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Untitled
Chen/Xiumin; NC-17; ~750w.; Smut
It’s a completely innocent gesture, Jongdae supposes. Or, he would suppose if he wasn’t harder than stone.
They’ve been chatting to their fans for nearly an hour when Minseok settles himself in Jongdae’s lap. It’s a completely innocent gesture, Jongdae supposes. Or, he would suppose if he wasn’t harder than stone. He squirms under the pressure on his thighs, praying the elder won’t scoot back even the slightest bit. It’s not his fault, he reasons to himself. Minseok happens to look great in everything he wears, even if that something is an oversized hoodie that does nothing for his figure
Jongdae tries not to shift, tries not to think about how close they are, how easy it would be sneak out and fill an unoccupied room, closet, anything with their mingling breaths. He fidgets anyway and focuses on the fans’ demands rather than how much he wants to bed his band mate
By the time they finish the chat, Jongdae has almost forgotten how painfully tight his pants are. Almost. Minseok is one of the last to stand, movements slow and seemingly deliberate. He leans backwards as he lifts himself; back brushing Jongdae’s chest and hips rolling to rub against the younger’s clothed erection. Jongdae’s breath hitches.
He scoots back as far as he can in the chair, hoping Minseok will believe him when he insists he had his phone in his lap. Yet, when the elder turns around and he’s met with lust-blown eyes and a familiar half-smirk, he doesn’t think it will be necessary. Swallowing thickly, Jongdae stands up on shaking legs and starts to follow the other members. Before he can get far, however, a hand grabs his elbow and he’s pushed back into the chair faster than he can realize what’s happening.
“Wha-“
“Jongdae’s having a little trouble,” Minseok calls, effectively cutting him off. “We’ll catch up in a few minutes.”
“What do you mean ‘trou-” He’s silenced once again by a hand on his mouth. Minseok brings a finger to his lips and watches over his shoulder as the others file out of the room, the staff shortly after. As soon as they’ve left he rushes to the door and flips the lock. Jongdae holds his breath as Minseok walks towards him, the elder’s footsteps being the only sound in the space. It feels like hours have passed by the time Minseok is finally standing before him again. Jongdae releases a breath and stares up at him, practically paralyzed in his seat
“Hyung,” he hisses as Minseok settles himself back in his lap. “What are you doing?”
Minseok ignores the question, instead trailing deft hands down to unzip Jongdae’s jeans. The younger stares up at him with wide eyes. Never had he thought the elder would consent to this, let alone instigate it. He lifts his hips unconsciously as said hands pull his trousers down his legs, revealing tight boxers made only tighter by his erection.
“Minseok.” He tries again, cheeks reddening when he sees his gaze is fixed on his crotch. Jongdae brings his hands up to rest on Minseok’s chest, prepared to push him away when the elder suddenly stands. Their eyes remain locked as he removes his pants, tossing them away to rest with the other pair. Within moments he’s straddling Jongdae, pressing himself forward until their lengths brush. He ruts forward experimentally, smirking when Jongdae groans against his shoulder. Minseok continues to buck his hips forward, relishing in every moan that escapes Jongdaes parted lips. He leans he head down and mouths along his neck, halting just above his collarbones to suck a mark into his skin. Jongdae lifts his own hips up to meet every rut and bump, trying not to scream from the sensory overload.
“I-I’m…” he manages, but the words are unnecessary when Minseok falters, all movements stuttering as he releases in his boxers, Jongdae’s name a whisper as he collapses onto the younger’s chest. Jongdae grunts, still painfully hard, and attempts to gain friction from Minseok’s spent form. With a few more thrusts against his thigh he’s pushed over the edge, breathing erratic as he comes down from his high
They remain slumped in the chair for what seems like ages, Minseok only sitting back when he remembers where they are. He stands with a grimace, pulling his boxers off and carefully lifting his jeans back on.
“Come on, the others are waiting.” Jongdae nods, dazed, and does the same. He isn’t quite sure what just happened, but as their hands intertwine and Minseok flashes him a small, secret smile, he can’t bring himself to care.
Chen/Xiumin; NC-17; ~750w.; Smut
It’s a completely innocent gesture, Jongdae supposes. Or, he would suppose if he wasn’t harder than stone.
They’ve been chatting to their fans for nearly an hour when Minseok settles himself in Jongdae’s lap. It’s a completely innocent gesture, Jongdae supposes. Or, he would suppose if he wasn’t harder than stone. He squirms under the pressure on his thighs, praying the elder won’t scoot back even the slightest bit. It’s not his fault, he reasons to himself. Minseok happens to look great in everything he wears, even if that something is an oversized hoodie that does nothing for his figure
Jongdae tries not to shift, tries not to think about how close they are, how easy it would be sneak out and fill an unoccupied room, closet, anything with their mingling breaths. He fidgets anyway and focuses on the fans’ demands rather than how much he wants to bed his band mate
By the time they finish the chat, Jongdae has almost forgotten how painfully tight his pants are. Almost. Minseok is one of the last to stand, movements slow and seemingly deliberate. He leans backwards as he lifts himself; back brushing Jongdae’s chest and hips rolling to rub against the younger’s clothed erection. Jongdae’s breath hitches.
He scoots back as far as he can in the chair, hoping Minseok will believe him when he insists he had his phone in his lap. Yet, when the elder turns around and he’s met with lust-blown eyes and a familiar half-smirk, he doesn’t think it will be necessary. Swallowing thickly, Jongdae stands up on shaking legs and starts to follow the other members. Before he can get far, however, a hand grabs his elbow and he’s pushed back into the chair faster than he can realize what’s happening.
“Wha-“
“Jongdae’s having a little trouble,” Minseok calls, effectively cutting him off. “We’ll catch up in a few minutes.”
“What do you mean ‘trou-” He’s silenced once again by a hand on his mouth. Minseok brings a finger to his lips and watches over his shoulder as the others file out of the room, the staff shortly after. As soon as they’ve left he rushes to the door and flips the lock. Jongdae holds his breath as Minseok walks towards him, the elder’s footsteps being the only sound in the space. It feels like hours have passed by the time Minseok is finally standing before him again. Jongdae releases a breath and stares up at him, practically paralyzed in his seat
“Hyung,” he hisses as Minseok settles himself back in his lap. “What are you doing?”
Minseok ignores the question, instead trailing deft hands down to unzip Jongdae’s jeans. The younger stares up at him with wide eyes. Never had he thought the elder would consent to this, let alone instigate it. He lifts his hips unconsciously as said hands pull his trousers down his legs, revealing tight boxers made only tighter by his erection.
“Minseok.” He tries again, cheeks reddening when he sees his gaze is fixed on his crotch. Jongdae brings his hands up to rest on Minseok’s chest, prepared to push him away when the elder suddenly stands. Their eyes remain locked as he removes his pants, tossing them away to rest with the other pair. Within moments he’s straddling Jongdae, pressing himself forward until their lengths brush. He ruts forward experimentally, smirking when Jongdae groans against his shoulder. Minseok continues to buck his hips forward, relishing in every moan that escapes Jongdaes parted lips. He leans he head down and mouths along his neck, halting just above his collarbones to suck a mark into his skin. Jongdae lifts his own hips up to meet every rut and bump, trying not to scream from the sensory overload.
“I-I’m…” he manages, but the words are unnecessary when Minseok falters, all movements stuttering as he releases in his boxers, Jongdae’s name a whisper as he collapses onto the younger’s chest. Jongdae grunts, still painfully hard, and attempts to gain friction from Minseok’s spent form. With a few more thrusts against his thigh he’s pushed over the edge, breathing erratic as he comes down from his high
They remain slumped in the chair for what seems like ages, Minseok only sitting back when he remembers where they are. He stands with a grimace, pulling his boxers off and carefully lifting his jeans back on.
“Come on, the others are waiting.” Jongdae nods, dazed, and does the same. He isn’t quite sure what just happened, but as their hands intertwine and Minseok flashes him a small, secret smile, he can’t bring himself to care.