A "deleted scene" from my NaN- oh hell from the novel being written currently at the moment lol
(Deleted scene from "After Sunset)
Title: A Morning Scene
Rating R
Pairing: Suk-chul/Song-yi (M/F)
Word Count: 718
Summary: From Song-yi's POV, a morning when she's allowed to have Suk-chul to herself for a little while before they're both sucked into the insanity that makes up their days.
A/N: This was a little drabble I wrote before I started in with the actual text of the novel, as a way to get inside Song-yi's head. It's just a sappy little morning tableaux, but I think it explains a lot about them both.
Suk-chul's hair falls in his eyes as he sleeps, innocent in slumber in ways he never is awake, perhaps in ways he never was allowed to be. We don't talk of our childhoods, no one really does, so I have no idea how early the Fallen took him to their ranks. Was he as young as Minki was when I started dressing her in my cast-off clothing, to protect him from gangs like the one run by Chullie and his family? I reach across the bed and brush back his hair, faint lines on his cheeks and one longer, bolder one across his forehead: our scars are another thing we don't discuss.
He stirs and I reach below the blanket to find his hand where it rests on my hip, bringing it to my lips to press kisses into the calloused pads. Only in the semi-darkness of early morning are we gentle, when wakefullness has yet to claim us fully and when we both try so hard to hang on to sleep. He nuzzles against my chest and his yawning breaths tickle with their warmth. He would glare at me if I called him sweet - we don't do endearments except in anger. His fear of attachment, of love, of loss, is falling apart with every kiss, although sometimes I feel like I'm taking it from him and keeping it myself.
"Yiyi," he murmurs over my skin, mouthing at my breast, still asleep enough for pet names. My mouth pauses against one fingertip and I suck it in, curling my tongue around it. I know he will wake up at this and I can't bear any more softness today. He lifts his head quickly, looking at me through eyes lidded with a combination of desire and the last dustings of night. I'm pushed back against the bed and the thin pillow flattens further. He doesn't speak as his teeth comb my neck, marking sharply his ownership. I'll be punished for it later, his brother will take it out of my tips, at the very least. Every reddening sting is worth it.
As my hand closes around him I press my mouth to his. He is so loud, no matter what he's doing, loud and brash and so /present/ in everything, and Minki is asleep in the tiny room I've made for her out of the pantry closet. Chullie's eyes narrow both from the pleasure and annoyance and I can't hold back a smile as I slide down his body and lick at his tip. His moan is too desperate, too hungry, and I shush him. He'll ignore it, he always does. He's deep inside my mouth when he cums, the hand not tangled in the pinkness of my hair making a fist between his teeth.
Chullie is nineteen, a fact we both forget sometimes with the weight of maturity forced on him, and he's hard for me again before he can lick me to completion. I drag him up by his shoulders and taste myself on his lips as he fills me, anchoring us to the other-ness of each other's bodies. Lost, for those few seconds, from all that makes up our world and exisiting only within this space we share.
He leaves as I bathe myself with a damp cloth tucked behind the screen in the corner. I don't see him go. We have no goodbyes, no farewell kisses. Minki is up and scooting around with a giant spoon in one hand and a pot in the other, humming under her breath. She thinks Chullie is just another boy that I have to sleep with now and then, and she can't know the truth. I know I couldn't keep my emotions from blinding Suk-chul to the dangers he faces, and allowing Minki to see those depths is a guilt I can't handle.
So he leaves, and I dress myself in what my costume is for today, thin leather bands wrapped around my skin, hiding nothing while giving me the pretense of modesty, and a simple dress over it. Minki smiles, lighting up the kitchen as we eat, but my thoughts stray in his footsteps, shadow-like. Fourteen hours, if I'm lucky and have only him to bed, and the day will be over.
Title: A Morning Scene
Rating R
Pairing: Suk-chul/Song-yi (M/F)
Word Count: 718
Summary: From Song-yi's POV, a morning when she's allowed to have Suk-chul to herself for a little while before they're both sucked into the insanity that makes up their days.
A/N: This was a little drabble I wrote before I started in with the actual text of the novel, as a way to get inside Song-yi's head. It's just a sappy little morning tableaux, but I think it explains a lot about them both.
Suk-chul's hair falls in his eyes as he sleeps, innocent in slumber in ways he never is awake, perhaps in ways he never was allowed to be. We don't talk of our childhoods, no one really does, so I have no idea how early the Fallen took him to their ranks. Was he as young as Minki was when I started dressing her in my cast-off clothing, to protect him from gangs like the one run by Chullie and his family? I reach across the bed and brush back his hair, faint lines on his cheeks and one longer, bolder one across his forehead: our scars are another thing we don't discuss.
He stirs and I reach below the blanket to find his hand where it rests on my hip, bringing it to my lips to press kisses into the calloused pads. Only in the semi-darkness of early morning are we gentle, when wakefullness has yet to claim us fully and when we both try so hard to hang on to sleep. He nuzzles against my chest and his yawning breaths tickle with their warmth. He would glare at me if I called him sweet - we don't do endearments except in anger. His fear of attachment, of love, of loss, is falling apart with every kiss, although sometimes I feel like I'm taking it from him and keeping it myself.
"Yiyi," he murmurs over my skin, mouthing at my breast, still asleep enough for pet names. My mouth pauses against one fingertip and I suck it in, curling my tongue around it. I know he will wake up at this and I can't bear any more softness today. He lifts his head quickly, looking at me through eyes lidded with a combination of desire and the last dustings of night. I'm pushed back against the bed and the thin pillow flattens further. He doesn't speak as his teeth comb my neck, marking sharply his ownership. I'll be punished for it later, his brother will take it out of my tips, at the very least. Every reddening sting is worth it.
As my hand closes around him I press my mouth to his. He is so loud, no matter what he's doing, loud and brash and so /present/ in everything, and Minki is asleep in the tiny room I've made for her out of the pantry closet. Chullie's eyes narrow both from the pleasure and annoyance and I can't hold back a smile as I slide down his body and lick at his tip. His moan is too desperate, too hungry, and I shush him. He'll ignore it, he always does. He's deep inside my mouth when he cums, the hand not tangled in the pinkness of my hair making a fist between his teeth.
Chullie is nineteen, a fact we both forget sometimes with the weight of maturity forced on him, and he's hard for me again before he can lick me to completion. I drag him up by his shoulders and taste myself on his lips as he fills me, anchoring us to the other-ness of each other's bodies. Lost, for those few seconds, from all that makes up our world and exisiting only within this space we share.
He leaves as I bathe myself with a damp cloth tucked behind the screen in the corner. I don't see him go. We have no goodbyes, no farewell kisses. Minki is up and scooting around with a giant spoon in one hand and a pot in the other, humming under her breath. She thinks Chullie is just another boy that I have to sleep with now and then, and she can't know the truth. I know I couldn't keep my emotions from blinding Suk-chul to the dangers he faces, and allowing Minki to see those depths is a guilt I can't handle.
So he leaves, and I dress myself in what my costume is for today, thin leather bands wrapped around my skin, hiding nothing while giving me the pretense of modesty, and a simple dress over it. Minki smiles, lighting up the kitchen as we eat, but my thoughts stray in his footsteps, shadow-like. Fourteen hours, if I'm lucky and have only him to bed, and the day will be over.