use your hands and my spare time.
pairing: jongdae/chanyeol, implied jongdae/chanyeol/kyungsoo, implied jongdae/chanyeol/baekhyun, implied baekhyun/kyungsoo, implied chinguline!ot4
rating: r
wordcount: 1.7k
warnings: graphic sexual content, manipulative little fuckers.
summary: chanyeol likes the way jongdae touches him. just another episode of showtime.
notes: for this gifset, and coincidentally almost matching this prompt on the exopromptmeme. also i love chinguline so i'm not surprisd they snuck into this istg i'm going to write them sometime sooner or later. the first half of the fic contains lines directly from showtime. minus a few here and there. title from the 1975 - sex.
“I didn’t take it,” is the first thing Chanyeol says, patting at his pockets with one hand, and balancing his hotdog with the other.
Jongdae huffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There’s no way he’s misplaced his wallet. Someone must have taken it.
“We have an unexpected situation,” declares Sehun, and the handheld camera in his palm swivels to face Jongdae, who darts off in the opposite direction to ask the members standing by the counter if they’ve seen his wallet.
“Christ, is this really happening,” mutters Jongdae, low enough that the microphone pinned to his jacket can’t pick up, and he wanders back over to the table, making an uneasy sound in reply to Baekhyun’s question of whether he really lost his wallet.
“Keep looking,” says Baekhyun, smoothing his hands down his jacket.
Jongin takes a bite from his bun and points. “Why are you searching yourselves?”
Baekhyun and Chanyeol glance at each other, and shrug.
Jongdae notes the suspicious activity down in his mind, and files the information away for later. He’s about to go off to search outside when Chanyeol gets up and holds out his own wallet. “Sorry, here, take my wallet instead.”
Blinking, Jongdae just stares at him, wondering what he’s trying to do, but the moment is interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the members, sans a few, and the constant question of ‘did you really lose your wallet’ is starting to frustrate him, and Jongdae frowns. “Hurry up and give it back.”
“What kind of situation is this?” jokes Baekhyun, grinning at the camera crew. Jongdae huffs again, and glances at the other members. He knows one of them has his wallet. They have to.
“I’ll be honest,” pipes up Lu Han suddenly, looking contrite, “it’s with me.”
“You’re just joking,” says Jongdae, smiling even though he’s panicking further on the inside. Besides, there’s no way he’s believing any of these jerks now, with the way they’re snickering and smirking at his poor, undeserved fate.
Minseok nudges Lu Han, and laughs.
Jongdae is getting edgy now, and he bounces on the heels of his shoes, whining, “Hurry up and give it back, come on.” He can’t just stand there and do nothing. And so, he goes for the most suspicious-looking one, Chanyeol, who’s just relaxing in his seat while the others are all standing. It’s got to be him. Who else would do this to Jongdae, anyway?
“How can you do this to your members,” utters Chanyeol, eyes wide, as Jongdae reaches over to stick his hands into Chanyeol’s jacket pockets, and rummages thoroughly. It’s got to be here, he thinks to himself, as he pulls his hands out of Chanyeol’s jacket and presses his palms against his front, letting his hands slide down.
In barely a second, Chanyeol’s expression slips from appalled to delighted, and Jongdae doesn’t catch it at first, lets the words come out of his mouth, “Why are you laughing like this; hurry up and give it back,” but then he sees the look on Chanyeol’s face, and Jongdae wants to punch that smug face.
“I’m going home,” wails Jongdae in outrage, when he discovers that it was Minseok who took it in the end. “So annoying!” The members have a good laugh at his expense, but Jongdae just shakes his head and whines more, stamping off.
On the way back to their cars, Chanyeol catches him as he’s walking behind the rest of the group, and bends to whisper into his ear, “You should misplace your wallet more often,” before speeding off to pester Baekhyun and Sehun, leaving Jongdae gaping at him, mouth opening and closing several times before he finds his senses again.
Throughout the car-ride and the trip to the beach, Jongdae’s traitorous mind can’t help but think of Chanyeol’s low voice in his ear, and the way he smiled that wicked grin with Jongdae’s hands on him, and he’s suitably distracted even as they reach their lodgings for the night.
It’s near midnight when they’re almost finished filming for the day, and Jongdae nearly jumps a foot in the air when Chanyeol slips into the bathroom unannounced, locking the door securely behind him. “You ass,” whispers Jongdae at their reflections in the mirror, as Chanyeol snickers at him, tossing his towel next to where Jongdae is standing by the sink. “Don’t say stuff like that on television.”
“It’s not like anyone heard it,” says Chanyeol, his face the very picture of innocence. “Besides, I meant it.”
“You’re such an idiot,” says Jongdae, but it’s with fond tones, and he turns around to face Chanyeol, who’s closed the distance between them several more inches. “So easy.”
“I’m not easy,” says Chanyeol indignantly. Jongdae just laughs softly, reaching up to slide his hand across the nape of Chanyeol’s neck, tugging him down. One of the thin shoulder straps of Chanyeol’s sleeveless shirt slips a little, and Jongdae angles his head to close his teeth over the curve of Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly, revelling in the sharp hiss that Chanyeol exhales above him.
Jongdae hums against skin. “Yes, you are.”
“Just a little,” admits Chanyeol, resting his hands on Jongdae’s hips, and his palms radiate warmth. “What can I say? I like it when you get handsy.”
“Not much time for that now,” murmurs Jongdae, running his hands down Chanyeol’s chest, fingers skimming down to dip under Chanyeol’s shirt, teasing over soft skin, and Chanyeol’s breath hitches several times, as Jongdae drags his fingernails upwards. “The others are going to think that we’re up to something.”
Chanyeol scoffs, and makes a soft noise in the back of his throat when Jongdae flicks his thumb over Chanyeol’s nipple lightly. “I’m pretty sure at least three of them know exactly what we’re doing.”
“Only three?” Jongdae hums again, and ghosts his palms back down Chanyeol’s body again. Chanyeol bites back a moan and rocks back on his heels, obviously impatient, and Jongdae chuckles, sliding his hand past the waistband of Chanyeol’s grey sweatpants, palming Chanyeol’s cock, and Chanyeol’s hips stutter up into his grasp almost immediately. “Woah there, get a grip, kid.”
“You’re only two months older than me, ah,” says Chanyeol, and his head lolls back when Jongdae thumbs over the head of his cock, rubbing over that sensitive spot just on the underside, and Chanyeol breathes out, “besides, I haven’t jerked off all week in hopes that you’d do the job for me.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Again, idiot,” he states, his free hand neatly plucking out the tiny bottle of lube that Chanyeol’s stashed in his pocket beforehand. “Three minutes.”
“You suck,” says Chanyeol half-heartedly, and he leans down to suck a kiss into Jongdae’s neck as Jongdae slicks up his fingers and tosses the near-empty bottle into the trashcan under the counter. “Come on.”
Chanyeol’s cock is hot and heavy in Jongdae’s hand, and Jongdae takes his time beginning, alternating between long, full downstrokes and shorter, lighter upstrokes, grip snug but not too tight. Chanyeol is already biting down on his lower lip, one hand holding onto the sink behind him for balance, and with every snap of Jongdae’s wrist, his hips rock forward without his control.
“Don’t let them hear us,” breathes Jongdae into Chanyeol’s shoulder, and he presses a kiss to his skin as he speeds up his thrusts just the slightest bit, and he can tell by the flush on Chanyeol’s neck that he’s close, and Chanyeol ends up biting down on the back of his hand to muffle the cry that comes with his release, arching into Jongdae’s grip, and Jongdae gives him a last few strokes as he rides it out, whispering little words that don’t quite make it to Chanyeol’s ears.
“Mm,” says Chanyeol, sated and very much satisfied, as he always is when Jongdae jerks him off, and he grabs his forgotten towel to clean up quickly as Jongdae runs the tap. “You’re great.”
“I know I am.” Jongdae watches Chanyeol straighten himself out. “Wish I could say the same for you.”
“You’re so mean to me,” bemoans Chanyeol, but he’s slinging his arms around Jongdae anyway, and Jongdae has to tiptoe to meet Chanyeol’s lips in a quiet kiss, but it’s sweet and easy, with the way Chanyeol presses their tongues together and nips faintly at his lower lip, leaning down to make up for his height and angling his face to slot their mouths together easier. “Want me to return the favour?” he murmurs, and his voice is deep and sleepy, and it sends a warm shiver down Jongdae’s spine.
“Tomorrow,” whispers Jongdae, and he kisses Chanyeol again. “Come on. We need to close the recording soon.”
“Some Radiohead before that, though?” asks Chanyeol hopefully, following Jongdae through the door. “Can’t have a sleepover without some music.”
“It’s not a sleepover,” says Kyungsoo, who’s lying on the couch nearby, “and at least have the decency to hold off while other people suffer alone, won’t you.”
“You’re just jealous they didn’t invite you,” says Baekhyun mildly, who’s lying on a thin mattress on the floor, tapping away on his phone. “By the way, why wasn’t I called to your little party?”
“The bathroom’s only big enough for two people,” says Jongdae solemly, flopping down beside Baekhyun, and he glances up at the camera. “Please tell me that’s been turned off.”
“Nope,” says Baekhyun cheerily, “but I turned the microphone off, so it’s fine. They’ll probably think we’re talking about showering together again.”
A sigh comes from the now blanket-covered lump on the couch. “Which reminds me; I’ve told you to stop walking in on me while I’m in the bathroom, Baekhyun.”
“Then why do you leave the door unlocked?” says Chanyeol, tuning the guitar in his lap, and he plays the first few chords of the intro to Creep. “Besides, I don’t see you kicking him out, either.”
“Goodnight,” says Kyungsoo immediately, and he rolls over, ignoring them.
Jongdae sighs into his pillow. “Why don’t you ever walk in on me showering?”
“You don’t deserve my presence,” says Baekhyun, still glued to his phone. “Oh, turn the microphone back on, will you, Sehun? Good boy.”
rating: r
wordcount: 1.7k
warnings: graphic sexual content, manipulative little fuckers.
summary: chanyeol likes the way jongdae touches him. just another episode of showtime.
notes: for this gifset, and coincidentally almost matching this prompt on the exopromptmeme. also i love chinguline so i'm not surprisd they snuck into this istg i'm going to write them sometime sooner or later. the first half of the fic contains lines directly from showtime. minus a few here and there. title from the 1975 - sex.
“I didn’t take it,” is the first thing Chanyeol says, patting at his pockets with one hand, and balancing his hotdog with the other.
Jongdae huffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There’s no way he’s misplaced his wallet. Someone must have taken it.
“We have an unexpected situation,” declares Sehun, and the handheld camera in his palm swivels to face Jongdae, who darts off in the opposite direction to ask the members standing by the counter if they’ve seen his wallet.
“Christ, is this really happening,” mutters Jongdae, low enough that the microphone pinned to his jacket can’t pick up, and he wanders back over to the table, making an uneasy sound in reply to Baekhyun’s question of whether he really lost his wallet.
“Keep looking,” says Baekhyun, smoothing his hands down his jacket.
Jongin takes a bite from his bun and points. “Why are you searching yourselves?”
Baekhyun and Chanyeol glance at each other, and shrug.
Jongdae notes the suspicious activity down in his mind, and files the information away for later. He’s about to go off to search outside when Chanyeol gets up and holds out his own wallet. “Sorry, here, take my wallet instead.”
Blinking, Jongdae just stares at him, wondering what he’s trying to do, but the moment is interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the members, sans a few, and the constant question of ‘did you really lose your wallet’ is starting to frustrate him, and Jongdae frowns. “Hurry up and give it back.”
“What kind of situation is this?” jokes Baekhyun, grinning at the camera crew. Jongdae huffs again, and glances at the other members. He knows one of them has his wallet. They have to.
“I’ll be honest,” pipes up Lu Han suddenly, looking contrite, “it’s with me.”
“You’re just joking,” says Jongdae, smiling even though he’s panicking further on the inside. Besides, there’s no way he’s believing any of these jerks now, with the way they’re snickering and smirking at his poor, undeserved fate.
Minseok nudges Lu Han, and laughs.
Jongdae is getting edgy now, and he bounces on the heels of his shoes, whining, “Hurry up and give it back, come on.” He can’t just stand there and do nothing. And so, he goes for the most suspicious-looking one, Chanyeol, who’s just relaxing in his seat while the others are all standing. It’s got to be him. Who else would do this to Jongdae, anyway?
“How can you do this to your members,” utters Chanyeol, eyes wide, as Jongdae reaches over to stick his hands into Chanyeol’s jacket pockets, and rummages thoroughly. It’s got to be here, he thinks to himself, as he pulls his hands out of Chanyeol’s jacket and presses his palms against his front, letting his hands slide down.
In barely a second, Chanyeol’s expression slips from appalled to delighted, and Jongdae doesn’t catch it at first, lets the words come out of his mouth, “Why are you laughing like this; hurry up and give it back,” but then he sees the look on Chanyeol’s face, and Jongdae wants to punch that smug face.
“I’m going home,” wails Jongdae in outrage, when he discovers that it was Minseok who took it in the end. “So annoying!” The members have a good laugh at his expense, but Jongdae just shakes his head and whines more, stamping off.
On the way back to their cars, Chanyeol catches him as he’s walking behind the rest of the group, and bends to whisper into his ear, “You should misplace your wallet more often,” before speeding off to pester Baekhyun and Sehun, leaving Jongdae gaping at him, mouth opening and closing several times before he finds his senses again.
Throughout the car-ride and the trip to the beach, Jongdae’s traitorous mind can’t help but think of Chanyeol’s low voice in his ear, and the way he smiled that wicked grin with Jongdae’s hands on him, and he’s suitably distracted even as they reach their lodgings for the night.
It’s near midnight when they’re almost finished filming for the day, and Jongdae nearly jumps a foot in the air when Chanyeol slips into the bathroom unannounced, locking the door securely behind him. “You ass,” whispers Jongdae at their reflections in the mirror, as Chanyeol snickers at him, tossing his towel next to where Jongdae is standing by the sink. “Don’t say stuff like that on television.”
“It’s not like anyone heard it,” says Chanyeol, his face the very picture of innocence. “Besides, I meant it.”
“You’re such an idiot,” says Jongdae, but it’s with fond tones, and he turns around to face Chanyeol, who’s closed the distance between them several more inches. “So easy.”
“I’m not easy,” says Chanyeol indignantly. Jongdae just laughs softly, reaching up to slide his hand across the nape of Chanyeol’s neck, tugging him down. One of the thin shoulder straps of Chanyeol’s sleeveless shirt slips a little, and Jongdae angles his head to close his teeth over the curve of Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly, revelling in the sharp hiss that Chanyeol exhales above him.
Jongdae hums against skin. “Yes, you are.”
“Just a little,” admits Chanyeol, resting his hands on Jongdae’s hips, and his palms radiate warmth. “What can I say? I like it when you get handsy.”
“Not much time for that now,” murmurs Jongdae, running his hands down Chanyeol’s chest, fingers skimming down to dip under Chanyeol’s shirt, teasing over soft skin, and Chanyeol’s breath hitches several times, as Jongdae drags his fingernails upwards. “The others are going to think that we’re up to something.”
Chanyeol scoffs, and makes a soft noise in the back of his throat when Jongdae flicks his thumb over Chanyeol’s nipple lightly. “I’m pretty sure at least three of them know exactly what we’re doing.”
“Only three?” Jongdae hums again, and ghosts his palms back down Chanyeol’s body again. Chanyeol bites back a moan and rocks back on his heels, obviously impatient, and Jongdae chuckles, sliding his hand past the waistband of Chanyeol’s grey sweatpants, palming Chanyeol’s cock, and Chanyeol’s hips stutter up into his grasp almost immediately. “Woah there, get a grip, kid.”
“You’re only two months older than me, ah,” says Chanyeol, and his head lolls back when Jongdae thumbs over the head of his cock, rubbing over that sensitive spot just on the underside, and Chanyeol breathes out, “besides, I haven’t jerked off all week in hopes that you’d do the job for me.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Again, idiot,” he states, his free hand neatly plucking out the tiny bottle of lube that Chanyeol’s stashed in his pocket beforehand. “Three minutes.”
“You suck,” says Chanyeol half-heartedly, and he leans down to suck a kiss into Jongdae’s neck as Jongdae slicks up his fingers and tosses the near-empty bottle into the trashcan under the counter. “Come on.”
Chanyeol’s cock is hot and heavy in Jongdae’s hand, and Jongdae takes his time beginning, alternating between long, full downstrokes and shorter, lighter upstrokes, grip snug but not too tight. Chanyeol is already biting down on his lower lip, one hand holding onto the sink behind him for balance, and with every snap of Jongdae’s wrist, his hips rock forward without his control.
“Don’t let them hear us,” breathes Jongdae into Chanyeol’s shoulder, and he presses a kiss to his skin as he speeds up his thrusts just the slightest bit, and he can tell by the flush on Chanyeol’s neck that he’s close, and Chanyeol ends up biting down on the back of his hand to muffle the cry that comes with his release, arching into Jongdae’s grip, and Jongdae gives him a last few strokes as he rides it out, whispering little words that don’t quite make it to Chanyeol’s ears.
“Mm,” says Chanyeol, sated and very much satisfied, as he always is when Jongdae jerks him off, and he grabs his forgotten towel to clean up quickly as Jongdae runs the tap. “You’re great.”
“I know I am.” Jongdae watches Chanyeol straighten himself out. “Wish I could say the same for you.”
“You’re so mean to me,” bemoans Chanyeol, but he’s slinging his arms around Jongdae anyway, and Jongdae has to tiptoe to meet Chanyeol’s lips in a quiet kiss, but it’s sweet and easy, with the way Chanyeol presses their tongues together and nips faintly at his lower lip, leaning down to make up for his height and angling his face to slot their mouths together easier. “Want me to return the favour?” he murmurs, and his voice is deep and sleepy, and it sends a warm shiver down Jongdae’s spine.
“Tomorrow,” whispers Jongdae, and he kisses Chanyeol again. “Come on. We need to close the recording soon.”
“Some Radiohead before that, though?” asks Chanyeol hopefully, following Jongdae through the door. “Can’t have a sleepover without some music.”
“It’s not a sleepover,” says Kyungsoo, who’s lying on the couch nearby, “and at least have the decency to hold off while other people suffer alone, won’t you.”
“You’re just jealous they didn’t invite you,” says Baekhyun mildly, who’s lying on a thin mattress on the floor, tapping away on his phone. “By the way, why wasn’t I called to your little party?”
“The bathroom’s only big enough for two people,” says Jongdae solemly, flopping down beside Baekhyun, and he glances up at the camera. “Please tell me that’s been turned off.”
“Nope,” says Baekhyun cheerily, “but I turned the microphone off, so it’s fine. They’ll probably think we’re talking about showering together again.”
A sigh comes from the now blanket-covered lump on the couch. “Which reminds me; I’ve told you to stop walking in on me while I’m in the bathroom, Baekhyun.”
“Then why do you leave the door unlocked?” says Chanyeol, tuning the guitar in his lap, and he plays the first few chords of the intro to Creep. “Besides, I don’t see you kicking him out, either.”
“Goodnight,” says Kyungsoo immediately, and he rolls over, ignoring them.
Jongdae sighs into his pillow. “Why don’t you ever walk in on me showering?”
“You don’t deserve my presence,” says Baekhyun, still glued to his phone. “Oh, turn the microphone back on, will you, Sehun? Good boy.”