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Summer Shoot

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There are few things in life more uncomfortable than sporting a boner during a photoshoot. Jongin’s pose is seated, thankfully, but he can still feel Willy Willis poking up, curving outwards, attempting to escape the ridiculous confines of his tight leather pants like a targeted heat missile. He wonders, vaguely, if some poor intern will have to zoom into the seat of his pants later to edit the little guy out.

The fans are thrumming in overdrive today, the makeup artists fighting a losing battle against the syrup-sticky humidity sliding the foundation off of everyone’s skin as the shoot director rants on and on about “the smize” and has Kyungsoo and Junmyeon switch places for the thousandth time.

Kyungsoo’s chewing his nails nervously in between shots. He’s twisting around in a pair of tight leather pants with gold zippers that run down the length of his thighs and Jongin notes that if he tried, he could reach out and pull down the one that goes right between his—

Director man claps once, twice, in quick succession. “Can we get two boxes in here?” An intern hastily obliges, boxes in hand, and makes Kyungsoo and Junmyeon stand on them. “Hmph.” The director looks pointedly at Baekhyun and says, “Make that three.” He sighs as he turns away, muttering not very quietly about how short people shouldn’t be models.

Baekhyun looks annoyed, Chanyeol’s wide eyed, Sehun’s rolling his neck to the sky every chance he gets, and Junmyeon’s sweating profusely. As for Kyungsoo, well Kyungsoo looks fine. More than fine, actually. He looks—

“Why don’t we have you move down to the first row?” The director’s voice is beginning to sound very nasal to Jongin, but any remaining annoyance dissipates when Kyungsoo is suddenly right next to him, the soft skin of his hand brushing against Jongin’s shoulder so briefly that Jongin can’t tell if it's accidental. He thinks of feathery touches and whispery lips and suddenly wants to itch himself out of his skin.

“It’s the heat,” 
Jongin thinks. “It’s making me irritable.” He wants to move, he wants to snap. Then, before he even knows what’s going on, Kyungsoo is lowering himself down onto Jongin’s lap, the back of his fuzzy head blocking out all but Jongin’s view of the director, who’s waving his arms now, gesticulating, “Good, good, why don’t you move over to the left a little more. Really bring out the young youthful brotherhood energy. No, no, not that far.”

Jongin finds himself biting back a gasp as Kyungsoo shifts his soft ass across Jongin’s poor crotch, oblivious. If he just stays still then maybe Kyungsoo won’t notice, won’t press up against it—

"Nope. I’m fucked. This is fucked." For one breathless second, Jongin feels his dick twitch at the added pressure, and then Kyungsoo stiffens, posture instantly straight as a board. Jongin can imagine his eyes, round and pretty, probably as wide as saucer plates now.

Jongin’s surprised by how little mortification he feels. Instead, there’s a strange excitement, a pleased thrum coursing through his veins. His crotch being hidden from view is just an added bonus.

“Good, good. Jongin, look into the camera, I can’t see you.” 

Jongin can’t help it. He pokes his head out and throws an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, mushing their cheeks together in a surefire “cute brotherly bond” type of way, and gives the biggest shit-eating grin to the director. He can feel Kyungsoo’s cheek flush against his, and again, he can’t help it; his grin grows wider.

“Good, now stay.” Shutter sounds and blinding flashes ensue for the next few drawn out, agonizing minutes. Jongin can feel every minute press and curve of Kyungsoo’s ass when he shifts uncomfortably across Jongin’s lap, and he feels a confusing swell of thrill and guilt when he imagines how it must feel from Kyungsoo’s end.



Kyungsoo can feel the heat radiating off of Jongin in waves. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, maybe he’s going crazy—but he could swear that the press against his ass has gotten harder within the past ten minutes.

God, you’re doing it again. Stop overthinking things. The awkwardness—it’s all in your head," Kyungsoo chides himself. "Jongin's your bandmate. It’s just some badly timed morning wood. That’s all.”

“Break! Everyone, we’ll be back in ten. Kyungsoo, get some water, you’re looking a little red.” Kyungsoo didn’t know it was possible for his face to flush even hotter. He stands up immediately, albeit rather unsteadily, and wobbles out the door.


Jongin finds him in the hallway later, delicately pouring a bottled water down his throat so as not to ruin his makeup. “H-hey.”

Kyungsoo startles, choking on his water.

Jongin opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. For some odd reason, with the cameras out of his face, he’s suddenly hyper aware of how empty this hallway is, how distant the hurried voices of the camera crew are. Kyungsoo’s throat bobs up and down in an unconscious little gulp and Jongin follows it with his eyes, distracted.

The loud, distant voice of the shoot director gives Jongin a start. “Thirty seconds ‘til places! Twenty-nine…!”

Jongin and Kyungsoo can only stare at each other for one second more before rushing back to the suffocating heat of the studio.


The ride home is mostly silent and sleepy. The boys all pile into the manager's van and most of them fall into their routine naps of exhaustion, but Kyungsoo stays up a while longer, twisting his fingers in his lap and looking out the window at the sweltering waves of heat rising from the asphalt. 

A low, sleepy voice. "Not tired?"

Kyungsoo jumps. He looks across to see Jongin leaned back in his seat, smiling down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Kyungsoo shakes his head vehemently. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Jongin lets out a low "hm," and appears to relax back into sleep. 

"Just thinking," Kyungsoo murmurs after the soft rise and fall of Jongin’s chest evens out. It's quiet but for the hum of the van. 


The next day it happens again, and Jongin is not prepared. It’s late afternoon by now in the tight, hot studio, and everyone but the shoot director is silent from hunger and heat, too tired to talk. The sticky heat and the span of one agonizingly long, boring hour of posing and makeup has successfully killed Jongin’s boner. Stepped on it. Tossed it in the trash. He's been getting a lot of boners lately.

“Kyungsoo, why don’t you lay across—? Yes, just like that. Good.”

Jongin internally groans. Kyungsoo lays his head across Jongin's lap, with the rest of him sprawled out across Chanyeol and Sehun. Jongin can’t possibly see how this is going to look good in a magazine. 

Jongin can imagine Kyungsoo's eyes, his soft lips. Thoughts of Kyungsoo flipping onto his stomach and mouthing at Jongin’s crotch with his pink little mouth come unbidden into his mind. "Fuck. No, not here. Not again." It takes all of Jongin’s willpower to will down the impending boner for the next few shots, but halfway through, Kyungsoo feels something large and uncomfortable poking into the back of his head anyways.

Kyungsoo’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. "No way." It feels huge, larger than last time. Jongin tries to keep his face impassive. Kyungsoo is painfully aware throughout, but a few furtive upward glances tell Kyungsoo that even if Jongin notices, he doesn’t show it.

The car ride back is rather uneventful. Jongin stares into his lap and everyone ignores it as Chanyeol and Baekhyun play footsy the whole way home.


Back at the dorms, life proceeds as normal. Saturday morning they have a free schedule, and their routine is predictable enough for Kyungsoo to know that Chanyeol and Baekhyun are screaming over video games in the living room, Sehun’s probably in Suho’s room sleeping in, and Jongin’s rummaging for breakfast in the cupboards like a bear. Kyungsoo opens his door, peering out—and yup, that’s Chanbaek laughing, everyone else is out of sight, and shuts it quietly, his heart pounding like a drum.

Once he shuts the door, he sets his laptop to the dimmest setting, belly flops back into bed, and snuggles under his Pororo blanket with nothing but a baggy T-shirt on. "Alone at last." 

He looks around the empty bedroom, half-expecting Baekhyun to barge in unannounced like the cheery little shit he is. Nothing. Kyungsoo types Redtube into his incognito search bar.

1,963 results for 'hot top.' Sort by: Rating, best: 'Asian Twink Gets Bred by Daddy.'

"Interesting." Kyungsoo thanks the heavens for this pure, undisturbed moment and clicks the video.

He settles into his sheets as the video starts, building a nest of pillows around him and eagerly reaching down to begin fisting his cock with hot, heavenly twists across the tip. The daddy is actually really hot. His back muscles tighten at each thrust. Kyungsoo stops right before the knot in his belly begins to burn and lets out a little moan into his pillow. He doesn’t want to come just yet.

Suddenly, the door flings open. 

Kyungsoo scrambles to hide the porn tab behind a demo of Chanyeol’s new song, flings the bottle of lube onto the floor, and looks up with a start, flushed, his chest heaving as he stares into Jongin’s surprised face.

"What're you up to?" Jongin asks, tilting his head inquisitively. He’s not wearing a shirt.

"Just watching P-prince of Tennis."


Kyungsoo stares down into the space behind Jongin, his eyes wide and screaming discomfort.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Jongin says on his way out. There's a gentle click as Jongin carefully closes the door behind him. Kyungsoo breathes a sigh of relief.

Now back to some fucking.

The top is driving mad circles into the twink's ass, and the sound of skin slapping on skin and breathy moans is starting to get to Kyungsoo's head. Fuck. It's been so long since he's had the chance to even jerk off. He rolls his hips into the bed, reveling in the soft sheets that slide beneath him and wishing he had a giant dildo to fill his ass.

The top reaches out to grab the twink by the neck, choking off his moans. Kyungsoo holds his breath, his eyes crossing and his hips twitching into the bed as he cums.

Sated and spent, he slips into vague, twisting dreams of something whispering dark promises into his ear.

He wakes up hot and with his legs tangled into the bedsheets like a mermaids tail. The time on his MacBook and his feeling of grogginess confirms that yes, he did indeed take a three hour nap. Wait. Since when did he close out of that porn tab? He'd wanted to save it in his bookmarks for later. Oh no, upon closer inspection, he sees that it was just minimized to the bottom of the screen. Huh.

Kyungsoo chews his lip and pads into the kitchen for lunch. He finds Jongin standing around in the kitchen, still shirtless, heating up a cup of ramen. 

“Sleep well?”

Kyungsoo hums in affirmation. Jongin chuckles. Kyungsoo feels a strange tingle down his back but ignores it. What's up with him lately? He feels so antsy.  

"Good," Jongin says, reaching down to slap him on the ass, but Kyungsoo skitters away before he can touch; a breeze down there tells him that he forgot to put on his fucking underwear.

Sure, Jongin's slapped his ass before, but he's always had pants on! What if Jongin accidentally touches his balls?

Kyungsoo freezes, wondering if it would be weird if he were to flee now, with no explanation. Jongin sees it in his eyes, and just as Kyungsoo decides to bolt, takes advantage of Kyungsoo’s stunned panic to grab him around the waist with one arm so that he bends over a little at the unexpected pressure. With a devious glint in his eye, Jongin raises the other hand and leaves a resounding smack on Kyungsoo’s soft bum, now slightly exposed as his baggy tee flutters around his thighs.

Kyungsoo lets out an embarrassing noise that can only be described as a squeal, and Jongin laughs. Kyungsoo's feels himself flush from his chest to the tips of his ears and it burns. He pushes Jongin away like a hot iron. Jongin lets go with an amused chuckle. 

Kyungsoo crosses his arms and stares what he hopes are fiery daggers into Jongin's soul. "I—you—" he splutters.

Jongin blinks innocently. "Yes?"

"Nothing. Whatever!" Kyungsoo says, throwing his arms up in an indignant squawk as he scampers back to his bedroom without so much as even a glance back.

Jongin tries not to laugh as the T-shirt lifts and flutters around the edges again, causing Kyungsoo to pull his shirt down and waddle back to his room with his arms to his sides.

With the door securely shut and locked behind him, Kyungsoo flops facedown into bed and groans. As much as he hates it, he's painfully hard again, his dick weeping into the sheets.

Fuck, that was so humiliating. He wonders if Jongin got off on it, grabbing and spanking him like that, and instantly regrets the thought. He's so fucked. No way did Jongin enjoy that. That would be something someone like Kris or Yixing would be into, not Jongin. No way would nice, quiet Jongin enjoy spanking Kyungsoo, choking him, using his strong arms to press Kyungsoo down into the bed...

Within minutes, Kyungsoo's burning again, the heat in his belly making him whimper. A few more shaky jerks and he cums like a shot, shuddering and moaning weakly into his pillow.

He lies there for a while, dazed and spent and staring at the ceiling. Slowly but surely, the endorphins wear off and the nagging little voice in his head returns. Fuck. Jongin's just down the hall! What if he heard? It'll make things so awkward. Why'd I have to run away from him like that? Why'd I have to forget to wear UNDERWEAR? He probably thinks I'm weird now. And we're bandmates! We don't have time to fuck around! Technically coworkers too, and god knows people will find out. Besides, he wouldn't be interested. Hasn't he been dating that girl from high school for years now? We can't just go around fucking each other senseless between rehearsals.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes in defeat as images of them doing exactly that flood his mind. With great effort, he pushes the thoughts out of his head. Whatever. He'll think about it tomorrow. They have a music show rehearsal Monday he still has to prepare for. He can only hope it'll go smoother than the photoshoot did.