Description: In which Taemin battles with his frustrations as a man. No one sees him as such. No one, except for Jonghyun.

Tags: Jongtae, insecurities, angst,

The restroom was empty, save for one closed stall and the sound of flatulating emerging from within. Two men occupying individual urinals side-eyed Taemin as he waltzed up to the next one available. Even when he ped his jeans, he could still feel their calculating glances washing over his body. It was clear to him that the sound of his grungy voice when he cleared his throat purposely didn’t diverge the attention from his delicate facial features, long hair extensions and slender build.

This was Taemin’s struggle during Shinee’s Lucifer era, as it had been his entire life. Not the choreography. Not the group’s surge in popularity. Not the rare specs of creepy sasaeng fan letters. His gender identity, which came to question to everyone except the members and people who truly knew him.

it. Nature calls. Who were they to deny him the relief to his bladder? So, just like that, even as the idiots peeped pass the divider to confirm his gender: he pulled out his and proceeded to take care of his business.

Because no matter how pretty he was, and how stunned those men were: he was, indeed, a man.

…

His Danger era was no different. Emerging as a solo artist and exuding charismatic charms of his very own on stage did not help him to escape the box he was shoved into off stage. He was “precious” and “cute” for several reasons. Losing track of his phone a second after putting it down at his side. Wandering off into oblivion whenever any of his four trusted hyungs didn’t directly lead him from point A to point B. Apparently, there was also something about the way he ate, which he simply couldn’t fathom. All these things were ridiculous. Who doesn’t lose things every now and then? Sometimes maps can be confusing. And who isn’t enthusiastic about food?!

Now the fans were starting to see it; the innermost part of him screaming to get out. Hashtag Lee TaeMAN. A boy who at any given moment could disappear and be replaced with a man who dripped with charisma and pure . His hands raking through thick silky hair. The fine lines that carved his newly formed abs and v-cut at his waistline. The glisten of sweat off his skin as he danced breathlessly beneath scorching spotlights…

But after breaking his feminine shell, that’s still not who he wanted to be. Before he knew it: Press It happened. Press Your Number happened. Sayonara Hitori happened. That image escaped him. The man the fans fell for is who they were meant to be enticed by. It was basic marketing and entertainment. A stage persona.

But the man he wanted his peers to acknowledge was still trapped deep within him. He was never doubted as an artist, and certainly not as a dancer, but no matter what he did he still had to clear his throat walking into the men’s room. They still called him Taeminnie. He was a highly respected sunbae, yet still regarded as that pretty introvert with the Brady bowl cut from 8 years ago.

Nothing changed. No one’s perceptions changed. No one; except for Jonghyun.

…

Taemin’s head swam with those thoughts. It was triggered after their last meeting with some Japanese advertisers. Taemin had received a love call practically begging him to be the new face of their new shampoo. Smooth, fragrant and good for the scalp. A soothing wash that would make you “bloom like a rose.” Taemin didn’t hesitate to deny them, making his wish to verge very far from that image clear. The whole thing was nothing but a migraine, and he was relieved that due to Shinee and his own solo success that he was in a position to actually reject them.

The sashimi he ate together with the group did not relieve the stress. The sea of glittering lights of the major metropolis from Tokyo Tower didn’t sooth his bruised ego. And even now, the warmth of Jonghyun’s breath heating his neck was doing little to distract him.

Yes, Jonghyun was the only one who acknowledged and embraced that trapped part of his soul. Taemin was a puzzle, that only the singer-songwriter could unravel. Then again, this was the same man who could sing about lunar s while looking like a pink ball of fluff. That duality was what connected them, but also drove him crazy. How could Jonghyun do it, yet he could not?

Jonghyun pulled his face out of the crook of Taemin’s neck and glanced up at him. Taemin glanced back regretfully, fearing that he might have hurt his feelings. Jonghyun smiled and cupped his face, smoothing his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Tae-baby,” he said sweetly.  “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that,” Taemin reassured him. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”

Jonghyun’s hands slipped off his face and clasped his hands. He brought them up to his lips and kissed the knuckles gently.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

The soft yellow light of the hotel room fell upon them, making Jonghyun look twice as angelic as he already was. He never demanded answers from Taemin, never criticized what spurred on his moods. He simply waited and listened. But Taemin had spent his entire life having these talks, and even with Jonghyun, got tired of the sound of his own voice complaining.

Taemin was a man. A creature of action. Right now, all he wanted to do was get away from those toxic thoughts and bury himself so deep into Jonghyun that it would be impossible for him to feel like a separate person.   

“Jonghyunnie,” he said softly.

“Ne, Taemin-ah?”

Taemin slipped a hand to the back of his neck and rested the other on his hip. The look in his eyes was smoldering, so intense that it made Jonghyun’s breath hitch.

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think. I just…”

Jonghyun followed Taemin’s lead, stepping back as he stepped forward until his back hit the wall. Taemin rested his forehead against Jonghyun’s and closed the gap between them, placing one hand just above his head while the other gripped his hip. Jonghyun flushed and clung to Taemin’s shirt, shuddering when Taemin used his thigh to push up between his legs, grinding against the bulge forming in his impossibly tight jeans. Taemin inched even closer, his hot shaky breath grazing Jonghyun’s neck until his mouth clamped down on it to a hickey into the skin, evoking a desperate keen from Jonghyun.

A coolness settled over the sensitive spot after he pulled away, only for more heat to spread throughout Jonghyun’s body when Taemin lapped at his earlobe and husked;

“I just need to be inside you.”

…

A/N: This time, I’m just mad at myself lol