That Splash Of Color, for exollent (2/2)

[chiharu]

“I’m taking it as a no to the sex since I didn’t have to put my earbuds in last night,” Jongin comments casually as they pile in the car to go to school. Sehun tosses his backpack into the back seat and closes the car door a little too hard for Jongin’s liking.

“Why is sex always the first thing you think about? It’s too early in the morning.”

“First, it’s never too early to think about sex. Second, since I’m not getting any, I need to live vicariously through you.”

“Worst kind of friend.”

“Oh come on. You and I, our relationship is about give and take. You give and I take.”

“And I glue the tip of your dick to your stomach while you sleep.”

“Wow,” Jongin says as he backs out of the driveway. “No more sleepovers.”

Sehun sits back with a pleased smile and dozes off during the ride. Jongin turns up the music to spite him, but he’s so used to it that it doesn’t matter. By the time they get there, Sehun is more tired than he was before they left and Jongin has to drag him out. Zitao appears at his side and Sehun perks right up, swinging arms around his boyfriend and kissing him thoroughly.

Boyfriend.

“I’m not a third wheel,” Jongin informs them as he follows the new couple down to Zitao’s locker before homeroom. “I’m observing the wild teenager in his natural habitat.” Sehun rolls his eyes and Zitao smiles as he empties his backpack into his locker. “The dominant male seems to enjoy the way the submissive male clings to his arm.” Zitao slams his locker shut the same time Sehun stomps on Jongin’s foot, masking his cry of pain. “What?! Mating habits! IT’S A THING!” he calls after them as they walk away.

Sehun enjoys the way Jongin hobbles in a minute later, wincing with every step. He hopes he broke a toe.

“It’s always the submissives you need to watch for,” Jongin grumbles when he sits down. “Feisty little shits.”

Considering he has Jongin as a best friend, it’s amazing Sehun hasn’t experience more in his seventeen years of life. Like skipping the first part of fourth period to make out in the boy’s bathroom. Zitao had dragged him inside and locked the stall door with a satisfied smile. And now he’s pressed against the wall, who knows what rubbing across the ass of his jeans, but he’s three sheets to the wind by the time Zitao has his tongue in his mouth. There’s no easing in with pecks and quick kisses this time. It’s hot and heavy out of the gate and Sehun holds on for dear life, eventually slumping on to Zitao’s thigh that’s situated between his legs.

The adrenaline rush from being around Zitao coupled with breaking school rules gives Sehun a high he rides for the rest of the day. Jongin keeps telling him he has sex hair and offers to help him cover up the hickey on his neck that wasn’t there earlier. Sehun shrugs it off because he really doesn’t care.

In hindsight, he should have cared because now his mother in inquiring about his love life and nothing about that makes Sehun comfortable. “It was just Jongin playing around. He likes to pinch,” he offers in explanation.

“I know a hickey when I see one, Oh Sehun.” Sehun fully embraces the shudder that races from his head to his toes. “Your father and I -”

“Nope,” and he’s out of the chair and running up the stairs before she can finish the sentence. Unfortunately for him, brain enemas aren’t a thing and he’s stuck with that knowledge for the rest of his life.

“Yearbook pictures.” Their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kim, slams a stack of folders onto her desk and the room falls silent. “Yearbook pictures,” she begins again. “They are tomorrow. Please dress accordingly because this is the picture people will keep with them the rest of their lives. They will be in color so try to match your clothing,” she says, eyeing a few of the students in the room over her glasses. “And adhere to the dress code or you’ll be left out.” One last judgemental look around the room and she sits, pulling out a novel to read until the bell for first period rings.

Zitao pokes Sehun in the neck and he bends backward, his world turned upside-down. He’s met with a grinning Zitao. “What?”

“Do you have anymore gum?”

“My last piece,” he says before sticking the mildly flavored contraband between his teeth for Zitao to see. What he’s not expecting is his boyfriend to tilt his desk forward enough to lean in and grab it out of his mouth with his tongue. Sehun’s left with his mouth agape as Zitao chews and then blows a pink bubble with a smug look on his face. “You owe me a kiss for that,” he demands once he gets his bearings again.

“Gladly.” Zitao tips in again and they kiss, laughing as Sehun tries to swipe the gum back and fails. Jongin yanks them apart just as the teacher looks their way.

Sehun is eyeing the box of hair dye in his hand with trepidation as Jongin pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it aside. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“For the thousandth time, YES!” Jongin takes the box and sets it on the bathroom counter with conviction. Sehun is perched on the edge of the bathtub, out of the splash zone because Jongin is seriously about to dye his hair. The box displays a light brown hair color and he’s pretty sure putting that on top of black won’t have the desired results. “My sister uses this stuff all the time.”

“She’s a girl. She knows what she’s doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Jongin says with a frown. “Now help me.”

Sehun sighs the sigh of a man left with no choice. “What do you want me to do.”

“Read the instructions.” Sehun chokes a little on his spit.

Forty-five minutes later and one near panic attack from when the dye had splattered against the wall, Jongin is towel drying what looks like black hair. Sehun snickers and Jongin shoves him away, nearly forcing him into the bathtub. The shrill ring of Sehun’s cell stops him from letting loose the string of curse words he had prepared for Jongin. Instead, he answers with a bubbly, “Hey sexy.” Jongin pretends to gag over the sink.

“Hey.” It’s so nice to hear Zitao’s voice even if they’re not physically together. Jongin is being more tiresome than usual. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all.” Sehun barely makes it out of the bathroom before Jongin turns on the hair dryer. He makes himself at home on Jongin’s bed, careful to avoid the mushed poptart crushed inside his sheets. How does he sleep like this?

“Great! You can keep me company while I wait for the bleach to set.”

Sehun’s good mood evaporates. “What,” he deadpans, not at all amused. He absolutely loves Zitao’s red hair and has told him so on more than one occasion.

“Going for a different look,” he comments casually enough to make Sehun’s teeth grit. “It’ll be fine.”

Sehun pouts, huffing into the receiver and hoping Zitao can hear it. “I don’t understand why you two can’t just leave well enough alone.”

Zitao barks out a laugh. “Says the guy who goes to the beauty salon with his mother once a month to touch up his roots. I know you’re not a natural blond.”

It’s a good point and Sehun doesn’t like it. “But you’re both going all out just because it’s picture day. I’m consistent at least.”

“How do you know this isn’t consistent for me?” Sehun tries to come up with an answer, but there isn’t one. Zitao’s right. “For all you know, I could change my entire look every few months.”

The silence is stifling and Sehun lets it settle in around him for a while. The sound of the hair dryer dies in the background and Zitao is breathing on the other end of the phone. Sehun doesn’t like the sudden ache in his stomach.

“Hey,” Zitao says softly after another minute. “It’s ok. We’re ok. Just -” There’s a high pitches timer going off and Sehun has to pull his phone from his ear. “Sorry, babe. I have to go. See you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Sehun mumbles. “Night.”

Jongin steps out of the bathroom with a bright grin and hair the color of milk chocolate. It looks really good. “I told you.” Sehun picks up the old poptart and throws it at him because he had no idea it would come out that way.

It’s way too early for Sehun to be awake, flailing around in his sheets as Jongin attempts to wrestle him out of the bed. His alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour and he’s putting up a valiant fight, but Jongin is regrettably stronger.

“I demand an explanation or I swear to everything you love, I will punch you in the dick.”

“I have an amazing idea for your hair.”

Sehun drops his weight in Jongin’s arms, allowing himself to be dragged the rest of the way out. If Jongin is excited enough about something to wake up at the asscrack of dawn voluntarily, it’s usually worth it. Jongin dumps him in front of his closet and pats him on the ass. “Get dressed.” And then he leaves the room. Sehun pulls himself to his knees using the knob on his closet door. “And be quick about it,” Jongin adds, peeking his head inside and then disappearing again.

It’s going to be a long day.

The toast in his mouth hits the floor when Jongin jerks his arm to lead him back up the stairs and to the bathroom. Sehun’s stomach is grumbling and his eyes hurt from not getting that extra hour of sleep and Jongin is far too chipper. He’s forced to sit on the toilet seat as Jongin pulls out a box of what looks like oil pastels. “I don’t think so.” Sehun makes to get up and Jongin places a hand on his shoulder, shoving him back down.

“Trust me.”

“Famous last words,” Sehun grumbles before his hair is being spritzed with water. He squeezes his eyes closed and refuses to open them when Jongin starts tugging. It takes time and he hears Jongin cussing and at least that’s somewhat amusing. A few times he even dozes off, only to be jolted out of sleep when Jongin knocks him against the side of his head. Vaguely he registers the crinkling of plastic which means Jongin’s wearing gloves. It also means that if he’s done something seriously fucked to Sehun’s hair, he’s going to rub himself all over Jongin for spite.

“You are a masterpiece.”

Sehun tries to stand and is shoved back down. Again. He shoots his friend a cold glare and Jongin waves the hair dryer in his face. “Not yet lover boy.” With a huff, Sehun closes his eyes again and tries not to think of what atrocity he’s been subjected to. “Now,” he says and Sehun opens his eyes to see Jongin rearranging strands of his hair. He pulls his hands away - glove free - and hops back a step.

And now for the moment of truth. Sehun stands in front of the mirror, staring down at the sink until he musters the courage to look at his reflection. With a brave sigh, he flicks his eyes up and promptly goes into shock. Where there used to be blond is now every color of the rainbow. There are chunks of red and yellow and pink and purple and blue and teal and holy fuck he looks like a fairy just took a piss on his head.

“This is -. This is -.” Sehun can’t finish the thought, too many words popping up in his mind and immediately dismissed. Audacious. Crazy. Colorful. Insane. Unreal. Ludicrous. Completely not cool. Reaching up carefully, he sweeps his bangs to the side, a wave of red swishing over to reveal orange underneath and it’s kinda neat. Neat as in interesting. As in Sehun likes it and he’s torn because this is a good idea that came from Jongin.

“This is?”

There’s really only one answer he has left, left over from his mental list. “Fabulous.”

“Zitao’s going to flip,” Jongin announces with a grin. Sehun hums and allows himself to be manhandled down the stairs because they can’t be late. Not today. He’s lucky he manages to grab a granola bar off the counter before Jongin has him out the door.

The first thing Sehun registers when he gets out of the car is that they weren’t the only ones who had brilliant ideas for senior pictures. The sheer flamboyance of the senior class is off the charts. The second thing he notices is the white dress shirt pulled tight over Zitao’s chest, top few buttons undone just to torture him. His eyes drink in exposed skin and perky nipples and Sehun’s mouth goes dry. And then Zitao is in front of him and he hazards a look up to be met with blond hair. It’s a darker blond than his own and the sides of his hair have been buzzed super short and his mohawk is a purposeful mess atop his head, ending in a point that drops over his forehead and it’s fucking hot. “Whoa.” All anger at the sudden change dissipates as Sehun nearly drools over his boyriend.

“Whoa right back at you,” Zitao responds, wrapping an arm around Sehun’s waist to pull him close. “Permission to taste the rainbow?”

It takes a lot for Sehun to school his smile into a look of neutrality. “That’s a terrible line.”

Zitao kisses him anyway.

The melted crayon look grows on Sehun and while he may not wake up early every morning to do his entire head (he needs Jongin’s help on those rare occasions), he does add strips of color at least in the front daily. More often than not it’s pink because Zitao really seems to like the pink. And also because the red likes to stick in his hair and even after shampooing, there’s pink left behind. His parents had initially thrown a fit until he assured them it washed out.

No one in school points and whispers when he passes them in the halls anymore, either. That had been a pain in the ass for a while. It’s not like he stabbed a teacher in the eye. He put color in his hair. It’s nice to sit in the cafeteria for lunch and not draw so much attention now. He can wiggle his way mostly onto his boyfriend’s lap and steal his food as Jongin helps himself to whatever Sehun brought.

Zitao has a hand on the back of Sehun’s neck, absently tracing small circles on his skin as they talk. Every so often he stops the pattern long enough to pull Sehun into a kiss. And he accepts wholeheartedly, grinning and reigning in his hormones enough to not pounce his boyfriend in the middle of school.

“You two are so fucking gross. I’ve lost my appetite.” Jongin picks up his books and walks off with a,” later bitches,” tossed back over his shoulder.

Sehun doesn’t pay him any mind, but Zitao looks a little worried. “We didn’t actually chase him off, did we?”

“Nah.” Sehun sneaks one of Zitao’s carrot sticks while he isn’t looking. “He has a dentist appointment and his mom is picking him up. He’s going to cut her off at the pass so they don’t announce it over the intercom.”

“Can’t he just drive himself?”

“Sure, if he would actually go. I have his cars keys.”

It’s a special kind of satisfying when Sehun scratches a mark into the dashboard while he’s making out with Zitao in the passenger’s seat. It’s awkward and they don’t fit well in a spot made for one person, but the excitement is what drives them. Sehun is rolling his hips down and Zitao is angling up and if the windows weren’t rolled down, they’d be covered in condensation. Hands are everywhere - under clothes, tangling in hair, scraping across exposed skin. Sehun hisses when Zitao’s teeth latch on to a tender spot just under his left ear that makes him want to kick his leg like a dog getting a belly rub.

Sehun is grinning so hard it hurts when he hears Jongin’s front door slamming. “No action in my car unless it involves me,” he grunts, opening the door so Sehun practically spills out and onto the pavement.

“Consider it payment for services rendered.”

Zitao is the one who plucks Sehun from the ground, leaving Jongin behind to inspect his car for “damaging fluids” as they disappear inside Sehun’s house. It’s become a tradition for Zitao to come over on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. Studying is always the excuse and sometimes they do manage to crack open the text book. Sehun vaguely wonders how much wear and tear he can inflict on the book before they make him pay for it. It hits the floor with a loud noise they choose to ignore, Zitao nestled comfortably between Sehun’s legs as they focus on each other in the place of academics.

“Tomorrow’s friday,” Zitao mentions, his fingers pressing hard against Sehun’s hip. It’s all Sehun can do to register the statement, humming while tilting his head to the left so Zitao has better access to his neck. “I want to take you on a date.”

It’s very distracting the way Zitao’s lips brush over his skin when he speaks, but when he finally registers the statement, he drags his boyfriend up for a kiss. “I’d like that,” he breathes and pushes his lips against Zitao’s again. A date sounds really nice. It’ll be a change of scenery, although, as he tugs Zitao’s shirt off over his head, this scenery is really great too.

Zitao isn’t very original. His idea of a date is fast food on the way to a movie, stuffing the last bits of cheeseburger into their mouths before getting out to buy tickets. Sehun takes every opportunity to mock him for it.

“That’s the most romantic trip through the drive-thru I’ve ever had.”

“Shush,” Zitao orders as he pockets the car keys. He borrowed his dad’s car for the date and Sehun has to admit it’s pretty hot seeing him behind the wheel.

“I’m serious. That kiss between paying and picking up the food made it perfect.”

“You’re killing me.”

Sehun takes Zitao’s hand and they walk through the parking lot. “Buy me popcorn too.”

“You’re very demanding.”

“You’re very cheap.”

Zitao stops abruptly and uses Sehun’s forward momentum to propel him back until he slams into a firm chest. Arms wrap around his waist and keep him there, Sehun not even bothering to fight against the hold. Zitao’s mouth is right at his ear and he shivers. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“N-No,” Sehun answers.

“Then behave.”

Sehun misses the heat against his back as soon as it’s gone, but then Zitao’s linking their fingers together and tugging him forward. “Is that a yes to popcorn?”

Zitao says no, but ends up buying a large bucket of popcorn anyway. Sehun clings to it like a lifeline, letting Zitao guide him with a hand on his lower back to their seats. Zitao chooses the top row, dead center and tugs Sehun down next to him. “What are we watching again?”

It turns out Zitao brought them to a very poorly done horror movie with a scream track and imposing music that gives away every potentially scary moment. Sehun can’t bring himself to mock this part even if the movie is a bust. Instead, he sets aside the half empty bucket of popcorn, raises the armrest that was separating them and slides to rest a leg over Zitao’s thighs. A teenage girl shrieks on screen and fake blood sprays against the lense for dramatic effect, dripping down to block the view of the killer.

Sehun leans his head on Zitao’s shoulder, shifting down for a more comfortable fit. The ominous soundtrack gets louder, tempo increasing. Zitao wraps an arm around Sehun’s waist and turns to press a kiss to his forehead. Sehun smiles as a different person - the girl’s brother maybe - ends up decapitated with his wax head rolling into the fireplace to burn. Classy.

Stealth is the key, Sehun slowly reaching across to Zitao’s other side and lifting that armrest too. Zitao looks over at him questioningly and Sehun notes that he doesn’t have a potential future as a ninja. But seeing as the jig is up, he pushes Zitao down so he’s sprawled across the red velour seats on his back and Sehun can climb over him.

“You don’t like the movie?” Zitao questions, although there’s no sincerity behind the words.

“I think it could use a makeout scene.”

Zitao tastes like popcorn and soda and Sehun really likes the way he tries to stifle his noises because there are other people in the theater. He bites down lightly on Zitao’s bottom lip as he tweaks Zitao’s nipple, making him arch up and hiss. The low growl that follows has a quick heat simmering to a boil in the pit of Sehun’s stomach. Zitao manages to wedge a thigh between Sehun’s legs, lifting and sending him up further. It entices a loud, unintentional moan from him and he ducks his head into Zitao’s neck to muffle it. It’s no surprise that he’s hard inside his jeans because every time him and Zitao are together, he ends up this way. But right now he’s really wishing they’d moved passed making out and into more hands-on territory.

“So how’d you like the movie?”

Sehun snorts into his drink, slurping down the last dregs of soda on the way out so he can toss the giant cup in the trash. “The action really picked up in the second half,” he says with a grin. “It was nearly perfect.”

“Nearly?”

“Nearly.”

“I guess that gives me a goal for our second date.”

“Does this mean you’re taking me home now?” Sehun doesn’t mean to pout, but he does anyway.

“I don’t have to,” Zitao comments, opening the passenger side door for Sehun to climb in. “But I don’t know many places around here, so you have to tell me where to go.”

Sehun directs Zitao to the park a few blocks down from his house. It’s well after dark and the place closed at sundown, but the boys sneak in anyway, long legs stepping over the chain that blocks the entrance. He and Jongin used to come here all the time as kids just to get away from their parents. It’s kind of a safeplace and Sehun is happy that he gets to share it with Zitao.

“This is really cheesy,” Zitao says as Sehun forces him over to the swings. They’re way too low to the ground for them to actually swing, but they sit anyway, with their legs sprawled in the dirt. Sehun grabs the chains of Zitao’s swing and twists so they’re facing each other.

“Cheesy bad or cheesy good?”

Zitao reaches over to draw Sehun closer, the chains on the swing groaning under the weight. “Cheesy good.”

He smiles and Sehun kisses him even if the angle is awkward. The air is muggy, the plastic of the seat is uncomfortable and Sehun thinks he might be a little bit in love. He sighs into Zitao’s mouth, wondering if relinquishing his hold on one of the chains would be disastrous.

“Hey,” Zitao whispers, running his thumb over Sehun’s lip. “Is it too soon to ask if I can blow you?” Sehun lets go of both chains in shock, letting them swing apart from each other. “Ok, yeah, that was too soon.”

Shaking his head, Sehun pulls himself back together. “No. No, you just - you don’t ask something like that. You just do it.”

“So you’re telling me I can blow you?” The smile is back on Zitao’s face and Sehun blushes, cheeks burning and stomach flipping because yes.

“Wait,” he says, halting Zitao’s forward progress. “We can’t just defile such an important piece of my childhood!”

“So you don’t want me to blow you?”

Sehun groans and stands, brushing off the back of his jeans. “Not on the swings.” Zitao takes his hand and Sehun leads them over to the slide. “Jongin and I spent way too much time on them when we were kids.”

It’s not really tall enough for them to stand upright, but it provides cover and Zitao closes in until Sehun’s back presses against the metal bars that masquerade as steps. “Don’t talk about Jongin when I’m trying to get in your pants.”

“Shut up and blow me.” There’s no malice in his words and Zitao’s narrow eyes are making his knees weak. If he doesn’t do something soon, Sehun will be the one down in the dirt with his hands in Zitao’s pants.

Zitao isn’t gentle, doesn’t leave any room for Sehun to breathe when he kisses him. Lips clash and tongues curl around each other and Sehun isn’t quiet, his moans spilling into the night air. His arousal hits hard and fast, but it’s no surprise because he’s been worked up since the movie. Zitao’s palm drags down the front of his jeans and Sehun pushes into it, whines when the pressure is gone and reaches down to help take them off. It’s difficult running his pants to mid-thigh, but that’s because Jongin dressed him in skinnies again. Which also means there’s nothing underneath.

Sehun’s head hits against a metal bar when Zitao wraps fingers around his cock and pumps. His mouth falls open to drag in air, fighting against the urge to pull Zitao in for another kiss because he wants his mouth somewhere else right now.

“Hold on to me,” Zitao says and then drops to his knees. Sehun looks down, watching as Zitao strokes him a few more times before licking over the head of his cock. And now Sehun holds on, one hand fisting in Zitao’s hair for support and the other wrapping around the slide stairs.

The swings are still creaking in the background and there are crickets chirping in the grass and Zitao is somehow making all that disappear. Sehun whines, biting down on his bottom lip just in case anyone is around. It feels like a punch in the gut when Zitao takes all of him into his mouth, runs his tongue over prominent veins and then sucks. Sehun’s feet slide in the dirt and Zitao holds him steady with a hand on his hip.

Zitao is amazing with his mouth. His cheeks hollow and he swallows and Sehun cries out, releasing his lip. His head falls forward to watch and the sight of Zitao looking up at him heightens everything tenfold. He aches for release, for more and more and when Zitao takes the base of Sehun’s cock in hand and squeezes, it’s nearly over. A few more bobs of his head and Sehun has to push Zitao away because he can’t form anything more than moans. Zitao gets the point and lets Sehun’s cock fall from his mouth, now moving his hand over the slick skin hard and fast. His back bows inward when he cums, body attempting to curl in on itself with each pump that pulls more from him. Sehun holds his breath until he’s spent, falling back onto the stairs as the rush of his climax makes him dizzy.

“Get up here,” Sehun whispers, all but pulling Zitao up from his knees.

It’s a scramble to get Zitao’s pants unbuttoned, shoving them and his briefs down without bothering with the zipper. Sehun fists his cock, running his hand up and down, thumb smearing precum for an easier stroke. Zitao has his head buried in Sehun’s neck, panting and moaning with every flick of his wrist. He thrusts into Sehun’s hand and he tightens his grip, listening to the delicious way Zitao falls apart in his arms. It’s not long before Zitao stiffens, knees locking and arms shaking as he cums. His body goes limp against Sehun, both of them sweaty and sated and breathing hard. Zitao groans as the last pulses of his orgasm fade, slowly peeling himself away from Sehun.

White decorates Sehun’s hand and shirt and they’re both looking down at the mess in amusement. “Didn’t think this one through, did we?” Zitao laughs, scuffing his shoe in the dirt because there’s cum on it too. His voice is raspy, scratching around the edges and Sehun really enjoys how it sounds.

Sehun makes a face and wipes his hand on his already soiled shirt. Maybe he’ll get lucky and his parents will already be in bed when he gets home. This is not something he wants to explain.

“So how was date night?” Jongin inquires, all pretense of actually doing his History homework dropped. Sehun looks over to find a bunch of doodles on the edges of the paper and zero actual work done. It’s amazing Jongin is a functioning human considering his lack of information absorption.

“Can’t complain,” he answers with a shrug, going back to his own work. If Jongin isn’t going to do his own, he needs to do it for the both of them.

“That’s a dull answer. I want details.”

“We covered your favorite swing in cum,” Sehun teases. “It should rain soon, but I wouldn’t recommend sitting on it for a while.”

“You’re an absolute tool.” Jongin swipes Sehun’s notebook and slaps it against his leg. Sehun grins, going back to his assignment. “At least you’ve stopped with that whole kiss tracking shit,” he says a minute later, flipping open the pages to glean what he can from the hastily scribbled notes.

“I filled the page, so there was no reason to anymore.” Sehun blows a bubble with his gum and pops it with his teeth.

“You’re a lot nicer when you get a little action. I can’t imagine how sugary sweet you’ll be when you finally get laid. It’ll be sophomore year all over again.”

Sehun cringes and scoots away from Jongin a little. “That’s one of those years I’ve suppressed. Please don’t bring it up again.”

“But you were like a kitten!”

“Shut.the.fuck.up.”

“The best part was when you let me pet you.” Sehun lunges and Jongin is too slow to avoid the fist that hits his stomach. “Ow,” he wheezes. “I want my kitty back.” Sehun shoves him off the bed. “You think I should tell Zitao about that spot?”

This time Sehun flushes and buries his face in his comforter. How is he supposed to focus on homework when Jongin’s skewed his train of thought? Kicking the rest of his books over the side and earning a grunt of pain from Jongin, Sehun rolls off and lands on Jongin too. “Movie?”

“Something funny.”

“Alright, but you have to make the popcorn.” Sehun gets up and heads for the door.

“Slave driver!” Jongin calls out after.

They bundle up on the couch, Jongin halfway on top of Sehun so they can share the popcorn with as little movement as possible. It’s a lazy sort of pose they perfected years ago.

“Hey,” Jongin whispers during the opening credits, elbowing Sehun gently in the side. “You know I’m happy for you right?”

Sehun nods and Jongin’s grinning and they both end up laughing because they don’t do mushy moments. “Now shut up so we can watch the movie.”

Zitao’s bedroom is a lot different from Sehun’s. He circles the space that’s still harboring boxes even though he moved in months ago. Where Sehun has years’ worth of photographs and school awards pinned to his wall, there’s an expanse of baby blue that’s hardly been touched. Obviously, Sehun’s attention is drawn to the one picture on the wall. He traces over the familiar features of a Zitao with all black hair and fewer piercings. And then he studies the guy beside him, their arms wrapped around each other.

“That’s Wufan,” Zitao supplies, standing behind Sehun with his chin on his shoulder. “My best friend.”

“You look happy here.” Sehun presses his thumb over the image of Zitao’s face, running down until his hand drops. “Happier than you do here.”

Zitao sighs and the air runs down Sehun’s shirt, creating a path of chill bumps in its wake. “I’m happy like that when I’m with you.” Arms wrap around Sehun’s waist and pull him back as Zitao nuzzles his face against the skin of his neck. “You feel like home,” he mumbles.

Sehun spins, startling Zitao enough to loosen his grip before he’s tugging his boyfriend in for a kiss. He’s needy and clinging and trying to touch as much of Zitao as he can; unspoken proof of how much he wants him. Zitao seems to understand, taking Sehun’s face in his hands as he returns every kiss. When Sehun whines for more, surging forward and nearly knocking them both to the floor, Zitao takes control, holds him steady enough to waddle walk him to the bed.

There’s no one else at home, Zitao’s parents gone until tomorrow because they’re working the graveyard shift at the hospital. Knowing there’s no one around to possibly walk in or interrupt, Sehun’s confidence grows. It’s been a week since their date and they’ve barely had a chance to be alone aside from stolen moments in the school bathrooms. And those aren’t particularly romantic. Sehun’s parents are too nosy for their own good.

Zitao has Sehun pressed in the sheets, shirt off and pink tinged hair mussed as Sehun returns the favor. Muscle flexes under Sehun’s fingertips, Zitao shifting his weight from one arm to the other so he can toss his shirt aside. It all feels a little surreal; Zitao’s lips on his neck, trailing down to his chest to tease over nipples. Sehun’s breathing picks up speed, chest heaving faster the lower Zitao travels. Dark eyes look up to meet his own and Zitao hooks his fingers in the loops of Sehun’s jeans to tug them down with ease.

Desire outweighs any lingering doubts or nervousness and Sehun’s confidence surfaces, leads his actions as he dips his hands under denim to knead Zitao’s ass, rutting up against him for friction. He’s already hard and demanding and Zitao is starting to catch on. His pants are discarded along with his briefs and Sehun won’t let him climb back over him until he gets rid of his socks too.

The bottle of lube Zitao pulls out from between his bed and nightstand still has the shrink wrap around it. Sehun watches, half in frustration and half in amusement as he fights to get the plastic off, letting out a triumphant cheer when it peels away. “Hurry up,” Sehun whines, lifting his hips and nearly throwing Zitao off balance. He gets a slap on the thigh for his impatience.

“Now say please,” Zitao commands, mouth just over Sehun’s and lubed fingers teasing around his entrance.

Sehun doesn’t want to give in, wants to play the part of a petulant lover a little longer, but his cock is throbbing and Zitao is unbelievably hot when he takes charge. “Please,” he whispers, leaning up to nip at Zitao’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Please.”

Zitao slides one finger inside and Sehun gasps, bucking his hips down to take it in further. His legs wrap around Zitao’s for support so he can rock his hips upward. The second finger has his back arching and Zitao moaning because Sehun has managed to slide a hand between their bodies and start stroking his cock. Sehun squeezes and pumps to the rhythm Zitao’s set with his fingers as they stare each other down. Hot breath hits his face, cooling sweat covered skin each time Zitao exhales.

Three fingers work him open and he abandons Zitao’s cock to grab the condom on the nightstand. He can barely get the wrapper open, hands shaking from so much stimulation. Arousal fogs his senses, threatens to drown him and his entire world narrows to Zitao. Zitao sits up to let Sehun roll the condom on, watching closely as rubs lube over his length, stroking to make sure he’s thoroughly coated.

Sehun pushes Zitao off balance, makes him sit on the bed as he crawls in his lap. Wrapping arms around Zitao’s neck, he leans down for a kiss, all tongue and saliva and lust. “Please,” he sighs.

The push in leaves Sehun dizzy, forgetting to breathe, his nails biting into Zitao’s back. He sinks down slowly until he’s seated with Zitao’s cock throbbing inside him. Fingers trail up his spine, curling into damp strands of hair and holding tight. Zitao yanks Sehun’s head back by his hair and thrusts up, eliciting a moan that’s louder and rougher than he’s ever made. Sehun may be on top, but Zitao makes it known that he’s still in charge.

Heat plays over his skin, sweat trickles down his neck and Zitao keeps him together with choppy snaps of his hips that drive all the air out of his lungs. He scrambles to keep up, to brace his weight on his knees and lift. The flared tip of Zitao’s cock glides over Sehun’s prostate with every in and out and the dull pleasure threatens to drag him under. It winds tight, the pressure growing between his legs. He’s a moaning mess, bouncing faster as Zitao fucks him open harder.

Their mouths meet in brief kisses, foreheads resting together as Zitao takes Sehun’s hand and laces their fingers. The intimate gesture makes his chest ache and their pace slows. Sehun rocks languidly in his lap, the rush and urgency all but gone. Zitao brushes his lips against the hollow of his throat, over his collarbones and up to his mouth, stopping at his jaw to nose along the bottom. It very nearly takes his mind off the intense need to finish, to ride Zitao until they’re both drained. But not quite.

“Zitao,” he whimpers, shuddering when he rocks a little harder.

Sehun’s back hits the mattress and then arches off because Zitao is slamming forward without a moment’s hesitation. Legs come up to wrap around Zitao’s waist, holding tight to his sides. Sehun braces his hands on the wall above him, uses the leverage to push down into every thrust. His thighs are trembling and his voice is cracking. Zitao’s going so fast and Sehun doesn’t know if he can take it.

When Zitao reaches down to pump his cock, Sehun's moans die in his throat and his hips jerk into the touch. The bed knocks against the wall. Zitao moans into the crook of Sehun’s neck. The hand around his cock jerks fast, a slick up and down that forces Sehun over the edge. He cums hard, eyes rolling back in his head and mouth open in a silent scream. His entire body shakes with each wave, each stroke from Zitao’s hand as he fucks him through it.

Sehun goes lax, deadweight on the mattress except for the clenching muscles in his ass. It’s all he has the energy for and it’s enough to send Zitao to his own orgasm quickly after. Sehun watches it play out on his face, takes note of the furrow in his brow, the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip so hard the skin turns pink and his nose twitches the littlest bit with each pulse. By the time Zitao slows to a stop, Sehun has a sloppy grin on his face and arms draped around his neck.

Zitao chuckles and leans in, planting a kiss on Sehun’s mouth before falling on top of him. It’s sweaty and sticky and too hot to be smothered, but Sehun wraps his legs around him to keep him there. Zitao nuzzles into his neck with a pleased hum and Sehun pushes damp hair back so it stops itching his forehead.

“We should probably shower,” Zitao mumbles, but doesn’t make a move to get up.

“Uh huh,” Sehun agrees as his eyes slip closed.

“And open a window.”

This time Sehun doesn’t answer, already drifting off to sleep. Zitao doesn’t say anything else.

Sehun is fidgeting in his seat, eager for the bell to ring because it’s the last class of the day. Mondays are never good and the end of the school day on Mondays is even worse. His attention span lingers around only enough to keep an eye on the clock, watching the seconds tick by painfully slow.

Jongin isn’t doing much better beside him, elbow propped on his desk with his head in his hand as he teeters on the edge of awake and asleep. Sehun slides down in his seat, stretching his legs out carelessly. He’s also scribbling in his notebook, a little heart beside the letters Z&T.

“I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” Jongin whispers.

“Doing what?” he whispers back.

“That.”

Sehun looks down to where Jongin’s pointing and grins. The first page in his notebook may be gone, but now there are hatch marks on the inside cover. Four of them. “This isn’t for kissing.”

The teacher clears her throat and they both look up guilty and pretend to pay attention again.

“What’s it for?” Jongin mouths.

Sehun flips to a blank page in his notebook and jots down the answer - sex. Jongin takes one look and rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a chick.” Jongin scoffs, his voice far too loud.

The teacher stops beside his desk and glares down at him. “Detention.”

Jongin groans and Sehun stifles a laugh. Ah, justice served ala Sehun-doesn’t-have-to-lift-a-finger style.

The teacher goes back to the lesson and Sehun starts tracing over his hatch marks again. Their first time was in Zitao’s bed, the second on his couch later that night because falling asleep early meant they both woke up hours before dawn. After that, Zitao wanted to take him to breakfast, but they needed a shower. Three was with Sehun bent over the bathroom sink, holding on for dear life as he watched Zitao thrusting into him from behind. And after an eventful day of window shopping and showing Zitao all the decent places that line the downtown streets (mall not included because kids from school go there), Zitao takes Sehun home and promptly bids him farewell against his wall. Sehun had to make him switch from the one by the door because there were too many pictures of Jongin. His ass is still sore, but it was worth it.

Sehun’s fingers itch, almost as if already plotting on how to get the next mark in his notebook. He glances over at Jongin and then down at the lines. Well, if Jongin is going to be in detention, he won’t be needing his car for at least an hour.