maayacolabackup | KPop: Stumbling Forward (Kris/Lu Han, NC-17)

Title: Stumbling Forward
Pairing: Kris/ Lu Han
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A series of firsts leave both Wu Fan and Lu Han in anticipation. (4k)
Notes: Dear Konnie, have that prompt. Inside of a much larger story. Sob.
Notes II: dirty talk square for kink_bingo.

*
Lu Han has a habit of appearing when Wu Fan least expects him.

It’s annoying, because Wu Fan can’t ever get Lu Han’s attention when he wants it. Lu Han skates right by him, picking on Jongdae or curling into Minseok or joking with Yixing or making cute faces at Zitao. But he never stops to look at Wu Fan for longer than the blink of an eye, until the exact moment Wu Fan gives up on catching his notice; then, suddenly, Lu Han is sliding down next to him on the sofa, one hand on Wu Fan’s thigh and the other poking at Wu Fan’s cheek, asking him why leader is looking “so very serious,” and laughing as Wu Fan swats the offending finger away.

“Because you ignore me,” Wu Fan snaps, and Lu Han looks at him with a gentle teasing expression and tightens the hand on Wu Fan’s thigh. Wu Fan can feel each and every slender finger through the thin material of his pants and he shifts a little in place, but he doesn’t move away. He shivers, too, but that’s just because Yixing keeps the air conditioning on too high because he’s spoiled and Wu Fan lets him be.

“I’m not ignoring you, duizhang,” Lu Han says, and there’s a lilt to his tone when he says duizhang; Wu Fan can never decide if it’s sarcastic or adoring and he’s not sure he really wants to know the answer. “I’m building the anticipation.”

“Anticipation for what?” Wu Fan asks, and his chest feels a little tight at the upward curve of Lu Han’s perfectly bowed mouth, and hang of his loose cotton t-shirt across his flat, strong chest. “I never know if I’ve done something wrong.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Lu Han says, and he looks away from Wu Fan for an instant, eyes flickering to where his hand rests on Wu Fan’s thigh, before his gaze finds Wu Fan’s again. “I just don’t want to share.”

“Share what?” Wu Fan asks, and Lu Han licks his lips and blinks. There’s a slight redness to his cheeks, Wu Fan thinks, and the room feels a little hotter than it did before.

“My time with you, leader,” Lu Han says, drawing his hand back and standing up. “The time we spend together isn’t for anyone else to see.”

Wu Fan’s breath is caught in his chest, and his heart is beating a little to quickly. His palms are sweating as he clenches them into fists. “Oh,” he says, and then Lu Han’s gone again, leaving Wu Fan alone in the living room wondering who turned off the air conditioning.

*

The first time Lu Han corners him backstage and shoves him into a wall, standing up on his tiptoes to kiss the smile right off Wu Fan's face, hair scented like pumpkin and mouth soft and wet, Wu Fan isn't completely lost on how to react. Maybe he’s a little surprised, because Lu Han’s never kissed him before, but it’s not as if Wu Fan’s never been kissed. He’s kissed a lot of girls, thank you, and Lu Han’s no girl but he’s got lips and a tongue and slick white teeth that melt against Wu Fan’s as easy as breathing, and that’s enough for Wu Fan to curl his fingers into Lu Han’s ugly purple jacket and tilt his head so he can get a little closer.

Lu Han tastes sweet, like honey, and Wu Fan wants more; he threads his hands into Lu Han’s hair and Lu Han sighs. Wu Fan catches the sound as his tongue slips between Lu Han’s lips, and Lu Han parts for him easily, soft as silk as Wu Fan explores his cheeks and the roof of his mouth and every treasure Lu Han’s offered. Lu Han’s hands are digging into his shoulders, and Wu Fan realizes he’s trying to lift himself up, head tilted back, and so Wu Fan drags his hands down Lu Han’s back and down to his hips to hold him steady.

It feels like they kiss forever, and Wu Fan realizes, with embarrassment, that he’s groaning aloud, and that Lu Han’s smiling at him even as Wu Fan is sucking on his upper lip. He can taste Lu Han’s smile, and it’s just as lovely and confusing as everything about Lu Han is.

“Was it worth the wait?” Lu Han asks, when he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connecting their mouths and his lips pink and swollen. Wu Fan can’t resist, and leans forward, licking along the lower lip and taking it into his mouth, scratching it with his teeth as Lu Han trembles in his grip. Wu Fan tightens his fingers into Lu Han’s sides, and Lu Han looks up at him with big glassy eyes.

Wu Fan realizes he’s waiting for an answer. “A little too much anticipation, I think,” he says, and Lu Han smirks, running a hand through his hair and then looking down, only to peek up at Wu Fan through his eyelashes playfully. Wu Fan can dance and rap on stage and then do a whole variety segment afterwards, but right now he can’t seem to catch his breath.

“Let me make it up to you, duizhang,” Lu Han says, and then he’s kissing Wu Fan again, and Wu Fan thinks that Lu Han can ignore him onstage forever as long as he makes up for it just like this.

*

The first time Lu Han sneaks into Wu Fan’s room late at night, they’re in Thailand. Wu Fan’s never touched another man like this before, but Lu Han’s stifled noises into Wu Fan’s neck as Wu Fan’s large hand curls around him give him enough clues to go by.

Wu Fan’s been nervous up until now to take things any further than make-outs on the couch when they’re home alone, or stolen kisses in dressing rooms between performances that are just as secretive as they are alluring.

It’s not that Wu Fan isn’t interested; it’s more that he’s not sure what Lu Han wants and Lu Han isn’t the sort to be direct. He prefers to keep Wu Fan on his toes, guessing at every step and pulling just out of reach with a sneaky grin whenever Wu Fan thinks he’s finally on steady ground.

“What is this?” he’d asked Lu Han, as they stood next to each other in the bathroom, Lu Han brushing his teeth as Wu Fan applied his face mask.

“What?” Lu Han had replied around the toothpaste foam, his bangs tied up in a stupid fluffy ponytail and his big orange toothbrush hanging from the side of his mouth as he filled his bathroom cup with water to rinse.

“This… thing,” Wu Fan said, and Lu Han had washed his toothbrush and rinsed his mouth before he answered.

“I have a crush on you, duizhang,” he said, and his eyes were round and Wu Fan had wanted to simultaneously kiss him and slap him because he sounded so smug. “Are you going to reject me?”

He’d leaned forward and pressed a quick peck to Wu Fan’s lips, and even Wu Fan doesn’t find himself attractive with a thick layer of mask on his face but Lu Han had seemed unperturbed. “Maybe,” Wu Fan had said, and Lu Han had laughed and retreated from the bathroom, but not before he’d given Wu Fan a lingering look that had promised things Wu Fan hadn’t been sure he was ready to understand.

Maybe it had promised things like now, Lu Han hot and hard in his hand, hips moving forward as Wu Fan moves slow and easy along his length. Giving a guy a handjob is something Wu Fan’s known how to do since he was ten, really, but it’s a whole new experience when it’s someone else’s dick in your hand.

Lu Han’s sweatpants impede his movement, but Wu Fan finds the angle Lu Han likes as Lu Han bites down into his shoulder. Wu Fan’s not sure if he breaks the skin but he doesn’t mind—he likes being in charge more than he likes most things. It’s probably a product of just how little he’d been able to control as a kid, but he doesn’t really need to psychoanalyze how much he likes Lu Han coming apart beneath his touch.

Tao hasn’t come back yet, to the hotel room they’re sharing, probably because he’s fallen asleep playing videogames with Jongin and Sehun. Wu Fan knows, realistically, that he could come back any moment, and he can’t bring himself to care as Lu Han’s nimble fingers find their way up his shirt and onto the plane of Wu Fan’s chest, scratching along the skin a little deeper with every circle Wu Fan makes around the head of his cock, grazing it with his spit-slick palm.

But even though they’re alone, Lu Han still seems to want to be quiet. Wu Fan’s a show-off, though, and he wants to hear Lu Han’s tiny noises become loud ones.

He slides his thumb up to the crown of Lu Han’s cock, pushing back the foreskin and skimming the slit, and Lu Han keens, then, a tweedy noise that makes Wu Fan want to move faster because he needs to hear it again. His own cock is heavy and begging for attention, but right now all he wants is for Lu Han to make more of those sounds.

“Is it good?” Wu Fan asks, and he feels that customary stage cockiness slinking into his tone, and Lu Han gasps a ”yes” that’s so desperate that Kris almost comes untouched.

“Tell me, then,” Wu Fan says, and Lu Han shimmies out of his sweatpants and Wu Fan can grab him easier now; grip him better and go a little faster. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” Lu Han says. “So good.” His voice cracks, and Wu Fan’s erection is straining against his briefs. “Just like that, duizhang. Just like-“

He sounds breathless and needy and Wu Fan likes being called leader and he likes the way there isn’t that little lilt to Lu Han’s voice as he says it and he likes the uncontrolled movements of Lu Han’s hips as Wu Fan does his best to unwind him completely.

“More,” Lu Han says, or maybe he whimpers, and Wu Fan is coming in his own underwear as Lu Han thrusts into his hand and spills across his fingers repeating duizhang almost like it’s a prayer.

Lu Han reaches for him blindly, their mouths finding each other in the dark, and Wu Fan shudders as their tongues wind together, the aftershocks of orgasm still tingling in his thighs and in his belly. Now he feels sticky and messy, and now he remembers that Zitao could come back at any moment.

Lu Han lifts himself up and reaches down, but then he looks up at Wu Fan with wide eyes and Wu Fan kind of wants to melt into the bed; or maybe melt through it. “I…”

Then Lu Han smirks, and raises an eyebrow. “Duizhang likes it when I talk, then,” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan loves the way Lu Han’s voice can do so many things. In that way, it’s sort of like Lu Han himself, constantly surprising and never boring.

“Yeah,” Wu Fan says, and he rolls over onto his side so he can kiss Lu Han again, keeping his sticky hand up so he doesn’t wipe it on Lu Han.

“Okay,” Lu Han replies, when he pulls back, and Wu Fan feels triumph mixing in with the sloth of satisfaction, because for once it’s Lu Han who looks a little dazed at what’s between them.

“I have a crush on you, too,” Wu Fan says, and Lu Han giggles before he tries to pull his face straight so he can respond.

“What if I’m over you already?” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan laughs, kissing Lu Han’s cheeks and forehead.

“You’re not,” Wu Fan says confidently, and Lu Han licks his lips, and then leans closer like he wants to lick Wu Fan’s too. He probably does, Wu Fan thinks. Lu Han’s always got crazy ideas, but Wu Fan usually likes them.

Lu Han grabs Wu Fan’s hand and brings it to his mouth, licking it clean, and Wu Fan remembers that you can never, ever predict what Lu Han will do next.

“Shower,” Lu Han says, wiggling completely free of his sweatpants and standing up. He pulls Wu Fan up too. “And then we’re gonna go sleep in my bed.”

“Won’t Yixing mind?” Wu Fan asks, throat tight because whatever this is between them, they haven’t shared it with anyone else. “Xiao Lu…”

“No,” Lu Han says, and he beams up at Wu Fan with that smile that captured all the hearts in China from its very first appearance. Wu Fan was not an exception. “Duizhang can sleep where he wants.”

“Okay,” Wu Fan replies, and later, clean and smelling like Wu Fan’s expensive European shampoo, they quietly go to Lu Han’s hotel room to sleep. Yixing is still awake, writing music in a notebook, and he probably notices their clasped hands and irrepressible smiles, but he doesn’t say anything when Lu Han fits his body into the spaces Wu Fan’s leaves behind, like they were made to sleep together.

*

The first time Wu Fan wants to take it another step further is months later. They’re still not talking about what this all is, but Wu Fan knows enough about what it is that he goes to sleep thinking about the slide of Lu Han’s lips across his collar bones and wakes up thinking about Lu Han’s sunshine smile.

Lu Han’d expressed interest, in things like blowjobs and sex, but Wu Fan’d shied away. Lu Han just smiled and told him it was fine, and ”in your own time,” and Wu Fan had done his best not to feel like a teenage girl making her boyfriend wait for their first time so it could be special, but he couldn’t help but feel that the situation was a little bit similar.

It’s just that Wu Fan hates not knowing what he’s doing, and he hates failing even more than that, and he doesn’t want to do either of those things in the bedroom with the guy he kind-of sort-of has a thing with that maybe Yixing knows about.

But today, Lu Han just seems so… Wu Fan’s not sure, but the tension in his shoulders is making him want to be a bit more reckless.

Lu Han is listening to music at the head of his bed and Wu Fan is writing emails to his friends on his mobile phone as Lu Han’s feet dig into his thigh. Wu Fan looks up, and over, and the way the light his hitting Lu Han’s face is enough to make Wu Fan’s heart feel like it’s melting all the way down to the pit of his stomach, turning him to jelly until he’s left shaking like his whole world is upside down.

He tosses his phone to the floor.

“Hey,” he says, and Lu Han doesn’t hear him, his music blasting in his ears; it’s TRI-ANGLE, Wu Fan is pretty sure, because Lu Han doesn’t listen to anything that isn’t DBSK music these days unless he’s listening to EXO-K.

Wu Fan pauses for a moment, and then he turns on the bed, so that now he’s on his knees. He crawls up so that Lu Han’s legs are underneath him, and Lu Han stops singing along to look at Wu Fan curiously. Wu Fan swallows, and presses his hand to Lu Han’s hip.

“Don’t move,” he says, and Lu Han can’t hear him, but he can see Wu Fan’s mouth and he freezes.

Wu Fan can feel the heat climbing into his cheeks, and he takes a shuddering breath as he fumbles with the button of Lu Han’s jeans. He’s pretty sure he locked the door, and his hands are trembling, but he’s sure.

Lu Han pulls out his earphones and sets them aside. The music is too loud, and Wu Fan focuses on that as he slides Lu Han’s jeans down, Lu Han lifting his hips so Wu Fan can drag them off, taking Lu Han’s boxers with them. Lu Han is still watching him, maybe wondering why Wu Fan looks so anxious, but then he’s moaning, loud and long, as Wu Fan tentatively licks at the tip of him.

Lu Han’s only half hard, but he’s swelling in Wu Fan’s grip, and the look on his face is a mix of disbelief and arousal.

“Duizhang,” Lu Han says, and the way he says it is the way Wu Fan doesn’t get to hear very often… the way reserved for the steady pull of Wu Fan’s hand in the shower as Lu Han spills down the drain, or for those quiet, impossible moments when Lu Han is between slumber and wakefulness, lips parted and hair tousled from sleep.

It’s a way that’s just for Wu Fan, and maybe that’s why it turns him on so much. His own jeans feel a little tight, but Wu Fan just wants to turn Lu Han’s world upside down the way Lu Han seems to turn Wu Fan’s without even trying.

“Tell me what you like,” Wu Fan says, and it comes out low and dark and Lu Han’s eyes narrow. “Talk to me.”

“You really like my voice, don’t you, duizhang?”

Wu Fan doesn’t answer, just presses a kiss to Lu Han’s thigh, reverent and soft, and Lu Han shivers.

“Take me in your mouth,” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan’s heart is beating so fast and his palms are sweaty. He nuzzles at Lu Han’s balls, and Lu Han gasps, and lifts his hips, and Wu Fan kisses the other thigh, just as gently as the last.

He moves up, carefully, and now Lu Han is fully hard, cock lying against his belly, and Wu Fan licks his lips.

“Did you hear me?” Lu Han asks, and Wu Fan exhales, letting the air blow across Lu Han’s erection.

“Just trying to build the anticipation,” Wu Fan says, and he splays his hand on Lu Han’s thigh and remembers when Lu Han had done the same thing to him.

Lu Han is the most exciting thing in Wu Fan’s life, and Wu Fan’s pretty sure that’s saying something considering he’s got ten other band members to throw a wrench into his every plan.

“Oh,” Lu Han says, and then Wu Fan takes a deep breath, and fits Lu Han into his mouth.

Lu Han tastes strange on his tongue, but not bad. Just strange, and a little salty, but mostly he just tastes like Lu Han. More importantly, he sounds like Lu Han, tiny whimpering noises and loud moans that have Wu Fan digging his hands into the flesh of Lu Han’s thighs, hard enough that he would feel guilty if Lu Han weren’t moaning loud enough to make Wu Fan forget everything but the feeling of Lu Han’s cock heavy on his tongue.

“Lick up the underside,” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan does, torturously slow. “Faster,” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan does, licking again at the head when Lu Han makes this noise at the back of his throat that makes Wu Fan want to press a hand against himself. “Suck me.”

Wu Fan does that, too. He chokes a little as he takes Lu Han all the way in; Wu Fan’s always had a small mouth for all the big talking he does, and the corners of his lips pull and his jaw aches. But then Lu Han is reaching down and dragging his fingers along Wu Fan’s jaw, soothingly, and Wu Fan doesn’t mind that his jeans feel too tight or that his throat aches because Lu Han is murmuring at him, sweet voice saying absolutely filthy things.

“I love the way your tongue feels there,” Lu Han rasps, and Wu Fan shivers at the rawness of it. He wraps a hand around Lu Han as he pulls up to take a breath, and Lu Han’s heated eyes meet his own, face flushed and lips parted and looking like a piece of sin Wu Fan can’t help but taste. “Just like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Duizhang, more,” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan thinks more might be his second favorite word that Lu Han says, and it makes him want to do anything and everything in his power to coax it out of him again.

Wu Fan’d never thought he’d ever do anything like this.

But Lu Han makes Wu Fan feel all sorts of things he’s never felt before, so maybe this is just an extension of that.

And maybe Wu Fan slips up, and his teeth scratch at the sensitive skin, but Lu Han brushes the hair out of Wu Fan’s eyes and just encourages him with long moans and delicious sighs that have Wu Fan straining against his trousers.

Wu Fan studies Lu Han as he holds Lu Han’s hips down. Lu Han is the image of pleasure, his eyes half lidded and skin a red color that goes all the way down his neck, disappearing into the collar of a shirt neither of them bothered to take off. His hands are clenched into the bedsheets now, and his hair is stuck to his skin with sweat, and he’s beautiful and falling apart to the rhythm of the slow rise and fall of Wu Fan’s eager and inexperienced mouth. Lu Han’s coherency is unraveling, his sentences no longer understandable, but Wu Fan gets the point, moving faster and prying one hand free to play with Lu Han’s balls. He slides a finger down, curiously, pressing along the ring of muscle that hides there, and Lu Han almost screams, and then he’s coming down Wu Fan’s throat.

Wu Fan manages to take most of it, a bit getting on his cheek as he pulls back, replacing his mouth with his hand, and Lu Han is shuddering beneath him, and Wu Fan relishes the cadence of his moans.

And then Lu Han is sitting up, falling over himself and onto Wu Fan, who just manages to sit back enough to comfortably catch an armful of Lu Han, who is kissing him all over the face and then diving into Wu Fan’s mouth, not seeming to mind that he’s tasting himself.

And Lu Han’s hand undoes Wu Fan’s jeans, and it’s only one stroke, two strokes, and then Wu Fan is coming too, grunting into Lu Han’s mouth as Lu Han winds their tongues together and kisses whatever breath Wu Fan had left right out of his lungs.

“Worth the wait,” Lu Han says, and Wu Fan chuckles as he pulls Lu Han close and presses his face into Lu Han’s hair. They’re quiet, for a moment, and the tinny strains of ‘Balloons’ can be clearly heard from Lu Han’s still playing iPhone, and Wu Fan’s heart is so full it might burst.

Later, as Lu Han puts tiny braids into Wu Fan’s hair that probably look comical (and Wu Fan will be mortified if he forgets and walks out of the comfort of this locked room and someone sees him), Wu Fan thinks that he’s never been more happy in his life.

When Lu Han falls asleep, drooling a little and hair fluffy and destroyed by perspiration and maybe from Wu Fan’s hands, which like to bury themselves in Lu Han’s hair as they make-out like high schoolers, Wu Fan whispers a secret against the skin of Lu Han’s forehead.

Maybe, Wu Fan thinks, next time, he’ll be able to say it aloud, but until then, he’ll just think of it as keeping Lu Han in anticipation.