seventeen oneshots

can't get off, can't get over (soonseok)

LINK:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12134679

Summary:

"You know, Soonyoung is pretty cool. He doesn't look like someone who'd be bad at sex." Mingyu pauses, contemplative. "Then again, Seokmin doesn't look like someone who'd be a horndog."

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There are a few things to be said here.

Firstly, Seokmin is not a coward. He's just waiting for the right time. And with Soonyoung, there never seems to be one. He's almost always busy, with remedial classes, basketball practice, student council duties (how he's the treasurer when his Maths grades are as bad as Seokmin's, no one knows). Then, when they do get time together, Soonyoung's out here running his mouth with stuff like, "God, I've wanted to do this for such a long time Seoku." And he always says it with such tender, sweet inflection on Seoku, that even in the janitor's closet with Soonyoung's fingers making quick work of Seokmin's pants, Seokmin just can't find within himself the cynicism to argue.

Secondly, and currently the most pressing issue, Soonyoung's blow job technique is, well...lacking, to say the least. It had never occurred to Seokmin that there was any bad way for a mouth and penis to communicate, but goddamn, Soonyoung's teeth are scraping against Seokmin's skin like he's trying to clean the burnt bits off the bottom of a baking tin.

Soonyoung pulls off Seokmin's dick with a pop, and stares up at him with a smile that raises his cheeks so high, that he looks like too many pure and adorable things that shouldn't ever be associated with someone who has Seokmin's precum smeared all over over their lips.

"That feel good?" Soonyoung asks, voice low and raspy.

Seokmin's dick is sore, his arms are also sore from holding himself up in the cramped space, and his tongue quivers, like it'd rather shrivel up and die than say the words Seokmin knows he should say.

"Yeah." Seokmin swallows, braces himself and gives Soonyoung a full-toothed smile. "It feels so good."

Thirdly—

Alright, maybe Seokmin is a bit of a coward.

"He's using you, man," Mingyu says, pointing at Seokmin with a celery stick. He flips it towards his mouth and bites into it with a crunch. Seokmin winces and clenches his legs together, a Pavlovian response. "You gotta end it. I'm telling you, that entire group is no good and shouldn't be trusted."

"We get it, you hate Wonwoo," Minghao says, disinterested as he peels the cling wrap off his sandwich. "But really, Seokmin. What's the point of having a friends with benefits relationship if you're barely friends, and the benefits suck?"

"We are friends," Seokmin whines. Maybe it's not like before, the way it used to be in middle school. Back then they had their own handshake, and were so inseparable that if one of them was put in detention, the other would voluntarily attend just to keep company. But they've been getting better this year. Even though it's Soonyoung's final year of high school, and genitals have somehow gotten involved. "And it's not all bad. He's a good kisser. I like sucking him, when he lets me. His face when he comes is hot, I—"

"Oh, ewwww!" Mingyu cries. At the same time, Minghao drops his sandwich on the table and deadpans: "I've lost my appetite."

"What is wrong with you, Seokmin?" Mingyu asks. "Is this a HBO show? We're in the middle of the cafeteria, you vulgar freak."

"Sorry," Seokmin mumbles, blushing. He stares into the space between Mingyu and Minghao, where he can spot Soonyoung sitting two tables behind them with his usual posse. Soonyoung's turned towards him, drawn by Mingyu's five thousand decibel scream that had almost made a passing frosh drop her lunch tray. Soonyoung juts his chin up and lifts both hands, gesturing 'What's wrong?'