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JE Fic: This Charming Man (Jin/OC, Jin/Yamapi)
Title: This Charming Man
Pairing/Group: Jin/OC, Yamapi/Jin implied
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex. Het.
Summary: Written in exactly 60 minutes for the One Hour Porn challenge taking place later tonight (work prevented me from doing it 'live'!), on the theme of Yamapi's recent dirty An-An photoshoot. Please check back later, as I'll link to the other fics in the challenge then. :)
ETA: The other fics are: artemisgoddess | bloodybrilliant | devetir | goldengutgirl | grunhilda | jackoweskla | karinberry | pearljemz | procreational | shichihenge | tinyangl | travelingpsycho. Check them out!
The problem with climbing through windows is simply that it doesn't work as well in your twenties as it does when you were fifteen. Yamapi is glad for the flexibility his training has provided him as he crams his elbows and his knees into the frame. He's also glad that Jin lives in a ground floor apartment, or sneaking in in the middle of the night would be even more treacherous than it already is. Surprisingly, none of the neighbours have ever called the police.
A lot of strange things must happen in Jin's apartment. That's the only explanation.
Once inside, Yamapi creeps towards the bedroom. His plan is to jump on Jin whilst he's asleep, to frighten the living daylights out of him. They both have tomorrow off, and he's hoping that once Jin is over the shock, he'll allow Yamapi to stay at his and they'll spend the next day watching old movies and eating too much.
The bedroom is dark, which is a good sign, but when Yamapi pushes the door open, he sees instantly that the bed is empty. Jin is out, and without having invited Yamapi – Yamapi will have to do more than frighten him when he returns. With a sigh, he heads for the fridge, intent on some thieving revenge. He swipes some of Jin's favourite juice and some crisps and makes himself comfortable in Jin's room. Jin has plenty of exciting things to keep somebody busy, and Yamapi's done the waiting game more times than he wants to remember.
He plays with Jin's Playstation 3 for a while. He hasn't gotten around to buying one himself, whereas Jin always buys things the second they come out. He has no patience. Yamapi thinks that it's a good reason for being friends with him: Yamapi doesn't need to shell out, when Jin always will. And playing Halo 3 is more fun with somebody else than it is alone.
He checks his watch. 3.30am. Can't be long now.
At 3.41am, the door opens. Yamapi grins to himself, switches off the console, looks around him and makes up his mind very fast. He drops everything and races for the cupboard. He'll give Jin the shock of his life. Jin will expect Yamapi to be in his bed, if he expects him at all. He'd never anticipate Yamapi being in the wardrobe. And when he goes to hang up his clothes-
There's footsteps in the living room, but they're not precise. Yamapi assumes that Jin is drunk, he must be. His feet don't sound like they're hitting the ground, more like tripping. He hopes that Jin won't pass out on the sofa. That would ruin the surprise. After a couple of minutes, Jin stumbles into his bedroom. He's giggling. Definitely drunk, then.
Only, there's somebody with him, and she's giggling back.
“Ah fuck,” Yamapi mutters.
In his heart, Yamapi is hoping that nothing will come of this. That maybe they'll just play some Halo 3 and then she'll go home. But she's gorgeous, full-lipped and with breasts and, fuck, Western, so there's not even the slightest hope that Jin's brought her here to play video games. Yamapi curses himself for not pulling the blinds shut because the light of the moon plays on the two of them: Jin has her up against the wall, and he's kissing her neck and her jaw whilst his hand plays up the back of her thigh. She's lifting one leg up and the fabric of her dress falls into the void, and Yamapi doesn't want to look, he desperately doesn't want to look but it's fascinating.
This is the only thing that he and Jin don't talk about, because it's a bit weird. They talk about sex, but they can't talk about how they do it, about their tastes, their techniques. They just talk about the girls, about the sex itself. They don't talk about their part in it. Watching this is like seeing another side of Jin, one Yamapi's never seen before. Jin's other hand is splayed against the wall and his body covers her, Yamapi can only see that extended leg, the lifting of her chin. He can hear her breathing. Jin moves his hand lower, through the curtain of her dress, and Yamapi struggles to see through the gap in the doors-- he can't quite get there, but she moans, the girl, and Yamapi suddenly knows exactly what's going on. He closes his eyes, because it's just. Jin. Is so fucking slutty.
When he opens them (because somehow, it's worse when your eyes are closed, everything becomes so loud), she's moving her hips against his hand and he's chuckling, kissing, chuckling. And her hands are working on his belt-buckle, there's a definitive click and slide, and Yamapi thinks that he can't bear this anymore. He'll risk Jin's fury, he'll leave the way he came in. Jin's hand crinkles as she wraps her hand around him and there's a bit of mutual thrusting, a bit of awkward moving, and Jin's moan adds to hers and Yamapi has to stick his fingers in his ears so as not to hear it. Jin's head is tilted back and his hips move gently, the same way his hand does, and Yamapi can't bear it.
And then she pulls back, he sees it as much as he hears it in Jin's voice. She turns Jin around and climbs onto the bed, taking off her shoes. It gives Yamapi a perfect view and he curses her, whoever she is, because it was a whole lot easier to ignore when they were off to the side and against the wall.
“I would have fucked you there,” Jin says with a Californian lilt and Yamapi grabs onto the shelf to steady himself. He has no idea what Jin said, other than it included the word 'fuck' and when Jin says 'fuck' in English it's weirdly hot.
“How romantic,” she replies, smooth and confident, and waits for him to join her. She lies back on the bed and when he does join her, she strokes the back of his calf with her bare foot. Jin starts with her mouth and kisses down, moving her dress down her shoulders and down her body until it crinkles and he can slide it down her legs. He kisses the flesh as its exposed, down her breasts to her hips, and she lies with her arms above her head, softly moaning.
The weird thing about Jin is that he does things that Yamapi wouldn't dare do, unless the girl was somebody he knew well. Jin is forward and kind of dirty and Yamapi's not sure how he feels about that. The girl arches her back when Jin takes her breasts in his palms, sucks on each nipple, probably smirking. She grabs hold of his hair and then she kisses him, hard. Yamapi's not sure how he feels about this. He's not sure why he feels that he should have feelings, why he can't just ignore the whole thing. He wishes he'd stayed at home.
They just don't talk about this. They don't talk about what they like to do to a woman. Jin told Yamapi when he lost his virginity, and vice versa, but they didn't have technique so they just used words like “good” and “fucking good” and expected one another to understand. Now that they're older, they don't talk about their conquests much. Jin doesn't tell Yamapi that his grip is almost a grope, that he's rough when he tugs a woman down the bed. He doesn't tell Yamapi that he pulls off their underwear in a smooth gesture, that he goes down on a woman because he likes the sound of her swearing at him--
Yamapi doesn't know any of these things about Jin, and finding out this way isn't good for his blood pressure. He wishes in a weird way that he could be disgusted, because that'd be easier to cope with. This is a nightmare because when he watches it, this girl pushing her hips against Jin's open, wet mouth, all Yamapi feels is hard in his trousers, and that's a whole can of worms he doesn't want to open.
She has her hands in his hair as if she'll never let go. Yamapi closes his eyes, trying to will himself elsewhere. Maybe if he repeats his address seven times in his head, he'll find himself transported there. Seven repetitions later, he's still in Jin's closet, he's still hard as nails and he's still watching Jin getting off some girl he's pulled, somewhere. He must be as hard as Yamapi is. Probably moreso. Yamapi aches for him, a bit. He aches for her, too, when Jin pulls away and audibly licks his lips. When Jin looks down at her like he's never wanted anything more in his life-- at least, that's what Yamapi assumes, because she's smiling and undoing her bra.
“Leave it,” Jin says, and she stops, and she motions for him to lie down. She moves his jeans and his underwear down his hips and pushes them off the side of the bed, stroking his exposed cock, and that's a bit too much for Yamapi. He's seen Jin naked, obviously, but never with the addition of a female hand. He looks away for a moment, until he hears her rifling in the bedside drawer, until he hears Jin's voice all soft and pliant, and then until he hears nothing at all. He looks back, then, and she's rolling on a condom, which Jin seems to find hot because he's smirking, he would, and then he's holding onto her hips and moving her into his lap.
“Shit,” Yamapi mutters. “Shit, shit, shit-”
“Fuck,” Jin mutters.
“Shut up,” Yamapi replies, under his breath. “Just shut up. Maybe we'll both get through this alive.”
The view Yamapi has is simultaneously the best and worst in the world. He can't see the girl from the front, so he can't see that her breasts are probably firm and moving under Jin's hands, spilling out of the top of her bra because Jin isn't exactly the gentle type. He can't see that, which is probably good for him and his erection. But what he imagines is worse, so much worse. And to top it all off, what he can see is Jin, Jin's tilted face, his hands, every expression of pleasure that rolls lazily across his face. Yamapi can see that, and that's so much worse. It's worse because it isn't softening him. If anything, it's making him harder.
That makes no sense. If he could see the girl, he could blame his libido, his heterosexuality, his having not got any for a little while. But all he can see is Jin and Jin's pleasure, and that shouldn't be turning him on. Trust Jin. Trust fucking Jin.
He's not surprised that Jin likes her on top: it's very him. Partly it's because Jin's lazy and partly it's because Jin's egotistical. He loves to see the results of his labour. And a girl writhing about on his cock, her breasts moving in his hands and her face so open to him, that's some results right there. His eyes are locked onto her face, wide and dark and gorgeous, and as she moves and sets the pace he runs a hand down her back as if to feel the movement running through her hips. His hand rests there for a moment, and then it moves back around, and there's a wry smirk on his face then, which Yamapi doesn't understand until he realises where Jin's hand is, and Jin closes his eyes as she gasps.
It works: she only moves faster when there's the friction of Jin's thumb, and Yamapi hates Jin and women and Japan and everything that contributed to them ever meeting. He'd rather be anywhere than here, locked in a closet being aroused by his best friend and some girl fucking. All he wants, more than anything, is to touch himself, but he can't because it's Jin and that's a whole other dimension of weird he doesn't think he can stand to delve into.
“Fuck, yes,” Jin says, louder, and that's really all the encouragement Yamapi can bear. It's not really touching himself, just giving him a bit of friction, rubbing up against his fist, a little friction, not really wanking. That's what he'll tell himself as he watches Jin get off, as he watches Jin's girl get off, as there's a whole world of getting off right there for Yamapi to watch. He's not really wanking, he's just taking the edge off. Yep.
Her hands are above her head and she's pulling her hair up with them, the back of neck exposed and beautiful. Her bra is coming undone at the back but she doesn't seem to care. Her hips rock backwards and forwards so fast Yamapi can hardly understand how Jin's still conscious, and to be fair, his eyes are closed hard and he's grunting and his own hips are moving and his free hand is clenching around her waist. She rests one hand on his shoulder and moves forward, and there's kissing-gasping-kissing, annoyingly open-mouthed and noisy, and Jin just drinks her in, drinks in the contact and the mutual need. Her other hand covers his between her legs, showing him a slightly different way, and he responds silently to her. When he does, faster and harder, she reaches forward and grabs the thin metal bars on the headboard.
She lets him fuck upwards, breathing erratically, her whole body shaking. Jin's chin is tilted up and her shoulder obscures most of his face, but Yamapi can hear the kissing, the way it smudges the sounds in Jin's throat, the moans and the grunts that never fully make it out of his mouth. His hand is clutching her waist hard enough to hurt and his hand is moving so fast and his hips are moving so hard, and she's moaning and moaning and moaning. Yamapi digs his fist inside his trousers, no longer caring what he's jerking off to, no longer caring about anything but how much he needs to come before he dies in Jin's closet.
Keeping silent is almost impossible, but they're being so loud it doesn't matter that the odd sound escapes. Yamapi thinks he could probably leave the closet and jerk off in front of them and they're both so involved that they wouldn't even notice. Jin says something, then, and that only makes Yamapi tug harder, the Japanese all broken and beautiful.
“What?” she breathes, unable to understand. He's unable to find the words, the English words, and he repeats himself in rapid, stuttering Japanese. Yamapi understands but she doesn't, and it's like a filthy secret, like he's speaking to Yamapi and not to her, and that's a dangerous route to go down, but.
She looks at his face and seems to understand, somewhere, and her whole body jerks, then goes absolutely still. And when the moment breaks, she cries out, and then, as if she's permitted it, he does too. The noise is so honest and so true, Jin's head against her shoulder, his hand holding on so tight, his voice so real and so shuddering, Yamapi comes without much warning. He hits his head against one of the doors but he doesn't think anybody notices. The sound of breathing is louder than gunfire.
She's breathing, pleased breathing, stretching her whole body out. It makes Jin's breath catch in his throat, and that makes her laugh.
“Is that juice,” she says, motioning to something on the floor, something Yamapi realises with a cold start is the juice he was drinking before Jin got here. “Can I have some?”
Jin stares at the floor and then at the closet, and for a horrible second, Yamapi thinks that he's worked it out, but then the moment passes and he just nods, breathless and boneless and content.
When Yamapi does his An-An shoot some weeks later, it's awkward and embarrassing. The model he's working with has been instructed to straddle him and it's a closed set, so there's not many people about, but still. Embarrassing. He can't get his cock to behave, and he apologises to her a thousand times for it, but she doesn't seem fussed about it. Not even in the least mortified, which is just as well because Yamapi has enough mortification for the both of them.
When she leans forward and her breasts nearly press against him, Yamapi realises that the problem isn't that he can't stop thinking about fucking her. It isn't that he's horny and having a naked woman on top of him isn't helping. It's that when she leans forward and her hair fans out and her legs press tightly against his own – it's that he's not thinking of a woman at all. He's thinking about fluffy hair and fast, fluid hips, and big, dark eyes, but none of those belong to a woman.
“It's okay,” she says, in broken English. “I've done this before. It's a normal reaction, yes? Bits and pieces working fine.”
Yamapi isn't sure how to respond to that. So he just smiles, through gritted teeth, and tries to push the thought of Jin out of his head.
When the shoot is over, Yamapi decides to go for a drink on his own, to process it all. He checks his messages in the bar, and there's one from Jin.
Can't wait to see the pics. Did you use that night you were in my closet as inspiration?
Jin.
I think we need to talk. But – how did you know? Was it the juice?
Yamapi.
No, Jin replies. I saw you through the crack in the door. The light through the window. I knew you were there, when I lay down on the bed. You're right. We need to talk.
Pairing/Group: Jin/OC, Yamapi/Jin implied
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex. Het.
Summary: Written in exactly 60 minutes for the One Hour Porn challenge taking place later tonight (work prevented me from doing it 'live'!), on the theme of Yamapi's recent dirty An-An photoshoot. Please check back later, as I'll link to the other fics in the challenge then. :)
ETA: The other fics are: artemisgoddess | bloodybrilliant | devetir | goldengutgirl | grunhilda | jackoweskla | karinberry | pearljemz | procreational | shichihenge | tinyangl | travelingpsycho. Check them out!
The problem with climbing through windows is simply that it doesn't work as well in your twenties as it does when you were fifteen. Yamapi is glad for the flexibility his training has provided him as he crams his elbows and his knees into the frame. He's also glad that Jin lives in a ground floor apartment, or sneaking in in the middle of the night would be even more treacherous than it already is. Surprisingly, none of the neighbours have ever called the police.
A lot of strange things must happen in Jin's apartment. That's the only explanation.
Once inside, Yamapi creeps towards the bedroom. His plan is to jump on Jin whilst he's asleep, to frighten the living daylights out of him. They both have tomorrow off, and he's hoping that once Jin is over the shock, he'll allow Yamapi to stay at his and they'll spend the next day watching old movies and eating too much.
The bedroom is dark, which is a good sign, but when Yamapi pushes the door open, he sees instantly that the bed is empty. Jin is out, and without having invited Yamapi – Yamapi will have to do more than frighten him when he returns. With a sigh, he heads for the fridge, intent on some thieving revenge. He swipes some of Jin's favourite juice and some crisps and makes himself comfortable in Jin's room. Jin has plenty of exciting things to keep somebody busy, and Yamapi's done the waiting game more times than he wants to remember.
He plays with Jin's Playstation 3 for a while. He hasn't gotten around to buying one himself, whereas Jin always buys things the second they come out. He has no patience. Yamapi thinks that it's a good reason for being friends with him: Yamapi doesn't need to shell out, when Jin always will. And playing Halo 3 is more fun with somebody else than it is alone.
He checks his watch. 3.30am. Can't be long now.
At 3.41am, the door opens. Yamapi grins to himself, switches off the console, looks around him and makes up his mind very fast. He drops everything and races for the cupboard. He'll give Jin the shock of his life. Jin will expect Yamapi to be in his bed, if he expects him at all. He'd never anticipate Yamapi being in the wardrobe. And when he goes to hang up his clothes-
There's footsteps in the living room, but they're not precise. Yamapi assumes that Jin is drunk, he must be. His feet don't sound like they're hitting the ground, more like tripping. He hopes that Jin won't pass out on the sofa. That would ruin the surprise. After a couple of minutes, Jin stumbles into his bedroom. He's giggling. Definitely drunk, then.
Only, there's somebody with him, and she's giggling back.
“Ah fuck,” Yamapi mutters.
In his heart, Yamapi is hoping that nothing will come of this. That maybe they'll just play some Halo 3 and then she'll go home. But she's gorgeous, full-lipped and with breasts and, fuck, Western, so there's not even the slightest hope that Jin's brought her here to play video games. Yamapi curses himself for not pulling the blinds shut because the light of the moon plays on the two of them: Jin has her up against the wall, and he's kissing her neck and her jaw whilst his hand plays up the back of her thigh. She's lifting one leg up and the fabric of her dress falls into the void, and Yamapi doesn't want to look, he desperately doesn't want to look but it's fascinating.
This is the only thing that he and Jin don't talk about, because it's a bit weird. They talk about sex, but they can't talk about how they do it, about their tastes, their techniques. They just talk about the girls, about the sex itself. They don't talk about their part in it. Watching this is like seeing another side of Jin, one Yamapi's never seen before. Jin's other hand is splayed against the wall and his body covers her, Yamapi can only see that extended leg, the lifting of her chin. He can hear her breathing. Jin moves his hand lower, through the curtain of her dress, and Yamapi struggles to see through the gap in the doors-- he can't quite get there, but she moans, the girl, and Yamapi suddenly knows exactly what's going on. He closes his eyes, because it's just. Jin. Is so fucking slutty.
When he opens them (because somehow, it's worse when your eyes are closed, everything becomes so loud), she's moving her hips against his hand and he's chuckling, kissing, chuckling. And her hands are working on his belt-buckle, there's a definitive click and slide, and Yamapi thinks that he can't bear this anymore. He'll risk Jin's fury, he'll leave the way he came in. Jin's hand crinkles as she wraps her hand around him and there's a bit of mutual thrusting, a bit of awkward moving, and Jin's moan adds to hers and Yamapi has to stick his fingers in his ears so as not to hear it. Jin's head is tilted back and his hips move gently, the same way his hand does, and Yamapi can't bear it.
And then she pulls back, he sees it as much as he hears it in Jin's voice. She turns Jin around and climbs onto the bed, taking off her shoes. It gives Yamapi a perfect view and he curses her, whoever she is, because it was a whole lot easier to ignore when they were off to the side and against the wall.
“I would have fucked you there,” Jin says with a Californian lilt and Yamapi grabs onto the shelf to steady himself. He has no idea what Jin said, other than it included the word 'fuck' and when Jin says 'fuck' in English it's weirdly hot.
“How romantic,” she replies, smooth and confident, and waits for him to join her. She lies back on the bed and when he does join her, she strokes the back of his calf with her bare foot. Jin starts with her mouth and kisses down, moving her dress down her shoulders and down her body until it crinkles and he can slide it down her legs. He kisses the flesh as its exposed, down her breasts to her hips, and she lies with her arms above her head, softly moaning.
The weird thing about Jin is that he does things that Yamapi wouldn't dare do, unless the girl was somebody he knew well. Jin is forward and kind of dirty and Yamapi's not sure how he feels about that. The girl arches her back when Jin takes her breasts in his palms, sucks on each nipple, probably smirking. She grabs hold of his hair and then she kisses him, hard. Yamapi's not sure how he feels about this. He's not sure why he feels that he should have feelings, why he can't just ignore the whole thing. He wishes he'd stayed at home.
They just don't talk about this. They don't talk about what they like to do to a woman. Jin told Yamapi when he lost his virginity, and vice versa, but they didn't have technique so they just used words like “good” and “fucking good” and expected one another to understand. Now that they're older, they don't talk about their conquests much. Jin doesn't tell Yamapi that his grip is almost a grope, that he's rough when he tugs a woman down the bed. He doesn't tell Yamapi that he pulls off their underwear in a smooth gesture, that he goes down on a woman because he likes the sound of her swearing at him--
Yamapi doesn't know any of these things about Jin, and finding out this way isn't good for his blood pressure. He wishes in a weird way that he could be disgusted, because that'd be easier to cope with. This is a nightmare because when he watches it, this girl pushing her hips against Jin's open, wet mouth, all Yamapi feels is hard in his trousers, and that's a whole can of worms he doesn't want to open.
She has her hands in his hair as if she'll never let go. Yamapi closes his eyes, trying to will himself elsewhere. Maybe if he repeats his address seven times in his head, he'll find himself transported there. Seven repetitions later, he's still in Jin's closet, he's still hard as nails and he's still watching Jin getting off some girl he's pulled, somewhere. He must be as hard as Yamapi is. Probably moreso. Yamapi aches for him, a bit. He aches for her, too, when Jin pulls away and audibly licks his lips. When Jin looks down at her like he's never wanted anything more in his life-- at least, that's what Yamapi assumes, because she's smiling and undoing her bra.
“Leave it,” Jin says, and she stops, and she motions for him to lie down. She moves his jeans and his underwear down his hips and pushes them off the side of the bed, stroking his exposed cock, and that's a bit too much for Yamapi. He's seen Jin naked, obviously, but never with the addition of a female hand. He looks away for a moment, until he hears her rifling in the bedside drawer, until he hears Jin's voice all soft and pliant, and then until he hears nothing at all. He looks back, then, and she's rolling on a condom, which Jin seems to find hot because he's smirking, he would, and then he's holding onto her hips and moving her into his lap.
“Shit,” Yamapi mutters. “Shit, shit, shit-”
“Fuck,” Jin mutters.
“Shut up,” Yamapi replies, under his breath. “Just shut up. Maybe we'll both get through this alive.”
The view Yamapi has is simultaneously the best and worst in the world. He can't see the girl from the front, so he can't see that her breasts are probably firm and moving under Jin's hands, spilling out of the top of her bra because Jin isn't exactly the gentle type. He can't see that, which is probably good for him and his erection. But what he imagines is worse, so much worse. And to top it all off, what he can see is Jin, Jin's tilted face, his hands, every expression of pleasure that rolls lazily across his face. Yamapi can see that, and that's so much worse. It's worse because it isn't softening him. If anything, it's making him harder.
That makes no sense. If he could see the girl, he could blame his libido, his heterosexuality, his having not got any for a little while. But all he can see is Jin and Jin's pleasure, and that shouldn't be turning him on. Trust Jin. Trust fucking Jin.
He's not surprised that Jin likes her on top: it's very him. Partly it's because Jin's lazy and partly it's because Jin's egotistical. He loves to see the results of his labour. And a girl writhing about on his cock, her breasts moving in his hands and her face so open to him, that's some results right there. His eyes are locked onto her face, wide and dark and gorgeous, and as she moves and sets the pace he runs a hand down her back as if to feel the movement running through her hips. His hand rests there for a moment, and then it moves back around, and there's a wry smirk on his face then, which Yamapi doesn't understand until he realises where Jin's hand is, and Jin closes his eyes as she gasps.
It works: she only moves faster when there's the friction of Jin's thumb, and Yamapi hates Jin and women and Japan and everything that contributed to them ever meeting. He'd rather be anywhere than here, locked in a closet being aroused by his best friend and some girl fucking. All he wants, more than anything, is to touch himself, but he can't because it's Jin and that's a whole other dimension of weird he doesn't think he can stand to delve into.
“Fuck, yes,” Jin says, louder, and that's really all the encouragement Yamapi can bear. It's not really touching himself, just giving him a bit of friction, rubbing up against his fist, a little friction, not really wanking. That's what he'll tell himself as he watches Jin get off, as he watches Jin's girl get off, as there's a whole world of getting off right there for Yamapi to watch. He's not really wanking, he's just taking the edge off. Yep.
Her hands are above her head and she's pulling her hair up with them, the back of neck exposed and beautiful. Her bra is coming undone at the back but she doesn't seem to care. Her hips rock backwards and forwards so fast Yamapi can hardly understand how Jin's still conscious, and to be fair, his eyes are closed hard and he's grunting and his own hips are moving and his free hand is clenching around her waist. She rests one hand on his shoulder and moves forward, and there's kissing-gasping-kissing, annoyingly open-mouthed and noisy, and Jin just drinks her in, drinks in the contact and the mutual need. Her other hand covers his between her legs, showing him a slightly different way, and he responds silently to her. When he does, faster and harder, she reaches forward and grabs the thin metal bars on the headboard.
She lets him fuck upwards, breathing erratically, her whole body shaking. Jin's chin is tilted up and her shoulder obscures most of his face, but Yamapi can hear the kissing, the way it smudges the sounds in Jin's throat, the moans and the grunts that never fully make it out of his mouth. His hand is clutching her waist hard enough to hurt and his hand is moving so fast and his hips are moving so hard, and she's moaning and moaning and moaning. Yamapi digs his fist inside his trousers, no longer caring what he's jerking off to, no longer caring about anything but how much he needs to come before he dies in Jin's closet.
Keeping silent is almost impossible, but they're being so loud it doesn't matter that the odd sound escapes. Yamapi thinks he could probably leave the closet and jerk off in front of them and they're both so involved that they wouldn't even notice. Jin says something, then, and that only makes Yamapi tug harder, the Japanese all broken and beautiful.
“What?” she breathes, unable to understand. He's unable to find the words, the English words, and he repeats himself in rapid, stuttering Japanese. Yamapi understands but she doesn't, and it's like a filthy secret, like he's speaking to Yamapi and not to her, and that's a dangerous route to go down, but.
She looks at his face and seems to understand, somewhere, and her whole body jerks, then goes absolutely still. And when the moment breaks, she cries out, and then, as if she's permitted it, he does too. The noise is so honest and so true, Jin's head against her shoulder, his hand holding on so tight, his voice so real and so shuddering, Yamapi comes without much warning. He hits his head against one of the doors but he doesn't think anybody notices. The sound of breathing is louder than gunfire.
She's breathing, pleased breathing, stretching her whole body out. It makes Jin's breath catch in his throat, and that makes her laugh.
“Is that juice,” she says, motioning to something on the floor, something Yamapi realises with a cold start is the juice he was drinking before Jin got here. “Can I have some?”
Jin stares at the floor and then at the closet, and for a horrible second, Yamapi thinks that he's worked it out, but then the moment passes and he just nods, breathless and boneless and content.
When Yamapi does his An-An shoot some weeks later, it's awkward and embarrassing. The model he's working with has been instructed to straddle him and it's a closed set, so there's not many people about, but still. Embarrassing. He can't get his cock to behave, and he apologises to her a thousand times for it, but she doesn't seem fussed about it. Not even in the least mortified, which is just as well because Yamapi has enough mortification for the both of them.
When she leans forward and her breasts nearly press against him, Yamapi realises that the problem isn't that he can't stop thinking about fucking her. It isn't that he's horny and having a naked woman on top of him isn't helping. It's that when she leans forward and her hair fans out and her legs press tightly against his own – it's that he's not thinking of a woman at all. He's thinking about fluffy hair and fast, fluid hips, and big, dark eyes, but none of those belong to a woman.
“It's okay,” she says, in broken English. “I've done this before. It's a normal reaction, yes? Bits and pieces working fine.”
Yamapi isn't sure how to respond to that. So he just smiles, through gritted teeth, and tries to push the thought of Jin out of his head.
When the shoot is over, Yamapi decides to go for a drink on his own, to process it all. He checks his messages in the bar, and there's one from Jin.
Can't wait to see the pics. Did you use that night you were in my closet as inspiration?
Jin.
I think we need to talk. But – how did you know? Was it the juice?
Yamapi.
No, Jin replies. I saw you through the crack in the door. The light through the window. I knew you were there, when I lay down on the bed. You're right. We need to talk.
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