fic: Dig Bicks -4/?-
Title: Dig Bicks
Author: dria1029
Pairings: Taemin-centric/ot5/Ontae
Genre: Comedy/Supernatural
Warnings: I am a big kid. I laugh at sexual words. Lol but yeah. Boy sex. Language. The whole shibang
Rating: NC-17
Summary: SHINee’s maknae learns a very important lesson after being cursed by a male prostitute
Word Count: Ongoing
a/n: I shouldn't even ask anymore
Two fucking weeks
What the fuck…was he supposed to do with two weeks?
“We can just tell manager-hyung you’ve come down with laryngitis,” Minho suggests nonchalantly, a rational idea that sounds as good as any. He’d be depending on that cover like an IV shoved in his arm.
Still didn’t change the fact that….fuck, two weeks.
Two weeks of dragging his knuckles. Dead man walking. The condemned. A turkey regretting eating that extra pound of feed at the end of October.
And the more he thought about it, he really was a jive turkey for treating X like that. Not only had he insulted him, he hadn’t apologized. Okay, and yeah, he tossed the money at him, yeah, that too-Taemin would forget about that part intentionally, as his guilty conscious had limited capacity. What with the short supply of fucks to distribute. He’d give the voodoo man the first two. (Lucky he was even getting that.)
“But how long does it usually la-
“He has up to two weeks. Any further than that signifies it’s serious,” Jinki interjected, his cheek pregnant with lollipop. “But the problem with that is convincing everyone he has it. There are more symptoms than just a sore throat.”
“Why do we even keep encyclopedias in this damn dorm?”
“For when I’m asleep and Google is down.”
“So you’re saying we just need him to act it out until he’s cured?”
With the help of the leader’s tongue, the lollipop stick twisted until it was pointing in Taemin’s general direction. He locked a meaningful gaze with the tired boy. “If whatever this is...is treatable.”
“Big d….big dicks?”
Jinki blinked. A hardened jaw.
“…..big dicks.”
And Taemin sulked further, avoiding the piecing stare.
Yep, two grueling weeks.
Fourteen days in which Detective Lee would emerge from the ashes of the Sherlock era and try to grille the shit out of him.
Since Jinki knows better-always.
Not a good thing most times. Now? Really not. Not when the man who’s best at probing into you (no Tae, no) sniffs a rat.
Definitely not the man who knows everything in world, including that a certain homoerotic-crazed turned hetero He-Man wanna-be still slides him the hot eye when his thang slings around after a shower-the man who almost maternally remembers to buy an extra cucumber for when he knows he, Jonghyun, Key and Minho will be out drinking for a long time. Leaving the itchy maknae utterly alone.
“…..utilize his acting skills.”
“Aish, just the kind of hiccup we need!”
“Calm down Jonghyun,” Key sighed.
“Seriously though! They are still going to be suspicious as fuck-more than we are about how it happened in the first place…and you all know this! This little chicken shit can’t just turn up with laryngitis now, we have promos remember!?”
“Big dicks.”
“Shut up!”
“Big DICKS!”
“There’s no point in arguing about it no matter how you look at it. He can’t stop saying uhm, er, ‘BD’. What use would he be on a radio broadcast anyway?”
“I don’t…ughhhh!” Growling, Jonghyun began to hurl the stereo remote at Taemin’s head, only ceasing (and resisting still) when Minho pounced on him. Taemin merely rolled his eyes. His quills somewhat flattened back against his skin. “Big dicks…big dicks big dicks,” he complained, hugging his knees on the Lazy Boy. Who deserved this kind of torture anyway? he bemoaned, casting an eye over them all, Jongho flailing and fighting over the remote, Key blushing and squeezing his thighs together inconspicuously (or so he thought) because frankly, Taemin’s low groan of those two infamous words had no business echoing in his ears…with how long it had been since he got some and all.
As Taemin lowered his glance from the dreamy, buzzed look of the blonde, of course the last person was staring at him. Naturally.
He felt it. Under the same refusal of looking him in the eye.
Uh huh.
Two weeks.
He sucked up the rest of his spiked chocolate milk noisily and sunk deeper into his shell.
*****
Nega-fucking-tory.
He couldn’t do this after all.
Not that he thought he could in the first place.
It was just that he thought -okay, like how everyone occasionally tends to psych themselves out about not being about to deal with or do something and ended up overcoming after all-he thought it was some Disney Channel movie shit like that.
Well, wrong wasn’t even the word. Not even dead wrong. He was afterlife wrong and then some.
Residing with four of the Republic of Korea’s most asinine jerks and prohibited from escaping into his mother’s arms; how could he expect to make it two weeks?
Only another week in. And Taemin was really finding out how his hyungs were the ‘biggest dicks’ of all. No amount of ornery prank pulling and pinkened whites in the laundry would ease his pain either.
He could only vow that if (when) he got through this debacle, if any of those skid marks were suddenly pitted into a situation as dire as his, he’d leave them more high and dry than a camel’s pussy.
Already they catch him off guard with the fastball questions.
A “Hey Tae where’s my hair brush?” slicked in here, a yelled, “Taemin where the fuck are you?” there when someone walks through the front door-followed with an equally loud guffaw after he (Taemin) acknowledges who it is the way he usually does, which is usually along the lines of, “I’m here, why the fuck are you yelling!?” (“Big dicks big dicks, big dicks big dicks big dicks big dicks big dicks big dicks!?”)
Why the maknae let himself fall for Minho’s “classic I Love Lucy rendition” every time, he didn’t know. He literally slapped himself for falling for it once; not realizing his own strength in his irritated state.
And effectively knocking himself into the wall.
What was worse, though, was when that point in time came where Jongho banded together (even a traitorous Key once a in a blue harvest moon) to turn him into a discombobulated mess. The times they would rush in and ask and/or say something they knew he was inclined to respond to, and Taemin would end up red and stuttering something like, “Big di-BIG DICKS-b-big di-bbi di-uuuuuggghhh!”; which was a clear indication of him catching himself, cursing, catching himself cursing, and turning into a sputtering fool that added fuel to his own campfire.
It would eventually lead to him wising up. Saying nothing at all if he could help it
Along with silence being golden for the moment, nonetheless, Taemin was sure round house kicks to the mouth would be platinum. He decided quickly he didn’t like having to be quiet around them. Not being able to snap back vs lashing back even nastier was taking its tool because his anger inched higher than humanly possible. Shouting the synonym to gargantuan wieners and large cocks wasn’t going to do him any justice besides him getting eyefuls of index fingers trembling in laughter.
Was getting pretty soggy, having to keep reminding himself that at least his thoughts weren’t filtered, leaning on that bittersweet scrap of consolation all the time.
Yet if it wasn’t that, hyung whores would be laughing in face about the cruel irony of his ‘handicap’ since he claimed to be vouching only for vagina these days.
Not really knowing, but also knowing whatever got him into this mess was obviously gay.
But the most terrifying thing by far?
“Big...dicks,” Taemin moaned into his arm, his abdomen contracting the more he was stretched.
The worst thing of all?
An open, impressively deep, “Ah~” followed in agreement. With a light slap to the maknae’s thigh, the “detective” suddenly plunged in all the way and began to thrust so shortly that barely an inch of his glistening, tightly-veined cock was seen emerging from the blushing peach of Taemin’s ass. As would be expected from such a change, from being packed up to his ears with the largest dong in the dorm, Taemin’s reaction was to moan louder, almost shrilly, and accept the strength-stripping shudder that racked from scalp to sack.
The shittiest, most unfair situation ever?
Jinki put his hands on his wet hips and smiled a tired, victorious smile, head rolling down to watch his work; darkened, sweaty strands of hair slicked his forehead. The efforts of the turned up TV thwarted with the continuous slaps, pops and hums of his “interrogation session” with his youngest best friend.
This.
Shit.
Here.
Taemin’s teeth clenched as one particular thrust practically knocked the cum out of his balls, sending some of it to drizzle out of his purpled dick. He’d already had two orgasms-and due to the fatigue in his limbs, the punch in his spine, and near numbness of lower body, he knew he couldn’t take much more after this round.
Oh, but he only had himself to blame. (Nothing new there right?)
Holding out, starving himself, letting the urge build up -this was bound to happen.
Not even hesitating to accept the first offer thrown to him though it was painfully, obviously laced with an ulterior motive-also bound to happen.
Using someone’s itch to his advantage, well, that usually wasn’t Jinki’s style.
Then again…when had the man ever been denied or been the one to deny? When had Taemin ever been close to putting his foot down to his favorite hyung?
“Big dicks,” he slurred-dreamily a second time. Inhaling his inflamed bottom lip the closer he came. For the nth time, ignoring how fucking redundant this whole thing was for slap-you-in-the-face reasons.
“Yeah Taemin-ah, go on. Tell hyung how you want it,” Jinki laughed in that sexy douche-bag laugh of his.
Prompting Taemin to soften at the slightest and roll his eyes; his next moan totally unrelated to how fucking righteous his body felt that moment. Yeah, Jinki too. Dear old Jinki who couldn’t help but pass up a good “very funny, that’s what she said” opportunity.
“Big dicks. Big dicks big dicks.”
“What’s that? You want what?” He snickered lowly.
“BIG DICKS.”
“Here? Like this?” Jinki rammed his hips up into the younger boy, sending his head into the wall with a small thud. As Taemin faced him angrily (the inner slut in the spark of his eye kinda lessening the edge to his glare, let’s be honest) the leader grinned. “Ah well. I guess we can’t get any more specific, can we?”
Seriously, fuck you. I swear if you didn’t fill my ass like you do and you weren’t such a cute shit I’d…
“My face is melting Minnie. I thought we agreed to play nice?” His short chuckle expired abruptly with darkening pupils and a rough voice, fisting Taemin’s hair. “Now face forward,” he sang darkly, making the boy cry out upon forcing his head straight.
“I didn’t agree to anything bitch ass,” was Taemin’s defiant, delayed response in his head moments later as his body rocked.in sync to the creaking mattress and his hisses of blinding pleasure. Pouting, he reached down to stroke himself vigorously until Jinki’s final, bone rattling thrust sent him over the edge, his climax rising and rising and (damn) rising for a long time before he came crashing down; a cracked shout shaking the walls as he came in thick, hot spurts and fell flat on the bed, heart rate so close to an unhealthy red zone, deafening him so that he barely heard Jinki curse in his own release.
However, about half an hour after their first “talk”, the memory of a commemorable fuck by his “good cop bad cop” was long down the hole for Taemin. Still naked, Jinki’s coagulated milk still leaking from his ass, the maknae lay where he collapsed with his head propped in the other’s direction; Jinki was freshly showered and dressed by this time. Mouth moving. Asking the same questions, trying to evoke a sign-language response from his frowning dongsaeng.
Because yeah. Fucking typical that the dorm’s brainiac find another method of communication and force it upon him once it was proven efficient. (It’s why Taemin made sure, with every burning fiber of his brattitude, that he only learned negative words and phrases in the short time that had passed.)
“Are you really not going to tell me?” the leader sighed eventually -conveniently placed after his threat of stalking Taemin for the rest of his days-, crossing his arms the same way his legs were crossed on the floor.
Without blinking an eye, the younger continued to glare at him and sat up enough to make a quick sign. I hate you
“Taemin-ah.”
Hate you
“Ta-
But that’s as far as he got before the smaller boy leapt up, made a “cross” ward sign that he violently beat back and forth in Jinki’s face, and disappeared into the bathroom with a slammed, locked door. (Perhaps the fifth one to be replaced. They lost count.)
Estimating that the dancer’s anger had subsided some when two minutes passed, the leader got to his feet with another frustrated sigh, about to knock…when he heard faint, uncontrollable giggles coming from behind the bedroom door. And wordlessly stormed over, snatched it open and scowled down as dweedle dee and dwiddle dum fell in screaming like the knock kneed church girls they were giggling as.
“I told you he wouldn’t be able to do it this time,” came Jonghyun’s muffle, his mouth full of floor.
Minho grinned up, punching the back of Jonghyun’s head: “Hi Hyung.”
Jinki only shook his head in disgust and stepped over them. On second thought, kicking both of them in the ass to make himself feel better and pulling out a wedgie on his way to the kitchen.
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Author: dria1029
Pairings: Taemin-centric/ot5/Ontae
Genre: Comedy/Supernatural
Warnings: I am a big kid. I laugh at sexual words. Lol but yeah. Boy sex. Language. The whole shibang
Rating: NC-17
Summary: SHINee’s maknae learns a very important lesson after being cursed by a male prostitute
Word Count: Ongoing
a/n: I shouldn't even ask anymore
Two fucking weeks
What the fuck…was he supposed to do with two weeks?
“We can just tell manager-hyung you’ve come down with laryngitis,” Minho suggests nonchalantly, a rational idea that sounds as good as any. He’d be depending on that cover like an IV shoved in his arm.
Still didn’t change the fact that….fuck, two weeks.
Two weeks of dragging his knuckles. Dead man walking. The condemned. A turkey regretting eating that extra pound of feed at the end of October.
And the more he thought about it, he really was a jive turkey for treating X like that. Not only had he insulted him, he hadn’t apologized. Okay, and yeah, he tossed the money at him, yeah, that too-Taemin would forget about that part intentionally, as his guilty conscious had limited capacity. What with the short supply of fucks to distribute. He’d give the voodoo man the first two. (Lucky he was even getting that.)
“But how long does it usually la-
“He has up to two weeks. Any further than that signifies it’s serious,” Jinki interjected, his cheek pregnant with lollipop. “But the problem with that is convincing everyone he has it. There are more symptoms than just a sore throat.”
“Why do we even keep encyclopedias in this damn dorm?”
“For when I’m asleep and Google is down.”
“So you’re saying we just need him to act it out until he’s cured?”
With the help of the leader’s tongue, the lollipop stick twisted until it was pointing in Taemin’s general direction. He locked a meaningful gaze with the tired boy. “If whatever this is...is treatable.”
“Big d….big dicks?”
Jinki blinked. A hardened jaw.
“…..big dicks.”
And Taemin sulked further, avoiding the piecing stare.
Yep, two grueling weeks.
Fourteen days in which Detective Lee would emerge from the ashes of the Sherlock era and try to grille the shit out of him.
Since Jinki knows better-always.
Not a good thing most times. Now? Really not. Not when the man who’s best at probing into you (no Tae, no) sniffs a rat.
Definitely not the man who knows everything in world, including that a certain homoerotic-crazed turned hetero He-Man wanna-be still slides him the hot eye when his thang slings around after a shower-the man who almost maternally remembers to buy an extra cucumber for when he knows he, Jonghyun, Key and Minho will be out drinking for a long time. Leaving the itchy maknae utterly alone.
“…..utilize his acting skills.”
“Aish, just the kind of hiccup we need!”
“Calm down Jonghyun,” Key sighed.
“Seriously though! They are still going to be suspicious as fuck-more than we are about how it happened in the first place…and you all know this! This little chicken shit can’t just turn up with laryngitis now, we have promos remember!?”
“Big dicks.”
“Shut up!”
“Big DICKS!”
“There’s no point in arguing about it no matter how you look at it. He can’t stop saying uhm, er, ‘BD’. What use would he be on a radio broadcast anyway?”
“I don’t…ughhhh!” Growling, Jonghyun began to hurl the stereo remote at Taemin’s head, only ceasing (and resisting still) when Minho pounced on him. Taemin merely rolled his eyes. His quills somewhat flattened back against his skin. “Big dicks…big dicks big dicks,” he complained, hugging his knees on the Lazy Boy. Who deserved this kind of torture anyway? he bemoaned, casting an eye over them all, Jongho flailing and fighting over the remote, Key blushing and squeezing his thighs together inconspicuously (or so he thought) because frankly, Taemin’s low groan of those two infamous words had no business echoing in his ears…with how long it had been since he got some and all.
As Taemin lowered his glance from the dreamy, buzzed look of the blonde, of course the last person was staring at him. Naturally.
He felt it. Under the same refusal of looking him in the eye.
Uh huh.
Two weeks.
He sucked up the rest of his spiked chocolate milk noisily and sunk deeper into his shell.
*****
Nega-fucking-tory.
He couldn’t do this after all.
Not that he thought he could in the first place.
It was just that he thought -okay, like how everyone occasionally tends to psych themselves out about not being about to deal with or do something and ended up overcoming after all-he thought it was some Disney Channel movie shit like that.
Well, wrong wasn’t even the word. Not even dead wrong. He was afterlife wrong and then some.
Residing with four of the Republic of Korea’s most asinine jerks and prohibited from escaping into his mother’s arms; how could he expect to make it two weeks?
Only another week in. And Taemin was really finding out how his hyungs were the ‘biggest dicks’ of all. No amount of ornery prank pulling and pinkened whites in the laundry would ease his pain either.
He could only vow that if (when) he got through this debacle, if any of those skid marks were suddenly pitted into a situation as dire as his, he’d leave them more high and dry than a camel’s pussy.
Already they catch him off guard with the fastball questions.
A “Hey Tae where’s my hair brush?” slicked in here, a yelled, “Taemin where the fuck are you?” there when someone walks through the front door-followed with an equally loud guffaw after he (Taemin) acknowledges who it is the way he usually does, which is usually along the lines of, “I’m here, why the fuck are you yelling!?” (“Big dicks big dicks, big dicks big dicks big dicks big dicks big dicks big dicks!?”)
Why the maknae let himself fall for Minho’s “classic I Love Lucy rendition” every time, he didn’t know. He literally slapped himself for falling for it once; not realizing his own strength in his irritated state.
And effectively knocking himself into the wall.
What was worse, though, was when that point in time came where Jongho banded together (even a traitorous Key once a in a blue harvest moon) to turn him into a discombobulated mess. The times they would rush in and ask and/or say something they knew he was inclined to respond to, and Taemin would end up red and stuttering something like, “Big di-BIG DICKS-b-big di-bbi di-uuuuuggghhh!”; which was a clear indication of him catching himself, cursing, catching himself cursing, and turning into a sputtering fool that added fuel to his own campfire.
It would eventually lead to him wising up. Saying nothing at all if he could help it
Along with silence being golden for the moment, nonetheless, Taemin was sure round house kicks to the mouth would be platinum. He decided quickly he didn’t like having to be quiet around them. Not being able to snap back vs lashing back even nastier was taking its tool because his anger inched higher than humanly possible. Shouting the synonym to gargantuan wieners and large cocks wasn’t going to do him any justice besides him getting eyefuls of index fingers trembling in laughter.
Was getting pretty soggy, having to keep reminding himself that at least his thoughts weren’t filtered, leaning on that bittersweet scrap of consolation all the time.
Yet if it wasn’t that, hyung whores would be laughing in face about the cruel irony of his ‘handicap’ since he claimed to be vouching only for vagina these days.
Not really knowing, but also knowing whatever got him into this mess was obviously gay.
But the most terrifying thing by far?
“Big...dicks,” Taemin moaned into his arm, his abdomen contracting the more he was stretched.
The worst thing of all?
An open, impressively deep, “Ah~” followed in agreement. With a light slap to the maknae’s thigh, the “detective” suddenly plunged in all the way and began to thrust so shortly that barely an inch of his glistening, tightly-veined cock was seen emerging from the blushing peach of Taemin’s ass. As would be expected from such a change, from being packed up to his ears with the largest dong in the dorm, Taemin’s reaction was to moan louder, almost shrilly, and accept the strength-stripping shudder that racked from scalp to sack.
The shittiest, most unfair situation ever?
Jinki put his hands on his wet hips and smiled a tired, victorious smile, head rolling down to watch his work; darkened, sweaty strands of hair slicked his forehead. The efforts of the turned up TV thwarted with the continuous slaps, pops and hums of his “interrogation session” with his youngest best friend.
This.
Shit.
Here.
Taemin’s teeth clenched as one particular thrust practically knocked the cum out of his balls, sending some of it to drizzle out of his purpled dick. He’d already had two orgasms-and due to the fatigue in his limbs, the punch in his spine, and near numbness of lower body, he knew he couldn’t take much more after this round.
Oh, but he only had himself to blame. (Nothing new there right?)
Holding out, starving himself, letting the urge build up -this was bound to happen.
Not even hesitating to accept the first offer thrown to him though it was painfully, obviously laced with an ulterior motive-also bound to happen.
Using someone’s itch to his advantage, well, that usually wasn’t Jinki’s style.
Then again…when had the man ever been denied or been the one to deny? When had Taemin ever been close to putting his foot down to his favorite hyung?
“Big dicks,” he slurred-dreamily a second time. Inhaling his inflamed bottom lip the closer he came. For the nth time, ignoring how fucking redundant this whole thing was for slap-you-in-the-face reasons.
“Yeah Taemin-ah, go on. Tell hyung how you want it,” Jinki laughed in that sexy douche-bag laugh of his.
Prompting Taemin to soften at the slightest and roll his eyes; his next moan totally unrelated to how fucking righteous his body felt that moment. Yeah, Jinki too. Dear old Jinki who couldn’t help but pass up a good “very funny, that’s what she said” opportunity.
“Big dicks. Big dicks big dicks.”
“What’s that? You want what?” He snickered lowly.
“BIG DICKS.”
“Here? Like this?” Jinki rammed his hips up into the younger boy, sending his head into the wall with a small thud. As Taemin faced him angrily (the inner slut in the spark of his eye kinda lessening the edge to his glare, let’s be honest) the leader grinned. “Ah well. I guess we can’t get any more specific, can we?”
Seriously, fuck you. I swear if you didn’t fill my ass like you do and you weren’t such a cute shit I’d…
“My face is melting Minnie. I thought we agreed to play nice?” His short chuckle expired abruptly with darkening pupils and a rough voice, fisting Taemin’s hair. “Now face forward,” he sang darkly, making the boy cry out upon forcing his head straight.
“I didn’t agree to anything bitch ass,” was Taemin’s defiant, delayed response in his head moments later as his body rocked.in sync to the creaking mattress and his hisses of blinding pleasure. Pouting, he reached down to stroke himself vigorously until Jinki’s final, bone rattling thrust sent him over the edge, his climax rising and rising and (damn) rising for a long time before he came crashing down; a cracked shout shaking the walls as he came in thick, hot spurts and fell flat on the bed, heart rate so close to an unhealthy red zone, deafening him so that he barely heard Jinki curse in his own release.
However, about half an hour after their first “talk”, the memory of a commemorable fuck by his “good cop bad cop” was long down the hole for Taemin. Still naked, Jinki’s coagulated milk still leaking from his ass, the maknae lay where he collapsed with his head propped in the other’s direction; Jinki was freshly showered and dressed by this time. Mouth moving. Asking the same questions, trying to evoke a sign-language response from his frowning dongsaeng.
Because yeah. Fucking typical that the dorm’s brainiac find another method of communication and force it upon him once it was proven efficient. (It’s why Taemin made sure, with every burning fiber of his brattitude, that he only learned negative words and phrases in the short time that had passed.)
“Are you really not going to tell me?” the leader sighed eventually -conveniently placed after his threat of stalking Taemin for the rest of his days-, crossing his arms the same way his legs were crossed on the floor.
Without blinking an eye, the younger continued to glare at him and sat up enough to make a quick sign. I hate you
“Taemin-ah.”
Hate you
“Ta-
But that’s as far as he got before the smaller boy leapt up, made a “cross” ward sign that he violently beat back and forth in Jinki’s face, and disappeared into the bathroom with a slammed, locked door. (Perhaps the fifth one to be replaced. They lost count.)
Estimating that the dancer’s anger had subsided some when two minutes passed, the leader got to his feet with another frustrated sigh, about to knock…when he heard faint, uncontrollable giggles coming from behind the bedroom door. And wordlessly stormed over, snatched it open and scowled down as dweedle dee and dwiddle dum fell in screaming like the knock kneed church girls they were giggling as.
“I told you he wouldn’t be able to do it this time,” came Jonghyun’s muffle, his mouth full of floor.
Minho grinned up, punching the back of Jonghyun’s head: “Hi Hyung.”
Jinki only shook his head in disgust and stepped over them. On second thought, kicking both of them in the ass to make himself feel better and pulling out a wedgie on his way to the kitchen.
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