Give, and I Shall Receive (Eunhyuk/Heechul)

[warmboys]

Pairing: Eunhyuk/Heechul
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1650
Summary: Hyukjae comes home from Sukira one night to enthusiastic happenings in his bed. Things get worse from there.
A/N: When the need to pornfu hits, it hits hard. OTL

For puppycadet, who loves them. ;___; I AM SORRY I HAVE FAILED YOU.

Give, and I Shall Receive

It’s past two by the time he stumbles back to the dorm with Leeteuk, who waves goodbye with his eyes half-closed and head rolling back against the wall of the elevator as the doors close. Hyukjae ponders briefly whether he’ll be okay getting out by himself the floor above but that thought lasts about five seconds as he tries to get the key into the keyhole and slip out of his sneakers at the same time, all the while keeping the soju inside him and not unleashing it onto Kyuhyun’s shoes.

His legs, rather than his brain, lead him into his bedroom and he strips his t-shirt and jeans and haphazardly gropes towards the bed, feeling a lukewarm breeze tickle his stomach from the window he must’ve left open in the morning despite the forecast for rain. “So careless,” he mumbles to himself, smiling when his head hits the pillow and not the wall behind it, but his arm nudges something hard to his left, and the sobering voice in his mostly-drunk brain tells him his sleeping real estate’s been halved by a foreign presence, small and bony. “Whatever,” he says, smacking his lips and throwing an arm around the intruder and nuzzling into his prickly hair.

“Oh, you’re back,” the guy says, rolling over into the hug, and it sounds like Heechul on acid, the way his syllables move like quicksand, but Hyukjae smiles an “mmhm” into the dark, breathes in the familiar musk of alcohol, and instantly falls asleep.

The next time he recovers consciousness it’s gotten a squint brighter outside but he’s still dazed and heavy-tongued, and momentarily considers the possibility that he’s dreaming when he feels his dick hot and bobbing in Heechul’s mouth. He moans something he won’t remember later and pets Heechul’s pretty blond hair, fingers fumbling for some leverage there, maybe, but he’s already so close this must’ve been going on for a while. His body cranks when he comes, spurting against the inside of Heechul’s cheek, and then he relaxes, drools a little onto the side of his pillow, and blacks out again.

“Oh no,” he says another three hours later when he looks down and sees 1) his cock, naked and free for viewing, and 2) Heechul on the other side of the bed, leg dangling off the edge, cheek streaked with--ah, yeah.

“This didn’t happen,” Heechul says, ten minutes later, awoken by the screaming. “I was drunk.”

“And I was... drunk,” Hyukjae agrees, distracted by Heechul’s severe case of morning bedhead.

“We didn’t do anything here,” Heechul repeats, maneuvering himself off the bed with difficulty while dabbing at his face with his sleeve, wetted with some spit. Hyukjae considers offering his assistance but thinks better of it.

“Why were you in my room? On my--my bed?” Hyukjae asks, trying to recall the moment he realized he wasn’t alone as well as why it didn’t faze him. Not that he would’ve had the nerve to push Heechul off or get him to leave.

Heechul yawns loudly. “I wanted to borrow the latest volume of One Piece. I fell asleep reading it on your bed, which was pretty comfortable until you came home.”

Hyukjae does a bad job of trying not to gape. “You read manga drunk?”

“No: the drunk me likes to read manga,” Heechul corrects. “Whatever. Point is, uh, I think your book is kind of ruined.”

He gestures towards the wrangled mess of pages lying on the floor, which must’ve gotten caught in their nighttime shenanigans. Hyukjae picks up what had been a brand new volume of his favorite manga to find that the cover sticks to his hand when he touches it.

“Sorry about that,” Heechul says. “I got bored reading and had to find another way to entertain myself.”

Because jerking off on your bandmate’s bed while reading your bandmate’s comic book and later sucking on your (now drunk) bandmate’s cock while half-asleep doesn’t feel like it should warrant anything more than an eyebrow raise, they brush the incident aside in favor of normality and going back to how things are Supposed to Be. Lots of things happen when there aren’t that many girls around, Hyukjae thinks, and truth is, their newfound friendship is still in its early delicate phase. He’s not ready to relinquish it over a misguided blowjob.

Or two.

It’s Heechul’s birthday, and he spends it with all of his favorite people minus Hyukjae, although Hyukjae isn’t sure if he would’ve made the list anyway, so he spends the night surfing the net and is just about to pull the blanket over his chin and call it a day when the front door slams and, seconds later, a heavily intoxicated Heechul tumbles into his room, reeking of fried food and drunken festivities.

“Hiii,” Heechul gargles, hair pleasantly mussed and sticking to the sides of his face, while he takes a seat beside Hyukjae’s knees and moves a hand under the sheet.

“Hyung,” Hyukjae begins, eyes widening, but Heechul’s got impeccable aim and has apparently found something interesting under the blanket.

A whirlwind minute later, Hyukjae’s helping him out of his jeans while simultaneously wrestling his own cock from his boxers. They keep their shirts on, Heechul’s white t-shirt a surreal princely glow in the dark, and Hyukjae’s own flannel pajama top somehow promising that if he’s not entirely naked, this isn’t really happening. Heechul knocks his head against Hyukjae’s shoulder, groaning something like a curse, and rubs their dicks together in happy unison. Hyukjae grips the backs of his thighs, not as thin as he expected, and pushes into Heechul’s loose fist while the mattress moans in rhythm underneath them.

The night ends with Heechul coming first, streaming liberally over the sheets and even onto the floor, and then softly sighing as he moved southward to finish Hyukjae off. Unfortunately he’s smashed within seconds and passes out with Hyukjae’s cock still in his mouth.

Hyukjae gently tugs himself out and jerks off drowsily into a tissue by the nightlamp. He acquaints himself with the couch in the living room and falls asleep until morning.

“Fuck,” Heechul says by way of greeting, slumped against the doorway. His hair has somehow found a way to defy gravity, which Hyukjae finds sexier than he should.

“Um, no,” Hyukjae says as firmly as he can manage, decidedly not looking at the swell of Heechul’s upper lip. “We’re not doing that.”

But then Henry comes back from Canada with his favorite homegrown vegetation and half an hour after they’ve parted Hyukjae’s still giggling over the fact that “pot” sounds the same as “pot” despite meaning entirely different things. He takes the elevator to the twelfth floor without thinking, finds the spare key under the doormat, and trips out of his sneakers, rolling over the wooden floor and laughing hysterically now. He’s stopped by a pair of cartoon socks which don’t smell as bad as socks are supposed to, or just his own socks, he doesn’t really have much for comparison besides Donghae’s, and Donghae’s socks never smell as bad as his, which Donghae gives him way too much grief for, fucking Donghae.

“What are you doing here,” Heechul says, and it makes sense, because who else would wear his own image on his feet? “Haha,” Hyukjae slurs, blinking away the haze to see Heechul’s pretty face better. “I don’t know.”

Heechul’s wearing the set of pjs Sulli gave him, pink and red striped, like a Valentine’s present with a white chocolate topping, Hyukjae thinks, grinning again and then toppling over before he knows it. That happens a lot when he grins.

“I want to eat you,” Hyukjae says, clutching his stomach because it hurts to laugh now, and Heechul’s staring at him, not quite frowning or smiling, but not discouraging either.

“What?” Heechul asks. “You want to what me.”

“EAT YOU,” Hyukjae bellows gleefully, “I WANT TO EAT YOU,” and Heechul’s eyes narrow before he pulls him into the bedroom doorway, which has been behind Hyukjae this entire time--like magic!!--and turns the lock.

In his current state Hyukjae doesn’t quite understand the art of foreplay but he does understand on an intuitive level the practice of “stroking wildly.” He tries it on Heechul and, encouraged by the noises, adds a preliminary lick to his new repertoire. It’s going exceedingly well, the both of them panting in unison, until Heechul turns and looks up at him, a bit hungry and hopeless, “Do you wanna.”

“Yeah,” Hyukjae says without thinking, and before he can exhale, Heechul grins impishly and kisses him on the mouth and spreads him over the bed. It takes a couple fingers and some slick to get Hyukjae used to the idea but still, nothing, nothing could’ve prepared him for the first thrust and the imploding pressure but then it’s just “Oh God hyung. Hyung--” while Heechul breathes huskily and calls him something like beautiful and otherworldly and a slew of other adjectives he’s never heard from anyone, least of all Heechul, who delights in likening him to a chimp every time they’re on a radio show alongside female celebrities with an ounce of attractiveness.

Afterwards he rolls over deliciously sore but also painfully aware of the reality that’s rapidly setting in, the fact that he just--they just--they both--and this time a year ago, they hardly were able to hold a conversation without making some awkward comment about the weather or food or the other members.

“So,” Heechul rasps, chest heaving off the mattress. “Want me to blow you again?”

“Uh, yeah,” Hyukjae says, totally unembarrassed.

So he does.

“You’ve been doing a lot of laundry lately,” Sungmin notes.

“Spring cleaning,” Hyukjae says, unloading his basket into the washing machine and carefully pouring detergent up to the yellow line in the cup.

“It’s summer.”

so this is like a continuation of bonding + after the flood or something, but crackporn ._.