✧ exo + got7 » three drabbles ✧
✖ you left your mark on me
✖ jongdae/sehun; nc-17
✖ sehun’s a little possessive. okay, he’s a lot possessive. 2087w.
☠ public sex
✖ kitty and shehzadi said finger fucking so here we are.
“You know, I’m not gonna vanish if you let go of me,” Jongdae smirks, eyebrow arched at Sehun as he glances down at Sehun’s fingers wrapped tightly around Jongdae’s forearm.
“I know,” Sehun huffs, fighting the blush trying to bloom across his cheeks. Sehun knows, objectively, that he can’t possibly have one person’s attention all to himself. Actually, he knows that it’s downright unreasonable but the thing is that somewhere inside of his chest, there’s this clawing ache, this overbearing need for Sehun to have Jongdae all to himself.
It isn’t enough that Jongdae lets Sehun stick to him like glue, that he occasionally wraps his arm around Sehun’s waist, leans in to press a kiss against the length of Sehun’s neck, tongue licking sweat, teeth scraping skin.
“Are you sure?” Jongdae hums, other hand prying Sehun’s fingers loose. He slips his hand through Sehun’s instead, kissing the back of Sehun’s palm easily, winking. Sehun’s stomach twists, and he kind of hates how Jongdae makes everything seem so easy. It’s not Sehun’s fault some guy in the corner keeps checking Jongdae out, eyes sweeping up and down, up and down. Sehun has to swallow the irrational fury every time, the urge to just pin Jongdae to his chest and hiss mine. “Come on, I think Chanyeol has a balcony.”
Sehun shoots the guy in the corner one last look, finds that he’s occupied talking to some girl. He’d been hoping to get at least one viciously self-satisfied smile in, but Sehun’s victory is snatched from him, and he knows it shouldn’t bum him out, can imagine how that might upset Jongdae. It’s not that Sehun thinks Jongdae would ever leave him for someone else, but Sehun’s always been terrible at sharing. Until two years ago, he had trouble accepting that Jongin could have other friends, who weren’t him, but then, Sehun wouldn’t have met Jongdae if not for Jongin.
“You know, he may not have been looking at me,” Jongdae says, prying the door to the balcony open. The air outside is fresher, if dry, summer heat sucking the moisture right out. Sehun feels the slickness between his palm and Jongdae’s, the way sweat rolls down the arch of his spine.
“What?” Sehun watches as Jongdae sinks down onto the recliner Chanyeol’s stuck on the balcony, as out of place as Sehun often feels at parties. He tugs Sehun down, lets Sehun straddle his hips to sit back on his thighs. Jongdae traces along the jut of Sehun’s jaw, an amused smirk playing on his lips, the sort that Sehun finds annoying. “Hyung.”
“He was looking at you,” Jongdae tells him, eyes holding Sehun in place, the humour in his voice gone.
“No, he wasn’t,” Sehun insists. “He kept --”
“Baby,” Jongdae interrupts, “he was sizing me up. He wasn’t interested in me.”
Sehun freezes, soft, “Oh,” escaping his lips. The blush is merciless this time, disappearing right down his chest until Sehun can feel the familiar twinge of guilt mixing in with his nervousness.
The amusement’s back, the corners of Jongdae’s mouth curling up. He pulls Sehun closer, hand wrapping around the back of Sehun’s neck as he captures Sehun’s lips for a bruising kiss, teeth sinking into the plumpness of Sehun’s bottom lip.
“Sorry, hyung,” Sehun mumbles in his mouth, flush against Jongdae’s chest, and despite the heat, Sehun only wants to inch closer, wants to forget where he ends and Jongdae begins.
“S’okay,” Jongdae assures, tongue pressing against Sehun’s. He pulls back, forehead resting against Sehun’s, a hand squeezing Sehun’s ass. “I think he may have noticed you glaring.”
Sehun hates how hot his face feels right now but Jongdae always acts like his jealousy is something cute, something funny, and it almost makes Sehun feel like it might be okay. Still, he feels bad, knows he’s lucky that Jongdae doesn’t find it entirely off-putting.
“Besides,” Jongdae whispers, kissing Sehun softly, “Even if he didn’t, he would have found out that I don’t share very well soon enough. Right, baby?”
“Yes, hyung,” Sehun answers, a shiver running down his spine as he meets Jongdae’s eyes. He feels small, breathless, pinned down by the heat in Jongdae’s stare, the hunger in his hands as they touch him all over, fingers digging into muscle. Leaning in for another kiss, Sehun lets the ache in his chest get the better of him, spark of fire igniting in his belly. He just wants to taste Jongdae, feel his lips, mouth, jaw, neck. The bubbling urge to sink his teeth into Jongdae’s skin, to bruise it red and blue and purple courses through Sehun’s veins.
“Go ahead,” Jongdae encourages, fingers tangled in Sehun’s hair. He’d combed it back for the party, parted it left of center, had waited for Jongdae to tell him he looked good. It’s probably a mess now, but Sehun doesn’t have time to care, not when he can feel Jongdae’s body tense and then relax under him, Sehun’s mouth sucking hickies against his neck, pulling at the neckline of Jongdae’s t-shirt.
Sehun kisses upwards, mouth dragging along the skin of Jongdae’s neck, until Jongdae’s fist tightens in his hair and he yanks Sehun’s head back. Sehun’s cock twitches in his jeans, half-hard, arousal flooding his body. Jongdae’s giving him a cock-sure smile, eyes half-lidded as he purposefully drags a hand down Sehun’s chest, thumb circling the Sehun’s hardened nipple before dipping down. He palms Sehun’s cock teasingly, waits until he hears the hitch in Sehun’s breath before letting go of his hair.
“Who do you belong to Sehun?” Jongdae asks, voice a little quiet, but still entirely sure of itself. Sehun whimpers when Jongdae squeezes his cock, glancing up at Sehun. A gentle breeze blows past them, cool touch doing little to take the edge off of Sehun’s flushed cheeks.
“To you, hyung,” Sehun replies, already a little breathless. He wants so badly for Jongdae to touch him, to claim him but Jongdae only smiles at him.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, unbuttoning Sehun’s jeans. With the other hand, Jongdae hitches up Sehun’s t-shirt, until he’s got it rolled up about halfway up Sehun’s abdomen. Pressing a finger to his lips, Jongdae makes a small shushing sound before he’s got Sehun’s cock in his hand and is pumping laguildly, thumb pushing along the underside of the head of Sehun’s cock. Sehun hisses, eyes squeezing shut as his fingers dig into Jongdae’s shoulders. He already wants more than this.
“Hyung,” Sehun starts, stifling a gasp as Jongdae’s hand twists around his cock, rougher now, tighter. “Hyung, more, please.”
“You have to tell me what you want, baby,” Jongdae laughs, kissing Sehun, tongue licking into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Sehun moans into Jongdae’s mouth, hips jerking up into Jongdae’s hand. He feels desperate, eyes hazy as he drinks in the way Jongdae’s skin glows in the moonlight. Behind them is Chanyeol’s house warming party, and Sehun knows they’re probably being terrible guests right now but it’s not like he’s ever cared about keeping up appearances.
“Hyung, please, fuck me, want you to -- ” Sehun begs, hiccuping as Jongdae’s hand slips past the waistband of his briefs, to grope Sehun’s ass.
“And if someone walks in on us?” Jongdae asks, but he’s already pulling Sehun’s jeans and underwear down, until they’re caught around his thighs, cock and ass on display for the world.
“Don’t care,” Sehun gasps, crumbling against Jongdae when he feels Jongdae’s index finger circle his asshole. “Please, please, please, hyung, I’ll -- fuck.”
Jongdae only chuckles, hand smoothing down Sehun’s hair. “You get three fingers, max. I wanna fuck you at home, watch you ride my cock until you can’t even remember your own name. That sound good?”
Sehun’s body flashes red hot, hips rutting against Jongdae’s belly for any kind of friction. “Yes, yes, hyung, please.”
“You look so pretty when you beg, baby,” Jongdae smirks, kissing Sehun filthy as he lifts his hips up, off the chair to grab his wallet. He pulls out a packet of lube, tearing it open as he watches Sehun squirm in his lap. “Your hands stay on my shoulders. You know the rules.”
There was only one rule that Jongdae really cared about and that was that Sehun never touch his own cock. Beyond that, Jongdae didn’t really get upset if Sehun was too loud, or too clingy, trying to hold onto Jongdae like he was the only thing keeping Sehun grounded.
Sehun nods, face falling into the curve of Jongdae’s neck, mouth pressing open, wet kisses against the skin. Jongdae smooths a hand down his spine, and Sehun can hear the squelch of lube between Jongdae’s fingers, can feel the way his asshole flutters in anticipation.
“Hyung,” he whines, ass pushing back into the hand Jongdae’s using to spread his left cheek open.
“So impatient,” Jongdae reprimands, but he presses a finger to Sehun’s entrance, circles the rim before pushing past the ring of muscle. Sehun groans into Jongdae’s neck, breathing shallow as Jongdae begins to pump the finger into him, Jongdae’s mouth against the shell of Sehun’s ear. “Tell hyung how bad you wanna get fucked, baby.”
Sehun whines, teeth sinking into Jongdae’s neck as Jongdae picks up speed, finger curling against Sehun’s prostate. It sends sparks shooting up Sehun’s spine, the over-sensitive bundle of tissue almost painful as Jongdae’s finger rubs against it. “Hyung, please. You said, you said three fingers.”
“Did I?” Jongdae teases, slipping a second finger in easily. Sehun’s pretty sure he’s still prepped from that morning, when Jongdae had fucked him awake, splatters of fresh cum decorating Sehun’s abdomen as he made his way to the shower.
“More, please, hyung. Want you to fuck me, wanna feel your cock, hyung,” Sehun babbles, pushing back into every thrust Jongdae’s fingers make up into him and he knows three fingers won’t feel like enough, but he wants to make Jongdae happy, wants to come from just three. Desperation clouds his mind, belly spasming as he works himself to completion, Jongdae pushing the third finger in. Sehun muffles a whimper, moaning when Jongdae’s hand wraps around his cock.
“Are you gonna be good for me, Sehun? Are you gonna come? I’ll fuck you so hard when we get home, baby. Make you come until it hurts, until you feel like you can’t live without my cock. You want that, don’t you, baby?” Jongdae purrs in his ear, Sehun’s moans turning into full bodied sobs.
“Yes yes yes,” he pants, and he’s right there, he can feel his balls tighten up, feel the way his body tenses, spine going rigid and Jongdae’s fingers are so rough, so fast as they fuck into him that Sehun’s probably drawn blood from where he’s got his nails digging into Jongdae’s skin. He comes with a shudder, Jongdae swallowing the gasp that escapes him easily with a kiss. He pumps Sehun’s cock dry, fingers slowing down until they hardly move at all. Sehun sags against him, body limp as he evens out his breathing.
“Still with me?” Jongdae asks after a pause, fingers carding through Sehun’s hair.
“Yeah,” Sehun answers, wincing as Jongdae slips his fingers out of him. He wipes his hand clean on Sehun’s underwear and it’s totally gross but Sehun doesn’t have it in him to complain. Jongdae lets him lie on top of him for a little longer, pulling up Sehun’s briefs and jeans with a bit of a struggle.
“Think you can stand?” Jongdae’s got an arm wrapped around Sehun’s waist, hand settled just under the fabric of Sehun’s t-shirt. Sehun thinks about Jongdae’s promises for later and nods his head, making to pull away from Jongdae.
Jongdae grabs him by the chin, leaning in to kiss Sehun possessively, like he might try to devour Sehun whole. “Remember, you belong to me.”
Sehun’s too dazed to respond but Jongdae smirks, pushing Sehun up to stand. “Good boy,” he compliments as he rises off the recliner himself, tugging Sehun back into Chanyeol’s apartment. Briefly, Sehun catches sight of the man from earlier but he’s still enjoying his orgasm induced bliss, the jealousy from earlier gone. He nearly smiles, but remembers what Jongdae told him at the last second.
You belong to me.
Sehun glares as hard as he can manage, giggling when Jongdae gets him out of the apartment and sneaks in a kiss. He didn’t want to belong to anyone else.
✖ finders keepers
✖ kyungsoo/sehun; pg
✖ sehun seems to be missing a shirt. 605w.
✖ for kitty~
Sehun doesn’t notice it’s missing until Junmyeon’s yelling at him to get his ass down to the lobby, they’re late. They’re always late. Somehow they’ve managed to catch all of their flights so he’s not sure how much of a threat being late is anymore.
"Hyung, I can’t find -" The striped shirt, the one he’d worn to bed last night is on Kyungsoo. The one he can’t find.
Kyungsoo arches an eyebrow at him, as if waiting for Sehun to say something, mouth curled up in just the smallest of smirks. Sehun’s brows furrow, the flip flop in his stomach easily ignored because it doesn’t matter what Zitao’s been saying. This doesn’t mean anything.
"What can’t you find, Sehun?" Kyungsoo asks, grabbing his handbag. Sehun’s is still lying open on his half of the bed. "I can help you look for it."
"Ah, no, it’s…it’s nothing, hyung," Sehun answers, tips of his ears burning as he quickly zips up his bag. Their bed’s a mess and normally Sehun doesn’t really care but he wishes he could fix it up right now. He wishes he had a distraction that wasn’t Kyungsoo in his shirt.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Sehun can see the way the sleeves are too long for Kyungsoo, the way the shirt is too big. Sehun bites his lip, grabs his bag and slings it over a shoulder. Kyungsoo follows him out of the room and they set off down the hallway, Sehun wishing desperately that Kyungsoo was in front of him, that he could stare at the white and blue of his shirt against Kyungsoo’s form.
"You know, it was only fair," Kyungsoo comments, nearly too quiet for Sehun to catch.
"What?" Sehun blurts out, thoughtless, heart still beating too fast in his chest. Kyungsoo snorts with a little shake of his head before he glances up at Sehun. He smooths a hand down Sehun’s abdomen, fingers catching on the hem of the grey shirt Sehun threw on that morning.
"I have one just like this," Kyungsoo tells him, and Sehun’s blush, which had only been tingling along the hollows of his cheeks spreads everywhere. "But I can’t seem to find it."
"I, Chanyeol hyung said it was too big for you," Sehun lies, swallowing as he meets Kyungsoo’s eyes. Kyungsoo only looks amused, mouth tilted upwards into a smirk. Sehun pretends that he’s only fisted his hands up because he felt like it, not because they’re sweaty and itching to reach up and curl around Kyungsoo’s wrists.
Kyungsoo tuts, tugging the sleeves of the shirt up. “If you like wearing my clothes so much, why not just tell me?”
"I, I didn’t say that!" Sehun exclaims, the heat in his face spreading down, hot and embarrassing as it travels down the column of his neck to his chest. Fuck.
"Mmm," Kyungsoo hums in agreement, He looks up at Sehun when he’s done fixing Sehun’s sleeves. "You didn’t have to."
Sehun’s knees feel weak, hot flush seeming to have traveled all over his body. “But I wore that last night. It’s dirty.”
"Is it?" Kyungsoo echoes, almost as if he were just indulging Sehun. "It smells pretty clean to me." Lifting the shirt’s neckline up to his nose, Kyungsoo takes a sniff, satisfied as he lets the shirt drop. "Smells just like you."
Sehun’s heart skips a beat, Kyungsoo’s smile entirely too smug as he pats Sehun’s cheek once before setting off down the hallway. By the time Sehun gets his legs to start working, Junmyeon’s come back upstairs to scowl at the two of them for lagging behind.
✖ i got you
✖ jackson/jinyoung; pg-13
✖ jackson thinks he can play prince charming. it sort of goes as planned. 1466w.
Jackson drums his fingers against the bar, third beer of the night hugged to his chest as he scans the place. Mark’s disappeared into the crowd, something about having spotted someone he knew. Having known Mark for some ten years now, he knows this is code for ‘hot girl at ten o’clock’ or something. He feels slightly abandoned, considering he knows he’s probably not going to see Mark for the rest of the night, and for once he’d been the one wanting to crash right after work, but it isn’t every day that Mark Tuan insists they go get smashed.
Some drinking partner.
A loud whine catches his attention and Jackson turns to the left, spotting a good looking guy trying in vain to keep a rather persistent guy to back off. The persistent fella seems to think that if he keeps running his hands down the other guy’s arm every few seconds he might come out of this victorious. Except, before Jackson worked for the PR department of Park&Park International, he used to get the shit kicked out of him for starting preventable fights with guys twice his size. Jackson knows a barely restrained smile when he sees one. He also knows that a guy’s shoulders don’t get that tense unless he wants to take a swing at your nose. Break it right off.
It’s impulsive, Jackson hopping off his seat and heading over to the two guys. He doesn’t bat an eye when he wraps his arm around the guy getting harassed and smiles big and charming, the way he knows will always get him what he wants.
“Hey babe, sorry I’m late,” Jackson grins, attention shifting to take in the tall man looking just a little frightened, mostly crestfallen. “Sorry, I don’t think I know you? Is this a friend, babe?”
Jackson makes a point of glancing back at his ‘babe’, eyes wide and curious. The guy bites back a smile, and Jackson knew he was good looking from four seats over but this close up, he feels a little like he’s been punched in the gut. Jackson’s always had a bit of an affinity for thick, plump lips and eyelashes that go on for miles. Maybe this was a terrible idea; hindsight is 20/20.
“Oh, shit, I -- ” the guy harassing Jackson’s new boyfriend stutters, hands immediately pulled back. He has them up in the air, fingers spread out before they curl inwards and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Any other day and Jackson might have thought he was hot. Jackson wasn’t immune to the bad boy look, but he definitely didn’t like assholes.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd. Jackson grins at the guy he’s still got his arm around, the smallest hint of a smile peeking through as the guy quirks his eyebrow at him.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to thank me,” Jackson insists, extracting himself from the guy and taking the empty seat next to him. He waves to the bartender for another beer, silently asking his damsel in distress if he wants anything.
“I don’t recall asking for your help,” the guy says, licking his lips as he motions to the bartender himself.
“Hey, it’s not every day you get to be someone’s prince charming,” Jackson smirks, shrugging as the bartender sets a beer in front of him. He takes a swig, eyes still fixed on the guy. Jackson notes the expensive dress shirt, tie still done up, straight and smooth. Last time Jackson checked the time it was 9. That’s when Mark had ditched him.
The guy snorts, draining his glass. The bartender pops up out of nowhere, older guy, beard greying. Jackson watches him pour whiskey into the glass and he crinkles his nose, aghast. “Are you always this pompous when you,” and he makes air quotes around the word, “help someone out?”
“You’re making me feel like I shouldn’t have helped at all. Maybe you enjoy getting kicked out of bars for clocking guys in the face?” Jackson retorts, head tilting forward as he fixes this guy with a contemplative look. Mark always tells him he looks stupid when he tries to look smart but what did Mark know, really? He’d permed his hair in the twelfth grade and looked like a poodle at prom.
The guy gives an appreciative hum, conceding the point. “The beer, it’s on me.”
“Ah! So you’re not completely soulless, that’s good to know.”
This gets Jackson a chuckle, and if he’s being completely honest with himself -- he makes a point of doing this -- the way this guy’s eyes crinkle up is pretty high up on Jackson’s list of Most Beautiful Things He’s Ever Seen. Maybe he should abort mission.
“You’re funny, that’s nice,” the guy tells him, chin propped up on his hand as he blinks at Jackson.
“Well, actually, my name’s Jackson. Funny will do, if you’re one of those ‘I can’t remember anyone’s name, oh gosh, I’m so sorry!!’” Jackson exclaims, a hand pressed to his chest dramatically.
“Nice to meet you, Funny. I’m Jinyoung,” the guy introduces, laughing as he leans back in his chair. Jackson even gets a handshake out of the deal.
“Jinyoung!” Jackson repeats, too loud as always. He takes a swig from his beer and grins. “So do you always get hit on by guys who don’t know what no is?”
“Oh,” Jinyoung says, surprised, “that isn’t what this is?” He motions from Jackson to himself, glancing at Jackson with an over exaggerated look of incredulity.
Jackson balks, never one to back down. “What makes you think I’m even interested? Getting kind of ahead yourself, huh, Jinyoung!”
Jinyoung’s laughter is contagious, bright and happy, and Jackson knows he can bring that sort of ease out in people, let them settle right down in their skin. The tension in Jinyoung’s shoulders disappears, hand coming up to loosen his tie.
“I was supposed to meet a potential, I dunno, future girlfriend tonight,” Jinyoung confesses suddenly, smoothing out a napkin in front of him. Jackson, for once, doesn’t interrupt, waiting for the ‘but’ he knows is coming. “Mothers and their blind dates.”
“So where’s the future girlfriend?” Jackson asks, trying to ensure the disappointment doesn't lace into his voice. Normally Jackson doesn’t expect too much from guys he meets in bars, after all, how often did you meet more than a one night stand at bar, but Jackson’s having a little trouble convincing himself that Jinyoung couldn’t be more than that.
“I lied and said I was busy with work,” Jinyoung sighs, a hand running through his hair. “I don’t normally come to bars, don’t have the time, but I’m kinda glad I did.”
Jackson has to bite back a grin from the implication, nodding his head instead. “Is that how you normally pick guys up?”
Jinyoung looks taken aback for a second, before he grins, leaning in toward Jackson. “You’re kind of an asshole.”
“I’ve been told. Good thing I make up for it by being so adorable,” Jackson grins, smiling brightly. Jinyoung’s eyes crinkle up, and he looks so terribly cute that Jackson’s heart seems to stutter to a stop.
“You’re definitely cuter than the girl my mom was trying to set me up with,” Jinyoung musters out, the hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. He can’t seem to look directly at Jackson, and it give Jackson the perfect opportunity to see long eyelashes fanned out against pale skin.
Jackson can’t help the laugh bubbling out of him, he’s always been a little terrible at taking compliments with modesty. “I’m sure she was cute, too, but it’s hard to compare, isn’t it?”
“God, you’re unstoppable,” Jinyoung chuckles, disbelieving. “Wish I had so much confidence.”
“Hey, hey, you’re definitely like an 11,” Jackson assures as he reaches over to run his hand down Jinyoung’s bicep.
“Out of 10?”
“Nah, out of 100,” Jackson snickers back, hands coming up to block the punch Jinyoung throws his way. “Sorry, sorry. You’re feisty, huh.”
“And you’re a horrible prince charming,” Jinyoung retorts, but he’s a lot closer, and if Jackson just tilts his head a little to the right, he could easily just close the gap between them. Seal the deal. Instead, Jackson glances down at Jinyoung’s full lips, a finger grazing down the fabric of Jinyoung’s tie.
“Am I?”
“Yeah,” Jinyoung affirms, but he’s leaned in just the slightest bit more, allowing Jackson to smooth his hand over his abdomen, until it settles at his waist. It’s now or never.
“My place is pretty close by,” Jackson suggests, licking his lips in the process. He watches Jinyoung watch his tongue before meeting Jackson’s eyes.
“Okay.”
✖ jongdae/sehun; nc-17
✖ sehun’s a little possessive. okay, he’s a lot possessive. 2087w.
☠ public sex
✖ kitty and shehzadi said finger fucking so here we are.
“You know, I’m not gonna vanish if you let go of me,” Jongdae smirks, eyebrow arched at Sehun as he glances down at Sehun’s fingers wrapped tightly around Jongdae’s forearm.
“I know,” Sehun huffs, fighting the blush trying to bloom across his cheeks. Sehun knows, objectively, that he can’t possibly have one person’s attention all to himself. Actually, he knows that it’s downright unreasonable but the thing is that somewhere inside of his chest, there’s this clawing ache, this overbearing need for Sehun to have Jongdae all to himself.
It isn’t enough that Jongdae lets Sehun stick to him like glue, that he occasionally wraps his arm around Sehun’s waist, leans in to press a kiss against the length of Sehun’s neck, tongue licking sweat, teeth scraping skin.
“Are you sure?” Jongdae hums, other hand prying Sehun’s fingers loose. He slips his hand through Sehun’s instead, kissing the back of Sehun’s palm easily, winking. Sehun’s stomach twists, and he kind of hates how Jongdae makes everything seem so easy. It’s not Sehun’s fault some guy in the corner keeps checking Jongdae out, eyes sweeping up and down, up and down. Sehun has to swallow the irrational fury every time, the urge to just pin Jongdae to his chest and hiss mine. “Come on, I think Chanyeol has a balcony.”
Sehun shoots the guy in the corner one last look, finds that he’s occupied talking to some girl. He’d been hoping to get at least one viciously self-satisfied smile in, but Sehun’s victory is snatched from him, and he knows it shouldn’t bum him out, can imagine how that might upset Jongdae. It’s not that Sehun thinks Jongdae would ever leave him for someone else, but Sehun’s always been terrible at sharing. Until two years ago, he had trouble accepting that Jongin could have other friends, who weren’t him, but then, Sehun wouldn’t have met Jongdae if not for Jongin.
“You know, he may not have been looking at me,” Jongdae says, prying the door to the balcony open. The air outside is fresher, if dry, summer heat sucking the moisture right out. Sehun feels the slickness between his palm and Jongdae’s, the way sweat rolls down the arch of his spine.
“What?” Sehun watches as Jongdae sinks down onto the recliner Chanyeol’s stuck on the balcony, as out of place as Sehun often feels at parties. He tugs Sehun down, lets Sehun straddle his hips to sit back on his thighs. Jongdae traces along the jut of Sehun’s jaw, an amused smirk playing on his lips, the sort that Sehun finds annoying. “Hyung.”
“He was looking at you,” Jongdae tells him, eyes holding Sehun in place, the humour in his voice gone.
“No, he wasn’t,” Sehun insists. “He kept --”
“Baby,” Jongdae interrupts, “he was sizing me up. He wasn’t interested in me.”
Sehun freezes, soft, “Oh,” escaping his lips. The blush is merciless this time, disappearing right down his chest until Sehun can feel the familiar twinge of guilt mixing in with his nervousness.
The amusement’s back, the corners of Jongdae’s mouth curling up. He pulls Sehun closer, hand wrapping around the back of Sehun’s neck as he captures Sehun’s lips for a bruising kiss, teeth sinking into the plumpness of Sehun’s bottom lip.
“Sorry, hyung,” Sehun mumbles in his mouth, flush against Jongdae’s chest, and despite the heat, Sehun only wants to inch closer, wants to forget where he ends and Jongdae begins.
“S’okay,” Jongdae assures, tongue pressing against Sehun’s. He pulls back, forehead resting against Sehun’s, a hand squeezing Sehun’s ass. “I think he may have noticed you glaring.”
Sehun hates how hot his face feels right now but Jongdae always acts like his jealousy is something cute, something funny, and it almost makes Sehun feel like it might be okay. Still, he feels bad, knows he’s lucky that Jongdae doesn’t find it entirely off-putting.
“Besides,” Jongdae whispers, kissing Sehun softly, “Even if he didn’t, he would have found out that I don’t share very well soon enough. Right, baby?”
“Yes, hyung,” Sehun answers, a shiver running down his spine as he meets Jongdae’s eyes. He feels small, breathless, pinned down by the heat in Jongdae’s stare, the hunger in his hands as they touch him all over, fingers digging into muscle. Leaning in for another kiss, Sehun lets the ache in his chest get the better of him, spark of fire igniting in his belly. He just wants to taste Jongdae, feel his lips, mouth, jaw, neck. The bubbling urge to sink his teeth into Jongdae’s skin, to bruise it red and blue and purple courses through Sehun’s veins.
“Go ahead,” Jongdae encourages, fingers tangled in Sehun’s hair. He’d combed it back for the party, parted it left of center, had waited for Jongdae to tell him he looked good. It’s probably a mess now, but Sehun doesn’t have time to care, not when he can feel Jongdae’s body tense and then relax under him, Sehun’s mouth sucking hickies against his neck, pulling at the neckline of Jongdae’s t-shirt.
Sehun kisses upwards, mouth dragging along the skin of Jongdae’s neck, until Jongdae’s fist tightens in his hair and he yanks Sehun’s head back. Sehun’s cock twitches in his jeans, half-hard, arousal flooding his body. Jongdae’s giving him a cock-sure smile, eyes half-lidded as he purposefully drags a hand down Sehun’s chest, thumb circling the Sehun’s hardened nipple before dipping down. He palms Sehun’s cock teasingly, waits until he hears the hitch in Sehun’s breath before letting go of his hair.
“Who do you belong to Sehun?” Jongdae asks, voice a little quiet, but still entirely sure of itself. Sehun whimpers when Jongdae squeezes his cock, glancing up at Sehun. A gentle breeze blows past them, cool touch doing little to take the edge off of Sehun’s flushed cheeks.
“To you, hyung,” Sehun replies, already a little breathless. He wants so badly for Jongdae to touch him, to claim him but Jongdae only smiles at him.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, unbuttoning Sehun’s jeans. With the other hand, Jongdae hitches up Sehun’s t-shirt, until he’s got it rolled up about halfway up Sehun’s abdomen. Pressing a finger to his lips, Jongdae makes a small shushing sound before he’s got Sehun’s cock in his hand and is pumping laguildly, thumb pushing along the underside of the head of Sehun’s cock. Sehun hisses, eyes squeezing shut as his fingers dig into Jongdae’s shoulders. He already wants more than this.
“Hyung,” Sehun starts, stifling a gasp as Jongdae’s hand twists around his cock, rougher now, tighter. “Hyung, more, please.”
“You have to tell me what you want, baby,” Jongdae laughs, kissing Sehun, tongue licking into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Sehun moans into Jongdae’s mouth, hips jerking up into Jongdae’s hand. He feels desperate, eyes hazy as he drinks in the way Jongdae’s skin glows in the moonlight. Behind them is Chanyeol’s house warming party, and Sehun knows they’re probably being terrible guests right now but it’s not like he’s ever cared about keeping up appearances.
“Hyung, please, fuck me, want you to -- ” Sehun begs, hiccuping as Jongdae’s hand slips past the waistband of his briefs, to grope Sehun’s ass.
“And if someone walks in on us?” Jongdae asks, but he’s already pulling Sehun’s jeans and underwear down, until they’re caught around his thighs, cock and ass on display for the world.
“Don’t care,” Sehun gasps, crumbling against Jongdae when he feels Jongdae’s index finger circle his asshole. “Please, please, please, hyung, I’ll -- fuck.”
Jongdae only chuckles, hand smoothing down Sehun’s hair. “You get three fingers, max. I wanna fuck you at home, watch you ride my cock until you can’t even remember your own name. That sound good?”
Sehun’s body flashes red hot, hips rutting against Jongdae’s belly for any kind of friction. “Yes, yes, hyung, please.”
“You look so pretty when you beg, baby,” Jongdae smirks, kissing Sehun filthy as he lifts his hips up, off the chair to grab his wallet. He pulls out a packet of lube, tearing it open as he watches Sehun squirm in his lap. “Your hands stay on my shoulders. You know the rules.”
There was only one rule that Jongdae really cared about and that was that Sehun never touch his own cock. Beyond that, Jongdae didn’t really get upset if Sehun was too loud, or too clingy, trying to hold onto Jongdae like he was the only thing keeping Sehun grounded.
Sehun nods, face falling into the curve of Jongdae’s neck, mouth pressing open, wet kisses against the skin. Jongdae smooths a hand down his spine, and Sehun can hear the squelch of lube between Jongdae’s fingers, can feel the way his asshole flutters in anticipation.
“Hyung,” he whines, ass pushing back into the hand Jongdae’s using to spread his left cheek open.
“So impatient,” Jongdae reprimands, but he presses a finger to Sehun’s entrance, circles the rim before pushing past the ring of muscle. Sehun groans into Jongdae’s neck, breathing shallow as Jongdae begins to pump the finger into him, Jongdae’s mouth against the shell of Sehun’s ear. “Tell hyung how bad you wanna get fucked, baby.”
Sehun whines, teeth sinking into Jongdae’s neck as Jongdae picks up speed, finger curling against Sehun’s prostate. It sends sparks shooting up Sehun’s spine, the over-sensitive bundle of tissue almost painful as Jongdae’s finger rubs against it. “Hyung, please. You said, you said three fingers.”
“Did I?” Jongdae teases, slipping a second finger in easily. Sehun’s pretty sure he’s still prepped from that morning, when Jongdae had fucked him awake, splatters of fresh cum decorating Sehun’s abdomen as he made his way to the shower.
“More, please, hyung. Want you to fuck me, wanna feel your cock, hyung,” Sehun babbles, pushing back into every thrust Jongdae’s fingers make up into him and he knows three fingers won’t feel like enough, but he wants to make Jongdae happy, wants to come from just three. Desperation clouds his mind, belly spasming as he works himself to completion, Jongdae pushing the third finger in. Sehun muffles a whimper, moaning when Jongdae’s hand wraps around his cock.
“Are you gonna be good for me, Sehun? Are you gonna come? I’ll fuck you so hard when we get home, baby. Make you come until it hurts, until you feel like you can’t live without my cock. You want that, don’t you, baby?” Jongdae purrs in his ear, Sehun’s moans turning into full bodied sobs.
“Yes yes yes,” he pants, and he’s right there, he can feel his balls tighten up, feel the way his body tenses, spine going rigid and Jongdae’s fingers are so rough, so fast as they fuck into him that Sehun’s probably drawn blood from where he’s got his nails digging into Jongdae’s skin. He comes with a shudder, Jongdae swallowing the gasp that escapes him easily with a kiss. He pumps Sehun’s cock dry, fingers slowing down until they hardly move at all. Sehun sags against him, body limp as he evens out his breathing.
“Still with me?” Jongdae asks after a pause, fingers carding through Sehun’s hair.
“Yeah,” Sehun answers, wincing as Jongdae slips his fingers out of him. He wipes his hand clean on Sehun’s underwear and it’s totally gross but Sehun doesn’t have it in him to complain. Jongdae lets him lie on top of him for a little longer, pulling up Sehun’s briefs and jeans with a bit of a struggle.
“Think you can stand?” Jongdae’s got an arm wrapped around Sehun’s waist, hand settled just under the fabric of Sehun’s t-shirt. Sehun thinks about Jongdae’s promises for later and nods his head, making to pull away from Jongdae.
Jongdae grabs him by the chin, leaning in to kiss Sehun possessively, like he might try to devour Sehun whole. “Remember, you belong to me.”
Sehun’s too dazed to respond but Jongdae smirks, pushing Sehun up to stand. “Good boy,” he compliments as he rises off the recliner himself, tugging Sehun back into Chanyeol’s apartment. Briefly, Sehun catches sight of the man from earlier but he’s still enjoying his orgasm induced bliss, the jealousy from earlier gone. He nearly smiles, but remembers what Jongdae told him at the last second.
You belong to me.
Sehun glares as hard as he can manage, giggling when Jongdae gets him out of the apartment and sneaks in a kiss. He didn’t want to belong to anyone else.
✖ finders keepers
✖ kyungsoo/sehun; pg
✖ sehun seems to be missing a shirt. 605w.
✖ for kitty~
Sehun doesn’t notice it’s missing until Junmyeon’s yelling at him to get his ass down to the lobby, they’re late. They’re always late. Somehow they’ve managed to catch all of their flights so he’s not sure how much of a threat being late is anymore.
"Hyung, I can’t find -" The striped shirt, the one he’d worn to bed last night is on Kyungsoo. The one he can’t find.
Kyungsoo arches an eyebrow at him, as if waiting for Sehun to say something, mouth curled up in just the smallest of smirks. Sehun’s brows furrow, the flip flop in his stomach easily ignored because it doesn’t matter what Zitao’s been saying. This doesn’t mean anything.
"What can’t you find, Sehun?" Kyungsoo asks, grabbing his handbag. Sehun’s is still lying open on his half of the bed. "I can help you look for it."
"Ah, no, it’s…it’s nothing, hyung," Sehun answers, tips of his ears burning as he quickly zips up his bag. Their bed’s a mess and normally Sehun doesn’t really care but he wishes he could fix it up right now. He wishes he had a distraction that wasn’t Kyungsoo in his shirt.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Sehun can see the way the sleeves are too long for Kyungsoo, the way the shirt is too big. Sehun bites his lip, grabs his bag and slings it over a shoulder. Kyungsoo follows him out of the room and they set off down the hallway, Sehun wishing desperately that Kyungsoo was in front of him, that he could stare at the white and blue of his shirt against Kyungsoo’s form.
"You know, it was only fair," Kyungsoo comments, nearly too quiet for Sehun to catch.
"What?" Sehun blurts out, thoughtless, heart still beating too fast in his chest. Kyungsoo snorts with a little shake of his head before he glances up at Sehun. He smooths a hand down Sehun’s abdomen, fingers catching on the hem of the grey shirt Sehun threw on that morning.
"I have one just like this," Kyungsoo tells him, and Sehun’s blush, which had only been tingling along the hollows of his cheeks spreads everywhere. "But I can’t seem to find it."
"I, Chanyeol hyung said it was too big for you," Sehun lies, swallowing as he meets Kyungsoo’s eyes. Kyungsoo only looks amused, mouth tilted upwards into a smirk. Sehun pretends that he’s only fisted his hands up because he felt like it, not because they’re sweaty and itching to reach up and curl around Kyungsoo’s wrists.
Kyungsoo tuts, tugging the sleeves of the shirt up. “If you like wearing my clothes so much, why not just tell me?”
"I, I didn’t say that!" Sehun exclaims, the heat in his face spreading down, hot and embarrassing as it travels down the column of his neck to his chest. Fuck.
"Mmm," Kyungsoo hums in agreement, He looks up at Sehun when he’s done fixing Sehun’s sleeves. "You didn’t have to."
Sehun’s knees feel weak, hot flush seeming to have traveled all over his body. “But I wore that last night. It’s dirty.”
"Is it?" Kyungsoo echoes, almost as if he were just indulging Sehun. "It smells pretty clean to me." Lifting the shirt’s neckline up to his nose, Kyungsoo takes a sniff, satisfied as he lets the shirt drop. "Smells just like you."
Sehun’s heart skips a beat, Kyungsoo’s smile entirely too smug as he pats Sehun’s cheek once before setting off down the hallway. By the time Sehun gets his legs to start working, Junmyeon’s come back upstairs to scowl at the two of them for lagging behind.
✖ i got you
✖ jackson/jinyoung; pg-13
✖ jackson thinks he can play prince charming. it sort of goes as planned. 1466w.
Jackson drums his fingers against the bar, third beer of the night hugged to his chest as he scans the place. Mark’s disappeared into the crowd, something about having spotted someone he knew. Having known Mark for some ten years now, he knows this is code for ‘hot girl at ten o’clock’ or something. He feels slightly abandoned, considering he knows he’s probably not going to see Mark for the rest of the night, and for once he’d been the one wanting to crash right after work, but it isn’t every day that Mark Tuan insists they go get smashed.
Some drinking partner.
A loud whine catches his attention and Jackson turns to the left, spotting a good looking guy trying in vain to keep a rather persistent guy to back off. The persistent fella seems to think that if he keeps running his hands down the other guy’s arm every few seconds he might come out of this victorious. Except, before Jackson worked for the PR department of Park&Park International, he used to get the shit kicked out of him for starting preventable fights with guys twice his size. Jackson knows a barely restrained smile when he sees one. He also knows that a guy’s shoulders don’t get that tense unless he wants to take a swing at your nose. Break it right off.
It’s impulsive, Jackson hopping off his seat and heading over to the two guys. He doesn’t bat an eye when he wraps his arm around the guy getting harassed and smiles big and charming, the way he knows will always get him what he wants.
“Hey babe, sorry I’m late,” Jackson grins, attention shifting to take in the tall man looking just a little frightened, mostly crestfallen. “Sorry, I don’t think I know you? Is this a friend, babe?”
Jackson makes a point of glancing back at his ‘babe’, eyes wide and curious. The guy bites back a smile, and Jackson knew he was good looking from four seats over but this close up, he feels a little like he’s been punched in the gut. Jackson’s always had a bit of an affinity for thick, plump lips and eyelashes that go on for miles. Maybe this was a terrible idea; hindsight is 20/20.
“Oh, shit, I -- ” the guy harassing Jackson’s new boyfriend stutters, hands immediately pulled back. He has them up in the air, fingers spread out before they curl inwards and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Any other day and Jackson might have thought he was hot. Jackson wasn’t immune to the bad boy look, but he definitely didn’t like assholes.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd. Jackson grins at the guy he’s still got his arm around, the smallest hint of a smile peeking through as the guy quirks his eyebrow at him.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to thank me,” Jackson insists, extracting himself from the guy and taking the empty seat next to him. He waves to the bartender for another beer, silently asking his damsel in distress if he wants anything.
“I don’t recall asking for your help,” the guy says, licking his lips as he motions to the bartender himself.
“Hey, it’s not every day you get to be someone’s prince charming,” Jackson smirks, shrugging as the bartender sets a beer in front of him. He takes a swig, eyes still fixed on the guy. Jackson notes the expensive dress shirt, tie still done up, straight and smooth. Last time Jackson checked the time it was 9. That’s when Mark had ditched him.
The guy snorts, draining his glass. The bartender pops up out of nowhere, older guy, beard greying. Jackson watches him pour whiskey into the glass and he crinkles his nose, aghast. “Are you always this pompous when you,” and he makes air quotes around the word, “help someone out?”
“You’re making me feel like I shouldn’t have helped at all. Maybe you enjoy getting kicked out of bars for clocking guys in the face?” Jackson retorts, head tilting forward as he fixes this guy with a contemplative look. Mark always tells him he looks stupid when he tries to look smart but what did Mark know, really? He’d permed his hair in the twelfth grade and looked like a poodle at prom.
The guy gives an appreciative hum, conceding the point. “The beer, it’s on me.”
“Ah! So you’re not completely soulless, that’s good to know.”
This gets Jackson a chuckle, and if he’s being completely honest with himself -- he makes a point of doing this -- the way this guy’s eyes crinkle up is pretty high up on Jackson’s list of Most Beautiful Things He’s Ever Seen. Maybe he should abort mission.
“You’re funny, that’s nice,” the guy tells him, chin propped up on his hand as he blinks at Jackson.
“Well, actually, my name’s Jackson. Funny will do, if you’re one of those ‘I can’t remember anyone’s name, oh gosh, I’m so sorry!!’” Jackson exclaims, a hand pressed to his chest dramatically.
“Nice to meet you, Funny. I’m Jinyoung,” the guy introduces, laughing as he leans back in his chair. Jackson even gets a handshake out of the deal.
“Jinyoung!” Jackson repeats, too loud as always. He takes a swig from his beer and grins. “So do you always get hit on by guys who don’t know what no is?”
“Oh,” Jinyoung says, surprised, “that isn’t what this is?” He motions from Jackson to himself, glancing at Jackson with an over exaggerated look of incredulity.
Jackson balks, never one to back down. “What makes you think I’m even interested? Getting kind of ahead yourself, huh, Jinyoung!”
Jinyoung’s laughter is contagious, bright and happy, and Jackson knows he can bring that sort of ease out in people, let them settle right down in their skin. The tension in Jinyoung’s shoulders disappears, hand coming up to loosen his tie.
“I was supposed to meet a potential, I dunno, future girlfriend tonight,” Jinyoung confesses suddenly, smoothing out a napkin in front of him. Jackson, for once, doesn’t interrupt, waiting for the ‘but’ he knows is coming. “Mothers and their blind dates.”
“So where’s the future girlfriend?” Jackson asks, trying to ensure the disappointment doesn't lace into his voice. Normally Jackson doesn’t expect too much from guys he meets in bars, after all, how often did you meet more than a one night stand at bar, but Jackson’s having a little trouble convincing himself that Jinyoung couldn’t be more than that.
“I lied and said I was busy with work,” Jinyoung sighs, a hand running through his hair. “I don’t normally come to bars, don’t have the time, but I’m kinda glad I did.”
Jackson has to bite back a grin from the implication, nodding his head instead. “Is that how you normally pick guys up?”
Jinyoung looks taken aback for a second, before he grins, leaning in toward Jackson. “You’re kind of an asshole.”
“I’ve been told. Good thing I make up for it by being so adorable,” Jackson grins, smiling brightly. Jinyoung’s eyes crinkle up, and he looks so terribly cute that Jackson’s heart seems to stutter to a stop.
“You’re definitely cuter than the girl my mom was trying to set me up with,” Jinyoung musters out, the hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. He can’t seem to look directly at Jackson, and it give Jackson the perfect opportunity to see long eyelashes fanned out against pale skin.
Jackson can’t help the laugh bubbling out of him, he’s always been a little terrible at taking compliments with modesty. “I’m sure she was cute, too, but it’s hard to compare, isn’t it?”
“God, you’re unstoppable,” Jinyoung chuckles, disbelieving. “Wish I had so much confidence.”
“Hey, hey, you’re definitely like an 11,” Jackson assures as he reaches over to run his hand down Jinyoung’s bicep.
“Out of 10?”
“Nah, out of 100,” Jackson snickers back, hands coming up to block the punch Jinyoung throws his way. “Sorry, sorry. You’re feisty, huh.”
“And you’re a horrible prince charming,” Jinyoung retorts, but he’s a lot closer, and if Jackson just tilts his head a little to the right, he could easily just close the gap between them. Seal the deal. Instead, Jackson glances down at Jinyoung’s full lips, a finger grazing down the fabric of Jinyoung’s tie.
“Am I?”
“Yeah,” Jinyoung affirms, but he’s leaned in just the slightest bit more, allowing Jackson to smooth his hand over his abdomen, until it settles at his waist. It’s now or never.
“My place is pretty close by,” Jackson suggests, licking his lips in the process. He watches Jinyoung watch his tongue before meeting Jackson’s eyes.
“Okay.”