Super Junior; Kihae; Sleeves and Other Unnecessary Things
Title: Sleeves and Other Unnecessary Things
Fandom: Super Junior
Pairing: Kibum/Donghae
Word count: 2,060
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kibum has ~*~arms of sex~*~ and Donghae can’t escape from them.
Warnings: PWP? Unnecessary smut. Possibly bad smut, idek.
A/N: Inspired by a late night conversation in which someone brought up Kibum’s ~*~arms of sex~*~ again, and I went off on a tangent about arms and Donghae’s teeth and there was something about tongues in there. Late night always = Kihae smut, apparently. Stop inspiring me at late night, I have to write something other than Kihae at some point.
Also, if Kibum didn’t dress like a sex god, I wouldn’t write him as one. And I don’t know when this is set. It should technically be around Don’t Don, but there’s a mention of Zhou Mi in here, so I really don’t know. :D?
There’s one shirt still hanging up on the rack, a black one, with shiny silver buttons running down the front, and no sleeves, and Donghae thinks that it looks lonely, hanging there by itself. It’s possibly Heechul’s, because it looks like something that Heechul would wear, or maybe Hankyung’s, because he wears a lot of sleeveless things, but then Hankyung walks past to leave the room, Heechul hanging over his shoulders, and both of them are already dressed for the performance. The more he looks, the more the shirt looks lonely. He stands up to take his own off in order to hang it back up, so that the shirt will not be so alone.
At that moment Kibum rushes into the room, just back from filming the latest episode of his drama, looking stressed and flushed, as he practically runs past Donghae. “Hi, Kibum!” trills Donghae, but Kibum barely gives him a second glance, just mutters hi hyung as he goes past, grabs the shirt from the rack, and disappears behind one of the curtains where they get dressed.
Donghae starts singing as he waits for them to be called up onto stage, a happy song that his mother used to sing to him when he was younger. Eunhyuk gives him a strange look and leaves too, so then he is the only one there, and then the song dies in his throat and he chokes on his tongue as Kibum comes back around the curtain, dressed in the shirt.
It’s sleeveless, he thinks, and has to remind himself that he already knew that, because he’s been staring at it for the past half an hour trying to work out if synthetic materials are able to have emotions. He knows that it’s sleeveless, he knows that, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s sleeveless, gloriously sleeveless, because Donghae has been trying to get Kibum to wear sleeveless things for a long time now.
He sends a prayer up to the heavens, thanking God for their wonderful stylists.
Only, he realises with rather sweaty palms, perhaps he should have encouraged Kibum to only wear such things at home, in the privacy of his own flat, where he can drag Kibum off somewhere and pull him close, gripping Kibum’s arms as he pushes him against the wall and Donghae hooks a leg around his knee and thrusts against his hand - and Donghae chokes again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“Are you okay, hyung?” asks Kibum, looking at him in the mirror, hand coming up to fluff at his hair, and the muscles in his arm shift under his skin, golden and smooth and Donghae wants to be gripping Kibum’s hair as his tongue swirls into the hollow of his belly button and further down still, mouth around his cock, hot and wet and - and Kibum is staring at him. “You look a little flushed?”
“I’m fine,” says Donghae, and his voice is too high, far too high. “I’m fine, just, you know, nervous. About the performance. Nervous, ha. Ho hum.”
“Okay,” says Kibum slowly, and goes back to doing his hair. Donghae can’t stop staring, and soon someone is going to come in and realise that he is staring, and then he will have to explain that it is because Kibum is so hot, and then everyone will think that he is even weirder than they already do, and that simply won’t do. Oh, he thinks suddenly, with something akin to panic. If anyone comes over here, they will see that I am quite obviously-
Kibum is suddenly standing in front of him, hand pressed to his forehead, and Donghae yelps and almost falls off the table that he is sitting on, but instead he falls sideways into Kibum’s arm, and Kibum pushes him upright and goes back to checking his temperature. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking more than a little worried. “You’re burning up.”
“Burning up,” repeats Donghae dully, and if he moves just a little to the left, he would probably be able to brush up against Kibum’s leg, the two layers of denim providing the most fantastic friction, and he runs his tongue across his teeth as Kibum’s fingers drift from his forehead.
“You seem to be alright,” he says doubtfully, and walks back over to the mirror, and Donghae notices for the first time that he is wearing eyeliner, and really, Donghae is not alright, because he has a fucking hard on, and Kibum is going to notice that any minute now, and will tell him that he has to get a grip on himself because they have to be on stage any minute now, and that fucking lecture will just make Donghae even more turned on, so, you see, it is a vicious circle of sexual desire and no actual sex.
Donghae vows to change this. “When do we have to be on stage?” he asks casually, standing up and pressing half of his front to half of Kibum’s back, so that he can sling his arm across his shoulder and get prepared for his assault.
“In about fifteen minutes, or so I was told,” says Kibum a little vaguely, and Donghae grins at him in the mirror and presses a little closer, and the make up brush falls from Kibum’s hand and he stares at his reflection. “Donghae,” he says warningly. “You-”
But Donghae doesn’t allow him to finish, choosing instead to yank him through one of the curtains into one of the areas that had been set off for getting dressed for performances, though Donghae thinks cheerfully that he would prefer in this situation, to be getting un dressed for an entirely different type of performance. He waggles his eyebrows at Kibum. Kibum opens his mouth, scowling. Donghae immediately leaps forward and takes advantage of that open mouth by sticking his tongue in it.
Kibum makes a strangled sound, that may possibly have been a fucking hell, Donghae!, or a I’m going to fuck you to hell, Donghae!. Donghae really hopes it’s the second one, but he has a feeling that that’s just his mind playing tricks on him, and it’s probably the first one. Still. You win some, you lose some, and he certainly appears to be winning this one.
“I’m going to-” begins Kibum when Donghae pulls away slight, and Donghae just nips at his bottom lip lightly before he can get the words out, and Kibum makes that strangled noise again, his hand on Donghae’s waist twitching and sending the movement vibrating through Donghae’s body.
“Yes, please,” says Donghae, and grin widely, and Kibum just moans at him.
“We have to be on stage,” he says, as Donghae’s hand drifts down his stomach. “In fiftee-en minutes.” His voice catches slightly as Donghae rubs his hand in a circle across the crotch of his jeans, and so Donghae does it again, a little firmer, and he can practically see Kibum’s resolution crumbling before his eyes.
“We’ll just have to be quick,” he says softly against Kibum’s neck.
“Anyone could walk it,” says Kibum, though his voice is barely there, and it catches again as Donghae sucks at his skin, purple blooming into life.
“We’ll have to quiet, too,” says Donghae, and he’s so hard now that it’s almost painful, and he doesn’t care what Kibum has to say, they’re having sex right there and then. “Really quiet as you fuck me, really fucking silent as people walk around outside unaware that beyond the curtain you’re on your knees, mouth-”
He is interrupted by Kibum kissing him roughly, teeth clashing, as Kibum rubs himself against his palm firmly, and Donghae would be grinning, would be laughing at the effects that his words had on Kibum, but Kibum is doing something with his tongue, something fucking fantastic so that Donghae’s mind isn’t really functioning anyway, and if Kibum pulled away then, Donghae would be in a complete stupor, just reaching blindly out. Luckily, Kibum doesn’t pull away, he just moves his mouth so that he is kissing Donghae’s jaw, teeth scraping at the skin as his hands fumble with the buttons on Donghae’s trousers. It takes Donghae three deep breaths before he can work out what Kibum is hissing at him.
“Just fucking hurry up, would you?” he is asking, and Donghae takes this as meaning that he is officially having sex right now, but he is still slightly too slow, because his jeans hit the floor before he can even work out how Kibum’s belt works, and just as he manages to get the buckle undone, Kibum’s pushed his underwear down and is turning him around so that his chest would be pressed up against the wall if he hadn’t pushed his forearms out to brace himself.
“Wow,” he says quietly, grinning with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. “I know I said fast, but that was just unexpected.”
“Usually,” says Kibum, laughter in his voice, “You’re complaining because I’m going too slow.”
“That’s true,” says Donghae with a laugh, and there is nothing other than heavy breathing for the next minute or so, until Kibum slides a wet finger into him, and then another, and Donghae pushes back against him.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”
“Shut the fuck up,” says Kibum. “Do you want someone to hear?” And he forces the fingers of his free hand into Donghae’s mouth to keep him quiet. Donghae sucks on them; Kibum groans and replaces his fingers at the back with his cock, sliding in so horribly slowly that Donghae pushes his own hips back impatiently, and he would have cried out hoarsely if Kibum’s fingers weren’t in the way.
Kibum’s hand comes around to stroke Donghae, fingers still slightly wet, and his fingers are still too slow, the rhythm still far too slow, and he tries to tell Kibum to hurry up, but it just comes out as a muffled whine. Kibum, however, seems to get the hint, or else the way Donghae’s tongue sweeps as his fingers give him cause, because he immediately picks up the speed, one of Donghae’s arms leaving the wall to reach down and cover Kibum’s hand with his own to guide him, so that he comes a few seconds before Kibum does, a stifled curse in his mouth but unable to get past his lips.
Kibum collapses against his back, and there is a wet patch on his shirt where he bit down to stop himself from shouting out himself. He pulls away, hands trembling, and Donghae reaches down and pull his trousers back up, and then turns around and kisses Kibum fiercely, Kibum slightly distracted by his own attempt at getting dressed.
“Donghae,” he moans, hands gripping the top of his arms but not quite pushing him away. “Donghae, let me get dressed, please? We have, like, five minutes.”
“Okay,” says Donghae, and then realises for the first time that Kibum is still wearing the shirt. He stumbles backwards slightly.
“Kibum,” he says hoarsely. “Kibum, will you take that fucking shirt off?”
“I can’t, Donghae,” says Kibum, looking at him like he is stupid. “I have to wear it for the performance.”
Donghae groans as Kibum reaches out for him, the material at his shoulder bunching as his muscles pushes it up. He kisses him quickly, shortly, and then wrenches away. “Stay away from me,” he says, as he struggles to keep his blood in his mind and not other places - you’ve just had sex, what the fuck are you, insatiable? Are you seriously turning into Zhou Mi? - and glances up at the ceiling and therefore not at Kibum’s lips, swollen and red. “Don’t come near me in the performance, I can’t be held responsible for what I do otherwise.”
“What?” Kibum sounds fairly exasperated; Donghae makes the mistake of looking at him, and there is a piece of hair that is falling into his eyes, and he flees before he can reach up and brush it back and then get dragged into touching Kibum and groping Kibum for the second time.
“You’re so fucking weird, Donghae!” Kibum shouts after him, but he sounds amused.
“You’re so fucking hot, Kibum,” says Donghae miserably, and wonders if he has time to jerk off in the bathroom.
Fandom: Super Junior
Pairing: Kibum/Donghae
Word count: 2,060
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kibum has ~*~arms of sex~*~ and Donghae can’t escape from them.
Warnings: PWP? Unnecessary smut. Possibly bad smut, idek.
A/N: Inspired by a late night conversation in which someone brought up Kibum’s ~*~arms of sex~*~ again, and I went off on a tangent about arms and Donghae’s teeth and there was something about tongues in there. Late night always = Kihae smut, apparently. Stop inspiring me at late night, I have to write something other than Kihae at some point.
Also, if Kibum didn’t dress like a sex god, I wouldn’t write him as one. And I don’t know when this is set. It should technically be around Don’t Don, but there’s a mention of Zhou Mi in here, so I really don’t know. :D?
There’s one shirt still hanging up on the rack, a black one, with shiny silver buttons running down the front, and no sleeves, and Donghae thinks that it looks lonely, hanging there by itself. It’s possibly Heechul’s, because it looks like something that Heechul would wear, or maybe Hankyung’s, because he wears a lot of sleeveless things, but then Hankyung walks past to leave the room, Heechul hanging over his shoulders, and both of them are already dressed for the performance. The more he looks, the more the shirt looks lonely. He stands up to take his own off in order to hang it back up, so that the shirt will not be so alone.
At that moment Kibum rushes into the room, just back from filming the latest episode of his drama, looking stressed and flushed, as he practically runs past Donghae. “Hi, Kibum!” trills Donghae, but Kibum barely gives him a second glance, just mutters hi hyung as he goes past, grabs the shirt from the rack, and disappears behind one of the curtains where they get dressed.
Donghae starts singing as he waits for them to be called up onto stage, a happy song that his mother used to sing to him when he was younger. Eunhyuk gives him a strange look and leaves too, so then he is the only one there, and then the song dies in his throat and he chokes on his tongue as Kibum comes back around the curtain, dressed in the shirt.
It’s sleeveless, he thinks, and has to remind himself that he already knew that, because he’s been staring at it for the past half an hour trying to work out if synthetic materials are able to have emotions. He knows that it’s sleeveless, he knows that, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s sleeveless, gloriously sleeveless, because Donghae has been trying to get Kibum to wear sleeveless things for a long time now.
He sends a prayer up to the heavens, thanking God for their wonderful stylists.
Only, he realises with rather sweaty palms, perhaps he should have encouraged Kibum to only wear such things at home, in the privacy of his own flat, where he can drag Kibum off somewhere and pull him close, gripping Kibum’s arms as he pushes him against the wall and Donghae hooks a leg around his knee and thrusts against his hand - and Donghae chokes again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“Are you okay, hyung?” asks Kibum, looking at him in the mirror, hand coming up to fluff at his hair, and the muscles in his arm shift under his skin, golden and smooth and Donghae wants to be gripping Kibum’s hair as his tongue swirls into the hollow of his belly button and further down still, mouth around his cock, hot and wet and - and Kibum is staring at him. “You look a little flushed?”
“I’m fine,” says Donghae, and his voice is too high, far too high. “I’m fine, just, you know, nervous. About the performance. Nervous, ha. Ho hum.”
“Okay,” says Kibum slowly, and goes back to doing his hair. Donghae can’t stop staring, and soon someone is going to come in and realise that he is staring, and then he will have to explain that it is because Kibum is so hot, and then everyone will think that he is even weirder than they already do, and that simply won’t do. Oh, he thinks suddenly, with something akin to panic. If anyone comes over here, they will see that I am quite obviously-
Kibum is suddenly standing in front of him, hand pressed to his forehead, and Donghae yelps and almost falls off the table that he is sitting on, but instead he falls sideways into Kibum’s arm, and Kibum pushes him upright and goes back to checking his temperature. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking more than a little worried. “You’re burning up.”
“Burning up,” repeats Donghae dully, and if he moves just a little to the left, he would probably be able to brush up against Kibum’s leg, the two layers of denim providing the most fantastic friction, and he runs his tongue across his teeth as Kibum’s fingers drift from his forehead.
“You seem to be alright,” he says doubtfully, and walks back over to the mirror, and Donghae notices for the first time that he is wearing eyeliner, and really, Donghae is not alright, because he has a fucking hard on, and Kibum is going to notice that any minute now, and will tell him that he has to get a grip on himself because they have to be on stage any minute now, and that fucking lecture will just make Donghae even more turned on, so, you see, it is a vicious circle of sexual desire and no actual sex.
Donghae vows to change this. “When do we have to be on stage?” he asks casually, standing up and pressing half of his front to half of Kibum’s back, so that he can sling his arm across his shoulder and get prepared for his assault.
“In about fifteen minutes, or so I was told,” says Kibum a little vaguely, and Donghae grins at him in the mirror and presses a little closer, and the make up brush falls from Kibum’s hand and he stares at his reflection. “Donghae,” he says warningly. “You-”
But Donghae doesn’t allow him to finish, choosing instead to yank him through one of the curtains into one of the areas that had been set off for getting dressed for performances, though Donghae thinks cheerfully that he would prefer in this situation, to be getting un dressed for an entirely different type of performance. He waggles his eyebrows at Kibum. Kibum opens his mouth, scowling. Donghae immediately leaps forward and takes advantage of that open mouth by sticking his tongue in it.
Kibum makes a strangled sound, that may possibly have been a fucking hell, Donghae!, or a I’m going to fuck you to hell, Donghae!. Donghae really hopes it’s the second one, but he has a feeling that that’s just his mind playing tricks on him, and it’s probably the first one. Still. You win some, you lose some, and he certainly appears to be winning this one.
“I’m going to-” begins Kibum when Donghae pulls away slight, and Donghae just nips at his bottom lip lightly before he can get the words out, and Kibum makes that strangled noise again, his hand on Donghae’s waist twitching and sending the movement vibrating through Donghae’s body.
“Yes, please,” says Donghae, and grin widely, and Kibum just moans at him.
“We have to be on stage,” he says, as Donghae’s hand drifts down his stomach. “In fiftee-en minutes.” His voice catches slightly as Donghae rubs his hand in a circle across the crotch of his jeans, and so Donghae does it again, a little firmer, and he can practically see Kibum’s resolution crumbling before his eyes.
“We’ll just have to be quick,” he says softly against Kibum’s neck.
“Anyone could walk it,” says Kibum, though his voice is barely there, and it catches again as Donghae sucks at his skin, purple blooming into life.
“We’ll have to quiet, too,” says Donghae, and he’s so hard now that it’s almost painful, and he doesn’t care what Kibum has to say, they’re having sex right there and then. “Really quiet as you fuck me, really fucking silent as people walk around outside unaware that beyond the curtain you’re on your knees, mouth-”
He is interrupted by Kibum kissing him roughly, teeth clashing, as Kibum rubs himself against his palm firmly, and Donghae would be grinning, would be laughing at the effects that his words had on Kibum, but Kibum is doing something with his tongue, something fucking fantastic so that Donghae’s mind isn’t really functioning anyway, and if Kibum pulled away then, Donghae would be in a complete stupor, just reaching blindly out. Luckily, Kibum doesn’t pull away, he just moves his mouth so that he is kissing Donghae’s jaw, teeth scraping at the skin as his hands fumble with the buttons on Donghae’s trousers. It takes Donghae three deep breaths before he can work out what Kibum is hissing at him.
“Just fucking hurry up, would you?” he is asking, and Donghae takes this as meaning that he is officially having sex right now, but he is still slightly too slow, because his jeans hit the floor before he can even work out how Kibum’s belt works, and just as he manages to get the buckle undone, Kibum’s pushed his underwear down and is turning him around so that his chest would be pressed up against the wall if he hadn’t pushed his forearms out to brace himself.
“Wow,” he says quietly, grinning with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. “I know I said fast, but that was just unexpected.”
“Usually,” says Kibum, laughter in his voice, “You’re complaining because I’m going too slow.”
“That’s true,” says Donghae with a laugh, and there is nothing other than heavy breathing for the next minute or so, until Kibum slides a wet finger into him, and then another, and Donghae pushes back against him.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”
“Shut the fuck up,” says Kibum. “Do you want someone to hear?” And he forces the fingers of his free hand into Donghae’s mouth to keep him quiet. Donghae sucks on them; Kibum groans and replaces his fingers at the back with his cock, sliding in so horribly slowly that Donghae pushes his own hips back impatiently, and he would have cried out hoarsely if Kibum’s fingers weren’t in the way.
Kibum’s hand comes around to stroke Donghae, fingers still slightly wet, and his fingers are still too slow, the rhythm still far too slow, and he tries to tell Kibum to hurry up, but it just comes out as a muffled whine. Kibum, however, seems to get the hint, or else the way Donghae’s tongue sweeps as his fingers give him cause, because he immediately picks up the speed, one of Donghae’s arms leaving the wall to reach down and cover Kibum’s hand with his own to guide him, so that he comes a few seconds before Kibum does, a stifled curse in his mouth but unable to get past his lips.
Kibum collapses against his back, and there is a wet patch on his shirt where he bit down to stop himself from shouting out himself. He pulls away, hands trembling, and Donghae reaches down and pull his trousers back up, and then turns around and kisses Kibum fiercely, Kibum slightly distracted by his own attempt at getting dressed.
“Donghae,” he moans, hands gripping the top of his arms but not quite pushing him away. “Donghae, let me get dressed, please? We have, like, five minutes.”
“Okay,” says Donghae, and then realises for the first time that Kibum is still wearing the shirt. He stumbles backwards slightly.
“Kibum,” he says hoarsely. “Kibum, will you take that fucking shirt off?”
“I can’t, Donghae,” says Kibum, looking at him like he is stupid. “I have to wear it for the performance.”
Donghae groans as Kibum reaches out for him, the material at his shoulder bunching as his muscles pushes it up. He kisses him quickly, shortly, and then wrenches away. “Stay away from me,” he says, as he struggles to keep his blood in his mind and not other places - you’ve just had sex, what the fuck are you, insatiable? Are you seriously turning into Zhou Mi? - and glances up at the ceiling and therefore not at Kibum’s lips, swollen and red. “Don’t come near me in the performance, I can’t be held responsible for what I do otherwise.”
“What?” Kibum sounds fairly exasperated; Donghae makes the mistake of looking at him, and there is a piece of hair that is falling into his eyes, and he flees before he can reach up and brush it back and then get dragged into touching Kibum and groping Kibum for the second time.
“You’re so fucking weird, Donghae!” Kibum shouts after him, but he sounds amused.
“You’re so fucking hot, Kibum,” says Donghae miserably, and wonders if he has time to jerk off in the bathroom.