(no subject)
Title: The Art of Seduction
Pairing: Hanchul
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own 'em
Summary: How Hankyung seduces Heechul, and vice-versa.
.:Hankyung:.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Hankyung leans back in Heechul's lap, looking more than a little exasperated. "I'm stripping you. You know, so the whole sex thing will proceed a little smoother," then adds a "duh" for extra measure and goes back to unbuttoning Heechul's shirt.
Heechul lets out a shriek and thwacks him on the shoulder, pulling away with what most people would deem an exaggerated look of horror, except that Heechul wasn't exaggerating one bit. "What's wrong with you?" he gripes, nastiness clear in his voice, because he's baffled and miffed and confused, and dammit if there's one thing Kim Heechul hates, it's being confused. "You're acting weird."
"How so?" Hankyung's eyes rake over his body, and Heechul reluctantly squashes the urge to hit him.
"'Cause you're being all touchy-feely," he complains instead.
"Do you not like this?" Hankyung slowly slides a hand under Heechul's shirt and gently skims up his chest.
"Um," Heechul replies intelligently, his wit having flown out the window as soon as Hankyung made contact with his skin. "Er..."
Hankyung cocks his head to the side innocently, or as innocently as he could when he was half on top of Heechul with a suggestive leer fixed in place. "If the problem's with me being male, let me remind you that last night you were the one who said that sex with women too troublesome. Boring, even. And also because your partners always end up saying that the whole thing feels like lesbian-sex."
"No, man-sex is fine," Heechul croaks faintly when he manages to find his voice.
"So what's the big deal?" Hankyung sounded genuinely surprised. "It's consensual. And that's all that matters, right?" His roaming fingers trace over the waistline of Heechul's pants and disappear inside, one by one.
"Well, yeah, except for the fact that it's not consensual if one party is not willing," Heechul retorts, regaining some of his composure. He swats at Hankyung's hand, but Hankyung withdraws it just in time. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that said party is freaked out by this turn of events and would like to get back to watching TV, since his favorite show just started five minutes ago and he'll throw a berserk tantrum if he misses it-"
"Heechul," Hankyung says slowly, like when he'd just started learning Korean, "shut up." That being said he goes back to wrestling with Heechul's persistant clothing.
Heechul slumps in his chair dejectedly, beginning to regret his influence in Hankyung's vocabulary. What happened to the shy wimp who can barely string two words together in a coherent sentance?
"He never existed," Hankyung says flatly, working at Heechul's jean clasp. "Now are you going to help me or what?"
*
.:Heechul:.
"Take it off."
Hankyung raises an eyebrow. "That's sexual harrassment."
Heechul scowls and brandishes menacingly a cotton swab soaked in a vile-smelling gloop, "Shut up. I didn't come all the way to China to see you die of a splinter infection. Now take it off."
Zhou Mi dives for cover. Donghae watches the scene with a fascinated expression until Siwon grabs him by the collar and nearly bulldozes over Ryeowook in his haste for the door. Kyuhyun mutters a brief excuse and runs after Siwon, Ryeowook at his heels.
Hankyung stares at Heechul stubbornly, then at the medicine, then slowly inches toward the open door.
Heechul shoots him a dark look. "Don't make me come over there," he warns in an undertone of peevish displeasure, eyeing Hankyung with such sourness that Hankyung abandons all pretenses and makes a desperate leap for freedom; intercepted 3.5 seconds later when he's sent crashing into the wall by Heechul - who had lunged at him and hit head-on with a flying tackle - and they somehow wind up on the bed, teeth nipping at skin, hips grinding together, fingers scrabbling blindly at shoulders as clothes were hastily removed and carelessly tossed aside.
Henry glances up when a pair of jeans whips onto his music stand and immediately drops his violin in shock, before stumbling out of the room with his hands over his eyes and babbling unintelligible phrases in what sounded like seven different languages.
*
Pairing: Hanchul
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own 'em
Summary: How Hankyung seduces Heechul, and vice-versa.
.:Hankyung:.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Hankyung leans back in Heechul's lap, looking more than a little exasperated. "I'm stripping you. You know, so the whole sex thing will proceed a little smoother," then adds a "duh" for extra measure and goes back to unbuttoning Heechul's shirt.
Heechul lets out a shriek and thwacks him on the shoulder, pulling away with what most people would deem an exaggerated look of horror, except that Heechul wasn't exaggerating one bit. "What's wrong with you?" he gripes, nastiness clear in his voice, because he's baffled and miffed and confused, and dammit if there's one thing Kim Heechul hates, it's being confused. "You're acting weird."
"How so?" Hankyung's eyes rake over his body, and Heechul reluctantly squashes the urge to hit him.
"'Cause you're being all touchy-feely," he complains instead.
"Do you not like this?" Hankyung slowly slides a hand under Heechul's shirt and gently skims up his chest.
"Um," Heechul replies intelligently, his wit having flown out the window as soon as Hankyung made contact with his skin. "Er..."
Hankyung cocks his head to the side innocently, or as innocently as he could when he was half on top of Heechul with a suggestive leer fixed in place. "If the problem's with me being male, let me remind you that last night you were the one who said that sex with women too troublesome. Boring, even. And also because your partners always end up saying that the whole thing feels like lesbian-sex."
"No, man-sex is fine," Heechul croaks faintly when he manages to find his voice.
"So what's the big deal?" Hankyung sounded genuinely surprised. "It's consensual. And that's all that matters, right?" His roaming fingers trace over the waistline of Heechul's pants and disappear inside, one by one.
"Well, yeah, except for the fact that it's not consensual if one party is not willing," Heechul retorts, regaining some of his composure. He swats at Hankyung's hand, but Hankyung withdraws it just in time. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that said party is freaked out by this turn of events and would like to get back to watching TV, since his favorite show just started five minutes ago and he'll throw a berserk tantrum if he misses it-"
"Heechul," Hankyung says slowly, like when he'd just started learning Korean, "shut up." That being said he goes back to wrestling with Heechul's persistant clothing.
Heechul slumps in his chair dejectedly, beginning to regret his influence in Hankyung's vocabulary. What happened to the shy wimp who can barely string two words together in a coherent sentance?
"He never existed," Hankyung says flatly, working at Heechul's jean clasp. "Now are you going to help me or what?"
*
.:Heechul:.
"Take it off."
Hankyung raises an eyebrow. "That's sexual harrassment."
Heechul scowls and brandishes menacingly a cotton swab soaked in a vile-smelling gloop, "Shut up. I didn't come all the way to China to see you die of a splinter infection. Now take it off."
Zhou Mi dives for cover. Donghae watches the scene with a fascinated expression until Siwon grabs him by the collar and nearly bulldozes over Ryeowook in his haste for the door. Kyuhyun mutters a brief excuse and runs after Siwon, Ryeowook at his heels.
Hankyung stares at Heechul stubbornly, then at the medicine, then slowly inches toward the open door.
Heechul shoots him a dark look. "Don't make me come over there," he warns in an undertone of peevish displeasure, eyeing Hankyung with such sourness that Hankyung abandons all pretenses and makes a desperate leap for freedom; intercepted 3.5 seconds later when he's sent crashing into the wall by Heechul - who had lunged at him and hit head-on with a flying tackle - and they somehow wind up on the bed, teeth nipping at skin, hips grinding together, fingers scrabbling blindly at shoulders as clothes were hastily removed and carelessly tossed aside.
Henry glances up when a pair of jeans whips onto his music stand and immediately drops his violin in shock, before stumbling out of the room with his hands over his eyes and babbling unintelligible phrases in what sounded like seven different languages.
*