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The soft buzz of his phone on his nightstand is enough to shake Jisung from the hold of sleep. His room is dark, television long since fallen into rest mode. Jisung rubs at his eyes, and rolls onto one elbow to reach for his phone, his cool sheets falling from his naked collarbone to settle around his ribcage.
He’s grinning before he even looks. There’s only one person whose call would get through Jisung’s phone’s sleep settings. The picture of Chan is perfect: button down shirt hanging loose to reveal one shoulder, eyes hidden behind the brim of his hat, smiling so warmly that Jisung can feel the heat of it every time he looks.
Jisung swipes the bottom of his screen to answer the call and then presses the speakerphone as he flops back down onto his pillow. When he speaks, he doesn’t try to clear any of the sleep from his throat. “Hi, daddy.”
Chan clears his throat, just a small, quiet shift that he chases with a swallow. Jisung bites down on his smile, placing the phone on his sternum so he can splay his arms wide in his big, empty bed. “Hi, baby,” Chan says, and his voice is always so sweet, light and sugary like candy floss when he talks to Jisung — his baby, his.
“S’everything okay?” Jisung asks, sifting his fingers through his hair to push his bangs away from his face. “S’late,” he says, as if it matters.
“Yeah,” Chan breathes, and then grunts, rustling on the other end of the line. Jisung pictures him sitting up against his headboard, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. He can see it in his mind clearly, the way the light would cut across his face, emphasize his nose, the curve of his lips, the sharp line of his jaw. “‘Course, baby. Just— Just wanted to hear your voice is all.”
Jisung hums, happiness leaking from his brain to his limbs. “Well, you’ve got me,” he says, letting his smile ring loudly in his words. Chan’s breathy laugh follows, and Jisung imagines it puffing against his face, his mouth close enough to kiss.
Jisung absently touches his collarbone, his restless fingers whispering against his skin in aimless patterns as Chan speaks. “It was a long day today,” Chan starts, and Jisung shuts his eyes to listen. His voice is soothing, pretty and warm in all the right ways. It suits him, Jisung thinks. His voice wraps around him the same way Chan’s arms do when he holds him close. Even better when he whispers in Jisung’s ear and kisses at his throat.
Through the speaker of Jisung’s phone, Chan's voice is grittier than usual, but Jisung imagines him beside him anyway, pretends it’s Chan’s hand that’s trailing over his chest, thumbing at his nipple and squeezing at his pec. Chan always worships his body with his hands, praises every inch of him with his lips and tongue.
Jisung’s cock kicks, fattening up, and he kicks his sheets away to watch as he hardens until he’s straining against his underwear. They’re short and tight, the kind Chan likes to see him in, but made of a soft, forgiving material that’s easy against his cock.
Chan chatters on as Jisung slides his hand over his abdomen, fingers scratching through his little happy trail before pushing at the band of his underwear. His hips kick up just enough to slide the band under the curve of his ass, let his cock free so he can see it fill out. Chan says, “How was your day, baby?” and Jisung hums as his dick twitches and he curls his fingers around his shaft.
“Was good,” he says absently. “They let me clock out early because we were overstaffed, so I got to work on some music before bed.”
“Ooh,” Chan says, his excitement making pride bloom in Jisung’s chest, mixing with the flush of heat flaring from his cock to his belly. “You’ll have to show me.”
“Soon?” Jisung asks, not hiding any of his eagerness, letting himself sound just as breathy and pitiful as he feels. He strokes his cock slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines it’s Chan’s hand instead, his calloused fingertips toying at the ridge of his cock, thumbing over his slit where a drop of moisture collects. Chan is always so careful with how he touches Jisung, so intentional. Chan’s fingers have taught Jisung things about his body he never knew before.
“Tomorrow, hopefully. If you’re around?” Chan says, and Jisung pictures his big, shiny eyes and his tentative smile. His fingers pinch at his nipple and he has to bit down on his lips. Chan says it like a question, as if Jisung would ever tell him no.
Chan’s partner must have left town again. Jisung doesn’t remember what job it is that keeps them apart for such lengths of time, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, Jisung is thankful for it, hopes that it will only continue to be such a successful career that it eats away at Chan’s relationship until it fades away into nothingness.
“Of course, daddy,” Jisung says, smiling so wide his cheeks ache. “I’ve missed you so much.” He scratches at his own collarbone, fingers tracing the dip of his own throat as he digs his head back into his pillow. He wonders briefly if Chan can hear his hands moving, if he’s choosing to pretend he can’t, or if Jisung is subtle enough to fly under his radar entirely.
Jisung thumbs at his lower lip, wishing he could feel the plush cushion of Chan’s mouth against his. He kisses him so tenderly, his tongue is so sweet when he claims Jisung’s mouth. Jisung wants to open himself up and offer each piece of him to Chan one by one until he has him all, cradled safely in his hands, or housed warmly in his ribcage, nestled right up against his most precious organs.
“Have you missed me too, daddy?” Jisung says, letting his pout bleed into his words.
“Of course I have, Jisungie,” Chan says, swallowing hard over the line. “I miss you all the time,” he adds, softer, like it’s a precious secret. And it is. Jisung is Chan’s most precious secret of all.
“How much?” Jisung teases. “Do you think of me when it’s been a while? More than just a call to hear my voice?” He bites at his lip, twisting his palm over the wet head of his cock. “Do you think about having me? Holding me? Touching me?”
Chan lets out a harsh breath, and Jisung breathes it in and then holds it, waiting for Chan’s response. “Yeah,” he says, strained. “Every day, baby.”
“What did you think about?” Jisung asks. “Tell me.”
There’s a pause, and the next time Chan shifts, it’s louder, and Jisung knows he’s set his phone to speaker as well. Jisung pictures him sinking lower in his bed, shifting his legs apart to make room for the ghost of Jisung.
“Kissing you,” Chan says, bashful. His big softie. “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”
“Yeah?” Jisung giggles. “Kiss me where?”
“All over,” Chan says, laughing with him. “Your lips first, and then your cheeks, your neck… when you wrap your arms around me and tilt your head back… You always give yourself to me, let me hold you tight.”
“I like it when you kiss my neck. Sometimes I can feel my heart beat go faster when you dig your teeth in just right,” Jisung says, digging his nails into the sensitive flesh of his own throat in a sad mockery of Chan’s teeth. “What else did you think of? Did you imagine me touching you?” Jisung asks, desperation mounting as he lifts his hips to fuck into the grip of his fist.
Chan grunts, and then breathes out shakily. “Yeah,” he says. “Your mouth— I pictured you…” Chan trails off, and Jisung strains his ears, searching for the sound of the bottle of lube in the background.
“Pictured me what? Don’t be shy, daddy, I want to know,” Jisung encourages, stroking faster. “Did you picture me on my knees for you?”
“Yeah,” Chan says. “Thought about how well you take me, how you let me fuck into your throat— fuck, pictured the way you look up at me when you go down on me.” He moans, and then Jisung hears the wet sound of his hand on his cock.
Jisung echoes Chan’s groan with one of his own. Chan likes it wet, Jisung knows. He loves when Jisung drools on him, when his mouth is dripping wet, goopy from retching and gagging. He’d come so fast the one time Jisung had half-puked on his cock. He’d made a mess of Jisung’s face, and Jisung hadn’t been able to contain his dopey grin. When they fuck, Chan makes Jisung into a sloppy, wet mess before he slides inside, lube spilling out to make room for his cum to settle deep into his hole.
“Love it when you fuck my throat, daddy. I’ve missed it so much the past couple weeks. Will you come on my face tomorrow?” he asks, and Chan is so loud on the other end of the phone, unashamed to feel good as Jisung’s words pick at him.
“Yeah, baby, I will. I promise,” he gasps. Jisung knows just how much Chan likes to come on his face, even more so than coming inside his fucked out hole. He loves getting to see Jisung’s dazed face covered in him.
“Thank you,” Jisung hums, beating his fist over his shaft even faster, chasing the high that’s coiling tight in his lower belly. “I want you to feel good, daddy— But after,” Jisung grunts, “After— will you fuck me? Been thinking about it— your cock, how it feels inside. I fuck myself, but it’s not the same. My hole misses you, daddy, I need you—”
“Jisung—” Chan groans, and Jisung pictures him in his mind, thinks of how his brow furrows when he gets close, how his jaw clenches tight, his muscles straining as he tries to hold himself back so he can fuck Jisung longer, to make him feel good first, because Chan is a giver.
Jisung is a taker. He takes everything Chan gives, and still he wants more. He wants it all, wants Chan’s very soul, wants to pull it from his chest and sew it into his own heart, peel away the layers of Chan’s mind he keeps hidden so Jisung can see into all the darkest corners and shed light on them.
“Tell me how you’re going to fuck me,” Jisung demands, free hand toying with his chest again. It’s what Chan would do, he knows. Chan loves to please him all over, leave no part of him untouched. Chan never lets Jisung want for more. He fucks Jisung so well that Jisung is sure that no one has ever been fucked better, never been more cared for. Least of all Chan’s partner. With how Chan expends his energy on Jisung, he’s sure there’s not enough left over for anyone else.
Jisung can hear the way Chan’s pace around his shaft quickens, and Jisung hopes he’s getting close. He wants Chan to come hard and fast, completely helpless against the way Jisung makes him feel. “I want to fuck you slow,” Chan grunts. “But I— I won’t be able to. Not at first.” Jisung eyes flutter as he thinks of Chan kissing him in the doorway when he comes to pick him up. Jisung will drag him in by his neck and they won’t make it far. Jisung wants his back to bruise from Chan fucking him up against the front door. “I need you, baby, I won’t be able to hold back.”
“You’ll say sorry,” Jisung cuts in. “Because you’re sweet on me,” Jisung moans and laughs through his words, and Chan echoes him — airy and free.
“I will,” Chan agrees. “But I’ll make you come first. I— I want you to come untouched, just from my cock. You can do that, right baby?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says. “I’ll be good for you.”
“I know you will, Jisung. You’re always so good for me. Mmnh— you’re being so good right now,” Chan says, groaning. “And I’ll make it worth the wait, yeah? I’ll fuck you nice and slow after, take my time with you—”
Jisung feels his hole clench around nothing — dry and pathetic and wanting. In a few hours, he thinks. The sun will rise in a few hours, and when he wakes, Chan will come get him, and they’ll spend the day just the two of them.
“I’m gonna come— Chan—” Jisung says, unwilling to wait any longer. The fire of his need is too strong, too overwhelming for him to keep going. Jisung has never been good at denying himself, and Chan is his perfect enabler. “I’m coming, daddy— fuck, please—”
“Yeah, come, baby,” Chan strains, panting heavily as Jisung comes, moaning nice and loud for Chan to hear. His cock twitches in his hand, ropes of cum spurting high up on his belly to pool in the dips of his skin. He keeps jerking his fingers loosely at the tip until he whines, wringing himself dry.
“Come on my face, daddy, come on. I want it,” Jisung says, voice raw as he drags his hand through his mess and then smears it across his face. He wishes it was Chan’s, longs for the feeling of being claimed by him, letting his essence soak into his pores and sink into the roof of his mouth.
“Ah, fuck, Jisung— so good, it’s so good, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so well tomorrow. Gonna— gonna make you feel good, keep you in bed all day— fuck you and kiss you and hold you and—”
“Yeah, I can’t wait. I’ll be so good for you, daddy, you know I will,” Jisung says, licking cum off the corner of his mouth. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. It’s not Chan. “I’ll take it all, swallow you down and hold you tight. And when you’re exhausted from fucking me, I’ll ride you gently, just how you like it, with your arms wrapped around me so I can kiss you stupid.”
Chan’s next moan is punched out of his chest, stuttery and beautiful. Jisung can see him so clearly in his mind: his fists clenching and his eyes rolling back as he comes. He always gives himself so fully to his pleasure, rides it out so well. It’s the one moment where he focuses on himself, clinging to his high as long as he can before refocusing his world around Jisung.
“Feel good, baby?” Chan asks as soon as he comes down, still breathing heavily.
Jisung relaxes even more into his soft mattress, too big for just him. “I do. I always do with you, Chan,” he says quietly. The sky is lighter than before, and Jisung wonders how long it will take for the sun to curl over the edge of the horizon. It can’t be too long now. Jisung hopes he’ll be able to stifle his anticipation to fall back asleep. Maybe if Chan stays on the line to lull him to sleep with idle chatter.
They sit in silence for a moment, just breathing together. Jisung can hear Chan puttering around on the other end, likely cleaning up. Jisung himself is content to lay in his mess a little longer.
Eventually, Jisung breaks the quiet. “Chan?” He gets a soft hum in response, all the encouragement he needs to continue. “When will you leave?” he asks. Jisung ignores the sound of vulnerability in his voice, instead focusing on his own breath as he waits.
Chan doesn’t ask for clarification. He knows what Jisung means. “Soon, baby,” he says, as always. “I promise.”
Jisung believes him, as always. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Because—
“I love you, daddy,” Jisung says, coy as his mouth curls back into a satiated smile.
“I love you, too, baby.”