JaeCinHae drabble ;D
iceberg
trainee days, jaejoong pov.
It's 11:03 at night and Heechul's not back from filming yet when Donghae crawls into your bed. He's done it before - you both have - when things get a little too lonely or a little too cold, just to have someone to hold or cling to or kiss away worries; this time, though, there's no murmured excuse (bad dream, it's cold), just Donghae's arm tight around your waist and his mouth lining kisses up your neck until teeth find your earlobe and you shiver.
It takes only a quick, practiced shift for you to have Donghae pinned under you, pressed into the mattress. You kiss him - hard, as if that will erase the fact that his mouth and hands are nowhere near as clumsy as the first time you did this, and you're not sure if you're proud of that or not. The fabric of your pajama pants is so thin you can feel his fingernails digging into your hips through it, and you realize Donghae is whispering something: your name, urgent, muffled between kisses, but it's not until his fingers curl into the waistband of your pants that you realize what he's asking.
There's no decision involved - you catch his hands, pull back to look at him and find his eyes hot with something between anger and betrayal.
"What?" he demands, his voice tight. "You've fucked him, why won't you fuck me?"
Then the blaze in his eyes is drowned out by tears threatening to fall, but you already knew that the two of you weren't the point. You take a breath, comb gentle fingers through Donghae's hair, and let yourself smile a little. "Don't you mean--" you ask softly, because you already know the answer and he won't want to say it, "--why won't he fuck you?"
He looks away. You kiss the corner of his mouth, the tear sliding down his cheek, and close your eyes as you whisper in his ear: "It's because he likes you better than me."
When he looks back up, you're surprised at how hard he's trying not to cry - he's come to you a million times before with tears in his eyes, but you think - understand - that maybe he doesn't want this to be important enough to cry over. He murmurs apologies, slips out of the bed, stands and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.
But no more than a minute passes before he crawls back in next to you, ducks his head against your shoulder and lets you wrap your arms around him.
"It's cold," he whispers.
trainee days, jaejoong pov.
It's 11:03 at night and Heechul's not back from filming yet when Donghae crawls into your bed. He's done it before - you both have - when things get a little too lonely or a little too cold, just to have someone to hold or cling to or kiss away worries; this time, though, there's no murmured excuse (bad dream, it's cold), just Donghae's arm tight around your waist and his mouth lining kisses up your neck until teeth find your earlobe and you shiver.
It takes only a quick, practiced shift for you to have Donghae pinned under you, pressed into the mattress. You kiss him - hard, as if that will erase the fact that his mouth and hands are nowhere near as clumsy as the first time you did this, and you're not sure if you're proud of that or not. The fabric of your pajama pants is so thin you can feel his fingernails digging into your hips through it, and you realize Donghae is whispering something: your name, urgent, muffled between kisses, but it's not until his fingers curl into the waistband of your pants that you realize what he's asking.
There's no decision involved - you catch his hands, pull back to look at him and find his eyes hot with something between anger and betrayal.
"What?" he demands, his voice tight. "You've fucked him, why won't you fuck me?"
Then the blaze in his eyes is drowned out by tears threatening to fall, but you already knew that the two of you weren't the point. You take a breath, comb gentle fingers through Donghae's hair, and let yourself smile a little. "Don't you mean--" you ask softly, because you already know the answer and he won't want to say it, "--why won't he fuck you?"
He looks away. You kiss the corner of his mouth, the tear sliding down his cheek, and close your eyes as you whisper in his ear: "It's because he likes you better than me."
When he looks back up, you're surprised at how hard he's trying not to cry - he's come to you a million times before with tears in his eyes, but you think - understand - that maybe he doesn't want this to be important enough to cry over. He murmurs apologies, slips out of the bed, stands and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.
But no more than a minute passes before he crawls back in next to you, ducks his head against your shoulder and lets you wrap your arms around him.
"It's cold," he whispers.