[fic] party favors
Author ofolivesnginger
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Chanyeol/Luhan
Rating: NC17
Words: 2049
Warnings: slight exhibitionism; also dubcon.
Summary: pure porn. I have a lot of chanlu fuckbuddies!headcanons and under mangosteins' repeated prompting (which i am grateful for) i wrote it. here's how it begins for me.
Chanyeol knows it’s usually the other way around, but after two years training is just starting to get exciting for him.
They’re on the couch, him and Luhan, the new kid, or Luhan-hyung that is, sweating through his white v-neck in the stuffy New Years party. Chanyeol’s just turned 18 but he’s had his eyes on him for months now. He'd got a drink in his hand, eyeballs rolling down the expanse of luhan head to toe a meter to his right on the couch. He knows nobody’s paying attention to anything going on here, not here in the dimmest corner of the place.
Luhan’s friend says something to him in Chinese and gets up, leaving his can on the coffee table. Chanyeol has been waiting for this ever since he apparently crashed through the kitchen and down on the other end of the small couch, acting intoxicated when he was really just buzzed. It was well timed, when Luhan was raising his own glass to drink, so when he turned to look at him they wouldn’t have to converse in any way. Chanyeol wants everything that goes on under his control. He’s been appraising Luhan, just blatantly enough that he knows Luhan has caught on.
As soon as the other trainee is out of sight, Chanyeol slings his right arm behind the couch, lets it dangle.
He notices luhan tense up as soon as he moves, bracing himself for something, and Chanyeol almost chuckles when he sees luhan sinking into the couch again when the touch doesn’t come. Luhan turns a little red at the tip of his ear, hurriedly grabbing his phone from the table and pretending to flip through something. Chanyeol works at his own drink, trailing his nails up and down the back of the couch, the drag on the textured suede audible in their corner where the music from the living room is muffled. He does it to a rhythm, up and down at first, and then in circles right behind the spot where Luhan sits.
Anyone else would have said he’s doing it mindlessly, relaxed into the cushions and other hand twirling around the liquor, but Luhan’s gone stiff again. His head’s still lowered, looking at the phone in his hand but the screen’s gone black, and he breathes with difficulty. His eyes are closed. Chanyeol watches him from the corner of his eyes, and slowly brings his hand up the back of the couch to the edge, barely an inch from Luhan’s neck. He draws a circle, once, with his curled fingers.
Luhan shivers violently, the phone he’s holding tumbling onto the rug. He’s trying hard to hold still, other hand clutched around his knee. Chanyeol’s leering and Luhan’s afraid to turn his head, just like Chanyeol wants him. Chanyeol’s watching his own fingers draw shapes behind Luhan’s head, knuckles occasionally brushing the soft hairs at the end.
When he crooks a finger up to play with the curls at his nape, Chanyeol half expects Luhan to snap, but he doesn’t. His eyes are still closed, mouth pressed tightly together and dragging breaths through his nose. Chanyeol takes two of his fingers and crawls up his hair in a row, littering touches like skittering ants, and then slowly sealing his whole hand to the back of his head, caressing it. From beside his foot Luhan’s phone suddenly lights up and buzzes, and on instinct he snaps his eyes open and then looks away in an instant, head turned and face flushed. A few seconds later someone shouts his name from the living room and his head whips towards them.
Chanyeol looks up too, sees it’s one of his friends with someone else, pointing at Luhan. The other kid waves, and Luhan nods tightly, raising his hand for a second to wave back. Chanyeol’s hand is still on his neck, ghosting over his skin now, and he’s hiding a grin behind his glass, sipping nonchalantly. Luhan’s friends are still watching him, talking among themselves, and Chanyeol feels the taut muscles of Luhan’s neck quivering where he brushes it. Only up this close can he see the deep blush splashed across his face and neck, see the desperation and panic in Luhan’s eyes, praying that in the shadow of the room their little exhibitionist act goes unnoticed.
When his friends leave, Luhan doesn’t clench his eyes shut again, instead he tilts up his jaw just the slightest and lets his lids drop half way, leaning completely into Chanyeol’s touch. “Nngh…" he moans, so quiet it’s barely audible but it’s there, Chanyeol felt the buzz in his throat where his thumb traced a line down from the edge of luhan’s jaw. Luhan’s brows are knotted, lips falling open on soft pants, head rolling, following Chanyeol’s hand.
It’s so nice, having Luhan this compliant, like he’s forgotten the place and time, forgotten who it is undoing him like this.
Chanyeol lifts his arm back over the couch, large hands catching Luhan’s jaw. He brushes over Luhan’s cheek with his knuckles, smoothes the pad of his thumb over his thin eyelid, now closed, feeling his feathery lashes. With a hand on his collarbones, he pushes Luhan’s stiff torso into the couch and takes his hand back, watching the little flickers of expression on Luhan’s face, watching his chest heave fast and hard like he’s being pumped by a defibrillator.
Luhan’s barely caught his breath when a hand lands soft but steady on his crotch.
His hand snaps up from the couch to catch Chanyeol’s hand, and Chanyeol goes still with Luhan’s hand around him. Chanyeol watches him intently, eyes locked on Luhan’s, waiting for him to turn. when he does, his eyes are clouded, and he holds Chanyeol’s gaze for only seconds before he has to look away from the intensity, Chanyeol’s eyes catching the kitchen’s light where the rest of his face is in shadows, glimmering in the dark, cold and hard but fiery all the same. Luhan’s hand is still holding him still, eyes frantically flitting around. He swallows, looks down. Chanyeol’s facing forwards again, so he doesn’t see Luhan’s grip shakily loosen so much as he feels it, feels his sweaty hand slide down to brace lightly around his wrist.
"Shh…"
He starts to knead his palm onto Luhan’s dick, sitting up straight now, long extended arm barely moving while his wrist rolls in circles. Chanyeol’s in a dark hoodie, and the color blends into the dark fabric of the couch, but Luhan still reaches beside him and clutches a pillow onto his lap, blocking where Chanyeol’s pale hand works over the washed grey of his jeans. It’s cute how he’s trying to hide it, even though he’d let it go this far in the first place. From afar, it really could look like nothing’s happening at all.
Chanyeol’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, right hand still kneading, and reads the text from Baekhyun about the pizza in the backyard, moving to reply with one hand. It’s then that Luhan tugs his hand hard, guiding it to grope over his own dick, and Chanyeol still with his phone in his hand watches fascinated as Luhan’s hips twitch up to meet the pressure. Luhan looks offended, a little desperate, thin layer of sweat already gleaming on his pale face, long neck. He doesn’t turn, but he opens his mouth and, first time speaking all night says, “please," voice thin and rough like sand.
Chanyeol pulls down his zipper, undoes the button with two fingers, and reaches right into his boxers. “Ah-" Luhan’s clutch around his wrist tightens, and Chanyeol waits again, gives him another chance to tell him to stop, but Luhan lets go again after a moment. Chanyeol frees his erect cock from the tent it was making and smoothes up from the base of it, pressing the whole length of him upwards, until the head is this close to peeking out the edge of his boxers.
He finds his rhythm doing this, stroking luhan inside his boxer, going from his balls up to the top and down again. “Spread your legs," he says sternly, quietly, still facing forwards, and Luhan’s doing the same, too afraid that he would get caught if he just looked over. Luhan shifts his thighs, and the pillow on his knees falls down between his legs, uncovering the whole scene for anyone who might just glance their way.
Luhan’s just about to reach down when Chanyeol cups his balls and gives his cock a nice, long stroke from the bottom up. “Just leave it,” Chanyeol says quietly, “all the people that’d love to see you like this, Luhan-hyung.”
“Chanyeol--”
“Not only me, hyung.” Chanyeol isn’t fazed that Luhan knows his name, though they’d never met before tonight. Somewhere along the way he’d considered that Luhan was probably perceptive enough to notice the way he’d been staring after him predatorily everywhere they bumped into each other in the halls. What does do him a blow is the breathy voice he says his name with, like he’s pleading Chanyeol to save him. “I’ve been watching you. Been waiting.” He works his grip around Luhan’s cock, twisting from side to side upwards. With his thumb Chanyeol teases the edge of the head, the slit, knuckles pressed into his soft stomach feeling the minute tremors from his core.
Luhan’s leaking precome onto his fingers, and along with the sweat on his palm the strokes become more and more wet. Chanyeol wont pull luhan’s boxer down, won't pull his cock out and pump him in earnest like he wants him to do, then hiding it all behind a pillow so he can come quick. With their sweaty skins sliding against each other it gets harder to move around his boxer, and Luhan has started to fuck himself in the tight curl of chanyeol’s fist, hips snapping up in staccatos. Chanyeol looks over, sees that Luhan’s head has tilted to the side, so he grips Luhan’s chin and turns his head to face him, eyes boring into Luhan’s with his gorgeously blown pupils, big eyes watery at the rims. He lets his hand drop but Luhan doesnt turn back, doesn't dare. That’s when Chanyeol spots a movement in his peripheral vision and looks over.
Luhan’s friends are coming back, all three of them now, walking down the little flight of stairs and chatting. They’re slow, getting interrupted along the way by others, so Chanyeol knows if he does it quick they can finish before they get here. Luhan’s head has turned after his, but what his eyes reflect, that's panic. Chanyeol doesn't want panic. Chanyeol wants arousal.
“Hyung, come for me,” he says, voice low, speeding up his hand. He tugs luhan’s boxers down enough that half his length is exposed, but with the band on the boxer out of the way it’s so much easier to stroke him. “I’ve got you, just come for me, baby.” Luhan’s hand has released his wrist, scrabbling to clutch onto something and gripping his shoulder, other hand clenched and pressed hard to his mouth. He’s arching off the couch now, eyes locked on the three figures making their way over, tears crystal clear swimming around his eyes. Chanyeol feels it coming when Luhan’s nails dig into his shoulder, and a second later his whole body snaps forward like it’d been wound, guttural moan muffled by the back of his hand, and he comes hard into Chanyeol's fist, spasm after spasm until he’s finished, and collapses right back into the couch, arm pressed over his eyes and panting.
From the box on the coffee table, Chanyeol takes a tissue, wipes off his hand. He takes twenty seconds to tuck Luhan back into his boxers, but he leaves his fly peeled open like that. Taking the glass from the table, he finishes the rest of his drink in one breath and stands. Luhan’s friends are ten steps away when he bends down, picks up the pillow at Luhan’s feet and puts it back over his lap. “See you around, hyung,” he says, taking the cup and tissue with him, leaving luhan panting on the couch, almost brushing shoulders with one of his friends as he goes.
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Chanyeol/Luhan
Rating: NC17
Words: 2049
Warnings: slight exhibitionism; also dubcon.
Summary: pure porn. I have a lot of chanlu fuckbuddies!headcanons and under mangosteins' repeated prompting (which i am grateful for) i wrote it. here's how it begins for me.
Chanyeol knows it’s usually the other way around, but after two years training is just starting to get exciting for him.
They’re on the couch, him and Luhan, the new kid, or Luhan-hyung that is, sweating through his white v-neck in the stuffy New Years party. Chanyeol’s just turned 18 but he’s had his eyes on him for months now. He'd got a drink in his hand, eyeballs rolling down the expanse of luhan head to toe a meter to his right on the couch. He knows nobody’s paying attention to anything going on here, not here in the dimmest corner of the place.
Luhan’s friend says something to him in Chinese and gets up, leaving his can on the coffee table. Chanyeol has been waiting for this ever since he apparently crashed through the kitchen and down on the other end of the small couch, acting intoxicated when he was really just buzzed. It was well timed, when Luhan was raising his own glass to drink, so when he turned to look at him they wouldn’t have to converse in any way. Chanyeol wants everything that goes on under his control. He’s been appraising Luhan, just blatantly enough that he knows Luhan has caught on.
As soon as the other trainee is out of sight, Chanyeol slings his right arm behind the couch, lets it dangle.
He notices luhan tense up as soon as he moves, bracing himself for something, and Chanyeol almost chuckles when he sees luhan sinking into the couch again when the touch doesn’t come. Luhan turns a little red at the tip of his ear, hurriedly grabbing his phone from the table and pretending to flip through something. Chanyeol works at his own drink, trailing his nails up and down the back of the couch, the drag on the textured suede audible in their corner where the music from the living room is muffled. He does it to a rhythm, up and down at first, and then in circles right behind the spot where Luhan sits.
Anyone else would have said he’s doing it mindlessly, relaxed into the cushions and other hand twirling around the liquor, but Luhan’s gone stiff again. His head’s still lowered, looking at the phone in his hand but the screen’s gone black, and he breathes with difficulty. His eyes are closed. Chanyeol watches him from the corner of his eyes, and slowly brings his hand up the back of the couch to the edge, barely an inch from Luhan’s neck. He draws a circle, once, with his curled fingers.
Luhan shivers violently, the phone he’s holding tumbling onto the rug. He’s trying hard to hold still, other hand clutched around his knee. Chanyeol’s leering and Luhan’s afraid to turn his head, just like Chanyeol wants him. Chanyeol’s watching his own fingers draw shapes behind Luhan’s head, knuckles occasionally brushing the soft hairs at the end.
When he crooks a finger up to play with the curls at his nape, Chanyeol half expects Luhan to snap, but he doesn’t. His eyes are still closed, mouth pressed tightly together and dragging breaths through his nose. Chanyeol takes two of his fingers and crawls up his hair in a row, littering touches like skittering ants, and then slowly sealing his whole hand to the back of his head, caressing it. From beside his foot Luhan’s phone suddenly lights up and buzzes, and on instinct he snaps his eyes open and then looks away in an instant, head turned and face flushed. A few seconds later someone shouts his name from the living room and his head whips towards them.
Chanyeol looks up too, sees it’s one of his friends with someone else, pointing at Luhan. The other kid waves, and Luhan nods tightly, raising his hand for a second to wave back. Chanyeol’s hand is still on his neck, ghosting over his skin now, and he’s hiding a grin behind his glass, sipping nonchalantly. Luhan’s friends are still watching him, talking among themselves, and Chanyeol feels the taut muscles of Luhan’s neck quivering where he brushes it. Only up this close can he see the deep blush splashed across his face and neck, see the desperation and panic in Luhan’s eyes, praying that in the shadow of the room their little exhibitionist act goes unnoticed.
When his friends leave, Luhan doesn’t clench his eyes shut again, instead he tilts up his jaw just the slightest and lets his lids drop half way, leaning completely into Chanyeol’s touch. “Nngh…" he moans, so quiet it’s barely audible but it’s there, Chanyeol felt the buzz in his throat where his thumb traced a line down from the edge of luhan’s jaw. Luhan’s brows are knotted, lips falling open on soft pants, head rolling, following Chanyeol’s hand.
It’s so nice, having Luhan this compliant, like he’s forgotten the place and time, forgotten who it is undoing him like this.
Chanyeol lifts his arm back over the couch, large hands catching Luhan’s jaw. He brushes over Luhan’s cheek with his knuckles, smoothes the pad of his thumb over his thin eyelid, now closed, feeling his feathery lashes. With a hand on his collarbones, he pushes Luhan’s stiff torso into the couch and takes his hand back, watching the little flickers of expression on Luhan’s face, watching his chest heave fast and hard like he’s being pumped by a defibrillator.
Luhan’s barely caught his breath when a hand lands soft but steady on his crotch.
His hand snaps up from the couch to catch Chanyeol’s hand, and Chanyeol goes still with Luhan’s hand around him. Chanyeol watches him intently, eyes locked on Luhan’s, waiting for him to turn. when he does, his eyes are clouded, and he holds Chanyeol’s gaze for only seconds before he has to look away from the intensity, Chanyeol’s eyes catching the kitchen’s light where the rest of his face is in shadows, glimmering in the dark, cold and hard but fiery all the same. Luhan’s hand is still holding him still, eyes frantically flitting around. He swallows, looks down. Chanyeol’s facing forwards again, so he doesn’t see Luhan’s grip shakily loosen so much as he feels it, feels his sweaty hand slide down to brace lightly around his wrist.
"Shh…"
He starts to knead his palm onto Luhan’s dick, sitting up straight now, long extended arm barely moving while his wrist rolls in circles. Chanyeol’s in a dark hoodie, and the color blends into the dark fabric of the couch, but Luhan still reaches beside him and clutches a pillow onto his lap, blocking where Chanyeol’s pale hand works over the washed grey of his jeans. It’s cute how he’s trying to hide it, even though he’d let it go this far in the first place. From afar, it really could look like nothing’s happening at all.
Chanyeol’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, right hand still kneading, and reads the text from Baekhyun about the pizza in the backyard, moving to reply with one hand. It’s then that Luhan tugs his hand hard, guiding it to grope over his own dick, and Chanyeol still with his phone in his hand watches fascinated as Luhan’s hips twitch up to meet the pressure. Luhan looks offended, a little desperate, thin layer of sweat already gleaming on his pale face, long neck. He doesn’t turn, but he opens his mouth and, first time speaking all night says, “please," voice thin and rough like sand.
Chanyeol pulls down his zipper, undoes the button with two fingers, and reaches right into his boxers. “Ah-" Luhan’s clutch around his wrist tightens, and Chanyeol waits again, gives him another chance to tell him to stop, but Luhan lets go again after a moment. Chanyeol frees his erect cock from the tent it was making and smoothes up from the base of it, pressing the whole length of him upwards, until the head is this close to peeking out the edge of his boxers.
He finds his rhythm doing this, stroking luhan inside his boxer, going from his balls up to the top and down again. “Spread your legs," he says sternly, quietly, still facing forwards, and Luhan’s doing the same, too afraid that he would get caught if he just looked over. Luhan shifts his thighs, and the pillow on his knees falls down between his legs, uncovering the whole scene for anyone who might just glance their way.
Luhan’s just about to reach down when Chanyeol cups his balls and gives his cock a nice, long stroke from the bottom up. “Just leave it,” Chanyeol says quietly, “all the people that’d love to see you like this, Luhan-hyung.”
“Chanyeol--”
“Not only me, hyung.” Chanyeol isn’t fazed that Luhan knows his name, though they’d never met before tonight. Somewhere along the way he’d considered that Luhan was probably perceptive enough to notice the way he’d been staring after him predatorily everywhere they bumped into each other in the halls. What does do him a blow is the breathy voice he says his name with, like he’s pleading Chanyeol to save him. “I’ve been watching you. Been waiting.” He works his grip around Luhan’s cock, twisting from side to side upwards. With his thumb Chanyeol teases the edge of the head, the slit, knuckles pressed into his soft stomach feeling the minute tremors from his core.
Luhan’s leaking precome onto his fingers, and along with the sweat on his palm the strokes become more and more wet. Chanyeol wont pull luhan’s boxer down, won't pull his cock out and pump him in earnest like he wants him to do, then hiding it all behind a pillow so he can come quick. With their sweaty skins sliding against each other it gets harder to move around his boxer, and Luhan has started to fuck himself in the tight curl of chanyeol’s fist, hips snapping up in staccatos. Chanyeol looks over, sees that Luhan’s head has tilted to the side, so he grips Luhan’s chin and turns his head to face him, eyes boring into Luhan’s with his gorgeously blown pupils, big eyes watery at the rims. He lets his hand drop but Luhan doesnt turn back, doesn't dare. That’s when Chanyeol spots a movement in his peripheral vision and looks over.
Luhan’s friends are coming back, all three of them now, walking down the little flight of stairs and chatting. They’re slow, getting interrupted along the way by others, so Chanyeol knows if he does it quick they can finish before they get here. Luhan’s head has turned after his, but what his eyes reflect, that's panic. Chanyeol doesn't want panic. Chanyeol wants arousal.
“Hyung, come for me,” he says, voice low, speeding up his hand. He tugs luhan’s boxers down enough that half his length is exposed, but with the band on the boxer out of the way it’s so much easier to stroke him. “I’ve got you, just come for me, baby.” Luhan’s hand has released his wrist, scrabbling to clutch onto something and gripping his shoulder, other hand clenched and pressed hard to his mouth. He’s arching off the couch now, eyes locked on the three figures making their way over, tears crystal clear swimming around his eyes. Chanyeol feels it coming when Luhan’s nails dig into his shoulder, and a second later his whole body snaps forward like it’d been wound, guttural moan muffled by the back of his hand, and he comes hard into Chanyeol's fist, spasm after spasm until he’s finished, and collapses right back into the couch, arm pressed over his eyes and panting.
From the box on the coffee table, Chanyeol takes a tissue, wipes off his hand. He takes twenty seconds to tuck Luhan back into his boxers, but he leaves his fly peeled open like that. Taking the glass from the table, he finishes the rest of his drink in one breath and stands. Luhan’s friends are ten steps away when he bends down, picks up the pillow at Luhan’s feet and puts it back over his lap. “See you around, hyung,” he says, taking the cup and tissue with him, leaving luhan panting on the couch, almost brushing shoulders with one of his friends as he goes.