Midnight and Dawn (5/13)
Title: Midnight and Dawn (5/13)
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
V.
Jungmo takes Heechul to a restaurant in Itaewon which is loaded with tourists and sappy-looking couples gazing disgustingly into each other’s eyes. Heechul orders the most expensive dish for every course, but picks sadly at the lava cake when it comes. “This is five hundred calories a slice,” he moans.
Jungmo stares. “You realize that you ordered, that, right? Like when I asked are you sure you won’t regret this, Heechul? you just told me to make sure I had enough money on me.”
“Do you?”
“Obviously,” Jungmo sniffs. “But you’d better finish it.”
Heechul prods at the slice with his fork. “There is probably butter and sugar and egg and flour and--”
“Oh fine, don’t eat the cake.”
“I’ll get fat. I’ll get fat and ugly and they’ll make me work in Vice like Shindong.”
“I’ll still take you out on dates,” Jungmo offers.
“You clearly don’t have standards.”
Jungmo signals for the check. “No. I don’t. I’m taking my senior partner out to dinner because he kissed me while watching a fucking boyband perform on daytime television. This guy spent three months tormenting me for fun, ruined a good suit, scarred me for life, and yet, somehow, I still fell for him.”
“Fell for him, huh?”
Jungmo flushes. “Yeah, well.”
“For what, exactly? I love compliments.”
“Not for your personality,” Jungmo jokes, handing the waiter his card. “Probably for your looks.”
Heechul preens. “I know, I’m pretty.”
“Almost like a girl, really.”
Heechul drops his fork. “Right,” he says, mind blurring. He blinks the discomfort away. This has been happening all evening, he thinks, biting at his lip. Why--
“--you coming? Or am I leaving you here?”
Heechul shakes his head and stands, shooting the lava cake a wistful farewell glance before following Jungmo out to the car.
“Even on my days off I still have to drive your ass around everywhere,” Jungmo laughs, sliding into the driver’s seat of his banged-up silver Hyundai.
“This is not exactly the same kind of luxurious ride I have, you realize.” Heechul buckles his seatbelt.
“And I feel infinitely less anxious about crashing it.”
“Always about you, isn’t it?”
“Ha! That’s rich.”
“Drive, plebe. Drive!”
“Yes, Highness.”
--
Jungmo pulls up easily next to the curb. It’s late, lights peppering on in houses down the street, lamplight pinpricks dotting the asphalt. Jungmo gets out and opens Heechul’s door for him. Heechul smiles up at him and offers his hand.
“Are you aiming for another kiss,” Heechul asks slyly when he’s out of the car, standing all too near Jungmo, listening to him breathe. “Or did you want to come in?”
“For a hot drink?”
“Don’t be stupid. For something slightly hotter than that.” Heechul leans forward and kisses him softly at first, lips parting and heat skittering down his arms. Heechul shivers--it’s a chilly November evening. He fists his hands in Jungmo’s hair and steps back teasingly, trailing his palm down Jungmo’s neck, around the curve of his shoulder, palming his chest.
“Not exactly what I meant when I asked you out for dinner,” Jungmo mutters, but he steps closer, hands moving up to grab at Heechul’s arms.
“I don’t see you complaining.” Heechul lets Jungmo catch his fingers in the holes of his knit top, tangling helplessly in the fabric. His shirt skims the bottom of his jeans and then rides up a bit higher, exposing a thin strip of skin along his stomach which clenches uncomfortably, flinching against the weather.
“As much as I’d like to continue, I’m not really interested in giving my neighbors a free show.” Heechul grins. “You’re the one that bought me dinner.”
“So this is payback?”
“Of a sort.” Heechul fumbles for his keys, twists open the lock, and then finds himself pinned to the other side of the door, wrists crossed over his head and held there by one of Jungmo’s hands.
And Jungmo leans in again--his mouth is hot and tastes of melted chocolate and Heechul feels fingers crawling up the back of his shirt, reaching desperately, pressing gently against his spine, nails curling down. He tugs at Jungmo’s grasp and finds it unyielding. Hot, he thinks, and then finds that he can’t think when Jungmo cants into him, hand firmly holding Heechul up, straight, completely unmoving. Heechul keens and tries to grind up against Jungmo’s hips, but Jungmo steps back, letting go.
“In your hallway, Heechul? Really?” Jungmo’s lips are puffy and his breath is uneven. Heechul grabs at his dress shirt.
“Bedroom, then? Romantic enough for you?”
“Traditional, more like.” They stumble down the hallway and Heechul pulls him through a door to their right, flicking on a small lamp.
“Traditional?” Heechul laughs. “I’m about to unzip your jeans with my teeth and lick at your cock through your underwear before giving you the blowjob of your life. And you’ll be sitting in my bedroom, pants around your knees, shirt still on, fisting at my hair. I really don’t think ‘traditional’ is the word you’re going for.”
Jungmo swallows. “With your--”
“Teeth.” Heechul pushes him onto the edge of his bed and gets to his knees to demonstrate. Adrenaline courses through his chest as he watches Jungmo twist when Heechul palms at his cock, fingers tightening in his bedclothes. Jungmo’s long fingers, lean upper body on Heechul’s bed.
His jeans feel a size tighter.
Heechul curls back his lips, taking the zipper delicately between his front incisors, tugging gently. His nose brushes against the outline of Jungmo’s cock, hard and straining against the fabric.
“I’m that good-looking, I guess,” he mutters when he’s done, pulling the jeans off Jungmo’s hips, teasing at the elastic of his boxers. The pads of his fingers brush the outline of his underwear, tracing at the dark line of hair threading from navel to groin. “And you’re not a natural blond.”
“Heechul,” Jungmo whines. “Stop talking.”
Jungmo’s boxers are loose at the bottom, Heechul trails a hand up the inside of his thigh through the fabric, rubbing softly. “But don’t you like it when I talk? Or would you rather I do something else, like see how far I can take you. Maybe swallow if you’re big enough.”
“Heechul--”
Heechul’s fingers circle Jungmo’s cock and he starts sliding them down lightly, twisting downwards softly, curling in at the head and stopping.
“Harder?”
Jungmo gasps. “Yes, fuck, yes.”
Heechul tightens his grip and swivels his hand up again through Jungmo’s underwear. “Are you going to come in your pants, Jungmo? Is that traditional enough for you?”
Jungmo bucks desperately into Heechul’s hand. “Heechul--”
Heechul tightens his fingers. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
“My name. Jungmo--you never call me--”
“Jungmo,” Heechul hisses, leaning forward, face hovering over the tented fabric. “I am about to suck you off through your underwear. Just so you know. You can write that down in your book.” And Heechul opens his mouth, licks experimentally at the fabric, and breathes deeply into the fabric bunched around the head.
Jungmo’s boxers are slightly damp and salted with sweat, but Heechul presses down with his lips and tongue and draws patterns through the cotton, hand still fisting at the shaft. Jungmo moans breathily, hands leaving the bedsheets and entangling in Heechul’s hair, tugging viciously. Jungmo’s intensity sends sparks of arousal down to Heechul’s groin, and he licks more eagerly, appreciatively, coating the fabric with slick spit and sucking gently. He mouths at the bulge, moving his lips to create more friction.
Jungmo’s fingers stiffen a moment before he comes, whining shrilly as sticky warmth fills the inside of his boxers. Heechul slides his hands down Jungmo’s cock one final time, slicking up his palm with come.
“Traditional, huh?” He licks at his fingers, helplessly turned on by the way Jungmo watches, eyes wide, mouth open. Heechul’s not particularly fond of swallowing, but the look in Jungmo’s eyes is well worth the distaste.
“I think I need another pair of underwear,” Jungmo says weakly after a moment.
Heechul shrugs. “You can clean up in the bathroom and just stay here for the night.” He gets up and sits next to Jungmo, palming at his erection. “But. First.”
Jungmo nods. “Lube?”
“Bedside cabinet. Top drawer.”
Jungmo slicks up his hand as Heechul wriggles out of his skinny jeans, but Jungmo stops him when he moves to take off his shirt.
“I like the netting,” he says by way of explanation, one hand closing over Heechul’s cock, arm stretched out against it. Heechul cants softly into it, feeling the underside of his cock travel along the length of Jungmo’s wrist, and he shudders at the varying texture. Jungmo pauses and carefully travels further back, fingers massaging gently around Heechul’s balls, softly rolling them between two fingers.
“Fuck,” Heechul gasps, leaning into him. Jungmo trails his other arm around Heechul, fingers sliding up his back, tangling in the netting, mouth moving into to suck lightly at the base of his throat.
I’ll have marks, Heechul thinks. The thought is enthralling.
Jungmo sucks harder, and twists back down Heechul’s cock, slick and smooth and wrist snapping. His hand is rough, his wrist soft, and Heechul finds that he’s twitching after what feels like just a few minutes, toes curling into the carpet, eyes rolling back. With a sharper grip, Jungmo slicks up and down one last time, and Heechul comes, sinking bonelessly into Jungmo’s chest.
“I have to get up,” Jungmo says finally, breath tickling at Heechul’s ear. “I have come on my hands and in my underwear.”
“Lick at it?”
Jungmo laughs, and his chest vibrates. Heechul clings to the warmth. “I want to clean up. Move, you lazy bastard.”
“Towels are in the wicker bin. I won’t tell you where the clothes are. Come back to me naked. With a wipe. I’m also sticky.”
Jungmo slides out from underneath Heechul’s body, and Heechul wriggles up the bedsheets, too lazy to get up. He grabs his nightshirt from under the bed and slips into it, chucking his knit top on the floor.
“I thought you wanted me naked?”
Heechul sniffs. “I don’t sleep naked.”
Jungmo climbs into bed, pressing a damp cloth between Heechul’s legs, under his long shirt. Heechul’s cock is still sensitive, and he winces at the sensation. “Now your hand,” Jungmo says softly. Heechul obliges.
Jungmo puts the towel on Heechul’s bedside table when he’s done, turning to nip gently at Heechul’s neck.
“I won’t be able to sleep like this,” Heechul whines.
“Don’t care.” Jungmo sucks on a particularly soft bit of skin, and Heechul arches.
“Jungmo. Jungmo Jungmo Jungmo.”
--
Heechul wakes to Jungmo nosing along the crook of Heechul’s neck, dropping kisses where his nightshirt has slipped off of his shoulder. Heechul cracks an eye open, tilting his head to see Jungmo looking up at him through his sleep-matted blond fringe.
“Watching me sleep or something?”
“Maybe.” Jungmo props his chin on Heechul’s shoulder. “You look very innocent when you’re sleeping. Which is to say, nothing like yourself.”
Heechul pushes at Jungmo’s forehead with the heel of his hand. “I am always innocent. No one has ever proven that I’ve been the one sending hate mail to Traffic.” He pauses. “Not that I’m admitting it.”
“I think I heard Sekyung say she’s got a whole folder of those letters. They’re supposedly pretty hilarious, for being full of vitriol and all.”
“Of course. I’m always hilarious.”
“I thought you said you weren’t admitting to anything.”
Heechul grins. “If you bring me to court, I won’t be able to fuck you.”
“Well, in that case,” Jungmo says, lifting his head to kiss Heechul, “it’ll be our little secret. Plus I think everyone knows already anyway.”
“Maybe.” Heechul curls into Jungmo, licking at the corner of his mouth, fingers gliding gently over the planes of his chest. After he moment, he pauses. “What time is it?”
Jungmo rolls over to look at Heechul’s alarm clock. “Almost noon. Why?”
Heechul almost vaults out of bed. “MBC rerun hour! I almost missed it? How could you do that to me?”
Jungmo stares. “Wait. Is this what you do all Sunday?”
“Well obviously. I always have to stay caught up on the latest gossip, or my netizen insights on message boards and fancafes will be ignored in favor of someone better connected.”
“What insights? You don’t even know any celebrities.”
“Details. No one can ever tell, promise.”
“Right. Well.” Jungmo sits up, sifting a hand through his hair. “Now that I’ve lost a bit more faith in your humanity, do you have a pair of boxers I can borrow or something?”
“Armoire, top left.”
Jungmo climbs out of bed, stretching his arms over his head for a moment before walking over to the armoire and pulling open one of the drawers, grabbing a pair at random.
“Only briefs, Heechul?”
“Black briefs. I do obey the dress code sometimes.”
Jungmo slips them on, wriggling to get comfortable. “Heechul, these are really tight.”
Heechul hums. “And your ass looks really good in them.”
“Don’t you need to get up and crawl over to the television right about now?”
“Carry me, slave.”
Jungmo almost drops his shirt. “If you were anyone else, I’d ask if you were kidding me. But of course you aren’t.”
“Deposit me in the living room and make me coffee. Then leave. You’ll only talk over all of the best parts.”
Jungmo laughs, shuffling over to Heechul’s side of the bed, grabbing at his shoulders. “You’re too thin. What drama series is it this week?”
He smells like sex. “‘Boys Over Flowers.’”
“Isn’t that a show for teenage girls?” Jungmo slides his arms under Heechul’s back and knees, and lifts.
“I’ll bite you.”
“I’ll drop you.”
Heechul sniffs and crosses his ankles. “You wouldn’t. It would be another reason never to sleep with you again.”
“There are other reasons?”
“Do you need to add them to your list?”
“I’m just saying, you didn’t have any complaints last night when you were thrashing and moaning my name just because of a few kisses. And getting hard just because of a handjob? Heechul, please.”
Heechul arches up just as Jungmo puts him down on the couch, mouth fastening on his ear. “I’m not wearing underwear. We can test how quickly I can get hard by sucking you off.”
“Much as I love the idea of ruining another pair of briefs, I really don’t feel like being yelled at because somehow I made you miss your drama.”
“Lee Minho is hot,” Heechul says. “Right. Off to the kitchen! Make that coffee!”
“Half milk, three Splendas?” Jungmo grins.
“I cannot believe you had to ask that. How many coffees have you made me in three months? Clearly not enough. I need to start working you harder.”
Jungmo walks into kitchen; Heechul swears he’s swaying his hips more than is necessary, but the way Jungmo’s ass fits into his trousers is worth it. He returns after a few minutes, coffee in hand.
“You should bring that thing into work,” Jungmo says, handing Heechul the mug. “Save me some time. I spend at least an hour getting you coffee every day. You know, considering you make me brew a new pot every time you want a refill.”
Heechul gasps. “Share my Keurig? You must be crazy.”
“Must be.” Jungmo bends, picking up his jacket from the living room floor and hefting it over a shoulder. “Well, I’m off.”
Heechul waves distractedly, eyes fixed on Junpyo’s timely rescue of Jandi from the Evil Bullies. He wrings his hands in his nightshirt as they bicker and Junpyo cleans the flour off of her uniform, carefully bandaging her cuts.
Jungmo coughs. “That’s it? No kiss goodbye?”
“Goodbyes are always awkward,” Heechul shouts over the background music. “We’ll see each other eventually. Just go.”
The door closes, and Heechul snuggles into the couch, holding a pillow to his chest. Junpyo kisses Jandi on the forehead, whirls her away to New Caledonia, and the episode ends.
Heechul makes himself another cup of coffee before stumbling into the shower, ignoring his phone. He doesn’t usually answer calls on his days off, regardless of how desperately Hyukjae might want his opinion on a tactical move, and it isn’t Donghae’s special ringtone, three chimes and a ding that Heechul will always drop anything to answer. The texts keep coming throughout the afternoon, and just before Inkigayo starts they start turning into phone calls. Heechul answers after the second missed call.
“What?. Inkigayo’s on in five minutes, I don’t have time for this.”
“You fucker, why don’t you ever answer your phone? I texted you, like, five times.”
Heechul snickers, recognizing the voice. “Jungmo, I never answer my phone on my day off. And besides, you of all people should know that the traditional thing is to wait three days before calling.”
“You are never going to let me forget I said that, are you.”
“Nope. But. I’m free on Friday night, if you were wondering. You should take me to the cinema.”
Jungmo laughs, the sound low and comforting. “Pick you up at eight?”
“I’ll meet you there. I hate your car.”
“I’ll make a note.” Heechul can almost feel Jungmo smiling through the phone. “See you tomorrow, then.”
→ VI
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
V.
Jungmo takes Heechul to a restaurant in Itaewon which is loaded with tourists and sappy-looking couples gazing disgustingly into each other’s eyes. Heechul orders the most expensive dish for every course, but picks sadly at the lava cake when it comes. “This is five hundred calories a slice,” he moans.
Jungmo stares. “You realize that you ordered, that, right? Like when I asked are you sure you won’t regret this, Heechul? you just told me to make sure I had enough money on me.”
“Do you?”
“Obviously,” Jungmo sniffs. “But you’d better finish it.”
Heechul prods at the slice with his fork. “There is probably butter and sugar and egg and flour and--”
“Oh fine, don’t eat the cake.”
“I’ll get fat. I’ll get fat and ugly and they’ll make me work in Vice like Shindong.”
“I’ll still take you out on dates,” Jungmo offers.
“You clearly don’t have standards.”
Jungmo signals for the check. “No. I don’t. I’m taking my senior partner out to dinner because he kissed me while watching a fucking boyband perform on daytime television. This guy spent three months tormenting me for fun, ruined a good suit, scarred me for life, and yet, somehow, I still fell for him.”
“Fell for him, huh?”
Jungmo flushes. “Yeah, well.”
“For what, exactly? I love compliments.”
“Not for your personality,” Jungmo jokes, handing the waiter his card. “Probably for your looks.”
Heechul preens. “I know, I’m pretty.”
“Almost like a girl, really.”
Heechul drops his fork. “Right,” he says, mind blurring. He blinks the discomfort away. This has been happening all evening, he thinks, biting at his lip. Why--
“--you coming? Or am I leaving you here?”
Heechul shakes his head and stands, shooting the lava cake a wistful farewell glance before following Jungmo out to the car.
“Even on my days off I still have to drive your ass around everywhere,” Jungmo laughs, sliding into the driver’s seat of his banged-up silver Hyundai.
“This is not exactly the same kind of luxurious ride I have, you realize.” Heechul buckles his seatbelt.
“And I feel infinitely less anxious about crashing it.”
“Always about you, isn’t it?”
“Ha! That’s rich.”
“Drive, plebe. Drive!”
“Yes, Highness.”
--
Jungmo pulls up easily next to the curb. It’s late, lights peppering on in houses down the street, lamplight pinpricks dotting the asphalt. Jungmo gets out and opens Heechul’s door for him. Heechul smiles up at him and offers his hand.
“Are you aiming for another kiss,” Heechul asks slyly when he’s out of the car, standing all too near Jungmo, listening to him breathe. “Or did you want to come in?”
“For a hot drink?”
“Don’t be stupid. For something slightly hotter than that.” Heechul leans forward and kisses him softly at first, lips parting and heat skittering down his arms. Heechul shivers--it’s a chilly November evening. He fists his hands in Jungmo’s hair and steps back teasingly, trailing his palm down Jungmo’s neck, around the curve of his shoulder, palming his chest.
“Not exactly what I meant when I asked you out for dinner,” Jungmo mutters, but he steps closer, hands moving up to grab at Heechul’s arms.
“I don’t see you complaining.” Heechul lets Jungmo catch his fingers in the holes of his knit top, tangling helplessly in the fabric. His shirt skims the bottom of his jeans and then rides up a bit higher, exposing a thin strip of skin along his stomach which clenches uncomfortably, flinching against the weather.
“As much as I’d like to continue, I’m not really interested in giving my neighbors a free show.” Heechul grins. “You’re the one that bought me dinner.”
“So this is payback?”
“Of a sort.” Heechul fumbles for his keys, twists open the lock, and then finds himself pinned to the other side of the door, wrists crossed over his head and held there by one of Jungmo’s hands.
And Jungmo leans in again--his mouth is hot and tastes of melted chocolate and Heechul feels fingers crawling up the back of his shirt, reaching desperately, pressing gently against his spine, nails curling down. He tugs at Jungmo’s grasp and finds it unyielding. Hot, he thinks, and then finds that he can’t think when Jungmo cants into him, hand firmly holding Heechul up, straight, completely unmoving. Heechul keens and tries to grind up against Jungmo’s hips, but Jungmo steps back, letting go.
“In your hallway, Heechul? Really?” Jungmo’s lips are puffy and his breath is uneven. Heechul grabs at his dress shirt.
“Bedroom, then? Romantic enough for you?”
“Traditional, more like.” They stumble down the hallway and Heechul pulls him through a door to their right, flicking on a small lamp.
“Traditional?” Heechul laughs. “I’m about to unzip your jeans with my teeth and lick at your cock through your underwear before giving you the blowjob of your life. And you’ll be sitting in my bedroom, pants around your knees, shirt still on, fisting at my hair. I really don’t think ‘traditional’ is the word you’re going for.”
Jungmo swallows. “With your--”
“Teeth.” Heechul pushes him onto the edge of his bed and gets to his knees to demonstrate. Adrenaline courses through his chest as he watches Jungmo twist when Heechul palms at his cock, fingers tightening in his bedclothes. Jungmo’s long fingers, lean upper body on Heechul’s bed.
His jeans feel a size tighter.
Heechul curls back his lips, taking the zipper delicately between his front incisors, tugging gently. His nose brushes against the outline of Jungmo’s cock, hard and straining against the fabric.
“I’m that good-looking, I guess,” he mutters when he’s done, pulling the jeans off Jungmo’s hips, teasing at the elastic of his boxers. The pads of his fingers brush the outline of his underwear, tracing at the dark line of hair threading from navel to groin. “And you’re not a natural blond.”
“Heechul,” Jungmo whines. “Stop talking.”
Jungmo’s boxers are loose at the bottom, Heechul trails a hand up the inside of his thigh through the fabric, rubbing softly. “But don’t you like it when I talk? Or would you rather I do something else, like see how far I can take you. Maybe swallow if you’re big enough.”
“Heechul--”
Heechul’s fingers circle Jungmo’s cock and he starts sliding them down lightly, twisting downwards softly, curling in at the head and stopping.
“Harder?”
Jungmo gasps. “Yes, fuck, yes.”
Heechul tightens his grip and swivels his hand up again through Jungmo’s underwear. “Are you going to come in your pants, Jungmo? Is that traditional enough for you?”
Jungmo bucks desperately into Heechul’s hand. “Heechul--”
Heechul tightens his fingers. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
“My name. Jungmo--you never call me--”
“Jungmo,” Heechul hisses, leaning forward, face hovering over the tented fabric. “I am about to suck you off through your underwear. Just so you know. You can write that down in your book.” And Heechul opens his mouth, licks experimentally at the fabric, and breathes deeply into the fabric bunched around the head.
Jungmo’s boxers are slightly damp and salted with sweat, but Heechul presses down with his lips and tongue and draws patterns through the cotton, hand still fisting at the shaft. Jungmo moans breathily, hands leaving the bedsheets and entangling in Heechul’s hair, tugging viciously. Jungmo’s intensity sends sparks of arousal down to Heechul’s groin, and he licks more eagerly, appreciatively, coating the fabric with slick spit and sucking gently. He mouths at the bulge, moving his lips to create more friction.
Jungmo’s fingers stiffen a moment before he comes, whining shrilly as sticky warmth fills the inside of his boxers. Heechul slides his hands down Jungmo’s cock one final time, slicking up his palm with come.
“Traditional, huh?” He licks at his fingers, helplessly turned on by the way Jungmo watches, eyes wide, mouth open. Heechul’s not particularly fond of swallowing, but the look in Jungmo’s eyes is well worth the distaste.
“I think I need another pair of underwear,” Jungmo says weakly after a moment.
Heechul shrugs. “You can clean up in the bathroom and just stay here for the night.” He gets up and sits next to Jungmo, palming at his erection. “But. First.”
Jungmo nods. “Lube?”
“Bedside cabinet. Top drawer.”
Jungmo slicks up his hand as Heechul wriggles out of his skinny jeans, but Jungmo stops him when he moves to take off his shirt.
“I like the netting,” he says by way of explanation, one hand closing over Heechul’s cock, arm stretched out against it. Heechul cants softly into it, feeling the underside of his cock travel along the length of Jungmo’s wrist, and he shudders at the varying texture. Jungmo pauses and carefully travels further back, fingers massaging gently around Heechul’s balls, softly rolling them between two fingers.
“Fuck,” Heechul gasps, leaning into him. Jungmo trails his other arm around Heechul, fingers sliding up his back, tangling in the netting, mouth moving into to suck lightly at the base of his throat.
I’ll have marks, Heechul thinks. The thought is enthralling.
Jungmo sucks harder, and twists back down Heechul’s cock, slick and smooth and wrist snapping. His hand is rough, his wrist soft, and Heechul finds that he’s twitching after what feels like just a few minutes, toes curling into the carpet, eyes rolling back. With a sharper grip, Jungmo slicks up and down one last time, and Heechul comes, sinking bonelessly into Jungmo’s chest.
“I have to get up,” Jungmo says finally, breath tickling at Heechul’s ear. “I have come on my hands and in my underwear.”
“Lick at it?”
Jungmo laughs, and his chest vibrates. Heechul clings to the warmth. “I want to clean up. Move, you lazy bastard.”
“Towels are in the wicker bin. I won’t tell you where the clothes are. Come back to me naked. With a wipe. I’m also sticky.”
Jungmo slides out from underneath Heechul’s body, and Heechul wriggles up the bedsheets, too lazy to get up. He grabs his nightshirt from under the bed and slips into it, chucking his knit top on the floor.
“I thought you wanted me naked?”
Heechul sniffs. “I don’t sleep naked.”
Jungmo climbs into bed, pressing a damp cloth between Heechul’s legs, under his long shirt. Heechul’s cock is still sensitive, and he winces at the sensation. “Now your hand,” Jungmo says softly. Heechul obliges.
Jungmo puts the towel on Heechul’s bedside table when he’s done, turning to nip gently at Heechul’s neck.
“I won’t be able to sleep like this,” Heechul whines.
“Don’t care.” Jungmo sucks on a particularly soft bit of skin, and Heechul arches.
“Jungmo. Jungmo Jungmo Jungmo.”
--
Heechul wakes to Jungmo nosing along the crook of Heechul’s neck, dropping kisses where his nightshirt has slipped off of his shoulder. Heechul cracks an eye open, tilting his head to see Jungmo looking up at him through his sleep-matted blond fringe.
“Watching me sleep or something?”
“Maybe.” Jungmo props his chin on Heechul’s shoulder. “You look very innocent when you’re sleeping. Which is to say, nothing like yourself.”
Heechul pushes at Jungmo’s forehead with the heel of his hand. “I am always innocent. No one has ever proven that I’ve been the one sending hate mail to Traffic.” He pauses. “Not that I’m admitting it.”
“I think I heard Sekyung say she’s got a whole folder of those letters. They’re supposedly pretty hilarious, for being full of vitriol and all.”
“Of course. I’m always hilarious.”
“I thought you said you weren’t admitting to anything.”
Heechul grins. “If you bring me to court, I won’t be able to fuck you.”
“Well, in that case,” Jungmo says, lifting his head to kiss Heechul, “it’ll be our little secret. Plus I think everyone knows already anyway.”
“Maybe.” Heechul curls into Jungmo, licking at the corner of his mouth, fingers gliding gently over the planes of his chest. After he moment, he pauses. “What time is it?”
Jungmo rolls over to look at Heechul’s alarm clock. “Almost noon. Why?”
Heechul almost vaults out of bed. “MBC rerun hour! I almost missed it? How could you do that to me?”
Jungmo stares. “Wait. Is this what you do all Sunday?”
“Well obviously. I always have to stay caught up on the latest gossip, or my netizen insights on message boards and fancafes will be ignored in favor of someone better connected.”
“What insights? You don’t even know any celebrities.”
“Details. No one can ever tell, promise.”
“Right. Well.” Jungmo sits up, sifting a hand through his hair. “Now that I’ve lost a bit more faith in your humanity, do you have a pair of boxers I can borrow or something?”
“Armoire, top left.”
Jungmo climbs out of bed, stretching his arms over his head for a moment before walking over to the armoire and pulling open one of the drawers, grabbing a pair at random.
“Only briefs, Heechul?”
“Black briefs. I do obey the dress code sometimes.”
Jungmo slips them on, wriggling to get comfortable. “Heechul, these are really tight.”
Heechul hums. “And your ass looks really good in them.”
“Don’t you need to get up and crawl over to the television right about now?”
“Carry me, slave.”
Jungmo almost drops his shirt. “If you were anyone else, I’d ask if you were kidding me. But of course you aren’t.”
“Deposit me in the living room and make me coffee. Then leave. You’ll only talk over all of the best parts.”
Jungmo laughs, shuffling over to Heechul’s side of the bed, grabbing at his shoulders. “You’re too thin. What drama series is it this week?”
He smells like sex. “‘Boys Over Flowers.’”
“Isn’t that a show for teenage girls?” Jungmo slides his arms under Heechul’s back and knees, and lifts.
“I’ll bite you.”
“I’ll drop you.”
Heechul sniffs and crosses his ankles. “You wouldn’t. It would be another reason never to sleep with you again.”
“There are other reasons?”
“Do you need to add them to your list?”
“I’m just saying, you didn’t have any complaints last night when you were thrashing and moaning my name just because of a few kisses. And getting hard just because of a handjob? Heechul, please.”
Heechul arches up just as Jungmo puts him down on the couch, mouth fastening on his ear. “I’m not wearing underwear. We can test how quickly I can get hard by sucking you off.”
“Much as I love the idea of ruining another pair of briefs, I really don’t feel like being yelled at because somehow I made you miss your drama.”
“Lee Minho is hot,” Heechul says. “Right. Off to the kitchen! Make that coffee!”
“Half milk, three Splendas?” Jungmo grins.
“I cannot believe you had to ask that. How many coffees have you made me in three months? Clearly not enough. I need to start working you harder.”
Jungmo walks into kitchen; Heechul swears he’s swaying his hips more than is necessary, but the way Jungmo’s ass fits into his trousers is worth it. He returns after a few minutes, coffee in hand.
“You should bring that thing into work,” Jungmo says, handing Heechul the mug. “Save me some time. I spend at least an hour getting you coffee every day. You know, considering you make me brew a new pot every time you want a refill.”
Heechul gasps. “Share my Keurig? You must be crazy.”
“Must be.” Jungmo bends, picking up his jacket from the living room floor and hefting it over a shoulder. “Well, I’m off.”
Heechul waves distractedly, eyes fixed on Junpyo’s timely rescue of Jandi from the Evil Bullies. He wrings his hands in his nightshirt as they bicker and Junpyo cleans the flour off of her uniform, carefully bandaging her cuts.
Jungmo coughs. “That’s it? No kiss goodbye?”
“Goodbyes are always awkward,” Heechul shouts over the background music. “We’ll see each other eventually. Just go.”
The door closes, and Heechul snuggles into the couch, holding a pillow to his chest. Junpyo kisses Jandi on the forehead, whirls her away to New Caledonia, and the episode ends.
Heechul makes himself another cup of coffee before stumbling into the shower, ignoring his phone. He doesn’t usually answer calls on his days off, regardless of how desperately Hyukjae might want his opinion on a tactical move, and it isn’t Donghae’s special ringtone, three chimes and a ding that Heechul will always drop anything to answer. The texts keep coming throughout the afternoon, and just before Inkigayo starts they start turning into phone calls. Heechul answers after the second missed call.
“What?. Inkigayo’s on in five minutes, I don’t have time for this.”
“You fucker, why don’t you ever answer your phone? I texted you, like, five times.”
Heechul snickers, recognizing the voice. “Jungmo, I never answer my phone on my day off. And besides, you of all people should know that the traditional thing is to wait three days before calling.”
“You are never going to let me forget I said that, are you.”
“Nope. But. I’m free on Friday night, if you were wondering. You should take me to the cinema.”
Jungmo laughs, the sound low and comforting. “Pick you up at eight?”
“I’ll meet you there. I hate your car.”
“I’ll make a note.” Heechul can almost feel Jungmo smiling through the phone. “See you tomorrow, then.”
→ VI