Gears
Title: Gears
Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: PG
Summary: Wufan surprises Yixing by asking him for a dance.
A/N: title has nothing to do with the fic. or maybe it does. idk i imagine the way kris interacting with members is, in my mind, like gears shifting and sliding together, nobs fitting into empty spaces and creating a properly managed machine. ... why does exo make me feer these things
fic might flow better if you listen to my lady on repeat. or don't. i'm starting a collaboration with my good friend to write an epic huge exo-m dark fic so i might not be posting like i have been over the past few days. but it's something to look forward to, trust me :)
The way Yixing moves with such care and precision, each movement measured and calculated to be executed without flaw, never fails to draw Wufan's attention. Like how Wufan sings along with Jongdae under his breath, Wufan finds his eyes following Yixing's body silently, and he knows his gaze is intense because Yixing catches sight of him in the mirror, the scuff of his sneaker leaving a black mark on the hard wood floor as he halts his movements abruptly in surprise.
“Yifan,” Yixing turns around so he can look at the real Wufan, not his reflection. “How long have you been there?”
Wufan hadn't been making an effort to hide himself, his towering body leaning casually in the door frame. But Yixing's tone is slightly accusing, like Wufan has been standing there too long, peeping in on something he shouldn't have been.
“Only a few minutes,” Wufan speaks the truth. He had initially came back to the practice room to make sure the members didn't leave anything behind, but was distracted when he realized that once again Yixing had been left behind.
No, not left behind.
Yixing always hangs back and works too hard for his own good.
“Can I dance with you?” Wufan asks.
The other boy is obviously a bit startled at the sudden question, as Wufan steps into the practice room and shuts the door behind him. Yixing offers an easy smile and nods, turning back to face the mirror as the blond finds a spot next to him. The music Yixing has been dancing to is on repeat in the background, loud enough to hear but quiet enough to hear the rustle of clothes over the melodies, quiet enough to hear the way Yixing's breathing changes when he falls into first position.
They wait for the song to start over again and Wufan isn't mimicking Yixing's routine perfectly; it's almost a lazy copy of the original, and Wufan's eyes are on Yixing's reflection the entire time. Their fingers snap, their feet glide, and Yixing is every ounce of passion that Wufan could never dedicate to his own dancing. The tempo picks up a bit and on every down beat Wufan finds his eyes slipping to Yixing's feet, not caring enough to dance the routine precisely but caring enough to make sure he was at least getting the steps right. Yixing looks like a stream in the woods as he dances, and Wufan finds he himself looks more like a roaring rapid crashing against jagged rocks.
The song ends but the loop restarts it, and they find first position easily enough, although Wufan's a bit closer to Yixing this time. Their hips swivel and Yixing is sensual as he puts a hand where his belt would be, if he were wearing something other than basketball shorts. Wufan's hand just rests on his lower abdomen, his long fingers splayed and palm too big for the narrow space.
Again, the song repeats, and this time Wufan is completely in Yixing's space. They fall into the routine, facing each other instead of the mirror, and Wufan puts a bit more effort into it now that Yixing's eyes are raking over his body, no doubt judging his lack of enthusiasm for Yixing's favorite craft. The song winds down and Wufan takes another step forward, and he's not one for improvising, especially when it comes to dancing, but he knows this routine just as well as Yixing and when their hands touch and they breathe the same air, the routine turns into a slowly intoxicating couple's dance. Wufan doesn't hold back, his hands running down Yixing's sides, looking still just as big but more at home as Yixing's body swivels into the press. Their feet complement each other, and even doing the same routine they never collide; they merely slide against each other, closer and closer with each lingering measure.
It ends with Wufan pressing Yixing against the mirror, his breath so hot and heavy that it fogs the glass behind Yixing's head as it washes over the shorter boy's neck. Their mouths meet and the song repeats again, the pickup slow, the refrains as sweet as the taste of Yixing's mouth. They're both slightly out of breath from doing the routine four or five times in a row, Wufan especially out of shape, and even against the mirror their lower halves are moving to the song that has once again started, pressing against each other with the rhythm.
Wufan's nibbling on Yixing's lower lip with the care of a practiced lover, the mood of the song making his hands soft and his normally ferocious attack marginally sweeter. He feels Yixing melt down the glass of the mirror and Wufan holds him up easily, breaking the kiss and pulling Yixing back to the center of the room, their feet automatically carrying the steps of the routine. It's romantic and it's unlike anything Wufan has ever experienced before, and yet everything he's wanted to experience.
This time when the song ends, Yixing reaches his foot out to kick his toe against the power button of the CD player. The music stops and the room is stifled in silence punctuated only by their heady breathing; Wufan's smile is small as he lets go of Yixing and bends down to pick up the dancer's track jacket off of the floor, causing Yixing to arch a brow at him.
“I came back to make sure no one forgot anything.” Wufan holds up the jacket as way of explanation. Yixing knows that he probably would have left it behind without a second thought.
Yixing laughs, the sound soft and just as melodious as the music they had just been dancing to. “You sure you didn't come back to get what you forgot?”
Wufan understands, and he had known that Yixing would say something like that. He tosses the jacket at Yixing and heads to the door, fingers hovering over the light switch as he waits for Yixing to follow him.
“I'll always come back for you,” the leader says with a soft breath as Yixing walks past him. Yixing's fingers skirt Wufan's hip in understanding, and the blond flicks the lights off and shuts the door to the room, leaving it in darkness.
The only thing visible is the patch of condensation left behind on the mirror from Wufan's breath, glistening in the moonlight that shines in from the window.
There's an echo of the song they danced to, the notes clinging to the air and the shadows.
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Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: PG
Summary: Wufan surprises Yixing by asking him for a dance.
A/N: title has nothing to do with the fic. or maybe it does. idk i imagine the way kris interacting with members is, in my mind, like gears shifting and sliding together, nobs fitting into empty spaces and creating a properly managed machine. ... why does exo make me feer these things
fic might flow better if you listen to my lady on repeat. or don't. i'm starting a collaboration with my good friend to write an epic huge exo-m dark fic so i might not be posting like i have been over the past few days. but it's something to look forward to, trust me :)
The way Yixing moves with such care and precision, each movement measured and calculated to be executed without flaw, never fails to draw Wufan's attention. Like how Wufan sings along with Jongdae under his breath, Wufan finds his eyes following Yixing's body silently, and he knows his gaze is intense because Yixing catches sight of him in the mirror, the scuff of his sneaker leaving a black mark on the hard wood floor as he halts his movements abruptly in surprise.
“Yifan,” Yixing turns around so he can look at the real Wufan, not his reflection. “How long have you been there?”
Wufan hadn't been making an effort to hide himself, his towering body leaning casually in the door frame. But Yixing's tone is slightly accusing, like Wufan has been standing there too long, peeping in on something he shouldn't have been.
“Only a few minutes,” Wufan speaks the truth. He had initially came back to the practice room to make sure the members didn't leave anything behind, but was distracted when he realized that once again Yixing had been left behind.
No, not left behind.
Yixing always hangs back and works too hard for his own good.
“Can I dance with you?” Wufan asks.
The other boy is obviously a bit startled at the sudden question, as Wufan steps into the practice room and shuts the door behind him. Yixing offers an easy smile and nods, turning back to face the mirror as the blond finds a spot next to him. The music Yixing has been dancing to is on repeat in the background, loud enough to hear but quiet enough to hear the rustle of clothes over the melodies, quiet enough to hear the way Yixing's breathing changes when he falls into first position.
They wait for the song to start over again and Wufan isn't mimicking Yixing's routine perfectly; it's almost a lazy copy of the original, and Wufan's eyes are on Yixing's reflection the entire time. Their fingers snap, their feet glide, and Yixing is every ounce of passion that Wufan could never dedicate to his own dancing. The tempo picks up a bit and on every down beat Wufan finds his eyes slipping to Yixing's feet, not caring enough to dance the routine precisely but caring enough to make sure he was at least getting the steps right. Yixing looks like a stream in the woods as he dances, and Wufan finds he himself looks more like a roaring rapid crashing against jagged rocks.
The song ends but the loop restarts it, and they find first position easily enough, although Wufan's a bit closer to Yixing this time. Their hips swivel and Yixing is sensual as he puts a hand where his belt would be, if he were wearing something other than basketball shorts. Wufan's hand just rests on his lower abdomen, his long fingers splayed and palm too big for the narrow space.
Again, the song repeats, and this time Wufan is completely in Yixing's space. They fall into the routine, facing each other instead of the mirror, and Wufan puts a bit more effort into it now that Yixing's eyes are raking over his body, no doubt judging his lack of enthusiasm for Yixing's favorite craft. The song winds down and Wufan takes another step forward, and he's not one for improvising, especially when it comes to dancing, but he knows this routine just as well as Yixing and when their hands touch and they breathe the same air, the routine turns into a slowly intoxicating couple's dance. Wufan doesn't hold back, his hands running down Yixing's sides, looking still just as big but more at home as Yixing's body swivels into the press. Their feet complement each other, and even doing the same routine they never collide; they merely slide against each other, closer and closer with each lingering measure.
It ends with Wufan pressing Yixing against the mirror, his breath so hot and heavy that it fogs the glass behind Yixing's head as it washes over the shorter boy's neck. Their mouths meet and the song repeats again, the pickup slow, the refrains as sweet as the taste of Yixing's mouth. They're both slightly out of breath from doing the routine four or five times in a row, Wufan especially out of shape, and even against the mirror their lower halves are moving to the song that has once again started, pressing against each other with the rhythm.
Wufan's nibbling on Yixing's lower lip with the care of a practiced lover, the mood of the song making his hands soft and his normally ferocious attack marginally sweeter. He feels Yixing melt down the glass of the mirror and Wufan holds him up easily, breaking the kiss and pulling Yixing back to the center of the room, their feet automatically carrying the steps of the routine. It's romantic and it's unlike anything Wufan has ever experienced before, and yet everything he's wanted to experience.
This time when the song ends, Yixing reaches his foot out to kick his toe against the power button of the CD player. The music stops and the room is stifled in silence punctuated only by their heady breathing; Wufan's smile is small as he lets go of Yixing and bends down to pick up the dancer's track jacket off of the floor, causing Yixing to arch a brow at him.
“I came back to make sure no one forgot anything.” Wufan holds up the jacket as way of explanation. Yixing knows that he probably would have left it behind without a second thought.
Yixing laughs, the sound soft and just as melodious as the music they had just been dancing to. “You sure you didn't come back to get what you forgot?”
Wufan understands, and he had known that Yixing would say something like that. He tosses the jacket at Yixing and heads to the door, fingers hovering over the light switch as he waits for Yixing to follow him.
“I'll always come back for you,” the leader says with a soft breath as Yixing walks past him. Yixing's fingers skirt Wufan's hip in understanding, and the blond flicks the lights off and shuts the door to the room, leaving it in darkness.
The only thing visible is the patch of condensation left behind on the mirror from Wufan's breath, glistening in the moonlight that shines in from the window.
There's an echo of the song they danced to, the notes clinging to the air and the shadows.
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