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Black Currant Berry

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“Will you listen to me next time?” Chan asks in a voice that waivers. One syllable, forced confidence and the next, exhaustion.

Felix isn’t granted the opportunity to respond. His nose touches against soft curls that smell of musky sweat dampened skin. The muscles in his throat work around Chan’s cock, having taken in all of him without hesitation.

The façade of confidence is dropped suddenly, as if Chan remembers it’s just the two of them, and emotion floods into his voice. “Please trust me.” Chan’s fingers grip the base of his own cock, making Felix pull back.  Chan’s cock slides out of Felix’s mouth inch by inch, and the motion makes Felix’s throat constrict around Chan. Makes Felix gag in the absence of having anything inside. Felix looks up at him, and if it were anyone else looking down at him like this, it’d be predatory. But’s Chan, and so it’s warm, and it’s electric. He feels like he can do anything right now, even if anything is just sucking cock.

Felix can feel the sticky thin strand of saliva which connects his mouth to Chan’s cock. He can feel the smile in his eyes, and it makes his heart beat just a little bit faster.

“Chan-“ Blind acceptance is what Chan’s asking for, but it isn’t what he needs to hear. For as much as Chan might have five alternative plans for every one that he can dream of, it’s difficult. “I’ll listen now.” It’s the best that Felix can offer. His gaze makes a journey which has no true end. His eyes drift down to the floor submissive and apologetic, back up to Chan again defiant and unyielding.

When Felix looks up at Chan now, his jaw is set firm and his expression burns on contact. The line between commander and friend is blurred once again.  

“You broke protocol. Chan’s tongue darts out of his mouth parting the thin line of his lips. In the silence, Felix’s cock twitches against the thick cloth of his pants.  

“You know what we,” and he emphasizes that word. We. Because Chan leads from the front line.  “Were up against.” The drop off point was on the top of one of the tallest buildings in Seoul. They emerged from up over the railing of the building, and they were trapped. Had no choice but to take them out. Protocol said that given his position, he should’ve taken off as soon as he got his hands on the asset. Right, but his heart told him there was no way he was leaving without Minho. “You would’ve done the same thing,” of this there is no question. “You’re upset that I beat you to him.” Felix cleared everything, allowing the team to escape. Team above self. Chan’s taught him a lot, but he’s learned that best.

It’s not about disobeying orders. Felix doesn’t enjoy that. It’s not about glory. He sits at Chan’s right hand. For both of them, the tension lies within the interruption of Chan’s intense anxiety and self-destructive tendencies, which masquerades as thinly veiled heroism.

The roots of his hair sting as Chan pulls him backwards. Shoves his cock back inside of his mouth and makes him suck. With that action, Felix does his very best to make the cinderblock walls crumble around them. Swipes his tongue across the ridge and presses against the tip of Chan’s cock with the tip of his tongue. Bobs on him greedily, making obscene noises that drift upward into the air ducts, and undoubtedly seep into Jisung’s room. It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before Jisung and Minho’s cries seep through the walls and repay them in kind.

Chan’s fingers tremble in his hair, and it’s only a matter of seconds now, not minutes. He could count it down, but the disjointed way that Chan tousles his hair is interrupted by Chan pulling his cock out once again.

“Let me protect you.” Hands fist at Felix’s hair again, pull him upward and push him backward toward the bed. 

There cannot be more than four or five steps between where they stand and the cot in the corner. In that space and in that time so much is said between them, not in words but in their bodies. Chan’s clothes and his skin smell of the field: smog and motor oil. In an instant, he knows Chan’s extraction point, the chop shop back behind the abandoned shopping center. Lips bump tentatively against lips, as if Chan refuses to give all of himself at once, which is stupid. Chan does nothing but give all of himself always. Then, Chan tilts Felix’s chin forward, and demands more in an instant.

Felix responds with a shaky voice that doesn’t sound like his own. The bite and the courage are torn away from him by Chan, “let me help you.” In that moment of weakness…Chan, or Changbin, or anyone else would call it intimacy, but he knows what it really is. Weakness.  He allows Chan to move him about as if he were the fragile thing that Chan imagines all of them to be. His clothes are stripped away, and somewhere in the fray he remembers to tug off Chan’s clothes too. 

“If something happened to you,” Chan smiles down at him, and it reminds him of back before. When all they did was go to school and sit cross legged in a circle, three, or four, or more of them and decide whose house they could fool around at without getting caught.

Chan’s fingers ghost across his skin, touching lightly, but never lingering long on the purple red bruises Changbin left on his skin days ago. They must look sallow now, as time makes all wounds uglier before healing them completely. Each touch sends twin shivers down his spine and his cock. The ember of Chan’s gaze is stoked by what can only be described as a strange combination of envy and pride. Envy that Felix can see Changbin and he can’t, and pride that they can be together now. Pride that this: Chan, Changbin, and Felix, cannot be taken from them. It’s just reworked, reshaped, and reborn.

“If anything happened to you,” Chan repeats. “I couldn’t read the love note he left me.”

Felix rocks his body upward, capturing Chan’s mouth with his own once more, and throws a litany of smack-bite-kisses against him. When the reaction he receives is too controlled, too calculated, Felix ratchets up the intensity. Wraps his legs around Chan’s middle and does his best to rub their cocks together in a friction that teases, and teases, and does not relent.

Yet, Chan refuses to be swept away. Instead, Chan allows him to come at him full force, and then evens him out once again with his body. It’s an equal part frustrating and amazing.

Of course, he wishes Changbin were here too, cause he’d be able to get him riled up and needy in no time.  Chan would have a hell of a time keeping anything under control.

“Settle down.” Chan fiddles with a thin silver key kept in the lock of a box he keeps on the end table near his bed. From the box Chan extracts a translucent tube that is three quarters of the way filled with fluid and topped with a red flip cap.  “I got you a gift.”

“Black Currant Berry?” In the dim lighting of Chan’s room, he can make out a label. Can’t remember the last time he had real berries. Knows for sure he’s never had a black currant.

“Others live very charmed lives,” Chan notes dryly. Opens his mouth as if he wants to talk more on the topic, but Felix does not allow it.

 Instead, he plucks the bottle from Chan’s hand, leverages his body upward and pushes Chan backward onto the bed. Their feet kick at the pillows for leverage that isn’t there.

“Felix-“

Because he’s already rubbing the sickly-sweet lubricant up and down Chan’s cock.

“Felix-“

Because in a blink of an eye he’s breaching himself with one finger, and then the next.

“Felix-“ 

Because he knows he’s got his eyes screwed shut tight right now. Biting the inside of his cheek to hold back the litany of curses that bubble on his tongue, it hurts more than he thought it would. He supposes it’s been awhile. Felix silently begs his body to yield to him, so he can yield to Chan

Chan doesn’t push him back over onto the bed as he expects. Instead, the thin mattress shifts beneath his knees as Chan sits upright, making Felix sit upright too. A hand encircles his wrists and draw his fingers out. More of the syrupy scent of black currant berry fills the room as Chan circles his hole.

Chan does that thing where he nibbles his ear lobe, and kisses down his neck, leaving marks the whole way down over top of Changbin’s old ones. It’s like way back then, underneath the Eucalyptus tree in the school yard back when it was just the two of them. Except now, getting caught fooling around by a teacher is the least of their worries. When he’s relaxed, and when he’s rutting against Chan’s cock, it’s easy to take one finger, and then two.

Then, as suddenly as Chan wrestled control back from him, he returns it. It’s why he’s a good commander. It’s why he’s not truly upset about Felix breaking protocol. It’s why when Chan drops back onto mattress, Felix straddles him without hesitation and sinks down on him, and surrenders himself wholly to the perfect sting-burn-gasp of friction.

Felix doesn’t hide the smirk on his face when he watches Chan’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Yeah. He did that. Saved the mission. Fucks their leader so he stays sane. And to think, he almost didn’t make it when they all decided to resist. Got shot in the chest, and has a big ugly scar.

 Chan meets him thrust for thrust, rolling his hips and hitting the right spot every time. For a split second the world is reduced to the heat just above the base of his cock, and the place where he’s joined with Chan. The ugly sound of skin slapping against skin and the bedframe scraping against the floor becomes hypnotic, if not beautiful.

Chan’s hand glides over his cock up and down.  Too soon. Chan’s thumb circles the tip. Too soon.  The feeling of thunder meets lightening meets warmth. The feeling of cumming into Chan’s hand is accompanied by the twitch-pulse-sigh of Chan cumming inside of him.

When Felix opens his eyes again, he’s greeted with the sight of Chan boneless and breathless against the mattress. His entire body hums with the warmth between them. His smile is so wide that his cheekbones encroach upon his eyes, and make them look smaller than they really are.

That’s intimacy. Not weakness.

After they clean up, Chan bends over his hotplate and cooks for them both. Pushes around meek vegetables with the questionable meat substitute that is easy to come by. Chan tops it with what smells like peanut sauce cobbled together from together from one of his more resourceful, if not uncharacteristically selfish hauls. Together, they sit at the low table on the floor, and reuse the same stained disposable chopsticks Chan’s had for far too long.

“You should take it with you,” Chan gestures to the bottle on the nightstand.

Felix is dressed, ready to go but never ready to leave.

“I couldn’t-“because it must’ve cost a fortune. God only knows what Chan sacrificed, and maneuvered to get it. But he reaches for the bottle, in direct contradiction to his words.

“No,” Chan presses his mouth over Felix’s. “You have to. It’ll get Changbin so worked up. I’m imagining it now.” Chan shifts his voice deeper, mocking Felix’s voice. “Changbinie, do you want me to fuck you?”

And, so Felix adopts the role of Changbin. Pumps faux gruffness into his voice, “no…Maybe.” Then he pushes his ass against Chan’s crotch mimicking the strange, passive-aggressive way that only Changbin can be with them both. “No.”

In their laughter, a flurry of kisses and soft touches erupt. Simultaneously, they reach for more contact while trying not to escalate the contact between them. “Love you Felix.” Chan runs his fingers from the place where his hairline meets his neck up to the shell of his ear.  “Ah, not to ruin the moment, but-”

Felix knows what comes next.

Chan returns to the lock box where the lubricant was stored and then rejoins Felix at the doorframe. He hands him a small flash drive. Felix doesn’t have to decode the message to know that instructions for the next mission already.

 “We love you too.” Felix allows one more kiss between them before he allows the black of the corridor and the city outside to swallow him up, rip him away from Chan, and reel him back toward Changbin.


 

The blinking red light on the console is a persistent pulse alerting Changbin to the solution to a problem which has no name. The light pulses with the same tempo as the dull throb in his heart and the itch in his palm that begins every time he leaves. Tearing his gaze away from the second ward camera, he sees a familiar form appear on the west entrance camera. Just like that, the itch and the ache vanish.

Changbin enters the access code immediately, and behind him the metallic lurch-roll of the hydraulic clocks unlatching behind him is set into motion. Changbin removes his headset, and moves toward the door.

Felix moves within the shadows silent and unseen. When warm hands envelop his waist, Changbin’s instincts wipe out all reason. His first thought is reach for the stun gun fastened to his hip. The feeling lasts for less than a fraction of a second, because he can see the faint golden sheen of Felix’s golden hair, tinted green from the faint blue light of the monitors. In that moment, relief washes over him. Changbin buries his nose in Felix’s shoulder, and the familiar scent of copper and the caustic soap that they use is all that he knows. There’s something else there too. The comingled scent of cooking oil and food lingers on Felix’s clothes…He hasn’t forgotten how much Chan likes to cook, even if he hasn’t seen him in months. 

Like it or not, the scent tugs free memory, after memory, after memory, and it makes jealousy pulse through his veins. What he would give to be in that room filled with the scent of recycled air and thick oil with both of them.

But Felix doesn’t allow him a moment of rumination. Grabs either side of his face with icy cold fingers, seals his lips over his own, and parts his lips with his tongue. Playfully presses their tongues together to remind him how long he’s been gone, and then pulls back, “did you miss me?”

In the faint light of the surveillance room, Changbin can see a small cut just above Felix’s eyebrow. Knows he’ll expose more when he tugs away Felix’s clothes with hands that move so fast they hide the way that he trembles. He shouldn’t say anything. All that matters is that Felix came back.  

Changbin responds first with his body, moving the hands looped around Felix’s waist lower. Grabbing firm muscular flesh of his ass and kneading lightly. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Felix interrupts himself to kiss Changbin again. This time light and playful. “That it smells like cum in here.” Another kiss. This time, Felix kisses him as if he means to deepen the kiss, but instead he tugs his lower lip between his teeth and applying pressure until it stings.

Changbin whines in response but not in pain. It’s nothing but pure frustration that drags down his spine when Felix pulls back.

“I think you jerked off relentlessly while I was gone,” Felix accuses.

 The video feeds have been painfully slow the past few days, and so there’s a shred of truth to Felix’s accusation. But Felix, fresh off the high from a mission, and giddy from the scent of surface air doesn’t give him the chance to argue.

Felix grabs him by the collar of his shirt, and pulls him upward forcing their mouths back together. Furious is the way that Felix handles his body, confidence gained through experience and the distinct possibility that next time may never happen.  Hands interrupt fever pitched kisses as Felix snakes a hand up underneath his shirt. Cold hands meet warm skin, and Changbin shivers in response.

It all feels so good, he shouldn’t say anything to ruin the moment.

Changbin gives as good as he gets. After all, they’re working on borrowed time, and when the interest is unpayable it’s better to make sure that every wager is high stakes. He threads his fingers through Felix’s hair and tugs backwards. He takes a fleeting second to admire the way the tendons in his neck press and tremble against skin. Changbin identifies where the soft purple marks are on Felix’s body so he can take Chan’s work and make it his own. Then, then he buries his face into Felix’s neck and doesn’t relent with lips, or teeth, or tongue.

Felix backs him up into the console and jams his leg between Changbin’s thighs. Changbin reacts immediately and without inhibition, rocking into him because contact is contact, even if it’s between two layers of clothing.

“Felix,” he really shouldn’t bring it up, but old habits die hard. Even though it’s Felix out there now, it was Changbin out there with Chan before. He knows what it’s like. “I saw you on the monitor. You broke-”

“Changbin don’t,” Felix’s voice falls and his body droops against Changbin’s frame, and now it’s Felix’s turn to bury his face in the crook of Changbin’s neck. “Chan already gave me hell for it.”

“Good.” Changbin has a lot more to say, but there’s no words that he can find that would be softer or more sincere than what Chan’s already said. So, he’ll say it with his body instead. Felix’s belt buckle is undone with a clink-pop.  Fabric rustles as Changbin pushes the waistband of Felix’s underwear down, freeing his cock.  He jerks Felix’s cock quickly, unafraid to express his emotion when it’s given in the form of searing touches.

He loves how velvety smooth it feels to work Felix’s cock like this, loves how he becomes hypnotized by the sight of the head of Felix’s cock disappearing and reappearing beneath his foreskin. Each drag of Changbin’s hand reveals a growing pool of precum at the tip. Together they fall into a rhythm with Felix gasping against his shoulder on the up stroke. On the downstroke, Felix puffs hot air against his shoulder, heavy and stifling against his skin.

“Hey,” and in an instant the knock-kneed, needy Felix is gone. Returned is the itch Changbin cannot scratch between his shoulder blades. Returned is the repeat offender who steals blankets in the middle of the night, and takes up the lion’s share of the bed. Felix is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the worst news he’s ever gotten.

Felix presses his sweat damped forehead against Changbin’s. The dark of the room and the artificial light of the screens are flushed out by the warmth of Felix’s face. Dark eyes and sun kisses make the whole room brighter. Fingers fitfully try for Changbin’s belt, and when actions fail, Felix speaks. “I got you something.”

Felix pulls back. From his jacket pocket, extracts a small bottle with a red plastic flip cap. Shoves it immediately into Changbin’s hands.

“No way.”

“Way.”

Changbin’s fingers are wrapped around a half empty bottle of lubricant. “Black Currant Berry” is written across the half peeled label in bland black lettering. Lubricant. Real lubricant, and not their failed attempts using soap and cooking oil when their ancient container of Vaseline was scraped dry.

Changbin tries so hard to banish the how and the why of how Felix got his hands on it, but he knows that Chan manages things. He procures things. And he distributes things. Chan wanted them to have it and expected nothing from them in return.

“Hey,” Felix’s low husky voice drags him back to the here and the now. Makes him remember that selectivity of how and why is a luxury they just aren’t allowed. “Turn around.” Felix rolls his hips against Changbin’s rutting their cocks together. Changbin sees stars over the omnipresent line after line of code that he sees when he closes his eyes.

Changbin cannot even muster words of faux protest in response. Obeying Felix now is to respond to him in earnest. Changbin turns on his heel, and the twin click-thunk sound of his belt buckle being undone and slapping against the console is like music. He shoves his pants down, spreads his legs wide, and braces himself against the counter. “I wanna do you next though.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix hums against the crook of his neck. Cool liquid spills down the cleft of Changbin’s ass. In sharp contrast red hot embarrassment rises from his collar bones and creeps upward from his neck to his cheek bones. It’s been awhile.

But Felix presses on, pads of his fingers against his rim. Felix touches him between the legs, but the shiver starts at the place where his hairline meets the gooseflesh pricked skin of his neck. “But you want this right now don’t you?” Felix goads him on to an argument that has neither true conflict, or resolution.

“Ye-ah,” Changbin is breached at the same moment he chooses to respond. Felix’s touch burns, but in the very best kind of way. The pain holds promise of something better, something brighter, and something amazing. “You’re insufferable.”

Felix laughs, thick and dark against his ear, “yeah,” before sliding another finger inside of him.

Changbin doesn’t even know what a black currant is supposed to smell like, but the scent of the lubricant will be forever branded onto the place where his nose meets his skull. The sticky sweet smell will forever remind him of Felix, and by proxy, of course Chan.

Felix’s fingers disappear as soon as Changbin’s body relaxes, and he’s grateful, so grateful that he doesn’t have to explain. Felix just understands that his fingers aren’t long and spindly like Chan’s, can’t hit the right spot inside of him. So, he doesn’t tease. “So insufferable,” be breathes as Felix slaps his ass and slips inside.

Fuck.

 Felix enacts his dangerous, fluidlike movements upon Changbin’s body by splaying a palm across his shoulders.  Changbin is bent further over the counter by Felix who pushes into him hard.

Felix can have his way, but Changbin will not be passive. He reaches behind his head and threads his fingers into Felix’ hair pulling him into what could be their tenth or their hundredth bruising kiss since Felix came home. Doesn’t matter because it’s never enough. Ever.

“Changbin,” Felix croons into his ear. “Changbin, you feel so good.”

Changbin rocks into each touch, and every roll of Felix’s hips. Once they come together, he becomes uninhibited. There’s no need to hide once you’ve revealed everything.

“And you’re so pretty.”

“And you,” Chanbgin readjusts his grasp upon the console, and rolls his hips for good measure. “Are about to cum.” Felix is always much nicer to him when he can’t control the inevitable.

“Yeah,” Felix admits. It’s over for Felix in a matter of seconds, and pulls out too soon. Cum drips down Changbin’s legs and becomes tacky against his skin, but the feeling is easy to ignore when Felix works his fist around Changbin's cock.

“Typical,” Changbin hisses as he cums into Felix’ hand.

After they clean up, Changbin returns to the console. Pulls Felix into his lap, and just listens to the hum and the pings of the machines around him.

Felix inserts a flash drive into the console, and his heart sinks. Can’t bring himself to look over Felix’s shoulder at the glowing green text.

“Changbin.”

For a moment, all he does is listen to the sound of Felix breathing. Feel his back rise and fall against his cheek. It’s too soon. It’s too soon, and if he spends one more day down here alone he’s going to lose it.

“Changbin!” More insistent this time, he obeys. Opens his eyes slowly, and looks at a cluster of characters on the screen, but the system is still working to decode the rest. “Look!”

Slowly, encrypted data is translated on screen. He could wait for each character to be revealed with baited breath, but it’s too painful. So, he rubs his nose into the threadbare cotton of Felix’s shirt. Felix reads out loud to him and real time. “Agent L, that’s me, and Agent B, that’s Chan,” like every brief doesn’t begin this way. “Will lead an extraction at the FKI tower. The asset in question,” Felix pauses and pinches his knee, forcing him to pay attention. “Is highly specialized encrypted data, which will require the assistance of Agent S. That’s you Changbin!”

“Wait,” Changbin reads the message, but it still doesn’t feel real. “Really?”

Felix gets up from the chair, spins Changbin around and sits in his lap so that they face one another. Felix’s cold nose is pressed against his, but their comingled breath is warm. “Yes really. I told him we needed to do it soon.”

“So we’ll do the mission together?”

“Yeah, and after the drop point, we’ll go back to Chan’s apartment and make so much noise Jisung and Minho pound on the wall,” Felix laughs.

“Pound on the door,” Changbin responds. “And ask to join.”

For a moment, it goes silent between them. Changbin imagines the code he’s going to write on the inside of his eyelids. Then, he imagines the smell of black currant berry in tandem with the feeling of Chan’s hands. “Felix,” Changbin lifts up the hem of Felix’s shirt touching whatever swaths of skin he can find. “I love you.”

Felix laughs into his ear, “we love you too.”