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“Speech! Hyung, you must hold a speech!”
Felix sinks down in his seat as he watches one of his aunts gesture wildly. A wide grin is plastered on her face, and her cheeks scream of intoxication. The glass of wine in her hand sways dangerously back and forth - one of his cousins ducks away so as to not be hit by red liquid that she will spend an entire evening trying to get out of her dress.
They’ve been at it for hours now, the party that is. From all over Korea have come to Seoul to celebrate his father’s birthday. It was a surprise event, one which took his father by surprise - not in a positive way. His shriek had been out of horror, not out of glee - even if his gaze had softened plenty when he saw that Felix had made his way from Australia only for him.
Chan, his father, doesn’t celebrate birthdays. He never has. Even when Felix was little and still lived with both of his parents, his father usually preferred a lowkey celebration with some cake and maybe a movie. Felix didn’t mind, and neither did his mother. The two of them aren’t together anymore - for good reason, but she still sends only a quick message to him each year, knowing full well he doesn’t want anything else.
So, when Felix was called up by one of his three aunts, he felt the world under him shake. He wasn’t about to decline the invitation. After all, it was a good excuse to go and visit his father after nearly two years of being apart. However, he dreaded the look on his father’s face when he would enter their aunt’s house, filled with an exorbitant amount of people and an ungodly song of:
“Happy birthday!” and “Surprise!”
Now, nearly three hours into the whole ordeal, Chan has somehow found it in him to at least smile a bit. He’s probably had way too much soju, all courtesy of his brother, but also way too much food to even bother getting up from his chair.
Felix thinks he looks cute.
Despite his misery.
Because that’s why he went home, isn’t it? Not because he never had the opportunity to do so. Rather, he could never find the courage to purchase any tickets for himself.
Why?
Because even looking at his father brought back the feelings he had been trying to escape for all these years. His last two years at home – the first two years at university – had been hell. Somehow, he had finally come to the realization that whenever his friends talked about how handsome and hot his father was, the wicked feeling in his stomach wasn’t disgust… It was jealousy.
He hated it. The way his body would react whenever he was in the same vicinity as Chan. How he longed to be wrapped up in his arms again and rocked back and forth - even though he was no longer a child. He longed for their hugs, and his father’s sweet words murmured into his ears. And he longed for the nights he would stay awake and listen to his father bring home another girl, fucking her until she cried.
He’d touched himself to those memories over and over again.
Until he was rubbed raw and stripped from all sensibilities.
Of course, he knew that those feelings were wrong. He could never act on such delusions. He wouldn’t either. However, they were there, and now that he was finally in the same room as his father again, the pit in his stomach had grown tenfold.
“Fuck it,” Chan curses and swats at his sister until she’s dragged down again.
Chan nearly stumbles as he gets up from his chair, and Felix can’t help but chuckle. He watches his father fumble when opening another bottle of soju, only to pour himself another shot. Everyone in the room follows suit, and soon, Felix has a full shot as well.
Three buttons on Chan’s shirt have been opened, revealing more of his flushed chest than is probably appropriate. However, he’s the birthday boy, and for once, everything goes well.. Felix finds it wholly distracting, but when his father starts speaking in a low and gruff voice - his head fills with cotton.
“I didn’t prepare shit, Siyeon,” Chan grunts, kicking at his sister.
She waves at him, laughing and giggling at his expense. Felix definitely feels Chan’s annoyance grow, but he also spots the smile that threatens to tug at the corners of his lips.
“Well, I must thank you all for coming to my 45th birthday party. One that I definitely helped plan and I definitely wanted to take place today. I love you all so much even though you are all little bitche-”
“Hyung!”
Chan coughs, throwing back the shot of soju. He eyes his brother and lowers his glass, continuing to talk as it’s filled back up again. “I, of course, appreciate you all, and I am so honored to feel so loved by so many people. Even though these things aren’t my favorite, I can promise you that the rest of the night will be filled with a lot of fun. I’m sure my dear sisters have all kinds of plans in store.” The last part is mumbled, but it still earns Chan a loud cheer.
“Oh, and!” Chan interrupts before their cheers turn into a collective toast. “Unfortunately, I am of the opinion that gifts are superfluous. However, I must offer kudos to my dear family for sending an invitation all the way over to Australia, for without their effort, I would not have been able to see my son for a long time.”
Everyone’s heads turn to Felix’s. Along with his father, they raise their glasses in the air and cheer loudly before they throw the liquid down their throats. Felix holds on to his glass, shaking as his father’s eyes are set on him, a genuine smile lingering on his features. “To you,” he mouths and nods, tipping the soju into his mouth.
Trembling, Felix does the same, unable to look away even for a second, when he watches Chan’s throat bob as the liquid rushes down.
Swept up in the rowdy atmosphere of the party, Felix finds it easy enough to focus on other people and happenings. He watches as his youngest cousin, all of them about to be legal, take their first sips of alcohol - at least in the presence of their parents.
He laughs when their faces scrunch up in disgust, but he laughs even more when they fake it.
Conversations mainly stay at surface level; most of his family wants to know about his life in Australia and when he’s moving back. “There are more opportunities here,” they say, only to then allude to the fact that he should probably find himself a nice Korean girl soon.
Despite nodding and promising that he’ll make work out of it, Felix knows it will never happen. Not only because his preference for men greatly thwarts his interest in women but also because the wicked crush on his father ravages his mind.
After talking to his grandmother for what feels like ages, her eyes finally start to droop, and she politely excuses herself - but only after making him promise that he will come over for tea in the coming week. Something which Felix agrees to with a wide smile.
However, the moment she disappears is the moment that the night starts taking a turn.
“Son!” his father shouts, loud and obnoxious. He wraps his arm around Felix’s shoulder, bringing the two of them close.
The familiar scent of the cologne Chan has worn ever since Felix was young fills his nose, and as his face falls flush with his father’s neck, all he can do is breathe in his warm scent. Well, until he laughs and pushes himself away, faking a pout.
“You stink,” he teases, finger prodding at Chan’s messy shirt. “And you’re half-naked, have you no decency?”
His father’s eyes flicker with interest, and Felix looks away, unable to not fall victim to whatever hides underneath the surface.
“I don’t stink,” Chan huffs. “And these,” he points to the spots on his shirt, “these came from the bathroom sink that apparently likes to shoot water straight at you instead of down.”
“You have to use the correct-”
“The correct pressure, yes, yes, I know,” Chan sighs, fist playfully punching Felix’s shoulder. “Your aunt must have shown you how to use it. That’s the courtesy you young folks get, old men like me don’t.”
This time, it’s Felix who huffs. He pries his father’s arm away from him. “She did,” he says. His father’s skin is soft to the touch - familiar and inviting. Although he shouldn’t keep their hands close, Felix can’t deny his greed for too long, he is his father’s son, after all.
“But you’re not old,” Felix continues, stabbing his father’s hand with his thumb.
“That’s not what your aunt says. They say that I’m about to expire and that all youth is pulled away from me and that I-”
“Well, Aunt Siyeon did argue that you’re old-”
Neither of them is able to finish their sentences due to the sudden eruption of cheers in the room. Standing on one of the tables is Felix’s uncle, two large glasses of beer in hand. All around him, people gather to shout as loud as they can while they watch him chug an exorbitant amount of alcohol.
“I hate parties,” Chan groans, rubbing his palms over his eyes.
Felix nods, blankly staring at the commotion in front of them. “Fuck it,” he says and takes a swig of his drink. “I need a smoke.”
“You smoke?”
For once in his life, it’s Felix who rushes out first, his father in tow. They excuse themselves time and time again as people try to keep them inside, telling them just how much fun they are having. However, as both Felix and Chan glance at each other, they know that some air is much needed.
Even though Felix is deathly afraid of being alone with his dad.
Felix fishes through his pockets, nervousness practically dripping from his fingertips. He opens a half-empty package of cigarettes, earning a disappointed look from Chan. “Started about a year ago,” Felix confesses. “But I don’t smoke that much; it’s more of a bad habit than a true addiction, really.”
“I don’t think that’s how these things work, Lix,” Chan chuckles.
Felix blushes. Lix. He hasn’t heard that nickname in so long. After moving, he asked people not to call him that. It’s not that he doesn’t like the nickname. It’s just that he prefers it when it comes out of his father’s mouth.
Chan pulls a cigarette out of the package and leans close – too close – when Felix clicks the lighter, a small flame lights up their faces.
His father doesn’t look a day older than when he left. His curls are just as loose and wild as always, probably covered in a beanie most of the time. The nose Felix didn’t inherit still stands tall and beautiful - like the ones the old Greek sculptors carved when they hacked into stone. His grandmother always says Felix should be lucky to have received his mother’s looks, but when he stares at his father, he can’t understand what she means.
Shit.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Chan groans, lungs filling up with smoke as he inhales. The tip of the cigarette lights up in a beautiful orange, and Felix finds himself transfixed. Only when his father goes to flick some of the collected ash away does he light his own.
“Kind of miss the cigarettes they have here in Korea, though, Felix chuckles.
“Are they better?”
“Not really, they just taste like home.”
The two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Felix, in his greed, makes sure to stand close to his father - justifying it by thinking that October is a relatively cold month.
Chan leans down and scrapes the cigarette butt on the wall, leaving behind streaks of ash he doesn’t really seek to remove. “How long are you staying?” he says, turning his head to look up at Felix.
Some loose curls fall to the side, and Felix feels the urge to inhale even more nicotine. “I haven’t bought a ticket back yet,” he confesses. “This kind of came out of the blue and I-”
“Where are you staying?” Chan stands up, his eyes wide, almost eager.
“Seungho’s place,” Felix breathes out. Smoke travels through the air, shrouding his father’s face in thin swirls of gray. “For a few days at least.” When he leans down to extinguish the rest of his cigarette, mimicking his father’s way, he hears the question that he knew was coming.
“Why don’t you stay at the house? Your bed is still there, and I-”
“I don’t know,” Felix interrupts. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He’s about to turn around, the pack of cigarettes already in his pocket. The sound from inside the house doesn’t seem appealing, but the uneasy beat of his heart and his father’s apparent disappointment is even worse.
“Look…” There’s a tug on his sleeve, not forceful or harsh, but rather tender. Felix swept away with the breeze, back to where his father stands, brow furrowed and unsure. “I know you had a few bad years right before you moved out, and I think that leaving for Australia was probably a good thing. And-” he stops himself in his tracks, and Felix feels a familiar ache in his chest. “-you don’t need to tell me what it was. I just need to know if I fucked up? If I did something to drive you away. Fuck, I’ve kept my distance, knowing that you probably needed to work out some…”
Felix digs through his pockets again, and he whips out another cigarette - a peace offering. Trembling hands wrap around the thin length, and his father mutters a thank you when Felix lights it.
“This probably sounds like I’m making excuses, and-”
“It doesn’t, Dad. I didn’t leave because-”
Chan breathes out again, the smoke thick after being denied access to his lungs. “I just miss you.”
Laughter and loud shouts boom from inside the house. The music has been cranked up, and Felix is starting to feel nauseous about even trying to venture back inside.
“I was angry when the party started. You know how I don’t like birthdays,” Chan laughs nervously. “But then I saw you there, and suddenly, it all felt okay. Because I could see you again, Lix.”
It’s impossible to keep his eyes from growing watery. Nervously, Felix nods, taking a step closer. In a moment of greed, he wraps his hands around his father’s body and brings the two of them closer. Smoke and liquor stains his scent, but when Felix burrows his face in his neck, he digs down to the familiar smell he has missed so dearly.
“I missed you too, Dad,” Felix whispers. “And you didn’t fuck up. You have been nothing but great. It’s me that went through something. I, shit, don’t know if I’ve managed to fix the problem, but I think I'm getting there.” The lies have barbed edges, and Felix’s throat constricts around them as he selfishly lets his lips linger a second too long on his father’s neck.
When they part, Chan pulls the two of them down so they sit with their backs to the wall. Felix wants to scrunch his nose and say that it’s probably dirty, but when his father looks up at the sky, smoke billowing from his mouth, he doesn’t find it in him to ruin the moment.
“The distance did me good, too,” his father suddenly confesses. “I had some things to figure out.”
“Was it about me?” Felix asks, unsure if he wants to know the answer or not.
Chan huffs, shaking his head. He inhales one more time before he leans over and tugs at the cigarette pack in Felix’s pocket, his body far too close for comfort. “Another,” he urges. “Don’t let me ruin my lungs on my own.”
A warm laugh blooms in his chest, and Felix nods quickly, helping his father pull out a cigarette for him. Only when their eyes meet, and his father drags the cigarette over Felix’s lower lip, does he stop laughing.
Fleeting eyes, rapid pulse, and the quiet tremble in his father’s hands.
“Open,” he whispers, and Felix complies.
The lighter never produces a flame, for Chan leans in close, the tips of their cigarettes rubbing against each other until Felix procures an orange glow to his. “Thanks,” he mumbles, looking away. His hand drops to the side, and so does his father’s.
Smoke dances through the silent night, swirling in hypnotizing patterns.
“Lix?”
“Yeah?”
“You look beautiful.”
Felix looks down. His eyes travel over his crumpled shirt - one of the buttons on his stomach nearly open. And when a hand gently squeezes his thigh, his lungs fill up with much-needed smoke.
“You can’t say that,” Felix forces out, wanting to hear it again.
“I know.”
They fall silent again. When his father extinguishes the last bit of his cigarette, the hand on his thigh remains. Felix feels sick. His body heavy and his heart aching more and more with every useless beat.
“Did you mean it?”
“Yeah…”
In a moment of pure weakness, Felix agrees to spend the night at home. He walks back and forth on the paved road in front of his aunt’s house. The music continues to blare loudly, the laughter inside even more so. He sees silhouettes of family members animatedly talking to each other, beer and soju sloshing around in their glasses.
They haven’t even noticed that the guest of honor has snuck away.
And none of them notice that when Felix and Chan get in the taxi, Felix’s head rests upon his father’s shoulder.
When they get home, it’s awkward. Chan mumbles nervously as he runs around picking up dirty clothes and mugs he has been too lazy to clean. He explains that he’s been working a lot lately, something which Felix believes wholeheartedly.
During the last year of living at home, Felix found that his father’s work habits benefited him - in the sense that he was absent. However, now that they are in the same house again, he can’t help but wonder how much that work ethic has caused damage.
While his father cleans, Felix walks to the bar cabinet. He pulls out a bottle of brown liquor and places it on the table alongside the quickly dwindling pack of cigarettes. In the corner of his eye, his father furrows his brows, but when he sits down at the table, he doesn’t comment on it.
Instead, he leans forward and lights Felix’s cigarette the same way he did earlier.
They don’t actually drink that much, but they don’t talk much, either. The bottle and the cigarettes are only there to dampen the crushing atmosphere in the room. When his father does ask about Felix’s life, Felix lies – or at least colors the stories with vibrancy. When he returns the question, his father does the exact same.
“You can stay here for as long as you want, you know,” Chan says, breathing smoke directly into Felix’s face.
It doesn’t bother him. No, he revels in it, and for a split second, he wonders how nice it would be to feel that smoke down his throat - if only his father would lean forward and force it down.
“I know,” Felix shrugs. “But I have my life back in Australia, too, you know.”
“I do.”
Silence again. Felix closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. His fingers play with some loose fabric on his pants, mind trying its best to ignore how their feet touch under the table.
“Tired?” his father asks, and Felix nods.
He isn’t tired, not really. But sitting there, slightly intoxicated with his father’s eyes on him, starts to feel more tiring than exciting. “Tuck me in?” he says and fights the urge to run away.
“Shouldn’t you take a shower first?”
“Too tired for that. Tuck me in bed, Dad. Will you do that for me?”
Chan leaves the rest of his cigarette behind as he gets up on two feet, arm slung around Felix’s shoulder. Carefully, they walk towards Felix’s old room. He doesn’t think about sleeping in his father’s bed. That would be too much. If he did that, then he’d never return to Korea.
His father is cordial when Felix starts undressing himself. He doesn’t want him to turn around, but it’s probably for the best. Thus, he only calls for his father when he crawls under the duvet covers, still left from the last time he visited.
The bed dips as his father sits down, a hand gently carding through Felix's hair - innocent and well-meaning. Still, Felix brings a hand down to his crotch and pushes down, afraid of what might show.
“Sleep well, Lix.”
“You too, Dad.”
The touch lingers, leaving behind a burning sensation when Chan gets up from the bed and leaves the room, keeping the door slightly ajar. Felix listens to the sound of water filling the kitchen sink for a few minutes, then he hears the familiar hum of his father’s electric toothbrush - the one Felix gifted him right before he left.
When the lights turn off, he closes his eyes and welcomes the dream that always finds itself replaying whenever Felix is worried and tired.
Rough, warm hands glide up the sides of his body. They don’t touch or squeeze too hard. Instead, they add the perfect amount of pressure to make his mind go mad. From the very curves of his bare shoulders to the slope over his hip, familiar hands leave behind traces of lust.
Felix leans into the touch, wanting more of it. And when a thumb gently brushes his nipple, he lets out a long, deep breath. The touch continues, and by the time the person has his nipple in a pinched grip, Felix is panting.
He tries to wriggle out of the hold, his body set ablaze with how sensitive it feels. However, he’s not allowed. As he tries to move, his back only meets a sturdy chest. It’s as bare as his own is. But where he has a light dusting of hair covering his abdomen, this person doesn’t.
This person.
Even in his dream-riddled mind, he knows that it’s not just any random man. No, for it’s his father who is behind him, his breath hot as it ghosts Felix’s neck. For years, he has had the same dream, and each time, he never tries to run.
A knee forces itself between his legs, sliding up until it rests right under his ass. Felix responds by grinding down against it. Rewarded by a ragged moan from behind. Then the hand slides down again, cupping his ass. His father is gentle as he massages the flesh, only barely spreading the cheeks apart, even when his deep moans tell a story of how badly he wants it.
Felix wants it, too.
He always wants it.
He grinds down again, neck bending backward, as his father’s hand rests on his chest. Even like this, even with their faces this close, Felix is never able to see his face - no matter how much he desires to see the lust that drips from his father’s features. Tangible and raw.
Something hard brushes against his ass, and Felix feels his body grow weaker as it succumbs to lust. He seeks the hardness again by arching his back, ass gliding against a warm thigh in the search for a treasured prize.
Incoherent words form on his father’s tongue, but as always, Felix doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher them - far too riddled with desire.
He tries to reach back, to tug at his father’s underwear, but his hand is slapped away, only for the hardness to lazily grind into his lower back, only ever teasing the area where he wants it most.
This dream never goes anywhere, Felix knows it all too well. So, each and every time it shows up in his mind, he tries to achieve more and more. Needing to push the limits of his own imagination.
But every time he manages to rut down on the thigh properly, the dream comes to an abrupt end. Washing away into nothing.
Except.
It doesn’t.
Felix grinds down, his cock – trapped in his underwear – slides over a soft thigh. He does it again and again. Until he hears a breath hitch, and the movements stop. Desperate, Felix breathes out slowly, keeping his eyes closed.
Behind him, his father curses, his hand having landed on Felix’s ass again. There’s fear in his voice, but there’s also unrivaled lust. And so when a pair of fingers tug at his underwear, Felix continues to lay still.
The fabric slips underneath the curve, resting there as his father shivers through a moan. His breath feels hot against his back, the lingering scent of soju and cigarettes mixing with his own smell.
A finger brushes against his hole, tentative and careful, barely even there. But then he does it again, and Felix feels like he might die if his heart doesn’t stop beating so hard. However, even when the digit continues to press against his entrance, it never dips inside. Instead, the knee disappears from between Felix’s legs.
“Shit, what am I doing?”
The guilt and shame is all too familiar. Felix hates it. Hates how it makes him feel. So when he grinds back on his father’s cock. The man quickly clamps down a broken moan.
What is lost is quickly regained by something far different.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Felix hears his father say as he shifts his body so Felix is only slightly higher than he is. At first, he only feels its warmth, but then, a length slips between his thighs. The skin is soft, but that’s about it, for everything else about his father is long and thick.
A slow, continuous rocking has Felix biting down on his lip, feeling his own erection start to throb with oversensitivity. His father dips a finger between his thighs, creating a slightly larger opening for him to fuck into. However, the finger only remains there until another series of apologies fills the air, and the touch rests against his hole again - pushing harder than before.
“Fuck, I’m so messed up…”
The glass cage shatters when Felix pushes his hips down onto his father’s finger, forcing it inside - further breaking everything by letting out a broken moan. The cock between his legs twitches, but his father stills entirely. Only when his name is spoken does he give a sign of life.
“Lix?”
Felix doesn’t answer. Instead, he rolls his hips, feeling the finger inside curve reflexively and the length between his legs strain. It’s wicked and wrong. There’s nothing redeemable about his actions, but then again, the same can be said of his father.
“You’re a liar,” Felix breathes out, hand flying down between his thighs to feel the tip of his father’s cock peek through his legs. The head is slick with lust, and his father trembles when he dips his finger into the slit.
“I am,” his father confesses, the finger pushing deeper.
“But so am I.”
Felix grinds down, his head thrown back again. This time, when he tries to look, his eyes do find something to focus on. Damp curls lay flat against his father’s forehead, his cheeks are stained a deep burgundy, and his lips are chewed raw.
“I know,” his father says. “You’re my son after all.”
A repressed moan crawls up Felix’s throat, reaching out for the desire that emanates from his father’s body. In a moment of true irrationality, Felix grabs the head of Chan’s cock, twisting it in his palm, soaking it with the pre-cum that has steadily been leaking.
“Fuck me like you’ve always wanted, Dad.”
“Fuck.”
He’s flipped around onto his stomach, the blanket thrown aside, leaving his nearly naked body glistening in the dark room. Quickly, their underwear is pulled off as well, and when his father returns to ravage his body, he sinks down lower until he can spread Felix apart to bury his face.
A desperate tongue glides over his hole, eager and more than willing to pry it open with as much force as needed. “Daddy,” Felix moans and hears his father groan before spitting into his hole, lubricating it for the two rough fingers he inserts immediately.
“You’re so fucking-” the words never come to fruition, for Felix raises his hips and forces the mouth back on his body, soaking his pillow with tears.
The fingers move in and out alongside his father’s tongue, lapping up every last part of him. And when Felix’s cock strains, Chan slides a hand under his body and pulls it down, tugging at it while continuing to open him up.
“More, please, I-”
It’s as if their words are there to break the illusion they have going on between them. So, when they roll off their tongue into nothingness, neither of them cares. Felix especially doesn’t care when he’s manhandled up on all fours, his father draped over his back as he pushes inside.
It’s all too much at once. The stretch is painful - a result of their lack of patience - and the way his tears stain the pillow serves as a reminder of the wickedness of it all. However, as their bodies merge, Felix rids his mind of any thoughts of the repercussions. Instead, he allows his father to grab onto his hands and uses them as leverage to pummel him.
For his father does as he was told.
He fucks Felix in the way he has always wanted.
Even when he is flipped around, Chan doesn’t stop his rough movements. He simply shoves two fingers into Felix’s mouth, prying it open so he can spit into him - almost as if he’s ensuring that Felix is marked fully, filled with up with his father’s essence.
“Daddy,” Felix continues to moan around his father’s fingers, sucking on them until he sees the man’s eyes start to narrow, and his thrusts grow impatient. “Please.”
When Chan comes, he does so by moaning into Felix’s mouth, tongue wildly exploring his son’s insides. Everything about it all is desperate and needy, messy even. And so when his father pulls out, Felix isn’t surprised that he’s filled back up with three fingers and a hand around his cock.
“I knew you were made for me,” Chan says, deep and low, his hand coercing moan after moan out of Felix’s mouth. “Made to writhe in pleasure under my touch.”
“Yes, yes!” Felix cries, his back arching as his orgasm surges through his body. “Made to, hnng- be filled by you. Always wanted it… Needed it.”
His father leans down, tongue lapping up every bit of Felix’s cum, swallowing it with such fervor Felix nearly grows hard again. With his cum dripping down Chan’s throat and his ass slowly leaking his seed, they are both filled with each other.
Filled with the same type of greed and shame that drove them apart.
What comes the day after is something neither wishes to deal with. As their bodies are covered by the blanket again, Felix curls into his father’s chest, unable to keep tears of relief at bay.