Take It Slow
Xiumin/Lu Han NC-17. And it really is art, the way Lu Han’s back arches, the way his hands scramble at the canvas, struggling to grip the material, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.
Part of the {heavily under construction} Polaroids & Paintbrushes series. pt. 1 pt. 7
Here in his loft apartment above the city, the sounds of cars muffled below, painting in pastels, like the calmest folk music and the nicest twinkling bells, Lu Han is content. Sometimes he paints landscapes, and sometimes he paints portraits. Somedays he paints Minseok, paints the image of the one person who fits with him. The only person who has ever fit in his loft, just as shy, just as reserved, placing soft kisses to the top of his head. Lu Han doesn't notice, too caught up in his work, too far away in a land of blue hues and sparkling paint brushes.
They sit on the dusty wooden floor of their loft, and Minseok takes his time, with a wash cloth and a loving gentle smile washing the paint off of lu Han --he's always been a messy painter-- ruffling the drying flecks out of his hair and setting up a makeshift table on the floor for the chinese take out he brought home with him.
Lu Han is in a calm, dreamy mood and Minseok goes along with it, forgetting about the meal as he leans forward to capture Lu Han's lips in his own because he's just so endeared by the sight before him, by the captivating boy with freckles of paint and messy golden brown hair.
They lay on the floor together, watching the ceiling in a comfortable silence, listening to the distant noises of life outside. Alone in their own little world, their own little haven as Lu Han rolls over top of Minseok, leaning down to kiss him. Minseok sighs and reaches a hand up to gently grip Lu Han’s nape, pads of his fingers drawing patterns as he sighs against Lu Han’s lips, readily accepting the tongue that enters, slow and languid.
They don’t have a care in the world right now, bills forgotten, pressing matters pushed back, and Minseok thinks he could stay here forever, the insistent but light press of Lu Han’s hips against his, the trails of tongue and teeth down his neck and across his chest.
Minseok’s breaths start to come out as stuttering gasps as Lu Han explores lower down his body, hands following his mouth, teeth scraping ever so lightly beneath Minseok’s belly button. He faintly registers Lu Han’s voice, breathless and quiet.
“I finished the big painting today, and I got an offer for a gallery. Isn’t that great Minseok?”
Minseok pushes Lu Han off of him to switch positions, the movement is sudden, Minseok crawling over his boyfriend and silently speaking his praise, through the press of his fingers and the swirl of his tongue.
Minseok whispers how proud he is, whispers how much he loves his baby boy, slipping his hands into Lu Han’s sweatpants, tugging and stroking overwhelmingly slow, fox-like features coming to life, grin loving and patient, but predatory when Lu Han breathes out his name in stuttered exhales.
I love you Minseok
And Minseok knows this, love him back, just as much if not more. He kisses him pliant, reduces Lu Han to a heavy breathing mess under him, hand still moving in rhythm, fingers still pressing into sensitive spots as he quietly speaks into Lu Han’s collarbones.
His hands gently tug off Lu Han’s clothes, boxers and all, fingers dancing up the back of Lu Han’s thighs, pressing teasingly at his entrance, circling but never going in. Lu Han keens, hips pushing back.
“In the purple bucket where the clean brushes are.” Lu Han manages to get out, whining at the loss of Minseok’s hand on his cock, propping himself up on his elbows in anticipation, and Minseok just stares for a moment, completely struck by his beauty. Lu Han looks ethereal, gorgeous under the the glow of the afternoon sun, cheeks flushed and mouth slightly open, tongue swishing across lips, hair tousled and falling into his eyes.
Lu Han smirks when he notices Minseok pause, beckons for him to hurry up, crooking a finger playfully at him. Minseok crawls across the floor towards him, maneuvering them onto an empty sheet of canvas, ignoring Lu Han’s shocked squawk at the mistreatment of art supplies hushing him, voice low, seductive, purring as he coats his fingers and eases the first one in.
“We can create our own art.” Minseok says casually as if talking about the weather, as if he doesn’t currently have a finger up Lu Han’s ass, pressing lips to the inside of his thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin as he adds a second one.
And it really is art, the way Lu Han’s back arches, the way his hands scramble at the canvas, struggling to grip the material, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.
Minseok pulls him close when they’re ready, pushes his tongue into Lu Han’s mouth as he enters him. And this is art too. The way Lu Han’s nails dig into his back, the way his breath hitches when Minseok sits back, pulling Lu Han into his lap.
“Ride me baby.” He says, breathing only slightly laboured. Lu Han’s eyes widen, but he also smiles, head falling onto Minseok’s shoulder as he lowers himself down.
There’s nothing rushed about this, Minseok holding Lu Han’s hips gently as his boyfriend lifts himself up, bringing himself down as slowly as possible, grinding his hips. They kiss sloppily as Lu Han begins to move and Minseok reminds him in between thrusting up, in between the sounds of Lu Han’s moans, how proud he is, how excited he is for their future. Lu Han chokes out a response, biting down on Minseoks shoulder when he feels a hand sneak it’s way down his front to squeeze, hips bucking, body seeming unsure of how to react.
“Come on darling.” Minseok hisses through his teeth, gasping with each thrust of his hips, meeting Lu Han’s halfway as his hand speeds up it’s work on his cock, thumb digging into the slit as he tugs.
Minseok comes first, rapidly stroking Lu Han to completion, the other spilling into his fist, collapsing into him, and they fall back onto the canvas. When Lu Han curls into his side, wraps around him, sticky and disgusting but beautiful, Minseok once again whispers praise. Lu Han smiles wide, eyes crinkling and laughter dancing around the airy room.
Minseok doesn’t know art like Lu Han does, can’t relate to the hours spent carefully, delicately creating pictures and abstract stories, but he does know how to appreciate it.
There’s art in Lu Han’s sparkling eyes looking into his own, and there’s art in the way his fingers drag themselves slowly through Minseok’s hair. There’s art in the way he kisses him, chaste and sweet.
“I love you.” Lu Han says quietly against his chest, and Minseok can feel the curve of his lips and he laughs, kissing the tip of Lu Han’s ear.
"I love you too."
Part of the {heavily under construction} Polaroids & Paintbrushes series. pt. 1 pt. 7
Here in his loft apartment above the city, the sounds of cars muffled below, painting in pastels, like the calmest folk music and the nicest twinkling bells, Lu Han is content. Sometimes he paints landscapes, and sometimes he paints portraits. Somedays he paints Minseok, paints the image of the one person who fits with him. The only person who has ever fit in his loft, just as shy, just as reserved, placing soft kisses to the top of his head. Lu Han doesn't notice, too caught up in his work, too far away in a land of blue hues and sparkling paint brushes.
They sit on the dusty wooden floor of their loft, and Minseok takes his time, with a wash cloth and a loving gentle smile washing the paint off of lu Han --he's always been a messy painter-- ruffling the drying flecks out of his hair and setting up a makeshift table on the floor for the chinese take out he brought home with him.
Lu Han is in a calm, dreamy mood and Minseok goes along with it, forgetting about the meal as he leans forward to capture Lu Han's lips in his own because he's just so endeared by the sight before him, by the captivating boy with freckles of paint and messy golden brown hair.
They lay on the floor together, watching the ceiling in a comfortable silence, listening to the distant noises of life outside. Alone in their own little world, their own little haven as Lu Han rolls over top of Minseok, leaning down to kiss him. Minseok sighs and reaches a hand up to gently grip Lu Han’s nape, pads of his fingers drawing patterns as he sighs against Lu Han’s lips, readily accepting the tongue that enters, slow and languid.
They don’t have a care in the world right now, bills forgotten, pressing matters pushed back, and Minseok thinks he could stay here forever, the insistent but light press of Lu Han’s hips against his, the trails of tongue and teeth down his neck and across his chest.
Minseok’s breaths start to come out as stuttering gasps as Lu Han explores lower down his body, hands following his mouth, teeth scraping ever so lightly beneath Minseok’s belly button. He faintly registers Lu Han’s voice, breathless and quiet.
“I finished the big painting today, and I got an offer for a gallery. Isn’t that great Minseok?”
Minseok pushes Lu Han off of him to switch positions, the movement is sudden, Minseok crawling over his boyfriend and silently speaking his praise, through the press of his fingers and the swirl of his tongue.
Minseok whispers how proud he is, whispers how much he loves his baby boy, slipping his hands into Lu Han’s sweatpants, tugging and stroking overwhelmingly slow, fox-like features coming to life, grin loving and patient, but predatory when Lu Han breathes out his name in stuttered exhales.
I love you Minseok
And Minseok knows this, love him back, just as much if not more. He kisses him pliant, reduces Lu Han to a heavy breathing mess under him, hand still moving in rhythm, fingers still pressing into sensitive spots as he quietly speaks into Lu Han’s collarbones.
His hands gently tug off Lu Han’s clothes, boxers and all, fingers dancing up the back of Lu Han’s thighs, pressing teasingly at his entrance, circling but never going in. Lu Han keens, hips pushing back.
“In the purple bucket where the clean brushes are.” Lu Han manages to get out, whining at the loss of Minseok’s hand on his cock, propping himself up on his elbows in anticipation, and Minseok just stares for a moment, completely struck by his beauty. Lu Han looks ethereal, gorgeous under the the glow of the afternoon sun, cheeks flushed and mouth slightly open, tongue swishing across lips, hair tousled and falling into his eyes.
Lu Han smirks when he notices Minseok pause, beckons for him to hurry up, crooking a finger playfully at him. Minseok crawls across the floor towards him, maneuvering them onto an empty sheet of canvas, ignoring Lu Han’s shocked squawk at the mistreatment of art supplies hushing him, voice low, seductive, purring as he coats his fingers and eases the first one in.
“We can create our own art.” Minseok says casually as if talking about the weather, as if he doesn’t currently have a finger up Lu Han’s ass, pressing lips to the inside of his thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin as he adds a second one.
And it really is art, the way Lu Han’s back arches, the way his hands scramble at the canvas, struggling to grip the material, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.
Minseok pulls him close when they’re ready, pushes his tongue into Lu Han’s mouth as he enters him. And this is art too. The way Lu Han’s nails dig into his back, the way his breath hitches when Minseok sits back, pulling Lu Han into his lap.
“Ride me baby.” He says, breathing only slightly laboured. Lu Han’s eyes widen, but he also smiles, head falling onto Minseok’s shoulder as he lowers himself down.
There’s nothing rushed about this, Minseok holding Lu Han’s hips gently as his boyfriend lifts himself up, bringing himself down as slowly as possible, grinding his hips. They kiss sloppily as Lu Han begins to move and Minseok reminds him in between thrusting up, in between the sounds of Lu Han’s moans, how proud he is, how excited he is for their future. Lu Han chokes out a response, biting down on Minseoks shoulder when he feels a hand sneak it’s way down his front to squeeze, hips bucking, body seeming unsure of how to react.
“Come on darling.” Minseok hisses through his teeth, gasping with each thrust of his hips, meeting Lu Han’s halfway as his hand speeds up it’s work on his cock, thumb digging into the slit as he tugs.
Minseok comes first, rapidly stroking Lu Han to completion, the other spilling into his fist, collapsing into him, and they fall back onto the canvas. When Lu Han curls into his side, wraps around him, sticky and disgusting but beautiful, Minseok once again whispers praise. Lu Han smiles wide, eyes crinkling and laughter dancing around the airy room.
Minseok doesn’t know art like Lu Han does, can’t relate to the hours spent carefully, delicately creating pictures and abstract stories, but he does know how to appreciate it.
There’s art in Lu Han’s sparkling eyes looking into his own, and there’s art in the way his fingers drag themselves slowly through Minseok’s hair. There’s art in the way he kisses him, chaste and sweet.
“I love you.” Lu Han says quietly against his chest, and Minseok can feel the curve of his lips and he laughs, kissing the tip of Lu Han’s ear.
"I love you too."