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fliccuLet's Get Unprofessional
Chanyeol/Baekhyun
R
1256 words
'Just now, in the toilet, Baekhyun showed me his stomach... wow!' Oh did he now, Park Chanyeol? Well I suppose I've got no choice but to write about how I think that went down, now, have I? Based on this conversation between Baekhyun and Chanyeol about a certain someone's 'chocolate abs.'
It becomes something of a ritual between the two of them, sneaking off together while the rest of the group are running through their final checks before going on stage. Nobody ever says anything. In fact, with the sheer volume of people crushed into the tiny space back stage, harried sound technicians with extra microphones and anxious make up artists forcing their way through the crowd around the members to tease a stray bit of hair just right; well, Chanyeol would even go as far to say the rest of their band mates are probably just grateful for the extra breathing room.
The first time they’d done this, one of the costume department had been hovering around Baekhyun, pulling at his tie and fussing with the lapels of his jacket. The line of tension across his shoulders had been obvious to Chanyeol even as he’d glanced up from his phone and Chanyeol remembers sweeping in, snatching Baekhyun from the woman’s grasp with an apologetic smile and promise to return him safe and sound. They’d found an abandoned dressing room, dark and cold and quiet against the chaos of last minute preparations outside. Baekhyun’s grateful smile had tasted impossibly sweet.
Even to this day, Chanyeol swears blind that he’d only done it as a distraction for Baekhyun. Insists that he’d simply stepped in before the obvious tension coiled beneath Baekhyun’s skin had strained and snapped, but they both know it’s more than that. They are both well acquainted with the nerves that lurk just under the surface, and if they choose to deal with them through a little physical distraction, well, Chanyeol figures, there’s really nothing wrong with that.
That’s how they find themselves crammed into the bathroom twenty minutes before everyone is due on stage. The back of Baekhyun’s knees are pressed against the toilet seat and Chanyeol grunts as Baekhyun curls fingers roughly into his hair then surges forward, the lock on the door digging into the base of his spine.
Baekhyun’s grip doesn’t loosen, not even as he tips his head up and seals their mouths together. His tongue forces it’s way into Chanyeol’s mouth and Chanyeol can barely concentrate, fingers shaking as he hurriedly pops the buttons of the flimsy, black shirt the stylists have put Baekhyun in. When his shirt finally falls open Chanyeol breaks the kiss, ignoring Baekhyun’s hiss of displeasure to dip his own head and press kisses along Baekhyun’s exposed torso. His skin always blushes so prettily and now is no exception, Baekhyun’s body hot and flushed under Chanyeol’s mouth as he sinks down to his knees, tongue flicking briefly into the dip of Baekhyun’s belly button before he turns his attention to his belt.
He struggles to get the buckle undone and one of Baekhyun’s hands joins him, the other returning to fist in Chanyeol’s hair. Once the belt is out of the way, hanging down over Baekhyun’s hips, they waste no time in pushing his pants and underwear down, just enough, just so that his cock springs out, ruddy pink and lovely as the rest of him. Baekhyun pushes his head forward and Chanyeol lets him, mouth opening eagerly to take everything that Baekhyun offers. It’s rushed and sloppy and a part of Chanyeol wishes they had the time for him to tease, to work his tongue over the head of Baekhyun’s cock, to slide his hand down between Baekhyun’s legs and trace over his balls, to torment and torture Baekhyun until he’s so turned on he’s close to tears. But they don’t have that luxury, not now, and honestly that’s never what this has been about. This has always been a means to an end, a way of taking off the edge, to calm the nervous energy that thrums through both of them before it turns into a cocktail infinitely more poisonous.
They’ll have time to enjoy every nook and cranny of each other’s bodies later, when they’re curled up in Baekhyun’s bed back in the dorm, warm and naked and still riding high on the adrenaline that only a concert can give. But for now Chanyeol simply focuses on the slide of Baekhyun’s cock in and out of his mouth. There’s spit spilling down his chin and he hears Baekhyun cry out, his voice high and sharp and completely undignified when Chanyeol flattens his tongue against the under side of his cock and sucks hard.
“Quickly, Chanyeol, quickly, we don’t have time-“ Baekhyun gasps and Chanyeol absently shoves a hand down his own pants. He ignores the ache in his jaw and spreads his legs to get a better grip around his cock, tries to match his rhythm to the bobbing motion of his head.
Baekhyun’s grip turns painful and that’s the only warning Chanyeol gets before Baekhyun comes down his throat. The taste is something Chanyeol doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to, strong and salty, but he swallows anyway, nose wrinkled as he pulls back and lets Baekhyun’s cock slip free from his mouth.
The hand in his hair slides down to his neck, thumb grazing over the bony knob of his spine and Chanyeol jerks himself a few more times, short and sharp, then spills all over his hand.
The toilet cubicle is too small and the heat of Baekhyun’s body is almost stifling as the pair of them try and catch their breath. They can’t have more than five minutes before they need to be on stage but neither of them make an attempt to move, Chanyeol’s hand still wrapped loosely around his cock and Baekhyun’s thighs trembling either side of him.
Chanyeol recovers first, lazily tucking himself back into his pants with one hand. There’s a tearing sound from somewhere above him and Chanyeol grins as Baekhyun presses a wad of toilet paper into his hand. As soon as he’s cleaned himself up, Chanyeol turns his attention to Baekhyun, pulling his pants back up and tucking him away gently, the buckle of Baekhyun’s belt much less challenging now that the grip of his fingers is steady and sated. His shirt is still open, draped loosely over his shoulders and baring his stomach. Fully aware that someone is probably going to come looking for them any minute now, Chanyeol still can’t resist leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Baekhyun’s belly.
“Why don’t you get your abs out, sometime?” Chanyeol’s lips brush not so accidental kisses into Baekhyun’s stomach as he speaks, “I’m sure the fans would love that.”
“Are you an idiot?” Baekhyun asks and he slides his hand back into Chanyeol’s hair, pulls gently to guide him to his feet. Chanyeol sighs regretfully, but he goes, grimacing when his knees scream in pain. “I haven’t been inside a gym in weeks.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol hums, fingers lingering too long to be anything but deliberate as he buttons his shirt back up for him, “and you’re all the more gorgeous for it.”
Baekhyun laughs, louder and delighted, and then pushes past him. The cubicle is tiny but the way Baekhyun’s body brushes up against his as he unhooks the lock and then slides out makes Chanyeol snort.
And if Baekhyun’s grin is a bit more satisfied than usual as he waits for Chanyeol so that they can leave the bathroom together, if his eyes sparkle a little darker than normal when they’re on stage, later, joking about Baekhyun’s Nutella abs with the fans screaming his name up at them, well, that tells Chanyeol just about everything that he needs to know.
Chanyeol/Baekhyun
R
1256 words
'Just now, in the toilet, Baekhyun showed me his stomach... wow!' Oh did he now, Park Chanyeol? Well I suppose I've got no choice but to write about how I think that went down, now, have I? Based on this conversation between Baekhyun and Chanyeol about a certain someone's 'chocolate abs.'
It becomes something of a ritual between the two of them, sneaking off together while the rest of the group are running through their final checks before going on stage. Nobody ever says anything. In fact, with the sheer volume of people crushed into the tiny space back stage, harried sound technicians with extra microphones and anxious make up artists forcing their way through the crowd around the members to tease a stray bit of hair just right; well, Chanyeol would even go as far to say the rest of their band mates are probably just grateful for the extra breathing room.
The first time they’d done this, one of the costume department had been hovering around Baekhyun, pulling at his tie and fussing with the lapels of his jacket. The line of tension across his shoulders had been obvious to Chanyeol even as he’d glanced up from his phone and Chanyeol remembers sweeping in, snatching Baekhyun from the woman’s grasp with an apologetic smile and promise to return him safe and sound. They’d found an abandoned dressing room, dark and cold and quiet against the chaos of last minute preparations outside. Baekhyun’s grateful smile had tasted impossibly sweet.
Even to this day, Chanyeol swears blind that he’d only done it as a distraction for Baekhyun. Insists that he’d simply stepped in before the obvious tension coiled beneath Baekhyun’s skin had strained and snapped, but they both know it’s more than that. They are both well acquainted with the nerves that lurk just under the surface, and if they choose to deal with them through a little physical distraction, well, Chanyeol figures, there’s really nothing wrong with that.
That’s how they find themselves crammed into the bathroom twenty minutes before everyone is due on stage. The back of Baekhyun’s knees are pressed against the toilet seat and Chanyeol grunts as Baekhyun curls fingers roughly into his hair then surges forward, the lock on the door digging into the base of his spine.
Baekhyun’s grip doesn’t loosen, not even as he tips his head up and seals their mouths together. His tongue forces it’s way into Chanyeol’s mouth and Chanyeol can barely concentrate, fingers shaking as he hurriedly pops the buttons of the flimsy, black shirt the stylists have put Baekhyun in. When his shirt finally falls open Chanyeol breaks the kiss, ignoring Baekhyun’s hiss of displeasure to dip his own head and press kisses along Baekhyun’s exposed torso. His skin always blushes so prettily and now is no exception, Baekhyun’s body hot and flushed under Chanyeol’s mouth as he sinks down to his knees, tongue flicking briefly into the dip of Baekhyun’s belly button before he turns his attention to his belt.
He struggles to get the buckle undone and one of Baekhyun’s hands joins him, the other returning to fist in Chanyeol’s hair. Once the belt is out of the way, hanging down over Baekhyun’s hips, they waste no time in pushing his pants and underwear down, just enough, just so that his cock springs out, ruddy pink and lovely as the rest of him. Baekhyun pushes his head forward and Chanyeol lets him, mouth opening eagerly to take everything that Baekhyun offers. It’s rushed and sloppy and a part of Chanyeol wishes they had the time for him to tease, to work his tongue over the head of Baekhyun’s cock, to slide his hand down between Baekhyun’s legs and trace over his balls, to torment and torture Baekhyun until he’s so turned on he’s close to tears. But they don’t have that luxury, not now, and honestly that’s never what this has been about. This has always been a means to an end, a way of taking off the edge, to calm the nervous energy that thrums through both of them before it turns into a cocktail infinitely more poisonous.
They’ll have time to enjoy every nook and cranny of each other’s bodies later, when they’re curled up in Baekhyun’s bed back in the dorm, warm and naked and still riding high on the adrenaline that only a concert can give. But for now Chanyeol simply focuses on the slide of Baekhyun’s cock in and out of his mouth. There’s spit spilling down his chin and he hears Baekhyun cry out, his voice high and sharp and completely undignified when Chanyeol flattens his tongue against the under side of his cock and sucks hard.
“Quickly, Chanyeol, quickly, we don’t have time-“ Baekhyun gasps and Chanyeol absently shoves a hand down his own pants. He ignores the ache in his jaw and spreads his legs to get a better grip around his cock, tries to match his rhythm to the bobbing motion of his head.
Baekhyun’s grip turns painful and that’s the only warning Chanyeol gets before Baekhyun comes down his throat. The taste is something Chanyeol doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to, strong and salty, but he swallows anyway, nose wrinkled as he pulls back and lets Baekhyun’s cock slip free from his mouth.
The hand in his hair slides down to his neck, thumb grazing over the bony knob of his spine and Chanyeol jerks himself a few more times, short and sharp, then spills all over his hand.
The toilet cubicle is too small and the heat of Baekhyun’s body is almost stifling as the pair of them try and catch their breath. They can’t have more than five minutes before they need to be on stage but neither of them make an attempt to move, Chanyeol’s hand still wrapped loosely around his cock and Baekhyun’s thighs trembling either side of him.
Chanyeol recovers first, lazily tucking himself back into his pants with one hand. There’s a tearing sound from somewhere above him and Chanyeol grins as Baekhyun presses a wad of toilet paper into his hand. As soon as he’s cleaned himself up, Chanyeol turns his attention to Baekhyun, pulling his pants back up and tucking him away gently, the buckle of Baekhyun’s belt much less challenging now that the grip of his fingers is steady and sated. His shirt is still open, draped loosely over his shoulders and baring his stomach. Fully aware that someone is probably going to come looking for them any minute now, Chanyeol still can’t resist leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Baekhyun’s belly.
“Why don’t you get your abs out, sometime?” Chanyeol’s lips brush not so accidental kisses into Baekhyun’s stomach as he speaks, “I’m sure the fans would love that.”
“Are you an idiot?” Baekhyun asks and he slides his hand back into Chanyeol’s hair, pulls gently to guide him to his feet. Chanyeol sighs regretfully, but he goes, grimacing when his knees scream in pain. “I haven’t been inside a gym in weeks.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol hums, fingers lingering too long to be anything but deliberate as he buttons his shirt back up for him, “and you’re all the more gorgeous for it.”
Baekhyun laughs, louder and delighted, and then pushes past him. The cubicle is tiny but the way Baekhyun’s body brushes up against his as he unhooks the lock and then slides out makes Chanyeol snort.
And if Baekhyun’s grin is a bit more satisfied than usual as he waits for Chanyeol so that they can leave the bathroom together, if his eyes sparkle a little darker than normal when they’re on stage, later, joking about Baekhyun’s Nutella abs with the fans screaming his name up at them, well, that tells Chanyeol just about everything that he needs to know.
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Date: 2015-03-22 06:37 pm (UTC)thank you for writing this and sharing it with us ♡
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