you couldn't get much closer (standalone)
kris/chanyeol | porn with plot | NC-17 | 3, 321 words like whoa
author notes: supposed to be a pure PWP. totally inspired by chanyeol in that calvin klein's gala outfit. damn, are you a boy or a gull.
sorry i cropped it. credit to the owners.
right this moment, kris wufan is sipping on his champagne, exchanging greeting with lee sooman; the founder-slash-owner of SMentertainment, one of the most successful idol agencies in south korea, and probably the world, because kris remembers briefly reading about ‘SM town concert in LA’ as the headline of yahoo news a couple of days ago.
the elder had approached him first, out of the blue, and kris has learned to never miss an opportunity when it comes to big names in any of entertainment industry; no matter where in the world you are. it’s south korea. the movie industry is quite promising. who knows? he’s attending the calvin klein annual gala as the model for spring collection; kris himself is a breakthrough actor from canada, got recognized worldwide via the first installment of quentin tarantino’s epic zombie trilogy last summer. he died, but his role and performance were so annoyingly flawless―rotten tomatoes regular reviewer wrote it online―that he swapped almost all the newcomer awards available.
“so how are you enjoying seoul so far?” the elder asks with a perfect english.
to be honest, kris only knows a little about south korea. he had thought that the country can’t be that different from japan; small built guys and even smaller girls. colorful clothes with ruffles and bows and anime characters. all the fancy, girly stuffs. he’s half-chinese himself, but he never sets his foot on his ancestor’s land at all, so his knowledge about asia is limited from his school days, movies and documentaries on TV. at least he knows that chow yun fat-ge is good looking. he met the older actor last february on academy awards’ red carpet.
he’s pleasantly surprised to find that south korea’s celebrities are way, way, way better than what he’d assumed.
the men are tall and some even have the rough looking appearance and tanned skin; some with attractive stubbles and dyed hair. the women are all slim, wearing sophisticated but not too revealing gowns. but there’s one thing bugging kris. the asian goddesses look quite similar on their nose, forehead, and face-shape area.
it doesn’t matter. kris appreciates beautiful things. fake or not.
he turns his attention back to lee sooman from a particularly tall girl with red pants―she looks really boyish with brown, bob hair and light grey shirt; kris has been waiting for her to turn around just so he can fully enjoy looking at the sight.
he nods politely, “the weather is nice, sir. i had black noodle for dinner yesterday. it was delicious, but a little bit too spicy.”
“ah, jjangmyun. you should try fresh baby octopus, kris. it’s good for your body. how old are you again, kris?” lee sooman pats kris’ back naturally, despite the fact that he’s about two heads shorter than kris.
“i’ll keep that in mind, sir,” kris nods again, adding a slight smile to his usual cold look. he wonders what made lee sooman came to him in the first place. and the age question.
“i’ll be twenty five this november.” he continues and puts his empty glass as a waiter passes them by.
lee sooman hums, and they fall in a comfortable silence as the elder whispers something to his assistant. kris steals another glance to the girl in red pants, and this time he notices that she has a pair of honey thighs. good, not too thin. he also realizes that the girl has five young boys on her sides; they’re talking animatedly, just like how youngsters are nowadays. younger, huh? hopefully she’s not the whiny type.
yes, kris is contemplating to take the girl in red pants on a date by now. screw language barrier, he’s going to prolong his stay in seoul if it’s necessary.
plus, he wants to prove his fellow actors’ theory that asian girls have these coy looks, appear shy and blushing everytime, but apparently they’re such wild foxes in bed.
“...?”
“i’m sorry, what is it, sir?” kris clears his throat. he’s being unprofessional. he needs to stop; the girl stands out enough that he’s sure he won’t miss her for the rest of the gala.
lee sooman smiles widely at him, and kris frowns. then, he takes kris’ arm and guides him to the girl in red pants’ direction. kris squares his shoulders just in case, maintaining his frown because another thing that he’s learned is to never show his emotions; especially those containing lust, love, and adoration. show your respect, yes. but never the melancholic ones.
the group of boys widen their eyes and smiling instantly, bowing ninety degrees at lee sooman. the girl in red pants finally turns around, and kris curses under his breath because that’s a boy, not a girl, and the boy speaks in a very baritone voice that sends shiver down kris’ spine.
god. fucking. dammit.
kris still wants to take him on a date.
lee sooman says his name, in korean, and kris tries hard not to stare at the boy’s face. he gives a short nod acknowledging them; su-ho, baekhyon (?), kai (japanese?), se-hun, D.O., and chanyoel (?). he hides his sweating hands on the pockets of his black slacks―a boy, jesus h. christ, kris has never been with a boy before―and the koreans are talking, talking, talking―until he hears a broken english asking him,
“excuse me, krease-h-hyung, can i t-take photo with you?”
it’s chanyoel. the prettiest boy ever exists. he’s got eyes the size of the moon, his nose is so damn cute and his lips―god. they look so soft and moist and kris has to blink in order to tear his eyes off of the pouty lips. no emotions, remember?
lee sooman pats his back before he leaves with his assistant. kris’ frown is making the boy falters.
“um...” chanyoel bites his bottom lip, “i’m-i’m sorry.”
“oh, no,” kris, feeling rather stupid, grabs chanyoel by the waist and the boy squeaks; blushing cherry tomato afterward. the boy gives su-ho his iphone and makes a peace sign as su-ho counts three, two―
the other boys are giggling―except for kai who smirks―because kris is not looking at the camera when su-ho takes the photo; he’s staring intently at chanyoel on his arm instead.
chanyoel blushes again, looking up at kris with his big eyes from behind his messy fringe; and he volunteers to take his friends’ photo with kris using his iphone. kris keeps his hands to himself when su-ho and D.O. are pressed up against his sides.
▲▼
they didn’t get to have a conversation except that it’s chanyeol not chanyoel and chanyeol could recite his line from the tarantino’s movie because a man with glasses was ushering chanyeol and his friends to their seats. but it doesn’t matter, because kris can see chanyeol clearly from his assigned seat across the catwalk.
chanyeol himself is making everything much easier already; the boy is purposefully letting his gaze lingers even as kris finally locks eyes with him. then, he covers his mouth to smile with his fingers; a funky ring embroidered with EXO (?) is flashing under the bright lights, and repeats.
kris waits until the cycle happens one more time before he decides to test his luck.
he gets up, subtly raising an eyebrow at chanyeol’s following eyes. chanyeol gasps, but that’s enough for kris to nod his head as an order to follow him―before he whispers to his manager and greets kate bosworth on his way to the men’s restroom.
he slips inside the empty restroom, the heavy bass from the runway’s show thumping sexily. kris is not going to hope too much that chanyeol wants to fuck on their very first encounter, but what does he know?
chanyeol is panting when he arrives, probably running to find kris. kris snorts because he’s hiding behind the door, and chanyeol yelps as he does the classic ‘boo!’
“omo! you scared me!” chanyeol puts a hand with the ring on his chest, blabbering in korean, and kris assumes from the tone he’s using, the boy is shocked.
kris proceeds to claim his prize; still testing his luck though, a kiss and phone number are considered a victory.
chanyeol’s long eyelashes are fluttering when kris slides his palms to the boy’s wide hips and pressing their chests flush; the black suit he’s wearing creating a divine contrast against chanyeol’s light grey shirt.
chanyeol smells good; like vanilla and aquamarine whatisit. not too feminine, but not exactly masculine either.
“do you have a girlfriend?” kris asks slowly to the hollow of chanyeol’s neck, pushing until the boy’s back hits the wall. “hmmm?”
chanyeol is fucking moaning when he answers, “n-no girlfriend.” his trembling hands make their way to kris’ hair; tugging.
a kiss, it is.
kris kisses chanyeol’s lips gently, although it’s quite clear that chanyeol is okay if he does it otherwise. but kris wants to take his time. chanyeol is too pretty to be true.
“ah...” chanyeol’s body is tensing, and kris tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
the boy is inexperienced, and kris really, really, shouldn’t be getting hard by the tiny, mewling noises chanyeol is producing―but fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuck because chanyeol is getting hard too.
“hey, hey,” kris frames the boy’s pretty face, cutting off their kiss, “are you sure? don’t need me to take you to a date first?”
chanyeol sighs, his pupils are dilating because a) either he doesn’t understand a thing kris says or b) he’s horny―kris is fine with both options. he’s an adult.
“hyung...” there’s the korean word again, and did chanyeol just whine?
“how old are you?” kris slicks back chanyeol’s fringe, and kisses his temple.
“i’m seventeen years old.” kris curses his fate because here he is, about to fuck a korean jailbait. “waeyo, hyung?”
“huh? waeyo? why? well, i don’t care, actually. but you. are you sure?” kris stares straight into chanyeol’s eyes, his morality is still functioning. half of it, because if chanyeol is sure then he’s―
“okay, hyung. you can fuck me.”
―wow. asian boy is this filthy?
kris grabs a bottle of hand lotion from the marble sink; he might need to congratulate the event organizer for providing hand lotions from every cosmetic company in the men’s restr―shit. focus.
chanyeol picks the furthest cubicle, undoing the button of his freaking red pants and his white briefs and in no time at all he’s squeezing his half hard, totally hairless cock.
kris thanks god for this prize.
he manhandles chanyeol to face the wall, rubbing his clothed crotch to the plump globes, liking how they bounce perfectly as he squirts a good amount of almond-scented hand lotion to his left fingers. he’s tempted to ask chanyeol if he’s a virgin but he’ll find out sooner or later by the way chanyeol screams his name anyway.
“ahhh...” nevermind, the boy is a virgin. chanyeol moans like he’s doing his most favorite sin while angels and gods are watching his every moves. is he a masochist―because kris isn’t being gentle shoving two lubed fingers inside his tighttightight hole.
“ah, hyung, it feels w-weird...” chanyeol is speaking korean, arching his waist backward to get kris’ long fingers deeper. definitely a masochist; kris’ been told by his sex partners that those amazing fingers are the cause that they couldn’t hold back their orgasms. hm, let’s see if chanyeol can survive.
“ah!” chanyeol mewls like a kitten after kris’ fingers brush a solid bundle inside. kris’ cock twitch at the sound, and he probes his fingers deeper and chanyeol is sobbing.
“t-there―again, hyung...” so kris does, and chanyeol throws his head back, mouth opens, eyes closed, and good lord kris is the one creating this beautiful sex face?
“shit,” kris chuckles as he chews on chanyeol’s inner jawline; his hands idly unbuckling his belt and black slacks and shoving his black briefs down to his mid-thighs. chanyeol grinds his ass back to kris’ fully erect cock, and kris wonders if his fellow actor friends know the existence of feisty, underage, korean boy too.
chanyeol is stroking his own cock when kris dumps a good amount of hand lotion to his cock, slicking it so chanyeol won’t have a hard time welcoming him. he teases his length in between chanyeol’s pale ass cheeks, and chanyeol moans helplessly, his hand motion is faltering.
kris grips the boy’s hips to turn him around to face him, and chanyeol’s sweaty face is just as beautiful up close. their teeth clank as kris forces his mouth to chanyeol’s, and chanyeol is responding obediently by throwing his arms around kris’ shoulders. kris presses chanyeol to the wall, knocking the boy’s head but chanyeol only moans-gasps-hyung!-cries as kris strokes their purpling cocks with one hand while the other is gripping the base of his neck; easily controlling him.
“come on!” chanyeol suddenly bites the corner of kris’ left mouth, bruising it, but he doesn’t seem to care as he desperately hooking his thin right ankle to the back of kris’ knees.
kris steadies his stance, squeezing chanyeol’s hips so hard that there will be finger printed bluish marks in order to make chanyeol stop squirming. chanyeol sniffs, and kris rewards him with a slow and sweet kiss as he bends his knees and slides chanyeol’s body up against the wall. chanyeol finally hooks his long legs around kris’ waist; and kris runs his hands to chanyeol’s ass, kneading the meaty globes and inserting his three still slick fingers again.
chanyeol sighs into their kiss, murmuring korean words so religiously with a hint of kris’ name here and there―and then his walls are clenching tightly after kris’ fingers hit the same solid bundle―and chanyeol pleads, complete with a set of coy, big, watering eyes,
“get in me,” he pauses, “kris.”
kris curses out loud then, laughing because really, give chanyeol a couple of years and he’s going to be a little slut. he chokes at the heavenly tightness surrounding his cock.
oh he loves south korea.
he pushespushespushes until chanyeol screams, then he stops because he doesn’t think he can push in any deeper. his cock throbs as chanyeol’s walls clenching-unclenching; their joined flesh are feeling feverishly hothothot.
kris presses his palms against the cold tiles, breathing in chanyeol’s sweat and rotating his hips hesitantly. chanyeol moans at that; clenching, clawing at kris’ shoulders. kris pulls his cock out an inch, pushes in, and chanyeol’s moan is so, so, so fucking low kris has to bite on the boy’s shirt or else he’ll cum embarrassingly fast.
“hyung,” chanyeol whispers, “hyung.”
“kris,” kris strokes chanyeol’s hips as he rocks in another inch, maintaining eye contact. chanyeol is biting his bottom lip but his eyes are open wide. “hm?”
“kris...” chanyeol grimaces as kris rocks in another inch so now that he’s fully inside. “kris,” a drop of tear escapes, “kris...” and kris smirks smugly before he answers by pulling out then pushing back in without any warning.
chanyeol goes wild.
he works his ass, meeting kris’ thrusts halfway, doubling the pleasure for the both of them. he’s chanting kris’ name like a prayer, his manicured fingers are creating red marks too on kris’ neck, and his hard cock is slapping against his stomach; leaking pre-cum, twitching cutely.
kris is not sure how long have they been missing, and they still need to mingle after the runway show, so he picks up his pace; grabbing the back of chanyeol’s sweaty knees and drives in fasterharderfasterharderhardermore!―and chanyeol himself is losing it; he’s screaming kris’ name at the top of his lungs now, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing, his neck looking so fragile that kris is afraid it might break by his force. chanyeol’s whole body suddenly spasms after kris changes his angle, and then chanyeol is spurting ropes after ropes of come to kris’ black suit and to his grey shirt; his ass mercilessly trapping kris’ cock even after he goes pliant and falls onto kris’ embrace.
kris staggers to sit at the toilet lid, deciding not to brutally use chanyeol’s spent body but to gently fuck him. chanyeol smiles sleepily at him, his eyelids dropping, and he gasps at the feeling of kris’ cock filling him in a new position. he’s such a fast learner though; because when kris thrusts up he clenches his ass and thrusts back slowly, his spread thighs are trembling.
kris continues fucking chanyeol with an unhurried rhythm, tangling his tongue with the boy’s and occasionally landing a smack on chanyeol’s sweaty, meaty ass cheeks. chanyeol sighs when he does that, and before long, his cock is hard again.
“fuck,” kris chuckles, and chanyeol flushes prettily as if he’s embarrassed with his nature call. kris doesn’t buy it though; he knows chanyeol wants a second round.
“okay,” he pulls out, earning a protest from chanyeol who hits his chest. kris just chuckles again, pushing chanyeol to bend over the toilet before he slams back in and starts fucking chanyeol for real.
he says in between chanyeol’s broken moans, making sure that chanyeol hears him right, “you can’t come, chanyeol. we are going to sit back and act like nothing happened. you. are. not. going. to look at me. i will be waiting for you in a white audi when this gala is over. understood?”
“y-yes,” chanyeol sobs.
“good boy,” kris folds chanyeol’s body in a half, thrusting in faster because he’s close―so close. “i will only wait for five minutes. and then we will see if you can finally come.”
chanyeol nods, too gone to form a reply. kris grunts, pressing his forehead against chanyeol’s sweaty, smooth back; and the thundering claps telling him that the runway show is over and they need to get back there now so kris lets it go―his warm cum flooding chanyeol’s hole and chanyeol sighs dreamily at the foreign sensation.
kris helps chanyeol getting rid of the cum stain from his light grey shirt, but he says no when chanyeol tries to clean his ass.
“it’s a reminder who just fucked you. you’ll feel my cum squelching inside when you sit down later, chanyeol, my prettiest boy, and it will leak down your thighs when you’re walking.” he says matter-of-factly as he buttons up chanyeol’s red pants, before stroking the boy’s hips.
“tame your little brother,” he uses his thumb to press at chanyeol’s bulge. chanyeol whines and swats his hand. he’s so cute. “see you later.” kris licks chanyeol’s lips for the last time before he walks out of the toilet cubicle, washes his hands, fixes his hair and dabs wet tissues to his black suit.
he only leaves after chanyeol staggers out of the toilet cubicle, a satisfied smile decorating his pretty face.
slut.
t h e e n d or (?)
author notes: supposed to be a pure PWP. totally inspired by chanyeol in that calvin klein's gala outfit. damn, are you a boy or a gull.
sorry i cropped it. credit to the owners.
right this moment, kris wufan is sipping on his champagne, exchanging greeting with lee sooman; the founder-slash-owner of SMentertainment, one of the most successful idol agencies in south korea, and probably the world, because kris remembers briefly reading about ‘SM town concert in LA’ as the headline of yahoo news a couple of days ago.
the elder had approached him first, out of the blue, and kris has learned to never miss an opportunity when it comes to big names in any of entertainment industry; no matter where in the world you are. it’s south korea. the movie industry is quite promising. who knows? he’s attending the calvin klein annual gala as the model for spring collection; kris himself is a breakthrough actor from canada, got recognized worldwide via the first installment of quentin tarantino’s epic zombie trilogy last summer. he died, but his role and performance were so annoyingly flawless―rotten tomatoes regular reviewer wrote it online―that he swapped almost all the newcomer awards available.
“so how are you enjoying seoul so far?” the elder asks with a perfect english.
to be honest, kris only knows a little about south korea. he had thought that the country can’t be that different from japan; small built guys and even smaller girls. colorful clothes with ruffles and bows and anime characters. all the fancy, girly stuffs. he’s half-chinese himself, but he never sets his foot on his ancestor’s land at all, so his knowledge about asia is limited from his school days, movies and documentaries on TV. at least he knows that chow yun fat-ge is good looking. he met the older actor last february on academy awards’ red carpet.
he’s pleasantly surprised to find that south korea’s celebrities are way, way, way better than what he’d assumed.
the men are tall and some even have the rough looking appearance and tanned skin; some with attractive stubbles and dyed hair. the women are all slim, wearing sophisticated but not too revealing gowns. but there’s one thing bugging kris. the asian goddesses look quite similar on their nose, forehead, and face-shape area.
it doesn’t matter. kris appreciates beautiful things. fake or not.
he turns his attention back to lee sooman from a particularly tall girl with red pants―she looks really boyish with brown, bob hair and light grey shirt; kris has been waiting for her to turn around just so he can fully enjoy looking at the sight.
he nods politely, “the weather is nice, sir. i had black noodle for dinner yesterday. it was delicious, but a little bit too spicy.”
“ah, jjangmyun. you should try fresh baby octopus, kris. it’s good for your body. how old are you again, kris?” lee sooman pats kris’ back naturally, despite the fact that he’s about two heads shorter than kris.
“i’ll keep that in mind, sir,” kris nods again, adding a slight smile to his usual cold look. he wonders what made lee sooman came to him in the first place. and the age question.
“i’ll be twenty five this november.” he continues and puts his empty glass as a waiter passes them by.
lee sooman hums, and they fall in a comfortable silence as the elder whispers something to his assistant. kris steals another glance to the girl in red pants, and this time he notices that she has a pair of honey thighs. good, not too thin. he also realizes that the girl has five young boys on her sides; they’re talking animatedly, just like how youngsters are nowadays. younger, huh? hopefully she’s not the whiny type.
yes, kris is contemplating to take the girl in red pants on a date by now. screw language barrier, he’s going to prolong his stay in seoul if it’s necessary.
plus, he wants to prove his fellow actors’ theory that asian girls have these coy looks, appear shy and blushing everytime, but apparently they’re such wild foxes in bed.
“...?”
“i’m sorry, what is it, sir?” kris clears his throat. he’s being unprofessional. he needs to stop; the girl stands out enough that he’s sure he won’t miss her for the rest of the gala.
lee sooman smiles widely at him, and kris frowns. then, he takes kris’ arm and guides him to the girl in red pants’ direction. kris squares his shoulders just in case, maintaining his frown because another thing that he’s learned is to never show his emotions; especially those containing lust, love, and adoration. show your respect, yes. but never the melancholic ones.
the group of boys widen their eyes and smiling instantly, bowing ninety degrees at lee sooman. the girl in red pants finally turns around, and kris curses under his breath because that’s a boy, not a girl, and the boy speaks in a very baritone voice that sends shiver down kris’ spine.
god. fucking. dammit.
kris still wants to take him on a date.
lee sooman says his name, in korean, and kris tries hard not to stare at the boy’s face. he gives a short nod acknowledging them; su-ho, baekhyon (?), kai (japanese?), se-hun, D.O., and chanyoel (?). he hides his sweating hands on the pockets of his black slacks―a boy, jesus h. christ, kris has never been with a boy before―and the koreans are talking, talking, talking―until he hears a broken english asking him,
“excuse me, krease-h-hyung, can i t-take photo with you?”
it’s chanyoel. the prettiest boy ever exists. he’s got eyes the size of the moon, his nose is so damn cute and his lips―god. they look so soft and moist and kris has to blink in order to tear his eyes off of the pouty lips. no emotions, remember?
lee sooman pats his back before he leaves with his assistant. kris’ frown is making the boy falters.
“um...” chanyoel bites his bottom lip, “i’m-i’m sorry.”
“oh, no,” kris, feeling rather stupid, grabs chanyoel by the waist and the boy squeaks; blushing cherry tomato afterward. the boy gives su-ho his iphone and makes a peace sign as su-ho counts three, two―
the other boys are giggling―except for kai who smirks―because kris is not looking at the camera when su-ho takes the photo; he’s staring intently at chanyoel on his arm instead.
chanyoel blushes again, looking up at kris with his big eyes from behind his messy fringe; and he volunteers to take his friends’ photo with kris using his iphone. kris keeps his hands to himself when su-ho and D.O. are pressed up against his sides.
▲▼
they didn’t get to have a conversation except that it’s chanyeol not chanyoel and chanyeol could recite his line from the tarantino’s movie because a man with glasses was ushering chanyeol and his friends to their seats. but it doesn’t matter, because kris can see chanyeol clearly from his assigned seat across the catwalk.
chanyeol himself is making everything much easier already; the boy is purposefully letting his gaze lingers even as kris finally locks eyes with him. then, he covers his mouth to smile with his fingers; a funky ring embroidered with EXO (?) is flashing under the bright lights, and repeats.
kris waits until the cycle happens one more time before he decides to test his luck.
he gets up, subtly raising an eyebrow at chanyeol’s following eyes. chanyeol gasps, but that’s enough for kris to nod his head as an order to follow him―before he whispers to his manager and greets kate bosworth on his way to the men’s restroom.
he slips inside the empty restroom, the heavy bass from the runway’s show thumping sexily. kris is not going to hope too much that chanyeol wants to fuck on their very first encounter, but what does he know?
chanyeol is panting when he arrives, probably running to find kris. kris snorts because he’s hiding behind the door, and chanyeol yelps as he does the classic ‘boo!’
“omo! you scared me!” chanyeol puts a hand with the ring on his chest, blabbering in korean, and kris assumes from the tone he’s using, the boy is shocked.
kris proceeds to claim his prize; still testing his luck though, a kiss and phone number are considered a victory.
chanyeol’s long eyelashes are fluttering when kris slides his palms to the boy’s wide hips and pressing their chests flush; the black suit he’s wearing creating a divine contrast against chanyeol’s light grey shirt.
chanyeol smells good; like vanilla and aquamarine whatisit. not too feminine, but not exactly masculine either.
“do you have a girlfriend?” kris asks slowly to the hollow of chanyeol’s neck, pushing until the boy’s back hits the wall. “hmmm?”
chanyeol is fucking moaning when he answers, “n-no girlfriend.” his trembling hands make their way to kris’ hair; tugging.
a kiss, it is.
kris kisses chanyeol’s lips gently, although it’s quite clear that chanyeol is okay if he does it otherwise. but kris wants to take his time. chanyeol is too pretty to be true.
“ah...” chanyeol’s body is tensing, and kris tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
the boy is inexperienced, and kris really, really, shouldn’t be getting hard by the tiny, mewling noises chanyeol is producing―but fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuck because chanyeol is getting hard too.
“hey, hey,” kris frames the boy’s pretty face, cutting off their kiss, “are you sure? don’t need me to take you to a date first?”
chanyeol sighs, his pupils are dilating because a) either he doesn’t understand a thing kris says or b) he’s horny―kris is fine with both options. he’s an adult.
“hyung...” there’s the korean word again, and did chanyeol just whine?
“how old are you?” kris slicks back chanyeol’s fringe, and kisses his temple.
“i’m seventeen years old.” kris curses his fate because here he is, about to fuck a korean jailbait. “waeyo, hyung?”
“huh? waeyo? why? well, i don’t care, actually. but you. are you sure?” kris stares straight into chanyeol’s eyes, his morality is still functioning. half of it, because if chanyeol is sure then he’s―
“okay, hyung. you can fuck me.”
―wow. asian boy is this filthy?
kris grabs a bottle of hand lotion from the marble sink; he might need to congratulate the event organizer for providing hand lotions from every cosmetic company in the men’s restr―shit. focus.
chanyeol picks the furthest cubicle, undoing the button of his freaking red pants and his white briefs and in no time at all he’s squeezing his half hard, totally hairless cock.
kris thanks god for this prize.
he manhandles chanyeol to face the wall, rubbing his clothed crotch to the plump globes, liking how they bounce perfectly as he squirts a good amount of almond-scented hand lotion to his left fingers. he’s tempted to ask chanyeol if he’s a virgin but he’ll find out sooner or later by the way chanyeol screams his name anyway.
“ahhh...” nevermind, the boy is a virgin. chanyeol moans like he’s doing his most favorite sin while angels and gods are watching his every moves. is he a masochist―because kris isn’t being gentle shoving two lubed fingers inside his tighttightight hole.
“ah, hyung, it feels w-weird...” chanyeol is speaking korean, arching his waist backward to get kris’ long fingers deeper. definitely a masochist; kris’ been told by his sex partners that those amazing fingers are the cause that they couldn’t hold back their orgasms. hm, let’s see if chanyeol can survive.
“ah!” chanyeol mewls like a kitten after kris’ fingers brush a solid bundle inside. kris’ cock twitch at the sound, and he probes his fingers deeper and chanyeol is sobbing.
“t-there―again, hyung...” so kris does, and chanyeol throws his head back, mouth opens, eyes closed, and good lord kris is the one creating this beautiful sex face?
“shit,” kris chuckles as he chews on chanyeol’s inner jawline; his hands idly unbuckling his belt and black slacks and shoving his black briefs down to his mid-thighs. chanyeol grinds his ass back to kris’ fully erect cock, and kris wonders if his fellow actor friends know the existence of feisty, underage, korean boy too.
chanyeol is stroking his own cock when kris dumps a good amount of hand lotion to his cock, slicking it so chanyeol won’t have a hard time welcoming him. he teases his length in between chanyeol’s pale ass cheeks, and chanyeol moans helplessly, his hand motion is faltering.
kris grips the boy’s hips to turn him around to face him, and chanyeol’s sweaty face is just as beautiful up close. their teeth clank as kris forces his mouth to chanyeol’s, and chanyeol is responding obediently by throwing his arms around kris’ shoulders. kris presses chanyeol to the wall, knocking the boy’s head but chanyeol only moans-gasps-hyung!-cries as kris strokes their purpling cocks with one hand while the other is gripping the base of his neck; easily controlling him.
“come on!” chanyeol suddenly bites the corner of kris’ left mouth, bruising it, but he doesn’t seem to care as he desperately hooking his thin right ankle to the back of kris’ knees.
kris steadies his stance, squeezing chanyeol’s hips so hard that there will be finger printed bluish marks in order to make chanyeol stop squirming. chanyeol sniffs, and kris rewards him with a slow and sweet kiss as he bends his knees and slides chanyeol’s body up against the wall. chanyeol finally hooks his long legs around kris’ waist; and kris runs his hands to chanyeol’s ass, kneading the meaty globes and inserting his three still slick fingers again.
chanyeol sighs into their kiss, murmuring korean words so religiously with a hint of kris’ name here and there―and then his walls are clenching tightly after kris’ fingers hit the same solid bundle―and chanyeol pleads, complete with a set of coy, big, watering eyes,
“get in me,” he pauses, “kris.”
kris curses out loud then, laughing because really, give chanyeol a couple of years and he’s going to be a little slut. he chokes at the heavenly tightness surrounding his cock.
oh he loves south korea.
he pushespushespushes until chanyeol screams, then he stops because he doesn’t think he can push in any deeper. his cock throbs as chanyeol’s walls clenching-unclenching; their joined flesh are feeling feverishly hothothot.
kris presses his palms against the cold tiles, breathing in chanyeol’s sweat and rotating his hips hesitantly. chanyeol moans at that; clenching, clawing at kris’ shoulders. kris pulls his cock out an inch, pushes in, and chanyeol’s moan is so, so, so fucking low kris has to bite on the boy’s shirt or else he’ll cum embarrassingly fast.
“hyung,” chanyeol whispers, “hyung.”
“kris,” kris strokes chanyeol’s hips as he rocks in another inch, maintaining eye contact. chanyeol is biting his bottom lip but his eyes are open wide. “hm?”
“kris...” chanyeol grimaces as kris rocks in another inch so now that he’s fully inside. “kris,” a drop of tear escapes, “kris...” and kris smirks smugly before he answers by pulling out then pushing back in without any warning.
chanyeol goes wild.
he works his ass, meeting kris’ thrusts halfway, doubling the pleasure for the both of them. he’s chanting kris’ name like a prayer, his manicured fingers are creating red marks too on kris’ neck, and his hard cock is slapping against his stomach; leaking pre-cum, twitching cutely.
kris is not sure how long have they been missing, and they still need to mingle after the runway show, so he picks up his pace; grabbing the back of chanyeol’s sweaty knees and drives in fasterharderfasterharderhardermore!―and chanyeol himself is losing it; he’s screaming kris’ name at the top of his lungs now, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing, his neck looking so fragile that kris is afraid it might break by his force. chanyeol’s whole body suddenly spasms after kris changes his angle, and then chanyeol is spurting ropes after ropes of come to kris’ black suit and to his grey shirt; his ass mercilessly trapping kris’ cock even after he goes pliant and falls onto kris’ embrace.
kris staggers to sit at the toilet lid, deciding not to brutally use chanyeol’s spent body but to gently fuck him. chanyeol smiles sleepily at him, his eyelids dropping, and he gasps at the feeling of kris’ cock filling him in a new position. he’s such a fast learner though; because when kris thrusts up he clenches his ass and thrusts back slowly, his spread thighs are trembling.
kris continues fucking chanyeol with an unhurried rhythm, tangling his tongue with the boy’s and occasionally landing a smack on chanyeol’s sweaty, meaty ass cheeks. chanyeol sighs when he does that, and before long, his cock is hard again.
“fuck,” kris chuckles, and chanyeol flushes prettily as if he’s embarrassed with his nature call. kris doesn’t buy it though; he knows chanyeol wants a second round.
“okay,” he pulls out, earning a protest from chanyeol who hits his chest. kris just chuckles again, pushing chanyeol to bend over the toilet before he slams back in and starts fucking chanyeol for real.
he says in between chanyeol’s broken moans, making sure that chanyeol hears him right, “you can’t come, chanyeol. we are going to sit back and act like nothing happened. you. are. not. going. to look at me. i will be waiting for you in a white audi when this gala is over. understood?”
“y-yes,” chanyeol sobs.
“good boy,” kris folds chanyeol’s body in a half, thrusting in faster because he’s close―so close. “i will only wait for five minutes. and then we will see if you can finally come.”
chanyeol nods, too gone to form a reply. kris grunts, pressing his forehead against chanyeol’s sweaty, smooth back; and the thundering claps telling him that the runway show is over and they need to get back there now so kris lets it go―his warm cum flooding chanyeol’s hole and chanyeol sighs dreamily at the foreign sensation.
kris helps chanyeol getting rid of the cum stain from his light grey shirt, but he says no when chanyeol tries to clean his ass.
“it’s a reminder who just fucked you. you’ll feel my cum squelching inside when you sit down later, chanyeol, my prettiest boy, and it will leak down your thighs when you’re walking.” he says matter-of-factly as he buttons up chanyeol’s red pants, before stroking the boy’s hips.
“tame your little brother,” he uses his thumb to press at chanyeol’s bulge. chanyeol whines and swats his hand. he’s so cute. “see you later.” kris licks chanyeol’s lips for the last time before he walks out of the toilet cubicle, washes his hands, fixes his hair and dabs wet tissues to his black suit.
he only leaves after chanyeol staggers out of the toilet cubicle, a satisfied smile decorating his pretty face.
slut.
t h e e n d or (?)