im Hölle
Pairing: Hunhan/Layhan
Genre: Crack.
Length: 1300 words. Short.
RULES: Only read it once. Reread nothing.
Luhan, ich möchte ein Märchen.
Luhan, schläfst du nicht. Ich möchte ein Märchen. Wo ist meine Märchen?
Luhan sat on the porch watching carts roll past, pulled by tired horses. Occasionally, a wild horse would run past, chased by screaming tamers. Luhan enjoyed this life, doomed to sit and watch for all existence. As much as he enjoyed his relaxing existence, he couldn't help but wonder why he was the only one not speaking German. Even Sehun, the village heterosexual, only spoke German.
Luhan-oppa! Eure Märchen ist langweilig. Ich möchte ein andere.
Luhan heard footsteps approaching him along the porch. He turned his head to see Sehun sitting beside him. Sehun started speaking to Luhan in German, forgetting, once again, that any form of verbal communication above grunts was impossible. Luhan sighed, wiping a small globule of Sehunspit off his cheek.
Sehun bowed slightly in apology, before miming "girl, big boobs, love, aegyo". Luhan chuckled. Sehun was yet to realise that he was the only straight in the village, and every other boy was completely and hopelessly enamoured with him.
Das ist den ältesten Märchen. Luhan, du bist alt!
Luhan had considered learning German, but there wasn’t too much time for such activity when one is doomed to sitting and watching horse carts. Luhan often wondered why he’d been sentenced to such a mundane task, and why everyone else could move around and socialise, when he was stuck eternally on a small porch, as out-of-date traffic moved past.
Luhan had spent so much time on the small porch, in fact, that he could precisely describe to anyone who asked. Nobody ever asked him, though, considering anybody who was talking to him (or gesturing and grunting to him) was there anyway. That, and describing is incredibly difficult in gestures and grunts.
Luhan often wondered he’d been sentenced to such a mundane task, and why everyone else could move around and socialise, when he was stuck eternally on a small porch, as out-of-date traffic moved past. The shouting of German swears echoed across the street as a horse broke free from a cart and took its leave from labour.
Achienja! Scheiße! Dummkopf Pferd!
Luhan looked across at Sehun, who was staring deep into Luhan’s eyes. Luhan realised that he would have felt his stomach flip and his heart melt, but he was incapable of emotions akin to lust. Luhan was screaming. The realisation that he should have felt like that was enough for him though. He felt the emotion through the knowledge of what he would have felt before his damnation.
Wo ist meine neue Märchen, Luhan-oppa? Ich möchte es! Wofür du schläfst.
Sehun had no shadow. It made Luhan jealous. Having no shadow was often seen as the epitome of style, and anti shadow sugery was apparently becoming more common. Luhan had resolved that he would have his removed if he ever managed to free himself from his porch. He doubted that would happen.
Luhan suddenly felt a wet thing slide up his cheek. He turned his head suddenly, only to be met by Sehun's thick, luscious lips. Luhan was screaming. Their kiss deepened quickly, as Luhan found the world slowly fade out of his mind, as his entire existence was centred on the two soft cushions of Sehun's enticing lips.
Luhan felt his mind empty further as Sehun's tongue slowly push into his mouth.
Bitte oppa, ein Märchen für mich? Eure kind!
All too soon for Luhan, Sehun pulled away, though Luhan was left in his entranced state of mind. Sehun leaned in towards Luhan and began to whisper in German. Somehow, without his conscious mind realising it, he understood every word perfectly.
"Du bist in eine tiefe Trance. Du bist mein Diener."
Luhan's mind was to clouded from the memory and sensation of the incredible, consuming kiss between them that the words seemed to fly over his head, but stopping long enough for his waking mind to collect and process them. Luhan was screaming. Instead, his subconscious mind processed and accepted all that he was told.
Luhan, schläfst du nicht. Ich möchte ein Märchen. Wo ist meinen Märchen
The shouting of German swears echoed across the street as a horse broke free from a cart and took its leave from labour, but Luhan didn't notice. He noticed nothing in his almost comatose state of trance.
Schläfst du nicht
Sehun was gone, Luhan was watching traffic. Who was Sehun? The village heterosexual? He barely spoke to Sehun due to the conflict of interests. Luhan was screaming. He spent much more time speaking (gesturing and grunting) with Yixing. Luhan enjoyed this life, doomed to sit and watch for all existence. The porch he sat on was comfortable and he sat half on the edge of the sun, in such a way that he was warmed by it, but not burnt.
Luhan heard footsteps approaching him along the porch. He turned his head to see Yixing sitting beside him. Yixing started speaking to Luhan in German, forgetting, once again, that any form of verbal communication above grunts was impossible. Luhan sighed, wiping a small globule of Yixingspit off his cheek.
Yixing was deeply in love with Luhan, but Luhan only looked at the horsecarts trundling by. That one had no driver. Luhan was screaming. That one had a married couple. Luhan wanted to congratulate them, but he was stuck on the porch, doomed to watch. Yixing's intense unrequited love seeped out of his being. The affection he was forever doomed to exude filled the air, almost unmissable. Luhan didn't notice. That cart had a couple mating.
Das ist den ältesten Märchen. Luhan, du bist alt!
Yixing felt his need overwhelm him, he felt his body move to commit that sin he had longed for since the very dawn of time.
Yixing was running. Luhan was screaming. The carts sped up, faster and faster. Were there even horses.
Yixing, Sehun, Yixing, Sehun, Yixing, Sehun, Yixing, Sehun. Who was who? Which was which. Luhan pondered, eternally alone on his porch. He pondered about whether he knew the boys in his mind, or if they existed solely to fill the gap in his soul caused by his endless damnation. Perhaps they were real, and he's simply forgotten. Perhaps they were real, but he wasn't. Perhaps he was only a figment of their imagination, a figment of their deepest desires, their insatiable lust for power and arousal, their unending need for release. Perhaps nobody existed. Perhaps they were but projections from the mind of the devil, asking endlessly for entertainment, for stories. Luhan-oppa, er mag das Märchen. He likes this story.
Luhan, I want a story.
Luhan, don't sleep. I want a story. Where is my story.
Luhan-oppa! Your story is boring. I want another.
This is the oldest story. Luhan, you're old!
Where is my new story, Luhan-oppa? I want it! Why are you sleeping.
Please oppa, a story for me? Your child!
Luhan sat on the porch watching carts roll past, pulled by tired horses. Occasionally, I wild horse would run past, chased by screaming tamers. Luhan was screaming. Luhan enjoyed this life, doomed to sit and watch for all existence. As much as he enjoyed his relaxing existence, he couldn't help but wonder why he was the only one not speaking German.
Luhan felt like nobody understood him. Nobody could understand him. They spoke German, he spoke Korean. It was an ongoing problem. He felt like nobody empathised with him. Nobody knew how he felt, so alone, yet so warm. The warmth was from the sun he was sitting in. The sun never moved, it was always midday. There were always horsecarts trundling down the cobbled streets. Luhan was always watching. He was always watching because it was his job, his role. If he didn't watch then who would. If he didn't watch, would anything really exist?
Would anything be?
Genre: Crack.
Length: 1300 words. Short.
RULES: Only read it once. Reread nothing.
Luhan, ich möchte ein Märchen.
Luhan, schläfst du nicht. Ich möchte ein Märchen. Wo ist meine Märchen?
Luhan sat on the porch watching carts roll past, pulled by tired horses. Occasionally, a wild horse would run past, chased by screaming tamers. Luhan enjoyed this life, doomed to sit and watch for all existence. As much as he enjoyed his relaxing existence, he couldn't help but wonder why he was the only one not speaking German. Even Sehun, the village heterosexual, only spoke German.
Luhan-oppa! Eure Märchen ist langweilig. Ich möchte ein andere.
Luhan heard footsteps approaching him along the porch. He turned his head to see Sehun sitting beside him. Sehun started speaking to Luhan in German, forgetting, once again, that any form of verbal communication above grunts was impossible. Luhan sighed, wiping a small globule of Sehunspit off his cheek.
Sehun bowed slightly in apology, before miming "girl, big boobs, love, aegyo". Luhan chuckled. Sehun was yet to realise that he was the only straight in the village, and every other boy was completely and hopelessly enamoured with him.
Das ist den ältesten Märchen. Luhan, du bist alt!
Luhan had considered learning German, but there wasn’t too much time for such activity when one is doomed to sitting and watching horse carts. Luhan often wondered why he’d been sentenced to such a mundane task, and why everyone else could move around and socialise, when he was stuck eternally on a small porch, as out-of-date traffic moved past.
Luhan had spent so much time on the small porch, in fact, that he could precisely describe to anyone who asked. Nobody ever asked him, though, considering anybody who was talking to him (or gesturing and grunting to him) was there anyway. That, and describing is incredibly difficult in gestures and grunts.
Luhan often wondered he’d been sentenced to such a mundane task, and why everyone else could move around and socialise, when he was stuck eternally on a small porch, as out-of-date traffic moved past. The shouting of German swears echoed across the street as a horse broke free from a cart and took its leave from labour.
Achienja! Scheiße! Dummkopf Pferd!
Luhan looked across at Sehun, who was staring deep into Luhan’s eyes. Luhan realised that he would have felt his stomach flip and his heart melt, but he was incapable of emotions akin to lust. Luhan was screaming. The realisation that he should have felt like that was enough for him though. He felt the emotion through the knowledge of what he would have felt before his damnation.
Wo ist meine neue Märchen, Luhan-oppa? Ich möchte es! Wofür du schläfst.
Sehun had no shadow. It made Luhan jealous. Having no shadow was often seen as the epitome of style, and anti shadow sugery was apparently becoming more common. Luhan had resolved that he would have his removed if he ever managed to free himself from his porch. He doubted that would happen.
Luhan suddenly felt a wet thing slide up his cheek. He turned his head suddenly, only to be met by Sehun's thick, luscious lips. Luhan was screaming. Their kiss deepened quickly, as Luhan found the world slowly fade out of his mind, as his entire existence was centred on the two soft cushions of Sehun's enticing lips.
Luhan felt his mind empty further as Sehun's tongue slowly push into his mouth.
Bitte oppa, ein Märchen für mich? Eure kind!
All too soon for Luhan, Sehun pulled away, though Luhan was left in his entranced state of mind. Sehun leaned in towards Luhan and began to whisper in German. Somehow, without his conscious mind realising it, he understood every word perfectly.
"Du bist in eine tiefe Trance. Du bist mein Diener."
Luhan's mind was to clouded from the memory and sensation of the incredible, consuming kiss between them that the words seemed to fly over his head, but stopping long enough for his waking mind to collect and process them. Luhan was screaming. Instead, his subconscious mind processed and accepted all that he was told.
Luhan, schläfst du nicht. Ich möchte ein Märchen. Wo ist meinen Märchen
The shouting of German swears echoed across the street as a horse broke free from a cart and took its leave from labour, but Luhan didn't notice. He noticed nothing in his almost comatose state of trance.
Schläfst du nicht
Sehun was gone, Luhan was watching traffic. Who was Sehun? The village heterosexual? He barely spoke to Sehun due to the conflict of interests. Luhan was screaming. He spent much more time speaking (gesturing and grunting) with Yixing. Luhan enjoyed this life, doomed to sit and watch for all existence. The porch he sat on was comfortable and he sat half on the edge of the sun, in such a way that he was warmed by it, but not burnt.
Luhan heard footsteps approaching him along the porch. He turned his head to see Yixing sitting beside him. Yixing started speaking to Luhan in German, forgetting, once again, that any form of verbal communication above grunts was impossible. Luhan sighed, wiping a small globule of Yixingspit off his cheek.
Yixing was deeply in love with Luhan, but Luhan only looked at the horsecarts trundling by. That one had no driver. Luhan was screaming. That one had a married couple. Luhan wanted to congratulate them, but he was stuck on the porch, doomed to watch. Yixing's intense unrequited love seeped out of his being. The affection he was forever doomed to exude filled the air, almost unmissable. Luhan didn't notice. That cart had a couple mating.
Das ist den ältesten Märchen. Luhan, du bist alt!
Yixing felt his need overwhelm him, he felt his body move to commit that sin he had longed for since the very dawn of time.
Yixing was running. Luhan was screaming. The carts sped up, faster and faster. Were there even horses.
Yixing, Sehun, Yixing, Sehun, Yixing, Sehun, Yixing, Sehun. Who was who? Which was which. Luhan pondered, eternally alone on his porch. He pondered about whether he knew the boys in his mind, or if they existed solely to fill the gap in his soul caused by his endless damnation. Perhaps they were real, and he's simply forgotten. Perhaps they were real, but he wasn't. Perhaps he was only a figment of their imagination, a figment of their deepest desires, their insatiable lust for power and arousal, their unending need for release. Perhaps nobody existed. Perhaps they were but projections from the mind of the devil, asking endlessly for entertainment, for stories. Luhan-oppa, er mag das Märchen. He likes this story.
Luhan, I want a story.
Luhan, don't sleep. I want a story. Where is my story.
Luhan-oppa! Your story is boring. I want another.
This is the oldest story. Luhan, you're old!
Where is my new story, Luhan-oppa? I want it! Why are you sleeping.
Please oppa, a story for me? Your child!
Luhan sat on the porch watching carts roll past, pulled by tired horses. Occasionally, I wild horse would run past, chased by screaming tamers. Luhan was screaming. Luhan enjoyed this life, doomed to sit and watch for all existence. As much as he enjoyed his relaxing existence, he couldn't help but wonder why he was the only one not speaking German.
Luhan felt like nobody understood him. Nobody could understand him. They spoke German, he spoke Korean. It was an ongoing problem. He felt like nobody empathised with him. Nobody knew how he felt, so alone, yet so warm. The warmth was from the sun he was sitting in. The sun never moved, it was always midday. There were always horsecarts trundling down the cobbled streets. Luhan was always watching. He was always watching because it was his job, his role. If he didn't watch then who would. If he didn't watch, would anything really exist?
Would anything be?