fic: Silence in a Storm -1/2-
Title: Silence in a Storm
Author: dria1029
Pairings: Onho
Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff (towards the end)
Warnings: scarytop!Jinki, rough Onho porn
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Minho let his insecurities hold him back, and Jinki responds in the only way he knows how.
a/n:-/sigh All these fic about revenge-I need help. Anyway, this is just an excerpt from a two-part Onho series I’d written (btw, the VERY first kpop/Shinee fic I’d written EVER.) with the first fic about Minho being Jinki’s awakener every morning. Reason for excerpt, you say? Well, because I’m still pretty embarrassed about it, seeing as it was my “debut” into the Shinee fanfic fandom. So of course you can’t read the rest T_T I won’t be able to show my face around these parts again, man
He remembered just yesterday how they’d passed each other in the hallway and Minho said his name.
“Yeah?”
“Hyung, you stepped on my foot.”
“Mhm..”
“It kinda hurts…”
“So? You want me to kiss it?
“No-
“You’re still alive aren’t you, then? Minho I don’t have time for this, I have things to do.”
But that old thing called fate had its way of tying up all loose ends, most times when we least expect it to. And it wasn’t about to make Minho and Onew an exception.
These things were never meant to last forever, and it is why fate steps a wise, firm foot in.
When Minho climbed out of the van, the barometric pressure that lingered in the air hit him hard. It was late afternoon and the sky still hadn’t cleared: Just dark grays, blacks and an eerie brightness that superstitious Manager Choi thought of as good luck. Funny, Minho felt just the opposite.
The tall boy resisted the urge to look over at his favorite hyung as he stroked the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder, sighed and headed inside. Onew turned slowly to watch Minho’s fading back. And just for a second, his hard look broke down.
Rehearsal went as usual. Well, usual for the past couple of weeks anyway. The managers were away chatting with SM executives and producers about the upcoming tour. The five boys had already caught up with a few of the TVQX members and were in the dance studio practicing the choreography to their new song. A song Onew had written and choreographed basically by himself in such a short amount of time.
He wanted no help. Weird because he would want to include everyone’s input any other time. Since when did he suddenly run the show solo?
And in every position they danced, Minho was made to be as far away from his leader as possible.
Of course he wanted to protest about it.
He almost did. Plenty of times.
But what good would it do? The others would look at him sideways. A concerned Key would pull him off to the side and ask if “it” came back-his late night soju chugging. His sudden interest in chicken. It had only taken 22 days for it to start happening and for Key to have intervened when he caught him on the kitchen floor about to pass out. Half eaten chicken and a few bottles on the shiny tile. Minho still didn’t know how the diva couldn’t have caught on yet, especially since it was strange how as soon as Onew stopped eating as much of his homemade fried chicken, Minho was now the one tearing it up like an animal.
This song. Ironically about how Onew couldn’t bear to separate from this girl he loves.
Minho didn’t know when he’d finally become numb to it. When he accepted that it was just a stupid song that they had to do a stupid dance to. Whatever, you know…
“Alright,” Onew huffed. He gestured over to Jjong, whom was closest to the table that held the stereo. “That’s enough, turn it off. It’s getting late and-
“And it’s time to eat! Hyung why do you keep making me do the spin over and over again? Yesterday you said I had it just right!”
“Taeminnie-ah, where was your mind? I was talking to Jonghyun the whole time yesterday.”
The younger boy tossed an incredulous look to the blonde. “B-but-
“You were tripping over your own feet the all the time, honey. You were in the front and Onew-hyung was walking around us. He was talking, but never walked to where you were is all, so you didn’t notice.”
“Yeah you didn’t notice. You were too busy perfecting the imperfect spin,” Jjong jeered. He flinched when Taemin’s umma went to smack him upside the head.
“Motherfucker, don’t be smug!”
Instead of Onew grinning and joining in with their antics like he always did, the leader walked up to them throwing a towel around his neck in a no-nonsense fashion. “Enough. Taemin, I will work with you this weekend on that spin. If I’m too busy then Jjong will take my place.” He looked over to see if the blonde made any indication of protest, then continued, looking pointedly at Minho this time. “Your timing was off on the second verse Minho-ah. Fix it by next week. Arasso?”
Peeved as he was, the taller boy merely nodded as if it were no big deal and went back to his stretching.
Onew hesitated at his response, then quickly strode away to the table for water. “I’ll catch up with the rest of you later.”
“But hyung, what about you? You didn’t even eat breakfast this morning.”
Their leader smiled tight-lipped against the cup. “I’ll be there Minnie. Save me some dragonfruit.”
“I’m staying too.”
Everyone whipped their heads in the athlete’s direction. Onew’s eyes had instinctively narrowed as the boy rose to his feet. They stayed like that even as Minho forced a smile on his lips, clapped his hands together with a rub and faced Jinki. “I need to work on my timing, remember?”
“Well that’s that then,” Key waved off, throwing his green strap over his shoulder. “Don’t overwork yourselves and make us have to come get you.” He checked his hair using one of the mirrored walls, crinkled his nose and left it be to head for the door. Jjong and Taemin quickly followed suit. Yet by the time Onew had come to his senses about what was about to happen, the boys has already filed out and let the door slam behind them. The sound echoed hollowly in the long rectangular room.
Minho was staring at him when he finally rotated. Onew gave him an equally straight face for a long time before he blinked and strode over to the table to press Play. They naturally assumed their positions.
For a while, the duo rehearsed in silence except for the music and the sound of their feet. Occasionally, when Minho would miss his cue, Onew would calmly go over and rewind. If Onew messed up, he cursed under his breath and went to rewind. If they both messed up, he’d just let it play on for some reason, murmuring about a new stereo that came with a remote.
Meanwhile, his partner was deep in thought. What to fucking do… Any other time when I try to talk to him, he doesn’t say much if anything at all. What could be different this time? Was this even a good idea? Maybe I should’ve left-
“Dammit,” he heard once again off to the side. Then, as if cuing Minho, a low grumble erupted from his leader’s stomach as the shorter member briskly went to rewind the CD again. When he was back, Minho set himself into position. In the middle of the first verse seemed to be the right time to go for it.
“You know, Taemin is right,” he puffed mid-slide. “I didn’t see you eat breakfast either. You should have gone to eat.”
No answer but heavy breathing.
The darker haired boy glanced at him before continuing.
“We still have some time left before the tour, hyung. You have this down better than we do.”
In the mirrored wall before them Minho saw Onew’s mouth tighten, yet he stayed silent as a grave.
“Please go eat. I promise by the time this day is out I’ll have this right.”
“Are you telling me what to do?” Onew mumbled coldly without looking at him. His hips swung a little bit too much to the more upbeat part of the song.
It was better than nothing. Minho sighed.
“No hyung. I’m just concerned. You really didn’t eat dinner last night either.”
“I wasn’t that hungry. And besides, I’m trying to cut back for this tour. Something we all are supposed to be doing.”
The younger seriously doubted that, for the fact that right now he knew Jjong, Key and Taemin were currently probably stuffing their faces along with the managers. Instead of saying that and risking Onew’s annoyance level to rise, he cleared his throat. “I know. I just don’t want you to take it too far. These past weeks-
“What?” Still, he didn’t look at him, whether through the mirror or facing him. “What? Am I too different for you now? When I actually do my job as this group’s leader, all of a sudden I need to be nannied?”
“Hyung its not like that.” Minho shook his head, heart thudding from the sarcasm. If only you knew how different you were now…
It was quiet between them again. Then Minho tried again to spark conversation. Yet each time it was the same. Between rewinding and rehearsing, the younger brought up something,-his leader replied short, angry, nonchalantly, or not at all-all the time never bothering to look at Minho, Onew would explode then, Minho would hush up, and the cycle would start all over again until finally, Onew’s eye began to twitch and he thundered so loud, Minho’s bones trembled.
“Aiish, would you just shut up, okay!?” His eyes burned into the taller boy’s through the mirror, as if he couldn’t resist anymore. He had stopped dancing and smoothed back some renegade strands of hair from his sweaty face. “No more from you, arasso? Pay attention to what you’re doing and leave me the hell alone.”
Yet that had never been Minho’s intention. No, not at all. And this was most certainly proven when, after standing there glaring at each other, Minho snapped. He was over to the stereo in seconds. Switched it off and turned to walk back. Onew could only glower at him wide eyed.
“What the hell Minho?”
“We need to talk.”
“Not interested.” He crossed his arms and was about to go over to turn the music back on when Minho grabbed his shoulder roughly, making the frustrated boy face him. Flames seemed to envelop his aura. “We need to talk,” he repeated more sternly.
A thick brow was quirked before Onew snatched away from him, obviously in “wtf” mode at his dongsaeng’s audacity. “No, we don’t,” he emphasized back in a harder tone. Well, as menacing as Minho thought his hyung’s voice could be. “And I thought you’d catch a hint the first several times I shot down your efforts to talk,” the older added in a grainy turbulence
“I really mean it hyung. Would you please give us five minutes? Just five-
“I can’t believe this-
“-is all I ask! What is wrong with you?!”
Instead of replying, Onew glared his hardest and made to get away from Minho again. “I’m leaving,” he seethed.
This time, the younger acted more quickly. Onew cried out in anger when he was suddenly seized by the collar of his tank top and jerked closer by the tips of his sneakers to the taller boy so that their foreheads bumped.
“Yah, what the hell is your problem?!”
“You really want to know?”
“Minho, let me go now-
“You’re my fucking problem alright!” Minho screamed, startling the leader so much he nearly bit the tongue that was about to command the livid boy some more. Yet the moment is short-lived when Onew snaps out of his stupor and furiously tears away from Minho’s hold, Onew Condition slightly taking over when he almost stumbles over his own feet in the process.
“What are you talking about?” he said coolly, straightening out his shirt. But that only fueled the fire; Jinki knew exactly what he was talking about. He nearly slammed himself even closer to Onew-face to face, chest to chest; fists balled to his sides as he spoke through his teeth. Fine, he’d humor him.
“I’m talking about how you’ve been treating me lately! I’m talking about your damn attitude these past weeks! Ever since that night you haven’t been yourself! What did I do to make you so fucking cold, huh? Did you not like it? Did you not want it? What? What did I do that was so wrong?”
Onew couldn’t move. His mouth popped open but then clamped shut.
“What was it, Onew?” Minho’s voice cracked. He didn’t even bother to blink back the heat. “I thought after that night you’d…you’d…well I didn’t expect for us to be together but I just thought something was there now. What happened? Did I hurt you? What, Jinki?”
As he searched his leader’s eyes with his now red ones, deep down he was glad that no one else saw the unwanted tears gathering in his eyes beside his hyung, even though they were at odds right then. He was supposed to be the strongest, the manliest of the group. He was the one cradling the rest when they cried…
His hands slackened, voice grew tiny.
“Say something…”
Onew looked away with a tilt of his head. His brows furrowed just as tightly as his lips did.
“Anything,” he whispered. “Look at me and say anything.”
Yet in Minho’s moment of weakness-when he went to put his hand on the elder boy’s cheek-Onew raised his hands in the limited space, brushing Minho’s abdomen before landing on his chest. He pushed away gently, as if reluctant. Firmly, as if to get a grip on his own self.
When more silence ensued, Minho couldn’t take it anymore. On abrupt impulse he pulled Onew back to him, this time by the waist. Hands roamed frantically as he mashed his lips onto Onew’s non-reciprocating ones.
“Do you want this again,” he hissed between taking breaths, not caring that his captive was trying to struggle away. “Do you want me to fuck you again, just like last time? Is that what it’s going to take?” Hand clutching his ass, he managed to thrust the older boy’s lower body into his own-before Onew’s fist cracked across his face.
The aroma of sweat, heat and sweet male left Minho as he staggered back holding his mouth.
The veins popped out in Onew’s now outstretched neck, that and his face now ripe red up to his ears. His bared teeth stood out, his incisors seemed to have sharpened all on their own. Either it was all in Minho’s imagination, or the 21 year-old was truly terrifying.
“Yah!” he screeched. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The ends of the taller boy’s hair curled. It wasn’t his imagination. Minho had never heard him use that word before. He’d never heard him sound like that…
“Don’t you ever touch me like that! Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again!”
His blood curdled even more. The sting of the punch was now a distant memory.
“Onew-
“No, shut up!” He was now the one striding up to Minho angrily and snatching him up to his feet. “You want to know what my problem is?”
Even at his angriest, he shouldn’t be like this…
“I’m stuck with having to deal with every. Fucking. Thing nowadays. I don’t get any help. I don’t get to laze around whenever I want, Minho-ahh. I’m always working, always taking care of you and Jonghyun and Kibum and Taemin. I have to be on top on EVERYTHING, even more now since we’ve become bigger. It’s only gotten more stressful since our debut. Want to know what my fucking problem is? I hate having to wake up in the morning so godforsaken early all the time. I hate not being able to see my parents, I HATE that they don’t really want me here.
What is he saying? Where did this come from…?
Onew jerked him closer to his face. “I hate that I’m lonely all the time! Sure I have you all, but what about a decent time out for me? With someone who really wants to be around me, someone who can stand me for 5 fucking seconds! I want to be able to walk around normally without falling on my fucking face all the time! I want to run the streets like an idiot! I want to end up somewhere I’ve never been. I want to drink myself stupid…just like you do.”
Minho’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, I know about that. Thought you could keep that from me, right? Please. In any case, I envy you for it. But I can’t stand you for it! Now, I have to worry even more about your wellbeing! Now, I have to worry about it getting out that you’ve turned into an alcoholic. Have you seen yourself lately? You look like hell!”
Speak for yourself. What about you? Hyung, what is this…?
“Want to make me happy? Then stop making things worse for me. Just stop.” He hesitated as he leaned closer to Minho’s ear, voice lowering. “You’re not going to make me go crazy…”
And for some reason, Minho sensed that last part had nothing to do with his sudden rant. In fact, it was the only thing that pertained to what the real problem was. Or, at least, the problem at hand.
What do you mean, you won’t let me make you go crazy?
The taller boy leaned back and peeled the now heaving Onew off of him. His voice seemed to freeze the air around them. “What.”
The leader only continued to glare at him, still breathing through his mouth.
“What…what is all-what the hell? Are you serious? Is this your way of trying to shake out of this? Really?”
I’ve already made you go crazy, you idiot. If there were no one else around, I would’ve made you go crazy all night long.
Minho narrowed his eyes and grabbed him again. “Yah! Do you know how I’ve felt because of you? I drink because of you! It was my first time too, remember? How could you treat me like this after I surrendered hiding my feelings for you? Who ARE you?”
Crazy? You’ve made ME go crazy. You’re making YOURSELF crazy now.
Onew curled his lip, about to retaliate when he felt the unmistakable bump through Minho’s sweats grazing him. At that, he growled out louder than he had intended-more so to tame his own arousal-and took Minho by the neck. One thought chanting in his mind over and over…
You used me
“What kind of question is that?”
“Touch me.”
Onew chuckled darkly, tightening his hold a bit. “So what do you call this I’m doing?”
“No.” Minho let him go, forcefully took the pale hand away from his throat and placed it on his own face. “Like this, Jinki. Touch me.”
The hand removed itself as if Minho’s skin were heated with a hot iron rod.
Yet the athlete grabbed it again, this time slapping it to his face. “Touch me.”
As soon as Onew flinched the tiniest muscle to more it again, frowning in defiance, Minho yelled as he took the shorter man by the shirt with both hands and shoved him several feet into one of the mirrored walls. A sickening thud sounded out just as the thunder outside rolled.
“Get off me!”
He was shoved back, but instead of hitting the parallel wall, Minho fell on his back to the floor, Onew falling on top of him. Above them the lights flickered. Wasting no time, Minho pushed him in an attempt to get on him, but Onew was faster; he forced all his weight on the younger boy and pinned his wrists down to the hardwood floor.
“Stop Minho! Stop now!”
The handsome-faced boy smirked.
“Make me.”
Onew’s eyes turned into dinner plates. With him caught off guard, Minho took that instant to roll him over with a husky breath and pin him down. “Make me, yeobo,” he mocked. “You’re the leader. Put me in my place.”
That did it. Rage boiled through Jinki’s blood, causing him to somehow knee and bite his dongsaeng at the same time. Before long the two were rolling back and forth on the floor yelling insults, punching each other, slinging, kicking, even body slamming. Far cry from how they tousled in Onew’s small bed in late January. The anger-dizzied Dubu went against everything about his nickname, at first yelling to Minho that he didn’t want to hurt him but soon not giving a shit about doing it. In turn, his opponent didn’t really want to fight, but found that his own usually concealed temper wasn’t making him let up. Had their mothers been around, lord have mercy on all the dishonor they’d bring to their families…
By the time Minho had Onew slammed and helmed back up on the cold mirror, they were a mess. There was barely any tank top left on any of them to grab; the shirts hung by shreds. Sweaty enough to fill a tub, hair either slicked down or sticking out in a random direction. Blood from Onew’s busted bottom lip, a bruise forming on Minho’s left cheek. Cuts on their arms and knuckles. The two very healthy boys were panting through outburst after outburst, neither one backing down. Onew forgetting he was older and should’ve been become the bigger person to stop and Minho forgetting ALL his discipline and mental training. Now they resorted to jacking each other up and flipping the other down the length of the mirrored wall. When Onew had the upper hand, he saw his incredulous expression in the reflection, asking Minho with raised brows ‘Who the hell do you think you are? I’m still your hyung, dammit’
Likewise, when Minho was boss, he saw his own lips in the glass- curled in a rebellious, smartass answer. ‘I don’t give a fuck, old man’
The shoving grew harder, so much that the glass cracked a bit when one of them was rammed into it. Still, the lights continued to flicker, the thunder crashing outside sometimes drowning out their shouting. Rain now flooded down in sheets. The wind howled. Lightning…
“Get a fucking grip, Minho!”
“Why? So you can make me out to be your bitch? Fuck that!”
“Watch your mouth-
“Or what, appa? What you gonna do? Hit me again?”
“I’m warning you Minho-ah, you’re really trying my patience! Calm down I said!”
“You calm down!”
Onew grunted as he hit the glass again. He blinked rapidly along with the lights.
“Prove to me that what I did wasn’t in vain! Prove to me that you want me just as much as I want you! Prove all this to me and I’ll stop; touch me!”
All the lights went out with the loudest crash of thunder yet. All lights, except for the one that flickered solely right above them.
Minho loosened his grip when his leader lifted his head. His body was suddenly a little weaker.
Monsters weren’t as frightening in nightmares. Dragons couldn’t be as menacing before they spat fire. The devil himself couldn’t have looked any worse.
The demon before him flared his nostrils and licked his swollen lips.
“You want me to touch you.”
That was the leader at his deepest, and the taller boy knew he’d probably never compare. Minho swallowed, completely letting go now.
Now, not so much…
“Answer me, Choi Minho. How badly do you want me to touch you?”
“Hyung-
“Answer me!”
But he didn’t wait for his answer. Unbeknownst to him, they had stopped right by the table that held their bags and the stereo. With little effort, Onew picked the lanky boy up by his waist and threw him on his back atop the rickety thing. Minho’s head spun from the collision. He heard CDs clatter to the floor. Felt the waistband of his sweats being yanked.
“You me to touch you? Fine. If it will shut you up.” Jinki's piecing gaze down at the younger boy stayed hard. “I’m going to fuck you so hard and you're going to beg me to stop before I even get all the way into it. We’ll see if you still want me to touch you then.”
A wave of something between fear and pleasure shimmied down Minho’s spine. Goosebumps dotted his skin as he was violently undressed and jolted around on the painful table. He couldn’t speak. His throat seemed to have closed up. It was now hard to breathe. He was aware of everything though he was somehow paralyzed; for one moment, however, his body had strengthened from that one burst of adrenaline, that instinct of preservation, and he’d reacted by scrambling off the table to make a dash for the door with his sweats to his knees. But he knew he was doomed when he was caught around the waist by two strong arms before he could put one foot in front of the other. “You’re not going anywhere Minho-ah.” His leader half rasped, half chuckled in his ear. He was tossed back on the table even more roughly this time. Onew teasingly slapped him, grabbed his chin and jerked Minho’s face to his own while he nestled himself tighter in between the boy’s legs.
“What’s the rush? How am I going to touch you if you leave before the party starts?”
And when the hand that held his chin suddenly pushed him back down so his head hit the table again, Minho went paraplegic again. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in pain-and want from how near the other man was, never mind how intimidating he was.
…Jinki…
Jinki making his ‘promises’. Jinki snatching his boxers and sweats all the way off in disgust. Jinki madly tugging his own bottoms off with one hand while the other gripped Minho’s ankle with vice; when the other took his second ankle, Minho really felt he couldn’t breathe when he pushed his legs back whilst spreading them to the furthest degree. Jinki working overtime…
The possessed boy bit back his lips in satisfaction once he had them both exposed- he made the younger member stutter out a groan when his warm hips pressed up against his sex.
“Like that baby?”
Minho tried to nod, but found he could barely lift his head.
“The you're gonna love this,” he snarled.
Minho screamed when Onew thrust into him with no warning; in turn his invader jeering him with an even louder yell. No preparation. No compassion. He vaguely thought of how unfair it was compared to how he handled the older boy before-vaguely, since all he could mostly concentrate on was being stretched to death by the well-endowed boy in question. This man.
Immediately he tried to slide away from the burning pain, up till his lower back was practically against the cool mirror. One hand gripped the edge of the table for dear life while the other balled up and banged the table as Onew straightaway went to pounding into him wildly. It was if he were more than ignoring the other male’s extreme discomfort. His hiccupping, unnatural shrieking, gritting teeth and arching. No…it was like he enjoyed it.
Nails broke into the skin of Minho’s ankles, causing them to numb a bit. Still, Onew thrust repeatedly with nary a break. All the time glaring down at him-lips parted in pleasured groans. Animalistic desire. Even if Minho’s eyes weren’t clamped shut, he wouldn’t have been able to see the darkened, dilated pupils of the leader through the fresh batch of tears clouding his vision.
Onew’s smirk went to the side. Slowly he was losing himself…
I said I wouldn’t let you make me go crazy, yet here we are. I’m a whole new crazy you can’t escape.
He licked at his bloody lip before picking up the pace, making Minho cry out even harder and scratch into the paneling of the cheap table.
This new Lee Jinki-the one rarely seen, well, if one were tuned in to what had transpired before in the dorm-would know that intertwined with that hateful glare was a pinch of vengefulness. A pinch of it.
You used me, you used me, you used me.
Faster. The pounding roughens. The weather worsens outside. Now the table hits up against the glass wall as if to intentionally break it. Virgin blood among other fluids drip silently to the floor, down Minho’s buttocks. Lightly spatters the area beneath Jinki’s navel.
Now I’m using you, you bastard.
But this is what Minho wanted, right? Wasn’t this what he was asking for….more or less? Why should the boy’s cries of pain concern him? Shouldn’t he reaps what he sows? While dopy, kind Dubu pleaded in the back of his head, new Onew continued to be indifferent, frowning in distracted pleasure as he slapped up into his “bitch” even deeper. This puppy was going to learn his place. With a beastly grunt, he loosed one of his death holds on the athlete’s ankle and went to clutch the back of Minho’s upper thigh so he could steady him more on the rocking table. His hips pumped in on point now, so precisely deep that for a trickle, Minho’s moans turned to ones of bliss. Onew heard the difference, not sure at first if he liked this. Then he bit his lip with all front teeth, surrendering a smile.
“Beg me, beautiful boy.”
His thrusts slowed down. Nope, that didn’t feel good. He wasn’t hitting the spot anymore.
“Please Jinki-ssi.”
“Like you mean it.”
“Please.”
“Mmmmmm.”
“Please, it hurts.”
“Mhmmmm.”
Minho lifted his head just a bit to look into his demon’s eyes. Under the one light (much like a spotlight for their “show”) Onew was a sexy, devilish sight between his legs. Suddenly he felt like a whore-and didn’t care if that’s what he had to be.
“Please fuck me hyung. Please f-fuck me…”
The older boy gave a raspy laugh. “Good job.”
The pounding continued in intensity, reducing Minho to long, pause free moans one after another; he began to harden even more. In the midst of that, Jinki had quit his labored breathing and fell upon the boy, pulling him up by his hair as he yelped; into a hard kiss. A sloppy display of nothing but teeth and tongue-again nothing like the sweet teasing back in January. Then just as quickly he snatched away and pulled up; it was then Minho dared to lean his neck up, so he could see what he saw before.
Slits for eyes glowered down at him…even though it seemed like he was looking straight through him. Curses emitted from his thick lips…but sounded like he was speaking in tongues. Yet what had Minho spellbound was the way the older man’s abs pulsed with each thrust; he could see every oily inch of him through the large rips in his white tank top. Between the subsiding pain and the exceeding throbbing in his chest, he realized that the weeks of obsessive training had turned Onew into a hulking machine- even more defined than himself. Nothing was really feminine about his Dubu anymore-much to his disappointment or delight, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t tear away from the hardened expression that emphasized Jinki’s jaw line; almost gone were those chubby cheeks. The boy’s moving Adam’s apple, his biceps and forearms that were slicked with sweat. Honey complexion that was coming back since winter was about over. His dark nipples hard and tempting…
Remembering being inside him, though, and now relishing the favor being returned, however different it was: The thought alone made Minho whimper.
“That little bit of begging almost hurts my feelings. Louder, Minho-ah.”
He did it louder, earning a small, sadistic laugh. Did whores tremble from things like that? Did it turn them on? Did having a growing addiction to heathenistic snarls and pain make him a freak? Was the fact that although Onew was becoming rougher with him-with no intention of calming down anytime soon- only made the sex feel even better by the minute?
Did his fear of new Jinki constitute even more attraction?
Before he could begin to answer his own floating questions, his haunted lover had flipped him over on his stomach and guided his legs open from eager, pressing hips; his own were taken as much as Onew could grab, nails digging. Minho whispered ‘yes’ when he was filled again, his palms now flat on the table. His manhood pressed up on the scratchy table, yet he not minding. Lip bleeding from bracing himself for Onew’s entry, yet he didn’t care about that either. And why should he? Now he is forced to see them joined together in the mirrored wall. Himself drowsy, red eyed and teary, face twisted in ecstasy. Onew chewing the hell out of his lip with the body of a Greek god….and staring dead at him. With the image of them moving together like that branded in his mind, why should he care?
“Don’t you fucking look away,” he growls between his strokes and groans. And Minho doesn’t.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Minutes later he is picked up and smashed up on the freezing glass, his head over the older guy’s shoulder and his hands grasping onto the slippery back. That special spot of his being hit until he felt that his thighs would be weak forever- he could barely keep his legs tied around Jinki’s constantly moving hips. He guessed as long as Onew was this other person, the older could just keeping going and going…going and going….deeper, with more deliberate strokes
Before he knew what was happening, Minho was flipped around so that his face was introduced to the mirror. Going and going…
It all began to blur then. The thunder, the soothing sound of pelting rain. The last thing he remembered before cumming against the glass and feeling the swell of liquid warmth up inside his own body was his leader’s hurt, angry eyes staring at him in the mirror. Staring as he pounded into him mercilessly…then sweetly. Staring-as the older boy gradually came back to himself. The hands on his that were on the mirror became warmer; the stubby fingers curled into his perfectly. And the sigh…
Maybe he sighed with him. It did sound as one…
He went slack.
Darkness…
Next
Author: dria1029
Pairings: Onho
Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff (towards the end)
Warnings: scarytop!Jinki, rough Onho porn
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Minho let his insecurities hold him back, and Jinki responds in the only way he knows how.
a/n:-/sigh All these fic about revenge-I need help. Anyway, this is just an excerpt from a two-part Onho series I’d written (btw, the VERY first kpop/Shinee fic I’d written EVER.) with the first fic about Minho being Jinki’s awakener every morning. Reason for excerpt, you say? Well, because I’m still pretty embarrassed about it, seeing as it was my “debut” into the Shinee fanfic fandom. So of course you can’t read the rest T_T I won’t be able to show my face around these parts again, man
He remembered just yesterday how they’d passed each other in the hallway and Minho said his name.
“Yeah?”
“Hyung, you stepped on my foot.”
“Mhm..”
“It kinda hurts…”
“So? You want me to kiss it?
“No-
“You’re still alive aren’t you, then? Minho I don’t have time for this, I have things to do.”
But that old thing called fate had its way of tying up all loose ends, most times when we least expect it to. And it wasn’t about to make Minho and Onew an exception.
These things were never meant to last forever, and it is why fate steps a wise, firm foot in.
When Minho climbed out of the van, the barometric pressure that lingered in the air hit him hard. It was late afternoon and the sky still hadn’t cleared: Just dark grays, blacks and an eerie brightness that superstitious Manager Choi thought of as good luck. Funny, Minho felt just the opposite.
The tall boy resisted the urge to look over at his favorite hyung as he stroked the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder, sighed and headed inside. Onew turned slowly to watch Minho’s fading back. And just for a second, his hard look broke down.
Rehearsal went as usual. Well, usual for the past couple of weeks anyway. The managers were away chatting with SM executives and producers about the upcoming tour. The five boys had already caught up with a few of the TVQX members and were in the dance studio practicing the choreography to their new song. A song Onew had written and choreographed basically by himself in such a short amount of time.
He wanted no help. Weird because he would want to include everyone’s input any other time. Since when did he suddenly run the show solo?
And in every position they danced, Minho was made to be as far away from his leader as possible.
Of course he wanted to protest about it.
He almost did. Plenty of times.
But what good would it do? The others would look at him sideways. A concerned Key would pull him off to the side and ask if “it” came back-his late night soju chugging. His sudden interest in chicken. It had only taken 22 days for it to start happening and for Key to have intervened when he caught him on the kitchen floor about to pass out. Half eaten chicken and a few bottles on the shiny tile. Minho still didn’t know how the diva couldn’t have caught on yet, especially since it was strange how as soon as Onew stopped eating as much of his homemade fried chicken, Minho was now the one tearing it up like an animal.
This song. Ironically about how Onew couldn’t bear to separate from this girl he loves.
Minho didn’t know when he’d finally become numb to it. When he accepted that it was just a stupid song that they had to do a stupid dance to. Whatever, you know…
“Alright,” Onew huffed. He gestured over to Jjong, whom was closest to the table that held the stereo. “That’s enough, turn it off. It’s getting late and-
“And it’s time to eat! Hyung why do you keep making me do the spin over and over again? Yesterday you said I had it just right!”
“Taeminnie-ah, where was your mind? I was talking to Jonghyun the whole time yesterday.”
The younger boy tossed an incredulous look to the blonde. “B-but-
“You were tripping over your own feet the all the time, honey. You were in the front and Onew-hyung was walking around us. He was talking, but never walked to where you were is all, so you didn’t notice.”
“Yeah you didn’t notice. You were too busy perfecting the imperfect spin,” Jjong jeered. He flinched when Taemin’s umma went to smack him upside the head.
“Motherfucker, don’t be smug!”
Instead of Onew grinning and joining in with their antics like he always did, the leader walked up to them throwing a towel around his neck in a no-nonsense fashion. “Enough. Taemin, I will work with you this weekend on that spin. If I’m too busy then Jjong will take my place.” He looked over to see if the blonde made any indication of protest, then continued, looking pointedly at Minho this time. “Your timing was off on the second verse Minho-ah. Fix it by next week. Arasso?”
Peeved as he was, the taller boy merely nodded as if it were no big deal and went back to his stretching.
Onew hesitated at his response, then quickly strode away to the table for water. “I’ll catch up with the rest of you later.”
“But hyung, what about you? You didn’t even eat breakfast this morning.”
Their leader smiled tight-lipped against the cup. “I’ll be there Minnie. Save me some dragonfruit.”
“I’m staying too.”
Everyone whipped their heads in the athlete’s direction. Onew’s eyes had instinctively narrowed as the boy rose to his feet. They stayed like that even as Minho forced a smile on his lips, clapped his hands together with a rub and faced Jinki. “I need to work on my timing, remember?”
“Well that’s that then,” Key waved off, throwing his green strap over his shoulder. “Don’t overwork yourselves and make us have to come get you.” He checked his hair using one of the mirrored walls, crinkled his nose and left it be to head for the door. Jjong and Taemin quickly followed suit. Yet by the time Onew had come to his senses about what was about to happen, the boys has already filed out and let the door slam behind them. The sound echoed hollowly in the long rectangular room.
Minho was staring at him when he finally rotated. Onew gave him an equally straight face for a long time before he blinked and strode over to the table to press Play. They naturally assumed their positions.
For a while, the duo rehearsed in silence except for the music and the sound of their feet. Occasionally, when Minho would miss his cue, Onew would calmly go over and rewind. If Onew messed up, he cursed under his breath and went to rewind. If they both messed up, he’d just let it play on for some reason, murmuring about a new stereo that came with a remote.
Meanwhile, his partner was deep in thought. What to fucking do… Any other time when I try to talk to him, he doesn’t say much if anything at all. What could be different this time? Was this even a good idea? Maybe I should’ve left-
“Dammit,” he heard once again off to the side. Then, as if cuing Minho, a low grumble erupted from his leader’s stomach as the shorter member briskly went to rewind the CD again. When he was back, Minho set himself into position. In the middle of the first verse seemed to be the right time to go for it.
“You know, Taemin is right,” he puffed mid-slide. “I didn’t see you eat breakfast either. You should have gone to eat.”
No answer but heavy breathing.
The darker haired boy glanced at him before continuing.
“We still have some time left before the tour, hyung. You have this down better than we do.”
In the mirrored wall before them Minho saw Onew’s mouth tighten, yet he stayed silent as a grave.
“Please go eat. I promise by the time this day is out I’ll have this right.”
“Are you telling me what to do?” Onew mumbled coldly without looking at him. His hips swung a little bit too much to the more upbeat part of the song.
It was better than nothing. Minho sighed.
“No hyung. I’m just concerned. You really didn’t eat dinner last night either.”
“I wasn’t that hungry. And besides, I’m trying to cut back for this tour. Something we all are supposed to be doing.”
The younger seriously doubted that, for the fact that right now he knew Jjong, Key and Taemin were currently probably stuffing their faces along with the managers. Instead of saying that and risking Onew’s annoyance level to rise, he cleared his throat. “I know. I just don’t want you to take it too far. These past weeks-
“What?” Still, he didn’t look at him, whether through the mirror or facing him. “What? Am I too different for you now? When I actually do my job as this group’s leader, all of a sudden I need to be nannied?”
“Hyung its not like that.” Minho shook his head, heart thudding from the sarcasm. If only you knew how different you were now…
It was quiet between them again. Then Minho tried again to spark conversation. Yet each time it was the same. Between rewinding and rehearsing, the younger brought up something,-his leader replied short, angry, nonchalantly, or not at all-all the time never bothering to look at Minho, Onew would explode then, Minho would hush up, and the cycle would start all over again until finally, Onew’s eye began to twitch and he thundered so loud, Minho’s bones trembled.
“Aiish, would you just shut up, okay!?” His eyes burned into the taller boy’s through the mirror, as if he couldn’t resist anymore. He had stopped dancing and smoothed back some renegade strands of hair from his sweaty face. “No more from you, arasso? Pay attention to what you’re doing and leave me the hell alone.”
Yet that had never been Minho’s intention. No, not at all. And this was most certainly proven when, after standing there glaring at each other, Minho snapped. He was over to the stereo in seconds. Switched it off and turned to walk back. Onew could only glower at him wide eyed.
“What the hell Minho?”
“We need to talk.”
“Not interested.” He crossed his arms and was about to go over to turn the music back on when Minho grabbed his shoulder roughly, making the frustrated boy face him. Flames seemed to envelop his aura. “We need to talk,” he repeated more sternly.
A thick brow was quirked before Onew snatched away from him, obviously in “wtf” mode at his dongsaeng’s audacity. “No, we don’t,” he emphasized back in a harder tone. Well, as menacing as Minho thought his hyung’s voice could be. “And I thought you’d catch a hint the first several times I shot down your efforts to talk,” the older added in a grainy turbulence
“I really mean it hyung. Would you please give us five minutes? Just five-
“I can’t believe this-
“-is all I ask! What is wrong with you?!”
Instead of replying, Onew glared his hardest and made to get away from Minho again. “I’m leaving,” he seethed.
This time, the younger acted more quickly. Onew cried out in anger when he was suddenly seized by the collar of his tank top and jerked closer by the tips of his sneakers to the taller boy so that their foreheads bumped.
“Yah, what the hell is your problem?!”
“You really want to know?”
“Minho, let me go now-
“You’re my fucking problem alright!” Minho screamed, startling the leader so much he nearly bit the tongue that was about to command the livid boy some more. Yet the moment is short-lived when Onew snaps out of his stupor and furiously tears away from Minho’s hold, Onew Condition slightly taking over when he almost stumbles over his own feet in the process.
“What are you talking about?” he said coolly, straightening out his shirt. But that only fueled the fire; Jinki knew exactly what he was talking about. He nearly slammed himself even closer to Onew-face to face, chest to chest; fists balled to his sides as he spoke through his teeth. Fine, he’d humor him.
“I’m talking about how you’ve been treating me lately! I’m talking about your damn attitude these past weeks! Ever since that night you haven’t been yourself! What did I do to make you so fucking cold, huh? Did you not like it? Did you not want it? What? What did I do that was so wrong?”
Onew couldn’t move. His mouth popped open but then clamped shut.
“What was it, Onew?” Minho’s voice cracked. He didn’t even bother to blink back the heat. “I thought after that night you’d…you’d…well I didn’t expect for us to be together but I just thought something was there now. What happened? Did I hurt you? What, Jinki?”
As he searched his leader’s eyes with his now red ones, deep down he was glad that no one else saw the unwanted tears gathering in his eyes beside his hyung, even though they were at odds right then. He was supposed to be the strongest, the manliest of the group. He was the one cradling the rest when they cried…
His hands slackened, voice grew tiny.
“Say something…”
Onew looked away with a tilt of his head. His brows furrowed just as tightly as his lips did.
“Anything,” he whispered. “Look at me and say anything.”
Yet in Minho’s moment of weakness-when he went to put his hand on the elder boy’s cheek-Onew raised his hands in the limited space, brushing Minho’s abdomen before landing on his chest. He pushed away gently, as if reluctant. Firmly, as if to get a grip on his own self.
When more silence ensued, Minho couldn’t take it anymore. On abrupt impulse he pulled Onew back to him, this time by the waist. Hands roamed frantically as he mashed his lips onto Onew’s non-reciprocating ones.
“Do you want this again,” he hissed between taking breaths, not caring that his captive was trying to struggle away. “Do you want me to fuck you again, just like last time? Is that what it’s going to take?” Hand clutching his ass, he managed to thrust the older boy’s lower body into his own-before Onew’s fist cracked across his face.
The aroma of sweat, heat and sweet male left Minho as he staggered back holding his mouth.
The veins popped out in Onew’s now outstretched neck, that and his face now ripe red up to his ears. His bared teeth stood out, his incisors seemed to have sharpened all on their own. Either it was all in Minho’s imagination, or the 21 year-old was truly terrifying.
“Yah!” he screeched. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The ends of the taller boy’s hair curled. It wasn’t his imagination. Minho had never heard him use that word before. He’d never heard him sound like that…
“Don’t you ever touch me like that! Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again!”
His blood curdled even more. The sting of the punch was now a distant memory.
“Onew-
“No, shut up!” He was now the one striding up to Minho angrily and snatching him up to his feet. “You want to know what my problem is?”
Even at his angriest, he shouldn’t be like this…
“I’m stuck with having to deal with every. Fucking. Thing nowadays. I don’t get any help. I don’t get to laze around whenever I want, Minho-ahh. I’m always working, always taking care of you and Jonghyun and Kibum and Taemin. I have to be on top on EVERYTHING, even more now since we’ve become bigger. It’s only gotten more stressful since our debut. Want to know what my fucking problem is? I hate having to wake up in the morning so godforsaken early all the time. I hate not being able to see my parents, I HATE that they don’t really want me here.
What is he saying? Where did this come from…?
Onew jerked him closer to his face. “I hate that I’m lonely all the time! Sure I have you all, but what about a decent time out for me? With someone who really wants to be around me, someone who can stand me for 5 fucking seconds! I want to be able to walk around normally without falling on my fucking face all the time! I want to run the streets like an idiot! I want to end up somewhere I’ve never been. I want to drink myself stupid…just like you do.”
Minho’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, I know about that. Thought you could keep that from me, right? Please. In any case, I envy you for it. But I can’t stand you for it! Now, I have to worry even more about your wellbeing! Now, I have to worry about it getting out that you’ve turned into an alcoholic. Have you seen yourself lately? You look like hell!”
Speak for yourself. What about you? Hyung, what is this…?
“Want to make me happy? Then stop making things worse for me. Just stop.” He hesitated as he leaned closer to Minho’s ear, voice lowering. “You’re not going to make me go crazy…”
And for some reason, Minho sensed that last part had nothing to do with his sudden rant. In fact, it was the only thing that pertained to what the real problem was. Or, at least, the problem at hand.
What do you mean, you won’t let me make you go crazy?
The taller boy leaned back and peeled the now heaving Onew off of him. His voice seemed to freeze the air around them. “What.”
The leader only continued to glare at him, still breathing through his mouth.
“What…what is all-what the hell? Are you serious? Is this your way of trying to shake out of this? Really?”
I’ve already made you go crazy, you idiot. If there were no one else around, I would’ve made you go crazy all night long.
Minho narrowed his eyes and grabbed him again. “Yah! Do you know how I’ve felt because of you? I drink because of you! It was my first time too, remember? How could you treat me like this after I surrendered hiding my feelings for you? Who ARE you?”
Crazy? You’ve made ME go crazy. You’re making YOURSELF crazy now.
Onew curled his lip, about to retaliate when he felt the unmistakable bump through Minho’s sweats grazing him. At that, he growled out louder than he had intended-more so to tame his own arousal-and took Minho by the neck. One thought chanting in his mind over and over…
You used me
“What kind of question is that?”
“Touch me.”
Onew chuckled darkly, tightening his hold a bit. “So what do you call this I’m doing?”
“No.” Minho let him go, forcefully took the pale hand away from his throat and placed it on his own face. “Like this, Jinki. Touch me.”
The hand removed itself as if Minho’s skin were heated with a hot iron rod.
Yet the athlete grabbed it again, this time slapping it to his face. “Touch me.”
As soon as Onew flinched the tiniest muscle to more it again, frowning in defiance, Minho yelled as he took the shorter man by the shirt with both hands and shoved him several feet into one of the mirrored walls. A sickening thud sounded out just as the thunder outside rolled.
“Get off me!”
He was shoved back, but instead of hitting the parallel wall, Minho fell on his back to the floor, Onew falling on top of him. Above them the lights flickered. Wasting no time, Minho pushed him in an attempt to get on him, but Onew was faster; he forced all his weight on the younger boy and pinned his wrists down to the hardwood floor.
“Stop Minho! Stop now!”
The handsome-faced boy smirked.
“Make me.”
Onew’s eyes turned into dinner plates. With him caught off guard, Minho took that instant to roll him over with a husky breath and pin him down. “Make me, yeobo,” he mocked. “You’re the leader. Put me in my place.”
That did it. Rage boiled through Jinki’s blood, causing him to somehow knee and bite his dongsaeng at the same time. Before long the two were rolling back and forth on the floor yelling insults, punching each other, slinging, kicking, even body slamming. Far cry from how they tousled in Onew’s small bed in late January. The anger-dizzied Dubu went against everything about his nickname, at first yelling to Minho that he didn’t want to hurt him but soon not giving a shit about doing it. In turn, his opponent didn’t really want to fight, but found that his own usually concealed temper wasn’t making him let up. Had their mothers been around, lord have mercy on all the dishonor they’d bring to their families…
By the time Minho had Onew slammed and helmed back up on the cold mirror, they were a mess. There was barely any tank top left on any of them to grab; the shirts hung by shreds. Sweaty enough to fill a tub, hair either slicked down or sticking out in a random direction. Blood from Onew’s busted bottom lip, a bruise forming on Minho’s left cheek. Cuts on their arms and knuckles. The two very healthy boys were panting through outburst after outburst, neither one backing down. Onew forgetting he was older and should’ve been become the bigger person to stop and Minho forgetting ALL his discipline and mental training. Now they resorted to jacking each other up and flipping the other down the length of the mirrored wall. When Onew had the upper hand, he saw his incredulous expression in the reflection, asking Minho with raised brows ‘Who the hell do you think you are? I’m still your hyung, dammit’
Likewise, when Minho was boss, he saw his own lips in the glass- curled in a rebellious, smartass answer. ‘I don’t give a fuck, old man’
The shoving grew harder, so much that the glass cracked a bit when one of them was rammed into it. Still, the lights continued to flicker, the thunder crashing outside sometimes drowning out their shouting. Rain now flooded down in sheets. The wind howled. Lightning…
“Get a fucking grip, Minho!”
“Why? So you can make me out to be your bitch? Fuck that!”
“Watch your mouth-
“Or what, appa? What you gonna do? Hit me again?”
“I’m warning you Minho-ah, you’re really trying my patience! Calm down I said!”
“You calm down!”
Onew grunted as he hit the glass again. He blinked rapidly along with the lights.
“Prove to me that what I did wasn’t in vain! Prove to me that you want me just as much as I want you! Prove all this to me and I’ll stop; touch me!”
All the lights went out with the loudest crash of thunder yet. All lights, except for the one that flickered solely right above them.
Minho loosened his grip when his leader lifted his head. His body was suddenly a little weaker.
Monsters weren’t as frightening in nightmares. Dragons couldn’t be as menacing before they spat fire. The devil himself couldn’t have looked any worse.
The demon before him flared his nostrils and licked his swollen lips.
“You want me to touch you.”
That was the leader at his deepest, and the taller boy knew he’d probably never compare. Minho swallowed, completely letting go now.
Now, not so much…
“Answer me, Choi Minho. How badly do you want me to touch you?”
“Hyung-
“Answer me!”
But he didn’t wait for his answer. Unbeknownst to him, they had stopped right by the table that held their bags and the stereo. With little effort, Onew picked the lanky boy up by his waist and threw him on his back atop the rickety thing. Minho’s head spun from the collision. He heard CDs clatter to the floor. Felt the waistband of his sweats being yanked.
“You me to touch you? Fine. If it will shut you up.” Jinki's piecing gaze down at the younger boy stayed hard. “I’m going to fuck you so hard and you're going to beg me to stop before I even get all the way into it. We’ll see if you still want me to touch you then.”
A wave of something between fear and pleasure shimmied down Minho’s spine. Goosebumps dotted his skin as he was violently undressed and jolted around on the painful table. He couldn’t speak. His throat seemed to have closed up. It was now hard to breathe. He was aware of everything though he was somehow paralyzed; for one moment, however, his body had strengthened from that one burst of adrenaline, that instinct of preservation, and he’d reacted by scrambling off the table to make a dash for the door with his sweats to his knees. But he knew he was doomed when he was caught around the waist by two strong arms before he could put one foot in front of the other. “You’re not going anywhere Minho-ah.” His leader half rasped, half chuckled in his ear. He was tossed back on the table even more roughly this time. Onew teasingly slapped him, grabbed his chin and jerked Minho’s face to his own while he nestled himself tighter in between the boy’s legs.
“What’s the rush? How am I going to touch you if you leave before the party starts?”
And when the hand that held his chin suddenly pushed him back down so his head hit the table again, Minho went paraplegic again. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in pain-and want from how near the other man was, never mind how intimidating he was.
…Jinki…
Jinki making his ‘promises’. Jinki snatching his boxers and sweats all the way off in disgust. Jinki madly tugging his own bottoms off with one hand while the other gripped Minho’s ankle with vice; when the other took his second ankle, Minho really felt he couldn’t breathe when he pushed his legs back whilst spreading them to the furthest degree. Jinki working overtime…
The possessed boy bit back his lips in satisfaction once he had them both exposed- he made the younger member stutter out a groan when his warm hips pressed up against his sex.
“Like that baby?”
Minho tried to nod, but found he could barely lift his head.
“The you're gonna love this,” he snarled.
Minho screamed when Onew thrust into him with no warning; in turn his invader jeering him with an even louder yell. No preparation. No compassion. He vaguely thought of how unfair it was compared to how he handled the older boy before-vaguely, since all he could mostly concentrate on was being stretched to death by the well-endowed boy in question. This man.
Immediately he tried to slide away from the burning pain, up till his lower back was practically against the cool mirror. One hand gripped the edge of the table for dear life while the other balled up and banged the table as Onew straightaway went to pounding into him wildly. It was if he were more than ignoring the other male’s extreme discomfort. His hiccupping, unnatural shrieking, gritting teeth and arching. No…it was like he enjoyed it.
Nails broke into the skin of Minho’s ankles, causing them to numb a bit. Still, Onew thrust repeatedly with nary a break. All the time glaring down at him-lips parted in pleasured groans. Animalistic desire. Even if Minho’s eyes weren’t clamped shut, he wouldn’t have been able to see the darkened, dilated pupils of the leader through the fresh batch of tears clouding his vision.
Onew’s smirk went to the side. Slowly he was losing himself…
I said I wouldn’t let you make me go crazy, yet here we are. I’m a whole new crazy you can’t escape.
He licked at his bloody lip before picking up the pace, making Minho cry out even harder and scratch into the paneling of the cheap table.
This new Lee Jinki-the one rarely seen, well, if one were tuned in to what had transpired before in the dorm-would know that intertwined with that hateful glare was a pinch of vengefulness. A pinch of it.
You used me, you used me, you used me.
Faster. The pounding roughens. The weather worsens outside. Now the table hits up against the glass wall as if to intentionally break it. Virgin blood among other fluids drip silently to the floor, down Minho’s buttocks. Lightly spatters the area beneath Jinki’s navel.
Now I’m using you, you bastard.
But this is what Minho wanted, right? Wasn’t this what he was asking for….more or less? Why should the boy’s cries of pain concern him? Shouldn’t he reaps what he sows? While dopy, kind Dubu pleaded in the back of his head, new Onew continued to be indifferent, frowning in distracted pleasure as he slapped up into his “bitch” even deeper. This puppy was going to learn his place. With a beastly grunt, he loosed one of his death holds on the athlete’s ankle and went to clutch the back of Minho’s upper thigh so he could steady him more on the rocking table. His hips pumped in on point now, so precisely deep that for a trickle, Minho’s moans turned to ones of bliss. Onew heard the difference, not sure at first if he liked this. Then he bit his lip with all front teeth, surrendering a smile.
“Beg me, beautiful boy.”
His thrusts slowed down. Nope, that didn’t feel good. He wasn’t hitting the spot anymore.
“Please Jinki-ssi.”
“Like you mean it.”
“Please.”
“Mmmmmm.”
“Please, it hurts.”
“Mhmmmm.”
Minho lifted his head just a bit to look into his demon’s eyes. Under the one light (much like a spotlight for their “show”) Onew was a sexy, devilish sight between his legs. Suddenly he felt like a whore-and didn’t care if that’s what he had to be.
“Please fuck me hyung. Please f-fuck me…”
The older boy gave a raspy laugh. “Good job.”
The pounding continued in intensity, reducing Minho to long, pause free moans one after another; he began to harden even more. In the midst of that, Jinki had quit his labored breathing and fell upon the boy, pulling him up by his hair as he yelped; into a hard kiss. A sloppy display of nothing but teeth and tongue-again nothing like the sweet teasing back in January. Then just as quickly he snatched away and pulled up; it was then Minho dared to lean his neck up, so he could see what he saw before.
Slits for eyes glowered down at him…even though it seemed like he was looking straight through him. Curses emitted from his thick lips…but sounded like he was speaking in tongues. Yet what had Minho spellbound was the way the older man’s abs pulsed with each thrust; he could see every oily inch of him through the large rips in his white tank top. Between the subsiding pain and the exceeding throbbing in his chest, he realized that the weeks of obsessive training had turned Onew into a hulking machine- even more defined than himself. Nothing was really feminine about his Dubu anymore-much to his disappointment or delight, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t tear away from the hardened expression that emphasized Jinki’s jaw line; almost gone were those chubby cheeks. The boy’s moving Adam’s apple, his biceps and forearms that were slicked with sweat. Honey complexion that was coming back since winter was about over. His dark nipples hard and tempting…
Remembering being inside him, though, and now relishing the favor being returned, however different it was: The thought alone made Minho whimper.
“That little bit of begging almost hurts my feelings. Louder, Minho-ah.”
He did it louder, earning a small, sadistic laugh. Did whores tremble from things like that? Did it turn them on? Did having a growing addiction to heathenistic snarls and pain make him a freak? Was the fact that although Onew was becoming rougher with him-with no intention of calming down anytime soon- only made the sex feel even better by the minute?
Did his fear of new Jinki constitute even more attraction?
Before he could begin to answer his own floating questions, his haunted lover had flipped him over on his stomach and guided his legs open from eager, pressing hips; his own were taken as much as Onew could grab, nails digging. Minho whispered ‘yes’ when he was filled again, his palms now flat on the table. His manhood pressed up on the scratchy table, yet he not minding. Lip bleeding from bracing himself for Onew’s entry, yet he didn’t care about that either. And why should he? Now he is forced to see them joined together in the mirrored wall. Himself drowsy, red eyed and teary, face twisted in ecstasy. Onew chewing the hell out of his lip with the body of a Greek god….and staring dead at him. With the image of them moving together like that branded in his mind, why should he care?
“Don’t you fucking look away,” he growls between his strokes and groans. And Minho doesn’t.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Minutes later he is picked up and smashed up on the freezing glass, his head over the older guy’s shoulder and his hands grasping onto the slippery back. That special spot of his being hit until he felt that his thighs would be weak forever- he could barely keep his legs tied around Jinki’s constantly moving hips. He guessed as long as Onew was this other person, the older could just keeping going and going…going and going….deeper, with more deliberate strokes
Before he knew what was happening, Minho was flipped around so that his face was introduced to the mirror. Going and going…
It all began to blur then. The thunder, the soothing sound of pelting rain. The last thing he remembered before cumming against the glass and feeling the swell of liquid warmth up inside his own body was his leader’s hurt, angry eyes staring at him in the mirror. Staring as he pounded into him mercilessly…then sweetly. Staring-as the older boy gradually came back to himself. The hands on his that were on the mirror became warmer; the stubby fingers curled into his perfectly. And the sigh…
Maybe he sighed with him. It did sound as one…
He went slack.
Darkness…
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