Work Text:
Your eyes are on the clock as you check the food on the stove. Jihoon texted a little less than an hour ago saying that he was finishing up and getting a ride home soon. After several years you’ve learned that “soon” means anything from twenty minutes to two hours; still, he knows you worry so he tries to keep his estimates accurate.
This is his last recording this week, but he only has tomorrow off before another round of interviews and performances start. He promised that he would spend the entire day with you, doing whatever you want. What he doesn’t know is that you want him to rest . The one thing he’s patently bad at doing.
Which is why you’ve organized tonight to help him do exactly that. And it starts with making him a comforting, nutritious dinner. The door lock unlatches just as you’re tasting the soup for the fourth time, making sure it hasn’t reduced too much.
“Perfect,” you murmur.
A pair of firm arms encircle your waist; Jihoon rests his head against your back. “What’s perfect?”
“My smart, talented, handsome boyfriend. And this soondubu jjigae ,” you tell him.
You can feel his smile. “I appreciate that order.”
Turning in his arms, you press a warm kiss against his wide mouth. “Welcome home.”
He must have rushed straight to you. There’s still a streak of glitter along his chin and his eye makeup is smudged, but his smile could power the entire city. You never get sick of being on the receiving end of his love.
“So happy to be home,” he sighs. “Sorry, I probably smell. I need a shower.”
He does. He’s got that intense mix of cologne and performance sweat scenting his skin; his hair is still damp. No matter the event, he always goes hard.
“Dinner first. While it’s still hot.”
“It looks amazing.”
“It tastes even better,” you assure him. “Go sit down and I’ll bring it over.”
Jihoon isn’t good at just sitting though; he’s more comfortable when he has a task to complete, so you put him in charge of rice while you bring everything else to the table. The banchan is already laid out and you’ve placed a Coke Zero on his side, knowing he’ll argue with any attempt you make to give him something else. You’ve learned to pick your battles.
His tired eyes light up when he surveys the meal. It’s not often you get to share meals together, though you try to bring something by the studio when you have time. But that’s a whole process of cooking, packing, traveling, and security just to give him a wrapped bag and quick kiss before he kicks you out again to work. It’s not meant to be rude; he knows that the sooner he finishes his work, the sooner he can go home to you.
But the work never ends and you have your own responsibilities, something you both accepted when you started dating. So these nights together are precious and you’re not going to waste a second.
“Would you like to do something tonight?” he asks. His voice is light but you can hear and see his exhaustion. It both warms your heart and saddens you that he’s trying to push himself to make you happy even though he needs to rest more than anything.
“I would, actually,” you say, nudging the jeyuk dish closer to him. “I was thinking we could have a spa night.”
A flicker of concern passes through his expression and you know what he’s thinking. Spa night usually means massages and long, slow sex that lasts for hours. Or sex in the shower. Or pretty much any situation where you take your time with each other. It’s an investment of time and energy, neither of which he has a lot of, and he’s frantically searching for the best way to let you down easy.
“Baby,” he says slowly. “I don’t know if I have it in me to have sex tonight. This comeback is killing me.”
It must be for him to refuse sex altogether. But you already know that, which is why you’ve organized everything accordingly.
“That’s why tonight is all about you, love. I want you to let me take care of you completely.”
He wouldn’t be Jihoon if he didn’t protest, but the pro and con about having you as a partner is that you’re more stubborn than he is. You listen patiently while he voices his concerns, enjoying your own meal.
“Are you done?” you ask when he stops. “Good. Eat your food. You need it.”
“I do eat, you know.”
“Coke Zero and instant rice do not count as meals. When did you last have a real, healthy meal? I’ll tell you. It was last Friday, because I cooked it for you and dropped it off at your studio.”
“It was really good,” he concedes. “I’ve been thinking about your cooking all week.”
“Wait until you see tomorrow’s menu.”
This just sets him off again. “Baby, you’re already spoiling me with this dinner. It’s not fair to you.”
“And when the comeback is over and things quiet down, you’re taking me on a trip,” you assert.
He smiles. “I am?”
“Absolutely. A nice one. Because I’m your favorite girlfriend.”
“You’re my only girlfriend.”
“And favorite,” you insist. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed Soonyoung trying to take my place.”
Jihoon just groans , leaning back in his chair. “He’s gotten so clingy lately.”
“It’s cute. As long as he knows you’re mine.”
“Everyone knows that.”
They do. The other guys will complain that they’re jealous from time-to-time, which only makes you happier because it means you’re doing a good job. Or trying to, at least. Even with so many dishes he loves on the table, his bites are small. Jihoon gamely tries everything but it’s clear that he’s too tired to eat very much. You take pity on him.
“I’m going to clean up. Do you want to go take your makeup off?”
“I already…” He rubs his eyes and catches the smear of eyeshadow. “I didn’t do a very good job, apparently. I just really wanted to get home and see you.”
“I know. Don’t shower without me. I’ll be quick.”
“It’ll be quicker if I help.”
“Go away,” you order. You were smart; before he got home, you laid out all the storage containers in advance. It doesn’t take you long to pack everything up and load the dishwasher. By the time you get to the bedroom, he’s sitting on the end of the bed, his eyes closed.
“Not sleeping,” he mumbles, eyes still closed. “Just resting.”
“Bath or shower?”
You already know what he’s going to say but he gets a little feisty when he thinks he’s becoming too predictable, so you ask anyway.
“Shower,” he confirms.
“You sure? You can sit in the bath.”
“If I sit in warm water I will fall asleep.”
Tossing a shower steamer into the tub, you twist at the knobs until the temperature is just right. The bathroom quickly warms, scented with vanilla and citrus. Jihoon leans against the door frame with heavy eyes. “You’re doing all this for me?”
“Do you see another sleepy, sexy man in this apartment?”
“Better not.” He shuffles over to you, tipping your chin up so he can slot his mouth against yours. Kissing Jihoon feels like coming home after a long day. He tastes minty. He must have brushed his teeth while waiting for you.
Slipping your hands under his shirt, you break away from him long enough to pull it over his head. He immediately tries to kiss you again, but you lean back. “What’s this?”
There’s a slight bruise along his trim waist that you don’t remember seeing a few days ago. Jihoon rolls his eyes.
“Mingyu knocked over some equipment.”
“Well, moving forward can he please knock equipment over onto someone else ? Kidding, kidding!” you add because you can see your boyfriend ready to chastise you. “I promise I’m kidding, I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
“Don’t even put those thoughts into the universe.”
You mimic grabbing something out of the air and throwing it into the tiny trash bin by your foot. “All gone.”
Satisfied, Jihoon steps out of the rest of his clothes, then helps you out of yours. He presses small, chaste kisses along your spine that make you shiver until you’re under the hot water. It’s tempting to stay under the spray and let him keep caressing your waist, hand slowly moving down to your hip, but tonight isn’t about you.
You pull his wandering hands away and move him under the water, tousling his hair so it’s properly soaked.
“What, I can’t touch you at all?” he protests.
“Not tonight.” You squeeze a generous amount of shampoo into your hands. “Turn, please.”
He obeys, but not without grumbling. “I can wash my own hair.”
Ignoring him, you slide your fingers against his scalp and he moans. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“You wanna wash your own hair?”
“I never said that.”
Grinning, you work your fingers across his scalp, lathering the shampoo in well. The first time you did this for him, he was all fidgety and embarrassed. He kept protesting through the entire shampooing process and didn’t shut up until you were rinsing out the last of the conditioner. Since he’d made such a fuss, you decided not to mention it again until a few weeks later when he asked for it, with all the discomfort of requesting a sexual favor.
You acquiesced, of course, with more than a little teasing.
Now, you wash his hair when he’s feeling tired, more vulnerable. He still puts up a token protest that you ignore, that you’re supposed to ignore, but it must make him feel better about it. He’s had to learn to take up space in your relationship and this is one of the ways you show him how much you value him. How he’s safe with you. Cherished.
“Have I told you how much I love your long hair?”
Eyes closed, he murmurs, “Only every day.”
“Is that all?” Combing through the conditioner you say, “I really, really love your long hair. Also, it looks healthier.”
“My stylist said the hair mask you use must be helping.”
When Jihoon went blonde, you were delighted. It was like having the sun splayed out on the pillow next to you. Unfortunately, years of bleaching and color had made his hair brittle, so you made it a point to deep condition for him as often as he’d allow it. Now it’s smooth under your fingertips as you clip it up so the mask has time to sit.
You’re feeling a little chilled so he switches places with you so you can enjoy the spray while you squeeze body wash onto his loofah. This time he doesn’t complain as you run the loofah over his shoulders and back, across his chest, down his stomach. Capturing some of the extra foam, you use your hands to caress his hips and down to his cock, stroking gently.
He sighs, leaning forward slightly. He’s still soft, but his hips shift reflexively towards your touch. When he realizes you’re not about to stop, he gives you a suspicious look.
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
“Maybe,” you say, continuing your languid strokes.
“I don’t know if–” He stops abruptly as you feel him growing hard in your hand. Instead, he just huffs out a soft laugh. “You have some kind of power over me.”
“You do the same thing to me all the time,” you point out. “Fair’s fair.”
How many times has he brought you to orgasm on mornings and nights when you claimed you were too tired? Just the thought of being touched by him is enough to excite you. Jihoon likes to insist that the feel-good brain chemicals will help you rest better and tonight is all about rest.
Pressing your chest against his back so you can get a better angle, you tease his nipples with your left hand and continue stroking with your right, his cock warm and heavy in your hand. He inhales sharply when you press your thumb into his tip, gliding down to massage his sensitive frenulum. There’s nothing rushed, but when Jihoon begins to thrust into your grip, you pull your hand away.
He whines before catching himself; you can feel his frustration in the rigidity of his body against yours. Giggling softly, you turn him around to face you before carefully getting onto your knees, letting the warm spray rinse him clean.
“Oh,” he says. “Darling, you don’t ha–”
He swallows his protests as you take him into your mouth, pressing your tongue under his head. A groan escapes him and one hand darts out to press against the shower wall as he holds himself steady.
You can’t resist pulling off just to say, “You really thought I was going to torture you, didn’t you?”
Jihoon’s tired but intent gaze meets yours. “You’re torturing me right now.”
Dramatic , you think. Any other night you’d continue to taunt him in the hopes that he’d return the favor, drawing out the excitement, but you take pity on him and press your lips to his cock once, twice, before taking him in again. This time you focus entirely on making him come, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck hard, free hand stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth. It’s been too long since you’ve done this and you don’t think you can properly deepthroat him tonight, but Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind.
Slight groans escape him as he thrusts into your mouth, his motions insistent but gentle. His impeccable self control can be annoying at times, but right now you’re grateful that he’s not giving you more than you can take. When you slide your fingers down to stroke his balls, his entire body shudders.
“Close,” he warns you. He’s giving you the option to move, but you just hum around him, holding his gaze as you suck. You know exactly what makes him a goner and eye contact is definitely on the list.
“Ah, fuck!” His thrusts become shallow and harsh until he grips himself, coming directly onto your tongue. You wait, obediently, mouth open, until he’s finished. Still holding his gaze, you swallow.
Jihoon pulls you up to your feet and mashes his lips to yours, tongue seeking the taste of himself in your mouth. It’s almost overwhelming; you feel a little lightheaded from being brought to your feet so suddenly.
“You’re a devil.”
“You’re welcome?”
“Cold now,” he says, and you laugh, moving both of your bodies under the shower head. Unclipping his hair, you rinse off his now-soft strands, unable to resist traveling down and giving his butt a squeeze. He scowls at you but there’s no bite in it.
Now that Jihoon’s done, you move quickly through a basic wash and rinse off your own hair so you can both get out. The towels are freshly washed and feel fluffy and decadent wrapped around you. Normally you’d sit on the bed all wrapped up, too lazy to get dressed–your little “towel time” as Jihoon affectionately calls it. But he’s already pulled on underwear and is dragging a shirt over his head before you can get to him.
“You’ve washed my hair and body,” he says. “I draw the line at you dressing me.”
Tugging at his shirt, you say, “Actually, I was going to undress you. I have more plans.” He allows you to pull the shirt back off; even though you literally just saw his body in the shower, you’re still delighted to see it all over again. You always are. Gently you grip his shoulders and turn him back towards the bed. “Lay down. On your stomach, please.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? You’re getting a massage. Ah–shhh. With all the affection in the world, shut up. You’re not going to win any arguments tonight.”
He swallows back his retort, fighting between obstinacy and his own exhaustion. Finally, he crawls onto the bed. Pulling on your own pajamas, you take the small scented bar off the nightstand.
“What’s that?” Jihoon is watching you drowsily, his cheek pillowed against his palm.
“Massage bar. I picked it up a week ago and I’ve been dying to try it out.”
“I should be using it on you,” he says and you wonder how he still has the energy to say silly things.
“A really, really nice trip,” you remind him and he laughs, tugging a pillow under his head.
As you rub the bar across his skin, it slowly begins to melt. The scent of lavender fills the air around you. Jihoon sighs.
“Feeling sleepy again?”
“Mhm.”
“Good. You just relax as much as possible.”
He carries so much tension, which you instantly feel as you press your thumbs on either side of his neck. The massage bar has left behind a thin, smooth sheen that allows your hands and fingers to glide over his gorgeous skin. You alternate intensity, pressing into deeply twisted muscles until you feel them give and relax.
“You’re getting really good at this,” he mumbles into the pillow.
You smile and continue, moving from his neck and shoulders down to his lower back. When you were first together, neither of you could give a massage. Over the years and countless YouTube videos, you both found what you enjoyed and made it a point to practice on each other. For you, any kind of meaningful, intimate touch is just as good as sex, and Jihoon, with his musician hands, is excellent at touching.
By the time you finish rubbing out the knots in his calves, he’s completely still.
“Hoonie?” you whisper. “You still with me?”
You get the quietest hum back. It makes you want to punch the air in victory, but obviously you keep yourself under control. Your mission tonight has been accomplished.
As he dozes, you put away the massage bar, clean up, and finish getting yourself ready for bed. Your hair has partially dried into a mess, but that’s a problem for tomorrow you. The most you care about now is brushing your teeth and dabbing some moisturizer on - your bare minimum routine.
Jihoon won’t truly sleep until you’re in bed with him, so you’re all the more eager to get back. Sure enough, he’s still clinging to consciousness, his eyelids fluttering when he hears your footsteps.
“Bedtime?” he asks, though it comes out as more of a mumbled mess of syllables than actual words.
With a little effort, you pull back the blankets around his body, helping him roll over onto the sheets. Rushing to turn off all the lights, you slip in beside him.
Jihoon scoots back against your body and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him in closer. You like holding and being held, but this is nice because you can rest your head against his shoulders, feeling his warm skin under your cheek.
“Baby?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
There’s a slur to his words, evidence of how relaxed he is. He’s barely even awake but he still manages to appreciate you. Pressing a light kiss against the base of his neck, you murmur, “You’re welcome, love.”
This is what it’s for. Those trips to his work even when you know you’ll barely see him; the nights when you stay up late just to be with him for a few minutes, steal a kiss or two before you both crash, exhausted; sneaking around your work to find a quiet place to call him when he’s gone for weeks or months in different time zones. Jihoon is never facetious towards you - he says what he means. And you know he’s grateful for this attention tonight and he’ll pay it back in spades when he has the time and energy, not that he needs to.
You feel his body relax completely in your arms and know that he’s finally asleep. Tomorrow he’ll fight you every second of the day as you try to get him to rest more, but you’re okay with it because at least he’ll have the energy to do so.
Listening to his measured breathing, you drift away.