[oneshot] passing the torch
Title: passing the torch
Pairing: baekhyun/lay
Rating: nc17
Genre: au, mild romance, pwp
Warnings: swearing, sex (mildly under the influence)
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: baekhyun and yixing write queer lit for a living and meet at the yearly awards ceremony. this is all super gratuitous, I JUST WANTED TO WRITE PORN, etc. 3,630 words.
Last year, after Baekhyun won the annual Nobel Prize for gay literature or whatever, he hadn't known it meant he'd have to primp himself up for next year's ceremony. Well-maybe they had told him, and he'd conveniently been too drunk from the celebratory festivities to remember. "Yes," Kyungsoo says testily over the phone when he calls Baekhyun about the arrangements. "This is how it's always been done. The previous winner presents the award to the next person. So no, you can't come in jeans and a hoodie like you did last time. I swear to God, Baekhyun, I won't let you in the building."
"You can present the award for me in absentia, then," Baekhyun mutters, fluffing his hair and kicking the sheets off the bed. "No big deal."
Predictably, Kyungsoo starts squawking in his ear about the importance of tradition and values. As if tradition actually belonged in a conversation about an award show celebrating erotica. Baekhyun puts him on speaker as he shuffles into the kitchenette and swings the freezer door open, squinting against the blast of cold air.
In the end he agrees to go, if only so it'll get Kyungsoo off his back. Hell has no fury like an angry event planner, especially not one who's got zero qualms about choking the shit out of Baekhyun if it means he'll get his way. Besides, the catering and the company are usually pretty good at these things. Another consecutive Saturday night spent alone, curled around his coffee pot and staring at the blinking cursor in his latest project, is too bleak to contemplate. Feels like he's been working on the goddamn thing for decades, and all he has to show for it are a bunch of stupid puns about how big the main protag's flippers are. No one wants to read an off-color reimagining of the Little Mermaid.
Baekhyun rips the cardboard packaging off his TV dinner and loads it in the microwave, finger tapping at his mouth. His writing's only ever as good as the source, and. Well. He doesn't want to think about how long it's been since he got laid. Last year, after the ceremony, he'd gone home with some kid with dark eyes and an amazing ass, and he'd been dressed in a frumpy hoodie two sizes too big for him and a pair of jeans he's owned since college.
Better luck this time, Baekhyun thinks drily as the timer on the microwave goes off, and promptly burns the palm of his right hand on the plastic.
Jongdae knocks his door down Saturday afternoon to drag him to some upscale salon in Midtown. "Unless you want to do your hair yourself," he says, gaze flicking up to settle on the bird's nest of Baekhyun's bedhead. "I doubt it, though."
"Saturday is supposed to be for sleeping," Baekhyun croaks, "and it's just hair," but he lets Jongdae pull a jacket around his shoulders and lead him out anyway.
"Liyin swears by this place," he says as they step through the door.
Baekhyun gags at the first whiff of bleach. He plops into one of the swivel chairs next to Jongdae, who's already chatting happily to one of the hairdressers. Grilling her about the particulars of her job. Jongdae's one of those plucky creative types who literally writes what he knows-his latest series of novellas tended to revolve around sexual relationships between older women and younger dudes-so he must be doing research or something. Talk about ulterior motives.
Baekhyun dozes off in the middle of the shampoo scrub but jolts awake again when Jongdae kicks his foot and hisses, "Hey, do you even own a suit? For tonight?"
"Sure I do," Baekhyun says automatically, but the last time he wore something even remotely business casual had been at his brother's wedding, three years gone.
"It's fine," Jongdae says, rolling his eyes. The hairdresser yanks him back to sit properly as she trims his bangs and he swallows a yelp. "Anyway, don't worry, I anticipated this."
When they've finished spritzing Baekhyun's updo with enough product to cement it in place, Jongdae walks out to the car and comes back with a freshly dry-cleaned tux in each hand.
"Might be a little tight around the shoulders," he says, tossing the black one in Baekhyun's lap. "But we're basically the same size, so it should work for the night."
"I owe you," Baekhyun says fervently. He runs a hand over the plastic wrapping and jumps with alarm as a make-up lady slides in and starts attacking his face with blush. His eyes close on instinct, the brush tickling his nose. He sneezes twice.
"Yeah, dude," comes Jongdae's voice. "You really do."
"I could suck your dick as recompense," Baekhyun offers, grinning, and flinches when he feels a hard flick to his forehead.
"Alright, keep it in your pants," Jongdae says, but he's laughing.
Kyungsoo looks like he might cry of relief when he sees Baekhyun walk into the reception hall with Jongdae. As much as someone like Kyungsoo can look relieved, anyway, considering the spectrum of emotion he's shown Baekhyun over the years ranges from mild annoyance to out to kill. "You came," Kyungsoo says. He steps up to adjust Baekhyun's crooked bowtie. "You don't look like a bum. Incredible."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Baekhyun says, folding a hand over his heart.
They take seats at a table near the front of the room. Everything is very classy and sterile, which only makes Baekhyun wants to mess shit up. Unfortunately, as a guest of honor, he's supposed to set an example, whatever that means. This really isn't what he signed up for when he decided he wanted to write tasteful gay porn. He folds his hands in his lap but can't stop the jiggle in his leg until Jongdae casts him a look in the middle of the opening remarks from the host-Chanyeol Park, this year-and presses a meaningful hand to his thigh.
Baekhyun focuses on cramming his face full of food after that. There's a round of polite clapping as a lifetime achievement award goes to some old white dude who delivers a long rambling speech before getting played off the stage. The applause is more genuine when the awards for Best New Voice in Erotic Fiction and Poetry are handed out.
He's on his third glass of champagne when Kyungsoo pops in through a side door and motions toward him. "You have to get ready backstage," he whispers, dragging Baekhyun down the hall. "You have a speech prepared, right?"
"Speech?"
Kyungsoo's eyes go round as dinner plates. "Oh, for fuck's sake-whatever, you're good at talking about nothing, you'll be fine."
Baekhyun should be offended, but he's too busy being attacked with more make-up, and Kyungsoo disappears behind the thick curtains. A moment later, one of the stage crew guys hands him a heavy envelope with the winner of Erotic Novel of the Year enclosed inside it.
It's extremely bright on stage. The lights burn against the crown of his head. Baekhyun widens his smile so his eyes squint to accommodate, bowing with a long flourish as he gets to the podium. Jongdae wolf whistles from his seat before subsiding as Kyungsoo cuts him a sharp glare from his position near the eves.
"You know," Baekhyun begins, speaking into the microphone, "I originally wasn't planning on coming. I'm not really into these big fancy parties. I don't like dressing up. Collars are uncomfortable, unless they're-well. You know. Leather." He hears Chanyeol's loud groan over the ripple of laughter and tosses a smile in his direction. "But Kyungsoo threatened bodily harm, as he does, and I've been told that it's my duty as last year's winner-" smattering of applause, here, "thank you. I've been told that it's my duty to adhere to tradition." He looks down. The trophy's on the podium, two shimmering gold figures embracing. Baekhyun fiddles with the flap of the envelope before raising his head again. "I didn't start writing gay erotica as part of some bigger agenda, political or social or otherwise. I think most of us here can say that. Personally, I just wasn't finding enough out there that was good, and hot-no offense to those gathered here tonight that came before us, but, you know, I think we all have similar stories-and I thought, hey. This is something that I can do. And I like it, and it pays the bills well enough."
"Get on with it!" Jongdae yells from the seats, and Baekhyun flips him the bird from the podium. More laughter.
"That being said, I do think what we do can be important." He leans in closer to the microphone. "And it's why we're here today-not just because the food is great, or because we get to go to the sick after party downtown later-but because we want to celebrate the people that contribute in positive ways to this community and to the broader expanse of existing literature." Baekhyun grins. "And, you know. Because what they write is pretty fucking hot. So I'm genuinely pleased to present this year's award for Erotic Novel of the Year to Yixing Zhang, for Tears Airport."
Baekhyun's never actually met Yixing before. Contemporary gay erotica isn't exactly a huge circle, but it's big enough that there are people Baekhyun doesn't know, and Yixing's a bit more secluded because he doesn't put out as much regular work. From what Baekhyun could gather through the queer lit grapevine, Yixing was something of a dark horse on the shortlist that the awards committee had considered. Baekhyun's a bit surprised to see his name on the card in the envelope, but all that flies out the window when he turns to where Yixing's coming up the stairs of the stage and takes in the full weight of his broad smile, the way his waist tapers in the tailored tuxedo he's wearing, dark bangs sweeping to the side as he tosses his head. The shadow of a dimple cuts into the skin of his right cheek.
Oh no, Baekhyun thinks vacantly, head swimming as he reaches out to shake Yixing's hand. He's hot.
All he remembers of Yixing's acceptance speech is softly accented English and his blinding smile. It's a last award of the night, so they break for the after party when Baekhyun's finished guzzling his last flute of champagne. He and Jongdae end up in a booth at the back of the club clinking beers with Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. Baekhyun's fancy jacket is somewhere on the floor of Jongdae's car, bowtie hanging around his neck, the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone.
"I did good, didn't I?" Baekhyun asks over the loud music, nudging Kyungsoo's bare arm where he's rolled his sleeves up. "Aren't you proud?"
"You were adequate," Kyungsoo says around the rim of his beer. "I guess that's the best I could've hoped for."
"I'm touched, really." He laughs when Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. "So touched that I'll go get the next round of drinks."
He picks his way through the crush of people to get to the bar. Orders four shots of tequila, two more beers, and another mojito for Chanyeol. He's about to turn around to go back when someone's warm arm presses up against his. Yixing's teeth sparkle beneath the strobe lights as he smiles. "Any more where that came from?" he asks, leaning close to Baekhyun's ear so he can hear him better, and Baekhyun's throat goes tight.
Yixing's abandoned his tux jacket and his dress shirt in favor of a flimsy white undershirt that shows off his toned arms and leaves nothing to the imagination. Jesus Christ. "Congratulations," Baekhyun croaks, nodding at the trophy still clutched in Yixing's hand.
Yixing's dimple deepens. "Thanks," he says. "Where are you sitting?"
Baekhyun leads him back to their booth just as a server comes by with their fresh drinks. He slides in next to Baekhyun after a hearty round of handshaking and introduction, their thighs pressing together. Baekhyun's hand lands on Yixing's knee and moves up, and Yixing doesn't even flinch. "I loved your book," he tries, the corners of his lips rising.
Yixing looks at him sideways. "I bet you didn't even read it," he says, propping his head in a hand. "You don't have to be nice."
"Hey," Baekhyun says, a bit sharp. The hand on Yixing's knee squeezes. "I'm not just being nice."
"He really isn't," Jongdae puts in from across the table. "He exploits any weakness."
"Shut up, Jongdae." Baekhyun turns back to see Yixing gazing at him, eyes wide and-not exactly blank, but kind of spaced out. Like he's waiting for something to fill them in. "You don't need to hear me say this, but I thought it was an excellent coming-of-age story. And your main character was sweet, but-" He makes a v out of his thumb and index finger and tucks it under his chin. "I liked the cheeky best friend the most. For obvious reasons."
Kyungsoo clears his throat. "So vain."
Baekhyun claps Yixing on the shoulder. "Seriously, though. You deserved to win."
A fine flush spreads up from Yixing's neck across his face, and Baekhyun licks his lips. "Thank you," Yixing says, eyes crinkling as he beams.
"No problem," Baekhyun returns. To get the weird achy feeling in his gut to go away, he adds, "But just because you can write gay porn doesn't necessarily mean you're any good at it. Take Chanyeol, for example-"
"Fuck you, Baekhyun," Chanyeol says, good-natured, and feigns throwing the rest of his mojito in Baekhyun's face. "I'm excellent at sex, gay or otherwise."
Yixing snorts elegantly into his beer. "You guys are so funny," he says, and that dimple makes Baekhyun's stomach clench again.
Chanyeol is truly awful at dancing. Baekhyun doesn't know if he just makes Yixing look good at it by comparison or if he's actually good at dancing. Honestly, it doesn't really matter as long as it means Yixing will let Baekhyun scoot in close on the dance floor and grind up on him as much as he wants. Which he does, for the next hour they're at the club, because Yixing is a good person and a much better sport than Baekhyun could've anticipated, considering the demure exterior shit he'd been going for earlier.
Baekhyun's entire life philosophy is built upon being as forward as possible. It's scared quite a few people away, sure, but the strong survive-and Yixing seems perfectly at ease with Baekhyun's hands on his hips. He can't hear Yixing's laughter over the music, but through the hanging curtain of his bangs, Baekhyun can see it wrinkle Yixing's face whenever he reaches around to cop a feel.
He's sweat clean through his shirt by the time Yixing leans forward and asks, almost shy, "Can we get out of here?"
Baekhyun's mouth curls. "Absolutely." He loops his arm through Yixing's and pulls him through the crush of people. They swing by the booth in the back one more time to collect Yixing's trophy. Jongdae looks up from his conversation with Kyungsoo as they approach, eyebrows rising shrewdly. "We're off," Baekhyun says, fingers tightening around Yixing's elbow.
"Of course you are."
"Promise I'll return your clothes later." Baekhyun gives the table a little wave over his shoulder. "Have fun! Be good! Don't do anything I wouldn't."
"Is there anything he wouldn't do?" he thinks he hears Kyungsoo saying, but it melts too quickly into the roar of the crowd for him to be sure.
Yixing pushes the front door open for him. Figures Baekhyun'd be going home with a fucking gentleman-or so he thinks. They've barely made it out of the place when Yixing tugs Baekhyun in by the wrist and spins him around to kiss him, mouth hot and wet and beer-tinged, tongue sliding between Baekhyun's lips with intent. Baekhyun heats up like a firework, breath leaving him in a rush, fingers reaching out to clench in the damp material of Yixing's shirt. Some passing by on the street catcalls loudly. Baekhyun pulls back and gasps, "You said you lived close, right?"
Yixing pushes Baekhyun up against the wall in the stairwell of his building and holds him there to kiss him again, the bulky trophy trapped between them, like he can't wait until they've gotten up to his apartment to touch him. Yixing's mouth trails down to his neck, teeth worrying at the skin, and Baekhyun shivers, dick stirring in his pants. He angles his crotch so that it rubs against Yixing's leg.
"Please," Baekhyun says, and they fall up two flights of stairs and into Yixing's apartment. It's too dark to make much of anything out, but Yixing knows his way around, folds Baekhyun back against a squashy couch and settles into the cradle of Baekhyun's lap, strong thighs pushing up against his. For all his haste before, Yixing still kisses slow and patient. Meticlous. He holds Baekhyun down with ease when he tries to arch his spine and speed things up. Drags his tongue along the roof of Baekhyun's mouth until Baekhyun's chest feels tight and heavy, erection straining against his pants, arms pinned-as if Yixing would like nothing more than to just lie here all night and kiss Baekhyun until he can't feel his lips anymore.
His fingers work at the rest of the buttons on Baekhyun's dress shirt and push it back past his shoulders. A minute later, Yixing finally lets him go long enough to work both their pants off. Baekhyun lifts the hem of Yixing's tank shirt over his head and watches the line of his body ripple as Yixing tosses it aside.
"You're super hot," Baekhyun comments, grinning when Yixing pauses, head tilted to the side. "Like, it's kind of incredible, you're all toned and ripped and shit-"
"I guess you're always this talkative," Yixing cuts in, rooting around for his wallet and pulling a condom out of it.
"Yes," Baekhyun says. He makes a cheerful peace sign and waves it in Yixing's face. "It's my most attractive trait."
Yixing laughs quietly. He fishes lube from within the depths of the sofa and kisses Baekhyun to stop him from talking. "I wouldn't say that," he mumbles into Baekhyun's mouth, and starts dribbling slick lube over his dick and rubbing it against Baekhyun's crack.
He makes a noise of surprise when Baekhyun recaps the bottle and tosses it off into the darkness with a loud thunk. "I like it when it hurts a bit," he says carelessly.
Yixing's eyes flash in the dark. "Okay," he says. "Okay." Yixing's dick brushes along Baekhyun's asshole and Baekhyun clenches around nothing. He reaches up to drape his arms around Yixing's shoulders. "If you're sure."
"Oh, please," Baekhyun starts, rolling his eyes. "Do I have to give you a personal invitation? Mail you a card? Bedazzle my dick? Yixing, you're sweet, but we're already-ahhh"
Yixing pushes into him in one smooth motion. Baekhyun bites his lip against the burn, suddenly so full he can feel it topping off in his throat, the ache so sharp his muscles lock for a minute. His erection's still leaking against his stomach, untouched and hard as a board. Yixing presses his mouth into Baekhyun's sweaty temple and shifts inside him. "Sorry."
Baekhyun shakes his head and makes a high whimpering sound, tightens the arms around Yixing's shoulders to reel him closer. Yixing takes it as his cue to move and pulls out shallowly before sliding in at a different angle, the head of his dick rubbing along Baekhyun's prostate. Yixing's hips snap in time with the loud rush of blood in Baekhyun's ears, the slick passage easier as Baekhyun loosens up. He can feel himself flushing all over, thighs trembling as Yixing pushes them closer to his chest with every downward slam.
Baekhyun moans into the next searching kiss, fingers threading through Yixing's dark hair before dragging down toward his nape. Yixing inhales as Baekhyun's hands knead into his neck. He thrusts so hard Baekhyun's tailbone starts sinking into a crack in the couch. Yixing grabs Baekhyun's thighs to spread them further apart, fingernails biting into his flesh. Baekhyun's bent almost completely in half now, knees knocking against his collarbone as Yixing rocks into him. He's too strung out to vocalize anything anymore, too twisted up in himself to even move. All he can do is lie there and take what Yixing gives, the firm press of Yixing's cock inside him, warm lips mouthing at his jaw, the tip of his tongue flirting with the soft skin beneath Baekhyun's chin.
Yixing bows his head and scrapes his teeth across Baekhyun's neck, hard enough that Baekhyun feels his pulse leap, and it's game over-Baekhyun's toes curl as he comes without being touched at all, crown of his head jammed against the armrest of the sofa, chest heaving like a bellows. Yixing nibbles at his neck all through the aftershock, lips smoothing over the skin he's worrying at, and then he's coming too, arms bracketing Baekhyun's face, balanced rigidly above him.
Baekhyun brushes Yixing's hair out of his face as he collapses on top of him with a low grunt. "Am I still sweet?" Yixing asks, corner of his mouth jumping in between long breaths, and it takes Baekhyun a minute to realize what he's talking about.
He turns his face into the triangle of Yixing's clavicle and lets out a bark of laughter. "Yes," Baekhyun says. "Very. But it isn't a bad thing. Maybe your most attractive trait." When Yixing chuckles, Baekhyun feels the rumble in his entire body.
fin
A/N: i'm working on a longer au where baekhyun is a merman (shhhhhh i know) but it's like, LONG, and has plot, and i needed to practice zyx because ?? who is zyx ??
lord help me
Pairing: baekhyun/lay
Rating: nc17
Genre: au, mild romance, pwp
Warnings: swearing, sex (mildly under the influence)
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: baekhyun and yixing write queer lit for a living and meet at the yearly awards ceremony. this is all super gratuitous, I JUST WANTED TO WRITE PORN, etc. 3,630 words.
Last year, after Baekhyun won the annual Nobel Prize for gay literature or whatever, he hadn't known it meant he'd have to primp himself up for next year's ceremony. Well-maybe they had told him, and he'd conveniently been too drunk from the celebratory festivities to remember. "Yes," Kyungsoo says testily over the phone when he calls Baekhyun about the arrangements. "This is how it's always been done. The previous winner presents the award to the next person. So no, you can't come in jeans and a hoodie like you did last time. I swear to God, Baekhyun, I won't let you in the building."
"You can present the award for me in absentia, then," Baekhyun mutters, fluffing his hair and kicking the sheets off the bed. "No big deal."
Predictably, Kyungsoo starts squawking in his ear about the importance of tradition and values. As if tradition actually belonged in a conversation about an award show celebrating erotica. Baekhyun puts him on speaker as he shuffles into the kitchenette and swings the freezer door open, squinting against the blast of cold air.
In the end he agrees to go, if only so it'll get Kyungsoo off his back. Hell has no fury like an angry event planner, especially not one who's got zero qualms about choking the shit out of Baekhyun if it means he'll get his way. Besides, the catering and the company are usually pretty good at these things. Another consecutive Saturday night spent alone, curled around his coffee pot and staring at the blinking cursor in his latest project, is too bleak to contemplate. Feels like he's been working on the goddamn thing for decades, and all he has to show for it are a bunch of stupid puns about how big the main protag's flippers are. No one wants to read an off-color reimagining of the Little Mermaid.
Baekhyun rips the cardboard packaging off his TV dinner and loads it in the microwave, finger tapping at his mouth. His writing's only ever as good as the source, and. Well. He doesn't want to think about how long it's been since he got laid. Last year, after the ceremony, he'd gone home with some kid with dark eyes and an amazing ass, and he'd been dressed in a frumpy hoodie two sizes too big for him and a pair of jeans he's owned since college.
Better luck this time, Baekhyun thinks drily as the timer on the microwave goes off, and promptly burns the palm of his right hand on the plastic.
Jongdae knocks his door down Saturday afternoon to drag him to some upscale salon in Midtown. "Unless you want to do your hair yourself," he says, gaze flicking up to settle on the bird's nest of Baekhyun's bedhead. "I doubt it, though."
"Saturday is supposed to be for sleeping," Baekhyun croaks, "and it's just hair," but he lets Jongdae pull a jacket around his shoulders and lead him out anyway.
"Liyin swears by this place," he says as they step through the door.
Baekhyun gags at the first whiff of bleach. He plops into one of the swivel chairs next to Jongdae, who's already chatting happily to one of the hairdressers. Grilling her about the particulars of her job. Jongdae's one of those plucky creative types who literally writes what he knows-his latest series of novellas tended to revolve around sexual relationships between older women and younger dudes-so he must be doing research or something. Talk about ulterior motives.
Baekhyun dozes off in the middle of the shampoo scrub but jolts awake again when Jongdae kicks his foot and hisses, "Hey, do you even own a suit? For tonight?"
"Sure I do," Baekhyun says automatically, but the last time he wore something even remotely business casual had been at his brother's wedding, three years gone.
"It's fine," Jongdae says, rolling his eyes. The hairdresser yanks him back to sit properly as she trims his bangs and he swallows a yelp. "Anyway, don't worry, I anticipated this."
When they've finished spritzing Baekhyun's updo with enough product to cement it in place, Jongdae walks out to the car and comes back with a freshly dry-cleaned tux in each hand.
"Might be a little tight around the shoulders," he says, tossing the black one in Baekhyun's lap. "But we're basically the same size, so it should work for the night."
"I owe you," Baekhyun says fervently. He runs a hand over the plastic wrapping and jumps with alarm as a make-up lady slides in and starts attacking his face with blush. His eyes close on instinct, the brush tickling his nose. He sneezes twice.
"Yeah, dude," comes Jongdae's voice. "You really do."
"I could suck your dick as recompense," Baekhyun offers, grinning, and flinches when he feels a hard flick to his forehead.
"Alright, keep it in your pants," Jongdae says, but he's laughing.
Kyungsoo looks like he might cry of relief when he sees Baekhyun walk into the reception hall with Jongdae. As much as someone like Kyungsoo can look relieved, anyway, considering the spectrum of emotion he's shown Baekhyun over the years ranges from mild annoyance to out to kill. "You came," Kyungsoo says. He steps up to adjust Baekhyun's crooked bowtie. "You don't look like a bum. Incredible."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Baekhyun says, folding a hand over his heart.
They take seats at a table near the front of the room. Everything is very classy and sterile, which only makes Baekhyun wants to mess shit up. Unfortunately, as a guest of honor, he's supposed to set an example, whatever that means. This really isn't what he signed up for when he decided he wanted to write tasteful gay porn. He folds his hands in his lap but can't stop the jiggle in his leg until Jongdae casts him a look in the middle of the opening remarks from the host-Chanyeol Park, this year-and presses a meaningful hand to his thigh.
Baekhyun focuses on cramming his face full of food after that. There's a round of polite clapping as a lifetime achievement award goes to some old white dude who delivers a long rambling speech before getting played off the stage. The applause is more genuine when the awards for Best New Voice in Erotic Fiction and Poetry are handed out.
He's on his third glass of champagne when Kyungsoo pops in through a side door and motions toward him. "You have to get ready backstage," he whispers, dragging Baekhyun down the hall. "You have a speech prepared, right?"
"Speech?"
Kyungsoo's eyes go round as dinner plates. "Oh, for fuck's sake-whatever, you're good at talking about nothing, you'll be fine."
Baekhyun should be offended, but he's too busy being attacked with more make-up, and Kyungsoo disappears behind the thick curtains. A moment later, one of the stage crew guys hands him a heavy envelope with the winner of Erotic Novel of the Year enclosed inside it.
It's extremely bright on stage. The lights burn against the crown of his head. Baekhyun widens his smile so his eyes squint to accommodate, bowing with a long flourish as he gets to the podium. Jongdae wolf whistles from his seat before subsiding as Kyungsoo cuts him a sharp glare from his position near the eves.
"You know," Baekhyun begins, speaking into the microphone, "I originally wasn't planning on coming. I'm not really into these big fancy parties. I don't like dressing up. Collars are uncomfortable, unless they're-well. You know. Leather." He hears Chanyeol's loud groan over the ripple of laughter and tosses a smile in his direction. "But Kyungsoo threatened bodily harm, as he does, and I've been told that it's my duty as last year's winner-" smattering of applause, here, "thank you. I've been told that it's my duty to adhere to tradition." He looks down. The trophy's on the podium, two shimmering gold figures embracing. Baekhyun fiddles with the flap of the envelope before raising his head again. "I didn't start writing gay erotica as part of some bigger agenda, political or social or otherwise. I think most of us here can say that. Personally, I just wasn't finding enough out there that was good, and hot-no offense to those gathered here tonight that came before us, but, you know, I think we all have similar stories-and I thought, hey. This is something that I can do. And I like it, and it pays the bills well enough."
"Get on with it!" Jongdae yells from the seats, and Baekhyun flips him the bird from the podium. More laughter.
"That being said, I do think what we do can be important." He leans in closer to the microphone. "And it's why we're here today-not just because the food is great, or because we get to go to the sick after party downtown later-but because we want to celebrate the people that contribute in positive ways to this community and to the broader expanse of existing literature." Baekhyun grins. "And, you know. Because what they write is pretty fucking hot. So I'm genuinely pleased to present this year's award for Erotic Novel of the Year to Yixing Zhang, for Tears Airport."
Baekhyun's never actually met Yixing before. Contemporary gay erotica isn't exactly a huge circle, but it's big enough that there are people Baekhyun doesn't know, and Yixing's a bit more secluded because he doesn't put out as much regular work. From what Baekhyun could gather through the queer lit grapevine, Yixing was something of a dark horse on the shortlist that the awards committee had considered. Baekhyun's a bit surprised to see his name on the card in the envelope, but all that flies out the window when he turns to where Yixing's coming up the stairs of the stage and takes in the full weight of his broad smile, the way his waist tapers in the tailored tuxedo he's wearing, dark bangs sweeping to the side as he tosses his head. The shadow of a dimple cuts into the skin of his right cheek.
Oh no, Baekhyun thinks vacantly, head swimming as he reaches out to shake Yixing's hand. He's hot.
All he remembers of Yixing's acceptance speech is softly accented English and his blinding smile. It's a last award of the night, so they break for the after party when Baekhyun's finished guzzling his last flute of champagne. He and Jongdae end up in a booth at the back of the club clinking beers with Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. Baekhyun's fancy jacket is somewhere on the floor of Jongdae's car, bowtie hanging around his neck, the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone.
"I did good, didn't I?" Baekhyun asks over the loud music, nudging Kyungsoo's bare arm where he's rolled his sleeves up. "Aren't you proud?"
"You were adequate," Kyungsoo says around the rim of his beer. "I guess that's the best I could've hoped for."
"I'm touched, really." He laughs when Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. "So touched that I'll go get the next round of drinks."
He picks his way through the crush of people to get to the bar. Orders four shots of tequila, two more beers, and another mojito for Chanyeol. He's about to turn around to go back when someone's warm arm presses up against his. Yixing's teeth sparkle beneath the strobe lights as he smiles. "Any more where that came from?" he asks, leaning close to Baekhyun's ear so he can hear him better, and Baekhyun's throat goes tight.
Yixing's abandoned his tux jacket and his dress shirt in favor of a flimsy white undershirt that shows off his toned arms and leaves nothing to the imagination. Jesus Christ. "Congratulations," Baekhyun croaks, nodding at the trophy still clutched in Yixing's hand.
Yixing's dimple deepens. "Thanks," he says. "Where are you sitting?"
Baekhyun leads him back to their booth just as a server comes by with their fresh drinks. He slides in next to Baekhyun after a hearty round of handshaking and introduction, their thighs pressing together. Baekhyun's hand lands on Yixing's knee and moves up, and Yixing doesn't even flinch. "I loved your book," he tries, the corners of his lips rising.
Yixing looks at him sideways. "I bet you didn't even read it," he says, propping his head in a hand. "You don't have to be nice."
"Hey," Baekhyun says, a bit sharp. The hand on Yixing's knee squeezes. "I'm not just being nice."
"He really isn't," Jongdae puts in from across the table. "He exploits any weakness."
"Shut up, Jongdae." Baekhyun turns back to see Yixing gazing at him, eyes wide and-not exactly blank, but kind of spaced out. Like he's waiting for something to fill them in. "You don't need to hear me say this, but I thought it was an excellent coming-of-age story. And your main character was sweet, but-" He makes a v out of his thumb and index finger and tucks it under his chin. "I liked the cheeky best friend the most. For obvious reasons."
Kyungsoo clears his throat. "So vain."
Baekhyun claps Yixing on the shoulder. "Seriously, though. You deserved to win."
A fine flush spreads up from Yixing's neck across his face, and Baekhyun licks his lips. "Thank you," Yixing says, eyes crinkling as he beams.
"No problem," Baekhyun returns. To get the weird achy feeling in his gut to go away, he adds, "But just because you can write gay porn doesn't necessarily mean you're any good at it. Take Chanyeol, for example-"
"Fuck you, Baekhyun," Chanyeol says, good-natured, and feigns throwing the rest of his mojito in Baekhyun's face. "I'm excellent at sex, gay or otherwise."
Yixing snorts elegantly into his beer. "You guys are so funny," he says, and that dimple makes Baekhyun's stomach clench again.
Chanyeol is truly awful at dancing. Baekhyun doesn't know if he just makes Yixing look good at it by comparison or if he's actually good at dancing. Honestly, it doesn't really matter as long as it means Yixing will let Baekhyun scoot in close on the dance floor and grind up on him as much as he wants. Which he does, for the next hour they're at the club, because Yixing is a good person and a much better sport than Baekhyun could've anticipated, considering the demure exterior shit he'd been going for earlier.
Baekhyun's entire life philosophy is built upon being as forward as possible. It's scared quite a few people away, sure, but the strong survive-and Yixing seems perfectly at ease with Baekhyun's hands on his hips. He can't hear Yixing's laughter over the music, but through the hanging curtain of his bangs, Baekhyun can see it wrinkle Yixing's face whenever he reaches around to cop a feel.
He's sweat clean through his shirt by the time Yixing leans forward and asks, almost shy, "Can we get out of here?"
Baekhyun's mouth curls. "Absolutely." He loops his arm through Yixing's and pulls him through the crush of people. They swing by the booth in the back one more time to collect Yixing's trophy. Jongdae looks up from his conversation with Kyungsoo as they approach, eyebrows rising shrewdly. "We're off," Baekhyun says, fingers tightening around Yixing's elbow.
"Of course you are."
"Promise I'll return your clothes later." Baekhyun gives the table a little wave over his shoulder. "Have fun! Be good! Don't do anything I wouldn't."
"Is there anything he wouldn't do?" he thinks he hears Kyungsoo saying, but it melts too quickly into the roar of the crowd for him to be sure.
Yixing pushes the front door open for him. Figures Baekhyun'd be going home with a fucking gentleman-or so he thinks. They've barely made it out of the place when Yixing tugs Baekhyun in by the wrist and spins him around to kiss him, mouth hot and wet and beer-tinged, tongue sliding between Baekhyun's lips with intent. Baekhyun heats up like a firework, breath leaving him in a rush, fingers reaching out to clench in the damp material of Yixing's shirt. Some passing by on the street catcalls loudly. Baekhyun pulls back and gasps, "You said you lived close, right?"
Yixing pushes Baekhyun up against the wall in the stairwell of his building and holds him there to kiss him again, the bulky trophy trapped between them, like he can't wait until they've gotten up to his apartment to touch him. Yixing's mouth trails down to his neck, teeth worrying at the skin, and Baekhyun shivers, dick stirring in his pants. He angles his crotch so that it rubs against Yixing's leg.
"Please," Baekhyun says, and they fall up two flights of stairs and into Yixing's apartment. It's too dark to make much of anything out, but Yixing knows his way around, folds Baekhyun back against a squashy couch and settles into the cradle of Baekhyun's lap, strong thighs pushing up against his. For all his haste before, Yixing still kisses slow and patient. Meticlous. He holds Baekhyun down with ease when he tries to arch his spine and speed things up. Drags his tongue along the roof of Baekhyun's mouth until Baekhyun's chest feels tight and heavy, erection straining against his pants, arms pinned-as if Yixing would like nothing more than to just lie here all night and kiss Baekhyun until he can't feel his lips anymore.
His fingers work at the rest of the buttons on Baekhyun's dress shirt and push it back past his shoulders. A minute later, Yixing finally lets him go long enough to work both their pants off. Baekhyun lifts the hem of Yixing's tank shirt over his head and watches the line of his body ripple as Yixing tosses it aside.
"You're super hot," Baekhyun comments, grinning when Yixing pauses, head tilted to the side. "Like, it's kind of incredible, you're all toned and ripped and shit-"
"I guess you're always this talkative," Yixing cuts in, rooting around for his wallet and pulling a condom out of it.
"Yes," Baekhyun says. He makes a cheerful peace sign and waves it in Yixing's face. "It's my most attractive trait."
Yixing laughs quietly. He fishes lube from within the depths of the sofa and kisses Baekhyun to stop him from talking. "I wouldn't say that," he mumbles into Baekhyun's mouth, and starts dribbling slick lube over his dick and rubbing it against Baekhyun's crack.
He makes a noise of surprise when Baekhyun recaps the bottle and tosses it off into the darkness with a loud thunk. "I like it when it hurts a bit," he says carelessly.
Yixing's eyes flash in the dark. "Okay," he says. "Okay." Yixing's dick brushes along Baekhyun's asshole and Baekhyun clenches around nothing. He reaches up to drape his arms around Yixing's shoulders. "If you're sure."
"Oh, please," Baekhyun starts, rolling his eyes. "Do I have to give you a personal invitation? Mail you a card? Bedazzle my dick? Yixing, you're sweet, but we're already-ahhh"
Yixing pushes into him in one smooth motion. Baekhyun bites his lip against the burn, suddenly so full he can feel it topping off in his throat, the ache so sharp his muscles lock for a minute. His erection's still leaking against his stomach, untouched and hard as a board. Yixing presses his mouth into Baekhyun's sweaty temple and shifts inside him. "Sorry."
Baekhyun shakes his head and makes a high whimpering sound, tightens the arms around Yixing's shoulders to reel him closer. Yixing takes it as his cue to move and pulls out shallowly before sliding in at a different angle, the head of his dick rubbing along Baekhyun's prostate. Yixing's hips snap in time with the loud rush of blood in Baekhyun's ears, the slick passage easier as Baekhyun loosens up. He can feel himself flushing all over, thighs trembling as Yixing pushes them closer to his chest with every downward slam.
Baekhyun moans into the next searching kiss, fingers threading through Yixing's dark hair before dragging down toward his nape. Yixing inhales as Baekhyun's hands knead into his neck. He thrusts so hard Baekhyun's tailbone starts sinking into a crack in the couch. Yixing grabs Baekhyun's thighs to spread them further apart, fingernails biting into his flesh. Baekhyun's bent almost completely in half now, knees knocking against his collarbone as Yixing rocks into him. He's too strung out to vocalize anything anymore, too twisted up in himself to even move. All he can do is lie there and take what Yixing gives, the firm press of Yixing's cock inside him, warm lips mouthing at his jaw, the tip of his tongue flirting with the soft skin beneath Baekhyun's chin.
Yixing bows his head and scrapes his teeth across Baekhyun's neck, hard enough that Baekhyun feels his pulse leap, and it's game over-Baekhyun's toes curl as he comes without being touched at all, crown of his head jammed against the armrest of the sofa, chest heaving like a bellows. Yixing nibbles at his neck all through the aftershock, lips smoothing over the skin he's worrying at, and then he's coming too, arms bracketing Baekhyun's face, balanced rigidly above him.
Baekhyun brushes Yixing's hair out of his face as he collapses on top of him with a low grunt. "Am I still sweet?" Yixing asks, corner of his mouth jumping in between long breaths, and it takes Baekhyun a minute to realize what he's talking about.
He turns his face into the triangle of Yixing's clavicle and lets out a bark of laughter. "Yes," Baekhyun says. "Very. But it isn't a bad thing. Maybe your most attractive trait." When Yixing chuckles, Baekhyun feels the rumble in his entire body.
fin
A/N: i'm working on a longer au where baekhyun is a merman (shhhhhh i know) but it's like, LONG, and has plot, and i needed to practice zyx because ?? who is zyx ??
lord help me