coming home
coming home
nc-17; romance, fluff; wu fan/zitao; 4,716w
summary: wu fan considers a lot of places as his home. but it is only in a place where zitao is does wu fan really feel being in one. [post-exo disbandment!au]
a/n: because this nsfw fanart gave me too much feels and i don’t understand why no one has written fic for that glorious art yet ;_________________;
huge thank you to aya unnir for reading most of this over for me. ilu <33
for abbie, elaine, clara, maia, agot, jam, jema, joie and all the other taoris shippers in my tlist.
hi and pls accept my humble offer of love. ♥
It’s past five o’clock in the afternoon when Wu Fan’s plane touches down in Beijing and Wu Fan finds himself heaving a huge sigh of relief when the flight attendant finally comes through the intercom and announces their arrival. Wu Fan feels every part of his body ache from having to sit through one of the longest flights he’s ever had in his life. His neck is stiff and his legs are numb, having been uncomfortably twisted so that he could fit his large frame in the small space, shins cramped against the underside of the seat in front and knees jammed against the seat back. This isn’t anything new - god knows he’s traveled far longer than eleven hours for one of their last concerts back when they were still in EXO - but there’s still something infinitely exhausting about it despite going through the same motions and getting on the same damned flights for so many times.
It’s not like Wu Fan really has a choice. Just shy of two years after EXO disbanded, SM was quick on their feet to appoint Wu Fan as the head of the PR department of their newly opened branch in Toronto, and Wu Fan, recognizing how big of an opportunity it was to work again for the same company who had helped him realize his dreams, readily accepted their offer. SM was spared from having to look elsewhere for the right person for the job and Wu Fan was granted with every single chance to see his family in Vancouver - it was practically a win-win situation for everyone.
Being back in Vancouver for a couple of days had been good and all - truth be told, letting his mother spoil the hell out of him every once in a while was something Wu Fan secretly looked forward to - but Wu Fan misses home and there’s nowhere else in the world he wants to be in at this very moment but in his modest apartment in Qingdao.
But, more than the usual comfort and warmth within the confines of his apartment, Wu Fan misses the person he left behind, the same person who gave him a thousand and more reasons to settle down in Qingdao in the first place.
When Zitao refused Wu Fan’s offer to come with him to Canada the first time around, it had been a big surprise to the both of them. Back in their idol fame days, it was common knowledge that Zitao had all but made it his life mission to be a constant presence by Wu Fan’s side. Wu Fan hadn’t seen anything wrong with that and so alongside the fact that he was the maknae, Wu Fan naturally indulged him as much as he could. No one even batted an eyelash at the way Zitao attached himself to Wu Fan no matter where they went, at the way he basically jumped at every opportunity to share a room with him.
Zitao’s refusal - the first of many - had been a staggering but, at the same time, pleasant surprise because while a young Zitao would have clung to Wu Fan and insisted on tagging along wherever duizhang went, the older Zitao is anything but adamant and clingy.
The sudden change had Wu Fan feeling torn at first. A part of him had wanted Zitao to say yes, to assure Wu Fan that he would be by his side while Wu Fan stayed in Canada for work. However, despite his disappointment, there was still a part of him that felt incredibly proud to see Zitao standing before him, firm and independent even on his own, to hear him say, “you’ll be back, and you know I’ll be waiting right here when you return” with so much confidence laced in his words.
Apparently, Zitao knew him more than Wu Fan knew himself because, after only a month and a half of staying in Canada - a month and a half worth of phone calls, and emails and missing and craving each other - Wu Fan yielded and promptly decided that the exhaustion from having to go back and forth from Canada to Qingdao was nothing compared to the feeling of home and belongingness with Zitao.
Up to this day, even after his fifth consecutive roundtrip travel to Toronto this month for yet another emergency meeting of their department, Wu Fan still believes he’d made the right decision.
Wu Fan stretches as much as he can in his place to let the blood circulate back into his extremities again before reaching up to grab his things in the luggage compartment. He’s only brought two bags for his entire trip, just enough to last him during his two-week stay in Canada; he has no plans of being away from Zitao for longer than that, anyway. Steering his way down the aisle and through the plane doors, Wu fan directs a nod to the flight attendant as she bows and wishes him a great day ahead.
There’s something akin to anticipation that quickly washes over him the moment Wu Fan takes his first step out of the plane. There is absolutely no reason for him to feel this giddy and nervous at the same time, but then Zitao’s face pops up in his head for a second, wearing one of his many panda pajamas as he stands by the doorway and greets Wu Fan home with a smile and a warm hug (and, if he’s lucky, maybe “welcome home sex” as well), and it’s taking every bit of Wu Fan’s willpower to stop the stupid smile that keeps on tugging at the corners of his lips.
It’s ridiculous, Wu Fan knows; he still needs to travel for five more hours on a bullet train to get to Qingdao but just five more hours away from Zitao is nothing compared to the eleven-hour flight he had to sit through just to get to Beijing.
Unable to help himself anymore, Wu Fan sends Zitao a quick message, eventually letting a small smile slip on his usually stoic face, before pocketing his phone and continuing on his way again.
I’m home.
It is the peaceful sight of Zitao sleeping on the couch that welcomes Wu Fan home as soon as he steps through the doorway and into their living room.
The lights are out, the whole room nearly engulfed in darkness, and if it wasn’t for the little illumination brought about by their tv - which, Wu Fan momentarily notices, is currently playing one of Zitao’s favorite dramas - he probably wouldn’t have noticed the Zitao-shaped lump lounging on the couch. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s past ten o’clock already and Wu Fan lets out a frustrated sigh because, obviously, he’d just spent the whole day traveling and why in heaven’s name didn’t he take an earlier flight back to Beijing?
Wu Fan was honestly looking forward to Zitao’s kisses welcoming him back because it’s been two long, god-awful weeks since he’d last felt those lips on his. But, well, seeing Zitao curled up on the couch, face innocent and serene as he sleeps, Wu Fan supposes it isn’t entirely bad coming home to this.
Wu Fan can’t help but take a moment to appreciate the view.
Zitao is lying half-curled like always, one arm tucked under his cheek to pillow his face while the other just hangs limply by his side. Zitao’s position doesn’t look anywhere near comfortable: his body is slouched and his knees are slightly bent, barely making it onto the couch as though trying to fit himself with his feet hanging over the edge.
Wu Fan sighs. Maybe it’s time to consider buying a larger couch if this ends up happening more frequently.
Quietly, Wu Fan toes his shoes off and pads closer, each step light and unhurried to avoid accidentally waking Zitao up. It’s only when Wu Fan is close enough to crouch down and observe does he realize that Zitao is actually wearing his clothes: an old, black tank-top that’s always stashed in the very back of their bottom drawer. Something in him stirs and Wu Fan, for what seems to be the nth time in his life, is convinced yet again that he’s probably saved an entire galaxy in some other lifetime to be this lucky.
Chanyeol had been the first one to know about Wu Fan’s plan of living together with Zitao after EXO had disbanded, after the members had gone their separate ways, doing their own thing. He had jokingly called Wu Fan a lucky bastard then and Wu Fan remembers sputtering indignantly at that remark because, if anything, Wu Fan strongly believed it was Zitao who’s actually lucky to have him.
But now, Wu Fan realizes with a slight shake of his head and soft laughter bubbling from his lips, maybe lucky bastard did suit him well.
Unconsciously, Wu Fan reaches out and brushes Zitao’s bangs away from his face, gentle fingers carding through his hair in the process. When Wu Fan suddenly becomes aware of what he’s doing, though, it’s a second too late to snatch his hand back because Zitao is already stirring, his face leaning in to the warmth of Wu Fan’s palm even more. Eyelids start to slowly flutter open and Wu Fan is greeted with a lazy smile and a soft “hey” thrown in his direction as soon as Zitao recognizes the person crouched in front of him.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Wu Fan murmurs affectionately before leaning down to peck Zitao square on the mouth. It’s only a quick touch, just a fleeting sensation of lips against lips, but it’s enough to send that familiar jolt of electricity down Wu Fan’s spine.
“…fell asleep while waiting for you to come home,” Zitao replies. Wu Fan smiles indulgently at Zitao’s rough, sleep-laden voice; he really doesn’t mind hearing it for the rest of his life. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven,” Wu fan easily answers. “You shouldn’t have waited for me here.”
“I was planning to welcome you home! But I got tired of waiting after two hours and decided to lie down on the couch. I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep,” Zitao half complains, half whines. Wu Fan curbs the urge to laugh. Zitao is just too cute like this when he isn’t too busy trying to sound mature all the time.
Wu Fan leans in even closer, his nose almost touching Zitao’s now, and whispers, “You can try and make it up to me now that you’re awake?”
It’s not supposed to sound like he’s hinting at something that goes beyond the PG-13 rating so when those words just came out the way they did, Wu Fan momentarily waits in bated breath to gauge Zitao’s reaction. When Zitao just blinks at him, though, before eventually scooting backwards, leaving a little unoccupied space beside him, Wu Fan can’t help but feel a little disappointed at the response he got.
Zitao unblinkingly stares at him, as though trying to convey a very obvious answer that needs no words to be understood. Apparently, Wu Fan’s a little bit on the slow side today so when he fails to figure out what Zitao really means, Zitao just sighs and pats the empty spot on the couch. “C’mere then.”
Wu Fan just raises an inquisitive brow.
He’s not sure if it’s Zitao’s sleep-muddled brain that drives him to come up with such an insane idea but Wu Fan is entirely convinced that this isn’t going to work. Zitao couldn’t even fit on the couch by himself, let alone two people - and someone who can rival Zitao’s height and build at that. He’s about to tell Zitao that their bed is far bigger and comfier for their...nightly activities when Zitao calls his attention and impatiently pats the space beside him again.
The couch isn’t really meant for two - this realization isn’t surprising. But how they still manage to fit on the couch together, albeit resorting to settling into a very awkward and uncomfortable position, certainly is. Wu Fan thinks even the slightest movement can send both of them toppling on the floor and it’s entirely possible because one of his asscheeks is just hanging over the edge and there is practically nothing but air cushioning the other dangling half of his body. The only thing holding Wu Fan in his position is Zitao’s arm securely curled around his waist and his other leg haphazardly thrown over Wu Fan’s lower section.
This isn’t exactly the best place to sleep on and their arrangement offers anything but comfort and relaxation for Wu Fan’s exhausted self. But, well, he can’t seem to find it in himself to complain, not when Zitao is warm and cozy beside him. Hot puffs of breath ghost across Wu Fan’s neck and he finds himself shivering from the occasional contact of Zitao’s lips against his skin.
Wu Fan’s body likes to betray him most of the time. It moves on pure instinct when it comes to Zitao, responding in a way that frequently makes Wu Fan feel like he’s the biggest embarrassment on the face of the earth. He’d always depended on his ability to speak well - it was one of the many traits that leaders were expected to possess, after all - but with Zitao, it was a pointless attempt to even try because words would always, always, abandon him when Zitao was around, leaving his body to do all the talking.
Which is really anything but favorable for his dignity.
Wu Fan’s thoughts come to a sudden halt when he feels Zitao’s lips now pressing insistently on the side of his neck, leaving feather-light kisses as they continue their journey towards the underside of his jaw and ear. There’s also Zitao’s hand slowly dragging down his chest with frustrating slowness, only stopping for a second to pop open one of the buttons of his dress shirt before slipping a hand inside. Wu fan feels like he’s going to combust any second just from Zitao’s touches and it’s really the worst time to be turned on right now because he knows he can’t stop once they’ve started and there is absolutely no way they’ll be having sex on this couch.
Just as Wu Fan is about to let the words forming in his head slip right through his mouth, the lips on his neck and the hand on his chest both stop simultaneously, leaving Wu Fan confused and desperately aching for more. It’s a pretty good time to speak now, Wu Fan thinks internally, so he tries but-
“Let me draw you a quick bath first so you can clean yourself up and we can go to bed.”
Wu fan stares at Zitao. He refuses to believe that this is actually happening, that Zitao just basically interrupted their alone time just so Wu Fan can clean himself up first. Apparently, Zitao is hell bent on shoving the harsh reality into his face because, without another word, he abruptly gets up from the couch, crushing Wu Fan underneath him in the process, and heads straight towards the bathroom.
Wu Fan loudly groans. “I won’t stay clean for very long, though, and you know that! Why do I have to do this now?”
“Because you stink,” Zitao not-so-nicely responds, his voice echoing from inside the bathroom, “so get your ass out here and stop complaining.”
Wu Fan definitely doesn’t stink but he has half a mind to answer Zitao back, especially if their precious alone time is on the line. Instead, he forcibly drags himself up from the couch and saunters towards the bathroom, body feeling increasingly heavy with each step.
Zitao is currently fiddling with the shower knob when Wu Fan finally reaches the door. There is positively nothing interesting about the way Zitao’s fingers are curled around the knob, continuously turning it this way and that, with the way his brows furrow in utter concentration as he tries to get the right water temperature for Wu Fan’s bath. But, despite knowing these things, Wu Fan still catches himself intently staring at Zitao, his attention undivided and entirely focused on him.
There’s something incredibly domestic about this, about them - with the way Zitao goes out of his way just to make sure that the water won’t be too hot or too cold for Wu Fan, with the way they always spend their weekend trying to cook for the nth time because of Zitao’s insistence and enthusiastic cheers of “it’ll be fun, trust me!” (Wu fan never really figured out the fun part in eating burnt food and tidying up the whole kitchen, by the way), with the way Wu Fan ends up curled against Zitao on the couch as they laugh heartily over random late night shows, not because Wu fan genuinely finds them funny, but because Zitao’s laugh is just infectious like that.
It’s with these thoughts still running inside Wu Fan’s head that he finds himself entering the bathroom, cautiously walking towards Zitao who still remains as oblivious as ever as he experimentally manipulates the shower knobs. A few more steps and Wu Fan’s close enough to touch Zitao even with the pads of his fingertips, to feel the warmth radiating from Zitao’s skin.
Suddenly, Zitao turns around, eyes going wide after seeing Wu Fan standing so close to him. He’d been too busy toying with the water temperature to even hear Wu Fan step in.
“Oh. Wu Fan, the-”
Wu Fan’s lips quickly seal Zitao’s own, preventing any words from further slipping out of his mouth. It’s a little alarming to feel the urgency and need and desperation pouring out from Wu Fan’s kisses and as much as Zitao wants to pull away, he can’t because there are hands placed on either side of his face, holding him steady and still. It doesn’t help that Wu Fan has him trapped inside the shower as well, effectively blocking the only exit with his body.
By the time Zitao feels Wu Fan’s tongue skimming over his teeth, timidly asking for entrance, Zitao throws the remaining self-restraint he has out the window because it feels so fucking good to have Wu Fan this close again that Zitao can’t help but give in and just melt into his hold.
As though moving on their own accord, Zitao’s fingers deftly work on the remaining buttons of Wu fan’s dress shirt, popping them open one by one until all that’s stopping him from feeling the smooth planes of Wu Fan’s abdomen is his undershirt. The pattering of the warm shower water isn’t enough to drown the guttural moan that Zitao manages to draw from Wu Fan’s throat when he suddenly flicks Wu Fan’s right nipple, just a fleeting brush of his thumb that sends another of jolt of pleasure dripping down his spine.
Wu fan’s sure that there should be some kind of mental preparation for this because after going through two long, sex-free weeks, Wu Fan isn’t sure if he’s going to last long, not with Zitao taking his sweet time in teasing the hell out of him.
With his mind being clouded with lust and body getting racked by quickly building pleasure, it takes a moment for Wu Fan to realize that Zitao has already discarded him of his drenched clothes, mouth now latched on his chest to leave blossoming red marks on pale skin. One of Zitao’s wandering hands teases along Wu Fan’s belt buckle, fingers dragging along the metal, to the leather of Wu Fan’s belt and then down, down, down to his zipper.
Zitao doesn’t touch him, though. Instead, he continues to tease Wu Fan with light presses of his fingertips along the outline of Wu Fan’s cock, almost touching but not quite.
It’s damn frustrating for Wu Fan because there isn’t anything he wants right now but for Zitao to just fucking touch him and he doesn’t have the patience of a saint to let Zitao play this little teasing game and not do anything about it. So Wu Fan growls, unable to hide his frustration any longer, before grabbing Zitao’s hand and placing it over the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Zitao tears his mouth away from Wu Fan’s left nipple (which he has been lavishing with so much attention for quite some time now) and looks up with a smirk on his face. “You’re so impatient.”
Wu Fan doesn’t even deny that with a verbal response. Instead, he eagerly rocks into Zitao’s palm to show him how impatient he really is.
The feeling of Zitao rubbing him through his pants is nowhere near the immense pleasure he gets when Zitao finally undoes Wu Fan’s jeans and quickly wraps his hand around his cock. He brings Zitao’s face up for another heated kiss, an attempt to choke back the loud moan that threatens to rumble from his throat, just as Zitao thumbs his slit, spreading the precome already gathering around the tip down his length.
“Good?” Zitao whispers right after they part, his breath fanning over Wu fan’s lips. It’s a little difficult for Wu Fan to hear him over the sound of the shower water washing over them and the rushing of blood in his ears, but Wu Fan finds himself nodding nonetheless.
It only takes Zitao a few more tugs and erratic strokes before Wu Fan abruptly pushes his hand away, his erection now standing tall and bobbing in mid-air with arousal. Zitao doesn’t look too happy being rudely interrupted like that and Wu Fan is almost tempted to kiss the pout that immediately slips on his face. Instead, Wu fan dives straight to what he’s set to do, subsequently ignoring Zitao’s tank top in his haste to rid him of his sweatpants.
Zitao shivers as soon as he steps out of his sweatpants, the lower part of his body bare and exposed. Wu Fan pulls him close and kisses him again, tongue curling against Zitao’s as Wu Fan licks his way inside Zitao’s mouth. They’ve done this several times already - kissing, that is - but Wu Fan treats every single kiss like it’s their first time all over again, always taking time to explore every nook and cranny. Zitao loves it.
The rough surface of Wu Fan’s denim grazes against Zitao’s sensitive cock and a whimper slips even through their connected mouths. Encouraged by that little sound of pleasure from Zitao, Wu Fan deliberately moves in time with Zitao as he rocks his hips, making sure that their cocks brush against each other every now and then.
“I missed you. I missed this,” Wu Fan admits, breathy and honest.
Zitao is all but ready to wrangle the words out of his throat for his response but before he can do so, he sees Wu fan already sinking down to his knees. Zitao can only do nothing but moan at the feel of Wu Fan’s tongue slicking against the underside of his cock. It takes everything for Zitao to stop himself from pushing deeper into the tempting wetness of Wu Fan’s mouth so he settles for grabbing Wu fan’s hair instead, unbelievably soft between the spaces of his fingers.
While Zitao tries to control himself with one of his hands threaded in Wu Fan’s hair, he holds two of Wu Fan’s fingers close to his mouth with his other, greedily sucking and lapping them with his tongue. It takes a second or two before Zitao releases Wu Fan’s fingers from his mouth, now generously coated with saliva. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wu fan brings them between Zitao’s ass cheeks and gently prods his entrance.
When Wu Fan presses a spit-slicked finger inside, Zitao lets out a little gasp, head canting back in pleasure and pain from the sudden intrusion. Wu fan continues to hum around him, cheeks hollowing, in an attempt to direct Zitao’s attention away from the discomfort. Soon after, when Zitao is all but erratically thrusting in Wu Fan’s mouth, a second finger slides right in and Zitao has half a mind to feel shameless as he fucks himself on Wu Fan’s digits.
“Wu Fan, stop,” Zitao manages to say. “I can’t-”
Slowly, Wu Fan draws back, Zitao’s almost bitter desire still lingering on his tongue. He gets on his feet again and tugs Zitao close, cupping his face before letting him taste himself on those lips, inside Wu Fan’s mouth.
“Please.”
It only takes one word for Wu Fan to finally move. Gingerly, he lifts and Zitao wraps his legs around Wu Fan’s waist. Zitao’s back is pressed securely against the tiled wall and with Wu Fan’s hands placed under Zitao’s backside, holding him up, they both look for balance. It’s not easy - they both know this position works better on couples with a nifty height difference and, well, they have anything but that. Despite both of them being tall, though, somehow, they make it work.
It’s only the second time they’ve tried having sex like this and Zitao, if he is to be honest with himself, loves it. He loves seeing a myriad of expressions displayed on Wu Fan’s face as he slowly inches inside Zitao, loves that he can look into Wu Fan’s eyes and can recognize the reverence clearly reflected on them.
In one swift movement, Wu Fan thrusts in, all the way to the hilt, and it’s so sudden and violent that Zitao feels like the air just whooshed right out of his lungs. It isn’t too long before Zitao finds himself relaxing, though, welcoming the familiar feeling of being stretched like this, and he leans down and drops a light kiss beside Wu Fan’s mouth. Wu fan takes this as a cue for him to move and so, with a slight rock of his hips upwards, he does, consequently earning a low moan slipping from Zitao’s lips.
Pretty soon, Wu Fan sets a steady rhythm with his thrusts, driving himself upwards just as Zitao pushes down and meets him halfway. They’re a mess of too long limbs and breathy moans and incoherently uttered words but it’s alright - it’s more than alright - because this is just everything Wu Fan wanted and more. Wu Fan leans in, pressing his forehead against Zitao’s before kissing all over Zitao’s warm face. This makes Zitao giggle and Wu Fan can’t help but smile at that sound.
Wu Fan feels the pleasure quickly uncoiling in the pit of his belly and he loses himself, his then slow and steady thrusts now becoming erratic, hips making hard, stabbing jabs as he chases his impending orgasm. Zitao starts to babble unintelligibly as well, sentences a messy mix of Korean and Mandarin, before he eventually resorts to sobbing and pleading for Wu Fan to go faster, harder, moremoremore. After a particularly sharp thrust, Zitao feels himself go rigid, back trying to arch as he comes hard between their stomachs. Zitao is still a mess of tingling nerves when Wu Fan starts relentlessly slamming into him, enough that his body moves up with each rock of Wu Fan’s hips.
There’s a sudden noise coming from Wu Fan’s throat and Zitao hears his name somewhere there, just as loud and deep, when Wu Fan finally gives in to his orgasm. Wu Fan tries to catch his breath, chest rising and falling as he takes in huge gulps of air to fill his lungs. Suddenly, there’s Zitao smiling so brightly at him, and Zitao’s hand brushing the wet bangs away from his forehead and Wu Fan feels like all those efforts of trying to oxygenate himself are useless because the sight before him renders him breathless all over again. Zitao cradles his face to the side of his neck and Wu Fan can’t think of anything else to do but drop a kiss to Zitao’s shoulder.
Feeling like his legs would give up on him soon (because it’s obviously hard trying to hold both his and Zitao’s weight together), Wu Fan turns around so that his back is pressed against the wall before sliding down, bringing a very exhausted Zitao with him.
“Welcome home,” Zitao murmurs, sounding so sleepy and exhausted.
Wu Fan doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, hugging Zitao closer to his chest.
It’s great to be home, indeed.
notes:
- alternate fic summary can be “where wu fan feels like home is also having his dick up zitao’s ass” IM SORRY, I TRIED??? u________u
- also, first taoris fic so forgive me for the lameness and disgusting fluff
- comments are appreciated!!! :3
nc-17; romance, fluff; wu fan/zitao; 4,716w
summary: wu fan considers a lot of places as his home. but it is only in a place where zitao is does wu fan really feel being in one. [post-exo disbandment!au]
a/n: because this nsfw fanart gave me too much feels and i don’t understand why no one has written fic for that glorious art yet ;_________________;
huge thank you to aya unnir for reading most of this over for me. ilu <33
for abbie, elaine, clara, maia, agot, jam, jema, joie and all the other taoris shippers in my tlist.
hi and pls accept my humble offer of love. ♥
It’s past five o’clock in the afternoon when Wu Fan’s plane touches down in Beijing and Wu Fan finds himself heaving a huge sigh of relief when the flight attendant finally comes through the intercom and announces their arrival. Wu Fan feels every part of his body ache from having to sit through one of the longest flights he’s ever had in his life. His neck is stiff and his legs are numb, having been uncomfortably twisted so that he could fit his large frame in the small space, shins cramped against the underside of the seat in front and knees jammed against the seat back. This isn’t anything new - god knows he’s traveled far longer than eleven hours for one of their last concerts back when they were still in EXO - but there’s still something infinitely exhausting about it despite going through the same motions and getting on the same damned flights for so many times.
It’s not like Wu Fan really has a choice. Just shy of two years after EXO disbanded, SM was quick on their feet to appoint Wu Fan as the head of the PR department of their newly opened branch in Toronto, and Wu Fan, recognizing how big of an opportunity it was to work again for the same company who had helped him realize his dreams, readily accepted their offer. SM was spared from having to look elsewhere for the right person for the job and Wu Fan was granted with every single chance to see his family in Vancouver - it was practically a win-win situation for everyone.
Being back in Vancouver for a couple of days had been good and all - truth be told, letting his mother spoil the hell out of him every once in a while was something Wu Fan secretly looked forward to - but Wu Fan misses home and there’s nowhere else in the world he wants to be in at this very moment but in his modest apartment in Qingdao.
But, more than the usual comfort and warmth within the confines of his apartment, Wu Fan misses the person he left behind, the same person who gave him a thousand and more reasons to settle down in Qingdao in the first place.
When Zitao refused Wu Fan’s offer to come with him to Canada the first time around, it had been a big surprise to the both of them. Back in their idol fame days, it was common knowledge that Zitao had all but made it his life mission to be a constant presence by Wu Fan’s side. Wu Fan hadn’t seen anything wrong with that and so alongside the fact that he was the maknae, Wu Fan naturally indulged him as much as he could. No one even batted an eyelash at the way Zitao attached himself to Wu Fan no matter where they went, at the way he basically jumped at every opportunity to share a room with him.
Zitao’s refusal - the first of many - had been a staggering but, at the same time, pleasant surprise because while a young Zitao would have clung to Wu Fan and insisted on tagging along wherever duizhang went, the older Zitao is anything but adamant and clingy.
The sudden change had Wu Fan feeling torn at first. A part of him had wanted Zitao to say yes, to assure Wu Fan that he would be by his side while Wu Fan stayed in Canada for work. However, despite his disappointment, there was still a part of him that felt incredibly proud to see Zitao standing before him, firm and independent even on his own, to hear him say, “you’ll be back, and you know I’ll be waiting right here when you return” with so much confidence laced in his words.
Apparently, Zitao knew him more than Wu Fan knew himself because, after only a month and a half of staying in Canada - a month and a half worth of phone calls, and emails and missing and craving each other - Wu Fan yielded and promptly decided that the exhaustion from having to go back and forth from Canada to Qingdao was nothing compared to the feeling of home and belongingness with Zitao.
Up to this day, even after his fifth consecutive roundtrip travel to Toronto this month for yet another emergency meeting of their department, Wu Fan still believes he’d made the right decision.
Wu Fan stretches as much as he can in his place to let the blood circulate back into his extremities again before reaching up to grab his things in the luggage compartment. He’s only brought two bags for his entire trip, just enough to last him during his two-week stay in Canada; he has no plans of being away from Zitao for longer than that, anyway. Steering his way down the aisle and through the plane doors, Wu fan directs a nod to the flight attendant as she bows and wishes him a great day ahead.
There’s something akin to anticipation that quickly washes over him the moment Wu Fan takes his first step out of the plane. There is absolutely no reason for him to feel this giddy and nervous at the same time, but then Zitao’s face pops up in his head for a second, wearing one of his many panda pajamas as he stands by the doorway and greets Wu Fan home with a smile and a warm hug (and, if he’s lucky, maybe “welcome home sex” as well), and it’s taking every bit of Wu Fan’s willpower to stop the stupid smile that keeps on tugging at the corners of his lips.
It’s ridiculous, Wu Fan knows; he still needs to travel for five more hours on a bullet train to get to Qingdao but just five more hours away from Zitao is nothing compared to the eleven-hour flight he had to sit through just to get to Beijing.
Unable to help himself anymore, Wu Fan sends Zitao a quick message, eventually letting a small smile slip on his usually stoic face, before pocketing his phone and continuing on his way again.
I’m home.
It is the peaceful sight of Zitao sleeping on the couch that welcomes Wu Fan home as soon as he steps through the doorway and into their living room.
The lights are out, the whole room nearly engulfed in darkness, and if it wasn’t for the little illumination brought about by their tv - which, Wu Fan momentarily notices, is currently playing one of Zitao’s favorite dramas - he probably wouldn’t have noticed the Zitao-shaped lump lounging on the couch. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s past ten o’clock already and Wu Fan lets out a frustrated sigh because, obviously, he’d just spent the whole day traveling and why in heaven’s name didn’t he take an earlier flight back to Beijing?
Wu Fan was honestly looking forward to Zitao’s kisses welcoming him back because it’s been two long, god-awful weeks since he’d last felt those lips on his. But, well, seeing Zitao curled up on the couch, face innocent and serene as he sleeps, Wu Fan supposes it isn’t entirely bad coming home to this.
Wu Fan can’t help but take a moment to appreciate the view.
Zitao is lying half-curled like always, one arm tucked under his cheek to pillow his face while the other just hangs limply by his side. Zitao’s position doesn’t look anywhere near comfortable: his body is slouched and his knees are slightly bent, barely making it onto the couch as though trying to fit himself with his feet hanging over the edge.
Wu Fan sighs. Maybe it’s time to consider buying a larger couch if this ends up happening more frequently.
Quietly, Wu Fan toes his shoes off and pads closer, each step light and unhurried to avoid accidentally waking Zitao up. It’s only when Wu Fan is close enough to crouch down and observe does he realize that Zitao is actually wearing his clothes: an old, black tank-top that’s always stashed in the very back of their bottom drawer. Something in him stirs and Wu Fan, for what seems to be the nth time in his life, is convinced yet again that he’s probably saved an entire galaxy in some other lifetime to be this lucky.
Chanyeol had been the first one to know about Wu Fan’s plan of living together with Zitao after EXO had disbanded, after the members had gone their separate ways, doing their own thing. He had jokingly called Wu Fan a lucky bastard then and Wu Fan remembers sputtering indignantly at that remark because, if anything, Wu Fan strongly believed it was Zitao who’s actually lucky to have him.
But now, Wu Fan realizes with a slight shake of his head and soft laughter bubbling from his lips, maybe lucky bastard did suit him well.
Unconsciously, Wu Fan reaches out and brushes Zitao’s bangs away from his face, gentle fingers carding through his hair in the process. When Wu Fan suddenly becomes aware of what he’s doing, though, it’s a second too late to snatch his hand back because Zitao is already stirring, his face leaning in to the warmth of Wu Fan’s palm even more. Eyelids start to slowly flutter open and Wu Fan is greeted with a lazy smile and a soft “hey” thrown in his direction as soon as Zitao recognizes the person crouched in front of him.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Wu Fan murmurs affectionately before leaning down to peck Zitao square on the mouth. It’s only a quick touch, just a fleeting sensation of lips against lips, but it’s enough to send that familiar jolt of electricity down Wu Fan’s spine.
“…fell asleep while waiting for you to come home,” Zitao replies. Wu Fan smiles indulgently at Zitao’s rough, sleep-laden voice; he really doesn’t mind hearing it for the rest of his life. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven,” Wu fan easily answers. “You shouldn’t have waited for me here.”
“I was planning to welcome you home! But I got tired of waiting after two hours and decided to lie down on the couch. I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep,” Zitao half complains, half whines. Wu Fan curbs the urge to laugh. Zitao is just too cute like this when he isn’t too busy trying to sound mature all the time.
Wu Fan leans in even closer, his nose almost touching Zitao’s now, and whispers, “You can try and make it up to me now that you’re awake?”
It’s not supposed to sound like he’s hinting at something that goes beyond the PG-13 rating so when those words just came out the way they did, Wu Fan momentarily waits in bated breath to gauge Zitao’s reaction. When Zitao just blinks at him, though, before eventually scooting backwards, leaving a little unoccupied space beside him, Wu Fan can’t help but feel a little disappointed at the response he got.
Zitao unblinkingly stares at him, as though trying to convey a very obvious answer that needs no words to be understood. Apparently, Wu Fan’s a little bit on the slow side today so when he fails to figure out what Zitao really means, Zitao just sighs and pats the empty spot on the couch. “C’mere then.”
Wu Fan just raises an inquisitive brow.
He’s not sure if it’s Zitao’s sleep-muddled brain that drives him to come up with such an insane idea but Wu Fan is entirely convinced that this isn’t going to work. Zitao couldn’t even fit on the couch by himself, let alone two people - and someone who can rival Zitao’s height and build at that. He’s about to tell Zitao that their bed is far bigger and comfier for their...nightly activities when Zitao calls his attention and impatiently pats the space beside him again.
The couch isn’t really meant for two - this realization isn’t surprising. But how they still manage to fit on the couch together, albeit resorting to settling into a very awkward and uncomfortable position, certainly is. Wu Fan thinks even the slightest movement can send both of them toppling on the floor and it’s entirely possible because one of his asscheeks is just hanging over the edge and there is practically nothing but air cushioning the other dangling half of his body. The only thing holding Wu Fan in his position is Zitao’s arm securely curled around his waist and his other leg haphazardly thrown over Wu Fan’s lower section.
This isn’t exactly the best place to sleep on and their arrangement offers anything but comfort and relaxation for Wu Fan’s exhausted self. But, well, he can’t seem to find it in himself to complain, not when Zitao is warm and cozy beside him. Hot puffs of breath ghost across Wu Fan’s neck and he finds himself shivering from the occasional contact of Zitao’s lips against his skin.
Wu Fan’s body likes to betray him most of the time. It moves on pure instinct when it comes to Zitao, responding in a way that frequently makes Wu Fan feel like he’s the biggest embarrassment on the face of the earth. He’d always depended on his ability to speak well - it was one of the many traits that leaders were expected to possess, after all - but with Zitao, it was a pointless attempt to even try because words would always, always, abandon him when Zitao was around, leaving his body to do all the talking.
Which is really anything but favorable for his dignity.
Wu Fan’s thoughts come to a sudden halt when he feels Zitao’s lips now pressing insistently on the side of his neck, leaving feather-light kisses as they continue their journey towards the underside of his jaw and ear. There’s also Zitao’s hand slowly dragging down his chest with frustrating slowness, only stopping for a second to pop open one of the buttons of his dress shirt before slipping a hand inside. Wu fan feels like he’s going to combust any second just from Zitao’s touches and it’s really the worst time to be turned on right now because he knows he can’t stop once they’ve started and there is absolutely no way they’ll be having sex on this couch.
Just as Wu Fan is about to let the words forming in his head slip right through his mouth, the lips on his neck and the hand on his chest both stop simultaneously, leaving Wu Fan confused and desperately aching for more. It’s a pretty good time to speak now, Wu Fan thinks internally, so he tries but-
“Let me draw you a quick bath first so you can clean yourself up and we can go to bed.”
Wu fan stares at Zitao. He refuses to believe that this is actually happening, that Zitao just basically interrupted their alone time just so Wu Fan can clean himself up first. Apparently, Zitao is hell bent on shoving the harsh reality into his face because, without another word, he abruptly gets up from the couch, crushing Wu Fan underneath him in the process, and heads straight towards the bathroom.
Wu Fan loudly groans. “I won’t stay clean for very long, though, and you know that! Why do I have to do this now?”
“Because you stink,” Zitao not-so-nicely responds, his voice echoing from inside the bathroom, “so get your ass out here and stop complaining.”
Wu Fan definitely doesn’t stink but he has half a mind to answer Zitao back, especially if their precious alone time is on the line. Instead, he forcibly drags himself up from the couch and saunters towards the bathroom, body feeling increasingly heavy with each step.
Zitao is currently fiddling with the shower knob when Wu Fan finally reaches the door. There is positively nothing interesting about the way Zitao’s fingers are curled around the knob, continuously turning it this way and that, with the way his brows furrow in utter concentration as he tries to get the right water temperature for Wu Fan’s bath. But, despite knowing these things, Wu Fan still catches himself intently staring at Zitao, his attention undivided and entirely focused on him.
There’s something incredibly domestic about this, about them - with the way Zitao goes out of his way just to make sure that the water won’t be too hot or too cold for Wu Fan, with the way they always spend their weekend trying to cook for the nth time because of Zitao’s insistence and enthusiastic cheers of “it’ll be fun, trust me!” (Wu fan never really figured out the fun part in eating burnt food and tidying up the whole kitchen, by the way), with the way Wu Fan ends up curled against Zitao on the couch as they laugh heartily over random late night shows, not because Wu fan genuinely finds them funny, but because Zitao’s laugh is just infectious like that.
It’s with these thoughts still running inside Wu Fan’s head that he finds himself entering the bathroom, cautiously walking towards Zitao who still remains as oblivious as ever as he experimentally manipulates the shower knobs. A few more steps and Wu Fan’s close enough to touch Zitao even with the pads of his fingertips, to feel the warmth radiating from Zitao’s skin.
Suddenly, Zitao turns around, eyes going wide after seeing Wu Fan standing so close to him. He’d been too busy toying with the water temperature to even hear Wu Fan step in.
“Oh. Wu Fan, the-”
Wu Fan’s lips quickly seal Zitao’s own, preventing any words from further slipping out of his mouth. It’s a little alarming to feel the urgency and need and desperation pouring out from Wu Fan’s kisses and as much as Zitao wants to pull away, he can’t because there are hands placed on either side of his face, holding him steady and still. It doesn’t help that Wu Fan has him trapped inside the shower as well, effectively blocking the only exit with his body.
By the time Zitao feels Wu Fan’s tongue skimming over his teeth, timidly asking for entrance, Zitao throws the remaining self-restraint he has out the window because it feels so fucking good to have Wu Fan this close again that Zitao can’t help but give in and just melt into his hold.
As though moving on their own accord, Zitao’s fingers deftly work on the remaining buttons of Wu fan’s dress shirt, popping them open one by one until all that’s stopping him from feeling the smooth planes of Wu Fan’s abdomen is his undershirt. The pattering of the warm shower water isn’t enough to drown the guttural moan that Zitao manages to draw from Wu Fan’s throat when he suddenly flicks Wu Fan’s right nipple, just a fleeting brush of his thumb that sends another of jolt of pleasure dripping down his spine.
Wu fan’s sure that there should be some kind of mental preparation for this because after going through two long, sex-free weeks, Wu Fan isn’t sure if he’s going to last long, not with Zitao taking his sweet time in teasing the hell out of him.
With his mind being clouded with lust and body getting racked by quickly building pleasure, it takes a moment for Wu Fan to realize that Zitao has already discarded him of his drenched clothes, mouth now latched on his chest to leave blossoming red marks on pale skin. One of Zitao’s wandering hands teases along Wu Fan’s belt buckle, fingers dragging along the metal, to the leather of Wu Fan’s belt and then down, down, down to his zipper.
Zitao doesn’t touch him, though. Instead, he continues to tease Wu Fan with light presses of his fingertips along the outline of Wu Fan’s cock, almost touching but not quite.
It’s damn frustrating for Wu Fan because there isn’t anything he wants right now but for Zitao to just fucking touch him and he doesn’t have the patience of a saint to let Zitao play this little teasing game and not do anything about it. So Wu Fan growls, unable to hide his frustration any longer, before grabbing Zitao’s hand and placing it over the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Zitao tears his mouth away from Wu Fan’s left nipple (which he has been lavishing with so much attention for quite some time now) and looks up with a smirk on his face. “You’re so impatient.”
Wu Fan doesn’t even deny that with a verbal response. Instead, he eagerly rocks into Zitao’s palm to show him how impatient he really is.
The feeling of Zitao rubbing him through his pants is nowhere near the immense pleasure he gets when Zitao finally undoes Wu Fan’s jeans and quickly wraps his hand around his cock. He brings Zitao’s face up for another heated kiss, an attempt to choke back the loud moan that threatens to rumble from his throat, just as Zitao thumbs his slit, spreading the precome already gathering around the tip down his length.
“Good?” Zitao whispers right after they part, his breath fanning over Wu fan’s lips. It’s a little difficult for Wu Fan to hear him over the sound of the shower water washing over them and the rushing of blood in his ears, but Wu Fan finds himself nodding nonetheless.
It only takes Zitao a few more tugs and erratic strokes before Wu Fan abruptly pushes his hand away, his erection now standing tall and bobbing in mid-air with arousal. Zitao doesn’t look too happy being rudely interrupted like that and Wu Fan is almost tempted to kiss the pout that immediately slips on his face. Instead, Wu fan dives straight to what he’s set to do, subsequently ignoring Zitao’s tank top in his haste to rid him of his sweatpants.
Zitao shivers as soon as he steps out of his sweatpants, the lower part of his body bare and exposed. Wu Fan pulls him close and kisses him again, tongue curling against Zitao’s as Wu Fan licks his way inside Zitao’s mouth. They’ve done this several times already - kissing, that is - but Wu Fan treats every single kiss like it’s their first time all over again, always taking time to explore every nook and cranny. Zitao loves it.
The rough surface of Wu Fan’s denim grazes against Zitao’s sensitive cock and a whimper slips even through their connected mouths. Encouraged by that little sound of pleasure from Zitao, Wu Fan deliberately moves in time with Zitao as he rocks his hips, making sure that their cocks brush against each other every now and then.
“I missed you. I missed this,” Wu Fan admits, breathy and honest.
Zitao is all but ready to wrangle the words out of his throat for his response but before he can do so, he sees Wu fan already sinking down to his knees. Zitao can only do nothing but moan at the feel of Wu Fan’s tongue slicking against the underside of his cock. It takes everything for Zitao to stop himself from pushing deeper into the tempting wetness of Wu Fan’s mouth so he settles for grabbing Wu fan’s hair instead, unbelievably soft between the spaces of his fingers.
While Zitao tries to control himself with one of his hands threaded in Wu Fan’s hair, he holds two of Wu Fan’s fingers close to his mouth with his other, greedily sucking and lapping them with his tongue. It takes a second or two before Zitao releases Wu Fan’s fingers from his mouth, now generously coated with saliva. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wu fan brings them between Zitao’s ass cheeks and gently prods his entrance.
When Wu Fan presses a spit-slicked finger inside, Zitao lets out a little gasp, head canting back in pleasure and pain from the sudden intrusion. Wu fan continues to hum around him, cheeks hollowing, in an attempt to direct Zitao’s attention away from the discomfort. Soon after, when Zitao is all but erratically thrusting in Wu Fan’s mouth, a second finger slides right in and Zitao has half a mind to feel shameless as he fucks himself on Wu Fan’s digits.
“Wu Fan, stop,” Zitao manages to say. “I can’t-”
Slowly, Wu Fan draws back, Zitao’s almost bitter desire still lingering on his tongue. He gets on his feet again and tugs Zitao close, cupping his face before letting him taste himself on those lips, inside Wu Fan’s mouth.
“Please.”
It only takes one word for Wu Fan to finally move. Gingerly, he lifts and Zitao wraps his legs around Wu Fan’s waist. Zitao’s back is pressed securely against the tiled wall and with Wu Fan’s hands placed under Zitao’s backside, holding him up, they both look for balance. It’s not easy - they both know this position works better on couples with a nifty height difference and, well, they have anything but that. Despite both of them being tall, though, somehow, they make it work.
It’s only the second time they’ve tried having sex like this and Zitao, if he is to be honest with himself, loves it. He loves seeing a myriad of expressions displayed on Wu Fan’s face as he slowly inches inside Zitao, loves that he can look into Wu Fan’s eyes and can recognize the reverence clearly reflected on them.
In one swift movement, Wu Fan thrusts in, all the way to the hilt, and it’s so sudden and violent that Zitao feels like the air just whooshed right out of his lungs. It isn’t too long before Zitao finds himself relaxing, though, welcoming the familiar feeling of being stretched like this, and he leans down and drops a light kiss beside Wu Fan’s mouth. Wu fan takes this as a cue for him to move and so, with a slight rock of his hips upwards, he does, consequently earning a low moan slipping from Zitao’s lips.
Pretty soon, Wu Fan sets a steady rhythm with his thrusts, driving himself upwards just as Zitao pushes down and meets him halfway. They’re a mess of too long limbs and breathy moans and incoherently uttered words but it’s alright - it’s more than alright - because this is just everything Wu Fan wanted and more. Wu Fan leans in, pressing his forehead against Zitao’s before kissing all over Zitao’s warm face. This makes Zitao giggle and Wu Fan can’t help but smile at that sound.
Wu Fan feels the pleasure quickly uncoiling in the pit of his belly and he loses himself, his then slow and steady thrusts now becoming erratic, hips making hard, stabbing jabs as he chases his impending orgasm. Zitao starts to babble unintelligibly as well, sentences a messy mix of Korean and Mandarin, before he eventually resorts to sobbing and pleading for Wu Fan to go faster, harder, moremoremore. After a particularly sharp thrust, Zitao feels himself go rigid, back trying to arch as he comes hard between their stomachs. Zitao is still a mess of tingling nerves when Wu Fan starts relentlessly slamming into him, enough that his body moves up with each rock of Wu Fan’s hips.
There’s a sudden noise coming from Wu Fan’s throat and Zitao hears his name somewhere there, just as loud and deep, when Wu Fan finally gives in to his orgasm. Wu Fan tries to catch his breath, chest rising and falling as he takes in huge gulps of air to fill his lungs. Suddenly, there’s Zitao smiling so brightly at him, and Zitao’s hand brushing the wet bangs away from his forehead and Wu Fan feels like all those efforts of trying to oxygenate himself are useless because the sight before him renders him breathless all over again. Zitao cradles his face to the side of his neck and Wu Fan can’t think of anything else to do but drop a kiss to Zitao’s shoulder.
Feeling like his legs would give up on him soon (because it’s obviously hard trying to hold both his and Zitao’s weight together), Wu Fan turns around so that his back is pressed against the wall before sliding down, bringing a very exhausted Zitao with him.
“Welcome home,” Zitao murmurs, sounding so sleepy and exhausted.
Wu Fan doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, hugging Zitao closer to his chest.
It’s great to be home, indeed.
notes:
- alternate fic summary can be “where wu fan feels like home is also having his dick up zitao’s ass” IM SORRY, I TRIED??? u________u
- also, first taoris fic so forgive me for the lameness and disgusting fluff
- comments are appreciated!!! :3