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writetomyheart2015-06-09 10:21 pm
lotusk) wrote in writetomyheart2015-06-09 10:21 pm
Entry tags:
team five: too pink to handle
Canon fic where Jongin can’t keep his hands off Joonmyun on national television. Also Jongin’s lips and hair are too pink for Joonmyun to deal with. Inspired by this sukai moment
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goodbyelover
The green strobe lights are distracting as they swirl around the room at dizzying speeds, but the obnoxious lights are the least of Joonmyun's worries. Hot breath is licking at his nape and his ears and Joonmyun has to concentrate extra hard to catch what MC Kibum is saying. There’s a line of EXO members standing between his SHINee sunbae and him and Sehun and Baekhyun are talking too and there's so much noise and the camera lights are intense and hot and the fans are roaring in the background. There's so much stimuli pressing in on him but the only thing Joonmyun can process is how close Jongin is to him—his fingers making light touches on his waist and hips, hands gripping his shoulders gently and sometimes not so gently. There's so much of everything but all Joonmyun sees and hears and feels is Jongin. "Stop it," he hisses as his palm blankets the mic. "What?" Jongin says innocently as his chest brushes up against his back, lips almost touching his nape. And something else, there's something else brushing up against Joonmyun's spine and it's hard and it's making his knees feel weak, but he has to smile for the cameras and act as if the only thing on his mind is their Love Me Right comeback. "You can't do that here. Dammit Jongin, everyone's watching," Joonmyun knows he sounds desperate but that's because he is. "But hyung," Jongin says softly; and then he does the unspeakable and pats his ass—not just once but nine times in succession and it's in plain view of his cameras and Joonmyun is going to give him a huge, long lecture about dumb risky behaviour in public. At least. . .he's going to give him a lecture after he fucks him—preferably against a wall or maybe bent over a sink and too late, he feels his cock begin to harden. "Shit," Joonmyun swears and his knuckles are clenched white around the mic as Jongin's long fingers graze his waist again and spread out leisurely as they strum his hip. "What do you think about Kai's new hair color, Suho?" Kibum asked. "Ahhh, Kai's hair..." he rifles through his head for memorized responses and finally locates the answer he's looking for, "it's pretty isn't it? It symbolizes the energy and vigor of youth and the spirit of rebellion. Don't you think it looks perfect on Kai?" Joonmyun recites the prepared answer dutifully, his face wreathed in smiles. But in his head, all he can think of is how soft the pink hair had felt between his fingers this morning, as he'd sat on Jongin's lap, rocking into him gently, the pale sunshine warm against his skin as it poured in through the cracks in the curtains. The mauve pink had looked so vibrant and alive against his translucent skin as he ran his hands over and over Jongin's scalp. They'd exchanged hungry kisses and let out husky moans with each deep, hard thrust Jongin had made. And when Jongin had moved inside him that last time and they'd— His cock is stirring again and Joonmyun has to slam the brakes and shove all that carnal memory safely out of sight. Desperate to not embarrass himself on national television, Joonmyun holds the autographed, repackaged album in front of his crotch so he he can buy some time as he brings himself under control. He looks around for some distraction and finally focuses all his attention on MC Kibum's black socks because there is nothing more un-sexy than seeing a grown man wear black socks with dress shorts. Those socks could possibly be even more of an eyesore than the dumb bowl haircut they've given Joonmyun for the comeback stage. "So you think my hair is pretty?" Jongin leans his left arm on Joonmyun's shoulders and curls his fingers around his right shoulder before whispering the question—his lips almost touching Joonmyun's earlobe as his chest presses up against Joonmyun's back. It's enough to send frissons of pleasure down his chest and spine, leaving his nipples erect and expectant. Joonmyun doesn't know how he'll get through the next hour, but one thing's for certain, he is going to kill Jongin when he finally gets him alone (well, after he fucks him). "I already told you it was pretty this morning," he hissed. "You mean after we came?" Jongin's voice is soft, oh so soft as it forms the provocative words. "Stop." Jongin's only answer to that is to wrap his hands around his shoulders before letting them trail down his back to settle on his hips. I am going to kill him dead, Joonmyun seethed as he glared holes in Kibum's fugly, ink colored socks. As soon as Jongin shuts the bedroom door, Joonmyun whips around and traps him against the wall, his hand hitting the wall with a loud slap. "Hyung?" They're still wearing their stage make-up and Jongin's lips are unbearably pink—a candy floss kind of pink that's been driving Joonmyun insane for hours. "You—" is all he manages to get out before he gives in to need and crushes his mouth to Jongin's—apricot pink against candy floss pink. Their breaths mingle, hot and humid, and it's a rush to the head and to the groin as their tongues tangle and hands roam over heated skin. "You can't do that anymore, you can’t touch me like that outside this room. If management finds out, they won’t let us share a room anymore—" "You shouldn't have worn all black then," Jongin says unrepentantly as he nibbles at Joonmyun's jaw. "And you especially shouldn't have worn these," Jongin complains as he snaps at the black and white Moschino suspenders, "I've been wanting to pull them off all night." "That's not allowed." "Then don't tempt me with them where we can't do anything about it," Jongin breathes into his ear, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of his ear—making the delicate skin tingle in ways that make Joonmyun groan. The red, white and black stripes on Jongin's round-necked tee swim and blur into one as Joonmyun steps closer—his fingers reaching for the skinny gingham bandana the stylist noona had tied around Jongin's neck. It reminds him of a ribbon one would tie around a gift. And to him, that's exactly what Jongin is. . .a gift. The most perfect gift. "This. . .thing has been torturing me all night," Joonmyun says quietly as he unknots the rolled up red-white fabric hanging from Jongin's neck. For a second, it feels a lot like he's unwrapping him even though Jongin is still fully dressed, and the younger man inhales sharply as Joonmyun's fingers brush against his collarbones. "Well, these things have been taunting me all night," Jongin complains as his fingers slip beneath the elasticated suspenders, gain purchase and slide them slowly off Joonmyun's shoulders. Then he's undoing the buttons on Joonmyun's black shirt one by one, and when he's got three of them undone, he sticks his hand beneath the gaping fabric and slides his palm over a soft, pale pink nipple—leaving it stiff and wanting. "Jongin, don't," "Don't touch you?" Jongin's mouth is hot and wet and insistent against his skin. "Don't stop. . .I meant don't st—" and he gasps as candy floss pink lips surround his nipple—pulling and sucking at it. And Jongin's hands. . .his hands are releasing buttons and roaming over his touch-deprived skin, traveling over his ribs, hips, spine. Not one to be left behind, he has Jongin's t-shirt off in seconds and there's nothing in front of him but miles and miles of beautiful tawny skin. As soon as Jongin's divested him of his shirt, Joonmyun starts pulling down the zipper on Jongin's fly. His breath hitches as his hand reaches in—cupping and pressing on Jongin's cock at the same moment he latches on to a coffee-colored nipple. As Jongin's husky moans fill his ears, and his tongue swirls around dark aureole, Joonmyun wonders if apricot pink looks pretty against coffee. "Hyung," Jongin groans as he bucks against his hand, his long slender fingers plucking at the waistband of Joonmyun's jeans—jeans that are beginning to feel too fucking tight. Joonmyun licks into Jongin's pink, pink mouth—and Jongin's tongue wraps around his at the same moment Joonmyun's hand slips beneath tight fabric and wraps around Jongin's hot, hard flesh. Oh God, they moan into each other's mouths, hips gravitating closer and clothed erections brushing against each other. Joonmyun's cock is straining against restrictive denim and he almost sighs in relief as Jongin lowers the zipper and releases him. But the relief lasts for only a few seconds because Jongin’s fingers around his cock feels so intense his knees almost buckle. Fitting denim and thin, loose cotton slide down his thighs and calves as Jongin peels them off him with one hand while the other maintains its tight, sensual hold on Joonmyun—moving in strong, rhythmic strokes. Somewhere along the way, Jongin loses his pants too, so when Joonmyun steps forward, it’s just them—warm skin sliding across warm skin. “Do you know how much I wanted to do this when we were at the studio?” Jongin’s voice is husky as his left hand caresses Joonmyun’s hips—with featherlight motions that graduate into firmer touches. “But you did do it, you brat. In front of all the cameras! And you gave me a boner, you asshole! You're lucky I had that signed album with me. Imagine all the fan site photographs floating around Twitter with the caption Su!boner or Joon!boner. It would have been fucking embarrassing, Jongin,” he glared. “But that doesn’t count,” Jongin grins as he lets go of Joonmyun's cock and grabs hold of his ass, “that doesn't count because we had all our clothes on and we couldn’t do anything about it.” Hands curved possessively over Joonmyun's ass, Jongin pulls him in so they're close, so close—their bare chests and cocks touching. The coiled heat in his groin grows and spreads and builds and he knows this isn't going to be enough for him. He needs to be even closer to Jongin, he needs to bury himself inside him—to feel his tight heat surrounding him. He needs so much but he makes himself rein in his desire so he can regain some sense of control, at least a little bit. "You're in so much trouble," Joonmyun scolds Jongin in an attempt to choke back his need and Jongin tells him how hot he looks when he's pretending to be angry. "I'm not pretending! I am angry." "Show me," Jongin invites cheekily. Most of the candy floss pink has been kissed off and there are traces of apricot on his kiss-swollen mouth. He looks. . .ruined and Joonmyun wonders if he looks equally ruined and wonders whether his own lips are smudged with candy floss pink. All the different shades of pink, but the prettiest is still Jongin's natural lip color. The deep plummy pink is warm and enticing and Joonmyun just wants to drown in it. Fuck being in control, he decides in the end as he groans and surrenders to Jongin's mouth. Joonmyun's so caught up in the things Jongin's doing with his tongue and beneath him. When had they even moved away from the door? "How did we end up h—" Joonmyun tries to ask but he runs out of words when his cock is covered in hot, wet heat. He looks down to see pink hair cascading down Jongin's forehead as his mouth moves over his cock—devastating Joonmyun with each slow, downward-upward slide. "Oh," he breathes as he combs through the fine strands and they flow like watery pink silk over his fingers. It’s so intimate and erotic watching Jongin bent over him, his erection pressing against Joonmyun's thigh as he sucks and pulls at his cock. Gripped by pleasure, Joonmyun can’t help throwing his head back in abandon as the sensations ripple through his body with blinding intensity. Impatient to touch Jongin, he reaches for his nipples and tweaks them; he knows how much Jongin enjoys that and it's thrilling when the other man’s cock twitches against his leg. But it’s too far away. . .Jongin’s cock is too far away and even though his mouth is doing all the wicked things to Joonmyun and he doesn’t really want him to stop, he needs more of Jongin. And he tells him, in between moans of ecstasy, that he wants to be inside him. . .that he needs it like air. There's a dusky pink tinge to Jongin's dark nipples that Joonmyun has always found beautiful—from the time they were trainees, from when they were too young to think of such things to when they were just old enough to think of such things and act upon them. So pretty, he whispers as he reaches up to lick at edges of nipple and slip his mouth over hardened nub. His hand is tugging insistently at Jongin's cock as the younger man rides him deep and fast. Jongin’s shoulders are so broad as they move above him, his stomach taut as Joonmyun trails his fingers over the flat planes of it. Balancing his weight on his heels, he raises his hips so he can thrust harder into Jongin and he’s so incredibly tight around him—so tight that Joonmyun is really struggling for control now. He's drunk on the beauty of Jongin's smooth, caramel skin and high on the tingling in his cock and groin—the sensations getting more and more intense as Jongin's body undulates sinuously over his. "I’m almost th—" Jongin moans as Joonmyun's hand moves over his cock in quick, firm strokes. His teeth are skating over Jongin's earlobe when he hears the drawn out moan and feels the jerking of hips and the spilling of liquid warmth over his belly. All it takes is two more thrusts and Joonmyun is drowning in exquisite release—waves and waves of ecstasy crashing against him as he orgasms. "You're so beautiful, Jongin,” Joonmyun says later as Jongin collapses bonelessly on his chest, panting. Damp strands of pretty pink hair cling to his forehead and Joonmyun brushes them aside with gentle fingers. Unexpectedly, Jongin’s lips kiss the heel of his palm and a tenderness fills his chest—a tenderness he isn’t ready to reveal to Jongin. “You’re beautiful too, hyung, but. . .this dumb haircut has got to go. And,” Jongin says as he reaches up to kiss him, “I think pink hair would look really pretty on you. Maybe after you finish with this drama you could convince coordinoona to let you go pink?” “Pink? On me?” Joonmyun eyes him skeptically. “Yes! Pink on you,” Jongin chuckles as he gathers Joonmyun into his arms, “but don’t worry, hyung, I love you even if you have fucked up hair right now.” “That’s fucking rude!” Joonmyun laughed, shoving at Jongin’s shoulder. “I know. Goodnight, hyung, I love you.” “We haven’t showered,” Joonmyun protested but it was too late. Jongin’s mouth was pressed against his neck—eyes closed in sleep. Sighing, he stroked mauve pink hair and smiled, I love you too, Jongin. |
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