CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“You know…” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice jolts Jongin out of his daze. “…I’m not going to run away.” 

Jongin swallows the lump in his throat as he rises from his chair none too gracefully, muscles having gone slightly numb from not moving for such a long while. Kyungsoo doesn’t spare him a glance as he continues chopping up vegetables, but Jongin doesn’t need to see his face to know that his hyung was biting back a smile from the amused lilt that he detects in his voice. 

It was an open secret that cooking… wasn’t one of Jongin’s strengths. He was a fast learner and he had always been able to excel in the things he put his mind to, but unfortunately, the arena of culinary arts was somewhat elusive for this otherwise exceptionally talented young man. Since they had started seeing each other again, Kyungsoo hadn't had the pleasure of tasting anything that Jongin had burnt or horrendously seasoned, but it doesn’t stop him from shooing him out of the kitchen anyway. 

Kyungsoo worked efficiently and effortlessly by himself, manoeuvring around Jongin’s kitchen with the kind of finesse that you would never expect from someone who had never step foot into his condo prior. He only stopped occasionally to ask Jongin where certain things were located, but aside from that he really didn’t  need Jongin to stick around at all. Nevertheless, he had insisted, feeling bad that enough that Kyungsoo was cooking dinner for the both of them when this wasn’t even his home. (Not that Jongin had any say, really, Kyungsoo wasn’t one to change his mind from the moment he had made a decision and he was hell bent on cooking for Jongin tonight.) 

Though he could have probably used the time better, he spends it staring at Kyungsoo none too subtly… if the number of times he gets caught is any indication to go by. 

Jongin makes a non-committal grunt in response as he shuffles to fridge to grab a bottle of banana milk. He needed to distract himself, somehow, he thought as he made his way back to his seat on the high stool by his kitchen island. If not, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to fend off his urge to take Kyungsoo into his arms. 

He looks over at his hyung. His hyung, he thinks to himself with a little sigh. 

Upon coming back from their meeting with Luhan at XOXO (and Soojung…), Kyungsoo had decided to take a shower. This meant that his hair was still a little damp, and it sounds absurd but it made Jongin want to bury his nose into Kyungsoo’s nape because he knew that if he leaned in now, before his hair dried, he would be able to get a whiff of his lavender mint shampoo on him. Kyungsoo was dressed comfortably in one of Jongin’s old faded t-shirts and a pair of his grey sweatpants, and Jongin also loved how his clothes looked on him. Kyungsoo had been working out recently, to cope from the stress from his job lately, and this resulted in him becoming slightly bulkier. However, he was still much narrower than Jongin and practically swimming in his clothes. Regardless, Jongin thought that he never looked better.  

Jongin almost wants to laugh at these thoughts because he had never imagined that he even had it in him to be that territorial. He loved the idea of Kyungsoo smelling like him, wearing his clothes and being in his space. He felt like some kind of animal with some instinctive need to mark what was his. But then… was Kyungsoo really his? 

He looks at the way Kyungsoo bites his bottom lip in concentration as he dumps a jar of tomato sauce into the pan over the onions and garlic and peppers he had just sautéed, the way the toes on his bare feet curl absent-mindedly over the linoleum tile, the way Kyungsoo just… just looks so at ease, like he was always meant to be in this kitchen, in his home, in Jongin’s life. This brings a whole fresh feeling of adoration from the younger and he doesn’t fight the urge this time, attaching himself to Kyungsoo’s back and clinging to him with his arms wrapped tight around his waist. 

“Sometimes,” Jongin’s voice comes out sounding more broken than intended. “It feels like you are.”

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo hums in question.

“Like you’re… going to run away.” His voice trails off in a whisper, as if it wounds him to say it out loud. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t react immediately, and Jongin would have thought that the elder hadn’t heard him if not for the way he felt Kyungsoo suddenly go rigid in his arms.

However, Kyungsoo keeps his attention transfixed on his damned pan of tomato sauce, focusing on stirring it more than Jongin believed was necessary. Not a word comes out of Kyungsoo’s mouth, as if he was choosing to ignore what Jongin had just said. Something inside of him starts to ache. He wanted so badly to be comforted. For Kyungsoo to turn around and say no, that he had been mistaken, that he wasn’t going to run away and that he wanted to stay. Here. With Jongin. Always. 

He nuzzles his way along the shell of Kyungsoo’s ear, in hopes of getting any kind of response, growing increasingly despondent at his reticence until Kyungsoo finally shuts the stove off and turns in his embrace to face him. Jongin can’t help the way his hands curl into the back of Kyungsoo’s shirt with nervousness because Kyungsoo still doesn’t say anything. Not a word comes out of his mouth even as his hands reach up to link around Jongin’s neck, leaning in to bump their noses together. 

Jongin allows his eyes to flutter shut and he doesn’t know how many seconds, minutes maybe, that pass between them. He’s already drunk on the comfort he feels just being physically close to Kyungsoo, and adequately distracted by the warmth that spreads from his abdomen and settles (uncomfortably) between his legs, that he manages to convince himself that this is enough. He tells himself that he’s happy to have Kyungsoo at all, he’s fine with their grabbing and groping never going anywhere. 

Kyungsoo lifts his hand to cradle Jongin’s jaw gently, tugging him down and fusing their mouths together. His fingers thread into Jongin’s hair, making the younger’s breath hitch in his throat. Jongin instinctively finds himself tilting forward, trying to press himself closer to him. 

He realises that Kyungsoo had been aware of his distress the whole time, and that this was his way of trying to comfort him, by giving Jongin the intimacy he knew Jongin needed to put himself at ease. But at the same time, Kyungsoo was being careful—he was always so careful, too careful—and it was making Jongin impatient. He could feel Kyungsoo resisting the urge to slide his tongue into his mouth and he hated it. He wanted more (it could never be less). 

Taking matters into his own hands, Jongin captures Kyungsoo’s bottom lip between his and it in earnest, delighting in the feeling of Kyungsoo’s pulse beating rapidly against his palm as he ran his hands up to his throat, pulling him even closer. Soon enough, he felt Kyungsoo nipping at his mouth and his lips easily parted with a mewl of pleasure as Kyungsoo was finally kissing him the way he wanted to be kissed. Jongin felt himself swaying beneath him as Kyungsoo as he made the kiss somehow deeper, leaving him reeling and spinning, grateful for the bruising grip that Kyungsoo now had on his hip. It was holding him in place, a counterpoint. Without it counterbalancing the pleasure, he was sure he would lose control. 

However, all too soon, Kyungsoo abandons his mouth. Smiling at his soft groan of protest, he leans in to peck Jongin’s cheek to placate him before pulling away altogether. 

“Set the table for me?” Kyungsoo asks, still smiling, and Jongin tries but fails to suppress the whine that escapes from his throat because his skin was still burning from where Kyungsoo had pressed into him. 

* * * 

Jongin curses his innate desire to please Kyungsoo along with all his other troubling Kyungsoo related feelings. After Kyungsoo’s instruction, he had immediately scrambled to help, wanting nothing more than to make Kyungsoo happy as he pulled utensils out from his cabinet. Jongin hadn’t gotten any of the answers he wanted, and it was honestly making him so uneasy. Yet, at the same time, making Kyungsoo uneasy was the last thing he wanted to do. It was a terrible habit he had developed since they were teenagers, Jongin always prioritising Kyungsoo’s wellbeing over his own. 

Nevertheless, dinner passes without incident.

Kyungsoo whips them up some pasta and tosses it in tomato sauce along with whatever else he could find in Jongin’s fridge (including leftover kimchi). It’s simple, but nothing short of delicious and Jongin hums in contentment as he eats. It’s been a long time time since he’s had home cooked food—considering that he lived alone and has to travel so often—so he tells Kyungsoo this as he shovels the tagliatelle into his mouth. Kyungsoo smiles as he watches him practically inhale two servings, catching himself off guard when an errant thought about how nice it would be if he could cook for Jongin every day crosses his mind. 

Throughout the meal, Jongin has his legs tangled with Kyungsoo’s under the table, as if to hold him in place. The only time Jongin “releases” Kyungsoo is when he stands up to get a second helping of pasta for him. But shortly after Kyungsoo sits back down, Jongin’s foot slides back next to his again, ankle hooking back around his once more. His gestures are subtle, but its meaning isn’t lost on Kyungsoo. Jongin puts up a good front, but Kyungsoo knows that there is more going on in his mind that he lets on. (Kyungsoo isn’t wrong.) 

They clear the table together, but Jongin finds himself being chased out of the kitchen a second time when he attempts to help with the dishes. “Leave it to me, you need your rest,” Kyungsoo says with finality as he rolls up his sleeves. Jongin had been working till dawn on some edits for an advertorial and of course Kyungsoo had been concerned about Jongin’s lack of sleep for the past couple of days. Jongin doesn’t put up a fight. After all, Kyungsoo wasn’t very pliant when it came to taking care of people. 

Murmuring a soft “thank you” and pressing a gentle kiss to Kyungsoo’s forehead, he makes his way to the living room and sprawls himself out on his black leather sofa. The reason why he hadn’t insisted on staying with Kyungsoo in the kitchen this time was because, at some point during dinner, he had started to feel inexorably achey. There was a dull throbbing in his chest and it seemed to intensify the longer he spent looking at Kyungsoo. He needed to get a grip. 

Jongin’s head (and heart?) was in a mess and he knew this from the way he was beginning to contradict himself. 

On one hand, he knew he could be very successful if he tried hard enough to really believe that he could settle for being Kyungsoo’s whatever as long as they were together at all.

However, at the same time, Jongin knew that somewhere along the line he had become way too greedy when it came to Kyungsoo. He didn’t know when it started, and he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, but at some point… he had started to want more. He wanted to be more. Jongin then thought back to how Kyungsoo had introduced himself as his “friend” to Krystal earlier that day and suddenly felt very hollow. 

“Jongin-ah,” Kyungsoo calls, and Jongin can’t answer because he’s suddenly so… scared. 

Driven by a gripping and unexplainable need to be near Kyungsoo, he makes his way into the kitchen himself, heart hammering in his chest. Jongin’s eyes draw immediately to the band of skin that appears between his t-shirt and his low-hanging sweat pants. Kyungsoo is on his tiptoes, standing in front of an open cabinet trying to return a plate to where he had originally found it. 

“Ah, there you are.” Kyungsoo turns around with a sheepish smile on his face, setting the plate back down on the counter top. “You help me get this down earlier on. I can’t quite reach the shelf on my own, would you mind helping me put it back—”

Jongin doesn’t let him finish. In two long strides, he’s in front of Kyungsoo, trapping him against the counter and tilting his head up to crash their lips together in a bruising kiss. There is urgency in the way Jongin moves against Kyungsoo, grinding so hard against him that Kyungsoo has raise his arms to prop against the countertop behind him just so he doesn’t get bent too far backwards. As Jongin into his mouth with fervor, he starts emitting moans that steadily become huskier and more desperate. Kyungsoo’s body reacts to sounds that Jongin makes almost instantly and it only takes a few seconds before Kyungsoo himself is whimpering and gasping beneath him, a bulge already visible despite how loose-fitting his pants are.

Though desire surges through his system like a potent drug threatening to cloud his senses, Kyungsoo manages to muster up enough willpower to break the kiss. Jongin backs away slightly—but only to catch his breath—and doesn’t relinquish the firm grip he has on the elder’s hips. Kyungsoo allows himself a moment to admire the way that Jongin looks right now, so flushed and eager, lips slick with Kyungsoo’s saliva. 

“J-Jongin,” Kyungsoo chokes out, in long breaths as he tries to push Jongin away weakly with his hands on his chest. “What are you doing?” 

Letting out a frustrated grunt at Kyungsoo’s refusal to grant him access to his mouth, Jongin settles for burrowing his face on the crook of his neck, and nibbling insistently on the sensitive patch of skin whilest his hand reaches down to palm Kyungsoo’s through his sweats. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He squeezes just enough to send liquid heat shooting straight to Kyungsoo’s groin and he finds himself bucking into Jongin’s touch, much to the younger’s delight. 

As Kyungsoo’s knees go weak from Jongin’s delft , his arms wrap around Jongin’s shoulders and his face presses into Jongin’s chest just to anchor himself. Quick to take full advantage of Kyungsoo’s momentary distraction, Jongin swiftly hoists Kyungoo up in one fluid motion and smiles when Kyungsoo’s legs instinctively wind themselves around his waist. 

Kyungsoo’s head is spinning so much at this point that he doesn’t even care that Jongin is moving them, carrying him into what he recognised as Jongin’s bedroom. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t try to stop Jongin again when they hit the mattress of the bed and resume kissing, choosing to pretend that he doesn’t know how this is going to end. 

In-between impassioned kisses, their clothes disappear and soon enough Jongin is and straddling Kyungsoo, kissing his collarbones and nipping at his shoulders. On a whim, he decides to reach over to flick the switch of his bedside lamp and it instantly casts the room in a dim but warm and gentle light. He has to suppress a deep sigh of longing when he gazes back down at the love of his life because Kyungsoo looks like he’s glowing. Each strand of hair and every inch of skin seemed to be absorbing the light instead of reflecting it back, and he looked so damned beautiful that Jongin can’t think about anything right now except how much he wants him with every fibre of his being—there will be never be anything or anyone he could ever want as much. 

Kyungsoo’s lips are puffy and slick with spit, and Jongin can’t help but lean down to steal another kiss from him before whispering, “I’m going to make love to you now.” He raises his head back up and pushes Kyungsoo’s bangs away from his forehead, locking his eyes with his. “Is that okay?” Jongin is practically trembling with want, but he makes sure to ask anyway. As greedy as he had become, Jongin loves him so much that he would never take more than Kyungsoo was willing to give.

Thankfully, Kyungsoo immediately nods in response, even craning his head up to press his mouth against Jongin’s, and he almost sobs from relief. (If Kyungsoo had decided to push him away, Jongin knew he might have probably have lost his mind.) Jongin doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss. Their hot lips brush against each ot