Work Text:
Let's ride.
? im busy
Not anymore.
ugh
just give me an hour
No.
Oppa's here now. Get dressed and come outside.
~
Jaemin drives like an asshole.
On single lane highways, he passes slower cars on blind corners and speeds around sharp curves at high speeds to throw Chenle around in the passenger seat. He feeds off Chenle’s squeals of fear and peals of laughter, manic glee pulsing off him every time they ride together.
On wider freeways, he’s worse. He swerves between lanes, cutting through slots of traffic that Chenle is always sure won’t fit his sleek car. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t crashed yet, that he hasn’t totaled this beautiful car with Chenle right beside him. He drives like he’s playing a game, like laws are just suggestions and death is a prize to race everyone else for.
Sometimes, when they’re just driving through town, someone will pull up next to them at a light and Jaemin will get this glint in his eye. He’ll look at Chenle with a crooked grin and ask, “Should we give ‘em a little pull?”
Chenle always says yes. He likes to feel the car rumble under him, the force of the acceleration pushing him back into his seat and almost pressing the breath out of his lungs. But, mostly, he likes to see how Jaemin’s fingers curl over the shifter, how he grips the steering wheel as he races away from whoever decided to get into a dick measuring contest with him.
Jaemin drives like an asshole, and is kind of an asshole, and Chenle fucking loves it.
That’s why he abandons all his “plans” for the rest of the evening (pretending to do homework, playing League, jerking off) to climb into his car and cruise up Highway One.
Jaemin’s car costs more than his tuition, but he always lets Chenle kick his shoes up onto the dashboard and pick the music and play it loud. They drive with the windows down, sea salt stinging their noses, rays of sunset piercing through the windshield. Jaemin drifts around the corners like he always does and Chenle howls like a jackal, burning with glee so hot it feels more like panic.
They crest the cliffs. The ocean spreads out on their left side and Chenle leans over the center console to watch the waves ripple far below them. Jaemin smells like sandalwood and salon-grade hair product. He lets go of the gear shift to put his hand on Chenle’s thigh, long fingers teasing the edge of his basketball shorts. Chenle lets him touch, doesn’t try to play coy. He’s horny and his heart is racing from Jaemin speeding and their favorite destination is only a couple miles ahead.
He leans back in his seat and sticks his hand out the window, letting it be buoyed by the rush of air. His head lolls, vision sliding across the red rock cliffs and the ocean, to Jaemin beside him. His hair is tousled by the wind, dark sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose, a smirk pinned at his mouth. He always looks like this when he’s driving, smug and confident, dressed in all black to match his paint job, hand draped casually around the steering wheel, muscles in his arms flexing as he made little adjustments on this long stretch of straight road.
Jaemin exits onto a thin strip of poorly paved road. He swerves around potholes, grinning and swinging into the opposite lane with no one around to see. “Oppa!” Chenle screeches, half laughing and breathless. Jaemin lets go of his leg to downshift, cruising along the last section of road until they come to their deserted look out.
In all the times that Jaemin has brought him here, Chenle has never seen another person. It makes it feel like this place is theirs and theirs alone. When he’s here, Chenle can trick himself into thinking that no one else knows about this place, their place, up in the hills, with the sea at their backs and the sun dyeing the sky pink and indigo. The beautiful, empty place where Jaemin parks his car, slides his seat back, and drags Chenle into his lap.
“Ow, fuck.” Chenle bangs his knee on the console and gets his foot stuck in the door pocket. Jaemin keeps him steady, one hand on his hip, the other grabbing for the lever of his seat so he can lean back. Chenle stares into the reflective lenses of Jaemin’s shades and then pushes them up into his hair. “Hey,” he says, pushing closer, hands sliding to the back of his neck.
Chenle always knew he could be shameless and bold and greedy, but he never knew how much worse he could get until he met Jaemin—someone just as shameless and bold and greedy, who wanted all the same things and usually took them without asking.
“Baby,” Jaemin says, both of his hands are on Chenle now, and his dark eyes are shining in the shimmering sunlight bouncing between the sheer rock faces. “Missed you.”
Chenle rolls his eyes. “You saw me two days ago.” Still, his cheeks are warm, maybe a little pink. He leans in so Jaemin can’t see.
Their mouths slide together as easy as breathing and Chenle forgets everything else. He forgets the overwhelming desire he just saw in Jaemin’s eyes, forgets the questions of exclusivity and dating that neither of them have asked or answered yet. His entire world narrows down to Jaemin’s mouth, his hands, the nip of his teeth and the promise of messy raw heat. Things have always been like this with Jaemin, from the moment they met at that shitty dive bar downtown and Jaemin pushed his tongue into his mouth in a shadowy corner, tasting like mint gum, and then put his mouth against his ear and whispered, “Wanna go for a drive?”
Nothing else exists when Chenle is in Jaemin’s car, in his lap, feeling his long fingers tease under the back of his shirt while Chenle sucks on his tongue. “Touch me,” he says, lifting his hands to cradle Jaemin’s face, feeling the cut of his jaw against his palms.
Jaemin pushes his hands up Chenle’s shirt. He tilts his head and sucks on Chenle’s bottom lip, delicate fingers feeling out the curves of his hips, the bolts of his spine. One time, Jaemin picked him up after working on his car for a while. He smelled like engine grease and sweat, fingers leaving dirty prints on Chenle’s clothes, his body. He had to prep himself while Jaemin hunched over him in the back seat staring, but it was worth it for the filthy handprints left on his waist after Jaemin fucked him from behind.
Otherwise, Jaemin’s hands are soft and clean, fingernails rounded and cut short. He touches Chenle in all the right places, pinching his hips, cupping his ribs, reaching high to thumb at his nipples. Chenle rolls in his lap, one long sinuous line of heat, the tip of his tongue touching Jaemin’s, a moan reverberating between their mouths as he grinds down on the bulge in Jaemin’s jeans.
“Fuck, you want it?” Jaemin asks. His breath is hot against Chenle’s mouth, lips scorching as he kisses along his jaw, to the sensitive spot behind his ear. “I didn’t even roll the windows up.”
“Good,” Chenle says. He pushes his hands up into Jaemin’s hair, biting down on a whine as Jaemin bites his earlobe. His arms are up under Chenle’s baggy shirt, pulling him close, fingers spread over his shoulder blades. “No one’s gonna hear.” He yanks on Jaemin’s hair to hear him moan, high and pretty.
“They’d be lucky if they did,” Jaemin says. He leans back into the cup of Chenle’s palms, showing off a sleazy grin as he grinds up against his ass. “You moan prettier than any girl I’ve ever fucked.”
Chenle rolls his eyes—as if that’ll be enough to distract from the riotous blush painting his cheeks and ears—and pulls harder on Jaemin’s hair. His eyelids flutter and he pushes his tongue against his bottom lip and Chenle kisses him instead of thinking up a bitchy reply. This kiss is all teeth and tongue, Chenle pulling at Jaemin and Jaemin rocking up against him, one hand plucking at his nipple while the other sneaks down between Chenle’s legs.
“You’re hard,” Jaemin murmurs. His chin is wet with spit and Chenle resists the urge to lick it off.
He ruts lazily into Jaemin’s palm instead, letting the low-grade stimulation bubble in his veins. He’s always been a quick shot, but Jaemin knows that by now, knows how to get him right up to the edge without pushing him over or how to drag him straight through it and into another shivering, desperate round of pleasure. “So are you,” he says. He presses down into Jaemin’s lap, grins when he spreads his legs to meet him.
“You want it?” he asks again, fire in his eyes now. He pulls his hand out from under Chenle’s shirt to grip his hip, thumb digging hard into the crest of bone.
Chenle sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Jaemin just keeps staring at him, even while he squeezes at Chenle’s cock and balls, even when his fingers creep back to press at his taint. Chenle finally reaches down and grabs his wrist then, trying to keep Jaemin from spoiling the surprise. “Yeah,” he says. He pulls Jaemin’s hand, away from his groin to his knee, just below the edge of his shorts. “I want it.”
Jaemin takes the hint. His eyes are bright, curious, mouth tilted into a lazy grin. His dark gaze moves away from Chenle’s face, down his body, to where his cock is pushing at the front of his shorts, and where his own hand is pushing up the leg hole.
Chenle keeps his hand on Jaemin’s wrist, not holding him back or urging him on, just grounding himself as Jaemin’s hand rides higher and higher, the fabric of his shorts bunching up around his wrist. Chenle resists the urge to hide his face and makes sure to stare right at Jaemin as his fingers finally touch the edge of scalloped lace at Chenle’s hip.
Chenle is watching, so he sees Jaemin’s face ripple with shock. He hears the hitch of his breath and watches the jump of his eyebrows.
He blushes anyway, but he pushes down the embarrassment, refusing to act coy now that Jaemin has his hand up his shorts and his mouth is open, lips and tongue wet and wanting. Embarrassment is for later, when he’s alone in his bedroom and he can admit that he’s not nearly as brave as Jaemin thinks he is. Now, he tightens his sweaty grip around Jaemin’s wrist and makes him grab onto his hip properly. He shivers when Jaemin’s thumb creeps into the bend of his groin, feeling out the texture of the lace. It’s cheap, rough against his skin. Easy to tear, ready to replace.
Jaemin just keeps staring at him, shocked and obviously into it and a nervous laugh tumbles out of Chenle before he can swallow it. “What?” His voice squeaks a little bit. “You told me to get dressed,” he says. It’s the flimsiest possible excuse to hide behind, but it doesn’t matter.
“Yeah,” Jaemin murmurs. He jabs his thumb into the bend of his hip and Chenle jolts, a strangled little noise dragged out of his throat as Jaemin grins at him. His fingers flare over Chenle’s thigh, teasing at the sensitive skin right under his ass.
Chenle sucks in a sharp breath when Jaemin hooks the fingers of his other hand into the waistband of his shorts. “Let me see,” he says, as if he isn’t already pulling his shorts down to look.
Chenle’s hands spasm on his shoulders, a complaint disappearing off his tongue as Jaemin reaches around to properly squeeze his ass. His palm is big and hot, and his thumb slips under the edge of the panties and Chenle can barely swallow a whine in time. This shouldn’t be affecting him so much, Jaemin is barely touching him, but his eyes are glowing like hot coals as he stares at the bulge of Chenle’s cock under the lace and his brain is getting scrambled.
“Wow,” Jaemin says. His fingers creep back over Chenle’s ass, sliding closer to his cleft, bunching up the lace in his palm. He tugs at Chenle’s shorts, unhooking them from one of his hips. “They fit you so well.”
“Fuck off,” Chenle hisses. It had been his first thought too, when he first looked at himself in the mirror. His cock stayed tucked neatly under the lace once he adjusted it.
Jaemin rubs a finger against the wet lace clinging to Chenle’s tip and all his annoyance evaporates with another desperate stutter of his hips. “Jaemin,” he murmurs. He licks his lips and tries to press forward, then back, searching for more of his touch.
Jaemin clicks his tongue at him. “C’mon, baby. Ask me nicely.” He pulls his hand down out of Chenle’s shorts, cupping the curve of his waist over his loose shirt as he rubs Chenle’s slit.
Chenle swallows. Humiliation nips at him again, but desire quickly overwhelms it. “Oppa, please,” he murmurs, bending his voice into something kittenish and sweet. It works on Jaemin every time.
He groans and yanks Chenle’s shorts down below his ass, bunching them up around his knees. He squeezes Chenle’s cock once, hard and mean, before dragging him close and wrapping both his arms around him. Chenle wheezes, mouth hanging open as both of Jaemin’s big, hot hands grab at his ass. His hips jump forward, the tip of his cock rubbing against Jaemin’s body.
“That’s right, you’re so sweet for oppa. My good girl,” Jaemin purrs. His mouth is right next to Chenle’s ear, hot and damp.
Chenle squirms, fingers digging into Jaemin’s shoulders. “Do something, oppa,” he whines, letting himself tumble into petulance.
“Needy thing,” Jaemin says, but Chenle can hear the smile in his tone.
He jolts as Jaemin’s fingers curl over the middle of his panties and drag them to the side. “Oh—fuck, Jaemin,” Chenle gasps, rutting forward against him again.
Jaemin hums. He reaches up and sticks his fingers into his mouth, still right next to Chenle’s ear. He swirls them over his tongue, and between his cheeks, letting Chenle hear every filthy wet noise as he slicks them up. Chenle clings to Jaemin, a hand tight on the back of his neck, and still jolts forward when his spitty fingers touch his rim.
They both know there’s a bottle of lube in the glove box. Jaemin keeps touching him, slow teasing strokes of his fingers, just playing with the tight furl of Chenle’s hole. He doesn’t move toward the glove box. Neither does Jaemin.
His lips close around Chenle’s earlobe, teeth teasing the delicate skin and Chenle’s back arches. “Ah, unf, fuck,” he moans, toes curling in his sneakers. Jaemin hums. His fingers press harder, smearing more spit, almost trying to push inside before easing off.
“You’re tight,” Jaemin murmurs. His fingers drag lower, pressing hard against Chenle’s taint to make him yelp. “Haven’t been touching yourself?”
The fact that he knows, just from this, makes Chenle feel sick with desire. He shakes his head and moans when Jaemin’s teeth sink into the side of his neck. “Been busy,” he mumbles.
Jaemin jabs at his taint again, pressing a grin into Chenle’s skin before he returns to toying at his rim. “Still so sensitive. Shame I won’t be able to really feel it this time.”
Chenle whines, even though he knows it’s true. Last time they saw each other, Chenle opened Jaemin’s jeans while he was driving and took him so far down his throat that Jaemin had to pull over. He held him down over the center console and fucked his face, then threw him down into the back seat and licked him open until Chenle cried. The time before that, when Jaemin fucked him over the hood of his car, was weeks ago now. Chenle hasn’t had any time in between to play. And Jaemin is too big for him on a good day.
“Want it,” he whispers.
Jaemin hisses a groan into his neck and manages to tease the tip of a spit wet finger inside him. “Should’ve thought of that earlier.”
Chenle digs his nails into his nape. “Not like you gave me any time to prepare.”
“I would’ve waited if it meant you were fucking yourself open for me,” Jaemin murmurs. He crooks his thumb to rub Chenle’s taint again, stimulating his prostate from the outside, and Chenle keens. Jaemin’s telling the truth, Chenle knows he is, and that just makes it worse. He would’ve sat outside in his car while Chenle bit the corner of his pillow and fucked himself open with his favorite toy. He would’ve asked for a picture, and Chenle would’ve sent him one, before tucking himself into his panties and rushing downstairs into his passenger seat.
“Please,” Chenle moans now, arching his back and gasping against Jaemin’s ear. He can’t help himself. His prostate is so sensitive he basically cries every time Jaemin pushes inside him—even this is enough to have him squirming and whimpering for more, desperation twisting in his belly with every little press of Jaemin’s fingers. “More, oppa,” he whines, voice pitched to push all of Jaemin’s buttons.
Jaemin slips the tip of his finger out of Chenle. His mouth goes soft against his neck, kissing and sucking for a moment, before he gives in. “Get my cock out,” Jaemin says.
Chenle stays tucked close to him, lips still brushing his pulse, as his hands fumble down between their bodies. He rips at the button and drags Jaemin’s fly down, only gentling his hands as he hooks his finger into the waistband of Jaemin’s briefs and reaches in.
The bright heat in his belly cranks to a boil as he cups Jaemin’s cock. He’s hard and hot between Chenle’s fingers, dripping into his palm as he pulls his shaft past the elastic of his briefs and touches him. Jaemin’s chest rumbles with a moan, thumb nudging Chenle’s taint again, teeth scraping against the side of his neck.
“Come here,” he murmurs. His hand presses against Chenle’s back, forcing their bodies back together, pinning his wrist against Jaemin’s belly, while his cock slides back between his thighs.
“Oh—oh,” Chenle gasps, ribs tightening around his lungs, every thought disappearing out of his head as Jaemin reaches back down to angle the head of his cock against his rim. Compared to his fingers, it feels massive. Blunt and hot and wet, held in place with his fingers at Chenle’s tailbone.
Jaemin grunts, hips lifting, and his tip drags over Chenle’s rim. It bumps against his fingers and then slides back down Chenle’s cleft, back and back, until it rubs sticky hot pre-cum right behind his balls.
Chenle’s mouth is hanging open. He’s panting. Little moans escape his mouth with every filthy grind of Jaemin against him. He goes slow, keeping his aim, rubbing right on Chenle’s rim and grunting into his throat with every thrust. It’s nasty and wet and hot and the harsh skin on skin drag is so good without the artificial slick of lube. Jaemin’s hand is still fisted up in his panties, making the elastic cut harshly into his thigh, and squishing his cock tight against his body.
“Oppa, oppa.” Chenle finds himself moaning for Jaemin with every thrust, spit dripping out of his mouth, one hand still clinging to his shoulder while the other is trapped in the humid heat between their bodies. Every time Jaemin pushes his cock against him, Chenle feels himself get a little looser—lost to the heat and the lust, gone out with the tide of his desperation, ready to take it even if it’s impossible.
“Fuck. You want it so bad,” Jaemin says, and it’s not a question. He shifts his hand, manages to rut harder and faster against Chenle’s hole. “I can feel you trying to pull me inside.”
Chenle gasps, moans, tries to catch his breath and only manages to pant against him. Jaemin’s rocking him now and his lace covered cock grind hard against the plane of his stomach. Every bit of pleasure that burns through him is tangled with pain, all friction and desperation.
“I want it, I want it,” Chenle mumbles. He can’t remember the last time that he wanted to be fucked so bad, the last time it felt like a physical need, a yawning hole inside him. And Jaemin just keeps teasing him, slowing his grinds until every press of his tip feels like a filthy kiss, until Chenle is sure that this time he’ll just bully his way inside and make Chenle take it—before it slips past his hole. “Make me—make it fit.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Jaemin says. He laughs, a breathless choked off thing, and Chenle’s knees tighten around him. He bounces in his lap, throwing off his rhythm, rutting against his belly until Jaemin gets a hand on his hip to force him down. “Not tonight.”
Jaemin turns his head, noses against Chenle’s cheek until he turns to him. Their mouths meet. Chenle’s back arches and Jaemin rubs against him while his tongue pushes between his lips. His tip catches on Chenle’s rim, nearly pushing inside and sharp panic shoots up Chenle’s spine. He bites Jaemin’s tongue, hard enough to make him jolt, cock slipping past his hole. “Not tonight,” Jaemin says again.
Chenle sucks on his bottom lip in apology.
“Maybe next time,” Jaemin says. He shifts Chenle on his lap and he feels a seam pop somewhere along the line of the panties. His hand moves, wrapping around his shaft, and Chenle’s mouth drops open as he starts jerking off. Every stroke has his tip kissing Chenle’s hole, his knuckles bumping against his taint, the line of his arm rubbing against his balls. “Next time, you can spread your legs and show me your panties, and I can hold you down and you can pretend like you can’t take me,” Jaemin says.
They’re still practically kissing. Jaemin’s breath hits Chenle’s tongue as he reaches down to rub himself through his underwear. He nods, eyes fluttering shut, hand sliding up to knot in Jaemin’s hair.
He moans at the pull of it and Chenle shivers, fingers pressing down over the tip of his cock. “You’ll be so wet, so open for me. You’ll take my cock like a dream, but you can cry and kick me and try to tell me that it’s too big for you. No fingers. Just me, splitting you open.”
“Yes, yes, yes, oppa,” Chenle gasps. He wants it. His joints lock up, he pinches the head of his cock. Jaemin tenses under him, still mumbling about how he wants to rip Chenle’s panties open and shove his cock into him and make him cry like a girl. “Gonna come,” he wheezes, fingers tightening in Jaemin’s hair, back bowing.
“Yeah—fuck up your panties, baby. Let me see that pretty face you make when you come,” he says. His voice is low, rushed, hand tugging even faster at his cock.
They come at the same time. Chenle tosses his head back and cries out, strands of Jaemin’s hair breaking off between his fingers, cum spilling into his underwear. Jaemin finishes quietly, teeth set into his bottom lip, cum splashing against Chenle’s hole and ass.
Chenle collapses onto him, shivering and clinging. It takes longer for Jaemin to finish. He keeps playing with his cock until he’s completely soft, one arm cinched around Chenle the entire time.
“Touch me,” Chenle commands once he’s done.
Then, Jaemin plays with him. Kissing the shell of his ear, rubbing his back, dipping his fingers into his own mess and rubbing it into his rim, pushing it inside when Chenle asks for it. When he gets hard again, Jaemin leans his seat all the way back, urges Chenle up over his chest, pulls his panties to the side, and sucks him into his mouth. Half crushed against the ceiling of his car with one hand in Jaemin’s hair and the other on his shoulder, with Jaemin’s massive adoring eyes staring up at him, Chenle comes for the second time. He finishes in Jaemin’s mouth and instead of spitting, Jaemin just closes his eyes and swallows, Chenle’s length wilting on his tongue.
When he finally lets Chenle back down into his lap, he’s smiling, and his mouth is wet and all Chenle can do is lean in and kiss him.