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Good Thing

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     “Ah!” Sicheng gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth as Yuta’s fingernail caught his rim working a second finger in. He squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving, desperately listening for the sounds of shock and disgust from the adjacent room as the other members realized what they were doing. He swore he heard Mark’s muffled voice from the other side of the wall and held his breath, listening for a second voice, until Yuta jabbed both fingers directly into his prostate and his entire body jerked half a foot up the bed. “Ghh!” he grunted into his hand, turning desperate eyes on the other boy. Yuta smiled.

 

     “So sensitive,” he murmured, sliding the fingers in and out, eyes flicking down almost demurely to look at where they disappeared inside Sicheng’s ass. “You’re so cute, Winwin-ah.”

 

     It had started with them watching a movie on Yuta’s laptop. Or maybe it was a tv show; Sicheng could never really follow the plot. It was anime, and it was in Japanese, and the Chinese subtitles Yuta graciously enabled moved too fast and skipped every other sentence—

     Sicheng couldn’t really be bothered to put the effort in to piece it together.

 

     And he figured Yuta wasn’t really watching either. He had an arm draped around Sicheng’s shoulder, and Sicheng was pressed against him nearly spooning him from the side. They were almost lying down, heads propped up on the pillows from both his and Yuta’s bed, and the mattress itself was so small that in order to fit, Sicheng had to be just about on top of the older boy.

 

     He noticed, every time the scene changed in the movie, that Yuta’s eyes would flicker down to where his right leg was sandwiched between Sicheng’s. They would slowly move their way up to where Sicheng’s ass was angled out in what he knew was probably a very flattering position. His neck flushed every time he caught him looking, and if he stuck his ass out just a little more each time, well, that was just to separate his crotch from the other boy’s hip. He hates cuddling, he was just embarrassed. Obviously.

 

     Eventually, as tended to happen when they were in this position, Yuta’s hands started to wander. At first it was just the arm draped around his shoulders sliding down so he could work his fingers under the sleeve of Sicheng’s t-shirt, rubbing up and down his bicep and pushing the sleeve up past his shoulder. Then it was Yuta’s left hand snaking across to fish Sicheng’s arm out from between their bodies, pulling his hand across to rest on his chest and intertwining their fingers. Sicheng could feel Yuta’s heartbeat start to race under the palm of his hand.

 

     Then, the fingers rubbing his bicep ghosted down his arm, then back up again, repeating the motion back and forth in time with their breathing. Sicheng had already given up on what little of the plot he had been picking up when, on the downstroke, the hand slide past his elbow to abruptly reach down and grab his ass. He clenched his jaw, swallowed, and said, “What are you doing?”

 

     “Just getting comfortable,” Yuta said softly, eyes not moving from the screen. He shifted his hips under the laptop as if to emphasize his point. His right hand still had a vice grip on Sicheng’s ass cheek.

 

     “I’m not very comfortable,” he mumbled, shifting his hips forward and away from the other boy’s hand. This turned out to not be his best move, he realized, as his crotch made contact with Yuta’s hip and he became very aware of how distracted from the movie he had been.

 

     Yuta’s eyes snapped to where their bodies met, gaze suddenly very intense. “Oh,” he breathed, “would you be more comfortable if you were lying on your back instead?”

 

     “What?” Sicheng said, confused by the sincerity of the question. And the Korean.

 

     In one fairly smooth but still very dramatic motion, Yuta snapped the laptop shut, shoved it to the floor and yanked Sicheng by the arm until he was lying fully underneath him. His breath caught in his throat, eyes wide and mouth open. “I said,” Yuta whispered, lowering himself until his lips brushed the shell of Sicheng’s ear. “Would you rather be on your back?”

 

     “Get off me,” he said quickly, arms pulled in tight to his chest. He could push the older boy off him, realistically, if he wanted to. He looked over at where Yuta’s arm extended from his sleeveless shirt, bicep flexing inches from his face. Okay, maybe it would take more than a push. He could get out of this, was the point.

 

     But this was their game. It wasn’t Sicheng’s design, it wasn’t even his idea. One day, Yuta was introducing himself as a fellow foreigner, all sincere smiles and awkward bro handshakes. At the time Sicheng had thought he was just a touchy guy, and his Korean was for shit, and Yuta knew some broken Chinese. Then a week later, Yuta explained how fanservice worked in Japan. A month later he had him pressed against the wall of the dorm shower, three fingers in his ass, telling him to beg in Japanese if he wanted to come.

     Sicheng definitely did not orchestrate any of this shit.

 

     He was about to explain this to Yuta, as concisely as possible in his limited Korean, when the door opened. Taeil walked in, head craned and eyes almost crossed looking at the popsicle he was sucking on. He glanced up, noticing the other two. Sicheng tried to communicate without words that he did not end up in his present situation by choice, and a grandiose display of horror would not go amiss in this moment. Taeil stared at them for a beat, mouth still attached to the popsicle, then he turned on his heel and walked back out, door closing behind him.

 

     Asshole.

 

     “Oh, baby,” Yuta said, voice getting low. “I think we’re gonna have all night to get comfortable, now.”

 

     Sicheng rolled his eyes. “I was watching the movie, hyung,” he said, pressing his pinned arms up against his chest pathetically.

 

     “Name one part of the plot and I’ll get off you right now,” Yuta deadpanned, dropping the act. Sicheng sighed, realizing not only could he not name a single thing that had happened in the movie, but that even if he could, Yuta wasn’t getting off him. He met the older boy’s eyes, giving up, and opened his legs so Yuta’s hips dropped hard into his. They both gasped at the contact.

 

     Yuta’s lips met his in a crushing kiss, hips rolling down. He could feel the half hard cock rubbing into his pelvis, just to the left of where he wanted it to be, but Yuta’s kiss was so urgent he was too distracted to adjust his angle. And they were both still wearing jeans, so not much was happening there, in any case.

 

     Eventually, somehow, they ended up with Sicheng’s pants on the floor, his t-shirt and socks still on, hips lifted up onto Yuta’s legs as he knelt over him, and a lubed finger working into his ass. Where they always ended up, of course, because once again Sicheng had completely lost control of the situation.

 

     Sicheng was doing fairly well keeping the noises in check, bottom lip firmly between his teeth and both hands beside his head, clenching the pillows. Everyone in the dorms had a pretty good idea, generally, of what they were getting up to, but nobody except Taeil knew what Sicheng was regularly reduced to. And he would really love to keep it that way, really, but it was when Yuta started working his middle finger in that it became somewhat of a challenge.

     Yuta had his left hand wrapped around his thigh, squeezing so hard the flesh was smushed between his fingers, and he used that grip to pull Sicheng farther up into his lap. With the new leverage, he was able to hit his prostate on almost every pass, causing Sicheng’s chest to jerk and his back to bow every time. He let out a high pitched grunt with each thrust, which quickly devolved into one continuous whine as Yuta picked up the pace. The way Yuta looked so calm, as if he was dealing cards and not fucking his friend into a humiliating mess with just two fingers, was absolutely infuriating. Sicheng had never seen anything so fucking hot in his life.

 

     His eyes rolled back into his head and he hollowed out his stomach, hot pleasure pooling in his abdomen. Yuta was getting him at just the right angle, he was so close he could see stars in the corners of his vision. He let go of the pillow with his right hand and reached down to stroke himself, only to have it knocked away with a chuckle. “What’s wrong, baby?” Yuta said, voice low and only just slightly breathless. “You can’t come like this?”

 

     Sicheng was way fucking past Korean, head shaking back and forth desperately. “Please, please, please,” he whined in Mandarin, twitching his hips down to meet each thrust. “I can’t, please, I can’t.”

 

     Yuta yanked his fingers out abruptly, adjusting his position so Sicheng was sat more comfortably in his lap. “Fuck,” Sicheng said, glaring down at him. “What the—”

 

     “In Japanese,” Yuta said, eyes dark, both hands now on his thighs just under his hips, holding him in place. “You know the rules, baby.”

 

     Sicheng shook his head, cheeks hot. He hated this, hated admitting what he wanted.

 

     Hated how much he got off on begging.

 

     “Or do you want me to jack off on you?” Yuta said, tilting his head sideways, way too fucking casual for the energy he’d created. “You want me to come all over you and then go to bed, just leave you like this until morning?”

 

     Sicheng kept his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He shook his head quickly, eyes fixed on Yuta’s collarbone. “We have a schedule tomorrow morning, Winwin-ah,” he said, voice almost all breath now. “You’d have to wait until we got home tomorrow night to get off, wouldn’t you?” His eyes were almost glowing with lust, the frenzied look being the only indicator of how affected he was. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and blinked, eyes hooded, raking over Sicheng’s stomach where the t-shirt had lifted, down to his almost purple cock leaking precome into his belly button. “And that’s only if you can be good tomorrow, right? If you can remember your Japanese…”

 

     “Please, let me come,” Sicheng gasped in probably barely sufficient Japanese, Yuta’s words finally getting to him. He imagined spending the whole day waiting until they got home, hiding his arousal while they sang or danced or modeled for handbags or whatever the fuck. Getting home, getting into the shower, and Yuta fucking him open and STILL playing his games, not letting him come until he was sobbing and shaking and probably certifiable. Just imagining it was almost enough to get him there, he just needed Yuta’s hands on him. “Please touch me, hyung,” he almost sobbed, looking anywhere but the other boy’s face.

 

     “So polite, baby,” he mumbled. “Always so good, doing everything I say…” As he talked he worked his middle and ring finger on his left hand into Sicheng’s ass, angling them up and pulling them forward and borderline abusing his prostate on every thrust. Sicheng genuinely felt as if he might cry, jerking his hips up and down to meet his hand, when Yuta wrapped his lube-covered right hand around his leaking cock and started to jerk him off in time with the thrusts.

 

     Sicheng lasted about 30 seconds, vocalizing little exclamations of pleasure every time his body was wrenched down the bed. He closed his eyes, jamming the heel of his palm into his mouth, his entire body quivering with tension. He felt something on the tip of his cock and glanced down just in time to see Yuta press a gentle, almost reverent kiss to the head. And then he was coming, both hands slapped to the wall behind him and his head thrown back, mouth hanging open in a silent gasp. Yuta continued to work him through it, brushing his fingers under the head just enough to make his body twitch each time.

 

     He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes, but eventually Yuta’s strokes slowed down, and the fingers in his ass stilled. He was panting, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed. He glanced down and he swore he almost came again when he saw a streak of white across Yuta’s cheek, that urgent look still in his eyes. “Did you make a mess, baby?”



Chapter Text

 

 

“Did you make a mess, baby?”

 

Sicheng was frozen, eyes on the stripe of come slowly dripping down Yuta’s cheek. There was a predatory look in his eyes as he slipped his fingers out of Sicheng’s ass and crawled forward, slowly, until he was hovering over him.

 

He leaned in as if to kiss him on the cheek and whispered, “ Lick it off.

 

“That’s disgusting,” Sicheng protested, bringing his arms down from above his head to halfheartedly push at Yuta’s shoulders. “Get off.”

 

Yuta chuckled and leaned back a bit, regarding the boy underneath him with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Then he grabbed Sicheng’s chin roughly, lube covered fingers digging into his cheeks. “Winwin-ah, when did you get such an attitude?”

 

He tossed his head to the side, letting his hand linger and smearing lube from his jaw down to his neck. He wiped a hand through the come on his cheek and smudged that across Sicheng’s face, too.

 

“God, you’re so gross,” he mumbled, pushing at Yuta’s shoulders again and rubbing his arm across his mouth. Yuta laughed, sitting up so he was straddling Sicheng’s thighs.

 

And he just sat there for a minute, swirling circles of lube into the sides of Sicheng’s waist, the hungry look in his eyes just the slightest bit soft. Sicheng swallowed, not sure what to do with that look. He felt like he had a responsibility to it, like he owned it. Like he had to keep that look in his pocket all the time and make sure it stayed safe. There was a lot they didn’t say.

 

“Fuck me,” he said suddenly.

 

Yuta’s hands froze. He blinked once, surprise replacing any softness in his face. Then he seemed to remember himself.

 

“Do you feel like you’ve earned that?” he said darkly.

 

Sicheng’s mouth fell open. That had never not worked. “I-I uh-”

 

Yuta smirked, sitting back on his heels. Suddenly, Sicheng was being flipped onto his stomach, hands swiftly kneading his ass cheeks apart. He gasped, his cock twitching where it was pressed into the mattress. He heard Yuta unzipping his pants.

 

“Baby,” Yuta exhaled. He was suddenly so close to Sicheng’s hole he could feel his breath ghosting over him. He clutched at the blankets, trying not to grind down on to the bed. “I can’t keep rewarding you for talking back like this.”

 

“Ah!” he yelped. Yuta was biting down hard on his left ass cheek. “Hyung-”

 

“Shh, no one will see any marks here,” he said, pressing a kiss over where his teeth had just been. “At least they better not.”

 

Sicheng pressed his face into the pillows. Almost involuntarily, he pushed his ass up towards the other boy’s face, whimpering quietly. He was too shy to ask for what he wanted, he didn’t even want to admit it to himself. He was this close begging for it.

 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. He cried out into the pillows as he felt Yuta’s tongue lick firmly from just above his balls, all the way up to the small of his back. His face burned, imagining how he looked, spread open with Yuta’s face between his legs. A shiver ran down his spine.

 

He felt a finger wiggle into his hole, and Yuta’s tongue quickly joined it, working him open. He spread his legs wider, frantically alternating between pushing his ass up and grinding his cock down. “Hyung, please,” he whined, voice muffled.

 

“God, you really must be desperate for it, Winwin-ah,” Yuta said, replacing his tongue with a second finger. “Can’t even wait for me to finish stretching you.”

 

The fingers pumped into him a few more times and then he was empty, his hole struggling to clench around nothing. A second later he felt the blunt head of Yuta’s cock pressing into him, knocking the air from his lungs. He was right, Sicheng wasn’t prepped enough, and he felt the sting all the way up his spine. He groaned into the pillows, tears sliding into the fabric.

 

“You’re so tight, baby,” Yuta said, his voice strained. Sicheng glanced to his side and where the other boy’s arm was braced on the bed, forearm muscles bulging. He focused on it as his ass stretched around Yuta’s cock, trying to convince himself it wasn’t the pain that was getting him hard again.

 

It could have been forever before he felt Yuta’s hips pressing against his ass, his body settling over Sicheng’s with a long groan.

 

They both sat there for a moment, breathing in sync, Yuta getting used to the tightness and Sicheng getting used to the stretch. Sicheng kept hearing his own exhalations come out in little whimpers, fingers twisting in the pillowcase.

 

Then Yuta started to move, that sting up spine sending electric shocks right to his cock. Yuta was almost completely pulled out, just the head still inside him, then he sank all his weight down again with a grunt that Sicheng felt in his toes. He placed a wet kiss between his shoulder blades and started setting a rhythm.

 

With every thrust, Sicheng’s cock rubbed against the blankets. He pressed his face down, trying to muffle his cries as much as he could, but Yuta’s cock grazed his prostate every few thrusts, and he was really getting to that place where he didn’t care.

 

He sniffled wetly and, at the sound, Yuta’s hips stuttered, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing a fistful of Sicheng’s hair and yanking his head back.

 

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he said through his teeth, fucking into him at a brutal pace. “Is my cock too big for you, Winwin-ah? Does it hurt?”

 

“So good,” Sicheng sobbed. “Fuck, ha-harder.”

 

Yuta cursed in Japanese, pulling out and settling back on his knees. He yanked Sicheng up by his hips and lined himself up, cock sliding into him in one smooth motion. Sicheng pressed his face and chest down onto the bed, arching his back as Yuta used the new leverage to pound into him mercilessly. Sicheng imagined the slapping of their hips was shaking the whole house.

 

“You want me to come inside you?” Yuta said, emphasizing each word by yanking Sicheng’s hips back into his. “Gonna fill you up like this.”

 

“No,” Sicheng whimpered. He didn’t care, really, but it always got Yuta there faster if he protested, and he couldn’t pretend that the complete loss of control wasn’t doing things to him too.

 

Yuta adjusted his grip higher on his hips and started fucking into him like a jackhammer. He sobbed into the pillows, sliding one hand down to stroke himself. This time, Yuta left him alone, too preoccupied with slamming him back onto his cock. He lifted one hand to smack his ass, and almost instantly Sicheng was coming, nearly screaming into the pillows. Yuta fucked him through it, slower but twice as hard, until he was whimpering and wiggling away from the oversensitivity.

 

Yuta’s grip only tightened, fucking him for a dozen more almost-painful strokes before pulling his hips back hard and coming deep in his ass. Sicheng moaned at the warmth, pushing his ass back and trying to feel as much of it as he could. He shivered as Yuta pulled out, the last few spurts of come landing across his ass and lower back. His entire body was shaking like a leaf.

 

Yuta collapsed next to him, Sicheng still too wired to move. He sat there, forehead resting on the pillows and ass in the air, come dripping out of his hole, until he felt Yuta’s hands on his hips guide him down so he was lying on his side. They settled in like they had earlier, with Sicheng’s head on his chest, one leg and one arm draped over him. He sighed, closing his eyes.

 

They stayed like that for a long moment, neither wanting to get up and turn the light off. Yuta’s fingers ghosted along his side, occasionally running through the drops of come on his ass and smearing it around a bit. Sicheng scrunched his nose each time, too tired to vocalize how gross he was being.

 

“Sicheng-ah,” Yuta whispered, barely more than a sigh. The tone in his voice struck something in Sicheng that felt kind of like a lead weight dropping into his stomach.

 

“I’ll turn the light off,” he said quickly, unpeeling himself from the other boy’s side. He got about one step away from the bed before collapsing back onto it, underestimating how shaky his legs would be. Yuta laughed.

 

“Lay down, I’ll get it,” he said, pulling him back so he was lying on his back, head on the pillows. He rested his hands on his stomach, head rolling to the side to watch Yuta walk over to Taeil’s hamper and pull out a t-shirt. He laughed as Yuta wiped himself down, tossing their roommate’s shirt over to him so he could clean up, too.

 

“You’re so disgusting,” he laughed, catching it. Yuta winked, then flipped the lightswitch. Sicheng used the t-shirt on himself, mentally apologizing to Taeil but then deciding he actually didn’t care. He giggled as he heard Yuta bump his foot on the bedframe and mutter “fuck” under his breath.

 

He crawled into bed, grabbing the shirt from Sicheng and throwing it somewhere behind him. Sicheng’s eyes were adjusted enough to the darkness at that point to see the very faint moonlight catch on Yuta’s face. He swallowed, looking away as he scooted over to make room.

 

Yuta laid down, guiding Sicheng’s head back to his chest as he pulled the sheet over them both. He left his hand on his head, stroking his fingers through his hair, and Sicheng felt a pressure on his forehead that he tried not to imagine was a kiss.

 

“Goodnight, Sicheng-ah,” Yuta whispered. Sicheng could feel Yuta’s heartbeat against chest, his own hammering as he decided if he was going to do what he was thinking he might do.

 

Before he could consider the implications, he leaned up and planted a quick kiss on Yuta’s cheek, his own cheeks burning. Yuta froze as Sicheng settled back into his spot, wrapping an arm around his chest. “Shut up,” he mumbled.

 

Yuta maneuvered to grab Sicheng’s face with both hands, angling it up and pressing one firm, chaste kiss to his lips. He followed it up with three or four more quick pecks before planting one on his nose, then each cheek. Sicheng could feel him smiling through the kisses. He wished he could just fucking die.

 

“I love you too, Winwin-ah,” Yuta exclaimed, settling onto his back and squeezing the other boy with both arms.

 

“Okay, stupid,” Sicheng said, absolutely mortified. He closed his eyes, pushing away all sensation except the tiredness in his limbs. Yuta really could be an idiot.