Why Couldn't I Have Met You First? ...continued
He didn’t write back after that.
It had been four weeks since he’d learned about Hangeng’s death. He never went back to get the letter from Zhou Mi. He suspected that the other man had thrown it away. He didn’t know how Zhou Mi knew Heechul and Hangeng, or what Zhou Mi thought of Kyuhyun’s panic attack.
All he knew was that he felt like dying.
Kyuhyun wasn’t expecting any visitors, so why was someone knocking on his door? He didn’t remember how he managed to uncurl himself from around his blankets and stumble to the door, smelling like alcohol and unwashed clothing.
The knocking was louder this time, annoyed. Kyuhyun frowned, readying an angry retort. If it was Sungmin coming to check up on him again…
Kyuhyun opened his door and froze.
He didn’t have to have ever seen Heechul’s face to know that this was him. The man was utterly beautiful, dark hair pulled back in a small ponytail, chic glasses perched atop a slender nose, full lips chapped and rosy from the cold.
Kyuhyun stood there, because his heart was beating a million times a minute and he couldn’t breathe.
Heechul walked into the apartment without another word, pushing past Kyuhyun with an unreadable expression. He placed his bag down on the coffee table, slumping against the soft cushions of Kyuhyun’s couch.
“You must be Cho Kyuhyun.” His voice was soft, a hint of a husky timbre that sent a shiver down Kyuhyun’s spine. Kyuhyun finally managed to breathe as he turned in the doorway to the man that had invaded his home.
“How?” He croaked out.
“Seasonings told me.” Heechul announced casually, as if that were the answer to everything. He crossed his legs-skinny jeans that ended in some kind of fashionable boot that was probably too expensive for Kyuhyun to ever consider buying-and gave a dry smile. “Everything.”
Kyuhyun’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
“I…”
“I knew from the beginning that you weren’t Hangeng.” Heechul was staring at the wall resolutely, not looking to where Kyuhyun stood in the doorway, helpless, mouth open, his expression a mixture of surprise and desperation.
“…I was in the crash too.”
Kyuhyun swallowed.
Heechul finally turned to look at him. “The first letter I got…” Heechul trailed off. “…I was furious. I read it and I was pissed. I wanted to come and find you and kill you, whoever you were.”
Kyuhyun leaned against the wall. He should have known this was going to happen.
“Your letter reminded me that he was gone and that pissed me off. I’d been doing a good job of pushing it all away and you had to remind me of the whole thing all over again. I guess I was so lonely that I wanted to pretend you were Hangeng for a little while. I was drunk when I wrote you back. I didn’t know what I was doing until the next day.”
Kyuhyun slid down to the ground, trembling. He didn’t know why he felt like crying, but he did. His heart was shattering into a million pieces at the sight in front of him. He’d caused Heechul pain…he loved him, didn’t he? Even though he’d never met him, he’d loved him. You weren’t supposed to cause pain to the people you loved.
And he knew what was coming next. Anger and screaming and hatred. The only thing that Heechul probably felt for Kyuhyun was loathing. If he had a shred of humanity, perhaps there would be some pity mixed in, but not enough to drown out the revulsion.
“I wasn’t angry the next day. I don’t know what I was, except tired and hung over.” Heechul laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “…when I got your next letter, I was happy.” A small smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes glittered with pain. “I was happy because I figured I could pretend for a while that you were Hangeng.”
So they’d both been pretending that he was Hangeng, had they? Kyuhyun because he wanted Heechul to love him, and Heechul because he wanted Hangeng back.
Kyuhyun knew he should have felt used, but he could only cling to that small glimmer of hope. Heechul didn’t hate him.
Heechul slowly stood, and Kyuhyun finally registered that he was unbuttoning his jacket. He’d already pulled off his scarf, placing it on the couch. He dropped the coat as he walked toward where Kyuhyun sat on the ground.
Kyuhyun just stared, even as Heechul grabbed his arm and pulled him up on shaky legs. They felt like jello, and the only thing holding him up was Heechul’s firm grip. He was strong for such a fragile looking man. Kyuhyun’s skin seemed to burn where Heechul touched him; he could feel the heat seeping through Heechul’s gloves.
What was going on? He opened his mouth to ask, but it was at that moment that Heechul leaned forward.
“…so let’s pretend for a little longer.”
Heechul tasted like broken dreams. The smell of his cherry lip balm filled Kyuhyun’s nostrils, as chapped lips brushed against his own. He let out a choked gasp, and Heechul’s tongue slipped inside his mouth. Kyuhyun was still too shocked to respond, save for a small whine in the back of his throat, a sound he didn’t know he was making.
Heechul was kissing him. Nothing else mattered. His mind was blank. He was unable to comprehend what was happening but at the same time, it was all that he was focused on. He was shoved against the wall-someone had closed the front door-and his back scraped against uneven spackling.
He couldn’t breathe, and he wasn’t sure if that was because Heechul was kissing him or if it was because Heechul was kissing him. Heechul’s tongue continued its pillage, sliding across his teeth, touching every inch, dominating, consuming, branding.
Kyuhyun’s fingers had buried themselves in Heechul’s hair and all he could think was that yes, his hair was as soft as Kyuhyun had imagined. It swept across his fingertips like liquid silk. It was too soft to grasp, evasive, and somehow that was symbolic of the entire situation.
Kyuhyun felt like crying and laughing at the same time, but all he managed was a moan as Heechul’s lips trailed down Kyuhyun’s jaw, leaving a hot, wet trail. Kyuhyun tilted his head back. His eyes were fluttering closed, but he forced them open through sheer willpower.
He had to keep them open, he needed to see Heechul so that he could prove this wasn’t all a dream.
Heechul’s hands had slipped beneath Kyuhyun’s shirt. One was playing with the hem of his pants, a thumb inserted into the elastic waistline. His nail nicked sensitive skin, pressing down hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to break the skin.
His other hand was skimming along Kyuhyun’s ribcage. Kyuhyun didn’t know how Heechul could caress every single rib and make it feel amazing. He ran his fingers across them like the keys of a piano. The fact that he could feel them at all should have been disturbing, but Kyuhyun couldn’t help but find the entire action sensual.
The heat didn’t fade with absence of his touch. It throbbed, aching in the absence but prominent in the memory of what had been there moments before.
Heechul dropped to his knees.
This was…not how it was supposed to be. Kyuhyun didn’t know what he’d envisioned for his first time-for being kissed and touched in such a way-but he certainly hadn’t expected Heechul to walk into his apartment and kiss him senseless. There was an underlying bitterness and anger to Heechul’s movements, and the pit of Kyuhyun’s stomach stirred with something aside from desire.
But the uncaring way that Heechul pulled his sweatpants down his hips was the last thing Kyuhyun was worried about. He could feel Heechul’s breath through his boxers. He’d barely had enough time to go from surprised to turned on, but his arousal was apparent against the white cotton and he swallowed, suddenly extremely self conscious.
He wanted to pull away but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to. Pulling away would mean Heechul not touching him. He didn’t know if he’d survive that.
“…echul…” He managed to gasp out, because Heechul was teasing the edge of his boxers, not quite pulling them down. He tugged at the waistband and blew down. His breath was scalding against Kyuhyun’s erection. He whimpered, wanting more of that heat, but Heechul moved back, taking the aching warmth with him.
Kyuhyun was left standing with a hard on, as Heechul got to his feet. His face was unreadable, and he cleared his throat, looking like he wasn’t certain what he was doing either, as if throwing Kyuhyun against the wall and fucking him until he couldn’t stand hadn’t been part of his original plan.
Finally his emotionless mask broke and he choked on a sob.
The sound felt like a physical blow, and Kyuhyun had to close his eyes because he couldn’t stand the sight of the lone tear making its way down Heechul’s flushed cheek.
Kyuhyun slowly opened his eyes, because his erection was throbbing and his heart was slamming against his ribcage. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, but he forced himself to do both as he gazed at Heechul through half-lidded eyes, panting.
Heechul hadn’t really touched him at all and he was already ready to come. A flush spread across his face at the thought, at the thought of Heechul here, touching him, gazing at him with those dark eyes that were currently pinning him to the wall.
He trembled under the intensity of Heechul’s gaze, as Heechul reached up a hand and wiped the tear away, before tugging off his leather glove with his teeth, his eyes never leaving Kyuhyun’s face as he did so.
Kyuhyun didn’t know how he was still standing.
Heechul finished peeling the glove from his hand and was amazed at the stark contrast from the warmth of his gloves to the air of the apartment. It was frigid to the point that Heechul wondered if steam was going to start forming when he opened his mouth to speak.
“You want me, don’t you?”
Kyuhyun swallowed, tearing his gaze away from Heechul’s bare shoulder. His large sweater had slipped down, revealing the expanse of milky white skin. Yes, yes he wanted him. There was something taunting, something dark and altogether patronizing about Heechul’s statement.
As if he were mocking him.
Kyuhyun couldn’t deny that voice, however. “…y…es…” He managed.
Heechul smirked, a twitch of his lips, the beginnings of a feral grin that had Kyuhyun swallowing and his knees buckling.
“Then show me.” Heechul reached forward and grabbed Kyuhyun’s shirt, pulling him toward him. His breath was hot against Kyuhyun’s ear.
Kyuhyun didn’t remember how they got to his bedroom, or how he was suddenly shirtless. Heechul’s pants were missing as well, but the boots remained, the sharp heel of one digging into Kyuhyun’s leg as Heechul straddled him.
Heechul’s hands skimmed up his chest, leaving angry, red trails across the pale skin.
Heechul was not wearing underwear beneath his deliciously tight pants, and Kyuhyun didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful as the man on top of him, wearing only a pair of calf-high boots and a loose sweater. But then Heechul grabbed the sweater’s edge and lifted it over his head and Kyuhyun could no longer think coherently.
Heechul was all sharp angles. He was lean and pale and fit. There was muscle but it was like steel under silk. It was not prominent, but Kyuhyun could see the way they rippled when he bent down, his lips millimeters from Kyuhyun’s own.
Kyuhyun had to remember to breathe again.
Heechul shifted backwards a few inches, and Kyuhyun’s still clothed erection was fitting nicely against the curve of Heechul’s ass. Heechul’s lips ghosted over his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the corner of his lips before retreating, leaving Kyuhyun hot and wanting.
Kyuhyun bucked his hips, rolling them upwards, wanting nothing more than to sink into Heechul or have Heechul fuck him into the mattress. He didn’t care either way.
The tears hit Kyuhyun’s face like blows to the stomach. He knew why. He wasn’t Hangeng.
“You look nothing like him.” Heechul whispered harshly, nails digging into Kyuhyun’s hip so hard that Kyuhyun swore they scratched bone. But he didn’t care, because the sharp pain meant that this was real, that Heechul was here, touching him.
He didn’t mind being used, as long as Heechul looked at him.
“Did you really think you could be him? You’re fucking stupid. You’re nothing like him at all.” Heechul sobbed, eyes glittering with pain and anger and hatred and something else that Kyuhyun couldn’t identify.
Heechul slipped off of Kyuhyun long enough to jerk his boxers down past his knees. The friction of cloth rubbing against his erection and then the cold air of his unheated bedroom made Kyuhyun moan wantonly. He couldn’t even think about the fact that Heechul hated him because Heechul was touching him and as long as he did that, as long as he focused on Kyuhyun-whether it was to love or to hate-Kyuhyun didn’t care.
“You don’t look like him. You can’t write like him. Your damned Korean is too good. You aren’t him.” Heechul choked out, a ragged whisper, and Kyuhyun felt like he was breaking too. He pressed his forehead against Kyuhyun’s shoulder, tears collecting in the dip of his collarbone as Heechul trembled. “Why can’t you be him? Why…? Why don’t I hate you?”
He kissed Kyuhyun’s neck before nipping his adam’s apple, at the same time he shoved three fingers into Kyuhyun’s mouth. Kyuhyun didn’t know what he’s supposed to do. In theory he’d read about how to have sex with a man, but this wasn’t what he had expected. There was no time to think, and he expected that there wouldn’t be so much pain-physically and emotionally-while it was happening.
He did the only thing he could think to do. Kyuhyun ran his tongue along one slender digit. Heechul tasted salty, like sweat, and musky like sex. As if seduction seeped out of his pores. The pads of his fingers were calloused, from running along the strings of a violin, from holding a pencil and writing late into the night, from hard work and experience and a life that Kyuhyun had never experienced or ever known.
A life that Kyuhyun knew about through letters, through someone else’s words and memories. Memories that had been cherished by someone else before him.
He heard Heechul let out a strangled groan and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. It was a delicious sensation and he rolled his hips once more, hands reaching up to brush against Heechul’s thighs. The skin was softer than anything he’d ever touched, smoother than the polished keys on his clarinet.
Heechul pulled his fingers out of Kyuhyun’s mouth and a trail of saliva connected them for a moment before it broke and Heechul slid down Kyuhyun’s body. Kyuhyun didn’t know where to touch as Heechul placed himself between Kyuhyun’s legs. It took only one smoldering glare from him for Kyuhyun to spread his legs a little wider, whimpering.
He hadn’t braced himself for the sensation of Heechul’s finger slipping inside of him, up past his knuckle. Kyuhyun shifted uncomfortably, grimacing slightly as Heechul slipped a second finger inside. His saliva had provided little lubrication, and the skin against skin was raw and painful. He could only imagine what it would feel like with Heechul actually inside him.
And suddenly he couldn’t see. His vision went black and he arched off of the bed with a hoarse moan. He’d never experienced this feeling before. He didn’t know if this was pleasure or torture, because the pain mixed so beautifully with that exquisite feeling when Heechul touched him there-yes there, oh god oh god!
“Why can’t I hate you?” Heechul ground out again, fingers disappearing to be replaced by his own erection. Kyuhyun wasn’t prepared for it. As Heechul entered him, he was rather certain he was being torn apart. He let out a cry of pain, because Heechul was not slow or gentle at all. He entered in one swift movement and didn’t stop for Kyuhyun to adjust as he began moving.
Tears sprang to the corners of Kyuhyun’s eyes, sliding down his face as Heechul moved. The pain overrode the pleasure now. The slapping of skin against skin echoed off of the walls, the silence punctuated by heavy pants and soft sobs.
Kyuhyun wasn’t sure which one of them was crying harder.
Heechul’s fingers brushed against Kyuhyun’s cheek and there was something indefinately tender about the action; in such sharp contrast to his harsh thrusts, to his feral eyes clouded with tears and self-loathing.
The only person Heechul could hate was himself.
The pain was there, constant, but the pleasure was coming back in waves. Kyuhyun shifted his hips up and suddenly Heechul hit that spot, the spot that made Kyuhyun feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and had just jumped off.
He was flying, and he knew that soon he was going to fall on the sharp rocks at the bottom, broken and bleeding and alone.
He tried to savor the feeling, the smell, the sounds that Heechul made, because he knew that all too soon this would be over.
The pleasure was building, a coil in his stomach that was getting tighter and tighter. He shouted, screaming Heechul’s name and wondering offhandedly if he’d closed his windows. He didn’t think it would matter, the walls were thin anyway. Everyone on his floor had probably heard him scream.
All that mattered was the pressure building in him. Heechul’s hand slipped around him, tugged and jerking, nails skimming along the underside of his cock. Kyuhyun let out a strangled whine, still crying although he wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain. “P-please…”
And then he was falling, spiraling down into the darkness. Spots danced in his vision and he called out Heechul’s name in a breathless scream. Heechul was kissing him, and he cried out against Kyuhyun’s lips as he came. Kyuhyun was certain that he’d said Hangeng, but he wanted to believe that he’d tasted his own name mixed in with the tears streaming down Heechul’s face.
Heechul collapsed atop him, lying there for only a few moments before he pulled himself out of Kyuhyun and rolled to the side. Kyuhyun didn't move, trying to discern what was happening through the haze of sex. This was where Heechul left and never came back, wasn’t it?
“…you were my first kiss.” Kyuhyun managed to rasp out, before he began to sob.
He felt Heechul stiffen, before whispering, “…you weren’t mine.” The creaking of springs told Kyuhyun that Heechul had gotten off of the bed. He could hear him rummaging around for his clothing even as Kyuhyun clenched his eyes shut and cried.
He was tired and heartbroken, and all he wanted to do was sleep and never wake up. The reality of it all was slowly seeping in and he bit his lip to keep from crying out to Heechul, from begging him to stay.
The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was Heechul whispering, “I’m supposed to hate you, so why do I love you so much?”
Kyuhyun suspected he was imagining it, because in the morning, Heechul was gone.
---
A/N: oh my god...there is smut. I haven't decided yet if there will be a sequel or not, but I assume there will be. On a lighter note, Happy Thanksgiving! And for those of you who don't celebrate Thanskgiving um...happy Lady Hanaka wrote smut...day?
SEQUEL IS THIS WAY! --->