Archive of Our Own

The club is boring tonight, to say the least. Firstly, it’s because Chan isn’t drinking with you. Usually, you two are the loudest and most annoying people when your friend group goes out clubbing just because you dance like no one’s watching and do stupid things that make you laugh. In other words, you release all the pent-up stress and don’t act your age, for a change.

Tonight, Chan is not drinking because he’s grabbed a boiling pot with his bare hands, leaving both his palms burned. They’re recovering slowly, but it’s only been ten days and he’s on meds, so he can’t drown his sorrow in alcohol. He’s been snapping at his roommates for the smallest things, and they were surprised he even wanted to join you all tonight. He did join you, but he’s been sitting by the table all night with one fist completely bandaged up and the other only partially, looking around or just staring at his phone.

The second reason why the club is boring is that no one manages to catch your attention, other than Chan. He is a friend, but so are the other guys, who are all very charming and handsome and pretty—but only he makes you feel that way, which is becoming obvious. Because of this, you’re not around him tonight, especially since you’re drinking and he’s not. You both might have a small crush on each other—more serious on your end than on his, you’re sure—but you don’t want to admit to any feelings or anything like that. 

You’re sure you will if he snaps at you while you’re drunk. You’d probably cry, too, and then it’d really be obvious. So, you resort to just standing around the bar and watching him, enjoying the fact that he wore a tank top, which reveals so much of his skin, muscled chest, and sides, the arms that you want to hold onto while he plows into your cu—

“Take a picture while you’re at it.” You’d recognize Minho’s snickering anywhere, so you scoff and shake your head at his petty little comment.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter back and go back to your drink. Is your crush really that obvious?

“Wait, you have a little something here,” he says and leans in, thumb swiping over the side of your chin. “Oh, it’s just the drool from all that staring.”

You swat his hand away and roll your eyes at the comment. “Ha-ha, funny.” It would be funny if it weren’t absolutely tragic.

“Just tell him. The man’s had a shitty couple of weeks, he could do with some good news.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. Minho’s words stay with you, make you drink more, make you stare at the object of your desire longingly, wishing you had the guts to make the first move. But, the fear of rejection is too strong, probably always will be. 

And then, he texts.

You take a while to type your response, not noticing that he’s sent something else in the meantime. You respond with “i’m coming with”, and only then realize the conversation reads:

What is he going to think of this now? You feel like you want to throw up, but then again, it’s kind of funny. Chan will understand. But, he’s the only one who’s not drunk, so he might find it weird.

Minho texts, too.

You go back to the conversation and realize that Chan hadn’t texted you—he’d texted the group chat, which means all your friends can see the thing you sent and made a fool out of yourself.

The rest of them probably haven’t seen your embarrassment yet, but you’re sure they’ll have something stupid to say when they do. And then, Chan responds.

You’re not sure if he’s angry with you or with them, but it doesn’t sound goo. A second later, he texts you outside of the group chat.

And so you find yourself in the back of an Uber with him. He hasn’t said a word about the group chat. All he did was get in the car and stare through the window, chewing on his bottom lip.

“So are you really going home to jerk off?” you ask, chuckling as you remember the embarrassment from earlier. It’s awkward as hell, but it’s better to address it when you’re tipsy than tomorrow when you’re sober.

“I fucking wish,” Chan tells you, lifting both hands to remind you of the current state of his hands.

“Wait—” You gasp, realizing why he’s been so fucking snarky lately, why his fuse seems shorter than usual, why he’s been so off. “You can’t do it on your own?”

“Nope.”

“That explains why you’ve been… weird.”

“Weird?” He looks at you with a frown. “Towards you? I really didn’t mean to. I’m just… frustrated. Can’t do anything with these hands, not even that.”

“Don’t you have a fleshlight or something?”

Chan looks up in embarrassment, chuckling. “No, I don’t.” With that, he looks through the window. “I’ll get these off sooner or later and then I’ll stop being weird, I guess. Sorry if I was rude to you.”

“You weren’t,” you say with a gulp because your mind is taking you places it shouldn’t be taking you, like wondering just how hard his cock would get if you were the first thing to touch him after such a long time… How quickly would he blow? “Do you need a hand?”

“What?” His head snaps in your direction. “What do you mean?”

“With… that?” you ask, sneaking a glance at the boner that’s very visible. 

Chan gets them around you sometimes—when you’re talking about sexual stuff or when you’re sitting on his lap or cuddling—but he usually shoves a hand in his pocket to hide the telltale sign of arousal. He can’t do that tonight and he knows he’s busted—you can tell when he bites down on his lip and chuckles nervously.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “I… I’m like an animal these days.”

An animal? God, that sounds promising.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re serious about this?” Chan looks at you questioningly, a slight frown on his face.

“It’s just a… Handjob, I guess.” You shrug, making it seem more meaningless than it actually is.

When you get to his place, you’re still determined to go through with it and you have alcohol to thank for that. Chan asks you if you’re sure again, and you laugh it off, going towards his bedroom. It’s just a handjob, right? Just that.

So, when he sits on his bed and pulls his shorts and boxers down a bit, you shouldn’t shiver, right? Your mouth shouldn't salivate, and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about taking him in your mouth and gagging on i—

“You really don’t have to,” Chan says again, placing his bandaged hands over his cock, covering it. “I can live for another week, it’s no—”

You grab his hands by the wrists and pull them away. The next second, you’re straddling his knees. It’s not because you want to be close to him, it’s just that the position feels more natural. “Just shut up and let me help you for once,” you hiss the words, alluding to the well-known fact that Chan always has everyone’s back. Maybe it’s time you did something for him, even if it’s as self-indulgent as this.

Chan grunts when you wrap both hands around his cock and start tugging at it. “Do you have any lube?” you ask, knowing it would be wildly inappropriate to wet his cock with your mouth. Even though rushed, the moment is weirdly intimate, or at least that’s what it seems like when your eyes meet and you realize you’re on Chan with his dick in your hands and that he’s trembling under your touch.

“Uhm... Top drawer,” he finally speaks, looking at the nightstand. His voice quivers, which makes you feel a bit better about being so shaken up about getting to finally touch him. His cock is so hard and warm and you can help but think about what it would feel like inside of you.

You get the bottle of lube out, squirt some on your palm, rub both palms together, and get back to what you were doing. This time, Chan moans and closes his eyes, letting his head rest on the wall. “Fuck.”

You’re going fast since it’s what most of your partners preferred. A hard grip, fast movements, a squeeze here and there and they’d shoot quickly—you figure that will work for him too. “Good?” you still check, wanting to hear Chan say it. Selfish, this whole idea of yours.

“Perfect,” he hisses, opening his eyes. “Slow down.”

“Don’t like it fast?” you wonder, slowing down your movements, just as he asked.

“I like it a lot,” Chan explains, looking down at your hands. “Too much.”

“Oh,” you understand what he means when you realize how much precum has dripped out of his cock. That’s when you remember he hasn’t been touched in a while and that he’s probably been aching for release. “Come fast if you want to, I don’t care.”

“It’s— I want to enjoy it some more.” The fact that he bites his lip after saying that makes you whimper, which is embarrassing considering you aren’t being touched in any way. “You okay there?”

“I… Yes.”

“Sure?” he asks, gaining his confidence back. “You look a little flustered.”

“Maybe because your dick is in my hands,” you suggest, scoffing. Since Chan chuckles, you decide to be mean and start moving faster again, which gets him to hiss in mere seconds.

“Please, please, please,” he begs so sweetly that you really don’t want to stop, but you do.

“Why do you not want to come?” Isn’t he snapping at people because he just wanted to orgasm?

“I want to,” Chan stresses, looking at your hands once again. They do look nice around him, you have to admit, especially all wet and slippery. “I need to, but I want… I… Don’t want to make things weird, but I guess they already are. I want to enjoy you touching me for as long as I can.”

It’s not romantic, it’s not any type of admission of feelings or anything of the sort, yet you find yourself smiling and looking away like a fool. A fool in love, but he doesn’t have to know. 

“Chan,” you hum slowly, starting to tug at his cock with both hands, twisting them in the opposite directions. “Come. I’ll touch you again, I promise.”

“I can’t ask for this twice,” he shakes his head, “I can’t.”

“I’m already doing it once, so what’s the difference?” You shrug, knowing very well the more times you do this, the more you’re going to want the man.

“I won’t want you to stop, fuck—” He grunts when you start going fast, face twisting as if he’s in pain, a guttural groan turning you on beyond belief. “Get greedy and all that.”

“Sometimes greedy is good,” you say and grin at him right before starting to move so fast you just know he’ll blow.

“I’ll— I’ll come. Fuck, yeah… You’re so good at this,” he gulps, “I’ll come. Don’t want it to get on you.”

“Can you come all over yourself?” you ask the question before really thinking about what you’re asking. It’s something that turns you on immensely, but definitely not something you tell guys you aren’t even dating. Hell, you haven’t really said it out loud before.

“That’s what you want?” Chan cocks an eyebrow up and gives you a smirk, and you just know he’s about to start teasing, so you start twisting your hands again. “I can, I can.”

So, you push his cock away from you, getting it to point towards him, and continue doing what you’re doing. The louder Chan gets, the louder you get, even though you’re not being touched. 

You can’t stay quiet when the guy you want to fuck is moaning because of you, grunting your name, digging his heels into the bed, twisting and turning under you. He blows without warning, cum shooting out and spraying his black shirt, streaks of white cum staining it instantly, the fabric soaking in the sperm. You keep jerking him off until he gives you everything, until all the cum is out and on his shirt, until Chan’s body relaxes under you and he whimpers. “Fuck, I needed this.”

You wipe your hands on his shirt and then tug at the hem. “Up.” He listens, allowing you to take the shirt off of him. You get up and take it to the bathroom, soaking it in water to get the cum out of it.

When you get back to the room, Chan is still in the same place you left him, head resting on the wall, cock out. He looks tired but blissful, so you walk over to the bed and grin. “You okay?”

He nods at you and looks at his lap. “Come sit.” When you take your earlier position, Chan places his hands on your thighs, but he can’t really touch you—the bandages are in the way. Still, you can feel the warmth of his body, so you shiver.

“Listen, I… Can I return the favor?”

“Re— Return the favor?” You gulp, wondering what he wants to do with you, wondering why you’ve already made up your mind about letting him.

“I can’t finger you, but I can… I have my mouth, still.”

It’s then you notice he’s hard again, and you wonder just how many times he can go in a row. Maybe you’ll find out someday. “You’re serious about that? You don’t have to return anything.”

“I know, I’m just— I want to.”

“Why?”

“Come on, I’m not oblivious,” Chan notes, and you know exactly what he means. “You aren’t either. We’ve already crossed the line, might as well do it in style.”

“Then how about I make you come again?”

“Me?”

You grab his cock again and run your hand over it, sneaking the other one down between your legs, under your skirt, pushing your underwear to the side. That’s when Chan realizes what you mean and looks up at you with adoration on his face. “You want that?”

Instead of responding, you scoot over closer and lift your hips so you can position him at your entrance. When Chan nods at you, you sink all the way onto it and grunt loudly. Fuck, it feels good.

“Fuck me,” he groans, “how can anything feel this good?”

“Right?” you grunt right back, grabbing his shoulders. “You just came and you’re already this fucking hard? What?”

“Can you please take off your shirt and whatever you have under it?”

You do as asked, not realizing Chan would instantly attach his mouth to your tits and start sucking on them one by one. Here and there, his teeth dig into the flesh, making you cry out while you move your hips back and forth and then in circles, trying to find the motion that feels best for both of you. It’s so easy to get lost in it, though, when he sucks on your nipple so sweetly and looks up at you with puppy eyes. 

So, you have no choice but to wrap an arm around him and use the other to tug at his hair while you ride him. “You really like them, huh?” It’s been minutes of him just going at it—licking, sucking, biting, suckling, and he doesn’t seem to want to stop.

“Always stare at them,” he admits, breathless. “Wanted to touch it for a long time. Now I get the chance but can’t.”

You laugh at that, realizing how tough everything must be for him right now. Fuck, the guy can’t even get himself off properly. But, now Chan has you.