[fic] Long Enough
Title: Long Enough
Author:
helzfyah
Rating: PG-13 for boy kissing. And some moaning.
Genre: hmm... not fluff, crack or angst really. Kind of like romance on a rainy day.
Pairing: Heechul/? (It’s either horella or jaychul - I couldn’t choose so you get to decide =P)
A/N: started this a while ago, just after the creation of Suju T, before life intervened. Finally found the muse to finish it. 863 words. Second person POV. Concrit welcome (have at it, if you please).
---
You push the door open slowly, mindful of the squeaky hinge. Heechul is in bed, sprawled loosely across the covers. He has his favourite glasses on - the white frames he wore for his last photoshoot and begged the stylist to let him keep (with his best smile and sauciest wink) - while he shifts slowly through a thick sheaf of papers.
“What’ve you got there?”
“A manuscript for a new drama they want to cast me in,” he says smoothly without looking up. “They want me to play the bitchy, selfish best friend who is convinced he’s the best thing to ever happen to this planet. I’m not sure whether to laugh or be offended.”
Heechul puts the manuscript back together, placing it haphazardly at the end of the table, then turns to you, one eyebrow raised. "What the hell are you doing here?”
You enter the room fully, closing the door firmly behind you. You slide into the bed next to Heechul, lying on your side and looking down at the boy sprawled out next to you.
“Our studio session was cancelled for tonight,” you say, slowly pulling off Heechul’s glasses and folding them carefully. You reach above your head, placing the glasses on the small ledge running above the bed. “So, I snuck out.”
Heechul snorts. “You snuck out of Japan?” He rolls his eyes at you, sliding closer and throwing his leg over yours.
You nod. “Don’t I get a kiss for my trouble?” Heechul purses his lips, mocking you with his thinking face.
“That depends,” he answers, flashing a brilliant smile. “Did you bring me anything?”
You laugh lightly in his ear. “There’s nothing that’s pretty, pink and frivolous enough for you in Japan.” Heechul looks distinctly put out. “But you do get me.”
Heechul slides his hand slowly up your arm, tracing a path along your bicep and under your shirt sleeve, to curl around your shoulder and push you onto your back. He climbs fluidly into your lap and pulls you up by your tie (red and half-undone around your neck) until your back is pressed against the wall. His fingers trail down your chest and curl into your shirt, popping the buttons open slowly.
“I guess you approve?” you say, lacing your fingers together at the small of his back.
He smirks at you, sliding the shirt off your body before tossing it carelessly to the floor behind him. “You’ll do,” he says, his lips hovering just above your own mouth, fingertips pressing into your arms.
You tilt your head up slightly, bridging the gap and pressing your lips together. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, deep and rumbling like a satisfied kitten. You stifle a laugh against his lips when you hear it, and he bites you in retaliation, his teeth sinking down into your lower lip.
You flip your positions, pressing him into the bed below you. His head drops heavily to the sheets beneath him, his hair (short and beautifully red, like you’ve never seen it before) fanning out from his face, his eyes closed and mouth open.
He licks his lips and you watch, almost entranced, as his tongue traces a path along his lower lip. His eyes open, staring at you when you move up his body, your hips settling comfortably against his own.
“How long can you stay?” he asks, quietly. His fingers find the hair at the base of your neck, tangling in the strands.
“Long enough,” you answer. He nods, reaching up to kiss you again.
***
You slide Heechul’s borrowed brush through your hair one more time before you leave the bathroom. He is perched at the end of the bed, his eyes still heavy with sleep and clutching the shirt you arrived in closed over his chest.
“Leaving already?” he asks. You nod, picking up the bag you dropped near the door and slinging it over your shoulder.
He stands, moving over to the window and placing his cheek against the glass, head tilted back in the half light of the early, early morning. He slants a glance at you when you come up behind him and wrap an arm around his waist.
“I hate this too,” you say, your breath ruffling his hair where it curls against his ear. You place soft kisses (like butterfly wings brushing the petals of a flower as it flits past) into the back of the neck, arm tightening reflexively when he places his fingers over yours. He spins around suddenly, the usual smile stretching his lips upwards. He reaches around you, plucking a pair of aviator shades from the dresser against the wall and placing them on your face.
“There,” he says, his usual smirk back in place. “Now you’re ready to go be a rockstar.”
You smile back, letting him slide past what he never wants to talk about. You drop a final kiss lightly to his lips before turning to go. His voice stops you in the doorway.
“Don’t forget to come back.” He says. “Those are Hannie’s shades.”
You leave, a smile on your lips and his laughter in your ears.
---
END.
Notes again - whew. one less story in the fic graveyard. The hardest part about picking this story back up after such a long while was trying to remember who the 'you' was. That, and fixing all the 'he's that were running rampant throughout the beginning. If I missed one, do tell.
Author:
helzfyah
Rating: PG-13 for boy kissing. And some moaning.
Genre: hmm... not fluff, crack or angst really. Kind of like romance on a rainy day.
Pairing: Heechul/? (It’s either horella or jaychul - I couldn’t choose so you get to decide =P)
A/N: started this a while ago, just after the creation of Suju T, before life intervened. Finally found the muse to finish it. 863 words. Second person POV. Concrit welcome (have at it, if you please).
---
You push the door open slowly, mindful of the squeaky hinge. Heechul is in bed, sprawled loosely across the covers. He has his favourite glasses on - the white frames he wore for his last photoshoot and begged the stylist to let him keep (with his best smile and sauciest wink) - while he shifts slowly through a thick sheaf of papers.
“What’ve you got there?”
“A manuscript for a new drama they want to cast me in,” he says smoothly without looking up. “They want me to play the bitchy, selfish best friend who is convinced he’s the best thing to ever happen to this planet. I’m not sure whether to laugh or be offended.”
Heechul puts the manuscript back together, placing it haphazardly at the end of the table, then turns to you, one eyebrow raised. "What the hell are you doing here?”
You enter the room fully, closing the door firmly behind you. You slide into the bed next to Heechul, lying on your side and looking down at the boy sprawled out next to you.
“Our studio session was cancelled for tonight,” you say, slowly pulling off Heechul’s glasses and folding them carefully. You reach above your head, placing the glasses on the small ledge running above the bed. “So, I snuck out.”
Heechul snorts. “You snuck out of Japan?” He rolls his eyes at you, sliding closer and throwing his leg over yours.
You nod. “Don’t I get a kiss for my trouble?” Heechul purses his lips, mocking you with his thinking face.
“That depends,” he answers, flashing a brilliant smile. “Did you bring me anything?”
You laugh lightly in his ear. “There’s nothing that’s pretty, pink and frivolous enough for you in Japan.” Heechul looks distinctly put out. “But you do get me.”
Heechul slides his hand slowly up your arm, tracing a path along your bicep and under your shirt sleeve, to curl around your shoulder and push you onto your back. He climbs fluidly into your lap and pulls you up by your tie (red and half-undone around your neck) until your back is pressed against the wall. His fingers trail down your chest and curl into your shirt, popping the buttons open slowly.
“I guess you approve?” you say, lacing your fingers together at the small of his back.
He smirks at you, sliding the shirt off your body before tossing it carelessly to the floor behind him. “You’ll do,” he says, his lips hovering just above your own mouth, fingertips pressing into your arms.
You tilt your head up slightly, bridging the gap and pressing your lips together. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, deep and rumbling like a satisfied kitten. You stifle a laugh against his lips when you hear it, and he bites you in retaliation, his teeth sinking down into your lower lip.
You flip your positions, pressing him into the bed below you. His head drops heavily to the sheets beneath him, his hair (short and beautifully red, like you’ve never seen it before) fanning out from his face, his eyes closed and mouth open.
He licks his lips and you watch, almost entranced, as his tongue traces a path along his lower lip. His eyes open, staring at you when you move up his body, your hips settling comfortably against his own.
“How long can you stay?” he asks, quietly. His fingers find the hair at the base of your neck, tangling in the strands.
“Long enough,” you answer. He nods, reaching up to kiss you again.
***
You slide Heechul’s borrowed brush through your hair one more time before you leave the bathroom. He is perched at the end of the bed, his eyes still heavy with sleep and clutching the shirt you arrived in closed over his chest.
“Leaving already?” he asks. You nod, picking up the bag you dropped near the door and slinging it over your shoulder.
He stands, moving over to the window and placing his cheek against the glass, head tilted back in the half light of the early, early morning. He slants a glance at you when you come up behind him and wrap an arm around his waist.
“I hate this too,” you say, your breath ruffling his hair where it curls against his ear. You place soft kisses (like butterfly wings brushing the petals of a flower as it flits past) into the back of the neck, arm tightening reflexively when he places his fingers over yours. He spins around suddenly, the usual smile stretching his lips upwards. He reaches around you, plucking a pair of aviator shades from the dresser against the wall and placing them on your face.
“There,” he says, his usual smirk back in place. “Now you’re ready to go be a rockstar.”
You smile back, letting him slide past what he never wants to talk about. You drop a final kiss lightly to his lips before turning to go. His voice stops you in the doorway.
“Don’t forget to come back.” He says. “Those are Hannie’s shades.”
You leave, a smile on your lips and his laughter in your ears.
---
END.
Notes again - whew. one less story in the fic graveyard. The hardest part about picking this story back up after such a long while was trying to remember who the 'you' was. That, and fixing all the 'he's that were running rampant throughout the beginning. If I missed one, do tell.