pg13, kyuhyun/ryeowook, 165
one of my first real attempts at writing suju as anything more than a vague idea (the other's being worked on). for the 15 minute challenge at kpfw.
There's something really, oh, satisfying about being thrown against a wall with long fingers bruising your wrists without a care for who sees the marks. Sometimes you think Kyuhyun does it on purpose just to see who notices, who speaks, who objects, but when his teeth cut into your lip and his thigh forces your legs apart, you stop thinking.
It's not delicate at all, the way he proves his point by how quickly he can yank your jeans open and make you bite your own tongue to keep from waking the others. The edge of his glasses digs into your cheek as he pants in your ear, leaning over you with his cock a hard ridge of heat against your hip and voice a low growl that's never been touched by the light of day.
He's not broken and neither are you, and if you're using each other to prove it to yourselves it's still so much fucking better than yet another love song.
Says to himself
The boy's no good. The boy is just no good.
but he takes you in his arms and pushes your flesh around
to see if you could ever be ugly to him.
You, the now familiar whipping boy, but you're beautiful,
he can feel the dogs licking his heart.
Who gets the whip and who gets the hoops of flame?
He hits you and he hits you and he hits you.
Desire driving his hands right into your body.
Hush, my sweet. These tornadoes are for you.
You wanted to think of yourself as someone who did these kinds of things.
You wanted to be in love
and he happened to get in the way.
excerpt from A Primer for the Small Weird Loves by Richard Siken