![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
fic advent: day two
for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leadernim ♥
kris/suho
nc-17, 1.6k words
au. "Kris/Suho. Manager Suho takes care of his idol Wu Fan very well."
leadernim ♥kris/suho
nc-17, 1.6k words
au. "Kris/Suho. Manager Suho takes care of his idol Wu Fan very well."
“If I never have to host another show,” Yifan says, rubbing delicately at the hinges of his jaw and grimacing. “I will die happy.” In his defense, it has been an especially long day. The company has insisted on increasing Yifan's dance training, in some sad, misguided attempt to finally turn him into something approximating a dancer, and he'd had a radio show in the morning before coming to record tonight's show. Yifan is a professional, though, and he hadn't flagged for a second while in front of the camera. Joonmyun is proud of him.
“I'm sure,” he agrees half-heartedly. He does one last quick check, assures himself that he's gotten everything, and then glances over at Yifan. “Come on,” he says, and he tugs gently at Yifan's shoulder. “One more time, then you've got the rest of the night to yourself.”
Yifan makes a little click with his tongue, and for a second, Joonmyun can see the exhaustion written in every line of his face and the slump of his shoulders. Yifan's last comeback had been a bit rough, so this time there was far more riding on his performance. Yifan is not a natural dancer, or even singer for that matter, but he does have an easy charm and does so well on the variety circuit that things even out. It doesn't hurt that he never gives up, either.
Joonmyun lets his fingers skate across Yifan's shoulder to curl lightly around the back of his neck. Yifan looks up sharply at the gentle press of Joonmyun's fingertips, but he doesn't say a thing. “You've been so good,” he says teasingly, and he watches the way that Yifan's throat works, the sudden dark intensity of his eyes. His hand drops but Yifan's gaze is still fixed on him. There is a certain amount of privacy in the room, but it's still not enough. “Maybe I can figure out a reward for you?”
Yifan gets up so fast that Joonmyun has to cover his grin with his hand. “We should go,” he says decisively, throwing on his jacket and picking up his bag. “Shouldn't we?”
Although he's sorely tempted to poke a little fun at Yifan for that, his day has been just as long, and the sooner they get home the better. Another quick check to assure himself that he's got everything, and then Joonmyun is nodding. “Let's go.”
He leads Yifan out through the crush of fans. Yifan is as gracious as ever, pausing to smile directly at the cameras, but he doesn't waste any time. When they get to the car, Yifan settles down in his seat with his neck pillow, purposefully avoiding Joonmyun's eyes in the mirror. That's okay, Joonmyun has to focus on driving anyway.
Because he's a little bit sadistic, Joonmyun takes his time when they get home, taking off his shoes, going over a bit of paperwork, double-checking tomorrow's schedule. He gets caught up in it all, and he doesn't realize until Yifan is sticking his head around the doorframe. “Should we eat?” he asks carefully, and Joonmyun laughs.
“Sorry, got a little caught up,” he says, and Yifan nods. His casual manner is betrayed by the way his eyes fix on Joonmyun's and the way his tongue flashes out to lick his lips, and Joonmyun smiles. His acting is getting better. A year ago, he would never have been able to hide it this well. Joonmyun feels another surge of pride in Yifan, in how he's grown over the years. “Maybe something else first?”
The corners of Yifan's mouth curl up. “Please,” he says, and Joonmyun snorts. They're the only two in the dorm, but Joonmyun still tugs Yifan forward into his room and closes the door behind them. Yifan has changed, his stiff suit swapped for an old shirt and sweats, which Joonmyun much prefers. He won't have to get these pressed after they're done, and it's easier access.
He knows he could rile Yifan up a bit, tease him for being so eager, but with his makeup off, Joonmyun can see the deep circles under his eyes, and he doesn't have the heart to make him work for it. At least, not tonight.
He grabs a handful of Yifan's shirt and pulls him close, one hand pressed to the back of Yifan's neck. He likes the way that Yifan sighs into his mouth, his big hands curling around Joonmyun's hips. There's a lazy urgency to the way they kiss, the firm way that Yifan licks his way into Joonmyun's mouth. It's been a while, Joonmyun realizes. Yifan needs this and Joonmyun can provide it.
Joonmyun pushes his hand down between them, working his palm against the front of Yifan's sweats, and tired or not, he can feel his cock harden. The little noise Yifan makes deep in the back of his throat sends a sharp thrill down Joonmyun's spine, and he smiles against Yifan's lips.
He likes Yifan when he's tired like this. His guard is down, and he lets his hips arch up into Joonmyun's touch. This Yifan doesn't worry so much about appearing in control. He lets Joonmyun tug his sweats down and then push him back until his legs hit the bed and he sits down abruptly, looking almost surprised.
Joonmyun is still laughing softly when he drops to his knees and takes the tip of Yifan's half-hard cock into his mouth. He's good at this now, he's always been good at looking after Yifan. Yifan may be impatient, but Joonmyun never is. He takes his time, twisting his hand around the base of Yifan's cock as slowly as he works his lips and tongue against the head, and Yifan groans. “Joonmyun,” he says, but there's only the barest hint of pleading in his voice right now, so Joonmyun ignores him.
One of Yifan's big hands comes up to cradle the back of Joonmyun's head, but he knows better than to apply pressure. Joonmyun takes it as encouragement and he takes Yifan in deeper, sliding his fingertips up Yifan's belly, featherlight.
Yifan is never vocal, but when Joonmyun presses his tongue up, hard, just under the head of Yifan's cock, he's rewarded with a hiss. When he follows it up by taking Yifan in as far as he can, Yifan lets out a string of what Joonmyun is pretty certain is something filthy in Mandarin. Just this, just this ability to take Yifan apart has Joonmyun hard as hell, pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants.
He hums, pleased, and Yifan's fingers tighten in his hair. “Joonmyun,” he gasps. His hips jerk up into Joonmyun's mouth and Joonmyun presses him down, his eyes trained on Yifan's face.
He loves Yifan like this, his soft, just-washed hair in his eyes, a flush creeping up his throat, his hand opening and closing on the bedspread next to him. “Joonmyun,” he says again. “Please, please, fuck, please.” And there is the pleading he's been waiting for. Joonmyun swallows him down and Yifan almost sobs, falling back on his elbow as he thrusts up into Joonmyun's mouth. Joonmyun closes his eyes and lets him, lets Yifan fuck his mouth until he's crying out and coming, his fingers pulling hard at Joonmyun's hair.
.
Joonmyun swallows it down, only pulling off when Yifan collapses shakily on the bed. He's so hard now, and he wipes his hand across the back of his mouth before he pops the button on his jeans and pulls out his cock.
“Oh,” Yifan says, straightening, and he sounds a little wrecked. “I can – ”
Shaking his head, Joonmyun catches Yifan's hand. “No, I just...” It won't take him long, it's been a while since he had a chance to do this and he's got help in the form of Yifan, looking thoroughly debauched. He guides Yifan's hand to his head again, and it takes a second but Yifan gets it, he remembers. He slides his fingers into Joonmyun's hair and pulls, lightly at first, and then harder.
Joonmyun lets out a moan, his hand moving faster. He can feel it building and he's startled when Yifan bends to kiss him. The combination of Yifan's insistent lips and hand are too much, and it's a matter of minutes before Joonmyun shouts into Yifan's mouth, spilling over his hand.
Soothing a hand across the back of Joonmyun's head, Yifan smiles. “You know,” he says, passing over the tissues even as Joonmyun's reaching for them. “I can deal with the tough days if they're all going to end like this.”
Joonmyun rolls his eyes. “You would,” he says dryly, carefully cleaning himself up. He moves to button up his jeans but Yifan stops him, tugging them down and then dragging Joonmyun onto the bed and under the covers.
“Relax,” Yifan tells him, and Joonmyun can think of a half dozen things he should probably be doing. “Night off, remember?” Somehow, Joonmyun's responsibility abandons him and he finds himself curled up against Yifan's chest, listening to his heartbeat and his complaints about his co-hosts of the day. It's an odd sort of lullaby, but it works.
“I'm sure,” he agrees half-heartedly. He does one last quick check, assures himself that he's gotten everything, and then glances over at Yifan. “Come on,” he says, and he tugs gently at Yifan's shoulder. “One more time, then you've got the rest of the night to yourself.”
Yifan makes a little click with his tongue, and for a second, Joonmyun can see the exhaustion written in every line of his face and the slump of his shoulders. Yifan's last comeback had been a bit rough, so this time there was far more riding on his performance. Yifan is not a natural dancer, or even singer for that matter, but he does have an easy charm and does so well on the variety circuit that things even out. It doesn't hurt that he never gives up, either.
Joonmyun lets his fingers skate across Yifan's shoulder to curl lightly around the back of his neck. Yifan looks up sharply at the gentle press of Joonmyun's fingertips, but he doesn't say a thing. “You've been so good,” he says teasingly, and he watches the way that Yifan's throat works, the sudden dark intensity of his eyes. His hand drops but Yifan's gaze is still fixed on him. There is a certain amount of privacy in the room, but it's still not enough. “Maybe I can figure out a reward for you?”
Yifan gets up so fast that Joonmyun has to cover his grin with his hand. “We should go,” he says decisively, throwing on his jacket and picking up his bag. “Shouldn't we?”
Although he's sorely tempted to poke a little fun at Yifan for that, his day has been just as long, and the sooner they get home the better. Another quick check to assure himself that he's got everything, and then Joonmyun is nodding. “Let's go.”
He leads Yifan out through the crush of fans. Yifan is as gracious as ever, pausing to smile directly at the cameras, but he doesn't waste any time. When they get to the car, Yifan settles down in his seat with his neck pillow, purposefully avoiding Joonmyun's eyes in the mirror. That's okay, Joonmyun has to focus on driving anyway.
Because he's a little bit sadistic, Joonmyun takes his time when they get home, taking off his shoes, going over a bit of paperwork, double-checking tomorrow's schedule. He gets caught up in it all, and he doesn't realize until Yifan is sticking his head around the doorframe. “Should we eat?” he asks carefully, and Joonmyun laughs.
“Sorry, got a little caught up,” he says, and Yifan nods. His casual manner is betrayed by the way his eyes fix on Joonmyun's and the way his tongue flashes out to lick his lips, and Joonmyun smiles. His acting is getting better. A year ago, he would never have been able to hide it this well. Joonmyun feels another surge of pride in Yifan, in how he's grown over the years. “Maybe something else first?”
The corners of Yifan's mouth curl up. “Please,” he says, and Joonmyun snorts. They're the only two in the dorm, but Joonmyun still tugs Yifan forward into his room and closes the door behind them. Yifan has changed, his stiff suit swapped for an old shirt and sweats, which Joonmyun much prefers. He won't have to get these pressed after they're done, and it's easier access.
He knows he could rile Yifan up a bit, tease him for being so eager, but with his makeup off, Joonmyun can see the deep circles under his eyes, and he doesn't have the heart to make him work for it. At least, not tonight.
He grabs a handful of Yifan's shirt and pulls him close, one hand pressed to the back of Yifan's neck. He likes the way that Yifan sighs into his mouth, his big hands curling around Joonmyun's hips. There's a lazy urgency to the way they kiss, the firm way that Yifan licks his way into Joonmyun's mouth. It's been a while, Joonmyun realizes. Yifan needs this and Joonmyun can provide it.
Joonmyun pushes his hand down between them, working his palm against the front of Yifan's sweats, and tired or not, he can feel his cock harden. The little noise Yifan makes deep in the back of his throat sends a sharp thrill down Joonmyun's spine, and he smiles against Yifan's lips.
He likes Yifan when he's tired like this. His guard is down, and he lets his hips arch up into Joonmyun's touch. This Yifan doesn't worry so much about appearing in control. He lets Joonmyun tug his sweats down and then push him back until his legs hit the bed and he sits down abruptly, looking almost surprised.
Joonmyun is still laughing softly when he drops to his knees and takes the tip of Yifan's half-hard cock into his mouth. He's good at this now, he's always been good at looking after Yifan. Yifan may be impatient, but Joonmyun never is. He takes his time, twisting his hand around the base of Yifan's cock as slowly as he works his lips and tongue against the head, and Yifan groans. “Joonmyun,” he says, but there's only the barest hint of pleading in his voice right now, so Joonmyun ignores him.
One of Yifan's big hands comes up to cradle the back of Joonmyun's head, but he knows better than to apply pressure. Joonmyun takes it as encouragement and he takes Yifan in deeper, sliding his fingertips up Yifan's belly, featherlight.
Yifan is never vocal, but when Joonmyun presses his tongue up, hard, just under the head of Yifan's cock, he's rewarded with a hiss. When he follows it up by taking Yifan in as far as he can, Yifan lets out a string of what Joonmyun is pretty certain is something filthy in Mandarin. Just this, just this ability to take Yifan apart has Joonmyun hard as hell, pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants.
He hums, pleased, and Yifan's fingers tighten in his hair. “Joonmyun,” he gasps. His hips jerk up into Joonmyun's mouth and Joonmyun presses him down, his eyes trained on Yifan's face.
He loves Yifan like this, his soft, just-washed hair in his eyes, a flush creeping up his throat, his hand opening and closing on the bedspread next to him. “Joonmyun,” he says again. “Please, please, fuck, please.” And there is the pleading he's been waiting for. Joonmyun swallows him down and Yifan almost sobs, falling back on his elbow as he thrusts up into Joonmyun's mouth. Joonmyun closes his eyes and lets him, lets Yifan fuck his mouth until he's crying out and coming, his fingers pulling hard at Joonmyun's hair.
.
Joonmyun swallows it down, only pulling off when Yifan collapses shakily on the bed. He's so hard now, and he wipes his hand across the back of his mouth before he pops the button on his jeans and pulls out his cock.
“Oh,” Yifan says, straightening, and he sounds a little wrecked. “I can – ”
Shaking his head, Joonmyun catches Yifan's hand. “No, I just...” It won't take him long, it's been a while since he had a chance to do this and he's got help in the form of Yifan, looking thoroughly debauched. He guides Yifan's hand to his head again, and it takes a second but Yifan gets it, he remembers. He slides his fingers into Joonmyun's hair and pulls, lightly at first, and then harder.
Joonmyun lets out a moan, his hand moving faster. He can feel it building and he's startled when Yifan bends to kiss him. The combination of Yifan's insistent lips and hand are too much, and it's a matter of minutes before Joonmyun shouts into Yifan's mouth, spilling over his hand.
Soothing a hand across the back of Joonmyun's head, Yifan smiles. “You know,” he says, passing over the tissues even as Joonmyun's reaching for them. “I can deal with the tough days if they're all going to end like this.”
Joonmyun rolls his eyes. “You would,” he says dryly, carefully cleaning himself up. He moves to button up his jeans but Yifan stops him, tugging them down and then dragging Joonmyun onto the bed and under the covers.
“Relax,” Yifan tells him, and Joonmyun can think of a half dozen things he should probably be doing. “Night off, remember?” Somehow, Joonmyun's responsibility abandons him and he finds himself curled up against Yifan's chest, listening to his heartbeat and his complaints about his co-hosts of the day. It's an odd sort of lullaby, but it works.
no subject