liar, liar. [1/1]
taemin/minho; nc-17; ~1900; liar, liar, pants on fire. Or, without pants, on fire.
a/n: dedicated to chaeii and whoever's bummed about school! stay happy. ♥ (including myself) So, I've never tried graphic smut before. ;__; I'll work harder in future! >)
warnings: language, pwp
liar, liar.
Taemin was never inclined to be extreme. Taemin was inclined to lie though, and while Minho thought he was completely drunk, he was sober enough to feel his hyung stiffening under his hand.
His hand that was pressing into Minho’s crotch.
It’s not his fault that Minho was always ignoring him. Even now, as Taemin presses his little body against his hyung, he knows Minho’s trying his best not to fuck him senseless. He doesn’t understand why his hyung tries so hard to ignore him, though. There’s an unmistakable hardness on his palm, and Taemin grips a little tighter, hearing a sharp inhale.
“Taemin,” He looks at Minho from under heavy eyelids - just the way that sends things in his hyung straight to places Taemin isn’t allowed to explore. Well, not often. He doesn’t miss his hyung’s throat shifting. “Stop.”
“Why?” Minho bucks into his hand as it slips lower between the boy’s legs, hissing and gripping his wrist.
“Y-You…” Taemin nips Minho’s chest through his leather jacket, stepping closer and pushing up on the older boy’s crotch - a hand pulls on his hair roughly. Minho’s beginning to rest on his toes, eyes tightly shut. “You’re drunk.”
They are hidden in a desolate street’s darkness, barely a few minutes out of a club. Minho thinks Taemin is drunk.
Taemin’s going to lie.
The force of being flung against bricks rattles Taemin’s head, and his yelp gets muffled as Minho kisses him, full and unrestrained, a tongue sliding into his mouth. It’s hot and wet and skillful and he pulls on Minho’s jacket reflexively. He likes to rile Minho up, because the boy becomes violent and possessive and he likes to pick apart the self-restraint Minho forces himself to keep.
Over a few months, Taemin has come to terms with never being able to win against Minho in possibly anything but dancing. But he never stops trying. So Taemin shivers as fingers dance along his waistband, their lips bruised and swollen, Minho’s pupils dilated as fuck, and Taemin plays up his little innocent visage under Minho’s scrutiny, eyes travelling from his face to his neck, to his collarbones, and Taemin feels his hyung’s chest beginning to rise and fall heavier.
"Goddamn," Minho mutters and it just eggs Taemin on even more.
His stomach burns as he shoves his tongue against Minho’s. He won’t win but it’s fun to try. Fun to jab at Minho’s pride, because he knows that the older boy’s turned on as hell, something hard jabbing into his thigh, and Taemin knows all the right places to lick and kiss - light behind his ear, hard against his lips, lick under his jaw.
It’s strange how Minho refuses, as far as he can, to have sex with him. It’ strange how the boy can glide his hands up Taemin’s body, to rub Taemin’s nipples and cause Taemin to mewl into their kiss and not want to fuck him.
Minho kisses along his jaw, scalding, and it scatters Taemin’s thoughts as the thumbs continued. Taemin’s breaths are coming short when Minho reaches his throat, lips gentle and burning, and he nearly gasps at a hand cupping his groin - his nipples are pert and sensitive against his shirt.
“You don’t even know,” Minho growls into his ears and Taemin shivers at the hot breaths, clamping down on a sound at the back of his throat as Minho starts rubbing between his legs. “What you are doing.”
His pants are tugged off savagely and the cold night air chills his legs. A jolt rips through him as Minho mouths his erection through his boxers, already hard and throbbing, and his hands bury into black spikes. Suddenly, the boxers collect around his legs and his cock is twitching in front of Minho’s face.
“Y-you’re not going to…” Taemin’s breath hitches when Minho swallows him quickly, warm and hot, and his head tilts back, teeth clenched, trying to stop the sounds coming out from his throat.
They’ve always gone so far, but they’ve only fucked a few times. Taemin almost rips Minho’s hair as his cock reaches the back of his hyung’s throat. Minho likes to make him writhe, Taemin knows. Likes to graze his tongue on Taemin’s slit and cause his hips to jerk.
After long, Taemin knows he can’t last. Not with Minho hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head, leaving his fingers scratching the brick wall and panting. Not with Minho taking him deep and scraping teeth on his cock, making him squirm and trying to muffle his moans and curses - and fuck, Taemin almost comes at Minho looking up at him. It’s understood between them that Minho needs to keep his hands on Taemin’s hips, because when Minho retreats all the way and swallows Taemin whole again, he thrusts forward involuntarily.
“H-hyung, stop,” Taemin manages, close to climaxing at the sight of precum stretching from Minho’s mouth to the tip of his cock, trying to steady his breathing.
“I’m not going to fuck you, Taemin,” Minho says and Taemin nearly groans in frustration - they’re already here. He steps out of his pants, knees almost buckling and cock aching, and he tries not to jack. It’s not the first time this has happened and Taemin’s not having any of that tonight.
They are outside a fucking club’s back alley and Taemin’s going to be fucked right there tonight.
He puts two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them, enjoying the way Minho’s eyes widened. Taemin knows how agitated Minho gets when he preps himself - and he still does, the hand rubbing his groin through leather more proof than anything as Taemin breaches himself with a finger.
It’s uncomfortable and new, every time he does it, and Taemin hears a zipper being undone as he slides a second digit up himself, eyes shut at the sensation. He whimpers as he pushes deeper, legs becoming weak and vision turning hazy - like they were back on the dance floor. Taemin forces his eyes open as his fingers worked and the sight of Minho kneeling with his cock in hand, watching him intently, if anything, just makes Taemin really more desperate than he already is.
“Minho hyung,” Taemin tries to say, and comes out like a plea, breathless and helpless, because well, Taemin’s pretty fucking needy right now. His fingers prod something and he gasps, eyelids fluttering. Abruptly, hard brick collides with his back and his breath catches as fingers are forced deeper, electricity crawling down his legs, as his wrist pokes into Minho’s stomach.
Taemin’s heaving by then, held against the wall with Minho’s grip on his thighs, free hand clutching Minho’s collar weakly. Minho has this feral look on him, eyes so black and breathing deeper than normal and Taemin is thoroughly enjoying this through the haze in his head.
“You’re making this really hard,” Minho rumbles and Taemin pulls his fingers out, wet sounds making Minho’s grip tighten. “Fuck.”
There’s a wet stain where Taemin’s fingers play with Minho’s nipple through the shirt, and Minho bites his bottom lip, cock thick and throbbing on his entrance. Taemin tries to shift his hips, relishing the deep exhale Minho releases. Minho is breathing hard, eyebrows knitted together and Taemin knows he’s nearly winning. It’s hot to watch calm, rationale Minho slowly losing control in shreds.
“We’re already here,” Taemin says, pulling up on Minho’s neck and pressing a hot tongue into the boy’s ear. A tremor ripples through Minho and his hands slide up to Taemin’s hips.
Taemin’s pretty sure Minho doesn’t have anything left in him to refuse anymore - not after his tongue makes it to Minho’s ear. The older boy has many weaknesses and Taemin likes to capitalize on that. So it’s not a surprise Minho’s rocking his hips a little deeper into him, panting slightly into his neck.
“I guess you’re right,” Minho mumbles and Taemin doesn’t even get to anticipate before Minho pushes into him.
Pain splits through Taemin and his fingers curl around Minho’s jacket tightly, too fucking lost in pleasure and pain to even make a sound. He pants lightly as Minho’s dick enters, until he’s all the way in, and he thinks he’s seeing everything in a lighter shade - the exit sign, the illuminated trash bins.
“Fuck,” Taemin hears Minho whisper, and he thinks the same thing - this is way too much for him to handle. His nerves are on fire and the blood is draining from his head, and Minho’s panting below his ear is hot as fuck.
So his hands are losing strength and his legs are beginning to tense, and all Taemin can do is to move his mouth against Minho’s weakly, hot and messy, teeth knocking. The pain is subsiding as Minho licks and sucks and bites on his lips and Taemin’s clinging onto the older boy to keep from falling.
Then Minho starts thrusting up into him, and Taemin’s breaths become shaky, legs tightening around the older boy’s waist. Taemin would’ve found the noises he’s making embarrassing as Minho fucks him - but they are kissing and nibbling and panting into each other’s mouth, Taemin is cutting it dangerously close, feeling heat pool into his groin, his dripping cock smearing precum over his shirt.
The pleasure is edging him precariously close. Taemin tenses up, ears muted and mind hazy and white - he’s not going to come so early, not yet. And Minho pulls back to look at him, flushed and mouth slightly parted, and Taemin smiles a little because he sees the older boy searching for a confirmation, a sliver of worry underneath black lust. He’s really lucky to have Minho, caring, caring Minho, and Taemin begins to think about it.
But suddenly Minho crushes him against the wall and starts fucking him hard and fast. The bricks scrape the back of his neck when Minho thrusts into him forcefully. And Taemin’s cry hitches when Minho pounds into a bundle of nerves, making his body jerk and twitch on white fire. Taemin’s chin is on Minho’s head, clutching his collar for dear life and gasping lightly because there isn’t even time to get a moan out.
His hips hurt, dull where Minho’s fingers are digging, and Minho’s panting into his chest, huffs hot through his shirt and Taemin knows he’s going to have problems keeping calm the next time he hears Minho heaving deeply.
A hand wraps around his cock and starts pumping, roughly together with Minho’s thrusts, and Taemin is cutting it really fucking close, fingers tearing Minho’s hair out.
And as his breaths become shallower and shallower, on a particularly deep thrust, Taemin comes - so fucking hard he blanks out in a convulsion, hands balled into iron. He doesn’t stop trembling and his body is on overdrive, barely breathing and how the fuck is he supposed to recover with Minho still pounding into him?
Then a strangled cry comes from Minho, abruptly burying himself deep into Taemin, grip on his waist becoming harder and shaking underneath him, shuddering silently as he spills into Taemin, hips jerking erratically. And when Minho finally stops, he's panting hard. It takes awhile for Minho to lift his head, and a strange elation bubbles in Taemin at the gentleness found in his hyung’s eyes again, the corners of his eyes drooping tiredly.
Shivers run up his spine as Minho pulls out of him, and Minho almost drops him while lowering him back to the ground, arms trembling slightly pulling up his pants. Taemin feels light-headed and dreamy, resting backwards against the wall because he knows his knees are going to give way if he tries to stand upright. Hot liquid rolls down the inside of Taemin’s thigh as Minho kisses the side of his mouth, missing his lips in exhaustion. The older boy leans on him, chin resting on his shoulder and arms wrapping around his waist slackly.
“No more…” Minho’s words are slurring, voice a deep sleepy rumble. “Alcohol for you.”
So Taemin’s been a bad boy, lying like he did, pretending that he had been drunk. But the bruises on his thighs and hips should be punishment enough, and Taemin isn’t even going to get started on his chafed neck and sore between his legs.
He grins then, right into the exit sign of the bar, hugging Minho’s limp body, warm in the cold night. Honestly though, it had just been orange juice in Taemin’s cup a few hours ago.
Maybe he’ll tell Minho, maybe not.
a/n: dedicated to chaeii and whoever's bummed about school! stay happy. ♥ (including myself) So, I've never tried graphic smut before. ;__; I'll work harder in future! >)
warnings: language, pwp
liar, liar.
Taemin was never inclined to be extreme. Taemin was inclined to lie though, and while Minho thought he was completely drunk, he was sober enough to feel his hyung stiffening under his hand.
His hand that was pressing into Minho’s crotch.
It’s not his fault that Minho was always ignoring him. Even now, as Taemin presses his little body against his hyung, he knows Minho’s trying his best not to fuck him senseless. He doesn’t understand why his hyung tries so hard to ignore him, though. There’s an unmistakable hardness on his palm, and Taemin grips a little tighter, hearing a sharp inhale.
“Taemin,” He looks at Minho from under heavy eyelids - just the way that sends things in his hyung straight to places Taemin isn’t allowed to explore. Well, not often. He doesn’t miss his hyung’s throat shifting. “Stop.”
“Why?” Minho bucks into his hand as it slips lower between the boy’s legs, hissing and gripping his wrist.
“Y-You…” Taemin nips Minho’s chest through his leather jacket, stepping closer and pushing up on the older boy’s crotch - a hand pulls on his hair roughly. Minho’s beginning to rest on his toes, eyes tightly shut. “You’re drunk.”
They are hidden in a desolate street’s darkness, barely a few minutes out of a club. Minho thinks Taemin is drunk.
Taemin’s going to lie.
The force of being flung against bricks rattles Taemin’s head, and his yelp gets muffled as Minho kisses him, full and unrestrained, a tongue sliding into his mouth. It’s hot and wet and skillful and he pulls on Minho’s jacket reflexively. He likes to rile Minho up, because the boy becomes violent and possessive and he likes to pick apart the self-restraint Minho forces himself to keep.
Over a few months, Taemin has come to terms with never being able to win against Minho in possibly anything but dancing. But he never stops trying. So Taemin shivers as fingers dance along his waistband, their lips bruised and swollen, Minho’s pupils dilated as fuck, and Taemin plays up his little innocent visage under Minho’s scrutiny, eyes travelling from his face to his neck, to his collarbones, and Taemin feels his hyung’s chest beginning to rise and fall heavier.
"Goddamn," Minho mutters and it just eggs Taemin on even more.
His stomach burns as he shoves his tongue against Minho’s. He won’t win but it’s fun to try. Fun to jab at Minho’s pride, because he knows that the older boy’s turned on as hell, something hard jabbing into his thigh, and Taemin knows all the right places to lick and kiss - light behind his ear, hard against his lips, lick under his jaw.
It’s strange how Minho refuses, as far as he can, to have sex with him. It’ strange how the boy can glide his hands up Taemin’s body, to rub Taemin’s nipples and cause Taemin to mewl into their kiss and not want to fuck him.
Minho kisses along his jaw, scalding, and it scatters Taemin’s thoughts as the thumbs continued. Taemin’s breaths are coming short when Minho reaches his throat, lips gentle and burning, and he nearly gasps at a hand cupping his groin - his nipples are pert and sensitive against his shirt.
“You don’t even know,” Minho growls into his ears and Taemin shivers at the hot breaths, clamping down on a sound at the back of his throat as Minho starts rubbing between his legs. “What you are doing.”
His pants are tugged off savagely and the cold night air chills his legs. A jolt rips through him as Minho mouths his erection through his boxers, already hard and throbbing, and his hands bury into black spikes. Suddenly, the boxers collect around his legs and his cock is twitching in front of Minho’s face.
“Y-you’re not going to…” Taemin’s breath hitches when Minho swallows him quickly, warm and hot, and his head tilts back, teeth clenched, trying to stop the sounds coming out from his throat.
They’ve always gone so far, but they’ve only fucked a few times. Taemin almost rips Minho’s hair as his cock reaches the back of his hyung’s throat. Minho likes to make him writhe, Taemin knows. Likes to graze his tongue on Taemin’s slit and cause his hips to jerk.
After long, Taemin knows he can’t last. Not with Minho hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head, leaving his fingers scratching the brick wall and panting. Not with Minho taking him deep and scraping teeth on his cock, making him squirm and trying to muffle his moans and curses - and fuck, Taemin almost comes at Minho looking up at him. It’s understood between them that Minho needs to keep his hands on Taemin’s hips, because when Minho retreats all the way and swallows Taemin whole again, he thrusts forward involuntarily.
“H-hyung, stop,” Taemin manages, close to climaxing at the sight of precum stretching from Minho’s mouth to the tip of his cock, trying to steady his breathing.
“I’m not going to fuck you, Taemin,” Minho says and Taemin nearly groans in frustration - they’re already here. He steps out of his pants, knees almost buckling and cock aching, and he tries not to jack. It’s not the first time this has happened and Taemin’s not having any of that tonight.
They are outside a fucking club’s back alley and Taemin’s going to be fucked right there tonight.
He puts two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them, enjoying the way Minho’s eyes widened. Taemin knows how agitated Minho gets when he preps himself - and he still does, the hand rubbing his groin through leather more proof than anything as Taemin breaches himself with a finger.
It’s uncomfortable and new, every time he does it, and Taemin hears a zipper being undone as he slides a second digit up himself, eyes shut at the sensation. He whimpers as he pushes deeper, legs becoming weak and vision turning hazy - like they were back on the dance floor. Taemin forces his eyes open as his fingers worked and the sight of Minho kneeling with his cock in hand, watching him intently, if anything, just makes Taemin really more desperate than he already is.
“Minho hyung,” Taemin tries to say, and comes out like a plea, breathless and helpless, because well, Taemin’s pretty fucking needy right now. His fingers prod something and he gasps, eyelids fluttering. Abruptly, hard brick collides with his back and his breath catches as fingers are forced deeper, electricity crawling down his legs, as his wrist pokes into Minho’s stomach.
Taemin’s heaving by then, held against the wall with Minho’s grip on his thighs, free hand clutching Minho’s collar weakly. Minho has this feral look on him, eyes so black and breathing deeper than normal and Taemin is thoroughly enjoying this through the haze in his head.
“You’re making this really hard,” Minho rumbles and Taemin pulls his fingers out, wet sounds making Minho’s grip tighten. “Fuck.”
There’s a wet stain where Taemin’s fingers play with Minho’s nipple through the shirt, and Minho bites his bottom lip, cock thick and throbbing on his entrance. Taemin tries to shift his hips, relishing the deep exhale Minho releases. Minho is breathing hard, eyebrows knitted together and Taemin knows he’s nearly winning. It’s hot to watch calm, rationale Minho slowly losing control in shreds.
“We’re already here,” Taemin says, pulling up on Minho’s neck and pressing a hot tongue into the boy’s ear. A tremor ripples through Minho and his hands slide up to Taemin’s hips.
Taemin’s pretty sure Minho doesn’t have anything left in him to refuse anymore - not after his tongue makes it to Minho’s ear. The older boy has many weaknesses and Taemin likes to capitalize on that. So it’s not a surprise Minho’s rocking his hips a little deeper into him, panting slightly into his neck.
“I guess you’re right,” Minho mumbles and Taemin doesn’t even get to anticipate before Minho pushes into him.
Pain splits through Taemin and his fingers curl around Minho’s jacket tightly, too fucking lost in pleasure and pain to even make a sound. He pants lightly as Minho’s dick enters, until he’s all the way in, and he thinks he’s seeing everything in a lighter shade - the exit sign, the illuminated trash bins.
“Fuck,” Taemin hears Minho whisper, and he thinks the same thing - this is way too much for him to handle. His nerves are on fire and the blood is draining from his head, and Minho’s panting below his ear is hot as fuck.
So his hands are losing strength and his legs are beginning to tense, and all Taemin can do is to move his mouth against Minho’s weakly, hot and messy, teeth knocking. The pain is subsiding as Minho licks and sucks and bites on his lips and Taemin’s clinging onto the older boy to keep from falling.
Then Minho starts thrusting up into him, and Taemin’s breaths become shaky, legs tightening around the older boy’s waist. Taemin would’ve found the noises he’s making embarrassing as Minho fucks him - but they are kissing and nibbling and panting into each other’s mouth, Taemin is cutting it dangerously close, feeling heat pool into his groin, his dripping cock smearing precum over his shirt.
The pleasure is edging him precariously close. Taemin tenses up, ears muted and mind hazy and white - he’s not going to come so early, not yet. And Minho pulls back to look at him, flushed and mouth slightly parted, and Taemin smiles a little because he sees the older boy searching for a confirmation, a sliver of worry underneath black lust. He’s really lucky to have Minho, caring, caring Minho, and Taemin begins to think about it.
But suddenly Minho crushes him against the wall and starts fucking him hard and fast. The bricks scrape the back of his neck when Minho thrusts into him forcefully. And Taemin’s cry hitches when Minho pounds into a bundle of nerves, making his body jerk and twitch on white fire. Taemin’s chin is on Minho’s head, clutching his collar for dear life and gasping lightly because there isn’t even time to get a moan out.
His hips hurt, dull where Minho’s fingers are digging, and Minho’s panting into his chest, huffs hot through his shirt and Taemin knows he’s going to have problems keeping calm the next time he hears Minho heaving deeply.
A hand wraps around his cock and starts pumping, roughly together with Minho’s thrusts, and Taemin is cutting it really fucking close, fingers tearing Minho’s hair out.
And as his breaths become shallower and shallower, on a particularly deep thrust, Taemin comes - so fucking hard he blanks out in a convulsion, hands balled into iron. He doesn’t stop trembling and his body is on overdrive, barely breathing and how the fuck is he supposed to recover with Minho still pounding into him?
Then a strangled cry comes from Minho, abruptly burying himself deep into Taemin, grip on his waist becoming harder and shaking underneath him, shuddering silently as he spills into Taemin, hips jerking erratically. And when Minho finally stops, he's panting hard. It takes awhile for Minho to lift his head, and a strange elation bubbles in Taemin at the gentleness found in his hyung’s eyes again, the corners of his eyes drooping tiredly.
Shivers run up his spine as Minho pulls out of him, and Minho almost drops him while lowering him back to the ground, arms trembling slightly pulling up his pants. Taemin feels light-headed and dreamy, resting backwards against the wall because he knows his knees are going to give way if he tries to stand upright. Hot liquid rolls down the inside of Taemin’s thigh as Minho kisses the side of his mouth, missing his lips in exhaustion. The older boy leans on him, chin resting on his shoulder and arms wrapping around his waist slackly.
“No more…” Minho’s words are slurring, voice a deep sleepy rumble. “Alcohol for you.”
So Taemin’s been a bad boy, lying like he did, pretending that he had been drunk. But the bruises on his thighs and hips should be punishment enough, and Taemin isn’t even going to get started on his chafed neck and sore between his legs.
He grins then, right into the exit sign of the bar, hugging Minho’s limp body, warm in the cold night. Honestly though, it had just been orange juice in Taemin’s cup a few hours ago.
Maybe he’ll tell Minho, maybe not.