fic: tequila oro
title: tequila oro
fandom: beast
pairing: dongwoon/kikwang, extremely (extremely) ninja!junseob
genre: au
rating: r
word count: 813
notes: idek (/____\) but everyone writes a club scene at least once, right?
-
the sound of my ragged breathing makes you go crazy
aj - dancing shoes
when dongwoon first sees kikwang he does a double take because those lips are fucking ridiculous. he must be hallucinating or something-the universe, let alone this fairly small nightclub, couldn't possibly hold a pair of lips that lush, that full, that generously enticing.
he hastily downs his tequila shot-fuck the lemon wedge, this is an emergency-and orders another, wondering if the more drunk he gets the more plausible those lips will become. yoseob, who's dragged him here and is sitting beside him at the bar, raises an eyebrow at this unprecedented thirst (and continues chatting up the grumpy tattooed bartender regardless).
he really shouldn't be visible in the midst of the dance floor, submerged by dozens of sweaty bodies and swirling strobe lights and dressed modestly as he is, but dongwoon spots the inky-haired man at once, and the stretch of his leather jacket over his shoulders and the way his jeans hang low on his waist are far more provocative than any sequined minidress.
nope. still unreal.
the black-haired man personifies the music. his hips shape the thudding bassline, jerking and twisting out the beat, and his glimmering eyes whisper the lewd lyrics (and dongwoon imagines that those smoldering come-hither looks are directed at him). he slaps down his empty glass, slides off the stool (hooked like a fish by the way the man flips his sweaty hair out of his face), and elbows past the crowd until he's in front of him, breathless and suddenly tongue-tied.
(he's read somewhere that men who use "hi" as a pick-up line are successful 71 percent of the time and he's got nothing better in mind other than hey babe, i'm drunk off you, which he's pretty sure isn't acceptable in any company, so he blurts out brightly-)
"hey."
the man smiles, lips (even better up close, crazy plump cherry red) stretching across perfectly aligned teeth and eyes melting into liquid arcs (dongwoon's heart skips a beat; he's not allowed to fall in love with strangers at clubs but fuck, that smile), and replies easily,"hi. wanna dance?"
-
they're moving to something electronic, chaotic bass pounding through them, dongwoon gripping the other's waist as he ratchets and grinds against him, and dongwoon's not an expert (to say the least), but even he can tell the shorter man is skilled. their swaying together has a solid rhythm, a fluidity punctuated by the smell of sweat on the other's neck and the feel of his ass against his jeans. he whispers into the dancer's ear, "what's your name?" and when he twists around and replies, "kikwang. yours?" his breath's hot, so hot against dongwoon's face.
-
dongwoon thinks there's something to be said for living in hongdae. it's finally worth the sleepless nights caused by the cacophony of the clubbing district, the impossibly high rent, the inebriated street brawls at six in the morning. because it only takes them a few minutes to stumble into his apartment, dongwoon's hands roaming underneath kikwang's wifebeater and up his sides as he (finally) presses bruising kisses against those luscious lips. kikwang tastes like vanilla and cinnamon and he melts in his mouth, all gentle keens and head thrown back and fingernails plucking at dongwoon's shirt. he's even more beautiful divested of his clothes (dongwoon traces an ab appreciatively with his tongue, slightly self-conscious of his own, which are humble in comparison). he's lightheaded partly from the alcohol but more from the sight of kikwang splayed across his sheets, glossy hair matted to his forehead, eyes unfocused as dongwoon swivels his slicked fingers inside him. dongwoon fucks kikwang into the mattress, sucking at the hollow at the base of his neck, pumping him rapidly in time with his thrusts, and their hands are intertwined when he comes, moaning through his teeth into kikwang's shoulder; kikwang climaxes with a shudder a few lazy strokes after.
dongwoon pulls up the blankets and they start to snicker like schoolchildren, spent limbs pressed together in a warm tangle.
-
dongwoon's awakened by the buzzing of his hand phone (heart blossoming when he sees kikwang hasn't left, is still huddled against his side, bedspread bunched like a cocoon). he flips the phone open swiftly before it rouses the other man.
"hey, dongwoon-ah," yoseob's indignant voice filters through, "why'd you run off last night? i had to pay for all your drinks, you know that? you owe me."
dongwoon surveys kikwang's soft, tranquil face, and he can't help it, can't quash the surge of hope that wells from his chest, can't help feeling this might be a beginning (unlikely, so unlikely, but he wants it terribly): kikwang clasped to his side, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and his chest curving up and down slowly with each breath.
"yeah, hyung. i do."
-
end notes: i almost couldn't resist putting in "get your dancing shoes" after kikwang says "wanna dance?" hahA (・∀・;; )
fandom: beast
pairing: dongwoon/kikwang, extremely (extremely) ninja!junseob
genre: au
rating: r
word count: 813
notes: idek (/____\) but everyone writes a club scene at least once, right?
-
the sound of my ragged breathing makes you go crazy
aj - dancing shoes
when dongwoon first sees kikwang he does a double take because those lips are fucking ridiculous. he must be hallucinating or something-the universe, let alone this fairly small nightclub, couldn't possibly hold a pair of lips that lush, that full, that generously enticing.
he hastily downs his tequila shot-fuck the lemon wedge, this is an emergency-and orders another, wondering if the more drunk he gets the more plausible those lips will become. yoseob, who's dragged him here and is sitting beside him at the bar, raises an eyebrow at this unprecedented thirst (and continues chatting up the grumpy tattooed bartender regardless).
he really shouldn't be visible in the midst of the dance floor, submerged by dozens of sweaty bodies and swirling strobe lights and dressed modestly as he is, but dongwoon spots the inky-haired man at once, and the stretch of his leather jacket over his shoulders and the way his jeans hang low on his waist are far more provocative than any sequined minidress.
nope. still unreal.
the black-haired man personifies the music. his hips shape the thudding bassline, jerking and twisting out the beat, and his glimmering eyes whisper the lewd lyrics (and dongwoon imagines that those smoldering come-hither looks are directed at him). he slaps down his empty glass, slides off the stool (hooked like a fish by the way the man flips his sweaty hair out of his face), and elbows past the crowd until he's in front of him, breathless and suddenly tongue-tied.
(he's read somewhere that men who use "hi" as a pick-up line are successful 71 percent of the time and he's got nothing better in mind other than hey babe, i'm drunk off you, which he's pretty sure isn't acceptable in any company, so he blurts out brightly-)
"hey."
the man smiles, lips (even better up close, crazy plump cherry red) stretching across perfectly aligned teeth and eyes melting into liquid arcs (dongwoon's heart skips a beat; he's not allowed to fall in love with strangers at clubs but fuck, that smile), and replies easily,"hi. wanna dance?"
-
they're moving to something electronic, chaotic bass pounding through them, dongwoon gripping the other's waist as he ratchets and grinds against him, and dongwoon's not an expert (to say the least), but even he can tell the shorter man is skilled. their swaying together has a solid rhythm, a fluidity punctuated by the smell of sweat on the other's neck and the feel of his ass against his jeans. he whispers into the dancer's ear, "what's your name?" and when he twists around and replies, "kikwang. yours?" his breath's hot, so hot against dongwoon's face.
-
dongwoon thinks there's something to be said for living in hongdae. it's finally worth the sleepless nights caused by the cacophony of the clubbing district, the impossibly high rent, the inebriated street brawls at six in the morning. because it only takes them a few minutes to stumble into his apartment, dongwoon's hands roaming underneath kikwang's wifebeater and up his sides as he (finally) presses bruising kisses against those luscious lips. kikwang tastes like vanilla and cinnamon and he melts in his mouth, all gentle keens and head thrown back and fingernails plucking at dongwoon's shirt. he's even more beautiful divested of his clothes (dongwoon traces an ab appreciatively with his tongue, slightly self-conscious of his own, which are humble in comparison). he's lightheaded partly from the alcohol but more from the sight of kikwang splayed across his sheets, glossy hair matted to his forehead, eyes unfocused as dongwoon swivels his slicked fingers inside him. dongwoon fucks kikwang into the mattress, sucking at the hollow at the base of his neck, pumping him rapidly in time with his thrusts, and their hands are intertwined when he comes, moaning through his teeth into kikwang's shoulder; kikwang climaxes with a shudder a few lazy strokes after.
dongwoon pulls up the blankets and they start to snicker like schoolchildren, spent limbs pressed together in a warm tangle.
-
dongwoon's awakened by the buzzing of his hand phone (heart blossoming when he sees kikwang hasn't left, is still huddled against his side, bedspread bunched like a cocoon). he flips the phone open swiftly before it rouses the other man.
"hey, dongwoon-ah," yoseob's indignant voice filters through, "why'd you run off last night? i had to pay for all your drinks, you know that? you owe me."
dongwoon surveys kikwang's soft, tranquil face, and he can't help it, can't quash the surge of hope that wells from his chest, can't help feeling this might be a beginning (unlikely, so unlikely, but he wants it terribly): kikwang clasped to his side, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and his chest curving up and down slowly with each breath.
"yeah, hyung. i do."
-
end notes: i almost couldn't resist putting in "get your dancing shoes" after kikwang says "wanna dance?" hahA (・∀・;; )