ozone baby
Title: AM Radio
Fandom: Super Junior
Rating: R
Pairing: Qmi
Summary: hot times~ lolol somebody stop me
A/N: because really, if I'm not writing porn, Laundromat AU is all I've got /headdesk
It’s at least ten degrees hotter than the weatherman said it would be, and the air is humid and sticky with last night’s rain evaporating off the sun-baked concrete outside their open window. The barely-there breeze drags in the sounds of blaring horns in jammed up traffic and muffled bachata over radio static from next door. Zhou Mi’s standing in the kitchen, following the path of the oscillating fan, arms spread out as he steps from side to side. But there’s no relief from the oppressive temperature, he can barely feel the difference between the stirred up air and the stuffy heat of the apartment.
Kyuhyun stumbles in with a lazy stride, dressed similarly to Zhou Mi in the bare minimum of a pair of boxers, the one difference being Kyuhyun’s tanktop, which Zhou Mi himself had given up on approximately five degrees ago. He leans over to brace his forearms on the countertop opposite Zhou Mi, hanging his head and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “Can you run out of sweat?”
“Theoretically.” is all Zhou Mi can think to say, too muddled to even encourage Kyuhyun to boil some drinking water- the thought of turning on the stove in this weather nearly has him passing out as it is.
Zhou Mi finally gives up on the fan, sliding down to sprawl out on the floor. The tiles are blissfully cool against the bare skin of his back, but he knows it will only last a few minutes. He figures he might as well enjoy it while he’s able to, and lets himself doze, finding a sort of lullaby in the combination of Kyuhyun humming along faintly with next door’s radio, the sirens wailing a few blocks down and the steady hum of the fan.
The sound of plastic crinkling has him cracking an eye open a little while later, and he spots Kyuhyun’s toes right next to his ear. Then his forehead is getting stepped on and he’s almost too overheated to care, and the sole of Kyuhyun’s foot is kind of cool anyway- then ohmygodewfeet occurs to him and he grabs Kyuhyun by the ankle, intoning sweetly, “Are you trying to tell me you don’t need this anymore?”
Kyuhyun laughs and shakes off his hand, moving to crouch beside his head. It’s then that Zhou Mi notices Kyuhyun’s tongue, stained dark red, curling around the last bite of a popsicle. Unbothered by the undoubtedly heavy weight of Zhou Mi’s stare, Kyuhyun simply wraps his lips around the rapidly melting square of popsicle, and pulls it right off the stick.
“Where’s mine?”
“Sorry, last one.” Kyuhyun grins and drops the stick into the plastic wrapping, tossing it into the nearby garbage can. And for a second Zhou Mi forgets his building annoyance because Kyuhyun has juice smeared over his lips and fingers and he’s sort of preoccupied with simultaneously wondering how anyone Kyuhyun’s age could make that much of a mess out of a single food item and whether or not it would be appropriate for him to suck each of those fingers clean. In his defense, they’d run out of napkins and the sink’s all the way on the other side of their closet-sized kitchen; he’s only trying to help.
Finally managing to work his enthralled gawking into something closer to a scowl, Zhou Mi leans up on his elbows, “That’s not fair. It’s even more unfair because I think it’s actually too hot for me to argue.” he sighs wistfully, “At least tell me what flavor it was.”
“Um.” At this Kyuhyun pauses to lick a finger contemplatively before shrugging, “Raspberry, I think?”
“Kui Xian, you know that’s practically almost my favorite!” Collapsing back to the floor and only kind of flailing ineffectually- which can’t rightfully be called throwing a tantrum because really, Zhou Mi is sure he doesn’t have the energy for the kind of hysterics an actual tantrum would require. He settles quite comfortably on feeble whining.
Until, that is, Kyuhyun’s mouth gets in the way when he bends over and plants a slightly sideways kiss on him, adjusting minutely for the soft dip of Zhou Mi’s tongue when he raises a hand, fingers curling stray locks of damp hair behind Kyuhyun’s ear. The sticky-sweet press of Kyuhyun’s lips has Zhou Mi laughing, mouth curving into a slow smile until Kyuhyun is forced to pull away. “What?”
Zhou Mi’s hand relocates to the corner of Kyuhyun’s jaw, thumb smoothing over the rise of his cheekbone, “My favorite things. Even if you’re still a jerk for eating that popsicle and not sharing.”
“Well, I’m sharing now, so take it or leave it.”
Zhou Mi takes his time on all ten of Kyuhyun’s fingertips, careful to kiss away any remaining trace of melted popsicle, tongue sweeping over the pads of his fingers until all he can taste is the familiar salt of Kyuhyun’s skin. Zhou Mi strings kisses along his knuckles, up the inside of his forearm, inner elbow, over his shoulder, collarbone, easing Kyuhyun closer so he can reach that spot under his ear, teeth scraping lightly until a tiny shiver runs through Kyuhyun. At that, Zhou Mi decides that even if it means moving from the coolest place in the entire apartment, he’d much rather suffer the almost suffocating heat if it’s in the form of Kyuhyun’s thighs tight around his hips.
“Greedy,” Kyuhyun mumbles, even as he’s climbing over him, body-heat compressing between them when he leans down, head inclined, parted lips dragging over the steady rhythm of his pulse. Zhou Mi pauses to consider the plausibility of wearing a turtleneck to his tutoring sessions mid-July, but really, he can’t convince himself that appearing professional beats the way it feels to have Kyuhyun’s mouth on him like that.
“You know,” Kyuhyun says, quite conversationally for the way his hand is inching up the fabric of Zhou Mi’s boxers, “The chances that I lied about that being the last popsicle are pretty high.”
“You’re a cruel person, Kui Xian.” He hisses and tries not to bite through his lip as Kyuhyun crawls down between his legs, mouth working over him and just a single layer of thin fabric away from where Zhou Mi needs him. Kyuhyun hikes Zhou Mi’s leg up over his shoulder, tilting his hips away from the floor. And then he’s got the fingertips of one hand following the curve of Zhou Mi’s ass, right up to his waistband; he snaps it and the vibration of his laugh sends Zhou Mi canting forwards reflexively, grinding against Kyuhyun’s mouth with a noise he knows he’ll never live down, damp fabric clinging to him under the hot press of Kyuhyun’s tongue.
The purposeful exhale of warm breath nearly has Zhou Mi’s eyes rolling back while Kyuhyun patiently draws aimless patterns over the inside of his thigh with the blunt edge of a nail, his tongue following the very obvious evidence of Zhou Mi’s discomfort before, “You keep confusing cruel and clever, gege.”
Zhou Mi’s head smacks against the tile with an unsettling crack and he forgets all about any heat outside of Kyuhyun’s mouth.
A/N II: BEFORE ANYONE ASKS-- I GAVE UP WRITING NC-17 FIC FOR LENT, THIS IS ME TRYING AND FAILING, CLEARLY TO COPE. SO CHANCES OF ME EXPANDING ON THIS ARE SLIM TO NONE. I DO NOT RELISH HAVING TO CONFESS IMPURE THOUGHTS AND WRITING SLASH TO MY PRIEST. I'M NOT SURE THE POOR MAN COULD TAKE IT. ANYHOW, I CONVINCED MYSELF THAT IF I DIDN'T USE 'COCK' THEN IT COULDN'T POSSIBLY COUNT AS PORN. /HEADDESK YEAH. I'M NOT SURE HOW I MANAGE TO SHOVEL SO MUCH BULLSHIT, EITHER. Fahrenheit since this is supposed to take place in NY-area (we're uh, still deciding on a borough). This is an expansion of a drabble I had hanging around my googledocs, based off this. I feel like it's probably getting more and more difficult for you guys to take me seriously :'DDDDD MY WORK HERE IS DONE ♥
remixied: i need a title :|
blahnicity: um
summer days
DRIFTING AWAY
BUT OH OH
OH THOSE SUMMER NIGHTS
remixied: WHY DID I NOT SEE THIS COMING
Fandom: Super Junior
Rating: R
Pairing: Qmi
Summary: hot times~ lolol somebody stop me
A/N: because really, if I'm not writing porn, Laundromat AU is all I've got /headdesk
It’s at least ten degrees hotter than the weatherman said it would be, and the air is humid and sticky with last night’s rain evaporating off the sun-baked concrete outside their open window. The barely-there breeze drags in the sounds of blaring horns in jammed up traffic and muffled bachata over radio static from next door. Zhou Mi’s standing in the kitchen, following the path of the oscillating fan, arms spread out as he steps from side to side. But there’s no relief from the oppressive temperature, he can barely feel the difference between the stirred up air and the stuffy heat of the apartment.
Kyuhyun stumbles in with a lazy stride, dressed similarly to Zhou Mi in the bare minimum of a pair of boxers, the one difference being Kyuhyun’s tanktop, which Zhou Mi himself had given up on approximately five degrees ago. He leans over to brace his forearms on the countertop opposite Zhou Mi, hanging his head and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “Can you run out of sweat?”
“Theoretically.” is all Zhou Mi can think to say, too muddled to even encourage Kyuhyun to boil some drinking water- the thought of turning on the stove in this weather nearly has him passing out as it is.
Zhou Mi finally gives up on the fan, sliding down to sprawl out on the floor. The tiles are blissfully cool against the bare skin of his back, but he knows it will only last a few minutes. He figures he might as well enjoy it while he’s able to, and lets himself doze, finding a sort of lullaby in the combination of Kyuhyun humming along faintly with next door’s radio, the sirens wailing a few blocks down and the steady hum of the fan.
The sound of plastic crinkling has him cracking an eye open a little while later, and he spots Kyuhyun’s toes right next to his ear. Then his forehead is getting stepped on and he’s almost too overheated to care, and the sole of Kyuhyun’s foot is kind of cool anyway- then ohmygodewfeet occurs to him and he grabs Kyuhyun by the ankle, intoning sweetly, “Are you trying to tell me you don’t need this anymore?”
Kyuhyun laughs and shakes off his hand, moving to crouch beside his head. It’s then that Zhou Mi notices Kyuhyun’s tongue, stained dark red, curling around the last bite of a popsicle. Unbothered by the undoubtedly heavy weight of Zhou Mi’s stare, Kyuhyun simply wraps his lips around the rapidly melting square of popsicle, and pulls it right off the stick.
“Where’s mine?”
“Sorry, last one.” Kyuhyun grins and drops the stick into the plastic wrapping, tossing it into the nearby garbage can. And for a second Zhou Mi forgets his building annoyance because Kyuhyun has juice smeared over his lips and fingers and he’s sort of preoccupied with simultaneously wondering how anyone Kyuhyun’s age could make that much of a mess out of a single food item and whether or not it would be appropriate for him to suck each of those fingers clean. In his defense, they’d run out of napkins and the sink’s all the way on the other side of their closet-sized kitchen; he’s only trying to help.
Finally managing to work his enthralled gawking into something closer to a scowl, Zhou Mi leans up on his elbows, “That’s not fair. It’s even more unfair because I think it’s actually too hot for me to argue.” he sighs wistfully, “At least tell me what flavor it was.”
“Um.” At this Kyuhyun pauses to lick a finger contemplatively before shrugging, “Raspberry, I think?”
“Kui Xian, you know that’s practically almost my favorite!” Collapsing back to the floor and only kind of flailing ineffectually- which can’t rightfully be called throwing a tantrum because really, Zhou Mi is sure he doesn’t have the energy for the kind of hysterics an actual tantrum would require. He settles quite comfortably on feeble whining.
Until, that is, Kyuhyun’s mouth gets in the way when he bends over and plants a slightly sideways kiss on him, adjusting minutely for the soft dip of Zhou Mi’s tongue when he raises a hand, fingers curling stray locks of damp hair behind Kyuhyun’s ear. The sticky-sweet press of Kyuhyun’s lips has Zhou Mi laughing, mouth curving into a slow smile until Kyuhyun is forced to pull away. “What?”
Zhou Mi’s hand relocates to the corner of Kyuhyun’s jaw, thumb smoothing over the rise of his cheekbone, “My favorite things. Even if you’re still a jerk for eating that popsicle and not sharing.”
“Well, I’m sharing now, so take it or leave it.”
Zhou Mi takes his time on all ten of Kyuhyun’s fingertips, careful to kiss away any remaining trace of melted popsicle, tongue sweeping over the pads of his fingers until all he can taste is the familiar salt of Kyuhyun’s skin. Zhou Mi strings kisses along his knuckles, up the inside of his forearm, inner elbow, over his shoulder, collarbone, easing Kyuhyun closer so he can reach that spot under his ear, teeth scraping lightly until a tiny shiver runs through Kyuhyun. At that, Zhou Mi decides that even if it means moving from the coolest place in the entire apartment, he’d much rather suffer the almost suffocating heat if it’s in the form of Kyuhyun’s thighs tight around his hips.
“Greedy,” Kyuhyun mumbles, even as he’s climbing over him, body-heat compressing between them when he leans down, head inclined, parted lips dragging over the steady rhythm of his pulse. Zhou Mi pauses to consider the plausibility of wearing a turtleneck to his tutoring sessions mid-July, but really, he can’t convince himself that appearing professional beats the way it feels to have Kyuhyun’s mouth on him like that.
“You know,” Kyuhyun says, quite conversationally for the way his hand is inching up the fabric of Zhou Mi’s boxers, “The chances that I lied about that being the last popsicle are pretty high.”
“You’re a cruel person, Kui Xian.” He hisses and tries not to bite through his lip as Kyuhyun crawls down between his legs, mouth working over him and just a single layer of thin fabric away from where Zhou Mi needs him. Kyuhyun hikes Zhou Mi’s leg up over his shoulder, tilting his hips away from the floor. And then he’s got the fingertips of one hand following the curve of Zhou Mi’s ass, right up to his waistband; he snaps it and the vibration of his laugh sends Zhou Mi canting forwards reflexively, grinding against Kyuhyun’s mouth with a noise he knows he’ll never live down, damp fabric clinging to him under the hot press of Kyuhyun’s tongue.
The purposeful exhale of warm breath nearly has Zhou Mi’s eyes rolling back while Kyuhyun patiently draws aimless patterns over the inside of his thigh with the blunt edge of a nail, his tongue following the very obvious evidence of Zhou Mi’s discomfort before, “You keep confusing cruel and clever, gege.”
Zhou Mi’s head smacks against the tile with an unsettling crack and he forgets all about any heat outside of Kyuhyun’s mouth.
A/N II: BEFORE ANYONE ASKS-- I GAVE UP WRITING NC-17 FIC FOR LENT, THIS IS ME TRYING AND FAILING, CLEARLY TO COPE. SO CHANCES OF ME EXPANDING ON THIS ARE SLIM TO NONE. I DO NOT RELISH HAVING TO CONFESS IMPURE THOUGHTS AND WRITING SLASH TO MY PRIEST. I'M NOT SURE THE POOR MAN COULD TAKE IT. ANYHOW, I CONVINCED MYSELF THAT IF I DIDN'T USE 'COCK' THEN IT COULDN'T POSSIBLY COUNT AS PORN. /HEADDESK YEAH. I'M NOT SURE HOW I MANAGE TO SHOVEL SO MUCH BULLSHIT, EITHER. Fahrenheit since this is supposed to take place in NY-area (we're uh, still deciding on a borough). This is an expansion of a drabble I had hanging around my googledocs, based off this. I feel like it's probably getting more and more difficult for you guys to take me seriously :'DDDDD MY WORK HERE IS DONE ♥
remixied: i need a title :|
blahnicity: um
summer days
DRIFTING AWAY
BUT OH OH
OH THOSE SUMMER NIGHTS
remixied: WHY DID I NOT SEE THIS COMING