Wagers in Tight Spaces
Title: Wagers in Tight Spaces
Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They don't usually ride the train and today it's crowded. Wufan notices. Yixing... doesn't.
Notes: For the beautiful fanxing shippers on tlist :) xingstars, baekhyuns, and ieeteuk!
Notes v2.0: hi where have i been hmmm also don't point out wrong facts ok this is a work of ficTION ((in my mind kris hails from canada and comes from no other land))
Based on this picture!
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It's not often they have to take the train for anything. It's less often that the train is so fucking crowded (but then again, they are in Asia, so it's not like that's really a valid statement but Wufan is Canadian so maybe it is). Wufan and Yixing are standing closer than necessary, a little bit so they can distance themselves from fans, a lot because Yixing is showing Wufan some cute comments left on their Weibo.
With every tilt and turn of the train Yixing's chest brushes against Wufan's arm, the low dip of his shirt rustling and exposing more of his creamy skin. It's hard for Wufan to focus on the idle comments Yixing is making when his eyes drift to the younger boy's collarbones; the train makes a particularly sharp left and Wufan tightens his grip on the bar he's holding, bracing himself as Yixing falls into him.
"Ah," Yixing lets out a soft laugh. "Rough ride today."
Wufan's throat goes dry as his high-wired mind interprets the passing comment helpfully as "I want to ride you rough today".
Of course that's not what Yixing said, and it's definitely not what he meant, but Wufan presses closer to the dancer anyhow. Yixing doesn't seem to notice or care because his phone is still in his hand and he's still occupied with their Weibo.
Another jolt, and Wufan casually slides his arm around Yixing's lower back to steady him. Yixing uses him as support, his low shirt collar catching on one of Wufan's shirt buttons; Yixing's shirt stretches out and he reaches up a pretty hand with an exasperated chuckle.
"These types of shirts are nice, but trouble," he says as he uses his hand to cover his chest modestly.
Wufan agrees -- those shirts are trouble. A tease. Should be ripped off with Wufan's teeth. But Wufan nods in silent agreement instead, forcing his eyes to go to Yixing's phone.
"Do you want to eat me out when we get home?" Yixing asks idly, scrolling through EXO-K's fansite.
"Huh," Wufan replies intelligently.
"Do you want to eat out? Or should I cook something?" Yixing doesn't sound at all impatient, almost like he knew Wufan was spacing out.
But... is Wufan's mind playing tricks on him? He's not so horny to start imagining things like that being said.
"We can eat out, you're probably tired," Wufan says, eyes trailing to the hand that rests conservatively over Yixing's chest. Yixing's hands are small and dainty, well-kept but not overly so. Wufan knows what it's like to have those fingers in his hair, raking down his back, wrapped around his--
The train rattles and Yixing is pushed even closer, a breathy and slightly frustrated 'fuck me' leaving his lips. Wufan knows it's not directed at him, it's not a request, it's directed at their unfortunate mode of transportation yet it still makes his skin burn because Yixing has said those words so many times in varying degrees of need.
"Gege," Yixing presses purposefully closer to Wufan. Wufan's fingers press into the small of Yixing's back in response. He holds up his phone, pointing at a message on the fanboard written to him in English.
Wufan tries really hard to concentrate on reading the message to himself before he translates it. Keyword: tries. With Yixing so close every bump of the ride forces Wufan's knee between the other's thighs, and he's probably imagining it, but it feels as though Yixing is subtly grinding against him.
"What's it say?" Yixing asks, and his breath washes over Wufan's wrist.
"I-" Wufan's brain shuts down. "I can't English right now, sorry."
Yixing blinks at Wufan and Wufan thunks his forehead against the cool bar he's holding onto. He passes the phone back to Yixing, who has an amused smile on his lips, and grumbles as he tries to absorb the coolness of the metal.
"Thanks anyway, I'll ask later after we fuck."
Wufan's grip slides down the pole a little and he whimpers. He glances at Yixing's phone when the other starts tapping on the screen, and sees the text Yixing is typing.
To: Chengzi
Msg: I win. Do the dishes.
He hears Jongdae whine from the other end of the train.
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