fourcoldpaws: (baek)
[personal profile] fourcoldpaws
sebaekkaiyeol. nc-17. 3718 words. (for and because of ruby because she asked so nicely.)
in which jongin, baekhyun and chanyeol discover that sehun has a very sensitive back.

“Hey,” Sehun says suddenly. “Hyung.”

It’s actually an entirely pointless attempt of address since it applies to all present individuals of the room, but when none of the other two hyungs seem to feel considerably addressed Jongin decides to conclude that he’s the one in question, and grunts out a;


“Hyung,” Sehun says again. There is something tight over his voice. Jongin bothers tearing his gaze away from the TV to shoot him a glance. Chanyeol lifts his head off the floor to do the same.


“Could you…” Sehun sits perched on the very edge of the couch cushion, and bent so far forward that his chest almost hangs down between his knees. Jongin can just barely see right into his ear from this angle. A small shift of Sehun’s jaw lets Jongin know that his tongue has slipped out to wet his lips.


“Could you scratch my back?”

Also Baekhyun turns his head. Jongin’s eyes fall down towards his own left hand that had landed on Sehun’s lower back at the last gag a rough ten minutes ago, and then apparently stayed there. The muscles of Sehun’s jaw shift again.

“It’s, uh,” he says. Shift shift. “Itchy.”

Jongin notes Baekhyun glancing at Chanyeol, Chanyeol glancing at Jongin, and Sehun not glancing at anyone at all, before returning to the hand against the blue t-shirt. He curls his fingers a little. Sehun twitches.

“Uh,” Sehun says. “Un. Under.”


There is a sharp shift at Sehun’s jaw. His hand jerks out, reaching back to inch the hem of his shirt upwards, just a teensy bit. Baekhyun glances at Chanyeol, Chanyeol glances at Sehun and Sehun refuses to glance anywhere other than straight ahead. Jongin glances at the thin strip of skin bared above the waist of Sehun’s jeans.

He traces a nail along it.

“Hooh,” Sehun squeaks. And then clears his throat and adds in a slightly more dignified tone; “Oh yes right there. That’s where it’s itchy.”

Jongin scratches at him a little; two nails, three. Sehun’s torso sinks another bit deeper between his knees. The three nails move up the bumps of Sehun’s spine, across a shoulder blade, down faint lines of rib to a soft dip of waist, and out to the spine again. Jongin’s attention slowly returns to the TV. His hand keeps circling over Sehun’s skin almost by its own accord.

After a little while Sehun excuses himself, and doesn’t come back. When the show’s over and Jongin shuffles out towards the kitchen, the bathroom door is locked.


Jongin’s never really thought about Sehun’s back before. Or backs in general. He supposes he’s more of a front-person. That’s where boobs sit, after all.

It’s a nice back, though. When he does think about it. Sitting behind Sehun in class presents him a front-row view of it, and it actually is a nice back, now that he’s taking a better look. Wide shoulders, lean muscles, and sharp lines of bone visible even through the fabric of his t-shirt. A small shadow rests under his left shoulder blade.

Suddenly Jongin notes his own right hand reaching out over his desk. He watches the pencil slowly turning in his grip, inching further and further out between his fingers and over the backrest of Sehun’s chair. With his arm stretched out, the eraser-end of the pencil reaches just far enough give the shade a little


Sehun’s spine snaps up like a spring.

Jongin blinks. The pencil presses a little harder.

Sehun’s shoulders also shoot up, tensing him rigid and straight as an arrow in his seat.

The pencil moves a little to the left.

Sehun curves sideways, his right flank stretching out and quivering faintly.

The pencil runs down over his ribs.

A noise suspiciously similar to a whine escapes from Sehun’s jugular area. The professor at the front of the hall falls silent and looks up from her notes with a puzzled frown. Jongin swiftly withdraws his pen.


As Jongin at this point is still blissfully unaware of things, as his mind is still pure and unsullied; he doesn’t really think twice about mentioning this incident to Chanyeol and Baekhyun, just in passing at the breakfast table, like a child wouldn’t think twice about mentioning the funny little balloons he found in his parents’ bed-stand.

It’s easy to be wise with hindsight. It’s easy to feel that you should have known, should have seen, should have predicted. Should have remembered your roommates’ complete (in Chanyeol’s case) lack of and (in Baekhyun’s case) disregard for tact and grace. Should have realized that when Sehun shuffles his bleary ass into the kitchen Chanyeol is going to sneak up behind him, land two gigantic hands on his sides and rumble;

“Are you ticklish?”

Sehun gives a high-pitched yelp and jumps away, but Chanyeol swiftly scoops him back in and presses him up against the counter.

“Is that what it is?”

No,” Sehun snarls, leaning forward across the countertop in a vain attempt at reclaiming some of the personal space Chanyeol has encroached upon but instead only ends up granting him full access to the expanse of his back. “I mean, yes. Or. No. Nooo.” He tries to casually reach for a mug but almost drops it when Chanyeol sticks a hand up his shirt.

“So what is it then?” Chanyeol wonders and starts grating away over Sehun’s back with small, determined movements, each eliciting a strangled noise and little twitch that curls Sehun deeper over the countertop.

“What do you mean, is? Hnnf. Nothing. There’s nothing.” The last syllable jumps an octave or two higher than the rest as Chanyeol apparently finds a special spot. Chanyeol immediately returns to it to investigate it further. Sehun squirms horribly, stretches upwards and sideways and tries to wriggle out of Chanyeol’s grasp but Chanyeol only winds an arm around his waist and moves up between his shoulder blades.

“But your back is so sensitive,” Baekhyun assists from the kitchen table, studying the two with narrowed eyes.

“What’s it to you?” Sehun huffs out with a glare backwards. His ears are starting to flush a deep shade of pink.

“Especially here, right?” Chanyeol wonders merrily and flicks his pointer over that spot under Sehun’s ribcage again.

Gu-h,” Sehun says, landing a heavy hand on the countertop. His hips twitch back against Chanyeol’s, he’s all but trembling in the taller’s arms that’s when Chanyeol adds a second finger, scraping light just along the line of his last rib.

A loud noise grinds out of Sehun’s throat. Jongin meets Baekhyun’s gaze.

“You fucking—” Sehun growls and finally manages to push Chanyeol off him. His right hand immediately darts to tug the hem of his shirt down, first in the back and then in the front, stretching it far down over the front of his sweats with cramped fingers. Baekhyun meets Jongin’s gaze. “The fuck’s wrong with you!?” Sehun glares.

Chanyeol purses his lips.

Extends a sole finger towards Sehun’s waist.

Sehun punches his shoulder and storms out.


“He doesn’t dislike it,” Jongin determines over his lunch burger. “Obviously. I sort of did it when I was gonna wake him up the other day. He stretched out and purred like a fucking cat.”

Chanyeol shrugs. “He’s ticklish, simply. Just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Who the fuck reacts to tickling like he does?” Baekhyun snorts. “You weren’t there last night, when I—“

Jongin rolls his eyes. “For the last time Baek it was not a moan—

—He fucking moaned are you kidding me,” Baekhyun hisses. “That shit was obscene. Or this weekend when I pretended to brush dirt off his shirt—“

“You know, the fact that you’re doing it on fucking purpose is starting to get pretty fucking creepy.“

“Or last Wednesday, when I offered to give him a backrub—”

“Like you’re experimenting on him or something.“

“Just saying, all the signs—“

Jongin leans across the table to glare at him. “You’re seriously telling me that his entire back is some kind of gigantic erogenous zone, and—“

Sht-pt-pt,” Chanyeol interrupts them. “He’s coming.”

Jongin straightens his back and tries not to look red-handed, but Sehun only sends their table one long suspicious glare and swishes by with his tray towards Kyungsoo and Joonmyun at the other side of the cafeteria. He keeps his jacket on when sitting down to eat.

“Ten bucks Baekhyun has scared him out of the apartment by the weekend,” Chanyeol proclaims, slamming his hand down on the table. “What do you say, Jongin?”

Baekhyun tsks. “Fucking wuss.“

“Tickling can be really unpleasant,” Chanyeol informs him soberly. “Even if you’re laughing and all, it can really hurt, especially if you’re sensitive. Remember Yixing from—”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says patiently, rubbing the pad of his middle finger between his brows, “when people tickle you, do you use to start humping—?“

“I hope you do realize.” Jongin leans over the table again, fixing Baekhyun with his glare. “That if you’re right… we’re stimulating him. Sexually.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth, but then closes it again. Soon his right eyebrow quirks upwards.

Jongin groans. “Oh god.”


Chanyeol has something considerably tight over his face when he appears in Jongin’s doorway.

“Jongin,” he says.

“Yes?” Jongin says.


Jongin is led into Chanyeol’s room and prompted to sit on Chanyeol’s bed. When trying to determine whether there’s a reason behind the request Jongin’s only met with an insistent finger in the bed’s direction. He takes a tentative seat on the edge.

“By the wall,” Chanyeol orders. He speaks in an entirely uncharacteristic hushed tone, just barely above a murmur. There is something considerably tight over his voice as well. Jongin swiftly scoots back against the wall.

“Yes?” Jongin notes that also his voice comes out low.

“Just,” Chanyeol mumbles. He waves his finger in the general direction of the wall. Jongin carefully leans back against it.

He’s just about to remind Chanyeol that he has an exam to study for when realizing that there are noises coming from the other side of the wall. From Sehun’s room. He presses his ear to the wallpaper. They’re vaguely reminiscent of someone having an asthma attack while simultaneously hiccupping; squeaky, breathy, whiny little noises tumbling all over each other in an endless, irregular stream – hitching silent for a moment before starting again, breathless and impatient.

Jongin sends a glance at the uncomfortable frown on Chanyeol’s face.

A syllable vibrates through the wall and Jongin swallows to himself, involuntarily pressing his face back up against it. The stream of noises is inconspicuously but undoubtedly growing quicker, a little louder, mixing in with high-pitched grunts. Jongin shifts on the bed, swallowing again. Soon it’s down to wheezing, choking, stammering; with ever-increasing volume climbing a desperate crescendo of nonsensical whimpers (Jongin bites down on his lower lip) ultimately reducing itself to a pitiful, stuttered ah – ah – ah (Jongin’s nails press into his palms) before, after a short moment of sudden, unbearable silence (Jongin’s eyes squeeze shut), finally tipping off the edge of climax with a shrill, drawn-out wail.

The silence following is uncomfortably heavy on Jongin’s ears. He slowly opens his eyes. Chanyeol has his glasses in one hand and the bridge of his nose between the fingers of the other.

They both start at the sound of a door slamming shut. One single glance is exchanged before Chanyeol has his glasses back on his nose and is out in the hallway with Jongin soon in tow. They catch up with Baekhyun just outside the bathroom, Chanyeol elegantly crashing into the doorpost to block his way and Jongin snatching a harsh grip of his wrist.

“What the actual fuck,” Jongin sputters, but Baekhyun swiftly yanks his hand free to fist it behind his back. “Did you just fucking jack him off?”

“Why do you care?” Baekhyun snarls, yelping when Chanyeol grabs his wrist from the other side and spins him around to bring it up. “For fucks sake,” he barks, “I’m sure you’ve both seen semen before.”

“Was this the first time?”

Baekhyun shrugs noncommittally. He brings up his clean left hand to wriggle his fingers in the air. “His third rib is just ridiculous,” he says, “makes him squeal like a fucking pig.” He grins at Jongin. “In case you’d like to know.”

“What is wrong with you—“

“Shut up.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes and shoves Chanyeol away from the door. “I have a plan,” he says while soaping up his hands. “You can help out if you want.”


Jongin’s task is to keep Sehun’s hands out of the way. He can’t help but to feel that ending up with Sehun’s wardrobe door pressed up against his back and Sehun’s face pressed into the crook of his neck is a little more than he bargained for.

One the bright side, Sehun’s hands are occupied supporting Sehun’s weight against said wardrobe door and aside from the occasional swat when they attempt travelling south, Jongin doesn’t have to do much. He’s entirely free to concentrate on his best friend’s hot, damp breath on his neck, on his best friend’s strangled noises right by his ear, on each and every of his best friend’s little twitches and squirms as their two roommates trail twenty light, teasing fingers all over his naked back. Entirely free to try to think of a way to get through the rest of college without having to look his best friend in the eye ever again.

If Jongin tips his head to the left, straining his neck a little, he reaches just far enough past Sehun’s shoulder to shoot a glance down between them. Sehun’s cock is pitching a magnificent tent at the front of his sweats. It shudders vaguely where it stands, jerking up against Sehun’s belly for a moment before dipping back out in Jongin’s general direction.

Yet another mouthful of saliva forces itself down Jongin’s throat. He comes across Chanyeol’s eyes over Sehun’s shoulder when straightening his neck. They’re stupidly wide and unusually dark where they’re darting up from under his lashes. Jongin swiftly directs his gaze towards the ceiling instead.

Sehun’s hand twitches against the door. Jongin is ready when it slips downwards, immediately shooting down a hand of his own to curl it around Sehun’s wrist and bring it back up. He’s not quite as ready when Sehun’s other hand almost instantly darts down as well, and he can’t help but to let out a little oohf as Sehun’s weight hits his chest. He still diligently lets his own second hand dip, fumbling around and brushing against something clothed and suspiciously pointy before finding Sehun’s bony fingers and snapping them in a firm grip.

“But whyyyyyy,” Sehun sobs into Jongin’s neck, struggling against his hold for a moment before giving up and slumping against him.

“Uh. Sorry,” Jongin hears himself say, desperately scrutinizing the ceiling lamp. Baekhyun had made it very clear that letting the subject of the plan in on the plan was not a part of the plan. He had also made it very clear that fucking up would not be tolerated.

Jongin hadn’t asked what would happen if it didn’t work. Whether there was a timeframe or something to go by or whether they’d just keep going until someone tired. Or until Sehun got angry. Jongin may have seen something like this in a porno once, but if his few sexual escapades have taught him anything it’s that porn rarely is the most reliable source of information.

But if Baekhyun says “I wanna see if we can make him come without touching his dick”, then that is what they’re gonna do.

“Hey Sehun-ah,” Baekhyun hums. “How about licking?” He leans down over Sehun’s shoulder blade.

Fuck— fucking,” Sehun rambles, arching up towards Baekhyun’s mouth. Sehun had looked so strangely mature when Baekhyun had waltzed into his room to draw a soft finger up his spine, his voice entirely stable when shrugging okay to Baekhyun’s inquiry of whether he was up for some fun. He had slipped his shirt off with easy hands and something dark and focused glinting in his eyes that Jongin realized he has never seen before, that made Jongin find himself drawing his gaze over Sehun’s naked shoulders and wondering when they had grown so broad, wondering what happened to that brat one head shorter than himself who had flopped down in the seat next to him on the first day of junior high.

Now Jongin sees a little of that kid again; somewhere between Sehun’s strained wheezing and pathetic quivers he’s reminded of that time Sehun had fallen over with his bike and was sitting on the sidewalk with his scraped up arm in his hand and trying very, very hard not to cry.

Before he knows it, Jongin finds himself leaning some inch in towards Sehun’s ear and asking in a small voice; “Do you want us to stop?”

“What? No,” Sehun huffs. “No no no don’t stop, just let me—“ He works his right hand free from Jongin’s grip, but Jongin swiftly scoops it back up again.

You fuckers,” Sehun whines, slumping even closer to Jongin’s body and Jongin takes to staring holes into the ceiling lamp again because he can very much feel Sehun’s dick against his hip, bumping against him with each of Sehun’s violent tremors. Jongin hears, like from afar, Chanyeol’s voice shakily remarking h-hey, you’re gonna give him a hickey before Sehun’s right foot shuffles forward and he feels Sehun’s thigh pressing in between his own.

“Oh god,” Jongin breathes out, biting down on his lower lip. There is a wet, obscene noise as Baekhyun releases Sehun’s shoulder blade, sliding down to his knees to experiment on that spot beneath his ribcage instead, and Sehun’s hips twitch helplessly into Jongin’s – faintly first but then suddenly a little harder, and another bit harder, thighs rhythmically pressing against Jongin’s and grunts working themselves out of his throat and –


“Eh,” Jongin says, feeling how his body has stiffened against the door. He notes that his voice comes out with a slightly higher pitch that usual. “He’s humping me.”

“What?!” Baekhyun barks, immediately popping up over Sehun’s hunched shoulder, but Chanyeol has already wound an arm around Sehun’s waist to pull some air between the youngest two.

“You wanna get off, Sehun-ah?” Baekhyun says, digging his fingers into Sehun’s sides and leaning over his back. “You’re close?”

Sehun only nods into Jongin’s neck, hips continuously twitching in Chanyeol’s grasp.

“Come on then,” Baekhyun purrs into his ear. “Go ahead.”

I can’t, you fucking—

“Sure you can, just come on.”

All Sehun manages is a whined string of incoherent consonants. Jongin pulls in a deep breath, taking a grip of Sehun’s shoulders and pushing him away – despite himself shooting a swift glance downwards (the tent is still equally magnificent) – to look Sehun in the face. He looks like shit, for the record; panting and flushed a deep shade of pink with wet, blank eyes and a wet mouth hanging open, but he still props his hands back up at the door to support himself at arm’s length and struggles to focus on Jongin’s face.

“Think of someone sucking you off,” Jongin hears himself saying, reaching up a hand to wipe Sehun’s bangs out of his eyes. The left one twitches briefly as Baekhyun reattaches his mouth to the top of Sehun’s spine. “Uh. Think… Think of someone sucking your dick really hard.”

Jongin notes Chanyeol glancing at him from the corner of his eye, but concentrates on keeping his gaze locked with Sehun’s. Sehun wheezes to himself, blinking briefly before giving a vague nod-like tip of the head forward. He grimaces as someone comes across a good spot on his back, groaning deep in his throat.

“Uh. And. It’s wet, and warm, and,” Jongin continues, desperately flipping through his mental catalogue of fap fantasies and struggling to put words to his images. Baekhyun’s watching him over Sehun’s shoulder. “Stuff. Uh. You’re thinking about it, Sehun? Their, uh. Tongue. Their lips.”

Sehun’s left eye twitches again.

“So fucking hot, fucking slick and tight, and. You’re fucking their face and you’re really close and they’re gonna take your entire load down their throat…” Jongin notes from the same corner of his eye how Chanyeol is pressed up against Sehun’s hip, grinding his crotch against him with small, jerky movements while working his left hand over his back.

“Think of someone with real cocksucking lips,” Jongin says. He notes with a start how Sehun’s gaze flicks two or three inches down his face and then back up again. “Uh.” Chanyeol’s panting quietly beside him, eyes darting blankly from Jongin’s face to Sehun’s shoulder, over to Baekhyun behind and then up to Jongin’s face again. Baekhyun’s eyes are narrowed and hard, nails digging into Sehun’s waist. A bead of sweat rolls down Jongin’s neck.

Jongin looks deep into Sehun’s eyes, slowly opening his mouth to let his tongue run along his bottom lip.

Sehun gives one pathetic little hiccup of silence, and comes in his pants.

Jongin feels strangely exposed when Sehun slumps down in front of him. Chanyeol doesn’t think of hiding his boner, Baekhyun doesn’t care to, but Jongin doesn’t really have time to properly avoid looking at either of them (or worse, at their faces), before Sehun has fallen forward and accidentally pressed his face into Jongin’s own boner. Jongin gives a high-pitched yelp and jumps away.

“And what was all this good for?” Sehun grumbles when Chanyeol pulls him to his feet.

“Oh, y’know,” Baekhyun shrugs. “Many great scientific discoveries have been made by never neglecting to satisfy a flash of morbid curiosity.”

“I fucking knew it was you,” Sehun snarls, glaring at him. “I fucking knew it.”

“What, you got to get off, you shouldn’t— Wait—“ He squeaks when Sehun lashes out at him to claw at his neck, but they all halt as a loud noise, suspiciously similar to a moan, escapes Baekhyun’s throat at the contact.

Sehun glances at Chanyeol, Chanyeol glances at Jongin and Baekhyun refuses to glance at anyone at all. Soon Chanyeol’s right eyebrow quirks upwards.

Jongin groans. “Oh god.”

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