Untitled [Kuyhyun/Zhoumi]
Untitled
by: quixotic_notes
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Zhoumi
Rating: Soft R [implied sex]
Summary: He hunched his shoulders and sighed, reaching out for the dark blue jeans that flattered his endless legs instead.
:::
He tugged on his skirt.
It was pink and lacy and delicate and so so pretty. The loose blouse didn’t stray far off from the innocent motif that seemed to come inherently with the skirt, betrayed only by the way it didn’t quite cover his thighs.
He looked to the mirror, and saw a tall lanky man, shoulders too broad, legs too long, face too sharp, and stopped looking.
The feminine lace and pretty little details of the skirt taunted him. What should’ve been so obvious, unquestionable, failed in his delusional dreams.
He hunched his shoulders and sighed, reaching out for the dark blue jeans that flattered his endless legs instead.
:::
Girls were pretty.
He liked looking at girls. He liked looking at their pretty clothes, their small frames, their cute faces.
He liked sleeping with girls, angling his body attractively, liked the way how his bright white smile contrasted his dark endless eyes seductively.
He had never questioned his gender, never thought about dresses and skirts and pink dolls.
He wasn’t sure when he thought about them, but by the time he realized how far he had strayed away, all he could only see the point of no return laughing at his back cruelly..
:::
Honestly, Kyuhyun wasn’t anything special. In the crowd of pretty plastic faces and auto-tuned voices, he shouldn’t have stood out.
Even when Super Junior M was first formed, he didn’t stand out, because Han Geng was Chinese and Henry was from Canada and who could compete with that?
It wasn’t until he chanced upon Kyuhyun’s singing practice that he truly noticed him, noticed the way his face would turn slightly awkward at a particularly hard note, before relaxing into an easier more comfortable range, the way his hands seemed at a lost, grabbing his shirt discontendly.
That wasn’t when he fell into this love that bordered obsession (or perhaps it was the other way around, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care anymore), but it was the beginning of it.
:::
Kyuhyun, for all his snarkiness and youth, was quite popular with the ladies.
Though, to be fair, all of them were quite popular with the ladies.
They weren’t banned from having sex, or from sneaking girls in under their arms into the dorms.
In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been nearly as shocking as he found it to be, but the first time he saw Kyuhyun with a girl, caressing her cheek softly, promises shining in his eyes, the first time that the ugly flare of jealousy burned his heart, he felt…
…inadequate.
He kind of remembered sleeping with some girls afterwards, and kind of remembered Henry patting his back in a brotherly fashion (kind of remembered yelling about seniority rights, if he thought hard enough), but he really remembered the soft body underneath his, and how utterly insanely jealous he felt.
:::
“Am I pretty?” he threw out randomly one day, while the entire group is crowded inside the dressing room with half a dozen women deliberating over the right shade of something that’ll eventually end up on one of their faces.
Donghae shrugged, “Aren’t we all pretty?”
They stayed silent for a minute, flicking their eyes towards the back corner of the room.
Siwon protested, but no one cared to listen to his protests as much as they did to make fun of him.
Kyuhyun smirked at him, throwing a suggestive look, but Zhoumi willed himself not to see it.
:::
He couldn’t remember how it started, only that it did and the way it carried on torturously long, begging him to fall deeper into this crazy delusion he had tried to wean himself from, tried to drown himself in.
Those escapees were euphoric, seemingly ephemeral in his memory despite the way the younger man would drag out their sessions for hours, sliding his hands up under his skirt and blouse, whispering the most flattering compliments into his ears and neck and…
:::
It wasn’t making love, but it kind of felt like it.
:::
He dropped the pile of frilly lace and silk into the trash bag, thinking about the nice little girl Kyuhyun had taken out, arm wrapped around her tiny waist, and sighed.
::end::
by: quixotic_notes
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Zhoumi
Rating: Soft R [implied sex]
Summary: He hunched his shoulders and sighed, reaching out for the dark blue jeans that flattered his endless legs instead.
:::
He tugged on his skirt.
It was pink and lacy and delicate and so so pretty. The loose blouse didn’t stray far off from the innocent motif that seemed to come inherently with the skirt, betrayed only by the way it didn’t quite cover his thighs.
He looked to the mirror, and saw a tall lanky man, shoulders too broad, legs too long, face too sharp, and stopped looking.
The feminine lace and pretty little details of the skirt taunted him. What should’ve been so obvious, unquestionable, failed in his delusional dreams.
He hunched his shoulders and sighed, reaching out for the dark blue jeans that flattered his endless legs instead.
:::
Girls were pretty.
He liked looking at girls. He liked looking at their pretty clothes, their small frames, their cute faces.
He liked sleeping with girls, angling his body attractively, liked the way how his bright white smile contrasted his dark endless eyes seductively.
He had never questioned his gender, never thought about dresses and skirts and pink dolls.
He wasn’t sure when he thought about them, but by the time he realized how far he had strayed away, all he could only see the point of no return laughing at his back cruelly..
:::
Honestly, Kyuhyun wasn’t anything special. In the crowd of pretty plastic faces and auto-tuned voices, he shouldn’t have stood out.
Even when Super Junior M was first formed, he didn’t stand out, because Han Geng was Chinese and Henry was from Canada and who could compete with that?
It wasn’t until he chanced upon Kyuhyun’s singing practice that he truly noticed him, noticed the way his face would turn slightly awkward at a particularly hard note, before relaxing into an easier more comfortable range, the way his hands seemed at a lost, grabbing his shirt discontendly.
That wasn’t when he fell into this love that bordered obsession (or perhaps it was the other way around, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care anymore), but it was the beginning of it.
:::
Kyuhyun, for all his snarkiness and youth, was quite popular with the ladies.
Though, to be fair, all of them were quite popular with the ladies.
They weren’t banned from having sex, or from sneaking girls in under their arms into the dorms.
In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been nearly as shocking as he found it to be, but the first time he saw Kyuhyun with a girl, caressing her cheek softly, promises shining in his eyes, the first time that the ugly flare of jealousy burned his heart, he felt…
…inadequate.
He kind of remembered sleeping with some girls afterwards, and kind of remembered Henry patting his back in a brotherly fashion (kind of remembered yelling about seniority rights, if he thought hard enough), but he really remembered the soft body underneath his, and how utterly insanely jealous he felt.
:::
“Am I pretty?” he threw out randomly one day, while the entire group is crowded inside the dressing room with half a dozen women deliberating over the right shade of something that’ll eventually end up on one of their faces.
Donghae shrugged, “Aren’t we all pretty?”
They stayed silent for a minute, flicking their eyes towards the back corner of the room.
Siwon protested, but no one cared to listen to his protests as much as they did to make fun of him.
Kyuhyun smirked at him, throwing a suggestive look, but Zhoumi willed himself not to see it.
:::
He couldn’t remember how it started, only that it did and the way it carried on torturously long, begging him to fall deeper into this crazy delusion he had tried to wean himself from, tried to drown himself in.
Those escapees were euphoric, seemingly ephemeral in his memory despite the way the younger man would drag out their sessions for hours, sliding his hands up under his skirt and blouse, whispering the most flattering compliments into his ears and neck and…
:::
It wasn’t making love, but it kind of felt like it.
:::
He dropped the pile of frilly lace and silk into the trash bag, thinking about the nice little girl Kyuhyun had taken out, arm wrapped around her tiny waist, and sighed.
::end::