[suju] ficlet: caveats (donghae/hyukjae)
title: caveats
written: 310310
summary: donghae can't be held responsible for what ensues when hyukjae's in short shorts and 3-inch heels. wc: 487.
warnings: fake!PWP, ie. badly written almost-pron.
notes: so I just got news that I will be studying at NYU this fall, so to celebrate my entry into this hallowed institution, this is what I write. This pic and this vid messed sufficiently with my brain that I couldn't help myself.
donghae discovers a side of himself he never knew coming to life when hyukjae stumbles and lands in front of him in a tangled sprawl of long long limbs. it shouldn’t be any different from the thousands of other times he’s seen hyukjae in those ridiculously tattered shorts he absolutely refuses to abandon, but other times didn’t have the sight of hyukjae’s feet in white three-inch heels, ankles made inexplicably delicate by the straps encircling them, legs startlingly more slender and shit damnit too sexy and donghae senses this new him unfurling and slipping forward to inhabit his skin as he watches hyukjae scrambling to his knees, head down and face further hidden by the brown fringe of hair.
three steps forward and he’s in hyukjae’s face, literally, forcing hyukjae to lean back slightly, one hand against the floor for balance, neck craned upwards to meet donghae’s eyes. donghae waits, smouldering gaze unwavering, as hyukjae’s expression goes from surprised to confused to embarrassed and finally there’s that little flicker of fear before hyukjae tries to turn his head away.
it’s easy, too easy, to reach out and grasp hyukjae’s cheeks, forcing him to look back up, squeezing just that little bit harder than all those moments in the past when the action was done in jest. donghae savours the give of the soft flesh beneath his fingers, the way it delineates even more the sharpness of hyukjae’s cheekbones. he likes the flush of pink staining hyukjae’s skin as he lets go to run his hand over hyukjae’s hair, while hyukjae’s eyes skitter everywhere, until finally they threaten to flutter closed.
donghae’s grip tightens abruptly, jerking hyukjae’s head back, and the shock of it makes hyukjae’s eyes fly open. the beginnings of tell-tale moisture are gathering at the corners of his eyes, and donghae twists with his wrist, increasing the pressure to a point where hyukjae’s breathing harder, one hand lifting half-heartedly to curl around donghae’s forearm.
pretty trails of liquid have begun to paint hyukjae’s cheeks, and donghae has to bend down to follow them with his tongue. hyukjae’s tense, quivering slightly from the effort of holding himself still, and it’s heady, too exhilarating, donghae realises, to be able to have such control.
the idea, the possibility, that he could do anything, everything, with hyukjae, to hyukjae, and that hyukjae might really just let him, roils within him, building momentum until he hears nothing but the bursts of his pulse pounding through him.
beneath his palm, hyukjae starts fidgeting. donghae looks down and hyukjae stares back, wide-eyed, mouth parted, brows creased in that i’m-still-not-really-sure-what’s-going-on-even-though-it’s-already-happened-to-me expression that is so uniquely hyukjae’s.
slowly, donghae guides hyukjae’s head forward, while with his free hand, donghae starts unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. as hyukjae takes over and pulls down the zipper, donghae strokes hyukjae’s skin, and imagines how much more beautiful it would be, when it’s painted with donghae’s come.
end
a/n to catskilt: when i said i had only one freeze frame in my mind, i really only did have one freeze frame in my mind lolz.
written: 310310
summary: donghae can't be held responsible for what ensues when hyukjae's in short shorts and 3-inch heels. wc: 487.
warnings: fake!PWP, ie. badly written almost-pron.
notes: so I just got news that I will be studying at NYU this fall, so to celebrate my entry into this hallowed institution, this is what I write. This pic and this vid messed sufficiently with my brain that I couldn't help myself.
donghae discovers a side of himself he never knew coming to life when hyukjae stumbles and lands in front of him in a tangled sprawl of long long limbs. it shouldn’t be any different from the thousands of other times he’s seen hyukjae in those ridiculously tattered shorts he absolutely refuses to abandon, but other times didn’t have the sight of hyukjae’s feet in white three-inch heels, ankles made inexplicably delicate by the straps encircling them, legs startlingly more slender and shit damnit too sexy and donghae senses this new him unfurling and slipping forward to inhabit his skin as he watches hyukjae scrambling to his knees, head down and face further hidden by the brown fringe of hair.
three steps forward and he’s in hyukjae’s face, literally, forcing hyukjae to lean back slightly, one hand against the floor for balance, neck craned upwards to meet donghae’s eyes. donghae waits, smouldering gaze unwavering, as hyukjae’s expression goes from surprised to confused to embarrassed and finally there’s that little flicker of fear before hyukjae tries to turn his head away.
it’s easy, too easy, to reach out and grasp hyukjae’s cheeks, forcing him to look back up, squeezing just that little bit harder than all those moments in the past when the action was done in jest. donghae savours the give of the soft flesh beneath his fingers, the way it delineates even more the sharpness of hyukjae’s cheekbones. he likes the flush of pink staining hyukjae’s skin as he lets go to run his hand over hyukjae’s hair, while hyukjae’s eyes skitter everywhere, until finally they threaten to flutter closed.
donghae’s grip tightens abruptly, jerking hyukjae’s head back, and the shock of it makes hyukjae’s eyes fly open. the beginnings of tell-tale moisture are gathering at the corners of his eyes, and donghae twists with his wrist, increasing the pressure to a point where hyukjae’s breathing harder, one hand lifting half-heartedly to curl around donghae’s forearm.
pretty trails of liquid have begun to paint hyukjae’s cheeks, and donghae has to bend down to follow them with his tongue. hyukjae’s tense, quivering slightly from the effort of holding himself still, and it’s heady, too exhilarating, donghae realises, to be able to have such control.
the idea, the possibility, that he could do anything, everything, with hyukjae, to hyukjae, and that hyukjae might really just let him, roils within him, building momentum until he hears nothing but the bursts of his pulse pounding through him.
beneath his palm, hyukjae starts fidgeting. donghae looks down and hyukjae stares back, wide-eyed, mouth parted, brows creased in that i’m-still-not-really-sure-what’s-going-on-even-though-it’s-already-happened-to-me expression that is so uniquely hyukjae’s.
slowly, donghae guides hyukjae’s head forward, while with his free hand, donghae starts unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. as hyukjae takes over and pulls down the zipper, donghae strokes hyukjae’s skin, and imagines how much more beautiful it would be, when it’s painted with donghae’s come.
end
a/n to catskilt: when i said i had only one freeze frame in my mind, i really only did have one freeze frame in my mind lolz.