[Pin] Gimme a Break, Gimme a Break, Lemme Have a Bite of that Cheeseburger!
Title: Gimme a Break, Gimme a Break, Lemme Have a Bite of that Cheeseburger!
Pairing: Pin.
Rating: R.
Notes: This little bit of silliness was written for tokyostory, for je_holiday, originally posted here.
Summary: This fic is about economics, essays, failing at writing essays about economics, annoying best friends, really bad dancing, puppet shows, a bit of fumbly sex, and most importantly, cheeseburgers.
“You know,” Yamapi begins with a sigh, putting down his pen on the table. “You could go watch some T.V. or something.”
From across the room, perched on the windowsill, a shrug of the shoulder is all Jin offers as response. He goes back to juggling the paperweight he’s been throwing back and forth for the past forty five minutes. Yamapi’s eyes follow the hypnotizing movement of the paperweight moving from one hand to another, the blur of colors a dizzying swirl of bright red, yellow, and green, almost distracting him from his objective. He snaps out of it, giving Jin a fleeting glance and goes back to his writing.
A low hum of melody tickles at his eardrums, and Yamapi shakes his head to rid himself of it. His mind is clear, completely in focus, and all his thoughts consist of how to graphically represent equilibrium price level and output in the economy. His mind is focused, concentrated on the ultimate point of consciousness where he is aware only of the task at hand. Words are simply flowing from his thoughts, his pen the bridge between the mind and the paper, and there are no interruptions, no disturbances whatsoever. He is definitely not thinking about the moving stages in Tokyo Dome, absolutely not about grilled beef, and most certainly, indubitably, not thinking about throttling his best friend who has just suddenly decided to test out his ventriloquism skills and is staging some sort of a play with a toothpick and a double-A battery.
“No!” Jin shrieks in a high-pitched voice, almost piercing Yamapi’s eardrums. “You shouldn’t eat that cheeseburger!” He then shakes the toothpick in what Yamapi assumes to be a scolding gesture. Jin sighs, moving the battery a few inches away from the toothpick. “But Kame, I haven’t had one in two whole weeks,” he says dejectedly in a lower voice. “You’ll get fat. You’re on a diet!” The toothpick says again, a warning in his tone.
Yamapi clears his throat and Jin looks up from his handiwork to smile at him.
“Hey! You’re done?” Jin asks cheerfully, setting down his makeshift Kame and Jin dolls. “Can we go for-”
“Not done yet,” Yamapi cuts him off, sounding somewhat apologetic. “Why don’t you go grab something from the fridge?” he adds, hoping for assent. Yamapi really needs to get his paper done. After all, this is worth a hefty portion of his grade, and Jin isn’t helping at all. Jin is a master at distractions, and getting rid of him for a while would probably speed up his writing process…by a lot.
“That’s okay.” Jin flashes him a blinding smile, and Yamapi experiences a brief moment of disorientation. “I can wait.”
Yamapi feels a little guilty for wanting to get rid of Jin since his friend is nice enough to wait for him to finish his work. Okay! He decides. I will finish this as soon as possible and then we can go out to eat. Cheeseburger sounds pretty good right now.
He picks up his pen for the umpteenth time and writes. Phrases are forming at the speed of light, sentences about shifts versus movement along the aggregate demand and aggregate supply curves, about how the economy adjusts to supply and demand shocks in the short and long run, and about how the self-correcting mechanism brings the economy to an equilibrium resembling the predictions of the classical model. And no, that whining sound coming from his left is not Jin belting out Daite Señorita at least two octaves higher than it should be, and the incessant clacking isn't the sound of Jin's bracelets hitting against each other as he brings his hands in a grabbing motion to his chest, doing the dance...
Yamapi stops writing, again, and looks down at his paper. Horrified, he realizes that there is nothing about equilibrium, nothing at all about economics; he’s only managed to scribble down rubbish about tender and juicy succulent two-inch beef patties, melted cheese, and slices of fresh tomatoes upon perfectly round buns. Next to that is the commentary, ‘An explosion of flavor and warmth in your mouth with every bite!’ and… is that “anata no sono kuchibiru ga… jirettai no yo” he sees in the margins?
Yamapi growls, balling up the piece of paper in his hand, fingers clenched so tightly that his nails dig into the flesh of his palm. And then he throws it at Jin’s head, making no attempt to be discrete or stealthy as Jin currently has his eyes closed, his body swaying in his ridiculous imitation of the dance.
The wad of paper flies by Jin’s ear, missing its target by a distance of mere millimeters; Jin doesn’t even notice. So Yamapi balls up another sheet and throws that one, which satisfactorily connects with Jin’s nose, making him stop in mid-hip-swivel.
Jin freezes and blinks rapidly at Yamapi, as if Yamapi had just thrown an anvil at his head, not a balled up piece of paper. "What was that for?" He finally manages to force out, his body still in daite daite daite señorita mode.
“Do you mind?” Yamapi grounds out.
“Oh!” Jin exclaims. “Not at all! I can entertain myself.” And then he beams another disarming smile and promptly resumes his singing.
“Jin, seriously,” Yamapi snaps, past the point of annoyance now, “I’m trying to work here.”
“So go ahead, work! And ignore your best friend who cancelled all his plans to come visit you and spend some quality time with you on his only off day in two weeks…ah, I’m such a considerate friend…” Jin sighs dramatically as if he has just made some huge sacrifice on his part. “Oh well, I guess I will just take a seat here, all alone by myself with nothing to do, and let you finish your essay, since it is that important…”
“I’m glad you understand the situation then!” Yamapi retorts, going back to his paper, determined to make something of it this time.
Ten minutes or twenty pass without fuss. Yamapi steals a glance at Jin, who has plopped himself down on the couch and is opening and closing his legs in boredom, stretching them in front of him, kicking at air, and then planting them back on the ground. Yamapi vows to buy Jin as many cheeseburgers as he wants after he finishes his paper. Just when he’s thanking the higher powers for the peace and quiet, the faint rhythmic sound of feet tapping out the chorus of Seishun Amigo catches his ears.
In a single fluid motion, Yamapi pushes himself off the floor and crosses the short distance between the low table he was writing on and the couch. He stands in front of Jin, their knees almost touching, and waits expectantly for his friend to look up at him.
“Hi,” Jin says, eyes big and brown, innocent like the ones of a child that knows no difference between right and wrong.
And then Yamapi tackles him.
He lands heavily on top of Jin and they tumble back, Jin’s head hitting the armrest of the sofa.
“Ow, Pi! What the hell?!” Jin shrieks, trying to free his arms from under Yamapi’s weight. “Get off of meeeeeeeeeek!” His voice climbs several more notches as Yamapi digs his fingers into Jin’s sides. “Stop stop stopstopstopstop!”
“You really are impossible,” Yamapi manages between gales of laughter as he unleashes a merciless tickle assault on Jin’s collarbones. Jin squirms and writhes under him, kicking his legs up, trying to throw Yamapi off. “You totally had it coming!”
In between cursing and laughing, Jin twists a leg around Yamapi's, and with a sudden burst of energy, propels himself upwards, turns over, and suddenly they are falling, rolling right off the edge of the couch, and landing on the carpet in a heap of flailing arms and legs.
"Fuck, Jin, ow, your elbow-”
However, Jin doesn't seem to be listening, doesn't even seem to register the fact that his knee has struck the floor with no small amount of force. In the confusion and haze of discomfort, Yamapi doesn't even notice that Jin is leaning closer and closer to him, invading that precious bubble of personal space, and his lips are aiming for the side of his neck, his flushed cheek. Yamapi tenses up, heart pounding an erratic tattoo in his chest as Jin takes a deep breath and...
...blows warm air into his ear.
Yamapi can swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment before it resumes activity.
Smirking, Jin detangles himself from his best friend's now completely slack limbs and stands up, his eyes glowing with the flush of satisfaction that comes with small victories. "I win," he says, his voice slightly uneven and hoarse from laughing.
Yamapi’s face takes on five different shades of red and he feels slightly cheated somehow. When the hell did this become a competition? He wills his brain to regain some control over his motility skills, and frantically flings his arm out to catch Jin’s ankle. But Jin sees it coming and neatly sidesteps Yamapi’s grabbing hand, hopping out of reach effortlessly.
“I said,” Jin says, lips forming another infuriating grin, “I win.” He plants a foot lightly on Yamapi’s chest, flat on the bone that parts his ribs. From way down on the floor, Yamapi can see the glint of challenge in Jin’s eyes, and Yamapi’s face contorts in a grimace.
“Augh, fine,” Yamapi groans in defeat. “Just get the hell off me.”
Jin pokes him on the chest with his big toe, smirk still in place, ignoring Yamapi’s askance look. Then he slides his foot down, lower down the middle of Yamapi’s chest to his stomach, where Yamapi’s stomach muscles instantly give under his prodding foot. Yamapi lies still, except for that shiver that seems to wrack his entire body when Jin lifts the heel of his foot, and with his toe, traces the circle of his bellybutton over the fabric of his shirt. Yamapi gasps, his breath short and sharp. Jin drags his foot lower, trailing the waistline of Yamapi’s jeans, and settles on the hipbone, the arch of Jin’s foot fitting there perfectly.
"Oh, Pi, you seem to be having difficult breathing,” Jin says in a singsong voice. “Aren't you writing about how bad that is for you, something about how not enough oxygen going to the brain resulting in neural damage?” He asks, sliding his foot down a little lower to punctuate his question, down Yamapi’s thigh, dangerously close to his groin. His tone is light but has that highly irritating quality of self-assured superiority as he condescendingly looks down from his vantage point.
Yamapi takes in a deep, shuddering breath, as if that is going to stop him from reacting to something so trivial as Jin’s foot grazing the inside of his thigh. "M-my paper is on economics, you jerkface, not biology." He feels too hot, burning up, and his pants feel too tight.
Jin laughs, head thrown back. “God, Pi, I wish you could see your face right now,” he says, removing his foot from Yamapi’s leg. Yamapi only grumbles in response. “What’s that?” Jin asks, laughter still coloring his voice as he bends forward to catch Yamapi’s words.
Yamapi knows a chance when he sees one. Without wasting even a second, he reaches forward and grabs the front of Jin’s shirt, pulling him down. As Jin isn’t prepared for this attack and is already off-balance from bending over his “fallen foe,” he only manages to save himself from slamming into the floor (or crushing Yamapi) by throwing out his arms so they are braced next to his assailant’s head.
“Dammit Pi! That could’ve really hurt!”
“Too bad.” Yamapi mutters. “You should have thought of that before you decided to maul me.” He tugs Jin closer, grabbing his face in a clumsy kiss, crushing their lips together, tongues licking at each other in fierce strokes.
“Well, you enjoyed it,” Jin offers against Yamapi’s lips as Yamapi’s mouth slides over his skin, placing butterfly kisses on his lips, under his chin, along the line of his jaw and neck, biting and sucking. “Now who’s mauling who?”
“And you are enjoying it,” Yamapi states, not a question, rather sure of the answer as his hand goes between them to sweep along the waistline of Jin’s boxers. His fingers brush the soft trail of hair under Jin’s navel, inciting a growl from somewhere in the back of Jin’s throat, the sound primal, and tinged with want. Jin’s long fingers tangle themselves in Yamapi’s hair and he can hear how uneven Jin’s breathing is, hot, heavy, and irregular against his ear.
Yamapi works his fingers on the buttons of Jin’s jeans, but they fumble, clumsy and shaky as Jin moves his hands from Yamapi’s hair to his shirt, pressing them underneath the fabric to brush over his abdomen, running up his sides, and his mouth is moving down Yamapi's throat, tongue tracing the frantic pulse at the base of it before moving up to forge a trail of blazing kisses on Yamapi's jawline.
“Hurry it up,” Jin urges breathlessly in Yamapi’s ear.
“Dammit, this-” Yamapi grumbles in frustration but Jin swallows his sentence with a searing kiss, moaning in his mouth, sucking at his lower lip, before sitting up. Jin’s hand goes to his own zipper, undoing it and the button swiftly. And then Yamapi moves with a slow roll of his body, hips thrusting upward against Jin’s and feels, rather than hears, Jin’s sharp intake of air and the shudder that accompanies it.
Then he does it again.
“God, Pi,” Jin manages, between moans, responding in earnest, grinding his hips against Yamapi’s, craving the friction through their clothes. Jin slumps forward, back bowing, forearms coming to rest on the floor beside Yamapi’s torso, their foreheads touching. He presses their lips together, feather light.
"Who is winning now?" Yamapi whispers, sliding a hand inside Jin’s pants. But Jin doesn't seem to be in the proper mindset to formulate a reply, not when Yamapi’s hand is pressed against him like that, not when all he really wants is Yamapi to move, just move move move.
“Fuck, Pi. What are you waiting for?” Jin bites out, bucking his hips against Yamapi’s.
Yamapi is glad to oblige, his hips snap up and roll against Jin’s, inconsistent thrusts, hard and fast, setting a pace that permeates their clothes and forces Jin to arch his back, his body curving, taut as a bow.
Jin groans, almost at the brink of something as he grabs Yamapi by his shoulders, his fingers digging into flesh and probably bruising his skin with the force they are exerting. Jin takes Yamapi’s earlobe into his mouth, tracing the shell of it with his tongue and causing Yamapi’s breath to hitch in his chest.
Jin’s movements are completely erratic, and Yamapi is so certain of this, so certain of his complete victory over Jin that he doesn’t even realize that control is being wrested away from him when Jin suddenly unbuttons Yamapi’s jeans, pulls him along just like that. And then Jin’s hand is around him, his grasp firm, warm and frantic, and Jin is moving his fingers in that agonizing way, alternating between slow and fast strokes, making Yamapi’s nerves spasm, as if somebody has just set them ablaze.
“Jin, oh God, Jin -”
“Just move, dammit, keep moving.”
And Yamapi moans, a low whining sound from his throat as they move against each other, actions devoid of grace and eloquence. There is no poise in this, nothing smooth or delicate, but it isn’t as if anything exists beyond that cocoon of heat and pleasure, of frenzied breathing and disorientated movement. Nothing beyond them.
Jin is close, so achingly close, and Yamapi can feel it as well. His eyes are closed tightly, but that doesn’t block the spots that are blooming in his vision, and he is almost there, almost there there there there -
There is a roar of something thunderous in his ear as he comes and over that, the hoarse cry of his name as Jin collapses on top of him seconds later. And they lie there, too spent to even consider getting up.
Yamapi struggles to catch his own breath, but that seems relatively impossible right then; he feels too giddy, too heady. Instead, he just lazily buries his nose in the crook of Jin's neck, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. He laughs softly.
"What," Jin says, lacking the energy to even change that into a proper question. When Yamapi doesn't answer right away, Jin jabs a finger into Yamapi's side. "Whaaaaaat?" he asks, a whine creeping into his voice.
"Umm, cheeseburger?" Yamapi offers with a tilt of his head and a crooked smile.
Jin's stomach saves him from replying by dutifully grumbling its consent. "But wait, what about your essay?"
Oh yeah. "Umm...I suppose I can put it off until we get some food. Not like I can think straight now anyway. I'm starving."
"Oh, all right then." Slowly, Jin drags himself off of Yamapi and stands up. "Well, if anything, you can write about how the demand for cheeseburgers has risen in the past five years." He extends a hand to help Yamapi off the floor. "But the prices haven't changed that much, which just proves Publilius Syrus' quote, which says, ‘Everything is worth what its purchaser will pay for it.'"
Yamapi, who is just about to let Jin haul him to his feet, freezes in mid-motion and stares at his best friend. "...What?"
"Oh, nothing. Cheeseburger?"
Pairing: Pin.
Rating: R.
Notes: This little bit of silliness was written for tokyostory, for je_holiday, originally posted here.
Summary: This fic is about economics, essays, failing at writing essays about economics, annoying best friends, really bad dancing, puppet shows, a bit of fumbly sex, and most importantly, cheeseburgers.
“You know,” Yamapi begins with a sigh, putting down his pen on the table. “You could go watch some T.V. or something.”
From across the room, perched on the windowsill, a shrug of the shoulder is all Jin offers as response. He goes back to juggling the paperweight he’s been throwing back and forth for the past forty five minutes. Yamapi’s eyes follow the hypnotizing movement of the paperweight moving from one hand to another, the blur of colors a dizzying swirl of bright red, yellow, and green, almost distracting him from his objective. He snaps out of it, giving Jin a fleeting glance and goes back to his writing.
A low hum of melody tickles at his eardrums, and Yamapi shakes his head to rid himself of it. His mind is clear, completely in focus, and all his thoughts consist of how to graphically represent equilibrium price level and output in the economy. His mind is focused, concentrated on the ultimate point of consciousness where he is aware only of the task at hand. Words are simply flowing from his thoughts, his pen the bridge between the mind and the paper, and there are no interruptions, no disturbances whatsoever. He is definitely not thinking about the moving stages in Tokyo Dome, absolutely not about grilled beef, and most certainly, indubitably, not thinking about throttling his best friend who has just suddenly decided to test out his ventriloquism skills and is staging some sort of a play with a toothpick and a double-A battery.
“No!” Jin shrieks in a high-pitched voice, almost piercing Yamapi’s eardrums. “You shouldn’t eat that cheeseburger!” He then shakes the toothpick in what Yamapi assumes to be a scolding gesture. Jin sighs, moving the battery a few inches away from the toothpick. “But Kame, I haven’t had one in two whole weeks,” he says dejectedly in a lower voice. “You’ll get fat. You’re on a diet!” The toothpick says again, a warning in his tone.
Yamapi clears his throat and Jin looks up from his handiwork to smile at him.
“Hey! You’re done?” Jin asks cheerfully, setting down his makeshift Kame and Jin dolls. “Can we go for-”
“Not done yet,” Yamapi cuts him off, sounding somewhat apologetic. “Why don’t you go grab something from the fridge?” he adds, hoping for assent. Yamapi really needs to get his paper done. After all, this is worth a hefty portion of his grade, and Jin isn’t helping at all. Jin is a master at distractions, and getting rid of him for a while would probably speed up his writing process…by a lot.
“That’s okay.” Jin flashes him a blinding smile, and Yamapi experiences a brief moment of disorientation. “I can wait.”
Yamapi feels a little guilty for wanting to get rid of Jin since his friend is nice enough to wait for him to finish his work. Okay! He decides. I will finish this as soon as possible and then we can go out to eat. Cheeseburger sounds pretty good right now.
He picks up his pen for the umpteenth time and writes. Phrases are forming at the speed of light, sentences about shifts versus movement along the aggregate demand and aggregate supply curves, about how the economy adjusts to supply and demand shocks in the short and long run, and about how the self-correcting mechanism brings the economy to an equilibrium resembling the predictions of the classical model. And no, that whining sound coming from his left is not Jin belting out Daite Señorita at least two octaves higher than it should be, and the incessant clacking isn't the sound of Jin's bracelets hitting against each other as he brings his hands in a grabbing motion to his chest, doing the dance...
Yamapi stops writing, again, and looks down at his paper. Horrified, he realizes that there is nothing about equilibrium, nothing at all about economics; he’s only managed to scribble down rubbish about tender and juicy succulent two-inch beef patties, melted cheese, and slices of fresh tomatoes upon perfectly round buns. Next to that is the commentary, ‘An explosion of flavor and warmth in your mouth with every bite!’ and… is that “anata no sono kuchibiru ga… jirettai no yo” he sees in the margins?
Yamapi growls, balling up the piece of paper in his hand, fingers clenched so tightly that his nails dig into the flesh of his palm. And then he throws it at Jin’s head, making no attempt to be discrete or stealthy as Jin currently has his eyes closed, his body swaying in his ridiculous imitation of the dance.
The wad of paper flies by Jin’s ear, missing its target by a distance of mere millimeters; Jin doesn’t even notice. So Yamapi balls up another sheet and throws that one, which satisfactorily connects with Jin’s nose, making him stop in mid-hip-swivel.
Jin freezes and blinks rapidly at Yamapi, as if Yamapi had just thrown an anvil at his head, not a balled up piece of paper. "What was that for?" He finally manages to force out, his body still in daite daite daite señorita mode.
“Do you mind?” Yamapi grounds out.
“Oh!” Jin exclaims. “Not at all! I can entertain myself.” And then he beams another disarming smile and promptly resumes his singing.
“Jin, seriously,” Yamapi snaps, past the point of annoyance now, “I’m trying to work here.”
“So go ahead, work! And ignore your best friend who cancelled all his plans to come visit you and spend some quality time with you on his only off day in two weeks…ah, I’m such a considerate friend…” Jin sighs dramatically as if he has just made some huge sacrifice on his part. “Oh well, I guess I will just take a seat here, all alone by myself with nothing to do, and let you finish your essay, since it is that important…”
“I’m glad you understand the situation then!” Yamapi retorts, going back to his paper, determined to make something of it this time.
Ten minutes or twenty pass without fuss. Yamapi steals a glance at Jin, who has plopped himself down on the couch and is opening and closing his legs in boredom, stretching them in front of him, kicking at air, and then planting them back on the ground. Yamapi vows to buy Jin as many cheeseburgers as he wants after he finishes his paper. Just when he’s thanking the higher powers for the peace and quiet, the faint rhythmic sound of feet tapping out the chorus of Seishun Amigo catches his ears.
In a single fluid motion, Yamapi pushes himself off the floor and crosses the short distance between the low table he was writing on and the couch. He stands in front of Jin, their knees almost touching, and waits expectantly for his friend to look up at him.
“Hi,” Jin says, eyes big and brown, innocent like the ones of a child that knows no difference between right and wrong.
And then Yamapi tackles him.
He lands heavily on top of Jin and they tumble back, Jin’s head hitting the armrest of the sofa.
“Ow, Pi! What the hell?!” Jin shrieks, trying to free his arms from under Yamapi’s weight. “Get off of meeeeeeeeeek!” His voice climbs several more notches as Yamapi digs his fingers into Jin’s sides. “Stop stop stopstopstopstop!”
“You really are impossible,” Yamapi manages between gales of laughter as he unleashes a merciless tickle assault on Jin’s collarbones. Jin squirms and writhes under him, kicking his legs up, trying to throw Yamapi off. “You totally had it coming!”
In between cursing and laughing, Jin twists a leg around Yamapi's, and with a sudden burst of energy, propels himself upwards, turns over, and suddenly they are falling, rolling right off the edge of the couch, and landing on the carpet in a heap of flailing arms and legs.
"Fuck, Jin, ow, your elbow-”
However, Jin doesn't seem to be listening, doesn't even seem to register the fact that his knee has struck the floor with no small amount of force. In the confusion and haze of discomfort, Yamapi doesn't even notice that Jin is leaning closer and closer to him, invading that precious bubble of personal space, and his lips are aiming for the side of his neck, his flushed cheek. Yamapi tenses up, heart pounding an erratic tattoo in his chest as Jin takes a deep breath and...
...blows warm air into his ear.
Yamapi can swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment before it resumes activity.
Smirking, Jin detangles himself from his best friend's now completely slack limbs and stands up, his eyes glowing with the flush of satisfaction that comes with small victories. "I win," he says, his voice slightly uneven and hoarse from laughing.
Yamapi’s face takes on five different shades of red and he feels slightly cheated somehow. When the hell did this become a competition? He wills his brain to regain some control over his motility skills, and frantically flings his arm out to catch Jin’s ankle. But Jin sees it coming and neatly sidesteps Yamapi’s grabbing hand, hopping out of reach effortlessly.
“I said,” Jin says, lips forming another infuriating grin, “I win.” He plants a foot lightly on Yamapi’s chest, flat on the bone that parts his ribs. From way down on the floor, Yamapi can see the glint of challenge in Jin’s eyes, and Yamapi’s face contorts in a grimace.
“Augh, fine,” Yamapi groans in defeat. “Just get the hell off me.”
Jin pokes him on the chest with his big toe, smirk still in place, ignoring Yamapi’s askance look. Then he slides his foot down, lower down the middle of Yamapi’s chest to his stomach, where Yamapi’s stomach muscles instantly give under his prodding foot. Yamapi lies still, except for that shiver that seems to wrack his entire body when Jin lifts the heel of his foot, and with his toe, traces the circle of his bellybutton over the fabric of his shirt. Yamapi gasps, his breath short and sharp. Jin drags his foot lower, trailing the waistline of Yamapi’s jeans, and settles on the hipbone, the arch of Jin’s foot fitting there perfectly.
"Oh, Pi, you seem to be having difficult breathing,” Jin says in a singsong voice. “Aren't you writing about how bad that is for you, something about how not enough oxygen going to the brain resulting in neural damage?” He asks, sliding his foot down a little lower to punctuate his question, down Yamapi’s thigh, dangerously close to his groin. His tone is light but has that highly irritating quality of self-assured superiority as he condescendingly looks down from his vantage point.
Yamapi takes in a deep, shuddering breath, as if that is going to stop him from reacting to something so trivial as Jin’s foot grazing the inside of his thigh. "M-my paper is on economics, you jerkface, not biology." He feels too hot, burning up, and his pants feel too tight.
Jin laughs, head thrown back. “God, Pi, I wish you could see your face right now,” he says, removing his foot from Yamapi’s leg. Yamapi only grumbles in response. “What’s that?” Jin asks, laughter still coloring his voice as he bends forward to catch Yamapi’s words.
Yamapi knows a chance when he sees one. Without wasting even a second, he reaches forward and grabs the front of Jin’s shirt, pulling him down. As Jin isn’t prepared for this attack and is already off-balance from bending over his “fallen foe,” he only manages to save himself from slamming into the floor (or crushing Yamapi) by throwing out his arms so they are braced next to his assailant’s head.
“Dammit Pi! That could’ve really hurt!”
“Too bad.” Yamapi mutters. “You should have thought of that before you decided to maul me.” He tugs Jin closer, grabbing his face in a clumsy kiss, crushing their lips together, tongues licking at each other in fierce strokes.
“Well, you enjoyed it,” Jin offers against Yamapi’s lips as Yamapi’s mouth slides over his skin, placing butterfly kisses on his lips, under his chin, along the line of his jaw and neck, biting and sucking. “Now who’s mauling who?”
“And you are enjoying it,” Yamapi states, not a question, rather sure of the answer as his hand goes between them to sweep along the waistline of Jin’s boxers. His fingers brush the soft trail of hair under Jin’s navel, inciting a growl from somewhere in the back of Jin’s throat, the sound primal, and tinged with want. Jin’s long fingers tangle themselves in Yamapi’s hair and he can hear how uneven Jin’s breathing is, hot, heavy, and irregular against his ear.
Yamapi works his fingers on the buttons of Jin’s jeans, but they fumble, clumsy and shaky as Jin moves his hands from Yamapi’s hair to his shirt, pressing them underneath the fabric to brush over his abdomen, running up his sides, and his mouth is moving down Yamapi's throat, tongue tracing the frantic pulse at the base of it before moving up to forge a trail of blazing kisses on Yamapi's jawline.
“Hurry it up,” Jin urges breathlessly in Yamapi’s ear.
“Dammit, this-” Yamapi grumbles in frustration but Jin swallows his sentence with a searing kiss, moaning in his mouth, sucking at his lower lip, before sitting up. Jin’s hand goes to his own zipper, undoing it and the button swiftly. And then Yamapi moves with a slow roll of his body, hips thrusting upward against Jin’s and feels, rather than hears, Jin’s sharp intake of air and the shudder that accompanies it.
Then he does it again.
“God, Pi,” Jin manages, between moans, responding in earnest, grinding his hips against Yamapi’s, craving the friction through their clothes. Jin slumps forward, back bowing, forearms coming to rest on the floor beside Yamapi’s torso, their foreheads touching. He presses their lips together, feather light.
"Who is winning now?" Yamapi whispers, sliding a hand inside Jin’s pants. But Jin doesn't seem to be in the proper mindset to formulate a reply, not when Yamapi’s hand is pressed against him like that, not when all he really wants is Yamapi to move, just move move move.
“Fuck, Pi. What are you waiting for?” Jin bites out, bucking his hips against Yamapi’s.
Yamapi is glad to oblige, his hips snap up and roll against Jin’s, inconsistent thrusts, hard and fast, setting a pace that permeates their clothes and forces Jin to arch his back, his body curving, taut as a bow.
Jin groans, almost at the brink of something as he grabs Yamapi by his shoulders, his fingers digging into flesh and probably bruising his skin with the force they are exerting. Jin takes Yamapi’s earlobe into his mouth, tracing the shell of it with his tongue and causing Yamapi’s breath to hitch in his chest.
Jin’s movements are completely erratic, and Yamapi is so certain of this, so certain of his complete victory over Jin that he doesn’t even realize that control is being wrested away from him when Jin suddenly unbuttons Yamapi’s jeans, pulls him along just like that. And then Jin’s hand is around him, his grasp firm, warm and frantic, and Jin is moving his fingers in that agonizing way, alternating between slow and fast strokes, making Yamapi’s nerves spasm, as if somebody has just set them ablaze.
“Jin, oh God, Jin -”
“Just move, dammit, keep moving.”
And Yamapi moans, a low whining sound from his throat as they move against each other, actions devoid of grace and eloquence. There is no poise in this, nothing smooth or delicate, but it isn’t as if anything exists beyond that cocoon of heat and pleasure, of frenzied breathing and disorientated movement. Nothing beyond them.
Jin is close, so achingly close, and Yamapi can feel it as well. His eyes are closed tightly, but that doesn’t block the spots that are blooming in his vision, and he is almost there, almost there there there there -
There is a roar of something thunderous in his ear as he comes and over that, the hoarse cry of his name as Jin collapses on top of him seconds later. And they lie there, too spent to even consider getting up.
Yamapi struggles to catch his own breath, but that seems relatively impossible right then; he feels too giddy, too heady. Instead, he just lazily buries his nose in the crook of Jin's neck, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. He laughs softly.
"What," Jin says, lacking the energy to even change that into a proper question. When Yamapi doesn't answer right away, Jin jabs a finger into Yamapi's side. "Whaaaaaat?" he asks, a whine creeping into his voice.
"Umm, cheeseburger?" Yamapi offers with a tilt of his head and a crooked smile.
Jin's stomach saves him from replying by dutifully grumbling its consent. "But wait, what about your essay?"
Oh yeah. "Umm...I suppose I can put it off until we get some food. Not like I can think straight now anyway. I'm starving."
"Oh, all right then." Slowly, Jin drags himself off of Yamapi and stands up. "Well, if anything, you can write about how the demand for cheeseburgers has risen in the past five years." He extends a hand to help Yamapi off the floor. "But the prices haven't changed that much, which just proves Publilius Syrus' quote, which says, ‘Everything is worth what its purchaser will pay for it.'"
Yamapi, who is just about to let Jin haul him to his feet, freezes in mid-motion and stares at his best friend. "...What?"
"Oh, nothing. Cheeseburger?"