Chauffeur
Title: Chauffeur
Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5.2k
Summary: Wufan got hired to drive around a political figure’s rich kid. He never thought he’d have to buckle himself in for one hell of a ride.
Notes: i got this idea while on the plane to kcon. and a few other ideas. but in thanks to @baekhyuns for inviting me into her kcon plans last minute, i thought mostly about this lmao. thanks again steph!!
notes 2.0: this isn’t proof read sorry
--
Exo’s driving and escort service is the only service used by the rich and famous, in Seoul. Wufan got a job there a year ago last month and has been one of the best drivers they’ve ever seen. He’s punctual and he never breaks any laws, polite, and professional. The fact that he’s the most highly requested driver among the female celebrities doesn’t escape anyone’s notice and they use that to his advantage. Heap loads of money for the company, a pocketful of tips for him.
Tonight he’s scheduled to chauffeur a traveling politician’s son. They’re from China, which meant they were automatically given their choice of multilingual drivers. Wufan honestly doesn’t know how or why he was picked for this task, considering his other option was a beautiful A-list actress, but he accepts because traveling politicians are always ready to dole out money for their children so they don’t get bored and cause havoc while their parents are caught up in stuffy meetings. Politician’s kids aren’t Wufan’s cup of daily tea -- more like a weekly rotten egg. He doesn’t particularly enjoy them. But he has a job to do, and a job he does well, so he gets into the sleek black Rolls Royce and punches in the numbers on the GPS before heading out.
He’s lead to a Sheraton hotel and there’s a kid standing out on the curb. He’s going to assume that it’s Zhang Yixing, son of Zhang Hua, the person he’s scheduled to babysit for the night. He tries not to think so darkly of the situation as he pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park, opening the door and getting out.
Wufan is well aware of his first impression. Pressed black suit, skinny tie, shiny shoes, blond hair slicked back, eyes smoky and dark even without the aid of make-up. Tall frame, sharp profile, he’s used to people sucking in a gasp of surprise as soon as he steps out of the car. His chauffeur hat is perched lightly on his head so it doesn’t crease his hair but it doesn’t look any less professional, black leather gloves on his hands to protect them from the roughness of the steering wheel.
Yixing looks up at him, blinking slowly. He looks… really disinterested, if not a bit dazed. No matter, Wufan isn’t here to impress him. His long arm reaches out, gloved fingers catching the door handle in a practiced ease that comes so fluid it’s second nature, the door clicking quietly open in invitation for Yixing to get in.
He looks different than the regular clientele, Wufan idly notes as he gives a small, dimpled smile, climbing into the back seat. Dirty blond hair bordering on mousy brown, sparkling eyes, pants tight in the waist but loose in the legs, high tops on his feet and a tank top that does more revealing than covering up. Wufan shuts the door once he’s sure Yixing is inside and then rounds towards the driver door, getting in and adjusting all of his mirrors and taking off his driver’s hat, setting it in the passenger seat.
“Where to?” in Korean, his voice comes out a lot rougher than he intended, and he subtly clears it as he takes off his right glove so his bare finger can hover over the GPS.
“I don’t know,” comes the airy reply in Mandarin. Wufan’s eyes glance up into the rear view mirror to catch sight of Yixing leaning against the right side door, elbow on the ledge, chin in his hands. “Dad just said I needed to occupy myself for the night since I’m not allowed to the party.”
Misbehaved child. Great. Just what Wufan needs.
“I’m not a tour guide,” Wufan says it a bit stiffly, matching the language as he puts his driver glove back on, tugging the leather down towards his wrist.
“Where would you go?”
The question catches Wufan off guard. He’s a driver, not a conversationalist and trust, his tips aren’t because he’s pleasant to talk to. His long fingers drum over the steering wheel and he shifts, putting the Royce into drive and turning off the hazards as he pulls out of the hotel and into traffic.
“I don’t know.” He’s embarrassed at his reply. He doesn’t say ‘I don’t know’ often, let alone to clients, but Yixing seems pleased as he leans forward between the divide of the seats.
“I’m hungry, can we get food first?”
Wufan ignores the waft of Yixing’s cologne as he hits the voice command on the GPS, “Nearby restaurants--”
“Gas station!”
Wufan casts Yixing a cool glare but the kid doesn’t bat an eyelash as he reaches over the center console, fingers tapping into the GPS. The driver drops his hand, even though he’s uncomfortable with Yixing’s close proximity -- not because Yixing makes him uncomfortable, by any means, but because clients usually keep to themselves in the backseat, not drape themselves over the seats to get up into Wufan’s space. Yixing makes a frustrated noise because the GPS is in English, but he recognizes the little symbol for gas stations and corner stores so he hits it, before settling back in his seat. Re-routing.
It takes maybe five minutes and Wufan is pulling an eighty-thousand dollar car into the parking lot of a plain corner store, up into the first available slot he sees. Yixing barely waits for the car to stop before he’s getting out and Wufan splutters a bit because he’s supposed to open all doors for his clients but Yixing is already hopping into the corner store excitedly. Wufan shuts off the car and grabs his cabby hat, getting out and perching it on his head, locking the doors and following after Yixing. He’s not a babysitter, but he can’t let this kid out of his sight. He has to bring him back to the hotel in one piece.
Inside, Yixing is lamenting over what flavor of chips to get.
“Nacho Cheese or Cool Ranch?”
Wufan tries not to think about washing either or off the leather of his interior. “Cool Ranch.” Less orange.
Yixing grabs Nacho Cheese (the family size), before he wanders back towards the cooler. His fingers tap over the glass as he leans forward to examine the beverages inside and Wufan hovers a bit awkwardly by the pretzels, watching but not getting too close. Yixing doesn’t seem to care, as he makes a delighted noise and opens a door to pull out a two-liter of Cherry Coke. Wufan opens his mouth to say something like ‘I thought you were hungry, why don’t you get real food?’ but it gets lost when Yixing flashes a dazzling smile, his left cheek indenting dangerously.
Wufan’s mouth goes dry for the first time in a long while.
Yixing is at the counter by the time Wufan regains his sanity, paying for the junk food with a smile and broken Korean. His accent isn’t terrible but he gets some verbs mixed up and Wufan isn’t smiling, no, not at all as Yixing turns and asks him if he wants anything.
Wufan grabs a water and figures Yixing can afford it.
Back out at the car Yixing tries to open the door before it’s unlocked and the car chirrups loudly, lights flashing. He yelps in surprise and laughs and Wufan presses the button on his key to disarm the car, and then reaches around the shorter man to open the door for him. Yixing freezes a little because Wufan’s chest bumps into his shoulder and Wufan wouldn’t have noticed the blush on Yixing’s cheeks if he wasn’t looking but he is and Yixing collapses into the back seat, grinning and giving a thumbs up.
Wufan shuts the door and then gets into the driver’s seat, taking off his hat and resisting the urge to touch his hair. Not a strand is out of place, he knows, but this client is unlike anyone else he’s driven around. In the back seat Yixing is tearing into his Doritos and Wufan tries not to think about the bill he’ll have to pay to get his car detailed after this. He can’t, anyway, when Yixing is reaching over the seat as he starts the car, holding a cheesy triangle up to Wufan’s lips.
“Ah~!”
Is this kid for real? Wufan sends him a puzzled look but Yixing is just smiling, eyes shining and dimple catching the shadows and it’s with great remorse and loss of sanity that Wufan opens up and crunches into the chip. Yixing shoves the whole thing into his mouth and Wufan starts a little, Yixing laughing as he settles into the seat again and unscrews his soda, taking a chug.
For a kid so limber, it looks like he eats like shit. Wufan wonders if tonight he just feels like breaking rules.
All the rules.
“Don’t be so stiff,” Yixing chides, wiping cheesy fingers on his burgundy jeans without a care. Wufan releases his death grip on the steering wheel, taking off a glove and re-programming his GPS into Mandarin just in case Yixing decides to commandeer it again. At least this way he can navigate the technology and Wufan won’t have to worry about driving off a cliff. “Don’t you like your job?”
“I’m the best at my job,” is Wufan’s immediate reply, and it must have been the wrong one because Yixing just barks out a laugh. Wufan prims a little, putting the car into gear and backing slowly out of the parking spot, checking all mirrors and swiveling his head to check for other cars.
“Hey, can we get bubble tea?” Yixing sounds earnest as he sits up.
“You just got enough junk food for four teenage boys and you want bubble tea?” Oops. Wufan shouldn’t have said that. It was completely out of script. He stiffens a little, expecting Yixing to say something like ‘you can’t talk to me like that!’, but instead, Yixing just whines and moves center seat so he can lean forward properly, close to Wufan. Wufan tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach.
“I’ve only had it once before, I never get to go out and do anything.”
Caged Bird Syndrome. Yixing has it. Wufan starts to shift his initial judgment of the kid and taps in ‘boba’ into the GPS system before his mind even registers what his hand is going.
Yixing makes a gleeful sound.
“Roll up those chips before they spill everywhere,” is all Wufan can say, and he tries to sound grumpy.
Yixing obliges and screws the cap tightly on his soda, flopping back into the seat with a huge grin and an excited ‘wah~’.
Wufan is screwed.
He better be getting paid good for this.
--
If Wufan is to be honest, his experience of bubble tea is more limited than Yixing’s. He’s never had it. Never been interested in it. He’s not really a fan of sweets but Yixing is out of the car, again, before Wufan can let him out and this time Yixing is at the driver’s side door, tugging Wufan’s arm as soon as it opens. He can’t even grab his cap before Yixing is dragging him up towards the twenty-four hour stall, neon lights glowing bright in the setting sun and Wufan barely has time to hit the ‘lock’ button on his key fob before Yixing has him ducking through the door (ducking, because the shack is clearly family owned and poorly built and not meant to accommodate giants like Wufan). The menu board is intimidating, written in bubbly Hangul and a few misspelled English words and Wufan doesn’t notice the curve of his lips until Yixing lifts up a finger and prods the corner of his mouth.
“You should smile more,” Yixing says, and Wufan glances down at him. He looks tiny, pressed into his side.
Wufan scowls in reaction, of course.
Yixing walks up to the counter and in bad (cute) Korean announces that he wants a strawberry milk tea with lychee. Wufan is still staring up at the menu board because he’s not really sure if Yixing’s invitation extends to him, as well.
Yixing reaches out with a foot and nudges Wufan’s shin, “What do you want?”
Wufan glances down at his pants -- if Yixing’s shoe left a mark… He ignores the urge to bend down and brush off his pant leg, before looking back up at the menu board.
“Honeydew…” is the first thing that leaves his lips and Yixing takes it from there, ordering honeydew milk tea with passionfruit bubbles. The woman behind the counter smiles at Yixing’s oblivious display of cuteness and starts making up the drinks, Yixing handing Wufan a sealed neon green straw. He takes it, and wow. That’s a big straw.
Yixing is ripping the wrapper off his pink one, “the color of your straw should match the color of your tea~”, before he leans his hip against a nearby table and smiles a bit mutely, watching the woman make the drinks.
Wufan stands, a bit stiff, hands (and straw) clasped in front of his body. Traditional driver’s stance, when waiting. He watches the woman make the drink, as well, the machines looking more like alien robots than any sort of food processor. Will it be good? Too sweet? He glances over at Yixing and Yixing has a serene smile on his face, hands leaning back on the table, palms flat, ignoring the chair right next to him. Wufan thinks that Yixing is kind of pretty, actually. He doesn’t fit the stereotype of the socialites that Wufan usually carts around and it’s… a bit jarring, but it’s refreshing, at the same time. Yixing is a cool breeze on a summer night and Wufan finds himself relaxing in it.
Their bubble teas come and Yixing pays, even though Wufan is capable of taking care of his own bill. Yixing just flashes a smile and his plastic and Wufan isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he unwraps his straw and stares at the top of his sealed drink. He glances up in time to see Yixing stabbing his straw right in the center of his, and Wufan glances down again -- there’s a cute cartoon in the center of the plastic and Wufan doesn’t want to ruin it, so he finds a blank spot with no colors or cartoons and stabs through there, instead. Yixing’s only indication of notice is a secretive smile, as he heads out of the bubble tea shop and back towards the car, once again setting off the alarm before Wufan can even get out of the shop.
Wufan hits ‘unlock’ and as soon as Yixing tugs the handle, he hits ‘lock’ again. Yixing huffs and tosses him a glare over the top of the car and Wufan smirks in amusement, unlocking the car again -- before Yixing’s fingers touch he locks again and Yixing lets out an indignant whine.
“Ge!”
That’s all it takes for Wufan to unlock the car and slide into the driver’s seat, and rebelliously, Yixing slips into the passenger seat instead of the back.
Wufan arches a brow.
Yixing prims, “Is this against the rules?”
Wufan shakes his head -- it’s a class thing. Rich people in the back, driver in the front. But Yixing seems to make a goal of shattering all of Wufan’s coherent ‘rich people’ thoughts so Wufan just starts the car, putting his bubble tea in the cup holder and quirking the faintest of grins when Yixing rolls down the window, playing with the wind as Wufan pulls out into traffic again.
--
Ten minutes of driving in town and Yixing’s bubble tea is completely gone (Wufan has only drank about an inch or two, the first bubble that passed through his straw almost caused a fender bender) and he’s getting antsy again. At one point he attempted to drape over the seat and into the back to try and reach for his soda, but he couldn’t reach it because of the angle and he returned to his seat, pouting moodily -- that is, until one of the city’s largest toy stores comes into view.
“Pull in there!”
He can’t be serious.
“Wufan!” he tugs on the sleeve of Wufan’s suit jacket.
He’s totally serious.
Wufan pulls into the parking lot full of mini vans and SUVs and he parks as far away as possible. No way is his Rolls Royce risking a stray shopping cart or stroller or a too-wide door. Yixing doesn’t care, as he bounds out of the car and makes a beeline for the entrance. Wufan manages to grab his cap this time, and he follows after Yixing, locking his car and keeping a close eye while also staying at a safe distance. He’s never been in this toy store before and Yixing hasn’t either, obviously, by the way he’s looking around at everything in total and complete awe. There’s a giant bin of plush toys and Yixing looks tempted to jump into it (no matter how rich he is, Wufan greatly prays he resists the urge because he would be the one to have to fish him out), and he settles for leaning over the edge and starting to surf his hand through it.
Wufan doesn’t want to think about how many germy, grimey kids have put their hands through the toys as well and instead folds his arms loosely over his chest so he can watch.
After maybe five minutes (and a close call of Yixing almost tipping entirely into the bin), Wufan is face-to-face with a small alpaca plushie. He blinks, nearly going cross-eyed with how closely Yixing is holding it up to him -- it’s cute, fur a soft white, a cabby hat perched on its head and dressed in a little tuxedo. It’s like an alpaca version of Wufan. How the heck did Yixing even find something like this?
“He looks just like you!” Yixing says, and alright, so he did find it on purpose. Yixing presses the toy into Wufan’s chest and the chauffeur has no choice but to accept it, blinking as Yixing pulls out another alpaca, this one with headphones looped around its neck and tie-dye fur. Yixing seems totally satisfied and his small hand slips into the crook of Wufan’s elbow like it was created to be there, leading him up to the register.
The cashier doesn’t even arch a brow, merely gives a slightly terse smile at the sight of two men -- one over-dressed and one looking like a teenager -- currently purchasing alpaca plushies. Yixing pays cash for this, and Wufan wants to ask why he hasn’t used his credit card for such a small purchase (why are these toys so cheap?), but Yixing is ushering him out of the door because more workers are starting to stare.
Back out at the car (and we say ‘out at the car’ because Wufan really did a number of finding the farthest available parking spot), Yixing leans against the hood even though Wufan sends him a Look. The other is playing with the plushie he’s holding, fingers carding through the multi-colored fur, playing with the little headphones around his neck. It’s silent and Wufan is still standing rigid, not daring to lean against his God damn Rolls Royce and how is Yixing so filthy rich and yet acts like a ten year old?
“My dad sent out for a chauffeur because I usually don’t leave the hotel room when we travel,” Yixing says suddenly.
Wufan wants to ask why a grown man is still being toted around with his parents, but it could be for various reasons. Yixing could be leeching off of them, Yixing could be next in line to whatever business his father deals with, or Yixing could actually be fourteen.
“I didn’t think he’d send me the Kindergarten Cop.” Yixing quirks a grin, dimple indenting his cheek and Wufan has the decency to blush a little.
“You’re a little… different than my normal clientele.”
Yixing’s head tilts, and Wufan belatedly realizes that he’s hardly said a word this whole time. Two hours with this guy in his car and Yixing has done all the talking.
“Different is good, right?” There’s a playful glint in Yixing’s eyes, and he throws his plushie at Wufan, who catches it out of reflex. “Mr. Chauffeur, what do you recommend to a homebody that never steps outside his house unless he’s forced to?”
“What do you like?” Wufan asks.
“You,” Yixing replies.
Wufan’s cap gets knocked off of his head when Yixing tugs him down for a hot, open-mouthed kiss, the accessory thunking against the hood of the car and then rolling off onto the asphalt. Wufan opens his mouth to the questing tongue and Yixing’s fingers are twisted into the skinny tie currently cutting off a bit of the oxygen trying to pass through Wufan’s lungs, and soon enough Yixing’s back is against the hood of the car and Wufan is hovering over him, taking control of the kiss. There’s something intoxicating about Yixing -- how closed off yet carefree he is. His smile, the way his eyes flash, how his hair rests over his brow, the fact that he clearly eats like shit but has such a perfect body.
There’s a gasp in the distance and Wufan breaks the kiss just in time to see a horrified mom ushering her kids to the other side of her mini van and Wufan immediately pulls away, Yixing laughing and pushing at his chest.
“Let’s go, Mr. Driver.” Yixing rounds the side of the car to the passenger door and Wufan unlocks it in a bit of a daze, almost forgetting to grab his cap before he moves into the car and shuts the doors.
Yixing fidgets with the GPS, and then fixes Wufan with a heavy gaze, “Come back to my hotel with me.”
Wufan doesn’t need to be told twice.
--
With Yixing’s parents out to the gala for the remainder of the evening, Wufan doesn’t feel bad about slamming Yixing up against the wall the second they cross the threshold. Yixing doesn’t care, kicking off his shoes and pushing off Wufan’s suit jacket from his shoulders, tossing it carelessly to the floor and Wufan has to force himself to focus on Yixing’s fingers undoing his belt rather than the dry cleaning bill he’s sure to have.
Somehow they make it into the guest suite where Yixing is staying and they topple on the bed and Wufan is impressed that he somehow managed to get Yixing down to his boxers between the front door and here. Yixing scoots up on the bed and Wufan stands at the edge of it, fingers doing their best to not rip the buttons right off his shirt and he shrugs out of the material, shaking it off his arms and tossing it aside, fingers moving to his belt.
“Ah,” Yixing gets up on all fours and practically dives for Wufan’s belt, knocking much larger hands out of the way so he can get to the task.
Slacks and boxers halfway down his thighs, Wufan tangles his fingers in Yixing’s hair when cute, deadly fingers wrap around the base of his cock and squeeze, guiding the head of his dick to wet, split-slicked lips. Yixing gives head like he gives directions -- insistently, yet carefree. His tongue is hot and perfect and his jaw is slack but he’s doing it with such ease that Wufan wonders how many blowjobs he’s given before. It’s none of his business, but his fingers tighten possessively in Yixing’s dark blond hair anyway.
Leaning over, Wufan moves his hand down the curve of Yixing’s spine, down to his covered ass. His fingers catch the waistband of Yixing’s boxer briefs and give it a tight snap, causing Yixing to keen against his flesh, the vibration traveling to the pit of Wufan’s gut. He pushes the undergarments down a bit, both hands groping and squeezing Yixing’s ass, pulling and spreading the cheeks, a dry thumb sliding over Yixing’s hole. Yixing comes off his dick with a wet pop and his eyes are glossed over, but that stupid hazy smile is still on his lips and Wufan wants to kiss it off his face.
But there’s more pressing matters to attend to.
Like the fact Yixing is already bucking back onto his dry fingers, hole quivering and clenching and begging to be filled.
It takes some maneuvering but soon enough they’re situated on the bed, Wufan’s back against the headboard, Yixing straddling his lap as the driver slides lubed fingers slowly in and out of Yixing’s body. The smaller of the two is writhing, moaning and bucking down and Wufan has three in, working them all at once to get them to press up against Yixing’s walls and relax him and open him up. He starts working his pinky in, idly curious to see how much Yixing can take exactly, but Yixing is grabbing a condom from his discarded jeans and tearing it open with his teeth. Cliche, really, but Wufan lets out a soft groan of appreciation because Yixing’s mouth is perfect and watching it cause destruction, whether on a condom wrapper or sucking marks into Wufan’s hips, is absolute nirvana.
Just as Yixing positions himself over Wufan’s achingly hard cock, he pauses, grinning wickedly and climbing off Wufan’s lap. Wufan just groans and tips his head back til it knocks against the headboard but then Yixing is returning, plopping Wufan’s driver’s cap atop his head, flattening his perfectly coiffed hair.
“There,” Yixing declares, and without another warning seats himself on Wufan’s cock.
It’s explosive.
Yixing is still so tight, despite the stretch of four fingers and Wufan’s got two handfuls of his ass, fingers digging into the flesh, sandwiched on the tops of his thighs. Oh, it’s glorious. Yixing’s thighs flex and Wufan glances down, watching the planes of muscle tighten and loosen underneath pale skin and holy hell, Yixing’s body is perfect. Lithe and slender and masculine and powerful and his cock is curved so pretty up against his tummy as he fucks himself onto Wufan’s cock and Wufan almost feels bad for barely being able to help, but what can he do? Yixing’s tightness is drying up his throat the threat of coming prematurely is very real.
“Do you know how hot you are?”
Oh. Yixing is a talker. Wufan knew that though. He should have predicted it would carry over into the bedroom.
Wufan just grunts a little, bending his knees slightly and planting his feet into the bed so that his dick angles up into Yixing differently. Yixing whines, spine arching, fingers digging into Wufan’s shoulders before his nails drag down over the broad expanse of the driver’s chest. A rough, dirty, impatient fuck and Wufan is helping Yixing bounce on his cock, swear words never having sounded so perfect before in Wufan’s twenty-three years of living. Yixing apparently loses enough coherency to not talk anymore and while Wufan likes the sound of his voice, he’d much rather focus on the way Yixing’s ass clenches around his dick like it wants to rip it off.
His fingers slide inwards, spreading Yixing’s ass cheeks as far as they’ll stretch and each index finger slides into Yixing’s hole, snug right up beside his dick and Yixing croons at the added stretch, taking it like a champ. Wufan thought he would. He wishes that they were in the privacy of his own apartment, with a few extra toys because he’d really like to spend some time unraveling Yixing totally. But for now, working in the next two digits, four fingers plus his thick cock should be enough to sate them both. It takes some of the pressure away from his cock and he feels less like his orgasm is going to come embarrassingly soon, the sound of skin slapping on skin resounding throughout the room, which doesn’t even have a door to it. This is compromising.
Wufan doesn’t give a flying fuck.
Yixing is the first to lost it, to Wufan’s satisfaction. He tightens deliciously around Wufan’s fingers and cock and his cum comes out in beautiful, hot spurts, dropping onto Wufan’s chest and stomach and when Yixing’s body is trembling from the high Wufan hauls him up and uses his size to lay Yixing on his back, knees to his chest as Wufan starts to drill into him. Yixing howls and twists the bed sheets in his hand and it takes one, two, three thrusts for Wufan to feel his balls draw taught and he pulls out at the last second, ripping off the condom and jerking his load onto the curve of Yixing’s ass and the milky flesh of his thighs.
They catch their breath for about thirty seconds, and then hear the door to the hotel room jolt a little.
Yixing’s eyes widen and Wufan’s heart stops.
“Dad,” Yixing whispers.
Wufan has never dressed so fast in his life, not even bothering to clean up the cum on his skin. He buttons his shirt over it and throws on his blazer and runs a hand through his hair -- Yixing helps, finding Wufan’s tie and doing the fastest knot Wufan has ever seen, and Wufan is completely dressed, shoes and all when the hotel door opens. There’s about ten seconds before Mr. Zhang comes in to check on his son and Yixing draws Wufan into a breathless kiss, smirking against his lips.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Driver.” Yixing throws himself onto his bed, draws up all his covers, and pretends to sleep.
Wufan straightens his back just as Mr. Zhang walks in, a questioning look on the older man’s features.
“He drank,” Wufan says a bit stiffly as he pulls on his driving gloves.
Mr. Zhang sighs, “At least he had a night on the town. I worry for him sometimes.”
Wufan smirks a little as he tips his hat with his pointer finger, passing by Mr. Zhang a lot cooler than he’d ever give himself credit for, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Mr. Zhang.”
“You’re the best driver we’ve had, Mr. Wu.” Mr. Zhang holds his hand out for a shake.
Wufan opts for a bow because his hand, even though gloved, is still the same hand that was stroking off this guy’s son not ten minutes ago.
“We’ll call you next time we’re in Seoul.”
“Please,” Wufan smirks a little as he makes towards the door. “By all means, do.”
He hears Yixing snort in amusement and Wufan closes the door just after hearing a ‘what did Wufan show you tonight?’, the response being a high-pitched laugh.
Wufan is the best at his job.
Tonight was the best tip he’s ever gotten.
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Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5.2k
Summary: Wufan got hired to drive around a political figure’s rich kid. He never thought he’d have to buckle himself in for one hell of a ride.
Notes: i got this idea while on the plane to kcon. and a few other ideas. but in thanks to @baekhyuns for inviting me into her kcon plans last minute, i thought mostly about this lmao. thanks again steph!!
notes 2.0: this isn’t proof read sorry
--
Exo’s driving and escort service is the only service used by the rich and famous, in Seoul. Wufan got a job there a year ago last month and has been one of the best drivers they’ve ever seen. He’s punctual and he never breaks any laws, polite, and professional. The fact that he’s the most highly requested driver among the female celebrities doesn’t escape anyone’s notice and they use that to his advantage. Heap loads of money for the company, a pocketful of tips for him.
Tonight he’s scheduled to chauffeur a traveling politician’s son. They’re from China, which meant they were automatically given their choice of multilingual drivers. Wufan honestly doesn’t know how or why he was picked for this task, considering his other option was a beautiful A-list actress, but he accepts because traveling politicians are always ready to dole out money for their children so they don’t get bored and cause havoc while their parents are caught up in stuffy meetings. Politician’s kids aren’t Wufan’s cup of daily tea -- more like a weekly rotten egg. He doesn’t particularly enjoy them. But he has a job to do, and a job he does well, so he gets into the sleek black Rolls Royce and punches in the numbers on the GPS before heading out.
He’s lead to a Sheraton hotel and there’s a kid standing out on the curb. He’s going to assume that it’s Zhang Yixing, son of Zhang Hua, the person he’s scheduled to babysit for the night. He tries not to think so darkly of the situation as he pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park, opening the door and getting out.
Wufan is well aware of his first impression. Pressed black suit, skinny tie, shiny shoes, blond hair slicked back, eyes smoky and dark even without the aid of make-up. Tall frame, sharp profile, he’s used to people sucking in a gasp of surprise as soon as he steps out of the car. His chauffeur hat is perched lightly on his head so it doesn’t crease his hair but it doesn’t look any less professional, black leather gloves on his hands to protect them from the roughness of the steering wheel.
Yixing looks up at him, blinking slowly. He looks… really disinterested, if not a bit dazed. No matter, Wufan isn’t here to impress him. His long arm reaches out, gloved fingers catching the door handle in a practiced ease that comes so fluid it’s second nature, the door clicking quietly open in invitation for Yixing to get in.
He looks different than the regular clientele, Wufan idly notes as he gives a small, dimpled smile, climbing into the back seat. Dirty blond hair bordering on mousy brown, sparkling eyes, pants tight in the waist but loose in the legs, high tops on his feet and a tank top that does more revealing than covering up. Wufan shuts the door once he’s sure Yixing is inside and then rounds towards the driver door, getting in and adjusting all of his mirrors and taking off his driver’s hat, setting it in the passenger seat.
“Where to?” in Korean, his voice comes out a lot rougher than he intended, and he subtly clears it as he takes off his right glove so his bare finger can hover over the GPS.
“I don’t know,” comes the airy reply in Mandarin. Wufan’s eyes glance up into the rear view mirror to catch sight of Yixing leaning against the right side door, elbow on the ledge, chin in his hands. “Dad just said I needed to occupy myself for the night since I’m not allowed to the party.”
Misbehaved child. Great. Just what Wufan needs.
“I’m not a tour guide,” Wufan says it a bit stiffly, matching the language as he puts his driver glove back on, tugging the leather down towards his wrist.
“Where would you go?”
The question catches Wufan off guard. He’s a driver, not a conversationalist and trust, his tips aren’t because he’s pleasant to talk to. His long fingers drum over the steering wheel and he shifts, putting the Royce into drive and turning off the hazards as he pulls out of the hotel and into traffic.
“I don’t know.” He’s embarrassed at his reply. He doesn’t say ‘I don’t know’ often, let alone to clients, but Yixing seems pleased as he leans forward between the divide of the seats.
“I’m hungry, can we get food first?”
Wufan ignores the waft of Yixing’s cologne as he hits the voice command on the GPS, “Nearby restaurants--”
“Gas station!”
Wufan casts Yixing a cool glare but the kid doesn’t bat an eyelash as he reaches over the center console, fingers tapping into the GPS. The driver drops his hand, even though he’s uncomfortable with Yixing’s close proximity -- not because Yixing makes him uncomfortable, by any means, but because clients usually keep to themselves in the backseat, not drape themselves over the seats to get up into Wufan’s space. Yixing makes a frustrated noise because the GPS is in English, but he recognizes the little symbol for gas stations and corner stores so he hits it, before settling back in his seat. Re-routing.
It takes maybe five minutes and Wufan is pulling an eighty-thousand dollar car into the parking lot of a plain corner store, up into the first available slot he sees. Yixing barely waits for the car to stop before he’s getting out and Wufan splutters a bit because he’s supposed to open all doors for his clients but Yixing is already hopping into the corner store excitedly. Wufan shuts off the car and grabs his cabby hat, getting out and perching it on his head, locking the doors and following after Yixing. He’s not a babysitter, but he can’t let this kid out of his sight. He has to bring him back to the hotel in one piece.
Inside, Yixing is lamenting over what flavor of chips to get.
“Nacho Cheese or Cool Ranch?”
Wufan tries not to think about washing either or off the leather of his interior. “Cool Ranch.” Less orange.
Yixing grabs Nacho Cheese (the family size), before he wanders back towards the cooler. His fingers tap over the glass as he leans forward to examine the beverages inside and Wufan hovers a bit awkwardly by the pretzels, watching but not getting too close. Yixing doesn’t seem to care, as he makes a delighted noise and opens a door to pull out a two-liter of Cherry Coke. Wufan opens his mouth to say something like ‘I thought you were hungry, why don’t you get real food?’ but it gets lost when Yixing flashes a dazzling smile, his left cheek indenting dangerously.
Wufan’s mouth goes dry for the first time in a long while.
Yixing is at the counter by the time Wufan regains his sanity, paying for the junk food with a smile and broken Korean. His accent isn’t terrible but he gets some verbs mixed up and Wufan isn’t smiling, no, not at all as Yixing turns and asks him if he wants anything.
Wufan grabs a water and figures Yixing can afford it.
Back out at the car Yixing tries to open the door before it’s unlocked and the car chirrups loudly, lights flashing. He yelps in surprise and laughs and Wufan presses the button on his key to disarm the car, and then reaches around the shorter man to open the door for him. Yixing freezes a little because Wufan’s chest bumps into his shoulder and Wufan wouldn’t have noticed the blush on Yixing’s cheeks if he wasn’t looking but he is and Yixing collapses into the back seat, grinning and giving a thumbs up.
Wufan shuts the door and then gets into the driver’s seat, taking off his hat and resisting the urge to touch his hair. Not a strand is out of place, he knows, but this client is unlike anyone else he’s driven around. In the back seat Yixing is tearing into his Doritos and Wufan tries not to think about the bill he’ll have to pay to get his car detailed after this. He can’t, anyway, when Yixing is reaching over the seat as he starts the car, holding a cheesy triangle up to Wufan’s lips.
“Ah~!”
Is this kid for real? Wufan sends him a puzzled look but Yixing is just smiling, eyes shining and dimple catching the shadows and it’s with great remorse and loss of sanity that Wufan opens up and crunches into the chip. Yixing shoves the whole thing into his mouth and Wufan starts a little, Yixing laughing as he settles into the seat again and unscrews his soda, taking a chug.
For a kid so limber, it looks like he eats like shit. Wufan wonders if tonight he just feels like breaking rules.
All the rules.
“Don’t be so stiff,” Yixing chides, wiping cheesy fingers on his burgundy jeans without a care. Wufan releases his death grip on the steering wheel, taking off a glove and re-programming his GPS into Mandarin just in case Yixing decides to commandeer it again. At least this way he can navigate the technology and Wufan won’t have to worry about driving off a cliff. “Don’t you like your job?”
“I’m the best at my job,” is Wufan’s immediate reply, and it must have been the wrong one because Yixing just barks out a laugh. Wufan prims a little, putting the car into gear and backing slowly out of the parking spot, checking all mirrors and swiveling his head to check for other cars.
“Hey, can we get bubble tea?” Yixing sounds earnest as he sits up.
“You just got enough junk food for four teenage boys and you want bubble tea?” Oops. Wufan shouldn’t have said that. It was completely out of script. He stiffens a little, expecting Yixing to say something like ‘you can’t talk to me like that!’, but instead, Yixing just whines and moves center seat so he can lean forward properly, close to Wufan. Wufan tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach.
“I’ve only had it once before, I never get to go out and do anything.”
Caged Bird Syndrome. Yixing has it. Wufan starts to shift his initial judgment of the kid and taps in ‘boba’ into the GPS system before his mind even registers what his hand is going.
Yixing makes a gleeful sound.
“Roll up those chips before they spill everywhere,” is all Wufan can say, and he tries to sound grumpy.
Yixing obliges and screws the cap tightly on his soda, flopping back into the seat with a huge grin and an excited ‘wah~’.
Wufan is screwed.
He better be getting paid good for this.
--
If Wufan is to be honest, his experience of bubble tea is more limited than Yixing’s. He’s never had it. Never been interested in it. He’s not really a fan of sweets but Yixing is out of the car, again, before Wufan can let him out and this time Yixing is at the driver’s side door, tugging Wufan’s arm as soon as it opens. He can’t even grab his cap before Yixing is dragging him up towards the twenty-four hour stall, neon lights glowing bright in the setting sun and Wufan barely has time to hit the ‘lock’ button on his key fob before Yixing has him ducking through the door (ducking, because the shack is clearly family owned and poorly built and not meant to accommodate giants like Wufan). The menu board is intimidating, written in bubbly Hangul and a few misspelled English words and Wufan doesn’t notice the curve of his lips until Yixing lifts up a finger and prods the corner of his mouth.
“You should smile more,” Yixing says, and Wufan glances down at him. He looks tiny, pressed into his side.
Wufan scowls in reaction, of course.
Yixing walks up to the counter and in bad (cute) Korean announces that he wants a strawberry milk tea with lychee. Wufan is still staring up at the menu board because he’s not really sure if Yixing’s invitation extends to him, as well.
Yixing reaches out with a foot and nudges Wufan’s shin, “What do you want?”
Wufan glances down at his pants -- if Yixing’s shoe left a mark… He ignores the urge to bend down and brush off his pant leg, before looking back up at the menu board.
“Honeydew…” is the first thing that leaves his lips and Yixing takes it from there, ordering honeydew milk tea with passionfruit bubbles. The woman behind the counter smiles at Yixing’s oblivious display of cuteness and starts making up the drinks, Yixing handing Wufan a sealed neon green straw. He takes it, and wow. That’s a big straw.
Yixing is ripping the wrapper off his pink one, “the color of your straw should match the color of your tea~”, before he leans his hip against a nearby table and smiles a bit mutely, watching the woman make the drinks.
Wufan stands, a bit stiff, hands (and straw) clasped in front of his body. Traditional driver’s stance, when waiting. He watches the woman make the drink, as well, the machines looking more like alien robots than any sort of food processor. Will it be good? Too sweet? He glances over at Yixing and Yixing has a serene smile on his face, hands leaning back on the table, palms flat, ignoring the chair right next to him. Wufan thinks that Yixing is kind of pretty, actually. He doesn’t fit the stereotype of the socialites that Wufan usually carts around and it’s… a bit jarring, but it’s refreshing, at the same time. Yixing is a cool breeze on a summer night and Wufan finds himself relaxing in it.
Their bubble teas come and Yixing pays, even though Wufan is capable of taking care of his own bill. Yixing just flashes a smile and his plastic and Wufan isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he unwraps his straw and stares at the top of his sealed drink. He glances up in time to see Yixing stabbing his straw right in the center of his, and Wufan glances down again -- there’s a cute cartoon in the center of the plastic and Wufan doesn’t want to ruin it, so he finds a blank spot with no colors or cartoons and stabs through there, instead. Yixing’s only indication of notice is a secretive smile, as he heads out of the bubble tea shop and back towards the car, once again setting off the alarm before Wufan can even get out of the shop.
Wufan hits ‘unlock’ and as soon as Yixing tugs the handle, he hits ‘lock’ again. Yixing huffs and tosses him a glare over the top of the car and Wufan smirks in amusement, unlocking the car again -- before Yixing’s fingers touch he locks again and Yixing lets out an indignant whine.
“Ge!”
That’s all it takes for Wufan to unlock the car and slide into the driver’s seat, and rebelliously, Yixing slips into the passenger seat instead of the back.
Wufan arches a brow.
Yixing prims, “Is this against the rules?”
Wufan shakes his head -- it’s a class thing. Rich people in the back, driver in the front. But Yixing seems to make a goal of shattering all of Wufan’s coherent ‘rich people’ thoughts so Wufan just starts the car, putting his bubble tea in the cup holder and quirking the faintest of grins when Yixing rolls down the window, playing with the wind as Wufan pulls out into traffic again.
--
Ten minutes of driving in town and Yixing’s bubble tea is completely gone (Wufan has only drank about an inch or two, the first bubble that passed through his straw almost caused a fender bender) and he’s getting antsy again. At one point he attempted to drape over the seat and into the back to try and reach for his soda, but he couldn’t reach it because of the angle and he returned to his seat, pouting moodily -- that is, until one of the city’s largest toy stores comes into view.
“Pull in there!”
He can’t be serious.
“Wufan!” he tugs on the sleeve of Wufan’s suit jacket.
He’s totally serious.
Wufan pulls into the parking lot full of mini vans and SUVs and he parks as far away as possible. No way is his Rolls Royce risking a stray shopping cart or stroller or a too-wide door. Yixing doesn’t care, as he bounds out of the car and makes a beeline for the entrance. Wufan manages to grab his cap this time, and he follows after Yixing, locking his car and keeping a close eye while also staying at a safe distance. He’s never been in this toy store before and Yixing hasn’t either, obviously, by the way he’s looking around at everything in total and complete awe. There’s a giant bin of plush toys and Yixing looks tempted to jump into it (no matter how rich he is, Wufan greatly prays he resists the urge because he would be the one to have to fish him out), and he settles for leaning over the edge and starting to surf his hand through it.
Wufan doesn’t want to think about how many germy, grimey kids have put their hands through the toys as well and instead folds his arms loosely over his chest so he can watch.
After maybe five minutes (and a close call of Yixing almost tipping entirely into the bin), Wufan is face-to-face with a small alpaca plushie. He blinks, nearly going cross-eyed with how closely Yixing is holding it up to him -- it’s cute, fur a soft white, a cabby hat perched on its head and dressed in a little tuxedo. It’s like an alpaca version of Wufan. How the heck did Yixing even find something like this?
“He looks just like you!” Yixing says, and alright, so he did find it on purpose. Yixing presses the toy into Wufan’s chest and the chauffeur has no choice but to accept it, blinking as Yixing pulls out another alpaca, this one with headphones looped around its neck and tie-dye fur. Yixing seems totally satisfied and his small hand slips into the crook of Wufan’s elbow like it was created to be there, leading him up to the register.
The cashier doesn’t even arch a brow, merely gives a slightly terse smile at the sight of two men -- one over-dressed and one looking like a teenager -- currently purchasing alpaca plushies. Yixing pays cash for this, and Wufan wants to ask why he hasn’t used his credit card for such a small purchase (why are these toys so cheap?), but Yixing is ushering him out of the door because more workers are starting to stare.
Back out at the car (and we say ‘out at the car’ because Wufan really did a number of finding the farthest available parking spot), Yixing leans against the hood even though Wufan sends him a Look. The other is playing with the plushie he’s holding, fingers carding through the multi-colored fur, playing with the little headphones around his neck. It’s silent and Wufan is still standing rigid, not daring to lean against his God damn Rolls Royce and how is Yixing so filthy rich and yet acts like a ten year old?
“My dad sent out for a chauffeur because I usually don’t leave the hotel room when we travel,” Yixing says suddenly.
Wufan wants to ask why a grown man is still being toted around with his parents, but it could be for various reasons. Yixing could be leeching off of them, Yixing could be next in line to whatever business his father deals with, or Yixing could actually be fourteen.
“I didn’t think he’d send me the Kindergarten Cop.” Yixing quirks a grin, dimple indenting his cheek and Wufan has the decency to blush a little.
“You’re a little… different than my normal clientele.”
Yixing’s head tilts, and Wufan belatedly realizes that he’s hardly said a word this whole time. Two hours with this guy in his car and Yixing has done all the talking.
“Different is good, right?” There’s a playful glint in Yixing’s eyes, and he throws his plushie at Wufan, who catches it out of reflex. “Mr. Chauffeur, what do you recommend to a homebody that never steps outside his house unless he’s forced to?”
“What do you like?” Wufan asks.
“You,” Yixing replies.
Wufan’s cap gets knocked off of his head when Yixing tugs him down for a hot, open-mouthed kiss, the accessory thunking against the hood of the car and then rolling off onto the asphalt. Wufan opens his mouth to the questing tongue and Yixing’s fingers are twisted into the skinny tie currently cutting off a bit of the oxygen trying to pass through Wufan’s lungs, and soon enough Yixing’s back is against the hood of the car and Wufan is hovering over him, taking control of the kiss. There’s something intoxicating about Yixing -- how closed off yet carefree he is. His smile, the way his eyes flash, how his hair rests over his brow, the fact that he clearly eats like shit but has such a perfect body.
There’s a gasp in the distance and Wufan breaks the kiss just in time to see a horrified mom ushering her kids to the other side of her mini van and Wufan immediately pulls away, Yixing laughing and pushing at his chest.
“Let’s go, Mr. Driver.” Yixing rounds the side of the car to the passenger door and Wufan unlocks it in a bit of a daze, almost forgetting to grab his cap before he moves into the car and shuts the doors.
Yixing fidgets with the GPS, and then fixes Wufan with a heavy gaze, “Come back to my hotel with me.”
Wufan doesn’t need to be told twice.
--
With Yixing’s parents out to the gala for the remainder of the evening, Wufan doesn’t feel bad about slamming Yixing up against the wall the second they cross the threshold. Yixing doesn’t care, kicking off his shoes and pushing off Wufan’s suit jacket from his shoulders, tossing it carelessly to the floor and Wufan has to force himself to focus on Yixing’s fingers undoing his belt rather than the dry cleaning bill he’s sure to have.
Somehow they make it into the guest suite where Yixing is staying and they topple on the bed and Wufan is impressed that he somehow managed to get Yixing down to his boxers between the front door and here. Yixing scoots up on the bed and Wufan stands at the edge of it, fingers doing their best to not rip the buttons right off his shirt and he shrugs out of the material, shaking it off his arms and tossing it aside, fingers moving to his belt.
“Ah,” Yixing gets up on all fours and practically dives for Wufan’s belt, knocking much larger hands out of the way so he can get to the task.
Slacks and boxers halfway down his thighs, Wufan tangles his fingers in Yixing’s hair when cute, deadly fingers wrap around the base of his cock and squeeze, guiding the head of his dick to wet, split-slicked lips. Yixing gives head like he gives directions -- insistently, yet carefree. His tongue is hot and perfect and his jaw is slack but he’s doing it with such ease that Wufan wonders how many blowjobs he’s given before. It’s none of his business, but his fingers tighten possessively in Yixing’s dark blond hair anyway.
Leaning over, Wufan moves his hand down the curve of Yixing’s spine, down to his covered ass. His fingers catch the waistband of Yixing’s boxer briefs and give it a tight snap, causing Yixing to keen against his flesh, the vibration traveling to the pit of Wufan’s gut. He pushes the undergarments down a bit, both hands groping and squeezing Yixing’s ass, pulling and spreading the cheeks, a dry thumb sliding over Yixing’s hole. Yixing comes off his dick with a wet pop and his eyes are glossed over, but that stupid hazy smile is still on his lips and Wufan wants to kiss it off his face.
But there’s more pressing matters to attend to.
Like the fact Yixing is already bucking back onto his dry fingers, hole quivering and clenching and begging to be filled.
It takes some maneuvering but soon enough they’re situated on the bed, Wufan’s back against the headboard, Yixing straddling his lap as the driver slides lubed fingers slowly in and out of Yixing’s body. The smaller of the two is writhing, moaning and bucking down and Wufan has three in, working them all at once to get them to press up against Yixing’s walls and relax him and open him up. He starts working his pinky in, idly curious to see how much Yixing can take exactly, but Yixing is grabbing a condom from his discarded jeans and tearing it open with his teeth. Cliche, really, but Wufan lets out a soft groan of appreciation because Yixing’s mouth is perfect and watching it cause destruction, whether on a condom wrapper or sucking marks into Wufan’s hips, is absolute nirvana.
Just as Yixing positions himself over Wufan’s achingly hard cock, he pauses, grinning wickedly and climbing off Wufan’s lap. Wufan just groans and tips his head back til it knocks against the headboard but then Yixing is returning, plopping Wufan’s driver’s cap atop his head, flattening his perfectly coiffed hair.
“There,” Yixing declares, and without another warning seats himself on Wufan’s cock.
It’s explosive.
Yixing is still so tight, despite the stretch of four fingers and Wufan’s got two handfuls of his ass, fingers digging into the flesh, sandwiched on the tops of his thighs. Oh, it’s glorious. Yixing’s thighs flex and Wufan glances down, watching the planes of muscle tighten and loosen underneath pale skin and holy hell, Yixing’s body is perfect. Lithe and slender and masculine and powerful and his cock is curved so pretty up against his tummy as he fucks himself onto Wufan’s cock and Wufan almost feels bad for barely being able to help, but what can he do? Yixing’s tightness is drying up his throat the threat of coming prematurely is very real.
“Do you know how hot you are?”
Oh. Yixing is a talker. Wufan knew that though. He should have predicted it would carry over into the bedroom.
Wufan just grunts a little, bending his knees slightly and planting his feet into the bed so that his dick angles up into Yixing differently. Yixing whines, spine arching, fingers digging into Wufan’s shoulders before his nails drag down over the broad expanse of the driver’s chest. A rough, dirty, impatient fuck and Wufan is helping Yixing bounce on his cock, swear words never having sounded so perfect before in Wufan’s twenty-three years of living. Yixing apparently loses enough coherency to not talk anymore and while Wufan likes the sound of his voice, he’d much rather focus on the way Yixing’s ass clenches around his dick like it wants to rip it off.
His fingers slide inwards, spreading Yixing’s ass cheeks as far as they’ll stretch and each index finger slides into Yixing’s hole, snug right up beside his dick and Yixing croons at the added stretch, taking it like a champ. Wufan thought he would. He wishes that they were in the privacy of his own apartment, with a few extra toys because he’d really like to spend some time unraveling Yixing totally. But for now, working in the next two digits, four fingers plus his thick cock should be enough to sate them both. It takes some of the pressure away from his cock and he feels less like his orgasm is going to come embarrassingly soon, the sound of skin slapping on skin resounding throughout the room, which doesn’t even have a door to it. This is compromising.
Wufan doesn’t give a flying fuck.
Yixing is the first to lost it, to Wufan’s satisfaction. He tightens deliciously around Wufan’s fingers and cock and his cum comes out in beautiful, hot spurts, dropping onto Wufan’s chest and stomach and when Yixing’s body is trembling from the high Wufan hauls him up and uses his size to lay Yixing on his back, knees to his chest as Wufan starts to drill into him. Yixing howls and twists the bed sheets in his hand and it takes one, two, three thrusts for Wufan to feel his balls draw taught and he pulls out at the last second, ripping off the condom and jerking his load onto the curve of Yixing’s ass and the milky flesh of his thighs.
They catch their breath for about thirty seconds, and then hear the door to the hotel room jolt a little.
Yixing’s eyes widen and Wufan’s heart stops.
“Dad,” Yixing whispers.
Wufan has never dressed so fast in his life, not even bothering to clean up the cum on his skin. He buttons his shirt over it and throws on his blazer and runs a hand through his hair -- Yixing helps, finding Wufan’s tie and doing the fastest knot Wufan has ever seen, and Wufan is completely dressed, shoes and all when the hotel door opens. There’s about ten seconds before Mr. Zhang comes in to check on his son and Yixing draws Wufan into a breathless kiss, smirking against his lips.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Driver.” Yixing throws himself onto his bed, draws up all his covers, and pretends to sleep.
Wufan straightens his back just as Mr. Zhang walks in, a questioning look on the older man’s features.
“He drank,” Wufan says a bit stiffly as he pulls on his driving gloves.
Mr. Zhang sighs, “At least he had a night on the town. I worry for him sometimes.”
Wufan smirks a little as he tips his hat with his pointer finger, passing by Mr. Zhang a lot cooler than he’d ever give himself credit for, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Mr. Zhang.”
“You’re the best driver we’ve had, Mr. Wu.” Mr. Zhang holds his hand out for a shake.
Wufan opts for a bow because his hand, even though gloved, is still the same hand that was stroking off this guy’s son not ten minutes ago.
“We’ll call you next time we’re in Seoul.”
“Please,” Wufan smirks a little as he makes towards the door. “By all means, do.”
He hears Yixing snort in amusement and Wufan closes the door just after hearing a ‘what did Wufan show you tonight?’, the response being a high-pitched laugh.
Wufan is the best at his job.
Tonight was the best tip he’s ever gotten.
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