Super Junior AU; Various Pairings; Drabbles 10
Title: Drabbles 10
Fandom: Super Junior AU (High School)
Pairing: Various pairings (Kyuhyun/Sungmin, Kibum/Donghae, Hankyung/Heechul)
Word count: Between 400 and 1000
Rating: PG - R
Summary: Super Junior AU Drabbles part 10
A/N: I got myself a proper layout! My new shipping bias: let me show you it.
Heechul would kill me for writing him into situations like this in anything other than this AU, trufax. He'd probably hunt me down. Also, Kihae fluffy fluff and Kyuhyun angsty angst, ew!
I got a prompt through the generator: Heechul / Hankyung / crossdressing. I can safely say that I have completed that one, in all manner of ways.
Kyuhyun / Sungmin / homesick / PG / 979 words
His father decided that he was going to pay for his tuition, so Kyuhyun was pretty much stuck with the business major that was chosen without his knowledge. He had always been lead to believe that his money would be his when he turned eighteen, and he could be free, but the money was not given to him just like that, instead paid in monthly instalments, small monthly instalments, until he turned twenty one and was then deemed capable of looking after his money.
So his father chose for him, and beyond running away (impossible on the money that he was being given - truly a pitiful amount, also decided by his father, who was deemed the best person to decide), he had to go along with the business classes that were supposed to prepare him for life in the family business that he had no intention of ever joining. His father was even paying for his flat, a tiny one-bedroom thing in a fairly decent neighbourhood, but which needed doing up, and had a tap that leaked constantly.
Unbeknownst to his father, he had also signed up for the some of the same music classes that Ryeowook was taking, the classes in singing and voice control, and because his father didn’t know, his father wasn’t paying for them, and so Kyuhyun had had to get a job, because his monthly allowance was just enough for food and a couple of nights out a month, but nothing else. His father knew about the job in the café a few streets away from where he lived, and he approved of it, thinking that he had only taken it in order to make some more money, and believing that it was teaching his pathetic youngest son how to do something useful - Kyuhyun gets some satisfaction out of knowing the true reason.
Sungmin still lived at home, his house close enough to his arts college for him to remain in the comfort of the house that he had grown up in - Sungmin’s words, not Kyuhyun’s - but Kyuhyun lived too far away, the mansion too far away for him to travel to university each day, and so the flat had been both desirable and necessary. Kyuhyun does not want to be living in his family home, but sometimes, when he walked home at night, a ready meal in a plastic carrier bag dangling from his hands, he felt an intense longing for his old bedroom, with the luxury that he had taken for granted for so long, only realising how different his life was when he began to attend a normal middle school instead of the tutors that his father paid for, only when he made friends did he realise how different his childhood had been; the need for the previously unwanted hustle and bustle of the mansion, with men that he hated, and who hated him back, only grew when he unlocked the door and walked into a flat with a small television and threadbare sofa, the small rooms sweltering in winter and threatening frostbite in winter.
Sometimes Ryeowook came over, but Ryeowook was busy with the plans of his much anticipated debut sometime soon, and so the visits had become few and far between, but Kyuhyun didn’t mind. Every night when he got in, the telephone would ring, and Sungmin would be on the other end, voice bright and happy and filling the room as he talked about what had happened that day, about the girl in his fashion history seminar who kept wearing bright pink cut offs in spite of them having gone out of fashion three years earlier, about the guy in his drawing class who kept hitting on him, laughing lightly to make Kyuhyun join in.
Kyuhyun was happy to just listen to Sungmin talk, because as he listened to his voice each night, the feeling in his chest, that empty, sickening, horrific feeling of wanting to be back in the home which he had hated for so long, lessened slightly, let him breathe for a short time, and afterwards he always fell asleep with song lyrics passing through his sub consciousness, his voice growing more confident each time.
One day he came home from his job to find Sungmin sitting on the wall outside the block of flats, sudden and bright in the dark of the night, his bright pink jacket zipped up to his neck to keep out the cold, a carrier bag with a four pack of cheap beer clutched his chest. “Hey!” he shouted happily, as Kyuhyun came down the road towards him.
“Sungmin?” Kyuhyun couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and he picked up his speed slightly, as Sungmin jumped down from the wall and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s Friday,” said Sungmin, and waved the bag in his face. “No classes tomorrow, so I’ve come to keep you company tonight.”
Kyuhyun could have kissed him, and he did so, startling Sungmin into dropping his bag, and it dropped on Kyuhyun’s foot, and he yelped and jumped back. Sungmin laughed at him, and picked it up. “I’ve only brought you beer,” he said with a grin, and Kyuhyun realised that that feeling of being homesick was completely gone.
“No,” he said, “that’s not it - you - I don’t know.” He glanced down at his bag. “I’ve only got a meal for one,” he said sheepishly.
“That’s okay,” said Sungmin, smiling at him. “We can order something in, I’ve just been paid myself.” He went around the back of Kyuhyun and began pushing him towards the front door. “Come on,” he said, laughing, and Kyuhyun joined in, suddenly feeling light. “I want to see this flat that I’ve heard so many bad things about.”
“No,” said Kyuhyun firmly ten minutes later. “A couple of pink throws will not make everything much better.”
Kibum / Donghae / more like newlyweds / R / 408 words
The first time they attempt it, it doesn’t go quite as planned.
- no, it’s not that, I’m really sorry, seriously. I didn’t mean to screw it up like that. Okay, I know, far too early, I’m sorry, Kibum. Look, do you think we should try again some time -
The second time is, quite honestly, even worse.
- are you sure that this is right, because that’s kind of - no, ah, that really hurts, FUCKING HELL, Kibum, stop, please, just -
The third time, they seem to get it. Sort of.
- fuck, that’s just - fucking hell, fuck fuck fuck - wait, why are you stopping, I’d say if you weren’t doing it right -
The tenth time is the first time that they try anything out of the ordinary.
- Donghae, I can’t believe this; you’re the one who’s going to clean my sheets. That chocolate sauce is going to get everywhere, and damn, that’s really cold! Have you kept that in the freezer - OH MY GOD, do that again -
The twenty first time is at a strange time.
- Donghae, that’s the bell for the end of lunch, where are we going? Oh, fuck no, I am not getting in that cupboard with you, we should be in class and I need to - mmph!
The twenty second time is the first time that they are almost caught.
- Donghae, I think I can hear someone outside - no, seriously, stop - fucking licking and be quiet, there’s a teacher outside. No, seriously, shut the fuck up -
The twenty sixth time is the first time that Kibum finds something that he likes, a lot.
- I don’t know, something just is. Please gag me? I’ll even let you tie me up, as long as you come over here and fuck me -
The thirty first time is the first time that they are actually caught.
- No, really, I’m really sorry, Eeteuk - yeah, I know, shouldn’t be having sex in the alleyway outside your flat, anyone could come down it with their rubbish - yes, I know you did, look, just calm down, would you? You’re going to have a heart attack -
From the first time to the last time they did it (fiftieth and counting), they all end the same.
- Love you. - I love you too.
Hankyung / Heechul / a suggestive manner of speaking / PG-13 / 720 words
It started with a murmur of dissent coming from a corner of the room, which spread like a ripple throughout all those present, until those discussing the situation were close enough to Hankyung for him to be able to understand them.
“Should he be in this room?” asked a boy standing a little way from them nervously, and glanced down at Heechul, who was unpacking. “I mean, do you not think he should be with the girls? He’s no threat to them.”
“I don’t think I want to sleep next to him,” said another. “From what I’ve heard, he’s likely to attack me in my sleep.”
Heechul paused for a second, and then continued pulling t-shirts from his suitcase, fingers trembling slightly but face completely blank. Hankyung stopped in his own unpacking to glance up at the two boys, who were continuing their conversation in low voices, sending looks over in Heechul’s direction every so often.
Their graduation trip started at some springs around an hour out of Seoul, and the school had hired out large rooms like the one that the group had hired out a year beforehand. The rooms were so large that two classes were put together, two sets of boys in one room. Yehsung’s class had been put in with Hankyung and Heechul, and they had quickly chosen a spot near the edge of the room, Hankyung in the middle, Heechul on his left and Yehsung on his right; apparently, this arrangement was a problem.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, polite, but voice just a little hard.
The two boys glanced over, looking more than nervous now, and then Heechul said softly; “Leave it, Hankyung. If they want to believe that, then that’s up to them. They’re just morons.”
“I’m just not happy about sleeping next to him,” said the second boy, apparently having been sprung into action by Heechul speaking. “I know how you feel about him, Hankyung, but how can I be certain that he won’t do something? I know about his reputation.”
Hankyung opened his mouth to say something, but Yehsung got into there before him. “What the fuck?” he asked, tone angrier than Hankyung had heard it in a while. “Are you seriously fucking suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Come on, Yehsung,” protested the boy, who was in the same class as him. “You’ve got to understand how I feel, how we all feel. He’s not exactly - I mean, his reputation does suggest that it could be dangerous to let your guard down around him.”
Heechul had his head bowed over his futon, body tense. The rumours had died down but never actually gone away, his ‘reputation’ as nothing more than a whore always playing in the background, and while he laughed it off and called those who perpetrated it idiots, Hankyung knew that he was affected by it, by the fact that he couldn’t shake it off.
“You know what?” said Yehsung in a low, dangerous tone. “You can swap with me. Heechul can sleep in between me and Hankyung. Perhaps then you’ll all feel safe enough to sleep.”
He snatched up his things from around his own bed, only just begun in his unpacking, stood up and dumped them on the bed on the left hand side of Heechul, sat down and lay back on the futon with a furious expression on his face. The boy tentatively picked his own things up and put them down on right hand side of Hankyung, who ignored him, though it was difficult to do so. The right side futon was pulled away slightly.
“Thanks, Yehsung,” said Heechul quietly, leaning over so that the rest of the people in the room, who had been watching the scene in an uneasy silence, would probably be unable to hear.
Yehsung looked at him with incredulous shock. “Don’t thank me, Heechul,” he said, and then raised his voice so that everyone would be able to hear. “I shouldn’t have to move,” he said. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Just take my thanks, would you?” said Heechul, and punched him in the arm. “God, it’s not like I go around thanking people a lot, you should take your chance to savour it while you can.”
Yehsung grinned at him; Heechul smirked back; Hankyung took over unpacking for him.
Hankyung / Heechul / a suggestive manner of speaking (part 2) / PG-13 / 839 words
Hankyung left the room half an hour later to get some snacks from one of the machines in the lobby area; when he came back fifteen minutes later, it was to find that Yehsung had also left the room, and that Heechul was standing near the wall - not where he had been when Hankyung had left - and was cornered by three guys.
“So,” said one, clearly in the middle of a sentence when Hankyung came in. He knew this one; he was the fan club leader’s brother (twin brother, he’d found out after the first time that he met him), Park Min-yeop, and it was always him who led any attacks on Heechul; Hankyung thought that there may be some sort a grudge hiding underneath the surface, some other reason as to why he seemed to hate Heechul so much. “What do you say, Princess?”
“I say,” said Heechul sweetly, “that you all get the fuck away from me before I break your nose again.”
“You never broke my nose in the first place,” said Min-yeop with some confusion.
“Really?” Heechul seemed a little surprised, and then he just shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” he said with an evil smile.
“It’s a holiday, Princess,” said Min-yeop. “And what’s a holiday without a little extra fun?” He snaked his arm around Heechul’s waist, and Hankyung suddenly knew what the conversation was about. Heechul pushed him away roughly.
“Stay the hell away from me,” he hissed. “I’m not what you say I am.”
He attempted to push past them, to get out of the group, but Min-yeop took hold of his arm and pulled him back, and when Heechul struck out, he grabbed hold of his wrist before it could do any damage and twisted it, an ugly expression on his face, so that Heechul stumbled forward with a cry of pain. He kicked out and judging by the way Min-yeop yelled and let go of him, it had worked - until one of the other two reached and took hold of Heechul at the top of his arm before he could escape.
Hankyung knew that Heechul was able to take care of himself and fight for himself, but he also knew where his own boundaries were, and they had been overstepped the moment that the other boys had used physical violence. He darted over and pulled Heechul out of the grasp of the one holding him, and stepped in front of him.
“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked, voice low.
The boys eyed him nervously. Heechul spoke in a bored tone. “Just leave it, Hankyung. They’re not worth it.”
Hankyung glanced over his shoulder at him; he was rubbing nonchalantly at his wrist, which was red and slightly swollen; there was the beginning of a bruise on the skin at the top of his arm. Heechul, Hankyung knew, didn’t like it when he or any of the others got involved in things like this, and while he claimed that it was because he could handle it himself, Hankyung wasn’t stupid; he knew that Heechul was trying to stop them from getting caught up in something that he didn’t feel they had to be part of.
“Leave him alone,” he told the three boys, over whom he had quite a few inches with which to tower. “He’s not going to sleep with you, so just stop going on at him. If I hear that you’ve done anything else to him, I will not hesitate to hit you, like I’m doing now. And you know, I can think of at least eleven others who would probably feel the same way. You should probably feel lucky that I’m the one who caught you.”
“Hankyung,” said Heechul softly, and took hold of his hand with both of his own, and pulled slightly. “This is completely ridiculous, I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” said Hankyung. “I’m just making sure that they know that it’s not just you that they’d have to deal with.”
“There’d be nothing left after I’d finished with him,” said Heechul, and his fingers danced lightly over Hankyung’s palm, calming and soothing. You don’t have to do this was left unspoken.
“I know,” said Hankyung, answering truthfully to both parts. He knew that Heechul could deal with it, trusted him enough to know his own strength, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to help out - it didn’t stop him from wanting to stop anyone from touching Heechul again, not through childish jealousy or possession, but because Heechul was affected by it, no matter what he said, and Hankyung hated that.
He let Heechul pull him around, and Heechul walked off in front for a couple of seconds, hair swinging in it’s high ponytail, and then he looked over his shoulder at the three boys; Min-yeop looked furious, while the other two were conversing in low voices.
“You know, Hankyung,” he said loudly, so that they’d be able to hear. “I think he fancies me.”
I think you’re right, thought Hankyung.
Sungmin / Kyuhyun / silk ties / R / 865 words
Kyuhyun has a lot of ties, thought Sungmin as he stood in front of Kyuhyun’s wardrobe one afternoon, as Kyuhyun showered in his en-suite bathroom, getting ready for an associate meeting to which Sungmin was cordially not invited. A lot of ties. Actually, there were surely too many ties for one person to ever wear in their life. He reached forward and touched a deep red one, made out of silk.
“You have so many ties,” he murmured when Kyuhyun came out of the bathroom, towel slung around his waist and hair dripping water down his chest. Kyuhyun just gave him a weird look and nodded slowly, and then started to get ready. He forgot about the slightly strange statement until two nights later when Sungmin was sleeping over.
He woke slowly, drawn out of his sleep by something that he couldn’t quite grasp, and moved to rub at his eyes with his hand; his hand didn’t follow his instructions, and something rubbed at his wrist. He jerked awake suddenly, fear flooding through him as he realised that his hands were above his head and - he tried to wrench them down - fastened together and then to the bedpost somehow. Sungmin’s delighted laughter met his ears.
Kyuhyun tipped his head to the side; Sungmin was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him through the darkness, eyes wide and dark. His knees tucked underneath him, he was shirtless and appeared very much awake and aware of what he was doing.
“Sungmin?” said Kyuhyun, a little desperately. “What have you tied my hands together with?”
“A couple of your ties,” said Sungmin cheerfully. “I thought you had so many that you’d never wear all of them, and anyway, there are a few that I’d never let you wear, they’re hideous. So I used those ones, because it would be such a shame to let them go to waste, don’t you think?”
“Sungmin,” repeated Kyuhyun weakly. “Why have you tied my hands together with my silk ties?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” purred Sungmin, and he moved sinuously up the bed towards him and kissed him, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. It was surreal, thought Kyuhyun, as Sungmin hovered just out of reach, and no matter how much he pulled at his restraints, he couldn’t get free to pull Sungmin closer and do this properly. The material may have been soft, fine silk, but as Sungmin’s tongue licked over the hollow of his throat, it was beginning to chafe slightly.
“Careful,” said Sungmin softly. “They’re Calvin Klein, in spite of them being repulsive.”
Kyuhyun didn’t care. “Come on, Sungmin,” he said. “This is stupid.”
Sungmin nipped at the skin of his shoulder and then glanced him up and down. “Hmm,” he said with a smile that made Kyuhyun feel slightly light-headed as he noticed Kyuhyun’s erection. “I’d say you were enjoying it anyway.”
Kyuhyun was enjoying it; that was what really annoyed him. His wrists hurt and his arms were beginning to go numb, but Sungmin’s lips were kissing down his stomach and his fingers kept slipping from toying playfully with the waistband of his pyjama bottoms to brushing over his crotch, touch light through the material, and no matter how much he pushed his hips up in an attempt at gaining more friction - he needed something, anything - Sungmin just raised his hand a little so his touch remained exactly the same. He snarled at him when Sungmin laughed, and then he gasped as his hand rubbed firmly and then jumped away again.
“You’re such a cock-tease,” he ground out. In response, Sungmin just bit down on the skin at his hip bone and sucked, and Kyuhyun made a low noise in his throat as heat shot through his body and his breath caught. Sungmin sat back up, and Kyuhyun could make out a shine on his lips, and he moaned for want of those lips placed somewhere else.
“Oh look,” said Sungmin, and his voice was so cool and collected that Kyuhyun would have hated him for it if it wasn’t so hot. “I’ve still got one more tie left.” He picked one up from beside him on the bed, black and made of a thicker material, one that Kyuhyun had worn to a family dinner two years previous. “Hmmm,” said Sungmin in a tone which dripped with mock-wonderment. “I wonder what I could do with this one. Eyes or mouth?”
He looked at Kyuhyun, lips curving, a sight that made Kyuhyun’s hips twitch even as he glared and said, “Don’t you fucking dare, Sungmin. Seriously. Don’t even fucking think about it.”
“I know,” said Sungmin quietly, and leant down and kissed him. Kyuhyun relaxed, thinking that he had given up on that idea, but then it suddenly went dark, as the material was fasten quickly his eyes.
“Sungmin!” he said loudly, and pulled his wrists in the hope that the ties had suddenly worn down so that he was free. He stopped as Sungmin’s breath was suddenly hot against his ear.
“Eyes,” he murmured, as his hands stripped Kyuhyun of his bottoms. “Because I want to hear you scream my name.”
Fandom: Super Junior AU (High School)
Pairing: Various pairings (Kyuhyun/Sungmin, Kibum/Donghae, Hankyung/Heechul)
Word count: Between 400 and 1000
Rating: PG - R
Summary: Super Junior AU Drabbles part 10
A/N: I got myself a proper layout! My new shipping bias: let me show you it.
Heechul would kill me for writing him into situations like this in anything other than this AU, trufax. He'd probably hunt me down. Also, Kihae fluffy fluff and Kyuhyun angsty angst, ew!
I got a prompt through the generator: Heechul / Hankyung / crossdressing. I can safely say that I have completed that one, in all manner of ways.
Kyuhyun / Sungmin / homesick / PG / 979 words
His father decided that he was going to pay for his tuition, so Kyuhyun was pretty much stuck with the business major that was chosen without his knowledge. He had always been lead to believe that his money would be his when he turned eighteen, and he could be free, but the money was not given to him just like that, instead paid in monthly instalments, small monthly instalments, until he turned twenty one and was then deemed capable of looking after his money.
So his father chose for him, and beyond running away (impossible on the money that he was being given - truly a pitiful amount, also decided by his father, who was deemed the best person to decide), he had to go along with the business classes that were supposed to prepare him for life in the family business that he had no intention of ever joining. His father was even paying for his flat, a tiny one-bedroom thing in a fairly decent neighbourhood, but which needed doing up, and had a tap that leaked constantly.
Unbeknownst to his father, he had also signed up for the some of the same music classes that Ryeowook was taking, the classes in singing and voice control, and because his father didn’t know, his father wasn’t paying for them, and so Kyuhyun had had to get a job, because his monthly allowance was just enough for food and a couple of nights out a month, but nothing else. His father knew about the job in the café a few streets away from where he lived, and he approved of it, thinking that he had only taken it in order to make some more money, and believing that it was teaching his pathetic youngest son how to do something useful - Kyuhyun gets some satisfaction out of knowing the true reason.
Sungmin still lived at home, his house close enough to his arts college for him to remain in the comfort of the house that he had grown up in - Sungmin’s words, not Kyuhyun’s - but Kyuhyun lived too far away, the mansion too far away for him to travel to university each day, and so the flat had been both desirable and necessary. Kyuhyun does not want to be living in his family home, but sometimes, when he walked home at night, a ready meal in a plastic carrier bag dangling from his hands, he felt an intense longing for his old bedroom, with the luxury that he had taken for granted for so long, only realising how different his life was when he began to attend a normal middle school instead of the tutors that his father paid for, only when he made friends did he realise how different his childhood had been; the need for the previously unwanted hustle and bustle of the mansion, with men that he hated, and who hated him back, only grew when he unlocked the door and walked into a flat with a small television and threadbare sofa, the small rooms sweltering in winter and threatening frostbite in winter.
Sometimes Ryeowook came over, but Ryeowook was busy with the plans of his much anticipated debut sometime soon, and so the visits had become few and far between, but Kyuhyun didn’t mind. Every night when he got in, the telephone would ring, and Sungmin would be on the other end, voice bright and happy and filling the room as he talked about what had happened that day, about the girl in his fashion history seminar who kept wearing bright pink cut offs in spite of them having gone out of fashion three years earlier, about the guy in his drawing class who kept hitting on him, laughing lightly to make Kyuhyun join in.
Kyuhyun was happy to just listen to Sungmin talk, because as he listened to his voice each night, the feeling in his chest, that empty, sickening, horrific feeling of wanting to be back in the home which he had hated for so long, lessened slightly, let him breathe for a short time, and afterwards he always fell asleep with song lyrics passing through his sub consciousness, his voice growing more confident each time.
One day he came home from his job to find Sungmin sitting on the wall outside the block of flats, sudden and bright in the dark of the night, his bright pink jacket zipped up to his neck to keep out the cold, a carrier bag with a four pack of cheap beer clutched his chest. “Hey!” he shouted happily, as Kyuhyun came down the road towards him.
“Sungmin?” Kyuhyun couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and he picked up his speed slightly, as Sungmin jumped down from the wall and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s Friday,” said Sungmin, and waved the bag in his face. “No classes tomorrow, so I’ve come to keep you company tonight.”
Kyuhyun could have kissed him, and he did so, startling Sungmin into dropping his bag, and it dropped on Kyuhyun’s foot, and he yelped and jumped back. Sungmin laughed at him, and picked it up. “I’ve only brought you beer,” he said with a grin, and Kyuhyun realised that that feeling of being homesick was completely gone.
“No,” he said, “that’s not it - you - I don’t know.” He glanced down at his bag. “I’ve only got a meal for one,” he said sheepishly.
“That’s okay,” said Sungmin, smiling at him. “We can order something in, I’ve just been paid myself.” He went around the back of Kyuhyun and began pushing him towards the front door. “Come on,” he said, laughing, and Kyuhyun joined in, suddenly feeling light. “I want to see this flat that I’ve heard so many bad things about.”
“No,” said Kyuhyun firmly ten minutes later. “A couple of pink throws will not make everything much better.”
Kibum / Donghae / more like newlyweds / R / 408 words
The first time they attempt it, it doesn’t go quite as planned.
- no, it’s not that, I’m really sorry, seriously. I didn’t mean to screw it up like that. Okay, I know, far too early, I’m sorry, Kibum. Look, do you think we should try again some time -
The second time is, quite honestly, even worse.
- are you sure that this is right, because that’s kind of - no, ah, that really hurts, FUCKING HELL, Kibum, stop, please, just -
The third time, they seem to get it. Sort of.
- fuck, that’s just - fucking hell, fuck fuck fuck - wait, why are you stopping, I’d say if you weren’t doing it right -
The tenth time is the first time that they try anything out of the ordinary.
- Donghae, I can’t believe this; you’re the one who’s going to clean my sheets. That chocolate sauce is going to get everywhere, and damn, that’s really cold! Have you kept that in the freezer - OH MY GOD, do that again -
The twenty first time is at a strange time.
- Donghae, that’s the bell for the end of lunch, where are we going? Oh, fuck no, I am not getting in that cupboard with you, we should be in class and I need to - mmph!
The twenty second time is the first time that they are almost caught.
- Donghae, I think I can hear someone outside - no, seriously, stop - fucking licking and be quiet, there’s a teacher outside. No, seriously, shut the fuck up -
The twenty sixth time is the first time that Kibum finds something that he likes, a lot.
- I don’t know, something just is. Please gag me? I’ll even let you tie me up, as long as you come over here and fuck me -
The thirty first time is the first time that they are actually caught.
- No, really, I’m really sorry, Eeteuk - yeah, I know, shouldn’t be having sex in the alleyway outside your flat, anyone could come down it with their rubbish - yes, I know you did, look, just calm down, would you? You’re going to have a heart attack -
From the first time to the last time they did it (fiftieth and counting), they all end the same.
- Love you. - I love you too.
Hankyung / Heechul / a suggestive manner of speaking / PG-13 / 720 words
It started with a murmur of dissent coming from a corner of the room, which spread like a ripple throughout all those present, until those discussing the situation were close enough to Hankyung for him to be able to understand them.
“Should he be in this room?” asked a boy standing a little way from them nervously, and glanced down at Heechul, who was unpacking. “I mean, do you not think he should be with the girls? He’s no threat to them.”
“I don’t think I want to sleep next to him,” said another. “From what I’ve heard, he’s likely to attack me in my sleep.”
Heechul paused for a second, and then continued pulling t-shirts from his suitcase, fingers trembling slightly but face completely blank. Hankyung stopped in his own unpacking to glance up at the two boys, who were continuing their conversation in low voices, sending looks over in Heechul’s direction every so often.
Their graduation trip started at some springs around an hour out of Seoul, and the school had hired out large rooms like the one that the group had hired out a year beforehand. The rooms were so large that two classes were put together, two sets of boys in one room. Yehsung’s class had been put in with Hankyung and Heechul, and they had quickly chosen a spot near the edge of the room, Hankyung in the middle, Heechul on his left and Yehsung on his right; apparently, this arrangement was a problem.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, polite, but voice just a little hard.
The two boys glanced over, looking more than nervous now, and then Heechul said softly; “Leave it, Hankyung. If they want to believe that, then that’s up to them. They’re just morons.”
“I’m just not happy about sleeping next to him,” said the second boy, apparently having been sprung into action by Heechul speaking. “I know how you feel about him, Hankyung, but how can I be certain that he won’t do something? I know about his reputation.”
Hankyung opened his mouth to say something, but Yehsung got into there before him. “What the fuck?” he asked, tone angrier than Hankyung had heard it in a while. “Are you seriously fucking suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Come on, Yehsung,” protested the boy, who was in the same class as him. “You’ve got to understand how I feel, how we all feel. He’s not exactly - I mean, his reputation does suggest that it could be dangerous to let your guard down around him.”
Heechul had his head bowed over his futon, body tense. The rumours had died down but never actually gone away, his ‘reputation’ as nothing more than a whore always playing in the background, and while he laughed it off and called those who perpetrated it idiots, Hankyung knew that he was affected by it, by the fact that he couldn’t shake it off.
“You know what?” said Yehsung in a low, dangerous tone. “You can swap with me. Heechul can sleep in between me and Hankyung. Perhaps then you’ll all feel safe enough to sleep.”
He snatched up his things from around his own bed, only just begun in his unpacking, stood up and dumped them on the bed on the left hand side of Heechul, sat down and lay back on the futon with a furious expression on his face. The boy tentatively picked his own things up and put them down on right hand side of Hankyung, who ignored him, though it was difficult to do so. The right side futon was pulled away slightly.
“Thanks, Yehsung,” said Heechul quietly, leaning over so that the rest of the people in the room, who had been watching the scene in an uneasy silence, would probably be unable to hear.
Yehsung looked at him with incredulous shock. “Don’t thank me, Heechul,” he said, and then raised his voice so that everyone would be able to hear. “I shouldn’t have to move,” he said. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Just take my thanks, would you?” said Heechul, and punched him in the arm. “God, it’s not like I go around thanking people a lot, you should take your chance to savour it while you can.”
Yehsung grinned at him; Heechul smirked back; Hankyung took over unpacking for him.
Hankyung / Heechul / a suggestive manner of speaking (part 2) / PG-13 / 839 words
Hankyung left the room half an hour later to get some snacks from one of the machines in the lobby area; when he came back fifteen minutes later, it was to find that Yehsung had also left the room, and that Heechul was standing near the wall - not where he had been when Hankyung had left - and was cornered by three guys.
“So,” said one, clearly in the middle of a sentence when Hankyung came in. He knew this one; he was the fan club leader’s brother (twin brother, he’d found out after the first time that he met him), Park Min-yeop, and it was always him who led any attacks on Heechul; Hankyung thought that there may be some sort a grudge hiding underneath the surface, some other reason as to why he seemed to hate Heechul so much. “What do you say, Princess?”
“I say,” said Heechul sweetly, “that you all get the fuck away from me before I break your nose again.”
“You never broke my nose in the first place,” said Min-yeop with some confusion.
“Really?” Heechul seemed a little surprised, and then he just shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” he said with an evil smile.
“It’s a holiday, Princess,” said Min-yeop. “And what’s a holiday without a little extra fun?” He snaked his arm around Heechul’s waist, and Hankyung suddenly knew what the conversation was about. Heechul pushed him away roughly.
“Stay the hell away from me,” he hissed. “I’m not what you say I am.”
He attempted to push past them, to get out of the group, but Min-yeop took hold of his arm and pulled him back, and when Heechul struck out, he grabbed hold of his wrist before it could do any damage and twisted it, an ugly expression on his face, so that Heechul stumbled forward with a cry of pain. He kicked out and judging by the way Min-yeop yelled and let go of him, it had worked - until one of the other two reached and took hold of Heechul at the top of his arm before he could escape.
Hankyung knew that Heechul was able to take care of himself and fight for himself, but he also knew where his own boundaries were, and they had been overstepped the moment that the other boys had used physical violence. He darted over and pulled Heechul out of the grasp of the one holding him, and stepped in front of him.
“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked, voice low.
The boys eyed him nervously. Heechul spoke in a bored tone. “Just leave it, Hankyung. They’re not worth it.”
Hankyung glanced over his shoulder at him; he was rubbing nonchalantly at his wrist, which was red and slightly swollen; there was the beginning of a bruise on the skin at the top of his arm. Heechul, Hankyung knew, didn’t like it when he or any of the others got involved in things like this, and while he claimed that it was because he could handle it himself, Hankyung wasn’t stupid; he knew that Heechul was trying to stop them from getting caught up in something that he didn’t feel they had to be part of.
“Leave him alone,” he told the three boys, over whom he had quite a few inches with which to tower. “He’s not going to sleep with you, so just stop going on at him. If I hear that you’ve done anything else to him, I will not hesitate to hit you, like I’m doing now. And you know, I can think of at least eleven others who would probably feel the same way. You should probably feel lucky that I’m the one who caught you.”
“Hankyung,” said Heechul softly, and took hold of his hand with both of his own, and pulled slightly. “This is completely ridiculous, I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” said Hankyung. “I’m just making sure that they know that it’s not just you that they’d have to deal with.”
“There’d be nothing left after I’d finished with him,” said Heechul, and his fingers danced lightly over Hankyung’s palm, calming and soothing. You don’t have to do this was left unspoken.
“I know,” said Hankyung, answering truthfully to both parts. He knew that Heechul could deal with it, trusted him enough to know his own strength, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to help out - it didn’t stop him from wanting to stop anyone from touching Heechul again, not through childish jealousy or possession, but because Heechul was affected by it, no matter what he said, and Hankyung hated that.
He let Heechul pull him around, and Heechul walked off in front for a couple of seconds, hair swinging in it’s high ponytail, and then he looked over his shoulder at the three boys; Min-yeop looked furious, while the other two were conversing in low voices.
“You know, Hankyung,” he said loudly, so that they’d be able to hear. “I think he fancies me.”
I think you’re right, thought Hankyung.
Sungmin / Kyuhyun / silk ties / R / 865 words
Kyuhyun has a lot of ties, thought Sungmin as he stood in front of Kyuhyun’s wardrobe one afternoon, as Kyuhyun showered in his en-suite bathroom, getting ready for an associate meeting to which Sungmin was cordially not invited. A lot of ties. Actually, there were surely too many ties for one person to ever wear in their life. He reached forward and touched a deep red one, made out of silk.
“You have so many ties,” he murmured when Kyuhyun came out of the bathroom, towel slung around his waist and hair dripping water down his chest. Kyuhyun just gave him a weird look and nodded slowly, and then started to get ready. He forgot about the slightly strange statement until two nights later when Sungmin was sleeping over.
He woke slowly, drawn out of his sleep by something that he couldn’t quite grasp, and moved to rub at his eyes with his hand; his hand didn’t follow his instructions, and something rubbed at his wrist. He jerked awake suddenly, fear flooding through him as he realised that his hands were above his head and - he tried to wrench them down - fastened together and then to the bedpost somehow. Sungmin’s delighted laughter met his ears.
Kyuhyun tipped his head to the side; Sungmin was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him through the darkness, eyes wide and dark. His knees tucked underneath him, he was shirtless and appeared very much awake and aware of what he was doing.
“Sungmin?” said Kyuhyun, a little desperately. “What have you tied my hands together with?”
“A couple of your ties,” said Sungmin cheerfully. “I thought you had so many that you’d never wear all of them, and anyway, there are a few that I’d never let you wear, they’re hideous. So I used those ones, because it would be such a shame to let them go to waste, don’t you think?”
“Sungmin,” repeated Kyuhyun weakly. “Why have you tied my hands together with my silk ties?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” purred Sungmin, and he moved sinuously up the bed towards him and kissed him, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. It was surreal, thought Kyuhyun, as Sungmin hovered just out of reach, and no matter how much he pulled at his restraints, he couldn’t get free to pull Sungmin closer and do this properly. The material may have been soft, fine silk, but as Sungmin’s tongue licked over the hollow of his throat, it was beginning to chafe slightly.
“Careful,” said Sungmin softly. “They’re Calvin Klein, in spite of them being repulsive.”
Kyuhyun didn’t care. “Come on, Sungmin,” he said. “This is stupid.”
Sungmin nipped at the skin of his shoulder and then glanced him up and down. “Hmm,” he said with a smile that made Kyuhyun feel slightly light-headed as he noticed Kyuhyun’s erection. “I’d say you were enjoying it anyway.”
Kyuhyun was enjoying it; that was what really annoyed him. His wrists hurt and his arms were beginning to go numb, but Sungmin’s lips were kissing down his stomach and his fingers kept slipping from toying playfully with the waistband of his pyjama bottoms to brushing over his crotch, touch light through the material, and no matter how much he pushed his hips up in an attempt at gaining more friction - he needed something, anything - Sungmin just raised his hand a little so his touch remained exactly the same. He snarled at him when Sungmin laughed, and then he gasped as his hand rubbed firmly and then jumped away again.
“You’re such a cock-tease,” he ground out. In response, Sungmin just bit down on the skin at his hip bone and sucked, and Kyuhyun made a low noise in his throat as heat shot through his body and his breath caught. Sungmin sat back up, and Kyuhyun could make out a shine on his lips, and he moaned for want of those lips placed somewhere else.
“Oh look,” said Sungmin, and his voice was so cool and collected that Kyuhyun would have hated him for it if it wasn’t so hot. “I’ve still got one more tie left.” He picked one up from beside him on the bed, black and made of a thicker material, one that Kyuhyun had worn to a family dinner two years previous. “Hmmm,” said Sungmin in a tone which dripped with mock-wonderment. “I wonder what I could do with this one. Eyes or mouth?”
He looked at Kyuhyun, lips curving, a sight that made Kyuhyun’s hips twitch even as he glared and said, “Don’t you fucking dare, Sungmin. Seriously. Don’t even fucking think about it.”
“I know,” said Sungmin quietly, and leant down and kissed him. Kyuhyun relaxed, thinking that he had given up on that idea, but then it suddenly went dark, as the material was fasten quickly his eyes.
“Sungmin!” he said loudly, and pulled his wrists in the hope that the ties had suddenly worn down so that he was free. He stopped as Sungmin’s breath was suddenly hot against his ear.
“Eyes,” he murmured, as his hands stripped Kyuhyun of his bottoms. “Because I want to hear you scream my name.”