[personal profile] maayacolabackup
Title: Burn Out
Pairing: Suho/Kai
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: fluff, fuck or die, fingering, rimming, unprotected sex, forced multiple orgasms, biting, no really: egregious amounts of fluff, Sehun. (i think consent is very, very clear, but if you know the trope is not your thing, please skip it!)
Summary: Jongin’s got an itch only Junmyeon can scratch. (canon…? 18.3k)
Notes: sort of like the sex pollen trope and I am very aware that this is an unrealistic side-effect of medication haha. Also it’s been awhile since I have produced porn of this magnitude.) #f_b
Notes ii: because I write whatever annie tells me to, and because konnie and because kendra and because clawing my own face off thanks to unexpected suho feelings. Sorry, but hopefully this will tide you over until jo and I get cracking on our revenge porn.


When Jongin’s back gets bad enough that he can no longer hide winces, face twisting up at the slightest movements, Sehun forces him to fess up to Junmyeon by slapping him lightly right above the injured area, making Jongin yelp like a kicked poodle in front of him.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon says worriedly, looking up from his book with soft sad eyes like Jongin has just copped to murder instead of to concealing an injury. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His hands grip tight on his thin thighs, and for a brief second, Jongin thinks Junmyeon is angry with him, before he realizes, with a sinking stomach, that Junmyeon is probably just angry at himself. “Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me?”

The wounded look on Junmyeon’s face makes Jongin feel like a wad of discarded bubblegum on the sole of someone’s shoe. “It’s not a big deal-“ Jongin starts, and Sehun snorts.

“It’s totally a big deal,” Sehun says. “I knew it had gotten serious when he didn’t dance like an overeager showgirl in front of Taemin today. It was either his back was still hurting, or a sign of the impending apocalypse.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jongin tries to add, but Junmyeon won’t hear any of it, standing up and pulling at Jongin’s shirt without waiting for permission, and releasing as sad sigh as he looks at the purpled skin he finds beneath it. His fingers skate across the bruise, a mere brush, but it’s enough to heat Jongin’s cheeks. “Really, it’s perfectly-“

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” Junmyeon says miserably. “I can’t believe I was so careless.” The corners of his lips turn down, and now it is Junmyeon that is the kicked poodle, and Jongin rushes to reassure him.

“No, hyung, it’s just that I didn’t want anyone to worry, and-“

“And you’re as stubborn as a mule and didn’t want to miss out on any of the other promotions you’re doing right now to recover,” Sehun says. “Junmyeon-hyung, I think we can chalk this one up to stubborn pride instead of leader-negligence.” He laughs at Jongin’s expense, and sometimes Jongin really wants to punch Sehun, but Junmyeon’s lips are twitching into the tiniest of smiles so Jongin can’t be upset with him, this time.

“I have to call our manager about this, though,” Junmyeon says. “I can’t just let you keep living with an injury like that.” He sounds regretful, like he’s sorry he has to betray Jongin’s confidence, and Jongin rushes to reassure him about that, too.

“No, I know, I know, it’s-“ He licks at his lips. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, furrowing his brow, and Sehun sinks down into an armchair, satisfied that his work is done. Jongin steps past Junmyeon to gingerly sit on the other side of the couch, cringing at the pull of bruised muscle, and Junmyeon frets. “Jongin, I’m-“

“If you say you’re sorry,” Jongin says gruffly, looking down at his own knees because something about Junmyeon’s eyes when he’s anxious makes Jongin want to curl up in Junmyeon’s arms until he isn’t anymore, “then I’ll be mad.”

“All right,” Junmyeon says, gentle smile stealing across his face fully now. “I’ll call manager-hyung, and you stay right there.”

“Yes sir,” Jongin says, and when Junmyeon walks out of the room, Sehun pins him with knowing eyes. “What are you staring at?”

“Hopelessness,” Sehun replies, and Jongin doesn’t know exactly what Sehun is talking about but it makes him twist his hands angrily in the fabric of his tank shirt because Sehun’s such a smug asshole of a best friend.

“I hate you,” Jongin says, but it’s half-hearted at best.


“You’ll have to take the shot every morning before eating,” the doctor says, and Jongin nods wearily.

“Okay,” he says, “that’s simple enough.”

“But,” the doctor says, “you might want to choose a friend to help you.”

“Why?” Jongin asks him suspiciously, eyeing the demonstration needle he’s produced with sudden trepidation. The doctor looks far too pleased.

“Well,” he says, “you need to stick it right into your backsi-“

“I can do it myself,” Jongin replies hastily. “I’m very flexible. It will be fine.” He realizes he’s waving his hands for emphasis and lets them drop down uselessly to his sides. His back is sore, but he hopes this shot, some kind of miracle-drug for dancers that Eunhyuk swears by, eases it enough that he’ll make it through comeback rehearsals for the next two weeks until their week off. Two weeks is the maximum length of time he can take it, anyway.

“It does have a few… side effects,” the doctor adds, as he fills out the rest of his notes and preps a prescription for Jongin to get filled on the clinic’s third floor. “But nothing too limiting.”

“Yeah, yeah” Jongin says, and he imagines Junmyeon giving him that disapproving expression he saves for when Jongin is accidentally rude, and he quickly amends it with a “thanks, doctor.”

“If you experience anything really strange,” he says, “report back to me immediately.”

Jongin agrees, and accepts the prescription paper from the doctor’s hand. “Everything went efficiently?” Seunghwan asks, sounding not remotely interested in Jongin’s answer.

“Yep,” Jongin says, and that, he thinks, is that.

The smile Junmyeon offers him, when he returns back to the dorm with the small blue plastic medicine bag, is almost as big a reward as the assurance of lessened pain.


He takes the first shot at nine in the morning. He has to get on his hands and knees to administer it correctly, and his back aches, but it’s infinitely better than asking one of the others. He can see how that would go, in his head. ”Hey, Chanyeol, I need you to stick this needle in my butt. For science.” Yeah, no.

Sehun walks in on him right after he’s successfully given himself the shot, and screams. “This looks like the beginning of a gay fetish porn?”

“Do you watch a lot of gay fetish porn, maknae?” Baekhyun asks from the hallway, sing-songy and nasal and way too cheerful for 9AM, and Sehun scowls and leaves Jongin to wallow in his misery as he pulls his briefs back up and gets dressed for rehearsal.

At first, Jongin doesn’t notice that anything is out of the ordinary. Of course, there’s the looseness in his muscles that had been promised along with the first of the shots, but Jongin feels better than he has in months, and as he does his warm-up stretches, he thinks his back gives a literal sigh of relief. Then, though, as he reaches for his toes, he feels it. An itch under his skin that lingers, even when he reaches up to scratch at his arms and neck. It spreads, like fire, across his abdomen and down his thighs, until he feels the itch all over, an undeniable irritation that makes him screw his face up in confusion.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chanyeol is looking at him, caught between concern and amusement, as he leans too far into Jongin’s personal space. “Do you have to pee?”

“It’s the fleas,” Sehun says. “If only Jongin would shower regularly--”

“I’ll set your bed on fire,” Jongin says with a glower. “When you least expect it-”

“That’ll help kill any of the lice from when you plopped on it like you owned it this morning-”

“You’re the one who pushed me-”

“Children, please,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes. “It’s too early for this.” Baekhyun chuckles and buffs his nails on his tee.

Jongin sinks back into his stretches with a tiny frown, and tries to ignore the burn of that unidentifiable itch, focusing instead on the easy pull of the muscles in his back. It’s just a weird side effect of the medication, Jongin decides. It’s worth it not to feel the ache.

He blows some of the hair out of his face, trying not to think about how the bangs are unfortunately longer on the right, and scratches one last time at his neck. Then there’s a cool hand resting at the nape, like ice on the hot skin, dragging down between his shoulder blades before pulling away.

“Are you all right?” Junmyeon asks, and Jongin swallows. “Your skin is all flushed.”

“I’m…” Where Junmyeon’s hand had rested, there’s a soothing relief. “Fine, hyung,” he finishes, and turns to look up at Junmyeon through his loose fringe. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you’re sure,” Junmyeon says, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He reaches up, like he wants to press his slender fingers against Jongin’s forehead, but he catches himself at the last moment. He offers Jongin a crooked grin. “If you ever need anything, though, Jongin, I don’t want you to be afraid to ask.”

Jongin’s throat is so very dry, and the itch returns full force, even worse than before, as Junmyeon takes a step back. “I won’t be,” Jongin says, and Junmyeon sighs, relieved.

“Good,” he says, and then it’s time to practice.


The itch only gets more insistent as the day progresses. Jongin wants to crawl out of his skin, and worse than that, there’s a terribly familiar heat building in his belly that Jongin knows from embarrassing mornings when he wakes up just a bit too late to keep from making a mess in his briefs, or from when he quietly wraps fingers around himself when he’s sure Kyungsoo’s already asleep.

By the time they finish rehearsal, some hours later, Jongin’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. His cock hard and swollen in his underwear and his thighs are trembling. He excuses himself to the bathroom, the multiple stalls all empty, and tries to block out the way his panting breaths echo between the cement and tiles as he takes himself in hand.

He strokes quickly, trying to get it over with before anyone comes looking for him. He strokes his thumb over the head, picking up the precome he finds there and smoothing it down the vein on the underside, and he throws his head back at the feeling. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and moves his hand faster and faster, until his balls tighten and he releases all over his hand, a little bit of come dripping down to his wrist. It probably took three minutes, and that’s embarrassing, even for a Jongin who isn’t trying to impress anyone right now.

Only instead of finding relief in orgasm, Jongin is still hard, skin still burning hot. “No, no, no,” he whispers, and it sounds too loud in the bathroom. He shoves himself back inside his underwear, wincing as he traps his cock between his belly and the waistband of his briefs to make it easier to hide. He washes his hands twice in the sink, and then he zips up his long hoodie for good measure. There’s a steady thrum of panic lingering beneath the itch, because Jongin had thought he was past the age of inexplicable reactions and humiliating sexual responses. He guesses not.

When he gets back to the rehearsal room, everyone’s cleared out except Junmyeon, who’s waiting with his back to the door, bag over his shoulder and Jongin’s puffy coat in his hand.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Junmyeon asks, as soon as he turns to meet Jongin’s gaze. “You look…feverish.” He steps closer to Jongin, until he’s up in Jongin’s space, the same hand that had stopped from checking Jongin’s forehead earlier now unhesitating. “You feel feverish.”

“We’ve been dancing,” Jongin says, trying not to shudder at the feeling of Junmyeon’s cool hand against his hot skin. “I’m sweaty.” His blood is caught between rushing to his cheeks and rushing to his erection, which makes Jongin take two giant steps back away from Junmyeon, who immediately pulls his hand away.

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says. “I know you can be picky about touch.” That’s not… exactly true, it’s just that for a quick minute, just now, Jongin had wanted to-

“No, I… It’s…”

“The others are waiting for us in the van,” Junmyeon says, eyes on the ground.

Jongin’s heart is pumping so fast, and Jongin feels dizzy with… with something, and he’s not sure what it is, but it’s got something to do with Junmyeon. Still, the sooner they get home, the sooner Jongin can lock himself in the shower until this persistent hard-on goes away.

“Right,” Jongin says, blinking to clear his eyes. “Let’s go.”

The ride home is excruciating; Jongin caught between Junmyeon and the window, his body jerking every time Junmyeon’s thigh brushes his own, or Junmyeon’s elbow rubs against his, or really, any time Junmyeon breathes in his general direction.

He practically flies out of the car, Baekhyun making jokes about small bladders as Chanyeol claps, resembling a beached dolphin between that and his wild laughter. Once Jongin’s safely locked himself in the bathroom, he jacks himself off twice, finally going soft as the water turns cold.

“You’re alive,” Kyungsoo says, when Jongin sits down at the kitchen table, resting his head on the cool wood. Already he can feel the itch crawling back up his spine like slow, fat caterpillars, and spreading across his back and around his ribs. “We were worried about you.”

“I thought maybe you’d finally given in to some primal urge to become a marine animal,” Sehun says, tapping his chopsticks along the edge of the ceramic bowl in front of him. “Your lips have already started the transformation, so-“

Jongin blindly reaches around the table for something to throw and ends up clocking Sehun with a bottle of sriracha. “Why are we friends?”

“SM’s pavlovian training has made you a glutton for punishment?” Sehun shrugs, and takes a bite of his ricecake soup, a slice of ddeok disappearing into his mouth whole. “And I’m a great friend. I didn’t tell anyone what I walked in on this morning-“

“That’s a medication,” Jongin says, as Junmyeon walks into the kitchen, dropping into the seat next to him. Junmyeon’s hair is wet and flat and parted down the middle. “I’m taking it for my back.”

“Sure,” Sehun says, and Jongin makes a lewd gesture at him, even as the strange itch starts to once again be overwhelming.

Junmyeon’s wearing a hideous sweater, and it hangs big and loose around his shoulders, the collar revealing too much of pale skin of his neck and collarbones.

Jongin is far too aware of the way the cotton of his own shirt pulls and stretches across his shoulders.

“How is your back today?” Kyungsoo asks, and Junmyeon looks up and catches Jongin’s eye for a moment, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away again, fingers tangling in the sleeves of his sweater.

“Better,” Jongin says. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” The collar of Junmyeon’s sweater shifts again, and Jongin feels like he’s burning alive, that itch alive under his skin, making his palms sweat and reviving his erection. “I… have to go. To sleep.”

“Sure,” Sehun says, amused, and Jongin realizes he’s been staring at the exposed skin of Junmyeon’s neck, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t touch himself soon he’s going to explode. “Sleep.”

“One day,” Jongin says, quickly standing from his seat and smiling at Kyungsoo, who cheerfully smiles back, “I’ll get my revenge.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, and Jongin flees, not looking at Junmyeon as he closes the door to his room.

As soon as he's alone, he pushes his sweatpants down, not bothering to move them down further than mid-thigh. His cock is an angry red, and tender to the touch, raw from Jongin's previous wanking in the shower, but he sighs when he carefully grabs himself again, pushing back the foreskin with his thumb and rubbing the slit.

He comes for the fourth time that day, a dry orgasm, thinking of nothing in particular, and the itch still doesn't abate, but it's manageable now. He grabs tissues from his bedside and wipes at his hand, cleaning up the little mess there is, before lying down on his bed, sweatpants and underwear still hanging from his thighs. He pulls them up cautiously, trying not to touch himself, and he shivers from the coolness of his sheets beneath his overheated body.

He dozes for a while, and when he wakes, Kyungsoo is asleep in the bed next to him, lips parted and lightly wheezing the way he always does in his sleep, because he breathes with his mouth instead of his nose. Jongin glances at the clock. It's one in the morning. The numbers are blurry, kind of like Jongin is looking at them through a haze, and when he swallows, his throat is painfully dry.

He stumbles up out of his bed, and his sheets, which he doesn't remember getting under, tangle about his legs, clinging to the cotton of his sweatpants. He tries not to make any noise as he worms himself free, padding over to the door and out into the hallway. He has to push his hand to the wall to catch himself, because he's dizzy. It reminds him, a little, of how it feels to have the flu; lightheaded and hot and dizzy and confused, and Jongin wonders if his immune system has finally given in to illness. The muscles in his thighs are tight, though, and that angry itch is like a fire beneath his skin, and Jongin just needs water. Then he'll go back to bed and hope it isn't sickness instead of his back that keeps him in bed tomorrow.

The light in the kitchen is unexpectedly on. Junmyeon, still wearing the same navy sweater, with white rabbits and stitched diamonds in a repeating pattern around the chest, is leaning against the kitchen counter, and Jongin narrows his eyes to try to focus on him through the fog.

"Jongin?" he asks, and his voice is the same gentle lull that always makes Jongin inexplicably happy when he hears it. "Are you-"

"M'fine," Jongin manages, over his dry, dry throat, and he leans heavily against the doorframe as a rush of something overcomes him. If Jongin didn't know any better, he would almost think it was desire, but Jongin's never heard of a desire that made you feel sick instead of needy. Jongin feels a combination of both of things as his eyes finally catch Junmyeon's, his cock, unbelievably, stirring as he stands there, too weak to hold himself up. "Just want water."

"Oh!" Junmyeon says, spinning around and taking a glass from the cabinet, which gives Jongin time to admire the line of Junmyeon's shoulders, and the leanness of his legs. He feels a wave of nausea and he forces it down, palms suddenly sweaty and arousal pooling almost angrily in the pit of his belly.

Junmyeon opens the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap slowly. Jongin licks his lips as he tracks the movement of Junmyeon's fingers, suddenly seeing every movement in high relief, like a bizarre 3D movie. There's the loudest buzzing in his ears and he must be sicker than he thought, because all he wants to do is pull Junmyeon's fingers into his mouth and let his tongue wrap around the digits-

"Here," Junmyeon says, and he picks up the glass Jongin somehow hadn't seen him fill, and walks across the kitchen toward Jongin. It's in slow motion, almost, and Jongin takes a step forward, against his own volition. "Jongin, you're so flushed. Are you sure you're-"

Jongin doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but somehow, he finds his hand fisted in Junmyeon’s really fucking ugly sweater and he’s pulling their mouths together. He hears the glass hit the kitchen floor, too loud in the quiet dorm. Jongin’s other hand finds the hair at the back of Junmyeon’s neck, and he tilts his head a little, to get closer, as the press of Junmyeon’s lips sends a chill through his whole body, cooling the terrible tingling beneath his skin and filling him with a heady rush, instead.

Junmyeon’s mouth is soft, and wet, and his lips are smooth, and Jongin’s never really thought about kissing him, before, and that was clearly a mistake, because it feels so nice. Junmyeon’s mouth fits against his perfectly, thin lips melting against thick, and he can feel Junmyeon’s hands come up to clench at his biceps, sending waves of cool up his arms.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon says, or tries to say, but Jongin takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue between Junmyeon’s lips. Junmyeon doesn’t stop him; his warm mouth is welcoming, the same way everything about Junmyeon is always welcoming. His mouth tastes like strawberries, and Jongin wants to taste as much as he can, sliding along the back of Junmyeon’s teeth and the insides of his cheeks as Junmyeon sighs into him, his own tongue finally winding around Jongin’s. Jongin feels the itch receding as he pulls Junmyeon even closer.

But then Junmyeon seems to freeze, mouth stilling and muscles clenching, and he’s pushing at Jongin; pushing Jongin away. Jongin goes unwillingly, still trying to lean back in to recapture Junmyeon’s small, hot tongue as Junmyeon takes deep gasps of air. “Jongin, stop,” he rasps, and awareness suddenly seeps back into Jongin, and he’s conscious of the way his fingers have gotten caught in the weave of one of Junmyeon’s white rabbits, and of the way his lips are tingly and bruised.

Junmyeon’s lips are pink and swollen and slick, and his eyes are wide. Jongin’s heart, already beating too fast, seems to accelerate. “I-“ Words get stuck in Jongin’s throat, and he’s forcing his hand to let go of Junmyeon’s sweater, uncurling the fingers one by one until his hand is free, and then he’s falling backwards, until his back hits the wall right next to the doorway. “I’m-“

His body is furious at the separation, his cock hard against his belly and his skin itching so bad. The feverish feeling is back now, along with the haze that had faded when Jongin had… when Jongin had kissed Junmyeon.

Junmyeon is still looking at him, one hand coming up to touch his mouth as he stares, and Jongin’s stomach plummets. “Sorry,” he chokes out, and his whole body shivers with the overwhelming need to crush Junmyeon back into him, or to touch himself, or to do something. It’s hard to connect his thoughts, everything feeling disjointed, and it’s the barest shreds of self control that keep his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Why did you…” Junmyeon looks a little like he’s still in disbelief. Jongin can’t find any disgust, in Junmyeon’s expression, but there is this unidentifiable tightness around his eyes that Jongin can’t pinpoint.

“I can’t help it,” Jongin gasps, and Junmyeon steps closer, concern outweighing his shock. “I just want to-“ Hundreds of ways to end that sentence fly into Jongin’s head. I just want to push you down to your knees and put my cock in your mouth or I just want to get down on my knees and make you beg- “Don’t come closer, I can’t-“

“You’re sick,” Junmyeon says. “Let’s put you back to bed.” Junmyeon gulps, and Jongin’s eyes follow the bobbing of his adam’s apple with fascination, wondering how it would taste. “We can talk about this in the morning. Or not.” Junmyeon’s hand wraps around Jongin’s wrist, and Jongin whimpers. He bites down on his lip a moment too late to stifle the sound, and Junmyeon looks up at him. “Your eyes are dilated, Jongin-“ he says, and his mouth is… he smells so nice, and Jongin jerks his arm so that Junmyeon falls into him.

Now Junmyeon’s belly is against Jongin’s erection, and Jongin is caught between dying of mortification and being too aroused, too confused and itchy to even care.

Junmyeon’s breath hitches, and Jongin closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale. “Oh,” Junmyeon says, and Jongin is at the center of a volcano, molten, skin long gone, nothing but exposed nerve ends as Junmyeon’s free hand braces itself on the wall. “Oh.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Jongin chants, even as his hips thrust forward, seeking friction. He grinds against Junmyeon’s hip, feeling tears of frustration at the corner of his eyes as the itch intensifies.

“Shh,” Junmyeon says, voice raspy and low in a way that Jongin’s never heard it before. “I’ve got you.” And then Junmyeon’s hand, trembling just enough that Jongin can tell he’s more nervous than he lets on, sneaks up under Jongin’s shirt and slides up along his abs. “I’ve got you.”

The tips of Junmyeon’s fingers are like water in the middle of a desert, and every fiber of Jongin’s being keens with relief as they swirl back down, circling Jongin’s belly button, torturously light and slow. “More, please,” Jongin moans, almost a whisper, and Junmyeon shudders against him.

“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Okay.” Junmyeon’s hand hesitates for a moment at Jongin’s waistband, and Jongin lifts his hips up toward the touch. He registers that it doesn’t hurt his back, but it’s the faintest note as the rest of his mind zooms in on the downward crawl of that white hand, nails scratching the sensitive skin of his hipbone before Junmyeon’s got a hold of his dick and pulls him out. “Is this-“

“Hyung, please,” Jongin says, and he opens his eyes. Junmyeon is looking up at him, watching his face, dark red stealing across pale cheekbones, and Jongin leans down and kisses him as Junmyeon’s hand starts to move.

Jongin feels like he’s crawling out of his skin. He licks at Junmyeon’s lips, mouth slipping to the side to taste the skin of his cheeks and chin, and Junmyeon’s breath is as quick and hot as Jongin’s own. He finds Junmyeon’s mouth again, desperately sucking Junmyeon’s tongue into his mouth as Junmyeon quickens the pace, and Jongin wants to pull Junmyeon even closer, if that’s even possible.

Junmyeon is so soft and warm, and Jongin is coming apart.

It doesn’t take long. Junmyeon’s hand is at an awkward angle, but boys know how to touch themselves and Junmyeon quickly figures out that Jongin likes it rough; that Jongin likes it when Junmyeon cups his palm and rubs relentlessly across the head and then drags the wetness down onto the shaft so he can go faster. He lets Jongin thrust upward into his grip, and when Jongin comes, it’s like he’s been dropped into an ice bath, the itching receding and leaving Jongin feeling like himself again.

He breathes heavy, and Junmyeon tugs his hand free of Jongin’s sweatpants and moves back. Jongin, whose eyes had fluttered closed again as orgasm had ripped through him, opens them again. Junmyeon is looking down at his palm, right hand still out in front of him, covered in Jongin’s come. The rest of it, Jongin noticed, is white against the navy of Junmyeon’s ugly sweater. He thinks it might have gotten into one of the rabbit’s eyes.

“Hyung,” Jongin says, and Junmyeon’s head whips up to stare at him, eyes trailing up and down Jongin before settling around Jongin’s nose. Jongin wonders if he looks as wrecked as he feels. “Hyung, I-“

Junmyeon opens his mouth to speak, but then he closes it again, and Jongin thinks the look in Junmyeon’s eyes right now is fear. That’s the feeling creeping up from Jongin’s stomach right now, too, as the thrill of orgasm fades and reality comes rushing back. The itch is gone, so all that’s left for Jongin to focus on is the way Junmyeon’s eyelashes are so dark against his skin and the dried saliva, Jongin’s saliva on Junmyeon’s chin. His gaze falls lower, past the mess of Junmyeon’s jumper and…

Junmyeon is hard. “Hyung?” Jongin licks at his lips, and tastes strawberries.

“Oh my god,” Junmyeon says. “What have I…” Junmyeon takes another giant step back, butt hitting the table, and Jongin doesn’t know what to do. His head is clear, but he isn’t thinking clearly. Junmyeon had… And Jongin had…

Jongin blinks and Junmyeon is gone, brushing past Jongin and out of the kitchen, leaving Jongin slumping against the wall and wondering what happened.

He can hear the sound of the shower starting, and he reaches one hand up to his chest to clutch at the sweat-damp fabric above his heart. It’s beating wildly with confusion.

He’s careful not to wake Kyungsoo as he crawls back into bed, sated but anxious. The blankets are no longer too warm for the December night.

His sleep that night is restless, even though it’s the most pain-free his body has been in months.


Jongin wakes up in the morning feeling groggy. His back aches terribly when he rolls over. The previous night is a blur, and Jongin doesn’t want to get up but he can smell kimchi and egg, and he knows he’s turned his alarm clock off at least twice already.

This time, Jongin makes sure to lock the door before he pulls down his briefs to administer the shot. It stings a little, but then he feels the easing of his back muscles and that feels more nice than the shot feels bad. His thighs feel strained, when he leans back on his heels, and Jongin's too tired to figure out why. "I slept terribly," he mutters to himself, and then he shrugs. He smells bad, too, and maybe he should shower.

He wanders out of his bedroom, toward the laughing voices in the kitchen. He can hear Chanyeol’s shrieking laughter harmonizing with Baekhyun’s nasal chuckles, and he doesn’t have to hear one of Sehun’s disapproving grunts to know he’s looking at them disdainfully.

“Look who only has ten minutes for breakfast before we have to leave!” Baekhyun says, when he walks in. “You look like roadkill.”

“With that haircut, he can’t really help it,” Sehun stage-whispers conspiratorially to Baekhyun, who grins, and Jongin ignores them to look around the table. Their leader is missing, which is strange, because usually Junmyeon wakes up first and washes the rice first thing.

"Jongin, you're not five years old," Kyungsoo says, when Jongin sinks exhaustedly into a chair. "When you finish with a glass, either wash it, or at least put it on the counter by the sink. Don't throw it on the ground."

Sehun chortles with glee around a mouthful of rice, and Jongin shoots him a quick glare before turning back to Kyungsoo with confusion. He's not all the way awake yet, and nothing Kyungsoo says is clicking. "What?"

"I know you got up last night, because I heard you come back to bed, and there was a spilled glass of water on the floor this morning when we got up. Chanyeol almost tripped."

"He doesn't need the water for that," Sehun says, and then shouts when Chanyeol uses those long legs to kick him from the other side of the table. Baekhyun covers his mouth with his hand as he laughs, and Kyungsoo sighs.

"I don't remember-" Only he does. Jongin can feel the bile at the back of his throat as he suddenly remembers, the events of last night filtering back through his sleepy brain in crystal clear imagery. Junmyeon's mouth, slick and wet against his own as his hand-- "Oh," Jongin says faintly. "I'm sorry." His stomach is going to rebel. He stands back up from the table. "Excuse me."

He makes it to the doorway when he crashes into someone. Strawberries. Junmyeon. He can hear Sehun's laugh again as he trips backwards in his haste to put distance between himself and their leader.

Junmyeon looks as terrible as Jongin feels, dark circles under his eyes and lips pale. He's not meeting Jongin's gaze. "Good morning, Jongin," he says, and his voice cracks. The tension is thick enough that Jongin feels like he could choke on it.

"Morning," he mumbles, and Junmyeon bites on his lower lip. Jongin remembers what that lip had felt like, when he'd sucked it in between his own, and that's... not good. Nothing is good, right now, but especially not that. "I'm going... " He gives up on an excuse, pushing past Junmyeon and returning to his room to change. His hands shake as he pulls a shirt over his head, static electricity making it cling to his hair, which he flattens with frustration. Fuck, he thinks, and then he takes a steadying gulp of air. Fuck.

It's not until Jongin is pulling on his jeans that he realizes that the itch is back, clawing at him from the inside like a caged tiger trying to break free.


They don’t look at each other once the entire day. Jongin doggedly forces himself not to dwell on the itch, or the way it makes his penis push hard and unforgiving against his jeans.

The fever sets in around three in the afternoon, Jongin sweating and shaking hard enough that the choreographer for the comeback has Jongin sit out.

“You already know the dance,” she says. “I’ll just see if I can keep Sehun from running into people.”

Sehun pulls a face at him, and Jongin barely manages to make one back. Even the fabric of his jeans is enough friction to have him on the edge of coming, and his vision is hazy, like it had been last night in the kitchen.

Worse, it seems that his body has picked Junmyeon as the focus of all of this, and he watches Junmyeon, sweaty and determined, work through the choreography again and again as Jongin curls up into a ball and tries to find some kind of calm. It’s terrifying, the way his body feels completely out of his control.

“Time to go home,” Kyungsoo says, tugging on Jongin’s left arm while Chanyeol grabs the other. “You’re like a furnace.”

“A good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine,” Jongin mumbles, and hopes it’s true. “I can stand on my own, you know.”

“If this is a side effect of that new medication you’re on,” Baekhyun says, “perhaps a break would be better.”

A side effect. Jongin’s mind grinds to a halt, turning the words over and over in his head. The doctor had said to come see him immediately, if there were strange side effects. Jongin thinks this counts. But Jongin’s back feels amazing and he’d learned the choreography easy before the fever had taken him down. He can’t decide if it’s a fair trade of maladies.

“I dunno,” Sehun says. “Jongin’s always dreamed of being hot, and now his dreams are becoming a reality.”

“You’re actually a terrible friend,” Jongin says to Sehun as Baekhyun rests a hand on the back of his neck. It hurts. “Don’t touch my skin.” Baekhyun immediately removes his hand. It hadn’t felt like it had when Junmyeon had touched him, that icy balm.


“Sehun, you’re so pessimistic,” Sehun says, in a voice Jongin thinks is supposed to be Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol shoves him, careful not to move Jongin when he does. “But the moment I exercise optimism…” Sehun shakes his head.

Baekhyun pats him commiserating. “You can never make everyone happy, maknae,” Baekhyun tells him sagely, and they walk ahead quickly. Junmyeon is close behind them. He pauses for a moment, at the door, gaze flicking up to meet Jongin’s for the briefest of seconds, before he frowns and quickly looks away again.

“What did you do to Junmyeon-hyung?” Kyungsoo asks. “If you weren’t sick-“

“I am though,” Jongin says quickly, and then coughs for good measure. “Very sick.” Kyungsoo eyes him, like he’s debating his punishment anyway, and Jongin sighs. “I’ll fix it, when I figure out how to.”

“Good enough,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol nods too, hair flopping up and down with the movement.

The ride home is quiet, and Jongin tries not to look in Junmyeon’s direction as his body thrums with that infuriating itch.

Jongin is probably going to go nuts, and he hopes he hasn’t ruined his friendship with Junmyeon over this thing he can’t understand.


Jongin looks up at the sound of the door opening and closing. He's expecting Kyungsoo, not Junmyeon. He thinks Junmyeon can read that in his face.

"I asked Kyungsoo to give us a bit. He's reading in the living room. We should talk," Junmyeon says. "Because today was bad." Junmyeon is doing that thing where he blames himself, again. Jongin can see it in the hunched set of Junmyeon's shoulders.

It was bad. Jongin hadn’t realized how much he and Junmyeon touch. Junmyeon’s nudging elbows when Jongin falls asleep at the dinner table or Junmyeon’s hand on the back of his neck when he leans over, exhausted. Even though Junmyeon’s always tried to stop himself, he can’t help but touch, and Jongin has gotten accustomed to it.

The absence of that familiarity, along with the way his body is so very hot and longing for something that Jongin is afraid to give it, has been enough to make this, probably, one of the worst days Jongin’s had in a very long time.

At least his back doesn’t hurt, he thinks wryly.

"It's my fault," Jongin says. "I made you-"

"You didn't make me do anything," Junmyeon says. "You were sick, and I took advantage of-"

"You helped me," Jongin says. "I was going to combust and you saved me."

"That's exaggerating it a bit, don't you think?" Junmyeon says. "I was a teenager once, and trust me, blue balls won't make you combust." His cheeks are bright red as he speaks, and he's standing awkwardly with his feet a little apart. His arms are crossed defensively, and Jongin doesn't often see Junmyeon like this. Junmyeon is always more than a little bit awkward, but usually, Junmyeon is too caught up in being helpful or being leader to let himself curl back like this. Jongin guiltily thinks it's all his doing.

"It's not blue balls," Jongin says. "It's... there's something wrong with me. It's like I can't control myself." Junmyeon opens his mouth to speak. "You don't understand. I feel... like... aroused," he whispers the word, humiliated but needing to explain himself, so that the look on Junmyeon's face goes away, "all day. Like I'm going to explode if I don't..." He puffs out his cheeks and stares hard at the floor, like it'll help him come up with the right words. "It started yesterday, and without you, I..."

"I don't understand," Junmyeon answers.

"I need your help," Jongin says, when he gathers enough courage to look back up at Junmyeon, who looks more perplexed than self-flagellating. "It only stops when you-" Touch me, Jongin finishes mentally, his mouth unwilling to form the words.

Jongin doesn’t think this is what Junmyeon had been expected, when he’d told Jongin to come to him the next time he had a problem.

"Me?" Junmyeon's breath is quick, but he looks calm, which is more for Jongin can say for himself. Just being in the same room with Junmyeon, but not touching him, is making Jongin's body go haywire, the same as it's been all day, but worse. More insistent, maybe because they're alone and because Jongin's been suppressing it all day and now he can't anymore.

"I think it's the medication," Jongin whispers as Junmyeon sits down cautiously next to him on the bed. "I think when I… when I come, the itch stops for a little while, or… But there's nothing else I can take that makes my back feel okay enough to dance."

"What's it feel like?" Junmyeon asks, settling one hand on Jongin's knee and kneading, the same way he's always done when trying to get Jongin to open up to him, only now it feels like torture, making Jongin wish he would slide that hand up a little higher and touch Jongin somewhere else, the way he had before.

"Like a million needles right underneath my skin," Jongin says, as Junmyeon's hand starts to toy with the inseam of his jeans. "Or like I'm burning alive." Jongin swallows. "I don't know what to do, but it hurts."

"Okay," Junmyeon says, and Jongin thinks he's talking to himself more than he's talking to Jongin.

"Okay?" Jongin asks, and then Junmyeon's fingers are smoothing out an imaginary crease in the denim, along the inside of Jongin's thigh. Jongin's so hard he can feel the zipper digging into him as he strains. He forces himself not to move.

"I don't want you to hurt if I can stop it." Junmyeon's voice is soft, and hesitant, and it takes a moment before Jongin figures out that Junmyeon is going to help him, and he almost sobs with relief as Junmyeon's hand reaches for his zipper. "Let me," he says, and Jongin whines in the back of his throat as Junmyeon pulls him out.

"Please," he says, and Junmyeon sighs, licking his lips as he just looks at Jongin. It's embarrassing, Jongin thinks, how hard he already is, throbbing and wet, a tiny pearl of precome forming at his tip in front of Junmyeon's eyes. But Junmyeon's not looking at Jongin like Jongin is a child making a fool of himself. Something in his gaze is almost... Jongin's not sure, but maybe it's hungry.

Junmyeon's hand is better, this time; more certain, maybe, bringing Jongin to the brink and over it faster than Jongin had been prepared. He manages to warn Junmyeon, who cups his hand and catches the release with steady eyes, even though his neck is flushed. He wipes it on a tissue, and then gapes in shock as Jongin doesn't soften. "It just... stays hard?"

Jongin's skin is alight with that itch. That same damn itch, and it's like his body craves Junmyeon and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Yes," Jongin says, letting his hair fall into his eyes. "Last night... that was the fifth time."

"I see," Junmyeon says, and then his hand slides deeper into Jongin's underwear, to stroke his balls. Jongin presses his lips together as Junmyeon lingers there. "Does it feel good, to keep touching yourself?" He's talking to Jongin like he'd talked to Jongin the last time Jongin'd had a problem-- when Jongin had been nervous about their debut performance and Junmyeon had talked him through it even though Jongin could tell he was also a nervous wreck himself.

That's just like now, Jongin thinks, only now, Junmyeon's got a hand around his balls and Jongin's coming a second time without Junmyeon even touching his cock. "No," Jongin answers. "But it does when you do it."

Junmyeon gives him a wan smile, and Jongin wonders if Junmyeon is really okay with this. With touching Jongin, who he probably doesn't see as anything more than a friend, or maybe even a little brother, like this. He wonders if Junmyeon will wash his hands twice with soap in the bathroom when this is over like Jongin had yesterday after rehearsal, torn between confused and disgusted.

He's not expecting the first tentative lick, even though he'd watched Junmyeon move to straddle his knees and lower his lips to Jongin's cock. His hips buck up against his will, because he's never been touched like this before. He's never been touched before, in general, by anyone other than himself and by Junmyeon, the other night. He'd never had the time to experiment with that sort of stuff, and now he wonders how he could ever have skipped out on something like this.

Junmyeon's mouth had been slick and hot against his own when they were kissing, but nothing compares to how slick and hot it is now, around Jongin's dick. Jongin's mouth opens in a silent scream as Junmyeon carefully bobs his head lower, taking more of Jongin into his mouth as Jongin grabs two large handfuls of his blanket. "Hyung," he whispers, and Junmyeon groans around him at the sound of Jongin's voice. The vibrations of Junmyeon's voice feel almost unbearably good, and Jongin, who has been hard all day, trying to ignore the itch beneath his skin and the ache between his legs, feels himself falling apart faster than he'd ever thought possible. "Hyung, it's-" It's too much maybe, or it's not enough; Jongin's not sure if he's capable of knowing the difference as Junmyeon's tongue laps at the underside of his cock, pressing harder where he vein meets the tip, at the sensitive place there, making it impossible for Jongin to breathe.

One of Junmyeon's hands comes up to press down at Jongin's hip, holding him to the bed, while the other curls about the base of him, fisting what his mouth can't reach. The fire reaches new heights in Jongin's blood, singing the veins as it flows through his body, and Jongin peels one of his hands free to grip at Junmyeon's hair. It's like an anchor, and the smooth strands between his fingers remind Jongin that this is real, not some crazy dream that will have Jongin waking up on soiled sheets and praying Kyungsoo is sill asleep.

Junmyeon pulls up for a breath, and the cool air makes Jongin hiss. "Is it okay?" Junmyeon asks, and Jongin's tongue is too heavy to make words, so he just nods and hopes Junmyeon understands that means he's never felt something this amazing in his life, and also that the feeling of tension that's been bothering him all day is surrendering to Junmyeon's mouth.

He forces himself up on his elbow, and it takes all of his will power not to groan loud enough to gain the attention of the entire dorm. It's just Junmyeon, he tries to tell himself. Just Junmyeon in a pair of jeans that are too big for him and another sweater with Santa's face on it that is so ugly that one of SM coordinators must have given it to him because even Junmyeon's taste isn't that bad. It's just Junmyeon, with his pale skin and concern furrowed eyebrows and silly ankle socks that he wears even with boots. Except... Junmyeon is looking up at him, those gentle eyes of his dark with something inexplicable, his lips stretched sinfully around Jongin's girth. Jongin can see the outline of himself through Junmyeon's cheek, and can see how hard Junmyeon's mouth works to take more of him inside, and just the idea of that is enough to send Jongin slipping and tumbling into the hardest orgasm he's ever experienced.

Junmyeon's mouth eases him through it, milking him with tiny sucks and licks, and Jongin thinks he'll go soft, now, like yesterday, but he doesn't. He only gets harder, but he's also oversensitive, and it's too much. He tugs gently at Junmyeon's hair, and Junmyeon looks up at him, letting him go with a wet noise that has Jongin's stomach clenching, and a little bit of Jongin's come mixed with saliva still connects Junmyeon's lower lip with his cock as Junmyeon speaks.

"Again?" Junmyeon asks, voice raw, and Jongin releases Junmyeon's hair to grab at his arm and pull him up.

The denim of Junmyeon's jeans drags against his dick as Junmyeon melts into him, and Jongin doesn't care because now Junmyeon is close enough to kiss. Jongin lifts himself up with his abs to reach Junmyeon's mouth, and Junmyeon melts into the kiss, following Jongin back down as his abs give out, his whole body feeling overtaxed and taunt from having been so tense all day.

Jongin is surprised when Junmyeon takes over, licking at the back of Jongin's teeth, and Jongin can taste himself on Junmyeon's tongue. He thrusts up, and is even more surprised when Junmyeon pushes back against him. Junmyeon's cock digs into his hipbone, and Jongin likes the mewl Junmyeon makes into Jongin's mouth when Jongin readjusts so they're lined up against each other.

"Jongin," Junmyeon says, and Jongin swallows his own name as Junmyeon starts to grind against him. The denim is too rough, and Jongin grunts with discomfort.

"Hyung, stop," Jongin says, and Junmyeon immediately halts, lifting himself up and away from Jongin faster than Jongin can blink.

"I'm sorry," Junmyeon says immediately, eyes glassy and mouth wet with Jongin's spit. "That's not exactly helping you; I got carried away, and-"

"No," Jongin says, impatient to feel Junmyeon's weight against him again, the itch already returning in the space between them. "The denim."

"What?" Junmyeon seems to have been carrying on his own internal tirade against himself, and Jongin swallows at the helpless look on Junmyeon's face at Jongin's interruption.

"The jeans hurt," Jongin says, flushing at how needy he tone is. He averts his eyes, to look down at himself, red and throbbing and just as needy as he sounds. "Take them off and come back." Junmyeon stares at him, for a moment, lost, before he lifts his hands up and rubs at his face.

"Right," Junmyeon says. "Of course." His whole body is shaking as he stands up from the bed and fumbles with his jeans. Jongin takes advantage of the space to push off his own, along with his briefs, and looks back over at Junmyeon in time to see Junmyeon's jeans hit the floor. Long, lean lines, Jongin thinks. Not like a dancer. More like a painting. The itch is crawling up his throat, and Jongin makes a desperate whine that makes Junmyeon laugh, shakily. "I'm coming, Jongin. Give me a second to get over myself."

Junmyeon rests his knee on the bed, before pausing and standing back up. Jongin blinks in confusion, almost suffocating on his desire, and watches as Junmyeon walks over to the door and locks it.

Anyone could have walked in on Junmyeon, bent over Jongin with Jongin's dick in his mouth. The thought has Jongin wrapping a hand around himself and stroking down twice as Junmyeon watches. "This wasn't in the leader job description," Junmyeon says to himself, and then his thighs are on either side of Jongin's hips and his tongue is back inside of Jongin's mouth, and they are finally, finally pressed together skin to skin.

As Jongin is coming to find is always the case, Junmyeon's skin against his makes the burn retreat, leaving behind only pleasure as Junmyeon begins a slow rock, the friction enough to have Jongin moaning piteously into Junmyeon's kisses as Junmyeon guides him. Jongin grips at Junmyeon's hips, hard enough to bruise, but Junmyeon doesn't complain. "Slow, Jongin, slow," he says. "You don't want to rub yourself raw." His voice is anything but soothing to Jongin right now; not when it comes along with Junmyeon's lips brushing against the shell of Jongin's ear and his breath hot against Jongin's jaw.

"Hyung, I'm going to-" Jongin opens his eyes and meets Junmyeon's gaze, and it's like the whole world stills, for a moment, as Junmyeon looks back at him, gaze crystal clear.

"Come," Junmyeon says, and Jongin does, wet and sticky between them. Junmyeon keeps thrusting, slowly, and Jongin gasps for air as his hands scratch at Junmyeon's back. Junmyeon bites down on Jongin's lip as his own release strikes, and Jongin feels, finally, like he can breathe.

His whole body trembles with exhaustion, and Junmyeon is trembling, too, on top of him. "Thank you," he says, softly, and Junmyeon is silent, for a few moments, before he buries his face in the hollow of Jongin's shoulder, lips pressed to the skin above Jongin's collarbone.

"You're welcome," Junmyeon says, and then he's getting up. Jongin resists the urge to drag him back down; to keep Junmyeon on top of himself like a blanket. He's asked enough of Junmyeon, he thinks to himself, and swallows around a tightness in his throat that has nothing to do with that stupid itch at all.

Junmyeon takes tissues and wipes Jongin clean, pouring a bit of the water in a glass beside Jongin's bed onto a few wadded up ones to do a thorough job of it, before wiping himself clean, too. He pulls Jongin's clothes up, too, Jongin catching on and zipping up his own trousers as Junmyeon pulls his own jeans back on.

"There's..." Jongin is feeling kind of mortified as he points at Junmyeon's sweater, jizz all over Santa's face.

"You're determined to ruin all my sweaters, aren't you?" Junmyeon says, attempting levity, and Jongin makes himself laugh as Junmyeon opens the window, pulling off his sweater and balling it up in his hands after he's propped it open with the wooden block they keep there for that purpose. "For the smell," he explains, and Jongin is going to melt right into his now sweaty bedsheets.

"Right," he says. Junmyeon twists his hands together. "Really," Jongin says. "Thank you. For. You know, everything."

"That's what leaders are for," Junmyeon replies, but he won't look at Jongin. The words make Jongin's chest ache, for some reason, but he shoves that down as Junmyeon unlocks the door. "Don't stay up too late tonight," Junmyeon says. "We've got rehearsal in the morning."

"Yes, hyung," Jongin says, as Junmyeon leaves him in the room alone, body spent but mind far from relaxed.

He goes for water, a few minutes later, and Kyungsoo looks up from his book. “Did you work things out?” Sehun and Junmyeon’s door is closed. He can’t hear anything, which means Sehun’s got his headphones in, and Junmyeon isn’t trying to force him into conversation.

“I’m not sure,” Jongin says, and he pretends like his hands don’t shake at all as he pours water from the bottle into the same glass Junmyeon had dropped last night.




December 2012

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