100 Suju Fics: Diamonds
Fic no: 001/100
#22. Diamonds, Sungmin/Kibum
PG-13
100 Fics Archive
(are a girl’s best friend)
Except Sungmin is no girl, even if he’s pretty enough to pass for one. Except Kibum already has him, flesh and skin and soul, even if Sungmin’s not stupid enough to let him know that just yet.
“Diamonds”, he says instead; holds them up to the soft light.
“Diamonds”, Kibum agrees, quiet, noncommittal, head tilted to the side. “Do you like them?”
The silver is cool in his palm, the delicate links heavy, so heavy, weighted with the promise of more, of anything, of everything he could ever want. “Yes”, Sungmin says, relieved at how calm he sounds, how normal, “very much.”
“Good.” Kibum smiles, then, for the first time this evening, small, slow, close-lipped, and Sungmin finds himself holding his breath as Kibum sets down his wineglass and moves to fasten the chain about his neck.
“Mine, now”, Kibum says when he leans back to inspect his handiwork, tone almost musing, and Sungmin nods, throat dry, dry, parched; doesn’t move to stop him when Kibum slips warm fingers under his shirt, when Kibum presses him into the sheets.
Sungmin thinks of shackles, of trinkets, of selling his soul; thinks of Kibum and his eyes, of Kibum’s lips on the line of his jaw, and it’s enough to make him want to laugh out loud.
Diamonds are nothing compared to this prize.
#22. Diamonds, Sungmin/Kibum
PG-13
100 Fics Archive
(are a girl’s best friend)
Except Sungmin is no girl, even if he’s pretty enough to pass for one. Except Kibum already has him, flesh and skin and soul, even if Sungmin’s not stupid enough to let him know that just yet.
“Diamonds”, he says instead; holds them up to the soft light.
“Diamonds”, Kibum agrees, quiet, noncommittal, head tilted to the side. “Do you like them?”
The silver is cool in his palm, the delicate links heavy, so heavy, weighted with the promise of more, of anything, of everything he could ever want. “Yes”, Sungmin says, relieved at how calm he sounds, how normal, “very much.”
“Good.” Kibum smiles, then, for the first time this evening, small, slow, close-lipped, and Sungmin finds himself holding his breath as Kibum sets down his wineglass and moves to fasten the chain about his neck.
“Mine, now”, Kibum says when he leans back to inspect his handiwork, tone almost musing, and Sungmin nods, throat dry, dry, parched; doesn’t move to stop him when Kibum slips warm fingers under his shirt, when Kibum presses him into the sheets.
Sungmin thinks of shackles, of trinkets, of selling his soul; thinks of Kibum and his eyes, of Kibum’s lips on the line of his jaw, and it’s enough to make him want to laugh out loud.
Diamonds are nothing compared to this prize.