Chapter 0/9
Reader x EXO
Future smuttt (18+)
Don’t ask questions, just go with it
It was common knowledge that The Nutshell was closed to the public on Wednesdays. The neon ‘Hard day, hard drinks – we’re open!’ sign that hung inside the large bar window had been turned off and camouflaged in the darkness of the night.
‘You’re supposed to be doing inventory,’ you said, pushing Junmyeon away for what seemed like the hundredth time.
‘I am,’ he said with a whine. ‘I just need one more kiss and I’ll go back to work, I promise.’
You glared. Junmyeon grinned.
He swept in, planting his lips on yours hungrily. Junmyeon lingered for a few moments and traced his fingertips through your hair. The tip of his tongue made a brief appearance between your lips.
You increased the pressure of your palms on his chest. At the same time, your instincts begged you to pull him closer, to wrap your legs around his waist. Your conscience begged to differ, but you begged it to shut up.
‘Ok, ok, I’m going,’ he said. He retreated with a longing sigh and a lingering glance. Junmyeon picked up his clipboard and pen from the booth table where you had made your perch.
Junmyeon had opened the Nutshell two years ago as a self-improvement project, an unmusical venture of sorts. He quickly discovered that it was the best place to get away from all the humdrum of his other schedules..
When the two of you had started dating, you had also discovered that the small, bright speakeasy was the best place to enjoy your privacy, and he began to keep the establishment closed once a week to make the most out of it.
But today, Junmyeon needed to finish inventory before the supplier office closed. He sat at the bar and counted the open bottles behind it.
You picked up your book and tried to concentrate on the words on the page, and not on how handsome he looked when he was working. The focused furrow on his forehead was needlessly distracting. You coughed and stretched and settled back down against the side of the booth. You made the book a wall to obstruct your view of him.
An hour later, Junmyeon returned, the alcohol census complete. He crawled forward on the seat, perching on a knee and leaning over you to steal another kiss.
You smiled gently against his lips, your fingers playing lightly in his hair.
He retreated a few moments later. He studied your face carefully before speaking.
‘You’re so quiet,’ said Junmyeon. He sat next to you, leaning his chest against the barrier of your knees.
‘I’m always quiet.’
He smiled, but something sparked in his eyes. Junmyeon angled his head and his steamed breath skated across the crook of your neck.
‘I could change that,’ he said. His tone was heavy with suggestion. His voice was low with unspoken desire.
‘You could try,’ you said, turning the page of your book. It was torture, but you held your passive ground. You couldn’t let him know that he was affecting you. It was a matter of pride.
‘I could.’ He lowered to an almost soundless whisper.
‘Or I could,’ said a voice from behind you.
Yixing stood by the entrance door, a playful smile highlighting his face.
‘How did you get in?’ Junmyeon said.
‘Was it supposed to be locked?’ said Yixing. ‘It wasn’t locked.’ He motioned to the door behind him. ‘The others said that you would be here.’
‘What are you volunteering for?’ said Junmyeon.
Yixing took a bold step forward with both his body and his words.
‘I could help her, how do you say, find her voice,’ he explained.
‘You really think you could make me make any sort of noise?’ you said, cutting in. You blushed as you realized how quickly you had escalated things – the tension in the room was palpable. You swallowed hard as Yixing looked you up and down.
The corner of his mouth perked up into an arrogant smile; he stepped forward, bending over the back of your seat until his face was only a couple of inches from yours.
‘Oh, I’d bet on it,’ he said confidently.
You kept a matching demeanor of confidence and hoped he couldn’t see through it. ‘What are the stakes?’
Junmyeon flashed you a knowing look.
‘It’s easy,’ Yixing said. ‘You moan, you lose.’
‘So say hypothetically that I lose. What happens?’
‘Submission,’ Junmyeon said. ‘Loser submits to winner. Simple.’
‘Fine,’ you said ineffably. You climbed over Junmyeon and stood squarely in front of Yixing, arms crossed in defiance. ‘Should we get started?’
