Fic: A (Likely) Series of Events
Title: A (Likely) Series of Events
Author: dana (dahchi)
Rating: R for language and sexual themes.
Pairing: Kim Jae Joong x Shim Changmin
Summary: A schizophrenic collection of scenes about falling in love. Soul rotting fluff. I have no excuse, really. For, this, the occasion of dreaminthepast’s twenty fifth birthday! I hope Jae Joong makes you smile. At least once. ♥
Disclaimer: I have no connections with any of the above parties. This was done for entertainment purposes only and did not actually occur. No offense is meant.
Notes: Looking for a beta, particularly those proficient with grammar.
x-posted to _starcandy and our fanworks comm musicaloddnotes.
one.
At eighteen, rule 156 section b) do not date your bandmates (under any circumstances, particularly public ones) makes them laugh so hard Yoochun nearly chokes on his reheated cup noodles. They were going to be famous, damn it. There was going to be queues. Lines and lines of curvy women and messy backseat sex in fast, expensive cars.
So when the manager’s back has turned and he’s moving onto proper interview etiquette Jae Joong raises the piece of paper he’s been scribbling on (it says ‘RESERVED’, complete with an artfully messy pair of mountainous boobs) they all just laugh harder.
two.
Even during the early training days, it’s easy to like Kim Jae Joong; epic, novel-length tangents and strange bonding rituals included.
“Yoochun-ah, let me lick you!”
Yoochun is across the dance studio in three steps. “Fuck off!” He warns, even though he’s giggling through his nose.
Jae Joong spreads his arms, attempts to look vaguely non-threatening in a completely unsuccessful way, “Yoochunnie,” he implores, “you’re so sexy!”
Changmin isn’t sure if it’s the appeal to his vanity or Jae Joong’s slightly put out expression that gets Jae Joong through the defenses but he’s up, up, up and licking a long, wet stripe across Yoochun’s neck. Yoochun moans dramatically, “Noooooo!”, sliding his way down Jae Joong’s legs and flopping corpse-like to the floor.
In the commotion, Changmin doesn’t realize he’s laughing until Jae Joong leans over to poke him in the cheek, “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”
Changmin turns his head and bites down (hard) on Jae Joong’s wandering finger. Throws the other boy a cheeky grin when he looks slightly flustered by the move. Something discernible shifts in Jae Joong’s eyes then, as if he’s seeing Changmin for the first time, as if he suddenly, inexorably, gets it.
He presses forward and licks a slimy trail along the line of Changmin’s nose.
“Ew.” Changmin says, wiping desperately at the wetness with his sweatshirt sleeve, “That’s disgusting.”
“Let’s go get something to eat.” Jae Joong answers brightly, the sun in his smile.
three.
The idea of personal boundaries and privacy lasts less than a week, dying a climatic early morning death about the same time Jae Joong struts into the kitchen in nothing but his underwear and says, “I think something’s wrong. Will you guys take a look?”
And then he’s naked and Yunho is spitting out his cereal and Changmin doesn’t quite know where he should be staring because there seems to be a lot to stare at.
“Pants.” Yunho states with majestic restraint, nearly turning it into an anthem, “Pants, pants, pants!”
Jae Joong looks appropriately scandalized by the lack of interest, “But it’s broken!”
“Pants!”
The one finger reply is probably deserved but Jae Joong retreats sullenly, muttering contemptuously about icky, no good envy, envy, envy leader-shi. In the shocked silence that follows, Yoochun spins his spoon between his fingers and announces triumphantly, “Mine’s bigger.”
four.
“I’m sweaty,” Changmin says to the door, “I’m a sweaty man. It’s important.”
“You could always join me,” singsongs the Jae Joong behind it.
“No.”
“Why not? I’ll wash your back.”
“No.”
“Changmin-ah!”
“I’m not getting naked and soapy with you. There needs to be a line. A big non-naked and soapy line.”
Jae Joong has mastered the long suffering sigh, “I won’t look.”
Changmin has mastered the stubborn, “You will too.”
“Will not.”
“Will too! You and Yoochun-hyung are terrible. Why don’t you just bring in the measuring tape with you and get it over with?”
Jae Joong changes tactics, moves onto the aggressive whine, “Minnie, take a shower with me.”
“No!”
The door flies open and Jae Joong is standing there; a shock of messy black hair and a tiny, tiny towel and Changmin is about to say finally when Jae Joong suddenly jumps forward and knocks Changmin toppling into the wall, hands fumbling towards the fly of his jeans.
And then it’s a genuine struggle (and another hole in the wall) that only ends when Junsu is drawn in from the bedroom by the unmanly shrieking. Which is how Changmin finds himself on the floor with a still wet Jae Joong perched on his stomach, Yoochun holding his wrists and Junsu yanking determinedly at a pant leg. “Hyung, that was my nipple!”
When Yunho comes around the corner, he blinks in sleepy slow motion, “Nobody told me that we were stripping Changmin.”
Junsu merely smiles at him, all sunshine and love and answers, “Grab his other leg, will you?”
five.
Yoochun and Changmin are sprawled out loose limbed on the couch watching a Japanese love story when Jae Joong climbs into Changmin’s lap, leans forward lazily until they’re nose to nose and says very calmly, “Why hello, Choikang Changmin.”
“Hello, Youngwoong Jae Joong,” Changmin answers placidly and they stare and stare and stare.
“Oh no,” Yoochun moans and pulls the blanket over his head just as it starts; arms and flailing legs and thump, thump, thud they’re on the floor. Jae Joong has found a permanent marker somewhere and the prospects are frankly terrifying.
They knock over a stack of manga, two plates of leftover natto and nearly destroy one of Yunho’s Cher cds before Jae Joong slips through Changmin’s arms and uses his upper body to flip the other man over and trap him between his thighs. Changmin digs his toes into the carpet and arches up desperately, hoping to push Jae Joong off but he lacks the leverage with his arms caught uncomfortably under him. Damn.
“Jae Joong-hyung?” He says cutely, widens his eyes to their fullest potential.
Jae Joong ignores him, popping the cap off the marker with his teeth.
Failed.
Changmin sits still and glares fire and brimstone until the damage is done. Jae Joong sticks his tongue out as he drags the marker tip carefully along Changmin’s cheeks, face furrowed in concentration as though he’s the next Picasso and this is somehow grand art. Yoochun leans forward to survey the results, squinting through the darkness, and when Jae Joong says “tada!” he keels over, red and laughing. No good could come of this.
“Whiskers suit you, Changminnie.” Yoochun drawls.
“I hate you all.” Changmin pouts, but Jae Joong is too busy trying to fashion his hair into cat shaped ears to really listen.
Apparently appeased, he sprawls out comfortably across Changmin; legs to the right, arms to the left. And Changmin thinks he should say move but the room is warm, warm and Jae Joong is warm, warm and everything smells like the katsudon they had for dinner.
Turning to the television, Jae Joong lays his head down on Changmin’s chest and yawns widely. Tip toes his fingertips along the other man’s collarbone, “Good kitty. Sit, stay.”
Yoochun is asleep by the time the movie has reached its climax, snoring through the ‘I love yous’ and the perfect moment when the hero and heroine link pinky fingers and walk off into their storybook lives. Something young and petulant uncurls itself painfully in Changmin’s chest at the sight.
And it’s clichéd, really. Changmin is pessimistic enough to know that it doesn’t work like that, that love is much more like a puzzle than a game of connect the dots, but he wishes that it could be that cut and dry. That he could catch maybe just a corner of some ridiculously idealistic happy ending and run right out of the business with it. He feels stupid and childish when he realizes he’s crying like a prepubescent teenage girl through the credits, tears sliding from his eyes and onto the carpet.
He lifts his hand to wipe at them but Jae Joong catches his wrist first, fingers squeezing down hard and thumb stroking softly against the skin. His head tilts upward and he smiles painfully, “Wimp.”
“I just…” Changmin whispers, closing his eyes but Jae Joong has rolled over and pushed himself up on his elbows. He leans down and his lips move gently over Changmin’s eyelids, taking the tears with him.
Changmin looks up, startled; then shivers down to his toes when he realizes that Jae Joong is staring at this mouth.
There’s a beat, maybe two, and then Jae Joong says, “Oh, whatever,” and kisses him hard; his hands tangling in Changmin’s hair and his tongue dragging itself liquid-slow along the roof of Changmin’s mouth. It’s clumsy and wet and oh, god, Changmin just opens up and takes it. Feels the tension melt out of his spine and soak into the floor.
“Oh,” Changmin murmurs when they pull apart, his heartbeat thundering in his own ears.
Jae Joong is smiling, is this okay? And Changmin wonders if he’s talking about the kiss or the everything but Jae Joong’s hand is sliding smoothly along Changmin’s shirt front and oh, yeah, it’s about the everything.
“Meow.” Jae Joong says, laughing quietly in the dark.
“Shut up and do that again.” Changmin answers.
six.
Another show, another interview and Changmin closes the bathroom door and kneels down, presses his palms into the cold tile. Takes a long, deep breath and then tries to take another as the panic ties knots in his chest and starts to strangle him. Not good enough.
He can hear the others in the kitchen, laughing and arguing good naturedly about which take-out restaurant has the most orgasmic bulgogi and there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room, not enough oxygen in the entire world. He feels all his well constructed walls threatening to cave in around him and he wonders if he can keep doing this, day after day, until the industry finally spits them out all wasted and empty.
The pain cramps hard in his stomach and for a horrifying moment Changmin thinks he’s going to be sick all over their stylish designer bathtub.
-- But then there’s a voice behind him whispering nonsense reassurances over and over and over and cold hands sliding up and down his back soothingly. The comforting, heavy weight of a head against the curve of his shoulder blades.
“Better, yeah?” Jae Joong says when the panic recedes, when Changmin can breathe again.
Changmin blinks at him and feels a strange, prickling heat pressing up behind his eyes. Oh shit, no, not that. Not now.
"I'm so sorry," he says dumbly and Jae Joong reaches forward, his fingers digging into Changmin’s shoulders hard enough to bruise and suddenly there's arms and legs and warmth all around him and Jae Joong’s accented Japanese saying, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay" like a soft, skipping record. He hangs on until the world makes sense again, until Jae Joong has reached the second chorus of "Balloons" and then harrumphs because he's forgotten Junsu’s part.
Changmin looks past him, past him to the door he knows he locked and Jae Joong holds up a credit card somewhat sheepishly. Changmin laughs, congested and hysterical; he’d forgotten the idea of doors had stopped existing after the first month.
seven.
Jae Joong has been on crutches for two weeks and every once and awhile he’ll stop to shake out his arms and grimace (for a split second, barely seen) but Changmin will ask, “Does it hurt?”
A nonchalant roll of shoulders, “A little, only a little.”
Changmin bends over to offer his back and Jae Joong smirks, poking Changmin in the ribs, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to ride you, Changmin.”
“Drop dead, hyung.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Jae Joong is heavy and a bit awkward but as they struggle down the stairs he leans forward and kisses the back of Changmin’s neck; a warm, welcome tickle of breath, “I love you, Changmin.”
“The Changmin is a strictly non-talking vehicle.”
“Oh, right,” Jae Joong answers knowingly and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. In the silence that follows Changmin can still feel the curve of a smile against his skin.
eight.
At night, his shoulders ache and the pain keeps him awake. Changmin vows to get stronger (much, much stronger) so that if the time ever comes he can carry them all the same way.
nine.
It’s four am, the others are dreaming of stages in the bedroom and Korea is sliding by kaleidoscope beneath them. Jae Joong follows him to the couch and they make out a bit, hands and lips and easiness. And it is easy, so damn easy that sometimes Changmin nearly chokes on the unfairness of it.
So when Jae Joong leans forward, mouth moving against the slope of Changmin’s throat, (“trust me”), he nods and tries very hard to keep from shaking.
The slick hand against him is cold, a little awkward, but the feeling after nearly breaks him; Jae Joong’s fingers curling up inside of him, stroking deep until Changmin presses down and begs for more and more, please, please please. It’s uncoordinated and strange, neither of them knowing exactly what to do, so Changmin wraps his legs around Jae Joong’s waist and Jae Joong brings their foreheads together so that when Changmin rocks his hips ungracefully, desperately, nothing else much matters.
“I need- “ Changmin tries, arching up. He doesn't know how to ask, will never know exactly how to ask.
“I know.” Jae Joong says and pushes him harder into the cushions.
The movement brings him close, pushes him over, and Changmin feels his mouth moving voicelessly as they find that place, that moment, when the whole world burns white.
“We had sex on the couch.” Changmin mutters later, as the air dries the skin between them. He feels a bit guilty.
Jae Joong’s expression has edges, a little demon grin, “I had been hoping for the table, actually.”
ten.
It’s dark and they are fumbling in a closet. Jae Joong’s lips whispering against Changmin’s, “This is going to be messy.”
“Good.” Changmin answers with all the soul shaking honesty he can muster, sliding his hand down the front of Jae Joong’s pants.
fin.
It's been two years since I've written anything. At times, recently, it's been like trying to dig to China with a spoon. ._____. I will work hard from now on. ♥
Author: dana (dahchi)
Rating: R for language and sexual themes.
Pairing: Kim Jae Joong x Shim Changmin
Summary: A schizophrenic collection of scenes about falling in love. Soul rotting fluff. I have no excuse, really. For, this, the occasion of dreaminthepast’s twenty fifth birthday! I hope Jae Joong makes you smile. At least once. ♥
Disclaimer: I have no connections with any of the above parties. This was done for entertainment purposes only and did not actually occur. No offense is meant.
Notes: Looking for a beta, particularly those proficient with grammar.
x-posted to _starcandy and our fanworks comm musicaloddnotes.
one.
At eighteen, rule 156 section b) do not date your bandmates (under any circumstances, particularly public ones) makes them laugh so hard Yoochun nearly chokes on his reheated cup noodles. They were going to be famous, damn it. There was going to be queues. Lines and lines of curvy women and messy backseat sex in fast, expensive cars.
So when the manager’s back has turned and he’s moving onto proper interview etiquette Jae Joong raises the piece of paper he’s been scribbling on (it says ‘RESERVED’, complete with an artfully messy pair of mountainous boobs) they all just laugh harder.
two.
Even during the early training days, it’s easy to like Kim Jae Joong; epic, novel-length tangents and strange bonding rituals included.
“Yoochun-ah, let me lick you!”
Yoochun is across the dance studio in three steps. “Fuck off!” He warns, even though he’s giggling through his nose.
Jae Joong spreads his arms, attempts to look vaguely non-threatening in a completely unsuccessful way, “Yoochunnie,” he implores, “you’re so sexy!”
Changmin isn’t sure if it’s the appeal to his vanity or Jae Joong’s slightly put out expression that gets Jae Joong through the defenses but he’s up, up, up and licking a long, wet stripe across Yoochun’s neck. Yoochun moans dramatically, “Noooooo!”, sliding his way down Jae Joong’s legs and flopping corpse-like to the floor.
In the commotion, Changmin doesn’t realize he’s laughing until Jae Joong leans over to poke him in the cheek, “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”
Changmin turns his head and bites down (hard) on Jae Joong’s wandering finger. Throws the other boy a cheeky grin when he looks slightly flustered by the move. Something discernible shifts in Jae Joong’s eyes then, as if he’s seeing Changmin for the first time, as if he suddenly, inexorably, gets it.
He presses forward and licks a slimy trail along the line of Changmin’s nose.
“Ew.” Changmin says, wiping desperately at the wetness with his sweatshirt sleeve, “That’s disgusting.”
“Let’s go get something to eat.” Jae Joong answers brightly, the sun in his smile.
three.
The idea of personal boundaries and privacy lasts less than a week, dying a climatic early morning death about the same time Jae Joong struts into the kitchen in nothing but his underwear and says, “I think something’s wrong. Will you guys take a look?”
And then he’s naked and Yunho is spitting out his cereal and Changmin doesn’t quite know where he should be staring because there seems to be a lot to stare at.
“Pants.” Yunho states with majestic restraint, nearly turning it into an anthem, “Pants, pants, pants!”
Jae Joong looks appropriately scandalized by the lack of interest, “But it’s broken!”
“Pants!”
The one finger reply is probably deserved but Jae Joong retreats sullenly, muttering contemptuously about icky, no good envy, envy, envy leader-shi. In the shocked silence that follows, Yoochun spins his spoon between his fingers and announces triumphantly, “Mine’s bigger.”
four.
“I’m sweaty,” Changmin says to the door, “I’m a sweaty man. It’s important.”
“You could always join me,” singsongs the Jae Joong behind it.
“No.”
“Why not? I’ll wash your back.”
“No.”
“Changmin-ah!”
“I’m not getting naked and soapy with you. There needs to be a line. A big non-naked and soapy line.”
Jae Joong has mastered the long suffering sigh, “I won’t look.”
Changmin has mastered the stubborn, “You will too.”
“Will not.”
“Will too! You and Yoochun-hyung are terrible. Why don’t you just bring in the measuring tape with you and get it over with?”
Jae Joong changes tactics, moves onto the aggressive whine, “Minnie, take a shower with me.”
“No!”
The door flies open and Jae Joong is standing there; a shock of messy black hair and a tiny, tiny towel and Changmin is about to say finally when Jae Joong suddenly jumps forward and knocks Changmin toppling into the wall, hands fumbling towards the fly of his jeans.
And then it’s a genuine struggle (and another hole in the wall) that only ends when Junsu is drawn in from the bedroom by the unmanly shrieking. Which is how Changmin finds himself on the floor with a still wet Jae Joong perched on his stomach, Yoochun holding his wrists and Junsu yanking determinedly at a pant leg. “Hyung, that was my nipple!”
When Yunho comes around the corner, he blinks in sleepy slow motion, “Nobody told me that we were stripping Changmin.”
Junsu merely smiles at him, all sunshine and love and answers, “Grab his other leg, will you?”
five.
Yoochun and Changmin are sprawled out loose limbed on the couch watching a Japanese love story when Jae Joong climbs into Changmin’s lap, leans forward lazily until they’re nose to nose and says very calmly, “Why hello, Choikang Changmin.”
“Hello, Youngwoong Jae Joong,” Changmin answers placidly and they stare and stare and stare.
“Oh no,” Yoochun moans and pulls the blanket over his head just as it starts; arms and flailing legs and thump, thump, thud they’re on the floor. Jae Joong has found a permanent marker somewhere and the prospects are frankly terrifying.
They knock over a stack of manga, two plates of leftover natto and nearly destroy one of Yunho’s Cher cds before Jae Joong slips through Changmin’s arms and uses his upper body to flip the other man over and trap him between his thighs. Changmin digs his toes into the carpet and arches up desperately, hoping to push Jae Joong off but he lacks the leverage with his arms caught uncomfortably under him. Damn.
“Jae Joong-hyung?” He says cutely, widens his eyes to their fullest potential.
Jae Joong ignores him, popping the cap off the marker with his teeth.
Failed.
Changmin sits still and glares fire and brimstone until the damage is done. Jae Joong sticks his tongue out as he drags the marker tip carefully along Changmin’s cheeks, face furrowed in concentration as though he’s the next Picasso and this is somehow grand art. Yoochun leans forward to survey the results, squinting through the darkness, and when Jae Joong says “tada!” he keels over, red and laughing. No good could come of this.
“Whiskers suit you, Changminnie.” Yoochun drawls.
“I hate you all.” Changmin pouts, but Jae Joong is too busy trying to fashion his hair into cat shaped ears to really listen.
Apparently appeased, he sprawls out comfortably across Changmin; legs to the right, arms to the left. And Changmin thinks he should say move but the room is warm, warm and Jae Joong is warm, warm and everything smells like the katsudon they had for dinner.
Turning to the television, Jae Joong lays his head down on Changmin’s chest and yawns widely. Tip toes his fingertips along the other man’s collarbone, “Good kitty. Sit, stay.”
Yoochun is asleep by the time the movie has reached its climax, snoring through the ‘I love yous’ and the perfect moment when the hero and heroine link pinky fingers and walk off into their storybook lives. Something young and petulant uncurls itself painfully in Changmin’s chest at the sight.
And it’s clichéd, really. Changmin is pessimistic enough to know that it doesn’t work like that, that love is much more like a puzzle than a game of connect the dots, but he wishes that it could be that cut and dry. That he could catch maybe just a corner of some ridiculously idealistic happy ending and run right out of the business with it. He feels stupid and childish when he realizes he’s crying like a prepubescent teenage girl through the credits, tears sliding from his eyes and onto the carpet.
He lifts his hand to wipe at them but Jae Joong catches his wrist first, fingers squeezing down hard and thumb stroking softly against the skin. His head tilts upward and he smiles painfully, “Wimp.”
“I just…” Changmin whispers, closing his eyes but Jae Joong has rolled over and pushed himself up on his elbows. He leans down and his lips move gently over Changmin’s eyelids, taking the tears with him.
Changmin looks up, startled; then shivers down to his toes when he realizes that Jae Joong is staring at this mouth.
There’s a beat, maybe two, and then Jae Joong says, “Oh, whatever,” and kisses him hard; his hands tangling in Changmin’s hair and his tongue dragging itself liquid-slow along the roof of Changmin’s mouth. It’s clumsy and wet and oh, god, Changmin just opens up and takes it. Feels the tension melt out of his spine and soak into the floor.
“Oh,” Changmin murmurs when they pull apart, his heartbeat thundering in his own ears.
Jae Joong is smiling, is this okay? And Changmin wonders if he’s talking about the kiss or the everything but Jae Joong’s hand is sliding smoothly along Changmin’s shirt front and oh, yeah, it’s about the everything.
“Meow.” Jae Joong says, laughing quietly in the dark.
“Shut up and do that again.” Changmin answers.
six.
Another show, another interview and Changmin closes the bathroom door and kneels down, presses his palms into the cold tile. Takes a long, deep breath and then tries to take another as the panic ties knots in his chest and starts to strangle him. Not good enough.
He can hear the others in the kitchen, laughing and arguing good naturedly about which take-out restaurant has the most orgasmic bulgogi and there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room, not enough oxygen in the entire world. He feels all his well constructed walls threatening to cave in around him and he wonders if he can keep doing this, day after day, until the industry finally spits them out all wasted and empty.
The pain cramps hard in his stomach and for a horrifying moment Changmin thinks he’s going to be sick all over their stylish designer bathtub.
-- But then there’s a voice behind him whispering nonsense reassurances over and over and over and cold hands sliding up and down his back soothingly. The comforting, heavy weight of a head against the curve of his shoulder blades.
“Better, yeah?” Jae Joong says when the panic recedes, when Changmin can breathe again.
Changmin blinks at him and feels a strange, prickling heat pressing up behind his eyes. Oh shit, no, not that. Not now.
"I'm so sorry," he says dumbly and Jae Joong reaches forward, his fingers digging into Changmin’s shoulders hard enough to bruise and suddenly there's arms and legs and warmth all around him and Jae Joong’s accented Japanese saying, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay" like a soft, skipping record. He hangs on until the world makes sense again, until Jae Joong has reached the second chorus of "Balloons" and then harrumphs because he's forgotten Junsu’s part.
Changmin looks past him, past him to the door he knows he locked and Jae Joong holds up a credit card somewhat sheepishly. Changmin laughs, congested and hysterical; he’d forgotten the idea of doors had stopped existing after the first month.
seven.
Jae Joong has been on crutches for two weeks and every once and awhile he’ll stop to shake out his arms and grimace (for a split second, barely seen) but Changmin will ask, “Does it hurt?”
A nonchalant roll of shoulders, “A little, only a little.”
Changmin bends over to offer his back and Jae Joong smirks, poking Changmin in the ribs, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to ride you, Changmin.”
“Drop dead, hyung.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Jae Joong is heavy and a bit awkward but as they struggle down the stairs he leans forward and kisses the back of Changmin’s neck; a warm, welcome tickle of breath, “I love you, Changmin.”
“The Changmin is a strictly non-talking vehicle.”
“Oh, right,” Jae Joong answers knowingly and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. In the silence that follows Changmin can still feel the curve of a smile against his skin.
eight.
At night, his shoulders ache and the pain keeps him awake. Changmin vows to get stronger (much, much stronger) so that if the time ever comes he can carry them all the same way.
nine.
It’s four am, the others are dreaming of stages in the bedroom and Korea is sliding by kaleidoscope beneath them. Jae Joong follows him to the couch and they make out a bit, hands and lips and easiness. And it is easy, so damn easy that sometimes Changmin nearly chokes on the unfairness of it.
So when Jae Joong leans forward, mouth moving against the slope of Changmin’s throat, (“trust me”), he nods and tries very hard to keep from shaking.
The slick hand against him is cold, a little awkward, but the feeling after nearly breaks him; Jae Joong’s fingers curling up inside of him, stroking deep until Changmin presses down and begs for more and more, please, please please. It’s uncoordinated and strange, neither of them knowing exactly what to do, so Changmin wraps his legs around Jae Joong’s waist and Jae Joong brings their foreheads together so that when Changmin rocks his hips ungracefully, desperately, nothing else much matters.
“I need- “ Changmin tries, arching up. He doesn't know how to ask, will never know exactly how to ask.
“I know.” Jae Joong says and pushes him harder into the cushions.
The movement brings him close, pushes him over, and Changmin feels his mouth moving voicelessly as they find that place, that moment, when the whole world burns white.
“We had sex on the couch.” Changmin mutters later, as the air dries the skin between them. He feels a bit guilty.
Jae Joong’s expression has edges, a little demon grin, “I had been hoping for the table, actually.”
ten.
It’s dark and they are fumbling in a closet. Jae Joong’s lips whispering against Changmin’s, “This is going to be messy.”
“Good.” Changmin answers with all the soul shaking honesty he can muster, sliding his hand down the front of Jae Joong’s pants.
fin.
It's been two years since I've written anything. At times, recently, it's been like trying to dig to China with a spoon. ._____. I will work hard from now on. ♥