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They are told to avoid him. To fear him just as much as they love Junmyeon.
But Chanyeol feels responsible. And he loves Junmyeon more than anyone else, so even as he fears just as much, he wants even more to just. Do something.
‘Something’ in this case means to do the opposite of what they were told.
Chanyeol spots an anomaly with red hair and hangs up from listening to Junmyeon on the phone telling him to stay safe in the damp, ruined city, and he chases after the retreating figure to hunt him down for- something. Answers. Questions? Whatever.
Something niggles at the back of Chanyeol’s mind as he dodges the wet debris of decimated buildings to chase after the clone. Where is he going? What is he doing here?
Why is he running away? Why is he letting Chanyeol chase him?
A sobering thought comes a second too late, right when he follows the clone to a somehow still standing apartment building and throws open the door he was sure the clone took refuge in.
Is he being led into a trap?
The door slams shut behind him and a hard mass tackles him onto the floor of the unit, hard, and it’s his combat reflexes and sheer durability that lets him tank the fall, immediately roll onto his back, and kick out his leg with a fire-laden stomp.
It gets the red-haired clone off him long enough for Chanyeol to stand back up and mark him defensively. Chanyeol watches the other man brush off the shoe-shaped charred outer layer of his black jacket, patting down the small ring of flame and then shedding the jacket altogether to reveal a loose-fitted short-sleeved black shirt, figure unpoised for combat and yet exuding danger all the same.
The two size each other up, one good, one evil. One’s hair the color of sakura petals, the other the color of blood. One defensive, the other relaxed, rubbing at the sore spot where Chanyeol kicked and then eventually snickering. “Nice kick.”
Chanyeol dispels the thought that he’s unfairly hot, talking or not, and instead babbles back. “Why’d you lead me here?”
The clone scoffs amusedly. “So you’re smart enough to figure that out.”
Chanyeol conjures a fire ball in his hand in retaliation to the insult, and the clone throws his hands up. “Whoa there. Calm down, sweetheart. I just wanted to talk.”
Talk?
Sweetheart?
Chanyeol shakes off the second thought because focus, idiot, and latches onto the first one.
“Talk? No, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Great. Then we’re in agreement. Put your fire out. It’s a hazard.”
“What? No.”
Chanyeol half can’t believe what he’s hearing and half feels excitement bubbling because this was the exact opportunity he was looking for.
He just can’t fathom what the clone would want to talk to him for, which is suspicious in itself.
“Just put the fire out, puppy. Come on.”
Puppy?!
The red-haired man is doing a spectacular job disarming Chanyeol mentally, but Chanyeol is as tall as he is stupid and stubborn.
“You attacked me first. You can’t blame me for defending myself,” Chanyeol argues.
“I tackled you. You’re the one who used your power first.”
“How do I know you won’t use your power back?”
At this, the other man visibly shoots him a look of incredulous disbelief. “Chanyeol, please.” He says his name for the first time. Chanyeol ignores the way something inside him jolts at that. “There’s water everywhere around us. I destroyed this very city we’re standing on. This building stands because I decided to spare it. I could destroy you , if I wanted, Chanyeol. But I’m not here to do that. I could also douse that fire for you, but I want you to do it yourself.”
The casual way he displays danger and yet promises not to give Chanyeol a taste of it is just as intimidating as it is confusing. Fear him just as much as you love Junmyeon, Chanyeol remembers. As a show of obvious reluctance, Chanyeol extinguishes the fire in his hand slowly and laces his glare with suspicion.
The clone grins. “Good boy.”
Chanyeol resolutely ignores whatever the hell that was.
“Alright. Let’s talk. But let me ask the first question.”
An eyebrow is raised at him, as if beckoning him to speak. Chanyeol forges on.
“What’s your name?”
“My name is Suhø,” he answers with no problem, which is what disarms Chanyeol more than the answer itself. Then, Suhø speaks. “My turn.”
Instead of asking immediately, Suhø nears and Chanyeol backs away, until he is forehead to nose with Chanyeol, the taller holding onto the damp and slippery countertop behind him, the red-haired man almost an entire head shorter but no less dangerous and imposing. Water drips from the ceiling in the brief silence, Chanyeol’s heart jackrabbiting as he oscillates between tensing up for a fight or tamping down on a confusing arousal.
The room is dark, having no lights or any working electrical appliance since Suhø destroyed it all when he drowned the whole city. Light comes in from the late afternoon sun outside the window, slightly to the left behind Chanyeol, and so Suhø’s face is lightly decorated with a golden sheen, mostly shrouded in shadow but tender and entrancing all the same. Chanyeol gets a closer look at the clone’s red eyes, one clearer than the other as the sun shines on it.
Chanyeol flicks his eyes down when Suhø moves a hand up to touch Chanyeol and the taller retaliates with his own hand on the clone’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” He can’t hide the shake in his voice.
Suhø doesn’t attack or hurt him, which is the only reason Chanyeol doesn’t push him off. Instead, he deals with the hand making contact with his abdomen and then trailing feather-light upwards. Up his navel, up between his pecs, up to his bobbing Adam’s apple, and then resting his palm on the side of his neck, fingers touching his nape.
Chanyeol wonders mentally what the hell he was doing. The mix of confusing feelings only heightens.
“Did you know,” Suhø starts, and then presses down on Chanyeol’s nape, “you could do this?”
It feels like an explosion in his nerves radiating from the point where Suhø is pressing down. Chanyeol’s eyes widen as he feels whatever the loving hell that was in his veins pulsing and throbbing in the same steady pace red, volcanic lines glow and dim on Suhø’s face, his red eyes glowing as well, made more dramatic amidst his figure shrouded in shadow.
Chanyeol sees the hand he put on Suhø’s shoulder glowing the same red lines he sees on the clone’s face and that’s when he shoves the other man off.
Immediately, the throbbing heat cools down and it feels like Chanyeol can see normally again, but he doesn’t shake that certain feeling of- change. Something changed in him. Something’s off, as if all that he fundamentally understood suddenly just became more.
Chanyeol watches his hand go back to normal and then turns to Suhø. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
The look on Suhø’s face is smug, overtly pleased, as if confirming something he had only suspected was true.
“I didn’t do anything. Not really.” Suhø shrugged. “Our Chanyeøl said he saw you could do it when the two of you fought. I just came here to confirm.”
“Do- Do what?” Chanyeol demanded, which would have been more convincing if his voice didn’t waver.
“You can figure that out yourself. All I’ll say is that you all are so boring. You, at least, showed signs of not being boring. With our powers, we all could be like gods of this world but instead you insist on stopping your imagination, and for the sake of what? Protecting this world?”
Suhø invades his space again, locking him into place by planting his hands on either side of him on the countertop. Chanyeol has to lift his chin just so Suhø couldn’t just breathe into his face.
“Look around you, babe,” he mutters lowly. “You couldn’t protect this city from me. Just what are your powers for, hm?”
“We’re not like you,” Chanyeol gulps as he says it. “We don’t use our powers to- to do senseless things like you. My Junmyeon wouldn’t just- destroy a city. He would never do this. He couldn’t, not ever.”
“‘You’re not like us’?” Suhø swiftly grips Chanyeol by the jaw, lowering his face so he could stare directly into his eyes. Chanyeol grabs onto his wrist in retaliation, ready to wrench the grip away if needed. “Darling, perhaps he wouldn’t. But make no mistake, he could. You say he can’t because you think he’s too kind to, but in the face of capability, it is all too easy to give him the motivation to do so.”
Chanyeol trembles in his grip. “Is that a threat?” he asks. Suhø grins. “No,” he answers, chuckling.
“You’re so afraid of what makes us different from each other.” Suhø finally lets go of his face. Chanyeol doesn’t let go of his wrist, because- well, because he’s afraid of what that hand might do. Suhø continues, “Maybe you should be more terrified of what makes us the same.”
The hand Chanyeol is holding claims the spot over his navel, and Chanyeol tightens his grip in response, in case Suhø does something.
“Ask your Junmyeon if he knows how to do this.”
Something writhes in his belly, swirls deep in his pelvis, in a spot dangerously close to his dick. It’s at that point that it clicks.
There is the sudden need to pee.
Chanyeol tries to dislodge the hand but Suhø is persistent, and Chanyeol is clumsier at the unprecedented sensation.
“Do you feel that, Chanyeol?”
It is uncontrollable; the need is immovable and yet unstoppable. The need isn’t his own, isn’t coming from himself, but from him, and Chanyeol is helpless.
He was reaching a place in his body he’d never thought anyone would have ever had access to.
“Here.” Suhø curls all but his pointer finger to his palm, poking below his belly button and agitating his bladder even more. “I’ll show you what else I can do.”
Chanyeol fills with dread as Suhø circles his pointer finger in a stirring motion, and then Chanyeol buckles.
“Fuck,” spills out of Chanyeol’s mouth, seething, becoming suddenly aware of the tiniest motions of his goddamn piss inside his bladder. Suhø catches Chanyeol by the shoulder of his hoodie to keep him up while he messes with the piss, forming tiny waves to make it all the more unbearable for the taller man.
“S- Suhø- fuck- wait-”
“Hm?”
Chanyeol whimpers and buckles even more. Suhø speeds up the back and forth motion of his finger and Chanyeol can feel his will crumbling. He is standing solely because of Suhø’s hold on him now. The clone giggles.
“I knew I could count on you to be like my Chanyeøl. There’s so much water in your bladder already, all I did was move it.”
If by that he means that both he and his clone share the habit of staying fucking hydrated then gee, yippee, wahoo even. They’re just perfectly normal beings who perhaps need more bathroom breaks than the average person–it’s not their fault other people don’t hydrate properly.
“I don’t care- hng- what you and your Chanyeøl get u-up to together,” Chanyeol grits out. “But- I don’t want to piss my pants, so could- hrk- could you- stop that?”
Chanyeol braces both hands on Suhø’s shoulders, desperate and panting, eyes scrunched up, trying to push him off and find reprieve.
“Oh, Chanyeol.” Suhø coos instead, leaning in to hold the taller man in an embrace. It feels more condescending than comforting. “You should have just told me you wanted to go to the bathroom. It’s not good to hold your pee in like that.”
He manages a confused “Ha?” before Suhø stops whatever finger sorcery he was doing and then hauls him over to a certain direction in the apartment unit.
They pass by a musty smelling bedroom into a connected bathroom where Chanyeol forms an idea in his head of what Suhø wanted to do.
Chanyeol gets manhandled to stand in front of the toilet with Suhø right behind him. Suhø takes both his wrists and slams his hands palms first onto the tile wall in front of them. Chanyeol has to spread his legs and shuffle forward, standing over the toilet bowl now just so Suhø could push the hands to the wall.
“Hold on for me, puppy.”
He doesn’t get to protest before Suhø is once again manipulating his piss with a hand on his navel.
Chanyeol’s hands form into loose fists against the wall as Suhø moves his finger faster, violently jostling the pee inside him. The clone’s free hand unzips Chanyeol’s pants and pulls down his underwear, taking Chanyeol’s dick out and directing it to the bowl beneath him, all the while Chanyeol watches from above, breathing fast but at least I don’t have to piss my pants.
Chanyeol takes stock of the situation. He’s standing over a toilet with the evil clone of his lover, who has one hand as the penis holder and the other as the piss manipulator, and the rate they’re going, Chanyeol is about to let out the most intense and puzzlingly arousing piss of his life.
Behind him, Suhø’s whole body blocks any escape, and he can feel a hardness poking him in the ass when he tries weakly to push off from the wall.
“How does it feel?” Suhø speaks in a low voice, which is unfair because it gets so husky and just a tad bit gritty at that point. Chanyeol’s voice has always been a bit airy no matter how deep it is, but Junmyeon’s- Suhø’s voice can be piercing when he wants it to, even in a low register.
Suhø moves his piss manipulating hand downwards, trailing fingertips over his dick and Chanyeol moans loudly because he can feel his piss following that pathway, trying to escape his bladder and out his urethra.
“Stop holding it in,” Suhø instructs. “Just let go, baby. Let go.”
Chanyeol whimpers and then cries out as he does just that, nails digging into his palms as he ceases the pressure holding in his pee and lets the liquid gush out of his dick.
Suhø switched to using both hands to hold his dick when Chanyeol let go, and the clone doesn’t let go even as the last droplets trickle into the bowl.
There’s only Chanyeol’s heaving breaths to fill in the silence for a while, neither men moving any more as they come down from that high.
Chanyeol’s eyes were closed due to the intensity, but he opens them when he feels Suhø’s hands pumping his dick and persistent thrusting from the hard dick behind him. Chanyeol groans.
They end up back in the bedroom, Suhø pushing Chanyeol onto the bed and stripping off his black shirt and pants.
The bed feels damp and smells a bit musty, and he complains as such to Suhø.
“Fine. You spoiled baby.”
Chanyeol doesn’t care to figure out how Suhø drains all the water from the blanket and the mattress, but it feels significantly better than before and Suhø is already stripping him of his pants and hoodie.
“I can never get enough of your long legs.”
“You speak as if we’ve had sex before,” Chanyeol calls him out for the slip.
“Hm.” Suhø shrugs, not contesting it, because it’s true, and continues to take off Chanyeol’s underwear and shirt. “Turn over, on your knees,” he says once Chanyeol is fully naked. Chanyeol gets a “Good boy,” from Suhø for following obediently.
Chanyeol feels a yank from Suhø, who is on his knees behind Chanyeol and pulling him up, back to Suhø’s chest. The clone slides his leaking dick between Chanyeol’s buttcheeks and uses the hand that pulled Chanyeol up to gather spit from the taller man’s mouth. Chanyeol’s hands take hold of his own length to pump it in time with his mouth sucking on Suhø’s fingers, muffled moans escaping through them.
Suhø pushes him down, eventually. Chanyeol lands on his chest, hands having been busy jerking himself off and groaning freely now that the fingers are out of his mouth.
“Don’t touch yourself while I’m fucking you,” is Suhø’s command as he props Chanyeol’s butt up and starts fingering him.
Suhø uses Chanyeol’s spit and his own pre-cum to slick the way for his dick. It’s not the perfect preparation, so Chanyeol bites his wrist when Suhø pushes his length in. The drag in and out is slow but burning, the stretch a little bit too much even with the laggard pace Suhø sets while Chanyeol’s hole gets used to the sensation.
Chanyeol’s hands claw into the bedsheets when Suhø thrusts hard once, staying deep-seated in Chanyeol as he adjusts his hold on the taller man’s hips.
He drags out slow then thrusts in fast, out out out and then suddenly in, again and again and again, until Chanyeol’s toes are curling at the pleasure.
And then Suhø jackhammers in and out of Chanyeol, skin slapping while the mix of spit and pre-cum makes the sounds filthy and wet, the smell of sex adding to the musty scent of the room.
“Let out your voice, Chanyeol. There’s no one here but us.”
Chanyeol didn’t even realize he was holding back. On the next hit to his prostate, he moans loudly, guttural and deep. His panting gets faster and faster until he starts letting out choked off whimpers at every thrust inside his asshole.
Suhø switches to fast thrusts but longer grinding, letting himself bottom out fast and then gyrating his hips while the whole length is inside. Chanyeol bites onto the blanket to muffle his groans, and Suhø must like it because he doesn’t tell him off for holding back or some bull like that.
“I’m close.”
Suhø says the words to his sweaty back, pace becoming irregular as he starts chasing release. Chanyeol can feel puffs of breath behind him, and his hands bury into the sheets once more when a hand sneaks in front to touch his neglected penis. Suhø jerks him off vigorously as he thrusts erratically into Chanyeol, stopping momentarily when he comes inside with a groan. Chanyeol’s hips jerk, feeling the spend inside him while still chasing his own release. He ruts desperately into Suhø’s hand, increasingly frustrated at the loose hold it became while the clone was busy coming.
He feels Suhø pull out, cum following his dick out and oozing down his perineum.
“F- Finish me, you asshole.” He gives up rutting and looks behind him, simultaneously pleading and angry at the satisfied clone. Suhø chuckles back at him with an, “Of course, of course,” and tightens his hold to finally make Chanyeol come.
When he’s about to come, Chanyeol seizes up in a manner similar to when he let go to pee earlier in the bathroom. Again, he groans at the sensation of something gushing out of his dick, although at least this time, it’s cum instead of piss.
He bats away Suhø’s hand from his dick and rolls over on his back away from the mess of cum on the bed.
“What? No ‘thank you’ for finishing you off?”
“Fuck off,” Chanyeol replies, to which Suhø laughs a bit more genuinely than before.
Chanyeol closes his eyes and dozes off all through Suhø dressing into his clothes again and only peeks them open again when he thinks the clone is fully dressed.
He gets a tshirt to his face and he splutters while sitting up, seeing the shirt as the black one Suhø was wearing and realizing the clone is shirtless, abs on full display.
“You can use my shirt to clean yourself up. Excuse me as I try to salvage the jacket you just burned in the living room.”
Suhø’s nonchalance as he starts to walk out is aggravating to Chanyeol, but he stops the clone from leaving just yet.
“Wait. You said your name was Suhø.”
The clone turns back, adequately intrigued by Chanyeol’s line of questioning. He tilts his head. “Yes. I am Suhø.”
It doesn’t go past Chanyeol how the clone makes use of a title that Junmyeon himself chose, a title that his lover doesn’t even currently use because he feels unworthy to use it.
“What do you protect?” Chanyeol asks next.
“Protect?” To the clone’s credit, he stops for just a second before he answers the question precisely, in exactly the way Chanyeol means it. “The same thing as your Suho. I protect my own. I protect my people. And you are a threat to my people. You want to kill us.”
And despite the fact that Chanyeol hates Suhø, fears the man just as much as he loves Junmyeon, Chanyeol is sure of his resolve.
“I don’t want to kill you.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“And I’m supposed to just believe you when you can’t extend the same courtesy?”
“Hmm. Why are you suddenly so eloquent?”
“I’m a fool, not a fucking idiot.”
“That you are.” Suhø laughs while Chanyeol tamps down on his own temper.
Suhø turns back to the door as if making to leave. “There’s a reason why we both sought each other out today ‘just to talk’,” he says over his shoulder.
“I’m sure we’ll see each other again, Chanyeol. I can’t wait.”
Chanyeol stares at his retreating back, smelling of sex and sickeningly damp pine wood. He wonders how he’s gonna go home and explain to the rest how he found out Suhø’s reasons for going after everyone. And how he’s going to tell Junmyeon what exactly Suhø did to show what being more ‘imaginative’ with their powers is like.
God. He’s so fucked.