Panthera pardus
Panthera pardus
jongdae/zitao
pg-13; 1,500 words
Jongdae knows Zitao better than most people think. He knows Zitao likes wearing leopard print, picking it out from a pile a clothing handed to him by the stylists before looking at more stylish jackets or shirts. The pattern adds a fierce power to Zitao's movements.
Even when he smiles sweetly at the new makeup artist or cries over a scary story, Jongdae senses that underlying control Zitao exhibits while he performs wushu to a crowd or just showing off in the practice room, but when Zitao wears the outrageous leopard print it's a reminder that he isn't to be underestimated. It's there in the light but confident steps he takes and hides in the dark when he curls around Jongdae on the couch in the dorm, watching the new drama Zitao's become obsessed with in the past week. That's Jongdae's favorite time to spend with Zitao, studying him in the dark, the only light from the bright flashing television.
"Jongdae," Zitao whispers, poking him in the side, "you're supposed to translate for me."
"Oh." Jongdae shifts, tearing his eyes away from the low neck leopard print tee Zitao chose to wear and stares at the couple fighting on the screen. "Um, she's angry he had dinner with another woman."
Zitao rolls his eyes. "I know that. But what is she saying?"
He bites the side of his thumb, thinking of how to simplify it to Zitao's level of Korean.
Yifan snorts from the opposite end of the couch, suppressing a laugh, and waves Zitao over to him. "Come here. I can translate better than him. I don't know why you chose to sit near Jongdae, his Mandarin is worst than your Korean."
He can hear the joking in Yifan's voice, light and cheerful, and he opens his mouth to remind Yifan of his dismal Korean. But then he spots Zitao's cheeks turning red and Jongdae suddenly doesn't know whom the teasing was aimed at.
"Shut up, duizhang. I don't want to sit next to your ugly face," Zitao finally throws back, no malice behind the words, and sinks his head back against Jongdae's shoulder. He's heavy on Jongdae's smaller frame but he's also warm and the hand splayed out on his back rubs small circles into his skin through his shirt, the fruity, rich smell of Zitao's shampoo penetrating his nose.
"Is something wrong?" he says into Zitao's ear when he begins picking at the blanket spread out over their laps, instead of focused solely on the drama like Zitao normally does. Zitao's eyes appear like they're firmly glued to the television but Jongdae witnesses Zitao's little glances around the room, flickering from person to person. Easily distracted is a phrase he'd readily use to describe Zitao but not during something he was interested in and he's been focused attention with anything to do with learning Korean in the past months, particularly if Jongdae was helping him in exchange for help during Mandarin studies.
"No, it's fine," he sighs and then stretches out like a cat bathing in the sun, deliberately kicking Yifan. "I just tired." Zitao follows it with a faked yawn. Jongdae knows it's a fake, he's heard Zitao's quiet, suppressed yawns when he's exhausted and prepared for sleep and this yawn is loud and noticeable for everyone to hear. "I'm going to bed."
Zitao stands up, the blanket falling off his lap, and exits the room, walking past Minseok and Luhan. They stare at his back, questioningly.
"I thought he wanted to watch this episode?" Luhan inquires, blinking his eyes and looking around the room baffled.
"He did," Jongdae gapes at where Zitao just left, the light in the bathroom flooding the hallway."I thought he said this one. I'll go talk to him." He drags his body standing up, one leg half asleep and fuzzy, and follows Zitao's path, tripping over Yixing lounging with a pillow on the floor.
The door to the bathroom is open and the bright light temporarily blinds Jongdae until his eyes focus on Zitao. He stands at the sink, toothbrush in his mouth, white foam on the corners of his lips, and hums a song while bumping his hips to the beat in his head. Jongdae watches, amused and a smile on his face, leaning against the door.
"Hi," Jongdae chokes out when Zitao notices him.
"Hi," Zitao echoes back, laughing at Jongdae's loss of words, and grins around the toothbrush. "What do you want?"
"Why'd you leave? You asked to watch that." The smile disappears and Jongdae instantly misses it, the way his face lights up when he's elated and not attempting to conceal it.
Zitao huffs and spits out the toothpaste. "I wanted to watch it with you."
"And we were before you left," Jongdae agrees, nodding his head, still confused.
"Just you. No one else," Zitao continues and reaches for a cup to rinse his mouth out with.
'Why would he want to watch it alone? What was wrong with the others being there?' He thinks before it hits him square in the chest. Zitao likes him. It explains the feeble attempts of flirting jokes and elbow jabs into the stomach Zitao gives him. He remembers the grin Zitao provided him with before interviews, or when they pulled a prank on Yifan and he yelled at them for messing with his face cleansers, or the one paired with a hand rubbing his neck while memorizing unfamiliar phrases. Jongdae lets out a small gasp and looks away from Zitao's face, eyeing the tacky decorations on the tile wall.
"Is that a problem?" Zitao ask, sounding hurt.
"No," he replies quickly. "No, no problem. I just- You like me?"
"Yes. I don't know why if you're this dumb," Zitao mutters and lifts the cup of water to his mouth, whishing it around and spiting it out.
"Hey! I'm older than you, brat." He exclaims, smiling and lightly punching Zitao's shoulder.
Zitao punches him back, hitting a spot below his collarbone, and then his fingertips trails down Jongdae's chest to fall at the curve of his hip. They both stop breathing for a second, air taken right from their lungs. Zitao moves first, fingers dancing to move inside Jongdae's shirt, pulling him closer until there's barely any space between them. Looking straight at Zitao's face, Jongdae can see darker brown flecks in his eyes and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His breath hitches as Zitao leans in closer, the fresh mint smell from the toothpaste he used escaping from Zitao's mouth.
"Hi," he squawks out.
"Hi," Zitao teases, slipping his arm more confidently around Jongdae's waist, dragging him in nearer until there's no space left. "Is this okay?"
Jongdae feels the muscles tightening in Zitao's arm and the sensual roll of his hips as he sways in place and nods, speechless. A second passes and Zitao doesn't move, only studies Jongdae and he feels like he's under examination, cheeks growing red and his confidence more daring. He jerks Zitao down with a hand to back of his neck, fingers twisting in his hair, and their lips meet, Zitao kissing him hungrily. It's amazing and Jongdae opens his mouth in a moan, surprising himself and Zitao. He melts against Jongdae, knees bending to level the angle of their kissing, and teases his tongue inside. Jongdae pulls away, Zitao's lips chasing after him, drawn to Jongdae and his kisses, and he looks at Zitao, his eyes still closed and then fluttering open, blinking at Jongdae.
"We're kissing in a bathroom," Jongdae chokes out in disbelief.
Zitao giggles, head resting on Jongdae shoulder. "Yes, do you have any problems with that?"
Jongdae lightly pushes him away. "Keep being a brat and I'm pouring bleach on your clothing," he threatens, enjoying Zitao's nervous look.
"You wouldn't!" Zitao pouts.
"No, it's too noticeable and damaging. I'll lock you outside a hotel room again."
"Or you could kiss me?" He suggest, slinking in close, eyes heavy with suggestive hints.
"Or I could steal your towel while you're in the shower," Jongdae throws back.
"Oh, maybe you should join me in the shower so you don't steal it then." At Jongdae's raised eyebrow, Zitao closes the bathroom door with his foot and grabs the edges of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
"I like that shirt on you." Zitao frowns, eyeing it, and throws it to the ground. "The leopard print," Jongdae simply adds. Zitao grins again and pulls him in for another kiss.
Jongdae knows Zitao. He knows how Zitao taste after eating watermelon, wet with a sticky sweetness, he knows the bored sigh he gives and the foot tap that goes along with it. And most importantly, he knows leopard print suits Zitao, he sees the playful, kitty-like smile turn into a predatory grin before their lips touched and he hears the soft purring sound Zitao makes when stroked just right. Yes, he knows if Zitao were any animal, he would be a leopard.
--
points to whoever knows which interview inspired this
jongdae/zitao
pg-13; 1,500 words
Jongdae knows Zitao better than most people think. He knows Zitao likes wearing leopard print, picking it out from a pile a clothing handed to him by the stylists before looking at more stylish jackets or shirts. The pattern adds a fierce power to Zitao's movements.
Even when he smiles sweetly at the new makeup artist or cries over a scary story, Jongdae senses that underlying control Zitao exhibits while he performs wushu to a crowd or just showing off in the practice room, but when Zitao wears the outrageous leopard print it's a reminder that he isn't to be underestimated. It's there in the light but confident steps he takes and hides in the dark when he curls around Jongdae on the couch in the dorm, watching the new drama Zitao's become obsessed with in the past week. That's Jongdae's favorite time to spend with Zitao, studying him in the dark, the only light from the bright flashing television.
"Jongdae," Zitao whispers, poking him in the side, "you're supposed to translate for me."
"Oh." Jongdae shifts, tearing his eyes away from the low neck leopard print tee Zitao chose to wear and stares at the couple fighting on the screen. "Um, she's angry he had dinner with another woman."
Zitao rolls his eyes. "I know that. But what is she saying?"
He bites the side of his thumb, thinking of how to simplify it to Zitao's level of Korean.
Yifan snorts from the opposite end of the couch, suppressing a laugh, and waves Zitao over to him. "Come here. I can translate better than him. I don't know why you chose to sit near Jongdae, his Mandarin is worst than your Korean."
He can hear the joking in Yifan's voice, light and cheerful, and he opens his mouth to remind Yifan of his dismal Korean. But then he spots Zitao's cheeks turning red and Jongdae suddenly doesn't know whom the teasing was aimed at.
"Shut up, duizhang. I don't want to sit next to your ugly face," Zitao finally throws back, no malice behind the words, and sinks his head back against Jongdae's shoulder. He's heavy on Jongdae's smaller frame but he's also warm and the hand splayed out on his back rubs small circles into his skin through his shirt, the fruity, rich smell of Zitao's shampoo penetrating his nose.
"Is something wrong?" he says into Zitao's ear when he begins picking at the blanket spread out over their laps, instead of focused solely on the drama like Zitao normally does. Zitao's eyes appear like they're firmly glued to the television but Jongdae witnesses Zitao's little glances around the room, flickering from person to person. Easily distracted is a phrase he'd readily use to describe Zitao but not during something he was interested in and he's been focused attention with anything to do with learning Korean in the past months, particularly if Jongdae was helping him in exchange for help during Mandarin studies.
"No, it's fine," he sighs and then stretches out like a cat bathing in the sun, deliberately kicking Yifan. "I just tired." Zitao follows it with a faked yawn. Jongdae knows it's a fake, he's heard Zitao's quiet, suppressed yawns when he's exhausted and prepared for sleep and this yawn is loud and noticeable for everyone to hear. "I'm going to bed."
Zitao stands up, the blanket falling off his lap, and exits the room, walking past Minseok and Luhan. They stare at his back, questioningly.
"I thought he wanted to watch this episode?" Luhan inquires, blinking his eyes and looking around the room baffled.
"He did," Jongdae gapes at where Zitao just left, the light in the bathroom flooding the hallway."I thought he said this one. I'll go talk to him." He drags his body standing up, one leg half asleep and fuzzy, and follows Zitao's path, tripping over Yixing lounging with a pillow on the floor.
The door to the bathroom is open and the bright light temporarily blinds Jongdae until his eyes focus on Zitao. He stands at the sink, toothbrush in his mouth, white foam on the corners of his lips, and hums a song while bumping his hips to the beat in his head. Jongdae watches, amused and a smile on his face, leaning against the door.
"Hi," Jongdae chokes out when Zitao notices him.
"Hi," Zitao echoes back, laughing at Jongdae's loss of words, and grins around the toothbrush. "What do you want?"
"Why'd you leave? You asked to watch that." The smile disappears and Jongdae instantly misses it, the way his face lights up when he's elated and not attempting to conceal it.
Zitao huffs and spits out the toothpaste. "I wanted to watch it with you."
"And we were before you left," Jongdae agrees, nodding his head, still confused.
"Just you. No one else," Zitao continues and reaches for a cup to rinse his mouth out with.
'Why would he want to watch it alone? What was wrong with the others being there?' He thinks before it hits him square in the chest. Zitao likes him. It explains the feeble attempts of flirting jokes and elbow jabs into the stomach Zitao gives him. He remembers the grin Zitao provided him with before interviews, or when they pulled a prank on Yifan and he yelled at them for messing with his face cleansers, or the one paired with a hand rubbing his neck while memorizing unfamiliar phrases. Jongdae lets out a small gasp and looks away from Zitao's face, eyeing the tacky decorations on the tile wall.
"Is that a problem?" Zitao ask, sounding hurt.
"No," he replies quickly. "No, no problem. I just- You like me?"
"Yes. I don't know why if you're this dumb," Zitao mutters and lifts the cup of water to his mouth, whishing it around and spiting it out.
"Hey! I'm older than you, brat." He exclaims, smiling and lightly punching Zitao's shoulder.
Zitao punches him back, hitting a spot below his collarbone, and then his fingertips trails down Jongdae's chest to fall at the curve of his hip. They both stop breathing for a second, air taken right from their lungs. Zitao moves first, fingers dancing to move inside Jongdae's shirt, pulling him closer until there's barely any space between them. Looking straight at Zitao's face, Jongdae can see darker brown flecks in his eyes and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His breath hitches as Zitao leans in closer, the fresh mint smell from the toothpaste he used escaping from Zitao's mouth.
"Hi," he squawks out.
"Hi," Zitao teases, slipping his arm more confidently around Jongdae's waist, dragging him in nearer until there's no space left. "Is this okay?"
Jongdae feels the muscles tightening in Zitao's arm and the sensual roll of his hips as he sways in place and nods, speechless. A second passes and Zitao doesn't move, only studies Jongdae and he feels like he's under examination, cheeks growing red and his confidence more daring. He jerks Zitao down with a hand to back of his neck, fingers twisting in his hair, and their lips meet, Zitao kissing him hungrily. It's amazing and Jongdae opens his mouth in a moan, surprising himself and Zitao. He melts against Jongdae, knees bending to level the angle of their kissing, and teases his tongue inside. Jongdae pulls away, Zitao's lips chasing after him, drawn to Jongdae and his kisses, and he looks at Zitao, his eyes still closed and then fluttering open, blinking at Jongdae.
"We're kissing in a bathroom," Jongdae chokes out in disbelief.
Zitao giggles, head resting on Jongdae shoulder. "Yes, do you have any problems with that?"
Jongdae lightly pushes him away. "Keep being a brat and I'm pouring bleach on your clothing," he threatens, enjoying Zitao's nervous look.
"You wouldn't!" Zitao pouts.
"No, it's too noticeable and damaging. I'll lock you outside a hotel room again."
"Or you could kiss me?" He suggest, slinking in close, eyes heavy with suggestive hints.
"Or I could steal your towel while you're in the shower," Jongdae throws back.
"Oh, maybe you should join me in the shower so you don't steal it then." At Jongdae's raised eyebrow, Zitao closes the bathroom door with his foot and grabs the edges of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
"I like that shirt on you." Zitao frowns, eyeing it, and throws it to the ground. "The leopard print," Jongdae simply adds. Zitao grins again and pulls him in for another kiss.
Jongdae knows Zitao. He knows how Zitao taste after eating watermelon, wet with a sticky sweetness, he knows the bored sigh he gives and the foot tap that goes along with it. And most importantly, he knows leopard print suits Zitao, he sees the playful, kitty-like smile turn into a predatory grin before their lips touched and he hears the soft purring sound Zitao makes when stroked just right. Yes, he knows if Zitao were any animal, he would be a leopard.
--
points to whoever knows which interview inspired this