Work Text:
Jaemin’s three fingers deep inside of Jeno when he first hears him say it.
“Jaemin—can you—can you call me pretty?”
Jeno’s face is hot, a mix of the flush of sex and the burn of humiliation, and he digs his fingers into the sheets of their bed.
“What?” Jaemin says, and when he pauses on working his fingers inside of Jeno, Jeno lets out a tiny whine.
“Sorry,” Jeno sputters. “It’s stupid.”
Jaemin loves Jeno like this, loves him desperate and squirming under Jaemin’s gaze and pleading for more, always more. Forever greedy.
“Nothing’s stupid, baby.” Jaemin’s voice is almost a coo, even as he curls his fingers forward, watching Jeno’s stomach clench. “No secrets with me, remember?”
“Call me pretty?” Jeno repeats, with more confidence, his eyes pleading. “I want to be pretty for you.” The words slip out, like it's something Jeno’s been rehearsing saying for weeks.
Jaemin shakes a little as he pulls out his fingers, breathing shallow as he tries to control himself. “Oh, Jeno,” he sighs, lining up his cock with Jeno’s entrance, letting him wrap his legs around his waist, “you should know you’re the prettiest in the world to me.” He shifts a little, lets Jeno gasp and get used to the sensation of Jaemin inside him before he starts moving. “So fucking gorgeous, so pretty, so perfect, all mine, right?”
Jeno nods, teeth digging into his bottom lip. The way his eyelashes fall against his face, he looks almost like a doll, a figure crafted to perfection. It leaves Jaemin eager to destroy him. He’s never quite been able to get over the sensation of looking at Jeno and finding himself overcome with the desire to ruin him for everyone else.
“You want to be pretty for me, yeah?” He’s grinding into Jeno now, almost gentle about it, fucking him deep and slow. “Want to be my sweet little doll?”
“Yeah, Jaemin, please,” Jeno murmurs, words half slurred from lust and embarrassment.
Jaemin thumbs over Jeno’s waist, the flat plane of his stomach, the dip of his hips. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Always,” Jeno turns his head to the side. “Harder, please. Faster.”
Jaemin speeds up again, digs his nails into Jeno’s skin, trying to give him that edge of pain he knows Jeno likes.
(A memory flashes to him, of their second time, in the confines of Jaemin’s old apartment, Jeno looking at him with flushed cheeks and wet eyes. “Make it hurt,” he’d pleaded, “Just a bit. I like it rough.”
That was when Jaemin had fallen in love.)
He kisses Jeno's neck, mumbling pretty, over and over again, sucking marks into the skin. “Such a pretty boy. Pretty baby,” he says, starting to chase his orgasm, ruck up his hips and shove Jeno against the mattress. “Pretty princess,” he tacks on, without much thought to it—but but that’s what makes Jeno come, trembling and pleading as his untouched cock spills all over his stomach.
They don’t speak much of it when they go to bed that night, just a hushed thanks from Jeno after he returns from the shower. Jaemin closes his eyes and dreams of Jeno, pleading to be pretty, pretty for him.
—
Then—the panties. The panties are what make Jaemin snap.
“Pretty” is a pleasant discovery, something that falls into their practiced relationship with ease.
Jaemin has grown into a new habit, a habit of murmuring pretty into Jeno’s ear when he sneaks up behind him, just to feel the raise of the skin on his neck and listen to the whines it solicits.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jeno will complain, frowning and blushing. “You always use things like this against me.” Then he’ll turn around, and ask Jaemin to say it again. They both know what he really wants. Jaemin just has to coax it from him sometimes. These sort of scenarios usually end in a compromising position—Jeno, bent over the arm of the couch, or on his knees wiping the drool away from his mouth, or reaching for the paper towels after he comes into Jaemin’s hand, pressed up against the kitchen counter.
Jeno’s never been good at asking for what he wants. It always happens like this, Jaemin testing the waters, rocking the boat, until he figures out just what Jeno is asking for. Jeno prefers just to communicate without words. A nuzzle against Jaemin’s neck when he wants a kiss, walking circles around the kitchen table when he’s stressed out, a pleading stare at Jaemin when he’s hungry.
And now, it seems, a pair of black lace panties that peek over the waistband of his jeans, when he wants—well, this time, Jaemin hasn’t entirely figured out what Jeno wants yet.
Jaemin thinks perhaps he’s just imagining things when he first sees them, as Jeno reaches for a glass in the kitchen cupboard, and his shirt (which was already a size too small) rides up. Jaemin, sipping on his coffee, makes a noise from the back of his throat that gets Jeno to turn around.
“Hm?” Jeno says, playing innocent and gentle, as always. Jaemin’s eyes drift to Jeno’s waistline, trying to spot the intricate lace poking out of the denim.
“Nothing,” Jaemin says. He must be going crazy. Putting his mug down on the table, he gestures Jeno closer. “Come here.”
Jeno obeys in an instant, bounding across the kitchen to plop himself in Jaemin’s lap, settling himself without second thought. Jaemin hadn’t even said to sit on his lap, yet here Jeno is, warm and breathing and right here, just for him. Up close, Jaemin notices his face is flushed, and his fingers twitch with anxiety.
“What is it?” Jeno asks, right as Jaemin snakes a hand around Jeno's back, thumbing at the waistband of his jeans. There’s a rush every time he touches Jeno’s bare skin—he will never tire of it, having Jeno in the palm of his hand. Jeno’s biting his lip, as if he knows just what Jaemin is looking for.
“Jeno.” Jaemin’s fingertips snag on the coarse material of the lace, and he smiles. “Are you wearing something special today?”
Jeno’s eyes widen, and his face molds into a pout before he buries it in Jaemin’s shoulder. “Don’t laugh,” he mumbles. “I knew it was stupid. I just thought—”
“Thought it’d make you pretty?” Jaemin finishes in a low voice. He feels Jeno’s nod against his shoulder. “It’s not stupid, you know that. Just pretty. My pretty boy, dressing up for me, right?”
“So mean,” Jeno whines, pulling his head off of Jaemin’s shoulder.
“This isn’t mean.” Jaemin raises his eyebrows, and brings his hands to Jeno’s front, fiddling with the button of his jeans. “You know what me being mean is like. Plus,” he pulls at the underwear’s hem just a bit and lets it snap back down, “I really do mean it. You’re so pretty like this. Even prettier knowing it's just for me. C’mon, show me.”
“Show you?” Jeno fidgets. “But—breakfast.” He glances at Jaemin’s coffee, sitting on the table, getting colder by the second.
“Fuck breakfast.” With a snap, the button comes undone, and then the zipper, the black lace revealing itself like there’s a curtain parting. Arousal floods Jaemin just from the sight of it—it’s almost terrifying what an effect Jeno can have on him.
“Bedroom,” Jeno protests, stepping off of Jaemin’s lap even as Jaemin tries to pull the waistband down.
“No,” Jaemin says. “Show me here.”
“In the kitchen?” complains Jeno, his delicate fingers teasing at his waist. There’s a little black bow at the front of the panties, Jaemin can see it now that the jeans are unzipped—he thinks he might be salivating.
Jaemin laughs, biting his bottom lip. “When has being in the kitchen ever stopped you? You almost desecrated our countertops last week.”
“It’s just—embarrassing. When it’s like this. With you staring at me like that.” Jeno’s eyes meet his, and Jaemin wonders what his own expression must look like. Something hungry, he assumes, because when he looks at Jeno right now, that’s what he feels. Hungry. Desperate to consume, and take, and claim.
“But you like it embarrassing, baby.” Jaemin spreads his legs a little wider, tries to exude the confidence he knows turns Jeno on so much. “You got yourself all pretty for me, so show it off.”
“Okay. Okay, fine. But no laughing, if it ends up looking stupid.” The corners of Jeno’s mouth curl up in that way that Jaemin fell in love with so long ago, a self-satisfied smile that can only come from basking in Jaemin’s attention.
“It won’t,” Jaemin says, finding his breath caught in his throat as Jeno stands in front of him, pulling his jeans down and stepping out of them until they become a crumpled mound on the floor. “Oh, hell. Jeno.”
Jeno stands before him, face hot and pretty with the thrill of exposing himself to Jaemin. The panties are black lace all over, nothing hiding his hardening cock that sits heavy within them—but they fit so well on the curve of his thighs, his hips, drawing Jaemin’s eyes up to the tiny line of his waist. His still-socked feet, wearing those pizza-print socks Donghyuck got him for his birthday, tuck inward, and he rolls on his heels a little, looking down at the floor. Jaemin knows Jeno is strong and well-built, but something about the sight of him in an item so delicate brings out the Jeno that Jaemin loves so much. Pretty, and perfect, fragile just for him.
“Turn around,” orders Jaemin, and Jeno follows without question, turning as Jaemin’s eyes soak in the sight before him: the curve of Jeno’s ass covered by perfect, seductive black lace. There’s something thick in Jaemin’s throat, and he finds himself flushing, face going hot just from looking at Jeno like this. “Pretty,” he says, voice far quieter than he intended.
“You dont think it’s… I don’t know. Weird? Cheesy?” Jeno chews on his bottom lip, but he moves towards Jaemin again, close enough that Jaemin can grab his ass and slide his fingers under the lace just to see how it feels.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s perfect.” Jaemin’s already hard under his sweatpants, and he was going to make breakfast, but if he doesn’t fuck Jeno right now—he might go crazy.
He yanks Jeno closer by the thighs, and pushes Jeno’s shirt up, trailing kisses down his stomach, along the faint line of his happy trail. It’s enough that he has to slump off the chair as he kisses the tiny little bow on the front of the underwear, and then starts to mouth over Jeno’s cock through the lace, which is so hard it’s starting to push past the waistband.
Jeno lets out a shivering noise, hands flying to Jaemin’s hair, and Jaemin looks up at him with a wicked grin.
Thirty minutes later, after Jaemin’s fucked him over the countertop, underwear abandoned in a crumpled pile on the floor, Jeno looks at him, face warm, a twinkle in his eye. “I think I’m going to order another set of lingerie.”
Jaemin’s mouth waters.
—
“I think I might have overdone it,” Jeno says from the bathroom. Jaemin can’t see his face, but he can picture it, the wrinkle of concern as he stares at himself in the mirror. Like a sad little puppy. “I kind of look like a cartoon dominatrix.”
Jaemin snorts. “I’m sure you do not, babe.” His fingers keep wrestling with the bedsheets, as he sits and waits. He wants to see, more than anything, what Jeno looks like right now. Jeno had refused to even show which lingerie set he had bought, insistent on it being a surprise. He bites his tongue. Jaemin hates surprises, and he hates waiting, which he’s been doing for the past twenty minutes as Jeno wrangles on whatever had arrived in a mysterious black package this morning.
“Just like last time,” Jeno says, “you have to promise not to laugh if it looks stupid.”
“It’s not going to look stupid.”
“It could! You don’t even know what I ordered, it could’ve been a Spongebob costume—”
“Show me already or I’m going in there and taking a look myself,” interrupts Jaemin, and Jeno makes a sulky noise in response.
“Fine. Close your eyes first,” he insists.
“You’re so big on the dramatics,” sighs Jaemin, as if his heartbeat isn’t thrumming in his chest at just the thought of what he might see Jeno in. He swallows—he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of Jeno in that underwear since he first saw it. This will be presumably much worse, or better, depending on how you look at it, and there’s a tingle of excitement that runs up his spine. Closing his eyes, he folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the headboard. “Okay,” he says. “Eyes closed.”
He listens to the creak of Jeno’s footsteps, then feels the way the mattress dips with the extra weight of another body, and he holds his breath as Jeno crawls onto his lap, straddling his thighs.
“You can look now,” says Jeno, voice somewhere between teasing and flustered, the way Jeno always gets whenever he’s pushing for something new in bed. It’s so endearing, and sweet, that he cares this much, wants to look so pretty for Jaemin when Jaemin would take any scrap of Jeno he could get no matter what.
Jaemin opens his eyes.
Jeno looks stunning.
It’s beyond imagination, really. Jaemin thinks even the dirtiest corners of his mind couldn’t have conjured up something like this, and he’s almost mad he never thought of it himself, that is—the corset. It’s made of some sort of sheer fabric, structured by black vinyl straps that draw architectural lines across the perfect sculpture of Jeno’s body. It snaps down the front and laces up along the back, and Jaemin thinks—he thinks he’s going to faint.
Jeno keeps twisting his fingers in front of his chest (Jaemin notices the way that the built-in brassiere sags off of Jeno’s pectorals, and cracks a wry smile) and makes eye contact with Jaemin, tongue darting between his lips. Jaemin’s hands are already on Jeno’s waist, tracing the lines of the corset, dragging down to his thighs and feeling the skin of his thighs, bare and soft and just waiting for Jaemin to touch them. Jeno’s wearing only the corset and that same pair of black underwear. Jaemin’s not really sure what he meant by ‘cartoon dominatrix’ when he just seems so… Jeno.
“Is it okay?” Jeno asks, and the words have little chance to escape his mouth before Jaemin swallows them with a kiss, feverish to feel as much of him as possible. He doesn’t waste another second, and turns Jeno over so that he’s the one against the pillows. Jeno lets out a little noise, one of those tiny surprised ones Jaemin finds so endearing.
Jaemin boxes him in with his hands. “Is it okay?” His head is almost spinning at the sight underneath him, at the way the corset clutches Jeno’s waist, the sharp contrast with the defined muscles of his arms, and his soft, pretty face, the mole dotted under his eye. “It’s everything—” He has to pause to take in a breath. “You’re going to drive me fucking crazy one of these days.”
“You always say that,” Jeno retorts, and he fixes the brassiere portion of the corset with one awkward hand. “I would’ve thought you went crazy a long time ago.”
“To be honest,” Jaemin hums, running a finger down the middle of the corset, toying with the clasps holding it together, “I think I went crazy the first day I met you.”
Jeno rolls his eyes, but the burn on his cheeks says something different. “So stupid,” he mumbles, and he spreads his legs, opening up. Inviting Jaemin in.
“What do you want tonight?” Jaemin asks, careful. He places a hand on the inside of Jeno’s thigh, imagining how far it might go if he pushed it, just how much he could make Jeno bend. “Tell me, baby.”
“Just want you to fuck me, is all,” Jeno admits. “Please?”
It’s so sweet, how Jeno always says please, how he always begs for everything from Jaemin even though Jaemin would drop to his knees and give him everything, if he could. Such a good boy. His good boy. It hits him then, the overwhelming rush that Jeno is his—his, his, his, and he digs his thumb right into where Jeno’s thigh meets his pelvis like he’s making his mark. It’s a delicious rush, knowing this, and it must show on his face, because Jeno gives him another odd little smile.
“I can do that for you,” Jaemin says, perhaps after a second too long. He’s far too enamored with Jeno like this, touching him and basking in every inch of him, dressed up like a pretty doll. “Can’t stop looking at you, Jen. Fuck. So pretty.” He puts extra emphasis on the last word, and watches how it shivers through Jeno, how Jeno’s breath catches in his lungs in response.
Jeno pushes himself onto his elbows, and then kisses Jaemin, awkward and a bit sloppy. “Glad you like it,” he says, and tilts his head to let Jaemin kiss along the column of his neck. Jaemin can see Jeno’s cock thickening behind that black lace again, just like last time, and he gropes at it, just a bit. Jeno buckles right away, hips twitching. So sensitive.
“So sweet, all dressed up, just for me. My perfect Jeno,” Jaemin coos, and Jeno collapses back against the pillows, done with trying to hold himself up. He just lies there, ready to let Jaemin take him apart.
Jaemin tears his eyes away from the sight before him to grab the lube out of the drawer on the bedside table. Without much forethought, he shoves his knee between Jeno’s legs, right up against his crotch, and listens to the whine that spirals out of Jeno at the harsh contact.
When he hears Jeno make those noises—it’s like there’s something dark and horrible inside Jaemin, something that yawns awake inside him, a desire that he can’t control. He grinds his knee harder as he uncaps the lube, and feels Jeno’s thighs clench tight around his leg.
He looks down at him, and lets a smile slip onto his face. “So needy.”
“Mean,” Jeno retorts, the focus of his eyes unsteady, his hips moving in a slow grind against Jaemin’s leg. “Jaemin, just—”
Jaemin retreats his leg, and pushes his hand back along that familiar stroke of Jeno’s inner thigh. Jeno opens, stretches wide for him, and he moves to slide the underwear off, but Jaemin shakes his head.
“Keep them on,” he orders, and he wants it to seem commanding, but he’s so dizzy with desire that the words feel thick in his throat. “I want to fuck you like this.”
Jeno blinks up at him for a moment, and his fingertips keep pushing past the waistband of the underwear and sliding back out. It’s not even dirty, but it feels like it should be—everything about Jeno is that way, it seems. Jaemin doesn’t know anymore, doesn’t care, just wants to get inside Jeno and feel him, make him his for the thousandth time.
Reaching between his legs, Jeno tugs his underwear to the side, like an invitation. “Okay.”
“You’re so easy,” Jaemin says, not sure if it’s some sort of erotic insult, or a compliment, or a loving admission, but Jeno has always loved hearing all three from him. Jaemin watches as his smile curls onto his face again, half-moon eyes and all.
“Only for you.” Jeno reaches forward, and grabs the wrist of the hand Jaemin had just drizzled in lube. “Go on,” he says. “Get me wet.”
An involuntary squeak escapes Jaemin’s mouth, one that he is sure destroys the image of cool domination he tries so hard to show off in bed, if just for a moment. He stares down at Jeno, wondering if he looks as red as he feels.
“You are so—you’re not allowed.”
“Not allowed what?" Jeno smiles, drags his panties to the side even further, guiding Jaemin’s fingers until they’re sliding wet over his perineum.
Regaining his composure, Jaemin pushes a finger inside Jeno, and he leans down closer, so his other hand can run reverent over the corset hugging Jeno’s body. “Not allowed to be such a filthy little slut.” His voice is low, more of a rumble against Jeno’s jawline as he kisses him there, but Jeno is already gasping from his words, or maybe the touch of Jaemin’s finger.
Rocking back against his hand, Jeno is a vision, and Jaemin has thoughts of Jeno decked out in all kinds of lace, of intricate straps and coiled ropes—but that’s for another time. If he thinks about all the possibilities of Jeno’s new interest, his head will start spinning.
“Another,” Jeno demands. He always loses his usual patience in moments like these—he both hates and loves to be teased. Jaemin thumbs over Jeno’s hard cock that strains against the underwear instead. Jeno twitches, hand grabbing at Jaemin’s shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. “Stop,” Jeno whines against his mouth. “Hurry up.”
“Why should I hurry?” asks Jaemin, even as he prods a second finger at Jeno’s entrance. “We’ve got all the time in the world, baby.” He pushes that second finger in anyway, curling it up with a harsh dig against Jeno’s prostate that makes Jeno bite down hard on Jaemin’s bottom lip. He whines, arching his spine off the bed. His hand shoves against Jaemin’s chest, like he’s trying to push him away.
“Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin,” Jeno gasps, and Jaemin puts him back against the bed with a stern hand on his chest.
“You said you wanted another,” Jaemin laughs, “and now you’re roughhousing with me? I didn’t think you were feeling like a puppy tonight.”
Jeno’s entire face blooms scarlet, and as he tries to cover his face with his hands, Jaemin adds a third finger. Two fingers would be enough, but he loves to take his time with stretching Jeno out like this, opening him wide.
“Look at you,” Jaemin hums. “So pretty, squirming on my fingers like this. You always open up so easily for me.”
“Can you at least take off your pants?” Jeno’s hand reaches up, brushing against Jaemin’s zipper. “I want to see more of you.”
Jaemin sighs as if this is all very troubling, but he unzips his pants with his free hand nonetheless. His dick has been straining against these pants (jeans that Jeno gifted him for his birthday that were purposefully a size too small) for the past few minutes.
“Can I—” Jeno stares at the outline of Jaemin’s dick in his underwear. “Can I suck you off?”
“Thought you wanted to be fucked.” Jaemin slides his fingers out of Jeno, watching the way the underwear snaps back to place between his thighs. He presses his thumb against Jeno’s lips, and Jeno’s mouth falls open in turn, tongue trying to guide the entirety of Jaemin’s finger inside.
“You can fuck my mouth,” Jeno suggests, words a little thick around the pressure of Jaemin’s thumb. “I don’t care.”
“Maybe as a little warm up, then.” Sliding his dick out of his briefs, Jaemin straddles Jeno, thighs across his broad chest. “You’re so good with your mouth.”
Jeno smiles. His expression is dazed and sweet, even as Jaemin pushes the head of his cock past his lips. He always takes what Jaemin gives him so well.
“Perfect,” Jaemin mutters. “So perfect for me.”
Eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, Jeno takes Jaemin’s cock into his mouth. He has to sit up to get the angle right without choking, though Jaemin knows Jeno likes to choke sometimes. He’ll go for the gentle approach tonight.
It only takes a few seconds for Jaemin to let out a noise of pleasure. Jeno knows the exact way to make Jaemin feel good, he always does. His tongue drags along the underside of his cock, hot and wet. There’s something about the way Jeno sucks cock—he does it without shame, like it's just as much of a pure indulgence for him as it is for the person receiving it.
He looks up at Jaemin, as if to ask “Am I doing good?”, and Jaemin nods, fisting a hand in Jeno’s messy hair. Taking this as encouragement, Jeno takes in more of Jaemin, deeper and deeper until he swears he can feel his cock against the back of Jeno’s throat. Jeno’s breathing out his nose is hot on his skin, and Jaemin has to use every ounce of will inside him to not jerk his hips forward.
“Jeno,” he says. "Jeno—'' Jeno doesn’t stop, he just moans, nose pushing against Jaemin’s stomach. There’s drool slipping from the corners of his mouth as he takes Jaemin’s dick like his life depends on it. “Jeno.” The sternness of Jaemin’s tone this time draws Jeno’s wet eyes up to Jaemin’s. “I’m going to come if we don’t stop now.”
With a tug at Jeno’s hair, he guides Jeno off his cock. He mourns the loss, but the drive to fuck Jeno is even stronger. Jeno lies below him, propped on his elbows, already wrecked—mouth glossy and his cheeks flushed. Paired with the corset that still hugs his chest, the picture of it all makes Jaemin wish he had his camera on him, but it's on the coffee table in the living room. Another time.
“I was just getting started,” Jeno complains.
“Do you want to get fucked or not?”
“Well—yeah.”
“That’s what I thought.” Jaemin grins, crawling off of Jeno’s chest, and shuffling off his jeans as fast as he can, shirt following a second later. His dick stands so hard now against his stomach, and if he doesn’t get it in Jeno soon he’s not sure what he’ll do. “Turn over.”
Jeno follows, settling onto his hands and knees. Jaemin considers making a joke about them doing it doggy style, but the collar is hanging away in the closet, for another night. He already knows of Jeno’s puppy-like tendencies. That revealed itself after just a year and an adventurous night involving improper use of a belt. Jaemin should revel in this new side he hasn’t seen quite yet instead.
From the back, he can see more of the slope of Jeno’s body in the corset. The criss-cross of ribbons up his back, leading up to those broad shoulders, paired with the curve of Jeno’s ass in those black panties—Jaemin swallows, losing himself in it for a moment.
Jeno turns back to look at him. His hair keeps falling in his eyes, and his fingers clench and unclench the sheets under his palms as if that will fend off the desperation running through him.
“Jaemin,” he says, voice scratching its way out of his throat, gruff yet also a whine, “Stop just staring.”
“Sorry. Just taking in how pretty you are.”
Flustered, Jeno looks away so he no longer has to meet Jaemin’s eyes. Jaemin has to revel in what an effect this word seems to have on Jeno—pretty. Something he’s thought of Jeno many times, but never seemed to voice, and here it is, making Jeno crumble into a blushing mess. That’s Jeno for you; ever honest, yet always revealing more. A never-ending puzzle that Jaemin keeps trying to put together.
“Are you ready?” Jaemin strokes his dick a few times for good measure, and then puts a hand on Jeno’s ass. With his thumb, he pushes the underwear to the side again, the black lace parting to reveal bare skin. The same thumb presses inside Jeno’s hole, and Jeno gasps as Jaemin tests just how open he is.
“Ready,” Jeno chokes out. Jaemin doesn’t waste any more time, he makes sure the panties are tucked against Jeno’s heavy cock, and he pushes his dick in with one long movement.
“Good boy,” Jaemin mumbles, so low he’s not even sure Jeno can hear it. “There we go.”
Jeno gasps, back arching in a way that is only complimented by the corset. Jaemin can’t look away from it—he’s already plenty infatuated with Jeno’s body, but the sight of him wrapped tight in this mixture of sheer black and tight vinyl makes his veins run hot.
“How does it feel?” Jaemin asks, resisting the drive to start moving. He hooks a finger under the band of lace that encircles Jeno’s hipbone, and snaps it back against the skin, something that’s become a bit of a habit every time Jeno wears this underwear.
“Feels good. Big. Fuck.” Jeno rocks his ass back against Jaemin’s cock with a whine. “Just move.”
“Aww. Someone’s a little antsy,” Jaemin teases, and the exasperated noise Jeno makes is somewhere between a moan, a growl, and a sigh. Jaemin leans forward and kisses the nape of Jeno’s neck, feeling a shock of tenderness in his stomach for just a second. Then—he starts to move.
He pulls almost all the way out, listening to the shuddering breaths from Jeno beneath him, and then shoves his dick back in with no finesse. Jeno keeps attempting to meet his thrusts, desperate for it.
“That’s it,” he gasps. “Jaemin, I need it. So bad.”
“I know you do, baby.” Jaemin runs a hand along Jeno’s body, teasing his cock for a second and then pressing a finger against his nipple through the fabric of the corset. The cups that are supposed to serve as the brassiere still hang loose from Jeno’s chest, and so Jaemin moves to touching the bare skin underneath. “You always need me. You always beg for so much. So high maintenance.”
Jeno looks over his shoulder at him then, his mouth hanging open as Jaemin drives his hips in and out, in and out, rucking his body up against the bedsheets. “You like that about me,” he says, managing a smile.
“Maybe,” Jaemin replies, instead of saying I like everything about you, because it's a little too corny for a moment where he’s balls-deep in Jeno’s ass. Jeno returns this with a satisfied expression, eyes crinkling, until Jaemin grabs onto his thigh, yanking at his leg to open him wider.
“Shit,” Jeno moans, and he drops onto his forearms, forehead pressing against the bed. “More, more.”
Jaemin drives in even harder, fucking without a care now, just for his own pleasure. He leans down once more to kiss Jeno’s shoulder, which devolves into a hickey and then a bite of teeth into skin. Not hard enough to hurt in a way that matters, rather just enough to make Jeno shiver in delight. Jaemin slaps his hand against Jeno’s thigh, and raises back up. Red marks bloom on Jeno’s shoulder, hickeys and the sting of Jaemin’s teeth.
“How many times can I say you look so pretty like this?” Jaemin asks. He stills for a moment, the drive for release lost to the desire to just appreciate Jeno, his Jeno, like he’s stopped to do so many times tonight already.
“I’ll wear this every night if you keep saying it,” Jeno says. His cheek is pressed against the bedsheet, and he tries to encourage Jaemin to move again with a swing of his hips.
“You’re just as pretty without it,” Jaemin says, soft, a reverent hand gliding down Jeno’s spine. Jeno lets out an embarrassed sigh.
“Jaemin—can I turn over? Wanna look at you.”
Heart blooming in his chest, Jaemin nods. Jeno’s always been partial to asking for permission during sex, even for the tiniest things, and it reminds Jaemin just how tied they are to each other, in a way.
“Of course.”
He guides Jeno onto his back, pulling out to make the process easier. Jeno frowns at the loss of Jaemin’s dick, but he still settles against the pillows, expression changing into a pleased smile when he sees Jaemin’s face.
He parts Jeno’s legs once more, as Jeno wraps two languid hands around the back of his neck to tug him down for a kiss. His dick slides in so easy this time, and he rubs circles on Jeno’s hip bones, overcome by the sudden urge to take his time with this. Despite their frantic pace mere moments ago, there’s something about this moment—breathing hot into Jeno’s mouth, with him hot and tight all around Jaemin—that he wants to treasure.
Jeno, however, seems to have different ideas. His legs wrap around Jaemin’s back, attempting to pull him closer. With an uncertain desperation, he tries to grind down on Jaemin’s cock, squirming and chewing on his bottom lip when Jaemin pulls away from the kiss. Jaemin holds him in place, gripping on his hips in a firm grasp, biting back a smile as he takes in Jeno with a slow gaze.
Jeno’s dick is so hard that it pokes past the waistband of the lace underwear in a sight that’s so obscene it makes Jaemin dizzy. He always forgets just how big Jeno’s cock is. He drags his thumb over the length of it, and Jeno gasps, his abdomen tensing even under the corset.
“Jaemin—” Jeno starts. He fights against Jaemin’s grasp, but there’s no real effort to it. If he wanted to break free, he could. The excitement is in the fact that he chooses not to.
Jaemin jerks his hips forward, hard and fast and sudden, and Jeno’s expression changes in an instant. He moans, one hand digging fingernails into Jaemin’s neck and the other holding onto the sheets as if they’re a lifeline.
“What was that?” Jaemin teases, feeling Jeno’s legs clench tight around his back as he moves back to the breath-stealing pace he was at a few minutes ago. Jeno whimpers in response, and Jaemin laughs. “That’s what I thought, pretty baby.”
He bends down to decorate Jeno’s shoulders with more blossoming red marks. One of his hands keeps stroking up and down Jeno’s chest, not even thinking as he does it, just feeling the fabric of the corset and the shaky inhale of Jeno’s lungs.
When he stares down at Jeno, Jaemin is sure he must look a little wild-eyed—he can hear his own breath too, and it feels like his heart is pounding right inside his skull as he rams his dick into Jeno over and over again.
Jeno’s hands are shaking as he tries to reach for his own dick. Jaemin is faster, however, and he swats Jeno’s hand out of the way, lacing their fingers together.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jaemin coos, voice sweet and tinged with evil. “I’ll be the one to make you come, princess.”
Jaemin watches the way the embarrassment mixed with red-hot lust falls over Jeno’s face. He squirms, and squeezes Jaemin’s hand until it almost hurts.
“Want you, Jaemin,” Jeno mumbles.
Jaemin kisses the corner of his mouth. “You have me.”
The sheer black fabric of Jeno’s intricate corset is getting sticky with sweat, plastering against his skin. He looks so gorgeous, too gorgeous, and Jaemin takes a mental picture of his beautiful boyfriend, lying there wrecked and ruined right under him.
He grabs at the base of Jeno’s thighs, and with every last bit of self control, he pulls his cock out of Jeno. It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, but if Jeno wants him—he should give him the best.
Jeno’s head lolls to the side, a desperate noise falling from his lips. “What are you doing?”
“Making it even better for you.” Jaemin pulls at the underwear, and Jeno lifts his hips in turn so that it can slide right off. Tossing the ball of black lace across the bedroom, Jaemin folds Jeno’s legs up, bending him until his knees are close to his chest. “Can you hold your legs for me, sweetheart? Or are you too far gone?”
“M’not—I can. I can.” Jeno wraps around his thighs, the muscles of his arms flexing as he pulls himself into position. “Jaemin, please. Just fuck me.”
“Mmm… Let me think about it.” Jaemin ruts his cock against the now naked space between Jeno’s legs. It’s wet and messy with lube, and the slide sends a shiver down his spine.
Jeno hugs his legs tighter, an ankle falling onto Jaemin’s shoulder. “Jaemin, I’m gonna go crazy, please just—”
At that moment, he shoves himself all the way back inside. It’s so sudden that Jeno almost kicks Jaemin in the face from surprise, his hands falling away from holding at his legs. Jaemin laughs, almost giddy with it, and just manhandles Jeno into the right position, throwing one leg over his shoulder and pressing the other thigh against the bed, forcing that stretch he knows Jeno obsesses over. It’s much deeper this way, and he can feel the way Jeno clenches around him, can watch the heave of his chest and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down gasping moans.
“That what you wanted, princess?” Jaemin asks. The nickname isn’t even intentional this time, it just fits Jeno, with his tear-rimmed eyes and delicate features and body that bends with a ballerina’s grace to Jaemin’s will.
Jeno stares up at Jaemin. He seems half-there, eyes glossy, a bit of drool leaking down his chin, and he doesn’t even muster a response. He just nods, weak and slow, even as his body moves up and down the mattress with the force of each thrust.
Jaemin leans down, and kisses him again, again, again. “That’s what I thought.” He wants it to sound smug and unaffected—he had intended to play up Jeno’s favorite kind of sexual cruelty tonight—but instead, fondness washes over him.
“Come inside,” Jeno says, hoarse and far away. “Are you close?” His voice now, even his moans, sound like they’re coming from the same distant place his mind is wrapped in.
This time, Jaemin is the one who nods. Letting go of one of Jeno’s thighs, he holds a hand out over Jeno’s mouth, palm down.
“Lick,” he orders. He’s getting so close to orgasm that now his brain is operating on instinct, on whatever will bring him and Jeno to their peak. Jeno follows the command, of course he does—it’s one of the things he does best. He gets Jaemin’s palm wet with spit, little gasps leaving him all the while.
When Jaemin reaches down to wrap the hand around Jeno’s cock, Jeno just smiles, lazy and fucked out. That fondness again—it bursts from Jaemin, curling in his stomach and his ribs, just from looking down at this wonderful boy he loves so much.
In an effort to keep himself from getting overwhelmed, Jaemin instead focuses on the raw sensations flooding his system. Jeno, hot and tight around him, stretched open and offering himself up. Jeno’s thick cock, heavy in his spit-covered hand. The sound of their breathing, hot and climbing. The orgasm that’s just out of reach, thrumming in his nerves, begging for release.
As Jaemin thrusts forward once more, Jeno clenches around him, and that’s what does it. His skin buzzes and his vision floods for a brief second as he spills inside Jeno. Determined, he doesn’t let up jerking Jeno off—it takes just a few more slides of his hand before Jeno is crying out, coming all over the beautiful corset that still wraps around his torso tight.
Jeno is so pretty when he comes, Jaemin thinks in his dazed state, watching the way Jeno’s thighs twitch. His hips keep trying to rise off the bed, but the position he’s in makes it hard, and then there’s the fact that Jaemin keeps jerking him through it, all the way until the last sad dribble of cum leaks out of his cock. Part of Jaemin wants to keep playing with Jeno while he’s sensitive like this, but he decides against it. Exhaustion is swallowing him post-orgasm, and this is enough for tonight.
Instead, he pulls out of Jeno, and watches the way his come drips out, sliding down the smooth skin of Jeno’s inner thigh. Jeno is still trembling, even as Jaemin maneuvers him into a more comfortable position. Brushing Jeno’s bangs out of his eyes, he lays a kiss on his forehead..
“Are you there, baby?” he asks.
Jeno nods, relaxing under him. “Mm-hmm.” A pause, and Jaemin listens to his breathing, the soft shake of it. “That was good.”
"Yeah it was.” Another kiss, this time on the lips, chaste and sweet compared to all the other ones this night.
“M’sticky. Need a shower.”
Jaemin sits up and looks over Jeno’s body. He reaches down to the dipping neckline of the corset, and hooks his finger into one of the clasps. It’s like unwrapping a present, as he pops each clasp open and lets the corset open up to expose Jeno’s naked chest. The marks Jaemin’s left and the streaks of cum and spit all over him seem to shine even more as the corset is removed, and Jaemin idly circles his fingers over the bare skin.
“Want to take one together?” he asks.
Jeno nods. He tries to get up, and while he manages to sit up just fine, when he tries to stand up on the floor, his knees buckle, legs still weak.
“C’mere.” Jaemin gets off the bed. His body is worn out too, but he can manage to stand and wrap his arm around Jeno’s waist to drag him to the bathroom. Jeno makes a content noise, like a purr, and for a brief second, Jaemin wonders if he’s dreaming.
He really is the luckiest person in the world.
—
“Hey,” says Jeno fifteen minutes later, as Jaemin massages shampoo into his hair, “I love you. Thanks for indulging me.”
“It’s not really indulgence if I like it as much as you do,” Jaemin points out. He tips Jeno’s head back into the stream of water, laughing at the way he screws his eyes shut when the water hits his face. “Love you too, princess.”
“Augh,” Jeno whines. “Don’t say that out of bed. It’s weird.” His face is bright red, whether that’s from the steam or the nickname, Jaemin doesn’t know. “Or—” he chews on his lip. “Well, just don’t say it in public.”
Jaemin bites back his smile. “Mmmh. Sure. So what’s next, then? Schoolgirl outfit? Sexy Halloween costume? Bondage? We’ve opened a whole new world of possibilities.”
Jeno turns around to face him, eyes glittering. “Actually,” he says, in a conversational tone, “I already ordered a maid dress.”
Jaemin freezes. “Ah,” he says. “Oh. Wow.”
“Are you not into that, because—” Jeno starts, but then Jaemin leans into him, chest to chest, and Jeno feels the thickening length of Jaemin’s cock pressing against his thigh. “Oh. I see.”
Jaemin, too embarrassed by his quick reaction, buries his face in Jeno’s neck. Jeno just snickers out a laugh, his hand finding its way between their bodies.
“You know,” he says. “One more round couldn’t hurt.”