Chains Come Undone; JaeChun (response to flashfic challenge 3: wishbone)
Title: Chains Come Undone
Author: Reeza (aoireeza)
Word count: 852 words
Concrit?: sure. :D
Pairing: ChunJae, JaeMin
Rating: PG-16
Summary: JaeJoong leaves just as soon as he comes. YooChun lights his cigarette. (for dbsk_flashfic @ flashfic challenge 3: wishbone)
You’re a tainted soul.
You’ve got a cigarette lit in between your fingers, and you’re half-way through the entire thing. You bring it close to your lips, take a long drag and fill your nostrils and throat with smoke until you are well sure you are not able to breathe and let it out - you’ve gotten yourself into trouble. You put the cigarette down, let it drop on the cool asphalt and you step on it. The light goes away and you see a line of smoke before your eyes.
Didn’t leave me some. A voice from behind you calls and you turn around; you blink in acknowledgement of the person. Didn’t tell me you were coming. The person chuckles, hides his smile behind his hand. Go get me one. You owe me. And you do.
You’ve got yourself screwed this time around. He’s taken a huge liking to cigarette’s and he blames you for it - I always hang around you and yeah, I know it’s my choice but- You cut him off before he could dig in you deeper, stuff a stick in his mouth and he instinctively grabs the lighter in your pocket. You burst into laughter when he stops speaking.
I’ll find a pure soul and keep him away from you - keep him pure. You laugh all the more when he tells you that, and you shake your head. You’ll always be sticking with me. He nods thoughtfully, smiles and forgets to hide it behind his hand. He lets you in for the first time. Just you wait and see.
You laugh to hide the fact that you are convinced that he’ll be able to find his pure soul.
He gets you down on your knees when he begs you to get him laid, and you tell him that you’ll start off slow - a blowjob first. Let’s not rush; you might be overwhelmed when we get to doing it already. You’d like to think he’s grateful that you told him that, but maybe you’d much entertain the thought of him liking everything. You suck hard, do a couple of tricks that you’ve never shown anyone else - only him, he’s the only one. You don’t ask him why he asked for things, and he doesn’t tell.
You let your teeth graze lightly on his skin and he throws his head back. It’s the first time you see the entirety of his features.
He is beautiful, and you think, you just think, he’s got you smitten.
(You think you hear him explain to you the reason behind his sudden course of actions when he snuggles close to you afterwards, but, you muse, he might just be mumbling - maybe even how good it had been.
You chuckle to yourself and take him in your arms. He fits in you so perfectly, the both of you to the blanket you slipped under, and the white sheets to the shadows that the dim city lights and the moon have made possible.)
He gets you feigning nonchalance when he passes you by - more like runs past you and to someone else - one day; he’s off to meet someone. Your eyes follow him and you take notice of the lovely smile on his lips. It gets you everytime. You want to stretch your hand out to him and grab him by the wrist, pin him on the wall like you used to and crush your lips into his like you never have before - you are used to treating him like a princess because he is, and he is your princess.
You turn your heel and listen to your footsteps so closely, listen to the sound of his laughter not so far away - it resonates in your ears.
He’ll go looking for you tomorrow, you’re certain.
You’ve got yourself all cozy in a corner, having your ample dose of cigarettes for the day when you hear him call your name - he calls you in a voice too shrill for your liking, and you drown yourself in the pitch of his voice; you might as well be called insane.
He snatches your cigarette from you and takes a long drag, closes his eyes when he does so and holds his breath for a moment. He lets the air out, hands you back your cigarette. He smiles. That’s the last time I’m doing that.
You hear footsteps and see a fine, young lad standing behind him - this man is tall; you could only imagine the great difference between his height and this man’s. He smiles and so does this man. You drop your stick, step on it. The line of smoke reflects in his eyes.
You admit to the sin you’ve committed, but you don’t admit that you’ve fallen for him, hard and fast with no one to cushion your fall. You let laughter escape your lips. So this is your pure soul.
Without another word, you turn around, fish a stick from your pocket and your lighter. You light the cigarette. You could go on like this all day.
The pure soul has taken him away from you.
Author: Reeza (aoireeza)
Word count: 852 words
Concrit?: sure. :D
Pairing: ChunJae, JaeMin
Rating: PG-16
Summary: JaeJoong leaves just as soon as he comes. YooChun lights his cigarette. (for dbsk_flashfic @ flashfic challenge 3: wishbone)
You’re a tainted soul.
You’ve got a cigarette lit in between your fingers, and you’re half-way through the entire thing. You bring it close to your lips, take a long drag and fill your nostrils and throat with smoke until you are well sure you are not able to breathe and let it out - you’ve gotten yourself into trouble. You put the cigarette down, let it drop on the cool asphalt and you step on it. The light goes away and you see a line of smoke before your eyes.
Didn’t leave me some. A voice from behind you calls and you turn around; you blink in acknowledgement of the person. Didn’t tell me you were coming. The person chuckles, hides his smile behind his hand. Go get me one. You owe me. And you do.
You’ve got yourself screwed this time around. He’s taken a huge liking to cigarette’s and he blames you for it - I always hang around you and yeah, I know it’s my choice but- You cut him off before he could dig in you deeper, stuff a stick in his mouth and he instinctively grabs the lighter in your pocket. You burst into laughter when he stops speaking.
I’ll find a pure soul and keep him away from you - keep him pure. You laugh all the more when he tells you that, and you shake your head. You’ll always be sticking with me. He nods thoughtfully, smiles and forgets to hide it behind his hand. He lets you in for the first time. Just you wait and see.
You laugh to hide the fact that you are convinced that he’ll be able to find his pure soul.
He gets you down on your knees when he begs you to get him laid, and you tell him that you’ll start off slow - a blowjob first. Let’s not rush; you might be overwhelmed when we get to doing it already. You’d like to think he’s grateful that you told him that, but maybe you’d much entertain the thought of him liking everything. You suck hard, do a couple of tricks that you’ve never shown anyone else - only him, he’s the only one. You don’t ask him why he asked for things, and he doesn’t tell.
You let your teeth graze lightly on his skin and he throws his head back. It’s the first time you see the entirety of his features.
He is beautiful, and you think, you just think, he’s got you smitten.
(You think you hear him explain to you the reason behind his sudden course of actions when he snuggles close to you afterwards, but, you muse, he might just be mumbling - maybe even how good it had been.
You chuckle to yourself and take him in your arms. He fits in you so perfectly, the both of you to the blanket you slipped under, and the white sheets to the shadows that the dim city lights and the moon have made possible.)
He gets you feigning nonchalance when he passes you by - more like runs past you and to someone else - one day; he’s off to meet someone. Your eyes follow him and you take notice of the lovely smile on his lips. It gets you everytime. You want to stretch your hand out to him and grab him by the wrist, pin him on the wall like you used to and crush your lips into his like you never have before - you are used to treating him like a princess because he is, and he is your princess.
You turn your heel and listen to your footsteps so closely, listen to the sound of his laughter not so far away - it resonates in your ears.
He’ll go looking for you tomorrow, you’re certain.
You’ve got yourself all cozy in a corner, having your ample dose of cigarettes for the day when you hear him call your name - he calls you in a voice too shrill for your liking, and you drown yourself in the pitch of his voice; you might as well be called insane.
He snatches your cigarette from you and takes a long drag, closes his eyes when he does so and holds his breath for a moment. He lets the air out, hands you back your cigarette. He smiles. That’s the last time I’m doing that.
You hear footsteps and see a fine, young lad standing behind him - this man is tall; you could only imagine the great difference between his height and this man’s. He smiles and so does this man. You drop your stick, step on it. The line of smoke reflects in his eyes.
You admit to the sin you’ve committed, but you don’t admit that you’ve fallen for him, hard and fast with no one to cushion your fall. You let laughter escape your lips. So this is your pure soul.
Without another word, you turn around, fish a stick from your pocket and your lighter. You light the cigarette. You could go on like this all day.
The pure soul has taken him away from you.