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Jeno’s always been touchy. He’s the kind of boyfriend who drapes himself over Jaemin like it’s instinct, who smooths his fingers through his hair while half asleep, who tucks cold hands under Jaemin’s sweater like he belongs there. A hand around his waist while cooking. A kiss to his shoulder just because he passed by. Fingers curling around the inside of Jaemin’s wrist on the train, not because he’s nervous or possessive, but just because he can.
Jaemin doesn’t mind. Of course he doesn’t.
But on one lazy afternoon, Jaemin leans across Jeno’s bed and says, “You’re obsessed with me.”
Jeno doesn’t even blink. He just shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah.”
Jaemin’s eyes light up, delighted. “You think you could go a week without touching me?” he asks, casual and evil.
Jeno snorts. “I crushed on you for a year in complete silence. Of course I could.”
Jaemin smiles wider. “Okay. Bet.”
He crawls into Jeno’s lap. “No touching for seven days. If you win, you can do whatever you want to me. If you fail…” He leans in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “I’ll add five more days.”
“And no jerking off,” he adds sweetly.
Jeno’s brain shorts out for a second. “That’s not even fair. You’re a demon.”
Jaemin kisses his nose. “And you’re competitive. Pinky?”
They lock fingers.
Game on.
Day 1
Jeno wakes up with a stiff back and reminds himself that he is in control of his body and his emotions. He has done harder things, like the college entrance exam, baseball tryouts, and his first internship at an investment firm, and gone longer without. For the first hour, it’s fine.
Until Jaemin walks out of the bedroom wearing a tiny, ribbed crop top and a pair of gray shorts. He yawns and stretches, letting out a soft little noise. Jeno looks away so fast he almost trips over his own feet, and Jaemin just laughs at him.
When Jaemin lounges on the couch, he wears knee high socks with his shorts. He’s doing it on purpose, Jeno knows. He clenches his jaw and grips the arm of the chair a little tighter.
“You could’ve worn pants,” Jeno mutters, his eyes flicking up and down.
“You could’ve said no to the bet,” Jaemin says sweetly. “Are you just gonna stare at me all day?”
Jeno’s eyes flicker to Jaemin for a split second, but then he quickly looks away, hoping he’s not giving himself away too much.
“I’m not,” Jeno swallows, “staring.”
“Okay.”
Jaemin stretches out further, one socked foot gently nudging the edge of the coffee table. The movement is casual and could even pass as innocent, if Jeno wasn’t losing his mind.
“You could always give up,” Jaemin says, his voice like honey. “Touch me. I’d forgive you.”
The sound of Jaemin’s soft laugh fills the room, and Jeno wants nothing more than to pull Jaemin into his lap and kiss him until his lips hurt, but he doesn’t move.
“You’re making this more difficult,” Jeno grumbles, unable to stop himself from looking back at his boyfriend. Jaemin just leans back, crossing his arms behind his head, making sure to arch his back in that slow, teasing way that drives Jeno wild.
“I’m just giving you a suggestion, babe,” Jaemin says, like he’s enjoying the way this is torturing him. “You still have six days to go.”
Jeno rolls his eyes, and he can feel the weight of the challenge pressing down on him.
“Come on, Jeno-ya,” Jaemin coos, dragging out his words. “If you give in now, I’ll be a good boy for you later.”
It’s a trap, and Jeno knows it.
But even though he tells himself he’s in control, even though he promises to last the full seven days, he’s not sure how much longer he can last when Jaemin’s looking at him like that.
9:00 PM
[Jeno]
i miss kissing your forehead
[Jaemin]
darling it’s been like less than 24 hours
[Jeno]
you’re my baby. i miss you every 10 minutes
[Jaemin]
you’re gonna make me cry
Jeno smiles into his pillow and closes his eyes.
No warm weight half on top of him, no arms wrapping around his waist in the middle of the night. He keeps reaching out without thinking, stopping himself at the last second, fingers curling into the fabric instead.
He misses the way Jaemin fits against him. The quiet, sleepy way he always settles into Jeno’s chest like that’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
Jeno exhales and stares at the ceiling.
Day 2
The second day begins with a lie. Jeno thinks he’s doing fine.
Jeno wakes up alone on the couch, stretches his arms, and tells himself, I’ve got this. Yesterday was difficult, sure, but he survived it. He can survive today too. He’s already adjusting. A little discipline never killed anyone.
He wakes up early, makes coffee without seeing Jaemin, and eats at the kitchen table in silence. He’s survived worse, he reminds himself.
It only gets worse from there.
Later that afternoon, Jaemin suggests they go out for ice cream. Jeno agrees immediately, mostly because he needs a change of environment. Some distance. Anything that isn’t Jaemin’s apartment, where everything feels too close and too tempting.
They walk to the corner cafe together. Jeno orders black sesame, Jaemin gets vanilla and coconut. They sit across from each other by the window.
Jaemin takes his time with the first lick. Then another. He lets the cold sweetness melt down the side, and when it drips onto the corner of his mouth, he doesn’t wipe it away immediately. Instead, he blinks slowly and leans forward slightly, licking the drop off with a flick of his tongue, like it’s nothing, like he’s not driving his boyfriend crazy in broad daylight, in public.
When their eyes meet, Jeno’s spoon clatters into his cup, and Jaemin just smiles, completely unbothered. The cafe suddenly feels too warm.
“Are you okay?” Jaemin asks, tilting his head like he doesn’t already know the answer.
Jeno doesn’t even answer. He just grabs a napkin and starts aggressively wiping his hands.
Jaemin grins. “Are you imagining things?”
“You’re doing things,” Jeno mutters.
“I’m just eating ice cream, Jeno-ya.”
By the time they get home, Jeno’s head is spinning. He offers to do the dishes. It’s the only excuse he can come up with to put a physical barrier between him and his boyfriend.
But of course, Jaemin does not let him live. He follows him in, leaning on the counter with both elbows, watching Jeno rinse out their cups. Then so casually, like he's talking about the weather or the price of groceries, he asks, “Have you ever thought about bending me over this counter?”
Jeno freezes, the sponge slipping from his hand into the sink.
“What?” Jaemin blinks at him. “I’m just asking a question.”
He’s going to get him back for this. He’s going to get him back so badly Jaemin won’t even be able to walk straight.
He doesn’t breathe properly again until Jaemin leaves to meet Renjun for dinner.
[Jeno]
i hope you had fun today
[Jaemin]
i did. did you? <3
[Jeno]
i had fun watching you try to destroy me one bite at a time
[Jaemin]
i’m just being cute
also it should be lick, nobody bites ice cream
[Jeno]
stfu ur being evil
but ur also my baby
i miss touching ur hair
[Jaemin]
oh. now you’re just being mean
[Jeno]
i’m trying so hard to be good
[Jaemin]
hehe i know
[Jeno]
don’t look at me like that next time you eat ice cream
[Jaemin]
no promises
By the time Jeno falls asleep that night, he’s starting to realize this might actually break him.
It’s not just because of the horniness, although it is a significant factor. It’s the distance, the way his arms feel empty, the way the bed feels colder without his boyfriend curled up next to him.
He misses the little things most. The press of Jaemin’s palm against his cheek, the warmth of his fingers trailing across Jeno’s collarbone in passing, the way his legs always find Jeno’s under the blanket without even thinking.
It’s only been two days, and already, it hurts.
Day 3
By the third day, Jeno thinks he’s adjusted, though not completely, not in any truly functional way, but enough to move through the hours without his body aching violently every time Jaemin simply exists near him.
The temptation never leaves, of course, but Jeno has begun building walls inside his mind with cold showers and neutral facial expressions. If he squints hard enough, it kind of works.
He has a group project meeting that afternoon. He takes it as a win - a few hours away from Jaemin, somewhere he physically can’t reach him even if he wants to.
The meeting is exactly as boring as he expected.
He’s halfway through fixing a slide when his phone buzzes against the table. He checks it without thinking.
Jaemin added to his story.
It’s Jaemin, standing in front of a mirror. A cropped black tank top, loose gray shorts riding low enough to show his waist. His hair’s slightly messy, lips just a little parted, eyes half-lidded in that way Jeno knows isn’t accidental. Jeno thinks he stops breathing for a few seconds.
Jaemin somehow looks so fucking smug, and Jeno knows, he knows, that post is meant for him.
“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Donghyuck, sitting beside him and playing solitaire on his laptop instead of doing group work, leans over just enough to catch a glimpse.
“Oh. Oh. Was that Jaemin?”
Jeno doesn’t answer.
Donghyuck smirks, way too amused, nudging him with an elbow. “That’s rough, buddy.”
Jeno stares at his phone for a long moment after that before dropping it onto the table and leaning back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face as he exhales.
This is stupid. It’s just a bet. Seven days, that’s it.
He’s handled worse than this, way worse, but none of those things involved Jaemin sitting a few streets away, probably smiling to himself and knowing exactly what he’s doing to him.
It’s the way Jeno knows him so well that he can picture exactly how Jaemin looked taking that photo, the tilt of his head, the expression on his face, the way his lips part just slightly when he’s being annoying on purpose. He can hear his voice in his head without even needing to call.
By the time the meeting ends, Jeno hasn’t absorbed a single thing. He sits through the rest of it on autopilot, nodding at the right moments, saying just enough to not seem completely checked out.
All he can think about is going home and seeing Jaemin.
And not being able to touch him when he gets there.
[Jeno]
if i lose this bet it will be because i love you too much
not just because i want you
[Jaemin]
i love u so much too babe
but oh
[Jeno]
i’ve never wanted anyone like this i just want to touch your face and kiss you i’m going crazy
[Jaemin]
you’re ruining me actually
[Jeno]
i want to ruin u but i also want to love u first
[Jaemin]
ehehe
i love u toooooo
Day 4
By the fourth day, Jeno wakes up feeling it in his body. His arms ache in a way that has nothing to do with anything physical, like they’ve been waiting too long to hold someone they’re used to reaching for without thinking.
Around noon, he heads over to Jaemin’s place. They’re supposed to be studying together.
Jaemin is already on the couch when he gets there, laptop open like he’s been working, though nothing on the screen has changed in the last twenty minutes. Jeno knows because he’s been standing there longer than he should, just looking at him.
Jaemin is in Jeno’s favorite oversized black hoodie, the sleeves completely swallowing his hands, and the shortest black shorts Jeno has ever seen in his life. The hoodie hem falls just barely past the curve of his ass, and those tiny shorts make his legs look endless and soft.
Jeno feels something in his chest tighten.
Jaemin is drowning in his clothes, his hair slightly messy, sleeves pulled over his hands. He looks soft and pretty and safe, and all Jeno wants to do is pull him into his lap, wrap both arms around him tight, bury his face in his neck, and hold him for the rest of the day. Kiss his forehead. Tell him how much he loves him without saying a single word.
It isn’t fair. It’s really not fair how pretty Jaemin is.
Jeno wants to touch him so badly, he feels dizzy. Not just to get him off, not just because his body’s been wound tight for four days straight, though that too - but to feel him. He wants to drag his fingers through Jaemin’s hair. Kiss the tip of his nose. Hold him from behind and nuzzle into his shoulder while Jaemin rambles about some gossip he half-cares about, just because he likes he sound of his voice. It's disgusting how completely Jaemin has ruined him just by existing.
Jaemin notices him staring and smirks, tilting his head cutely. He moves again so the hoodie rides even higher.
“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me,” Jaemin teases. “Or are you just thinking about how good it would feel to pin me down right now?”
Jeno swallows hard. He wants to ruin him too, wants to make him cry from pleasure, hear his voice break, leave bruises and bite marks and handprints, push him over the edge again and again. He wants to wreck him and take care of him and give Jaemin everything he’s ever wanted. Sometimes it hits him all at once - how lucky he is. The boy who used to feel like a dream on the other side of the lecture hall now falls asleep next to him almost every night. Most of the time he thinks I’ll never want anything else the way I want you, but sometimes it’s you’re mine, and I wanna show you.
And sometimes, it’s both, and Jeno doesn’t know whether to cry or fuck him into the mattress. He doesn’t know how to want softly anymore, not when it comes to Jaemin.
By 3:00 PM, Jeno has a pen in hand and a textbook he is no longer reading. His notebook is open, mostly empty, except for the fact that in the top right corner, where the date usually goes, he has written the words Na Jaemin five times.
Jeno lets out the most exhausted, fully clothed groan of his life. He has not touched Jaemin or himself. He is holding onto this stupid bet by the tips of his fingers, but none of that compares to the ache in his chest.
He doesn’t just want to kiss Jaemin or bend him over. He wants to hold him, wrap him in his arms, press his lips to his forehead, and feel the warm, fluttery rise of his laugh against his collarbone.
That night, Jeno pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders and closes his eyes, like maybe if he just dreams hard enough, he can feel Jaemin beside him again, warm and safe.
His body still remembers the shape of him, the way Jaemin fits against his chest, the quiet weight of him settling in like it’s second nature. He shifts under the covers, instinctively turning to the side where Jaemin should be, and finds nothing.
The emptiness hits harder in the dark.
He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time, but when he does, it’s with Jaemin’s name on his lips.
Day 5
By the fifth day, Jeno is quieter than usual. He moves through the day in a daze, with too much heat simmering just under the surface and not enough room to let it out. The restraint isn’t the hard part anymore. It’s how Jaemin’s near but with zero relief. Having him right there, and still not being allowed to touch him is slowly driving Jeno insane. And yet Jeno can’t give up or he’ll have to do this for another 5 days.
The baseball team is having a casual party that night - just drinks, music, and hanging out at someone’s place. Jeno invites Jaemin along, of course.
“Wanna come with me?” he asks, but Jaemin just glances up from his bed, where he’s been on his laptop. He smiles sweetly, and Jeno thinks he’s about to short circuit because his boyfriend is way too pretty.
“Mmm, I’d love to, but I’ve got some work to finish. You go though, babe. Have fun.”
Jeno blinks. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Jaemin’s eyes sparkle. “Don’t worry about me.”
Jeno leaves feeling uneasy, but he tells himself it’ll be good to get some space. He puts on loud music on the train and tries to convince himself the night will help.
He lasts about thirty-five minutes at the party. He’s standing in the corner, half-listening to his teammates talk, when his phone buzzes.
Jaemin sent one video attachment with no text.
He doesn’t even try to watch it there. He excuses himself, slipping down the hallway until he finds the bathroom, locking the door behind him before pulling out his AirPods with slightly unsteady hands.
The video starts. Jaemin is lying on their bed in Jeno’s black hoodie, the same one from yesterday. The sleeves are pulled over his hands again, but this time the hoodie is pushed up to his chest. His thighs are spread shamelessly wide, legs bent, and he’s looking straight into the camera with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
“Hi, baby,” Jaemin whispers, voice soft and breathy. “I hope the party’s fun.” His hand is already between his legs. Two slick fingers push slowly in and out of himself as he lets out a tiny whimper. “I was just thinking about you…” He curls his fingers. The wet, obscene sound is crystal clear even on low volume.
"I miss you,” Jaemin adds a third finger with a broken little moan, hips rolling gently to fuck himself deeper. His other hand grips the edge of the hoodie, pulling it higher so Jeno can see the way his cock leaks against his stomach.“I wanted to wait for you,” he continues, voice shaky and sweet, “but I can’t stop thinking about you. About how good you feel inside me…” He looks directly at the camera again, lips parted, eyes dark with that familiar mischievous glint even while he’s falling apart.
“I bet you’re so hard right now at the party… surrounded by people but you can’t do anything about it. Poor Jeno-ya~” Jaemin gasps as he scissors his fingers, showing Jeno exactly how open and wet he is. His thighs tremble slightly. "Come home soon, okay? I’ll keep myself nice and ready for when you win… if you win.”
The video ends, and Jeno stands frozen in the bathroom, breathing hard through his nose, cock straining painfully against his jeans. His heart is pounding so loudly he can hear it over the muffled music from the party. It's not just the sight of Jaemin touching himself that wrecks him. It's the way Jaemin said his name while looking so soft and needy.
[Jeno]
you are so evil
you're going to pay for this
you’re so pretty my baby
[Jaemin]
heheh
only if you win <3
Jeno doesn’t stay at the party much longer after that. By the time he gets back, Jaemin is already at his desk, fully dressed, typing away like nothing happened, like he hasn’t just ruined him from across the city.
He looks up when Jeno walks in and smiles, bright and easy. “You’re back early. How was it?”
Jeno doesn’t answer right away. He just stands there for a second, staring at him, trying to keep his hands at his sides instead of crossing the room and pulling him close, trying not to forget the entire week in the space of a single breath.
Jaemin tilts his head slightly, his expression soft and innocent, but his eyes give him away immediately.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Jeno lets out a quiet breath, his jaw tightening. “You know what you did.”
Jaemin bites back a smile, clearly pleased with himself, like he’s been waiting for this exact reaction.
He’s still pushing, still testing him, still seeing how far he can go.
And Jeno is still holding on, but it’s not clean anymore, not controlled like it was at the start of the week. It feels like he’s gripping something that’s already slipping through his fingers.
Day 6
By the sixth day, Jeno stops pretending he has this under control.
Instead of a dramatic sudden realization where everything crashes at once, Jeno has a quiet feeling that settles in his chest and refuses to leave. Whatever balance he thought he had built over the past few days is gone, worn down slowly by constant proximity and the fact that Jaemin doesn’t even have to try anymore.
That’s what makes it worse. Jaemin isn’t even doing anything outrageous now. The smallest things are enough. The way he smiles over his morning coffee, the way he leans a little too close when he’s talking, the way he exists so comfortably in Jeno’s space.
By noon, Jeno isn’t even pretending to study. His notebook has devolved into frustrated loops and scribbles. In the corner of the page, he’s written:
Na Jaemin is the devil (but he is my baby!!!!)
Na Jaemin causing Jeno’s downfall (pt. 6)
PLEASE LET ME HOLD MY BABY AGAIN
PLEASE
The final breaking point comes not from some dramatic, planned seduction, but from something horrifyingly normal.
He’s standing in the kitchen making coffee, moving on autopilot, trying to focus on something simple, something that doesn’t involve thinking too much, when Jaemin walks in behind him to grab a mug.
It’s barely anything. Just the lightest brush of fingers against Jeno’s lower back as Jaemin reaches past him.
Jeno exhales way too sharply, his shoulders tensing before he can stop himself, and for a second he just stands there, completely still, like even the smallest movement might push him over the edge.
Jaemin notices immediately.
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder, his expression softening just slightly in a way that almost feels unfair after everything he’s been doing all week.
“Tomorrow’s the last day, babe,” he says lightly, though there’s something warmer underneath it now, something quieter. Something fond and warm that makes Jeno want to drop to his knees and beg for mercy.
Jeno grips the edge of the counter, his voice coming out lower than he means it to. “I’m going to fuck you into the floor.”
Jaemin raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting as he turns to lean back against the counter, the movement slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. The hem of his shirt shifts just enough to make it worse, and he doesn’t bother fixing it.
“Not if you lose first,” he replies easily. “You’ve been so strong, Jeno-ya, but I can see it. You want to touch me so bad right now.”
He takes a small step closer, close enough that Jeno can feel the warmth of him, close enough that it would take almost nothing to close the distance completely.
“Just one hug,” Jaemin adds softly, tilting his head. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Jeno doesn’t move.
Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to give in, to just reach out and pull him close, to stop thinking about the rules and the bet and everything else that suddenly feels stupid compared to this.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Jaemin continues softly, his eyes locked on Jeno’s. “About how good it’s gonna feel when you finally snap,”
Jeno’s hands grip the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turn white.
He’s so pretty. So evil and so pretty.
“You’re so cute,” he says lightly, like he hasn’t just completely wrecked him all over again.
Jeno exhales slowly once he’s out of reach, forcing himself to relax his hands, even though the tension doesn’t actually go anywhere.
One more day, that's all it is.
And after everything, after six days of this, of holding himself back, of missing him like this, of wanting him in ways that feel impossible to ignore, Jeno knows one thing for sure.
When this ends, he’s not going to hold back at all.
Day 7
The final day drags.
Jeno moves through it like he’s not fully there, sitting through his afternoon lecture without hearing a single word, staring at his notes without processing any of it.
By the evening, he heads straight to Jaemin’s dorm, telling himself it’s just another normal visit. Dinner, maybe a movie, a few hours to pass, and then midnight will come and this will finally be over.
He unlocks the door quietly and steps inside, then he stops.
Jaemin is asleep on the bed, sprawled out like he dropped there without thinking, wearing nothing but boxers. One arm is thrown over his head, the other resting loosely on his stomach, his face soft and completely unguarded in sleep.
For a moment, Jeno just stands there.
It would be so easy.
To walk over, to sit beside him, to brush his hair back, to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead like he always does. To slip under the blanket and pull him close, like the last six days never happened, to let his hands trail down-
Instead, he turns away.
He goes to the kitchen, puts away the groceries he brought, and starts chopping vegetables like his life depends on it. Anything to keep his hands busy.
Jaemin wakes up not long after and wanders in, still half-asleep, hair messy, voice soft.
“Jeno-ya… you’re cooking?”
Jeno hums in response, not trusting himself to say much more.
Dinner passes quietly. It almost feels normal, which somehow makes it worse. Jaemin sits across from him, talking about his day with Mark and Jeno listens, nodding at the right moments, even though his attention keeps drifting.
Because Jaemin is right there.
And he still can’t touch him.
After they eat, Jaemin disappears into the bedroom again, saying he has something to finish. Jeno stays on the couch, controller in hand, though he hasn’t really been playing.
His eyes keep flicking toward the door.
He checks the time.
11:12.
Then 11:27.
Then 11:43.
Each minute feels slower than the last, like the clock is dragging just to make this worse.
At 11:53, Jaemin appears in the doorway.
He’s wearing one of Jeno’s shirts and nothing else, the fabric hanging low enough to make it obvious, and he leans against the frame like he has all the time in the world, watching him with that same familiar, infuriating expression.
“Last seven minutes,” he says lightly. “You sure you don’t want to give up?”
Jeno doesn’t look at him.
“I’m not talking to you until midnight,” he says, voice steady even though everything in him feels anything but.
Jaemin hums, amused, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking closer, slow and deliberate. “That’s kind of mean,” he scoffs. “After I’ve been so nice to you all week.”
Jeno keeps his eyes on the clock.
“Sure you don’t wanna give up?” Jaemin continues, voice turning softer, sweeter, the kind that’s always dangerous. “I’ll even let you fuck me right now if you admit you lost.”
He takes another step closer, lifting the hem of the shirt just enough to show he’s wearing nothing underneath.
“I’ve been so empty all week,” he adds, quieter now, like he’s letting something real slip through on purpose. “Been opening myself up every night thinking about you. You could end this right now. Just touch me. I won’t add the five days. I promise.”
Jeno stays silent, jaw tight, hands still at his sides even though it takes everything in him not to move.
Jaemin pouts for a second, then smirks again, like he expected that.
“Come on, baby,” he says, stepping even closer. “Seven days is a long time. You’ve been so good, but I can see it. You’re dying to touch me.”
Jeno takes a slow breath. “No. I’m not talking to you until midnight.”
“So mean,” Jaemin whines. “You’re really going to ignore me for the last few minutes?” He slides a hand slowly up his own thigh, pushing the shirt higher, just enough to make it worse.
“I thought better of you, Jeno-ya,” he adds, voice dropping. “I thought you had more control than this.”
Jeno doesn’t react, but his jaw clenches harder.
“But look at you,” Jaemin continues, circling closer to the couch, not touching, never touching. “Sitting there all stiff and desperate. You probably can’t even last until midnight, can you?” He lets out a quiet, mocking laugh. “Be honest. You want to grab me right now, don’t you? I’d forgive you if you lost.”
Jeno keeps his eyes fixed on the wall clock, refusing to look at him, because he knows one glance would be enough to break him.
Jaemin doesn’t stop. He never does.
“Aww, ignoring me now?” he huffs, leaning closer, voice dropping into that soft, taunting tone he knows gets to him. “That’s cute.”
He moves just a little closer, close enough that Jeno can feel him there, warm and familiar and impossible to ignore.
“Just say it,” Jaemin whispers. “Say you lose, and I’ll let you have me right here. No extra days. I promise I’ll be good for you.”
He pauses, then adds, quieter, like he’s daring him—
“Or are you scared you actually can’t control yourself?”
11:56.
Jaemin keeps talking, circling, pushing, lifting the hem of the shirt just enough each time to make it worse, throwing out one comment after another like he’s trying to chip away at whatever control Jeno has left.
“Last chance,” he says lightly. “I’ll be so sweet if you give in now.”
Jeno doesn’t look at him.
Four minutes. After six days of this.
Jaemin said he wouldn’t add extra days, but Jeno knows him too well. He absolutely would, and he’d never let him forget it.
And he’s not about to throw everything away for four minutes, not after missing him like this, so Jeno stays still, scrolling on his phone like it matters, like he’s not aware of every step Jaemin takes around him.
By 11:58, Jeno’s breathing has gone shallow, his whole body tight with the effort of holding still. His phone is still in his hand, thumb idly scrolling, but he hasn’t actually read anything in minutes.
Jaemin leans over the back of the couch, close enough that Jeno can feel his breath against his ear, warm and deliberate.
“Last chance, baby,” he murmurs. “Just admit it. You know you want to—”
Jeno closes his eyes for a second, cutting him off without a word.
Two minutes. That’s all it is.
He exhales slowly, forcing himself to focus on something other than the heat of Jaemin right behind him, something other than how easy it would be to turn his head just slightly and close the distance. Instead, his mind drifts back to the first night, then the second, to the way the bed felt too big, too quiet, every time he reached out and found nothing there. He tightens his grip on his phone slightly, grounding himself in that instead, in something small and controlled, even as everything else feels like it’s slipping.
He can’t lose now.
For a second after the clock turns to midnight, neither of them moves.
Jeno is still sitting there, phone loose in his hand, chest rising and falling a little too fast, like his body hasn’t caught up yet. Jaemin is still close, still hovering just out of reach, watching him with that same look, curious, a little smug, like he’s waiting to see what happens now that the rules don’t apply anymore.
“So,” Jaemin says lightly, tilting his head, “what are you gonna—”
Jeno doesn’t let him finish.
He stands, quick and decisive, closing the distance in two steps and grabbing Jaemin by the waist, pulling him in like he’s been holding himself back for too long. Jaemin makes a surprised sound into his mouth, hands coming up instinctively to grab at Jeno’s shirt, but Jeno doesn’t pull away right away. He keeps him there, kissing him like he’s been holding it in all week, like he doesn’t know where to stop now that he finally can.
“Missed you,” he mutters, almost under his breath.
Then he lifts him easily, like the decision’s already been made, and carries him to the bedroom, dropping him onto the bed in one smooth motion before leaning over him again, not giving him time to recover. The shirt is gone in seconds, pushed up and off, and Jeno’s hands are firm, impatient, but not careless, one of them sliding along Jaemin’s side to steady him while the other reaches for the lube without looking.
He coats his fingers generously before pressing two thick fingers against Jaemin’s entrance. He pushes in slowly, stretching his boyfriend open with careful, deliberate movements.
Jeno curls his fingers hard against that sensitive spot inside him, scissoring them. “You’ve been such a little bitch this entire week. Who the hell do you think you are?” He adds a third finger and thrusts deeper, his free hand stroking along Jaemin’s spine almost tenderly.
“Sending me that video while I was at the party, wearing my hoodie with those tiny shorts, laughing in my face at midnight like I wouldn’t make you pay for every single tease. Do you have any idea how much I missed you?"
Jaemin tries to laugh, still clinging to his attitude even as his thighs begin to tremble. “I’m just— nngh— having fun… you’re being so dramatic—”
Jeno speeds up his fingers, curling them more insistently until Jaemin’s words dissolve into a broken moan. Without warning, he pulls his fingers out, slicks himself properly, and pushes in with one long, forceful thrust, bottoming out in a single smooth motion. Jaemin cries out, fingers scrabbling at the sheets as his body adjusts to the sudden fullness.
Jeno starts moving with deep, punishing strokes, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. Even then, he leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Jaemin’s shoulder and the back of his neck, his lips lingering between each movement. “I missed you so fucking much,” he says, voice thick with emotion even as his pace stays relentless. “Every single day without touching you feels like torture.”
Jaemin's voice shakes. “Yeah? That’s it? After all that build-up you’re just— fuck— gonna pound me like this? I thought you had more in you—”
Jeno slows suddenly, shifting into a deep, controlled grind that drags against Jaemin's prostate in a way that makes his voice catch mid-sentence.
“Why are you whimpering, baby?” Jeno says quietly, leaning closer. “Weren’t you just talking so big a second ago?”
Jaemin swallows hard, trying to recover even as his body gives him away. “I’m not— I’m literally not— you’re just— ah— doing that on purpose—”
“I am,” Jeno replies simply. He stays there for a second longer, dragging it out, watching Jaemin fall apart in real time. Jaemin’s face is buried in the pillow, his shoulders shaking. Then, a sniffle breaks the silence of the room.
Jeno pauses, tilting his head to see the way tears are beginning to soak into the pillowcase. He lets out a soft, mocking hum.
“Aww, look at you. Poor baby. Why are you crying?” Jeno’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, his lips brushing against Jaemin’s burning ear. “Is it too much? You were so brave ten minutes ago when the clock hadn't hit midnight.”
Jaemin lets out another frustrated, broken sob, his hips twitching before he can stop himself. “Don’t— don’t stop like that— shut up—”
“Make me,” Jeno whispers.
The second Jaemin tries to find his voice again, Jeno pushes back in hard, knocking the rest of his words out of him. The rhythm picks up, fast and relentless. Jaemin’s body jerks forward with each movement, his grip tightening helplessly on the sheets as he continues to cry.
“Still talking?” Jeno mutters.
Jaemin tries anyway, stubborn to the end. “I— I can— fuck— I can handle it—”
Jeno slows again, cutting him off completely, the shift making Jaemin’s breath hitch. “Yeah? Then why are you shaking? Why are you sobbing into my bed, Nana?”
Jaemin doesn’t answer right away, his breathing uneven, his composure slipping more with every second. Jeno leans down, pressing softer kisses to the nape of his neck, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You spent seven days teasing me, driving me insane…”
Jaemin lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. “I didn’t think you’d— fuck— actually—”
“Actually what?” Jeno presses.
Jaemin’s fingers curl tighter into the sheets. “Actually make me— feel it like this— I can't think— please—”
Jeno exhales softly against his skin, his hand tightening where it rests against Jaemin's waist, grounding him there as everything starts to unravel.
“Then say it,” he murmurs.
Jaemin shakes his head instinctively, still resisting, even now. “I— I’m not—”
Jeno slows again, dragging his cock against that internal spot until Jaemin’s voice breaks completely.
“Say it,” Jeno repeats, quieter this time.
That’s when Jaemin finally gives in, his voice cracking as he sobs into the mattress.
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out shaky and uneven. “I was being a whore, I was rude— I just— I missed you— I wanted you so bad, Jeno, please, I love you,"
Jeno doesn’t interrupt this time. He stays close, steady, letting him finish.
“I’m sorry, Jeno, I love you—” Jaemin repeats, softer now, like he means it.
And only then does Jeno push him over the edge, holding him there through his orgasm instead of pulling away, letting Jaemin fall apart while still keeping him close. When Jeno finally comes deep inside him, he stays buried to the hilt, wrapping both arms around Jaemin's waist and pulling his shaking, tear-stained boyfriend back against his chest.
"I love you," Jeno settles on his side, pulling Jaemin’s back tight against his chest, one arm locked around his waist, the other sliding up to cradle Jaemin’s head.
“Shh, baby,” He presses slow, gentle kisses to the back of Jaemin’s neck, then his shoulder, then the shell of his ear. “I’ve got you.” He nuzzles into Jaemin’s damp hair, breathing him in like he’s starved for it.
"I really missed you, you know,” he whispers, lips brushing skin with every word. “Seven whole days without touching you was killing me.” He kisses along Jaemin’s spine, one hand gently stroking his side while the other stays wrapped possessively around his waist. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to just pull you into my lap and hug you until you couldn’t breathe,” Jeno continues softly, still rocking his hips in the tiniest, gentlest movements.
Jaemin lets out a tiny, broken whine, still too fucked out to speak properly. His body shudders again as another wave of sensitivity hits him. Jeno kisses the tears off his cheek, then his temple, then the corner of his mouth. "You were such a little shit,” he murmurs fondly, pressing another kiss to Jaemin’s jaw. “But I missed you every single second.” He tightens his arms around Jaemin.
“I love you,” Jaemin whispers. His voice comes out tiny and hoarse. Jeno smiles against the back of Jaemin’s neck, eyes softening as he presses one more gentle kiss there.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, hugging him even tighter, cock still buried deep inside him. He keeps stroking Jaemin’s hair gently, kissing his shoulder and temple over and over, holding him safe and warm in his arms while Jaemin slowly melts into the embrace, too exhausted and blissed-out to do anything but let himself be loved.
Day 8, Noon