11. It’s easy to fill up the gaps, isn’t it?
Title: It’s easy to fill up the gaps, isn’t it?
For: yunsias
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: alcohol use, (rough) bathroom sex, girl!chanyeol, misunderstandings and pettiness
Summary: Jongdae isn’t too sure, but regardless, he’s being an asshole. Minseok is too nice.
The tension in the dressing room rises when Jongdae slips in. He stares into the mirror briefly making eye contact with the only other person there. Jongdae is being a brat.
He doesn’t want to give into Minseok.
“You’re not supposed to interact with the other groups competing against us,” Minseok teases, speaking to his own reflection, “we can’t win if we like them.”
Minseok keeps his face neutral.
“What do you call what you were doing with Dongwoo at that party last weekend then?” Jongdae’s tone in return is hard, allowing the tension to swallow him.
“We know each other, from when we were in school. And it’s called talking. Ever hear of that?”
Jongdae sighs loudly, dramatically. He ignores the elder, he opts to style his hair instead, admiring his reflection in the mirror. The club they’re performing at is old, but widely known for launching new artists into the underground scene. It’s hard, really fucking hard to get any kind of attention when there’s so many new bands being formed. Jongdae’s confident that they can beat the two other bands and win the contract with the record label.
It’s a small company they’d be signing with, but it’s one of the best. He bounces on the balls of his feet, letting the adrenaline he’d felt earlier from the crowd waiting outside rushing through him.
Jongdae wants this. He’s wanted this for as long as he remembers. His body aches with how close his dream is.
Their dream.
Because even though it’s been a long time since he and Minseok had stopped being good friends, he hates to admit that he misses them being close.
Jongdae knows Minseok wants this; he has big dreams too.
But so does Sehun, the bright eyed little (not really Sehun is fucking tall) bassist with the impish smirk when he plays, Chanmi with her dancing fingers--their lead guitarist.
And of course Jongdae who’s been training his voice since he discovered his talent for singing. Finally molding it to be able to croon lyrics--switching to screaming them when the tempo picks up.
Jongdae wants.
And he’s good, they’re good. He wants to see them on a stage with a room full of people enraptured by their performance. At the mercy of their lyrics, perfectly procured by Chanmi, and the way their instruments meld together. Their hearts drumming in tune to Minseok’s and Sehun’s skilled hands.
It’s not like they don’t have that now, they do; Jongdae wants their dream to be concrete.
He wishes he could stop feeling anger, dispel the bad feelings between himself and Minseok. (Actually more like him towards Minseok)
Jongdae just doesn’t know how, except that, he hates to admit it, it’s his fault entirely.
He’d gotten too drunk, too fast months ago. Fucking months, and he’d latched onto Minseok.
This was a usual occurrence, nothing new. Not at all.
But he’d pressed in too close, letting himself be pulled in by the electric touch and feel of Minseok’s heavy heavy gaze.
Nothing happened beyond that, and Jongdae knows that nothing would’ve happened.
At least with neither of them wanting to admit what they could be. Might be, if only, if only.
They’ve been eyeing the boundaries between them for a while now.
Jongdae is in love with his talent, and his dream.
He can’t be in love with Kim Minseok too.
Minseok is kind, but he doesn’t ever really push. He never asks for more than, never vocalizes.
There are times, when Jongdae turns around too fast, much quicker than needed, and he catches Minseok gaze.
It pricks at his skin.
Heavy heavy.
Jongdae is stubborn, he refuses to break--to let the thunderstorm he’s created around them cease to be, and Minseok is just as stubborn too. He’s frozen them over like this, but Jongdae wants him to break first.
He just doesn’t know how.
Jongdae wants to push Minseok to the edge.
He also kind of just wants things to be the way they were. Jongdae doesn’t deserve Minseok’s patience if he truly thinks about it. And it won’t be everlasting, this he knows.
He sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye now, watching Minseok gently apply eyeliner to his waterline, sharpening his cat like eyes further. He gently takes his pinky, tapping a red lipstick and smudging the product right in the middle of his lips.
Jongdae grumbles to himself until Minseok makes eye contact with him.
“Fuck you,” Jongdae murmurs.
“No thanks,” Minseok smirks when he walks out, leaving Jongdae alone.
He grumbles at his reflection, mussing up his hair. He keeps pushing pushing pushing.
“Why am I so damn antagonistic.”
---
The second band, the one Dongwoo is in, walks off stage, a cacophony of applause following them out.
Jongdae simmers in a spike of jealousy--only for an instant. He inhales through his nose, exhaling from his mouth. Once. twice, three times. He clamps a hand on Dongwoo’s shoulder, congratulating him.
“Good luck,” Dongwoo’s words barely heard over the roaring of the audience, they’re genuine.
Jongdae feels like shit.
Tenfold is the guilt that settles into his stomach as Sehun makes them gather around in a group hug, he towers over them with Chanmi. Minseok is so so small.
Chanmi fires them up with encouraging words, her eyes sparkling with a contagious excitement that lights them up from within.
Minseok squeezes Jongdae’s hand briefly--he is reassurance.
Jongdae is unmoving and persistent hard headedness. He looks away. It’s their turn to perform.
Behind the mic, Jongdae is transformed. His chest blooms under the hot blinding lights, transported to a different place.
First is Minseok’s drums, people start to chant their name, swooping in, entrancing the crowd. Sehun plucks at his bass, the foundation growing stronger when Chanmi adds a few tentative notes--
Jongdae croons out the opening lyrics, first verse meant to whisper along, building up slowly gently.
Louder and captivating, Jongdae’s voice is strong, spellbinding.
Enthralling as he performs, Jongdae presses into the stand, pulling out the mic as he throws his head back letting a particular note linger. They all transform into their own personas when they’re on stage, as if they’re in their own little world.
Chanmi is seductive, completely different from off stage, sweet smile promising as she caresses notes out of her instrument, pouring them into the amp, she leans heavily into Sehun. They tease the crowd, intimidate--Sehun glares, breaking it only with a smirk that has the crowd reacting when he turns his attention to Chanmi.
They play the game too well.
Jongdae falls into the routine, always finding Minseok, gravitating magnetized. Electric electric pull.
But this is different, he is performing.
Minseok throws his head back, eyes closed, hands working as if from muscle memory alone. Jongdae briefly notes the beads of sweat trickling from his temples, running down the pale column of his throat, mouthing along to the lyrics.
Jongdae wiggles behind him, punctuating the chorus with a gentle pull of Minseok’s black hair. Minseok opens his eyes slowly, lazily, as if being disturbed from a deep sleep.
Chanmi harmonizes with Jongdae in the next line.
The song is about missed connections and bittersweet longing, but it’s dirty when Jongdae whispers the first line of the last verse. He swipes a thumb under the swell of Minseok’s lip, bending down ghosting lyrics over heated skin.
“Want you to ruin me good,” Jongdae sings with conviction, words kissing the shell of Minseok’s ear. He snaps up, trance broken briefly before Jongdae launches them into the next song with a wail.
Jongdae is drunk off the energy, his veins are coursing with the headiness of the performance.
Minseok keeps his eyes on him during their second song.
Heavy heavy.
Pulling Jongdae apart slowly.
---
The after party takes place in a large open space above the venue; its swirling with smoke, heavy of tobacco and something that makes Jongdae just a tiny bit giddy. It might just be the happiness of having had won.
It’s probably that.
He downs an ice cold beer, a second one is pressed into his hand by Sehun.
“Hyung,” he begins, sleepy eyes trained on Jongdae, his earlier smile gone, “you need to talk to Minseok.”
“Why should I do that?” He sinks deeper into the couch, “I don’t have anything special to say.”
Sehun rolls his eyes, running a hand through auburn locks. He fingers the the opening of his own beer bottle, “He isn’t like you, he’s not confrontational--”
“You don’t think I know that? We’ve known each other for--”
“Hyung,” Sehun stops him, “shut up. You two were always best friends. I know. It’s been like ten years. I get it. But you’re being a huge fucking dick okay?”
“I know,” Jongdae mumbles.
“Then fix it. You’re being toxic. And Minseok won’t always stick around,” Sehun’s eyes crinkle in a soft smile, “He likes you too. But you’re too caught up in being a jerk, you don’t realize it.” He punches Jongdae softly in the arm before getting up and wandering around.
Jongdae watches him be pounced by a guy that looks like he’s more adept to kicking ass than coercing Sehun into giving him a piggyback ride.
Guilty guilty.
Stone heavy guilt.
Minseok has been a permanent fixture in Jongdae’s life. Familiar. He likes the lilt of Minseok’s voice, how it seems to rise and fall easily, his soft voice singing when they used to drive around the neighborhood, sharp eyebrows punctuating his surprise. Jongdae especially loves his crooked smile. The left side of his lip pulling up more, pink gums and small teeth. Jongdae can pick him out from a room full of people, easily.
But Jongdae doesn’t want to do this.
They’ve known each other for too long, braces and changing voices, framed diplomas, college exams--moving out on their own. First loves and heartbreak.
He wants Minseok to open up, be the one that confesses. Heart on his sleeve, open and exposed.
He laughs to himself. Jongdae decides to go around and mingle, share in the pleasant ambiance and good music. He doesn’t want to wallow.
The band playing is the one Dongwoo’s in; they didn’t win, but Jongdae knows they’ll probably be picked up up by another label.
They’re just as good, and ambitious too.
Jongdae’s bandmates are wrapped up in their own conversations, and he gets pulled into his own. Happy friendly faces, hugs and kisses.
He drinks two more beers. A shot of vodka too.
He feels warm.
Jongdae finds himself backed into a corner when Liyin gets paired with him in a drunken game of spin the bottle.
“Aren’t we too old for this?” Jongdae mumbles as she kisses up his throat. She’s insistent. Jongdae thinks about how nice her hair is.
“Doesn’t matter, it’s fun,” she says huskily when she presses in closer.
“Ah.”
Jongdae smiles apologetically when she pulls away disappointed. She’s pretty.
Jongdae’s overwhelmed with the need to get away. The room starts to spin a little bit too much.
He needs to drink some water.
Jongdae pushes into the only bathroom, it’s dimly lit, the walls painted a deep blood red. The color barely visible behind the layers of graffiti. The light flickers slightly, but it illuminates the haziness from any smoke that’s seeped inside from under the door. Jongdae turns the tap on, splashing water onto his face, before scooping some into his mouth. He swallows--ice cold, jarring, but it soothes his throat. Clears his head.
He’s laughing when he spots the words punx only, fuck the rest written in sharpie, because it reminds him of being thirteen.
There’s a loud knock on the door and a too familiar voice asking if he’s finished.
“Hey--” Minseok is standing with his hand midair, poised to knock again when Jongdae pulls it open.
“Hey,” Jongdae says, catching Minseok off guard, there isn’t any bite in his voice.
“I can come back--”
“Ah, no, I was just trying to get away for a little bit.”
Minseok bites his lip, “Me too.”
Jongdae counts five beats before holding the door open.
Minseok is good at hiding his surprise, but he catches the brief lift of his eyebrows.
Minseok is sitting on the side of the sink, reading the various scrawling on the walls. He laughs quietly, half of his lip lifts higher, crooked, perfect smile.
Jongdae breaks first.
He pushes away from the wall, making Minseok’s knees bracket his waist.
“I suck,” he lacks eloquence.
“You do,” Minseok agrees.
“I don’t deserve your friendship.”
“You really don’t,” he teases.
“I’m sorry,” Jongdae says finally.
“I don’t even know what for Jongdae,” Minseok makes eye contact, “we’ve just been out of tune with one another.”
“I just want to kiss you,” Jongdae finally admits, whispers it.
This isn’t fair.
“I wasn’t so sure anymore,” Minseok whispers, much too close. Suffocatingly close, enticing and right there.
“I just I--”
“You suck, I know, remember?” Minseok sucks on his lip, “ I just don’t know if I can forgive you.”
He trails his fingers down Jongdae’s throat, pulling at the neck of his white shirt. There’s a change in Minseok’s demeanor. His lids heavier, eyes darker, but they promise him too much. Minseok is careful, meticulous in the brushing of his his hands.
Minseok is small, but his presence is vast. A tremendous thundering force that ravages him with a glance.
He’s also a fucking tease. The slide of his lips against his own is filthy from the beginning. Minseok is consuming him. In contrast, his touches are fluttering, hands flitting away when he drags a gasp from Jongdae.
He pushes in closer, feeling Minseok’s legs wrap around his waist. Jongdae runs his hands under Minseok’s old band shirt. The same one Jongdae gifted him in high school.
A millenia ago now.
The flex of his shoulder blades and bend of his spine has Jongdae pushing Minseok’s shirt up.
“I want to go down on you,” Jongdae gasps, “I want you to fuck into my mouth, please.”
Minseok makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.
One point for Kim Jongdae,he thinks smugly.
He opens the top button of Minseok’s leather pants, pushing down slightly until his cock is out. Sharp black lines peek out from under his boxers. Jongdae inspects the juncture of his thigh and pelvis.
“You can look at it next time,” Minseok says guiding Jongdae down.
Next time.
There’s a softness that glimmers in Minseok’s eyes, briefly. Shyly.
It’s a promise.
For later.
Jongdae is resolutely distraught.
Minseok’s dick is a pretty pink color, his mouth a smeared angry red from earlier. Jongdae takes him whole, the musky taste making him throb with need.
Jongdae doesn’t want to tease, he wants Minseok undone. Completely devastated, writhing just for him.
The hunger is apparent in the way he bobs his head, sucks unapologetically slurping.
“Fuck,” Minseok pulls at Jongdae’s hair, “Jongdae you’re going to make--”
Minseok’s mouth twists prettily when Jongdae drags his teeth along his length as he pops his mouth off.
“You were saying?” Jongdae says before mouthing at his balls, licking teasingly as his entrance.
“I never--” Minseok huffs when Jongdae licks a thick stripe up the length of his cock, “I never did anything, because--”
Jongdae moans around Minseok, a finger pressing in, curving delicately.
“Just fuck me now,” he gasps, a shudder alluding to his orgasm.
Minseok has more control over his body than Jongdae with his own. He can feel the rough drag of his boxers on his own erection, the zipper pressing uncomfortably so. Minseok almost glares at him, instead coolly pulling Jongdae’s gray jeans down low enough to briefly pinch his ass.
“Cute,” Minseok teases briefly, watching Jongdae’s dick twitch slightly. Jongdae ignores the heat on his cheeks.
He feels exposed now, too open under Minseok’s eyes.
“I don’t have a condom--” Jongdae begins, he feels his eyebrows pull together, “we can just...” He doesn’t want Minseok to be uncomfortable.
Minseok presses their foreheads together, “I know you better than anyone else,” he’s breathing hard, “I just...its okay.”
“We don’t, let me--” Jongdae trails off when Minseok presses his mouth into his own.
He promises Jongdae too much, with the slick slide of their lips and scraping of teeth. Minseok does the claiming.
He pulls away spitting on his fingers, before working himself open quickly.
“Come on baby,” Minseok destroys Jongdae easily.
Jongdae obeys, but Minseok still has his pants on. He pushes them down a little further, nearly folding him in half when he hooks Minseok’s legs onto his shoulders, and around his neck. Coincidentally, Minseok ends up pushed further onto the counter, head pressed into the mirror. Jongdae bending over when he finally pushes into him.
Jongdae is loud by nature, and now is no different. He doesn’t bother being embarrassed when he gasps out Minseok’s name, clamping his mouth onto his shoulder. Minseok urges him to go faster and harder biting much too hard, but oh so deliciously, along his throat.
Jongdae lets his hips bruise as he pumps into him just like Minseok demands. He takes Minseok into his hand, the other coming up to cup the back of his neck as Jongdae presses their foreheads together. Minseok clenches hotly around him.
He pulls out suddenly, pumping quickly when he comes thickly on Minseok’s stomach where he’s pushed up his shirt. Jongdae manages to bite back his groan.
“Suck me off,” Minseok breathes as he fingers the cooling come on his stomach.
Jongdae thanks his flexibility that allows him to bend far enough to lick lightly at the precome that’s gathered at the slit. He sucks at the tip of Minseok’s cock, pulling gently at his balls, a teasing finger circling his entrance before Minseok comes. He whimpers quietly, turning his head away from Jongdae. He resists the urge to run his hands over Minseok’s abdomen, down his thighs.
He unhooks Minseok’s legs, gently lowering them before grabbing a few towels to clean them both off.
“As your hyung,” Minseok says sliding off the counter and zipping up his jeans, “you need to buy me dinner. You can buy me a coffee too, or invite me over for wine. Either works.”
Jongdae loses his chance to finally get a good look at Minseok’s tattoo.
“When did you get that?” He points belatedly at Minseok’s hip.
“Last year, I just never told you,” Minseok easily says, pecking him on the lips before tucking Jongdae back into his pants. He pats Jongdae’s butt gently, smirking at him.
Jongdae is only an inch or two taller than him.
When they walk out of the bathroom, there’s a chorus of whooping and wolf whistles. Minseok acts completely blasé to the entire exchange, wandering over to Sehun who nuzzles into the older boy. Probably trying to wheedle words of praise from Minseok. He’s the one that talked to Jongdae, after all. (Jongdae can tell Sehun’s being smug.)
He’s the one that smirks this time from across the room when he makes eye contact with Minseok.
There’s that crooked smile that Jongdae loves so much.
He thinks there’s something else he can give room to love, fill in the spaces.
---
Author’s Note: title taken from the song "untitled" by gazettE. inspired by this, this, and THIS. i feel like i deviated from the feel the prompter wanted. i hope this was enjoyable.
For: yunsias
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: alcohol use, (rough) bathroom sex, girl!chanyeol, misunderstandings and pettiness
Summary: Jongdae isn’t too sure, but regardless, he’s being an asshole. Minseok is too nice.
The tension in the dressing room rises when Jongdae slips in. He stares into the mirror briefly making eye contact with the only other person there. Jongdae is being a brat.
He doesn’t want to give into Minseok.
“You’re not supposed to interact with the other groups competing against us,” Minseok teases, speaking to his own reflection, “we can’t win if we like them.”
Minseok keeps his face neutral.
“What do you call what you were doing with Dongwoo at that party last weekend then?” Jongdae’s tone in return is hard, allowing the tension to swallow him.
“We know each other, from when we were in school. And it’s called talking. Ever hear of that?”
Jongdae sighs loudly, dramatically. He ignores the elder, he opts to style his hair instead, admiring his reflection in the mirror. The club they’re performing at is old, but widely known for launching new artists into the underground scene. It’s hard, really fucking hard to get any kind of attention when there’s so many new bands being formed. Jongdae’s confident that they can beat the two other bands and win the contract with the record label.
It’s a small company they’d be signing with, but it’s one of the best. He bounces on the balls of his feet, letting the adrenaline he’d felt earlier from the crowd waiting outside rushing through him.
Jongdae wants this. He’s wanted this for as long as he remembers. His body aches with how close his dream is.
Their dream.
Because even though it’s been a long time since he and Minseok had stopped being good friends, he hates to admit that he misses them being close.
Jongdae knows Minseok wants this; he has big dreams too.
But so does Sehun, the bright eyed little (not really Sehun is fucking tall) bassist with the impish smirk when he plays, Chanmi with her dancing fingers--their lead guitarist.
And of course Jongdae who’s been training his voice since he discovered his talent for singing. Finally molding it to be able to croon lyrics--switching to screaming them when the tempo picks up.
Jongdae wants.
And he’s good, they’re good. He wants to see them on a stage with a room full of people enraptured by their performance. At the mercy of their lyrics, perfectly procured by Chanmi, and the way their instruments meld together. Their hearts drumming in tune to Minseok’s and Sehun’s skilled hands.
It’s not like they don’t have that now, they do; Jongdae wants their dream to be concrete.
He wishes he could stop feeling anger, dispel the bad feelings between himself and Minseok. (Actually more like him towards Minseok)
Jongdae just doesn’t know how, except that, he hates to admit it, it’s his fault entirely.
He’d gotten too drunk, too fast months ago. Fucking months, and he’d latched onto Minseok.
This was a usual occurrence, nothing new. Not at all.
But he’d pressed in too close, letting himself be pulled in by the electric touch and feel of Minseok’s heavy heavy gaze.
Nothing happened beyond that, and Jongdae knows that nothing would’ve happened.
At least with neither of them wanting to admit what they could be. Might be, if only, if only.
They’ve been eyeing the boundaries between them for a while now.
Jongdae is in love with his talent, and his dream.
He can’t be in love with Kim Minseok too.
Minseok is kind, but he doesn’t ever really push. He never asks for more than, never vocalizes.
There are times, when Jongdae turns around too fast, much quicker than needed, and he catches Minseok gaze.
It pricks at his skin.
Heavy heavy.
Jongdae is stubborn, he refuses to break--to let the thunderstorm he’s created around them cease to be, and Minseok is just as stubborn too. He’s frozen them over like this, but Jongdae wants him to break first.
He just doesn’t know how.
Jongdae wants to push Minseok to the edge.
He also kind of just wants things to be the way they were. Jongdae doesn’t deserve Minseok’s patience if he truly thinks about it. And it won’t be everlasting, this he knows.
He sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye now, watching Minseok gently apply eyeliner to his waterline, sharpening his cat like eyes further. He gently takes his pinky, tapping a red lipstick and smudging the product right in the middle of his lips.
Jongdae grumbles to himself until Minseok makes eye contact with him.
“Fuck you,” Jongdae murmurs.
“No thanks,” Minseok smirks when he walks out, leaving Jongdae alone.
He grumbles at his reflection, mussing up his hair. He keeps pushing pushing pushing.
“Why am I so damn antagonistic.”
---
The second band, the one Dongwoo is in, walks off stage, a cacophony of applause following them out.
Jongdae simmers in a spike of jealousy--only for an instant. He inhales through his nose, exhaling from his mouth. Once. twice, three times. He clamps a hand on Dongwoo’s shoulder, congratulating him.
“Good luck,” Dongwoo’s words barely heard over the roaring of the audience, they’re genuine.
Jongdae feels like shit.
Tenfold is the guilt that settles into his stomach as Sehun makes them gather around in a group hug, he towers over them with Chanmi. Minseok is so so small.
Chanmi fires them up with encouraging words, her eyes sparkling with a contagious excitement that lights them up from within.
Minseok squeezes Jongdae’s hand briefly--he is reassurance.
Jongdae is unmoving and persistent hard headedness. He looks away. It’s their turn to perform.
Behind the mic, Jongdae is transformed. His chest blooms under the hot blinding lights, transported to a different place.
First is Minseok’s drums, people start to chant their name, swooping in, entrancing the crowd. Sehun plucks at his bass, the foundation growing stronger when Chanmi adds a few tentative notes--
Jongdae croons out the opening lyrics, first verse meant to whisper along, building up slowly gently.
Louder and captivating, Jongdae’s voice is strong, spellbinding.
Enthralling as he performs, Jongdae presses into the stand, pulling out the mic as he throws his head back letting a particular note linger. They all transform into their own personas when they’re on stage, as if they’re in their own little world.
Chanmi is seductive, completely different from off stage, sweet smile promising as she caresses notes out of her instrument, pouring them into the amp, she leans heavily into Sehun. They tease the crowd, intimidate--Sehun glares, breaking it only with a smirk that has the crowd reacting when he turns his attention to Chanmi.
They play the game too well.
Jongdae falls into the routine, always finding Minseok, gravitating magnetized. Electric electric pull.
But this is different, he is performing.
Minseok throws his head back, eyes closed, hands working as if from muscle memory alone. Jongdae briefly notes the beads of sweat trickling from his temples, running down the pale column of his throat, mouthing along to the lyrics.
Jongdae wiggles behind him, punctuating the chorus with a gentle pull of Minseok’s black hair. Minseok opens his eyes slowly, lazily, as if being disturbed from a deep sleep.
Chanmi harmonizes with Jongdae in the next line.
The song is about missed connections and bittersweet longing, but it’s dirty when Jongdae whispers the first line of the last verse. He swipes a thumb under the swell of Minseok’s lip, bending down ghosting lyrics over heated skin.
“Want you to ruin me good,” Jongdae sings with conviction, words kissing the shell of Minseok’s ear. He snaps up, trance broken briefly before Jongdae launches them into the next song with a wail.
Jongdae is drunk off the energy, his veins are coursing with the headiness of the performance.
Minseok keeps his eyes on him during their second song.
Heavy heavy.
Pulling Jongdae apart slowly.
---
The after party takes place in a large open space above the venue; its swirling with smoke, heavy of tobacco and something that makes Jongdae just a tiny bit giddy. It might just be the happiness of having had won.
It’s probably that.
He downs an ice cold beer, a second one is pressed into his hand by Sehun.
“Hyung,” he begins, sleepy eyes trained on Jongdae, his earlier smile gone, “you need to talk to Minseok.”
“Why should I do that?” He sinks deeper into the couch, “I don’t have anything special to say.”
Sehun rolls his eyes, running a hand through auburn locks. He fingers the the opening of his own beer bottle, “He isn’t like you, he’s not confrontational--”
“You don’t think I know that? We’ve known each other for--”
“Hyung,” Sehun stops him, “shut up. You two were always best friends. I know. It’s been like ten years. I get it. But you’re being a huge fucking dick okay?”
“I know,” Jongdae mumbles.
“Then fix it. You’re being toxic. And Minseok won’t always stick around,” Sehun’s eyes crinkle in a soft smile, “He likes you too. But you’re too caught up in being a jerk, you don’t realize it.” He punches Jongdae softly in the arm before getting up and wandering around.
Jongdae watches him be pounced by a guy that looks like he’s more adept to kicking ass than coercing Sehun into giving him a piggyback ride.
Guilty guilty.
Stone heavy guilt.
Minseok has been a permanent fixture in Jongdae’s life. Familiar. He likes the lilt of Minseok’s voice, how it seems to rise and fall easily, his soft voice singing when they used to drive around the neighborhood, sharp eyebrows punctuating his surprise. Jongdae especially loves his crooked smile. The left side of his lip pulling up more, pink gums and small teeth. Jongdae can pick him out from a room full of people, easily.
But Jongdae doesn’t want to do this.
They’ve known each other for too long, braces and changing voices, framed diplomas, college exams--moving out on their own. First loves and heartbreak.
He wants Minseok to open up, be the one that confesses. Heart on his sleeve, open and exposed.
He laughs to himself. Jongdae decides to go around and mingle, share in the pleasant ambiance and good music. He doesn’t want to wallow.
The band playing is the one Dongwoo’s in; they didn’t win, but Jongdae knows they’ll probably be picked up up by another label.
They’re just as good, and ambitious too.
Jongdae’s bandmates are wrapped up in their own conversations, and he gets pulled into his own. Happy friendly faces, hugs and kisses.
He drinks two more beers. A shot of vodka too.
He feels warm.
Jongdae finds himself backed into a corner when Liyin gets paired with him in a drunken game of spin the bottle.
“Aren’t we too old for this?” Jongdae mumbles as she kisses up his throat. She’s insistent. Jongdae thinks about how nice her hair is.
“Doesn’t matter, it’s fun,” she says huskily when she presses in closer.
“Ah.”
Jongdae smiles apologetically when she pulls away disappointed. She’s pretty.
Jongdae’s overwhelmed with the need to get away. The room starts to spin a little bit too much.
He needs to drink some water.
Jongdae pushes into the only bathroom, it’s dimly lit, the walls painted a deep blood red. The color barely visible behind the layers of graffiti. The light flickers slightly, but it illuminates the haziness from any smoke that’s seeped inside from under the door. Jongdae turns the tap on, splashing water onto his face, before scooping some into his mouth. He swallows--ice cold, jarring, but it soothes his throat. Clears his head.
He’s laughing when he spots the words punx only, fuck the rest written in sharpie, because it reminds him of being thirteen.
There’s a loud knock on the door and a too familiar voice asking if he’s finished.
“Hey--” Minseok is standing with his hand midair, poised to knock again when Jongdae pulls it open.
“Hey,” Jongdae says, catching Minseok off guard, there isn’t any bite in his voice.
“I can come back--”
“Ah, no, I was just trying to get away for a little bit.”
Minseok bites his lip, “Me too.”
Jongdae counts five beats before holding the door open.
Minseok is good at hiding his surprise, but he catches the brief lift of his eyebrows.
Minseok is sitting on the side of the sink, reading the various scrawling on the walls. He laughs quietly, half of his lip lifts higher, crooked, perfect smile.
Jongdae breaks first.
He pushes away from the wall, making Minseok’s knees bracket his waist.
“I suck,” he lacks eloquence.
“You do,” Minseok agrees.
“I don’t deserve your friendship.”
“You really don’t,” he teases.
“I’m sorry,” Jongdae says finally.
“I don’t even know what for Jongdae,” Minseok makes eye contact, “we’ve just been out of tune with one another.”
“I just want to kiss you,” Jongdae finally admits, whispers it.
This isn’t fair.
“I wasn’t so sure anymore,” Minseok whispers, much too close. Suffocatingly close, enticing and right there.
“I just I--”
“You suck, I know, remember?” Minseok sucks on his lip, “ I just don’t know if I can forgive you.”
He trails his fingers down Jongdae’s throat, pulling at the neck of his white shirt. There’s a change in Minseok’s demeanor. His lids heavier, eyes darker, but they promise him too much. Minseok is careful, meticulous in the brushing of his his hands.
Minseok is small, but his presence is vast. A tremendous thundering force that ravages him with a glance.
He’s also a fucking tease. The slide of his lips against his own is filthy from the beginning. Minseok is consuming him. In contrast, his touches are fluttering, hands flitting away when he drags a gasp from Jongdae.
He pushes in closer, feeling Minseok’s legs wrap around his waist. Jongdae runs his hands under Minseok’s old band shirt. The same one Jongdae gifted him in high school.
A millenia ago now.
The flex of his shoulder blades and bend of his spine has Jongdae pushing Minseok’s shirt up.
“I want to go down on you,” Jongdae gasps, “I want you to fuck into my mouth, please.”
Minseok makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.
One point for Kim Jongdae,he thinks smugly.
He opens the top button of Minseok’s leather pants, pushing down slightly until his cock is out. Sharp black lines peek out from under his boxers. Jongdae inspects the juncture of his thigh and pelvis.
“You can look at it next time,” Minseok says guiding Jongdae down.
Next time.
There’s a softness that glimmers in Minseok’s eyes, briefly. Shyly.
It’s a promise.
For later.
Jongdae is resolutely distraught.
Minseok’s dick is a pretty pink color, his mouth a smeared angry red from earlier. Jongdae takes him whole, the musky taste making him throb with need.
Jongdae doesn’t want to tease, he wants Minseok undone. Completely devastated, writhing just for him.
The hunger is apparent in the way he bobs his head, sucks unapologetically slurping.
“Fuck,” Minseok pulls at Jongdae’s hair, “Jongdae you’re going to make--”
Minseok’s mouth twists prettily when Jongdae drags his teeth along his length as he pops his mouth off.
“You were saying?” Jongdae says before mouthing at his balls, licking teasingly as his entrance.
“I never--” Minseok huffs when Jongdae licks a thick stripe up the length of his cock, “I never did anything, because--”
Jongdae moans around Minseok, a finger pressing in, curving delicately.
“Just fuck me now,” he gasps, a shudder alluding to his orgasm.
Minseok has more control over his body than Jongdae with his own. He can feel the rough drag of his boxers on his own erection, the zipper pressing uncomfortably so. Minseok almost glares at him, instead coolly pulling Jongdae’s gray jeans down low enough to briefly pinch his ass.
“Cute,” Minseok teases briefly, watching Jongdae’s dick twitch slightly. Jongdae ignores the heat on his cheeks.
He feels exposed now, too open under Minseok’s eyes.
“I don’t have a condom--” Jongdae begins, he feels his eyebrows pull together, “we can just...” He doesn’t want Minseok to be uncomfortable.
Minseok presses their foreheads together, “I know you better than anyone else,” he’s breathing hard, “I just...its okay.”
“We don’t, let me--” Jongdae trails off when Minseok presses his mouth into his own.
He promises Jongdae too much, with the slick slide of their lips and scraping of teeth. Minseok does the claiming.
He pulls away spitting on his fingers, before working himself open quickly.
“Come on baby,” Minseok destroys Jongdae easily.
Jongdae obeys, but Minseok still has his pants on. He pushes them down a little further, nearly folding him in half when he hooks Minseok’s legs onto his shoulders, and around his neck. Coincidentally, Minseok ends up pushed further onto the counter, head pressed into the mirror. Jongdae bending over when he finally pushes into him.
Jongdae is loud by nature, and now is no different. He doesn’t bother being embarrassed when he gasps out Minseok’s name, clamping his mouth onto his shoulder. Minseok urges him to go faster and harder biting much too hard, but oh so deliciously, along his throat.
Jongdae lets his hips bruise as he pumps into him just like Minseok demands. He takes Minseok into his hand, the other coming up to cup the back of his neck as Jongdae presses their foreheads together. Minseok clenches hotly around him.
He pulls out suddenly, pumping quickly when he comes thickly on Minseok’s stomach where he’s pushed up his shirt. Jongdae manages to bite back his groan.
“Suck me off,” Minseok breathes as he fingers the cooling come on his stomach.
Jongdae thanks his flexibility that allows him to bend far enough to lick lightly at the precome that’s gathered at the slit. He sucks at the tip of Minseok’s cock, pulling gently at his balls, a teasing finger circling his entrance before Minseok comes. He whimpers quietly, turning his head away from Jongdae. He resists the urge to run his hands over Minseok’s abdomen, down his thighs.
He unhooks Minseok’s legs, gently lowering them before grabbing a few towels to clean them both off.
“As your hyung,” Minseok says sliding off the counter and zipping up his jeans, “you need to buy me dinner. You can buy me a coffee too, or invite me over for wine. Either works.”
Jongdae loses his chance to finally get a good look at Minseok’s tattoo.
“When did you get that?” He points belatedly at Minseok’s hip.
“Last year, I just never told you,” Minseok easily says, pecking him on the lips before tucking Jongdae back into his pants. He pats Jongdae’s butt gently, smirking at him.
Jongdae is only an inch or two taller than him.
When they walk out of the bathroom, there’s a chorus of whooping and wolf whistles. Minseok acts completely blasé to the entire exchange, wandering over to Sehun who nuzzles into the older boy. Probably trying to wheedle words of praise from Minseok. He’s the one that talked to Jongdae, after all. (Jongdae can tell Sehun’s being smug.)
He’s the one that smirks this time from across the room when he makes eye contact with Minseok.
There’s that crooked smile that Jongdae loves so much.
He thinks there’s something else he can give room to love, fill in the spaces.
---
Author’s Note: title taken from the song "untitled" by gazettE. inspired by this, this, and THIS. i feel like i deviated from the feel the prompter wanted. i hope this was enjoyable.
