Reaching Limits

For a story to be complete, you're going to need three things: purpose, love and death.
 

Why?
 

Because we need a driving force to propel us through the quick turns and the sudden drops. And we need something to catch us when we fall from the dizziness and the chest pangs. But ultimately, whether it’s at the beginning, the middle, or the end; life is always a circle. Life, has always been something that’s a little give and a little take. So don’t be so surprised when death rolls around. Don’t even be afraid of the idea. At least death, we know is coming.

Purpose and love, however, aren’t so finite. Purpose and love . . . we might never find.

 

But Taemin thinks he has found them. Or at least, he’s seen a glimpse of what they look like and where they might be. You could say it’s like tracing breadcrumbs through the woods. One path leads you home and the other leads to a candy coated house with a very hungry witch inside.


. . . Well, that analogy could work, but it would be far too easy. For the path isn't so black and white. The path isn't so evenly paved. And the path doesn't always have a good ending or a bad one. Because after all, it was never about getting to Oz, right? It was the how, the who and the what that brought them there in the first place. And for Taemin, he always thought that the journey was much longer. That the journey took some time.

“Didn't it seem like they were walking along that yellow brick road for days and days?” He asks one late school night amidst the books and pencils strewn across Kibum’s living room table.

Minho, who’s sitting across from Taemin and busy uncrossing his long legs to relieve the strain of hours too long in one position, looks up at the other with a frown. “Huh?”

Key huffs from the couch, momentarily distracted from budgeting this month’s expenses vs. the club’s profits and throws a pen at Taemin’s red head. “Yah! You’re supposed to be studying! What are you rambling on about you scatter brain!?”

But Taemin’s not swayed. His eyes still stare in a dazed fashion and his eyebrows furrow in a complex gesture of lines and wrinkles, most unbecoming on his beautiful face. “It was a couple days, though, right? For Dorothy and the others to get to Oz?” He asks now to both Minho and Key with a confused pout.

Minho frowns, his large eyes looking distant as he actually contemplates the question. Simply because Taemin has a way of phrasing or asking things to seem as if they are the most important thing in the world. As if they hold real relevance to his overall well-being.

But Key’s been around Taemin long enough to be used this. “No, no no.” He says matter-of-factly. “It was one day. Just one day!”  

Minho’s eyes squint a little as he bites the end of his pencil. Then he takes in a sudden intake of breath. “But . . . it was dark when they saw lions, tigers and bears.”

 

Taemin’s eyes brighten up as if the light has suddenly returned to them and he glances at Key triumphantly, thankful for a third opinion. “Ah! Right! And when they got to Oz it was daytime which means it was at least two days!”

 

Key rolls his eyes and moves the laptop off his lap. He gathers his papers and stands to retrieve the pen he threw. “You’re both wrong. It was only dark because they went into the forest! The day didn’t change.”

“But didn’t they fall asleep?” Minho asks, still unconvinced.

“Ah! They did. They did fall asleep. From the Poppies!” Taemin continues his whole body jerking forward and a single finger pointing in to the air.

Key stares back and forth between Minho and Taemin in relative amusement and irritation. “Great. You miss a week of school to go gallivanting off with your boyfriend and now you’re infecting everyone with your craziness.”

Taemin’s smile fades as he looks down at the mess of books on the table in front of him. Key’s words echo into the quiet room and inside Taemin’s mind. Truth is. That day in the stairwell with Jongin . . . under dim lights and between stifled cries, two boys were pushing their limits.

 Taemin remembers the way Jongin’s fingers felt as they slid against the soft skin just below his belly button. . .

The barest and gentlest touch of skin on skin started slow and sensual, but then grew in pace and fervor when Jongin’s nails began to leave traces of their presence. It sent shivers through Taemin’s body making his eyes close and his mouth hang open against Jongin’s wet lips. And he tried in vain to bite those big and lush lips of Jongin’s, if only to keep himself from sighing in pleasure or out in ecstasy. But then Jongin’s breath suddenly became erratic and his long fingers dove underneath the waist band of Taemin’s boxer-briefs and towards the ache and throb that lay deeply buried in Taemin’s skinnies.

 And Taemin couldn’t hold it in much longer. His hands slightly shook as they gripped the other boy’s shoulders, holding on to him for support and holding him close as Jongin moved to fully cup Taemin’s hard in the palm of his large hand.

Taemin mewled in pleasure, his brows creasing and his hands into Jongin’s white shirt as he moved against the hot and sweaty hand inside his pants. Moving against it with equal fervor and abandonment, his hips bucking forward and his legs shifting wider open. As if to say ‘Yes, take me. Take all of me.’

And take, he did. Jongin took it all. His hand became wet almost instantly, the moment he took the plunge into Taemin’s underwear. And he groaned low in the back of his throat as his lips and tongue moved to trail open mouth kisses down Taemin’s neck. Sloppily and hungrily. Intending to bite the flesh. To mark it. To claim it. To release the accumulated tension he could feel all over his body that left him covered in a sticky wetness. Left him covered in a feverish sweat.

But he'd do anything for more of what Taemin could give him.

Jongin panted roughly against pale skin as his fingers rubbed pre- all over Taemin’s shaft. Up and down and up and down they went. Back and forth, squeezing and rubbing and and sighing. One could almost get lost in this rhythm. But Jongin always had to backtrack towards Taemin’s leaking tip. He always had to slide his hand down and re-wet or tease the most sensitive part.

Because you always have to go back to the start. Back to the beginning. Where it’s the most sensitive. The most intense. Maybe even the most painful. And between the things they can’t, won’t and don’t say, their bodies betray them. Their bodies move against one another, giving and taking, but leaving nothing left unsaid. Because pleasure is easy. Pleasure is uncomplicated. And when everything else is pushed past comfortable limits, like pain, for instance. Then the pleasure needs to be greater. The risk needs to be higher. And the stakes need to be graver.

And at this point, Taemin doesn’t quite see it yet. He’s still so caught up in the manufactured i