[sj100] 009. Coffee
I'm back from Japan and I come bearing fic. It's Hyukhae. Vaguely angsty Hyukhae in which Hyuk is a failboat. Yes, I know there has been a glut of Hyukhae recently. Yes, I expect you to read this anyway.
...please? D:
Coffee
pairing: Hyukjae/Donghae
Hyukjae decides on a café in Itaewon for their meeting. He hates coffee, and the American soldiers that frequent the area, all buzz cuts and swagger, make him uneasy, but he thinks his choice sends the right message: that he is mature, sophisticated, and, most important of all, experienced.
He tries not to dwell on the fact that he is in fact none of these things. Instead, he concentrates on keeping his face from scrunching up into a grimace with each sip of espresso, on keeping the fingers of his free hand from tapping agitatedly against the tabletop, on keeping his legs from carrying him straight out of the café and back to the safety of his parents' basement. Instead, he waits and darts nervous glances around the café, looking anywhere but the door. The couple two tables over is sharing an iced coffee; under the table, the man's hand is slipping under the girl's skirt. Hyukjae watches as her eyes flash in fear and pleasure, then turns his attention to the barista behind them. He's cute, with spiky black hair and a generous smile, and given different circumstances Hyukjae is sure he would find his gaze stuck to the man as his made his way through his espresso, but now he is too nervous to take more than a passing interest. He turns his eyes back to the table in front of him and-
Oh. "Um, hi."
There he is, standing right across it. Has he been there for long? How did Hyukjae not notice?
"Hey," the man says warmly, easily-real experience, Hyukjae thinks-and holds out his hand. Hyukjae takes care not to knock over his coffee, or his chair, or the table as he stands up.
"I'm Hyukjae," he says, and the man's grip is firm but not too tight. Hyukjae's stomach flips.
"Donghae," the man says then, "You're even cuter in person." Hyukjae thinks, do people really say things like that? And do people really believe them if they do? and blushes.
"You're...yeah," he says, and blushes more, because Donghae isn't perfect, but he's closer than anyone has any right being. Hyukjae feels like he's fourteen again and by some twist of fate the most popular boy in school has deigned to talk to him.
Donghae smiles. "My place is actually just around the corner from here, so if you want to we can..."
Hyukjae nods, keeps nodding, tries not to let out the hysterical laugh he feels building in his stomach. He wants to, probably more than anything in the world, but just like that? I'm Hyukjae, I'm Donghae, ok let's go?
"Um, yeah, absolutely. Let me just finish my drink..."
Donghae's gaze flits to Hyukjae's cup of espresso. "Oh, right. Sure," he says, and in one fluid movement pulls out the chair on his side of the table and sits back into it, one leg crossed elegantly over the other and eyes lidded.
Hyukjae takes a swig of espresso and somehow manages to swallow it. "So," he says, and he knows he sounds awkward, but the prospect of silence is somehow horrifying, "what do you, um, do?"
Donghae smiles. "I'm a dancer," he says.
Hyukjae imagines him near naked, skin glistening and hair drenched with sweat, head thrown back and hips gyrating to music that's nothing but beats and moans; imagines grubby hands reaching up to slip grubby bills into the waistband of his g-string and lingering lewdly over damp skin. "Like, a...I mean, that kind of dancer?" He realizes what he's said only after he's said it, considers apologizing profusely, instead just prays that a hole will open up beneath him and swallow him into the earth.
Donghae laughs. He has a nice laugh, Hyukjae thinks despite his mortification, full and easy. "Well, yeah, that too," he says. "It helps pay the bills. But I'm trying to break into music videos. I've only been in a few so far, but I feel good about it, you know? Confident."
"Wow," Hyukjae says. "That's really cool." It is. He hopes Donghae won't ask-
"And what do you do?"
He blushes. "I'm a computer programer," he says, and Donghae nods and doesn't look uninterested, but Hyukjae panics and blurts out, "it's funny, though, about the dancing. I just started taking hip-hop classes, actually." What's funny is that he's too embarrassed to tell his family or friends that's he's started taking dance, but he has no problem telling this total stranger who's about to take him back to his place and-
"Oh, really?" Donghae says, leaning forward, eyes sparkling. "Are you any good?"
He thinks about it. "Um, my teacher says I'm pretty good at the wave," he says.
Donghae reaches out, takes the cup of coffee from his hand and downs it in one go. "Well, now that you're done with your drink, maybe you can come back to my place and show me," he says, and winks.
***
Donghae's apartment is only a five-minute walk away, and Hyukjae finds the transit time not nearly adequate for his mental preparation. He hunkers down in the entryway fiddling with his shoelaces, stalling desperately, and watches as Donghae slips out of his worn sandals and begins walking through a tidy kitchen.
"The bedroom's this way," Donghae says, and Hyukjae's fingers falter and his jaw drops as he watches the other man deftly shed his clothes-shirt shucked and discarded by the kitchen sink here, jeans unbuttoned and abandoned by the refrigerator there. By the time he turns around at the bedroom door, he is wearing nothing but a tiny silver cross around his neck and a pair of black boxer briefs. Their eyes meet, and Hyukjae is frozen, cannot respond to the quirk of Donghae's eyebrows, can't move as Donghae walks back across the kitchen towards him. Then Donghae reaches out a hand, and without thinking he takes it, feels lightheaded, as if he's watching himself from somewhere above his head, as he kicks off his shoes in the entryway and stumbles after Donghae through the kitchen.
Donghae stops again at the doorway to the bedroom and turns to him, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth slightly quirked. "You seem a little nervous," he says.
Hyukjae laughs, maybe just a bit too shrilly, and says, "What? No! I'm not nervous!" His voice cracks.
Donghae smiles mischievously and slips a hand under Hyukjae's shirt, ghosting it over his stomach before resting it on his hipbone. Hyukjae nearly jumps out of his skin. "You're shaking," Donghae says, eyes sparkling.
"I'm fine!" Hyukjae squeaks, and the plan was to be calm, sure, suave, but the waves of electricity radiating out from Donghae's hand on his hip are making that plan impossible.
Donghae bites his lip and shakes his head slightly. "You really are cute," he says, and Hyukjae lets out a laugh. It turns into a gasp when Donghae's other hand finds his other hip and both hands begin sliding up his sides, rucking up his shirt and then pulling it up over his head. For a moment he is engulfed in cotton, and then the shirt is up with his arms over his head. Donghae pauses there, and he's close enough that Hyukjae can feel the heat emanating from Donghae's arms, his chest. He feels trapped, thinks his eyes must look like the girl from the café's, excited and scared.
When Donghae kisses him, they close automatically. Donghae's lips are soft. Donghae tastes like coffee. Donghae kisses slowly, fluidly, and Hyukjae's lips move eager and clumsy in response. When the kiss breaks, he opens his eyes and finds Donghae looking searchingly at him. "This is your first time, isn't it?"
Hyukjae feels his mouth go dry. "What are you talking about?" he says, a little too harshly. "Of course not. No, God, I've...I do this all the time." Donghae says nothing, quirks his eyebrows upwards. Hyukjae feels his stomach go into free fall. He sighs. "Ok, fine, yes. I'm a 22-year-old virgin, ok?" He steps back, lowers his arms, still wrapped in his shirt, and folds them in front of his chest. "And I just want to be...not that. I don't want it to be this...thing." This is embarrassing, so embarrassing-he didn't want Donghae to know.
"So for your first time you decided to hook up with some random guy on the internet? Damn," Donghae says, laughing a little, and it sounds ridiculous even to Hyukjae. What was he thinking?
"Listen, if we're not going to," he feels his cheeks reddening, "then maybe I should just go." He pulls his shirt back over his head and turns to walk to the door. Stupid, he was so stupid-
"No, wait," Donghae says, and when Hyukjae doesn't stop he grabs his hand. "Wait. No, we can do this. You just gotta let a guy know if he's gonna be popping your cherry, you know?" Hyukjae is startled enough to look back. Donghae's face is the very picture of bemusement, and Hyukjae blushes again. "I mean, I'm fine with it-it's just nice to have some warning, is all. Do you still want to...?"
Hyukjae pauses for a moment, then nods.
"Ok. Ok. We're gonna do this right, then." Donghae smiles and steps towards him again. "Take off your shirt," he says. As Hyukjae pulls his shirt over his head he feels the button on his jeans being undone, the zipper being drawn down, and then he is down to his boxers, standing in a puddle of his clothes. Donghae takes his hand again and leads him into the bedroom, over to the bed.
"Lie down, facing me," he says, and Hyukjae does as he is told. For a moment they just lie there facing each other, and then Donghae tilts his head forward and they are kissing again. Hyukjae sighs into the kiss, then gasps into it as he feels Donghae's fingers trail down his arm, down his side, over his ass and thigh, burning his skin as they pass and summoning goosebumps in their wake.
Donghae breaks the kiss. "We're gonna take this slow, ok?" he says, and that wasn't the plan-the plan was to fuck, hard and nasty-but Donghae's mouth tastes good, and his hands feel good, and Hyukjae nods. They kiss again and Donghae's hands continue to trail over his body; then, just when his skin feels like it could get no more sensitive, Donghae begins to stroke him lightly through his boxers. He tries not to writhe, but it feels so good, and his hips push into Donghae's strokes of their own accord. Soon he is moaning softly into Donghae's mouth. His own hands reach out to explore Donghae's body, running over hard muscle and soft curves, and then he feels a hand take his, move it down, and he is stroking Donghae's cock through a thin layer of cotton. He is overwhelmed by sensations-the hardness and heat of Donghae's cock, the play of their tongues together, the smooth, even strokes of Donghae's hand-and
And he comes.
Hyukjae comes in his boxers. His eyes fly open in shock, and he sees Donghae's eyes widen, feels his hand pull away. His body twitches on the bed as his orgasm rocks through him, and before the first aftershock hits he is up and off the bed and racing to the bathroom. He slams the door behind him and falls against the counter, shaking as the last wave of pleasure and the first wave of shame hit at once. Everything is wrong. Everything is going wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Hyukjae?" He hears Donghae's voice calling tentatively from outside the door. "Hey, are you ok in there?" He ignores it. "Listen, don't worry about it, it happens..." He pulls a tissue from a box next to the sink, winces as he draws it across the still-sentivie skin of his cock to clean up the mess. When he's cleaned up as best as he can manage, he opens the door and walks out, careful not to make eye contact with Donghae sitting on the bed in front of him.
"I've got to go," he says, walks over to the pile of his clothes and begins pulling on his jeans.
"Hyukjae," Donghae says from the bed, "c'mon, stay, it's no big deal-"
"No, I've got to go," he says curtly. "Thanks." He can feel the tears forming in his eyes as he pulls his shirt over his head and walks towards the door. This had been a huge mistake. He didn't have any idea what he was doing, and he had fucked everything up, looked like a total idiot.
As he's trying to jam his left foot into his right shoe he feels a hand slip into his pocket. Surprised, he turns around. Donghae is standing there, smiling, too kind. "That's my number. If you're going to go now, call me sometime, ok?" Hyukjae is pretty sure he's serious, and it's almost the most embarrassing thing of all. He opens his mouth to say something, realizes if he does he'll cry, then closes it again, nods once, and bolts out the door with his shoes on the wrong feet.
***
He never calls. He keeps the number, though, and pulls it out to look at it sometimes. He looks at it the morning after he actually gets fucked for the first time (the guy isn't careful and he bleeds), the day he quits his programming job to start teaching dance, the afternoon Jungsu, his freeloader live-in boyfriend, tells him that guys had been just a phase and that he's moving in with his new girlfriend, the night he brings home Taemin and eases him through his first time. He pulls out the number, smoothes out the slip of paper it's written on, sometimes even enters the digits into his cell phone. Then he blushes, puts it away again and walks into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
...please? D:
Coffee
pairing: Hyukjae/Donghae
Hyukjae decides on a café in Itaewon for their meeting. He hates coffee, and the American soldiers that frequent the area, all buzz cuts and swagger, make him uneasy, but he thinks his choice sends the right message: that he is mature, sophisticated, and, most important of all, experienced.
He tries not to dwell on the fact that he is in fact none of these things. Instead, he concentrates on keeping his face from scrunching up into a grimace with each sip of espresso, on keeping the fingers of his free hand from tapping agitatedly against the tabletop, on keeping his legs from carrying him straight out of the café and back to the safety of his parents' basement. Instead, he waits and darts nervous glances around the café, looking anywhere but the door. The couple two tables over is sharing an iced coffee; under the table, the man's hand is slipping under the girl's skirt. Hyukjae watches as her eyes flash in fear and pleasure, then turns his attention to the barista behind them. He's cute, with spiky black hair and a generous smile, and given different circumstances Hyukjae is sure he would find his gaze stuck to the man as his made his way through his espresso, but now he is too nervous to take more than a passing interest. He turns his eyes back to the table in front of him and-
Oh. "Um, hi."
There he is, standing right across it. Has he been there for long? How did Hyukjae not notice?
"Hey," the man says warmly, easily-real experience, Hyukjae thinks-and holds out his hand. Hyukjae takes care not to knock over his coffee, or his chair, or the table as he stands up.
"I'm Hyukjae," he says, and the man's grip is firm but not too tight. Hyukjae's stomach flips.
"Donghae," the man says then, "You're even cuter in person." Hyukjae thinks, do people really say things like that? And do people really believe them if they do? and blushes.
"You're...yeah," he says, and blushes more, because Donghae isn't perfect, but he's closer than anyone has any right being. Hyukjae feels like he's fourteen again and by some twist of fate the most popular boy in school has deigned to talk to him.
Donghae smiles. "My place is actually just around the corner from here, so if you want to we can..."
Hyukjae nods, keeps nodding, tries not to let out the hysterical laugh he feels building in his stomach. He wants to, probably more than anything in the world, but just like that? I'm Hyukjae, I'm Donghae, ok let's go?
"Um, yeah, absolutely. Let me just finish my drink..."
Donghae's gaze flits to Hyukjae's cup of espresso. "Oh, right. Sure," he says, and in one fluid movement pulls out the chair on his side of the table and sits back into it, one leg crossed elegantly over the other and eyes lidded.
Hyukjae takes a swig of espresso and somehow manages to swallow it. "So," he says, and he knows he sounds awkward, but the prospect of silence is somehow horrifying, "what do you, um, do?"
Donghae smiles. "I'm a dancer," he says.
Hyukjae imagines him near naked, skin glistening and hair drenched with sweat, head thrown back and hips gyrating to music that's nothing but beats and moans; imagines grubby hands reaching up to slip grubby bills into the waistband of his g-string and lingering lewdly over damp skin. "Like, a...I mean, that kind of dancer?" He realizes what he's said only after he's said it, considers apologizing profusely, instead just prays that a hole will open up beneath him and swallow him into the earth.
Donghae laughs. He has a nice laugh, Hyukjae thinks despite his mortification, full and easy. "Well, yeah, that too," he says. "It helps pay the bills. But I'm trying to break into music videos. I've only been in a few so far, but I feel good about it, you know? Confident."
"Wow," Hyukjae says. "That's really cool." It is. He hopes Donghae won't ask-
"And what do you do?"
He blushes. "I'm a computer programer," he says, and Donghae nods and doesn't look uninterested, but Hyukjae panics and blurts out, "it's funny, though, about the dancing. I just started taking hip-hop classes, actually." What's funny is that he's too embarrassed to tell his family or friends that's he's started taking dance, but he has no problem telling this total stranger who's about to take him back to his place and-
"Oh, really?" Donghae says, leaning forward, eyes sparkling. "Are you any good?"
He thinks about it. "Um, my teacher says I'm pretty good at the wave," he says.
Donghae reaches out, takes the cup of coffee from his hand and downs it in one go. "Well, now that you're done with your drink, maybe you can come back to my place and show me," he says, and winks.
***
Donghae's apartment is only a five-minute walk away, and Hyukjae finds the transit time not nearly adequate for his mental preparation. He hunkers down in the entryway fiddling with his shoelaces, stalling desperately, and watches as Donghae slips out of his worn sandals and begins walking through a tidy kitchen.
"The bedroom's this way," Donghae says, and Hyukjae's fingers falter and his jaw drops as he watches the other man deftly shed his clothes-shirt shucked and discarded by the kitchen sink here, jeans unbuttoned and abandoned by the refrigerator there. By the time he turns around at the bedroom door, he is wearing nothing but a tiny silver cross around his neck and a pair of black boxer briefs. Their eyes meet, and Hyukjae is frozen, cannot respond to the quirk of Donghae's eyebrows, can't move as Donghae walks back across the kitchen towards him. Then Donghae reaches out a hand, and without thinking he takes it, feels lightheaded, as if he's watching himself from somewhere above his head, as he kicks off his shoes in the entryway and stumbles after Donghae through the kitchen.
Donghae stops again at the doorway to the bedroom and turns to him, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth slightly quirked. "You seem a little nervous," he says.
Hyukjae laughs, maybe just a bit too shrilly, and says, "What? No! I'm not nervous!" His voice cracks.
Donghae smiles mischievously and slips a hand under Hyukjae's shirt, ghosting it over his stomach before resting it on his hipbone. Hyukjae nearly jumps out of his skin. "You're shaking," Donghae says, eyes sparkling.
"I'm fine!" Hyukjae squeaks, and the plan was to be calm, sure, suave, but the waves of electricity radiating out from Donghae's hand on his hip are making that plan impossible.
Donghae bites his lip and shakes his head slightly. "You really are cute," he says, and Hyukjae lets out a laugh. It turns into a gasp when Donghae's other hand finds his other hip and both hands begin sliding up his sides, rucking up his shirt and then pulling it up over his head. For a moment he is engulfed in cotton, and then the shirt is up with his arms over his head. Donghae pauses there, and he's close enough that Hyukjae can feel the heat emanating from Donghae's arms, his chest. He feels trapped, thinks his eyes must look like the girl from the café's, excited and scared.
When Donghae kisses him, they close automatically. Donghae's lips are soft. Donghae tastes like coffee. Donghae kisses slowly, fluidly, and Hyukjae's lips move eager and clumsy in response. When the kiss breaks, he opens his eyes and finds Donghae looking searchingly at him. "This is your first time, isn't it?"
Hyukjae feels his mouth go dry. "What are you talking about?" he says, a little too harshly. "Of course not. No, God, I've...I do this all the time." Donghae says nothing, quirks his eyebrows upwards. Hyukjae feels his stomach go into free fall. He sighs. "Ok, fine, yes. I'm a 22-year-old virgin, ok?" He steps back, lowers his arms, still wrapped in his shirt, and folds them in front of his chest. "And I just want to be...not that. I don't want it to be this...thing." This is embarrassing, so embarrassing-he didn't want Donghae to know.
"So for your first time you decided to hook up with some random guy on the internet? Damn," Donghae says, laughing a little, and it sounds ridiculous even to Hyukjae. What was he thinking?
"Listen, if we're not going to," he feels his cheeks reddening, "then maybe I should just go." He pulls his shirt back over his head and turns to walk to the door. Stupid, he was so stupid-
"No, wait," Donghae says, and when Hyukjae doesn't stop he grabs his hand. "Wait. No, we can do this. You just gotta let a guy know if he's gonna be popping your cherry, you know?" Hyukjae is startled enough to look back. Donghae's face is the very picture of bemusement, and Hyukjae blushes again. "I mean, I'm fine with it-it's just nice to have some warning, is all. Do you still want to...?"
Hyukjae pauses for a moment, then nods.
"Ok. Ok. We're gonna do this right, then." Donghae smiles and steps towards him again. "Take off your shirt," he says. As Hyukjae pulls his shirt over his head he feels the button on his jeans being undone, the zipper being drawn down, and then he is down to his boxers, standing in a puddle of his clothes. Donghae takes his hand again and leads him into the bedroom, over to the bed.
"Lie down, facing me," he says, and Hyukjae does as he is told. For a moment they just lie there facing each other, and then Donghae tilts his head forward and they are kissing again. Hyukjae sighs into the kiss, then gasps into it as he feels Donghae's fingers trail down his arm, down his side, over his ass and thigh, burning his skin as they pass and summoning goosebumps in their wake.
Donghae breaks the kiss. "We're gonna take this slow, ok?" he says, and that wasn't the plan-the plan was to fuck, hard and nasty-but Donghae's mouth tastes good, and his hands feel good, and Hyukjae nods. They kiss again and Donghae's hands continue to trail over his body; then, just when his skin feels like it could get no more sensitive, Donghae begins to stroke him lightly through his boxers. He tries not to writhe, but it feels so good, and his hips push into Donghae's strokes of their own accord. Soon he is moaning softly into Donghae's mouth. His own hands reach out to explore Donghae's body, running over hard muscle and soft curves, and then he feels a hand take his, move it down, and he is stroking Donghae's cock through a thin layer of cotton. He is overwhelmed by sensations-the hardness and heat of Donghae's cock, the play of their tongues together, the smooth, even strokes of Donghae's hand-and
And he comes.
Hyukjae comes in his boxers. His eyes fly open in shock, and he sees Donghae's eyes widen, feels his hand pull away. His body twitches on the bed as his orgasm rocks through him, and before the first aftershock hits he is up and off the bed and racing to the bathroom. He slams the door behind him and falls against the counter, shaking as the last wave of pleasure and the first wave of shame hit at once. Everything is wrong. Everything is going wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Hyukjae?" He hears Donghae's voice calling tentatively from outside the door. "Hey, are you ok in there?" He ignores it. "Listen, don't worry about it, it happens..." He pulls a tissue from a box next to the sink, winces as he draws it across the still-sentivie skin of his cock to clean up the mess. When he's cleaned up as best as he can manage, he opens the door and walks out, careful not to make eye contact with Donghae sitting on the bed in front of him.
"I've got to go," he says, walks over to the pile of his clothes and begins pulling on his jeans.
"Hyukjae," Donghae says from the bed, "c'mon, stay, it's no big deal-"
"No, I've got to go," he says curtly. "Thanks." He can feel the tears forming in his eyes as he pulls his shirt over his head and walks towards the door. This had been a huge mistake. He didn't have any idea what he was doing, and he had fucked everything up, looked like a total idiot.
As he's trying to jam his left foot into his right shoe he feels a hand slip into his pocket. Surprised, he turns around. Donghae is standing there, smiling, too kind. "That's my number. If you're going to go now, call me sometime, ok?" Hyukjae is pretty sure he's serious, and it's almost the most embarrassing thing of all. He opens his mouth to say something, realizes if he does he'll cry, then closes it again, nods once, and bolts out the door with his shoes on the wrong feet.
***
He never calls. He keeps the number, though, and pulls it out to look at it sometimes. He looks at it the morning after he actually gets fucked for the first time (the guy isn't careful and he bleeds), the day he quits his programming job to start teaching dance, the afternoon Jungsu, his freeloader live-in boyfriend, tells him that guys had been just a phase and that he's moving in with his new girlfriend, the night he brings home Taemin and eases him through his first time. He pulls out the number, smoothes out the slip of paper it's written on, sometimes even enters the digits into his cell phone. Then he blushes, puts it away again and walks into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.