My Hands to Myself [Prompt #66]
Title: My Hands to Myself
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5,700 words
Warnings: none
Summary: Yixing’s never been so mortified or so grateful for his dorm’s thin walls.
Notes: A million thanks to the mods for being so great and patient! Thanks H for giving me advice and help along the way!~
Impatience thrums under Yixing’s skin as he glances at the clock for the third time in the last minute. It’s terrible, he knows, but his roommate is going to be out of the room for the first time in almost two weeks and he can’t help but be excited. Kyungsoo has been bedridden for what feels like forever, ever since he caught whatever nasty bug was going around campus. And as a result, Yixing hasn’t had alone time for, well, much too long. So he feels it’s only natural to be a little… anxious.
Up at the front of the classroom, the professor appears to have noticed Yixing’s awkward half-stand. She clears her throat and Yixing sits back down, face burning. But after a quick reminder of this weekend’s homework, the class is finally dismissed.
Yixing loads on his winter gear with unprecedented speed. Coatscarfhatgloves--oops. While reaching for his water bottle, Yixing’s elbow shoots backwards into some poor person’s gut.
“I’m so sorry!” Yixing wails, almost drowning out his victim’s assurance that it’s perfectly fine. A second really, don’t worry about it catches Yixing’s ear, and he realizes that the voice is coming from much higher up that he’d expected. Turning around, Yixing has to tilt his head up to make eye contact with the guy he’d just rammed.
He’s not quite so keen to get home now. As if the guy’s height wasn’t enough, he also has a perfect face--regal cheekbones (god, Yixing thinks, regal sounds so dopey but it’s so true) and a strong brow, framing a long, straight nose that sits atop almost pouty lips. Yixing audibly swallows.
“I’m sorry about that,” he repeats, words flowing out in one breath. And on second thought, Yixing actually has one new reason to get back to his empty room. He wouldn’t think something so lewd if it weren’t already on his mind, but jeez. This guy is spank bank material for sure. Or boyfriend material, he adds.
The tall guy shifts, clearly aware of Yixing’s scrutiny. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, then glances down at his feet. This whole encounter is taking way too long.
Yixing suppresses a giggle when the guy tries to nod and cock his head at the same time, instead forcing out his own half-nod half-twitch and going back to his backpack. He wonders why he doesn't know the man's name, deciding it's because of the larger class size when he finally tucks his water bottle into its pocket. Still, he looks oddly familiar.
Weird as that not-quite-conversation was, it definitely helped Yixing slow down. His phone shows 1:53 pm and he figures there's plenty of time to grab a drink before Kyungsoo's class ends. Smile on his face, Yixing exits the classroom and meanders downstairs to the campus cafe.
Looks like quite a few people had the same idea. The line stretches to lunch rush proportions and only keeps growing, one tired-faced student after another. The taste of an anticipated cherry italian soda lingers on Yixing's tongue and he decides he might as well. If the gods don't want him to masturbate today then he should probably go with it. He might as well get a nice drink out of it too.
The registers grow ever so slowly closer. Yixing doesn't move for at least 10 minutes, he thinks. In the time he's been waiting two cafe workers have disappeared, leaving only one poor guy to manage the whole thing. And when Yixing finally reaches the front, the last worker standing is the guy he'd victimized not half an hour ago.
"Today is just not your day, is it?" he jokes, eyes flitting to the guy's nametag while they chuckle in that we're-strangers-but-not-quite way. It says his name is Yifan. That's nice.
The guy--Yifan--coughs and Yixing's realizes he's been quiet for a few seconds too long. "Oh!" he starts, "I'd like a large cherry italian soda, please." Yifan reads off the total and takes Yixing's proffered card, swiping it and only fumbling a little when he hands over the receipt. Then he scurries over to the drink station to make Yixing's order.
Yixing follows, unsure whether or not to make more uncomfortable conversation. He's saved the opportunity to make a choice when Yifan's overworked voice asks him if he'd like extra syrup. When Yixing nods excitedly, Yifan smiles and mumbles something that Yixing swears sounds just like you look like an extra syrup kind of guy.
He takes the finished drink with a silly grin--he supposes he does look like an extra syrup kind of guy. Yifan's smile in return keeps Yixing from worrying when he notices that he only has an hour before Kyungsoo will be home.
By the time he reaches his room, Yixing realizes that a cold drink wasn't the best idea. His fingers ache a little when he stashes the italian soda in his fridge. He pays it no mind; he has other things to attend to at the moment.
Kyungsoo's empty bed is a sight for sore eyes. Yixing tosses his backpack next to his coat and shoes, extracting his headphones from a pocket and unbuttoning his jeans. His sheets are pleasantly chilly when he climbs under the comforter. His phone says he's got 45 minutes. Enough, but not exactly as much as he'd like--it's been a really long time.
One earbud in, private browser window opened, Yixing jumps when he hears a knock on the door. A groan builds up in his throat and he throws the blankets off, buttoning up his jeans and doing his best to look half-awake. He exhales as he opens the door, making a show of yawning.
"Yixing, thank god you're home! I have got to tell you something." Baekhyun pushes past him and sits on Kyungsoo's bed. Yixing rolls his eyes and turns back around to face the intruder, fake-yawning again.
"You don't have to pretend you were napping, dude. Kyungsoo told me you've been nearly jumping out of your skin for the last two weeks," Baekhyun says like he’s discussing the weather. Yixing stills, dumbfounded, and blinks a few times.
"Well. Okay." He's about to sit down on his bed and endure whatever gossip Baekhyun's found when something occurs to him. "Why are you interrupting me then, if you know?"
Baekhyun grins so big his canines show, making him look more predatory than usual. "I have my reasons," he says, "but mainly, I just found out something that is way more important than whatever crappy video you were watching."
Yixing hadn't even picked out a video yet, hadn't even typed in the address of his favorite tube site. He decides to humor Baekhyun anyways and makes an exaggerated sad face over at him.
"No, listen," Baekhyun urges. "Kyungsoo kissed Sehun." He sits there, eyes wide, waiting for Yixing's response.
"Really? That's awesome! He's been talking about asking Sehun out for a long time now." Yixing is still annoyed at the interruption, but he's happy for his roommate. Kyungsoo's had eyes on Sehun since he saw the lanky freshman at the activities fair a few months ago.
Baekhyun doesn't seem to have the same thoughts. He rolls his eyes at Yixing and mutters, "I knew you would react all boring like that. Ugh." Perhaps he'd been expecting some screaming or something. That's more on par with how Baekhyun behaves when this kind of stuff happens.
"So, since I'm so boring, will you leave me alone?" Yixing flutters his eyelashes and tries not to worry as he hears one of his neighbors get home.
"Fine," Baekhyun sniffs, getting up and crossing the room to the door. "But before I leave, pretend you don't know about Kyungsoo and Sehun. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." He shoots off a wolfish grin and leaves, the noises of his quiet laughter echoing down the hallway until he goes up the stairwell.
Finally. Yixing locks the door again and climbs back under his covers. His phone says he has 30 minutes now. Better make it a short video; he wants to be good and decent and not-at-all-suspicious when Kyungsoo comes back.
Yixing's site loads and he taps his way to his favorite channel. He really should look into getting a subscription, all this porn piracy makes him feel a little guilty. But he's got other things to think about. The channel has a new video up and a glance at the clock says it's the perfect length. He taps it, disregarding the cheesy title. Gay porn is a minefield and he's willing to overlook "hot college stud rams tiny twink HARD" if the video is good.
Thirty seconds in and he can tell it’s mediocre at best, but oh well. He’s already here. His cold fingertips shock his skin when he reaches under the covers, maneuvering under his still-on underwear. (Maximum insurance against being found out, he thinks, pretending to forget Baekhyun’s comment about Kyungsoo already suspecting the nature of his nefarious plans.)
Eyes glued to the small screen, Yixing watches as a slim man enters the frame and sits down on a couch next to a similarly-clad, albeit larger guy. He’s wearing a sad, sagging backpack and tight shorts that must be downright uncomfortable. The usual “subtle” music plays in the background, making the corner of his mouth twitch up. Yixing skips his way through what must be some sort of fake conversation about studying and finally finds the good stuff.
Now six minutes in and the smaller one’s mouth is stretched tight over his co-star’s thickness. It’s an impressive penis, really, and Yixing isn’t sure which one of these guys he’d rather be. The music fades out and the moans get louder as the action gets hotter. Yixing fists his fingers around his hardening cock, eyes scraping over the visual of the two men.
The video cuts to a new scene--now, the larger man is positioned behind and over the smaller one. Yixing watches as the man pushes in, slowly, the camera capturing every detail in a POV shot. The other man lets out a lascivious moan when he’s totally full, and Yixing can’t help the matching noise that escapes him. He really should care more, but it’s been way too long and he’s way too hard.
Now the video picks up speed, flashing several angles of different positions. Each cut surprises and delights Yixing in the way porn can only do when you’re irreversibly turned on. He finds himself letting more and more groans slip out, worrying less and less about being heard.
He’s just about to hit his peak when the sound of the video seems to double or fall out of sync or something. Yixing notes it, decides it’s weird, but he knows free porn will never be a hundred percent. With a sigh, he accepts it. And hey, now he gets to listen to two tracks of moans. At least that’s what he says to himself when he goes back to the speed he was at before the interruption.
The second set of moans gets louder then, threatening to overpower the original video sound. This… isn’t all that bad though. The new moans are breathier, sexier. They sound so much more real. Yixing’s fingers tighten as he focuses in on the sounds, closing his eyes and opening his mouth. Heavy pants escape him as he chases his orgasm, dropping his phone and using his other hand to brace his left wrist as it speeds up, impossibly fast.
He knows that someone, anyone, could hear him, but god, it’s been forever. He deserves to be a little irresponsible. Besides, everyone masturbates. Everyone on this floor has probably been in this state--hazy-eyed and red-faced and every muscle tensing up in a silent scream as their orgasm spills out of them, leaves them gasping for breath and frantically trying not to return to reality.
And a few seconds later, they’ve all realized that they’ve made a sticky mess of themselves. Yixing lets out one final, drawn-out sigh of relief before he throws his blankets off him. That was so good that he almost doesn’t mind the rush to clean up. Those out-of-sync moans still echo in his head as he removes his headphones and closes the finished video.
The air freshener is just where he put it this morning in preparation. Yixing gives his bed a hearty spray, even getting between the sheets. Satisfied with the air quality, he grabs a tissue and wipes off his cock. His hands are still suspiciously warm and sticky, however, so he buttons up his jeans and makes for the bathroom.
As he places his hand on the doorknob and turns it, he hears the door of the room just next to him do the same thing. He’s doing his best to avoid thinking about the errors in judgement he just made. If his next-door neighbor was home then they might have just heard everything.
Be cool, he thinks, panicking anyway. Yixing boldly presses on into the hallway, putting on his best I’ve-never-masturbated-in-my-life face. He knows he’s still blushing, but maybe his neighbor won’t be going to the bathroom.
Or they will be going to the bathroom, and they’ll follow a little too closely behind Yixing the entire time. He’s never wished he lived next to the bathroom more than he has in this moment. Not even all those times he’s woken up at 3 a.m. to pee. Not even that time he drank too much and had to run to the nearest toilet to vomit.
Yixing relaxes his shoulders and stares at the approaching bathroom door. This walk isn’t supposed to feel so long. But finally, the door is in front of him. The light shining from underneath takes on a holy quality, signifying refuge for the damned. He pushes the wooden door open and beelines for the sinks, realizing too late that he’s given himself away. No one goes and washes their hands without a reason--if his neighbor didn’t know before, he definitely knows now.
The water is freezing cold but Yixing isn’t about to waste time adjusting the temperature. He reaches for the soap dispenser blind, refusing to look up. But today is just not his day. His hand, expecting the hard plastic of the dispenser, instead meets warm skin. Out of shock, he looks up. And it all clicks into place.
It’s the guy from class, from the cafe. Yifan. The hot one. Hot Yifan is his neighbor and Hot Yifan most definitely just heard him masturbating to shitty free porn and Hot Yifan is touching his hand and--holy fuck.
Yifan was the one moaning over Yixing’s video. That means Yifan heard him masturbating to shitty free porn and then started masturbating to Yixing’s moans. That means Yixing was masturbating to Yifan’s moans too.
Yixing hasn’t moved for at least fifteen seconds. Their hands are still touching, locked in some phony war for the soap dispenser. The water is running but Yixing can only hear his heartbeat, pounding to the rhythm of what must be his death march.
“You--” Yixing tries to start.
“So it was--” Yifan interrupts.
Their eyes fall down to their hands and Yixing moves away, reaching for the soap. He goes through the motions of washing his hands, mind reeling. Beside him, Yifan does the same. They finish at the same time--apparently they tend to do that--and have another encounter at the paper towels. This time, Yixing decides that this might as well happen.
“So that happened,” he says with an attempt at the feigned, airy veneer of confidence that he’s seen Baekhyun adopt when he runs into former campus flames. It isn’t a very good attempt, though, and he winces at the squeak in his voice.
Yifan hands him a paper towel. “Yes, I suppose it did,” he answers. They refuse to make eye contact as they dry their hands. Yixing sneaks a glance at Yifan’s hands and wonders how the man makes do with only one paper towel. Something in his gut knots as he pursues other lanes of thought about Yifan’s big hands. He catches himself staring when Yifan wads up the spent towel and tosses it into the trash.
Yixing stands there, meticulously drying each finger completely, and for some reason Yifan waits. Taking a breath in that’s so deep it almost hurts, Yixing turns to look his neighbor slash masturbation partner in the face. It’s still just as handsome, but this time there’s a red shade to his skin, most noticeable on those lovely cheekbones.
“What do we do about it?” Yixing asks, unsure if there’s even an answer to the question. He makes a point of keeping his gaze on Yifan’s face. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and maybe the surreality is making him feel bolder. It’s already come too far for either of them to pretend this didn’t happen and walk back down the hallway together.
Yixing breaks his eye contact rule to watch Yifan’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows audibly. Fearing he might start to look other places and imagine hearing those breathy moans in person, he snaps his attention back to Yifan’s face. His eyebrows raise of their own accord when Yifan’s cheeks start to burn anew.
“My roommate won’t be back until tomorrow,” Yifan chokes out, slapping one of his giant palms over his mouth as soon as he’s spit out the last word. Heat sparks in Yixing’s core as he realizes what Yifan’s just said. “Is that a proposition?” he nearly whispers, afraid of the answer.
The bathroom suddenly seems much too small when Yifan reaches for Yixing, taking a step closer and resting a hand on the curve of his back. With a nerve Yixing hadn’t expected, Yifan hunches over to Yixing’s eye-level and nods. And to continue the surprises, Yixing closes the distance and presses himself to Yifan’s lean frame, extends an arm to grope at whatever he can reach.
Yixing has left the bathroom in a hurry quite a few times before. Late for class, barely enough time for breakfast, stuff like that. But this time, his hasty exit is with another person and for an entirely new reason. Yifan’s long legs rocket him down the hallway much faster than Yixing can manage, and he disappears into his room before Yixing is halfway there. Probably cleaning up, he decides.
Yixing reaches his neighbor’s door and pauses. This is a little fast. Yifan seems nice, if a little weird. Maybe nice enough to have sex with more than once. Maybe nice enough to date. He shakes his head--Yifan is waiting. He can work through this later because right now is not at all the time. Yixing makes a mental note to ask Yifan out after this, then throws away his sappy thoughts of coffee and studying together.
He opens the door and finds it blocked. Yifan is standing right behind it, bless him, trying to open it himself. The tension breaks when they laugh, exchanging soft apologies as Yixing enters the room and sits on the nearest bed. “Guess I’ve got a habit of ramming into you,” he says, eyes twinkling as he catches his own accidental innuendo.
Yifan swallows, loud in the tight space, and looks down at the ground. The pink creeping up his neck is still visible, though, and Yixing’s throat goes dry. He scrambles, “Oh gosh, I mean, only if that's what you wanted! We don't even have to go that far and I certainly don't wanna pressure you into anything that makes you uncomfortable--”
“No! That's… that's sorta exactly what I was thinking about,” Yifan cuts him off, plopping down next to him. “The only thing is, uh, this is my roommate’s bed and he wouldn't appreciate us… You know. On his bed.” He points to his own bed on the other side of the room. “We should be on mine.”
It’s covered in stuffed animals. Yixing grins, getting up and plodding over to examine them all. “I like this one,” he says, holding up a stuffed sheep. Yifan’s face softens as he takes it out of Yixing’s hands and lets it fall to the floor (which, Yixing notices, is not nearly as clean as it was on the unnamed roommate’s side).
At such close proximity, Yixing can feel the little puffs of Yifan’s breath wisp over the top of his head. He looks up, one hand reaching to grip the back of Yifan’s thin t-shirt. Their bodies are close enough to share heat and Yixing notes Yifan's speedy heartbeat with satisfaction. He whispers, voice hoarse, “Are you sure?”
Yifan nods so quickly that Yixing has to dodge his chin. Danger avoided, he stands on his tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on Yifan's lips. They're surprisingly soft, their warmth urging him on as he kisses harder. His left hand moves and finds purchase on Yifan’s shoulder, fingers tightening to pull him nearer.
They fall back on the bed all at once, Yixing managing to maneuver himself on top. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, only getting his head stuck for a few seconds. With a little more work, Yifan's shirt joins the pile of discarded clothes on the floor as well.
He's not exactly muscular, Yixing notes, but not bony either. The kind of slim that hides how strong someone actually is. Yixing leans down to pepper kisses on Yifan’s prominent collar bones, lingering when he tries to suck a mark into the smooth skin. Beneath him, Yifan groans and weaves a hand in his hair.
A sharp tug has Yixing kissing up Yifan's neck until their lips meet again, wetter and more insistent than before. Yixing’s jeans have never been so uncomfortably tight and he can tell Yifan feels similarly. Without breaking their kiss, he reaches between them and undoes Yifan’s jeans. Shaky fingers struggle with the zipper but he manages eventually. He unzips his own jeans before sitting up, lips warm and slick.
In a move that Yixing probably should have seen coming, Yifan grabs hold of his hips and flips their positions. He rests his weight between Yixing’s folded-up legs, grinding down hard enough to make Yixing groan this time. A brief pause to yank his jeans down to his knees and he’s back, leaning over Yixing and giving him the same teasing treatment he’d just been on the receiving end of.
Still in shock, Yixing whines at the discomfort of his own jeans and at the frustration of being so close without the satisfaction that should come with it. Obliging, Yifan makes his clumsy way through shucking off both pairs of jeans and tossing them to the floor. Only one layer left.
They look each other up and down, both of them trying to be sly about it. Yixing meets Yifan’s gaze again, laughter in his eyes. “Like what you see?” he chirps, grabbing at Yifan’s hips.
“Mmhmm,” Yifan mumbles, face buried back in Yixing’s neck. “Excited to hear, too,” he adds. A thrill shoots through Yixing when he remembers that he gets to hear the moans from earlier, and in person too. He gets to make them happen.
The thought energizes him and he moves to sit up, but one of Yifan’s hands presses his chest back down. The hand is replaced by kisses strewn over his chest, his stomach, marking the waistband of his underwear. Yixing understands and raises his hips, only a little nervous when Yifan looks him in the eye and pulls his last layer off.
The cold air hits and Yixing braces himself, jerking again when Yifan lightly wraps a hand around his half-hard cock. Now, Yixing isn’t small. He knows that; he even thinks he’s a little bigger than average. But Yifan’s hand dwarfs his length completely. If the visual is a bit of a blow to the ego, the feeling of being totally enveloped more than makes up for it.
Yifan grips tighter and Yixing struggles not to gasp, promptly failing when Yifan twists his hand as he moves it upward. He notes the satisfied smirk on his neighbor’s face and vows to get him back later. For now, though, he wants to enjoy this. He lays back and rests his head on his arm, the other arm reaching down to Yifan’s hair.
It’s nice and soft, his hair, and Yixing loves the feeling of it between his fingers, especially combined with the way Yifan flicks his wrist just right. Closing his eyes, he focuses his energy on the two sensations.
Yifan sees him close his eyes and apparently decides in that moment, leaning down and just barely licking the tip of Yixing’s dick, tongue gone as soon as Yixing can realize what happened. He does it again, smiling at the way Yixing’s thighs tense up on either side of him. And finally, the third time, Yixing lets go of a moan he’s been trying to hold in since Yifan started touching him.
Urged on, Yifan lets Yixing’s cock slip further into his mouth and wraps his lips around it. He swishes his tongue all over, bobbing slowly up and down. It’s maddening, Yixing thinks, luxuriating in the tension, the wait.
That shatters when Yifan suddenly takes all of Yixing into his mouth, holding himself down at the base and tracing patterns with his tongue. Yixing moans in earnest now, fingers pulling at Yifan’s hair as he tries not to thrust upwards. His hips twitch and Yifan gags, doing his best to accommodate the motion. The heat of Yifan’s mouth pulls up a bit, replaced by two of his fingers curled in a tight ring. An insistent tap on Yixing’s thigh gives permission, and he cants his hips into Yifan’s mouth.
Slowly at first, trying to make sure Yifan is okay, Yixing continues to thrust. When he appears to be handling it fine, Yixing tries something harder, faster. Yifan moans, throat vibrating in the most pleasant way, and Yixing almost loses it then and there. He slows, giving himself time to recover, then tries again. Yifan moans louder, encouraging him. Yixing obliges, fucking into Yifan’s mouth with about as much strength as his can manage in this position. It’s incredible--Yixing can’t believe someone can even do this.
Yifan seems to love it, skillfully managing his breathing while still pressing his tongue to the underside of Yixing’s dick. When Yifan’s lips tighten at the edges as he tries to smile, Yixing knows he has to stop. This isn’t how he wants to come, no matter how good it feels. He’s been formulating a plan ever since Yifan told him he’d like Yixing to fuck him.
He pulls out and wipes a thumb over Yifan’s swollen lips. “I can’t believe you’ve been just next door all semester,” he laughs. Yifan smiles and Yixing could swear he feels it in his chest. He files that away, something to think about later.
Now, though, Yixing extricates himself from Yifan’s long arms and stands at the edge of the bed. He reads the want on Yifan’s face and can’t resist another kiss, hand wrapping around Yifan’s neck. Through the kiss he mumbles, “You were so good. I’m gonna make you feel just as good, okay?”
Yifans nods too fast again, knocking their foreheads together. “Okay, babe, would you lay back for me?” Yixing smiles when Yifan quickly spreads himself out over the bed, skin flushed and eyes wide. He climbs between Yifan’s legs, indulging him with another kiss, before he spreads Yifan’s thighs apart. Yixing stops, realizing he’s forgotten to ask about lube and condoms and whatnot.
“Between the mattress and the bedframe,” Yifan offers when he catches the confusion on his face. Yixing reaches and finds it all there. Clever hiding spot, really. He rubs some of the lube on his fingers and tosses it to the side, somewhere near the pillows. The condom he keeps next to him.
Gentler than he thought he could manage, Yixing presses his middle finger inside of Yifan. It doesn’t go in easy, but he pauses whenever he meets resistance before pressing on. While Yifan takes deep breaths Yixing plants wet kisses on his hips, his thighs, whatever he can reach. Yixing’s finger bottoms out and Yifan lets out a sigh, visibly relaxing. “It’s been a while,” he explains with a small smile.
“Better for me then--you’ll be easier to impress,” Yixing quips back as he slowly curls his finger for emphasis. Yifan’s mouth drops open as Yixing starts to pull his finger out, keeping it curled. He continues the motion for a few more strokes, eventually adding his index finger.
Now, with two fingers pumping in and out, Yixing tilts his face toward Yifan’s hardening cock. Unlike Yifan, he wastes no time and quickly maneuvers his mouth around Yifan’s hardness. In a show of will, Yixing manages to bob his head up and down while keeping up a steady pace with his fingers.
And there it is: Yifan lets out the same string of breathy moans that Yixing had loved so much earlier. It’s even better causing it, he decides, and speeds himself up. Yifan’s body is taking his fingers in with ease and Yixing adds another, relishing the force behind the noises Yifan makes in response to the addition.
Yixing would be happy to continue this for another twenty minutes or so, but Yifan’s already tugging at his hair and whining these tiny little fuck mes. The words send heat through Yixing’s body, scorching up his spine. Combined with Yifan’s flushed face and even more flushed cock, Yixing doesn’t think it’d be fair to continue torturing him like this.
In an uncanny mirror of the video he'd watched earlier Yixing finds himself kneeling behind Yifan, who is on all fours. He slips the condom on and lines himself up, trying not to think about how unbelievable this whole situation is. Instead, he concentrates on the sensation of sliding into Yifan--stretched out for him, pleading for him.
Much like earlier, the visual has him wanting to come then and there. But he doesn't, because Yifan has put up with all of his foreplay and deserves more than a few thrusts. He goes slow at first, delighting in the slick slide of Yifan around him, pulling more languid moans out of his neighbor.
Yifan, helplessly tall, is folded up on the small twin mattress and doing his best to throw his hips back despite Yixing's firm grip. With each meeting of Yixing's skin against Yifan's they get a little bit faster, control escaping them both.
Testing the waters, Yixing releases Yifan's hips and waits, attempting to maintain his modest pace. He'd like to keep his hands free to touch and grab and spank, but without sacrificing time. Yifan has other plans, apparently. He bucks back without much coordination, making the bedsprings creak even more than they had been before. Well, if that's what he wants, then Yixing can certainly give it to him. He gets the feeling this won't be the last time they do this.
Ever an obliging partner, Yixing re-establishes his hold on Yifan and shuffles his knees to get the best leverage. Yifan seems to know what's coming and arches his back just enough to get the right angle. A grateful Yixing squeezes with his right hand to acknowledge the action.
Now, taking a deep breath and bracing his muscles, Yixing starts a metronome-rigid pace much faster than his slow and steady beginning. Yifan cries out underneath him, struggling to stay upright and eventually giving up, letting his elbows and knees slide across the sheets until he's pressed flat against the bed. Yixing increases his speed, concentrating so hard he thinks he might implode.
But Yifan, Yifan has to come before he gets to. That's how it works. Sacrificing a bit of his speed, Yixing concentrates on depth. He rolls his hips with each thrust, making sure Yifan's cock rubs against the sheets. He'd normally reach around but this position makes that impossible. So he works with this.
With knees digging into the bed, Yixing rests a bit of his body weight on Yifan. Just enough that he's close enough to mouth at his neck, whisper barely-comprehensible snippets of sentences, muffled so goods. He feels his own orgasm building and doubles his efforts, making sure he hits all the spots inside of Yifan that could undo him.
His work pays off when a whimpering Yifan goes stiff, one hand reaching back to find Yixing's and hold it tightly. "Shit," Yifan grits out as Yixing continues to grind his hips down. Overjoyed at his success and way too turned on, Yixing lets himself come as well. Still more than a little hazy, he kisses Yifan's neck with more spit than he probably would usually use. Yifan doesn't seem to care, still panting and still holding onto Yixing's hand.
He only lets go when he rolls over, front half a sweaty, red mess, and brushes his lips against Yixing's open mouth. Coming together, they go back and forth between light kisses and near-assaults that threaten to turn into another round.
"My roommate will probably be wondering where I am," Yixing finally sighs. Yifan nods in understanding and glances at the clothes on the floor. A look of uneasiness crosses his face and worries Yixing. He doesn't want this to be the last time either. Nor does he want this to be the only thing they do. So he goes for it.
"What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?" He hopes it isn't ambiguous, but just to safeguard he adds, "Looking for a date?" Yifan's eyes light up in the most adorable way and Yixing decides he wants to make that happen every day.
He gets dressed, shooting quips back and forth with a still-naked Yifan. Wishing he could stay, he takes one look back before he leaves the room. One thirty tomorrow afternoon, he'll see Yifan again.
Yixing finds Kyungsoo waiting for him when he finally goes back to his own room. He'd try to come up with some lame excuse, like he was studying or something, but the smile on Kyungsoo's face tells him that his roommate already knows everything.
Right. Thin walls.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5,700 words
Warnings: none
Summary: Yixing’s never been so mortified or so grateful for his dorm’s thin walls.
Notes: A million thanks to the mods for being so great and patient! Thanks H for giving me advice and help along the way!~
Impatience thrums under Yixing’s skin as he glances at the clock for the third time in the last minute. It’s terrible, he knows, but his roommate is going to be out of the room for the first time in almost two weeks and he can’t help but be excited. Kyungsoo has been bedridden for what feels like forever, ever since he caught whatever nasty bug was going around campus. And as a result, Yixing hasn’t had alone time for, well, much too long. So he feels it’s only natural to be a little… anxious.
Up at the front of the classroom, the professor appears to have noticed Yixing’s awkward half-stand. She clears her throat and Yixing sits back down, face burning. But after a quick reminder of this weekend’s homework, the class is finally dismissed.
Yixing loads on his winter gear with unprecedented speed. Coatscarfhatgloves--oops. While reaching for his water bottle, Yixing’s elbow shoots backwards into some poor person’s gut.
“I’m so sorry!” Yixing wails, almost drowning out his victim’s assurance that it’s perfectly fine. A second really, don’t worry about it catches Yixing’s ear, and he realizes that the voice is coming from much higher up that he’d expected. Turning around, Yixing has to tilt his head up to make eye contact with the guy he’d just rammed.
He’s not quite so keen to get home now. As if the guy’s height wasn’t enough, he also has a perfect face--regal cheekbones (god, Yixing thinks, regal sounds so dopey but it’s so true) and a strong brow, framing a long, straight nose that sits atop almost pouty lips. Yixing audibly swallows.
“I’m sorry about that,” he repeats, words flowing out in one breath. And on second thought, Yixing actually has one new reason to get back to his empty room. He wouldn’t think something so lewd if it weren’t already on his mind, but jeez. This guy is spank bank material for sure. Or boyfriend material, he adds.
The tall guy shifts, clearly aware of Yixing’s scrutiny. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, then glances down at his feet. This whole encounter is taking way too long.
Yixing suppresses a giggle when the guy tries to nod and cock his head at the same time, instead forcing out his own half-nod half-twitch and going back to his backpack. He wonders why he doesn't know the man's name, deciding it's because of the larger class size when he finally tucks his water bottle into its pocket. Still, he looks oddly familiar.
Weird as that not-quite-conversation was, it definitely helped Yixing slow down. His phone shows 1:53 pm and he figures there's plenty of time to grab a drink before Kyungsoo's class ends. Smile on his face, Yixing exits the classroom and meanders downstairs to the campus cafe.
Looks like quite a few people had the same idea. The line stretches to lunch rush proportions and only keeps growing, one tired-faced student after another. The taste of an anticipated cherry italian soda lingers on Yixing's tongue and he decides he might as well. If the gods don't want him to masturbate today then he should probably go with it. He might as well get a nice drink out of it too.
The registers grow ever so slowly closer. Yixing doesn't move for at least 10 minutes, he thinks. In the time he's been waiting two cafe workers have disappeared, leaving only one poor guy to manage the whole thing. And when Yixing finally reaches the front, the last worker standing is the guy he'd victimized not half an hour ago.
"Today is just not your day, is it?" he jokes, eyes flitting to the guy's nametag while they chuckle in that we're-strangers-but-not-quite way. It says his name is Yifan. That's nice.
The guy--Yifan--coughs and Yixing's realizes he's been quiet for a few seconds too long. "Oh!" he starts, "I'd like a large cherry italian soda, please." Yifan reads off the total and takes Yixing's proffered card, swiping it and only fumbling a little when he hands over the receipt. Then he scurries over to the drink station to make Yixing's order.
Yixing follows, unsure whether or not to make more uncomfortable conversation. He's saved the opportunity to make a choice when Yifan's overworked voice asks him if he'd like extra syrup. When Yixing nods excitedly, Yifan smiles and mumbles something that Yixing swears sounds just like you look like an extra syrup kind of guy.
He takes the finished drink with a silly grin--he supposes he does look like an extra syrup kind of guy. Yifan's smile in return keeps Yixing from worrying when he notices that he only has an hour before Kyungsoo will be home.
By the time he reaches his room, Yixing realizes that a cold drink wasn't the best idea. His fingers ache a little when he stashes the italian soda in his fridge. He pays it no mind; he has other things to attend to at the moment.
Kyungsoo's empty bed is a sight for sore eyes. Yixing tosses his backpack next to his coat and shoes, extracting his headphones from a pocket and unbuttoning his jeans. His sheets are pleasantly chilly when he climbs under the comforter. His phone says he's got 45 minutes. Enough, but not exactly as much as he'd like--it's been a really long time.
One earbud in, private browser window opened, Yixing jumps when he hears a knock on the door. A groan builds up in his throat and he throws the blankets off, buttoning up his jeans and doing his best to look half-awake. He exhales as he opens the door, making a show of yawning.
"Yixing, thank god you're home! I have got to tell you something." Baekhyun pushes past him and sits on Kyungsoo's bed. Yixing rolls his eyes and turns back around to face the intruder, fake-yawning again.
"You don't have to pretend you were napping, dude. Kyungsoo told me you've been nearly jumping out of your skin for the last two weeks," Baekhyun says like he’s discussing the weather. Yixing stills, dumbfounded, and blinks a few times.
"Well. Okay." He's about to sit down on his bed and endure whatever gossip Baekhyun's found when something occurs to him. "Why are you interrupting me then, if you know?"
Baekhyun grins so big his canines show, making him look more predatory than usual. "I have my reasons," he says, "but mainly, I just found out something that is way more important than whatever crappy video you were watching."
Yixing hadn't even picked out a video yet, hadn't even typed in the address of his favorite tube site. He decides to humor Baekhyun anyways and makes an exaggerated sad face over at him.
"No, listen," Baekhyun urges. "Kyungsoo kissed Sehun." He sits there, eyes wide, waiting for Yixing's response.
"Really? That's awesome! He's been talking about asking Sehun out for a long time now." Yixing is still annoyed at the interruption, but he's happy for his roommate. Kyungsoo's had eyes on Sehun since he saw the lanky freshman at the activities fair a few months ago.
Baekhyun doesn't seem to have the same thoughts. He rolls his eyes at Yixing and mutters, "I knew you would react all boring like that. Ugh." Perhaps he'd been expecting some screaming or something. That's more on par with how Baekhyun behaves when this kind of stuff happens.
"So, since I'm so boring, will you leave me alone?" Yixing flutters his eyelashes and tries not to worry as he hears one of his neighbors get home.
"Fine," Baekhyun sniffs, getting up and crossing the room to the door. "But before I leave, pretend you don't know about Kyungsoo and Sehun. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." He shoots off a wolfish grin and leaves, the noises of his quiet laughter echoing down the hallway until he goes up the stairwell.
Finally. Yixing locks the door again and climbs back under his covers. His phone says he has 30 minutes now. Better make it a short video; he wants to be good and decent and not-at-all-suspicious when Kyungsoo comes back.
Yixing's site loads and he taps his way to his favorite channel. He really should look into getting a subscription, all this porn piracy makes him feel a little guilty. But he's got other things to think about. The channel has a new video up and a glance at the clock says it's the perfect length. He taps it, disregarding the cheesy title. Gay porn is a minefield and he's willing to overlook "hot college stud rams tiny twink HARD" if the video is good.
Thirty seconds in and he can tell it’s mediocre at best, but oh well. He’s already here. His cold fingertips shock his skin when he reaches under the covers, maneuvering under his still-on underwear. (Maximum insurance against being found out, he thinks, pretending to forget Baekhyun’s comment about Kyungsoo already suspecting the nature of his nefarious plans.)
Eyes glued to the small screen, Yixing watches as a slim man enters the frame and sits down on a couch next to a similarly-clad, albeit larger guy. He’s wearing a sad, sagging backpack and tight shorts that must be downright uncomfortable. The usual “subtle” music plays in the background, making the corner of his mouth twitch up. Yixing skips his way through what must be some sort of fake conversation about studying and finally finds the good stuff.
Now six minutes in and the smaller one’s mouth is stretched tight over his co-star’s thickness. It’s an impressive penis, really, and Yixing isn’t sure which one of these guys he’d rather be. The music fades out and the moans get louder as the action gets hotter. Yixing fists his fingers around his hardening cock, eyes scraping over the visual of the two men.
The video cuts to a new scene--now, the larger man is positioned behind and over the smaller one. Yixing watches as the man pushes in, slowly, the camera capturing every detail in a POV shot. The other man lets out a lascivious moan when he’s totally full, and Yixing can’t help the matching noise that escapes him. He really should care more, but it’s been way too long and he’s way too hard.
Now the video picks up speed, flashing several angles of different positions. Each cut surprises and delights Yixing in the way porn can only do when you’re irreversibly turned on. He finds himself letting more and more groans slip out, worrying less and less about being heard.
He’s just about to hit his peak when the sound of the video seems to double or fall out of sync or something. Yixing notes it, decides it’s weird, but he knows free porn will never be a hundred percent. With a sigh, he accepts it. And hey, now he gets to listen to two tracks of moans. At least that’s what he says to himself when he goes back to the speed he was at before the interruption.
The second set of moans gets louder then, threatening to overpower the original video sound. This… isn’t all that bad though. The new moans are breathier, sexier. They sound so much more real. Yixing’s fingers tighten as he focuses in on the sounds, closing his eyes and opening his mouth. Heavy pants escape him as he chases his orgasm, dropping his phone and using his other hand to brace his left wrist as it speeds up, impossibly fast.
He knows that someone, anyone, could hear him, but god, it’s been forever. He deserves to be a little irresponsible. Besides, everyone masturbates. Everyone on this floor has probably been in this state--hazy-eyed and red-faced and every muscle tensing up in a silent scream as their orgasm spills out of them, leaves them gasping for breath and frantically trying not to return to reality.
And a few seconds later, they’ve all realized that they’ve made a sticky mess of themselves. Yixing lets out one final, drawn-out sigh of relief before he throws his blankets off him. That was so good that he almost doesn’t mind the rush to clean up. Those out-of-sync moans still echo in his head as he removes his headphones and closes the finished video.
The air freshener is just where he put it this morning in preparation. Yixing gives his bed a hearty spray, even getting between the sheets. Satisfied with the air quality, he grabs a tissue and wipes off his cock. His hands are still suspiciously warm and sticky, however, so he buttons up his jeans and makes for the bathroom.
As he places his hand on the doorknob and turns it, he hears the door of the room just next to him do the same thing. He’s doing his best to avoid thinking about the errors in judgement he just made. If his next-door neighbor was home then they might have just heard everything.
Be cool, he thinks, panicking anyway. Yixing boldly presses on into the hallway, putting on his best I’ve-never-masturbated-in-my-life face. He knows he’s still blushing, but maybe his neighbor won’t be going to the bathroom.
Or they will be going to the bathroom, and they’ll follow a little too closely behind Yixing the entire time. He’s never wished he lived next to the bathroom more than he has in this moment. Not even all those times he’s woken up at 3 a.m. to pee. Not even that time he drank too much and had to run to the nearest toilet to vomit.
Yixing relaxes his shoulders and stares at the approaching bathroom door. This walk isn’t supposed to feel so long. But finally, the door is in front of him. The light shining from underneath takes on a holy quality, signifying refuge for the damned. He pushes the wooden door open and beelines for the sinks, realizing too late that he’s given himself away. No one goes and washes their hands without a reason--if his neighbor didn’t know before, he definitely knows now.
The water is freezing cold but Yixing isn’t about to waste time adjusting the temperature. He reaches for the soap dispenser blind, refusing to look up. But today is just not his day. His hand, expecting the hard plastic of the dispenser, instead meets warm skin. Out of shock, he looks up. And it all clicks into place.
It’s the guy from class, from the cafe. Yifan. The hot one. Hot Yifan is his neighbor and Hot Yifan most definitely just heard him masturbating to shitty free porn and Hot Yifan is touching his hand and--holy fuck.
Yifan was the one moaning over Yixing’s video. That means Yifan heard him masturbating to shitty free porn and then started masturbating to Yixing’s moans. That means Yixing was masturbating to Yifan’s moans too.
Yixing hasn’t moved for at least fifteen seconds. Their hands are still touching, locked in some phony war for the soap dispenser. The water is running but Yixing can only hear his heartbeat, pounding to the rhythm of what must be his death march.
“You--” Yixing tries to start.
“So it was--” Yifan interrupts.
Their eyes fall down to their hands and Yixing moves away, reaching for the soap. He goes through the motions of washing his hands, mind reeling. Beside him, Yifan does the same. They finish at the same time--apparently they tend to do that--and have another encounter at the paper towels. This time, Yixing decides that this might as well happen.
“So that happened,” he says with an attempt at the feigned, airy veneer of confidence that he’s seen Baekhyun adopt when he runs into former campus flames. It isn’t a very good attempt, though, and he winces at the squeak in his voice.
Yifan hands him a paper towel. “Yes, I suppose it did,” he answers. They refuse to make eye contact as they dry their hands. Yixing sneaks a glance at Yifan’s hands and wonders how the man makes do with only one paper towel. Something in his gut knots as he pursues other lanes of thought about Yifan’s big hands. He catches himself staring when Yifan wads up the spent towel and tosses it into the trash.
Yixing stands there, meticulously drying each finger completely, and for some reason Yifan waits. Taking a breath in that’s so deep it almost hurts, Yixing turns to look his neighbor slash masturbation partner in the face. It’s still just as handsome, but this time there’s a red shade to his skin, most noticeable on those lovely cheekbones.
“What do we do about it?” Yixing asks, unsure if there’s even an answer to the question. He makes a point of keeping his gaze on Yifan’s face. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and maybe the surreality is making him feel bolder. It’s already come too far for either of them to pretend this didn’t happen and walk back down the hallway together.
Yixing breaks his eye contact rule to watch Yifan’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows audibly. Fearing he might start to look other places and imagine hearing those breathy moans in person, he snaps his attention back to Yifan’s face. His eyebrows raise of their own accord when Yifan’s cheeks start to burn anew.
“My roommate won’t be back until tomorrow,” Yifan chokes out, slapping one of his giant palms over his mouth as soon as he’s spit out the last word. Heat sparks in Yixing’s core as he realizes what Yifan’s just said. “Is that a proposition?” he nearly whispers, afraid of the answer.
The bathroom suddenly seems much too small when Yifan reaches for Yixing, taking a step closer and resting a hand on the curve of his back. With a nerve Yixing hadn’t expected, Yifan hunches over to Yixing’s eye-level and nods. And to continue the surprises, Yixing closes the distance and presses himself to Yifan’s lean frame, extends an arm to grope at whatever he can reach.
Yixing has left the bathroom in a hurry quite a few times before. Late for class, barely enough time for breakfast, stuff like that. But this time, his hasty exit is with another person and for an entirely new reason. Yifan’s long legs rocket him down the hallway much faster than Yixing can manage, and he disappears into his room before Yixing is halfway there. Probably cleaning up, he decides.
Yixing reaches his neighbor’s door and pauses. This is a little fast. Yifan seems nice, if a little weird. Maybe nice enough to have sex with more than once. Maybe nice enough to date. He shakes his head--Yifan is waiting. He can work through this later because right now is not at all the time. Yixing makes a mental note to ask Yifan out after this, then throws away his sappy thoughts of coffee and studying together.
He opens the door and finds it blocked. Yifan is standing right behind it, bless him, trying to open it himself. The tension breaks when they laugh, exchanging soft apologies as Yixing enters the room and sits on the nearest bed. “Guess I’ve got a habit of ramming into you,” he says, eyes twinkling as he catches his own accidental innuendo.
Yifan swallows, loud in the tight space, and looks down at the ground. The pink creeping up his neck is still visible, though, and Yixing’s throat goes dry. He scrambles, “Oh gosh, I mean, only if that's what you wanted! We don't even have to go that far and I certainly don't wanna pressure you into anything that makes you uncomfortable--”
“No! That's… that's sorta exactly what I was thinking about,” Yifan cuts him off, plopping down next to him. “The only thing is, uh, this is my roommate’s bed and he wouldn't appreciate us… You know. On his bed.” He points to his own bed on the other side of the room. “We should be on mine.”
It’s covered in stuffed animals. Yixing grins, getting up and plodding over to examine them all. “I like this one,” he says, holding up a stuffed sheep. Yifan’s face softens as he takes it out of Yixing’s hands and lets it fall to the floor (which, Yixing notices, is not nearly as clean as it was on the unnamed roommate’s side).
At such close proximity, Yixing can feel the little puffs of Yifan’s breath wisp over the top of his head. He looks up, one hand reaching to grip the back of Yifan’s thin t-shirt. Their bodies are close enough to share heat and Yixing notes Yifan's speedy heartbeat with satisfaction. He whispers, voice hoarse, “Are you sure?”
Yifan nods so quickly that Yixing has to dodge his chin. Danger avoided, he stands on his tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on Yifan's lips. They're surprisingly soft, their warmth urging him on as he kisses harder. His left hand moves and finds purchase on Yifan’s shoulder, fingers tightening to pull him nearer.
They fall back on the bed all at once, Yixing managing to maneuver himself on top. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, only getting his head stuck for a few seconds. With a little more work, Yifan's shirt joins the pile of discarded clothes on the floor as well.
He's not exactly muscular, Yixing notes, but not bony either. The kind of slim that hides how strong someone actually is. Yixing leans down to pepper kisses on Yifan’s prominent collar bones, lingering when he tries to suck a mark into the smooth skin. Beneath him, Yifan groans and weaves a hand in his hair.
A sharp tug has Yixing kissing up Yifan's neck until their lips meet again, wetter and more insistent than before. Yixing’s jeans have never been so uncomfortably tight and he can tell Yifan feels similarly. Without breaking their kiss, he reaches between them and undoes Yifan’s jeans. Shaky fingers struggle with the zipper but he manages eventually. He unzips his own jeans before sitting up, lips warm and slick.
In a move that Yixing probably should have seen coming, Yifan grabs hold of his hips and flips their positions. He rests his weight between Yixing’s folded-up legs, grinding down hard enough to make Yixing groan this time. A brief pause to yank his jeans down to his knees and he’s back, leaning over Yixing and giving him the same teasing treatment he’d just been on the receiving end of.
Still in shock, Yixing whines at the discomfort of his own jeans and at the frustration of being so close without the satisfaction that should come with it. Obliging, Yifan makes his clumsy way through shucking off both pairs of jeans and tossing them to the floor. Only one layer left.
They look each other up and down, both of them trying to be sly about it. Yixing meets Yifan’s gaze again, laughter in his eyes. “Like what you see?” he chirps, grabbing at Yifan’s hips.
“Mmhmm,” Yifan mumbles, face buried back in Yixing’s neck. “Excited to hear, too,” he adds. A thrill shoots through Yixing when he remembers that he gets to hear the moans from earlier, and in person too. He gets to make them happen.
The thought energizes him and he moves to sit up, but one of Yifan’s hands presses his chest back down. The hand is replaced by kisses strewn over his chest, his stomach, marking the waistband of his underwear. Yixing understands and raises his hips, only a little nervous when Yifan looks him in the eye and pulls his last layer off.
The cold air hits and Yixing braces himself, jerking again when Yifan lightly wraps a hand around his half-hard cock. Now, Yixing isn’t small. He knows that; he even thinks he’s a little bigger than average. But Yifan’s hand dwarfs his length completely. If the visual is a bit of a blow to the ego, the feeling of being totally enveloped more than makes up for it.
Yifan grips tighter and Yixing struggles not to gasp, promptly failing when Yifan twists his hand as he moves it upward. He notes the satisfied smirk on his neighbor’s face and vows to get him back later. For now, though, he wants to enjoy this. He lays back and rests his head on his arm, the other arm reaching down to Yifan’s hair.
It’s nice and soft, his hair, and Yixing loves the feeling of it between his fingers, especially combined with the way Yifan flicks his wrist just right. Closing his eyes, he focuses his energy on the two sensations.
Yifan sees him close his eyes and apparently decides in that moment, leaning down and just barely licking the tip of Yixing’s dick, tongue gone as soon as Yixing can realize what happened. He does it again, smiling at the way Yixing’s thighs tense up on either side of him. And finally, the third time, Yixing lets go of a moan he’s been trying to hold in since Yifan started touching him.
Urged on, Yifan lets Yixing’s cock slip further into his mouth and wraps his lips around it. He swishes his tongue all over, bobbing slowly up and down. It’s maddening, Yixing thinks, luxuriating in the tension, the wait.
That shatters when Yifan suddenly takes all of Yixing into his mouth, holding himself down at the base and tracing patterns with his tongue. Yixing moans in earnest now, fingers pulling at Yifan’s hair as he tries not to thrust upwards. His hips twitch and Yifan gags, doing his best to accommodate the motion. The heat of Yifan’s mouth pulls up a bit, replaced by two of his fingers curled in a tight ring. An insistent tap on Yixing’s thigh gives permission, and he cants his hips into Yifan’s mouth.
Slowly at first, trying to make sure Yifan is okay, Yixing continues to thrust. When he appears to be handling it fine, Yixing tries something harder, faster. Yifan moans, throat vibrating in the most pleasant way, and Yixing almost loses it then and there. He slows, giving himself time to recover, then tries again. Yifan moans louder, encouraging him. Yixing obliges, fucking into Yifan’s mouth with about as much strength as his can manage in this position. It’s incredible--Yixing can’t believe someone can even do this.
Yifan seems to love it, skillfully managing his breathing while still pressing his tongue to the underside of Yixing’s dick. When Yifan’s lips tighten at the edges as he tries to smile, Yixing knows he has to stop. This isn’t how he wants to come, no matter how good it feels. He’s been formulating a plan ever since Yifan told him he’d like Yixing to fuck him.
He pulls out and wipes a thumb over Yifan’s swollen lips. “I can’t believe you’ve been just next door all semester,” he laughs. Yifan smiles and Yixing could swear he feels it in his chest. He files that away, something to think about later.
Now, though, Yixing extricates himself from Yifan’s long arms and stands at the edge of the bed. He reads the want on Yifan’s face and can’t resist another kiss, hand wrapping around Yifan’s neck. Through the kiss he mumbles, “You were so good. I’m gonna make you feel just as good, okay?”
Yifans nods too fast again, knocking their foreheads together. “Okay, babe, would you lay back for me?” Yixing smiles when Yifan quickly spreads himself out over the bed, skin flushed and eyes wide. He climbs between Yifan’s legs, indulging him with another kiss, before he spreads Yifan’s thighs apart. Yixing stops, realizing he’s forgotten to ask about lube and condoms and whatnot.
“Between the mattress and the bedframe,” Yifan offers when he catches the confusion on his face. Yixing reaches and finds it all there. Clever hiding spot, really. He rubs some of the lube on his fingers and tosses it to the side, somewhere near the pillows. The condom he keeps next to him.
Gentler than he thought he could manage, Yixing presses his middle finger inside of Yifan. It doesn’t go in easy, but he pauses whenever he meets resistance before pressing on. While Yifan takes deep breaths Yixing plants wet kisses on his hips, his thighs, whatever he can reach. Yixing’s finger bottoms out and Yifan lets out a sigh, visibly relaxing. “It’s been a while,” he explains with a small smile.
“Better for me then--you’ll be easier to impress,” Yixing quips back as he slowly curls his finger for emphasis. Yifan’s mouth drops open as Yixing starts to pull his finger out, keeping it curled. He continues the motion for a few more strokes, eventually adding his index finger.
Now, with two fingers pumping in and out, Yixing tilts his face toward Yifan’s hardening cock. Unlike Yifan, he wastes no time and quickly maneuvers his mouth around Yifan’s hardness. In a show of will, Yixing manages to bob his head up and down while keeping up a steady pace with his fingers.
And there it is: Yifan lets out the same string of breathy moans that Yixing had loved so much earlier. It’s even better causing it, he decides, and speeds himself up. Yifan’s body is taking his fingers in with ease and Yixing adds another, relishing the force behind the noises Yifan makes in response to the addition.
Yixing would be happy to continue this for another twenty minutes or so, but Yifan’s already tugging at his hair and whining these tiny little fuck mes. The words send heat through Yixing’s body, scorching up his spine. Combined with Yifan’s flushed face and even more flushed cock, Yixing doesn’t think it’d be fair to continue torturing him like this.
In an uncanny mirror of the video he'd watched earlier Yixing finds himself kneeling behind Yifan, who is on all fours. He slips the condom on and lines himself up, trying not to think about how unbelievable this whole situation is. Instead, he concentrates on the sensation of sliding into Yifan--stretched out for him, pleading for him.
Much like earlier, the visual has him wanting to come then and there. But he doesn't, because Yifan has put up with all of his foreplay and deserves more than a few thrusts. He goes slow at first, delighting in the slick slide of Yifan around him, pulling more languid moans out of his neighbor.
Yifan, helplessly tall, is folded up on the small twin mattress and doing his best to throw his hips back despite Yixing's firm grip. With each meeting of Yixing's skin against Yifan's they get a little bit faster, control escaping them both.
Testing the waters, Yixing releases Yifan's hips and waits, attempting to maintain his modest pace. He'd like to keep his hands free to touch and grab and spank, but without sacrificing time. Yifan has other plans, apparently. He bucks back without much coordination, making the bedsprings creak even more than they had been before. Well, if that's what he wants, then Yixing can certainly give it to him. He gets the feeling this won't be the last time they do this.
Ever an obliging partner, Yixing re-establishes his hold on Yifan and shuffles his knees to get the best leverage. Yifan seems to know what's coming and arches his back just enough to get the right angle. A grateful Yixing squeezes with his right hand to acknowledge the action.
Now, taking a deep breath and bracing his muscles, Yixing starts a metronome-rigid pace much faster than his slow and steady beginning. Yifan cries out underneath him, struggling to stay upright and eventually giving up, letting his elbows and knees slide across the sheets until he's pressed flat against the bed. Yixing increases his speed, concentrating so hard he thinks he might implode.
But Yifan, Yifan has to come before he gets to. That's how it works. Sacrificing a bit of his speed, Yixing concentrates on depth. He rolls his hips with each thrust, making sure Yifan's cock rubs against the sheets. He'd normally reach around but this position makes that impossible. So he works with this.
With knees digging into the bed, Yixing rests a bit of his body weight on Yifan. Just enough that he's close enough to mouth at his neck, whisper barely-comprehensible snippets of sentences, muffled so goods. He feels his own orgasm building and doubles his efforts, making sure he hits all the spots inside of Yifan that could undo him.
His work pays off when a whimpering Yifan goes stiff, one hand reaching back to find Yixing's and hold it tightly. "Shit," Yifan grits out as Yixing continues to grind his hips down. Overjoyed at his success and way too turned on, Yixing lets himself come as well. Still more than a little hazy, he kisses Yifan's neck with more spit than he probably would usually use. Yifan doesn't seem to care, still panting and still holding onto Yixing's hand.
He only lets go when he rolls over, front half a sweaty, red mess, and brushes his lips against Yixing's open mouth. Coming together, they go back and forth between light kisses and near-assaults that threaten to turn into another round.
"My roommate will probably be wondering where I am," Yixing finally sighs. Yifan nods in understanding and glances at the clothes on the floor. A look of uneasiness crosses his face and worries Yixing. He doesn't want this to be the last time either. Nor does he want this to be the only thing they do. So he goes for it.
"What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?" He hopes it isn't ambiguous, but just to safeguard he adds, "Looking for a date?" Yifan's eyes light up in the most adorable way and Yixing decides he wants to make that happen every day.
He gets dressed, shooting quips back and forth with a still-naked Yifan. Wishing he could stay, he takes one look back before he leaves the room. One thirty tomorrow afternoon, he'll see Yifan again.
Yixing finds Kyungsoo waiting for him when he finally goes back to his own room. He'd try to come up with some lame excuse, like he was studying or something, but the smile on Kyungsoo's face tells him that his roommate already knows everything.
Right. Thin walls.