venuma-blog

[venuma-blog]

the answer to life and everything

(mature content)

It was the trip of a lifetime, and yet everything had gone wrong so far. Joonmyun had barely managed to get his vacation days cleared in time, and thus they had spent far too much on last minute tickets and a last minute hotel room. Of course, Zitao’s suitcase had to lose three out of four wheels when Joonmyun’d tried to pull it out of the storage closet.

  “If you think I’m carrying a fifty pound bag everywhere, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “Why does your bag have to be fifty pounds?!”

  “You’re allowed up to fifty pounds for checked luggage.”

  “That doesn’t mean it has to be fifty pounds, Zitao!”

  Joonmyun’s was nowhere to be found, having probably been lent out to Baekhyun and “accidentally” never returned. There was another few hundred bucks down the drain. By the time they’d actually made it to the airport, they were late, almost missed their flight, and somehow, their seats were three rows apart.

  ”It’s only a six hour flight…It’ll be over before you know it,” Joonmyun offers sheepishly, trying to smush his carry on into the space left in the overhead compartment. A steward approaches, and the irritation of their surrounding passengers is evident. Zitao rolls his eyes and slumps down in his seat, looking out the window.

  His earbuds are jammed as far as they can go into his ears, but even Tinashe can’t drown out the wailing child in the row behind him. And it’s a seven hour flight.

  At the check-in desk, after a painfully cramped, seven hour flight, Joonmyun swore he could do it all by himself, and Zitao watched in idle amusement as he struggled with his Mandarin. Eventually, the poor receptionist seemed far too exasperated and lost, and Zitao stepped in much to Joonmyun’s chagrin.

  The hotel was overbooked and their room wasn’t nearly as nice as the suite Joonmyun swore they were supposed to have, but Zitao was just ready to explore. It took them twenty minutes to realize Joonmyun left his sunscreen back in Seoul, and after a rich scolding from Zitao, they managed to find a tiny, overpriced bottle in a vending machine downstairs.

  Then they finally made it to the beach, but Joonmyun mistimed the sunset, and they couldn’t see it behind the storm clouds (out of nowhere) anyways. As if adding insult to injury, it began to downpour shortly after Joonmyun suggests they just head back and order some room service.

  Joonmyun feels awful. All of this has piled up and made one hell of a first night on what was supposed to be their vacation – their break from busy lives and long hours at work and way too much school. Soaked to the core, they finally make it back to their room, and Joonmyun slumps against the door with a sigh. Zitao steps from his shoes and sheds his wet shirt immediately. The silence between them is thick and it makes the gnawing guilt in Joonmyun’s chest that much worse. He wants to say something, apologize even, but Zitao heads towards the shower without even looking at him, shutting the door firmly behind him, and it feels like the end of a conversation they never even had.

  With a sigh, Joonmyun rubs at his face, pushing his wet, brunette hair back from his eyes, and moves to get undressed. The sound of the shower takes over some of the silence at least, and Joonmyun grabs an extra towel off the desk to do his best to dry himself off. By the time the water in the bathroom shuts off, Joonmyun’s managed to mostly dry himself and pull on a clean pair of sweats, hunched over his laptop at the shoddy little desk against the wall. His screen is filled with weather reports, and he doesn’t even realize Zitao’s out of the shower until strong arms slide down over his shoulders and Zitao’s chin comes to rest atop Joonmyun’s head.

  “Hey,” Joonmyun starts softly, reaching up to run his palm over Zitao’s forearm. “The forecast says clear skies for the rest of the week, so tomorrow should be better. I promise.” Zitao nods a little, but says nothing, and Joonmyun closes his laptop with a frown.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.” Zitao switches to press his cheek against the top of Joonmyun’s head instead, and Joonmyun leans his head back just enough to press his nose into the soft skin.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Zitao gives a soft laugh, shaking his head.

  “It’s not your fault, hyung,” Zitao reassures him, turning to kiss his nose before starting to pull back. Joonmyun reaches up quickly to catch the back of Zitao’s neck and keep him in place, tilting upwards enough to brush their lips together. Zitao lets a soft smile spread across his lips and he nudges in with his nose, against Joonmyun’s cheek, as if nestling in to just the right spot before sealing their lips.

  Joonmyun is convinced that the answer to every question in life can be found in Zitao’s lips. The way they curve in against his own, the shape of their bow, the soft pout near the ends. They press perfectly against his own and no matter what he asked, what ails him, what life tries to throw at him, it’s all meaningless when their mouths are melting together like molasses in summer. Slow and sensual and before Joonmyun knows it, he’s out of his chair, facing the other, hands roaming up over damp skin, along every dip and curve of Zitao’s broad chest. Everything had gone wrong, but this was so right, and it makes up for everything.

  “I’m sorry—“ Joonmyun starts, but Zitao cuts him off with a quick shushing noise and a soft, “Stop talking, Joonma…”

  The rain against the window is white noise that Joonmyun hardly registers, his brow furrowed. Every sense is filled with Zitao – the scent of soap and shampoo, the warmth beneath his fingertips, the tender glide of their lips together, the taste of their tongues meeting in shy, brief flicks. Joonmyun takes a step, then another, slowly guiding Zitao back towards the mattress, shutting off the lamp as they pass and shrouding the entire room in darkness. The lingering light from the stormy sunset filters through their curtains, just enough to light their silhouettes as their eyes adjust. But Joonmyun doesn’t need to see with his eyes as his hands are doing a fine enough job of that, painting out the image of an almost bare (the small towel tied around his waist the only thing covering him) Zitao in his mind as they roam and read every finite detail.

  Zitao’s calves hit the back of the bed and Joonmyun wraps an arm tightly around his waist, guiding him back against the mattress slowly. A knee settles against the bed and he meets Zitao in another kiss, eyes falling shut and a groan spilling from his throat. Zitao relaxes into the sheets, hands sliding upwards over soft, pale skin, and around the back of his neck to drown in dark locks of hair. He keeps Joonmyun close, keeps him warm with their chests press so close that their heartbeats play offbeat of each other. Even if their vacation had started off rather unconventional, this was the real reason they’d come here. Sure, Zitao wanted to see the beach and he wanted to eat great food. He wanted to buy pointless souvenirs and lay out to tan, the salt of the sea drying over his skin. He wanted to pretend that work and school and responsibilities didn’t exist. But above all else, he wanted to get lost with Joonmyun.

  And in that moment, he is. He’s lost in his fingers and his lips and his tongue. He’s lost in Joonmyun’s dark eyes and his pale skin and his strong chest. He’s lost in Joonmyun’s warmth and his presence and his being and it’s okay that things were a disaster and that he’s exhausted and starving, because Joonmyun makes all of it go away. Joonmyun makes everything okay.

  They kiss like they’ve got nothing to lose. Joonmyun tightens his grip around Zitao’s waist and lifts him slightly, hoisting him upwards on the bed until they both fit. Zitao’s head drops back against the cheap 300-thread count pillows, and Joonmyun laughs softly at the way his blonde hair sticks to his forehead, still wet from his shower. Offended, Zitao wrinkles his nose and Joonmyun pushes his hair up and away, slow and careful, letting his fingers linger and trail. He settles over the other, a knee digging into the spring mattress on either side of Zitao, other hand pressed into the bed right beneath Zitao’s shoulder. With another soft laugh, Joonmyun brings his fingers down to gently rub out the wrinkles on the bridge of Zitao’s nose, until the other is giggling along with him, lips split in a warm smile, all teeth.

  Zitao looks up at Joonmyun with so much fondness that Joonmyun’s pretty sure he’s going to burst. Even in the darkness he can feel the heat and the affection in those sharp brown irises, and his ears heat at the tips. How Zitao can look so hot and yet so sweet at the same time will always astound him. The fingers on Zitao’s nose slide down over his lips and along his jaw, until he’s cupping the back of his neck again, pulling him in to kiss.

  Their mouths melt softly and Zitao’s eyes fall shut, arms wrapping firmly around Joonmyun’s torso, fingers pressing into bare skin. The towel around Zitao’s waist is barely hanging on by this point, and Joonmyun slips a hand down carefully to pull it away, tossing it off the bed to be picked up later. Bared beneath him, Zitao has never looked more beautiful, tan skin contrasting against the crinkly white sheets and dipping beneath every press of Joonmyun’s fingertips as he drags them down his chest. Their mouths part and Joonmyun drops his head to kiss down Zitao’s sharp jaw, up to the junction where he bites lightly, suckling inwards until the sound of the rain is joined by tender, pitched gasps.

  Zitao licks his lips, pressing his head back into the pillows more, eyes closed and mouth parted as he revels in the attention. Joonmyun worships him, and it’s perfect. He doesn’t want to be anywhere but here. Joonmyun’s mouth travels down slightly, along his throat, over his pulse, and his skin prickles and burns like Joonmyun’s lips are made of pure fire. Everywhere they touch, the skin heats and Zitao feels like his blood is racing to that spot at dizzying speeds, leaving him lightheaded by the time Joonmyun’s mouth latches onto the crook of his neck. There’s going to be a mark and that’s exactly what Zitao wants. He wants the world to know that he is Joonmyun’s, that he belongs to him, that nobody else in the entire fucking world could ever make him feel like this.

  Joonmyun’s teeth are a stark contrast against Zitao’s reddening skin as he bites down, mouths over and over, presses and pulls and tugs until the red turns purple and he’s written his name with his native tongue. Zitao writhes softly beneath him and Joonmyun moves to match his mark on the other side, palm splayed against Zitao’s chest to hold him in place; alternating back and forth, he draws a path down either side of Zitao’s throat, until the dark bruises meet in the middle of his clavicle, where the skin dips and Joonmyun’s tongue pools, breath splaying out against goosed skin.

  Joonmyun’s name falls softly from Zitao’s lips as he whines, shoulders pressing into the bed and back arching off the mattress just slightly, flush against Joonmyun’s chest. Joonmyun lets out a quiet groan and the warmth, trailing his mouth down. He litters Zitao’s chest with kisses, through the soft tuft of hair at his chest, down towards a dark nipple, encircling it. He wants to trace Zitao with his mouth and his fingers; engrave his image and his shape into every crevice of his brain until all he knows, all he feels, all he sees is Zitao. Every whine is encouragement, and Joonmyun maps his way down further, along his stomach, tongue dipping into his navel, and slowly lower.

  When the heat of his mouth presses into the crook of his thigh and his hip, Zitao trembles, dropping an arm over his eyes as if to hold himself down. With Joonmyun, lust and need are always rampant, and his body reacts easily to everything his boyfriend does; and Joonmyun is well aware.

  Joonmyun hitches Zitao’s leg over his shoulder and settles down between, slowly dragging his mouth down his inner thigh and towards his knee. Zitao keens softly, toes flexing out and Joonmyun drags the flat of his tongue back up, traces back over his wet trail a third time, and presses his mouth into the soft bend behind his knee. It’s so gentle and yet Zitao feels his chest constricting with affection, head pressing back into the pillow even more, his hands twisting softly in the sheets.

  Time feels like it’s running slower than normal, half speed at most, and Zitao can feel every heartbeat; he’s self-aware of each ragged breath he takes and the fact that it takes Joonmyun twenty eight seconds to kiss his way down to Zitao’s ankle and back up before he finally reaches the warm junction of his thigh and hip. When Joonmyun’s breath hits his arousal, Zitao can’t help the needy gasp that escapes his lips, nor the indulgent moan that slips out when Joonmyun’s lips press to the crown of his cock, slow and affectionate.

  With soft kisses, Joonmyun encircles the head, finally taking him into his mouth. Zitao’s heel presses into the mattress, the other foot hyper-extending from its position in the air. He slides down slowly, hand holding Zitao at the base to keep him steady as he takes him in. Joonmyun’s free hand shifts upwards, searching for Zitao’s heart; when all he can reach is his hand, he settles for that. Their fingers lace and squeeze together, gentle but firm, a port in the storm raging outside their windows. It’s something for Zitao to ground himself with since Joonmyun’s mouth is driving him crazy.

  Every slow glide of his mouth is hot, up and down Zitao’s shaft with an agonizing pace, until Zitao’s pretty sure he’s going to cry out in desperation. But his words are caught in his throat and his heart is caught in Joonmyun’s hand. “Please, please,” falls from Zitao’s lips, strangled and weak, but Joonmyun pulls off his arousal to shush him playfully, Zitao’s hips arching up and seeking out the heat he’d lost.

  Joonmyun keeps ahold of Zitao’s hand, kissing back down the side of his cock before kissing down his thigh once more and back up, working his way towards Zitao’s chest again. Their eyes meet once Joonmyun’s leveled, legs tangled, and Zitao leans upwards to kiss away the taste of himself. Each press is growingly desperate, needy, and Zitao pushes carefully to roll them over until it’s Joonmyun sprawled against the sheets; Zitao pawing at his chest; Joonmyun roaming small hands across everything he can reach.

  They dance in the sheets like this for what feels like forever, but Zitao loves it. His and Joonmyun’s relationship never feels one-sided or transactional. There’s never one person getting more attention than the other and neither is ever left unpleased. As he settles down against Joonmyun’s waist, lips red and kiss abused, bruises dark against his skin, Joonmyun burns the image into his mind forever. Zitao’s silhouette against the moonlight finally slipping into their room and the way his sharp eyes burn even in the darkness. There is no jobs, no responsibilities, only Zitao.

  Zitao leaves him only for a moment before he’s back with a small bottle, pressing it into Joonmyun’s hand once he’s tugged off his sweats and settling back down against his waist. He takes Joonmyun’s hand and drops his soft, sinful mouth over two fingers, wetting them with slow flicks of his tongue and wet drags of his mouth before releasing him. Joonmyun wastes no time in wetting them just a bit more before hooking his clean hand around Zitao’s neck and pulling him into a kiss as he encircles his entrance with the other. His tongue slides slowly into Zitao’s mouth whilst his finger presses past the tight ring with care. He never wants to hurt Zitao.

  With a slow groan, Zitao presses back towards Joonmyun’s hand, kissing him thoroughly and twisting a hand into his lover’s hair. It’s enough, like this, for him. If he could spend the rest of his life just like this, he’d never need anything else. He rocks back against his hand again, and Joonmyun pushes in a second, a third, always careful, always thorough. When it’s finally enough, Zitao bites at Joonmyun’s bottom lip and pulls back slowly. Joonmyun finds his eyes again, reads everything there, and smiles slow as Zitao releases him. He pulls his hand from inside and Zitao whines softly at the loss.

  “Baobei…” he whispers first, and Zitao raises a brow, peering at him through a curtain of blonde bangs. Joonmyun smiles and brings his clean hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing across the apple of it. “I love you…”

  Zitao says nothing for a moment, but his expression says everything. A gentle smile spreads across his lips and even in the dark, his eyes shine with affection, and Joonmyun can feel the heat working its way to his ears. “I love you more, Joonmyun…” He blinks when Joonmyun laughs, clearly confused, but Joonmyun leans up just enough to seal a tender kiss, noses bumping.

  “Impossible,” Joonmyun states lightly. Zitao rolls his eyes, but his heart flutters with adoration and he shuts up Joonmyun’s snickering with slow, insistent kisses. Eventually Joonmyun quiets and they’re back to where they were, mouths twisting and melting and pressing as Zitao gropes for the bottle and wets his hand. Reaching down, he prepares Joonmyun, swallowing every soft noise he makes. Once he’s slick enough, Zitao sits up on his knees and repositions himself, Joonmyun’s hands coming to rest against his hips. They pause like this and Joonmyun admires Zitao, thumbs worrying softly into the dip of his hips. It’s a beautiful moment, the rain still heavy against the pane and no words between them, only the unintelligent groans as Zitao slides down atop his arousal, slow and careful.

  When Joonmyun’s fully sheathed, Zitao adjusts, eyes fluttering with every slight movement. He craves nothing more than this; nobody could ever fill him up so perfectly like Joonmyun does. Despite the animalistic instinct to move, to thrust, to take, Joonmyun stays as still as he can, swallowing hard because Zitao is so tight around him, always so tight, and it’s almost fucking unbearable. But Zitao has the reigns here and Joonmyun respects that.

  It doesn’t take long for Zitao to start moving, and when he does, it’s blissful. They’re slow and purposeful, every drop of Zitao’s hips making Joonmyun’s breath stutter to a stop. This is all they need. Joonmyun lets one hand help guide Zitao as he rides him slowly, hips lifting to meet him, eyes lidded and other hand twisting into his blonde hair to hold him close. Their foreheads meet and they breathe into each other, the lust, the sensation, the need for each other, and it’s an unrivaled connection that goes far beyond sex into the range of souls and hearts and basic necessities for life. Zitao breathes out his heart and Joonmyun breathes in him and together they are something more than just two lovers.

  Zitao’s hand lifts to find Joonmyun’s wrist, guides the brunette’s hand from his hair and presses their palms together, fingers entwining tightly. Their hands fall to the pillow beside Joonmyun’s head, and Zitao’s gaze burns straight into Joonmyun’s every time their hips meet. Joonmyun’s pretty sure the answer to anything in life is in Zitao’s eyes as well as his lips.

  Time is meaningless to them and Joonmyun could really care less what time it is, how long they’ve been touching and tasting and needing, because this is a vacation and they should enjoy it. And he’s certainly enjoying it; every slow thrust into Zitao’s heat is agonizing and yet so, so perfect. Soft whines, needy groans escape Zitao’s lips and Joonmyun sits up to roll them over, pressing Zitao down into the mattress with a particularly heavy thrust, bottoming out. Zitao writhes, arching up into him and hooking his legs on Joonmyun’s waist, mouth open in a noiseless moan.

  Joonmyun wants to take care of him, wants to please him, wants to make him feel so, so good, like he makes Joonmyun feel. He takes Zitao by the hip with his free hand, his other never leaving Zitao’s own, and pulls him in to meet every thrust. Each push has Zitao sliding up against the cheap pillows, his throat bared as he throws his head back and tells the world how he feels. Zitao is oh so beautiful like this, bent and arched and wanting; needing. Wanting Joonmyun. Needing Joonmyun. And Joonmyun has so much to give.

  “Hyung, please…” Zitao’s voice comes out in a broken whisper, desperate, and Joonmyun can tell he’s close, how bad he needs it. Joonmyun swallows his words and his noises with thick, pressing kisses, before he lets go of Zitao’s hip. Using his own hips, he pins the other in the right angle and ruts against him, hand curling around his cock to pump in time. The cries from Zitao’s mouth are instant and loud, especially as the head of Joonmyun’s cock assaults the sensitive bundle of nerves within.

  “P-please…please…” The words soon dissolve into garbled nonsense, mixing with Joonmyun’s sweet nothings as he presses their foreheads together, working hard to get his lover off, to make Zitao see stars. He wants him to overflow with need, with pleasure, with all of his stress and all of his worry until there’s nothing but Zitao and nothing but Joonmyun, working as one.

  Zitao feels like he’s going to go insane at this rate; the stimulation is almost too much, almost unbearable. He’s higher than he’s ever been and his brain is filled with nothing but static and JoonmyunJoonmyunJoonmyun. His edge is near and he grips Joonmyun’s hand hard, eyes rolling shut. Joonmyun’s hips grow more insistent, more intentional, rutting relentlessly against his prostate until Zitao can’t hardly take it anymore.

  “Baobei, look at me while you come,” he whispers, hard and fast against Zitao’s lips, and the blonde barely has enough time to open his eyes, meeting Joonmyun’s blown pupils with his own as he comes hard and fast in Joonmyun’s hand, spilling over, painting their stomachs.

  Joonmyun feels like Zitao comes in slow motion, because he takes in every single detail. The blonde bangs plastered against his forehead, the way his pupils blow and contract. The way his adam’s apple strains against the skin of his bruised throat as he arches his head back as far as it can reach. The way his skin gooses and his nipples harden and his toes curl and his thighs tense around Joonmyun’s waist. He takes in the way his release feels, hot and thick against his palm, the way it slides between them when he thrusts in again and again, riding out Zitao’s orgasm and painting his insides with his own, a union of hearts and bodies and souls and minds.

  Their bodies slow, and Joonmyun starts to slowly pull out, though Zitao’s quick to whimper, shaking his head and locking Joonmyun in with his ankles. Joonmyun gives a soft laugh and stays, though he carefully readjusts to take the strain off Zitao’s lower back. As they settle down against the sheets, sated and breaths heavy, Joonmyun burrows in against Zitao’s bruised neck and takes in the scent of soap and sweat and sex.

  The silence is calm and sweet and the troubles of their day are behind them. Zitao’s breathing evens out and his heart eventually stops racing, beating in time to Joonmyun’s. The rain softens outside and after a while, stops completely. When Joonmyun finally pulls himself from Zitao’s embrace, the other has fallen asleep, small and vulnerable and perfect. Joonmyun hovers over him, brushing soft feather kisses up his chest, along his throat, over his cheeks and jaw, not wanting to wake him, but not wanting to stop touching him either. The blonde stirs but manages to stay asleep, and Joonmyun smiles softly against his cheek before pulling away completely.

  He climbs from the bed and returns with a warm washcloth, cleaning them both up, and tossing it towards the lost towel. Joonmyun climbs back into the bed and as if drawn to him like a magnet, Zitao immediately seeks him out to curl around him, entangling their legs and burrowing his nose against Joonmyun’s throat. They can stay like this. Joonmyun can sleep like this. This is perfect.

  He’s pretty sure that the answer to everything in life is in Zitao. All of Zitao.

[venuma-blog]

domestication (wip)

as the movie starts to come to a close, and the credits slowly start to roll, kyungsoo yawns, enjoying his place curled against yixing's thin, but sturdy frame. the couch is soft and comfortable, warm beneath them. he glances upwards, unable to help but smile slightly at the way yixing's head has lolled to the side, lips parted in quiet, slow breathing, and tired eyes closed to the world.

friday nights are always movie night, and yixing almost always falls asleep on movie night (except that one time he forced kyungsoo to sit through a step up marathon). kyungsoo doesn't mind though, thinks it's a little endearing even. yixing is always so eager to please, so eager to spend time with kyungsoo, and yet his job at the university certainly drains him, grading papers well into the early hours of most mornings.

kyungsoo shifts slightly, carefully, not wanting to wake the other just yet, and settles down against his chest, reaching up to gently trail his fingers through yixing's soft, fluffy, air dried hair, still slightly damp from their shower. he'd come home so tired, and kyungsoo'd taken a break from writing his script to assure him that they could skip movie night, but yixing had been adamant.

moving upwards, he leans in to brush his lips gingerly against yixing's fingers still in his hair, noses bumping softly. the other stirs slightly, rousing a bit with a confused noise, eyes cracking a bit. once he understands the situation fully, or at least enough to kiss back, kyungsoo pulls back with a quiet chuckle.

"did i fall asleep again..? i'm sorry.." yixing gives a sheepish smile and kyungsoo shakes his head, quiet, and finds the other's hand to lace with.

"it's alright, really...do you want to go to bed?" kyungsoo murmurs quietly, his other hand still carding gently through his lover's hair, carefully combing it into place. yixing makes a content noise, and shakes his head.

"not yet...this is nice," he smiles, warm and inviting, and kyungsoo hates how easy it is to fall for it, because he leans in without thinking and steals a second kiss. this time, yixing's completely awake, and his free arm wraps strong and warm around kyungsoo's waist. kyungsoo settles more comfortably, and the kiss stays lazy and warm. it's romantic and so perfect, so simple, and kyungsoo can feel the urge to write about it pooling in his fingertips.

yixing is his inspiration.

softly, both hands move upwards to up at yixing's cheeks, and kyungsoo presses more, slow at first, but gradually more insistent, until yixing's reciprocating, and tongues are pressing together, and kyungsoo wants to fall in love, fall right into yixing's heart.

[venuma-blog]

swallow me whole

(mature content)

yixing's got pretty eyes but chanyeol likes them better when they're squeezed shut, tears pooling at the corners, and he's ramming his cock into his throat, a hand twisted in his dark hair. sure, he's got sinful hips, and he's great in bed, but when they've got fifteen minutes between recordings and chanyeol's got a raging hard on from watching yixing run his part over and over, fucking is little more than a fantasy. "shhh, shh, seriously, hyung, they'll hear," chanyeol pants weakly, one hand propping himself up on the supply closet shelving, standing on the corner of yixing's stage jacket, of which is currently shoved down and tangled around his arms, leaving him helpless and at his mercy. though he tells him to be quiet, he doesn't want him to at all, loving the disgusting, wet noises that fill the air, close to release and ready to spill his load all over the back of his throat. yixing likes it on his face, but the makeup artists would know, then yixing would get in trouble again, they'd already gotten a long scolding about how 'we realize you guys are lonely but don't masturbate back stage! control yourselves!' chanyeol'd love to see the look on their faces when they realized it wasn't that yixing was touching himself, but rather that chanyeol had his cock buried in his mouth down to the hilt, yixing's nose pressed to the curls against his abdomen. he paints the back of yixing's throat without much warning, and yixing's eyes snap open, a loud whine when he realizes what chanyeol's done, gagging hard around him. chanyeol pulls out slowly and yixing gasps for air, swallowing, a hand coming to wipe at the mess on his face. "chanyeol...i told you to --" "hyung, don't you care when you get scolded?" chanyeol laughs, panting, still breathless as he tries to tuck himself away, quickly pulling yixing up. yixing stares at him, eyes lidded, and if it wasn't for the fact that his pants were tented and his face was flushed, chanyeol would barely be able to tell he'd just fucked that pretty mouth. he shakes his head and chanyeol has to control his loud laughter, pushing a hand down into his pants to return the favor before someone comes looking.

[venuma-blog]

lux

The subway jerks and stutters along the tracks, racing at speeds that probably aren't the safest, and Zitao's eyes, sharp and smudged with worn khol, watch the blonde across from him. Sehun's head bobs slightly against the window with the motion of the cart, a bit of drool pooling at the corner of his lips, hairspray starting to flake and hair no where near as impeccable as it had been somewhere around ten o' clock.

Zitao lazily checks his phone; it's 4:37 in the morning and he has barely 13% battery left. His mouth tastes like cotton, dry and filled with the lingering stale taste of beer and someone else's mouth. He shifts a little in his little bucket seat, uncomfortable, pants too tight and his fitted tee covered in too many spilled spirits to be considered clean anymore. The flourescents burn too harshly, as if punishing him for being awake at such an ungodly hour, and for a minute, he deeply loathes the sleeping shit across from him. When the train takes a sharp turn and Sehun smacks his head hard into the window, however, he decides to let it go.

"Fuck..." Sehun groans, reaching up to rub at his forehead first before wiping at his drool, turning bloodshot eyes towards Zitao. "...Why're you sitting over there," he continues to mumble, sleepily rubbing at his face. Zitao wrinkles his nose slightly.

"You started to drool on my shoulder. It was gross," he shrugs nonchalantly, turning his nose upwards from the blonde. Sehun snorts a little, dragging himself from the chair, a little wobbly on his feet, and stumbling across to Zitao's side of the train. A bum six seats down snores a little and shifts in his sleep.

Sehun plops down in the seat beside Zitao, yawning and slumping down again, dropping his head onto Zitao's shoulder. The redhead bristles slightly, shoving with his shoulder, but only once, and Sehun stays, asleep in no time. They continue on in silence, with the backtrack of screeching metal on metal, and Zitao supposes this is enough.

[venuma-blog]

good good morning

the sunlight spills through the white curtains and fills the room with a soft glow, the air warm and comfortable. zitao whines ever so slightly and twists to press his face into the pillow, dragging the blanket up. no. no sun, no morning, no being awake.

"goodmorning," minseok calls, amused as he leans against the frame of the door, already dressed, the scent of coffee lingering around him like some sort of comforting aura.

no goodmorning! no coffee! no minseok -- okay, maybe a little minseok.

blinking blearily, zitao twists to peek over the edge of the blankets, hair sticking up every which way and nose wrinkling.

"too early."

"it's almost noon, zitao," minseok laughs.

"almost. so there's still time left." with that, zitao burrows childishly back into the blankets. "turn the sun off."

"it doesn't work that way." moving in, minseok heads towards the bed and reaches beneath the blankets, grabbing zitao's ankle and dragging him out with surprising strength. zitao screeches like a banshee and claws at the sheets. "no! no! i'm sleeping!"

"you're gonna be late for class!"

"fuck class!"

"watch your mouth!" minseok laughs, swatting at the exposed butt as zitao worms his way back towards the middle of the bed with a loud whine. rolling his eyes, minseok swiftly climbs onto the bed, wrestling zitao into a headlock and sweetly pecking his forehead despite all the smacking and wriggling from the bigger boy. "good morning," minseok repeats.

zitao tries to bite minseok's arm, earning a wap on the nose immediately like some sort of dog.

"let me sleep til noon!" zitao whines again, slumping in defeat. minseok glances at his watch before laughing, letting the other go.

"fine. noon. but then you have to get up, okay?"

"okay. i promise."

"mm." minseok sits on the edge of the bed as zitao yanks the blankets up and cocoons into them protectively, glaring at minseok for a moment before shutting his eyes.

it's 11:58, but minseok'll humor zitao for now.

[venuma-blog]

give me a hand

The sun beats down hot and harsh against the asphalt, burning into Yifan's skin. The sweat beads at his hairline and rolls uncomfortably down his back between the fabric of his tanktop where the gunbag slung over his shoulder is rubbing raw. The way his tongue feels like rough sand in his own mouth has him swallowing hard, brow furrowing, the permanent lines on his forehead only etching more into the layer of dirt on his darkly tanned skin.

They've been walking the road longer than he can remember, several hours at least. He didn't want to pull Sehun and Jongin from their restless sleep as the sun started to rise, but the walkers were always more sluggish at daybreak, and they couldn't waste the opportunity to distance themselves from their latest downfall. A bloodbath in Goyang was all that greeted them, and there'd been way too many close calls for Yifan's liking.

He tries not to think about the empty sleeve flapping against his shoulder.

A quiet pair of footsteps fall into place beside him and he turns his head downwards curiously, though says nothing as Joonmyun keeps his head forward, eyes trained on the road and hands clasped tight around the rifle against his chest.

"How're you feeling?" His voice comes out quiet and worn after a few minutes, and Yifan offers a weak smile.

"Not bad...Think you could give me a hand with these guns?" Yifan tries his best to joke about the situation in general, and despite the seriousness in his request, Joonmyun tries not to laugh, amusement evident as he shakes his head.

"You're unstoppable..." he mutters, and they come to a stop briefly for Joonmyun to reach up and work the gun bag off the other's long torso, careful of his tender flesh. Jongin and Sehun, who'd been trailing behind, whispering and giggling between each other like children, approach, concern in their expressions.

"Everything okay..?" Sehun asks quietly, and Jongin reaches out wordlessly to take the bag from Joonmyun and sling it over his own shoulder, adjusting the strap. Yifan nods, reaching out with his good hand to ruffle Sehun's dirty, once silver (now stained a deep hue of copper from dirt and blood alike) hair. Sehun wrinkles his nose childishly, jerking away and smoothing it back down.

"Yeah...arms were just getting tired." Yifan still hasn't quite remembered to drop the 's' yet.

"We shouldn't dilly dally too long," Joonmyun speaks again, voice gentle as he rubs Jongin's shoulder in silent thanks. "We need to get to Bucheon before Tao and Jongdae. Clear them out a path, right?"

The mention of their estranged party members pulls in a somber silence between all of them, though the determination swirls in their eyes, especial Sehun and Jongin's, and without another word, the group starts to walk again.

Yifan reaches up with his good hand and wipes the sweat from his brow before it could reach his eyes. With dirt smeared on his knuckles, he grips his knife a little tighter and takes a deep breath.

His throat still burns.

[venuma-blog]

not so convenient store

(mature content; character death)

Zitao can still hear Luhan's screams when he jumped into Zitao's blind spot and blocked the biter's incoming jaw with his shoulder. He can see black, rotted teeth sink into Luhan's flesh like butter, the sickening wet sound of muscle tearing louder than the rain could ever be.

Jongdae slides into place quietly beside the other, cheeks marred with dirt and dried blood, giving him a terrifyingly haunting image. He slides out of Kris' jacket, much too big for him, and softly drapes it over Zitao's shoulder's, his arm lingering and hand tenderly gripping Zitao's bicep in an attempt at comfort.

Zitao's got a lost look in his eyes that hasn't left since Daejeon. His once plump cheeks are sunken in with hunger, and the bags beneath his eyes are thicker and darker than ever. It pains Jongdae to see what used to be so youthful and full of life, so broken and destroyed by a world decaying.

"We can't move while it's pouring like this...I'll take watch and you can sleep," Jongdae murmurs quietly, dropping his arm from the other to pick up the machete beside him and carefully crawls towards the edge of the nook they've burrowed into. Zitao watches him with painfully empty eyes. He can't sleep -- he can hear Luhan better in his sleep.

When it becomes clear that Zitao isn't going to sleep, Jongdae looks back at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile that somehow has stayed in place despite the world going to shit around them. He looks like Jongdae has always looked to Zitao, inviting, kind, gentle. Maybe just a little dirty and scuffed up. But Zitao knows beneath those baggy clothes are the harsh outline of ribs and signs of hunger; a mutilated patch of skin on his shoulder from the bullets of the bandits their group ran into back in Busan.

"The others have to be close...Kris' note said Bucheon...We can't be far now." There's determination in Jongdae's voice that never leaves, and Zitao clings to it so tightly that for a moment, Luhan's muffled in his mind, and all he hears is a heavy buzz and the crash of rain. Zitao nods, weakly, and drops his gaze to the ground. There's the sound of scooting along the dirt, and soon Jongdae's warmth is at his side again. His thin hand slides up into Zitao's hair and pulls him down into the shoulder without a story and holds him there, patting tenderly.

Jongdae says nothing and Zitao slumps into him, eyes stinging with tears. They've been alone for weeks now, but at least Zitao has Jongdae. In Jongdae's embrace, he can pretend things aren't so scary or empty or broken. The older boy places a soft kiss to Zitao's dirty hair, closing his eyes slightly, but never all the way, and as the rain falls harder, they huddle together, two broken souls trapped in a convenience store.

Zitao almost believes Jongdae's words.

[venuma-blog]

pour some sugar on me

wip pt. 4

When Joonmyun wakes, the room is cold and empty and there's a stale aftertaste in his mouth. It reminds him of a soured version of what Tao'd tasted like the night before and the thought brings back the images of his endeavors with a rushing force that has him immediately rolling over to retch into the wastebin beside the bed. Maybe it's a good thing Tao didn't stay, because that was decidedly unattractive. Once his stomach is empty, Joonmyun drags himself to a sitting position and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He can feel the beginning of a migraine and there's an ache in his thighs from tensing up so forcibly last night. Dragging himself from the bed, he glances at the clock, grimacing. He's late for work, and as somebody who's almost always punctual, it makes his stomach pit even further. With no time for a shower or to run home for a change of clothes, he tugs on his rumpled clothes from the floor of the bathroom, tries to comb his hair into place, and smears a handful of water over top in lieu of gel before stepping into his shoes and heading downstairs to check out. Hailing a cab, he stops on Fifth Ave before he reaches the office, purchases the first suit out of a window, and changes the second he gets to his office. Yifan makes his way into Joonmyun's office shortly after, a knowing smirk on his lips and much more put together than himself. "Unless you have a triple shot of espresso, don't you dare talk to me," Joonmyun grumbles, fiddling with the buttons of his blazer, hunched grumpily over his desk. Yifan laughs, moving in to reach out and help him, though his big hands fumble as much as Joonmyun was. Eventually, he gets it buttoned. Yifan sniffs obnoxiously at the air. "You smell like...Sex." "I do not," Joonmyun chokes, pushing Yifan's face away. "Get your wriggling caterpillars out of my face." If Yifan's offended, he doesn't show it, instead reaching to yank the tag off Joonmyun's armpit. "So I guess you followed my advice then." The cheeriness in his voice is irritating and Joonmyun shoots him a glare. "I thought I said don't talk to me without espresso." "Jongdae'll be back with it any minute," Yifan shrugs. Joonmyun continues to glare but saunters off towards the mirror on his wall instead, trying to smooth down his hair. "I've got some hairspray in my desk," Yifan offers. "Why am I not surprised," Joonmyun sighs, deeming his hair untameable and instead trying to do that "fashionably messy" thing that Baekhyun always does. Yifan's snorts from behind him tell him he's not pulling it off too well. The door to his office opens after a brief knock, and Jongdae, Joonmyun's intern, slips inside with a drink tray in one hand and a folder tucked under his arm in the other, and also the tiniest skin tight pants Joonmyun's ever seen. Blinking slightly, the brunette moves to meet him at the desk, taking the coffee gratefully and the folder curiosly, glancing over the title. PARK INDUSTRIES. Huh. "Did you get lost along the way?" Yifan teases Jongdae, a charming grin on his lips and head tilted a bit as he tries to subtly glance down at the other's legs. Jongdae grins back, lips curled up at the corners and cheekbones that could cut glass. "I was hoping your coffee would be cold by the time I came back," he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm despite his pleasant tone. "I asked for extra ice cubes just to be sure this time. Wouldn't want you to burn yourself, sir." Yifan pouts slightly. "Harsh." "Only looking out for you, sir~." Joonmyun grimaces, swatting the folder between them. "Okay, that's enough, you can leave now, Jongdae. Ask Baekhyun to process the day's schedule and bring it to me on your way, please." "Yes sir," Jongdae laughs, turning to leave. Once he's gone, Joonmyun moves to plop into his chair and card open the folder he'd brought. "I'm going to change the dress policy," he mutters under his breath. "You better not if you want to live," Yifan immediately retorts, moving to take a large gulp of his 'iced coffee' only to burn himself, sputtering and drop the cup on the edge of Joonmyun's desk, the scalding contents splattering all over the floor. "That little shit!" Joonmyun closes his eyes, pressing his fingers into his temples, and reaches over to page Baekhyun for a mop and rag. --- The days start to blur together as Joonmyun struggles between pretending he and Tao didn't happen (despite Tao's almost daily texts; he doesn't respond to any of them; they stop after a week.) and finding a strange ache in his chest that he starts to akin to stress. He stays late nights in the office, sending his employees home even if he himself doesn't quite feel like leaving just yet, reading and re-reading the new PARK INDUSTRIES deal. It's one of the biggest investments his company has yet to handle. Park Chanyeol is a household name not only in Seoul, but around the world, as one of the most influential music labels worldwide, working hand in hand with EMI and Universal Studios to produce international artists that take the world by storm. He also happens to be in the world's Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors, with great looks, a bright personality, and a 1000-watt smile; he makes ladies swoon from every continent.  It seems PARK INDUSTRIES is interested in expanding their territory, aiming to merge with a Chinese record label in hopes of bridging both a peaceful bond between Korea and China as well as jumping into the vast market that is Chinese Pop. Park Chanyeol's come to X&O (the stupid name was definitely Yifan's idea, but Joonmyun had nothing better to top it) in hopes that they could harness a chunk of his vastly amassed wealth, as well as the new Chinese label's, and offer a monetary incentive for the merger.  Joonmyun's read over the paperwork enough times to recite it by heart with his eyes closed, and as the night drags on, he loses himself to his windows again, staring out across the cityscape. The lights begin to burn into his irises, and his heart wrenches in confusion. No matter how much he tries to drown in work, everything comes back to Tao, and the guilt and turmoil rots in his stomach. His eyes begin to burn and he can't even bring himself to catch a cab home, instead folding his papers shut and pushing away from the desk silently. He makes his way over to the couch near the windows and falls onto it half-heartedly, draping his blazer over himself as a psuedo blanket. He falls asleep sometime after the city lights begin to resemble Tao's sharp eyes. --- "...Mr. Kim." Joonmyun groans slightly, twisting his face to try to hide in the back of the couch from the light threatening to invade his eyelids. "Mr. Kim." What in the world is that noise? "Mr. Kim!" Joonmyun's suddenly assaulted by a couch pillow, and he's twisting to shield himself, squawking indignantly and flailing wildly on the couch. He nearly falls right off the edge, and Baekhyun's quick to step back in mild disgust, saving his shoes from being squashed.  "Sir, did you sleep here last night? You look like a crumpled mess, and you have a meeting in fifteen minutes." He sounds mildly exasperated, and Joonmyun gives him a guilty smile, laughing nervously, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Baekhyun clicks his tongue irritably, turning to stomp off haughtily. "I'll get you something to wear, but please do something about your hair, sir," follows him out the door. Joonmyun sheepishly climbs to his feet and tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It's ridiculous, and eventually he calls for Jongdae to grab the hairspray from Yifan's office. --- "I can't believe you fit in those," Yifan comments, mildly amused as he stands beside Joonmyun, crisp and well put together in his stark black suit and red tie, a gold dragon clasp holding it in the middle of his button up perfectly. Joonmyun grimaces and turns his head towards the other side of the elevator. "One more comment, Yifan," he mutters dryly, picking at Jongdae's tight slacks, the back of his neck heated at how visible hiseverything was in the practically painted on fabric. Yifan merely laughs, clapping Joonmyun on the shoulder and they ride on in silence. Mostly. "Just don't get excited," he shoots the last comment out as the doors open and Joonmyun wishes he could shrivel up and die. --- Zitao picks up his phone irritably, thumbing through his email as he sips at a green tea frappe, sunglasses reflecting the Starbucks like a pair of mirrors. An earbud hangs out of one ear and his hair is styled impeccably for someone just spending the day in class.  "Why do you look constipated?" Sehun prods at Zitao verbally from behind his MAXIM magazine, not even bothering to look up. Jongin's practically draped over his shoulder, nose wrinkled as he judges the spread they're checking out. "I do not," Zitao bites back arrogantly, shooting Sehun a glare from behind his reflector aviators, giving a soft 'hmph.'  "You totally do." "I've got some stomach medicine in my backpack," Jongin offers, only half-heartedly looking up from the magazine. "But it'll cost you two sips." "Go buy your own, mooch," Zitao huffs again, reaching over to pull the magazine down from the top. "Her ass is totally fake. Trust me. I'm an expert." Sehun shoots him a glare, yanking the magazine away like Zitao'd just soiled a religious artifact. "Don't you have something better to do than disgrace my ladies?" "No, I don't," Zitao grumbles bitterly, looking back at his phone. Joonmyun has responded to any of his texts, and even though he'd stopped sending them a week ago, Zitao's still rather pressed over it all. Joonmyun was one hell of a prospective daddy; cash, looks, and this awkward innocence that made him mildly endearing. Either he was playing Zitao hard or perhaps Zitao'd scared him away. Either option made Zitao irritated beyond belief. You don't just flush $3k a month down the drain. Sehun snickers quietly, well aware of what's got Zitao's panties (figuratively) all up in a bunch. Zitao kicks him sharply beneath the table, but his aim is off, and he hits Jongin's shin instead. "Ow, what the hell!" Jongin whines, pulling his leg up to nurse the already bruising hairy leg visible from beneath his shorts. Sehun glances down at it only to furrow his brow. "Where are your shoes?" he complains quietly. Jongin blinks up at him like he hadn't heard him correctly. Zitao frowns and leans over the table before sitting back in disgust. "Where are your socks?!" Jongin merely shrugs, pouting at his injury instead, toes wriggling in sympathy for his bruising leg. --- Sixteen days from his date with Tao, Joonmyun caves and pulls his phone from the file cabinent he'd tried to lock it in and texts the blonde haired deviant. It's three in the morning and his eyes are red and the bags beneath them are dark. Are you awake? Almost immediately, his phone beeps in response. who is this?? Joonmyun's heart plummets and he immediately regrets texting, skin prickling and mouth filling with a weird stale taste; the same one as the night in the hotel. Sorry to bother you. Must have the wrong number. He tries to toss his phone onto his desk, but fumbles as it beeps before it leaves his hand entirely.  i was kidding. relax! you had me a little worried~. With a dry mouth, Joonmyun sits down in his desk chair, eyes glued to his phone. I'm sorry. I got really busy with work...Are you busy on Thursday? 'I want to see you,' lingers in the back of his mind, but he steadily ignores it. He doesn't want to sound more desperate than he already does. There's no response for a few minutes, but it comes all the same. i can do thursday lunch. i have class at 4. Lunch works. Lunch is great. I'll see you at Lunch. ;] night. Goodnight. Joonmyun drops his phone on the stack of papers on his desk and hides his face in his arms, slumping in his chair. He feels like he's beginning to lose his sanity. --- Thursday comes sooner than he'd realized, and before he knows it, Joonmyun's nervously tapping his fingers on the table cloth of the quaint little cafe Tao'd picked out. Glancing at his watch for the seventh time in the past ten minutes, he takes another gulp of water. It's five minutes til two, and Joonmyun's starting to let his brain get the better of him, convinced Tao isn't going to show up.  Despite his paranoia, the blonde slides into his place across from him at exactly 2:01 with a pleasant smile and a cashmere scarf tied neatly around his neck, tucked into a jacket that Joonmyun's pretty sure he bought the other.  "Sorry I'm late," comes that thick accent and it hits Joonmyun like a truck, heart aching again. The stress from work is really getting to him, obviously. Nonconspicuously reaching up, he rubs idly at his chest to soothe the ache and shakes his head, beaming. "It's okay. Really." "Let's eat. I'm starving," Tao laughs gently. Joonmyun nods hurriedly, trying to appear comfortable and dropping a hand to rest on the table as the other flips through his menu. At some point in the silence between them, a soft touch to his hand nearly makes him jump, and Joonmyun glances up nervously. Tao's hand quietly slides into place over his, naturally, and he doesn't even lift his eyes from the menu, though there's a small smirk on his lips.  Joonmyun licks his lips and tries to calm himself, not saying anything and trying his best to focus on the menu. Once their food arrives, Tao finally pulls his hand back and Joonmyun can think just that little bit more clearly. Tao's forking a bit more salad when Joonmyun lets his fork clatter to his plate. The blonde looks up at Joonmyun, blinking in slight surprise, and Joonmyun thinks he might be lost in those sharp eyes again. "Six thousand," he states suddenly. Tao raises a brow, clearly not following what Joonmyun said, and the brunette wonders if his pronounciation made it hard to understand. "Six th-ousa-," he starts, slower. "I understood you," Tao snorts slightly, setting his fork down. "Six thousand, what?" "Six thousand dollars." Joonmyun clears his throat a little and looks out the window shyly. "I want to give you six thousand, instead of three." Tao raises both brows this time, a slow grin overtaking his lips. "Why? Was I that good?" he teases and Joonmyun turns redder than the cherry tomatoes on Tao's plate, much to the other's amusement (his giggles sound like windchimes to Joonmyun. They cut through all of the restaurant's idle chatter.).  "It's not because of that," he mutters sheepishly, rubbing at his cheek slightly. "I just think you deserve more than three." There's a silence that hangs in the air between them before Tao hums, pleased, and reaches over to take both of Joonmyun's hands. The brunette swallows, glancing around nervously. He feels like the entire cafe is watching them even though not a single person is paying them even the slightest bit of attention. "Okay, daddy~. I certainly won't say no," Tao purrs out lowly, just for Joonmyun to hear. Joonmyun gurgles slightly at that, turning redder if possible. Tao goes back to his salad, grinning ear to ear, and Joonmyun finds it hard to eat if only because he can't tear his eyes from Tao's face. --- "...What are you doing?" Sehun grumbles slightly in confusion at the clothes littering their living room floor. There's piles and mis-matched coordinates and way too many shoes. Sehun spots a nice pair of Jordans and silently snatches them, stuffing them in the couch cushion to retrieve for himself later. Zitao won't even notice. "Trying to find something to wear," Zitao sighs, holding up a long leather and wool jacket against himself in front of the shabby four foot mirror he's leaned against the wall. Turning around, he tilts his head, inquiring Sehun's opinion. "Too girly." Zitao glares and tosses the jacket away regardless, moving to pick through sweaters. Sehun picks it up to also take to his room. He lied.  "You should wear the ivory one. Cum stains won't be as noticable when you leave," Sehun beams at the other, as if he's truly helping. Surprisingly, Zitao seems to consider this. "You're right. It looks good on my skintone, anyways." With a shrug, Sehun grabs his stolen treasure and hurries off to his room to stuff the items into his closet. --- Things become easier over the next couple weeks, and by the start of the third one, Tao and Joonmyun are texting regularly. It actually begins to annoy Yifan, and during one of their consolations with the payroll department, he reaches over and pockets the phone for the rest of the meeting, much to Joonmyun's disappointment.  By the time they're finished and the employees are dismissed, Joonmyun digs into Yifan's pocket for his phone, hurriedly checking his text messages. Yifan rolls his eyes, laughing. "You're worse than a highschool girl with a crush," he bemuses, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Joonmyun waves him off and responds to Tao's newest message. "He says he needs some money for a pair of shoes he really wanted," Joonmyun meanders in his chair as well, switching to his bank app to wire the blonde some money. "My wife says that too. She comes home with a lot more than a pair of shoes," Yifan grumbles, picking up a pen to doodle idly on a post-it note. "Who needs that many shoes? Who. She has enough shoes to single-handedly cover the feet of every homeless bum in New York City." Yifan scribbles his rhino out angrily. "Did you say something?" Joonmyun wasn't listening, sending the money and happily switching back to his text messages. Yifan just stares at him, blankly. "She says that too." "Says what?" Joonmyun actually looks up this time, sparing Yifan a few moments of his time. Yifan's mouth slacks to the side slightly before he's stretching and standing up. "The Spring party's coming up. You should bring your boy toy." Joonmyun immediately pales at the statement and sets his phone down, looking away. Yifan sighs, moving to sit on the table beside Joonmyun's chair, peering down at him. "Look, you can't hide in the closet forever, Joonmyun. I mean...Listen to me, I'm your best friend. We're in New York, okay? This is the last place you're gonna get judged." Yifan reaches down to place a large hand on the brunette's shoulder. Joonmyun swallows a bit. "It's not that easy, okay? What if some of our clients are homophobic? Or I mean, what if it hits the papers, and then our name gets tarnished -- there's just a lot of stuff we've worked for to just throw away over some dumb party, okay," Joonmyun rambles, fingers drumming nervously on the table. His phone buzzes with a new message and he instinctively reaches for it. Yifan covers it briefly with his hand. "Hey...Listen to me," his voice softens, resorting back to that best friend tone they'd used in college before money turned them into corporate giants. Joonmyun glances up, frowning gently. "Nobody's gonna care. I promise you. You're being silly. Just consider it, okay? I'm tired of you awkwardly bumming around alone. That's worse for our image than you having a thing for guys." Joonmyun doesn't say anything at first, but slowly he nods, and soon he's letting out a sigh. "Okay. I'll think about taking him." Yifan, pleased, uncovers Joonmyun's phone and pats the older man's head. "Good," he slides from the table, straightening his tie. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have interns to check up on." With a greasy grin, he salutes Joonmyun and departs. Joonmyun waves him off, too weary to try to save Jongdae today, instead picking up his phone to open Zitao's message. thank you so much daddy!! <3 you have no idea how happy this made me~. Joonmyun smiles quietly to himself and turns to peer out the window.

[venuma-blog]

cherry red

(mature content)

When the scent of fresh apple pie hits Joonmyun the second he opens the door to his apartment, he immediately sniffs the air for the underlying scent of smoke, because Zitao definitely can't cook, and if he's near the stove, things will go bad fast. "Zitao?" he calls out tentatively as he slips inside, loosening his tie and setting his briefcase down. There's no answer at first, and that worries Joonmyun, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt and crouches down to untie his dress shoes. "Welcome home," comes Zitao's trademark accented drawl from the kitchen after a moment, and Joonmyun relaxes a little. Getting both his shoes off, he follows his nose towards the kitchen. "Are you...baking?" he questions as he nears the entrance, and Zitao's laugh is heavy from within. "Minseok hyung made it; all I have to do is pull it out of the oven." "Oh, well, in that case, tell him --" Joonmyun slips into the kitchen, expecting to see the other sitting in front of his laptop in his pajamas, typing away at another late essay, but instead his voice dies off in his throat. Zitao's laptop is nowhere to be found, the table set for two. The timer for the pie begins to buzz, filling the sudden blankness in Joonmyun's head as Zitao reaches to silence it, an innocent smile on his lips.  Joonmyun can't be sure he's awake, and for a moment he forgets to breathe. The click of Zitao's heels as he moves towards the oven brings him back to reality, and he instinctively tilts his head once the other's bending over to pull out the pie with his oven mitts, admiring those long dark legs that never seem to end and disappear beneath a dark blue dress that flits against his strong thighs.  "Is it my birthday?" Joonmyun manages to question. He's pretty sure his birthday was several months ago, but maybe he's lost track of time. Zitao laughs, loud and dorky, and for a moment, the illusion is ruined, but as he sets the pie on the counter and reaches for a knife, Joonmyun notices the slightly messy bright red manicure, and he's back on track.  "No; why would you think that?" Zitao questions, humming a bit as he slices into the pie, cutting eight equal slices, before setting the knife down and turning towards Joonmyun. "Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit pale." "I'm fine," Joonmyun starts, laughing a little, though it takes quite a bit of strength within him to keep from touching when Zitao purposely brushes past him to grab both plates. No amount of strength, however, can stop him from reaching under that dress to cop a feel of Zitao's ass, earning a girlish squeak from the other as he hurries away as fast as his heels will let him, laughing. Joonmyun grins, big and bright, and pulls out a chair to sit at the table, watching the other and pooling his chin in his palm. "Tell me about your day, yeobo." The brunette uses the knife to put the slices of pie on their respective plates, though it crumbles just a bit. Ignoring it, he grabs a can of whipped cream and piles generous swirls upon both. "I think I'd rather hear about yours, jagiya," Joonmyun counters, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he watches the other swipe a bit of cream off a piece of pie, the finger disappearing between bright cherry red lips. He gives a sharp take of breath, and Zitao's eyes light up with amusement as he slowly slides his finger from within his mouth with a lewd pop.  "It was rather uneventful," he assures the other, smacking the cream within his mouth before swallowing and picking up both plates, swaying his hips as he returns to the table, setting them down. He purposefully leans over Joonmyun as he does, the skirt of his dress brushing the other's thighs. Joonmyun, ever impulsive, quickly sneaks a hand up his skirt, along his thigh, only to earn a playful smack. "I want to touch..." he murmurs with a pout, and Zitao laughs. Joonmyun finds the way it counters his image endearing and his heart swells almost as much as his dick. "After you eat your dessert," Zitao clicks his tongue scoldingly. Joonmyun wrinkles his nose. "Looking like my wife is hot, but don't act like it," he teases, earning a sharp glare from Zitao's lined eyes, which he can't help but laugh at. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'll eat it, okay, okay~." Picking up his fork, Zitao happily moves towards the counter, dress swaying with each movement as he puts away the rest of the pie. Joonmyun sections off the tip of the pie with his fork, almost missing his mouth with how much he's leaning to try to peer up Zitao's dress, only to burn his tongue on it once he actually gets it in his mouth. Quickly swallowing and fanning his mouth, Zitao laughs at him again and moves to place both hands on Joonmyun's knees. "Should I kiss that better?" he whispers, grinning a bit, and the harsh contrast of his pearly whites against those red lips has Joonmyun a bit dizzy, almost forgetting the way his tongue aches; he isn't sure if it's aching from the burn or aching to push down Zitao's throat. "You should," he breathes out, voice almost whiny as his brows knit together. Zitao smells delicious. "Are you gonna tell me what it is you want already..?" "What I want?" Zitao purrs out innocently, a manicured hand reaching up to take Joonmyun by the jaw, tilting his head and pressing into the hinges to make him open his mouth. "What makes you think I want something?" "Because you always want something, Zitao..." Zitao lets out a small giggle and Joonmyun's lost because soon those bright cherry red lips are on his own and everything tastes like fruit and mint and spice and his hands are instinctively shoving up that skirt and taking handfuls of ass with each hand. Zitao sucks Joonmyun's tongue into his mouth and the elder's pretty sure he shudders audibly, toes curling in his socks. Zitao lets his tongue go with a soft, wet pop. "Well, Seoul Fashion Week is next week..." the blonde admits softly, and Joonmyun doesn't even think to roll his eyes because soon Zitao's on his knees and the dress is hiked up slightly and he's both craning his neck to see and oogling the way the other begins to undo his belt. "Really.." He's hardly paying attention to what Zitao's actually asking for, hands trying to busy themselves before Zitao gives him a sharp look that screams, 'eat your pie.' Without a word, he takes another bite, making sure to blow on it this time. "Of course, I'd like to go, but I have no ticket...And nothing to wear," Zitao pouts gently, fluttering those thick, mascara coated lashes up at Joonmyun and the latter feels some semblance of resolve crack deep within. "Yes," is all he says; an answer to every and anything, as long as Zitao just touches him. With a gleeful squeal, Zitao finishes undoing Joonmyun's pants and pulls him out, licking his lips slowly as if taking Joonmyun in as a dessert of his own before leaning up to suck his head into his mouth. Joonmyun hisses wildly, fork clattering to the floor as his hips buckle and he's immediately finding purchase in those blonde, styled locks, trying not to push at his head, but Zitao's lips are stretched around him and leaving long red streaks on his cock and it's dizzying. The younger sucks wildly, with reckless abandon, rewarding Joonmyun for giving him anything he wants in the world, and Joonmyun's struggling to breathe. Zitao could ask him for a spaceship to the moon and Joonmyun'd do everything in his power to provide it at this rate. With his tongue splayed against the bottom of Joonmyun's cock and the room filled with the greedy, wet sounds of slurping, Joonmyun's pretty sure he's in heaven. He makes sure to burn the image into his brain for later jacking material when Zitao holes himself up in the bedroom to hit a due date and neglects him like he tends to. Reaching down, he takes a fistful of the back of the dress, crumpling the fabric, and pulls it upwards, getting a view of thigh-high clad legs, heels, and Zitao's round ass, and it's all it takes for him to cum fast and hard in his boyfriend's mouth, without warning, thrusting to press in hard. His cock rubs up against the back of Zitao's throat, and the boy gags around him, eyes watering, and as the mascara smears just enough, Joonmyun's not so sure he isn't dreaming, because the image is perfect. Pulling out slowly as he pants, Joonmyun lets go of Zitao, letting the other catch his breath through his nose. Before he realizes it, Zitao's whining for his attention again and Joonmyun's slumping forward to tilt his head back up and peer at the blonde. He's at attention in seconds as those red lips are soon covered in white, his release oozing out and running down Zitao's chin.  "Huang Zi--!" Joonmyun hisses out, fingers twisting in his pants as he shivers. With a giggle, Zitao opens his mouth to whisper back in response, the mess dripping off onto his dress at this point. "Yeobo~...You ruined my dress...Now I need a new one..." Joonmyun's pretty sure he can provide that, grabbing him roughly by the hair and kissing him, long and hard, smearing his own spunk between them and devouring his mouth. When he pulls away, Zitao's mouth is a mess of cum and smeared lipstick, eyes dark around the edges where his makeup's began to run. "Can I have my dessert now..." Joonmyun whispers, biting his lip. Zitao rolls his eyes, pleased. "Only if you promise to eat it all~," he responds, walking his fingers sensually up Joonmyun's thigh. "Oh I intend to..." Joonmyun groans, slipping from the chair to push Zitao right down against the kitchen floor, one hand shoving up his dress, and the other pinning those wrists above his head. "Every last bite."

[venuma-blog]

be gentle

(mature content)

zitao whines and keens, cheek beginning to rub raw, red and angry as it slides with force against the sheets, brows knitted as his entire body runs rigid with tension. his neck is beginning to kink and his eyes are pooled at the corners with hot tears, unable to close his mouth as a wet patch of drooled on fabric clings to the edge of his mouth. everything feels intense and overwhelming and he's pretty sure his knees are littered with rug burns where the mattress has torn at them as he slides with each thrust.

his throat is tight and his broken mandarin is thick with accent, lost on minseok's ears as the elder keeps one hand on the back of his neck, pinning him to the bed, and the other wrapped up tightly in zitao's own, their fingers laced. with a particularly rough thrust, zitao squeezes hard. minseok's breaths are heavy and heated against his skin from where plush cheeks are pressed between defined shoulder blades, and zitao never thought he'd be hear like this. but he is and it feels oh so good and fuck if minseok's hips don't move in just the right way.

his whole body hurts but it's an afterthought to how perfect he feels inside, heart racing a mile a minute and free hand clawing at the pillows above him like it's going to ground him; keep him from floating away into blissful oblivion.

just when he feels like he's going to go crazy, the hand on his neck tightens and minseok hits harder, faster, and he's going to cum all over himself at this rate. their movements are erratic, unplanned, wild and animalistic, and zitao cries out loud enough to wake the entire dorm (which isn't uncommon) as his release hits, choking on his screams and messing the bed entirely. minseok follows soon after and as they collapse in a sweaty mess on the bed, zitao shivers, swallowing hard, struggling to catch his breath as his body melts.

minseok doesn't move at first before shifting, leaving soft kisses along his spine, saying nothing, breathing labored. the hand in zitao's never leaves, squeezing tenderly, softly, and zitao feels his heart swell more, knowing that no matter how rough they are with their bodies, minseok is nothing but gentle with zitao's heart.

[venuma-blog]

time

warning: substance abuse

A heavy fog hangs in the air, lingering just above the pavement. It's enough to cover Zitao's shoes and hide his steps, the faint glow of a buzzing bar sign his only beacon in the otherwise dark night. There's a bustle of people despite the late hour, going this way and that, because New York never sleeps. His breath wreaks of alcohol and the cigarette in his fingers is unlit; his eyes are dull and his head stays down.

He makes it to the end of the block and leans against the corner of the pawn shop, shrugging closer into his hoodie like it's going to keep his heat inside. Patting at his jean pockets, he finds his lighter and wriggles it out, lights up, and inhales a few years of his life; they burn going down and sit in his stomach to rot.

Nicotine mixes thickly with the faint taste of gin and tonic at the back of his throat and it makes him a little nauseous. The alcohol and dreams that slosh in his stomach threaten to come back up and he has to grit his teeth, smoke unfurling between them in a mess of white tendrils. Zitao can't even remember why he's here or what he was originally drinking away, but perhaps that's the point and he guess he should pat himself on the back for success.

Somewhere between the end of his cigarette and the halfway mark, he tosses it, letting it sizzle silently on the damp sidewalk, hidden in the mist if not for the faint, glowing embers. Reaching up, he pushes back red bangs, dark at the roots, and rolls his shoulders. It's time to get going, to head home, wherever that is. He's just wasting time standing around empty bars and stores long void of people; even the New York stragglers are starting to look more and more homeless and less and less trustable.

Licking his chapped lips, he turns to hobble off the edge of the sidewalk and into the dark recess of a side street. Towards the end, a streetlamp tries to flicker, giving out a loud buzz that digs into Zitao's senses and begins a weak, pounding headache at the base of his brain, twisting his nerves into a tangled mess.

Three quarters of the way home, between 9th and Jackson, his phone vibrates angrily from his back pocket and he pulls it out to check the message. The screen is bright and harsh but the colors are somehow muted in the mist.

<i>m out of paprs. bring sum home. thx</i>

Without much more than a faint grimace, Zitao pockets his phone and makes a stop at 7/11 on his way home. With a Big Gulp, some hot Cheetos, and a pack of TOP tobacco papers, he finally climbs the stairs towards his tiny apartment. The lift still has the same "Out of Order" sign on it that's been there since he moved in.

Fiddling with his keys, he unlocks the front door and pushes it with his shoulder until a sickening scrape tells him it's open and he manages to wriggle it enough that he can slip inside. Pushing it shut again, he locks the deadbolt and slides on the chain, turning to drop his plastic bag on the floor in front of the couch. When he turns to hang up his jacket, he hears the tell tale crinkle of plastic and Cheetos bags.

Not even looking at his roommate, Zitao crouches down to work his shoes off, setting them somewhat neatly against the wall and heading down the hall towards the bathroom. Flipping on the dingy light, he squeezes into the small space and does his best to rub the mirror clean with his sleeve before inspecting his bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks. Splashing himself with water after a few moments, he doesn't bother with the hand towel, takes a piss, and wanders back out to the living room.

Sehun's got his back to the couch, already three blunts in, rolled and sitting neatly on his knobby knee, and Zitao vaguely files the fact that his shorts have several holes in them away in his mental cabinet before sitting down beside him.

"Turn the TV down; it's too loud..." Sehun mumbles, tone annoyed, and Zitao just looks at the blank screen of the TV. He does nothing, and Sehun gives him a look before picking up the battery-less remote and pushing the power button uselessly. "You smell drunk."

"I am drunk," Zitao slurs out bluntly, shoulders slumping as he reaches for some Cheetos, the over-processed burn a nice distraction from the disgusting smell ruminating beside him as Sehun lights up.

"Why?" Sehun questions, taking a long drag, holding it in, before blowing it out in Zitao's general direction, earning a low growl of annoyance from the redhead. Sehun makes no point of acknowledgement, merely taking the Big Gulp and sipping at it. Zitao glowers at the red Cheetos dust his lips leave behind.

"I don't remember," Zitao continues quietly, looking back at the TV. "Change the channel. I hate the news." Sehun grunts, irritated, and picks up his remote again, pointlessly pushing buttons until he seems satisfied and dropping it between them again.

When Sehun's blunt is almost gone, Zitao reaches over to snatch it from his fingers and finish it off. Sehun gasps, pupils blown, and pinches his shoulder roughly. "Ask first!"

Zitao bares his teeth as a response, snubbing out the spent joint in an overloaded ashtray and slumping back against the couch til his neck is following the curve of the cushions. Sehun lights up another, moving his third joint far away from Zitao and after a second thought, moves the Cheetos as well.

Zitao closes his eyes, too tired to care, thoughts and THC and booze all swirling in his head so quickly that even if he tried, he couldn't provide anything even close to coherent.

They stay in relative silence like that, until Zitao's nearly asleep and Sehun's all out of weed; the Big Gulp's only ice anymore and the Cheetos are reduced to crumbs. Sehun, hunched over slightly, turns his head a little to peer at Zitao through faded rainbow locks, rather unfocused.

It's like this he admires him best; when Zitao's features are less sharp and more soft and he isn't whining or bitching or nagging. When Zitao's almost asleep but not quite and he looks almost serene -- peaceful. It's like the Zitao from three years prior is still reality and not a myth. It's like he's got a steady job, a happy smile, and a bright future.

But it's only right before he falls asleep completely, because when Zitao is actually asleep, he's all frowns and creased brows and quickened breath. Dark eye circles and gaunt cheeks.

Sehun rolls his head to his shoulder slightly and leans; leans until he can gently plop against Zitao's side, and the other jerks in surprise so quickly that his head knocks hard into Sehun's. With a hiss, Zitao reaches up to rub at the spot, and Sehun merely snickers, low and amused.

"...Turn off the TV. We need to sleep." His words are thick with pre-sleep and he's already nursing the beginnings of a headache, rolling away from Sehun and pushing himself to his feet. The loss of warmth brings a slow frown to the younger boy's mouth, and he watches Zitao disappear down the hallway. Turning back to the TV, Sehun stares blankly at the black screen before pushing the button on his empty remote again and leaving all the trash and papers on the floor.

Zitao strips to his briefs and crawls onto the tiny, rickety mattress that lays smushed in the middle of the floor, piles of clean clothes and dirty clothes respectively in the corner, as well as an empty pizza box and more than a respectful number of cheap wine bottles towards the end. Empty cartons of cigarettes litter Zitao's side of the bed. Kicking them out of the way, he slides beneath the thin sheet and curls up on his side, dizzy and too hot and way too drunk to try to turn off the light.

Sehun catches the switch for him instead when he follows the other in, climbing into the bed and laying on his other side, back to Zitao's back. The darkness is enough to hide everything, and for a deluded minute or two, Sehun pretends their world hasn't turned to shit. He pretends Zitao is doing the same.

Sleep takes them both, dreams convoluted and substance induced, but despite it all, they still wake up tangled in each other like every morning before and every morning to come.

[venuma-blog]

pour some sugar on me

sutao wip pt 3 (mature content)

Shutting off the water, Joonmyun climbs from the shower and gropes for a towel, running it over his hair first before drying at his skin, wrapping the soft cotton around his waist. He reaches up to wipe enough of the steam from the mirror to stare at his distorted reflection, licking his lips. His hair sticks out every which way, curling against his cheeks where he really needs a trim, and he sighs. His heart is racing still, and he knows he's procastinating.

He's a little afraid that he'll open the door to an empty room. This is all a bit overwhelming, and Joonmyun's afraid he's getting whiplash from how quickly he went from an overworked CEO without a love life to a lavish sugar daddy with arm candy to rival Victoria Beckham. If he was honest, he was wasting his time; he could be working late, closing deals that would further his business and deepen his pockets, yet here he is. Paying for someone's affection because he can't earn it himself. The thought leaves him slightly nauseous and he grips the edge of the counter, considering heaving. This is more than Joonmyun's ever done -- he's never resorted to this level of shame. Yifan'd made it sound so nonchalant, but then again, the blonde tended to have less of a conscience than Joonmyun and always had.

Trying to pull his hair into place, glances towards the bathroom door and moves, cautiously unlocking it. His luck, Tao took the money and ran anyways. In which case, he'd probably order a few bottles to his room, curl up in shame, and try to pretend he wasn't as pathetic as he felt. As he pulls the door open, the steam of the shower unfurls out into the cooler air of the room, and he steps out, weary eyes glancing towards the bedroom.

Relief floods through his chest, Tao lounging comfortably in the middle of the bed, his button up half undone and legs crossed at the ankles. He's flipping through a room service menu boredly, though once he notices Joonmyun, he sets it aside, smirking. "Have a nice shower?"

Joonmyun gives a weak laugh, moving to sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed, nodding. "I'm uh, surprised you're still here," he blurts out without thinking, regretting it the second it leaves his mouth. Tao pauses a moment, before snorting.

"I'm not a swindler. I'm not here to take your money and ditch you. I think you have escorts and sugar babies confused," he bites slightly, sitting up. Joonmyun wilts a bit at the tone of his voice. "You pay an escort for sex; you pay me for companionship. Our relationship depends on both parties providing for the other. You help me and I help you." Tao slips from the bed and Joonmyun just wants to sink into it, away from view. He's gone and fucked it up, congratulations Joonmyun; you and your dumb mouth. To his surprise, Tao doesn't head straight for his coat, instead moving in front of the other and placing a hand on his hip, peering down at Joonmyun through thick lashes.

"You're lucky you got me. I'm ever so patient and willing to show you the ropes of this game," he purrs out as he slips to his knees, hands sliding up Joonmyun's legs, beneath the towel. Joonmyun's pretty sure his ears are flushing. "Other babies would probably have taken advantage of you and ditched by now. But I'm not like that...I see so much potential in you...I'm gonna show you everything there is. Help you learn while you help me live comfortably. How's that, daddy?" Tao leans in, nuzzling his cheek against Joonmyun's and the brunette feels debauched over how his gut curls in on itself at the sound of Tao's voice.

"So how about you just relax...Because you seem to have a problem with always being ridiculously tense," Tao chuckles, breath dancing along Joonmyun's cheek. It tickles his ear and he leans towards the other slightly, lips parted as he breathes in Tao's scent. He's falling in love with that cologne a little bit more every time the blonde gets close enough for him to smell it.

"Okay...Okay. Help me relax." Joonmyun's given up fighting with his sense of self being; it's something that can be wrestled with in the morning when he's pooled in shame. Right now, all he cares about, all he can focus on, is the blonde enigma leaning into him, with his plush lips and his mischevious eyes. All he knows is that Tao's hands are sliding further up his legs and he can't deny the way his body reacts to the touch. Is it sweat or water trickling down his cheek? He isn't sure.

Tao turns just enough to press his lips against Joonmyun's upper cheek, breath splaying across the skin as he drags them down slowly, garnering a shiver from the pale brunette. Joonmyun finds his eyes hard to keep open, letting them close whilst Tao pulls a hand from beneath his towel, instead placing it flat against Joonmyun's bare chest and pushing him back slowly, up onto the bed. A bit awkwardly, Joonmyun wriggles up, earning a snort from Tao before the other's climbing from the ground to settle on the mattress on his knees, grinning down at Joonmyun.

Hips cocked just slightly, he shifts to bring well manicured hands to the hem of his McQueen sweater, slowly dragging it up and off, careful of his glasses and tossing it aside. Joonmyun sucks in a breath at the sight; Tao's tan and smooth with definition in all the right places. Joonmyun hadn't noticed before, the way his biceps curve and dip, and it takes him a moment to remember that the blonde had in fact said he came here on a martial arts scholarship. Swallowing, he sits up a little, reaching out hesitantly. When Tao makes no move to stop him, Joonmyun slides his hand up along his stomach. He's flat and yet rather sturdy, and Joonmyun can feel himself getting excited over something as simple as that. It's been a while since he's been touched.

Tao gently takes his wrist, moving to pin it above the other's head once he's guided him back down against the mattress, licking his lips slowly. "Thank you so much for taking me out, daddy..." he whispers, voice sultry and Joonmyun has to bite his tongue, his toes curling. That word makes him feel ridiculously disgusting and yet he loves it.

"You're welcome," he mutters without thinking, surprised at even himself for saying it. But Tao is pleased as he slides his free hand up to pin Joonmyun's other wrist, sitting lightly on his waist.

"Let me show you just how thankful I am..." Leaning down the rest of the way, Zitao brushes their mouths together, softly, and Joonmyun's in heaven. He can count on one hand the number of times he's been kissed in the past ten years, and it's rather shameful. Tao's lips are soft, bowed just right to fit with Joonmyun's. He tastes unique, faintly of the wine they shared at dinner, with a hint of spice. Joonmyun akins it to cinnamon. As their mouths meld together, he almost misses the way Tao lets go of his wrists, tan hands sliding down the pillow and over Joonmyun's shoulders. The kiss is over too soon as Tao pulls away with a soft, wet noise, hovering over the other. Joonmyun meets his eyes, inwardly groans at how nice they are with their dark smokey liner, and lets out a shaky breath.

Amused, Tao leans down again, mouth meeting the column of his throat this time, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he works his way down Joonmyun's front. Unsure of what to do with his hands, Joonmyun lets them curl into the sheets, eyes boring into the ceiling. He shivers as Tao brushes across the sensitive skin of his hips, and he makes the mistake of glancing down. His mouth runs dry at the sight as Tao settles comfortably between his legs, undoing his towel. The cold air hits his skin, arousal already at half mast from kisses alone. Tao smirks, slow as his fingers dance up Joonmyun's thighs, eyes on his work.

He wraps a hand around Joonmyun's base and Joonmyun's afraid he might lose it too soon. Another person's hand feels nothing like your own. Gently, he tugs, slow and careful, working Joonmyun easily into full arousal, before he shifts down to lay across the comforter, glancing up at Joonmyun. Their eyes meet again and Joonmyun tightens his grip in the sheets.

"Jesus Christ, you're gorgeous," he mumbles without thinking. Tao preens slightly at that, whispering a gentle, "Thank you, daddy," before kissing the head of Joonmyun's cock slowly.

Joonmyun can't help the way his body tenses, eyes rolling shut with a low groan as he lifts his hips involuntarily towards that gentle heat, and soon enough, Tao's sliding down over him properly, those pliant lips spreading around his arousal and Joonmyun can't form a single thought. His mouth falls open in a silent moan, head pressing back into the pillows, mind filled with white noise and some faint semblance of fuck, his mouth is nice. Bobbing down a few times, Tao pulls off gently, shifting to kiss at the crook of Joonmyun's knee, dragging his tongue slowly down his skin. He's teasing, by the way he moves from one leg to the next, purposefully slow, mouthing against the other.

It doesn't take much to make Joonmyun writhe slightly, letting out a soft whine. "Tao, please..." He finally gives in, voice pleading slightly as he reaches down, a hand instinctively twisting in that blonde hair. Tao raises a brow, smirking up at Joonmyun before taking his cock back in his hands. "Of course~." With that, he takes him back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, and Joonmyun has to use every ounce of self control within him to not force his head down, to bury himself in Tao's burning hot throat. Instead, he trembles beneath him, a jumbled mess of soft curses and quiet pants, tilting his head to watch the other.

Joonmyun can't really comprehend how he ended up here, on his back with the mouth of a God around his dick. He feels filthy and pathetic, yet he can't bring himself to make Tao stop or get up or leave. His mind is just screaming 'wow wow wow wow wow' and his heart's thudding viciously against his chest. Is this what a stroke feels like? Tao's doing wonders with his mouth, sucking at the head, kissing his way down the shaft, and Joonmyun tries not to think about how much practice he's had -- how many other rich business men have done exactly what he's doing now. A week ago he was closed up in his office, pushing papers, and now he's pushing a blonde beauty down against his dick, fingers tight in his hair as he struggles with his inner devils.

Tao slides down wetly, shaking his head just a bit as he burrows the other down his throat. The tip of Joonmyun's cock hits his throat and instantly, he gags. As his throat closes around Joonmyun, the brunette cries out, instinctively holding Tao's head in place. It's overwhelming and intense and his heels press harshly into the mattress. Feeling guilty, he quickly lets go, hissing out. "Sorry, sorry...I'm sorry."

Tao pulls off, wiping at his mouth, rolling his eyes a bit. "Didn't I tell you to relax? It's fine," he purrs out, hand twisting around his arousal to pull a few times before quickly going down on him once more. Joonmyun tries to follow his advice, but Tao's got him so worked up that relaxing is the last thing on his mind. His whole body is tense with anticipation and he's pretty sure he's about to cum.

Tao sucks with everything he's got, cheeks hollowing, fingers creating a tight right that yanks what can't fit in his mouth. The sounds filling the room are wet and lewd and Joonmyun can barely warn the blonde before he cums with a loud, strangled cry. Tao pulls off just in time for Joonmyun to shoot his load straight across his face, cum splattering up the sharp line of his cheeks and smearing over his glasses. He licks his lips slowly, doing his best to hide the irritation of having cum both in his hair and on his favorite pair of CHROME HEARTS frames, slowly working Joonmyun down from his high.

The older man curls in just a bit, panting weakly as his hearing fades for a second, like cotton was stuffed in his ears, the blood rush a bit intense. He's long overdue for this, and years of Right-Hand-Sally can't make up for one night in Tao's mouth. When his heartbeat is relatively normal again and he can sit up without being afraid the ground's going to come up to meet him, he props himself on his forearms.

Tao looks positively wrecked with his flushed cheeks, eyeliner smeared just a bit where his eyes had watered, lips thick, red, and wet with saliva. Joonmyun's cum is still slowly making it's way down his face, dripping off the corner of his glasses and Joonmyun's pretty sure he's never going to forget this sight.

"Sorry..." he mumbles weakly, slightly ashamed that he came so quickly, especially all over Tao's face without any proper warning. Tao merely chuckles, the sound low and sensual.

"You apologize too much," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Joonmyun fully, the taste of Joonmyun's own release still heavy on his tongue. Breaking apart, Tao pulls his glasses off, using the edge of the sheet to clean them off before reaching up to wipe at his face. "Is it in my hair...?"

"Uh a...a little," Joonmyun can't help but laugh despite being embarrassed, because there's something in the way Tao's eyebrows knit together in frustration that leaves a tiny, warm thump in his heart. Reaching up, Joonmyun carefully pinches at Tao's hair, doing his best to clean off his cum, before he hesitates, glancing down at the other. "Do you need me to help with..?"

Tao shakes his head, laughing. "I'm fine, baby, no worries~. " Crawling over Joonmyun, he carefully guides him back down against the bed, leaving a slow peck to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you again, daddy," he whispers, eyes alight. Joonmyun shudders, mumbling to the other: "I really like it when you call me that..."

"I'll do it more often then," Tao assures him before he's pulling back and Joonmyun no longer finds himself intoxicated by his scent. "I want to stay, daddy, I do, but I have class in the morning..." He starts to pout and Joonmyun can't help but find his words genuine, even though he's sure the other is probably lying. Nodding weakly, he sits up.

"No, no, I understand...We'll set up another date soon..?" Joonmyun's already finding himself addicted, wanting more and more of Tao, his scent, his mouth, his eyes.

"Of course, 'myun. I'll text you when I'm free again this month, okay? Thank you for my allowance and thank you so much for today's date," he continues to purr, kissing Joonmyun on the cheek again before climbing off the bed and collecting his things. He shrugs into his jacket and hides his cum ruined hair with his hat before picking up his bags. Winking at the other, he blows a little kiss before waving his fingers, disappearing out the door.

Just like that, he's gone, and the shame, guilt, and cold sinks in. Joonmyun really is pathetic. With a groan, he drops his head back against the pillows and drapes an arm over his eyes. Tao's sharp eyes and plush lips burn in his retinas behind his lids.

[venuma-blog]

pour some sugar on me

sutao wip pt. 2

so i've went on a couple POT (that's "potentials" for you newbies out there) dates this past week. mostly salty daddies, which is sad for the new york bowl. the game here is nothing like qingdao. you either strike it rich or you go home broke as fuck.

one of them though, i'll call him Wagyu, because that's what we both ordered on our dinner, might be worth the trouble. he's new, so maybe i can get a bit more $$$ out of him if he doesn't know the ropes, you know? ;) he had himself a black card too. mmm i can taste the valentino!!

i miss all my sugar baby girls and boys back home ;( i hope you guys are doing well in the bowl. hustle that money!!

Zitao clicks submit on his weibo post, sighing a bit to himself as he curls up on his white couch, glancing idly at the clock before pulling up the essay he'd been working on earlier. The sugaring game in America is nothing like back home; he'd been a hit there, where male sugar babies were an exotic rarity. But here, the gross, married business men that went looking for babies tended to want women. The ones who did want men usually made Zitao's skin crawl; but the money was a good medicine for that.

Fuck it, he can't focus on his essay at all. Saving the document and closing the window, he sets his laptop aside and climbs from the couch. A shower'd do good to ease his mind. Lately, all he's gone out with were salts, or worse, Pay Per Meets. Zitao isn't an escort, and he'll make it damn clear to any man that offers him some petty amount to fuck on the first date. He sets his phone on the dock, letting his music shuffle while he turns on the water.

His mind wanders back to Joonmyun, an amused smile on his lips while he strips. He can't lie, he hasn't gone out with a Daddy as attractive as him before, nor as young, and there's a rush of adrenaline in his stomach. The guy has to be a trust fund baby or something, because who runs a company at thirty six and manages to look that good? While Joonmyun'd been in the bathroom, Zitao'd snuck a look at the bill, caught the other's name, and done his share of Spokeo and Google once he'd gotten home that night ($200 richer, might he add); the guy's background checked out. So Zitao was at least certain he wasn't a liar.

Climbing into the water, he sighs, relaxing into the hot stream, dropping his head back. He'll have to set up another date quickly; his rent's due in a couple weeks.

---

Joonmyun's afraid he's become a little obsessed. He checks his phone at every interval between paperwork and meetings and conferences; the Chinese blonde has invaded his every thought. Yifan's amused once Joonmyun tells him about the date, and pats him on the back, then proceeds to pat himself on the back.

"You did well, Yifan. You did well," he nods, gummy smile directed at Joonmyun who laughs, rolling his eyes. "Here's to Joonmyunnie actually getting laid this century."

Once Yifan is back in the confines of his own office, Joonmyun leans back in his chair, sighing a bit. He's never felt so giddy, so nervous before. Sure, he tried to date a little in college, but even then, it was always forced and awkward, and he spent more time thinking about his paper due on the weekend than the girls he was supposed to be wining and dining.

Part of his problem, he'd come to find out after a drunken night with his English professor's TA, had been that they were in fact girls. He'd only ever told Yifan about that night.

But this wasn't really dating, was it? Like Yifan said, he was paying for Tao's time. Wasn't this an investment of sorts? An uneasy feeling settles into his stomach at the thought, but he does his best to brush it aside. This isn't like buying an escort; this isn't prostitution. He's just buying someone's companionship. As the site had said, it was a "Mutually Beneficial Arrangement." He helped with Tao's bills and needs, and Tao returned the favor.

Picking up his phone, he scrolled quietly through the texts they'd exchanged. It was only a few -- mostly goodnights, good mornings, and discussions about their arrangement. Tao wanted an 'allowance' each month. Joonmyun could handle that, he figured, though the thought was a little unnerving. It really did make him feel like a 'Sugar Daddy,' which sounded lame and awful and he really didn't like referring to himself as that. Tao didn't come at a cheap price either; $3k a month, paid twice a month. And he wanted it in cash. Joonmyun felt awkward discussing it so bluntly, but part of him liked how forward Tao was -- how upfront with what this was and what he wanted.

Rubbing his face, he set aside his phone again and pushed himself from the chair. Friday night, after Tao's classes, he'd take the other on another date. Worried that Tao might lose interest, or worse, find someone else, Joonmyun makes sure to turn around and page Baekhyun.

"Can you do me a favor...? I need you to book some tickets for me."

---

'Dress nice! I'm going to take you all over tonight. Come hungry!'

Zitao glanced back over Joonmyun's text, chuckling quietly to himself. This guy was way too polite; he wasn't used to it. Normally, by the second date, he was already getting the sexts and 'wear something nice underneath ;]'. Or the 'which hotel do u prefer???' He wasn't sure if this was Joonmyun's way of sexting, but if it was, it was pretty lame. Dropping his phone on the bed, he made his way to his closet, sliding the creaky door open and breathing in the scent of designers.

"Hello, babies," he cooed in soft Mandarin, humming happily to himself. "Who do I feel like wearing today, mm?"

---

Joonmyun checked his watch, shrugging further into his coat for warmth. The chill of December was strong in New York, cutting him to the bone despite his layers and the thick red scarf tucked into the lip of his jacket. The hustle bustle around him isn't even enough to warm him, and he glances up at the hotel he's currently standing beneath, waiting. Then again, he's about ten minutes early, making up for the near hour and a half he'd been late on their last date.

Within the next five minutes, he hears a familiar voice and quickly spins on his heel. "Hi Joonmyun," Tao coos out, and Joonmyun can't even see his breath in the frosty air because it's gone, right out of his chest. Tao's clad in black again -- the color is wonderful on him -- and his jeans are skin-tight, pointed boots reflecting the lights of the marquee. His blonde hair is obscured by a deep red fedora, and the eyeliner makes his eyes lok sharp enough to impale with their gaze, a pair of glasses at the very tip of his bridge.

"Tao! Hey; nice to see you," Joonmyun fumbles over his words, laughing weakly as he first reaches out to shake the other's hand before realizing how stunted and formal that was, quickly dropping it. Tao, amused, leans in to hug the other, bending just slightly at the waist to pull Joonmyun in flush against his chest. Joonmyun swallows audibly, but quickly hugs back, and there's that rich scent again. He's definitely going to have to buy a bottle of that for the other at some point.

"Are you hungry?" he questions once Tao's released him and he's regained his heartbeat. Tao nods, smile light on his lips as the older man takes him gently by the elbow, guiding him inside and out of the chill of the night.

Dinner goes fairly smooth and Joonmyun doesn't make too much of a fool of himself. His eyes wander everywhere but Tao, to the food, the other patrons, the wine, and at some point, Tao has to reach over and place a hand over his as he talks to garner his attention, effectively shutting him up. With a smirk, Tao tilts his head. "I'm not boring you, am I, Joonmyun?" Blinking, Joonmyun's quick to shake his head, giving another nervous laugh.

"Ah, no, no...Sorry; does it seem that way?"

"A little..." Tao retracts his hand, still smirking before setting his napkin on his empty plate. "Should we go find something more entertaining?" Joonmyun nods, waving for the bill before standing, quick to help Tao from his chair. On their way out the door, Tao lightly hooks arms with Joonmyun, leaning down to whisper quietly against his ear.

"Relax a little..." Joonmyun pinkens slightly, which causes Tao to giggle, and he guides him off towards the curbside to hail a cab.

---

"It was wonderful!" Tao gushes slightly, still humming along to Chicago, tugging Joonmyun from the doors of the theatre. "And such nice seats." With a grin, Tao huddles close to Joonmyun, biting onto his bottom lip as he peers down at the other through his glasses. Joonmyun's all smiles, pleased with himself for choosing such a hit with the other, preening slightly in the attention. Tao has such a nice smile, and Joonmyun'd be lying if he said he'd paid more attention to the musical than the other's face.

"Where to next, mm? The night's not over is it?" he murmurs with a faux pout, nudging Joonmyun softly. Quickly shaking his head, the brunette gestures towards the cars, smiling.

"No, no, of course not...What would Tao like to do next?" Joonmyun laughs lightly, pulling open the door to a cab and letting Tao climb in first before climbing in as well. Once they're in the car, the driver glances at them expectantly, waiting for an address.

"Well...you know, it's rather cold isn't it?" Tao speaks softly, glancing briefly at the cab driver before looking back to Joonmyun, a hand carefully sliding down over the older man's knee. "I could really use a new jacket...This one isn't very warm, you know?"

Joonmyun swallows hard. That jacket looks perfectly warm to him, but then again, the hand on his knee is making the cab feel like a sauna. Nodding immediately, he agrees wholeheartedly, looking to the driver. "Uhm, Eighth Avenue, please," he manages to speak surprisingly stable. Tao seems pleased with that, sitting back, hand retreating as he rides in relative silence.

The ride is rather suffocating on Joonmyun's end, and he pulls out his phone to distract himself with work emails, scrolling through and answering what he can. It helps calm his heart rate at least, and before he knows it, they've reached Chelsea, the long line of menswear shops at their disposal. Pocketing his phone, he pays the driver and helps Tao from the cab, gesturing down the road. "Wherever your heart leads you, Tao," he tries with a smile.

"Wherever? Okay~." Tao quickly grins, taking Joonmyun's hand lightly and pulling him down the street. Considering Joonmyun really only shops in the same two stores, much to Yifan's chagrin, he isn't really sure which stores have what. Of course, to Tao, this means they must go into all of them.

Joonmyun finds himself on chaise after chaise, sitting outside fitting room after fitting room. Tao does a good job of modelling everything that catches his eyes, and soon enough they've gone from 'a jacket' to 'a jacket, two new pairs of shoes, three shirts, and a new hat.' Joonmyun can't even find himself to care, because each new piece that Tao comes out in looks better than the last, and his eyes are more locked on the curves of his hips than the price on the tags.

Even if his hands are starting to hurt from the number of bags he's toting along. As they make their way back towards the cabs, Joonmyun loads the bags into the back of a car as Tao climbs in ahead of time. Once he's in the car as well, he turns to ask Tao where he'd like to be let off, only to find his voice die in his throat. The other's grinning at him, eyes predatory as he slides a hand down Joonmyun's leg. "Let's go somewhere nice, 'myun...So I can thank you for my presents," he murmurs playfully.

Tao's like a siren and Joonmyun is his sailor, hopelessly lost at sea as he nods. He can't even hear himself giving the driver the address of the first hotel he can think of, and the trip that in reality takes twenty minutes feels more like five. Tao's hand never leaves his leg, though his eyes go back out the window, and Joonmyun has to lean against his door, his own hand pressed firmly against his jaw in an attempt to will his blood pressure down.

He wasn't expecting things to lead to this, but who's he to deny. After all, isn't this the sort of thing he's paying for? Again, there's the brief ball of guilt in his stomach before he shakes it off, clambering out of the cab outside of the Pestana and moving to get Tao's bags. Tao slips out behind him at some point, and Joonmyun can feel the heat of his presence behind him all the way through the lobby and up to the desk.

He's almost worried the receptionist is going to question him when he asks for a room without a reservation, but his smile seems to be reassuring enough that he gathers a card without trouble, signs the receipt, and turns to lead Tao towards the elevators. The ride up is mostly silent, the thick tension hanging in the air. Tao seems rather relaxed, but Joonmyun's tucked into a corner awkwardly.

As they exit and make their way to their room, Joonmyun's conscience takes over. 'What're you doing?!' 'This is prostitution, you know.' 'Where'd Good Boy Kim Joonmyun go?!' Joonmyun isn't entirely sure where he went, but as his keycard slides through the door and they step into the wide suite, he's not sure he gives a shit.

Setting Tao's bags down next to the desk against the wall, he slips from his shoes and fishes out his wallet, hand brushing against something else within his pocket. He'd almost forgotten. Pulling out the folded envelope in his pocket, he turned to find himself face to face with Tao, stumbling back a bit in shock, earning a cute laugh from the blonde. "Did I spook you? Sorry..." he murmurs, glancing down at the envelope curiously. "What's that?"

"Oh, uhm...Your allowance, I suppose..." Joonmyun feels awkward when he says it out loud, handing the envelope over, $1500 in crisp bills folded within. Tao takes it easily, not even bothering to look inside as he tucks it neatly into his jacket, grin spreading more than before.

"You can take a shower or something, if you'd like, Joonmyun," Tao nods towards the bathroom, moving away from the other's personal space and allowing him to breathe again as he moved to inspect the room curiously, fingers dancing along any surface he passes. He tugs the curtains open, peering down at the streets with a raised brow.

"Are you saying I stink...?" Joonmyun tries to joke, laughing a little. He's not sure if Tao's responding laugh is fake or not, but either way, Joonmyun likes it. "No, no, of course not," the other shakes his head. Regardless, Joonmyun takes him up on his offer, shedding his scarf and jacket on the chair and wringing his hands together gently as he heads to the bathroom. Running the water, he strips and steps inside, drowning his face in the water; anything to calm himself down.

He hopes to God Tao doesn't run off while he's in there.

---

Zitao unfolds the envelope once he hears the lock click, and soon after, the water run. Flipping through the bills, he counts them quickly, smirking a bit before pocketing the envelope again and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He considers leaving; Joonmyun's rather trusting and nervous and all of it's a bit of a turn off to Zitao if he's going to be honest. But something in his gut convinces him to stay, so instead he tugs out his phone.

'pestana. suite 341. kim joonmyun.' he texts to a contact listed in his phone only as 'shixun♡.' After a few minutes, his phone dings in reply. 'k. dnt choke.' Zitao rolls his eyes, undoing his jacket and draping it over the chaise near the balcony, setting his hat on the edge and moving towards the mirror to fix his hair. Might as well get his job over with so he could go home and still have time to watch the new episode of Dance Moms.

---

[venuma-blog]

pour some sugar on me

sutao wip pt. 1

The lights of New York burn into Joonmyun's irises, leaving little colored specks in his vision no matter where he looks. With a sigh, he lifts his watch to peek at the time again, smacking at his steering wheel in frustration. He's an hour late, traffic ungodly at this hour, and suddenly he lamely wonders why he bothered to drive his Bentley, leaning his forehead against the wheel. To impress, of course, he answers his own question. After all, that's what you had to do with these sorts of people, right? Joonmyun isn't sure, considering his dating pool is rather small and limited; much to the distaste of his colleagues, he dates his desk and his paperwork far more than he does anything or anyone else.

'You should really get out more, Joonmyun,' Yifan, his business partner, had mentioned offhandedly as he took the coffee from the offering intern, his eyes lingering on the sharp cheekbones and feline smile, head tilting a bit as he watched him leave. Joonmyun, oblivious, furrowed his brows together as he tugged on a particular folder, the corner stuck beneath Yifan's pressed black slacks.

'You're sitting on the Shinkai deal...Move,' he'd grumbled slightly, tugging again. Yifan tore his eyes from the closing door and instead rolled them, shifting until one buttcheek was off the folder, Joonmyun having tugged a bit too hard and sending the contents scattering across the desk. With a frustrated sigh, he began straightening them up. Yifan snorted quietly and set the other's coffee down out of harm's way, sipping at his own.

'I'm just saying it'd do you some good,' Yifan continued, sputtering slightly when he burnt his upper lip, sliding off the desk to grab a tissue and bring it to his mouth. 'Jesus fuck, I told the kid to get cold milk so it wouldn't be scalding...'

'Jongdae's screwed up your coffee three times already; I have no idea why you keep asking him to fetch it.' Joonmyun grabbed his fountain pen, checked the ink, and left his artistic scrawl across a few lines before folding the case back up and setting the folder in his outbox. Only then did he allow himself a sip of coffee, shrugging. 'Mine tastes fine.'

Yifan, still grimacing as he dabbed his Burberry button up, sniffed a tad. 'I like to watch him leave.'

'You're unbearable. What would your wife say?'

'I'm not allowed to look? I'm behaving; I'm not touching anything.' Tossing the tissue into the trash, Yifan left his coffee on the desk to cool off, moving towards the floor to ceiling windows behind Joonmyun's desk, hands sliding into his pockets. 'I mean it though. You need to get out.'

'Yifan, if I had time to go through the perils of dating, our entire company would plummet,' Joonmyun sighed, twisting in his chair to face his Vice President. The blonde tilted his head briefly to glance at Joonmyun before looking back at the streets below them, shrugging. 'There's always options,' he'd chuckled.

'What, to stop time? Even now, we're wasting time. You should be in your own office, not in mine, harrassing the interns and me,' Joonmyun laughed slightly, taking another sip of his coffee. He could spare a couple minutes he supposed. Yifan gestured back at the other with a large hand, and Joonmyun carefully handed over his coffee.

'I recently met up with Luhan; remember him? From Uni?' Yifan continued, taking another sip with a grimace. Joonmyun had to think a bit, face contorting awkwardly in thought before realization hit him.

'Oh! Wasn't he Yixing's roommate? The one with a trust fund?' Pushing from his chair, Joonmyun moved to stand beside Yifan, peering down at the hustle bustle forty floors beneath them. 'All I remember was that he fooled around a lot, since he pretty much bought his way through life.'

'He still does. Buys his way through everything; even love.' Yifan's voice was pointed, and Joonmyun turned to blink stupidly up at the taller man.

'What're you getting at?'

'Luhan had a real pretty chick on his arm. I don't even remember her name, and frankly, I doubt he does either.'

Joonmyun tilted his head slightly, expression still rather dumb. The gears weren't quite clicking yet. 'Good for him..?'

'He bought her, Joonmyun, God you're dense,' Yifan laughed, ruffling the shorter man's perfectly slicked brunette hair, much to the disdain of Joonmyun.

'An escort?! Don't be ridiculous. I'm not that pathetic,' Joonmyun huffed, turning to slide back into his chair, bringing his coffee back to his mouth.

'You are that pathetic,' Yifan lamented solemnly, speaking only the truth. Joonmyun choked on his coffee, and half of it ended up on his shirt; with a groan, he loosened his tie, trying to mop it up with tissues, glaring at the other. 'But there's hope. She wasn't an escort.'

Joonmyun wasn't even mildly interested, looking back down at his shirt with a heavy sigh, reaching forward to press the pager at the edge of his desk planner. 'Baekhyun, do me a favor and bring me a new shirt. I've just gone and spilled Americano all down the front of mine,' he grumbled to his secretary, the chipper voice giving back a, 'Right away, Mr. Kim!'

Once he'd sat back in his seat, picking at his buttons until he could discard the button up, undershirt just as drenched, he glanced back up at Yifan with a distasteful scowl. 'I'm not buying an escort.'

'She wasn't an escort; I already said that. Luhan was telling me all about this site he went on; Seeking Arrangement. She was a sugar baby. He called it a "Mutually Beneficial Arrangement,"' The other moved to pick up Joonmyun's shirt and toss it into the trash. 'It's not like you don't make enough money to afford one. Basically, you pay them for their time, and they give you their companionship. You get to skip all the wasted time on traditional dating and jump right into the fray of it.'

'What makes you think that'd be right for me, huh? I'm not like Luhan; if I remember right, that kid had a steady stream of girls to the point that Yixing stayed with us more often than not. I'm not all about that fake relationship stuff, Yifan,' Joonmyun frowned, glancing in his desk mirror to fix his hair a little where Yifan'd ruined it.

'It's not really fake...It's just a suggestion,' the blonde chuckled, shrugging. 'You just need to do something before you hit forty, because you're under-laid, and it's really starting to make you unbearable,' Yifan teased pleasantly, reaching out to pinch Joonmyun's cheek. Joonmyun tugged away with a grimace.

'You don't exactly get sexed up a lot either, Mister I'm-In-A-Stale-Marriage.' Yifan narrowed his eyes slightly, reaching a long arm out to pinch Joonmyun's cheek harder.

'Watch it. You may be CEO, but I'm older than you,' he threatened, though there's no real heat to his words. Joonmyun made a face and swatted at his hand before standing as Baekhyun let himself into the room. With an immediate reversal into a pleasant smile, Joonmyun thanked him for the new shirt, tearing into the package and unfolding it, shaking it out a bit. Baekhyun handed over a new undershirt as well and Joonmyun was quick to shed his dirty one, pulling the new one over. As he popped his head through the top, he grimaced, shooing his hands at Baekhyun, who was currently grinning wickedly at Yifan, the blonde returning the expression boyishly.

'Thank you, Baekhyun,' Joonmyun stated firmly, gesturing towards the door.

'Baekhyun, could you go organize the conference room for my 4 o' clock?' Yifan interjected charmingly.

'You have your own secretary!' Joonmyun swatted at the other with his dirty undershirt. Yifan rolled his eyes, amused, and moved to follow the snickering secretary out the door. 'Think about it, Joonmyun,' he called out behind him, door sliding shut.

The honking behind him has Joonmyun jerking from his thoughts, sitting up quickly and lifting his foot off the brakes, holding up a hand in apology. He was ashamed to admit that he'd merely lasted a couple hours that day before he'd curiously pulled up SeekingArrangement.com and narrowed his eyes at the entire site. After browsing a little, he'd promptly shut it and focused on Work and just Work.

That night, in the security of his highrise Chelsea apartment, he'd made a profile, guilt and shame boiling in his stomach, especially as he selected 'man interested in men'.

Picking up his phone, he quickly pulls up his messages, biting his bottom lip slightly before writing another, 'I'm almost there!! Lots of traffic; I am so sorry!!' text to the contact listed only as 'HZT.' After a few minutes, his phone buzzes with a reply: 'don't worry about it. can i order us some wine while i wait? ;]' Joonmyun feels awful that the other's already seated, but assures him to feel free, glaring back at the license plate in front of him.

It's another twenty minutes before he finally arrives at the restaurant, leaving his keys to the valet and quickly making his way inside, stopping briefly to check his coat in, fix his hair in a mirror, and follow the hostess to his reservation. He swears his heart's about to leap into his throat, nervous as he peers around the restaurant. Briefly, he considers turning on his heels and running back out. Good boys don't do this; his family would be ashamed, and frankly, he could be at home working on investments than here with someone who probably would merely be counting the seconds until he got paid and could leave. There's a faint taste of bile on his tongue and he glances around briefly to try to find the nearest restroom.

His eyes get stuck, however, at the table he's led to, and immediately he feels his breath escape him. Sure, from the very small amount of pictures they'd shared, he'd expected HZT to be gorgeous (after all, he was pampered by business men of all sorts with pockets probably deeper than Joonmyun's), but none of them had shown his face. Just the same, Joonmyun had hid his, and when his eyes meet the sharp brown irises peering up at him from beneath ash blonde hair, spiked to perfection, Joonmyun is pretty sure the entire restaurant can hear him swallow.

The hostess leaves once she's pulled Joonmyun's chair out for him, set a menu in front of him, and poured him a glass of wine.

"I'm so sorry I'm late; traffic was awful," Joonmyun starts nervously, mouth extra dry, and he takes a quick gulp of Cabarnet, hiding a grimace. He was definitely more of a white wine sort of man.

"It's okay, really," The other's accent is thick, leaving his English hanging in the air with an air of softness to them, voice languid. Joonmyun allows himself to look at him properly once he's worked up the nerve, licking his dry lips. HZT is gorgeous by any standards, man or woman. Joonmyun's never been quite open about his preference, but he couldn't see how anybody could resist this man, with his dark eyes, perfect hair, and tanned skin. His sweater dips just enough at the collar to tease Joonmyun with a glimpse of defined collarbones, and his fingers are long and thin, currently wrapped around the stem of his glass as he brings it up to plush lips, taking a slow sip. His eyes are currently sizing up Joonmyun as well, and suddenly, Joonmyun is embarrassed on top of already being nervous.

"I'm Joonmyun," he starts, introducing himself properly as he reaches a hand across the table in offering. The corner of the blonde's lips tug up in a smirk and Joonmyun feels weak in the knees as he takes his hand. Their handshake is firm and Zitao's hands are softer than any woman's he's ever grasped.

"I'm Tao," comes that soft voice, and Joonmyun bounces his leg slightly to distract himself from the way it surrounds his senses. Giving the other a pleasant smile, he releases their grip and folds his hands gently across the table. Tao raises a perfectly shaped brow. "Shouldn't we order? It has been a while, and I'm a little hungry."

Joonmyun blinks before fumbling with his menu, giving a weak laugh. "Yes, of course, sorry. I'm so sorry I kept you waiting." Picking up his menu, he peeks over the top, relaxing a little at Tao's amused expression, before skimming his options. Settling on something easy on his stomach, he chooses seared halibut with foie gras, taking another sip of wine. It isn't until the waiter appears that he realizes his breath will smell like fish, and suddenly he's even more embarrassed. This is why he doesn't date. Quickly, he changes his order to the first thing he spots on the menu, the waiter leaving with both pamphlets.

"So," Tao purrs out once their orders are being whisked away, and Joonmyun returns from his jumbled thoughts. "Tell me a little about yourself, Joonmyun? You said you dealt in stocks, right?" Joonmyun relaxes a little, giving a gentle laugh.

"Well, sorta. I own an investment company. We trade stocks and bridge deals between companies with mergers and the like. Businesses come to my company seeking assistance with their profits, and we put them to good use, teach them how to invest properly, help them network, and in return, we earn a chunk of their profits," he chatters on. The way Tao glances at Joonmyun's watch has him worrying that he's boring the other. "But that's all a bit boring, isn't it? What do you do?"

"Mm?" Tao raises a brow again, thinking a moment, before he grins. "I'm a student."

"A student?" Joonmyun blinks in slight surprise. "For how long?"

"A sophomore," the blonde hums in response. "I'm actually an exchange student. I'm here on a scholarship." Joonmyun nods enthusiastically, interested.

"How old are you? What's your scholarship for?" he questions, perhaps a bit overeager. Tao laughs slightly, sitting up a bit in his seat.

"Slow down...My English isn't that great," he teases, and Joonmyun feels his heart stutter at the way his lips curl over his teeth when he grins. Joonmyun nods in apology, bringing a hand up to his neck shyly. Tao doesn't answer until he's drained his glass, and Joonmyun immediately leans over to refill it.

"I'm twenty two. And I have a scholarship because of my martial arts." Reaching up, he lightly brushes his fingers against Joonmyun's, taking his glass with a grin and a 'Thanks,' making the brunette's stomach flip excitedly. So he's gorgeous and he could probably kick Joonmyun's ass; Joonmyun's not sure if it's fear or attraction pooling in his gut.

"How old are you?" Tao continues, asking over the rim of his glass. Joonmyun pinkens slightly, rubbing his cheek.

"I'm thirty six..." he laughs nervously, not realizing the age gap until it's out in the air. He's fourteen years Tao's senior. If it bothers Tao, he doesn't show it, instead tilting his head a bit.

"Thirty six and already a CEO?" he tests playfully, as if he doesn't quite believe the other's occupation suddenly. "You certainly don't look thirty six."

Joonmyun's cheeks pinken more at the compliment and he laughs shyly, shaking his head. "Koreans age well, I guess...My best friend and I started up this company shortly after graduating University. We only really started to blossom well about five years ago."

Zitao gives a noise of understanding, nodding as their food arrives, and Joonmyun only then notices what the other's ordered. It's an American Wagyu 12 oz rib-eye steak, the same thing Joonmyun himself has ordered, and he can't help but laugh slightly. Expensive taste, then, considering it was a $92 cut of beef. But that was to be expected, wasn't it?

"How long have you been doing these, uhm...arrangements?" Joonmyun questions as he lifts his knife to cut a piece of his steak, staring at it more than the other out of slight embarrassment. That was a dumb thing to ask, now it's awkward --

"A few years," Tao answers, delayed, delicately taking his fork and knife to his own steak. "Since China."

"You're Chinese?" Joonmyun looks up at that, and then cringes because he feels stupid for not noticing. Of course he's Chinese; his name is Tao.

Tao laughs at that, and it's a sound that sends relief through Joonmyun's veins as he relaxes a bit, admiring the other's smile. "Did you think I was something else? Do I not look Chinese?" He takes a bite of his steak, the fork slipping slowly from his lips. Is that...gloss? Joonmyun's slightly distracted before he's quickly shaking his head.

"Oh, no, you do, I mean, I just didn't..." he fumbles over his words, and Tao swallows, giggling behind his palm. His sharp eyes glance down teasingly towards Joonmyun's plate, and the older man looks as well, realizing he's been cutting at the plate for almost a minute now, tender meat already sliced through.

Joonmyun's making a fool of himself and he suddenly feels like throttling Yifan for even putting this idea in his head. "Is this your first time?" Tao's voice is so casual, and yet there's almost a faint lisp to his words; it's endearing.

"It's obvious, huh," Joonmyun laughs weakly, ears bright red. Tao smiles, nodding a bit before he returns to cutting at his dinner.

"You're cute though. So it's okay," he muses. Joonmyun, slightly taken aback, watches the other for a moment before taking a bite of his dinner with a wide smile.

Their meal continues on in idle chatter. Between bites of food and sips of wine, Joonmyun learns a bit more about Tao; he learns that the other's trained in Wushu, that he's attending a University ("I'm not comfortable telling you just yet...You understand, right?" Tao'd smiled.) as a Poetry major, and that he really likes sweets. He learns that Tao has a penchant for fashion, literature, and fine dining. His ideal dates are beaches and theatre and shopping.

Joonmyun tells him about his job, how hard he works, that he doesn't have a lot of time for himself. He tells him about his days of University, how his company rose from the bottom, and how he really likes to read. He tells him about his dog, and how he hasn't really told anyone about his sexuality, that the only person who really knows is his vice president, Wu Yifan. At the mention of Yifan's name, Tao perks up slightly ("Chinese? Introduce me one day," he'd hummed.) and Joonmyun feels a twinge of jealousy first, followed by the fear that he's boring the other.

At dessert, Joonmyun finds himself helplessly staring at the spoonfuls of sorbet disappearing between Tao's lips, and has to clear his throat and excuse himself briefly for the restroom. Upon his return, he finds the bill, and Tao idly glancing at his phone. Pulling out his black credit card as he sits, he signs the bill (which comes out to around $300 after the bottle of wine and dessert), oblivious to the way Tao's eyes linger on Joonmyun's card; the way his lips tug into a bit more of a smirk than before.

Handing off the check, he stands, pushing in his chair and offering a hand to the other in a gentleman's fashion, despite the racing of his heart. He hopes his palms aren't sweaty. Tao takes it nonetheless and stands, and Joonmyun reddens (he's done that a lot tonight) at how he has to crane his neck up to properly look at the other. Tall and attractive -- all the genes Joonmyun himself didn't seem to get. The kid rivals Yifan's height, and even Tao seems to be pleasantly amused at the difference between them. Putting it off with another smile, Joonmyun guides the other towards the coat check, gathering both their jackets for them and helping Tao slide into his sleek black peacoat. It's probably a brand Joonmyun's never heard of, and that brief close contact fills his senses with a delicious cologne. As Tao fixes his scarf, Joonmyun can't help but blurt out, "What scent are you wearing?"

A bit surprised, Tao gives a laugh before humming, pleased. "Gucci Black."

Joonmyun nods, as if that made any sense to him, and gestures towards the doors. "I can take you home if you'd like --" he hesitates at the slight weariness in Tao's eyes, and immediately offers a bright, charming smile. "Or I can pay for a cab."

Tao reaches to hook their arms lightly, nodding for Joonmyun to lead the way. "I think I'll take the cab this time," he hums, winking at the other. Joonmyun nods quickly, guiding him outside and towards the curb, where he does his best to wave down a cab. Holding open the door, he licks his dry lips, watching the lanky blonde climb into the car. Quickly fishing in his pocket for his wallet, he tugs out all the money left inside (about $200) and hands it over unceremoniously, smiling weakly. "That should cover it, right?" Tao raises a brow but takes the money without question, grinning up at the other. "It'll do, I suppose," he teases.

Joonmyun closes the door with the promise of continued communication lingering in the air. His insides are doing somersaults, and he watches the other's cab disappear into New York traffic before wandering off to get his car from valet, already fishing in his pocket for his phone, planning to call Yifan on his way home. The other doesn't answer, and instead, Joonmyun's left to his jumbled thoughts as his only company on his drive back to Chelsea.

[venuma-blog]

inhale exhale

mature content

his hand is twisted hard in baekhyun's hair, pinning his head to the mattress, though his hips are coaxing the redhead to join him in a dance of breaths and sweat. his free hand ghosts down baekhyun's front, along the curve of his stomach and down his left hip before his nails latch and earn a loud hiss from the boy beneath him. he pants against that open mouth beneath him, fueling each whine of piercing falsetto.

"where'd all your words go?" he asks in sharp mandarin, voice husked in the heated cave of blankets where they dance in the dark, afraid of the smallest turn of the doorknob. baekhyun's eyes roll back and he chokes out some sort of noise, not a clue what yixing said.

"did i swallow them all?" yixing continues to whisper, dancing to the rhythm of skin slapping skin, fingers smoothing up to slowly press into that white column that baekhyun's pretty little head rests on. he squeezes slowly.

"sing for me, baekhyunnie," he whispers sweetly in thick korean, and the strangled breaths from the redheaded vocalist create an instrumental for him to pop his hips in to the other's with. baekhyun keens, whining, the lack of air rushing to his head and it hurts so fucking good, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"why aren't you singing?" yixing asks again, leaning down to bite onto baekhyun's sensitive neck. if the younger man could breathe, he would've screamed, cheeks flushing with lack of airflow. his release hits him hard, unexpectedly, and the impact of cum across his stomach has yixing releasing that bruised neck. baekhyun takes a loud, long gasp, gulping down the sweet air.

a couple hard thrusts later, and yixing joins him on his high.

[venuma-blog]

allergies

When Jongdae looks up at him with those fauxly innocent eyes, Chanyeol falls for it every time.

"No, no, no, Jongdae, not today, they're really bad today, okay?" Chanyeol whines, trying to push the cat's head away, groping for a tissue to shove up his nose. Jongdae let's out a mix between a purr and a hiss, flopping back on the couch, tail cocked irritably.

"But I want to cuddle..." the feline whines, sharp canines poking at his lips cutely as he pouts. His dark gray ears are flattened and turned outwards, and Chanyeol curses the day Baekhyun convinced him a cat would be good for him.

'You need some friends,' Baekhyun assured him.

Baekhyun knew he was allergic to cats. Chanyeol had protested vehemently, but it was definitely love at first sight when Baekhyun'd brought the small cat home, tiny frame curled up on Baek's back. Chanyeol'd been sure he was a kitten, due to his size, but Baekhyun explained that he'd been sitting at the shelter he volunteered in for weeks; nobody wanted to adopt adult cats these days.

Chanyeol couldn't say no if he tried.

They were a month in, and Chanyeol was miserable, snotting all over his sleeves, sneezing left and right. No amount of benadryl could allow him to tolerate Jongdae's constant shedding, hair on every surface he chose to curl up on, and every time Chanyeol caught him scratching at a doorframe, he was pretty sure he was going to rip his own hair out.

He'd threatened to shave Jongdae once and earned a hiss every time he passed the cat for a week straight.

Chanyeol sighs, watching the other with his snotty tissues hanging from his nose, and can't help the guilt creeping at his gut. Jongdae's curled up childishly on his side of the couch, Chanyeol's loose tshirt clinging to his tiny frame, lithe legs bare and poking out from beneath, tail curled around one of them.

If only to get rid of the guilt, he reaches out to take one of the feline's wrists, tugging quietly. Jongdae immediately perks up, quickly climbing into Chanyeol's lap and turning a few times until he's comfortable, plopping down and pooling his sharp cheek in the taller boy's shoulder. His purr is deafening, and Chanyeol fights the urge to sneeze.

Jongdae begins to knead at Chanyeol's chest, and his sharp claws feel like tiny needles, earning a smack of protest from the brunette. "Stop that, it hurts," he whines.

Jongdae growls, wrinkling his nose, but soon resorts to purring once more, batting playfully at the tissues hanging from Chanyeol's nose to amuse himself. Rolling his eyes, Chanyeol reaches up to scratch the cat softly behind his ears, the bell at his throat tinkling gently.

"You're lucky I love you..." Chanyeol mutters, earning a pleased yawn from his cat, who snuggles up against his neck for a nap. "I'm positively miserable."

"I'm not, and that's all that matters, really," Jongdae replies, ever so snarky. Chanyeol wrinkles his nose and pinches the other's scruff, causing him to slacken completely.

"One of these days I'm going to shave all your hair off, you little brat," he grumbles. Jongdae glares at him defiantly, otherwise placent. When Chanyeol releases his neck, he purposely digs his claws into the other's side, curling back up.

"Ow," Chanyeol complains to no avail.

[venuma-blog]

field goal

"jongdae!" luhan cries out across the field after the game, muddy soccer ball tucked under her arm. her hair's matted and there's specks of dirt and mud skittering across her face like freckles, and jongdae waves her over from the dryness beneath his umbrella. 

"can't you call me oppa?" he teases playfully, and luhan laughs, and jongdae feels his insides crumble into dust. she has this unique laugh, jaw practically unhinging and disappearing, eyes crinkling up, and the noise more of a guff-haw, and yet jongdae's head over heels in love with that sight. 

"when you get taller than me, maybe~," luhan teases, eyes twinkling.

"aish, noona..." jongdae mumbles, inching closer to shield luhan from the rain as well; her uniform is starting to stick to her frame and that's a sight that should only be for him. "i look so uncool though! we look like just friends!"

luhan merely laughs again, leaning forward to kiss jongdae's cheek, leaving behind some mud in her wake. "we're more than friends~," she assures him playfully. 

"are we?" jongdae grins, unable to stop, not even bothering to wipe the mud off.

"yeah...we're best friends," luhan beams.