The Clothes that Make the Man - JE - NC-17
Authors: shatteredinu and anamuan
Title: The Clothes that Make the Man
Pairing: pin
Word Count: 2,092
Rating: sex
Summary: Jin came out of the living room. He wasn't wearing a skirt.
A/N: Why yuuchan and I shouldn't be allowed to speak to each other, for the good of fandom. This spawned from talk of the practical difficulties of undoing someone's pants with one's mouth. Quick once-over and title suggestions by jadedfrenzy because she is as awesome as we pretend to be.
Jin to Yamapi
6:38 pm
Are you coming home soon?
Yamapi to Jin
6:42 pm
...tell me you're not wearing a skirt again.
Jin to Yamapi:
6:45 pm
I'm not wearing a skirt again.
Yamapi to Jin
6:46 pm
promise? I don't trust you.
Jin to Yamapi
6:53 pm
I promise! I promise. I am not wearing a skirt. Now are you coming home soon?
Yamapi to Jin
6:57 pm
about halfway there. see you in half an hour.
Yamapi let himself into the apartment with a sense of relief. It had been a long day at the end of a trying week.
It had started with a blowjob. Or rather, it hadn't started with a blowjob--they'd never really gotten that far. It was something Yamapi had seen, some porno that hadn't been very good--but the way the girl had undone the guy's jeans entirely with her mouth, that had been sexy. And, well. Jin had never been opposed to trying new things. Of course, if Yamapi had known how much of a disaster it would be, he never would have mentioned it in the first place.
The striptease had gone okay. It would have been worrisome if it hadn’t---they were trained in stripping at work, after all. He hadn’t told Jin what he’d been planning, and Jin had been happy to recline on the bed, avidly watching Yamapi’s swaying body and golden skin, slowly being revealed to him. No, there definitely hadn’t been a problem with the stripping. It was when Yamapi had climbed on the bed and begun to kiss his way down to Jin’s jeans that the problems had begun.
It was just that the girl had made it look so easy. Yamapi hadn’t anticipated any problems when he’d dipped his head down, but he should have known by the loud clink of his tooth banging against the metal button that things weren’t going to go as smoothly as they’d hoped. Jin hadn’t tried to help him, only letting out an erratic moan here and there because, hey, Yamapi’s mouth was on his crotch. But tugging the thick jean material over the metal button had been harder than he thought, and after a few tries, he had to pull back, huffing in frustration.
“Do you need some help?” Jin had asked breathlessly, but Yamapi had just growled stubbornly. If a girl in a porn movie could do it, he could too. So he had lowered his head again, trying futilely to just sort of shove the button through the hole with his teeth. All that did was hurt his teeth. He had tried to get at the zipper instead, but there was something weird about the metal, and he'd yelped as he felt his tongue catch on something, getting painfully stuck for a moment. He had managed to get free, thankfully, but his mumbles about hurting his tongue hadn't been clear--considering he'd been trying to say it without using said body part. Eventually, after some more useless yet valiant tugs, he had been forced to lean back again with a frustrated whine. When he glanced at Jin, seeing the amusement on his face, he pouted, glaring down at Jin's crotch.
"It looked easier in the movie!" Yamapi had complained--or rather, struggled to complain, due to his sore tongue--and by then Jin had lost enough of his arousal to stare at Yamapi incredulously.
"You got this idea from a movie?" Jin had demanded, and, needless to say, that conversation hadn't ended in a blowjob. Instead, it had ended in Yamapi banning Jin from wearing pants with buttons, or zippers, or anything that was difficult to undo with his mouth.
Jin had not taken kindly to Yamapi's prohibition on him wearing 'jeans. Make that pants of any kind with a button' and had retaliated by wearing nothing but skirts at home all week. Short skirts, full of ruffles and stiff with tulle; soft, satiny skirts that were heaven against his skin as he pressed into Jin; or teasing silk skirts that slipped maddeningly along his thighs as Jin fucked him. It had, understandably, been driving him crazy and it was the end of the week and while the sex was mind-blowing, Yamapi was tired. Yamapi also kind of suspected that if they had sex on the coffee table one more time it would break.
Jin came out of the living room. He wasn't wearing a skirt.
He was wearing a dress. If you could call it that. It was the shortest dress Yamapi had ever seen, hemline brushing high on Jin's thighs. The dress had practically no back, a double-tie coming up from the center to tie around his throat. The cut looked good on him even though he wasn't wearing a stuffed bra this time, and the slim dark tie around his neck drew Yamapi's eyes straight there. It was tight at the waist and flared out over his hips, the whole thing a deep, bright blue-green that set off the creamy skin of Jin's thighs. It made Pi think about how Jin's thighs would look wrapped around his waist, pale against his tan skin.
"Fuck, Jin, you told me you weren't in a skirt."
Jin ran a hand down from his exposed collarbones across the front of his chest and down his thigh to the hemline. "It's a dress, Pi. And they call me stupid." Yamapi dragged his eyes from where Jin's hand hovered around the bottom of the dress and the tops of his thighs up to Jin's face. Jin's smirk was totally not helping.
"Jin, I don't want to buy a new coffee table."
For the first time all night, Jin didn't look like the visual dictionary entry for 'smug.' "Buy a new coffee...?" he trailed off.
"The coffee table is not that sturdy. And it's closer than the couch. And a hell of a lot closer than the bed. So because I don't want to buy a new coffee table, you need to go change. Right. Now."
Somewhere in the back of his head, a little cog turned over--Yamapi could practically see it happening--and the mostly nonsensical babble about coffee tables started to resolve itself into some form of coherence. The smirk was back on Jin's face. Yamapi's hopes sank.
"No."
"Jin." Yamapi sounded tired, bordering on petulant.
"Yes, Pi?" Only Jin's voice was low and breathy, and he was running a finger along the tie around his throat. Yamapi felt something snap, like an elastic band holding him in place, and he was pressing Jin up against the living room door frame and working a hand up under Jin's skirt, palm pressing against Jin's thigh.
Jin wasted no time in raising that leg to wrap around Yamapi's waist, and his intentions were entirely too clear. It wasn't that Yamapi objected to those plans, oh no. It was Jin's attitude that he objected to. Jin tended to act like he was the king--queen?--of the world if he got his way, and considering his ornery behavior over the past week, Yamapi thought it was high time to teach Jin a lesson about being an insufferable tease. It didn't matter that his objective was pretty similar to Jin's--that didn't mean he couldn't make his point.
Yamapi leaned forward, gaze set on Jin's mouth--those full lips, lips he knew from experience to be soft, warm (especially on a certain part of his anatomy). Jin didn't seem to have any qualms with the idea of a kiss, intent on meeting him halfway, so it caught him by surprise when Yamapi's mouth landed on his jaw instead. Mouthing his way down, Yamapi paused to bite at the underside of his jaw, feeling Jin’s pulse racing against his lips before descending, intent on leaving a prominent mark on his throat. Yamapi could feel Jin's breath hitch as he started to suck, the ties of Jin’s dress brushing against his chin and making him growl, wanting more.
Yamapi started a slow roll of his body and Jin pushed back, using the door frame as leverage because he only had one heel on the ground. He used his other leg to pull Yamapi more tightly against him, sliding up under the front of the skirt. Hips finally aligned to Jin's liking, he started grinding in earnest until Yamapi was gasping against his throat instead of sucking on it.
Yamapi slid his other hand up under the back of Jin's skirt to dig into the flesh there, hips working in hard circles that were lifting Jin off the ground. Yamapi scraped teeth against the hollow of Jin's throat, right above where the ties wrapped around Jin's neck, and Jin gasped.
"I want you," Jin panted, "in me," and Yamapi groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the images Jin's words called up in his mind. "Now." Jin disentangled his leg and they stumbled away from the doorway, Jin scrabbling frantically at Yamapi's belt.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you. Me spreading your legs, pushing into you," Yamapi growled as Jin yanked Yamapi's shirt over his head.
"That was totally not sexy. Don't you feel stupid saying things like that?" Jin demanded, shoving Yamapi down onto the floor. Yamapi grabbed Jin's leg and pulled him down with him in retaliation, but Jin just followed him, shoving Yamapi onto his back and climbing into his lap.
"Wait, need-" Yamapi gasped and struggled against Jin's hands on his chest as Jin rose up on his thighs, hovering over him.
Jin just held him down more firmly, before lowering himself onto Yamapi. "Don't need it. Did it already. Waiting," he says between breaths, blowing hard through his nose, "for you to get back." Yamapi's hips bucked up as his brain processes what Jin had said, images of Jin preparing himself, Jin working his own fingers in and out, and the way Jin would gasp and moan when he curled them to hit that spot burning behind Yamapi's closed eyes.
"So impatient," Jin says, voice thin and breathy, and then his hips are moving frenetically. Yamapi scrabbled to get better footing so he could thrust up into Jin's tight heat. With every thrust of his hips, the front of Jin's dress, tented over Jin's erection, bobbed and shook ridiculously, and Yamapi made a mental note to mock him for it later, when he didn't feel so amazing.
Jin cried out as Yamapi picked up speed, and he shifted a bit in Yamapi's lap, moving his balance to rest on his legs and his left arm. Jin hitched the front of his dress up his stomach, exposing his cock. Jin licked his hand and wrapped it around his cock, pumping it in time with the movement of their hips until he was coming with a cry over Yamapi's chest, thighs straining in ecstasy.
Yamapi tried to memorize Jin in that moment. Jin's weight on top of him, legs trembling. Jin's face, eyes clouded and lips slack with pleasure. Jin's throat, blue-green ties wrapping around the delicate skin there and a red mark from Yamapi's teeth on his neck. Jin's release, frozen for a moment mid-air, framed by the deep, deep color of the dress. The feel of him, hot and slick and tight around him.
And then the moment passed as Jin's cum hit Yamapi's skin (miraculously missing the dress completely) and Yamapi thrust up into Jin two, three, four more times before coming hard.
Jin pulled off Yamapi gingerly, and then flopped bonelessly to the side, still breathing heavily. He reached one hand under the coffee table and grabbed the box of tissues no one had bothered to put back after last time, and kind of shoved it at Yamapi's head, so he could clean himself up.
"Ok, fine," Yamapi said sometime later, after his heart-rate had slowed to something approximating normal, and he'd cleaned most of the sticky mess off his chest. "You can wear jeans again. In my old age, I don't think I could take another week like this."
Jin sniffed from his spot on the floor, hem rumpled around his thighs. "Your 'old age.' I'm older than you are. I'm doing fine. Maybe you're out of shape."
"I'm just not a slut like you," Yamapi retorted.
"You have tomorrow off, right?" Jin asked suddenly.
Yamapi turned his head to look at Jin suspiciously. "Yes."
"Good. You'll like the outfit I picked out for tomorrow." Yamapi did not like the glint in Jin's eyes at all.
Title: The Clothes that Make the Man
Pairing: pin
Word Count: 2,092
Rating: sex
Summary: Jin came out of the living room. He wasn't wearing a skirt.
A/N: Why yuuchan and I shouldn't be allowed to speak to each other, for the good of fandom. This spawned from talk of the practical difficulties of undoing someone's pants with one's mouth. Quick once-over and title suggestions by jadedfrenzy because she is as awesome as we pretend to be.
Jin to Yamapi
6:38 pm
Are you coming home soon?
Yamapi to Jin
6:42 pm
...tell me you're not wearing a skirt again.
Jin to Yamapi:
6:45 pm
I'm not wearing a skirt again.
Yamapi to Jin
6:46 pm
promise? I don't trust you.
Jin to Yamapi
6:53 pm
I promise! I promise. I am not wearing a skirt. Now are you coming home soon?
Yamapi to Jin
6:57 pm
about halfway there. see you in half an hour.
Yamapi let himself into the apartment with a sense of relief. It had been a long day at the end of a trying week.
It had started with a blowjob. Or rather, it hadn't started with a blowjob--they'd never really gotten that far. It was something Yamapi had seen, some porno that hadn't been very good--but the way the girl had undone the guy's jeans entirely with her mouth, that had been sexy. And, well. Jin had never been opposed to trying new things. Of course, if Yamapi had known how much of a disaster it would be, he never would have mentioned it in the first place.
The striptease had gone okay. It would have been worrisome if it hadn’t---they were trained in stripping at work, after all. He hadn’t told Jin what he’d been planning, and Jin had been happy to recline on the bed, avidly watching Yamapi’s swaying body and golden skin, slowly being revealed to him. No, there definitely hadn’t been a problem with the stripping. It was when Yamapi had climbed on the bed and begun to kiss his way down to Jin’s jeans that the problems had begun.
It was just that the girl had made it look so easy. Yamapi hadn’t anticipated any problems when he’d dipped his head down, but he should have known by the loud clink of his tooth banging against the metal button that things weren’t going to go as smoothly as they’d hoped. Jin hadn’t tried to help him, only letting out an erratic moan here and there because, hey, Yamapi’s mouth was on his crotch. But tugging the thick jean material over the metal button had been harder than he thought, and after a few tries, he had to pull back, huffing in frustration.
“Do you need some help?” Jin had asked breathlessly, but Yamapi had just growled stubbornly. If a girl in a porn movie could do it, he could too. So he had lowered his head again, trying futilely to just sort of shove the button through the hole with his teeth. All that did was hurt his teeth. He had tried to get at the zipper instead, but there was something weird about the metal, and he'd yelped as he felt his tongue catch on something, getting painfully stuck for a moment. He had managed to get free, thankfully, but his mumbles about hurting his tongue hadn't been clear--considering he'd been trying to say it without using said body part. Eventually, after some more useless yet valiant tugs, he had been forced to lean back again with a frustrated whine. When he glanced at Jin, seeing the amusement on his face, he pouted, glaring down at Jin's crotch.
"It looked easier in the movie!" Yamapi had complained--or rather, struggled to complain, due to his sore tongue--and by then Jin had lost enough of his arousal to stare at Yamapi incredulously.
"You got this idea from a movie?" Jin had demanded, and, needless to say, that conversation hadn't ended in a blowjob. Instead, it had ended in Yamapi banning Jin from wearing pants with buttons, or zippers, or anything that was difficult to undo with his mouth.
Jin had not taken kindly to Yamapi's prohibition on him wearing 'jeans. Make that pants of any kind with a button' and had retaliated by wearing nothing but skirts at home all week. Short skirts, full of ruffles and stiff with tulle; soft, satiny skirts that were heaven against his skin as he pressed into Jin; or teasing silk skirts that slipped maddeningly along his thighs as Jin fucked him. It had, understandably, been driving him crazy and it was the end of the week and while the sex was mind-blowing, Yamapi was tired. Yamapi also kind of suspected that if they had sex on the coffee table one more time it would break.
Jin came out of the living room. He wasn't wearing a skirt.
He was wearing a dress. If you could call it that. It was the shortest dress Yamapi had ever seen, hemline brushing high on Jin's thighs. The dress had practically no back, a double-tie coming up from the center to tie around his throat. The cut looked good on him even though he wasn't wearing a stuffed bra this time, and the slim dark tie around his neck drew Yamapi's eyes straight there. It was tight at the waist and flared out over his hips, the whole thing a deep, bright blue-green that set off the creamy skin of Jin's thighs. It made Pi think about how Jin's thighs would look wrapped around his waist, pale against his tan skin.
"Fuck, Jin, you told me you weren't in a skirt."
Jin ran a hand down from his exposed collarbones across the front of his chest and down his thigh to the hemline. "It's a dress, Pi. And they call me stupid." Yamapi dragged his eyes from where Jin's hand hovered around the bottom of the dress and the tops of his thighs up to Jin's face. Jin's smirk was totally not helping.
"Jin, I don't want to buy a new coffee table."
For the first time all night, Jin didn't look like the visual dictionary entry for 'smug.' "Buy a new coffee...?" he trailed off.
"The coffee table is not that sturdy. And it's closer than the couch. And a hell of a lot closer than the bed. So because I don't want to buy a new coffee table, you need to go change. Right. Now."
Somewhere in the back of his head, a little cog turned over--Yamapi could practically see it happening--and the mostly nonsensical babble about coffee tables started to resolve itself into some form of coherence. The smirk was back on Jin's face. Yamapi's hopes sank.
"No."
"Jin." Yamapi sounded tired, bordering on petulant.
"Yes, Pi?" Only Jin's voice was low and breathy, and he was running a finger along the tie around his throat. Yamapi felt something snap, like an elastic band holding him in place, and he was pressing Jin up against the living room door frame and working a hand up under Jin's skirt, palm pressing against Jin's thigh.
Jin wasted no time in raising that leg to wrap around Yamapi's waist, and his intentions were entirely too clear. It wasn't that Yamapi objected to those plans, oh no. It was Jin's attitude that he objected to. Jin tended to act like he was the king--queen?--of the world if he got his way, and considering his ornery behavior over the past week, Yamapi thought it was high time to teach Jin a lesson about being an insufferable tease. It didn't matter that his objective was pretty similar to Jin's--that didn't mean he couldn't make his point.
Yamapi leaned forward, gaze set on Jin's mouth--those full lips, lips he knew from experience to be soft, warm (especially on a certain part of his anatomy). Jin didn't seem to have any qualms with the idea of a kiss, intent on meeting him halfway, so it caught him by surprise when Yamapi's mouth landed on his jaw instead. Mouthing his way down, Yamapi paused to bite at the underside of his jaw, feeling Jin’s pulse racing against his lips before descending, intent on leaving a prominent mark on his throat. Yamapi could feel Jin's breath hitch as he started to suck, the ties of Jin’s dress brushing against his chin and making him growl, wanting more.
Yamapi started a slow roll of his body and Jin pushed back, using the door frame as leverage because he only had one heel on the ground. He used his other leg to pull Yamapi more tightly against him, sliding up under the front of the skirt. Hips finally aligned to Jin's liking, he started grinding in earnest until Yamapi was gasping against his throat instead of sucking on it.
Yamapi slid his other hand up under the back of Jin's skirt to dig into the flesh there, hips working in hard circles that were lifting Jin off the ground. Yamapi scraped teeth against the hollow of Jin's throat, right above where the ties wrapped around Jin's neck, and Jin gasped.
"I want you," Jin panted, "in me," and Yamapi groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the images Jin's words called up in his mind. "Now." Jin disentangled his leg and they stumbled away from the doorway, Jin scrabbling frantically at Yamapi's belt.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you. Me spreading your legs, pushing into you," Yamapi growled as Jin yanked Yamapi's shirt over his head.
"That was totally not sexy. Don't you feel stupid saying things like that?" Jin demanded, shoving Yamapi down onto the floor. Yamapi grabbed Jin's leg and pulled him down with him in retaliation, but Jin just followed him, shoving Yamapi onto his back and climbing into his lap.
"Wait, need-" Yamapi gasped and struggled against Jin's hands on his chest as Jin rose up on his thighs, hovering over him.
Jin just held him down more firmly, before lowering himself onto Yamapi. "Don't need it. Did it already. Waiting," he says between breaths, blowing hard through his nose, "for you to get back." Yamapi's hips bucked up as his brain processes what Jin had said, images of Jin preparing himself, Jin working his own fingers in and out, and the way Jin would gasp and moan when he curled them to hit that spot burning behind Yamapi's closed eyes.
"So impatient," Jin says, voice thin and breathy, and then his hips are moving frenetically. Yamapi scrabbled to get better footing so he could thrust up into Jin's tight heat. With every thrust of his hips, the front of Jin's dress, tented over Jin's erection, bobbed and shook ridiculously, and Yamapi made a mental note to mock him for it later, when he didn't feel so amazing.
Jin cried out as Yamapi picked up speed, and he shifted a bit in Yamapi's lap, moving his balance to rest on his legs and his left arm. Jin hitched the front of his dress up his stomach, exposing his cock. Jin licked his hand and wrapped it around his cock, pumping it in time with the movement of their hips until he was coming with a cry over Yamapi's chest, thighs straining in ecstasy.
Yamapi tried to memorize Jin in that moment. Jin's weight on top of him, legs trembling. Jin's face, eyes clouded and lips slack with pleasure. Jin's throat, blue-green ties wrapping around the delicate skin there and a red mark from Yamapi's teeth on his neck. Jin's release, frozen for a moment mid-air, framed by the deep, deep color of the dress. The feel of him, hot and slick and tight around him.
And then the moment passed as Jin's cum hit Yamapi's skin (miraculously missing the dress completely) and Yamapi thrust up into Jin two, three, four more times before coming hard.
Jin pulled off Yamapi gingerly, and then flopped bonelessly to the side, still breathing heavily. He reached one hand under the coffee table and grabbed the box of tissues no one had bothered to put back after last time, and kind of shoved it at Yamapi's head, so he could clean himself up.
"Ok, fine," Yamapi said sometime later, after his heart-rate had slowed to something approximating normal, and he'd cleaned most of the sticky mess off his chest. "You can wear jeans again. In my old age, I don't think I could take another week like this."
Jin sniffed from his spot on the floor, hem rumpled around his thighs. "Your 'old age.' I'm older than you are. I'm doing fine. Maybe you're out of shape."
"I'm just not a slut like you," Yamapi retorted.
"You have tomorrow off, right?" Jin asked suddenly.
Yamapi turned his head to look at Jin suspiciously. "Yes."
"Good. You'll like the outfit I picked out for tomorrow." Yamapi did not like the glint in Jin's eyes at all.