Nights Off 1/1
Author's Note: Junsu/You for davonnaxlovesxu. I started...but it just kept going and going and going, lol. Hope it suffices!
It was another night at the studio, darkness all around and two screens lit with all types of lights you didn’t fully understand. You sat in the seat next to his, quiet but impatiently waiting for him to hurry up and come home.
“Baby-“
“Shhh. I need eight more counts. Just eight-“
You huff exasperatedly and get up to leave, your skirt sashaying obnoxiously. It was just like the last ten nights in a row, or the time he was on vacation and spent it on his laptop. Waiting in the car was lonely enough, but it wasn’t the studio. He always ignored you there, and though you wanted to accompany him, you felt ignored.
He was always in there, in that cursed studio, tinkering at some noise; some beat he had to have recorded because his life depended on it. The thing that drove you crazy wasn’t his passion for his music, but his obsession for it. It was the backbeat to every tune he hummed. He walked to the rhythm of each song he performed. His steps would shift awkwardly every once in a while, playing a song over and over as he tried to get a movement to it down. It was the obsession, not the passion.
On the contrary, you loved how passionate he was. He was kind, caring for your well-being despite his need to perfect his talent. He was passionate each night he did make it home, finding any way he could to please you despite the tiring schedules of his work.
You were walking out and your hand was grabbed.
“Baby wait.”
You turned around to glare at him, and he held up pleading hands. Half of his face was illuminated by the screens, fading to black as it reached the other side. You could see the tire in his face, and felt sorry for him; but then you saw how it dipped and edged around his jawline, his neck…his collarbone... As usual, you didn’t stay angered for too long.
You tried to hide your distraction by rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, just as he smirked a bit.
“What? I want to go-“
His hand reached down under his table full of equipment, and he pulled out an awkwardly wrapped box.
“Here,” he says, handing it to you. “…I tried to wrap it myself, so don’t say it looks shitty.”
You almost giggled, but you took the box anyway, any flushes to your cheeks then coming out of the simple happiness of receiving a gift. That bastard, you quietly thought. You made faces as you unwrapped it, wondering what he was using to try to suck up to you then. Or maybe it was from the layers of bubble wrap that encased the box. When you opened it up, you saw a pair of black pumps; red-bottomed stilettoes.
“Really?” you asked sarcastically, holding one up as you read the designer name on the box. “…you’re so cheap, though.”
“Ha ha, funny. I get it. But…well-”
He suddenly got up.
“-I want to say sorry. And I think I owe you something nice.” His fingertips edged at the box still held in front of you. He pulled out the other shoe and handed it to you before he set the box back down. “Try them on? Please?”
His eyes drooped as he asked, his fingertips then edging at your stomach and tickling you the slightest bit.
“Fine.” Your other shoes were kicked off and you put the new ones on, relishing how sexy they made you feel. “…they fit fine. I guess-“
“You guess, huh?” he asked sarcastically. His fingers now walked the lines of the hem on your shirt. They skip around your waist, making you smile a bit more until he wrapped his hands around your back. His forehead came down to meet yours and that droopy-eyed look was gone. They narrowed and became more sinister. He was tired, but you assumed not that tired yet, for you still had quite a bit of the night left. That look teased at your senses as you peered into them, but you tried to let the feeling fall away.
“Yes. I guess,” you replied. You wondered if he could hear how your voice nearly cracked.
He breathed in deep and closed his eyes.
“Take them off,” he whispered. His voice had quieted largely but you took it as a sign that at last he would wind down for the night.
“Finally,” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, “now we can leave-“
He held you closer, wrapping the back of your shirt up in his hands tightly. You froze, looking down at his lips, as you didn’t know what you’d want to leave if you saw that look in his eyes again.
“Not your shoes. …take them off,” he repeated.
“Junsu-“
“I’ll take a night off. I’ll do whatever you want me to just …” He breathed in again and the hold on your shirt was making it ride up. “Those shoes look so good on you and I just…never get time alone with you… Please…”
He stretched out the last word, letting it spread out like a long note of music.
“…we need to go-”
“No we don’t,” he said. Your words mocked his, both of you reluctantly dragging out speech. “You hate this place…but I know you’re not trying to leave right now. …not now.”
One hand began sliding under you shirt as he pulled you back. His other hand reached to his side and slid over his padded chair.
“…I want to…leave…”
You’d become delirious as your shirt was being pulled off.
“Stop talking,” he hummed into your ear before fully pulling your shirt off. You didn’t know why you even bothered talking anymore as your arms lifted and your legs spread.
He picked you up, hands cupping the tissue of your ass as you voraciously attacked his mouth. Your hands felt his face as you kissed him. You felt how his cheeks hollowed each time he stretched them open. You let fingers sit at crooks under his jaw as you felt muscles shift and his heartbeat quicken. Your heels clasped across each other slightly as you felt yourself shifting in the air. He pushed his hips forward bit by bit, warming you as they bumped at your quickly filling core. What you didn’t see was him lining the low back of the chair up with the flat edge of his equipment table. He sat the both of you down harder than he wanted, eagerness willing him and a small sound emitting from his lips.
Junsu broke off the kiss as he knew you could feel the growth of his dick in his loose pants. You looked down at his mouth, only lightly illuminated by the screens, but saw that it was swollen, his tongue coming out to lick at the pink of his lips. You mocked his movement, teasing the air with the muscled flesh and he moved swifter, harshly lifting your skirt until it was on your stomach. He lifted you higher into his lap and shifted his hips, sliding his pants down lightly and gaining some much needed friction. He pulled himself out with one hand, but sat with it stilled and you wanting more as your vagina weeped for his entry.
His other hand came up to your hair, sliding into the locks and shifting a few so they would stop falling into your face. It continued to shift as you rocked your hips the slightest bit. You were swelling with need and Junsu just smiled to himself in the dark. The blush on your cheeks couldn’t be seen, but you could tell he knew just how naked you were then; the other reason why you wanted to get home so quick. You wanted more of that passion, this passion, which he could be so giving of.
The free hand in your hair trailed down your back, unsnapping your bra as you continued to rock ashamedly. You bit your lip and he licked his again when it slid off your body. He wished he could see just how hard your nipples were in the darkness. The screen light bounced around the edges of your nearly naked body and he couldn’t deal with the taunt anymore.
He tilt his hips and pumped slowly, already feeling how wet you were. It felt like eight counts when he was in you. Sex with him was like hard, precise movements that could crescendo at any given moment. The room was full of your moaning, a song that bounced off the walls like a heavy beat and came back to hit you again. The lyrics were profane and loud, shocking as they slid off the tongue but shiver-inducing as they thrummed past your eardrum and made your heart race.
Junsu kept the strokes short because of the lack of room, but he wanted to fill you, please you for your patience and make you cry out until your throat was sore. He pulled himself out unwillingly, but knelt down, knowing full well how he could get off simply by making you scream. Spinning you around, he could see how much you were leaking for him and how your legs refused to close.
Your heels sat on the floor on each side of him, cock still out and dripping slightly. He ignored his need and delicately slid agile hands over an ankle. You were still breathing hard, but you watched him, knowing well enough to shut up and enjoy the ride.
Junsu’s lips kissed at your ankle and gingerly followed more up the inside of your leg. He set it on his shoulder as he continued to venture up, pecks hungrier with each centimeter he took toward his goal. The other leg hitched over the other shoulder and he pulled you toward his mouth, flicking his tongue the slightest bit on your clitoris. A hand slipped across your folds, gaining some moisture before he slid the hand onto his dick. You moved easily, the chair you were on made slicker and slicker as he further prodded his tongue. It dipped and licked up, making you jump slightly and your legs shake. You made use of your heels and hooked them behind him, bringing him in closer. He moaned, feeling himself getting closer as he opened his mouth wider and greedily began to eat you out. Nipping and sucking his way to your completion, you were sure you had said enough words that he could write a few songs to. His mouth had the gift of song, and within minutes you were singing out his name. Junsu moved his face and let the light fall on your shaking form, saw how much fluid you were losing and groaned out his climax.
You saw his silhouette through hooded eyes and knelt down weakly near him, your knees knocking slightly. Your hands slid up his chest, finding it rather unfair that you weren’t clothed and he was. Your fingers gathered, much like his from earlier and you pulled up, shedding his shirt and black tank that were now moist with sweat. You feel across the expanse of his chest and the chisel of his wide shoulders before languidly sliding them back down to feel across his hardened stomach. They wrap around him before he reciprocates. As you hold each other, it’s a peaceful come down. There isn’t a drop of sound besides your breathing.
You don’t want to realize the mess you’ve made. Not yet. That could wait. It was his studio anyway, and he had the rest of the night off.
It was another night at the studio, darkness all around and two screens lit with all types of lights you didn’t fully understand. You sat in the seat next to his, quiet but impatiently waiting for him to hurry up and come home.
“Baby-“
“Shhh. I need eight more counts. Just eight-“
You huff exasperatedly and get up to leave, your skirt sashaying obnoxiously. It was just like the last ten nights in a row, or the time he was on vacation and spent it on his laptop. Waiting in the car was lonely enough, but it wasn’t the studio. He always ignored you there, and though you wanted to accompany him, you felt ignored.
He was always in there, in that cursed studio, tinkering at some noise; some beat he had to have recorded because his life depended on it. The thing that drove you crazy wasn’t his passion for his music, but his obsession for it. It was the backbeat to every tune he hummed. He walked to the rhythm of each song he performed. His steps would shift awkwardly every once in a while, playing a song over and over as he tried to get a movement to it down. It was the obsession, not the passion.
On the contrary, you loved how passionate he was. He was kind, caring for your well-being despite his need to perfect his talent. He was passionate each night he did make it home, finding any way he could to please you despite the tiring schedules of his work.
You were walking out and your hand was grabbed.
“Baby wait.”
You turned around to glare at him, and he held up pleading hands. Half of his face was illuminated by the screens, fading to black as it reached the other side. You could see the tire in his face, and felt sorry for him; but then you saw how it dipped and edged around his jawline, his neck…his collarbone... As usual, you didn’t stay angered for too long.
You tried to hide your distraction by rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, just as he smirked a bit.
“What? I want to go-“
His hand reached down under his table full of equipment, and he pulled out an awkwardly wrapped box.
“Here,” he says, handing it to you. “…I tried to wrap it myself, so don’t say it looks shitty.”
You almost giggled, but you took the box anyway, any flushes to your cheeks then coming out of the simple happiness of receiving a gift. That bastard, you quietly thought. You made faces as you unwrapped it, wondering what he was using to try to suck up to you then. Or maybe it was from the layers of bubble wrap that encased the box. When you opened it up, you saw a pair of black pumps; red-bottomed stilettoes.
“Really?” you asked sarcastically, holding one up as you read the designer name on the box. “…you’re so cheap, though.”
“Ha ha, funny. I get it. But…well-”
He suddenly got up.
“-I want to say sorry. And I think I owe you something nice.” His fingertips edged at the box still held in front of you. He pulled out the other shoe and handed it to you before he set the box back down. “Try them on? Please?”
His eyes drooped as he asked, his fingertips then edging at your stomach and tickling you the slightest bit.
“Fine.” Your other shoes were kicked off and you put the new ones on, relishing how sexy they made you feel. “…they fit fine. I guess-“
“You guess, huh?” he asked sarcastically. His fingers now walked the lines of the hem on your shirt. They skip around your waist, making you smile a bit more until he wrapped his hands around your back. His forehead came down to meet yours and that droopy-eyed look was gone. They narrowed and became more sinister. He was tired, but you assumed not that tired yet, for you still had quite a bit of the night left. That look teased at your senses as you peered into them, but you tried to let the feeling fall away.
“Yes. I guess,” you replied. You wondered if he could hear how your voice nearly cracked.
He breathed in deep and closed his eyes.
“Take them off,” he whispered. His voice had quieted largely but you took it as a sign that at last he would wind down for the night.
“Finally,” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, “now we can leave-“
He held you closer, wrapping the back of your shirt up in his hands tightly. You froze, looking down at his lips, as you didn’t know what you’d want to leave if you saw that look in his eyes again.
“Not your shoes. …take them off,” he repeated.
“Junsu-“
“I’ll take a night off. I’ll do whatever you want me to just …” He breathed in again and the hold on your shirt was making it ride up. “Those shoes look so good on you and I just…never get time alone with you… Please…”
He stretched out the last word, letting it spread out like a long note of music.
“…we need to go-”
“No we don’t,” he said. Your words mocked his, both of you reluctantly dragging out speech. “You hate this place…but I know you’re not trying to leave right now. …not now.”
One hand began sliding under you shirt as he pulled you back. His other hand reached to his side and slid over his padded chair.
“…I want to…leave…”
You’d become delirious as your shirt was being pulled off.
“Stop talking,” he hummed into your ear before fully pulling your shirt off. You didn’t know why you even bothered talking anymore as your arms lifted and your legs spread.
He picked you up, hands cupping the tissue of your ass as you voraciously attacked his mouth. Your hands felt his face as you kissed him. You felt how his cheeks hollowed each time he stretched them open. You let fingers sit at crooks under his jaw as you felt muscles shift and his heartbeat quicken. Your heels clasped across each other slightly as you felt yourself shifting in the air. He pushed his hips forward bit by bit, warming you as they bumped at your quickly filling core. What you didn’t see was him lining the low back of the chair up with the flat edge of his equipment table. He sat the both of you down harder than he wanted, eagerness willing him and a small sound emitting from his lips.
Junsu broke off the kiss as he knew you could feel the growth of his dick in his loose pants. You looked down at his mouth, only lightly illuminated by the screens, but saw that it was swollen, his tongue coming out to lick at the pink of his lips. You mocked his movement, teasing the air with the muscled flesh and he moved swifter, harshly lifting your skirt until it was on your stomach. He lifted you higher into his lap and shifted his hips, sliding his pants down lightly and gaining some much needed friction. He pulled himself out with one hand, but sat with it stilled and you wanting more as your vagina weeped for his entry.
His other hand came up to your hair, sliding into the locks and shifting a few so they would stop falling into your face. It continued to shift as you rocked your hips the slightest bit. You were swelling with need and Junsu just smiled to himself in the dark. The blush on your cheeks couldn’t be seen, but you could tell he knew just how naked you were then; the other reason why you wanted to get home so quick. You wanted more of that passion, this passion, which he could be so giving of.
The free hand in your hair trailed down your back, unsnapping your bra as you continued to rock ashamedly. You bit your lip and he licked his again when it slid off your body. He wished he could see just how hard your nipples were in the darkness. The screen light bounced around the edges of your nearly naked body and he couldn’t deal with the taunt anymore.
He tilt his hips and pumped slowly, already feeling how wet you were. It felt like eight counts when he was in you. Sex with him was like hard, precise movements that could crescendo at any given moment. The room was full of your moaning, a song that bounced off the walls like a heavy beat and came back to hit you again. The lyrics were profane and loud, shocking as they slid off the tongue but shiver-inducing as they thrummed past your eardrum and made your heart race.
Junsu kept the strokes short because of the lack of room, but he wanted to fill you, please you for your patience and make you cry out until your throat was sore. He pulled himself out unwillingly, but knelt down, knowing full well how he could get off simply by making you scream. Spinning you around, he could see how much you were leaking for him and how your legs refused to close.
Your heels sat on the floor on each side of him, cock still out and dripping slightly. He ignored his need and delicately slid agile hands over an ankle. You were still breathing hard, but you watched him, knowing well enough to shut up and enjoy the ride.
Junsu’s lips kissed at your ankle and gingerly followed more up the inside of your leg. He set it on his shoulder as he continued to venture up, pecks hungrier with each centimeter he took toward his goal. The other leg hitched over the other shoulder and he pulled you toward his mouth, flicking his tongue the slightest bit on your clitoris. A hand slipped across your folds, gaining some moisture before he slid the hand onto his dick. You moved easily, the chair you were on made slicker and slicker as he further prodded his tongue. It dipped and licked up, making you jump slightly and your legs shake. You made use of your heels and hooked them behind him, bringing him in closer. He moaned, feeling himself getting closer as he opened his mouth wider and greedily began to eat you out. Nipping and sucking his way to your completion, you were sure you had said enough words that he could write a few songs to. His mouth had the gift of song, and within minutes you were singing out his name. Junsu moved his face and let the light fall on your shaking form, saw how much fluid you were losing and groaned out his climax.
You saw his silhouette through hooded eyes and knelt down weakly near him, your knees knocking slightly. Your hands slid up his chest, finding it rather unfair that you weren’t clothed and he was. Your fingers gathered, much like his from earlier and you pulled up, shedding his shirt and black tank that were now moist with sweat. You feel across the expanse of his chest and the chisel of his wide shoulders before languidly sliding them back down to feel across his hardened stomach. They wrap around him before he reciprocates. As you hold each other, it’s a peaceful come down. There isn’t a drop of sound besides your breathing.
You don’t want to realize the mess you’ve made. Not yet. That could wait. It was his studio anyway, and he had the rest of the night off.