Park Chanyeol is whipped, and the instrument of his torture is only a half centimeter shorter than him, armed with an insatiable thirst for designer clothes and the distinct talent for getting exactly what he wants.
“Daddy,” Sehun says. “Please?”
“Ah,” Chanyeol says, even though he’s paying for it, even though he’s the one that wrote the rules to start with. “I don’t know.”
Sehun is demanding, needy even, and Chanyeol doesn’t know how to say no, not to that face, not to the way he pouts his lips when he wants a new watch or his dick sucked.
“It’s been so long since I’ve gotten a present,” Sehun needles. “Haven’t I been good?”
He crosses the room, silver iPhone X in hand, and he straddles Chanyeol, all long legs and effortless seduction. It won’t be long, Chanyeol figures, until he is face down and getting fucked within an inch of his life. Shit always starts this way: Sehun asks, and Chanyeol tries, fruitlessly, to bargain.
“So good,” Chanyeol says, hands delicate on Sehun’s hips as he twists in Chanyeol’s lap. “The best.”
His mouth is against Chanyeol’s, not quite a kiss but not quite not, either.
“You think I deserve a reward?” Sehun breathes.
“Always,” Chanyeol says, and they take air from each other before giving it back.
“You wanna see what I want?” he whispers, lips wet against Chanyeol’s.
“Y-yeah,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun backs off, shoves his phone into Chanyeol’s face. What stares back at him is unsurprising: interlocking rose gold rings bearing the Gucci logo.
“Aren’t they pretty?” Sehun asks.
Chanyeol makes a noise of assent, and Sehun wriggles happily.
“Do they make them in men’s?” Chanyeol asks.
“Like you’ve ever had a problem dressing me in women’s stuff before,” Sehun says. “Speaking of…”
Chanyeol follows the movement of Sehun’s free hand, pulling at the waistband of his pants. All Chanyeol can make out is skin hidden by shadow and lace and peach.
“Fuck,” Chanyeol says.
“It’s one of the La Perlas,” Sehun says, and he couples it with a grind into Chanyeol’s lap.
“You must really want those rings,” Chanyeol moans.
“And your ass,” Sehun says. “If you’ll let me have it.”
Chanyeol’s mind wanders. Sehun’s hips, the sound of their skin, Chanyeol’s fingers gripping the bed sheets like a lifeline. The panties shoved into his mouth just to keep him quiet.
“You thinking about it?” Sehun asks.
He should stop this now, now before it’s too late.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says.
“Tell me then,” Sehun says, smiling. “Can I have it, Daddy?”
Chanyeol’s horror and awe swirls together, chocolate and caramel or something just as sweet. Sehun pulls the collar of his shirt to one side with one hand, hitting add to cart with the other. Chanyeol watches, can’t do anything but watch. Sehun’s got Chanyeol’s credit card, he’s got Chanyeol’s debit card, and undoubtedly, he’s got Chanyeol’s undivided attention.
He pulls a peach colored strap at his shoulder, lets it snap against his skin, and moans brokenly, and fuck, Chanyeol is only human.
“Buy it,” Chanyeol whimpers.
Sehun taps the screen, shows Chanyeol the order confirmed, and then chucks his phone to the side. He pulls off his top and proves to Chanyeol once again that he’s worth every fucking penny: he’s wearing the black Agent Provocateur harness stretched over the comparatively virginal peach bralette, both skin tight and stunningly sexy.
“You want me to keep it on,” Sehun teases, pulling at the elastic again and letting it snap back against his skin, “or do you want me to take it off?”
“Whatever you want,” Chanyeol says.
And, if you were to look at Chanyeol’s bank statements, you’d see that Chanyeol obviously means whatever he wants. Oh Sehun is bleeding him dry, and Chanyeol has no idea what to do about it.
Because his money isn’t gonna last, not with the way Sehun knows how to spend it. And when the money goes, so does Sehun.
“Come on,” Sehun says, taking Chanyeol by the hand and leading him back to the bedroom. “Let me make you feel good, Daddy.”
It’s easy to put it out of his mind for the moment, mind, body, and soul occupied by the hard fuck from behind he gets while his Egyptian cotton sateen sheets are pooled around his knees, but later, once Sehun has gone back to his own apartment, Chanyeol grabs his phone and checks his bank account. Again. He does it compulsively now.
When it was just his high-rise, just his expensive taste, it was nothing. He was fine. But now he sponsors a shopping addiction and an education and a luxury-priced rent on the other side of the city too. And it’s too much. It’s way too much.
But he can’t let Sehun go. He just—he can’t.
What other option does he have, he wonders. Surely there’s some other way. He racks his brain, stays up until two in the morning poring over billing statements, trying to figure things out. He could move. He could get something way cheaper. He could sell all his shit, all his watches and rings. He could...God, what is he even saying? He couldn’t. He’s far too accustomed to it all.
Chanyeol’s anxiety wins out.
He reactivates his account and goes searching.
It all started as a joke, of course. Chanyeol has rich doctor friends, they get up to stupid shit when they’re drunk. That particular evening, Chanyeol signed up for Seeking as the rest of them cheered him on. Male, sugar daddy, male. He clicked through all the set-up, filling out the appropriate categories with the appropriate information. They shuffled through Chanyeol’s selfies, settled on the five most embarrassing, and called it a day.
What was he looking for? They all laughed, debated on what would be funniest. Romance, obviously. Long-term. Attentive. With benefits. Luxury lifestyle. Afterwards, they’d all gone home in taxis, stumbling with their liquor-stale breath, and it should have ended there. But Chanyeol started scrolling through the pictures on his homepage.
And then, when he found Sehun’s face, it didn’t feel quite like a joke anymore.
He made the mistake of clicking on Sehun’s profile, scrolling through picture after picture of him in designer clothes, casual and formal and everything in between. He was beautiful, of course, jet black hair and straight brows and small but full lips, looking modelesque in a private jet, champagne flute careless in his hand, a diamond-studded, platinum-faced Rolex just as careless on his wrist.
Fuck, Chanyeol was rich, but not private jet rich.
He couldn’t afford this one. Shame, Chanyeol thought. He was so pretty.
It was then that he heard a ping.
A little heart appeared by the messages tab, and Chanyeol’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw the osh98 sent you a message! alert.
hey, sexy, he said.
And Chanyeol was fucking wrecked, right from the start.
They weren’t so far apart in age that it was weird. Sehun was in his third year at university, studying business, and he was whip-smart which meant easy, flirty banter between the two of them. After a week or two of writing long, meandering messages back and forth on Seeking, Sehun suggested they move to texting, which was fine by Chanyeol, who preferred using iMessage anyway since he always had his phone on him.
Eventually, Chanyeol felt himself looking forward to Sehun’s texts and the coy little pictures he’d send throughout the day. Sehun was priming him, Chanyeol realized later. Getting him ready for the plunge into the relationship.
And it was Chanyeol, of course, who jumped, but only after Sehun brought him to the proverbial edge.
hey, baby, Chanyeol wrote. what are u up to
you cant call me baby, Sehun wrote back. only my daddy gets to call me that
Attached came a picture, Sehun’s lips and his chin and his throat, mouth open and head tilted to the side. There was a bruise on his neck. Chanyeol’s mouth watered.
i didnt know you had a daddy, Chanyeol said.
i don’t, Sehun wrote, but i could.
Chanyeol knew an invitation when he saw one, and he immediately knew what to do.
He sent a pin. He knew the owner of the restaurant, and if Sehun cared enough to research it, Chanyeol could guarantee he would be impressed by his ability to get them in. He could pull some strings, call in a few favors. It’d be well worth it.
wanna hash out the details over dinner, he wrote, never more nervous in his entire life.
see you there, Sehun wrote.
Not long after Chanyeol read the message, an audio file appeared, just one second long. Chanyeol hesitated, finger hovering over his screen, before tapping it.
“Daddy,” Sehun whispered, voice far deeper than Chanyeol imagined.
Chanyeol could get used to that.
“What do you do for a living?” Sehun asked, sipping from his glass of wine with a casual aloofness he wore like a fifty-thousand-dollar price tag.
“I’m an anesthesiologist,” Chanyeol said.
“Ooh, doctor,” Sehun said, interest piqued. He leaned forward, the line of his throat alluring in the dim light. “What’s that pull in?”
“A bit,” Chanyeol said, leaning forward his share. “Enough for two.”
“Mm,” Sehun said with a shy smile, cocking an eyebrow. “But I’m very expensive.”
“Well, I do have expensive taste,” Chanyeol said, licking his lips.
Sehun smiled and let his eyes run from Chanyeol’s eyes to his mouth, down his neck, down his chest.
“Don’t we all?” Sehun asked.
When their plates were set in front of them and their wine topped off, Chanyeol decided to stop fucking around and start speaking plainly.
“I’d like to make an arrangement with you,” Chanyeol said, grabbing his fork. “If that’s something you’d be interested in.”
“If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here,” Sehun said, and he placed his napkin in his lap gently.
“Really?” Chanyeol said. “Not just in it for the dinner?”
“Do you know how many times I get asked out to dinner a week?” Sehun asked. “How many daddies want to make arrangements with me?”
“Quite a few, I’d imagine,” Chanyeol said, and he looked Sehun up and down. Pictures don’t do him justice. Paintings wouldn’t either, though Chanyeol would like to see him in oil.
“I’ve been waiting,” Sehun said, “until I found someone I liked.”
Ribbons of heat unspool in Chanyeol’s chest, and they curl down into his stomach, delicious and electric.
“I’m glad I found you, then,” Chanyeol said.
“Me too,” Sehun said, smiling, before picking up his fork, stabbing at a scallop. “You want to talk logistics?”
“Uh,” Chanyeol said, “sure. I mean, if that’s good with you.”
“Wanna hear my demands?” Sehun smiled. “Mr. First Timer?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, “okay.”
Sehun swallowed his mouthful, and Chanyeol tracked the movement with his eyes. His throat was shadowed in the dim light.
“Open relationship,” Sehun said. “I can be with other people if I want, you can be with other people if you want.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol said.
“As for financial things...you pay my rent, you pay my tuition, you pay my phone bill, and I get a monthly allowance. Day-to-day things,” Sehun said. “And occasionally, I get presents.”
“Presents?” Chanyeol asked, muffled with a mouthful of steak, quickly swallowing to speak clearly. “What kind of presents?”
Sehun set his fork down, reached forward. He pushed his sleeve up, showing Chanyeol his wrist, where he was currently sporting a white gold tennis bracelet, diamonds almost comically massive on a chain of its size. Altogether, they must have weighed, Jesus Christ, at least four or five carats.
“Just a little something,” Sehun said. “Stuff like this for when I’m really good. Or holidays and birthdays.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “Of course.”
Sehun smiled, ruffled a diamond-decked hand through his hair.
“Now you,” Sehun said. “What do you want from me?”
Chanyeol swallowed over a lump in his throat.
“Companionship,” Chanyeol admitted.
“That’s a good start,” Sehun said. “What else?”
“Your availability,” Chanyeol said. “I mean, I know you probably have a busy schedule, but when you can make it, and I call…”
“Whenever you need me,” Sehun said, like he knew how this went. “What else?”
How far does this go?, Chanyeol had thought. They’d been skirting around it, talking delicately, but Sehun had been so kittenish, so playful.
“As far as our physical relationship...,” Chanyeol said, folding his hands.
“As much or as little as my daddy wants,” Sehun said simply. “It’s all on the table.”
Chanyeol’s mind swirled with the possibilities.
“So if I wanted—”
“Then you’d have it,” Sehun said. “Within reason. I have a list.”
He opened his jacket, reached into his breast pocket, and withdrew what looked like a business card, but when it was slid across the tabletop, Chanyeol saw that the list was handwritten, neat and concise.
No’s, it was titled, and the items followed in dashes. Cutting. Blood. Scat. Bestiality. Necrophilia. Hard torture. Incest play. Kidnapping. Rape/non-consensual play.
“Oh,” Chanyeol said. “Oh, well...yeah, also no for me.”
“That’s good. Also,” Sehun said, “I have ultimate veto power, and I can say no whenever I want, no matter when. Before or during.”
“Yes,” Chanyeol said, brows furrowing. “Yes, of course.”
“And, okay, since we’re going full steam ahead, I would require regular STD screenings for both of us,” Sehun said. “And we always wear protection with other people.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Chanyeol said, not willing to admit how long it had been for him, how unlikely it would be for him to find another person to sleep with.
“As long as we’re on the same page,” Sehun said, “then we have a deal.”
He reached across the table top, tennis bracelet nearly blinding Chanyeol.
Chanyeol took Sehun’s hand in his and shook it carefully.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Sehun said, the most beautiful smile on his lips. “This is going to be fun.”
It’s quite a different experience, Chanyeol realizes, signing up as a baby. For one, there’s a way to sort through daddies based on their net worth. Might as well, Chanyeol thinks, reaching for the stars from the very beginning. And good Lord, there are some really ugly users on this platform, he thinks.
He spends too long scrolling, sifting through all of the old men with cheesy bios, with their leering eyes. He gets a dozen messages, lots of hey sexys that feel a lot less interesting when they aren’t coming from someone as handsome as Sehun, so he ignores them all.
It is exactly 2:32 in the morning when he finds his first acceptable match, a handsome, dark-haired man called 01suho, and it is exactly 2:33 when he messages him for the first time.
That first night, Chanyeol drove them back to his apartment: recently cleaned, fully stocked.
“Not bad,” Sehun said appreciatively. “I guess you weren’t lying.”
He wandered barefoot through Chanyeol’s world, stopped before Chanyeol’s bookcase, fingers dancing along the spines of the medical textbooks resting there.
“This could be fun,” Sehun said, eyes scanning the shelf. “You have medical tools?”
“I do,” Chanyeol said.
Sehun looked back over one shoulder, smiling cheerfully as he crossed back over towards Chanyeol.
“Wanna be my doctor, Daddy?” Sehun asked, walking slow, twisting his hips, attracting Chanyeol’s eye.
“Maybe,” Chanyeol said. “If that’s something you’d like.”
Sehun stopped in front of Chanyeol and took Chanyeol’s hands in his, laced their fingers together.
“It’s about what you like,” Sehun said. “This is the way I get to show my appreciation.”
“Besides being adorable?” Chanyeol asked.
“Well, yes,” Sehun smiled. “Besides that.”
“So I just have to tell you what I like?” Chanyeol asked.
Sehun pulled Chanyeol’s hands to his hips before winding his arms around Chanyeol’s neck.
“Yes,” Sehun said, leaning in. “What do you like?”
“I like kissing cute boys like you,” Chanyeol said.
“That’s good,” Sehun said. “I like kissing cute boys like you.”
“Lucky,” Chanyeol said as Sehun moved in close.
“Yeah,” Sehun said, closing his eyes as Chanyeol closed his. “Lucky.”
They signed on the dotted line, a kiss that felt like indulgence and tasted like money.
Chanyeol labors for a whole minute over what to say, his brain rapid-firing awful ideas at him until he finally just types hi and presses enter.
He keeps his eyes open for as long as he possibly can, but he ends up passing out, laptop open next to him, message unanswered.
“Show me the bedroom,” Sehun said against Chanyeol’s mouth.
Chanyeol didn’t respond with words, only movements, doing as he was told, holding Sehun’s hand as he walked through the apartment back to his room.
Chanyeol looked around, tried to change his point of view to put himself in Sehun’s shoes, observing his things as if for the first time: it was minimalist, dark blue and black and white. Chanyeol wasn’t there terribly often, usually busy with work, so it lacked much of a personal touch, save for the guitar and the keyboard next to his computer.
“Mm,” Sehun said, appreciative. “Pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you,” Chanyeol said, and he took Sehun in his arms, basking in his warmth.
“Kiss my neck,” Sehun said, and when Chanyeol did, hands spread across Sehun’s stomach, he was rewarded with a quiet moan. “Mm, you’re good at this.”
“What?” Chanyeol mumbled.
“Being a daddy,” Sehun said. “You’re gonna treat me well, I just know it.”
Yes, I am, Chanyeol thought, so please don’t take advantage.
It’s a rare day off, and he indulges in it. He doesn’t check his phone until he’s out of bed and showered, waiting for his Keurig to bring him to life.
He’s got an unread message from Sehun, who frequently shoots him texts when he wakes. morning, daddy, it reads, and attached is a picture of Sehun’s thighs, black boxer briefs stretched tight over the lean muscle. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and Chanyeol quickly types his response: holy fuck, baby.
Chanyeol orders breakfast through UberEats, eggs benedict and french toast from a place around the block, and texts from Sehun keep him busy while he waits. wanna taste?, he writes. because i really want my ass eaten, he follows up, and after the follow-up comes a picture of Sehun pouting, laying in bed, black hair fluffy from sleep. Before Chanyeol can respond, he gets an ass shot, artfully lit and perfectly framed the way they always are. And god, Chanyeol would like to taste.
shouldn’t you be in class, Chanyeol writes.
no one likes a nag, Sehun writes back.
Chanyeol smiles, and as he pays for his food, his stomach sinks.
Chanyeol really, really doesn’t want to get rid of him. He...he likes Sehun so much that sometimes, he forgets he’s paying for it.
He eats breakfast while watching the news, and then, when he heads back to his bedroom, he spots his laptop. Fuck, he thinks, fuck.
No matter how bad things get, no matter how fucked up his finances are, he should stay far away from Seeking. In fact, he’s gonna deactivate his account once again. It was a moment of weakness. That’s all.
He flips his laptop back open, refreshes the page, and immediately sees the response he’s gotten from 01suho, a little green light next to his username:
Hi there, he says. Aren’t you the pretty one?
Chanyeol’s stomach twists in the best way, and he bites his lip.
Well, he reasons, it won’t hurt just to talk to him.
you’re the pretty one, Chanyeol writes back. what should i call you
Daddy, he writes back, and oh, that was much easier than Chanyeol thought.
Sehun laid back in Chanyeol’s bed, legs spread wide, looking like a fuckin’ wet dream.
“I, uh, I hope you...well, maybe I should have opened with this,” Chanyeol said, hand brushing against Sehun’s calf, “but I prefer—”
“Topping,” Sehun finished for him, smiling. “That’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“Uh, no,” Chanyeol said. “I like bottoming.”
Sehun’s eyes flashed, and warmth spread across Chanyeol’s skin as Sehun looked him over.
“Oh yeah?” Sehun asked, sitting up. “Can’t say I expected that one.”
Chanyeol smiled uncomfortably, looking down, as Sehun flexed his core, sitting up slowly, moving through syrup.
“You want me to take care of you, Daddy?” Sehun asked. “You want to get fucked?”
Sehun reached between Chanyeol’s legs, rubbed at Chanyeol’s cock before lowering his hand. Down, down.
“Y-yes,” Chanyeol moaned. “Please.”
“Daddy,” Sehun said, so, so pleased. “You’re gonna spoil me.”
It shocked a laugh out of Chanyeol’s chest, Sehun running his hands all over Chanyeol’s body, something appreciative in the touch.
“You’re gonna spoil me,” Chanyeol said, looking at what Sehun had tucked away in his boxer briefs. He clenched a little at the thought.
“Yeah?” Sehun smiled, looking down at himself. “You like that?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, thought God help me, I do.
“I’m gonna give it to you so good,” Sehun promised, dragging them both down flat on the bed before tipping Chanyeol over and onto his back. “How many times should I make you come on my cock, Daddy?”
“Uh,” Chanyeol said, still trying to shake himself out of the shyness. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s start with two,” Sehun said, trailing light fingers down Chanyeol’s throat, making him arch his back with a moan. “And I’ll convince you to go for three if I have to.”
Chanyeol swallowed, already having to calm himself down a little at the thought.
“Does that sound good?” Sehun asked, and he put his lips against Chanyeol’s collarbone and started to suck a kiss there.
“Sounds great,” Chanyeol moaned.
Sehun sat up between Chanyeol’s legs and grabbed the lube, kissing his way down Chanyeol’s stomach before sucking a little kiss to the head of Chanyeol’s cock.
“Let me get you wet, then,” he said, smiling.
Suho is not his real name, Chanyeol finds out.
“It’s Junmyeon,” he says. “And you don’t have to call me Daddy if you don’t want.”
Interestingly enough, the thought of calling someone older, richer, and more powerful daddy puts a tendril of arousal in the base of his stomach, and it waves and curls in the hot air as Junmyeon speaks.
“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “Daddy.”
It earns him a pleased little huff.
Chanyeol crosses his legs at the ankles, huddles in his blankets, equally pleased himself.
“Are you in bed?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, suddenly conscious of the noise he’s probably making with all his covers. “Is that okay?”
Junmyeon laughs, a sharp little thing, and Chanyeol feels his core tense at the sound.
“Yes,” he says. “You can be wherever you want.”
“I just—I just didn’t want you to think…”
“Think what?” Junmyeon asks before lowering his voice. “That you’re trying to seduce me?”
“Y-yeah,” Chanyeol says.
“Well, aren’t you?” Junmyeon says coyly.
“Yes,” Chanyeol admits.
“Mm,” Junmyeon says. “Honest.”
“I try,” Chanyeol says.
There’s a pause that reads like a test. Chanyeol wonders if he should have said something different, if he should continue the line of dialogue, if he should ask Junmyeon a question. What’s your history? How much money do you really make? Could you pay my mortgage for the year? Do you like topping? Am I going to have the power here, the way Sehun has the power over me, even though he lets me pretend I have the power over him?
“What are you thinking about?” Chanyeol settles on.
“Should I be honest?” he asks. “Like you?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “Be honest.”
“Thinking about work,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol can practically see the crease between his brows. “It’s...it’s hard to forget sometimes.”
“I know,” Chanyeol says. “It’s like you want to leave things at the door because you’re desperate to relax, but somehow, your mind doesn’t get the memo.”
“That’s exactly right,” Junmyeon says happily. “Well said.”
Chanyeol sinks into the covers a little further, a smile on his face as the praise washes over him. Junmyeon has a nice voice too, silky and smooth, not too deep but not too high pitched either. Coupled with the pictures Chanyeol has seen, it would hardly be a chore, Chanyeol thinks, to fuck him or be fucked by him in exchange for large sums of money.
“I’d like to learn more about you, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, and God, there’s just something about someone saying your name.
“Okay,” Chanyeol says, turning onto his side, phone resting on his ear. “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me,” Junmyeon says, and it’s the same aloofness that Sehun wears, wrapped tight around his neck like an Hermes scarf.
“Um,” Chanyeol says. “I’m 28.”
“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “I thought you were younger.”
“I put my age on my profile, didn’t I?” Chanyeol says.
“You did,” Junmyeon says. “I just thought you lied. You look...you look younger than that.”
“No,” Chanyeol says.
“Too honest,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol can hear the grin.
“Too honest,” Chanyeol says.
“So what do you do?” Junmyeon says.
Too honest, Chanyeol thinks. What a load of shit.
“I’m...I work for an anesthesiologist,” Chanyeol says, just happening to leave out the relatively important detail that he is the anesthesiologist that he works for.
“Oh,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol can tell from the tone that he’s impressed, but confused. “That’s quite the career.”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, feeling happy with the white lie.
“You work in the city?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yep,” Chanyeol says, the stop echoing.
“What’s the doctor’s name? I have a bunch of doctor friends,” Junmyeon says. “Maybe I know them.”
Chanyeol’s stomach cramps, and fuck, he is so bad at lying. His body just can’t fuckin’ handle it.
“Uh, I am the doctor,” Chanyeol says.
A beat. A beat that sticks like glue. Chanyeol wants to shake it off, but it’s like glitter on his hands.
“You are the doctor,” Junmyeon says carefully.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says.
Another beat. Glue, all glue.
“Student loans?” Junmyeon says.
Chanyeol thanks God for someone smart enough to make up the lies for him.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon makes a noise, something like understanding.
“I went to Yale,” Junmyeon says. “I get it.”
Do you, Chanyeol wonders, because by the looks of the pictures Junmyeon’s sent, he’s never really had to work a day in his life.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies because he has nothing else to reply with.
“I should go soon,” Junmyeon says. “Have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Right,” Chanyeol says. “Same.”
“But I’ll give you a call soon,” Junmyeon says. “And maybe we can work something out.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol smiles. “I’d like that.”
“Are you free next week?” Junmyeon offers.
“I should be,” Chanyeol says.
“Text me,” Junmyeon says. “I’ll keep things open for you.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “Thanks for calling.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure, baby,” Junmyeon says, and his voice is silk draped over Chanyeol’s skin, gliding over him.
He puts his head under the covers, feeling seventeen and giddy again.
“Condom?” Sehun asked.
But Chanyeol had seen Sehun’s test results himself, Sehun surreptitiously faxing them to Chanyeol during the day. Thankfully, he had been in his office, not one of the assistants, and he grabbed the page and gave it a once over, biting his lip at a little heart hand-drawn on the paper, before shredding the printout.
“Not unless you want,” Chanyeol said.
“It’s been a while,” Sehun said, the tip of his cock against Chanyeol’s hole, rubbing through the lube, “since I’ve gotten the chance to fuck anyone.”
“O-oh yeah?” Chanyeol said, trying not to gasp at the feeling, but he’s sensitive and about to start shivering.
“Yeah,” Sehun said, eyes locked on where they touch. “And I think I want to come inside you.”
Chanyeol felt his whole body go up in flames, burning bright red.
“Yeah?” Chanyeol asked, squirming on the sheets.
“Yeah,” Sehun said. “Look at you, Daddy. So hot.”
Chanyeol tried to move, wiggle at the compliment, but Sehun’s hands on his hips kept him still.
“You like that, don’t you, Daddy?” Sehun smiled. “When I tell you how hot you are. How sexy you are. How I want to come inside you.”
“Fuck,” Chanyeol said. “Please.”
“Please what?” Sehun asked, withdrawing to fist a hand over his cock. Chanyeol licked his lips.
“Fuck me, baby,” Chanyeol said.
Sehun had Chanyeol in the palm of his hand, and when he pushed inside for the first time, Chanyeol felt Sehun’s fingers wrap around him, the air shoved out of him, Sehun sinking in and filling him up so well.
“Yes, Daddy,” Sehun said.
How about Friday?
Chanyeol stares at his phone, bites his lip. Friday. He’s working nine to nine on Friday.
what time, Chanyeol texts back.
He takes a sip of his coffee, and he sets his phone down. He’s been glued to it since the other night, occupied as always with Sehun but now with Junmyeon too. Chanyeol knows he should end it, just stop with both of them before shit gets real, but there’s something delicious about the illicitness of it all.
What time works for you, darling? comes the response, and Jesus Christ, Chanyeol has to get a fucking hold on himself, because something as simple as a term of endearment should not be affecting him so much, running a happy little spark down his spine.
He plays with his fingers for a minute, the caffeine still buzzing its way through him, before he types out his answer, no matter how it might sound: after nine, he wrote. dinner?
The response is instantaneous, not even enough time for Chanyeol to set his phone down for another sip of coffee.
I’ll send you the reservation details momentarily, Junmyeon writes. Wear something pretty, and you’ll get your first present.
Chanyeol takes a deep breath in, holds it in his chest for five, four, three, two, one before he expels the air harshly.
Sehun was tender in the soft moments after they’d finished, and he gingerly wiped the sweat away from Chanyeol’s face, the line along his brow, before huddling up beside him.
“We should shower,” Sehun said, placing a kiss to Chanyeol’s collarbone.
“The sheets are already fucked up beyond repair,” Chanyeol said sleepily. “Who cares?”
“Do you wanna leak all night?” Sehun asked. “All over your very expensive bed and very expensive sheets?”
He ran his fingers down Chanyeol’s body, and Chanyeol laughed before shuddering mightily, Sehun’s touch playing at his hole where he was sopping wet and sensitive. He tried to clench himself shut, but he was...God, he was so fucking loose.
“S-stop,” Chanyeol gritted out. “I get the point.”
“So shower with me,” Sehun said, hugging Chanyeol close in a comforting embrace. “I’ll wash your hair.”
Chanyeol knew now, first hand experience, what masterful work Sehun could do with his hands. A scalp massage sounded good. Sounded better than good, even.
“I do have a change of sheets in the closet,” Chanyeol said.
“Mm,” Sehun said. “Then do you wanna hear my plan?”
“Your master plan?” Chanyeol smiled.
“Yeah,” Sehun said, kissing his forehead. “Master plan.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol smiled again. “Tell me.”
“I’ll go get the shower running, let the water warm up. I’ll put you in there, you’ll be all nice and warm, and I’ll change the sheets for us. Then I’ll come help you get nice and clean. How’s that sound, Daddy?”
“Sounds—sounds perfect,” Chanyeol sighed.
Sehun smiled, patted Chanyeol on the butt.
“Be right back,” Sehun said before he jumped out of the bed with energy Chanyeol couldn’t even dream of in his current state, wrung out like a rag.
He couldn’t remember ever getting fucked so well. Sehun was like a machine, destroying him, ripping him down to atoms, making every fiber of him explode with a beautiful, overwhelming pleasure, so much that he nearly had to tap out just to get a lungful of air. But it was well worth it, in the end: Sehun had fucked his body and mind tired, and as he shut his eyes, he felt himself drifting off into sleep.
“Wake up,” Sehun said, shaking him an indeterminate amount of time later.
“No,” Chanyeol whined.
“Come on,” Sehun said. “Up you go.”
Chanyeol was hauled out of bed, and as his feet hit the ground, he felt his knees go weak, and he was forced to grab onto Sehun just so he wouldn’t collapse to the floor.
“Whoa,” Sehun said, steadying him. “You okay?”
“M—Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “My legs are tired.”
“Mm,” Sehun said, and he was an angel, must have been an angel, because he set Chanyeol down, pushed him back by the shoulders until he was laying back in bed once more. “Just a couple minutes, okay? The water’s on, and you don’t wanna run up your utilities.”
“Ah,” Chanyeol smiled. “It’d be worth it.”
Sehun scrunched his face up, a cute smile, before leaning down to dot a kiss to the tip of Chanyeol’s nose.
It’s harder than Chanyeol thought it would be. It’s in his stomach all the time now, but he can’t swallow it down, can’t cough it up. Guilt, arousal, and anxiety churn, tossing and turning and keeping him up.
“I can’t,” Chanyeol says, phone between his ear and his shoulder as he looks over some paperwork.
“No?” Sehun says, and Chanyeol knows him well enough to see the pout.
“No, I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says. “They’re keeping me later than I thought.”
“Ah,” Sehun says, and Chanyeol thinks there’s genuine disappointment there, something he didn’t have to buy. “I was gonna pick up sushi and sake for us.”
“Ah,” Chanyeol frowns, because as much as he wants to see Junmyeon and get things straightened out financially, sushi and sake and sucking dick sounds really fucking good right about now.
“Spring break,” Sehun says dreamily, “we should go to Kyoto.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says, putty in Sehun’s hand, unable to deny him anything.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Sehun says. “Have a good day, all right?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “You too, baby.”
“I’ll send you lots of stuff,” Sehun says. “To keep you busy.”
“Mm,” Chanyeol says. “Looking forward to it, honey.”
“Love you,” Sehun sings, and it gives Chanyeol chills just like it always does because fuck, Sehun feels more like a boyfriend than a baby every single fucking day, and he’s just agreed to meet someone else.
“Love you more,” Chanyeol says, and it feels like a big enough truth to wipe away all the lies.
Chanyeol thought that there would be a push and pull for dominance between them, but he had no idea how easy he’d go down: absolutely without a fight.
“Daddy,” Sehun whined, tapping the tip of his cock against Chanyeol’s lips. “Kiss, please?”
Chanyeol licked his lips, delighted by the way Sehun threw his head back and groaned as Chanyeol tongued along the head of his dick, obscene, only made more so with the camera of Sehun’s phone aimed directly at him.
Chanyeol made eye contact, looking dead into the lens before shutting his eyes tight, pushing his lips out, pressing wet, hot kisses to Sehun’s cock.
“Mm,” Sehun hummed, using a hand to run the head of his cock through the saliva before pushing into Chanyeol’s mouth, forcing him to open.
Chanyeol hummed in response, and Sehun thrust into it, Chanyeol choking a little on the length.
“You look pretty, Daddy,” Sehun said before running a hand through Chanyeol’s hair, pausing to run a finger along the shell of Chanyeol’s ear. He already knew just how to fuck Chanyeol up, get him lazy and pliant with arousal, willing to lay there and take whatever Sehun gave him. “Mm, so pretty.”
“Mm,” Chanyeol hummed, already sinking into it, ready to be used however Sehun wanted.
“I wanna fuck you, Daddy,” Sehun whispered. “Can I?”
Chanyeol blinked his eyes open, a little wet from tears, and he looked past the camera to look up at Sehun, shaking his head yes.
“Fuck,” Sehun grunted, tapping his phone and throwing it to the side. “I can’t wait to show you that.”
His fingertips practically burned with the need to see it and then immediately delete it, but the thought of looking so wanton, so slutty and desperate just for Sehun was heady, enough to make him dizzy.
“Come on,” Sehun said, rearranging their bodies until Chanyeol was spread out before him, legs thrown wide. “Can I eat you out before I dick you?”
Chanyeol’s inhale was sharp, shattering whatever silence was left, and he couldn’t moan his answer quickly enough.
Freshly showered and feeling appropriately clean, he walks through his closet: pretty, Junmyeon said. Did he have anything that fit that description? Sehun sometimes asks him to dress up, but that’s mostly costumes, things that he couldn’t wear to a public place unless he wanted to get arrested for public indecency.
Chanyeol runs his fingers over his dress shirts, white, blue, charcoal grey and forest green, before settling on black, grabbing one of the tighter ones, the one that fit his arms nicely. Black pants, the ones that hugged his thighs. He throws the garments on, rolls the sleeves on the shirt.
It’s too plain, too normal, he thinks. What’s pretty? What does he like seeing Sehun in?
He frowns, unfortunately knowing exactly what to do.
He walks over to his jewelry case, grabs the bag. In all honesty, he’d been saving it to give to Sehun as part of his present for their upcoming anniversary, but...wearing it once wouldn’t hurt, he figures.
Unclasping the buckle in the back, he fastens the gold-studded black leather choker around his neck before standing back and looking in the mirror. Definitely more interesting. He pairs it with an appropriately gaudy belt (the Gucci one with the gold snake buckle), and he’s well on his way to pretty.
After his hair is totally dry, he styles it up and out of his face carefully, the way Sehun likes best. Of course, he thinks Sehun might like it best this way because he gets off on wrecking it, hands in Chanyeol’s hair as he fucks Chanyeol’s mouth, but that part isn’t important.
He goes into his bathroom, grabs the YSL lip oil from the shelf, and he swipes it over his lips, rubbing them together until his mouth is red and wet-looking. He’s not great at makeup, but he smudges some Giorgio Armani liner at the corners of his eyes, dusts a little Fenty highlighter across his cheekbones and Cupid’s bow, and fuck, maybe this is why he likes when Sehun wears makeup so much: he looks good.
Chanyeol felt uncomfortable asking for anything, and that was putting it mildly.
After their second date, if you could call it a date, Chanyeol effectively ghosted. Didn’t call. Didn’t text. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was, and he didn’t know how to ask.
Work was work, same as always: challenging and stressful and strenuous. With the promise of Saturday off, he was ready to drink and smoke himself into a ditch on Friday night. Chanyeol walked into his apartment, set his bag down, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then checked his phone.
Five missed FaceTime calls. From a certain baby.
He sighed and uncapped his beer before pressing Sehun’s name: call.
“Well, well, well,” Sehun said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hi,” Chanyeol said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Sehun said.
“I should,” Chanyeol said. “We haven’t talked in a while.”
“Bills are paid,” Sehun said, “so we can talk as little or as much as you want. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Chanyeol took a long pull of his beer, let the glass thunk onto the counter.
“I’m just not sure,” Chanyeol said. “How this should all work, I mean.”
He heard movement on the other line, coupled with a sigh from Sehun.
“It’s okay,” Sehun said. “First timer. I get it.”
“It’s like,” Chanyeol said, “I’ve been so stressed out lately. All I wanna do when I get home is sit, drink, and smoke until I can’t see straight.”
“You smoke?” Sehun asked, and there was mischief in his voice.
“I do,” Chanyeol said.
“Shouldn’t doctors not smoke?” Sehun asked playfully.
“They shouldn’t,” Chanyeol said, swallowing. “Bad for you.”
“Right,” Sehun said. “Bad for you.”
There was a quiet moment, and Chanyeol took the opportunity to drain his beer to half full.
“I can always be of assistance, you know,” Sehun suggested, “if you need a stress reliever.”
Chanyeol held onto the neck of his beer bottle firm, the sweat dripping down his fingers. That was all he could think about, really. Sehun all over him. Inside him. All over him.
“I don’t want to bother you,” Chanyeol said. “I’m sure you’re busy. I’m sure you have shit to do.”
“Hey, none of that shit, okay? I’m an adult, I know when I’m free,” Sehun said. “And I’m here for you. As long as...you don’t regret doing this, do you?”
“No,” Chanyeol said. “God, no.”
“Are you sure?” Sehun asked. “Because if you aren’t into it, it’s fine.”
“I’m into it,” Chanyeol said. “God, I’m really into it. I’m sorry, it’s just...I’ve never done something like this before. I didn’t know what to say to you, you know?”
“Say whatever,” Sehun said casually, as if it was nothing. “Say nothing if you don’t want. I’ll come over and suck your dick and smoke with you.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol said. “You’d be into that?”
“Look, I know...I know you probably wanna establish some boundaries,” Sehun said. “And that’s good, that’s healthy. But you can ask, you know. You can always ask. You’ll never get in trouble for asking.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol said. “Okay. Come over tomorrow then. If you’re free, I mean.”
“I just finished finals for the semester. I’m super free,” Sehun said. “Should I bring a bag?”
Chanyeol’s mind ran wild.
“Yeah,” he said. “Bring a bag. Stay a while.”
Chanyeol could hear the smile.
“Okay,” Sehun said. “I think I will.”
He fidgets in the Uber on the way, legs bumping up and down to the beat of the trap song that the driver plays.
“Late night?” the guy says, making eye contact in the rear-view mirror before looking Chanyeol up and down.
“You could say that,” Chanyeol says.
Thankfully, the driver stays quiet for the rest of their ride, and Chanyeol can take the time to respond to some of Sehun’s texts. He scrolls through picture after picture: Sehun’s legs in pale pink water, a shot of his fingers playing at his collarbone, and a short video. Chanyeol turns the volume all the way down, watching as Sehun touches his neck, his stomach, his cock.
Chanyeol types out a stupid message that doesn’t begin to do the images justice—wish i was there, baby—before he locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket. Sehun won’t expect many responses, not if he’s working.
It’s a blessedly short ride, or at least it feels that way, with Chanyeol’s brain running overtime thinking of all the ways this shit could break bad. Still, the thread of excitement runs up and down his sides like seams, tight with tension.
When he walks into the restaurant, he looks around, trying to search for Junmyeon. The room looks traditionally Japanese, shoji separating them from the rest of the patrons. There’s a fountain by the door, the music of a biwa and bells coupled with the sound of falling waters, and jade sculptures sit on the desk where the hostess stands.
“Hi,” Chanyeol says. “Um, I’m meeting someone.”
“Mr. Kim?” the girl says, her slick, straight hair looking like liquid as it pours over her dress, silken and pink.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says.
She smiles charmingly, her arm gesturing to the side.
“Right this way, Mr. Park,” she says, and she leads him back, back through the restaurant, past everyone in the Western dining room and then further back, past everyone else.
She takes him back into the hallway, rooms with sliding paper doors, before stopping in front of the smallest.
“This is our Fuji room,” she tells him as she slides the door open. “After you.”
He swallows and walks in.
Junmyeon sits there, looking every bit as handsome as he did in his photos, maybe even better. He looks relaxed, shirt sleeves rolled up just like Chanyeol, jacket thrown over another floor sitting chair. His hair is messy, but in a careful way, a stylish way that tells Chanyeol it’s purposeful. He stands as Chanyeol enters, crossing the room, and before Chanyeol can say anything, he’s pulled into a hug.
Chanyeol wraps his arms around Junmyeon, so much shorter than Chanyeol.
“Hi,” Chanyeol says nervously.
“Hi there,” Junmyeon says, looking up at Chanyeol warmly before pulling back, pointing to the spot across from his. “Sit, please.”
He obeys, sitting down, testing the limits of his pants as he does so, wincing a bit as he feels them pull taut.
“Mr. Park,” the hostess says. “Could I start you with something to drink?”
She places a menu in his hands, and he flips it over, eyes raking over the wine list...and the prices.
“Anything look good?” Junmyeon prompts.
“Just...just sparkling water, please,” Chanyeol says.
The hostess smiles and bows, but Junmyeon frowns.
“Could we also get a bottle of the Urakasumi?” Junmyeon asks.
“Of course, Mr. Kim,” the girl says. “Your server will be back momentarily.”
She slips out of the room, the door slipping closed quietly behind her, and Chanyeol looks at Junmyeon looking at him.
“My, my, my,” Junmyeon smiles. “You’re either very good at following directions, or you’re highly motivated by rewards.”
Chanyeol looks down at his lap, smiling.
“What if I’m both?” he asks.
“Oh,” Junmyeon smiles back, “recipe for disaster with me.”
“Disaster?” Chanyeol asks.
Instead of responding, Junmyeon reaches under the table and when he withdraws, he’s holding a small green box.
“Disaster,” Junmyeon says, sliding the box over to Chanyeol, “because I have a feeling you’ll be getting many more presents like this one.”
Chanyeol takes the box, and yeah, it’s exactly what he thought it was, the waved cover and gold crown leaving nothing to the imagination.
“I can’t accept this,” Chanyeol says, pushing the box back across the table.
Junmyeon furrows his brow.
“Why not?” Junmyeon says. “Don’t you like it? You haven’t even opened it.”
“It’s too much,” Chanyeol says. “I’ve...I haven’t even done anything for you yet.”
Junmyeon smiles, and goddamnit, Chanyeol is disarmed by it. How is this man so fucking pretty?
“You’ve done plenty,” Junmyeon says, studying Chanyeol carefully. “Look at this.”
He waves at Chanyeol broadly.
“You’ve dressed up so nicely,” Junmyeon says. “And you’ve really made the last week enjoyable for me. All your messages and the pictures. I think that deserves a little something, don’t you?”
“But,” Chanyeol fumbles.
“But nothing,” Junmyeon recovers. “And even if you decide you don’t want to be my baby, this is yours.”
He takes the box, cracks it open, and shows Chanyeol: it’s oyster steel and yellow gold, a black and gold dial. For a Rolex, it’s understated.
“It even matches,” Junmyeon says.
“I…” Chanyeol says.
“You?” Junmyeon says.
“I...I don’t know that I deserve this,” Chanyeol says.
“Don’t be silly,” Junmyeon says, and he lifts the watch out of the case, unclasping it. “Wrist, please.”
Chanyeol hesitates for a couple moments, but Junmyeon cocks an eyebrow at him, and for some reason, that’s enough: he sticks out his wrist for Junmyeon to take.
“Good boy,” Junmyeon says.
He hooks the watch on Chanyeol’s wrist, finger grazing against Chanyeol’s skin as he does it. The watch is weighty, feels rich, and it’s so nice, Chanyeol thinks, being on this side of things. He likes being spoiled.
“How’s that?” Junmyeon asks, giving Chanyeol his wrist back with a pat.
“Good,” Chanyeol says, beholding it. “Really good.”
“That’s my boy,” Junmyeon says. “And if all goes well, I’ll have another present for you by the end of dinner.”
“The end of di—”
But Chanyeol is interrupted, the server sliding open the door with a bottle of sake in her hands, and Junmyeon smiles brightly, like he has everything planned out, like Chanyeol is in the palm of his hands.
And maybe he is. Already.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Chanyeol asked.
“No,” Sehun said, head resting back on the cushion of the sofa’s back. “My days have been kind of busy so...just relaxing is good.”
“Good,” Chanyeol said, taking a quick hit. “Good, I’m glad. School’s…?”
“School’s good,” Sehun smiled. “Got a paper back in macro-econ.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol smiled. “What did you write about?”
He took the blunt from Chanyeol’s hand, inhaled gently. Chanyeol watched his mouth, watched his lips. Watched the smoke fill his chest and then rise from him.
Sehun coughed lightly before saying softly in a gritty voice: “Cryptocurrencies and how they disrupt the global market.”
“Oh,” Chanyeol said. “Interesting.”
“Not really,” Sehun laughed. “But thank you for pretending.”
“Anytime,” Chanyeol laughed. “So...how’d you do?”
Sehun turned, eyes glazed. He leaned in close, so close that Chanyeol could see the freckle on his nose, the little scar on his cheek.
“96,” he said, and his mouth was just a fraction of an inch away.
“Smart cookie,” Chanyeol said, inching forward to close the distance.
“The smartest,” Sehun said, and he kissed Chanyeol, lips and tongue and a bit of teeth, just at the very end.
“What do good boys get for their As?” Chanyeol asked.
“Head,” Sehun sighed. “And the new Yeezys.”
“That can be arranged,” Chanyeol smiled.
Dinner is delicious, as Chanyeol expected. It’s expensive enough: it better be damn delicious.
Junmyeon asks a lot of questions, keeps Chanyeol talking about himself, and it’s nice. Who doesn’t like talking about themselves? Still, he tries to get a couple questions of his own answered, if not just so that he could get a bit of time to eat.
“Sorry,” Junmyeon smiles after they’re finished, cheeks flushed. “You’re just very interesting.”
Chanyeol swallows, and Junmyeon watches him, makes the hairs on Chanyeol’s arms stand up straight.
“You think?” Chanyeol says. “I think I’m kind of boring.”
“What kind of sugar baby has a doctorate?” Junmyeon grins. “You’re utterly fascinating.”
“Ah,” Chanyeol says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re too kind.”
“No, I’m just honest,” Junmyeon says.
Chanyeol lays his chopsticks down, smiles.
“So,” Junmyeon says. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling...good,” Chanyeol says. “Really good.”
“You think you might want to give this a shot, then?” Junmyeon asks.
“Do...do you?” Chanyeol asks.
It elicits a laugh, cheerful and tipsy.
“As soon as I saw you,” Junmyeon says, “as soon as you walked through the fucking door, I knew I wanted to give you this.”
He reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a card. Chanyeol knows what it is, but it still catches him by surprise when he sees it: a Centurion card with Chanyeol’s name on it.
“Oh my god,” Chanyeol says.
“If you want,” Junmyeon says, “it’s yours.”
He slides it across the table, the anodized titanium making a slick scratching sound as it moves.
“What...what do you expect from me?” Chanyeol says.
“Mostly this,” Junmyeon smiles. “Coming to dinner with me. Dressing up for me. Texting me. Maybe some FaceTime.”
“And...and that’s it?” Chanyeol asks. “I mean, I guess I want you to know upfront that I have a busy schedule.”
“I’m sure you do, Chanyeol. But I’m simple,” Junmyeon says, simply. “I just need the company sometimes.”
“I—I get that,” Chanyeol says, knowing it all too well. “It can be lonely.”
“Precisely,” Junmyeon says.
“Should we...should we talk about what you expect from me i-in other ways?” Chanyeol asks, feeling his face blush at the suggestion.
Junmyeon giggles, and it’s cute, God, it’s cute.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to pursue a physical relationship with you,” Junmyeon says. “But if you don’t want, obviously, we won’t pursue it.”
Chanyeol...he hadn’t thought this far ahead. Of course, he had, had thought about it obsessively, but he thought of it in abstracts and daydreams, not in concretes and absolutes. Sehun’s face pops into his head, and even if they’re still technically open, it hasn’t felt that way in quite a while. It feels like betrayal to even be here with Junmyeon, to even be thinking about slipping into bed with him.
No, Chanyeol thinks. Sehun wouldn’t care. He’s as detached as they come. And he’s the whole reason that Chanyeol is here in the first place: to keep him. To keep him around.
He made up his mind a week ago.
“I want,” Chanyeol says. He reaches across the table, grabs the card, and puts it in his pocket.
“Excellent, baby,” Junmyeon says, genuinely pleased, before he waffles a bit. “Sh-should I call you a car, then?”
“No,” Chanyeol says. “I wanna see your place.”
Junmyeon’s eyes stick to him, to his neck, his throat.
“Let me just settle this bill,” Junmyeon says just as the server walks through the door with their check. “And then I’ll let you see.”
He did manage to establish some boundaries early on, simple little things: no texting while Chanyeol was working, no texting while Sehun was in class. Prioritize yourself. Put yourself first.
They got broken easily, smashed clean through like a wrecking ball through styrofoam, within a month or two. Chanyeol should have known, what with the casual, easy way he would do whatever the fuck Sehun asked of him, just to see him smile, just to watch the happiness settle on his face.
The phone buzzed along his countertop, and he scrambled to pick it up.
“Hi, baby,” Chanyeol answered. “On your way?”
He was greeted with a groan.
“No,” Sehun said. “I’m sorry. I think I’m...well, I don’t think. I am sick.”
“Sick?” Chanyeol frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Fever,” Sehun said, voice all froggy. “I’m sorry, I’ll...I’ll come over tomorrow, if that works, and I’ll make it up to you.”
“What are you talking about?” Chanyeol said. “You don’t have to make anything up to me.”
“Shut up,” Sehun said weakly.
Chanyeol heard the rustling of blankets, congestion in Sehun’s nose and throat. Could be a sinus infection, he thought. Chanyeol could bring his humidifier, or maybe he could convince Sehun to use a neti pot.
“Do you have everything you need?” Chanyeol asked.
“I’m fine,” Sehun said. “It’s nothing.”
“Baby,” Chanyeol said.
Sehun huffed, and it was so cute and stuffy that Chanyeol wanted to kiss him on the forehead.
“You don’t pay my rent just so you can worry about me,” Sehun said. “I’m fine.”
“Can I come over?” Chanyeol asked. “Can I...I’ll bring stuff?”
“You don’t have to do that,” Sehun said.
“But I’m a doctor,” Chanyeol said.
“Not that kind of doctor,” Sehun said.
“My doctorate in medicine begs to differ,” Chanyeol said.
“That’s not part of our arrangement,” Sehun whined, and it made Chanyeol’s stomach ache.
Chanyeol stared at the ceiling.
“What if I said I’d be over in thirty minutes?” Chanyeol said. “And that nothing you said would make a difference?”
“Then I would say...bring me some ice cream,” Sehun laughed weakly.
“That’s your fever talking,” Chanyeol said. “I’ll be there as quick as I can, okay?”
“Okay,” Sehun said quietly. “T-thank you.”
“Of course,” Chanyeol said, and he grabbed his keys.
The drive is tense in the way all good drives back to someone’s place are: Junmyeon’s hand rests on Chanyeol’s leg, possessive in all the best ways. They talk about their likes, dislikes. The hard limits that they both agree on.
“Preferences? For later?” Junmyeon asks, rubbing his fingers into Chanyeol’s thigh tantalizingly. “Anything I should know you’re interested in?”
“I, uh,” Chanyeol says. “I’m good with taking it slow for tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
Junmyeon flicks his eyes over for a second, smiling, before looking back at the road.
“That’s okay with me,” Junmyeon says. “How slow do you want to take it?”
The words sit in Chanyeol’s stomach like arousal, images flooding him: Junmyeon beneath him, thrusting his hips up like a grind as Chanyeol rides his cock. How pretty would he look with a moan on his mouth?
“I don’t know,” Chanyeol says, trying to will away the beginnings of his erection.
“Well, we can figure out what you’d like,” Junmyeon whispers.
What I’d like, Chanyeol thinks, is my mouth full.
But this is new. They should go slow.
“Okay,” Chanyeol says.
And he stares at Junmyeon, at the way his pants stretch tight over him, the way his shirt hugs his flat stomach.
“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says. “Eyes forward.”
Chanyeol holds back a whimper and obeys.
“What a good boy you are,” Junmyeon praises. “You gonna be good for me all night long?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, mesmerized by the lights dancing by them, the glittering pavement, the moon shining bright white and ethereal.
“As pretty as you look right now, I can’t wait to get you out of those clothes,” Junmyeon says. “I think you’d be much prettier without them.”
Chanyeol’s fingers scramble for purchase on the leather seats, desperate for something to hold onto. It already feels like his world is rattling off its axis, and he chastises himself internally for it. He’s a grown man for Christ’s sake.
"You like that idea?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yes,” Chanyeol hisses. “Very much so.”
“You’ve been quite the minx over the past week,” Junmyeon says, a curve to his lips. “I’m wondering how long that will last once I’ve got my hands on you.”
Not very long, Chanyeol thinks. Not very long at all.
Chanyeol doesn’t speak, just twists his hips a little into his seat, staring at the way Junmyeon’s fingers clench around the wheel. He’s got nice hands, Chanyeol notices. Not too much smaller than his own, but with thick veins, stretching and pulsing. He...he tries not to imagine Junmyeon’s fingers buried inside him, wet and teasing. He tries, but he fails.
“What are you thinking about?” Junmyeon asks, and Chanyeol is caught, wrapped up in rope like always.
“Nothing,” Chanyeol says.
The car rolls to a stop at a red light, and as Junmyeon turns to face him, he’s drenched in scarlet, red hot and wearing it well, just the same way he wears everything else.
“And to think,” Junmyeon smiles at him, the hand on Chanyeol’s thigh steadily sliding up, “I thought you were honest.”
“Shut up,” Chanyeol squirms.
“You just say no,” Junmyeon says, “if you want me to stop.”
Chanyeol knows he would never say stop, not with Junmyeon because Chanyeol is total putty in his hands, but it still relaxes him, loosens the tension in his spine.
That relaxation ends quickly, when Junmyeon’s fingers begin to play with Chanyeol’s belt buckle.
“Cute,” Junmyeon says, looking at the golden snake weaved along the metal. “Go ahead. Unbuckle it.”
Chanyeol’s hands move like lightning, and when the light turns green, Junmyeon snaps his head back to the road, Chanyeol left with his belt unbuckled.
“Unbutton and unzip,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol is eager to obey the command, sliding down his zipper carefully over his hardening cock. When Junmyeon chances a look over, quickly looking back to the road, he smiles. “Cute.”
“Don’t call me cute,” Chanyeol says, pants open.
“But you’re cute,” Junmyeon says, and without looking, he reaches over and grabs Chanyeol by the cock, dragging a moan from him. “Look at you, hm?”
“Ah,” Chanyeol moans, the rough, almost clinical treatment getting him dizzyingly hot, dizzyingly fast.
“Such a big boy,” Junmyeon says, accompanying it with a stroke to Chanyeol’s cock through his boxer briefs. “But all you really want is to be pushed around a little.”
It reminds Chanyeol of how quickly Sehun got to the bottom of him, figured out what made him tick and then used it against him. He blinks quickly, trying to rid the images of Sehun from his head, trying his best to focus on the situation at hand.
“Y-yeah,” Chanyeol says.
“Do you think you’d be able to get control of me?” Junmyeon wonders aloud. “Make me submit?”
Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, just winds his hips as Junmyeon strokes him, fully hard through his boxer briefs in Junmyeon’s hand.
“You’ve got the size advantage,” Junmyeon says. “But I don’t think you’d put up a fight at all. I don’t think you’d be the type to struggle. I think, I don’t know, say someone puts their hand on the back of your neck, puts your face in the pillow...you’d probably just get on your knees and tilt your ass up, ready to be taken.”
Chanyeol whimpers, broken.
This isn’t slow at all, but Chanyeol wants it and wants it bad, stripped bared before Junmyeon before they’ve even kissed.
“Is that it?” Junmyeon says. “You want to submit to me?”
“Y-yes,” Chanyeol says, and he and Sehun have messed around with this a little, but never like this, never so structured, never with so much anticipation.
“Just wait a little longer, baby,” Junmyeon says, squeezing a tight fist around the head of Chanyeol’s clothed cock and making him shudder almost violently. “We’re almost there.”
Chanyeol was greeted by Sehun, his comforter wrapped around him like a winter coat.
“Hi,” Sehun said before looking down at Chanyeol’s hands. “Oh god, what did you do?”
“Just went and got a few things,” Chanyeol said. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Is that a fucking humidifier?” Sehun asked, peeking into the bag.
“Yes,” Chanyeol said. “I was gonna bring mine, but I figured you should have your own. You got lucky; the Bed, Bath, and Beyond I went to was open until ten.”
“Chanyeol,” Sehun whined, stomping his foot. “Stop, you’re too good to me.”
“None of that,” Chanyeol said. “Go lie down. Let me get you all set up.”
Sehun sighed, resigned to his fate of being taken care of, and padded off back towards his bedroom, and Chanyeol heard him land on the bed with a soft, plush sound.
He stopped at a bodega, picked up snacks and soup and some ibuprofen, hoping that would bring Sehun’s fever down.
“Do you have a thermometer?” Chanyeol called.
“Are you kidding?”
Chanyeol smiled, pulled his out, protective carrying case and all.
“You feeling hungry?” Chanyeol asked.
“No,” Sehun whined. “Thirsty.”
Chanyeol grabbed a water bottle and a Gatorade, three little orange pills on a napkin, before walking back into the bedroom, Sehun face down on the center of the bed, hair a mess, sweating and groaning.
“You look pretty,” Chanyeol said.
Sehun unceremoniously lifted a hand to flip him off, making Chanyeol snort over a laugh.
“Here,” Chanyeol said, sitting next to him and pushing at his shoulder. “Stuff to drink.”
Sehun rolled, managed to sit up next to Chanyeol, draining half the water bottle in a couple pulls.
“Slow down,” Chanyeol said. “You don’t wanna give yourself a cramp.”
“I’m dying anyway,” Sehun said. “It’s fine.”
Chanyeol rolled his eyes, handed him the pills.
“This’ll help with the fever,” Chanyeol said. “Now be a good boy and swallow what Daddy gives you.”
Sehun smirked, obedient in sickness, before heaving out a couple breaths.
“Be right back,” Chanyeol said, patting Sehun on the leg. “Get comfortable, okay?”
For all intents and purposes, Chanyeol is rich, and he knows how rich people live. He’s been around them long enough, years now, but this is something else entirely. This is extravagance just for the sake of extravagance. This is money to burn.
Chanyeol has never seen opulence like Junmyeon’s, luxe and dripping with gold.
The building is tragically tall and all glass, and Chanyeol tries not to look like a starry-eyed child as he stares up at it.
“It’s a little ride to the top,” Junmyeon says, taking Chanyeol by the hand. “Hopefully you don’t mind.”
The man at the door smiles at Junmyeon.
“Mr. Kim,” he says. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Junmyeon says. “Kids good?”
“Kids are just fine,” the doorman says as they pass him by. “You have a good evening now.”
“You too, Ron,” Junmyeon says. “See you in the morning.”
They walk through the lobby, reminiscent of his own, but noticeably more luxurious. The floors are white-grey marble, the walls are double-high and snow white, and the whole thing looks like an art gallery. Junmyeon laughs when Chanyeol mentions it.
“It is, technically,” Junmyeon says. “The exhibition rotates. You get, I don’t know, three to four features per year.”
“Shit,” Chanyeol says, still being led by the hand.
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says before he points with his free hand. “I bought that one.”
Chanyeol follows where Junmyeon points, sees the painting, and gasps: it’s a portrait, a man with tan skin, full lips, eyes shut. There’s red paint being poured on him, his body totally nude besides.
“Oh,” Chanyeol says as they walk. “I can see why.”
“Erotic, don’t you think?” Junmyeon says.
“Good for the bedroom,” Chanyeol says.
“Yes, good for the bedroom,” Junmyeon agrees. “And speaking of...”
He presses the button on the elevator, and the door opens immediately because even machines come when beckoned by him.
“Let’s get up there, hm?” Junmyeon smiles.
Junmyeon steps in first, hands braced on the bar, legs spread. Chanyeol follows and follows quickly.
As the doors close, and they are left blessedly alone, Junmyeon’s mouth finds Chanyeol’s, and their kiss is immediate in its passion. He gasps into it, rises to it, writhes under the attention. Chanyeol is then pressed into the wall of the elevator cabin, Junmyeon’s hand on the back of his neck as he demands Chanyeol lean into him, lean down for him. Chanyeol finds himself making helpless little noises, whimpers and whines that he leaks into Junmyeon’s mouth.
“Mm,” Junmyeon says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Chanyeol’s lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Me?” Chanyeol gasps, and it earns him a laugh from Junmyeon.
“You making those sounds?” Junmyeon says, reaching down between their bodies to press against Chanyeol’s erection. Chanyeol watches, pushes his hips into it. “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be the death of me.”
“This is some real boyfriend shit,” Sehun smiled, the washcloth on his forehead dripping a couple stray drops of water down his temples.
“Shut up,” Chanyeol said. “I didn’t want you to die.”
“I wouldn’t die,” Sehun said. “It’s just a cold.”
Chanyeol didn’t correct him where he could, sure that the fever was still thick in his head like smoke. Chanyeol reached down between them, held Sehun’s hand firmly.
“Just wanted to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself,” Chanyeol said.
“I’m an investment after all,” Sehun said, and there was something...something Chanyeol didn’t like in that.
He took Sehun’s face in his hand, directed him to look into Chanyeol’s eyes. Sehun tried to shy away, but Chanyeol held him firmly.
“I care about you, okay?” Chanyeol said. “Don’t forget that.”
Sehun’s eyes went soft, molten chocolate brown.
“Yeah?” Sehun said.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “Of course.”
There was exhaustion in Sehun’s eyes, but something else behind it, something that Chanyeol wanted more of. It wasn’t until after Sehun fell asleep, warm in his arms, that Chanyeol realized what that was: affection.
The view alone is worth eighty million dollars, and Chanyeol nearly chokes on his tongue at the size.
“I wanted something big,” Junmyeon says casually. “Somewhere all my friends could crash.”
Chanyeol is sure that he could house a small army in the penthouse, with all its beds and its baths, but Junmyeon’s voice alone echoes, and for tonight, the whole place belongs to him and Chanyeol.
The view of the city is stunning, perfect no matter what room you look out the window of, but Junmyeon shows him every room, even shows him the kids’ room, bright and cartoonish compared to the stark whites and greys of the rest of the floor.
“Some of my friends have kids,” Junmyeon shrugs. “I wanted to be accomodating.”
There’s something intoxicating about being near someone so rich, being with them. Chanyeol is used to being the rich one, the one who pays. But...being arm candy, he’s starting to see the appeal in it.
“Hm,” Junmyeon says as Chanyeol wraps himself around Junmyeon, arms around his waist. “What else is there? I could show you my refrigerator if you wanted?”
“Is it exciting?” Chanyeol asks, bending down to place a kiss to Junmyeon’s neck.
“No,” Junmyeon laughs. “Not at all.”
“Show me something exciting,” Chanyeol says through an open-mouthed kiss.
It earns him a shiver, Junmyeon’s ass pressing into Chanyeol’s crotch. He moans.
“You should see the shower,” Junmyeon smiles.
And he leads Chanyeol to the master bathroom. It is beautiful, same as the rest of the penthouse, but it’s the type of beauty that never seems to get old. Pristine and spotless, the stainless steel features sparkle and the white marble tiles gleam. And then he sees it: the walk-in with the touch screen.
“You can control the temperature, there’s a steam feature, and also,” he says, before dramatically pushing a button, only to have a waterfall begin pouring out onto the tile, “there’s that.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chanyeol says, running a hand through his hair. “That’s…”
“Pretty great, huh?” Junmyeon says, pressing a few buttons and shutting it off, turning to face Chanyeol, folding his arms. “You can use it now, if you’d like.”
He cocks an eyebrow at Chanyeol. He knows what that means.
“Um,” Chanyeol says. “Yeah, definitely.”
“I can leave,” Junmyeon says. “If you’d like.”
If you’d like, his voice rings. If you’d like.
No, Chanyeol thinks. I wouldn’t like.
“Y-you can stay,” Chanyeol says. “If you’d like.”
Junmyeon smiles as he pushes Chanyeol back, back, back, until his ass hits the counter-top and Junmyeon takes Chanyeol in a kiss that feels more like foreplay than any other kiss he’s ever had. Something about the way he twists his tongue is like a promise, a hint of what’s to come. Chanyeol shrinks, makes himself small, whimpers through it.
“Let’s get clean,” Junmyeon says. “Hm?”
Chanyeol whimpers his response.
Junmyeon’s fingers play with the clasp at the back of Chanyeol’s neck, the choker tight to his throat.
“This is wonderful,” Junmyeon says. “It suits you so well.”
Chanyeol’s stomach flip-flops at the thought: he’s wearing something meant for Sehun. It would suit him better, but here he is, wearing it anyway. Pretending anyway. Junmyeon pops the clasp open before setting it down on the counter, his fingers light over the sensitive skin at Chanyeol’s neck, the skin he uncovered.
Junmyeon starts to strip Chanyeol out of his clothes, beginning with unbuttoning Chanyeol’s dress shirt, one by one, popping each button through its hole slowly. He treats everything like a tease, Chanyeol realizes, everything soaked through to the bone with anticipation.
Chanyeol shrugs his way out as Junmyeon pushes the fabric off his shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the floor, and Junmyeon steps back, getting a good look at him while Chanyeol resists the urge to fold his arms over his chest.
“Look at you,” Junmyeon says, running his palms flat over Chanyeol’s pectorals as he flexes. “Even better than I hoped for.”
“Please,” Chanyeol says. “You have low standards.”
“On the contrary,” Junmyeon says, and he skims his hands over Chanyeol’s skin, goosebumps lining him. “I have incredibly high standards, standards that are rarely met, let alone exceeded. But you...well, you exceed them, baby.”
Chanyeol shivers under the touch, under the praise, and he lets himself go weak.
Junmyeon’s hands land on his belt, and he carefully unloops it, setting it down on the counter before he unbuttons Chanyeol’s pants.
“Go ahead,” Junmyeon says. “All at once now.”
Chanyeol lets his lungs fill, slowly exhaling as he shucks his pants and underwear down in one smooth push, pooling at his feet. He again resists the urge to throw his hands over himself, and he lets Junmyeon look his fill.
“Stunning,” Junmyeon says. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
He can barely believe that he’s here, with Junmyeon, doing this. He steps out of his pants, toeing off his socks in the process, and just like that, he’s totally naked while Junmyeon stands there, totally clothed. It puts a smoking fire of arousal in his groin, Junmyeon’s dominance over him already so well established.
“You want me to join you?” Junmyeon asks, fingers playing with the button at his collar.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and he puts his hands on Junmyeon’s waist, pulling their bodies together as Junmyeon slowly, slowly untucks his shirt and starts pulling it away from him.
He works out, Chanyeol thinks, he must, because there are lines of definition across his stomach, and Chanyeol wants to get to his knees to lick across them, trace them with his tongue.
“You wanna touch?” Junmyeon asks quietly.
“Yes,” Chanyeol answers.
Junmyeon lifts Chanyeol’s hands from his hips to his stomach, dragging them across his abdomen and throwing his head back.
“Mm,” he sighs. “Feels good, baby.”
It feels good to Chanyeol, and he watches as Junmyeon moves Chanyeol’s hands over his own skin, taking what he wants even in this. It’s fiercely hot, the way Junmyeon seems to own him already.
Junmyeon strips himself carefully, cautiously, and Chanyeol waits, trying to feign patience while the impatience fills him from head to toe like water rushing in.
Chanyeol steals as many glances as he can while Junmyeon pushes his pants down his legs, and God, his mouth waters. It hasn’t even been that long since he sucked dick, but the need to get his mouth on Junmyeon is nearly overwhelming.
“Eyes up here,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol’s eyes snap to meet Junmyeon’s. “Still good?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “Really good.”
Junmyeon smiles with all his teeth, and he’s so beautiful that it’s distracting. Chanyeol gets lost in that smile, in the way Junmyeon’s eyes sparkle under halogen lights.
Chanyeol disobeys a bit, watches Junmyeon’s ass as he walks to the touch screen on the outside of the shower.
“Do you like it hotter?” Junmyeon asks, poking at it.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, licking his lips.
Junmyeon presses a couple of buttons, and the shower streams to life again, the steam immediately filling the room from the floor and rising like clouds to the ceiling.
“In,” Junmyeon points, smiling.
Chanyeol steps through the door, into the shower, and ducks under the waterfall that hits him, pounding his skin like the best kind of massage, the kind that leaves you limp and useless after, flesh tender and beaten soft.
Junmyeon steps in after he does, and the steam makes his skin shine. He looks even more beautiful than usual this way. He constantly finds ways to improve upon perfection, and it leaves Chanyeol wanting.
Chanyeol offers him a hand, and Junmyeon takes it, letting Chanyeol pull him into the water, into a hug.
“Mm,” Chanyeol says, Junmyeon’s head against his chest. “How much was this?”
“Why?” Junmyeon murmurs. “Want one?”
“Depends on what it costs,” Chanyeol says.
And maybe it’s the wrong thing to say, because Junmyeon responds by grabbing Chanyeol by the shoulders and pushing him into the wall, shocking a harsh breath out of him.
“Money is no longer a concern for you,” Junmyeon says. “Not for as long as we’re together. Okay? I’ll take care of you.”
The lines are close together, nearly touching, but Chanyeol can still manage to read between them: Give yourself to me.
“Okay,” Chanyeol says softly.
“There’s a good boy,” Junmyeon says, running a hand down his neck, down his spine. “Turn around, and I’ll wash your hair for you.”
Chanyeol does as he’s told to do, facing the wall as Junmyeon scrubs into his scalp with shampoo that smells like mint and eucalyptus. Junmyeon’s going to wash away all Chanyeol’s hard work, all his makeup and styling, and it puts some self-consciousness in the back of his head: what if Junmyeon doesn’t like him as much when he isn’t done up? When he isn’t at his best?
“Don’t think too much,” Junmyeon says, scrubbing down behind Chanyeol’s ears and making him shudder all over. “You’re getting all tense.”
“Sorry,” Chanyeol apologizes.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Junmyeon whispers, barely audible over the uninterrupted, unending pattering of water. “I just want you to be comfortable.”
“I am,” Chanyeol says. “I am.”
“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Slow as you wanna go.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, but at this point, he’s working against the clock of his own lust, the minutes ticking down with every brush of their skin. He wants it so badly. He wants everything.
Junmyeon directs him under the spray once more, tilting his head back and letting the soap spin down the drain. It’s almost loving, the way Junmyeon washes him clean, and Chanyeol’s throat tightens at the thought, and strangely, it is the moment that he most feels as if he’s doing something wrong.
“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Me now.”
Chanyeol raises his head, runs a hand through his hair until it stands, all ruffled and water-spiked. He crosses to where the bath products rest, and he pumps the top until a small pool rests in his palm. He turns, smiles at Junmyeon smiling at him.
“Turn around,” Chanyeol says, before amending with a “please.”
“So polite,” Junmyeon smirks, turning.
Chanyeol is momentarily dumbstruck by the sight of the water running down his neck, down the widest part of his shoulders, down the small of his back. He’s delicate, Chanyeol realizes, and it’s a hot thought: someone small having all the power. He shakes himself out of it, trying not to be such a fucking virgin about it.
He lathers Junmyeon’s hair, the pads of Chanyeol’s fingers scrubbing slow circles into Junmyeon’s scalp. He listens for a minute, and then he hears sighs over the water.
“You’ve got good hands,” Junmyeon says.
“Thank you,” Chanyeol says. “I like to give massages.”
“Oh, do you now?” Junmyeon says. “I might have to take advantage of that.”
“Whenever you want,” Chanyeol says, and he means it. “Okay, rinse.”
Chanyeol guides him, holds Junmyeon by the back of the neck and gently tilts his head back. Junmyeon is pretty, so pretty, long eyelashes and pink lips.
When he’s finished, hair no longer streaked white with suds, Junmyeon lifts his head. Chanyeol’s hand chases him, wants to keep hold of him.
“Thank you, baby,” Junmyeon says, and he takes Chanyeol by the neck, pulling him into a kiss.
They hold each other like that, the napes of their necks in each other’s hands as they kiss, tongues and teeth. When Junmyeon breaks them apart, he grabs a scrub, washing himself quickly before washing Chanyeol’s body diligently, focused like a laser on every inch of skin.
The texture of the sponge is mesh, and it scratches gently over his skin, contrasting with Junmyeon’s movements enough that goosebumps spring up over his skin as Junmyeon works.
“Good?” Junmyeon asks.
“Good,” Chanyeol sighs.
“Should I—” Junmyeon starts, and he moves his hand around Chanyeol’s waist, fingers slipping down.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
Chanyeol’s not dumb, though, or if he is, he’s not dumb that way. He prepared as thoroughly as humanly possible thanks to his shower attachment, so he’s not worried about cleanliness. However, feeling Junmyeon slip his hand down, fingers playing slippery over Chanyeol’s skin, he goes boneless in Junmyeon’s embrace.
“Oh, you weren’t lying, you really like that,” Junmyeon says, playing with Chanyeol’s rim and making him gasp.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, trying to twist his hips, trying to get the tip of Junmyeon’s finger to sink in.
“Be good now,” Junmyeon says.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and before he can stop himself, he tacks on the title: “Daddy.”
“Yeah?” Junmyeon smiles. “Am I your daddy?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol hisses. “Please.”
“God, you’re cute,” Junmyeon says, and he’s one to fuckin’ talk, standing on his tiptoes and kissing Chanyeol lushly.
They kiss under the water for a considerable amount of time, so long that Chanyeol loses track of it, his jaw feeling weak already with use, their bodies sliding against one another’s. He’s ready. He wants it.
“Come on,” he whispers against Junmyeon’s mouth. “We’re done.”
“Are we?” Junmyeon asks. “You don’t want me to take you apart in here?”
Chanyeol’s knees go weak at the thought, face against the wet tile, the sounds of their skin slapping together. Lewd. Obscene. Loud enough for someone to hear.
“I was kidding,” Junmyeon says. “But the look on your face is making me reconsider.”
“Stop,” Chanyeol begs. He’s already so willing to do whatever Junmyeon wants. “Please.”
“Is this too fast?” Junmyeon asks, a hand gentle on Chanyeol’s cheek.
Chanyeol turns into it, and he kisses the center of Junmyeon’s hand as if to say right here, this is where I live now. Right in your palm of your hand.
“No,” Chanyeol says. “Take me to bed.”
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “Okay.”
Stepping out of the shower, the water turned off, Junmyeon wraps him in a warmed towel and a hug. The towel smells clean and fresh, he feels clean and fresh. Junmyeon looks at him as they towel off, and Chanyeol can see his arousal plainly, written all over his body like ink.
Junmyeon takes Chanyeol’s hand in his, other hand clutching his towel to his waist.
“Ready?” Junmyeon asks.
Chanyeol almost falls over himself to say yes.
He was in the OR, which means he didn’t get out until quarter to six or so. He was exhausted, bone tired and ready for a beer.
After he changed and showered, he grabbed his phone to see a voicemail notification from Sehun. Chanyeol smiled to himself. He walked to his car, unlocked it, got inside, and hit play.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Sehun said. “For over the weekend. I was...I don’t know, you didn’t have to do any of that, but you did, so I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated it.”
Sehun took a breath, so Chanyeol took one too, just to match.
“You’re a good person,” Sehun said. “And I like you a lot. I mean, that should be obvious by now, but…”
Sehun laughed, and it pulled at the corners of Chanyeol’s mouth.
“I like you,” Sehun said, and it felt final, like a fact. “So yeah. Uh, sorry, this is so weird. Oh my god, I’m such a fuckin’ idiot. Anyway, thank you again. For taking care of me and everything. And for being cool. I’ll, um...I’ll text you. I guess you’re probably still in there right now, so…”
He trailed off, and Chanyeol could hear music in the background, the kind Sehun liked to study to. Did he stop working just so that he could talk to Chanyeol? Was he thinking about it so much that he needed to say something? That he couldn’t go back to work without it?
“Hope you had a good day. I’ll talk to you soon,” Sehun said. “Bye, Daddy.”
Chanyeol ended the call, and he put his phone in the cup-holder before twisting his key and letting the engine roar to life.
Junmyeon leads the way, and as they walk into the room, Chanyeol’s gaze immediately lands on the bed. It dominates the room, bright white like a beacon and giant, much too large for one person.
“Is that a California King?” Chanyeol asks, fingers still clutching his towel tight to him.
“It is,” Junmyeon says. “I toss and turn a lot.”
Chanyeol imagines Junmyeon in bed with someone else, and he feels a pull of possessiveness at his gut. Already?, he thinks. Chanyeol doesn’t know how he manages to fall for people so quickly, so wholly, but it makes him want to drop to his knees.
“Ah,” Chanyeol says. “You don’t wanna disturb anyone?”
“I’m very thoughtful that way,” Junmyeon smiles.
He drops his towel, and Chanyeol’s eyes move on their own accord, snapping to the movement. Junmyeon isn’t as big as Chanyeol is, but Chanyeol likes dicks that lean more towards average anyway: they’re easier to deep throat, after all.
Chanyeol drops his own towel, steps forward.
“You want somethin’, baby?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yes, Daddy,” Chanyeol says, and he’s feeling it, feeling the moment. Bold. Slutty. He reaches forward, takes Junmyeon’s cock in his hand. “I want you.”
“You want me?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “I want you.”
“You sure?” Junmyeon asks, and he trails his fingernails down the side of Chanyeol’s neck, enough to make him shiver. “You said you wanted to go slow.”
Chanyeol whines and strokes Junmyeon’s cock.
“You don’t wanna go slow anymore?” Junmyeon asks.
“No,” Chanyeol says. “I wanna taste.”
Junmyeon moans, pushes his hips out and up before dragging Chanyeol down to him by the back of the neck, blistering his lips in a kiss. Chanyeol goes, lets himself be taken in, taken in and dominated. Junmyeon controls the pace, twisting and grinding into Chanyeol’s hand as he licks into Chanyeol’s mouth. He glides his hand down the nape of Chanyeol’s neck, down his bicep, across his pectoral, down his oblique. Down. Taking Chanyeol in his hand.
“F-fuck,” Chanyeol says against Junmyeon’s lips.
“Is that good?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
“Please what?” Junmyeon asks, and he licks Chanyeol’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, biting at it.
“Ah,” Chanyeol moans. “Please. More.”
Junmyeon doesn’t say anything else, just starts pushing Chanyeol by the shoulders back towards the bed until he falls back, flat on the bed with Junmyeon standing over him.
Chanyeol watches as Junmyeon goes to his side-table and grabs lube and a condom. Heat simmers all over his skin, about to erupt into a rolling boil, and he reaches down to squeeze his thumb and index finger around the base of his cock.
“So pretty,” Junmyeon says, strolling back over, looming over Chanyeol. “Let’s play for a while, okay?”
Junmyeon uncaps the lube and holds it up over Chanyeol, lets it drip from the tip onto Chanyeol’s cock.
“O-okay,” Chanyeol says, voice jumping with the sudden coolness.
Junmyeon gets onto the bed, kneeling, and Chanyeol spreads his legs to accommodate him. Chanyeol is breathless with anticipation, watching as Junmyeon watches him, hungry. Needy.
The flat of Junmyeon’s palm slides over Chanyeol’s length, rubbing the lube into his skin before circling the head of his cock in a fist.
“Oh,” Chanyeol says, moans.
“Mm,” Junmyeon says. “Look at you. So big.”
Chanyeol can’t think of anything to say, not with Junmyeon’s hand tight around his dick. He keeps his hips still, learned instinct, and he grits his teeth to stop from making any noise.
“This,” Junmyeon says, and he bends forward, starts pressing kisses to Chanyeol’s abdomen, “is the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen.”
Chanyeol squirms, caught between wanting more and wanting the most.
“But you are gonna look so good sitting on my cock,” Junmyeon says, licking at Chanyeol’s abs, his hand making small little jerking movements at the very tip of Chanyeol’s cock. “Bouncing up and down like you were meant to ride it.”
Chanyeol whimpers, tilts his hips back, arches his back.
“Don’t run away,” Junmyeon says. “I’m just getting started with you.”
Junmyeon sits up between Chanyeol’s legs, and Chanyeol gets a look at him as he reaches forward to take Chanyeol’s cock in both of his hands. It’s a good look, the best look, and he tenses his core just to stop from thrusting up into it, though it doesn’t take long for Junmyeon to start twisting and stroking Chanyeol’s cock anyway.
He alternates, changes his hand positioning and their motions too quickly for Chanyeol to get a handle on it. First, he’s jacking him off lightning fast, up and down. Then, he’s pushing his fist down from tip to base slowly, only for the next fist to repeat the motion, a never-ending hole for Chanyeol to fuck through. Then, he’s teasing his fingers around the head, light and playful. He never knows what to expect next, and sooner rather than later, he is on the edge of orgasm, about to spill.
“I’m...I’m gonna come,” Chanyeol gasps, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, Junmyeon’s hands are off him. “Fuck.”
Junmyeon watches him, and Chanyeol tries not to shy away from it: his gaze is appreciative, hungry, so Chanyeol lays there like a meal about to be devoured.
“You come that quick normally?” Junmyeon asks.
He wonders: should he be honest? And which is more embarrassing, the truth or the lie?
“No,” Chanyeol says, chest heaving with effort. “I’m just—I’m really fucking turned on right now.”
A smile breaks through the stoic focus on Junmyeon’s face, and he licks his bottom lip before biting it.
“I guess I should take that as a compliment, huh?” Junmyeon says.
“I guess you should,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon strokes wet fingers down the sensitive insides of Chanyeol’s thighs, and Chanyeol looks down, watching his legs shake of their own accord.
“God, you’re fun,” Junmyeon says. “Already like this, and we’ve only just started.”
“Stop,” Chanyeol whines, and he resists the urge to cover his face shamefully, instinctively knowing that Junmyeon would only chide him for it.
“No, it’s good,” Junmyeon says, and he trails his touch over Chanyeol’s balls gently. “I like seeing desperation.”
I am desperate, Chanyeol thinks. I really, really am.
“Should I make you a little more desperate?” Junmyeon asks.
“I don’t know how much more desperate I can be,” Chanyeol says with a breathless laugh.
“Ah,” Junmyeon says, taking Chanyeol’s cock in his hand again. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Junmyeon jerks him off quickly and efficiently, like he knows all the buttons to press and how and when, until Chanyeol is shivering and begging to come, curling his toes and balling his hands into fists just to keep his orgasm at bay.
“F-fuck,” Chanyeol says when Junmyeon takes his hand away again. “Fuck.”
“Should I punish you for cursing?” Junmyeon asks, smiling.
“I think you’d be doing a lot of punishing,” Chanyeol says.
“Do you like that?” Junmyeon asks. “Punishment?”
“I’d probably like anything you did to me,” Chanyeol says, as honest as he can get.
“Oh, you are such a charmer,” Junmyeon says, and he starts to slowly stroke Chanyeol’s cock again, focusing all his efforts on the head. “But that won’t save you now.”
It is only seconds before Chanyeol is stuttering out that he’s about to come yet again, and Junmyeon only gives him a second or two to catch his breath before he’s back on him, trying to rip his resolve away.
“S-stop,” Chanyeol says as Junmyeon keeps on going, brushing right past Chanyeol’s warnings. “Stop, stop, I’m gonna come.”
“Don’t you want to?” Junmyeon asks, milking Chanyeol’s cock with a torturous smile on his face.
“Yes,” Chanyeol groans, and it’s the only thing he can think about now. “Yes, make me come.”
“Make you come?” Junmyeon says.
Chanyeol says it like a mantra, repeating it until it doesn’t have real meaning anymore.
“Make me come,” he says mindlessly, eyes squeezed shut as he’s about to lose it, about to ricochet through the hardest orgasm of his fucking life. “Make me come.”
“No,” Junmyeon says, and it is cruel when he takes his hand away, sitting back on his heels as he watches Chanyeol writhe in pleasure-pain. He laughs quietly as Chanyeol struggles. “You’re cute.”
“You’re mean,” Chanyeol grits out.
“Baby,” Junmyeon says, pouting before he lays down, his chest against Chanyeol’s, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “You think I’m mean?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and he tilts his head up, kissing Junmyeon dirty and good. “But I like it.”
Junmyeon’s eyes sparkle as he smiles.
“I like you,” Junmyeon says, and he sits back up. Chanyeol misses the weight of him already, but when he starts slicking up his fingers more deliberately with lube, he doesn’t miss it quite as much. “How far should we go?”
“As far as you want,” Chanyeol says, feeling inclined to give Junmyeon whatever he wants and more.
“What a nice answer,” Junmyeon says, and he reaches between Chanyeol’s legs to touch his hole, smearing lube there, making Chanyeol whine. “God, you’re such a baby, aren’t you?”
Yes, Chanyeol thinks. I’m needy, and I want you.
When Junmyeon pushes a slick finger in, he immediately goes searching for Chanyeol’s prostate. Chanyeol hisses when he finds it and starts rubbing it gently.
“Got you,” Junmyeon says, delighted.
“Please,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
“Please what?” Junmyeon says. “Be specific, baby.”
He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants Junmyeon to finger-fuck him until his legs are shaking. He wants Junmyeon to push inside, reckless and mean. He wants Junmyeon to fuck him hard, within an inch of his life. He wants Junmyeon to strip the condom off, come all over his face and make Chanyeol lick himself clean. He wants too much. He doesn’t know what he wants at all.
“Please,” Chanyeol repeats.
“Talk to me,” Junmyeon says. “Tell me what baby wants.”
“Fuck me,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
“Mm,” Junmyeon says, and he slips another finger inside, curling and stroking, beckoning Chanyeol forth.
“Please, fuck me,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon ignores his pleas, lets Chanyeol melt down to nothing on the sheets beneath him with no hint of it affecting him at all. It makes Chanyeol want to crack into him, break through the wall until Junmyeon shows him something. Shows him that it’s not just Chanyeol that is so desperate for it that it hurts—that it’s both of them.
“Daddy,” Chanyeol cries as Junmyeon stretches him, preps him.
“There you go,” Junmyeon says, and he takes Chanyeol’s cock in his other hand, jerks him off soft and slow. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Chanyeol whimpers, thrusts his hips frenetically, deliriously, caught between wanting to drive Junmyeon’s fingers inside him deeper and wanting to fuck up into Junmyeon’s touch.
“Baby wants it,” Junmyeon says as Chanyeol works his hips.
“Yes, Daddy,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
When Junmyeon backs away and starts rolling on the condom, it hits Chanyeol how real it is. He’s going to be fucked. For money. And in some part of him, he’s got a dirty kind of arousal bottled up about it. The role reversal is fun, in some small way.
But through most of him, through his muscles and blood and bones, he’s feeling guilty. Really guilty. The sick sort of guilty that feels like bile rising up in your throat, spilling tears out onto your cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut, alarmed to feel tears actually spring out, and he panics.
“Hey, hey,” Junmyeon says, and he reaches down to touch Chanyeol’s face gently. “Too fast?”
“No,” Chanyeol says, and he grits his teeth. “N-no, sorry, I don’t know what—I don’t know what’s happening, I—I think—”
He starts losing control of himself, chest heaving, and Junmyeon scrambles to lay beside him.
“It’s okay,” Junmyeon says. “It’s alright.”
He curls Chanyeol up small enough to fit in Junmyeon’s embrace. He strokes through his hair, nails lightly scratching at Chanyeol’s scalp, and Chanyeol closes his eyes and focuses on breathing, trying to stop the tears, trying to stop the panic.
“You’re okay,” Junmyeon says. “You’re fine.”
Chanyeol swallows it down like a pill, desperate to not ruin this. God, he must look like such an idiot, getting all misty-eyed and panicky just moments before getting railed.
“Shh,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t say shit like that.”
Junmyeon gives Chanyeol a comfort he doesn’t deserve, holding him carefully. Like something to be treasured or honored when Chanyeol is neither.
“Come on,” Junmyeon says, and he strips off the condom, throwing it to the side. “Get under the blankets.”
“No,” Chanyeol says. “I’m fine, I swear.”
“You don’t look fine,” he says softly.
“That’s mean,” Chanyeol says, sniffing.
Junmyeon laughs, and it brings a smile to Chanyeol’s face.
“Get under the covers,” Junmyeon says again, poking Chanyeol in the cheek. “And that’s an order.”
Chanyeol obeys the way he’s meant to, and Junmyeon holds him, holds him until his breathing is even and his face is dry. Until the room is quiet. Until Junmyeon breaks that quiet.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly against Chanyeol’s ear.
“I’m fine,” Chanyeol says. “Here.”
And he moves to sit on top of Junmyeon, blankets draped over his back like a cape.
“Hey,” Junmyeon says, grabbing Chanyeol’s hands. “What are you doing? Are you okay? Are we okay?”
“We’re fine,” Chanyeol says, and he rubs his ass against Junmyeon’s soft cock.
“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says even as he gasps. “You need to talk to me.”
“I’m talking,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon sits up, Chanyeol’s legs wrapping around his body as he takes Chanyeol’s face in his hands.
“You’re not,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol stills the motion of his hips. “What’s up?”
He doesn’t know how to say it because the truth is too ugly to bear.
“I just...I guess I wasn’t—I mean, I guess I thought of something,” Chanyeol says. “It’s hard to talk about.”
Junmyeon runs a hand up and down Chanyeol’s back, long comforting strokes.
“It’s okay,” Junmyeon says. “If this is more than you wanted, then—”
He’s got to earn it. He’s got to keep Sehun, and he has to earn it.
“No,” Chanyeol says. “No. I want it. I do.”
“Are you sure?” Junmyeon asks.
“I’m sure,” Chanyeol says.
“Okay,” Junmyeon says. And he wraps his arms around Chanyeol, moving him with a bit more strength than Chanyeol had anticipated until Chanyeol’s back is against the mattress again. “Stay there.”
He gets up, goes to his massive walk-in closet, and Chanyeol follows him with his eyes before sitting up when he disappears from view completely. It’s a moment later when he returns, pajama pants thrown on, another couple pairs in his hands.
“You look like, what, a large?” Junmyeon asks, sifting through the fabric.
“Um,” Chanyeol says. “I usually wear an extra-large.”
Junmyeon shoots him a look.
“Why?” Junmyeon asks.
“I like things baggy,” Chanyeol says quietly.
Junmyeon smiles, looks through the pants again before settling on a pair, throwing the rest to the side.
“Extra large it is,” Junmyeon says, and he crosses to the bed, peeling back the covers carefully.
“What are y—,” Chanyeol says, but he stops when Junmyeon grabs him by the foot, feeding his leg carefully through before grabbing the other and doing the same.
“Come on now,” Junmyeon says, snapping the elastic lightly against Chanyeol’s thighs. “Up.”
Chanyeol sits back, hands braced on the bed, as he lifts his hips and lets Junmyeon finish.
“Good,” Junmyeon says, and it sinks into Chanyeol’s skin. “Alright, lie back.”
Chanyeol does, and Junmyeon follows him, curling them into each other. Chanyeol doesn’t quite know what’s happening: at least before, he had a play book. He knew what he was supposed to do. But now...has he totally fucked it up?
“Have I totally fucked it up?” he asks quietly.
Junmyeon laughs, soft and sweet, and he turns Chanyeol over so that they face each other.
“No,” Junmyeon says. “You haven’t.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says.
“You might feel better with sleep,” Junmyeon says. “Do you want anything to drink? Or eat?”
“N-no,” Chanyeol says. “This is good.”
“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Now close your eyes.”
Chanyeol closes his eyes.
“That’s a good boy.”
He was trying his best not to break any laws, but traffic was a nightmare, and that tended to grate on his nerves. Chanyeol balanced his phone between his ear and his shoulder, waited for Sehun to answer.
“Hey,” Sehun said.
“Hey,” he said. “You home?”
“Yeah,” Sehun replied. “Why? Are you driving?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “Can I come see you?”
“Didn’t you have OR duty today?” Sehun said. “Aren’t you tired, Daddy?”
“Never too tired to see you,” Chanyeol said, and he could hear the smile through the line.
“Aren’t you the charmer?” Sehun said. “Did you get my message?”
“I did,” Chanyeol said. “I wanted to thank you properly.”
“Thank me for thanking you?” Sehun asked.
“We’re stuck in a thank loop,” Chanyeol said. “You know the only way to break out of that?”
“Sixty-nine?” Sehun said.
“You know me so well,” Chanyeol said.
“I’ll wash up,” Sehun said, and Chanyeol wished with all his heart that he could see the playful look on his face, see the little smile he was surely trying to hide. “See you soon, Daddy.”
The world is dark when he wakes. He’s momentarily confused, new surroundings and a new bed, but then he remembers. Remembers where he is. And with who.
He slips out of his pants before reaching across Junmyeon’s sleeping form to grab the lube from the bedside table. He’s wanton this way, the way everyone is allowed to be covered in night. Even if it was light enough to be day, Chanyeol wouldn’t know, with the curtains blocking everything out. Everything besides this. He stretches himself well, scissoring his fingers and biting across moans that sit wet on his lips.
Junmyeon stirs slowly, blinking awake as Chanyeol touches himself. He wonders if he makes a pretty picture, as pretty as Junmyeon does when he starts to sit up.
“Wha—” Junmyeon starts, voice crackly with sleep, but Chanyeol leans down, steals a kiss and then another.
“Please,” Chanyeol whispers.
Junmyeon looks in his eyes, lets his gaze run over Chanyeol like a touch. His face, his neck. His chest.
“Is this what you want?” Junmyeon asks. “Really?”
Chanyeol wants to let his body be his answer, twisting his fingers until he glances against his prostate. He whines.
“Say it,” Junmyeon says. “I don’t want you to regret it.”
“I want it,” Chanyeol breathes out.
Junmyeon reaches over blindly, wraps himself up carefully, and Chanyeol groans as he watches the movement.
“Get on top,” Junmyeon says, and it’s so soft that Chanyeol can barely hear it.
Still, he listens. And when Chanyeol slicks him up, reaching behind and positioning him, he’s lost all guilt, lost everything but this. He’s drowning in the moment, in the lightless world they’ve built together.
Chanyeol sinks down onto Junmyeon, finally connected, and Junmyeon breathes out unsteadily as Chanyeol moans quietly. He raises himself up, sinks back down again. Slow, slowly. It is midnight, or it is something that tastes like midnight. It bleeds in him, and he lets it overcome him. Desire. Lust.
He takes his time, twisting rolls of his hips as he moves on top of Junmyeon. It’s tense like pulled threads, the way they hold back. The way they make it last.
Chanyeol steadily increases his pace, driven by the way Junmyeon breathes, heavy and teased out. Pick it up, put it back down. Again. Again. Chanyeol throws his head back, lets his body do the work as Junmyeon holds him by the hips. He starts to thrust up into Chanyeol, meeting the movement. It’s perfect, the way they grind into each other in the blackness, into the quiet.
He lays his body down, chest against chest, and he raises up on his knees. Junmyeon fucks him, fucks him hard and fast, and Chanyeol moans into the kisses that he presses to Junmyeon’s chest. Chanyeol comes as he grinds into Junmyeon’s stomach, and Junmyeon follows soon after, pulsing inside Chanyeol as the world falls down around them.
After the cursory cleaning is done, condom thrown away, Junmyeon holds him. Soft. Careful. The sweat between them sticks, but it’s nice. It’s calm. Still waters.
“We’ll talk,” Junmyeon says gently, “in the morning.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says.
“Sleep now,” Junmyeon says.
“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and like a good baby, he listens.
Chanyeol took him shopping as often as his schedule would allow, delighted by the way Sehun bloomed under the attention. He couldn’t believe someone like Sehun could get any more beautiful, but he did, especially once he took clothes into the dressing room, beaming happily, Chanyeol sitting outside waiting as Sehun changed, emerging covered by various designers, sugar dripping off him.
“They’re cute, right?” Sehun asked, turning and admiring his ass in the 360-degree mirror, hugged tightly in leather pants.
“Very cute,” Chanyeol said, mouth watering.
“With a choker,” Sehun said, tilting his head to the side as if he was imagining it. “And my hair all messy. Eyeliner and shit.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “Yeah, you would look—”
Sehun turned, looked at him and smiled innocently.
“How would I look?” Sehun asked.
“Like a sin waiting to happen,” Chanyeol said.
Sehun smirked, crossed to him, leaned down and braced both hands on Chanyeol’s thighs.
“Yeah?” Sehun asked. “You like that?”
“I do,” Chanyeol said, moving forward to kiss Sehun softly.
Sehun responded in turn, taking it further and further until Sehun’s tongue was in his mouth, and he was moaning. Then, Sehun grabbed him by the hand, dragged him to his feet.
“Come on,” Sehun said, pulling him off to the dressing room.
“What are you doing?” Chanyeol laughed, pulling on Sehun’s hold.
“Sinning,” Sehun smirked.
The door closed behind them, and Sehun stripped out of his pants quickly before dropping to his knees.
“You’re evil,” Chanyeol gasped as Sehun started to mouth at Chanyeol’s crotch.
“Yeah,” Sehun said sweetly. “And you like it.”
When the morning comes, Chanyeol turns, and he takes Junmyeon in his arms, feeling dirty in the best way.
“You up?” Junmyeon whispers.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol whispers back.
There are quiet moments, passed back and forth as their breath starts to fall in rhythm with one another’s, and Chanyeol is glad for it. He smiles, and when Junmyeon finally turns to face him, Chanyeol feels ready.
He strokes fingers down Junmyeon’s chest, almost lovingly.
“So,” Junmyeon says. “Last night.”
Chanyeol squirms cheerfully, resettles himself in Junmyeon’s embrace so that he’s lying on Junmyeon’s chest, firm but soft.
“Pillow talk is my strong suit,” Chanyeol says happily.
“Is that what this is gonna be?” Junmyeon asks. “Thank God, I’ll have you to carry me through it.”
Chanyeol looks up, sees Junmyeon’s chin tilted up confidently, like he knows he already has Chanyeol wrapped around his finger. Does Sehun feel this way when he looks at Chanyeol? God, Chanyeol doubts it. Junmyeon looks...he looks domineering, and it’s hot, so hot that Chanyeol bites his lip against the sweep of flush that surely runs through him.
“You don’t like talking?” Chanyeol asks.
“Ah,” Junmyeon says, and he reaches up a hand, pulling through his hair, wet with sweat. “I’m trying to get better at it. I wanna be more...uninhibited.”
“Does that mean you’re repressed?” Chanyeol asks, snaking a hand down Junmyeon’s stomach. “Not sexually, obviously, but...”
Junmyeon laughs, and Chanyeol settles his head against Junmyeon’s chest again, feels it rumble through him.
“In previous relationships, yes,” Junmyeon says. “It was a point of contention.”
“Really?” Chanyeol says. “You seem...you seem so open.”
“I’m a work in progress,” Junmyeon says. “I’ve had babies before, only a couple, but...it’s always seemed to end badly because of my inability to give them what they needed. Never financially, but emotionally.”
“Oh,” Chanyeol says.
Chanyeol’s chin is lifted, a strong, sure hand.
“I’m gonna do my best with you,” Junmyeon says. “But if it’s ever...if it’s ever not working out, if the money isn’t enough and it’s too hard on you mentally, you end it. I mean, bring it up to me first, we can talk about it, but I don’t wanna keep someone who doesn’t wanna be there.”
“Y-yeah,” Chanyeol says, guilt in his heart and his eyes. “Of course.”
“Good boy,” Junmyeon says, and he leans down, kisses Chanyeol’s lips sweetly for several minutes, long enough that Chanyeol swallows down his bad feelings, a sweep of his tongue across Chanyeol’s lips just at the end before he pulls back.
Chanyeol whimpers, the praise coupled with affection enough to make him chase after it, enough to make him—
“Jesus,” Junmyeon says, staring down at Chanyeol’s body. “Already?”
“D-don’t,” Chanyeol says, twisting his legs to hide it.
“Ah, ah,” Junmyeon tuts, pushing Chanyeol’s legs flat, making his erection stand proud.
Chanyeol whines, the cool air whipped through the room by the ceiling fan enough to make his cock flex.
“Baby,” Junmyeon says, and he lifts a hand to Chanyeol’s mouth. “Spit.”
Chanyeol gathers saliva in his mouth, dutifully spits into Junmyeon’s hand as his body tenses. He knows what comes next.
“You sure you’ve never been a baby before?” Junmyeon asks, slipping a wet hand over the head of Chanyeol’s cock.
He pushes his hips up, meets the thrust once, twice, three times before Junmyeon pulls his hand away, watching Chanyeol expectantly. A question. A question that requires his answer.
“Never,” Chanyeol gasps.
Junmyeon lowers his hand back down, a hole for Chanyeol to fuck.
“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Junmyeon whispers. “And I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”
When he walked into his apartment, he saw shoes at the door. Not just any shoes, actually. They were the ugly-ass crystal Gucci slides. Chanyeol smiled. At least Sehun was using them, even if they weren’t to Chanyeol’s taste.
Immediately, he knew what it was. They had talked about it before: the fantasy. Chanyeol hadn’t thought it would be that weekend, but the surprise was part of it.
“Hon,” Chanyeol called. “I’m home.”
Sehun appeared like a fucking vision from around the corner, floating into the foyer on a cloud. A long pink silk robe, one Chanyeol didn’t recognize, was draped over him, tied loosely around the waist and hanging off one shoulder. He was barefoot, his legs were bare, his collarbone peeked out from beneath the fabric. He was done up, rosy-red lips and shining skin. Hair messy. Beautiful. Too beautiful, almost.
“Hi,” Sehun smiled, crossing to take Chanyeol in his arms. “I missed you, doll.”
Chanyeol trailed fingers down the soft skin of Sehun’s neck, following with gentle kisses.
“Missed you more,” Chanyeol said, lips dragging along the slope of skin.
Sehun grabbed him by the chin, dragged him close.
“No, you didn’t,” Sehun said, and then he was being kissed within an inch of his life, backed up against the door, one of Sehun’s thighs slipped through the robe and then slipped between Chanyeol’s thighs.
“I see you got comfortable while you waited for me,” Chanyeol commented, looking down between them, fingers playing with a hem.
“I have a talent,” Sehun smiled, “for getting comfortable.”
They smiled stupidly at each other, and fuck, Sehun was good.
“I’m so happy,” Chanyeol said against Sehun’s mouth. “I’m so glad you can stay over.”
“Feels like it’s been forever,” Sehun said. “We’ve been too busy.”
“Not this weekend, though,” Chanyeol said, his part of their script.
“Not this weekend,” Sehun agreed. “What do you wanna do?”
“You,” Chanyeol said, and Sehun smiled.
“Dinner first,” Sehun said, and he licked into Chanyeol’s mouth a final time, leaving him with a gasp, before pulling him to the kitchen.
There was food spread all across the counter, styrofoam takeout boxes and a pizza box. It smelled like grease, like Italian herbs, like comfort, and Chanyeol smiled.
“Didn’t feel like cooking,” Sehun said. “You don’t mind takeout, right?”
It was exactly what Chanyeol wanted.
“No,” Chanyeol said, and he took Sehun in his arms, kissing him on the neck again. “I don’t mind.”
They sat on the couch, paper plates piled high with deep-fried mozzarella sticks and wings, stringy slices of pizza barely fitting before they’re folded in two and devoured. Sehun’s feet rested in Chanyeol’s lap, and it was as domestic as it got, exactly what Chanyeol had been envisioning.
“Stay there,” Sehun said when they’d finished, gathering their plates and bringing them to the kitchen before returning with a beer, twisting the cap off in the palm of his hand. “Here.”
“Thank you,” Chanyeol said.
“I’m gonna run us a bath,” Sehun said as he leaned down, kissing Chanyeol on the forehead sweetly. “Drink that.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol said, watching as Sehun floated back out of the room, rivers of rose running behind him as he walked.
Chanyeol isn’t sure exactly what to do with the new card in his wallet, and he feels a bit guilty even using it, but he figures this is what he got involved for.
“You don’t need to do this,” Sehun grins happily, tossing a bag of kale into the cart.
“Gotta keep you fed,” Chanyeol says, pushing Sehun’s cart around.
“So good to me,” Sehun coos, picking up a long cellophane-wrapped English cucumber and completely missing the opportunity to make a joke about its incredibly phallic nature. He must really be happy about food shopping.
“Ah, I do what I can,” Chanyeol says as the blush rises to his cheeks.
They stroll through the produce section, and Sehun picks his fruits and vegetables as Chanyeol follows with the steadily filling cart. Sehun talks to the man behind the fish counter about salmon fillets, and he smiles at him prettily. Chanyeol is almost positive that the man isn’t gay, but Sehun has the type of face that can make anyone question it, judging by the way the man smiles shyly back.
When the time comes to pay for the full cart, Chanyeol slides the Centurion card out of his wallet slowly, even turns his back to Sehun to block him from seeing as he swipes it, but Sehun, ever the brat, just slides his chin over Chanyeol’s shoulder to stare.
“Ooh,” Sehun says. “New card.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “No big deal.”
“Please,” Sehun scoffs. “I know that card when I see it.”
“Yeah, well,” Chanyeol says.
“Didn’t know you were flush like that. You keeping secrets?” Sehun says, and Chanyeol can hear the smile. He’s instantly reminded that that’s why Sehun’s here. It’s sad, in a way, but in another way, he’s happy. He hasn’t gone completely delusional.
“Always,” Chanyeol says, and he grabs the receipt from the cashier, putting it and the card into his wallet.
Chanyeol laid back, head resting against Sehun’s chest. He sighed out, the air filled with the scent of roses as he breathed it in. He sank a little lower into the water.
“How’s that?” Sehun asked, arms wrapped around Chanyeol’s middle.
“Good,” Chanyeol said. “Really good.”
“Good,” Sehun said, and he tightens his hold around Chanyeol, dotting a kiss to the shell of his ear. “How was work?”
“Long,” Chanyeol said, wiggling his toes through the soap bubbles. “How was your day?”
“Okay,” Sehun said. “A lot better now.”
“Me too,” Chanyeol said, and just the feeling of Sehun’s skin on his was enough to bring him into the dream: the boyfriend fantasy. Having someone and being theirs.
“You wanna watch a movie?” Sehun asked, another kiss to Chanyeol’s ear.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, hands on Sehun’s across his stomach. “Whatever you want.”
“Okay,” Sehun said, and he wiggled in the tub, sending ripples and waves through the water.
“Stop,” Chanyeol smiled, “you’re gonna get water all over the floor.”
Sehun pressed open-mouthed kisses to the dip Chanyeol’s throat, had him arching and moaning into it.
“No nagging tonight,” Sehun said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
They washed each other carefully, hands slippery with soap over skin. It wasn’t their first time sharing a bath, but something felt different about it. The intention, Chanyeol supposed. This was a dream. A dream where they were together, not because Chanyeol was paying for it, but because they loved each other. Or at the very least, they were learning to love each other.
Sehun ordered a movie, one with a swelling romantic score and passionate declarations of love, and they held each other in bed as they watched, falling asleep cleanly before they got the chance to do anything else.
He waits, with anxiety in his stomach, for Junmyeon to comment on the groceries purchase, but the comment never comes. The only thing that comes are occasional texts and calls from Junmyeon, eager to set up a second date.
I’ve sent you something, Junmyeon writes, sweetening the deal. And Chanyeol smiles. Junmyeon really is generous. Maybe he could learn a thing or two about the whole daddy thing.
i’m free tomorrow night?, Chanyeol texts quickly. i know its short notice but if you’re available….also you don’t have to send anything
Chanyeol doesn’t have time to set down his phone before Junmyeon’s response comes.
Tomorrow night is perfect, he writes. And the package should be there by tonight. Let me know if I got the sizes right.
Later, Chanyeol gets a call from the front desk. He hustles down, picks it up, and goes back to his place to tear into the packaging.
It’s all streetwear: a denim jacket from Kith, a hoodie from Bronze 56K. He digs further into the box, finds a pair of Nike Air Skylon 2s, streaked with purple and blue. Perfectly retro. He smiles, confused, before trying everything on. Junmyeon must be some specific kind of genius, because it all fits like a glove, and it’s exactly his taste.
He grabs his phone, pulls Junmyeon’s number up and is about to text him before he decides at the last moment to tap the FaceTime button instead. It rings, and Chanyeol fusses with his hair before Junmyeon finally picks up, smiling brightly. He’s beautiful even through the sheet mask he’s wearing.
“Can’t say I expected this, baby,” Junmyeon says, peeling off the mask before he lays back in bed. “Did you get it?”
“I did,” Chanyeol says. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Ah, but I wanted to,” Junmyeon says, and he bites his lip. “I like making you look like that.”
Junmyeon scrunches up his nose cutely.
“You know. Happy.”
Chanyeol woke in the middle of the night, and Sehun was clinging to him in his sleep, their limbs all wrapped together. He smiled, huffed out a breath, brushed the hair away from Sehun’s face. He looked softest in sleep, his usually sharp features mellowed and curved, his natural beauty slightly less intimidating when his mouth hung open.
He watched as Sehun slept, gentle like a child, and he smiled again, unable to bite back a laugh when a little drool leaked at the corner of Sehun’s mouth. Adorable.
That was enough to stir him, and he blinked quickly rubbing his eyes, licking his lips.
“What are you doing?” Sehun asked blearily, getting rid of his sleep.
“Just looking at you,” Chanyeol said, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “Go back to sleep.”
Sehun resettled, tucked an arm under his head.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Sehun said softly.
Chanyeol leaned forward and kissed Sehun sweetly.
“Okay,” Chanyeol said, and they watched each other quietly, eyelids sleepily rising and falling.
They’d only been seeing each other for a couple months, but the longer it went on, the easier it got. Sehun was needy the way Chanyeol loved. They got each other. They were there for each other. And the longer it went on, the longer it felt like love to Chanyeol.
No, Chanyeol thought as Sehun’s eyes finally slipped back closed for good. It’s just a fantasy.
Still, he thought as he let his eyes close too, at least he could have the weekend. Even though it would end, he could appreciate it while it lasted.
Calling Junmyeon enchanting would be an understatement of the most extreme caliber.
Chanyeol wouldn’t be surprised if Junmyeon actually cried diamond dust with the way money seems no object to him. It’s mind-boggling, how little Chanyeol does and how much he gets in return. Packages show up at Chanyeol’s house periodically. Little thoughtful things like high-end sheet masks (which Chanyeol learns that Junmyeon has a small obsession with), bottles of wine with price tags that make Chanyeol gasp when he looks them up on Vivino, and even various trendy foot care items that Chanyeol has no experience with.
“When...when does it end?” Chanyeol asks, phone laid out on the countertop as he watches the dead skin wave off his heel, swishing his feet in the water of the bath.
“How long ago did you do it?” Junmyeon asks.
“Three days?” Chanyeol says.
“Ah,” Junmyeon says. “This is your prime peeling point.”
“This is gross,” Chanyeol says, staring down at his ugly feet.
“Just think about how soft they’ll be after!” Junmyeon says excitedly. “Like a baby’s butt.”
“If this is some excuse for me to give you a footjob…,” Chanyeol trails off.
“Then you’re putting your foot down?” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol can hear the awful joke coming before he even says it. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”
“I hate you,” Chanyeol says, rubbing at his feet.
“Aw,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t be so mean to Daddy.”
“No, I shouldn’t be,” Chanyeol says. “Not after dinner last week.”
He thinks back, lazily figure-eighting his feet in the water: Junmyeon holding him by the hand as they walked into the steakhouse, the red wine, their feet under the table, Junmyeon reaching across the table to take Chanyeol’s hand in his after he’d slipped his card to the waiter. The ride back to Junmyeon’s place. The silk ties around his ankles and wrists, the blindfold covering his eyes. Junmyeon pushing inside him, hand across Chanyeol’s mouth, unable to silence the moans that leaked out of him as Junmyeon thrust. Hard. Fucking him until they both came. Hard.
“You’re absolutely right,” Junmyeon says smugly, interrupting Chanyeol’s recollections. “I spoiled you, didn’t I?”
Chanyeol’s stomach flares with heat, with the memory of it. Junmyeon’s cock brushing against his prostate. He shivers.
“Yes, Daddy,” Chanyeol says obediently.
“This weekend,” Junmyeon says, “what would you say if I invited you to go see a show with me? And maybe a nightcap at your place?”
And that gives Chanyeol pause. There’s something incredibly intimate about inviting someone into your home, and even though Junmyeon knows so much about him, has seen him in some of his most vulnerable moments, it feels like something he should stop. But he can’t. Can’t stop it. More importantly, though, he doesn’t want to stop it.
“It’s not as nice as your place,” Chanyeol warns.
“Not yet, at least,” Junmyeon says, and God, Chanyeol is so into him, into the unfailing confidence, into the casual dominance, into the gentle way he knows how to guide Chanyeol to his knees. Into the way he wants to give Chanyeol the whole fucking world.
“Shut up,” Chanyeol scoffs, but he feels himself falling all over again.
“I’ll send a car for you,” Junmyeon says. “And I’ll text you all the details. Will you look pretty for me, baby?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and he realizes: the way he can’t say no to Junmyeon? It’s the exact same way he can’t say no to Sehun.
Time passed quickly when you weren’t looking or when you were busy doing something you liked. Sehun’s spring semester started, and Chanyeol happily paid the tuition without even thinking about it.
“Thank you,” Sehun said, head laying in Chanyeol’s lap.
“Happy to do it,” Chanyeol said, and he scratched his fingernails through Sehun’s hair.
He purred happily, the sun shining on his skin. It was a beautiful day, clear blue sky with no clouds. The blanket under them was soft. He had prepped the night before, and the food laid out before them was testament to that: avocado toast, turkey and provolone sandwiches. Homemade iced tea. Individual juice boxes of wine. Chocolate chip cookies from the tube. The kind he liked best.
“This is perfect,” Sehun said, and Chanyeol was inclined to agree. Chanyeol looked down at Sehun fondly, and then Sehun looked up at him, smiled. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said. “Of course.”
“I love dates with you,” Sehun said with his eyes shut, and it hit Chanyeol hard. He didn’t know why. They were dates, after all, but something about hearing the word felt so right.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, leaning back on his hands. “Me too.”
Sehun opened one eye, a grin on his face.
“Cookie, please,” Sehun said, opening his mouth.
Chanyeol rolled his eyes, but he indulged Sehun anyway. It was a pattern etched in stone by that point, but Chanyeol loved running his fingers over the dips and grooves all the same.
Autumn settles over the city in maple and ash leaves, the warmth in their tones contrasting with the chill in the air.
When Chanyeol gets into the back of the car ordered for him, there is a jewelry box waiting for him on the seat. The gifts are almost too much at this point, but is it all that wrong to love it? Being pampered like this is delicious, and for as much of a disaster as he is, he loves being on this side of the equation. Maybe even likes it more than being on the other side.
He slides into the car, shuts the door behind him, and the driver doesn’t speak, just starts rolling as Chanyeol buckles up.
He pops open the small olive box to find a set of rings. Rose gold. Interlocking G’s.
Chanyeol’s stomach drops so violently that he thinks he might need to vomit. Good lord, he thinks to himself, resting his head against the cool glass of the window, just what have I gotten myself into?
Chanyeol knew, by a certain point, that he was in too deep with Sehun. It just happened to be when Sehun was balls-deep in him, pulling Chanyeol back onto his cock, holding him by the arms.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Sehun said over Chanyeol’s shouts, moans punched from the core of his body. “How’s that?”
“Good,” Chanyeol cried. “Good.”
“How good?” Sehun huffed, and by then, Chanyeol knew what it sounded like when he was on the edge of orgasm. Voice trembling with effort. Breaths coming fast.
“So good,” Chanyeol whined.
“Tell me, Daddy,” Sehun said.
“So good,” Chanyeol cried again, and as he began to cry, orgasm washing over him in waves, he couldn’t ignore that he liked Sehun for more than this, for more than a way to forget about himself for a couple hours. For more than the company. He liked him. Liked him genuinely. Loved him. Loved him.
Sehun hoisted him back, came with three great thrusts into Chanyeol’s body before collapsing to the bed, crushing Chanyeol into the mattress. He kissed Chanyeol wetly on the back of the neck, licking away all the sweat messily.
“You taste good,” Sehun sighed.
“You’re such an idiot,” Chanyeol laughed.
“Yeah,” Sehun said. “But only for you, Daddy.”
Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut, tried not to let it settle comfortably in his heart.
The moon is covered with the shadow of clouds, but the artificial light from the streets keep Junmyeon’s face easy to read, even in darkness.
“What did you think?” Junmyeon asks, fingers laced with Chanyeol’s as they walk to the car.
“Bit out of the ordinary,” Chanyeol says. “But I really enjoyed it. That soprano was crazy.”
“She was. I’m glad you liked it. It’s always hard to find someone who doesn’t mind doing theater,” Junmyeon says.
“Well, you know me. Cultured as fuck,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon laughs, their feet tip-tapping against the pavement as they approach Junmyeon’s Mercedes, and he squeezes Chanyeol’s hand in his before he runs his thumb along Chanyeol’s fingers.
“Did you get the rings?” Junmyeon asks, looking forward.
“I did,” Chanyeol says, and he ducks his head. “Thank you.”
Junmyeon leans him up against the passengers side door as he stands on the curb, evening their height just a touch. It’s nice, not tilting his head down just to look Junmyeon in the eyes.
“Did you not like them?” Junmyeon asks, and he plays with Chanyeol’s fingers, strokes along where they’re bare. “If you didn’t, I can get you something else.”
Chanyeol closes the gap. Takes a kiss. And another. Junmyeon gives them as freely as he gives everything else.
“I like them,” Chanyeol says. “You have nice taste. Very pretty.”
“I guess I’m stuck in my ways,” Junmyeon says. “I knew they aren’t really your style, but something about them...I don’t know. I just really wanted to get them for you.”
Chanyeol shuts his eyes, tries not to let Sehun’s face pop into his head as he leans up again, snaking his tongue with Junmyeon’s as he lets his hands fall to Junmyeon’s waist. It is a cold night for this time of year, and Junmyeon huddles into him, takes warmth and gives it back.
“Come on,” Junmyeon says, hugging Chanyeol close. “Let’s head home.”
The drive is short, and they slip into Chanyeol’s apartment under the quiet of the night, and Chanyeol shuts the door behind them, throwing the lock. By that time, Junmyeon has already toed out of his dress shoes at the rug, and Chanyeol quickly follows suit. Chanyeol knows he will be getting fucked well tonight, and the certainty of it makes him relax, shoulders rolling back.
He watches as Junmyeon looks around, hands in his dress pockets, and he feels like his entire life is under a microscope. For the second time, he tries to look at his things as if he was looking at them for the first time: what does it all say about me, he wonders. What will he find?
“It’s nice,” Junmyeon comments, strolling into the living area. “Really nice.”
“Ah,” Chanyeol says, hand on the back of his neck. “I guess.”
“You do well for yourself,” Junmyeon says. “I like that.”
He walks to Chanyeol’s bookcase, lets his index finger stroke along the spines of the books. Chanyeol can feel that finger, a phantom presence stroking lightly, teasingly along his own spine. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“You don’t have to feel uncomfortable,” Junmyeon says, eyes on the titles. “I won’t ever judge you for what you have or what you don’t have. And I won’t ever try to change the details of our arrangement.”
“I know you won’t,” Chanyeol says. “I—”
Junmyeon turns, and he looks so—so good, the most casually dressed Chanyeol has ever seen him. A simple hunter green sweater, black dress pants that cling to his legs. A pair of fashionable glasses. His hair pushed back. Chanyeol loves looking at him because he is so very good to look at.
“You what?” Junmyeon prompts.
“I’—I’m just happy we’re together,” Chanyeol says. “I’m happy I found you.”
Junmyeon’s eyes go wide for a moment, and a blush rises to his face and up through to his ears.
“Oh,” Junmyeon says stiffly. “That’s...thank you.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, feeling a bit awkward. “No problem.”
It seems to have caught Junmyeon by surprise, the frankness of it, so Chanyeol tries to right the ship the only way he knows how.
He steps forward, taking Junmyeon by the shoulders, and he flattens him against the bookshelf.
Chanyeol wedges a thigh between Junmyeon’s, distracts him with a kiss, running his hands in swathes along Junmyeon’s sides. When he pulls back, satisfied with his work, he sees Junmyeon frown.
“Hey,” Chanyeol says. “What’s wrong?”
Junmyeon shuts his eyes, looks distinctly uncomposed for a moment before it falls away.
“I just wanted to say...I just want to be clear with you, okay?” he says, fists against Chanyeol’s chest.
“Yeah, okay,” Chanyeol says, and he rubs circles into Junmyeon’s back.
“I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I’ve made in the past,” Junmyeon says into the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt. “Not with you.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “If it was too much, too soon, I’m sorry, or if it’s too much at all...we can—”
“No,” Junmyeon says firmly. “It’s not too much. It’s not too soon.”
Chanyeol hugs him tight. Attempts to say something that way.
“Are you sure?” Chanyeol asks.
“I’m sure. I just...I—I’m still not used to feeling this way,” Junmyeon says.
Junmyeon looks between them, at their clasped hands.
Chanyeol’s heart flutters warmly in his chest, and he tries to bite back the smile, but ultimately, he thinks he fails, judging by the way Junmyeon smiles back at him. Chanyeol pulls him into a kiss, frighteningly full of emotion. Which emotions...Chanyeol isn’t sure.
“Come on,” Chanyeol says, mouth against Junmyeon’s. “Let me show you the bedroom.”
Junmyeon smirks against Chanyeol’s lips, and he lets himself be guided, walking in after Chanyeol opens the door.
“Very nice,” Junmyeon says as he crosses the room, and he sits at the end of the bed, legs spread wide. “Bed’s a little small, though.”
“Not all of us have California kings,” Chanyeol laughs, and he moves to Junmyeon, looking down at him.
Junmyeon pulls him in, pulls them to the bed together.
“No,” Junmyeon says, lips on Chanyeol’s neck. “But you will, soon enough.”
The museum was bustling, busy with late night foot traffic and the music of live entertainers. He’d met Sehun there on the steps, and he looked as radiant as he usually did, practically modelling as he stood there and waited. He grinned though, boxy and cute, when Chanyeol approached him, offering him a hand before they walked in.
“This is a nice way to celebrate summer,” Sehun said.
“Yes, it is,” Chanyeol said. “And congratulations are in order, aren’t they? Officially in your senior year now.”
“Yep, almost through,” Sehun smiled.
“How do you think you did on exams?” Chanyeol asked.
“Very well,” Sehun said confidently. “Rest assured, I’m spending your money well.”
Chanyeol smirked at him as they walked through the halls, quiet as they found their way to the current touring exhibit, slowing their gait to a stroll as they looked and read.
“God,” Sehun said, looking at the Edo-era painting of a deer underneath the crescent moon.
“Amazing, huh?” Chanyeol asked, and he laced his arm around Sehun’s waist, chin resting on Sehun’s shoulder as they observed together.
“Yeah,” Sehun said breathlessly. “Crazy that something can last so long and still stay so…”
“Beautiful,” Chanyeol finished.
“Yeah,” Sehun said. “Beautiful.”
Chanyeol kissed Sehun on the cheek, and he watched as a blush rose through him.
They stayed there for several moments more, the gentle brushstrokes in the fur almost mesmerizing. He realized that you could lose yourself in those small details, small moments of perfection that felt like a year, a decade of beauty.
“Come on,” Sehun said once they’d finished strolling through the exhibit, pulling him towards the stairs. “I’ll let you buy me a glass of wine.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol smiled.
“Yeah,” Sehun said. “Something with bubbles. Doesn’t that feel so right?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, grinning like a fool as Sehun dragged him upstairs to the bar. “It does.”
As weeks pass, October turns to November, the Centurion card in his wallet and the Rolex on his wrist heavy with the weight of what he’s doing, Chanyeol feels it become more and more challenging. And it isn’t just the constant battle with himself over whether or not it’s a good idea: there just aren’t enough hours in his day to fulfill everyone’s expectations. More plates are added to the bar resting across his shoulders. It’s no longer a question if whether things will break bad; it’s a question of when.
When Sehun calls that evening, he’s busy sending a picture of himself to Junmyeon. He grimaces, quickly hits send, and then answers.
“Daddy,” Sehun whines. “Where have you been?”
“Ah,” Chanyeol sighs. “Sorry, baby. Just been really busy.”
“With work?” Sehun asks.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “It’s been hectic lately. Lots of people need to be put to sleep.”
“Me, especially,” Sehun says. “And you know what helps me sleep?”
“Coming in my ass?” Chanyeol snorts.
“That and half a bottle of wine,” Sehun says. “Please? Can I come over? I had such a long week, and I missed you so much, Daddy.”
Chanyeol thinks it over: he has been putting Sehun on the back burner, which is completely ridiculous, considering he’s the entire reason Chanyeol got together with Junmyeon in the first place. He needs start putting his priorities in order. He needs to focus on what matters: keeping Sehun.
“Yeah, of course,” Chanyeol says. “Come over.”
“Really?” Sehun asks.
“Come on,” Chanyeol scoffs. “Have I ever said no to you?”
Sehun laughs lightly, and Chanyeol feels his heart melt. It’s been too long.
“Not that I can remember, but there’s a first time for everything,” Sehun says.
“Not with you,” Chanyeol says, and there’s no lie there.
“Make sure that bougie bottle of Cab Sauv is in the wine fridge.” Sehun tells him. “We’re celebrating tonight.”
A gift from Junmyeon. Chanyeol walks over, grabs it, slides the bottle into the chiller.
“Oh yeah? What are we celebrating?” Chanyeol asks, shutting the door and smiling. Sehun has that effect on him.
There is a pause that doesn’t feel particularly kind, so it sets Chanyeol on edge immediately. Why would Sehun be mad? What has he missed?
“Nothing in particular,” Sehun says. “Just being together is enough, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “You’re right. It is. Let’s celebrate.”
He knew that he’d have to stop. He was so deep, so willing to do anything, spend anything, just to spend more time with Sehun.
“Ew,” Sehun said, putting the little glass back on the flight board. “You won’t like that.”
“No?” Chanyeol smiled. “Why not?”
“Way too much hops for you,” Sehun said before grabbing another glass and giving it to Chanyeol. “Here, this one is more your speed.”
It was pale in color, a light amber, and when he tasted it, it was mostly orange that he got. He hummed happily: his favorite kind of beer was the kind that didn’t really taste like beer at all.
“I knew it,” Sehun said, “you coward.”
“We all have our tastes,” Chanyeol said, nose in the air. “Some tastes just happen to be wrong.”
“Yeah,” Sehun smiled. “Yours.”
“You’re such a brat,” Chanyeol said, slapping him on the hand lightly.
“Your brat,” Sehun smiled, and God, it carved Chanyeol up so easily. Who was he anymore, so fucked up over a college kid? So wrapped up, financially and emotionally? And so fast?
In the end, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was falling in love with Sehun, more and more with every passing minute.
He opens his door for Sehun, and he is momentarily stunned by how beautiful he is. The differences between he and Junmyeon are pulled into sharp contrast in a split second. Both slender, lean and toned, but Sehun stands much closer to Chanyeol’s height. Junmyeon’s gaze is so penetrating, but his face is so soft. Sehun’s face is sharper, but his eyes are so kind.
And they...they’re different in a lot of ways, yes, but in a lot of ways, Chanyeol thinks, they’re similar.
“Hi,” Sehun says shyly.
“Hi,” Chanyeol says before moving aside. “Come in.”
There’s something different about him as he moves, and it isn’t just the way he’s dressed up for a night in. He’s standing tall, his full height, and he’s moving with all the grace he knows. Sehun could be a model, probably should be a model with the way he knows how to make anything look designer.
Chanyeol guides him to the kitchen with a hand on the small of his back.
“Did you cook for me?” Sehun asks, delighted by the plates laid out.
“No,” Chanyeol smiles. “Figured you deserved something special so I ordered from the breakfast all day place you like.”
Sehun turns, biting down on his smile.
“Yeah?” he asks, and he winds his arms around Chanyeol’s neck.
Chanyeol’s hands go to Sehun’s waist as if they were magnetized to it, a natural attraction.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun leans in with a smirk, lets his mouth hover above the collar of Chanyeol’s shirt.
“You get me the banana macadamia pancakes?” Sehun asks, lips barely brushing against Chanyeol’s skin.
“With the brown sugar butter and cinnamon whipped cream on the side,” Chanyeol says, hands squeezing Sehun around the middle.
“Such a good daddy,” Sehun whispers, and it moves over Chanyeol’s neck, and Sehun chases it, licks the words away and sucks a kiss there. “So good at spoiling me.”
“F-fuck,” Chanyeol says, because it is good with Junmyeon, so good, but with Sehun, it’s different. It feels like...it feels like everything to him.
Sehun backs him up against the wall, and he skims his hands all over Chanyeol’s body, up his sides, petting him. Chanyeol throws his head back, ultimate access as Sehun kisses and licks and sucks his way along Chanyeol’s throat.
“I guess you didn’t forget after all,” Sehun says, pressing his body into Chanyeol’s. “I’m glad. I didn’t wanna make things awkward, but it—it meant a lot to me.”
Didn’t forget, Chanyeol thinks. What didn’t I forget?
He racks his brain as he moans out encouragements, the sinuous grind of their bodies almost enough to wipe his mind totally blank when it hits him: their anniversary. Fuck.
“I got you something, Daddy,” Sehun moans. “A present.”
Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut. Thank God he planned ahead.
“Good thing,” Chanyeol moans back. “I got you a present too.”
Sehun gasps, and it’s easy to lose it in his own sounds of pleasure.
“You got me a present?” Sehun says, mischievous, cute. “And here I thought you forgot.”
Sehun sinks to his knees, gazing up at Chanyeol as he paws at Chanyeol’s belt.
“Baby, dinner,” Chanyeol whines. “It’s gonna get cold.”
“This is half of your present, Daddy,” Sehun says, and he takes his time as he unzips Chanyeol’s pants, pulling Chanyeol’s cock through the slit in his boxer briefs before he looks up at him and pouts. “Don’t you want it?”
God help him, he’s never wanted anything more.
Sehun is fucking quicksand.
Whenever he’s around, Chanyeol can think of nothing but him, and whenever that happens, he often forgets the reason he’s able to keep him around.
“It’s nice to see you,” Junmyeon says, pulling out Chanyeol’s chair for him. “Long day?”
“Excruciatingly long,” Chanyeol says, sitting down and throwing his napkin over his lap.
“Ah, I figured it might be,” Junmyeon says, and he sits down, across from Chanyeol. “How’d everything turn out? I mean, I know you can’t give details but…”
Chanyeol mentions in passing when he has a long day ahead of him, but Junmyeon remembers all his bitching, takes it to heart. It’s...it’s sweet. And it goes right to Chanyeol’s heart.
“It all turned out well, much easier than I thought. I only look subpar. Are you sure you don’t mind me...like this?” Chanyeol asks.
He gestures to himself, because honestly, his work ensemble is nothing to get your panties wet over.
“Of course not,” Junmyeon says. His eyes rake over Chanyeol’s body, and he feels as if Junmyeon can see right through him. Through his skin, into his bones.
“You’re positive?” Chanyeol needles. “If you want, I can go home and change.”
“You’ll stay right where you are, you will drink a glass of wine, and you will relax after a long day of work,” Junmyeon says, and it all sounds good to Chanyeol, so who is he to argue?
“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and he ducks his head, trying to hide the smile.
“You really are so handsome like that,” Junmyeon comments, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap. “When you’re pleased.”
Chanyeol looks at him across the candlelight and the tablecloth and the gentle piano in the background. His eyes shimmer, the light playing off the warmth in them, making the chestnut brown look auburn and fiery-sweet. His hair is swept back and styled. Junmyeon looks every bit as rich as he is, every bit as handsome as the day Chanyeol met him. Now, Chanyeol knows, he is thoughtful. He is kind. He is genuine. And that only adds to his beauty, makes him more beautiful, impossibly.
It hits him in the stomach.
He knows what this is. Should know it well enough by now. A shock runs through every fiber of his being at the realization.
“What’s wrong?” Junmyeon asks. “Are you cold? Should I get them to turn the heat up?”
Chanyeol reaches across the table and he rubs his thumb against the back of Junmyeon’s hand when he takes it in his.
“I’m fine,” Chanyeol says, but he isn’t fine. Not fine in the least.
Because as they eat, a weeknight date that leaves Chanyeol with butterflies in his stomach, he is forced to reconcile the fact that he has a crush on his Daddy.
A big one, too.
The summer passed in a flurry of spending and sex, a recipe for disaster if Chanyeol knew anything about finances.
He got the first letter from his bank as Sehun was lying across his bed, complaining.
“Listen, you’re the one who said you wanted to go,” Chanyeol said, unfolding the letter and letting his eyes scan over the text: overdrawn account. He swallowed thickly, grabbing his phone.
“Well, that’s because it would be silly for you to go to a wedding all on your lonesome,” Sehun said. “Especially when you got a plus one, and there’s an open bar.”
“Yes,” Chanyeol said, clicking through to his banking app, “you do love free alcohol.”
“You know me so well,” Sehun said lightly, but Chanyeol’s face must bleed the panic through his pores, because Sehun sits up straight. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Chanyeol said, even though his savings was fucking gone, even though he was on the edge of not being able to afford it anymore.
“You sure?” Sehun asked, and he pushed up off the bed to come stand in front of Chanyeol.
That was the moment. That was the split second of time when Chanyeol’s decided that it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. And it wasn’t his dick that made the decision. It was his heart. He would keep Sehun, no matter what it cost.
“I’m sure,” Chanyeol said, chucking his phone onto the bed before gathering Sehun in his arms. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting a shower?”
“Yeah,” Sehun said, pressing himself into Chanyeol in a precious thin line. “God, weddings get me hot, though.”
“So you wanna shower together?” Chanyeol asked, eager to forget about his troubles for a while.
“Yeah,” Sehun said, and he wore a sleazy grin on his face. “Might as well get dirty before we get clean.”
Dates with Junmyeon get progressively worse, only because they get so, so much better. The realization that he likes Junmyeon, genuinely likes him gets him weak in the knees every time Junmyeon so much as touches his hand, brushes against him, holds his cheek in the palm of his hand.
And where sex was good, great, even...
“Please,” Chanyeol whines, collapsing his body on top of Junmyeon’s, caging him in with his arms. “Kiss me.”
“Earn it, baby,” Junmyeon says.
“Daddy,” Chanyeol whimpers. “I’m tired. I can’t.”
“So spoiled,” Junmyeon says, and his hands go to Chanyeol’s hip bones, holding them tight as he starts to move for Chanyeol. “You want me to do all the work?”
Chanyeol can’t speak, the slow rotation of Junmyeon’s hips enough to put pause in his chest. He can only heave breaths, nod his head into Junmyeon’s chest as he sobs. He hears Junmyeon sigh as he moves, positioning Chanyeol to sit up on his knees so that he can thrust up so hard that he almost knocks Chanyeol off balance.
“Fuck,” Chanyeol curses. “More. More.”
“So needy,” Junmyeon says, feet planted on the bed as he moves.
“Yes,” Chanyeol cries, “Yes.”
“What do you want?” Junmyeon asks. “Tell me again.”
“Kiss me,” Chanyeol says. “Please, kiss me.”
One of Junmyeon’s hands comes to grab Chanyeol by the jaw, looking him in the eyes for a few tense, beautiful seconds. Chanyeol is deep, so fucking deep in his crush on this man that when Junmyeon pulls him into a kiss, it’s electric. Wet, hot, deep, and fuck, Chanyeol only has a split second to grab himself, stroking hard and fast, before he’s spilling out over Junmyeon’s stomach and chest.
At night, when he isn’t actively dating one of the two men that seem to eat up all his free time, he is trying to decide what to do about the matter.
As it stands, he is being torn in half. He sees Sehun too much, and then it flips. He wants both of them. He’s greedy. Wants everything. Wants too much.
Sehun is...Sehun’s everything to him. Beautiful and fun to be around and a good lay, and more than any of that, he is kind. But he’s being paid, isn’t he? He wants the money that Chanyeol no longer has.
Junmyeon, he’s perfect, certainly isn’t anything less than Sehun, and he’s richer than God. And the way he wants Chanyeol is obvious. But would he feel the same if he knew?
Chanyeol loves Sehun, it’s silly to pretend he’s ever felt otherwise, and he’s well on his way to loving Junmyeon.
He knows he’ll have to stop soon. Because living like this, he can barely remember who he’s paying for and who he’s being paid by.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” Junmyeon says.
Chanyeol rests his phone between his shoulder and his ear, searching through his refrigerator. He was shitty at finding things to make for dinner, but luckily for him, Junmyeon had recently covered that for him: November marked the start of his HomeChef subscription.
“Whatever you need, Daddy,” Chanyeol says, grabbing the prepackaged meal of Thai turkey lettuce wraps from the crisper drawer.
“I’d like you to spend the weekend,” Junmyeon says, “if you’re free, of course.”
He nearly drops the elements of his meal to the floor.
“The whole weekend?” Chanyeol asks.
“Ideally,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol can hear the smile. “Again, only if you’re free. I’m not sure what your work schedule is like this weekend.”
“I’m free,” Chanyeol says immediately, the thought of spending days in bed with Junmyeon too good to pass up.
“Excellent,” Junmyeon says. “Should I pick you up Friday night?”
“I’ll drive,” Chanyeol says.
“Then I’ll see you Friday,” Junmyeon says.
“Yes, you will,” Chanyeol says, and when he hangs up, he clutches the phone to his chest.
As soon as Junmyeon takes his bag, things feel different. Different, but reminiscent.
“How was work?” Junmyeon asks.
“Good,” Chanyeol says, toeing out of his shoes by the door. “Really good. Sorry, I’m sure I smell like hospital.”
“Do you wanna shower?” Junmyeon asks. “Or maybe a bath? I got that Laura Mercier fig honey soak. Or you could take one of the bath bombs.”
“Are we headed anywhere?” Chanyeol asks.
Junmyeon smirks, goes up on his tiptoes to throw his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, fingers playing with the lobe of Chanyeol’s ear.
“I may have made a reservation,” Junmyeon says. “Just in case.”
“Right,” Chanyeol smiles. “Just in case.”
“We always have the option of staying in, of course,” Junmyeon says. “All up to you.”
“Little ol’ me?”
He sneaks down, kisses Junmyeon hello. Lets a moan reverberate between them.
“Feels like it’s been forever,” Junmyeon says quietly, like a secret.
“I know. But now you’ve got me here,” Chanyeol says. “What are you gonna do with me?”
Junmyeon takes him by the hand, leads him to the bathroom.
“Wash up well,” Junmyeon says with intent. “For dinner...Italian or—”
“Italian,” Chanyeol says quickly.
Junmyeon kisses him with a grin.
“Go ahead now,” Junmyeon says. “Dinner will be here by the time you get out.”
Chanyeol has had all of the supposed aphrodisiacs in the world: ginseng, oysters, figs, chocolate, strawberries. But none of them come close to this.
“Well,” Junmyeon says, twirling his fork around in the last bit of his pasta, “I’m glad you enjoyed.”
“I mean, this wasn’t just the best lasagna I’ve ever had,” Chanyeol says, shoving the last forkful into his mouth. “This is the best lasagna that anyone’s ever had.”
“Lucky you,” Junmyeon smiles.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, “lucky me.”
Chanyeol sits patiently, as instructed, while Junmyeon clears the dishes. And when they retire to the living room, Junmyeon puts on a movie as Chanyeol settles between his legs.
“Comfortable?” Junmyeon asks, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s body.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and he’s never meant it more.
They make it halfway through The Terminal before Chanyeol leans his head back to watch Junmyeon watch the movie.
“Eyes front, soldier,” Junmyeon smirks.
“No,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon looks down at Chanyeol, eyes judging, and a shiver runs through Chanyeol, a shiver that Junmyeon can surely feel.
“No,” Chanyeol says.
“Be good tonight for me,” Junmyeon says, and he lowers, speaks directly to the shell of Chanyeol’s ear. “I wanna spoil you, baby.”
Chanyeol shuts his eyes, lets it wash over him. What could that entail? He’s got some ideas, but doesn’t know exactly. What he does know is that he’s going to find out.
He turns in Junmyeon’s arms, licks along Junmyeon’s lips until Junmyeon opens to him, lets Chanyeol play with his tongue. It’s hot, almost virginal compared to some of the shit they do. Chanyeol groans at the thought and gets up onto his knees before he straddles Junmyeon, ass against Junmyeon’s dick.
“Did you miss it?” Junmyeon asks, hands in Chanyeol’s hair, bringing him down.
Chanyeol barely has a chance to breathe out his yes before Junmyeon is tugging him into another kiss, blistering and grinding in pace. Chanyeol gets hard when Junmyeon starts leaking his pretty little sounds onto Chanyeol’s tongue, so sweet when he swallows them down.
“Ah, fuck,” Junmyeon says, cursing before he pushes his hips up into Chanyeol, circling them there.
He bites Chanyeol’s lower lip between his teeth until Chanyeol whimpers, and that must be enough.
Junmyeon stands them both up, walks them back towards the master bedroom.
“Wait for me on the bed, okay?” Junmyeon says as he walks to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute or two.”
“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll be waiting. Right here.”
Junmyeon smiles, before adding, “no touching.”
Chanyeol throws his head back before thumping back onto the bed, hearing the door close with Junmyeon’s light laughter.
The door opens, and Chanyeol sits up straight to see Junmyeon standing there, staring at him. His body is wet, hair dry. He must have rinsed off quickly, because Chanyeol barely had time to think about how well the night was going.
God, Chanyeol thinks. He is so gorgeous.
“You didn’t take off your clothes,” Junmyeon says as he walks over to the bed.
“N-no,” Chanyeol swallows. “Should I have?”
“No,” Junmyeon smiles. “I like doing it myself.”
“Then get over here,” Chanyeol says, and his fingers slip against Junmyeon’s skin, the water slicking the way as he pulls him close. “And do it.”
“Are you calling the shots tonight?” Junmyeon smiles.
“Can I?” Chanyeol whispers.
Junmyeon leans down, brushing his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He feels like a cat, purring under the affection.
“Of course, baby,” Junmyeon says. “Just tell me what you want.”
“I want you to lie down,” Chanyeol says. “And I want you to close your eyes.”
Junmyeon obeys him, and the power thrums through him like water tickling its way through his hair. Chanyeol holds himself up over Junmyeon, looking his fill while he could. There was something so magical about him. So elegant.
“What are you doing?” Junmyeon asks, and he smiles, eyes still patiently closed.
“Looking at you,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon flicks his eyes open, a wild grin on his face.
“Is that all you’re planning on doing?” Junmyeon asks. “Looking?”
Chanyeol just smiles, smiles through the kisses he lays on Junmyeon’s neck, chest, stomach. Smiles as he licks at Junmyeon’s cock. Smiles as he slicks his fingers, pushes them in with a pleased, happy moan. Smiles as he rolls the condom on, smiles as he sinks down onto Junmyeon’s cock.
He does a lot more than look, but look is all he can seem to do when Junmyeon comes, radiant. Resplendent.
They walk through the park, hatted and gloved and scarfed, and it is incredibly easy for him to pretend that Junmyeon is his boyfriend. They go for lunch, a quiet little cafe. They hold hands over the table, drink cappuccinos and eat their tiramisu. And it’s so calm, so normal.
Later that night, he sits on the bed waiting patiently for a repeat of the previous night, but when Junmyeon comes out of the bathroom, he is fully dressed in his stupidly perfect pajamas, slippers on his feet.
“Do you wanna use my moisturizer?” he asks.
“Uh,” Chanyeol says. “I think I’m good?”
“Oh, you want a mask instead?” Junmyeon asks.
He walks to the little refrigerator on the far side of the bedroom and starts rifling through one of the drawers before he picks one for himself.
“It’s been getting colder. Are you feeling dry?” he asks, back turned to Chanyeol as he’s hunched over. “I’ve got plenty of hyaluronic acid ones.”
“Sure,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll take one if you’re gonna do one.”
Junmyeon shuts the door, stands, and turns with a smile.
“I like you,” Junmyeon says.
“I—I like you too,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon’s smile is bright like the sun, and when he throws the mask to Chanyeol, he starts tearing at his own.
The room is quiet as they lay there, the serums sinking into their skin, next to each other but not quite touching. Chanyeol is so used to them constantly touching. It’s strange, but it’s...it’s good. He closes his eyes as the time passes, ticking off the clock, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep.
“Hey,” Junmyeon prods him. “Don’t fall asleep with that on in my bed.”
Chanyeol groans, swats at him.
“This is nice, though, isn’t it?” Junmyeon asks.
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says sleepily. “It is.”
The quiet returns, but not for long.
“I—I think I like you,” Junmyeon says.
“You said,” Chanyeol says, eyes closed, the mask crinkling as his face moves to a smile.
“I mean it seriously,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol opens his eyes, sees Junmyeon peeling off his mask.
“Oh yeah?” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon leans over, peels Chanyeol’s mask off for him.
“Yeah,” he says. “I want this. I want...I want you. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says breathlessly. “It does.”
Junmyeon smiles, pressing a kiss to Chanyeol’s lips.
“Rub that in,” Junmyeon says as he walks to the bathroom. “And then close your eyes. Bed time.”
Chanyeol knows that he’s easy in love, but this is too much, this is too fast.
Hasn’t it been fast from the very beginning, though? He wanted to keep himself from falling, but fall he did. And now here he is, pinned underneath Junmyeon, wishing he could stay forever.
“Shh,” Junmyeon hushes him. “Go to sleep. You’re tired.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees.
“We’ll get bagels tomorrow,” Junmyeon says.
“Yay,” Chanyeol cheers, hushed, and he floats off to sleep, thinking about cream cheese, lox, and being head over heels in love. Twice.
Sunday morning comes, and as he parts from Junmyeon, they both wear grins.
“Maybe Thursday?” Junmyeon says. “I’ll get tickets for the ballet.”
“Ooh,” Chanyeol says. “Gonna wine and dine me?”
“And if you’re lucky,” Junmyeon says, dotting a kiss to the center of Chanyeol’s lips, “you’ll get the sixty-nine after too.”
“I’ll be so good for you, Daddy,” Chanyeol smiles, stealing another kiss, one that lingers, too much tongue.
“Go,” Junmyeon says, pushing him back by the shoulders. “If you don’t go now, I’ll never let you leave.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna go,” Chanyeol says coyly.
Junmyeon crowds back into his space, kisses him hard and fast, leaving Chanyeol gasping, hunched over…wanting more.
“Go,” Junmyeon says, and it’s final.
“’Kay,” Chanyeol says. “Thank you.”
“No,” Junmyeon says. “Thank you.”
The drive home is quiet, and he taps his thumbs along the steering wheels.
Chanyeol knows something is wrong as soon as he sees shoes at the door. Not just any shoes, actually. The ugly-ass crystal Gucci slides. He debates turning around and diving into the Hudson, but he gets his shit together, taking a minute or two to compose himself and his breathing, before he heads into the kitchen where he finds Sehun waiting.
“I came to surprise you,” Sehun says with a frown. “But you weren’t here.”
There’s a cardboard drink holder with a cup inside, Sehun’s in his hands, and there’s a paper bag resting on the counter.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Chanyeol says.
“Where were you?” Sehun asks.
“I-it was such a late night,” Chanyeol says. “I was too tired to drive home, so I just stayed at the hospital.”
“Oh,” Sehun says, and he furrows his brow. “I can go, if you want.”
It’s an out, and Chanyeol knows it. But he doesn’t want an out.
“Stay,” Chanyeol says. “I’m sorry, I should have let you know.”
Sehun gets up, and his feet pad on the tile floor. He crosses the room, and he puts his arms around Chanyeol’s neck.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Sehun says. “I get it.”
You don’t, Chanyeol thinks. Not at all. He decided, back when everything went to hell, that he would do anything to keep Sehun, even tell little white lies, something he’s never done or wanted to do before. But now, now that he’s in the thick of it, it feels like he’s only serving to drive Sehun away.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Chanyeol says. “Whatever you want.”
It’s a couple tense seconds before Sehun reacts, but he eventually wriggles happily in Chanyeol’s embrace.
“I just wanna lay with you for a while. Is that okay?” Sehun says, and it nearly breaks Chanyeol’s heart in two. How is he so good at acting? How is he so good at reading what Chanyeol needs and then giving it to him? He’s worth all the bullshit, all the secrets and deceptions that make him sick to his stomach. He’s worth every fucking penny.
“Of course it’s okay. Do you have any plans today?” Chanyeol asks, and he nuzzles into the side of Sehun’s neck, finding the perfect spot for a kiss.
“I had something,” Sehun says. “But I’ll blow it off for you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun pulls back, takes Chanyeol’s jaw in his hands.
“I know I don’t have to,” Sehun says. “But I want to.”
Chanyeol has lost himself in the fantasy they’ve built, and he knows that it’s stupid, so fucking naive, but he can’t seem to find the will to pull himself out of it. Why would he want to wake from a dream so sweet?
“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll shower and meet you in bed.”
Sehun smiles, kisses him happily.
“Okay,” Sehun says.
After that, Chanyeol realizes he’s got to dedicate more of himself to Sehun, so he indulges him in his favorite pastime.
“Ah,” Sehun says excitedly, sing-songing, hand resting on Chanyeol’s thigh as Chanyeol drives. “It’s been so long, but my Daddy is spoiling me, and it feels so good.”
“Shut up,” Chanyeol smiles.
“You like when I’m happy,” Sehun teases. “It’s written all over your face.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol wonders aloud.
“Yeah,” Sehun says. “And you know what? I like it like that.”
Chanyeol fights down a smile, feeling the heat rise to his face. He’s always being caught like this, Sehun pinning him down with his thumb. Watching him squirm as he telegraphs his love for Sehun loud and clear. When they get to the mall, Sehun bounces with excitement, and Chanyeol wants to hug him close.
“I wanna get you something special today too,” Sehun says. “You’re always working so hard, and you’re always treating me. Maybe it’s time for you to get treated for a change.”
Chanyeol feels like all he’s been doing lately has been getting spoiled, even by Sehun...but coming from those lips, it’s something he can't turn down.
“Alright,” Chanyeol says. “You pick something out for me, and I’ll pick something out for you.”
Sehun claps his hands happily, and as he walks off, Chanyeol watches him go. Wonders what to do.
Junmyeon’s hair is wet and he’s wearing Yale sweats when Chanyeol comes in, looking more comfortable than Chanyeol has ever seen him before.
“Hope you don’t mind Chinese,” Junmyeon says as he lays containers out on the coffee table.
“Not only do I not mind it, I love it,” Chanyeol says, toeing off his shoes before crossing barefoot to Junmyeon on the couch. He leans down, and when Junmyeon tilts his chin up, Chanyeol kisses him. Lush. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Junmyeon says. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Junmyeon says. “I get it.”
It feels like an echo, like the most powerful déjà vu he can imagine. He shakes it away and sits next to Junmyeon on the couch.
“You wanna shower before you eat?” Junmyeon asks.
“I don’t know,” Chanyeol says, ruffling his hair and gesturing down to his clothes. “I’d have to put this back on.”
“I bought you comfy stuff for when you stay over,” Junmyeon says casually. “Big, since I know you like to swim in your clothes.”
Chanyeol is honest-to-God touched at the gesture. He leans forward, a hand on Junmyeon’s neck as he kisses him.
“Thank you,” Chanyeol says as he stands up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Junmyeon says, folding his hands behind his head. “It’s a night for relaxation.”
“That sounds like exactly what I need,” Chanyeol says, and he walks off towards the master bathroom.
Junmyeon’s response is quiet, but Chanyeol still manages to hear it: “That’s what I’m here for.”
He scrubs himself clean of the week and the guilt that’s come along with it, and when he enters Junmyeon’s bedroom ready to search high and low for the gift, he sees soft grey jogging pants and the zip-up hoodie to match laid across Junmyeon’s California king.
Chanyeol reaches for the tag, and his suspicions are confirmed: Louis Vuitton. Trust Junmyeon to splurge even on this sort of thing.
Forgoing underwear, he slides on the pants and zips up the hoodie three-quarters of the way, a little bit of his chest still showing. He walks out to see Junmyeon diving into a takeout box, chopsticks first.
“Sorry,” Junmyeon says with his mouth full before he swallows thickly. “Skipped lunch, so I’m kinda hungry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Chanyeol says. He walks over, and he presses a kiss to Junmyeon’s forehead. “Thank you for this.”
“Please,” Junmyeon says, giving him a once over. “They should be thanking you. No one has ever looked so good in sweatpants.”
“You look pretty good yourself,” Chanyeol says, staring down at the threadbare material stretched over Junmyeon’s thighs. “Really good, actually.”
“You think?” Junmyeon asks.
Chanyeol sits beside him.
“I think,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon looks him up and down, eyes lingering on the skin showing at his chest.
“Eat,” Junmyeon says. “Otherwise I’m gonna end up eating you.”
Chanyeol smiles and grabs a takeout box from the table.
“I thought I told you I wasn’t into vore,” Chanyeol says, and Junmyeon just laughs.
He keeps thinking it can’t get tougher, but balancing two conversations at the same time, never accidentally texting one person what was meant for the other, is draining to say the least.
“I asked you, right?” Sehun says. “I didn’t just...invite myself over, did I?”
“No,” Chanyeol confirms. “You definitely asked me, and I definitely said yes. I’m sorry. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Where’s your head been lately, huh?” Sehun laughs, knocking his balled up fist lightly against Chanyeol’s head. “I mean, Thanksgiving is marked in your calendar, I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says. And he knocks his forehead against Sehun’s. “Make it up to you.”
“With food?” Sehun asks, kissing him softly. “Or with sex?”
“Both?” Chanyeol says.
“My kind of man,” Sehun says, and he licks into Chanyeol’s mouth, before pulling back sharply. “But A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving is on, and I—”
“Say no more,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll get the pie.”
“My hero,” Sehun says, and as Chanyeol walks to the kitchen, he taps into his conversation with Junmyeon, typing out a little message, hoping it’s enough: happy thanksgiving, daddy.
He walks back into the living room with two slices of pumpkin pie, feeling thankful, but more overwhelmed than anything else.
They keep in touch, when they’re apart, but it isn’t the same, of course. Everyone knows that. That’s why it feels so frantic, the push and pull between the three of them. But only Chanyeol knows that it exists.
“I missed you,” Junmyeon says into Chanyeol’s shoulder.
“Missed you too,” Chanyeol says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come by sooner.”
“It’s okay,” Junmyeon says. “Busy time of year for everyone.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees, wishing he could elaborate without telling a lie. “Did you have a nice holiday at least?”
“Yeah, it was okay,” Junmyeon says. “Visited family, since—well, I got to visit family.”
“Ah,” Chanyeol says. “Any crazy uncles?”
“Just an aunt who really likes Chardonnay,” Junmyeon laughs, hugging Chanyeol tight.
“We all have one of those,” Chanyeol says, and he kisses Junmyeon’s hair, smiling. “You’re not special.”
“Nah, guess not,” Junmyeon says, and something about it makes Chanyeol want to take it back, explain it as a joke, apologize. You’re special. You’re so special, Chanyeol thinks. You’re tied for the most special person in the whole world.
“How can I make it up to you?” Chanyeol asks, gently pulling Junmyeon back by the hair so he can look into his eyes. “Hm?”
“You don’t have to make anything up to me,” Junmyeon says. “Just you being here is enough.”
He raises himself up on his tiptoes, chin tilted up. Chanyeol kisses him. Once, twice.
“Stop,” Chanyeol says. “Let me do something for you.”
“Well,” Junmyeon says, smiling. “I wouldn’t say no to you coming over again this weekend.”
“Done,” Chanyeol says.
“And maybe dinner on Tuesday?” Junmyeon asks, batting his eyelashes.
There’s no need for it, of course. Chanyeol would give him anything, absolutely anything.
Sehun looks in his eyes, and Chanyeol closes them instinctively. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and his is filthy.
“Open ‘em,” Sehun says.
And Chanyeol is helpless.
“Hi,” Sehun says. “You have pretty eyes.”
“They’re brown,” Chanyeol says.
“Yeah,” Sehun says, reaching out a hand to stroke along Chanyeol’s cheek, and he nuzzles into the touch. “Brown and pretty.”
They watch each other, still wet with the other, and it’s good, it’s so good. It’s complicated, but it’s good.
“I’m happy you called,” Chanyeol says.
“I’m happy you answered,” Sehun says.
“Sorry,” Chanyeol says.
“Don’t apologize,” Sehun says. “I get it.”
He’s too understanding, and that’s part of what makes him so fucking addicting.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Chanyeol asks, and he holds Sehun’s cheek in his hand. “Studying or something?”
Sehun’s face becomes impenetrable, impossibly hard. Mistake. Always with the mistakes.
“I mean, I’ll go if you really want,” Sehun says. “But we both have so little free time anymore. It feels like...well, you just tell me what to do. Should I go?”
Go study, Chanyeol thinks. Because every minute you stay, it makes me think I have a chance with you when I don’t. So go study. Take the money. Make it all about the money. Because if there are feelings involved, I won’t know what to do.
Say the word, Chanyeol tells himself. Say it.
“Stay,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun softens, melting marshmallow. Sticky when he crosses the distance in Chanyeol’s new bed.
“Okay,” Sehun says. “I’ll stay. We have to break this in anyway.”
Chanyeol laughs loud.
“What would you call what we just did?” Chanyeol asks, reaching down between his legs.
Sehun gets up onto his knees, pulling Chanyeol’s body up, legs split at Sehun’s waist.
He cancels a dinner date with Sehun just to watch Junmyeon look at sheets.
“The ones you bought were garbage,” Junmyeon sniffs, and the haughtiness would look a bit ugly on anyone besides him. On him, it just looks cute. “What about these?”
“Those are fine,” Chanyeol says.
Junmyeon shoots a look back.
“I’m serious,” Chanyeol says. “They’re all fine.”
“You have no taste!” Junmyeon says. “Who do I have to pay to get you taste?”
“I have no idea,” Chanyeol says, elbow leaning against the wall, head against his hand.
“Well, what you sleep on is very important to me,” Junmyeon says, studying the Egyptian cottons with thread counts in the million, so far as Chanyeol could tell. “So you have to stand there and be good and tell me you like what I pick.”
“Yes, dear,” Chanyeol deadpans, but genuinely, Junmyeon’s attention to detail is sort of endearing, one of the small things about him that Chanyeol loves.
Still, Junmyeon looks back with a wince.
“Is this needy?” Junmyeon asks. “Do I look desperate? I’m very self-conscious about being needy.”
“You’re not needy,” Chanyeol says, and he isn’t, but God, Chanyeol can feel his pocket buzzing with messages from Sehun, messages that have gone unanswered for the day.
“You’ll tell me if I get needy, right?” Junmyeon says.
“I would tell you,” Chanyeol says.
“Oh, good,” Junmyeon says. And he focuses again on the sheets, clapping his hands excitedly. “These are fucking perfect, what do you think?”
He holds them out for Chanyeol to touch. They feel like silk.
“Perfect,” Chanyeol says, and Junmyeon gives him a kiss, dragging Chanyeol into the red more and more.
Sehun calls him right before he’s about to drive to the hospital, and he sounds...upset.
“What did you send me?” Sehun asks.
“Just a little something,” Chanyeol says. “For cancelling. And since we haven’t seen each other in the past week really.”
“You sent me candles,” Sehun says, and Chanyeol hears clinking, clanking as Sehun moves things around. “Hand-poured soy wax candles and French milled soap.”
“And a sea sponge,” Chanyeol says. “It’s all very nice.”
“Your finals are coming up, right?” Chanyeol says. “I thought you might need a little treat to get you through.”
“Chanyeol,” Sehun says. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Chanyeol says.
“What is this?” Sehun says.
“It’s the Staycation Deluxe kit,” Chanyeol says. “They said they’d put the information in the box.”
“Don’t be obtuse,” Sehun says exasperatedly. “It’s not as cute as you think it is.”
Sehun can cut him so deep and so easy. Chanyeol breathes slowly.
“I—I feel bad,” Chanyeol says. “I feel like I haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve.”
Sehun stays quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll be better. I swear to God.”
“You don’t have to buy my love,” Sehun says softly. “You can’t buy my love.”
That’s not going to stop me from trying, Chanyeol thinks. Even if you don’t realize it, it was a long time ago that I decided I’d go broke if I had to.
“I know,” Chanyeol says. “I’m sorry.”
“Come over, okay?” Sehun says.
“Didn’t you say you were studying today?” Chanyeol asks.
“Chanyeol, I always have time for you,” Sehun says, and God Chanyeol is even more whipped than he thought. “Bring your robe. We can try out the…replenishing salt soak with jasmine and geranium essential oils and himalayan sea salts, or the soothing milk bath, ideal for sensitive skin.”
“Okay,” he says. “Be there in a half hour.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Sehun says.
It keeps going like that, tugged back and forth between them until he’s sure that he’s going to break in two, clean down the middle. Half for each of them. He makes as much time as he can without going completely crazy, but there’s only so much a person can do.
There’s only so far you can go.
i think we need to talk
That’s what the text reads. Chanyeol reads it several times in a row, checks the sender a couple times too. It still reads sehun, decorated with the heart emojis that Sehun added. Chanyeol blinks, blinks again.
okay, he writes back. should i call?
Half the day passes, and he does his best not to think about it too hard. He’s responsible for people’s well-being. He wonders why everyone else feels so inconsequential when it comes to Sehun and Junmyeon.
When he checks his phone in the afternoon, he still hasn’t gotten a response, so he shoves it back into his pocket and tries to think about anything, anything else.
It’s late evening when he hears his phone rattle on the coffee table, and he scrambles over to pick it up.
can i come by tomorrow, Sehun writes.
He’s off. He has all the time in the world.
yeah, Chanyeol texts back. tomorrow is perfect
He goes to sleep with no response, and he feels like maybe the walls are closing in around him.
Chanyeol has a tense knotted ball of energy in his throat as he opens the door, and when he sees Junmyeon standing there with a smile on his face, the knots tighten.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
Junmyeon smiles and pushes past Chanyeol.
“What kind of greeting is that?” Junmyeon asks.
“Sorry, I’m just...I’m sort of busy right now,” Chanyeol says.
“I heard,” Junmyeon says. “But I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I would drop by for a quickie.”
“I don’t have time for a quickie,” Chanyeol says.
“That’s what’s good about a quickie, though,” Junmyeon says, poking Chanyeol in the chest. “They’re quick.”
“I don’t even have quickie time,” Chanyeol says, frowning.
“I was only kidding,” Junmyeon says, and he reaches up to touch Chanyeol’s cheek. “What’s up with you, huh? You’ve been so busy lately.”
“Nothing,” Chanyeol says. “I just have a lot going on.”
“Do you wanna talk?” Junmyeon offers.
“Maybe later,” Chanyeol says. “Sorry, I really am busy right now.”
“Ah,” Junmyeon says, smirking like he knows what Chanyeol needs. “Are you sure you don’t have time for a blowjob? You always have time for a blowjob.”
He looks down at Chanyeol’s crotch and starts to sink to his knees. Chanyeol panics and grabs him by the shoulders, dragging him back up.
“I’m serious,” Chanyeol says. “You have to go.”
“Ooh,” Junmyeon says. “I like it when you’re all feisty. Makes it more fun to take you down a peg.”
“I’m being serious,” Chanyeol whines. “I’ll text you later.”
“FaceTime,” Junmyeon negotiates. “With no pants.”
“Fine,” Chanyeol says. “Whatever you want.”
Junmyeon smiles, million-watt and mega-charming.
“That’s my baby,” he says, kissing Chanyeol with too much tongue and for far too long.
Chanyeol can get lost in it easily, has done plenty of times before. He pushes Junmyeon back by the shoulders.
“Come on,” Chanyeol says, walking him to the door. “Go, go.”
“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into a handjob for the road?”
“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says.
“Kidding, kidding,” Junmyeon says. “I’ll see you later, baby. 10 o’clock, sharp.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes.
He opens the door, ready to shove Junmyeon across the threshold, but instead of the empty hallway, he is faced with Sehun, hand raised. Poised to knock.
“Oh,” Chanyeol says, heart in his mouth, “my god.”
“What the fuck? Suho?” Sehun says, a look of utter confusion on his face.
“Who?” Chanyeol says.
But Sehun doesn’t answer him, just stares at Junmyeon and...
Chanyeol looks between them both, and there is...there’s something there, something undeniable between them, palpable and thick like fog. Recognition. Memory.
“W-what are you doing here?” Junmyeon says.
“Oh, god,” Chanyeol says, his stomach acid practically boiling him alive. “H-how do you know each other?”
Sehun turns to him, a look of disbelief on his face.
“That’s what it was? That’s where you’ve been? You’re his baby?” Sehun asks, hurt and hurt and hurt.
“It’s not what you think,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun rolls his eyes, already wet with tears, and he turns his back on Chanyeol, stalking down the hallway.
“Wait,” Chanyeol says, immediately set into motion to chase after him. “Wait, wait.”
“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon calls.
Chanyeol ignores him, quickly closing the gap between he and Sehun until he can reach out and grab Sehun by the arm, who wheels around.
“Don’t,” Sehun seethes, “touch me.”
“I can explain,” Chanyeol says.
“No,” Sehun says. “You can’t. You’re fucking...you’re cheating on me.”
“Technically, we have an open relationship,” Chanyeol says, and God, that’s the wrong thing to say apparently, because Sehun flips him off, turning around again before Chanyeol grabs him by the arm.
“This isn’t open,” Sehun says as he wheels back around to face Chanyeol. “You fucking hid that shit from me.”
Chanyeol looks around uncomfortably.
“Can we do this somewhere else?” Chanyeol whispers. “Please.”
“Fuck you,” Sehun says, and he turns around again, puts three steps between them. “Just...fuck you.”
“Sehun, please,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun faces him once more, and God, if Chanyeol knew it would be like this, he would have been done with this shit from the start, wouldn’t have even considered it. Sehun’s eyes are shining, and Chanyeol did this. It was all him.
“What?” Sehun says. “What’s so important, huh? Why can’t you just let me leave with a fucking shred of my dignity? I fucking knew you were doing something shady, but I trusted you, and here I am, looking like a fucking idiot.”
“Please,” Chanyeol says. “Just let me...let me tell you what happened. Please? God, Sehun, please, I swear I can explain.”
Sehun folds his arms. Looks every bit of the brat he is. In any other circumstance, Chanyeol thinks, this would be the lead-up to the dicking of his fucking life.
“You have to tell him to leave,” Sehun says.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “He’s on his way out.”
Sehun looks at Chanyeol’s shoes.
“Fine,” Sehun says, shoving past Chanyeol, and Chanyeol follows him back to the apartment, trying to find the right words for all the wrong things.
Sehun waits outside as Chanyeol talks to Junmyeon.
“Please, you have to go,” Chanyeol says.
“Uh,” Junmyeon says, angrier than Chanyeol has ever seen him before. “No, definitely not. We have things to discuss. Is he...what is he to you?”
“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol whispers. “Please.”
“No, this is a pretty clear breach of trust,” Junmyeon says. “And I’m not about to just let it go. How long has this been going on? A month?”
“Can’t we...can’t this wait until I’ve talked to him?” Chanyeol asks.
“No,” Junmyeon says. “Is he your daddy too?”
“What?” Chanyeol says. “No. He’s my baby.”
Horror dawns on Junmyeon’s face like sunrise on the shore, and he then scrubs a hand across his face.
“What in the heavenly fuck have you gotten us into?” Junmyeon grouses.
“He...look, I know I should have been upfront about this,” Chanyeol says. “But I didn’t want to lose him. I just wanted...I wanted enough to get my head above water, just enough so that I could keep him for a little longer, and then I’d stop. But it’s...it didn’t work out that way. It didn’t go as planned.”
“You can say that again,” Junmyeon says.
Then, there is a timid knock at the door.
“People are looking at me,” Sehun whispers.
Junmyeon rolls his eyes.
“Sehun,” Junmyeon says.
“No,” Sehun whispers back. “You’re supposed to be leaving.”
“Just come in here,” Junmyeon says. “And we can all talk about it.”
“Now you wanna talk things out,” Sehun says. “Of course.”
“That’s unfair,” Junmyeon says. “You know it’s unfair.”
The door opens, and Chanyeol can feel Sehun’s anger like fire, singeing the hairs at the back of his neck. Chanyeol cowers a bit.
“You know what,” Sehun says, “after all I’ve been through, I think I deserve to be a little unfair. Especially to the two of you fucking idiots.”
“Fine,” Junmyeon says. “Who should go first then?”
Sehun turns to Chanyeol.
“Let’s go sit,” Chanyeol says. “It...it’ll be easier that way.”
They watch him with critical eyes, and he shivers.
“Yeah, so, uh,” Chanyeol says. “I’m sorry. To both of you.”
Neither of them says anything, so he looks down at his feet before he continues.
“Sehun, I...I was in a bit of financial trouble,” Chanyeol says, and he hears Sehun react, a sharp intake of breath. “And I didn’t want to lose you.”
“What the fuck,” Sehun says, and Chanyeol looks up to see Sehun’s perfect eyebrows furrowing sadly. “Chanyeol, wh—”
“I know, okay,” Chanyeol says. “I get it. It’s a financial relationship we have, and I was stupid, because if I couldn’t afford it, I should have just let you leave, but I...I was selfish, okay? I wanted to keep you. Because I...I fucking love you, you know?”
“Chanyeol,” Sehun says sadly.
“And Junmyeon,” Chanyeol turns quickly, unable to handle anymore of Sehun looking at him with pity. “I’m...I didn’t want to lose him, so I found you, but then after a while, it wasn’t about the money anymore, you know? It was...I like you, I like you so much, and then I just didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to tell either of you, and now everything is so fucked up and ruined, and it’s, it’s all my fault.”
“Stop,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” Chanyeol says. “It is.”
“Yeah, but…” Junmyeon says, “I want to be mad at you, and this is just making me feel sorry instead.”
“Don’t, I don’t deserve that,” Chanyeol says. “I’m a fuck-up.”
“Yes,” Sehun says, and when Chanyeol looks at him, he’s got his arms folded. “You are.”
A beat, Sehun holding his gaze.
“You love me?” Sehun asks, gentle and soft like velvet.
“Y-yeah,” Chanyeol says. “Sorry.”
“You fucking idiot,” Sehun says, unfolding his arms quickly and crashing into Chanyeol, tackling him to the couch. “Why didn’t you...why didn’t you fucking tell me any of this?”
“I just...I didn’t want to lose you,” Chanyeol says.
“Lose me,” Sehun scoffs, kissing Chanyeol fast and hard. “You can’t lose me. I’m yours.”
“Even if I’m...even if I go bankrupt?” Chanyeol asks.
“If I knew that was something you were worried about,” Sehun says, pressing kisses to Chanyeol’s face, “I wouldn’t have ran up your bills, you idiot. You thought I was only with you for the money? God, how can someone so beautiful be so fucking stupid?”
He tangles his tongue with Chanyeol’s, Chanyeol’s hands on Sehun’s hips. He feels the weight start falling off his shoulders as Sehun kisses him, as Sehun—
“I feel like I’m interrupting,” Junmyeon says, and it’s that voice he uses, trying to keep control in the face of discomfort. “I’ll leave.”
“No!” Chanyeol yells before grimacing at the volume. “No. Please. Don’t go.”
“How long have you been together?” he asks.
“Uh,” Chanyeol says. “A year. And some change.”
“How much change?” Junmyeon asks.
“Two months?” Chanyeol says.
“You’ve got your baby,” Junmyeon says, holding up his hands. “I get it.”
“N-no,” Chanyeol says, and he sits up, Sehun moving to the side. “I...this is what I wanted to avoid. Because I...I love you both.”
Junmyeon laughs, petulant.
“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “That’s enough of that.”
“I’m serious,” Chanyeol says. “I love you.”
“You love what he loved about me,” Junmyeon says, pointing at Sehun. “You love what everyone loves about me. My money.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Sehun says. “Don’t make this about me when it’s obviously about your deep-seated insecurities about how money can’t buy people.”
“It bought you,” Junmyeon says.
“Good one,” Sehun says. “Really classy.”
“What have I missed?” Chanyeol says.
“God, you’re sweet,” Sehun says, holding Chanyeol’s hand. “He was my first daddy. The one I had before you.”
Chanyeol has taken ice baths before, more frequently back in his early college days when he was still doing hard workouts. You never forget the feeling though, the shock that sits in your blood vessels like paralysis, and that’s exactly what happens to him then: he keeps his feet glued to the ground and his mouth glued shut.
“Well,” Junmyeon says. “There it is.”
“Right,” Chanyeol says. “That, uh, that makes sense.”
“Nothing about this makes sense,” Sehun says.
“No,” Chanyeol says. “No, I guess not.”
The silence that follows is the most uncomfortable silence that Chanyeol has ever lived through, and right in the heart of it, Chanyeol thinks that he might not survive, that the ugly quiet will reach up and strangle him to death. It might be a fine way to go, Chanyeol thinks, considering the mess he’s gotten himself into.
“So you guys,” Chanyeol says, gesturing between them, “aren’t friends.”
Sehun folds his arms.
“Not exactly,” Junmyeon says.
“Why not?” Chanyeol asks, head tilted to the side.
“He cut me off because we started to like each other seriously, not in a normal Daddy–baby way. He wouldn’t even tell me his real name,” Sehun says. “No one knows intimacy issues like Suho knows intimacy issues.”
“It was for our own good. God, you’re making it seem like I’m a bad guy,” Junmyeon says.
“You are,” Sehun says.
“No, he’s not,” Chanyeol says.
Sehun whips around to look at him.
“He’s not,” Chanyeol says. “He’s...he’s grown a lot.”
“Oh yeah?” Sehun scoffs.
“Yeah, he...he’s grown,” Chanyeol says. “And I know this complicates things, but...but I feel really strongly about both of you, so I don’t know where to go from here.”
He looks between them, sees their eyes. It’s tense. Quiet. And then Sehun breaks it with a smile.
“Rock-paper-scissors for him?” Sehun offers.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chanyeol says. “I’m not a cow, you can’t win me.”
“You’re on,” Junmyeon says to Sehun before turning back to Chanyeol. “And you better hope he wins, because if I do, you won’t be able to walk straight for days.”
The threat sets his stomach on fire, a lit match in a pool of gasoline.
“I think he’ll be walking with a limp regardless,” Sehun smirks.
“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “You top him too?”
“Shut up,” Sehun says.
“No, no,” Junmyeon smiles. “Just that you were pretty desperate for cock when you were with me.”
It’s not that Chanyeol hasn’t thought about Sehun taking it. He has. Thought about it a lot. But hearing it from Junmyeon, from someone who’s had Sehun in a way that Chanyeol hasn’t, it’s so hot that he feels like he might faint.
“If I remember correctly,” Sehun says, “that’s the way you wanted me.”
“And you say I’m the one with intimacy issues,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t act like you were acting. Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”
“I never said I didn’t,” Sehun says. “It’s just that I knew what I was there for. And as soon as it was too much for you, I was gone. Like fucking trash.”
Junmyeon rolls his eyes.
“Don’t,” Sehun says. “That’s exactly how it was.”
“That’s not how it was,” Junmyeon says. “You were fucking nineteen years old. In school. Almost a decade younger than me. What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh?”
“Love me?” Sehun says. “Like it’s fucking hard?”
Chanyeol watches, astounded. It’s funny, he thinks. He always thinks he knows everything. He sees the tip of the iceberg and thinks he can comprehend the size of what’s under the surface. He can’t. No one can.
“Sehun,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t be like this.”
“This is the only way I know how to be,” Sehun says. “Shut up and play me.”
“For fu—you know what, fine,” Junmyeon says, shaking it off and holding out his fist before he counts it off. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”
They both throw out their fists.
“All right, again,” Junmyeon says. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”
“Stop doing that,” Sehun says.
“You stop,” Junmyeon says.
“Are you both children?” Chanyeol asks.
“Stay out of this,” Sehun says.
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“I’m the prize,” Chanyeol says. “It pretty obviously concerns me.”
“Be quiet,” Junmyeon orders. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”
Scissors. Chanyeol smiles. This is getting ridiculous, and he sort of loves it.
“Fucking stop,” Sehun says, stomping his foot.
“It’s not me,” Junmyeon says.
“It is you,” Sehun says. “Do rock.”
“Fine,” Junmyeon says. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”
Sehun throws scissors. Junmyeon throws rock.
“What the fuck!” Sehun says. “You did rock!”
“That’s what you told me to do,” Junmyeon says.
“Well, obviously I thought you’d do the opposite,” Sehun says. “To fuck with me.”
Junmyeon’s face goes soft, the harsh edges of his facade rounded with affection.
“Do you really think of me like that?” Junmyeon asks. “Has it really been so long that you think I’m your enemy?”
“Yes,” Sehun says. “You are.”
“I’m not,” Junmyeon says. “I never have been, and I never will be.”
Sehun takes a step back, puts space between them. A meter. More.
“Don’t,” Sehun says. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“Why?” Junmyeon says. “It’s the truth.”
“No,” Sehun says. “Just...you won, okay? So you guys can do whatever. I’m just gonna go. I have a paper I was putting off anyway.”
And he turns.
Junmyeon stares at Chanyeol, and Chanyeol stares back. They both move at the same time, moving fast to grab Sehun’s retreating form, both of them with a hand at his shoulder.
“What?” Sehun says, spinning.
“We need to talk this out,” Chanyeol says.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sehun says. “I’m the odd one out.”
“No,” Junmyeon says. “You’re not.”
“You’re not,” Chanyeol echoes.
“What, then?” Sehun says. “We sit down, and we talk it all out like adults? Even though that’s what you both have been avoiding this whole entire time?”
Chanyeol looks down at his feet, feeling appropriately chastised. He looks over, sees Junmyeon looking the way he feels.
“Swear to God, you’d think I was the oldest with how immature you both are,” Sehun says, folding his arms. “Fine. Let’s talk then.”
It’s a lot of yelling. Roughly an hour of yelling. Rehashing rights and wrongs, placing blames, owning blames. Trying not to own blames. Chanyeol does his best to referee between the two of them, both parties equally frustrated, but eventually, eventually, it settles. And where there was once the red-hot fires of anger, amber-tinged coals remain.
“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon finally says. “I really am. I treated you poorly, and though I thought I was doing what was best for both of us, it doesn’t matter in the end. I fucking...I screwed everything up. We had something good, and I ruined it. And for that, I am sorry.”
Sehun looks in Chanyeol’s eyes before looking back to Junmyeon, Sehun’s hands in Junmyeon’s.
“It’s okay,” Sehun says. “I...I mean, even though I think it was fucking stupid, I get why you did what you did. You didn’t wanna hurt me, you just...you just didn’t wanna get hurt yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon repeats, and with that, Sehun pulls Junmyeon into his arms into an embrace. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah, we’re okay,” Sehun says.
“I missed you,” Junmyeon says into Sehun’s ear. “So much.”
“I missed you too,” Sehun says, eyes squeezed shut, and Chanyeol can’t help but smile. Everything’s worked out for the best, he thinks. And miraculously, he got to help in that.
And then, Chanyeol sees something beautiful: Sehun leans back, looking from Junmyeon’s eyes to his lips, and he moves forward slowly, slowly, before kissing Junmyeon sweetly.
Oh, Chanyeol thinks. Maybe I’m the odd one out. Maybe I didn’t realize.
Still, he thinks as he watches them kiss, it wouldn’t be so bad. They’re good together. Chaotic and fierce, but good.
“There’s still something we haven’t settled, though,” Junmyeon says as soon as he breaks the kiss.
He pulls out of the embrace, smiling at Sehun. Chanyeol watches as something passes wordlessly between them, and if he didn’t know better, he would assume they could speak telepathically.
“Yeah,” Sehun says, smiling back. “You’re right.”
“What?” Chanyeol asks, and then, the both of them turn on him.
He’s never been prey before, but now he knows what it feels like. They watch him with hungry eyes, demanding eyes, and he feels more naked than he ever has before, and he’s still fully dressed.
“What?” Chanyeol repeats.
“Don’t you think you owe us an apology?” Sehun asks, eyes glimmering, looking oh so dangerous.
“I—I’m sorry?” Chanyeol stammers. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sorry.”
“Not like that,” Junmyeon says. “You know how.”
Lust shoots through his stomach like a fuckin’ bullet, and he clutches his abdomen as if to stop himself from bleeding out.
“You wanna show us how sorry you are?” Sehun asks. “For stringing us along for so long?”
Chanyeol looks at the floor, already sinking into it. Both of them? At the same time? Even one of them is enough to decimate him, reduce him to a shivering, sniffling puddle of himself. He doesn’t know if he can handle them both.
“That was an awfully mean thing to do, wasn’t it?” Junmyeon says. “Using us both.”
“I think we ought to get the chance to use you in return,” Sehun says before turning to Junmyeon, kissing him on the lips. “What do you think, babe?”
“I think that’s fair,” Junmyeon says. “What do you think, baby? Do you think that’s fair?”
It doesn’t matter what’s fair, of course.
What matters is what Chanyeol wants, and he sees the question for what it really is: red, yellow, or green?
“Yes,” Chanyeol says quietly. “I think that’s fair.”
“We should go someplace more comfortable then, don’t you think?” Sehun says, leaning forward and swiping his tongue across Chanyeol’s lips in a kiss.
“Y-yes,” Chanyeol stumbles. “Yes.”
“Good thing you got that California king, huh?” Junmyeon says. “We’re gonna need all the room we can get.”
In the thin seconds he had to think about it, he thought that it might be complicated. He thought it might have a weird dynamic about it, that there might be more pushing and pulling. A tug of war for the ages.
For some strange reason, though, it feels distinctly uncomplicated when they fall into the bed, two sets of hands pawing over him.
Sehun is the first to close the gap between them, kissing him hard and fast, reminding him of their history together. He knows Chanyeol inside and out, knows how to only snap his fingers and get Chanyeol squirming in the sheets.
As he’s pulled out of the kiss, Sehun sitting back for a moment and looking satisfied as he stares down at Chanyeol’s lips, he is quickly dragged into another, Junmyeon holding him by the collar as he takes what’s his. It’s possessive, slick with the slide from one to the other. He could be passed between them forever, and he thinks he wouldn’t mind it. Wouldn’t mind it at all. Might even beg for it.
He’s being treated carefully, he realizes. The way they take turns, gently easing him into it. It seems so practiced, as if they’ve had experience taming a third. His stomach rolls with arousal, and he moans into Sehun’s mouth, lets it bounce between them.
They unbutton his shirt, fingers diligent, and their hands slip beneath the fabric, kneading into his chest. Running over his nipples. Pinching them.
He arches, head thrown back, before he strains his neck to look down at them, the two of them. All over him. Kissing his neck, his collarbones. Licking along his skin.
Chanyeol grabs them both, hands on their necks, and he pulls them together. They lean into each other over Chanyeol’s body, and it feels right. Like being covered.
Junmyeon smirks at Chanyeol, and Chanyeol smiles shyly back. But Sehun...Sehun wastes no time, immediately sitting up, planting kisses to the bare part of Junmyeon’s neck.
He closes his eyes, hands in Sehun’s hair. Pleasure, Chanyeol realizes. That’s what Junmyeon looks like when he’s feeling it.
Chanyeol reaches down, strokes himself through his pants as he watches them kiss. It looks like what it feels like when he kisses Sehun: history bleeding through as they move together.
As Sehun pulls Junmyeon’s collar to the side, sucking a mark lower on Junmyeon’s skin than the fabric would allow, Junmyeon looks down at Chanyeol, touching himself.
“You like it when I kiss him?” Junmyeon asks.
Chanyeol nods, and Junmyeon runs his thumb along Chanyeol’s bottom lip, pushing inside Chanyeol’s mouth when it falls open.
“Take your clothes off,” Junmyeon says. And Chanyeol scrambles to obey.
He sits up quickly, scoots back as they pull each other closer now that Chanyeol isn’t laid out between them, and he strips himself down as he watches. They are so sexy, so stupidly sexy. For who? Just for him? It’s mind-boggling. Electric.
Sehun’s mouth is red when Junmyeon is finished with him. And God, it is a good look. Chanyeol has never seen him this way, so ruthlessly aroused. Like him. So much like Chanyeol.
“Strip him,” Junmyeon says, and he opens up the space, backs away from Sehun, allows Chanyeol to knee over to him.
Chanyeol takes the hem of Sehun’s sweater in his hands and gently drags it up, every centimeter of skin a revelation, before he pulls it up and over Sehun’s head. He throws it across the room, not caring where it lands. He fusses with Sehun’s belt buckle as Sehun runs his hands over Chanyeol’s skin, scattering little kisses across Chanyeol’s cheeks.
Finally, he’s able to pull Sehun’s pants down to his knees, and Sehun lies back in the bed, graceful even in this, baring himself completely.
“He’s so pretty, isn’t he?” Junmyeon comments, hooking his chin over Chanyeol’s shoulder.
“God, yeah,” Chanyeol says as Sehun sits back up, smiling.
“Look at him,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol does, letting his eyes glaze over Sehun’s form. “Perfect, huh?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees. “Pretty damn perfect.”
“Lie down,” Junmyeon says, and when Junmyeon says jump, well…
Chanyeol moves, lies back down, and when he looks up to Junmyeon, he gets rewarded with a quick stroke to his cock. It’s more like a pet than anything, but Chanyeol salivates anyway.
“You too,” Junmyeon says, shooting a look at Sehun.
“Why should I?” Sehun says.
“Because you want to let Daddy finger you,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t you?”
Sehun waffles, and Chanyeol bites his lip to stop from smiling. He takes Sehun’s hand in his, and Sehun looks in his eyes. Allows Chanyeol to pull him to the bed.
Junmyeon sits on his heels between them, looking entirely too good for any one person to look.
“Ah,” Junmyeon says, thumbing open the buttons of his shirt, casual in his efficiency as he strips himself, “aren’t you both just the prettiest things I’ve ever seen?”
He takes them both, one cock in each hand, and he strokes them slow from top to bottom. Chanyeol doesn’t know when it changed, shifted from them destroying him to this, he and Sehun holding hands as Junmyeon stares at them hungrily, drawing up plans for them in his head. It feels natural this way, though. Feels like it was always meant to be this way. The three of them together, like this.
Junmyeon gets off the bed, shucks his pants in one smooth motion, and walks to the bedside table. Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut.
“Have you been smart? When’s the last time you got yourself tested?” Junmyeon asks, searching through Chanyeol’s drawer.
“Three months ago,” Sehun says. “Totally clean. I’m due for another soon, but I always...I always make sure.”
“Smart baby,” Junmyeon praises, and Sehun squeezes Chanyeol’s hand in his as Junmyeon walks back to the bed. “Condoms for tonight.”
Sehun frowns, and Chanyeol frowns too. There’s the implication, though. The implication that it won’t be an anomaly. And if Chanyeol wasn’t on fucking fire before, he certainly is now.
Junmyeon sets the lube and the condoms between them, and he pours a healthy amount onto his fingers.
“Who should I start with?” Junmyeon asks.
“Him,” Sehun says. “He’s so cute when he gets fingered.”
“Isn’t he?” Junmyeon smiles. “Okay. Spread.”
Chanyeol closes his eyes, holds his legs up in the air by the backs of his thighs.
“Good boy,” Junmyeon says as he wets along Chanyeol’s hole.
Junmyeon sinking a slick finger into his body is familiar. The feeling of tense lust all throughout his core is familiar. Even the way he breathes out in shifts is familiar. What isn’t familiar is the way Sehun grabs him by the jaw, makes him moan into a kiss as Junmyeon opens him up.
Chanyeol works his hips down onto it, wanting more, but Junmyeon is slow, obliterating whatever self-consciousness Chanyeol had left in him. He is Junmyeon’s, he is Sehun’s. He belongs to them. To whatever it is they have resting between the three of them.
“I love how much you love it,” Sehun says, lips against Chanyeol’s as he stares into his eyes.
Chanyeol can only look on, brow furrowing as he holds back a whine, Junmyeon only glancing against his prostate before he draws back, enters him with two fingers.
“F-fuck,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
“More?” Junmyeon asks.
“More,” Chanyeol says, and he grinds into it, groans deeply from his chest as Junmyeon circles his prostate with two deliberate fingertips. “Oh, God, more.”
But Junmyeon is cruel, pulls out before switching his gaze to Sehun, dripping more lube onto his fingers, slicking him up.
Chanyeol’s never seen anything like it, except for the chances he’s gotten to eat Sehun out. He writhes with it when Junmyeon slips a finger into him slowly, extra careful.
“Tell me if you need it slower,” Junmyeon whispers. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“I-it doesn’t,” Sehun says. And when Chanyeol licks a kiss to his neck, he moans. “It feels good.”
“Good,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol gets distracted, watches Junmyeon watch Sehun. But Junmyeon sees everything, of course, immediately taking notice. “Take care of him, baby. Make him feel good.”
Chanyeol smiles, curls up a bit to press kisses to Sehun’s pectoral, licking and sucking at his nipple as he whimpers through Junmyeon’s ministrations.
“There,” Sehun gasps. “There. Like that.”
Junmyeon doubles his efforts if the working of his hand and the sounds leaking from Sehun’s mouth are any indication. Chanyeol grazes his fingernails along Sehun’s sides, eager for the noises he gets in exchange.
“Lie back down,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol does as he’s told only to see Junmyeon switch hands. Left for Sehun. Right for Chanyeol.
“F-fuck,” Chanyeol stutters, Junmyeon touching them both almost too hot to bear.
“Good?” Junmyeon asks.
He pets his middle finger along his hole before he sinks it in, and he and Sehun moan at exactly the same time.
“Good,” Junmyeon says. “Now kiss.”
Sehun turns just as Chanyeol does, mouths tied as Junmyeon scissors his fingers inside them both. It goes on past what he would need in terms of preparation, past what Sehun would need, so Chanyeol knows that Junmyeon is just playing with them. Toying with them. He is merciless, the sounds wet and echoing in the room as he milks the moans from them. Circling his fingers at their prostates.
“S-stop,” Chanyeol moans. “Stop, stop, I’ll—”
“Let me come,” Sehun moans.
“God, I love you two,” Junmyeon says, and he works his wrists hard, grinding into them.
“Please,” Chanyeol says. “I—”
Junmyeon withdraws his fingers from Sehun, a groan on his tongue. Then, he leans down, caging Chanyeol in with a smile on his lips.
“You’d do whatever I wanted, huh,” Junmyeon says, and he allows Chanyeol to sip at kisses as he slides his fingers out.
“Yes,” Chanyeol says. Hook. Line. Sinker.
“That’s why I love you. Sehun, he’s more challenging,” Junmyeon smirks.
“Shut up,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon kisses him quickly, shuts him right up.
“You wanna know what I think we should do?” Junmyeon says, brushing the hair back out of Sehun’s eyes.
“What?” Sehun asks, and Chanyeol is transfixed, caught between them.
“I think I should watch,” Junmyeon says, “while you let Chanyeol fuck you.”
The heat makes Chanyeol’s blood simmer in his veins, the thought of it alone enough to make him flex and tense.
“Why should I?” Sehun asks, and he rises, knees dipping into the plush blankets of the bed. “Why should I let him?”
Chanyeol stays still, and he lets Junmyeon play with him. He runs a hand down Chanyeol’s chest, twisting a nipple between his fingers. Chanyeol moans, pushes into the touch, but it slips away, Junmyeon’s hand skimming across his stomach and then lower. He scratches through the hair, pressing into the lowest part of Chanyeol’s abdomen with a flat palm before he takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand.
Junmyeon grips him hard around the base, and Chanyeol tries to thrust up into it.
“Look at him,” Junmyeon says. “Look at this cock.”
Chanyeol moans, whimpers really.
“Doesn’t it look good?” Junmyeon whispers, and his other hand moves, takes Sehun by the back of the neck. “Don’t you wanna ride it? How long’s it been since you’ve been fucked, huh? You miss it. I know you do.”
Sehun moans, deliciously high from the back of his throat.
“You want it,” Junmyeon says, and he strokes Chanyeol’s cock once, hand still wet from the lube. Chanyeol groans, closes his eyes. “Yeah, you wanna try it.”
When he opens his eyes again, Sehun is staring down at him, but not at him really. At his dick. And he watches him, thirsty, all but licking his lips. It’s so fucking hot, it’s too hot, and Chanyeol can feel himself burning up.
“Let him say sorry,” Junmyeon says teasingly, and he pulls Sehun in, whispers in Sehun’s ear just loud enough for Chanyeol to hear. “Let him give you what you need.”
Sehun looks from Chanyeol to Junmyeon. Bites his lip. Nods.
“That’s my baby,” Junmyeon says, and then he starts moving them, orchestrating it all.
He piles up pillows at the head of the bed, and then he moves behind Chanyeol, letting Chanyeol lay back between his legs.
“How’s that?” Junmyeon asks, brushing Chanyeol’s hair back. “Comfortable?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and he watches Sehun straddle him, tearing the foil with his teeth, watches him roll the latex down onto Chanyeol’s cock. “Fuck.”
“Mm,” Junmyeon says, “you’re in for a treat. He’s so good. Feels like fucking heaven.”
Chanyeol curls his toes, tries to make the boiling heat settle if just for a minute while Sehun stretches back, petting behind himself. He sits up on his knees, takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, positioning him.
“Watch,” Junmyeon says. “Watch his face.”
And God, Chanyeol can’t. He wants to close his eyes, because the feeling of Sehun sinking down onto him, the tight, hot, wet friction of him is enough. That coupled with the sight of it? Sehun’s eyelashes fluttering as he bottoms out, settling down onto his knees. How could he not be totally fucking in love with him. Absolutely, utterly, madly in love.
Sehun settles, takes a minute to himself to become accustomed to the feeling of being filled, and Chanyeol takes the opportunity to glide the pads of his fingers over Sehun’s thighs. He shivers and clenches around Chanyeol, the most excruciatingly wonderful pressure surrounding him from all sides.
“Go ‘head, baby,” Junmyeon says as he runs his palms down Chanyeol’s chest. “Show him what you can do.”
Sehun rises and falls once, swiftly impaling himself on Chanyeol’s cock, throwing his head back with a moan as Chanyeol struggles to breathe through it.
“Good, huh?” Junmyeon says, and he pinches Chanyeol’s nipples roughly, diverting the direct, rapidly approaching need to come. “Wait until he really gets going.”
“S-shut up,” Sehun says, and he wraps himself in his arms, shy.
“No,” Junmyeon says. “You were always so good.”
“Well, maybe I’m rusty,” Sehun whispers as he fucks himself slowly, torturously.
“Are you?” Junmyeon prods. “I don’t think so. I think you’re just as good as you always were. And I think you wanna prove it.”
Junmyeon knows how to get to the heart of them, and it works on Sehun so well. All to Chanyeol’s benefit.
The way Sehun starts to roll his hips is something you usually only see in pornography. It’s measured, almost fucking elegant, the slow way he fucks Chanyeol into the mattress, taking as much pleasure as he gives. Chanyeol feels helpless, the way Sehun works him over, the same stunningly methodical way he can wring Chanyeol dry when he’s thrusting into him.
Sehun’s moans are so high-pitched now, tenor and pretty. He’s momentarily mesmerized by him, by everything he manages to be.
Chanyeol is caught between them, the way he always was, and he doesn’t know who to cling to: Sehun riding him or Junmyeon wrapping him up in his arms.
“Is he riding you well?” Junmyeon asks, and he starts to play with the lobes of Chanyeol’s ears, right where he knows Chanyeol is most sensitive.
It’s too much. Fuck, he—
“Stop, stop,” Chanyeol whines. “I’m gonna—”
Chanyeol searches frantically for a sign that it will end, that they’ll stop, because he’s so close, he’s so fucking close that he’s going to burst at any second, any fucking second now. He looks up to Junmyeon, a wild look in his eyes.
Not yet, Chanyeol thinks. I haven’t gotten enough yet.
“You’re so sweet,” Junmyeon says with a smile, before turning. “Okay, Sehun. Off.”
And Sehun moves, leaving Chanyeol gasping, thrusting into the air, cock flexing.
“Want him to stud for you?” Junmyeon asks as Sehun lays beside them. “Or do you wanna fuck him?”
Sehun looks between them before he takes Chanyeol in a kiss.
“Fuck him,” he says with a moan.
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “And I…”
“And you,” Sehun says, “fuck me.”
Chanyeol lets the image sink into his head: his body at the bottom of the puppy pile, their bodies writhing in the sheets as the room fills to the ceiling with their moans.
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. He takes Chanyeol’s chin in his hands, dots a kiss to his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says.
The smile he gets feels like praise, and Junmyeon pulls the condom off of him, throws it across the room without a care.
“On your stomach,” Junmyeon whispers, and Chanyeol rises to it, falls to the bed on his front, hands tangling in the sheets.
It’s a moment before anything happens, so he gets up on his knees, arches his back. He misses the hands all over him. Misses their presence. He pushes his stomach as far down as it’ll go, pushing his ass out. Moans.
“Now isn’t that a pretty picture?” Junmyeon asks.
Sehun answers with a groan, and Chanyeol feels freshly wet fingers playing at his hole. He immediately drops, begins to grind into the bed. Fuck, it feels good. Feels better than good.
“How many times have you come inside him?” Junmyeon asks, and Chanyeol hears the ripping of the wrapper.
He looks back over his shoulder, and Junmyeon is rolling the condom on Sehun, kissing at the tops of his shoulders. It’s repetitive to think it, but they look so good together. So right.
“Too many times to count,” Sehun tells him, and Junmyeon hands Sehun the lube.
Sehun strokes himself slick, and Chanyeol looks front again, splitting his legs as wide as they’ll go.
“Oh,” Junmyeon whispers. “I’m jealous.”
Chanyeol whimpers, buries his face in the covers.
“Baby need something?”
Chanyeol looks back again, and Sehun puts a hand on his ass, spreads him.
“Come on,” Chanyeol says.
“You let him talk to you that way?” Junmyeon smirks.
Sehun doesn’t say anything, just pushes inside in a single, long stroke, erasing all the words from them.
“He won’t be doing much talking,” Sehun says.
“You know what,” Junmyeon says, and then Sehun’s moan punctures through everything, “I don’t think you will be either.”
Junmyeon is always right, especially when he instructs Sehun to move. Sehun pumps his hips back and forth, fucking and being fucked, and the sounds he makes only compound Chanyeol’s arousal.
“Good,” Junmyeon praises, fingers laced between Chanyeol’s spread ones, “good boy.”
The pace is thunderous, unrelenting, and Chanyeol forces himself up onto his knees, forces everyone back, only so that his cock doesn’t drag against the bed. It would only take a little friction to bring him off. He groans through it, guttural and from his stomach.
“Shit,” Sehun breathes. “Fuck, I’m—”
His hips stutter, the first sign of cracks in the facade.
“Down,” Junmyeon says, and he presses on Sehun’s back until they both collapse to the bed.
Junmyeon fucks Sehun hard, and the motion carries through, transfers through their bodies, and Chanyeol moans brokenly, precarious on the edge of orgasm.
It’s like that, viscerally good, until Junmyeon stops for a moment to let them catch their breaths.
“S-Suho,” Sehun moans.
Chanyeol turns, and Junmyeon drags Sehun into a kiss, fierce and deep.
“Call me Junmyeon,” he says when they part.
“Junmyeon,” Sehun smiles. “I have an idea.”
“Oh no,” Chanyeol says.
“Oh yes,” Sehun replies. “Here.”
And he drags them around, positioning them until he’s satisfied: Chanyeol on his hands and knees, Junmyeon at his front, Sehun at his back.
“Oh my fucking God,” Chanyeol whines, covering his face in shame.
“You like it,” Sehun says, and he rubs his cock through the lube dripping down Chanyeol’s hole, enough to make Chanyeol shiver, already so oversensitized. “Yeah, look at you. You like it.”
“Yes,” Chanyeol admits.
Apparently, that’s all that Sehun needs, because as soon as the word comes out of his mouth, Sehun is pushing inside him again, familiar, so familiar, but it feels so new when Junmyeon is staring at him, pulling the condom off and adding it to the growing pollution problem.
“Open up,” Junmyeon says as he taps his cock against Chanyeol’s pout. Chanyeol does, sucks the tip between his lips and swirls around it with his tongue. “Fuck. That’s it, baby.”
He takes Chanyeol’s ear lobe between his fingers, and coupled with Sehun’s thrusting, the stimulation is fucking unreal, unlike anything he’s ever had before. He moans, lets the head of Junmyeon’s cock pop out as he moans against Junmyeon’s skin.
“Suck it,” Junmyeon says, taking himself in his hand, feeding Chanyeol his cock as Sehun continues to just absolutely destroy him.
He’s being used, and it’s by them, and it’s stupid to be so happy about it, but he can’t help himself. He fucking loves it.
Chanyeol tries his very best to suck Junmyeon’s cock thoroughly, but he’s not sure he does it well. He must get points for his sloppy, wanton effort, because Junmyeon holds him by the hair and curses, moans getting higher and higher as he—
He pulls out, drags his cock through the mess of saliva along Chanyeol’s lips, and Chanyeol sucks at it.
“Sehun. My turn,” Junmyeon says.
“No,” Sehun whines. “I’m coming this way.”
“Come on his face,” Junmyeon says.
“Oh,” Sehun says. “Okay.”
Sehun’s smile is too bright, too beautiful as they switch places. Sehun moves in front of Chanyeol as Junmyeon moves behind, and Chanyeol is momentarily distracted by Sehun, pulled into a lush kiss as he strips the condom off. Junmyeon knows how to get his attention though, and he lays a sharp slap to Chanyeol’s ass, the sound of it cracking through the bedroom before he hears the fresh tearing of foil.
“F-fuck,” Chanyeol says, and he arches his back. Silently asks for another.
“Slut,” Sehun comments, but there’s so much love there, Chanyeol can feel it all over him, draped like silk.
When Sehun holds him by the chin, staring down at him, he can see love in his eyes, and Chanyeol smiles up at him, wondering how he missed it. Wondering how he ever thought it was just an act.
“Come on,” Sehun says. “Make me come. And then we’ll make you come.”
The two of them encircling him, bringing him to orgasm is too good of a deal to pass up, so when Junmyeon pushes him forward as he fucks into him, his mouth falls open, and he swallows Sehun as far as he can. He chokes a little on the length.
“Shit,” Sehun moans. “Fuck.”
Chanyeol balances on just one hand, uses the other to stroke along Sehun’s cock, bidding him forward. He draws back, tries his best as Junmyeon fucks him thoroughly, pulling him back by the hips.
He sucks hard on the tip of Sehun’s cock and is surprised when Sehun breathes out sharply, a shot of come leaking onto Chanyeol’s tongue.
“Oh, fuck, f-fuck,” Sehun groans, and he fucks shallowly into Chanyeol’s mouth as he tenses, shivers through his orgasm.
Chanyeol licks the head until Sehun laughs, draws back sharply.
“Fuck,” Sehun says, and he lies back. Waiting.
Chanyeol clenches hard as he looks at Sehun, body shining with sweat. Lips bitten red and hair messy.
“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “Shit. You want me to come?”
“Y-yes,” Chanyeol says. “Please.”
“Lie on your back,” Junmyeon says, and he directs him to lie in Sehun’s arms, their hands laced together.
He wriggles, the anticipation overwhelming. It feels like it’s been hours.
Sehun takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, and God, he’s so fucking on edge that he knows it won’t take long. And when Junmyeon starts to thrust in earnest again, the stroke fractured and syncopated, he shuts his eyes tight, curling his feet as he tries to hold it back for just another minute, another half-minute, another second.
“Come,” Sehun whispers.
Chanyeol lets go, lets go of it all, and as Junmyeon starts to fuck in sharply, Chanyeol tumbles over the edge. He comes harder than he can ever remember coming before, light behind his eyes and white noise in his ears as his body flares, burns brightly for what feels like forever.
His arched body falls back to the mattress, and Junmyeon’s body crumples on top of him, trembling as he comes, biting into Chanyeol’s neck as he does.
Tremendous silence follows all the noise, the pleasant, comforting kind that makes Chanyeol shut his eyes. Dream about drifting off to sleep with the two people he loves surrounding him.
“Bedtime,” Chanyeol whispers.
Sehun shakes as he laughs, and Junmyeon smiles.
“How did you make it without someone to take care of you?” Junmyeon laughs.
“I did pretty good,” Sehun says quietly.
Junmyeon smiles, surges forward to kiss him.
“Yeah, you did.”
It’s surreal, showering with two instead of just one. Curling into bed with two instead of just one. He lets himself dream: the possibility of this. The fantasy of it. Having them both. Getting to have them both. It felt so right.
They lay, wrapped in each other, and Chanyeol can’t stop thinking about it. Where they go from here.
But if he’s learned anything in the past several hours, it’s how to be upfront with his questions and his intentions.
“Where do we go from...from here?” Chanyeol wonders aloud.
Is this a one time thing? He doesn’t want that, but this is about more than just him. He’s got two people to care for now, and Lord knows that things in threes can get messy.
He looks up at Junmyeon who holds them both in his arms, and he looks between the two of them.
“I don’t see why we can’t merge these two operations,” Junmyeon says smartly.
“You think that would work?” Sehun laughs.
“It worked between us,” Junmyeon says. “It worked between you and Chanyeol. It worked between me and Chanyeol. How many more combinations are there?”
“None,” Sehun says.
“So,” Chanyeol says, “it stands to reason—”
“That it might work,” Junmyeon says. “That is, if all parties were in agreement.”
“Let’s vote. All in favor, say aye,” Chanyeol says. “Aye.”
Junmyeon smirks, devilishly handsome.
And their attention falls to Sehun, who smirks. Brat.
“You think you have enough money for two babies?” Sehun asks, poking Junmyeon in the stomach.
“For you two?” Junmyeon says, and he presses a kiss to Sehun’s forehead before turning back to Chanyeol, pressing a kiss to his forehead too. “You two have a blank check.”
Sehun smiles, and Chanyeol’s heart is as full as his bed.