Chapter Text
In the middle of the third semester, a day Jongin is excused from class for an appointment with his workshop head, a friend of Jongin’s comes up to Chanyeol after class. Sehun, Chanyeol recalls. Jongin’s roommate and a name that frequents Jongin’s answers when Chanyeol inquires what he’s up to or I have to help Sehun with this, I’ll meet you afterwards. He’s a bright kid but other than that Chanyeol knows him for the amount of days he has missed rather than attended.
“Professor Park, have you got a second?”
“Hi Sehun,” Chanyeol pauses in the midst of opening the exit door. “What do you need?”
“Well I…” he scratches his neck, faint blush in his alabaster cheeks, “Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Sure,” Chanyeol says, understanding that some topics are more sensitive than others, “walk with me.”
As soon as they’re out of the lecture hall and walking along the cloisters, Sehun links their arms. Deja vu washes over him as he comes to an abrupt stop, glancing inquisitively at his student.
“What is this, Sehun?”
Sehun steps forward and picks up the tail of Chanyeol’s tie, twirling it in his finger and glancing at Chanyeol demurely from lowered lashes. He has the most regal features Chanyeol has seen on a person, perfect nose with a prominent bridge, sharp eyebrows that shape his expressions radically, dark almond eyes with lashes as long as extensions and a small rose mouth that’s currently pursed.
“I heard you...you spend quality time with students now and I was wondering when you’re free.” he looks up at Chanyeol coy, despite their height difference being slim.
Chanyeol steps away from him, a sense of sickness washing over him.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Jongin. I can be just as good as him you know. I kinda taught him some of the things he knows.” he makes towards Chanyeol again, smile rakish.
Chanyeol would see the allure if he wasn’t taken by abject revulsion.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Mr. Oh.”
“Really?”
“Do you want to lose credits?”
Sehun’s smile drops. “Jeez, I was just trying to have some fun.” he rolls his eyes but smirks. “Anyway fine. I’ll just go to Jongin since he’s opening it for anyone.” he starts to walk away. Chanyeol grabs his arm, not only disgusted now but clenching his jaw, sending a muscle ticing.
“I’m deducting three credits from you.”
“What? You can’t!” his cheeks colour fast now and it’s certainly not from a show of bashfulness.
It’s Chanyeol turn to start walking away, trying to keep composure and praying that they weren’t overheard.
“I can’t lose that many credits, I need them!” Sehun yells after him.
“Then maybe you should attend class more often. And let me never, never, hear you speak of another student that way, Mr. Oh.”
Chanyeol can’t bring himself to focus on grading or the late seminar he has to give that night. His mind keeps bringing him back to the incident with Sehun. There are too many questions and not enough information but most of all he feels worried for Jongin. What kind of people does he surround himself with? Was Chanyeol mistaken about the kind of relationship between Jongin and Sehun? Are they really friends? What sort of friend would do that to Jongin? Say that about him? . . . What did Sehun mean by he taught Jongin most of what he knows? And, alarmingly, why did Jongin tell anyone about them?
They’re not supposed to be meeting today, with Jongin having to attend a workshop which Sehun ironically happens to be a part of, and Chanyeol having two hours tops before he has to leave for the extra seminar he gives at a college two counties away. But it’s essential that he talks to Jongin, to gain whatever insight he can of this seamy situation.
He sends Jongin a text asking him to come over for dinner and that he’ll get him pardoned.
Jongin arrives just as Chanyeol is taking the lasagne out of the oven.
“Hi Chanyeol.” Jongin slips into a chair at the dining, slumps forward on the table with a deep sigh, bag dumped at the door.
“Tiring day?”
“Uh you can say that again.” He reaches for the half filled glass of wine Chanyeol had been sipping liberally from and takes a deep gulp before wiping his mouth and slumping back on the table.
Chanyeol makes a sympathetic sound and takes the dish to the table. He cuts a large piece out of it and places it on Jongin’s plate. Taking a seat and his own helping, he clears his throat to start speaking. Jongin tears into the food heartily, appreciative moans close behind. Chanyeol is compelled to take a moment to observe, stow the sight away in a fond corner. He will be late if he stalls too much or if their conversation takes longer than he can afford but it won’t hurt to allow Jongin some time to enjoy the meal prior to the inquisition.
“Don’t you have that class in MU Centre?” Jongin asks once he has a sufficient amount of lasagne-restored energy in him.
“Yes.” Chanyeol says, swallowing, “Actually I’m going to be late so we should be quick.”
“Invited me over to kick me out? Fine, I missed you too,” Jongin grins when Chanyeol fixes him with a steady look.
“I was wondering Jongin,” Chanyeol starts, putting his cutlery down. “Have you told anyone about us?”
“Worried Professor?”
Chanyeol’s look turns into a cool stare.
“Alright, let me see. I don’t think my crush on you is a secret. It’s been out in the open for. . . well, since the summer. But I think only my roommate knows about us and I only kept him updated because I didn’t actually think you’d give in. Satisfied Mr. Park?”
“Your roommate, Sehun?”
“Yes, Sehun. Why?”
“Are you friends?”
“What?”
“You and Sehun, are you friends? Are you close?” Chanyeol isn’t sure about telling Jongin what happened without bluntly hurting him or making him suspicious. He’s failing at the latter, from Jongin’s pause and full swivel of his body in Chanyeol’s direction.
“I’m not sure Sehun considers anyone a friend but yeah, he’s alright. Why?”
“Don’t tell anyone else about us, Jongin. I thought you already knew this.” he changes the subject but he still isn’t quite sure how to explain ‘the person you consider a friend propositioned themselves to me’.
“Tell people I’m fucking my professor and have them think that’s why I get good grades actually?” Jongin makes a horrified playful expression and Chanyeol doesn’t find an ounce of amusement in it.
“This isn’t a game, Jongin. Is this a game to you? What, you chased for months, I gave you what you wanted and now it doesn’t matter because you’re bored and you can just be reckless?” he didn’t mean to say so much or so vehemently but once it’s all out Chanyeol realizes that was what had been eating him from within since the incident. He hated to admit to himself, hated it worse to say aloud and see that look on Jongin’s face, the warmth slapped off him, but Chanyeol can’t bring himself to take the words back. He wants the answers. Whatever they may be. Even if he is right.
Jongin’s mouth opens and closes but Chanyeol is not looking at him anymore. He picks up his cutlery and starts eating, to give himself something to do other than allow the emotions curdling at the pit of his stomach to take over, confusion, regret at the outburst, apprehension that there might be a sliver of truth to what he just said.
“Chanyeol—”
“No more telling people about us or the details of our relationship, Jongin.”
“I don’t think—”
“Promise me.”
“But why are—”
“Promise. Me.”
“I promise.”
Jongin is subdued for the rest of the dinner which lasts all of ten minutes. The silence from him is unsettling but Chanyeol decides he has been a little harsh, despite his initial better intentions and Jongin is allowed to brood. Besides, his demand is a reasonable one even if Jongin thinks it’s out of place. A single person having knowledge of their relationship is one too many and putting the ethical questions aside, it will undermine Jongin’s hard work this whole year, his reputation and future. Chanyeol wonders if Jongin understands the scale of what they’re doing.
But the fact that Jongin leaves a nod as his parting affections and seems more exhausted than when he entered stays on Chanyeol’s mind and it toils away on his conscience through his lecture and stays long after he’s gotten into bed despite being worn to the bone himself by the time he gets back.
Chanyeol’s worries dissolve when Jongin visits his office the next morning, locks the door and sits himself in Chanyeol’s lap. Unable to verbalize his gladness to see Jongin and how bad he feels about dinner, Chanyeol resorts to quietly encircling his waist and meeting his radiant face with a smile.
“Morning, daddy,” he greets, wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. He presses kisses to Chanyeol’s cheeks, to his neck. When Chanyeol turns his face to capture Jongin’s lips, Jongin turns his cheek with a giggle. Resigned, Chanyeol sits back and lets the minx in his lap do as he pleases.
“Morning Mr. Kim.”
Jongin pauses, lips on their way to graze over Chanyeol’s ear. “Mr. Kim?” he unwinds his arms from Chanyeol’s neck but keeps his lips close to Chanyeol’s ear. “Where have I seen this dance before? See I was going to get on my knees for Daddy, give him a very warm special good morning with my mouth and swallow for him like a good boy. But that was only because I believed I’m his baby. I guess Mr. Kim should leave and go be someone else’s baby shouldn’t he?”
It is unequivocal that Chanyeol is not a fan of Jongin joking to be someone else’s or finding someone else and not only because it hashes at old wounds. He swiftly rises with Jongin in his lap, shoves the items in front of him to the side and sets Jongin on the cleared space.
It’s been awhile since they’ve been intimate. But underlying the desire to fuck Jongin is a deeper need, an ache to rebrand Jongin, make sure he and anyone else would know he is taken. And normally Chanyeol wouldn’t be too rough outside the safety of his home but Sehun flashes in his mind, I taught him some of the things he knows and the considerable amount of time Jongin spends with him, the fact that they’re roommates and Chanyeol is pulling down Jongin’s pants, two fingers inside his ass before Jongin can utter a word and Chanyeol’s mouth claiming his tongue, biting his lip, biting his throat and locking their fingers when he pushes into him roughly with no more than fingers and spittle for prep.
Ironically Sehun starts showing up for more lectures, his grade hitting critical once Chanyeol cuts the promised credits and Chanyeol can’t help but glower every time he sees him sitting next to Jongin, smiling and whispering to him, acting like he didn’t debase Jongin’s name, his ‘friend’, before Chanyeol.
Perhaps he can finish that conversation with Jongin later when they meet up. The notion of delivering hurtful news to Jongin is not attractive but Sehun being all over him like that is near unbearable for so many reasons.
He gets a call at lunch while heading to a cafe he was joining colleagues at.
“Daddy,” Jongin greets, “come shopping with me.”
“It’s the middle of the day, Jongin. A Tuesday, no less. Why, may I ask, do you want to go shopping?”
“I didn’t know they had laws about shopping. I didn’t know, either, that you also teach Law. Enlighten me, Professor, please.” his voice goes fake breathy at the end and the innuendo makes Chanyeol chuckle faintly.
“You’d like me better if I taught Law?”
“Men of the Law are quite attractive, don’t you think?”
“Really?” Chanyeol says flatly.
“Mm. It’s all about the uniform, actually. Read me my rights as you cuff me. Shove my head into your cop car and your dick inside me all at once. Take without repercussions because you’re the Law. Yeah, I need to find a cop boyfriend.”
“Seems you’ve got it all figured out. Don’t know what you called me for. It’s not like I’m your parent or cop boyfriend, or you need fashion advice from me for that matter.” under oath Chanyeol might admit to getting a little bristly at the thought of Jongin fantasising about anyone who wasn’t him. Underneath that a seed of inspiration for a scene if Jongin ever wanted to roleplay was sown.
“I was going to let you judge which skirts made you want to fuck my ass best, but okay. I’ll call Sehun instead, thanks for—”
“Where are you?” Just like that the irrational spark he’d been trying to bury ignited and every last instinct of his was uneasy.
“Why?” Jongin laughed, “Hate the thought of anyone else seeing how I dress for you?” Jongin was too smart for his own good.
“Just tell me where—”
“Knockeen. Don’t be long.” he sang and Chanyeol laughed because he really was too smart and evidently his doom. He’d been worried he’d have to show up at one of the local shopping centres and be recognized by a former or current student or faculty but Jongin had apparently managed to go all the way to Knockeen, a whole county over and they were relatively safe. He was on the motorway in an unprecedented record for him, stepping on the gas and ringing his colleagues to express his sincerest apology (not).
“Already started?” he asked by greeting, glimpsing the bags hooking on Jongin’s wrists.
“Seeing as the only other option was eating myself into a food coma, yes.” Jongin shot back, seamlessly transferring the load to Chanyeol. Chanyeol would have had no trouble with it if he hadn’t intended to grasp those hips and kiss Jongin as soundly as he’d been thinking about on the too-long way here.
“I’m a little confused,” Chanyeol said as Jongin took off without a backwards glance, leaving Chanyeol to watch his long booted legs, black fishnet thigh highs smug around his mid thighs, a wide expanse of silky golden skin on display up to the point the tight stonewashed denim shorts appear. A gucci belt sits around his stomach, the shorts paired off with a tucked in plain black short sleeve that has the Gucci logo on it. Faced with that enticement, Chanyeol doesn’t know where to focus his stare.
“About?”
“Whether or not you called me here to be your bellboy.” he lengthens his stride and catches up, unwilling to tempt his control by staying behind Jongin a moment longer.
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
Jongin wraps an around his bicep and leans in, “Be my bellboy.”
“Depends.” Chanyeol says, facing straight ahead. They don’t go out in public together much. He rather likes the weight of Jongin against him like this, would fold an arm around his shoulders if his hands were free. The desire to keep Jongin close to his person is dangerous enough in private, he should not be elated by this unrestrained closeness but he is. Loyal to the pattern that has established itself with Jongin, he does not have the heart to push him away.
“On?”
“What I’m getting out of it.”
“What if I said my gratitude?”
“Ah,” Chanyeol says as though taken aback and musters as much apology as he can feign, “I’d say my services are worth a little more than that.”
“You’re right, you handsome fox.” Jongin giggles, “How about a kiss?”
“A kiss.”
“A real hard one. On the cheek.”
“That’s it?”
“Why, sir, see something more fitting?”
“I dunno, but certainly more.”
“‘More’?” Jongin laughs, “What cat’s got your tongue? Yu’ve never been shy to run a filthy mouth before.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Say what you’re thinking.”
Chanyeol considers it. He gives, leans in, speaks in a hush. Says the thoughts circling his mind like hungry vultures.
“That I can’t wait to bend you over in these? That I can’t wait to rip a hole in those shorts and take you exactly like this?”
He expected a bit of flushing, some floundering. What he did not expect was Jongin faltering, whimpering helplessly and holding tighter onto him.
“Chanyeol,”
“Hmm. What’s the matter?”
“Chanyeol. You can’t. Say that!” He bumps the bags out between them and slots himself even closer to Chanyeol, as if one second from grinding up shamelessly on Chanyeol’s legs right here.
“Cat got your tongue?” Chanyeol allows an innocent smile as he peers down.
Jongin burrows into his shoulder, warm cheek rubbing on his Henley, “Let’s just,” he swallows, fragmented, “in here.” He pulls Chanyeol into a small quaint boho store, disengaging from his side and walking faster as if he cannot bear to be such close proximity anymore.
Chanyeol holds his laughter and follows along silently. He awaits like a sentry as Jongin runs his fingers along different racks, testing fabric, pulling out hangers and inspecting the item before trying them on in front of full length mirror built into the walls and columns. He pointedly ignores Chanyeol and Chanyeol makes sure his gaze is loud and corporeal as words. It earns him a few glares or flushing when he’s caught in the midst of undressing, or a faster pace to farther corners but there is only so far Jongin can go; the store is dinky.
“I don’t get it,” he manages to slink up discreetly next to a contemplative Jongin, gray long sleeved crop-top held to his torso before a mirror and folders his arms as he rests against the wall, bags sitting near his feet, “you like when I watch you. You like when my attention is one you.” He hears Jongin’s breath hitch a little, “But you can’t even look me in the eye right now.”
Jongin’s expression flashes then and he quickly scans the store to see if anyone’s looking their way before stepping up to Chanyeol and glaring at him. “That’s because,” he grabs the front of Chanyeol’s shirt and grits out, “I so badly don’t want to be turned on right now but every time I look at your stupid face I remember exactly what you want to do to me.” He shoves Chanyeol back away, “So forgive me if I can’t look at you but it’s your own damn fault.”
He walks away calmly but Chanyeol can see the tenseness in his legs and shoulders and it makes Chanyeol want to guffaw and apologize in kisses. Instead he trails him to the checkout counter, and catches his wrist when he takes out his card. He inserts his to the reader faster than Jongin can stop him and the cashier gives them a weird look as Jongin stands there stammering.
“An apology,” he says when they exit, new bags in tow along with the older ones, “for finding you so sexy. I promise to try to quit it.”
“Who said I want that?”
“Your little tantrum in there said so.”
“Tantrum.” He scoffs, affronted, “I don’t want you to stop finding me sexy. I don’t want you to stop thinking about me. Ever. I want you to think about me so often you see me in your dreams every night. I want you to wake up hard every morning and get off quickly to thoughts of me. Right now I want you to be as uncomfortable as I am, unable to help thinking about when we get home so you can make true your words and fuck me. That’s what I want on your mind, sir. Don’t you dare stop thinking about me.”
With a smile that knows exactly how it’s knocked the wind from Chanyeol, he saunters ahead again and pops into a huge department store.
Jongin wanted them both uncomfortable and he’s achieved it. Chanyeol’s cock stirs too keenly for his liking and thoughts of stealing Jongin to the Gents’ room come on too strong. He raises his left arm so the bags fall across his groin and conceal the monster there.
As if he could stop thinking about Jongin if he tried,.
The store is several floors big and Chanyeol does not catch sight of Jongin at first. Then he sees him grinning from an escalator onto the second floor. He waves as he begins to disappear and a little thrill goes through Chanyeol. Jongin wants a chase and Chanyeol will give it to him.
Jongin’s confidence appears to have grown with the size and business of the store. Nobody pays him a second glance and he takes full advantage of the fact to play with Chanyeol’s sanity before he slips through his fingers like sand. He sashayes and swings his hips, fully aware of how snug those shorts are on his ass, how the globes that fit perfectly in Chanyeol’s palms seem more pronounced. Chanyeol wants to hear the resounding of a smack he delivers, he wants to see them red, wants to feel them full and hot and arched for him.
He bumps into racks and mannequins one too many times for his pride to endure. He almost gives up and goes to sit down outside in one of the benched seating areas inside the shopping centre while Jongin gets on with his business. But then he catches the vixen in question heading to the fitting rooms, shopping baskets brimming.
Relieved, Chanyeol carefully watches out for thick soled boots at the bottom of the stalls. He rapps on the door twice once he finds them, albeit discarded from the looks of it, hopeful he doesn’t have the wrong door. His prayers are answered when Jongin calls out, muffled, just a second.
When the door swings open, Jongin is behind it, shielding himself from view. Curious, Chanyeol steps in.
“Jongin?”
The door is shut behind him and Jongin plasters himself against it for Chanyeol’s viewing.
“I—“ the word gets caught in Chanyeol’s throat. He opts to stay quiet and let the sight before him wash over him. It’s as though he is seeing Jongin, really seeing Jongin, for the first time, like that night he came to Chanyeol’s apartment and Chanyeol unwrapped him like a sweet.
The shorts and top are gone. In their place is a pastel pink skater-skirt and a white lace cami crop top. The skirt falls mid-thigh and the crop top has thin arm straps and shows off everything else. There’s a light pink choker with a heavy steel ring resting on his collarbones and white-ribboned thigh-highs on his legs. The boots are gone and the added height with it. What’s left is a Jongin that Chanyeol towers even higher over, a Jongin whose knees and feet are drawn together in a curated act of shyness, a Jongin whose lashes are long and lips sinful in a purse, whose hands are clasped together at his front.
A Jongin who Chanyeol cannot keep his hands off.
Jongin seems ready for it when Chanyeol grabs him, but he’s not ready for Chanyeol pushing him up against the mirror and flattening himself on his back. He’s not prepared for Chanyeol grabbing his hips and pushing his ass back into the bottom of his crotch nor is he prepared for Chanyeol staring at him in the mirror as he does so.
“This what you wanted?”
Jongin does not reply. Chanyeol moves him back, away from the mirror and a little more upright so he, too, can watch himself and Chanyeol behind him. Chanyeol grips the band of skin that falls just beneath the skirt and caresses slowly, inching up ever so sluggish.
“Didn’t answer me, baby,” Chanyeol whispers, holding Jongin’s eyes in the mirror, “is this what you wanted? For me to feel you up in your skirt and do naughty things to you underneath it?” He tightened his hold but didn’t move any further. Jongin’s thighs squeezed together and the calculating demeanour vanished. There was a sparkle of excitement in the reflection, same as Chanyeol felt. The world outside was so close and their privacy so fickle in this space that anyone too tall or too curious could peer in and see what they were up to.
“I’m not going to ask again,” Chanyeol warns softly, mouth in a thin hard line. “Tell me what you want, or I can leave you to it and wait outside.”
“I want. . .” he trails off, light gasp escaping as Chanyeol ghosts fingertips up the inside of his right thigh before resuming its spot lower.
“Yes,” Chanyeol encourages, face pressed to the side of Jongin’s, crotch resting on the curve of the small of his back.
“Want you to. . .” he shifts a little, arches faintly, “do whatever you want. . .”
“Whatever I want?” Chanyeol drawls and starts to push Jongin’s thighs apart, “You want me to use you how I want, baby?”
“Yes,”
“Because it’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, sympathetic, “So easy to. . .” he circles higher, and higher, prying Jongin’s legs further apart and causing him to buckle slightly in his arm, “do this. . . and. . .” he grazes his teeth on the taut column of the exposed neck at his mouth, brings a wide palm up slowly to the junction between Jongin’s thighs, coarse skin meeting warmed lace panties, “this,” he gives a squeeze.
A sharp gasp falls from Jongin, his legs tremble so hard the vibrations dance on Chanyeol’s skin and his eyes fill with hazy need that turns them demure and sultry. If Chanyeol didn’t already have Jongin right where he wanted, he certainly did now.
“Turn around, baby, show me how you look.” he takes away his hand sooner than Jongin can begin to enjoy its placement and the frustrated lust already pouting Jongin’s face makes him want to forego this teasing and take him as he wants.
Ultimately he lets Jongin turn. Jongin stares up at Chanyeol, braces his pecs, while Chanyeol studies the mirror. The swell of Jongin’s ass lifts the skirt a margin higher and the end brushes the top of his thighs, inciting curiosity and need peek to just a bit higher. He restrains himself, to Jongin’s audible woe, and doesn’t touch where he most wants to. Instead he strokes and fingers the back of Jongin’s thighs, reaches down to the bow of his knees and up again just short of the skirt.
"Beautiful," he says, hushed, and finally reaches up into the skirt. He cups Jongin’s ass, a hint of navy visible at the edge. The hunger inside him is a degree closer to sated as he enjoys the sight of Jongin pressed into his chest, his ass filling his palms, his body on display for his eyes alone and the mutual desire evident from the hard nudge on his thigh.
He kneads and spreads apart and grabs the panties and tugs up and watches Jongin burrow into his chest harder and try to quiet himself. He finds his phone and snaps a few pictures with the skirt askew and Jongin's cheeks bulging tighter as the panties disappearing between them from Chanyeol tugging higher, Jongin trying to contain embarrassed whimpers. Slow and harsh, he drags his blunt nails over new inches exposed of Jongin’s ass and watches faint redness appear on the smooth skin. The supple bounce makes him itch with the need to slap and he compensates it with leaving more marks, more scratches, more evidence of his ownership of them.
"This is how I want you," Chanyeol whispers and Jongin's nails bury into his arms. He lets Jongin push his hips into him and rock two, three times before he pries him off his chest and turns him around again, front to back, straining cock nestled in the crook of Jongin’s back and ass.
He bunches the skirt up around Jongin's hips, revealing his sizable bulge coated in navy lace panties. His faded pink hair is disheveled, crop top rides higher, an already fucked-out look about him.
"Take a picture." Chanyeol commands.
Jongin slides into the front pocket of his linen slacks unsteadily.
"Look at you, letting me do as I please to you." he pets Jongin's cock as Jongin pulls up the camera and points it at the mirror. It sends Jongin buckling, the sensitivity that titillates and haunts Chanyeol's waking dreams making itself known.
"You know what you look like?" Chanyeol says quietly, eyes gleaming as Jongin pauses.
"A whore." he informs Jongin, voice light, despite the implied derision.
"W-whore?" Jongin sounds taken aback, and Chanyeol almost pities him.
"A whore." he confirms, "Just giving away your body in a fitting room, letting me look at you and touch you how I want. It would only be right for anyone to think you're a loose boy if they saw you like this, wouldn't it?" he says almost caringly, snaking a hand into Jongin's hair and taking a harsh grip that makes Jongin grunt in surprise.
"Wouldn't it?" Chanyeol tugs again when Jongin doesn't reply, fingers tense and poised in warning.
"Y-yes." Jongin replies, faint, cheeks red, eyes glassy.
"How unfortunate." Chanyeol tuts in a hush, acutely aware of the increasing amount of people going back and forth outside their door.
"But," swiftly Chanyeol’s expression changes. His grip goes lax in Jongin's hair, in fact he removes them entirely and places a cradling palm atop Jongin’s head and strokes gently. "That's not what you are, is it? You're not a whore."
"I'm not?" Jongin implores and leans into him, arches up into the hand Chanyeol has cupped his cock once again with.
"No," Chanyeol lowers the panties enough for Jongin's cock head to breathe out, the band of the panties pins the rest of the length to his body. "You're daddy's baby doll." Chanyeol rubs the leaking head and the veins in Jongin's throat and temple bulge as he bites down on his lips to contain his moan. "You're daddy's good boy, pleasing daddy, making him happy with your pretty body."
A severe tremor goes right through Jongin, legs convulsing and forcing Chanyeol to steel his arms around his waist as he continues to play with his cockhead and keeps his lips on his ear, one eye kept on the mirror, on Jongin.
"You're just being good for me, aren't you? So lovely under this skirt, if only everyone else could see. How would you like me taking you outside like this? With your little cock out and your tight ass barely concealed, a leash around your neck?"
"Daddy," Jongin pleads and the knowledge that Chanyeol can bring him to his knees with words alone has always been a whipcord of power thrumming along his bones ever since he discovered the fact.
"You'd love it. You'd love everyone knowing you're a filthy boy who lets daddy use him in all kinds of foul ways. Now hold up your skirt. I—”
They freeze as a bang sounds on their door. An apology and the shuffling of feet follow a second later and they let out the breath they'd sucked in as they realize the person had accidentally bumped into it. Catching each other's eyes in the mirror, the let out hushed laughs of relief. When Jongin twists around to press a fleeting kiss to Chanyeol's lips, his stomach flips and he squeezes him just a fraction tighter.
"Do as I said, baby," he whispers huskily, arousal apparently intact.
Jongin pulls up his skirt, exposing his front the way Chanyeol had done and Chanyeol takes his hips. He bends his knees a little, lifting Jongin's ass over his groin so he can push up into it. He noses into Jongin's neck as he grinds on him, one hand splayed on his stomach to help meet his thrusts. Arousal growing, he quickly undoes his belt, takes out his cock. Pulling back Jongin's lace, he buries his cock between the cheeks and sighs briefly in content. Jongin wiggles his hips, tries to gain friction where Chanyeol's cock bumps his balls but Chanyeol holds him still.
"I want you like this," he repeats, mouth on Jongin's nape, eyes rooted to Jongin's, "stay still for me."
And Jongin complies. As Chanyeol spreads his ass and his thighs and starts to fuck the tight junction between his thighs and his balls with little more than spittle he spat into his palm and the wetness from his leaking cock. It's almost impossible at first, so rough and tight and testing Chanyeol's long trained stamina. But he forces Jongin legs apart wider and Jongin arches back into him, one hand gripping the skirt and another clutching Chanyeol's arm for dear life and together they try to keep each other's noises down.
"Daddy," Jongin groans at a particularly hard thrust that grinds on his balls and reaches his cock.
"Shh baby," Chanyeol's flushed, too warm, skin starting to moist with sweat.
"Feels—so—so good,"
"I know. You're so tight. Gonna—kill me,"
"Please daddy, touch—touch me—”
"Be good," he reminds.
Jongin's eyes are crazed with wanton need but he doesn't disobey Chanyeol or try to touch himself. To reward him for his troubles, Chanyeol finds his nipple and tugs at it with a mild pinch. Jongin almost looses all control at his knees and his hands come slamming into the mirror to prevent him from collapsing. It inadvertently leads to him crushing his thighs together and choking Chanyeol's cock between them.
It steals a humiliatingly loud grunt from Chanyeol. His restraint is terribly chaffed and abandon carries him away like an unyielding tide. He grabs Jongin's waist like he does when he's taking him on his knees and starts to earnestly fuck his thighs, skirt shoved up to his back. His vision goes dotted and his head is light with pleasure. But he doesn't miss the picture Jongin makes, how he's the image of lewd disarray.
Hands flat on the mirror, Jongin's bent almost ninety degrees, legs spread to accommodate Chanyeol between them, up against them. His skirt has a permanent lump protruding and his top still rides high from Chanyeol's ministrations, putting his nipples, dusky and peaked, out in the open.
His minimal makeup today consisting of black liner is smudging at the corners of his eyes and smeared a smidgen beneath his eyes. His body is taut and the steel ring clanks like a bell with each shove of Chanyeol's hips so he wraps his fingers around it, choking Jongin a little as he curbs the tinker.
He didn't see a tag on Jongin's panties, he assumes they belong to him. Either way, Chanyeol couldn't stop himself now if he wished. He buries his face in Jongin hair and creams Jongin’s balls and the insides of his thighs with come. They're both moaning quietly as Chanyeol's jerks with the force of his orgasm and Jongin welcomes it hungrily, pushing back, arching into Chanyeol, begging daddy, daddy.
Jongin stays in position even after Chanyeol removes himself from his panties. He's unsteady, and Chanyeol understands he might not trust his own legs. He looks thoroughly fucked when Chanyeol picks him up and settles him on the bench.
They've been in here too long but Chanyeol needs to calm himself. He stands before Jongin and lets out a deep breath as Jongin hugs his legs. His heartbeat steadies to the pace of his fingers carding through Jongin's hair.
"We're definitely getting that skirt." he says, once they pull apart.
Jongin does not seem upset by Chanyeol not letting him finish. It makes him touchier, clinging to Chanyeol's side as if his own feet have permanently given up on him. Chanyeol doesn't mind as much as he should, in fact he does not mind at all.
He has always been a post-coital cuddler, which Jongin caught on quickly and delighted in because he was the same. He would not be alarmed by the cloying need to keep Jongin close right now if that was all it is. There's a new current between them, ebbing and crackling around them, folding them together. A new layer stratifying their bubble. Every time Jongin peers up at him he's tempted to kiss him. Every time Jongin comments on something he wants to pick him up and have him all over again against a wall. This, this here is the insanity that keeps him tethered to this man. The lunatic rush of only needing more as he takes.
He doesn't heed a single one of Jongin's protests as he uses his card to check out everything Jongin places in his basket— but then Jongin doesn't put up much of a fight either and it pleases Chanyeol that Jongin is letting him take care of him this way. It somehow feels like another knot on the thread holding them together, one less wall between where they are and where Chanyeol wants them, as much as his better sense says he shouldn't want it, shouldn't aim for it, that once again he will be left alone in the rubble.
But those thoughts are swiped out of his brain as soon as Jongin opens his mouth, chatters on about his excitement to try on everything, chatters on about his plans and tasks for the week.
"Tomorrow is a nightmare, I don't think I'll have time to pee." Jongin tells Chanyeol as he loads all the bags into the boot and backseat. Chanyeol shuts the doors and straightens.
"Time to pee." he says flatly.
"Not even breathe." Jongin confirms, serious.
"Uh huh. And why's that?" he takes Jongin's shoulders and leads him to the passenger because Jongin seems content to stand there and go on about his scheduling woes till nightfall.
"Because of you, actually." he takes a slurp from his slushie and elicits a sigh from Chanyeol because now he seems content to let Chanyeol physically put him in his seat and buckle him up— which Chanyeol finds himself doing.
"Me?"
"It's like you think we have no life, giving us that essay title." he complains as Chanyeol reaches across him and fastens his belt.
"You're a student, your life is doing essays, actually." Chanyeol returns coolly. “At least, it's supposed to be. What else would you be doing?"
"Sucking your dick." he deadpans so seriously it takes Chanyeol a moment to parse. Exasperated, he shakes his head and closes the door.
"How about this," he starts, once he's in his own seat, "you get to suck my dick if you finish your essay this week."
"No, no, no," Jongin's shaking his head before he even finishes speaking, "see that's what you're not allowed to do! I'd be sucking your dick every single day any other week. You don't get to—”
"But it's not any other week, is it?" Chanyeol counters, an arm stretched across Jongin's seat, neck craned as he reverses out of the spot. "What's that you said? Oh yes. . . you don't even have time to pee."
Strangely, Jongin has no retort for that and it falls uncharacteristically silent.
"Jongin?" he chances a glance at him and finds him staring indecipherably.
"I—” Jongin says, breathless.
"Is something wrong?"
"N— Yes, actually, yes. I want to suck your dick so badly."
"Jongin?" he waits a second or two to see if Jongin will follow it up with a laugh or some expression of amusement but his eyes are wide, pupils dilated and he's fixated so hard on Chanyeol he's half out of his seat and across the gear into Chanyeol's lap.
"Jongin?" he says again, a concerned hand coming to his shoulder and gently nudging him back, "Baby?"
"It's just," Jongin breathes, sinking in his seat, "you're unfairly hot." it comes out as whine and Chanyeol is still conflicted as to whether Jongin is joking or there's something more significant underlying.
"Is there something bothering you?"
"What? No," Jongin looks confused and then gets distracted by something at his feet. He bends down and reappears with a bundle of books Chanyeol had forgotten there.
"McCarthy, huh, Butler, Melville, Woolf, Dante, huh," he calls out their authors, giving Chanyeol an appreciative look after each one.
"Meant to take them to The Last Bookshop, keep forgetting."
"You're giving them away? But why?"
He feels Jongin's hard look. "Already got a copy. They were gifts."
"You give away gifts?" Jongin sounds even more affronted.
"If they're books I already have. Or something others can enjoy after me."
"Oh," Jongin pipes down, "that's very sweet, actually."
"I'd never give away something from you, though, if that's what you're worried about." Chanyeol offers, feeling naked as he does.
"Never, huh?" the tease is already in his voice.
"Well..." Chanyeol says, dragging the word out, "it depends."
"Nope. You're not allowed to take it back. You said, and I quote, "Jongin, I'd make a museum for anything you give me and turn it into my personal shrine" and I won't forget it."
"You won't forget?" Chanyeol laughs.
"It's fine," Jongin smiles, "For the next year I'm going to wear nothing but what you got me today." he confides confidently and Chanyeol's heart soars into his mouth.
"Your washing machine will be busy." he jokes but he's barely holding back from taking Jongin's hand and intertwining their fingers tight. He settles for placing a hand on Jongin's thigh and giving a light squeeze.
"As is its function." Jongin shrugs and turns his attention back to the books. "You know I hated this the first time I read it."
Chanyeol glances over to see him holding up the brand new copy of Inferno.
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Didn't maintain my interest. Started off boring and didn't get interesting enough for me to see it through."
"What changed?"
"Dante came back from the dead to rewrite it."
He cackles when Chanyeol gives him a grim face.
"Me, obviously." he sighs, "I wasn't fourteen anymore, for one. Two, I had a crush on an Italian boy who was all about it and wanted to translate it for me on dates.”
"Oh," Chanyeol couldn't hide his surprise, "you speak Italian?"
"Yes," Jongin rests his hand atop Chanyeol, cheekily shifts it upwards before stopping when Chanyeol wiggles off his fingers, "I lived in Italy for a few years, around the time my sisters' designing careers were taking off and my mams were still trying that romantic thing." Ahead of Chanyeol’s curiosity he explains; "They're divorced now. We traveled lots, and when we were home we moved houses often."
"So you know a bunch of languages that way."
"Yeah. But I don't speak the tongues of all the places we've been equally well. For example, we stayed in Serbia for a month and all I have to show for it is Zdravo, kako si, budala and jebi se."
"And they mean?"
"Nothing to worry yourself over." his smile is dazzling and innocuous and Chanyeol is certain beyond a shadow of doubt that he has just been cursed at.
"Where does your family live now?"
"West coast."
"Only go back for the holidays?"
"And when mam's thespian gene acts up and she decides she can't go this weekend without seeing my face in the flesh. I think she's convinced I'm going to die of malnourishment if she doesn't feed me once every three months."
"Smart woman."
"Hey!" Jongin slaps the hand on his thigh, "Besides I've told her I've got someone who feeds me real food now." he's quieter, his fingers drumming on his thigh unsurely even as he continues to smile.
"You told your parents about us?" Chanyeol once again can't hide that he's taken aback.
"No. But. I can tell them someday. Right?" Jongin's casual composure falls apart and Chanyeol sees his hesitance, bordering dejection, in full.
"Yes, you can, Jongin," he soothes calmly, "but maybe not this year. Not while I've got you in my class."
Jongin takes a minute to reply. "Okay. She wouldn't mind, though. Mam's got her own ideas about society."
"Does she now?" Jongin's fond smile spurs one of his own and Chanyeol decides he could listen to him speak about this woman he loves so dearly for the duration of the ride.
"Want to hear how she and the Matriarch met?"
Chanyeol is bewildered for a moment. "The matriarch?"
"That's what we call Ma, our other mother."
"You'll get what I mean when I tell you about her." Jongin promises and Chanyeol is captivated. There's a hollow feeling inside him, but it's not bad. It's as though a rift is forming in his chest, a chasm to harbour inside him all the intricacies and idiosyncrasies and souvenirs of Jongin's life beyond what involves Chanyeol.
"So how'd they meet?" this time when Jongin intertwines their fingers, Chanyeol doesn't remove them.
"They met at an airport in Milan. They were both browsing a chocolatier while they waited for their flights and they ended up striking up a conversation and realizing they were both chocolate fanatics. They almost missed their planes—which was the same one, fate was being funny that day—and hit it off on the flight too.
“When they arrived at Heathrow, they had to part ways but got each other's emails. Mam was transit a few hours there on her way to Seoul. But fate wasn't done being funny because guess who's Mam's pilot to South Korea?" his voice goes high and he folds himself into an awkward pretzel position, legs folded, body twisted, eyes bubbling, speech and gestures animated, unconsciously playing with Chanayeol's free hand and Chanyeol thinks in an overwhelming rush beautiful.
"You guessed it! It was Ma. At home, Mam was engaged to this rich dude who was an heir. The marriage was important to granpa and she’d been okay with it before because she didn’t have anyone in her life. But when she met Ma? In a week they’d Noped out of there and eloped.”
"That... was quite a tangle of fates." Chanyeol puffs out an amazed laugh.
"Uh huh," he sorts Chanyeol's fingers like an abacus, "so my point is, there's no stopping what's meant to be."
"Hmm. Okay, Oracle of Delphi."
"Hey," Jongin groans and pinches the fingers in his grasp.
Chanyeol humours him with a laugh but in an outpouring of emotion, the newly opened chasm starts to fill and liquidated warmth runs inside him, mercurial and heavy. The unspoken words suspended between them pick up, too, and fit themselves in seamlessly. And the ramparts he's fortified around the messy spool of his fallible self start to vibrate, start to tremble, yearn to sway. Jongin will unravel it and embed himself at the crux of his web if Chanyeol is not careful.
Caution instantly becomes a casualty of enchantment when Jongin cracks open Inferno and starts to read.
"'Halfway along our journey to life's end, I found myself astray in a dark wood, Since the right way was nowhere to be found. How hard a thing it is to express the horror, Of that wild wood, so difficult, so dense!'" his voice is mellow and full and loosens the muscles knotted in Chanyeol's shoulders. His hand begins to move absently up and down Jongin's skin. He would close his eyes and fall asleep to this if he weren't at the wheel, notes that he must get Jongin to do this from the safety of his couch sometime soon.
"’By then it was the first hour of the morning. With the sun rising in the constellation, that came with him when stars we still see burning, were set in motion by divine love first. And so I had good—’" he falters so briefly Chanyeol thinks he's imagined it until Chanyeol hears his voice turn unsteady again a few lines later.
He figures it out when the faltering turns into snatched gasps and he realizes he's wandering between Jongin's thighs, thoughtlessly stroking the soft hot skin. Straightening with slightly devious intentions, Chanyeol controls his face and feigns unawareness. Inch by inch, as Jongin continues to read, Chanyeol creeps higher. He no longer hears the words Jongin speaks but the tenor of his voice, the increasingly obvious shifts in intonation in response to Chanyeol’s not so innocuous ministrations.
"Turn to the twelfth canto." Chanyeol instructs out of the blue.
Jongin falters. "What?"
"The twelfth canto, baby. Read it."
"Okay,"
From his periphery Chanyeol sees how the book shakes as Jongin flicks through it. He can't blame him, Chanyeol's fully cupping his balls. He pretends not to notice either fact.
"’The place we came to, for our journey down, was strewn with rocks; and there was something else, and such as anybody's eyes would shun. Like that land—’ Chanyeol!"
"It says my name in the poem?" he says in all seriousness, as if he had not just knuckled Jongin's cock.
"Daddy," Jongin gives a long-suffering groan and lifts his hips into Chanyeol's palm.
"Here's what's going to happen: you're going to come for me before we reach the city. You're going to take out your little cock. You're going to keep reading. You won't touch yourself until I say so. No matter what I do to you, you will keep reading. Understood?"
"But I'm- I'm so close," Jongin whines and pushes Chanyeol's hand harder on himself.
"Jongin."
The sharp tone makes Jongin gasp but it satisfies Chanyeol how swiftly he removes his hand, despite the trembles going through him that Chanyeol can feel. He’s so good, so eager to please even when he doesn’t want to listen, even when he doesn’t want to obey and the fact alone makes Chanyeol want to tie him to his bed and take him over and over until he cannot humanly manage to do so.
"What was the first thing I told you to do?"
"Take out m-my cock."
"Then do it. Touch yourself once, no more."
He the belt comes off, a zipper lowered. A high cut off whimper follows and it is almost enough to take pity on his boy and please him properly.
"Twenty-eighth canto."
The longer Chanyeol staves off Jongin's orgasm the more devastating it will be for him. The idea of leaving Jongin fucked out without touching him appeals too much for him to not utilize it and by the time Jongin leaves his car, he wants him strung out.
"’Who could describe, even in words set free, from rhyme and metre, all the wounds and blood, I now saw, though he tried to tirelessly? There is no doubt that every tongue would fail—’" Jongin breaks off with a surprised cry.
"Go on." Chanyeol encourages, carefully navigating the sparsely populated motorway with one hand, a tight fist wrapped around the base of Jongin's cock with another.
"I can't— I can't daddy I can't," Jongin pleads and lowers the book but does not thrust into Chanyeol's hand and Chanyeol's feels that swelling again.
"You can, baby, you can. Go on, I know what you need. I need you to trust me."
"I-I do. I do trust you."
"Good." for that Chanyeol gives him a few tight strokes and lets him take a moment to bask in the pleasure before resuming his narration.
Chanyeol knows he can’t drag this out too long. Albeit taking winding country roads for as long as he could before joining the motorway, the city is getting closer and closer and soon they'll be sitting in traffic with prying eyes all around them.
He gives intermittent full strokes, the feat not that demanding since Jongin's barely as long as the width of his palm, even when he's completely hard. He is slick with precum and Chanyeol knows what he is going to do with that but for now he uses it as lube to start jerking Jongin off properly, allowing the long lapses in narration as Jongin writhes, tries not to thrust and composes himself before reading once more. When Chanyeol starts fondling his balls along with stroking him, Jongin breaks down.
"I'm sorry daddy—sorrysorrysorry I can't I fuck daddy I'm going to come- I'm going to—“
"It's alright, baby. Come."
Chanyeol almost has to swerve onto the hard shoulder. Nothing about the previous hour felt like a mistake but it gets challenging to control the car with one hand when Jongin drops the book, catches onto his wrist and cries into his forearm while his hips jerk hard, legs kick out sporadically, momentarily out of control.
He spills over his own thighs, Chanyeol's palm, and on the leather gaiter of the gear stick.
Chanyeol manages to maintain control over the car and Jongin continues to cling to him as he writhes out the vestiges of his orgasm.
"Oh," he groans once he rights himself, "sorry daddy." he leans forward for the glove compartment but Chanyeol intercepts him. Jongin understands immediately what he has to do and grasps Chanyeol's hand with both of his.
It would have been like falling upwards for him to not get hard while riling up Jongin like that but the sudden flood of rapture sends all his blood south as Jongin licks the semen from centre of his palm to his fingers, cleaning every inch before taking his fingers into his mouth and sucking softly, all the while seeming terribly blissful.
"That's enough baby." He has to apply some force to retract his hand, Jongin quite engrossed. "Pass me the wipes, please."
He lets Jongin clean himself first before turning his attention to Chanyeol and the gear stick.
"Still wanting to hear some Dante?" Jongin says asks once he's cleared away their mess.
"I think I've altogether lost the ability to think of Dante straight."
"Straight." Jongin snorts.
"You should keep the copy."
"Oh," he can feel Jongin look at him. "Is that a gift?"
Chanyeol does not hesitate. "Yes."
"Then I guess we shouldn't desecrate it any further."
He sounds happy and it makes Chanyeol smile. The entire day had been easy and fulfilling. He'd come alive and smiled more than he ever would with anyone else and he had Jongin to thank for that. Jongin invigorated him in such new and unique ways, he found himself looking at the man and resting with full certainty that despite the ethics he'd broken, he would never regret this decision.
He is floating on that cloud of content when Jongin asks, "Chanyeol, can you drop me off at the train station in the city centre?"
Puzzled, Chanyeol looks over and offers, "I can take you where you need to go?"
"Em, I need to meet Sehun. He. . . needs help with this thing and he says I need to meet him there."
And just like that, the day darkens. The brat had completely slipped his mind.
"What thing?" he realizes his tone too sharp the minute he says it, his features too hard and he feels Jongin pull away almost tangibly.
"I. . . it's something private. He wouldn't want me telling others about his business. But it's important." Jongin defends his friend, frown in his voice.
"Okay," Chanyeol surrenders, not wanting to push more than he already has. He winces mentally at the 'tell others' because he was under the impression they were not just some 'others' to each other but perhaps he is mistaken. Perhaps it is not his place yet to inquire too much about Jongin’s relationship with Sehun. But sooner or later he will have to mention the incident. The exchange they've just had is not encouraging at all. Whatever this Sehun means to Jongin, Chanyeol knows it won't be easy for him to learn what he said about him, seeing as he cares this much about him.
"I wouldn't leave if it wasn't important," Jongin says after a while, softer.
"Okay." Chanyeol says, toneless. And that's the end of that.
The following day they don't see each other, as Jongin had predicted. But Jongin sends a few texts and pictures from the library and lunch and a very indecent one as Chanyeol is driving to work in the morning. It involves whipped cream for breakfast and very little clothes and Chanyeol tosses his phone into the backseat but he can't escape the image in his mind, nor how his car reeks of leather and sex. He decides that walking everywhere is a better option today.
Their contact sizzles out by evening but they already discussed this so Chanyeol is not too worried. He considers packing lunch for him tomorrow, though, and giving to him at the office, to ensure he's not functioning on whipped cream and god knows what alone. Past midnight, he's getting into bed when his phone lights up. It's an unknown number and Chanyeol almost dismisses it as a task for the morning when a word in the brief notification catches his eye.
From your friend, Jongin.
Besides that sentence, the message contains a single image. A photo of Jongin with his arms slung around Sehun, beer bottles in both their hands and a crowd of mingling people behind them. A party, from the looks of it.
Essays, huh?
Chanyeol does not get much sleep.