Furballs on Stubby Legs
Title: Furballs on Stubby Legs
Author: 23elevens
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4, 304
Characters: Jongkey, 2min, OT5
Genre: fail!humor, fluff, implied sex
Summary: Three guesses on the member and you get a year's worth of free blades.
Warnings: NIL
Disclaimer: A sudden idea that I had, but this isn’t up to my expectations :/. This was meant to be part of a phobia series that I wanted to get started on, but I totally forgot about the fear element and hence left it like that :/ Inspired by Jonghyun's hairy legs from this year's Idol Sports Championship pictures. Unbeta-ed. Please comment/provide critique!
So what are they saying? mouths Kibum from the other end of the hallway, lying all diva-princess-like on their modest black leather couch. Taemin turns back distractedly and flaps an ivory wrist at his hyung before wriggling on his stomach to get closer to the door, pressing his ear as best as he can to the narrow crack.
"...bum not talking to me lately?" That was Jonghyun's voice. Taemin ignores the uncomfortable chill of the floor against his bare cheek and listens closer.
"Did you finish his shampoo yet again or wrinkle the sole of his shoes or something?" Taemin stifles a giggle; Minho sounds really amused and bored.
A light thud sounds, followed by a muffled ow! and some scuffling. "Idiot."
"What do you want, hyung? I have, like, a soccer match to catch." Taemin contemplates scrambling back to the couch to join Kibum after hearing the squeaks of bed springs.
"I- I just want to know why Kibum's ignoring me!"
"Well, how would I know? He's your bitch, not mine you know." Taemin sniggers unconsciously at the evident humor in the rapper's baritone.
Something soft hits Taemin square on the head, and he bites on his tongue to keep from freaking out. The red-head twists irritably to face the other, and finds his annoyance quickly dismissed by the older boy.
What are they saying?
Taemin sighs inaudibly and exaggerates his mouth movements. About you. He then strains to catch the next few words, as Jonghyun's voice abruptly dips down.
"If you're not gonna tell me I swear-"
"Jesus, don't get your panties in a bunch, hyung. He's not exactly mad at you, alright?"
"Then why the hell am I in the doghouse?" Taemin resists the urge to barge in and clamp a hand over his hyung's mouth to stop him whining for the gazillionth time that day- it was only 1PM, for crying out loud.
"...fuck, hyung, okay I'll tell you! Kibum complained to me once- okay maybe a lot more than once- that he hates it when..shave." What shave?
Jonghyun snorts, so loud that even Kibum looks up from Vogue to look questioningly at Taemin. The younger boy ignores him and switches positions, so that he's lying on his back and pressing most of his ear to the considerably warmer door frame. "I hope he hasn't left his eyes in a dark corner of some Jeremy Scott product, because I fucking do shave my face."
"Exactly, hyung." Minho's voice sounds really, really bored.
"You see! Even you agree with me. Which reminds me, why didn't you tell him-"
"Clearly, your parents only gave you half a pea-brain. Kibum hates it when you don't sh-mmmf!"
"Shh! Not so loud!" Taemin barely makes out a couple more thuds and muffled curses.
"What should I do, Minho? I'm dying from just jacking off to the sound of his voice for the past two weeks! " Again, Taemin rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to muzzle Jonghyun and his stupid mouth.
"Shave like he wants you to. Problem solved."
"But- but what- fuck, Minho, I'm a man!"
"So am I, and I do shave too."
"That's called a pussy, bro-"
"Say that again and I'll call Kibu-" Minho threatens, and Taemin imagines the taller man purposely letting Kibum's name out a little louder than the rest of his sentence to intimidate the elder. It works, as per usual.
"Okay, sorry," Jonghyun squeaks. Taemin sighs and rubs up closer to the door again; his voice has almost dropped off the surface of earth.
"..I can't do that! Last Idol's Sportsmanship-or-whatever-the-fuck-it-was, G.O practically snorted out his innards upon hearing Jinki-hyung let slip about me shaving my legs!" The red-head almost followed in G.O hyung's lead, chortling heartily behind his palm.
"Do you care what G.O hyung says, or do you want to continue jacking off to the sound of Kibum's voice and nothing more?"
"But I-" Jonghyun's voice starts to rise again, but Taemin has heard enough. He picks himself off of the floor, brushing imaginary specks of dust off his Mickey-mouse tee (so he still liked Disney, did anyone have a problem with that?) and plopping down beside Kibum, causing the elder to scowl at the sudden jostling.
"So what were the muscle-heads yapping about inside?"
Taemin drew himself up to his fullest height (as much as his torso could stretch itself, obviously), chest puffed up pompously as he reported his findings. "Like I said, they were talking about you, umma. And Minho-hyung told Jonghyun-hyung you don't like it when he doesn't shave his legs-"
"That brat, I'm gonna slap him senseless with a frying pan later on-"
Taemin hurriedly continued over Kibum, not wanting any further catastrophes to happen. "And Jonghyun hyung apparently has been- what the hell is jacking off, umma?- but anyway he's been doing that to-" the boy was abruptly silenced as Kibum clapped a hand over his mouth, heart pounding erratically; his baby was not going to be corrupted in anyway.
"Mmmf- gerroff m- umma!"
"I'm sorry baby," Kibum says sincerely, palming the top of Taemin's soft head of hair a couple of times as the younger pouted. He stopped just when Taemin was getting really into the comfortable feeling, however, and his voice got deviously mischievous and determined. "Taemin-ah, we're going to treat Jonghyun hyung to a spa session, okay?"
"Um, in case you forgot, umma, I don't have any money after I lent all of it to you to fund your Jeremy Scott scarf," says Taemin deadpanned. Kibum has the decency to flush lightly before wrapping a motherly arm around the younger, slightly-pouting boy.
"You misunderstand, baby. Since I've been out of the whole sex thing from the day Jonghyun didn't fucking shave- why that face, baby?- and I'm get so fucking horny at the most random moments because I can't have good se- oh be quiet- I thought we should end our sexual frustrations by initiating a good shave. How's that?" Kibum rambles on, blithely ignoring the pained expressions etched deep into the red-head's face.
"Ugh, you can do that on your own, umma-"
"What do you mean, on my own?" Kibum's voice goes dangerously light, and Taemin gulps, curling his socked toes and rubbing them together nervously.
"I mean, I don't want to be around when you guys feel the- ahem- love and all-"
"Oh baby," Kibum coos, running featherlight fingers across the slim jawline of the maknae and grinning like a cheshire cat, "what if Jonghyun gets all violent about it all? You know your darling umma can never hold him still if he doesn't want anythi-"
"You can, umma. With sex," exclaims Taemin brightly, only to receive a sound whack around the head.
"Ow!"
Kibum ignores the little whine of protest, and continues on. “As I was saying you can help me with Project Hairless Dinosaur-“
“Dinosaurs don’t have hair, umma.”
“Are you challenging me, young man?” Kibum looks like a feral cat, with his upper lip curled above a silver of white, flashing teeth. Taemin shakes his head and scoots down onto the elder’s lap, hoping to find shelter.
Fortunately, Kibum’s bipolar tornado passes almost as quickly as it arrives, and he pats the younger’s head soothingly whilst continuing on his monologue. “Anyway, you can go get the shaving supplies, since obviously one razor isn’t enough on that furball. I’ll be staying home with him and keeping him in the house while waiting for you, baby. Once the job’s done, you’re free to wander outside and go to arcades or whatever for about- oh I don’t know, four hours or so before coming back?”
Taemin, like the good student he is, raises a ramrod-straight arm into the air. “A quick question, umma.”
“Shoot.”
“Why does it have to be me who does your dirty work all the time?” Taemin cannot help but whine and drag the last part out, pushing at the yielding flesh of Kibum’s skinny-covered thighs with stubborn forefingers.
“First of all, Jinki-hyung is obviously too clumsy and would thus foil my plans, accident or on purpose. Second of all, Minho will never lift his lazy butt an inch off the couch when it’s the soccer season, and I will never have the strength to move him. That leaves me with you, and third of all- also the most important point of my flawless argument, I must say- because you, are my son.” Kibum then gives himself self-congratulatory claps , smiling down at Taemin with a curiously demented air about him. Not that Taemin has never experienced such situations, of course- how could one forget the time when Kibum persuaded him to help punish Jinki-hyung for using his shampoo without his permission? The entire operation had blown up and concluded in tears (on Jinki’s part, obviously), ripped underpants and a well-spanked bottom.
“So I have to help you no matter what?” Taemin glances up at Kibum, doe-eyes maximized in size and aegyo turned on high. The latter only laughs and shakes his head, jumping up from the couch, causing Taemin’s surprised head to drop unceremoniously on a warm patch of sofa.
“Is there even a need to ask? And by the way, your aegyo is useless on me for as long as that head of absolutely horrible, mature-looking red hair stays.” Kibum shudders, sashaying off into the direction of the kitchen, presumably to get lunch ready before their next schedule. Taemin crawls up from the couch, stealth-mode kicked in with the intention of disappearing off the premises of SHINee’s dorm for as long as Jonghyun stays hairy. Unfortunately for him, Kibum notices the flash of red bobbing about, and turns around to give the teenager one last remark.
“Do not even think about running away for the rest of the time that Jonghyun stays a furball, my darling, or I’ll let my plan of helping you get Minho as a lay conveniently slip out of my mind.” Kibum grins beatifically and wriggles his fingers, turning on his heel to leave again. This time, Taemin tags along behind him desperately, holding onto the slim circle of waist.
“Umma, I’m yours!”
~
Jinki hums tunelessly as he twists the doorknob of SHINee’s shared bathroom clockwise, almost tripping over the single step as the door swings open. He is surprised to find Taemin hunched over the sink, with an extensive range of shaving equipment messily placed at the base of their sink.
“Taeminnie, what the-“ the younger boy whips around in pure shock at Jinki’s almost-silent arrival (but really, it wasn’t- how could a stumble-and-head-bang-on-wood combo ever be silent?), and Jinki suddenly finds himself in a rather promiscuous situation on the toilet seat; Taemin is facing him with his slim legs curled around his middle like a koala bear, face flushed a rosy red and a hand firmly pressed against his own full lips. Jinki feels himself growing hot in embarrassment and fear- was the eighteen-year-old about to rape him senseless?
Fortunately, the svelte boy scrambles off him in a flash, standing in front of him with his arms akimbo and a serious pout forming on the edge of his lips. Jinki looks from the maknae, to the door, to the shaving equipment and to the maknae again, eyes almost crossed in confusion.
“What the-“
“Why are you in here, hyung?”
“I don’t know- the bathroom door wasn’t locked and I wanted to pee!” says the leader defensively, scratching at the back of his neck and darting his eyes about nervously. “Jesus, Taeminnie, were you testing out every single kind of shaving cream and shit ever to be invented? Why?”
The skinnier boy ignores his hyung, going over to the sink and pacing back and forth on the slightly damp floor. “A shave or a wax, hyung?”
“Are you kidding me? A wax hurts like shit- according to the SNSD noonas,” Jinki adds on hurriedly upon catching the bemused expression on the teenager’s face. “Shave, definitely.”
“Roger.” Every piece of waxing strip, soothing cream and whatnot is carelessly thrown into the little plastic trash can. Jinki watches, chewing on the inside of his cheek and basically wondering if Taemin has finally lost his marbles.
As the red-head suddenly whips out a packet of new blades from his pocket and holds them under the ridiculously glaring fluorescent light, Jinki backs away as silently as he can away from the scene, one hand fumbling blindly for the handle of the door. However, as his fingers find a shaky hold on the cool metal, Taemin’s voice sounds, causing Jinki to turn whiter than a bleached sheet and jump about six feet into the air, the need to pee completely driven out of his mind.
“Where are you going, hyung?” Taemin’s teeth catch the light about the same time the packet of blades in his hand does, and Jinki suddenly realizes the maknae has really learnt much from his umma.
“Um- to look for Minho?” He shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, fiddling with a stray thread on his god-awful coat (as Jonghyun told him confidentially) that Kibum forced him to wear.
“Oh okay,” Taemin responds, turning back to the sink and getting all hunched up over it again. Jinki decides that this was probably the best time to l-
“Oh hyung,” Taemin singsongs, dropping his blades into the sink with a deafening chink and loping gracefully toward the leader. Jinki has to will himself not to wrench his arm out of the grip of the considerably slimmer hand’s and bolt for the safety of his room.
“Y-you need something, Taeminnie?” Jinki’s smile is almost as plastic as typical Hollywood star’s rack.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he coos, and once again Jinki notes the terrifying similarity between mother and son. “You could help me with my little task from umma, here.” Without waiting for a reply, Jinki is forcefully dragged towards the sink and trapped into a musty corner of the toilet with the help of Taemin’s pushy hipbone as the younger boy obliviously fills him in on The Plan. The leader listens, wide-eyed and shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.
“So you want me to help you hold Jonghyun down while Kibum attempts to de-hair him?” Jinki stutters, blinking rapidly. Taemin laughs and pats his head.
“Clever Jinki-hyung.”
“But I don’t want-“
“Chicken,” Taemin proudly announces. Jinki’s brain is still a murky blob of confusion, and thus doesn’t process his all-time favorite word the first time.
“W-what?”
“Chicken for you if you give me hand. Look at me, hyung- I’m so skinny and weak and everything; could you really bear to let Jonghyun-hyung pummel the shit out of me five seconds after my pathetic attempt of holding him down?” Taemin winks creepily then, and as if to prove the seriousness of his point, he gets off of Jinki and sings the chicken song that Jinki himself once made up for the love of his life as he messily gathers the shaving equipment back into a plastic bag.
Jinki only cringes at Taemin’s off-key voice to his song and nods dumbly, licking his lips distractedly. He adds the purifying of Taemin from Kibum’s influences to his mental to-do list, too.
~
Jonghyun finally succeeds in plugging the key into the door after his twelfth attempt, opening it with a lazy bang and stumbling into the dorm with three left feet. He blearily kicks his shoes to the side (because Kibum could honestly suck his dick- no innuendos intended- if he made a fuss about it upon seeing his drunken state) and coughs a little bit, sniffing under his arms for a quick check. God, he really did smell. The brunette is about ready to sneak into his room to grab a fresh towel and some clothes when he notices that the lights are still on, and a quick glance at his watch tells him that it is currently 2:03AM right now. Strange. Jonghyun brings his hands to his half-shut eyes and gives them a good rub, grunting lightly in satisfaction. A giggle resonates somewhere in front of him, and he immediately brings his hands down in surprise.
Kibum is kneeling on the couch with his stomach pressed flat against the backing, bare arms folded seductively over the top of it and smiling what Jonghyun liked to think of as a secret smile at him. He returns a smile to the younger male, coupling it with a cocky lift of his eyebrow.
“How come you’re talking to me again all of a sudden, baby?” Jonghyun takes the opportunity of Kibum’s silence to swoop his torso downward, tilting the feline boy’s face a little higher and running the pad of his thumb across the taller’s beautiful, sharp jawline. He feels a familiar sensation down south, and smirks a little harder when Kibum doesn’t recoil from his touch.
“You’re smoking hot tonight, baby,” Jonghyun says, attempting to close the distance between them with the help of his lips. To his utmost disappointment, Kibum isn’t having any of that, and the blonde slides his torso backward, shaking his head ever so seductively. The sleeve of his oversized tank top droops from the milky shoulder anchors just then, and Jonghyun’s breath hitches at the incredibly gorgeous sight in front of him.
“Not tonight, sugar,” purrs Kibum, taking care to slide off the seat backward and stand up, showing the elder that he hasn’t any pants on over his Spongebob boxers. This, apparently, proves too much for Jonghyun, and the buffer male lurches clumsily around the seat, arms already sliding out of the leather jacket.
Kibum speaks again, and Jonghyun is thrown into confusion. “Darling, The Plan operates now.”
“Wha-?” But the brunette doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence; he finds himself being anonymously restrained by two beings, each with an arm looped under his armpit to hold him down. Jonghyun kicks uselessly at the air as he is dragged deeper into the dorm, eyes wide and focused on Kibum in panic now.
“Baby, wha-“ Jonghyun finds himself in his room and thrown on the bed- why the hell was it taped over with a sheet of plastic?-, spread-eagled. He takes advantage of the fact that his captives have temporarily let go of him to reach up and grab at the headboard to drag himself up and get the hell out of here, but warm manacles close themselves around either of Jonghyun’s wrists, and they are tugged mercilessly higher. The warmth is quickly replaced by cool metal, and the vertically-challenged male looks up in horror to find himself chained to the bed with honest-to-god real handcuffs. He lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp of fear.
“Sorry, hyung.” A horribly familiar voice chimes from his side, and Jonghyun almost cracks his neck in his haste to turn around and identify at least one of the faces of his captor. What he sees has him choking on his own spit in disbelief and astonishment.
“T-Taemin? Jinki-hyung?”
“Kibum-umma asked,” shrugs Taemin, wasting no time to go over to the other side of the bed and chain the frantically kicking male’s legs down. “Jinki-hyung, a little help-“
“Which reminds me, darling. What in the world is Jinki-hyung doing here?” Jonghyun’s head shoots downward to glare weakly at a seemingly unconcerned-sounding Kibum. The latter is rummaging through a huge plastic bag and arranging several unknown bottles and equipment on a makeshift table- his room looks like an operating theatre, Jonghyun notes, the last of the alcoholic haze in his brain evaporating and leaving him with jelly-like bones. On closer inspection of the bottles and various tools, he concludes that they were all- shaving material?
“Umma, don’t be mad!” Taemin is by Kibum’s side in a flash, unnecessarily arranging the bottles in rainbow-colored order and flushing furiously. “Jinki-hyung walked in on me one day while I was in the toilet sorting out these bottles, so I just got him to help in exchange for some chicken. Oh, and he came up with the handcuff and rope idea, too.”
Kibum turns to face Jinki, an amused grin playing on his full lips as Jonghyun watches with half-lust and half-indignation. “Not bad, hyung. I believed that you would cause a scene rather than help out.”
“Well, yeah, I tried-“ Jinki starts, looking proud of himself all of a sudden. Jonghyun snorts with irritation just as Kibum opens his mouth to cut in.
“You can go now, hyung. Thanks a lot.”
“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Jonghyun groans in frustration, realizing that he could very well be ranting to empty space; his band members- scratch that, those fucking kidnappers- were all focused in their own little bubble.
“Um, can I stay and watch Jonghyun’s de-hairing session?” What?
“Oh, do let him, umma, he did help after all.”
Kibum sighs dramatically and brandishes a pair of heavy-duty scissors from somewhere under the bed. “Alright. Darling, get off the bed for a minute- I need to cut away his pants.”
Kibum’s sentence sets Jonghyun off again as his eyes widen to the size of golfballs. “Baby, do not do that-“
“And why not?” Kibum pauses for a moment, holding the scissors high into the air. The grating slide of the scissors as the slim blonde opens and closes them a few times is hell on Jonghyun’s suddenly-hyperactive ears.
“They’re fucking expensive, and they’re new!” Jonghyun screeches once again as Kibum blatantly ignores his outburst and brings the scissors to the hem of his seven-hundred-and-thirty-dollar clothing, ruining the first strand of material with a quick close of the tool.
“You should have listened to me when I told you they were goddamn ugly and not to buy them in the first place, honey.” Kibum hums airily as the blade slices through the material, sometimes grazing unkindly over Jonghyun’s bare legs. He struggles uselessly.
“Kim Kibum, I swear-“
“Ugh, gag him, darling.” A ball of tightly fisted cloth with a questionable odor is jammed deep into Jonghyun’s mouth by means of a good long pinch to his nose. The lead singer gags incoherently as his eyes bulge in disgust and fear. Kibum happens to look over then, and he wrinkles his nose.
“Ew, Taemin. I didn’t ask for a sock in his face, but that’ll have to do for now.” Kibum stares at the unkempt (stubby) legs of his lover and shoots a baleful glare at the bound boy. Without another word, the blonde uncaps a massive aerosol spray can and slathers the planks of hair liberally with white foam. Jonghyun flaps minutely about his fixed position and moans from behind the sock, cheeks painted fire engine red.
“Sorry hyung,” Taemin cries out above the deafening hiss of the shaving cream, padding over to his head and sympathetically wiping the sheen of sweat off the elder’s forehead with a tissue. “It’ll be over soon, I promise. I didn’t mean to do this to you either-“
A maniacal snort arises from Kibum’s lips, and Jonghyun momentarily stops thrashing about to look pleadingly at the younger male. He is, of course, ignored once again, Kibum replies “Says him, baby. He decided to help me in exchange for a frog-eyed monster in his bed by the end of the week.”
Jonghyun’s eyes bulge for the millionth time today, and his dignity is stripped away agonizing bit by agonizing bit, as were the hairs on his legs by Kibum’s deft razor-work. He is only able to keep his eyes open up to the point where Kibum shaves his kneecap and cuts him by accident- “Sorry baby, but honestly, who the fuck has so much fur on their knees?”. Jonghyun wants to scream at the other boy that he absolutely does not have fur, and that it is against human rights (he was honestly just throwing every bit of shit he could come up with) to keep him bound and gagged against his will, but he is of course unable to. The shock laps lazily at his little dino-head and being pea-brained (as Kibum liked to label him when he started derping- read: not listening to Kibum), he falls into a dead faint against the headboard. The last thing he hears is Kibum wondering aloud on whether he should just shave his horribly hairy balls and equipment.
“This is fun,” Jinki says, rubbing his eyes and grinning like a spastic leader on crack.
~
Taemin winces once again into Minho’s lap as a wanton moan echoes around the dorm. Jinki is blissfully ignoring the deafening cries of pleasure, courtesy of his dongsaengs, preferring to snuggle up to The Nutcracker and a bucket of chicken inside his room. Minho just grits his teeth and palms the top of Taemin’s head, accidentally bumping the younger boy’s nose against his crotch. Taemin whines, though out of discontent or something else, Minho does not know. The taller boy feels an embarrassingly amazing pool of heat coiling around his insides when Taemin’s head bumps against it again, this time not-so-accidentally, and he glances down to meet the maknae’s sudden change of mood.
Jinki chews slowly on a drumstick, his lips shining with a light sheen of oil from the light of his television in his darkened room. His full lips pulls and tug into an uncomfortable pout as a particular touching scene comes on just as an animalistic whine and growl ripple through the still air. He grumbles, and reluctantly halts his movie and puts his bucket of chicken down and shuffles to the door. The next volley of mewls stop him dead in his tracks for half a millisecond, however, and have him jumping back into with his chicken and his movie turned on high.
That wasn’t Taemin and Minho.. Was it?
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Author: 23elevens
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4, 304
Characters: Jongkey, 2min, OT5
Genre: fail!humor, fluff, implied sex
Summary: Three guesses on the member and you get a year's worth of free blades.
Warnings: NIL
Disclaimer: A sudden idea that I had, but this isn’t up to my expectations :/. This was meant to be part of a phobia series that I wanted to get started on, but I totally forgot about the fear element and hence left it like that :/ Inspired by Jonghyun's hairy legs from this year's Idol Sports Championship pictures. Unbeta-ed. Please comment/provide critique!
So what are they saying? mouths Kibum from the other end of the hallway, lying all diva-princess-like on their modest black leather couch. Taemin turns back distractedly and flaps an ivory wrist at his hyung before wriggling on his stomach to get closer to the door, pressing his ear as best as he can to the narrow crack.
"...bum not talking to me lately?" That was Jonghyun's voice. Taemin ignores the uncomfortable chill of the floor against his bare cheek and listens closer.
"Did you finish his shampoo yet again or wrinkle the sole of his shoes or something?" Taemin stifles a giggle; Minho sounds really amused and bored.
A light thud sounds, followed by a muffled ow! and some scuffling. "Idiot."
"What do you want, hyung? I have, like, a soccer match to catch." Taemin contemplates scrambling back to the couch to join Kibum after hearing the squeaks of bed springs.
"I- I just want to know why Kibum's ignoring me!"
"Well, how would I know? He's your bitch, not mine you know." Taemin sniggers unconsciously at the evident humor in the rapper's baritone.
Something soft hits Taemin square on the head, and he bites on his tongue to keep from freaking out. The red-head twists irritably to face the other, and finds his annoyance quickly dismissed by the older boy.
What are they saying?
Taemin sighs inaudibly and exaggerates his mouth movements. About you. He then strains to catch the next few words, as Jonghyun's voice abruptly dips down.
"If you're not gonna tell me I swear-"
"Jesus, don't get your panties in a bunch, hyung. He's not exactly mad at you, alright?"
"Then why the hell am I in the doghouse?" Taemin resists the urge to barge in and clamp a hand over his hyung's mouth to stop him whining for the gazillionth time that day- it was only 1PM, for crying out loud.
"...fuck, hyung, okay I'll tell you! Kibum complained to me once- okay maybe a lot more than once- that he hates it when..shave." What shave?
Jonghyun snorts, so loud that even Kibum looks up from Vogue to look questioningly at Taemin. The younger boy ignores him and switches positions, so that he's lying on his back and pressing most of his ear to the considerably warmer door frame. "I hope he hasn't left his eyes in a dark corner of some Jeremy Scott product, because I fucking do shave my face."
"Exactly, hyung." Minho's voice sounds really, really bored.
"You see! Even you agree with me. Which reminds me, why didn't you tell him-"
"Clearly, your parents only gave you half a pea-brain. Kibum hates it when you don't sh-mmmf!"
"Shh! Not so loud!" Taemin barely makes out a couple more thuds and muffled curses.
"What should I do, Minho? I'm dying from just jacking off to the sound of his voice for the past two weeks! " Again, Taemin rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to muzzle Jonghyun and his stupid mouth.
"Shave like he wants you to. Problem solved."
"But- but what- fuck, Minho, I'm a man!"
"So am I, and I do shave too."
"That's called a pussy, bro-"
"Say that again and I'll call Kibu-" Minho threatens, and Taemin imagines the taller man purposely letting Kibum's name out a little louder than the rest of his sentence to intimidate the elder. It works, as per usual.
"Okay, sorry," Jonghyun squeaks. Taemin sighs and rubs up closer to the door again; his voice has almost dropped off the surface of earth.
"..I can't do that! Last Idol's Sportsmanship-or-whatever-the-fuck-it-was, G.O practically snorted out his innards upon hearing Jinki-hyung let slip about me shaving my legs!" The red-head almost followed in G.O hyung's lead, chortling heartily behind his palm.
"Do you care what G.O hyung says, or do you want to continue jacking off to the sound of Kibum's voice and nothing more?"
"But I-" Jonghyun's voice starts to rise again, but Taemin has heard enough. He picks himself off of the floor, brushing imaginary specks of dust off his Mickey-mouse tee (so he still liked Disney, did anyone have a problem with that?) and plopping down beside Kibum, causing the elder to scowl at the sudden jostling.
"So what were the muscle-heads yapping about inside?"
Taemin drew himself up to his fullest height (as much as his torso could stretch itself, obviously), chest puffed up pompously as he reported his findings. "Like I said, they were talking about you, umma. And Minho-hyung told Jonghyun-hyung you don't like it when he doesn't shave his legs-"
"That brat, I'm gonna slap him senseless with a frying pan later on-"
Taemin hurriedly continued over Kibum, not wanting any further catastrophes to happen. "And Jonghyun hyung apparently has been- what the hell is jacking off, umma?- but anyway he's been doing that to-" the boy was abruptly silenced as Kibum clapped a hand over his mouth, heart pounding erratically; his baby was not going to be corrupted in anyway.
"Mmmf- gerroff m- umma!"
"I'm sorry baby," Kibum says sincerely, palming the top of Taemin's soft head of hair a couple of times as the younger pouted. He stopped just when Taemin was getting really into the comfortable feeling, however, and his voice got deviously mischievous and determined. "Taemin-ah, we're going to treat Jonghyun hyung to a spa session, okay?"
"Um, in case you forgot, umma, I don't have any money after I lent all of it to you to fund your Jeremy Scott scarf," says Taemin deadpanned. Kibum has the decency to flush lightly before wrapping a motherly arm around the younger, slightly-pouting boy.
"You misunderstand, baby. Since I've been out of the whole sex thing from the day Jonghyun didn't fucking shave- why that face, baby?- and I'm get so fucking horny at the most random moments because I can't have good se- oh be quiet- I thought we should end our sexual frustrations by initiating a good shave. How's that?" Kibum rambles on, blithely ignoring the pained expressions etched deep into the red-head's face.
"Ugh, you can do that on your own, umma-"
"What do you mean, on my own?" Kibum's voice goes dangerously light, and Taemin gulps, curling his socked toes and rubbing them together nervously.
"I mean, I don't want to be around when you guys feel the- ahem- love and all-"
"Oh baby," Kibum coos, running featherlight fingers across the slim jawline of the maknae and grinning like a cheshire cat, "what if Jonghyun gets all violent about it all? You know your darling umma can never hold him still if he doesn't want anythi-"
"You can, umma. With sex," exclaims Taemin brightly, only to receive a sound whack around the head.
"Ow!"
Kibum ignores the little whine of protest, and continues on. “As I was saying you can help me with Project Hairless Dinosaur-“
“Dinosaurs don’t have hair, umma.”
“Are you challenging me, young man?” Kibum looks like a feral cat, with his upper lip curled above a silver of white, flashing teeth. Taemin shakes his head and scoots down onto the elder’s lap, hoping to find shelter.
Fortunately, Kibum’s bipolar tornado passes almost as quickly as it arrives, and he pats the younger’s head soothingly whilst continuing on his monologue. “Anyway, you can go get the shaving supplies, since obviously one razor isn’t enough on that furball. I’ll be staying home with him and keeping him in the house while waiting for you, baby. Once the job’s done, you’re free to wander outside and go to arcades or whatever for about- oh I don’t know, four hours or so before coming back?”
Taemin, like the good student he is, raises a ramrod-straight arm into the air. “A quick question, umma.”
“Shoot.”
“Why does it have to be me who does your dirty work all the time?” Taemin cannot help but whine and drag the last part out, pushing at the yielding flesh of Kibum’s skinny-covered thighs with stubborn forefingers.
“First of all, Jinki-hyung is obviously too clumsy and would thus foil my plans, accident or on purpose. Second of all, Minho will never lift his lazy butt an inch off the couch when it’s the soccer season, and I will never have the strength to move him. That leaves me with you, and third of all- also the most important point of my flawless argument, I must say- because you, are my son.” Kibum then gives himself self-congratulatory claps , smiling down at Taemin with a curiously demented air about him. Not that Taemin has never experienced such situations, of course- how could one forget the time when Kibum persuaded him to help punish Jinki-hyung for using his shampoo without his permission? The entire operation had blown up and concluded in tears (on Jinki’s part, obviously), ripped underpants and a well-spanked bottom.
“So I have to help you no matter what?” Taemin glances up at Kibum, doe-eyes maximized in size and aegyo turned on high. The latter only laughs and shakes his head, jumping up from the couch, causing Taemin’s surprised head to drop unceremoniously on a warm patch of sofa.
“Is there even a need to ask? And by the way, your aegyo is useless on me for as long as that head of absolutely horrible, mature-looking red hair stays.” Kibum shudders, sashaying off into the direction of the kitchen, presumably to get lunch ready before their next schedule. Taemin crawls up from the couch, stealth-mode kicked in with the intention of disappearing off the premises of SHINee’s dorm for as long as Jonghyun stays hairy. Unfortunately for him, Kibum notices the flash of red bobbing about, and turns around to give the teenager one last remark.
“Do not even think about running away for the rest of the time that Jonghyun stays a furball, my darling, or I’ll let my plan of helping you get Minho as a lay conveniently slip out of my mind.” Kibum grins beatifically and wriggles his fingers, turning on his heel to leave again. This time, Taemin tags along behind him desperately, holding onto the slim circle of waist.
“Umma, I’m yours!”
~
Jinki hums tunelessly as he twists the doorknob of SHINee’s shared bathroom clockwise, almost tripping over the single step as the door swings open. He is surprised to find Taemin hunched over the sink, with an extensive range of shaving equipment messily placed at the base of their sink.
“Taeminnie, what the-“ the younger boy whips around in pure shock at Jinki’s almost-silent arrival (but really, it wasn’t- how could a stumble-and-head-bang-on-wood combo ever be silent?), and Jinki suddenly finds himself in a rather promiscuous situation on the toilet seat; Taemin is facing him with his slim legs curled around his middle like a koala bear, face flushed a rosy red and a hand firmly pressed against his own full lips. Jinki feels himself growing hot in embarrassment and fear- was the eighteen-year-old about to rape him senseless?
Fortunately, the svelte boy scrambles off him in a flash, standing in front of him with his arms akimbo and a serious pout forming on the edge of his lips. Jinki looks from the maknae, to the door, to the shaving equipment and to the maknae again, eyes almost crossed in confusion.
“What the-“
“Why are you in here, hyung?”
“I don’t know- the bathroom door wasn’t locked and I wanted to pee!” says the leader defensively, scratching at the back of his neck and darting his eyes about nervously. “Jesus, Taeminnie, were you testing out every single kind of shaving cream and shit ever to be invented? Why?”
The skinnier boy ignores his hyung, going over to the sink and pacing back and forth on the slightly damp floor. “A shave or a wax, hyung?”
“Are you kidding me? A wax hurts like shit- according to the SNSD noonas,” Jinki adds on hurriedly upon catching the bemused expression on the teenager’s face. “Shave, definitely.”
“Roger.” Every piece of waxing strip, soothing cream and whatnot is carelessly thrown into the little plastic trash can. Jinki watches, chewing on the inside of his cheek and basically wondering if Taemin has finally lost his marbles.
As the red-head suddenly whips out a packet of new blades from his pocket and holds them under the ridiculously glaring fluorescent light, Jinki backs away as silently as he can away from the scene, one hand fumbling blindly for the handle of the door. However, as his fingers find a shaky hold on the cool metal, Taemin’s voice sounds, causing Jinki to turn whiter than a bleached sheet and jump about six feet into the air, the need to pee completely driven out of his mind.
“Where are you going, hyung?” Taemin’s teeth catch the light about the same time the packet of blades in his hand does, and Jinki suddenly realizes the maknae has really learnt much from his umma.
“Um- to look for Minho?” He shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, fiddling with a stray thread on his god-awful coat (as Jonghyun told him confidentially) that Kibum forced him to wear.
“Oh okay,” Taemin responds, turning back to the sink and getting all hunched up over it again. Jinki decides that this was probably the best time to l-
“Oh hyung,” Taemin singsongs, dropping his blades into the sink with a deafening chink and loping gracefully toward the leader. Jinki has to will himself not to wrench his arm out of the grip of the considerably slimmer hand’s and bolt for the safety of his room.
“Y-you need something, Taeminnie?” Jinki’s smile is almost as plastic as typical Hollywood star’s rack.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he coos, and once again Jinki notes the terrifying similarity between mother and son. “You could help me with my little task from umma, here.” Without waiting for a reply, Jinki is forcefully dragged towards the sink and trapped into a musty corner of the toilet with the help of Taemin’s pushy hipbone as the younger boy obliviously fills him in on The Plan. The leader listens, wide-eyed and shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.
“So you want me to help you hold Jonghyun down while Kibum attempts to de-hair him?” Jinki stutters, blinking rapidly. Taemin laughs and pats his head.
“Clever Jinki-hyung.”
“But I don’t want-“
“Chicken,” Taemin proudly announces. Jinki’s brain is still a murky blob of confusion, and thus doesn’t process his all-time favorite word the first time.
“W-what?”
“Chicken for you if you give me hand. Look at me, hyung- I’m so skinny and weak and everything; could you really bear to let Jonghyun-hyung pummel the shit out of me five seconds after my pathetic attempt of holding him down?” Taemin winks creepily then, and as if to prove the seriousness of his point, he gets off of Jinki and sings the chicken song that Jinki himself once made up for the love of his life as he messily gathers the shaving equipment back into a plastic bag.
Jinki only cringes at Taemin’s off-key voice to his song and nods dumbly, licking his lips distractedly. He adds the purifying of Taemin from Kibum’s influences to his mental to-do list, too.
~
Jonghyun finally succeeds in plugging the key into the door after his twelfth attempt, opening it with a lazy bang and stumbling into the dorm with three left feet. He blearily kicks his shoes to the side (because Kibum could honestly suck his dick- no innuendos intended- if he made a fuss about it upon seeing his drunken state) and coughs a little bit, sniffing under his arms for a quick check. God, he really did smell. The brunette is about ready to sneak into his room to grab a fresh towel and some clothes when he notices that the lights are still on, and a quick glance at his watch tells him that it is currently 2:03AM right now. Strange. Jonghyun brings his hands to his half-shut eyes and gives them a good rub, grunting lightly in satisfaction. A giggle resonates somewhere in front of him, and he immediately brings his hands down in surprise.
Kibum is kneeling on the couch with his stomach pressed flat against the backing, bare arms folded seductively over the top of it and smiling what Jonghyun liked to think of as a secret smile at him. He returns a smile to the younger male, coupling it with a cocky lift of his eyebrow.
“How come you’re talking to me again all of a sudden, baby?” Jonghyun takes the opportunity of Kibum’s silence to swoop his torso downward, tilting the feline boy’s face a little higher and running the pad of his thumb across the taller’s beautiful, sharp jawline. He feels a familiar sensation down south, and smirks a little harder when Kibum doesn’t recoil from his touch.
“You’re smoking hot tonight, baby,” Jonghyun says, attempting to close the distance between them with the help of his lips. To his utmost disappointment, Kibum isn’t having any of that, and the blonde slides his torso backward, shaking his head ever so seductively. The sleeve of his oversized tank top droops from the milky shoulder anchors just then, and Jonghyun’s breath hitches at the incredibly gorgeous sight in front of him.
“Not tonight, sugar,” purrs Kibum, taking care to slide off the seat backward and stand up, showing the elder that he hasn’t any pants on over his Spongebob boxers. This, apparently, proves too much for Jonghyun, and the buffer male lurches clumsily around the seat, arms already sliding out of the leather jacket.
Kibum speaks again, and Jonghyun is thrown into confusion. “Darling, The Plan operates now.”
“Wha-?” But the brunette doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence; he finds himself being anonymously restrained by two beings, each with an arm looped under his armpit to hold him down. Jonghyun kicks uselessly at the air as he is dragged deeper into the dorm, eyes wide and focused on Kibum in panic now.
“Baby, wha-“ Jonghyun finds himself in his room and thrown on the bed- why the hell was it taped over with a sheet of plastic?-, spread-eagled. He takes advantage of the fact that his captives have temporarily let go of him to reach up and grab at the headboard to drag himself up and get the hell out of here, but warm manacles close themselves around either of Jonghyun’s wrists, and they are tugged mercilessly higher. The warmth is quickly replaced by cool metal, and the vertically-challenged male looks up in horror to find himself chained to the bed with honest-to-god real handcuffs. He lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp of fear.
“Sorry, hyung.” A horribly familiar voice chimes from his side, and Jonghyun almost cracks his neck in his haste to turn around and identify at least one of the faces of his captor. What he sees has him choking on his own spit in disbelief and astonishment.
“T-Taemin? Jinki-hyung?”
“Kibum-umma asked,” shrugs Taemin, wasting no time to go over to the other side of the bed and chain the frantically kicking male’s legs down. “Jinki-hyung, a little help-“
“Which reminds me, darling. What in the world is Jinki-hyung doing here?” Jonghyun’s head shoots downward to glare weakly at a seemingly unconcerned-sounding Kibum. The latter is rummaging through a huge plastic bag and arranging several unknown bottles and equipment on a makeshift table- his room looks like an operating theatre, Jonghyun notes, the last of the alcoholic haze in his brain evaporating and leaving him with jelly-like bones. On closer inspection of the bottles and various tools, he concludes that they were all- shaving material?
“Umma, don’t be mad!” Taemin is by Kibum’s side in a flash, unnecessarily arranging the bottles in rainbow-colored order and flushing furiously. “Jinki-hyung walked in on me one day while I was in the toilet sorting out these bottles, so I just got him to help in exchange for some chicken. Oh, and he came up with the handcuff and rope idea, too.”
Kibum turns to face Jinki, an amused grin playing on his full lips as Jonghyun watches with half-lust and half-indignation. “Not bad, hyung. I believed that you would cause a scene rather than help out.”
“Well, yeah, I tried-“ Jinki starts, looking proud of himself all of a sudden. Jonghyun snorts with irritation just as Kibum opens his mouth to cut in.
“You can go now, hyung. Thanks a lot.”
“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Jonghyun groans in frustration, realizing that he could very well be ranting to empty space; his band members- scratch that, those fucking kidnappers- were all focused in their own little bubble.
“Um, can I stay and watch Jonghyun’s de-hairing session?” What?
“Oh, do let him, umma, he did help after all.”
Kibum sighs dramatically and brandishes a pair of heavy-duty scissors from somewhere under the bed. “Alright. Darling, get off the bed for a minute- I need to cut away his pants.”
Kibum’s sentence sets Jonghyun off again as his eyes widen to the size of golfballs. “Baby, do not do that-“
“And why not?” Kibum pauses for a moment, holding the scissors high into the air. The grating slide of the scissors as the slim blonde opens and closes them a few times is hell on Jonghyun’s suddenly-hyperactive ears.
“They’re fucking expensive, and they’re new!” Jonghyun screeches once again as Kibum blatantly ignores his outburst and brings the scissors to the hem of his seven-hundred-and-thirty-dollar clothing, ruining the first strand of material with a quick close of the tool.
“You should have listened to me when I told you they were goddamn ugly and not to buy them in the first place, honey.” Kibum hums airily as the blade slices through the material, sometimes grazing unkindly over Jonghyun’s bare legs. He struggles uselessly.
“Kim Kibum, I swear-“
“Ugh, gag him, darling.” A ball of tightly fisted cloth with a questionable odor is jammed deep into Jonghyun’s mouth by means of a good long pinch to his nose. The lead singer gags incoherently as his eyes bulge in disgust and fear. Kibum happens to look over then, and he wrinkles his nose.
“Ew, Taemin. I didn’t ask for a sock in his face, but that’ll have to do for now.” Kibum stares at the unkempt (stubby) legs of his lover and shoots a baleful glare at the bound boy. Without another word, the blonde uncaps a massive aerosol spray can and slathers the planks of hair liberally with white foam. Jonghyun flaps minutely about his fixed position and moans from behind the sock, cheeks painted fire engine red.
“Sorry hyung,” Taemin cries out above the deafening hiss of the shaving cream, padding over to his head and sympathetically wiping the sheen of sweat off the elder’s forehead with a tissue. “It’ll be over soon, I promise. I didn’t mean to do this to you either-“
A maniacal snort arises from Kibum’s lips, and Jonghyun momentarily stops thrashing about to look pleadingly at the younger male. He is, of course, ignored once again, Kibum replies “Says him, baby. He decided to help me in exchange for a frog-eyed monster in his bed by the end of the week.”
Jonghyun’s eyes bulge for the millionth time today, and his dignity is stripped away agonizing bit by agonizing bit, as were the hairs on his legs by Kibum’s deft razor-work. He is only able to keep his eyes open up to the point where Kibum shaves his kneecap and cuts him by accident- “Sorry baby, but honestly, who the fuck has so much fur on their knees?”. Jonghyun wants to scream at the other boy that he absolutely does not have fur, and that it is against human rights (he was honestly just throwing every bit of shit he could come up with) to keep him bound and gagged against his will, but he is of course unable to. The shock laps lazily at his little dino-head and being pea-brained (as Kibum liked to label him when he started derping- read: not listening to Kibum), he falls into a dead faint against the headboard. The last thing he hears is Kibum wondering aloud on whether he should just shave his horribly hairy balls and equipment.
“This is fun,” Jinki says, rubbing his eyes and grinning like a spastic leader on crack.
~
Taemin winces once again into Minho’s lap as a wanton moan echoes around the dorm. Jinki is blissfully ignoring the deafening cries of pleasure, courtesy of his dongsaengs, preferring to snuggle up to The Nutcracker and a bucket of chicken inside his room. Minho just grits his teeth and palms the top of Taemin’s head, accidentally bumping the younger boy’s nose against his crotch. Taemin whines, though out of discontent or something else, Minho does not know. The taller boy feels an embarrassingly amazing pool of heat coiling around his insides when Taemin’s head bumps against it again, this time not-so-accidentally, and he glances down to meet the maknae’s sudden change of mood.
Jinki chews slowly on a drumstick, his lips shining with a light sheen of oil from the light of his television in his darkened room. His full lips pulls and tug into an uncomfortable pout as a particular touching scene comes on just as an animalistic whine and growl ripple through the still air. He grumbles, and reluctantly halts his movie and puts his bucket of chicken down and shuffles to the door. The next volley of mewls stop him dead in his tracks for half a millisecond, however, and have him jumping back into with his chicken and his movie turned on high.
That wasn’t Taemin and Minho.. Was it?
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