Chanyeol’s life, as he knows it, ends on a Tuesday afternoon.
Or maybe it was the Friday before, when Coach Yongmin had called him into his office after practice, and delivered the news that would lead to his life, as he knows it, ending on a Tuesday afternoon.
It all depends on where you think the blame should lay, really.
These are the thoughts that percolate in Chanyeol’s mind as he lies on the ground, wheezing softly, the wind having been knocked out of him. He can faintly make out the sound of Sehun snickering, but there’s a louder, more alarming, ringing noise in his ears that cuts off the laughter. If it wasn’t somewhat a medical concern, Chanyeol would’ve accepted it as a gift from God, or an act of reparations, for blocking out Sehun’s incessant giggles after giving him to Chanyeol as the most annoying best friend in the world.
A pair of soft, tiny hands skitter nervously over his front, before coming around to cradle his head and support his shoulders, as they try to lift him into a sitting position. Unfortunately for the hands, the muscles he has amassed over years and years of varsity football lends itself to a particularly heavy weight, and he flops back on the ground uselessly when they accidentally drop him. He wheezes out another breath.
“Oh my God, are you okay? I’m so sorry, oh Jesus, oh my God. Please say you’re okay.” A voice says, interrupting the ringing in his ears. It may be the most angelic, most melodic voice he has ever heard in his 24 years of life.
The soft hands brush over his chest again, pausing to grip at his broad shoulders. They squeeze gently. Chanyeol grounds himself in the feeling as he scrabbles to a sitting position, chest heaving. The ringing noise and the pain he felt from dropping on the ground has faded, and is now replaced with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. “I’m okay,” he croaks.
Fighting through his mortification, Chanyeol gathers the courage to glance at the owner of the cute, small hands. Round, worried eyes belonging to the most beautiful person that Chanyeol has ever seen looks back at him. He’s kneeling next to Chanyeol with his legs tucked neatly underneath him. His hands are still on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and he thinks, pitifully, that it’d be nice if they stayed there forever.
“Are you okay?” The Most Beautiful Person Chanyeol Has Ever Seen says again. For a second, Chanyeol gets lost staring at the way his lips, plush and beautifully red, form the words. After a slight delay, Chanyeol nods dumbly. Somewhere behind his shoulder, Sehun’s snarky laugh is heard again.
“I’m okay,” he wheezes out, still nodding.
He’s not okay. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be okay again after this, and as if seeing his life flash before his eyes, he recalls the events that led to this moment here, where he made an absolute fool out of himself in front of The Most Beautiful Person.
It was a Monday.
Chanyeol distinctly remembers groaning and shoving his head under the pillow when his alarm starts ringing at 8 in the morning. It’s the middle of the summer, and he had grown accustomed to gaming with Baekhyun until ungodly hours and waking up in the late afternoon. If it weren’t for the fact that they have their first day of training camp, he would have thrown his phone across the room and gone back to sleep. But because it’s the middle of the summer, he immediately overheats, yanks the pillow off his head, and throws it to the ground instead.
It doesn’t feel as satisfying.
Just as he was about to force himself off the bed and to the washroom, the door flies open, and his best friend, who is unfortunately also his roommate, prances in with a wicked smile on his face and a jug of ice water in his hand.
Chanyeol eyes him, and then at the jug of water. The smile slowly drips off Sehun’s face like a popsicle melting in the heat. “Aw,” he whines.
“What’s that for?” Chanyeol asks, nodding at the water. He climbs off the bed and stretches out his limbs, feeling the tenseness from the knot in his neck and shoulders. He’s due for a physio appointment soon. And then he turns toward the full-length mirror hanging on his closet door—well, it was supposed to be full-length but he’s too tall for it—and flexes his biceps at his reflection. Just because he can.
The ice rattles in the jug ominously. “I was going to throw this on you to wake you up but you’re already awake. Boo.” Sehun scrutinizes him, and the way he’s admiring his muscles. “But maybe I should throw it on you anyway, since you’re being a weirdo.”
Typical Sehun, being a complete menace. “Please don’t do that,” he replies absentmindedly, still focused on his reflection.
Satisfied with the way his biceps and pectorals look today, Chanyeol smiles and pats his reflection on the mirror fondly. Pushing past Sehun with a playful tweak of his nipple, he ignores the younger boy’s squawking as he hums on his way to the washroom, singing a little ditty that he made up. He can already tell today is going to be a great day.
Practice is abysmal. Sure, he slacked off a little bit during the off season and maybe ate a few more bags of chips than his coach would approve, but this isn’t Chanyeol’s first rodeo. It’s not even his first time falling off the bucking bull—so to speak—and slipping into suboptimal shape. But he’s never had difficulties picking himself up from the metaphorical ground, no matter how sticky the floor is with booze and human sweat and other nasty unknown fluids, and perhaps the analogy has gotten away from him.
The point is: he has been playing football for years, and varsity as their star quarterback since he was a freshman. Every off season means he loses some of the training, yes, but Chanyeol knows how to play the game and he has the brain for it, and he builds it all back up quickly.
He heads into their first practice back with this in mind, and even clumsily gets through the drills with some degree of optimism as he finds himself crashing onto the cones or slipping on the dewy grass. But then they divide into two teams for a little squirmish, and Chanyeol finds himself fumbling with the ball. He drops it more than once when Minseok, their center, snaps the ball to him.
Sehun gets in trouble for laughing too hard at Chanyeol’s continual wipe outs and has to run laps.
By the end of practice, he has fallen on the ground more times than he can count, and fumbled with the ball enough that Assistant Coach Choi Minho has that pinched look on his face when he’s inwardly boiling with something he wants to say but is just barely suppressing it. Their kicker, Kim Jongdae, had once described him as a kettle who had been left on the stove for too long.
When both morning and evening practice are over, Sehun pats Chanyeol on the shoulder as he’s dejectedly wiping down his sweat. “Just a bad day today, bro. Brush it off, you’ll be back to normal tomorrow,” he said, comfortingly. For all the giggling and teasing he did during practice, Sehun is always a good friend at the end of the day, and Chanyeol has always appreciated that. And then he scrunches his face up, makes a disgusted noise, and wipes the sweat that transferred from Chanyeol’s shoulder to his palm on the older boy’s fresh t-shirt.
Except it doesn’t get better.
As the week goes on, Chanyeol becomes more and more acquainted with the grass than he ever has been—and that’s saying a lot, as a football player. He can tell the rest of the team is growing frustrated with him, and their usual jokes have an undercurrent of annoyance. It’s impossible not to let their attitudes get at his psyche, an inexorable pressure at his skull. Even Sehun, the most easygoing and mischievous of them all, has lost his smile by the time Thursday rolls around and Chanyeol is still messing up the plays that usually come as smooth as silk for him.
And look, Chanyeol has never been the most gracious of players. If there was one thing he was known for growing up, it was for being the tall, lanky, floppy-eared boy who clumsily stumbled around on coltish legs. That later changed to being the tall, muscular, floppy-eared man who clumsily stumbled around on well-muscled legs.
But in spite of his lack of grace, Chanyeol is still undeniably a top athlete. He’s the quarterback because as much as he likes to goof off and clown around, never afraid to make himself look like a fool if it means it gets someone to laugh, his mind is sharp and analytical with a competitive streak a mile wide, and he can make plays like no one else on the team. If that meant a stumble here or two, legs crossing wires and taking a spill—well, as long as it didn’t affect the team’s scoring record in the long run, Coach Yongmin never paid much attention to it, and neither did the team.
“Dude,” Jongin says after their last evening practice of the week. He’s sitting on the locker room bench with a towel wrapped around his neck, and looking absolutely like a model as he does so. Chanyeol hates him a little bit for that. “I think you’re cursed.”
“What do you mean?” Chanyeol asks. He knows what he means. Earlier in practice that day, Chanyeol accidentally tripped over Minseok’s legs, pulling them both down hard enough that the center is now nursing an ice pack to his shin. This happened just after the day before, where he accidentally stepped on their lineman’s finger after a tackle and nearly broke it. Zitao hasn’t looked at him since.
Jongin makes a reproachful noise. “You’re cursed, dude. What else could be the reason for how absolute dogshit you’ve been in practice this week?”
It stings, but he’s not wrong. “I have no clue, man.” Chanyeol tries to shrug nonchalantly, but he’s worried, too. Football has always come somewhat naturally to him, like breathing or like making fun of Sehun when he gets all flustered around the team’s personal trainer.
(“Someone has a cruuuuush,” Chanyeol teased one day after their gym routine. Sehun had spent the whole time monopolizing the trainer’s time and making googly eyes at him, asking for him to spot him even when literally the rest of the team could have done it for him.
“Shut up,” Sehun retorted, uncharacteristically flustered. “I do not have a crush on Junmyeon-hyung.”
Chanyeol is startled out of his thoughts when the door clangs noisily open behind him. With a flourish, their running back steps into the changing room.
“Guess who’s here, motherfuckers!” Baekhyun roars as soon as he enters.
“Jesus Christ!” Jongin exclaims from the bench, hand clutched to his chest like a fainting Victorian maiden. “Shut up already. What are you doing? Did you have to slam the door?”
Baekhyun gives him an impish look, but stops his horrid noise. “Yes. How else would I make an entrance?”
“No one on this team is normal,” Chanyeol laments. “Everyone is such a fucking weirdo.”
“You’re the last one to talk, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says. Jongin nods like the running back has a point—which, rude. “But, well, I guess you’re going to have to. Coach is looking to chat with you.”
A wave of nervousness flutters through Chanyeol. “Coach?”
“Yep.” He pops the p at the end of the word. “I ran into Coach Yongmin as I was leaving Minho’s office and he asked if I could find you. He said he needed a few words with you.”
“Now?” Chanyeol questions. Baekhyun nods in confirmation.
“You better get going. I think he’s waiting in his office.”
Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath. His palms feel sweaty all of a sudden, and he anxiously wipes them off on Jongin’s towel, ignoring his protests. Waving a hand at his two teammates as they wish him good luck, he pushes himself out the door and heads straight towards the office.
There could only be one reason why Coach Yongmin would want to talk to him privately right now.
“We need to talk about your—your plays lately, Chanyeol,” is the first thing out of Coach Yongmin’s mouth after Chanyeol had deposited himself in the uncomfortable, rustic barstool that’s placed in front of the desk. The coach, himself, is reclined in a large, leather office chair and looking every bit like a villain as he does so. He’s only missing a cat on his lap at this point. Despite being a relatively unassuming-looking fellow, Chanyeol can’t help but feel diminutive around him.
Chanyeol’s heart sinks at his words. He knew it. The way he’s been playing has been too uncharacteristically abysmal for the coaching team to let slide. Cowered, he nods meekly, staring at the scratched oak desk.
“You’ve got a great head for the game,” Coach Yongmin continues. “And, God, if you’re not one of the fastest, strongest runners I’ve seen in all my years of coaching at the collegiate level.” His kind words do little to lift Chanyeol’s spirits. He knows something is coming. “You’re not our quarterback for no reason.”
“Thank you, Coach,” Chanyeol replies, voice weak.
The coach pauses before continuing on. “But we need to talk about how you’ve been playing during practice this week.” He pauses again, waiting for Chanyeol’s acknowledgement. The quarterback only nods again, shame settling hot and heavy in his belly.
Maybe his coach sees it in his face, or in the way he’s hunching in on himself, because he sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “You being clumsy isn’t abnormal by any means, Chanyeol. You know that. I know that. Hell, our rival schools know that and try to exploit it year after year. But how frequently you’ve been missing plays or, even worse, tripping over yourself and then tripping others has been,” he hesitates, “strange,” he concludes delicately.
“I know, Coach,” Chanyeol says miserably. He feels like a child getting chastised by his dad for sticking his grubby hands into the cookie jar.
“You know Zitao spent half an hour crying in my office about how his finger hurts too much to wear his favourite ring and now his outfits are ruined?” The coach sighs again, rubbing again at the bridge of his nose.
Another pang of guilt strikes Chanyeol hot, and he nods glumly. “I promise I’m working on it, Coach. I don’t know what happened, but I promise I’m working hard to fix it.” Except he doesn’t know where to start, because suddenly it’s like his balance is all wrong and his limbs aren’t working.
Sagely, Coach Yongmin steeples his fingers and leans forward a tad. “Chanyeol,” he starts, voice somber. “You know I care for you. Heck, this whole team has become like the children I never asked for. You know my door is always open for you boys, even if most of you don’t come to me about your personal life besides Zitao.” It’s true, the coach had never been the gruff, unfeeling man that most Hollywood movies tend to portray football coaches. Sure, he stumbled awkwardly through personal conversations, but he had always been heartfelt about his concern for the team. It’s also true that Zitao tends to overshare. “I just wanted to reiterate that to you. If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m all ears. We can work on it together.”
Warmth rushes through Chanyeol at his words—he can’t help but feel a little touched by Coach Yongmin checking in on his well-being before, god forbid it, kicking him off the team or benching him for his ineptitude. But there’s nothing wrong, at least nothing that he’s consciously aware of, and he shakes his head with a genuine thank you.
The coach looks skeptical, and he leans forward even closer. The eye contact is a little intense, and the quarterback can’t help but squirm a little. “Are you sure?” he asks Chanyeol. “Even if you have...boy problems,” his voice drops down to a whisper. “I want you to feel supported on this team.”
Chanyeol flushes in embarrassment, and he’s sure his ears are red now. He’s quietly out on the team, in the way where he never explicitly came out but is clear enough about his disinterest in women that he never has had to. It has never been a problem on the team, except for Choi Siwon back in first year, but that was a problem quickly taken care of.
Still, that doesn’t mean he’s interested in discussing his romantic life with his coach—or lack thereof. Not for lack of interested suitors though. Once Chanyeol grew into his ears, his popularity shot up as quick as his height did. “There’s nothing wrong,” he repeats.
Coach Yongmin still doesn’t look satisfied with his answer, but he sits back in his chair anyway. The leather makes a loud squeaking noise from the shift in weight. “Well, if there’s anything you do ever wanna talk about, you know where to find me,” he says doubtfully. “Let’s explore other reasons that may be causing your sudden...well, whatever is affecting your ability to play, then.”
It turns out the next step that Coach Yongmin had in mind was to take him to Junmyeon the personal trainer. Football is a demanding sport, and Chanyeol has always trained to maintain his strength, power, speed, and reflexes using the controlled and strict regimen implemented by Junmyeon.
Now, Junmyeon takes his physical measurements first. He makes a humming noise after the physical, but before Chanyeol can question him, he hustles the quarterback towards the gym to go through a series of workouts to test his capabilities.
It’s nothing too far from the regular routine besides being shortened: Olympic lifts, squats, deadlifts, barbell presses, circuit training, ballistic work, cardio drills. These, he all completes with varying degrees of success. He stumbles a few times, but any other marked decrease in performance could easily be chalked up to off-season rustiness.
When he gets to the agility drills, however, Chanyeol finds himself struggling to keep up. Junmyeon takes him through the usual footwork drill, box drill, and various line drills—and Chanyeol wipes out mid-side shuffle. The same happens when he tackles—figuratively—the dynamic stability and core exercises and finds that he now struggles to balance on the wobble boards.
The cool-down stretches feel like they last agonizingly long to Chanyeol. Layers of disappointment and shame settle on him like sediment, and he hangs his head as he watches Junmyeon calmly scribble down the last of his notes on his clipboard. While they usually have these performance checks before the beginning of the season anyway, theirs wasn’t scheduled until early next week. The fact that his performance has been so remarkably horrible that they bumped it up--and that he performed the worst that he ever has—leaves a hot, heavy lump in his throat that he can’t quite swallow past.
Junmyeon leaves him to cool down and shower off some of the sweat with a placating smile and a comforting pat on his broad shoulders, but it does little to soothe him. “Come meet us at Yongmin-hyung’s office when you’re done. Take your time,” he instructs him.
Both Junmyeon and Coach Yongmin are sitting behind the desk, having dragged a second chair in from somewhere, when Chanyeol enters with a timid knock that’s unlike him. He’s used to having a big presence and a big body to match. Sehun tells him he takes up too much space sometimes, loud and boisterous, but Chanyeol is just feels so much sometimes that his body can’t contain it.
They don’t waste any more time once Chanyeol sits down. “It’s your center of gravity,” Junmyeon says.
“Your center of gravity,” he repeats. “You’ve grown a few inches and its thrown off your sense of balance. You were clumsy enough to begin with, but this sudden growth spurt certainly didn’t help.”
Chanyeol stares dumbly at the two of them. The science of it sounds—faulty. Silly, to say the least. Who in the world suddenly can’t function because he grew a few inches?
Maybe Junmyeon notices the look on his face, because he purses his lips and slides his clipboard across the desk. On it are incredibly messy scribbles and numbers that Chanyeol can barely make out. It takes a few seconds before he understands them as the notes he had taken during their testing, along with his physical measurements that were taken. It doesn’t shed much more light on the issue.
Heaving an impatient sigh, the trainer taps his pen on the paper. “It’s not noticeable enough when you’re walking—or else you would get tall people tripping everywhere like Bambi, if physics worked that way. But because football requires you to engage with a sense of balance and agility, it becomes apparent when you try to play.”
The explanation somewhat makes sense to Chanyeol, albeit still ridiculous. He knows that for many other sports, that the centre of gravity was integral to the sport itself. His friend, Sooyoung, had complained before about how her sudden growth spurt had messed with her figure skating performances before. But he’s 22—and he’s still growing enough that it fucked up his football?
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“We have a solution,” his coach says suddenly. The look on his face is serious, the lines around his mouth creased in a frown. “It was Junmyeon’s idea, but he’s confident it may help.”
Chanyeol turns to look at Junmyeon, who’s nodding sagely. “Yes, do not worry, Chanyeol. This should be quite an easy fix, I’m certain of it. We’ll get you back in tip-top shape in no time.”
His words bring an immediate rush of relief to Chanyeol, and he feels his back slumping from a sudden release of tension that he wasn’t even aware he was holding. “What is it?”
“Before you came in here, I spoke with an old friend of mine,” Junmyeon begins, taking out his phone and quickly typing something in. Chanyeol has to give it to them—their coaching team worked quickly. “And he said he usually doesn’t take students this close to the start of a class, but he’ll make an exception for us because he knows how important you are to the team.”
Wild images flit through Chanyeol’s mind. Who could Junmyeon have contacted? A military bootcamp leader? An NFL coach? A retired NFL player?
Whatever he was tapping into the phone must have finished loading, because Junmyeon then slides his phone across the table. He points at the screen, indicating for the quarterback to take a look.
Gingerly, with great trepidation, Chanyeol picks up the phone. It’s open on an Instagram page. A quick glance at the top of the screen reveals the username: dks_pilates. The description underneath the icon is brief and concise: “SM Studios / SM Barre. Clinical Pilates & Barre.”
Pilates. The single word stands out to Chanyeol, and he swallows heavily, his heart thudding. “You...you want me to...” he trails off, mouth sputtering unattractively as he gapes at Coach Yongmin and Junmyeon.
Junmyeon nods, face completely serious. Next to him, Chanyeol swears he can spot the barest hint of a smirk on his coach’s face. “Yes. Do Kyungsoo is the instructor’s name. He’s amazing at what he does, and he promised he would return you to our team better than ever.”
Chanyeol looks back down at the phone. The most recent post shows a man hoisting himself up on a steel frame, his legs—which are slotted through metal bars hanging down the side—are in a perfect split. He hangs there in perfect balance, suspended, for a few seconds, before pulling himself over top of the frame with only his core strength. The rest of his feed holds a similar theme; of what seems to be the same man demonstrating incredible flexibility on what Chanyeol assumes to be pilates equipment.
He scratches his brow nervously. There’s no way in hell he would be able to do that. While he doesn’t know much—or really, anything at all—about pilates, it’s evident that It takes incredible control of one’s own body, impeccable core strength, and flexibility to pull off what Do Kyungsoo is doing. Chanyeol thinks he wouldn’t be able to even attempt the splits without straining his groin.
When he voices his concerns to the coaching team, Yongmin just chuckles. “Of course you won’t be able to get to his level. He’s a professional and he’s been doing this for years. But all those skills you pointed out? That’s exactly what he’ll be helping you improve. This is simply the best way for you to get your shit together, Chanyeol.”
Despite the logical sense it makes, doubt still simmers underneath the surface. He’s not happy about this, but what alternative does he have?
Junmyeon smiles, but once again, it doesn’t feel very comforting. “It’ll be an 8-week course, just in time for our season to start in early September. You’ll be going to classes every Tuesday, at 1:00 PM. And of course, we’ll be covering the costs.” His smile turns a little grim. “We expect you to attend each and every one of these classes, Chanyeol. We need our star quarterback.”
And that, folks, is what takes us to the Tuesday afternoon that marks a significant shift in Chanyeol’s life.
The studio isn’t too far from his and Sehun’s flat—maybe a twenty minute walk at most—but he readies himself a full half-hour just in case. When he walks out of his room, Sehun is waiting for him in the kitchen, already dressed in training wear.
When Sehun found out about his impending pilates classes, he had laughed at Chanyeol for a full minute—and then some. In the end, it didn’t matter too much though because he later offered to take the classes with Chanyeol, at least during the drop-in period, as a sign of support. Or for blackmail material. But in any case, Chanyeol is just glad he’s not doing this alone.
“Ready to go?” Sehun asks. Chanyeol sighs, but nods.
“Better to get this over with,” he replies, throwing his keys into his gym bag.
SM Studios is a small, squat building with large windows and a well-lit interior. The reception area is sleek and inviting that boasts warm lighting. Natural stone lines the walls and floorings, with wood accents. Leafy green plants complement the interiors, aided with the natural light flooding in through the windows.
There’s a handsome man standing behind the reception’s desk, and he smiles charmingly at them with dimpled cheeks when they walk in. He’s clearly fit, showing off well-muscled arms with his sleeveless shirt.
“Welcome to SM Studios!” he chirps at them. His Korean is slightly accented, and when Chanyeol reads the ID badge on a lanyard around his neck, he sees that his name is Yixing. “Are you here for a class?”
Chanyeol nods, glancing at Sehun. “I’m Park Chanyeol—that’s Oh Sehun,” he answers.
The trainer nods, just as sunnily as he greeted them, and types something into the computer stationed at the desk. “Afternoon matwork class with Do Kyungsoo?”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol confirms, although he’s not sure what matwork means.
“Great, thank you! Let me show you the changerooms and where your class will be.” He beckons them to follow him. He leads them down a hallway lined with large mirrors. They pass by several studio rooms, some of which have the steel-frame equipment that Chanyeol had seen in the trainer’s Instagram. “This is the one you’re looking for,” Yixing points out as they walk past the last door in the hall. “We’re a small studio, so we only have three rooms right now. The change rooms are at the end here.”
He leaves them to change and stow away their belongings. Once they’re done, they head for the studio room that Yixing had mentioned earlier. There’s already a few people inside, some of them already staking out one of the thirty-or-so foam mats laid out neatly on the ground, but none of them seem to be the trainer. A quick glance around confirms Chanyeol’s initial suspicions—him and Sehun are the only men in the room.
“Are you nervous?” Sehun asks. They stand towards the far wall, idling near the last row of mats. Some of the ladies in the room sneak glances towards them, probably wondering what two tall, bulky men are doing in the class. As always, Sehun seems unfazed by the attention, but Chanyeol feels a flutter of nervousness in his belly.
“A little,” he answers honestly. “I just hope that however these classes goes, it works as Junmyeon thinks it will and I can go back to being a quarterback.”
Sehun frowns at him at that. “You’re not thinking something dumb about how you’re too manly for pilates, are you?”
“No!” Chanyeol retorts, affronted. “I’m not some meathead, you know that. I don’t care about—”
And then all protests die on his lips. The door to the studio had open at some point during their conversation, the muffled click of the door drawing his attention. He swivels his head to look at the newcomer—and freezes, body going stock-still. The quiet murmuring must be continuing, and he can distantly hear Sehun talking in his ear, but it’s like someone had hit the mute button because all Chanyeol can focus on is the person walking in.
Entering into the room is the most beautiful person that Chanyeol has ever seen.
He’s small, probably a head shorter than Chanyeol at least, with delicate shoulders and a long, slender neck. His face is round, but his features are compact like a doll’s. Despite his appearance, though, Chanyeol recognizes the litheness of his body, how toned and strong his arms look even in a loose t-shirt. He can’t help the frisson of heat that snakes through his spine when he notices the tight leggings encasing plump, strong thighs—and fuck if that isn’t the most beautiful ass he’s ever seen, perfectly round and perky, jiggling slightly from his movements. He can’t tear his eyes away from him as he watches him make his way to the front of the room, his form elegant and nimble.
Whoever he is, he’s gorgeous.
He swears he feels his heart stop when he turns to face them, gently clapping his hands once, and then twice. It’s not loud, nor is it aggressive, but it captures the room’s attention nonetheless.
“Hello—um—hi everyone. I’m—my name is Do Kyungsoo,” he says, stammering a little. His voice is soft and low, but Chanyeol finds himself hopelessly falling in love with the sound of it anyway. “I’ll be your instructor for the next few weeks. It’s nice to meet everyone.” He bows towards them, his body at a perfect 90-degree angle. When he straightens up again, he has a small, sweet smile on his face. A slender hand comes up to comb his bang out of his eyes.
The universe must be either rewarding him or punishing him, Chanyeol thinks, as his heart pounds faster than it should be. He has no idea how he’s going to survive the following 8 weeks in a class taught by the most beautiful man he has ever seen.
When he speaks, its filled with pauses and hesitations, like his brain is quietly parsing out the best way to explain his approach to pilates. He takes them through the proper pelvic positions, and reminds them to be mindful of their breathing and of any pain. His presence is soft, but commanding, and Chanyeol finds himself amazed that even Sehun is fully listening as Kyungsoo launches into the first mat exercise. Chanyeol fights off a horrible blush when he warns the class that he will be touching people’s arms, thighs, and back to help adjust them to the proper position.
It starts out easy enough, with Kyungsoo demonstrating the workouts on his own mat at the front of the room. By the end of the first workout, beads of sweat have already begun lining his forehead. A sense of relief washes over him when he sneaks a peek at Sehun and sees the other boy is in a similar state, albeit with his characteristic stoic mask in place. His hopes are lifted as they go through the different beginner exercises, and that he finds that he takes to them quite easily. Kyungsoo has to pause several times to adjust some of the other students, and while he can see some impatient looks on some faces, Chanyeol can’t help but feel awed at the deep patience with which he corrects their mistakes.
“This is called the shoulder bridge exercise,” Kyungsoo explains. Chanyeol has to drag his eyes forcefully away from the plushness of Kyungsoo’s thigh as he raises one leg straight in the air, the other leg propped up and highlighting the curve of his buttocks. “You’ll really feel it in your glutes and abs, but it’s great for mobility and developing stability. And remember, if you feel like this position is painful, listen to your body!”
Settling his back on the mat, Chanyeol bends his knees with his arms pressed into the mat by his sides. Listening to Kyungsoo’s instructions, he lifts his pelvis off the mat while maintaining a straight line from his hips to his shoulders. Already, he can feel his abdominal muscles clenching and flexing as he holds the position.
Then, he lifts his leg up in the air, attempting to mirror the perfect 90-degree angle that Kyungsoo is holding. He feels a burning sensation as he does so, but ignores it. Kyungsoo had instructed them to listen to their body if there was any pain, but this is nothing he can’t handle—until he promptly yelps when he feels a sudden, agonizing cramp near his inner thigh, right at the joint where it meets his groin. The pain is sharp enough to snap him out of the position, and he falls back onto the mat with an embarrassing cry, clutching onto his thigh.
Hearing his cry of pain, Kyungsoo moves immediately and swiftly, bounding up from the mat and running towards Chanyeol. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice steady even as he bites down on his bottom lip in worry. Chanyeol hates that he’s still fighting off waves of pain because he can’t even focus on how beautifully plump and full the other man’s lips are at the moment.
“C-Cramp,” Chanyeol chokes out.
Kyungsoo nods calmly. “Lay down, sir, and just let yourself relax and untense. You might have overexerted yourself.” His voice is comforting, like he has done this a million times before. He probably has. “Where are you cramping? I’ll help you stretch and massage out the muscle.” His hands float towards Chanyeol, slowly, as if he’s asking for permission first. Blaring, red sirens go off in Chanyeol’s head, as he pictures the other man’s dainty hands on his, massaging his groin, and he feels himself stiffening—and oh god, he can’t let that happen, he doesn’t want the most beautiful person he has ever seen to think he’s a creep already—and in his panic, he tries standing up.
Only to stumble on his feet, the twinge of the cramp still painful, his shoes suddenly feeling three sizes too big for him. This time, he crashes down hard, his limbs tangling up in a jumble and his breath getting knocked out of him as he lands on his back. He hears the shocked gasps from the rest of the students in the room, the startled cry falling from Do Kyungsoo’s beautiful lips, and the sound of Sehun breaking into terrible, unhelpful snickers.
In that moment, Chanyeol curses his life, curses Junmyeon and Coach Junmyeon for introducing this class to him, Sehun for bearing witness to his embarrassment, to Kyungsoo for being too beautiful for Chanyeol to function, for football being important enough for him that he knows he will be back—and last of all, he curses the semi he still sports.
“This is how my life ends,” Chanyeol thinks, wheezing as he shakily recovers from the whole horrific episode with Kyungsoo’s soft hands on him in worry, “This is how my life ends on a Tuesday afternoon.”
Later, after Kyungsoo shyly thanks and dismisses the class and Chanyeol returns home with his head hanging down low in shame and embarrassment, Sehun asks, “what was wrong with you, dude? You were a mess.”
Chanyeol doesn’t even bother hiding it. “He is so fucking beautiful, Sehun. I have never seen a more beautiful man than him.”
At that, Sehun laughs, although only verging on the side of sympathetic instead of flat-out mockery. “At least you made a memorable first impression on him.”
A week passes by uneventfully, and when Tuesday springs on his doorstep again, Chanyeol feels revved and ready to go. He finishes getting ready early, and even changes into his workout clothing before him and Sehun are set to leave.
He’s had time to process the embarrassment of the first class, and with some handholding from his friends—literally with Sehun, figuratively with Baekhyun while playing Overwatch—Chanyeol has come to terms that yes, he made an absolute clown of himself, and yes, he left a less-than-impressive mark on beautiful Do Kyungsoo. But if varsity football taught him one thing, it’s to never let trials and tribulations hinder his ambitions.
Ambitions, in this case, now being a two-pronged road. On one hand, it encompasses both the overarching goal to achieve optimal fitness levels to return proudly to the team; and on the other hand, Chanyeol has set his sights on a new goal: to make beautiful Do Kyungsoo fall in love with him.
He’s even done research on this.
With a good fifteen minutes to spare before they have to set out, Chanyeol takes the time to study himself in the floor-length mirror hanging in his room. As always, he bends slightly at the knees so he can shrink himself enough to see his own reflection, but straightens back up again when he notices how slouched he looks.
He turns to his side. He’s wearing his favourite muscle shirt, with wide arm-holes that accentuate his thick biceps. Chanyeol flexes, and then nods firmly. Yep, his arms look great. Puffing out his chest, he admires the way his pecs look through the soft, black material of the shirt. If he were to be honest, Chanyeol would admit that he’s a pretty good-looking guy, and hey, he can’t be blamed for trying to look a little nicer at pilates class.
“Are you jacking off in here? Let’s head out!” Sehun’s voice comes through the door, mere seconds before said person slams the door open regardless of Chanyeol’s privacy. If it was anyone else—like beautiful Do Kyungsoo—Chanyeol might have felt embarrassed at being caught admiring himself in the mirror. But it’s Sehun, his best friend for years, and they’ve lived together long enough that Sehun has seen much worse from him.
“Let’s go,” Sehun says again, the tone of his voice a bit impatient. He taps his bare foot on the floor, muffled by the carpet.
Chanyeol nods, before turning his back to the mirror and craning his head back, but it’s an awkward angle and his neck hurts. “Wait,” he says. “How do my traps look, bro?” He wants to make sure that every angle, every muscle of his is defined and perfect when he enters that studio room.
“I don’t know. Like normal,” Sehun replies, a look of disinterest on his face.
“No, like, do they look good? How about my shoulders?”
“If you’re asking whether or not I would sleep with you based on your muscles alone, then no.” Chanyeol pouts at that. “But if you’re asking whether Do Kyungsoo would, then probably. If he’s into idiots, that is.”
“Hey!” Chanyeol says, affronted. “I’m not an idiot. Besides, he might not even be into guys.” Still, Chanyeol puffs his chest out proudly at Sehun’s indirect compliment, even if it was embedded within layers of judgment. He’ll take what he can get.
Sehun shrugs. “Whatever, I don’t care. I’m just going to class so I can impress Junmyeon.”
“Good luck with that,” Chanyeol snorts. “You have even less of a chance than me. You’re too young for him, and he has smelled your B.O way too many times.”
“He probably thinks you’re gross.”
Sehun glowers at him. “Shut up. I’ll get you back for that.”
Shaking his head, Chanyeol finally stops posing in front of his mirror and grabs his bag. He moves to leave the room, pauses, and then takes one last look at his face and hair in the mirror—and nods, once again pleased with how he looks.
“You know you’re just going to sweat all that hair mousse out?” Sehun asks as they head out the door. Chanyeol decides, rather generously in his opinion, to ignore him.
There’s someone different at the front desk when they arrive. Her lanyard reads “Kang Jihyun,” and she greets them brightly as they pass by on their way to the change rooms.
Unlike last time, the men’s change room has a few people still milling around. They nod politely at Sehun and Chanyeol when they enter, but otherwise remain engaged in their conversation. They leave not too soon after. It’s only Sehun and Chanyeol left in the room now.
“Ready?” Sehun asks, tapping out a message on his phone before shoving it into his locker.
Chanyeol fidgets, plucking at the hem of his muscle shirt. “You go first,” he says. “I gotta pee.”
His friend shrugs, waving at him as he walks out the door. Once he’s gone, Chanyeol hurriedly unlocks his phone and opens up his browser to the last page he had visited. He scrolls past the title—”6 Ways to Make Your Hot Trainer Fall in Love With You”—and skips past the first suggestion that advises the reader to accentuate their ass and wear a low-cropped shirt. Clearly, this article was written for someone with a different physique than Chanyeol.
The second suggestion is what he wants, and he reads it over quickly.
...humans are hardwired to respond positively to sweat. Our natural pheromones are released through emitting body scents, and the easiest way to do this is to sweat it out. Of course, no one wants to smell bad around her crush. Lucky for us gals, we discovered that mimicking even the appearance of sweat will be enough to do it. Spritz some water along your nape and cleavage and your hot gym trainer will fall in love with you immediately!
Ignoring the gendered pronouns in the article, Chanyeol marches determinedly towards the sink. The science behind the article does, admittedly, seem a little flawed—after all, he’s surrounded by sweaty men all day as an athlete and has never once felt any attraction towards them. But he workshopped the idea with Baekhyun during their Overwatch game and the running back had insisted that it would work.
(“Noooo! I got headshotted by the Widowmaker on their team,” Baekhyun’s angry voice came filtering through Chanyeol’s shitty headphones. “Anyway, bro, you gotta show Kyungsoo your guns. Looking all sweaty will accentuate your ripped muscles, I swear to god. It works on me when it’s Minseok.”
Chanyeol wrinkles his nose. “Gross. I’ll be sweaty no matter what though. It's a pilates class. It’s a workout.”
Baekhyun makes an impatient noise, and doesn’t respond for a moment as he focuses on the game. Chanyeol watches the kill feed and sees that he dies a moment later. “Fuck,” Baekhyun curses. “Anyway, I think you should optimize the duration for which you are sweaty. Show up sweaty to make up for your lack of composure last week. Sweat from start to finish. Really get his eyes on you right away. Plus, you could say you did a workout beforehand and he might be impressed by your athletic prowess.”
“You think so?” Chanyeol asks.
“Yeah, of course! Turn the sweat up to the max. I promise you, I’m on the verge of licking Minseok’s biceps whenever he gets all sweaty.” And then Baekhyun sighs. “If only I was his type.” Everyone on the team knows that Minseok has a crush on Shim Changmin from their rival team at Hongik University.
Chanyeol mulls it over. His hesitations are mostly gone now, erased by the surety in Baekhyun’s voice. He had always been easily swayed by his friend’s opinions. “Maybe I’ll try it out.”)
Mouth set in a firm line, Chanyeol turns on the sink. He lets the cool water pool in the palm of his hands, and in one decisive motion, he splashes his face with the water. Some of the water dribbles down onto his neck, and he manually wipes more of it onto his exposed biceps.
Looking at the mirror, Chanyeol has to agree that he looks pretty good—albeit more wet than anything. He doubts anyone would be able to tell the difference. His arms gleam in the light, the water creating a nice sheen that accentuates the line of his muscles. Satisfied, Chanyeol wipes his hand and locks up his bag.
When he nears the studio room, he notices Sehun standing right outside the door. It looks like he’s chatting with someone, but his tall, lean body blocks his conversation partner from Chanyeol’s view. It isn’t until he’s clapping a familiar hand over Sehun’s shoulder that he notices that his friend is talking to beautiful Do Kyungsoo.
He trips on his feet a little when he notices the smaller man standing there, his arms crossed as he nods patiently to whatever Sehun is saying. Just like last week, Chanyeol’s heart flutters in his chest as he drinks in the way Kyungsoo’s bangs fall across his forehead. He’s wearing a similar outfit to the last class—a baggy t-shirt that exposes his delicate collarbones, and a tight-fitting pair of dark leggings that hug all his curves and muscles perfectly. It’s a simple outfit. One that wouldn’t have caught Chanyeol’s attention on anyone else. But, well, it’s Do Kyungsoo.
“Hello again,” Kyungsoo says when he notices Chanyeol joining them. “Park Chanyeol, right? Junmyeon told me about you and Sehun. I hope you’re feeling better after last class.” His eyes are big and curious as he cranes his neck up to meet Chanyeol’s gaze. There’s something charmingly sweet about the way his eyes widen, and the taller man feels his palm go sweaty with how beautiful Kyungsoo looks with such a simple gesture.
Sehun doesn’t bother sparing him a glance before rattling on. He’s talking about Junmyeon, latching onto Kyungsoo’s brief mention of the trainer.
“H-Hi, Chanyeol—I mean. I’m Chanyeol. You’re Kyungsoo. Hello!” he stumbles awkwardly, finishing his sentence with a feeble wave. The look on Kyungsoo’s face is puzzled, but he lets out a small giggle at Chanyeol’s fumbling. Chanyeol rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. The pilates instructor follows the action with his eyes, letting out a small gasp a second later.
“You’re—are you okay?” he asks. Chanyeol almost swoons from how sweet his soft voice is, before focusing on his question. Confused, he looks down at himself. “You’re, um, you’re very. Wet?”
At his words, Sehun finally shuts up and turns to look at Chanyeol. Amusement lights up his eyes as soon as he takes in Chanyeol’s state, dragging his eyes over the sheen of moisture covering his face and muscles. There’s a distinct look of judgment on his face.
Suddenly, Baekhyun’s plan doesn’t seem all too convincing. Chanyeol swallows, loosening the collar of his muscle shirt. A wave of embarrassment crashes over him when Kyungsoo follows the movement again, this time dragging his eyes down the line of his neck and his thick arms. Any other time, Chanyeol would have thought the other man was checking him out—but the puzzled look on the smaller man’s face does not leave.
“Yeah!” His voice comes out a little wrangled, too high pitched to be natural. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah. Just. You know, a little warm. Whew, must be hot in here. Hahahahaha.” Trailing off awkwardly, he tugs again at the neckline of his shirt.
“Hot?” Kyungsoo echoes. The smaller man’s eyes linger on his neck. Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath when he notices the tinge of red blossoming across the tip of his ears and along his cheeks. Some people, like Sehun, looked ugly and blotchy when they blushed. On Kyungsoo, though, Chanyeol finds the rosiness quite charming.
Sehun’s gasp jolts him out of his thoughts. “Oh no!” he cries out dramatically. Both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo whip their heads to look at him. The other man has his hands covering his mouth in fake shock. His eyebrows raised so high on his forehead that Chanyeol swears they’re about to flutter off the top of his head. “Oh no!” he gasps again.
“Dude, what’s with you?” Chanyeol asks at the same time Kyungsoo makes the cutest and smallest questioning noise, cocking his head to the side like a little puppy or something. He wants to die. How is everything he does so adorable.
“Chanyeol!” Sehun shouts. He flinches at the sudden noise, watching the way Kyungsoo’s head whips back towards him again. “Chanyeol, oh no! You are sick! Aren’t you!”
“Oh dear, oh my! Chanyeol, oh God! You must stop trying to act so strong!” Chanyeol has no idea what Sehun is up to, but his voice is clearly theatrical. Rolling his eyes, Chanyeol turns to face Kyungsoo to clear up the air. No one is going to believe his act, he’s sure. Before he gets a chance to speak, however, Sehun throws himself at Chanyeol, wrapping a long arm around his shoulders. “Look how warm you are! No wonder you’re all—sweaty—you must be running up quite a fever right now!”
“A fever?” Kyungsoo speaks up. And then the next thing he knows, the smaller man is reaching up on his tiptoes, hand outstretched to check his temperature. His hand is warm and tiny against Chanyeol’s forehead. This close in proximity, Chanyeol can smell the sweet vanilla honey scent from Kyungsoo’s body wash. He smells like Chanyeol’s dream.
For a moment, he forgets about Sehun’s strange antics as he stares at the way Kyungsoo worries at his plump bottom lip with his teeth. He wonders if he would bite down on his lip like that if Chanyeol was fucking hi—
His face heats up even hotter at his thoughts. A little belatedly, he remembers that he should be defending himself. “Oh Sehun, why are you acting like this? I’m fine. More than fine. Ready for pilates kind of fine.”
Kyungsoo drops his hand, taking a step back. There’s a pang in his stomach at the loss, his face suddenly feeling too cool for his liking. “You’re right, Sehun. He feels a little warm.”
Chanyeol has no idea what’s happening. “You’re fine,” he says to Kyungsoo, before realizing what escaped his lips. He hears Sehun muffle a snicker. “I mean—no, I’m fine. I’m not sick.”
“I think you should sit this one out, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says. There’s a crease between his brows, furrowed intensely as he studies the taller man. “Your health is more important. You should rest well and eat a healthy meal.” Chanyeol moves to protest, but Kyungsoo continues on. “I think you’re amazing for trying your best to come here, even when you’re not feeling well. But I want you to take care of yourself more than anything, okay? I’ll extend your class by a week at the end since you’re missing this one.”
Then, he smiles. It’s different than the one he had when he introduced himself last week, or when he greeted Chanyeol earlier. It’s softer, his eyes crinkling in the corners, lips drawing up into a heart shape that stuns him with how gorgeous it is.
He must take his silence as acceptance, because he loosely clasps his hand around Sehun’s elbow to usher him into the studio. Envy shoots through him at the contact, but before he can say anything else, Kyungsoo pulls him into the room and they both disappear behind the door.
And then Chanyeol is left standing there, alone, still dripping with water in the hallway. Without knowing what to do, he leaves, cursing Sehun the whole way home.
Chanyeol: dude, what was that for
Sehun: just saving u from urself. why would u show up like that lmao
Sehun: also, i said i would get u back, didn’t i
Sehun: i said i would get u back since u insulted me and junmyeon
Chanyeol: i only insulted u, not junmyeon
Chanyeol: at least i didn’t ruin your chances with junmyeon :/ this messes up with my progress with pilates, and by extension, football too
Sehun: u’ll be fine lol. besides, now u can see kyungsoo for an extra week. that’s 9 weeks in a row u get to see him, since he extended ur lessons by a week
Sehun: ur welcome
When Chanyeol recounts his mess of his life in the first two weeks of pilates class to Jongin during one early morning practice, the other boy shakes his head sadly and repeats, “you really are cursed, aren’t you?” While not normally superstitious, the taller man feels inclined to agree at this point.
Beautiful Do Kyungsoo must think he’s a bumbling idiot, Chanyeol realizes. It’s a discouraging thought.
Thankfully, the next two weeks pass by without any further hitches. It’s inevitable that he gets distracted with Kyungsoo’s earnest eyes and low voice as he patiently takes them through the workouts, and he’s even more helpless when they highlight the roundness of his buttocks, the thickness of his thighs, the leanness of his arms. It’s even worse when Kyungsoo comes close to adjust his positions, his small hand on Chanyeol’s back or on his hips, gentle in maneuvering him on the mat. He’s had to fight off a boner each time.
But at the very least, he’s getting through the exercises. No more cramping when he does the shoulder bridge, even if sometimes he’s tempted to have his feet in the wrong position just to have Kyungsoo’s hands on him again.
Even only three weeks in—four, if you count the week he was sent home due to being “sick”—Chanyeol is beginning to see improvements to his posture and stability during football practices. The material improvement has him feeling better about himself, and by his fourth class with Kyungsoo, he heads to SM Studios with Sehun with a pep in his step.
He’s lucky enough to catch Kyungsoo in passing each week just before and after class, and he hopes he gets a chance again today. It’s mostly small talk, but he looks forward to their conversations each week.
To Chanyeol’s dismay, Kyungsoo is nowhere in sight yet when they arrive, but they wave cheerily at Yixing at the front desk on their way to stow away their belongings. By now, Chanyeol is familiar, if not acquainted, with the rest of the regulars of their Tuesday afternoon matwork class, and he smiles at Joohyun and Seulgi when they enter the studio room. The two girls are muttering furiously among themselves, and the two football players approach them with curiosity.
“What’s up?” Sehun asks. He straightens out the mat with his foot—the same one they staked out during their first class here, at the edge of the room.
“Seulgi got here a little early and she’s just telling me about the horde of men she saw leaving the studio,” Joohyun explains.
“Men?” Sehun asks, his interest piqued. Chanyeol is sure it’s partly due to the rarity of it; in fact, they are the only two men in their class. But a bigger part is probably because, well, Sehun loves men.
Chanyeol can’t blame him. He would have the same reaction too if he wasn’t so enamoured with Do Kyungsoo.
Seulgi nods, her hair flying a little with the movement. “I think another class just ended, and it looked like the majority of the class were men. I thought it was funny since there’s so little in ours”
“Maybe it’s a different kind of pilates class? Like the one with all the equipment,” he suggests. Chanyeol remembers the bars and trapezes from Kyungsoo’s Instagram page. As a bulky football player that’s nearing 250 pounds of pure muscle, the idea of swinging his body around steel frames is a little terrifying, but he can see why some men—especially those concerned with their own hypermasculinity--would choose that class instead.
Not that he wouldn’t also take that class if he had the opportunity. The video of Kyungsoo doing the splits while hoisting himself up through the bar resurfaces in his mind, and he feels himself heat up under his collar.
“You mean like tower classes?” Joohyun asks. “Maybe. I heard it’s great for strengthening your muscles, but you probably need some understanding of matwork before you try it out.”
“I did ask one of the students and he said they were coming from the barre class,” Seulgi adds. “All they said was that it was the most popular class with Kyungsoo specifically.”
Joohyun lets out a little giggle at that, to which Sehun nods, seemingly able to understand something unspoken in Seulgi’s sentence. Chanyeol, for the most part, feels confused, still unfamiliar with the different pilates-related terminology. He’s not able to ponder on it any longer, though, when the door opens and Kyungsoo enters the room.
Despite it being a familiar sight by now, Chanyeol still finds his breath catching in his throat when he sees the smaller man smile shyly at him as he walks towards the front of the class, ducking his eyes when Chanyeol beams back at him. His heart flutters at the sight, beating against his rib cage. Just like every class so far, Kyungsoo is wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and just like every week, Chanyeol resists the urge to drool over how well they hug him.
He lets out a grunt when he feels Sehun elbow him in the gut. “God, you’re so lame,” his friend hisses. The words barely register in his mind, riding on the high of Kyungsoo noticing him.
“Hi everyone,” Kyungsoo calls out. Unlike the first class, he sounds more confident when addressing the entire group now. “We’re about halfway through the class! Congratulations. We’ll start moving into the more intermediate exercises now, but please remember to listen to your body. Don’t push yourself beyond your limits.” He glances at Chanyeol as he says this, not unkindly, but the taller man flushes in embarrassment at the reminder nonetheless.
Like always, Chanyeol finds himself mesmerized with the seemingly easy way Kyungsoo is able to maneuver his body. He eases into the exercises smoothly, his movements elegant and trained, as he rolls up until his forehead touches his knees. Both Sehun and Chanyeol can only cross the distance halfway, nowhere near as flexible, but the apparent show of skill from the smaller man amazes him as much as it incites a low-thrum of heat dark in his belly.
When Kyungsoo demonstrates the single straight leg stretch, Chanyeol swallows noisily. His heart jolts as the smaller man lies down on his back before lifting his upper body off the ground. His legs are extended on the mat, but then he grabs onto his foot and pulls his leg back until it’s nearly perpendicular to his face.
His cock stirs when he pictures Kyungsoo on his back, maybe with his legs in the air and over Chanyeol’s shoulder, or perhaps even knees practically touching his chest. How flexible could he get?
“—yeol?” he hears Kyungsoo say, his hushed voice sounding very close. His vanilla honey scent assaults his senses a second later, and Chanyeol jumps, his fantasy dissipating. He can hear Sehun laughing beside him. “Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo whispers again. At some point, the trainer had moved off his mat and is now kneeling next to the taller man. His eyebrows are adorably furrowed again.
Suddenly, he feels awkwardly aware that he had been spacing out without attempting the exercise. “Y-yeah?” Chanyeol asks, coughing, trying to cover up the awkwardness.
“Is everything okay? I didn’t want to call you out in front of everyone, but I noticed you haven’t tried the exercise,” Kyungsoo says. His heart leaps in his chest at his explanation, feeling horribly touched that the other man didn’t want to embarrass him publicly—not that it changed much. Chanyeol was doing a good enough job of that already.
And that’s perhaps the worst part—the most unfair part of all of this. It’s not enough that Chanyeol is hopelessly physically attracted to him. No, he had to go ahead and get an actual crush on the smaller man. It’s hard not to—what with beautiful Do Kyungsoo being as gentle and calm as he is sweet and pretty.
Ever since the first class, he’s been so careful with Chanyeol, always checking in on him, making sure he feels comfortable and safe in the space of their little studio room. He even gets along well with Sehun, letting the younger man hang around him after class even as he prattles on and on about Junmyeon. And as much as Chanyeol and Sehun like to poke fun of each other, there’s something heartwarming seeing Kyungsoo getting along with his best friend.
“Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo asks again, resting a hand on his arm. He feels his heartbeat quicken at the touch.
Mustering up a smile at the smaller man, Chanyeol hopes it comes across as smooth instead of manic. “Sorry, was just lost in my thoughts for awhile.”
Kyungsoo’s eyes linger on his smile, and then his dimples, for a moment. A tinge of red blossoms across the bridge of his nose before he smiles sweetly. “Okay. I’ll continue the lesson then.”
When they move into the next exercise, Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath before willing himself to focus. If he wants to impress Kyungsoo, he needs to try harder in the class.
The sweet smile is still on his mind even after class ends, and Chanyeol nervously approaches the small pilates instructor as the rest of the class begins to filter out of the room. He had told Sehun to wait for him at the locker room, not bothering to explain himself. From the knowing look the younger man shot him, he probably didn’t need to.
He wants to get to know Kyungsoo better.
Steeling his nerves and sucking in a deep breath, he steps into stride next to Kyungsoo, who’s cleaning the mats off the ground. “Do you need any help with that?” he asks.
The smaller man startles slightly, looking up at Chanyeol with wide eyes, before breaking out into a smile. “You don’t have to, but sure.” A pleased look settles on his face, somehow softening it more than his already round cheeks do. Chanyeol has to distract himself with picking up some of the mats in an attempt to shield away the blush he knows he’s sporting.
The two of them work together in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable one, but Chanyeol, always feeling too small for his skin, itches to break it. Still, he tamps down on his urge to speak until they’re done rearranging all the mats so they’re stacked in one corner of the room.
The pilates instructor turns to him after, dusting off his hands before propping them on his hips, accentuating the trimness of his waist. “Thank you, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually.” In that moment, he swears his heart stops for a second. “How have you been finding the classes so far?”
The quarterback rakes a hand through his hair. “Good,” he answers. He’s not lying either—he feels better, more in control of his body. “I had a bit of a rough start, huh?” He laughs a little, but it’s infused with embarrassment.
“Not at all,” Kyungsoo replies, shaking his head in a single, decisive motion that’s strangely endearing to the taller man. “You’re an athlete, you’re used to pushing yourself to the limit. Pilates is different in that it’s about maintaining stability, keeping within your boundaries.”
If he’s trying to make Chanyeol feel better about himself, he’s successful. Chanyeol relaxes a little, loosening up his posture, and when he laughs this time, it’s more sincere. “I guess you’re right. Hopefully I’m not doing too badly now?”
“You’re doing great,” Kyungsoo says, voice earnest and serious. “Really, you are. I can see why Junmyeon has sung such high praises of you.”
That’s news to him, but it fills him with warmth. “Did he really?”
“Of course,” Kyungsoo says. Then, the smaller man smirks a little, mouth just a little lopsided. “Why? Is there any reason why he shouldn’t be?” he teases Chanyeol.
It catches him off guard, not expecting the playfulness from the pilates trainer, and Chanyeol stammers in response. “No—well, I’m the quarterback so I can’t be too bad—but. But he did technically sign me up for pilates because they’ve been disappointed with how I’ve been playing.”
Kyungsoo softens in response, the playful edge disappearing. Although brief, Chanyeol finds that he misses it immediately. It makes him want to tease the smaller man back. “He said you’re in a slump. But I know you’ve been working hard, and it sounds like your hard work has been paying off.” He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking a little self-conscious. “Besides, my classes haven’t been too awful for you, have they?”
“No!” Chanyeol says, maybe a little too quickly, but it’s worth it to see Kyungsoo’s face brightening. “No, not even in the slightest. You’re...you’re a great trainer.”
“You think so?” Kyungsoo asks shyly. If possible, Kyungsoo looks even more pleased at that. His dark eyelashes flutter as his face tinges a rosy pink. His smile is wide and gummy—and Chanyeol feels his heart break into a million pieces, his breath catching in his throat.
“Yeah,” he breathes out. The room felt ten times hotter all of a sudden, stuffy and nearly oppressively warm, hot against Chanyeol’s skin. Shifting his weight, he swallows past the lump in his throat. “Hey?” he says.
Like last time, Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side like a cat, his wide eyes curious as he waits for Chanyeol to finish his sentence. The taller man swallows nervously, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest that he’s surprised Kyungsoo can’t hear it. “I just...on that topic, I was wondering—I was wondering if it’d be possible to see you more?”
“See me more?” Kyungsoo asks. The other man looks confused, the space between his brows furrowing as he slowly processes Chanyeol’s words. It must only be a few seconds long, the two of them resting in the silence between his words, but to Chanyeol, it feels like an eternity. His palms are clammy, and he feels like throwing up.
At last, a look of understanding dawns on the smaller man’s face, and a smile blooms. “Ah! Of course. Just follow me.” He beckons Chanyeol with a tilt of his chin before heading out the door. Puzzled, Chanyeol follows him out, unsure of what to make of Kyungsoo’s response. A dizzying flurry of images and speculations flit through his mind—the passing thought that Kyungsoo was leading him to the back room for more privacy, to push him down between the couch, kissing him deeply—or perhaps even better, holding his hand.
It doesn’t help that he can’t tear his eyes away from Kyungsoo’s glutes as he walks in front of him, the tight muscles of his ass bouncing with every step. He simultaneously curses and thanks the heavens for the invention of leggings.
Kyungsoo leads him down the familiar path of the hallway before coming to a stop at the receptionist desk, catching the attention of both Chanyeol and Yixing, who’s handling the front still.
“Yixing-ah, would you be able to help Chanyeol out here?” Chanyeol frowns, completely lost, but the next words throws him for a loop. “Chanyeol just told me that he wants to sign up for another one of my classes! Isn’t that great?”
Stunned, Chanyeol stares blankly at Kyungsoo. “What?” he sputters ineloquently.
“Isn’t that what you meant when you said you wanted to see me more?” Kyungsoo asks, guileless.
There’s a hapless smile on his face, like it’s the best news he’s heard all day—that a lumbering athlete like Chanyeol would want to take more of his classes. He looks excited, in the quiet way that Chanyeol is slowly learning is so Kyungsoo. Like he can’t help himself, Kyungsoo begins listing the different classes that would be available for Chanyeol—barre, tower—and the optimal days—probably Thursday, to avoid overworking Chanyeol too much.
And Chanyeol, even as the unfortunately familiar feeling of embarrassment begins to flood through him, can’t bring himself to look away, to deny. And probably for good, too, or else he would see the look in Yixing’s face adopt the pitiful expression of someone who knows all too well what’s going on here.
The quarterback swallows, mustering up a smile. Before he realized it, he had already made his decision. He made his bed, and now he’s going to lie in it. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. More classes.”
At least he’s going to be able to see Kyungsoo twice a week now.
“So explain to me how you’re enrolled in two pilates classes now,” Baekhyun asks him, whacking him with a sweaty towel. They’re fresh from their last football practice of the week and the rest of the boys are sitting around them, scattered on benches in their locker room—even Zitao, who has only just begun to forgive Chanyeol for nearly breaking his finger.
Sehun lets out an ugly cackle at Baekhyun’s question. “I swear to God, all his blood rushes down to his dick every time he’s in proximity to the pilates instructor and it leaves his brain nothing to work with.”
“Hey! No it doesn’t!” Chanyeol snaps, rolling his eyes. Yes, he’s a bit of a mess around beautiful Do Kyungsoo, but he isn’t that bad. At least not anymore, now that he’s been able to talk to him every time he has classes. Which is now twice a week.
“You have to admit it’s pretty funny, though,” Jongin chimes in. “The fact that you signed up for a second class because you told him you wanted to ‘see him more’—” He makes mocking air quotes with his fingers. “—right after you praised his teaching and classes.”
Chanyeol pouts. “Maybe I could have worded it better, but I didn’t think it would be misunderstood.”
“You should be more direct when asking him out,” Zitao adds, which Chanyeol finds rich because he’s always been hopeless when it comes to love.
Minseok, who’s sitting next to Chanyeol, pats him comfortingly on his arm. “There, there,” he coos. “You just need to try again, and you get even more chances now that you see him more often.”
His words make the quarterback smile, but Sehun’s mischievous giggles tilt his lips downwards again.”Yeah, but guess which class he’s doing now?” Sehun asks.
Chanyeol groans. His teammates look at him curiously, and he shakes his head. “I’m doing his barre classes. Like, pilates mixed with barre exercises.”
The implications fly over most of their heads, except for Jongin, who did ballet as a child. “Lots of flexibility and bending over, huh?” Chanyeol nods miserably.
According to Kyungsoo, barre-based classes combined pilates with ballet-inspired poses. The barre is used for balancing during exercises specifically targeted towards core work and increased flexibility, which in turn should lead to faster results when it came to football. Chanyeol only nodded dumbly in response.
He had his first class yesterday. To his surprise, there was an even number of men as women in the class—it must have been the group that Seulgi had mentioned. Although intimidated at first, it went pretty well, he thought. There was more of a focus on upper-body strength—something Chanyeol had in spades—and he took the opportunity to flex handsomely while showing off his push ups to Kyungsoo.
Not that he noticed. He was busy helping out another student with proper positioning.
Still, if Chanyeol thought it was bad enough seeing Kyungsoo bend and fold into a multitude of positions on the mat, he was nowhere near prepared to see the stretches that he would demonstrate using the barre. He shudders when he pictures the smaller man balancing on a wobble board with one leg, the other leg extended straight up and pointing at the ceiling.
So fucking flexible.
“I’m going to die,” Chanyeol wails to his teammates in their locker room. “He’s so gorgeous. Help me.”
Jongdae hums in thought. “Does this mean you’re having an additional 8 weeks of pilates now?”
“No,” Chanyeol replies, stuffing his dirty clothes into a laundry bag that he keeps in his bag. “He’s offering the remaining weeks free for me, like a free drop-in. Yixing, another instructor at the studio, told me that Kyungsoo has never done that before.”
“Giving you special treatment? You should hurry up and ask him out already,” Jongin suggests.
Chanyeol sighs. “I tried, remember?”
“Try again,” Baekhyun says unhelpfully.
Over the next few weeks, he considers it. Sehun is there on Tuesdays to egg him on, but each time Chanyeol approaches Kyungsoo, he loses his nerve as soon as the smaller man looks up with his wide, pretty eyes and vanilla honey scent.
But talking after class, Chanyeol helping Kyungsoo clean up—or wipe down the barre, if it’s the barre classes—becomes a routine. Their thing. Even Sehun notices and no longer waits for Chanyeol after their shared class, knowing Chanyeol is busy drinking in the moments that he gets to share with Kyungsoo.
It’s through these snapshots of moments that he learns that Kyungsoo is the youngest child, that he’s only 22—and only a couple of months younger than Chanyeol—and that he knows Junmyeon because they both were in the same high school choir club together. He discovers that Kyungsoo started doing pilates as a way to meditate his busy mind, and that he one day wants to go into the arts.
Every piece of information that slowly, steadily unravels from the smaller man is like another small piece of treasure for Chanyeol, who yearns to keep learning more.
He learns that he has a certain way of organizing the studio rooms, and that after a few weeks of cleaning up together, he no longer hesitates to smack Chanyeol on the arm if he places the mats too lopsided or if he forgets to put the alcohol wipes back on the shelf.
He learns that while seemingly quiet and shy and docile, Kyungsoo is anything but once he gets used to Chanyeol’s sense of humour. He’s striking, fiery when he wants to, and takes Chanyeol’s good-natured ribbing as well as he dishes it. He memorizes the way the corners of Kyungsoo’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his soft cheeks bunch together and how he throws his head back when Chanyeol makes a really good joke. Each time he grabs onto the quarterback’s bicep to steady himself mid-laughter feels like a victory.
Eventually, he learns, too, that Kyungsoo loves food. Loves, capital-L, food.
“I’m really good cook, you know,” Chanyeol says after the matwork class. He only has two weeks left with Kyungsoo, a fact that he’s trying hard not to think about.
“Are you?” Kyungsoo says amusedly, neatly placing the mats in the corner of the room.
“Yep,” Chanyeol says. He smirks, stretching his arms out in a show of confidence. “My parents own restaurants, you know.” He catches the other man watching the movement, seemingly distracted as his mouth falls slightly open. “Kyungsoo?” he asks, frowning.
The pilates instructor jolts, a familiar pink hue blossoming on the tip of his ears. He clears his throat. “What kind of restaurant?” Kyungsoo asks.
“Italian,” Chanyeol boasts. “Cooking runs in the family.”
He watches as Kyungsoo’s eyes light up in excitement. “Wow,” he says, looking impressed. “What’s it called?”
“Viva Polo,” he replies, and then hesitates, running a hand through his hair. A nervous tic he has never been able to shed. “I should take you there some time,” Chanyeol says in a rush.
His heart flips in his chest when Kyungsoo smiles, looking pleased again, his full lips curling up into a small smile as he ducks his head, eyelashes fluttering as he looks down to where he’s fidgeting with his hands. “I’d like that,” Kyungsoo says, quiet and soft. And then, “but you should cook for me too. I would like to try your food, Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry. “Really?”
“Really.” Kyungsoo smiles, his hands still fidgeting. Chanyeol aches to hold them, still them, and put them in his pocket or something because Kyungsoo is way too cute for his sanity.
“Maybe I’ll bring you lunch on Thursday then,” Chanyeol says. He’s proud when his voice comes out strong and unwavering.
“We’ll see if you can live up to your words. I take cooking classes, you know. I’ll know if you were lying about your skills,” Kyungsoo teases, poking a slim finger into Chanyeol’s abdomen, and then promptly does a double-take. “Wow,” the smaller boy says, eyes impossibly wide.
Chanyeol lets out a noise of surprise when Kyungsoo pokes him again. “Your abs are like...rock hard,” he says. There’s an inscrutable look on his face, one that Chanyeol can’t quite read. It’s the same look he had earlier, when Chanyeol had been stretching his arms above his head.
Still, his words leave Chanyeol feeling flushed. He breathes out slowly, trying to maintain a sense of zen. He’s got this. Cool as a cucumber. “Gotta maintain this body for football, you know,” he says smoothly, and inwardly fist pumps at how controlled his voice was.
“Mm,” Kyungsoo says, eyeing his abdomen as if he can see through Chanyeol’s shirt. “I can see that.”
The taller boy chokes on his next words, swallowing his spit. He could swear Kyungsoo is flirting with him. That’s flirting, right? It has to be flirting.
He doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it any longer, because the smaller man glances at his watch and makes a small noise of surprise. “Ah, sorry Chanyeol. I have to start prepping for my next class now.”
To Chanyeol’s amazement, Kyungsoo sounds genuinely remorseful about it. There’s a soft look in the other man’s eyes that has him feeling warm and disgustingly gooey. If Sehun was here, he would mock Chanyeol for it.
He smiles, and feels his heart leap into his throat at the way Kyungsoo looks back at him, head tilted back with his eyes wide to make up for their height difference. “See you on Thursday?”
“See you on Thursday,” Kyungsoo confirms.
As promised, Chanyeol shows up to the barre class on Thursday with two lunch boxes in tow.
He had beelined back home immediately after their early morning practice, and set to work immediately. Sehun watched on in amusement in the kitchen as Chanyeol racked up a storm in the kitchen—but he had a man to impress. And he would be damned if he didn’t cook up his best recipe.
(His best recipe after tteokbokki, that is. He didn’t think he would impress Kyungsoo much if he showed up with simple street food.)
Class, of course, is torture. Even this many weeks in, Chanyeol still isn’t as flexible as some of the other students in the class, and definitely not as flexible as Kyungsoo himself. It never gets easier trying to focus when the pilates instructor is contorting himself in all sorts of positions while in leggings.
When class finally ends, Chanyeol brandishes two neatly packaged lunch boxes in one hand. “Look what I made!” he says proudly.
His chest feels tight when Kyungsoo smiles brightly in response, looking up from where he’s throwing away antiseptic wipes into the bin. “You remembered.”
“I promised, didn’t I?” Chanyeol asks. “It’s for us both.” He hopes he isn’t blushing.
Which is how Chanyeol ends up sitting next to Kyungsoo on the waxed hardwood floor of the barre studio on Thursday, packed lunches laid out neatly on the ground in front of them.
“What did you make?” Kyungsoo says, curiosity laced through his tone as he watches Chanyeol take off the lids.
“Tonkatsu,” Chanyeol explains, handing over one of the boxes to the smaller man, who accepts it easily. “And lots and lots of side dishes.”
The rich aroma of breaded pork cutlet wafts through the room. “Wow,” Kyungsoo says, his eyes round and wide as he takes a hesitant sniff of the food. “It smells really, really good, Chanyeol.”
A dizzying warmth rushes through him at the amazed look in the other man’s face. “Come on, try some!”
He watches intently as Kyungsoo turns his attention to the food. The smaller man picks up his chopsticks, slicing through the already cut portions of the pork before picking it up. He purses his lips and blows on the already cooling piece of meat, thankfully kept mostly warm with the insulated lunch box, before gingerly taking a bite. Chanyeol’s heartbeat quickens as he keeps his eyes glued to Kyungsoo’s face, anxiously awaiting his verdict as the flavour washes over his tongue.
His heart skips a beat when finally, Kyungsoo sets his chopsticks down and turns his wide eyes back to Chanyeol. “Chanyeol-ah,” he starts off, voice serious. “This is...this is amazing!”
As soon as his words register in his mind, the taller man lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, his body untensing. “You really think so? You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m serious. This is really, really good,” Kyungsoo says. He picks up his chopsticks again, taking another bite. “You did really well.”
And then he smiles at him, his cheeks puffed and round with food, mouth all heart-shaped. Chanyeol finds himself mesmerized in that smile, heart stopping at how breathtakingly gorgeous Kyungsoo is. More than anything, he wishes that he could capture that smile with his own mouth, that he could press his lips to Kyungsoo’s and show him just how good he could make him feel.
In that moment, Chanyeol wishes he could have a million more opportunities to cook for Kyungsoo. If he could keep that smile, that look of sheer happiness from eating delicious food Chanyeol made specifically with the smaller man in mind—he would.
“You should eat too,” Kyungsoo continues, pointing his chopsticks at the lunch box laying untouched in front of Chanyeol still. “Don’t let your hard work go to waste.”
Oh, right. He forgot about his lunch.
Chanyeol hurriedly picks up his own box, spearing his chopsticks through the meat. A sense of determination is left in him now; he will ask Kyungsoo out. He wants this: eating together, talking together, joking together. He wants to make Kyungsoo smile. He wants to make him laugh.
He’s going to do it.
“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol begins. His mouth is still full, so he quickly swallows down his food without chewing properly. The other man looks up from his own food when he hears his name, cocking his head quizzically in a way that’s just so endearingly Kyungsoo. His heart feels too big for his chest. “Kyungsoo, I really li—”
A chunk of meat lodges in his airway mid-sentence, and Chanyeol promptly chokes, coughing aggressively as his lungs burn to dislodge the blockage. He hears Kyungsoo frantically call his name as he bends over, clutching at his throat. He tries to talk, to say something, but no sound comes out. Panicking, he wheezes, unable to breathe.
Suddenly, he feels Kyungsoo’s arms wrap around him and heaves, hauling him to his feet from behind in a surprising show of strength. It happens quickly—Kyungsoo’s arms wrapped tightly around him with his fist placed just below his ribcage, and then he makes a quick, hard movement, his hands shoving inward and then upward. With a gasp, Chanyeol feels the pork cutlet expel from his trachea, flying out and landing on the ground.
Still coughing, Chanyeol slumps as he wheezes, trying to regain his breath. Unable to support his weight, both him and Kyungsoo fall in a tangle on the ground. He’s even sweatier now, and his heart beats erratically. When he finally regains his senses enough to look back at Kyungsoo, he finds the smaller man looking panicked and worried.
“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo asks, hands flitting nervously in a mimicry of their first meeting together, when Chanyeol wiped himself out on the ground.
“Y-Yes,” Chanyeol gasps out. But he’s not okay. How in the world is Kyungsoo ever going to want to date him now?
They both turn to look at the incriminating piece of meat on the ground, lying mere inches away from them.
Jongin must be right, Chanyeol thinks, utterly miserable. He must be cursed.
Surprisingly, when Chanyeol returns again next week with Sehun in tow for their matwork class, nothing seems to have changed with Kyungsoo. He had been fully expecting the pilates instructor to avoid him in disgust or revulsion, but the smaller man had approached him first before class and asked him if he had recovered okay from the incident on Thursday.
At the end of class, as Chanyeol is taking a noisy sip from his water bottle while indulging in his favourite post-class activity of staring hopelessly after Kyungsoo while he tidies up the room, he hears Sehun sigh exasperatedly from behind him.
“Chanyeol,” Sehun says. “I’m sick of seeing that disgustingly sappy look on your face.”
The taller man flinches, putting down the water bottle. He wipes at the back of his mouth like he can wipe off said look, but it must not be very successful from the impatience he spots on his friend’s face.
“I can’t,” he whines, drawing out the last word. “What am I supposed to do when he’s—he’s that perfect?”
Sehun shakes his head, looking the perfect picture of disappointment. “Just talk to him. Properly. Ask him out or something.”
His words falter when Sehun shoots him a steely glare. But in the end, Chanyeol chickens out—still smarting from the failed attempt last week. He leaves with Sehun this time, waving sheepishly at Kyungsoo before herding his friend out of the room with him.
If he were to look back, he would have seen Kyungsoo’s look of disappointment on his face.
The next time he sees Kyungsoo is his last class with the other man. Their first football game is next week, and Chanyeol had a meeting with the coaching team the day before where they confirmed that he has improved enough to be in the starting lineup.
Despite feeling relieved that he’s going to get to play, he can’t help the sinking feeling as he enters SM Studios for the last time.
But minutes before class begins, Kyungsoo catches up with Chanyeol just outside the room. Helplessly, Chanyeol can’t help the giddy warmth that rises in his chest at the sight of the smaller man.
“Can you stay after class today?” Kyungsoo asks, averting eye contact with the quarterback. He seems shy, hesitant.
“Sure,” Chanyeol replies, curious, but the other man reveals nothing more.
He struggles to focus throughout the other class, though most of the exercises come a little more naturally to him now. Even the sight of Kyungsoo in his usual tight leggings isn’t enough to snap him out of the funk he feels.
This could be the last time he’ll ever see Kyungsoo.
It’s with trepidation when he dawdles in the room once the hour is up. He fiddles with the towel he brought with him, pulling a long sip from his water bottle as he waits for the rest of the students to file out.
One of the many male students pause to talk to Kyungsoo on his way out, slinging a familiar arm over the instructor’s shoulder as he chats with the smaller man. Chanyeol can’t help the jealousy snaking through him, burning dark and ugly when he sees the instructor smiling back.
He knows he doesn’t have any claim on Kyungsoo, not when he’s failed so hopelessly at asking the other man out the past two months. But he can’t help the lingering hope that dwells in him, that all their time spent together—despite being in snatches of moments—meant something to the other man as well.
Chanyeol waits for the last student to leave before he approaches Kyungsoo. He exhales noisily, managing an unsteady smile as he pulls up short next to the smaller man. “Hey,” he says, voice quiet and uncharacteristically somber.
“Hey,” Kyungsoo echoes. He sounds...sad, maybe. Melancholic. But he smiles anyway, his brown eyes glimmering with something warm and tender, and Chanyeol can’t help but smile reflexively back as he looks back at this beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous man.
Fresh from their workout, Kyungsoo is flushed pink. His loose, damp t-shirt clings just slightly to his dewy skin. Chanyeol is standing close enough that he can just make out the faint, familiar vanilla honey scent.
It makes him want to do something dumb, like bury his nose in Kyungsoo’s hair and hold him close and never let go.
“It’s your last class,” Kyungsoo remarks, and then fidgets a little, like there was more that he wanted to say but isn’t quite sure if he should.
Chanyeol opens his mouth, but then closes it. It feels like he’s on the precipice, like all his words of adoration and fondness for the other man is going to come spilling out unbidden, perhaps even unwanted. He feels hesitant, jumpy.
There’s an awkward pause between them, before Chanyeol clears his throat. “It is,” he says quietly. “Time’s gone by, huh? Bet you’re excited to get me out of your hair.”
Kyungsoo shakes his head, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He wonders how soft his red lips would feel against his. “Not at all, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo’s voice sounds honest, almost painfully so.
Chanyeol’s heart twinges, and he chuckles, a little ruefully. “Come on, now you won’t have to deal with a clumsy oaf who nearly chokes to death in your studio.”
The smaller man lets out a little laugh at that too, his round face lighting up with a smile that makes Chanyeol’s chest feels like it’s expanding like a balloon, and like his heart has climbed up into his throat. “Stop,” he says, giggling a little with his pretty eyes curved into sweet crescents as he smacks Chanyeol’s chest. “You weren’t that bad. I had fun being your teacher.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol says. He feels his face growing warm at the praise, but Kyungsoo’s face is flushed a rosy pink too. He wonders if his skin would be hot to the touch, if it feels as soft as it looks.
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo whispers. “Is this going to be the last time I see you?”
Without realizing it, Chanyeol must have taken a step closer to Kyungsoo. He doesn’t notice until he feels a small hand resting on his arm, just below the elbow. He looks down; Kyungsoo looks up. The smaller man’s wide brown eyes are searching for his, and Chanyeol—Chanyeol can’t tear his gaze away.
He feels like a teenager again, limbs too long for his body. Heart beating too strong to be contained.
This is it. He’s going to say it. He’s going to tell Kyungsoo that he likes him, that he wants to hold his hand, that he wants to feed him all the food in the world, that he wants to make him smile, and then kiss him until he’s gasping against his lips.
His heart beat triples in speed, his palms clammy as he tries to steady himself. “Kyungsoo,” he begins. He licks his lips, wetting them. “Do you want to g—”
The door slams open, startling them both. Chanyeol jumps back, and Kyungsoo lets out a sharp gasp. They turn to look at the intruder. It’s Yixing.
“Ah...Kyungsoo, Solji needs to use this room next.” The older man looks contrite, like he knows he interrupted something. “Sorry,” he says, nodding sheepishly before leaving the room as suddenly as he had entered.
“W-What were you saying?” Kyungsoo asks, turning back to look at Chanyeol.
But the moment is ruined. The courage he felt just a minute ago has been dispelled. It feels like another signal of his cursed fate—that somehow he is doomed to never ask beautiful Do Kyungsoo out.
Instead of answering, Chanyeol takes another step back. Out of Kyungsoo’s space. “I—” he says, before trailing off, hesitating. Kyungsoo’s eyes are expectant, something akin to hope swimming in his gaze. “I—I said. Um. Do you want me to get more wipes.”
“More wipes,” Kyungsoo echoes, voice devoid of emotion.
Chanyeol nods jerkily, taking another step back. “I...I gotta go,” he says abruptly. He feels like a coward. He is a coward.
Still standing in place, Kyungsoo only nods, his lips pursed. There’s an air of disappointment, heavy and thick in the air.
Their first game of the season is at home. One of the more popular sports at their campus, the stadium fills up easily. The crowd was once daunting to Chanyeol, but after years of playing the sport, he finds it comforting. A visceral sign of support.
He breathes in, and then out. His heart is steady. Beside him is Sehun, always by his side.
The stadium hollers and chants as both teams march onto the field. Out of the periphery of his eye, he sees the cheerleading team panting, pom-poms waving in the air. They line up to play, the offensive line crouching directly in front of Chanyeol as the referee places the ball between the two teams.
A sharp whistle. The game begins.
In front of him, Minseok hikes the ball, snapping it to Chanyeol, who grabs it. He takes barely half a second to scan the field, taking in the other team, before making the quick decision to pass it to Baekhyun, who moves them fifteen yards down the field before they’re stopped.
Chanyeol grits his teeth, drowning out the noise of the stadium as he focuses on the field.
On their third play, Chanyeol catches the ball easily from Minseok before tossing it to Wonho, their wide receiver. Wonho, one of their biggest men on the team, plows past a few of the guys on the other team. He’s stopped, once again, by their linebacker.
They line up again for another passing play, Chanyeol makes a series of hand gestures to his team, audibilizing and calling for a different strategy. Quarterback sneak. They have less than a yard to go.
The boys nod before getting back into position. He takes a deep breath as Minseok snaps the ball once more, his hands catching it before his brain has time to think. This time, he dives between Minseok and Yifan, spots a gap in the field and makes a run for it himself, blowing past the opposite team.
It works, and to the roaring cheers of the ground, they get their first down to Chanyeol’s immense release. The first down is always the hardest for their team, the most mentally taxing, and the longer they go without getting touchdowns, the weaker their mentality gets. And within seconds, Chanyeol is swarmed by his teammates as they briefly celebrate, patting him affectionately on the butt, before the referee blows the whistle again for the game to resume.
They play to the best of their abilities, not wanting to lose out on the first game of their season, and a home game at that. More than anything, Chanyeol can’t squash the feeling that he needs to prove that he is a player worthy of being called the star quarterback—whether to himself, the fans, his team, or to Kyungsoo, somehow, he doesn’t know.
But by the last dredges of the game, they’re down by two points with less than fifteen seconds left on the clock. Huddled around their coaching team, Chanyeol listens seriously as they lay out their plan.
“We’re grinding down to the bone now,” Yongmin says. “Our team has been getting shut down most of this game. We need to do better.” He then makes eye contact with Chanyeol through his helmet. “Chanyeol.”
“Sir?” He snaps to attention, back straightening.
“We need you as an eligible receiver.” His words have Chanyeol sucking in a sudden breath, a hiss through his clenched teeth. As a quarterback, Chanyeol is not an eligible receiver unless he moves outside of the standard T-position that typically allows him to catch the ball snapped by the center. He can change that, of course, but...
It’s risky, and more than just tricky.
“We need you to pull through for us,” Yongmin says, smacking one hand into Chanyeol’s chest. Chanyeol knows. “Can you do it?”
A nervous flutter erupts in his belly, but he straightens and pushes his shoulders back. He holds his head high. They’re depending on him to pull this off, to make the right play and the right calls.
The whistle blows. They get into position, Chanyeol lines up, as usual, behind Minseok. His heart is pounding now, and he sucks in another deep breath to try and steady it. In. Out. In. Out. He glances to his left, and then right, taking in his team. They’re all focused, looking forward.
He can do it. He’s their quarterback. Their strategist, their shot-caller. Their star player.
A split second before the center throws back again, Chanyeol tears into proper position at least a yard behind the line of scrimmage. He pounds down the grass, his heart pounding in his ears. He hears a shout behind him, he sees Hyunwoo and Jinseok, their receivers. Somewhere on the field are his friends, waiting for him, placing their hopes on him to make this play.
And then he sees the ball, sailing through the glare of the stadium lights in a gentle spiral. Time slows down. He reaches out his arms, almost as if in slow motion, and catches it as easily as he had been catching Minseok’s snaps all night.
Time speeds up again.
Chanyeol books it, hauling the ball close to his chest, plowing past the lineman, past the safeties with unyielding strength and a grace and speed he had never possessed before. In the distance, he can hear the hoot and hollers from the stadium around them and the cheers from the cheerleaders. His own ragged breath resounds in his ears, his heart pounding in his lungs. He runs, runs, and runs.
And then the next thing he knows, Chanyeol is in the end zone. The screams of the crowd are deafening in his ears, but even louder yet is the jubilant hollering from his teammates as they flood into the end zone with him. Someone—Sehun, he realizes later—tackles him to the ground, kissing him affectionately over his helmet.
The timer runs out. When Chanyeol looks up, he sees the numbers “00:00:00” in a neon red on the scoreboard. And right next to it, are the scores: 28 to 26, in their favour.
They did it. He did it. They won.
The locker room is, as expected, rowdy that afternoon. Chanyeol suffers through more congratulatory ass slaps in the thirty minutes they spend unwinding and debriefing than in the past few months combined.
It’s a great feeling, knowing he played hard and well out there, and that his team and his coaches are all proud of him. More than anything, he feels giddy at the realization that no, he hasn’t lost his touch after all. That he’s Park fucking Chanyeol, star quarterback.
A deeper part of him wishes that he could share this happiness with someone too; someone smaller, with round eyes and a soft smile and steady hands. But apparently he’s foolish enough to burn that bridge before he even crosses it.
He shakes off the remorse that sets in, fixing a smile on his face when Jongin claps a friendly hand over his shoulder, shaking his head fondly when Jongdae and Baekhyun scream at the top of their lungs. By the time the crowded locker room begins to disperse as players begin packing to head out for a post-game dinner, Chanyeol’s cheeks feel numb from smiling too hard.
“Hey,” he hears the familiar voice of his best friend call from behind him just as he’s ready to leave with the rest of the boys. Startling, he turns around. Sehun is standing with his bag in one hand, hair still wet from his shower.
“Hey,” Chanyeol says. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Sehun says, shrugging. “Do you got a second first?”
Curious, Chanyeol sets his bag back down on the bench. His best friend seems uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, ‘course. What’s up, Sehunnie?”
“You did well out there,” Sehun says. “I know it’s been kinda tough on you to not perform to your full capacity, but you’ve been working hard over the past couple of months, and it really shows. You did great.”
Chanyeol softens at Sehun’s words. Despite the constant bickering between the two of them, Sehun has always shown up as a great friend. He smiles, small and tender, as his heart grows warm. “Thanks, Sehunnie,” he says. “Couldn’t have done it without you by my side during those pilates classes. Really.” There’s a slight twinge in his heart when he mentions them, Kyungsoo’s sweet, round facing flashing in his mind. But he tamps it down.
The tip of Sehun’s ears are red, and he shuffles awkwardly in place. “Shut up, I told you that was just to impress Junmyeon, didn’t I?” But they both know he’s mostly lying. Sehun is as loyal as they come, and always has been.
Chuckling, Chanyeol pulls Sehun into a hug. “Seriously, thank you.”
When they pull away, Sehun scratches at his chin. There’s a hesitant look in his face, like he wants to say something but is trying to find the right words. “Speaking of which,” he begins haltingly. “Have you talked to Kyungsoo since...?”
The ache in his chest returns. “No,” he replies.
Because he’s an idiot. Because he’s embarrassed by how astoundingly he failed each time. Because he’s afraid that Kyungsoo only put up with him because Chanyeol is Junmyeon’s quarterback and a student of his class. That Chanyeol is the only one who enjoyed every conversation they had, every moment they shared whether during class or beyond.
In the end, he settles for a shrug, the words to explain his cowardice escaping him. His best friend looks disappointed, but he nods anyway, accepting his answer—or lack thereof.
There’s a brief moment where Chanyeol wallows in his own misery before he gathers himself. “Well!” he says as brightly as he can. “Should we get going then?”
For a second, Sehun hesitates again. “Actually, there’s someone here to see you.”
Chanyeol pauses, looking at Sehun in surprise. “Who?”
“Just,” Sehun says, eyes darting around as he inches towards the door. “Just stay there, alright?”
Confused, but also not given much choice, Chanyeol obliges. He waits by the bench impatiently. It feels like the old clock hanging on the wall by the showers ticks louder with each second that passes, the smell of stale sweat becoming more and more unbearable the longer he waits.
It can’t have been more than a minute at most, but it feels like an entire eternity before the door reopens. He perks up.
And then someone steps in. It only takes half a second before Chanyeol recognizes the small figure. With small, hesitant steps with an elegant grace that Chanyeol has long become accustomed to seeing, Kyungsoo walks into the locker room with Sehun nowhere in view. His heart starts beating furiously against his rib cage as Kyungsoo gets closer to him, too shocked to react still.
The smaller boy is wearing a pair of black jeans that are neatly cuffed around his ankles and hug the curves of his hips and thighs well, and an oversized, warm sweater that dwarves his hands until only the tips of his fingers are visible. Despite it not being too cold out yet with fall only soon to be settling in, Kyungsoo has a dark grey beanie tugged onto his head. It’s the first time Chanyeol has seen the pilates trainer in anything but his customary workout gear, and he looks so cozy and soft and small that it feels like someone has inflated a balloon in Chanyeol’s chest and it’s pressing up tight against all his internal organs like it’s about to pop.
“Hi,” Kyungsoo says, stopping just short of Chanyeol. There’s an uncertain quality to his voice, like he’s unsure whether he’s welcome or not, and Chanyeol’s heart hurts to know that he put it there.
A swell of emotions crest inside of him, crashing over him as he fights the shock of seeing Kyungsoo in his team’s locker room of all places. “Hi,” he croaks, barely summoning a smile.
The other boy hesitates, fidgeting with his hands. “I watched the game,” he says, sounding unsure of himself. “You were...you were amazing, Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol breathes in, feeling himself flush at the revelation that Kyungsoo was there, Kyungsoo saw him. “You came?”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says, tugging at the ends of too-long sweater sleeves. “Um. I asked Sehun when your next game was and if I could come. He got me tickets.”
“Sehun did?” Chanyeol asks, shocked. He sounds like a broken record or a parrot, but he jolts at the news, his mind struggling to grasp the fact that Kyungsoo approached Sehun about this. “Why—I mean, why...why did you come?”
At his words, a look of hurt flashes on Kyungsoo’s face before a mask settles over top. “I—I wanted to see you—I mean, see you play, I—” Kyungsoo sighs, scratching at his eyebrow. “Did I do something wrong, Chanyeol?”
Chanyeol lets out another gush of air, his skin crawling with anxiety. “No, you didn’t. Of course you’re welcome—and. And it’s so good to see you, Kyungsoo. Really.” And despite of the nervous flutter in his chest, it’s true. Kyungsoo looks amazing, and God, how he wants to kiss him. How he wishes he could make everything better and just kiss him.
Longing suffuses through Chanyeol, like an ache that burns through his skin and imprints on his bones, his heart. He drinks in the sight of Kyungsoo standing before him, his eyes wide and vulnerable and his plush bottom lip bitten red. He wants so, so badly.
The locker room is completely empty now besides the two of them, and the step Kyungsoo takes forward echoes loudly against the tiled floor. His heart races a little harder as Kyungsoo draws near, close enough that he can nearly feel the warmth emanating from his skin and the smaller man has to crane his neck up to get a proper look at the quarterback.
“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says. His voice is quiet, a mere whisper, but it sounds almost explosive against the solitude of the room. “I like you.”
Chanyeol’s jaw falls. Eyes open wide, sure that he heard wrong, he sputters. “W-What?”
The smaller boy’s jaw tightens, even as several emotions seem to flash through his expressive eyes. “I like you.”
Stunned, Chanyeol sucks in a sharp breath. Questions fill his mind in a flurry, mostly ranging from what and why and how. He swallows hard. “You like me?” he asks, incredulous.
Kyungsoo’s eyes fall onto the scuffed tip of his Vans, fidgeting for a moment before he exhales deeply, his eyes flitting back up to meet Chanyeol’s squarely. The beautiful, honey brown of his irises are striking to Chanyeol, and especially now with a hint of fire behind them. “Yes,” he says firmly. “You...you always tried so hard in my class, and you were always so respectful and nice to me. You cooked for me. And—And you make me laugh. I just,” and then he rubs at the tip of his nose, a nervous gesture. “I just really liked spending time with you.”
“But I kept embarrassing myself!” Chanyeol protests.
“I thought it was cute,” Kyungsoo mumbles, his face suddenly scarlet. “I thought you were really cute. And maybe I thought you liked me too, because you kept trying so hard to impress me.”
All of a sudden, Chanyeol feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. His lungs feel tight, like they can’t take in enough air.
“I thought you liked me too, and it...it made me really happy that you tried to spend time with me,” Kyungsoo spills on. “But then on the last day, you just—you left. And then you didn’t try to find me, so I came to find you.” He finishes the last half of his sentence in a whisper, the uncertainty returning to his voice. “But...but maybe I was wrong?”
There’s another pause. Chanyeol feels like a whirlwind of mixed emotion has smacked him right in the chest—elation, confusion, hesitance. Behind him, the clock continues ticking on.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Kyungsoo rubs at his eyes, the edges looking reddened. He curls into himself, swallowed up in his sweater and cute little beanie. The other boy looks even smaller, lost and confused, like he wrenched his chest open and presented his heart out to Chanyeol to take. There’s something vulnerable on his face, something that makes Chanyeol feel bruised and tensed.
“I’m—I’m just gonna g—”
“No!” Chanyeol shouts, startling the smaller boy enough that he visibly jolts, freezing on the spot. “No, don’t go, don’t—”
He rushes towards Kyungsoo, wrapping a hand around his wrist. The bones feels tiny in his grasp—fragile, breakable—and he gentles his grip until he’s only loosely clasping the other boy.
“Don’t go. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Kyungsoo. I’m an idiot. You’re right, I’ve been pining after you this whole time,” he says in one breath. “Fuck, even the first time I saw you—I was head over heels. I was—am—hopelessly in love with you, Kyungsoo. Like, can’t stop thinking about you—that kind of head over heels.” His heart thunders in overdrive.
For a moment, Kyungsoo doesn’t respond, his body still half-turned towards the door. Then, he shifts again until he’s facing Chanyeol properly. “Then why did you run away?”
“I was being an idiot,” Chanyeol says miserably. “I just, I don’t know. I thought you wouldn’t want me because I was so fucking lame around you and constantly making a mess of everything and I just...I guess I was scared of confessing to you and hearing you reject me. But I swear, I swear I like you. So much.”
“You...do you mean that?” Kyungsoo asks, voice sounding achingly vulnerable.
Chanyeol nods resolutely. “Yes, God, yes. You’re—you’re Do Kyungsoo. Devastatingly beautiful, and so, so sweet. I—you—” he takes in a deep breath, sucking air into his lungs, before trying again. “You have the kind of smile I want to be responsible for,” he finishes lamely. He feels breathless when he’s done.
His heart pounds against his ribcage when Kyungsoo shifts a little closer, close enough now that he can smell his vanilla honey scent. Kyungsoo tilts his head to look up at him, his face unreadable for a moment. For a few seconds, Chanyeol holds his breath—until warmth floods on Kyungsoo’s face, and he smiles. It’s not one of his big ones where his gums are peeking out and his eyes are scrunched together. It’s tiny, but perfect, the smile that had Chanyeol’s heart tripping on itself the first time he saw it.
And it’s no different now. He feels his heart flutter, leaping in his throat, at how ethereal, how gorgeous Kyungsoo is. Warmth dances in his pretty brown eyes, and it’s like Chanyeol can’t breathe again—but for an entirely different reason this time.
“I was so mad at you, you know,” Kyungsoo says, even as he presses in closer to Chanyeol. The taller boy’s breath hitches when he feels Kyungsoo’s body pressing lightly into his. He slots perfectly against him, like they were made to fit together. “I still kinda am.”
“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says breathlessly. He looks down at Kyungsoo, his arm coming up to wrap around the trim waist of the other boy. “I’ll make it up to you.”
There’s something shy on Kyungsoo’s face that betrays how boldly he presses closer, tilting his head up for Chanyeol. “Yeah? You can start by kissing me,” Kyungsoo whispers.
Chanyeol’s heart pounds against his chest, hard enough that it feels like he’s been tackled by an enemy safety, like his feet has gone over his head and he’s fallen on the ground head first. Kyungsoo is warm underneath his hands. Although trained and toned from years of pilates with a kind of core strength that Chanyeol can’t even hope to achieve, there’s still something delicate and tiny about Kyungsoo, in his small shoulders and slender wrists.
He’s already leaning down before realizing it, eyes drawn on the rosiness of Kyungsoo’s heart-shaped lips. The desire to kiss him, to hold him, is maddening.
And then Kyungsoo reaches up, wrapping one arm around Chanyeol’s bicep to tug him down further, before stepping onto the tip of his toes and closing the last of their distance. Their lips meet, slotting against each other like lock and key. Automatically, his eyes fall close to pull Kyungsoo closer. Chanyeol tilts his head, kissing back desperately as he deepens it. Kyungsoo’s lips are firm, soft, his kisses tender—
And oh. So perfect.
The first time they ever have sex, there’s a voice in Chanyeol’s mind that sounds suspiciously like Jongin which whispers, “dude, I guess you’re not cursed after all.” And then Chanyeol promptly shakes the thought away, because he’s not about to spend any time thinking about his teammate when he has Kyungsoo spread out on his bed right in front of him.
Not cursed, indeed. Chanyeol sends a mental prayer up to whatever deities preside over their land for allowing him to even look at such a blessed, precious sight.
His boyfriend--and God, if that title doesn’t send a little ribbon of giddiness through his heart--is leaning back on the bed, resting on his elbows. His clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor next to them. Chanyeol had thought he had ascended to heaven when he peeled those leggings off Kyungsoo’s shapely thighs and glorious ass for the first time.
Kyungsoo looks up at him from under his lashes, biting down on his swollen, red lips. He makes a needy noise under his breath, a non-subtle hint for Chanyeol to move or to touch him or something. The taller man ignores it for a second, intent on memorizing the sight of his boyfriend.
He trains his eyes on the miles and miles of delectable, creamy skin all laid out for him. Kyungsoo’s nipples are rosy and stiff from the cold room air, and Chanyeol longs to get his mouth on them. Years of pilates have granted Kyungsoo with a lithe, nimble body, his waist trim and arms toned. His thighs are thick, and even though Chanyeol can’t see it from this angle, he knows just how round and fat Kyungsoo’s ass is.
Compared to Chanyeol, he's tiny, albeit with strength and flexibility built into his compact body. In contrast, years of rigorous training and weightlifting has granted Chanyeol with hard, well-defined muscles and bulk, ready to tackle or be bodied on the field.
His eyes fall on Kyungsoo’s belly, a little bit soft with just the slightest hint of pudge. And then below it--his cock, pink and pretty, and already hard and leaking from Chanyeol’s gaze.
Catching onto his line of view, the already blossoming blush reddens even further on Kyungsoo’s face, and he shifts awkwardly until he has one hand covering his tummy. “No matter how much I train, it doesn’t go away,” he explains, sounding a little embarrassed as he massages his soft tummy a little. There’s a shy look on his face.
It drives Chanyeol wild, and he surges forward, kissing the look off Kyungsoo’s face. The smaller boy gasps underneath him, but then he kisses back just as desperate and needy. His hand comes up to cup the side of Kyungsoo’s face, rubbing slow circles on his round cheeks. Kyungsoo easily lets him cant his head to the side for better access as Chanyeol deepens the kiss, sucking his tongue in.
A burning heat sears his belly, hot and heavy. Already, the room feels like it has gone up by several degrees, and when they pull apart, Kyungsoo is panting. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed, and his lips are even more swollen and kiss-bitten.
“I like it,” Chanyeol says. In one smooth motion, he slides his hand down until he’s cupping Kyungsoo’s tummy just over the smaller boy’s own hand. “It’s cute. You’re perfect.” He delights in the way Kyungsoo lights up, glowing red but pleased.
And then he crowds closer to Kyungsoo once more, shifting his hands so that they’re cupping Kyungsoo’s jaw, before pulling him into another heated kiss. Chanyeol licks at the seam of his swollen lips before swiping his tongue into his mouth. Pushing into the kiss, Kyungsoo lets out a moan. This time, it’s wet and dirty, obscene slick noises echoing in the room as he draws small whimpers from the other boy.
He feels Kyungsoo’s hands slide into his hair, tugging just on the verge of painful—but a good kind, the kind that makes the fire under his skin just burn that much brighter. They keep kissing and kissing, until it turns into a feverish, desperate kiss. Something inside Chanyeol feels coiled tight, and he groans into the kiss.
As if in response, Kyungsoo presses tighter, closer, mewling desperately as he wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s broad shoulders. Chanyeol responds in just, his own hand trailing down past the slim slopes of his pale shoulders and to his chest. Experimentally, he circles his thumbs around the two rosy buds.
He feels Kyungsoo shudder, and then let out a loud moan. “Chanyeol,” his boyfriend moans into his mouth, and then Kyungsoo swings his legs over Chanyeol’s so that he’s straddling him. Pressed up together like this, Chanyeol only feels more aware of how much bigger he is than Kyungsoo, who feels so small, so pliable in his lap.
The taller man lets out a whine when he feels Kyungsoo’s thick, toned thighs wrap around his hips, his pretty cock rubbing against his own growing hardness between his legs.
“Kyungsoo,” he gasps, before diving to kiss his moans off his mouth. They’ve barely touched each other, and Chanyeol already feels desperate, almost feral. He needs it. He wants Kyungsoo so badly, the sensation is almost overpowering.
When Kyungsoo breaks the kiss to grind down against Chanyeol’s cock, the quarterback slides his hand down the smaller boy’s sides, the movement slow and worshipful, before he wraps his hands around the other’s waist. Guiding his movements, Chanyeol then pulls him down harder. The friction feels amazing, and Chanyeol swears. They both let out a loud moan, and Chanyeol feels Kyungsoo squeezing his thighs around his waist.
His boxers are starting to feel uncomfortable now, but he ignores it to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down Kyungsoo’s jaw. He pauses at the junction where his slender neck meets his shoulder, and bites down gently. Under his ministrations, Kyungsoo shivers and lets out a gasp, his small hands kneading at Chanyeol’s shoulder.
For a moment, Chanyeol is content to keep kissing him like this, with Kyungsoo debauched and needy, his hips moving in increasingly desperate circles. But then the smaller boy grabs Chanyeol’s hands, and places it on his rear.
“Fuck,” Chanyeol curses, imprinting his moan onto Kyungsoo’s skin. He cups Kyungsoo’s ass in his palms, letting out another noise at the way his ass fills his palms. Chanyeol kneads at his cheeks, marvelling at how thick Kyungsoo’s ass is, how tight and firm. He’s almost painfully hard now, his cock tenting his boxers.
“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo whimpers, arching his back into Chanyeol’s touch. His hips are still making small, grinding movements. He grabs one of Chanyeol’s hands, his slim fingers wrapping around Chanyeol’s wrist. His cock twitches when he notices that Kyungsoo’s pinkie and forefinger don’t even touch. “Chanyeol, pay attention to me,” Kyungsoo whines.
And then the smaller boy is sliding Chanyeol’s hand until its grazing the cleft of his ass, brushing teasingly against his entrance. Kyungsoo lets out his loudest moan so far, pushing back into Chanyeol’s finger.
“You want me to fuck you?” Chanyeol teases, petting at Kyungsoo’s rim with gentle strokes. His soft touch disguises the way he feels like he’s about to explode if he doesn’t get his cock out, doesn’t touch Kyungsoo properly, but it’s worth it when his boyfriend squirms on top of him.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Kyungsoo chants, his cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded. His hole flutters and clenches on nothing but air, trying to get Chanyeol inside of him. The taller man muffles a laugh at how cute Kyungsoo is being, pressing another fond kiss to the side of his chubby cheeks, before sliding the tip of his finger into his hole, just dipping past the tight ring of muscle.
“Ah!” Kyungsoo gasps, before letting out another loud moan. He tries to grind down on the finger, but Chanyeol pulls out, leaving his rim fluttering at the loss.
He feels a little bad when Kyungsoo pulls back to glare at him, his mouth set in a bratty pout. “Chanyeol,” he whines. “I want you to fuck me!”
“Sorry, babe,” Chanyeol apologizes, pulling Kyungsoo closer to him so he can peck him affectionately on the nose. The pout on the smaller man does not waver. Fondness fills Chanyeol’s heart with warmth, even as his cock twitches in his boxers. “I want to eat you out first.”
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says breathlessly. “Oh. Yes, please.”
The smaller boy immediately swings his legs back around, biting his lips. Like he can’t help but touch himself, his hand automatically goes to his cock and squeezes at the base. Chanyeol lets out another moan at the sight, before quickly leaping to his feet, his muscles flexing as he lifts himself off the bed.
“Fuck, Chanyeol, your muscles...” Kyungsoo trails off as he takes in Chanyeol’s well-defined abs, thick biceps, and broad shoulders.
Chanyeol can’t help but preen at his boyfriend’s blatant appreciation of his body. “You like it?” he asks cheekily. He watches as Kyungsoo flushes, the smaller boy stroking at his cock as he nods almost dazedly.
Seeing the desire reflected back in Kyungsoo’s eyes leaves a blazing heat in Chanyeol’s body, his own desperation to touch Kyungsoo ramping up again. Hurriedly, he strips off his boxers, leaving himself nude at last. His hard cock slaps against his belly, and strokes himself once with a sigh of relief.
When he looks back up at Kyungsoo, he freezes. The other boy’s mouth has fallen slack, the flush spreading down his neck. His breathing is heavier now, and he’s staring at Chanyeol’s cock with hungry eyes.
“You’re huge,” Kyungsoo says, awed. For a second, Chanyeol’s worried. He’s been too big for some past partners before, and many people balked when he’s gotten naked around them. But then Kyungsoo licks his lips before crawling forward on the bed until his hot breath is fanning over Chanyeol’s cock. “I want to suck you,” Kyungsoo says. “Take you into my throat until I’m gagging for you.”
The image of Kyungsoo’s thick lips wrapped around his cock, the warm, wet heat of his throat pulsing around him is almost enough for him to cum right then and there, and he has to wrap his fingers in a ring around the base as he moans. “Holy shit, Kyungsoo.”
“Can I? Please?” Kyungsoo asks, every inch of his attention focused on Chanyeol’s cock. He wraps his hand around his girth—and then lets out another moan when he realizes that he can’t even grasp it all the way around, his hands too small.
Chanyeol makes a noise that sounds barely even human, hissing at the touch. Kyungsoo’s hands feel so good on him, but that’s not what he wants right now. “Later,” he promises darkly, before pushing Kyungsoo back onto the bed. He flips him over in one smooth motion, the smaller boy pliable under his hands. Chanyeol crawls up to him on his hands and knees, and then, with his hands wrapped around his waist, Chanyeol pulls Kyungsoo’s bottom half back so that his hips and ass are raised. “But for now, I want to taste you.”
Underneath him, Kyungsoo shivers in his grasp. “You promise?” he says, even as he pushes his hips back, wiggling his ass enticingly.
“Promise,” he whispers, and then he’s grabbing two handfuls of Kyungsoo’s sculpted ass in his hands. He kneads at the flesh, marveling at how perfectly round and firm his rear is. It’s an ass worth worshipping. “Fuck, you have the most amazing ass,” he says. Lifting up one hand, he brings it down on one cheek with a loud slap, his ass jiggling from the impact.
“Hnnnng,” Kyungsoo moans, pressing his ass back for more. “Yes!”
He presses his fingers against the blooming red handprint on Kyungsoo’s ass, delighting in the hiss of pleasure his boyfriend lets out, before gently caressing the firm, round cheeks. He takes his time just kneeling there, playing with his ass, pressing and kneading. It’s not until Kyungsoo lets out another impatient whine that he finally bends down until his face is level with Kyungsoo’s glorious swells and presses a kiss to the underside of his ass.
Kyungsoo’s breath deepens at the contact. “More, c’mon,” he gasps, squirming and spreading his legs wider for Chanyeol.
Chanyeol can’t help but laugh. “You’re adorable,” he teases, pressing another kiss in the same spot, before sucking a little red mark. He pulls back and rubs his thumb over his handiwork, and is satisfied when Kyungsoo rewards him with another whine.
He decides to stop teasing his cute boyfriend. Chanyeol spreads Kyungsoo’s cheeks, exposing his tiny, pink hole to Chanyeol’s raptured gaze. The smaller boy shivers when the air hits him coolly, the back of his neck heating up as Chanyeol squeezes at the swell of his ass before slipping one hand to the middle, his thumb teasingly grazing the cleft.
Even this part of Kyungsoo is pretty, Chanyeol thinks, exhaling in pure want as Kyungsoo’s rosy rim twitches cutely at the touch.
He presses a gentle kiss on the cleft of his ass, drinking in the sweet sigh that falls from Kyungsoo’s lips. Then another, right on top of his rim. A low groan escapes from Kyungsoo’s lips, and the smaller boy presses his hips back, pushing his ass into Chanyeol’s face.
Chanyeol spreads his cheeks further, his fingers digging into the meat of Kyungsoo’s ass, before finally swirling his tongue wetly over Kyungsoo’s rim. The smaller boy jolts, before letting out a sigh of appreciation.
“Mmmm, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo moans, canting his hips back.
Biting back a smile, Chanyeol flicks his tongue at the tight hole, before pressing the flat of his tongue against Kyungsoo’s entrance. The wet-hot tip of his tongue moves in maddening swipes and circles, never dipping past the rosy rim, to Kyungsoo’s growing desperation. The smaller boy is muffling his cries now in the bedsheets, squirming as he tries to push his ass back into Chanyeol’s face.
Taking pity on Kyungsoo’s neediness, Chanyeol finally uses this thumbs to spread his hole wider, before pointing his tongue straight and licking directly into him, all wet and messy. His breath comes out hot, waves upon waves of heat raking through his body when Kyungsoo sobs in pleasure.
“A-Ah, Chanyeol! Fe—Feels so, ah, good!” Kyungsoo cries, pushing back against his face. The smaller boy is undulating his hips now, fucking himself back on Chanyeol’s tongue as he made a mess of Kyungsoo’s tight hole.
With one teasing flick of his tongue into his boyfriend’s entrance, Chanyeol hums and pulls back.
“No, ah, Chanyeol, more—” Kyungsoo babbles at the sudden loss of heat. The smaller boy’s rim is slick and messy from Chanyeol’s tongue, the skin around the entrance all nice and pink. But Chanyeol has other plans.
“Want you to sit on my face,” he murmurs, squeezing and kneading at the swell of Kyungsoo’s ass. He delights in the sudden gasp from the other boy, who quivers at his words. He reaches around, his hand bumping against Kyungsoo’s cock before he wraps a hand around the hard length. “Want to feel your thighs tremble around me as I eat you out.” His hands trail down to his boyfriend’s toned thighs as if to prove a point, kneading the plump flesh before stroking his thumbs in maddening circles along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.
“I—I...” Kyungsoo stammers. He turns so he’s facing Chanyeol, his face flushed. There’s a slight sheen of sweat beading on his forehead, and his lips are even more swollen than before.
Laying down on the bed, he smirks up at Kyungsoo. “Come here, baby.”
Kyungsoo pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling on the bed, his cock heavy against his belly. His nipples are red, and Chanyeol can’t help but reach a hand up to pinch the sensitive buds, eliciting a cry from Kyungsoo as he arches into the touch.
“Come here,” he repeats.
The smaller man hesitates. “I-It’s embarrassing, Chanyeol-ah,” he says. His face must be burning, Chanyeol thinks sympathetically, as red as it is. It’s the cutest thing and Chanyeol almost wants to burst into tears with how adorable his boyfriend is.
Fondly, and bursting with affection, Chanyeol tugs at Kyungsoo until the smaller man falls on top of him with an tiny “oof.” He wraps his arm around him, kissing him on the forehead before capturing his lips. “Sit on me,” he says. His hands wander back down, gently caressing Kyungsoo’s heated skin before landing back on Kyungsoo’s firm globes. He squeezes firmly.
“O-Okay,” Kyungsoo says, and then finally, he turns so he’s facing away from the taller boy, face burning red. He moves until his beautiful, glorious, perfect, firm and pert ass is hovering over Chanyeol’s face—and then hesitates, clearly flustered.
The taller boy decides to make things easier on Kyungsoo—and a little impatient to get his tongue back in him—and pulls him down until he’s seated directly on Chanyeol’s face.
“Oh!” Kyungsoo gasps, surprised. “Chanye—, oh!” His voice breaks off into a long moan when Chanyeol reaches up and spreads his ass open, and then wraps his lips around his entrance and sucks.
Like this, with Kyungsoo delicately balancing himself on top of Chanyeol, his thighs already trembling from wanton pleasure, the room feels even hotter. It’s tempting to reach down, relieve some of the pressure off his hard cock, but he would rather use his hands to keep Kyungsoo open and exposed to his ministrations.
“Ch-Chanyeol, ah!” Kyungsoo moans. “Chanyeol—oh, oh!” His whimpers falling like music to Chanyeol’s ears. He wonders how he ended up so lucky to have such a gorgeous and amazing boyfriend like Kyungsoo, right before he fucks his tongue into Kyungsoo, spearing him as deep as he can go. He licks into Kyungsoo with lewd, wet movements that has the smaller boy grinding his ass on Chanyeol’s face, no longer self-conscious about his weight. He’s wet and sloppy now, open enough that Chanyeol rubs a tight circle over his rim with his thumb being sinking the digit in, licking around it as he spreads Kyungsoo open.
He can feel Kyungsoo’s body shaking as the smaller boy sobs. “Oh my God, oh, Cha—Chanyeol, ah, f-fuck, ah, ah, yes, yes, please!” His words are slurred as he babbles incoherently. “Oh, oh, ah! P-Please, oh f-feels so, ah good!”
Chanyeol works his tongue deeper into Kyungsoo’s open, slick hole, encouraged by the soft, needy noises escaping from the smaller boy’s mouth. He switches out his thumb and replaces it with his finger, sinking in even deeper than his thumb. Thrusting his finger into his boyfriend, he moves his tongue is wide sweeping circles.
“Chanyeol, oh, Chanyeol, Chanyeol—” Kyungsoo cries, trembling, grinding his hips down, his hole tightening around Chanyeol. When his small boyfriend swivels his hips against him, like he’s trying to suck him in deeper, his cries getting louder, Chanyeol presses his finger deeper, thrusting faster and faster as he swirls his tongue around the digit. He pulls back a bit, lapping at the reddened hole before nibbling gently around the furled entrance. Kyungsoo’s voice hitches, his breath stuttering, when Chanyeol fucks back into him, the pitch of his cries growing higher and higher.
The sounds of his moans are heaven to Chanyeol, only spurring him on as he licks into him in messy circles, his fingers pressing up against his sweet spot.
“Oh, oh, fuck, Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo sobs, his hole slick with spit and body shaking from overstimulation and pleasure. His hole flutters, clenching down hard in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to come, as he sobs out Chanyeol’s name. He sounds needy, desperate, like the only thing he can think of is Chanyeol and how good he feels. It drives Chanyeol mad, he aches to reach down and stroke himself. Licking in deep, he drives his finger in and out in and out at a brutal pace, listening to the way Kyungsoo’s gasps and moans, his whole body trembling. He’s tightening up and grinding down on Chanyeol’s tongue like he’ll die if he doesn’t come from it. Chanyeol’s jaw aches, but he ignores it, licking Kyungsoo wide open. He sounds breathless, and so fucking hot.
“M-More, oh, ah, Chanyeol! O-Oh God, oh God, Chanyeol—”
And then Chanyeol pulls back, his finger and tongue slipping out from Kyungsoo’s messy hole. The swollen rim clenches down on empty air, and poor, poor Kyungsoo looks so desperate, so needy.
Kyungsoo, body shaking, lets out another sob. “No, no, Chanyeol, why, pl-please, I was so close—” he breaks off into a whimper, grinding down against Chanyeol shamelessly.
His voice is broken, hoarse. A pang of guilt sends a stabbing sensation through Chanyeol’s heart, and it takes him a second before he wraps his hands around Kyungsoo’s trim waist and lifts him up effortlessly like a doll, depositing him back on the bed. He eases him on his back, thumbing over those irresistible reddened buds once more. When Kyungsoo lets out another desperate cry, much more sensitive than before now that he was brought to the precipice before being taken back, Chanyeol presses an apologetic kiss to Kyungsoo’s soft tummy.
“I wanted to fuck you before you came,” he explains, sucking hickies into the soft, pale skin along his belly. The smaller boy lets out a small moan at that. Underneath him, Kyungsoo trembles, his face red and eyes wet with tears from the stimulation. “I-Is that okay? We don’t have to. I can eat you out until you come,” he offers, not wanting to push Kyungsoo too far.
“N-No, no, I—” Kyungsoo’s breath hitches. “I want that. I want you in me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me. You’re so big,” he says.
“Is that okay?” Chanyeol asks, worried. “We really don’t have to. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
Heat steadily fills Kyungsoo’s cheeks as he nods, his eyes wide and adoring as he looks at Chanyeol. “I want you to fuck me, I promise.” He hesitates for a moment, averting his eyes before meeting Chanyeol’s concentrated gaze. “I—I touch myself, fantasizing about you fucking me,” he confesses, cheeks red. “I always cum so hard to the image of you stretching me wide open with your cock.”
Chanyeol swears, the image of Kyungsoo stretching himself open to the fantasy of Chanyeol, so much bigger than him in every way, and he forms a tight ring around the base of his cock with his fingers to stave off the need to cum.
“Fuck, Kyungsoo. You’re amazing,” he says, awed and so maddeningly, deeply in love.
The embarrassed look doesn’t leave Kyungsoo’s face. “Can I,” he begins, his smaller hands finding Chanyeol’s, entwining their fingers together for comfort. Chanyeol lifts their entangled hands together, pressing a delicate kiss to each slender finger, and then the middle of his palm. “Can I r-ride you?” Kyungsoo asks.
The words leave Chanyeol frozen, lips still pressed against Kyungsoo’s palm. It takes him a moment to respond, the suggestion leaving him flustered. “Yes, yes, of course, Kyungsoo,” he says. “Fuck. That’s so hot.”
His boyfriend flushes again, before his hands find purchase on Chanyeol’s broad shoulders. “Can you sit against the headboard?” he asks, fingers kneading into his muscle. Without another word, Chanyeol scrambles into position, his legs extended out in front of him with his back supported by the wooden headboard behind him. He holds his breath as Kyungsoo climbs on top of him, and lets out a low groan when their cocks rub together as he settles onto his lap.
“I want to prepare myself,” Kyungsoo says, a determined glint in his eye even as the blush remains.
Chanyeol swears he’s going to die. He’s so hard, so in love, he’s going to die. But still, he doesn’t want Kyungsoo to push himself too hard. “I’m pretty big,” he says worriedly. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Kyungsoo.”
Kyungsoo presses a sweet kiss on the underside of his jaw, his hands going back once more to his broad shoulders. It’s clear to Chanyeol now that it’s because the smaller boy is affected by his defined muscles.
“I’ll stretch myself properly,” Kyungsoo says, pressing another kiss along his neck this time. “I’ll fuck myself with four fingers. I promise.” His words elicit another moan from Chanyeol. He reaches behind Kyungsoo, grabbing hold of his ass again.
His boyfriend reaches off to the side to where they had tossed a string of condoms and a packet of lube when the night first started. Without hesitation, he rips open the condom wrapper before rolling the rubber down on Chanyeol’s cock. He takes the liberty to jerk Chanyeol off, wrist flicking around the head just right, and his hips jerk. Kyungsoo halts the movement all too soon, but the taller boy can’t complain when it’s to squeeze out lube as he spreads it across his fingers.
He looks on with adoration as Kyungsoo tilts his hips forward and spreads his thighs, his chin resting on Chanyeol’s shoulder, as he reaches behind himself. Biting his lower lip, Chanyeol strokes his hands appreciatively down Kyungsoo’s soft skin, caressing the line of his body with something akin to worship, eager to just touch and watch as his boyfriend pleasures himself. His own cock is hard, an angry red that’s turning nearly purple the longer he waits.
Pressing a kiss to the side of Kyungsoo’s face, he slides his hands all over the smaller boy’s body in feathering touches, teasing him with tantalizing strokes on heated skin. Then, abruptly, Kyungsoo’s eyelashes flutter in appreciation as his head falls back, his body jerking as he lets out a gasp, and he knows his boyfriend has pressed one finger into himself. His own cock throbs.
Kyungsoo in motion, touching himself, is a beautiful sight to see—and Chanyeol wishes he could actually see what he’s doing. So he grips Kyungsoo by the waist, pulling him forward until their chests are touching, until he can hook his chin over Kyungsoo’s shoulder and get a better view. With his hands, he reaches down until he’s grabbing two handfuls of Kyungsoo’s pert ass, and spreads his cheeks to expose his fingers and hole to his eyes.
Chanyeol moans out loud when he sees Kyungsoo plunging his fingers inside of himself. The smaller boy withdraws his finger only add a second one, circling two fingers around his hole. When he pushes them in, Kyungsoo gasps loudly at the sudden fullness,
“Holy shit,” Chanyeol groans, kneading at the meat of Kyungsoo’s ass as he watches the way his pink rim clings around his fingers, how they disappear inside his hole as he drives them in deeper.
“F-Feels so good,” Kyungsoo gasps. He pushes his hips back, chasing after the friction from his own fingers. The movement puts his hole on display, providing a better angle for Chanyeol to see Kyungsoo’s fingers fucking himself.
He can’t help but roll his hips up into Kyungsoo, letting his mouth trail from ear to neck to one slim shoulder. “You’re doing so well, Kyungsoo,” he whispers, kissing the delicate skin of his neck.
Kyungsoo shudders, letting out a desperate groan. He works himself up to a third finger, sliding them in and out of his hole with a sort of wanton neediness that has the fire roaring under Chanyeol’s skin feeling nearly explosive.
“You’re so beautiful,” he moans, one of his hands trailing from the swell of Kyungsoo’s cheek to trace around his stuffed hole. The rim is taut under his finger, stretched tight around three of Kyungsoo’s fingers as the smaller boy scissors himself.
Kyungsoo lets out another sob. “Want, ah, want you,” he gasps, his hole fluttering as he bears down on his fingers. “Please!”
Carefully, he spreads the excess lube around Kyungsoo’s hole onto his finger, getting it nice and slick, before he presses in a finger alongside Kyungsoo’s. “Ah, Chan-Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo sobs. “G-Good, so good, ah!”
Kyungsoo is shaking now, moaning Chanyeol’s name with a tinge of desperation as he rocks up and down against both their fingers. His hole clamps down on them both, tight around the intrusion. Head thrown back, back curved in a delicious arch, Kyungsoo hiccups as he moans shakily around both their fingers.
“A-Ah! So good, so perfect, Chanyeol, your finger is so, oh, so b-big—ah—so m-much, ah, ah, bigger t-than mine,” Kyungsoo babbles, making needy little noises right by Chanyeol’s ear. He pistons his finger in and out slowly, not wanting to hurt Kyungsoo, until the smaller boy feels loosened up enough.
Kyungsoo lets out a keening noise when he pulls his fingers out. The warm heat of his inner walls clamp down on Chanyeol’s lone finger, and he thrusts it in and out a few more times, delighting in the helpless mewls escaping from Kyungsoo’s plush mouth, before he pulls his finger out of his ass as well.
“I’m ready, Chanyeol-ah,” Kyungsoo says, and then he’s taking Chanyeol’s cock in hand. The taller boy moans aloud, the touch feeling heavenly on his neglected cock. He lines the tip against his entrance, Chanyeol moving his hands back to his ass to help Kyungsoo ease the way. Chanyeol’s big, and he knows it, so when Kyungsoo presses the head of his cock against his entrance, his rim remains stubbornly tight despite the stretch from both their fingers.
“Slowly,” Chanyeol chokes out, sweat dripping down his brow, as Kyungsoo’s body shudders as he slowly works the head of Chanyeol’s cock in. The smaller boy is gasping breathlessly, hips twitching, wriggling to try and sink down on his cock. Inch by inch, he bears down on Chanyeol’s length until he finally gets the blunt, thick head of Chanyeol’s cock past his entrance. Kyungsoo pauses, the muscles of his thick thighs tensed as he holds himself in place, rim fluttering agonizingly around the head of Chanyeol’s cock.
“You’re—oh!” Kyungsoo chokes out a gasp as he sinks down another inch on his cock. The head pops past his entrance, his inner walls clamping down at the sudden fullness. “You’re so big,” he moans wantonly.
Chanyeol grits his teeth, his nails biting into the flesh of Kyungsoo’s ass as he fights the urge to buck into his boyfriend’s tight, wet heat. He’s not even halfway in yet, and Kyungsoo already feels heavenly around him.
After a few seconds of stillness as Kyungsoo adjusts to the girth, the smaller boy begins moving again, rolling his hips as he continues working Chanyeol’s cock in. Slow and steady, Chanyeol feels as his hole slowly accommodates the girth of his cock, opening up for him as the smaller boy sinks down, inch by inch. It’s almost agonizingly tight, and Kyungsoo has to pause after every inch or so, allowing himself to adjust to the size.
Chanyeol presses another series of kisses along Kyungsoo’s skin. “You okay, baby?” he asks, sliding his hands back up as he strokes along his sides in a comforting caress. His cock is throbbing, halfway in Kyungsoo now, and he’s tense from trying his best not to move.
“Mmm,” Kyungsoo moans, nodding blearily, eyes closed as he focuses on taking more of Chanyeol inside his hole. He rolls his hips again. Chanyeol lets out another hiss as Kyungsoo slides down another inch, pleasure rolling through him wave after wave. “Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo gasps. “You’re so big, so—ah—so good.”
“Almost there,” Chanyeol says soothingly. He lets out a shout when Kyungsoo finally slides all the way down with a jolt of his hips, his hands automatically coming up to grip into the meat of his hips hard enough that he’s sure he’s going to leave bruises afterwards. Kyungsoo’s perfect, pilates-trained ass is resting on Chanyeol’s thighs now, his toes curling as he sits on Chanyeol’s cock. The warm heat clamping around his length feels heavenly, but it’s the sight of Kyungsoo whimpering in pleasure, mouth agape, tears leaking out from the corner of his eyes that has his cock twitching in arousal inside of Kyungsoo’s warmth.
“Aaah, mmm, Ch-Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo whimpers, stilling for a moment as he adjusts to the full size of Chanyeol’s cock. His hips jerk minutely, twitching from the urge to move. “S-So big,” Kyungsoo gasps. “I’m s-so, oh, full. So de—mm—deep inside of, ah, me!” His walls flutter around Chanyeol’s length, drawing another shuddering moan from the taller man. Kyungsoo’s breath comes out in small whimpers as the smaller man tries to relax around the stretch, to unclench around Chanyeol’s cock.
“Do you want me to pull out, baby? Is it too much?” he murmurs, cradling Kyungsoo jaw as he strokes the soft skin of his face. Kyungsoo’s hands are clawing at the thick muscles of his biceps now, clenching and unclenching. He sits up straight, and Chanyeol’s cock slides in even deeper, and he lets out a shuddering wail as the thick girth presses right against his sweet bundle of nerves.
“No, y-you feel so perfect, ah, inside of me,” Kyungsoo says, catching his breath. “I’m going to try m-moving.”
Chanyeol lets out another moan as Kyungsoo rolls his hips, lifting off his cock slowly until only the head remained. Then, abruptly, he slams back down in one fluid movement, impaling himself on Chanyeol’s cock.
Kyungsoo wails. Head thrown back, his mouth falls open in a loud cry, gasping and shuddering as his body writhes on top of Chanyeol’s. He’s squirming, hole clenching on the girth.
Worried it’s too much at once, Chanyeol smooths his hands over Kyungsoo’s thighs. “Are you oka—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Kyungsoo lifts up from his cock again, biting off a curse as Kyungsoo begins to fuck himself on Chanyeol’s girth. He rides Chanyeol with enthusiasm, loud gasps and shaky moans falling from his lips. His thigh muscles bunch and release as he rocks up and down on Chanyeol’s girth, each thrust building off the last. It’s incredible, electricity jolting through Chanyeol’s veins as Kyungsoo bounces in his lap, the smaller boy’s loud cries echoing throughout his room. Despite the exertion, Kyungsoo doesn’t even seem winded yet—years of pilates building up a slow endurance and stamina, and it’s ever more evident with every thrust.
“So perfect, ah, ah, oh, so good, so—oh God! Ch-Chanyeol, you’re, ah so perfect, so deep, oh, hng, so big in-inside of me,” Kyungsoo moans. He’s making small mewling noises, babbling nearly incoherently as he grinds down on Chanyeol’s cock. “I’m so full, stretched so good, aaah, so b-big!”
It’s nearly overwhelming, the white-hot strike of pleasure running through his veins, his hands trembling as he lets Kyungsoo set the pace. It’s nearly brutal, the smaller boy slamming back down on him without rest, his cock pistoning in and out of his tight hole as his boyfriend trembles and gasps and moans. Kyungsoo braces himself on Chanyeol’s shoulders, his fingers kneading into the thick muscles, shuddering on his thick cock as he bounces harder. He has a perfect view of Kyungsoo’s cock, prettily blushed and red, bouncing every time he sinks down on Chanyeol’s cock, leaving smears of precum on his soft tummy. The sight makes his mouth water, and he makes a note to suck Kyungsoo down next time with the smaller boy’s legs spread over his shoulders until his thighs are clamped tightly around his head as he cums.
Something hot and heavy settles in his stomach when he notices Kyungsoo slowing down, his thighs quivering from the strain. The smaller boy slows until he’s grinding his hips in sweet, sweet circles, his breath still coming out in shuddering gasps. “Ah, you feel s-so perfect inside of me,” Kyungsoo moans. He lifts one hand off Chanyeol’s shoulder and brings it to his tummy, pressing against it. “C-Can feel it here, I s-swear, o-oh! S-so good, want you to ruin me.”
And all of a sudden, Chanyeol feels nearly feral with how desperate he feels. He can feel himself getting close as Kyungsoo shudders on his cock, and he knows from the way Kyungsoo is still moaning that the smaller boy is too. The desperation hits the quarterback in a sudden rush, and he pitches forward, capturing Kyungsoo’s lips in a filthy, obscene kiss, drinking in the sighs and gasps. His hands fall to the rounded globes of his ass once more, fingers nearly brushing against the taut, sensitive skin of his entrance.
“Gonna fuck you properly now,” Chanyeol grunts out, and it’s all the warning he gives before he tightens his grip on Kyungsoo’s ass, the muscles in his arms flexing, before pulling Kyungsoo off his cock completely, the smaller boy letting out a wail at the sudden emptiness. Then, he lines the thick head of his cock against Kyungsoo’s hole, kissing the entrance with the tip of his girth, and slams him down, his wet, heated walls stretching wide to accommodate his length once more.
Kyungsoo pitches his head back, screaming, his hole spasming around Chanyeol’s cock. “Yes! Yes! Harder, oh, more!”
Fueled by pure lust and desperation, Chanyeol growls, as he bounces Kyungsoo on his cock, driving the full length of his cock in and out of the smaller boy’s ass. Every thrust is deep and wild, holding Kyungsoo’s hole open. Each time he pulls Kyungsoo back down onto his cock, the smaller boy lets out another loud wail as Chanyeol grazes against his prostate. The room is filled with slick, obscene, wet, slapping noises as Chanyeol fucks Kyungsoo, his arms tensed as the smaller boy rests limply in his lap, allowing Chanyeol to support his weight like a ragdoll.
“Yes!” Kyungsoo sobs. “Please, yes, yes! More, oh God, yes!”
Chanyeol chokes on his own cries, cock driving in deeper with each thrust. With a growl, he tips Kyungsoo’s hips back, sinking in deep and pressing right up against the smaller boy’s prostate. The new angle has Kyungsoo screaming, crying out with every thrust, his own cock bouncing against his soft belly.
“Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, oh, so good! So—haaah—so good, so thick, ah!”
He feels his head start to whirl, his vision whiting out. Heat pools in his gut, Kyungsoo tight heat clamped around him too much, the loud, desperate moans filling him with a frenzy that has Chanyeol’s abs clenching. He feels like he’s running off the edge, his mind going blank, his own moans coming out as harsh gasps.
Clumsily, Chanyeol reaches for Kyungsoo’s cock. Kyungsoo is making high-pitched whining noises now, tears streaming down his face in pure ecstasy. “Chanyeol!” he cries on an up-stroke, shuddering, and then he cums all over himself and on Chanyeol’s abs. Even as he orgasms, he rides Chanyeol’s cock with wild abandon, his eyes glazed and teary. His head is tipped back, blissed out.
In the end, it’s the sight of Kyungsoo riding him through his own orgasm, lips swollen, face flushed, mouth gaping, breathless and gone, that pushes Chanyeol over the edge. He pulls Kyungsoo in for a kiss, sucking and licking into his mouth with a force almost enough to bruise, as he slams his thick, heavy cock inside of Kyungsoo, railing so deep in that his vision whites out. And then he cums, his orgasm ripping uncontrollably out of him as he spills into the condom.
They’re both breathing hard when they come down from their orgasm, the rush of it slowly leaving them. When Chanyeol’s cock softens enough to pull out, he does so gently, wincing in apology when he feels Kyungsoo let out a whimper. Slowly, he guides Kyungsoo onto the bed until they’re both lying down, their chests heaving as they recover from the exertion.
“I’ll be right back,” Chanyeol says, pressing a chaste kiss to Kyungsoo’s slack lips before climbing out of bed. He nearly collapses on the floor, his legs wobbly and unworking, but regains his senses quick enough. Without wasting another second, he quickly grabs a towel from his washroom and runs it under the sink to get it cool and wet. He walks briskly back to his room, thankful that Sehun isn’t home right now so that he doesn’t have to waste time getting dressed.
Kyungsoo is still lying limp and spent on the bed, his plush mouth open as he dozes with his eyes closed. He looks fucked out, pliable, and so fucking hot. Pride strikes through Chanyeol—he did that.
He smiles, and gently runs the washcloth along Kyungsoo’s body, cleaning off the sweat and cum to the best of his ability. Kyungsoo’s legs are still open, and he gently pries apart his cheeks to clean around his hole. A spike of heat jolts through his veins when he sees how swollen and sloppy his hole has become, but he feels more pleased than anything, and he keeps his touch light and soft, mindful of how sensitive his boyfriend must be.
When he’s finally done cleaning up himself, he joins Kyungsoo on the bed. The smaller boy must not have been sleeping after all, because he emits a soft noise and snuggles closer, tucking his nose against Chanyeol’s collarbone.
“You okay?” Chanyeol asks. He smiles as he runs his hand down the back of Kyungsoo’s head, petting his hair soothingly.
“You didn’t let me suck your dick,” Kyungsoo replies, his voice slightly muffled from where it’s buried against Chanyeol’s neck. He sounds petulant, enough so that it shocks Chanyeol for a brief moment before he laughs.
Fondness fills his heart, warming him from inside out, and he presses a fond kiss against the crown of Kyungsoo’s head. “Next time then, baby.”
“You better,” Kyungsoo says. He swears he can feel the pilates instructor pouting. It’s adorable, so adorable that he wraps his arms around the smaller boy and squeezes him into a tight hug. Kyungsoo lets out a little “oof,” but it only warms his heart more.
“Other than that, was it good for you?”
Kyungsoo nods, the tips of his ears red. “You were perfect,” Kyungsoo says, and then he’s squeezing back. He tips his head back so that he can look at Chanyeol, his wide doe-eyes half-lidded and sleepy, and just as expected, his lips are set in a pout. Though Chanyeol doesn’t know how much of it is because he’s actually pouting over something or if it’s just his habit. “Next time you should let me show you how flexible I am from pilates too.”
It squeezes out another surprised laughter from the taller man, who gathers Kyungsoo close and holds him against his heart, wondering if the smaller boy can hear how thunderously it’s pounding. He feels so full of love. “Okay, baby. I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” Kyungsoo grumbles. But then he smiles, the perfect, heart-stopping smile that Chanyeol had fallen in love with the first time he had ever seen him. “Now let me sleep. You tired me out.”
Chanyeol laughs again, and then captures his boyfriend’s lips in an affectionate kiss. “Sleep,” he says. He’s tired too. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes, succumbing to sleep himself, is the image of his boyfriend, beautiful Do Kyungsoo, smiling back fondly at him.
Together, they fall asleep. Hearts beating in tandem, in love and happy.