don't demand, command
don't demand, command
Title: don't demand, command
Pairing: mingming x junhui
Genre: meh
Rating: idk
Length: one-shot (3,013 words)
Summary: you can't beat me.
Though the music blaring through the echoing walls of the practice room helped the hard-working boy to forget about his worries, another hard-working boy, who believed he was even better than the first, ran through the door as soon as its beat rung through the building. Stopping the machine it was coming from and without even a glance at the dancer, he spoke his thoughts aloud: “You’re doing it wrong.” The dancer’s face shifted into a slightly confused expression until he came to the quick realisation of the intruder’s identity.
“Shut up, Junhui,” Mingming scowled, looking the other up and down to analyse the competition he’s had to tolerate for so long. Junhui always thought he was better than him, and maybe he was, but he was trying his best to not admit it. “I’ll be better than you soon.”
“Come on, Mingming, just accept the truth.” After deliberating, Junhui changes his mind. “Actually, maybe you are better than me. Let’s have a competition. Here. On Friday. I can help you improve while we’re practicing if you want. I know you want me to, I’m just offering so you don’t have to beg.”
Mingming stares at the wooden floor to contemplate, tracing the cracks with his eyes while his hands gracefully shift from the previous dance position he held, instead of the ugly face in front of him, which he had, unfortunately, already memorised every detail of. He didn’t like Junhui. He… loved him. And Junhui was a better dancer than him. But he wasn’t going to admit either of those things, although he was sure Junhui had his views on both of them already.
“Fine. We can watch each other while we’re practicing, but don’t freaking tell me what to do. Alright?”
“Alright, whatever. See you tomorrow!”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
“JUNHUI, I told you not to say anything while I’m practicing!”
“I just want to help you to be better than me. That’s what you want, right?”
“Yes- I mean no. I don’t want your help, but I’ll be better than you. Trust me.”
Mingming starts the song over again, visualising his every move before performing it to his very best – sharp, edgy, unique dancing that would amaze the crowd he performed in front of. He conjured up great flow, his steps connected with each other,-
“You’re thinking too much.”
“ing hell, Junhui. Okay. If you want to tell me what to do: don’t demand, command. Do you know the difference?”
The smirk on Junhui’s face, which Mingming had begun to believe was a permanent expression for him, dropped, causing the atmosphere to change into a type of metaphorical silence. It had never felt this way before and Mingming felt bad because Junhui looked so cute when he was confused and he looked like he was really trying to concentrate and he didn’t even- wait, no. Junhui was dumb. Junhui was an idiot. Junhui was trying to throw him off track so he could win the competition.
“I didn’t think so. Since I study a lot more than your dumb , let me tell you the definitions I remember. Demand: an insistent request, made as if by right. Command: an authoritative order. Everyone likes authoritative figures in their life, don’t they? I’d like you better if you help me with commands. If you demand anything from me, I won’t want to do it. Your social skills are quite lacking, but while you help me dance, I can help you improve on those. Alright?”
Junhui’s adorable puppy eyes- no, his weirdly-shaped, weirdly-coloured eyes, looked up from under his chocolate strands. “A- alright. But nobody’s saying I want you to like me.” It was the first time Mingming had seen this side of Junhui, and, of course and undoubtedly, he liked it.
“First of all, begin with the commanding.”
“Uh… well,” Junhui’s confidence began to return, “when you do this,” he repeated the move he was referring to, “your legs are in the wrong position. It would be better if they were like this. Otherwise, your ankles might twist and I- nobody wants you to get injured.” He began to dance the whole routine, demonstrating his adapted version of it, while Mingming wondered how long Junhui had been watching him to be able to have not only memorised this much of the choreography, but to have it completed almost to perfection.
“Okay. Well… when you tell me like that, it’s a lot nicer to hear.”
Junhui’s body language shifted into a certain shyness Mingming had never seen as he shuffled to the corner where he had previously been in a state of confident observance, remaining quiet to review Mingming’s mental note-taking. After a once-over of the redecorated performance, the boy with the darkest hair and the, apparently, lowest dancing skill turned to the other. Expecting a you’re doing it wrong or even a simple no, Mingming was shocked by the silence he received. “A-anything to say? Comments? Questions? Insults?”
Junhui snapped out of the deep thought he appeared to be in and Mingming wondered what he could possibly be thinking about at this time. Well, he was kind of hungry, maybe Junhui was too-
“You’re doing really well, actually. I just realised- I- I think I like-“ A slight pause arose and a confused expression from Mingming allowed Junhui to rethink what he was doing and wonder what the hell he was doing. “I think I like this version of the performance better. Who knows, maybe you could be better than me.” Junhui concluded, a smile full of braces appearing. Once again, something Mingming had not seen before. The usual Junhui consisted of a straight face or a slight smirk, an ice cold yet blazing stare and an aura of confidence bouncing off his caramel skin.
“You like my- what? Did you- Does that count as a compliment? From the famous Wen Junhui? To the incompetent Yao Mingming? I’m amazed.”
Junhui’s smile which caused his eyes to become crescent moons, and, coincidentally or ironically (Mingming wasn’t sure. Of anything right now, actually), was only seen once in a full moon, disappeared.
“I- You- It wasn’t a compliment! I’m just trying to help you. I, um, do you- let’s practice the routine together? For… comparison?”
Mingming agreed to the, what seemed to be, planned conspiracy, but only because Junhui was so extremely meticulous in his dancing and Mingming did want to be at or above his level, although he couldn’t admit it.
In a short time, the relationship between the two seemed to be developing at a rapid pace, camaraderie becoming slightly present but not yet known enough to determine whether it was a friendship or something else. The two had known each other for the longest out of their friends, seeing as they were the only Chinese ones of the others. They had the advantage of being able to communicate with each other, but most of the talking they did was predominantly insults or non-verbal.
Somehow, dancing with Junhui alleviated Mingming’s worries and, although it was quiet and their main focus was perfecting the exactness of everything, the air was filled with a kind of nonchalance which neither Mingming or Junhui had felt for years. It was the kind of feeling which made them think that they were meant to be together, that this was the life they had to lead. Mingming loved it because he loved Junhui, and Junhui loved it because, well, he didn’t know why. Although there was no reasoning for him, he liked it.
The two Chinese dancers danced side-by-side, paralleling each other’s moves while observing the comparison in the mirrors around them. Mingming occasionally and subtly stole a glance at Junhui’s concentrated expression, admiring the creases in his soft skin formed from his hard work. He had been successful at avoiding eye contact for most of the time, but he became lost in reverie and was found in ultimate failure. He attempted to avoid more than 3 seconds of the awkward interaction, but Junhui didn’t allow him.
“I know I’m good-looking, but you can just ask if you want to stare at me. I’m used to it.” Junhui turned to look at Mingming, mischieviously folding his arms across his toned chest. “How much do you want to look at me?” he continued, slow steps forward which made Mingming unwillingly take slow steps backwards to the reflection they had just been practicing in. Junhui didn’t uncross his arms, but began taking faster and further strides. Mingming wasn’t sure what was happening, and although it was the controlling and conceited Junhui which he usually disliked, this kind of situation was pretty… hot. Fulfilling. And so he went along with it.
Mingming halted his backwards step as he softly hit the mirror behind him, staring at Junhui who was 1 metre away from him. 40 centimetres. 30. 20. Way too close. Not close enough.
“Mingming,” Junhui seductively whispered into his ear, resting his chin on his shoulder. Mingming began to feel a slight shake under the tension of Junhui’s body pressed against his, something he hadn’t known he had always wanted. The warmth which he brought to his rarely touched skin stimulated his sensitivity and caused him to let out a soft but hardly audible moan.
Hardly audible, but, of course, the master Junhui heard it. Mingming’s stance couldn’t be classified as standing, but rather leaning against the mirror with the help of Junhui’s leg supporting him in between his thighs. Mingming didn’t respond to Junhui’s calling of his name, but waited.
“I know you explained the difference between demanding and commanding and all that,” Junhui softly reasoned, “but can I demand you one more thing?”
After short hesitation, Mingming completed a small nod accompanied by a quiet sigh – a sigh of mixed emotions: happiness, worry, confusion, the list went on and he was wondering if--
“Kiss me.”
Confusion was now the majority of what filled Mingming’s mind – Junhui seemed to have turned 180 degrees without changing one bit. He stayed silent as he glided his eyes over the face, which was so close to him now that he could see his own reflection in the focused eyes, starting from the hairline and resting on the lips as Junhui pulled his head back so he could see his expression. The treasured lips which were so tempting yet so easy to resist. Junhui not only made Mingming exasperated in a negative way, but also in the most positive way possible. Reminiscing the memories he had with Junhui, Mingming snapped out of his thoughts and moved his face an inch closer to the others.
“Don’t accept this as me succumbing to your demand,” Mingming affirmed, eyes remaining locked on the lips which had opened slightly wider, “but I’m doing this on my own accord.” The sophistication of Mingming’s words caused Junhui to finally uncross his arms and press his hands on the mirror either side of his new appreciation.
“Nope,” Mingming smiled, “my accord.” He guided Junhui’s arms down and turned them both around so that their positions were reversed, but held on to his hands. Albeit shy, it felt nice to take control of a situation for once. Especially with Junhui. The power of attraction was definitely holding strong for both of them, it seemed.
“My accord,” Mingming repeated for the third time as he slowly leaned in, simultaneously smiling and staring into Junhui’s eyes, embracing the sight which reminded him of chocolate and made him wonder how delicious Junhui was. Pressing his lips against Junhui’s for the first time, he realised that Junhui was extremely delicious – ten out of ten, maybe an eleven. There was a type of feeling present which Mingming hadn’t felt while kissing someone before, but he figured Junhui was different from all of those times.
Junhui made Mingming feel strange even before today, a good kind of strange. Now, it was even better.
Junhui began his contribution to the newfound intimacy by adjusting his lips to tessellate between Mingming’s, deducing that this was definitely what he had been waiting for the whole day. He had become Mingming’s auxiliary and he didn’t mind at all. Mingming shifted his body up to press closer against Junhui, pacing the session as he pleased, enjoying the sense of control he felt. Junhui knew he wanted to be the one in control, but he let Mingming have it for the moment because the way Mingming knew how to slightly bite down without causing pain was amazing. His hands were becoming warm as a result of Mingming not letting go of him – he probably forgot he was holding onto them – but it was okay. He liked it. He liked Mingming.
“I like you,” Junhui quietly declared in the short time between kisses. Mingming merely smiled a wide smile and continued to rub his lips against Junhui’s, seemingly with more pressure than before and transitioning through to an insert of the tongue. All they were doing today was making out, Mingming confirmed with himself, and that’s what he should make the best of. Junhui took this as both acceptance and response as they played a game between them, their tongues the players and their giggles the audience.
He figured this wouldn’t be a one-time thing so let Mingming do whatever he pleased. Mingming eventually remembered he was holding onto Junhui’s hands, lifting them up so the tops of them were against the mirror and interlocking their fingers. They continued softly kissing, occasionally changing the target from the lips to other places – the cheek, the neck, the collarbone – then returning to where they had begun. Junhui’s lips tasted like strawberries and cream and Mingming questioned himself as to how he could taste so nice when he was so distasteful.
Mingming’s hands untwined from Junhui’s as he slid his fingertips down his arms and along his neck, massaging his body on the way down to his hips. As he continued tasting strawberries and cream with a side of Junhui’s tongue, he altered his hand’s position to place enough pressure on the bulge in front of his to cause Junhui’s instincts to take over – his hips jolted forward into the boy’s palm, the gap between his eyebrows creasing and pleasuring Mingming’s eyes. Maybe he wasn’t the best dancer, but he was the best at something. Junhui seemed to always be too concentrated to have fun, so had no idea about the advanced skills.
Gently massaging the bulge once more, Mingming took his hand away for a moment only to lift Junhui’s shirt up to reveal his stomach and push his hand down his string-tied pants to feel the he had caused. You have to finish what you started, right? Junhui, Mingming could see, absolutely loved not having to order anything, and was embracing the time they had together.
As Mingming attempted to find the most delicate, sensitive, pleasurable place for the touch he was giving, a low groan escaped Junhui’s mouth before it was interrupted by the sudden opening of a door. . Junghan. He always came in on Thursdays for vocal practice. Mingming stuck with his initial reaction to retract his hand from Junhui’s pants as fast as he could and spin around in an attempt to make it look like they were still practicing dance. He ended his spin in a way that he was facing a confused Junghan who must’ve already seen what was happening or was otherwise trying his best to ignore it. He heard Junhui take a few steps to stand behind him but continued staring at Junghan as he seemed to be looking at what would have been Junhui’s . He looked as if he was going to say something, but stopped himself before taking a quick glance at the ceiling as if to rid of his utter bewilderment that Junhui and Mingming could have actually been doing something nice – a bit too nice for him to imagine – together. After remaining silent, Junghan continued walking in the direction he had come in, heading to the vocal practice room with the theme song of Mingming’s muffled laugh.
“Awkward,” Mingming span to face Junhui, greeted with a tight embrace he would have never expected from him in the last 5 years.
“We should probably stop now,” Junhui giggled like a girl.
“I guess,” Mingming sighed, “I’ll… see you tomorrow? Heh.”
Junhui smiled and nodded, a quick confirmation that he knew the hidden meaning behind his words. Mingming headed to his bag next to the table at the wall, swung it over his shoulder and opened the door. Taking one last look at the Junhui he had rediscovered, his lips turned up as the curiosity of the remainder of Junhui remained. What he had seen today was only 5% of the Junhui he really knew, and he wanted to know the other 95% so badly.
His eyes squinted to accompany his smile. He raised a hand on one side of his mouth to not allow the non-existent person next to him see what he was saying. “By the way, I like you too,” Mingming quietly assured with a subtle wink. “See you tomorrow!”
Mingming left the door to close behind him, Junhui encompassed by the echoing creak it produced. His face was straight for a small moment until he came to the realisation of what had just occurred, and unwillingly grinned at thin air. He didn’t think he would ever say it, but he couldn’t wait to see Mingming again.
With Mingming long gone, Junhui came to his senses. “You’re doing it right,” he responded, although much too late. He knew Mingming wouldn’t care. He knew Mingming would be skipping on his way home. He knew Mingming.
He also knew that, tomorrow, they were going to finish off what they had started today. And he would do one other thing which he promised himself he wouldn’t do for anyone unless his feelings were strong enough, a promise he thought he would never have to think about.
He was going to let Mingming win.
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