Work Text:
Chenle’s back in Seoul, the ominous text begins, don’t tell him what happened.
The riverside is bustling with fellow casual runners, a few cyclists and throngs of people seeking a spot to relax while the sun sets. Donghyuck finds his peace of mind on the running track, shorts chafing his inner thighs, classical music blocking out the hubbub. Chenle used to call him moronic for listening to Beethoven on his runs, Jaemin gave him a look as he always does, and the classical music remains on his most played statistics.
Donghyuck skids to a stop, shifting to the left side as others run past him, focused ahead. Panting, he swipes across the notification on his Apple watch and pauses, considering. Jaemin has his subtly dramatic ways though if you point it out to him, he’d scoff and deny. The man is always sending cryptic text messages that Donghyuck imagines is his way of being cut and dry.
But all Donghyuck sees is the panic blaring through those words.
He returns the text with a thumbs up emoticon, to which Jaemin leaves him on read. Typical.
The classical music blasts in his ears and Donghyuck looks ahead at the running track, he still has a few kilometres left in him. He begins to run, chasing down the sun.
The recording booth is stuffy. Humid, thanks to Mark’s tendency to turn up the heater even during the dwindling spring season. It is the only thing Donghyuck would blame for the impulsive text he sends Jaemin shortly after practicing his adlibs: what if I tell him? what will u do?
“No texting, Hyuck,” Mark chides over the mic.
As intended, his disapproved tone drives home by blaring directly into Donghyuck’s ears through the headphones— Donghyuck winces at the volume and snags one side off for a bit of sanity.
“Must you yell into my ear about it?” Donghyuck locks eyes with Mark through the glass window and bites down on his amused smirk at the sight of Mark’s unwavering, disappointed expression. He will only incite chaos once today and he's hit quota just moments earlier. “Right. Okay. Run it back please.”
“Thank you,” Mark slides something up and presses a few buttons before the familiar, crooning music fills Donghyuck’s ears and he shakes off everything else to focus on the lyrics sheet in front of him.
They manage to get through most of the adlibs, as much as Donghyuck can do. His voice is not performing as well as he wants to but Mark showers him with praise. Donghyuck knows he meant it from a producer’s point of view, understanding well that Mark is capable of keeping their working relationship purely professional and will definitely call him out if he’s underperforming, but Donghyuck still takes it with a grain of salt. Afraid of believing too much.
This album has been in the works since the beginning of time, it feels like, with everything going down – after Mark proposed to his long-term fiancée, Renjun, recording sessions are timed accordingly. Donghyuck and Mark used to freely spend time at the studio, inhumanely long sessions where they whine, get frustrated and somehow in the midst of all the chaos, they manage to produce some of Donghyuck’s best songs.
But with the wedding on the horizon, Donghyuck can't steal Mark away from Renjun as much as he wants to. Renjun may be petite and fairly cute on a good day but Donghyuck doesn't doubt that Renjun is capable of harm if he ever desires to. Even if Mark vetoes it.
God the wedding. Donghyuck has put it off his mind ever since he received the invitation with the cheeky 'plus twos’ specially indicated in the corner. He wonders if the other two received similarly. He wonders if Jaemin and Chenle feel the same way. He wonders if he's even being considered.
“You do need to fine tune the second chorus but we got a lot of time,” Mark advises, stirring creamer into his cup of coffee. “Besides, you have to keep your weekend free.”
Donghyuck breaks out of his reverie and pauses midst sipping his overly sweetened tea. Looking at Mark, seeing the engagement ring on his finger, the unmistakable glow from the pre-wedding anticipation –he's known him for so long. Chancing upon him as a producer and falling in love with his catalogue was written in the stars, Donghyuck believes, because it has brought him to this level of success. And it has indirectly cut his heart into half for two.
He raises his eyebrows at Mark. “Am I meant to do something this weekend?” he asks slowly in case he's agreed to something previously and has forgotten since.
Mark brandishes him with a wide grin. It's hardly that Mark is capable of harming him but the possibility is always there thanks to his influence by Renjun, but Donghyuck refuses to entertain the thought and entrusts Mark with his life.
His life slowly crumbles down when Mark says, “I got us backstage passes to the Cosmic Festival just on the outskirts of Seoul!” Mark grins brightly. “I wasn't sure if you had tickets so I took the risk of purchasing.” Then, his eyes turn soft and oh no. “It's been a year, hasn't it?”
Donghyuck nods. Refusing to say a thing.
But Mark is always introspective — the curse of being in each other’s heads for so long. Mark tilts his head, grin subsiding a little, eyes rounding in concern. “Hey, did something happen?”
And because Donghyuck is incapable of hiding anything from Mark, he has a terrible case of truth vomit: “Jaemin and I hooked up last weekend.”
Mark’s eyebrows crease together, confused. “Is this when you told me you went out to drink solo?” Donghyuck winces at the half lie he told Mark in order to avoid suspicion. “Dude, were you with him?”
Donghyuck closes his eyes then. The wave of vulnerability washing over him — he hates lying to Mark and he knows he shouldn’t have but it was a moment of weakness when he called Jaemin out for drinks, even a weaker one when he slid his hand up Jaemin’s thigh and practically batted his lashes at him. The most painful thing of it all is that Donghyuck can’t even blame the alcohol in his system because he was barely tipsy and Jaemin knew that, he did, but they both fell into the illusion of being drunk. It was the only way to cope.
“Yeah,” Donghyuck ends up answering. He casts his gaze downwards, slighly afraid of being perceived any further. The irony hits him, the remembrance of fear exuding off Jaemin’s texts earlier, it courses through his body now. “I didn’t want to be scolded.”
“Why would I do that?” Donghyuck snaps his head upwards to see Mark shrugging. “Do I think it’s fucked up that you two broke your promise? Yes but it was a stupid promise anyway.”
He narrows his eyes at Mark, lips pursing. “Renjun has influenced you greatly.”
Mark chuckles, holding his hands up. “Yo, can you blame me?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes and Mark’s chuckle turns into a half-hearted laugh, which Donghyuck can’t help but join in. “I do think you should talk to Chenle though. Both of you.”
This is when Donghyuck turns an incredulous look on Mark. He must have lost his mind. Surely. “I think I should never do that. Do you want Jaemin to hate me? Or worse, for Chenle to hate us?”
“Chenle will never hate you two. He would understand.” Mark says gently. “It was never going to work out, you know that right? As much as you pull yourself away from Jaemin, the stronger the temptation is.”
Donghyuck quietens and the conversation simmers down, silence passing over their heads in an introspective cloud. Eventually, Mark gets up and returns to his laptop, slipping back into work mode as Donghyuck continues to sit on the couch, sipping his sweet tea. His phone burns with the read notification by Jaemin on his threatening texts, still painfully unanswered. It was an empty threat in any case; he would never tell Chenle without Jaemin on the basis of his cowardice.
And what a sick, twisted joke to have it presented to him on a platter by Mark out of everyone.
if u wish to be a problem, go ahead.
It returns to Donghyuck in hot flashes. Jaemin’s skin sliding against his, velvety and warm, Jaemin’s deep, low voice murmuring in his ear, weaving poetic about how pretty Donghyuck was underneath him, Jaemin’s hands bruising onto his hips, keeping him aligned with his as they moved in sync. Every breath mixed with each other, every beat of their hearts, every single movement driving Donghyuck wild with hunger.
The hunger lasts within him.
It returns to Donghyuck now. Jaemin stands in front of him, arms crossed, lips pursed. Anger is a familiar emotion on his face. It’s maddening how even the furrow of Jaemin’s eyebrows doesn’t taint his pretty face. If anything, he appears more attractive. Perhaps, there is indeed something wrong with Donghyuck as his innate urge is to provoke him further.
When Donghyuck first met him years ago, back when DREAM was still active, back when Jaemin was an idol and not the heartthrob of both the film and fashion industry, he knew he was going to hate him. Knew it from the way the smile fell from Jaemin’s face and instead, annoyance replaced his usual likeable persona. It was a gripe from the start – one that Donghyuck loved as he enjoyed the thrill of ruining Jaemin’s day but then.
But then, Chenle came into the equation.
“Why the f—” Jaemin snaps his mouth shut. Inhales deeply. Donghyuck grins. “Why are you here?”
“To see you of course, apple of my eye.” Jaemin gives him an unimpressed look and Donghyuck ignores that – he is awfully excellent at ignoring these warning signs and he also enjoys pushing those buttons till they burst, till Jaemin bursts. Donghyuck peeks over Jaemin’s shoulder and he’s quick to move, blocking. “Are you hiding something…someone?”
Jaemin sighs. “Are you here to cause trouble, Donghyuck? Because I am not in the mood.”
Truthfully, Donghyuck is here for that, but it is not his priority. He has another purpose.
The hunger swirls in his gut, a ravenous ache that creeps through his veins, working up and up to burst through his mouth. Instead, Donghyuck swallows and grins wider. “But you like it when I do.”
He sees it the second Jaemin remembers the night, as clearly as he does. Jaemin is not often an open book, not to others, perhaps only Jeno and that’s due to their twin adjacent bond that is so impenetrable. To Donghyuck, however, Jaemin is a well-used book, one he obsessively ponders over and over. He sees it in the darkening of Jaemin’s irises, the slight parting of his mouth, the tension tightening the line of his shoulders.
Jaemin goes rigid at the mention of the night but it’s only a split second of weakness before he’s shutting the door behind him and moving to cover Donghyuck’s mouth with his hand. Donghyuck yelps a little at the suddenness and Jaemin flashes him a warning look.
Once he is sure that the door is shut firmly behind them, he lets go of Donghyuck and sighs again. “We’ve agreed to not talk about it.”
"No. You’re the one who demanded to keep it a secret and left me no choice but to follow through.”
Donghyuck thinks back to the morning after where he caught Jaemin half zipping his jeans, still topless in all of his glory. When he saw Donghyuck staring, instead of a greeting, his face had hardened and this didn’t happen, Hyuck. There’s a few times Donghyuck has felt heartbreak, very few, one of which was when Chenle broke the news of having to move to Shanghai for his solo career, and that weekend, as fleeting and blissful the night was, reality crashed down upon them the moment Jaemin reminded him.
The promise.
“What would you prefer, then?” Jaemin says in a dangerously low voice. His eyes have turned a different shade of crimson, one that Donghyuck should fear but he loves to teether off the edge. He loves to see Jaemin like this, so the adrenaline rushes through his veins at the sight. “Would you prefer to break Chenle’s heart?” He gestures to the door. “Be my guest. Wake him up right now and tell him we broke the promise we made a year ago.”
Donghyuck frowns. “It is not that simple.”
Jaemin scoffs, he’s already turned back towards the front door and typing across the keypad. The door unlocks successfully, and he holds onto the latch, keeping it at place. “It really is that simple, Donghyuck. We got carried away, we broke the promise we made to Chenle and now he’s here.” His gaze locks onto Donghyuck’s, an intensity that mirrors the night they had and it runs shivers down Donghyuck’s spine. In fear. Or lust. “I don’t intend to lose him. I don’t know about you.”
When Jaemin leaves him standing there in the corridor, still awashed with perplexed emotions, Donghyuck’s mind settles on a singular thought: how about him?
The promise was to not pursue a relationship with each other nor one another.
It was a sacrifice to be had – Chenle was moving to Shanghai permanently for his solo career. A difficult decision to be made on his behalf, he wasn’t entirely agreeable to the contract presented to him by his dream entertainment label to which Donghyuck and Jaemin thought was mad. They had to chase him down to sign it officially and he was standing there, fists gripped around nothing, but I’ll be far from you both.
Eventually, Renjun was the one who talked sense into him, as he usually does – the glue of the group, the one with enough of a mix of logic and empathy to make Chenle see that this is his path. Even if sacrifices had to be done.
Donghyuck weeped into Mark’s shoulder the night after they made the decision. He’s not a crier usually. Often times, it’s the other way around with Mark, but that night, when he asked Mark to pick him up from Jaemin’s apartment, the tears flowed down his cheeks and he kept mumbling, “I’m losing them. I’m losing them. I’m losing them.”
Mark didn’t say anything, which in hindsight was comforting, he only held Donghyuck to his chest, running a hand over the crown of his head over and over. Soothing his tears, soothing the ache in his heart if only for a moment.
The ache never leaves. It grows. It festers. It deepens into something more horrific, bleeding with pain, nestled in the middle of his chest. So physical in matter that when Donghyuck sees Jaemin or Chenle, every breath is laboured in aching want.
Like a creature that never knows the end to a hunger. Like a drowning, starving man discovering a drop of water.
So, it wasn’t the alcoholic drink in his hand that pushes him into Jaemin’s lap – it was the damned hunger, the creature that yearns within him, and Donghyuck knows Jaemin feels the same way.
Or else, they wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
Skin sliding against skin, velvety and warm. When Jaemin slid into him, every inch filling Donghyuck up, it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, his entire body quivering underneath Jaemin, goosebumps exploding on his tanned skin.
Jaemin ran his hands down the slim lines of Donghyuck’s waist as if in a trance and muttered lowly, “You’re perfect.” Donghyuck closed his eyes at that and a gasp tore out of his throat as Jaemin reeled back and slammed back in a timely thrust.
They fell into a familiar rhythm – deep, slow and steady. Something that wasn’t meant for a night this impulsive, something that shouldn’t be born out of their shared urges. Donghyuck wanted it to hurt and it did in ways that had his heart thumping loudly in his ears. It was foolish to think this would ease the ache, it only made it worse as Jaemin’s gaze bore into his, a fiery intensity that he kept away for so long, desire pooling in those irises that Donghyuck understood.
After all, it was the same language he spoke.
When Jaemin wrapped a hand around Donghyuck’s cock, instinctively gripping and stroking him in the exact way that made him choke out a pitchy moan, he asked quietly. Desperately. “What are you thinking of, baby? Tell me what do you want.”
It was immediate– “Chenle,” Donghyuck breathed out. And nearly swallowed his tongue. Slammed his eyes shut.
But when Donghyuck was met with a brief silence, he opened his eyes again to see a shimmer of a smile on Jaemin’s face. Fond. Eyes round in adoration. It pricked at his heart. “Thinking of him being here? What would you want him to do, baby?” Jaemin stroked him fast, his own hips picking up pace, it was making Donghyuck’s head spin as he tried to concentrate on Jaemin’s words.
“Want his cock in my mouth.” Donghyuck gasped out. He was feeling it swirl in his gut, he was going to— “I want him to fuck my mouth.”
“Perfect little cockslut,” Jaemin cooed. He had one hand pushing Donghyuck’s hips down against the sheets, another gripping his cock so tightly that he was seeing stars. He moaned, let out a string of curses, and his hands curled inwards on Jaemin’s shoulders, his legs wrapping around Jaemin’s waist. He wanted…he wanted… “So perfect for us.”
Us, Donghyuck whined and tried to rock his hips upwards but Jaemin was strong. Stronger than him. His own mouth parted, closed, parted again. He missed Chenle so bad, missed the shape of him, missed his warmth.
“I want–” Donghyuck moaned low and whiny, desperate to reach a high. With every slam of Jaemin’s hips against his ass, he felt the girth of Jaemin’s cock, thick and long, pulsating within him, and he imagined how it’d be if Chenle was there with them. How it used to be, how it meant to be. Fuck. His back arched against the sheets and the precum pooled at the tip of his cock.
“Yeah, baby?” Sweat dripped down Jaemin’s temples and as he hovered above Donghyuck, it hit the sides of his face. Donghyuck’s tongue grew heavy in his mouth, aching.
“Kiss me,” Donghyuck demanded instead and Jaemin smirked before surging forward to capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. It was the end all as he made a mess over their stomachs, moaning loudly into Jaemin’s mouth, shaking in his embrace.
Afterwards, Jaemin tongued at a hickey low on Donghyuck’s chest, tracing the shape, and Donghyuck jolted in oversensitivity. Jaemin pecked a sweet kiss in apology.
“I miss him too.” Jaemin confessed as his head fell upon Donghyuck’s chest, bracketed by his arm. Donghyuck flitted his eyes downwards to see Jaemin’s long lashes fanning out prettily.
Once, a long time ago, when their circle of friends was blurring into one another and they were forced into being acquaintances, Donghyuck used to observe Chenle and Jaemin a lot. Watched as Chenle latched onto Jaemin’s arm and watched how effortless Jaemin’s smile was around him, knew there was something more to that adoring gaze between the two, and was disgusted by the seed of jealousy growing within him. For a while, he thought he only wanted Chenle.
But when Jaemin looked at someone else that wasn’t Chenle one time, it dug into his heart like a sharp knife and Donghyuck knew then. He knew that the equation had to come to three or nothing less.
For a moment, it felt as close to the something that Donghyuck had been chasing for so long, only missing Chenle in the puzzle. His heart throbbed with the pain of the distance between them. Yearned for the warmth of Chenle’s body near them. Another familiar hand slotting into his.
Then, the morning came and broke through the illusion and Donghyuck returns to the self he became that night a year ago. The self that is incomplete without the two.
Chenle performs in fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes that Donghyuck spends cowering in a corner, the smoking corner. He doesn’t smoke, he lets it waft over him, oddly finds peace in the hazy air. He almost asks for a stick just to set his insides on fire or feel as close to it to distract the larger issue at hand.
Mark had come and attempted to tug him backstage to meet Chenle but Donghyuck refused. Made up an excuse about having a stomachache (not a lie) and hung somewhere far from the crowd.
The tickets Mark got for them were VIP passes that grant access to a viewing box above the overwhelming festival crowd. Ideal and secluded. Any other time, Donghyuck would appreciate the exclusivity but this time, he wants to be lost in the crowd, so deep in the chaos of it all that he won’t hear his own thoughts.
“Jaemin isn’t here,” Mark assured him in the drive over. “He was supposed to come but he had a photo op that he can’t get out of.” Donghyuck wondered if he looked like a scaredy cat, out of his wits with his clenched fists. “Don’t worry.”
Yet, Donghyuck worries.
There’s a text on his phone, a notification from Chenle waiting to be answered: heard from a little birdie that im seeing u tonight? And it’s an invitation that Donghyuck knows he should take it under the pretence of normalcy. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, toys with it for a few seconds, skirts around by clicking on different apps and clearing other notifications until all that’s left is Chenle.
He misses him. Underneath all of the spiking nerves, Donghyuck really misses him. They video call every week and text – or as much as Donghyuck manages as he’s not good at the texting aspect, he’s more of a caller and so, he’d rather stay on the call for hours, listening to Chenle talk about everything and anything. Sometimes Jaemin joins in between waiting periods when he’s on standby during a photoshoot, the time difference means that Jaemin remains awake at the end of the call, while the other two fall asleep.
Seoul, Shanghai and Paris. Time becomes the longest distance amongst them.
maybe u will, Donghyuck replies on text now, good luck baby. Chenle’s answer is immediate and it is of a smiley cat emoticon, one of his go-to emoticons.
It’s enough of a courage boost for him to find Mark back in the VIP box, his hands still slightly shaky from the nerves but he musters up a smile when Mark sees him.
“You okay?” Mark asks casually once Donghyuck is near enough and he nods.
The thing about Mark Lee is that he never questions further than your wellbeing. Donghyuck knows that he knows but Mark won’t push it. He merely takes Donghyuck’s answering nod as it is and pulls him in closer by his side right before the lights dim on stage in preparation for Chenle’s performance.
Donghyuck has had the privilege of watching Chenle sing up close multiple times – even a few times where Chenle had sung him to sleep in his lap – but the reality of distance causes one to forget so all the air rushes out of Donghyuck’s lungs the moment Chenle steps up on stage, fitting right into where he belongs, looks out into crowd and begins singing.
How he misses him. Donghyuck’s heart is caught, bloodied, in his fist, lump growing in throat, as Chenle’s melodious voice travels into his ears. Listening to him on the radio fairs no justice to his live vocals and just like everyone else in the crowd, Donghyuck is similarly stunned, mouth gaping, because that’s the man he loves. That’s the man he loves.
And he might have possibly wrecked everything over a course of a night.
“I nearly forgot how amazing he is live,” Mark says and he’s in the middle of recording a video. Possibly for Renjun.
Donghyuck doesn’t say anything to that, head swirling with a million emotions at once. It’s a split second, just a second, but Chenle glances upwards, gaze seeking, searching until it lands on him, and his lips twitch upwards into his soft smile.
“I have one last song for you. It’s a very special one, dedicated to two very special people in my life. One of which is in the crowd tonight.” The audience cheers, and Chenle blushes a little, beaming. “This is my light. Sing along if you know it.” And Donghyuck’s heart falls.
He’s wrenched back in time to a scene where his head was cushioned against Jaemin’s shoulder, fingers playing with the threads of his ripped jeans. Every time he brushed his fingers against Jaemin’s inner thigh, he would jolt and fix Donghyuck with a harmless glare. There was heat behind that gaze which Donghyuck found himself to be punished on his knees later on in the bedroom, but the heat radiated off him, warming up Donghyuck’s insides, sinking in his gut.
Chenle was toying with the piano, the sound of the keys trinkling in the room. They were being lazy, cozying up one of the rare days where they were all free for an entire day to be together — Jaemin’s schedule finally cleared up after Paris Fashion Week and his next acting gig wasn’t until the next spring, Chenle’s album was slotted for three months down the road and Donghyuck just came out of his album promotional cycle.
The piano was decor in Jaemin’s apartment, he used to play when he was younger, a hobby forced upon him by his mother. Chenle was the only one dusting off the keys, playing random pieces he had remembered from his own time as a piano prodigy.
This time, however, it was unfamiliar. Not a Hans Zimmer piece from his catalogue. Donghyuck straightened up, listening closely. Then, Chenle began singing, his voice softer, sharp on the syllables as he usually sounded when he sang in Mandarin. Donghyuck isn’t well-versed in the language, having picked up bits and pieces from the close proximity to Chenle and Renjun, but he understood enough to feel his heart expanding, eyes welling up.
Chenle cut off abruptly, his fingers dancing over the piano keys clumsily towards the end. “That’s all I have for now,” he said shyly. “It’s a song I’ve been writing for my first full album.” Then, he slanted his gaze to both of them, stunned in silence over the beauty of the man before them, “It’s about us.”
In my dreams, I'm still here, waiting for you, lying beside you, counting the drops with you, Chenle sings now, in front of thousands, eyes closed, lost in the melody.
Donghyuck’s eyes water, like it’s the first time he’s hearing it. He feels Mark inching closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and the warmth of his touch seeps in comfortably. Welcoming. Donghyuck finds himself leaning into Mark as his heart shatters in the wake of the heavy realisation that he wants Chenle.
“I’ll be waiting outside,” Mark says right before Donghyuck heads into Chenle’s artiste room.
They’re backstage, crew members scattered around them, as the festival continues but for Donghyuck, it ended the second Chenle left the stage. He walked over in a light trance, barely registering the fact that he will be seeing Chenle soon.
Donghyuck pauses a few metres away from the door. Heart beating impossibly fast in his chest that he could vomit from the anxiety. He parts his lips, hoping to ask Mark to come in with him, but the door opens, revealing Chenle in his glory, and Donghyuck physically feels his heart skidding to a complete halt.
Chenle’s gorgeous, he knows this. He’s very aware of it, but he’s gorgeous and he’s right in front of Donghyuck in the flesh. The last time he saw him was at Christmas at Mark and Renjun’s place. Spring is coming to an end now, the humidity plastering itself to the back of their necks, cicadas buzzing in their ears. He’s seen him a million times on his phone or laptop screen, the connection further pixelating his features but still discernable enough to Donghyuck to admire and recognise.
He takes a step forward, then two, then all the way till he’s crashing into Chenle’s chest, nearly bumping his forehead against his shoulder. Chenle almost staggers backwards from the weight but he catches Donghyuck at the waist, he always does, and grips onto him tightly.
Mumbling into Chenle’s satin button-down, voice hoarse with unuse and so many unsaid things, Donghyuck goes: “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” Chenle says and pulls back a little. He frames Donghyuck’s face gingerly, the palm of his hand perfectly cupping Donghyuck’s cheek. His gaze has softened, zeroing in on Donghyuck, eyes poring every detail. Then, his gaze dips down to Donghyuck’s cupid bow and his breath catches in his throat. “I miss you.”
Donghyuck doesn’t answer, he tips forward to kiss Chenle, sighing the second their lips touch. Chenle’s mouth is as soft as he remembers, pinked and plump. Donghyuck swallows the mewling sound Chenle makes, and runs his tongue over the back of his teeth just as Chenle pulls him in closer and closer till their chests make contact.
“Fuck,” Chenle curses and leans back, eyes wild. Donghyuck loves him like this, exactly like this. Reduced to a mess, disheveled and beautiful. So beautiful, Donghyuck leans in to steal a kiss and Chenle indulges him again, groaning when Donghyuck mouths over his jawline, trailing down till he finds his sensitive spot and taking advantage of it with his busy mouth. His hand grips onto Donghyuck’s arm instead and he barely croaks out, “Babe, we can continue in my room.”
Donghyuck lets himself be tugged into Chenle’s room, his back hitting the door as it slams shut behind them, and Chenle doesn’t waste a second, crashing his lips onto his again. He arches into Chenle, arms swept around his neck, hands digging into his hair, undoing all of the gelwork.
It creeps up on him then, the hunger. It never gets satiated. He pulls Chenle’s hair and he chokes out a moan, deep and guttural in his throat, it stirs crazily in the pit of Donghyuck’s stomach. He’s achingly hard, and he can feel Chenle’s cock throbbing against his hipbone. Donghyuck sucks on a high spot on Chenle’s neck but when he leans away to admire his handiwork, he sees Jaemin with the hickey instead, an unevenly shaped bruise on his fair skin, blooming red.
Donghyuck nearly hits his head on the doorframe from how hard he reels backwards. Chenle lets out a noise, immediately checking him. “Shit, are you alright, baby?” Donghyuck closes his eyes at the pet name, stills himself from the rush of lust coursing through his body, halts every urge before anything worsens.
“I’m sorry. I–” Donghyuck holds a hand to Chenle’s chest, gently pushing him back until they’re a notable distance apart. Chenle’s eyebrows furrow, creasing in perplexity over Donghyuck’s sudden actions, he doesn’t blame him. He sees a loveseat snugly fitted into the small room and pulls Chenle there by the hand, forcing him to sit beside him. The fear seizes him once again as Donghyuck faces Chenle, his air is limited, even more so in the face of Chenle’s beautifully sculptured face. “I have something to tell you.”
Chenle tilts his head, gaze searching Donghyuck’s. Then, Donghyuck’s own gaze flicks elsewhere, focusing on a mindless spot. He inhales deeply. “Something happened between Jaemin and I.”
All of a sudden, Donghyuck feels Chenle’s hand covering his, slotting in perfectly, intertwining their hands together, and– “I know.” Donghyuck swerves back to face him, seeing the ghost of a smile on his face. It brightens further. God. “You don’t have to apologise. I know.”
It’s Donghyuck’s turn to be confused. “Did Jaemin–?”
“Yeah,” Chenle affirms, nodding. His thumb is stroking against the back of Donghyuck’s hand, it is soothing. “You two can’t keep a secret from me. I saw the poorly concealed hickey on his neck and I immediately knew. Him confessing to me is just a confirmation.”
Oh. “You’re not…? Are you angry?” Donghyuck asks, voice growing smaller. He absentmindedly fiddles with the cushion on the love seat while his other hand is tightly intertwined with Chenle– it’s the only thing that grounds him. “We made a promise and we shouldn’t have… Not without you.”
If Jaemin is a well-used book to Donghyuck, Chenle is the bible he religiously reads. Every inch of his face is memorised like a verse. Thus, it’s perplexing to Donghyuck that there is no ounce of anger on his face, no tell-tale sign. Instead, his eyes are round in understanding, his bottom lip jutted out naturally in a pout and Donghyuck watches as his lips stretch into a small smile. Assuring.
“Why would I be?” Chenle questions quietly. “You both love each other.”
“And we love you.” Donghyuck counters. “I love you.”
“I know,” Chenle says and he brings both of their intertwined hands to his mouth. Soft, reddened mouth pressed against Donghyuck’s warmed skin. “Which is why I’m asking the two of you to be my plus ones to the wedding.”
Donghyuck goes still. He stares at Chenle, at their intertwined hands and he lets out a soft, confused gasp. “Really?”
Chenle rolls his eyes at him fondly. “Don’t be fucking stupid, baby. Who else am I going to ask?”
It’s an automatic yes. Chenle knows it – has known it for a while – but Donghyuck gives it to him in any case by surging forward to kiss him again. Pepper his entire face in kisses and yes’es.
Then, Jaemin asks Donghyuck a few days later when Chenle has returned to Shanghai, in his own way – he drives Donghyuck out to a random fitting at Armani, he demanded for Donghyuck to accompany him.
In the middle of wearing a fitted suit, his shoulders broad in the navy velvet blazer, crisp, white shirt unbuttoned down midway to elongate his sleek neck, Jaemin spares Donghyuck a glance-over in the plush armchair and says, “You’re coming to the wedding as my plus one, right?”
Donghyuck pauses, lips pressed to the rim of the champagne glass. He puts it down on the tray atop the mahogany table and raises an eyebrow at Jaemin. “Is this you asking me?”
“Is that a yes?”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes and picks up the glass by its stem, continuing on to take a sip of the bubbly champagne. “Chenle beat you to it.”
Jaemin steps off the platform, heeled loafers clicking against the marbled floor, and comes to a stillstop right in front of Donghyuck. The most irritating thing about Jaemin is that he’s handsome. Stunning. It’s even more pronounced in the suit of confidence he wears, the lines of his body accentuated by how well tailored the Armani suit is. If it wasn’t for a staff standing by the door, Donghyuck would’ve done something worse with his hands surely.
He leans forward till he’s eye to eye with Donghyuck, lets his gaze cascade over Donghyuck. Slow and tedious. Donghyuck fidgets in his seat. The heat sizzles in his gut. Then, Jaemin cages him in with his hands on either side of the armchair, his cool, minty breath ghosting over Donghyuck’s upper lip.
“Is that a yes, sweetheart?”
The glass sets down on the table again and Jaemin is tugged forward by the collar. A corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitches, but the smirk is swiftly gone, ruined by Donghyuck’s mouth on his.
His answer is always yes.