thanh (misspause) wrote in amology,

see if i care

sehun solo!fic
(with mentions of sehun/exo12 and discernable chanhun)
nc-17, 3.5k
basically sehun fucking himself with a dildo

not exactly set on sehun's bday but hey

They say cats get into heat when the weather warms.

Well, Sehun is sure as hell not a cat, but at this point he might as well be. He doesn’t know what’s happened to him. He wasn’t even like this when he was sixteen and everybody he knew was jerking off to something.

He feels warm—No, he feels hot.

It’s all over him under his skin, some micro lightning sparks. His chest is heaving like he’s just finished a session in the dance room trying to battle Jongin to the floor, and his head feels light and hazy. With much reluctance he stacks up the pillows sporadically against the headboard and tries to push himself up.

God, he feels sticky all over.

His dick is still fucking hard on his stomach. Sehun wants to laugh and he actually does, deliriously, (let Chanyeol next door think he’s watching some skit on his laptop or something) because he’s been tugging at his dick for the past hour to nothing in particular and he’s come a grand total of three times. And it’s still fucking hard.

Thank God Joonmyun fell asleep at the studio.

Sehun finds himself palming at his balls again, he doesn’t know if it’s for reprieve or to calm himself, but the touch has the air punched out of his chest already. Probably he should take a cold shower but there are like six other guys outside his room and he doesn’t want to risk it. After the MuCore rehearsal Jongdae held a chilled can of green tea fresh out of the vending machine to his nape and he automatically curled up in shock because his dick decided to call for attention out of the blue. For once he had to be glad Jongdae was always a butt guy so he never really paid attention to Sehun’s front parts. And there’s that time like thirty seconds after when Kyungsoo brushed the back of his knees with his calf. Yeah, that’s pathetic.

Anyways, Sehun doesn’t think he should be allowed near any of the members at the moment.

Great. Now he’s thinking of the members. Sehun tries to will the thought away but it’s difficult, especially when his thumb is digging to a line of vein on his shaft, the other four fingers making an upwards stroking motion. Fucking thing so slick from precum he doesn’t even need anymore of that lotion. Not that it’s out of reach or anything. It’s next to his head because Sehun’s toppled a new low this day in April.

He flicks his wrist and bites his lips at the upstroke, legs falling open, but it isn’t enough. He’s done this three times already. It isn’t enough.

Grunting, Sehun pulls himself to the edge of the mattress, reaching for the drawers below the bed frame. It’s the one next to where he keeps his passport and ID photocopies because it’s always the darkest under the lamp, right. (Yeah right, his manager found it once and Sehun glare was so powerful he stayed mute the whole dinner meet.)

His collection isn’t impressive or anything. But there’s that one. Sehun lets out a relieved sigh when he finds that it’s still full, because he doesn’t want to settle for anything else and he’s too far gone to get up and fill it with liquefied Nivea over the sink. He saw it when Baekhyun and Jongdae were giggling on the van seat in front of him, browsing through an online sex store catalog, which was a galore of bizarre dildos and Big Bang-colored vibrators.

“What the actual—” Jongdae had blurted, cackling in mirth the very next second. Baekhyun lost it beside him, so Sehun just had to take a peek. On screen it was hilarious and all, squirting dildo whatever the fuck it was. Initially for Baekhyun’s birthday, Sehun had ordered the black one to prank him, but one thing led to another and Baekhyun got a gudetama tissue cozy instead—which came complementary of the dildo, so.

Leaning back against the nest of pillows he’s piled up, Sehun pants like he’s just wrapped up a concert. He’s tired and sore all over but he’s still so hard that it hurts if he ignores it. He drags his left knee up to his chest, hand reaching below to his hole. It’s still damp from his second round when he was on his knees on the bed, ass up while he got four fingers deep inside himself, pulling at his cock almost frantically. Sehun laughs again at the recollection, more breathlessly this time as he pushes his thumb past the rim. He doesn’t use lube when it’s himself, but he does waste a ton of lotion.

Self-love, Hun-ah, he thinks to himself, laughing again. If Chanyeol (or Baekhyun) in the next room hasn’t thought he’s watching some comedy in his laptop right now, headphones on and everything, they probably do now.

Sehun draws his thumb out and replaces it with his index and middle finger, prodding around for that spot he’s intimately acquainted with. Being a trainee for a great portion of his teenage years left him in his own arms, really. Fingering himself used to peeve him, homophobia and whatnot. But yeah, he grew. Met some people. Ended up on an empty dressing room in Shanghai with one of the cameramen. Sort of came into terms with his sexuality after he learnt how good it felt taking it up the ass. Clichéd, he knows.

He plays with his ass a lot after that. It was embarrassing at first, but it felt so good. He likes the thrill, he guesses, of being opened up so carefully, the feeling of fingers stretching out his walls, of feeling himself inside. Sehun thumbs his slit, holds his cock still on his belly to stave off his dizzying high, to focus on his two fingers scissoring him open. His legs are spread wide and in this position he’s so, so submissive.

But there’s nobody to take him. Sehun is alone. The room seems to unconventionally expands as the loneliness breezes by.

Sorry, Sehun thinks, but when it’s fingers he thinks of Kris. He can’t help it. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it. Kris pinning him into the mattress, his huge hand on the back of Sehun’s thigh, holding Sehun open for him. He knows Kris, so he knows how Kris is a big softie despite everything. Kris would kiss the side of his knee, down his thigh as he works Sehun open and fuck, his fingers are so big, the stretch would burn despite how much lube Kris uses, the kind that blurs the line between pain and pleasure. Sehun would urge him on, hyung, hyung please, and if they’re alone he’d be able to moan out loud, beg for more, his hips moving on their own accord. Right now, Sehun imagines him, imagines Kris on top of him, pulling him apart with his fingers patiently, whispering to his ears how he’s doing so good, how he’s taking it so well.

He’s got three in, now, more of pressing at his prostate persistently rather than opening himself up. He doesn’t need to, doesn’t even need to add anymore lotion, he’s stretched himself plenty, and the flesh around his fingers are searing hot. Sehun bites off his whine, pushing himself up on the pillows as the fingers reach deeper inside him. He gives himself a couple of strokes to ease the heat that’s crawling up to his head now, but two turns into three and then four as he starts moving his hips to meet the erratic speed.

He’s on edge when he stops immediately, gathering the scarce semblance of self control he’s got left. Sehun’s breathing heavily, and he pulls his fingers out, wiping it on the inside of his thigh, squirming at the loss and that cool spot he’s smeared on his thigh. He paws the bed for the dildo. It’s always at these reveries that he becomes a total mess, breathing ruined by the impatience and everything. He squirts some of the lotion (ah shit, it’s the expensive one he’s just noticed now) onto his hand and slicks the dildo up.

God, he always realizes it at times like this when it’s all up in his face that fuck, it’s big. After all he picked the biggest available because Baekhyun, right. The whole thing was supposed to be a joke and now it backfired on him. Like Sehun doesn’t even know anybody this big, and he’s showered with a minimum of 12 guys (members plus his brother) in his lifetime. At least he didn’t get the realistic one, else he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. This one’s jet black, and the contrast with his pale skin is pretty, no matter how vain that sounds. He squeezes the hard plastic and thinks to hell with it when he licks the juncture underneath the crown. It’s bitter, lotion and everything, but Sehun’s too fucking thirsty to care.

He spreads himself even wider, one hand locked behind his knee. He nudges the head of the dildo against his hole, holding it steady with his free hand. Slowly, slowly, he coaxes the head in, holding his breath. It’s himself so he’s familiar with his limits, pushing it in an unhurried pace. Halfway in, he releases his breath, exhaling and inhaling heavily. Like this, with himself, Sehun can feel it, how tight his walls are yet how they give in beautifully when he keeps pushing in, filling himself. Sehun takes some time when it’s fully sheathed, more than usual because what he’s already done’s gotten him too supple and sensitive down there. His shirt, he’s only aware of it now, is rumpled on his armpits, and he frees both his hands momentarily to strip it off as the heat gets unbearable. He stuffs a part that isn’t covered in sweat in his mouth because he’s going to need it.

Stretching his legs out, he tucks both in again to fold himself in half. The dildo’s slipped out a bit, so he grips the flared base to thrust it back in. He tries shallow thrusts first, testing himself. The feeling’s there. Too much sometimes, like he’s being torn in half. He loves it. If he isn’t too tired he’d put it up on the mattress and ride it until he sees stars behind his eyelids and his legs give in, or if his knees aren’t abused already he’ll do it on all fours. Those options are however crossed out because he’s exhausted, so Sehun’s left with this, splayed on his back, bare for the world if anybody just so much as walk in. The position’s always been too revealing for his liking, but right now he couldn’t care less. Anything to get him his fill.

The door’s locked, though. That doesn’t mean he can’t visualize it, Sehun laughs again. He picks up the pace a bit and the weight of the dildo only comes to him now, how heavy it is inside him, inhumanly stiff. It’s still not flesh, so it’s cold. Almost like ice, the cold on top of how hot his whole body is becoming scalding. Even so he shoves it inside himself, searching for that one angle. It doesn’t take himself long, what with the years of experimenting. Purposely, he punches the headboard behind him hard when he hits his prostate right on the spot, something to mask the muffled moan he knew he wouldn’t be able to restrain.

Fuck cares what Chanyeol or Baekhyun thinks.

He’s no more bullshit then. His whole body is tired, his skin flushed red from the endless rounds he’s done to himself. He feels it tight down to his toes when he starts genuinely thrusting it inside him, just at the perfect angle, just as he knows, just as he likes. The fit is snug now instead of intrusive and Sehun wishes he can see it, stark black between his round, pale cheeks. It’s narcissistic, he admits, but his dick twitches at the thought, screaming for attention after being neglected so long.

Shit, his breathing is so loud. The dildo’s usually way too big but now it’s spearing him open perfectly, so full inside of him, he gets off on the stretch as much as how faultless it is against his prostate. His mouth is open, gasping, and the shirt simply doesn’t do its job anymore, slipping out. One particularly hard thrust hauls a scream from him. What’s worse is that he doesn’t realize what he’s done until a jarring crash sounds out from the room beside.

“Fuck,” he thinks, but it comes in Chanyeol’s voice.

Sehun quiets, swallowing his own breathing. He grasps onto his hair to just, gather, himself. Collect himself in one piece because he’s all over the place right now and he doesn’t make anymore noise but he doesn’t even think to stop, slamming the dildo into himself in a fervent chase. The door to the room next door opens, he can hear it so clearly, fuck. He slows immediately, catches a breath, but he still doesn’t stop, working it inside himself in slight thrusts. Baekhyun’s voice, this time. What the fu—but the ends of it are muffled. Chanyeol’s probably thrown a pillow at him. Shit get out, Baek, scram, he hears Chanyeol yell, uncharacteristically riled up. Baekhyun grumbles what’s your problem but the door bangs shut nevertheless.

There’s a rustle then, and Sehun can picture it, Chanyeol throwing himself back onto the bed. Sehun laughs again, out of nowhere. He’s supposed to get blue balls from it but right now the whole thing’s comedy gold. He laughs with no attention to volume and he knows Chanyeol hears him.

He runs out of breath in no time, though. Chanyeol, huh. He doesn’t know how Chanyeol would fuck. Although he’d rather die seven times over than admit it, Sehun’s put all of the members in this little situation of his before. He doesn’t have any romantic attachment towards them, and every desire he has evaporates the moment he finishes, making room for guilt to set in. That’s what happens when you’re far from straight and are around a handful of other guys all the time. Shower time is limited and there’s practically no vacant time to stare at internet porn to properly jack off like other guys. He’s adapted to slipping his hand beneath his boxers incognito under the covers.

But it’s never enough.

And Joonmyun. Joonmyun’s always been just there on the other bed. The way his chest rises and falls is so real and it’s so easy to imagine him kicking his blankets aside, crawling into Sehun’s bed with his dry palm around Sehun’s cock, of him whispering be quiet to Sehun’s ear as he presses Sehun’s head down to his pillow, of him fucking Sehun there on his stomach under the sheets.

There’s Lu Han, too. They used to be all over each other. It didn’t come as a surprise to him when the image of Lu Han’s delicate face comes to him during these times, how those strong thighs would feel fucking him into a hotel bed, how those big eyes would watch him shiver at every slap of skin.

After that he’s lost all traces of shame he thinks. When he wants it strong and fast he thinks of Zitao doing him against the dancing room mirror, his hands grappling for purchase down Zitao’s back, of Minseok pinning his wrists together as he pounds his cock inside Sehun’s ass. When he wants control it’s Jongin, devouring that pretty lips of his while Sehun rides him mercilessly, the same thing to Jongdae but nicer, kinder, with praises of how perfect Jongdae is inside him. When it’s the opposite of control then Kyungsoo, of him having Sehun raw on the floor of the dorm’s common room, too much in haste that they haven’t even stripped off anything, Sehun’s jeans pooled down on his knees. Or Baekhyun, those hands slapping the back of his thighs and his ass red as he rips Sehun apart over the coffee table.

When he’s loneliest, weakest, when he’s stocked up to the brim with love until it’s overflowing, then it’s Yixing. Yixing spreading him on the patio of his old house, holding his hands while he thrusts into Sehun languidly. Kris is, Kris is gentle, too. He’d be careful, because Sehun is young, and he’ll ask every five seconds how Sehun feels, making sure that it’s good for him.

Then there’s Chanyeol.

Sehun never thinks of Chanyeol. There’s still some guilt that latches onto Chanyeol, maybe that’s why. Because Chanyeol’s been there forever, ever since Sehun’s a middle school kid awkward in his own skin. Chanyeol is his childhood and Sehun doesn’t want to shatter that.

But now. “Chanyeol,” he calls. He knows that Chanyeol can hear him. And he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t know what’s happened to him today. Chanyeol is fire, right? It’s fire, too, under Sehun’s skin.

He’s hyperaware of the dildo inside him, its pressure, how it breaches him, how he’s so open right now, for anybody who walks, for Chanyeol.

Chanyeol.” Sehun moans and there’s no way Chanyeol doesn’t hear him now. He drags the dildo out until only the head is inside him, only to shove it back in place the very next moment. He retrieves the pace he’s set before the interference next door, shunting the black dildo into him again and again until he feels way too much but way too lacking as well. He imagines Chanyeol there, Chanyeol right above him. Chanyeol bites his cheek before kissing him full on the lips, his hands on Sehun’s ankles opening him up wider just so he can thrust in faster, deeper. Chanyeol will be warm, unlike this thing. He’ll be hot and he’ll know Sehun better than Sehun does, knows which angle drives Sehun mad, how to circle his hips and rams his cock in, hushing Sehun all the while. I got you baby, I got you.

Chanyeol, Chanyeol.” Sehun moans for him, again and again. He’s stroking his cock at the same pace he drives the dildo inside him, twisting it just the right way. He’s so fucking close, his thighs tightening from the strain, and he clicks the switch at the base of the dildo.

Sehun holds it still, keening when he feels the liquid gushing inside him, filling him with that warmth. (Chanyeol, it’s still Chanyeol.) It only takes one, two more desperate strokes until he’s coming all over his stomach. His orgasm hits him hard that time, knocks the breath out of him while he milks himself dry, Chanyeol’s name remaining on his tongue along with a litany of pleases. Eventually, the high passes and everything is still, for a while. The only thing Sehun hears is his own heavy panting.

It’s done, right?

It’s done.

Whatever gets him fucking hard surrenders because he’s just exhausted now, not bothered and unsatisfied like his previous rounds. He pulls the dildo out of him with a whimper, leaving a line of the Nivea he filled it with on his ass cheek. Sehun feels like he’s been run over by a truck and he seriously doesn’t need any more of this shit for three days, at least. He stretches his legs out and kicks everything out of the bed except one huge pillow and curls up, falling asleep instantly.

The next morning he heads out of the shower forgetting his goddamn pants. Thank God the sweater he picked out randomly used to be Kris’ because he tugs it down as low as he can on his thighs before he subtly turns the knob.

Or not so subtle. Because the second he walks out a mug smashes onto the floor.

Chanyeol’s face is the color of a stoplight when Sehun sees him right next to the bathroom door. He chokes on his drink and scrambles out of the scene, leaving Sehun in front of a sticky puddle of hot coffee waiting for the guilt to knock.

Oh hey, it doesn’t come.

Tags: f: exo, r: nc-17, shortfic, solo: sehun
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