[ exo : for you in this broken world ]
Jan. 13th, 2015 03:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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kokoronashifor you in this broken world
fandom exo
pairing kaisoo
style one-shot
length 1002
'dystopia' for genprompt bingo. wondering if i should expand this later.
Kisses were a sort of currency in the world they found themselves in. It was the warmth of skin against one another, when breaths were exchanged hot and heavy, when each exchanged tied them down to where they were and became the constant reminder that they were still there.
It was Jongin’s moans and whimpers that urged Kyungsoo on for more. It was the way that Jongin pulled them down, further pressuring the bed that sprang up in resistance to the weight of their bodies.
It was the way Jongin whispered his name right in his ears, followed by a need please that brought Kyungsoo to undress Jongin, slipping off Jongin’s shirt to allow him unrestricted access to shower Jongin’s golden skin with kiss after kiss, each and every one of them hoping to reach Jongin’s heart and remind Jongin that he belonged to him and he belonged here.
And it was Jongin who awoke with an empty bed the morning after.
He found himself frustrated because the bed still smelled like sweat and sex but most of all it still smelled like Kyungsoo and sex with Kyungsoo. But Kyungsoo’s warmth wasn’t there and Jongin was cold, the blanket Kyungsoo had knitted out of mismatched, obnoxiously coloured acrylic yarn didn’t offer him enough warmth for the sunless winter morning.
Still, he knew to keep his selfish thoughts to himself and curled himself into a little ball to keep every little bit of Kyungsoo’s presence that he had left there on his bed to help him last till the morning.
Kyungsoo came home with a paper bag of canned food which he neatly stack on the cabinet. Jongin knew that Kyungsoo hated them, cans, and there were nights where they would lie in bed together and Kyungsoo would tell Jongin about how he missed those dried pasta in plastic bags now, and how he missed tomatoes that may be small and a little bit sour but at least did not come in cans. Yet cans were all they could afford now, or rather, cans were the only thing available for them to buy now in this slum of city they called home.
Jongin let Kyungsoo attend to him after the cans, helping him by draping his arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulder as the smaller man wordlessly lifted him up from his bed. Bathroom, Jongin knew, and he let Kyungsoo drag his legs, limp, boneless things decorated with scars across the apartment’s wooden floor as he carried him to the bathroom.
It wasn’t always like this too. A long time ago, Jongin’s legs were fine and beautiful and it was his legs did Kyungsoo fell for first, watching him dance from below decks for a sleazy theatre where the tip was large but the pay was small and the benefits non-existent.
So Kyungsoo must have hated this version of him too, Jongin felt, although Kyungsoo had never said it.
Once he was done, Kyungsoo lifted him out of the green coloured bath tub and brought him back to the bed that was all his world was made of now.
“You have a customer tonight,” Kyungsoo said, voice soft as he helped Jongin dress in dark blue sweater - again, homemade with the cheapest yarn Kyungsoo could find, although Kyungsoo left Jongin without his trousers as it was difficult to put them on and they were not necessary anyway, especially with blankets covering Jongin’s body on that queen sized bed.
“I’ll help you get ready,” Kyungsoo continued, impassive.
Jongin nodded a thank you and allowed Kyungsoo to trim and brush his hair, grooming him for another man.
The customer of the night was a regular, a man who went by the pseudonym of a Mister K. He wasn’t much of a talker in bed and wasn’t much of a listener, so Mister K was more than enough. Jongin didn’t know much about Mister K except for how well dressed Mister K was and how Mister K paid for him precisely because he didn’t have function of his legs and that, alongside his scars, was a major turn on for Mister K.
Kyungsoo always left as soon as he receive the front payment for the night, but Jongin knew that Kyungsoo was just sitting in front of their flat. He couldn’t watch, it seemed, as another man fuck Jongin.
Jongin didn’t blame him for it. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to watch Kyungsoo have sex with anyone else either.
Although one night, when Kyungsoo came in after the customer paid him the rest of the amount, Jongin could have sworn he saw tears in the corner of Kyungsoo’s eyes.
Perhaps it was the guilt too, Jongin thought, because he knew Kyungsoo and he knew that Kyungsoo was kind inside.
It couldn’t have been easy for him to come to terms with playing pimp for his disabled boyfriend. When Jongin suggested for the first time, Kyungsoo went quiet. Jongin knew the look of his face, in thought, coming up with an objection.
But Kyungsoo was realistic and Kyungsoo knew as well as Jongin that they needed that extra bit of money for food and water.
And Kyungsoo then muttered a defeated and reluctant ‘yes’.
Kyungsoo helped Jongin shower afterwards, and Jongin liked it. Liked how Kyungsoo’s bare hands lather him with soap although he had said that it was alright and he could do it himself.
Jongin liked how when they kissed there as Kyungsoo toweled his hair, it tasted like the mint toothpaste and smelled like a cheap bar of soap.
His night ended with Kyungsoo took him again. Kisses after kisses, tonight more ferocious than the day before.
Mine, mine, mine, Kyungsoo reminded Jongin with each one of them, as if one night with a customer would be enough for Jongin to forget the taste of Kyungsoo’s kiss.
Yours, yours, yours, Jongin reassured anyway, because he would never forget every sensation Kyungsoo offered and how his heart beats fast in his chest for him.
fandom exo
pairing kaisoo
style one-shot
length 1002
'dystopia' for genprompt bingo. wondering if i should expand this later.
Kisses were a sort of currency in the world they found themselves in. It was the warmth of skin against one another, when breaths were exchanged hot and heavy, when each exchanged tied them down to where they were and became the constant reminder that they were still there.
It was Jongin’s moans and whimpers that urged Kyungsoo on for more. It was the way that Jongin pulled them down, further pressuring the bed that sprang up in resistance to the weight of their bodies.
It was the way Jongin whispered his name right in his ears, followed by a need please that brought Kyungsoo to undress Jongin, slipping off Jongin’s shirt to allow him unrestricted access to shower Jongin’s golden skin with kiss after kiss, each and every one of them hoping to reach Jongin’s heart and remind Jongin that he belonged to him and he belonged here.
And it was Jongin who awoke with an empty bed the morning after.
He found himself frustrated because the bed still smelled like sweat and sex but most of all it still smelled like Kyungsoo and sex with Kyungsoo. But Kyungsoo’s warmth wasn’t there and Jongin was cold, the blanket Kyungsoo had knitted out of mismatched, obnoxiously coloured acrylic yarn didn’t offer him enough warmth for the sunless winter morning.
Still, he knew to keep his selfish thoughts to himself and curled himself into a little ball to keep every little bit of Kyungsoo’s presence that he had left there on his bed to help him last till the morning.
Kyungsoo came home with a paper bag of canned food which he neatly stack on the cabinet. Jongin knew that Kyungsoo hated them, cans, and there were nights where they would lie in bed together and Kyungsoo would tell Jongin about how he missed those dried pasta in plastic bags now, and how he missed tomatoes that may be small and a little bit sour but at least did not come in cans. Yet cans were all they could afford now, or rather, cans were the only thing available for them to buy now in this slum of city they called home.
Jongin let Kyungsoo attend to him after the cans, helping him by draping his arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulder as the smaller man wordlessly lifted him up from his bed. Bathroom, Jongin knew, and he let Kyungsoo drag his legs, limp, boneless things decorated with scars across the apartment’s wooden floor as he carried him to the bathroom.
It wasn’t always like this too. A long time ago, Jongin’s legs were fine and beautiful and it was his legs did Kyungsoo fell for first, watching him dance from below decks for a sleazy theatre where the tip was large but the pay was small and the benefits non-existent.
So Kyungsoo must have hated this version of him too, Jongin felt, although Kyungsoo had never said it.
Once he was done, Kyungsoo lifted him out of the green coloured bath tub and brought him back to the bed that was all his world was made of now.
“You have a customer tonight,” Kyungsoo said, voice soft as he helped Jongin dress in dark blue sweater - again, homemade with the cheapest yarn Kyungsoo could find, although Kyungsoo left Jongin without his trousers as it was difficult to put them on and they were not necessary anyway, especially with blankets covering Jongin’s body on that queen sized bed.
“I’ll help you get ready,” Kyungsoo continued, impassive.
Jongin nodded a thank you and allowed Kyungsoo to trim and brush his hair, grooming him for another man.
The customer of the night was a regular, a man who went by the pseudonym of a Mister K. He wasn’t much of a talker in bed and wasn’t much of a listener, so Mister K was more than enough. Jongin didn’t know much about Mister K except for how well dressed Mister K was and how Mister K paid for him precisely because he didn’t have function of his legs and that, alongside his scars, was a major turn on for Mister K.
Kyungsoo always left as soon as he receive the front payment for the night, but Jongin knew that Kyungsoo was just sitting in front of their flat. He couldn’t watch, it seemed, as another man fuck Jongin.
Jongin didn’t blame him for it. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to watch Kyungsoo have sex with anyone else either.
Although one night, when Kyungsoo came in after the customer paid him the rest of the amount, Jongin could have sworn he saw tears in the corner of Kyungsoo’s eyes.
Perhaps it was the guilt too, Jongin thought, because he knew Kyungsoo and he knew that Kyungsoo was kind inside.
It couldn’t have been easy for him to come to terms with playing pimp for his disabled boyfriend. When Jongin suggested for the first time, Kyungsoo went quiet. Jongin knew the look of his face, in thought, coming up with an objection.
But Kyungsoo was realistic and Kyungsoo knew as well as Jongin that they needed that extra bit of money for food and water.
And Kyungsoo then muttered a defeated and reluctant ‘yes’.
Kyungsoo helped Jongin shower afterwards, and Jongin liked it. Liked how Kyungsoo’s bare hands lather him with soap although he had said that it was alright and he could do it himself.
Jongin liked how when they kissed there as Kyungsoo toweled his hair, it tasted like the mint toothpaste and smelled like a cheap bar of soap.
His night ended with Kyungsoo took him again. Kisses after kisses, tonight more ferocious than the day before.
Mine, mine, mine, Kyungsoo reminded Jongin with each one of them, as if one night with a customer would be enough for Jongin to forget the taste of Kyungsoo’s kiss.
Yours, yours, yours, Jongin reassured anyway, because he would never forget every sensation Kyungsoo offered and how his heart beats fast in his chest for him.
