Freestyle
Title: Freestyle
Rating: Hard R (will be tagged nc-17 to be safe)
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Summary: Jongin can’t freestyle dance. Sehun can.
Notes: i’m unoriginal
--
Jongin can’t freestyle dance.
If it’s not choreography, Jongin doesn’t know which way to move his lithe body, how to rock his hips, what to do with his hands. He can’t control his facial features and his feet can’t decide which way they want to go -- it’s a curse that he has tried, and failed, to get over for the past few years. It’s never really bothered him, though, because the way he executes choreography is like a science dedicated specifically for him.
When it does bother him, it leaves a nasty taste in his mouth.
That nasty taste comes with the diagnosis of Oh Sehun, how he can just rock his body along with any beat, flow naturally, smoothly. Sehun is a bit awkward-bodied, with slender hips and no real definition, arms that are fairly long and an ass that won’t quit, but he’s oblivious to anything that may or may not handicap him when he moves. When he dances, choreography or not, he’s got his own style. Something that makes his dance all his own. Whether it’s an extra flick of the wrist, a turn of his head, the parting of his lips -- when Oh Sehun dances, freestyle or choreography, he can feel it.
It’s not that Jongin doesn’t feel the music. He does. But when he hears measure rests and staccato dip notes, Sehun hears a half a second breath and a lick of his dry lips. When Jongin hears crescendos and decrescendos, Sehun hears loud and soft, fast and slow.
It’s an odd sense that Jongin hadn’t expected Sehun to have. But sure as shit, Sehun can focus on his face in the mirror, not watch the way his body moves, and still know where he’s going, where he is in relation to the other members. He’s concentrated but he’s aloof and Jongin has no idea how he does it. And it’s not like he can just ask, either, Jonin is the proclaimed main dancer of not only Exo-K but Exo as a whole and if he reveals his insecurities… It’s not like injuring his back, or working so hard and not drinking enough water he nearly passes out from dehydration. This is totally different. This is pure, unadulterated envy.
And yet, he can’t find it in him to be actually mad at Sehun.
Not when Sehun is freestyling to some music in the empty practice room, oblivious to Jongin’s presence in the doorway. Not when Sehun’s sneakers are skidding across the hardwood floor and he’s got black soles, scuff marks trailing in his wake and leaving evidence that he’ll get in trouble for later and be ordered to clean up. What’s more, is Jongin will volunteer to stay with him to get on all fours and run a rag up and down the pergo.
There’s one thing Jongin can be confident about, though, and that’s his facial expression. He teases Sehun quite a bit about being stony-faced, so concentrated the whole stage could catch on fire and he probably wouldn’t notice. Sehun usually just rolls his eyes in that typical blasé attitude and Jongin grins so huge his cheeks hurt.
Right now Sehun looks focused but tired. It’s their day off and Sehun has been antsy, anxious about their upcoming trip to America. Jongin has to admit, he’s pretty nervous too, especially since the other half of their band has already been -- but the fact of the matter is that it’s going to be all twelve of them, so he knows they’ll be ok. Sehun has been ready to crawl out of his skin this entire week, nerves about being in America, a place he’s always wanted to go, but he’s hidden it well from the other members. He hasn’t hid it well enough from Jongin, though. No one gives him enough credit for anything.
The song slows down and Sehun stops completely, chest heaving, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. The perspiration at this point coming from his head finally isn’t stained red, or pink, or blue or yellow -- Jongin is glad the stylists have given Sehun’s scalp a break. Taking the pause to make his presence known, Jongin takes a step into the practice room, and--
“God, I thought you were going to stand there forever.”
He pauses in his steps, arching his brows towards Sehun, who grabs a towel and drapes it over his shoulders, not even looking in Jongin’s direction.
“You’re being kinda creepy,” Sehun says as he bends over to pick up his water bottle.
Jongin shrugs and slides his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “I like watching you dance.”
“Creep,” Sehun affirms, finally letting his eyes skate over towards Jongin, a playful glint in them.
Jongin snorts a little and nods, moving towards the boombox that has Sehun’s iPod attached to it. Crouching down, he scrolls through the playlist Sehun currently has playing, and he chuckles.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were a fourteen year old white girl,” he says, standing up after deciding to leave it on whatever song was playing.
Sehun doesn’t even pretend to be offended as he caps his water bottle and tosses his back towards his bag, ruffling his sweat-dampened hair with the towel and tossing it as well before getting back into place. His gaze is back on his reflection in the mirror and Jongin sidles up to stand next to him, looking down at the floor, and he’s about to make a snarky comment about how he’ll rat out Sehun for scuffing everything up -- but the song changes and Sehun starts moving, not paying Jongin any mind.
Jongin stays still, but leans a bit away when Sehun moves too closely to him. He’s not watching the mirror, like Sehun, his eyes are on Sehun himself. Jongin is watching him just flow and move to the music without any pre-set moves in mind and he wonders… if his handicap is that he was groomed to be the main dancer. To execute the choreography perfectly and be able to be an example to the other members. To be the scapegoat, to put at the front when the other members have a harder time performing… There are lots of ulterior motives, in this business, but Jongin is starting to think that it should be Sehun showcased, not him. Sehun has such focus on concentration, his arms moving in tandem with his legs, fingers waving and wrists wriggling, chest pumping and hips swiveling.
Ok, maybe a nineteen year old white girl. Jongin doesn’t think many average guys are comfortable moving that way, but it doesn’t look ridiculous when Sehun is doing it… since his body is long in all the right places, curved in others. Jongin sucks his lower lip between his teeth and he’s not being subtle about how he’s looking at his best friend but Sehun is so fucking oblivious to everything when he dances, Jongin is actually surprised that Sehun even knew he was in the door. Then again, Sehun probably noticed, and then chose to ignore him. Typical.
When Sehun turns on his heel Jongin’s arm shoots out and his hand catches Sehun’s narrow waist, effectively stopping the maknae’s movements. Sehun has a bit of whiplash, and he’s out of breath, his brows knit in annoyance and lips pressed into a flat line.
“What,” he grunts.
“Teach me,” Jongin says, licking his lips and raising his dark eyes to Sehun’s.
“Teach you what,” Sehun replies. How dense.
And of course Jongin doesn’t want to flat out say “teach me how to freestyle” because he’s the main dancer. He’s the dancer, the one that everyone else goes to when they need to learn a specific part of the choreography. Jongin is not the one that asks questions, he’s the one that has answers.
So he just sort of gestures lamely towards Sehun’s body, which is draped with a tank top two sizes too big for him and sweatpants that look like they’d fall off if you blow on them wrong. Jongin himself is in a tshirt and sweats but Sehun has never seemed to care too much about how his clothes hang on his scrawny frame. Jongin wishes he’d care. Slob.
Sehun blinks slowly, glancing down at himself, then rakes his eyes over Jongin’s body, before lifting his gaze to meet the other’s.
“What?”
Jongin groans in frustration, “You-- you’re good at freestyling.” He feels his cheeks heating up but refuses to accept the fact he’s blushing.
Sehun, however, doesn’t make fun of Jongin. He just shrugs, looking a bit lost. “So? You’re good at dancing.”
“I’m good at choreography,” Jongin bites out, then clears his throat and straightens his posture. “If I’m not told what to do, I move like shit.”
At that, Sehun’s lips finally quirk into the faintest of smirks, “So if you’re not being bossed around you’re worthless, huh?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Jongin reaches out and lets his fist connect with Sehun’s shoulder, though the hit isn’t that powerful. Sehun’s shoulder moves maybe an inch but he’s otherwise unaffected. “Just help me.”
“Alright…” the other says it a bit testily, like he’s not sure where to start. Jongin doesn’t blame him. How do you teach the main dancer how to… dance? Sehun rubs the back of the neck and in their time spent talking the song is already changing and Jongin actually laughs out loud at the girl power song that starts blaring from the speakers. Sehun snaps, “Shut up and just follow my lead.”
That’s not really teaching Jongin how to freestyle, if he’s just going to follow what Sehun does, but he obeys. He asked, after all.
Sehun just starts with some easy bobbing, testing the tempo of the song, where the breaks are so he can keep his flow steady and even. Jongin watches Sehun in the mirror, this time, his placement to the left and slightly behind the other. He stays exactly half a beat behind because it doesn’t throw him off from the song too much, and it gives him time to commit the way Sehun moves to his mind, so he can execute the moves with precision.
The chorus hasn’t even started yet and Sehun huffs, stopping his dancing and reaching out to shove Jongin, “I said follow my lead, not dance exactly like me.”
Jongin stumbles back a step, the music sailing into the chorus, ignored. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“Dance!” Sehun is exasperated and he doesn’t get exasperated over much. He also looks irritated. “Make it your own, without any greasy hip thrusts or stupid smirks or whatever it is you do all the time. Just dance. Add your own thing that makes the dance yours.”
When Sehun lays it out like that, Jongin is a little startled to know that Sehun is aware of how he dances, versus how Jongin dances. It’s a shocking thing to learn and it has Jongin ready to tuck his tail between his legs but instead he straightens and turns back towards the mirror.
“Ok.”
Sehun eyes him warily, before he turns back to the mirror and lets out a breath, falling back into step with the beat. Jongin waits this time, just spends a second watching him, and then he follows suit. His neck loosens, his jaw relaxes, and his head starts swiveling separate yet fluid with his body. His eyes hood and he’s watching Sehun still, relaxing into the way the other is moving. His arms liquify and he stumbles a few times without the pre-meditated moves, but they’re easy to correct with the rest of his body picking up the slack. It’s… a rush. He’s feeling dance like he’s discovering it for the first time, and this time the dance feels like it’s his -- he’s not just dancing, executing an action. He’s got possession, ownership, it flows through his body and he finds himself smiling, starting to move separately from Sehun, and now that he has music within him, now that he is controlling the dance and the dance isn’t controlling him, he slides up behind Sehun and lets his hands slide over the other’s waist. Sehun’s feet barely falter and he just leans back into Jongin, back-to-chest, dropping his head back on Jongin’s shoulder as he lets out a soft noise.
They rock together, feet and hips moving in rhythm with each other and Jongin turns his head, his mouth sliding over the shell of Sehun’s ear. A little noise bubbles up in the back of the blond’s throat and Jongin chuckles low enough to induce a shiver.
“You,” Sehun’s voice is breathy as Jongin guides his ass to swivel back against his groin, “are taking advantage of the lesson.”
“Yeah,” Jongin easily agrees, his hand slipping down Sehun’s front to press his palm over the bulge in Sehun’s too-big sweatpants. Sehun gasps and swats his hand away, leveraging himself better so he can grind back properly against the other dancer; Jongin’s fingers curl into Sehun’s hip bones tight enough to leave faint marks, his thumbs catching the material of Sehun’s sweats to press wrinkle folds into his skin and mark him that way. Less permanent, with the same intent.
Being the young hormonal boys that they are, it doesn’t take long for them to totally scrap the whole dancing idea and just start frotting against each other. The music has changed to some song that Jongin hates but Sehun insists on playing at least once a day but Jongin can’t be bothered because Sehun is turning around and backing himself up, dragging Jongin along with him until his back connects to the mirror, blanketing his body with Jongin’s. Their mouths collide and there’s no time and this definitely isn’t the place for anything extensive so Jongin continues to rock his hips against Sehun’s barely in time with the beat.
Music for Jongin has always been muscle memory. He’s never felt it deep in his bones, never felt it actually taking ahold of him and guiding him. He’s relied on other people giving him outlines and letting him fill in the empty spaces but now he feels totally in control -- he’s the creator, he’s the executor.
Sehun’s head is tipped back against the mirror and something in Jongin snaps because he’s gripping Sehun’s hips and jerking him away from the mirror, shoving him down onto the floor. Sehun’s knees and elbows connect and he grunts in annoyance but Jongin is behind him immediately, pushing on the center of his back to get his chest to press against the floor. He casts a glance in the mirror -- Sehun is so flexible it’s stupid -- before he ruts his groin up against the perfect curve of Sehun’s ass. Little mewls and pants leave Sehun’s mouth and his nails claw uselessly at the floor and Jongin just continues to dry hump him, one hand pressed into Sehun’s back, the other reaching around to press and rub against Sehun’s clothed arousal.
“Jongin,” Sehun’s torso twists a little and he looks a lot like a porn star, reaching behind himself to slap his own ass, a whine leaving his lips, “fuck me, please--”
“No,” is Jongin’s immediately reply as he swats Sehun’s hand away. Spanking him won’t cause much effect, not when they’re both fully dressed, but he brings his hand down on the outside of Sehun’s thigh anyway.
“But--”
“We don’t have time, Sehun,” Jongin’s voice is a strained grunt, laced with arousal and frustration as he grinds against the other. It’s not enough, his sweatpants are too dry and the friction is too much and he’d much rather watch Sehun dance under the symphony that is Jongin’s fingers stringing him taut as a violin but there are times and places for that and it’s most definitely not three-eighteen p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon in an empty practice room.
“Do something,” is the command that falls from Sehun’s parted lips, propping up on his elbows to rock back violently against Jongin’s grinding frame.
Jongin racks his mind for something, anything to do that won’t cause a mess or leave evidence or take time -- nothing really comes to mind that involves leaving their clothes on so instead he wraps his arms around Sehun’s slender waist and hauls him upwards. Sehun scrabbles for a second, knees almost slipping out from under him and then his back is flush against Jongin’s chest again, knees spreading wide, feet tucked between Jongin’s own. One of Jongin’s hands moves to Sehun’s throat, tipping his head back, causing his spine to arch probably way more than it’s used to -- arcing away from Jongin’s body, the only contact between them now Sehun’s shoulder blades to his chest and his ass to his front.
“You don’t get to boss me around,” but Jongin is smiling as he says it, thrusting forward, the hard outline of his cock sliding between Sehun’s clothed cheeks, even bumping against the small of his back from this angle. Sehun just whines and squirms but Jongin’s fingers dig into his windpipe and he stops trying to get out of the position, allowing Jongin to press into him from all angles. “Good…” Jongin breathes, hot air washing down the expanse of Sehun’s neck. “Could you cum like this?”
“Fuck no,” Sehun huffs, one of his arms reaching up so his fingers can tangle in Jongin’s grey locks, giving them a sharp tug.
“That’s too bad,” Jongin ruts hard against Sehun’s ass and just imagining fucking him like this, Sehun all taut and pretty and arched like a finely sculpted piece of art and submissive to Jongin’s will already has his balls tensing. “Because I can.”
Sehun can’t even form a response because Jongin is shoving his fingers past his parted lips and Sehun gags on them, throat convulsing and clenching with his choke and that noise is all it takes for Jongin to come undone, staining the instead of his sweats and feeling the slickness stick to the cotton and start to chafe. He rides through his orgasm with short, jerky motions of his hips and then he pulls back, letting go of Sehun -- Sehun collapses completely without support, falling face-first to the floor and barely able to catch himself as he sprawls out on his stomach and Jongin stands up on shaky legs, chuckling and tugging his shirt away from his body to fan himself a bit.
“See you at the dorm,” he says, turning around and grabbing a towel to mop his face with as he leaves the practice room.
He hears Sehun’s scream of frustration three doors down and smirks to himself.
Yeah… so his intent wasn’t really Sehun teaching him how to freestyle but he’s gained something from this lesson.
That something being a guaranteed hardcore fuck.
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Rating: Hard R (will be tagged nc-17 to be safe)
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Summary: Jongin can’t freestyle dance. Sehun can.
Notes: i’m unoriginal
--
Jongin can’t freestyle dance.
If it’s not choreography, Jongin doesn’t know which way to move his lithe body, how to rock his hips, what to do with his hands. He can’t control his facial features and his feet can’t decide which way they want to go -- it’s a curse that he has tried, and failed, to get over for the past few years. It’s never really bothered him, though, because the way he executes choreography is like a science dedicated specifically for him.
When it does bother him, it leaves a nasty taste in his mouth.
That nasty taste comes with the diagnosis of Oh Sehun, how he can just rock his body along with any beat, flow naturally, smoothly. Sehun is a bit awkward-bodied, with slender hips and no real definition, arms that are fairly long and an ass that won’t quit, but he’s oblivious to anything that may or may not handicap him when he moves. When he dances, choreography or not, he’s got his own style. Something that makes his dance all his own. Whether it’s an extra flick of the wrist, a turn of his head, the parting of his lips -- when Oh Sehun dances, freestyle or choreography, he can feel it.
It’s not that Jongin doesn’t feel the music. He does. But when he hears measure rests and staccato dip notes, Sehun hears a half a second breath and a lick of his dry lips. When Jongin hears crescendos and decrescendos, Sehun hears loud and soft, fast and slow.
It’s an odd sense that Jongin hadn’t expected Sehun to have. But sure as shit, Sehun can focus on his face in the mirror, not watch the way his body moves, and still know where he’s going, where he is in relation to the other members. He’s concentrated but he’s aloof and Jongin has no idea how he does it. And it’s not like he can just ask, either, Jonin is the proclaimed main dancer of not only Exo-K but Exo as a whole and if he reveals his insecurities… It’s not like injuring his back, or working so hard and not drinking enough water he nearly passes out from dehydration. This is totally different. This is pure, unadulterated envy.
And yet, he can’t find it in him to be actually mad at Sehun.
Not when Sehun is freestyling to some music in the empty practice room, oblivious to Jongin’s presence in the doorway. Not when Sehun’s sneakers are skidding across the hardwood floor and he’s got black soles, scuff marks trailing in his wake and leaving evidence that he’ll get in trouble for later and be ordered to clean up. What’s more, is Jongin will volunteer to stay with him to get on all fours and run a rag up and down the pergo.
There’s one thing Jongin can be confident about, though, and that’s his facial expression. He teases Sehun quite a bit about being stony-faced, so concentrated the whole stage could catch on fire and he probably wouldn’t notice. Sehun usually just rolls his eyes in that typical blasé attitude and Jongin grins so huge his cheeks hurt.
Right now Sehun looks focused but tired. It’s their day off and Sehun has been antsy, anxious about their upcoming trip to America. Jongin has to admit, he’s pretty nervous too, especially since the other half of their band has already been -- but the fact of the matter is that it’s going to be all twelve of them, so he knows they’ll be ok. Sehun has been ready to crawl out of his skin this entire week, nerves about being in America, a place he’s always wanted to go, but he’s hidden it well from the other members. He hasn’t hid it well enough from Jongin, though. No one gives him enough credit for anything.
The song slows down and Sehun stops completely, chest heaving, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. The perspiration at this point coming from his head finally isn’t stained red, or pink, or blue or yellow -- Jongin is glad the stylists have given Sehun’s scalp a break. Taking the pause to make his presence known, Jongin takes a step into the practice room, and--
“God, I thought you were going to stand there forever.”
He pauses in his steps, arching his brows towards Sehun, who grabs a towel and drapes it over his shoulders, not even looking in Jongin’s direction.
“You’re being kinda creepy,” Sehun says as he bends over to pick up his water bottle.
Jongin shrugs and slides his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “I like watching you dance.”
“Creep,” Sehun affirms, finally letting his eyes skate over towards Jongin, a playful glint in them.
Jongin snorts a little and nods, moving towards the boombox that has Sehun’s iPod attached to it. Crouching down, he scrolls through the playlist Sehun currently has playing, and he chuckles.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were a fourteen year old white girl,” he says, standing up after deciding to leave it on whatever song was playing.
Sehun doesn’t even pretend to be offended as he caps his water bottle and tosses his back towards his bag, ruffling his sweat-dampened hair with the towel and tossing it as well before getting back into place. His gaze is back on his reflection in the mirror and Jongin sidles up to stand next to him, looking down at the floor, and he’s about to make a snarky comment about how he’ll rat out Sehun for scuffing everything up -- but the song changes and Sehun starts moving, not paying Jongin any mind.
Jongin stays still, but leans a bit away when Sehun moves too closely to him. He’s not watching the mirror, like Sehun, his eyes are on Sehun himself. Jongin is watching him just flow and move to the music without any pre-set moves in mind and he wonders… if his handicap is that he was groomed to be the main dancer. To execute the choreography perfectly and be able to be an example to the other members. To be the scapegoat, to put at the front when the other members have a harder time performing… There are lots of ulterior motives, in this business, but Jongin is starting to think that it should be Sehun showcased, not him. Sehun has such focus on concentration, his arms moving in tandem with his legs, fingers waving and wrists wriggling, chest pumping and hips swiveling.
Ok, maybe a nineteen year old white girl. Jongin doesn’t think many average guys are comfortable moving that way, but it doesn’t look ridiculous when Sehun is doing it… since his body is long in all the right places, curved in others. Jongin sucks his lower lip between his teeth and he’s not being subtle about how he’s looking at his best friend but Sehun is so fucking oblivious to everything when he dances, Jongin is actually surprised that Sehun even knew he was in the door. Then again, Sehun probably noticed, and then chose to ignore him. Typical.
When Sehun turns on his heel Jongin’s arm shoots out and his hand catches Sehun’s narrow waist, effectively stopping the maknae’s movements. Sehun has a bit of whiplash, and he’s out of breath, his brows knit in annoyance and lips pressed into a flat line.
“What,” he grunts.
“Teach me,” Jongin says, licking his lips and raising his dark eyes to Sehun’s.
“Teach you what,” Sehun replies. How dense.
And of course Jongin doesn’t want to flat out say “teach me how to freestyle” because he’s the main dancer. He’s the dancer, the one that everyone else goes to when they need to learn a specific part of the choreography. Jongin is not the one that asks questions, he’s the one that has answers.
So he just sort of gestures lamely towards Sehun’s body, which is draped with a tank top two sizes too big for him and sweatpants that look like they’d fall off if you blow on them wrong. Jongin himself is in a tshirt and sweats but Sehun has never seemed to care too much about how his clothes hang on his scrawny frame. Jongin wishes he’d care. Slob.
Sehun blinks slowly, glancing down at himself, then rakes his eyes over Jongin’s body, before lifting his gaze to meet the other’s.
“What?”
Jongin groans in frustration, “You-- you’re good at freestyling.” He feels his cheeks heating up but refuses to accept the fact he’s blushing.
Sehun, however, doesn’t make fun of Jongin. He just shrugs, looking a bit lost. “So? You’re good at dancing.”
“I’m good at choreography,” Jongin bites out, then clears his throat and straightens his posture. “If I’m not told what to do, I move like shit.”
At that, Sehun’s lips finally quirk into the faintest of smirks, “So if you’re not being bossed around you’re worthless, huh?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Jongin reaches out and lets his fist connect with Sehun’s shoulder, though the hit isn’t that powerful. Sehun’s shoulder moves maybe an inch but he’s otherwise unaffected. “Just help me.”
“Alright…” the other says it a bit testily, like he’s not sure where to start. Jongin doesn’t blame him. How do you teach the main dancer how to… dance? Sehun rubs the back of the neck and in their time spent talking the song is already changing and Jongin actually laughs out loud at the girl power song that starts blaring from the speakers. Sehun snaps, “Shut up and just follow my lead.”
That’s not really teaching Jongin how to freestyle, if he’s just going to follow what Sehun does, but he obeys. He asked, after all.
Sehun just starts with some easy bobbing, testing the tempo of the song, where the breaks are so he can keep his flow steady and even. Jongin watches Sehun in the mirror, this time, his placement to the left and slightly behind the other. He stays exactly half a beat behind because it doesn’t throw him off from the song too much, and it gives him time to commit the way Sehun moves to his mind, so he can execute the moves with precision.
The chorus hasn’t even started yet and Sehun huffs, stopping his dancing and reaching out to shove Jongin, “I said follow my lead, not dance exactly like me.”
Jongin stumbles back a step, the music sailing into the chorus, ignored. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“Dance!” Sehun is exasperated and he doesn’t get exasperated over much. He also looks irritated. “Make it your own, without any greasy hip thrusts or stupid smirks or whatever it is you do all the time. Just dance. Add your own thing that makes the dance yours.”
When Sehun lays it out like that, Jongin is a little startled to know that Sehun is aware of how he dances, versus how Jongin dances. It’s a shocking thing to learn and it has Jongin ready to tuck his tail between his legs but instead he straightens and turns back towards the mirror.
“Ok.”
Sehun eyes him warily, before he turns back to the mirror and lets out a breath, falling back into step with the beat. Jongin waits this time, just spends a second watching him, and then he follows suit. His neck loosens, his jaw relaxes, and his head starts swiveling separate yet fluid with his body. His eyes hood and he’s watching Sehun still, relaxing into the way the other is moving. His arms liquify and he stumbles a few times without the pre-meditated moves, but they’re easy to correct with the rest of his body picking up the slack. It’s… a rush. He’s feeling dance like he’s discovering it for the first time, and this time the dance feels like it’s his -- he’s not just dancing, executing an action. He’s got possession, ownership, it flows through his body and he finds himself smiling, starting to move separately from Sehun, and now that he has music within him, now that he is controlling the dance and the dance isn’t controlling him, he slides up behind Sehun and lets his hands slide over the other’s waist. Sehun’s feet barely falter and he just leans back into Jongin, back-to-chest, dropping his head back on Jongin’s shoulder as he lets out a soft noise.
They rock together, feet and hips moving in rhythm with each other and Jongin turns his head, his mouth sliding over the shell of Sehun’s ear. A little noise bubbles up in the back of the blond’s throat and Jongin chuckles low enough to induce a shiver.
“You,” Sehun’s voice is breathy as Jongin guides his ass to swivel back against his groin, “are taking advantage of the lesson.”
“Yeah,” Jongin easily agrees, his hand slipping down Sehun’s front to press his palm over the bulge in Sehun’s too-big sweatpants. Sehun gasps and swats his hand away, leveraging himself better so he can grind back properly against the other dancer; Jongin’s fingers curl into Sehun’s hip bones tight enough to leave faint marks, his thumbs catching the material of Sehun’s sweats to press wrinkle folds into his skin and mark him that way. Less permanent, with the same intent.
Being the young hormonal boys that they are, it doesn’t take long for them to totally scrap the whole dancing idea and just start frotting against each other. The music has changed to some song that Jongin hates but Sehun insists on playing at least once a day but Jongin can’t be bothered because Sehun is turning around and backing himself up, dragging Jongin along with him until his back connects to the mirror, blanketing his body with Jongin’s. Their mouths collide and there’s no time and this definitely isn’t the place for anything extensive so Jongin continues to rock his hips against Sehun’s barely in time with the beat.
Music for Jongin has always been muscle memory. He’s never felt it deep in his bones, never felt it actually taking ahold of him and guiding him. He’s relied on other people giving him outlines and letting him fill in the empty spaces but now he feels totally in control -- he’s the creator, he’s the executor.
Sehun’s head is tipped back against the mirror and something in Jongin snaps because he’s gripping Sehun’s hips and jerking him away from the mirror, shoving him down onto the floor. Sehun’s knees and elbows connect and he grunts in annoyance but Jongin is behind him immediately, pushing on the center of his back to get his chest to press against the floor. He casts a glance in the mirror -- Sehun is so flexible it’s stupid -- before he ruts his groin up against the perfect curve of Sehun’s ass. Little mewls and pants leave Sehun’s mouth and his nails claw uselessly at the floor and Jongin just continues to dry hump him, one hand pressed into Sehun’s back, the other reaching around to press and rub against Sehun’s clothed arousal.
“Jongin,” Sehun’s torso twists a little and he looks a lot like a porn star, reaching behind himself to slap his own ass, a whine leaving his lips, “fuck me, please--”
“No,” is Jongin’s immediately reply as he swats Sehun’s hand away. Spanking him won’t cause much effect, not when they’re both fully dressed, but he brings his hand down on the outside of Sehun’s thigh anyway.
“But--”
“We don’t have time, Sehun,” Jongin’s voice is a strained grunt, laced with arousal and frustration as he grinds against the other. It’s not enough, his sweatpants are too dry and the friction is too much and he’d much rather watch Sehun dance under the symphony that is Jongin’s fingers stringing him taut as a violin but there are times and places for that and it’s most definitely not three-eighteen p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon in an empty practice room.
“Do something,” is the command that falls from Sehun’s parted lips, propping up on his elbows to rock back violently against Jongin’s grinding frame.
Jongin racks his mind for something, anything to do that won’t cause a mess or leave evidence or take time -- nothing really comes to mind that involves leaving their clothes on so instead he wraps his arms around Sehun’s slender waist and hauls him upwards. Sehun scrabbles for a second, knees almost slipping out from under him and then his back is flush against Jongin’s chest again, knees spreading wide, feet tucked between Jongin’s own. One of Jongin’s hands moves to Sehun’s throat, tipping his head back, causing his spine to arch probably way more than it’s used to -- arcing away from Jongin’s body, the only contact between them now Sehun’s shoulder blades to his chest and his ass to his front.
“You don’t get to boss me around,” but Jongin is smiling as he says it, thrusting forward, the hard outline of his cock sliding between Sehun’s clothed cheeks, even bumping against the small of his back from this angle. Sehun just whines and squirms but Jongin’s fingers dig into his windpipe and he stops trying to get out of the position, allowing Jongin to press into him from all angles. “Good…” Jongin breathes, hot air washing down the expanse of Sehun’s neck. “Could you cum like this?”
“Fuck no,” Sehun huffs, one of his arms reaching up so his fingers can tangle in Jongin’s grey locks, giving them a sharp tug.
“That’s too bad,” Jongin ruts hard against Sehun’s ass and just imagining fucking him like this, Sehun all taut and pretty and arched like a finely sculpted piece of art and submissive to Jongin’s will already has his balls tensing. “Because I can.”
Sehun can’t even form a response because Jongin is shoving his fingers past his parted lips and Sehun gags on them, throat convulsing and clenching with his choke and that noise is all it takes for Jongin to come undone, staining the instead of his sweats and feeling the slickness stick to the cotton and start to chafe. He rides through his orgasm with short, jerky motions of his hips and then he pulls back, letting go of Sehun -- Sehun collapses completely without support, falling face-first to the floor and barely able to catch himself as he sprawls out on his stomach and Jongin stands up on shaky legs, chuckling and tugging his shirt away from his body to fan himself a bit.
“See you at the dorm,” he says, turning around and grabbing a towel to mop his face with as he leaves the practice room.
He hears Sehun’s scream of frustration three doors down and smirks to himself.
Yeah… so his intent wasn’t really Sehun teaching him how to freestyle but he’s gained something from this lesson.
That something being a guaranteed hardcore fuck.
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