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It starts with hot breath panting against the flesh of his neck. The sensitive skin feels like its on fire as it tingles straight down to his hardening . 

Taemin squeezes his eyes shut, his teeth sinking into the flesh of his bottom lip.

And then hot breath is replaced by an even hotter and deliciously wet tongue, as open mouthed kisses are languidly slathered from behind his ear, down his neck and towards his protruding collarbones.

Taemin tries to focus on those thick lips , and his teeth grazing, and that tongue rubbing as large hands roam over his body. Those deft fingers rubbing circles around a hardened .

Taemin arches against the sheets, his breath hitching as he moans softly.

But he needed some friction. He wanted the hand that was abusing his to move down, to explore his body, to invade it. To make him melt into the bed that he was lying on. 

And then it did.

The hand encircled his leaking and Taemin about lost it from the pleasure.

He flipped himself over, mashing his face into his pillow to drown out his moans. The hand all the while and rubbing his leaking wetness all over his throbbing shaft, even dipping the tip of a finger into the slit, which caused Taemin to shudder and drool into his pillow.

Flushed cheeks, and hair matted with sweat, Taemin imagined Jongin's tanned, toned chest pressing against his back as Jongin pumped his roughly.

"Ahh! . . . Nnnmf." Taemin moaned, biting his lips from the white hot heat, just at the brink of exploding over the cliff.

He couldn't take it anymore. He bucked his hips into his hand, the head of his rubbing against the rough sheets. And in two seconds, he was biting down hard and covering his mouth as he shuddered violently, all over his bed. His body shook for a few more seconds as he braced himself against the frame for support. He wiped his mouth and looked down at the mess he had made and sighed. He lifted himself slightly and rolled the dirtied sheets into a ball and threw them under his bed, mentally reminding himself to wash it before his mother found it the next day. 

He pulled his pajama bottoms back up and rolled onto his back.

Taemin stared at the ceiling, chest heaving and heart racing. He flopped a lazy hand on top of his ribs in a futile attempt to calm himself down as his head lulled to the side. He stared wearily at the clock on his bedside table. 

2:30 AM

He sighed. He figured since he would never have with Jongin in real life, he might as well fantasize about it. And usually a little 'me time' would make him sleepy, but this time, it only served to further his anxiousness. He couldn't sleep but he was tired. Strange how that happens.

He pouted as an idea came to mind. Probably not a good idea, but he still found himself turning onto his stomach and leaning his head over the side of the bed. He peeked under it, past the rolled up sheets and retrieved a tiny metal card box laying on the floor. He then slipped himself off the bed entirely and crawled towards the window on the other side of his room, box in hand. 

He unlocked the window and eased it open slowly, making sure to not make too much noise. The night air flowed in making the damp hairs against his neck feel colder than they should. He his lips in anticipation as he flipped open the case and stared at what was inside. He sneaked a quick and apprehensive glance at his bedroom door before picking up a single, thin cigarette from the box and slipping it in between his lips. He grabbed an old pack of matches sitting on the sill and with his hands shaking slightly, he lit the end of the cigarette in his mouth.

Taemin squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled tentatively, letting the toxic air infiltrate his lungs. 

It felt weird, unhealthy at best, but there's something calming about the burn, about the aggressive way he has to hold his breath and keep the smoke inside his body that makes him feel . . . strong.

Until a faint knock and the knob on his bedroom door started to turn.

Taemin took a sharp inhale, which is technically a double inhale, and it caused him to cough violently, tears coming to his eyes. 

"Taem-!" Taesun starts but quickly comes into his little brother's room and shuts the door quietly. He walks across the room and snatches the cigarette from the younger's hand. 

"What the hell is this?!" He whispers harshly before tossing the offending object out the open window.

Taemin can barely get his breath not only cause of the awkwardly swallowed smoke but also because his freaking older brother decided to check in on him, and oddly enough Taemin wishes the elder could have been five minutes earlier. They would have had a good laugh about it, and chatted until they fell asleep, but now. "It's. . ." 

"Where did you get that?"

Taemin rests his palms against the floor, his breathing becoming easier now, but he doesn't look up.  "I found it?" Not totally a lie, but he can tell Taesun already knows.

Taesun lifts Taemin's chin. "That better not have been one of dad's," he says, eyes deadly serious.

Taemin swallows and looks away. He doesn't need the warning. He knows what happens when someone takes dad's things.

"," Taesun curses under his breath. "How many did you take?"

Taemin takes a deep breath as his arm starts to itch. He knows he's in trouble, but he honestly doesn't know how many he took. He can't even remember why he took them in the first place. So he doesn't answer because there's nothing he can say. He can't make excuses for something he doesn't understand. And to be honest, all he wanted to do was get some sleep.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his eyes finally coming up to meet Taesun's. Because he is sorry. He would feel absolutely horrible if someone else was blamed for his stupidity. Taemin cringes as he scratches his arm roughly. "It's gonna be bad isn't it?"

Taesun shakes his head as he stares at Taemin's expression. The younger's not afraid anymore. He's worse now, he's just simply waiting for the ball to drop. He just accepts it. Taesun crouches down on the floor and hugs the younger. "It's fine, we don't even know when he'll come back. We'll replace them before he finds out, ok?" He whispers into Taemin's ear, "We're in this together, remember?"

Taemin shakes his head and hugs the elder back. "I'm sorry," he whispers again. But this apology is for so much more than a few stolen cigarettes. "I'm so sorry, Taesun, for . . . the family."

The elder pushes the younger away and shakes him roughly. "Don't Taemin. I mean it."       

And Taemin knows he's said too much, but sometimes it just feels like it's not enough. He nods again, pressing his lips together to forcibly hold himself back. And Taesun hugs him again, like he always does.        

But how many times have they sat here in this very room, together, hugging, crying, comforting? Is it weird that it's become so normal? Is it weird that he finds a strange sense of peace in the warm embrace even though he knows the reasoning behind it. Taemin sighs, his mind and his body finally catching up to each other. He lets his head rest on