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The crowd was absolutely feral that night.
Shouts bounced off every concrete wall and metal railing like they were trying to break the place apart. Down by the barrier, some guy was screaming himself raw. “Come on, Jisung! Fucking do it!” The kid right next to him kept whistling so sharply it cut through everything and bouncing on his toes like he could personally push the red Porsche to the finish line if he just believed hard enough.
Jaemin stood pressed against Chenle, their shoulders brushing every time either of them moved. But Jaemin was not really present. His eyes were locked on his boyfriend’s mouth, lips parted, totally zoned out from the race. The guy beside them noticed and rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way possible, until that scarlet streak flew past. So close the wind hit like a slap, ripping breath and hair and clear thoughts away for a split second.
Park Jisung was racing, again.
The arena had transformed into a battlefield of sound. One half of the stands had relentlessly hammered “Park Jisung!” while the other half answered with equal fury “John Suh!” The two names collided mid-air and echoed off every metal railing and slab of concrete.
Chenle was in his usual spot. Front row, fingers wrapped so tight around the freezing metal barrier that his knuckles turned bone white. Up in the cheaper seats most people were already treating the race like a done deal, same winner, same script, boring. But no, not Chenle. The second that green flag dropped, the same wildfire still exploded in his chest that he felt the very first time he ever stood here as a kid.
Every scream in the place, every tire screech, every thud of his own heartbeat, it was all for Jisung. Or at least for the version of them that Chenle still clung to calling “best friends.”
His obsession with racing had begun when he was a child. His older cousin used to drag him to meets, let him perch on the toolbox in the garage while engines were tuned, then haul him trackside to watch grown men try to destroy themselves at insane speeds. Chenle never once sat behind the wheel himself; he was too scared, too aware of how quickly metal could crumple with the smallest, simplest mistake. But he never missed a single event. He was always at the same place. As close to the fence as security would let him get, eyes huge, heart trying to punch its way out of his throat.
That was where he first ran into Park Jisung.
Two reckless kids on opposite sides of a rusty chain-link fence, one yelling for the blue Nissan, the other for the black Supra. Yet somehow every single time they met, they ended up right next to each other anyway. Shoving when one driver pulled ahead, laughing when they both screamed themselves hoarse. Years later, those random collisions turned into something solid. One spare key that got handed over without asking, making its way into the shared apartment.
Chenle still never raced.
Jisung chased the one dream he had carried since he was small enough to barely reach the pedals in a go-kart. That red Porsche was not just a car anymore. It was part of his hands, his stubborn teenage promise to himself that he would make it. And he had, actually, succeeded.
“Sixth turn coming up!” a pack of girls shrieked in perfect sync a few rows behind.
Chenle rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt his head. They had been running the same loop since the flag dropped.
“God, imagine those hands wrapped around my throat…”
“He’s gonna win and then bend me right over the hood while the engine is still hot…”
“I’d let him fuck me stupid in the driver’s seat… Door wide open, everyone watching…”
Each word hit Chenle’s tongue like battery acid.
He knew how pathetic it was. He knew he had zero claim. He knew it made him small and bitter and jealous in a way that embarrassed him to his core. But knowing did not stop the urge to spin around and rip their glossy lips right off their faces. Because in every single filthy scene they painted so clearly, if Jisung ever actually went through with any of it, the body pinned under him or the mouth he kissed… would definitely be his, not theirs.
He could see it too easily. Jisung’s race gloves still on, reeking of burnt rubber and pure adrenaline, shoving him back against the still warm hood. Those same hands that just wrestled hundreds of horsepower sliding under Chenle’s shirt instead. That same mouth that smirked at cameras and interviewers whispering dirty promises against his neck. That same post-victory high turned completely on him…
Chenle swallowed hard and forced his eyes back to the track.
The cars were already screaming down the long straight again, red still leading by half a car length, taillights glowing like angry eyes in the dark. The crowd noise jumped another impossible level. Somewhere behind him a beer can hit the ground and burst. Someone else screamed until their voice cracked in half.
Through all of it Chenle stayed perfectly still, pulse hammering in his ears louder than any engine, jealousy and want and years of almost something twisting tighter and tighter in his chest.
One way or another, everyone was screaming Jisung’s name tonight.
That part was fine. Normal. Expected indeed.
The part that was not fine, the part that had been quietly eating him alive for way longer than he wanted to admit was how badly he wanted to be the reason Jisung looked that alive after the checkered flag dropped.
And how much it hurt to know he probably never would be.
Those feelings had grown too large, quietly colonizing every empty space inside his chest until almost nothing had been left that didn’t ache with want. He could never say a single word. Not one. Not if he wanted to keep the late nights, their shared couch, the way Jisung still called him by his name like nothing had changed since they first met. So he had to stay silent and burned by himself, if he did not wish to change.
As understood, Zhong Chenle had been quietly and helplessly burning alive for Park Jisung.
A gust had ripped through. Chenle’s bold red hair had flared as the two cars screamed past again, bumpers so close they were almost touching. Chenle’s brows had snapped together instantly. They were too fucking close.
Across on the far stand, Ten Lee had been screaming, his voice cracking on every syllable.
“John Suh! John Suh! Come on, baby!”
The casual “baby” had sliced through Chenle like a blade. He had hated how easy it sounded. How Ten got to yell it without hesitation. How John always looked for him first when he climbed out. Chenle would probably never yell “baby” to Jisung. That word had been locked behind his ribs, bloody and bruised.
As he couldn’t name his growing feelings inside, he had turned and elbowed Jaemin hard in the ribs.
Jaemin had peeled himself off Jeno long enough to look surprised. “What, Chenle?”
Chenle had folded his arms tight across his chest. “You selfish bastard. You can’t just leave Jisung without cheers because you’re too busy making out.”
Jaemin had let out a soft, amused chuckle. “You want cheers for the boy you’re in love with, so I’m not allowed to kiss my Jeno anymore?”
The words had hit Chenle like a slap. “Shut the fuck up, you idiot! Did I tell you that so you could scream it in front of everyone?”
His voice had risen without him realizing it.
Jaemin had only blown him a teasing kiss in response. Then, without another word, he turned fully toward Jeno, wrapped both arms around the slightly taller boy’s neck, and picked up exactly where their kiss left off.
Chenle didn’t pay much attention to Jaemin after that, because Jisung had just pulled ahead.
The entire arena seemed to lift with the rising roar of voices. Chenle suddenly found himself shouting, almost screaming, along with everyone else. Jisung had pressed the accelerator harder; the gap between the two cars had shrunk rapidly as the red Porsche hurtled toward the finish line.
Chenle had stood frozen in place, eyes wide open, refusing to blink even once. His breath stayed trapped in his chest. Every bit of his focus had narrowed to that single scarlet blur tearing down the track.
The sudden swell of screams had finally pulled Jaemin away from his boyfriend’s lips. Curiously, he had turned toward the course just in time to see Jisung widen the lead even further. A sharp whistle had escaped Jaemin’s mouth; that was pure admiration for his close friend.
At that exact moment, the two cars had crossed the line. A loud, echoing announcement had rung through the arena, declaring the race officially over.
The crowd had detonated.
“Park Jisung! Park Jisung!” had crashed like a wave. The opposite stand had gone eerily quiet. Across the way, Ten’s shoulders had slumped, his brows pinched in bitter defeat.
Chenle, on the other hand, had broken into a wide, triumphant grin. Without a second thought, he had jumped down from his spot and sprinted toward the red Porsche that had just rolled to a stop.
Jaemin and Jeno had followed, laughing breathlessly as they ran.
But before Chenle could reach him, one of the girls who always showed up to every race had thrown herself around Jisung’s neck the second he stepped out of the car. Chenle was so sick and tired of the same glossy lips, the same tiny top, the same routine.
Because of that, he had frozen mid-stride. A hot spike had driven through his chest; his hands had curled into fists so tight his nails bit crescents into his palms.
Behind him, Jaemin had muttered under his breath, “Bitch.” Jeno had let out a quiet chuckle.
Chenle had barely registered their words. His eyes had been locked on Jisung, waiting, watching his reaction.
Jisung hadn’t returned the embrace. Chenle knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he had placed one hand on the girl’s waist and pushed her away from his body with clear, deliberate force, sending her stumbling off to the side.
Then his gaze lifted, straight to Chenle.
A slow, relieved smile had spread across Chenle’s face. He had broken into a run again, closing the last few meters between them without hesitation.
Chenle’s hands found Jisung’s neck almost instantly. Instead of pushing him away the way he had done to the girl moments earlier, Jisung had wrapped both arms around Chenle’s waist, pulling him in close.
“Congratulations,” Chenle had breathed, fingers already twisting into the sweaty hair at Jisung’s nape. “You won again. And again.”
Pride had bled through every word, impossible to miss.
Jisung must have caught it too, because he had buried his face against the side of Chenle’s neck and murmured in a low, rough voice, “Thanks to you.”
Chenle’s heart tripped violently. He had pulled back just enough to make Jisung lift his head. Now they were face to face.
“Thanks to me?” Chenle echoed, tilting his head slightly as he studied the face so close to his own.
Jisung had nodded once, firmly. “Thanks to you. I could feel your support the whole time.”
Chenle let out another quiet laugh, but then he had caught the way Jisung’s gaze swept over him. It was careful, appreciative, almost greedy.
“White looks good on you,” Jisung murmured, the words rolling low and lazy in his mouth.
The simple compliment had slammed Chenle’s pulse against his ribs. He swallowed silently. Jisung’s eyes had drifted lower, settling on the delicate column of his throat.
When Jisung had raised a hand and guided it toward Chenle’s neck, Chenle had fought the urge to swallow again. The gentle pressure had always made it impossible to stay still. Jisung’s fingertips had brushed the chain of the necklace, grazing the pale skin beneath.
“Nice necklace,” Jisung added, quieter still.
Chenle’s head had spun. The touch lingered, fingertips sliding lightly along the column of his throat before pulling away. Chenle had swallowed hard despite himself.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
One corner of Jisung’s mouth had curved upward. His hand stayed at Chenle’s waist, warm and steady. When Chenle had slowly unwound his arms from around Jisung’s neck, Jisung had muttered something under his breath and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Before Chenle could even respond, Jaemin’s voice had cut through.
“Park Jisung, you were so fucking perfect!” He held out his hand.
The two friends had slapped palms, grinning wide. Then Jisung had pretended to scowl. “Get lost. I bet you were too busy sucking face with Jeno to even watch.”
Jaemin had gasped theatrically. “Multitasking is an unappreciated skill, you ungrateful little shit.”
All three of them had burst into laughter at that.
Jeno had leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “He wasn’t even going to come tonight. He tried to bribe me with all kinds of filthy promises just so he could stay home.”
Jaemin’s eyes had gone comically wide. “What the- Jeno! You are such a backstabber!”
Chenle had still been laughing at them when Jisung had grumbled, “Na Jaemin, you’re the biggest asshole I know. I’m seriously reconsidering letting you call yourself my best friend.”
Chenle’s eyebrow had shot up at the words. “Wait. I thought I was your best friend?”
Jisung’s gaze slid back to him. He had tilted his head slightly toward Chenle, voice softer now. “You’re different.”
Chenle’s pulse had raced again. Inside, he had rolled his eyes at his own stupid, helpless excitement. Before he could say anything, Jisung had turned to the others. “By the way, we’re leaving.”
Jaemin’s brows shot up in surprise. “What? Where the hell are you going? We haven’t even celebrated yet.”
Jisung shrugged, already turning away. “I’m tired. We celebrate after every race anyway. I’m going home to rest.”
He didn’t give them room to argue.
Chenle didn’t mind the idea of leaving early. To him, the air always felt lighter away from the crowds. He could say that celebrations had never really been his thing; because Jisung was always the center of attention, and that was exactly how it should be. Still, there were times when Jisung’s focus shifted entirely to him, and in those quiet, stolen moments, Chenle secretly welcomed the chaos because it eventually led back to just the two of them.
“Fine, okay then,” Jaemin muttered uncertainly.
Jisung gave him a lazy grin. “Good night, you two. I’m taking Chenle home.”
Jeno laughed softly. “Good night. We expect triplets,” Jaemin called after them.
Jisung flipped him off without looking back.
•••
By then, most of the crowd had already started to scatter.
The few people still trying to snap photos of Jisung shouted his name one last time, but when no answer came, they eventually gave up and drifted away.
Jisung caught Chenle’s eye, winked once, and jerked his chin toward the car. Chenle nodded and followed without a word. The moment people realized Jisung was actually heading to the driver’s side, fresh screams erupted behind them. Chenle straightened his shoulders instinctively, letting the sound wash over him.
He had just reached for the passenger door when his gaze slid sideways. Ten was leaning against John Suh’s car, arms crossed, watching him. When their eyes met, Ten dipped his head in a small, polite bow of greeting. A wide, genuine smile broke across his face.
Chenle returned a faint smile of his own, the last thing he saw before Ten turned his attention back to John, who was still resting against the hood.
Without lingering, Chenle slipped into the passenger seat, closed the door, and buckled his seatbelt. When the car still didn’t move after several seconds, he turned to look at Jisung.
Jisung was already watching him.
Chenle found himself studying him again, helplessly. A few strands of Jisung’s black hair had fallen across his forehead. The black leather jacket hugged his shoulders and arms in a way that made Chenle’s breath hitch. Beneath it, the thin white t-shirt dipped low enough to reveal a tempting line of collarbone and chest. Chenle silently cursed the sight; the exposed skin alone was enough to drag his thoughts into dangerous territory. Jisung had thrown on dark jeans that clung in all the right places. When Chenle’s gaze finally climbed back to Jisung’s face, he saw the tiniest smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
A shaky breath slipped past Chenle’s lips at the same moment he managed to ask, “Aren’t we leaving?”
Jisung blew the stray lock of hair out of his eyes with a soft puff, then leaned back in the seat. “Of course, we are,” he said calmly.
The handbrake released with a quiet click. A second later, Jisung floored the accelerator. Chenle couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.
The arena hadn’t fully emptied yet; so a few more scattered screams rose behind them. Jisung ignored them completely. He steered the red Porsche smoothly toward the exit, tires biting into the asphalt. They were fast, fast enough that when Chenle glanced in the side mirror, he could see the cloud of dust rising in their wake, lit gold by the arena lights.
As soon as they left the arena and merged onto the open road, Chenle let out a long, slow breath and reached over to roll down the passenger window.
Jisung glanced sideways. “Tired?”
Chenle shook his head. “No, I’m not. You were incredible, though.”
In the rear-view mirror, he caught the small, pleased curve of Jisung’s smile. Jisung didn’t reply, and Chenle let his eyelids fall closed again. A comfortable quiet settled between them. Usually, they filled the drive with easy chatter, but tonight the silence felt different, thicker, heavier with something unspoken.
The wind rushing in through the open window whipped at his hair and carried the sharp night air into his lungs. He drew in a deep breath and felt the corners of his mouth lift on their own. Straightening his back, he shifted in the seat until his posture was neat again.
When he licked his lips, he realized how dry they were.
The roughness made him frown. Without thinking, he caught his lower lip between his teeth and tried to bite away the peeling skin.
“Chenle.”
The low voice from the driver’s seat stopped him instantly.
Chenle’s eyes fluttered open. “Hm?”
Jisung’s gaze was already on him. “Stop biting your lip.”
The command landed like velvet against Chenle’s skin; his body obeyed before his mind could catch up. The dry flake came away under his teeth anyway. He rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance.
“Be a good boy and keep your eyes on the road, Jisung Park.”
Jisung’s eyes flicked up to meet his in the rear-view mirror this time. He held the contact. “That’s exactly why I’m saying it.” He didn’t look away.
“So stop biting your lip.” His voice dropped lower, almost a murmur. “Unless you want me focusing on something other than the road.”
Chenle’s breath hitched for a second. Their eyes stayed locked until Jisung finally broke the gaze, turning his attention back to the dark stretch of asphalt ahead.
The engine answered with a deeper growl as he pressed the accelerator harder. The red Porsche surged forward, filling the quiet cabin with the smooth, insistent roar of speed.
They reached home sooner than Chenle expected. Jisung pulled the red Porsche into the garage with smooth precision and killed the engine. Chenle blinked his eyes open, fingers already moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. The metal clasp clattered against the side of the seat louder than he anticipated; the sharp sound made him flinch. He had been lost in thought.
He rolled the window back up. Beside him, Jisung tugged the handbrake on again, pocketed the keys, and stepped out. Chenle followed suit, pushing his door open and sliding out of the car. The twin thuds of the doors closing echoed through the garage, followed a heartbeat later by the soft chirp of the locks engaging.
The warm night air ruffled his hair the moment he stepped away from the car. Jisung glanced at the strands dancing across his forehead, then let his gaze drift slowly over the rest of him before turning toward the house. The white villa stood waiting under the soft glow of the exterior lights. Chenle exhaled quietly through his lips.
He felt so strange.
As he walked toward the front door, Jisung was already there, leaning back against it, arms crossed over his chest, head resting lightly against the wood. From beneath lowered lashes, he watched every step Chenle took, never once looking away.
Under that steady stare, Chenle’s hands began to tremble. He shoved them deep into the pockets of his black pants to hide it. The motion pulled his white jacket backward, bunching the fabric and exposing the thin t-shirt underneath.
When he finally reached the door, Jisung still hadn’t moved aside. Chenle raised one eyebrow in silent question. Jisung didn’t react, didn’t shift an inch. With a small huff, Chenle leaned forward and guided the key toward the lock.
Jisung’s eyes never left his face.
Chenle had to press closer to reach the keyhole, one arm extended, body tilting inevitably toward Jisung’s. Their faces were only inches apart now; their bodies even closer. He turned the key once, and twice. Then the lock clicked open.
He drew the key back toward himself and stepped away. Without breaking eye contact, he gestured toward the open doorway with one hand, silently offering Jisung the right of way.
Jisung didn’t blink. He turned sideways and stepped inside. Chenle followed, kicking off his shoes and tossing them carelessly to the side. A soft laugh escaped him at his own haste. Jisung removed his more slowly, methodically.
Chenle shrugged off his jacket just as quickly and headed for the stairs.
“I’m going up to my room!” he called over his shoulder.
He could feel Jisung’s gaze burning into his back.
“Okay,” He replied evenly. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Chenle nodded without turning around and climbed the stairs. When he reached the top, he drew in a deep, steadying breath; walked straight to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it, tipping his head until it rested on the wood, and covered his face with both hands.
He was burning up.
And the only reason was Jisung.
Those eyes were destroying him, slowly, deliberately. Every glance left him trembling, limbs tangled, utterly lost in the weight of being seen. Jisung had made him dependent on nothing more than a look.
He dragged his hands down his face, raking his fingers back through his hair, and took another long breath. Then he pushed off the door and walked to the window. When he opened it, the cool breeze slipped inside and brushed across his heated skin, grounding him just enough.
With a quiet groan, he let himself collapse onto the bed.
But unfortunately, at the same time, a knock came from the door.
Too drained to stand, he raised his voice. “Come on in, Jisung.” He mumbled into the duvet.
The door opened.
Chenle tipped his head back against the mattress to see.
Jisung stood there wrapped in nothing but a white towel knotted low around his hips. His upper body was bare. Droplets still clung to his damp black hair, trailing slow paths down his neck and over the sharp lines of his collarbone.
He closed the door behind him.
“Chenle,” he said quietly. “The water in my shower won’t heat up. Can I use yours?”
Chenle’s fingers tightened on the railing until his knuckles ached. “…Yeah. Sure.”
He didn’t look back.
In his bedroom, he collapsed face-first onto the sheets and screamed silently into the pillow for ten full seconds.
He’s literally just going to shower. Calm the fuck down.
Seeing Jisung like this, standing half-naked in the middle of his room, was dangerous. Devastating even.
Jisung’s gaze flicked briefly to Chenle’s hair, fanned out across the sheets. Chenle, meanwhile, was busy tracing every inch of exposed skin. The defined ridges of his abdomen, the faint lines that disappeared beneath the towel. Oh god, how many nights had he spent imagining dragging himself against those muscles until dawn?
He swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a second, then forced himself to stand. Jisung’s eyes followed him as he turned and walked toward the en-suite bathroom. Jisung followed without a word.
Chenle stepped inside and moved straight to the shower.
He turned the water on gently and stepped aside, making sure Jisung wouldn’t come too close just yet. Jisung remained right behind him, silent and watchful. When Chenle tested the stream with his hand, the sudden cold made him flinch; he quickly twisted the knob toward hotter. Still, the water refused to warm. A quiet curse rolled around inside his mouth.
He turned to Jisung. “It’s not heating up at all.”
Jisung puffed out his cheeks in mild frustration. Chenle couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight.
“Watch me now,” he murmured, turning his back again.
He shut off the tap, cranked the hot side even further, and waited a few long seconds. When he opened it again, the thing he hadn’t calculated was that the water could explode out in a violent burst. It caught him completely off guard. Chenle yelped and raised his voice without thinking.
“What kind of bullshit is this!”
His shirt was instantly soaked. Eyes squeezed shut, he reached blindly to turn it off, but then the stream finally turned hot. Without touching the knob again, he spun around. One eye cracked open. He looked at Jisung and let out a breathless laugh.
“At least it’s warm now.”
The words didn’t make Jisung smile. He simply watched, his expression was unreadable, as the water cascaded over Chenle’s head, down to his chest, plastering the thin white t-shirt to every curve and line of his body. His pants grew heavy with water. Strands of hair fell across his eyes. His face glistened.
“Anyway, you take your shower,” Chenle said quickly, already moving to step past him.
But his attempt failed.
Park Jisung’s hands settled firmly on Chenle’s waist and pulled him forward in one smooth motion. Chenle’s wet chest collided with Jisung’s bare one. His breath caught, then came out in a shaky murmur.
“Jisung?”
Their faces were close, dangerously close. The rest of the world felt miles away. They both swallowed at the same time. Jisung’s gaze dropped to Chenle’s wet lips. His grip tightened incrementally. Chenle let out a trembling exhale.
Chenle’s eyes were fixed on Jisung’s mouth, those full lips now only millimeters away. One tiny movement and they would meet.
Warm water continued to pour over them as Jisung dipped his head lower. “Chenle,” he breathed, voice rough and low.
Chenle tried not to swallow again. His head was spinning, he could barely process the words.
“I’m not okay, Chenle. Fuck… stop me.”
The hands at Chenle’s waist squeezed harder. Reflexively, Chenle licked his lower lip. Jisung’s eyes tracked the motion like it was the only thing that existed.
“Jisung,” Chenle started.
The word died the instant Jisung’s mouth crashed against his.
The kiss was hungry, almost desperate. Chenle responded immediately, hands flying up to grip Jisung’s shoulders as he was pushed backward until his spine met the tiled wall. The impact didn’t register; he only tangled his fingers in wet black hair and pressed their bodies together harder. Jisung’s towel was getting drenched now too.
Water streamed between their joined mouths, mixing with the slick sounds filling the small space. Jisung pulled him impossibly closer. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from Chenle’s throat into Jisung’s mouth. The sound seemed to ignite something, because it led Jisung to kiss him faster and deeper.
Chenle tilted his head, tongues meeting in a slow, wet slide. One hand stayed knotted in Jisung’s hair; the other clung to his shoulder. At the same time, Jisung kept one palm firm at Chenle’s waist while the other began to wander, over the soaked t-shirt clinging to his chest, down to the heavy weight of his pants, along the curve of his hip, up to his cheek, across his throat. Everywhere.
When that roaming hand finally curled around the back of Chenle’s neck, Jisung bit down gently on his lower lip. Chenle gasped, pulling back just enough to breathe. In the brief space he created, he reversed their positions, pressing Jisung back against the wall instead.
The hand that had been on Jisung’s shoulder slid down to his chest. Chenle sealed their mouths together again, sucking lightly on Jisung’s upper lip. Jisung mirrored him on the lower one. Chenle’s hands drifted lower still, tracing the taut lines of Jisung’s abdomen. His breathing grew ragged. A faint smile curved Chenle’s lips against his.
The moment his mouth stretched, Jisung pressed with his teeth, coaxing Chenle’s lips apart. His tongue slipped inside. Their mouths tangled again, deeper this time.
Chenle’s hand paused at the knot of the towel. Jisung’s arm stayed locked around his waist while the other slid to Chenle’s hip and lifted. His legs wrapped instinctively around Jisung’s waist. Now Jisung had to tilt his head up to keep kissing him.
The water was still running. Chenle reached out blindly and shut it off. They were both thoroughly soaked.
He broke the kiss long enough to breathe, fingers tightening in Jisung’s hair as Jisung carried him out of the shower and into the bedroom. When they parted for air, Chenle brushed a gentle thumb over Jisung’s swollen lower lip. He was panting, chest heaving against Jisung’s. Jisung watched him steadily, saying nothing.
They reached the bed. Jisung lowered him slowly onto the smooth white satin sheets, never breaking eye contact. His gaze lingered first on Chenle’s damp hair fanned across the pillow, then drifted to the necklace still resting against his collarbone.
Jisung settled over him. This time his mouth didn’t seek Chenle’s lips, it found the sensitive skin of his neck instead.
The first kiss there drew a soft sound from Chenle’s throat. He arched instinctively, offering more. Jisung’s kisses grew firmer, then turned to sucking bites. His tongue soothed over each mark he left. When his teeth caught on the metal chain, he tugged lightly in mild irritation before pulling back.
He rose just enough to reach behind Chenle’s neck. Their eyes stayed locked. Chenle’s hands, which had been buried in Jisung’s hair, fell limply to the mattress. A moment later he felt the chain slide free. Jisung tossed the necklace aside; it clattered against the floor, the sharp sound making Chenle flinch.
Then Jisung was back at his throat, sucking harder this time. Chenle’s moan came louder, unrestrained. Jisung lifted his head, breathing heavily, eyes dark and glassy.
One of his hands had already slipped beneath the hem of Chenle’s soaked t-shirt, palm gliding over bare, wet skin. The fabric was so thin it might as well not be there. Chenle pressed his head back into the pillow as Jisung murmured his name.
Then Jisung gripped his waist and guided him upright.
“Chenle,” he rasped. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re so beautiful.”
Chenle obeyed without thought. Jisung’s fingers found the hem of the wet shirt and peeled it upward. Chenle’s arms lifted automatically. The fabric came away and was tossed aside. Jisung never once looked away from him.
Chenle’s mouth hung open, dragging in uneven breaths. Jisung’s bare arm hooked around his throat, gentle but possessive, and eased him back down onto the sheets.
This time Jisung slid lower. Soft kisses dotted Chenle’s chest. Chenle’s breath hitched sharply. Jisung glanced up through heavy lashes, eyes darkened with want, holding Chenle’s gaze as he continued pressing slow, deliberate kisses across his skin. Chenle’s chest rose and fell erratically beneath the attention, every uneven inhale making his body arch just slightly toward Jisung’s mouth.
Chenle murmured his name, “Jisung,” and pulled him tighter against his chest.
The action made Jisung’s hand clamp harder around Chenle’s throat. He latched onto Chenle’s chest, sucking firmly. A long moan tore from Chenle’s lips; his head fell back. Jisung rose above him, eyes dark and glassy, chest heaving.
He drew his hand away from Chenle’s throat. Chenle looked up at him through heavy lids, both of them breathing hard.
“Chenle,” Jisung rasped, leaning toward his mouth, voice thick with need. “Fuck… Stop me. I need you to stop me.”
A shaky breath slipped between Chenle’s lips.
When he gave a gentle push, Jisung closed his eyes and exhaled slowly for several seconds. Just as he started to pull away, Chenle shoved against his chest, hard, sending him flat onto his back. Jisung’s darkened gaze snapped to Chenle’s face, surprise flickering there.
“I don’t want to stop, Jisung.”
Chenle climbed swiftly into his lap, fingers threading behind Jisung’s neck. He captured Jisung’s lips in a hungry kiss. Now it was Chenle who kissed with desperate need. Jisung’s hands joined at Chenle’s hips, pulling him down hard. A loud moan spilled into Jisung’s mouth.
Hearing it, Jisung let out a low groan of his own. Their tongues met again. Chenle began to roll his hips. The rough texture of the towel burned against his entrance. Even through the fabric, the hard length beneath was enough to drive him out of his mind.
He moved faster. When their mouths parted, Jisung gripped Chenle’s hips and guided the rhythm. Chenle ground down in slow circles. Jisung’s head tipped back against the headboard; he muttered something incoherent.
“Fuck, Chenle.”
The words only made Chenle grind harder. He braced his knees on the mattress, lifting and dropping himself again and again. Each time Jisung groaned, Chenle leaned in and attached his mouth to Jisung’s neck.
He sucked the thin skin. Jisung’s grip on his hips tightened, forcing the movements to quicken. Both of them were struggling to keep control now. The most obvious proof was the steadily growing hardness beneath Chenle.
He soothed the bitten spots with his tongue, then pulled away from Jisung’s neck and slid his hips back until he was lying lightly over him. One hand settled on Jisung’s thigh. Jisung’s fingers found Chenle’s hair. Chenle glanced up from beneath his lashes, then bent to kiss Jisung’s bare chest.
First kiss. Jisung’s mouth fell open.
Second kiss, another spot. Jisung’s chest rose and fell sharply; his lips stayed parted.
Third kiss. A faint frown creased Jisung’s brows.
Fourth. A deep, broken “Chenle” rumbled from his throat.
Hearing his name like that made Chenle’s vision blur. Using the hand in his hair for leverage, he buried his face against Jisung’s chest and began to nip at the skin. Jisung arched up into him. Chenle dragged his tongue along the ridges of Jisung’s abs, smiling to himself at the sheer pride of finally living out a scene he had dreamed about countless times.
The firm muscle beneath his tongue begged to be kissed. Beneath him, Jisung was unraveling, moaning softly. Chenle swallowed hard. He lifted his head just enough to look up heavy-lidded. Jisung’s expression was devastating. Raw, reverent, powerful enough to make anyone worship him.
Jisung watched him through damp strands of hair. His chest rose and fell. Mouth open. When his hand drifted toward the towel, he lifted his hips slightly. Chenle ground down again in response. Jisung’s head dropped back against the headboard. Chenle smirked.
Trembling fingers found the edge of the towel. Chenle tugged slowly, unraveling the knot.
Jisung’s eyes never left him. “You sure, Chenle? You really want this?”
“You know what?” Chenle murmured. “Nothing comes close to what I’ve done to you in my dreams.”
Jisung’s grin turned wicked.
His towel finally came free. Chenle tossed it somewhere across the room. Now he was face-to-face with Jisung’s hardness. One of Jisung’s hands returned to Chenle’s hair; his smirk widened.
“So, Chenle… is it at least like your dreams?”
Chenle raised a single brow, shot him a sideways glance. He dragged his tongue once along the tip. Jisung’s fingers tightened sharply in his hair. Chenle took the head into his mouth. The body beneath him tensed. Confidence surged through him; he continued.
It didn’t fit easily. He wrapped both hands around the base and began to suck slowly. The hand in his hair pressed harder, urging him deeper. Chenle hollowed his cheeks. Jisung moaned, loud, unrestrained. Chenle sped up as he heard voices louden.
His hands matched the rhythm. Looking up, he saw Jisung biting his own lip, eyes fixed on him. Jisung’s grip tightened again, pushing Chenle down. “Faster,” he growled, voice rough. “Take it deeper, baby. Show me how much you’ve wanted this cock.”
When it hit the back of his throat, Chenle nearly gagged but kept going. The faster his hands moved, the thicker Jisung felt in his mouth.
Veins pulsed against his tongue. The thought that he was pleasing Jisung like this was enough to push Chenle to the edge all on its own.
He felt the first tremor. Jisung was close. But before he could finish, Jisung tugged him off by the hair. Chenle’s mouth hung open, slick and messy. Jisung slid his thumb across the corner of Chenle’s lip, wiping away the wetness without hesitation.
Chenle panted, saliva pooling in his mouth. Jisung sat up, fingers moving to the button of Chenle’s pants. As he popped it open, he leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to Chenle’s ear.
“Your hair’s the same color as my car,” he whispered.
Chenle bit his lip. He could feel Jisung smiling against his skin.
“And I drive my car really fucking well, Chenle. No one else even gets close.”
Right after the words, one of the fingers that had been roaming Chenle’s hip slipped between his cheeks and pressed inside. Chenle moaned loudly. Jisung immediately covered his mouth with another kiss while his finger began to scissor.
“Don’t,” he started, thrusting gently, “don’t hold back those moans. Let me hear how fucking desperate you are for me.”
A second finger joined the first. Chenle buried his face in Jisung’s neck and moaned. His body shook, chest colliding with Jisung’s.
“I want to hear that pretty voice moaning under me,” Jisung continued,ce dark. “Want everyone to know who’s making you sound like this. Only me.”
The fullness was good, but not enough. Chenle needed more. When the third finger pushed in, he cried out louder.
“You’re going to moan for me,” Jisung whispered against his ear. “No other man will ever make you sound like this.”
Chenle whined, nodding frantically against Jisung’s neck.
Jisung’s fingers moved fast, confident, like he had imagined this exact moment a hundred times. Three fingers thrust in perfect rhythm, then suddenly withdrew. Chenle whined at the emptiness.
Jisung chuckled softly and pressed the lightest, most innocent kiss to Chenle’s sweaty neck. A light kiss. The most gentle touch of the entire night, and the one that made Chenle’s heart stutter hardest.
“Jisung,” Chenle breathed, lifting his head from Jisung’s neck. Jisung looked up at him through dark, damp strands.
“Yes, baby?”
The endearment stole Chenle’s words for a second. Jisung’s eyes stayed locked on his. “Tell me what you need. Tell me so I can give it to you,” he said quietly.
The sight in front of him was too much, too devastating.
“You.”
One brow arched. “Me? But how?”
Chenle scowled. “Fuck, Jisung… yes, you. I need you to fuck me. Just get inside me already!”
The second the words left his mouth, Jisung’s lips crashed against his. He pushed Chenle onto his back and settled over him. Somehow a condom packet had appeared; Jisung tore it open and rolled it on.
One hand wrapped around Chenle’s throat again, possessive. Jisung lined himself up. Chenle swallowed hard when he felt the blunt pressure.
“This necklace looks better, anyway,” Jisung murmmurmured,recked. “Nothing hiding that pretty throat from me now.”
Then he pushed inside in one steady, unrelenting thrust.
Chenle cried out, his voice loud and sharp. Jisung groaned at the same time and stilled, giving him time to adjust. Chenle’s heart hammered wildly.
Jisung scattered tiny kisses across Chenle’s lips to ease the sting.
“Tell me when you’re ready,” he said, his voice strained. Staying still was clearly hurting him too.
After a few seconds, Chenle whispered against his mouth, “Move.”
Jisung began to thrust slowly. Chenle caught Jisung’s lower lip between his own. Their kiss deepened as Jisung’s rhythm picked up. The faster they kissed, the harder Jisung drove into him. Tongues tangled. Jisung slammed in deep. What had started as pain melted into blinding pleasure. Chenle tore his mouth away, threw his head back, and screamed Jisung’s name, louder than anything that night.
Jisung buried his face in Chenle’s neck and angled his thrusts perfectly. Chenle’s vision whited out. He screamed again. Jisung laughed softly against his skin, dark, pleased. “Found it, ha?”
“You’re so good. Yes, right there. Faster! Harder… please...”
Jisung focused on that spot relentlessly. Chenle’s body shook; he slid backward on the satin sheets. Jisung wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him back down. Repeated, precise hits. Chenle felt the coil tightening. “So… fuck… so good,” he gasped. Jisung sped up even more.
Chenle bit his own lip at the pleasure. “Jisung!” he shouted.
Jisung seemed to sense it. He pulled his mouth from Chenle’s neck and locked their eyes together.
“Look at me when you come,” Jisung said. “Let me see that pretty face fall apart.”
On the final thrust, Chenle stared straight into Jisung’s eyes and came with a scream, clenching hard around him. Jisung groaned, gave a few more erratic thrusts, and emptied inside with a full-body shudder.
He collapsed, face buried in Chenle’s neck. Both of them panted. When Jisung finally pulled out, Chenle’s sweaty chest stuck to his own. Without hesitation, Chenle climbed back into his lap.
Jisung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up. “You said you dreamed about this,” he murmured to himself.
Chenle nodded. Jisung held his gaze.
“Then let me make one of my dreams real too.”
The sudden confession made Chenle’s heart skip. “Which one?”
Jisung grinned, grabbed Chenle’s thighs, and yanked him upward until Chenle was straddling his face. “Oh my, wait… Jis-” Chenle started.
The first swipe of Jisung’s tongue against his entrance cut him off. Chenle’s head fell back with a moan. When Jisung pushed his tongue inside, Chenle swallowed hard.
Jisung swirled slowly. The sensation was indescribable. The wet sounds alone were enough to push Chenle toward the edge again. He rocked his hips experimentally and moaned. Jisung gripped his waist and pulled him down harder onto his tongue. Chenle’s hands flew to the headboard. He lifted his hips, let Jisung’s tongue slip out, then sank back down, taking it deeper.
Biting his lip, Chenle repeated the motion. Jisung kept his tongue moving inside. Soon Chenle was grinding shamelessly against Jisung’s mouth.
Jisung licked a long stripe from bottom to top, then pulled back. Chenle slid down again until he was sitting on Jisung’s stomach. When their eyes met, Jisung licked his own lips. “Taste so fucking good, baby. For real, it’s better than what I’ve done to you in my dreams.”
Chenle felt his own words come back around, and the renewed hardness beneath his ass didn’t make things easy either, so he drew in a deep breath.
He shifted lower, lined Jisung up, and sank down slowly, no condom this time. Jisung lifted his hips to help. Hands found Chenle’s waist. They both moaned at the same time. Chenle began to move.
Jisung guided his hips, helping set the pace. Chenle pressed their foreheads together.
“I can ride too, you know,” he whispered.
Jisung let out a soft, amused huff through his nose. “You’re perfect,” he said, and kissed him.
Chenle’s movements grew faster, grinding, bouncing, circling, while they kissed desperately. When he sucked on Jisung’s tongue, Jisung moaned into his mouth. Chenle pushed him flat onto his back. Jisung’s hands never left his waist. Chenle rose until only the tip remained inside, then dropped down hard. Their moans blended together.
Jisung watched without blinking, eyes flicking to Chenle’s hair, then back to his face. He read every expression, guiding Chenle’s hips exactly where he wanted. Between groans, he whispered filthy praises. Curses slipped from his lips. How good, how perfect the boy jumping on him felt. “Fuck, look at you… taking me so well. So tight for me. Ride it like you own it-”
When he started to tremble inside Chenle, his brows furrowed as Jisung ground down faster. Jisung was close. Then Jisung’s hand wrapped around Chenle’s, stroking in perfect time.
Pleasure hit from both sides. “Jisung!” Chenle screamed.
Jisung’s voice was rough. “Come. Come for me.”
Chenle threw his head back, clenching hard around him. “Shit…” Jisung groaned and came again, filling him.
But Chenle hadn’t finished yet. Jisung didn’t stop; his hand sped up.
Seconds later, Chenle spilled over Jisung’s fingers. They both stilled, chests heaving. Chenle lifted himself off and collapsed beside him.
Hair fell across his eyes. He heard Jisung’s voice, low and wrecked.
“Fuck, Chenle. That was better than any dream. You were better than any dream.”
Chenle smiled lazily. “Your race prize,”
Jisung laughed softly. “I’ve been winning races for you. If I’d known this was waiting at the end, I swear I’d have signed up every single day.”
The words made Chenle’s heart race faster. He was planning to ignore the last sentence, so he curled into Jisung’s chest. “I’m sleepy.”
Jisung didn’t argue. He tugged the blanket over both of them, pulling Chenle close. An arm wrapped around his waist. Jisung pressed a kiss to his hair. “Then let’s sleep.”
Chenle’s eyes grew heavy. Silently, he thanked the night for being the best he had ever had. “Good night, Jisung,” he whispered.
“Good night, Chenle. Sweetest dreams for you,” Jisung murmured back.
At the exact same moment, without either of them knowing, the same words slipped from their lips, quiet and secret, as if trying to reach the other.
“I love you.”