grizzling (grizzling) wrote,

moves like jagger

doojoon/dongwoon, i guess it's nc-17 oops

this is what you get when i listen to moves like jagger on a loop. this really messy and bad, but i decided i need to at least try finishing it (bc i started this like last week or smth), so maybe i can unblock :(((( i hope you rmbr how 'satisfaction' goes lol


who the fuck is mick jagger the white letters seem to say, but dongwoon can't be sure since within a second they are replaced by the full view of doojoon's chest and dongwoon's well-developed ability to read goes down the drain as his mouth starts to slightly salivate and a lump in a throat appears out of nowhere.

doojoon tosses the tshirt aside and turns around. dongwoon can count all the vertebras as the rolling stones' ignorant bends down to get himself a cigarette from his bag. he lights it up, takes a long drag and just stands there in front of dongwoon, who is already sprawled on the mattress, longs legs slightly tangled in the messy and stained sheets. (sorry, i didn't have time to clean, didn't think i'll get lucky tonight. smirk, chuckle, smirk.)

he stands there with his jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips; two pelvic bones drawing all of dongwoon's attention. he imagines his thumb slowly tracing the right one while (maybe) his tongue slowly darts out and goes for the left one.

several times in his life dongwoon has been told that it's reckless and indecent to leave bars with your fingers intertwined with the ones belonging to someone you met an hour ago. it becomes even more obscene when the said stranger shoves his tongue inside your (how eager) mouth in the middle of the pub. but, nonetheless, dongwoon breaks the taught rules and stumbles through the streets while his new companion drags him by the hand towards his apartment. when doojoon turns around to say they're only few meters away, dongwoon notices the white letters for the first time, but with his vision blurred he can only distinguish the f word. he chuckles at the irony.

dongwoon wonders for a second if it's actually possible that doojoon really doesn't know who (the fuck) mick jagger is. sure, 60's were far behind them and dongwoon watched a show about ignorant young generation who prefers to bob their head to the thumping beat at the club rather than enjoy the beauty and virtuosity of jimmy page's extreme riffery, or in this case, the one created by keith richards. dongwoon remembers being offended basically throughout whole sixty minutes of the show and for a moment felt like he should rip his led zeppelin poster off the wall and plaster it on his back, so everyone can see he isn't an ignorant and that he knows something more than just stairway to heaven. but maybe now he understands what they meant, maybe doojoon is just a fan of intoxicating beats and songs about grinding (not that he minds it right now). it doesn't really make him think badly of doojoon and after a while he wonders why the fuck is he even pondering over one tshirt which is laying on the floor long-forgotten.

he's just curious. curious about everything that concerns doojoon, because, let's face it, dongwoon is usually a good boy who often snaps at his roommate for coming back home with one-stand guys. but he saw doojoon at the pub, with his hair slightly disheveled, exposed arms and collarbones and pants that perfectly emphasized every curve and muscle and felt the unfamiliar heat spreading all over his body. he remembers gulping and swallowing hard when doojoon drank his beer at one go and his adam's apple bobbed up and down rapidly, dongwoon imagining it doing same thing under different circumstances. doojoon's beer left a bitter taste at the back of his mouth when the newly met guy cornered him next to the bathroom and made dongwoon moan his own name so they can have the whole hi my name is stuff behind them without interrupting doojoon's skillful tongue devouring dongwoon's already plump bottom-lip. maybe during this ten minutes walk to doojoon's apartment, dongwoon might have had some doubts, thinking that he'll hugely regret all of this in the morning, but then doojoon pushed him down on the mattress and few minutes later, after dragging whole life from his cigarette, he hovered over dongwoon; his breath smelling like red marlboros ghosting somewhere near dongwoon's ear.

he decides to try it, because he's extremely curious and he isn't sure if he can concentrate on the fingertips that are now tracing his collarbone if he doesn't get the answer. doojoon is now leaving small pecks along his jawline and dongwoon thinks it's the perfect moment to carry out his little experiment.

"i can't get no satisfaction," he hums or maybe whispers, but he's sure doojoon has heard him, because he smirks against his skin and looks up at dongwoon.

"oh really," he chuckles and his hand slowly finds its way to the front of dongwoon's jeans and starts to palm him in agonizingly low pace. dongwoon opens his mouth and tilts his head and doojoon steals every sound he was about to utter by claiming his lips. "in this case (he gets rid of dongwoon's belt) we need to try (he undoes the button) and try (he unzips dongwoon's pants) and try (his fingers hooking around the belt's loops and tugging the jeans down) and try (his hand slips under the waistband of the boxers and dongwoon can swear he growled louder than mick jagger has ever had in his whole entire life).

dongwoon is sure that there's some new kind of music blasting inside his head, something between the loud thumping from the club and rough riffs, therefore dongwoon is getting best from both genres and that makes him jerk under every touch and nearly howl for doojoon when he presses his body even harder into the mattress. doojoon hits the right spot and dongwoon utters a low groan which is like a bass line and a base on which doojoon builds the rest of the melody, by adding the rhythmical clatter of the nightstand dongwoon's arm is holding onto, his own heavy-breathing and skin against skin sounds, the unbearable friction between them being an additional cymbals-like finishing touch.

dongwoon feels the warmth gathering in the pit of his stomach and it's far more intoxicating that what he felt when he gulped down another shot of vodka that doojoon got for him (probably to make him tipsy or, rather, to tune him up.) finishing number is mind-blowing and loud and makes him left pleading for more.

there's encore afterwards and another one in the morning, dongwoon obviously not regretting any second of what happened. and when he gathers his stuff while doojoon is taking a shower, he notices the tshirt that intrigued him so much. he takes the pack of cigarettes tossed next to it and finds a pen on the nightstand.

call me if you are interested in singing rolling stones again.

two days later dongwoon picks up his phone and hears i can't get no satisfaction sang in a deep voice, followed by familiar chuckle.
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