sendanddelete (sendandreceive) wrote,

romaniranch fic dump 1 [bitter, empty taste of white]

bitter, empty taste of white

Title: Bitter, Empty Taste of White
Rating: R
Length: 8,600+
Pairings: Sehun/Suho, minor!Suho/D.O
Warnings: mentions addiction, therapy, age difference, masturbation
Summary: Oh Sehun is a teenage sex addict, sent to Joonmyun for gentle reform. Joonmyun isn't easily rattled, and he's dealt with a lot of things, but this kid seems hell bent on getting underneath his skin.

bitter, empty taste of white

“My name is Oh Sehun, and I am a sex addict.”

Joonmyun glances discreetly around the office that currently contains only the two of them.

“Sehun,” Joonmyun begins, forcing down a genuine hearty chuckle. “That’s not how we do things. This isn’t alcoholics anonymous.”

Sehun quirks a brow. “Really? I thought that was my first step or whatever, admitting that I’m not just a horny teenager.”

This boy, caught somewhere between sexually suggestive and perpetually bored is where Joonmyun would toss his expression. It’s like he’s got come-to-bed eyes that promise more sleep than sex.

“While I am actually inclined to agree with your categorization of things, I think it’s best if we start off somewhere a little more basic. Why don’t you tell me why you think you’re here?” Joonmyun asks, smiling intently.

Sehun sighs, and his pinched face only tells a tale of recalling utterly mind-numbing memories. “I am very sexually active at school, and it gets me into trouble. Mainly because ninety-nine percent of my sexual activity happens with adults. That one sophomore was a fluke.”

“Adults that work at the school?” Joonmyun asks, forcing his voice to bland impassivity.

“Teachers, class aides, nurses. A coach or two, on a good day.”

“You seem oddly proud of this,” Joonmyun states, looking down at his notepad.

He diligently scribbles the words 'coaches may have come in pairs' on the paper.

“Not much else to be proud of, unfortunately.”

Self respect, that’s usually a fairly popular one, Joonmyun thinks.

“You’ve gotten some of your teachers fired, I understand?”

“Not on purpose,” Sehun quickly ammends, leaning forward for a glimpse at Joonmyun’s pad, as if this were a police interrogation. “That’s not like... why I do it.”

“Why do you do it?” Joonmyun tilts his head in curiosity.

“Sex is pretty nice, I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced it-”

“Why adults?” Joonmyun pointedly asks.

“Maybe I like feeling special, like some kind of treat, or prize or something,” Sehun mumbles, and Joonmyun sends him a concerned look. Sehun stiffens in his seat when he notices. “Or maybe I’m just a rebel... or whatever.”

Joonmyun nods slowly, scribbling onto his pad. 'Craves attention'.

“Are you here of your own free will, or did you parents force you into this?”

Sehun laughs hollowly. “Well I didn’t fucking sign myself up for this.”

“Alright, I want to try something,” Joonmyun says, setting aside his pad on the table, and leaning forward, elbows perched on his knees. “For every question I ask you, you get to ask me one.”

“Any question I want?” the boy asks cautiously.

“Anything,” Joonmyun confirms.

“Alright, you first.”

“What’s your favorite hobby outside of school?” Joonmyun asks.

“Weak starter, I’m disappointed,” Sehun smirks, “Porn. Or wait- does the internet in general count? Whatever, both. My turn: have you ever fucked, or been fucked, by a man?”

Joonmyun resists the urge to roll his eyes. How utterly predictable.


Sehun grins wildly. “Perfect. Ask me something juicier this time.”


It all really compacted itself to an actual, tangible start on their fourth session together.

“What is it you dream about?”

Sehun smirks, his stance echoing the usual display of nonchalance. “What, so you can psychoanalyze that shit, too? Find some reason to guess recessed past abuse or something? I hate my parents, but that’s just because they’re fucking annoying.”

Joonmyun, luckily, possesses an immense amount of patience.

“No, that’s not it at all,” he continues steadily. “You mentioned your dreams last time, but you didn’t talk about them. We don’t have to talk about them, though.”

Sehun laughs, harsh and borderline mocking, leaning back into the sofa. “Why? Is there some sort of pill for sex addicts?”

Joonmyun slowly shakes his head. “I can’t prescribe you pills, Sehun, I’m not a doctor. Only a counselor.”

Sehun’s smirk slips off his expression, as though someone splashed him in the face and left it to drip dry. “You sure you wanna know?”

“If you want to tell me, yes.”

“I dreamed about you,” the boy says evenly, face almost more stoic than usual. “You sucking me off on this couch, right during our session, my mother on the other side of that wall. You kept licking my balls and calling me ‘baby’, telling me to quiet down.”

Joonmyun swallows thickly, nodding. The heat he feels is insignificant enough to continue forward. “Sometimes our subconscious can do these things-”

“Bullshit,” Sehun interrupts. “You can’t let me just say that shit and not call me out for being inappropriate.”

Joonmyun sighs, placing his open hands flat against his lap. “Are you being honest?”


“Then it isn’t inappropriate. I’m here to listen to you,” Joonmyun speaks slowly, dipping his head to ensure Sehun can see the expression on his face when he speaks. “I can take it.”

Sehun smirks. “I bet you can.”


Joonmyun is not a doctor.

His office is part of a family center, second floor. A modest, quiet place that plays muted new-age tunes mixed with pop, ideal if you like a little bit of Enya with your Katy Perry. He shares the office with a massage therapist, splitting the rent.

In fact, his home looks more clinical than his office does. At home he has no clutter, everything is clean and disinfected, nothing out of place because hardly anything ever gets used.

He lives here, but he doesn’t. His life is in that office. It’s in the sofa he brought from his first dorm at college, it’s in the desk he put together from Ikea the day he’d tacked his nameplate on the door of that place. It’s in the smattering of books he has lining the shelves, all his own purchases, all things he’s read.

Home is a place to sleep - living is a place to feel purpose.


“How many patients do you see a day?”

They’re on their sixth session now. Sehun is getting more comfortable with him, opening up a bit, at least enough that he feels like asking his own questions without having to be prompted to.

“I don’t see patients, I see people,” Joonmyun says firmly, ignoring the way childish way Sehun rolls his eyes. “And it depends on the day, maybe four or five, sometimes more.”

“Do you forget about me when I leave?” His expression shifts so subtly from unamused to vulnerable, it nearly makes Joonmyun dizzy with how hard it is to notice.


“Why do you write shit down, then?” Sehun jerks his chin in the direction of the pad on Joonmyun’s lap.

“So I can remember the finer details, like names or places. I don’t ever forget you, though.”

Sehun nods, much in the same way one would when they’re appreciating a fine piece of artwork they don’t understand, or when you want someone to think you’re listening intently to their words of wisdom when in reality you’d rather be anywhere else.

Sehun has that air to him, Joonmyun notes, like he’s an animal stuck in a cage here.

“I dreamed about you again, you know,” Sehun says, after a palpable bout of silence between them.

“Yeah? Do you want to tell me about it?”

Sehun nods slow, contemplating. “You kissed me this time, and told me I was worth something.”

Glancing up from his notes, Joonmyun asks, “Has anyone ever told you that before? That you’re worth something?”

“No,” Sehun answers immediately, and there’s this irritating tug at Joonmyun’s consciousness that tells him he’s lying, that this is all a ploy, he’s playing you.

Joonmyun vehemently ignores it.

“Well, I think you are. I think you’re sharp, and I think you’re destined for something bigger than this town. Most wild personalities don’t fit in these kinds of confined spaces.”

“So why are you still here then?” Sehun asks it so innocently, like the comparison between Joonmyun and himself is so normal and easily comprehended.

Joonmyun stifles the laugh, but he smiles when he says, “I’m not exactly wild.”

Sehun grins.


There are benefits to having a well compartmentalized life. Emotional attachment is always kept at a safe distance, and the comforts of home are not something Joonmyun ever yearns for.

Everything he is is a separate instance; a sectioned slice, much like an orange, each with it’s own protective skin-like layer.

Kyungsoo is one slice, his boyfriend of just over a year now, and the single most significant contributor to the dull roar of everything that’s ever been constant in Joonmyun’s life.

Work is another, all the people squished together in the respective shell of his office. The benefits to working in a profession for so long are you learn the tricks of the trade, one of them being how not to take your work home with you.

There are other sections too, things like home, or hobbies, or things from his past. The bottom of the line is that he’s perfected this life to suit him to the best of his ability. Nothing ever truly unsettles it, and he’s okay with that. It all works well for him.

This makes it all the more frustrating the first time he starts to think it.

“Something on your mind?”

Joonmyun blinks his unfocused vision away from the window, away from the water cascading down the glass and blurring his view of the street, and focuses solely on Kyungsoo.

“Not really, just... leftover dregs from work, I guess.”

“Hm, yeah,” Kyungsoo hums thoughtfully, a practiced stance to show he’s listening. The only thing he’s missing is the obvious acknowledging nod. “Listen we have Yifan’s rehearsal dinner we need tuxes for, and I want to just keep mine at your place, if I can. Your apartment is shockingly immaculate, it’ll keep me from having to worry about it.”

“Sure,” Joonmyun says, offhandedly glancing at people passing by the restaurant, or at what he can see of them. It takes awhile for him to notice that his eyes tend to rebelliously linger on anyone with blond hair.

“You could invite me over, you know?” Kyungsoo dips his head down as he asks, his tone verging on annoyed.

“Do you want to come over?”

Kyungsoo sighs, slumping down in his seat. It’s an odd thing to really notice, and with equally odd timing, but he looks more petulantly bored than Sehun usually does.

“No, not when you only ask because I tell you to.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just... been a little distracted lately, I don’t know what it is,” Joonmyun says, reaching over to stroke the back of Kyungsoo’s hand reassuringly. The only thing it really manages to assure is how long it’s been since the spark between them fizzled out.

“Well, when you come back to the world of the living, please remember we have a wine tasting next weekend,” Kyungsoo states, voice completely bland and utterly devoid of interest. “I can’t get my deposit back, so we might as well.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t come home with him, even though he makes sure to ask again before they part ways for the night. Their relationship has been a little more than stale, but that’s not why he’s so distracted.

And it definitely isn’t the guiding force behind his fingers pressing into the keys of his laptop, typing out the words ’blond, twink, 18’.

His pulse races in a way it hasn’t in years.

Joonmyun stares at the head of light hair on his screen, whose face is currently buried in a bush of black, jaw practically unhinged. The slurping sounds are unsettling, and it makes him shift uncomfortably, leaning forward quickly to mute his laptop. The boy on the screen looks up, and his eyes are green, and too wide - it doesn’t feel quite right. He closes that tab and shuts his laptop closed, running a tired hand through his hair, down over his face.

Stroking his cock slowly, Joonmyun goes into that place where his mind empties out, and all he can focus on is physical sensation; his fingers twisting around the head of his cock, tugging the heated skin. He closes his eyes and angrily wills away the image of Sehun.

Sehun, on his knees, his chest flushed pink, thighs trembling. His mouth is red and swollen, his eyes glistening, moisture sticking to his eyelashes and clumping them together, making them look darker than they are.

No, Joonmyun forces himself to think of his office instead, his second home, empty except for himself.

Cleanse the mind - release is all he chases.

A hollow burn settles in the pit of his groin, and he’s close, focusing on the rough friction of his hand. He keeps his eyes closed and focuses on the quiet of the office, of the nothing that happens there in between seeing people throughout his day.

In his mind, the door clicks softly when it opens, and Joonmyun whimpers because Sehun is there, dressed in hi-top converse and jeans, backpack slung over one shoulder. He comes in and drops to his knees in front of Joonmyun, nuzzling his face into his groin so that all Joonmyun can see is a head of blond hair.

Joonmyun gasps, forcing his eyes open, staring up at the white of his ceiling and making himself focus on that; the lack of color, the quality of emptiness it seems to signify.

Empty, thats all he needs, and he’s so close.

When he comes his eyes shut again, and there is Sehun’s face, flushed and slick with his come, grinning up at him from the ground.


Sehun seems happier than usual, almost pleased with himself. If Joonmyun didn’t know any better, he’d think Sehun knew what he’d done, but that’s impossible.

“Is it bad that I get excited when I come here now?” the boy asks tentatively.

“No,” Joonmyun smiles softly, the weighted tension in his chest lightening, “That’s good, you’re accepting me as someone who wants to help you, this is progress.”

Sehun tilts his head when he smirks. “That’s not why I get excited.”

If there were a panic button he could reach, Joonmyun would use it.

“Do you want to tell me why?” he asks slowly.

Sehun inhales slowly, like he’s savoring this. Joonmyun can’t begin to understand why, but it doesn’t feel forced or calculated, so he leans back and lets the boy speak.

“Thinking about spending time alone with you, I wait for it. Like I wake up and it’s the first thing I realize about the day, and most times I’m already hard,” Sehun laughs softly when he says this, and Joonmyun swallows tightly. “The way you let me talk to you like this, I like it. I get off on it, on watching you squirm, even though you’re really good at hiding it.”

“Sehun, I don’t think we-”

“If you tell me to stop talking about this, I’m not coming here anymore. I need this, even if it’s nothing,” Sehun interrupts angrily.

“What is it you need?”

Sehun smirks. “The fantasy of getting you to finally crack.”

Joonmyun quirks a brow. “So it’s the fantasy you seek? Not the sexual release?”

“No, it’s just,” Sehun sighs, running the length of his jaw with his palm. “You’re different.”

“What makes this different?” Joonmyun asks, pointedly refusing to refer to ‘this’ as ‘me’.

Sehun smiles, and this time it feels like there’s no devious backing behind it.

“You’re the first adult that hasn’t given in to me.”


Yifan’s rehearsal dinner is finished, but Kyungsoo’s tux is still in his closet.

They’re off away at the vineyards for the weekend, and Joonmyun couldn’t be more ready for a distraction.

It’s a nice little place, quaint and elegant. The walls are all panels of wood, draped with comforting fabrics and adorned with antique furniture. They’d opted out of renting a room for the night, Joonmyun choosing to drive them both home. It might be a moderately miserable attempt at a date, but Joonmyun is at least keen to enjoy himself. Kyungsoo is too, if the way he guzzles down the wine is any indication.

The winery also boasts a homemade Irish cream liqueur that Joonmyun adopts as his drink of choice for the night, considering it to be a little lighter than the wines - perhaps more decadent, something outside the norm to indulge in. He sips it with ice, like a liquid dessert, and lets the drone of monotonous country-folk conversation keep him awake.

Kyungsoo looks like he wants to protest Joonmyun’s decision to go all out Bailey’s knockoff, but the words manage to die in his throat before he can spit them out. They haven’t had sex in over a month, it’s probably bound to come bursting forth in some form, sooner or later.

Joonmyun’s beeper goes off a few hours into the night, the one he lists on his business card for work, and he excuses himself from the table of executives and brokers to go check on it. He steps outside into the cool night air, inhaling in gulps that couple with his dizzied alcoholic state to make him a little bit light headed.

He finds a nice spot in one of the unlit garden areas near the vineyard driveway, leaning against the wall, and his heart thuds uncomfortably when he sees the number on his pager and recognizes it. He braces himself on the wall, heaving in the fresh air like it’ll quell the nerves of unease.

Joonmyun reluctantly pulls out his phone, and dials.

“Sehun? Is everything alright? I got your page.”

“Joonmyun,” Sehun whines loudly. Joonmyun can’t tell if it sounds like the boy is crying or moaning, and the fact that the latter is even a thought he entertains right now is a worry.

“Sehun, talk to me,” he says levelly.

Joonmyun hears increased breathing on the other end of the line, and begins to panic. Sehun’s shuddering breath only increase in volume and tempo, and then added to it comes the obscene sounds of slick flesh on flesh, and it all clicks when Sehun groans.

“Jesus, Sehun, this is inappropriate now-”

“Tell me you haven’t thought about me,” Sehun gasps out. Joonmyun had half a mind to think Sehun paged him while someone was fucking him, but this confirms he’s alone. “I know you can’t lie, tell me you haven’t, and I’ll hang up and never come see you again.”

Joonmyun exhales, and it’s just cold enough to fog his breath enough to see it. “This is so unfair-”

“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna come.”


“Keep saying my name, please, fuck.”

Joonmyun’s grip on the phone tightens so hard, he worries it may snap in half in his palm. The world feels like it’s turned off out here, all pitch black and open fields, the only sounds are the faintest rustles and creaks of nature, and Sehun’s panting breath in his ear.

“S-Sehun,” he reluctantly complies.

Sehun lets out a sharp grunt, and Joonmyun can tell he’s dropped the phone with the way his voice is suddenly muffled. Letting loose a violently shaky breath, Joonmyun presses down on the painfully intrusive erection tenting his trousers, curling into himself as he puts almost all of his weight into leaning against the wall.

“You didn’t answer me,” Sehun’s voice startles him back from absently palming himself, out in the fucking open like some kind of pervert. But Sehun isn’t a pervert, is he? “Have you thought about me before?”

Sehun’s still panting, sounding not unlike a drowning boy finally surfacing for air, catching his breath. He sounds half out of it, but still ten times more aware than Joonmyun feels.

Sehun’s eyes, shining, his chest heaving, ribs expanding with every breath.

“I will lose my job,” Joonmyun whispers out desperately.

“You said I was worth something. You said I was better than this town, like you hate it here too, and here I am - I’m your ticket out of it,” Sehun says sharply.

Joonmyun wants to scream; wants to run into the field where the lights don’t reach, and tear tattered roots from the ground, and scream at the top of his lungs that no high school kid is ever going to give him what he wants, and why in the fuck the universe insists on testing his will on the subject.

“Answer me,” Sehun demands.

“Yes. Yes, I have, okay? Please don’t do this to me again, please,” Joonmyun says, words a series of pulsing exhales, fear threaded with relief.

Sehun hums. “You sound good when you beg.”


“Have fun with your boyfriend,” is all Sehun says, before he hangs up.

Funny how this boy remembers Kyungsoo when Joonmyun had long since forgotten.


“What do you want out of life?” It’s Sehun’s turn to ask.

Joonmyun has yet to fill an entire page on Sehun. Most of everything he would usually jot down is all stuff he remembers effortlessly.

“Stability. Comfort, I guess. What most people want.”

Sehun regards him curiously. “You work full time, right?”

“Yes,” Joonmyun answers.

“Then don’t you kind of already give that to yourself?”

It’s been a long time since someone else has really stopped Joonmyun short to think.

“On top of that,” Sehun barrels on. “You’ve already got that, what else do you want? Think about shit you really want, not shit you think you deserve to have.”

“Um,” Joonmyun swallows, the heat now something that’s increasingly impossible to ignore. He rubs the back of his neck, dipping his head as if physically avoiding the question. “What do you want?”

“Fuck no, I asked you first. You tell me, I’ll tell you.”

This is dangerous. This is swallowing the barrel of a loaded gun, this is standing out in a storm holding a metal rod to the sky. Sehun’s notorious for getting people right where he wants them, right in the palm of his hand.

This is no longer a way to get the boy to open up to him - this is tempting temptation itself, and it’s oddly thrilling.

“I guess I want... something more sexually gratifying, okay? Now what do you want?” Joonmyun rushes through the words, keen to move past his admission, cursing himself for blushing furiously like he knows he is.

Sehun grins, taking in Joonmyun’s blatantly flustered exterior with mirth.

“You’re not so different from me. You want the same things I do, I just know how to ask for them,” Sehun says smoothly.

“Oh really?” Joonmyun prods, and then leans forward, body coiled with tension. “Asking them is letting your teachers fuck you in your own classes? Letting these people take advantage of you just because you want to get off on shattering their resolve, is that it?”

Sehun’s grin slips into a defensive smirk, and Joonmyun runs a hand over his face.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t taking advantage if I want it,” Sehun adds tersely.

“Sehun, you have no idea what you’re saying,” Joonmyun softens, leaning forward in his chair. For the first time, at least the first time he’s willing to acknowledge, Joonmyun wishes he could touch the boy. Even if it were just a reassuring hand on his knee.

“Yes, I do. It’s you that just misspoke,” Sehun grumbles.

Perhaps he has a point. Joonmyun isn't an expert, he's always worked with recovering addicts, but nothing like this. And truthfully, he doesn't feel like Sehun is honestly addicted to anything.


Kyungsoo’s tux is finally gone.

Along with his toothbrush, a few stray tshirts, his almond milk from the fridge. Kyungsoo, essentially, is gone, but Joonmyun notices the absence of the tux more vividly - it’s an actual ocular difference in his home.

Joonmyun doesn’t close his eyes when he touches himself anymore. In fact, now he doesn’t even touch.

He’ll use the detachable shower head, twisting until the pressure goes from spray to direct, forming a firm stream of water. He aims it at the underside of his cockhead, and sits and waits. The water pelts at his heated skin, a steadily unrelenting source of pressure, verging on punishing. Sometime he arches his hips, thrusting up against the stream, mimicking friction.

There’s a few reasons he prefers it this way. One of them is simple, and it’s just how good the warm water feels, steady and fluid against his cock. Another is the freeing of his hands, and in a way the ability to make it seem like he isn’t doing this to himself. It’s an oddly pleasant sensation, like jacking off when your hand is numb, a separate entity touching you, bringing you release. He still tries his hardest to focus on the white and the nothing, and every time he comes with his eyes forced open.

Sometimes he thinks he sees Sehun’s reflection in the water.


One of the added benefits of being a familial counselor over a registered doctor is the option for modified sessions - in this case the a-typical troubled-teen ‘meet the parents’ scenario. Though, calling it that now makes him feel oddly like a fucking sexual predator.

“I think I need to stop my sessions with your son,” Joonmyun says quietly to Sehun’s mother, breaking it to her gently, as one would explain the death of a pet to a child.

The woman merely blinks. “Has he touched you?”

Joonmyun’s eyes go wide. “No ma’am-”

“Have you touched him?”


“Then why? He likes you, he’s been a lot better. I thought he might’ve gotten to you, too, because he’s stopped. He hasn’t been suspended for a while, no teachers or aides have been fired. God, if I could just... give him to you, I would. I’m so tired.”

Joonmyun’s heart breaks when he looks at her and sees the underlayer of honesty beneath the words. Sehun only knows the stereotypical responses to his questions because he’s been fed them for so long.

“You kissed me this time, and told me I was worth something.”

Joonmyun takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

“I must insist. Your son is graduating soon, and he doesn’t need my assistance any longer. Unfortunately I need to free up my time for other people,” Joonmyun states firmly. The benefits of being your own boss.

Sehun’s mother scoffs, rolling her eyes almost belligerently.

“You realize you’ll upset him by doing this? He’ll probably find the next thing with legs and sleep with it just to make himself feel better,” she snaps, shifting uncomfortably on Joonmyun’s couch. Joonmyun vaguely wonders if Sehun can hear her outside his office.

“I think you gravely misunderstand your son. I suggest you talk to him yourself, you might learn something if you actually sit and listen.”

Joonmyun ushers her out, and leaves her before he has the chance to reach the reception area and see the look on Sehun’s face. He spends the rest of Sehun’s allocated hour alone in his office.


19 missed pages in two days.

None of them returned, all from the same number.

Joonmyun deletes every single one, turning off his pager for the first time in years.


Joonmyun startles from his dinner by an angry sounding knock on his door. His eyes are almost gravitationally pulled towards the closet, to the absence of Kyungsoo's rental tux, as if he needs a reminder that he doesn’t show up fuming anymore.

Still, that doesn’t mean it’s outside the realm of possibility, Joonmyun thinks as he stands from his table. It's been a few weeks since he left Kyungsoo, right around the time he'd told Sehun's mother he would no longer see him anymore. He’d been winding down for the night too, sadly. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it’s just a disgruntled neighbor.

What definitely feels outside the realm of possibility is for Sehun to show up at his home, unannounced. Unfortunately after opening his door, Joonmyun learns how very possible this is.

“How on earth do you know where I live?” he gapes at the boy.

Sehun barges in, choosing to answer only once he’s passed the threshold. “I have your first and last name, it isn’t exactly hard.”

Joonmyun stumbles backwards, as if the force of the boy walking is an immovably physical thing that he needs to make room for. Sehun actually stops once he’s in Joonmyun’s hallway, and this is the first time Joonmyun thinks he really looks his age - scared and vulnerable.

“I meant it when I said I needed you,” he admits brokenly, leaning his side against the wall, as if he’s too afraid to ask Joonmyun to sit so they can speak.

“Have you slept with anyone since?” Joonmyun blurts, testing the obviously unstable waters.


Joonmyun sighs with something like relief. “Then you didn’t-”

“I’ve been fucking miserable. I missed you so much, and I’ve never even touched you.”

Sehun steps forward, hand only just extended outward. Joonmyun impulsively steps back, now officially out of the hallway and into the bright white of his living room.

“Sehun, I can’t-”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Sehun asks, glancing around the place.

“What? Sehun, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Joonmyun says, laughing pitifully.


“No, Sehun-”

“Then we can do this,” Sehun presses, surging forward once again, until he nearly has Joonmyun pinned to the back of his own couch. “There’s no reason we can’t.”

Joonmyun frowns. “I’m not going to take advantage of you like other people have.”

“Bullshit, that’s the worst fucking excuse.”

The boy keeps advancing, until their bodies are almost flush with each other, until Sehun’s thundering heartbeat is something Joonmyun can see beneath the flimsy fabric of his shirt.

“What do you want from me?” Joonmyun practically whimpers.

“I want somewhere I can go where I don’t feel worthless anymore. I want someone I can feel that with, that has to be you,” the boy whispers.

Joonmyun lifts a hand up, placing his open palm against Sehun’s chest. He doesn’t push him back, but he doesn’t allow him to get any closer. That heartbeat he swore he could see is now something he feels with immense tactile clarity.

“Sehun, remember when I told you you were bigger than this town?” Joonmyun asks softly, and the boy nods. “I meant it. There’s plenty of people out there for you, people far better than me.”

Sehun sighs heavily and moves backwards, until Joonmyun has to reach his arm out to stay connected to his chest - at which point, he drops his hand.

“You were right you know,” Sehun mutters.


“I needed to get out, no- I did get out. I’m going away for college, in the city.”

Sehun at least looks somewhat hopeful for a change, and the idea that he had any part in that is making his home, for once, feel like something well lived in.

“Sehun, that’s wonderful,” Joonmyun breathes out, smiling wide.

“You did it for me, you know,” Sehun mumbles, scratching timidly at the underside of his chin, and gazing up at Joonmyun from beneath his lowered lashes. “I didn’t even think of leaving as an option before.”

Joonmyun’s smile only grows when he exhales in relief. “I think it’ll be great for you, you’ve always seemed like-”

“Come with me,” Sehun dryly interrupts.


“You hate it here too, I know you do. Come with me, we can get an apartment together, downtown,” Sehun presses, moving forward again. “I can go to college, you can find a new office.”

“Sehun, I can’t do that. I already have a job.”

Sehun’s expression hardens. “Is that all you have?”

“The answer is no.”

“Then give me tonight,” Sehun openly pleads. “I’m not paying you for this, let me give you something you want for once.”

“There’s nothing I want, Sehun-”

“There is. That sexual whatever you once told me you wanted, let me give it to you. Tell me how to do it, I’ll do anything.”

Joonmyun chews almost angrily on his lower lip, frustrated at even allowing this a moment’s consideration. Sehun is already off his books now, and despite the boy’s continual persistence, he will eventually reach that point where he may never see him again. That point feels unerringly close right now.

Joonmyun blushes fiercely at the mere thought of asking this boy to do something for him. “I don’t know how to ask you for anything.”

“What if I tell you what I want, hm?” Sehun presses. “Think of it as a goodbye present.”

Joonmyun continues to bite at his lower lip until it feels tender and swollen. Sehun’s eyes drop to his mouth a few times, and Joonmyun suppresses a shiver when he notices.

“Show me what you do when you think of me,” Sehun asks quietly, his eyes having significantly darkened.

Joonmyun laughs nervously. “It’s a little... specific.”

Sehun grins. “Even better. Show me, Joonmyun.”

Inhaling, Joonmyun’s protests are perched at the edge of his lips, ready to pelt forward and push Sehun away again, but for some reason this time, he can’t. Sehun is leaving, and despite all neurological synapses telling Joonmyun to think otherwise, he’s old enough to know what he wants.

Joonmyun relents after a short moment of silence, and leads them both to his bathroom, standing on wobbly legs once they’re there. Sehun stands behind him, his energy brimming with anticipation, so vibrant Joonmyun can almost physically feel it touch him, stroking gently at his skin.

The minute Joonmyun lifts the detachable shower head from its holster, Sehun’s eyes darken significantly, and his jaw drops an almost imperceptible difference.

“You use this?” Sehun asks heavily.

Joonmyun nods.

“I want to see.”

Joonmyun strips down, his heart thumping like a rabbits foot against his chest, and he focuses on the white of the walls and ceiling, reminding himself this is all clinical - even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth now. Sehun, in an oddly endearing moment of clarity, takes off his own shirt, as if to make Joonmyun feel more comfortable in their shared nudity, and his affection for the boy surges wildly.

Joonmyun resists the gut cinching urge to kiss him.

There’s no time to fill the tub and bask in the warmth of the water rippling over his skin, so instead Joonmyun sits on the edge of the tub, inside it with feet planted on the bottom, facing Sehun.

He’s painfully hard, but that’s not what he focuses on. Once he turns on the water, he switches the stream to direct, and waits for it to reach optimal temperature. The only thing that forces Joonmyun’s coherency away from detached roboticism and back to human interaction is the sound of Sehun’s helplessly uneven breath.

Explaining what he’s doing seems to push it a little too far, so Joonmyun wordlessly holds up the shower attachment, only a few inches from the head of his dick. He’s so hard that he jolts from the pressure when the water hits him, and then startles once more when he catches Sehun’s groan.

“You get off like this?” Sehun asks breathily.

Joonmyun nods silently again.

Sehun stares like he’s watching a presentation on his most valued and involved subject. Joonmyun never moves the hand that’s holding the shower head, but he does move his hips. Around the third or fourth thrust up into the stream of water, something in Sehun snaps.

The boy surges forward, knocking the shower head from Joonmyun’s hand, and upending it until it’s awkwardly spraying them both from where it’s clattered to the bottom of the tub. Sehun is holding him pressed against the tile - mouth hot, wet, and seeking - and Joonmyun gasps when the boy’s fingers add pressure to his rapidly expanding and contracting ribcage.

Sehun kisses like he needs it to survive; like the small little gasps and moans he pulls from Joonmyun are the fuel that keeps his flame from flickering, like if he can’t lick into every crevice of Joonmyun’s mouth, something horribly quick and painful will happen. His fingers are gripping so tight at Joonmyun's body, digging small angry crescents into his skin.

Slowing it down, Joonmyun aims to calm Sehun with his kisses, to heal the urgency with which Sehun insists on touching him. His lips are slick, and they slide deliciously against Sehun’s, and eventually it’s like the harried magnetism that drew Sehun’s mouth to his own polarizes itself and he allows himself to drop it lower, kissing the column of his throat.

Wet trails of spit are left behind in the wake of Sehun’s warm mouth trailing down his chest, but every trace is washed away with the spray of the shower head that neither of them are in any fit state to notice, let alone set upright.

When Sehun’s mouth hovers over his navel, warm, moist puffs of air have Joonmyun’s stomach muscles spasming uncontrollably.

“You can tell me to stop,” Sehun says quietly.

“Don’t,” Joonmyun chokes out, and he sighs out ribbons of tension when Sehun looks up at him from his lowered position, allowing Joonmyun to see how dark brown his eyes are beneath all the blond. “Don’t stop.”

When Sehun swallows the head of his cock, it’s like the world could be made of white everything - white walls, white clouded air, white noise - and Joonmyun will still be overwhelmed with the sensations from this boy. He doesn’t move further down, because Joonmyun’s fairly sure his nightly ritual had revealed his obvious preference, and he focuses on the tip, lapping his warm tongue against the underside, digging into dip beneath the slit.

They’re both completely soaked by the time Joonmyun comes, and Sehun is shivering when he swallows it all down, throat muscles bobbing in strain. Joonmyun swipes the pad of his thumb across the swell of the boys lower lip, and gently pushes him back until he's fallen into the tub, sloshing around the shallow layer of water.

Still naked and damp himself, Joonmyun crawls between the boys legs. Taking off his pants when they're wet is an immense lesson in testing his patience, but he does it eventually, even if Sehun does allow himself a soft laugh at his struggle.

Sehun's cock is huge though, taking it in his mouth stretches the limits of his lips until the corners of his mouth sting they're so taut. Joonmyun slides his mouth down Sehun's length, as far as he can go, and then pauses. There's a minute sliver of panic that flashes before him, where he's half worried he's going to fucking choke on this.

Sehun hums then, reaching down and threading his fingers through Joonmyun's hair, and says, "God, you feel good."

He slowly begins to adjust his mouth and starts to suck, running his tongue along the underside. What he can't reach of the boy's cock, he holds with his hand, and Sehun is so good for him - he hardly thrusts, or does anything that could potentially make this uncomfortable.

Joonmyun pulls off of Sehun when he gasps out that he's close, and watches as Sehun spills slippery and hot onto his own stomach. The shower head is still spouting a stream of water behind him, and he picks it up and uses it to wash Sehun's stomach off. The boy jolts, but then laughs when he sees what it is he's using.

It's frustrating, because his jaw aches, his limbs are tired from having to position himself in the tub, and his entire body is still damp and cold, but this is the most content he's felt in a long time. Sehun doesn't stay, though, and somewhere in between“Let me dry your pants” and “I have to go” there’s a modicum of regret that manifests itself.

Regret that he let this happen, for starters, but also regret that it hadn’t happened sooner. Regret that he’s never met another soul like Sehun, and the pinched pain that follows at the realization that he probably never will again.

This boy is leaving him here, and Joonmyun’s pathetic bath tub routine will always pale in comparison to him - to what he really wants.


Kyungsoo’s tux is gone, but Kyungsoo is back.

Three years later, only now he isn’t back in the way he was before. Now, he appears as more of a disjointed voice of reason, a body that doesn’t flow with a mind, almost as though the two had been forced together.

“Explain to me again why you feel the need to leave this town,” Kyungsoo asks, gesturing around him as if the greener pastures were a place they both already existed in.

“I told you, I can earn more money in the city. I’ll have a bigger office, better advertising. I even have a receptionist who schedules my appointments, this is a big deal for me.”

Kyungsoo regards him sternly for a moment, before nodding and dropping his gaze.

“Are you running from something?” he asks casually.

Joonmyun scoffs.

“I’m serious,” Kyungsoo presses, “I would say maybe I scared you away with my tendency to act like a jilted wife, but I think you would’ve left long before now if that were the case. So what is it? What is it you need to get away from?”

“I’m serious,” Joonmyun laughs good naturedly, genuinely amused. “I’m not running. If anything... I’m chasing something.”

“Like what?” Kyungsoo asks, expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “Don’t tell me a tight piece of ass, I will slap a chastity belt on you and make you work through your disloyalty.”

Joonmyun’s chest feels oddly tight for reasons he refuses to acknowledge. At least not in front of Kyungsoo, anyway. He never actually cheated, but it felt like he did.

“What was that about not being a jilted wife?” Joonmyun prods.

Friendly disloyalty,” Kyungsoo clarifies. “As in I’m angry at you for abandoning my coffee dates and gossip sessions, not... sex, or anything like that.”

“Well, if you must know, it’s just the job. It’s the same comfort I have but in a new uncomfortable environment, I need it,” Joonmyun says, in his firmest ‘I’m done discussing this now’ voice.

“Alright,” Kyungsoo relents. “As long as you promise to write me.”

“This is the modern digital age you know, there are now things quicker than taking a quill to parchment,” Joonmyun chides.

Kyungsoo actually laughs.

“As if I’d ever expect you to know how to wield technology.”

Touche. Joonmyun punches in a reminder on his phone to buy postage stamps, but gives up when his phone repeatedly insists on spelling it as ‘postage stains’.


Joonmyun’s new apartment in the city feels anything but clinical. It had character instilled in it’s framework before Joonmyun even moved in, a history there that’s as old as the mortar it’s built on, but it isn’t captured there.

It’s stuck in the grain of the hard wood floors, it’s tucked away into the corners of the vaulted ceilings, in the swell of the floor length bay windows. Joonmyun sleeps on his bed with no sheets, because he can, because his mattress is soft enough to not irritate his skin without barrier. He eats from the pot to keep the dishes from piling up dirty, and he feels alone, and intimidated, but it actually feels okay.


Receptionists are an odd sort of creature. The kind that are almost telepathic in the way that they know what to do for you without even having to ask. This woman he’d barely met before is now the one handling his people (she calls them patients, Joonmyun tries not to visibly flinch every time she does).

City people are different than townsfolk. City people seem to live drama, and live it fast, where townsfolk are almost always downtrodden by the molasses drip of life passing them by. The city is exciting as much as it is enriching, and Joonmyun’s day passes in a blur of missed connections and recovering addicts, people searching for something within themselves and needing a guiding hand to find it.

By the time his last appointment rolls around, Joonmyun is half a caffeine pill away from crippling exhaustion. His mind is reeling with new names and faces, hand cramped from excessive note taking, and his stomach still roiling in a mix of nerves and excitement.

His secretary quietly pops her delicately indestructible face into the doorframe. It’s kind of like having a petite bodyguard at his disposal.

“Your last patient is here: Mr. Kim Jongin,” she says.

“Ah, send him in.”

Joonmyun quickly shuffles his paperwork, trying to organize what he can so that it can be better organized later when he isn’t overwhelmed, and he nearly swallows his own esophagus when he looks up at the sound of the door clicking shut and sees the person waiting for him.

“What happened to not having patients, only people?” a familiar voice asks.

A hand is extended, and Joonmyun grasps it, squeezing enough that his nails dig into the flesh.

“Mr. Kim, huh?” Joonmyun asks, somewhat dazedly.

Sehun grins, and Joonmyun swears he feels the subtle shifts of the earth beneath his feet, the gentle rumble of it turning on its axis, reminding him that it never once stopped moving.

“Have a seat,” he gestures to his couch, and then feels oddly self conscious of it being brand new.

“Before you ask,” Sehun begins unprompted, settling himself back against the cushions. “I have cured myself of my dastardly addiction, and am now a functioning member of society.”

Joonmyun would laugh, if he felt like he could.

“Why the fake name, Sehun?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Was a little worried you might not have wanted to see me, but here you are. In the city, the same city I told you I ran to,” Sehun eyes him, borderline suspicious.

“Feeling at risk of relapse, or?” Joonmyun asks, forcing his tone to be light. This doesn’t have to be awful, not every ending is ever all that final. This only serves to prove, he supposes.

“You get a question, I get one,” Sehun says sharply, and Joonmyun’s throat feels oddly tight and dry. “Why are you here? Tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” Joonmyun laughs nervously, running the words through his head, a last ditch attempt at memorizing lines. “The truth is I got this job, and it’s a good one. I get my own office, but I don’t have to pay my own taxes anymore, and I get paid more overall.”

“Congratulations,” Sehun says genuinely, and Joonmyun picks up on the way his expression shifts towards sadness.

“I never forgot you were here, though,” he quickly adds. “I think that was always in the back of my mind.”

Sehun nods quietly, thinking.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“My turn for questions,” Joonmyun smiles when he catches Sehun’s unamused huff. “How did you know I was coming here?”

Sehun shrugs. “I have your first and last name, it isn’t exactly hard.”

“Okay,” Joonmyun says, followed by a deep breath. “No, I’m not seeing anyone. I think that question would be better suited to you, though, since you’ve lived here for a while.”

“Not seeing anyone anymore, but you know- I’ve actually had a few normal relationships, go figure.”

“Can I say I told you so?” Joonmyun asks with a smile.

Sehun snorts, smirking. “Of course you can’t.”

Joonmyun laughs, taking in the pleasant tilt to the boy’s lips, to the way he’s seated so comfortably, so sure in his own skin. He’s more a man than a boy now, but Joonmyun will never forget how he was before he left.

“Lets start with the basics then,” Joonmyun settles into his seat, pulling forth his notepad. “Why are you here?”

Sehun’s small, delightfully full lips form the tiniest of smiles. “I’m here because I’m chasing the man I fell for when I was eighteen years old.”

Joonmyun exhales shakily. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And perhaps I’d like to see if he wants to go on a date with me. Could snag some dinner, catch a movie.” Sehun licks his lips and his contented smile slowly turns into a smirk. “Maybe a shower?”

Joonmyun sighs, though he’s smiling all the way through it. “Alright,” he says, brightening when Sehun absolutely lights up.

“So who’s Kim Jongin, then?” Joonmyun asks, half because of the shock at hearing his own last name associated with Sehun.

“My first real boyfriend, I guess you could say,” Sehun spouts proudly. “He was actually my age too, which was a nice change.”

“That must have been good for you,” Joonmyun says sincerely, praying to some unknown deity that Sehun’s warped view on sexual encounters hasn’t been permanently molded into the negative.

“Oh, he was good,” Sehun says slyly, “Kind of hydrophobic though, wasn’t really my thing.”

Joonmyun huffs at Sehun’s barely concealed grin. “You’re never going to let that die, are you?”

“Never. That was probably the single best night of my life, I hope you know this.”

Joonmyun squints when he notices the hard glint of truth in Sehun’s eyes. “Mutual blowjobs while being drenched by a spray of water equates to the best night of your life?”

“Yes,” Sehun answers firmly.

It’s the first time he’s felt this kind of excitement and not felt guilty over it in years. Sehun has completely grown into himself, heknows who he is, despite everyone trying to tell him they knew better. His hair is still fried blond, and he still dresses like a teenager, but he’s so undeniably beautiful. Joonmyun is ready for his extra special something.

“Never change,” he mutters.

Sehun grins. “Don’t plan on it.”

Tags: fic dump, pairing: suho/sehun, rating: r, romaniranch

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