Chapter Text
I found everything I wanted and needed in Bang Chan. And it was completely unexpected.
It’s no secret to anyone that I like to have fun. I like sex, but I’m not good with relationships, so I concluded it would be a problem if the only way I could get a dick in my mouth was by dating someone. That’s when I started to take certain liberties. After some no-strings-attached making out at a party, I understood that the setup could work and that it was totally fine if I never saw the guy’s face the next day.
I tried dating apps at first, but the experiences weren’t always great. I might have decided to be freer, but I still had some principles, and I clung to them. I wanted to be pursued, and I wanted to pursue. I needed some throwaway conversation, someone willing to communicate with me. I didn’t want it to be empty, even though many people see one-night stands that way. I was looking for a connection, however small, to feel like it would be exciting.
I’m always telling my friends that I’m an emotional guy, that I like to use my imagination. That's why I need to spend a few hours talking before putting my hands in someone's pants. I get more turned on if I like the way a person thinks, and it triples if I feel understood. It’s dangerous to desire that kind of intimacy when the intention is just to detach, but believe me: it’s so much better to kiss someone I know a little than a complete stranger.
The apps, therefore, were more of a failure than a success, but I don’t regret all the dates I got through them. After seeing no more advantage in it, I tried the “field research” method: I started going to bars, parties, and accepting recommendations from Hyunjin, who had a great knack for finding men. I liked everyone he introduced me to, but I couldn’t always find everything I wanted in one person. There was always some flaw that bothered me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it every time I met up with the guy.
Picky? Maybe. But I was always searching for something that could satisfy me completely. The sex was good, but it wasn’t always great, and I was looking for a partner who could understand exactly what I needed.
It was during a fit of frustration that the best thing in my sex life finally happened.
I hadn’t slept with anyone for months, complaining too much about the options and running from the ones I already knew. I urgently needed a good fuck to relieve some stress, and I didn’t want a half-assed night. I ended up doing something crazy and went to an unfamiliar club—alone. Inside, I met a guy who was really into me. We drank and danced together, but the moment he started grabbing me, I felt it wasn’t the right thing and backed out. I traded a few more kisses with him and then left early, my jacket over my shoulder as I walked home.
It was drizzling. I decided to go into a diner to use the bathroom and eat something salty. That’s when I saw Bang Chan, a friend of my friend, Felix, at one of the tables. He was wearing headphones and typing on the laptop he carried around everywhere as if it were an extension of his own body. His presence there left me flustered and threw me off-kilter; for a moment, I forgot what I had gone into that place to do.
I always thought Bang Chan was hot. Seriously handsome. And he had a way of treating people I didn’t see in anyone else. Felix talked about him like he was an older brother, and I was always surprised by how dedicated and genuinely good the guy was. We didn’t talk much, despite our mutual friend, and I don’t know exactly why. Felix was always saying I’d get along great with Chan, but I never made an effort to get closer. Until that night.
“Can I sit here?” I ask, and Chan startles a bit at my sudden appearance. I don’t judge him; I’d be surprised too. In fact, I’m already astonished by my own boldness.
“Sure… um… have a seat,” he indicates the red upholstered booth in front of him, taking off his headphones and placing them on the table.
He stops typing. I give my order to the waitress and raise an eyebrow at Chan.
“You can keep doing what you’re doing. I just didn’t want to sit alone. I didn’t come to bother you.”
Chan looks at me for a long time. I’d probably feel uncomfortable being checked out like that, but the alcohol in my system makes me indifferent. I even like it.
“Where are you coming from?” he asks.
“A club nearby. Do you come here often?” The question comes out without any malice, just genuine curiosity, but his laugh gives away the ambiguity of the famous pickup line.
“I come when Felix is making too much noise in the kitchen. Or when he’s sick of seeing me in the same position for hours.”
“I’m sure you’re more attractive in other positions,” I retort playfully, and Chan laughs. A good laugh. I decide right then that I like hearing it. “Thanks,” I say to the waitress, who brings my portion of fries. “So? What’s so interesting on that computer that you sit in front of it for hours?”
“A few things.”
“Hmmm,” I murmur, drawing out the sound and shoving several fries into my mouth at once. “Mysterious. A subtle way of telling me it’s none of my business.”
“It’s nothing much. It’s work, so…” He shrugs. “It’s not something I find interesting to share. You’d be bored.”
“And why do you so easily assume what bores me? How can you be so omniscient as to know just how uninteresting I’ll find it? Why don’t you try showing me first, and then I’ll tell you how I felt?” I challenge, having no idea how my mouth is still working so fast and coherently while my head is spinning.
“And what if I’m right?” He looks at me over the screen with that sly look I knew he had but had never been the target of.
“Then I’ll kneel before you and call you a god.”
Emphasis on the kneel. For real, I would kneel for Bang Chan. And I’m drunk enough to admit it out loud, to his face. I’m taking a huge risk using double-meaning words with a guy I’m not even close to, but I’m giving zero fucks about the consequences.
“If you really want to know, I’m working on a data analysis system.” He turns the computer towards me, showing a monitor with numbers segregated by categories and colorful line graphs.
“Wow, what a turn-on,” I say sarcastically.
“I told you.” He smiles, smug. “Are you going to kneel for me now, Han Jisung?”
Fuck.
“And who said I was bored?” I retort, eager for more of this strange, unimaginable dialogue. I pop another fry into my mouth. “That was just my preliminary reaction. I’m not usually an easy catch at first, but don’t give up. I’m dying to see how you’re going to explain all that to me.”
Chan stares at me, and I can guess what he’s thinking: that his night just got a lot more interesting because of the weirdo who sat at his table and interrupted a complex train of thought about data and projections. He must also think I’m an idiot, but what Chan doesn’t know yet is that I’m not. At least not as much as I should be.
“A dashboard on sales from the last few years, huh?” I prod, peeking at the numbers. “Projections to figure out the strategy for the second half? Worried about focus clients? Maybe you should do a deep dive.”
Chan laughs, and I know he gets it. My mocking tone is intentional; anyone in the business world knows that corporate jargon becomes comical behind the scenes, no matter how good it sounds in presentations.
“I didn’t know you were in the field.” He leans in, and I feel victorious. I’ve got all his attention, and now I’m hungry for more.
“Did it turn you on?” I provoke, shoving more fries into my mouth to avoid looking at him too much and revealing how badly I wanted him. “I’m probably getting hard just listening to myself talk.”
“I bet you are.” He clears his throat, but the smile doesn’t disappear. Chan hasn’t stopped smiling since I started talking, and he’s so beautiful when he does it that I don’t even know what to do.
“You can say it, I have a good voice for talking dirty,” I continue, unable to stop myself. That’s the problem with being a cocky bastard. “I know I do.”
“You have a good voice for other things, too,” he says, and I love the way he implies it.
“Like what?” I lean in as well, lowering my chin so he can see me flutter my eyelashes on purpose.
I expect him to say something like “moaning my name,” because I’m sure that’s what crossed his mind. But for some reason, he hesitates. I know he’s not going to answer the way I expect.
“Audiobooks.”
I want to groan in frustration. Chan completely broke the mood, but I refuse to let him take me down. I’m not gonna hit the canvas in the first round.
“Those things where you read a book for people who are too lazy to read?” I ask, feigning ignorance. “I’d kill at that. I’d get a bunch of business students horny for studying. But I’d love to read erotic books, too. Would you buy an audiobook of mine?”
“Definitely,” he answers, categorically. “I’d buy one of each.” He raises two fingers and does something that leaves me speechless: he brings the tips together and then separates them, mimicking a pair of scissors.
Son of a bitch.
I get distracted by the movement. I get lost in the thought that I want something going in and out of me, which leads me back to the purpose of the night. Involuntarily, I let out a choked laugh. I probably didn’t even turn red to lessen the embarrassment, but I’m not worried. In fact, I’m impressed by how much Bang Chan has surprised me in such a short time. I think that’s why I used to avoid him: I was afraid of discovering he was an excellent person on top of being hot. I was afraid of feeling bad about the fact that we’d never go to bed together.
Remembering this fact makes me sober up a little. I lean back in the booth again, resting one foot on the frame under the table while I devour the last of the fries. I lick my fingertips and decide it’s time to go.
“It was a pleasure talking to you, Chan,” I say, after looking out the window, which is covered in raindrops.
“But you’re leaving already? Just when it was getting so interesting,” he says, and I can’t tell how sincere he is. Sometimes it’s just that polite way of seeming moved when someone is about to leave.
I reflect for a second on whether it’s a good idea to stay and keep bothering him with my existence. But my night hadn’t gone as planned, and the guy was working on a business platform before I showed up. He must be feeling sorry for me, all sweaty and with my hair a mess, visibly frustrated. And well… he was Chan, someone I didn’t even talk to, who didn’t seem to share the air with mortals like me. It made no sense for me to stay.
“Yeah, I’m heading out.” I put on my jacket, decided. “My night was already shit. I’m not gonna ruin yours.”
“You’re not ruining my night,” he claims, and his words make me stop in the middle of the diner. “I’ll buy you another order of fries,” he offers, with a genuinely persuasive expression.
Damn it. I can’t resist french fries. And I kind of liked talking to him. Should I stick around a little longer? Better not to push my luck. But this might be my only chance to find out more about the guy I’d always considered masturbation-poster material.
“Just one more order, and then I’m leaving,” I accept.
“Then I’ll have to order a really big one.” He calls the waitress and orders a fucking bucket.
“Do you want my company that badly?” I’d stay for much less, I think, lightly.
“You have no idea.” He pushes his laptop aside, and an uh-oh goes off in my mind. “You were saying your night wasn’t very good.”
“Yeah… I thought I was going to get lucky, but I ended up with a kind of gross guy and decided to call it a night early.”
“That sucks. Are you okay?” He furrows his brows.
“Oh yeah, it’s all good. The guy just wasn’t my type.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and he seems sincere. “You seemed like you needed it,” he continues, but then he smiles, and I know he’s making fun of me.
Funny.
“Unfortunately, I don’t find many who can get the job done,” I retort, turning back to being mean so he doesn’t get the idea that I’m some desperate charity case. “So I end up getting frustrated. Looks like tonight I won’t even get the bare minimum. I’ll have to resort to my good old friend with Parkinson’s.” I gesture in the air with my hands, insinuating.
Chan laughs and so do I, because the suggestion is idiotic and I just came up with that metaphor in my head. Shit. I’m even worse when I’m drunk.
“You’re picturing it in your head right now, aren’t you?” I accuse, pointing my index finger at him.
“Absolutely,” he agrees while looking at me, and has the audacity to rest his chin in his palm. “It sounds adorable.”
“I wouldn’t choose ‘adorable’ to describe how I’d look with an artifact stuck in parts of my body, but I won’t judge your limited repertoire of adjectives.”
“Are you sure you’re just a data analyst, Jisung? You should get into writing. Your talent with words is priceless.”
“I like to talk. Doesn’t mean I like to put it on paper.”
“That’s a shame. And are you planning on doing that tonight?”
“What? Meeting my shaky friend?” I provoke, shaking my hand.
Chan laughs and his eyes disappear. Fuck, that’s so cute.
“Are you curious?” I insist.
The waitress arrives right at that moment, and we both move away from the table so she can place the plastic bucket full of crispy, delicious french fries down. My mouth waters and I rub my hands together before plunging one of them inside.
“You like big things,” Chan says, and it’s my turn to laugh at the dirty comment. “What else are you into?”
“I like things that smell good, shiny things,” I say with my mouth half-full. I hope he doesn’t mind too much; I’m hungry and fries are my weak spot. “I like things that squeeze me and tell me what to do…” my voice lowers to a whisper, and I finish the sentence with a sly smile.
“And do you know how to obey?”
“Sometimes.”
“Have you ever made someone lose their patience?”
“I have, but I’ve never found anyone to punish me properly. What about you? What are you into?”
“Let’s just talk about you for now,” he says, enigmatically, and I sigh. Mysterious types aren’t my favorite, but I’ll forgive him just because he’s Bang Chan.
“Do you like being punished?”
“To be honest, no,” I admit, seriously. “I’m not a fan of pain.”
“Ah, but I’m sure there are other ways to punish someone.”
“Can you think of any?”
“I’ve always thought a great way to educate is, in fact, to only reward good behaviors and ignore the bad ones.”
“But what if it’s good to be bad? What will you do then?”
“You won’t want to be bad with me, Jisung,” he says, and I feel the back of my neck tingle. “You lose more than you gain.”
“It’s not like I’ll ever find out,” I say, my voice weak.
I devour another portion of fries and order a soda to help the food go down.
“I’m all sticky, shit,” I grumble.
I use some napkins to wipe my face and neck. I realize I’m still wearing my jacket and take it off to cool down. The walk and the food break have done a good job of tiring me out, and I slowly lose the will to be away from my bed. I don’t think I’ll even have the energy to jerk off; I’ll probably pass out the instant I lie down.
“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom?” Chan suggests.
“Right. I’m making a fucking mess here, my bad.”
I gather the napkins, throw them in the trash, and cross the nearly empty diner to the back. I use the toilet and, when I go to wash my hands at the sink, I find Chan leaning against the doorframe. His mere presence makes my heart pound, but I control myself, as he just goes into one of the stalls. I wash my face with cold water and feel much better after fixing my hair. Geez. I must have been making Chan laugh with my appearance and not with my jokes.
I should leave the bathroom and go back to the table, but I don’t move. Instead, I wait for Chan, who also washes his hands after he’s done. He turns to me and says nothing. I offer him a smile, thinking about what a turn the night has taken.
“This is the first time we’ve exchanged more than two words,” I observe, almost proud. “I’m flattered.”
I extend my hand in a gesture I always make when I want to brag, and then something surreal happens: Chan takes my hand, pulls me in, and kisses me.
One minute, I’m playing the fool; the next, I feel a soft mouth on mine, slipping between my lips and breathing a warm, minty breath onto me. Chan makes it feel inevitable, and I have no idea how I got this lucky. Fuck. I don’t think I even own clothes nice enough to be kissing Bang Chan.
I kiss him back as soon as I recover from the initial shock. My back hits the wall, and I feel his body press against mine in a way I never could have dreamed of. I bring my hands to his shoulders (holy fucking shit, what shoulders!) and slide my fingers through the short hair at his nape, squeezing it just like I’d wanted to. He kisses my jaw, moves down to my neck, and makes me see little bright dots when he presses his hip against mine. I let out a moan and shove my tongue back into his mouth, wanting to taste more of him.
And fuck, the guy smells so good. He’s definitely my type, and I’m pissed I took so long to hit on him.
I sigh audibly as I feel his tongue invade my mouth in a way that’s far too suggestive. The kiss becomes a mess of breaths and wet sounds. I can get turned on just by listening to us, and I realize I’m not the only one who’s hard.
Reality returns like a cold shock when Chan pulls away. I realize what we’re doing is a problem when the sound of voices approaches the door. A guy says goodbye to someone, enters the bathroom, looks at us both, and says nothing. When he goes into the stall, Chan and I exchange a look before leaving. As soon as we’re outside, I feel his mouth at my ear.
“Want to exchange phone numbers, too?” he asks, and I resist the urge to moan.
Fuck. He left me a wreck with just one fucking kiss. What else can he do to me?
I agree quickly; staying at that diner is no longer an option. We head to my place, since going to the flat he shares with Felix isn’t a good idea. The instant we cross the threshold, I’m pushed against the nearest wall again.
“I can’t stay long,” he says in a whisper.
“It’s okay, we can do it right here. I’m not gonna last long,” I confess.
I’m drunk on alcohol, on pleasure, on that masculine scent that must have cost a fortune. And I come to the conclusion that my night would have been much better if I’d met Chan first instead of some random guy at a club. It would have been a better use of my time.
“That’s a shame. I wanted to test your limits.”
“There are always more chances for that.”
He takes the belt off my pants and I feel his hand rub against my erection through my underwear.
“Yeah… maybe… uhm…” I mumble and lean my head back against the wall. His hand is good, firm, veiny. My God. And now it’s on my dick. “I think I’m a little dizzy.”
It’s not a lie. And it’s for two very different reasons.
“You okay?” he asks in a soft voice, and I feel like screaming.
Who gave him the right to be like this? Now it’s going to be hard to find someone as attentive and hot as he is. Hell.
“I think we should move to the couch,” I say, changing my mind. “It’ll be better to have my knees on the rug when I’m sucking you off.”
I hear Chan mutter a “fuck” and I laugh. Then I let out a real scream when he carries me to the living room. I’m placed on the sofa and barely have time to think before I feel a hot mouth envelop me.
“Ah, shit…” I let out a moan and arch my back.
His mouth is simply unbelievable. Otherworldly. He practically swallows me whole and does it without any hesitation. I find myself wondering how he managed to hide such a talent as I writhe against the cushions, losing my composure as soon as he removes my clothes and dares to slide a finger against my ass. I come hard at the simple threat of penetration and watch, dumbfounded, as Chan simply spits my cum back onto my dick and jerks me off using the fluid.
“Fuck…” I pant. “I can’t believe you did that,” I say, amazed, and I try to stop him because of the sensitivity, but he’s cruel and won’t give up on making me pay for my sins. When I try to grab him again, he moves forward and kisses me, pinning my arms against the sofa.
When it’s my turn to return the favor, I make him sit down and spread his legs for me, my bare knees on the fluffy rug I bought last week. It’s almost like I knew.
He’s beautiful, and I’m impressed by his size. I don’t stand on ceremony and jerk him off until I can hear him groan. Then I take all of him into my mouth and suck him with all the pent-up desire inside me. Is it possible this is all just another one of my erotic dreams? I must have gone straight home from the club, passed out, and now I was delirious, with Bang Chan moaning on my couch and begging for more. It wasn’t possible that he was really here, completely at the mercy of my tongue, right?
Dream or not, I gave it my all. I let him come in my mouth because I figured he was the type of guy who’d like that, but he surprises me once again: he slides his hand over my face to clean me up and, as if that weren’t enough, he licks my chin, my lips, and kisses me deeply, making me sigh for the hundredth time that night.
I don’t even know what to say. I just stay on the couch and wait for the whole fantasy to end with the sound of my alarm clock.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep here,” I feel Chan shake my shoulder.
I open one eye and see he’s dressed again. I feel a pang of sadness. I wanted him to stay naked a little longer.
“Dude, it’s my house. Go home and let me sleep wherever I want.”
Chan isn’t convinced, and that’s maybe something I both hate and admire at the same time. He pulls me up, helps me put on my underwear, and guides me to my room. That’s all I remember.
When I wake up, I’m in the same position, but this time there’s light coming through the window. A bottle of water and a pack of painkillers occupy the pillow beside me.
You’re adorable when you sleep, says the note the son of a bitch took the trouble to write and leave on the table. Beneath the words, a phone number.
I’m quick to add it to my contacts, but I have no idea what to text. Of course he’s waiting for me to talk to him, or he wouldn’t have left the number. So, I don’t play the asshole and, at the very least, do the polite thing.
jisung:
hey
it's jisung
I don’t know what else to say, because I’m sober, hungover, and Chan has gone back to being the guy my friend shares a flat with. I’m not sure if he wants to talk to me. Even though he left a number, the intention is subjective. And I don’t know if I want to keep a dialogue going with him. Because I’m scared of what it could turn into.
Before I can prolong my headache any further, I’m interrupted by the sound of new messages. I open the notification.
chan:
hey
you just woke up?
jisung:
i sense judgment in that tone
chan:
it’s two in the afternoon
jisung:
aw
were you waiting for me since six am?
chan:
i didn’t even get to sleep, can you believe it?
just thinking about you
and about when you’d wake up
I smile, and I don’t even know why.
jisung:
you can stand down from your watch post
i’m back to reality
and i do not recommend it one bit
chan:
try to rest
you had quite a night
jisung:
tell me about it
you wrecked me
The sarcastic tone I hope he’s using puts me at ease. If I imagine Chan is being affectionate, I’ll feel weird as hell.
I stare at the conversation, but I don’t know what else to add. And so that’s that.
◇
After that night, I didn’t talk to Chan again for a good while.
College at night and my office job during the day kept me very busy. I didn’t have the patience to think about relationships, much less with people who had the potential to make me walk a tightrope while I was dealing with incompetent colleagues and the demands of a spineless boss.
What happened with Chan was more than good, but I didn’t know if it would happen again, and I didn’t want to try to figure out the math of it all. Maybe he had been bored that night, and for him, hooking up with me wasn’t even a big deal. He was really hot, and I’d heard Felix mention that he got around, so it probably meant nothing to have been with me.
That's why I don't understand it when he strikes up a conversation with me two weeks later.
chan:
hey
down to repeat that night?
I pinch myself and slap my own face, startling Felix, who’s sitting in front of me.
“What’s wrong?”
I bite my tongue and stop myself from letting the information slip. I can't let Felix know about this, no fucking way.
“A nude,” I answer calmly.
“What?” he hisses, looking around to make sure no one heard us.
“It’s nothing.” I close the app and lock my screen, unable to believe it. “I’ll look at it later with more…” I bring the tips of my fingers together and gesture like an Italian, even puckering my lips to enhance the expression. “Context.”
Felix laughs, and I spare him any more comments. He’s not like Hyunjin, who loves depraved dialogue; he’s more on the romantic side of things and dreams of charming princes. His innocence should be preserved at all costs.
And because I’m a huge ball of anxiety, I reply to Chan just a minute later. Sixty seconds is a good measure of control over my impulses. And because I don’t want to seem desperate, even though I am, I write something that sounds indifferent.
jisung:
eh
could work
I don’t expect to get another message so quickly, so I get all jittery when I see my phone vibrate on the table as soon as I put it down. Felix looks at me, curious, and I force a smile. It’s kind of crazy to be talking to someone who lives with him without him knowing.
chan:
can we meet up today?
I stop. I size up the pile of photocopied books I need to read by Friday.
jisung:
where u at?
chan:
i'm at the gym
but i'll be done here in an hour
The image of Bang Chan working out his arms and thighs floods my mind. I immediately recall what it felt like to have those muscles in my hands. A stupid idea pops into my head.
jisung:
where is it?
chan:
what?
jisung:
the gym
where is it?
chan:
here in the building
there’s a gym for residents
why?
jisung:
can i come over?
My heart speeds up. The idea is idiotic, but I like it and go ahead with it anyway, without fear of refusal. I’m almost certain Chan will laugh and make up an excuse, but I want the chance to make a dirty comment about his body as soon as he gives me the negative.
What comes next leaves me perplexed.
chan:
sure you can
I look at Felix, focused on his books. I open my chat with Hyunjin. I close it as soon as I realize my mistake. I haven’t told him anything about Chan, and I’m sure I’ll be questioned if I ask him to distract Felix for a couple of hours. He’ll get suspicious, and I can’t afford that luxury. He’ll make fun of me and, most importantly, he’ll run his mouth in the group chat about my suspicious behavior.
“What are you doing later?” I ask Felix innocently.
“Going home.”
I open my chat with Chan.
jisung:
is the gym
private?
chan:
yeah lol
it’s a room on the ground floor
not a big deal
mind sharing the plan?
i’m interested
jisung:
i’m kinda in the mood to do something
it might not work
but logistics have never been my strong suit
i just like to think of things
and then hope for the best
so here’s the deal:
i’ll go with felix to your place
i’ll make up that i need something that only he has
and then when i’m leaving
i’ll “get lost”
and find this gym of yours
deal?
Chan’s not going to accept this. Fuck. He’s not that crazy.
chan:
since you’re already heading to my place
you might as well go to my room
there’s a dresser near the window
in the second drawer there’s something for you
jisung:
and why don’t you get it yourself?
chan:
something tells me we both like dangerous situations
so here’s a mission for you
if you want it
“Are you okay?”
Felix is studying me, worried, and I must look like a maniac trying to hold back a laugh at this diabolical proposal. Fuck. I can feel a pang in my gut just imagining what’s in that fucking drawer.
“I am. Do you still have that accounting book? I’m sure I saw a whole topic in it about my subject.”
“Yeah, but it’s at home. Don’t you want me to give it to you tomorrow?”
“No, tomorrow won’t work. Let’s go. I’ll go with you to get the book and I’ll figure out a way to finish this chapter today.”
Felix nods and we head out. When I enter the flat, I get anxious. I still haven’t thought of a reason to go into Chan’s room.
“Here.”
Felix grabs the book from the desk in his room and hands it to me. As we walk back down the hall, I feign an extraordinary interest in the action figures in the target room.
“So cool,” I say to my friend. “I didn’t know he collected these things.”
“Yeah, I keep telling you guys have stuff in common, but you don’t believe me,” he stops at the door. “Just don’t touch anything, please.”
I nod and continue examining the room as if I don’t want anything. The scent in there is incredible and I feel my legs go weak. Chan's cologne has a Pavlovian effect on me, and I feel my dick pulse slightly. Yep. I’m going to have trouble every time I get near this room.
“Come on, Jisung, Chan could get here any minute and I don’t want to explain why you’re in his room.”
I tear my eyes away from the drawer I’m dying to open. I go back into the hallway with Felix and improvise immediately.
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“Go ahead.”
I put my backpack on the couch and wait until my friend goes to the kitchen. I enter Chan’s room and go straight to my target, glancing over my shoulder at every noise. I see the lube and condoms under some t-shirts and hold back the urge to laugh. I grab the items and curse the fact that I left my bag in the living room.
Shit.
There’s no way I can hide these things if Felix sees me. He’s not a dog who doesn’t notice when his owner is hiding a bone behind their back. And there’s no chance I’m fitting this tube inside my tight pants. Yeah, Jisung, sometimes you’re half a genius.
I don’t back down from the challenge. I head to the living room, because if there’s one foolproof formula for getting out of a compromising situation, it’s pretending nothing is wrong. And I’m feeling so sure of myself as I walk with the condoms in my hand that I trip on the rug and drop everything on the floor. Oh, great. The plastic of the lube tube hits the floor directly and makes a noise that’s impossible to ignore. I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbor heard it. I crouch down in a hurry and hear Felix approaching.
“Ji? What did you drop?”
I have no way of grabbing everything with Felix watching. I’d have to perform some absurd maneuver to reach the backpack, and he’s already coming around the counter. I push the damn things under the couch with my foot and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I hope my face doesn’t reveal how flustered I am to get out of there without embarrassing myself further and smile, pointing at the TV remote.
“Dropped this by accident. Sorry. See you later, Lix. Thanks for the book. I’ll give it back tomorrow for sure!”
I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding when I’m alone in the elevator. I grumble, really pissed and frustrated by my bad luck. I open my messaging app and see that Chan sent me a picture. It’s of him, standing in front of a mirror, his hand on his abs under his tank top. I kind of squirm where I stand, because now I’m even angrier about my failure and I seriously consider going back to the flat to get what I left behind.
jisung:
bad news
i couldn’t complete the mission :(
btw
i kinda hid the stuff
under the couch
remember to get it later
or lix might find it
on second thought
i probably shouldn’t have told you lol
chan:
my god jisung
how did you manage to do that?
Instead of replying, I put the phone in my pocket and walk through the lobby, following the map Chan drew for me. I end up at the back of the condominium complex, in front of a white-painted steel door with a small sign showing a man lifting weights. I go inside and notice the gym really isn’t much, but it has more equipment than I’d imagined and no windows. Several mirrors cover the walls, and Chan is hanging from a pair of bars, lifting himself into the air using only the strength of his arms. Fuck. Now that’s what I call a privileged view.
I lock the door, since the key is in the knob, and approach slowly. Chan doesn’t stop his exercise, even when he sees me in the reflection. I watch him from a few steps away, admiring the muscles in his arms contracting as he grimaces with effort. I leave my backpack on the floor and sit on one of the “torture devices,” resting my elbows on my knees.
“Do you mind telling me how you managed the feat of failing the one and only mission I gave you?” Chan asks as he jumps back down to the floor.
He comes toward me and, I don’t know why, but I feel my self-confidence waver. I remember I no longer have the liquid courage of alcohol in my bloodstream. I came to face the monster without a shield or a weapon. Not to mention we hadn’t seen each other in days and had barely kept in touch. Zero interaction. And now here we were, with ulterior motives.
I think Chan is thinking the same thing, because as soon as he lays eyes on me and flashes one of those all-knowing smiles, he says:
“You okay?”
He’s wearing a tank top with the sides cut out way more than necessary, revealing too much skin and making me curious. His skin is sweaty and his face is flushed from the effort. He manages to be even more beautiful the more clearly I see him. It’s so unfair of him.
“Careful or you’ll drool,” he laughs and walks past me, tapping my chin lightly.
Shit. I really am slack-jawed. Salivating over the guy like a dog in front of a rotisserie chicken. And he smells amazing, have I said that already? The scent has permeated the whole room, making me dizzy.
“Do you always work out alone here?” I decide to ask while Chan drinks some water.
“No one comes here at this time.”
Great.
“If I remember correctly, you used to be more talkative,” he teases, crossing his arms over his chest and showing off biceps bigger than my leg.
Hot son of a bitch. How does he expect me to be coherent when he does that? I must have been really wasted to have faced him that night. Holy shit. And now here I am, trying to do the same thing sober, and the only thing I’m managing is to make a fool of myself. I won’t be the least bit surprised if he turns me down.
“It’s just that I’m here contemplating my life decisions and trying to understand how I managed to catch such a big fish,” I say, and I hope it sounded less stupid than it did in my head. I probably stole that line from one of my uncles.
“I think, actually, you just need to warm up,” he says and takes the hand I offer him.
He pulls me to my feet.
“Do you like the gym?”
“No,” I say, making a disgusted face.
“Then why did you come here?” he laughs.
“Oh, I wanted to see where these huge arms came from.” I gather my courage and stroke his arm, feeling the warm skin and murmuring in satisfaction when the muscle contracts under my touch.
I don’t even know why I was shy, to be honest. I’d had the guy’s dick in my mouth two weeks ago.
“You’re not so bad yourself, you know?” He reveals my arm and I flex it on purpose, trying to impress him. It doesn’t really work, since Chan just laughs, but it’s nice because he holds me and presses his thumb into my skin in a gentle way. “How flexible are you?”
“I don’t think very,” I admit.
Seriously, were we going to talk about physical exercise? Not that I wasn’t there to get moving, but not in the way bodybuilders would. I was interested in one very specific type of exercise. One that could be done with your mouth, with your hands.
“How about we do some stretching?”
Ah. Ah. I read between the lines and smile to myself, feeling my face heat up at the insinuation. Chan is on the same page as me, yes, and I feel too slow. I should have been quicker than him. But my pride isn’t easily wounded. I take off my sneakers and follow him to the mat, where he stops in front of me.
“Let’s start with an easy one,” he says, and there’s a determined glint in his eyes. Fuck. This guy is going to fuck me, I’m absolutely sure of it. “You, with your legs straight, standing right there, are going to bend forward and, using me for support, slide your hands down to my feet. Think you can do that without bending your knees? It might be difficult, since you probably like having them on the floor.”
I let out a breathy, sarcastic laugh. Without hesitating, I bend forward at a ninety-degree angle and plant my hands on Chan’s hips, looking up just to make sure he was following me. He was. And there was nothing in the world I liked more than his attention.
I go down slowly, using his legs for support even though I don’t need to, and I feel my calf muscles protest. I wasn’t a fan of exercise, and that explained my rusty body, but I forced myself to go to the gym a few times a week. I’m proud that I can reach his feet with half the effort I thought I’d need and I deliberately return the way I came, sliding my hands up his body. As soon as I’m standing, I swing my arms and lick my lips.
“Again,” Chan commands, and I obey.
This time, I press my fingers harder into his thighs. I find it’s a whole other level of experience when I hear a low, controlled sigh, giving away that I wasn’t the only one enjoying it. The third time, Chan places his hands gently on my waist and I take a deep breath, waiting. He just rubs his thumbs in circles on the skin exposed by my shirt riding up. On my way back up, I leave my face right next to where my mouth had been two weeks ago and smile mischievously, sliding the tip of my nose against the bulge already forming in his pants.
Chan watches me so intensely and with such seriousness that it seems like he’s going to end my fun at any moment.
“Now, that one,” he instructs, and I follow him to an apparatus he calls a ladder barrel.
I get on the inner side and Chan asks me to sit on the curved, padded part. I imagine he’s going to ask me to bend over the fucking barrel, but he does something different: he tells me to rest my feet on one of the wooden rungs of the ladder. Chan occupies the space I leave between my outstretched legs.
“You shouldn’t have come to ‘class’ in such tight jeans,” he clicks his tongue.
“Sorry, professor,” I wink, and I see him smirk.
He holds my knees, and I gladly receive the caress he gives them. I’m forced to move forward a bit when he gently pulls me, and I rest my forearms on the rounded surface.
“Back,” he orders, and I obey, stretching my arms above my head.
He moves my legs, and finally, I wrap them around his body, crossing my ankles. I’m afraid I’ll fall, but Chan is holding me, so I don’t worry. I don’t understand the point of the exercise until I feel an unexpected pressure in my groin. I jolt back and almost lose my balance on the apparatus, drawing a laugh from Chan.
“Easy, beautiful,” he smiles, his head inches from my stomach. “You were doing so well.”
“Fuck,” I pant and lie back again, feeling a pleasant relief in my cracking spine.
“That’s it,” he encourages me when all the blood is rushing to my head. “Come back up slowly this time or you’ll get dizzy.”
I do as he says and, when I sit up, I lean in and steal a kiss from him.
“One,” he counts, not the least bit bothered.
That was probably his intention, to leave his mouth at my complete disposal. He’s crazy if he thinks I wouldn’t kiss him.
“Try to arch as much as you can. I’m holding you, you can relax,” he promises in a low, velvety voice.
It’s easy to trust him when he applies force to my hips and invites me to push them upward. The position is totally suggestive, and I would even laugh at it, but I’m so busy trying that I barely have any breath.
By the third kiss, I’m already pliant. When I prolong the kiss to rest, I’m stopped by a hand that cups my face.
“I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. You can do a few more,” he says and leans over me, pressing his body against mine in a very good way.
His mouth sucks at my neck. I try to keep him close when he pulls away, but it’s useless. I arch my back, panting, and I only manage to sit up again because that mouth is waiting for me.
Bastard. I can’t believe he’s using rewards to make me exercise. He’s sordid, a creature capable of corrupting a saint. But I’m liking it. After the fifth time, he calls it quits and guides me to turn my body.
“Now let’s stretch forward,” he comments, his tone deep and provocative.
His hands land, possessive, on my hips once more. I gasp as I feel him press against my back. There’s an erection right near my ass, and I can feel its outline as soon as I bend over the barrel, stretching my arms as if to reach the floor.
“Very good,” he praises with a hoarse voice, and I feel a sharp pang down low. “Now come back up using only the strength of your legs, no hands.”
I do it, and I understand why immediately: this way, I can perfectly feel his dick grinding against me. It’s so good I have to control myself to keep from writhing. His fingers hold me more firmly and I lean forward, moaning softly as I get harder.
I rest my hips on the leather surface and make a slight movement to find more stimulation. I gasp as I feel even more pressure pushing me against the apparatus. Holy shit. If I hadn’t made the mistake of dropping the lube, I’d have a dick buried inside me right now. I’d have Chan fucking me on top of this stupid barrel.
The thought makes me let out a whimper. I only manage to stand up straight again when Chan steps back a little. My breathing is shallow and I feel my legs tingle in a delicious way. I don’t want this to stop, but I don’t know how much longer I can take it.
“Very good, you did very well…” he says, right next to my nape, his warm breath giving me chills. “How about an arm exercise now?” he asks, as if nothing happened. What a jerk.
I can’t see his face, but I know that innocent tone doesn’t match the expression he must be making. I walk with difficulty to the machine where I saw him earlier and stare at him, incredulous.
“No fucking way am I hanging from that,” I refuse.
“We’ll do this one,” he reassures me and pulls two ends of a rope attached to weights.
He positions himself behind me and I feel his breath on my ear. I’m sweating, burning up, not knowing what to do with the erection demanding attention between my legs. Is he going to take much longer to do something about it?
“You pull like this,” he says, near my neck. “I set it really light for you.”
“Going easy on me?” I ask, surprised.
“You don’t want this to be heavy, trust me,” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I grab the ropes and flex my arms, pulling down as he showed me. And what happens next is unbelievable.
“Ah, fuck, this isn’t going to work,” I complain, as one of his hands slips under my t-shirt. The weights slam down with a clang that echoes through the room when I let go of the ropes.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Or it’ll lose its fun. I know you can do it. You stretched so well for me, Jisung, I know you can do even more with that body. And right now I just want to feel it a little, to know what happens to it when I do some things to you… Look what you do to me…” he breathes out and presses his hip against my back. There’s no ignoring how turned on he is, too. That comforts me and makes my mouth even drier.
I bite my lip and go back to pulling the weight, almost reluctantly. This is why the son of a bitch set it so light. It’s impossible to concentrate when he’s grinding his dick against my pants and sending bold fingers to my nipple.
“Did you plan all of this?” I ask, dazed.
“Exclusively for you,” he guarantees, and I shudder when he traces a line on my tense stomach. “What do you think?”
“Perverse,” I pant and let the weight drop again. The loud noise keeps company with my hammering pulse.
“Just wait until you see the last one.”
I’m relieved by the prospect that the torture will only last a little longer. But I’m also worried. What could he have saved for the end?
He leads me to a thigh machine. I swallow hard and scratch my neck, feeling my legs tremble a little before I’ve even put them to the test.
“How about we see how good you are at spreading your legs?” he says with a sly little smile.
I sit on the hard seat, placing my feet on the designated rests. He leans against the mirror on the wall and watches me from there, urging me to continue with a slight nod.
“Shit, Bang,” I sigh and push my knees against the pads, spreading my thighs and watching the weights lift.
It wasn’t hard, but it was tiring. And that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that Chan just kept staring at me in silence, as if I were the main attraction. Well, I was, but I wasn’t used to being a spectacle for him.
I take a deep breath, do as many as I can, and when my groin is burning, I let out a high-pitched laugh.
“It’s harder to do this when you’ve got a hard-on,” I confess. I hear Chan laugh, showing dimples I would have found cute at any other time.
He comes to my rescue.
“Let’s turn these so you push inward.” He pulls the pads and my legs are left wide open at an embarrassing angle, leaving me breathless. “You okay?”
“Can we just skip to the fun part?” I beg. “I can’t take this.”
He kneels in the space in front of me and I feel my heart race. His hands travel up my thighs and I thank him mentally for the mercy.
“Hands on the bars,” he reprimands when I try to grab his hair.
“Shit.”
I throw my head back and help him pull down my clothes. When I feel his mouth sucking me, I see stars and moan, relieved. His hands cradle my legs and I sigh, impressed by the way I’m forced to keep them open by the machine. When he’s done sucking my soul right out of me, I’m limp and exhausted, my back wet with sweat and my heart pounding in my throat. As a bonus, I get the image of a huge smile framed by red lips. The cherry on top.
On my turn, I make him sit in my place. I put my legs on either side of him and sit heavily on his thick thighs (I doubt my weight did much, and for some reason, that makes me happy). He gives me the smile of someone who likes what’s happening, and I can’t resist anymore. I kiss him and massage his shoulders as I sigh, savoring what his hands are doing as they land near my ass.
If I had this kind of special attention from a personal trainer, who knows, maybe I’d actually commit to the gym. Imagine having a hottie like this to train me and then go down on me? I’d be winning an Oscar, I’d be so ecstatic.
I slide my fingers under his tank top while I trace a path with my tongue along his sweaty neck. When I grab the hem of his shirt, I lift the fabric, lifting and lifting until…
“Bite here,” I stuff the fabric into his mouth, and he clamps down on it with his teeth.
Good boy.
“Don’t let go,” I order, and I feel a shiver when his nails dig into my leg. “Good thing we warmed up.”
First, I map out his chest, because I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. I run my fingers over every ridge of his defined abs, tracing each muscle, and I’m impressed by their hardness. Fuck. The guy really is ripped. I slide my thumbs from his navel to his ribs, watching his chest move as he breathes deeply, discovering the spots that give him goosebumps. I’m not surprised when he gets hard as I reach his nipples. I smile mischievously before taking one into my mouth to suck. He relaxes and tenses as my other hand travels a path up and down his body, threatening more and more to go down to his hard dick.
I kiss his hot, sweaty skin, breathing in the scent that makes me dizzy. Being like this with him gets me turned on again. I wanted to spend the next few hours just biting his stomach, but I want something else, too. I put that desire aside to pull his dick out and begin a slow, torturous masturbation. Something tells me Chan will like this.
“Hands on the bars, baby,” I whisper next to his ear, using the same phrase he used with me.
I miss the pressure of his hands on my thighs, but it’s worth it to see the veins pop as he grips the bars. He breathes heavily and I make no move to change my rhythm, stroking up and down very slowly. The precum comes, and I stop what I’m doing, hearing a protest that makes me laugh.
“What’s wrong?” I blink softly.
I keep my hand still while the other caresses his arm up to his shoulder. Chan shifts his body, and I wait to see if he’ll lose his patience, but he just arches his back. That’s good. Very good. I go back to gripping him firmly and jerk him off fast before slowing down again. You can see how much it’s driving him crazy; he’s grunting and soaking his tank top with saliva. I repeat the process, but instead of stopping, I just slide my thumb to the base and back. His self-control is wavering. I cup the back of his neck with one hand and finally put an end to his torture, jerking him off quickly until I see him come.
I pull my hand away to watch his dick spurt cum, but my contemplation is interrupted by a pair of hands grabbing my shirt. Chan spits out his tank top and replaces it with my mouth. Of course I give him what he wants, kissing him with the same urgency and shuddering when he squeezes me with those sculpted arms.
“Fuck, Jisung,” he says, breathless, and I smile as I lick his lip.
I feel all dopey with the way he’s dazed. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek until I reach his earlobe to bite it gently. I place one more little kiss on his jaw and pull away delicately, getting off of him.
It’s a shame that’s all I could do for him. I’ve heard my riding is sensational.
We clean ourselves up and find a way to hide the evidence on the gym equipment, but there’s not much to be done about the smell of sex, cologne, and sweat.
When I have my backpack on my shoulder, Chan stops me.
“We should… talk about this sometime.”
I can’t read his expression, but he said it casually, so I don’t assume anything. It could be that he’s trying to tell me none of this is serious, to prevent whatever he thinks I might be imagining.
“Okay, send me a message and we’ll see.”