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Jaehyun knew it was bedroom talk, that it didn’t mean anything and that it was purely to elevate the already exhilarating feeling of euphoria that was already encapsulating both Riwoo and him; and yet, he found those hormone-laced words ringing in his head for weeks.
“Let’s get out of this town,” Riwoo had murmured, head tilted so that his lips played a daring game with the skin of Jaehyun’s ear. The dancer’s fingers were somewhere near his waist, slender fingertips curating the most heavenly sensation- but Jaehyun wasn’t focused on touch - at least not right now .
Right now, Jaehyun was focused on the weight of the words being whispered to him. “Just you ‘n me, yeah?” The black-haired man felt a bit silly for how quickly he nodded.
Eagerly, desperately.
Riwoo's grin grew against Jaehyun’s skin and the leader swore he could feel Riwoo’s sharp canines graze against the shell of his ear- “You like that?” Riwoo’s words were probably in reference to whatever he was doing with his hands- but again, Jaehyun wasn’t focused on touch.
All Jaehyun’s euphoria-intoxicated brain could focus on was just how… good it sounded. Leaving all this behind, the idol life. Sure, it was what both Riwoo and Jaehyun spent years of their lives training for…and they were in such a good position- in reference to boynextdoor’s current social status and literally.
Yet, social status couldn’t give Jaehyun what his heart really craved, fame couldn’t give Jaehyun the same satisfaction that being good for Riwoo gave him, and as much as onedoor may want to- they couldn’t touch him the way Riwoo could.
When Riwoo slipped out of Jaehyun’s room that night, the leader stayed staring at his ceiling. His mind was a jumbled mess, partly due to the fact his legs were currently shaking but mainly because Riwoo’s bedroom talk hadn’t left the room when he had.
No, Riwoo’s words stuck to Jaehyun in a way nothing else had before. They were seeping into his skin, burying themselves deeper than Riwoo had been just moments prior.
It didn’t get better the next morning, nor the night after that.
Two weeks- and it had still not gotten better. Riwoo, whether knowing it or not, had broken Myung Jaehyun. He was off his game, and now everyone was beginning to notice.
It started small, with Jaehyun paying just a bit too much attention to Riwoo during dance practices- or with Jaehyun having to sit beside Riwoo during group meals. Clingy, sure, but not out of the norm for Jaehyun.
Then, it grew.
Jaehyun was a magnet, and Riwoo was the attracting piece. If Riwoo entered a room, Jaehyun’s eyes latched onto the man immediately- taking in his short frame, his copper hair, his toned legs and arms from the ungodly amount of hours he spent at the dance building.
It was probably annoying for the other members, but Jaehyun knew he had an actual problem when “ heart eyes myungjae” was trending on Twitter- for two consecutive days.
The worst part? Riwoo couldn’t have cared less. Not in ways that should’ve hurt, no. Riwoo could never be mean to Jaehyun- at least not on purpose.
No, Riwoo was mean without trying . Which Jaehyun quickly learned was way, way worse.
He rolled his body in ways that made Jaehyun’s head spin, gave Jaehyun that smile when the black-haired man plopped down next to him at restaurants, somehow always ended up in the same room as the leader…and worst of all, couldn’t stop laughing at the “ heart eyes myungjae” discourse- going as far too respond to fans on weverse about it.
All silly comments like; “Must be the new moisturizer I’m using” or “Was there something in my teeth?”
Jaehyun hated how wide he smiled at the words. He felt like a teenage girl laughing at her crush’s bad jokes.
That’s how Jaehyun ended up in front of Riwoo’s door, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other as he picked at a loose string on the sleeve of his teddy-bear patterned pajamas. He felt stupid, but that was becoming a common occurrence.
“Hyung?” Jaehyun’s voice was low- it had to be. If one of the other members heard and peaked their heads into the hallways, it’d be over for both of them. Jaehyun refused to let it be over.
When Jaehyun didn’t hear anything from behind Riwoo’s door, he shifted his weight once again. Did he retreat? Tip toe back to bed and pretend none of this happened in the morning?
No. Of course he didn’t.
“Hyung…” Jaehyun put a slight whine in his tone, knowing what it did to Riwoo, what it meant to Riwoo.
It didn’t take long for Riwoo to open the door after that.
It also didn’t take long for them to end up in the same position that started all of this; with Jaehyun on his back and Riwoo above him, knee between his legs and the other putting slight pressure on his thigh. Jaehyun’s heartbeat was elevated, and it only got worse as Riwoo’s fingers found the waistband of his boxers.
“Y’know you can’t use that… tone , what if someone heard you?” Riwoo tsked, playing with the elastic fabric. Jaehyun rutted his hips forward, desperate for more than he was currently getting.
More touch, more Riwoo.
“They didn’t.” Jaehyun bit back, frustration fueling his attitude. Riwoo let out a breathy laugh, licking his tongue over his teeth- “Guess you’re right.”
“Hyung, please .” Jaehyun had never been one to be above begging. Riwoo’s entrancing eyes flickered up to Jaehyun’s wide one’s, making his heart soar- he was looking at him. Only him.
“What if someone hears? Hm?” The dancer moved his knee a bit higher- giving into Jaehyun’s puppy-dog eyes.
“What are you gonna do when Myung Jaehyun and Lee Sanghyeok end up on the front of dispatch’s page?”
The words should’ve scared Jaehyun. They should’ve made his hips stop rutting up and down, should’ve made him come to his senses about just how dumb it was to fall in love with a member of his own group.
Instead?
Instead they sent a jolt of exhilarating enthusiasm down his spine and straight to the knot of pleasure that was growing in his stomach. It was bad, Jaehyun knew that. He was only stupid when it came to Riwoo, not when it came to the media.
“No one has to know what we do.” Jaehyun mumbled, his breath hitching as the movement in his hips grew sloppier. One side of Riwoo’s lips curled upwards as he leaned in, dangerously close.
Jaehyun’s heart thumped so loudly against his ribcage, he wondered if the dancer could hear it too. If he could, he didn’t care- because the way Riwoo’s fingers were sneaking into strands of Jaehyun’s dark hair were only making the thumps louder.
Jaehyun’s eyes darted from Riwoo’s in an attempt to self-soothe; he could not die of a heart attack in Riwoo’s room- that would definitely end up on headlines.
His gaze landed on the half unbuttoned pajama top that was thrown sloppily onto the floor next to Riwoo’s dance bag. The copper-haired man had gotten through half the buttons before deciding to just lift it off Jaehyun’s torso, his fingers much too shaky with want .
Jaehyun would be lying if he said it didn’t boost his ego at least a teeny bit.
Suddenly, Riwoo’s mouth was back where it was when this all started. Dangerously close to the skin of Jaehyun’s ear, so close that everytime he spoke Jaehyun could feel the ghost-like trace of Riwoo’s lips against his cartilage.
“Eyes, hyunnie.” The way the words were murmured against Jaehyun’s red ears was nearly enough to break him. The nickname, the way that Riwoo didn’t ask but demanded . It was a command, and Jaehyun followed it.
His eyes locked back with Riwoo’s, causing a cocky smile to spread across the dancer’s face. “There he is.” Riwoo cooed, leaning back down and pressing kisses against the skin right under Jaehyun’s eye.
The noises that emitted from the younger were beautiful, and it only made Riwoo’s want to see, to make , Jaehyun unravel grow.
The idea to make the man humiliate himself was tempting, but Riwoo decided he had been enough of a tease this week. “How do you want it, hm?” Riwoo asked after littering one last kiss- his fingers were now tracing invisible patterns up and down the leader’s arm, attempting to bring him back to most of his senses.
“Just- just-” Jaehyun let out a huff, a pout settling on his face as he grew frustrated with just how dumb Riwoo was making him. Riwoo decided then that anything Jaehyun wanted- he’d give.
“Just you , ‘hyeok.” Jaehyun finally got out, hands shaking with anticipation. He’d played this dumb game of chase for long enough, he needed Riwoo- in any way the shorter man would have him.
Riwoo let out another breathy laugh and nodded, indulging himself in one kiss against Jaehyun’s pouty lips before lowering himself between Jaehyun’s legs. It was slow, yet confident. Calm, yet eager.
It was perfect. It was Riwoo.
By the time the sun rose, Jaehyun couldn’t even remember how he ended up back in his own bed; all he knew was his pajama shirt was replaced with the hoodie Riwoo had on that night and that Riwoo definitely wasn’t getting it back.
That was their routine. They fucked, Riwoo said something that rang like church bells in Jaehyun’s head, then teased until Jaehyun broke and the cycle began again. It was a dance, a game of cat-and-mouse.
Sometimes the teasing lasted longer than just a week or two, the longest it lasted was three months. Three months of Jaehyun chasing after Riwoo like a hungry puppy, three months of Riwoo giving him breadcrumbs to live off of.
It’s not like Jaehyun didn’t try to restart the cycle, he could’ve got to the door of Riwoo’s room blindfolded by the amount of times he had tried . The problem was that, even with his whiny tone- sometimes Riwoo wouldn’t cave.
He’d sit in his bed, listening to Jaehyun’s whines- the satisfaction of not giving into Jaehyun was enough to fuel his needs.
That’s when the dreams started. At first, they came in a blurry hazes- blurs of gentle touches and fingertip traces that were reminiscent of the hormone-filled nights the two boys had spent with one another.
Then, as Jaehyun’s desperation grew- so did the vividness of his nighttime adventures. The things he and Riwoo did replaying in what felt like exceptional detail; every breath that was just a little too close to his skin, every muscle tingling sensation that sent chills down his spine. All of it.
Jaehyun would wake up, hair always clinging to his forehead with sweat and his limbs tangled in his duvet- chest rising up and down as if he’d just finished practicing choreography.
He supposed in some ways, he had.