Awkward Firsts - Taemin/Kai - Oneshot
Title: Awkward Firsts
Rating: NC-17
Band/Group(s): EXO, SHINee
Pairing(s): Taemin/Kai
Genre: PWP
Warnings: Explicit sexual content; Language
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of EXO or SHINee.
Summary: Taemin likes the sound of his own voice. Kai finds this all a little amusing.
A/N: So much porn. Seriously, there is nothing of substance here. I do kind of have this new thing for slutty Kai though.
Taemin gets him off for the first time with "Lucifer" playing in the background on repeat. Jongin doesn’t ask why Taemin would be listening to his own album, figures it makes sense in an odd Taemin-kind of way. He comments on it though, subtly, just a small chuckle and a, “trying to serenade me or something?” And Taemin smirks and slips his hands up the front of Jongin’s practice shirt. Taemin’s good with his hands and Jongin shuts up pretty quick after that.
They’re both still completely dressed, haven’t made it passed the over-the-clothes petting that reminds Jongin of the girl he used to make out with from his parents’ church. He got her off once, kind of on accident at first, laid her down across his couch and grinded his hips down against hers until she was gasping into his mouth and shaking in his arms. This is so different though, better maybe, because Taemin isn’t small and soft and fragile. Taemin is taller, looming, broader. He settles atop Jongin’s lap and stretches until their joined hands are so high above their heads Jongin’s back has to come up off the mattress to accommodate. He hums knowingly into Jongin’s ear when Jongin moans. He knows what he’s doing, and it’s different, but it’s also so damn good.
And it’s times like these that Jongin is reminded of that little bit of age difference between them. Not much, not enough to really even justify mentioning in most cases. But Jongin feels his lack of experience like a crashing wave and it’s hard not to let it wash him away.
Taemin whispers, “Shh, it’s okay, slow down.”
Jongin hadn’t even noticed he’d been going too fast, wasn’t sure there was such a thing. Wasn’t the point of all this to get to the end of it? Like some kind of weird partnered race?
Taemin doesn’t seem to think so, because he pulls back, rests their foreheads together and takes a deep breath. He rubs small circles with his thumbs into Jongin’s palms. Things do seem to slow, seem to come back into focus a little, and he sees the reason behind Taemin’s words. It’s better like this, more comfortable. His breathing is a little steadier, his thoughts a little clearer. He slips his wrists free from Taemin’s fingers and wraps one hand around the back of Taemin’s neck, pulling him in until their lips meet.
And, yeah, that’s much better. Taemin’s lips part on a gasp and Jongin can slip his tongue in, run it along the back of Taemin’s teeth. He likes this part, is good at it, is only reassured of that fact when Taemin grabs fistfuls of his hair and kisses him harder. It’s still slow, still long inhales through noses and drawn out moans. He has half a mind to wonder where the rest of Taemin’s band is, if he should keep an eye on the door in case someone decides to come in. But then Taemin shifts above him, lifts up enough to slide a knee between his thighs and he has to tear his mouth away to hiss.
Taemin tugs at his hair a little, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes and that damn smirk. “They did a good job with you.”
Jongin has no idea what that means, who ‘they’ are, but it doesn’t matter because there’s a pressure against his dick and it feels like fucking heaven. He fists his hands in the back of Taemin’s shirt, tugs until they have to break away so Taemin can slide his arms through the sleeves and toss it off the bed. He moves to sit up, to pull the hem of his own shirt up and off, but Taemin stops him when it’s sliding down his arms.
“What-” he huffs out a confused laugh, smile turning the corners of his lips up, but it disappears when Taemin wraps the fabric snug around his wrists, twists them around each other and then up over his head again.
“Shh,” Taemin says again, leans down to nip at his jaw. “No more talking. Just go with it.”
Jongin’s okay with that, he supposes, talking is overrated anyway. There are more awesome things to do with his mouth, like suck a bruise into the underside of Taemin’s jaw, right where he knows it’ll be impossible to cover up. He should be careful, should take into consideration that they’ve both got shit they’ve gotta do tomorrow-and it all involves cameras and over-critical eyes. Taemin moans though, the sound high and desperate and Jongin doesn’t think he could stop now if he wanted to. Taemin’s hands falter somewhere down his sides, nails pressing into his skin sharp and painful and he wants to reach down, wants to pull Taemin closer, but the shirt around his wrists reminds him that he probably isn’t allowed. He’ll let Taemin call the shots this time.
It takes more effort than it’s necessarily worth to lie still when Taemin slides down, pressing teasing, chaste kisses down his chest. He chokes back a sob when fingers creep under the waistband of his practice pants, turning his face into the side of his arm when teeth graze one of his hipbones. Taemin laughs at him, like he expected that kind of reaction. That’s fine though, let him laugh now. Jongin would get him back somehow.
He comes nearly completely off the bed when his pants are pulled down past his hips, leaving him only a half-second’s time of cool air against his skin before Taemin is swallowing him down. Taemin’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect, and fuck trying to keep his hands up above his head. He doesn’t even get his wrists completely free from his shirt before he’s tangling his fingers in Taemin’s hair. His throat feels raw, scratchy and sore when he moans, but he can’t stop himself. He can hear it when his voice cracks, feel it like a spasm in his chest. Taemin flattens a palm over his stomach to settle him, keeping him from moving like he wants to.
It doesn’t take much, a shallow flick of tongue against the head of his cock and a low hum in the back of Taemin’s throat, and Jongin is crying out, begging, “Please, fuck, hyung.” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, can’t think past the white hot pressure of Taemin’s mouth. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because Taemin is pulling off suddenly, replacing his mouth with a calloused hand and sliding back up Jongin’s body. Like he knew it was too much. He quiets Jongin’s words by muffling them with his own tongue.
Jongin loses himself then, in the taste and smell and feel of Taemin over him. He feels his blood pressure in his ears, the sound of it drowning out any external noise. His chest aches with a loss of oxygen, but he never wants to stop kissing Taemin, never wants to taste anything but himself on Taemin’s tongue. At some point he realizes his hands are still tangled in Taemin’s hair and he uses the grip to pull himself up, closer. And with every upward stroke of Taemin’s hand, Jongin feels himself getting closer to the edge.
“Come on,” Taemin whispers against his lips, twisting his hand sharp and almost painful, “I got you, come on.”
It’s like a switch, like he’d been waiting for those words, waiting for fucking permission. He has only a second to think how ridiculous that is before he screws his eyes shut and comes hard into Taemin’s hand. It feels like all his muscles are contracting at once, and he sobs into Taemin’s mouth.
“Fuck, you are so gorgeous,” he hears when he finally comes back down, his whole body shaking from the aftershocks. Jinki-hyung is still singing in the background and the room smells like sweat and sex.
He laughs because everything about this disgusting and juvenile and he can’t believe he just got off in his best friend’s bed, hell, in his best friend’s hand.
“What’s so funny?”
And later he’ll tease Taemin about leaving himself open and vulnerable because it is entirely too easy to hook his leg over Taemin’s knees and flip their positions. He pulls his arms completely free from his shirt and laces their fingers together. Leaning down until his lips are a pressed against Taemin’s ear, his voice comes out low and teasing.
“Dude, this song is so lame.”
Rating: NC-17
Band/Group(s): EXO, SHINee
Pairing(s): Taemin/Kai
Genre: PWP
Warnings: Explicit sexual content; Language
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of EXO or SHINee.
Summary: Taemin likes the sound of his own voice. Kai finds this all a little amusing.
A/N: So much porn. Seriously, there is nothing of substance here. I do kind of have this new thing for slutty Kai though.
Taemin gets him off for the first time with "Lucifer" playing in the background on repeat. Jongin doesn’t ask why Taemin would be listening to his own album, figures it makes sense in an odd Taemin-kind of way. He comments on it though, subtly, just a small chuckle and a, “trying to serenade me or something?” And Taemin smirks and slips his hands up the front of Jongin’s practice shirt. Taemin’s good with his hands and Jongin shuts up pretty quick after that.
They’re both still completely dressed, haven’t made it passed the over-the-clothes petting that reminds Jongin of the girl he used to make out with from his parents’ church. He got her off once, kind of on accident at first, laid her down across his couch and grinded his hips down against hers until she was gasping into his mouth and shaking in his arms. This is so different though, better maybe, because Taemin isn’t small and soft and fragile. Taemin is taller, looming, broader. He settles atop Jongin’s lap and stretches until their joined hands are so high above their heads Jongin’s back has to come up off the mattress to accommodate. He hums knowingly into Jongin’s ear when Jongin moans. He knows what he’s doing, and it’s different, but it’s also so damn good.
And it’s times like these that Jongin is reminded of that little bit of age difference between them. Not much, not enough to really even justify mentioning in most cases. But Jongin feels his lack of experience like a crashing wave and it’s hard not to let it wash him away.
Taemin whispers, “Shh, it’s okay, slow down.”
Jongin hadn’t even noticed he’d been going too fast, wasn’t sure there was such a thing. Wasn’t the point of all this to get to the end of it? Like some kind of weird partnered race?
Taemin doesn’t seem to think so, because he pulls back, rests their foreheads together and takes a deep breath. He rubs small circles with his thumbs into Jongin’s palms. Things do seem to slow, seem to come back into focus a little, and he sees the reason behind Taemin’s words. It’s better like this, more comfortable. His breathing is a little steadier, his thoughts a little clearer. He slips his wrists free from Taemin’s fingers and wraps one hand around the back of Taemin’s neck, pulling him in until their lips meet.
And, yeah, that’s much better. Taemin’s lips part on a gasp and Jongin can slip his tongue in, run it along the back of Taemin’s teeth. He likes this part, is good at it, is only reassured of that fact when Taemin grabs fistfuls of his hair and kisses him harder. It’s still slow, still long inhales through noses and drawn out moans. He has half a mind to wonder where the rest of Taemin’s band is, if he should keep an eye on the door in case someone decides to come in. But then Taemin shifts above him, lifts up enough to slide a knee between his thighs and he has to tear his mouth away to hiss.
Taemin tugs at his hair a little, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes and that damn smirk. “They did a good job with you.”
Jongin has no idea what that means, who ‘they’ are, but it doesn’t matter because there’s a pressure against his dick and it feels like fucking heaven. He fists his hands in the back of Taemin’s shirt, tugs until they have to break away so Taemin can slide his arms through the sleeves and toss it off the bed. He moves to sit up, to pull the hem of his own shirt up and off, but Taemin stops him when it’s sliding down his arms.
“What-” he huffs out a confused laugh, smile turning the corners of his lips up, but it disappears when Taemin wraps the fabric snug around his wrists, twists them around each other and then up over his head again.
“Shh,” Taemin says again, leans down to nip at his jaw. “No more talking. Just go with it.”
Jongin’s okay with that, he supposes, talking is overrated anyway. There are more awesome things to do with his mouth, like suck a bruise into the underside of Taemin’s jaw, right where he knows it’ll be impossible to cover up. He should be careful, should take into consideration that they’ve both got shit they’ve gotta do tomorrow-and it all involves cameras and over-critical eyes. Taemin moans though, the sound high and desperate and Jongin doesn’t think he could stop now if he wanted to. Taemin’s hands falter somewhere down his sides, nails pressing into his skin sharp and painful and he wants to reach down, wants to pull Taemin closer, but the shirt around his wrists reminds him that he probably isn’t allowed. He’ll let Taemin call the shots this time.
It takes more effort than it’s necessarily worth to lie still when Taemin slides down, pressing teasing, chaste kisses down his chest. He chokes back a sob when fingers creep under the waistband of his practice pants, turning his face into the side of his arm when teeth graze one of his hipbones. Taemin laughs at him, like he expected that kind of reaction. That’s fine though, let him laugh now. Jongin would get him back somehow.
He comes nearly completely off the bed when his pants are pulled down past his hips, leaving him only a half-second’s time of cool air against his skin before Taemin is swallowing him down. Taemin’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect, and fuck trying to keep his hands up above his head. He doesn’t even get his wrists completely free from his shirt before he’s tangling his fingers in Taemin’s hair. His throat feels raw, scratchy and sore when he moans, but he can’t stop himself. He can hear it when his voice cracks, feel it like a spasm in his chest. Taemin flattens a palm over his stomach to settle him, keeping him from moving like he wants to.
It doesn’t take much, a shallow flick of tongue against the head of his cock and a low hum in the back of Taemin’s throat, and Jongin is crying out, begging, “Please, fuck, hyung.” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, can’t think past the white hot pressure of Taemin’s mouth. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because Taemin is pulling off suddenly, replacing his mouth with a calloused hand and sliding back up Jongin’s body. Like he knew it was too much. He quiets Jongin’s words by muffling them with his own tongue.
Jongin loses himself then, in the taste and smell and feel of Taemin over him. He feels his blood pressure in his ears, the sound of it drowning out any external noise. His chest aches with a loss of oxygen, but he never wants to stop kissing Taemin, never wants to taste anything but himself on Taemin’s tongue. At some point he realizes his hands are still tangled in Taemin’s hair and he uses the grip to pull himself up, closer. And with every upward stroke of Taemin’s hand, Jongin feels himself getting closer to the edge.
“Come on,” Taemin whispers against his lips, twisting his hand sharp and almost painful, “I got you, come on.”
It’s like a switch, like he’d been waiting for those words, waiting for fucking permission. He has only a second to think how ridiculous that is before he screws his eyes shut and comes hard into Taemin’s hand. It feels like all his muscles are contracting at once, and he sobs into Taemin’s mouth.
“Fuck, you are so gorgeous,” he hears when he finally comes back down, his whole body shaking from the aftershocks. Jinki-hyung is still singing in the background and the room smells like sweat and sex.
He laughs because everything about this disgusting and juvenile and he can’t believe he just got off in his best friend’s bed, hell, in his best friend’s hand.
“What’s so funny?”
And later he’ll tease Taemin about leaving himself open and vulnerable because it is entirely too easy to hook his leg over Taemin’s knees and flip their positions. He pulls his arms completely free from his shirt and laces their fingers together. Leaning down until his lips are a pressed against Taemin’s ear, his voice comes out low and teasing.
“Dude, this song is so lame.”