[M] Shades (1/1)

[WHITE] White was the colour of the skin on his stomach. Soft, pale - untouched by sun, untouched at all. Catching Jinki's attention from across the aisles of train seats as the boys shirt rode up with a stretch and a drawn out, early morning yawn. Jinki thought it better not to stare, but only realized this once he had been caught doing just that, and the matching white of the boys cheeks now began to flush with a rosy pink and a downcast gaze of his eyes from Jinki's intruding stare.  For the ride and for the next few times he found the boy - serendipitously around the city, coffee shops and malls and a grocery store where he stood comparing to vastly similar cans of soup for nearly ten minutes - he only gazes. He doesn't stare, but he definitely doesn't cast his eyes away. What a shame that would be, really, to exist at the same time as this treasure and not get even a quick look in. Jinki would be ashamed of himself for missing that opportunity and besides, the more he looks, the more likely he is to get a word in with those glances.  It's pretty easy to tell, though. Sometimes he'd be caught in the act - sadly not lingering around for long enough to figure out if that would turn into his dream of a confession; he was way too nervous for that. The boy had pretty, round, black eyes, tired but still very elegant. Soft cheeks covered in red splotches from the burning cold of February. And pink lips that, more often than not, had pearly whites digging into them as he stood, floating around inside his own thoughts. From where his bottom lip was held tight and white, of course, it sprung back when the strangers head whipped around to investigate why he felt as though he was being stared at.  White was the colour of the ground when they first spoke. The younger boy shivering outside of a liquor store, fingers blue and frustrated against the flint of his lighter. Jinki approached with a loud crunch of snow under his boots and a determination in his heart from the second he saw the boy across the way. There wasn't much to think of the conversation, really. A kind thank you when Jinki hands over his lighter to him and then a beat of silence before it would become strange to not talk. The boy fills the space. A deeper voice than Jinki would've expected but still so light, nearly effervescent, white sparkling wine against the burning red of his earlobes. After a few needless casual words Jinki feels something grow inside his stomach. He take a puff of his cigarette and holds it so long it's nearly painful and when he finally coughs out a plume of smoke, that feeling still stays deep inside of him. Jinki couldn't smoke it out if he tried.  Nervous and sweating despite below zero temperatures, Jinki tried to forget those feelings as his smoke burns down to a nub between his fingers. With no reason to stay a second longer without creeping his crush out, Jinki nods in his direction. "See you around."  And much to Jinki's surprise, crushing snow and the distant sound of the city isn't the only thing he hears as he makes a stride across the parking lot. His heart stops, and his heel jams against the soaked pavement as the boy calls out after him, blissfully - "When?"    [GREY]  Grey was the colour of the sky the day they fell in love. Jinki thinks it's strange - a bit too romantic - to base their relationship off seasons, but everything falls so perfectly into place, it's hard not to. The sky clouds over in that familiar beginning springtime grey, hope of relief from the lingering winter frigidity. Jinki's sat next to him, the boy he had come to know as a one Lee Taemin, round eyes and ripe lips and the sweetest dorkiest little laugh he had ever heard. Jinki quite liked him - really, he did.  Taemin was a shy boy. After their first real introduction Jinki deduces this, mainly because he himself was not too skilled when it came to social interaction, either. They got on just well, though. Despite some flushed cheeks and awkward stares, there was still something enticing about their interactions. Jinki knows this is mutual because Taemin fumbles over his words for the umpteenth time - picks at his cuticles and gnaws at his lip - but somehow, still marches on in making endless plans with the elder. It seemed he out weighed the anxiety for his growing affection for Jinki, and that was a very heart warming revelation.   Jinki falls in love, quite easily, he thinks. Giving a glance to that boy, leaning just an inch closer into his warmth. He sniffles in the cool air, not much different than before they knew each other, a cigarette still perched between his shivering fingers and his lips still pursed and gnawed at. A grey scarf mirroring the sky above them, and red cheeks and black eyelashes like a splash of watercolour on a previously blank canvas. It seems impossible not to be head over heels at that sight.  Jinki smiles at him. His attention gone from the clouds above and gone from their previous conversation. It's only him; Taemin. And as one mind the corner of the younger boy's lip tilts just a degree up. A mischievous hand sneaking around the elders arm as if Jinki's thoughts were on loudspeaker: as if Taemin knew exactly what would make him fall further in love. Their previously averted gazes meet as one rests his head on the shoulder of another, and smiles that smile Jinki thinks might give angels a run for their money. Jinki kisses him until he can't breathe, perhaps too eager, too in love - too soon. It's worrisome for only a moment, as Taemin's cold hands find their way to Jinki's cheeks, his tongue pressing back against the elders with a heavy sigh and a heaving chest that makes him feel that perhaps it is too early, but nonetheless, lets him know: no, he's not the only one.   [BLACK] Black was the colour of Taemin's sheets, his knees slipping off them on either side of Jinki's hips, and the younger's breath sticky against Jinki's sternum. He shakes with it, sinking down with the most horribly gorgeous look taught over his soft, sweaty face. Jinki'd say he was pulling him down, strong hands clutching at his hips, blunt fingernails digging in - but Taemin removes them with proof Jinki had not much say. The younger holds Jinki's hands above him in the air between the two, kisses over his palms and wrists and lets a finger or two dance over his tongue, all whilst his hips continue to rock at the same pace, if not faster. Jinki's gone from it at this point - not a shred of control left - not any needed. He doesn't mind. He would give anything for Taemin at this point really, he would.  He's said it already. Many times over their first summer together Jinki's told him, and Taemin mimicked him right back, sincerely, as well - but it still feels so nerve wracking, so unreal, that they're in love. Taemin mumbles it - something of the sort. Says he loves the way Jinki feels, the way he sounds - asks for more and Jinki gives it without even a thought to what it is; crying out for him as if he were lost. Telling him he loves him too - needs him - over and over, like a mantra. That he's everything he's ever wanted; because he is. And Jinki feels much too lucky.  In some ways, he feels that about every aspect of Taemin. He's practically a dream - in fact, perhaps something even better, because Jinki could not imagine someone more perfect even if he had been given a thousand years to try. He counts his lucky stars every night as he settles into bed right next to him, a soft confession of love against his lips before they drift off together - this time, though, ending before his regular wake up call. As Jinki wakes at sunrise to Taemin's hands and mouth exploring every inch of his body, pressing eagerly against him (he could never complain; Taemin was definitely the best alarm clock). But what felt so strange about the whole ordeal, was that it was mutual. And for every cry of adoration Jinki moaned for Taemin - or for every whisper or laugh or sincerely spoken confession any other time - he had just as many to throw back, from the depths of his heart.   He doesn't waste much time pondering how this could be. It baffles Jinki to the point of utter confusion: how he could be this lucky, but he never questions it. Jinki only thanks the universe for the gift that was Lee Taemin. Thanks god or fate or that broken lighter from nearly a year ago. For that blessed weight that sits above him - ruts against him and speaks, moans, about how much he loves him, too.   Jinki holds onto him for what seems like dear life, let's Taemin rock against him, gives him all the control he never had in the first place until he's being nearly consumed by the younger boy. Sloppy wet kisses all over his flushed face and fingernails digging into his shoulders, and that incessant babbling, spat into his ear like it didn't drive him completely insane - until it does. Pushing him over the edge until all he sees is black - the black of his eyelids and the black of the stars pressed against them, the hovering black halo of Taemin's shadow just above him. Then his lips, covering his face once again as Jinki falls back into consciousness to hear Taemin's rambling still lingering, only now it's nowhere near a blood boiling chant but rather a whisper. Gently, through the autumn morning chill, against a kiss he presses to Jinki's temple, only those three little words. "Me too." Jinki whispers back.