Work Text:
The office is quiet at this time of night, washed in the soft, sallow gleam of the desk lamps.
Suho has to admit he’s never been one to chase after a typical nine-to-five career, but tonight seems to be dragging more than usual. His late-night shifts usually do.
Most people left hours ago, excited to spend the holiday with their loved ones, while Suho is still here, stuck smelling the mustiness of old case files and staring at the wall clock in hopes that time moves faster.
He’s currently slouched over his desk, shirt rumpled, surrounded by too many empty coffee cups to count. He removed his coat earlier, but the air in the room still feels stuffy and uncomfortable.
Even the cheap decorations that consist of heart cutouts and chocolate hanging on the office walls look pathetic and sad, and do nothing to encourage him.
Suho lets his head drop down onto his desk with a heavy thud.
“Yeongi,” he groans.
Yeongi hums in reply, although it might just be an especially loud sigh.
She’s at the desk right across from him, playing some game on her phone, and Suho is relieved to know she’s putting in just as much effort as he is.
“What time is it?” he asks, through a yawn.
“Check yourself,” she grumbles.
Suho stretches out obnoxiously and lets out a whine before slumping farther down into his chair. “You’re already on your phone,” he replies lazily.
And now Yeongi does look up, eyes narrow, face dead blank. She’s not amused, but she does seem too tired to argue after the long day they’ve had. Her eyes flit up, then back down. “It’s after nine,” she mumbles before going back to her game.
“How long after nine?”
The look Yeongi shoots him this time is filled with enough lazy venom to leave it alone. It doesn’t look like he’s getting out of here before ten, anyway. Too much paperwork for the string of assaults increasing across the city since the start of the month has had him pinned to his desk well into the late hours of the night for weeks now.
He didn’t really imagine this being his reality, all those months ago, when he accepted the job. He thought maybe he’d be saving people on the streets and fighting crime hands-on, but he guesses he should be grateful for the work regardless.
While he’s busy burrowing further into his seat, squinting at the documents, Suho hears a phone buzz. It startles him, but when he realizes it’s not his work phone, he turns to reach into the pocket of his jacket hanging loosely on the back of his chair.
He fishes out his regular phone, significantly less prone to buzzing than the device sitting on his desk. There is a total of two people who contact him on this personal phone, and one of them is his grandma. The second isn’t much of a texter, so when Suho sees his name written on top of the notification banner, he shoots up in his seat, curious.
9:13 pm sieun-ah
What time do you get off?
9:14 pm
eager to see me?
9:14 pm sieun-ah
No
9:15 pm
:(
Sieun doesn’t text him back and likely won’t bother without further prompting, so Suho shoots him another quick message.
9:18 pm
what’s up?
He sets his phone face down after that and turns back to the files he had been skimming. He’s been drafting the same report for at least an hour. He should probably get another coffee, he realizes, slipping off his glasses and rubbing at the spot just above the bridge of his nose, where his head aches.
Next to his elbow, his phone lights up again. It's not a message, though, but a single image.
He’s known Sieun for a while—maybe seven or eight months—and in that time, the boy has rarely sent Suho any photos.
He clicks on the notification and opens the image. It's a selfie of Sieun, taken under bad lighting, most likely on his way home from a shift at the hospital. He looks tired, but still pretty as ever.
9:20 pm
going home?
9:21 pm sieun-ah
Not yet
Before Suho can reply, another message comes through—another photo.
Suho immediately recognises the layout of the building and the cinderblock behind his head as a wall within this very vicinity. The parking garage.
He's nervous suddenly—his stomach is doing weird things—and he wonders what Sieun is up to. The thing is, Sieun does what he wants, when he wants, and Suho never really knows what to expect.
A third picture comes through. This time, it's not a selfie.
It's taken from a high angle, only showing the lower half of his body. Sieun's sweatshirt is untucked, held up by his other hand, the smooth lines of his hips captured. Something is peeking out from the waistband of Sieun’s work pants, the color a dark contrast to his skin tone, and Suho realizes a little late that he's wearing panties.
A sudden prickle of heat shoots up his spine, practically writhing within the confines of his desk chair.
9:26 pm sieun-ah
Want to join me?
His knee bangs against the desk in shock, making him wince in pain, rubbing at the spot as Yeongi rolls her eyes from across the room. He rereads the message to make sure his mind isn't playing tricks.
That’s how Yeon Sieun gets you. Stealth attacks. Always when you're least expecting.
The flirting equivalent of sand in the eyes.
He moves the phone under his desk to look at the photo closely. His stunned brain is trying to think of some way to respond, but before he has a chance, his phone pings with another message notification.
9:31 pm sieun-ah
Is that a no?
9:32 pm
where are u?
9:33 pm sieun-ah
Second floor
By your car
And he shouldn’t. It’s already half past nine, and he’s still got work to do, more than he can likely finish tonight. Holiday or not, he needs to focus on his tasks at hand.
Then again, he’s useless right now, under-caffeinated and exhausted. He could use a break, a walk, some fresh air.
9:34 pm
meet you there in ten?
9:35 pm sieun-ah
See you then
He’ll only be a half-hour, tops, he reassures himself.
The parking lot is eerily quiet, only the sounds of leftover rain dripping onto the concrete and Suho's footsteps. Every corner is thick with shadows, barely any cars in sight. Suho's is parked right down the far end. It isn’t hard to spot Sieun leaning against the hood of his car like that.
He looks like something straight out of a film. He’s smoking, tendrils of it hanging in stagnant wisps around him before the February breeze shifts it away. He’s got one of his larger sweatshirts on over his scrubs, hood pulled up to fend off the winter chill.
A passer-by would likely brush him off as some loitering troublemaker, but that’s the way Sieun likes it, anyway. He likes his space and prefers people to keep their distance.
Suho still isn’t entirely sure what he did to become one of the few exceptions to that rule.
Sieun doesn’t notice Suho at first, gazing down at his phone, and by the time he finally hears the footsteps, Suho is close enough to see the boy’s eyes widen slightly, big and glossier than before. It kind of kills the serial killer vibe, but it warms Suho from the inside out instead.
Sieun flicks at the cigarette and tucks his phone away into a pocket, straightening up as Suho approaches.
Sieun jerks a little when Suho suddenly draws level with him, doesn’t miss a beat before he’s pressing him back against the hood, hands finding Sieun’s hips to tug him in nice and close. He kisses him hard, feels the smile sweet against his own lips.
Suho keeps his tongue mostly to himself, but still manages to draw a low hum of appreciation from Sieun, his hand slipping up to grip at the back of Suho’s neck. He smells like hospital and sweat and smoke and that one jasmine soap he's been enjoying lately, and Suho wants to eat him whole.
Suho is appreciative that he doesn't smell even a little bit like coffee or musty case files. He presses soft kisses down Sieun's jaw just for an excuse to breathe him in a bit longer.
"Hello to you, too," Sieun murmurs, once Suho pulls back a bit, thumb still hooked into the waistband of Sieun's pants.
He ducks in to leave another lingering peck on Sieun’s lips before he turns his head to take another drag of the cigarette.
"It's cold out here," Suho says, and true enough, his breath is fogging white. "You looked like you needed some warming up."
Sieun hums in a quiet sort of agreement, not looking away from Suho once. He offers Suho the tail end of his cigarette, and Suho takes it, but he also leans in to steal another kiss, softer this time, the kind of kiss that leaves an ache in the pit of his stomach.
"Why did it take you so long to respond earlier?" Sieun asks coyly when Suho finally pulls away to take a drag.
"Some of us are supposed to be working," Suho mumbles, dropping the last of the smouldering butt to the concrete by their feet, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe.
Sieun quirks up an eyebrow, teeth snagging mischievously on his own lower lip. He’s got pretty lips, plump and full, like a doll’s, though the way he uses them is anything but delicate. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," Suho agrees, moving in close again, Sieun’s grin weakening as Suho's hands slip underneath his shirt to find his hips and that band of lace resting over them. They don’t stop there either, one hand sneaking lower, fingers fumbling to untie the strings on his pants. Suho goes slow, in case Sieun has any reservations against being fondled in the open space of the parking lot, but Sieun’s eyes fall shut as Suho slides under the waistband, breath catching softly.
He feels silk against his knuckles, stretched over the half-hard line of Sieun’s cock. He can’t help the low groan he lets out as he leans in close, his eyes slipping shut, forehead bumping against Sieun’s.
"You like it?" Sieun whispers. He’s got this coy lilt to his voice, like he’s slightly shy about the whole situation. Suho would think twice to believe the act, but something warm blooms in his stomach at the thought of Sieun being genuinely embarrassed about the lingerie. "You mentioned you were into it that one time, so I thought—"
Suho’s already shaking his head before Sieun’s done speaking. "Trust me," he breathes, taking his hand out from Sieun's pants to join the other under his shirt, leaning in to sink his teeth into Sieun’s bottom lip. "I like it."
He groans low, mouth falling open, and Suho feels something in him break apart. He presses in deeper, tongue searching, Sieun’s fingers curling into the front of his shirt, creeping between the buttons to feel skin.
Sieun's hood falls with the force of the kiss, and he shivers, but he’s hot to the touch; he always is. Even after standing out in this cold for the past fifteen minutes, his skin is warm when suho presses his hands further up underneath his untucked shirt, palms smoothing up the small of his back. He sucks on Sieun’s tongue, tasting the smoke, but it’s never particularly bothered him; more comforting than anything else.
In this position, leaning against the car, one of Sieun’s thighs slots in perfectly between Suho’s. He can’t stop himself grinding down against thick muscle, feeling Sieun groan into his mouth when he does, hiking his own thigh up a little further like he wants to feel more.
It’s unlikely they’ll be disturbed so late into the evening, but this isn’t the kind of thing Suho’s willing to take a chance on. He pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting between their mouths.
"What’s wrong?" Sieun asks him, sounding a touch kiss drunk already. His lips are slick, eyes wide and questioning, cheeks flushed from the cold and the kissing, and he looks so fucking adorable, yet sexy even just standing there like that, in his rumpled uniform and oversized hoodie. He frowns as he watches Suho move away, walking a few paces to the back door of his car. He opens it before he turns to give Sieun an expectant sort of look. Sieun stares at him with those big eyes, his lips twitching like he’s not sure whether to laugh or not. "Seriously? Here?"
Suho makes a face. "I think so?" He says it like a question because it is one. It’s better than sucking Sieun off against the hood of his car, at least.
"Holy shit," Sieun mutters in disbelief, but he doesn’t look like he's against the proposition when he pushes himself away from the front of the car. "Okay."
He walks around to climb into the backseat without even hesitating.
Suho glances around the lot before he ducks inside as well. He feels a weird sort of giddiness creep up at the fact that they're sneaking around like teenagers. Sieun must feel it too, judging by the huff he lets out in disbelief, but he does a bad job of concealing the smile on his face as he pulls Suho down on top of him the moment the door is shut and locked behind them.
“You’re crazy,” he breathes against Suho’s mouth, nervous and panting as he slides his hands down into the back pockets of Suho’s pants, fingers sinking in.
It’s messy for a few minutes, both of them working hard to occupy this same small space comfortably— both of them refusing to detach at the mouth. Sieun hits his head off the far-side door handle when Suho tries to kiss his throat, and Suho takes a shoe to the ribs shortly after, groaning into the crook of Sieun’s neck as Sieun moans out a breathless apology.
“Off,” Suho rushes, reaching down to pull at one of the converse while he nips playfully at Sieun’s earlobe. “Take these off.”
“Get off me, then,” Sieun grunts, and Suho does as he’s told for a moment, moving to sit in the middle seat while Sieun slides to the side. He quickly bends down to untie the laces of his Converse, fingers threading through the string hurriedly.
He takes far too long, as far as Suho’s concerned; he’s already struggled out of his jacket by the time Sieun’s starting on his second sneaker, deft fingers still too slow.
“You’re taking too long,” he rushes, whining just a touch as he slides his hand up underneath the back of Sieun’s hoodie. Suho rubs his fingertips between the bumps of his spine, enjoying the heat of his skin.
“You’ve got zero patience,” Sieun says, finally kicking off the second shoe and turning to him.
Sieun kisses Suho before he even moves to straddle him, noses bumping, teeth clattering together as he twists around, and gets a leg over Suho’s lap. His head is brushing the ceiling, and Suho’s legs are a tad contorted, but it’s better.
Even though it’s cramped and the air is already too sticky, Sieun’s mouth is perfectly hot and wet, reminding Suho exactly what he’s been missing over the last few days. This is exactly what he’s been needing, the sweet kisses and weight of the other boy pressed against him.
Suho grabs at the front of his hoodie, pulling him in deeper, drawing the first soft moan from Sieun before he drags the clothing over his head to remove it. Sieun’s already gotten to work on Suho’s shirt buttons, but his fingers fumble a bit with the soft kisses and nips Suho is pressing down his jaw. Sieun’s head tips back against the passenger seat, eyes shutting.
“I’ll murder you if you leave any marks on my neck,” he warns lowly. Suho replies by tugging his shirt out of the way to sink his teeth into Sieun’s shoulder instead, making him arch up.
“Ah— Suho—“ he hisses, hand coming up to fist tight in Suho’s sweaty hair. It leaves a nasty red mark, and it hurts, but the way he licks his tongue over the bruise makes up for it. Sieun shivers as the wet cools quickly on his skin.
What?” Suho smirks against his skin, kissing softly up the side of his throat now. “I didn’t get your neck.”
“You’re sadistic,” Sieun tells him as Suho’s free hand drops to the back of Sieun’s thigh, sliding up to cup his ass. Sieun uses the hand already in Suho’s hair to tug him up, looking him in the eye for a second. Suho’s mouth is still curved into a smile. “A living nightmare.”
That makes Suho laugh, a silly thing that does not belong in this situation, his face splitting into a wide grin as he dips in for Sieun’s mouth again. He kisses him slowly with these lingering pecks as he busies himself coaxing Suho’s shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, pulls away with a nip of his teeth and a low hum in his chest that sounds an awful lot like a giggle when Suho tries to deepen things. Part of him knows that things would be quicker if they stayed as clothed as possible, but he’s not in the mood to deny Sieun of anything tonight.
Once Suho’s shirt is off, Sieun slides his tongue into his mouth, and his hands down Suho’s bare chest, nails dragging gently, and Suho couldn’t bite back the groan he let out, even if he wanted to. Sieun’s hands don’t stop, either; they slide down over his stomach, like he knows it’s going to be ticklish enough to make Suho tense up. He always gets a kick out of that, dragging his fingertips down Suho’s stomach, over the sharp muscles of his abs. Does it until his hands find the waistband of Suho’s pants, sliding around to blindly locate his zipper.
“Fuck, Sieun-ah,” he moans, the moment Sieun finally shoves a hand down to palm at the outline of Suho’s cock through his boxers. He inhales deep, sharp when Sieun finds the head, rubbing firm circles with his thumb until Suho’s hips buck up. He feels Sieun’s mouth curving into a grin again at that.
"You’re hard, hyung," he whispers, still stroking lightly through the thin fabric. He sucks on Suho’s lower lip a bit before he lets him reply.
“Yeah?” he questions sarcastically. “I wonder why.”
Sieun hums again, Suho’s grip tightening on his ass when he hears the sly tone of his hum. "You haven’t even looked properly," he says, lowly, leaving soft presses of his lips around Suho’s mouth as if that wasn’t the most devastating thing he could’ve said in that very moment.
"Sieun," Suho hisses, more to himself than anything. With all this, the kissing and the easy banter, he’d practically forgotten the whole reason he was lured down here in the first place—the burgundy strip of lace, those sharp hips and thick thighs.
"Want to see?" he asks, batting his eyes coyly. His pretty lips and shy smile make Suho feel like he just downed a tequila shot, hot and warm all over.
Suho nods dumbly, eyes not leaving Sieun's wet mouth until Sieun is pushing his fingertips down past the waistband of Suho’s boxers, curling them around his cock.
He’s got his mouth on Suho's again before his groan makes its way out into the world. Sieun kisses him deep and avoids teasing with his firm little strokes that get Suho’s hips rolling upwards. His fists curl tight into Sieun’s shirt, immediately wanting it gone.
Suho’s fingers are clumsy, weak with the low-burning pleasure humming through his veins, but he finds the fabric of Sieun's shirt, fumbles, and tugs between moments spent arching up into his touch. They've done this plenty by now, enough times that Sieun knows exactly how to get Suho right on the edge in minutes. He knows when to alternate those long strokes down his length with the lethal shorter ones, focusing on the head of Suho's cock, driving him half-mad. He swears he’s nearing close already until Sieun slips his hand out of his boxers again to curl his arms around Suho’s neck.
Any frustration he feels at losing the touch on his cock is quickly burned away by the fiery heat of skin on skin, Sieun arching into him as he licks into his mouth, chest to chest. Suho smooths his hands up over Sieun's narrow waist and ribs, quick about finding Sieun’s nipples because it’s always so damn rewarding. The immediate twitch when he brushes his thumb over for the first time, the muffled whimper against Suho’s lips when he circles the edge of his areola with a light forefinger. Sieun waits until Suho starts kissing down his neck before his hand drops back down for his cock, picking up with that same toe-curling pace.
Suho’s teeth nip lightly at his collarbone as he curses, and Sieun’s free hand slides into his hair, a gentle pressure on his head to go lower. Suho almost catches himself grinning at the lack of subtlety, letting his lips roam further down from his collarbone till his mouth is over his nipple and Sieun’s breath is quick and hot in his hair. His tongue swirls once, and he swears Sieun noticeably shakes against him, a low moan humming in his throat.
"Suho-yah—" he hisses, and Suho has to drop his hand to catch at Sieun’s wrist, tug his fingers away from his cock because his grip has gotten too tight, too much. Sieun mumbles some half-formed apology, but Suho barely minds, teeth nipping with the gentlest pressure to make sieun moan, burying his own face into the crown of Suho’s head. He rolls his hips down, too, grinding against Suho’s thigh, and Suho is suddenly reminded once again of why they’re here in the first place.
"Get these off," he mumbles against Sieun’s chest, already tugging on the waistband of his pants. "Now."
Sieun’s a little slow about responding with Suho’s mouth shifting to his other nipple, but finally, he starts to help. It really is a two-person job, getting the bottoms off in this small space, but they manage it with Sieun only hitting his head on the roof once. Suho considers that a win overall, both of them breathing even heavier than they were by the time he tosses the clothes to the side somewhere.
Sieun moves immediately for his mouth, and Suho indulges him for a moment, hands sliding from the crooks of Sieun’s knees up the backs of his thighs. When he reaches the firm swell of his ass, though, he can’t hold off any longer.
“Let me see you, then,” he insists, sucking gently on Sieun’s lower lip before he pulls away.
Whatever shyness there was earlier, Sieun’s lost that now, too far gone, lips bitten bright, lids heavy, dark eyes glazed over. He leans back in Suho’s lap, bracing himself against the back of the passenger seat, and Suho feels it all hit him so hard his head spins, the world tilting on its axis as his eyes travel slowly down Sieun’s gorgeous body.
He’s soft, lithe, and pretty all over—tanned skin and nipples all on display. The lingerie looks a little too good on him, compliments his sharp collarbones and hips, the kind of perfect that only exists in a fantasy. Deep, dark red that’d turn the most pure-hearted man to the worst sorts of corruption in a heartbeat. They’re silk, mostly, with a delicate lace band that sits over the bones of his hips like it was never meant to sit anywhere else in the world. The line of his hard cock is obvious, the fabric stretched taut, sculpted over it so that nothing save for the full visual itself is left to the imagination.
A gentle flare of shyness in his eyes, his cheeks dusting a deeper pink under the attention. Even with the faded scars on his fists and his rough edges, he's the most beautiful person Suho's ever seen. The same reserved and quiet Sieun that Suho first met, incidentally, but over these past several months, he’s found himself learning an entirely new side of Sieun.
"Pretty baby," Suho tells him, meeting his gaze again, managing to keep his eyes open, even through the hot fog hanging heavy in his veins.
Sieun looks too pleased for his own fucking good, corners of his mouth turned down in a mischievous smile.
"Yeah?"
"Prettiest I've ever seen," Suho confirms for him, sliding his hands up the back of his thighs, mapping out where the silk hugs perfectly into the cleft of Sieun's ass. He adds in a thick groan, fingers squeezing, head tipping forward to rest against Sieun’s chest for a moment.
He feels Sieun’s fingers sliding into his hair, scratching at his scalp more than tugging this time. "Please tell me you have lube in here," he says, and Suho can feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing under his own forehead— under all the bashfulness, he’s just as desperate.
"That's what you want?" he asks, pressing a kiss to Sieun’s sternum, fingers slipping in underneath the silky edge of the underwear. He bites at a spot just under his nipple, looking up at him through his lashes. "You want me to fuck you in these panties, Sieun-ah?"
Sieun lets out a sharp huff of breath, “Thought that was obvious.”
He leans forward to catch Suho’s mouth once more, and god, even if he’d wanted to hold back any longer, he wouldn’t have it in him. Suho lets himself be kissed good and deep, sucking on Sieun’s tongue to make him groan all rough, and his hands take a wander over Sieun’s ass, squeezing, curious fingers sneaking back under the silky fabric to brush over his hole and press there.
"God, just—"
"The lube is in the glove compartment," he finally manages to mumble between all of the kisses. "You’re gonna have to lean over and grab it."
And Sieun doesn’t waste any time, pulling away quickly, leaving Suho slack-mouthed and kiss-slick to lean over into the front seat and fumble with the glove compartment. There’s a lot of cursing from him while Suho grabs his jacket and digs out his wallet for a condom, but Sieun comes back seemingly unscathed, travel-size lube bottle in hand.
Sieun gives him a maddening look, observing him.
"Why are your pants still on?" He doesn't even bother to hide the frustration, clipping his tone, pinching his brows. He drops the lube onto the seat next to them and proceeds to fix that problem himself, shoving his hand into Suho’s boxers. "Do I have to do everything, Suho-yah?"
Suho snorts softly at the theatrics, catching Sieun's chin and tipping his head up. He gives him a daring look, a warning. "Don’t be impatient, baby," he mumbles, before kissing him again, just a peck because Sieun isn’t done nagging as he tugs Suho's cock out.
"You’re the one who has to go back inside after this," Sieun reminds him, and Suho groans unhappily, eyebrows furrowing at the thought.
"Ugh," he grumbles, hands on Sieun’s waist again, trying to pull him in close. "Don't remind me."
"Give me that," Sieun tells him, snatching the condom from Suho’s hand and tearing it open before he leans in to indulge him with a proper kiss, heavy and warm. Sieun rolls the condom on blind with Suho humming against his mouth. Every touch from Sieun has his mind reeling, worse when Sieun grabs the lube and slicks the condom up with it.
When he hears the bottle click shut, Suho drops his hands to Sieun’s ass again, hooking his fingers into the underwear to shift them to the side instead of fighting to get them off. Straddling over Suho’s lap as he is, Sieun’s already spread enough for him to rub over his hole, which he does. Suho grins against his mouth when he feels Sieun tense up, jerking at the feeling.
“Want my fingers?” he questions, moving to suck sloppy kisses down Sieun’s jaw, but Sieun only shakes his head, reaching down for Suho’s cock, lining himself up. He sinks down without a beat, taking the tip before Suho’s brain has had a chance to catch up to the source of the pleasure, making his hips tighten, his breath stopping in his throat.
He tips his head back again to watch Sieun’s brows knit, eyes shutting like he’s deep in concentration. Whether he’s sitting on a cock or giving it, Sieun takes sex about as seriously as he takes everything else he enjoys— he needs to be the best at it, and always succeeds, as far as Suho’s concerned.
“Shit,” Sieun whimpers, a look oddly close to relief washing his face as he bottoms out, ass meeting Suho’s lap.
Suho finally remembers how to breathe, the air rushing out of his lungs in a shaky sigh as he strokes his hands up Sieun’s sides again, thumbs brushing over his nipples. "Okay?" he asks.
Sieun’s breath hitches in the softest laugh, a corner of his mouth quirking up. "Yes," he assures him, voice dipping low. His eyes open to dark slits, shining even in this dull light, before he ducks in to catch Suho’s waiting mouth.
"You feel good," Suho tells him, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw, pulling him in and kissing him nice and deep, just the way he likes. The tight heat around Suho's cock is making his head spin, his hips screaming with the desperation to thrust up, but he knows Sieun never takes long to adjust.
"Suho," he grumbles against Suho’s lips. He likes to pretend he’s not into Suho's gentle praises, likes to pretend it doesn’t get him just as hot as any of the rest of it, but Suho knows.
"You look good, too," he adds, a little more breathless now, experimenting with the tiniest shift of his hips. Sieun makes a small sound, but he doesn’t seem opposed to the movement, his own thighs spreading a touch wider on either side of Suho’s hips.
“Stop it,” he mutters, but there’s no fight behind it as he melts against Suho’s chest, and gives sloppy, lazy kisses and soft grunts with every shallow thrust.
“Can’t help it, baby,” Suho presses the words against his lips, hands dropping to stroke down Sieun’s straining thighs, thumbs trailing feather-light up the sensitive inner parts to make his legs shake. “You’re just too fucking pretty riding my cock in those panties.”
And that seems to be the breaking point for Sieun, a strangled curse muffled against the side of Suho’s neck as he lifts himself off his cock, and then down again, not too deep, but the drag of it making Suho’s stomach clench. He slides his hands down the curve of Sieun’s spine, fingers dipping low to feel that point where the panties bunch up, where his cock disappears inside him.
“Fuck. Stop talking,” he gasps, leaning in to kiss him, once, hard, pulling away with his teeth snagging on Suho’s lip. He buries his face down into his neck again, then, and Suho would tease him if he had the breath left to, with Sieun clenching tight around him as he works to fuck himself on Suho’s cock, thighs barely quivering with the effort, but Suho isn’t about to make him do all the work here. He moves his hands to grip underneath those thighs again, tight, fingers digging in to signal Sieun to hold fucking still for a moment, then he thrusts his own hips up with a snap that leaves them both winded, Sieun almost ripping his hair out from the strength.
It's better like this, though, more effective because neither of them has the time nor the patience right now for that slow-burn kind of fuck, with the soft touches and the steady, rolling hips. It's all clinging hands and digging fingernails and Suho’s teeth grazing at Sieun’s throat again as he thrusts up hard, the staccato thump of it every time loud and lewd in the silence of the car. Sieun muffles his noises into the crook of Suho’s neck and then into his mouth, messy, clashing kisses all filled with moans, until Suho mumbles something barely coherent about how good he sounds, which only seems to rile him up more. Sieun pulls away with a curse, leaning back to brace his elbows on the front seats, taking the pace into his own hands again.
Suho loosens his grip on Sieun's thighs to let him move, lets his own head fall back against the headrest to watch because it’s certainly a fucking show. The way every muscle in Sieun’s lithe body tenses as he lifts himself off, from his thighs right up to his soft stomach, pulled taut, and his arms braced on the seats, arms bulge, his uniform shirt hanging off him, slipping down his shoulders. And then there’s the way his cock is straining against the silk of the underwear, the desperate, dark spot of precum reminding Suho he hasn’t even bothered to touch him yet.
He’s quick about fixing it, though, reaching out to rub at that damp spot on the fabric, making Sieun’s hips stutter, his mouth falling open with a silent curse as he clenches around Suho’s cock from the sensitivity.
"Suho," he gasps out, and his voice is so low, so broken. "Please, please—”
“I know,” Suho assures him, tongue drunk on the heat prickling through him.
He’s drenched, his back sticking to the car seat, hair pasted to his temples, and Sieun’s the same, sweat glistening all over his chest and collarbones. Even the windows have fogged up, and Suho would crack a joke, but the humor department of his brain has shut down completely. All he can think about is the tight, slick heat around his cock, spreading into his own groin, every string of him tugging too fucking taut.
Sieun moans out a weak hyung when Suho finally curls his fingers around his cock.
He sets a relentless pace as Sieun’s hips start to get sloppy, slicking precum down his length and stroking quick and tight, leaning forward to get his mouth on Sieun’s chest again. Suho’s teeth on his nipple make Sieun arch in a way he hasn't seen before, but it must feel good because the boy’s hand flies up to cover his mouth on his next thrust down in an attempt to muffle his moan.
It barely helps, the raw syllable shivering white-hot down Suho’s spine, making him gasp as Sieun tightens suddenly around him, his hips losing momentum when his thighs start to quiver again.
Sieun’s head tips back between his shoulders, the veins in his neck protruding for a moment, chest hitching. "Oh, god, hyung, I’m—" and that’s all he manages before dissolving into gasps, though it’s not hard to decipher the rest as he comes hot and hard into Suho’s fist.
The visual of Sieun’s body, all stretched out and shaking through his orgasm, is really the last push Suho needs, even without Sieun clenching so hard around his cock now that it’s almost painful.
Sieun doesn’t get a chance for the overstimulation to hit before Suho’s letting go of his spent cock to grip at his waist again instead, fucking out his own release with shallow thrusts and sharp, shaky breaths, his forehead pressed against Sieun’s chest. It’s a heavy one, throbbing deep, hot, leaves him shivering on the sudden comedown. His arms wind around Sieun’s back as he tips forward to slump boneless against Suho’s chest.
There’s no sound but their heaving breaths in the close silence of the car, then Suho hitches with a quiet laugh.
He turns his head, lips brushing Sieun’s sweaty temple. "Never pegged you for the car sex kind of guy," he jokes, his own voice still too raw, and Sieun scoffs.
"Shut up," he grumbles, voice breaking into a low groan as Suho eases himself out.
Sieun doesn’t seem in any particular hurry to move, though, and Suho can’t quite bring himself to remind him they’re on a time limit here. He’s still doing his best to forget about that particular formality, just for now, for another couple of minutes. Sieun does a pretty good job of helping him in that department, too, when he lifts his head to seek out Suho’s mouth again, slow, sated kisses that make his toes curl.
"You should—" Suho murmurs, after a moment, his hands stroking down to the small of Sieun’s back again, resting there. “You should come over when I’m done here.”
Sieun looks a touch surprised, eyebrows raised. "To your place?"
"Only if you want," Suho shrugs easily, because they’ve done this a lot. “I should be done soon. I can pick up something to eat, and we can watch some cheesy romcom?"
Sieun stares at him for a moment, shy, then nods once and catches Suho’s mouth one last time before they clean themselves with wipes from the glove compartment.
The parking lot is freezing after the thick, humid heat they worked up inside the car, sweat drying fast on Suho’s skin as he's fighting with his keys. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sieun shiver, so he reaches out to catch him around the waist.
"Here," Suho says, finally getting his door key off the ring, pressing it into Sieun’s hand. He’s been thinking about it for weeks, debating how he would do it, talking himself up, but the timing never felt right. Truthfully, Suho wants it to be a big deal.
Sieun seems to catch him hesitating, eyebrows quirking up in question, just as Suho speaks.
“I made you a copy," he says, looking down at the key in Sieun’s hand instead of at his face. "So you can just keep that one."
Sieun isn’t replying; it’s been a whole ten seconds already. Suho freezes, wondering if he's fucked this all up.
With his arms still curled round Sieun’s waist, Sieun’s fingers soft and still in the hair at his nape, Suho’s eyes flicker up to chance a glance at his face. He almost does a double-take when he finds him just watching him, eyes wide, sparkly. There isn’t even a decent light source in this dingy corner of the lot, but they’re sparkling anyway—Suho has no idea how the fuck they do that.
Sieun doesn’t look particularly spooked, but Suho can’t say what he does look like, so his mouth runs on, too fast.
"I know my work schedule has been a lot. This way, you don't have to stand around waiting for someone to let you into the building if I’m not home. Plus, it’s really cold, and it's still Winter—”
Suho’s cut off suddenly by Sieun’s mouth, moving softly on his. His hand moves in Suho’s hair again, but only to tug him in closer, a lingering kiss that has him humming with quiet contentment even if he is still reeling a bit from the sudden attack. It doesn’t last too long, just long enough that Suho’s clean forgotten whatever babble was flowing out of his mouth, Sieun pulling away.
"See you soon, then," he says, turning around to head down the stairs.
Suho’s left dazed for a moment, but blinks himself back into reality as Sieun disappears from his vision. His lips stay pursed against a grin as he locks the car and finishes the remainder of his shift.