So I fic everything except what I'm supposed to.
I think I might as well be a whore, because clearly, I am too easy.
hoyah prompted me for PWP YeWook based off some sexy dream she had of them including ropes (that lucky woman), so instead of working on contest fics, I wrote this.
And then meiface somehow got in on our thread (okay, in all fairness, we were spamming her LJ) and asked for KiHae. So what came out was a really short drabble-ish thing that is kind of cheesy but porn eats my brain, okay.
... Why am I so easy? *dies* Okay now back to proper ficcage, jfc.
___
It’s nothing new, the feeling of two fingers inside him while Yesung’s mouth works on him, but the difference this time is that his arms are tied to the bedposts above his head with rope and there’s a blindfold around his eyes so the world is blocked out from his senses and he can only feel and hear. Ryeowook licks his dry lips, tugging experimentally at the ropes binding him. It hurts, because his wrists are already chafed from all his earlier struggling against the coarse hemp, and he opens his mouth to protest again but then Yesung’s tongue slides just so and his fingers push just there and what comes out is a low, breathy moan.
He feels Yesung chuckle around him, voice dark and deep, and he pulls again at his restraints, hardly feeling the pain this time because all he knows is that the teasing has gone on for far too long, he’s been tied up for at least two hours and Yesung has done everything except actually fuck him, and he needs Yesung inside him now or he’ll burst.
“Come on, just do it already,” he says, voice slightly cracked with want. He’s actually glad he’s blindfolded, so he can’t see Yesung’s face. It helps him to be less inhibited when he reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore and has to beg, humiliating as that is.
He feels Yesung pull off him - the sudden waft of cold air over him makes him shudder - but his fingers remain inside, twisting and probing expertly so he’s shaking with every little movement. “You’re so impatient.”
“Stop fucking teasing,” Ryeowook bites out, yanking at the ropes again. “Hyung, you’re such a - oh - “ He trails off at the familiar feel of Yesung finally, finally entering him, stretching him apart and god, it feels so good, but there’s something else that’s different -
“Hyung?”
Yesung only laughs. “Relax, Ryeowookie.” He crooks his fingers and Ryeowook gasps, because no way is Yesung actually inside him while leaving his fingers inside, no way can Yesung do that.
“Oh god, hyung, you’re not really -“
Yesung’s response is to push himself all the way in so the breath’s knocked right out of Ryeowook and at the same time he presses into Ryeowook’s spot again with his fingers, and Ryeowook jerks, yanking down unconsciously on the ropes.
“Fuck,” he swears, pain shooting down his arms as Yesung begins moving in and out slowly, fingers rubbing relentlessly against the little knot of nerves inside Ryeowook so he’s practically trembling, wrists rubbing against the ropes as he writhes and pulls. “Hyung, oh my god, this is - “
“Good?” Yesung says smoothly, his voice like rough velvet on the air, and for a moment Ryeowook’s infuriated, because he’s tied up and he can’t move and he wants to just touch Yesung, claw at him, do something to get him to move faster and not just go at this slow leisurely pace because if he doesn’t get fucked hard, soon, he’s going to scream the place down.
“Faster,” he gasps. “Hyung, faster - “
Yesung flicks his fingers again as he pushes all the way in, and Ryeowook has to stop to remember how to breathe, because there’re Yesung’s fingers rubbing at him and Yesung’s cock pushing at him and the sensations are overwhelming.
“Magic word,” he hears Yesung drawl lazily.
“Please,” he says, gritting his teeth.
“You’re going to have to learn to do better than that, Ryeowookie. I can go on like this all night, you know.” Yesung pushes harder as he speaks, inches himself just a little deeper, and Ryeowook cries out, pulling futilely at the ropes, feeling hot tears prickling behind his closed eyelids.
“Please,” he says again, more desperately this time. He licks his lips again. “Please, hyung, please, just fuck me already, stop teasing me - “
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Yesung breathes, voice husky and rough, and then he winds his free arm under Ryeowook’s hips and lifts them off the bed and slams into him as hard as he can, while those fingers press relentlessly into him so the stimulation is constant and the pleasure is almost blinding.
“Hyung,” Ryeowook chokes out, arms pulling at the ropes so hard he’s starting to bleed, but he doesn’t feel the pain, doesn’t feel anything except how full he is with Yesung and his fingers inside him, the twin sensations of being fucked by both at the same time roaring up and down his body and sending pleasure exploding in his mind. He’s not going to last long, not when Yesung’s doing this to him, pounding into him so hard he doesn’t even have breath to scream and fingers rubbing at his prostate unceasingly so he can’t even think about anything except that he’s going to come, he’s going to come, he’s going to -
And then he does come, exploding with nothing more than a little gasp because it feels so good he can’t breathe, colours flashing behind his eyes as he strains against the ropes, the smell of blood sharp on the air. He registers it only dimly, just as he hardly hears Yesung’s low moan as he releases deep inside Ryeowook, not even caring when Yesung sets his hips back down on the bed and pulls himself and his fingers wetly out of him.
It’s only later when Yesung’s taken off his blindfold and unties him that he notices the thin trails of blood running down his arms, and the welts and bruises on his wrists, stark against pale creamy skin.
“Oh, shit,” Yesung says in dismay. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I don’t really care,” Ryeowook says drowsily, his nerves still tingling with pleasure and endorphins successfully overriding any pain he might feel.
“Yeah, but what about your photoshoot tomorrow?”
Ryeowook’s eyes fly open. “Oh my god,” he says, staring, horrified, at his wrists. “Oh, fuck, why do I let you do these things to me!”
Ryeowook gets a scolding from his stylist noona the next day and the photoshoot is delayed for two hours as she scrambles to find a long-sleeved jacket for him, instead of the t-shirt he was originally supposed to wear.
___
The party is fun and lively, and (almost) everyone is there, and Donghae’s grateful to his members for doing this for him. But there’s a hollowness in his heart he can’t help, and apparently he isn’t hiding it very well either, because Leeteuk murmurs softly to him, halfway through the party, “I haven’t been able to get him. I think he’s filming.”
Donghae musters a quick smile at his leader, though not a response, because he’s afraid of what might spill out if he opens his mouth. It’s his birthday, it’s a happy day, and no, he’s not going to wonder why he isn’t here and think about what he could be doing that’s more important than Donghae is and how, despite everything, he misses him, wants to see him so badly that it’s almost a physical pain.
So he just drinks as much as he can, downs every glass proffered to him, just so he can forget, just so he can smile and be happy, on this day where the people who actually care about him have gathered for him, and to hell with the rest.
His head is spinning by the time he staggers towards the back of the club, with a vague idea of needing to go to the bathroom and maybe throw up some of the alcohol bubbling in his system, but halfway he stumbles and almost falls, if not for a pair of arms that wraps around his waist and pulls him upright.
“How did you let yourself get like this? Couldn’t you wait until I got down here to get smashed along with me?” a familiar deep voice asks, and Donghae keeps his eyes closed but laughs.
“Who’s this trying to trick me? Siwonnie? Jongwoon-hyung?”
“Snap out of it, it’s me,” the person says again, but Donghae refuses to open his eyes, because if he does, and it’s not Kibum, he’s going to be crushed, and he’s going to cry, and that will ruin everything, and he’ll make everyone unhappy, and it’s so unfair that Kibum can affect him and his life and his friends like this even though he wishes so hard it’s Kibum with him right now and not Siwon, or Yesung, or whoever thinks it’s funny to make Donghae think that Kibum actually -
There are lips on his, soft and warm and interrupting his train of thoughts - Donghae’s eyes snap open this time, because he knows those lips and how they feel and taste, all the other times he’s kissed them running wildly through his mind and scattering the alcohol-induced fog.
“Ki - Kibum?” he mumbles into his mouth. “I thought you wouldn’t be here.”
“I would never not be anywhere you want me to be,” Kibum replies, and Donghae smiles against his lips, winding his arms around Kibum’s waist and pulling him closer, suddenly feeling the empty space in his heart melt away.
hoyah prompted me for PWP YeWook based off some sexy dream she had of them including ropes (that lucky woman), so instead of working on contest fics, I wrote this.
And then meiface somehow got in on our thread (okay, in all fairness, we were spamming her LJ) and asked for KiHae. So what came out was a really short drabble-ish thing that is kind of cheesy but porn eats my brain, okay.
... Why am I so easy? *dies* Okay now back to proper ficcage, jfc.
___
It’s nothing new, the feeling of two fingers inside him while Yesung’s mouth works on him, but the difference this time is that his arms are tied to the bedposts above his head with rope and there’s a blindfold around his eyes so the world is blocked out from his senses and he can only feel and hear. Ryeowook licks his dry lips, tugging experimentally at the ropes binding him. It hurts, because his wrists are already chafed from all his earlier struggling against the coarse hemp, and he opens his mouth to protest again but then Yesung’s tongue slides just so and his fingers push just there and what comes out is a low, breathy moan.
He feels Yesung chuckle around him, voice dark and deep, and he pulls again at his restraints, hardly feeling the pain this time because all he knows is that the teasing has gone on for far too long, he’s been tied up for at least two hours and Yesung has done everything except actually fuck him, and he needs Yesung inside him now or he’ll burst.
“Come on, just do it already,” he says, voice slightly cracked with want. He’s actually glad he’s blindfolded, so he can’t see Yesung’s face. It helps him to be less inhibited when he reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore and has to beg, humiliating as that is.
He feels Yesung pull off him - the sudden waft of cold air over him makes him shudder - but his fingers remain inside, twisting and probing expertly so he’s shaking with every little movement. “You’re so impatient.”
“Stop fucking teasing,” Ryeowook bites out, yanking at the ropes again. “Hyung, you’re such a - oh - “ He trails off at the familiar feel of Yesung finally, finally entering him, stretching him apart and god, it feels so good, but there’s something else that’s different -
“Hyung?”
Yesung only laughs. “Relax, Ryeowookie.” He crooks his fingers and Ryeowook gasps, because no way is Yesung actually inside him while leaving his fingers inside, no way can Yesung do that.
“Oh god, hyung, you’re not really -“
Yesung’s response is to push himself all the way in so the breath’s knocked right out of Ryeowook and at the same time he presses into Ryeowook’s spot again with his fingers, and Ryeowook jerks, yanking down unconsciously on the ropes.
“Fuck,” he swears, pain shooting down his arms as Yesung begins moving in and out slowly, fingers rubbing relentlessly against the little knot of nerves inside Ryeowook so he’s practically trembling, wrists rubbing against the ropes as he writhes and pulls. “Hyung, oh my god, this is - “
“Good?” Yesung says smoothly, his voice like rough velvet on the air, and for a moment Ryeowook’s infuriated, because he’s tied up and he can’t move and he wants to just touch Yesung, claw at him, do something to get him to move faster and not just go at this slow leisurely pace because if he doesn’t get fucked hard, soon, he’s going to scream the place down.
“Faster,” he gasps. “Hyung, faster - “
Yesung flicks his fingers again as he pushes all the way in, and Ryeowook has to stop to remember how to breathe, because there’re Yesung’s fingers rubbing at him and Yesung’s cock pushing at him and the sensations are overwhelming.
“Magic word,” he hears Yesung drawl lazily.
“Please,” he says, gritting his teeth.
“You’re going to have to learn to do better than that, Ryeowookie. I can go on like this all night, you know.” Yesung pushes harder as he speaks, inches himself just a little deeper, and Ryeowook cries out, pulling futilely at the ropes, feeling hot tears prickling behind his closed eyelids.
“Please,” he says again, more desperately this time. He licks his lips again. “Please, hyung, please, just fuck me already, stop teasing me - “
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Yesung breathes, voice husky and rough, and then he winds his free arm under Ryeowook’s hips and lifts them off the bed and slams into him as hard as he can, while those fingers press relentlessly into him so the stimulation is constant and the pleasure is almost blinding.
“Hyung,” Ryeowook chokes out, arms pulling at the ropes so hard he’s starting to bleed, but he doesn’t feel the pain, doesn’t feel anything except how full he is with Yesung and his fingers inside him, the twin sensations of being fucked by both at the same time roaring up and down his body and sending pleasure exploding in his mind. He’s not going to last long, not when Yesung’s doing this to him, pounding into him so hard he doesn’t even have breath to scream and fingers rubbing at his prostate unceasingly so he can’t even think about anything except that he’s going to come, he’s going to come, he’s going to -
And then he does come, exploding with nothing more than a little gasp because it feels so good he can’t breathe, colours flashing behind his eyes as he strains against the ropes, the smell of blood sharp on the air. He registers it only dimly, just as he hardly hears Yesung’s low moan as he releases deep inside Ryeowook, not even caring when Yesung sets his hips back down on the bed and pulls himself and his fingers wetly out of him.
It’s only later when Yesung’s taken off his blindfold and unties him that he notices the thin trails of blood running down his arms, and the welts and bruises on his wrists, stark against pale creamy skin.
“Oh, shit,” Yesung says in dismay. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I don’t really care,” Ryeowook says drowsily, his nerves still tingling with pleasure and endorphins successfully overriding any pain he might feel.
“Yeah, but what about your photoshoot tomorrow?”
Ryeowook’s eyes fly open. “Oh my god,” he says, staring, horrified, at his wrists. “Oh, fuck, why do I let you do these things to me!”
Ryeowook gets a scolding from his stylist noona the next day and the photoshoot is delayed for two hours as she scrambles to find a long-sleeved jacket for him, instead of the t-shirt he was originally supposed to wear.
___
The party is fun and lively, and (almost) everyone is there, and Donghae’s grateful to his members for doing this for him. But there’s a hollowness in his heart he can’t help, and apparently he isn’t hiding it very well either, because Leeteuk murmurs softly to him, halfway through the party, “I haven’t been able to get him. I think he’s filming.”
Donghae musters a quick smile at his leader, though not a response, because he’s afraid of what might spill out if he opens his mouth. It’s his birthday, it’s a happy day, and no, he’s not going to wonder why he isn’t here and think about what he could be doing that’s more important than Donghae is and how, despite everything, he misses him, wants to see him so badly that it’s almost a physical pain.
So he just drinks as much as he can, downs every glass proffered to him, just so he can forget, just so he can smile and be happy, on this day where the people who actually care about him have gathered for him, and to hell with the rest.
His head is spinning by the time he staggers towards the back of the club, with a vague idea of needing to go to the bathroom and maybe throw up some of the alcohol bubbling in his system, but halfway he stumbles and almost falls, if not for a pair of arms that wraps around his waist and pulls him upright.
“How did you let yourself get like this? Couldn’t you wait until I got down here to get smashed along with me?” a familiar deep voice asks, and Donghae keeps his eyes closed but laughs.
“Who’s this trying to trick me? Siwonnie? Jongwoon-hyung?”
“Snap out of it, it’s me,” the person says again, but Donghae refuses to open his eyes, because if he does, and it’s not Kibum, he’s going to be crushed, and he’s going to cry, and that will ruin everything, and he’ll make everyone unhappy, and it’s so unfair that Kibum can affect him and his life and his friends like this even though he wishes so hard it’s Kibum with him right now and not Siwon, or Yesung, or whoever thinks it’s funny to make Donghae think that Kibum actually -
There are lips on his, soft and warm and interrupting his train of thoughts - Donghae’s eyes snap open this time, because he knows those lips and how they feel and taste, all the other times he’s kissed them running wildly through his mind and scattering the alcohol-induced fog.
“Ki - Kibum?” he mumbles into his mouth. “I thought you wouldn’t be here.”
“I would never not be anywhere you want me to be,” Kibum replies, and Donghae smiles against his lips, winding his arms around Kibum’s waist and pulling him closer, suddenly feeling the empty space in his heart melt away.