post #16

[exopromptmeme]

TL;DR RULES
1. post anonymously unless linking to a fill posted somewhere else
2. use the subject line to indicate pairing (in alphabetical order using stage names i.e.baekhyun/chanyeol) prompt details go in the comment.
3. use necessary content warnings
4. do not embed on meme. link to images/videos. label nsfw content.
5. do not repost prompts

Comments

I Want You In My Room (2/?)

[anonymous]

Ten minutes later and he’s in his room sitting on his bed, garment held up in one hand against his nose as the other strokes leisurely up and down his dick. He inhales deeply; it smells like pretty much like sweat, but it’s Chanyeol’s sweat and Jongin can imagine the scent around him, coming not from Chanyeol’s shirt, but from Chanyeol’s body as he ravishes Jongin. He quickens his hand’s pace, wrist twisting carefully around the heated flesh and he bites back a moan.

He takes another deep whiff and screws his eyes shut in pleasure, hand snapping up and down as his hips cant upwards.

His peripheral senses are dulled from pleasure, and Jongin doesn’t have time to react to the click of his door (that he’d forgotten to lock) opening.

“Hey, Jongin, do you have a shirt I can borrow? Mine went--oh, oh. Uh...”

Jongin freezes mid-stroke at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice. He doesn’t open his eyes, because maybe if he can’t see it then he can pretend that this isn’t happening. He can pretend that Chanyeol is not seeing him right now, hand still wrapped firmly around his dick and face still decidedly buried in Chanyeol’s t-shirt.

“Is...is that my shirt?”

Fuck.

Jongin opens his eyes, slowly, and turns his gaze upon Chanyeol, who is looking at him with an unreadable expression on his stupid, attractive face. He literally has no idea how to respond, and when he opens his mouth to say something, all that comes out is a weak croak from his suddenly dry throat. He hears Chanyeol give a laugh, a quiet huff of air and then he’s coming closer, right up to the edge of Jongin’s bed until he’s towering in front of him, looking down at him with hooded eyes that comes straight out of one of Jongin’s fantasies.

“I...can explain,” he finally forces words out of his mouth, but immediately wants to take them back, because how the fuck is he supposed to explain this?

“Can you now?” Chanyeol chuckles, voice suddenly lower and huskier. “Not gonna lie, you look pretty fucking sexy right now,” he says and Jongin looks at him with wide eyes, heart hammering in his chest, because Park Chanyeol did not just say those words to him with that voice. He didn’t, and Jongin is having some awful, awful sex dream again. Impossibly, more blood rushes southward and Jongin’s cock grows harder in his grasp.

“Uh--I’m--uh,” he stammers, finally letting go of both Chanyeol’s shirt and his dick, scrambling backwards on his bed, because Chanyeol suddenly leans forward and crawls over Jongin, gaze predatory and hair dripping water on Jongin’s chest. “What are you doing?” he asks. He’s sure he’s going to have an aneurysm.

“What does it look like?” Chanyeol answers, grinning wickedly down at Jongin. “Keep going,” he says, voice low and sultry.