Pause the lips upon my face

[dainuhsoar]

title: Pause the lips upon my face
pairing: woohyun x sunggyu
rating: r
wordcount: 1438
tw: abuse
summary: prostitute au, sunggyu is the prostitute and woohyun is trying to deal with that. you know, the typical cliched prostitute story.

a/n: inspired by history's 'what am i to you' music video. title from cage the elephant's 'spiderhead'.

Pause the lips upon my face

            i.

            they sit on curbs and share food on skewers or hot coffee from styrofoam cups. they sit with their backs hunched, shoulders hunched and elbows balanced on knees. they wear skinny jeans that end at a point above their ankles to show off a strip of skin between pant leg and shoe, and t shirts and windbreakers. sunggyu's t shirt is a cotton dark-grey ripped at the collar and edge. woohyun's t shirt is a cotton blue with some andy warhol inspired print of a cat or something.

            they are barely 21 and wandering streets with an air of familiarity with the place. sunggyu knows the place, woohyun not so much. woohyun is familiar with things like fluorescent streetlights and big roadsigns and billboards that played movie trailers; sunggyu is familiar with dim orange streetlights and graffitied road signs and flashing neon lights that advertised 'sex here'.

            they are barely 21 and barely comfortable in their own skin. sunggyu definitely isn't comfortable in his own skin, ready to crawl out anytime to sneak under woohyun's skin, curling long fingers and long legs around smooth and tanned limbs, as if suffocating contact meant immersion into skin, bones and heart. woohyun is comfortable with things like um, kissing and hugging and touching. sunggyu is comfortable with all of that and more, like, um, sex.

            they are both young, excited and dumb. woohyun wants to experiment and sunggyu is experimenting and it doesn't take long for woohyun to get familiar with sunggyu's mouth, doesn't take long either to get comfortable with sunggyu's skin.

 

            ii.

            sunggyu forgets woohyun is someone paying him to take his clothes off, and he laughs a little too much, smiles a little too much, talks a little too much. sunggyu has a method of thinking nothing when it comes to work – he keeps his mouth shut and follows orders, puts his hands where they want his hands to be, kneels where they want him to kneel and does what they want him to do, essentially. woohyun, that little asshole, finds it necessary to take sunggyu's hands and ask, “here?” as he puts sunggyu's hands on his hips; and sunggyu forgets for a moment that woohyun is a client, he laughs with his head tipped back, gazing up at woohyun from his knelt down position on the floor and kisses woohyun's hipbones.

            and after everything, woohyun brushes hair from sunggyu's eyes and asks again, “grab a bite with me?” and sunggyu forgets that he can't, he really shouldn't and can't.

            woohyun forgets sunggyu does this for a living, and he holds on a little too long, smiles a little too brightly, and kisses a little too gently. he's not used to not showing affection because... he's woohyun. woohyun and his sickening way of making everything better just by shining his goddamn smile; or touching this way and that gently with the tips of his fingers, almost reverently; or using his honeyed voice to sing comforting words that shouldn't mean anything, but from him, they mean everything is going to be better and he says things like 'lust' or 'like' and 'love' but also demanding things like-

            “stop sleeping with other people.”

            but sunggyu can't, he really shouldn't and can't. this time he doesn't forget easily.

 

            iii.

            they try going out, like regular couples going out, dating with all the works – handholding, kissing, the occasional public display of affection. they're kind of happy, woohyun still can't shake off that his boyfriend is sleeping with other people; sunggyu can't shake off his entire life. it's not his fault, woohyun thinks and convinces himself whenever sunggyu receives a call, whenever he sees a mark on sunggyu's neck that wasn't left by him, whenever sunggyu gives him this guilty look that itself is blatant evidence of his cheating.

            but sunggyu isn't cheating, never has. and sunggyu reminds woohyun that he likes him, he smiles, laughs and talks only for woohyun. when woohyun asks for more 'only's, sunggyu shrinks inwardly but outwardly, he laughs and hits woohyun on the shoulder, scolding, “greedy.”

            and then woohyun is suddenly angry. he doesn't touch sunggyu, sticking his hands in his pockets and standing very still, he doesn't look at sunggyu, doesn't want to talk to him.

            they're suddenly fighting and sunggyu doesn't know why they're fighting.

 

            iv.

            sunggyu turns up with bruises. but woohyun isn't around to kiss his bruises and smile and whisper everything is going to be fine. he needs that assurance right now. sunggyu steps into the apartment, dark and heavy with silence. he leaves the lights off and starts taking his clothes off, eyes straining to see through the darkness guided only by the orange rays from the street lamps outside.

            there's something sacred about walking around nearly naked. sunggyu's done it lots of times in other people's homes, for those who wanted to pretend they care about him and let him stay the night; he's done it lots of times in his own home as well, just padding around in his underwear all day because clothes are heavy and warm and there's nothing quite like feeling skin being kissed golden by sunlight and wind.

            but padding around softly and blindly in his underwear in woohyun's home, it feels sacred, like a secret that should be kept always in the dark, only for him. sunggyu climbs under woohyun's sheets, curling the scratchy afghan blanket round him and presses his face into woohyun's pillow, breathing in deep, breathing in everything leftover woohyun has to offer.

            sunggyu desperately needs to crawl out of his own skin and into woohyun right now, but this is what he has to settle for, he thinks as he bites his lip and tries to ignore the hot mark of hands still around his neck, the painful throb still in his arms and the sharp stings still on his hips.

 

            v.

            there's an abandoned gym in this district and woohyun and sunggyu sometimes finds themselves there. all the equipment has been taken away, leaving a huge empty floor except for one lone sandbag hanging from the ceiling. they sit around in the gym, leaning backs against the mirror along one wall and they stare at the unmoving sandbag.

            they smoke cigarettes and swig beer, punctured by kisses and punctuated by sex.

            all they can hear is their own quick breaths, the ruffling of clothes, the messing of body and then the quick slap-slip of skin against skin. somewhere between moving from the floor to above woohyun, sunggyu catches the sandbag in the corner of his eye in the reflection and he pauses. he pauses for too long and woohyun combs fingers into sunggyu's hair, tucking hair behind his ear, and traces the contours of sunggyu's face, lingering on his lips. he sits up and presses his forehead against sunggyu's and now they're breathing each other in.

            woohyun then touches the purple bruise on sunggyu's ribs, and sunggyu doesn't twitch even though it hurts. he smiles weakly, “please just stop.”

            sunggyu wants to, really wants to. but he's in too deep, can't run away from this, can't just say “don't call me anymore, i don't want to take any more clients.” beause he's barely 21, remember, too young and too excited and too dumb to remember anything, but also too youthful and too soft and too beautiful to simply let go, even by people who see him as nothing more than an object.

            so all sunggyu can do now is kiss woohyun until woohyun forgets, and then falls asleep on woohyun's chest, right there, soaking in the glaring smiles and the sweaty smells. he drifts into this sort of void and he feels like he really has sunken into woohyun's skin.

 

            vi.

            woohyun comes home bringing the stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol with him. he finds sunggyu's figure curled up in their bed and stumbles over, wrapping himself around the sleeping figure. sunggyu sleeps on, undisturbed. if anything, he moves closer to woohyun.

            and woohyun smiles for no one, moves in closer to press his forehead to sunggyu's, thinking they can share dreams like this. he whispers, “please stop.” and curls a warm palm behind sunggyu's neck, gently stroking the column, an action he's familiar and comfortable with.

            when sunggyu wakes up in the morning, he finds woohyun snuggled under the afghan blanket with him, not wearing anything but his underwear too. and sunggyu can almost see the marks, throbs and stings that woohyun has taken from him and worn on himself, somehow, somehow, maybe through sharing dreams and feeling more familiar and comfortable with someone else's skin.