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Felix isn’t quite sure how he ended up here, isolated in the corner of a stranger’s living room with his half-empty can of something — it might be a cooler, all Felix knows is it tastes like a hangover on his tongue. Bodies writhe in the corner of his eye, belt buckles and jewelry flashing under the cheap LEDs that are strung along the ceiling. No one is following the beat of the music, even though it’s impossible to ignore with the way that the fancy set-up subwoofers rattle the limp houseplant that’s keeping him company.
It was a bad idea to let Minho drag him to this party, stupid to believe the lie that Minho had spun about bonding with their dance team. The dance team is nowhere to be found, probably long gone by now after witnessing the appalling display of grinding bodies and floundering limbs that Felix is currently watching. It leaves a grimace on his lips and a sour taste in his mouth to watch all these horny 19 and 20 year olds turn into seizing apes, hips swaying and arms flailing like some kind of mating ritual that Felix doesn’t understand. Maybe he isn’t straight enough for this. He enjoys flirting and a quickie as much as the next person, sure, but he’s never understood the need to get black-out drunk and not remember what happened. He likes being able to understand the full extent of his guilt and every detail that led him to that point when he wakes up in the morning.
He watches a crack in the wall, imagines it splintering further and further, blinding white light beckoning him closer until it swallows him whole. He imagines the void on the other side, silent and dark and comforting as it deprives him of his senses, a complete parallel to the overload of sensation he’s feeling right now in this too hot room with too loud music and too many different light fixtures battling for the foreground.
A snap of fingers in front of his face pulls him back to reality.
“You want another drink?”
It’s Hyunjin — another member of his dance team — whose shouted words are barely audible over the ferocity of the speaker system.
Felix jiggles the can in his hand, feeling more than hearing the liquid that sloshes around inside. It’s still more than half full.
“Nah, I’m good,” he says, the Korean language still feeling a bit foreign on his tongue, even after all these years. He hoists himself away from the wall. “I’m gonna go get some air.”
It’s a bit of a task, manoeuvring his way through sweaty bodies and drunken fingers that reach out to grab him and pull him closer. He grabs his coat and scarf from where they’ve been abandoned at some makeshift coat check — a couple chairs in the corner, piled high with puffers and overcoats. He finds a sliding door that he doesn’t remember seeing when he walked in, hoping to god it isn’t someone’s room, or something.
The door slides open with a bit of effort, revealing a backyard riddled with more shitty, twinkling lights and a speaker system to rival the one inside. Felix sighs, stepping out into the muggy October air, letting the door slide shut behind him.
“It’s my last year, Lix. Live a little while I’m still here to get you home safe at night.” Minho said, helping Felix do up the zipper on the back of his skintight mockneck.
It’s always Minho — best friend, dance team captain, and roommate extraordinaire — pestering him to get out of the house. Felix has never had a problem with “living a little,” it’s just that he’d much rather get drunk playing Mario Kart with his friends from the comfort of his own home than in a stranger’s lap in another stranger’s house.
Before he really realizes what’s happening, Minho himself is materializing in front of him. “Yongboks! There you are!” He beams, wrapping a firm hand around Felix’s wrist. “Come meet some friends!”
Some friends, it turns out, are actually the guy Minho’s been hooking up with and his two friends that Minho hasn’t even met before today.
“You know Binnie, these are his friends Chan and Jisung. This is my baby Felix,” Minho says, waving a hand carelessly around the small circle of people. Felix does not know “Binnie,” or whatever his real name is. Nor does he know Chan, who’s staring down at Felix like he doesn’t quite know what to feel. And Felix feels the exact same way.
Felix does, however, know Jisung. He wraps his fingers tighter around his can, feeling the thin metal start to give under his grip. He switches hands, flexing the fingers that have been curled around his drink for as long as he’d been at this party.
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Jisung gives voice to Felix’s thoughts, letting them sit heavy in the air while Felix churns over them in his head.
Jisung is a hot shit, cocky asshole. At least, he was when Felix knew him in first year. They’d been classmates before Felix dropped his Music minor for Philosophy. Before Felix met Minho, and was desperate for friends. He’d sucked Jisung’s dick in one of the bathrooms in the Engineering building and then never heard from him again.
“Good,” Minho says, grabbing Binnie — Changbin, that’s his name — by the arm. “Jisung can watch you while I get another drink.”
“I don’t need watching,” Felix scoffs, but Minho has already disappeared into the crowd, taking Changbin with him.
He can feel Jisung and Chan staring at him, unsure of what to do. He wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and crushes his can in his fist, ignoring the way that the drink inside rises dangerously close to the spout. He turns to leave, maybe to grab a shot of something that will get him drunk faster than this cooler ever could, maybe to find his way home — he’ll never know, because an arm shoots out to stop him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The arm definitely doesn’t belong to Jisung, not with that pale skin and those bulging veins that Felix wants to trace his hands over. Even Chan’s fingers are hot; defined knuckles that taper into long sections of bone, barely hidden by thin skin that Felix wants to suckle.
“What’s it to you?” Felix asks, shrugging away from Chan’s arm, which is admittedly the complete opposite of what he actually wants to do.
Chan cocks a brow, lips lifting into the beginning of a smile. “I’m supposed to be watching you, if I remember correctly, and this isn’t really my scene, anyway. If you’re leaving, mind taking me with you?”
It’s so obviously a lie, with the way that Chan looks completely at home amongst all the cut-off tees and baseball caps, and the way that Felix has noticed him tapping his fingers to the beat of whatever song plays next. It’s so clearly an advance, and a bit of a lame one at that, but that’s all it takes for Felix to fall down, down, down into a pit of bubbling, flowering attraction that delves just a little bit deeper than appreciation for Chan’s broad shoulders and crescent shaped eyes.
“Dunno,” Felix smirks, lifting a shoulder in nonchalance. He’s no stranger to flirting or one-night stands; he knows he’s attractive and knows how to use it to get what he wants, and that has been the downfall of every relationship that he’s had in his college career. Short-lived pleasure is his comfort zone. “What’s in it for me?”
Jisung snorts and takes a swig of his drink. “Good luck with that, Felix. Channie’s oblivious.”
Felix’s face flushes, half out of embarrassment for getting ahead of himself and half out of anger at Jisung for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. The confused lacing of Chan’s eyebrows together answers every question running through Felix’s head. So, he was wrong. Chan wasn’t coming onto him. God, maybe Chan does just want to leave.
“I’m not oblivious,” Chan murmurs, scratching at the back of his neck. “You wanna go for a walk. Right? Felix?”
Jisung bursts into laughter. “Sounds more to me like he was looking for a bathroom, Channie.”
The burn on Felix’s cheeks morphs into burning behind his eyes, nostrils flaring as he holds back tears. Not once did he ever think someone could come in his mouth and then make fun of him for it, especially not someone that cut off all ties after the fact. He doesn’t even sleep around that often. He tries with his relationships, really he does, they just never seem to work out. He probably would’ve tried to date Jisung for a bit if he hadn’t been left in the bathroom with a boner and never contacted again.
“Fuck you, Jisung. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Felix shouts, mentally wincing at the way his voice breaks around the words.
He’s turning and stalking away before Jisung can get a word in, shoving his way through the sea of bodies without a care for the glares and curses that get sent his way. He hears the pounding of feet behind him, chasing him through the crowd, and he feels a little bit like Cinderella, fleeing from the ball. It takes until Felix has made it into the driveway for Chan to catch up.
“Felix, will you just-” Chan finally manages to get a grasp on his arm. “- hold on for a second? Christ.”
Felix spins on his heels, facing Chan headon. He looks a little breathless from running after him, but serves him right for being friends with an asshole. “You gonna call me a slut for trying to fuck you, too?” Felix snaps, yanking his arm from Chan’s grap.
“Woah, hey, no one’s calling you anything.” Chan placates, voice slow and steady.
“I gave Jisung a blowjob in a bathroom in first year.” Felix states. He watches emotions play through Chan’s eyes like a film, flicking between confusion and disbelief and a little anger.
Chan blinks. “Uh, good for you?”
“And I egged you on when you were hitting on me even though he’s your friend. Sounds pretty slutty to me.” Felix continues. He’s digging his own grave at this point, but it’s better to lay everything out in the open while he has the chance. Otherwise he’ll wake up tomorrow morning with way too much regret for how things are playing out right now.
“I wasn’t hitting on you, though.” Chan says. He starts backtracking when he notices the way that Felix flinches. “Not that I wouldn’t! Like, you’re really hot and I’m sure you’re great! Amazing, even. I just, y’know, really don’t think you should call yourself a slut like it’s a bad thing? It’s totally normal to, like, have sex, and stuff. And I definitely wouldn’t say no to hitting on you. Only if you want me to, though! I’m just- I didn’t realize where you thought this was going, and I-” He cuts himself off with a sigh.
“Do you want to fuck me or not?” Felix asks, hand on his cocked hip as he stares Chan down in the middle of this concrete driveway.
Chan stutters, ears going red. “Well, yeah, sure. Like I said, you’re hot and you’re Minho’s friend so I don’t have to worry ab- Wait, where are you going?”
“Home. You coming with?”
—--
Felix finds out that Chan really isn’t as awkward as he first seemed. Once they’ve established that yes, Felix is sober enough to know what he’s getting himself into, and yes, Felix is very into Chan, he finds out that Chan is actually quite charming when he isn’t being ruthlessly flirted with. Felix has never felt this comfortable with a hookup before, has never wanted to bare his entire soul like this. Chan makes him laugh, laces their hands together while they decide whether they want to subject a poor taxi driver to their antics or walk the 10 minutes to Felix’s apartment.
They walk, entwined hands swinging between them the whole time.
“Okay, but what if it was, like, the end of the world? You really wouldn’t? Not even knowing you could end my suffering so I’d never have to hear their creepy noises again?” Felix asks, laughter bubbling in his throat.
Chan scoffs. “What? The end of the world and all I have to eat are crickets? What about all the supermarkets I could raid?” He balks, eyes wide in outrage.
Felix thinks he looks even cuter like this, cheeks flushed from the cold and breathless between spurts of giggles.
“Dunno, Channie. You don’t seem like the store raiding type.” Felix chuckles.
The hold on Felix’s hand closes in tighter as Chan rolls his eyes. “You should probably call me ‘hyung,’ you know,” he says.
“Would you like that, hyung?” Felix teases. His smile grows wider when he notices the flush on Chan’s ears, definitely not from the cold this time. He pulls on Chan’s arm, tugging him up the road towards his apartment building. “I think there are a few other things I could call you. You’d probably understand them, too. I know you’re not from here, I can hear that accent.”
Chan’s steps falter, tugging Felix back a little bit. He keeps trekking, pulling Chan behind him until they’re standing under the awning that protects his building’s front door.
Chan chokes a little as Felix shoves the door open with his hip, key card already swiped on the handle. “A-Australia,” is his stuttered, over-simplified explanation. He doesn’t miss the way that Felix’s face lights up as he’s dragged into the elevator.
“Me too! Small world,” he says, tongue curling around his first language, and then he’s crowding into Chan’s space, hands locking together behind his neck with a grin.
Chan’s breath hitches as his hands find Felix’s hips on instinct. A thumb trails over Felix’s hipbone, under the cover of his button-up, ticklish sparks shooting over his skin that he almost wants to pull away from, but the heat of them makes him lean in closer.
He pulls their foreheads together, Chan’s laboured breaths fanning over his lips. He pokes a tongue out to wet them, leaning in to nudge their lips together. It’s chaste and light, doing nothing at all to convey the buzzing feeling under his skin or the heat pooling in his groin. They share their first kiss in the dingy elevator of Felix’s apartment building, the scent of Chan’s soap and cologne invading Felix’s senses, taking over what would usually be a nauseating whisper of mildew. He’ll never be able to get in this elevator again without remembering the feeling of Chan’s hands on him or their lips brushing together. In the back of his mind, this elevator will forever smell like spiced vanilla beans dusted with baby powder.
The doors slide open on a ding, announcing Felix’s floor. His unit at the end of the hallway suddenly feels like it’s miles away. He backs Chan out of the elevator, wanting to keep Chan’s hands on his body and their lips locked in these innocent kisses, until Chan’s back is colliding with the door of their garbage chute, rattling it on its hinges.
He presses forward, tongue seeking out the heat of Chan’s mouth with an urgency that he hasn’t felt until now, so close to finally getting what he wants. He’s met with an enthusiastic parting of lips and a moan. He keeps pressing until one of Chan’s thighs is slotted between his legs, firm muscle relieving some of the pressure in his jeans as Felix grinds down. They’re a mess of sweat and heat under heavy clothing, Felix’s scarf unbearably itchy around his neck. He hates that Chan is wearing nothing but a hoodie, when Felix himself needs to bundle up as soon as temperatures drop below 20 degrees.
“Fuck, baby,” Chan groans against Felix’s lips, using his grip on Felix’s hips to encourage his grinding. His accented English feels bittersweet, tinged with nostalgia at the same time as it spikes so much arousal in Felix’s gut that he feels like he’s going to faint. “Don’t wanna fuck you out here.”
Chan straightens out to stand, letting Felix’s head fall forward into the crook of his neck. The muscle in his thigh flexes as he does, and Felix can feel it so clearly against his cock that he whimpers, tonguing at Chan’s skin.
“Come on,” Chan coaxes. He rubs the small of Felix’s back as he slides out from under him, fingers leaving fire behind as he trails them across Felix’s waist to find his hand. Felix shivers when Chan leans in to whisper in his ear, “You had names you wanted to call me, didn’t you?”
For the second time tonight, Felix has misjudged him. If he thought Chan was awkward in the face of flirting and sexual tension, he’s definitely been proven wrong.
He nods, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed as Chan squeezes his hand. He leads them down the hallway towards his door, fingers fumbling to fish his keyring from his pocket. He doesn’t even remember putting his keys away after he swiped his card at the front door.
They stumble through the door together, Chan kicking it shut and locking it behind them as Felix’s hand goes for the zipper on his jacket. Felix shucks his autumnal outerwear from his body, leaving a pile of down and wool by the door in his haste. He resolves to pick it up later, maybe tomorrow morning when the only thing left of Chan will be the lingering scent of his cologne on Felix’s scarf.
He plucks Chan’s beanie from his head with a giggle, dropping it onto the pile of discarded clothing and pecking him on the nose in response to the distressed sound that he lets out. Chan’s hands fly to his hair and Felix bats them away easily, combing his own fingers through the tangled locks before letting his hands rest on Chan’s cheeks.
“I want you on a bed, baby, not in the hallway,” Chan breathes out, wrapping his hands around Felix’s wrists. Despite what he says, he holds Felix there, thumbs rubbing against his thrumming pulse.
Felix is the one to pull away, to back up towards his room with his hands still in Chan’s hold.
He sits down on the edge of his bed once he makes it there, watching as Chan closes the door and peels his hoodie off. The cotton t-shirt that’s revealed is so crumpled from being covered for so long that the cut-off sleeve is folding in on itself, exposing a dusky nipple. Felix’s mouth waters.
“Me too, daddy,” Felix says, lifting his arms above his head. Chan chokes, dropping the hoodie that he’d been crumpling into a ball in his hands.
It takes him a second to regain his composure before he’s dropping to his knees between Felix’s spread legs.
There’s something so tantalizing about the way that Chan insists on undoing every fastening of Felix’s shirt. He holds Felix’s gaze, staring up from under drooping eyelids, as he slips every single plastic button through its buttonhole. It’s so unnecessary, with the deep cut of the neckline and the flowy material — it probably could've slipped over his head without any fanfare. And then Chan decides to worship every inch of revealed skin, kissing and licking his way down Felix’s chest with every button that he flicks open, and Felix’s cock throbs in his pants. He leans back onto his arms when Chan makes it to the waistband of his jeans, shirt sliding down his arms until it’s pooling on the bed around his elbows.
“God,” Felix breathes out when Chan licks a stripe up his abdomen, careening to the left to take a nipple into his mouth. Felix is a little jealous, he’d been eyeing Chan’s nipples first, but the pleasure coursing through his body as Chan rolls the bud under his tongue has him forgetting everything.
Chan’s hands find the placket of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with the same sense of ease that he unbuttoned Felix’s shirt. If the lower half of his body gets the same amount of attention that his chest did, Felix might just melt right into his mattress.
Fortunately for his sanity, his pants go quicker. Chan rolls them down his legs as smoothly as he can for how tightly fitted they are, and Felix kicks them the rest of the way off. They land on a pile of receipts by the leg of Felix’s desk, inches away from his laundry hamper where he was actually hoping they would.
“Daddy,” Felix pants, curling his fingers through Chan’s hair as Chan noses at him through his underwear. He’s glad that he’d decided to wear his one pair of lacy underwear for those skintight jeans, especially now that he’s seen how pretty the red looks against the flush of Chan’s cheeks.
“Yeah, I’ve got you, baby,” Chan mutters against his groin as he reaches for the top of Felix’s panties, words vibrating along Felix’s shaft.
Felix whimpers as his underwear is dragged down his legs, slow and torturous. Chan follows it with his tongue, leaving kitten licks over the skin of his thighs and his shin. He peppers a trail of kisses on his way back up, once he’s stripped Felix bare. The satisfied hum of appreciation that Chan lets out as he dips his tongue into Felix’s slit sends a shiver down Felix’s spine and a weak spurt of precome into Chan’s mouth.
“I n-need,” Felix chokes out, unable to finish his sentence. His arms give out underneath him, forcing his back down onto the bed. His legs sprawl limply over the side of the mattress, spread wide to accommodate the broadness of Chan’s shoulders between them.
Chan hums again and swirls his tongue around the head of Felix’s cock, fingers wrapped tightly around the base. “What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he says. His voice is sultry and low, almost as low as Felix’s on a normal day. It makes Felix’s head spin.
Felix has never been worshipped like this, is usually the one on his knees with a cock in his mouth. And he likes it that way, sure — he’s never been one to say no to the head of a cock nudging at the back of his throat — but the way that Chan seems to be putting Felix’s pleasure first ticks every box he didn’t know he had.
“Fingers. In me.” He almost struggles to form the words, breath caught in his throat as Chan takes his cock between his lips. Chan parts his legs even further to pull them over his shoulders, folding Felix’s body until his hole is exposed.
He sinks down slowly until stubble is scratching the tip of his nose, tickling Felix’s sticky, shaved skin with warm puffs of air from his nostrils. Dry fingers circle Felix’s rim before sliding upwards to collect the drool that’s collecting around his sac.
“Fuck, daddy, please,” Felix whines, tugging at Chan’s hair to pull him off.
The gasp of air that Chan inhales is ragged and hoarse. “Lube?” He questions, fingers dragging spit around Felix’s entrance.
Felix doesn’t say a word, too caught up in the friction of Chan’s skin against his. He points at his bedside table, stomach clenching at the way that Chan rifles through his drawer with one of Felix’s legs still perched on his shoulder. It feels too familiar, nothing like how a one-time hookup should. He shuffles his way up towards his headboard, until his face is right beside Chan’s who procures the tube with a grin. It’s so cute and innocuous, the dimpled smile burned into the backs of his eyelids so that he sees it even when he closes his eyes and lies back against his pillows.
He tosses the bottle onto the bed. It lands next to the curve of Felix’s waist, cold against his side when it rolls to a stop by his body. Chan follows, crawling up the bed on his knees until he’s settled between Felix’s legs once again. He leans down to bite at Felix’s bottom lip, followed by a tongue on the back of his teeth, searching for a partner. The feeling of Chan’s tongue in his mouth is slimy and soft and warm. Felix has never liked kissing much, but for some reason he wants nothing more than Chan’s lips on his and Chan’s tongue reaching out to caress the roof of his mouth.
The click of the cap echoes through the room, drowned out only by the sounds of lips colliding over and over again. Felix’s jaw drops on a gasp when cold fingers find his taint, searching out his rim before breaching the ring of muscle. Chan swallows down his gasps and moans as he makes quick work of coaxing Felix open. He does this enough that his muscles know the routine by now, and it doesn’t take long before Felix is clenching around four fingers, the drag of bony knuckles against his walls eliciting whimpers from the depths of his lungs.
The pressure and sting from how quickly Chan is working him open only adds to his pleasure, as if Chan could possibly have known that Felix doesn’t like to wait. As if Chan could have known that Felix likes the pain.
“Hurry,” Felix whines out. He arches his hips into Chan’s pelvis when Chan’s fingertips find a particularly sensitive spot.
Their lips are still pressed together, coated in spit and condensation from the heavy breaths that Felix lets out.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, baby,” Chan teases, plunging his fingers in deeper until Felix can feel the base of his thumb pushing against his rim. His vision goes white, the stretch verging on too much even for him. It’s deliciously painful.
“Please, daddy! Please, please, please,” Felix chants, crying out in protest when Chan pulls back and he finds himself empty, hole gaping and fluttering around cool air that blows over his dampened skin.
Chan divests himself of his shirt, shorts, and boxers, and Felix realizes how shameless he’s been, taking everything Chan has to offer and begging for more before Chan has even gotten naked. Felix barely notices the condom being rolled down his length, he’s too distracted by the ripple of muscle in Chan’s arm as he pumps his cock once, twice, three times.
“Look at me, baby,” Chan coos. Felix doesn’t know when his eyes slipped shut, only that they’re heavy and hard to open again. “Look.”
It’s easy to follow Chan’s commands when he sounds like that, so sure of himself that it leaves no room for questions.
“Hngh,” Felix croaks as Chan nudges his hole with the head of his cock. It slips in easily, squelching with lube as Felix’s muscles warp around it. Chan stares down at him, their eyes locked as Chan pushes into him. Felix can see the fire burning in Chan’s eyes, the heat that courses through his veins.
“That’s it. Take me so well,” Chan gasps as he pushes in to the hilt. His hips collide with Felix’s ass, bone against cushioned bone. His arms falter, his face tumbling into Felix’s neck as he drops down onto his elbows. He digs his teeth into the tendon connecting Felix’s shoulder.
Felix cries out. “Yes, da- Ah- Daddy, just like that.” His eyes slip closed again, head thrown back against the pillows, his arms finding purchase in his sheets.
Chan’s arm wraps around his waist, lifting his hips off the bed. The show of strength, the feeling of weighing nothing in Chan’s hands, has his hole clenching around Chan’s cock.
“Don’t,” Chan grunts on a thrust. “Don’t do that. Don’t fake it. Not with me.”
Felix shakes his head, black taking over the corners of his vision. “‘M not,” He gasps. The dragging of Chan’s cock against his prostate and his walls sets his nerve endings aflame. “Please, ‘m not.”
“No? You’re this sensitive, huh?”
Chan snaps his hips back and then forward again, driving into Felix’s warmth. Their chests drag against each other, sweat-slicked skin rubbing against Felix’s nipples, as Chan rests his forehead against Felix’s.
“Just- Mmmh, fuck- So big, daddy,” Felix chokes out. He wishes he’d seen Chan’s cock before he felt it, imagines how pretty it is, thick and heavy and long, flushed red at the tip the same shade as Chan’s ears. It’s the biggest cock he’s ever taken, and the thought of it has him drooling even as it stretches him out.
God, Chan knows him so well. How? He doesn’t know. Maybe he has a tell that he’s never noticed, maybe his eyebrows wiggle this way or that when Chan hits a spot that he likes. Maybe his nose scrunches a little or his voice pitches up an octave when the pain melts into pleasure.
“So good,” Chan pants. A bead of sweat rolls down his nose, landing on the corner of Felix’s mouth. He darts his tongue out to catch it before it can get too far away. It’s salty on his tongue, contrasting the sugar-sweet taste of Chan’s praise.
Felix’s back arches, untouched cock knocking into Chan’s stomach, against a ridge of abdominal muscle. He keens, head thrashing on the pillow. Chan pushes himself back up onto his hands, holding his weight on one while the other, previously holding Felix close, trails up Felix’s chest towards his nipple. He tweaks the bud between his fingertips, the pinch of flesh sending a jolt of heat through Felix’s body. His legs quiver where they’re wrapped around Chan’s waist, limp feet jostling with the force of Chan’s thrusts.
“Fuck, close. I’m really- Daddy- I’m-” Felix cuts himself off on a whine, pitching up with every thrust of Chan’s hips against his. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, daddy, please, please.”
He chants over and over again, every hit of Chan’s cock against his prostate drawing a new word from his lips.
“You gonna come like this? I haven’t even touched you, baby,” Chan moans, exertion barely touching his voice, still even and calm in Felix’s ear. The hint of condescension is enough for Felix to keen under him, cock throbbing where it bounces untouched against his stomach.
“Fuck me so well, daddy. You- Haah- Gonna come, please make me come, please, please,” Felix grunts.
He’s never been above begging, loves it actually. Usually it turns his partners off when he lets out anything more than a few swear words and a couple moans. Maybe it’s because of how deep his voice is, how it doesn’t quite match the sweet roundness of his face, or that he swears like a sailor. Regardless, Chan doesn’t seem to mind, seems to be spurred on by the evidence of Felix’s pleasure. And he told Felix not to fake it, so.
“Shit, Lix. Fuck,” Chan groans, grabbing Felix by the thighs and forcing his legs up to his chest. It changes the angle, has Chan’s cock driving even deeper into him. He catches Felix’s bottom lip between his teeth, the metallic taste of blood hitting Felix’s tongue. Felix moans.
It feels good, so, so good. The building pressure in his stomach coils and winds until he’s sure he’s about to snap. His back arches like a bow, arrow notched and drawn taut, ready to be fired. And then he does, cock spurting ropes of white up his chest as his body releases its tension, hips grinding against Chan’s front as he rides out his climax.
He thinks he screams, muffled only by Chan’s mouth on his, swallowing down his ardour. He scrambles to get his hands on Chan, one in his hair holding their heads together, the other digging blunt nails into his back. He moans as Chan comes, the heat of Chan’s release burning into his walls even as it’s caught in the condom that he wishes were nonexistent. He wants to feel Chan’s come on him, in him, everywhere.
He barely notices the way that Chan rolls off of him. He barely notices how Chan ties his condom off and trashes it. He barely even notices when Chan shuffles off to the bathroom like he lives here and returns with a damp washcloth that Felix is sure belongs to Minho. He curls in on himself once Chan has wiped the come from his chest and the little wild bits that reached his chin. Chan jostles him a bit as he pulls the comforter down the length of Felix’s bed, only to draw it back up again to drape over Felix’s body, pulling it up to his chin. He drops a kiss to Felix’s brow before he starts searching for his clothes.
“Are you leaving?” Felix asks, voice small and barely audible, as Chan is just getting a foot into his boxers.
He pauses, foot mid-air. “Do you want me to?” He asks.
Felix shakes his head, eyes already slipping closed. Chan drops his boxers. “No. Stay,” he says.
Chan agrees.
When Felix wakes in the morning, there’s a sticky note on his bedside table tacked to a full glass of water. Or, it had been, at some point, before the condensation knocked it off and it fluttered to the wooden surface.
Lix,
Couldn’t stay until you woke up. Good morning in advance. Text me when you’re up?
-Chan
XX XXXX XXXX
He smiles despite the pounding in his head, more likely from dehydration and exertion than a hangover.
To: Channie
thank you for the water daddy
It feels a little wrong to be like this, when he’d spent so much of last night repeating in his head that this was a one-time thing. He’s never fucking Chan again, even if something that feels like sadness darkens in his stomach when he thinks it.
He rolls over on his bed, pulling the blankets over his head to block out the light. He can hear Minho puttering around in the kitchen just down the hall, the sound of something sizzling in a frying pan and the barely-audible humming that he’s become accustomed to. Maybe if he gets up now he can weasel some food out of his roommate.
Mind made up, he pushes himself from his bed, grabbing whatever clothing he finds first from his floor. His shirt is big, way too big. The shorts are his, but this shirt is missing its sleeves and smells overwhelmingly like spiced vanilla and baby powder.
“Morning, Bokkie,” Minho chirps, back turned as he continues to fiddle with whatever’s on the stove.
Felix grunts, plopping down onto one of their dining chairs. There’s a bowl of rice and a pot of soup on the table, three empty bowls and cutlery sets laid out in front of him.
“The meat will be ready soon, but start eating now.”
Felix feels his chest swell with love, a grin taking over his face. “Thanks, hyung,” he says.
Shuffling feet sound down the hall as he serves himself. He’s too invested in his food to see who it is, but by the sound of smacking lips and giggles, he can take one wild guess that it’s probably Changbin.
“Chan made it home okay,” Changbin says as he sits across the table from Felix. “Just thought you’d like to know.”
Felix nods, mouth full of rice and perfectly salted soup. Minho brings a plate of pan-seared meat to the table before taking the seat next to Changbin. He pats Changbin’s full cheek, twice lovingly, before filling his own bowl. A twinge in Felix’s gut reminds him that he could have what they have, if he’d actually ever tried hard enough. Even if they aren’t officially together.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, the muted ding echoing over the sounds of slurping and chewing.
From: Channie
Warn me next time? I opened that at work :p
You’re welcome baby
It makes Felix want to scream.
-----
The next time Felix sees Chan is two days later, when he’s walking out of the dance studio with Minho after a practice session that leaves him panting and drenched in sweat. Chan is leaning against a wall with Jisung and Changbin by his sides, hands dug in his pockets. He looks good enough to eat, even with his curly hair plastered to his forehead by his beanie. They’ve been texting a bit over the past couple days, but nothing fills his chest with lust and regret like seeing Chan in person.
“Hi, lover,” Minho coos, placing himself between Changbin’s arms. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Figured I’d wait for you since you’re coming over,” Changbin says. He smooths down the back of Minho’s hair, pecking his forehead with a fondness that makes Felix want to gag.
He shifts his weight on his feet, toying with the zipper on his jacket. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself or where to go. If he leaves now, he has the loneliest walk home with nothing but his headphones to keep him company, but if he stays, he’ll be stuck in awkward conversation with Chan and Jisung. Again.
“Lix!” Chan waves him over. Felix shuffles on heavy feet, dying leaves crunching under every step. Chan ruffles Felix’s hair when he’s within reach, giggling when Felix bats his hands away. “I’ll walk you home.”
“O-oh,” Felix stutters. “You don’t have to, I’m sure you wanna head home, too.”
Chan rolls his eyes and slides his arm through Felix’s, linking them together. “C’mon. Hyung will get you home safe. Jisung can make sure Changbin and Minho don’t fuck on the sidewalk.”
“Really, Chan, you don’t have-”
“Let me walk you home, baby,” Chan mutters in Felix’s ear, so close that Felix can feel the condensation from his breath dampening the skin of his lobe. Felix feels lips brushing his ear when he nods, cheeks dusted with red even as he scowls and shoves Chan away.
They’re already far enough away that Jisung’s shout of, “Minho-hyung! They’re being weird again,” is distant and quiet. The wind whipping in Felix’s ears drowns out the sound of Minho’s laughter.
“So,” Chan pipes up, arm slinging around Felix’s shoulders as they walk. “Any exciting plans for the evening?”
Felix shrugs. He’s not sure how to go about friendly conversation with someone that he called “daddy” in bed just a few days ago.
“Probably just dinner and video games,” he says. He has school work that he should be doing, sure, but video games have always been his temptation.
“Hmm, Mario Kart? No, wait, Elden Ring?” Chan asks, hand sliding down Felix’s arm until he’s gripping at Felix’s waist and pulling him in closer.
“Genshin, but-” Felix gulps, “-we can play Mario Kart if you want.”
Chan grins. “Are you inviting me over, Lix?” He teases. As though it weren’t implied. As if Chan could be walking Felix home simply to walk him home.
Felix elbows him in response.
They walk mostly in silence, the only conversation being Chan offering to hold Felix’s bag for him, the bag with his dance clothes, including Chan’s pilfered shirt. Chan’s hand on his waist burns through the density of his winter jacket for the whole walk back to his apartment. It reminds him of Friday night, of Chan’s warmth wrapping around him while they laughed and talked, conversation flowing easier with the influence of alcohol in their veins. It’s a comfortable silence, though, like the ones he shares with Minho when they’re both too danced out to talk.
God, Minho would kill him if he found out that Felix had fucked Chan and not said a word about it. Minho is always the first to ask about his sex life, the first to encourage his bad behaviour and the first to comfort him when it comes back to bite him in the ass.
Chan is shivering by the time they reach the familiar entrance to his building, hoodie doing barely anything to keep the cold out. It’s late October and, really, he should be wearing a coat of some sort. Felix has half a mind to give him one when he leaves. If he leaves. Felix isn’t sure he wants him to anymore.
He grabs a blanket from his room as soon as they’ve reached his unit, door locked behind them with Chan toeing off his shoes.
“Sit,” Felix says, gesturing to the couch. He realizes that this is the first time Chan has properly seen any part of his apartment, and thanks every god that he and Minho like to keep things clean.
The throw pillows on their couch are where they’re supposed to be and match the furniture well, there’s a decent amount of order to their bookshelf organization, the console table that their TV sits on is entirely void of wire-spaghetti. He’s proud of his little home, even if it is a little small and entirely too expensive to be sustainable for two university students.
He wraps the blanket around Chan’s shoulders before he docks his Switch. The confused noise that Chan lets out as fluff encapsulates his body is the cutest thing that Felix has ever heard.
“I thought you said you wanted dinner?” Chan asks.
Felix grabs his controllers and moves to sit beside him. He doesn’t expect Chan to pull him halfway into his lap, but the body heat collecting under the blanket that is now wrapped around both of them is too inviting to refuse.
“Don’t feel like cooking.” Felix mutters. He falls further into Chan’s side, mind a little hazy from comfort.
Chan tuts, taking the controllers from him. “Order something, I’ll pay for it,” he says, waving his phone in Felix’s direction.
“Are you my sugar daddy, now?” Felix scoffs, but takes Chan’s phone regardless. He scrolls through the delivery options until he finds a cheap place with decent food, somewhere that he and Minho have ordered from often.
“Am I not allowed to treat my friends? I’m the only one with a full time job, last I checked.” Chan shrugs. He takes his phone back to add his own order when Felix hands it to him.
Felix hums, curling a hand around Chan’s waist. He nuzzles into his neck, deciding that video games can wait. He’d much rather be cuddled and warm right now. “Is that what we are, hyung? Friends?”
“I’m a shit boyfriend, Lix. I’m a much better friend, trust me.”
“You still wanna fuck me, though, right?” Felix asks, fiddling with the drawstring of Chan’s hoodie.
He wants Chan to say yes. He spent all that time convincing himself that Chan was a one-night-stand only to find himself begging for more. It’s like a switch flipped in his brain as soon as he saw Chan standing outside of his dance studio. He wants Chan to be his, even if it’s just like this.
But Chan freezes, tenses up in Felix’s hold. And Felix can hear Chan’s rejection before it’s even left his lips.
“I- You-” Chan swallows. “I think I like someone.”
Felix doesn’t want his heart to break in his chest, but it does. He doesn’t want to think of Chan as a hypocrite for saying he’s a shit boyfriend and following with a confession for someone else, but he does. He doesn’t want to remember that only minutes ago, when they were walking arm-in-arm on the sidewalk, Chan had called him baby, not this mystery crush.
“Are you in a committed relationship with them?” Chan shakes his head. “Do you not want to fuck me?” Chan shakes his head again. “You’ve already fucked me once. Unless you just decided today that you have a crush on someone, you can keep fucking me until you have the balls to confess. It doesn’t have to mean anything, hyung.”
But it does mean something, a dark voice in the back of Felix’s mind says. He finds the waistband of Chan’s jeans just to spite himself.
Chan grabs his hands to stop him. “Are you sure, Lix? I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Felix leans over, placing a kiss on the exposed stretch of Chan’s throat. “You can hurt me all you want, daddy. I can take it,” he whispers.
Chan groans, and Felix knows he’s won.
“You said you wanted to play Mario Kart,” Chan huffs out, bated breaths following the words.
Felix grins, wolfish and predatory, as he sinks to his knees between Chan’s legs, blanket abandoned on the couch. He places a controller in Chan’s hands. “You brought up Mario Kart,” he says. He palms Chan through his jeans, reveling in the gasp that Chan lets out.
“You’re still shivering, daddy,” Felix mutters when Chan shudders in response to his cock being freed from his jeans. “I’ll keep you nice and warm like a good boy while you play.”
It’s already rock solid under Felix’s grasp, hot and throbbing in the palm of his hand. A drop of precum leaks from the tip, and Felix’s mouth waters. It’s the prettiest cock he’s ever seen, from the flushed head to the engorged vein trailing the length of it, weeping just for him. He sinks down gracelessly, the beeps and whirs of a game being started up doing nothing to dampen the sounds of Chan’s moans as Felix swallows around him.
“Fuck, baby,” Chan chokes out, fingers reaching to curl through Felix’s hair before they’re batted away. Felix glares up at him as best as he can, squeezing the base of his cock in reprimand.
He rests his arms on Chan’s thighs, settling down onto his shins. He wishes for a brief moment that he’d had the foresight and planning to pull a pillow down with him, but the bruises on his knees from the linoleum flooring will be his company when Chan is gone and he finds himself alone again.
He lets his head hang to the side, pillowed by his own bicep on Chan’s leg, moaning as his eyes slip closed. Chan lets out a shaky breath that Felix barely hears over vibrant background music.
“God, you’re gonna drive me insane,” Felix hears Chan mutter as a round starts up.
Drool spills from his lips, pooling under his cheek. He lets his thoughts float away, nothing in his head except for the feeling of Chan’s cock heavy on his tongue and the desire to be good and keep still. It’s a quick round. Felix can tell when Chan loses from the way that he curses and jolts, cock grazing the back of Felix’s throat. Felix moans, swallowing around it, and Chan drops his controller.
“I’m done playing,” Chan grunts, fingers tangling in Felix’s hair. The finality of his voice, the certainty of it like it’s a command, has Felix whimpering, hand drawing down to slip inside his pants.
Felix bobs his head, opening his eyes again to look up at Chan through long lashes. Chan is staring back at him, dark and intense as his fingers dig into Felix’s scalp. It makes Felix feel small, like he’s shrunken down to fit perfectly between Chan’s legs forever. Maybe he has, he can’t really tell anymore.
“Shit, baby, you’re so good. Such a good boy.” Chan moans when Felix digs his tongue into his slit. Felix’s responding hum of appreciation vibrates the cock in his mouth, Chan’s breath hitching above him.
Felix hollows his cheeks, pulling off with a pop. “Come down my throat, daddy, I need it,” he whimpers, sounding more desperate and needy than he’s ever heard himself. He’s closing his mouth around the head of Chan’s cock again before Chan has a chance to respond.
Chan nods with a huff. “Yeah? Fuck, you’re perfect, Lix.”
Felix keens, praise turning his brain into a puddle of mush between his ears. Everything is Chan, from the scent of his soap and skin filling Felix’s nostrils to the sound of his moans in Felix’s ears and the tugging of his fingers on Felix’s hair. He could be something more with Chan, something complex and passionate, permanent if Chan wanted it. He can feel how easy it would be to slot their lives together like missing puzzle pieces with the way that their friends already get along.
The confession is on the tip of his tongue, dangerously close to coming out, so he curls it around Chan’s cock instead and swallows it down.
“Gonna come, baby,” Chan gasps out between pants of breath. “Shit, fuck.”
The first spurt of come lands on Felix’s tongue as Chan curses and bucks his hips forward, fucking it down Felix’s throat. Felix swallows, trying to stay ahead of the liquid flooding his mouth lest it spill from the corners of his lips and be wasted. He ruts his clothed cock into the palm of his hand as Chan’s thrusts slow to a stop, desperate to get off with the taste of Chan still on his tongue.
The buzzer rings, jolting them both from their reverie. Felix scrambles to stand on his feet, Chan’s cock dropping from his mouth and falling limply onto his thigh. He locks eyes with Chan, so perfect of a sight to behold, with his messy hair and flushed cheeks, that Chan’s dick twitches with renewed interest. Chan grabs his hand, keeping him in place when he makes for the door.
“The food’s here, Channie.” He protests, trying to pull his hand from Chan’s grip.
Chan nods. “Hold on,” he says. He reaches up to swipe at the corner of Felix’s mouth, catching leftover come on his thumb and pushing it between Felix’s lips. Felix sucks it clean with a hum. “There. All gone.”
It doesn’t stop the delivery guy from giving him a knowing glare when he answers the door with sex hair and an unconcealable hard-on in his pants.
-----
“So, you and Chan-hyung…”
Everyone else has already left the studio. They’ve stayed behind to do some cool down stretches, to unwind their muscles from a rigorous dance practice. Felix is sitting across from Minho, helping him stretch out. He has two feet planted against Minho’s thighs as he pulls his upper body forward. He digs his toes into the soft flesh just to be contrary.
“It’s nothing, hyung,” Felix insists, pulling Minho forward a bit farther. It feels like a mockery when Minho just takes it, bends over like it’s nothing. Curse his natural flexibility and years of dancing.
Minho reaches forward even further to hit Felix’s arm, and Felix would be offended if he weren’t so impressed.
“You always tell me about everything,” Minho whines. He bats Felix’s legs apart, bending his own to switch their positions. Felix is yanked forward with such little grace that he yelps. “Tell me.”
Felix’s mind whirls, heart pounding in his chest as his mouth sours with guilt. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Minho, it’s just that this might be the most reprehensible thing he’s ever done. Fucking one of Minho’s friends, especially one of Minho’s friends that has a crush on someone that isn’t him, seems almost sacrilegious.
“We’re just-” A shiver runs along his skin that he squirms to get away from. “We have sex. That’s it.”
“Uh huh,” Minho scoffs. “The last time you ‘had sex,’ you cried about it for two days because he didn’t say ‘I love you.’”
“I’ve known Chan-hyung for, like, a week. I’m not in love with him,” he says. He drops Minho’s hands, pulling his knees into his chest. This conversation is proving to be detrimental to their stretching time.
“But you could be.” Minho states.
It clicks in his mind when Minho says it, as he’s staring at a lump in the sprung hardwood, the reason why he feels so guilty about all of this: he has a crush on Chan. Chan, who managed to make him laugh within ten minutes of meeting him. Chan, who was observant enough to make their first time together the most memorable experience of Felix’s entire life. Chan, who was supposed to be a casual fling. Chan, who Felix is definitely falling for way too fast.
“Yeah, I could,” he chokes out, digging his face into his knees.
Chan, who thinks they’re just friends.
It’s enough to shatter Felix’s heart, face crumpling as a tear slips down his cheek. “Fuck, what’s wrong with me, hyung? Why do I always do this?” He sobs.
Minho sighs, scooting on the floor until he’s sitting beside Felix, backs against the mirrored wall. He feels like the embodiment of comfort when he wraps Felix up in his arms, and Felix finds himself curling up into Minho’s side without even thinking about it.
“You just have a lot of love to give. It’s not a bad thing, you just have to be careful. Hyung will guard your heart for you if you can’t.” Minho whispers, and Felix breaks. Knowing that someone is willing to stand in his corner no matter what, knowing that Minho loves him this much, has admiration welling up in his chest and coming out as a choked sob.
“He likes someone else.” Felix sniffles. Minho nods, cheek rubbing against Felix’s forehead. It’s the most comforting gesture of all, the feeling of skin against skin, almost like he’s back in his mother’s arms.
“I can talk to him if you want, give him a piece of my mind. Not being in love with my Bokkie, how dare he.” Minho grumbles, nuzzling his cheek against Felix’s fringe.
Felix giggles. “Please, don’t. Actually, can you go to Changbin’s tonight?”
Minho groans. “Sexiled once again. You do know they live together, right? You could’ve told Changbin to come to me.”
Felix shoves him in response.
-----
As soon as Chan steps through the door he’s plopping down on the couch. Felix is freshly showered, his hair still damp as he lays his head in Chan’s lap. Chan combs his fingers through it, untangling the knots leftover from the rough towel-dry he’d done in his haste to open the door. He loves this feeling, could get lost so easily in Chan’s comforting aura. There’s a warmth to him that just never goes away, even in the middle of October with frost starting to cover the fallen leaves.
“Are you ever gonna tell me who your mysterious crush is?” Felix asks before Chan can even get a word in. The hand in his hair pauses, fingers frozen just above his scalp.
Felix has music playing at a low volume from the TV speakers. It’s some random R&B playlist that he doesn’t think he’s actually listened to before. It adds an ambience to the room that soothes some of the anxiety in his chest, especially knowing that it’s just loud enough to drown out the sound of his pulse jumping wildly in his ears.
“It- Uh, Hyunjin,” Chan stutters.
“Oh,” Felix says, fighting against the dread settling in his stomach. “Like, my teammate Hyunjin? Cool. He’s pretty.”
“Yeah, he is.” Chan says, cheeks turning pink. Felix looks away. “Lix, we don’t have to talk about this.”
Felix rubs a hand over his knee. “Why wouldn’t we talk about it? C’mon, hyung, tell me about him. I don’t really know him that well. Maybe I can befriend him for you.”
“Felix,” Chan sighs, but Felix just keeps circling around his knee. “I just- He’s a really great dancer. I think it’s really cute how passionate he is about it, you know? Like, you can tell he works really hard to be the best at what he does.”
Felix’s heart drops into his stomach. What about me, what about me, what about me, echoes in his head. “Yeah, he’s the best,” he mumbles.
“You’re the best, too. You, Minho, and Hyunjin, you’re all the best. It’s why you’re on the same team, isn’t it?” Chan says. Felix would believe it if it didn’t feel like such an afterthought. But Chan never says anything without the full force of his sincerity to back up his words, so Felix can’t even fight him for it.
Felix hums, fingers digging into Chan’s thigh under the guise of a massage. Really, he’s fighting back the urge to dig his nails in. “I like his hair,” is all he says.
“I think yours might be softer,” Chan says, carding a hand through Felix’s locks, and Felix has to stop himself from reaching up for a kiss.
“He’s really sweet, too. He’s friends with Jeongin and Seungmin.” Ah, yes. Chan’s music students. “He brings them coffee when he picks them up and he always has a tea for me.”
“You don’t like tea.” Felix pouts. Chan shrugs. You only like pure sugar, he wants to add, but he doesn’t.
“It’s some kinda latte, I dunno. It’s sweet, you’d like it. I’ll buy you one,” Chan coos, smile growing on his face as he strokes a thumb over Felix’s cheek. Felix smiles, too. He has to, there’s no way he can’t when Chan is looking at him like that, like he’s the most precious thing on the planet.
“Daddy’s gonna buy me a latte?” Felix grins.
Chan breaks into laughter, his legs shaking under Felix’s head. “Yeah, baby. Daddy’ll buy you a latte.” He presses a kiss to Felix’s cheek, crowding Felix’s space. Felix rolls onto his back to stare up at the boy who’s slowly stealing his heart. “Come on, put the movie on. I didn’t come over to talk to my best friend about boys.”
Felix ignores the fluttering in his stomach at being called Chan’s best friend and sticks his tongue out. Chan leans in to nip at it. He pulls back enough to speak, “No, you came over to pretend to watch a movie while we makeout.”
“Who said anything about pretending? I can multitask,” Chan mutters, lips slotting effortlessly against Felix’s.
Felix’s eyes flutter shut as his lips part to make way for Chan’s tongue. It’s familiar and warm and entirely heartbreaking how quickly Chan can move from talking about his crush to kissing Felix within an inch of his life. Felix’s breath hitches in his throat when Chan’s hand makes its way down his chest, sneaking under the waistband of his pants.
The movie never gets turned on.
-----
Three weeks into sleeping with Chan, Felix has his heart broken.
“I think I’m gonna ask Hyunjin out,” Chan says. He’s curled around Felix’s body, holding him close as they catch their breath. Felix’s spent cock is still throbbing from the orgasm he just had. He finds himself wondering if he should’ve made it last, should’ve drawn their last time out as long as possible.
“Okay.” He says. He scoots his hips back and untangles his legs from Chan’s. He wraps his arms around himself, as if that could somehow shield him from the hurt punching a hole in his chest.
“I, uh, I should get home,” Chan mutters, sitting up instead of pulling Felix back into his arms like Felix so desperately yearns for.
Felix inhales and exhales. They’re shaky at best and the hardest breaths he’s ever drawn. “Yeah. You’ve got work in the morning.” You’re seeing Hyunjin when he picks up your students tomorrow.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chan says while he’s tugging his shirt on. His legs are slung over the side of the bed, perched precariously like he’s ready to flee at the drop of a hat.
Felix nods, the lump in his throat growing by the second. “Tell me how it goes?” He asks, even though he doesn’t really want to know.
Chan snorts. “I tell you everything, Lix.”
“I know, just- What if you don’t wanna talk to me anymore?” Felix asks, hating the sinking feeling in his head and his chest and his stomach. He feels like a dead weight on his bed, like he’s two deep breaths away from falling through the mattress.
Chan smiles and leans over so he can peck the tip of Felix’s nose. “You thought Jisung didn’t wanna talk to you and now you’re best friends,” he says.
I was never in love with Jisung, he wants to say, because that’s what he is. In love. It’s taken him a mere three weeks to give Chan his entire heart. Chan has broken every record in Felix’s books, the quickest to make him come, quickest to make him fall in love, and now the quickest to shatter his entire world.
“Yeah. I’m being a freak, sorry,” he mutters instead.
“You’re not being a freak, Lix. I promise that I’m not just friends with you so I can fuck you. Get some sleep,” Chan mutters. He kisses Felix’s nose again. “I love you.”
It’s the first time that Chan has ever said “I love you” to him, but it feels like it should’ve been the last.
Contrary to Chan’s instructions, Felix doesn’t sleep. He lies awake in bed imagining everything he could’ve said to try and get Chan to love him back. Every scenario, every word, they play through his head like a broken record. He’s still awake when Minho gets home the next morning, wrapped up in Changbin’s hoodie and bursting into Felix’s room to announce that he now has a boyfriend. Felix tears up without meaning to.
“Boks, what’s wrong?” Minho asks, sitting on the edge of his bed. The same edge that Chan had been sitting on a few hours ago.
Felix shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m really happy for you, hyung.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m great. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” Minho demands with a smack to Felix’s thigh.
“Chan told me he loves me,” Felix says. “And he’s asking Hyunjin on a date.”
Minho doesn’t say anything, just crawls up the bed until he can get Felix into his arms. Felix owes Minho a house at this point, as payback for all the comforting he’s had to do over their years of friendship, but this might just be the hardest he’s ever cried in Minho’s arms.
He cries while Minho shushes him, rocks him back and forth in his arms like he’s a baby. He cries for every relationship that’s ever fallen through, for every one-sided love he’s ever put his entire soul into. He cries and cries and cries and, eventually, he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, there are two pairs of arms wrapped around him. Three bodies shouldn’t fit this well on a double bed shoved into the corner of his room, and maybe Changbin’s knee is digging into his back, but the warmth that wraps around him is worth it.
It’s actually four bodies, he realizes, when he sits up and notices that Jisung is sprawled over their legs. He’s cuddling Changbin’s arm and staring at Felix with wide eyes.
“Hyung called us over for damage control,” Jisung says, eyeing the two sleeping bodies on the bed. “Are you okay?”
Felix is not okay. His eyes are puffy, his head hurts, and he feels numb to absolutely every human emotion in existence. All he does is shrug. He lays back down, curling around Changbin’s body. He doesn’t get to do this much, despite the fact that Changbin is one of his only other friends besides Minho. Except Changbin’s chest is hard and muscular under Felix’s cheek and it reminds him of Chan, and another course of tears starts to fall from his eyes.
“Okay, so, not okay, then.” Jisung says. He scoots up the bed to take Felix in his arms. “I’m sorry Chan-hyung’s a dick. I know he has a big dick but he shouldn’t have turned it into his whole personality.”
Felix laughs through his sniffles. “He’s not a dick. I knew what I was getting into. It’s not my fault I caught feelings,” he says.
Minho wraps an arm around his waist. “We’re not gonna talk about it,” he mutters, face squished against Felix’s back. He’s clearly still half asleep. Felix doesn’t even know what time it is. There are probably classes or work they’re missing. It’s like Minho can read his mind when he continues with, “We’re not gonna talk or think about anything.”
“Can we talk or think about what time it is?” Felix asks, patting around his bed for his phone but coming up empty. He spots it from the corner of his eye, sitting idle on the charger on his bedside table.
“It’s three-thirty, babe,” Jisung responds. Felix grabs for his phone but can’t quite reach over Minho’s body.
“Hyung, my phone, please,” he says, but Minho bats his hand away.
“Are you gonna text Chan-hyung?” Minho asks, eyebrow raised.
Felix doesn’t say a thing, better not to incriminate himself. He reaches for his phone again, successful this time. Minho scoffs but doesn’t stop him.
The first thing he sees is a text from Chan:
From: Channie <3
Coming over after work~
3:30 be there or be square
Minho, who’s reading over Felix’s shoulder, sighs, loud and forlorn in Felix’s ear. Felix would blush if he could, but he’s too busy rifling through every possible outcome that could happen with Chan in this apartment. Every imagined scenario of Chan waxing poetic about Hyunjin’s hair or Hyunjin’s kindness leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but they all leave him just feeling a little numb. He’s come to terms with the fact that Chan doesn’t like him — he swallowed that pill the first time Chan admitted to having feelings for someone else — and nothing that Chan could say today would make him feel any worse than he already does.
“Should we evacuate the building?” Jisung asks.
Felix shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Just… Send Chan to my room when he gets here?”
Minho nods, crawling over Felix to get to Changbin, who’s managed to sleep through this whole ordeal, oblivious to the damp spot of tears on his shirt. He watches them through fond eyes, watches how Minho places soft kisses to the skin of Changbin’s neck to rouse him, even as Jisung makes gagging noises from the foot of the bed. It fills Felix with want, want, want. He wants what they have, so badly that it hurts. If it weren’t for the already-overwhelming feeling of heartbreak, he might’ve started crying all over again.
It’s only a few minutes after Felix has been left alone that Chan shows up, clad in the same hoodie he’d left in last night. Felix has moved to his desk chair, so that Chan doesn’t think he’s been in bed for the whole 14 or so hours that they’ve been apart, so that he doesn’t seem as pathetic as he feels.
“So?” Felix asks as Chan shuts the door behind him. He watches Chan cross the room to sit on his bed, eyes trained solely on him.
“I didn’t get to tell him,” Chan says. Felix feels his own brows furrow against his will, confusion coursing through his body. “He asked me if I knew Jisung as soon as he saw me and then asked if I could hook them up.”
Felix did not expect this. He’d been hardening his heart against every chance of Chan’s success, he hadn’t prepared for failure. A glimmer of hope rises in his chest that he pushes back down before it can get too far.
“Oh,” Felix breathes out. "Oh, hyung. I’m sorry.”
Chan waves off his concern, lounging back on Felix’s bed. “It’s fine. You should’ve seen the look on Minho’s face when I told Jisung, though. I’d pay to see that again, his eyes were so wide.”
Felix snorts and grabs his laptop from his desk. “Get comfy, we can watch a movie and eat ice cream like a hollywood romcom.” He nudges Chan over with his hip and crawls onto his bed. Chan is quick to pull him into his side, wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist and tangling their legs together,
Chan nuzzles his face into Felix’s neck. “What would I do without you,” he coos.
“I’ll even offer a sympathy fuck if you ask nicely,” Felix jokes, but Chan freezes.
“C’mon, Lix. You deserve more than being my rebound.” He nudges Felix with his elbow, but Felix doesn’t give in that easily.
“I’ve been your rebound for a month, daddy. Or do I need to remind you?” Felix asks, nipping at the column of Chan’s throat. It doesn’t get the reaction that Felix was looking for, not even when he laves over the most sensitive part of Chan’s neck.
Chan shoves Felix off with a grunt. “Do you seriously think that’s all you are? Do you think I’m such an asshole that I was thinking about someone else while I was fucking you?” He’s on the verge of yelling, staring down at Felix with more rage in his eyes than Felix has ever seen.
“Are you kidding, Chan? Why were you fucking me, then? It’s not ‘cause you liked me, you shut me down in two days.” Felix snaps.
“I didn’t realize I had to be romantically attracted to you to want to fuck you,” Chan says, and Felix has had enough.
“Then why’d you stick around?” Felix shouts. “Just tell me that you fucked me because I’m easy and I offered and get over it. You can’t hurt me, Chan, you’re, like, three boyfriends too late for that.”
“That’s not-” Chan grumbles something unintelligible, pulling at his own hair. “God, I can’t believe I have to explain this right now. You’re my best friend, Lix. You’re so loveable and sweet. All of your ex-boyfriends are literally fucked for making you think otherwise, but I just need a friend right now.”
“So, Hyunjin’s good enough for something more but I’m not. Good to know.” Felix scoffs. “Is it the height?”
The physical distance between them is only a few inches at most, but it feels like the whole Atlantic Ocean with the way that Chan keeps backtracking.
“This isn’t about Hyunjin. I don’t care about your inferiority complex right now. None of this has anything to do with Hyunjin. What do you want from me, Felix?” Chan pleads.
Felix shoves Chan so hard that he bounces when his back lands against the mattress. He climbs over him, throwing a leg over Chan’s thighs so he can sit on his hips. He glares when Chan tries to push him off, squeezing his thighs and holding himself in place. It’s the first time he’s been glad to have impeccable balance and core strength.
“Just fuck me.” Felix demands. “If you care about me so much, fuck me. Pretend you love me. I just want to feel loved. Just once.”
“I do love you, Lix.” Chan mutters, reaching up to brush Felix’s hair from his face. It’s grown out considerably in the month that they’ve known each other and it gets in his eyes now if he doesn’t tuck it behind his ears.
Felix shakes his head. “Not the way I want you to. Hyunjin has your heart. It doesn’t matter, though, does it? Not when I have you.”
He leans down to kiss Chan, slowly so Chan knows it’s coming, and Chan lets him. The unsteady breath Chan exhales when they part does nothing to tamp down the emotions welling up in Felix’s chest.
“He doesn’t,” Chan says with another pass of his hand through Felix’s hair. “He doesn’t have any part of me.”
It’s not what Felix wants to hear, nothing close to the three little words that would mean so much, but he takes it all the same. He presses their lips together again, working Chan’s shirt up his chest until his bare skin is exposed for Felix’s palms to roam over.
He kisses his way down Chan’s jaw, letting the sound of Chan’s heavy breaths play through his head like a song on repeat. He sucks and bites at Chan’s throat until there are marks littered over his skin, one mark for each beat of Felix’s heart against his ribcage.
Chan moans when Felix grinds his hips down, clothed cocks rubbing together, and Felix pretends for a moment that these noises are made out of love. Even if Chan can’t love him, Felix can pretend.
The head of Felix’s cock catches on the bone of Chan’s pelvis and it’s enough to falter his movements. “Daddy,” he whines against the skin of Chan’s collarbone. “Please. I want you.”
Chan’s next exhale sounds suspiciously like an, “alright,” before he’s working Felix’s underwear over one leg and then the next.
He makes quick work of Felix’s clothes and then his own, despite Felix’s reluctance to move. It’s like Felix blinks his eyes and then they’re naked, skin on sticky skin.
“I haven’t been with anyone else since you,” Felix mutters when Chan reaches for the condoms in his bedside table drawer. The lube is still sitting on top of the table, never put away after last night. “I wanna feel you.”
“Are you sure?” Chan asks, hand hovering by the knob.
Felix nods. “Are you sure you want to fuck me? I’m not forcing you?” He asks. He doesn’t think that Chan would let himself be forced into anything, but he needs to be sure. This could very well be the last time that Chan fucks him, and he doesn’t want it to be tangled up in guilt and manipulation.
“I always wanna fuck you, baby.” Chan says, pressing a kiss to the side of Felix’s head and a nibble to his ear lobe for good measure, and Felix moans. “You’re the only thing on my mind.”
Chan grabs the lube, bypassing the drawer entirely. He presses two slicked up fingers against Felix’s rim, still cold in his haste to get Felix stretched. Felix sinks down on them when Chan won’t push them any further. He fucks himself on Chan’s fingers, two, then three, until his legs are shaking and he’s moaning into Chan’s neck.
Chan’s cock replaces his fingers at the slowest pace they’ve ever taken. He holds Felix’s hips still and fucks up into him languid and leisurely. It’s not enough. Felix whines and tries to cant down, but Chan holds him in place.
“Harder, daddy, please, harder, harder,” Felix begs with every drag of Chan’s cock against his walls.
Chan only shakes his head and keeps at it. “No, baby. Take what I give you.”
“Please, I need more,” Felix whines, pushing himself up onto his hands. Chan thrusts hard, hitting his prostate dead on, and Felix’s elbows buckle until he’s back where he started with his head tucked into Chan’s neck.
“Don’t be greedy, baby. I thought you were daddy’s good boy?”
Something clicks in Felix’s brain. Chan’s giving him what he wants, he’s fucking him like they’re in love. It’s slow and smooth and fond, like they have all the time in the world to give each other pleasure. Felix can feel every ridged vein on Chan’s cock inside of him, can feel the press of Chan’s balls against his rim every time Chan bottoms out. Every other time has been a hard and fast fuck to get them both off as quick as possible. It’s eating him up inside to know that this is how Chan makes love, slow and unburdened by the limitations of time and expectations.
Felix cries out, thighs squeezing Chan’s hips in frustration. “I am, I’m a good boy, daddy, I promise. Love your cock, please.” He pants out around every staccatoed breath.
He digs his fingers into Chan’s shoulders and spreads his legs wider, helping Chan keep him steady. He kisses his way up Chan’s neck, back to his mouth, until their tongues are brushing together with every collision of their lips.
Their kisses turn into a sloppy mess of open mouths slotted together, completely unmoving. Felix cries out with every press of Chan’s cock inside of him. Chan’s breaths fan over Felix’s lips, fogging over his mind until the only thing he can think of is the brushing of Chan’s cock over his prostate and the soothing circles that Chan’s thumbs rub into his hips.
Chan’s hands move to his waist, releasing his vice grip until Felix is sinking his weight down onto Chan’s hips. His thighs burn with the effort to keep himself steady, and he’s not coherent enough for the coordinated movements required to ride Chan’s cock like a champ, so he settles instead for rolling his hips, miniscule movements of Chan’s cock inside him sending the briefest tingles up his spine.
Chan drags a burning path up Felix’s sides, whispering praises into his mouth as Felix squirms.
“Touch me, daddy, please. Wanna come.” Felix mutters.
“Already?” Chan teases, but he slides a hand down to Felix’s cock anyways.
“Ye-ah, thank you, thank you,” Felix sobs, legs shaking as he sits up and then sinks his hips back down.
Felix bounces on Chan’s cock with renewed fervour, the previously-set slow pace completely forgotten. Chan watches as Felix throws his head back with a whine, nails scratching over his chest, sharp enough to draw blood. It looks like it should sting, but Chan doesn’t seem to care. Chan fists Felix’s cock in time to the movements of his hips, one downstroke for every time Felix lifts himself off to the tip. And then, Felix isn’t lifting off as much, barely moving on Chan’s cock as he babbles incoherencies. The only words he can make out as they fall from his lips are “daddy,” and “yes, please, yes.”
“I’m close, baby. Come for me.” Chan moans, and Felix does.
He paints Chan’s chest with a spray of come, glimmering in the glow of his ceiling light. Felix wishes he could take a picture to immortalize the contrast of white come against red nipples. Chan looks so pretty like this with his swollen lips and unruly hair, cheeks dusted red as he fucks up into Felix’s tight heat.
A prod against Felix’s prostate has him clenching at the overstimulation, aftershocks jolting through his body. Chan’s body tenses as he comes in response, jaw clenched as he fills Felix with warm release. Felix stays right where he is, slumped over on Chan’s chest as Chan’s cock plugs him up. He makes a passing wish to stay like this forever.
“I love you. I’ve loved you since the second time I saw you in my apartment looking like you belonged in my bed. I’m sorry,” Felix sobs. He doesn’t know when he started crying, just that he can’t stop now. He’s physically shaking with the force of his sobs, crumpled against Chan’s chest as hands fly up to rub his back.
“Why are you sorry?” Chan asks, voice calm as he rubs soothing circles into the muscles of Felix’s back.
“I couldn’t stop myself. I knew what was happening and I didn’t stop it. I don’t wanna be in love with you, hyung, it hurts so much,” Felix admits, voice breaking around the words. He feels Chan under him, feels the way his lungs jolt when his breath hitches in his throat. He feels the way that Chan’s chest rises when he takes a deep breath in and then out again before pressing the longest, most loving kiss to the crown of Felix’s head.
Chan sighs into Felix’s hair. “Then I’m the one that should be sorry. For not loving you enough, for making you think that I don’t love you at all.”
Fingers that were previously trailing over his back dig into his sides when Chan bundles him up into a warm embrace. They sit in silence for a while, Chan’s softened cock eventually slipping out of Felix’s hole when he decides to curl up on Chan’s chest. His tears soak Chan’s skin, draining down his chest until they dry in shiny pathways towards his sternum.
Eventually, they fall asleep like that. One of Chan’s hands sits on Felix’s head to hold him close, both of Felix’s legs curled up to rest on Chan’s thighs, the soothing rise and fall of Chan’s chest rocking Felix back and forth until he has no choice but to shut his eyes and let Chan sway him to sleep. The whirring of each breath filling Chan’s lungs is like a lullaby in Felix’s ear.
-----
The cold, empty space to his right is what jolts Felix awake an hour later. Panic settles in when he realizes what he’s done: confessed his love to a boy he’s only known for a month. There’s no glass of water this time, no note instructing him to text when he wakes up. That sinking feeling of dread that Felix has been living with for weeks finally comes to a head, climbing up his throat until he feels sweaty and nauseous. Everything about how Chan has left him, still naked but tucked beneath his sheets, lights dimmed and curtains drawn, is tinted with finality. It feels like a goodbye.
He drags himself from his bed, searching out anything to wear that will be mildly presentable — he does still have to face Minho and the pep squad, after all. He spots a crumpled up ball of black fabric on his desk chair and unfurls it to reveal one of Chan’s hoodies. A scream wells up in his chest as he slips it over his head. He shouldn’t be doing this, he should text Chan and let him know that he left his hoodie behind, he shouldn’t be drawing it to his nose to breathe in that perfume he’s become so familiar with.
Clothed and mentally steeled against Minho’s questioning, he cracks the door to his bedroom open.
“I promise, Bin, I’m not fucking with anyone.”
Chan.
What is he still doing here?
Felix stumbles towards the living room, bare feet pattering against the laminate floorboards as he manoeuvers around the hallway table and the coat rack by the door. Chan’s jacket is still hung up, his shoes still sitting idly on the boot mat. Chan himself is sitting on the armchair in the corner of their living room when Felix walks in.
“You didn’t leave,” Felix mumbles. Shaky legs carry him to the couch, to Minho’s side, who doesn’t miss a beat and wraps him up in a hug immediately.
Chan shakes his head. “I needed to talk to Minho about something. ‘S that my hoodie?” He asks, a smile growing on his face. Felix loves those smiles, the way they slowly take over Chan’s face until nothing is left behind but teeth and dimples and round cheeks.
Felix flushes, wrapping his arms around his middle as he leans further into Minho’s side. He doesn’t want Chan to take it away. It belongs to Felix now, there’s no going back. What Felix doesn’t see is Minho glaring at Chan over his head, metaphorical claws out and teeth bared. If he could hiss, he probably would be.
“Can we go back to your room?” Chan asks, blushing right down to his chest as he tries to avoid Minho’s stares.
Felix grumbles, reluctant to leave his hyung’s arms now that he’s gotten comfortable. He loves Minho cuddles, how dare Chan try to take them away. But he relents and agrees, letting Chan pull him up by the arm until he’s standing. Chan keeps their hands laced as he leads Felix back to his bedroom.
He perches on the edge of Felix’s bed, dragging Felix down with him until he’s sitting comfortably atop Chan’s thighs.
“I wanna try,” is all Chan says.
Felix blinks, fingers curling around the hem of Chan’s hoodie in his lap. “Huh?” Real eloquent, Felix, he scolds himself in his head.
“I think I could fall in love with you if I allowed myself to do so. I wanna try falling in love with you,” he says. Felix stutters, mouth working faster than his brain as he tries to come up with a response.
“Please, just- I wasn’t open to the idea before. It never occurred to me that you were available for me to love. I’ll apologize in advance for the possibility of disappointing you, but the pain of knowing I disappointed you would never compare to the pain of losing you forever. I’d eat a thousand crickets if it meant keeping you.”
As much as Felix is tired of crying, hates the feeling of tears trailing down his face and soaking his cheeks, he can’t stop himself. Of course it’s the fucking crickets, he thinks. He wraps his arms around Chan’s waist and presses his face against Chan’s shoulder, the sleeve of his tshirt growing damp the longer that he sits in silence and cries.
“I don’t want to be your second option,” Felix mumbles around a watery, humourless laugh.
Chan shakes his head. “Never. The first thing I thought of when I got to work this morning was you. I wasn’t thinking about what I was going to say to Hyunjin when I saw him, I wasn’t thinking about what I’d do if he actually said yes. All I could think about was your voice would sound under the perfectly controlled acoustics, about how we could be as loud as we want with all the soundproofing. I was thinking about how you’d yell at me for still having a halloween banner tacked to my wall, how I could teach you to play the piano like you’ve always wanted, with my hands covering yours on the keys until we were playing a melody that was just ours.”
“Keep saying shit like that and I’m gonna think you’re in love with me already.” Felix sniffles.
Chan shrugs, like he didn’t just spout out the most romantic monologue that Felix has ever heard in his life. “I could be, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.”
“It feels like my insides are being ripped out through my mouth,” Felix mumbles. “Like someone’s holding a gun to my head but I’m just glad that it isn’t pointing at you.”
“That sounds awful,” Chan chuckles. Felix snorts.
“It feels like fear and excitement all at once. Like I want time to stop so I can just keep you like this forever, but I also want to fast forward to waking up next to you every morning with a little girl that we named after your mom waiting down the hall for us. It feels like cold winter nights that don’t even matter because your arms are around me to keep me warm. It feels like this.” Felix rattles off. He squeezes his arms around Chan’s waist, entirely unwilling to let him go. Not that Chan minds, he doesn’t seem too keen on letting Felix go, either.
“It feels like I never want you out of my sight, but every time you are I fall in love all over again when I see you smile at me so brightly, like I’m the only person in the world that matters.”
“Because you are,” Chan says. “I think I might be half in love with you already.”
“What about the other half?” Felix asks.
Chan grins, that stupid, shit-eating grin that makes Felix feel like the only person in the world that matters. Because Chan can. Because Felix is.
“Kiss me and find out.”
And Felix does.