jeogi
in
openpockets
(no subject)
the game
jinki/taemin, smut, etc, whatever
sighhh, goes the echo of a girl plummeting back into her fandom again. mentions of some drug use because sherlock holmes used cocaine! yes indeed he did. i tried adding in streaks of jinki and taemin (i'll be honest i can't find it hard to imagine jinki like this) to the characters, but they are predominantly supposed to fill the roles of holmes/watson soooo....worst crossover ever lmfao.
it smells vaguely of grass.
and taemin wakes up slowly from his sleep, thinking to himself, not again. because this is the fifth time this month, and so far he's yet to come up with a way to conjure up unsolvable crimes just for his infuriating partner. friend. accomplice. lover? flatmate.
taemin throws the covers off, purposefully stomps his feet onto the wooden ground to see if maybe the torturous grating downstairs will stop. they don't. with a groan taemin put on his slippers and pads his way into the living room where jinki is lying on the couch with his legs spread out, falling over the couch and coffee table, strad in his hand. no, taemin thinks to himself, this won't do.
"it's three ten," taemin tries to point out. a glazed look examines him from head to toe, though really, there's nothing much left to deduce (induce, taemin thinks) anymore about him. you already know me in and out, he adds bitterly. "this is atypical and also disturbing behavior, two strikes away from being labeled insane."
"labels," jinki drawls, "useless. blueberry and strawberry jam, salt or cocaine, what difference does it make?"
taemin shakes his head. "nope. no, i'm not dealing with this right now, you are going to come up with me right now and get some sleep."
"sleep is for the weak! come on, lie with me. i'm lonely."
he feels his face twist, probably pretty ugly from the angle jinki's look at him from. he clamps his lips shut, stays his spot, until jinki starts fidgeting and moans, "okay, okay! goodness, please just stop pouting like that, it's ruining my mood."
"i told you," he murmurs to no one in particular, because jinki technically isn't there with him. he's far off, dancing with the woman in some romantic tango that he'll never intercept. he watches jinki stumble to his feet and place the stradevarius on the table, on top of the teetering pile of cold cases that never stop to give him the chills. taemin still wonders if it had been a good thing to take an accidental right onto jinki's street, and when the blood-red eyes look his way again, the sinking feeling in his stomach is suddenly tenfold heavier. he doesn't want to deal with this again.
they silently make their way to jinki's bedroom, somewhat tidy for once, and jinki throws himself into the covers, wraps his limbs around the soft down. taemin stands in the doorway. "stay with me," jinki sighs, though taemin doesn't know if it's directed towards him, "please."
"good night," he tries, but jinki is far off again in sleep. taemin rolls his eyes and in ten seconds he doesn't remember passing by, finds himself in his own bed.
it's barely been thirty minutes (hours? days? years? when will he ever sleep?) before taemin feels a dip in his bed and warm hands against his back. taemin startles awake and breathes in quickly at the sight of a somewhat more conscious jinki doubled over him, eyes flickering left and right up down, carefully examining. oh, taemin thinks, please just don't look-
"you're hard," jinki says matter-of-factly, and then his eyebrows scrunch in a characteristic way of his. taemin wishes he could smooth them out with his tongue. "and you're mad. why?"
"i'm not the mad one," he finds himself snapping back, crossing his legs and shimmying further up the bed to avoid jinki's gaze. "you're the one using marijuana at three in the morning. are you that bored?"
jinki looks pensive for a moment. and then he says, "yes." at taemin's aghast face, he quickly adds, "but only a little, i was simply out of it because i was thinking."
"when are you never?" taemin gets one of those patronizing looks in return, but he means it. "you were doing so well."
"it's because i'm bored, and when i'm bored, i get upset." the sudden outburst has both of them shocked still in their spots, wrapped up in their respective blankets. "i get up with myself and with the world, and it's a horrible feeling." at this, jinki suddenly drops his eyes, wearing a frown that reminds taemin of jinki from when he was five years old (not that he'd been around for then, but somehow, he thinks he sees a bit of jinki from every timeline in history every day). "but i'm not bored anymore. minho called with a case. i'm just barely through figuring it out, and i needn't step out or even your help for this one."
the comment hits him in the corner of his heart but taemin disregards it. "i'm glad you're not bored anymore," and then he goes off into his thoughts, reminiscing those days where, when he was bored, he'd just read a comic book or rub one off to porn, not shoot up a wall or arrest criminals with his right thumb. taemin sighs. "anyway, i need sleep, so if you will."
jinki looks conflicted, like when he does when he can't really decide whether the dent in a man's cranium was from a swinging bludgeon or the back of a door. "you're still hard."
taemin squeezes his eyes shut. "please go away."
"no." jinki's eyes brighten and suddenly he looks like a normal man. a normal, beautiful, intelligent man who is a part of the world. "let me touch you."
oh lord, "and that is the cannibis talking. just go back to your work." and then delete this all from your great brain, taemin bemoans. but the tight grip on his waist says otherwise, like jinki is absorbing this memory through his fingertips. taemin buries his face into his pillow, a little habit he's picked up whenever jinki gets to be too much.
and the insistent pressure against his side, into his thigh, and now against the nape of his neck really is too much, but taemin can't save himself from moaning quietly into the flat which is, for once, thank the lord, quiet. please, he tries again, but this time jinki's lips are against his and molding softly around the cracking frown he wears. there is urgency in the hum and thrum of his kiss, urgency in his deep breaths, urgency in the pounding heartbeat he feels through their shirts. where's the fire? burning in this man's brilliant mind. taemin suddenly feels the need to kill it.
"oh, yes, there." the touch is tender and commanding and taemin presses his body against jinki's, feeling their hardness pressed between their stomachs. he shudders, because this is the most intimate he'll ever be, the closest he could ever be to a man like jinki. the man who has algorithms hopping through his mind like white sheep, the imagination and cleverness of a million picassos put together into one. taemin thrusts forward, drinks in the moans tumbling from jinki's slack jaw.
taemin suddenly finds himself on his back, legs hooked over jinki's wide shoulders as the man presses into him with embarrassing ease. he keeps his eyes open, watches jinki lose himself in a frenzy of deep thrusts, and fuck, he sighs. there's no way he can win.
"so wonderful," taemin hears jinki murmur against his ear, hot and burning. "you are so wonderful, i cannot thank you enough."
slowly taemin opens his eyes and concentrates on the ceiling above him. for what? he wonders. instead he holds tightly to jinki's arms and breathes out shakily with every rock against his body. he cherishes these intimate moments with jinki despite himself, despite the inevitable separation at the end as jinki gets up to work on the cases he loves more than anything else.
"ah, taemin, taemin." taemin looks up at the brilliantly sad eyes shining under droplets of sweat, the satisfied smile that he fits his own lips against. at least he understands this man's basic language.
when taemin wakes for what seems like the tenth time that night, jinki is lying beside him, soft hair tickling his neck as the man grumbles in his sleep. "if sister has cans of beans, arrest her." deducing even in his sleep. taemin turns his head and kisses jinki on top of his head, and watches his partner (lover, detective, friend. best friend), the soft curve of his babyish cheeks underneath the haze of bad decisions and improbable risks. he sighs.
"don't move," a low voice rumbles into his pillow, and taemin almost gives a shout. "you're very warm."
good enough, he thinks, before falling asleep at the twenty third sheep.
errr....sorry
jinki/taemin, smut, etc, whatever
sighhh, goes the echo of a girl plummeting back into her fandom again. mentions of some drug use because sherlock holmes used cocaine! yes indeed he did. i tried adding in streaks of jinki and taemin (i'll be honest i can't find it hard to imagine jinki like this) to the characters, but they are predominantly supposed to fill the roles of holmes/watson soooo....worst crossover ever lmfao.
it smells vaguely of grass.
and taemin wakes up slowly from his sleep, thinking to himself, not again. because this is the fifth time this month, and so far he's yet to come up with a way to conjure up unsolvable crimes just for his infuriating partner. friend. accomplice. lover? flatmate.
taemin throws the covers off, purposefully stomps his feet onto the wooden ground to see if maybe the torturous grating downstairs will stop. they don't. with a groan taemin put on his slippers and pads his way into the living room where jinki is lying on the couch with his legs spread out, falling over the couch and coffee table, strad in his hand. no, taemin thinks to himself, this won't do.
"it's three ten," taemin tries to point out. a glazed look examines him from head to toe, though really, there's nothing much left to deduce (induce, taemin thinks) anymore about him. you already know me in and out, he adds bitterly. "this is atypical and also disturbing behavior, two strikes away from being labeled insane."
"labels," jinki drawls, "useless. blueberry and strawberry jam, salt or cocaine, what difference does it make?"
taemin shakes his head. "nope. no, i'm not dealing with this right now, you are going to come up with me right now and get some sleep."
"sleep is for the weak! come on, lie with me. i'm lonely."
he feels his face twist, probably pretty ugly from the angle jinki's look at him from. he clamps his lips shut, stays his spot, until jinki starts fidgeting and moans, "okay, okay! goodness, please just stop pouting like that, it's ruining my mood."
"i told you," he murmurs to no one in particular, because jinki technically isn't there with him. he's far off, dancing with the woman in some romantic tango that he'll never intercept. he watches jinki stumble to his feet and place the stradevarius on the table, on top of the teetering pile of cold cases that never stop to give him the chills. taemin still wonders if it had been a good thing to take an accidental right onto jinki's street, and when the blood-red eyes look his way again, the sinking feeling in his stomach is suddenly tenfold heavier. he doesn't want to deal with this again.
they silently make their way to jinki's bedroom, somewhat tidy for once, and jinki throws himself into the covers, wraps his limbs around the soft down. taemin stands in the doorway. "stay with me," jinki sighs, though taemin doesn't know if it's directed towards him, "please."
"good night," he tries, but jinki is far off again in sleep. taemin rolls his eyes and in ten seconds he doesn't remember passing by, finds himself in his own bed.
it's barely been thirty minutes (hours? days? years? when will he ever sleep?) before taemin feels a dip in his bed and warm hands against his back. taemin startles awake and breathes in quickly at the sight of a somewhat more conscious jinki doubled over him, eyes flickering left and right up down, carefully examining. oh, taemin thinks, please just don't look-
"you're hard," jinki says matter-of-factly, and then his eyebrows scrunch in a characteristic way of his. taemin wishes he could smooth them out with his tongue. "and you're mad. why?"
"i'm not the mad one," he finds himself snapping back, crossing his legs and shimmying further up the bed to avoid jinki's gaze. "you're the one using marijuana at three in the morning. are you that bored?"
jinki looks pensive for a moment. and then he says, "yes." at taemin's aghast face, he quickly adds, "but only a little, i was simply out of it because i was thinking."
"when are you never?" taemin gets one of those patronizing looks in return, but he means it. "you were doing so well."
"it's because i'm bored, and when i'm bored, i get upset." the sudden outburst has both of them shocked still in their spots, wrapped up in their respective blankets. "i get up with myself and with the world, and it's a horrible feeling." at this, jinki suddenly drops his eyes, wearing a frown that reminds taemin of jinki from when he was five years old (not that he'd been around for then, but somehow, he thinks he sees a bit of jinki from every timeline in history every day). "but i'm not bored anymore. minho called with a case. i'm just barely through figuring it out, and i needn't step out or even your help for this one."
the comment hits him in the corner of his heart but taemin disregards it. "i'm glad you're not bored anymore," and then he goes off into his thoughts, reminiscing those days where, when he was bored, he'd just read a comic book or rub one off to porn, not shoot up a wall or arrest criminals with his right thumb. taemin sighs. "anyway, i need sleep, so if you will."
jinki looks conflicted, like when he does when he can't really decide whether the dent in a man's cranium was from a swinging bludgeon or the back of a door. "you're still hard."
taemin squeezes his eyes shut. "please go away."
"no." jinki's eyes brighten and suddenly he looks like a normal man. a normal, beautiful, intelligent man who is a part of the world. "let me touch you."
oh lord, "and that is the cannibis talking. just go back to your work." and then delete this all from your great brain, taemin bemoans. but the tight grip on his waist says otherwise, like jinki is absorbing this memory through his fingertips. taemin buries his face into his pillow, a little habit he's picked up whenever jinki gets to be too much.
and the insistent pressure against his side, into his thigh, and now against the nape of his neck really is too much, but taemin can't save himself from moaning quietly into the flat which is, for once, thank the lord, quiet. please, he tries again, but this time jinki's lips are against his and molding softly around the cracking frown he wears. there is urgency in the hum and thrum of his kiss, urgency in his deep breaths, urgency in the pounding heartbeat he feels through their shirts. where's the fire? burning in this man's brilliant mind. taemin suddenly feels the need to kill it.
"oh, yes, there." the touch is tender and commanding and taemin presses his body against jinki's, feeling their hardness pressed between their stomachs. he shudders, because this is the most intimate he'll ever be, the closest he could ever be to a man like jinki. the man who has algorithms hopping through his mind like white sheep, the imagination and cleverness of a million picassos put together into one. taemin thrusts forward, drinks in the moans tumbling from jinki's slack jaw.
taemin suddenly finds himself on his back, legs hooked over jinki's wide shoulders as the man presses into him with embarrassing ease. he keeps his eyes open, watches jinki lose himself in a frenzy of deep thrusts, and fuck, he sighs. there's no way he can win.
"so wonderful," taemin hears jinki murmur against his ear, hot and burning. "you are so wonderful, i cannot thank you enough."
slowly taemin opens his eyes and concentrates on the ceiling above him. for what? he wonders. instead he holds tightly to jinki's arms and breathes out shakily with every rock against his body. he cherishes these intimate moments with jinki despite himself, despite the inevitable separation at the end as jinki gets up to work on the cases he loves more than anything else.
"ah, taemin, taemin." taemin looks up at the brilliantly sad eyes shining under droplets of sweat, the satisfied smile that he fits his own lips against. at least he understands this man's basic language.
when taemin wakes for what seems like the tenth time that night, jinki is lying beside him, soft hair tickling his neck as the man grumbles in his sleep. "if sister has cans of beans, arrest her." deducing even in his sleep. taemin turns his head and kisses jinki on top of his head, and watches his partner (lover, detective, friend. best friend), the soft curve of his babyish cheeks underneath the haze of bad decisions and improbable risks. he sighs.
"don't move," a low voice rumbles into his pillow, and taemin almost gives a shout. "you're very warm."
good enough, he thinks, before falling asleep at the twenty third sheep.
errr....sorry