#exol

The band of his sweatpants is pulled down only enough so he can hold his member. His gasps, you note, match the rhythmic sounds of wet skin as he strokes himself. He’s not taking it easy. His hand is a blur of motions. You aren’t sure how long he’s been going, but right now, he’s very much engulfed in his own world, and whatever porn was open on the laptop in front of him has already gone into screensaver mode.

And, God, does he look like he’s feeling good. His gasps turn into small moans, and his movements quicken. You cannot see his other hand from your perspective, not until he suddenly moves it up his chest and wraps the slender fingers around his beautiful neck, as though to choke himself. You slap your hand over your lips. You hope he didn’t hear the little gasp that escaped you. It doesn’t seem like he did. He doesn’t look present.

And especially when his voice becomes louder, like he’s starting to forget to hold himself back, like the self-control flew out the window and you press your thighs together, hands fidgeting because the mere thought of him making these sounds when he’s on top of you- Good God, you don’t think you’re sane.

The whimper he lets out is so sinful that it puts your senses on hyperfocus, and you’re now heaving against the doorframe, eyes fixated on his cock as he finally cums, and it sprouts all over his hand still wrapped tightly, and over the sweatpants and shirt, which he doesn’t seem to notice, head tilted back and lolling around the headrest, face only now starting to relax slowly.

That’s it, you think. That’s your time. You’ve overstayed your welcome. The realization is thick in your throat, making you feel absolutely disgusting with yourself.

But as you turn around to leave quietly, a dark chuckle echoes through the room, and you freeze, head slowly turning, not certain if you’re ready to face him.

“Pervert” he utters. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes are still closed, but there’s a sinful smirk on his face, like he’s pleased with himself.

“I-I’m so sorry, I…”

“Come here.”

You stay frozen in your place, not knowing what to do. He finally opens his eyes and glances at you, eyes dazed. Lazy.

“I gave you a show. Now come here and clean up.”

You blush furiously at the invitation, but at heart, you know that if you’ve already gone this far, there’s no point denying it any longer.

You might be down bad, but Baekhyun, clearly, isn’t any better.

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