play me
Fandom: exo
Pairing: xiuhun
word count: 1560
rating: nc-17
summary: Minseok plays Sehun like a cello. \o/
Sehun knows this one's special as soon as Minseok cues himself in with a measured breath. He’s immediately taken out of self, out of Minseok's bedroom, enveloped by sound so full he feels he's drowning in heavy space.
He doesn’t need to see to know perfectly how Minseok’s brows furrow in concentration, how he sucks in his bottom lip or bites the inside of his cheek subconsciously when he dives for long shifts. How his whole upper body is engaged, back muscles shifting visibly under his tank top as he pulls gorgeous earthy chords from his cello. His shoulders, though broad and open, are bent on dragging out the purest tone possible.
Tone so deep and warm and resonant Sehun can feel it closing up his throat and filling his belly.
He isn’t aware of how much time passes before Minseok is carefully resting the amber cello on its side and turning towards him, eyes bright with giddy exhaustion.
“What do you think?” Minseok breathes, crawling to the middle of the bed. His bare neck and shoulders glisten from the effort of the past half hour.
He takes in Sehun’s bleary expression and his lips curl into a knowing smile. He's known from the very first Philharmonic rehearsal the intriguing problem he presents for his stand partner's self control. It took strength not to laugh when Sehun absentmindedly sucked the C peg of his cello into his mouth with his eyes stuck somewhere around Minseok's upper arms, and even more when he spit it out and spluttered a few seconds later, grumbling about cello varnish and how hard it was to turn stuck tuning pegs.
He couldn't even tease Sehun over the froyo date he treated him to afterwards because he felt bad for being somewhat purposefully distracting all rehearsal long. It was just nice that someone so young had made second chair. His usual stand partners had at least half a head of grays, weren't so enthused about such a young graduate school student being made principal cello, and didn't quietly ask for clarification about Minseok's fingering for a particular passage quite as cutely as Sehun did.
"It's perfect," Sehun smiles back, still floating in the tendrils of warm haze. He can reel himself in when they share the stand for rehearsals, but while they're alone surrounded by the sound, Sehun has no choice but to be pulled into the world created by Minseok's music. "It suits the Elgar really well, babe. Are you happy with it?”
“Ugh, yes,” Minseok says, rolling his neck down and around. Sehun scoots between his legs and reaches up to massage his shoulders, a habit that makes their colleagues coo at the Phil’s youngest players during breaks. “You can try it out if you want. I can’t wait to get the Shostakovich going on it once the strings are all settled. I think this might be the one.”
“The seventeen thousand dollar one,” Sehun teases. Minseok pouts a bit, and Sehun immediately turns solemn. “It’s worth it. It’s a quality cello that you deserve and the sound matches you perfectly.” He pokes Minseok’s chest for emphasis. “Though of course, you played the others just as amazingly.”
Minseok laughs softly, appeased, and sneaks his fingers up under Sehun’s shirt to press into the muscles running along his spine. “So did you.” His lips curve into a gummy smile before he prods none too gently at a knot around Sehun’s lower hip. Sehun chokes on the spike of pain, face falling forward onto Minseok’s shoulder, and Minseok’s grip slackens immediately, instead kneading the spot with a gentle rocking motion reminiscent of the vibrato he uses for sweet, slow passages. It’s for some reason Sehun’s favorite, he once shyly admitted with his cheek mashed into the body of his cello out of embarrassment. He giggles into Minseok’s collarbone once he recognizes the motion.
Minseok playfully continues pressing the passage of Sospiri that had merited Sehun’s confession back then, until Sehun quiets. Minseok feels the muscles beneath his fingertips suddenly contract in a full-body shudder. The puff of breath Sehun releases as he stills in Minseok’s arms is strangely chilling.
“Woah.” He pulls back, half alarmed, half oddly excited. “You okay?”
Sehun looks up at him, gaze sober and piercing. “Keep going.”
He regards Sehun thoughtfully for a moment with searching eyes, trying to reconcile this new piece of Sehun with the rest of him. Goosebumps run down his arms. Then he slowly reaches over the edge of the bed to retrieve his bow.
His other hand slides up Sehun’s chest to drag up his shirt. Wordlessly, Sehun removes it.
“Pull your jeans down a bit,” Minseok murmurs. Sehun unbuttons them while Minseok guides him to sit between his own legs, back to chest.
Thighs pressed to Sehun’s hips, Minseok plants his feet on the bed. He straightens his chest and curls around Sehun’s back, surrounds him. Notches the wood of his bow above Sehun’s hipbones, sliding his hand firmly down and up his torso to trace four lines of muscle.
Sehun exhales shakily.
Minseok's chest expands with a familiar charged breath, then he begins to play.
His fingers dance across Sehun’s chest, against his sternum, shifting down his flat stomach. They drop firmly, never missing a beat, pressing into the sinews of Sehun’s muscle with elastic surety. Sehun thrums with their energy.
The music builds insistently, and instead of biting his own lip, Minseok sucks on Sehun’s ear, bites down at the base of his neck. He feels an almost victorious high shoot through him at each of Sehun’s whimpers. His touch, the memory of his music, is the cause of this.
Sehun’s chest heaves at the sensation of Minseok’s tugging, the vibrations of Minseok’s strength pulls his torso taut. His fingers dig into Minseok’s thighs.
Sehun registers that he's hard and aching but can't tell whether he wants Minseok to touch him or keep feeding the shivers zinging through his body. His hand makes an abortive twitch out of disoriented indecision and he lets out a frustrated whine.
Minseok presses a steadying kiss to his temple then drops his bow to pluck at Sehun’s hipbones and graze his fingers over his nipples, coaxing melodic moans from Sehun’s lips. He dips his bow hand below Sehun’s waistband and wraps sure fingers around his cock. Sehun’s back arches up into Minseok’s hand with a gasp.
The energy of Minseok's touches surge up and down Sehun's spine in time with the pace of his fingers tugging at Sehun's cock, and he can't help but thrust into the tight ring of Minseok's fingers.
Minseok thumbs across the slit to smooth the precome down and start a hard pace he knows Sehun can’t take for long. Sehun’s hands run up and down Minseok’s thighs restlessly, his toes curling into the sheets.
His shallow panting brings out the veins against his neck, and Minseok leans in to press open-mouthed kisses down the line. When he reaches his favorite mole, he sucks hard, and Sehun arches up with a cry, coming into Minseok's hand.
Minseok finishes his mark with a soft swipe of his tongue then gently brings Sehun’s head back to rest on his own shoulder, hand lingering gently on his forehead. Sehun sinks into the comforting warmth of Minseok’s chest with a huff.
“So what do you think?” Sehun can hear the teasing smile in Minseok’s voice. He surges up to kiss him long and hard, and Minseok grips his jaw with one hand to kiss back just as insistently. When the kiss slows to sweet presses of tongue, Minseok pulls back to murmur, “I like this one a lot, too."
Sehun tilts his head a bit confusedly, and Minseok uses the angle to kiss down his jaw. “Very responsive, it is, the sound comes right out.” He suckles at a spot below Sehun's ear, earning a high moan. "A sweet upper register, although a bit whiny." Sehun swats his shoulder at the offense and makes to pull out of his arms reproachfully, but can't seem to find the bones to do it, so instead he collapses face first into Minseok's chest, grumbling.
Minseok laughs, ruffling his hair. "Even the deeper register is still warm," Minseok slides his palms around Sehun's firm waist, connecting them at the small of his back. "And the body was crafted pretty impressively, nice finish on the ribs and back and," he inches his fingers over the curve of Sehun's ass, "lower bouts."
"That's right," Sehun says sleepily into Minseok's chest. "I am the best. Perfect."
"Perfect for me," Minseok murmurs, pressing a kiss to Sehun's hair. He looks over the edge of the bed where the cello rests, and resolves to put it away as soon as it's safe to slip out from under Sehun.
"I'm cold," Sehun whines, burrowing into Minseok's sternum. "You'll affect my temperament if you leave me untucked overnight."
"So high-maintenance," Minseok says fondly while reaching for the comforter.
Sehun makes a noise of smug content. "That's the price of perfection."
Minseok spreads the cover over their bodies, scooching away from the headboard so he can lay down fully with Sehun still balanced on top. He sneaks one last glance at the cello, which seems to be radiating an accusation at his negligence. It can wait while Sehun naps.
Pairing: xiuhun
word count: 1560
rating: nc-17
summary: Minseok plays Sehun like a cello. \o/
Sehun knows this one's special as soon as Minseok cues himself in with a measured breath. He’s immediately taken out of self, out of Minseok's bedroom, enveloped by sound so full he feels he's drowning in heavy space.
He doesn’t need to see to know perfectly how Minseok’s brows furrow in concentration, how he sucks in his bottom lip or bites the inside of his cheek subconsciously when he dives for long shifts. How his whole upper body is engaged, back muscles shifting visibly under his tank top as he pulls gorgeous earthy chords from his cello. His shoulders, though broad and open, are bent on dragging out the purest tone possible.
Tone so deep and warm and resonant Sehun can feel it closing up his throat and filling his belly.
He isn’t aware of how much time passes before Minseok is carefully resting the amber cello on its side and turning towards him, eyes bright with giddy exhaustion.
“What do you think?” Minseok breathes, crawling to the middle of the bed. His bare neck and shoulders glisten from the effort of the past half hour.
He takes in Sehun’s bleary expression and his lips curl into a knowing smile. He's known from the very first Philharmonic rehearsal the intriguing problem he presents for his stand partner's self control. It took strength not to laugh when Sehun absentmindedly sucked the C peg of his cello into his mouth with his eyes stuck somewhere around Minseok's upper arms, and even more when he spit it out and spluttered a few seconds later, grumbling about cello varnish and how hard it was to turn stuck tuning pegs.
He couldn't even tease Sehun over the froyo date he treated him to afterwards because he felt bad for being somewhat purposefully distracting all rehearsal long. It was just nice that someone so young had made second chair. His usual stand partners had at least half a head of grays, weren't so enthused about such a young graduate school student being made principal cello, and didn't quietly ask for clarification about Minseok's fingering for a particular passage quite as cutely as Sehun did.
"It's perfect," Sehun smiles back, still floating in the tendrils of warm haze. He can reel himself in when they share the stand for rehearsals, but while they're alone surrounded by the sound, Sehun has no choice but to be pulled into the world created by Minseok's music. "It suits the Elgar really well, babe. Are you happy with it?”
“Ugh, yes,” Minseok says, rolling his neck down and around. Sehun scoots between his legs and reaches up to massage his shoulders, a habit that makes their colleagues coo at the Phil’s youngest players during breaks. “You can try it out if you want. I can’t wait to get the Shostakovich going on it once the strings are all settled. I think this might be the one.”
“The seventeen thousand dollar one,” Sehun teases. Minseok pouts a bit, and Sehun immediately turns solemn. “It’s worth it. It’s a quality cello that you deserve and the sound matches you perfectly.” He pokes Minseok’s chest for emphasis. “Though of course, you played the others just as amazingly.”
Minseok laughs softly, appeased, and sneaks his fingers up under Sehun’s shirt to press into the muscles running along his spine. “So did you.” His lips curve into a gummy smile before he prods none too gently at a knot around Sehun’s lower hip. Sehun chokes on the spike of pain, face falling forward onto Minseok’s shoulder, and Minseok’s grip slackens immediately, instead kneading the spot with a gentle rocking motion reminiscent of the vibrato he uses for sweet, slow passages. It’s for some reason Sehun’s favorite, he once shyly admitted with his cheek mashed into the body of his cello out of embarrassment. He giggles into Minseok’s collarbone once he recognizes the motion.
Minseok playfully continues pressing the passage of Sospiri that had merited Sehun’s confession back then, until Sehun quiets. Minseok feels the muscles beneath his fingertips suddenly contract in a full-body shudder. The puff of breath Sehun releases as he stills in Minseok’s arms is strangely chilling.
“Woah.” He pulls back, half alarmed, half oddly excited. “You okay?”
Sehun looks up at him, gaze sober and piercing. “Keep going.”
He regards Sehun thoughtfully for a moment with searching eyes, trying to reconcile this new piece of Sehun with the rest of him. Goosebumps run down his arms. Then he slowly reaches over the edge of the bed to retrieve his bow.
His other hand slides up Sehun’s chest to drag up his shirt. Wordlessly, Sehun removes it.
“Pull your jeans down a bit,” Minseok murmurs. Sehun unbuttons them while Minseok guides him to sit between his own legs, back to chest.
Thighs pressed to Sehun’s hips, Minseok plants his feet on the bed. He straightens his chest and curls around Sehun’s back, surrounds him. Notches the wood of his bow above Sehun’s hipbones, sliding his hand firmly down and up his torso to trace four lines of muscle.
Sehun exhales shakily.
Minseok's chest expands with a familiar charged breath, then he begins to play.
His fingers dance across Sehun’s chest, against his sternum, shifting down his flat stomach. They drop firmly, never missing a beat, pressing into the sinews of Sehun’s muscle with elastic surety. Sehun thrums with their energy.
The music builds insistently, and instead of biting his own lip, Minseok sucks on Sehun’s ear, bites down at the base of his neck. He feels an almost victorious high shoot through him at each of Sehun’s whimpers. His touch, the memory of his music, is the cause of this.
Sehun’s chest heaves at the sensation of Minseok’s tugging, the vibrations of Minseok’s strength pulls his torso taut. His fingers dig into Minseok’s thighs.
Sehun registers that he's hard and aching but can't tell whether he wants Minseok to touch him or keep feeding the shivers zinging through his body. His hand makes an abortive twitch out of disoriented indecision and he lets out a frustrated whine.
Minseok presses a steadying kiss to his temple then drops his bow to pluck at Sehun’s hipbones and graze his fingers over his nipples, coaxing melodic moans from Sehun’s lips. He dips his bow hand below Sehun’s waistband and wraps sure fingers around his cock. Sehun’s back arches up into Minseok’s hand with a gasp.
The energy of Minseok's touches surge up and down Sehun's spine in time with the pace of his fingers tugging at Sehun's cock, and he can't help but thrust into the tight ring of Minseok's fingers.
Minseok thumbs across the slit to smooth the precome down and start a hard pace he knows Sehun can’t take for long. Sehun’s hands run up and down Minseok’s thighs restlessly, his toes curling into the sheets.
His shallow panting brings out the veins against his neck, and Minseok leans in to press open-mouthed kisses down the line. When he reaches his favorite mole, he sucks hard, and Sehun arches up with a cry, coming into Minseok's hand.
Minseok finishes his mark with a soft swipe of his tongue then gently brings Sehun’s head back to rest on his own shoulder, hand lingering gently on his forehead. Sehun sinks into the comforting warmth of Minseok’s chest with a huff.
“So what do you think?” Sehun can hear the teasing smile in Minseok’s voice. He surges up to kiss him long and hard, and Minseok grips his jaw with one hand to kiss back just as insistently. When the kiss slows to sweet presses of tongue, Minseok pulls back to murmur, “I like this one a lot, too."
Sehun tilts his head a bit confusedly, and Minseok uses the angle to kiss down his jaw. “Very responsive, it is, the sound comes right out.” He suckles at a spot below Sehun's ear, earning a high moan. "A sweet upper register, although a bit whiny." Sehun swats his shoulder at the offense and makes to pull out of his arms reproachfully, but can't seem to find the bones to do it, so instead he collapses face first into Minseok's chest, grumbling.
Minseok laughs, ruffling his hair. "Even the deeper register is still warm," Minseok slides his palms around Sehun's firm waist, connecting them at the small of his back. "And the body was crafted pretty impressively, nice finish on the ribs and back and," he inches his fingers over the curve of Sehun's ass, "lower bouts."
"That's right," Sehun says sleepily into Minseok's chest. "I am the best. Perfect."
"Perfect for me," Minseok murmurs, pressing a kiss to Sehun's hair. He looks over the edge of the bed where the cello rests, and resolves to put it away as soon as it's safe to slip out from under Sehun.
"I'm cold," Sehun whines, burrowing into Minseok's sternum. "You'll affect my temperament if you leave me untucked overnight."
"So high-maintenance," Minseok says fondly while reaching for the comforter.
Sehun makes a noise of smug content. "That's the price of perfection."
Minseok spreads the cover over their bodies, scooching away from the headboard so he can lay down fully with Sehun still balanced on top. He sneaks one last glance at the cello, which seems to be radiating an accusation at his negligence. It can wait while Sehun naps.