live. love. laugh. ♥. (halcyondusk) wrote,
live. love. laugh. ♥.
halcyondusk

[exo-m] the marilyn monroe problem; lay/kris/lu han; nc-17

Title: The Marilyn Monroe Problem
Pairing: Lay/Kris/Lu Han
Rating: NC-17; Warnings: Kinks (highlight to see): bondage, breathplay, cock rings, crossdressing, voyeurism, bottom!Yixing, top!Lu Han, top!Wu Fan
Summary: Yixing and Lu Han were doing fine together
—but then a storm by the name of Wu Fan hits them, and Yixing's not sure how to react. Set in canon.
Word Count: ~9,000



the marilyn monroe problem;;-
// there are always problems that arise when a third party joins. they've just got to sort them out. //




When Lu Han walks into the dorm one morning with a white dress in one hand, and a large sealed box in the other, Yixing doesn’t bat an eyelid.

There’s no reason to—it’s probably another fan present, and he’s used to their fans sending them stuff like this. The storage room of their dorm back in Korea is filled with skirts and panda underwear and plush toys, and there’s even a life-sized doll sitting in there somewhere.

So, Yixing cocks his head to one side, only slightly curious, and pops another corn puff in his mouth.

“Is that another batch of fan presents?” Wu Fan asks Lu Han, stretching and leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Lu Han mumbles something Yixing doesn’t quite catch and retreats back into the room he shares with Wu Fan, shutting the door firmly behind him. Wu Fan shrugs noncommittally and sits down at the kitchen table in front of Yixing, eyeing the bag of snacks.

“You should stop eating those. Your face is gonna go puffy again.”

Yixing stares back at Wu Fan, contemplating. He leans back in his seat, smacking his lips loudly, and empties the last of the corn puffs into his mouth. Wu Fan frowns and smacks him on the arm, at which Yixing pokes his tongue out—unchewed snack bits and all. Wu Fan makes a face.

“You’re gross.”

“Whatever.” Yixing pouts mournfully at the empty packet of snacks. “Argh. I’m still hungry.”

“Go eat a carrot.”

Amidst the talk of carrots and celery and Yixing refusing Wu Fan’s suggested diet foods, Lu Han and his package has been long forgotten.





To be completely honest, the carefree breakfast bickering is pushing on a show of civility. Yixing doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to Lu Han or to Wu Fan after everything that’s happened the past year. Yixing doesn’t harbour any hate—he’s not the type—but jealousy and rash actions still make great foes.





A week later, when Yixing’s trying to find a particularly comfortable pair of sweatpants, his search takes him into Lu Han and Wu Fan’s room where he spots the box Lu Han was carrying the other day tucked away in the corner of the wardrobe.

It can’t hurt to take one look, he thinks, and drags the box out, but before he has a chance to lift the flaps there’s the sound of a throat clearing behind him and he turns around to see Lu Han standing there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re not taking a sneak peek at my underwear drawer, are you? There’s nothing in there you haven’t seen before.”

Yixing raises his hands in defense, flustered. “No, no, I was just looking for...sweatpants...” he finishes lamely, scratching the back of his head, and Lu Han laughs that tinkling laugh of his, kicking the box back into the back of the wardrobe.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lu Han says. He leans into Yixing, close enough so that his lips almost brush against Yixing’s ear. “Now be good and stay away from there.”

Yixing half-coughs half-chokes as Lu Han gives him a light pat on the butt and walks out of the room.





It’s been a while since Lu Han’s joked around with him like that. It sends Yixing’s heart into arrhythmia and his mind racing through possibilities.



--



The first time Lu Han kissed Yixing was in the practise dance studio two years ago, in a messy mash of lips, teeth knocking painfully against teeth, sweaty backs pressed against mirrors and equally sweaty t-shirts pressed between their bodies. Their hands had skimmed over each other’s hot, flushed skin, fingers entwining in each other’s hair, and Lu Han had pushed a knee against Yixing’s crotch and fuck, Yixing couldn’t believe that his body had the capacity to respond in this way.

In retrospect, it had been hasty—hasty and risky—but back then, it had been all Yixing wanted. It wasn’t quite love, not yet, but it was enough. Korea was foreign, but Lu Han was familiar and soft-spoken and beautiful. Lu Han reminded him of home—and good god, Yixing missed home.

Kisses progressed in the span of a month to quick handjobs in the company bathrooms, to blowjobs in the shower, to Yixing lying flat on his stomach on his bed as Lu Han traced patterns around Yixing’s shoulderblades and pressed kisses to the curve of his spine, one hand curled lazily around his cock. Even with Lu Han’s hands digging harshly into his back, leather straps chafing his wrists and ankles and a bit in his mouth, Yixing himself couldn’t quite believe how fast this all was, couldn’t help the panic rising in his chest and unexpected rush of blood to his cock as he thought about how one of the other trainees could walk in on this at any moment.

It never happened, though. They were never caught, because they were good at hiding things, and it probably helped that the Korean trainees didn’t talk to them much because they were not one of them. So, everything went smoothly.

At least, until the storm hit.



--



“Hey, what time’s our interview tomorrow?”

It’s the night before they’re scheduled to have their first interview, and normally at this time they’d still be at the dance studio rehearsing, but they don’t have a live performance for a while, so their manager let them have this one night to collect their thoughts.

Yixing looks over from his laptop to Lu Han, who’s lounging on the sofa next to him, Rubik’s Cube in his hands. Lu Han turns it slowly, the way he does when he’s deep in thought about something that’s really bothering him. Yixing furrows his eyebrows.

“You’re asking me something like that?”

“Why not?”

Yixing sighs. It can’t possibly be that Lu Han would seriously ask him of all people. He couldn’t even differentiate between the different days of the week, let alone busy schedule times. “I don’t know. Go ask Wu Fan ge instead.”

Lu Han turns the cube around. “He’s in the shower.”

“Oh,” Yixing says. Images from the past flash before his eyes. “It didn’t stop you that time.”

The words are out of Yixing’s mouth before he catches himself, and they’re harsher than he’d intended. In that instant, Yixing panics, hoping Lu Han would gloss over that sentence—but Lu Han must be on high tension because the sound of the clacking cube stops and Lu Han sits straight up, scowling slightly.

“What do you mean by that?”

Yixing doesn’t answer. Lu Han knows exactly what he means. Yixing knows Lu Han knows what he means.

“Yixing,” Lu Han says quietly. He presses a hand against Yixing’s chest, holding him down onto the couch. His eyes flash in warning. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up until we all sorted our own feelings out.”

At once, Yixing feels a wave of regret surge up in his chest. Just when he thought that they’d taken a step forwards, with the butt-patting and whatnot, he does something stupid like this.

“Sorry,” Yixing says. He looks at Lu Han, hoping he’ll calm down, but they’re twice as stressed as usual and the look in Lu Han’s eyes is unyielding tonight.

Lu Han slowly presses the edge of the Rubik’s Cube into Yixing’s neck, digging the corner into his jugular painfully. Yixing clenches his jaw. If there’s anything he’s learnt, it’s that behind his innocent appearance and baby face, Lu Han could be cruel when he felt like it, and right now, Lu Han is testing him, teasing him, because Lu Han knows all of Yixing’s weaknesses like the back of his own hand.

“What are you doing?” Yixing asks calmly, willing the heat at the base of his stomach to stop building up. He holds Lu Han’s gaze, trying to steady his breathing. After a tense moment, Lu Han sighs and chucks the cube on the sofa, unhanding Yixing.

“Sorry,” Lu Han says, standing up. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Forget it.”

Yixing nods, rubbing the red mark on his neck. “Yeah. Sorry.”



--



There’s a saying that when things are going too smoothly, it’s probably just the calm of the storm, because hurricane-force winds will soon start blowing your way and turn everything upside down.

For Yixing and Lu Han, the hurricane came in the form of another Chinese trainee by the name of Wu Fan.

Wu Fan wasn’t a new trainee by any means. He’d been recruited by SM earlier than Lu Han, earlier than Yixing even, but he’d always just been half in the background to Yixing, quiet, tall, carrying something of a Westerner’s grace. Yixing had been intimidated to speak to him at first.

There’s a rooming arrangement change, though, presumably to put the trainees together into possible future groups—Wu Fan’s ordered into the A dorms, into the same room that Lu Han and Yixing are sharing.

It’s a blow to both of them, because it means their room is no longer theirs.

In the first couple of weeks, it’s awkward.

Wu Fan’s not dumb, and he knows both Yixing and Lu Han well enough to realise that he’s stumbled into something and become the third wheel. The thing is, Lu Han starts to get along with Wu Fan a lot better than Yixing, and if anything, it’s his openness and the fact that he actually makes the effort to talk to people that sets him apart. It’s one of Lu Han’s attractive points.

Yixing used to be like that too—open, brash, confident. Korea’s changed him, without him really realising it until now. Now, he thinks about it, and realises that even with Lu Han, his sentences are not as carefree as they would’ve been to his fourteen-year-old self. He keeps things to himself, because he knows that even if he voices them out loud, there’s no one there to really listen to him, and those who do, can’t be trusted not to turn on him. His problems are his own.

So he guesses that’s why, when he walks into their dorm room three months down the track and pushes open the bathroom door a crack to see Lu Han on his knees in front of Wu Fan, head bobbing around Wu Fan’s cock, wet mini-skirt sticking to his ass, Yixing watches quietly through the crack and keeps it all to himself, reeling in confusion.





Trusting Lu Han wasn’t something Yixing did quid pro quo. He hadn’t expected anything in return per se—but he also hadn’t expect things to turn out this way.

Neither Lu Han nor Wu Fan owned up to anything. Yixing didn’t let on that he knew. Life went on.

Yixing could’ve confronted them, but he didn’t probe, didn’t stir the pot—just sank his fingernails deeper into Lu Han’s back the next time they fucked, skimped on the preparation so Lu Han could feel the burn as he entered, and left angry bite marks on visible places. That was his way of venting his frustration.

The thing is, he’s not frustrated that Lu Han basically cheated on him. It’s not actually that he wants Lu Han all to himself—and plus, they’d never actually mentioned, in their course of fucking, anything about an exclusive relationship. What frustrates and confuses the shit out of Yixing is that he’d liked it.

He’d liked it, the image of Lu Han on his knees, hair wet, white t-shirt plastered to his body; the image of Wu Fan’s mouth hanging open in pleasure as Lu Han sucked on his cock, back flush against wet tiles.

He knows he’s supposed to feel angry, but no. He’d wanted more.

And he’s not sure how to feel about that.



--



It turns out their first interview starts at eleven in the morning, which is great for them, because it means just that tiny bit more of precious sleep. The interview itself passes by awkwardly, in an hour of mostly Wu Fan talking, punctuated with silences and delayed Korean-Chinese translations and uncomfortable questions.

“So I heard the members share underwear?”

Wow Yixing thinks, without offering an answer, because that wasn’t the kind of thing you said on national television a day after your debut. The lines between their private and public lives have blurred that much, and it’s both fascinating and terrifying. The members mumble amongst themselves, uncomfortable.

“How about socks then?” the host asks, and they breathe a collective sigh of relief.





Their second interview, a Sohu one, hits a few more nerves.

“So during Chinese New Year,” the host says, putting on a smile, as if that was supposed to make them feel welcome, “did you get to go back to China to visit your families?”

Yixing thinks back to the last Chinese New Year he spent in the dorms with Wu Fan, missing his family like mad, confused about his feelings and slightly intoxicated, and tenses up. He feels Wu Fan next to him tense up too, and Lu Han shoot a frustrated look at the both of them for a fraction of a second, the look in his eyes telling them that whatever happened that night should never ever be divulged, not even to the other members—and with good reason.

“No,” Wu Fan answers, after hesitation. “I spent my Chinese New Year in Korea...”

Doing what exactly, remains unsaid. Yixing feels adrenaline and guilt course through his body as he sees Wu Fan clenching his fists tightly, and Lu Han with a tight smile plastered on his face for the cameras.



--



The first time Yixing kissed Wu Fan was a year ago, during Chinese New Year.

The first time Yixing fucked Wu Fan was a year ago, during Chinese New Year.

It was unintentional, though. Lu Han had somehow gotten permission from the company to go back home and spend the festival with his family, so it was just Wu Fan and Yixing left behind at the dorms, the Korean trainees uncaring about this celebration that was so special to them.

Yixing would be lying if he said he hadn’t been attracted to Wu Fan, with the way he spoke in that low voice in a mix of languages too fast and too foreign for Yixing’s ears—and, being really honest, most of his thoughts about Wu Fan in general jumped back to that image of Wu Fan wet in the shower with Lu Han’s lips around him. It was inevitable that Yixing would develop some feelings for Wu Fan, after seeing that.

So in short, Yixing’s still attached to Lu Han, but he’s also extremely inconveniently attracted to the boy that Lu Han had pretty much cheated on him with. The boy who’s in the same room as him, alone, with four bottles of unopened Soju to share between them.

Not the best combination.

Yixing’s not great with alcohol. It breaks down his brain-to-mouth filter, or rather, his brain-to-action filter, so he tries to stay away from it. Wu Fan’s not great with it either, really, but today’s a special occasion, so a couple of bottles of Soju later and an hour of reminiscing about their families and how lucky Lu Han is to be able to go back, Yixing is curled into Wu Fan on the carpet, their faces too close for comfort and breaths smelling of cheap alcohol.

He doesn’t remember who initiates it, but there’s a look that passes between them and then Wu Fan’s lips are on his, comforting, hungry and uncontrolled. Yixing rolls on top of him, bunching Wu Fan’s shirt in his hands, stretching the cottony material as he attempts to pull the shirt off without much success.

“Let me,” Wu Fan says, putting a hand over Yixing’s and tugging the shirt over his head. Yixing presses deeper against Wu Fan, body flush against his, tongue delving into Wu Fan’s mouth, the sting of alcohol burning his lips as Wu Fan bites slightly.

A thought runs through Yixing that maybe he’s just doing this to get back at Lu Han, maybe he should reconsider, but then Wu Fan’s hands are at his crotch, and his mind goes blank. Yixing doesn’t remember much else, doesn’t remember how his jacket or jeans got to a messy pile at the foot of the bed, or the finer details of Wu Fan’s mouth running over the ridges of his ribs, tongue licking at the dip of his pelvic bone. It’s a rush of blurred actions, and the next moment Yixing clearly remembers, he’s holding a bottle of lube and a condom which he’s somehow gotten from the bedside drawer, and Wu Fan’s naked beneath him.

Preparation doesn’t take long. Yixing’s used to Lu Han’s lazy stretching, and intoxication isn’t helping his greater judgement, so two quick fingers later, Yixing’s rolls the condom over Wu Fan’s erection and strokes it with a lube-slicked hand, remembering the sight of Lu Han’s lips fitted over the head, licking down the length and sucking at the balls. A shiver of anticipation runs up Yixing’s spine.

“Yixing,” Wu Fan whispers, in a moment of finer coherence, when Yixing’s pumping him languidly. “What about Lu Han? We—oh god—shouldn’t—”

“Why are you saying that now?” Yixing bites back, gripping Wu Fan’s cock tightly underneath him. He guides Wu Fan to his entrance.

“Because—”

“I saw,” Yixing breathes, lowering himself onto Wu Fan, hissing in pain.

“Fuck—what—” Wu Fan starts, voice gravelly, words slurred. He groans, steadying Yixing by the hips. “Saw what?”

“You,” Yixing grunts, feeling the slight burn in his ass as he rides up and sinks down completely, “Lu Han,” he raises his hips and lowers himself again harshly, punctuating his words, “fucking in the shower. I saw it all.”

A look of momentary panic crosses Wu Fan’s eyes before Yixing lifts himself up slowly off his cock, and Wu Fan closes his eyes in pleasure. Wu Fan begins to protest, but Yixing clamps a hand over Wu Fan’s mouth and grips his shoulders tighter and sinks down once more.

“Is this what happened with Lu Han?” Yixing asks, clenching his sphincter muscle and eliciting a muffled, pained groan from Wu Fan. “Couldn’t control yourself? Like now?”

Wu Fan instinctively bucks his hips up, tip of his cock brushing against a spot inside Yixing that short-circuits his brain and sends a flash of white in front of his eyes. Yixing cries out, hand slipping off Wu Fan’s mouth, knees weakened, and Wu Fan takes this opportunity to flip them around so that he’s on top of Yixing and pinning him down by the wrists.

“He started it,” Wu Fan growls, grabbing Yixing’s legs and hitching them over his shoulders, and thrusting inside him, harder than before. “I knew—knew he was with you, but I—fuck, Yixing, I’m so close.”

“I should hate you,” Yixing moans out, feeling himself get harder and harder, “and Lu Han. I should hate you and—fuck—Lu Han, but I liked it.”

“What?”

Yixing curls his toes, arching upwards into Wu Fan. “I liked watching you two.”

Wu Fan buries himself in, and Yixing imagines that Lu Han’s in the room with them, stroking himself to completion, imagines that Lu Han has his lips fitted over him, imagines that Lu Han’s in his position, being fucked like this by Wu Fan, and then Wu Fan’s cock hits that sweet spot inside him again, and he teeters over the brink.

Yixing releases himself in a sticky, messy load between him and Wu Fan.

Wu Fan thrusts three more times, and comes with a shuddering groan, gripping Yixing’s wrists so tightly he feels like his circulation has been cut off.

There’s a moment of silence.

“You liked it,” Wu Fan says, breathing hard, slowly pulling out of Yixing. He peels the condom off and chucks it onto the carpet. “You liked it.”

“Yeah.”

“Does Lu Han know that you know?”

Yixing slides his legs off Wu Fan’s shoulders, and shakes his head negative. His come is cooling on his chest, and his intoxicated daze is wearing off, the weight of his actions creeping up on him uncomfortably. Wu Fan’s straddling him, one hand still tight on his wrist.

“Did you use me?”

“I—” Yixing starts, trying to defend himself. “I didn’t mean to, just—god, Wu Fan, I like you too. And I...like you with Lu Han.”

Yixing shakes Wu Fan’s hand off, and curls up on his side. From the corner of his eyes he sees Wu Fan kneel on the bed, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck,” Wu Fan says. “I’m—fuck. This is fucked up. We’re so fucked up.”

Yixing has to agree.





Lu Han might’ve been okay with carrying the guilt, and Wu Fan might’ve been okay with casual fucking, but Yixing’s not. Within hours of Lu Han getting back from China, happy and bright eyed and filled with stories, Yixing cracks and tells him what happened with Wu Fan.

“Oh,” Lu Han says, face a mixture of guilt and hurt and shock. He looks between Yixing, who’s picking at his nails, and Wu Fan, who’s looking to the ceiling, avoiding their gazes. “Oh.”

“I know two wrongs don’t make a right, so, just. I’m not sure if you still like me—and I think I like Wu Fan ge too, so…” Yixing trails off, unsure how to finish. I’m sorry? Can we forget about this? I want to watch you two fuck?

Yixing doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, though, before they’re called into the office, and their current problems are pushed aside.

The twelve boys called to the room, Lu Han, Yixing and Wu Fan included, are to debut as a group called EXO. It’s the debut announcement every trainee waits for the moment they enter the company, and it’s happening to them right now—at the most inconvenient time.

Lu Han, Yixing and Wu Fan walk back to their dorm room, silent. Yixing’s barraged by conflicting feelings. Happiness, absolute joy that there’s finally a solid debut date for them, but that ecstasy is dampened by his confusion about Lu Han and Wu Fan.

“Debut,” Wu Fan says softly as the door closes behind them. “We’re going to debut.”

“What are we going to do?” Yixing asks Lu Han softly. “Not about the debut, I mean. About us. And Wu Fan ge.”

Lu Han’s silent. He furrows his eyebrows, indecision in his eyes. Yixing looks down at his hands, wishing he was clearer about where he stood in all this. At this point, he doesn’t want to end it with Lu Han, or push Wu Fan away, or even make Wu Fan feel like he’s done something wrong, even though anyone else in Yixing’s position would resent him to bits.

“I’m sorry to both of you, for…you know.” Wu Fan shifts on his feet, clearing his throat. “I’ve...I’m happy to do whatever you two decide. Sorry.”

Lu Han purses his lips. His eyes are watery. “Let’s take a break. Yixing—you—let’s wait until we’re clear about our feelings, because I...don’t know what to think.” He puts on a small smile. “Anyway, we have EXO to worry about now, don’t we?”



--



“Ge,” Yixing says to Wu Fan that night after the Sohu interview. “Wu Fan ge.”

They’re alone in the dance practise room, running over the moves for MAMA. There’s no need for Yixing to stay, because it’s only Wu Fan who needs the extra dance practise time, but he feels like he’s obliged to practise for longer, being the lead dancer and all.

It also gives him an excuse to talk to Wu Fan alone.

“Mm?”

“Do you remember when we were all called in to debut?”

Wu Fan rests his head against the mirror, wiping his forehead with a towel. “Of course. How could I forget? They had the worst timing.”

Yixing sits down next to him, hugging his knees to his chest. “I never got to finish what I was saying, and I think Lu Han ge misunderstood. And then we just pushed it all aside for our debut.” Yixing rests his chin on his knees. “Ge, do you think it’s too late now? To sort everything out properly with Lu Han, I mean.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Wu Fan says, passing his towel to Yixing, who wipes himself down too. “We were so busy, and we’re so busy now, and...”

Wu Fan falls silent. He takes a drink from his bottle and caps the bottle lid. “Yixing, honestly, I felt like shit for being used, but I feel even worse for starting anything with Lu Han. So tell me honestly, did you ever hate me for it? At all? I mean, if I were you, I would’ve hated myself.”

Yixing thinks. “No,” he says, sighing. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

“Then what you said about liking me, was it true?”

Yixing hesitates, before nodding.

“What about Lu Han? Do you still like him?”

Yixing nods again. Wu Fan purses his lips.

“Look, it’s been a year, so I don’t know how well this will go...but maybe we should sort this out once and for all. If you want to, we can talk to Lu Han after our interview tomorrow, okay?”





Their third interview on Youku goes much better their first two.

Most of the credit goes to the host. The host this time, a baby-faced woman, is chipper—a bit too chipper for Yixing’s dazed, distracted state, his mind is busy working out all the possible different situations that could happen after the interview—but just for that hour, he lets himself be caught up with the host’s eagerness.

“Lu Han, do you have a cute nickname?” the host asks, looking expectantly at Lu Han.

“I...don’t have any,” Lu Han says, after a pause.

Yixing scoffs internally. That’s a lie—he remember scrolling through the comments on their Baidu bar at the beginning of the year, when they’d all been revealed through the teasers, and laughing to himself at how well Lu Han’s nickname fit him, and not even for the reason the fans meant. He could only imagine how crazy they’d go if they knew about Lu Han’s crossdressing tendencies.

“Actually,” Yixing pipes up, “I’ve seen one. The fans call him Marilyn Monroe.”

“Marilyn Monroe? Why?”

Because he likes to wear dresses while fucking people, Yixing thinks wryly. “Because he’s very cute,” he says out loud, meeting Lu Han’s eyes. Lu Han flushes slightly, and looks back at Yixing pointedly.

“How about you do a Marilyn Monroe pose with me?” the host asks, and Lu Han breaks his gaze as he’s ushered out of his seat.

When the interview finishes, and they’re allowed to file off to their van to go back to the dorm, just as Yixing’s about to grab Lu Han’s arm to drag him to where Wu Fan is, Minseok, always oblivious, slings an arm over Lu Han’s shoulder.

“You should’ve posed with her!” he pipes up in Korean, and Yixing lowers his arm, waiting for another chance. Minseok grins and claps his hands together. “Or or next time we have a chance wouldn’t it be fun if you dressed up like Marilyn Monroe? Like how Sungmin hyung did. The fans would love it.”

Lu Han laughs quietly. “Maybe not just yet. We have an image to maintain.”





“What image,” Yixing mutters to Lu Han, when they’re in the van. The studio’s quite a distance from their dorms, and the other members are catching up on sleep, so it’s just them two awake in the back seat.

“Huh?” Lu Han mumbles, drowsy. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you wouldn’t dress up because we have an image to maintain,” Yixing replies. “What image. You should’ve just told him the truth.”

Lu Han looks at Yixing, narrowing his eyes. “And that is?”

“That you’d get too turned on in a dress and—”

Lu Han hurriedly clamps a hand over Yixing’s mouth. He looks over to Tao, who’s shifting around in his seat, eyes still closed, and to Minseok, who’s snoring his with mouth open, and jabs Yixing in the ribs. “Not here.”

There’s a beat.

Yixing can feel his heart thump in his chest as he meets Lu Han’s eyes, before he slowly places his hand over Lu Han’s and slides Lu Han’s hand off his mouth. “Lu Han.”

“Don’t—

“—I miss it. I miss you. Can we talk? With Wu Fan ge as well.”

A slight furrow appears between Lu Han’s eyebrows. He nibbles on his lip. “We have nothing to talk about.”

Yixing leans towards Lu Han, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Don’t lie,” he says, squeezing Lu Han’s hand, hard. “One minute you’re whispering in my ear, and the next you’re on me trying to poke a hole in my throat. We have to talk.”

They’re barely an inch apart. Yixing gazes into Lu Han’s eyes, seeing Lu Han’s pupils dilate. He moves his other hand to rest on Lu Han’s thigh, skimming his inner thigh gently. Lu Han’s breath hitches and he breaks away.

“Oh god,” Lu Han says, burrowing himself into the plush seating. “Okay. Let’s talk.”



--



Lu Han stays true to his words. Even while sharing the same room, he manages to somehow avoid both Yixing and Wu Fan. It’s a bit frustrating for Yixing to say the least, because this isn’t the way he wanted things to turn out, and Lu Han still obviously has feelings for both him and Wu Fan. Yixing doesn’t miss the way Lu Han stares at him in the mirror during group dance practise, or the way Lu Han’s fingers linger on Wu Fan’s wrist when passing him a drink.

Yixing knows Lu Han is trying to sort through his confusion—heck, he’s trying to get past his own confusion—and also that he should do something, clarify what he meant and clear up the situation, something, but it’s too easy to get sidetracked and lose courage. Full time rehearsals and vocal training and language lessons and dance practise leave them little time for feelings.

Little by little, things cool down. Their issues are pushed to the back of their minds. One month becomes two, becomes three, six, eight—and then they’re told their final debut date, and the excitement of finally being able to go back to China overrides everything else.

And that’s how it’s gotten to today.



--



The instant they reach the dorm, Yixing grabs both Lu Han and Wu Fan and drags them into their room, locking the door behind him firmly. Wu Fan leans against the door, and Lu Han makes his way to the bed, sitting down. Yixing takes a breath.

“A year ago—”

“—I know what happened a year ago—”

“—I didn’t get to finish what I was saying.”

Lu Han quietens. Yixing paces around the room.

“Look, what I said about liking Wu Fan ge, that’s true—but I think you took it the wrong way. I still like you, Lu Han, that should be obvious. I wasn’t mad at you for what you did with Wu Fan ge. I like you, and I like ge, but I like you two together, and I—”

“—you like us two together?” Lu Han shift on the bed. “Wait, you like us two...” he trails off, pointing to Wu Fan and himself.

Yixing scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, when I saw you two in the shower, and you were in that skirt. I just...I liked it.”

Lu Han turns to Wu Fan. “Did you know this?”

“I—yeah.” Wu Fan coughs lightly into his fist. “He told me while he was...um. On top of me.”

There’s a drawn out silence. Yixing swears he can hear the seconds tick by, and he shifts awkwardly on his feet. Wu Fan stands against the door, arms folded protectively.

“Kiss him.”

Lu Han’s sudden command cuts through the air, brisk and assertive. Wu Fan unfolds his arms and Yixing blinks stupidly, taken off guard.

“Huh?”

“You want me to be clear about how I feel, right? So, kiss him.”

Yixing looks at Wu Fan hesitantly, before walking over and gripping his arm, visibly tense. He presses up against Wu Fan and mumbles a sorry before he touches their lips together, leaning into the kiss. Wu Fan is quite a bit taller, so Yixing has to sling an arm around Wu Fan’s neck and tiptoe to reach him.

They stay like that for a while. Yixing feels the almost foreign, greatly missed warmth of Wu Fan’s lips on his, and gets uncomfortably hot as Lu Han’s intense gaze drills through his back.

“Okay.”

Yixing breaks off the kiss and takes a look at Lu Han. His expression is indiscernible.

“Take off his pants.”

Yixing furrows his eyebrows. “Lu Han, what are you—”

“—humour me.”

Yixing looks up at Wu Fan, who nods his permission. Yixing’s hand tremble as he finds the button of Wu Fan’s jeans, undoing it and pulling down the zipper. Tugging down Wu Fan’s jeans, Yixing can see the outline of Wu Fan’s cock tucked into his underwear neatly.

“Now suck him off.”

A tiny wet patch appears at the tip of Wu Fan’s cock as Yixing brushes it accidentally in shock. The fabric starts to tent, and Yixing feels his own body reacting. A thrill runs through him as he realises that this is what he’d wanted to show Lu Han that night, and this is what Lu Han actually wants to see, albeit a year late. He pulls at the elastic of Wu Fan’s underwear to reveal Wu Fan’s cock, and grabs it, forming a circle around it with his fingers gently. Wu Fan’s breath hitches as Yixing strokes him twice more and takes him into his mouth, bobbing up and down on his hardening erection.

“Is this what you wanted?” Wu Fan breathes, gripping Yixing’s hair as he slides a tongue up the vein at bottom of the shaft, swirling at the head.

Yixing’s about to hum in agreement when he realises that Wu Fan isn’t talking to him. From the corner of his eye, Yixing sees Lu Han unbuckle his belt, unzip himself and slide a hand into his pants, mouth hanging half-open as he strokes himself. Yixing feels his own cock pressing uncomfortably against his pants as Lu Han groans.

“Fuck,” Wu Fan curses, “This is—”

“—shut up and let him suck you off,” Lu Han says, rubbing a thumb over the tip of his cock. “I want to see what he saw that night.”

Wu Fan thrusts, the head of his cock touching the back of Yixing’s throat. Yixing slams a hand against the door, choking. Wu Fan thrusts in slowly, then tightens his grip and starts going faster, faster, and then


Knock.

All three of them freeze.

“Dui zhang,” a voice from outside the door calls. It’s Zitao. “I heard sounds, are you okay?

Lu Han hurriedly takes his hand out from his pants and zips himself up, startled. Wu Fan grits his teeth, cock still hard in Yixing’s mouth, fingers still tangled in Yixing’s hair. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he shouts out, a slight tremble in his voice. Yixing slides Wu Fan’s cock out of his mouth and wipes his lips with his sleeve, tidying his dishevelled hair.

“Okay,” the voice says. “Oh and dinner’s ready, should we eat?”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Wu Fan calls out.

The three of them listen intently as the sound of footsteps fade away. Yixing breathes a sigh of relief.

“I think...this will have to wait until later,” Wu Fan murmurs, tucking his cock back into his underwear and doing up his pants. There’s still a very visible bulge, which he attempts to hide by pulling his shirt over his pants. “Goddamn.”

“Yeah,” Yixing says, rubbing at his throat. Lu Han walks towards the door and places a hand on the knob. Yixing glances at Lu Han. “Wait, so, what are we going to do from now?”

Lu Han laughs slightly as he unlocks and opens the door. “I’ve got ideas.”





‘Later’ doesn’t happen until Lu Han’s birthday.

They’re so caught up with interviews and rehearsals that by the time they get back to the dorm, they’re too physically tired to do anything. Their manager, though, lets them have one free afternoon on the day of Lu Han’s birthday, as a reward for finishing a week of schedules.

So, Zitao’s taken the two Korean members out to do some shopping—Gucci was having a sale at Beijing Department Store, apparently, and Wu Fan had unwillingly given out his credit card to him in a half-asleep state after some expert whining—which meant that Yixing, Lu Han and Wu Fan were in the dorm—alone.

Yixing’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he feels an arm wrap around his waist, dragging him into Wu Fan and Lu Han’s room.

“What—”

The next thing he knows, he’s been thrown onto the bed, and there’s a hand pushing him down, pinning him down onto the mattress—Wu Fan’s hand.

“Wu Fan ge—”

“Shh. Don’t talk,” Wu Fan mutters, pressing a finger to Yixing’s lips. “Lu Han’s got something to show us.”

Yixing’s just about to protest some more when Lu Han walks in from the ensuite, and Yixing’s jaw drops open, words lost, a shiver running down his spine. Lu Han’s wearing that dress—the one from a week ago, the white one that was slung over Lu Han’s arm that morning, complete with a short blonde wig, black stilettos and makeup.

He looks absolutely stunning.

On top of him, Wu Fan presses a kiss to Yixing’s ear, and Yixing’s breath comes out ragged as Wu Fan slides a hand under his t-shirt, feeling up his torso. Lu Han walks towards the wardrobe. He’s incredibly steady, even in heels—but that comes from practise, Yixing knows too well.

“Lu Han ge,” Yixing murmurs, as Lu Han opens the sliding door and pulls out the box with the heel of a stiletto. “What’s in there?”

Lu Han upturns the box, and an assortment of leather straps and ropes and gags fall out onto the floor. Yixing gulps. It’s been a year—he’s not sure he can handle this.

Wu Fan lifts his own shirt up over his head and tosses it to the ground. He kisses Yixing, biting gently on his bottom lip, slowly reaching his hands up to take Yixing’s t-shirt off as well. Yixing helps him, raising his arms so that Wu Fan can pull the t-shirt off his head and resume licking the shell of his ear, his jawbone, the vein in his neck.

“Move,” Lu Han says, pushing Wu Fan aside and settling himself on top of Yixing, a bunch of straps in his hand. Yixing groans as the fluttery white material of Lu Han’s dress gathers on his stomach, and the bulge of Lu Han’s crotch presses against his groin.

“Birthday privileges for the birthday boy,” Wu Fan says, rolling his eyes. He trails a hand up Lu Han’s calf, to the back of his thighs, and feels Lu Han’s bottom. “You better not be using that tone with me outside the bedroom.”

Lu Han leans in, taking Yixing’s arms up and looping the leather around his wrist. Lu Han looks beautiful up close, all fake eyelashes and reddened cheeks and perfect lipstick. Yixing can feel his body reacting, a tingle travelling down his spine and straight to his cock.

“Ge,” Yixing mutters, distracted by Lu Han’s bright red lips hovering right above his face, “weren’t you—weren’t you trying to go for, uh, a...manlier image?”

Lu Han looks at him scathingly. “You said you missed this.”

“Is this your idea for later?”

Lu Han purses his lips. He looks behind his shoulder at Wu Fan, who’s now undoing his pants. “Well, yeah. I fucked him. You fucked him. We fucked each other,” Lu Han says, tightening the strap around Yixing’s wrist. “This works, right? I can’t believe it took so long to work this out.”

“It’s because you wouldn’t talk to us,” Yixing bites back, somewhat amused, but mostly aroused. He hisses as Lu Han glares at him again and tugs the strap violently.

“You know I’m impulsive.” Lu Han moves to Yixing’s other wrist, quickly binding it to the metal poles of the headboard of the bed. Yixing clenches and unclenches his fist, in a feeble attempt to help his circulation, but Lu Han’s done the straps up too tight.

“Ge, they’re too tight,” Yixing protests, arching up as Lu Han drags a finger down his chest and circles his nipple. Lu Han shrugs at him, and starts to pull down Yixing’s sweatpants and underwear, tugging them off in one swift motion. The cold air hits Yixing and he shivers, trying to curl up.

“You should’ve told me earlier then,” Lu Han says, moving off Yixing and walking towards Wu Fan. He trails his lips over Wu Fan’s cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark. “God, Yixing, you should’ve told me you were okay with me and Wu Fan.”

“Well,” Yixing says lamely, feeling the pressure build at the base of his torso, and no way to relieve it. “I tried, but we got busy.”

Lu Han passes a length of rope to Wu Fan. “We’ll make up for it today,” he says, and then Yixing feels his ankles being held down and the rope being wound around them, dry and chafing, as both Lu Han and Wu Fan secure the rope to the sidebars of the bed.

Ge,” Yixing manages, and he’s not sure if he’s referring to Lu Han or Wu Fan anymore, because at that point, Wu Fan starts to feel up Lu Han’s legs, hands travelling under the white dress and massaging Lu Han’s ass. Yixing’s feels himself starting to go hard, and he tugs at the straps at his wrist, tries to move his legs, to no avail. Wu Fan bites at Lu Han’s neck and unzips his skirt, pulling it off to reveal a set of lingerie, bra and all.

Wu Fan reaches a hand over to grab at Lu Han’s fake cleavage. Yixing nearly chokes on his spit.

“Sit down,” Lu Han commands, pushing Wu Fan to a chair at the side of the room. Wu Fan sits, legs open, slipping his pants off to mid-thigh level. Lu Han bends over, rummaging around in the pile of things from the box before pulling out a small metal ring and a bit.

“Lu Han ge, are you—”

“—of course,” Lu Han answers, without even waiting for an answer. He runs the thumb over the cock ring, waving it in front of Yixing’s face. “Now think unsexy thoughts, I have to get this on you.”

Yixing breathes and tries to calm himself down, but as soon as Lu Han’s hands touch his cock, he finds himself getting hard again. Lu Han sighs. “Think of Minseok taking a shit in the bathroom.”

Wu Fan laughs from where he’s sitting, and at once Yixing goes soft, allowing Lu Han to tease the cold metal ring over his cock, putting one ball in, and another, until it’s secured at the base. Lu Han scoots up and deftly wraps the strap of the bit around Yixing’s head, shoving the black tube in his mouth.

Lu Han runs his hands down his own body as Yixing watches, tied to the bed, gagged, and helpless. He cups his hands delicately over the padding of his lacy black bra and pushes up, rubbing in circles, and in the seat, Wu Fan watches, a hand inside his underwear, stroking slowly.

“You like this?” Lu Han breathes, trailing his fingers down his flat stomach to play with the waistband of his see-through underwear. He walks over to Wu Fan, pressing a knee between Wu Fan’s thighs and Yixing nods, unable to get a word out past the bit he has in his mouth. The leather straps are chafing, and he has rope burn on his ankles where Lu Han and Wu Fan have tied him down.

Yixing remembers the excitement from the first time Lu Han had taken out the leather straps and strapped him down as he’d fucked him nice and slow, and the time after when Lu Han had somehow found that cheerleader costume and did that striptease, and he looks at Lu Han now, shoulder strap of his bra hanging halfway down his arm, mouth on Wu Fan’s cock, and he feels the same excitement rise up in him again.

“Fuck,” Wu Fan curses. Lu Han’s head bobs around his cock, and he grabs at Lu Han’s blonde wig for support, but tears it off by mistake. Wu Fan makes a frustrated sound, threading his fingers through Lu Han’s real hair, all sweaty and plastered to his head, and tugs backwards, drawing out a long hum from Lu Han.

Yixing whimpers on the bed, impatient. He’s so hard now even without touching, so hard, the metal ring tight around his cock, that it feels like the lightest touch could set him off. He grunts, sound muffled by the gag, and Wu Fan looks in his direction.

“Lu Han,” Wu Fan says, rolling his hips into Lu Han’s mouth with a groan. “Lu Han, I think Yixing—”

“—let him suffer,” Lu Han mutters around Wu Fan’s cock. Yixing curses Lu Han in his mind as he bucks up on the bed and writhes around, trying to get some kind of contact. He pulls at the straps, the leather digging into his skin.

“Mmm—”

“—be quiet.”

Wu Fan closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall as Lu Han swirls his tongue around the tip of his cock and lets it out with a small pop, then gets up and walks towards Yixing. He climbs on top of Yixing, his cock straining through the lingerie. Yixing notes the way Lu Han’s lipstick is smeared across his face, a thin sheen of sweat plastering his fringe to his forehead, and god Lu Han looks so good. From inside his bra, Lu Han takes out a small tube that Yixing instantly recognises as lube. He uncaps it with his teeth and squeezes it onto his fingers.

“It’s cold,” Lu Han warns, as he slicks one finger into Yixing’s ass. Yixing clenches instinctively, the feeling so foreign after so long, but Lu Han’s finger is insistent and he pushes it in deeper, curling it slightly inside Yixing. Yixing groans as Lu Han takes his finger out and presses it in again, even deeper.

“He’s being mean today, isn’t he?” Wu Fan mutters, stepping out of his pants and making his way to the bed. He caresses Yixing’s face. “Bear with it.”

Yixing whimpers as Lu Han pushes a second finger in, rougher this time, and Wu Fan nibbles at Yixing’s ear. Wu Fan’s fingers curl themselves around Yixing’s neck, and he gently applies pressure, cutting off Yixing’s air supply.

Fuck, Yixing thinks, feeling the burn in his lungs as he runs out of breath, intensifying the sting in his ass as Lu Han thrusts his fingers in harder. Fuck. He strains feebly at the rope, curling his toes, feeling the burn getting more intense, and all of a sudden air is flooding back into him as Wu Fan releases his thumbs from his neck, and he bucks his hips into Lu Han’s fingers in pleasure.

Lu Han climbs onto the bed, touching the vein on the underside of Yixing’s erect cock with a gentle finger as he presses into Yixing with his other hand, and Yixing strains against the bonds, wishing he could put his hands around Lu Han and touch him; make him feel good.

Wu Fan reaches behind Yixing’s head and removes the bit.

Fuck, oh my—”

Yixing’s curses are cut off by a hand over his mouth. “Quietly,” Wu Fan says, reaching for his own cock with his free hand and stroking it. “Finish off what Lu Han started.”

Yixing wraps his lips around Wu Fan’s cock, gagging slightly as Wu Fan goes too far in the first time. He uses a tiny bit of teeth, scraping against the sensitive skin of Wu Fan’s cock and Wu Fan shudders, fingers finding their way to Yixing’s neck again.

“You’re just as bad as Lu Han,” Yixing mumbles, words muffled and sending vibrations up through Wu Fan. Lu Han grips Yixing’s cock tight and gives it a punishing squeeze as he hears, sending Yixing bucking up again, unable to find release because of the cock ring tight around him.

His vision is half blocked with Wu Fan thrusting into his mouth, but Yixing feels Lu Han’s fingers sliding out of him and sees from the corner of his watering eyes, Lu Han shimmying out of his bra and and stripping his lace panties down. His stilettos are still on, and he presses the point of one onto Yixing’s inner thigh, twisting the point in painfully. Yixing hisses, accidentally scraping his teeth just a bit too roughly against Wu Fan’s cock, and Wu Fan constricts his fingers around Yixing’s neck.

Lu Han’s fingers pull out of Yixing. Yixing tries to look down, but he feels the movement long before he sees—the cold drip of lube and Lu Han’s cock entering him, hot and hard. His walls constrict around Lu Han, and Lu Han groans out, a lube-slicked hand finding its way to Yixing’s cock and thumbing around the leaking slit.

Wu Fan starts to thrust faster into his mouth, tip of his cock hitting the back of Yixing’s throat, and Yixing has to clench his fists tighter, feeling the pain build up as his throat constricts. Wu Fan’s grip on his neck doesn’t lighten, just gets stronger and stronger—until Wu Fan lets out a grunt and pulls out, coming half inside Yixing’s mouth and half over his face, thick and hot.

He unhands Yixing.

Yixing gulps in oxygen, simultaneously choking on Wu Fan’s come. He swallows what’s in his mouth, the bitter taste spreading at the back of his tongue, and Wu Fan leans in to lick his own come off Yixing’s neck, tongue delving into Yixing’s mouth, much more gentle compared to before.

“Sorry,” he mutters against Yixing’s lips.

“Doesn’t—oh god—matter,” Yixing breathes out as he keens upwards, tongue running over Wu Fan’s teeth. He feels Lu Han buck his hips and enter him faster, hands pressed to his stomach, and watches with lidded eyes as Wu Fan walks back to kiss Lu Han, remnants of his come still on his lips. His cock twitches, constricted by the ring, and Lu Han angles himself slightly differently, hitting that spot inside him, curling his fingers around his cock and—

Oh god.

An intense wave of pleasure sweeps over Yixing’s entire body, starting from the tense knot in his stomach and spreading to the very tips of his numb fingers and toes as he arches upwards, spasming on the bed. A long moan escapes his lips, and he curls his toes as he finally comes past the cock ring in a burst of heat onto his stomach, coating Lu Han’s chest and neck in sticky white strings.

“Yixing—” Lu Han groans. Yixing clenches and unclenches his sphincter muscle around Lu Han’s cock, and Lu Han bends down and claws at Yixing’s hips, biting on Wu Fan’s lips as he comes seconds later, still buried inside Yixing.

Lu Han collapses on top of Yixing, curling up, boneless. Yixing can feel Lu Han’s heartbeat fluttering in his ribcage, the heat of his body against his, and he sighs contentedly.

“Well,” Wu Fan says, undoing Yixing’s wrist straps. “That was—wow.” He gently pushes Lu Han to the side, and tugs off Yixing’s cock ring. Yixing wriggles his fingers, feeling his circulation come back in a painful rush of blood and pins-and-needles. He sits up and unties his ankles, throwing the leather and the rope to the ground, next to Lu Han’s dress and lingerie.

“You two are intense,” Yixing mutters, throat still raw. Wu Fan settles in on his left, an arm draped around his waist.

Lu Han’s lying on his back, snuggled into Yixing. Yixing pulls the blankets up over the three of them. He leans over to give Lu Han a kiss, and Lu Han responds, pressing their lips together gently, cupping a hand over Yixing’s cheek. Wu Fan’s hands are on his shoulders, pressing in a gentle massage, and then his fingers are running trails down Yixing’s spine—and Yixing knows that a year of waiting; a year of misunderstandings was worth this moment, this moment, when all three of them are satiated and together.

Wu Fan lifts his head slightly, smiling over Yixing at Lu Han.

“Oh, by the way? Happy birthday, Marilyn Monroe.”



a/n: everyone on twitter is an enabler. especially feixing. life is unfair. i suck sfm at this (no pun intended) because cannot porn too many feelings...but have it anyway. also, please ignore all the logistical fuck-ups, it’s hard to integrate these kind of...kinks into canon (and their schedule lol what even). so, obviously fiction n___n. thank you develei for giving it a read through i am sorry if it scarred your eyes ;;

prompt (which i was trying to make other people write but somehow got coerced into doing instead ihu how am i supposed to write my own prompt): lu han to fucking dress up in a marilyn monroe style dress, with lipstick and the wig and high heels, and do a stripdance down to female lingerie and then go down on whoever he's showing off to. who will presumably be tied down with leather straps and gagged. and possibly also have his feet tied to the bedposts.
Tags: fandom: exo, pairing: lay/kris/lu han, rating: nc-17
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