[fic] satin and lace; taohun
Title: satin and lace
Pairings: tao/fem!sehun, brief suho/fem!luhan
Rating: R
Length: 1,790w
Summary: Sehun decides that she's comfortable wearing only her lingerie around her male best friend. (prompt)
The first time it happens, they've been friends for a year. They're in Sehun's dorm, watching some crappy old martial arts movie in the dark and scarfing down popcorn. Sehun's roommate Kai isn't home - she's taken to clubbing of late, coming back sweaty, muscles aching, just a little drunk, and sometimes forgetting to get up the next morning in time for class.
It's July, the middle of summer, and their air conditioner hasn't been working for weeks. He hasn't been dancing, but Zitao can feel beads of sweat coursing down his own neck, slowly but surely seeping into the black wifebeater he's wearing. Next to him, Sehun is fidgeting - that's normal, she's never been able to sit still - and bitching under her breath about the heat. Zitao murmurs a soft agreement, offering his friend a small, sympathetic smile before his attention shifts back to whatever the movie's typical Bruce Lee wannabe lead is doing.
Sehun's next great shuffle is accompanied by the sound of rustling clothes, but Zitao doesn't look at her until she settles back against him, shoulder bare against his arm and that is not normal because he could have sworn she was wearing a t-shirt a moment ago.
The mistake is looking at her while chewing a mouthful of popcorn, because Zitao promptly chokes several of the kernels back into his windpipe.
Bathed in the flickering light of the television is Oh Sehun's svelte body, skin shining with a light layer of sweat. Oh, and naked from the waist up except for a flimsy, lacy bra. (Zitao thinks it's black, but in the light it's hard to tell.)
Zitao drags his eyes away, back to the TV, and oh-so-casually grabs a cushion to hug.
It gets worse a few weeks later, when Zitao gets back home from a night class to find Sehun sprawled on his bed in a matching set of pink satin, lips pursed in frustration as she fiddles around with his laptop.
Somewhere along the line, Sehun's apparently decided she's comfortable wearing only her lingerie around him. Zitao considers himself lucky - he hasn't popped an awkward boner in front of her (yet, but aren't these things always just a matter of time?) - and while he hardly considers himself used to this new adventure in his life, he's at least learning to cope with it. Somewhat.
He's not entirely sure how he feels about his nearly-naked best friend rolling around on his covers in all her nearly-naked glory (and not for the first time he briefly imagines pressing her into his covers and getting her fully naked, but he shoves the thought away, saving it for later, when he's alone and can savor it properly as his hips pump up into his own hand). But despite his general uncertainty, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, offering her a small smile. "Shixun," he says, "what's wrong?"
She just sighs, and angles her laptop towards him. And Zitao can only sigh too, because it's Miranda Kerr. Again.
"Look at her," Sehun sighs at the laptop, and she sits up, crossing her legs and looking down at her chest. "Why can't I have tits like hers? Mine are so small."
She looks up at Zitao, wrinkling her nose, pouting, and Zitao feels like he's meant to say something, to encourage her somehow, but somehow he feels like that's not going to work very well. Because when she's sitting in front of him, skin curving in all the right places against her pink bra and the barest hints of her nipples starting to show through the material (thank every God known to man for air conditioning), the only words on his tongue regarding Sehun's tits come straight from his dick.
In the end the only thing he manages is a weak smile as he tells her: "Don't be like that, Hun-ah. Yours are... nice."
Sehun just gives him a Look, and flops back over onto her stomach, sighing more at the screen.
"So I read online that there's these exercises that can make your tits bigger," she says, at the mall of all places and just when Zitao has sipped from his cola.
"Oh, yeah?" he asks, voice cool, adjusting his sunglasses and, he thinks, doing a pretty good job of feigning mild disinterest.
Sehun makes a sound of confirmation, and her voice is warm, cheerful. "Yeah, so maybe I can make mine nice and big and round just like hers."
When he comes around one afternoon to find Sehun fully clothed and the air conditioner belting out cold air, he's almost disappointed.
But it's a feeling that doesn't get the chance to last for long. Once the door closes behind him and he's kicked his shoes off into the entranceway, Sehun reaches for his wrist, tugging lightly and guiding until his palm is laid flat over her clothed breast.
"What do you think?" she asks, voice laced with genuine concern. "Do they feel bigger to you?"
Zitao blinks, and stares.
Sehun rolls her eyes and lets go of his hand. It falls limply to his side.
She huffs, turning away and muttering to herself in Korean, words too quiet and too quick for him to catch.
"Hey," he says one day. Their exams are fast approaching and they're in her dorm again, stretched out on her bedroom floor with textbooks surrounding them as they read and highlight and annotate - or at least, Sehun is reading and highlighting and annotating. Zitao is far too busy studying the way his friend's ass curves against the blue lace of her panties. "Hey," he says again, and drags his gaze back up the length of her slim, pale body, back to her face, and her brown eyes are now looking at him, curious. "What's the deal with the lingerie? Your air conditioner's fixed now."
Sehun laughs, the sound soft and sweet, her shoulders rising in a quick shrug. "I dunno," she tells him. "It's comfortable, I guess?"
And Zitao frowns, because for some reason he figured it would be the opposite of that. "Comfortable?" he asks, his confusion leaking into his voice until it's audible, and Sehun's brows raise slightly as she watches him. "Hun-ah, you know I'm a guy, right?"
She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head in amusement, light brown waves of hair falling over her shoulder. (And Zitao can't help but notice that the rainbow-dyed tips end right where her cleavage starts. He shifts on the bed, swallowing hard.) "No, really? I hadn't noticed." Another laugh, and then she rolls over onto her back and Zitao nearly chokes on his own spit. "It's not like you're looking anyway, oppa."
He's so busy reminding himself not to just reach out and grab her that for a moment her words go untranslated in his mind. When he does finally understand them for what they are, he raises his brows at her. "I'm not?" Because yes, yes he fucking is. Even right in this very moment.
But Oh Sehun is apparently blind, because her response to his question is to nod, and her smile is different somehow, almost knowing, and suddenly Zitao has a very, very bad feeling about this. "Well, yeah," she replies. "Our interests are the same, right?"
Zitao blinks.
And then he blinks again.
"Wait a fucking minute," he starts, and he's aware that his voice, indignant as it's ever going to get, has taken on an embarrassingly high pitch. "You think I'm gay?"
And suddenly, Sehun looks a lot more uncertain than he's ever seen her look. "Um. Yes?" she replies, and her voice is small, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks as she suddenly realizes that she's lounging around on her bed, nearly-naked, with her definitely-not-gay best friend. Her arms come up, folding across her petite breasts as if to shield them from him. "You're... you're not?"
What a ridiculous question. Zitao's eyes flare, and he sits up, looking down at his squirming, increasingly-embarrassed friend. And then he takes her slender wrists in one hand, long fingers wrapping around them easily as he pins her arms over her head. "No," he says, and he knows from the way her eyes widen that she can feel his quickly-growing erection as he straddles her stomach. A soft protest forms on her lips, but he quietens it as quickly as it starts with a press of his mouth to hers.
From there, it's easy. Sehun falls apart under him, moaning and keening and arching, submissive and pliant as Zitao explores her pale skin, licking and biting and sucking marks across her perfect breasts. She's soaking wet before his hand even slides between her legs, and he fucks her with his tongue, with his fingers, barely giving her time to fall from each high before he starts over. And when he finally shudders to his own release inside her, she's limp from the exertion, whimpering into his mouth as he licks over her lips.
"How many times was that, Sehun-ah?" he murmurs, pressing light kisses down her jaw and over her neck. "I lost count."
"Me too," she whispers, fingers tangling into his hair. "It was... a lot, though?" She's silent for a few moments, breathing ragged, before she admits: "A gay guy wouldn't be able to do that, huh."
Zitao laughs.
"Zitao, how many times do I have to ask you not to smoke in here?" He looks up, a little taken aback, but Joonmyun isn't waiting for an answer, plucking the cigarette from his roommate's hand and crushing it in the ashtray. Usually, Zitao would complain, but he's a little preoccupied.
It's September. Across the other side of the dorm room, Sehun's hard at work on her tit-growing exercises. Only now she has a partner in crime - Joonmyun's new girlfriend Luhan, whose bright eagerness for her boyfriend extends to everything in her life, apparently, including strange, unproven exercise theories.
Joonmyun's phone buzzes, and he checks it briefly before he looks up at his girlfriend, and his voice is always so soft when he talks to her: "Xiao Lu, our ride's here."
She springs up, light as ever on her feet, and kisses Sehun's cheeks. "See you tomorrow!" the girls tell each other, and then Joonmyun and Luhan leave and once again Zitao's dorm is empty save for him and Sehun.
"It's so hot," Sehun complains once the door closes safely behind them. "Why does Myunnie-oppa always turn the air conditioning off?"
Her words are innocent, but the smile on her face as her summer dress pools at her feet is anything but.
She's wearing red lace.
Zitao grins.
Pairings: tao/fem!sehun, brief suho/fem!luhan
Rating: R
Length: 1,790w
Summary: Sehun decides that she's comfortable wearing only her lingerie around her male best friend. (prompt)
The first time it happens, they've been friends for a year. They're in Sehun's dorm, watching some crappy old martial arts movie in the dark and scarfing down popcorn. Sehun's roommate Kai isn't home - she's taken to clubbing of late, coming back sweaty, muscles aching, just a little drunk, and sometimes forgetting to get up the next morning in time for class.
It's July, the middle of summer, and their air conditioner hasn't been working for weeks. He hasn't been dancing, but Zitao can feel beads of sweat coursing down his own neck, slowly but surely seeping into the black wifebeater he's wearing. Next to him, Sehun is fidgeting - that's normal, she's never been able to sit still - and bitching under her breath about the heat. Zitao murmurs a soft agreement, offering his friend a small, sympathetic smile before his attention shifts back to whatever the movie's typical Bruce Lee wannabe lead is doing.
Sehun's next great shuffle is accompanied by the sound of rustling clothes, but Zitao doesn't look at her until she settles back against him, shoulder bare against his arm and that is not normal because he could have sworn she was wearing a t-shirt a moment ago.
The mistake is looking at her while chewing a mouthful of popcorn, because Zitao promptly chokes several of the kernels back into his windpipe.
Bathed in the flickering light of the television is Oh Sehun's svelte body, skin shining with a light layer of sweat. Oh, and naked from the waist up except for a flimsy, lacy bra. (Zitao thinks it's black, but in the light it's hard to tell.)
Zitao drags his eyes away, back to the TV, and oh-so-casually grabs a cushion to hug.
It gets worse a few weeks later, when Zitao gets back home from a night class to find Sehun sprawled on his bed in a matching set of pink satin, lips pursed in frustration as she fiddles around with his laptop.
Somewhere along the line, Sehun's apparently decided she's comfortable wearing only her lingerie around him. Zitao considers himself lucky - he hasn't popped an awkward boner in front of her (yet, but aren't these things always just a matter of time?) - and while he hardly considers himself used to this new adventure in his life, he's at least learning to cope with it. Somewhat.
He's not entirely sure how he feels about his nearly-naked best friend rolling around on his covers in all her nearly-naked glory (and not for the first time he briefly imagines pressing her into his covers and getting her fully naked, but he shoves the thought away, saving it for later, when he's alone and can savor it properly as his hips pump up into his own hand). But despite his general uncertainty, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, offering her a small smile. "Shixun," he says, "what's wrong?"
She just sighs, and angles her laptop towards him. And Zitao can only sigh too, because it's Miranda Kerr. Again.
"Look at her," Sehun sighs at the laptop, and she sits up, crossing her legs and looking down at her chest. "Why can't I have tits like hers? Mine are so small."
She looks up at Zitao, wrinkling her nose, pouting, and Zitao feels like he's meant to say something, to encourage her somehow, but somehow he feels like that's not going to work very well. Because when she's sitting in front of him, skin curving in all the right places against her pink bra and the barest hints of her nipples starting to show through the material (thank every God known to man for air conditioning), the only words on his tongue regarding Sehun's tits come straight from his dick.
In the end the only thing he manages is a weak smile as he tells her: "Don't be like that, Hun-ah. Yours are... nice."
Sehun just gives him a Look, and flops back over onto her stomach, sighing more at the screen.
"So I read online that there's these exercises that can make your tits bigger," she says, at the mall of all places and just when Zitao has sipped from his cola.
"Oh, yeah?" he asks, voice cool, adjusting his sunglasses and, he thinks, doing a pretty good job of feigning mild disinterest.
Sehun makes a sound of confirmation, and her voice is warm, cheerful. "Yeah, so maybe I can make mine nice and big and round just like hers."
When he comes around one afternoon to find Sehun fully clothed and the air conditioner belting out cold air, he's almost disappointed.
But it's a feeling that doesn't get the chance to last for long. Once the door closes behind him and he's kicked his shoes off into the entranceway, Sehun reaches for his wrist, tugging lightly and guiding until his palm is laid flat over her clothed breast.
"What do you think?" she asks, voice laced with genuine concern. "Do they feel bigger to you?"
Zitao blinks, and stares.
Sehun rolls her eyes and lets go of his hand. It falls limply to his side.
She huffs, turning away and muttering to herself in Korean, words too quiet and too quick for him to catch.
"Hey," he says one day. Their exams are fast approaching and they're in her dorm again, stretched out on her bedroom floor with textbooks surrounding them as they read and highlight and annotate - or at least, Sehun is reading and highlighting and annotating. Zitao is far too busy studying the way his friend's ass curves against the blue lace of her panties. "Hey," he says again, and drags his gaze back up the length of her slim, pale body, back to her face, and her brown eyes are now looking at him, curious. "What's the deal with the lingerie? Your air conditioner's fixed now."
Sehun laughs, the sound soft and sweet, her shoulders rising in a quick shrug. "I dunno," she tells him. "It's comfortable, I guess?"
And Zitao frowns, because for some reason he figured it would be the opposite of that. "Comfortable?" he asks, his confusion leaking into his voice until it's audible, and Sehun's brows raise slightly as she watches him. "Hun-ah, you know I'm a guy, right?"
She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head in amusement, light brown waves of hair falling over her shoulder. (And Zitao can't help but notice that the rainbow-dyed tips end right where her cleavage starts. He shifts on the bed, swallowing hard.) "No, really? I hadn't noticed." Another laugh, and then she rolls over onto her back and Zitao nearly chokes on his own spit. "It's not like you're looking anyway, oppa."
He's so busy reminding himself not to just reach out and grab her that for a moment her words go untranslated in his mind. When he does finally understand them for what they are, he raises his brows at her. "I'm not?" Because yes, yes he fucking is. Even right in this very moment.
But Oh Sehun is apparently blind, because her response to his question is to nod, and her smile is different somehow, almost knowing, and suddenly Zitao has a very, very bad feeling about this. "Well, yeah," she replies. "Our interests are the same, right?"
Zitao blinks.
And then he blinks again.
"Wait a fucking minute," he starts, and he's aware that his voice, indignant as it's ever going to get, has taken on an embarrassingly high pitch. "You think I'm gay?"
And suddenly, Sehun looks a lot more uncertain than he's ever seen her look. "Um. Yes?" she replies, and her voice is small, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks as she suddenly realizes that she's lounging around on her bed, nearly-naked, with her definitely-not-gay best friend. Her arms come up, folding across her petite breasts as if to shield them from him. "You're... you're not?"
What a ridiculous question. Zitao's eyes flare, and he sits up, looking down at his squirming, increasingly-embarrassed friend. And then he takes her slender wrists in one hand, long fingers wrapping around them easily as he pins her arms over her head. "No," he says, and he knows from the way her eyes widen that she can feel his quickly-growing erection as he straddles her stomach. A soft protest forms on her lips, but he quietens it as quickly as it starts with a press of his mouth to hers.
From there, it's easy. Sehun falls apart under him, moaning and keening and arching, submissive and pliant as Zitao explores her pale skin, licking and biting and sucking marks across her perfect breasts. She's soaking wet before his hand even slides between her legs, and he fucks her with his tongue, with his fingers, barely giving her time to fall from each high before he starts over. And when he finally shudders to his own release inside her, she's limp from the exertion, whimpering into his mouth as he licks over her lips.
"How many times was that, Sehun-ah?" he murmurs, pressing light kisses down her jaw and over her neck. "I lost count."
"Me too," she whispers, fingers tangling into his hair. "It was... a lot, though?" She's silent for a few moments, breathing ragged, before she admits: "A gay guy wouldn't be able to do that, huh."
Zitao laughs.
"Zitao, how many times do I have to ask you not to smoke in here?" He looks up, a little taken aback, but Joonmyun isn't waiting for an answer, plucking the cigarette from his roommate's hand and crushing it in the ashtray. Usually, Zitao would complain, but he's a little preoccupied.
It's September. Across the other side of the dorm room, Sehun's hard at work on her tit-growing exercises. Only now she has a partner in crime - Joonmyun's new girlfriend Luhan, whose bright eagerness for her boyfriend extends to everything in her life, apparently, including strange, unproven exercise theories.
Joonmyun's phone buzzes, and he checks it briefly before he looks up at his girlfriend, and his voice is always so soft when he talks to her: "Xiao Lu, our ride's here."
She springs up, light as ever on her feet, and kisses Sehun's cheeks. "See you tomorrow!" the girls tell each other, and then Joonmyun and Luhan leave and once again Zitao's dorm is empty save for him and Sehun.
"It's so hot," Sehun complains once the door closes safely behind them. "Why does Myunnie-oppa always turn the air conditioning off?"
Her words are innocent, but the smile on her face as her summer dress pools at her feet is anything but.
She's wearing red lace.
Zitao grins.