Getting Layd

Kris is in love with Yixing.

Not a question, or an exclamation, just a statement: something he's sure of he could put his life in the line for it. Yixing is unaware--which is unbelievable, considering how many signs and accidentally-on-purpose flirty brushes Kris sends his way. But that's how Yixing has been, and would always be; dense with just a tiny bit of cute, a pinch of smart, and a bucketful of sexy.

Usually, people would start spewing out 'it's not love, it's lust', or 'you're just horny' whenever Kris would mention this fact about his feelings for Yixing over a hot cup of cocoa, or a strong bottle of suju. And whenever they do, Kris would combat it with a cheesy yet disturbing line of 'While it's true that I think about fucking the daylights out of him in the kitchen countertop or in sunny beaches, you should remember that I spend three fourths of my day making sure that he's okay.'

It would usually shut their traps up, and Kris would shake his head because really, all this explaining is getting tiring and he can't wait for the time when Chanyeol and Baekhyun would inquire about something interesting like, idontknow, 'when are you off to in your next honeymoon, Kris?'

Somehow, that time seems like forever away. Watching Yixing practice their song's routine had Kris sweating like a pig--and an unflattering one at that. There's always something about following Yixing's fluid limbs as it glides in synch with the beat that makes Kris want to--excuse him--shove everyone out of the practice room, lock the door behind him, grab Yixing, rip his clothes off, and teach him a choreography that even their song mama can't live up to. (hint; it'd be their bodies smacking together with the musical accompaniment being their shredded groans and whimpers).

"Can you pass me the water?" Yixing asks.

"You have feet, right? You can go get it." Kris snaps and regrets it when it dawns on him that if he keeps on being the queen of bishes and smart ass comebacks, he's never going to get layd (lay, laid, layd, see what he did there?). So he mumbles an apology in the hopes that it's enough to atone for his previous comment. Maybe it'd get lost somewhere in Yixing's marvelous mind. "Here, make sure to drink alot. I'd hate it if you'd like, die of thirst or something. Take care of yourself. I'm always here for you, regardless or not you wipe that unholy sweat on--rolling cheeseballs, I can see your nipples!"

"Uh, thank you?" yixing takes the bottle from Kris's hand with raised eyebrows, and a hundred or so words in his tongue along the lines of you're creeping me out. stahp, in the name of love. "Uhm, it's not my fault if it's hot in here, and I have to practice, and my nipples just want to be appreciated."

"What."

"What." Yixing echoes, shaking his head.

"Drink up." Kris commands. "All that thirst is slowly drying up what's left of your brain."

Yixing forcefully twists the cap open while grumbling why are you so mean to me, what did i ever do to you, you bastard with a thousand names under his breath. Kris hears, but doesn't reply--he's too occupied with watching Yixing's adam's apple bob with every gulp. Queue the not-so-unfamiliar stirring in his gut and the blood rushing down to parts of him that should just be dubbed as 'parts' because this fic is supposed to be PG-13, but seeing as how Kris can't contain his frantic language and supposed-to-be-censored thoughts, let's hop on the NC-17 train.

"Are you okay?" Yixing asks with a few droplets skimming over his pink lips.

"No," who would be okay when they're like, sexually frustrated and alone with the reason of that sexual frustration inside a warm room? Kris wonders. His eyes roam around the practice room; over the mirror walls and uber clean floor, then to the large door that looks like it's begging Kris to walk to it. He follows his own advice and mentally talks to that inanimated object, then turns to Yixing. "I'll be going first. Do you have your keys?"

"Yeah,"

"Good, cause I won't be opening the door for you if you forget them again." With that, he starts jogging to the door, crossing his fingers in front of him. Kris isn't a firm believer in the divine, but as he leaves the building, he finds himself praying; God, I hope Yixing didn't notice the boner. it would have been awkward.



If you ask Kris (not that you did, he's just assuming that you want to know. If you don't; he's going to tell you anyway) how he fell in love with Yixing, he'll tell you that it took him three days to love Yixing, and four more years to fuel that already-dangerous fire of love.

Yixing doesn't even try to seduce or lure Kris; it just happens and that's what makes everything so frustrating--the fact that Yixing doesn't try. All he ever does is go out there and be Zhang Yixing. You know, the dude who takes his fully-charged mp3 for a long bus journey, yet ends up leaving his headset back home.

Kris is a big fan of logic and math and science and facts; big fat facts with big fat reasons coupled with bigger and fatter logic. Falling in love (and lust) with yixing isn't logical. It's like taking a (excuse him again) massive, mind-numbing, earthquake-triggering, painful dump at a public restroom; something that's a bit on the embarassing side because you know you're dead meat once people find out it's you, something dirty and secretive, yet physically and emotionally light--almost as if a huge weight is being lifted off your shoulders. (which isn't true, kris thinks, because really, when you're taking a dump it doesn't go out of your shoulders. stupid freaking idiom).

He's replaying scenes of Yixing's touches and cute moments in his mind, an embarrassing and juvenile blush staining his cheeks in the dark. A thick blanket is wrapped around his body. His eyes are shut, and he's obviously pretending to be asleep. (Jongin says that kris is a horrible actor, but since Yixing hasn't found out this little trick of Kris yet, Kris decides that Jongin is just lying and he should win a Grammy for his acting skills. they're grammy's right?)

Twisting doorknob. Doors barging open. Heavy footsteps that could obviously belong to no one else but Yixing fills the silence residing in their little dorm. Kris remains with the charade--snoring lightly with tight lids--and waits for the familiar sound of Yixing crawling to his own bed and moving his pillows.

it isn't until ten minutes later when Kris hears Yixing's steady breathing when he himself finally falls asleep.

(you see, even overgrown freaks display love in their own freaky ways that only they can understand).



"Have sex with me," Kris blurts when the scent of Yixing's shampoo (which smells like citrus, some floral shizz, and temptation) invades his nostrils, tickles his lungs, and moves his heart. (don't forget the groin).

"Write me a poem," Yixing replies and he doesn't even blink or give kris the which-mental-hospital-did-you-escape-from look. He talks back as if he's been waiting for Kris to say this for years. okay, maybe he is. "And I might consider it."

"I don't do mights. I want a solid yes."

"Fine. Write me a poem and mights won't be the only thing you'll do." yixing winks.

that night, Kris drinks two bottles of alcohol and when he's batshit drunk, he grabs a pen, a paper and lets his heart slither out of him through his fingertips. kris spills feelings on a scrap paper because he's a fucking majestic writer once he's drunk enough. He decides to write a free verse (since that's the only thing he can pull off well).



i.
you were hoping for something overly sexual.
passionate, fiery, erotic, maybe?
don't even try to deny, your lips would be calling out my name anyway.
lies shouldn't be mixed with them.

ii.
i love you.
these are words that i've rehearsed in front of the mirror
as often as I check myself out.
these are words that i want you to hear,
but these are also words that refuse to leave the chambers of my heart
once you're close enough to touch.

iii.
the moon is beautiful isn't it?
you're like that as well.
(pale, alluring, something that I can't take my eyes off)
you're luna.
can i be your neil armstrong?

iv.
i want to stop writing and ask you if this is enough
for your lips to finally meet mine, for your back to arch towards me,
but i'm having fun, you see.
words.
i've got a lot of them and a million happens to be about and for you.

v.
why am i doing this.
this shit doesn't make sense.
really, it's scattered and messy and terribly unorganized.
just like the way i love you.

vi.
okay, i'll stop.
but just one last thing;
you have to admit that i'm kind of a great lover, right?
(and that the sweetest things are hiding a parenthesis).

vii.
you've reached the end of your trial period
to get the full version, please enter the serial code.
(Kr!$ d0-m3-n0w)

the rest of the poem can be found in the crook of yixing's neck,
the length of his spine, and the space between his collarbones
written in flesh-tinted ink with the aid of Kris's lips.



Kyungsoo likes Kris when it's Tuesday because Tuesdays are Kris' good days. He'd take Kyungsoo and Jongin for a movie, or even crack a funny joke or two (tuesdays are the only days when his jokes are funny. others are just plain corny). It's Wednesday and he's totally not expecting Kris to barge in on him and Jongin vacuuming each other's tongue in his kitchen.

"Guess what?" Kris jumps, separating Jongin and Kyungsoo's shoulders with his arm. "I just got layd."

fin.