gripping me at the edge
title: gripping me at the edge
pairing: donghae/eunhyuk
rating: nc-17
word count:2619
summary: Donghae likes working the night shift.
notes: college bar au. Title thanks to tees2mai.
gripping me at the edge
All things considered, there are worse jobs to have.
Donghae spends most of the night with his hands wrapped around bottle necks, fingers flicking beer tap handles and rubbing the same damp cloth across flat mohagony so clean his reflection smiles back at him when the light hits the surface just right. Being the one left to close up has its benefits.
By this hour, the radio is a drone of indistinct chatter, a low murmur overlapped by the sound of balls rolling across a pool table smacking into the corners but never sinking into the pockets. A frustrated sigh when the cue scrapes against the table and Donghae figures he’s had enough. They both have.
Hyukjae is already setting the cue down by the time Donghae approaches. He leans against the table, hips squared and leaning slightly forward. His tie is undone, wrinkled where the knot has been yanked away. Donghae drops the towel in his hands on a nearby table in favor of fisting the tie in his hand, pulling Hyukjae closer further still.
“How is it, you play every night and yet you only get worse?” Donghae asks, genuine curiosity mixing with the tease in his voice.
Hyukjae just shurgs but he’s smiling. Or so Donghae thinks. The lamp hanging over the table always shadows Hyukjae’s face, plays tricks on Donghae’s mind of what’s there and what isn’t. “Maybe I just like making you think I can’t play.”
Donghae raises an eyebrow, kuncles wrapping tighter, instict catching on to the game in Hyukjae’s voice. His stomach clenches when Hyukjae tips his hips forward, pressing against him, pushing and fitting their hips together. He’s been half hard for the last half hour of his shift but if Hyukjae wants to play, Donghae will. If Hyukjae wants, Donghae will tempt him through the race and let him beat him across the finish line.
“Eight ball. Left corner pocket,” Donghae challenges, calling the rules of this round. Hopefully the only round. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he promises mouth inching his mouth closer to Hyukjae’s, teasing the words on Hyukjae’s lips the way Hyukjae teases him with his hips.
But just as Hyukjae is about to clear that distance, Donghae steps away, feeling the kiss, tasting it in his mouth, the intoxicating wet heat from their last one still fresh like this morning’s coffee.
Hyukjae gives him a little smirk and pulls his tie from Donghae’s hand. Challenge accepted despite the fact that he’s the one who laid it out on the table.
Gripping the cue stick, Hyukjae leans over the table. Donghae watches his fingers, perfectly encircling and Donghae imagines them like that, just like that, but on his cock, tight and hot, his weight resting on Hyukjae’s softly calloused palm. Hyukjae looks up at him, and he knows. He always does and the smile is a dead give away.
When Hyukjae finally pulls back to shoot, the tip of the cue going back and forth in the curve his index finger forms, Donghae is pressed against the table so on edge by merely watching Hyukjae’s hands work, he almost wants Hyukjae to miss. Rip the cue stick from his hands and push him down until his nose is burried in green felt, press his chest to Hyukjae’s back and hold Hyukjae down with his weight and simply thurst his hips into the heat of Hyukjae’s spread legs, erratic, selfish and shameless.
The ball is soundless as it rolls, one, two, Donghae counts in his head, ten, infinity. It takes less than that, but time seems to freeze as the ball reaches the corner, teasing with the precipice it’s about to fall into. The one Donghae wants to be pushed off, in fact he’s about ready to jump.
And yet, Donghae isn’t ready for the sound of Hyukjae dropping the cue onto the table. Even the less for the sight of him dropping to his knees in front of him. Completely caught off guard by his zipper screeching in the silence and Hyukjae slipping his hands inside Donghae’s boxers. Almost being pushed off when Hyukjae grabs him in his hands but managing, somehow, to anchor himself right at the edge.
Hyukjae fists him with warm fingers, hand sliding along Donghae’s cock loosely and Donghae wants so much to buck into his palm, but Hyukjae is holding him against the table with his other hand, strong and firm. Donghae promised it however Hyukjae wanted. This is how Hyukjae wants it and Donghae swears.
He’s about to take it back, go back on lightly made games, when Hyukjae looks up at him through his lashes before opening his mouth and closing it around Donghae’s smooth head. Donghae grunts as he watches those lips slide along his cock, he’s all decadent addictive heat, dizzying each time Hyukjae moans and sends the tremors up Donghae’s body, straight through his cock and up to his stomach, burning him right in his spot and tatooing the burn marks on Donghae’s skin.
Hyukjae pulls away and drags his tongue on the underside of Donghae’s cock, thick and definitive and so good Donghae’s toes curl inside his shoes, and this time when he takes Donghae into his mouth, he lets Donghae thrust. Donghae gives in to the pull of his stomach, fucking Hyukjae’s mouth slowly, mind half lost in the strenght of Hyukjae’s hands restraining his movements. Controling him and Donghae induldges in the fantasy of Hyukjae pushing into him, hands gripping his hips and completely left at the mercy of Hyukjae stretching his insides and filling the void he creates with his fingers, his cock, his mouth. Anything. Everything.
“Hyukjae,” Donghae groans, breathless, hand coming down to tangle in Hyukjae’s hair and pull, hard.
Hyukjae goes down once more, rubs his tongue teasingly on Donghae’s slit and pulls away, leaving Donghae with one foot off the edge but not letting him jump. Not yet. Donghae almost whimpers at the sight of that mouth, Hyukjae’s lips full and roughly abused, and the knowledge that it’s himself who caused it, that Hyukjae wanted it, turns him on even more.
At this point, everything is jumbled movement. Hyukjae gets up, the length of their bodies flush together and mouths pressed together. Lips being nudged and pushed apart, Donghae can’t tell if it’s his tongue in Hyukjae’s mouth or Hyukjae’s in his but all he knows is he tastes himself. It’s bitter. It’s demanding, so fast it’s almost languid, so unyielding it’s soft and decievingly sweet. Doghae’s mouth is electric, Hyukjae’s lips hold the promise to diffuse, set him off and watch the sparks stir in the dark.
Hyukjae’s hands have settled themselves in Donghae’s hair, Donghae’s scarping beneath his shirt, climbing up his torso and splaying over Hyukjae’s muscle and skin. Hyukjae pushes away from his mouth, pushes Donghae back just a bit, room enough for him to take off his pants and step out of them, boxers going down with them. His hips fit perfectly between Donghae’s thighs, the tails of his shirt he’s still wearing brushing Donghae’s cock, but Hyukjae backs up and sits on top of the pool table, hissing at the contact with his feverish skin.
“Wait,” Donghae, his voice battling with itself between a protest and a comply, a surrender, because he’s no longer sure what his body is asking for, but then again, it’s not for it to decide. I’ll give you anything you want.
“Next time. I’ll fuck you next time,” Hyukjae says reading Donghae’s resistence spot on, wrapping his legs around Donghae, bringing their cocks together so fast they jerk and their hips rock together on instinct, cries melting into their mouths and tongues lapping up all the sound. “You said anything I want and I want-,” groaning, Hyukjae’s hips raise along with his voice, reaching intangible almost to the point Donghae has to grip him so hard just to make sure he’s still here. “I want you in me.”
Donghae still has the mind frame to remember the lube in his pocket his boss would kill him if he found out Donghae stashes it in the compartment behind the wine glasses they never use since college kids want two things: beer or hard liquior. Exchanging thoughts of fastening Hyukjae’s hands behind his back with the tie limply hanging around his neck, or maybe covering Hyukjae’s eyes with it and asking him to go down on his hands and knees, for skimming slicked fingers up Hyukjae’s thighs reaching the curve of his ass and filling his hands with soft skin, and it’s amazing how fickle his libido is. He’ll do literally anything Hyukjae wants, anything is good enough to take him over the edge if it’s Hyukjae who does the pushing.
Levering himself with his hands, Hyukjae’s arm tremble when Donghae pushes into him, condom rolled onto Donghae’s cock and thrusting into Hyukjae’s willingly encasing heat.
Donghae grunts as he pulls back and goes back in, deeper this time and he remebers to breathe. But it’s hard to, with Hyukjae panting and his cock searing against Donghae’s stomach where his shirt has pushed up, his head thrown back and the sweat rolling down the tense lines in his neck, calling Donghae’s mouth to take the skin into his mouth and taste it.
Pushing Hyukjae to lean back further, Donghae gives into his oral fixation, lips pressed side of Hyukjae’s neck and tongue dragging along Hyukjae’s adam’s apple, everytime Hyukjae swallows he feels the movement vibrating on his tongue and he moans.
They can’t seem to find a rhythm, one moment it’s shallow and quick jerky thrusts, the next he goes so deep Hyukjae’s entire body spasms and constrics, Donghae practically bites his tongue off each time Hyukjae’s moan gets strangled in his throat and his legs squeeze Donghae’s body tighter. Arms braced on either side of Hyukjae, their hands grazing on green felt, Donghae loses himself in the pull of Hyukjae’s body, letting it set the pace and relinquishing all control to it. Not that he had any to begin with. Not that he ever does. Hyukjae kisses his cheek, his temple, lips moving down the side of his face until he teases Donghae’s mouth away from his neck and onto his mouth. He pushes his tongue in and his legs slip down Donghae’s back, heels digging into Donghae’s lower back and pushing against the dip of Donghae’s ass.
And that’s all it takes really. The heat in Donghae’s stomach explodes, spreads through his body so rapidly if he hadn’t been holding out for so long it would be embarrassing. Hyukjae hangs on for the difusse, the cause watching the reaction he creates, legs shaking so violently the muscles in his thighs drawn impossibly tight.
Donghae pulls out of Hyukjae on automatic, only because he has to, he can barely keep himself upright anymore the shock of falling leaves him a painfully lush ache in his every limb . Hyukjae watches him with slumped shoulders, his arms slackening as he falls onto his back. Grasping his cock in his hand, Hyukjae starts jerk himself off, hand building up a rhythm Donghae’s still out of control beats follows.
It’s only a moment for it all to click in Donghae’s mind. He takes the condom off and tossse it into the nearest waste basket, if he misses he honestly doesn’t give a fuck.
Slapping Hyukjae’s hands away, Donghae hovers over Hyukjae, barely giving him a moment to say anything before taking Hyukjae into his mouth. Hyukjae gasps and leans on an elbow, his other hand coming down to run though Donghae’s hair.
Donghae wraps his hand around the base, lips going down until his mouth hits his hands. He feels his mouth stretched to its limits, groaning half in pain half in arousal and taking satifaction each time Hyukjae grunts or moans back. It doesn’t take long, Hyukjae’s already at the edge, Donghae can feel him in his own mouth, taste Hyukjae’s desperation mixed in with the bitterniss of his cum and his fingers weaving almost affectionately through his hair.
Hyukjae lets his release come gradually, he doesn’t force it down Donghae’s throat. Donghae drinks it all up anyways, maybe because he wants to, maybe because after blood, cum stains are a bitch to get off a pool table.
Hyukjae lies there as Donghae lets go of his now softend cock, moaning quietly when Donghae leaves a kiss pressed to the inisde of his thigh, inhaling that scent of sweat and sex and something that is destinctly Hyukjae that is always smeared on his skin.
Sitting up, Hyukjae breathes in, seems to suck up all the air in the room as he reaches for his pants. He takes his time zipping up, hands redoing his tie almost unafectedly, like it’s okay he keeps crossing the wide end over and over and again without making an actual knot. Donghae clicks his tongue impatiently, finishes redoing his belt and forgetting the stain Hyukjae’s precum and sweat have left on his shirt, he reaches out to do it for him. Hyukjae looks slightly embarrassed but he masks it well with a smile. Donghae isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not.
“So I guess it really was a trick,” Donghae comments, tightening the knot and letting his hands linger.
Hyukjae smiles, for real this time, his eyes crinkling in contrast to his disheveled appereance. “I guess it was.” He gets off the table and Donghae moves back, watches him grab his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugging his arms into it. “Do you have class tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah. Philosphy seminar,” Donghae answers making a face. He grabs the towell he’d left abandoned and wrings it in his hands. Something to occupy his hands with in the shift they always go through in the after. “Thinking about blowing it off.”
Hyukjae frowns but doesn’t say anything. Donghae wouldn’t listen to him anyways.
“Want something to drink?” Donghae offers, anticipating Hyukjae’s nod and heading behind the bar. Hyukjae stands on the other side waiting for Donghae to say, “Beer or wine?”
It’s always one or the other. If it’s the first, Hyukjae always drinks it fast, chugging it down like some thirst driven frat boy and Donghae gets to lock up quick, head back to his dorm and sit outside his door while his roomate finishes fucking his girlfriend so he can crawl into bed and sleep well into the afternoon. If it’s the second. The second means Hyukjae will sip red liquid slowly, set his glass down every so often to ask Donghae a question about campus life or the latest scandal at the sorority house, almost shoot wine through his nose when Donghae says the most ridiculous thing just to see him laugh. Donghae locks up a little later then he’d like, follows Hyukjae to his apartment off campus and is awoken at seven as Hyukjae rushes to get ready for the seven thirty class he has to help give.
There is a spark in Hyukjae’s eyes as he weighs out his options, wondering if he wants to light it up and set on fire or let it burn out quietly, relight it at a another time. Hyukjae girns and says, “Glass of wine, please.”
Donghae bites his lip and smiles, reaching under the counter and pulling out a wine glass. Wiping the bit of dust off with the towel, Donghae grabs the wine bottle at the end of the bar, corking it and listening to the satisfied pop break the silence.
He pours the red liquid and thinks there really are far worse jobs to have after all.
pairing: donghae/eunhyuk
rating: nc-17
word count:2619
summary: Donghae likes working the night shift.
notes: college bar au. Title thanks to tees2mai.
gripping me at the edge
All things considered, there are worse jobs to have.
Donghae spends most of the night with his hands wrapped around bottle necks, fingers flicking beer tap handles and rubbing the same damp cloth across flat mohagony so clean his reflection smiles back at him when the light hits the surface just right. Being the one left to close up has its benefits.
By this hour, the radio is a drone of indistinct chatter, a low murmur overlapped by the sound of balls rolling across a pool table smacking into the corners but never sinking into the pockets. A frustrated sigh when the cue scrapes against the table and Donghae figures he’s had enough. They both have.
Hyukjae is already setting the cue down by the time Donghae approaches. He leans against the table, hips squared and leaning slightly forward. His tie is undone, wrinkled where the knot has been yanked away. Donghae drops the towel in his hands on a nearby table in favor of fisting the tie in his hand, pulling Hyukjae closer further still.
“How is it, you play every night and yet you only get worse?” Donghae asks, genuine curiosity mixing with the tease in his voice.
Hyukjae just shurgs but he’s smiling. Or so Donghae thinks. The lamp hanging over the table always shadows Hyukjae’s face, plays tricks on Donghae’s mind of what’s there and what isn’t. “Maybe I just like making you think I can’t play.”
Donghae raises an eyebrow, kuncles wrapping tighter, instict catching on to the game in Hyukjae’s voice. His stomach clenches when Hyukjae tips his hips forward, pressing against him, pushing and fitting their hips together. He’s been half hard for the last half hour of his shift but if Hyukjae wants to play, Donghae will. If Hyukjae wants, Donghae will tempt him through the race and let him beat him across the finish line.
“Eight ball. Left corner pocket,” Donghae challenges, calling the rules of this round. Hopefully the only round. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he promises mouth inching his mouth closer to Hyukjae’s, teasing the words on Hyukjae’s lips the way Hyukjae teases him with his hips.
But just as Hyukjae is about to clear that distance, Donghae steps away, feeling the kiss, tasting it in his mouth, the intoxicating wet heat from their last one still fresh like this morning’s coffee.
Hyukjae gives him a little smirk and pulls his tie from Donghae’s hand. Challenge accepted despite the fact that he’s the one who laid it out on the table.
Gripping the cue stick, Hyukjae leans over the table. Donghae watches his fingers, perfectly encircling and Donghae imagines them like that, just like that, but on his cock, tight and hot, his weight resting on Hyukjae’s softly calloused palm. Hyukjae looks up at him, and he knows. He always does and the smile is a dead give away.
When Hyukjae finally pulls back to shoot, the tip of the cue going back and forth in the curve his index finger forms, Donghae is pressed against the table so on edge by merely watching Hyukjae’s hands work, he almost wants Hyukjae to miss. Rip the cue stick from his hands and push him down until his nose is burried in green felt, press his chest to Hyukjae’s back and hold Hyukjae down with his weight and simply thurst his hips into the heat of Hyukjae’s spread legs, erratic, selfish and shameless.
The ball is soundless as it rolls, one, two, Donghae counts in his head, ten, infinity. It takes less than that, but time seems to freeze as the ball reaches the corner, teasing with the precipice it’s about to fall into. The one Donghae wants to be pushed off, in fact he’s about ready to jump.
And yet, Donghae isn’t ready for the sound of Hyukjae dropping the cue onto the table. Even the less for the sight of him dropping to his knees in front of him. Completely caught off guard by his zipper screeching in the silence and Hyukjae slipping his hands inside Donghae’s boxers. Almost being pushed off when Hyukjae grabs him in his hands but managing, somehow, to anchor himself right at the edge.
Hyukjae fists him with warm fingers, hand sliding along Donghae’s cock loosely and Donghae wants so much to buck into his palm, but Hyukjae is holding him against the table with his other hand, strong and firm. Donghae promised it however Hyukjae wanted. This is how Hyukjae wants it and Donghae swears.
He’s about to take it back, go back on lightly made games, when Hyukjae looks up at him through his lashes before opening his mouth and closing it around Donghae’s smooth head. Donghae grunts as he watches those lips slide along his cock, he’s all decadent addictive heat, dizzying each time Hyukjae moans and sends the tremors up Donghae’s body, straight through his cock and up to his stomach, burning him right in his spot and tatooing the burn marks on Donghae’s skin.
Hyukjae pulls away and drags his tongue on the underside of Donghae’s cock, thick and definitive and so good Donghae’s toes curl inside his shoes, and this time when he takes Donghae into his mouth, he lets Donghae thrust. Donghae gives in to the pull of his stomach, fucking Hyukjae’s mouth slowly, mind half lost in the strenght of Hyukjae’s hands restraining his movements. Controling him and Donghae induldges in the fantasy of Hyukjae pushing into him, hands gripping his hips and completely left at the mercy of Hyukjae stretching his insides and filling the void he creates with his fingers, his cock, his mouth. Anything. Everything.
“Hyukjae,” Donghae groans, breathless, hand coming down to tangle in Hyukjae’s hair and pull, hard.
Hyukjae goes down once more, rubs his tongue teasingly on Donghae’s slit and pulls away, leaving Donghae with one foot off the edge but not letting him jump. Not yet. Donghae almost whimpers at the sight of that mouth, Hyukjae’s lips full and roughly abused, and the knowledge that it’s himself who caused it, that Hyukjae wanted it, turns him on even more.
At this point, everything is jumbled movement. Hyukjae gets up, the length of their bodies flush together and mouths pressed together. Lips being nudged and pushed apart, Donghae can’t tell if it’s his tongue in Hyukjae’s mouth or Hyukjae’s in his but all he knows is he tastes himself. It’s bitter. It’s demanding, so fast it’s almost languid, so unyielding it’s soft and decievingly sweet. Doghae’s mouth is electric, Hyukjae’s lips hold the promise to diffuse, set him off and watch the sparks stir in the dark.
Hyukjae’s hands have settled themselves in Donghae’s hair, Donghae’s scarping beneath his shirt, climbing up his torso and splaying over Hyukjae’s muscle and skin. Hyukjae pushes away from his mouth, pushes Donghae back just a bit, room enough for him to take off his pants and step out of them, boxers going down with them. His hips fit perfectly between Donghae’s thighs, the tails of his shirt he’s still wearing brushing Donghae’s cock, but Hyukjae backs up and sits on top of the pool table, hissing at the contact with his feverish skin.
“Wait,” Donghae, his voice battling with itself between a protest and a comply, a surrender, because he’s no longer sure what his body is asking for, but then again, it’s not for it to decide. I’ll give you anything you want.
“Next time. I’ll fuck you next time,” Hyukjae says reading Donghae’s resistence spot on, wrapping his legs around Donghae, bringing their cocks together so fast they jerk and their hips rock together on instinct, cries melting into their mouths and tongues lapping up all the sound. “You said anything I want and I want-,” groaning, Hyukjae’s hips raise along with his voice, reaching intangible almost to the point Donghae has to grip him so hard just to make sure he’s still here. “I want you in me.”
Donghae still has the mind frame to remember the lube in his pocket his boss would kill him if he found out Donghae stashes it in the compartment behind the wine glasses they never use since college kids want two things: beer or hard liquior. Exchanging thoughts of fastening Hyukjae’s hands behind his back with the tie limply hanging around his neck, or maybe covering Hyukjae’s eyes with it and asking him to go down on his hands and knees, for skimming slicked fingers up Hyukjae’s thighs reaching the curve of his ass and filling his hands with soft skin, and it’s amazing how fickle his libido is. He’ll do literally anything Hyukjae wants, anything is good enough to take him over the edge if it’s Hyukjae who does the pushing.
Levering himself with his hands, Hyukjae’s arm tremble when Donghae pushes into him, condom rolled onto Donghae’s cock and thrusting into Hyukjae’s willingly encasing heat.
Donghae grunts as he pulls back and goes back in, deeper this time and he remebers to breathe. But it’s hard to, with Hyukjae panting and his cock searing against Donghae’s stomach where his shirt has pushed up, his head thrown back and the sweat rolling down the tense lines in his neck, calling Donghae’s mouth to take the skin into his mouth and taste it.
Pushing Hyukjae to lean back further, Donghae gives into his oral fixation, lips pressed side of Hyukjae’s neck and tongue dragging along Hyukjae’s adam’s apple, everytime Hyukjae swallows he feels the movement vibrating on his tongue and he moans.
They can’t seem to find a rhythm, one moment it’s shallow and quick jerky thrusts, the next he goes so deep Hyukjae’s entire body spasms and constrics, Donghae practically bites his tongue off each time Hyukjae’s moan gets strangled in his throat and his legs squeeze Donghae’s body tighter. Arms braced on either side of Hyukjae, their hands grazing on green felt, Donghae loses himself in the pull of Hyukjae’s body, letting it set the pace and relinquishing all control to it. Not that he had any to begin with. Not that he ever does. Hyukjae kisses his cheek, his temple, lips moving down the side of his face until he teases Donghae’s mouth away from his neck and onto his mouth. He pushes his tongue in and his legs slip down Donghae’s back, heels digging into Donghae’s lower back and pushing against the dip of Donghae’s ass.
And that’s all it takes really. The heat in Donghae’s stomach explodes, spreads through his body so rapidly if he hadn’t been holding out for so long it would be embarrassing. Hyukjae hangs on for the difusse, the cause watching the reaction he creates, legs shaking so violently the muscles in his thighs drawn impossibly tight.
Donghae pulls out of Hyukjae on automatic, only because he has to, he can barely keep himself upright anymore the shock of falling leaves him a painfully lush ache in his every limb . Hyukjae watches him with slumped shoulders, his arms slackening as he falls onto his back. Grasping his cock in his hand, Hyukjae starts jerk himself off, hand building up a rhythm Donghae’s still out of control beats follows.
It’s only a moment for it all to click in Donghae’s mind. He takes the condom off and tossse it into the nearest waste basket, if he misses he honestly doesn’t give a fuck.
Slapping Hyukjae’s hands away, Donghae hovers over Hyukjae, barely giving him a moment to say anything before taking Hyukjae into his mouth. Hyukjae gasps and leans on an elbow, his other hand coming down to run though Donghae’s hair.
Donghae wraps his hand around the base, lips going down until his mouth hits his hands. He feels his mouth stretched to its limits, groaning half in pain half in arousal and taking satifaction each time Hyukjae grunts or moans back. It doesn’t take long, Hyukjae’s already at the edge, Donghae can feel him in his own mouth, taste Hyukjae’s desperation mixed in with the bitterniss of his cum and his fingers weaving almost affectionately through his hair.
Hyukjae lets his release come gradually, he doesn’t force it down Donghae’s throat. Donghae drinks it all up anyways, maybe because he wants to, maybe because after blood, cum stains are a bitch to get off a pool table.
Hyukjae lies there as Donghae lets go of his now softend cock, moaning quietly when Donghae leaves a kiss pressed to the inisde of his thigh, inhaling that scent of sweat and sex and something that is destinctly Hyukjae that is always smeared on his skin.
Sitting up, Hyukjae breathes in, seems to suck up all the air in the room as he reaches for his pants. He takes his time zipping up, hands redoing his tie almost unafectedly, like it’s okay he keeps crossing the wide end over and over and again without making an actual knot. Donghae clicks his tongue impatiently, finishes redoing his belt and forgetting the stain Hyukjae’s precum and sweat have left on his shirt, he reaches out to do it for him. Hyukjae looks slightly embarrassed but he masks it well with a smile. Donghae isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not.
“So I guess it really was a trick,” Donghae comments, tightening the knot and letting his hands linger.
Hyukjae smiles, for real this time, his eyes crinkling in contrast to his disheveled appereance. “I guess it was.” He gets off the table and Donghae moves back, watches him grab his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugging his arms into it. “Do you have class tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah. Philosphy seminar,” Donghae answers making a face. He grabs the towell he’d left abandoned and wrings it in his hands. Something to occupy his hands with in the shift they always go through in the after. “Thinking about blowing it off.”
Hyukjae frowns but doesn’t say anything. Donghae wouldn’t listen to him anyways.
“Want something to drink?” Donghae offers, anticipating Hyukjae’s nod and heading behind the bar. Hyukjae stands on the other side waiting for Donghae to say, “Beer or wine?”
It’s always one or the other. If it’s the first, Hyukjae always drinks it fast, chugging it down like some thirst driven frat boy and Donghae gets to lock up quick, head back to his dorm and sit outside his door while his roomate finishes fucking his girlfriend so he can crawl into bed and sleep well into the afternoon. If it’s the second. The second means Hyukjae will sip red liquid slowly, set his glass down every so often to ask Donghae a question about campus life or the latest scandal at the sorority house, almost shoot wine through his nose when Donghae says the most ridiculous thing just to see him laugh. Donghae locks up a little later then he’d like, follows Hyukjae to his apartment off campus and is awoken at seven as Hyukjae rushes to get ready for the seven thirty class he has to help give.
There is a spark in Hyukjae’s eyes as he weighs out his options, wondering if he wants to light it up and set on fire or let it burn out quietly, relight it at a another time. Hyukjae girns and says, “Glass of wine, please.”
Donghae bites his lip and smiles, reaching under the counter and pulling out a wine glass. Wiping the bit of dust off with the towel, Donghae grabs the wine bottle at the end of the bar, corking it and listening to the satisfied pop break the silence.
He pours the red liquid and thinks there really are far worse jobs to have after all.