[SJ/SNSD] Last Farewell, R, romance, HaeSica
I warned you guys that I couldn't stop writing for HaeSica - blame Jessica. She stole my heart and demanded I write things for her and Donghae instead of letting me focus on KiHae for fratboy AU. :( So here you go, more in my overall HaeSica verse, which can be read in conjunction with Keepers of This Art and No Way Back Into Love.
Last Farewell
Super Junior/SNSD, Donghae/Jessica, R, 1600 words
There is something about tonight neither of them will forget.
Last Farewell
by meiface
When she came into his arms, he held her gently, as if she were priceless, fragile, and completely irreplaceable. He didn't think he was too far off the mark in his assessment. For him, she would always be something as warm and comforting as home, as sweet and precious as a memory, but so dazzling and exciting and dizzying and breathtaking. As if it were the first time he'd fallen in love.
It wasn't though. And it wouldn't be the last time, either. She was neither his first nor would she be his last, but there was just something about Jessica that Donghae knew he would never be able to forget.
"You're thinking too much again," she said, tapping a finger against his nose. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, her face close, her body closer with her arms wound around his waist.
Donghae grinned at her, boyish, the way she always made him feel: carefree and young, as if he could walk on air, holding her hand. "You know me, always thinking."
In the harsh, pale glare of the room's lighting, she was beautiful. They had ducked away from their respective groups after the show, leaving behind bright lights and loud voices (congratulations, thanks, jokes that had been told time and time again). Tonight was special for them, a memory in the making, and so they had run away hand-in-hand-not quite into the sunset, but into a night full of city lights and promises.
They'd taken a cab to a small, nondescript apartment building. "A friend's," she'd told him, unlocking the door with a borrowed key. They stumbled inside, hearts racing; Donghae felt like they were on the brink of something vast. Something that would change them forever.
Tonight, something would change, as they stood in a foreign room, still in their outfits from the performance, with glitter in his hair and her pink lipstick smudged. He smiled at her now, so happy that his heart ached with its weight, and ran the edge of his thumb along lips.
"So many thoughts and so few useful things to say," she teased, her eyes sparkling.
"I am a man of few words," he told her grandly and she giggled. Donghae wanted desperately to kiss her - so he did, bending his head down and catching her mouth, her laughter, with his. His teeth grazed her lower lip, bit down lightly, and tugged. Her exhale was but a soft breath as she tilted her head to fit better against him. He was gentler than he'd ever been before, gentler than even their first time. (He didn't like thinking about their first time, when he'd been clumsy and inexperienced and had taken her without the grace he wished, so often, achingly, that he could've.)
Her eyes were closed, lashes fanning over her cheeks like a brush of charcoal against her pale skin. Donghae had never been an artist, had never really wanted to be, but Jessica brought out his poetic soul at times, like now, when she looked perfect and vulnerable in his arms, loving him.
He let himself just look at her for a long minute, memorizing her face, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that tonight was a little different. Tonight, he had to commit her every sigh, her every smile, to memory, locked up in a place he'd never forget.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Stop staring," she said, moving her fingers across his chest to hook in the knot of his tie. Black silk, cool around his neck; her finger, warm where it pressed against his throat. He swallowed and felt his Adam's apple graze her knuckle.
Her eyes darkened. "Donghae-yah," she whispered.
He pulled her tight, wordless, kissing her hard and suddenly desperate. She called him "oppa" in public, around everyone else, light and sweet and ringing with a little tease under her respect. When they were alone, when she wanted him to look only at her, she called him Donghae-yah, soft and throaty.
"I love you," he breathed into the space between them. Jessica was pushing frantically at his suit jacket, tugging it over his shoulders and down his arms. "I love you, I love you." He punctuated his words with kisses, helping her efforts with a shrug and a shimmy. His jacket fell onto the ground at his feet, a dark crumple of rich fabric; his tie followed soon after in a slither of silk.
"Still talking too much," she chided softly, her lips hot against his cheek, his jaw, his ear. He shuddered as untucked her shirt and splayed her hands against his back. His heart tripped over itself, double-time, triple-time, and Donghae sighed, a low sound.
No one else would ever affect him quite the way she did.
The knowledge was certain in his mind even he grinned into her hair. "Jessica," he said happily, because oh he loved her. Her name was like a touch itself, as she stilled momentarily to breathe against him, her chest expanding into his, her fingers curling one by one in the small of his back.
She pulled her head back to smile up at her him; her eyes glittered like the stars he'd never want to count, not when he could hold her and love her instead. Her smile lit a warm fire in his stomach, a reminder that she was nothing like the Ice Princess so many saw her as. Beneath her skin burned desires, passions, that only he was privy to witness.
"Donghae-yah," she said again, a husky sound. A possessive curl tugged at her lips, glistening in the unflattering light. "My Donghae."
His fingers fumbled at her zipper and dragged it down. Her strapless white dress slid off her in a floating, cloudlike shimmer and his breath caught. He had seen her before, of course. He had seen her naked, trembling, panting his name. But seeing her in nothing but a strapless pale pink bra and tiny white panties - Donghae's mouth was suddenly dry.
He breathed hard, swallowed.
"You're beautiful," he told her and he could hear the hoarseness of his own voice.
She didn't reply, merely stepped closer, long long legs and a hand reaching up to pull at his collar. Her lips met the dip of his throat damply, a sweet, slick kiss in the hollow of his collarbone as her fingers made quick work of his buttons and pulled off his shirt impatiently.
Donghae licked his lips as Jessica's hands skated up his bare chest, warm palms and intent look in her eyes. He could feel himself harden, almost painfully, wanting her so much. Tonight, more than any other night, he would kiss her and love her until every shiver and moan was seared into her memory and his. Until he knew that she would never forget him either.
It was an unfamiliar room, a stranger's bed, but it didn't matter. They didn't need a perfect night for a perfect memory. It was the details that would cling to them later, the rough scratch of the yellow sheets, the harsh lighting on their exposed skin, dimming gold to ash and shadows. Later, Donghae would remember the salt of her tears, of her sweat, and the soft little cries she panted into his ears. He would remember how she dug her fingernails into his skin, perfectly manicured and painted pearly pink, leaving little crescent-shaped marks in his back and hips that would fade with morning.
He kissed her, touched her, stroked her until she whimpered, a melody of sighs and moans he never wanted to imagine anyone else hearing. It was imperfect, the way their knees knocked into each other, the way her head slid off the pillow, her hair in tangled disarray over her face as she bit her lip, bucking her hips. His arms strained, he nearly slipped off the bed, and none of it mattered in the end when he slid into her, slowly, then faster, until his hips were snapping of their own accord and she was arching up into him.
They were perfect, imperfect, a night and a memory burned into the back of their eyelids in a white flash.
"Donghae," she cried when she came, and tears stained her cheeks when she kissed him afterwards, stroking him through his aftershocks.
"Donghae," she whispered, rolling into his side, curling into his arms. "Oppa."
His chest still heaving, he kissed the top of her head and langour spread through him like slow honey. His heart felt like it would overflow with emotion: happiness, gratitude, awe...indescribable, ineffable feelings he couldn't put names to.
His tongue in her mouth was warm and lazy, familiar as a hello beautiful or a goodbye oppa. Donghae didn't think about whose sheets he was tugging up over them or how long they had before they had to get dressed and find their way back. He wanted only this for a moment, a snapshot of sleepy, sated satisfaction to remember forever.
Jessica's lips lingered on his. He pushed his fingers through her sweat-sticky hair, brushing it away from her face, smiling a little. His eyes drifted closed - just for a little bit. Just for now.
She broke up with him two days later, as he'd known she would. They had both known it was heading down this path, inevitable and unforgivable. Their relationship hadn't been made to last, at least not now, not now. (Maybe, maybe sometime in the future they could try again.)
When Donghae kissed her for the last time, achingly bittersweet, he remembered their last night. Just like he was meant to.
--
Started: 2009.06.27
Finished: 2009.06.28
Notes: I've written the angsty first time and the angsty post-break up. This is the not-so-angsty last time. Maybe I will consider a future post-SJ/SNSD get-together.
Last Farewell
Super Junior/SNSD, Donghae/Jessica, R, 1600 words
There is something about tonight neither of them will forget.
Last Farewell
by meiface
When she came into his arms, he held her gently, as if she were priceless, fragile, and completely irreplaceable. He didn't think he was too far off the mark in his assessment. For him, she would always be something as warm and comforting as home, as sweet and precious as a memory, but so dazzling and exciting and dizzying and breathtaking. As if it were the first time he'd fallen in love.
It wasn't though. And it wouldn't be the last time, either. She was neither his first nor would she be his last, but there was just something about Jessica that Donghae knew he would never be able to forget.
"You're thinking too much again," she said, tapping a finger against his nose. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, her face close, her body closer with her arms wound around his waist.
Donghae grinned at her, boyish, the way she always made him feel: carefree and young, as if he could walk on air, holding her hand. "You know me, always thinking."
In the harsh, pale glare of the room's lighting, she was beautiful. They had ducked away from their respective groups after the show, leaving behind bright lights and loud voices (congratulations, thanks, jokes that had been told time and time again). Tonight was special for them, a memory in the making, and so they had run away hand-in-hand-not quite into the sunset, but into a night full of city lights and promises.
They'd taken a cab to a small, nondescript apartment building. "A friend's," she'd told him, unlocking the door with a borrowed key. They stumbled inside, hearts racing; Donghae felt like they were on the brink of something vast. Something that would change them forever.
Tonight, something would change, as they stood in a foreign room, still in their outfits from the performance, with glitter in his hair and her pink lipstick smudged. He smiled at her now, so happy that his heart ached with its weight, and ran the edge of his thumb along lips.
"So many thoughts and so few useful things to say," she teased, her eyes sparkling.
"I am a man of few words," he told her grandly and she giggled. Donghae wanted desperately to kiss her - so he did, bending his head down and catching her mouth, her laughter, with his. His teeth grazed her lower lip, bit down lightly, and tugged. Her exhale was but a soft breath as she tilted her head to fit better against him. He was gentler than he'd ever been before, gentler than even their first time. (He didn't like thinking about their first time, when he'd been clumsy and inexperienced and had taken her without the grace he wished, so often, achingly, that he could've.)
Her eyes were closed, lashes fanning over her cheeks like a brush of charcoal against her pale skin. Donghae had never been an artist, had never really wanted to be, but Jessica brought out his poetic soul at times, like now, when she looked perfect and vulnerable in his arms, loving him.
He let himself just look at her for a long minute, memorizing her face, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that tonight was a little different. Tonight, he had to commit her every sigh, her every smile, to memory, locked up in a place he'd never forget.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Stop staring," she said, moving her fingers across his chest to hook in the knot of his tie. Black silk, cool around his neck; her finger, warm where it pressed against his throat. He swallowed and felt his Adam's apple graze her knuckle.
Her eyes darkened. "Donghae-yah," she whispered.
He pulled her tight, wordless, kissing her hard and suddenly desperate. She called him "oppa" in public, around everyone else, light and sweet and ringing with a little tease under her respect. When they were alone, when she wanted him to look only at her, she called him Donghae-yah, soft and throaty.
"I love you," he breathed into the space between them. Jessica was pushing frantically at his suit jacket, tugging it over his shoulders and down his arms. "I love you, I love you." He punctuated his words with kisses, helping her efforts with a shrug and a shimmy. His jacket fell onto the ground at his feet, a dark crumple of rich fabric; his tie followed soon after in a slither of silk.
"Still talking too much," she chided softly, her lips hot against his cheek, his jaw, his ear. He shuddered as untucked her shirt and splayed her hands against his back. His heart tripped over itself, double-time, triple-time, and Donghae sighed, a low sound.
No one else would ever affect him quite the way she did.
The knowledge was certain in his mind even he grinned into her hair. "Jessica," he said happily, because oh he loved her. Her name was like a touch itself, as she stilled momentarily to breathe against him, her chest expanding into his, her fingers curling one by one in the small of his back.
She pulled her head back to smile up at her him; her eyes glittered like the stars he'd never want to count, not when he could hold her and love her instead. Her smile lit a warm fire in his stomach, a reminder that she was nothing like the Ice Princess so many saw her as. Beneath her skin burned desires, passions, that only he was privy to witness.
"Donghae-yah," she said again, a husky sound. A possessive curl tugged at her lips, glistening in the unflattering light. "My Donghae."
His fingers fumbled at her zipper and dragged it down. Her strapless white dress slid off her in a floating, cloudlike shimmer and his breath caught. He had seen her before, of course. He had seen her naked, trembling, panting his name. But seeing her in nothing but a strapless pale pink bra and tiny white panties - Donghae's mouth was suddenly dry.
He breathed hard, swallowed.
"You're beautiful," he told her and he could hear the hoarseness of his own voice.
She didn't reply, merely stepped closer, long long legs and a hand reaching up to pull at his collar. Her lips met the dip of his throat damply, a sweet, slick kiss in the hollow of his collarbone as her fingers made quick work of his buttons and pulled off his shirt impatiently.
Donghae licked his lips as Jessica's hands skated up his bare chest, warm palms and intent look in her eyes. He could feel himself harden, almost painfully, wanting her so much. Tonight, more than any other night, he would kiss her and love her until every shiver and moan was seared into her memory and his. Until he knew that she would never forget him either.
It was an unfamiliar room, a stranger's bed, but it didn't matter. They didn't need a perfect night for a perfect memory. It was the details that would cling to them later, the rough scratch of the yellow sheets, the harsh lighting on their exposed skin, dimming gold to ash and shadows. Later, Donghae would remember the salt of her tears, of her sweat, and the soft little cries she panted into his ears. He would remember how she dug her fingernails into his skin, perfectly manicured and painted pearly pink, leaving little crescent-shaped marks in his back and hips that would fade with morning.
He kissed her, touched her, stroked her until she whimpered, a melody of sighs and moans he never wanted to imagine anyone else hearing. It was imperfect, the way their knees knocked into each other, the way her head slid off the pillow, her hair in tangled disarray over her face as she bit her lip, bucking her hips. His arms strained, he nearly slipped off the bed, and none of it mattered in the end when he slid into her, slowly, then faster, until his hips were snapping of their own accord and she was arching up into him.
They were perfect, imperfect, a night and a memory burned into the back of their eyelids in a white flash.
"Donghae," she cried when she came, and tears stained her cheeks when she kissed him afterwards, stroking him through his aftershocks.
"Donghae," she whispered, rolling into his side, curling into his arms. "Oppa."
His chest still heaving, he kissed the top of her head and langour spread through him like slow honey. His heart felt like it would overflow with emotion: happiness, gratitude, awe...indescribable, ineffable feelings he couldn't put names to.
His tongue in her mouth was warm and lazy, familiar as a hello beautiful or a goodbye oppa. Donghae didn't think about whose sheets he was tugging up over them or how long they had before they had to get dressed and find their way back. He wanted only this for a moment, a snapshot of sleepy, sated satisfaction to remember forever.
Jessica's lips lingered on his. He pushed his fingers through her sweat-sticky hair, brushing it away from her face, smiling a little. His eyes drifted closed - just for a little bit. Just for now.
She broke up with him two days later, as he'd known she would. They had both known it was heading down this path, inevitable and unforgivable. Their relationship hadn't been made to last, at least not now, not now. (Maybe, maybe sometime in the future they could try again.)
When Donghae kissed her for the last time, achingly bittersweet, he remembered their last night. Just like he was meant to.
--
Started: 2009.06.27
Finished: 2009.06.28
Notes: I've written the angsty first time and the angsty post-break up. This is the not-so-angsty last time. Maybe I will consider a future post-SJ/SNSD get-together.