title: a cup of tea
pairing: yoochun&junsu,
other: none
rating: PG-13
genre: angsty fluff :P
length: one shot; 642 words
warning: unedited; no plot

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a cup of tea
yoochun&junsu
642 words
pg-13

/junsu's pov/

i fill the kettle with water and turn the stove up to high.  i walk back to the leather armchair you left behind and sink into its comforting embrace.  i close my eyes and sink back into...

when i wake up, sometimes everything that surrounds me feels like it's apart of me.  the sheets, the pillow, the comforter, your arm that lies squished under my neck.  maybe it's the temperature that's been calibrated with my own body heat and maybe it's because we've spent a full eight hours together, dead to the world.

you smell like my laundry detergent and aftershave.  even when you don't do anything, the smell stays with you and it's become my personal catnip.  sometimes, when you stay in front of the keyboard, unwashed for days upon end, there's another smell that comes out strong and stays about you like a potent cloud of stagnant essence.

on these days, i take in the bold odor and my own senses drive me crazy.  i can taste it on my tongue and it plugs the insides of my nostrils.  it's on these days that i just can't leave you alone.  my self control is shot and i have no sense of the proper or improper.

you're not unshaven for no reason and when i try to coax you out of the room, you snap and bite.  i go on to pretend that i'm unhurt.  your smell leads me on; you're cunning in that way. 

when i trail my tongue over your ears and your neck, you drag me to the bed.  it's still unkempt like your hair.  the sheets are crumpled and slightly gray from days of neglect.  still, it feels heavenly on my back when you start to plunge into me.  it feels like comfort in my fist when you swirl into me, move inside of me, and leave a little bit of your cloud like a light dusting on top of my bare skin.

sometimes you make my lips dry, you make my throat feel unbearably parched, and still, the only thing i thirst for will be your mouth on mine.  afterwards, you'll go back to your room, finish your song, smile at me elegantly while whispering, "i finished it.  junsu-yah you're incredible."

i don't mind that there are no thank you's or i love you's.  because we're beyond that. 

you make me depressed each time you tell me that each song is a memory of me.  a little piece of our love that you want to keep for the future.  "but yoochun" i say.  "i want every piece of you.  and right now."

you just smile and finally slip into the shower.  that dastardly smile that makes my feet move on their own.  but when i find my legs lifting my body into the stall to be with you,

i can't find a trace of anger.  it's been washed, along with the sheets, along with you and your smelly, smelly cloud of pheromones.

the high shrill of the kettle whistle snaps me out of my reverie.  i'm shocked to find that i've dreamt all that in six and a half minutes.  i shuffle my way to the kitchen only to find a clean mug and a tea bag inside already.

when did i...?

i don't remember preparing all this.  i'm not one to think ahead.  but then a low whistle comes from a room down the hall and the sounds of a keyboard float over the whole apartment.

"he's back" i think and stare blandly down at my unmade tea.  a tear slips out before i can quickly stop it.

i let out a little sigh.  then i take out another bag, another mug.  i pour hot water into both and, with two steaming cups of tea in hand, i make my way over to your room.