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fliccuThe Absent and Wandering Mind
Kris/Lay
NC17
1100 words
I wrote the majority of this on my ipod. It was supposed to be a drabble. I have an essay due in six days and a million and one things on my 'to write' list, none of which were this. WHAT WAS I THINKING? (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ PWP tbh. Yixing is filth.
Yixing has a terrible attention span. Wufan knows this. He’s used to it, by now, has learnt to navigate his way around sentences that fade away into nothing and conversations that flit from topic to topic, then back again.
In fact, Wufan would probably say he understands Yixing better than he understands anyone else. Yet Wufan still finds himself constantly bemused by the absentminded chatter Yixing comes out with during sex.
It had come as no surprise to Wufan that Yixing is a talker. He straddles Wufan’s hips, naked skin warm and soft, and there’s a stream of chatter falling from his mouth as he reaches past Wufan for the lube, slicks his fingers up. “I probably don’t even need to do this, you know,” Yixing murmurs, and he’s almost conversational as he reaches back and presses one finger up inside himself. “I fingered myself in the shower this morning,” he takes another digit easily, then he’s three fingers deep inside of himself and Wufan swallows down a groan, “pretended it was you.”
Wufan skims his hands up over Yixing’s thighs, digs his fingers sharply into the toned flesh. “I could probably have taken you straight away.” Yixing crooks his fingers, pleased smile tugging at his lips, and Wufan presses more firmly against Yixing’s legs, determinedly staring at the way his palms cover the whole width of muscle. “But I know how much you love to watch me work myself open like this.”
Yixing pulls out then, the drag of his fingers slow and obscene, and the tiny shudder that runs up his spine at the loss tells Wufan that that wasn’t all for him.
The first touch of Yixing’s hands has him jerking up into the sensation as Yixing coats Wufan’s cock. Wufan moves to take hold of his cock, guide himself in, but Yixing bats his hand away. “No,” he chastises. “I’m going to make you feel amazing, so just sit back and enjoy it.”
Wufan does as he’s told and drops his hands to his sides. Yixing shuffles back a little and then he sinks down onto Wufan with practiced ease. He gasps at the burn of it as Wufan’s head breaches the tight ring of muscle. “You’re so- Wufan, fuck, you’re- I don’t want to say it, you’re already too full of yourself,” Yixing teases.
Wufan jerks upwards in shallow little thrusts as Yixing squirms on his cock, trying to find a more comfortable position. He pinches Yixing’s thigh. “Say it.”
Yixing raises himself up, thighs trembling, and then eases back down with a groan. “Yours is the biggest cock I’ve ever had.” He shudders and tips his head back. “So fucking big it burns, but it feels so good, fills me up so good.“ Yixing puts his palms flat on Wufan’s chest and leans forward. “God, look at you preening,” he laughs, nips teasingly at the sharp jut of Wufan’s jaw.
Wufan curls a hand into his hair and drags Yixing into a sloppy kiss, the slide of their mouths hot and messy. Wufan’s voice is already wrecked as he murmurs, “Keep moving, Yixing.”
Yixing leans back, far too smug for Wufan’s liking, and reaches for the discarded tube. Yixing wants to coat Wufan with more lube, wants to feel the wet slide of Wufan’s cock into him even deeper. Wufan nearly bites through his own lip when Yixing flips the lid, pouts in disappointment and seats himself completely on Wufan’s thighs, forcing Wufan’s dick as deeply into Yixing as it’s possible to go.
“We’ve run out of lube,” he says. “Will you go and get us some, later?” Wufan just nods, lifts his hands to squeeze lightly at Yixing’s hips until he starts to rock them again. “I think they’re still doing that three for two offer if you buy from the specials range. Just don’t get the strawberry one, because you know that makes me gag, or-“ Yixing leans back, braces his weight on one arm, and the change in angle has him crying out. At least, Wufan thinks. “Ooh, get that sensations one, you know, the one that tingles? I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Wufan is about ready to scream in frustration. “Yixing.” Wufan’s fingers are digging pale purple welts into Yixing’s hips and he wants to press even harder, anything to pull Yixing’s attention back to him. “We’ll sort it later, can you just-“ Yixing blinks down at him and Wufan is almost positive that, just for a moment, he forgot Wufan was even underneath him, that Wufan’s cock was settled hot and heavy in his ass.
“Oh! Sorry.” Yixing smiles, dimple creasing into his cheek, and Wufan curses; it’s impossible for him to be angry at that face. Yixing falls back into his rhythm, bouncing on Wufan’s lap. He’s still talking, voice a constant buzz in Wufan’s ear, but he’s back to whispering praises, telling Wufan how good it is, how hot and deep and dirty it feels, and it doesn’t take long, after that, for Wufan to come, tugging Yixing down roughly as he spills inside him. Yixing doesn’t stop working him, squeezing almost too tight around his sensitive cock, and Wufan’s hips twitch feebly, body spent. He takes a hold of Yixing’s cock where it’s smacking against his thigh, swipes his palm over the head a few times, and then Yixing is panting, body bending back in a graceful arc as he comes all over Wufan’s stomach.
They stay like that for a moment, Wufan’s fingers still curled loosely around Yixing’s softening cock, and then Yixing is easing himself off carefully, pulling a face as Wufan’s cum leaves a sticky trail down the back of his thighs. “I’m leaking all over the sheets,” he says, and he states it so pleasantly that Wufan isn’t sure whether it’s a complaint or not.
He treats it as one anyway, reaching onto the nightstand for a tissue and pulling Yixing closer. He smiles at the pleased keens that catch in the back of Yixing’s throat as Wufan begins to clean him up, gently swiping the tissues between his legs. When’s he done, Wufan tosses the tissues into the bin and settles back into the pillows.
Yixing might be a scatterbrain and a chatterbox; he might be responsible for seventy percent of the headaches that seem to constantly tease around his temples. But, Wufan figures, as Yixing settles, pleased and sleepy, into the crook of his arm, it’s a fair trade off.
Wufan presses a kiss to Yixing’s sweat damp hair and closes his eyes. He never really liked silence anyway.
Kris/Lay
NC17
1100 words
I wrote the majority of this on my ipod. It was supposed to be a drabble. I have an essay due in six days and a million and one things on my 'to write' list, none of which were this. WHAT WAS I THINKING? (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ PWP tbh. Yixing is filth.
Yixing has a terrible attention span. Wufan knows this. He’s used to it, by now, has learnt to navigate his way around sentences that fade away into nothing and conversations that flit from topic to topic, then back again.
In fact, Wufan would probably say he understands Yixing better than he understands anyone else. Yet Wufan still finds himself constantly bemused by the absentminded chatter Yixing comes out with during sex.
It had come as no surprise to Wufan that Yixing is a talker. He straddles Wufan’s hips, naked skin warm and soft, and there’s a stream of chatter falling from his mouth as he reaches past Wufan for the lube, slicks his fingers up. “I probably don’t even need to do this, you know,” Yixing murmurs, and he’s almost conversational as he reaches back and presses one finger up inside himself. “I fingered myself in the shower this morning,” he takes another digit easily, then he’s three fingers deep inside of himself and Wufan swallows down a groan, “pretended it was you.”
Wufan skims his hands up over Yixing’s thighs, digs his fingers sharply into the toned flesh. “I could probably have taken you straight away.” Yixing crooks his fingers, pleased smile tugging at his lips, and Wufan presses more firmly against Yixing’s legs, determinedly staring at the way his palms cover the whole width of muscle. “But I know how much you love to watch me work myself open like this.”
Yixing pulls out then, the drag of his fingers slow and obscene, and the tiny shudder that runs up his spine at the loss tells Wufan that that wasn’t all for him.
The first touch of Yixing’s hands has him jerking up into the sensation as Yixing coats Wufan’s cock. Wufan moves to take hold of his cock, guide himself in, but Yixing bats his hand away. “No,” he chastises. “I’m going to make you feel amazing, so just sit back and enjoy it.”
Wufan does as he’s told and drops his hands to his sides. Yixing shuffles back a little and then he sinks down onto Wufan with practiced ease. He gasps at the burn of it as Wufan’s head breaches the tight ring of muscle. “You’re so- Wufan, fuck, you’re- I don’t want to say it, you’re already too full of yourself,” Yixing teases.
Wufan jerks upwards in shallow little thrusts as Yixing squirms on his cock, trying to find a more comfortable position. He pinches Yixing’s thigh. “Say it.”
Yixing raises himself up, thighs trembling, and then eases back down with a groan. “Yours is the biggest cock I’ve ever had.” He shudders and tips his head back. “So fucking big it burns, but it feels so good, fills me up so good.“ Yixing puts his palms flat on Wufan’s chest and leans forward. “God, look at you preening,” he laughs, nips teasingly at the sharp jut of Wufan’s jaw.
Wufan curls a hand into his hair and drags Yixing into a sloppy kiss, the slide of their mouths hot and messy. Wufan’s voice is already wrecked as he murmurs, “Keep moving, Yixing.”
Yixing leans back, far too smug for Wufan’s liking, and reaches for the discarded tube. Yixing wants to coat Wufan with more lube, wants to feel the wet slide of Wufan’s cock into him even deeper. Wufan nearly bites through his own lip when Yixing flips the lid, pouts in disappointment and seats himself completely on Wufan’s thighs, forcing Wufan’s dick as deeply into Yixing as it’s possible to go.
“We’ve run out of lube,” he says. “Will you go and get us some, later?” Wufan just nods, lifts his hands to squeeze lightly at Yixing’s hips until he starts to rock them again. “I think they’re still doing that three for two offer if you buy from the specials range. Just don’t get the strawberry one, because you know that makes me gag, or-“ Yixing leans back, braces his weight on one arm, and the change in angle has him crying out. At least, Wufan thinks. “Ooh, get that sensations one, you know, the one that tingles? I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Wufan is about ready to scream in frustration. “Yixing.” Wufan’s fingers are digging pale purple welts into Yixing’s hips and he wants to press even harder, anything to pull Yixing’s attention back to him. “We’ll sort it later, can you just-“ Yixing blinks down at him and Wufan is almost positive that, just for a moment, he forgot Wufan was even underneath him, that Wufan’s cock was settled hot and heavy in his ass.
“Oh! Sorry.” Yixing smiles, dimple creasing into his cheek, and Wufan curses; it’s impossible for him to be angry at that face. Yixing falls back into his rhythm, bouncing on Wufan’s lap. He’s still talking, voice a constant buzz in Wufan’s ear, but he’s back to whispering praises, telling Wufan how good it is, how hot and deep and dirty it feels, and it doesn’t take long, after that, for Wufan to come, tugging Yixing down roughly as he spills inside him. Yixing doesn’t stop working him, squeezing almost too tight around his sensitive cock, and Wufan’s hips twitch feebly, body spent. He takes a hold of Yixing’s cock where it’s smacking against his thigh, swipes his palm over the head a few times, and then Yixing is panting, body bending back in a graceful arc as he comes all over Wufan’s stomach.
They stay like that for a moment, Wufan’s fingers still curled loosely around Yixing’s softening cock, and then Yixing is easing himself off carefully, pulling a face as Wufan’s cum leaves a sticky trail down the back of his thighs. “I’m leaking all over the sheets,” he says, and he states it so pleasantly that Wufan isn’t sure whether it’s a complaint or not.
He treats it as one anyway, reaching onto the nightstand for a tissue and pulling Yixing closer. He smiles at the pleased keens that catch in the back of Yixing’s throat as Wufan begins to clean him up, gently swiping the tissues between his legs. When’s he done, Wufan tosses the tissues into the bin and settles back into the pillows.
Yixing might be a scatterbrain and a chatterbox; he might be responsible for seventy percent of the headaches that seem to constantly tease around his temples. But, Wufan figures, as Yixing settles, pleased and sleepy, into the crook of his arm, it’s a fair trade off.
Wufan presses a kiss to Yixing’s sweat damp hair and closes his eyes. He never really liked silence anyway.
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