Ryeowook's thighs a day!

i fucking hate plagiarists

thundersquall — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 17:06:40 GMT

i am so fucking SICK of plagiarism. my fics have just been plagiarised for the FOURTH time i've come across since i started writing.

i left comments on this person when i discovered that she'd not only been posting my fics and passing them off as her own, she also stole one of hotarumyst 's. she worked fast, though - she's deleted the fics she plagiarised (joahamnida ) but i have screencaps.

i'm going to post them anyway even though she's deleted, because 1) these people never really leave, they come back under different names and steal more and everyone needs to be wary and look out, and 2) there were people who actually BELIEVED her when she said she wrote them and replied to comments as such.

this one is my fic, first posted here: http://thundersquall.livejournal.com/9479.html

this was first posted here: http://community.livejournal.com/paperbrushes/2359.html#cutid1

and this was posted here: http://community.livejournal.com/paperbrushes/2359.html#cutid4

my friends' comments before she deleted

my comments.

she also plagiarised one of hotarumyst 's fics, but i wasn't able to screencap it before she deleted it. i've also reported her to miracle mods and will do so soon to kyuwook mods, since she posts there sometimes.

this girl is 21 years old. TWENTY ONE FUCKING YEARS OLD and going around stealing people's work to pass off as her own. and then when she's found out, she doesn't even have the balls to admit she was wrong and apologise to the people she stole from.

the last person who plagiarised from me put my stuff on sj-world and then cooked up an elaborate scheme of lies pretending it was her cousin who did it. that girl was 19 or 20, and studying in a good university in london.

what i don't understand from these people is, WHY. why would you want to steal someone else's work and pass it off as your own? everything i write, everything anyone writes, takes an enormous effort. it's just spitting in someone's face if you take what they spent hours and hours on, and take credit for it. what is even the point?

i know black_goose and umberela have been plagiarised before too, and i myself have been FOUR times. plagiarism isn't limited to just complete copying and pasting like this girl did, it also includes ideas, lines, blocks of dialogue - just because i don't say anything doesn't mean you can push the border. (you know who you are, if you see this.) my point is, it's insidious, it's everywhere, it's happening all the time. those of you who write or draw, just be vigilant and look out for lowlifes like these.

i repeat what i said in my comment to her: i have zero respect for plagiarists. none at all. you have to be a certain low level of pathetic to even want to do something like this.

ETA: She has publicly put up an apology on her LJ and also PM-ed me, which at least makes her marginally better than the last person who lied and schemed when found out. However the usual thing still stands i.e. DON'T do this stuff in the first place, then none of this would be happening! I'm drawing a line under this for now, but leaving this up because people need to know and be careful >:(

lol okay

thundersquall — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 11:11:10 GMT

http://kpopsecretmeme2.livejournal.com/82424.html?thread=805859832#t805859832

see, i can overlook people calling me cray cray or insane, because i am! i admit it, i am.

but when people started accusing me of being so bad that people had to DELETE AND MOVE LJS, that was when i honestly thought i wanted out of this fandom, because i mean seriously? did people really dislike me this much? i eventually got over it, and thought to myself like "ah, just ignore it". i never wanted to BOTHER to defend myself, but now this shit is getting way out of fucking hand and i need to say my piece.

a lot of people DID delete LJs from my flist, but FOR FUCK'S SAKE OFC YOU WILL ALL JUMP TO STUPID CONCLUSIONS, RIGHT? a lot of them actually switched LJs for whatever reason and told me about it and had me add them on their new ones. before i did my f-cut (BECAUSE of all the wank i was getting), i never bothered clearing those struck-out names from my profile because i was just lazy. so yeah at one glance maybe it did look like a lot of my friends were gone, but most of them actually just switched and TOLD ME. please, some perspective here. i don't have this much ~*~power~*~, like you all love to go on about on kpsm2.

second thing. some of them did leave without a word. like noel and haneul, i really miss them and wonder where they went. idk whether they left because of me, or for other personal reasons, but in any case, if you don't know for real, don't fucking lay the blame at my door?

third. some of my friends left because they left fandom entirely, like ceri. and these are people i am still in touch with, even if i don't talk to them often nowadays.

fourth. i KNOW there are people who left and switched LJs without telling me, but there are just two that i know of, and they are the ones whom i can only assume left because of "my stanning". well you know what? these people were people i thought of as friends. i've even met one of them in RL. i thought we liked each other. it disappoints me that they did this, but it's their choice, and i'm not going to pressure them to add me back, or confront them about leaving without telling me. if they had a problem with me, they should have said it to my face. i'm a fucking adult, it's not something i can't take lying down. i think it says a lot more about them, than about me, if they were willing to drop me and go without telling me what is the problem. i treasured our friendship. they apparently didn't. or at least, couldn't accept me for who i was enough to continue on being friends. which is fine, whatever, it's their choice.

regarding my "cray cray stanning": i am the first person to admit that i stan hard, really hard. but am i hurting anyone by doing this? as far as i know, i don't think so. i'm not putting a knife to anyone's throats forcing them to love ryeowook or yewook. i'm not going around telling people "oh so you ship ____? PLEASE YEWOOK IS SO MUCH MORE REAL AND BETTER, SHIP THEM INSTEAD". i am essentially doing nothing more than having fun and flailing on my own or sometimes with other people. does it hurt people so much? if so, then maybe you've got the wrong hobby.

and then all the posting of my tweets and shit on the meme: i can overlook that. twitter's a public domain, it's cool. even though my tweets are now locked, if you want to use my tweets to wank on me, whatever. i put them out there anyway.

but when you bring my bf into this, you're out. fucking out. bring my bf or family or any of my rl people into this, PLEASE, GO DO THE WORLD A FAVOUR AND HANG YOURSELF. this is so fucking low that i don't even know how to express how low this is. go die in a fucking fire, seriously. my bf has NOTHING to do with my fandom life (beyond paying for my shit - and btw, he did buy me the ticket to the singapore showcase, moron), dragging him into this crap i'm caught up with, on stupid anon memes, with stupid anon fucking wankers who don't have the balls to say this to my face, is LOW.

and to address this as well: http://kpopsecretmeme2.livejournal.com/82424.html?thread=805892600#t805892600

for the sake of ever-loving fuck. i would NOT let something like otps get in the way of friendship. do any of you idiots know how many strongly yewook-biased people i have on my f-list? THREE. out of 80. that includes kate, btw, which just goes to show how easily people can jump to conclusions without knowing either kate or me. the rest all ship other otps, and idgaf about it. but this is besides the point. the point is that kate has disappeared for THREE MONTHS. texts, pms, emails and calls to her have all gone unanswered. even ela, who's her best friend, hasn't been able to get hold of her for three months.

we are now so worried, we're contacting friends to see if they can go and look for her at her address, to find out if she's okay, and we're really dreading what we'll find out. but you bastards HAVE to twist this into being MY fault, do you? my friend may be having serious serious problems, and all you can think is "oh, she was probably chased away by thundersquall"? FUCK YOU. that is downright fucking cruel. use your fucking brains, if you're equipped with any, and think about the person and what could be up with her instead. not everything revolves around LJ, not everything is fandom-related, and people do have lives.

everyone keeps telling me not to leave fandom or these people will "win". you know what? this isn't about winning or losing. this isn't a fucking competiton. i could have carried on and ignored anything else, i've already ignored fucking months and months of unwarranted and unsubstantiated wank, but this is my LIFE. i'm an actual human person with emotions doing my own thing and having my own fun behind the computer. if it is SO HARD to do that without getting judged for every step i take and every word i say, lol, i'm fucking out of here. i suppose you people will have a field day about my "drama queen" tendencies with this, good for you. have a nice fucking life, people.

Because I am the porniest person ever.

thundersquall — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 09:53:58 GMT

11,000 WORDS OF PURE, PERFECT, HOT YEWOOK PORN

IT DESERVES SPARKLIES, OKAY. I DEMAND THAT YOU ALL GO AND READ AND DIE AND FAP AND GIVE zenfu MUCH WORSHIPFUL LOVE BECAUSE KLJSDHFLKDS. ANYONE WHO CAN WRITE 11,000 WORDS OF RYEOWOOK BEING YESUNG'S SEX SLAVE DESERVES LOVE. ♥

happytgt linked me and I spent like an hour sifting through and finding... no porn at all. I was beginning to despair and wonder if Chinese writers somehow thought of YeWook as some chaste innocent couple, because catskilt and happytgt manage to find enough EunHae porn in Chinese, and so does teexsaurus for KyuMin, but there was just NOTHING for YeWook.

And then I finally happened across one, and I was delighted, until I read and realised that the plot was about Yesung being some creepy inventor who builds himself a sex robot and names it Ryeowook. And so he has robot!Wook chained to a wall and he's doing all sorts of nasty shit to it and then... he makes Ryeowook call him "daddy".

... I backed the shit out of there.

Then I found several others, but they were either incest (the father-son theme seems to be popular with YeWook, don't ask me why), or noncon, or bondage, or torture. DNW, OKAY? I JUST WANTED NORMAL YEWOOK PORN, GDI.

Then happytgt gave me a snippet of one she'd found, which I promptly c & p-ed to Oppaaarrr and translated for her, because seriously, guys. Chinese porn, if you can find the 'normal' ones, is a fucking riot.

thundersquall: 最终……欲望还是战胜了理智，理智不允许变回猫的形态，12点的钟声敲响，钟云的身体完全被欲望所征服了，一步步迈进厨房的丽旭身边。
IT SAYS
in the end... lust won over reason. reason didnt allow him to go back to being meek again. as the clock struck midnight, jongwoon's body was completely controlled by lust, and led him step by step to the kitchen, to ryeowook's side.
DYING
DYING
specialrainbow: ROFL
ROFL
THAT SOUNDS SO ALARMINGLY FEASIBLE
thundersquall: LAUGHING SO FUCKING HARD
BUT ITS SO... DRAMATIC
ITS LIKE
AT MIDNIGHT!
AS THE CLOCK TOLLS!
JONGWOON IS OVERCOME BY LUST!
LMFAOOOO
specialrainbow: THIS SOUNDS LIKE FIC WOULD SOUND IF RYEOWOOK WAS WRITING IT
thundersquall: HAHAHAHAHA

And then when I finally found proper YeWook Chinese PWP, no weird kinks and shit:

thundersquall: OKAY
I WILL DO AWAY WITH THE FRONT PART AND START STRAIGHT WITH THE PORN
specialrainbow: OKAY
thundersquall: 丽旭感觉到艺声有些冰冷的手在触碰他的后背，不适的轻哼了一下，谁知，那轻轻的哼声却成为了两人之间最好的催情剂。丽旭的轻哼声让艺声有些急躁，手上的动作也快了起来。

艺声的手从丽旭的衬衣内迅速的挣开扣子，让丽旭洁白的身躯暴露在空气里，刚从刚才的吻里清醒了许多的丽旭被突如其来的冷空气一刺激，便彻底清醒了，他看着在他身上正在‘行动’的艺声，瞬间明白即将要发生的事，“钟云哥，我们…去床上好…吗？”丽旭轻轻的问着，但脸不知道已经红成什么样了，而且他这样问也是为了自己着想，毕竟在地上，会冷的啊…

ryeowook felt yesung's cold hands on his back, and couldnt help but sigh a little, but he didnt expect that little sigh to be a catalyst. his sigh made yesung more urgent, his hands move faster.

yesung swiftly undid ryeowook's buttons, exposing ryeowook's pale skin to the air. ryeowook's excitement was fully awakened (idek okay, im just translating), and as he watched yesung's hands on his body and understood what was going to happen soon, he said softly "hyung, can we... go on the bed?" he was blushing, but he was also thinking of himself, because really, the floor was cold.

... DYING.
specialrainbow: ... DYING
ROFL
thundersquall: 听了丽旭的话，艺声嘴角露出了一个暧昧不明的笑容，便把丽旭横抱起来，顺便把被自己退下的丽旭的衬衫带着一起进了丽旭的宿舍.

到了房间，艺声迫不及待的把小萌以最轻柔但最快的方法放到床上，还没等艺声行动，丽旭便自己环上艺声的脖子，献上自己的唇。

乘着丽旭自己吻上艺声的瞬间，艺声便一只手扣住丽旭的后脑，将舌尖伸进丽旭的口腔，当他感觉到丽旭开始回应他的时候，另一只手就开始退下丽旭的裤子，以至于让一个可爱的男孩一丝不挂的暴露在自己的眼前。

当艺声感觉到丽旭完全呼吸困难的时候，才放弃了丽旭的唇，用迅雷不及掩耳之势退下了自己身上所有碍事的衣物。
specialrainbow: LMAO THAT'S SO CUTE THOUGH
thundersquall: hearing ryeowook's words, yesung gave a little smile, and lifted him in his arms, carrying him, half-undone clothes and all, to the bedroom.

once there, yesung wasted no time in laying him on the bed in a gentle, yet urgent way (IDEK OKAY), and ryeowook didnt wait for yesung, but looped his arms around his neck and offered up his lips (THIS IS A DIRECT TRANS, LMAO).

taking advantage of the time ryeowook was using to kiss him, yesung put a hand on the back of ryeowook's head, pulling him closer and pressing his tongue into his mouth. as ryeowook responded, he tugged down ryeowook's pants with his other hand, exposing him fully in front of him.

once yesung felt that ryeowook's breathing was getting harsher, he pulled away from him and started stripping himself of his own troublesome clothing.

... DYING
specialrainbow: ROFL
ROFL
thundersquall: DO YOU WANT MORE
LMAO
specialrainbow: OKAY LMAO
thundersquall: THEYRE SPENDING SO MUCH TIME JUST STRIPPING, IDEK
specialrainbow: THIS IS AMAZING
INTENSE
thundersquall: CAN I SKIP ON TO THE ACTUAL FUCKING
specialrainbow: OKAY
thundersquall: DYING OMG
THE WORDS THEY USE
LMAO

艺声看着自己握在手里的丽旭的分身，又加快了手上的动作，虽然另一只手放开了已经泛红的两点小樱桃，但牙齿却毫不犹豫的开始啃食那小樱桃。

yesung watched as his hand worked on ryeowook's cock, speeding up, and removed his other hand from his nipples, but replaced it with his mouth.

IF YOU WANT TO KNNOW THE TRUTH, THEY CALLED HIS NIPPLES LITTLE ROSY CHERRIES
specialrainbow: ROFL
thundersquall: BUT I THOUGHT I'D BETTER NOT TRANSLATE IT AS SUCH
specialrainbow: I WAS GOING TO QUESTION WHAT THE XIAO WAS FOR
thundersquall: ALSO THEY TALKED ABT JONGWOON BITING HIS LITTLE ROSY NIPPLES
specialrainbow: I HOPED IT WAS SOMETHING HILARIOUS
thundersquall: AND I ALSO THOUGHT I'D BETTER NOT TRANSLATE
specialrainbow: DYING
thundersquall: “啊~~~~哥…嗯…好难受啊…快…快啊~~”丽旭的声已经证明了他已经了，“哥…好难受啊，快点…进…来啊”
specialrainbow: LMAO
OH GOD
thundersquall: ... DYING IDEK HOW TO TRANSLATE THIS
specialrainbow: *ANTICIPATES*
thundersquall: DYING
specialrainbow: I CAN ONLY READ THE GE PART AND I'M LAUGHING
thundersquall: "ah~ hyung... i can't take it anymore... faster" ryeowook's voice proved that he was close. "hyung, i cant take it, i want you inside me"

... DYING
IDEK
specialrainbow: ROFL
ROFL
thundersquall: IM SHAKING
LAUGHING SO HARD
specialrainbow: ROFL
ROFKGHMJER
thundersquall: NEXT LINE

听了丽旭的话，艺声更加加重了手上的力道。“嗯…”在一阵快感下，丽旭就在艺声的手中释放了。艺声欣慰的吐了一口气，可下下身的灼热感却有让他紧张起来。

listening to ryeowook's words, yesung merely stroked him faster. "mm." ryeowook released into yesung's hand with a burst of pleasure. yesung sighed in relief, but his own arousal below was making him feel more urgent.

... DIES DIES DIES
specialrainbow: DEAD
thundersquall: SOBBING
I DONT EVEN
LMAO
... OKAY I HAVE NO IDEA WHY THE NEXT PART IS ROMANISED
I WILL JUST TRANS HERE
specialrainbow: LMAO
thundersquall: yesung lifted ryeowook's legs up, allowing his entrance to be displayed before him, and slowly moved himself towards it.

... UH, OKAY
NEXT LINE
specialrainbow: KRFKEKGPLE
thundersquall: WHY DO YOU LOVE IT SO MUCH LMAO
OH ITS THE END ALREADY
specialrainbow: BECAUSE IT'S AMUSING LMAO
thundersquall: yesung controlled his own urges, and kept still once he was inside of ryeowook. once ryeowook was used to yesung being in him, he began moving, just gently, but even those gentle movements was enough to make ryeowook's devilishly tempting hole (FUCKING DYING) ripple around him, and yesung was turned on enough by that to begin thrusting into ryeowook harder and harder, until the both of them climaxed.

... DEAD
specialrainbow: ...
WTF
LMAO
thundersquall: 艺声慢慢的从丽旭身体里，带出一丝丝浑浊的。他看着躺在床上的丽旭，眼中浮现出一丝怜惜和自责……

他接着又坐在丽旭的身旁，低头轻轻的吻了吻丽旭光洁的额头，又将丽旭抱到接满了热水的浴池里，手法轻柔的给丽旭清洗身子，而丽旭他只是静静的看着，

yesung slowly withdrew from ryeowook's body, and dribbles of thick come flowed out of ryeowook. he stared at ryeowook, his eyes filled with regret...

he sat next to ryeowook and bent down to kiss his forehead, before lifting hiim up and carrying him to the bathroom, setting him in the warm bathtub. with gentle hands, he began to wash ryeowook's body, while ryeowook stared quietly at him.

YEAH AND THATS IT
specialrainbow: ...
WTF
WHY IS JONGWOON SUCH A DOWNER AFTER SEX
POOR RYEOWOOK
thundersquall: LMAOOOO
AT LEAST HES BATHING HIM

And then us discussing YeWook having sex in a car:

specialrainbow: YEAH RYEOWOOK DOES
HE TAKES JONGWOON ALL THE WAY INTO FIRST GEAR
thundersquall: ... DEAD
IM SURE HE DOES
HE REVS JONGWOON UP GOOD
specialrainbow: LMAO
YEAH
thundersquall: MAKES SURE HE DOESNT APPLY THE BRAKES
specialrainbow: HE ACCELERATES HIM TO TOP SPEED
thundersquall: UNF
HE MOVES JONGWOON'S GEAR STICK IN EXPERT WAYS
specialrainbow: DYING
YEAH HE KEEPS HIS IGNITION TICKING OVER
thundersquall: DOESNT GIVE HIS ENGINE A CHANCE TO COOL OFF EITHER
specialrainbow: UNTIL HE NOTICES THEY'RE IN A 30MPH LIMIT ZONE
thundersquall: WHY WOULD THERE BE A LIMIT FOR SEX
specialrainbow: GDI
THERE ISN'T UNLESS YOU'RE DRAWING DRIVING PARALLELS
YOU'D FAIL AT ROLEPLAY

... Yeah. I love Oppaaarrr, I really do. And Vienna too *snuggles her forever for writing me 11k of kinky YeWook, unf*

russian, domesticity, for my eyes only, we belong (drabbles)

thundersquall — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 07:40:53 GMT

Titles: russian, domesticity, for my eyes only, we belong (drabbles)
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: PG-13 for all
Summary: 4 short drabbles inspired by girl!Ryeowook in this picture.
WARNING: Genderswitch

A/N: Written for oh_hesitate. Prompts for these drabbles come from her, g_myzo, and kayevelyn.

___

Of all his classes, Jongwoon hates Russian the most.

The classes are always held on Saturdays, which means that his weekends are burnt, and he has to travel back to his university for 3-hour-long lectures in which the Russian teacher, a burly bearded man whose thick accent mangles his minimal Korean into complete indecipherability, drones on about verbs and conjugations and forces them all to speak one by one, tongues tripping clumsily over the heavy unfamiliar syllables.

But he never once skips a class, not even when he’s been out till 4 am on a Friday night and has had barely 3 hours of sleep, not even when he knows that all he’ll do once he’s there is fall asleep, not even when he spends the next few days complaining to Sungmin about how horribly boring Russian is.

“Well, why don’t you drop the class then?” Sungmin wants to know, and Jongwoon hesitates, because he can’t tell Sungmin that the only thing keeping him going to that class every week is the sight of the tiny, delicate girl from the music faculty who always comes in with her dresses swinging prettily around her knees, the one with the clear, musical voice and the small sweet smiles and the shy little glances she gives Jongwoon whenever he’s near her.</blockquote>

___

There’s nothing Jongwoon likes better than to wake up in the mornings to the smell of cookies baking in the oven, and when he pulls his shorts on to walk out into the kitchen, it’s always to be greeted by the sight of Ryeowook at the kitchen counter, apron tied around her waist and her hands dusted with flour up to the elbows, as she carefully whips egg whites for meringues and decorates freshly-baked muffins with little hearts.

“For you,” Ryeowook will say with a smile, feeding him cookies from hands sticky with chocolate, and Jongwoon will eat every bite, lick the crumbs off Ryeowook’s thumbs, swipe chocolate sauce off her fingers.

“Is it good?” Ryeowook always wants to know, and he’ll say yes, he’ll always say yes, and then he’ll put his arms around her as she works at her baking and press his nose into her hair, her cheek, her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of cookies and Ryeowook.

___

Ryeowook’s skin is too delicate, too fair, and burns too easily, and yet she’s the one who always tugs Jongwoon to the beach or the park for picnics. Jongwoon finds them shady spots under trees and carries the picnic basket, always stuffed full to overflowing, while Ryeowook runs ahead, feet light in her slippers, sundress billowing behind her in the wind until Jongwoon catches up to her and tugs her dress down, glaring darkly at the men who are staring at her, at pale exposed thighs and neck and collarbones and slim arms.

“Wear something else next time, something that covers up,” he tells Ryeowook when they’re finally seated on a mat on the ground, safely shaded from the sun’s blazing rays, and Ryeowook looks astonished, arranging her dress so that it covers her legs, tucked demurely under her. It doesn’t do anything, though, to cover what’s up top, and Jongwoon’s torn between wanting to put a jacket around her or drink in all that perfect skin on display.

“Why?” Ryeowook asks, pouting, “it’s too warm out to wear anything more, Jongwoon.”

Jongwoon’s inclined to agree, until a jogger goes past them and almost runs into the next tree with how he’s staring at Ryeowook, and Jongwoon stands up while flinging a few choice epithets at him, and he takes off, running far quicker than he was previously.

“Jongwoon,” Ryeowook says plaintively, and Jongwoon reaches out and pulls her to him, arm curling possessively around her small shoulders.

“No one else should be looking at you,” he whispers, thumb tracing the curve where her neck slopes into her shoulder, envisioning his mouth following it, licking trails along petal-soft skin, and Ryeowook breathes into his chest, shaking her head slightly but melting into his touch.

___

Jongwoon knows that Ryeowook’s very pretty. Perhaps too pretty, he sometimes thinks, scowling as he slumps on the bench and watches a crowd of boys congregate around her, trying to get her attention. There’s Kyuhyun, whose smirk makes Jongwoon want to punch him each time; Kibum, the one who walks and acts like he’s the school’s hottest star; Sungmin, who’s close to Ryeowook and hugs her often – much too often, in Jongwoon’s opinion; and Jungsu, the noisy one with the dimple that Ryeowook seems to think is cute, for whatever reason.

In his heart of hearts, he’d be quite glad to toss every one of those boys into a burning bonfire, but nothing quite beats the sense of satisfaction he gets when Ryeowook brushes each of them away with a sweet smile and a quiet word and walks to sit with him instead, slipping her hand in his and tucking her head against his shoulder.

She’s mine, his face quite clearly tells them, until they finally slink off, and learn not to talk to Ryeowook so much, not unless they want a couple of bruises and black eyes from Jongwoon.

“Why are you so jealous all the time?” Ryeowook sighs at him. “You're the one I love, Jongwoon.”

“I can’t help it,” Jongwoon mumbles, pressing hot kisses to her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips, until she sighs again and gathers him into her, skin flushed and warm with desire.

“You’re silly,” she tells him afterwards, eyes half-closed and already sliding into sleep, and then adds, with typical obliviousness to her own desirability, “No one else ever even looks at me, it’s only you, Jongwoon.”

She’s right, Jongwoon thinks as he watches her fall asleep, hair spilling over the curve of her jaw and over her bare shoulder, the necklace with the interlinked couple rings that he’d given her months ago falling gently over the swell of her chest. No one else sees her like this, soft and vulnerable and so beautiful it’s almost painful to look at, only Jongwoon, and it fills him with a warm rush of happiness to know that this lovely girl is his.

Needs And Wants

thundersquall — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 07:03:09 GMT

Title: Needs And Wants
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,833
Summary: Yesung really, really likes Ryeowook dressed up as a girl. Inspired by Ryeowook in Chu, and by this picture.
WARNINGS: Crossdressing, rimming

A/N: For remixied, taengoo, kayevelyn, oppaaarrr, and all those people who have been bugging me for crossdressing porn, you know who you are. >_> Don't blame me if this blows. And god you guys, I'm supposed to be writing my angsty YeWook today, dammit!

___

Yesung doesn't think he's ever gotten hard so quickly in his life, standing backstage watching Ryeowook sway and pop his hips to Chu, the softly curling wig dancing over his shoulders, and Yesung can feel his pants getting tighter with every toss of Ryeowook's head. He's certain Ryeowook knows what he's doing, knows that Yesung's watching, because he's getting more and more uninhibited with each performance, and damned if Yesung's going to let his hard-on go to waste, middle of a concert or not.

So when the Chu performance ends and everyone troops backstage, still laughing and panting, Yesung wastes no time in grabbing Ryeowook, tugging him away from a shocked Shindong, and flinging him into the nearest empty dressing room before locking the door behind them. They have at least 40 minutes before they're due back on stage, after all.

He doesn't even speak, doesn't need to. He simply grabs Ryeowook by the collar of his oversized jersey and pushes him against the wall mirror, pressing their lips together messily as he licks Ryeowook's mouth open, the hair of the wig falling into his face and tickling his cheeks. It excites him more, makes him take hold of one of Ryeowook's hands and press it against his cock, straining against the material of his jeans.

"Look what you've done to me," he whispers breathily into Ryeowook's mouth. "Look how hard you've got me, Ryeowook."

Ryeowook smiles through their kiss, fingers already working at the zipper of Yesung's jeans, and Yesung knows for certain that yes, Ryeowook's been doing all this on purpose. Not that he minds, though, when Ryeowook's pulling his jeans and briefs off, sinking to his knees as he slides the material down, until Yesung can feel his hot breath on his cock and it makes him groan.

"Come on," he says, staring down at Ryeowook, jersey falling off one shoulder and curls tumbling about his face. "Baby, I need you now."

Ryeowook laughs up at him, cheeks pink with blusher and lips slick with gloss. "Someone's impatient, aren't they." He wraps a delicate hand around the base of Yesung's cock, squeezing slightly, tongue darting out to lick at the head, and Yesung groans louder, staring into the mirror and how Ryeowook's pushing his ass out just so.

"You're a fucking tease," he says through his teeth, and Ryeowook looks up at him, tucks his hair behind his ears before leaning forward and rubbing his cheek along Yesung's cock, and Yesung thinks he's going to faint if Ryeowook doesn't put his mouth over it where it belongs.

"Fuck," he bites out, and then he's grabbing Ryeowook by his hair, curls scrunched up messily in his fists, before he presses the tip of his cock against Ryeowook's lips.

"Open up," he orders, and Ryeowook does so without hesitation, taking Yesung's cock in like he's hurting for it, pretty pink lips wrapped tight and hot around it and his tongue curling around it, sending electric sparks down Yesung's spine.

"Yeah, that's it," he says huskily. "Take it all in, Ryeowook." He pushes his hips forward, hard, until his cock bumps against the back of Ryeowook's throat and sends him gagging and choking, tears welling up in his mascara-ed eyes. He doesn't let up, because he knows Ryeowook can take it, and sure enough Ryeowook's already loosening his throat, scrambling forward on his knees, hands on Yesung's hips and pushing him further into his mouth, spit running in messy trails down his chin.

"Oh, fuck yes," Yesung whispers, hands still tangled in Ryeowook's wig as he begins thrusting, slowly, in and out of Ryeowook's mouth, not giving him time to breathe but not caring anyway, because Ryeowook's sucking him like a fucking vacuum, mouth wet and tight and perfect. "God, you're gorgeous like this, Ryeowook. I almost want to stop doing this and just fuck you right now, against this mirror, so you can see how you look when you're begging for my cock. Do you want that, Ryeowook?"

Ryeowook nods frantically, lips still sealed tight around Yesung's cock, and Yesung lets go of his hair to grip his chin, holds his head still, fucks his mouth slowly and steadily.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," he orders. "Get yourself nice and prepped."

He smiles, staring at the mirror, as Ryeowook's hands fumble at his tight skinny jeans, and Yesung watches Ryeowook push them and his boxers down until they pool at his knees. He wastes no time in getting a hand around his cock, pumping in slow strokes, matching the way Yesung's fucking his mouth, and with his other hand he pushes his jersey up, bunching it under his arms, exposing himself to Yesung, all pale perfect skin and gorgeous pert ass that Yesung can just imagine squeezing around his cock.

Ryeowook fumbles for lube in the pocket of Yesung's discarded jeans, fishing out a tiny bottle, and he stops pumping himself long enough to squeeze the cold gel over his fingers. Yesung almost forgets to breathe, watching through the mirror, as Ryeowook spreads his thighs apart, places slick fingers at his entrance, pushing in with a gasp around Yesung's cock. It's hard for him, though, his jeans around his knees restricting him from spreading his thighs wide enough, and after some wriggling about he pauses and looks up at Yesung pleadingly, and Yesung understands, releases his hold on him, so he can pull off him and stand up quickly enough to kick his jeans off completely.

Before he can drop to his knees again, Yesung grabs hold of him and spins him around, pressing his face against the mirror, and Ryeowook struggles slightly, turning over his shoulder to stare at Yesung, licking his lips, wet with precome and saliva. "Hyung?" he asks, hair falling into his face.

"I'll do it," Yesung says, taking the lube from Ryeowook, coating his fingers liberally with it. 'I'm going to pass out, Ryeowook, if you make me wait any longer."

Ryeowook laughs, splaying his hands out against the mirror for support. "Quick, then." He pushes his ass out, wiggling slightly, and it isn't long before Yesung has three fingers inside Ryeowook, pressed deep in to the knuckles, twisting in just that way that he knows will make Ryeowook moan, loud and needy. "Fuck, hyung," Ryeowook gasps, as Yesung places one hand on his ass and squeezes, spreading the fingers inside him. "Hyung, quick, fuck me now."

Yesung, however, has a better idea, prompted by the way Ryeowook looks, loose and easy against the mirror, panting and flushed with the damp curls of the wig sticking to his cheekbones and his pretty little ass grinding against his hand and swallowing his fingers, tight and rough.

"Spread your legs wider, baby," he orders softly, dropping to his knees behind Ryeowook, and Ryeowook looks over quizzically at him, but does as he says, moaning a little as Yesung fans his fingers open and presses wet kisses to the backs of his thighs.

Ryeowook jerks, however, when he feels the first wet press of Yesung's tongue against his entrance, spread open by his fingers, and tosses his head back. "Hyung! Jongwoon, what - "

Yesung plunges his tongue right in, licks at his fingers inside Ryeowook, licks at him, and Ryeowook cries out loud, hips jerking against the hand Yesung has pressed against the small of his back to hold him down. Yesung pulls back, swirls his tongue teasingly around his entrance, twists his fingers, and dips back in, pressing his tongue into Ryeowook, slick and wet. He crooks his fingers, spreads Ryeowook wide open, until Ryeowook's almost sobbing, nails digging into the mirror and hips moving with a life of their own, pressing back against Yesung's tongue and hands and falling apart under the way Yesung's licking at him.

"Please," Ryeowook sobs, clutching at the smooth surface of the mirror, hands slipping on it. "Please, hyung, I can't - "

"You can," Yesung says throatily against his entrance, and Ryeowook moans, tears running down his cheeks, as he looks over his shoulder and watches Yesung pull his fingers out of him to hold him apart, spread his cheeks, and lick slow trails down the cleft of his backside and back up. He pushes his tongue back into him, listening to him cry out as he slides his fingers back inside him, wet and sticky with lube and saliva, tongue twisting against fingers and fingers wriggling inside him until Ryeowook doesn't even know which is which, reduced to a needy mess against that mirror.

"Hyung," he begs, pleads. "God, hyung, stop teasing, I need you inside me now, please - "

And then Yesung's suddenly on his feet, fingers filthy against the skin of his hips as he grips, and pulls Ryeowook onto his cock so fast that Ryeowook has barely enough time to let out a choked gasp at the feel of Yesung finally, finally filling him up like he needs and wants it, huge and hot and stretching him wide. Yesung laughs breathlessly, head spinning with how tight Ryeowook is, how he's rough and squeezing around Yesung, and he slams fully into him, pushing him right up against the mirror before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him upwards.

"Look," he orders, watching as Ryeowook's eyes flutter open, face wet with sweat and tears and make-up streaking. "Look at yourself, Ryeowook. I told you you'd be gorgeous, begging for me, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ryeowook gasps, arching his back, pushing his ass back against Yesung, grinding around his cock as he reaches down and begins jerking himself off again, pumping hard and quick. "Yes, hyung, fuck me, fuck me now so I can see it, see myself spread nice and open for you until you just come all over me - "

And Yesung loses it, slams back into Ryeowook so hard that he bangs against the mirror, and he keeps him there, hands tangled in the wig as he pounds into Ryeowook over and over, until Ryeowook cries out, body shuddering, and comes with a breathy gasp of "Jongwoon!", streaks of come splattering on the mirror and across his knuckles.

Ryeowook's still shivering and pumping himself through the aftershocks when Yesung pulls abruptly out of him and spins him around, forcing him to his knees, and finishes on his face, come landing on his delicate cheekbones, dribbling down his neck and messy in his wig, as he opens his mouth and catches the last few spurts, licking it off his lips with relish.

When it's over and Yesung falls to his knees as well next to Ryeowook, kissing him lazily and leisurely with all their earlier urgency gone, tasting the bitter salt of his own come in Ryeowook's mouth, he decides that perhaps this performance needs to go on as many times as possible. And well, once Super Show ends its run, he can always buy a couple of cute dresses for Ryeowook to dress up in.

Axis (100 SuJu Challenge)

thundersquall — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 16:27:17 GMT

Theme #17: Accidents
Title: Axis
Pairing: Ryeowook/Ryeowook, Ryeowook/everyone, eventual Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3,978
Summary: A series of little vignettes exploring Ryeowook’s relationship with each of his bandmates.

A/N: Written for katsudono, who wanted something that shows how Ryeowook interacts with all the members… though this probably didn’t turn out like how she wanted.

___

i.

Sometimes, on days when he’s alone in the dorm, Ryeowook wanders about it, dusting and cleaning and wiping off thumbprints on the shiny surfaces. People think that he cleans and cooks for the members because he’s a domestic little girl, but the plain and simple truth is that he does it because he likes it, and because he loves his members.

Most of all, he likes that everything that he does or touches reminds him of them, like when he’s rolling up the cords of Kyuhyun’s PlayStation, untangling the wires and pushing them out of the way so Kyuhyun won’t trip over them; or when he’s cleaning the tabletop and finds the smiley face Donghae carved into the wood months ago; or when he’s sorting laundry and Yesung’s scent, a mixture of cologne and musk, rises from his clothes and wraps around him.

This band, Ryeowook thinks, is the centre of his world, and it’s like he’s an axis, standing still while everyone whirls around him.

ii.

Ryeowook is secretly frightened of Heechul when he first meets him. Heechul’s brash and outspoken and fearless, all the things that Ryeowook isn’t, and Ryeowook is the newest member of an already-established group. It’s hard enough to find his feet as it is, without needing to worry about treading on the toes of his new members, and so he chooses to stay out of Heechul’s way as much as he can, hiding behind the people who are kind to him – Yesung, Leeteuk, Kangin, Sungmin.

His strategy works, at least for a month. They’re such a big group that Ryeowook can avoid him easily, until the day when Ryeowook’s recording his last song, a mere two weeks before debut, and Heechul wanders into the recording studio and stands in front of the glass window, mouth open, as Ryeowook sings his heart out, his voice clear as glass.

Heechul grabs him when he’s done and about to leave, long fingers closing with surprising strength around Ryeowook’s wrist, made thin and fragile by two months of crash dieting, and says, “Hey, Ryeowook.”

“Y – Yes?” Ryeowook says, his voice barely rising above a squeak.

“You sing so well,” Heechul says, and it’s the awe in his tone, more than anything else, that gives Ryeowook the courage to look up, and when he does, he sees that Heechul’s smiling at him, pride suffusing his face.

“Thank you,” Ryeowook mumbles, fidgeting uncomfortably; Heechul stares at him for a moment, and then snorts.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go for dinner. I’ll buy.”

“B- But I can’t – “

“I say you can, before you faint of hunger,” Heechul replies, and lets go of Ryeowook before ruffling his hair and pinching his cheek – hard enough to make Ryeowook wince, but it’s affectionate nonetheless, and Ryeowook manages a tremulous smile at him.

By the end of that first dinner, during which Heechul goes on long monologues about Yunho and Youngwoon and Donghae and Kibum, affection for his younger bandmates written all over his face, Ryeowook’s no longer afraid of Heechul.

iii.

Leeteuk may be the oldest of the group and the leader, but he’s also one of the most garrulous and outgoing members, and it doesn’t take him long to put Ryeowook at ease. Ryeowook doesn’t even mind when Leeteuk makes the decision to room with him, and he also doesn’t mind when Leeteuk insists on taking the bed against the wall, even though Ryeowook would have preferred that.

It’s through being Leeteuk’s roommate that Ryeowook discovers something about him: he’s not all that confident after all, not the in-control leader the rest of the country thinks him to be. Leeteuk suffers from stress backaches and migraines and insomnia, and he frequently lies awake at night, tossing and turning, and whenever Ryeowook looks over at him he’s looking up at the ceiling, eyes glassy and wide open.

“What are you scared of, hyung?” Ryeowook asks him one night when he’s massaging Leeteuk’s lower back, where his aches are worst, and Leeteuk smiles at him before burying his face in his pillow, hiding the twinges of pain that show on his face wherever Ryeowook’s fingers press.

“I don’t know,” he says at last. “Failure, maybe.”

“Failure?”

“Yeah,” Leeteuk mumbles. “What if we fail? What if I fail? If I make one wrong move, Super Junior fails.”

Ryeowook digs his thumbs hard into Leeteuk’s back, and he yelps and jerks upwards. “What the hell was that for?”

“We are not going to fail,” Ryeowook says firmly. “We’re good. All of us are good. We’re all talented and strong, and we’ll not only make it, we’ll make it big.”

“Do you really think so?” Leeteuk asks, flipping over on his back to stare at Ryeowook.

“Yes of course. Why would I think that my group would fail?”

Leeteuk turns at that and reaches out a hand across the space between their beds, and Ryeowook takes it, feeling Leeteuk give him a grateful little squeeze. “Thank you,” he says quietly, and Ryeowook smiles at him.

That night, and the nights after that, Ryeowook notices that Leeteuk’s sleeping better.

iv.

Ryeowook’s fascinated by Kibum from day one. Sure, Kibum’s the real magnae, but Kibum’s also the same age as he is and he feels no age gap with him. Or he wouldn’t, if not for the fact that Kibum is dashing and gorgeous and too utterly perfect, and seems much too confident and sure of himself, even as an 18-year-old.

It makes Ryeowook feel inadequate almost immediately, when he sees Kibum come back from the gym, looking healthy and tanned and all sculpted muscles, and sometimes he locks himself in the bathroom and looks at himself, his pale skin and small bones and delicate frame made smaller by prolonged dieting, and wonders why there’s only a 2 month age gap between Kibum and him when there’s so much difference in everything else.

Beyond all the quiet envy, there’s also something more, because Kibum’s nice to Ryeowook, has always been close to him and was one of the first members to offer him help when he first joined. And maybe if sometimes Ryeowook finds himself pressing a little too close to Kibum in the car if they’re seated together, or liking it a little too much when Kibum flexes his biceps laughingly in front of him and allows him to run an admiring hand over the swell of his muscles, Kibum never seems to mind.

When Kibum begins staying away and away from the dorms more, caught up in his solo acting projects, Ryeowook tells him one night, when he’s back at the dorms for a rare visit, that he misses him and he should come back more often.

Kibum only laughs and dangles his phone in front of him. “I’m just a phone call away, Ryeowook. Friendship doesn’t diminish with distance.”

Ryeowook nods and smiles and wraps his arms around Kibum in a hug. “I know,” he says, and he’s comforted enough by that.

v.

Siwon is someone Ryeowook loves to hug and be hugged by.

Perhaps it’s just because Siwon is tall and big and has a way of hugging that makes Ryeowook feel like he’s almost going to be crushed, all the breath squeezed out of him, but at the same time it makes Ryeowook feel oddly snug and secure, and he clings on to Siwon as much as he can, locking his arms around his waist and burying his face into his chest.

It helps that Siwon is just about as needy as he is in way of skinship, so he never minds it whenever Ryeowook comes to him, arms outstretched and face in a pout, and Siwon knows immediately what he wants, sweeps him up in strong arms, holds him tight and ruffles his hair, until Ryeowook finally pulls away, a broad grin on his face and his day suddenly and magically brighter.

Siwon laughs at him for it sometimes.

“You’re so needy,” he says, pinching Ryeowook’s cheek affectionately, and Ryeowook only smiles and leans in for another hug.

vi.

Any friend of Heechul’s is someone Ryeowook can be a friend of, he thinks, and he’s proven right when he’s introduced to Zhou Mi, or Seasoning as Heechul calls him.

Zhou Mi looks embarrassed every time Heechul calls him that in public, so Ryeowook makes it a point not to, referring to him as “Zhou Mi-hyung” – except that his Mandarin pronunciation is, quite frankly, terrible, and it ends up coming out as “Seasoning-hyung” anyway.

Surprisingly though, Zhou Mi never seems to mind when it’s Ryeowook. He’s fond of Ryeowook, like everyone is, and they’re drawn together by their shared love for music and singing.

Sometimes, when they’re in China, Ryeowook finds himself lying on Zhou Mi’s bony shoulder when they’re traveling between places, and Zhou Mi sings softly to him, voice blending with the sound of the car, and Ryeowook falls asleep to it.

He finds it comforting, like something secure for him to clutch in a foreign land.

vii.

Shindong is boisterous and funny and follows Ryeowook around like a puppy whenever he’s in the kitchen, dipping his fingers into everything Ryeowook makes, and even though Ryeowook chases everyone else out when he’s cooking, he never does it to Shindong, just for the pleasure of seeing Shindong’s face grow dreamy with bliss and his eyes shine extra bright whenever he tastes one of Ryeowook’s new concoctions.

There’s no one he loves to feed more than Shindong, because no one else is quite as vocal in their appreciation, and like every good cook he likes to make people happy with his food.

“Maybe if I hadn’t been in Super Junior, I’d have opened a little restaurant or something,” he tells Shindong one day while watching him eat a bowl of simple kimchi jjigae with as much gusto as a man starved for days, and Shindong grins.

“I’d be your most regular customer if you ever do,” he says, spitting out bits of cabbage in his haste, and Ryeowook laughs at him and dabs at his mouth with tissue and refills his bowl with more.

viii.

People call Ryeowook cute, but personally he thinks Sungmin’s the cutest member, all big innocent eyes and pouty lips, and sometimes he can’t help but pinch Sungmin’s cheeks, squeeze his arms, throw his arms around him and nuzzle into his shoulder, and Sungmin always responds, holding Ryeowook tightly around his waist or his neck, not unlike Siwon but somehow different.

There’s something about Sungmin that makes Ryeowook feel safe and comfortable, and even though he can’t put his finger on it, he doesn’t really care anyway, snuggling up against him when they’re watching TV or going out shopping with him. Sungmin buys accessories that he thinks look good on Ryeowook, and confides in him, and Ryeowook, for his part, is a good listener, and an even better accepter of gifts.

“I wonder if you’re the magnae, or I am,” Sungmin says one day, rubbing his cheeks, red with Ryeowook’s finger marks, and Ryeowook laughs, leaning into him with a plaintive “Hyung”, and Sungmin sighs and puts an arm around him, rubbing his shoulders in the comforting, indulgent way Ryeowook’s grown to love.

ix.

When Kyuhyun has his accident, it’s the hardest Ryeowook’s cried in years.

No one can calm him down; not Yesung, not Sungmin, not Leeteuk, and one by one the members stand around him helplessly as he cries until tears refuse to come out anymore and his voice is reduced to hoarse little gasps and his face is almost purple.

He cries himself exhausted until he falls asleep in Yesung’s arms, and for the next few days, even though the members are in and out of the hospital, he refuses to go. Not even when Sungmin calls, crying, to say that Kyuhyun’s prognosis is bleak; not even when Donghae reports that Kyuhyun’s condition has finally stabilized; and not when Leeteuk comes back beaming and announces that Kyuhyun’s finally awake.

“He’s asking for you, you know,” Yesung tells him one night, and Ryeowook tries to blink his tears away as Yesung makes him promise he’ll visit the next day.

When he finally does, the first thing he does is break down at the sight of Kyuhyun, thin and pale, surrounded by tubes and lying weak in that bed, and Kyuhyun reaches out for him, fumbles for his hand, and squeezes it.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells Ryeowook, and Ryeowook sobs harder, because that’s just what he’s been wanting to say to Kyuhyun, that he’s sorry they fought, sorry he yelled at Kyuhyun, sorry that he never even had the chance to say sorry before the accident happened.

“I almost lost you, and I never got to – ” he manages, and Kyuhyun interrupts.

“But you didn’t,” he says, and Ryeowook’s too choked up to speak, but he feels Kyuhyun squeeze his hand again and knows that he understands, knows that he knows Ryeowook’s sorry, and that he’s not going to give Ryeowook a chance to lose him again.

x.

Ryeowook remembers 2009 for two things. Neither of them has to do with Super Junior’s booming popularity and success with Sorry Sorry, or Super Junior-M’s meteoric rise with Super Girl, or the awards that the group sweeps.

The first thing is Kangin.

Kangin stumbles into the dorm in the early hours of the morning, and both Yesung and Ryeowook are woken up by the fuss and wander out into the living room to find Kangin shaking on the couch, smelling of alcohol and covered in cold sweat.

Hit-and-run. The words echo in Ryeowook’s mind, whispered by the members and the managers, breathed out in shocked gasps and staccato syllables. Hit-and-run.

While the managers are discussing among themselves the next step and the best plan of action, and the members are milling about looking alternately disbelieving, or worried, or shocked, or angry, Ryeowook’s the only one who slips off to the kitchen to make a cup of hot tea, strong and sweet the way Kangin likes it, before he brings it back out to the living room, heading towards the couch.

“Here, hyung,” he says quietly, proffering the cup, and Kangin would have reached out to take it but his hands are shaking too hard to, until Ryeowook finally puts it to his lips for him, orders him to sip slowly, makes him drink the whole cup while holding on to his hand, even though Kangin’s unknowingly gripping it so tightly that it’s turning numb.

By the time the managers decide to take Kangin to turn himself in, he’s a lot calmer, and Ryeowook gives him a hug before watching him leave.

He knows Kangin’s in the wrong, but it doesn’t make him worry for him any less.

xi.

The second thing is Hankyung.

Ryeowook, Henry, Kyuhyun, and Donghae are the only ones in their dorms in China on that day; Siwon’s out with Zhou Mi and his friends, and Hankyung – well, Hankyung’s told them he’s with his parents, but apparently he isn’t, and they find out when their manager bursts into the dorm and tells them breathlessly to stay put, not to leave the dorm, to speak to no one, and that Hankyung’s just filed a lawsuit.

It’s an uproar for days in both China and Korea, and because the company’s forbidden any contact between the members and Hankyung, there’s no way for them to know if he’s okay, or what’s really going on beyond the wild rumours and possibly inaccurate news reports, and to find out his reasons for this.

Ryeowook doesn’t even think about it. He simply locks himself in his bedroom and, wary of the fact that the company monitors all their calls, signs on to Skype and calls Hankyung’s mobile from there. It’s off, but he tries Hankyung’s mother’s mobile, their dumpling shop, and finally his home.

Hankyung’s father picks up and recognizes Ryeowook, after he identifies himself with the little Mandarin he can manage, and puts Hankyung on the phone.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Hankyung says. “I know you all hate me for this, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t want to worry you, and I – ”

“Hyung,” Ryeowook interrupts, “I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“I just want to know if this is what you really want.”

“It’s not what I want, it’s what I have to do.”

“I’ll wait for you to come back,” Ryeowook whispers. “We need you.”

There’s a long pause. “I know,” Hankyung says, and Ryeowook trusts Hankyung enough.

xii.

Eunhyuk, for all his outward playfulness, is just a child at heart.

He’s trusting and innocent enough to the point of being gullible at times, and sometimes Ryeowook takes advantage of this to weasel free meals out of him, or play tricks on him that gets him into trouble with the managers or other members. No one ever believes him when he indignantly points to Ryeowook as the culprit, until Ryeowook finally steps out and admits it, later wrapping his arms around a stiff and resistant Eunhyuk and burying his face in his shoulder, pleading for forgiveness.

Eunhyuk never stays angry at him for long, though, because even though Ryeowook’s cheeky with him, Ryeowook’s also the one who shields him from other members’ pranks, who volunteers to cook for him when he’s hungry, who cuddles and laughs with him when Donghae or Sungmin aren’t around.

“Don’t do that again,” Eunhyuk will say, attempting to look stern and failing spectacularly, and it always makes Ryeowook laugh.

“I do it only because you’re my favourite hyung,” he says teasingly, and Eunhyuk rolls his eyes and mutters, “Lies”, but he can’t stop himself from smiling anyway.

xiii.

Ryeowook knows that out of all the members, Henry’s probably the most lonely of them all.

He’s not like Zhou Mi, who, even though he was a new addition to the group as well, is Chinese along with Hankyung and on home ground in China. Henry’s more Canadian than Chinese, and is out of his depth in both Korea and China, far from friends and family and everything he’s familiar with, angry chants ringing in his ears constantly.

“It’ll stop,” Ryeowook tells him whenever he finds Henry curled up on his bed in the dorm, crying silent tears that break his heart. “Keep working hard, and one day it’ll stop, and you’ll get the love and respect you deserve.”

Henry mumbles, “I don’t believe you”, and Ryeowook blinks away his own tears, rubs his palm up and down Henry’s back, and sings to him, or makes him get up and play the violin, because it’s the only thing that truly relaxes Henry.

The day that Ryeowook hears the chanting of Henry’s name grow loud enough to drown out the stray shouts of “Only 13”, he turns to Henry with a huge grin and a shout of, “I told you so!”, and Henry laughs and throws an arm around his shoulders, and together the both of them walk down the stage platform, soaking up the applause that they’ve waited so long for.

xiv.

It’s no secret that everyone loves Donghae. Donghae is bright and open and has eyes that can charm puppies, and a heart that can love anyone and anything. Ryeowook is not immune to Donghae’s charms either – he makes sure Donghae’s birthdays are always celebrated, that he always has food when he needs it, and he may be younger but more often than not he finds himself giving in to Donghae’s wants.

It raises some grumbling sometimes, with other members, and Ryeowook gets teased for his ‘blatant favouritism’ (as Sungmin puts it), but Donghae always comes bounding up to him and pulls him close, glaring at the dissenter before announcing, “That’s because I’m good to Ryeowook, and I love him more than I love any of you.”

Ryeowook usually shoves him playfully away, laughing and calling him a liar, but he can’t deny that even though he knows it’s not true and there are people Donghae’s closer to, it still warms his heart to hear Donghae say it, just like how it makes him happy to see Donghae’s obvious delight when he does something for him.

xv.

And then there’s Yesung.

Yesung’s an enigma to Ryeowook sometimes – dark and possessive and insecure, worried about his looks, deprecating about his talent, unsure about his place in the group; and sometimes he’s as readable to Ryeowook as an open book, loud and cheerful and irrepressibly silly, wrapping Ryeowook in hugs and pressing random kisses to his forehead and cheeks that he claims are ‘accidents’, leaping to it at the first sign of Ryeowook wanting or needing anything.

Despite all these, Ryeowook remains oblivious, almost sweetly so; and nothing might ever have happened if they hadn’t moved dorms and become roommates, and Yesung develops the habit of crawling into Ryeowook’s bed late at night, wrapping himself around Ryeowook like a snug blanket, Ryeowook’s back pressed hot against his chest and their feet tangled together at the ankles.

“Why don’t you ever sleep in your own bed, hyung?” Ryeowook asks sleepily one night when he’s woken up yet again by the familiar feel of Yesung’s arms around his waist and pulling him tight against him, covers tucked in tight around both bodies.

“I can’t sleep without you,” comes the mumbled reply, and Ryeowook would have laughed at Yesung’s absurd cheesiness but drifts off to sleep instead, already comfortable enough to not be surprised or discomfited with these nightly visits.

He realizes what Yesung means, though, when he’s in China for the first time, and for the first week he tosses and turns, unable to sleep no matter how tired he is. He doesn’t figure it out at first though, not until he’s on the phone with Yesung one night and Yesung casually mentions that he hasn’t been sleeping without Ryeowook.

That same night, Ryeowook climbs into Donghae’s bed and tries to sleep curled up next to his warmth; the next night, he tries Henry, then Siwon, then Zhou Mi, and finally Kyuhyun and Hankyung.

He still doesn’t manage to sleep well. He doesn’t until he’s back in Korea and Yesung’s wound around him like a cocoon, whispering things that Ryeowook only half-hears because he’s kissing him, soft and sweet and perfect, and it’s not accidental this time.

xvi.

It's all too soon before the members come back slowly in ones and twos, loud chattering breaking the peaceful silence as they wander in and fling themselves on the couch, calling cheerful greetings to Ryeowook, and not really noticing that the dorm’s a lot neater and shinier than it was when they first went out.

Ryeowook doesn’t mind, though, because he loves his members, and it doesn’t matter if sometimes they’re a little insensitive, or unmindful of his efforts, because –

“I’m home,” a familiar husky voice calls out, and when Ryeowook turns, a smile already growing on his face, it’s to see Yesung striding towards him and then cupping his face in his hands, running critical eyes over him.

“You’re all sweaty, and you look so tired,” he says, cleaning off a smudge of dirt on Ryeowook’s cheek with his thumb. “You were cleaning up after them again, weren’t you?”

Ryeowook just smiles, and Yesung makes a little noise of disapproval. “You’re spoiling them, and they take you for granted.”

“It’s okay,” Ryeowook says, shrugging. “I had nothing to do anyway, and it’s not like I don’t like it.” He leans in for a hug, and Yesung obliges, dropping a kiss on his forehead as he does so.

– because the most important person notices, and that’s all Ryeowook really needs.

3 Drabbles

thundersquall — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 17:18:25 GMT

Have 3 drabbles I wrote for the 15-minute challenges in kpopficwangst 9.0, which will probably go down in meme legend, seriously. Go here to see all the drabbles for all challenges, archived by fandom and pairing, and there are a LOT of amazing ones. Thank you to the archiving!anon, whoever you are, for you hard work in archiving these, and to everyeveryday for giving me the link!

Theme #50: Lost
Title: Running High
Pairing: Heechul/Kyuhyun
Rating: R
Word count: 283
Summary: Based on the prompt "I started using speed for his attention and affection. All I got was addicted."
WARNING: Drug abuse
A/N: Decided to use this for the 100 challenge too, because I am just lazy that way, ROFL.

It's the biggest rush Kyuhyun's ever had, bigger even than when he finds himself locked in a tiny bathroom with Heechul that evening, both of them hunched over the covered bowl on which Heechul is frantically chopping up small white rocky chunks with his credit card, hands shaking and sweaty with need.

"Fuck," Heechul swears when his hand slips and sweeps a fine dusting of white powder on to the grimy floor of the club bathroom. "Fuck, Kyuhyun, get that." He's slurring, thoughts no longer making sense and speech almost incoherent with how much he's shaking, how lost he is in his need.

"I can't," Kyuhyun responds. Heechul looks up at him, pupils mere pinpricks in his eyes and a sheen of sweat on his pretty face, and Kyuhyun reaches out, puts a steadier hand on Heechul's, guides him into sweeping whatever's left over into thin white lines.

"Here," Kyuhyun says smoothly, rolling up a crisp won note and placing it at the tip of one of the lines. "Come on, hyung." He beckons with his free hand, and as if hypnotised Heechul leans forward, fits his nose over the little funnel Kyuhyun's made with the note, and inhales as hard as he can until his eyes are rolling up into the back of his head and his knuckles are white with how tightly he's gripping the toilet bowl.

So when Kyuhyun finally finds himself pressed against the cubicle wall by Heechul, who’s panting, eyes bright and dilated, edges of his nose rimmed in red from the snorting, he just smiles as he drags his teeth over Heechul's jaw, feeling the rush from having this much power and control over a human being.

Title: Mistakes happen (so let's just do it again)
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 535
Summary: Based on the prompt "Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once." Also inspired by this video of Ryeowook doing Gee.

When Jongwoon sees her for the first time, at Jungsu’s newly-opened café, he does a double-take. She's quite possibly the cutest thing he's ever seen, all sparkling eyes and a winsome smile that highlights prominent cheekbones, and with her hair caught into two ponytails she looks all of 16.

"Hey, who's she?" he asks, leaning over the counter and nudging Jungsu, who spares the girl no more than a quick frazzled glance before he's back to screaming at Donghae to work faster, clean up his mess, and can he please not drop the glasses?

"Jungsu," Jongwoon repeats, loudly, and Jungsu tosses him a don't you dare get up to any shenanigans in my café look.

"I don’t know," he says, harassed. "Never seen her before. New customer, probably."

"She's cute," Jongwoon muses.

"She's possibly also young enough to land you in jail if you touch her," Jungsu says, but Jongwoon only smirks and slides off his stool, slipping into the booth next to the girl and watching as her fingers, delicate and thin, swirl distractedly around the rim of her glass of iced tea.

"Waiting for someone?" Jongwoon asks with as much charisma as he can muster, and the girl jumps, looks up at him, and flushes an incredibly appealing pink before she bites her equally pink lip and shakes her head.

"Maybe I can keep you company then," he says, turning more towards her and making sure his knee's nudging her thigh, which, from the glimpse he can catch from under the table, is a very pretty thigh indeed, shown off by a short skirt and knee socks. "What’s your name, cutie? I'm Jongwoon."

The girl looks up at him again and shakes her head once more, and Jongwoon moves in even closer to her, crowding her, and he's pleased to see her start to tremble and her hands clench and unclench into tight nervous fists.

"Come on," he coaxes. "Talk to me."

The girl flicks her eyes at him, and then says hesitantly, in a surprisingly low voice, "I'm sorry but – I'm not a girl. Please, I was made to do this for a dare. Please don't bother me, sir."

Jongwoon's mind spins for a moment as he absorbs the girl's – no, the boy's - words. He can hardly believe it, but close up, he sees the little things – a jaw that's a tad too strong for a girl, a hint of an adam's apple – and he wonders how he didn't see it beforehand.

But just then the boy raises a hand to his ponytail and tugs at it self-consciously, and with that one movement Jongwoon decides that his one mistake isn't worth leaving this boy alone. Besides, he's as cute as a boy as he was being a girl.

"I don't mind," he says, grin splitting his face wide, and this time the boy stops fidgeting and looks at him from behind mascara-ed lashes, demeanour suddenly more coquettish than shy.

"In that case, I'm Ryeowook," he says, fingers dropping to his lap and pulling at his skirt, stroking over the smooth skin of his thighs, and Jongwoon grins even more.

This is going to be a good day.

Title: Paradisiacal
Pairing: Jonghyun/Key (SHINee)
Rating: R
Word count: 545
Summary: Based on the prompt "I had gay sex at church camp. 3 times."
A/N: My first time writing SHINee. I honestly have no idea what compelled me to do it, but I just felt like it. And it helps that I like both Jonghyun and Key. Concrit would be nice, since I know next to nothing about this pair! =D

The first time it happened, Jonghyun was seated at the mess table, head bowed in the middle of saying grace, when he felt a warm pressure on his thigh, and looked up just enough to see Kibum shooting a look at him from under lowered lashes. The look plainly said shut up if you don't want problems, and so Jonghyun, used to Kibum's random quirks, closed his eyes again and groped for Kibum's hand on his leg, thinking that it was all Kibum wanted, to hold on to someone while praying.

Kibum, however, moved his hand away before Jonghyun got hold of it - moved his hand up, alarmingly high. And up; and up. And before Jonghyun knew it, there were fingers fiddling at his zipper and the heel of Kibum's hand was pressing firmly against his dick and he was too shocked to do anything but snap his eyes wide open and stare at his church camp bunkmate.

Kibum only smiled at him, devious and wicked, and mouthed, Shhh, before his hand was – oh God – in his pants and his fingers were around his cock and he was stroking Jonghyun to life, under the table in the middle of grace, people surrounding them, heads bowed and eyes closed in silent prayer.

Jonghyun came just as the pastor stopped speaking, and Kibum discreetly wiped his hand on a napkin before eating like nothing had happened.

__

The second time it happened was in the showers.

With so many wet, naked boys sharing the communal showers day in and day out, Jonghyun was never sure why Kibum fixated on him. But fixate on him he did, following him into the bathroom a few days after the ‘incident’ at the mess hall, and pushed him against the wall of the only cubicle with its own door before sinking to his knees and taking him in his mouth. And outside their campmates bantered and laughed and chased each other around, throwing soap and doing all the normal things normal boys do.

Jonghyun wasn't too aware of them, though, nor did he really much care that what Kibum and he were doing was certainly not what most normal boys did. Not when Kibum's hands and tongue were working on him in that way, and he came with a barely stifled gasp, biting into the back of his hand.

___

The third time it happened, Kibum invited himself into Jonghyun's adjoining bunk bed. It wasn't like Jonghyun hadn't expected it - days of teasing touches and pointed glances had not only prepared him, but made him anticipate it - but he was still surprised to be woken up in the dead of night by Kibum on top of him, rolling his hips against him, whispering his name into his ear.

He fucked Kibum right there, on the tiny single bed, Kibum's legs thrown over his shoulders as he bit into Jonghyun's pillow to muffle his moans, but Jonghyun still heard every soft gasp, every hiss and choked plea, more than he heard the cacophony of their campmates snoring around them.

When he finally came, releasing himself into Kibum's tight hotness, Jonghyun swore he was in heaven - a better one than any church camp could bring him to.

Crossing Paths (100 SuJu Challenge)

thundersquall — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 15:31:23 GMT

Theme #21: Park Benches
Title: Crossing Paths
Pairing: Yesung/Kyuhyun
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,638
Summary: Jongwoon meets and falls for a busker with a beautiful voice, on his evening jogs at the park.

A/N: For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the term 'busking', here's a Wikipedia article on the practice.

___

It’s a ritual for Jongwoon to go jogging every evening at the park near his house, puffing and perspiring, baked by the sun or soaked in the rain as the weather pleases. It doesn’t really matter to him, because he enjoys his exercise routine, and he doesn’t stop for anything, except the busker who sits on a bench near the end of his jogging route and sings.

Under normal circumstances, Jongwoon wouldn’t stop for anything or anyone in the world, caught up as he is in every heavy step and each painful breath. But there’s something about that busker’s voice that makes Jongwoon slow down and then stop, chest heaving, as he takes in the lovely notes of his voice.

He’s always there on most fine days, a lean, lanky young man with a rich mellow voice that puts images of smoky jazz clubs and warm caramel into Jongwoon’s mind. He’s also got the prettiest eyes Jongwoon’s ever seen, he thinks, expressive and long-lashed and strangely sad. In fact, Jongwoon’s probably more taken with his eyes than with his voice, because the first time he’d seen the busker, his eyes had locked onto Jongwoon’s face and stared at him, slightly unfocused but beautiful, blinking slowly against the sunlight behind Jongwoon, and Jongwoon had stopped and stared back.

Jongwoon never stops for more than one song, however. He listens to the busker sing, and when he finishes, he drops a few notes (he’d learned to carry some money tucked into the pocket of his jogging shorts after the first few times) into the little box on the bench next to the busker, which usually has nothing more than a pathetic handful of coins lying in it. Sometimes the busker inclines his head and smiles a little in thanks; sometimes he doesn’t, instead launching into another slow melody and appearing not to notice Jongwoon at all.

Jongwoon wishes he can stand there all day and listen to – or watch – him sing, except that the busker would probably start thinking he’s a stalker and call the police on him. He can’t help wondering more about him though – why is a young healthy man like him busking? Where does he live? Does he sit there and sing all day for an amount of money that’s probably just enough to buy him a couple of meals each day and nothing more? How does he survive?

If Jongwoon admits it to himself, that’s another reason why he doesn’t stay there listening to the busker – he shouldn’t even be having so much interest in the life of a person he doesn’t know at all.

___

Jongwoon’s slightly late for his jog one evening, as he’s been stuck in the office, but he sets off anyway, unconsciously running faster than usual, just so he can reach the bench where the busker is, because he doesn’t know when he packs up and leaves for the day.

He’s relieved when he reaches the spot and the busker is still there, singing as usual, voice like butter on the evening air, and he stops, panting as he tries to catch his breath, allowing the notes of the song to wash over him. Jongwoon recognizes it; it’s an old classic, slow and melancholy, and a song that he loves, and he digs in his pocket for money, pulling out more than he normally does before walking over and dropping the notes into the box.

That’s when he notices something strange for the first time; the busker’s looking straight ahead, not noticing Jongwoon right next to him, staring directly into the harsh light of the setting sun and not blinking at all. He reaches out, hand barely brushing across Jongwoon, and takes the box into his lap, where he covers it with a lid and puts it into a backpack, before fumbling under the bench and pulling out something.

And as Jongwoon watches, the busker slings his bag over his shoulder and walks away slowly, the cane he pulled out from under the bench making soft rhythmic tap tap tap sounds on the path, his eyes still wide open and staring at nothing, and Jongwoon realizes: the boy is blind.

___

The next day, when he stops as usual next to the busker, he bends down to place his notes in the box, but instead of just dropping them in he pushes at the coins inside so they clink against each other, and the busker stiffens, cutting his song off abruptly and turning his head in Jongwoon’s direction.

“Hello?” he says, his speaking voice slightly deeper than his singing one, but no less entrancing, and Jongwoon feels inexplicably sad at how the busker’s looking straight at him, but not seeing him.

“Hi,” he says quickly in return. “I’m sorry for startling you, I was just… giving something.” He pauses awkwardly, not sure how to phrase his words in a way that doesn’t sound demeaning.

The busker smiles though, and to Jongwoon that smile makes him look much younger, somehow, brightening his face and wiping away the sadness in his eyes, and he smiles back even though he knows the boy can’t see him.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the busker says. “But it’s just that there have been a few times when the money in my box was stolen, so I’m more wary nowadays.”

Jongwoon steps back quickly from the bench. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, and the busker shrugs.

“It happens,” he says quietly. “That’s a disadvantage when you can’t see who’s coming near you.” The sadness settles over his eyes again, and Jongwoon casts about for something to say.

“Well, you’re good,” he begins, fidgeting. “You sing really well, I like your voice.”

The busker smiles, and tilts his head in Jongwoon’s general direction. “Thanks.” He takes a deep breath and begins to sing again, voice starting out soft and swelling slowly like a wave, and Jongwoon stands stock-still, watching him, watching how he sways ever so slightly to the song, how his eyes stare ahead, perfectly-formed and beautiful but blank.

When his song ends, Jongwoon blinks away the tears in his own eyes and claps before thanking him, and the busker nods before taking up his cane and his box.

“What’s your name?” Jongwoon calls after him as he makes to walk away, and he pauses, the tip of his cane dragging over the gravel on the path.

“Kyuhyun,” he says, and Jongwoon lets out a long breath he hasn’t realized he’s been holding.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he promises, and Kyuhyun shrugs again before walking away slowly, leaving Jongwoon behind.

___

“I’m Jongwoon,” he tells Kyuhyun a few days later, watching as he packs up and prepares to leave.

“Nice meeting you,” Kyuhyun says, smiling a little, as if they haven’t been talking already every day, and Jongwoon can’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of that. Kyuhyun’s rather taciturn though, not that Jongwoon can blame him for having his defenses up.

But this time, instead of just watching Kyuhyun as he walks away, he falls into step next to him, following as Kyuhyun taps ahead of him with his cane, mouthing silently under his breath to count the number of steps he’s taking.

“Are you going home?” Jongwoon asks, taking Kyuhyun’s arm to steer him gently in the right direction; he keeps his hand on Kyuhyun’s elbow and is slightly surprised at how natural it feels, and Kyuhyun doesn’t seem to mind either, stiffening at first but then relaxing the moment he hears Jongwoon’s voice.

“Yeah,” Kyuhyun replies, keeping on with his slow but steady pace, looking straight ahead with those beautiful glassy eyes. “Don’t you normally leave at this time too?”

"I –" and here Jongwoon pauses, not too sure what to say. He’s still holding Kyuhyun’s arm and the warmth of Kyuhyun’s skin through his t-shirt is making his thoughts a little hazy, even as the bone of his elbow protrudes almost painfully and pushes into Jongwoon’s palm.

“I was going to get dinner,” he says impulsively, noting how they’re almost at the end of the path; he can hear the cars whizzing by on the main road outside the park already, and soon enough they’ll reach the road and go their separate ways. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

The soft tap tap of Kyuhyun’s cane stops, and so does Kyuhyun himself. He tenses up in Jongwoon’s hold, and Jongwoon immediately opens his mouth to sputter, to correct himself, to take back his words, but Kyuhyun turns his head towards him, looking past him at nothing.

“Okay,” he says simply, and Jongwoon coughs, his words of apology tripping over each other as they threaten to spill out of him, and for the first time since Jongwoon’s met him, Kyuhyun laughs.

He sounds like heaven to Jongwoon.

___

Jongwoon finds that, perhaps more than Kyuhyun’s singing, he likes to hear Kyuhyun laugh, watch how his face lights up and his eyes sparkle when he does. He takes Kyuhyun for dinner every night, making sure he’s comfortable and fully fed, falling over himself to say or do something silly, anything to coax a smile or laugh out of Kyuhyun.

Kyuhyun’s silent most of the time, but he talks enough, enough for Jongwoon to learn that he’s 22 years old, an orphan who lives alone, and he’s surviving on disability benefits and what he earns from busking.

“I was blind since birth,” Kyuhyun confides in him one night after dinner, caressing his cane with his fingers, and Jongwoon finds himself drawn by the graceful movements of his hands, almost hypnotized.

“And then?”

“My parents died in an accident when I was fifteen,” Kyuhyun says, smiling again, except this time the smile is bitter and tears at Jongwoon. “I’m luckier than most, though – my parents cared a lot for me, they enrolled me in a school where I learnt Braille, and when they passed away, they left me their house and a little sum of money.” He sighs and looks down, fingers trailing over the metal cane. “I’m comfortable, I guess. I like singing, and it brings me enough, and I’m happy with what I have.”

He stops there, but Jongwoon catches the words left unspoken and sees the gleam of tears in Kyuhyun’s glassy eyes, and on impulse he takes hold of Kyuhyun’s hands and presses them to his lips, placing kisses to the fingertips. Kyuhyun jerks back a little in shock, but when Jongwoon whispers hoarsely against the pads of his fingers, “I’m sorry to hear that, Kyuhyun”, he relaxes, hands limp against Jongwoon’s mouth and fingers fluttering over his cheeks as if to map out the curves of his face.

___

Kyuhyun likes to feel Jongwoon’s face, likes to run his fingertips from the bridge of his nose to the bow of his lips, trace the line of his jaw and rub his knuckles over the stubble at Jongwoon’s jaw before following his fingers with his lips, leaving wet spots as he hums against Jongwoon’s skin.

It’s the only way he can ‘see’ Jongwoon, even when Jongwoon’s face is mirrored in his eyes.

___

“I love you, Kyuhyun,” Jongwoon blurts out one day when they’re in the park and on the bench where they first met, Kyuhyun singing softly into the evening air, his voice rich and smooth on Jongwoon’s ears.

He stops singing, however, when Jongwoon says that, the notes trailing off into nothing, and he turns his head in Jongwoon’s direction, frowning.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” Jongwoon says, bemused. “I – I love you.”

He’s stunned by the change that comes over Kyuhyun; his expression turns frosty and he sets his shoulders squarely before bending down for his cane. Jongwoon takes it up and hands it to him, like he always does, and Kyuhyun almost snatches it out of his hands before rising to his feet and walking away, faster than he ever has, his cane making loud, angry clacking noises on the path.

“Kyuhyun?” Jongwoon calls, hurrying after him. “Kyuhyun, what’s wrong?”

He grabs Kyuhyun’s arm and Kyuhyun flings him away so fast that he almost stumbles, and before he can recover Kyuhyun snaps, “Don’t say things you don’t mean, hyung. Don’t say things like that when you know it’s not going to happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just a blind busker,” Kyuhyun spits out. “That’s all I am. You don’t want someone like me, you want someone normal, someone you can be proud of and show off. Play with me and use me to occupy your time all you will, but don’t say that word when you don’t mean it.”

He walks off, leaving Jongwoon behind, stunned and feeling as if his blood’s frozen in his veins.

___

Kyuhyun isn’t at the bench the next day, or the day after, or the week after, weeks that melt slowly into months.

Jongwoon still goes there and sits every evening, straining to hear the familiar soothing tones of Kyuhyun’s voice. He never hears it, but it doesn’t stop him from going there anyway, hoping against hope to see him again.

When four months pass without Kyuhyun appearing at the bench, Jongwoon finally gives up. He puts his time with Kyuhyun aside, changing his jogging route so he won’t have to go past that old bench again, and sometimes – only sometimes, when he’s restless and tired and his thoughts well up, unchecked, in his mind – does he think about the beautiful boy with the beautiful voice and the sad sightless eyes.

___

It’s been a year since his last encounter with Kyuhyun, and Jongwoon doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he’s compelled to diverge from his usual route and go along that path he used to jog on so long ago, where Kyuhyun would be on the way, sitting on a small wooden bench with his box and singing.

Perhaps it’s just that he misses Kyuhyun - has been missing Kyuhyun, especially as the one-year mark of their meeting draws closer – but he wanders down that path, feet crunching on leaves and gravel, and he’s not even within sight of the bench when he hears the familiar voice floating towards him.

Almost immediately his chest swells up with excitement and disbelief, and even though it’s practically hurting to breathe and his muscles are fatigued, he puts an extra burst of speed in, sprinting until he’s at the bench, standing before it with his chest heaving, and there’s Kyuhyun, sitting on it like he used to, staring right into the setting sun and singing.

Jongwoon drops to his knees next to Kyuhyun and takes his hands in his, too overcome to speak, and Kyuhyun tenses up and snarls, "Who’s this?", but Jongwoon presses his hands to his sweat-slick face like he used to.

“Jongwoon-hyung?” Kyuhyun whispers, his eyes wide and face stunned, his fingers feeling like sticks because he’s stiff with shock, and Jongwoon can only nod into Kyuhyun’s palms.

___

“I’m just a busker,” Kyuhyun repeats later. “I’m just a useless busker – “ and Jongwoon shushes him with his lips, kissing him until he’s silent, his hands digging into Jongwoon’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Jongwoon murmurs. “I love you, Kyuhyun, why did you leave?”

Kyuhyun turns his head away, and that gesture breaks Jongwoon’s heart, especially when Kyuhyun whispers brokenly, “So that you wouldn’t leave first.”

Jongwoon pulls Kyuhyun’s hands and kisses the knuckles one by one. “I wouldn’t,” he says. “Kyuhyun, I waited for you for a year.”

Kyuhyun doesn’t reply, but he fans his fingers out and runs them over Jongwoon’s lips like he used to, his touch familiar and sweet, and Jongwoon, for the first time in a year, feels truly content.

The Perfect Wedding

thundersquall — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 10:07:35 GMT

Title: The Perfect Wedding
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,703
Summary: Yesung and Ryeowook get married. The members chip in one by one to 'help'.

A/N: Just... a really fail attempt at crack. Really, REALLY fail. Written for kayevelyn, who came up with the idea. I'm sorry Kate, I will make this fail up to you somehow. ;___; Thanks to blahnicity and oh_hesitate for ~~forcing~~ encouraging me to post this. (Goddammit Nina you will be disappointed in this, I swear you will be, now kick me to finish historical fic which will at least be epically long. =/)

___

It was not a surprise to most of the members when Ryeowook and Yesung announced that they were getting married, but it did shock most of them when they insisted that they wanted to get married in an actual ceremony. With a church and a priest and "flowers everywhere!", or so Ryeowook said, with gleaming eyes and the biggest grin on his face, Yesung standing behind him and throwing his chest out like it was the best idea Ryeowook had ever had.

"That is not going to happen," Siwon said, looking scandalised.

"That is not going to happen in my church," Kyuhyun said immediately. "I still sing there."

"That is certainly not going to happen," Leeteuk said, appalled. "You're idols, for God's sake. You can't just walk out and go into a church and expect to be married by a priest. No."

"Hyung, I think that's the least of their problems if -" Siwon began, but Ryeowook looked at him, eyes wide and hopeful and pleading, and he deflated.

"I think you'll find that we certainly can be married in a church if we want to," Yesung said, rocking back and forth on his heels in an irritatingly smug manner; it made Leeteuk want to hit him.

"How? How?" he demanded.

Ryeowook snapped his fingers, and from behind Yesung, someone crept out, someone that none of them had noticed was missing from where they were gathered together: Henry, red in the face and arms held out in front of him in a conciliatory gesture.

Leeteuk stared at him, dumbfounded. "And your point is?"

Ryeowook smiled; it was a beautifully sweet, innocent smile on the surface, but there was a touch of steel behind it that sent shivers down the spines of everyone there, and Sungmin rubbed unconsciously at the gooseflesh on his arms. "Meet Henry," he said. "He's our ticket and guide to Canada, where, I am told, they will marry us in a church. And he'll find us a nice church, and a hotel, and be our legal advisor of sorts while we're there."

Leeteuk took one look at Yesung, glaring daggers at anyone who looked even the least bit hesitant about this plan, and groaned. "And who is going to tell the management about this, who is going to persuade them to let us go to Canada, who is going to plan everyone's schedules so that we're all free for this?"

Ryeowook smiled at him and leaned back against Yesung. "Why, you, leader, of course."

___

Siwon ignored Ryeowook and Yesung for the next two days. Not even Ryeowook making his favourite dish for six meals in a row could tempt him to so much as look in their direction.

Ryeowook cornered him in Hyukjae's room one day when he was visiting the dorm, and found him sitting on Hyukjae's bed, looking through the Bible disconsolately. Ryeowook's heart sank, but he sat down next to Siwon anyway, and Siwon looked up when he felt the bed dip.

"Oh, it's you," he said, and looked back down, thumbs flipping the thin pages.

"Hyung, I really need to talk to you," Ryeowook began, but Siwon held a hand up.

"Ryeowook, you know that God made man, and then He made woman, right?"

Ryeowook gulped. "Uh... yes?"

Siwon looked up at him. "Woman, Ryeowook. Woman. Not man." His eyes dropped pointedly to Ryeowook's crotch, and Ryeowook unconsciously clapped his hand over it.

"I - I'm a man," he said, feeling surreptitiously to make sure. Siwon creeped him out sometimes.

"That's the whole point," Siwon said, frowning. "You're a man, and so is Yesung-hyung, and - "

Ryeowook leaned forward and took Siwon's hands in his own. "Hyung," he began softly, "actually, Jongwoon and I were thinking of asking you to - well, would you like to be the one doing the reading of Scripture passages? During the ceremony?"

The look on Siwon's face could not have changed more drastically if Ryeowook had just told him he wanted to be a priest, or something. He literally glowed with fervour, and Ryeowook snatched his hands back, leaning a little backwards and away from the bright glow.

"Me? Me, Ryeowook, doing the readings?"

"Yes," Ryeowook said, wondering if he'd done the right thing by suggesting this.

"I would love to," Siwon said fervently. "I will pick the best passages for the both of you."

Ryeowook grinned. "I knew I could count on you, Siwon-hyung."

When he left, Siwon was still bent over the Bible, muttering under his breath about find that passage about love and faithfulness, yes and oh that one where the wife must obey her husband, yes, and adultery is a sin, i ought to remind them, yes.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea Ryeowook had ever had, but at least Siwon's presence was guaranteed.

___

"No."

"Please please hyung please pretty please and I promise I won't lose it and I will keep it safe and - "

"I said no, Donghae!"

"But hyung I want to do something for you and Ryeowook and I don't know what else I can do and I would love to do this and it would be an honour and - "

"Donghae," Yesung snarled. "This ring cost half my house. You are not going anywhere near it, much less be our ring bearer."

Donghae was almost hopping by now, urgency exuding from every pore. "But it's not fair that everyone gets to do something while I don't and you need a ring bearer, don't you, and - "

"No!" Yesung roared. "You will do something silly and lose it, I know you will."

Donghae's eyes were glistening with tears by now, but Yesung stood firm, until Ryeowook sighed and piped up. "Just let him do it, Jongwoon."

Yesung could only stand, head drooping, as Donghae yelled in happiness and grabbed the ring box, brandishing it in triumph. He was stopped, however, when Ryeowook got up and firmly prised the box out of his hand.

"You'll only get it on the wedding day, hyung," he said, and Donghae pouted but gave in.

___

Heechul flounced into Yesung and Ryeowook's hotel room, the first night they were in Canada, and announced that he would be in charge of decorating the church.

Yesung was about to say that he'd rather leave the church bare than allow Heechul to decorate it, but before he could speak, Ryeowook was on his knees on the bed, looking up at Heechul with shining eyes and squeaking, "Flowers? Flowers everywhere, hyung? Lots of flowers?"

"Yes, yes," Heechul said indulgently. "Every flower you can think of, I'm going to fill the church with them."

Ryeowook laughed and hugged Heechul in thanks, and that was it. Yesung couldn't say no.

But when Heechul was gone, Yesung said to Ryeowook, "Are you sure we should let Heechul-hyung do it?"

"Why not?"

"Because now I'm having visuals of the church being completely covered in pink crepe paper or whatever you call those things. It will be ugly and obnoxious and an eyesore, Ryeowook, and it's our wedding."

Ryeowook shrugged. "Well, I don't mind pink."

Yesung shut his eyes and hoped for the best.

___

Kangin had somehow appointed himself chief tailor for Yesung, while Kibum was tasked with helping Ryeowook pick out a suit.

Kibum complained all the way. "I do not appreciate having to go shopping with Ryeowook, he never stops!"

Kangin and Yesung, on the other hand, were having fun; Kangin had insisted on being Yesung's best man ("A ceremony like this does not require a best man!" Leeteuk had shrieked, but was shot down by both of them), and they were indulging their vanity by parading in front of each other in a myriad of different suits. Ryeowook, at the other end of the posh little boutique, couldn't resist sneaking looks at Yesung every once in a while - though he did veto the horrible royal purple suit with the frilled shirt and cuffs.

"How's this, Kibum?" Ryeowook asked for what Kibum thought was the umpteenth time. He was lounging on a couch in front of the changing room, sipping at tea and trying not to yawn.

"Kibum..."

"The previous one," he interrupted. "That one is nicer."

"Really?" Ryeowook asked doubtfully. "But in that one the collar was - "

Kibum set his cup of tea down with a loud clack. "Ryeowook," he said, almost growling.

"Yes?"

"You would look good in anything, dammit. Can you just get that suit I told you to get and go?"

"But it - "

"The pants are tighter and show off your legs and ass better, and Jongwoon-hyung will love it," Kibum said loudly, and it gave Ryeowook pause for thought.

He bought the suit Kibum selected, in the end.

___

Ryeowook became extremely suspicious when Shindong, Hankyung and Hyukjae began locking themselves up in a hotel room for hours on end, sometimes not coming out even for meals. That set red flags off in his mind, because since when did Shindong skip meals?

He borrowed the key to their room from Leeteuk (he had insisted on keeping the keys to everyone's rooms, to prevent Yesung from getting his hands on them and slipping into their rooms to touch their faces, especially when he was so near his marriage date), and slipped quietly inside when he knew they'd be in there. He wished almost immediately, though, that he hadn't, because God knew he had no desire to see any of them in skimpy ballet leotards and tank tops, much less all three at the same time.

"What the fuck," he said aloud, and the three of them jumped; Hyukjae punctuated it with a high-pitched girly shriek which, considering the circumstances, was rather apt.

"Ryeowook!" Hankyung yelled, trying to hide behind Shindong, who was pulling at the comforter on the bed and trying to shield them behind it. "What are you doing here?"

"I think I should be asking the three of you that!" Ryeowook snapped. "What's with the ballet outfits?"

It turned out that the three of them, desperate to do something for Ryeowook and Yesung, had hit upon the idea of dancing at the wedding, since dance was something they all did well. But Hyukjae had pointed out that popping and hip thrusts would not be quite appropriate at a wedding, and Hankyung had offered to teach them some ballet.

"So that we can, you know, twirl and whirl like pretty swans at the ceremony," Hankyung said, his eyes shining, and Ryeowook suppressed a shudder.

"Hyung," he began, and three pairs of eyes looked up at him. "Hyung, I appreciate the thought, but... you don't have to do anything."

"What?" Shindong said, stunned.

"Really, you don't need to. I don't want you to," Ryeowook said firmly, and he would have felt bad at the dejected faces if he didn't have visions of the three of them prancing about in ballet costumes in the church.

"But... we want to," Hyukjae said. "We feel bad, everyone has something to do but we just..."

Ryeowook crouched down next to him and took his hands in his. "Hyung," he said softly, "I'm happy as long as the three of you are there with me."

___

Sungmin barged into their room the night before their wedding with a face like thunder, and Yesung took one look and groaned.

"What is it now?" he asked wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose; he'd only just managed to persuade Heechul to use only pale pastels in the decorations and flowers, and to lay off any red or shocking pink. He was tired, and not in the mood to deal with an obviously mad Sungmin.

"You asked Kyuhyun to sing with Zhou Mi," Sungmin hissed, jabbing Yesung in the chest; Yesung flinched back.

"I did," he said. "Or, well, I asked Kyuhyun to, and Zhou Mi came later and asked to sing a duet with him."

"And you got Henry to play the violin."

"Yeah, so?"

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

Sungmin frowned. "I can't believe you asked them to sing for you, and not me! What kind of a friend are you? Have you not heard of KRYS? Or KRYZS? I can sing just as well as any of you, hyung! Where do you get off leaving me out of this?"

Yesung blinked at him. "Well, you never asked."

"I am asking now," Sungmin snarled, and in the blink of an eye Yesung found himself face-down on the bed, Sungmin straddling him and his arms twisted backwards at an impossibly painful angle.

"Sungmin - let go of - ouch!"

Sungmin dug one knee viciously into the small of his back. "I am asking now, hyung. Nicely."

"Fuck you, all right, you can sing with Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi, just let me go, for fuck's sake -"

Sungmin released him, and he flipped over onto his back, wincing. "You could have broken something, and it's the day before my wedding!" he yelled, and Sungmin merely grinned at him, all wide sparkling eyes and adorableness.

"I've changed my mind, actually, I don't want to sing anymore," he announced, and Yesung blinked at him.

"What are you playing at now, Sungmin?"

"I'd rather play the piano to accompany them, I think," Sungmin said. "It would sound good with Henry's violin too, wouldn't it?"

"God, do whatever you want," Yesung snapped, throwing an arm across his eyes, and Sungmin bounced out of the room, leaving a very bemused and bruised Yesung behind.

___

Ryeowook was shaking when he and Yesung arrived at the church, and Heechul leaned over as he got out of the car and gave him a quick squeeze.

"Nervous?" he asked, and Ryeowook nodded.

"Only because we don't know what you did with the decorations," Jongwoon interrupted, and Heechul elbowed him in the ribs before leading them in.

But it was classy - very classy, yellow roses and white lilies at every pew and in every corner. No alarmingly large signs, no obnoxious "Jongwoon loves Ryeowook" hearts, nothing even near pink. The only thing that looked out of place was a stand of flowers behind the podium where Siwon would be for the readings, a huge confection of red roses and ribbons that was completely at odds with the understated hues Heechul had used.

"What in the world is that for?" Ryeowook whispered to Heechul, taken aback.

"I decided this wedding needed something bright and exciting and loud. To, you know, symbolise your sex life, which is pretty much loud, by all accounts."

Ryeowook blushed almost as red as the roses.

___

Siwon was near tears by the time he finished reading the famous passage from 1 Corinthians 13:4, and was blubbering when he stumbled back to his pew; Hankyung put a comforting arm around him, and Heechul got up from his place next to Hankyung to sit next to Siwon and hold his hand.

It didn't take long for Hyukjae to start crying, either, and Donghae would have held him if he wasn't standing next to Yesung as the ring bearer, so Kibum, looking thoroughly like he didn't want to do it at all, wrapped his arm around Hyukjae's shoulders, and allowed him to weep all over his new suit.

Leeteuk was crying on and off throughout the whole ceremony, sitting next to Kangin and holding his hand tightly, and when Donghae finally handed the rings over with a proud I-didn't-lose-them smile, he started wailing, and Kangin had to clap his hand over his mouth.

Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi sang, their voices soaring beautifully, weaving with the strains of Henry's violin and the notes of Sungmin's piano, and when Ryeowook sneaked a peek at them there were tears in Zhou Mi's eyes as well; Sungmin stopped for a quick second to reach up and brush them off with his thumb before resuming playing.

When Yesung finally kissed Ryeowook, the church erupted into applause, and when Ryeowook pulled away, the first thing he saw were the other members, clapping and cheering and hugging each other, Leeteuk still dabbing at his eyes but smiling.

In Yesung's and Ryeowook's books, it was a perfect wedding.

not for the world to know (drabble)

thundersquall — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 17:04:26 GMT

title: not for the world to know (drabble)
pairing: yesung/ryeowook
rating: g
word count: 200 words
summary: a short drabble i promised zenfu and oh_hesitate, based on this gif.

___

“i love you,” he says boldly and loudly, knowing that no one can hear him over the din of the crowd.

“i love you,” he says, fingers curling familiarly around your arm, fingertips pressing into your skin and the nails leaving little half-moon depressions, marks that disappear slowly unlike the others he’s made on you.

“i love you,” he says, lips brushing over your earlobe, and you shiver, leaning more into his touch.

“i love you,” he says, and for a moment you’re lost in his eyes and his smile and the way he feels against you.

“i love you, i love you, i love you,” he says, in front of the entire stadium, in front of bright blue lights that will wink out one by one if they know what you are to him and what he means to you.

you smile at him and raise the microphone to your mouth, and instead of screaming an answering “i love you” into it like you want to, you sing your lines, replying only by tracing fingers softly over the line of his hip, because some kinds of love have to be kept hidden.

ryeowook’s smile tells you that he understands.

Playing Safe

thundersquall — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 18:16:00 GMT

Title: Playing Safe
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,009
Summary: Ryeowook is one of Korea’s biggest singing stars. Jongwoon is his bodyguard. Inspired by this picture.

A/N: Birthday fic for my favourite magnae, shiryu_yugure! Happy birthday sweets, I love you! Happy early birthday too to specialrainbow, the two of you are people who are very, very special to me. I hope you both like this. ♥

___

It takes Jongwoon four rounds of interviews, two physical examinations, a battery of psychological tests, and three months before he’s approved as Kim Ryeowook’s personal bodyguard.

It takes him only one meeting to decide that he doesn’t like his new boss. When Youngwoon, the bodyguard he’s replacing, takes him to Ryeowook’s spacious, luxuriously-appointed apartment to introduce them, all he gets from his employer is a cold, appraising flick of the eyes from top to toe, before he says, “He’s so much smaller than you, Youngwoon. Are you sure he’s up to the job?”

Jongwoon bristles at that, but stays silent when Youngwoon shoots him a look. He’s served four years in the military, spent most of his early career in the police force, and spent the last two years as a bodyguard for the CEO of the largest construction company in Seoul, one of the wealthiest men in Asia. After him, anyone would be a piece of cake, including the spoilt singing star in front of him whom Jongwoon already suspects may be more trouble than the bountiful salary he’ll be getting. He’s young, barely more than a boy really, and tiny, and Jongwoon can only imagine the problems he’ll have herding him through a crowd of fangirls.

Not for the first time, he regrets leaving his previous boss; it wasn’t something he’d wanted, he’d enjoyed his work and all the first-class perks it brought him, but in retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t have slept with his boss’s mistress. There was only one place for Jongwoon to go after the woman had an attack of the guilts and went crying to his boss, and that was an unceremonious exit out the door. It was fortunate that he’d remembered his old high school friend, Youngwoon, was in the same line of work, and had given him a call on the off-chance that there might be a vacancy where he was. As luck would have it, Youngwoon was leaving Ryeowook’s employ and was looking for someone to take over his position; it was only a matter of passing the various tests Ryeowook’s agency had set after that.

He listens to Youngwoon tell Ryeowook all that, extolling his virtues (perhaps exaggerating them, and fortunately skipping the part about him being fired for sleeping with his boss’s woman), but Ryeowook’s only response is, “I need to get back to my work. Get me my sweater, Youngwoon, I’m cold. And –" a pause "– you, Jongwoon, is that it? Bring me a glass of apple juice. Youngwoon will tell you what to do.” And he walks off into the little soundproof room built into his apartment where, as Youngwoon says, he writes all his songs, hips swaying gracefully with a fluidity born of hours of dance practice.

Youngwoon scratches his head sheepishly, turning to look at Jongwoon. “Well, there you go,” he says.

“Wow,” Jongwoon says, staring at the door. “Is he always like this?”

“He has his cute moments, I guess,” Youngwoon answers. “He’s not that bad once you get used to him.”

Jongwoon nods grimly.

___

“He’s… demanding,” Youngwoon tells him one night over cups of coffee and plumes of cigarette smoke, after they’ve pored over Ryeowook’s schedule for the next day. He’s due to appear at an open-air charity concert, and as Youngwoon says, those are nightmares to navigate, having to steer him through screaming, frenzied, maddened crowds and get him safely to his car. It’s Jongwoon’s first full day tomorrow, as it’s Youngwoon’s final day today; he’s staying long enough to take Jongwoon through the last details and have a quick chat with him before taking what’s left of his stuff in Ryeowook’s apartment and leaving.

Jongwoon had thought it odd when Youngwoon had first told him that he would have his own bedroom in Ryeowook’s apartment, every other room fitted with a buzzer that connects to it in case Ryeowook needs him. The only problem is, as far as he can see, Ryeowook seems to need his bodyguards more for pointless errands than for security reasons.

“I can already tell,” Jongwoon replies dryly. “Are we bodyguards or are we servants? You know, he should just get a full-time servant, rather than just a cleaner who comes in 3 times a week.”

Youngwoon shrugs. “Ryeowook likes his privacy.”

“And having his bodyguard live with him is private?”

Youngwoon grins. “I’ve kind of lost count of the number of times I’ve had to stop fangirls from trying to break in. I don’t know how they even get into the building, with all the security guards and locks, but quite often we come back and there’ll be a couple of them hanging outside the door, screaming for Ryeowook-oppa and trying to grab his clothes and underwear and shoes. He needs a bodyguard with him at all hours, or his tiny defenceless little self will get swallowed like a baby seal in a pool of sharks.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Jongwoon snorts.

“Well, I’ve worked for Ryeowook long enough that I sort of treat him like my little brother, you know? He seems cold at first, but he gets better as he gets used to you. And like I said, he’s cute sometimes. I’ve grown quite fond of him.”

Cute? Jongwoon shakes his head. It’s been only a week and Ryeowook hasn’t shown the slightest iota of the cuteness that he’s so famed for on stage. And as for treating him like a little brother? Jongwoon has a younger brother at home, and while he’s always found Jongjin to be an irritant while they were growing up, he’s practically an angel compared to this spoilt and cosseted singer who has an entire country at his feet. Jongwoon makes up his mind to call Jongjin more often and treat him better, maybe take him out for a meal on one of his rare off days –

The buzzer rings insistently, breaking into his thoughts, and both men look up.

“God, it’s 1 a.m.,” Jongwoon groans. “What does he want now?”

“He’s still composing, and he’s probably hungry,” Youngwoon says, standing up. He grabs his duffel bag from the floor and swings it over his shoulder, stubbing his cigarette out and clapping a meaty hand on Jongwoon’s shoulder. “You know what to do by now.”

“Yeah. One blueberry muffin, warmed, and a glass of milk, cold.”

Youngwoon laughs as he opens the door and both of them walk out together, Jongwoon heading towards the kitchen, him going to the front door. “Take care of him.”

“I should have been a waiter instead, that’s all I’m doing for him, serving him food,” Jongwoon grumbles, and Youngwoon leaves with a parting laugh and a final shout of “You haven’t seen what those scary fangirls can do yet!”

___

Over the next few weeks, Jongwoon learns that the nickname Ryeowook’s fans have given him is “doll”, because he looks so much like one with his fair skin and pretty eyes and perfect lips and slender, delicate body.

Jongwoon’s nickname for him is “nightmare”.

Ryeowook isn’t a bad person to work for, per se. He certainly doesn’t ill-treat Jongwoon, and most of the time he’s closeted in his little home studio composing anyway. It’s the incessant demands for his attention that annoy Jongwoon; he can’t even read a book in peace in his bedroom before Ryeowook’s buzzing for him for something stupid or other. Jongwoon decides that Ryeowook must have been born with his hands on a piano, because while there’s no denying that he’s talented, he also seems incapable of using them for anything else, like picking up a piece of paper that’s flown to the floor behind him. No, he has to buzz Jongwoon for that, and then demand that he sits in and ‘keeps him company’. Jongwoon does it, because he has no choice, but it isn’t even really company, because Ryeowook hardly talks to him anyway, unless it’s to ask him to do something.

One time, Jongwoon decides to tell him straight, after Ryeowook’s buzzed him into the studio, just to tell him he’s cold, and could he please pass him his sweater? And when Jongwoon looks, the sweater is flung over the couch right behind him, and he picks it up and hands it to Ryeowook, while saying with as much politeness as he can muster, “You know, this was just behind you.”

“Uh huh,” Ryeowook replies distractedly, slipping the garment over his head. His hair falls into his eyes with the movements and he shakes it out of his face, bending back over his music sheets. “So?”

“So you could have just turned around to get it, instead of asking me to come all the way here from my room.”

The soft scratching of pencil on paper stops; Ryeowook looks up slowly at him, and Jongwoon steels himself for a diva-esque explosion. He starts mentally counting the amount of money he has left over from his last paycheque, and calculating how long he can stretch it out until he finds another job, because he’s going to be fired, he’s sure of it, Ryeowook’s going to throw him out and –

But instead of screaming or shouting or throwing things, Ryeowook simply looks at him with hurt eyes and his bottom lip trembling, and says in a small voice, “But I’m composing. I can’t stop when I’m composing, or I’ll lose it, lose the momentum. Jongwoon, are you saying that I treat you badly?”

Jongwoon’s at a loss for words, especially since Ryeowook’s lip is wobbling dangerously and his eyes are starting to fill, and quickly he waves his hands and shakes his head. “No! No, that’s not what I meant at all. I – I understand.”

“Do you? Really?” Ryeowook asks, blinking wide eyes at him, and he can only nod as Ryeowook flashes him a contented smile and goes back to his music.

He ends up staying all night in the studio, nodding off on the couch and jumping whenever he hears Ryeowook so much as shift or rustle papers.

It’s amazing, he thinks wryly to himself, what “the doll” can do once he chooses to turn on those “cute moments” Youngwoon mentioned. But Jongwoon never ever complains about Ryeowook’s requests again. If anyone knew that he made Ryeowook cry, he’d probably be ripped limb from limb.

___

Ryeowook does get better as the weeks melt into months. He’s less cold and he talks more, and as Jongwoon gets more used to his habits and his likes and dislikes, and learns to anticipate them, Ryeowook’s requests become less bothersome. And in fact, he can be cute, especially when he smiles; Jongwoon finds himself enchanted by his smile, because it’s bright and infectious and lights up his entire face from his eyes to his cheeks to his lips, and it always makes him feel like smiling right back, no matter how demanding or irritating Ryeowook was just a second ago.

Not that he completely adores having to pick up after him, of course, but it’s easier on him when he presents Ryeowook with his customary midnight snacks and makes sure he’s kept warm when working –Ryeowook’s too thin to do well in cold weather, Jongwoon thinks – before he has a chance to sound that irritating buzzer.

What doesn’t get better, though, are the fangirls.

Youngwoon wasn’t kidding about them, Jongwoon thinks desperately for the umpteenth time as he ushers Ryeowook through the horde at the Beijing airport, where they’ve just arrived for Ryeowook’s first concert there. It’s bad enough in Korea, where fans squeal and scream and split his eardrums at the merest glimpse of Ryeowook, but at least there are barricades to hold them at bay most of the time, and if they happen to be in the streets, most of them are too shy to do more than gape or squeal or ask for a quick picture and autograph.

But things are different in China. There are no barricades, for one, and the girls are bolder and closing in, hemmming them in, and Jongwoon can’t move. And for another, it’s all unfamiliar, the directions, the language, and when Jongwoon raises his voice, telling them to move back, to clear some space, they don’t understand or pretend not to understand what his tone of voice and his angry face and his arms held out in front of him in warding gestures should tell them clearly.

Ryeowook’s close behind him, but they’re caught in the crowd and can’t move, but over the heads of the screaming girls Jongwoon sees, to his relief, the airport security guards wading in, trying to clear a path for them.

“Ryeowook, stay close to me,” he says, reaching behind him but grasping only empty air instead. “Ryeowook?”

He turns, and there he is, almost swallowed up by the crowd of screaming fans, hands grabbing at him as he’s pulled backwards, his arms flying up to shield his face.

“Jongwoon!” Ryeowook manages to cry out, and Jongwoon dives forward, shoving bodies ruthlessly out of the way, not caring that girls are tripping or falling as he barrels into them and wraps his arms around Ryeowook’s body, pulling him away from the maddened girls tugging at his clothes and bag. Hands are still coming at him, pressing into his back, his sides, his arms, but he pulls Ryeowook flush against his chest, holding him protectively, feeling him tremble with shock and fear.

“Get lost,” he snarls, glaring with fiery eyes at the girls around him; he’s through being polite when they decided to endanger Ryeowook. “Get the fuck away from him.”

And finally, finally, they retreat, pushed back by a combination of Jongwoon’s anger and the airport guards chivvying them away, and Jongwoon puts a careful arm around Ryeowook's shoulders and guides him out of the airport.

In the car, on the way to the hotel, Ryeowook curls up with his legs tucked under him on the seat, and Jongwoon continues to hold him because he’s still shaking, holds him close and rubs his hand up and down his arm reassuringly until he falls asleep, small and soft and vulnerable against him.

___

That very night, when they’re back at the hotel after his concert, there are reports in the papers that Kim Ryeowook’s bodyguard ‘swore’ at fans, complete with pictures of Jongwoon pushing at girls, but Jongwoon only laughs at the articles, and Ryeowook skims them with a derisive snort before turning bright smiling eyes on Jongwoon.

“Thank you,” he says softly, crumpling up the papers and tossing them carelessly aside; Jongwoon bends to pick them up, out of habit, and Ryeowook stops him with a hand on his cheek.

“I’m glad you were there,” he says, and Jongwoon’s seized by a sudden desire to turn and nuzzle into Ryeowook’s palm, except that of course he won’t because Ryeowook’s his boss – his male boss, at that.

So he straightens up – Ryeowook’s hand drops from his face – and runs his hand through his hair self-consciously. “Uh. It’s, well, it’s my job, isn’t it?”

Ryeowook’s stopped smiling, and in the back of his mind Jongwoon thinks that he’s done something wrong. But all he does is sigh, a small, soft one, before he looks away from Jongwoon and slides under the covers on the huge hotel bed.

“I’m very tired,” he whispers, his voice muffled by the bedclothes. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Yes, of course,” Jongwoon says, snapping to attention. “Good night, Ryeowook.”

He tucks the sheets tighter around Ryeowook’s body and switches off the bedside lamp before making his way to the door and letting himself out. The last thing he sees before he closes the door are Ryeowook’s eyes, big and bright and staring at him, and the outline of his body under the sheets, looking even smaller in the vastness of the king-sized bed.

___

They’re back in Korea, and Ryeowook’s starting to plan for his third album. That means things are easier on Jongwoon, as he has far less public engagements to attend. Ryeowook spends most of his time in his apartment, holed up in his music room into the wee hours of the morning, feverishly composing and singing, sometimes until he falls asleep at the piano.

The first time Jongwoon finds him like that, slumped over the low desk where he writes his music, he takes the blanket from Ryeowook’s bedroom and wraps it around him, noting grimly how pronounced his eye bags are and wondering how long Ryeowook’s going to keep losing sleep.

The second time he finds Ryeowook asleep in the room, face pressed against the keys of his piano and his hands still limp on the keyboard, he picks him up and carries him carefully into his bedroom before arranging him on his bed, feeling how light and small Ryeowook is in his arms and thinking that really, Ryeowook needs to eat more, delicate bones pushing up underneath his skin so that Jongwoon can feel every jut and ridge.

The third time, Ryeowook isn’t the one who falls asleep. It’s Jongwoon who drifts off first, wedged comfortably in the couch reading as he keeps a watchful eye on Ryeowook on the piano and gets him whatever he needs. He stares as Ryeowook plays a few bars and frowns prettily, teeth worrying at his pencil before he rubs out notes and scribbles some more, then tries playing the bars out again.

He falls asleep, lulled by a combination of slow melodies and the peaceful sight of Ryeowook at work, but before long he’s woken up by a warm weight on top of him and forces his bleary eyes open to see Ryeowook climbing on top of him, burrowing into his chest.

“Ryeowook?” he asks hoarsely, struggling to sit up. “Sorry, I just – god, what time is it? Do you need something? Are you hungry?”

“No,” Ryeowook says, small hands on his shoulders and pushing him back down into the couch. “No, I don’t want anything. I just want to close my eyes and rest for a while.”

“I’ll take you to your room – “

“No,” Ryeowook says again, this time more firmly. “I’m fine here. And I have to go back to my music soon anyway. Just let me rest for a moment.”

“I’ll let you have the couch then,” Jongwoon says, trying to sit up again, but Ryeowook pushes him once more, a frown on his face, which, close up, is gray from exhaustion.

“I want to be here. With you.” It isn’t a request, and Jongwoon tenses up as Ryeowook nuzzles into his neck, hands on his chest and thighs gripping his hips and backside settled on his abdomen. “I just need a few minutes… to shut… and I will…”

He’s asleep before he gets all his words out, warm breath tickling Jongwoon’s neck and his lips just slightly pressed into his skin and his hair tickling Jongwoon’s nose. And before Jongwoon knows it, he’s curled his arms around Ryeowook, one hand stroking his hair and the fingers of the other tracing the bumps of his spine under his t-shirt.

He falls asleep like that, wrapped up warm and snug in Ryeowook.

___

Jongwoon doesn’t quite know what to do at first when Ryeowook kisses him one night after he’s started recording for his new album. From spending hours in his home studio, he moves to spending hours in the company’s recording studio, singing until his voice cracks and grows hoarse, and Jongwoon plies him with tumblers of warm honey that he prepares fresh every morning and carries along with him in thermos flasks.

It’s on one of these nights when they’re in the car and on the way home, Ryeowook silent and grim because he’d spent all day trying to get this one song right and his voice had completely given way, the high notes refusing to leave his exhausted throat without cracking. Jongwoon keeps quiet, not wanting to antagonize Ryeowook when he’s upset enough, but then Ryeowook begins to cry, not making any noise but for little gasping breaths, his chest heaving silently and his shoulders shaking and fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Ryeowook?” Jongwoon asks anxiously, cupping his chin and tilting his head up to look at him. “What’s wrong, don’t cry, it’ll make your voice worse – we’ll just go back and rest for a couple of days and it’ll be okay again – “

Ryeowook reaches up and kisses him then, hard and insistent and born out of a need to feel a comforting warm body on his, and Jongwoon’s too shocked to kiss back or pull back, even as Ryeowook’s hands tighten into fists in his shirt. It’s only when Ryeowook coaxes his lips apart with his tongue that Jongwoon responds, hesitantly at first, then bolder as Ryeowook’s tears dry up and his breathing becomes more erratic, but not because he’s crying.

Ryeowook tastes like the honey Jongwoon makes for him.

___

They don’t speak of the kiss for the longest time. Neither do they mention the late-night cuddles on the couch, or the times when Ryeowook enters Jongwoon’s bedroom and slides under the sheets next to him, back pressed to front, or even the couple of times Jongwoon slips guiltily into Ryeowook’s luxurious bedroom and stands, fidgeting, staring down at him, until Ryeowook raises himself on one elbow with a tired but welcoming smile and pulls him into his bed, curling himself up like a lazy cat into Jongwoon’s side.

Jongwoon’s slept with many women before this, but never with a man. Not like this, at least, holding someone close and feeling his heartbeat against his chest and tracing fingers over his knuckles or cheekbones or shoulder blades while he sleeps, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. He guesses, as he brushes soft, barely-there kisses across Ryeowook’s forehead, that he’s never been in love before this either. Not before Ryeowook.

___

That’s not something they speak of either, love. Not when Ryeowook’s a star who has girls throwing themselves at his feet, and when Jongwoon’s just his bodyguard.

But when Ryeowook finally releases his album and it’s back to the everyday frenzy of performances, schedules, and mad rushes from one place to another, it’s Jongwoon whom Ryeowook looks for in the midst of surging crowds, locking hands as Jongwoon leads him to his waiting car. It’s Jongwoon whose arms Ryeowook collapses into at the end of an exhausting day, and it’s Jongwoon who Ryeowook runs to when his manager tells him that his album’s gone platinum, laughing and clapping his hands before jumping on him, making him stagger backwards, and kissing him breathless.

It’s Jongwoon that Ryeowook celebrates with after winning an award for his album, downing soju over grilled meat at a restaurant, and later when they’re back home Ryeowook breaks out a bottle of wine he’s kept for special occasions.

There’s something different about it when Ryeowook pushes him into the bed and climbs on top of him and kisses him again, and it’s not the alcohol. It’s just the way Ryeowook feels against him, tiny and pliant and sweet, and the way Ryeowook’s bare skin feels under his fingers and mouth as the alcohol gives Jongwoon enough courage to push his shirt up and out of the way, and the way Ryeowook gasps his name, over and over, whimpers I love you-s into his neck that he can’t help but reply to as he presses into him, soft and slow and gentle.

It’s all very surreal to Jongwoon, and he falls asleep after with Ryeowook pulled close to him, thinking hazily that it’s all a very nice dream. When he wakes up the next day with the sun shining in through the curtains and Ryeowook still ensconced in his arms, breathing deeply and contentedly, Jongwoon realizes, with a rush of relief, that it doesn’t matter that Ryeowook’s a star, or that he’s just a bodyguard, because Ryeowook loves him, and that’s all that matters.

It's Just A Little Crush

thundersquall — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 04:00:54 GMT

Title: It's Just A Little Crush
Pairing: Ryeowook/Nicole (KARA)
Rating: G
Word count: 992
Summary: Ryeowook has a crush. Nicole misunderstands. Kibum sees all. Short little pointless fluffy ficlet.

A/N: So I've been wanting to write Ryeowook/Nicole for a while since seeing this, and this is the result. For hoyah and shiryu_yugure.

___

She's small and slender, with sparkling eyes that crinkle into crescents when she smiles, porcelain skin and animated gestures that spill over into excited giggles when she speaks too fast and trips over her words. Her voice sounds like bubbles to Ryeowook, a series of quick melodic tones that he finds himself entranced by. Her name is Nicole, she's in Ryeowook's social psychology class, and she's the girl Ryeowook's been secretly staring at for a month's worth of lectures and has never had the courage to approach.

So he just spends hours staring at the back of her head as she takes notes or leans over to whisper to her friends, her forehead creased in concentration, and when his lectures end, he finds that all he's done is doodle meaningless scribbles all over his notepad.

Ryeowook knows that he might fail the class this semester, but Nicole is the biggest distraction he's ever seen, even if she doesn't know he exists.

___

Ryeowook thanks all his lucky stars and the powers-that-be when their professor decides to assign them projects and divide them into groups, and he's put into the same group as Nicole and another boy, Kibum.

Their first discussion meeting is a disaster; Ryeowook is so nervous that he spills coffee all over his notes and Nicole's, and only Kibum was quick enough to sweep his file off the table before it's swimming in coffee as well.

Kibum rolls his eyes and strides off to get his own (much more comprehensive, it must be said) notes photocopied for both of them, and they sit in awkward silence until Kibum returns.

Ryeowook finds it much, much easier to talk to Nicole and laugh with her when someone else is around.

___

The good thing is, they get more comfortable with each other as the semester goes on.

The bad thing is, Ryeowook thinks that Nicole might have a crush on Kibum.

He notices the way she looks at him, with her head tilted to one side and her eyes appraising and quizzical. She's always trying to get Kibum to sit between her and Ryeowook, and Kibum, always silent and obliging, does as she asks without much complaint. And whenever Kibum's not around, she's always talking to Ryeowook about him. "Don't you think Kibum's good-looking, Ryeowook? Isn't he gorgeous? What do you think about him? He has such a nice smile, doesn't he?"

Sure, Kibum has a nice smile, but no, Ryeowook does not find him gorgeous, or attractive, and in fact he seems to become uglier as the days go by, or so Ryeowook's jealous mind tells him.

___

It comes to a head one day when Kibum's left them alone to go to the washroom, and Nicole's prodding him about Kibum again, and he slams his pen on the table and shouts, "No, Kibum is ugly, and I can't stand him, and I don't see what's so good-looking about him!"

There's a long silence, during which Ryeowook contemplates stabbing himself with his pen. Then Nicole says, "Wait. You mean... you're not interested in Kibum?"

Ryeowook's mouth falls open. "Why would I be?"

"I thought you were gay - "

"Excuse me?"

Nicole wrings her hands, looking pleadingly up at him, and whenever Nicole looks at him like that Ryeowook just can't stay angry at her. He flops back down onto the bench with a sigh.

"Why would you think even I was gay?"

She flaps her hands at him, a gesture that Ryeowook has always found ridiculously adorable and endearing. "I don't know, I'm sorry! You just - you never seemed interested in girls - you don't look at them - you don't even talk to me much unless Kibum is around - and you cook and sew and god, Ryeowook, you cook better than I do - and you're neat and clean and don't even like any of those boy things that boys do - and I thought - "

Ryeowook shuts her up by grabbing her hands and forcing them on top of the table. "I cook and sew because I live alone and had to learn to do a lot for myself," he says slowly. "And I am interested in girls; one particular girl, actually, and that's why I don't look at other girls, because I'm only looking at her. I don't talk to her much, only because I get stupidly tongue-tied whenever she's near me. But she's never been interested in me, I think."

There's another long, interminable pause as Ryeowook keeps his hands on Nicole's and keeps his eyes on hers, his heart pounding a million beats per minute, and then she blinks at him, and says, "Oh. Oh. Oh."

Ryeowook doesn't know what that means - is that a rejection? Why is she not pulling away from him? Why is she smiling at him? Why is she curling her fingers around his and looking as beet-red as he probably feels and -

"Oh," Ryeowook says aloud, echoing Nicole. "Oh."

They don't take their hands away.

("About time," Kibum says sardonically when he returns and they're still holding hands, both flushing pink and biting their lips and the air seeming a lot thicker than it normally is. "I thought you both would never catch on, why are you so slow?"

They do pull back from each other at that, and Ryeowook doesn't try to take her hand again, not even under the table, but that's okay - he has the rest of the semester, the year, maybe years to do it.)

The Same Kind Of Love

thundersquall — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 10:31:57 GMT

Title: The Same Kind Of Love
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook, Ryeowook/Jungmo (The TRAX)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 413
Summary: They may love in different ways, but to Ryeowook, it's all the same thing.

A/N: Drabble inspired by this video where Jungmo and Ryeowook were being cute and clingy.

___

It's two different kinds of love.

Jungmo is like the sun to Ryeowook. He's warm and protective and suffocates Ryeowook in long embraces and lazy hugs. He stands next to Ryeowook and curls a long arm around his waist as he props his chin on Ryeowook's shoulder and blows softly at the strands of hair framing his face, making him giggle. Jungmo is all softness around Ryeowook, strong callused fingers that are made gentle by Ryeowook's delicacy, passing hesitantly over his skin as if he's afraid that Ryeowook will snap like a tightly-wound guitar string if he presses too hard.

Jongwoon is like a dark night to Ryeowook. He's watchful and silent and stares at him with narrowed eyes from across crowded rooms, paddng after him like a silent hunter on the prowl. He doesn't just hold Ryeowook close, he presses Ryeowook tightly enough against him that Ryeowook sometimes can't breathe as he imagines the layers of fabric between them burnt into ashes by Jongwoon's desire. His hands and lips are harsh and hard, pushing against Ryeowook's skin and carving symbols of his need and his want into Ryeowook.

Jungmo's love is easy and subtle. Soft presses of his lips against Ryeowook's cheek, a skimming of his nose across Ryeowook's shoulder, little smiles and soothing whispers of 'I love you'. Jungmo makes Ryeowook feel like he wants to curl up against him and breathe in his scent until he drifts off into a peaceful sleep, his head cradled in Jungmo's lap as Jungmo runs fingers through his hair.

Jongwoon's love is heavy and bold. Sharp teeth dragging across Ryeowook's collarbones and strong fingers holding him tight by his thin wrists, dark hooded eyes and possessive growls of 'I love you' against his neck. Jongwoon makes Ryeowook feel like he wants to lock them both together, pull Jongwoon in closer, rocking and thrashing until he falls asleep from sheer exhaustion.

When Jungmo tells Ryeowook "I love you", he ducks his head shyly and blushes and whispers a tiny "I love you" in return before pressing his forehead into Jungmo's shoulder, feeling Jungmo put a careful arm around his shoulders.

When Jongwoon tells Ryeowook "I love you", he replies, gasps, "I love you", over and over again, as Jongwoon snatches his hands and presses kisses to the fingertips and the insides of his wrists, his lips wet against Ryeowook's pulse point.

It's two different kinds of love.

It's the same kind of love to Ryeowook.

One Last Time

thundersquall — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 03:55:28 GMT

Title: One Last Time
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: R
Word count: 1,861
Summary: Jongwoon and Ryeowook find that even after years of obligation to their respective families, they never really grow apart, even when they should. Set in post-band!verse.

A/N: This was written really quickly, in about an hour, but it’s been weighing on my mind for a couple of weeks, ever since my oppaaarrr prompted me in a conversation we were having. So this is for her, and also for shiryu_yugure and her love for angst.

___

The day before Jongwoon gets married, he fucks Ryeowook for what they've told each other will be 'one last time', for old times' sake, in the bedroom of the little apartment that they've shared for years since Super Junior's disbandment. At that time, no one batted an eyelid when they moved in together, Jongwoon staying on at SM as a vocal coach, Ryeowook choosing to focus on songwriting, because they'd been close for so many years, and it seemed only natural to everyone else that their friendship continued even after the band was over.

But then more than eyelids were batted when, almost 8 years later, both Jongwoon and Ryeowook were still living together, and both of them showed no signs of interest in marriage, or starting families. That was the point when Jongwoon's mother started forcing him to go for matchmaking sessions with daughters of family friends, and that was when both Jongwoon and Ryeowook realised that perhaps they had gone as far as they could go, in a society where settling down to start a family is expected of virtually every male.

So Jongwoon chooses Ae-ri; or rather, his mother approves of her and she was the first halfway decent-looking girl Jongwoon had been introduced to. Ryeowook met her, once, and smiled at her all throughout dinner while the bile rose in his throat and feelings of hate and envy rose in his heart, and later that night, he had clawed marks into Jongwoon's arms and back, scratched long red trails into him so he could look at them after and think to himself, Jongwoon belongs to me, me, me.

But it's over now, he thinks as he stands at Jongwoon's side as his best man, the day after Jongwoon had left his wife alone to come to him and hold him and make love to him for ‘one last time’, and watches Ae-ri, beautiful and radiant and glowing in her gown, walk down the aisle towards Jongwoon. And after they exchange vows, Jongwoon turns to look at Ryeowook with tears glistening in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, and Ae-ri cries as well, because she thinks his tears are for her, and the congregation claps and cheers, because they think his tears are for her, but Ryeowook doesn't cry, doesn't cheer, because he knows Jongwoon's tears are for him, and it's more than enough that one of them have to cry.

After the ceremony is over and the happy couple drive off to their new home, Ryeowook returns alone to his (their) apartment. He sits on his (their) bed, and looks around at the suddenly empty room, Jongwoon's stuff all moved out a week ago to the house he's living in with Ae-ri now, and picks up the pillow Jongwoon used to sleep on, before pressing his nose into it and breathing in his scent.

The pillow's damp against his cheek before he realises he's been crying.

___

Jongwoon comes back a week later and pins Ryeowook against the wall of the bedroom, like he used to, and fucks him again, like he used to, for 'one last time', because he misses Ryeowook so much and yes, this is wrong and he shouldn't be doing this to his new wife even though Ryeowook is the one he loves, not Ae-ri, never ever Ae-ri.

"We won't do this again," Ryeowook tells him later, curled into the crook of his arm as if nothing had happened and no time had passed, and Jongwoon agrees.

"We can't, I'm a married man now," he says heavily, and Ryeowook watches as he gets up, dresses, and leaves.

Jongwoon comes back every week, for 'one last time'. Each time, Jongwoon tells Ryeowook he loves him. Each time, they tell each other they can't do this anymore. Each time, Ryeowook feels his heart break just a little bit more, but he never turns Jongwoon away.

___

Ryeowook stays over at Jongwoon and Ae-ri's home for a few weeks every couple of months because Ae-ri invites him to do so.

"I know it's hard to live alone, Ryeowook-sshi," she says, her large eyes glowing at him, and Ryeowook clenches his fists under the table, because try as he might he cannot hate this woman, a woman who has been nothing but kind to him and loving to Jongwoon. "I know how close Jongwoon-oppa and you are, so there's nothing wrong if you ever come by. Please do so more often; oppa always seems happier when you're around."

Ryeowook nods and thanks her, and Ae-ri smiles at him and gets up to make him lunch. Not for the first time, Ryeowook feels guilt wrap around his heart and squeeze it, because Jongwoon comes into the guest bedroom where he sleeps almost every night, and each time they always agree that it should be for 'one last time', when it never is.

___

Ae-ri introduces Minhee, her good friend, to Ryeowook, and it occurs to Ryeowook that the best way to break his dependence on Jongwoon would be to get married.

When he announces his engagement to Minhee, over a couples' dinner with Jongwoon and Ae-ri, Ae-ri shrieks with joy and hugs Minhee and him, before both women launch into loud and excited plans for the wedding.

Neither of them notices their husband and fiancé sitting staring at each other, completely unenthusiastic and unresponsive.

___

Jongwoon is Ryeowook's best man at his wedding, as everyone knew he would be. No one knows, however, when Jongwoon barges into the room where Ryeowook is changing into his suit and presses him against the dresser in his wedding suit, for 'one last time'.

When it's over, Ryeowook pushes Jongwoon off him, and says as coldly as he can, "This has to be the last time, Jongwoon. We're both married men now."

Jongwoon stares at him, and nods slowly. "It will be the last time." His hands reach out towards Ryeowook, and Ryeowook flinches slightly, but all he does is smooth out the wrinkles from the lapels of his jacket and adjust the crooked bow tie at his neck, sweeping away all evidence of their liaison, and Ryeowook bites his lip and tries not to grab Jongwoon, to pull him back on top of him, to hold him and never let him go.

After Ryeowook and Minhee have exchanged their rings, Ryeowook begins to cry, cries long and uncontrollably, and Jongwoon holds him in front of the whole church, his own face calm and tear-free, and Ryeowook knows how Jongwoon felt then, when he had married Ae-ri. He learns that the one leaving feels just as bad as the one left behind, and now they've gone through both.

___

It's harder for them now, because Ryeowook shares a house with Minhee, and Jongwoon has one with Ae-ri, and even though both couples meet a lot there is never any privacy. It's Ryeowook who hits upon the idea of using motels, and as if drawn like moths to a flame, they meet once a week, beanies pulled low over their heads and dressed in baggy hoodies, always a different motel in a different area, so that no one spots them and no one gets suspicious.

"This has to be the last time, Ryeowook," Jongwoon says one time, putting an arm over his eyes. "We can't keep doing this."

Ryeowook's about to open his mouth and reply, and then Jongwoon adds, "Especially not now, when Ae-ri is pregnant."

Ryeowook's mind reels in shock. Pregnant? Ae-ri is pregnant?

Jongwoon sits up then and looks at Ryeowook, and for the first time Ryeowook notices how there are lines around the corners of Jongwoon's eyes that never used to be there, and how there are strands of grey in his black hair, and he realises, with a start, how many years have passed, how long they've known each other, how long they've loved each other.

"I'm sorry," Jongwoon says, and there are tears in his eyes, and it makes Ryeowook think again - how many tears have they shed for each other, all these years they've been together and then not-together? "I love you. I'll always love you."

Ryeowook contemplates telling Jongwoon he loves him back - because he really really does, so much, that sometimes there's a physical pain in his heart when he thinks of him, or when he rolls over sleepily in the middle of the night to fumble for him but finds Minhee instead, or when he watches Ae-ri spoon-feeding him and remembers how he used to do it for Jongwoon, even way back when they were still in the band - but what comes out of his mouth is, "I really, really hate this motel. It's seedy and dirty and disgusting, and I don’t ever want to come back here."

He gets up and goes into the bathroom, and when he comes out Jongwoon is gone.

He stares at the empty bed for a moment, at the depression of Jongwoon's body that's still there, and passes his hand over it, feeling the warmth of Jongwoon that hasn't dissipated. And abruptly his knees give way and he slides to the floor, the rough carpet scratching at his bare legs, and cries, harsh, hoarse, racking sobs that shake his entire body.

He cries until the tears don't come anymore, and all that's left is his own shivering body and his broken heart. That's when he picks himself up and goes home to his wife.

___

Ryeowook goes to Jongwoon just two months after, because he can't hold back, and Jongwoon falls upon him like an addict, shaking and almost feverish in his desire, hands and mouth and tongue finding all the familiar spots on Ryeowook's body.

Then he informs Jongwoon that this is absolutely the last time, because Minhee is pregnant as well, and they both need to do their duties as husbands and fathers.

Jongwoon agrees, the shock in his eyes searing itself into Ryeowook's mind.

___

It's always 'one last time' after that, whenever Jongwoon and Ryeowook find the opportunity, and they always do, even as their wives' bellies get larger, even as Jongwoon's daughter is born first and then Ryeowook's, even as another two children follow for Jongwoon and one more for Ryeowook, even as the two families mingle and remain as close as siblings and their wives never realise that they love each other more than they love them.

___

Somewhere along the line, Ryeowook realised that 'one last time' would never mean one last time, but for the sake of their families, that's what they tell each other. It assuages some of the guilt they feel when Jongwoon runs fingers along Ryeowook's thigh under the table at a restaurant, or when they're watching each other and not their children, or when they're in a dingy motel bed, panting and rocking into each other, and Ryeowook's gasping at Jongwoon not to leave marks.

It doesn't matter how many years have passed. For Jongwoon and Ryeowook, there are no 'last times'. Not even for their parents, or their wives, or their children.

I can has yoga!porn. Even if it's shitty yoga!porn.

thundersquall — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 07:07:14 GMT

hoyah: 100107 Ryeowook working hard for 4jib
EH: Recently our Ryeowook is in the dorm learning some form of yoga. Now he really wants to dance properly, & also build up his body, also for the 4jib, he’s working really hard to build up.
ET: Hmmm 4jib…
thundersquall: OMFG
OMFG
RYEOWOOK DOING YOGA
WHY IS NO ONE WRITING YOGA!PORN FOR THIS

... And so this was born. Not crossposted, because it quite frankly sucks, and it's just meant to satisfy my own need for YeWook porn. FML, WHY DOESN'T ANYONE WRITE ME YOGA!PORN?! Imagine the possibilities, guys, Yesung sitting on his bed watching openmouthed as Ryeowook contorts his tiny flexible little body into all sorts of sexual-looking positions. I almost feel sorry for the poor tortured man. D:

___

When Ryeowook announces to the group that he's picking up yoga to help with his flexibility and improve his dancing, in preparation for their 4th album, Yesung doesn't think much of it at first. He's used to Ryeowook trying hard, working hard, and ever since his Insomnia solo, Ryeowook's been talking his ear off about how he wants to work on his dancing.

He only realises that he doesn't exactly know that much about yoga when he comes back to the dorm after lunch at his parents' restaurant one day, to find Ryeowook in their bedroom, on a yoga mat, body contorted into a backbend that looks incredibly painful to Yesung. He's about to call out to Ryeowook, to hurry over and pull him out of that odd position, when Ryeowook unfolds himself gracefully and stands on tiptoe before bending over, palms flat on the ground. His jogging bottoms pull taut against his legs and ass, and as Yesung watches Ryeowook spreads his legs, and it's enough to make Yesung forget about the possible pain it may be causing Ryeowook.

He walks up to Ryeowook quietly, unbuckling his belt as he goes, watching as Ryeowook stands up straight again. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is damp with sweat, but other than slightly heavier breathing, he doesn't seem to be under any exertion at all, and as he turns Yesung reaches out and pulls at him, fingers already dipping into the elastic waistband of his jogging pants. Ryeowook's eyes snap wide open, his hand grabbing Yesung's and flinging it away before he steps back, looking wildly up at him. "Hyung!" he says, frowning. "You gave me such a shock - when did you get back?"

"Just did," Yesung says, and his voice comes out slightly gritty. Ryeowook stares at him, before his eyes drop to Yesung's pants, belt hanging loose in the loops, and when he drags his eyes up to his face again there's a knowing smile playing about his lips.

"I'm practicing my yoga," he says coolly, settling himself back down on the mat.

"I can see that," Yesung replies, watching as Ryeowook spreads his legs out, toes pointing straight up before he bends over and holds his palms against the soles of his feet, stretching with seemingly no effort at all.

"When did you get so flexible?" Yesung asks, slowly divesting himself of his jeans, then pulling his shirt over his head; Ryeowook acts like he doesn’t notice Yesung stripping in front of him.

“Always have been,” he says, lifting his body back up and tipping his head upwards to finally look at Yesung. “I’ve always been flexible, hyung.”

“Yeah, I think you have,” Yesung says hoarsely, memories flooding his mind; memories of himself folding Ryeowook almost in two as he’s fucking him, of Ryeowook bending at near impossible angles in tight cramped spaces, Ryeowook hooking his legs around his neck as Yesung kisses the insides of his thighs and fucks him slowly into their bed. “Yeah, you’ve always been good at this.”

Ryeowook flips around so he’s in a kneeling position, looking up at Yesung through long lashes. “I’m practicing so I can be better,” he says. “Do you want to see?”

“That’s like asking a hungry man if he wants to eat,” Yesung jokes, and Ryeowook laughs, slender fingers at Yesung’s boxers and sliding them down.

___

“So… what else can you do?” Yesung asks breathlessly, as he’s pressing slowly into Ryeowook, Ryeowook’s skin slick and wet and little whimpers pouring from his throat while Yesung licks a trail along his spine. Ryeowook’s arms are trembling from the effort of holding himself up against the mat and his eyes are squeezed shut, but they fly open when Yesung wraps an arm around him and hauls him up, pulling him flush against his chest, and Ryeowook bites down into the back of his hand to stifle a long moan at the feel of Yesung forcing him down onto his cock, pushing deep into him.

“Stop,” Ryeowook says, wriggling away from him. “Stop, stop.”

“What are you doing?” Yesung asks, but Ryeowook ignores him, arranging himself so he’s lying down on the mat, Yesung settled between his legs.

Only then does he look up at Yesung and say, “Didn’t you want me to show you what else I can do?”

Yesung grins and bends over him, hands on either side of his head as he lowers himself to kiss Ryeowook, and as he slides slickly back into him Ryeowook swings his legs up and holds on to his ankles, opening himself wider for Yesung.

“Fuck,” Yesung gasps out, tucking his head into the crook of Ryeowook’s neck as he feels Ryeowook swallowing him up, tight and rough and hot as fire, clenching around him and taking him deeper and deeper. “Fuck, okay, that’s good, Ryeowook, that’s very good.”

Ryeowook pulls his legs back more and lifts his hips slightly and begins rocking back and forth, pivoting his hips and fucking himself on Yesung, and Yesung fists the foam mat under his hands, counting numbers backwards in his head to distract himself and not just come right there and then. He’s not going to be able to hold back for long, not when Ryeowook feels so good, tight as a vise and clenching around him, rippling muscles that Yesung never even knew he had (is that part of his yoga practice too? his mind wonders dazedly), until in one swift movement Ryeowook locks his legs around his hips and swings them both over so that he’s straddling Yesung, looking down at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes and his tongue between his teeth.

“Ryeo- ?” Yesung begins, his voice cracking, but Ryeowook leans down, hands stroking patterns across Yesung’s chest, and presses kisses to his jawline up to his ear.

“Want to see the kind of control yoga taught me?” he whispers, and Yesung’s cock literally twitches inside Ryeowook at his words before he nods blindly. Ryeowook smiles against his cheek, lifting himself up off Yesung torturously slowly, before sinking back down at the same excruciating pace, and it’s all Yesung can do to sink his fingers into the soft skin of Ryeowook’s hips as he allows Ryeowook to fuck him as he wishes. Ryeowook’s nails are clawing into his abdomen and he’s breathing soft little moans against Yesung’s neck, growing louder as he begins moving faster, grinding down harder into Yesung, muscles in his legs taut and rigid as he wraps a hand around himself and strokes swiftly, head tossed back and cheeks dark pink.

Yesung comes first, releasing into Ryeowook with a gasp, because he just can’t hold it anymore, and as Ryeowook continues to ride him he wraps his hand over Ryeowook’s own delicate one and pumps him, strokes him hard, until he’s coming as well, crying Yesung’s name in a quick rush of words, before he slumps down on him, breathing heavily.

Yesung’s still kissing Ryeowook lazily when he pulls away and gets off him, picking up his discarded exercise clothing and wiping them both down before tossing the clothes aside and nudging at Yesung to get off the yoga mat.

“What are you up to now?” Yesung asks in amusement, getting up and reaching out to pick up his own clothes, as Ryeowook folds himself cross-legged on the mat.

Ryeowook arches an eyebrow at him. “Want to see how naked yoga looks, since you seem to like the clothed type so much?” he says, and Yesung immediately stops dressing himself, dropping his shirt to the floor.

A/N: Sobbing I am sorry for the fail. I can't even write details out explicitly anymore, it seems. *runs back to PG-13 (so far, at least) historical!AU*

The Fandom Bicycles

thundersquall — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 15:35:59 GMT

Title: The Fandom Bicycles
Pairings: Kyuhyun/everyone, Jaejoong (DBSK)/everyone, Kyuhyun/Jaejoong
Rating: R
Word count: 1,011
Summary: Kyuhyun and Jaejoong make a bet as to who can fuck more people in Kpop.

A/N: Prompted by hyungdeul in kpopficwangst 6.0. Pure crack.

___

It starts off as nothing more than a drunken dare, but Jaejoong quickly realises Kyuhyun is dead serious about this, as he is about all his games from Starcraft to Final Fantasy. He discovers this when, 5 minutes after agreeing on the dare, he spies Kyuhyun dragging Changmin into the men's room. Kyuhyun comes out half an hour later with a satisfied smirk, and walks past Jaejoong, index finger pointing up. One.

Jaejoong slams his drink down on the counter in fury. Kyuhyun has the nerve to move in on his band when he already has an unfair advantage, with 14 boys?

He looks around and sees Kyuhyun engaging Yoochun in conversation, at a dark corner of the club, and Kyuhyun's fingers are already skating lazily over Yoochun's hip as they talk. Gritting his teeth, he swings around and stomps over to the nearest Super Junior member he can see, who happens to be a drunk Kangin.

No matter. The drunker he is, the easier it is for Jaejoong.

___

Jaejoong wastes no time in hunting Kyuhyun down after he'd left Kangin sleeping in one of the private rooms and sucked Heechul off in the bathroom.

"Two," he calls out triumphantly, and Kyuhyun only smirks at him.

"Only two?" he says lazily. "Four for me, already."

Jaejoong's jaw drops. "What the fuck."

Kyuhyun ticks off his fingers as he speaks. "Changmin, down. Yoochun, down. Sungmin, down. Henry, down." He quirks an eyebrow at Jaejoong. "Learn to be fast like me, hyung."

Jaejoong is furious, but Kyuhyun only laughs at him, chucking his chin, before striding away with a loud, "By the way, I didn't wash my hand after Henry."

"Fuck you," Jaejoong screams across the dance floor.

___

Kyuhyun really is fast - much faster than Jaejoong expects. It's Day 4 of their dare, and Kyuhyun's already taken Kibum - all three Kibums, in fact, from Super Junior, SHINee, and U-Kiss - as well as Chansung, TOP, G-Dragon, and Siwon.

Jaejoong, for his part, has claimed only Junsu (he hasn't managed to contact Junsu from 2 PM yet - he makes a mental note to get to him quickly, before Kyuhyun can), Yunho, Ryeowook, and Yesung. When they meet at a cafe to compare notes and figures, he finds himself humiliated as Kyuhyun proudly scrawls a large number "11" under his name in their tally book, next to Jaejoong's own small "6".

"You're a slut, Kyuhyun," he says with more than a hint of jealousy.

"Comes in handy for games like these," Kyuhyun says flippantly. "You might want to speed up, hyung, I'm sure you're not this useless."

"I would," Jaejoong grumbles. "But I needed a break after Yesung, all right."

Kyuhyun grins. "That's why I left him for you."

"You son of a bitch, my ass was in pain for hours," Jaejoong snarls at him, and Kyuhyun laughs hard.

___

It's Day 8, and Kyuhyun has taken only Onew, Junho, and Donghae because he was struck by an unfortunate bout of flu. This gives Jaejoong time to catch up; while Kyuhyun's confined to his bed yelling obscenities at his life, his nose stuffed and voice hoarse, Jaejoong triumphantly claims 2 PM's Junsu and Taecyeon, together with Hankyung, Leeteuk, Zhou Mi, Minho, and Jonghyun. He stops at Taemin though; that's something he really can't bear to do, dare or no dare.

"13 to your 14," Jaejoong tells Kyuhyun over the phone, and is answered by a growl.

"Once I'm back on my feet, I will wipe out your 13."

"Do your fucking worst," Jaejoong says, and hangs up. He stares at his phone for a moment, contemplating if his mouth is too sore for today, and then decides, screw it, this dare is more important than his damned mouth.

He dials a number quickly, and smiles when the other person picks up. "Hey, Hyukjae, are you free now? Junsu says he wants to meet."

He turns up for his meeting with Hyukjae with no Junsu in tow, but a very big grin, and before long he's able to tell Kyuhyun that he's now on the same number as him, and that he left Hyukjae jelly-legged and unable to walk properly.

___

Day 10, the last day of their dare, sees them in Jaejoong's apartment, comparing notes. The final count is 18 to Kyuhyun and 17 to Jaejoong, and it makes Jaejoong hurl their tally book to the ground in frustration. He can't even swear to make himself feel better, because his mouth is hurting so much from all the sucking he's been doing, and the only consolation he's gaining is that Kyuhyun looks in worse shape than he does, lips swollen and bruised and walking with a noticeable duck-footed gait, grimacing with every step.

"I won this round, then," Kyuhyun said, grinning even through his discomfort, and as Jaejoong stares at him, wondering if he ought to hit him, an idea takes shape in his mind.

"No," he says. "No, I'd say it's a tie."

"How can it be a tie - oof."

Jaejoong's pushed him down on the couch and straddled him, kissing him furiously, and almost before he knows it he has Kyuhyun's legs hitched to his shoulders and Kyuhyun's moans in his ears and Kyuhyun's cock in his hand, as he fucks him roughly and quickly and hard and good, until he's coming all over himself, and Jaejoong's hand, crying his name all the way.

Kyuhyun's breathing has barely slowed when Jaejoong looks down at him and says, triumph in his voice, "18 to me now too."

Kyuhyun blinks, then laughs through his gasps for breath, dragging a hand across his sweaty forehead. "That makes it 19 for me then, hyung. You still lose."

"Aw, fuck," Jaejoong swears, and Kyuhyun rolls over, laughing, unintelligible words streaming from his mouth, until Jaejoong punches him in the arm.

"Let's do this again," he says, his mouth set. "This time, we'll go for JE. I'm not losing to you, you brat."

Kyuhyun grins wickedly at him, eyes gleaming. "Bring it on."

Those Three Little Words (Drabbles)

thundersquall — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 15:23:05 GMT

Title: Those Three Little Words (Drabbles)
Pairings: Various (Yesung/Ryeowook, Kibum/Donghae, Kyuhyun/Sungmin, Hankyung/Heechul, Kangin/Leeteuk)
Word count: 1,604 in total
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A set of drabbles based on a prompt from milkpoet , which katsudono gave to me in kpopficwangst 4.0.

A/N: Dedicated to katsudono , thank you for giving me such a beautiful prompt! I’m sorry I never managed to expand the YeWook, so instead I’m giving you a drabble set.

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

- The Quiet World, Jeffrey McDaniel –

___

Jongwoon's a naturally talkative and effervescent person. The new rule implemented by the South Korean government is harder for him than most, but he tries to adjust as well as he can. He chooses not to answer his telephone when it rings, sending texts whenever possible. He orders his food by pointing to the menu, and IMs friends instead of going out with them. He creates a little bubble of silence that he lives in, a world which is even more silent than that outside, because now he has only 167 words to use, and every single word is precious.

The only times he uses his allotted words are when he picks up the phone at night to call Ryeowook in China.

The first thing he'll say to him is the number of words he's used that day - 59, 32, 73, sometimes 0 - so that Ryeowook will know how hard he tried, how much he's saved up for him. Ryeowook never responds though, never says anything more beyond a tiny sigh, and Jongwoon knows this means he's used up all his words for the day.

But that's okay, because Jongwoon has more than enough words saved up for both of them, and so he sits there and tells Ryeowook that he loves him over and over again, counting down with each little breath that Ryeowook exhales after he's said it, until the very last three words are left. That's when Jongwoon stops talking, because he doesn't want this to end.

So they sit, sometimes for hours, listening to each other's soft breathing on the line, until Ryeowook's breathing gets slower and deeper and Jongwoon knows he's either fallen asleep, or is drifting off. That's when he whispers the final, "I love you", for the day to Ryeowook, hears his small answering sigh, and then the both of them hang up.

Jongwoon never tells Ryeowook that he wishes that for once, he can hear Ryeowook tell him "I love you" instead of him saying it to Ryeowook every night. He doesn't want to waste his words on that anyway. He'd rather use them to tell Ryeowook that he loves him.

But the day that Ryeowook returns to Korea, he bursts into their bedroom and is upon Jongwoon almost before Jongwoon has time to utter anything more than a startled gasp. He grips on to the front of Jongwoon’s shirt with hands that are still fat and clumsy from gloves that he doesn’t bother removing, and cries salty tears into Jongwoon’s chest, words muffled by his sobs and sobs muffled by his scarf, but Jongwoon hears what he says, a soft breathless litany of I love you that he repeats over and over until he runs out of words and does nothing more but cry.

That’s when Jongwoon realizes – Ryeowook’s been saving all his words for this day, when he’s back in his arms and he can hold Jongwoon and touch him and kiss him, and it makes up for all those lonely days he told Ryeowook he loves him and got nothing more than a little sigh in return, because having Ryeowook with him is infinitely better than any amount of words in the world.

___

Donghae tends to use up all 167 allotted words by the end of the first hour, as Kibum knows he's wont to do. It never bothers him whenever he picks up the phone at the end of the day and calls him, and Donghae's making suppressed sounds of anger and frustration down the line. Kibum pictures Donghae's face, red with the effort of willing himself to not just burst into a fountain of words, each one tripping over the next as he scrambles to tell Kibum how much he's missed him and how much he needs to say to him and how much he hates being unable to talk, but Kibum manages to calm him down each time with just a few whispered words.

It's easy for Kibum to save all his words, because he usually never talks anyway, but somehow, he never finds it a problem using up all his words on Donghae - first to soothe him, then to comfort him, and lastly, to tell him that he loves him. Donghae can never answer, but it doesn’t matter to Kibum; Donghae’s indignation in not being able to reply is enough to tell him how much Donghae cares, anyway.

___

Sungmin and Kyuhyun never have any trouble keeping to the 167-word limit. Kyuhyun’s never happier than when he’s left alone all day in front of his laptop beating up robots, and Sungmin is perfectly at ease left with nothing more than his guitar.

Day after day their room is filled with the noises of loud explosions and grisly slashing sounds in Kyuhyun’s game, against the sweet slow strains of Sungmin plucking at the guitar. Occasionally Kyuhyun will swear out loud (he tries to control himself more nowadays though, because a swear word is a wasted word), and Sungmin will say admonishingly, “Don’t, Kyuhyun.” And whenever Kyuhyun’s tired of his games, he walks over to Sungmin and wraps his arms around him, pressing them together cheek to cheek, and to Kyuhyun, a few gentle kisses, a nuzzle of a nose against a cheek, and a single smile from Sungmin tells him so much more than mere words can.

The opposing sounds could be grating to the ears, but to Sungmin and Kyuhyun, it’s all their sounds, and they’re happier together in their home, even without talking at all, than in the silent world outside.

___

Hankyung is not one to waste words, but he knows Heechul is. What really annoys Hankyung, though, is the way Heechul uses his words. It’s always something like, “Yah, cook some noodles for me”, or “I’m tired; can you get me a drink from the fridge?” or “Does this look good on me, or does that look better?” It’s gotten so that Hankyung has begun saying, out loud, the number of words Heechul uses after every sentence he says, to remind him how many he’s wasted.

It comes to a head one day when Hankyung’s been shouting numbers at Heechul all afternoon, getting progressively louder each time, and finally Heechul snaps, leaping at Hankyung and wrestling him to the floor, screaming at him, and even through the fog of surprise in his mind Hankyung still continues to count down, the reaction automatic by now.

Just as the count goes down to 2 words left, he gets shaken out of his daze by the worry that Heechul will overshoot his limit, and before he can really think he pulls Heechul down to kiss him, bruising and hard and rough, shutting him up the only way he knows how.

Later, he rolls over onto his side to look at Heechul, unmindful of the prickly carpet under his skin, and says softly, “Why don’t you ever say that you love me instead, Heechul?”

Heechul opens his mouth to speak, but Hankyung presses long fingers to his lips to shut him up, ever mindful of his word limit. And Heechul looks back at him with angry eyes and a frown on his face, and Hankyung’s heart plummets – but then Heechul purses his lips ever so slightly, enough to press a quick kiss to the pads of his fingers before he turns away as if it never happened, and with that gesture alone Hankyung realizes that yes, Heechul does love him, even if he never says it.

___

Youngwoon and Jungsu are both stumped by the new rule. Both of them can’t live without talking and laughing, can’t get through an hour without using up all their words. And then the rest of the day is usually spent stewing in frustration as they stare at each other, mouths twitching with the need to speak like they used to, rapidly and loudly and shouting over each other, a need that all the scribbling on loose sheets of paper passed back and forth between them can’t fill.

It happens one day when Jungsu passes a slip of paper to him for what seems like the umpteenth time that day, this time scribbled with a Can you run to the grocery store and get some milk, Youngwoon?, that Youngwoon balls it up in his fist and throws it roughly aside, unable to stand it anymore, and barks, “I’m sick of this, I don’t give a fuck anymore, Jungsu.”

Jungsu’s eyes widen and he hurries over to clap a hand over Youngwoon’s mouth, shaking his head frantically and mouthing No at him, but Youngwoon tears his hand away.

“I don’t care what happens to me,” he says loudly. “I want to have the freedom to talk to you like I used to. I want to be able to hear your voice. I want to be able to say that I love you, without relying on stupid pieces of paper. I hate this, Jungsu.”

Jungsu’s still shaking his head when the knock on the door comes, and his eyes are wild and scared when Youngwoon strides to the door. But before he opens it, he turns and says, quietly, “I don’t care what happens, Jungsu, because I love you, and that is worth saying.”

Eventually Youngwoon is let off with nothing more than a fine and a warning, but it makes him laugh, and when he hands a note to Jungsu saying That was absolutely worth it, Jungsu laughs as well and hugs him, his heart full to overspilling with the three simple words Youngwoon broke the law just to say.

The Sound Of A Heartbreak

thundersquall — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 16:16:50 GMT

Title: The Sound Of A Heartbreak
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Donghae, Kyuhyun/Seohyun (SNSD)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,681
Summary: Donghae thinks about his years of friendship with Kyuhyun, and his unrequited love.

A/N: The second fic I wrote in the SuJu Secret Santa exchange, original post here, for baby_buggs . Her original Santa didn’t submit anything, so I agreed to be a substitute at the last minute. Hope you liked it despite it being so rushed and short (I’ve edited this one slightly and I hope it flows better), and Merry Christmas! ♥

___

i.

Whenever Donghae closes his eyes, he can recall without any effort, this boy he met when he was 16.

He was in high school, and he'd been chasing Hyukjae around all day, because Hyukjae had stolen something from him - Donghae can't even remember what anymore, probably his food or his track shoes out of his locker - and when he'd finally caught up with Hyukjae, the both of them had burst into a music room, laughing and wrestling with each other, only to realise that they'd run in on someone, someone who was, quite clearly, practicing singing, with sheets of music scattered in front of him and a microphone stand.

"Eek," had been all Hyukjae said, before he turned and ran, leaving Donghae to bow and stammer apologies.

"That's all right," the boy had said, shaking back unruly black curls from his face to reveal deep soulful eyes, and Donghae had paused, staring for a most inappropriate amount of time. Then he'd realised that the boy was staring back at him, only now there was a frown on his face and his full lips were pressed into a thin and most unsightly line. It was astounding how unattractive a handsome boy could look, especially when he was angry.

Then it sank in, and Donghae backed out of the room as quickly as he could, stuttering garbled sorry to disturb you's and closing the door.

He didn't move from his spot, though he didn't exactly know why. He hung around, telling himself that he was waiting for Hyukjae (though, to be quite honest, Hyukjae had no reason to come back this way). Then he heard the first strains of music starting, and before long the boy's voice came floating out to him, smooth and rich and deep, wrapping around Donghae like a soothing blanket. He leaned back against the door, closing his eyes and allowing the notes to wash over him.

Donghae remembers that as the point where he decided that he needed to know more about this boy.

ii.

Donghae found out that the boy's name was Kyuhyun, that he was a math genius, that he was a talented singer (well, he'd already known that anyway), and that he was also one of the most aloof people in the school. This was one of the advantages of knowing Heechul, Donghae thought; Heechul knew everyone and everything.

He took to hanging around outside the music rooms on days when he knew Kyuhyun would be there, listening to him sing, until one day when Kyuhyun came out after a practice and saw Donghae lounging outside for the umpteenth time, and asked him, rolling his eyes, why he was always there.

"I like listening to you sing, that's all," Donghae had told him, and it had made Kyuhyun's cheeks colour.

iii.

They'd grown close over the months that remained of the school year, despite the inauspicious start to their friendship, and Donghae remembers one particular time where they were sitting out in the grounds, on the football field; Donghae was still sweaty and muddy from football practice, and they'd been talking and laughing, like they always had. It was different from the kind of friendship he had with Hyukjae, but it was a nice kind of different, even if Donghae couldn't really pinpoint why.

He remembers it because halfway through, Kyuhyun had put an arm around him, not minding his dirty jersey, and had sung something, a melody low and soft and sweet, and it was probably because Donghae had demanded that he sing for him (Donghae liked to demand that at random times). The way Kyuhyun held him was different from the way Hyukjae held him; with Hyukjae, it was comfortable and casual and Donghae would sometimes shrug his arm off in mock disgust, teasing and bantering. WIth Kyuhyun, he felt like he never wanted Kyuhyun's arm off him, and when Kyuhyun drew back, Donghae had felt just the slightest bit disappointed.

That was probably when Donghae realised the difference between Hyukjae and Kyuhyun; Hyukjae was his best friend in the world, but Kyuhyun was the person he was in love with.

iv.

Love is pathetic, Donghae decides.

It’s pathetic because when you kiss him for the first time, it takes a while before you realize that he’s not kissing back.

That was what happened to Donghae, the day before Kyuhyun was due to leave for Seoul, because they were in Kyuhyun’s house, slightly tipsy from alcohol they’d sneaked from Kyuhyun’s father’s fully-stocked wine fridge, to celebrate their high school graduation, and the fact that Kyuhyun had been accepted into a prestigious university there, majoring in math.

Donghae hadn’t gotten anywhere, but that was okay, because all he wanted to do was dance anyway, and he could do that now because he’d gotten a job as a dance instructor, in a reputable academy. It was all good, Donghae had thought, they were both on the paths in their lives that they wanted, even if it meant he would be separated from Kyuhyun, but Kyuhyun had promised that it’d just be for a few years.

Donghae could wait for him to come back, but what couldn’t wait was what he’d wanted to tell Kyuhyun, something he’d been holding back for months, until he’d realized Kyuhyun was leaving him and it was the only chance he would have. And so he had leaned over, and kissed Kyuhyun, feeling how his lips were soft and full against his own, and it had taken all of five seconds before he realized that Kyuhyun wasn’t responding at all, and then Kyuhyun pushed him away gently.

“I’m sorry, Donghae, I like you a lot, but… not in that way,” he said, eyes shifting away, and Donghae heard the sound of his heart breaking.

Love also makes you pathetic, Donghae thinks when he remembers the aftermath of that, him crying his eyes out later when Kyuhyun was fast asleep on his bed, with Donghae lying on the spare mattress on the floor, and he had to stuff his fist into his mouth, biting down hard to muffle his sobs and not wake Kyuhyun.

The next day, when Kyuhyun had left, they'd hugged, but Kyuhyun said nothing about Donghae’s swollen, red-rimmed eyes, or the deep bite marks on his knuckles.

v.

Donghae remembers that in the beginning, they used to write to each other a lot.

There’d be a letter from Kyuhyun at least once a week, sometimes twice, and Donghae would tear it open with shaky hands, eyes greedily devouring Kyuhyun’s untidy scrawl, eating up Kyuhyun’s account of university life, classes, new friends. But Donghae was glad, because Kyuhyun was still writing, so it meant he hadn’t forgotten him for these new people.

He’d always write back, telling him about his job and how wonderful it was, glossing over the nastier aspects of it – twisted ankles, bruises, students and other instructiors trying to get fresh with him. It didn’t really matter to him how crappy his job was, anyway. It was just something to get him through until Kyuhyun came back to him again, and then they could do something together. Donghae had visions of himself moving to Seoul, perhaps joining another dance academy there, perhaps trying out for one of the entertainment companies and becoming a star – Kyuhyun would be so proud of him.

But then the letters dwindled, to once every two weeks, then once every month, then hardly ever at all, and Donghae tried to tell himself that Kyuhyun was busy and that university life was tougher than he’d made it out to be.

He still continued writing to Kyuhyun every week, long after he’d given up on a reply.

vi.

Hi Donghae,

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a while, but I have my reasons for it. I know I’ve been a terrible friend, not replying to your letters for so long, but I think you’ll understand why when I tell you.

I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just be direct about it. I’ve met someone here, in school, and we’ve been dating for some time. She’s a wonderful girl, I think you’ll like her when you meet her. And you have to meet her, because we’re getting married, after graduation. And Donghae, you’re my closest friend, I want you to be at my wedding, as my best man…

vii.

She’s a wonderful girl, just as Kyuhyun had said. Seohyun, that’s her name, and she’s pretty and sweet and just perfect for Kyuhyun.

Donghae stands in the church, waiting at the altar with Kyuhyun as Seohyun walks slowly down the aisle towards them, and the look on Kyuhyun’s face, the sparkle in his eyes, that’s something Donghae has never ever seen throughout the years he’s been with Kyuhyun, something Kyuhyun’s never felt for him.

The pair of rings he carries for them in his breast pocket, next to his heart, seem much too heavy for a couple of small metal circlets, and he can feel their weight against his chest. And when he finally takes them out and puts them shakily into Kyuhyun’s palm, watching as Kyuhyun slides one onto Seohyun’s finger and Seohyun does the same for him, he feels the tears welling up, and he wipes furiously at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Later, after the ceremony, Kyuhyun hugs him and thanks him, laughing at him for being so sentimental, and Donghae laughs back through his sobs, holding him close and trying to ignore how Kyuhyun’s still holding on to Seohyun’s hand with the arm that’s not hugging Donghae.

“I love you, Donghae, and thank you for being here for me,” Kyuhyun whispers into his ear with that beautiful voice of his, and Donghae wonders why his words taste so bitter and sound so much like his heart shattering, before he realizes that it’s just his own tears sliding into his mouth, tinged with the taste of his heartbreak.

And he wishes he was 16 again, and had never met or known Cho Kyuhyun.

No Boundaries

thundersquall — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 06:36:33 GMT

Theme #37: Rotation
Title: No Boundaries
Pairing: Hankyung/Kyuhyun
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,033
Summary: Kyuhyun’s lived in a protected glass dome all his life, safe from the terrors of the outside world. But when he meets a person from there, it forces him to rethink everything that he knows.

A/N: Written for dragons_desire, who asked for a future/post-apocalyptic AU in the SuJu Secret Santa Exchange, original post here. Merry Christmas! ♥ I wrote another fic for the exchange when someone else backed out on their Santee, but I'll post that tomorrow so I won't flood my f-list, haha.

I'm also using this for the 100 Challenge, Theme #37, Rotation. (ROFL I am so lazy.)

___

Ever since he was a child, Kyuhyun’s been told that the Outside is a bad place.

The Inside, where he lives along with the rest of the civilized world’s population of 250,000, is home to Kyuhyun, and all he ever knows. It’s a beautiful world, Kyuhyun always thinks, the weather and temperature carefully regulated by turbines, everything bright and clean and perfectly manicured, surrounded by a glass dome that keeps everyone safe from the hostile Outside.

When Kyuhyun was still in school, he’d been taught that centuries ago, there’d been a war, something terrible that devastated the planet and forced the few remaining thousands of people left into this glass dome. It had originally been much smaller and then enlarged over the years, dome encasing dome encasing dome until it’d grown to its current size. The conditions Outside are terrible, Kyuhyun’s told; volcanoes that never stop erupting, temperatures that fluctuate between freezing, biting cold to scorching hot in the course of a single day, and everything is arid and dry and bleak.

And then of course, there are the Outsiders.

They are the people, Kyuhyun had been taught, who had been left behind when most of the world retreated to the Inside; people who either weren’t allowed in, because of physical deformities (and Kyuhyun can’t grasp the idea of deformities because everywhere he looks in the Inside, people are created to fit in, to be perfect perfect perfect), or people who refused to enter. Kyuhyun’s never really told why these others had refused to come in, but he wonders why there were people who would choose to remain Outside, where it’s dangerous and inhospitable and people have to scrounge off the dead barren soil for a mere mouthful.

He still can’t help thinking, though, that it’ll be nice to see the Outside, just once. Just to stand out there and feel the wind on his face, wind that isn’t created by a person manning a weather system, or see what the sky really looks like beneath the artificial blue and star-speckled black of the dome. He never tells anyone about this though. It won’t do for an Insider to not conform in thought, word, and deed. Conformity means stability, and that’s something the Outside doesn’t have.

___

Kyuhyun’s home is located near the Border, the single gate that connects the Inside to the Outside, and he likes to wander near it, just to stare at the night sky through the glass, and wonder how it manages to look the same as it does on the Inside. Where are the fiery skies of red and black sooty ash that his teachers had always mentioned? And there aren’t miles of cracked, dry ground as far as the eye can see; in fact, while the ground Outside isn’t covered in lush greenery like the Inside is, it’s just – plain and boring, and grassy, with even some shrubs dotted here and there.

The more Kyuhyun sees of the Outside, the more he starts wondering if everything he’s been taught is true. He thinks on this for a few minutes each day before the mental self-censorship, ingrained from years of classes where he’s told that Inside is good, Outside is bad and We do not question, we only obey, kicks in, and he forces himself to think less.

He remembers his teachers always saying, with resigned shakes of their heads, that Kyuhyun will never make a good Insider, because he always thinks too much, questions too much, makes his teachers and fellow Insiders uncomfortable. He remembers thinking, too, that even though no one ever says it, that they probably think something went wrong with his Creation, when he was made, and that’s why he doesn’t blend in with everyone else. It’s not the first time the geneticists at the Creation Laboratory would have messed up with embryos when they’re created, anyway, and occasionally there’ll be people like Kyuhyun, people who don’t conform, who cause instability.

He knows for sure that he’s considered as one of those people when he’s gently informed, upon finishing school, that there’s no need for him to work – when all his peers are assigned jobs according to their talents and abilities, jobs that facilitate the smooth running and continued prosperity of the Inside. Instead, he’s given a house near the Border, suitably far from the city centre, and monthly state handouts, and left to his own devices.

It’s no different from being thrown to the Outside, Kyuhyun feels. But then when he wanders to the Border, walks along it as he trails fingers along the cold glass wall, he finds that being by himself can be good. He has all the time and freedom to think about anything he wants, anything at all.

___

It’s on one of his nightly walks near the Border when he sees an Outsider for the first time.

He normally doesn't see much Outside, because the lights from the Inside blaze so brightly, even at night, that he can't look out. He catches a glimpse of movement though, enough to catch his attention, and as he moves closer to the glass, a face suddenly looms out of the darkness, making him start and jump back, and it disappears as quickly as it had appeared, though Kyuhyun can just make out the Outsider's silhouette as it moves further away from the glass.

He’s breathing heavily and his hands are shaking, because he remembers all too well what his teachers had said about Outsiders, that they’re cold-blooded savages who have no one to guide and lead them like the Insiders have, people who grow up wild on the Outside and who are envious of the beautiful Inside and all the people in here. He also remembers that they were always warned never to try to communicate with any Outsiders they see, because Outsiders wouldn't hesitate to butcher an Insider, and Insiders are all calm and peace-loving, and wouldn't be able to defend themselves.

These thoughts run swiftly through Kyuhyun's mind, but he can't forget the look on the Outsider's face, a look that he’s fairly certain mirrors the fear on his own face. He doesn't understand why a fierce, wild Outsider would be afraid of a defenceless Insider like him. It piques Kyuhyun's curiosity, though he knows better than to tell anyone Inside what he'd seen, and all the questions about Outsiders he’s dying to ask. Curiosity, he knows, isn't a trait that was much valued on the Inside.

And then he realizes: this is an advantage of being left alone, because he can do whatever he wants.

___

Kyuhyun begins seeing that Outsider almost every night from then.

It always starts off like the first time they'd seen each other; Kyuhyun will be walking along the Border, and there’ll be a movement off to his left, and when he turns, he'll see that Outsider, pressed against the glass, looking in, and both of them will jump before the Outsider will turn and leave, disappearing into the blackness of the plains outside.

The fourteenth, or maybe fifteenth time Kyuhyun sees the Outsider, he doesn’t jump. He steps forward, hesitantly at first, and the Outsider shrinks back, but before he can turn away Kyuhyun reaches out and places his hand on the glass.

This close, Kyuhyun can clearly see the look of shock that crosses the Outsider’s face, and if he’s to be honest with himself he’s scared, too; years and years of repression and obedience, pared down to this, his hand on the Border and waiting for a response from an Outsider. But more than the fear, Kyuhyun wants to know, wants to learn, wants to feel something other than what the Inside, always sanitary and orderly and perfect, can give him.

He’s concentrating so hard on trying to slow his thumping heart that he almost doesn’t see it when the Outsider lifts a hand slowly and puts it against the glass, right where Kyuhyun’s hand is, and as Kyuhyun stares at it he fancies that he can feel the warmth of the Outsider’s hand, traveling straight through the six inches of the special glass-and-plastic alloy that makes up the Border, into his own hand and body.

Then the Outsider smiles, and Kyuhyun blinks, because that smile transforms his entire face, makes his eyes crinkle attractively at the corners and his whole countenance soften. The Outsider curls his fingers slightly, and so does Kyuhyun, and before he knows it, he’s smiling too.

Kyuhyun’s never thought that this barest minimum of contact with the Outside can be so fulfilling.

___

It’s the closest thing Kyuhyun’s ever had to a proper friendship, glass barrier notwithstanding; he finds himself heading to the Border everyday, settling himself crosslegged on the lush grass carpet in front of the Barrier, shielding his eyes from the sunlight Outside that streams in to blend with the artificial light on the Inside, waiting for the Outsider. He’s always there soon enough, sometimes even before Kyuhyun arrives, and he sits down just like Kyuhyun does, except that the ground he sits on is bare and the soil is loose and crumbling.

Now that they meet during the day, Kyuhyun can see that the Outsider looks just like any Insider does, with the same skin, same four limbs, same everything. His clothes are simple and archaic, compared to what Insiders normally wear, but they fit him nicely, the indeterminate fabric at his legs tight and accentuating little swells of muscle that Kyuhyun finds himself fixating on. He’s wearing only a single layer on top that Kyuhyun can see, the cutting and design unfamiliar to Kyuhyun, and he tugs self-consciously at the collar of his polyester garment, the artificial fibres suddenly uncomfortable against his skin. But above all, his clothes look normal, he looks normal, nothing at all like the wild-eyed, shaggy-haired savage dressed in the skins of people they’ve killed, unlike what he’s been imagining all his life.

They smile at each other a lot, sometimes pressing fingers to the glass and laughing when their fingers leave smudges that magically disappear after a few seconds, the material of the Border always maintaining its pristine appearance. Sometimes the Outsider swipes quick strokes across the glass, forming shapes and symbols that slowly dissolve, and it takes Kyuhyun a while before he realizes that the Outsider’s trying to write messages to him, but they vanish too quickly for him to pick anything up.

Kyuhyun hits on the idea of trying to speak to the Outsider after a frustrating hour in which both of them scrawl messages on the glass, which disappear all too soon, and even though Kyuhyun still isn’t certain if they even speak or write the same language (that’s something the teachers back in school never did mention, he recalls ruefully), he tries it out by mouthing a simple, Hello.

The Outsider’s eyes widen and he cocks his head to the side, and Kyuhyun tries again, moving his lips carefully and slowly. Can you understand me?

There’s a few seconds of tension, and then the Outsider’s face splits into a wide grin, and he nods, mouthing in return, Yes, yes.

Kyuhyun feels a prickle of excitement run down his spine – more than a prickle; goosebumps are rising on his arms despite the balmy warmth of the Inside and his palms are sweaty and there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow away, because as far as he knows, he’s the first Insider in centuries to speak to an Outsider.

What’s your name? he asks, almost shaking in his excitement.

It takes several times before he can read what the Outsider says, but when he catches it, he says it out loud, tests the name on his tongue. “Hankyung,” he says, the syllables not at all unfamiliar. “Hankyung,” he repeats, and the Outsider smiles and nods.

___

I’ve always wanted to go Outside, Kyuhyun tells Hankyung one day.

Hankyung’s playing with bits of grass on the Outside, kicking disconsolately with his boots at the Border as if he wants nothing more than to trample it down, but he stops when he reads what Kyuhyun’s said. Really?

Yeah, really.

Hankyung laughs, and Kyuhyun imagines – wishes – that he can hear his laugh, hear his voice. Why? Don’t you always tell me how comfortable it is Inside?

Kyuhyun shifts so that he’s leaning sideways against the glass, his body making an imprint against the material, and Hankyung moves so he can lean against the glass as well, against Kyuhyun. I don’t know, he says, careful to turn his head so Hankyung can see him speak. I just feel like there’s nothing for me here, really.

And there’s something for you on the Outside?

Kyuhyun stops to think. He thinks of all that he’s learned on the Inside, all that he’s felt. He thinks of how he’s lived his life, ostracized by everyone else because he’s a possible cause of instability, thrown out alone near the Border, a drain on state resources. He thinks of how he’s always challenged everything he’s been taught and told, how he’s wanted to break out of the suffocating expectations placed on him to be someone he’s not. He thinks about how absolutely unfair it is that all these happened to him, simply because some geneticist forgot to give him a certain enzyme or didn’t splice his cells correctly when he was an embryo, and because of that, he’s not a robot like the rest, passive and obedient and content with their lot, and he has to shoulder the stigma of being a threat to the carefully-maintained society the Inside’s built on.

Most of all he thinks about Hankyung, and how Hankyung has given him more happiness and contentment in a month than he’s had in 21 years Inside.

There is something very important to me Outside, he tells Hankyung at last. Something that I wouldn’t mind leaving the Inside and everything here for.

Hankyung’s smiling at him as he says it, that soft smile that makes Kyuhyun’s breath catch in his throat as Hankyung’s eyes curve into perfect half-moons. I’ll dance for you when come Outside, he says.

You dance?

Hankyung nods. I do, he says, and Kyuhyun imagines Hankyung in his mind, all beautifully sculpted muscles and pure control, spinning and whirling with spellbinding grace, and it takes his breath away even in his mind. He leans his cheek against the glass, and sees Hankyung do the same from the corner of his eye.

___

Tell me about the Outside, he demands of Hankyung one day, and Hankyung looks astonished at his question.

Don’t they tell you how it’s like? he asks, and Kyuhyun frowns, because yes they’ve told him, only he isn’t sure if it’s the truth.

I want to hear it from you, he says, and Hankyung, as always, gives in to him without question.

He watches Hankyung’s lips carefully, feeling lost in the multitude of words that are so strange and foreign to him, words like government (the concept doesn’t exist in a society that’s presided over by a single Controller), nuclear weapons (a peaceful, loving society needs no weapons, he’s been told), and birth and parents (in Kyuhyun’s world, there are only the geneticists who grow embryos, there is only a Creation, and children are cared for by teachers until they begin work in their pre-assigned jobs).

That’s also how Kyuhyun learns that everything he’s been told by the Insiders are lies, because those hundreds of years ago, after the war that killed most of the world’s population, a handful of people, who would later become the predecessors of all the 250,000 people currently living on the Inside, retreated inside the glass dome they’d had commissioned before the war began, and barred entry to everyone else.

Wait, Kyuhyun says. They prepared the dome before the war started?

Hankyung’s face is somber as he nods, eyes searching Kyuhyun’s face as light begins to dawn on Kyuhyun.

The Insiders caused the war, didn’t they, he says quietly, and Hankyung nods again.

Kyuhyun feels fury rising up in him, such as he’s never felt before, imagining the elaborate cloak of lies they’ve constructed, passing it on generation after generation, and finally to him. And they chose to save themselves, and not anyone else?

Yes, Hankyung says. But some people survived outside, and those are our ancestors. And it’s been centuries, Kyuhyun, centuries without machines or wars or pollution, and the planet has been recovering. It’s not all doom and gloom out here. It’s not all ash and smog and unbreathable air and starvation.

Kyuhyun looks at Hankyung, at his animated face, the brightness of his expression, and yearns for that same happiness, the same freedom that Hankyung has Outside, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be able to step on real soil, breathe real air, and hold Hankyung’s hand in his without this stupid barrier between them.

I want to go Outside, he says with newfound determination, and Hankyung unfolds himself from the ground, grit falling from his pants, all long lean limbs and lithe gracefulness with every movement.

I’ll be here, is all he says.

___

The Border is always open from the Inside, Kyuhyun knows. Anyone Inside can step out anytime they wish, but the problem is, it isn’t accessible from the Outside, so once someone leaves, they can never come back.

Kyuhyun steps up to the retina scanner mounted on the gate of the Border, and he’s shaking so hard that he has to realign himself several times with it before it can scan his iris properly.

His fingers are shaking, too, when he’s prompted to press the green button for ‘Yes’ or red for ‘No’, and they slip off the button several times before he manages to depress it, and the sound of the gate clicking open sends tremors through his body.

But he pushes the gate open and stands in the gateway for a moment, trembling as a cool breeze from the Outside strokes past his face, and it feels and smells so different from the inside – more earthy, more rich, more real. And for a second his resolve wavers, and he almost turns to step back in, but he remembers Hankyung, and how he’d promised Kyuhyun he’d be there, and Kyuhyun steps out completely, letting go of the gate.

It clangs shut behind him, the sound resonating with dull finality in Kyuhyun’s ears.

He’s still shivering when he turns to face the wide vastness of the Outside, but he sees Hankyung in the distance running towards him, running with a broad grin on his face. He almost cries, except he doesn’t because Hankyung has reached him, and it’s all he can do to collapse against him, his legs unable to hold him anymore.

But Hankyung does.

___

Hankyung doesn’t live near the Border, as Kyuhyun expects; he lives in a proper city further inland, a place not unlike the Inside according to Hankyung’s descriptions, except perhaps less modern, because “we’ve learned our lesson, machines aren’t necessary for survival”, as Hankyung puts it. But he has a tent, bivouacked some miles from the Border, because Hankyung, much like Kyuhyun with the Outside, has always had a fascination with the Inside and the Insiders, and used to explore the Border frequently.

“And then?” Kyuhyun asks as they walk together to his tent, still marveling at the feel of rough grit under the soles of his cloth shoes, suitable for artificial grass and carpet but not the raw ground of the Outside; Hankyung’s promised to make him clothes and boots, and Kyuhyun finds himself fascinated by the thought of Hankyung’s nimble fingers fashioning things that will be draped onto him.

“And then I found you,” is all Hankyung says, almost casually, and it isn’t really an answer to Kyuhyun’s question, but he’s too distracted by the fact that he can now hear Hankyung, his accent unfamiliar and different from what Kyuhyun’s used to but still somehow enchanting, and that he can now feel him as well, as he demonstrates by taking Kyuhyun’s hand as they walk.

Kyuhyun squeezes him tightly, stumbling a little over uneven ground that he’s not used to, Hankyung’s hand warm and callused in his and so, so different from touching it through a glass barrier.

___

Kyuhyun’s still amazed at everything he sees after a month, from the sight of Hankyung’s hunting rifle to the books he has, about things Kyuhyun’s never heard of before like religion, philosophy, history. He devours the books Hankyung has in his tent, exclaiming at every sentence and asking questions often. Hankyung laughs at him sometimes, and he snaps back at Hankyung, but at night they wrap themselves in blankets against the chilly air, so different from the teperature-controlled Inside, but so much better with Hankyung’s warm body pressed against his.

It’s their end of their first month together when Hankyung builds a fire outside the tent at night so he can grill slices of meat for both of them, carved off a boar he’d shot himself. Kyuhyun’s never even seen a wild boar before today, all the food on the Inside made from a complex scientific process that produces packages of nutritious but boring mush, but the moment Hankyung feeds him the first slice he knows, for certain, that he doesn’t regret leaving the Inside.

He’s full to bursting when he leans back on the rocky soil, tucking his arms behind his head and staring up at the night sky, bursting with stars and so, so much prettier than the artificial one the Inside creates, and he thinks it’s amazing how 21 years of teaching can melt away just like this, until he can spread himself out on the ground of the place he’s always been taught to fear. “How was it?” Hankyung wants to know, beaming, and Kyuhyun opens his mouth to answer but he remembers something else.

“Dance for me, Hankyung,” he says, and Hankyung, who’s about to settle himself next to Kyuhyun, stills.

“You want me to?” he says in a hushed voice, as if not quite daring to believe it.

“You said you would,” Kyuhyun says, sitting up and staring at him.

Hankyung smiles. “So I did,” he replies, and Kyuhyun, hardly able to help himself, leans forward and kisses him impulsively.

“Dance for me,” he repeats against Hankyung’s lips, every movement sending frissons down his spine, and Hankyung’s hands are on his arms, his hips, pulling him closer. “Dance for me,” he says, and Hankyung pulls back.

“I will,” he promises.

___

Hankyung is almost like beauty personified as he whirls around Kyuhyun in tight circles, balance in every limb from the tips of his fingers to his pointed toes, symmetry and agility and elegance all at once, the flrelight flickering off the strong planes of his face. It only stands to reason that Kyuhyun should stand up halfway through his dance and reach out to stop him in his tracks, and Hankyung’s still breathing hard from exertion when Kyuhyun kisses him again, thin lanky form moulding to Hankyung’s lean, stronger one, fingers slipping on Hankyung’s sweaty skin.

___

“I think I love you,” Hankyung whispers against his skin later that night, his breath hot and his hands and lips sensuous over the planes of Kyuhyun’s body.

“Love?” Kyuhyun says breathlessly. “What’s that?”

“I’ll show you,” Hankyung says. “I’ll tell you everyday, and show you everyday, until you know what it is, and you can tell me in return.”

Kyuhyun gasps slightly and arches his head back as Hankyung drags his tongue across his neck, rough and wet and with the slightest hint of teeth. “If I say that I don’t regret leaving the Inside, that I’m willing to stay on the Outside with you, that you make me happier than I’ve ever been, is that love?”

Hankyung finds his lips again and kisses him hungrily, swallowing his gasps. “It is,” he murmurs, and Kyuhyun wraps his arms around his neck.

“Then I love you,” he whispers into Hankyung’s mouth, and feels him smile, soft lips curving into crescents like his eyes.

The Sound Of Music

thundersquall — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 21:42:18 GMT

Title: The Sound Of Music
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,092
Summary: Sex on a keyboard. Pure PWP. Inspired wholly by this photo and this photo, and this video.

A/N: Dedicated to terra_forensis and chibi_roses, for their infinite patience in waiting for their, uh, nonexistent (as of yet) birthday fics. And god, I am sorry for writing so much porn recently. I'm going back to PG-13 for the next few, promise.

Also, this should have been purely keyboard!sex, but I blame zenfu for putting mentals of Ryeowook bound to the keyboard in my head. Please to be directing complaints to her. ;D

___

"Spread your legs, Ryeowook. Wider."

Ryeowook's legs were already trembling from the strain of being on tiptoe, but he obediently moved them apart more just as Yesung had asked him to. He was breathing hard, his body bent so far over the high keyboard that his hands were clutching the back legs of the keyboard stand, where Yesung had bound them by the wrists to the cold metal using the silk ties he'd torn off both their shirts.

"Are you in pain?" he heard Yesung's husky voice from behind him, a warm hand running over the delicate bones of his ankle, up over his calf and thigh, where the muscles were taut with exertion. He slipped a little at the touch, his leg buckling; it caused his body to slide back down a few inches, and his hands pulled at the metal legs they were tied to, causing the keyboard to wobble dangerously.

"Hyung..." he breathed, feeling Yesung's hand moving over the swell of his hip and his butt, fingertips dipping just slightly into the cleft, making him wriggle. "Hyung, please, quick, stop teasing..."

Yesung chuckled from behind him, his low laugh washing over Ryeowook like dark honey. "So impatient, Ryeowook?"

"We - we'll get caught, hyung, please," Ryeowook said in a small voice. It was true, he'd been tied to the keyboard for at least half an hour, and in that time all Yesung had been doing was touching him, stroking his legs, his ass, sliding his hands under the stiff fabric of his blazer and button-down shirt to rub his spine. Basically, he was touching everywhere except where Ryeowook wanted, needed, burned to be touched, and now he squirmed backwards as far as he could, wanting Yesung's fingers inside of him, even as his cock ached with need, painting trails of precome over the ivory-coloured keys of the keyboard.

Another laugh. "I don't think that's what you're worried about. I don't think you'd care even if someone were to walk in now and see you like this, bent over the keyboard, legs spread and waiting for me. In fact, you'd love it, wouldn't you, Ryeowook?"

"N - no," Ryeowook said, ending in a loud gasp because Yesung had finally pushed a finger into him, slick and cold with lube that Ryeowook didn't know he had. His mind filled with images of some nameless stranger walking in on them just as Yesung had said, someone who'd see him splayed open as Yesung fucked him hard while he gasped and moaned and begged for more, and the thought made his head spin as another wave of desire rolled over him. "Oh fuck, hyung..."

He pushed back eagerly, forgetting where he was for the moment, and the flimsy stand he was tied to rocked back; Yesung pushed him roughly with the hand he was fucking Ryeowook with, and both the keyboard and Ryeowook fell back forward.

"That's expensive, Ryeowook," Yesung said, his voice dark with warning. "If it falls over, I'm going to stop."

"Hyung, hyung, no, please..."

"I will," Yesung repeated, and Ryeowook could hear the conviction in his voice. "I will stop, and I will leave you here like this, and I will keep the door open so that anyone - anyone - who walks past can see what a dirty little whore you are."

Ryeowook shuddered, both at Yesung's words, and at the feel of a second finger pushing into him, Yesung working them slowly in and out of him. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Yesung, who was smiling darkly at him, and Ryeowook felt a frisson of desire go through him at the way Yesung ran his tongue across his lips while looking down at him.

"Do you want me in you, Ryeowook?" Yesung asked softly, and Ryeowook nodded frantically, hoisting himself up as high as he could go on his toes, offering himself to Yesung and rocking on his fingers, which were making teasing little flicks against that spot inside him that made him pant and moan for more because it just wasn't enough. His cock rubbed against the keyboard as he squirmed, the keys too smooth and cold for any real friction, and he whimpered in slight frustration, mutely pleading with Yesung to fuck him already and stop with the teasing.

"Answer me," Yesung demanded, and crooked his fingers inside Ryeowook; Ryeowook gasped out loud, closing his eyes and turning back to face the front so that Yesung wouldn't see his cheeks burning.

"Yes," he whispered, unconsciously rocking back and forth on those fingers, wanting more. "Yes, please, hyung, I want you, please..."

Yesung withdrew his fingers and Ryeowook stifled a small whimper at the sudden loss. "Beg for it, Ryeowook."

"Hyung, please, just - "

"I said, beg," Yesung said, and when Ryeowook turned to look at him again he was lubing himself up, spreading lube thickly over his cock and stroking it as he did so, and Ryeowook could only whine at the sight because he wanted that inside him so much, wanted those hands on his own cock, and Yesung was being a sadistic bastard about this.

"Please, hyung," he managed, his tongue feeling too thick in his mouth and the stiff collar of his shirt just the slightest bit suffocating. "Jongwoon, please, fuck me, I want to you fuck me, please..."

Yesung placed slippery hands on his hips and dragged his cock teasingly down the cleft of his buttocks, and Ryeowook could feel him at his entrance, so close, but not nearly there. "That's not good enough, Ryeowook. You can beg better than this, can't you?"

Ryeowook moaned, the feel of Yesung's cock pushing against him, but not inside him, maddeningly aggravating. He bit his lip, wishing Yesung wasn't such a fucking tease, and whispered a half-hearted, "Please."

He felt Yesung pull back and when he looked over he was striding away from Ryeowook, over to where their pants were flung in a corner of the rehearsal room, and as he watched in horror Yesung plucked his own boxers from the pile and prepared to dress up.

"No!" The wail tore from his throat before he could think. "No, hyung, please, god please, don't go, don't leave me here, please!"

Yesung paused, boxers still dangling from his hands, and stared at him. "Are you going to listen to me now? Will you do whatever I tell you to?"

"Yes," Ryeowook sobbed. His legs ached; he let himself rest back on the soles of his feet again, only for his wrists to pull at the stand, and the keyboard tipped back precariously until he lifted himself on tiptoe again, looking back at Yesung and spreading his legs wantonly. "Please, hyung, just - please - "

Yesung flung his boxers back onto the pile and stalked back to him, his gaze dark and intense and even at this moment, so arrestingly sexual to Ryeowook. "When I say beg, I mean beg."

"Please," Ryeowook said without hesitation this time, shuddering as Yesung's hands went back on his skin. "Hyung, please, take me now, just fuck me already, I'm so ready for you, please, I need you so fucking much, I cant stand it anymore..."

"You're such a little whore, Ryeowook," Yesung said huskily, and Ryeowook shut his eyes because just that voice of his, it was enough to drive him insane with want, if he wasn't already.

"I am," he gasped out, pushing back when he felt Yesung spread his cheeks apart with his hands, his cock pressing gently against him; Yesung growled and held him in place, preventing him from moving. "Fuck, Jongwoon, I'm yours, I'm your whore, just please, please, fuck me now, fuck me like the slut I am, I want it, I want it so much, please - "

Yesung let out a low groan and before he knew it Yesung had pushed roughly into him, sliding in until he was buried all the way, knocking the breath out of Ryeowook so he could only manage a "Fuck, yes." It was delicious, the feel of Yesung throbbing inside him, hot and burning and painful but so, so good, and he clenched tightly around Yesung, listening with some satisfaction to the gasp Yesung let out. "Move, hyung, fuck me, fuck me..."

"If that keyboard falls, Ryeowook, I'm stopping, you hear me?" Yesung said, his voice a mere raspy growl, and Ryeowook's fingers curled reflexively around the legs of the stand, gripping on tight before he nodded.

Yesung pulled out slowly and slammed back into him with so much force that he nearly pitched forward. He wasn't expecting this much; his balance was off already with him on tiptoes over the keyboard and the silk ties restraining his hands tugging dangerously at the legs. He pulled his wrists upwards desperately to steady the keyboard again, but Yesung was pounding roughly into him, over and over, and the keyboard was rocking and swaying and he was crying out at the pain and the pleasure and the sheer frustration of keeping the fucking keyboard upright because at this moment, he couldn't care less if it crashed into a million pieces, as long as Yesung kept on fucking him the way he was doing.

"Harder," he said through gritted teeth, leaning his forehead against the cool metal and trying to use his body weight to stabilise the instrument, his cock pressing into the cold, impersonal keys. "More, hyung, fuck me - "

Yesung slammed into him, right into his spot, sending stars bursting behind his closed eyelids as he desperately clung on to the stand, dragging his cock across the keys for some much-needed friction. "You're so fucking tight, Ryeowook," Yesung groaned, and Ryeowook tightened around him more, pushing him closer to his peak.

"Hyung," he gasped. "Hyung, please, I need it, I need to come, hyung make me come, Jongwoon - "

Yesung reached over his body - the keyboard and its flimsy stand shook with their combined weight - and swiftly pulled at the tie binding his left hand; it slid loose smoothly and Ryeowook instinctively wrapped his hand around his cock, his knuckles pressing painfully into the keys. He didn't have much leverage to move his hand at all but he didn't much care, because Yesung was still leaning over him, mouthing at the back of his neck and dragging his teeth across his shoulderblades, his tongue hot and rough over delicate skin.

He pulled on his cock as best as he could, his thumb stroking over the sensitive head, just as Yesung thrust hard into him and sucked a lovebite into his shoulder, and it tipped him over; he came with a loud wail, colours exploding behind his closed eyelids and come splattering over the black and white keys, even as Yesung pressed him down more firmly and continued fucking him through his orgasm, his shirt smearing the streaks of come over the instrument and soaking into the fabric.

"Don't you fucking - let that - fall," Yesung gasped out, still pounding him roughly against the shaky keyboard, and now that he'd come his whole body was limp and his legs couldn't stand tiptoeing much longer. But he held on, the fingers of his tied hand already numb, the other hand holding on to the keyboard itself to stop it from rocking.

Then Yesung pushed into him one last time and finally came, husky gasps of Ryeowook's name falling from his lips as he pressed them to Ryeowook's neck, his breath hot against his skin. Ryeowook turned his head blindly and found Yesung's lips, kissing him hungrily, feeling him give a few more slow thrusts to ride his orgasm out, his come trickling down Ryeowook's thighs.

"Fuck, that was hot," Yesung breathed against his lips, and Ryeowook pulled back, glaring.

"Don't you ever do something like that again," he said. "Don't threaten me like that, hyung."

Yesung chuckled, lifting off him; the stand creaked, and Ryeowook undid the knot around his other wrist, sliding off the keyboard and back onto his feet with a sigh. He stumbled slightly, muscles aching, and Yesung caught him in his arms, pressing kisses to his forehead, cheeks, lips.

"But you enjoyed it," he said, and Ryeowook would have flushed, or snapped at him, but Yesung was kissing him, his hand massaging his sore thighs, and Ryeowook felt himself stir again.

"Let's go again," Yesung said huskily, his lips never leaving Ryeowook's skin. "We'll do it on Siwon's drums this time."

Everlasting

thundersquall — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 18:53:51 GMT

Title: Everlasting
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,158
Summary: Based off both the Sorry Sorry (Answer) MV and the post-band!verse written by hoyah in Back At The Beginning. PWP.

A/N: hoyah, ddangkkoma, meiface, shiryu_yugure, hotarumyst , terra_forensis, chibi_roses, oppaaaarrrr, and whoever else coerced me into writing this, I hope you are all happy with this piece of fail. It ate my soul for two days, okay?! The porn mojo, it is Not There anymore.

___

Yesung tastes the same even after five years, his mouth flavoured with smoke and alcohol and his lips rough and dry, but Ryeowook relishes it, teeth nipping at Yesung's lower lip hungrily as he's being pushed backwards, his back hitting the bookshelf with a thud and sending a dull flare of pain through him. It dissipates quickly, though, Yesung's hands travelling over his hurt back and down to his butt where he cups it and pulls Ryeowook close to him, their tongues meshing as he grinds himself against Ryeowook, needy and wanting and all so familiar.

Yesung smells the same too, a heady mixture of cologne and his own musky scent as he licks wet trails down Ryeowook's jawline and neck, fingers fumbling at the buttons of Ryeowook's shirt and undoing just enough so he can nose the collar aside and tongue at the hollow of his throat.

"Hyung... Jongwoon," Ryeowook whispers as Yesung mouths at his shoulder, and the sound of his name from Ryeowook's lips for the first time in five years seems to stir him into a frenzy; he pulls away long enough to yank Ryeowook's pants and his down before hoisting him up, allowing him to wrap his legs around his hips, and as Ryeowook locks his ankles behind Yesung he thinks how it all still feels the same, Yesung's biceps rippling under his fingers with the effort of holding him up.

He tugs at Yesung's hair, bringing him back up so he can kiss his lips again, because he just can't get enough of the taste of Yesung's mouth, hot and familiar and welcoming. Yesung slides two fingers between their lips as they kiss, allowing Ryeowook to trace his tongue over the callused pads, sucking on them and Yesung's lips at the same time, before Yesung pulls them away and licks away the thin string of saliva that comes off from Ryeowook's lips.

Yesung doesn't wait, doesn't bother to be careful; he pushes his wet fingers in almost knuckle-deep in one go, making Ryeowook gasp and curl his fingers into Yesung's biceps. "That hur - " he begins, but Yesung shuts him up with another kiss, fingers moving quickly as he probes deeper. It doesn't take him long to find that spot inside Ryeowook that makes him break the kiss with a gasp, throwing his head back so it thuds against the spines of the books behind him; Ryeowook knows that no matter how much time has passed, Yesung has him mapped out to perfection still, every line and curve of his body putty in Yesung's hands.

"Just fuck me, Jongwoon, fuck me now," he gasps as his hips move with a life of their own, rocking himself on Yesung's fingers as they move torturously slow inside him, and oh god, he just needs Yesung inside him now, fill him up like he used to do, until the world itself would melt into nothingness and all that he could see and feel was Yesung.

"Five years, Ryeowook, I've waited for you all this while," Yesung murmurs into his mouth, and it's all Ryeowook can do to not choke up because yes, he's missed Yesung, he's missed this, the feeling of Yesung sliding slowly into him until he's completely inside of him, stretching him apart and sucking a lovebite into his neck as the heat of him scorches Ryeowook from the inside out. He doesn't wait for Yesung to move; he wraps his arms around Yesung's neck to support himself before he's lifting himself off and back down onto him, listening to Yesung's throaty moan as he fucks himself on him, going faster and faster, disregarding the hard edges of the bookshelf cutting into his back.

"Do that again, Ryeowook," Yesung says huskily when Ryeowook stops and leans back into the shelf, panting from the effort and strands of hair already stuck to his cheekbones. Ryeowook shakes his head, slides his hands down Yesung's arms, his heels digging into the small of Yesung's back as he pulls him closer and deeper.

"No, I want you to fuck me," he says, leaning forward and licking at a drop of sweat trickling down Yesung's jawline, feeling Yesung tense up under his touch. "Please, Jongwoon. Hyung, please."

He's not expecting it when Yesung lets out a soft growl and slams into him, so hard that the breath's knocked out of him and he's pushed back painfully into the bookshelf. He cries out, partly in surprise, partly in pleasure, and takes one hand off Yesung so he can grip the shelf behind him, clutching on tightly as Yesung begins pounding into him frenziedly, paying no mind to the rattling and shaking of the shelf and the way Ryeowook's spine thuds into it.

"Faster," he manages to gasp out before Yesung pounds into him again, sending stars exploding behind his eyes as he squeezes them shut, fingers slipping off Yesung's sweaty arm. Yesung obliges, rocking into him with abandon, one arm around his waist and slipping the other hand between their bodies, fighting through the folds of fabric and closing around his cock, stroking it roughly and firmly. Ryeowook can literally feel his legs weaken at his touch, sliding off Yesung's waist until Yesung hoists him up again with a grunt, knocking him into the shelf over and over as he bites his lip and tries not to make too much noise.

"I want to hear you," Yesung grunts, slamming in as deep as he can go and Ryeowook whimpers softly, clawing at Yesung.

"Louder," he demands, teeth scraping against Ryeowook's jaw as he tugs on his cock, once, twice, three times, and Ryeowook can't help but let go; he throws his head back and screams Yesung's name as he comes all over Yesung's jacket, five years of pent-up frustration and need and heady desire in his cry and his orgasm, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him as Yesung strokes him mercilessly through it, his hand slippery with Ryeowook's come.

When it's over and Ryeowook's clinging bonelessly on to Yesung, gasping for breath and leaning his forehead against Yesung's shoulder, he feels Yesung drop soft kisses on the top of his damp hair as he gently unwraps Ryeowook's legs from around him and allows him to stand on his feet again.

"I've missed you, Ryeowook," he hears Yesung whisper, and he tilts his head up blindly, searching for Yesung's lips again, kissing him soft and sweet, feeling calm and himself for the first time in five years.

They slip back out of the study after a while, Yesung's stained jacket discarded back in it, and everyone pretends not to notice that they've been away for over an hour, or that they're hand in hand. But Ryeowook, pressing subtly into Yesung's side as they clink glasses with the others, has never felt more complete, five years from the last time he had his hand in Yesung's.

Colours Of You

thundersquall — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 11:19:39 GMT

Title: Colours Of You
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Seohyun (SNSD)
Rating: G
Word count: 1,000
Summary: Seohyun meets an artist who creates beauty in her life.
A/N: Written based on the Seoul Song MV, which has got to be the cutest MV of the year. Seohyun and Kyuhyun are so adorable in there, I just had to write this! They may just be my new het OTP. =/

___

Seohyun meets the artist for the first time at the Cheonggye Stream, on her summer job as a mascot for an events management company.

It's hot and stifling in the costume, strands of long hair sticking to her face as rivulets of sweat run down her neck (and oh, god, this costume is going to stink by the end of the day), but she's glad for the huge headgear over her face, because it means she can allow her gaze to linger on the artist as long as she likes without fear of him noticing.

He's probably a couple of years older than her at the most, a lean lanky boy with a shock of black curls and dark soulful eyes that glaze over in concentration when he's drawing. His fingers are stained black with charcoal dust, patches of sooty grey smudged on his clothes, but he never notices, long slender fingers dancing over the easel and coaxing shape and form from blank white paper.

Seohyun finds herself fascinated by his hands, the way he creates beauty from a few sparse lines, the way his fingertips stroke over those lines to blend and blur and smudge, until patterns begin appearing and mould together into stunning landscapes and portraits. He doesn't seem to do this for money, Seohyun muses as she watches him. He sits and draws for a few hours each day, and then he packs up and leaves.

Seohyun always feels kind of empty when he's not there.

___

Then there comes a day when Seohyun arrives at the stream, her eyes automatically roving to the spot where the artist usually sits, and discovers to her disappointment that he isn't there.

She spends the rest of the day subdued and withdrawn, and the children she's supposed to be playing with have to nudge her before she remembers to hand them their balloons, but even their laughter and the confusion of colours don't seem as bright as they used to be. She sits down by the side of the stream after a while, feeling uncharacteristically tired, and takes her headgear off, allowing the wind to gust across her skin, lift strands of hair from her neck and shoulders. She's still staring, downcast, at the huge face of the smiley girl she's supposed to be, when a shadow falls across her and she looks up to see the artist, holding a can out to her.

Seohyun's too stunned to speak, staring at the way his hair falls into his eyes and how his lips are full and perfect and smiling, and then she realises that they're moving, and that he's saying, "This is for you."

She feels a blush creep over her cheeks, but gathers herself enough to rise to her feet, bowing awkwardly and clutching at her stupid headgear with one hand while tugging self-consciously at the silly pink outfit she's in with the other. When she looks up though, he's still smiling, and he sits down next to her, motioning for her to sit as well.

"I thought you might need a cold drink," he's saying as Seohyun gingerly takes the can of soda from him. "I see you here everyday, in that costume. It must be hard work."

"You see me?" Seohyun asks, surprised out of her shyness.

The artist laughs, and his laughter, like his voice, is deep and rich and soothing. "Sure I do, can't miss you."

Seohyun blushes again and looks away, but then the artist says, "Hey, I'm Kyuhyun, by the way."

She turns back to look at him, at how the setting sun creates a halo of gold behind his dark curls, and says, "I'm Seohyun." Then before she loses her nerve, she rushes on, "I've seen you draw, and I love your artwork."

Kyuhyun smiles at her, and she literally feels herself melt to the tips of her very toes. "I'll draw you one day," he says softly, and Seohyun looks down, her cheeks burning.

___

It's the very next day when she arrives at the stream, and Kyuhyun is already there at his usual spot, brow furrowed as he sweeps a stick of charcoal over the paper stretched across his easel. He looks up only enough to give Seohyun, still in her costume, a small wave of acknowledgment before going right back to his drawing.

Seohyun would have felt a pang of disappointment, except that Kyuhyun tilts his easel so that Seohyun can see what he's sketching, and her breath catches in her throat as she sees her own face in profile, lips slightly tilted in a smile, long hair sweeping over her shoulder. Kyuhyun looks up then, straight at her, and smiles brighter than the sun, his fingers stroking over the lines for her hair, her chin, her eyes, and Seohyun feels like she wants to cry from the beauty Kyuhyun creates.

Later, when Kyuhyun comes over to give her the finished portrait, their hands brush as she takes it from him, leaving a smudge of black on the back of her hand. She stares at it, knowing that just like that, Kyuhyun's made a mark on her, on her heart, and when Kyuhyun asks her to go out with him for dinner, she says yes without any hesitation, because she wishes - wants - to make a mark on him too.

But from the way Kyuhyun's looking at her, with his eyes sparkling and his smile soft, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she's already left her mark on him, and it's in the shape of the piece of paper she holds in her hands.

It's Not A Fault If It's Love

thundersquall — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 11:11:09 GMT

Title: It's Not A Fault If It's Love
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 921
Summary: Yesung loves Ryeowook, so Yesung has to accept him as he is, irritating or not.
A/N: Written for my oppaaarrrr (who wants to be ninja), born out of a single photograph and a ton of crazy MSN conversations resulting from that one photo. You are crack in human form, and I hope you like this! And um, also dedicated to all of you who are in on the Febreze joke. ;D

___

Love makes you accept any faults in a person.

Except that what Ryeowook has isn't much of a fault, but it does get on Yesung's nerves. He's just - neat. Clean. Tidy. It really isn't a fault, and in fact it's a good thing, considering how he's the one who cleans their bedroom and washes Yesung's dishes after his meals and generally takes charge of the domestic chores Yesung's too clumsy to do.

But it's at times like these that Yesung wishes Ryeowook was an untidy little bastard, because he's really tired, and all he wants to do is cuddle, and the hot flush of pleasure hasn't even left his body yet when Ryeowook wriggles out of his arms with a squawk and climbs to his feet.

"Ryeowook," he says, propping himself up on one elbow, his voice husky and raw from tiredness. "Come on. Come sleep."

"No," Ryeowook replies tersely, wiping himself down with wet tissues, tossing the soiled paper into the trash basket and hurrying, still stark naked, to the window. "Get up, hyung, we need to clean up."

Yesung groans, rolls over onto his front, burying his face in the pillows. "I don't want to move. Can you just come back here?"

"No," Ryeowook says, his voice tinged with disgust. "How can you sleep when we're all sticky and gross?" He pushes the window open a couple of inches - Yesung hears the squeak of the hinge, and lifts his head in time to see Ryeowook hurrying back, sweeping items off their dresser at the same time.

"Oh, Ryeowook, for God's sake - " Yesung says as he sees the familiar pink bottle of Febreze in Ryeowook's hands, but Ryeowook just scowls at him and aims the nozzle squarely at their bed.

At him, in the bed.

Yesung barely has time to yelp before Ryeowook's spraying frantically at the sheets, the pillows, the blankets tangled between Yesung's legs, at Yesung's naked body. He shuts his eyes in resignation as the cool mist of liquid fabric freshener lands on his chest and stomach, the strong smell of lavender assaulting him, and wonders why, out of a total of 11 people he could have fallen in love with, he'd chosen Ryeowook.

"Okay, get off now, I need to make the bed," Ryeowook's voice cuts through his thoughts, and he whines at him without opening his eyes, spreading his arms wide and reaching out towards him.

"No, let's just sleep, okay? Stop doing this each time, just - for fuck's sake - lie down with me and let me sleep for once after we fuck, okay? Instead of moving me all over the room?"

"No!" Ryeowook yells, panic evident in his voice. "No, hyung, that's so gross, I need to clean up and everything! Now get up - get up, hyung, move, let me straighten the sheets - "

Grumbling and muttering, Yesung allows Ryeowook to pull him upright before he shuffles off to his own bed on the opposite side of the room, the one they never use. He plops down dejectedly onto it, stares at Ryeowook as he sprays Febreze on the area Yesung was occupying earlier, wondering why on earth Ryeowook even bothers if they're going to tumble back onto it and mess it up in their sleep anyway.

Then he starts noticing how Ryeowook looks when he's bent over their low bed, delicate hands sweeping over the white sheets and smoothing out the wrinkles, plump little butt in the air and muscles in his thighs straining as he leans further forward, tucking in the corners where he himself had pulled the bedsheet out earlier as he came into Yesung's hand, and Yesung is reminded of the many other things Ryeowook can be doing besides cleaning.

He gets up once more and walks silently towards Ryeowook, who's still naked and bent over, and startles him with a playful smack before he winds his arms around his waist and presses into his back so hard that Ryeowook loses his balance and falls, with a squeak, into the bed that he'd just Febreze-d and straightened. Yesung falls right on top of him, pinning him down, making sure that Ryeowook can feel him growing hard again and pressing insistently into the back of his thigh.

"Hyung, what are you - hyung - the bed!" is all Ryeowook manages to get out before Yesung silences him with a hungry kiss, and soon his protests melt into quiet little moans as Yesung smirks in triumph against his neck.

But when they finish, Ryeowook tries to wriggle out of his arms yet again, crying about how the bed is so messy and they are so dirty and oh god he needs to clean before they can sleep -

"I can go again, you know," Yesung says lazily. "Want to see how many times I can keep this up?"

Ryeowook frowns at him, and there's a few seconds of silence as Yesung contemplates if his threat is enough, and if it isn't, well fuck his life, because he has schedules the next day, he wants to sleep, and can he even get it up again when his head's swimming with exhaustion?

Then Ryeowook snuggles back into his arms with a tiny sigh and a soft "You're cleaning up tomorrow morning, hyung", and Yesung wants to laugh, but he's already falling asleep, Ryeowook warm and soft and sweet-smelling in his arms, despite the sheen of perspiration covering him.

Well, sweeter-smelling than the damned lavender Febreze, any day.

my world stops with you

thundersquall — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 09:24:06 GMT

title: my world stops with you
pairing: yesung/ryeowook
rating: PG-13
word count: 993
summary: when yesung falls, he falls hard. cheesy fluff.
A/N: hoyah started me off by writing the first paragraph. Thank you so much, muse!

___

the day yehsung meets ryeowook, his world stops. unfortunately, he doesn't, and so trips over a crack in the ground and goes flying into the chorus group's advertising table. ryeowook is the one to help him up, smiling politely but obviously upset about the mess of flyers all around him.

"i-i'm sorry," yehsung stutters, dropping his bag and chasing after a few leaflets flying away in the wind.

he drops into a crouch, attempts to pick up the leaflets that are scattered among the forest of legs at ryeowook's table, but a gust of wind blows across them and sends the leaflets flying - some smack into yesung's face, and for a moment he splutters, hands scrabbling at his face as he tries to peel the papers away.

"here," he hears a soft musical voice next to him, "let me help you."

then a pair of small hands are on his and pulling them away, sweeping the paper clean off his face, and when yesung looks up he blinks, because he thinks he's blinded by the radiance of ryeowook's face. then he realises, with a dull flush, that it's just the sun, shining behind ryeowook and straight into his eyes, but it doesn't diminish the brightness of ryeowook's smile in any way.

that's how they meet, but it isn't how they become friends. though then would have been a good time to strike up conversation, yehsung's brain goes into panic mode when he realizes he's staring. he makes an excuse about being late to class, a promise to make it up to ryeowook one day, and hurries off, barely managing avoid running into another student on his way back. it takes him a good five minutes of walking to realize he's gone back in the direction he came from.

___

they become friends only when siwon introduces ryeowook to him one day as one of his lecture group mates. they share a class, maybe it was chemistry or mandarin or biology, yesung isn't too sure, and forgets anyway when ryeowook smiles shyly at him, just like he did the other day.

even so, it takes about 2 weeks of constant prodding from siwon before yesung finally plucks up the courage to ask ryeowook out for a bite and a movie, stuttering and stammering all the way while siwon snickers at him from the next bench.

it turns out he doesn't need to worry though, because ryeowook smiles up at him and says "yes" even before he's finished speaking, and yesung feels as if his heart's going to burst with the way ryeowook ducks his head down and begins twisting his fingers together, the tips of his ears tinted pink. then it occurs to yesung that maybe, he isn't the only one nervous here.

___

yesung wants to kiss ryeowook. he really, really does, wants to press his lips against ryeowook's and feel them on his, rosepetal soft and sugary sweet, maybe tasting of the soda he'd had in the cafe before they headed to the movie. but he can't, so he contents himself with staring at ryeowook in the darkness of the theatre, watching as he pouts and laughs, smiling at the way his eyes sparkle, finds himself captivated by the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. and of course, those pretty lips.

he's staring so much, he doesn't even realise it when ryeowook inches a hand across to him and slides it over his, and by the time he becomes aware of a warm pressure on his hand, ryeowook's already holding him, palm pressed to palm and fingers interlinked.

his breath catches for a moment before he squeezes back, seeing ryeowook's mouth curve upwards into a sweet smile, and thinks about how ryeowook always makes his world stop moving.

___

the day he finally kisses ryeowook, it isn't in a movie theatre, in a secluded part of school, or even at one of their homes. it's in front of almost the whole school, when he's playing football against a team from another school, and scores a spectacular goal against them.

he runs towards ryeowook, who's sitting passively on the front row of the bleachers, and ryeowook rises to his feet as he sees yesung speeding towards him, his smile as bright as it was the first day he made yesung's world stop, and yesung grabs him and pulls him to his chest and kisses him, until everything - the noise, the screams, the people - around him fades into soft indistinguishable blurs and muted whispers.

kangin and siwon have to peel him off ryeowook and remind him that he's in public. ryeowook looks stunned for a moment, then drags the back of his hand across his mouth before staring at it as if he can't quite believe what just happened. yesung freezes, wondering if he's scared ryeowook off, or if ryeowook's angry, or -

then ryeowook reaches out and curls his fingers into the front of his muddy, sweaty jersey and pulls him into another kiss so hard that their teeth knock together, and the screaming that was originally for his goal turns into catcalls and wolf whistles, and siwon's yelling at him to get back onto the field, but yesung's too dazed with happiness to care.

___

ryeowook's lips taste like strawberries. ryeowook's skin tastes like vanilla. ryeowook's moans taste like caramel, warm and smooth and velvety, and it makes yesung want more, more, more.

___

"i love you," ryeowook whispers to him, breath ghosting over his neck. "i love you."

"i love you too," yesung whispers back to him, fingers dancing on ryeowook's abdomen, his sides, his spine.

and then the world stops moving, and there's nothing else but the two of them, pressed skin to skin, warmth on warmth, and yesung thinks, yes, he's fallen so hard, and he likes it, he loves it, he doesn't want to stop falling, and he doesn't want his world to start moving again, ever.

Of Altar Boys and Clerical Robes

thundersquall — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 12:52:59 GMT

Title: Of Altar Boys and Clerical Robes
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 4,051
Summary: Ryeowook is a new altar boy at the church. Jongwoon is the priest who's supposed to train him. hyperballad is entirely to blame for this.

hyperballad: I'm putting a fic bug in your ear and you -really- want to write priest!yesung fic. Really kinky priest!yesung fic. YOU KNOW HE WOULD LOOK HOT.
thundersquall: W-What. What. WHY YOU DO THIS TO ME.
hyperballad: Because I'm craving delicious priest!yesung. Like a deliciously inappropriate one who may or may not bone altarboy-or-music-director-or-new-priest!ryeowook, of course.
thundersquall: SOBBING WHY DO YOU DOOOOOOO THIIIIIIIIIIIIS.

___

Ryeowook’s nervous, and it shows while the priest is talking to him, listing out the duties he’ll have to carry out as the church’s newest altar boy. His palms are sweaty and he’s scuffing the toes of his shoes nervously against his chair legs, but he can’t help it. It’s not because it’s his first day here. It’s got nothing to do with the high expectations his parents have of him, serving in the Church for the first time ever. It’s not even because the duties sound more like those for a cleaning boy than an altar boy.

No, it’s just because he swears up and down, on his soul, that this priest has been looking at him oddly ever since he’d stepped into his office, tucked away in a small building just behind the main church. And it’s not a ‘I’m watching you, new kid, you better not mess up’ kind of look, it’s a ‘You look tasty. Can I try?’ sort of look.

Not that Ryeowook has any experience in assessing the way people look at him, but he’s quite sure that his neck and legs aren’t places people should be staring at a lot. Especially not a priest. It doesn’t help that the priest is young and good-looking with dark eyes and tanned skin and a warm smile. He’s dressed decorously, as befits a priest, in a simple black shirt with his white clerical collar and jeans, but Ryeowook can clearly see the hint of muscles in his arms, under the thin shirt. It makes him even more anxious, though he doesn’t know why.

The priest (Jongwoon, Ryeowook’s mind helpfully supplies, Father Jongwoon) finishes his list of instructions and uncrosses his legs gracefully before standing up; Ryeowook does the same, though he trips a little in his haste and nervousness as he rises to his feet, tipping forward with a small yelp before the priest catches him by the waist and steadies him.

“Are you okay?” he asks Ryeowook, a small smile playing about his lips, and Ryeowook blushes and nods, biting his lip as he looks down. He doesn’t miss how the priest’s hands linger on his waist and slide down slowly to his hips, and before he takes his hands away Ryeowook is certain that the priest has just brushed against the seat of his jeans. It makes him blush hotter, but he swallows his embarrassment, because how can a priest mean to do such things?

“We’ll need to fit you with robes,” Father Jongwoon says, eyes raking over him again, this time lingering on the curve of his hip; Ryeowook shifts uneasily, and the priest snaps his eyes up and smiles at him. “Your altar boy robes.”

“I – I thought I wouldn’t need them until I’ve finished my training,” Ryeowook says meekly, still keeping his head bowed. He remembers his parents’ admonishments, the things they've been telling him throughout the 16 years of his life - listen to the priests at all times, obey them if you want to grow up to be good men like them, follow orders, don’t let us down - and it makes him feel jittery to be talking back to Father Jongwoon.

“Oh, it’s just fittings for now, we just need to take your measurements first,” Father Jongwoon says smoothly, showing no sign of anger, and Ryeowook relaxes. “Come along, we’ll get this done fast.”

Ryeowook nods and follows the priest as he leads him towards the back of the office, flinging open the door to a small musty windowless storeroom. The moment Ryeowook steps in, he closes the door behind them, plunging them into darkness, before snapping a switch on and a single dim lightbulb, dangling from the ceiling, lights up.

He stands by the door uncertainly, looking around. The room’s filled with shelves, a bare wooden desk and a chair against one wall, and robes are hung neatly in rows on garment hangers lining the walls. He recognizes the priests’ robes – purple cassocks for the Lenten season, green for Advent, white for everyday wear – and then the altar boys’ robes, following the same colours. Father Jongwoon picks one set out and hands it to him before folding himself into the chair, shifting it around so he’s facing Ryeowook.

“Try it on,” he says, and Ryeowook nearly drops the robes.

“H-here?” he squeaks, hands trembling, and Father Jongwoon merely lifts a hand to pull idly at his clerical collar, a little square of white at his throat against the black of his shirt.

“Of course,” he says, and his voice is smooth but low. “I told you, Ryeowook, you have to try the robes on until we find one that fits you, don’t we?”

“But – “

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ryeowook.” His name comes out soft and gravelly, and Ryeowook watches as Father Jongwoon strokes the clerical collar with his thumb almost absent-mindedly. He tries to relax, because he’s right, Father Jongwoon is a priest, he can’t be wanting to do anything to Ryeowook, because it would be wrong.

He pulls his shirt over his head, but slowly, because he’s still a little unsure, and places it neatly on the floor next to him, as he’s been taught to do at home. He undoes the button of his jeans next, and this time Father Jongwoon shifts in his chair, and his breathing gets just the smallest bit heavier, but unnaturally loud still in the quiet, enclosed little room.

“Go on,” he orders, and Ryeowook hesitates before he turns around with his back to Father Jongwoon, feeling much too embarrassed to look at him, and pulls his jeans down. He’s quite sure he hears the priest’s breath hitch, and he’s also growing more sure by the second that something isn’t quite right, but he tries to forget about that and thinks about what he’s been taught by his family as he was growing up – priests are good men, God’s men, and they would never do anything bad or wrong to Ryeowook.

So he steps out of his jeans and pulls the pristine white robes over his head; it takes him a while, because he’s shaking, but he finally gets it over his head. The stiff white fabric falls only to mid-calf, and Ryeowook smoothes the wrinkles out at his chest as he turns back around to face Father Jongwoon.

“It’s a little small,” he begins, looking down at himself, because the material is clinging tightly to him, and he remembers quite distinctly that altar boys’ robes are supposed to be floor-skimming and loose-fitting. “Father, I think I’ll need a larger - oh!”

He jumps, because suddenly Father Jongwoon is right in front of him, hands on his shoulders and pushing him into the door, and Ryeowook’s utterly confused; he brings his hands up instinctively in front of his face, but the priest tugs them aside roughly, fingers closing around his thin wrists.

“No,” he breathes, and Ryeowook feels a shiver go down his spine at the way the word rolls from his mouth, low and dark and husky. “No, I think I like you like this.”

“F-father?” Ryeowook manages. “Father Jongwoon, I – “

Father Jongwoon only grins, and Ryeowook isn’t sure if he ought to be horrified or fascinated by the way his full lips curve up as his tongue darts out to wet those lips. “I like you calling me that, too,” he says, and before Ryeowook can respond the other man’s mouth is on his, tongue forcing his lips apart, and Ryeowook’s too stunned to resist as his arms are pulled up by the wrists and held against the door.

Ryeowook can only manage a strangled gasp as Father Jongwoon’s tongue prods insistently against the tip of his own, exploring hungrily, while he presses the length of his body against Ryeowook’s so Ryeowook can feel every dip and bump, feel his body heat blazing against him, and he can’t help but let out a little whimper. Father Jongwoon kisses him harder, growing hungrier and more insistent, but when Ryeowook involuntarily swipes his tongue across Father Jongwoon’s he lets out a deep groan that goes straight through Ryeowook. He moves from his lips to his chin, sliding over his skin gently, and encourages Ryeowook to throw back his head with a little nudge of his nose against his neck.

Ryeowook chokes out, “Stop, please, Father”, but he turns his head to the side, and Father Jongwoon immediately swipes his tongue across the exposed area of skin before biting at a little patch and sucking on it, raising a faint purplish mark, eliciting a little gasp from Ryeowook. He pulls back at that, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“I knew it,” he says softly. “Sweet, so sweet. I knew it the moment I saw you, Ryeowook.”

Ryeowook feels his face flaming as the priest’s eyes drop to take in his body in its entirety, outlined in the tight robes he’s wearing, and he just knows that he’s halfway to an erection and Father Jongwoon can see it, despite the confusion and fear swirling in his mind.

“Father,” he says helplessly, twisting, fingers flexing uselessly as his wrists are still clamped against the door. “Father, please, what are you doing?”

“Shhh,” Father Jongwoon says; his eyes are glittery and bright, his lips still glistening with Ryeowook’s saliva, and Ryeowook has to look away because this man is confusing him, making him shake with fear and unexplainable want. He’s never felt this way before, not even with the stolen kisses behind the school with the few girls he’s dated, and once he kissed another boy while their hands wandered guiltily over the planes of each other's bodies, and he’s masturbated before, stroking himself in the dead of night and in the silence of his bedroom, until his parents told him that was wrong, sex was wrong, kissing other boys was wrong, but here is Father Jongwoon, staring at him with naked lust in his eyes, and didn’t his parents also say that priests are always right?

“Father,” he says, wriggling helplessly. “Please, I don’t know what you want, please let me go, Father Jongwoon…”

“I really like it when you call me that,” Father Jongwoon says huskily, stepping forward to run his tongue over Ryeowook’s neck again, just above the line of his collar. “Shhh, calm down, Ryeowook, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to make you feel good. Do you want that, Ryeowook? Do you want to feel good?” As he speaks, he takes one hand away from Ryeowook’s wrist, trailing it down his body until it reaches the now noticeable bulge in the robes and cups it, rubbing the heel of his hand gently against it, and Ryeowook gasps.

“It’s wrong,” he cries, twisting even more, but his movements only serve to rub himself harder against Father Jongwoon’s hand, and before he knows it he’s bucking his hips as that hand twists and turns expertly, the layers of cloth between them maddeningly rough. “Father, it’s wrong, we’re not supposed to – “

“If I say we can, we can,” Father Jongwoon replies, worrying at his throat. “Listen to me, Ryeowook. Don’t you want to be an altar boy and serve me? Serve the church?”

That’s enough to make Ryeowook stop struggling, because yes, he does want to be an altar boy, he’s always wanted to; if he gets rejected for the post because he didn’t listen to a priest’s orders, his parents will kill him and die of shame; and perhaps most importantly, or at least that’s all his mind is filled with right now, Father Jongwoon’s hand and mouth on him feels much too good, much better than anything that he or anyone else has done.

“Good boy,” he hears Father Jongwoon breathe against his skin once he goes passively limp, and the next moment the priest has let go of his other wrist as well and begins pulling at his robes, pushing them up past his waist, bunching them under his arms and ripping his boxers down roughly.

“Oh, fuck,” Father Jongwoon says as he holds himself at arms’ length from Ryeowook and looks down at his naked legs, creamy in the dim light, his cock already glistening with clear drops of precome, and Ryeowook closes his eyes and turns away, his face burning at the curse word falling from Father Jongwoon’s lips and the way Father Jongwoon is looking at his body. “Fuck, Ryeowook, you’re perfect. I knew it.”

He runs his hands over the jut of Ryeowook’s hipbones and slide them down his thighs, and Ryeowook shivers. “Please, Father, please,” he says, though he’s no longer sure what he’s pleading for, more touches, or a complete stop.

“Shhh,” he hears Father Jongwoon say again before something hot and wet and entirely unexpected closes around Ryeowook’s arousal, and Ryeowook’s eyes snap open as he looks down to see the priest on his knees, swallowing his cock.

“Oh god,” he chokes, his knees shaking as he’s taken deeper into that tight hot wetness. “Oh, Father Jongwoon, oh - “

The priest doesn’t waste any time, but begins moving almost the moment he’s taken Ryeowook in all the way, his tongue flicking at sensitive spots Ryeowook’s never known he’s had, and it’s all he can do to tangle his fingers in Father Jongwoon’s hair as he props him up against the door, fingers sinking into his thighs. He’s shaking as Father Jongwoon releases him long enough to lick slow trails down his balls and across the soft skin of his inner thighs before going back to suck on him, and he’s gorgeous as he does it, dark eyes flicking up to lock onto Ryeowook’s flushed face as his cheeks hollow and his tongue swirls around Ryeowook’s cock, each little movement bringing him closer and closer to orgasm.

“Father,” he says, his knees almost buckling as the other man begins bobbing his head faster and faster. “Please, I think I’m going to – stop, please, I can’t – “

Father Jongwoon’s response is to suck in, hard, and Ryeowook can’t hold back; he throws his head back against the door with a painful thud, stars exploding behind his closed eyelids as he comes into the priest’s mouth, feeling it tightening around him as he swallows. He has to bring his hand up to his mouth to muffle his cry, and his head is spinning, because it’s good, so good, nothing he’s experienced has ever come close to this –

Then Father Jongwoon’s on his feet again and kissing Ryeowook roughly, hands gripping the cloth of his robes at his chest, and he hasn’t swallowed everything so Ryeowook can taste himself in his mouth, thick dribbles of fluid that leak out from between their joined lips. Father Jongwoon chases after them, lapping up the trails on his chin as Ryeowook gasps and tries to swallow, his legs still weak and shaking as he clings on to Father Jongwoon’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric and pulling the clerical collar out of alignment.

“Fuck,” Father Jongwoon swears again against his skin, swinging him over to the little wooden desk and hoisting his limp body up on it by his rumpled robes. “Fuck, you’re so hot, Ryeowook, I can’t wait to have all of you.”

‘I – we can’t,” Ryeowook says weakly, even as Father Jongwoon yanks his robes up again, exposing his body once more. “It’s so wrong, Father, we can’t – “

“I told you it’s okay, just listen to me,” Father Jongwoon says breathlessly, struggling out of his jeans with one hand, pulling the desk drawers open with the other and fumbling around until he takes out a small jar of lotion. Ryeowook’s eyes widen, because he knows what he’s planning to do, he’s seen it before in his late-night surreptitious surfing of the Internet, and he shakes his head furiously as Father Jongwoon slathers a thick coating of lotion on his fingers.

“No, don’t,” he says, pushing himself backwards until his back hits the wall; the flimsy desk shakes, and so does the little cross standing on it. “Father, we can’t…”

“You didn’t object just now when I was on my knees,” Father Jongwoon says, grinning wickedly as he advances, looking every inch like a predatory cat, and Ryeowook falls silent. “Don’t object now, Ryeowook. It’ll feel even better, I promise.”

He covers Ryeowook’s mouth with his own just as he slides a slick finger into him, stifling his small cry. Ryeowook’s more surprised than in pain though, and he barely feels anything at first, and then Father Jongwoon adds a second finger and he whimpers a little, the stretch slightly uncomfortable.

“You’re so hot inside, Ryeowook,” the priest whispers in his husky voice against his lips. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you, god.”

Ryeowook tries to say something, but it trails off into a loud hiss of pain as a third finger is slowly added to the ones already inside him, and he bites down on Father Jongwoon’s lip, tears springing to his eyes. “Relax,” the priest orders, fingers working gently and slowly. “Relax, Ryeowook.” But Ryeowook can’t, it burns, and Father Jongwoon kisses his tears away, murmuring soothing words to him, words that mean nothing to Ryeowook because it hurts and –

He gasps right then, an unexpected jolt of pleasure running through his spine and effectively killing off the pain of being stretched open. Father Jongwoon chuckles knowingly down at him, fingers twisting once more, and there it is again – Ryeowook’s back arches right off the desk this time, fingers scratching at Father’s Jongwoon’s shirt, as he pushes his hips downwards, unconsciously pleading for more.

Father Jongwoon obliges, pushing against that spot again and again, until Ryeowook’s crying aloud and rocking himself on his hand, his cock hardening again, tearing frantically at the buttons of his shirt until they pop open and the clerical collar hangs loose, allowing him to lean up and press kisses to Father Jongwoon’s neck and shoulders, making little gasps of pleasure all the while.

“I told you it’d be good,” he says as he pulls his fingers out and laces himself with the lotion, spreading it over his cock as Ryeowook watches blankly, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and cheekbones. He doesn’t even realize it when he spreads his own legs wantonly for him, wrapping one hand around his cock and jerking on it as the priest watches him, eyes darkening with desire.

“Please,” he says, breath coming in needy little gasps. “Please, Father Jongwoon, more, I want more…”

The priest chuckles and reaches out for him, sliding him across the desk. “If you want,” he says, his voice a low rasp, and slides smoothly into Ryeowook; Ryeowook cries out, legs swinging up to wrap around his waist as he bites down into Father Jongwoon’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” he hears him growl above him. “Fuck, you’re so tight, Ryeowook.”

Ryeowook can’t explain how very hot it is to hear his priest swear in that gravelly voice of his, but instead he nips at his neck, rocks his hips back and forth, urging him silently to move and find that spot inside him again that sent colours flashing in his mind. The other man doesn’t need Ryeowook to tell him; he wraps one arm around him and pulls him flush against his chest, the scratchy fabric of Ryeowook’s altar boy robes getting stained with the perspiration trickling down his body, as he pushes in and out of Ryeowook, a gentle, controlled series of shallow thrusts that has Ryeowook whining in pure want for more, faster, deeper, more.

“Say my name,” Ryeowook dimly hears him say through the mix of pleasure-pain in his mind. “I want to hear you scream my name as I’m fucking you.”

“F-father,” Ryeowook manages; Father Jongwoon shifts slightly and takes hold of Ryeowook’s hips, pulling them up before pushing into him again, and this time Ryeowook’s mind blanks out for one delicious second as he gets it there, right there, his fingers clawing faint red trails down Father Jongwoon’s arms.

“Name, Ryeowook,” he growls, bending low to nip at his neck. “Say my name.”

“I – I can’t,” Ryeowook groans. “Please, just – I can’t – “

“Say it!” He punctuates his words with a quick snap of his hips forward, and Ryeowook wails, legs pressing ineffectually into the small of the priest’s back.

“Jongwoon,” he chokes out, leaning up blindly to kiss him. “Jongwoon, god, please, faster, please – “

“That’s so good, Ryeowook,” Father Jongwoon breathes, and then he’s fucking Ryeowook hard, just the way he wants it, until he can hardly breathe, can hardly feel anything except for Father Jongwoon inside him, above him, Father Jongwoon’s hand around his cock and stroking it, Father Jongwoon’s lips on his neck, his robes tight and thick around his chest and making it difficult for him to breathe.

“Oh god, Jongwoon, Jongwoon,” he moans over and over as Father Jongwoon’s thrusts speed up, becoming faster and harder, pounding into him so hard the entire desk is shaking along with his body; he hears a soft thud as the cross is shaken right off it and falls to the ground, but he can’t care, not when it feels so good, this sensation of being filled so full that his every nerve is flaring white-hot with pleasure. “Jongwoon, more, please, Jongwoon – “

“Come for me, Ryeowook,” Father Jongwoon growls into his ear, and then he’s pulling on Ryeowook’s cock once, twice, slamming into him, and Ryeowook comes just as he’s told to, white fluid splashing out over the priest’s fingers and splattering thickly on the material of his robes, as he cries out in abandonment and sinks his teeth into Father Jongwoon’s shoulder.

“That's it, Ryeowook, you’re so fucking good,” he hears Father Jongwoon groan before he feels him come as well, hot liquid flooding his insides, as he collapses on top of Ryeowook, both of them panting and slick with sweat.

It seems like forever to Ryeowook before Father Jongwoon lifts himself off him, looking down at him; Ryeowook looks away, uncomfortable now, tugging at his soiled robes to pull them back down.

“Why did you do that?” he asks in a small voice, not daring to look up at the priest.

“Why not? We both liked it.”

“It’s wrong,” he says hotly, knowing how stupid and futile it sounds to argue now. “We shouldn’t have done that, Father, it’s wrong, we’ll get into trouble, and I – I – “

He feels tears in his eyes, and he blinks them away, trying not to think of the consequences, and why didn’t he stop him? Why did he let him go on? But he’s shocked when Father Jongwoon starts laughing, scooping up his clothes from the floor and pulling him off the desk so he can lift the stained robes off him.

“I’m not even a priest,” he says, still laughing, and Ryeowook goes still.

“What?”

He shrugs. “I’m just a staff member. But I’m the one in charge of training the altar boys, so the parish priest makes me meet the new ones, and I have to wear the clerical collar when I do it.” He fingers the white strip of cloth dangling from the collar of his open shirt. “It confuses all the new boys, they all think I’m a real priest, but it turns out some of them like it.” His eyes lock on Ryeowook’s. “Like you.”

“You tricked me?” Ryeowook cries.

“Because I wanted you.” Father – no, Jongwoon, just Jongwoon, his eyes are boring into Ryeowook, and Ryeowook hates it that he can make his knees go weak by just looking at him in that way. “I told you, I knew you’d be perfect, once I had you under me, screaming my name.”

Ryeowook flushes and Jongwoon laughs, chucking his chin.

“You enjoyed it, Ryeowook,” Jongwoon says, and Ryeowook bites down on his lower lip as Jongwoon dresses him up, pulling his jeans back up his legs and his shirt over his head, and Ryeowook still shivers at the brushes of his hands against his bare skin.

“I can always train you more if you want,” Jongwoon says lazily as he pulls on his own jeans and zips himself up, and Ryeowook, drinking in his face and body and remembering how it had felt when Jongwoon was inside him and giving him almost overwhelming pleasure, can’t help but nod.

___

A/N: Okay, I know that normally altar boys start serving very young, like at about 7 years old, but I would shoot myself before I ever write shit like that. Pedos should die in a fucking fire, I don't care. And I also know that altar boys DO wear their normal clothes under their robes, they don't just strip and put the robes on, but allow me to take literary license here for the sake of porn, okay? I also had to make Jongwoon a fake priest, because in all honesty, blasphemy squicks me and freaks the fuck out of me. I can't handle writing him as a real priest. Nevertheless, hyperballad, I hope you had fun tempting me. =D

Also, thank you so much terra_forensis, for all the love and support while this was killing my brain!