knew you were trouble (1.3k)
Title: knew you were trouble (1.3k)
Pairing: KrisLu (Kris/Lu Han) [EXO-M]
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Infidelity
Summary: When they first met, Lu Han had seen the engagement band on his boss' finger, but hadn't stopped him then and it doesn't stop him now.
A/N: N ♥ I ♥ C ♥ O ♥
Lu Han had seen the engagement band on his boss' ring finger. He had taken orders to send to his fiancee flowers when her birthday had crept closer and he had seen her, in her pretty high heels, her cream dress suit, when she had stopped by the office for a quick surprise visit. Pretty smile but with hard eyes, she had been the exact kind of woman he had imagined his boss would eventually marry.
Unfortunately, meeting her, memorizing the tilts of her hips as she walked away from Yifan's office, had done and still does nothing to stop him.
Fifteen minutes before he's due to clock out, Lu Han is called into his boss' office.
Most of the underlings have already left and the only ones who remain are long used to him disappearing into Yifan's office for more than a few appropriate minutes.
Today, Yifan is behind his large desk, squeezing a medicine ball in one hand. He's looking out of the window, the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, when Lu Han clears his throat. The medicine balls drops from Yifan’s hand.
Maybe in another life, one where Yifan's engagement ring doesn't catch on the day-old frizzyness of Lu Han's hair before falling down to his lips, holding his mouth open with a thumb, they could've been happy, together.
Here Lu Han swallows around Yifan's cock like it's in his contract, knees pressing painfully into the hard floor. Here Yifan leans back in his plush revolving chair, holding a hand over his mouth while the other pulls on Lu Han's hair, wanting him to be fuller.
Sometimes he makes Lu Han watch, still kneeling, as he works himself open using one finger, then two, finally three. By the third finger, Yifan shakes, biting into his fist, and he drips lubrication all over his seat cushion.
He lets Lu Han fuck him on Fridays, only Fridays, on his desk, up the wall, on his back pinned to the floor. Seeing such a big man, such a strong man, whimpering, tears filling the corners of his eyes, makes Lu Han's toes curl. He likes to think of it as revenge when he presses his fingers to Yifan's prostate and holds them there, not moving.
The cut of Yifan's abs, those expensive muscles he cultivates with a personal trainer, and that obnoxious Scorpion tattoo stretch over shivering, pink skin. Like this, he feels like he's going to shatter at any moment, breaking into pieces under Lu Han, and Lu Han's not sure, if that were to happen, that he would put Yifan back together again.
It’s Yifan’s turn to have him today. He's going to be married, Lu Han tells himself as Yifan licks the inside of his thighs, suckling at his testicles as he spreads Lu Han open, wider. He's getting married and it's not to you.
Yifan encourages Lu Han to fuck down on his fingers, holding his shoulders for leverage. Thick. Yifan is thick everywhere, including his heart. He loves someone else.
He swirls his tongue in Lu Han's mouth, licking at the inside of his cheeks as Lu Han's body sucks in his fingers.
He's just using you. He doesn't love you. Leave him. Lu Han pulls Yifan closer, wrapping his legs around Yifan's trim waist. You hate him. You hate him so much.
Yifan's mouth tastes like Lu Han's cum, bitter and pungent, and when he wraps a now confident hand around Lu Han's erection, Lu Han bites down on his lower lip.
"Do it again," Yifan gasps. His hand tightens so hard around Lu Han it's almost painful, but Lu Han, always Lu Han, gives him what he wants. He doesn't know how Yifan's fiancee doesn't notice the red lines running down Yifan's pallid back, the way he can't seem to walk correctly on Saturday mornings.
Lu Han purposely dots Yifan's tight belly with kiss marks. They're the treasure trail leading down to the x, the almost impossibly large purple hickey on the skin between Yifan's crotch and his left leg.
Don't do that. Don't kiss him. Don't let him touch. He's using you. He's engaged and he's fucking around with you? He’s trouble. You don't need him.
"I n-need y-you." Face burning, aided by the press of Yifan's hand into his lower back, Lu Han lowers himself to his hands and knees, ass in the air.
"Yeah?" Yifan's tongue dips into the dimples of Lu Han's lower back. His hands hold Lu Han open, so open, and Lu Han tenses. He hates this position and yet here he is. Here he always is.
"How much do you need me?" Yifan's breath ghosts over Lu Han's behind.
Not at all.. "S-So," Lu Han's voice cracks. "So m-much." He knows he's breathing because he can hear his own pants but he can't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Sweaty hair sticks to his forehead, partially blocking his eyes, and an all consuming heat, no doubt started by Yifan's eyes staring at him there, spreads.
Don’t do this. Don’t you have any respect for yourself? Don’t you? After preparing him and slipping on a condom, Yifan fucks him in the middle of his office. Lu Han gasps against the rough carpeting, sweat trickling into his eyes, and he hates Yifan so much it’s so hard to breathe.
The accursed engagement ring is cold around his shaft as Yifan jerks him off in time with his thrusts. Lu Han comes in Yifan’s hand, drooping under Yifan’s body.
Yifan flips him over, still hard, and Lu Han, delirious, please want me, sucks at his tongue, finishing Yifan off with his trembling hand.
Lying in the aftermath, thighs sticky, cum and sweat drying on his belly, Lu Han finally catches his breath. Yifan, still panting, licks at a spot of saliva on the side of Lu Han’s mouth and then touches his lips to his jaw in a soft kiss. Please. Please me. Pick me. His eyes close, trying to savor the heat of Yifan hovering over him, but then the sweet moments ends.
“Lu Han,” he says as he pulls back. “I...”
Lu Han opens his eyes. Yifan is kneeling between his legs, looking down at him as though he doesn’t know him. His normally meticulously styled hair is in disarray, his chest, belly, and arms covered in long, red marks. There’s a spot of Lu Han’s cum drying on the inside of his wrist. Lu Han watches, stomach suddenly tense, as Yifan brings his wrist up to his mouth and licks.
“Get yourself cleaned up. I have to leave soon.”
Please
Yifan backs away and walks back to his desk to dispose of their condom in the wastebasket.
You’re so fucking stupid, Lu Han. You deserve this. Self loathing and pity wrap themselves around Lu Han’s body like snakes, squeezing him from both ends. I hate myself battles why not me and no matter who wins out on controlling his emotions that day, Lu Han always loses. He hasn’t won since Yifan interviewed him for this job and Lu Han had been unable to ignore the heat of Yifan’s stare on his lips.
When he’s in his car, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes, Lu Han doesn’t know where he finds the strength to do every week. Fatigue collapses his chest. He still reeks of Yifan’s cum.
Where does he find it in him to dress himself back into his work clothes, smile, and tell his boss he’ll see him tomorrow, all the while feeling Yifan’s teeth nipping the side of his neck?
With the phantom feeling of his warm hands, that cold ring, settling on the seat of Lu Han’s trousers as they kiss, Lu Han drives away with his head held high, pretending he’s not imagining Yifan calling his fiancee to say he’ll be late for dinner.
Pairing: KrisLu (Kris/Lu Han) [EXO-M]
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Infidelity
Summary: When they first met, Lu Han had seen the engagement band on his boss' finger, but hadn't stopped him then and it doesn't stop him now.
A/N: N ♥ I ♥ C ♥ O ♥
Lu Han had seen the engagement band on his boss' ring finger. He had taken orders to send to his fiancee flowers when her birthday had crept closer and he had seen her, in her pretty high heels, her cream dress suit, when she had stopped by the office for a quick surprise visit. Pretty smile but with hard eyes, she had been the exact kind of woman he had imagined his boss would eventually marry.
Unfortunately, meeting her, memorizing the tilts of her hips as she walked away from Yifan's office, had done and still does nothing to stop him.
Fifteen minutes before he's due to clock out, Lu Han is called into his boss' office.
Most of the underlings have already left and the only ones who remain are long used to him disappearing into Yifan's office for more than a few appropriate minutes.
Today, Yifan is behind his large desk, squeezing a medicine ball in one hand. He's looking out of the window, the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, when Lu Han clears his throat. The medicine balls drops from Yifan’s hand.
Maybe in another life, one where Yifan's engagement ring doesn't catch on the day-old frizzyness of Lu Han's hair before falling down to his lips, holding his mouth open with a thumb, they could've been happy, together.
Here Lu Han swallows around Yifan's cock like it's in his contract, knees pressing painfully into the hard floor. Here Yifan leans back in his plush revolving chair, holding a hand over his mouth while the other pulls on Lu Han's hair, wanting him to be fuller.
Sometimes he makes Lu Han watch, still kneeling, as he works himself open using one finger, then two, finally three. By the third finger, Yifan shakes, biting into his fist, and he drips lubrication all over his seat cushion.
He lets Lu Han fuck him on Fridays, only Fridays, on his desk, up the wall, on his back pinned to the floor. Seeing such a big man, such a strong man, whimpering, tears filling the corners of his eyes, makes Lu Han's toes curl. He likes to think of it as revenge when he presses his fingers to Yifan's prostate and holds them there, not moving.
The cut of Yifan's abs, those expensive muscles he cultivates with a personal trainer, and that obnoxious Scorpion tattoo stretch over shivering, pink skin. Like this, he feels like he's going to shatter at any moment, breaking into pieces under Lu Han, and Lu Han's not sure, if that were to happen, that he would put Yifan back together again.
It’s Yifan’s turn to have him today. He's going to be married, Lu Han tells himself as Yifan licks the inside of his thighs, suckling at his testicles as he spreads Lu Han open, wider. He's getting married and it's not to you.
Yifan encourages Lu Han to fuck down on his fingers, holding his shoulders for leverage. Thick. Yifan is thick everywhere, including his heart. He loves someone else.
He swirls his tongue in Lu Han's mouth, licking at the inside of his cheeks as Lu Han's body sucks in his fingers.
He's just using you. He doesn't love you. Leave him. Lu Han pulls Yifan closer, wrapping his legs around Yifan's trim waist. You hate him. You hate him so much.
Yifan's mouth tastes like Lu Han's cum, bitter and pungent, and when he wraps a now confident hand around Lu Han's erection, Lu Han bites down on his lower lip.
"Do it again," Yifan gasps. His hand tightens so hard around Lu Han it's almost painful, but Lu Han, always Lu Han, gives him what he wants. He doesn't know how Yifan's fiancee doesn't notice the red lines running down Yifan's pallid back, the way he can't seem to walk correctly on Saturday mornings.
Lu Han purposely dots Yifan's tight belly with kiss marks. They're the treasure trail leading down to the x, the almost impossibly large purple hickey on the skin between Yifan's crotch and his left leg.
Don't do that. Don't kiss him. Don't let him touch. He's using you. He's engaged and he's fucking around with you? He’s trouble. You don't need him.
"I n-need y-you." Face burning, aided by the press of Yifan's hand into his lower back, Lu Han lowers himself to his hands and knees, ass in the air.
"Yeah?" Yifan's tongue dips into the dimples of Lu Han's lower back. His hands hold Lu Han open, so open, and Lu Han tenses. He hates this position and yet here he is. Here he always is.
"How much do you need me?" Yifan's breath ghosts over Lu Han's behind.
Not at all.. "S-So," Lu Han's voice cracks. "So m-much." He knows he's breathing because he can hear his own pants but he can't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Sweaty hair sticks to his forehead, partially blocking his eyes, and an all consuming heat, no doubt started by Yifan's eyes staring at him there, spreads.
Don’t do this. Don’t you have any respect for yourself? Don’t you? After preparing him and slipping on a condom, Yifan fucks him in the middle of his office. Lu Han gasps against the rough carpeting, sweat trickling into his eyes, and he hates Yifan so much it’s so hard to breathe.
The accursed engagement ring is cold around his shaft as Yifan jerks him off in time with his thrusts. Lu Han comes in Yifan’s hand, drooping under Yifan’s body.
Yifan flips him over, still hard, and Lu Han, delirious, please want me, sucks at his tongue, finishing Yifan off with his trembling hand.
Lying in the aftermath, thighs sticky, cum and sweat drying on his belly, Lu Han finally catches his breath. Yifan, still panting, licks at a spot of saliva on the side of Lu Han’s mouth and then touches his lips to his jaw in a soft kiss. Please. Please me. Pick me. His eyes close, trying to savor the heat of Yifan hovering over him, but then the sweet moments ends.
“Lu Han,” he says as he pulls back. “I...”
Lu Han opens his eyes. Yifan is kneeling between his legs, looking down at him as though he doesn’t know him. His normally meticulously styled hair is in disarray, his chest, belly, and arms covered in long, red marks. There’s a spot of Lu Han’s cum drying on the inside of his wrist. Lu Han watches, stomach suddenly tense, as Yifan brings his wrist up to his mouth and licks.
“Get yourself cleaned up. I have to leave soon.”
Please
Yifan backs away and walks back to his desk to dispose of their condom in the wastebasket.
You’re so fucking stupid, Lu Han. You deserve this. Self loathing and pity wrap themselves around Lu Han’s body like snakes, squeezing him from both ends. I hate myself battles why not me and no matter who wins out on controlling his emotions that day, Lu Han always loses. He hasn’t won since Yifan interviewed him for this job and Lu Han had been unable to ignore the heat of Yifan’s stare on his lips.
When he’s in his car, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes, Lu Han doesn’t know where he finds the strength to do every week. Fatigue collapses his chest. He still reeks of Yifan’s cum.
Where does he find it in him to dress himself back into his work clothes, smile, and tell his boss he’ll see him tomorrow, all the while feeling Yifan’s teeth nipping the side of his neck?
With the phantom feeling of his warm hands, that cold ring, settling on the seat of Lu Han’s trousers as they kiss, Lu Han drives away with his head held high, pretending he’s not imagining Yifan calling his fiancee to say he’ll be late for dinner.