post #13

[seoulfulness]

Fics ( #12).

How Hard Was That? GLAM, Zinni/Trinity
Safehouse SNSD, Taeyeon/Seohyun
Intriguing Secret, Hyosung/Sunhwa [warning: murder]
Six and Seven Girl's Day, Minah/Hyeri
Approved Block B/B.A.P., Jaehyo/Himchan
Fiction EXO, Kai/Suho
Untitled Infinite, Myungsoo/Sungyeol
One Sequin at a Time EXO, Suho/Kai
Why don't we measure the coefficient of

Comments

shut up and let me pay the rent, exo, baekhyun/d.o [2/2]

[anonymous]

“Oh, indulge me,” Baekhyun continues, ignoring the breakfast and falling into the chair next to Kyungsoo, still stark naked under a thin, untied bathrobe. He’s close enough that Kyungsoo can see the bits of stubble dotting his chin (that no one can really see from hundreds of feet away, anyway).

Kyungsoo lets out a cough and types his password in, clearly aware of Baekhyun’s eyes on his fingers. “What, you or your fame?”

“Why do you work?” Baekhyun asks, poking at the laptop keys. “I work hard enough for both of us.”

“Yeah, cancelling your tour because you had no clothes to wear, such a productive group of people, you and your fucking-famous bunch,” Kyungsoo says, and Baekhyun grins-and Kyungsoo knows that Baekhyun’s won, because he’s gotten Kyungsoo to do just that, to indulge him.

Baekhyun digs out a half-smoked cigarette from his robe pocket. “Why do you work?” he says, his voice a husky drawl, and Kyungsoo shrugs.

“To pay the rent.”

And then Baekhyun’s suddenly there, right in front of him in all his half-smoked glory, looming over Kyungsoo with dry, scraggly hair pressing into Kyungsoo’s face, a hot, thick breath in his ear murmuring, “Just shut up and let me pay the rent.”

People who own the stage always have ulterior motives, because for Kyungsoo, living with Baekhyun is far too easy, because letting himself get pulled into spoiled lives and searing hot kisses, smoke-filled and suffocating, with Baekhyun dragging his tongue all over Kyungsoo’s lips with this insistent push, like Baekhyun wants something that Kyungsoo doesn’t know that he has. Ulterior motives.

(When Baekhyun pulls away, his fingers are still ice-cold on Kyungsoo’s neck, sending a shiver down his back and a soft but uncontrolled moan from his lips.

“How do you hold the microphone with that shitty circulation of yours?” Kyungsoo says a couple minutes later, watching Baekhyun rummage through the refrigerator for a bottle of beer.

“Oh, easy,” Baekhyun says, his fingers wrapping slowly around the neck of the bottle, drops of condensation slipping through the cracks. Kyungsoo swallows. “With just the right amount of effort.”

You trick it into holding you.)