belong.
title: belong
author: futurebruises
length: 2222 words // oneshot
pairing: jongyu
rating: nc-17
warnings: bondage, wax play
genre: pwp
a/n: it's 2:30 am and i sincerely apologize if this is total shit but jongyu is 5ever
Jinki comes back to the bar late and smelling like dirt, his hands scratched up and the undersides of his fingernails filthy. As much as he professes to hate spring weddings at the flower shop where he works, he always comes home with a stolen bouquet of something or another for his boyfriend, and as much as Jonghyun professes to hate everything, his smile upon seeing them in his lover’s hands is always infectious and overwhelming.
Today they’re daisies and daffodils, contrasting gently with the pounding rain. Jonghyun sticks them in a vase and stands on a stool to put them on top of a cabinet, ignoring the drunken squalor of the eager-to-forget salary-men surrounding them and grinning like Jinki is the only person in the whole building.
Jonghyun does a million different odd jobs at the bar in exchange for cheaper rent in the noisy apartment above. It’s a nice bar - the clientele are just businessmen with too many families - that offers a nice salary and he really can’t complain that much. He gets off in a half hour and Jinki can’t fuckin’ wait, as he assures the younger before heading upstairs to undress - to get ready, if he’s honest. Their evening hasn’t even begun, and as bothersome as the knots in his back can be, all unnecessary pain is overshadowed by the ecstatic edge to his heartbeat.
Smiling, he unlocks the door and flicks on the dim light. Their place isn’t too much more than a bedroom and a kitchenette, but he’s turned the thing into an oasis of botanic life. There are so many white blossoms growing out of beer bottles that the flickering of the light is reflected a million times, like fairy lights on Christmas Eve. The rain is illuminated gently on the windowpanes.
Jinki sheds his shirt, whistling, and uses Jonghyun’s lighter to ignite a few candles. Such mood lighting is usually wasted, melted wax on Jonghyun’s flesh, but Jinki loves the illusion provided by the sensual cliché as it reflects in his lover’s warm eyes.
Jinki smirks to himself in the mirror. He looks like feels - like he’s been bent over clipping stems for hours, which is indeed true - but there’s a glimmer in his crooked smile. He grabs the thick twine off the sink counter and winds it around his fingers.
This will leave a mark, he knows, and he perks up as the door opens.
Almost as soon as Jonghyun enters, his hair a mess and his breath already perfumed with cheap soju, Jinki’s lips have met his.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers into Jonghyun’s ear, grinning and nipping at the sharp line of his jaw.
“Right back at you,” Jonghyun murmurs. He’s already almost whining and tugging at his uniform apron, and Jinki is good at picking up on things. Almost instantly, he sticks his tongue in Jonghyun’s mouth to shut him up, throws the apron and button-down on the ground, and pulls him backwards.
Moments later, they’re on the bed and Jonghyun’s hands are tied behind him in an elaborate sailor’s knot.
“God, I missed you.”
And, of course, Jonghyun has missed Jinki like hell too. He murmurs something unintelligible in response as Jinki moves his lips slowly down his naked, muscular torso. Jonghyun is already trembling, his lover’s overgrown hair tickling his abdomen. He shakes as he unsuccessfully holds back laughter. His gut aches and Jinki smacks him teasingly across the forehead before unbuttoning his jeans.
Jonghyun is already hard as hell. Jinki knows better than anyone the shameful thrill Jonghyun gets from being at the elder’s mercy and he plays to it. He’s always been smart and adaptable even if he did get hit in the face sixteen times with a soccer ball before he properly noticed the boy kicking it.
Jonghyun was a deadbeat dropout with a high pain threshold and Jinki was a brilliant, bumbling student with a quiet cunning side. Jonghyun had coaxed the dominance out of him with one beer, two songs, and a defiant smirk.
Jinki hadn’t known he was power-hungry until he was given power and now all he craves is the stuff. It creeps free from his stiff bones like a cold fire that engulfs himself and his lover on the floral sheets, keeping them warm even though it’s raining and the ceiling is just now starting to leak.
Jonghyun knows he’ll be patching that later and knows he needs to take advantage of their few minutes of carnal decadence while he can. He groans loudly for Jinki to hurry but Jinki just languidly runs his hand along his dick before grinning and grabbing one of the candles, turning it on its side and watching with the eager curiosity of a child as the melting wax collects and eventually drips onto Jonghyun’s chest. Jonghyun yelps and Jinki chuckles.
The white wax collects in a searing rivulet. Jonghyun hisses. Jinki just lets more drops fall and rubs at Jonghyun’s throbbing cock with his free hand.
“I missed you so much,” Jonghyun moans, thrusting his hips into the welcoming hand as his own arms go numb behind him. Jinki takes pity and grabs the younger by his hair, pulling him up to his knees as he stands himself.
Jonghyun knows what Jinki wants and he loves to comply, honestly. The ache of his arms and weight of Jinki’s cock, heavy and warm on his soju-lubricated lips, sends some freaky sort of messages to his brain that make him hungry for nothing but helplessness in the form of his beautiful boyfriend.
Jinki is his prince and his dragon-tamer; he is everything Jonghyun isn’t - grounded, intelligent, soft-spoken, warm-hearted. Jonghyun plays the role of the cynic the vast majority of the time, but Jinki can put the fear of God into him with a single nip of canine teeth.
And Jonghyun sucks like he’s learned how to, his mouth tight and warm and his tongue dancing with the precision of a knife even as wax drips onto his rippling, muscled shoulders. Jinki expects nothing less than his best, casually smacking at his hollowed cheeks at every shudder. Those cheekbones only deserve to be taken down a bit. Their beauty is regal as hell, but Jonghyun’s just the hostage, the foreign knight-errant, in his unassuming warrior prince’s dungeon.
Jinki runs this show and he knows it. He loves nothing more than the sight of Jonghyun’s lips spread wide to take him in, but he gets bored easily. His days are monotonous enough as they are.
Without much warning - but princes don’t need to warn their prisoners of war, do they? - Jinki blows out the candle, pushes Jonghyun’s head back and comes down to his level to press a kiss to his chapped lips. They are equal for a few moments, Jonghyun pressing into Jinki, until Jinki digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Jonghyun’s thigh, hard enough to spread them and bruise them. He grabs Jonghyun’s hair in one hand and shoves the fingers of the other into the warm cavity of Jonghyun’s mouth.
He’s met with teeth, but he’ll have his way with Jonghyun and, somewhere just below the nihilistic surface, Jonghyun wants that to happen. He wants Jinki to have his way with him and he has a perfect grasp of the futility of his struggle. Jinki is pretty sure he just likes the rope burn on his wrists - he likes being marked. He likes the bruises and the gentle exhaustion that tugs his muscles and his brain into some kind of empty subspace of belonging and warmth. He likes belonging to something.
(Or someone, as the case may be.)
In any case, Jinki just smiles knowingly as Jonghyun squirms and sucks at his fingers, shoving them in together and provoking the smaller man to buck up his hips and whine, probably hard enough to bruise Jinki, but Jinki has better excuses. His work is manual and legitimate, while Jonghyun has maybe seen two or three bar fights and never been involved.
Jinki casually scissors his fingers inside of Jonghyun, expanding him with soft affirmations of his own love and adoration of the boy moving beneath him. Jonghyun can’t hardly be expected to stay calm when his heart is beating like this, when he feels so loved and so perfectly helpless.
Jinki can just respond every time Jonghyun bucks his hips in some kind of attempt to push himself closer or dislocate his own shoulder, and that’s worth more than Jonghyun’s physique and superior salary. Jinki is simply brilliant; he’s far superior to Jonghyun and Jonghyun knows it well enough. He’s not sure if Jinki really knows it himself, but that’s the least of his worries as his wrists chafe on twine and Jinki hits his prostrate.
Jinki half-grins at the noise he elicits, kissing Jonghyun deeply and letting him take full advantage of the intruding fingers for a few moments before he pulls them out. He kisses Jonghyun’s trembling temple as he shoves in and clamps a hand over Jonghyun’s mouth, nipping a beautiful scream in the bud.
Maybe it’s cruel, considering their downstairs neighbors are all howling drunks who couldn’t care less, but it’s only Jinki testing his power. Princes need to scare their subjects into obedience every once in a while.
Jonghyun proves as perfect and demure as ever. Jinki’s lips curl up in a smile and he thrusts in hard, letting Jonghyun moan this time. He does, admittedly, have a beautiful voice. Every night, the siren song lures Jinki into the secretly familiar no-man’s land, far closer to making love than just fucking. The prospect makes him shiver and give Jonghyun a longer-than-usual chance to adjust and to bite back at the pale flesh of Jinki’s shoulder.
He gets smacked for it but he doesn’t care. Jinki knows the sick pleasure he gets from the punishment and lets it go, laughing, “I love you,” into the boy’s tender ear as he pulls out and pushes in again, harder and faster, picking up some kind of erratic rhythm.
Their voices eventually become equal despite the power play, and it’s an amazing, desperate harmony. Jinki loves Jonghyun’s voice - it’s what pulled him to Jonghyun in the first place, if he thinks about it. The first time they fucked was after a drunken karaoke night at a hostel in Busan, and Jinki still regards the shithole fondly.
They’ll go back if they ever have the money, but for now they’re fine with being fashionably poor, fucking on hand-me-down sheets on a yard-sale mattress above a high-class bar in the center of the city. Their priorities are skewed, but it’s really just a matter of taste.
And Jinki thrusts in and out of Jonghyun, pressing wet kisses to his straining shoulders as if he’s knighting him, bringing him over to this side of the war. He’ll need to betray his own kind if he wants his life, but hell, it’s not much of a price to pay if he gets love out of the bargain.
In a wordless agreement, they settle the score.
Jinki unties Jonghyun’s hands and throws the twine off elsewhere. He bites at Jonghyun’s chest and Jonghyun pulls his arms around Jinki, grabbing aimlessly at the soft white shoulders as Jinki hits his prostrate with a warrior’s slaying grace. They’re nearing the end, each of them tiptoeing on the teeth of the dragon, but they’re holding onto one another. Jinki tugs at Jonghyun’s cock and Jonghyun arches his back as Jinki fucks him even harder.
They both go down together, sucked into a venomous pit of ecstasy. Jinki cums within Jonghyun, filling his insides with warmth and sighing softly as he pulls out and watches the liquid drip down Jonghyun’s thighs along with Jonghyun’s own, burned and bruised but beautiful nonetheless. Jinki licks it up as some sort of common courtesy to the man he just broke down.
Jonghyun doesn’t care; Jonghyun is unbreakable. His drawn-out panting and Jinki’s kisses to his reddened wrists are practically unnecessary. He loves this test to his strength and Jinki loves this assertion of his strength. The shy prince gets to execute justice on his pretty prisoner until they save one another from whatever it is they need saving from besides the rent and themselves.
Because, honestly, Jonghyun and Jinki are happy as they are. They’re young and in love and even if they’re hurting now, by tomorrow night, they’ll have washed the cum off the sheets and Jonghyun’s hands will be tied above his head.
Tonight, though, Jinki wipes off the cum with his shirt and tangles his fingers with Jonghyun’s. He curls up behind the shorter boy and smiles as the pounding of his heart dies down into the pounding of the rain.
The roof remains unpatched and half the candles are still lit, but they shelter one another from the drip in the ceiling so the plants can take it in. And, of all places in the world, they belong here, on the hand-me-down sheets on the yard-sale mattress above the high-class bar in the middle of the city, surrounded by twinkle lights and white flowers in beer bottles. The bruises and burns just add to the charm.
Ultimately, they’re in love, and everything else is irrelevant. They belong in each others’ arms.
author: futurebruises
length: 2222 words // oneshot
pairing: jongyu
rating: nc-17
warnings: bondage, wax play
genre: pwp
a/n: it's 2:30 am and i sincerely apologize if this is total shit but jongyu is 5ever
Jinki comes back to the bar late and smelling like dirt, his hands scratched up and the undersides of his fingernails filthy. As much as he professes to hate spring weddings at the flower shop where he works, he always comes home with a stolen bouquet of something or another for his boyfriend, and as much as Jonghyun professes to hate everything, his smile upon seeing them in his lover’s hands is always infectious and overwhelming.
Today they’re daisies and daffodils, contrasting gently with the pounding rain. Jonghyun sticks them in a vase and stands on a stool to put them on top of a cabinet, ignoring the drunken squalor of the eager-to-forget salary-men surrounding them and grinning like Jinki is the only person in the whole building.
Jonghyun does a million different odd jobs at the bar in exchange for cheaper rent in the noisy apartment above. It’s a nice bar - the clientele are just businessmen with too many families - that offers a nice salary and he really can’t complain that much. He gets off in a half hour and Jinki can’t fuckin’ wait, as he assures the younger before heading upstairs to undress - to get ready, if he’s honest. Their evening hasn’t even begun, and as bothersome as the knots in his back can be, all unnecessary pain is overshadowed by the ecstatic edge to his heartbeat.
Smiling, he unlocks the door and flicks on the dim light. Their place isn’t too much more than a bedroom and a kitchenette, but he’s turned the thing into an oasis of botanic life. There are so many white blossoms growing out of beer bottles that the flickering of the light is reflected a million times, like fairy lights on Christmas Eve. The rain is illuminated gently on the windowpanes.
Jinki sheds his shirt, whistling, and uses Jonghyun’s lighter to ignite a few candles. Such mood lighting is usually wasted, melted wax on Jonghyun’s flesh, but Jinki loves the illusion provided by the sensual cliché as it reflects in his lover’s warm eyes.
Jinki smirks to himself in the mirror. He looks like feels - like he’s been bent over clipping stems for hours, which is indeed true - but there’s a glimmer in his crooked smile. He grabs the thick twine off the sink counter and winds it around his fingers.
This will leave a mark, he knows, and he perks up as the door opens.
Almost as soon as Jonghyun enters, his hair a mess and his breath already perfumed with cheap soju, Jinki’s lips have met his.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers into Jonghyun’s ear, grinning and nipping at the sharp line of his jaw.
“Right back at you,” Jonghyun murmurs. He’s already almost whining and tugging at his uniform apron, and Jinki is good at picking up on things. Almost instantly, he sticks his tongue in Jonghyun’s mouth to shut him up, throws the apron and button-down on the ground, and pulls him backwards.
Moments later, they’re on the bed and Jonghyun’s hands are tied behind him in an elaborate sailor’s knot.
“God, I missed you.”
And, of course, Jonghyun has missed Jinki like hell too. He murmurs something unintelligible in response as Jinki moves his lips slowly down his naked, muscular torso. Jonghyun is already trembling, his lover’s overgrown hair tickling his abdomen. He shakes as he unsuccessfully holds back laughter. His gut aches and Jinki smacks him teasingly across the forehead before unbuttoning his jeans.
Jonghyun is already hard as hell. Jinki knows better than anyone the shameful thrill Jonghyun gets from being at the elder’s mercy and he plays to it. He’s always been smart and adaptable even if he did get hit in the face sixteen times with a soccer ball before he properly noticed the boy kicking it.
Jonghyun was a deadbeat dropout with a high pain threshold and Jinki was a brilliant, bumbling student with a quiet cunning side. Jonghyun had coaxed the dominance out of him with one beer, two songs, and a defiant smirk.
Jinki hadn’t known he was power-hungry until he was given power and now all he craves is the stuff. It creeps free from his stiff bones like a cold fire that engulfs himself and his lover on the floral sheets, keeping them warm even though it’s raining and the ceiling is just now starting to leak.
Jonghyun knows he’ll be patching that later and knows he needs to take advantage of their few minutes of carnal decadence while he can. He groans loudly for Jinki to hurry but Jinki just languidly runs his hand along his dick before grinning and grabbing one of the candles, turning it on its side and watching with the eager curiosity of a child as the melting wax collects and eventually drips onto Jonghyun’s chest. Jonghyun yelps and Jinki chuckles.
The white wax collects in a searing rivulet. Jonghyun hisses. Jinki just lets more drops fall and rubs at Jonghyun’s throbbing cock with his free hand.
“I missed you so much,” Jonghyun moans, thrusting his hips into the welcoming hand as his own arms go numb behind him. Jinki takes pity and grabs the younger by his hair, pulling him up to his knees as he stands himself.
Jonghyun knows what Jinki wants and he loves to comply, honestly. The ache of his arms and weight of Jinki’s cock, heavy and warm on his soju-lubricated lips, sends some freaky sort of messages to his brain that make him hungry for nothing but helplessness in the form of his beautiful boyfriend.
Jinki is his prince and his dragon-tamer; he is everything Jonghyun isn’t - grounded, intelligent, soft-spoken, warm-hearted. Jonghyun plays the role of the cynic the vast majority of the time, but Jinki can put the fear of God into him with a single nip of canine teeth.
And Jonghyun sucks like he’s learned how to, his mouth tight and warm and his tongue dancing with the precision of a knife even as wax drips onto his rippling, muscled shoulders. Jinki expects nothing less than his best, casually smacking at his hollowed cheeks at every shudder. Those cheekbones only deserve to be taken down a bit. Their beauty is regal as hell, but Jonghyun’s just the hostage, the foreign knight-errant, in his unassuming warrior prince’s dungeon.
Jinki runs this show and he knows it. He loves nothing more than the sight of Jonghyun’s lips spread wide to take him in, but he gets bored easily. His days are monotonous enough as they are.
Without much warning - but princes don’t need to warn their prisoners of war, do they? - Jinki blows out the candle, pushes Jonghyun’s head back and comes down to his level to press a kiss to his chapped lips. They are equal for a few moments, Jonghyun pressing into Jinki, until Jinki digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Jonghyun’s thigh, hard enough to spread them and bruise them. He grabs Jonghyun’s hair in one hand and shoves the fingers of the other into the warm cavity of Jonghyun’s mouth.
He’s met with teeth, but he’ll have his way with Jonghyun and, somewhere just below the nihilistic surface, Jonghyun wants that to happen. He wants Jinki to have his way with him and he has a perfect grasp of the futility of his struggle. Jinki is pretty sure he just likes the rope burn on his wrists - he likes being marked. He likes the bruises and the gentle exhaustion that tugs his muscles and his brain into some kind of empty subspace of belonging and warmth. He likes belonging to something.
(Or someone, as the case may be.)
In any case, Jinki just smiles knowingly as Jonghyun squirms and sucks at his fingers, shoving them in together and provoking the smaller man to buck up his hips and whine, probably hard enough to bruise Jinki, but Jinki has better excuses. His work is manual and legitimate, while Jonghyun has maybe seen two or three bar fights and never been involved.
Jinki casually scissors his fingers inside of Jonghyun, expanding him with soft affirmations of his own love and adoration of the boy moving beneath him. Jonghyun can’t hardly be expected to stay calm when his heart is beating like this, when he feels so loved and so perfectly helpless.
Jinki can just respond every time Jonghyun bucks his hips in some kind of attempt to push himself closer or dislocate his own shoulder, and that’s worth more than Jonghyun’s physique and superior salary. Jinki is simply brilliant; he’s far superior to Jonghyun and Jonghyun knows it well enough. He’s not sure if Jinki really knows it himself, but that’s the least of his worries as his wrists chafe on twine and Jinki hits his prostrate.
Jinki half-grins at the noise he elicits, kissing Jonghyun deeply and letting him take full advantage of the intruding fingers for a few moments before he pulls them out. He kisses Jonghyun’s trembling temple as he shoves in and clamps a hand over Jonghyun’s mouth, nipping a beautiful scream in the bud.
Maybe it’s cruel, considering their downstairs neighbors are all howling drunks who couldn’t care less, but it’s only Jinki testing his power. Princes need to scare their subjects into obedience every once in a while.
Jonghyun proves as perfect and demure as ever. Jinki’s lips curl up in a smile and he thrusts in hard, letting Jonghyun moan this time. He does, admittedly, have a beautiful voice. Every night, the siren song lures Jinki into the secretly familiar no-man’s land, far closer to making love than just fucking. The prospect makes him shiver and give Jonghyun a longer-than-usual chance to adjust and to bite back at the pale flesh of Jinki’s shoulder.
He gets smacked for it but he doesn’t care. Jinki knows the sick pleasure he gets from the punishment and lets it go, laughing, “I love you,” into the boy’s tender ear as he pulls out and pushes in again, harder and faster, picking up some kind of erratic rhythm.
Their voices eventually become equal despite the power play, and it’s an amazing, desperate harmony. Jinki loves Jonghyun’s voice - it’s what pulled him to Jonghyun in the first place, if he thinks about it. The first time they fucked was after a drunken karaoke night at a hostel in Busan, and Jinki still regards the shithole fondly.
They’ll go back if they ever have the money, but for now they’re fine with being fashionably poor, fucking on hand-me-down sheets on a yard-sale mattress above a high-class bar in the center of the city. Their priorities are skewed, but it’s really just a matter of taste.
And Jinki thrusts in and out of Jonghyun, pressing wet kisses to his straining shoulders as if he’s knighting him, bringing him over to this side of the war. He’ll need to betray his own kind if he wants his life, but hell, it’s not much of a price to pay if he gets love out of the bargain.
In a wordless agreement, they settle the score.
Jinki unties Jonghyun’s hands and throws the twine off elsewhere. He bites at Jonghyun’s chest and Jonghyun pulls his arms around Jinki, grabbing aimlessly at the soft white shoulders as Jinki hits his prostrate with a warrior’s slaying grace. They’re nearing the end, each of them tiptoeing on the teeth of the dragon, but they’re holding onto one another. Jinki tugs at Jonghyun’s cock and Jonghyun arches his back as Jinki fucks him even harder.
They both go down together, sucked into a venomous pit of ecstasy. Jinki cums within Jonghyun, filling his insides with warmth and sighing softly as he pulls out and watches the liquid drip down Jonghyun’s thighs along with Jonghyun’s own, burned and bruised but beautiful nonetheless. Jinki licks it up as some sort of common courtesy to the man he just broke down.
Jonghyun doesn’t care; Jonghyun is unbreakable. His drawn-out panting and Jinki’s kisses to his reddened wrists are practically unnecessary. He loves this test to his strength and Jinki loves this assertion of his strength. The shy prince gets to execute justice on his pretty prisoner until they save one another from whatever it is they need saving from besides the rent and themselves.
Because, honestly, Jonghyun and Jinki are happy as they are. They’re young and in love and even if they’re hurting now, by tomorrow night, they’ll have washed the cum off the sheets and Jonghyun’s hands will be tied above his head.
Tonight, though, Jinki wipes off the cum with his shirt and tangles his fingers with Jonghyun’s. He curls up behind the shorter boy and smiles as the pounding of his heart dies down into the pounding of the rain.
The roof remains unpatched and half the candles are still lit, but they shelter one another from the drip in the ceiling so the plants can take it in. And, of all places in the world, they belong here, on the hand-me-down sheets on the yard-sale mattress above the high-class bar in the middle of the city, surrounded by twinkle lights and white flowers in beer bottles. The bruises and burns just add to the charm.
Ultimately, they’re in love, and everything else is irrelevant. They belong in each others’ arms.