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Jaemin can still hear Jeno's receding footsteps when Chenle slides over to him.
They're both still balmy from their shower; humid air and half dried hair sticking to their necks. He's lying flat on his back and Chenle's nose squeezes into the space behind his ear, cold against his blood-warmed skin. He inhales and releases his breath in a happy sigh.
"I thought he'd never leave."
"You didn't want him out here?" Jaemin whispers.
"I mean I wouldn't have minded if there was more room. It's perfect for just the two of us."
In theory he's right. Now that Jeno's gone they each have their own flat sleeping pad. But Chenle has just rolled over into his and is now laying on top of him. That kind of negates the need for two.
"You do know your bed is over there, right?" Jaemin teases.
"You're warm," Chenle says instead, a non answer. His nose moves down Jaemin's neck to the side of his throat. His arm is flung across his chest, fingers digging into his upper arm and shoulder. Chenle's holding him tight, pressing close, their skin molding to each other like slabs of clay.
They lay like that for a while. The blue comforter rests over them, pooling at their hips. Jaemin can hear the drone of bugs outside. There's a window that's open and a breeze blows through the screen and across their goosebumps. There is a faint glow of the moon that washes the ceiling a pale blue and he feels he's moving in a memory.
Jisung sleeps across the room on the sole couch of the living room. His breath is audible through his parted lips. Jaemin can see a sliver of his face from where they're laying. He looks innocent as he dreams, the same as he had when Jaemin first met him.
Chenle's hand moves to Jaemin's chest. His fingers brush along the swell of his pec, moving back and forth as if remapping it. He grazes his nipple a few times, more bold in the silence of the house. Jaemin closes his eyes, in both relaxation and a desire for privacy. He can feel everyone in this house through the walls, their lazing bodies motionless in their sleep.
"I missed you." Chenle murmurs against Jaemin's collarbone.
Their schedules have been completely filled for the past few months with their individual bullshit. Shows, comebacks, singing, variety content all done without the other. It's not unusual for Chenle to go and promote in China, but Jaemin's break would usually coincides with it and he'd be free to pester him when he pleased. The past few months there has been barely any time to keep a back and forth conversation between them, each message staggered by hours of sleep and work.
All of the members have been doing their own thing for the first half of the year. It seems strange after so many years of being together to be slightly offset from each others lives. Like they are just a few steps from being in sync, moving parallel but never brushing.
Jaemin has been keeping up with Chenle's program he's been filming, of the men he's be touching there and the songs he's been singing. Chenle will send him videos of what he's working on.
He can feel the barrier his phone screen creates as he watches them, the coldness of their separation. To feel the warmth of Chenle against him now makes him feel normal for the first time in forever.
"I missed you, too."
He can feel how Chenle smiles against him. He leans his cheek on the top of Chenle's head and inhales the clean smell of the gardenia shampoo he used. Jaemin wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer.
They have many months before their schedules will align again. There are small blips of Dream scattered over the summer through a few fan signs, but other than that their far off comeback is the next time they will be together for a longer stretch. It makes this trip feel special. It makes the night feel special. He's happy they're alone too.
He kisses the side of Chenle's face, just above his temple. After a moment, he places another along the hairline by his ear. His hair has grown long in his absence and it tickles Jaemin's face as he pecks him again. Chenle presses his own lips to Jaemin's skin in return, mouthing along the neckline of his shirt. He pulls it down with one finger, no doubt stretching it, to lick further.
Sometimes when you lay close to someone there is a desire to merge, to fuse. Jaemin wishes he could wrap his arms around Chenle and absorb him completely. It's not a rare thought; he feels it with all five of them. But it's something about the way Chenle and he have grown, two trees whose roots have tangled together. A nervous system runs through one and down the other in a loop.
He can feel himself relying on Chenle more. His skin itches for him in the loneliness of his quiet hotel rooms. When they would tour together, traveling from one place to the next, they would find each other at night. Jaemin had got used to the way dim lamplight pooled shadows on Chenle's face, how he could dip in and kiss them until they dimpled and vanished.
After living in each others pockets for so long, it's jarring to be separated. When they've had long weekends of time they rarely leave each others side. Hands held in cars, arms linked in airports, bodies warm against each other in the early morning.
Here with him on their humble bedding, Jaemin feels at peace. The round, perfection of a circle, of their loop. Wholeness. His shoulders feel the weight of expectation slip off in some other direction, his responsibility dispersing to others. He can let go and immerse himself in the moment and not the endless question of what's next?
Chenle sandwiches Jaemin's leg between his own, kicking away their blankets. His head is still buried in his neck, a hand now underneath his shirt so he can knead Jaemin's left breast between his fingers. His thumb squeezes his nipple and Jaemin let's out a sigh of relief in Chenle's ear.
"Do you want it?" Chenle quietly asks, rising up to rest on an elbow. His hand is still groping Jaemin and his eyes track the folds of the fabric as they bunch and un-bunch with his movements.
It can be a myriad of things. But whatever it is, Jaemin does want it. "The others?"
"I'll be quiet." It's whispered in the air between them, a promise. Jaemin knows it's a lie but he's too desperate to care. He nods. "I want to touch you." Chenle says just bordering on a plea. Jaemin nods again. They kiss and he un-spools.
To Chenle's credit, they do start quiet. Their lips meet in silent nudges, breathing out of their noses where they are pressed to cheeks. Jaemin kisses Chenle's cheek exactly how he had fantasized about. He bites along his jaw bone, feeling it between his teeth. He feels exposed with no comforter to conceal them. Anyone could walk in and see it. Chenle rises slightly, bringing himself closer, grinding higher against his leg.
It causes Jaemin's breath to shorten to quickened gasps. It feels dirty to do this with Jisung only across the room. There's a desperation to how they're touching each other that's spiking his blood with shame. He can feel it hot in his cheeks as it burns.
But he is desperate; why lie. He's unsure when he will get another opportunity to hold Chenle like this and he wants to relish in their alone time while he still can.
His right hand travels down Chenle's back, past his ribs and waist and underneath his pants. He cups his butt and pulls him more firmly to him. His skin is soft and warm. A light dusting of hair wisps along his fingertips. He holds him closer to him, using his hand to grind Chenle against him.
Chenle pants against his ear, quiet mewls that border on noisy. Jaemin kisses him again to silence him.
His tongue licks along Chenle’s lips then past them to his teeth. He follows the ridges of them, across their thin tips that lead to their backs. Jaemin sucks on his upper lip and pushes further into him to the roof of his mouth. Chenle’s hands grip the side of his face, thumbs pressed to the skin right besides his nose. It’s wet, open-mouthed and blooming.
Their skin sizzles in the cold air of the room. The weather is supposed to turn into thunderstorms some time in the early morning, and Jaemin can feel it coming. The electricity moves silently through the air into his body, to his sore muscles and bones. The old injury in his back aches from the pressure of everything in the room.
Chenle pulls away. Their spit binds them in a lolling chain between their lips. Chenle's eyes look upon him heavily, lids sliding closed and blinking slowly open. He sits up and straddles his thigh, legs folding and back straight. His hips rock in minute circles against where Jaemin's own hips meet his leg. He digs deep into the crease there, straddling him so close his knee rubs Jaemin's own cock. Chenle hands dig into his lower stomach, thumbs pressed together, fingers spread in the shape of wings. His teeth glow in the darkness of the room, his pink tongue wetting his lower lip.
Jaemin groans at the sight. He feels his chest may burst. Chenle pushes one of his hands against Jaemin's mouth. His head gets shoved back into the flat pillow as Chenle uses it for leverage.
"Shhhh," he reprimands even as he whimpers himself. Jaemin groans again and its muffled.
Chenle looks down upon him, eyes cat-like and glinting. His inhales hitch with sweet keens of both effort and pleasure. He rides him selfishly, taking and grinding and pushing and silencing. Jaemin licks the back of the hand in his desperation to taste him.
Jaemin's left hand rests passively by his head on his pillow. His other is still in Chenle's pants, slightly guiding his gyrations. He pulls down the waistband of them until they're scrunched between their thighs. He spreads his cheeks apart, exposing him to the twilight of the room. Chenle gasps quickened breaths. His rubbing himself faster against Jaemin, his cock rock hard and insistent. Jaemin presses a dry finger against his hole.
Chenle chokes out a noise. It's strangled and much too loud. It shocks them both. Chenle's embarrassment is red and steaming on his cheeks. Jaemin presses more firmly against him, rubbing against his hole in a circular motion. He enters him a breadth and his insides are warm and silken.
They haven't fucked in what seems like forever. It's easier to fool around like this and get done quickly. Jaemin likes to take his time with him when they have the opportunity to. To rush it seems wrong to him.
He can see in Chenle's eyes that that's really what he wants. If Jaemin had been the one leaning over him, asking into the night 'do you want it?' while all their closest friends slept nearby, Chenle would have told him such. To just shutout the rest of the world and care only about each other and what they want. He would be riding him for real, not in their half-clothed way they're doing now. Jaemin's mouth waters at the image, at the closeness and intimacy.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against Chenle's palm. He inserts his finger knuckle deep past his rim.
Chenle has three filthy grinds in him before he's cumming. His groan is surprisingly quiet but still long and drawn out. The space between his eyebrows wrinkles in ecstasy, his eyes searching and glittering with tears. Glistening drool drips from the side of his mouth and Jaemin wants to lick it off him.
His fingers slip from Jaemin's mouth to the side of his face. Jaemin sits up, holding Chenle in his lap through his after shocks, both hands on his hips. Chenle shallowly grinds against him. They kiss and its soft and quiet, more tongue than anything.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs again. It carries more shame in it now that Chenle has finished. The aforementioned pulls back to give him a quizzical look.
"I just came in my pants and you're saying sorry?"
"Sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted. That we don't have enough privacy. Next time, I promise, I'll-"
"This is fine. More than fine." Their words are hushed and spoken against each others lips.
"Yeah?" Jaemin asks, still unsure. Chenle kisses him with tongue and teeth.
"It's exactly what I wanted, Jaemin. I told you I missed you." He cups Jaemin through his pants. He rises up and sinks down into him, using his whole body to rub against Jaemin like he's riding him again.
Jaemin presses his groans into the side of Chenle's throat. He kisses meaning into the skin there, all of his emotions spoken in the DNA of his spit.
"Are you going to," Jaemin starts, unsure where he wants to finish that thought.
Chenle moves Jaemin's pajama bottoms enough to pull him out of his underwear and they both watch as he strokes him. Jaemin fills up his small hands, thick alongside his short fingers. His tip is maroon and leaking. Chenle twists along his cock head, spreading his pre-cum down his shaft.
It feels so good. he had not realized how close he was. It's easy to forget his bearings when Jaemin can only focus on the fine point of Chenle: his hands on him, his breath against his ear, the strain of his thighs pressing into him, the pinkness of him, the bruising of his lips.
He feels gaping and sliced open,hollowed and scooped out with a spoon. He wants to be inside him more than anything. He pulls Chenle to him and wants to cry.
Chenle's other hand weaves its way into the hair at the back of Jaemin's neck and he holds him close to him. Jaemin's head falls into the crook of his shoulder, his hands erratic along Chenle's back and hips. He pulls at the fabric of his shirt, lifting it to feel the skin of Chenle's pale stomach.
He's not going to last much longer. He can feel it building inside him, at the base of his cock, in the back of his eyeballs. It's tears pricking, forming from his frustration that they must be still, they must be quiet. It's just a hair less than enough. He understands the look in Chenle's eyes he had been so apologetic for. It was not his alone, but a reflection of both of their desire.
Then Chenle is saying, "Hold on," and his hand is off and his heat is gone. His incoming climax wanes. Jaemin is leaning back, a question solidifying on his tongue, when he sees Chenle suck on his own fingers. He licks between them, lips puckering around his hand. His fingernails latch into the back of Jaemin's scalp as he takes. Jaemin's breath becomes short as he watches him, his arousal filling his chest with heaviness.
He has to look away to remain quiet. Chenle gets like this sometimes; nasty and aiming to provoke. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can see through the pockets of dim shadows that make up the corners of the room. He can see the distant treeline through the window, the leaves black and billowing.
The moonlight has shifted into a solid block of light blue. It falls upon the back of the couch. The loose threads and scratches in the fabric are highlighted white, a beacon in the wine-dark night. Chenle breaths in his ear. He removes his fingers from his mouth with a suggestive pop and grasps Jaemin again.
It's in that moment he notices movement on the couch. Its so small he has to squint to confirm it's real and not just a figment of his Chenle-warped-reality. But it is real.
It's Jisung.
Before, he had been asleep on his back, as peaceful as a corpse. Now he's curled on his side, watching them. Jaemin can see he is. His eyes are widened enough he can see the gray whites of them. His hand is across his mouth tight and pulling on the skin of his cheeks. He looks flushed, but he's just far enough away Jaemin is unsure.
His blanket is pulled up to his shoulders. The quilted lines warp into a peculiar contour of his body. It makes him look anamorphic and strange. But there's that movement underneath it, the one that had caught his attention. About half way down, Jaemin can see a steady, quick pulling of sorts. Jisung is touching himself as he watches them.
Jaemin barely holds back his groan. Does he really need to anymore, he wonders. They don't have to be as quiet if they've been unknowingly been putting on such a show.
He kisses Chenle again, really playing into it. Judging by the noise he makes, he must be surprised by the sudden enthusiasm. Jaemin feels the scratch of Jisung's gaze and the claw mark's of Chenle around his neck. He feels prodded and exposed, glowing holographic. He whines against Chenle's mouth and he opens up to him, noses mashing together.
Chenle's hand picks up speed, quick flicks of his wrist that have Jaemin feeling his climax peaking. He opens his eyes and watches Jisung; his movements are in time with Chenle's. Quick and efficient. Soft, rhythmic moans leave Jaemin and pour into Chenle.
He thrusts up into his hand, his hips suddenly restless and chasing. He shoots unexpectedly, spurting across their stomachs and shirts. He comes watching Jisung, seeing the glisten of moonlight in his eye.
Chenle helps him through it, kissing him deep. His hand strokes him slow enough to gather a majority of his cum. His fingers go back into his mouth.
"So good," Jaemin says quietly, but loud enough to hear across the room. He grips Chenle's wrist and pushes him deeper into himself. Chenle moans around it.
Jaemin kisses his cheeks. He can feel the contour of Chenle's fingers through the soft skin there like he's reaching for him. He feels at the wet spot of Chenle's pants and grips him there.
Chenle wraps three fingers around his wrist like a handcuff. They're wet with his spit. "We can't. Not if it's not all the way."
"I know. I just wanted to feel it."
They fall back on the bed. Chenle finds their discarded comforter and swings it back over them. He lays his head above Jaemin's heart, his ear eagerly pressed to it. Jaemin's fingers comb through his hair. He hums.
Chenle hums back, but in question.
"I like your long hair," Jaemin says. Chenle squeezes an arm around his waist, happy.
Jaemin lets his head fall in the direction of Jisung. His back is facing them now, head buried.