Wine Tasting
Wine Tasting
In China, Kyuhyun finds it’s all about sharp lines and angles. The stark hotel rooms, coupled with his long limbs, give the entire event a feeling of rushed roughness. It’s harsh and fast like wine that is bitter and bites on his tongue but settles well in the pit of his stomach. The language that he pretends to know nothing of, he understands enough to decipher the meaning of the breathy syllables during and the soft murmurs afterward, amid the tangle of limbs.
In Korea, Kyuhyun finds that it is soft lines and rounded curves. His room is home, or as close and he will get in the next few years, and it gives the entire event a feeling of comforting tenderness. It’s slow and sensual, like wine that sits heavily on his tongue and curls warm in the pit of his stomach. The language that he has grown up with isn’t necessary to understand the needy groans during or the quiet murmurs after, amid the mingling of breath.
Kyuhyun isn’t sure if his Chinese wine and his Korean wine know of each other. It isn’t as though he has really worked hard to keep them a secret from each other. In fact, if they asked, he would tell them, but they never asked so he never told. If he had been pressed to choose between the two, he would have never been able to.
When they are in Japan he doesn’t expect to discover a new wine or to sample either of the old. He is surprised, one night after a show, to discover his two favorite wines mingling together in his room. Kyuhyun instantly finds himself torn between watching the sharp mix with the soft or moving over and sampling both together. A whispered moaning version of his name first in one language and then the other, make up his mind for him. He goes to them then, pulled by some compulsion that he can’t resist.
Chinese and Korean wash over him spreading the bite and the warmth, until one blurs into the other. The limbs meld until angles and curves become one complete form with him in the middle of it all. He loses himself to it then, to the mix of spoken language and a language that needs no words. He murmurs their names, his Chinese wine and his Korean wine, but he can’t seem to figure out which is responsible for what sensation within him and when he is taken over completely and the world seems to explode from within, he wonders if it is possible to overdose on wine.
The tangle of limbs afterwards is even more confusing but he doesn’t mind. His wines of choice surround him one on one side and one on the other. They whisper together and he can’t bring himself to even figure out what language they are using let alone formulate a response. Instead he simply grunts.
His Korean wine, giggles then, and shifts closer as if he is particularly proud of himself. “It’s your own fault really.” That smooth voice is definitely of the Korean verity and though his mind comprehends, he can’t form a response and offers a grunt in response.
His Chinese wine, snickers on his other side and nibbles at his neck. “I think we broke him.” The words are in Korean but accented so that he is certain that isn’t the proper language that wine should be speaking.
“We are that good,” his Korean wine says proudly. “And really it is his fault.”
“He did start this sleeping with us both thing,” his Chinese wine agrees. Kyuhyun thinks that is decidedly unfair, even though he cannot find his voice to state it. His memory clearly shows that both of them offered themselves to him. All he is guilty of is never saying no, but he can’t really work his tongue around to say that either.
“It turned out alright, I think,” his Korean wine says with a smirk and leans in to taste his Chinese wine. Kyuhyun is positive it is unfair that his wines are mingling above him again and he groans.
“Oh I think we are working him up again,” his Chinese wine says when they break apart. There is a hand low on Kyuhyun’s stomach that is edging down further, and Kyuhyun shifts, not quite sure if he is ready to sample them again or not. His Korean wine chuckles darkly, dangerously.
“Sungmin! Zhou mi!” the voice of the leader drifts through the thin hotel walls. “If you broke Kyuhyun you are all in so much trouble tomorrow! Don’t even think about another round! We have a show tomorrow! Sleep!”
There is a shared giggle and look, but the hand retreats to safer territory and the blanket settles over the three of them. The light is clicked off. His Chinese wine and his Korean wine settle with him, on either side and become something else entirely as darkness descends on them and sleep claims him.
AN This was written for my little sissy who did much better one her vocab test. Keep up the good work sissy!
In China, Kyuhyun finds it’s all about sharp lines and angles. The stark hotel rooms, coupled with his long limbs, give the entire event a feeling of rushed roughness. It’s harsh and fast like wine that is bitter and bites on his tongue but settles well in the pit of his stomach. The language that he pretends to know nothing of, he understands enough to decipher the meaning of the breathy syllables during and the soft murmurs afterward, amid the tangle of limbs.
In Korea, Kyuhyun finds that it is soft lines and rounded curves. His room is home, or as close and he will get in the next few years, and it gives the entire event a feeling of comforting tenderness. It’s slow and sensual, like wine that sits heavily on his tongue and curls warm in the pit of his stomach. The language that he has grown up with isn’t necessary to understand the needy groans during or the quiet murmurs after, amid the mingling of breath.
Kyuhyun isn’t sure if his Chinese wine and his Korean wine know of each other. It isn’t as though he has really worked hard to keep them a secret from each other. In fact, if they asked, he would tell them, but they never asked so he never told. If he had been pressed to choose between the two, he would have never been able to.
When they are in Japan he doesn’t expect to discover a new wine or to sample either of the old. He is surprised, one night after a show, to discover his two favorite wines mingling together in his room. Kyuhyun instantly finds himself torn between watching the sharp mix with the soft or moving over and sampling both together. A whispered moaning version of his name first in one language and then the other, make up his mind for him. He goes to them then, pulled by some compulsion that he can’t resist.
Chinese and Korean wash over him spreading the bite and the warmth, until one blurs into the other. The limbs meld until angles and curves become one complete form with him in the middle of it all. He loses himself to it then, to the mix of spoken language and a language that needs no words. He murmurs their names, his Chinese wine and his Korean wine, but he can’t seem to figure out which is responsible for what sensation within him and when he is taken over completely and the world seems to explode from within, he wonders if it is possible to overdose on wine.
The tangle of limbs afterwards is even more confusing but he doesn’t mind. His wines of choice surround him one on one side and one on the other. They whisper together and he can’t bring himself to even figure out what language they are using let alone formulate a response. Instead he simply grunts.
His Korean wine, giggles then, and shifts closer as if he is particularly proud of himself. “It’s your own fault really.” That smooth voice is definitely of the Korean verity and though his mind comprehends, he can’t form a response and offers a grunt in response.
His Chinese wine, snickers on his other side and nibbles at his neck. “I think we broke him.” The words are in Korean but accented so that he is certain that isn’t the proper language that wine should be speaking.
“We are that good,” his Korean wine says proudly. “And really it is his fault.”
“He did start this sleeping with us both thing,” his Chinese wine agrees. Kyuhyun thinks that is decidedly unfair, even though he cannot find his voice to state it. His memory clearly shows that both of them offered themselves to him. All he is guilty of is never saying no, but he can’t really work his tongue around to say that either.
“It turned out alright, I think,” his Korean wine says with a smirk and leans in to taste his Chinese wine. Kyuhyun is positive it is unfair that his wines are mingling above him again and he groans.
“Oh I think we are working him up again,” his Chinese wine says when they break apart. There is a hand low on Kyuhyun’s stomach that is edging down further, and Kyuhyun shifts, not quite sure if he is ready to sample them again or not. His Korean wine chuckles darkly, dangerously.
“Sungmin! Zhou mi!” the voice of the leader drifts through the thin hotel walls. “If you broke Kyuhyun you are all in so much trouble tomorrow! Don’t even think about another round! We have a show tomorrow! Sleep!”
There is a shared giggle and look, but the hand retreats to safer territory and the blanket settles over the three of them. The light is clicked off. His Chinese wine and his Korean wine settle with him, on either side and become something else entirely as darkness descends on them and sleep claims him.
AN This was written for my little sissy who did much better one her vocab test. Keep up the good work sissy!