Biologically speaking, everything about Lee Jinki is ographic.

Practically speaking, everything about Lee Jinki is ing tragic, and that is a fact that drives Jonghyun to drink even if he can't actually get drunk anymore - one of those side effects no one tells you about until it's too late and you're an undying sad sack of sobriety sitting at the end of the bar.

But, that was a sidebar. Lee Jinki. Jonghyun examines him through a glass half-full of alcohol so potent he should be knocked out just by breathing it in. He wonders idly if the man has ever taken the initiative, or if he always needs the little push.

Well, no time like the present (except the future, and past, and Jonghyun's been around for a while. The present is a ing hipster.). He slides off his bar stool and brushes past a series of bodies whose heads turn like a series of falling dominos to look at him. It's a predictable, understandable reaction - it's one of the reasons he forgives immortality for the whole constant sobriety thing. Ignoring the open bar stool next to Jinki, he insinuates himself right into his warm lap and motions to the bartender for another drink before Jinki can displace him.

"Shouldn't you be outside by now?" the other man asks, unruffled at the extra weight.

"Not tonight."

Jinki hooks his chin onto Jonghyun's shoulder, leans in close to nuzzle at a scar that's long disappeared. It doesn't stop Jonghyun from shivering a little. He will stand by his assessment of Jinki being ing tragic, but it won't stop him from enjoying it.

"Oh?", he asks without any expectation of an answer. He already has his answer in how Jonghyun is burrowing down between his thighs, how he's ignoring all the eager, entranced eyes in favor of Jinki's steady, welcoming heat.

"Jinki," Jonghyun murmurs as the other man's hands slide along the waistband of his pants, pulling his shirt loose so his touch finds bare skin that reliably prickles at the gentle press. He is pliant and responsive even after so many years, and Jinki feels a swell of unencouraged affection.

Jinki sighs and presses a kiss to Jonghyun's neck.

"You know what would be fun..."

"I don't," he says, sounding so sincere Jonghyun almost believes him. He nuzzles up to his ear and the tender, soft skin between his teeth.

Jonghyun twists, tearing it out of his mouth too rough to not bleed, but it won't. It never does. His eyes are dark and pleading, and Jinki sighs, wishing that someone in this bar had been bold enough to paw at Jonghyun earlier, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to resist, would've been in the bathroom, blood out of a hundred cuts until his lover had fluttered into satisfied unconsciousness.

But no one had, and now Jonghyun is fixated on Jinki, and all the things Jinki makes Jonghyun want.

"Jjongie," he attempts to persuade, letting his hands find their well-traveled path. "You know I don't."

Jonghyun pouts and Jinki leans up, at the exposed, pale pink of his lip.

"You'd feel better, and you know it," he throws his legs over Jinki's so he's straddling the other man. Jinki's eyes have gone black, unmissable even in the bad lighting, and Jonghyun bends down to dust kisses down Jinki's jawline.

"C'mon, Jinki," he breathes against the swell of his Adam's apple. His hands tighten around Jonghyun's hips. "You want to."

"I don't," comes the reply, instantaneous and false. Jonghyun can feel the blood rushing to Jinki's cheeks even as he pulls back to examine his face. He looks teased, and Jonghyun loves it.

"You know that I would," he starts, and they both know it's true. Jonghyun has no problem with submission, servitude, being used and broken for all the world to see. It never stops anyone from wanting him. "But you need someone else. You're not meant to be so...monogamous. Vanilla."

Jinki looks offended, and his hands grip harder. Jonghyun imagines bruises that will never be.

He wheedles in closer, placing his head into the curve of his shoulder so that they're both looking at the rest of the bar.

"Pick one. Make them yours."

Jinki lets out a breath, and Jonghyun knows he's won. He eyes the array in front of him, and his gaze falls on a pair of intelligent eyes, a lovely face, a haughty gait that begs to be broken. The man shakes his hair out of his eyes and briefly brushes his gaze over the pair of them before sliding beside a table at the other side of the room. Jonghyun shifts in Jinki's lap as he feels the other man, how enamored he is at first sight, a romantic impulse that no one could quite drum out of him.

"Go over there already," he says, leaning in to at his slightly parted lips. "Maybe he'll bite."

Jinki's lips curl before Jonghyun pulls away completely, into a smile that teases at all the things that Jonghyun wants to see. He hops off just as he moves to get up, accepts the warm, affectionate kiss that pushes heat down his throat.

He leans back on his elbows, and prepares for his favorite sight: Jinki, indulging in his nature.

---

Kibum's hands are already halfway to dismissal for the man who comes up to his table, not even bothering to look up. His focus is on alcohol tonight, not company.

"I'm really sorry," the man says, and he actually sounds sincerely apologetic, a rarity that has Kibum breaking his oath and looking up.

Cute, he thinks, and the man blushes just as the thought sweeps across Kibum's mind, like he could hear the assessment.

"I just wanted...to talk to you...," he continues and his hand lands nervously on the back of the chair Kibum should have dragged away when he sat down.

Kibum sips at his drink and pointedly doesn't invite the other man to sit down. He notices and pulls his hand away quickly, as though it had flared hot against his skin. He stands there, awkward, as Kibum waits and wonders why he even bothered looking up. Cute and awkward only brings so much forgiveness, and he finds his gaze catching on how his fingers are playing idly at the cuffs of his shirt. His visitor's hands are wide, thick-, and he imagines the span of it against the back of his head, pushing Kibum beneath the table.

He finishes off his drink viciously and clears his throat to deliver the mercy kill, but he's stopped before the words can get out.

"You're beautiful, you know. More than anyone else I've ever seen," he says, and he's looking straight at Kibum with big, chocolate-dark eyes, and he feels a flush crawl up his neck at the simple compliment. He swallows down his dismissal without thinking, the straightforwardness of his words working an odd, entertaining charm over him.

He wonders if his compliments would come in a whisper as he bends at the waist to graze his lips against the shell of Kibum's ear.

Kibum shifts, says, "You wanted to talk to me because I'm beautiful, but you haven't let me say anything." He smirks, but it feels strange and unfamiliar, like it's the wrong thing for his lips to be doing.

A hopeful look comes into the other man's eyes, "A conversation is better when you can sit?"

Kibum nods stiffly and a smile lights up his visitor's face as he takes a seat.

"I'm Jinki," he formally introduces himself, and he holds out his hand to shake. Kibum takes it, and Jinki's fingers curl inwards, nails finding the lines of his palm. Kibum can only imagine the same sensation against his scalp.

"Kibum," he says sternly.

"Kibum," Jinki breathes it out intimately. "What are you doing here tonight? Meeting anyone?"

He huffs a laugh at the transparency.

"I wanted a drink," he says instead, and Jinki's face goes bright in an instant, before he turns in his seat, signaling at one of the bartenders for a refill. There's a purplish bruise exposed by the gesture, resting just above his collarbone, and Kibum's eyes narrow and he looks down the line of bodies pressed against the countertop. Jinki looks pleased as the bartender nods in acknowledgement and begins to work on the drink, but his expression turns confused until he follows the line of his sight, and finds the small blond smiling at the nearest warm body.

"Do you think I'll end up sitting in your lap too?" he asks, a little more waspish than he intends, because Jinki is just some guy at a bar. Jinki's boyfriend / hook-up is alcohol off of his top lip, and it's left shiny even in the dim lighting. His eyes are bright.

"Jonghyun's a little forward," Jinki says, and Kibum snorts at the understatement. The other man is smiling out of the corner of his eyes. "He likes to tease me."

"Looks like you enjoyed it," Kibum responds, still looking at Jonghyun. His hand flutters in the general direction of Jinki's neck. "Are you trying to tell me you don't like it?"

"I like follow-through," Jinki says simply as he turns back to face him. His face is thoughtful. "I don't mind teasing as a precursor."

"It sounds like you never learned to how take rejection."

Jinki's eyes crinkle at the edges, even as he doesn't smile. 

"I don't get much practice."

He doesn't say those words like Kibum would expect - not cocky, not flirtatious. He says it like it's just another fact of his existence. 

In the silence that follows, his new drink is set down before him, and he takes a sip of it, appreciating how they've made it stronger this time around. A stray hair falls in front of his eyes, and Jinki lurches a little, as though he has to remember it's not his place, not his privilege to tuck Kibum's hair back for him. He swipes a finger against the table instead, and Kibum can feel the brush of his fingers against his cheekbones, how they cup his face. 

He blinks, and looks at Jinki - really looks at him, trying to account for all the stray intimacies his mind keeps generating. He's not desperate, not lonely, not drunk, but something about Jinki is making him want, with a hot curl of desire tight beneath his skin.

The look on Jinki's face changes while Kibum examines him. The open sincerity stays, but with it a kind of distant curiosity, like he was waiting to see if Kibum will surprise him. It's hopeful, even, in a way that says his hopes have been disappointed before. 

JInki finally breaks the silence, "Kibum, you're staring."

"Yes."

"Why?"

His tongue feels heavy, weighted somehow by the distance between their two bodies. It would be easier to speak right into his ear, press his chest against his and let their communication be just theirs. His and Jinki's. It seems right. Kibum slides closer to the table, closer to Jinki, who is looking at him with the same patient, hopeful eyes. 

"Should I stare at Jonghyun instead?" he cracks, looking over in time to see said man being pulled into the bathroom by some unnamed suitor. 

"Don't," comes an order, and Kibum obeys.

"Ah, sorry," Jinki is still sincere even as he's trying to think why, why would he stop. "He'd hurt you, that's all."

"Will you?"

Jinki grins, reaches out and lays his hand on top of Kibum's. He meets his eyes and slowly pinches at the thin skin of his wrist until it turns white. Kibum flinches, imagining bruises, purple and blue and pretty, dotting his skin. 

"Do you want me to?"

 Kibum isn't into that, but he feels strongly that Jinki is, and he wants to be, a desire sudden and alien taking control of his blood, his body, his mind, overriding everything in a tidal wave he feels powerless against. It's a desire to kneel and submit, to bend just for the pleasure of breaking. Kibum stifles a salivating "yes" with difficulty, and Jinki looks surprised and pleased at his silence, leaning forward onto his elbows. Kibum mimics the gesture, and Jinki reaches across the table and plucks the glasses from his face, closing them and settling them down gently. He blinks as his vision adjusts, and the only thing swimming into focus is Jinki. His hands are warm and they brush against Kibum's cheeks to rest beneath his jawline, like Kibum needs the support.

He does need it, Kibum realizes suddenly, as his head dips down and is caught in Jinki's hold.

He needs, he needs, he needs.

Jinki smiles at him, and Kibum shudders.