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“It’s your fault we’re in this situation,” Hansol says testily to Chan. “If you hadn’t put that freaking clause in about us all living together, Jun-hyung wouldn’t have walked in on us yesterday and you could’ve gotten your dick sucked a lot sooner.”
“But you’re going to suck my dick right now, aren’t you?” Chan says reasonably. “So the possibility of being walked in on isn’t stopping you. Really hyung, in all these ten years, when has the prospect of being walked in on ever stopped you?
“Shut up,” Hansol says for lack of a better reply. He goes back to angrily snuffling his face around Chan’s thighs, purposely avoiding his crotch area. Dick. Luckily, Chan’s inner thighs are large and muscular enough to constitute some type of erogenous zone themselves, even if it requires a bit more stimulation. Except, seeing Hansol’s flushed face and furrowed brows, pouty lips angrily dragging themselves over the slips of thigh that his shorts reveal, it’s also kinda doing something for Chan. He counts that as a win.
“Stop getting turned on by this,” Hansol complains.
Chan flashes the smuggest, non-guiltiest grin he has in his repertoire. As if he would ever apologize for his working, mint-condition dick. It’s not a competition, but judging by the orgasm disparity in the dorms, Chan’s pretty sure he’s in the lead.
“I swear, you and Seungkwan are the same. I could just sit here and you sick freaks would find some way to get hard.”
Chan resents the comparison. At least he has standards, unlike Seungkwan, who Chan’s once seen get hard from being ignored by Hansol. No couth at all, that guy
“I’m better than that guy,” Chan decides on saying, instead of talking about the time he saw Seungkwan finger Hansol’s ear on live television. “I’m not a control freak. I’m letting you do what you want, aren’t I?”
“And you’re somehow getting pleased by it,” Hansol sighs. “At least Seungkwan had the decency to got hard from micromanaging our schedules to figure out how long I could have his cock in my mouth before coming. You know, normal shit.”
That’s normal? Chan mouths incredulously to himself. Chan has seen a lot, living in this cramped space with thirteen other grown men for ten years, but somehow he’s missed this part of Hansol and Seungkwan’s weird sexscapades. He feels strangely left out. Why hadn’t Seungkwan penciled him in for a dick-sucking appointment with Hansol? Chan resolves to bring this up the next time Seungkwan is back in the dorm.
“ I’m the sexually normal one here,” Chan says woundedly. “Isn’t it normal to get aroused from watching your lover nose their cute little face around your privates? It’s a very enticing image.”
Hansol makes a face that says exactly how abnormal he thinks Chan is being.
“God, you sound like a serial killer.” He complains, lifting his face from where he’s been nosing around tragically far away from Chan’s actual privates. “Such a creep,” he adds affectionately, apparently deciding that the best course of action is rewarding Chan for his creepy behavior by licking a warm strip perilously close to his balls. Like a cat.
But jokes on him: they’ve been sitting on Myungho’s bed for fifteen minutes without any cock-sucking action going on, and Chan’s dick has not softened in the slightest, despite being trapped and chafing uncomfortably inside of his boxers. That’s going on their leaderboard for sure.
“Besides,” Hansol continues, having given up on licking Chan’s skin and is just pillowing his head lazily on one massive thigh. “What if what I want to do is just edge you for thirty minutes until someone else walks in on us?” Hansol says pointedly. “Would you still just let me do whatever I wanted?”
Chan considers it for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally. “It would still feel nice if it were you, hyung.”
Chan resolutely does not make any snuffling cat comparisons in his head. He is not as down bad as Seungkwan.
Hansol lets out a frustrated whine and buries his head in one of Chan’s large thighs. “Ughhh,” he groans, voice muffled as he grips Chan’s legs with more force than strictly necessary. “You’re impossible. I should just leave you here, and go do the laundry instead.”
“Hold on,” Chan protests. “I just said an extremely gentlemanly thing to you. You’re supposed to fall over yourselves to finally get my cock in your mouth after, not talk about laundry .”
“Nope,” Hansol says, enunciating his words annoyingly. “What you were supposed to say is, “No Hansol-ah, we are not going to sit here for thirty minutes while you drool over my clothed godly dick, instead please refer to my annotated blowjob notes so we can bust expeditiously.’”
The only thing that Chan can think to say is: “You take blowjob notes?”
Hansol rolls his eyes like Chan is the insane person here. “No, Seungkwan does. Try to keep up.”
“Hang on, you’re comparing me to him again?” Chan complains. “I’m way girthier than he is. Not fair.”
“ Seungkwan has never put a clause in our contract that stipulated thirteen grown men living together in the same dorm for ten years.” Hansol retorts.
“This again?” Chan sighs. “That topic is so old and tired by now.”
Hansol decides that the best response is to bump his nose against Chan’s clothed dick with righteous fury. Like an enraged little kitten.
“We were just talking about it yesterday ,” Hansol sniffs. “And part of that discussion included kicking you out of the group, remember, so you better watch your mouth.”
“You were the one who brought that up!!” Chan splutters, feeling extremely wronged. “I’m the one who should be watching your mouth! Which, as I think about it, should be on my cock by now, actually!”
Hansol huffs and mutters ‘ watch it’ darkly, before obediently complying and unzipping Chan’s shorts with a petulant humph. Chan’s cock springs free to his immense relief. As the maknae of Seventeen, Chan can withstand a lot of teasing, but somehow resisting Hansol’s brand of teasing— which is fifty percent his natural whorish innocence, and fifty percent invoking Seungkwan (which Chan is turned on by for reasons he does not wish to contemplate)— is its own special test of willpower.
“There there, was that so hard now?” Chan coos sickeningly sweet, stroking Hansol’s cute, short tufts of hair lovingly. “That’s right, our Hansollie is sweet and obedient, isn’t he~”
“That’s not the strategy you were supposed to employ,” Hansol informs him sulkily. Despite his whiny tone, he spits an impressive glob of his own spit on Chan’s dick that betrays his eagerness.
Chan rolls his eyes. “What blowjob strategy was I supposed to use here anyways?”
“Well.” Hansol says. He pauses with a scrunched up, annoyed look on his face. “Wait, don’t call it that.” He adds as a side thought. Chan hums in fake acquiesce.
“I was trying to rile you up so that you would get annoyed and just facefuck me like Seungkwan does,” Hansol explains annoyingly. “But you were too busy imagefarming to notice.
“My bad,” Chan says sarcastically while trying to figure out whatever Hansol means by “image-farming.”
“Yeah it is your bad,” Hansol says. “We could’ve had some fun sexy banter about the time limit, and how I should put my smart mouth to sluttier uses by just choking on your cock. I would’ve cried and been so helpless, and you could feel so big and powerful.”
“I don’t see why we have to go to all that effort, when that’s pretty much what happens when we have sex normally,” Chan reasons. Does this mean this is what Seungkwan and Hansol usually do? Because in that case, Chan is pretty sure he’s already leagues above Seungkwan in terms of ‘number of times he made Hansol cry during sex,’ which is not a leaderboard but should be.
“You’re a terrible maknae,” Hansol says, cruelly letting Chan’s dick suffer in the cold air (because now that Wonwoo is gone, their air conditioning unit is cranked up to the coolest setting). “Be nicer to me.”
“You’re the one who wanted me to be mean to you!”
“That’s Seungkwan’s job,” Hansol mumbles, pressing his cheek against the left side of Chan’s cock so he can lick a strip of spit on the balls. “You’re the gentleman, remember?”
Chan rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now you want me to dote on you. As if you don’t get enough of that from the other members.”
“Not true,” Hansol says stubbornly, “Wonwoo-hyung asked me to be mean to him one more time before he enlisted. It was hard, but I did what he wanted.”
Before Chan can reply ‘ Yeah I bet it was hard alright ,’ Hansol has finally decided that he wants to start actually putting his mouth on Chan’s cock. He starts with tiny little kitten licks, purposefully avoiding the leaking tip to mouth helplessly at the base, cupping Chan’s balls in his warm, large hands.
Chan shivers a little. Hansol’s hands are still the nicest among their members, he privately thinks. Despite their size, Hansol’s hands are soft and delicate from lack of use, wide palms and long fingers that have a pleasant feeling when they are not kneading Chan’s balls like a cat.
“Hey,” Chan says. “Stop that.”
Hansol flashes him a dreamy little smile from where he’s nestled himself comfortably inside Chan’s inner thighs, already starting to look cockdrunk. More importantly, he does not look apologetic in the slightest. Chan flicks his forehead warningly.
“It’s not sexy when you do that,” Hansol grumbles. “Can’t you tug my hair or something?”
“You cut it too short for that,” Chan reminds him. “But I can still do this!” He starts vigorously scratching Hansol’s scalp with both hands, like disciplining a misbehaving kitten. Well, with the force that Chan’s using, the metaphor isn’t as apt. Still, Hansol leans into his touch with a pleased gasp.
“Come on, you can be meaner than that,” Hansol says tremblingly, taunting despite his drawn out whines and relaxed spine, whole body leaning entirely into Chan’s lower half.
Chan squeezes his thighs together warningly, squishing one half of Hansol’s upturned face against his cock, and the other half against muscular thigh. Hansol just moans happily, eyes rolling up just from having a cock pressed into his face and from being manhandled by a pair of thighs.
Who knew that such a haughty, beautiful face could hide such a slutty personality? When Hansol gets like this, his eyes glistening from tears, hazy and worshipful, he looks like you could do anything to him. In this state, Chan could spit on him and he would thank him.
“Mean like this?” Chan taunts, soaking in the sight of Hansol’s teary eyes and red, panting mouth.
Meanwhile, Hansol just grins shakily at him, like he wasn’t just crying and gagging for it. Against his will, Chan feels his heart melt at the perfect boyish innocence of the look— a purity that only virgins and seasoned whores can replicate, a delicate balance that Hansol manages to strike perfectly. Without thinking, he reaches out and brushes a tear away with his thumb, stroking Hansol’s sharp cheekbones softly.
“Not even close,” Hansol pants. “I haven’t even gotten your cock fully in my mouth yet. You think Seungkwan would stand for a slight like that?”
Chan’s eyes darken hungrily. He’s above being provoked by mentions of Seungkwan (really, he is— it’s Hansol’s favorite tactic, so Chan has built up an impressive resistance), but Hansol has oh-so helpfully reminded him of their original purpose in this ridiculously drawn-out endeavor: for Chan to get his dick sucked. Save the occasional kitten licks, his dick has remained disturbingly un- sucked and far from its rightful place inside of Hansol’s stretched lips.
“You’re right,” Chan says consideringly. “We’ll have to fix that, of course. Open wide for me, Hansol-ah~”
Before Hansol can think of saying something bratty like ‘ Make me ,’ Chan wrenches his jaw open with his hands, extremely satisfied with the desperate whimper this produces from Hansol’s tearful face. It’s truly a testament to the whole “virgin-whore” aesthetic he’s got going on, that Hansol can look this desperate and ruined without having even gotten fucked properly yet. Fortunately, Chan can fix that for him.
“That nice enough for you, baby?” Chan cooes. “Or should I be even sweeter?”
Hansol moans something unintelligible that Chan takes to mean ‘ Yes hyung your cock is so much thicker than Seungkwan’s and I will only blue ball and tease him from now on.’
“Isn’t this so much better than kicking me out of the group?” Chan simpers meanly. “If I’m out, then you’ll be the maknae, and no one will bother being nice to you ever again.”
“Noooo,” Hansol sniffles dumbly, hiccuping slightly. His large eyes flutter with whorish desperation, as if demanding attention. “I don’ want that.”
He’s so pathetic that Chan almost wants to take pity on him and pet his head, tenderly reassuring him that he’s still their little baby to dote on and spoil.
“Then you’ll be a good boy and suck my cock, won’t you?” Chan gives in to his urge and strokes Hansol’s baby bangs gently. “Hyung will be gentle, I promise.”
“Don’ want that either,” Hansol mumbles, shockingly shy for the naked expression on his face. He looks down, as if trying to hide his wide brown eyes that gleam with unshed tears and desire. But Chan can read his body language with the accuracy of a dancer— his back arches and melts forward into Chan’s legs like a softened wax doll, loose and taut at the same time, betraying the depth of his wantonness.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” Chan sighs fondly.
“Fuck my face?” Hansol offers plaintively.
The door slams open with a loud thud.
“You started fucking Hansol without me?!” Seungkwan squawks offendedly.