exo; the maybe and the more
baeksoo. r. 892 words. kyungsoo and baekhyun cut class to go home and make out. (originally posted at exopromptmeme)
Kyungsoo knows Baekhyun’s been counting, because he has just come out of fourth period, slipped into the boys bathroom and tucked himself back in after pissing when the text bleeps into his phone. Kyungsoo knows he has roughly fortyfive seconds before a second, impatient, one will plop in after the first, and struggles to fish the phone out of his right pocket with his non-dicky left hand. It’s characteristically concise (the main reason behind Baekhyun’s ridiculous typing speed); ‘come out’
‘I have class.’ Kyungsoo notifies him.
He counts the seconds. 37 of them later; ‘i have strwbrry milk. better thn class’
And really, he has a point.
Three pm is a great time of the day. Not too early, not too late, the air is fresh and the sun still stands high but streets are calm and houses are empty, and it’s a great time to be lying on Baekhyun’s bed and sucking synthetic strawberry aroma off his thin, taut lips.
It’s like they today don’t seem to reach that urgent stage, the panting and sweating stage, the fumbling, fat-fingered hands stage - but instead have remained on a very comfortable level of small heat-waves down the collar, of a slight thickness of the chest and of slow pulls of the stomach, tightening firmly inwards and holding, for just a moment, maybe two. Instead of quickened breathing, it has slowed down, stretched out, lazier than usual, heavy and thorough.
They have done this a lot, know each other, are good at this now.
As with most things about Baekhyun, there is an arrogance to his kissing. He kisses like he wants to prove that he has seen the world and that he cares about nothing in it. Rolling flowing easy and nice, then sudden tight biting sucks and nails digging into Kyungsoo’s wrist. It amuses Kyungsoo more than anything else because that edge there, razor-sharp like Baekhyun himself, usually comes out more and more frequently a while in, when eyes are flicking and heads spinning and it’s increasingly harder to be and seem in control of things.
Kyungsoo has no such concerns. Kyungsoo kisses like he means it, because he knows that the ability to be swept away by things is a strength, not a weakness.
Baekhyun sits back with his knees on both sides of one of Kyungsoo’s and wrings his uniform jacket off. He grins down for a moment, tugging at the knot of his tie.
“You should think about this next time you’re sitting there doing algebra or whatever,” he says. “You should think about me.”
Kyungsoo’s stomach curls, not a lot but hotter than it should, especially when Baekhyun’s hair is on end and there’s two blotches of red on his cheeks and his grin is half and angled and stupidly self-satisfied. Kyungsoo pulls him down by the tie, coaxes his mouth open with a thumb across his cheek. Baekhyun lies more on top of him than beside him, presses him down, sucks tight biting sucks to Kyungsoo’s lips, upper, lower, lower and upper again. His hand wanders over Kyungsoo’s chest and undoes his jacket buttons, one by one, struggling at some but still working them open with one hand, with long nimble fingers. He touches Kyungsoo’s stomach over the t-shirt, runs his hand light down the inside of Kyungsoo’s thigh.
They haven’t actually gone past this over-the-clothes-petting stage, although there has been moments of touching and legs between legs and Grave Seriousness where Baekhyun looked up at him from under his bangs with his mouth a little open and both a distance and a focus in his eyes, more focused that Kyungsoo’s ever seen him, and it hit Kyungsoo too how real things suddenly can be.
It’s not that Baekhyun is afraid, not at all. Kyungsoo isn’t either. Not like that. But it’s a boundary to brave. Even at urgent times, even at shivering pulsing panting times. They have drawn it out until body is pressing tight against body without daring to move because where does that line lie anyway, does it budge when you push it, is it right to try. Have suddenly parted and gotten up and had to go into separate rooms for a while. Or just lied completely still next to each other, not daring to move because that line is really fucking close now, just lied still until it goes away. Have lied there with small twists in their bellies, part painful and part eager, at the realization that one day, it will happen, for real.
He does hitch a breath when Baekhyun actually works the shirt out from under the waistband and slides cold fingers through the soft strands of hair under Kyungsoo’s bellybutton. Kyungsoo’s stomach pulls in, tightens, holds, two moments, three. Baekhyun’s opened mouth breathes lazy and thorough against his collarbone. Soon the hand moves, slides down, comes to rest over Kyungsoo’s fly, just lying there and he feels the pressure through the pants (knows that Baekhyun can feel the shape and the heat underneath,) but just lies there, soft, still, natural.
Then Baekhyun looks up at him. Kyungsoo looks back for a while. And then Baekhyun grins, that half grin spreading to a whole, and removes his hand. Kisses him again. Kyungsoo grins too, winds arms around his neck, plays with his tongue.
Today is not the day.
Kyungsoo knows Baekhyun’s been counting, because he has just come out of fourth period, slipped into the boys bathroom and tucked himself back in after pissing when the text bleeps into his phone. Kyungsoo knows he has roughly fortyfive seconds before a second, impatient, one will plop in after the first, and struggles to fish the phone out of his right pocket with his non-dicky left hand. It’s characteristically concise (the main reason behind Baekhyun’s ridiculous typing speed); ‘come out’
‘I have class.’ Kyungsoo notifies him.
He counts the seconds. 37 of them later; ‘i have strwbrry milk. better thn class’
And really, he has a point.
Three pm is a great time of the day. Not too early, not too late, the air is fresh and the sun still stands high but streets are calm and houses are empty, and it’s a great time to be lying on Baekhyun’s bed and sucking synthetic strawberry aroma off his thin, taut lips.
It’s like they today don’t seem to reach that urgent stage, the panting and sweating stage, the fumbling, fat-fingered hands stage - but instead have remained on a very comfortable level of small heat-waves down the collar, of a slight thickness of the chest and of slow pulls of the stomach, tightening firmly inwards and holding, for just a moment, maybe two. Instead of quickened breathing, it has slowed down, stretched out, lazier than usual, heavy and thorough.
They have done this a lot, know each other, are good at this now.
As with most things about Baekhyun, there is an arrogance to his kissing. He kisses like he wants to prove that he has seen the world and that he cares about nothing in it. Rolling flowing easy and nice, then sudden tight biting sucks and nails digging into Kyungsoo’s wrist. It amuses Kyungsoo more than anything else because that edge there, razor-sharp like Baekhyun himself, usually comes out more and more frequently a while in, when eyes are flicking and heads spinning and it’s increasingly harder to be and seem in control of things.
Kyungsoo has no such concerns. Kyungsoo kisses like he means it, because he knows that the ability to be swept away by things is a strength, not a weakness.
Baekhyun sits back with his knees on both sides of one of Kyungsoo’s and wrings his uniform jacket off. He grins down for a moment, tugging at the knot of his tie.
“You should think about this next time you’re sitting there doing algebra or whatever,” he says. “You should think about me.”
Kyungsoo’s stomach curls, not a lot but hotter than it should, especially when Baekhyun’s hair is on end and there’s two blotches of red on his cheeks and his grin is half and angled and stupidly self-satisfied. Kyungsoo pulls him down by the tie, coaxes his mouth open with a thumb across his cheek. Baekhyun lies more on top of him than beside him, presses him down, sucks tight biting sucks to Kyungsoo’s lips, upper, lower, lower and upper again. His hand wanders over Kyungsoo’s chest and undoes his jacket buttons, one by one, struggling at some but still working them open with one hand, with long nimble fingers. He touches Kyungsoo’s stomach over the t-shirt, runs his hand light down the inside of Kyungsoo’s thigh.
They haven’t actually gone past this over-the-clothes-petting stage, although there has been moments of touching and legs between legs and Grave Seriousness where Baekhyun looked up at him from under his bangs with his mouth a little open and both a distance and a focus in his eyes, more focused that Kyungsoo’s ever seen him, and it hit Kyungsoo too how real things suddenly can be.
It’s not that Baekhyun is afraid, not at all. Kyungsoo isn’t either. Not like that. But it’s a boundary to brave. Even at urgent times, even at shivering pulsing panting times. They have drawn it out until body is pressing tight against body without daring to move because where does that line lie anyway, does it budge when you push it, is it right to try. Have suddenly parted and gotten up and had to go into separate rooms for a while. Or just lied completely still next to each other, not daring to move because that line is really fucking close now, just lied still until it goes away. Have lied there with small twists in their bellies, part painful and part eager, at the realization that one day, it will happen, for real.
He does hitch a breath when Baekhyun actually works the shirt out from under the waistband and slides cold fingers through the soft strands of hair under Kyungsoo’s bellybutton. Kyungsoo’s stomach pulls in, tightens, holds, two moments, three. Baekhyun’s opened mouth breathes lazy and thorough against his collarbone. Soon the hand moves, slides down, comes to rest over Kyungsoo’s fly, just lying there and he feels the pressure through the pants (knows that Baekhyun can feel the shape and the heat underneath,) but just lies there, soft, still, natural.
Then Baekhyun looks up at him. Kyungsoo looks back for a while. And then Baekhyun grins, that half grin spreading to a whole, and removes his hand. Kisses him again. Kyungsoo grins too, winds arms around his neck, plays with his tongue.
Today is not the day.