yam (chuyeol) wrote in ohunlimited,

up & down(e), for EVERYONE

Title: up & down(e)
Pairings: Sehun/Sehun (implied Sehun/Chanyeol, Sehun/Yixing, Sehun/older women)
Rating: NC-17
Length: 4,008 words
Summary: Sometimes even up and coming advertising hotshots need a little self-love.
Warning: Selfcest, swearing
Author's note: dedicated to AK for your priceless input.

Sehun tidies up his cubicle to the best of his abilities. Neon pink and green sticky notes make an ugly attempt as a cheerful border around his computer monitor, each little square reminding him of one more task he’s not getting paid enough to do. Wine and dine alcohol sales head Tuesday to close Grammy’s afterparty sponsor deal. New York Wednesday to meet newly appointed CFO of DirecTIVO. Soda in the kitchen is for guests only. Not to mention the media plan needs to be revised for Monday’s meeting with their impossible-to-please, entitled ex-employee-turned-client, but it’s 6:34 p.m. on Friday, he’s only 21, newly hired as a senior account executive, and if he doesn’t leave in the next sixteen minutes, he’s gonna miss the next metro home and his whole schedule will be absolutely out of whack.

He’s jogging out the door, and his phone rings one and a half times before Sehun hears a sort of rushing sound on the other end.

“Bitch,” he yells at his phone as soon as he hears the office front door shut behind him, “where are you?”

“Bitch,” shouts his friend, “did I not tell you to not call me when I’m driving?”

“Red Asphalt didn’t teach you anything, did it? You shouldn’t be picking up. Anyway, should I assume you’re on you’re way to my apartment?” says Sehun, mashing his finger into the elevator’s close door button. The other person in the elevator side-eyes him.

“Yes, darling. This dick pig is ready for a wild night out!” howls the voice from his phone, which suddenly turns into a terrible sort of screaming, and then dissolves into what sounds like a one-person insult contest. “Sehun, I’m just gonna go, I almost died because some prick tried to cut me off. Please have the limes cut by the time I park. Mm-bye!”

“Mm-bye!” he says, hanging up. The other person in the elevator is still side-eyeing him.


Their Uber driver gets way too excited about their destination, which is funny (read: not funny at all) because she got lost on the way to Sehun’s apartment. They opened up the app and watched her circle his block as well as the adjacent ones for twenty minutes, and eventually they started making drinking bets on whether or not she’ll find the apartment or call for help again. By the time she finally calls to say she’s arrived, Sehun’s drank four shots to Baekhyun’s six, and they only have 25 minutes before they can get into the club without guestlist. Worried about panicking their clearly absent-minded driver, they gently give her their destination, and naturally she says all the stereotypical “I don’t know any gay people” lines they weren’t used to hearing in real life anymore.

“Ohmigawd, West Hollywood? Are you two boyfriends? You’re so cute together with your bright tops and tight, ripped jeans! My cousin is gay. You two should meet him.”

Sehun looks at Baekhyun, whose look is so unimpressed, it practically screams Look, bitch. Just because two perfectly gorgeous young studs are going to a gay bar together doesn’t mean we’re serving each other deep dick pizzas.

The driver is unsurprisingly oblivious, doesn’t even notice Baekhyun make a massive stage turn to Sehun sitting in the backseat, winking at him to egg her along.

“Yes, only recently though,” says Baekhyun, voice melodically saccharine, Sehun might yack in this Prius backseat. Instead he adds fuel to the fire.

“Who’s your cousin,” purrs Sehun, sidling up to Baekhyun’s seat. “Got a picture? Does he DP?”

“What’s that?” says the driver, merging two lanes over in one swift swerve. “Director of Photography?”


A drunk boy in pastel rainbow briefs pushes past Baekhyun while they’re paying for entrance a good 25 minutes later than they had intended. After Sehun whispered what DP was into Miss Uber’s ear, she ended up getting so flustered she zoomed down the wrong turn and ended up on LA’s historically most congested street on Friday nights and took another 30 minutes make it back around the block. It’s not so bad, he supposes, since they got cute little rainbows painted on their face for today’s Pride celebration.

As soon as they get their wristbands, Minseok steps in from the smoking patio, his chest glimmering iridescent from the club lights flashing on him.

“Sehun-ah,” he sings, waving his hand excitedly in the air. “Baekhyun-ah! We’re already outside at a table. First round’s waiting for you!” Minseok gestures over at their corner table, adorned with ten double shots of what seems to be Patron. Chanyeol and Junmyeon are in attendance today as well, and their expectant looks mean there’s a whole lot more in store tonight.

“I fucking hate it when Chanyeol brings him,” grumbles Baekhyun literally right through his smile.

“That’s not what it looked like last time we were here, dude. Weren’t you sitting in his lap?” answers Sehun, also straight through his teeth.

Baekhyun can’t even keep it in this time, whipping his head around dramatically to face Sehun. “I KNOW, THAT’S THE THING. AND THE WORST PART OF ALL?” Baekhyun whispers behind his hand, “He’s fucking straight!”

“Chill. You know he’s only bringing him along as bait anyway.”


“Sehun-ah,” says Chanyeol as he widens his arms, beckoning him into a hug. “It’s been awhile, huh?” Sehun wants to roll his eyes, but he had been practicing being less petty for his current job so he just walks into it, presses his cheek against Chanyeol’s as they hug, and shrugs him off as soon as his hands start wandering lower.

“Hey,” warns Sehun. “Aren’t you dating Dianne right now?”

Chanyeol sticks his tongue out and winks. “Aw, don’t be like that. We went on two dates so far. And while she’s fun, she might be low key crazy.” He’s trying really hard to look concerned, or maybe like he’s imploring. Either way, if Sehun couldn’t tell, it meant he wasn’t serious.

You’re low key crazy.”

Chanyeol starts to pull him in for another hug, hands low on his back. “Yeah, babe. Crazy about that ass--”

Sehun actually rolls his eyes this time and pushes out of his grasp to pick up a shot. He said he was going to stop banging his friends -- okay, with the exception of Yixing, whose gentle yet sure grasp on his hips were just too good to give up. And comparing his stroke game to Chanyeol’s literal stroke game? Chanyeol’s not even competing. God bless Tao for hooking him up with Yixing, and bless his soul. Unfortunately Tao had to take a raincheck for tonight’s festivities; he broke his ankle rock climbing in China last week and Sehun promised he’d drink extra hard for him.

“Hyung,” says Sehun to Minseok while he tries to keep Baekhyun from drinking the rest of the shots, “I just want to let you know this might be the last time I see you tonight. You know. Blacking out and stuff.”

“That’s fine. We’ll try not to lose you, but do your best to just pass out in our corner, okay?” Minseok pats him on the shoulder.

“I got it, thanks!” The shots from their Uber game starts catching up to him, and he can feel tequila run over his fingers as he holds his shot in the air. “Cheers, bitches! Happy Pride Day!”


The shots are long finished and they’re dancing in the middle of the floor. It’s packed, and beneath the pink lighting, the surrounding crowd is obscured as a writhing, pulsating mass of drunken depravity. It’s not really that bad, though, just seems that way from the excessively endowed go-go dancers hired that night that dance on all corners of the dance floor. Sehun can see Chanyeol and Baekhyun encouraging Junmyeon to shove a dollar in one of the dancer’s jockstraps out of the corner of his eye. Minseok tears open his shirt and begins really feeling himself, sweat glistening, nipples free for the crowd to see.

Sehun takes this as his cue to go to the bathroom. However, while he’s stumbling around looking for the damn line, a security guard hauls a very young looking guy over his shoulder. “It’s not what you think! I just lost my ID yesterday,” says the guy when his voice cracks, an unintended admission of guilt. In his struggle, though, he kicks Sehun straight in the chest, and Sehun shuts his eyes, feels himself fall backwards towards the topsy-turvy mirror, falling, falling--

Sehun’s back slams against the wooden floor. “What the fuck?”

“Wh-what the hell? Who the hell are you?”

Sehun’s head must be spinning, because it doesn’t even look like he’s in the club anymore. In fact, it looks like some dude’s room. Damn. He knew shouldn’t have had that last pineapple-Henny, but Chanyeol paid for it, so.

“I said, ‘Who the hell are you?’” says the guy, his back now pressed against the wall next to his bed.

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Sehun has to work his brain around the alcohol to switch language gears. “I’m just trying to find the bathroom,” he manages to get out in sloppy Korean.

“What the hell are you talking about? You just came out of the fucking closet!” yells the dude on the bed. The fluorescent lights of this room make Sehun’s head hurt, and he thinks about the time he spent half an hour looking at incandescent versus halogen bulbs at Home Depot for the perfect mood lighting in his living room. Not this clinical white-blue shit.

“That’s what I thought my parents would say,” he slurs, “but living in America really shifted their worldviews, apparently.”

“What the hell are you saying?” says the pretty cute dude, now that that Sehun can see his face a little more clearly, and now Sehun’s become somewhat more preoccupied with getting a better look than figuring out where the bathroom went.

“I said, ‘You’re pretty good-looking,’” he says, scooting forward on his hands and knees towards the bed. “I think I’ve seen you somewhere before, actually.” Sehun should try to turn down his Fuck Me signal.

“You know, I think I know you too…” says the guy, looking less shocked and more nervous, and they’re staring at each other in what could be interpreted as searching, longing. A deep and thorough look at each other through the windows of their souls.

It dawns on them at the same time.

“WHAT?” they yell in unison, and turn to his closet mirror at the same time.

“WHAT?” they continue to yell as they stare back into the mirror and back at each other.

“WHO ARE YOU?” says Sehun, the cloud of intoxication finally having rained itself away in his bloodstream.

“My name is Oh Sehun, who are you?” says definitely-fucking-around “Sehun” back to him.

I’M OH SEHUN!” real Sehun roars, and Not Sehun’s face is exactly how he thought it’d be: shocked and a little annoyed.

“I have an older brother that’s three years older than me!”

“My best friends’ names are Tao and Baekhyun!”

“I have a complex about my underbite!”

They sit there, stunned.

Sehun stands up, brushes his hands off on his distressed jeans. ‘“There’s only one way to solve this. Drop ‘em.”

“Wh-wh. Wh-what are you saying? Can you say one thing that makes sense?” says Can’t Be Sehun, and Sehun knew exactly the way his eyebrows would jump on his head, the exact way his bottom lip would purse and jaw would jut out if he’s bewildered.

Sehun nut checks him anyway.

While “Sehun” sits on his bed with his hands over his goodies, Sehun truly realizes it. Oh my God.

He's me. I'm him. We are one.

They spend the next hour talking about each other, naturally. Hunnie (which Sehun now graciously mentally refers to him as, now that he’s confirmed to be the same person) and him get past the whole “other dimensional” thing pretty quickly, probably because their best friends are huge fuckin’ (anime) nerds in both of their worlds, and both Sehuns would never admit to enjoying it as much as they do. Thankfully, everyone else was busy today, so they’ve got quite awhile before anyone comes back and questions when Sehun got a kind of sticky, shimmery doppelganger in a loose tank and shredded pleather jeans.

It turns out that the most interesting parts of their stories aren’t about what’s different, but rather the parts they do share. Baekhyun does indeed “play too damn much” in Hunnie’s life, and coincidentally, Tao has just recently broken his ankle playing Extreme Basketball on a show. Chanyeol’s kind of a sexually ambiguous player, and Junmyeon, while open-minded, is straight-laced as ever. (“He makes a ton of money as a statistical analyst,” says Sehun. Hunnie explains that Junmyeon is the only one in their band that has any real experience with managing money, as proven by his black card. They both roll their eyes.)

Hunnie seems to take a lot of interest in Sehun’s job. Sehun, on the other hand, thinks that being an idol is much more the kind of flashy lifestyle he imagined for himself. That is, after all, why he got into advertising. Like Mad Men, but Korean. And sexier. Also less woman-hating.

“I don’t know. Making real things happen seems more worthwhile. The idol life wears out fast. I don’t think I’ve been able to choose what to wear for the past four days. Plus half the bullshit I say on broadcast’s been scripted. You know, like, who am I. Sometimes after weeks of personality rehearsal you lose yourself.”

“Really? I always thought the glory would be worth it. It feels like it so far. I guess I am just a wild and free bitch,” Sehun says, flopping down on the small bed. When he exhales, Hunnie’s face scrunches up, probably from the very obvious cocktail still being absorbed in his stomach. The twin size is still big enough for both of them, somehow. He credits it to their gracefully sculpted legs.

Hunnie laughs. “Seriously wild. How did you end up here all drunk, sweaty, and glittery, anyway?”

Sehun looks at him thoughtfully, presses a finger to his lip like his coworker Jongin used to do. “I’m not sure. I was at the club for Pride.... Last thing I remember clearly was Chanyeol making Junmyeon touch the go-go dancer’s dick and Minseok hyung was grinding on me with the top of his shirt unbuttoned. I couldn’t find the bathroom between all of the guys making out and then I got kicked in the chest by some underaged kid. Then I was here!”

Now Hunnie looks thoughtful. “Pride?”

“Pride, you know. Like gay pride. I’m sure you have gay people in this world too.”

“You’re gay?”

“Yes, honey, absolutely. If you couldn’t tell by the rainbows literally painted on my cheeks and chest”

Hunnie sits up. “How did you know?”

“Always, I guess, but for sure in high school. I was taking a Logic class and it inspired me to think critically about my love for musical theatre and Britney Spears. Just kidding. Half. I love Britney Spears. I really just knew when I realized I wasn’t jerking off to her.”

“That simple?”

Sehun quirks one artisanal threaded eyebrow and sits up as well, his shoulder hitting Hunnie’s as he adjusts himself on the bed. “I know what you’re doing. What are you thinking about?”

Hunnie is quiet, chewing on his upper lip. “I was just thinking how funny it was that you -- I -- would show up when I was really thinking about it.”


“Liking men, I guess.”

“Oh, Hunnie. Tell Mama Sehun all about it,” coos Sehun, puts an arm around Hunnie and starts caressing his hair.

And he does, tells him all about the dates he’s been on, tells him all about the strange rite of passage sex he’s had with some female sunbaenimdeul, and how although he’s done all of this, he doesn’t exactly feel like it was “right.”

“So you’re feeling a little curious?”

“But it would be kind of weird for my members to hear it, I think. Like, I don’t want to be patronized. I also don’t want Chanyeol hyung coming onto me.”

“Tell me about it, boo. Been there, done that. Literally.”

“Aw, really? Aw, man. Chanyeol hyung? Really?

“I know, I know! He won’t stop smugly mentioning it, either.”

“He would!”

And they laugh together. It’s totally weird, and totally not a hot moment at all, but realizing in this moment that there’s no one you should be able to trust better than yourself, Sehun has an idea.



“Well, it would be easier to answer your own questions if you just really reflected on it, you know? A little bit of self-love, get what I’m saying? I mean… Can I do it?”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“I’ll do it for you. I’ll help you figure it out. Just pretend it’s not you so that it’s kind of gay, though, and not just jacking off.”

Hunnie looks scandalized, but only halfway. Green light, thinks Sehun, and gets up for some light upper body calisthenics.

“What are you doing?” asks Hunnie as Sehun stretches his arms.

“Relax, dude. This is what I do before every mind-blowing handjob I give, okay. It’s part of the theatrics. You should know about all of that since you’re a performer,” Sehun says as he starts windmilling his arms a la SHINee “Everybody,” a song/concept he has no true in-universe knowledge about.

“Just sit at the edge of your bed, okay?” says Sehun, and stretches his neck before kneeling on a pillow of his face on the floor.

Hunnie looks kind of nervous from Sehun’s point of view on the floor. He’s doing that “gnaws on the bottom lip” thing they both do when they’re a little anxious. “Hey, hey,” says Sehun. “Don’t worry,” he assures his alternate self, “I got this under control,” and pats himself on the thigh.

Sehun’s in between his own legs when he pulls Hunnie’s sweatpants to pool around his ankles. He’s gone commando, just as he expected, and smiles a little to himself. He, too, went out tonight without underwear.

“Oh, wow. This is a lot different when you see it head on,” says Sehun in English, and then laughs to himself. Puns, even in this situation. He was truly made for advertising.

“It’s the same, isn’t it?” asks Hunnie, genuinely curious. He leans his weight on his two hands behind him, staring interestedly at himself.

“Yeah, it really is. It’s the same weight and everything,” answers Sehun, and pulls out of his pockets the packets of lube the HIV testing guys had given him outside of the club. “Wow, I never thought I would actually use these day of.”

“On yourself, too. Loser,” says Hunnie. This perfect 100% synchronization rate. Sehun almost wishes he weren’t himself. He tears off the little tab at the top and empties the contents in his hands, slicking up his fingers until they’re sloppy wet.

He doesn’t ask Hunnie if he’s ready. He just takes his hand into a tight ring around his cock, as firm as he usually likes it. He gasps like he didn’t expect it, like he didn’t know if Sehun actually knew what he was into. And Sehun does, because as soon as he’s jacked him off into hardness does he tear open another packet of lube, squeezing the packet until it’s useless all over the dark pink head of his dick. The squelching noise it makes as the head pushes out from his grip is so gratuitous and excessive, it makes Sehun a little dizzy. Or it could be the blood rushing to his own cock.

He’s holding the base of Hunnie’s cock like a makeshift ring, and he dips his head down to run his lips and ever so slightly the tip of his tongue on his balls and up his shaft, just to ghost hot breath on the tip of his dick. Of course his dick would jump at that, as if it could hop right into Sehun’s mouth.

And it’s a little weird to look up and see your own face, especially in this ultimate act of self-love. But that’s why Sehun was down here, because Hunnie really needed to reflect, find himself. Get a true taste of himself. From what Sehun could tell, at least, was that it was working.

Hunnie’s got his eyes shut and his head hung back.

“What are you thinking about,” asks Sehun over the wet, slicking noises. He’s using both hands now and alternating pressure and rhythm like the handy jay machine he is.

“Honestly? Don’t laugh, okay?”

“It doesn’t matter if I do, but shoot. Don’t though. I’ll really laugh if you come now.”

Hunnie cracks one eye open to glare at him. “Yixing hyung.”

Sehun grasps the base of his cock and ever so gently runs a sticky finger around the rim of his ass, which Hunnie clenches reflexively at. He winks and sticks his tongue out.

“Oh my God. When? When did you fuck Xing Xing?”

“What do you mean when? I haven’t. We kissed once on a TV show over a year ago yet. Here I am.”

“Let me fucking tell you, girl,” says Sehun, and starts leisurely stroking his cock. “My Xing Xing would fuck you into another dimension. He looks so gentle, right, and he is, but those guns aren’t just for show.” Hunnie’s head falls back as Sehun muses on. “It’s just that confidence in himself. That determination. Not to mention the way he could throw you into bed.” And unconsciously, he starts pulling harder and faster at his weeping dick, ignoring the way his own actual cock in his pants is literally aching for attention.

“It might just be that, honestly. That side of him just under the surface of his smile. Last time we were fucking I told him it was okay to be rough,” says Sehun, and he’s staring up into his own face again, but now his eyebrows are knitted as his head hangs forward, a sheen of sweat present on his forehead, his chest slightly heaving.

“Do you know what he did?” he asks himself, and Hunnie responds with a whimper.

“He spanked my ass raw ‘til I cried and came balls deep in my ass when he saw the tears,” Sehun grits out of his teeth.

He comes then, in hard, white spurts all over Sehun’s face, like a Jackson Pollock painting, each drizzle representing an expression of cleansing, freedom. He can’t help but find the offset of his clenched jaw cute as he milks his familiar cock in the tacky mess of lube and come.

Hunnie comes to after a few moments, and Sehun’s already helping himself in the bathroom to some facewash. Iridescent shimmer and jizz are not good face masks, no matter what that cute guy at the bar says. He’s patting his face dry with a personalized “Sehunnie!” towel when he feels arms around his waist and a face on his shoulder.

“Aww. I’m so cute. Gives a whole new meaning to self-love, really.”

“Thanks. Me.” Hunnie looks like he has something else to say, but Sehun already gets it. Probably came to the same conclusion as he did, too.

“Thanks to me too!” laughs Sehun, and turns around to hug himself tightly.


Sehun wakes up in Minseok’s bed.

It had to be some kind of crazy, drunk fever dream, he thinks as he sits up. Minseok is spread-eagled face down on his floor, snoring.

Still, it puts a smile on his face to think about what a vivid dream it was, and when he turns to find his phone in the covers, he notices a mismatching patch between the blankets.

Sehunnie!, the towel reads.

Maybe he’d call Yixing later today, after all, and hopes in another life he’d do the same thing.
Tags: #round 2015, pairing: sehun/sehun
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