[oneshot] learning from the best
Title: learning from the best
Pairing: park chanyeol/shin sungwoo
Rating: nc17
Genre: pwp
Warnings: swearing, sex (highlight for specific kinks: age difference, vague D/s vibes, relationship imbalance of the mentor/mentee variety, praise)
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: set after chanyeol visits sungwoo's three musketeers wrap party during roommate episode 4. a gift to yeolie for sharing my proclivities and throwing a bunch of ideas around with me earlier this month :* 2,843 words.
Some time between Sungwoo's fifth and sixth shots of soju, he turns toward Chanyeol again, arm settling heavy like a blanket over his shoulders, and asks, "You really didn't have any schedules tonight?"
Chanyeol beams at him around the cup of ice water one of the waitresses had brought him half an hour ago. "I told you, hyung," he says, curling into the radiating circle of Sungwoo's body heat. The man's a fucking furnace. "I wouldn't have been able to come if I did."
Chanyeol follows the flex of Sungwoo's arm down to the tips of his fingers as he reaches for the nearest open bottle of soju. Something cloudy and peach-flavored. His own fingers are freezing around his cup, the sides of it wet with condensation. Sungwoo's hand lands heavily on Chanyeol's thigh and Chanyeol nearly lets go as his leg stiffens. The only reason it doesn't spill all over his lap is that the table catches it first.
When Sungwoo finishes topping his shot glass off, he raises it and clinks it against Chanyeol's water, eyes sharpening as he surveys him. Faintly, Chanyeol wishes he had that kind of tolerance.
"It's only been two weeks and I already know what you're like," Sungwoo says, crow's feet deepening as he grins. "Even if you're busy or tired you won't tell people if you think it'll inconvenience them. You didn't have to come, you know."
"I know," he returns, scooting back to slouch against the wooden table behind them. "But I wanted to."
Sungwoo jams a firm hand into Chanyeol's side. Chanyeol snaps up straight again, licking his lips. "Posture," he says, and picks his chopsticks up for the next round of samgyupsal.
Sungwoo pushes his glass away after lucky number seven. One of the actresses gives a long toast as the evening winds down, thanks Chanyeol for coming at the end-the handsome one from EXO, she says, eyes bright from all the alcohol-and Sungwoo, on his knees, grabs Chanyeol in a gentle headlock, one hand coming up to ruffle his hair. Chanyeol's nose brushes against Sungwoo's shirt. He catches a huge whiff of sweat, soju, sharp aftershave-and his entire head just fizzes out for a moment, completely wiped clean, as if something hot's bubbling up from his chest and coming out of his ears like steam. When he comes back enough for coherent thought, Sungwoo's pulled away to shake Kyuhyun's hand over his head.
Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath, chugs the rest of his water to clear the slow molasses slide in his brain, and thinks, fuck.
He's loitering on the sidewalk waiting for his ride to pull up when Sungwoo and his costars spill out onto the pavement. Sungwoo takes one look at Chanyeol, sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and strolls over. "We can go back to the house in my van," he offers, gesturing at the vehicle parked across the street. "Together."
"Sure, hyung," Chanyeol says. He swallows around the lump in his throat and shoots his driver a quick text: sungwoo-hyung's giving me a lift. Sungwoo cups his elbow as they cross the road, pulls the door open for him in one fluid motion. Chanyeol totters in. He must imagine feeling hands steadying his hips, because Sungwoo's face is clear when the door's closed. A minute later, the engine turns over.
The only indication Sungwoo's drunk anything at all is the faint smell of soju that fills the van as they trundle back home. Sungwoo's thigh presses warm along his. Chanyeol props his head against the cool window. It starts drizzling on the way, light spring rain that patters against the glass. If he squints, the streetlights look like they've got tails streaking out far beyond their posts, little comets in the dark.
It's half past midnight by the time they pull up in front of the house. Sungwoo insists that Chanyeol wash up first, so he does it as fast as humanly possible, hops out before the water's even stopped dripping from the showerhead and almost gets twisted in the curtain.
Sungwoo takes longer. Chanyeol's hair is already mostly dry by the time Sungwoo pushes out from the bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands to scrub at his head. "You did good, today," he remarks, leaning against the frame of the door, and it takes Chanyeol a long minute to remember-building the bench in the afternoon. With Seho. That's right. Lugging big pieces of wood around, hammering nails, screwing screws. In Chanyeol's defense, the last drops of water rolling down Sungwoo's chest are incredibly distracting. Chanyeol hasn't seen a dude with actual hair on his pecs in-forever?
He clears his throat and grins. "Shouldn't I be the one telling you that, hyung? Congratulations on a successful performance."
Sungwoo's mouth twitches. "How do you know it was successful? You didn't even see the show today."
"That's true," Chanyeol says, rolling over on his side in bed. "But that doesn't matter, does it? You still worked hard. Plus-" He chews on his lower lip for a second before beaming. "It's you."
Sungwoo chuckles, a low rumble that seems to fill the room and expand outward, like the sound alone is enough to burst the walls. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, still toweling his hair dry, and Chanyeol smells the spicy aftershave again. Fresh this time.
Before he can stop himself, he opens his mouth and asks, "Hey, hyung? Why do you use aftershave if you don't actually-you know. Shave?"
Sungwoo snorts and pins Chanyeol with a Look before going back to his hair. "Just because I don't shave now doesn't mean I never used to. It's a habit. You'll fall into those as you get older and wiser." He tempers the jab with an easy smile. "Plus, it smells a lot better than cologne, don't you think?"
Chanyeol makes the mistake of breathing in again. The aftershave and shampoo mix together, light and heady. He absolutely does not melt into his pillow. "Yeah," he croaks. "It does."
Sungwoo finishes with the towel and tosses it over the end of his bed to dry. "Hey, Chanyeollie," he says after a moment, fiddling with the hem of the fabric around his waist.
"Yes, hyung?"
"What do you know about Athos? From The Three Musketeers?"
Chanyeol lifts his head, considering. "The character you played, right? He was the oldest one. The most experienced and distinguished, protective, brave. Kind of a-mentor, to the others."
"Very good," Sungwoo murmurs, sounding pleasantly surprised. He leans forward. The bed creaks beneath him, and his towel rides up to expose more thigh, pale skin stretched over hard muscle. "I'm impressed."
Chanyeol's throat goes dry in two seconds flat. He's not sure if it's the aftershave or the proximity or the praise, but his head's doing that steam thing again, threatening to go curiously blank, and he fights to keep a straight face. There's no mistaking the churning in Chanyeol's gut, or the kind, knowing glint in Sungwoo's eyes when he finally lets the towel fall open to expose his crotch.
Even soft, Sungwoo's big. He would be. Without thinking, Chanyeol slides off the bed and onto his knees with a thump, lips parted, breath coming and going in shallow pants. "Mentor, you said," Sungwoo repeats with meaning, and warmth pools in Chanyeol's stomach, oozing down toward his groin.
"You've taught me a lot of things these past few weeks, hyung," Chanyeol says with effort, tongue suddenly too big for his mouth, salivating a little as he stares at Sungwoo's dick. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and exhales loudly, knees slipping against the floorboards as his spine snaps into perfect posture. "What's one more?"
Sungwoo reaches out to cradle Chanyeol's chin with one big hand and Chanyeol turns his face into it, eyes closing for a moment before looking up again.
"So does this make me d'Artagnan?" he asks, grinning.
Sungwoo groans. "Come on. Don't make it weird, kid." He shuffles closer to the edge of his bed and brings his hand around to press lightly against the back of Chanyeol's neck. "Let's see what you can do."
Chanyeol hasn't actually sucked that much dick in his life. Not many others have returned the favor, either-handjobs have always seemed like the easiest and most efficient way to get someone off. Way more sanitary to put his hand down there than his lips. Right now, though, his mouth's filling with saliva the way it usually only does when he smells well-cooked galbi. He looks up at Sungwoo's encouraging face through his bangs and leans forward to give the tip of Sungwoo's soft cock a tiny first lick.
It's nice to pretend he doesn't know anything. That he's starting completely from scratch. Almost as nice as it is to just let someone else far more experienced than he is take the reins and tell Chanyeol everything he needs to do to please him. Sungwoo's hand stays warm and steady on his neck, guiding him in, until the full tip of Sungwoo's dick is tucked between Chanyeol's lips. "That's it," he says, "that's perfect," and Chanyeol squirms a little, feels himself getting hard in his loose pajama pants just from the acknowledgement. "Now suck."
Chanyeol does. He flushes with delight when Sungwoo inhales sharply and starts stiffening in his mouth. Chanyeol lets his jaw drop wider, lips curling around his teeth, and tries to take more of Sungwoo's girth into his mouth-only for Sungwoo's hand to twist up and fist his hair, pull him right back where he was before. Chanyeol remembers the way Sungwoo had carded his hands through Chanyeol's hair when he'd just woken up that morning and makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat.
"Be patient," Sungwoo says, firm but not unkind, loosening his grip just a tad. "Just listen to me and everything will be fine."
Chanyeol relaxes. He scoots in closer across the floor, knees framing Sungwoo's bare feet, and waits.
"Good boy," Sungwoo says, exhaling, and Chanyeol feels a fresh wave of saliva rush over his tongue. "Now, flick the tip of your tongue against the underside-yes. Yes. Swirl it up and around. Dip it in the slit-ah. Right there."
Chanyeol's ears steam up again, as if his brain's been replaced with cotton, until the only thing he can hear is Sungwoo's soothing voice and the only thing he can feel is the slowly hardening dick between his lips, filling his mouth centimeter by inexorable centimeter. Sungwoo coaxes him down until the tip of his dick taps the back of Chanyeol's throat, his mouth stretched wide open around Sungwoo's hard length, Chanyeol's chin sopping wet with spit.
"Suck your cheeks in and swallow," he says, and Chanyeol struggles to obey. The first time he tries he gags so hard his eyes start watering, but the second time he makes it, a smooth undulation of his throat, and Sungwoo's dick slides in deep enough that Chanyeol's nose bumps against the plane of Sungwoo's stomach, buried in his pubes. "Breathe in through your nose."
Chanyeol sniffs noisily, a lone tear escaping the corner of his eye as he shifts, hard-on burning against his leg. He palms himself through his pants to relieve the pressure, fingers curling around himself, the fabric bunching around the seam of his legs. He attempts to smile around the dick in his mouth, skin stretching over his cheekbones, and Sungwoo reaches down with his free hand to thumb Chanyeol's dimple, rough pad scraping against the skin of his face and smoothing the tear off his cheek.
"Tongue up the underside again, if you can-yes, good, you're doing so well. You're better at this than I thought you'd be."
Sungwoo's stomach glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. His voice isn't as steady as it was ten minutes ago. Chanyeol hollows his cheeks again and Sungwoo lets out a deep groan, fucks up into Chanyeol's mouth so hard that he gags again, nose smashing against Sungwoo's stomach. He can't fucking breathe. Feels like he's floating, like the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground is Sungwoo's hand bracketing the back of his head. His mouth's so full his jaw's about to crack, a sharp ache crawling up from his neck to settle along the line of his chin.
"Now," Sungwoo says, the first signs of unsteadiness creeping into his voice, "take your hands off your own dick-" Chanyeol twitches guiltily, here, "and bring them up to cup-mmf. Not so tight. Gently, with your fingers-"
Chanyeol strokes the soft skin of Sungwoo's balls and rolls them in his hands as he presses forward with his mouth. He's faintly aware that he's humping Sungwoo's leg as he slurps, tongue licking at the bottom of his erection, and that it should be embarrassing, probably, how badly he needs to come-would be, if he felt like his body had any capacity for embarrassment any more. But it doesn't. All there's room for now is the desperate need to finish what he started, to do his best, to please his-
"Bob up-and down," Sungwoo says, tense, hands clenching in Chanyeol's hair. Chanyeol pulls his head back and then surges forward again, the room filling with slick wet noises as his lips and his tongue slide against Sungwoo's heated skin, nose filled with the smell of musk and aftershave. Sungwoo's thighs clamp in closer, hard and tight, and he thrusts one final time up into Chanyeol's mouth before he spills.
The last time Chanyeol tasted semen, it was his own, a couple months ago, sticky and salty-bitter. Sungwoo's jizz is thick and vaguely sweet in comparison, coats the inside of his mouth until Chanyeol has to pull his head back and swallow, the rest of it landing across his face. He licks his lips and coughs for a minute, still trying to gather his bearings, which is when Sungwoo pulls him up onto his bed and lays him out across the mattress, hands diving past the waistband of his pajama pants.
"You want to come, don't you?"
"Yes, please," Chanyeol rasps, bucking up against Sungwoo's hand. He whines when Sungwoo holds him down by the hip and traces a maddeningly slow finger down the length of his dick. "Please, hyung, I need to-"
"Well, you've been so good I don't see why not." Sungwoo fists him twice in quick succession and Chanyeol's gone, back arching to fuck himself up into Sungwoo's palm, mouth slack as a loud moan drops out of his mouth.
He drapes a sluggish arm over his face as he spirals down from it, peeking out from beneath the edge of his forearm to see Sungwoo quietly tasting the come on his hand.
Sungwoo notices Chanyeol watching and makes a face. "I can show you how to make your come taste better," he remarks, and the corners of Chanyeol's mouth turn up. He nods as vigorously as he can. Still trying to teach him something. So considerate. Sungwoo grabs the box of tissues from the bedside table and wipes Chanyeol's face off before he wipes his own hands clean. "Your jaw hurt?" he asks, and massages most of the ache away after Chanyeol nods again. He can't stop smiling, God damn it. Sungwoo notes the look on his face and laughs. "You know, I was just like you when I was your age."
Chanyeol blinks. "What, eager and willing?"
"Skinny and pretty," Sungwoo says drily, "but yes, that too."
Chanyeol can feel himself flushing again, stomach lurching at Sungwoo's words. "I'll do even better next time," he says, trying not to sound too fervent. "I promise."
Sungwoo just laughs again and shoves Chanyeol back over to his side of the room, steady hands tucking his clean blanket around him. When the lights are out, though, Sungwoo's voice floats over again just as Chanyeol's drifting off. "We can try something with handcuffs in a few days, if you want," he says, and Chanyeol's too tired to mumble, fuck yes, I do want, very much before he's falling into the most satisfying sleep he's had in months.
In the morning, Chanyeol wakes up in a blind panic and hops the divide onto Sungwoo's bed. "Hyung," he hisses, shaking him awake. "The cameras, oh my God, what are we going to do?"
Sungwoo rolls onto his back and yawns, scraping a hand across his forehead, completely at ease. "You've got a lot to learn, kid," he murmurs, reaching over to pat Chanyeol's knee. "I disabled those when you were in the shower last night." He peers at Chanyeol through the jungle of his bedhead, eyes twinkling. "Or are you into voyeurism? Because I can work with that."
Chanyeol stands, does a swift about-face, and marches into the bathroom to deal with his morning wood, face burning.
fin
A/N: I LITERALLY DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT GOODBYE!!!!!! 😩
Pairing: park chanyeol/shin sungwoo
Rating: nc17
Genre: pwp
Warnings: swearing, sex (highlight for specific kinks: age difference, vague D/s vibes, relationship imbalance of the mentor/mentee variety, praise)
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: set after chanyeol visits sungwoo's three musketeers wrap party during roommate episode 4. a gift to yeolie for sharing my proclivities and throwing a bunch of ideas around with me earlier this month :* 2,843 words.
Some time between Sungwoo's fifth and sixth shots of soju, he turns toward Chanyeol again, arm settling heavy like a blanket over his shoulders, and asks, "You really didn't have any schedules tonight?"
Chanyeol beams at him around the cup of ice water one of the waitresses had brought him half an hour ago. "I told you, hyung," he says, curling into the radiating circle of Sungwoo's body heat. The man's a fucking furnace. "I wouldn't have been able to come if I did."
Chanyeol follows the flex of Sungwoo's arm down to the tips of his fingers as he reaches for the nearest open bottle of soju. Something cloudy and peach-flavored. His own fingers are freezing around his cup, the sides of it wet with condensation. Sungwoo's hand lands heavily on Chanyeol's thigh and Chanyeol nearly lets go as his leg stiffens. The only reason it doesn't spill all over his lap is that the table catches it first.
When Sungwoo finishes topping his shot glass off, he raises it and clinks it against Chanyeol's water, eyes sharpening as he surveys him. Faintly, Chanyeol wishes he had that kind of tolerance.
"It's only been two weeks and I already know what you're like," Sungwoo says, crow's feet deepening as he grins. "Even if you're busy or tired you won't tell people if you think it'll inconvenience them. You didn't have to come, you know."
"I know," he returns, scooting back to slouch against the wooden table behind them. "But I wanted to."
Sungwoo jams a firm hand into Chanyeol's side. Chanyeol snaps up straight again, licking his lips. "Posture," he says, and picks his chopsticks up for the next round of samgyupsal.
Sungwoo pushes his glass away after lucky number seven. One of the actresses gives a long toast as the evening winds down, thanks Chanyeol for coming at the end-the handsome one from EXO, she says, eyes bright from all the alcohol-and Sungwoo, on his knees, grabs Chanyeol in a gentle headlock, one hand coming up to ruffle his hair. Chanyeol's nose brushes against Sungwoo's shirt. He catches a huge whiff of sweat, soju, sharp aftershave-and his entire head just fizzes out for a moment, completely wiped clean, as if something hot's bubbling up from his chest and coming out of his ears like steam. When he comes back enough for coherent thought, Sungwoo's pulled away to shake Kyuhyun's hand over his head.
Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath, chugs the rest of his water to clear the slow molasses slide in his brain, and thinks, fuck.
He's loitering on the sidewalk waiting for his ride to pull up when Sungwoo and his costars spill out onto the pavement. Sungwoo takes one look at Chanyeol, sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and strolls over. "We can go back to the house in my van," he offers, gesturing at the vehicle parked across the street. "Together."
"Sure, hyung," Chanyeol says. He swallows around the lump in his throat and shoots his driver a quick text: sungwoo-hyung's giving me a lift. Sungwoo cups his elbow as they cross the road, pulls the door open for him in one fluid motion. Chanyeol totters in. He must imagine feeling hands steadying his hips, because Sungwoo's face is clear when the door's closed. A minute later, the engine turns over.
The only indication Sungwoo's drunk anything at all is the faint smell of soju that fills the van as they trundle back home. Sungwoo's thigh presses warm along his. Chanyeol props his head against the cool window. It starts drizzling on the way, light spring rain that patters against the glass. If he squints, the streetlights look like they've got tails streaking out far beyond their posts, little comets in the dark.
It's half past midnight by the time they pull up in front of the house. Sungwoo insists that Chanyeol wash up first, so he does it as fast as humanly possible, hops out before the water's even stopped dripping from the showerhead and almost gets twisted in the curtain.
Sungwoo takes longer. Chanyeol's hair is already mostly dry by the time Sungwoo pushes out from the bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands to scrub at his head. "You did good, today," he remarks, leaning against the frame of the door, and it takes Chanyeol a long minute to remember-building the bench in the afternoon. With Seho. That's right. Lugging big pieces of wood around, hammering nails, screwing screws. In Chanyeol's defense, the last drops of water rolling down Sungwoo's chest are incredibly distracting. Chanyeol hasn't seen a dude with actual hair on his pecs in-forever?
He clears his throat and grins. "Shouldn't I be the one telling you that, hyung? Congratulations on a successful performance."
Sungwoo's mouth twitches. "How do you know it was successful? You didn't even see the show today."
"That's true," Chanyeol says, rolling over on his side in bed. "But that doesn't matter, does it? You still worked hard. Plus-" He chews on his lower lip for a second before beaming. "It's you."
Sungwoo chuckles, a low rumble that seems to fill the room and expand outward, like the sound alone is enough to burst the walls. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, still toweling his hair dry, and Chanyeol smells the spicy aftershave again. Fresh this time.
Before he can stop himself, he opens his mouth and asks, "Hey, hyung? Why do you use aftershave if you don't actually-you know. Shave?"
Sungwoo snorts and pins Chanyeol with a Look before going back to his hair. "Just because I don't shave now doesn't mean I never used to. It's a habit. You'll fall into those as you get older and wiser." He tempers the jab with an easy smile. "Plus, it smells a lot better than cologne, don't you think?"
Chanyeol makes the mistake of breathing in again. The aftershave and shampoo mix together, light and heady. He absolutely does not melt into his pillow. "Yeah," he croaks. "It does."
Sungwoo finishes with the towel and tosses it over the end of his bed to dry. "Hey, Chanyeollie," he says after a moment, fiddling with the hem of the fabric around his waist.
"Yes, hyung?"
"What do you know about Athos? From The Three Musketeers?"
Chanyeol lifts his head, considering. "The character you played, right? He was the oldest one. The most experienced and distinguished, protective, brave. Kind of a-mentor, to the others."
"Very good," Sungwoo murmurs, sounding pleasantly surprised. He leans forward. The bed creaks beneath him, and his towel rides up to expose more thigh, pale skin stretched over hard muscle. "I'm impressed."
Chanyeol's throat goes dry in two seconds flat. He's not sure if it's the aftershave or the proximity or the praise, but his head's doing that steam thing again, threatening to go curiously blank, and he fights to keep a straight face. There's no mistaking the churning in Chanyeol's gut, or the kind, knowing glint in Sungwoo's eyes when he finally lets the towel fall open to expose his crotch.
Even soft, Sungwoo's big. He would be. Without thinking, Chanyeol slides off the bed and onto his knees with a thump, lips parted, breath coming and going in shallow pants. "Mentor, you said," Sungwoo repeats with meaning, and warmth pools in Chanyeol's stomach, oozing down toward his groin.
"You've taught me a lot of things these past few weeks, hyung," Chanyeol says with effort, tongue suddenly too big for his mouth, salivating a little as he stares at Sungwoo's dick. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and exhales loudly, knees slipping against the floorboards as his spine snaps into perfect posture. "What's one more?"
Sungwoo reaches out to cradle Chanyeol's chin with one big hand and Chanyeol turns his face into it, eyes closing for a moment before looking up again.
"So does this make me d'Artagnan?" he asks, grinning.
Sungwoo groans. "Come on. Don't make it weird, kid." He shuffles closer to the edge of his bed and brings his hand around to press lightly against the back of Chanyeol's neck. "Let's see what you can do."
Chanyeol hasn't actually sucked that much dick in his life. Not many others have returned the favor, either-handjobs have always seemed like the easiest and most efficient way to get someone off. Way more sanitary to put his hand down there than his lips. Right now, though, his mouth's filling with saliva the way it usually only does when he smells well-cooked galbi. He looks up at Sungwoo's encouraging face through his bangs and leans forward to give the tip of Sungwoo's soft cock a tiny first lick.
It's nice to pretend he doesn't know anything. That he's starting completely from scratch. Almost as nice as it is to just let someone else far more experienced than he is take the reins and tell Chanyeol everything he needs to do to please him. Sungwoo's hand stays warm and steady on his neck, guiding him in, until the full tip of Sungwoo's dick is tucked between Chanyeol's lips. "That's it," he says, "that's perfect," and Chanyeol squirms a little, feels himself getting hard in his loose pajama pants just from the acknowledgement. "Now suck."
Chanyeol does. He flushes with delight when Sungwoo inhales sharply and starts stiffening in his mouth. Chanyeol lets his jaw drop wider, lips curling around his teeth, and tries to take more of Sungwoo's girth into his mouth-only for Sungwoo's hand to twist up and fist his hair, pull him right back where he was before. Chanyeol remembers the way Sungwoo had carded his hands through Chanyeol's hair when he'd just woken up that morning and makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat.
"Be patient," Sungwoo says, firm but not unkind, loosening his grip just a tad. "Just listen to me and everything will be fine."
Chanyeol relaxes. He scoots in closer across the floor, knees framing Sungwoo's bare feet, and waits.
"Good boy," Sungwoo says, exhaling, and Chanyeol feels a fresh wave of saliva rush over his tongue. "Now, flick the tip of your tongue against the underside-yes. Yes. Swirl it up and around. Dip it in the slit-ah. Right there."
Chanyeol's ears steam up again, as if his brain's been replaced with cotton, until the only thing he can hear is Sungwoo's soothing voice and the only thing he can feel is the slowly hardening dick between his lips, filling his mouth centimeter by inexorable centimeter. Sungwoo coaxes him down until the tip of his dick taps the back of Chanyeol's throat, his mouth stretched wide open around Sungwoo's hard length, Chanyeol's chin sopping wet with spit.
"Suck your cheeks in and swallow," he says, and Chanyeol struggles to obey. The first time he tries he gags so hard his eyes start watering, but the second time he makes it, a smooth undulation of his throat, and Sungwoo's dick slides in deep enough that Chanyeol's nose bumps against the plane of Sungwoo's stomach, buried in his pubes. "Breathe in through your nose."
Chanyeol sniffs noisily, a lone tear escaping the corner of his eye as he shifts, hard-on burning against his leg. He palms himself through his pants to relieve the pressure, fingers curling around himself, the fabric bunching around the seam of his legs. He attempts to smile around the dick in his mouth, skin stretching over his cheekbones, and Sungwoo reaches down with his free hand to thumb Chanyeol's dimple, rough pad scraping against the skin of his face and smoothing the tear off his cheek.
"Tongue up the underside again, if you can-yes, good, you're doing so well. You're better at this than I thought you'd be."
Sungwoo's stomach glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. His voice isn't as steady as it was ten minutes ago. Chanyeol hollows his cheeks again and Sungwoo lets out a deep groan, fucks up into Chanyeol's mouth so hard that he gags again, nose smashing against Sungwoo's stomach. He can't fucking breathe. Feels like he's floating, like the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground is Sungwoo's hand bracketing the back of his head. His mouth's so full his jaw's about to crack, a sharp ache crawling up from his neck to settle along the line of his chin.
"Now," Sungwoo says, the first signs of unsteadiness creeping into his voice, "take your hands off your own dick-" Chanyeol twitches guiltily, here, "and bring them up to cup-mmf. Not so tight. Gently, with your fingers-"
Chanyeol strokes the soft skin of Sungwoo's balls and rolls them in his hands as he presses forward with his mouth. He's faintly aware that he's humping Sungwoo's leg as he slurps, tongue licking at the bottom of his erection, and that it should be embarrassing, probably, how badly he needs to come-would be, if he felt like his body had any capacity for embarrassment any more. But it doesn't. All there's room for now is the desperate need to finish what he started, to do his best, to please his-
"Bob up-and down," Sungwoo says, tense, hands clenching in Chanyeol's hair. Chanyeol pulls his head back and then surges forward again, the room filling with slick wet noises as his lips and his tongue slide against Sungwoo's heated skin, nose filled with the smell of musk and aftershave. Sungwoo's thighs clamp in closer, hard and tight, and he thrusts one final time up into Chanyeol's mouth before he spills.
The last time Chanyeol tasted semen, it was his own, a couple months ago, sticky and salty-bitter. Sungwoo's jizz is thick and vaguely sweet in comparison, coats the inside of his mouth until Chanyeol has to pull his head back and swallow, the rest of it landing across his face. He licks his lips and coughs for a minute, still trying to gather his bearings, which is when Sungwoo pulls him up onto his bed and lays him out across the mattress, hands diving past the waistband of his pajama pants.
"You want to come, don't you?"
"Yes, please," Chanyeol rasps, bucking up against Sungwoo's hand. He whines when Sungwoo holds him down by the hip and traces a maddeningly slow finger down the length of his dick. "Please, hyung, I need to-"
"Well, you've been so good I don't see why not." Sungwoo fists him twice in quick succession and Chanyeol's gone, back arching to fuck himself up into Sungwoo's palm, mouth slack as a loud moan drops out of his mouth.
He drapes a sluggish arm over his face as he spirals down from it, peeking out from beneath the edge of his forearm to see Sungwoo quietly tasting the come on his hand.
Sungwoo notices Chanyeol watching and makes a face. "I can show you how to make your come taste better," he remarks, and the corners of Chanyeol's mouth turn up. He nods as vigorously as he can. Still trying to teach him something. So considerate. Sungwoo grabs the box of tissues from the bedside table and wipes Chanyeol's face off before he wipes his own hands clean. "Your jaw hurt?" he asks, and massages most of the ache away after Chanyeol nods again. He can't stop smiling, God damn it. Sungwoo notes the look on his face and laughs. "You know, I was just like you when I was your age."
Chanyeol blinks. "What, eager and willing?"
"Skinny and pretty," Sungwoo says drily, "but yes, that too."
Chanyeol can feel himself flushing again, stomach lurching at Sungwoo's words. "I'll do even better next time," he says, trying not to sound too fervent. "I promise."
Sungwoo just laughs again and shoves Chanyeol back over to his side of the room, steady hands tucking his clean blanket around him. When the lights are out, though, Sungwoo's voice floats over again just as Chanyeol's drifting off. "We can try something with handcuffs in a few days, if you want," he says, and Chanyeol's too tired to mumble, fuck yes, I do want, very much before he's falling into the most satisfying sleep he's had in months.
In the morning, Chanyeol wakes up in a blind panic and hops the divide onto Sungwoo's bed. "Hyung," he hisses, shaking him awake. "The cameras, oh my God, what are we going to do?"
Sungwoo rolls onto his back and yawns, scraping a hand across his forehead, completely at ease. "You've got a lot to learn, kid," he murmurs, reaching over to pat Chanyeol's knee. "I disabled those when you were in the shower last night." He peers at Chanyeol through the jungle of his bedhead, eyes twinkling. "Or are you into voyeurism? Because I can work with that."
Chanyeol stands, does a swift about-face, and marches into the bathroom to deal with his morning wood, face burning.
fin
A/N: I LITERALLY DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT GOODBYE!!!!!! 😩