Summary: Kangin wants to know why.
Word count: 1395
A/N: Wrote this for the kpopfickink meme, Idk who it was for, but Annie linked me to the request so maybe it was her? I apologize for the not-so-good smut…I tried!
Makes Me Lose It
He feels like he's been hibernating. Kangin almost wonders if he's been asleep for months when he lifts his head off the sink. Then again, he hasn't been sleeping at all, he realizes, or at least, he might've been awake this entire time. Hazy minds from alcohol make it hard to differentiate dream from reality, especially when thoughts and memories are weighing down his mind. Feels like a pound of lead.
The front door opens, and Kangin listens to the sound of seven men stumbling back in, tired from traveling, tired from performing so often, tired from existing. But he can hear the smiles in everyone's whispered voices. He hears Hankyung shushing his cute little sub-group, telling them that everyone is sleeping.
Hankyung. There's something about this guy, Kangin thinks. There always has been. The whole foreign thing, he's got it working in his favor, that's for sure. It brings in a more mysterious vibe at times. Kangin likes that.
Strange guy. Hankyung.
Kangin hears footsteps, and he stands up, the tiles cold under his bare feet. The sink is hard, really hard underneath his palm when he lifts himself. His beer isn't so cold anymore when he reaches for it. Maybe that's his indicator for how much time has passed. He swings his head towards the direction of the door, and that's when he sees him standing there. Him. He. Hankyung.
"You," Kangin grumbles, it's a greeting. Or it's supposed to be, and Kangin blames it on things his mind can't wrap around. Like why Hankyung fucking vouched for him. Like why Hankyung said what he said, the nice words that Kangin can't seem to fathom in this drunken state. In a sober mind, it would've been easier to comprehend. Maybe he would remember the things he's done in his life that were right.
Hankyung is taking the bottle out of Kangin's hands, and at first he thinks it's because he wants a drink, too. But he hears the sound of glass gently tapping the floor. No gulp. No sip taken.
"Looks like you've had enough for tonight," he says. And Kangin is pretty sure he's heard that right. "Take a break, come on, you should go to sleep."
Hankyung waits, but Kangin doesn't know what to say with his hands out in front of him like this, when he wants to speak so badly. He wants to be eloquent, but that's not his thing. That's Siwon's thing, or Leeteuk's. Hankyung's. Not Kangin's, unfortunately. "Why?" is all he can muster up.
It all makes sense in his own head. The message just needs to get across the language and thought barrier.
"Because I meant it."
Blink. Eyes a little wider, eyes not as clear as they would've been without a couple doses of alcohol, but there's nothing Kangin can do about it at this point.
"You're a good person, Kangin-ah," Hankyung touches his shoulder, there's a smile on his face. A Handsome one, genuine, too. "You are. Everyone has screw-ups."
And that's when Kangin lets it fall, lets himself fall, and he holds Hankyung tight against his chest. His arms are too tight, but Hankyung doesn't blame anything except the after effects of alcohol mixed with emotion. Kangin doesn't notice the way he tries to get more comfortable when he nearly crushes the dancer, and he doesn't notice the squirming when he kisses said dancer, his neck is soft and smooth skin. Undamaged, and pulse racing, Kangin can feel that.
"Kangin-ah—" but he stops. Whatever he was going to say, hands pushing as assertively as possible, dies in his throat. It's moments like these that Hankyung figures Kangin would forget the word 'no' or the meaning of struggling.
"Hyung," he mumbles, lips stumbling their way up past his chin until they reach his lips, and he backs Hankyung up against the bathroom door, successfully closing it without thinking. He's not thinking about how tired Hankyung must be after his escapades in China, nor how his body is turning into a rag doll. Well, the rag doll part changes when Kangin's arm locks around his waist, the other hand sneaking underneath Hankyung's shirt.
Hankyung freezes, lips still under attack, and keeps his eyes open. It's sloppy and rough and not romantic in any way, especially since the way Kangin pulls as his belt and it feels like he's being jerked around. And he kind of is.
It's when Kangin's hand travels a little further south, cupping Hankyung's crotch, that Hankyung isn't so sure what to do anymore. But it's not like he can stop the natural reaction, the body has a mind of its own, and it only takes him a few moments to turn into a mess, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to make any noises when the friction feels so good. He knows he probably shouldn't want more, because Kangin is drunk and who knows if Kangin is even aware of himself.
He lets it slide when Kangin uses his one hand to pry off Hankyung's sweater, but his torso doesn't get exposed much beyond that. Kangin seems to have other motives, as Hankyung figures, seeing how both their belts are undone and Kangin's jeans seem to be slipping on their own. His fingers tug not-so-gently at Hankyung's waistband.
Words of halt stop again in Hankyung's throat, even when his boxers are gone and he's standing feeling more exposed than he'd like to on this night of SJM's return. Kangin suddenly tugs him back into his embrace and sieges the Chinese man's mouth until Hankyung is finding it hard to breathe and why is he so hard?
Kangin's pants and boxers have fallen to his ankles, in pools of clothing no longer to be cared about, and Hankyung has this sneakingly obvious suspicion of what's to come. His body is stiff when Kangin turns him around and presses his face to the wood of the bathroom door. Hankyung has this feeling in his gut that says no, to stop, but he chooses to go against it, he doesn't. He—
There's no warning when Kangin starts to push himself inside, and Hankyung bites down hard on his own lip, fingers curling against the door, nails scraping until his hands are twitching fists. To try and muffle the pain as much as he can. He grunts to relieve screams when Kangin doesn't let up, keeps thrusting and Hankyung waits for his brain to stop feeling like it'll explode any minute. The pain will subside, it has to, he can't stop this, Kangin needs this…
Kangin grips Hankyung's hips, those hips he can recall in his mind doing marvelous things during dance rehearsals and performances, even with the alcohol in his mind he recalls it easily. His fingers press into the flesh underneath as if he's holding on for dear life while he fucks the man in front of him like he's got nothing to lose. In a way, he doesn't, not really. The beer from before prevents him from seeing anything he could lose.
He listens to Hankyung's panting and picks up the pace, one hand finding the other's abandoned erection after some fumbling around. The drunk aspect catching up to him again, midst sex. Hankyung lets out this noise, this noise that's so erotic Kangin throws his head back and tugs languidly at Hankyung's cock in comparison to his own thrusts.
The body in his grasp is so lean, so breakable in appearance that Kangin starts to wonder if he's being to harsh to it, to his hyung, the one that fucking vouched for his goddamn character. But the thought vanishes as he feels himself getting closer, much closer, and Hankyung's own body is shaking and daringly close to release it seems.
He feels a warm, sticky substance gliding into his palm, Hankyung's body clenching as it all happens and Kangin feels him tighten around his own cock and everything lets loose at once. He gives this soft moan before going slack, but he pulls Hankyung back around to face him. Both of them are sweaty, and hot, but Hankyung clings to him like there isn't a single ounce of strength left in him. And Kangin's own body wants to fall to the floor now, with Hankyung against him.
Hankyung shakes his head. "No, stop."
"Don't," he whispers. "Don't be."
Kangin listens to him.
I haven't written smut for such a long time >_<