play date [exo]
title: play date {girlsau}
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: nc-17
pairing(s): xiuhan
summary: luhan comes over
a/n: look who breaking her hiatus right before finals. yes. so. i thought this was gon be the one where they have sex but too bad it's not. im saving that for ur christmas present. so. 3 more weeks until i m on winter break thank.
“-your own partners,” their teacher finishes, sitting back down in her chair. “So, while I take attendance headcount of who’s working with who.” She disappears behind her computer screen, then, peering out, you can get started on that. Get in line for the sign-up sheet I have here so I’ll have a every once in a while to get everyone’s faces so she can mark them absent or present.
Luhan turns to Wufan just in time to see Wufan scramble out of his seat, nearly knocking the entire desk over with his oversized frame. “Do you want to-” Luhan begins before he realizes that Wufan has already situated himself in the empty seat beside Yixing. From the way Wufan is sliding his chair close enough that he can rest his long arms over Yixing’s desk, leaning his head on one palm and smiling at Yixing through his lashes, Luhan supposes that Wufan isn’t going to be Luhan’s partner for this project.
His next choice was going to be Junmyeon, naturally, but as smart as Junmyeon is, Luhan doesn’t really want to work with Junmyeon because Junmyeon would have them do everything the honorable, honor-student way and Luhan just wanted to steal Wufan’s outlines because Yixing would always make the best outlines. Plus, Junmyeon is smart, but not quite as smart as-
“Luhan-ah,” Minseok’s voice today, when she turns in her chair to face Luhan, is somehow even higher and sweeter and clearer than usual. Her little hands curl over the back of the seat, round eyes somehow even rounder today, blinking them at Luhan as he tries not to think about how she’s left at least four of the top buttons of her shirt unbuttoned so that he can see shadows of cleavage leading down from the dip in her sweater vest when she leans forward. “D’you want-”
“Yes!” Luhan says, embarrassingly fast and his ears might be a little red, but then again the school had just turned on the heaters starting today. Luhan is still getting used to the temperature change.
Minseok’s eyes curve up, cheeks bunching and gums flashing and the whole parade charade that Luhan now lumps together as one big Chain Reaction, resulting usually in his own happy downfall. “Yay,” Minseok says, and Luhan thinks that that might be sarcasm in her dancing eyes but that’s probably just Wufan’s cynicism catching on.
Luhan likes to think that he and Minseok are friends now.
He hangs out with her even when Wufan and Junmyeon (previously, the third party links between Luhan to Minseok) aren’t around to bridge them together. Minseok always likes to come early to class when she can help it because, Luhan’s noticed and Wufan has stated, that even though Minseok seems like that, she really is a good student-frighteningly meticulous and diligent. And Luhan has always been the sort of student that slides into class just as the bell rings, neither late nor early, but he supposes that sprinting through the halls and skipping a trip to his locker is worth getting to class at the same time that Minseok does.
Not many people are ever in the classroom yet at that time, except for the teacher (and sometimes even the teacher is still in the teachers’ lounge refilling on coffee). So it’s just Luhan and Minseok alone, and sometimes they talk and sometimes Luhan sneaks a kiss on her mouth, and sometimes she sits in his lap and has him test her on the polyatomic ions they need to know for the quiz today.
(and sometimes, if they’re there early enough and the blinds are closed and the door is closed and not many people are passing by in the hall, Minseok sits on the edge of a desk and lets Luhan pull her panties down until they dangle at her ankles-and she’ll droop her legs over his shoulders and she’ll let his face settle between her thighs and she’ll let him lick the wet warmth pooling inside of her until they hear footsteps approach the door)
Luhan thinks that he and Minseok are definitely friends now.
He gets the text with Minseok’s address on Friday during a literature-turned-study-hall because their teacher is out sick today. All it has is her address and that he should meet her there on Saturday morning, but that’s how all texts are with Minseok. Luhan can scroll up through their previous conversations, all of them just meeting places and times and occasionally questions about homework and due dates. Wufan and even Junmyeon, who’s known Minseok for as long as they were old enough to have cell phones, confirmed that that’s just Kim Minseok.
Luhan thought it was an interesting quirk-especially since he’d originally expected Minseok to be the sort to text with an onslaught of emoticons a la Huang Zitao who texts only with emoticons.
“Have you ever been to her house?” Luhan asks Wufan, proudly thrusting his phone screen in the other boy’s face.
Wufan’s head backs up into his neck, face contorting and shrinking away from Luhan’s phone as if the device was a particularly nasty sea cucumber. “No,” he says, scooting away and ushering the translated play they’re supposed to be reading (because Wufan is one of those sticklers who actually does the work assigned during the teacher’s absence) away from Luhan’s general direction. “Junmyeon has, though.”
“Do angels sing when you walk through the door?” Luhan sighs, holding the phone at arm’s length and gazing dreamily at the numbers of Minseok’s apartment.
“If Lucifer still counts,” Wufan says, turning the page, “then yes.”
Saturday morning, Luhan wakes up three hours before he needs to meet Minseok because he feels like he needs two-and-a-half hours to prepare. Wufan seems to feel that Luhan needs to go about blow-drying his hair either in a quieter manner or in somewhere that isn’t their bedroom and says as much in a croaky Wu-Yifan-morning-voice that sets Luhan into a peal of giggles so hysterical that Zitao bursts into their room from across the hall, in the usual bra and panties that she sleeps in, with an overnight gel-mask, screeching about how they are the reason her dark circles have worsened.
By the time Luhan gets himself out of the house in one piece, Wufan has already downed two Advils on an empty stomach and Zitao has changed gel-masks three more times. He bids both of them goodbye with Zitao winking at him (still in her bra and panties), and Wufan flipping him off without a last glance. Yixing is already downstairs, awake and eating breakfast that he probably made himself, and Luhan snags an egg roll because Yixing makes fairly decent egg rolls.
Minseok’s house is a bus ride away, but the weather is nice enough (and Luhan is running early enough) that he decides to walk the distance instead. He walks as slowly as possible, laptop against his side and bag balanced on his other shoulder, but when he finally reaches Minseok’s apartment complex, takes the elevator up, and arrives at the intercom, his phone still tells him he’s nearly two hours early.
He rings anyway.
“Who is it?” and it’s Minseok’s voice, bright and high and lilting at the end in the way that always makes Luhan flush.
Luhan leans in. “Just me,” he says, and makes sure that she can see his face in the screen.
He hears the latch click, and the door opens. “Oh,” Minseok breathes, blinking, “you’re really early.” She steps aside to let him in. “I didn’t even put pants on yet.”
And Luhan can see that-he can see that there aren’t even shorts over her thighs, just peachy pink panties that peek out from underneath the hem of a billowing, white t-shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off and the sides slit low enough that the baby blue band of her bra is clearly visible when she moves her arms. Minseok’s short hair is piled up on her head, held together by little multicolored, pastel stars.
He swallows dryly.
“Should I-” he makes a flailing sort of gesture towards somewhere-wherever her bedroom might be. “So you can-you know-pants?”
She waves an absent hand, leading him through the kitchen, through the living room and towards the room that, even on the door, has soccer posters and other memorabilia tacked onto it. “It’s okay,” she ushers him into her room and closes the door with a deciding snap behind them. He stares as she flicks on the lock. “You don’t mind, right?” she asks, turning back to him with a smile.
“No,” he says, maybe too quickly but she won’t notice probably-hopefully. “No, it’s fine.”
He isn’t sure what he expected, but Minseok’s room is a little different than what he’d thought it to look like. He imagined a few soccer posters, a few band posters maybe-but the walls were covered from ceiling to floor with monuments-some that Luhan recognized, some that Luhan didn’t. Both buildings that looked like they were picked out of a fairytale and buildings that looked like they’d been taken from a movie set centuries into the future. There weren’t only photographs and paintings of these buildings, but plans-blueprints, some of them with Minseok’s handwriting in the margins. Occasionally, Luhan saw them interspersed with strange photographs of coffee beans and instruments that he supposed would be used in an antiquated way of coffee-making.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Minseok’s voice jerks him out of the reverie brought on by staring too hard and possibly too long at a photograph of a twirling, psychedelic sort of glass staircase. “I can build you one someday.” She plops onto her bed, the mattress bouncing as she spreads her legs out in front of her over the white and blue sheets.
Luhan puts his laptop case on the edge of the mattress and drops his backpack to the floor. He sits across from her on the bed and takes another sweeping glance around the room. “It looks scary to climb,” he says with a small smile. “I don’t like heights.”
If anything, Minseok seems to brighten further, the corners of her mouth curving upward. “Everyone thinks tall buildings are the prettiest,” she says, “but there’re lots of ones close to the ground that are really pretty too. I’ll build you the best one.”
He finds himself laughing, softly into the back of his hand as his eyes crinkle until he can no longer see Minseok’s expression for a moment. When the laughter subsides, Minseok’s face is a little too close to his own, the distance between them closed in the few seconds it took for Luhan to compose himself. Instead of sitting back against the headboard, Minseok is on her knees in front of Luhan, hands on his thighs to balance herself. He can see down her shirt, down her bra-the soft, pale breasts that he’s had his mouth on before.
She leans forward just a little more, just to finish off the space between their lips-a short, brisk kiss before she bounces back away from him and promptly pulls his laptop between them. He blinks at her as she pats the cover of his laptop with a grin. “Let’s start,” she giggles.
They work on the project for three hours before they get hungry and Minseok wanders off into the kitchen to get food for them-leftovers from yesterday because her parents are both out for the weekend and her little sister is sleeping over at a friend’s. None of it actually gets eaten because when Minseok comes back, she puts the food down on her desk, climbs back onto the bed, into Luhan’s lap, and they make-out for twenty-six minutes.
They only pull away when Luhan’s stomach grumbles and Minseok laughs against his mouth, falling back and reaching to her desk to hand over a plate of boiled eggs and messy riceballs.
From there, they manage to stomach another hour and a half on the project until Luhan kicks away his laptop and buries his face into one of Minseok’s pillows, groaning into it because his eyes ache from four hours straight of staring at the screen. He’s grateful that Minseok doesn’t comment on how she knows Luhan has played a straight nine hours of soccer games on the television in Junmyeon’s basement before.
“Pussy,” is what she says to him instead. He turns his head against the pillow and watches her finish up the research on her own laptop. She’s put on her glasses now, big-framed affairs that make her face look even tinier than it already is. Since they’ve started (and possibly because of his fingers running through it when they’d kissed), her hair has fallen out of the little clips, curling in wisps around her full cheeks. The afternoon sunlight is intensely bright through the blinds, shining into the room and making Minseok’s skin appear even paler and softer.
Luhan yawns, his early wake-up getting to him now that it’s past noon. “You’re really pretty,” he says sleepily.
She pauses with her finger still on the mousepad, glancing at him. “You just want sex,” she says airily.
He grins. “Maybe.”
“But I’m already doing most of the work,” Minseok points out, cheeks gathering air and pink lips pouting. Their eyes meet, staring at each other over the two laptops and pillows, and when it becomes clear that Minseok doesn’t seem to be planning to break the gaze first, Luhan looks away finally-looks down and straightens up into a sitting position. He raises his legs, spreading them before he glances up to look at Minseok at the same time that he reaches forward and takes her waist in his hands.
Her peal of laughter is delighted when he pulls her towards him, resting her between his legs and opening her thighs so that they frame his hips. She’s still lying on her back, so Luhan has to lean forward and over to kiss her-a short, nothing-kiss that barely ghosts over her lips. Minseok’s shirt has ridden up, from when he pulled her towards him, up over her thighs and stomach, and when he presses his mouth against the skin of her tummy, she strokes a hand through his hair.
“Did you know,” Minseok says, as Luhan hooks his thumbs into the sides of her panties and shimmies them down over her thighs, past her ankles, and tosses them over the side of the bed, “that you’re a good kisser?”
Luhan presses himself between her thighs again to do just that-tongue sweeping into her mouth this time until she makes a high, little noise in the back of her throat and pushes him away laughing breathlessly. “Who ‘m I better than?” he asks playfully.
She cups his face with her tiny hands. “Junmyeonie,” she says, “and Jonginie, and everyone’s better than Park Chanyeol.” Then she shakes her head and adds, “But not Kyungsoo. He’s too good.”
And maybe, at any other time, this would’ve sent Luhan into some sort of panic attack wherein Wufan would have to give him a paper bag to breathe into because on some sort of level, Luhan has always known that every male friend Minseok has, at one point or another, must have been in a similar position to Luhan. But for some reason, for now, right now, with Minseok warm and pliant and soft and eager between his legs and in his arms, none of that really registers to him-he isn’t really bothered by it.
“Mm,” Luhan takes her hands away from his face and intertwines their fingers. He pulls her up with a gentle yank that has her sitting up in one fast movement, his arm catching her waist, and at the sudden increase in proximity, at having their faces so close so abruptly, Minseok smiles broadly-little bouts of laughter escaping her as he kisses her breathless again. “What if I practice enough? Think it’s possible?”
He slips one hand beneath the large t-shirt, gripping the hem and pulling it up and over her head. She shakes it off until it falls onto the mattress, knocking her glasses off along with it and probably several clips. “No,” she deadpans, and it lasts all of two seconds before her expression breaks into a smile again-flushed lips curling up over pink gums as her arms twine around Luhan’s neck.
But Luhan untangles her arms from his neck, and lays her back down on the bed. Her eyes move from playful to curious and she squirms slightly against him-the motion causing one of her bra straps to slide off her shoulder. He presses down against her again, close enough until he can feel her breasts against his chest and she squirms even harder, hands on his cheeks. Luhan knows she’s uncomfortably wet now with an even more uncomfortable ache between her thighs.
“Sure?” Luhan whispers teasingly against her ear, kissing her cheek.
“Luhan-ah,” and she draws his name out like a whine, fingernails digging slightly into his arms. Her body is arching, and when he presses two fingers against her, slick and wet and warm, another needy noise escapes from her. He goes ahead and slips both fingers into her, not moving them, just having them there and letting her pump herself against them as he pushes up her bra over her breasts with his other hand. He hasn’t unclasped it, just leaving it to push her breasts down and together, nipples erect and swollen for him to cover with his lips and tongue.
Minseok might’ve sobbed-might’ve buried her hands in Luhan’s hair and tried to get him to stop because it was too much, the way he mouthed over her skin.
He comes up to kiss her again, and now he adds a third finger and starts moving them to the rhythm that she’s already set for herself. Her kisses are coming open-mouthed and sloppy and she nearly bites down on his lip when he scissors his fingers and brushes the fingers of his other hands over her nipples again. He finds her clit with his thumb, his other three fingers stilling just so he can rub circles into that spot until she’s writhing left and right, coming too easily, hot and pulsing against his hand.
Luhan doesn’t take his fingers out even as she clenches around them, gasping through her orgasm and sighing as she comes down, eyes fluttering at the ceiling. She’s still so wet that it’s slicked onto the insides of her thighs now and all over his hand. He reaches behind her arched back to unhook her bra, kissing around her breasts everywhere but where her nipples are still oversensitive and peaked. It’s just a little thing that he loves-having her completely naked while he’s still completely clothed-having it so that she’s wet and squirming and coming all over his hand while he’s still hard and untouched.
He hopes she doesn’t mind.
Her cheeks are flushed as their gazes connect and she reaches her arms up towards him. She’s breathing so hard that his name just comes out as “-han-ah,” but he already knows exactly what she wants. He scoops her up into his lap, into his arms and she happily wraps her own around his neck again so that they’re pressed together-her bare skin against the cotton of his shirt.
She kisses his cheek, and Luhan strokes her hair back away from her face. “That was so cool,” she grins, looking absolutely pink and exhilarated and if Luhan loses a little bit of himself in her eyes, no one has to know.
“Am I better than Kyungsoo now?” Luhan jokes, and he loves the feeling of cradling Minseok in his arms-being able to feel soft, smooth skin against the bare skin of his own arms and-
“What.”
Minseok’s head whips around faster than Luhan’s, fast enough that even as short as her hair is, some of it hits Luhan in the face.
Luhan turns his head slower, because he recognizes the voice and he thinks maybe if he doesn’t look, he won’t turn into stone.
“Noona,” and Kyungsoo stands in the open-faced doorway that leads out to Minseok’s balcony, a rosy cactus balanced in one hand and a textbook in his other. His large eyes find Luhan, and the older boy feels the air crackle icily around himself (and he doesn’t want to think Kyungsoo is a dementor because that’s childish and stupid but). “Noona, why’re you naked?”
Minseok angles herself around in Luhan’s lap so she faces Kyungsoo. “Oh,” she says cheerily, “Luhan was fingering me.”
Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow, knitting together in the middle as his full lips dip into a frown as he takes in Luhan.
Luhan needs a paper bag.
“Noona,” Kyungsoo says, looking away from Luhan in a manner that made Luhan feel like a hideous slug, “I need help with stat.”
“Okay,” Minseok says, rolling off of Luhan and reaching for her t-shirt. She slips it over her head and leaves her bra and panties untouched. Luhan takes that as his immediate cue to gather his laptop and start packing up his books. He packs faster the nearer Kyungsoo approaches. “Sorry,” she whispers at Luhan, hopping off the bed and handing him the rest of his books. “I forgot I offered to help him with problems today.”
Luhan shakes his head profusely, and continues to try not to make eye contact with Kyungsoo. He’s certain that on any other day Kyungsoo normally doesn’t hate Luhan, but today, Luhan feels as though the spikes on that cactus honestly could end up embedded somewhere in Luhan’s body. “It’s fine,” he says, and he’s just quite surprised when Minseok tiptoes up to kiss Luhan, briefly but warmly on the lips before she ushers him out of her bedroom.
“Next Saturday,” she says, leading him back to the front door to see him off, “let’s work at your place.” She smiles.
“Sure,” Luhan says, and hopes that Wufan still has those paper bags.
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: nc-17
pairing(s): xiuhan
summary: luhan comes over
a/n: look who breaking her hiatus right before finals. yes. so. i thought this was gon be the one where they have sex but too bad it's not. im saving that for ur christmas present. so. 3 more weeks until i m on winter break thank.
“-your own partners,” their teacher finishes, sitting back down in her chair. “So, while I take attendance headcount of who’s working with who.” She disappears behind her computer screen, then, peering out, you can get started on that. Get in line for the sign-up sheet I have here so I’ll have a every once in a while to get everyone’s faces so she can mark them absent or present.
Luhan turns to Wufan just in time to see Wufan scramble out of his seat, nearly knocking the entire desk over with his oversized frame. “Do you want to-” Luhan begins before he realizes that Wufan has already situated himself in the empty seat beside Yixing. From the way Wufan is sliding his chair close enough that he can rest his long arms over Yixing’s desk, leaning his head on one palm and smiling at Yixing through his lashes, Luhan supposes that Wufan isn’t going to be Luhan’s partner for this project.
His next choice was going to be Junmyeon, naturally, but as smart as Junmyeon is, Luhan doesn’t really want to work with Junmyeon because Junmyeon would have them do everything the honorable, honor-student way and Luhan just wanted to steal Wufan’s outlines because Yixing would always make the best outlines. Plus, Junmyeon is smart, but not quite as smart as-
“Luhan-ah,” Minseok’s voice today, when she turns in her chair to face Luhan, is somehow even higher and sweeter and clearer than usual. Her little hands curl over the back of the seat, round eyes somehow even rounder today, blinking them at Luhan as he tries not to think about how she’s left at least four of the top buttons of her shirt unbuttoned so that he can see shadows of cleavage leading down from the dip in her sweater vest when she leans forward. “D’you want-”
“Yes!” Luhan says, embarrassingly fast and his ears might be a little red, but then again the school had just turned on the heaters starting today. Luhan is still getting used to the temperature change.
Minseok’s eyes curve up, cheeks bunching and gums flashing and the whole parade charade that Luhan now lumps together as one big Chain Reaction, resulting usually in his own happy downfall. “Yay,” Minseok says, and Luhan thinks that that might be sarcasm in her dancing eyes but that’s probably just Wufan’s cynicism catching on.
Luhan likes to think that he and Minseok are friends now.
He hangs out with her even when Wufan and Junmyeon (previously, the third party links between Luhan to Minseok) aren’t around to bridge them together. Minseok always likes to come early to class when she can help it because, Luhan’s noticed and Wufan has stated, that even though Minseok seems like that, she really is a good student-frighteningly meticulous and diligent. And Luhan has always been the sort of student that slides into class just as the bell rings, neither late nor early, but he supposes that sprinting through the halls and skipping a trip to his locker is worth getting to class at the same time that Minseok does.
Not many people are ever in the classroom yet at that time, except for the teacher (and sometimes even the teacher is still in the teachers’ lounge refilling on coffee). So it’s just Luhan and Minseok alone, and sometimes they talk and sometimes Luhan sneaks a kiss on her mouth, and sometimes she sits in his lap and has him test her on the polyatomic ions they need to know for the quiz today.
(and sometimes, if they’re there early enough and the blinds are closed and the door is closed and not many people are passing by in the hall, Minseok sits on the edge of a desk and lets Luhan pull her panties down until they dangle at her ankles-and she’ll droop her legs over his shoulders and she’ll let his face settle between her thighs and she’ll let him lick the wet warmth pooling inside of her until they hear footsteps approach the door)
Luhan thinks that he and Minseok are definitely friends now.
He gets the text with Minseok’s address on Friday during a literature-turned-study-hall because their teacher is out sick today. All it has is her address and that he should meet her there on Saturday morning, but that’s how all texts are with Minseok. Luhan can scroll up through their previous conversations, all of them just meeting places and times and occasionally questions about homework and due dates. Wufan and even Junmyeon, who’s known Minseok for as long as they were old enough to have cell phones, confirmed that that’s just Kim Minseok.
Luhan thought it was an interesting quirk-especially since he’d originally expected Minseok to be the sort to text with an onslaught of emoticons a la Huang Zitao who texts only with emoticons.
“Have you ever been to her house?” Luhan asks Wufan, proudly thrusting his phone screen in the other boy’s face.
Wufan’s head backs up into his neck, face contorting and shrinking away from Luhan’s phone as if the device was a particularly nasty sea cucumber. “No,” he says, scooting away and ushering the translated play they’re supposed to be reading (because Wufan is one of those sticklers who actually does the work assigned during the teacher’s absence) away from Luhan’s general direction. “Junmyeon has, though.”
“Do angels sing when you walk through the door?” Luhan sighs, holding the phone at arm’s length and gazing dreamily at the numbers of Minseok’s apartment.
“If Lucifer still counts,” Wufan says, turning the page, “then yes.”
Saturday morning, Luhan wakes up three hours before he needs to meet Minseok because he feels like he needs two-and-a-half hours to prepare. Wufan seems to feel that Luhan needs to go about blow-drying his hair either in a quieter manner or in somewhere that isn’t their bedroom and says as much in a croaky Wu-Yifan-morning-voice that sets Luhan into a peal of giggles so hysterical that Zitao bursts into their room from across the hall, in the usual bra and panties that she sleeps in, with an overnight gel-mask, screeching about how they are the reason her dark circles have worsened.
By the time Luhan gets himself out of the house in one piece, Wufan has already downed two Advils on an empty stomach and Zitao has changed gel-masks three more times. He bids both of them goodbye with Zitao winking at him (still in her bra and panties), and Wufan flipping him off without a last glance. Yixing is already downstairs, awake and eating breakfast that he probably made himself, and Luhan snags an egg roll because Yixing makes fairly decent egg rolls.
Minseok’s house is a bus ride away, but the weather is nice enough (and Luhan is running early enough) that he decides to walk the distance instead. He walks as slowly as possible, laptop against his side and bag balanced on his other shoulder, but when he finally reaches Minseok’s apartment complex, takes the elevator up, and arrives at the intercom, his phone still tells him he’s nearly two hours early.
He rings anyway.
“Who is it?” and it’s Minseok’s voice, bright and high and lilting at the end in the way that always makes Luhan flush.
Luhan leans in. “Just me,” he says, and makes sure that she can see his face in the screen.
He hears the latch click, and the door opens. “Oh,” Minseok breathes, blinking, “you’re really early.” She steps aside to let him in. “I didn’t even put pants on yet.”
And Luhan can see that-he can see that there aren’t even shorts over her thighs, just peachy pink panties that peek out from underneath the hem of a billowing, white t-shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off and the sides slit low enough that the baby blue band of her bra is clearly visible when she moves her arms. Minseok’s short hair is piled up on her head, held together by little multicolored, pastel stars.
He swallows dryly.
“Should I-” he makes a flailing sort of gesture towards somewhere-wherever her bedroom might be. “So you can-you know-pants?”
She waves an absent hand, leading him through the kitchen, through the living room and towards the room that, even on the door, has soccer posters and other memorabilia tacked onto it. “It’s okay,” she ushers him into her room and closes the door with a deciding snap behind them. He stares as she flicks on the lock. “You don’t mind, right?” she asks, turning back to him with a smile.
“No,” he says, maybe too quickly but she won’t notice probably-hopefully. “No, it’s fine.”
He isn’t sure what he expected, but Minseok’s room is a little different than what he’d thought it to look like. He imagined a few soccer posters, a few band posters maybe-but the walls were covered from ceiling to floor with monuments-some that Luhan recognized, some that Luhan didn’t. Both buildings that looked like they were picked out of a fairytale and buildings that looked like they’d been taken from a movie set centuries into the future. There weren’t only photographs and paintings of these buildings, but plans-blueprints, some of them with Minseok’s handwriting in the margins. Occasionally, Luhan saw them interspersed with strange photographs of coffee beans and instruments that he supposed would be used in an antiquated way of coffee-making.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Minseok’s voice jerks him out of the reverie brought on by staring too hard and possibly too long at a photograph of a twirling, psychedelic sort of glass staircase. “I can build you one someday.” She plops onto her bed, the mattress bouncing as she spreads her legs out in front of her over the white and blue sheets.
Luhan puts his laptop case on the edge of the mattress and drops his backpack to the floor. He sits across from her on the bed and takes another sweeping glance around the room. “It looks scary to climb,” he says with a small smile. “I don’t like heights.”
If anything, Minseok seems to brighten further, the corners of her mouth curving upward. “Everyone thinks tall buildings are the prettiest,” she says, “but there’re lots of ones close to the ground that are really pretty too. I’ll build you the best one.”
He finds himself laughing, softly into the back of his hand as his eyes crinkle until he can no longer see Minseok’s expression for a moment. When the laughter subsides, Minseok’s face is a little too close to his own, the distance between them closed in the few seconds it took for Luhan to compose himself. Instead of sitting back against the headboard, Minseok is on her knees in front of Luhan, hands on his thighs to balance herself. He can see down her shirt, down her bra-the soft, pale breasts that he’s had his mouth on before.
She leans forward just a little more, just to finish off the space between their lips-a short, brisk kiss before she bounces back away from him and promptly pulls his laptop between them. He blinks at her as she pats the cover of his laptop with a grin. “Let’s start,” she giggles.
They work on the project for three hours before they get hungry and Minseok wanders off into the kitchen to get food for them-leftovers from yesterday because her parents are both out for the weekend and her little sister is sleeping over at a friend’s. None of it actually gets eaten because when Minseok comes back, she puts the food down on her desk, climbs back onto the bed, into Luhan’s lap, and they make-out for twenty-six minutes.
They only pull away when Luhan’s stomach grumbles and Minseok laughs against his mouth, falling back and reaching to her desk to hand over a plate of boiled eggs and messy riceballs.
From there, they manage to stomach another hour and a half on the project until Luhan kicks away his laptop and buries his face into one of Minseok’s pillows, groaning into it because his eyes ache from four hours straight of staring at the screen. He’s grateful that Minseok doesn’t comment on how she knows Luhan has played a straight nine hours of soccer games on the television in Junmyeon’s basement before.
“Pussy,” is what she says to him instead. He turns his head against the pillow and watches her finish up the research on her own laptop. She’s put on her glasses now, big-framed affairs that make her face look even tinier than it already is. Since they’ve started (and possibly because of his fingers running through it when they’d kissed), her hair has fallen out of the little clips, curling in wisps around her full cheeks. The afternoon sunlight is intensely bright through the blinds, shining into the room and making Minseok’s skin appear even paler and softer.
Luhan yawns, his early wake-up getting to him now that it’s past noon. “You’re really pretty,” he says sleepily.
She pauses with her finger still on the mousepad, glancing at him. “You just want sex,” she says airily.
He grins. “Maybe.”
“But I’m already doing most of the work,” Minseok points out, cheeks gathering air and pink lips pouting. Their eyes meet, staring at each other over the two laptops and pillows, and when it becomes clear that Minseok doesn’t seem to be planning to break the gaze first, Luhan looks away finally-looks down and straightens up into a sitting position. He raises his legs, spreading them before he glances up to look at Minseok at the same time that he reaches forward and takes her waist in his hands.
Her peal of laughter is delighted when he pulls her towards him, resting her between his legs and opening her thighs so that they frame his hips. She’s still lying on her back, so Luhan has to lean forward and over to kiss her-a short, nothing-kiss that barely ghosts over her lips. Minseok’s shirt has ridden up, from when he pulled her towards him, up over her thighs and stomach, and when he presses his mouth against the skin of her tummy, she strokes a hand through his hair.
“Did you know,” Minseok says, as Luhan hooks his thumbs into the sides of her panties and shimmies them down over her thighs, past her ankles, and tosses them over the side of the bed, “that you’re a good kisser?”
Luhan presses himself between her thighs again to do just that-tongue sweeping into her mouth this time until she makes a high, little noise in the back of her throat and pushes him away laughing breathlessly. “Who ‘m I better than?” he asks playfully.
She cups his face with her tiny hands. “Junmyeonie,” she says, “and Jonginie, and everyone’s better than Park Chanyeol.” Then she shakes her head and adds, “But not Kyungsoo. He’s too good.”
And maybe, at any other time, this would’ve sent Luhan into some sort of panic attack wherein Wufan would have to give him a paper bag to breathe into because on some sort of level, Luhan has always known that every male friend Minseok has, at one point or another, must have been in a similar position to Luhan. But for some reason, for now, right now, with Minseok warm and pliant and soft and eager between his legs and in his arms, none of that really registers to him-he isn’t really bothered by it.
“Mm,” Luhan takes her hands away from his face and intertwines their fingers. He pulls her up with a gentle yank that has her sitting up in one fast movement, his arm catching her waist, and at the sudden increase in proximity, at having their faces so close so abruptly, Minseok smiles broadly-little bouts of laughter escaping her as he kisses her breathless again. “What if I practice enough? Think it’s possible?”
He slips one hand beneath the large t-shirt, gripping the hem and pulling it up and over her head. She shakes it off until it falls onto the mattress, knocking her glasses off along with it and probably several clips. “No,” she deadpans, and it lasts all of two seconds before her expression breaks into a smile again-flushed lips curling up over pink gums as her arms twine around Luhan’s neck.
But Luhan untangles her arms from his neck, and lays her back down on the bed. Her eyes move from playful to curious and she squirms slightly against him-the motion causing one of her bra straps to slide off her shoulder. He presses down against her again, close enough until he can feel her breasts against his chest and she squirms even harder, hands on his cheeks. Luhan knows she’s uncomfortably wet now with an even more uncomfortable ache between her thighs.
“Sure?” Luhan whispers teasingly against her ear, kissing her cheek.
“Luhan-ah,” and she draws his name out like a whine, fingernails digging slightly into his arms. Her body is arching, and when he presses two fingers against her, slick and wet and warm, another needy noise escapes from her. He goes ahead and slips both fingers into her, not moving them, just having them there and letting her pump herself against them as he pushes up her bra over her breasts with his other hand. He hasn’t unclasped it, just leaving it to push her breasts down and together, nipples erect and swollen for him to cover with his lips and tongue.
Minseok might’ve sobbed-might’ve buried her hands in Luhan’s hair and tried to get him to stop because it was too much, the way he mouthed over her skin.
He comes up to kiss her again, and now he adds a third finger and starts moving them to the rhythm that she’s already set for herself. Her kisses are coming open-mouthed and sloppy and she nearly bites down on his lip when he scissors his fingers and brushes the fingers of his other hands over her nipples again. He finds her clit with his thumb, his other three fingers stilling just so he can rub circles into that spot until she’s writhing left and right, coming too easily, hot and pulsing against his hand.
Luhan doesn’t take his fingers out even as she clenches around them, gasping through her orgasm and sighing as she comes down, eyes fluttering at the ceiling. She’s still so wet that it’s slicked onto the insides of her thighs now and all over his hand. He reaches behind her arched back to unhook her bra, kissing around her breasts everywhere but where her nipples are still oversensitive and peaked. It’s just a little thing that he loves-having her completely naked while he’s still completely clothed-having it so that she’s wet and squirming and coming all over his hand while he’s still hard and untouched.
He hopes she doesn’t mind.
Her cheeks are flushed as their gazes connect and she reaches her arms up towards him. She’s breathing so hard that his name just comes out as “-han-ah,” but he already knows exactly what she wants. He scoops her up into his lap, into his arms and she happily wraps her own around his neck again so that they’re pressed together-her bare skin against the cotton of his shirt.
She kisses his cheek, and Luhan strokes her hair back away from her face. “That was so cool,” she grins, looking absolutely pink and exhilarated and if Luhan loses a little bit of himself in her eyes, no one has to know.
“Am I better than Kyungsoo now?” Luhan jokes, and he loves the feeling of cradling Minseok in his arms-being able to feel soft, smooth skin against the bare skin of his own arms and-
“What.”
Minseok’s head whips around faster than Luhan’s, fast enough that even as short as her hair is, some of it hits Luhan in the face.
Luhan turns his head slower, because he recognizes the voice and he thinks maybe if he doesn’t look, he won’t turn into stone.
“Noona,” and Kyungsoo stands in the open-faced doorway that leads out to Minseok’s balcony, a rosy cactus balanced in one hand and a textbook in his other. His large eyes find Luhan, and the older boy feels the air crackle icily around himself (and he doesn’t want to think Kyungsoo is a dementor because that’s childish and stupid but). “Noona, why’re you naked?”
Minseok angles herself around in Luhan’s lap so she faces Kyungsoo. “Oh,” she says cheerily, “Luhan was fingering me.”
Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrow, knitting together in the middle as his full lips dip into a frown as he takes in Luhan.
Luhan needs a paper bag.
“Noona,” Kyungsoo says, looking away from Luhan in a manner that made Luhan feel like a hideous slug, “I need help with stat.”
“Okay,” Minseok says, rolling off of Luhan and reaching for her t-shirt. She slips it over her head and leaves her bra and panties untouched. Luhan takes that as his immediate cue to gather his laptop and start packing up his books. He packs faster the nearer Kyungsoo approaches. “Sorry,” she whispers at Luhan, hopping off the bed and handing him the rest of his books. “I forgot I offered to help him with problems today.”
Luhan shakes his head profusely, and continues to try not to make eye contact with Kyungsoo. He’s certain that on any other day Kyungsoo normally doesn’t hate Luhan, but today, Luhan feels as though the spikes on that cactus honestly could end up embedded somewhere in Luhan’s body. “It’s fine,” he says, and he’s just quite surprised when Minseok tiptoes up to kiss Luhan, briefly but warmly on the lips before she ushers him out of her bedroom.
“Next Saturday,” she says, leading him back to the front door to see him off, “let’s work at your place.” She smiles.
“Sure,” Luhan says, and hopes that Wufan still has those paper bags.