sj gravity!verse wingfic, hankyung/heechul
this is for umberela, set during chapter fourteen of her wingfic, Gravity. Also check out her art post here for high quality, well-affordable commissions so she can go to the Super Show! <3
rating/pairing: hankyung/heechul, pg13
Hankyung doesn’t release Heechul’s wrist, fingers curled over it lightly on the countertop, and Heechul’s eyes don’t flicker from Hankyung’s stare, still a little bleak but also warm and gentle. He doesn’t realize he’s leaning in towards Hankyung, the fringe of their bangs nearly touching, until Kyuhyun messes up his landing by tripping into a pile of leaves, and Donghae’s loud laughter brings him back to reality. He pulls away sharply, coloring, and stands up.
“Well,” he says haughtily, “make sure to report to me first thing in the morning, and-” Hankyung stands up quickly, almost falling over when he tries to use his wings for balance and only one responds.
“Wait,” he says, almost desperate, and Heechul stops, face twisting as he fights back hope. Hankyung makes a vague gesture in the air between them with one hand, searching for words.
“You-don’t you need your pillows fluffed?” he asks finally, “And, and maybe.” He pauses, blushing. “Um, a bed warmer?” He shuffles his feet, deep flush evident even in the murky light of the kitchen. Heechul smiles at him, and steps close enough to take Hankyung’s wrist in his own hand, pulling it to him and pressing a soft kiss to the middle of Hankyung’s palm. Then he threads his fingers through Hankyung’s and leads him up the stairs and into his room.
Hankyung has been there before, but just on a hurried tour of the house, he’s never looked at it like he could live there, like he will live there, and he examines it curiously while Heechul fidgets, straightening odds and ends and smoothing the bedcovers.
“I cleared out space for you,” he says lowly, “in the closet and a couple drawers in the dresser.”
“Oh,” says Hankyung awkwardly, “I don’t have much, I. Thank you.” Heechul nods, and they avoid each eye contact for a few moments, shifting anxiously on their feet.
Heechul clears his throat, and then rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, grabbing Hankyung by his useless wing and tugging gently, “it’s late and you need sleep. You can fluff the pillows tomorrow.” He pushes Hankyung towards the bed and turns to slip off his socks.
Hankyung sits on the bed first, then swings his legs around and tries to settle in. Suddenly lying on his bad wing isn’t just hard, it’s impossible, because he knows now it will always be this way, that he will never be able to close it neatly or stretch it fully or even just walk without it hanging uselessly by his side, a constant reminder that he is grounded forever. He’s marginally aware his breathing has quickened and his hands have clenched, and distantly he recognizes the beginnings of a panic attack but then Heechul is there, kissing him, and it’s almost chaste, almost like a resuscitation as Heechul breathes for him, with him, and when he pulls away Hankyung is not only calm but lying on his back, comfortable on both his wings, Heechul’s hair falling across his face like a wave.
He looks at Heechul in almost wonder, and then he’s pulling Heechul on top of him, kissing him again, harder this time, with tongue and teeth and intent, hands sweeping up Heechul’s sides to slide around his jaw, fingers against his temples. When they break apart Heechul is breathing hard through his smile, dipping his head to nuzzle at Hankyung’s neck, humming softly. Hankyung sits up, grabbing Heechul’s waist to steady him, propping himself up against the headboard.
“We don’t have to do this if you don't want to,” he murmurs, tucking Heechul’s hair behind his ear, “it can be just sleep.”
“No, I want to,” Heechul says definitely, leaning into the touch like a cat, and Hankyung nods hesitantly.
"We'll go slow," Hankyung promises, eyes earnest.
“Slow,” Heechul repeats, looking thoughtful. "Sure."
Hankyung opens his mouth to say something but the words die on his tongue as he feels long fingers slide across the crotch of his pants, slow even pressure. When he looks again Heechul is smiling slightly, eyes dilated.
“Going slow requires too much patience,” Heechul says, and pushes him back against the pillows, licking his throat as he shoves Hankyung’s pants down and wraps a cool hand around him. “Let me do this for you,” he whispers into Hankyung’s ear, “and we can go slow later.”
Hankyung leans back as Heechul kisses a trail from his throat to his navel and lower. His touch is confident enough but his mouth is hesitant, and when Hankyung looks down, biting back a moan, Heechul looks like he’s concentrating almost too hard. Hankyung tugs his head up gently and kisses him again.
“We don’t have to,” he says firmly, and reaches down with one hand to pull his pants up. Heechul stills him swiftly.
“No,” Heechul says, looking suddenly younger but no less sure, “I want to, I do, it’s just,” he blushes slightly, looks off behind Hankyung’s left shoulder. Hankyung sits up straight, careful to keep Heechul from tumbling out of his lap.
“Have you--?” he starts, but Heechul fidgets embarrassedly and he has his answer. He kisses Heechul’s chest.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and then flinches as Heechul smacks him on the bicep, glaring. He rises up to his knees, Heechul’s legs wrapped tight around his waist, and settles back on the bed, Heechul pressed under him, and kisses him until the tension bleeds out of his body and his expression, and his hips are pushing up against Hankyung’s. “Let me do this for you,” he says, and strokes his hands up and down Heechul’s sides, soothing.
After that it’s a swirl of gasping and kissing and smiling, Heechul’s sweat on his skin and the smell of damp feathers.
Heechul wakes to the feel of gentle scratching along his wing bones, soft pressure smoothing his feathers. He cracks his eyes open and Hankyung is on his side watching him, looking ten times healthier than he had the night before, hair mussed from Heechul’s fingers and indents in his lips from Heechul’s teeth. His bad wing is hanging off the bed, but the other one is extended slightly, swaying gently in sync with their breathing. He smiles at Heechul’s awakening.
“I heard the others get up,” he says, and at his accent Heechul remembers murmuring of Chinese and begging in broken Korean, and his smile turns faintly leering. Hankyung laughs at him.
“You’re so easy,” he teases, rolling to his feet and offering a hand. Heechul ignores him, scoffing.
“You’re so smooth,” he says, mimicking Hankyung’s accent, “don’t you need a bedwarmer?” Hankyung flushes, and ignores him. Heechul sits up but doesn’t get out from under the sheets.
“Alright,” he announces, “you’re on the clock now, I want the skinny jeans from the second drawer and the black and grey shirt from the closet.” Hankyung turns to look at him, almost disbelieving, and Heechul raises an eyebrow.
“Hurry up,” he says, making little hand motions, “Eunhyuk will eat everything if we let him and I never decide on the first thing I try on.”
And if everything he wants to try on after that is in a lower drawer, well then that’s just an added bonus.
rating/pairing: hankyung/heechul, pg13
Hankyung doesn’t release Heechul’s wrist, fingers curled over it lightly on the countertop, and Heechul’s eyes don’t flicker from Hankyung’s stare, still a little bleak but also warm and gentle. He doesn’t realize he’s leaning in towards Hankyung, the fringe of their bangs nearly touching, until Kyuhyun messes up his landing by tripping into a pile of leaves, and Donghae’s loud laughter brings him back to reality. He pulls away sharply, coloring, and stands up.
“Well,” he says haughtily, “make sure to report to me first thing in the morning, and-” Hankyung stands up quickly, almost falling over when he tries to use his wings for balance and only one responds.
“Wait,” he says, almost desperate, and Heechul stops, face twisting as he fights back hope. Hankyung makes a vague gesture in the air between them with one hand, searching for words.
“You-don’t you need your pillows fluffed?” he asks finally, “And, and maybe.” He pauses, blushing. “Um, a bed warmer?” He shuffles his feet, deep flush evident even in the murky light of the kitchen. Heechul smiles at him, and steps close enough to take Hankyung’s wrist in his own hand, pulling it to him and pressing a soft kiss to the middle of Hankyung’s palm. Then he threads his fingers through Hankyung’s and leads him up the stairs and into his room.
Hankyung has been there before, but just on a hurried tour of the house, he’s never looked at it like he could live there, like he will live there, and he examines it curiously while Heechul fidgets, straightening odds and ends and smoothing the bedcovers.
“I cleared out space for you,” he says lowly, “in the closet and a couple drawers in the dresser.”
“Oh,” says Hankyung awkwardly, “I don’t have much, I. Thank you.” Heechul nods, and they avoid each eye contact for a few moments, shifting anxiously on their feet.
Heechul clears his throat, and then rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, grabbing Hankyung by his useless wing and tugging gently, “it’s late and you need sleep. You can fluff the pillows tomorrow.” He pushes Hankyung towards the bed and turns to slip off his socks.
Hankyung sits on the bed first, then swings his legs around and tries to settle in. Suddenly lying on his bad wing isn’t just hard, it’s impossible, because he knows now it will always be this way, that he will never be able to close it neatly or stretch it fully or even just walk without it hanging uselessly by his side, a constant reminder that he is grounded forever. He’s marginally aware his breathing has quickened and his hands have clenched, and distantly he recognizes the beginnings of a panic attack but then Heechul is there, kissing him, and it’s almost chaste, almost like a resuscitation as Heechul breathes for him, with him, and when he pulls away Hankyung is not only calm but lying on his back, comfortable on both his wings, Heechul’s hair falling across his face like a wave.
He looks at Heechul in almost wonder, and then he’s pulling Heechul on top of him, kissing him again, harder this time, with tongue and teeth and intent, hands sweeping up Heechul’s sides to slide around his jaw, fingers against his temples. When they break apart Heechul is breathing hard through his smile, dipping his head to nuzzle at Hankyung’s neck, humming softly. Hankyung sits up, grabbing Heechul’s waist to steady him, propping himself up against the headboard.
“We don’t have to do this if you don't want to,” he murmurs, tucking Heechul’s hair behind his ear, “it can be just sleep.”
“No, I want to,” Heechul says definitely, leaning into the touch like a cat, and Hankyung nods hesitantly.
"We'll go slow," Hankyung promises, eyes earnest.
“Slow,” Heechul repeats, looking thoughtful. "Sure."
Hankyung opens his mouth to say something but the words die on his tongue as he feels long fingers slide across the crotch of his pants, slow even pressure. When he looks again Heechul is smiling slightly, eyes dilated.
“Going slow requires too much patience,” Heechul says, and pushes him back against the pillows, licking his throat as he shoves Hankyung’s pants down and wraps a cool hand around him. “Let me do this for you,” he whispers into Hankyung’s ear, “and we can go slow later.”
Hankyung leans back as Heechul kisses a trail from his throat to his navel and lower. His touch is confident enough but his mouth is hesitant, and when Hankyung looks down, biting back a moan, Heechul looks like he’s concentrating almost too hard. Hankyung tugs his head up gently and kisses him again.
“We don’t have to,” he says firmly, and reaches down with one hand to pull his pants up. Heechul stills him swiftly.
“No,” Heechul says, looking suddenly younger but no less sure, “I want to, I do, it’s just,” he blushes slightly, looks off behind Hankyung’s left shoulder. Hankyung sits up straight, careful to keep Heechul from tumbling out of his lap.
“Have you--?” he starts, but Heechul fidgets embarrassedly and he has his answer. He kisses Heechul’s chest.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and then flinches as Heechul smacks him on the bicep, glaring. He rises up to his knees, Heechul’s legs wrapped tight around his waist, and settles back on the bed, Heechul pressed under him, and kisses him until the tension bleeds out of his body and his expression, and his hips are pushing up against Hankyung’s. “Let me do this for you,” he says, and strokes his hands up and down Heechul’s sides, soothing.
After that it’s a swirl of gasping and kissing and smiling, Heechul’s sweat on his skin and the smell of damp feathers.
Heechul wakes to the feel of gentle scratching along his wing bones, soft pressure smoothing his feathers. He cracks his eyes open and Hankyung is on his side watching him, looking ten times healthier than he had the night before, hair mussed from Heechul’s fingers and indents in his lips from Heechul’s teeth. His bad wing is hanging off the bed, but the other one is extended slightly, swaying gently in sync with their breathing. He smiles at Heechul’s awakening.
“I heard the others get up,” he says, and at his accent Heechul remembers murmuring of Chinese and begging in broken Korean, and his smile turns faintly leering. Hankyung laughs at him.
“You’re so easy,” he teases, rolling to his feet and offering a hand. Heechul ignores him, scoffing.
“You’re so smooth,” he says, mimicking Hankyung’s accent, “don’t you need a bedwarmer?” Hankyung flushes, and ignores him. Heechul sits up but doesn’t get out from under the sheets.
“Alright,” he announces, “you’re on the clock now, I want the skinny jeans from the second drawer and the black and grey shirt from the closet.” Hankyung turns to look at him, almost disbelieving, and Heechul raises an eyebrow.
“Hurry up,” he says, making little hand motions, “Eunhyuk will eat everything if we let him and I never decide on the first thing I try on.”
And if everything he wants to try on after that is in a lower drawer, well then that’s just an added bonus.