Work Text:
⭒.·:⭒¨ ✭¨⭒:·.⭒
The dazzling lights of Haeduús wash the streets in blinding neon, a myriad of bright colors engulf the skyscrapers towering above a mass of bodies searching for a thrill, floating along stars on the purple-mauve sky.
Chanyeol is swept up in the sleeplessness of the megalopolis, itching to find his own piece of entertainment. To be led astray. He finally has the funds for it. On this planet no matter where you go, there's always something to do, someone to spend the night with, an indulgence to keep you busy until you get bored and are forced to repeat the cycle over and over again.
In Haeduús everyone is in the business of pleasure. No exceptions.
The thousands of ads on display far and wide across the city reflect its unabashed excess and luxury. The sweet, perfumed air lures the visitors like bees to flowers to the nearest joint to lose their fortunes and happily dive in decadence. Whatever your heart desires you might find around the corner. Live shows, races, brothels, clubs, hotels, you name it.
Chanyeol tips his head back, a hologram of a tiger leaps from one building onto another in front of his eyes, the neon orange cuts through the shadows on his face and lights up his fiery-red hair. Amazing. His attention is robbed by the voice ringing above the fascinated hubbub of the multitude near him, Chanyeol turns his head, watching him with light interest. He crosses his arms.
“I'll see you back here at dawn,” Junmyeon says, addressing the crew before they disperse. His eyebrows draw together, something unpleasant must be running through his head. His eyes land on a shifty Baekhyun, he repeats, “At dawn!”
“Aye, aye captain,” Baekhyun answers, saluting exaggeratedly. “Don't worry, I'll be back, don't miss me yet.”
Chanyeol presses his lips together watching them, Baekhyun truly doesn't give a fuck, his main purpose is to rile Junmyeon up. He loves it so much.
“Don't get in any trouble,” Junmyeon warns him.
Baekhyun grins, mischievous, holding Soo hostage. The Cerean falls back against Baekhyun’s chest, the beginnings of a smile pull at his full reddish mouth and the streaked markings on his cheeks glimmer faintly. He's happy to go along with the devil-may-care pilot. “I'm taking SooSoo to the casino, I heard there's a palm reader there, I wanna know what the stars have in store for us,” he says with his lips on Soo’s jaw. “ See ya, Cap.”
He walks backwards, almost carrying Soo with him. Junmyeon flexes the fingers of his robotic arm watching them fade away with the crowd walking upstream, Baekhyun’s black, spiral horns are the last visible part of him. Soo has disappeared completely, whisked away.
With his pockets full Baekhyun is unstoppable. Their last job left them with a sizable loot they divided in equal parts. He can fulfill his most outlandish wishes with a wave of his hand.
Chanyeol drops a heavy hand on Junmyeon's shoulder. “They'll be fine.”
“You think?”
There was that time Baekhyun thought joining an illegal race was a good idea and that other time he challenged a Plutonian hydra in a game of cards. Yet Baekhyun has the ability to always land on his feet, and should worse come to worst, Soo is capable of getting them out of a tight spot with his trusty cutlass. Still…“Maybe you should catch up with them,” he suggests.
Junmyeon considers it for a split second, then bolts forward. Chanyeol releases an amused breath laughing at the speed of his steps. Those three are something. He spins around.
A shorter, more delicate body than his gets in his way, stalling him. “Where are you going?” Sooyoung asks, peering at him slyly with one eye, the other hidden under a patch. Chanyeol trembles to know what she can see with it. He stares at the tip of her sandy horns, avoiding her face.
He thought he was the last of their crew left in the spaceship yard.
Seungwan comes closer, her wispy short hair bounces, framing her pretty features. The sweet smile she turns on him gives her an air of innocence that can't fool him anymore. Seungwan is faster with a blast gun than he is. Deadlier too.
“Somewhere,” Chanyeol answers, running his fingers through the back of his hair, brushing the row of silver hoops going from the top of his ear down to his earlobe. “I don't think you wanna come with me this time.”
“Why not?”
“Because…”
He has no real reason to stop them from joining him. They're free to do as they please. They chose to celebrate in Haeduús for a reason. And Chanyeol actually likes his crewmates, loves them even. Spend enough time with a group of individuals living on a ship, working shoulder to shoulder, facing dangers, and you're bound to think of them as more than comrades.
But, he has wanted to run and run for a while now. Cabin fever sets in when you’re trapped in outer space, crossing galaxies, an infinite ocean of stars ahead, asteroids and wormholes confining you with nowhere to go. The Astral Taskforce on your heels.
“We won't step on your toes,” Sooyoung says. “You know this planet better than us and we really don't want to get in the middle of the captain and his darlings.”
Seungwan makes a sound.
Chanyeol chuckles. He wouldn't want that either. Looking between his mates he comes to a decision. Is he really taking them to the club? It appears so. Sooyoung grins, seeing his resolve crumble. She takes his hand, dragging him in a random direction.
He redirects her steps to the red district where the air is even sweeter.
The fluorescent marquee flashes in lurid pink and blue atop the heart-shaped door. “Kaazá Eros” scintillates like a badge of honor. This joint is a popular one on these streets packed with strip clubs and brothels, where sex and money meet.
Famous for its beauties that attract a sizable crowd each night. It is less sordid and cleaner than most places in the planet union, better regulated too. It's anyone could ask for.
Chanyeol holds his REcog card up to the entrance’s scanner, paying his and the girls fee. His credits diminish, though the amount doesn't make a substantial dent to his economy. They truly lucked out when they broke into that cargo ship. They’re set for a couple of months, they can go off the grid and take on smaller operations avoiding the eyes of the law.
“Drinks are on me too,” he says with a grin.
They go down a spiral staircase, the metal groans, clicks, the steps light up, green, pink, blue under their feet. Balmy, sticky air smelling of perfume and spicy smoke blinds into a sultry tune ushering them in. The dark club lit in neon and the yellow glow of hanging lamps is a realm of pure sensuality.
Lust lingers.
Seungwan stares in wonderment, her eyes trail to the woman sitting on a swing front and center. The pretty thing is decked in a silver, holographic bodysuit and thigh-high boots in the same shade. Her movements are graceful, paused, aiming to provoke. Her long black hair falls below her waist in a silky cascade. Seungwan looks hypnotized. Chanyeol guides her to a table with a close view to the main show, his left hand on her back.
“Is this your first time at a strip club?”
Seungwan nods, a cute smile appears on her lips.
“Not mine,” Sooyoung says, scanning the other tables, the clients on their way to their culmination. “I was curious and Baekhyun and I visited one the last time we were on our planet.”
“Course you did.”
He searches around trying to get the attention of a waitress to order drinks. Seungwan keeps looking back at the woman on the swing, the act is coming to an end and she wants to absorb every last second. Chanyeol can practically see Seugwan’s mind working at hyper speed.
“Do you want a private?” He asks her.
“No…” Seungwan looks at him.“Tell me you wouldn't consider it, she's stunning.”
“She is beautiful,” he agrees, “But she isn't my type.”
Sooyoung raises an eyebrow, leaning her elbow on the table to examine him closer. “What's your type then?”
Chanyeol thinks about it. He's met different people from different backgrounds, felt attracted to them for various reasons, nothing has lasted, he's always on the run, always moving. Though there was one time he thought—
The lights fade into a warmer tone, the music slows down, a mesmerizing electric tune pumps out, running through the walls of the club. Chanyeol gazes at the spotlight where a giant golden birdcage is being lowered from the ceiling.
A robotic sounding voice presents the next act, a kind of boiling tension mixed with unmistakable excitement soars in the atmosphere.
…From a faraway land…Enchantment and Beauty…Welcome our superstar…
Instant, fervent clapping and catcalls are heard throughout the club. Not a single table is free. Sooyoung and Seungwan have joined in, screaming words of admiration for the new dancer, beautifully moving inside the cage, skin shimmering bronze. A pair of wings spread out of his back catching the light, peeking out of the bars.
Chanyeol can't speak. His gaze is fixed on him, sensually dancing for everyone's eyes.
“I see,” Sooyoung says, smiling playfully at him. Chanyeol makes a noise she must take as confirmation. “That's your type.”
“Good dancers?” Seungwan asks.
“I need a drink,” he says, clearing his throat.
The drone of the music pulses in his ears, it beats against his chest. Seungwan grabs his arm and gets up to get the drinks herself.
He's in a state of stupor, watching him sway, roll his hips, close his eyes and open his mouth, dragging his palm down his chest seductively. The dancer’s body is lean with muscles that are accentuated by the lights. The clients yell, hold back moans. Chanyeol’s entire body is electrified, little pulses of heat run along his veins.
His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He knows that face, he's thought about it more than once in the past two years.
Chanyeol can't believe out of all the places in the universe he'd find the beautiful Cytherēan here, in the company of others, others who want him, lustful and aroused.
Seungwan puts a drink on his hand, Chanyeol guzzles the glass of Plutonian ale, its bittersweet taste cools him off.
Jongin… Jongin is here.
The last time he saw him he was boarding a traveler spaceship out of Eris.
The crowd goes crazy for him. They love him, they want a piece of him, of his body and sex.
His crewmates talk amongst themselves, he hears them laugh, say his name, but he’s unable to give them more than a second of his attention. His answers are rudimentary, grunts and clicks of his tongue, a yes or a no for a simple question. They don't press him, they leave him to enjoy the show.
He gets another drink, and oh, does he enjoys it. He watches Jongin in hunger, remembering, wanting to talk to him and hear his voice again. Feel his lips, touch his skin. Hard disappointment rushes to his guts when the lights die and Jongin vanishes. He's gone in smoke and neon.
“That was entertaining,” Sooyoung says, Seungwan rests her head on her shoulder, giving him a full look of interest.
Chanyeol stares to both sides, behind him, seeking. “Yeah– that–”
Jongin reappears by the bar, real, cast in light. He jumps to his feet, hurried to catch him before he dissolves into nothing.
“Chanyeol?”
He glances back at Sooyoung. Tapping anxiously the back of his chair. “We'll see you back at the ship,” she says, “At dawn!” Her attempt at a Junmyeon impression makes him smile.
“See you later then,” he says, “Don't get in trouble while I'm gone.”
Seungwan gives him an encouraging thumbs up.
He might need every bit of luck he can get in this lifetime.
Chanyeol approaches stealthily, not knowing why this is a thousand times more daunting than hijacking a ship outside the Federation’s jurisdiction. He inhales.
Jongin is leaning against the bar, carrying on an animated conversation with one of the bartenders, wearing a long burgundy silk robe, his wings are folded behind his back, their beautiful light blue shade is breathtaking.
He clears his throat loud enough to be heard above the music. “Excuse me—”
“I'm on my break,” Jongin throws without bothering to look behind him. His voice is chilly, detached, unlike the friendly tone he was using a moment ago.
The bartender scrutinizes Chanyeol, up and down, his spindle-shaped eyes are distrustful.
“I realize that, but I wanted to ask—”
“I don't fuck the clients. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Try again the day after that.”
Chanyeol isn't disheartened, this is the Jongin from his memories, resolute, strong, takes shit from no one. Absolutely stunning.
“This isn't about a fuck.”
Jongin laughs and knocks back a shot the bartender puts in front of him.
He advances, Jongin is close to reach. The bartender—more like a watchdog—keeps him on his sights. “I wanted to ask you when was the last time you watched Eris’ moon?”
His reaction is slow, Jongin straightens his posture, shoulders first, then his back and head, reaching his full height no longer hunched over the bar. His wings quiver faintly the moment they come face to face after such a long time. Jongin's face is overridden with sudden shock he's quick to mask.
“You…” Jongin breathes out, neon lights dance across his face enhancing his features, from his sharp jaw to his snub nose. Chanyeol follows all edges and contours. Jongin's s eyes shimmer with glittering makeup like metallic stardust has fallen on him and his lips have a mesmerizing sheen to them, they look fuller, even more irresistible.
Chanyeol has lost his voice, his will.
“Is he bothering you?”
Jongin shakes his head, “I'm fine, Xiumin, he's an old friend.”
The bartender—Xiumin—looks between Jongin and Chanyeol before leaving them alone, obviously reluctant.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Chanyeol says.
“Imagine that.”
The conversation stalls faster than he'd want to. He has questions, quite a lot of them, but this isn't the place nor the time.
Jongin tilts his head to the side. “So, how’s your…commerce raiding going?”
“You remember me,” Chanyeol says, smiling. Jongin hasn't forgotten about his profession. He hasn't forgotten about him. Maybe Jongin also thinks about him sometimes.
“Of course I do, Chanyeol.”
He likes how his name sounds coming from Jongin's mouth.
“I can't complain,” he says, “How about you? I thought you were going to Vesta.”
“Things happen. Plans change.” Jongin shrugs one shoulder, the fabric of his robe opens a little on the chest. Chanyeol looks up to catch Jongin smiling, the stars on his face shine brightly.
“True.”
If Chanyeol has learned anything in his line of work is that nothing is set in stone. You always need a plan b and even c.
“I know you're on your break but can you go somewhere more private?” He asks Jongin. The Cytherēan betrays no emotion, he simply catches Xiumin's eyes and makes a gesture to him. The bartender passes him a black card.
Jongin moves purposely, his sweet, fruit-like smell washes up to him like waves, bringing Chanyeol to the past. Jongin slips the card in his jacket's pocket, patting his chest. “On the house,” he says.
He leaves right after.
Chanyeol reads the number written on the card, going through an opening at the back, pushing away the long strings of the tear-shaped crystal curtains, knocking together. Five emerald green doors stand on each side of the long hallway illuminated by a single chandelier, the carpet under his feet is a muted shade of red. His steps don't make a sound.
The card is meant to be used a single time for the amount of time it's charged. Jongin gave him an hour. Door number eight. He pushes the card in the slot and the door clicks open.
Red lights bathe the room in a warm ambience, the single couch is hot pink, roses in various shades of pink and red adorn the side where a dancing pole on a small platform stands and a huge mirror has been strategically placed behind.
Chanyeol sits down, stretching comfortably, arms spread open on the back of the couch.
Music starts up and Jongin comes out from between the flowers. He meets Chanyeol’s eyes straight on forcing him to look at him, Chanyeol wouldn't gaze at something that isn't him, in any room, any place where Jongin might be.
He's hypnotic, magnetic, polarizing. He's a memory Chanyeol brought out at night, when the sun rose or heard a particular song.
He didn't spend every single day thinking of him, it wasn't an obsessive thing leading to heartbreak. When they parted ways they knew what the score was and there were days when no traces of Jongin crossed his mind. Chanyeol kept on breathing as he had done for the past twenty-seven years of life.
Jongin pulls at the tie of his robe, the garment drags down his body pooling at his feet. Chanyeol is winded.
Jongin is impossibly attractive, lithe body, tiny waist, so little Chanyeol goes thirsty at the memories of wrapping his arms around him, pressing his hands to either side, kissing his stomach down to his cute belly button.
He's tall—barely a few inches shorter than Chanyeol—shining bronze. The golden harness shorts and top he's wearing reveals so much of his body, Chanyeol grips the cushion, digging his nails in. Holding back.
Jongin gets up on the platform and grabs the pole, the heels of his boots click.
He thrusts his hips, spreads his wings.
Chanyeol's eyes skim him from his face to his sharp collarbones, the long lines of his body as he moves, rolls, sways. The thin chains hanging around his waist and strong thighs jangle as he drops down, opens his legs.
He bites back a moan.
Jongin is flexible, graceful. He's pure desire. Lust made up in glitter and a fantasy.
But to Chanyeol he's beyond any banal fantasy.
He mythologized him, dressed him up in gold and sat him on a throne. Chanyeol put him above other conquests, though he never thought about Jongin as one. He was far more to him in the short time they knew each other. As ephemeral as they were, the mark left branded on his skin is ablaze. Jongin sets off the flames.
Jongin doesn't stop dancing, filling the room with his beauty and undeniable talent. He rolls his hips, raising his arms in the air painting an elegant line, his wings just as beautiful. He's dirty, alluring. He sticks the tip of his tongue out between glossy lips. Widens his legs as he drops on the floor once more, right in front of Chanyeol.
He sets his hands on Chanyeol’s knees, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Chanyeol’s heart beats wildly in his ribcage. He wants. Jongin pushes himself up, his chest rubbing against his legs, knees, breath hot and sticky.
The heat rising in him makes him hard.
Chanyeol reaches out but Jongin pushes his hand away.
“You can't touch,” he says, sultry. “House rules.” He climbs onto his lap and wraps his arms around his neck. Thighs spread over Chanyeol's legs, Jongin grinds down.
This time, Chanyeol can't stop it. He moans.
Jongin smirks. He knows what he's doing to him and he's enjoying it. He rolls his hips, not longer dancing but grinding. Chanyeol's half-hard cock twitches inside his pants.
He wants to touch him so badly…he uses his self-restraint, keeping his arms on his sides. Eyes on Jongin who presses his forehead to Chanyeol's. His breath is hot on his lips, body hard crashing into him.
They're nowhere near an hour but Chanyeol swears he could come from Jongin's slow, punctuated rutting, his perfect, amazing warmth enclosing him.
His lips part in a perfect O shape. He's pushing Chanyeol to his absolute limit.
Abruptly, Jongin stops.
“You're killing me,” Chanyeol says, roughly.
Jongin drags his wet lips across Chanyeol's cheek to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? I can make it up to you. Meet me outside the back exit before twelve.”
“And in the meantime?”
Jongin draws back, getting on his feet like their previous proximity hasn't affected him in the way it has Chanyeol.
He lifts a foot to the couch, the front of his boot so close to his clothed dick Chanyeol wants him to press closer and get him off. He wants to kiss him, touch him. “You still have time. What do you want me to do?”
“Dance,” he says, “Dance for me, Jongin.”
The bridge of lights is suspended above the city, interconnected across the high-rise buildings, the air gets colder, foggier at this altitude, it's like you're walking through the clouds.
Sentinel droids stand guard at every crossroad.
Chanyeol tries to maintain his eyes on the changing lights of the railings, on the ads and stars. His gaze strays, finds Jongin a million times in the short distance they've walkes. He's on his left side, quiet, face serene, criminally beautiful.
He simply exists and that is enough for Chanyeol to want him.
The dancer replaced the crystals of his costume with a simple shirt and a fluffy fur coat, it keeps slipping down his shoulder, exposing his collarbones. His wings are retracted, yet he doesn't go unnoticed.
Jongin pretends he doesn't see the many eyes begging for another look.
“How did you—”
“What are you doing here?”
They stop, chuckling together. Jongin stands in front of him, he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, almost shy, his lips quirk in a smile. Chanyeol wants to run his fingers through his hair too. It is hard to be with him and not want to touch.
A hazy memory he hadn't remembered until today, comes forth. Jongin dozing off, head on Chanyeol's lap, the eastern wind shaping the snow of the dry planes like blades toward the sky. His fingers carding through the soft strands.
The month they spent together in Eris left a lasting impression on him.
“Fortune has been kind to me,” Chanyeol says, eyes on Jongin. “I conducted a successful business recently– and I found you here.”
“You found me...” Jongin pulls the sleeve of his coat over his hand, his graceful fingers heavy with rings. “I have a reason for being here.”
“Me too.”
“Which is…?”
Chanyeol leans back on the railing. Behind him, the colorful void reflects on the bridge’s floor from an earlier drizzle. He can see their blurry silhouettes, sex ads flash around the edges. “You're gonna make me say it?”
“I have time on my hands and I'm curious.” Jongin moves in, the aroma of his perfume hits Chanyeol’s nose. He slides his hands up his chest, two fingers sneak in between the buttons of his loose shirt. Chanyeol swallows. “I haven't seen a familiar face in such a long time. Humor me. I'd like to hear about your…adventures.”
“My adventures,” he repeats, smirking. With such a beautiful face Jongin can get anything he wants. “We sacked a ship, it was full of goods. We dropped off the crew on a planet on the way.”
He could make this tale more interesting, embellish it a little. Talk about guns and chases. Play the sexy anti-hero, built himself up in Jongin's eyes. But he can't disclose the trade routes they've been monitoring, not because Jongin will judge, there's none of that between them. It's for his crew's safety. There's eyes and ears everywhere. “We sold some of the stuff at very good prices on the Bounds. Got a nice sum myself,” he says, patting his pant’s pocket. “We deserved a break.”
Jongin is smiling at him, his hands haven't left his body. Chanyeol feels a thrill. “What was the name of your ship? Remind me again.”
“Black Pearl,” he answers. He is quite proud of their luxury liner, Junmyeon won it years ago in a race and Chanyeol helped him to get his hand on it as the co-pilot. “Don't laugh.”
“I'm not laughing, it's an excellent name,” Jongin says, his eyes twinkle with mischief.
Chanyeol drags his hand down Jongin's sides, stopping on his hips. “So, how did you end up in Haeduús?
“I got bored.” Jongin shrugs. “I figured I could use my talents here and make some money.”
“You weren't wrong.” Chanyeol digs his fingers in Jongin's hips, pulling him in, the space between them disappears. He smiles at the little noise Jongin makes, delighted, Chanyeol whispers in his ear, “Superstar.”
They're close, close enough to breathe like one. The intimate moment isn't out of place, it's a normal sight around here. Couples kissing on the streets, fucking in hidden corners. Chanyeol thinks they're different, lust isn't the only thing that got them here.
“How long will you be here?”
“I'm leaving tomorrow.”
“Mmm, have places to go?”
“People to see,” Chanyeol adds.
“Do you have plans to go to your planet for a visit? I heard there's a meteor shower this time of year and it's beautiful.”
Jongin speaks softly, only for him.
“Who told you that?”
Chanyeol moves his hands inside Jongin's coat, feels his hard stomach through his shirt, the softness in him, his curves and tiny waist. Jongin doesn't speak but his skin warms, his eyes unfocus, he wets his mouth, exhaling languidly. Chanyeol drags his hands out, through the soft fur he feels Jongin's shoulder, the tips of his fingers grace the feathers of Jongin's wings, though he doesn't go further. Cytherēans are fiercely protective. To touch their wings is an intimate act.
(In his mind’s eye he sees Jongin, mouth parted, forehead pressed against a pillow, his palm flat between his shoulder blades as he thrusts inside him, on the cusp of his orgasm. The feathers soft against his skin, on his hands, his arms when he pulls Jongin closer. Jongin's muffled moans join the meeting of their bodies. Wet, simplistic, carnal.
The memory hits him with the power of a thousand bolts.
Jongin stays in his hold, closing his eyes. In the distance the megalopolis is alive. The party never ends, pleasure doesn't rest.
“Someone I met a couple of years ago on a trip. He said he'd take me to Finikks one day and show me around,” Jongin recalls, his mouth close to Chanyeol's jaw, breath hot, tingling. He reaches up, the tip of his fingers dance down the curved scar below his left eye. His touch rouses every latent feeling in him.
“I did say that, where do you want to go tonight?”
“To the sky.”
Chanyeol searches his face. “The sky? What about the stars?”
Jongin's wings spread and he hugs Chanyeol tightly. It takes him completely off guard. They ascend a couple of inches, his feet leaving the ground. Chanyeol laughs, a deep happy sound coming from inside his chest. Jongin's smile is bright, his face bathed in the fluorescence of their surroundings. Each time he looks at Jongin, that he marvels at his existence, he surrenders in awe, wanting him more and more.
He cradles Jongin's face between his hands and kisses him, hard, spilling in the movement of his lips on Jongin’s how much he craves him. Jongin kisses him back unrestrained, he opens his mouth, lets Chanyeol in.
They come back down still kissing, hands on each other, the landing is gentle.
“In about a minute I'll propose something to you,” Jongin whispers inches away from him, his breath hot, fluttery. Chanyeol wants to kiss him again, wants another taste. “If you say no it'll be one of the greatest failures of my life, but I'll live. If you say no, you might as well let me go. Right this second.”
“I don't know the word no when I'm with you. It doesn't exist.”
“Chanyeol, do you want to come back and spend the rest of the night with me?”
Jongin lives in the tower building behind the strip club—“The dancers get a room if they want, free of charge,” he'd told him on the way here, “I took up the offer. I'm saving up.”—His room is made of shades of purple and pink neon, similar to the one in the club. It's a bit messy, lived in.
He's turned a cold room into his own.
The deep purple sheets on the bed are rumpled and clothes spill out of the open closet door. Corsets, lingerie, lace and leather, shiny garments he must use on stage, clothes he loses, flashy shoes on the floor.
His vanity is replete with perfume bottles, makeup, a communication device, and notes taped to the mirror. Necklaces hang from one side of it, they look expensive and very real. Pearls, diamonds, emeralds.
Chanyeol touches the peach colored pearls. Through the mirror he sees Jongin approaching, he’s taken off his coat and boots, his cream shirt is more translucent than Chanyeol originally thought. In this light his wings look bluer. Jongin hooks his chin on his shoulder, resting against him.
“Some clients think I'm for sale,” he says, his lips warm on the skin of Chanyeol's neck. “Who am I to say no when they want to give me gifts?”
Chanyeol can't fault him for using rich fucks, if he didn't, he'd be at their mercy. He is painting an illusion of intimacy for them, a fantasy where he's everything they've ever wanted, and he seems to be good at playing them. He's resourceful and strong. Intelligent.
He also takes from the rich, without them his pockets wouldn't be full. Chanyeol would've left his life of piracy a long time ago to live a quiet life back on his planet.
Chanyeol turns around, his eyes irremediably fall on Jongin's lips, plump, smooth, with his thumb he traces their shape one time, two times, he rubs on the center, feeling the soft inside, the tip of Jongin's tongue pressing against his finger. Jongin makes eye contact with him and sucks. His brown irises shine, eyelids fall heavy over them. Need settles inside Chanyeol’s stomach, it’s hot between his legs.
He holds the back of Jongin’s head with his free hand and crashes their lips together, kissing him in a frenzy. Jongin moans, holding onto his arms, kissing Chanyeol with the same intensity. Chanyeol’s finger remains stuck between their mouths, wet from Jongin’s clever tongue.
Chanyeol slips a hand under his thin shirt, dragging his nails over the ridges of his stomach, finding all of his soft spots.
Jongin laughs against his mouth, breaking away. Tonight Chanyeol has seen the many sides of him, he is the memories in his mind, a star, a god of seduction, fierce, soft and quiet in his arms, he is everything, all of his layers.
He drags a hand up Jongin's arm, his fingers drift close to Jongin's wings.
“You can touch them,” Jongin says.
Chanyeol is met with a frail openness in Jongin's gaze, he's offering, giving him the privilege to touch him as if time hasn't passed. He hasn't closed any doors on him.
To turn away would be idiocy, Chanyeol sinks his hand on the inside of Jongin's left wing, spreading his fingers over and under the soft feathers. They're delicate, downy, flexible as they move and stir at his touch. Jongin eyelids flutter shut, his breathing deepens, sounding as if he's walked miles.
“I have a confession to make,” he whispers, turning his brown eyes onto Chanyeol.
“I don't know if I should be afraid or not.”
“I don't think so.”
Chanyeol is exploring all the places he remembers Jongin liked him to touch, from shoulder to elbow, scratching gently under the feathers touching bone.
“Back in Eris, the day we met I thought you were after me because you wanted my wings.” Jongin sways on his feet, gasping, sticking the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth. Chanyeol is getting hard again. How could he not?
“Why? Was I too forthcoming? Did I make you uncomfortable?” Chanyeol remembers seeing this beautiful creature, gaze lost, ambling alone, and he immediately knew he had to talk to him. He would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't.
Jongin shakes his head, he runs his fingers through Chanyeol's hair, trailing down to caress his ear, his fingers play distractedly with the amethyst drop earring on the right one.
“You were so handsome, you still are, even more than I remembered. I always liked your hair, the red suits you. Your prominent ears. Your silly smile. I liked you. How approachable you are. But I couldn't help being on guard, you know how these things can end up. You were a stranger after all.”
He knows quite well. Venusian beauty is a thing of legends, the tales spread from galaxy to galaxy, across the stars. They're children of beauty, of lust, of desire, fertile and passionate. He's seen things in the trade business, brutish ignorance driving greed. Some sell feathers, others use Venusians for their entertainment. The winged race from the Kythēria mountains is all the more precious.
“I bet you wanted to run the moment I told you what I do for a living.”
“You're wrong, by then I was far too in to be running from you,” Jongin admits, Chanyeol's heart somersaults. “Though you have to admit pirates don't have the best reputation.”
“No, we don't,” he agrees, kissing Jongin softly on the lips, just a quick press to remind himself they're together again. For a night, but together. “By the way, I got some spices in the Bounds. High quality stuff. I remember you never said no to a smoke.”
“Got any blu on you?”
He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, taking out a small, metal box, its paint is faded. “I do.” Chanyeol against his will has to remove his hands from Jongin, he needs to use them.
Jongin uses his own hands to unbuckle Chanyeol's belt without a word. Chanyeol lifts a brow. “No arms in bed,” he says, tapping the attached handgun holster. He places the belt next to his perfumes, knocking on them accidentally.
Chanyeol uses a free spot on the vanity to roll the spices for Jongin, his thick fingers quite adept for this precise task. He puts the finished blunt between his lips and lights it up. Blu is aromatic, pleasant to the taste, sweet vanilla and pomegranates. It isn't addictive like harder drugs, but it enhances your senses, makes an orgasm burn in your blood.
Chanyeol takes off his jacket and shirt, dropping them on the floor. The joint dangles from his mouth, smoke drifting around. Jongin’s hands skate over his chest, mapping his tattoos and the scars he’s collected. He bends his head to press an open mouthed kiss on the dip between his clavicles. Chanyeol’s dick twitches in his pants.
He holds out the joint and grips Jongin by the back of his head with the other hand, tipping his chin up. Jongin gives him a playful grin. Chanyeol presses his forehead against Jongin’s, rubbing their noses together, Jongin readily parts his lips opening up for him, and Chanyeol blows the smoke inside his mouth. It dances sweetly between their lips, lungs to lungs. Jongin inhales, fussing their mouths. His right hand slips down blindly finding Chanyeol's crotch, he presses the heel of his hand, hard against his dick. Chanyeol moans, bucking up, he almost bites Jongin.
“You're hard,” Jongin says, like it’s more of a philosophical state of being than a hormonal one. He takes a drag from the joint Chanyeol holds out for him, his lips meet Chanyeol’s fingers indecently wet. “I promised you something.”
Heat flares acutely low in his stomach as Jongin drops to his knees. He unzips him, dragging his pants down to his knees, his cock slaps against his belly, hard and wet with dribbling precum. Jongin drags his cheek against the hot length.“I forgot how big you are,” he practically moans, glancing up at him lewdly. Hot mouth, plush lips. Fuck. Chanyeol could come on his face just by looking at him.
Jongin wraps his fingers around the ribbed base of his dick squeezing with no other aim than to see his reaction. Chanyeol takes another puff, holding in the smoke and exhaling shakily. Jongin licks up to the pointy, fat cockhead, flattening his tongue against it gathering the liquid coming out the sensitive slit, lips turn shiny with it. Chanyeol chokes, finds stability by leaning on the vanity, the bottles clink, the sound as loud as his breathing, and Jongin’s wet kisses to the tip of his dick. Jongin licks lower, under the glans, twirling his tongue around the barbell piercing sitting horizontally.
“I want to feel you inside me,” he says, “All of you.” With a fingertip he traces the veins and bumps. “I fucking love your cock.”
Goddess, Chanyeol loves, adores his mouth.
Jongin sucks in the head, swallows him, and Chanyeol has to do everything in his power to not fill his mouth with a load. It can’t be over this soon. Jongin fondles his balls, sucks him. He moans obscenely, the vibrations making Chanyeol harder though he thought it was impossible. Jongin praises him, confessing with a roughened voice how much he loves to suck him off. So big and so good. With the way he takes him down his throat, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth, Chanyeol is inclined to believe him. He wants to do something for him, to him. To show him it’s a two-way street.
He uses his tongue wickedly, bringing him close to the edge again and again, and pulling him back to stagger, unsteady and painfully aroused, desperate to fuck and empty himself. Jongin takes him out of his mouth, cock slapping wetly against his chin. He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
Chayeol grips the base of his cock to hold on a bit longer and come inside of Jongin. He kicks off his pants and boots, freeing himself.
Jongin’s lips are swollen, shiny as if he put his cherry lip gloss back on.
He must have better control of himself than Chanyeol because he gets up from the floor, taking a couple of steps away from Chanyeol. Wings fluttering, the muted light of the room gives them a translucent illusion.
Slowly, he opens the button of his fitted black pants, the serrated noise of the zipper being pulled down teasingly loud to Chanyeol's ears. He does everything with an air of sensuality, taking each piece of clothing off and dropping them at his feet, eyes never leaving Chanyeol, until he's in the nude.
They stand in front of each other, naked without shame. To occupy his hands Chanyeol rolls another blunt. He brings it to Jongin, lighting it up for him. The electric flame shines in his eyes.
He returns to the vanity and picks up a couple of necklaces, the stones shimmer, jingling as they collide.
“Do you think your slick is a better stimulant than blu?” Chanyeol asks, fastening each of the chains and pendants around Jongin’s neck. The light catches on the precious stones, the pink and peach pearls spills over his shoulders down his collarbones, a milky-bluish moonstone shines opalescent against his bronze skin. “Beautiful. Well, what’s your answer? Are the rumors true?”
Jongin sits on the edge of the bed, joint in his mouth, he leans back on his hands, spreading his legs, his cock curves to the left, spilling on his pubic hair. “Why don't you try?”
Chanyeol kneels between Jongin's legs, hands under his thighs keeping him open. He dives in, licking inside his self-lubricating hole. Sucking around the rim. Jongin tastes good. He'd missed this, lapping at the fluttering entrance to get more of him, listening to the changes in Jongin’s breathing, a hand on his hair.
He can't resist it and licks the head of Jongin's velvety cock, the size and girth perfect to take him in his mouth, letting it rest heavy on his tongue.
He sits back on his haunches, observing Jongin. He inhales the last of the blu, smoke fading. Chanyeol can't take it anymore. Chanyeol leaps up, catching Jongin's mouth in a hard kiss, sharing his own taste with him.
Jongin moves back, pushing himself up the mattress with his heels, skin scratching against the silk sheets, necklaces noisily tinkling. Chanyeol follows him, devouring his mouths, hands at Jongin's sides, maintaining his weight up on his arms.
Together they fix the pillows under and around Jongin, finding a way to make him comfortable without inflicting pain on his wings.
“I missed doing this with you,” he says, nipping at Jongin's mouth.
“You've thought about it?”
“More than once. I didn't forget you.” Chanyeol grabs his cock guiding it to Jongin's entrance and pushing, the wet tightness sucks him in. It's so hot and indescribable. Chanyeol never thought he'd be with Jongin again, though he hoped.
“I didn't either,” Jongin says breathlessly, breaking off into a moan. He presses his flexed knees against Chanyeol waist, moving with him. “You feel good.” Chanyeol pulls out, thrusts back in. “Oh fuck.”
“Jongin,” he pants, digging his fingers in Jongin's hips, fucking into his heat. Jongin lets out a shaky breath, his wings quiver, the feathers tickle Chanyeol on every hard thrust. Chanyeol flattens himself closer to Jongin's body, sucking one of Jongin's brown nipples, wrenching a deep moan out of him. The bud hardens in his mouth.
The slick slide of his cock inside Jongin and their moans fill the smoky air of the room, vanilla floats up, wraps around them.
“...Yeol— Fuck— I— I want,” Jongin gasps, clenching. Chanyeol's balls tighten, slap against Jongin's perky ass.
Chanyeol pulls out, dragging wetness, a dark spot visible on the sheets under them. Jongin moves from under him and Chanyeol falls back on the bed. Jongin balances one leg over Chanyeol, straddling him, his hole is leaking, perfectly open from Chanyeol's cock.
Holding both of Jongin's thighs, Chanyeol feels their trembling. Jongin reaches back for his cock, the head rubs his opening deliciously. He throws his head back, sinking down onto his cock.
Wings spread out, Jongin rides him, hands on Chanyeol's chest bracing himself. He rolls his hips slowly in the same way he dances, torturously erotic. Sweat starts building on his skin, he glows, he's beautiful. Chanyeol groans, hips snapping up hitting his prostate on the upstroke.
Jongin’s cock bounces, hitting his stomach, slick and hard. His broken little moans reverberate through Chanyeol, pushing him to fuck him better, hard and swift. Jongin laughs. “Yeah, just like that. Fuck me harder.”
Chanyeol does. Matching Jongin's movements. Sweat gathers on his forehead. “You feel too good, you're so tight, so hot. I fucking— You're beautiful. So fucking perfect.”
This is exactly what he wanted, what he needed before he even knew it. Jongin's tightness, wetness, heat, his laughter and pleasured noises. He slides a hand behind him, teasing the low edges of his wings. The muscles on Jongin's back move, tighten. He clenches around him, slickening further, soaking his abdomen and thighs.
He pulls Jongin down into a messy kiss.
Yes, he needed this. He needed the universe to conspire so they could meet again.
This is the best night Chanyeol's had in a long time.
The room is fragrant, smelling of powdery smoke, sweat and sex.
Jongin lies on his side with messy hair and red lips, delineating the phoenix tattoo on Chanyeol’s back—his position mirrors Jongin's. He kisses his shoulder, rubbing his nose on the warm skin. One of his wings covers Chanyeol's bottom half, the other is draped down the side of the bed.
“Where are you going next?” Jongin asks.
Chanyeol wishes he hadn't asked. He wants to live the few hours he has left on this planet to the fullest. He doesn't even dare to close his eyes, afraid he'll fall asleep and Jongin won't be here when he wakes up.
“I don't know,” he says, shifting closer, addicted to Jongin’s warmth.“We heard about a lead on the Luxion Galaxy, whether we go or not it's the captain’s final decision. Regardless, we have to keep moving. It's safer for us.”
“Send a postcard.”
Jongin smiles, but there's some apprehension in him. Chanyeol pecks his lips.
“I’ll send you a thousand.”
“One would suffice.”
“And…what are you planning to do? What's in Kim Jongin, my superstar’s future?”
“First I'm gonna kiss you,” Jongin whispers. “Then I'll ask you to tell me more about your travels. I've always liked stories about pirates.”
“And after?”
Jongin shrugs, face soft in the low lighting. He's beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes you ache. And Chanyeol aches.
The pang in his chest is new, it’s gnawing at his insides, though it isn't clear for him what it's asking for. He's never been in this position. But he does know he wants to keep Jongin close. He wants to kiss him, lick his way into his mouth. Have him ride him again.
Chanyeol does kiss him, as many times as he can, committing his taste to memory, Jongin’s smile against his own.
They talk the entire night and well into the morning, about nothing, about everything, they laugh and stay silent, sharing thoughts and breathing space. Watching the stars fight the neon of the city.
Jongin fucks himself on his cock just as dawn is breaking, shadows bend across his muscles. He grins charmingly, putting on a show for Chanyeol. He throws his head back, moans, taking everything he wants from Chanyeol, how he wants it.
When he reaches his climax he clenches tightly around Chanyeol's thick shaft, spilling onto his stomach and pushing Chanyeol to find his release.
They don't have time to clean up and get more decent. Chanyeol wipes sweat and cum from his body with a shirt Jongin assures him it's okay to use. He sits on the bed to tie his boots, going through the steps of getting dressed at a slow pace.
“I'll think about this night for a long time,” Jongin says, watching him, already letting go.
Chanyeol turns, hunching over Jongin. “You could come with me…” he trails off, realizing this is a mistake.
“I can't,” Jongin answers, “I have things to do.”
He knew this. Chanyeol nods, putting on a smile. He can't let this be a bitter parting. “If one day—”
“If one day you come back I'll be ready to see shooting stars with you.”
Jongin sits up, the sheets slip off his body, pooling around his waist. Chanyeol would love to slide under them and hold onto him.
He doesn't.
Jongin reaches out and takes Chanyeol's earring, he frowns but he’s curious enough to allow him to do whatever. He plucks a feather from his left wing, skillfully replacing the stone with the light blue feather. “Something to remember me by,” he says, putting the earring back on his ear.
Chanyeol holds his hands, kisses his fingertips. He doesn't need it to keep his memories of Jongin from dying. “Thank you.”
“You could always sell it if you're short on funds.”
“I wouldn't.”
“I know.”
“If you change your mind— I can wait. There are other galaxies waiting for you.”
Jongin kisses him instead of saying something else.
He leaves the amethyst in the middle of Jongin’s palm and closes it. On his planet the day you’re born you're given a stone, Jongin will keep it safe, he's sure of it. And maybe he'll come back for his stone.
When he walks out of Jongin’s apartment the sun is coming out, slicing the sky orange and pink.
He shouldn't wait but he does. Chanyeol waits and waits, eyes firm on the horizon, the rising sun casts away the neon and the trappings of the night soften, blurring with the morning. Jongin won't come.
He knew from the moment he asked him. It wasn't vain hope he clung to, it was a dream he dared to dream, short-lived, fleeting like a meteor. Every moment he's spent with Jongin has been one, fast, they've burned up, bright and fiery.
Chanyeol touches the feather dangling from his earring, its softness reminds him of Jongin, blood rushes to his head, the aching pains in his chest ravage him with memories. Jongin's smile. Jongin's skin. Jongin’s no. He caresses the feather with the tip of his finger again. One day– one day.
Sooyoung has sat with him, the sky is dusty blue and the spaceship's boarding ramp is cold, damp with condensation. Seungwan is inside, sleeping off the hours she spent with Joohyun, the dancer who captured her heart for the night. She had better luck than him. Sooyoung told him in whispers what happened after he left, he didn't afford her the same, selfishly, he wants to keep Jongin to himself.
The Cytherēan can belong to others in the club, they can look at him, want him, shower him with jewels, but what Jongin gave him outside it, on his bed, is his and no one else's.
He stares at the scuffed toe of his boots, then at the metal on Sooyoung’s. “Do you think of home often?” Chanyeol asks her.
There's a pause after his question, it allows him to take a breath and another after.
“Not often,” she says, scratching delicately under her eye patch. “Sometimes at night when I'm alone, I think of Aurockhs’ rivers, the plains. I think of the house I grew up in with the red window frames and forest in the backyard.”
Chanyeol can picture it, her home, the grasslands, the big tall trees Baekhyun has said he used to climb.
“I do miss it, how could I not? I think it's normal, but I like my life as it is.” She peers at him, tilting her head to the side. “I rather enjoy the days I spend with all of you, traveling from galaxy to galaxy.”
“You enjoy piracy?” He asks, grinning.
She makes a face, laughing. “Yes, in fact I do. I'm doing this because it's what I want.”
He understands. Chanyeol is living this life because he chose it. Jongin is dancing every night for a hungry audience for the same reasons. They've chosen their paths, the liberty to do what you want, on your own terms.
When Jongin said next time maybe he meant it.
He looks towards the horizon, the sun fully risen. Brilliant, golden. Three shadowy figures are approaching, walking with stilted steps.
Sooyoung sighs, shaking her head. “I wouldn't have survived if I'd gone with them. I'm gonna go ahead and start getting things ready for takeoff.” She stands up, squeezing his shoulder.
“You said dawn,” Chanyeol says in his loudest voice.
Junmyeon winces, dragging a hand down his face. The first buttons of his white shirt are undone, revealing a patch of red marks on his chest.
“Spare him, he deserves to let his hair down every few months,” Baekhyun intervenes. He grasps Junmyeon’s wrist, tugging him up the ramp. “Soo, are you coming?”
Soo has set his mystifying black eyes on him, Chanyeol has immediate urge to look away. Soo presses his palm to Baekhyun’s cheek.
“All right, come inside when you're ready,” Baekhyun says, holding their Captain closer, like if he doesn't his knees might buckle. From the looks of it, Chanyeol will have to take over. “I’ll find him something to eat, then we'll leave.”
Chanyeol watches the duo, he can't meet Soo's eyes, their depthless intensity makes him feel open.
His crewmate approaches him like one might approach a wounded animal, slow, noiseless. He squats and covers Chanyeol's hand with his own.
Are you sad?
Soo is quite perceptive, catching on the slightest change in someone's mood in a second.
“No.” He isn't sad, he's yearning for what might have been.
Can I do anything for you?
“You're already doing enough by talking to me,” he says, sensing the other's words through his skin. “Thank you, Soo, for always being a good friend.”
Soo smiles, squeezing his arm. It's nothing. Let's go inside before something happens and we're stranded here.
Chanyeol takes one last look at Haeduús, its beautiful skyline, its neon and bright lights. He is leaving something behind, and he plans on getting it back.
“I'll be seeing you,” he murmurs.
The meteor showers will wait for them.
He drinks alone and stands alone in a corner, lights flash, his mouth burns.
“Have I seen you before?” the bartender asks.
“Perhaps,” he says.
“Why are you here?”
“I'm looking for an old friend.”
The bartender assesses him, his cat-like eyes trying to figure him out. “Another drink?”
Ah, the old get him drunk trick. Drunks always tell the truth. The bartender must have heard his share of stories, secrets poured in alcohol, in a brew of dubious origin.
“Not right now.” Chanyeol taps the rim of the shot glass, “My friend is waiting for me.”
He gets another look from the bartender, Chanyeol leaves him with many unanswered questions. This isn't a pleasure venture, he doesn't eye the stage, doesn't bask in the neon.
The other clients are faceless, unimportant.
He ignores them, doesn't even look at the dancers, their bodies barely covered, enticingly moving, swaying, dropping on the ground. They're all so attractive, alluring. Chanyeol's interest in them isn't there. He disappears into the dark corridor at the back. He counts the numbers of the private rooms with his heart pounding, it's hard to ignore like the constant beat vibrating against the walls. He wasn't pining while he was gone, Chanyeol never pines, but he thought about Jongin often.
He wondered, afraid he would be gone. That he wouldn't ever see him again.
But—
Chanyeol pushes the temporary card on the ridges of the green door. The intimate, familiar room, full of punch-pink flowers, lighted up dimly, pink flashes to deep red.
And—
Jongin is there. Doused in light, warm looking skin glowing, the contours of his body sharpened, enticing. Glitter on his eyelids, mouth wet from his favorite lipgloss. Jongin is in front of him after months.
He's too beautiful, too bright to be confined. The entire universe wouldn't be able to hold him back.
Their eyes meet.
That old pull that has always lead him to Jongin grows stronger, his arms are empty without, twenty out of twenty-two of his thoughts were about him.
He wasn't heartbroken, but he ached.
The dancer reacts first, beating him to every single thing he wanted to do.
Jongin rushes to him, breaking every rule of the club. He touches him, kisses him and Chanyeol breathes, he lives in this moment.
“Yes,” Jongin says in his ear, shuddery breath and sweet perfume,“Yes, I'll go with you. Take me anywhere, but take me with you.”
“To the sky?” he asks.
“To the sky and between the stars.”