Genre: Oneshot - Romance, Fluff
Summary: Jonghyun's made a lot of mistakes in his life.
A/N: Well I was having Jongyu feels and litterally cranked this out entirely on twitter and just transfered it to here. >w<
Jinki's been friends with Jonghyun for a long time.
He was a loud, charming young man with a broad nose and big eyes and a big mouth. His boisterous personality set him apart from other people- and it was a wonder how they became friends in the first place. Jinki was on the shyer side- having to spend many months in a person's company before he opened up around them.
He really didn't have many friends and was truly horrible at making them- Kibum once said it was because everything that came out of his mouth was stupid- but there was something about Jonghyun that automatically made them click. The younger male was easy to be around, easy to talk to, easy to connect with. Jinki would say they were best friends, if he were so bold.
He really felt like someone the guy could rely on.
Jonghyun would stay at his house sometimes, showing up at late hours and random intervals during the month. Each time Jinki would open the door the normally bright and cheerful man would look a little dimmer, a little more defeated, his shoulders slumped and his eyes peering out from under his blonde bangs.
He looked like a kicked puppy.
Jinki would say:
"You forgot to call."
Jonghyun would reply:
Jinki would proceed to usher him inside and provide him with dinner, clean sheets, and a very comfy guest bed. Sometimes Jonghyun would sleep in and they would have breakfast together, but that was only once in a while.
He didn't think much of it, nor did he ever pry. Jinki had been friends with Jonghyun for long enough to where he was used to the way the man would bounce around with his boyish energy and make half the room deaf with his incessant chatter at one moment, then completely switch attitudes the next. The fact of the matter was that Jonghyun was too sensitive, too guarded, to susceptible to the changes around him- but that was okay, because Jinki wasn't. Maybe that was the reason they clicked.
Jinki started thinking a little bit more about it when Jonghyun crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.
"What are you doing?" He whispered, turning over to face the intruder.
"Sleeping." Jonghyun said, curling up in his comforter. Jinki blinked, but it really didn't do him any good in the dark; the other's face has still fuzzy and barely unrecognizable.
"You didn't ask." He said, feeling a little put off but the fact that he couldn't see the other person in his bed.
"Oops." Jonghyun replied, but his voice was already groggy with sleep. When he pressed into Jinki's chest, the elder felt a little relieved. He couldn't see him, but it was *definately* Jonghyun.
That morning he woke up with his face pressed up against his headboard and a blonde and brown mass lying face up on his chest. It was really, really, really damn uncomfortable, and Jonghyun was drooling all over his shirt.
It almost wasn't worth it until he saw faint little black marks whisping up from the shorter man's waistband.
He didn't ask about it when they ate breakfast that morning.
It became a regular occurrence after that, to wake up to Jonghyun crawling into his bed or already in his bed, but a part of him really didn't mind- seeing as the man would be so elated in the morning- and now Jonghyun always stayed for breakfast; it made Jinki feel really helpful and warm on the inside.
It also made his heart flutter, but that was besides the point.
Curiosity (and maybe a bit of something else) got the better of him one night.
"What's that on your hip?" Jinki blurted- all of the sudden feeling quite stupid for just *outrightly saying it*.
Jonghyun had just come out of the bathroom in Jinki's room, having become even more comfortable with the man to the point werehe was actually getting ready with him to go to bed. Jinki was sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking a little like a deer in head lights.
"A tattoo." Jinki blinked, not really expecting Jonghyun to be so open.
"What is it of?" At this, the smaller man bit his lip and fiddled with the seam of his over sized shirt. Actually- that was his shirt, Jinki realized.
"A word." Jonghyun shuffled forward so he was standing in front of the man, and for once Jinki had to look up to see his face. He tried not to think of how his friend's waist was a perfect distance away to wrap his arms around, or how his eyes were level with his broad chest. Slowly, Jonghyun pulled the seam of the shirt up, and Jinki's gaze darted down. He had pulled it up just enough to where the man could only see the teasing little whisps of black.
He raised an eyebrow and looked back up, but Jonghyun had an uncomfortable look on his face, yet trusting look in his eyes. Just as slowly as the man before him, Jinki hooked his thick fingers underneath the elastic on his hips and pulled down.
"Oops?" Jinki read, the "p" sound coming out with a pop.
The letters were scrawled in a curvy but not necessarily fancy script over the flat skin covering his pelvic bone. There were a couple of short lines drawn into the flesh right next to it; groups of fives marked off like he was keeping tally of something. Some of them were still red and swollen, he noted.
"Those are new." Jonghyun spoke, softly. The question was obvious, but Jinki asked anyway.
"It's how many mistakes I've made. How many people I've fallen for that have..." Jonghyun played with the hem of his tshirt some more, sounding all too much like a berated child. "left me."
"I come here after each one."
There was a long pause before the elder replied.
"I wish I could make them go away for you." Jinki wasn't sure what came over him, but he pressed a thumb against the raw flesh, hearing Jonghyun hiss quietly in pain. Immediately he panicked, sputtering apologies and frantically trying to make whatever pain he caused go away because everything he did was just so stupid-
Jinki froze, a dumbfounded look crossing his face.
"Thank you, hyung." He smiled an iconic kind of style with his big mouth and messy hair and hugged Jinki right around the neck- the postition they were in making them fall over into the bed. It felt really nice to have his friend pressed up against him like that- and he knew enough to know that it was a different feeling than with his other friends- something more special
"Yeah?" his voice was muffled, face pressed right up against Jinki's jugular.
He knew Jonghyun for a long time now, he knew how easily he gave his heart out.
"I hope I never become part of your tattoo."
Jonghyun punched his arm and proceded to kiss him senseless, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him so close their noses bumped and teeth knocked together- and maybe a lip or two was bitten- but it was perfect. Painful, but perfect.
"My biggest mistake was staying friends with you."
"Yeah?" Jinki gasped, flushed and panting. Jonghyun smirked at him, but there was still a soft fondness in his eyes. The younger boy cuddled in close, whispering something about how this was much, much better than being friends.
"Oops." Jinki finished, capturing his lips again.
Jongtae (in this part)Genre:
Threeshot - Romance, Angst, Abuse, DrugsRating:
It starts with one thing...A/N:
Still confusing. I know. This wasn't really supposed to come out this way, and I still feel pretty meh about it. It turned into a threeshot because I decided that Taemin's past deserved it's own part. :3
and to reduce confusion
This part takes place before the last one; all except the first scene :3Part 1
Taemin let his head loll back, meeting the smooth porcelain with a solid thump. It didn't sting; only a dull throbbing that he decided didn't really bother him all too much. He blinked- once, twice- taking in the nasty tiles of the bathroom that lined the walls around him- saw how the smooth white was a muddled brown and yellow, how when let his head fall to the other side he could see his clothes lying on a heap in the corner and stained with a dark red dye. The dye had spread to the ground, droplets leading to the tub and speckled over the broken mirror.
Shutting his eyes, he took a breath slowly, lethargically- like the action was taking all the energy that he had. Maybe it was, he thought, slipping further down into his clouded tub water. It was murky and dark, threads of a bright crimson exploding underneath the film of filth lying atop the tub. It was cold by now, unwelcoming and hostile. His muscles ached, looking for a release that would never come, yet his exhaustion keep him in place.
He was just so, so
He felt himself slipping from reality; lost in wishes and hopes of a better life. A better life, he thought, would be one where he was always warm and safe, where he would have his lover and they would lay every night and rediscover their passion, where there would be never be a dark day or night because...
Taemin's hands reached up in an attempt to catch himself- his nails bloody and broken and clutching the edges of the tub tightly. It was cold to the touch.
Taemin felt himself slipping.
"Where are you going?"
The boy asks, innocent eyes chasing the woman around the room. She darted to and fro, occasionally asking him to scoot over or gently stroke his hair, the fine black strands gliding through her fingers. She stuffed another shirt into a large green bag, sighing heavily. Shoulders tense, she turned to face her son, a deep remorse evident in her eyes.
"There are certain things that... adults have to do sometimes."
A loud crash is heard from down stairs, followed by a curse and a door slamming. The mother winced while her son jumped off the bed and ran to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and acting like a kid much younger than he really was. She could feel him trembling and sniffling into her blouse, the only other sound in the now empty house.
"Taemin," she cooed, kneeling down to his level and prying him off her body. "Baby please listen to me." Her voice was comforting and her words light, wiping away his crystalline tears with her smooth fingers. He sobbed more, face a blotchy red mess. "I love you. So much."
The boy hiccupped loudly, continuing in a broken voice.
"But you don't love Dad."
"No. I don't." she whispered, kissing his forehead gently. He loved it, he loved the warmth it filled him with, but it was bittersweet; chilled by the promise that this was one of the last.
"I love you, Mom."
He would see his mother every night.
He saw her collar bones and shoulders- smooth and bony; he saw her nose- the gentle downward slope that stemmed from her eyes; he saw her hip bones- the way they jutted from her thin pelvis and created sharp bumps underneath her skin.
He saw her every time he looked into the mirror.
His father saw her too. He looked her with a disgusted scowl, hating her voice, her figure, her arms, her fingers. He hated it all. He ignored his son- pushed him in the back of his life and only paid attention to his ex-wife- Taemin could do nothing more but cling to his past.
"Hyung?" He whispered one night, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and covers. His brother didn't bother looking back at him, too immersed in his school work. He grunted in acknowledgement, but nothing more. Taemin waited for a moment- the heavy atmosphere probably only noticeable to him. "I think Dad hates me."
The rhythmic tapping of the elder's pencil stopped, washing the room over with an even more tense silence that gnawed at the boy's stomach and made him feel nauseous. He turned in his chair to face his younger brother, but the boy wasn't looking at him. The small body was buried in his bed, shaking slightly.
"He doesn't treat me like he treats you." Taemin continued when a warm hand settled itself on his hair. It reminded him of his mother, but it couldn't be, because it was he was his mother. They were one in the same. "He asks too much of me. I can't do it." The warm, thick fingers stroked his scalp, and it was times like this he really loved his brother. He always really loved Jinki.
"Taemin, don't say things like that." The elder whispered, only half-heartedly trying to convince the latter. He tried, for the sake of the boy, but it was obvious. Taemin trembled, shuffling closer to the warm body. "He wishes I was like you." Jinki didn't say anything. "I wish I was like you, too."
"You don't want to be like me." The former whispered, not looking at the boy. "You're perfect the way you are."
It was incredibly dark that night, Taemin remembers- not a single shred of light shone in through the windows.
The first time Taemin meets Jonghyun is in his first year of high school.
He's dyed his hair a pale golden color and it's gained him a lot of attention- his father protested loudly and a bit violently as always, but the blond didn't regret it. He liked the way it made him feel- bright, happy- setting him apart from a much darker past.
When he sees him, he's with the kind of people Taemin knows he's afraid of- the type that loiter behind the school and do things they'll regret when they're older; things the school board pretends they don't know about. The boys dress in dark rags and the girls wear less material than a head band, but it's not them that caught the blonde’s attention- or the teen making a fool of himself by flipping and falling on an old skate board.
Admittedly, it was his eyes. Big, dark brown eyes that shone brilliantly from afar. There was something sparkling inside them that Taemin couldn't put his finger on straight away, but he liked it. He had dark skin and even darker hair, and when he waved the younger over his muscles shifted and rippled and beckoned. The other people in the crowd seemed to pay no mind, lost in whatever consciousness of life they had adopted, but the blonde grew extremely nervous- gripping the straps of his backpack tightly and trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
Jonghyun was touchy from the moment they met, wrapping his thick arms and fingers around the younger teen and introducing himself- skipping the "friends" he was with. They weren't that important.
Jonghyun's eyes were even more beautiful up close.
Taemin's life turned for the worse when his brother went to college.
He hated it. His father kept him confined in the walls of his room like a prison, chained to his schoolwork.
Jonghyun called him that first night, telling him to sneak out his back door and join him for a night drive. It was dangerous and risky and it sent a shock of excitement coursing through Taemin's not-so-rebellious body; he just couldn't say no.
They ended up settling themselves on an old abandoned cliff off in the outskirts of town for hours, shoulders brushing and thighs touching as they cuddled together in an old blanket on the bed of Jonghyun's truck and let their feet dangle off the tailgate. It was cliché, the blonde idly thought as he stared off into the bright city lights dotting the sky. He pulled the piece of fabric closer to his frame. The blanket was warm and large and smelled like the older male- musky and with a hint of dirty leather- but he didn't mind.
When the brunette put his arms around the boy, he was so surrounded by Jonghyun and his presence; he didn't mind that either.
When he kissed him it tasted faintly of mint, but mostly like ash and smoke- harsh and bitter and a tad bit uninviting, but the older man cupped his face with one burly hand and held his small bicep with the other, pulling him closer and welcoming him in. The blond melted into the sensation, body tingling and heart fluttering. It felt fantastic, and he really, really
He wasn't surprised when he got home.
"Where the fuck were you?" He flinched away from the angry man, not meeting his eyes. He knew. He knew it was a bad idea.
"What? You don't have anything to fucking say?" His father fumed, "You're a damn disgrace is what you are- I can't even fucking trust you!" Something shattered against the wall behind him, but he still wasn't looking. He was scared, trembling. A large hand grabbed him by the collar- that
he could see- and drug him roughly upstairs, shouting curses and profanity at the younger boy as his feet knocked against the steps and his neck was rubbed raw from his shirt. Shoved into his room and into darkness, he could only listen through the door as the raging man screamed and set on a path of destruction down the hall.
He cried, leaning against his bed as his frame shook, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his outdated phone. The glowing rectangle illuminated the room, flashing with comforting words from Jonghyun. Tonight was great! :)
Taemin smiled, texting back a simple response. The stars were beautiful.
It was hot and stuffy and the worn out leather was sticking to his skin and chaffing him in places it really shouldn't, but Jonghyun was whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he rocked back and forth over the boy. Taemin gasped, reaching desperately for something for his clammy hands to hold on to as Jonghyun pushed in a bit deeper, kissing a fiery path up along his jawline to his temple.
It hurt. He held never, in his entire life, felt something like it before. The pain was splitting him in two and searing deep into his muscles - imprinting itself and marking its territory from within, but the elder tried to soothe as best he could, touching and caressing his body lovingly. The contrasts in the sensations made the boy whine, biting his lower lip to keep himself from screaming. Jonghyun pressed closer to wipe away the sticky blonde strands of hair plastered to his face, letting he warm gray blanket consume them further. It didn't add any cushion or comfort- only serving to make them hotter- the slide to their sweat soaked bodies gliding with a slick sound underneath the insulation.
Jonghyun twined their fingers together, finishing off and collapsing as their beings became two again, no longer bound by any physical bond of love. Taemin curled into a ball and shook violently, the full weight of the situation dawning on him.
Maybe he felt used. Sick. It was nearly impossible with the way Jonghyun was holding him so close, but he felt empty in his heart.
No words had to be exchanged- Jonghyun wrapped up their naked bodies the fuzzy blanket and carried the boy outside to the back of his vehicle. They sat together, much like their first night sneaking out- wrapped up in each other's arms and in the comfort of the invincible shield that was the coverlet. Taemin cried loudly and sometimes softly, all the while Jonghyun held him in his strong embrace and kissed whatever inch of skin he could reach.
"I'm sorry." Jonghyun whispered, his swollen red lips brushing against Taemin's forehead.
They stayed together all night, tangled up in the thick fabric and in each other's limbs- dried tear tracks streaming down the younger's face.
"I love you, Dad."
The words were quiet, whispered in a thin stream of the frozen air that escaped Taemin's lips. He tried to pour out as much emotion as he could, but the flesh was numb and purple- chapped and swollen and unfeeling. They were useless either way, he knew, but it didn't stop him from repeating it over and over again into the mahogany door that separated him from his home.
"I'm sorry." he tried, but that fell on deaf ears as well. He wasn't really sorry. He wasn't sorry for who he loved, he wasn't sorry for what he had done, he wasn't sorry for the lifestyle he chose (not yet), yet he was
sorry. He was sorry it had to end this way, locked out in a cold winter night while his fingers bit with the same violet hue that graced his left cheekbone.
His ears were still ringing from the intense volume of his father's shouts and his torso still trembling from fear, but he could only hope to stand and wait for his boyfriend to come rescue him and take him away, permanently.
"You're just like your faggot mother." it still throbbed in his ears like it did in his heart- the final ill-intended words had boomed at him before the swift slam of the door echoed in his front. It didn't surprise him. No matter how he changed his hair, or his clothes, or his friends- he was still his mother inside and out, and that was all his father would ever see.
It's too dark outside on that cold, cloudy night- the sky a inky mess of lighter tones and dappled shades here and there, but that's all there is too it. Taemin breathes heavily, feeling claustrophobic at the sight and the thought. So trapped, he decides, and when a pair of glowing orbs appear in the distance of the road, he almost mistakes them as stars; as an escape from the dark prison he has been condemned to- or has he been freed? He doesn't feel free yet.
The blonde only feels free when he's in Jonghyun's arms, staring into passionate, concerned, gentle brown orbs and in that instant- Jonghyun's eyes sparkle in that certain way they always do, and Taemin understands.
A small flame flickers underneath an aluminum sheet, giving off a dimmed glow and a bit of smoke in the process. The younger slinked forward, meeting eyes with his lover for only a moment before he leans into the thin, shiny metal with a cut straw- a push pin pressed securely into the top. Jonghyun's assured him he's done this many times- so he trusts the man as he starts to huff a small amount of the vapor coming from the foil.
In the dark, the bubbling liquid looks a little like blood - he muses, so maybe that makes him some sort of vampire. It feels good. It feels really good. Jonghyun is Dracula and Taemin is but a newborn, feasting hungrily on the stimulating poison.
Jonghyun chuckles and kisses him, and in between the roaring rush of endorphins flying in their brain- Taemin thinks that being disowned wasn't a bad thing after all.
Moving out has made Taemin feel beyond his years. He's noticed how his body has thinned, noticed how his eyes have sunken in a bit further into his head, how his hair has grown a little shaggier and his black roots can be seen plainly underneath the mop of bleach blonde. He's still in school, but he doesn't go as often as he used to- he doesn't find much of a reason too.
Jonghyun takes care of him. They lay together on his dingy air mattress pushed against the corner of a small room with chipping paint- passing by the days bare-skinned and tangled in each other's beings. There are a couple of boxes and patched up furnishings and a small window- but the boy doesn't care for it. They eat when they have to- bathe together in a small tub while their limbs knock together in soapy water and spend an immeasurable amount of time listening to music and singing in sharp tunes and broken lyrics.
Well, mostly Jonghyun sings. Taemin smiles a pretty pink lipped smile and listens and wonders how anyone could have such a beautiful and rich voice; saturated with feelings the boy is convinced Jonghyun teaches him about every day.
It isn't perfect, but Taemin is beyond
People just weren't meant to be contained, Taemin learns. The old room was his home, he knew, but he longed to see the outside after his first few weeks. He went to school periodically, yes- but it wasn't enough for his inner craving for fresh air and peace.
He dreams of seeing the brightly colored foliage in the park and hearing the local duckling's squeaky quacks coming from the ultramarine pond. It feels natural and right, so after going to school one afternoon, he doesn't make the lonesome trek back to the brunette's run-down apartment.
He spent the day basking in the warm glow of the sun- and it's everything and more than he remembered it being- shining and safe and he absorbs it like a sapling that's been underneath the other trees for too long. He doesn't return until late that night- until Helios has driven his chariot out of the sky and left an empty, endless void in his wake. There aren't even any starts out yet.
Jonghyun wasn't very happy with him.
He spent the night curled in a small ball in the warm grey blanket from his boyfriend's truck. It smelled a little different than it he remembered it, but he couldn't really tell over the potent smell of iron in his nose. He cries- he's always crying- and wishes to be back outside in the sun, because the blanket doesn't do the same. For once he didn't feel safe in it, and the warmth it provides is a false one. It's nothing like what he experienced earlier.
Jonghyun apologizes from behind him- and it sounds like the night they first had sex- but when he wraps his arms around him, Taemin flinches. They'd hurt him. Strong arms had stricken him; honey-laced voice had cursed him. He wants to laugh, because the night is so reminiscent of that night all those months ago with his father- only Jonghyun is no longer freedom.
"I'm so sorry. Don't ever leave again." Taemin would snort at the irony of his words if he could; contradicting his apology with a threat. His nose is swollen and might be broken, but Jonghyun won't stop repeating "don't leave". He doesn't look back.
He sees a star shining out of the window, and almost mistakes it as a reflection of his lover's eyes.
He decides he really despises that blanket when he comes home one night and finds it pressed firmly between two flushed bodies.
It's all a bit of a blur.
He remembers screaming and his boyfriend - if he can even call him that anymore- screaming back and it's a violent, angry mess. The third party is sprawled on the bed still, wrapped up in the wretched fabric and observing the scene before him with careful feline eyes.
Taemin ignores his long limbs and blonde hair.
It's infuriating how the other man can look so nonchalant- like he doesn't regret a single
thing. There's a small smirk on his pouty lips, reflecting a little light from the abundant amount of gloss he still had smothered across his face. He turns his frustrations to the bare man, and Jonghyun silences him with a swift slap to his mouth. The blonde is hurt, sure- but he's too angry to feel sorry for himself in the moment.
When he looks over to the bed again the man is gone, but the sin is still imprinted into the covers and the wall and all over his boyfriend's fucking body
and the brunette is growling incoherent and dirty words.
"Why do you have to fuck everything up?"
"I love you, Taemin."
Taemin fights back the vomit in his throat and the stinging in his eyes and nods, watching Jonghyun in the mirror.
He's holding him from behind, kissing up his neck and under his ears.
Taemin looks destroyed, in every sense of the word. His shoulders and hips are bloody and bony- his pale skin looking even more paper-like and pasty underneath the multitude of cool-colored bruises blooming over his figure. He looks at himself, he doesn't see a blonde boy with sunken eyes and spindly fingers and an exposed rib cage.
He sees a beautiful wife and her husband- and they are so irrevocably in love, he has to look away. If he is his mother; Jonghyun is his father.
He still wants to vomit, coming to the realization that their love was doomed from the start. "There are certain things that... adults have to do sometimes."
He's not an adult yet, he's not sure what he has to do.
So he doesn't do anything.A/N 2:
Um so yeah. This is pretty crappy. Unbeta-ed. As always, excuse weird sentences and typos @_@
Not gonna post this to community yet until after I've edited it all and skdjfnljankjnlf
also not spotting until I edit it btw
On the RoadPairing:
Drabble - Marching Band AU, Friendship, FluffRating:
Jinki gets nervous for their first competition.A/N:
Just something I started on the way to our competition on saturday. :3
Drum Majors are the conductors of the band, they tend to have so much stress on show days. I'm imagining Jjong on the drumline tbh probably like a bass drum or snare idk
Forgive typos because I'm a noob and this was on the bus on my ipod OTL
Jinki groaned, awakened by something poking at him steadily. Sun was somehow shining in his eyes, despite his thick pink letterman jacket shielding him from the oversized bus windows.The bus was rumbling, hot- the back of his neck was sticky and grimey with sweat. He shifted uncomfortably and faced the perpetrator who woke him, finding a teen boy peering in between the two seats he occupied; large brown eyes shining. He looked a little lanky for his age, his loose t-shirt pulling taut over broad shoulders built up with muscle from the instrument he played.
"What do you want?" He grumbled- his voice a little thick from sleep.
"Gotta get up, captain!" He poked at him again, laughing boisterously when the older boy tried to smack his hand away. The bus hit a bump, jolting the two bodies to the side. "Your walkie-talkie has been going off for a while now." Jinki groaned, again.
"Don't call me that..." He trailed off, sitting up reaching around for the miniature radio, holding it up to his face and mumbling something about repeating orders. The director relayed something about being close to the stadium, the distorted words not really registering in his mind until he saw the expectant look on the other boy's face; beaming like a dumb ass. "What?"
"Aren't you excited?" He grinned, that ridiculous kind of grin Jinki got used to seeing where his bottom teeth would jut out and he would tilt his head- the apples of his cheeks glowing. The honey-haired boy swallowed, throat constricting and stomach twisting in knots.
"No." He answered honestly, playing with the clasp on his hat box and poking the antennae of the radio into the cushions of the seat. He avoided the boy's gaze, trying to stop himself from comparing the glint in his eyes to the bright stadium lights, the energy following through him just like the rush of adrenaline that he would get when he stood on the center podium and put his hands in set position-
"Hey," The boy whispered, breath suddenly on Jinki's face. He settled his head right between the two head rests, breaching the little bubble of privacy the drum major got from having his own seats. The elder blinked, getting caught up in the way his fellow band mate suddenly got serious- the way his voice dropped to a volume only they could hear- the way that for a moment everything else was drowned out and the incessant chatter from everyone seemed to cease and only the steady hum of the buses' engine was present; faintly.
"You're not head drum major for no reason. You can do this. We believe in you."
Somehow, this didn't calm Jinki down very much.
The other boy seemed to sense it, reaching over with his gloved hand; the fingers of it cut off in a stylish and practical manner. He stuck out his bare pinky, waiting for his friend to do the same.
"I believe in you."
Jinki smilied softly, his eyes crinkling up and a lightness coming over the both of them as he twined their pinkies together, gripping with all his might.
"Thanks, Jjong." A/N 2:
One of our drum majors seriously looked like he needed someone to be like "Hey buddy YOU GOT THIS". Poor thing.
Band is my life //sigh
I need to stop being a lazy ass and do shit.
I haven't even been on here in like a week in a half. //cries
Title: Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
Genre: Oneshot - Smut, Slave/Master
Summary: Jinki likes to be dominated -he likes it rough- and he has no problem asking his dongsaeng to help him out.
A/N: Porn. Pretty much just porn.
Why do I write these things? ;~; It's funny because this was originally supposed to be Ontae, but... I couldn't do it XD So. Yeah. Love. ♥ There will probably be tons of typos in this like always, excuse me >_<
The older man looked up suddenly in surprise. Sweat tricked down his neck in a tantalizing stream, down past a tight black collar and across his bare chest. He stared directly into his dongsaeng's eyes, not breaking eye contact with the dark orbs as he knelt- frozen.
"I said," the other man began, reaching down to grab the kneeling man's chin, gripping it between his leather clothed forefinger and thumb. With his other hand, he pulled back on a thin leash, choking the latter slightly. "Kiss. Them."
The collared man braced himself against the cold ground like a kitten and eyed the black leather mounds cautiously- sending one more glance to the man above him- and darted out his tongue to meet the cold shoe. He took tentative, small licks, his pink tongue barely making contact with the supple leather. He groaned lowly and he pressed his full lips to the shoes soon after, peppering soft kisses to the top slowly- savoring the taste. The shoes were polished and cleaned, but they still had the nasty leathery smell all shoes had, making him scrunch his nose up in displeasure.
"Jinki," the other man purred. "Do you not like my shoes? I had them just cleaned, for you, darling." he smirked. "Maybe you don't think they're clean enough? Do you want to fix them for me?" he leaned back in his plush chair, getting comfortable.
"Master." Jinki whimpered, nuzzling the top of the laces up to the tongue, where the shoe ended and his master's leather jeans began. He was begging, silently, for more, for more access, more permission.
"Baby," He tucked the tip of his foot underneath Jinki's chin. "You know how much I love seeing you under me like this. All at my feet little a good little boy." he then pressed the bottom of his shoe to Jinki's lips, which the letter responded to by kissing lightly, his eyes never leaving the man's. His Master loved seeing him at his feet, and in turn, he rather quite enjoyed being there.
Jinki continued pressing butterfly kisses all around the shoe, desperate for attention from his master. He started to lick the outside surface with long, flat strokes, the cold leather feeling smooth and traction-free under his tongue. It vaguely registered how disgusting it was for him to be doing that, but the way the material felt on his mouth only served to turn him on, and the more he licked it, the better it felt- he wished for something else between his lips, something longer and hotter and full of bumps and ridges that would just feel and taste absolutely amazing against his taste buds- brain hazy with a mixture of lust and arousal.
Minho groaned from up above him, loving the sight of his elder worshiping him.
"Jinki," he called again, pulling the man up to his knees. The older man leaned into the seated man obediently, his hardened nipples rubbing against the black clothed columns that were his legs. He ran his tongue across his lips absent-mindedly- mouth running dry as he heard his name being called again without any honorifics, or respect- not that he would admit that got him off.
Minho lazily trailed his foot along the man's legs, nudging it between the man's glorious plump thighs and reveling in the strangled whimper Jinki released when the cold shoe came into contact with his throbbing heat. He keened, his breath coming out in short, breathy huffs as Minho relentlessly stroked up and down. The rubber edge of his sole rubbed against the angry red head of his penis once, only once, fitting into the slit for a moment and teasingly pulling away. Jinki felt like he was dying, heat flushing all over his body.
"You're so dirty. Look how wet you are." he tried to pull the foot away, but was stopped by the desperate squeeze of Jinki's thighs- keeping his leg in place. "And so needy." he chuckled as he jerked his foot upwards, knocking the other man's length harshly. The elder hissed in pain, releasing his grip on the foot. "Look at the mess you made on my shoes."
Jinki flushed an even deeper red, turned on even further by the sight of his shiny pre-cum slathered on the top of the shoe.
"Master," he breathed with his beautifully toned voice, leaning in closer. "Touch me please."
"What was that?" he whispered while stroking Jinki's soft hair, running his fingers gently on the crown of his head. Jinki let out a low, gravely sound close to a purr and arched up into the hand. Minho smirked, pausing his actions for a moment before roughly gripping the caramel locks out of the blue, using the leverage of the man's weight against him to haul him up higher. Jinki let out a sharp cry, one of his hands flying up to grab Minho's. "What do you want, pet?" He whispered again, his voice soft- yet Jinki could still hear all the hidden threats and dark themes lacing the words.
"M-master," Jinki looked up at him with hooded eyes. "I want you to touch me." Minho tightened his grip. "I beg you."
Minho smirked, hauling the elder up by his hair and his arm and placing him on his lap. Said man braced himself against his leather-clad dongsaeng as he was pulled further up into his lap, his rear end pressed flush against Minho's crotch. His large hands stroked down Jinki's sides; hands that held so much power and control over the whimpering may on him- the gloves creating hot friction that chaffed at his skin. It was unpleasant, slightly yes, but more than anything Jinki just wished it was Minho's actual hands that were caressing him; that were ghosting slowly down to his butt and groping softly.
"Ugnn-" The smaller man moaned, arching his back and trying to force his hips into Minho's abdomen so he could get some sort of relief, but his efforts were wasted. Minho's hand came down in a sharp slam; reddening the tender flesh and making his butt visibly jiggle. Jinki cried out in pain as the action was repeated- Minho watching the scene over the man's soft ivory shoulder. He held up his free hand to Jinki's face in a silent order, to which Jinki understood. He leaned forward and bit the tip of the glove ever so slightly so The Master could remove it easily, then spit the glove out of the way so he could suck on the man's bare fingers. Minho groaned, feeling the elder's limber muscle work around his digits; liberally coating them in saliva.
"Suck on those fingers, baby, get them nice and slick for me." To this Jinki moaned again, letting the fingers pop out with a lewd sound when Minho deemed them ready. He pulled the man's cheeks apart with the hand that was already on his ass and traced the puckering hole slightly with his wet index finger, feeling goose bumps spread across the soft skin. Jinki whined, pushing back onto the appendage, hoping to achieve some sort of breech to his inner core. Minho's finger slipped in with practiced ease from the amount that they've participated in this act, but it was still met with the hot, tight friction of the man's walls. "You're so tight, baby, just like always."
The elder groaned, wrapping his lean arms around his master's neck and bouncing slightly, trying to force the fingers in deeper and deeper with each pathetic jerk of his body. He would just have so much more leverage if only Minho would just fucking move his fingers, but no, he kept his finger still, watching in amusement as Jinki tried to fuck himself with the man's digit.
Minho teased and teased of course, keeping control of the situation, but as he added the second, drier, finger, he pushed them both far deep inside the man, stretching and scissoring as much as he could as the muscles around him contracted. Jinki whined, crying out loudly when Minho brushed a certain bundle of nerves, but did nothing to revisit that spot.
"Don't want you to get too excited," he chuckled, unzipping his pants and barely pushing them down enough for his throbbing member to pop out between he and Jinki, who had moved down on Minho's thighs to give him some space. He stroked himself once or twice, spreading his pre-cum around his head and shaft. It wasn't a good lubricant, but fuck, if they weren't doing this for the pain.
Jinki tried his best to moan when his master began to penetrate him in earnest, holding him up by the hips so he could slowly lower him downwards. He groaned, eyelashes fluttering from the searing pain, yet comfortable, familiar sensation. It filled him, the deliciously dry friction chaffing him, but just the sensation of Minho inside him again was incredible. About halfway in Minho gave up on being gentle, thrusting his hips upwards in a long, deep stroke that made his slave keen loudly.
Jinki struggled with the command at first, being terribly paralyzed by the sudden pain. He dropped his head forward, still bracing himself on the other man's shoulders and weakly tried to lift his hips up, only to have gravity pull them back down. His movements were shallow and jerky at first, but his groans turned into whimpers and moans over time, and he found himself trying to get more leverage to bounce, but his trembling thighs wouldn't allow it.
"Can you not do it by yourself?" Minho teased, strong hands coming to grip his hips tightly and grind his pelvis into the man’s hole.
"M-master!" Jinki's breath hitched when Minho helped pull him off and turn him around so that he was leaning back into his chest. His ungloved fingers danced around the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, spreading them embarrassingly wide, as if he was a trophy he was about to claim in front of the whole world. Jinki desperately grabbed behind him at the back of the chair and around the Minho as the man plowed back into his quivering hole, ferociously thrusting his hips with long, deep movements. Minho raised one of Jinki's legs higher over the armrest of the chair, making it nearly impossible for the smaller man to thrust back on the cock, but that didn't stop him from trying.
"Master! More!” he cried, head thrown back and chapped lips parted as he took each buck with vigor, wanting nothing more than to be able to impale himself further onto his Master's dick, but he had no leverage, and the intensity to which Minho was working was making him a pile of goo.
"H-harder! Ah! I-!" Minho thought his voice sounded perfect like that. Touched out, high and breathy, coming out in stuttered fragments from how hard upwards he was bouncing, each thrust slapping against his soft bottom and sending him jerking up. He saw Jinki trying to reach a hand down to grab his weeping length, but he quickly slapped it away, growling.
"You should know better than to touch yourself, slave." Jinki whimpered, expecting a punishment.
The younger boy grabbed at Jinki's neck, finding the thin leash that had been dangling from his forgotten collar the entire time. He pulled back harshly, causing the man to choke and sputter involuntarily. Minho licked his lips, admiring how beautiful Jinki looked, back arching dramatically from the forced angle of the leash and the way he was still driving into him. It was enough to push him even further over the edge, though he didn't want to finish off just yet- but he was so close, thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy.
Jinki's vision had spots in it, the edges becoming black and blurry, but god he loved it. His lungs were screaming at him, he had no control over his body, but he could feel himself getting hotter and hotter, coming closer to his completion than he's ever felt before- at it was taking his breath away, literally. One more well-aimed stroke to his prostate was all it took before he came- otherwise untouched- furiously all over his chest, muscles rippling and contracting as he fought the bond around his neck.
Minho finished right after, pressing in deep and filling him with his stick, warm seed, and releasing the grip on the leash. The elder man gasped for air, shaky and loud as he came down from his high. He still felt lightheaded, slumping against the man behind him.
They laid like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their sex.
"Hyung," Minho muttered. Now that their game was over, it was back to normal, back to formalities. "You're really heavy like this."
"You just almost strangled me to death. Deal with it." he huffed, still breathless. Minho's arms carefully slid around his waist, leaning forward and then burying his face into the back of the man's neck.
"Sorry." he mumbled. "But..."
"I didn't say I didn't like it." he could feel Minho's smirk.
"I could tell that much."
"Can we go to sleep now, Min? I'm really, really tired." his head lolled back, shutting his eyes and finally calming himself down.
"Sure, hyung. But next time tell me if it's too rough." he said, concerned.
"Mmm." he thought for a moment, cutely pursing his lips. "I like it rough, though."
Pairing: Jongtae, 2min
Genre: Twoshot - Romance, Angst, Abuse, Drugs
Summary: Taemin looks out his window; longing to be able to see the stars.
A/N: This... might be confusing. I hope you enjoy. It was really different
and difficult for me to write. :3
It was his favorite place to be.
It didn't hold any of his memories, it wasn't comfortable- no. It was trashed, foggy; thick with the smell of funk and a heavy longing in the air. Maybe it was the weeks’ worth of dirty laundry and rotting to-go boxes strewn around the floor, or the dirt collecting in the cracks in the concrete walls, even old blanket Jonghyun had kept in the back of his truck for too long.
It was a disgusting, large piece of crudely sewn fabric that had kept him warm on many of these kinds of nights. Starless nights when he was alone, dark, curled up on the slowly deflating air mattress they had shoved up against the wall. He bunched it up underneath his chin, not wanting to smell the shame on it, the amount of lies it told, the escapades and scandals the blanket had been on in its time in Jonghyun's car- some that he had participated in, some that he had not. It was like sleeping with the enemy, but he had to. There wasn't much he could do but sleep. He knew Jonghyun wasn't coming back until... most likely much later than it already was.
He could stare out the window. He loved that window. It was bordering morning now- the clouds painted in long smoky grey strokes on a lightening indigo canvas. But the view was muddled- he himself unable to appreciate the full beauty of the world outside this place; this room, this cellar, this cave. An oppressive cage he couldn't escape from- he didn't want to escape from. His grip on the blanket tightened.
As long as he had this much.
A room, a bed, a lover- a warmth in the form of lies he slept with every night.
He liked it.
"You're a fucking mess."
Taemin stayed silent and stared back at the man in front of him, but he couldn't bring himself to feel upset, or bothered. He was slumped against the wall, a knee propped up and supporting an arm that was dangling a bottle of some sort of poison in it. He watched it- watched it as the liquid sloshed around in the bottom of the tinted glass, not giving a hint to the actual color of the death inside. It slid down the sides and past the rim of the bottle as it was thrown backwards and upside down into the man's mouth. Large brown eyes stared back at the blonde, watching him back through hooded lids.
He licked his lips, characteristically baring his lower teeth when his mouth hung open.
"Do you want some?" Jonghyun asked, beckoning slightly with his rugged, worn out voice.
Taemin crawled forward on his hands and knees, careful to avoid any of the soiled garments on the floor as he eagerly made his way to the man. He could smell what it was on his breath; he could taste it on Jonghyun's lips as they came together in a languid caress, all open mouthed and nothing really much more than a drag of soft flesh between the others. Thick fingers tangled themselves in blond hair, but Taemin pulled back.
Jonghyun watched as the boy gripped the neck of the bottle with delicate hands, and a pang of guilt rang through him; but he was much too far gone- much too drunk to care or remember later as the blonde downed some of his drink.
He could tell by the look on Taemin's face that the alcohol burned his throat, but for some twisted reason, the boy took another swig.
Jonghyun pulled the drink away and lowered the boy to the ground, supporting himself above him so they could kiss again.
"Bring me a star."
Jonghyun didn't bother looking back from his task at hand- fixing his dyed brown hair in the mirror they shared. The room didn't have much, except for a dresser that balanced a broken antenna-style television and radio, a couple of boxes to act as desks and tables, small bathroom off the side with an equally small tub and sink, and of course- Taemin's favorite- the window. The mirror doubled as a medicine cabinet in their bathroom, the constant clack of it opening and closing the only clue to Taemin as to what Jonghyun was doing in the bathroom.
Taemin stated at the ceiling, wishing it was nighttime. Jonghyun always left during the day.
"I asked you what you wanted to fucking eat, so cut the shit and tell me. I don't fucking have time for this." came the growl.
There was a jingle of keys, and Jonghyun stepped out of the restroom expectantly pissed off as Taemin stared. He was clean shaven, hair styled nicely and spiked just the way the blonde liked it. He didn't respond, knowing that his boyfriend was only growing more impatient with him.
He wasn't really hungry. He didn't need food. He wanted more.
"I want the stars."
The slam of the door was his answer.
They were dancing, bodies melding together in a blend of sweat and flesh as they ground on each other, felt each other, breathed the same air.
Taemin loved to go clubbing- it was the only thing he liked to do when he wasn't vegetating in their room. He loved the way his body felt against Jonghyun's like this, he loved the way Jonghyun would press them together and buck upwards, the feeling of the hardness in the too-tight pants driving the blonde crazy. Jonghyun was a rough, passionate lover, and during late nights like this all was forgiven between the two- an incredible amount of sexual tension amounting between them and exploding like a burst of fireworks- sparks and noise and heat and all.
He was begging for it.
His lips dragged down the teen's neck, mouthing words that Taemin couldn't understand- it didn't make sense, nothing ever made sense when they were like this. Even there were so many other beings around them, all swaying and bouncing to the drumming music, it was like everything was white, everything was only them.
"Do you want the usual?" The husky voice urged, his hands riding up Taemin's sides and back. Muscles contracted in pleasure, the teenager struggled to nod, his surroundings becoming blurred and unfocused.
Was that a pill?
"Take another." he whispered.
White walls, white boards, hard floors- it was just like his room, only cleaner.
But he didn't like it here, and no one liked it when he was here.
Everyone was uniform, pencils clacking in tandem with each other's as they worked hard on their assignments, but Taemin didn't care.
It was a spur of the moment decision, and the professor even had the gall to looked surprised for once when he walked in, uniformless and blonde hair behold.
He hated it here. He hated the atmosphere; he hated how much people there were. They all pretended to care, false, crooked smiling faces that greeted him in the mornings, but behind closed doors they were faceless silhouettes, all speaking and criticizing him behind his back, he could tell. The thought made his stomach churn.
He wasn't a bad child.
He glanced out the window, feeling his heart break little by little. It wasn't the same window, but it painted a clearer picture- one that wasn't diluted with grime and smoke- it was one he had once been a part of; bright and clear, yet fleeting like his youth. It was too fast. It went by too fast.
Everyday something more was expected and everyday nothing got done. The pressure of being young.
He chose to escape it.
Unbeknownst to him, another teen wasn't paying attention to the lesson at hand. He opted to study to the blonde, wide eyes filled with something akin to worry and promise; but even if Taemin had seen, he wouldn't have been able to understand.
The room was spinning- no- Jonghyun was spinning.
The room was still. But it was dark. Was it always this dark?
The blonde felt a hand on his neck, pulling him far too forward than he felt comfortable with. He was going to fall straight through the ground if the hand pulled him any more forward. He struggled, trying to push the pressure back, but two hands were suddenly on his cheeks, they were cold, and he found himself looking into two big brown eyes.
"Taemin, you're falling." they whispered.
No, You're making me fall.
Taemin let himself be lowered to the bed, immediately reaching out for something to hold, something to clutch, something close to reality. He was handed a pillow- he thinks. Maybe it wasn't a pillow. Maybe it was that atrocious blanket. It didn't matter. He dung his nails into in the cushion and hugged it close, and he could smell it.
He could smell the lies, the affairs- but at the moment, it was life; it was real. Jonghyun took another deep breath of the poison in the room, the smoke filling his lungs and igniting sparks and endorphins throughout his brain and body. Taemin was wide-eyed and bushy tailed, observing the scene carefully, as if it could not process it fast enough the first time.
He was filled with the poison too.
It wasn't liquid poison, but he could feel it doing things to him. Things like the pills did and the alcohol did.
He turned over quickly, opting to look out his favorite window. The window was perfect. It was tempting. Taemin wanted to touch it, but it was swirling with colors- colors of different sorts and from all different ends of the spectrum. It was beautiful. It made shapes, refracted itself like a kaleidoscope and teased the blonde with its singing, its freedom and brightness.
Jonghyun reached out and flipped Taemin over, and the window went black again.
There were no stars, Taemin thought, eyelids fluttering as he breathed in the drug again.
"What is your fucking problem?!"
Taemin put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the venom the brunette was spitting at him.
"You're a little piece of shit; you know that, don't you?"
He bit his lip, settling himself in the corner their air mattress was in, it was just recently reflated; scrap pieces of duct tape holding the worn rubber together- fragile. Jonghyun was shouting at him again, and even through his fingers in his ears, his palms around the curves of the shell shaped appendages, he could still hear him.
"Listen to me!" He grabbed at the teen's wrists, yanking them fiercely out of their place. Taemin yelled, trying to kick his way out of the body that was slowing closing in his smaller one, shadows enveloping the negative space between them, and he cried. He cried at the putrid smell of alcohol he should have been used to by now, he cried at the way it didn't hide the smell of perfume all over Jonghyun's clothes.
It smelled like the blanket- and he didn't want to smell it.
He hated that blanket.
Taemin went to school the next day to avoid his boyfriend. He only really went when things like the night before occurred. Even the overly sterilized and sickeningly bright detention center was better than dealing with Jonghyun after a bad night.
The student watched him again with his knowing eyes, but it wasn't the dirt on his clothes that even still, were out of uniform, it wasn't the unruly blonde hair or the quiet, I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude, or even the telltale smell of pot that that caught his attention. That was what everyone noticed, what everyone judged him for.
It was the bags under his lack luster eyes, it was the cut on his swollen lip, it was the bruises on his wrist that were barely covered by the too-large button up he was wearing. It was the way he looked so crushed.
After class, he took a leap of faith.
His hand landed on something thin and bony, and he could feel the way the teen tensed up underneath him.
"I'm Choi Minho."
Minho was taken aback by the way the younger boy looked at him. His petal pink lips parted in shock, his pupils dilated and consuming the breathtaking brown- it was so dark, so full. He blinked, once, twice.
"Taemin." The boy breathed.
He came back drunk again.
The blonde was expecting it, but he was scared- he knew what was going to happen. He had been gone all day. This always happened. He braced himself emotionally, but he couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling of bile rising in his throat- a heaviness consuming him and making it so that he couldn't breathe.
Or maybe that was just Jonghyun's hand around his neck.
Jonghyun's lips attacked his, delving deep into the warm cavern with his tongue. He whined, the cut on his lip stung from the rough pressure. He was tired; he didn't want any of this.
Thin fingers wrapped around the older man's bicep, taunting him with the strength hidden underneath the flimsy material of the shirt. It was heavy, tensed, and Taemin knew he couldn't fight back. It wouldn't work that way. The prey always fell victim to the wolf. Jonghyun snarled, pulling back and slapping the teen clean across the face.
White flashed behind Taemin's eyes, a sharp ringing in his ears as he stumbled backwards from the impact. He could feel it, the little droplets of moisture accumulating on his cheek, the taste of iron filling his mouth and senses. The split in his lip had reopened, and the tears falling in the wound were stinging worse than needles.
His jaw was captured between strong, tanned fingers, a thumb pressing into his rapidly swelling cheek.
"What a dirty slut."
His nails dug into Taemin's flesh, drawing more blood.
"You're a fucking mess,"
His mouth was back on his face, possessive; dark.
"Messes like you need to be cleaned up."
Taemin could barely feel it.
"I brought you stars, Taemin."
The blonde refused to turn over, finding comfort in his tangible enemy. It was warmth. It was a kind of warmth, at least. Sweet words were being whispered to him, but he couldn't hear any of them.
It was like when they were at the club. Words being spoken into his skin.
It was like when they were high. Words not being registered.
He felt broken. Used. He always did. But he came back. Back to the lies. Back to the pain.
Jonghyun reached over, pulling on the strings that held ragged curtains in place. Taemin watched, his heart crumbling as his escape was shut off. He couldn't see his window. It was just dark.
But he could see the stars.
The man crawled into bed with him, leaning up against the wall in order to pull the younger boy's head in his lap. He stroked the silky soft strands of hair lovingly, massaging his scalp- the very scalp he had viciously tugged at earlier. Their hands clasped together, Jonghyun pulled Taemin's to his mouth- the same mouth that bit and spat horrid words at the boy-, kissing the back softly, gently, and then pulling their hands further up, pointing to the ceiling.
There were stars plastered all over the crumbly ceiling, the type that glow in the dark and adolecents have in their room when they're little and afraid of the unknown. They were softly shining a blue hue, bathing the room in the mild light.
"Can you see them?"
His voice is so lovely.
"I bought them for you."
Taemin's eyes watered, snuggling into the warm body under him.
It was his favorite place to be.
A/N 2: Yeah I know it doesn't make sense. ;n; I'm sorry.
Title: Tongue Action
Genre: Oneshot - Romance, Smut
Summary: Minho corners his favorite hyung in the bathroom before school starts to ask for a certain sexual favor.
This is total and utter crap and please excuse me for the poor excuse for reason and plot in this. Seriously. If you squint you might find a plot. This is just 2000+ of a blowjob. I'm so sorry.
I figured I should post something because I haven't written in a long time and
"You'll do this for me, won't you, Hyung?"
The older male fisted his hands into the leather sleeves of the younger's varsity jacket, trying to keep a little bit of distance between their two bodies. Minho was just so dangerously close, his arms coming up by other boy's waist and resting firmly on the tiled wall behind him, pinning him in place. He continued pressing forward while Jinki tried to step back, but his heels soon met with the wall and he gulped- he was trapped.
The athlete was just looking at him with such a strong emotion
, one that Jinki wasn't sure he had ever seen on the boy's face before, but the look made his cheeks flush and heat pool in his stomach, and he wasn't sure why. This wasn't supposed to be his choice- he wasn't supposed to want this in anyway at all; he was just going about his daily business and was cornered against his will. Minho leaned his head forward slightly, consuming Jinki in his presence, and for a moment, Jinki realized how close they were and tried to push himself even further into the wall. Minho's breath tickled against his cheek and neck, making his shoulders rise up and tense in an effort to deny Minho access to his sensitive jugular.
"P-please, I don't-" Jinki stuttered, his glasses fogging up embarrassingly. He could feel it; his cheeks were on fire. "I don't know-"
"You're so cute when you stutter." Minho was so close Jinki could literally feel
him talking, a slight smirk on his mouth, and directly after he could feel those lips pressing against his own in a chaste kiss- as innocent as they come. And then another, and another, and another.
Each increasingly less innocent, by Jinki's standards.
Jinki had his eyes shut tightly, unresponsive, trying to ignore the little electric shocks he was experiencing every time the other boy's lips were on his own. He extended his arms out in a futile attempt to push away the younger boy, but Minho wasn't having it.
"W-why are you doing this?" The elder gritted out weakly as Minho's long arms wrapped around his slender waist and pulled their bodies flush together. He tilted his head and pressed little kisses all along Jinki's jawbone in an effort to relax him, but he was still incredibly tense. "Please, just- I'll do your homework, I-I don't care, just what-" his breath was coming out in short gasps and puffs, hands moving up to Minho's shoulder's in another attempt to push him off, but it was half-hearted, really.
"But Hyung, don't you want to help out your dongsaeng? You know I really don't need help with homework." Minho placed an open mouth kiss to the corner of Jinki's mouth.
"Minho-ah, I-I don't know about this..."
Why did Minho want this from him
of all people? This was Choi Minho, the Choi Minho
, the popular, quiet yet slightly arrogant star athlete of the school whom everyone just simply adored. This was Choi Minho, the tall, short haired boy who gave up being his friend back when he started high school, leaving his childhood friend behind in exchange for a more popular, favorable kind of social life. This was Choi Minho, friend of the other jocks that bullied Jinki every day for being smarter than them, for being a nerd.
This was Choi Minho, asking Lee Jinki for a sexual favor.
Minho rested a large warm hand on Jinki's hip, sliding his fingers underneath the clean white button up shirt that was part of their uniform. His hands left a trail of goose flesh in their wake as he ran his palm across the ridges of the boy's ribs and then back down again. Jinki gasped, sputtered, shook his head and gave one last futile attempt to break away, but Minho was far stronger than him. His other hand came up and gripped Jinki's jaw firmly, making the boy wince in pain.
"Hyung, your lips are so pretty." he whispered, claiming Jinki's lips in his own again- this time much more ferociously. The elder closed his lips firmly and made a protesting sound as Minho furiously tried to get him to cooperate; he gasped, his mouth parting just enough for Minho to slip his tongue in when he felt the warm hand on his lip lower to his butt, groping the soft globes. He felt his knees give out as Minho's tongue ventured in his mouth, rolling around and engaging his own tongue in the mess. No, Jinki didn't really know what he was doing, but Minho was tilting his head this certain way again, coaxing the boy's tongue out only to take it into his mouth and suck on it like a lollipop. He wasn't sure when he started to kiss back, but god, it felt amazing. Soon Minho was running his talented tongue against his bottom lip and teasing the sensitive pink flesh before pulling it in between his teeth, nibbling on it- rolling it around a bit, biting it softly and sucking on it until Jinki moaned, melting into his larger, firmer body a bit.
"I'd bet they'd look so beautiful-" Minho trailed off after they broke their kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. He pushed hips upwards roughly, making Jinki squeak nervously when he felt the younger's erection digging into his stomach. "Come on. Class will start soon."
Jinki's glasses were still fogged and haphazardly strewn across his face, and said face was burning with indignation. Minho's arms left him in order to grab at his shoulders, pushing him downwards and closer to the ground.
"Please," he whimpered when the other male grabbed at his silky curly strands of hair atop his head and pushed the elder's face into the crotch of his black uniform pants. Jinki quickly grabbed the slender hips for support as his cheek was pressed into his old friend's obvious hard tent. It was hard to concentrate on anything when he had to slowly watch as Minho undid the fasten of his pants and press them just far enough down his muscular thighs for Jinki to have easy access to.
Jinki's eyes widened, flinching back a little from the red, pulsating erection in front of him. He was beyond embarrassed at seeing another boy's cock- he could honestly say he had never seen anyone else's in his entire life, not even his father's. But here it was, inches from his face, heat radiating off of it.
"Wh-hat?" Jinki sputtered. Minho tightened his grip on the hair with one hand and grasped himself with the other, positioning the tip of his cock at Jinki's plush lips. The smaller boy looked up nervously, his glasses sliding down his nose.
"Do it." Minho half-growled, but not in a threatening way; it was needier, more angry that the fact that he had to wait for his pleasure, and Jinki found himself biting back tears from the pain in his head and sheer humiliation. Minho was holding on so tightly. He inched forward, biting back the last of his pride and licking the swollen mushroom bud. It's not like he could do much else at this point- he was at the other boy's mercy, scared, and admittedly a little turned on when he heard Minho's loud groan from the contact of his tongue to his member. "More, Hyung."
Jinki's tongue came darting out again, licking tentatively at the shaft slowly. It smelled and tasted funny, Jinki decided, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. It tasted salty like skin and wet; the pearlescent beads of pre-cum dripping from the tip he tried to stay clear of, until Minho suddenly pulled backwards on his hair harshly and made him gasp- then sliding in the hot flesh straight into his mouth.
The elder was surprised at the force the boy used, tears streaming down his face lightly as he gagged and choked around the hot flesh, but Minho didn't let him pull away. The feel of the elder's constricting throat was just incredible. He looked up at the boy again, trying to plead him with wide eyes and a flushed face to let him break away. Minho grunted softly, loosening the grip on Jinki's hair.
"I'm sorry, Hyung," an apology was panted out as Jinki took deep ragged breaths, the back of his throat aching. "You don't have to-" he trailed off, his dick still hard and glistening with his Hyung's spit. Jinki pursed his lips- he truly didn't even know if he wanted to do this- but the sight of his childhood friend gasping for air above him, the feeling of his hot cock pushed back to his throat- though traumatizing and painful- had made him hard. Since when did he start wanting to do this? He felt more comfortable now, for some reason- the feeling of dread at his situation having melted into something more akin to nervousness. He blushed, scooting closer the other boy's hips to better position himself.
He actually... wanted to try again.
His stubby fingers wrapped around the long cock one by one, drawing out a long moan from Minho when he experimentally stroked up and down, marveling at the feel of the heat in his hands. Jinki gripped it tightly at the base, nudging it back into his mouth carefully.
"Jinki," The brunette breathed, surprised by the man's actions- and to some extent- eagerness.
Jinki wrapped his lips around the just the tip, and suddenly sucked, hard
. Judging by the moaning mess above him, he was doing something right, so he bobbed his head, pressing his tongue down to the underside of the cock in order for it to slide easier in his mouth. It still tasted funny, but he now decided he liked it better in his mouth, and even the bitter pre-cum wasn't as bad. It was sticky and slick and heavy in his mouth, and he got lost in the moment, trying out new things that seemed to bring even more sounds from the already loud student above him.
He wouldn't deny that this wasn't turning him on anymore, his erection straining in his pants and his thighs burning and tingling with a cold sweat that made him have the urge to hump something, as crude as that sounded. Before he knew it, his free hand popped off of taller boy's hip and slid down the inside of his thigh, fingers tracing his own bulge slightly. He moaned around the cock and took his mouth off of the whole of it to lick the erection up and down the sides with long, continuous strokes; his hot breath coming out in puffs. Minho's hips bucked forward, his hand sliding itself back into Jinki's hair in order to guide his lips back around the member, much gentler on his scalp this time.
Jinki tried to stuff as much as he could of it down his throat, but what he couldn't get he stroked with his hand, moving in tandem with each other.
"Fuck!" Minho cursed loudly, taken by surprise and suddenly exploding down Jinki's unsuspecting throat, throwing his head back and thrusting slightly. Jinki tried to swallow on reflex, but enough of the bitter, viscous liquid spilled out of his mouth to drip onto the dirty bathroom floor. Minho pulled his tender cock out of Jinki's mouth, leaning back onto the wall across from him in order to catch his breath.
That was something else.
Jinki kept his head down, all of the sudden ashamed at his actions. He felt a hand on his shoulder but refused to look up, even when he heard Minho's hoarse voice calling to him. Minho kneeled down in front of him, trying to get him to look at him.
"Hyung, look at me." Jinki didn't listen.
"Hyung, I'm glad you did this for me." Minho whispered into his ear, cupping his hands under Jinki's chin so he could look at him. At some point the older boy's glasses had fallen off, exposing even more of the pretty blush streaked across his cheeks. Minho kissed the boy's watery brown eyes, then pressed a chaste kiss on his abused lips, liking up the cum on his bottom lip before pulling away. "I'm also glad you enjoyed yourself so much." he nodded towards Jinki's crotch area, where there was a wet splotch on his uniform pants. Jinki quickly crossed his legs, hiding the view from the world. "We should do this again sometime." he winked, but the elder didn't see it, having buried his face in his hands cutely.
"Let me take you home after school, okay? So you know, don't have to walk."
Minho made his way out of the bathroom, leaving Jinki to his own devices before class began. He sighed, not sure what to make of everything that just happened, or the words that the taller boy had just said- or why they left butterflies in his stomach.
"Pay up." Minho groaned, placing a small wad of bills in his friend's hands. "See, I told you he would do it."
"Key, shut the fuck up." the feline man just grinned, brushing some blonde hair out of his eyes.
"Don't think I didn't hear your offer before you left. You adore him. Just be happy I pushed you to finally DO something. Geez."
"Key, I swear to god I'm going to punch you in the face."
"Just don't forget to take him out to dinner, lover boy- usually that comes before
the blowjob."A/N 2:
Why is Jinki such a slut
Title: Like a Dog (Cushions)
Genre: Drabble - Romance, Fluff
Summary: Minho and Jinki enjoy each other in the comfort of their bed after a long day.
A/N: So. Last night I was feeling really fluffy so I wrote this little drabble about Onho being all domestic and stuff- (which is where the title came from- because dogs-domestic- XD It made sense in my head, but don't worry about it. I'm rambling.) They're just cuddling in bed and it made me happy. ^_^ Sorry if it sucks, I wrote it at 2 in the morning.
"Are you coming to bed?"
Minho nodded, though he knew the elder couldn't see him. He checked himself over once more in his small bathroom mirror, turning his head this way and that in order to inspect every inch of his face. He had to admit, he could see his skin was a bit lack luster, and his eyes were showing a bit more than the usual under-eye puffiness, but he deemed it satisfactory for the night.
Casually he stepped out, almost forgetting to flick the harsh fluorescent bathroom light off before making his way to the bed where his lover awaited him, a book nestled in his lap. The man spared him a glance as he saw Minho approaching, his glasses sliding down ever so slightly and making half his vision blurry- but not deterring from the man's simplistic beauty.
Jinki found it times like these where he found Minho the most handsome. He was literally as simple as one could be, at his most comfortable in a thin, light grey cotton shirt that hung loosely but still clung to his best assets- pulled taunt over his shoulders and skimming his glorious abdominal muscles. Plain boxers followed suit, and Jinki had to wonder how he could feel so free to just sleep in his underwear and not sport some sort of bottom like his own plaid pajama pants. Nonetheless, he still looked so plainly perfect, barefoot with his hair a tousled mess, adding to the masculinity of the whole appeal.
The younger man climbed into bed, his long legs finding their way underneath the covers one after the other while Jinki put away the book he was reading, not bothering to turn off the bedside lamp. He found he rather liked the way that the room looked with only the lamp lights on; bathed in a warm yellow that contrasted nicely with the sharp shadows brought on by the natural darkness of the night. He turned over, adjusting himself snugly into the soft, warm blankets and comforters.
Minho found it absolutely adorable the way Jinki was half buried in the soft cushions, eyes lidded and breathing steadying. He reached over and grabbed the elder's hand, intertwining their fingers. He loved the way their hands fit together- his long, slender digits wrapping securely around Jinki's much shorter, thicker ones. He turned over as well, relishing in the smoothness in their silken sheets, and found himself face to face with his beloved.
Granted, Jinki was so far buried in his pillow Minho had to peek over the white cushion in order to actually see his face. He decided he much rather see Jinki buried in his chest rather than a pillow.
"Jagiya," He muttered lazily, his already deep voice booming with added depth and a certain thickness from his exhaustion. He used the leverage from their clasped hands to pull the smaller man towards him- through the warm comforter and into Minho's even warmer chest, which was another thing that Jinki loved about Minho right before bed.
He smelled so simply divine.
Jinki could honestly admit that this was his most favorite place to be; in their too-comfortable-and-soft-to-be-legal bed, all wrapped up in his dongsaeng's strong arms and pressed flush against his sturdy chest- senses being overloaded by his naturally musky scent. It was so wonderful, so complete- and it was pure fantasy that Jinki could live this every night.
He curled his unoccupied hand in Minho's soft short-sleeved shirt, pulling even closer so that their legs could imitate their hands and tangle together. Minho had to chuckle a bit when he heard Jinki's feet moving across the bedding sheets, knowing how much he loved the feeling of downy soft fabric against his toes and such. He called it soothing, and Minho couldn't really argue with that.
"Good night," he began; his words rumbling in his chest and making Jinki melt even more, nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck. Jinki mumbled a response that the younger could barely make out; his voice touched out from how sleepy he was, and even so it was so wonderfully light and slightly nasally and so perfectly Jinki. Minho's grip tightened.
"I love you." he continued while pressing a tender kiss to the crown of Jinki's head, falling victim to all the calming and relaxing feelings, to all his day had ended up to.
"I love you too." Jinki muttered more coherently- on the very edge of sleep.
As always, they fell asleep in each other's arms; wrapped up in the security of their bed- where it was just them two every night.