exomeme | part seventy three

part seventy three

EUREUREONG（●＾o＾●）

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leaving this here for anons who wanted to follow the story anyway?? idk :( pls come back 2 us hgmod :(

man i left to write this and then armageddon had happened damn

1310w

Baekhyun almost takes it back after the first week. Kai spending less time risking his life out in the field means him spending more time bothering Baekhyun in the office, trying to engage him in conversation when he's in the middle of following a lead for Jongdae, or needling him for information about the people who are targeting K. The worst part about that is that Baekhyun doesn't really have an answer for him.

He isn't used to being thwarted like this; he's exhausted most of his contacts by the beginning of October, and there's absolutely nothing. Not a peep from China, or Hong Kong, or Thailand. All quiet on the Asian front. The only things he has as definitive evidence are the bullet that went through Yixing's leg (.45 caliber round from an M1911A1 pistol) and the lab report on Sehun and Zitao's package. Pretty standard-issue home-made pipe bomb. No recognizable signatures at all.

It's unbelievably infuriating, and Kai's hovering presence doesn't do much for Baekhyun's concentration. Kai, he realizes, is the kind of person who can't keep still unless he's attacking something with single-minded focus. In Baekhyun's office, he flip-flops on the couch, limbs spread gracefully across the leather, or mills in and out the door in between check-ups on the other hitmen.

Baekhyun finally puts his foot down at the end of the eighth working day, when Kai barrels in sweaty and flushed and starts chattering about a sparring session he'd had with Zitao in the basement. Baekhyun's been chasing after a fruitless lead since noon, and he's feeling the frustration deep in his bones.

"Hey," he snaps, as Kai presses his hip into the corner of Baekhyun's desk and takes a breath mid-word. "Please shut the fuck up."

Kai's face doesn't change, but the air between them stiffens a little, pulls taut.

Baekhyun slides a hand over his face. "Sorry, I just—you're interrupting my work."

Kai glances at the digital clock next to his mouse. "You've been working for the past sixteen hours," he says, rounding the desk to stand behind Baekhyun's chair. "Probably staring at the same spreadsheet for the last five till your eyes crossed, right?"

Baekhyun draws his shoulders in instinctively, the back of his neck prickling. He opens his mouth to let a cutting remark fly, but—

Kai's touching him with purpose, thumbs digging into the soft flesh underneath his bony shoulder blades, other four fingers curling in against his nape. Baekhyun shudders, twisting in on himself even more. "I think you need to loosen up, hyung," he says, rolling his palm. "Look. You're so tense."

Only because you're touching my neck, Baekhyun wants to retort, but then Kai's fingers are pressing in even more insistently, like he's trying to burrow them through Baekhyun's torso and out his collarbones, and Baekhyun's mouth drops open, wet and silent.

Kai works quickly, irons out the dense knots in the muscle with a sort of methodological tenacity that leaves Baekhyun a little breathless. His eyes half-close, skin warming underneath Kai's palms, until it seems like the only things anchoring him down to earth anymore are the points of contact between their bodies. Like if Kai let go Baekhyun would float away, or dissolve into nothing.

And then his hand moves to the knob of Baekhyun's spine, right at the base of his neck. "Ohhh," Baekhyun moans, head falling forward, "my God."

Kai's curl of laughter skates over the shell of Baekhyun's ear. "Feel good?"

"Nngh."

He laughs again, gives Baekhyun's neck one more squeeze, and lets go.

Baekhyun's about to make a noise of protest when Kai spins his desk chair around and bends at the waist so their faces are level. Also about a centimeter apart. Baekhyun inhales sharply. Kai's been living at his house for the better part of two months and he's never been this close before. So close they're breathing each other's air. So close Baekhyun can count his individual eyelashes as they curl up against his lids, irises so dark they blend in with his pupils.

Baekhyun's tongue darts out to wet his lips. Jongin's gaze darts down to follow its trajectory across the bow of Baekhyun's mouth before looking up again. Waiting.

For a minute, neither of them moves. Baekhyun struggles through the haze of post-massage lethargy, trying to screw his head back on straight. He isn't stupid. There's no question what this is. The most action he's gotten in the past nine months has been on the subway during his morning commute to work, jostling in between other bodies in the rush hour frenzy. This is a bad idea, he thinks, really, really bad, and he runs the tip of his tongue over his lips again, watches Jongin watch it, thinks, can't afford the luxury of getting attached, chest rising and falling in earnest now, Jongin's plush mouth tilting up as he looks at Baekhyun, just looks—

Fuck, he thinks. He reaches up to fist his hand in the material of Kai's damp shirt and pulls him down.

Kai slides into Baekhyun's lap, knees clamped around Baekhyun's hips, and Baekhyun grunts into his mouth. Kai slides his tongue in past the seam, curls it up into the roof, and laves it right over the spot where Baekhyun's most ticklish. Baekhyun makes another loud noise, tongue nudging at Kai's gums. Kai settles over him like a blanket and Baekhyun bucks up, already a little hard, and breaks the kiss for a second to mumble, "You big lug, you're too heavy for this—"

He cuts off with a gasp when Kai bends his head down to give Baekhyun's neck the same treatment, kisses up to the underside of his chin, hands roving over Baekhyun's torso underneath his shirt.

"Fuck," he says aloud, body thrumming with energy.

"Are you offering?" Kai says, and then has the gall to duck his head like he's embarrassed. It's so unexpectedly characteristic that Baekhyun's mind stalls out for a second, trying to integrate it into the Paradigm of Kai that he's built up. Nope, doesn't work. Short-circuits. But that's okay, because a second later Kai tosses his own shirt onto the floor and unzips Baekhyun's slacks, and he doesn't really have to think about much anymore.

Kai gives handjobs the same way he doles out backrubs: with dogged focus and a measured pace, just flirting with the edge of too slow. He props his head against Baekhyun's shoulder and pumps his arm, holds Baekhyun down when he tries to thrust up into the circle of his fingers. "Come on," Baekhyun wines, voice cracking. He's losing circulation in his legs but the roiling in his abdomen's building up to a crescendo. He tosses his head back into the desk chair and grabs Kai's waist with both hands as he comes, digs his nails into the hard flesh.

Kai swallows the last of Baekhyun's breath with his mouth. His hard-on's pressing against Baekhyun's thigh through the fabric of their pants, and he's rutting shallowly as Baekhyun recovers from his orgasm, tight movements of his hips. Baekhyun curls his fingers over the waistband of Kai's sweats and reaches down with his other hand to jerk him off. It doesn't take long. Kai crushes Baekhyun into the chair when he spills in his hand, mouthing a wet kiss into Baekhyun's clothed shoulder.

When Kai leans back again, panting, his eyes are drooping dangerously. He slides off Baekhyun's lap and lifts him without preamble. Baekhyun yelps a little as Kai dumps him on the couch and arranges himself carefully over him, an actual blanket this time. "I still have work to do," he says weakly, trying to squirm out.

"Later," Kai says, and promptly falls into the first deep sleep Baekhyun's seen him in since he first arrived in August, breathing slow and deep. Baekhyun tries to fight it—he has things to do, dammit—but despite his best efforts, he follows soon after.

*____* i love you

:***

sleep handjobs ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you

n___n keke :*

well...i still want it

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part seventy three

HG: hitman au pt 7 aka da porn interlude (team baek)

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