Archive of Our Own

"I'm sorry, what?" Zen blinked uncomprehendingly at the hotel clerk.

"There's been a mistake." She had the good grace to look sheepish. "Your room was double-booked, sir, and the other guest checked in first - we're completely booked up, sir, I'm so so sorry - "

Zen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn't this poor woman's fault. If anything it was the production company, trying to be cheap and book a reduced-cost room he wasn't certain to get. So instead of yelling (even though he really, really wanted to yell), he put on his most winning smile.

"Not at all, my dear lady. Please, could you direct me to another hotel in the area?" He'd have to pay for it out of his own pocket, at least tonight, and he'd bring it up to the PD in the morning.

"Zen."

The sound of his name from behind him startled him, and he turned around before he fully registered whose voice it was. Jumin Han, of all people, was standing behind him, having just descended the stairs.

"You," was all Zen could get out. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a week of meetings in this area," Jumin said. "I said so in the messenger."

Zen did vaguely recall something about that; he'd been in such a rush to get packed that he'd skimmed the chat - which he did often when he saw Jumin's avatar, if he was being honest.

"What are you doing here?"

"Rehearsals," Zen replied. "I said that in the messenger."

"Hmm," Jumin replied. "I suppose we missed each other's plans in the midst of our own travel preparations."

"Yeah, well, I'll be out of your hair in a minute," Zen said, waving a hand. "Hotel's full. I gotta find somewhere else to stay."

"Stay in my room."

Zen was half-turned back to the desk, and froze in place at Jumin's words.

"What the hell did you just say?"

Jumin gestured at the elevator he'd just emerged from. "The room is large, it can easily fit both of us, and we are at least acquainted enough to share a space for a couple of days, I think. There's no reason for you to go out of your way to secure a second hotel room - at your own expense, I assume - "

"I can afford it," Zen said flatly. Barely, was his mental addition, but Jumin didn't need to hear that.

"I wasn't suggesting otherwise." Jumin raised an (insufferable) eyebrow. "Merely that it would be...neater."

Zen narrowed his eyes at Jumin. There didn't seem to be any trace of mockery on his face (there wouldn't be, though, that would imply a sense of humor). It seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be a genuine offer. And really, if Jumin was in meetings all day and he was at rehearsals all day, they'd really only be in the room to sleep, and he figured he could handle a sleeping, silent Jumin.

Plus, free room. Likely much nicer than whatever the agency had tried to get.

"One thing," he asked.

"Hm?"

"Is the furball up there?"

"Elizabeth the 3rd is with Assistant Kang."

"Poor Jaehee." Zen hauled his back further up on his shoulder. "Alright, CEO-in-line. Lead the way."

Zen checked his phone while he was waiting for Jumin to open the door, panicking when he saw the time. "Shit, I'm gonna be so late!" As a result, he flung his bag somewhere in the direction of the floor, barely registering the room itself, and bolted back down the stairs, choosing not to wait for the elevator.

It was well after dark when he made it back to the room, slightly more than buzzed from the drinks he and a few cast members had gone for when rehearsals had wrapped for the day. He stood in front of the door, staring blankly at it as he realized he'd bolted before Jumin had given him a key. He pounded on the door, and when he didn't get a response he did it again, calling to Jumin through the door.

"CEO Robot! Let me in!"

It was a couple of rounds of that before the door opened to reveal Jumin, hair still wet and a slight scowl on his face.

"I was in the shower. You're very loud."

"You didn't give me a key."

"You ran away," Jumin countered, and Zen grumbled something noncommittal as he made his way in. Now that he could actually take in the room, it was quite nice, with its own kitchenette and what appeared to be a substantial bathroom.

And, off to the side, a single wide bed.

"Dude," Zen said, gesturing at the space. "Where's the other bed?"

"What other bed?"

"The other bed. My bed."

"There's only one bed," Jumin said, moving towards it now. "Why would I book a room for myself with two beds?"

Zen closed his eyes. There was always a catch. He should have thought about it, honestly, but he was broke and in a rush and it was easier to be annoyed at Jumin, especially when he was drunk.

"Is there at least a sofa?"

"Yes, there against the wall."

Zen looked; it was a narrow sort of love-seat, far too small for anyone to sleep on comfortably. He groaned, moving towards where his bag was still collapsed on his side on the floor.

"It's free," he muttered, "And you get what you pay for."

With his legs swung over the arm of the not-quite-a-sofa, his head pillowed uncomfortably on a wadded-up jacket, Zen glared at Jumin. Jumin who was propped up on twice as many pillows as was reasonable for anyone, with a glass of wine and a book.

"Oi," he called over. "Turn that light off, I need sleep."

"I cannot read with the light off."

"And I can't sleep with the light on!"

"I'll turn it off when I'm done."

Zen tried to determine the trajectory he would need to kill Jumin from here with a sofa cushion.

Giving up sleep as a lost cause for now, Zen rolled off the sofa and headed for the kitchenette, retrieving a beer from the mini-fridge.

"I thought alcohol would ruin your skin if you drank it at night," Jumin said, not looking up from his book.

"It's all that's keeping me from ruining your face," Zen shot back, taking a long pull of the beer. He really shouldn't be drinking, especially when he was still marginally buzzed from earlier, and especially not when he was as annoyed as he was. But it was there, and the alcohol burn was satisfying to his mood.

"That's a fine thing to say to someone allowing you to stay in their hotel room free of charge." Jumin was done with his wine, apparently, and got up from the bed to place his glass on the counter.

"On a sofa that would barely fit a baby," Zen shot back. "Seriously, you could have at least warned me there was only one bed."

"I assumed it was common sense." Jumin's insufferable eyebrow was back, and Zen gritted his teeth.

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were."

"You said I didn't have common sense."

"You are drunk."

"You're an ass."

Jumin was scowling now, and there was a definite edge of anger to his voice when he spoke next. "Perhaps I should be more careful who I extend my kindness to, if I am repaid with verbal abuse and low-brow insults."

"You - " Zen was moving before he could think about it, and he pinned Jumin against the far wall. "You want abuse, you rich jerk?" His hands were pinning Jumin's shoulders, and the other man was perfectly still, his gaze locked with Zen's and his arms limp at his sides. Like he thought if he moved Zen would punch him. Zen was seriously considering it. "Well?! Is this what you expected?"

"I assumed you would lose your self-control eventually, yes." There was something odd in Jumin's voice, but Zen barely registered it through his anger.

He moved into Jumin's face, hands fisting in his shirt collar, prepared to tell him exactly what he thought of him, free room or no free room. But his train of thought sputtered and died entirely when his thigh brushed against the front of Jumin's pants, a good inch farther forward than they should have been. He didn't register it at first, just a sense of firmness where there should have been give, and then the heat soaked through Jumin's pajamas and his thin night pants, and he realized exactly what he was pressed against, and why Jumin had just shivered like that.

Zen jumped back like Jumin had suddenly caught fire.

"What the fuck." It was the only thing that made it from his brain to his mouth intact. "You - are you - did you really - "

"Speaking of self-control," Jumin muttered, turning away from Zen. Zen could see, now that shock had cut through the alcohol fog, the flush on Jumin's cheeks, and the dark way his eyes glittered, even now, and even from across the room.

"What the fuck," he repeated.

"I am as uncomfortable as you are," Jumin snapped. He was still standing mostly with his back to Zen.

"I doubt that," Zen shot back. "Sincerely. What the fuck."

"Can you please think of something else to say?"

"Can you please not - not that when I try to punch your lights out?" Zen gestured vaguely towards Jumin. "Is that why you offered - nope, nevermind. Don't answer that. I'm sleeping in the bathtub. Goodnight."

"You don't have to - " Jumin started to say, but Zen waved both hands over his head and retreated into the bathroom.

Jumin was gone when Zen woke the next morning, which was just as well. He didn't want Jumin to see him hobbling around after a night spend curled up on unforgiving laminate, and he didn't want to see Jumin period. In the light of day, he did regret how he'd acted the night before. He should never have put his hands on Jumin. It was stupid and childish. That had been half of what had kept him awake, besides the occasional drip of the faucet on his foot.

The other part was trying to rationalize away the events immediately afterwards. He was drunk. They were both drunk. Jumin rarely had physical contact with anyone and his body just...reacted. Zen was just the unlucky one that had been in contact with him at the time. That was all.

He limped to rehearsal, any thoughts of anything chased out of his head by the director yelling at him for not being able to move like he was supposed to, and the PD gifting him with a hotel room key of his very own.

He went to retrieve his things that night, finding the door unlocked and Jumin on the not-quite-a-sofa. Seeing him for the first time since the night before brought the memory rushing back - including, Zen realized with something approaching horror, the feeling of Jumin's...of Jumin against his leg.

"Producer got me a new room," he said brusquely, gathering his bag off the floor.

"That's good," Jumin said quietly. He had a glass of wine again, and was sitting very rigidly, back barely touching the sofa. Zen fled into the bathroom for his toothbrush.

"So, uh," he called from the other room. "Thanks. I guess. For the. Bathtub."

"You didn't have to sleep there," Jumin said. Zen shook his head.

"It was...for the best." They were getting perilously close to talking about it, which was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted to flee to the solitude of his own hotel room, and not have to see Jumin in person again until the next party, where he could keep a room full of rich people between them at all times.

"Zen, about - "

Zen waved his hands, one of which still contained a bottle of shampoo, and made a loud, negative noise. "Nnnnn. Nope. No. I don't want it ever uttered into the universe ever again. It was - what it was, and what it is now is over, as is this sleeping arrangement." He shoved the shampoo into his bag and hefted it onto this shoulder. "Goodbye."

Jumin said nothing as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

The first thing Zen did in his own (less impressive) hotel room was take a shower. Which wasn't new, it was what he usually did in a hotel room. He didn't like getting into a clean bed with the grime of the day still on him. But even endless hot water couldn't get him to relax now; The Jumin Thing (as he was calling it) still weighed on his mind, much to his annoyance. Was Jumin actually gay, like the tabloids said? Was it just what Zen had theorized before, physical contact he wasn't used to?

He'd said something about self-control; was it something Jumin actually wanted?

He tossed that thought aside. Jumin didn't want, he was a robot. A rock with a face and an expensive suit.

But, he mused a moment later, he was technically male. (Which you now have pr- nope nope nope shut up shut up shut up forever) And all men wanted. He'd said it himself, repeatedly. What if Jumin...wanted, and didn't have any way to deal with it, so being in sudden close quarters with a human being caused a...reaction?

Zen supposed he couldn't blame him, if he was looking at it clinically. He just had that affect on people. But there were ways to deal with it. Two of them. One at the end of each arm.

Speaking of which. He shoved Jumin from his mind and rolled his head back on his neck under the water, letting it run down his face and onto his chest. If the shower wasn't going to relax him, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. So to speak.

There was no specific second party. Well, there might have been in the past, but she was off with Seven now, so that was out of the question. No, just the thought of another person, the phantom touch of skin against skin, and hands, and mouths. Maybe his brain threw together some kind of composite of people he'd seen, celebrities and women on the street, too jumbled together to be recognizable. But she would be here, in the shower with him. Knelt in front of him, her hair slicked back from her face with the water running over both of them. Her mouth, hot around him, her thin fingers against his thighs, his fingers tangled in her hair. Taking him deeper each time, fire shooting up his nerves with every movement, the water against his skin heightening every sensation as his nerves danced with her touch.

He would look down, to warn her of how close he was, and found dark strands between his fingers, grey eyes glittering up at him from between half-closed lids, thin lips wrapped around him...

Zen's orgasm ripped through him, stronger than anything he'd ever felt, until he was doubled over in the shower and having to support himself on the wall. His head was spinning and stars danced behind his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Fuck," he breathed, thumping his hand hard on the wall in front of him. "Fuck! Fuck that fucking trust fund kid. Fuck." He honestly didn't swear that much, usually. Jumin just seemed to be bringing out the four-letter words lately. "His stupid...reactions. Infiltrating my brain. Can't even jerk off properly. Fuck." He slapped at the faucet until the water turned off, and snatched the towel off the nearby rack. There was also the issue of the best orgasm he'd ever had, that he was trying to rationalize away with having been shocked at the invasion of his otherwise run-of-the-mill fantasy.

He fell into bed, not bothering to dry his hair, and prayed he wouldn't dream.

The rest of the week was normal, rehearsals and drinks afterwards and absolutely no more attempts to "relax" in the shower. He was terrified, now, something he was deeply bitter about, and had half-resolved to just punch Jumin next time he saw him and get it over with, except he was also terrified that Jumin might enjoy it.

So all in all he wasn't in a great mood his first day home, as he headed up the street to restock the fridge he'd cleaned out before his trip. A sleek car pulled up next to him, idling in the bus lane, and the window rolled down to reveal the absolute last person he ever wanted to see again.

"Zen," Jumin said, making him stop dead in his tracks.

"What do you want?"

"To talk to you. Get in the car."

"...no."

Jumin's lips pressed together in a thin line. "Please," he said, like it was in a foreign language, and Zen supposed it might as well be, for him. Still, he had said it, and rewarding the behavior might get him to repeat it in the future. That was how Zen rationalized going around the car and sliding in, sitting across from Jumin in the limo's spacious back seat.

"What," he said flatly. He startled as there was a whirring noise behind him; Jumin was raising the partition between them and the driver.

"I know you would rather not talk about what happened in my hotel room," he started, and Zen threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"I believe I said never speak it into the universe again, actually."

"...I need your help," Jumin said flatly.

"With what?!"

"I don't like what happened any more than you do," he said, and his face was indeed twisted in distinct displeasure. "It is...very upsetting to me, to have a reaction I cannot control. The only way I thought to learn to control it was through...practice. His face was slightly flushed again, and he turned away from Zen. "I...relived it, many times, in my mind. Every time, I had the same reaction."

"I don't need to hear this - "

"But only," Jumin continued, raising his voice over Zen. "With you. I...inserted many others in your place. I assume this result is because you are the only one I have actual tangible memories of."

"I don't need - "

"What I am asking." Zen crossed his arms and glared at Jumin, who clearly had no intention of stopping his train of thought for something as petty as Zen's comfort. "What I am asking is that you...help me recreate that moment. Until I can...control my reaction to it."

"No. Absolutely not. Why would you ever think - no." Zen reached for the door handle. "Let me out."

Jumin sighed. "I thought you might say that. I will have to find someone else to help me, and explain to them what happened."

Zen froze. As bad as it was that he knew it happened, the thought of someone else knowing it happened was horrific. And there was no way Jumin was delicate enough to avoid using his name.

He flopped back into his seat. "You manipulative ass," he said plainly. Jumin's expression belied nothing, but Zen hadn't expected it to. "Fine. Fine, as long as you promise to never mention it to anyone ever again. When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but - " He rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation. "Fine. Now. Whatever. Let's get it over with."

"Excellent." He lowered the partition enough to tell his driver to take them to his penthouse. Zen just hoped there was no papparazzi there.

"I've left Elizabeth the 3rd with Assistant Kang for an extra day," Jumin said.

"I'll have to buy Jaehee coffee," Zen muttered. "In reparation. How are we doing this?"

Jumin gestured at a clear bit of wall, and went to stand with his back to it. Zen followed and, with increasing discomfort, pushed him back against it, pinning him by the shoulders. Jumin's breath caught, and Zen hated it, hated the way his eyes drifted shut. His jaw was clenched, and he was clearly trying not to react, but there was a flush growing in his cheeks with every passing moment. For his part, Zen had him fully at arm's length, not risking getting anywhere near him. Not after last time.

"Dude," Zen said, after a good five minutes had passed. "How long is this gonna take? I can't stand here all day."

"You could try adjusting your stance," Jumin said, a rough edge to his voice that Zen also hated. "To be more comfortable."

"Not the point," Zen muttered, but he did attempt to stretch his legs somewhat, and in the process pressed Jumin even more firmly against the wall.

Jumin gasped, barely audible, his mouth falling open slightly at the increased pressure against his shoulders. Zen froze in place, as the sound had shot straight to his dick, stirring heat in his belly.

No, he said firmly in his mind. Don't even think about it. This is to get Jumin's shit straight so we can never think about it again.

Freezing in place had left him standing in an odd sort of runner's stance, and he tried to stand back upright while not moving Jumin any more. He didn't want any more...noises. But this required him to stand closer to Jumin, close enough to feel the heat coming off of him, and he sent another firm refusal to his dick as Jumin's breath puffed against his cheek.

This is Jumin Han, he reminded it. He is everything we hate. We are doing this so that he will leave us alone.

His dick retaliated with a memory, a vision of Jumin on his knees in the shower, followed by an explosive orgasm...

"Naugh," Zen said as his dick suddenly throbbed mutinously, not realizing it was out loud until Jumin opened one eye to look at him. Zen wished he hadn't, his pupil was blown wide.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Your cheeks are red."

"They are not."

"Are you - "

"No."

Jumin pushed back against Zen's hands, levering himself off the wall, and was suddenly in Zen's space. "You are," he said decisively. "You have the same problem I do."

"I absolutely do not," Zen said, taking a large step back. This was a mistake, he realized, as he could now see the bulge against the front of Jumin's suit pants, and from the line of his gaze Jumin could see what he was desperately willing not to happen in his own.

"Then what - "

"Don't," Zen snapped. "Just...don't, okay? This is the...misguided byproduct of my brain crossing wires at an inopportune time."

Jumin tilted his head, and Zen cursed himself for even giving him that much. Jumin wasn't stupid. Chairman's son or not, you couldn't be in the position Jumin was in if you were stupid. He was perfectly capable of putting two and two together, even in a situation like this, and there was a very satisfied look entering his expression that Zen wanted to smack right off his face.

"Don't," he repeated as Jumin opened his mouth. "Just...we're here to solve your problem, okay?"

"And then we can solve yours," Jumin said, stepping back against the wall.

"Absolutely not."

But now that Zen's dick had won its minor victory, it seemed to be going for the gold. Jumin was still...reacting...to being up against the wall, and every time he shifted or breathed introduced new images to Zen's mind. It was becoming rapidly excruciating to stand there while Jumin clearly got off to being pinned, and all Zen could do was stand there and hate himself.

"Look," he said after a while, looking away from Jumin (he didn't need to see his eyes right now, pupils gone wide and lids heavy). "Maybe...the problem is...you're not...finishing." The last word came out strangled.

"How do you mean?"

God damn it. "I mean...maybe the problem isn't the reaction, more that you're not...dealing with it."

"That's why you're here."

Double god damn it. "I mean you need to jerk off, Jumin. You need to get this out of your system so I can do something besides stand here like a coat rack."

There was silence. Zen risked looking at Jumin. He had turned his head away, and his face had gone very flush.

"I...considered it," he admitted, very quietly. "But...I couldn't get past...this part. I didn't know...what would happen next." His face twisted into a frown. "That was part of what was so troubling. Not being able to...control my thoughts."

"...I can't believe I'm asking this," Zen muttered. "What did you try to picture?" He wanted, desperately, to get Jumin along the path to healthy manual stimulation so he could go home and remember how pretty girls were. Or literally anyone that was not Jumin fucking Han.

"I...remembered...when your leg touched me." It was almost inaudible. "I thought about...pressing harder against it. About...you rubbing against it. On purpose."

Zen's dick responded very favorably to that suggestion. You gotta get him there, it muttered into the back of his mind. He can't fantasize, for the love of god. He needs the scene set for him. And if you don't help him get this under control, he's going to tell someone that you gave him a boner and they're going to go running to the press with it. This is self-preservation.

Sighing, Zen stepped closer. Jumin made a small noise of surprise, that turned into a shuddering sigh when he pressed his knee, gently, against Jumin's hardness.

"Like that?"

All Jumin could do was nod.

With equal trepidation, Zen rocked his knee a little.

Jumin whimpered.

Zen froze again. If his gasp earlier had stirred his dick's interest, this was like a rocket going off. Jumin's whole being had changed, just with that little movement. He was biting down on his lip, his eyes screwed shut, a blush hot across his cheeks. He was limp against the wall now, head rolling back.

The voice in the back of his mind said: You did that. You're the only one who's done that.

There was something very reluctantly appealing about that thought.

He moved his leg again and Jumin shuddered, his hands coming up to grab Zen's shoulders. A third time and Jumin's hips jerked forward, farther along Zen's leg, until his own leg brushed against Zen's hardness.

Zen shivered, then, his neglected erection welcoming the contact wholeheartedly, and snapping Zen's already strained self-control. He grabbed Jumin's leg, lifting it up to rest around his waist, and leaned in to grind against Jumin, pulling a full-fledged moan from the other man. The sound shot down Zen's spine and left him shuddering, having to rest his head against Jumin's shoulder.

"I didn't - " Jumin gasped.

"It's not all about you." Zen cut him off with another roll of his hips, another long grind of their bodies together, and the rest of Jumin's sentence turned into a series of stuttering gasps.

The angle was awkward and Zen was practically supporting Jumin's full weight at this point, so he turned them around, pointing Jumin at the bed.

"Take the suit off if you don't want to mess it up," he advised, shedding his own jeans just out of sheer discomfort. Jumin paused then, discomfort flooding his face, and Zen paused. He was desperately hard, and he'd be lying if a large part of him didn't like having smug, pretentious, know-it-all Jumin Han unraveling under his touch.

But not with that look on his face.

"Do you want this?" Zen asked. It was blunt, rougher than he could have asked, but not a lot of blood was going to the "tact" center of his brain.

Jumin considered for a moment, then resumed removing his suit.

"Hey," Zen said. "I need an answer."

"I am taking my clothes off," Jumin said, though he wasn't looking at Zen. "I thought that implied my cooperation."

Zen closed his eyes, fighting exasperation. "Yes or no, Jumin."

"...yes." Then, more quietly. "Please."

Jumin was down to an undershirt and boxers, and Zen had only removed his jeans, but he still pushed Jumin back on the bed and straddled him, watching Jumin's head drop back at the increased sensation that fewer layers allowed. Zen moved his hips and Jumin gave a small cry, hands clutching at Zen's forearms. Another thrust and he bucked up to meet it, seemingly unconsciously.

It was intoxicating. Zen was far enough gone to admit that. Every noise Jumin made, from soft whimpers to outright moans, sent fire down his spine, along with the way the cloth of his boxers caught and tugged against the skin of his cock, the way he strained against the fabric.

Eventually he needed more, though, and stepped back, making Jumin look up at him along the length of his body.

(Dark hair, glittering grey eyes....)

"Take 'em off," he instructed, remembering a moment later to add. "If you want. ...it'll help."

"With what?" Jumin asked, though he was already removing his boxers.

His eyes widened as Zen settled back over him, their now-bare cocks brushing together and making them both shiver, hard. Zen reached down, wrapping his hand around them both as best he could, and dragged his hand upward.

Jumin arched off the bed, chest heaving, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent O as Zen's hand made its way back down. Then up again, and Jumin was no longer making any noise at all, just a series of gasps and shuddering sighs as his body twisted under Zen's.

"Stay still," Zen grunted, then pausing as a thought occurred to him. Leaning forward, he placed a hand firmly in the middle of Jumin's chest, pinning him in place. Jumin looked up at him with wide eyes, but stilled. Just like he had against the wall. Zen moved his hand, and Jumin's head fell back, a guttural groan dragging its way out of his throat.

Zen released his own cock, wrapping his hand fully around Jumin's. And with him pinned to the bed, started jacking Jumin off in earnest, pulling louder and louder cries out of him, until he was scrabbling at Zen's shoulders and his hips were bucking up to meet Zen's hand. Zen was still achingly hard, worse now for what attention he'd given it, but his entire focus was on Jumin, on pulling him apart at the seams, watching his nerves fray and his body roll under his hands.

And then Jumin gave one last sharp, aborted cry, and his entire body went rigid as he came, most of it landing on his undershirt as he sank back down onto the bed, chest heaving and his entire body flushed red.

Wrinkling his nose, Zen padded to the bathroom to wash his hands quickly, coming back to see Jumin sitting up on the edge of the bed. He'd removed the shirt and was therefore entirely naked, but Zen thought that was a matter of semantics at this point.

"Feel better?" he asked. It sounded lame even inside his own head, but Jumin just nodded.

"You don't," he pointed out, and Zen waved a hand at him, headed for where he'd abandoned his boxers.

"I'll deal with it later," he said, ignoring the cry of anguish that went up in the back of his mind.

"...let me." He stopped, boxers in hand, and looked at Jumin. He looked serious, as he turned to face Zen without getting up.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to." Jumin licked his lips. Zen hoped he didn't see the way that made his dick twitch. (Thin lips stretched wide...) "I don't...want to owe you."

Zen considered that. There was something to be said for having a very rich man owe you favors.

There was also something to be said about not having to walk home with an aching hard-on.

"Only if you want to," Zen said again, and Jumin nodded. With a shrug, Zen walked over to the bed and stood in front of Jumin, who reached up hesitantly to wrap his hand around Zen's dick.

Zen groaned; just the touch felt wonderful at this point. Jumin's hand slid slowly downwards and Zen linked his fingers behind his head, just letting the touch wash over him and trying to forget who was touching him.

But that damned image wouldn't leave his mind, and after a moment he stopped Jumin with a hand on his wrist.

"There's something else you can do," he said.

"Am I doing this wrong?"

"No. Just." He sighed. "The other day, I was trying to get off in the shower, and just as I came I pictured you sucking me off and it's kind of been haunting me." It came out in one long run-on sentence as Zen stared at the ceiling.

"You do have a problem," Jumin said with some satisfaction.

"You are constantly my problem. Just in a different way from normal." He scowled down at Jumin. "You don't have to, but if you want to - "

"You helped me," Jumin said simply, and shifted to sit on the very edge of the bed.

"Have you ever - " Zen started, but Jumin looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Had you ever, before just now?"

"...fair." Zen closed his eyes as Jumin wrapped his hand around his cock again, this time guiding it forward, into his mouth.

Zen groaned again, but with more feeling - Jumin's mouth was an inferno and his fingers were cool where they rested near the base of his cock, the dichotomy making his head spin a little. Jumin was moving slowly, a little farther each time, and Zen dropped a hand on his head just to steady himself. Jumin paused, looking up at Zen, and the eyes he'd pictured, the still-blown pupils and the way the grey caught and refracted the light, the way his mouth looked, stretched around Zen's dick and the way he was still flushed from head to toe - it almost undid Zen on the spot. But he managed to tighten his fingers in Jumin's hair, urging him forward, and Jumin quickly found a rhythm that had Zen muttering four-letter words under his breath with every motion of his head.

He had both hands on Jumin now, trying not to thrust into his mouth, trying not to push him deeper than he wanted to go. But the coiled spring in his belly felt tight enough to snap, and he alternated between clenching his fingers in Jumin's hair and smoothing along the back of his head to keep himself steady.

Then he looked down, and Jumin looked up at the same time. Both of Zen's hands were fisted in Jumin's hair, and Jumin's eyes were heavy-lidded. His mouth was red where it encircled Zen's dick, and he was bracing himself on Zen's thighs. He pushed forward, farther than he'd gone yet, never breaking eye contact with Zen, and his fingers dug into Zen's thighs slightly with the effort of keeping his throat relaxed as he slowly moved forward. His eyes did screw shut at one point, as he took Zen almost completely in, his hands sliding around the back of Zen's thighs and clutching as he tried to stay there.

The image seared itself into Zen's mind, and he pulled back on Jumin's head frantically, pulling him away in time to come on his chest instead of down his throat. After being hard for so long, and the feeling of Jumin clutching at him, as well as having taken Zen all the way down, the force of his orgasm took Zen's legs out from under him, and he landed on his knees with his head resting on the mattress next to Jumin.

"Well." Jumin sounded disgruntled, but only mildly. His voice did sound raw, which at any other time might have stirred Zen's interest again.

"Sorry," he said exhaustedly, only half-meaning it. "Could have been worse."

"I suppose." Jumin stood. "I need a shower. I suspect you will, as well, before you leave."

"I wouldn't say no."

"Very well." Zen heard Jumin's feet pad across the floor, then pause. "Do you feel better?" he asked, and Zen muffled his laugh against the mattress.

[ZEN] Hey so. Sorry for the late text but...you haven't. Talked about it, right???

[Jumin Han] About what?

[ZEN] About THAT. The other day.

[ZEN] Please don't play dumb right now, I'm really being serious.

[Jumin Han] I have seen no reason to discuss it with anyone.

[ZEN] Good. There's not one. Ever.

[Jumin Han] I did mean to ask you something, though. I did not think of it before you left.

[ZEN] ?

[Jumin Han] What happens if the...problem arises in the future?

[ZEN] First of all, phrasing.

[ZEN] Second, you can deal with it yourself now, right?

[ZEN] That was the whole point.

[Jumin Han] And I have. However.

[Jumin Han] It was not as...satisfying, as when you assisted me.

[ZEN] Well, no. It won't be.

[Jumin Han] So am I to understand that you are also dissatisfied with having to deal with it yourself?

[ZEN] It's not my favorite way to deal with it, no.

[ZEN] Wait

[ZEN] Are you saying what I think you're saying

[Jumin Han] Should I not be saying it?

[ZEN] I thought it was a one-time deal

[Jumin Han] I don't remember saying that

[Jumin Han] It doesn't have to be.

[Jumin Han] If you don't want it to be.

[ZEN] ...