binkikitty (binkikitty) wrote in bamsedorok,

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These are the two that Sophia wrote back when I wanted to write that hookerverse fic. I deleted that post but I didn't want you to lose what you wrote, so I'm putting them here for now. If you want me to take them down or whatever, just let me know.

sungmin sits next to him on the couch, each holding mugs of steaming hot chocolate under their noses. the fire is red, the room is dark, and they enjoy this quiet. it feels good, the warmth of their arms against each other, and the soft lull of their breathing.

"i kind of like this," sungmin sighs into his cup, takes a sip, his teeth as white as the porcelain of his cup. heechul looks over at him, seems to stiffen and sets his cup on the small coffee table under their feet, and twirls the shared blanket out of sungmin's lap. he frowns. "heechul-hyung."

"get out."

"hyung," sungmin tries to reason, sets his own cup down and places his hands on the edge of the blanket, pulls. "i didn't mean it that way. you know that."

heechul's head snaps to him, his eyes are wide and threatening, predatory. sungmin doesn't move, stares past his pupils. "you will not be like me. you aren't like me at all," heechul growls under his breath, sungmin watches his tongue.

"don't," heechul presses his cold fingers to sungmin's neck, dips them into his skin but doesn't mean any harm, yet. "don't even try to tell me you don't mean it. this is easy, i know it's easier to accept, i know it's hard to live in a way you hate. but you have to hate it." his fingers surround and capture, he leans in. "hate it, sungmin."

he presses his lips to the corner of sungmin's and the fire cracks violently. sungmin watches the ember die on the creamy carpet, can't breathe, eyes water. "hate," heechul slurs onto his lips, presses him into the couch, "it."

sungmin doesn't want to move and heechul is on top of him.


heechul watches the dark hair from across the table under his eyelashes as he picks at the dirt underneath his fingernails that isn't there. shiwon is alert, ready for action, running, killing, fighting, bitter words resting on his tongue as his first line of defense. heechul can breathe the tense, he can see the threat looming over bald heads, safely tucked into black jackets, sitting metal cold in socks, pressed firmly between pants and premier linen, buried into deep pockets.

everything is so forced that heechul shivers occasionally. terse words always hold deeper meaning to his ears and sometimes it hurts, goes right into his ears and floats to the back of his forehead or the very center of his heart.

shiwon rubs his hand and heechul smiles, knows it's alright to excuse himself, and nearly trips on his way out the door. it doesn't look like, it doesn't feel like it, but his heart is what trips, almost spills past his lips in vomit before he can even close the door. he takes his time to the bathroom and only wets his cheeks and forehead where it wouldn't matter if his make up soaked up into the luxurious towels.

he sees sharp black leaning against the door, arms folded gently and shoes shining in the light. heechul smiles, stands in front of him. his head lifts slightly, let me in he motions, but there's no movement. just a teasing smile.

heechul waits for it and it comes, predictably, as an outstretched arm. fingers slide over his cheeks, touch his hair, and then drift to his lips. this time, heechul remains still, watches the man's dark eyes follow the motion of his fingertips. when he's done, he laughs, heechul doesn't mind.

"you don't want to be here very much." the voice is low and heechul tilts his head gently to the side and starts looking at his fingernails again, pretending to be disinterested. "or do you have to like it?"

heechul merely smiles, "what's the difference?" and brushes past him, his hand slides down the man's body after he opens the door as a thank you, and forgets to stare underneath his eyelashes the rest of the meeting. shiwon notices, ignores the exchanged interest with a possessive hand on heechul's and a thing smile on his lips because he knows there's no way heechul would ever be someone's but his.

however, that doesn't stop a "yesung" delicately penned onto a piece of thick paper in his pocket, embroidered in gold, the name kim jongwoon in the very center, from being slipped into his pocket.
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