title: the best (you ever had)
pairing: sehun/lu han
word count: 7, 609 w
summary: In which Sehun is a business prodigy and Lu Han is a mysterious beauty from the dance floor. A modern fairytale gone wrong about Blond Beauty and Sex Beast. Oh, and Jongin loves chocolates.
In the heart of Seoul, there’s a beautiful skyscraper. 50 storeys tall, the very top floor said to overlook the clouds and the whole of Seoul. It glitters in the day, the light reflecting from the numerous windows. It shines in the night, all the colours from the spectrum lighting it up, the brightest beacon in nighttime Seoul.
When people were asked how old they think the owner of the Oh Associations is, they always gave a range starting from 50 and ending somewhere in the 90’s.
No one would have guessed that the owner of the biggest firm in South Korea is a boy just shy out of the age of 22.
Oh Sehun is said to be the smartest and the youngest prodigy in the business, having skyrocketed his company to the top of the economical status when he was barely out of college.
Oh Sehun is also said to be the richest person under the age of 25 in South Korea, his annual income being 9.8 billion dollars. And let’s not mention the different branches of businesses he’s got, the numerous condos he designed himself erected in different parts of the country.
Oh Sehun is also handsome. Painfully so.
Oh Sehun has a beautiful face. His eyes are mysterious and piercing, eyelids drooping down an eighth of a degree downwards until his eyes close, long dark lashes brushing high and sharp cheekbones. His lips are the colour of red roses, and like roses, thin and deadly as a pink muscle darts out to swipe over them every half minute.
Oh Sehun however, has a less than attractive temper.
All of the workers that associate with Oh Sehun firsthand either
One, end up intimidated, and scared out of their wits. It doesn’t really help that Sehun has a perpetually pissed off expression pasted on his face by default. It really won’t do well if you act stupid or make grave mistakes. No one really wants to be on the receiving end of Sehun’s anger. No one mentions that one worker from the arts department that spilt yellow paint on Sehun’s dress shirt. No one also mentions how Sehun had the poor guy paint the entire arts department yellow using cotton buds. They do mention however, that Oh Sehun absolutely despises the arts department, or
Two, they are left amazed. Sehun has this ability to draw everybody’s attention, pulling them in, leaving them hanging onto every word.
Oh Sehun is a professional, a workaholic, and according to his close friend, a boring fucker.
“Morning, Sehun,” Jongin greets as he barges inside Sehun’s office. “How ‘ya doin’?”
“Shut up, Jongin, you’re too loud for this morning,” Sehun says, eyes not leaving the affidavit placed in front of him.
“You hurt me, Sehun. At least look at me when i talk to you,” Jongin huffs, flopping down on the leather settee.
“Get your feet off the leather, stop being an uncultured swine.” Sehun looks up and narrows his eyes. “And would it hurt you to make an affidavit that follows the rules of formal written English? How the hell am I going to forward this to the UK branch?”
“I’m not an English major, Sehun, as you can see,” Jongin flamboyantly answers, arms waving in the air capriciously. He turns his head to face Sehun, and says, voice serious, “But if you want I could rewrite that with formal written English. At the end there’d be ‘fuck thine own mother’. That’s how those Anglo-asshats speak English, yes?”
“I don’t even know how you’re my best friend,” Sehun replies, prodding his temples with slender fingers. “Can you promptly fuck off? Or at least make yourself useful by sending your affidavit to the letters department so someone can make it humanly possible to understand?”
But Sehun does have a best friend that keeps him sane, Director Kim Jongin.
“We should go clubbing tonight,” Jongin proposes. They’re eating dinner at the restaurant a friend of Jongin owns, and Sehun frowns. “get you unwinded some.”
“Talk to me when you make sense, Jongin. And shut your mouth when you’re chewing, it’s disgusting, god.” Sehun cuts his steak into even strips, before popping one into his mouth.
“Shut it, Sehun. You and I both know you need to get loose. That vacation in Bora-Bora last month turned into a nightmare, and from that day on, you turned into a monster.” Sehun sets his utensils down, and takes a sip from his glass of wine.
“Okay then, Mr. Kim, say I agree to your proposition of going out to ‘unwind some’, where would we go? May I remind you that you were the one who planned the whole trip to Bora-Bora?”
“But ah, my friend,” Jongin begins, grins at Sehun like a Cheshire cat. He signals for a waiter, and pays for their tab. He stands up, and Sehun follows. “this will be different.”
Jongin walks Sehun to his car and, before Sehun pulls out of the parking lot and leaves, he says, “I’ll text you an address. Dress to kill, you motherfucker.”
“You bastard,” Jongin greets as Sehun hands his keys to the waiting valet. “You just had to bring the Zenvo ST1. Fuck you.”
Sehun raises an eyebrow at Jongin and retorts, “You should try working sometimes. It works wonders.”
Jongin flashes a VIP card at the bouncer by the doors, and they let them in. Jongin leads Sehun to the bar, and Sehun pretends he doesn’t see the people checking him as he passes by. His legs are sin wrapped in expensive denim by Dior, leather jacket draped around his shoulders, dark hair pushed back, kohl smeared across his sleepy eyes.
“Jongdae, my man,” Jongin greets a skinny, sharp-looking bartender, pulling him into a pound hug. “Looking good today. Business going good?” He receives a curt nod, and Jongin laughs, all loud and filled with mirth. Sehun doesn’t know how Jongin does it, this being happy thing. But he does it good.
“Give us tequila shots please,” Jongin calls out to the other bartender, and when the bartender places two in front of him, he hands one to Sehun and says, “Still know how to drink?”
“I should be the one asking you that.”
“Shut up. To the company, then.” Jongin clinks his glass with Sehun’s and together, they throw their heads back, the tequila running fire trails down their throats.
After the third glass of Jack Daniel’s, Jongin pushes Sehun to the dance floor. He watches as Sehun dances, unwinds, and all of a sudden, he’s his age again, he’s young again, he’s Sehun again. Not Sehun the workaholic, but Sehun the person. He watches as Sehun starts dancing with a girl with legs that go on for days, and Jongin smirks.
“The secretary quit today.”
“She what?” Sehun shouted, covering the mouthpiece of the telephone he has to his ear. But before Jongin could reply, Sehun raises a finger at him, and says to the receiver, “I’ll get back to you.”
“Why did she quit?” Sehun asks, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t the first time, but damn. Just when business was getting out-of-hand.
“Turns out she couldn’t handle you’re hungover self during Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays,” Jongin says, looking at his nails uninterestedly.
“Whose fault is that, you jackass.”
“Hey, you could at least shed a smile, you know. We go out to unwind. Not to turn you into a monster. People are scared you’ll eat their arms off.”
“Goddammit. When’s the screening for the new secretary going to start?”
“You already have a new secretary, though.”
“What?” Sehun shouted again. “I own this company, and I can’t even pick my own secretary?”
“Yi Fan picked the new secretary. Uncle Oh instructed him so. You know how Uncle is,” Jongin trails off, thinking of the appropriate word to say, “he hates you.”
“Well fuck this, I’ll work at home. I can’t work where I can’t pick the people who work for me.”
“Suit yourself,” Jongin says, lifting his feet to place them on the coffee table. “Your employees would be thrilled, though. Not having Mr. Meanie around to boss them—hey, is that Lindor?” Jongin grabs the expensive-looking red plastic canister from the table and unwraps a piece of chocolate.
Jongin loves chocolate.
“Oh, they would. Especially when they find out that the nice, fun and humble Director Kim Jongin is taking over Mr. Meanie’s position while he’s gone.”
Jongin accidentally swallows a nice, round chocoball. He chokes, “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’d like that too, won’t you?” Sehun stands up from his chair, grabs his car keys and a few important papers he still hasn’t looked through. “Email me things, I’m off. Have a good day, Mr. Kim.”
“Oh, and think of it this way,” Sehun says while he tucks the folders under his arm, “with you actually working, you might be able to buy a decent car that isn’t made for soccer mums.”
And he storms out of the room, leaving Jongin dumbfounded, the sweet taste of chocolate suddenly bitter on his tongue.
[20:59 PM] Jongin: Fuck you, I’ve been stuck in a meeting for over an hour and half now, talking to disintegrating asshats about the efficiency of having a bigger team of architects instead of engineers, you fucker.
[21:02 PM] Sehun: I could care less.
Sehun locks his phone and walks out of his Audi R8 v10. He runs a hand through his straight, newly dyed hair, shimmering blood red under the strobe lights. He’s wearing a black v-neck shirt that just kills, tattered Armani jeans that show his pale skin, and his signature leather jacket.
He’s sitting in a VIP booth, sipping a glass of gin when he sees a flash of blond from the gyrating crowd. He watches as the person turns and their gazes lock. Licking the last of the gin from his lips, Sehun stands. He blames it on animal magnetism when Sehun doesn’t even realise he’s making his way towards this boy with sparkling eyes until they’re only a hair’s width apart.
The last of the riffs drown out, and the DJ changes the beats to something slow and sultry. The blond beauty puts a hand on Sehun’s shoulder, and Sehun moves his hips slightly to the side, body following the fluidity of the beat.
Sehun presses closer, slides a leg in between Blond Beauty’s legs, and grinds. Sehun watches as the blond beauty’s eyes flutter to a close as their bodies brush together, the heat permeating between them. He looks on as Blond Beauty bites down on his lower lip at their close proximities, the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach going lower, lower, and lower.
Sehun breathes heavily, and Blond Beauty’s mouth is on his neck, kissing down and down, leaving blooming trails of pink. Sehun presses his hips harder against his partner’s, and his partner throws his head back, eyelashes fluttering. Different colours of light hit his face and they incorporate into an image so unreal as Sehun has the urge to fuck it all, fuck everything.
So Sehun kisses him. It’s wet and hot and crazy, blinding underneath the fluorescent lights, suffocating in the middle of the jumping crowd but it’s okay, because this is perfect, and the person in his arms—the blond beauty, is even more perfect.
Just then, something vibrates in Sehun’s pocket, and he pulls away. Blond Beauty is gasping and panting, holding onto Sehun as Sehun fishes out his phone.
[01:54 AM] Jongin: Where the fuck are you don’t get too drunk I don’t want to receive a call in my sleep telling me you’re dead on a table and I don’t want to go pick you up. Call me tomorrow morning, asshole, you have business to take care of.
“Wh—What is it?” Blond Beauty gasps out, and Sehun resists the need to kiss those sinful lips again.
“I have.. to go,” Sehun says, instantly regretting it the moment he sees this jilted expression flit through Blond Beauty’s face. He starts backing away, extracts his arms from their hold around the other’s waist.
Then Blond Beauty pulls him back in, tugs him down by the neck, and kisses him hard, so hard that Sehun sees stars exploding behind his eyelids as Blond Beauty’s tongue curls around his.
All too soon Blond Beauty pulls away and, with those tempting, bitten-red lips dragging themselves over Sehun’s earlobe, he whispers, “Until next time, Lover Boy.”
And Sehun’s left underneath the flashing lights, red hair messy, swollen lips tingling, and the image of the blond beauty with fluttering eyes branded into his mind.
He bumps into Blond Beauty the next time he goes to the bar. And the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. Sehun always sees him by the edge of the crowd.
By the time he arrives at the spot he saw him, Blond Beauty’s already gone.
[03:14 AM] Jongin: I know you’ll love this and this is hard to text ok and i know you’ll never let me live this down but i need you. Fuck the company needs you i think i’ll just set the office on fire if the art department asks me whether dandelion is yellower than canary again.
[03:17 AM] Jongin: Sehun wake up goddamit you have a gala later i will drown in my pool of tears if i’ll have to represent you.
[03:18 AM] Jongin: You fucking asswipe you’re having fun with this aren’t you
[03:21 AM] Sehun: I will have these texts printed on tarpaulins so you could hang it up in your condo.
Sehun goes back to work with a bang.
It’s been almost two months since the last official sighting of Oh Sehun inside the building, and his presence is felt (and seen) by people more than ever. The receptionists gasp and workers part when Sehun breezes through the halls. He’s wearing a sinful, black Dior suit, a skinny tie pressed to his chest. His red hair is loosely coiffed, few stubborn strands covering his eyes. The female employees swoon when they get a whiff of Sehun’s musk scented Armani perfume.
Once he reaches his office, he is greeted by Jongin, seated in his leather chair, spinning around mindlessly as he plays with a model of an airplane from Sehun’s desk. Sehun stands in front of his own desk, frowning at Jongin.
“Why are you in my office?”
“Is this what I get for saving this company when you decided to become a kid and sulk in your billion dollar home? No Hey Jongin thanks for saving my ass, I owe you my leg?” Jongin grins infuriatingly cheekily at him, putting down the model airplane and stands up. He takes in Sehun’s unamused face. “Whoa, calm down. I’m just here to inform you that you have a gala to attend this afternoon. Hosted by the Park Corporation, in a hotel at downtown Ilsan.”
“I know, I was CC-ed in an email,” Sehun replies monotonously as he takes his rightful seat behind his desk, grabbing a hot cup of coffee near his folder keeper and takes a sip. He looks at the mug and shrugs, creates a mental note to have Jongin complement whoever made his coffee.
Jongin smiles smugly. “Yes, but I haven’t told you that you might want to bring a secretary for this, Sehun. That, or you can take notes by yourself.”
“Fine, send in the new secretary,” Sehun barks at his best friend. “I need to get this day over with.”
Jongin smirks and mock bows at Sehun. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
Sehun irately watches as Jongin walks out of his office, disappearing to the left for his secretary’s desk. He hasn’t met this new secretary of his and he needs to brief him/her fast, take him/her to a shop to get fitted for an equally presentable suit, or dress. That adds up to his already packed schedule and when will this fucking end.
His train of thoughts is interrupted when a blond young man with doe eyes enters the doorway of his office, hands nervously curled into fists on his sides. His eyes—painfully familiar eyes—widen and so do Sehun’s, as he lets out a dumbfounded, “you—”
But before Sehun can finish his sentence, Jongin throws his arms around the new secretary and grins good-naturedly. “Sehun, this is your new secretary, Lu Han. Lu Han, meet Sehun, our boss.”
He drags the last syllable out in a drawl and Sehun watches as a flush of pink paints blond beauty’s–Lu Han’s–face.
“Well, I’ll be leaving him to you. Sehun-ah, treat him well, okay?” Jongin pats Lu Han’s shoulder twice and walks out with a smug smile on his face, leaving Sehun and Lu Han in awkward silence.
“So, um,” Lu Han begins, shuffles on the balls of his feet. He then bows, full 90 degrees and Sehun has never felt more old in his life, “Hello, Sehun-ssi, I’m Lu Han. Please take good care of me.”
Sehun clears his throat, the words please take good care of me ringing in his ears. He whips out his phone and checks the time. He can flirt with Blond Bea—Lu Han later.
“As you should know—since you are my secretary—I have this scheduled gala to go to. I was informed only an hour ago that I needed a secretary with me. To help with the business associations, and such.” He proceeds to brief Lu Han in the fastest way Sehun knows, and Lu Han only nods his head, replies with a quiet “Yes, sir.”
“I expect you to do your job well, or else.” Sehun stands up, arranges the lapels of his jacket and says, “Follow me.”
He breezes past Lu Han, and Lu Han wavers slightly on his feet when he catches Sehun’s scent.
Lu Han mutters, “Fuck shit. Deep shit. Oh my God, shit.” before running after his boss.
“Are we there yet?”
Sehun’s looking outside the window, ignoring the fumbling Lu Han beside him, shifting in his seat as he keeps on smoothing down his newly-bought Dior suit (courtesy of Sehun because “I can’t bring my secretary to a gala wearing H&M”.)
“Calm down, will you?” Sehun says, impatiently looking out the window as he watches cafes and shops zoom by. He turns to look at Lu Han, and his eyes land on those fumbling fingers; beautiful, slender fingers sliding on the white silk of his dress pants.
Sehun tears his gaze away, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. He asks the driver, “How much longer until we’re there?”
The driver makes a turn towards the valet of the hotel, and Sehun heaves a sigh of finally. The chauffer opens Sehun’s door and he slides out. He watches Lu Han climb out of the car after him, and his breath sort of stops in his throat when he realises that Lu Han does indeed look beautiful in white.
“My man,” someone calls out. Jongin walks in stride with Sehun, and Lu Han falls behind. “How’s the new secretary?”
“Hmmn,” Sehun responds, eyebrows furrowing deeper. “Too twitchy, I don’t even know how—ask Yi Fan where he got this one.”
Lu Han hears. He harrumphs under his breath, and promptly stops admiring the way Sehun’s hips were moving as he walks, and starts looking straight ahead.
“As much as I want to stay and chat with you guys,” Jongin says when they enter the function room,
“I have someone of grave importance to talk to.” He turns, grabs a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. Sehun and Lu Han watch as Jongin wraps an arm around the shoulders of a shorter male with big, inquisitive eyes.
Sehun groans inwardly, and tells Lu Han to take notes of this as he leads them to their designated table.
“So that person who is going to deliver the introduction,” Sehun says quietly to Lu Han as Lu Han tries to start making notes, “is Park Chanyeol. He’s the eccentric son of the CEO of the Park Corporation. He oddly leads a quite successful business in mining.”
Lu Han looks at the face on the screen. “Why is he smiling too much, Sehun-ssi? Why are his teeth so white,” then Chanyeol starts his speech, “Oh my God, why does he sound like a monster, Sehun-ssi?”
Sehun chuckles despite himself. Of all the people he’s heard comment about Chanyeol’s voice, ‘monster’ was never one of them.
“That one’s Kim Junmyeon.” Sehun gestures to the current speaker with the bright green bowtie and radiant smile. “He’s the owner of this five-star hotel in Jeju and multiple golf courses scattered around Seoul.” Sehun gives Lu Han backgrounds and extra information for every businessman, negotiator, architect, and engineer that goes up the podium. And Lu Han tries to take notes, he really does, but Sehun’s breath curving around his ear and sending chills down his spine—it’s not really helping.
“Ah, this one’s interesting,” Sehun muses as a man with eyes rimmed dark with eyeliner and a dazzling smile takes the platform. “This one’s name is Byun Baekhyun. His company is the rival of Chanyeol’s but I heard they’re fucking.”
Lu Han feels his ear go red at the word fucking. And maybe at the fact that Sehun’s hot breath is fanning the skin there. He nods nervously and jots down the information about Byun Baekhyun, accidentally writing the personal affairs part and immediately scratching it out. But Sehun saw, and he chuckles under his breath, making Lu Han more and more embarrassed goddammit.
Sehun stands up when it’s his turn, scheduled to go on last because It’s the youngest businessman to ever make it this big, listen to him. He’ll blow you away.
He is surprised when Lu Han stands up with him. He makes to admonish him but forgets to do so when Lu Han starts to press down the lapels of Sehun’s jacket, fix his tie, brush lint off of Sehun’s shoulders.
“You have to look presentable,” Lu Han whispers; his voice is like the wind, barely there, but Sehun catches it, and holds on to it. Lu Han looks up at him, brushes a strand of wayward hair away from Sehun’s forehead, leaving zinging touches on his skin.
“There. Good to go,” Lu Han says. He grins up at Sehun and pushes him lightly away, sitting back down and starting to wring again his fingers now tingling as if they were electrocuted from Sehun’s skin.
Sehun walks up to the stage, feels the spotlight on him as he stands before the platform. He taps the microphone and clears his throat, greets the whole audience. His eyes flit to where Lu Han is. Lu Han gives him a smile and an encouraging thumbs up as he mouths ‘fighting!’. Sehun looks down, smiles to himself (but Lu Han can see it on the big screen; he mentally pats himself on the back) and starts delivering his speech.
Lu Han takes it all in; the way Sehun tilts his head when he tries to get a point across, the way his hands move and grasp at the air to describe what he’s trying to say, the way that tongue of his seems to always slip out of his mouth to lick at his bottom lip every half of a minute.
And when Sehun finishes, Lu Han claps, standing up along with the rest of the people inside the function room.
Much later, the speeches come to a halt, to be interrupted by dinner. They start serving Chinese food, much to Lu Han’s pleasure. He remembers Sehun talking about a Kim Minseok—one of the businessmen that greeted them earlier; the one with white, tender cheeks—who was the owner of a successful Chinese restaurant business.
While people were immersed in the wonderful feast, and all conversations seemed to slow to a standstill, Sehun leans into Lu Han, whispering ever so quietly, “You didn’t take notes during my speech. I specifically told you to take notes, didn’t I?”
Lu Han drops his knife to his plate. He wipes his sweaty palms on his expensive dress pants, stammers, “S-Sorry.”
“I believe another form of compensation is needed,” Sehun replies. Although in truth, Sehun doesn’t really mind at all. He has all the speeches recorded in his head—he is a genius, a prodigy, after all.
No. What he needs, is a way to get into Lu Han’s pants.
Lu Han chokes, and Sehun tries hard to smother down a chuckle by clearing his throat, asking, “Are you okay?” as he hands a glass of water to Lu Han. He watches as the secretary downs the cold water, his breath smoke against the crystal glass.
Sehun knows he’s got Lu Han; he’s got him hooked. Now, how to get Lu Han high and drunk on him?
“Anyways, I’ll be working after hours tonight, putting together those speeches from my memory since you failed to do so. You’ll be assisting me, of course,” Sehun says, tone absolute. “won’t you, Lu Han?”
Lu Han gulps, nods quickly, and he senses that tonight is going to be a long night, as he feels Sehun’s intent gaze on him throughout the rest of the gala.
“Sit down,” Sehun says as he opens the lights to his office. He moves to open the venetian blinds, letting the different shades of light of nighttime Seoul refract in through the glass walls. He loosens his tie, shoulders off his suit jacket.
“Do you like rum?” Sehun asks. He’s by the coffee table placed in front of the settee, fingers lingering on the lid of the decanter. Lu Han timidly shakes his head because No, all I want to do is finish work and go home and not fantasise about you, boss. Sehun pours himself a glass, turns to face Lu Han and says, “Wine, maybe?”
Lu Han turns down the offer, preferring to loosen his tie and undo the two upper buttons of his black dress shirt. He places his notes on the table, trying to at least remember snippets from the gala as compensation to his failing to take notes religiously earlier.
He writes down everything Sehun’s currently saying, adds crucial information at the side, jotting down everything Sehun is recounting to him as neatly as he possibly could.
Sehun watches Lu Han take down everything he’s saying, biting down on his bow-shaped lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“Still not taking my offer on that drink?” Sehun asks as he signs some of the contracts left piled up on his desk. He looks up from underneath his lashes, smirking lightly as Lu Han replies with a meek, “No, Sehun-ssi.”
“But you seem like you need a drink. What did I tell you about relaxing, and please stop sitting ramrod straight, do have something shoved up your arse,” Sehun comments and he tries to keep his voice as monotone as possible. He watches as Lu Han splutters, tinges of crimson colouring his cheeks.
“I’d rather not drink, Sehun-ssi,” Lu Han replies quietly as he shuffles his notes. “We’re working, and you’re my boss, that would be unprofessio—”
“Yes, I am the boss, Lu Han, and if I say you can drink on the job, you can drink on the job.” Sehun doesn’t even know why he’s even making a big deal out of this. He’s tired, he’s pressed, he’s got shitloads of work waiting for him on Monday (or tomorrow considering the time). But there’s something that’s pushing him forward, that need to get under Blond Beauty’s—Lu Han’s—skin. Fuck knows how much he wants Lu Han.
“I’d rather not, Sehun-ssi,” Lu Han reasons, wringing his fingers before he sets them on his lap, “my alcohol tolerance isn’t really smashing, I—”
“Sehun,” his boss cuts in. He clicks his fountain pen on the desk, leans into the soft leather of his chair. He watches Lu Han with curious eyes behind the crystal glass of his rum. “Call me Sehun.”
Lu Han looks at Sehun sitting perfectly behind his magnificent desk, dress shirt slightly undone, loose tie dangling around his neck, messy, burgundy red hair partly covering his mysterious, dark eyes. He watches as Sehun twirls the glass in his hand, the amber liquid swirling.
Sehun’s lips are painted almost blood red from the rum, and Lu Han looks on as Sehun’s tongue darts out to wet them.
“Come on, Lu Han,” Sehun persuades. This time around, Lu Han thinks there’s an underlying message behind Sehun’s words and fuck, keep it fucking together. “Don’t hesitate. I insist.”
All rational thoughts leave Lu Han and he thinks fuck it all to hell and back. He stands up, goes around the magnificent desk, plucks the tempting glass out of Sehun’s equally tempting hand, and places it down on the desk soundlessly.
Lu Han stands in front of Sehun, and moves closer, and closer, closer until Sehun’s legs are between his, and he sits. He sits on Sehun’s lap, and leans into Sehun’s warmth, placing his hands on Sehun’s toned chest.
Lu Han doesn’t even remember what Sehun was insisting, what he was actually referring to—the drink, the nickname, or his sinful lips?—but he hopes this would become one of them.
Lu Han breathes in Sehun’s scent, and leans in until he can feel Sehun’s lips ghost his. “If you insist,” Lu Han murmurs, looking into Sehun’s eyes before dropping them back down to Sehun’s mouth. “Sehun.”
Sehun feels Lu Han’s breath on his lips and he leans into it, bringing their faces that much closer, his lips finally touching Lu Han’s.
Sehun’s shocked, but then he realises that Lu Han’s doing this completely sober—unlike what he had been planning, and he feels himself smirking into the kiss. He guides Lu Han’s mouth to open, letting his tongue enter and curl it around Lu Han’s. He listens to Lu Han mewl in acquiescence as Sehun bites down on his lower lip, nibbles on it, and he thinks, this is Lu Han, this is the real Blond Beauty he fell for after all those nightly encounters at the bar.
Lu Han pulls away first, gasping and panting. Sehun burrows his face into Lu Han’s neck, breathing hard, flushing the skin there pink. He revels in the heady moan Lu Han releases when Sehun starts to suck, lick, and bite his flesh.
Lu Han’s fingers bury themselves into Sehun’s hair, sharp gasps threading through Sehun’s scalp. Lu Han tugs on the wine-coloured strands of hair threaded in his fingers, bringing Sehun’s face up before crushing his lips with Sehun’s, kissing him hard.
Lu Han starts clawing at Sehun’s dress shirt, fingers scrambling to undo the buttons. Sehun chuckles against Lu Han’s lips, amused at Lu Han’s attempts to undress him. His laughter stops in his throat however, when Lu Han’s fingers trail down to rest at the front of his dress pants, one hand popping the button open, the other fingering the metal handle of his zipper. A single flick of Lu Han’s wrist, and there will be no going back. A single tug of Lu Han, and it will be Sehun’s undoing. He wants Lu Han so bad, he isn’t even kidding anymore.
Sehun stops Lu Han’s hand, and parts from his lips. He’s got Lu Han pressed down on his desk (he doesn’t even remember how they got there), and Lu Han’s looking at him, eyes glazed with want and lust, and fuck—
“The—the table’s mahogany. Let’s take this somewhere else.”
Lu Han wakes up to soft sunlight hitting his face. It’s too fucking early for this.
He turns to bury his face into a pillow that smells just like the badass-motherfucker guy he keeps on seeing at the bar he frequents and—
Lu Han bolts up from the bed and looks around the room he’s currently in. Everything’s so clean. The room is bright and warm, sunlight pouring in from the two glass walls by his left. He looks up and forward, and he sees someone on the other side of the glass wall, leaning on the wrought-iron railings overlooking Seoul. From here he can see the Oh skyscraper.
He throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands, wincing quietly at the light pain that creeps up his back. He grabs a dress shirt from the floor and puts it on before padding towards the glass wall. He pushes on it lightly, and welcomes the soft zephyr that threads through his hair as he makes his way to Sehun.
Sehun hears before he sees Lu Han, so he turns around, smiling at him. “Good morning,” Sehun greets. Lu Han blushes, and the full weight of I just slept with my boss, oh god settles down uncomfortably into his stomach.
Sehun gestures for Lu Han to come next to him, and Lu Han takes uneasy steps forward. Sehun holds out a hand and Lu Han takes it and, next thing he knows, he’s captured in Sehun’s embrace, warmth swimming around everywhere. Sehun presses him lightly into the railings, and captures Lu Han’s lips with his. It’s lazy and slow and languid, and Lu Han sighs, relaxing, bringing his arms up to rest on Sehun’s chest.
Sehun pulls away, breathing softly, easily, and he smiles. Lu Han watches as Sehun’s eyes disappear into crescents, and his heart flips.
“That’s more like it. I won’t eat you up, you know,” Sehun says cheekily. “At least, not out here.”
Lu Han blushes and Sehun chuckles. He presses a kiss into Lu Han’s hair, mumbles something along the lines of “Loosen up,” and Lu Han blushes again, face heating up. “It’s just me.”
No, it’s not fucking just you, Lu Han thinks. He thinks it’s crazy, that Sehun’s here, in front of him, and the fact that they just slept together—Lu Han holds his breath. He isn’t sure if this is real or just make believe.
“I—” he starts. Sehun looks at the clouds in the sky, hums in response. Lu Han thinks this is too good to be true.
“What’s wrong, Lu Han?” Sehun asks; no feigned concern, only sincerity. Lu Han looks up at Sehun; all messy red hair, sleepy eyes, and chiselled face. Lu Han frowns because how can someone look this fucking perfect?
“Lu Han? You okay?”
Lu Han observes the worried expression upon Sehun’s face, and he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath. “Yeah,” he breathes out, opening his eyes. He smiles at him, “I’m fine... Sehun.”
Sehun returns Lu Han’s smile with his own dazzling one. “Great. Now, come here—” and Sehun kisses Lu Han again, slow and relaxed, Sehun sweeping his tongue over Lu Han’s lip and he complies, welcoming the familiar heat, familiar taste of Sehun.
When Sehun goes back to work the next day, people think he’s been brainwashed (or at least, been abducted or drugged). He walks into the lobby and sends a curt nod to the receptionists. He talks to the people in the art department on the progress of the murals being installed in the new museum he had designed, and he smiles at the workers before leaving. A female worker cries from five cubicles down.
Jongin looks up from the playboy magazine sprawled on his lap, and is greeted with a Sehun sans eyebrows furrowed together, sans suffocating suit, sans… anything businessman Sehun was known for, really. He watches as Sehun takes a seat behind his desk and wonders.
“Okay, was she a good fuck,” Jongin cuts to the chase, closing the magazine and promptly hiding it underneath the cushion of the leather settee. “Do you know her name? Did you get her number?”
“Why is it,” Sehun starts, while shuffling the papers left on his desk, neat Hangeul (most definitely not his) written on paper with crucial information noted at the side, “that you always think about fucking?”
Jongin shrugs, stands up and sits on the edge of Sehun’s desk, “maybe because fucking is good, you asexual fucker. Tell me, how long has it been since the last time you got laid?”
Sehun promptly raises a brow at Jongin, refusing to answer the question.
“So,” Jongin continues, looking at the picture frame of him and Sehun from their graduation day placed near Sehun’s Mac, “the girl. Who is she?”
Before Jongin has time to press on further, Lu Han enters the office room, straightening his suit, and Sehun lifts his head up, smiling. “Ah, Lu Han. You’re here.”
Lu Han blushes quite prettily, Jongin notes. He watches Lu Han make his way towards them, and place a stack of papers and binders, and a big, steaming mug of caramel macchiato in front of Sehun.
When Lu Han leans down to explain to Sehun that You have a meeting at ten with the board of directors, a conference with the construction workers down at the construction site at two PM, and your father wants to know if you want to have dinner over at his mansion. Also, what would you like to eat for lunch, Jongin sees something he would’ve looked over, but no.
There, along the white, milky white expanse of the secretary’s neck is a pink bruise, hidden underneath his neatly folded collar, almost invisible under the glaring light of the chandelier and the sunshine streaming from the glass walls surrounding Sehun’s office, but it’s there.
Jongin’s eyes flit to Sehun and he watches as Sehun stares at Lu Han’s face with this look reminiscent of want and longing and affection. It doesn’t really take a rocket scientist to put two and two together, but maybe Jongin is a rocket scientist, since he solved this equation in a span of two seconds and everything clicks.
He smiles knowingly at his best friend and his secretary, thrusts his hands into the pocket of his dress pants, and says, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you guys to your, um… businesses. See you later, Sehun, Lu Han,” as he makes his way out of the tinted glass doors of Sehun’s office, grinning to himself until he reaches his own office.
Jongin drags a half-hearted Sehun out of the building, claiming that Come on, there’s a new DJ at this club and Zitao says he’s sick, the beats are amazing and you need to unwind your eyebrows are converging again and Sehun decides that, yeah, he’ll go with Jongin to the club to unwind. He is kind of stressed since work is piling up and he needs to get out of the office, and since Lu Han can’t keep him company (he said he has to go somewhere, nowhere that Sehun knows of), he lets Jongin take him here.
They enter the bar and Jongin shoves a tequila shot into Sehun’s hand and they down it at lightning speed, wincing at the burn it leaves. Zitao was right about the new DJ, Sehun thinks as he nods his head to the music. The beats were sick, all riffs and scratches and the drops of the bass leaves his heart pumping erratically in his chest.
He stands up and makes his way towards the dance floor, moves to the beat, letting his instincts take the lead. This time, Sehun just dances, no more grinding, he tells himself, not when it’s not Lu Han, he won’t.
So he dances; his movements sharp yet it flows like electricity is running through his veins. He dances like he did six years ago, when he was just a high school boy and not a busy businessman with piles of papers to sign. But then a stranger comes up, starts dancing circles around him and Sehun feels dizzy and that he’s too close.
Of course, it’s pretty hard to discern faces in the middle of a packed night club, fluorescent coloured lights scintillating over the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing and jumping to the beat around him. But Sehun dances and dances with this stranger and their moves are somehow in sync.
He is caught off guard when this stranger leans over to whisper in his ear, “Hey, Lover Boy.”
Sehun opens his eyes and he’s met with blond hair curled messily, doe eyes glazed wantonly, porcelain white neck exposed seductively, head thrown back skyward. Sehun presses closer, leans down, and catches an earlobe in between his teeth, and nips. He basks in the sounds of his dance partner mewling and gasping and moaning into his neck.
“That’s not exactly the right thing to call your boss, right?” Sehun purrs into Lu Han’s ear. He feels the goosebumps ripple throughout Lu Han’s skin as Sehun presses open mouthed kisses along Lu Han’s neck.
“And grinding with some stranger in a club is not exactly the right way to treat your boyfriend,” Lu Han retorts, gasping as he feels Sehun latch his teeth on his skin.
Sehun nips at the skin on the crook of Lu Han’s neck, licks the angry red mark it leaves before smirking up at Lu Han. “Oh, so you’re my boyfriend?” he says, “or my assistant?”
“You tell me, Lover Boy,” Lu Han replies. Before Sehun can say anything, Lu Han’s already pulled him down and smothering his lips. Sehun doesn’t take long to lick the seam where Lu Han’s lips meet, pushing his tongue in to taste Lu Han.
Their lips part after a moment, but their faces remain close, hot breaths against each other’s skin. “You know what,” Sehun says, the movement causing his lips to brush against Lu Han’s, “assistant, boyfriend—fuck that shit. As long as you’re mine, I don’t care.”
Jongin exits the elevator and strolls through the dim-lit hallway, whistling under his breath. He’s just finished a meeting and he thought Sehun would be up for some dinner.
Plus, he forgot his playboy magazine.
As he nears Sehun’s office, he notes that the temperature’s turning just that tad bit humid. When he’s five paces away from the tinted glass doors of Sehun’s office, he hears it. At first it was only soft breathing he hears, but if he can hear it from where he’s standing, it’s not exactly soft.
Next he hears a grunt, a whisper of fuck, and a long moan. Then the moaning escalates and he hears a voice he vaguely recognizes as Lu Han’s, saying, “fasterfaster, Lover Boy harderfuckharder” and “right there right fucking there oh god”. Jongin hears a muffled shout and he could only guess it as Sehun kissing Lu Han to keep him quiet. Heat rolls out of the doors in waves and Jongin’s fighting down the urge to blush. He’s not really a voyeur by nature, but fuck, Sehunnie’s turning into a real businessman, he’s growing up, Oh my God, I’m so proud.
Much later (Jongin was frozen on the spot for quite some time there) he hears fabric shifting, papers shuffling and the sounds of lips kissing skin.
“That’s mahogany,” he hears Sehun say, voice a bit hoarse and out of breath. Lu Han’s laugh makes its way to Jongin’s ears and before Jongin runs away from the door, he hears, “Whatever you say, boss.”
Lu Han shoves lightly at Sehun’s chest, trying to stop him from kissing down, down, and down inside Lu Han’s shirt. Sehun whines, wraps his arms tighter around Lu Han’s waist, and resorts to kissing Lu Han’s ear instead.
“Sehun-ah!” Lu Han gasps, falling back into Sehun’s chest because this feels so, so good. ”Sehun-ah, stop it!”
The elevator rings, signals that they’re on the top floor, and Lu Han shoves Sehun away lest anyone sees them. Lu Han fixes his shirt, pats his hair down over his reddening ears. Sehun sends him a withering stare.
“Get over it, Sehun-ah, they have CCTV for God’s sake,” Lu Han says, frowning. “I thought you were Mr. Professional?”
“Well, I thought you were Mr. Take-Me-Now?” Sehun retorts. Lu Han has the decency to blush a brighter shade of red.
Lu Han looks away from Sehun and he sees... garlands?
There are garlands lining the hallways on both sides, the flowers following the colour scheme of the rainbow. Once they’ve reached the violet garlands, they’re already at the glass doors of Sehun’s office. There’s a bright red ribbon that goes across the door, and there’s silver writing scrawled on it.
“Congratulations on the—” Lu Han trails off, blushes at the last word and steals a glance at Sehun who’s muttering, “Kim Jongin, you motherfucker.”
“What is that, Sehun-ah?” Lu Han asks. He points at a canister by the corner. Sehun bends, picks it up, and looks inside.
He finds a bottle of lube, packets of condoms, scissors, and a note.
Sehun and Lu Han,
In light of your deciding to start having sex during office hours, I have taken the liberty of supplying you guys with materials that will make your lives easier (and faster swear to god, don’t make it last more than 20 minutes—i cannot).
Congratulations on the sex!!
P.S. I’ve included scissors so you guys can cut the ribbon. To celebrate the start of your “office affiliations”.
P.P.S. Congratulations on the sex!!!!
Sehun grips the office appliance in his hand, blade dangerously digging into his palms. Lu Han gulps
“He included scissors so I can slay him.”
shit sort of hit an industrial fan