[fic]
title: Silence Speaks Volumes
rating: R
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Heechul/Donghae
summary: They don't need words to speak to each other.
comments: Written for the spring theme of 'sunday silence' at 4seasons_rabu.
There’s a special quality to the silence on a Sunday. It’s thick, but not too heavy; it’s not overwhelming, and it’s not the smothering kind of silence that hangs at night, nor is it the solemn kind of silence you get inside a church.
It’s peaceful, calming, easy and relaxing, comfortable and natural. It’s the smooth kind of silence that flows on a sweet spring afternoon; soft and warm like the touch of skin on skin; welcome and wanted like a good-morning kiss.
The serene silence is pervaded by the steady sounds of two people breathing, in and out, in and out, slow and steady, relaxed and at ease. A hand slides down a bare arm, fingers smooth across exposed skin, a hot breath sighs against a warm neck, a small murmur of affection.
Fingers slip through soft, dyed strands of hair, and a pair of lips twitch into an easy smile.
‘Hi’s are exchanged with just smiles and a warm press of lips upon lips. A slight inclination of the head asks ‘how do you feel?’ and the sunny smile in return is all the answer that’s needed. Fingers find fingers and squeeze each other reassuringly.
Wide, questioning eyes seem to ask ‘is it okay?’ The hand that cups his cheek and the mouth that presses against his own tell him yes, ‘yes, everything we did is okay.’
Neither of them feel the need to speak, to break the perfect spell the afternoon silence has weaved around them; they don’t need words anyway, everything they want to say can be said with a touch or a look or a smile.
It isn’t like either of them had expected, at all. When they’d ended up in bed together last night, just a little drunk, and almost certainly (but never admittedly) giggling over something, neither had even imagined it might have been like this. This, the soft silence, the warm brush of bare skin against bare skin, an exchange of smiles or a kiss, the steady rhythm of their breathing and constant melody of their hearts, it was perfect, all of it, or about as close to perfection as was humanly possible.
There’s a slight gap in the curtains, allowing a small shaft of sunlight to spill into the room, across the bed. It illuminates the room just enough for them to see each other better. Hair is mussed and sleep-tousled, eyes are still half-lidded with sleep and lips wear lazy, sleepy smiles, but the skin is warm where they touch and cheeks are pleasantly flushed with the thrill of this, of care and affection and love, and they both think that the other looks absolutely beautiful, aglow with the radiance of adoration.
If any of his friends had asked him before last night if he’d ever have expected this to happen, Heechul would honestly have answered no, no he had not expected this. But it had happened, and here they both are the next day, and neither of them seems to regret the event for a moment. Heechul knows that he doesn’t, not at all, and it’s clear by the sparkle in Donghae’s eyes and the shine of his smile that he regrets none of this either.
The fact that he knows this, just by reading the look on Donghae’s face, makes Heechul’s stomach flutter and flip. To think he knows this man, his best friend, so well that they can hold a conversation and come to a decision, all without breaking the perfect silence of this Sunday afternoon, shows him just how much he cares for his friend, and how much Donghae cares for him in return.
The thought makes him feel warm inside, a feeling Heechul isn’t used to, but one he’s surprised to find he doesn’t really mind.
Fingers reach out and smooth a path down cheek and neck, trace a collarbone and trail down to explore further. A mouth presses softly against neck, lips leave a line of wet sensuality; a tongue traces meaningless, teasing patterns and warm skin is sucked into an even warmer mouth, until blood wells up under the skin and leaves a mark. Only the softest of breaths escape through partially parted lips, barely even sliding into the silence of the room, but the slight shiver of limbs says clearly that this ‘feels good.’
Fingers trail down lower and lower, slide down over chest and dip down over stomach, to find welcoming heat between trembling thighs. The casual, almost hesitant grip of fingers is like a question, ‘is this okay?’ The rise of hips and the hot, gasp against skin is most definitely an answer of ‘yes this is fine, fine …’
Donghae doesn’t need to feel teeth scrape against his earlobe, doesn’t need to feel fingernails press into his skin or the moist warmth of an almost-sigh against his cheek to know that Heechul is saying ‘more, more’.
No words are needed, or even pass, between them both; soft sighs and murmured moans are enough to say ‘that feels good’; stroking fingers or a meeting of hips clearly conveys ‘just like that’; the sharp sting of fingernails and breathless gasps signal ‘almost there’ and their clutching hands, sweat-beaded skin, trembling bodies and thundering hearts are all quite obviously saying ‘oh God, yes, yes, yes …’
Even afterwards, still catching their breaths back and holding each other tightly, all they exchange are easy, adoring smiles and a tender press of lips.
‘I love you’ doesn’t need to be said out loud; in the soft, enveloping warmth of each other’s bodies, on that perfect, silent, Sunday afternoon; neither need to do more than look into each other’s eyes to see the emotions and feelings held there.
But Donghae decides to say so anyway, with a brush of fingers over Heechul’s cheek, lips forming the words as they sweetly press against lips.
Words aren’t always necessary, but sometimes, they’re nice to hear said anyway.
- end -
rating: R
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Heechul/Donghae
summary: They don't need words to speak to each other.
comments: Written for the spring theme of 'sunday silence' at 4seasons_rabu.
There’s a special quality to the silence on a Sunday. It’s thick, but not too heavy; it’s not overwhelming, and it’s not the smothering kind of silence that hangs at night, nor is it the solemn kind of silence you get inside a church.
It’s peaceful, calming, easy and relaxing, comfortable and natural. It’s the smooth kind of silence that flows on a sweet spring afternoon; soft and warm like the touch of skin on skin; welcome and wanted like a good-morning kiss.
The serene silence is pervaded by the steady sounds of two people breathing, in and out, in and out, slow and steady, relaxed and at ease. A hand slides down a bare arm, fingers smooth across exposed skin, a hot breath sighs against a warm neck, a small murmur of affection.
Fingers slip through soft, dyed strands of hair, and a pair of lips twitch into an easy smile.
‘Hi’s are exchanged with just smiles and a warm press of lips upon lips. A slight inclination of the head asks ‘how do you feel?’ and the sunny smile in return is all the answer that’s needed. Fingers find fingers and squeeze each other reassuringly.
Wide, questioning eyes seem to ask ‘is it okay?’ The hand that cups his cheek and the mouth that presses against his own tell him yes, ‘yes, everything we did is okay.’
Neither of them feel the need to speak, to break the perfect spell the afternoon silence has weaved around them; they don’t need words anyway, everything they want to say can be said with a touch or a look or a smile.
It isn’t like either of them had expected, at all. When they’d ended up in bed together last night, just a little drunk, and almost certainly (but never admittedly) giggling over something, neither had even imagined it might have been like this. This, the soft silence, the warm brush of bare skin against bare skin, an exchange of smiles or a kiss, the steady rhythm of their breathing and constant melody of their hearts, it was perfect, all of it, or about as close to perfection as was humanly possible.
There’s a slight gap in the curtains, allowing a small shaft of sunlight to spill into the room, across the bed. It illuminates the room just enough for them to see each other better. Hair is mussed and sleep-tousled, eyes are still half-lidded with sleep and lips wear lazy, sleepy smiles, but the skin is warm where they touch and cheeks are pleasantly flushed with the thrill of this, of care and affection and love, and they both think that the other looks absolutely beautiful, aglow with the radiance of adoration.
If any of his friends had asked him before last night if he’d ever have expected this to happen, Heechul would honestly have answered no, no he had not expected this. But it had happened, and here they both are the next day, and neither of them seems to regret the event for a moment. Heechul knows that he doesn’t, not at all, and it’s clear by the sparkle in Donghae’s eyes and the shine of his smile that he regrets none of this either.
The fact that he knows this, just by reading the look on Donghae’s face, makes Heechul’s stomach flutter and flip. To think he knows this man, his best friend, so well that they can hold a conversation and come to a decision, all without breaking the perfect silence of this Sunday afternoon, shows him just how much he cares for his friend, and how much Donghae cares for him in return.
The thought makes him feel warm inside, a feeling Heechul isn’t used to, but one he’s surprised to find he doesn’t really mind.
Fingers reach out and smooth a path down cheek and neck, trace a collarbone and trail down to explore further. A mouth presses softly against neck, lips leave a line of wet sensuality; a tongue traces meaningless, teasing patterns and warm skin is sucked into an even warmer mouth, until blood wells up under the skin and leaves a mark. Only the softest of breaths escape through partially parted lips, barely even sliding into the silence of the room, but the slight shiver of limbs says clearly that this ‘feels good.’
Fingers trail down lower and lower, slide down over chest and dip down over stomach, to find welcoming heat between trembling thighs. The casual, almost hesitant grip of fingers is like a question, ‘is this okay?’ The rise of hips and the hot, gasp against skin is most definitely an answer of ‘yes this is fine, fine …’
Donghae doesn’t need to feel teeth scrape against his earlobe, doesn’t need to feel fingernails press into his skin or the moist warmth of an almost-sigh against his cheek to know that Heechul is saying ‘more, more’.
No words are needed, or even pass, between them both; soft sighs and murmured moans are enough to say ‘that feels good’; stroking fingers or a meeting of hips clearly conveys ‘just like that’; the sharp sting of fingernails and breathless gasps signal ‘almost there’ and their clutching hands, sweat-beaded skin, trembling bodies and thundering hearts are all quite obviously saying ‘oh God, yes, yes, yes …’
Even afterwards, still catching their breaths back and holding each other tightly, all they exchange are easy, adoring smiles and a tender press of lips.
‘I love you’ doesn’t need to be said out loud; in the soft, enveloping warmth of each other’s bodies, on that perfect, silent, Sunday afternoon; neither need to do more than look into each other’s eyes to see the emotions and feelings held there.
But Donghae decides to say so anyway, with a brush of fingers over Heechul’s cheek, lips forming the words as they sweetly press against lips.
Words aren’t always necessary, but sometimes, they’re nice to hear said anyway.
- end -