin’s hips in place with a single hand while the other one disappears from Jaemin’s skin.
“Just get on with it, Jeno.” He mutters and thankfully Jeno listens this time, holding his member in place so he can breach Jaemin’s hole the next second, sliding inside with one smooth roll of his hips, all the way until Jeno is fully sheathed inside Jaemin’s pulsing walls.
Jaemin lets out a deep groan, head hanging low and his back naturally arching, surely making him look like a slut with how well he takes Jeno’s cock, how he completely welcomes him and surrenders to the feeling of being stuffed full. The older sighs, humming pleased with being wrapped in Jaemin’s tight heat before he pulls back and rocks back inside.
He doesn’t waste time building up a rhythm, thrusting faster each time, going deep enough his balls slap against Jaemin’s skin, the squelching sound from how he slips inside is so dirty and loud to Jaemin’s ears, his lower lip is bitten raw by now. Suddenly his head is pulled back, his hair fisted by Jeno’s fingers. “What? You don't want anyone to know how the Na Jaemin sounds being fucked within an inch of his life?"
Jaemin turns to sneer at the rockstar, pleased with himself for not getting distracted by the sinful sight that is Jeno behind him, his skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, the pronounced veins on his arms and neck, his messy blue hair and eyes so dark the lust swallows up his pupils. “You're not doing anything special, Jeno.” He replies boredly.
Challengingly.
The older’s mouth forms something between a scowl and a grin, his grip on Jaemin’s hair tightening like the one on his hip. His next thrust is harder, perfectly aimed at his prostate as if he’d been knowingly evading it until now, surprising a loud moan from him, his limbs shake, unable to close his mouth to stop the next moan Jeno fucks out of him.
It's so dirty, how Jeno continues fucking him with that ruthless pace once he finds that it makes Jaemin sing, his cockhead reaching so deep inside him he's sure if he were to place a hand on his tummy he may feel the intruding shape, his insides getting rearranged by the older’s length.
It is pathetic how Jaemin can do nothing but let Jeno push his head down, pinned against the back of the couch, kneeling there on all fours taking his cock as if he were born for it, legs spread open for Jeno to use. He feels tears welling in his eyes, saliva trailing past his lips and his neglected member swings with Jeno's pace, smearing precum against Jaemin’s stomach and dripping onto the couch. A growing pitiful puddle.
The knot in the pit of his belly gets tighter and tighter, His trembling thighs tremble and his erratic heartbeat makes him feel like he should probably be worried. But he knows these signs, he’s barely clinging on the edge.
And Jeno must have read the signs too, from how Jaemin is pulsing and squeezing around him because he suddenly pulls out, ignoring the whine that crawls up Jaemin’s throat, something so weak and whiny Jaemin barely recognized himself.
“Jeno I swear to God I’m going to-”
“Beg.”
Jaemin’s body goes stiff, tiredly glancing back at the smirking Jeno, staring incredulously at what he just heard. “What?” He has to ask, hoping he is mistaken but Jeno’s smirk grows, the hand on Jaemin’s hair lets go to stroke down his back, tracing his spine, making him shiver.
“I want to hear you beg, babe. Would you really never do it for me?”
Oh.
Oh, he’s evil.
Jaemin’s fingers curl into fists, the tears in his eyes from the pleasure surely making him look so pitiful no matter how hard he glares at Jeno. He was tasting sweet relief and Jeno is threatening to take it away from him because he's petty.
Jeno surprises him by guiding his cock back inside Jaemin, doing it torturously slow this time, making sure Jaemin can feel how his hole blossoms and stretches around his girth, his delicious shape. He shifts his hips so he’s pressing against Jaemin’s prostate and the younger can’t stop himself from trembling like a leaf, biting back a cry.
He wants to come.
He wants to come so badly, he is so close.
Jaemin mumbles underneath his stuttering breath and Jeno hums to urge him to repeat himself. So he does. He throws away any remnants of self-respect he has, if only for sweet release and speaks again.
“Don’t stop,” he groans frustratingly. He starts grinding against Jeno, moving in deep and slow circles, up and down feeling Jeno move inside him, a breathy gasp escaping him and it breaks the last of his restraint, more words spilling from his lips without him realizing it. “Please. Fuck me,” he sobs, “make me come, I want to come, I’m so close, Jeno, please.”
It must go to Jeno’s head because it seems to work.
Jaemin thinks he hears him curse but he can’t be sure, not when Jeno is pistoning his cock in and out of him, so hard and fast Jaemin can’t hold himself up anymore. He collapses on the couch, his nipples rubbing against the leather, the side of his face being rubbed raw with how much Jeno’s merciless thrusts move him about.
When Jeno brings a hand around Jaemin to grab hold of his dripping cock and jerk him to the pace of his hips, he does cry out, something between a plea and Jeno’s name. The older bends over until his chest is pressing against Jaemin’s back, his lips back on his skin, sucking and biting on his nape and between his shoulder blades. “Come Jaemin, do it, make a mess.” It’s as if his body had been waiting for Jeno’s permission because the next second he’s thrown over the edge, finally reaching the highs.
He comes, he comes so much. Whimpering and moaning against the couch as Jeno continues to fuck him, rhythm lacking it’s steadiness, his hips stuttering as he reaches his own climax. A particularly harsh bite on Jaemin’s shoulder muffles a whiny moan Jeno can’t contain.
Jaemin’s chest is still heaving when Jeno pulls back and slips out of his fluttering hole. His body is so suddenly cold now that he doesn’t have Jeno up against him, the layer of sweat on his skin makes him shiver. He reaches up to wipe away tears that trailed down his face at some point.
He hears Jeno walk around behind him, probably taking off the condom and throwing it away in some bin. Jaemin ignores the ache in his body, how his limbs feel like they’ve melted. He feels weak; he dreads standing up but he forces his body to obey him.
They don’t make any attempts at what would obviously be awkward conversation. They’re both too spent for the silence to feel uncomfortable. After getting cleaned and dressed separately they make quick work of getting the couch to its previous state with the tissues on the coffee table. Much later, when they have more studio sessions in the same room, Jaemin will find himself horrified at how convenient the place was for a quick fuck. He’ll be judging them all secretly; himself included.
“See you,” Jeno calls, voice deep and calm, yawning right after as he stretches his arms above his head.
Jaemin hadn’t spared Jeno a second glance since he started getting himself ready to leave. His voice snaps Jaemin out of his one-track mind to hightail it out of there.
He turns back to look at an expectant Jeno curiously before responding with a distracted, “Mmmh.”
He closes the door after himself and makes his way towards the elevator shaking his head awake for the drive home that awaited him, his car keys back in the pocket of his jeans.
Safe.