Of Simplicity and Normalcy
Title: Of Simplicity and Normalcy
Fandom: ss501
Pairing: Kyujong/Hyunjoong
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kyujong misses Hyunjoong, but Hyunjoong can't concentrate.
A/N: I blame truecoloured and her gif spam.
A/N 2: This is a day later than planned forgive me as, I came down with a 24 hour fever bug thing.
Kyujong isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Hyunjoong doesn’t see it that way though. Maybe it’s because of how long it’s been, or maybe its just because it’s Kyujong. Kyujong in general tends to make his body feel rabid.
Hyunjoong shakes his head because, what the fuck, Kyujong is doing nothing out of the usual. He is simply sitting on the desk, casually talking to him while he’s getting a shirt, that’s all.
Hyunjoong can’t help it though, because suddenly Kyujong has never looked more appealing. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight streaks across his face in lines due to the window blinds or something.
“Hyunjoong... Hyunjoong, are you listening?” Kyujong asks, mocking impatience mixed with a tinge of anger.
“Hmm?” Hyunjoong replies, and if he is being honest with himself, he really wasn’t. He’d been to distracted by the way the sunlight hit his brown hair and tinted it red.
“Hyunjoong,” Kyujong said again, starting to become annoyed with the his slightly disoriented and distracted demeanor. Hyunjoong, not knowing what else to do, simply walked over, fingers tapping on both of his knees nervously before he parted the other’s legs.
“I’m sorry baby, repeat it one more time, for me please?” Hyunjoong whispers, resting his head against Kyujong’s shoulders.
Kyujong sighs and repeats his tirade about schedules and how he feels lonely, how the sheets are cold when Hyunjoong’s out gallivanting the fucking country at absurd hours, when he should be sleeping (or playing with him).
Hyunjoong nods absently, twirling the ends of Kyujong’s hair, the ones curling around the nape of his neck. Kyujong suppresses a shiver. “I’m sorry,” Hyunjoong whispers, the material of Kyujong’s shirt falling off his shoulder. Hyunjoong places his lips there, against velvet, creamy skin and sucks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he trails his lips, warm and moist against an even hotter neck. Kyujong groans and Hyunjoong knows he’s been forgiven. His hands slide up over his thighs before cupping his ass gently, lifting Kyujong up and onto the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, kissing his lips with tender passion, fueled deep within his core. Kyujong mumbles his appreciation, gasping as the leg Hyungjoon placed between his thighs presses against him, his knee coming in contact with Kyujong’s crotch.
The lightest touch drives Kyujong insane. It brings Hyunjoong the greatest pleasure to watch him scrunch his eyes up in ecstasy.
“I’m sorry,” he says again; this time the statement holds a different sentiment, as if to say he’s sorry for teasing, but not really. His knee presses again, and Kyujong’s back arches and his hips grind down. Hyunjoong watches, watches the sweat collect under Kyujong’s bangs, watches his hips press down.
He’s sure it creates glorious friction. He presses his knee against the boys undulating hips, reveling in the gasp it brings forth from kiss bruised lips.
Hyunjoong strokes back sticky strands of hair from his face, moaning as Kyujong’s hands run down his back, one trembles as it reaches for the button on his jeans. Hyunjoong wriggles out of them, let’s them hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. He brings his hands down to Kyujong’s waist band and pulls his pajama’s down. Hyunjoong marvelled at just how long Kyujong’s legs were. He placed a kiss on his hip bone as Kyujong fished out the lube from under the mattress.
He presses it into Hyunjoong’s hands desperately. “Hyunjoong please,” his demand is more like a breathless whisper, one that Hyunjoong can’t refuse.
The only sound that Hyunjoong hears as he preps Kyujong, albeit a little sloppy, is the sound of their harsh breathing, the sound of his heart beating in his ears and his name falling wantonly from Kyujong’s lips.
Kyujong inhales a shaky breath, shudders and wraps his leg around Hyunjoong’s waist as the other enters him.
It’s been so long, but it feels so right, and Kyujong hasn’t felt complete since the last time backstage at that one show.
“Hyunjoong,” he murmurs. Hyunjoong marvels at how Kyujong’s head tips back, hair spilling over the pillowcase, at the light sheen of sweat collecting at his neck.
He fucks him slow, unlike their usual rendezvous that are fast and hurried. He wants to make Kyujong’s toes curls, wants to show him how he feels by making him feel. He knows Kyujong hates it, hates the slow thrusts that brush his spot and make him see stars every time. He hates how Hyunjoong can make him a quivering mess begging for some kind of friction at all. Hyunjoong won’t placate him though, not when he loves the way Kyujong’s mouth opens in surprise every time Hyunjoong is deathly accurate. He can’t, because Kyujong says his name just so, just the right way to make his own blood boil beneath his skin.
Kyujong hates him for taking his time, but loves him for caring enough about him to make love, not sex. When Kyujong ejaculates between them, a moan of indecipherable vowels tumble from his lips and throws Hyunjoong into the throes of climax.
“I’m sorry,” Hyunjoong whispers, spooning behind him with his hand on his hip.
“You’re forgiven,” Kyujong mumbles as he falls into a doze. Hyunjoong smiles because he knew Kyujong would forgive. he always did, and probably always would. Hyunjoong just hoped he could understand why he had to leave.
Fandom: ss501
Pairing: Kyujong/Hyunjoong
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kyujong misses Hyunjoong, but Hyunjoong can't concentrate.
A/N: I blame truecoloured and her gif spam.
A/N 2: This is a day later than planned forgive me as, I came down with a 24 hour fever bug thing.
Kyujong isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Hyunjoong doesn’t see it that way though. Maybe it’s because of how long it’s been, or maybe its just because it’s Kyujong. Kyujong in general tends to make his body feel rabid.
Hyunjoong shakes his head because, what the fuck, Kyujong is doing nothing out of the usual. He is simply sitting on the desk, casually talking to him while he’s getting a shirt, that’s all.
Hyunjoong can’t help it though, because suddenly Kyujong has never looked more appealing. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight streaks across his face in lines due to the window blinds or something.
“Hyunjoong... Hyunjoong, are you listening?” Kyujong asks, mocking impatience mixed with a tinge of anger.
“Hmm?” Hyunjoong replies, and if he is being honest with himself, he really wasn’t. He’d been to distracted by the way the sunlight hit his brown hair and tinted it red.
“Hyunjoong,” Kyujong said again, starting to become annoyed with the his slightly disoriented and distracted demeanor. Hyunjoong, not knowing what else to do, simply walked over, fingers tapping on both of his knees nervously before he parted the other’s legs.
“I’m sorry baby, repeat it one more time, for me please?” Hyunjoong whispers, resting his head against Kyujong’s shoulders.
Kyujong sighs and repeats his tirade about schedules and how he feels lonely, how the sheets are cold when Hyunjoong’s out gallivanting the fucking country at absurd hours, when he should be sleeping (or playing with him).
Hyunjoong nods absently, twirling the ends of Kyujong’s hair, the ones curling around the nape of his neck. Kyujong suppresses a shiver. “I’m sorry,” Hyunjoong whispers, the material of Kyujong’s shirt falling off his shoulder. Hyunjoong places his lips there, against velvet, creamy skin and sucks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he trails his lips, warm and moist against an even hotter neck. Kyujong groans and Hyunjoong knows he’s been forgiven. His hands slide up over his thighs before cupping his ass gently, lifting Kyujong up and onto the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, kissing his lips with tender passion, fueled deep within his core. Kyujong mumbles his appreciation, gasping as the leg Hyungjoon placed between his thighs presses against him, his knee coming in contact with Kyujong’s crotch.
The lightest touch drives Kyujong insane. It brings Hyunjoong the greatest pleasure to watch him scrunch his eyes up in ecstasy.
“I’m sorry,” he says again; this time the statement holds a different sentiment, as if to say he’s sorry for teasing, but not really. His knee presses again, and Kyujong’s back arches and his hips grind down. Hyunjoong watches, watches the sweat collect under Kyujong’s bangs, watches his hips press down.
He’s sure it creates glorious friction. He presses his knee against the boys undulating hips, reveling in the gasp it brings forth from kiss bruised lips.
Hyunjoong strokes back sticky strands of hair from his face, moaning as Kyujong’s hands run down his back, one trembles as it reaches for the button on his jeans. Hyunjoong wriggles out of them, let’s them hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. He brings his hands down to Kyujong’s waist band and pulls his pajama’s down. Hyunjoong marvelled at just how long Kyujong’s legs were. He placed a kiss on his hip bone as Kyujong fished out the lube from under the mattress.
He presses it into Hyunjoong’s hands desperately. “Hyunjoong please,” his demand is more like a breathless whisper, one that Hyunjoong can’t refuse.
The only sound that Hyunjoong hears as he preps Kyujong, albeit a little sloppy, is the sound of their harsh breathing, the sound of his heart beating in his ears and his name falling wantonly from Kyujong’s lips.
Kyujong inhales a shaky breath, shudders and wraps his leg around Hyunjoong’s waist as the other enters him.
It’s been so long, but it feels so right, and Kyujong hasn’t felt complete since the last time backstage at that one show.
“Hyunjoong,” he murmurs. Hyunjoong marvels at how Kyujong’s head tips back, hair spilling over the pillowcase, at the light sheen of sweat collecting at his neck.
He fucks him slow, unlike their usual rendezvous that are fast and hurried. He wants to make Kyujong’s toes curls, wants to show him how he feels by making him feel. He knows Kyujong hates it, hates the slow thrusts that brush his spot and make him see stars every time. He hates how Hyunjoong can make him a quivering mess begging for some kind of friction at all. Hyunjoong won’t placate him though, not when he loves the way Kyujong’s mouth opens in surprise every time Hyunjoong is deathly accurate. He can’t, because Kyujong says his name just so, just the right way to make his own blood boil beneath his skin.
Kyujong hates him for taking his time, but loves him for caring enough about him to make love, not sex. When Kyujong ejaculates between them, a moan of indecipherable vowels tumble from his lips and throws Hyunjoong into the throes of climax.
“I’m sorry,” Hyunjoong whispers, spooning behind him with his hand on his hip.
“You’re forgiven,” Kyujong mumbles as he falls into a doze. Hyunjoong smiles because he knew Kyujong would forgive. he always did, and probably always would. Hyunjoong just hoped he could understand why he had to leave.