#11 Push
Title: Push
Raiting: NC-17
Pairings: Jaejoong x Yoochun
A/N: On a small break from Made of Blood and Bones(DBSK) and Unguarded(KT) because my muse demands this to be written. And it my first try at NC17 so please bear with me.
Summary: Before Yoochun had cut off his hair and Jae’s still hadn’t been dyed black, this had taken place in my own fangirl world ^^
In a world where time is measured by the faint brush of his hand, where minutes are suspended in eternity by the curve of his smile and each breath is lived under the seconds of his body straining against yours, you don’t say a word when a door slams and you look up to find him standing before you with a calm savageness uniquely his own.
“Get up” Your body reacts immediately to the command and you’re suddenly standing before you even realize it. There is no room for the laws of pride here. Not when the husky timbre of his voice whispers of torn clothes and swollen lips and you’re already breathless with anticipation.
You were best friends before he had came home drunk and you had ended up having sex for the first time on the cold hard wood of the living room floor.
“Touch me and it’s over” He says threateningly, giving you a second to understand the ground rules before your slammed against the wall and he swallows your gasp of pain with a searing kiss.
Your hands grip the cold expanse of cement pressing against your back as he stretches you out further into it and deepens the kiss as you moan in pleasure. The kiss is rough, messy and demanding. It is nothing like the movies of fairytale romances and everything the way you want it to be.
The second time it happened you had been purposely wasted and you couldn’t help smiling for an entire week when he had to wear a wrist band to hide the marks you made when you pinned him to the bed.
“Jae” You rasp out, the ache heavily laced into that one word, pleading. Straining against him, against the layers of clothes that are suddenly too much of a nuisance.
“Please..” The word comes out as a whimper instead when he tears your shirt open and the scrape of fingernails against your bare skin makes you flinch and shiver with pleasure at the same time.
“Fuck” Jae, they’re bloody expensive, but the protest dies in your lips and it ends up sounding more like a plea when you looked down to catch the pink of his tongue curl around your nipple.
He locks your gaze with his, his hands gripping the curve of your flat waist steady as his tongue mercilessly teased the pert nub.
“Please” You manage to gasp out when he bites into it delicately and you draw in a ragged breath to hold in the pleasure.
“Please what?” You catch the glint in his eyes, the demand in his voice as his hand splays onto your flat stomach, drinking in the sight of you flushed and panting against him.
You know exactly what to say but the words don’t come out. They remain lodged there in that space where he starts and you begin. Where his gaze leaves you knowing more about yourself and he draws you in to hold himself closer.
Neither of you were drunk the third time around. “This is just sex” He told you through gritted teeth and you only smirked back in response.
His hand clenches roughly at a handful of your hair and jerks it back so that the hollow space of your collarbone is curved in an offer for him to take.
You moan, wanton and unrestrained, when he suddenly softens against you and your sent reeling from the sudden flood of new sensations.
“What do you want?” Voice husky behind the curve of your neck as the pad of his thumb dips down into the deep V of your hip.
You, you tempting bitch, you want to say when you feel the smile he presses behind your ears as you push against him, causing his fingers to slide deeper into your jeans.
He is liquid heat and all the things you shouldn’t be, but his hands leaves you feverish and the lightest brush of his lips against yours drives you begging for more.
“You” is all you manage to say aloud when he bites your shoulders and proceeds to lick away the sting in small sensual strokes.
There will be battle marks, your certain, and there’ll be some explaining to the stylists as to why you’ll only wear turtlenecks and jackets for the coming weeks and how a number of concealers are suddenly missing.
But none of that matters beyond the insatiable hunger for the pain that tells you, days later, that he had left his mark on you. A delicious reminder of being possessed in a way neither of you would admit to having been possessed.
His left hand trails up, sharp fingernails against pale skin, dancing in the same fluid manner as his other hand, which remains buried under your jeans, teasing that space just above your aching flesh.
“Jae” You bloody tease.
“Hmm?” He turns to look at you, eyes glazed with hunger, lust and something you’re not quite certain you’ve seen before.
His lips parted, swollen and red against porcelain skin and platinum blonde hair, and you can’t stop yourself because he looked too damn innocent while his hand rubbed delicately at the tip of your hot sex.
“I want you”, you half growled as you broke loose from his command and reached out to cup the back of his neck and crush his lips against yours.
Hungry, the thought comes to you, you’ve never been so hungry before.
Your other hand clenches at his worn shirt and you turn to push him against the wall. There is no time to breathe, half mad with want and aching for more, you push against him. Tasting blood, tasting a glimpse of tomorrow when you hear his soft laughter as your fingers dig into the small of his waist, tasting a certain brand of madness only he could give you.
“I want you” The words coming out on their own as you kissed him again, spilling out on its own when you rip away his shirt to taste the flesh there, over and over again when you tug at the fly of his jeans, greedy for the taste of him buried deep inside of you.
“Want -”
“Yeah well..” He cuts you off, pulling you in with a hard tug on your jeans and starts rocking himself against your prominent bulge. You’re left moaning into his lips and digging into his shoulder blades when the sensation of his jeans against the silk of your pajamas sends you spiraling with an ache crying to be sated.
“Yeah well” He starts again but your too distracted by other pressing matters, “I love you” The words come out softly and you don’t understand it quick enough when he calmly pushes you away and you whimper in protest.
It takes a while but the words finally fall together and you snap your head up with a look of what you can guess expressed utter surprise. He holds your gaze and you can see the defiance in them that says he’s itching for a fight.. or passionately hot sex (whichever came first).
“Jae” you try to say, only to realize that the jumble of words you wanted to tell him hasn’t sorted itself out yet from the shock.
He shrugs at you, at the entire situation, like as if he hadn’t just said something as huge as i-love-you and picks up his shirt from the floor.
“Until you deal with it then…” He says, turning back to you and letting his gaze burn a straight and slow path towards your crotch.
“Go fuck yourself”
The words should’ve offended you but they don’t. Not when he says it huskily against your ear - hot breath sending shivers down your spine - and his hand grazes ever so slightly at what he had just turned down while he licks your ear in exactly the same way.
He leaves you there to deal with the shock on your own and everything suddenly hits you when he closes the bedroom door behind him. You sag against the wall for support, breathless, aching from being teased and taunted and left confused.
You look up at the whiteness of his closed door and draw a ragged breath in, lean back more steadily and suddenly your lips curl into a smile on what he had just confessed.
And confessed is the right word now, isn’t it? You think, the smile getting bigger.
Yeah, you can definitely deal with it.