DoubleMagnae: Burning Bridges
Title: Burning Bridges
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: DoubleMagnae aka Chansung/Jinwoon
Word Count: 1,059
Summary: Chansung burns Jinwoon's bridge.
Notes: i love this pairing ;~; there needs to be more of it
burning bridges
let’s dance together, speak together
compose sentences together
that will bridge the space between
my chair and your couch, between
my sterile white dress shirt and
your unbuttoned blouse
- tablo
*
Chansung doesn’t have words for what this is. He knows it exists and accepts it; takes it for what it is at face value and doesn’t question. Or maybe, he should have. His body reacts before his brain is able to think of the consequences, and he has Jinwoon pressed up against the couch. The younger man moaning is profanities in his ear, breathing heavily and staring up at him through hooded eyes, his back arching into Chansung’s touch.
*
It’s an unspoken agreement to keep this ... this under lock and key. Chansung hides it in his little box of secrets he made in his head, keeps it hidden at all costs and only brings it out of the box when necessary. He mulls it over and thinks it shouldn’t be so bad. There’s nothing bad about having Jinwoon beneath you, sweaty and wanton - nothing wrong with it. He likes the idea of running his hands up and down Jinwoon’s body, enjoys the idea of Jinwoon squirming because of his touch, gets hard at the thought of palming Jinwoon’s cock in his hand.
Chansung’s at it again. He pushes Jinwoon against the mirror of the dance studio and kisses him hard. Kisses him with teeth and tongue, with fingers grasping at hips tightly and heavy moans. He brings Jinwoon’s hips up to meet his, hissing at the friction of their cocks rubbing against each other through fabric.
Jinwoon brings his hands up to Chansung’s neck, holds onto him and cries out his name. No, this isn’t bad at all.
*
Jinwoon basks in the attention given to him, the need to question and fear for such a thing is in the back of his mind. He understands that there are consequences, but they can be damned as long as he gets to keep on feeling this.
This being Chansung, hard and sweaty pushing him against the bed; his own head banging against the headboard in desperation. Chansung, mouth weaving open promises into his skin; Chansung, hands ripping open his heart; Chansung, teeth raking a hollow collarbone with dark intentions; Chansung.
Jinwoon wants Chansung to understand something. He wants Chansung to understand there’s a word for this, there’s a word for this and he wants to explore it together. He wants to build a bridge that reaches to Chansung, a bridge that Chansung can reach back to him.
*
If Chansung is honest with himself he’ll admit that he’s afraid of titles and bridges. He’ll admit that he doesn’t want the bridge that brings the two of them closer, he’s scared of anything that goes beyond physical desires. Chansung wants this to be simple, wants nothing past naked bodies and slapping skin, wants the panting and the long legs wrapped around his torso.
None of this giving and taking of hearts, none of this small talk that doesn’t involve hard kisses - he wants the physical. Jinwoon is starting to scare him. Jinwoon wants the moon, the sun, the stars wrapped and presented to him on a silver platter. He wants to be able to lay next to Chansung without feeling guilty, wants this thing that starts with l and ends with e, wants this thing that starts with ㅅ and ends with ㅐ, wants forever bitten into skin with teeth kept and flicks of tongue.
Chansung burns the bridge before it’s even begun.
*
Jinwoon pretends that it doesn’t hurt him. How the bridge he starts is burnt to a crisp before a name can even be established. He finds Chansung funny, however. He wonders where Chansung gets off to burn his bridge and then come to him with the same fire that’s on the tip of his tongue. He wonders how Chansung has the nerve to shove him against the kitchen counter, and press hungry lips to an edible throat. He wonders why he lacks the courage to push him away and not throw his head back in lust, wrapping his leg around Chansung’s waist in the process.
Jinwoon starts to break. He’s made of glass, not metal. His whole being is starting to crack - first at the edges, and then straight to his core. He lives as if it doesn’t exist, shrugs it off as growing new skin. His subconscious pointing out that glass doesn’t grow skin but breaks - and easily, at that.
Jinwoon decides he doesn’t want to break anymore.
He pushes Chansung away when he feels arms and lips.
Jinwoon can’t crack anymore.
*
Chansung is confused. Confused because Jinwoon turns him away, turns him away and moves on like he was nothing, is nothing. Chansung can’t put it together - he can’t equate 1+1 as 2.
He feels his heart constrict when Jinwoon ignores him for the third time, shoves him aside in favour of something else. He refuses to give up. He needs this - this being Jinwoon.
This being Jinwoon shoved against the bed, moaning and begging for release. Jinwoon, soft lips against his with ridiculous promises; Jinwoon, hard and pushing up against him with trust; Jinwoon, hand wrapped around his erection in obvious desire; Jinwoon, spread out beneath him insecure.
Chansung realizes he wants the bridge and by the looks of it, it’s too late.
*
Chansung approaches Jinwoon late at night, hesitantly placing kisses starting at his forehead, moving down to his nose and then his lips and back up. He kisses Jinwoon behind the ears and underneath the lobes, teeth scraping over them lightly. He weaves fingers between a damp t-shirt, lets the fingers underneath the shirt, toying with taut nipples. Chansung grinds his hips against Jinwoon’s, takes the other man’s lower lip between his and sucks lightly. His tongue sweeping in, luring Jinwoon’s out and into his own mouth.
Jinwoon lets Chansung take advantage of him. He lets Chansung’s fingers trace hesitant promises into his back, lets Chansung’s kisses hold the promises together. Chansung shows him that he wants this, wants this with l and e and ㅅ and ㅐ, wants the bridge between them, wants Jinwoon.
*
Chansung doesn’t understand what this is but accepts it and takes it at face value. He understands that there are consequences... but when you’re in love, the hell with consequences.
Jinwoon understands perfectly what this is. He’s in love with Chansung and Chansung’s in love with him. Really, there was nothing else.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: DoubleMagnae aka Chansung/Jinwoon
Word Count: 1,059
Summary: Chansung burns Jinwoon's bridge.
Notes: i love this pairing ;~; there needs to be more of it
burning bridges
let’s dance together, speak together
compose sentences together
that will bridge the space between
my chair and your couch, between
my sterile white dress shirt and
your unbuttoned blouse
- tablo
*
Chansung doesn’t have words for what this is. He knows it exists and accepts it; takes it for what it is at face value and doesn’t question. Or maybe, he should have. His body reacts before his brain is able to think of the consequences, and he has Jinwoon pressed up against the couch. The younger man moaning is profanities in his ear, breathing heavily and staring up at him through hooded eyes, his back arching into Chansung’s touch.
*
It’s an unspoken agreement to keep this ... this under lock and key. Chansung hides it in his little box of secrets he made in his head, keeps it hidden at all costs and only brings it out of the box when necessary. He mulls it over and thinks it shouldn’t be so bad. There’s nothing bad about having Jinwoon beneath you, sweaty and wanton - nothing wrong with it. He likes the idea of running his hands up and down Jinwoon’s body, enjoys the idea of Jinwoon squirming because of his touch, gets hard at the thought of palming Jinwoon’s cock in his hand.
Chansung’s at it again. He pushes Jinwoon against the mirror of the dance studio and kisses him hard. Kisses him with teeth and tongue, with fingers grasping at hips tightly and heavy moans. He brings Jinwoon’s hips up to meet his, hissing at the friction of their cocks rubbing against each other through fabric.
Jinwoon brings his hands up to Chansung’s neck, holds onto him and cries out his name. No, this isn’t bad at all.
*
Jinwoon basks in the attention given to him, the need to question and fear for such a thing is in the back of his mind. He understands that there are consequences, but they can be damned as long as he gets to keep on feeling this.
This being Chansung, hard and sweaty pushing him against the bed; his own head banging against the headboard in desperation. Chansung, mouth weaving open promises into his skin; Chansung, hands ripping open his heart; Chansung, teeth raking a hollow collarbone with dark intentions; Chansung.
Jinwoon wants Chansung to understand something. He wants Chansung to understand there’s a word for this, there’s a word for this and he wants to explore it together. He wants to build a bridge that reaches to Chansung, a bridge that Chansung can reach back to him.
*
If Chansung is honest with himself he’ll admit that he’s afraid of titles and bridges. He’ll admit that he doesn’t want the bridge that brings the two of them closer, he’s scared of anything that goes beyond physical desires. Chansung wants this to be simple, wants nothing past naked bodies and slapping skin, wants the panting and the long legs wrapped around his torso.
None of this giving and taking of hearts, none of this small talk that doesn’t involve hard kisses - he wants the physical. Jinwoon is starting to scare him. Jinwoon wants the moon, the sun, the stars wrapped and presented to him on a silver platter. He wants to be able to lay next to Chansung without feeling guilty, wants this thing that starts with l and ends with e, wants this thing that starts with ㅅ and ends with ㅐ, wants forever bitten into skin with teeth kept and flicks of tongue.
Chansung burns the bridge before it’s even begun.
*
Jinwoon pretends that it doesn’t hurt him. How the bridge he starts is burnt to a crisp before a name can even be established. He finds Chansung funny, however. He wonders where Chansung gets off to burn his bridge and then come to him with the same fire that’s on the tip of his tongue. He wonders how Chansung has the nerve to shove him against the kitchen counter, and press hungry lips to an edible throat. He wonders why he lacks the courage to push him away and not throw his head back in lust, wrapping his leg around Chansung’s waist in the process.
Jinwoon starts to break. He’s made of glass, not metal. His whole being is starting to crack - first at the edges, and then straight to his core. He lives as if it doesn’t exist, shrugs it off as growing new skin. His subconscious pointing out that glass doesn’t grow skin but breaks - and easily, at that.
Jinwoon decides he doesn’t want to break anymore.
He pushes Chansung away when he feels arms and lips.
Jinwoon can’t crack anymore.
*
Chansung is confused. Confused because Jinwoon turns him away, turns him away and moves on like he was nothing, is nothing. Chansung can’t put it together - he can’t equate 1+1 as 2.
He feels his heart constrict when Jinwoon ignores him for the third time, shoves him aside in favour of something else. He refuses to give up. He needs this - this being Jinwoon.
This being Jinwoon shoved against the bed, moaning and begging for release. Jinwoon, soft lips against his with ridiculous promises; Jinwoon, hard and pushing up against him with trust; Jinwoon, hand wrapped around his erection in obvious desire; Jinwoon, spread out beneath him insecure.
Chansung realizes he wants the bridge and by the looks of it, it’s too late.
*
Chansung approaches Jinwoon late at night, hesitantly placing kisses starting at his forehead, moving down to his nose and then his lips and back up. He kisses Jinwoon behind the ears and underneath the lobes, teeth scraping over them lightly. He weaves fingers between a damp t-shirt, lets the fingers underneath the shirt, toying with taut nipples. Chansung grinds his hips against Jinwoon’s, takes the other man’s lower lip between his and sucks lightly. His tongue sweeping in, luring Jinwoon’s out and into his own mouth.
Jinwoon lets Chansung take advantage of him. He lets Chansung’s fingers trace hesitant promises into his back, lets Chansung’s kisses hold the promises together. Chansung shows him that he wants this, wants this with l and e and ㅅ and ㅐ, wants the bridge between them, wants Jinwoon.
*
Chansung doesn’t understand what this is but accepts it and takes it at face value. He understands that there are consequences... but when you’re in love, the hell with consequences.
Jinwoon understands perfectly what this is. He’s in love with Chansung and Chansung’s in love with him. Really, there was nothing else.