Shades of You
Title: Shades of You
Characters: Donghae/Kyuhyun
Author: elliebear128 (formerly elmersglue128)
Rating: R (sexuality, language)
Length: one-shot
Words: 3,507
Requested: by serenesea, prompt below (posted in the KyuHae FanFic Comm Request Meme)
Summary: Kyuhyun sees the world in black and white only, and he's deeply troubled, but Donghae thinks Kyuhyun is special.
Kyuhyun didn’t know for years that the world looked any different, life is always a little dull.
His elementary teachers all said he was “special” but, really, they meant retarded; what kind of kid didn’t know how to draw a yellow sun and green grass? He was too proud to tell them he doesn’t understand.
He couldn’t see the difference between all the stupid crayons in the box. They all looked like shades of darker and lighter blacks next to the one white one. He didn’t understand why the other kids always snickered at him but he hated it, hated the attention and hated the awful feeling at the pit of his stomach like there’s something totally fucked-up with him.
--
“So you live in this big place all alone?” Donghae asks curiously, poking his head in for the first look before he finally steps the rest of the way inside the penthouse apartment.
“Since I was 17,” Kyuhyun answers with an indifferent shrug, “I’ve always preferred independence, my parents agreed with me.”
Donghae smiles in playful admiration, “Child prodigy, so I have a genius in my midst.”
“Most people are just dumbasses. That’s how I make money, from the idiots. And I’m filthy rich too, so much that I don’t even know how much even,” Kyuhyun replies sarcastically clipped and slightly incensed, unintentional, but he hates those words.
“Money only brings trouble, you know. I can tell you’re trouble already,” Donghae responds teasingly, undeterred by the sudden cold attitude.
Kyuhyun scoffs, decidedly amused again as he leans his back against the kitchen counter, “I’m completely harmless.”
“So is this why you invited me here? Because you’re totally harmless?” Donghae asks with a joking grin.
His smile is pretty, is a spark of light even when mischievous. Kyuhyun melts a little, just a tiny bit whenever it’s directed his way. But of course he doesn’t show it at all because he’s calm, collected, and cool.
Instead of answering, Kyuhyun shrugs again and grabs him by the hand, warm and soft and fits immediately against his own, before tugging him to towards a closed door, “This is the bedroom.”
Donghae lets out an impressed oh, taking in the luxurious shades of black furniture as refined and stylish as the rest of the place, “This looks like it came out of a catalog, a freaking high-end one.”
“Probably, the interior decorator showed me pictures of what she was going to do,” Kyuhyun answers with another shrug as he automatically takes a seat on the bed, palms flattened out to support himself as he leans back in appreciative observance of the other gawping at everything around him.
Donghae’s hands are still clinging onto his messenger bag hanging from his shoulder more out of edgy habit than anything, turning his attention back to the way Kyuhyun is just silently watching makes him all butterflies and nervousness.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick,” Donghae utters and basically dashes behind the door the other points at with a wry grin.
With a click, he’s alone enough to let out his held breath and stare more closely at his anxious expression in the mirror. Donghae has no idea why he’s even here, being picked up by strangers even this one he’s been ogling from afar for weeks is not something he ever agrees to despite the offers. He believes in soul mates and romance and making love, not one-night stands or booty calls.
Momentarily distracted, he grabs the cologne bottle from the counter and takes an inquisitive sniff (because he’s been utterly crazy about Kyuhyun’s scent). But he can’t smell anything, scrunching his nose up in concentration as he tries harder and ends up spraying it all over himself. When he glances up into the mirror, he jerks in surprise at Kyuhyun’s reflection leaned against a now open door looking back at him.
Donghae has a guilty expression on his face, guilt wrapped alluringly in pure innocence. Easily, Kyuhyun can detect his own everyday cologne all over the other’s skin and neck. It’s so erotic the way Donghae smells just like him as if they’ve been so close and flush against each other that his scent has thoroughly permeated over.
Kyuhyun wants it all to himself, wants a taste of it so badly he bites on his lower lip to contain himself.
“You look like you just did something bad,” Kyuhyun remarks lightly, arms crossed across his chest.
Donghae shakes his head in questionable denial, instantly trying to make his way back out only to be stopped by an extended arm in his path.
Like playing a game of chicken, they both stay glued to each other’s gazes as they inch in closer.
--
Numbers make complete sense to Kyuhyun, they don’t deceive him in any way. From being the stupid child, just like that he became the math prodigy. Nothing is easier for him to solve than equations and numeric problems, all he needed to do was use common sense and simple (well, at least to him) logic.
On the outside, he’s smug and confident but inside he’s so relieved that he could cry. In fact he did in the privacy of his own dark room with shameful dry-heave sobs, letting his heavy tears spill out with his dirty insecurities. Just maybe he’s not as broken or messed-up as he secretly grew to believe.
Kyuhyun’s clothes are black, even when he grows out of his rebellious teenage emo stage and his reclusive-hermit-in-the-dark-cave-of-his-room period. It’s just easier that way without fussing with things he can’t see.
As an adult, black is slick and sexy and sophisticated on him. Guys fucking love it, the paleness of his skin in comparison to the fabric of his clothes right before they become discarded items on the bedroom floor.
--
“Eyelash,” Donghae murmurs, gentle like an airy breeze, as his fingers touch the younger man’s cheek and his thumb makes a swiping motion, “Make a wish.”
The staring contest ends.
Kyuhyun doesn’t answer him, doesn’t bother to acknowledge the childish request but rather, is intent on his immediate desire to do…other things. His head dips down, capturing those lips against his own and their mouths are effortlessly pliant against each other’s as the bit of distance between them evaporates instantly.
Donghae makes these little mewling noises, these fucking amazing noises that hit the back of Kyuhyun’s throat as he delves his tongue in and slickly feels his way around inside. It’s insatiable, the taste of that fruity bubble gum that only little kids (and apparently Donghae) buy at the corner convenience store swirls into Kyuhyun’s mouth and mixing in with his own minty breath.
“Hmm, you smell so good,” Kyuhyun mutters teasingly against the other’s neck as he licks a random line before biting down, sucking the spot raw before he moves on to the next.
Groaning, Donghae curls his toes up inside his socks as his fingers hang onto the younger man’s broad shoulders for support. His skin feels like it’s on fire, streams of liquefied lava running through his vein as Kyuhyun starts feeling him through his pants.
Kyuhyun smirks; he always has the upper hand. That’s just the way it worked, everything is in his control with carefully calculated probabilities, predictable actions and reactions. Like the way his fingers wrap around the other’s hardening erection through the layers of fabric, cupping a tight outline that draws out noisy hisses and groans. Donghae melts in his grasp, dissolving into a compliant puddle onto the mattress.
Kyuhyun’s fingers dance a fancy line across the other’s belt before gripping onto the metal buckle, cool against his palm, and oh-so-hot is the bulge just a few inches further down awaiting his attention. Donghae’s shirt rides up a little, giving him a peek of wonderfully taut skin and an absolutely cute bellybutton.
The black-and-white screen over his vision sharpens Donghae’s features, emphasizes his distinct jaw line and the tiny wrinkles that appear around his big, puppy eyes and his wanton mouth hanging half-open before scrunching up to make such beautiful sounds. Touching Donghae’s chest, he runs the entire length with his hands and plays with a nipple in lazy, deliberate swirls.
Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun. Like a mesmerizing melody, Donghae calls out and Kyuhyun forgets completely what he’s doing, his lips take claim of his own name against the other’s as they kiss harder against each other. And they’re both so aroused that the teasing touches are fucking unbearable, erections hard and engorged rubbing against jerking fingers and velvety thighs.
Kyuhyun volunteers to bottom, secretly always bottoms because he’s addicted to the indescribably good sensation of someone entering him, the illogical part of him desiring to be filled in of the empty piece he’s never had. The first plunge in is quick as the sharp pain escalates and ebbs, he clings onto that raw feeling like an oh-so-familiar safety blanket and he’s all wrapped up into a tight little ball until the warm sensation of pleasure melts into him.
His senses are completely alive; their haggard breathing and soft moans that sound tender and utterly bare without noisy exaggeration or empty pretentiousness. Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun; he hears nothing but the syllables of his name repeated softer and rawer, magnificent sounds uttered out by an unforgettable voice.
Their hot sweat; his naked body is slick and sticky against Donghae’s as they move together, each thrust into him sends a gratuitous shiver from his spine seductively down to his tailbone. He can taste Donghae’s simple sweetness against his tongue as their kissing stays intimately beseeching and earnest as his climax reaches its deafening peak.
--
Kyuhyun rarely tells anyone he’s color-blind. Besides his doctor, only his family and a few close friends know, more from necessity than his own personal preference. They genuinely care for him, he knows that but he hates the looks of uncomfortable pity followed by overbearing niceness to compensate for the fact that he can’t truly see how beautiful the world is.
The sad looks on their faces are even more tragic in black and white, like an old mystery film noir where the weeping widow and the downtrodden detective try to find the culprit of the murder. Sorry, mam, your son’s eyes are dead and lifeless.
It’s stupid; he shouldn’t feel sorrow for something he never had in the first place. Still, he has this inkling that he’s missing out on something wondrous and magical. Insecure, there’s a part of him that’s terribly insecure. But he hides it well, too well.
--
Lazily wanton, Kyuhyun licks his bottom lip as the tip of his little pink tongue slips in and out of his mouth. Donghae swallows dryly, arms on either side trapping him in.
“You’re hot in all that clothes, aren’t you?” Donghae teases as he tugs lightly on the bed sheet wrapped precariously around the other’s hips.
“Actually, I think you’re feeling hotter,” Kyuhyun quips back with a smirk, his thigh moving forward and rubbing right between his legs.
Donghae groans against his ear, murmuring out, “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be late for work.”
“I’ll pay you the hours, and then we’ll have all day to ourselves,” Kyuhyun offers readily, lips already pressing butterfly kisses against the other’s neck.
“You know it doesn’t work that way,” Donghae says with a playful push, grinning as he grabs his jacket from the chair, “I’m not for hire, you know.”
Staring challengingly in return, Kyuhyun retorts, “Not even when you called me boss last night?”
“That never happened,” Donghae responds with a snort, “I pretty much own you.”
With a noisy smooch, Kyuhyun watches the other go out the door. He can’t help but grin.
He has this nervous, anxious feeling that clings stubbornly onto him no matter how hard he tries to shake it off. Nothing helps, not even the difficult (well, for most) math booklets he finishes in an hour to send off to the professors researching and dissecting how his brain functions, how his ingeniousness works.
Right now, it feels like his brain isn’t working at all.
--
Every time; Donghae leaves light kisses on his left shoulder, dotingly, thoughtfully from the expression on his face as he peers up at him. Leaning into the warm touches of affection, Kyuhyun feels the blanket slipping and resting further down on his lower back.
“I…I don’t do one-night stands,” Donghae declares suddenly, his eyebrow scrunching up as he gathers his thoughts into words, “We’ve only met a few times…I don’t usually do this. I’m not easy, you know. I don’t want you to think-”
Kyuhyun traces a thumb against his bottom lip, effectively silencing him as he continues moving his fingers against the curve of his jaw in gentle fascination. The sculpted degree of dip upwards is mathematically beautiful, so are the vertical line of his neck and the perpendicular shoulders that start sloping downwards.
He maps it all with his touch. Every single contour and delineation, he has them recorded meticulously inside his head (right next to the dimensional numbers for a government automated fighter jet). There’s always space for him to record, to categorize neatly to make sense of everything.
This is Donghae, 175 centimeters short because Kyuhyun can easily tower over him and he only pretends to be offended when the other pokes-fun at him about it. But, really, he knows Kyuhyun’s height and mature appearance is only a façade for the true kid inside. That’s why Donghae plays and laughs extra hard for the both of them, it’s like waiting on the front porch for Kyuhyun’s inner child to come out and join him.
This is Donghae; 60 kilograms light because Kyuhyun can easily pin him against the wall or door or bed when they’re making out all hot and heavy. Well, maybe he just lets him since Kyuhyun is pretty sure those arms picked him up once when he fell asleep on the couch instead of the bed. He wasn’t actually conscious then but he just knows because when he got up later, his blanket and sheets were warm and toasty instead of the familiar dull chill of the leather couch against his skin.
Kyuhyun’s been in lust before and involved in numerous relationships, some apologetically not lasting beyond a night. That’s how he knows he’s quite fond of Donghae. He remembers little details, big details, random and insignificant pieces of information about him when he usually doesn’t bother.
Fact about himself. His temperature raises one-point-five degrees, his body’s equilibrium falls out of chemical balance even when they’re not having sex and it’s scientifically unsound but he thinks they might be butterflies in his stomach.
--
“Hey, don’t bother,” Kyuhyun says deceivingly nonchalant.
Standing still, Donghae hesitates for an insecure moment before taking an extra step forward. The backpack hanging heavily from his hands, filled to the brim with books. Thick and thin and even medical ones he bought from the bookstore a week ago, all on the same subject.
Kyuhyun eyes it sullenly, but he doesn’t say anything. He watches the other in the process of thinking, probably pondering about what the appropriate way to treat him now.
It wasn’t purposeful; the truth just slipped out that one day Donghae burned his hand. A serious second-degree burn from the stove but by the time Kyuhyun saw it a day later, everything was already wrapped up in bandages.
He was so angry as he practically demanded to take a look at it, fuming about not being called to the emergency room in the first place.
Donghae looked embarrassed, sheepish as he shook his head, “It was no big deal, I didn’t want to bother you. But seriously, I’m okay. The bandages make it look worse than it actually is anyways and-”
“You’re bleeding through it!” Kyuhyun said in a sudden panic, grabbing the hand as he examined the thick liquid that had started to emerge through the white fabric dressing.
“It’s okay, Kyuhyun-ah, I’m okay-”
“It’s not okay, you’re bleeding, we’ve got to go to the hospital! Let’s go, I’ll drive and-”
“Kyuhyun, I’m okay,” Donghae cut in and expressed firmly, resting his unharmed hand on the other’s shoulder, “This, this isn’t blood-”
“Don’t lie to me, we’ve got to go now!” Kyuhyun replied urgently, damn sure the other just didn’t want him to worry.
“Kyuhyun-ah, this is just burn cream soaking through…it’s not even red…see?”
“No, I can’t see red, can’t see colors,” Kyuhyun said in a huff, immense relief shot embarrassed heat back to his face, “Can’t tell the difference at all.”
“W-what?”
And now the predicament. The books, the research, the overload of information, the guilty eyes staring back at Kyuhyun beseeching the tedium of talking about something no one can ever change. He wants to comfort the other but somehow that just seems ironic, he is the one damned after all.
Instead he changes the subject, choosing to focus on the hand that’s only lightly bandaged now. Impulsively, Donghae pulls it away when he tries to take a closer look.
“It’s really disgusting, you don’t want to see it.”
Truthfully, Donghae himself can’t stand looking at the damage, the angry red welts and uneven ridges vining their way up his pinky and onto his grafted skin. This is almost completely healed, this is how it will always look from now on, the bandage has long been unnecessary but he keeps it tightly wrapped.
Kyuhyun persists, peeling the layers off with careful fingers and Donghae puts up a brave, lighthearted front even if maybe he doesn’t believe it himself.
“Gross, right? I can star in a horror movie now, you know a psychotic killer with my scary, deformed hand as my signature trademark and it’ll be really cool and all.”
“That’s not right…you’d never get that role. Lee Donghae would always be that perfect prince charming in some cheesy romance with the corniest pick-up lines that still gets all the girls,” Kyuhyun says with playful disdain, taking a closer look at the injury with indiscernible observance, “Even men adore you.”
Donghae smiles whole-heartedly, is willing to believe anything the other says.
Even I adore you, Kyuhyun mentally adds. The burn is right there, is very obviously visible, is not so obviously reddish-pink and angry like different shades of skin melded together, but a calm gray. Is the one blemish that marks the other’s pretty hands, his clumsy hands. Somehow, it only reiterates how…how perfect the rest of Donghae is.
“I…” Donghae starts and stops, debating internally whether he should say it or not before his mouth opens again on its own accord, “I watched an old black-and-white movie the other night…just to kind of see what it’s like.”
Kyuhyun hates it, is immensely annoyed when people try to “step into his shoes for a day” and end up doing stupid, insulting sort of things. But he can’t really find himself hating anything Donghae does.
“Yeah, and?”
“I realized,” Donghae speculates with a certain look on his face, almost like relief, “I realized you won’t have to see some of my flaws, you’ll never have to see them. And the way you look at me, I like that only you will see me in that special way. It’s like our secret, our own movie showing, isn’t it?”
It’s selfish and kind of a cheesy romance and also more real than anything anyone else’s ever said to him. Kyuhyun thinks it’s wonderful, he’s wonderful, they’re so wonderful in their humanly defectiveness. Broken toys unite! I’ll be your hands and you’ll be my eyes.
Kyuhyun laces their hands up like shoe ties that keep a pair of feet warm and protected. When they kiss, it’s just as real the way they feel so perfectly imperfect against each other.
--
Kyuhyun’s words are always blunt and straight-to-the-point. Whatever he speaks comes directly from his mind with so much carefully calculated thought yet comes out breezily like it’s nothing to him.
I love you.
When Donghae looks at him that way and says it in return, that sort of light that illuminates from him is so bright and happy and alluring. It’s both scary and magnificent, Kyuhyun imagines himself sinking in it harder every day.
What kind of kid doesn't understand how to draw a yellow sun and a green grass?
The warm hand in his, the way they walk together without hurry or rush or direction other than forward. The grass that brushes against their toes as they step bare-footed is not just green, it’s soft and soothing like Donghae’s touch and his smile and his wholehearted love even in the plainest of moments. The sun above them is not just yellow, it’s adoringly basking his skin with affection like every single one of Donghae’s kisses like a promise that everything will be okay no matter what. More than okay.
His eyes only show black and white, but his life is colored. Kyuhyun sees that now.
Fin.
Characters: Donghae/Kyuhyun
Author: elliebear128 (formerly elmersglue128)
Rating: R (sexuality, language)
Length: one-shot
Words: 3,507
Requested: by serenesea, prompt below (posted in the KyuHae FanFic Comm Request Meme)
Summary: Kyuhyun sees the world in black and white only, and he's deeply troubled, but Donghae thinks Kyuhyun is special.
Kyuhyun didn’t know for years that the world looked any different, life is always a little dull.
His elementary teachers all said he was “special” but, really, they meant retarded; what kind of kid didn’t know how to draw a yellow sun and green grass? He was too proud to tell them he doesn’t understand.
He couldn’t see the difference between all the stupid crayons in the box. They all looked like shades of darker and lighter blacks next to the one white one. He didn’t understand why the other kids always snickered at him but he hated it, hated the attention and hated the awful feeling at the pit of his stomach like there’s something totally fucked-up with him.
--
“So you live in this big place all alone?” Donghae asks curiously, poking his head in for the first look before he finally steps the rest of the way inside the penthouse apartment.
“Since I was 17,” Kyuhyun answers with an indifferent shrug, “I’ve always preferred independence, my parents agreed with me.”
Donghae smiles in playful admiration, “Child prodigy, so I have a genius in my midst.”
“Most people are just dumbasses. That’s how I make money, from the idiots. And I’m filthy rich too, so much that I don’t even know how much even,” Kyuhyun replies sarcastically clipped and slightly incensed, unintentional, but he hates those words.
“Money only brings trouble, you know. I can tell you’re trouble already,” Donghae responds teasingly, undeterred by the sudden cold attitude.
Kyuhyun scoffs, decidedly amused again as he leans his back against the kitchen counter, “I’m completely harmless.”
“So is this why you invited me here? Because you’re totally harmless?” Donghae asks with a joking grin.
His smile is pretty, is a spark of light even when mischievous. Kyuhyun melts a little, just a tiny bit whenever it’s directed his way. But of course he doesn’t show it at all because he’s calm, collected, and cool.
Instead of answering, Kyuhyun shrugs again and grabs him by the hand, warm and soft and fits immediately against his own, before tugging him to towards a closed door, “This is the bedroom.”
Donghae lets out an impressed oh, taking in the luxurious shades of black furniture as refined and stylish as the rest of the place, “This looks like it came out of a catalog, a freaking high-end one.”
“Probably, the interior decorator showed me pictures of what she was going to do,” Kyuhyun answers with another shrug as he automatically takes a seat on the bed, palms flattened out to support himself as he leans back in appreciative observance of the other gawping at everything around him.
Donghae’s hands are still clinging onto his messenger bag hanging from his shoulder more out of edgy habit than anything, turning his attention back to the way Kyuhyun is just silently watching makes him all butterflies and nervousness.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick,” Donghae utters and basically dashes behind the door the other points at with a wry grin.
With a click, he’s alone enough to let out his held breath and stare more closely at his anxious expression in the mirror. Donghae has no idea why he’s even here, being picked up by strangers even this one he’s been ogling from afar for weeks is not something he ever agrees to despite the offers. He believes in soul mates and romance and making love, not one-night stands or booty calls.
Momentarily distracted, he grabs the cologne bottle from the counter and takes an inquisitive sniff (because he’s been utterly crazy about Kyuhyun’s scent). But he can’t smell anything, scrunching his nose up in concentration as he tries harder and ends up spraying it all over himself. When he glances up into the mirror, he jerks in surprise at Kyuhyun’s reflection leaned against a now open door looking back at him.
Donghae has a guilty expression on his face, guilt wrapped alluringly in pure innocence. Easily, Kyuhyun can detect his own everyday cologne all over the other’s skin and neck. It’s so erotic the way Donghae smells just like him as if they’ve been so close and flush against each other that his scent has thoroughly permeated over.
Kyuhyun wants it all to himself, wants a taste of it so badly he bites on his lower lip to contain himself.
“You look like you just did something bad,” Kyuhyun remarks lightly, arms crossed across his chest.
Donghae shakes his head in questionable denial, instantly trying to make his way back out only to be stopped by an extended arm in his path.
Like playing a game of chicken, they both stay glued to each other’s gazes as they inch in closer.
--
Numbers make complete sense to Kyuhyun, they don’t deceive him in any way. From being the stupid child, just like that he became the math prodigy. Nothing is easier for him to solve than equations and numeric problems, all he needed to do was use common sense and simple (well, at least to him) logic.
On the outside, he’s smug and confident but inside he’s so relieved that he could cry. In fact he did in the privacy of his own dark room with shameful dry-heave sobs, letting his heavy tears spill out with his dirty insecurities. Just maybe he’s not as broken or messed-up as he secretly grew to believe.
Kyuhyun’s clothes are black, even when he grows out of his rebellious teenage emo stage and his reclusive-hermit-in-the-dark-cave-of-his-room period. It’s just easier that way without fussing with things he can’t see.
As an adult, black is slick and sexy and sophisticated on him. Guys fucking love it, the paleness of his skin in comparison to the fabric of his clothes right before they become discarded items on the bedroom floor.
--
“Eyelash,” Donghae murmurs, gentle like an airy breeze, as his fingers touch the younger man’s cheek and his thumb makes a swiping motion, “Make a wish.”
The staring contest ends.
Kyuhyun doesn’t answer him, doesn’t bother to acknowledge the childish request but rather, is intent on his immediate desire to do…other things. His head dips down, capturing those lips against his own and their mouths are effortlessly pliant against each other’s as the bit of distance between them evaporates instantly.
Donghae makes these little mewling noises, these fucking amazing noises that hit the back of Kyuhyun’s throat as he delves his tongue in and slickly feels his way around inside. It’s insatiable, the taste of that fruity bubble gum that only little kids (and apparently Donghae) buy at the corner convenience store swirls into Kyuhyun’s mouth and mixing in with his own minty breath.
“Hmm, you smell so good,” Kyuhyun mutters teasingly against the other’s neck as he licks a random line before biting down, sucking the spot raw before he moves on to the next.
Groaning, Donghae curls his toes up inside his socks as his fingers hang onto the younger man’s broad shoulders for support. His skin feels like it’s on fire, streams of liquefied lava running through his vein as Kyuhyun starts feeling him through his pants.
Kyuhyun smirks; he always has the upper hand. That’s just the way it worked, everything is in his control with carefully calculated probabilities, predictable actions and reactions. Like the way his fingers wrap around the other’s hardening erection through the layers of fabric, cupping a tight outline that draws out noisy hisses and groans. Donghae melts in his grasp, dissolving into a compliant puddle onto the mattress.
Kyuhyun’s fingers dance a fancy line across the other’s belt before gripping onto the metal buckle, cool against his palm, and oh-so-hot is the bulge just a few inches further down awaiting his attention. Donghae’s shirt rides up a little, giving him a peek of wonderfully taut skin and an absolutely cute bellybutton.
The black-and-white screen over his vision sharpens Donghae’s features, emphasizes his distinct jaw line and the tiny wrinkles that appear around his big, puppy eyes and his wanton mouth hanging half-open before scrunching up to make such beautiful sounds. Touching Donghae’s chest, he runs the entire length with his hands and plays with a nipple in lazy, deliberate swirls.
Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun. Like a mesmerizing melody, Donghae calls out and Kyuhyun forgets completely what he’s doing, his lips take claim of his own name against the other’s as they kiss harder against each other. And they’re both so aroused that the teasing touches are fucking unbearable, erections hard and engorged rubbing against jerking fingers and velvety thighs.
Kyuhyun volunteers to bottom, secretly always bottoms because he’s addicted to the indescribably good sensation of someone entering him, the illogical part of him desiring to be filled in of the empty piece he’s never had. The first plunge in is quick as the sharp pain escalates and ebbs, he clings onto that raw feeling like an oh-so-familiar safety blanket and he’s all wrapped up into a tight little ball until the warm sensation of pleasure melts into him.
His senses are completely alive; their haggard breathing and soft moans that sound tender and utterly bare without noisy exaggeration or empty pretentiousness. Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun; he hears nothing but the syllables of his name repeated softer and rawer, magnificent sounds uttered out by an unforgettable voice.
Their hot sweat; his naked body is slick and sticky against Donghae’s as they move together, each thrust into him sends a gratuitous shiver from his spine seductively down to his tailbone. He can taste Donghae’s simple sweetness against his tongue as their kissing stays intimately beseeching and earnest as his climax reaches its deafening peak.
--
Kyuhyun rarely tells anyone he’s color-blind. Besides his doctor, only his family and a few close friends know, more from necessity than his own personal preference. They genuinely care for him, he knows that but he hates the looks of uncomfortable pity followed by overbearing niceness to compensate for the fact that he can’t truly see how beautiful the world is.
The sad looks on their faces are even more tragic in black and white, like an old mystery film noir where the weeping widow and the downtrodden detective try to find the culprit of the murder. Sorry, mam, your son’s eyes are dead and lifeless.
It’s stupid; he shouldn’t feel sorrow for something he never had in the first place. Still, he has this inkling that he’s missing out on something wondrous and magical. Insecure, there’s a part of him that’s terribly insecure. But he hides it well, too well.
--
Lazily wanton, Kyuhyun licks his bottom lip as the tip of his little pink tongue slips in and out of his mouth. Donghae swallows dryly, arms on either side trapping him in.
“You’re hot in all that clothes, aren’t you?” Donghae teases as he tugs lightly on the bed sheet wrapped precariously around the other’s hips.
“Actually, I think you’re feeling hotter,” Kyuhyun quips back with a smirk, his thigh moving forward and rubbing right between his legs.
Donghae groans against his ear, murmuring out, “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be late for work.”
“I’ll pay you the hours, and then we’ll have all day to ourselves,” Kyuhyun offers readily, lips already pressing butterfly kisses against the other’s neck.
“You know it doesn’t work that way,” Donghae says with a playful push, grinning as he grabs his jacket from the chair, “I’m not for hire, you know.”
Staring challengingly in return, Kyuhyun retorts, “Not even when you called me boss last night?”
“That never happened,” Donghae responds with a snort, “I pretty much own you.”
With a noisy smooch, Kyuhyun watches the other go out the door. He can’t help but grin.
He has this nervous, anxious feeling that clings stubbornly onto him no matter how hard he tries to shake it off. Nothing helps, not even the difficult (well, for most) math booklets he finishes in an hour to send off to the professors researching and dissecting how his brain functions, how his ingeniousness works.
Right now, it feels like his brain isn’t working at all.
--
Every time; Donghae leaves light kisses on his left shoulder, dotingly, thoughtfully from the expression on his face as he peers up at him. Leaning into the warm touches of affection, Kyuhyun feels the blanket slipping and resting further down on his lower back.
“I…I don’t do one-night stands,” Donghae declares suddenly, his eyebrow scrunching up as he gathers his thoughts into words, “We’ve only met a few times…I don’t usually do this. I’m not easy, you know. I don’t want you to think-”
Kyuhyun traces a thumb against his bottom lip, effectively silencing him as he continues moving his fingers against the curve of his jaw in gentle fascination. The sculpted degree of dip upwards is mathematically beautiful, so are the vertical line of his neck and the perpendicular shoulders that start sloping downwards.
He maps it all with his touch. Every single contour and delineation, he has them recorded meticulously inside his head (right next to the dimensional numbers for a government automated fighter jet). There’s always space for him to record, to categorize neatly to make sense of everything.
This is Donghae, 175 centimeters short because Kyuhyun can easily tower over him and he only pretends to be offended when the other pokes-fun at him about it. But, really, he knows Kyuhyun’s height and mature appearance is only a façade for the true kid inside. That’s why Donghae plays and laughs extra hard for the both of them, it’s like waiting on the front porch for Kyuhyun’s inner child to come out and join him.
This is Donghae; 60 kilograms light because Kyuhyun can easily pin him against the wall or door or bed when they’re making out all hot and heavy. Well, maybe he just lets him since Kyuhyun is pretty sure those arms picked him up once when he fell asleep on the couch instead of the bed. He wasn’t actually conscious then but he just knows because when he got up later, his blanket and sheets were warm and toasty instead of the familiar dull chill of the leather couch against his skin.
Kyuhyun’s been in lust before and involved in numerous relationships, some apologetically not lasting beyond a night. That’s how he knows he’s quite fond of Donghae. He remembers little details, big details, random and insignificant pieces of information about him when he usually doesn’t bother.
Fact about himself. His temperature raises one-point-five degrees, his body’s equilibrium falls out of chemical balance even when they’re not having sex and it’s scientifically unsound but he thinks they might be butterflies in his stomach.
--
“Hey, don’t bother,” Kyuhyun says deceivingly nonchalant.
Standing still, Donghae hesitates for an insecure moment before taking an extra step forward. The backpack hanging heavily from his hands, filled to the brim with books. Thick and thin and even medical ones he bought from the bookstore a week ago, all on the same subject.
Kyuhyun eyes it sullenly, but he doesn’t say anything. He watches the other in the process of thinking, probably pondering about what the appropriate way to treat him now.
It wasn’t purposeful; the truth just slipped out that one day Donghae burned his hand. A serious second-degree burn from the stove but by the time Kyuhyun saw it a day later, everything was already wrapped up in bandages.
He was so angry as he practically demanded to take a look at it, fuming about not being called to the emergency room in the first place.
Donghae looked embarrassed, sheepish as he shook his head, “It was no big deal, I didn’t want to bother you. But seriously, I’m okay. The bandages make it look worse than it actually is anyways and-”
“You’re bleeding through it!” Kyuhyun said in a sudden panic, grabbing the hand as he examined the thick liquid that had started to emerge through the white fabric dressing.
“It’s okay, Kyuhyun-ah, I’m okay-”
“It’s not okay, you’re bleeding, we’ve got to go to the hospital! Let’s go, I’ll drive and-”
“Kyuhyun, I’m okay,” Donghae cut in and expressed firmly, resting his unharmed hand on the other’s shoulder, “This, this isn’t blood-”
“Don’t lie to me, we’ve got to go now!” Kyuhyun replied urgently, damn sure the other just didn’t want him to worry.
“Kyuhyun-ah, this is just burn cream soaking through…it’s not even red…see?”
“No, I can’t see red, can’t see colors,” Kyuhyun said in a huff, immense relief shot embarrassed heat back to his face, “Can’t tell the difference at all.”
“W-what?”
And now the predicament. The books, the research, the overload of information, the guilty eyes staring back at Kyuhyun beseeching the tedium of talking about something no one can ever change. He wants to comfort the other but somehow that just seems ironic, he is the one damned after all.
Instead he changes the subject, choosing to focus on the hand that’s only lightly bandaged now. Impulsively, Donghae pulls it away when he tries to take a closer look.
“It’s really disgusting, you don’t want to see it.”
Truthfully, Donghae himself can’t stand looking at the damage, the angry red welts and uneven ridges vining their way up his pinky and onto his grafted skin. This is almost completely healed, this is how it will always look from now on, the bandage has long been unnecessary but he keeps it tightly wrapped.
Kyuhyun persists, peeling the layers off with careful fingers and Donghae puts up a brave, lighthearted front even if maybe he doesn’t believe it himself.
“Gross, right? I can star in a horror movie now, you know a psychotic killer with my scary, deformed hand as my signature trademark and it’ll be really cool and all.”
“That’s not right…you’d never get that role. Lee Donghae would always be that perfect prince charming in some cheesy romance with the corniest pick-up lines that still gets all the girls,” Kyuhyun says with playful disdain, taking a closer look at the injury with indiscernible observance, “Even men adore you.”
Donghae smiles whole-heartedly, is willing to believe anything the other says.
Even I adore you, Kyuhyun mentally adds. The burn is right there, is very obviously visible, is not so obviously reddish-pink and angry like different shades of skin melded together, but a calm gray. Is the one blemish that marks the other’s pretty hands, his clumsy hands. Somehow, it only reiterates how…how perfect the rest of Donghae is.
“I…” Donghae starts and stops, debating internally whether he should say it or not before his mouth opens again on its own accord, “I watched an old black-and-white movie the other night…just to kind of see what it’s like.”
Kyuhyun hates it, is immensely annoyed when people try to “step into his shoes for a day” and end up doing stupid, insulting sort of things. But he can’t really find himself hating anything Donghae does.
“Yeah, and?”
“I realized,” Donghae speculates with a certain look on his face, almost like relief, “I realized you won’t have to see some of my flaws, you’ll never have to see them. And the way you look at me, I like that only you will see me in that special way. It’s like our secret, our own movie showing, isn’t it?”
It’s selfish and kind of a cheesy romance and also more real than anything anyone else’s ever said to him. Kyuhyun thinks it’s wonderful, he’s wonderful, they’re so wonderful in their humanly defectiveness. Broken toys unite! I’ll be your hands and you’ll be my eyes.
Kyuhyun laces their hands up like shoe ties that keep a pair of feet warm and protected. When they kiss, it’s just as real the way they feel so perfectly imperfect against each other.
--
Kyuhyun’s words are always blunt and straight-to-the-point. Whatever he speaks comes directly from his mind with so much carefully calculated thought yet comes out breezily like it’s nothing to him.
I love you.
When Donghae looks at him that way and says it in return, that sort of light that illuminates from him is so bright and happy and alluring. It’s both scary and magnificent, Kyuhyun imagines himself sinking in it harder every day.
What kind of kid doesn't understand how to draw a yellow sun and a green grass?
The warm hand in his, the way they walk together without hurry or rush or direction other than forward. The grass that brushes against their toes as they step bare-footed is not just green, it’s soft and soothing like Donghae’s touch and his smile and his wholehearted love even in the plainest of moments. The sun above them is not just yellow, it’s adoringly basking his skin with affection like every single one of Donghae’s kisses like a promise that everything will be okay no matter what. More than okay.
His eyes only show black and white, but his life is colored. Kyuhyun sees that now.
Fin.