Archive of Our Own

Gentle smoke billows out of the pout of Minho’s lips. He exhales slowly, closes his eyes as he feels it in his lungs, scratching the itch under his skin.

Not that he feels bad. He feels good—tremendously good. He’s still a little breathless from his orgasm, limbs aching deliciously, and he can still feel the warmth from Chan’s body, right next to him. He’s still lying down, eyes blissfully closed, stretching out his arms as Minho sits against the headboard, cigarette hanging between his fingers.

When he glances over, he catches Chan grabbing his phone, unlocking the device. His wallpaper is a candid photo of a woman smiling brightly at the camera. She’s beautiful. She’s definitely Chan’s girlfriend.

“Your place,” Chan had insisted with a whisper pressed against Minho’s ear, not even two hours ago, and that was telling enough. He already had kissed him twice by that point, hands roaming Minho’s body and sliding into his black hair.

Minho, too, had already seen the beautiful, blonde woman smiling from Chan’s phone by then. It doesn’t surprise him, really, that a man like him was taken—from the little he’s gathered from him, Chan is adorably charming, with his dimpled smile and quick wit. He’s got a sweet glint to his eye, and it contrasts so beautifully with the sinful curve of his lips and the lines of his body.

He’d felt heavenly under Minho, too—eyes glazed over, tears sliding down his skin and catching at his hairline, short dirty blonde hair mussed against Minho’s sheets. Minho fucked him hard and deep, and wondered vaguely what his girlfriend would think, seeing her boyfriend like this. Debauched, at the mercy of Minho’s hands, moaning at the touch and crying for his cock.

There are photos on Chan’s phone, taken by Minho himself, to testify. He doesn’t know what pushed him to do it, reaching over for it on the nightstand and angling the camera towards him. Chan moaned, the loudest yet, when he’d caught on—Chan was so loud, Minho thought—while Minho snapped a zoomed-in picture of Chan parted lips, the firm lines of his strained muscles, the view of Minho entering him, hips snatched against the plush of his ass, one of his hands around his thigh, silver ring glinting under the light.

Minho wonders if Chan deleted the pictures. If he wants to, if he will, at all. He wonders what would happen, if Chan’s girlfriend stumbled upon them.

Chan’s yawn turns into a hum next to him, and Minho is brought back to this, now: his bed, dirty sheets, the cigarette still burning at the tip of his fingers. Chan, blinking up a smile at him. So unbearably sweet, so hauntingly charming.

Minho smiles back, small but there. “Who’re you texting?”

He asks the question on purpose.

Chan, for his credit, barely reacts. His eyebrows only raise faintly, before he turns back to his phone, messages open. “Oh. Um. My girlfriend.”

Right. Minho was not expecting the truth so readily offered, but then again, maybe it’s Chan’s way of implying he doesn’t what this one night to stretch further than that. Minho’s okay with that anyway.

“Is that her on your wallpaper?”

“Hm, yeah.” Chan turns off his phone, turns it back on, angles the screen so Minho can see clearly. She’s truly stunning, blonde hair half-tied up while the rest of her soft locks fall down against the white of her sundress, freckles dotting her smiling cheeks, pretty, wide eyes fixed right behind the camera. “She’s amazing.”

“Really?” Minho scoffs, and it’s not mean, but it kind of is, honestly. He tries to soften the blow, but there’s no way to truly avoid the topic nor the slight derision, not when Chan approaches it with almost too much eagerness. “Does she know you’re here?”

“No,” Chan says around a hum. Like he’s just—mentioning something off about the weather, or his thoughts on what he’s having for breakfast. “She doesn’t.”

“Right.”

“Her name’s Felix. She’s lovely.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just, she can’t… she doesn’t—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Minho interrupts with a sigh. He’s honest. He truly does not care, really. Felix is gorgeous, Chan is beautiful, they surely look amazing together. Chan is in Minho’s bed, texting his girlfriend, and Felix must know, too.

“Okay.” He hears the sheets rustle against Chan’s skin as he moves. He feels the soft press of his mouth against his thigh, kissing almost too tender for what they’ve done, what they are.

Minho stretches out his leg, brings back his cigarette to his mouth. He takes a drag, closes his eyes as Chan starts kissing up his thigh, making his way slowly to his hip, teeth grazing his skin. There’s a hand that snakes up his other leg, inches towards his inner thigh.

“Chan,” Minho exhales, and Chan only answers with a soft sound at the back of his throat, fingers digging in the muscle at the sound of his name.

When he feels the drag of Chan’s tongue against his skin, narrowly close to his groin, Minho swears around a groan. His free hand falls into the short strands of Chan’s hair, blunt nails scratching at his scalp. He drinks in the small whimper that falls out of Chan’s mouth and into his skin.

Minho wonders what kind of sounds Chan makes when he fucks Felix. Is he as whiny? Does he cry then, too? It’s a little hard to believe. Maybe—maybe Chan transforms, when he’s with her. At the back of his mind, just before the haze of lust takes over his thoughts, Minho thinks he’d like to see it, one day.

“What would Felix say, hm?” Minho allows himself later, voice heavy with want, Chan’s mouth around him. Chan has his arms circling Minho’s thighs, pushing them up as he sucks him off greedily. “If she saw you like this?”

Chan moans around him, like the idea appeals to him—the sound vibrates around Minho’s cock, and Minho exhales sharply.

“Watching you be so good for me,” he sighs, hips pressing up into Chan’s mouth. “God, what would she think?”

It almost sounds like Chan is sobbing at Minho’s words, overtaken with arousal. It only spurs him on, and so Minho keeps going, keeps talking, and Chan keeps slipping, further and further away until he’s so close his eyes almost roll back at the sound of Minho’s voice.

“Do you want her to see you like this, baby?” Minho says, voice gentle, his hand still in Chan’s hair. Chan makes a pitiful sound, and Minho moans. He’s so close himself, teetering on the edge. “You do, don’t you?”

Chan closes his eyes, and there are tears at the corner of his eyelids, sliding down his cheeks. Fuck.

“Bet you’d want her to see me fuck you too, just like earlier—”

Chan moans around his cock, swallows, and it’s all too much, too good, all at once—Minho comes down Chan’s throat with a loud groan, fingers tightening around Chan’s hair.

Distantly, he feels Chan moan again around him, before pulling off, catching a sob. There’s something warm against Minho’s leg, and it takes a few minutes for Minho to register that it’s Chan’s release, just from Minho’s cock in his mouth and his words toying with his thoughts.

When Minho gets up to clean them up, Chan is catching his breath, his back pressed to the bed. “You’re insane for that, you know?”

“What?” Minho’s hands are gentle but quick as they work against Chan’s skin, then his own.

“What you said. Everything that you said, just what I…” Chan doesn’t finish. He swallows, and starts again. “I’d—I didn’t think you’d catch on.”

Catch on what? Minho wants to ask. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care to know what exactly lead Chan to his bed, what exactly ties him in such an untethered fashion to a girlfriend he’s clearly cheating on.

So Minho simply shrugs, and gently taps Chan’s thigh, twice. “Call me a quick learner. Come on, now. Get out of my bed, or she’ll start worrying.”

The smile Chan gives him is devastatingly adorable, something between shy and playful. Like the idea entices him, like he enjoys Minho playing into whatever it is he’s seeking, sleeping around like this. But Minho doesn’t miss the slight edge to his gaze, too, not exactly guilty, but a little guarded, as he scans the room for his clothes.

What an interesting turn.

Chan leaves just before two in the morning, but not without leaving his number in Minho’s phone. Does Chan expect Minho to call him again? He won’t. He doesn’t feel like getting involved between a couple he knows nothing about, no matter how wonderful the sex was, with Chan. He still doesn’t stop him, though. It’d be rude.

“I had fun,” Chan says at the door, dimple in his cheek, looking up at Minho through his lashes, even though they’re just about the same height.

“Me too,” Minho smirks. “Drive safe, Chan-ah.”

He relishes in the way Chan’s ears turn bright red at the name. He smiles fully when Chan scoffs shyly and punches his shoulder with little force. He doesn’t think of anything when, not even a moment later, Chan leans in and leaves a chaste peck on Minho’s lips, like they’ve done this thousands of times before, like they’ll keep doing that again, and again.

Minho wonders if Felix will be up, waiting for Chan, when he comes home.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Chan doesn’t really leave the picture. Not exactly.

To Minho’s credit, he did not reach out—it was all Chan. Of course it was. Minho did not—he was not looking to get involved. It was fun once, playing with Chan and his obvious cheating kink, but he never intended to make it a habit.

A good fuck is a good fuck, and that’s that. Minho can move on, he’s a big boy. If Chan happened to be particularly good, well. No one can blame Minho for thinking of him, from time to time. But Chan isn’t single and it’s fine, it really is fine, Minho does not care.

But Chan texted, and who is Minho to ignore him?

channie ᵕ̈

hi minho! i hope you’re having a good day hahaha

my friends and i will be going out tonight…

you’ve heard of the vault, right? downtown?

anyway, if you’re free tonight, i’ll be there :)

Minho raises an eyebrow at his phone. He still has an hour to his shift left, and these spreadsheets won’t be done in an hour if he fucks around, entertaining the thought of—never mind.

minho

that’s lovely, channie

have fun!

channie ᵕ̈

aw, you can’t come? :(

felix won’t be around, she’s busy with work

she works so hard, my lixie :’(

minho

i have a job too, you know. prob gonna have to do overtime tn

have fun, chan-ah~

channie ᵕ̈

okayyyy hahahaha

thank you minho, i’ll miss you <3

Minho shakes his head around a smile, tucks his phone away, screen down to the table.

Hours later, when he’s home, he receives a set of pictures from Chan. It starts inconspicuous, at first; scenes at the club, his dimpled smile against the backdrop of darkness and the low lights dancing across his features. There’s a few with his friends, one in which he has his arm around one of his friends, with round cheeks and gentle, wide eyes, grinning widely at the camera. Another with a man slightly shorter, built and strong with hooded eyes and a small smile.

And then—and then Minho’s gut swoops, and his blood rushes south.

Chan’s hand on his lap, sat at a leather booth, his fingers itching dangerously close to his groin.  Minho swipes. Another where the zip of his jeans is undone, and his hand is shoved in between the denim and the fabric of his underwear. Minho swipes. Another, almost startlingly identical, save for Chan’s thumb tucked right under the hem of his underwear, revealing the smallest stretch of skin.

When Minho exhales, his breath shakes.

channie ᵕ̈

oh my bad hahahha

i meant to send these to lix

He doesn’t reply. Minho doesn’t reply, because he doesn’t—he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, doesn’t think about Chan taking these with Minho in mind, doesn’t think about Chan texting him with a knowing smirk and his jeans undone at the nightclub. He doesn’t think either about Chan taking these for Felix, doesn’t think about him making that honest mistake, playing it off cool because he trusts Minho not to shame him.

He certainly does not think about whether Felix received these, what she’d do—if she’d think about Chan being with someone else, or if she’d play the oblivious girlfriend part, and play along. Or maybe she’d be pleased, and she’d ask for more, and they’re just like that, the two of them. Maybe she truly does not know what Chan gets up to when he goes out. Minho doesn’t know, doesn’t care to.

His phone pings with another message. Another set of photos.

Minho swallows, and opens the message. He recognizes the content instantly.

It’s his pictures—the pictures he took with Chan’s phone, that night. Chan’s mouth slick with spit, parted around a moan; his biceps straining as he clutches the pillow behind him, Minho’s cock disappearing inside him. Minho’s ring, pressed against Chan’s thigh where he’s holding him.

channie ᵕ̈

look what i found! omg

when did you take these, minho-yah?

As if Chan didn’t know—as if Chan didn’t shudder under Minho’s gaze, eyes fixed on the phone angled straight at where they were joined, where Minho was fucking into him—

channie ᵕ̈

what if felix sees?

That night, he fucks his fist in bed, grip tight around his cock. He tries not to think of Chan’s tear-streaked cheeks, or Chan’s hand on his own cock, or Felix’s name spilling out of Chan’s mouth when Minho fucks into him, shame and arousal twisting at the bottom of his gut.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Minho supposes it was only a matter of time before they’d see each other again.

He wouldn’t say Chan was clingy, but he sure did not stop texting Minho. He didn’t make a habit of sending lewd pictures, or voice messages—though it did happen once—but Chan would often check in, flirt a little. Ask about Minho’s day, and eventually, about Minho’s cats. And Minho would play along; ask about Chan’s day, about Felix. What they were up to. Chan’s replies were cheeky, but honest. Dripping with adoration for his girlfriend.

Minho plays along, because Chan was fun to talk to. He wasn’t actually clingy, not really; just adorably eager, and Minho couldn’t help but reply, ask his own questions, like one would reciprocate affection to an excited puppy or an impressionable child.

And so it’s a little funny, that they meet by accident.

A Friday night in the central side of town, a place Hyunjin usually drags him to rather than Minho seeking out. It’s nice—warm lights, good music, more a place where people sit and chat with a drink than get up and dance with other sweaty bodies. Hyunjin loves the place, has loved it ever since they agreed to showcase some of her paintings full-time, after a social event she’d hosted there for work. Minho doesn’t mind it, they place nice jazz and soul and he enjoys the quiet.

“Quit staring at your phone,” Hyunjin says from where she’s stopped walking to his left. When he glances at her, the corners of her pretty mouth are turned down with her slight frown. Her makeup is sultry around her eyes, dark under the streetlights just above them.

“I’m not staring at my phone.” He really wasn’t. He was just—just checking if he had any notifications unread. Just in case.

Hyunjin’s frown deepens. “You’ve been at it since we left your place, oppa. Who are you texting like that anyway?”

“No one.” He holds up the door for her when they reach the bar.

“Bullshit.” She tilts her head, narrows her eyes. “Are you seeing someone?”

Minho snorts. What a ridiculous thought. “‘Course not. I’m not even on my phone that much, you’re exaggerating.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m not. Come on in, darling.”

Hyunjin rolls her eyes, flips her hair over her shoulder when she walks past him. It’s back to black after a short time being brown, and it falls delicately down her spine in sleek waves. She’s so beautiful, especially in the small black dress she chose to wear tonight. Sometimes Minho thinks it’s a shame Hyunjin’s not into men—he could be so good to her, he knows. “Whatever. Just put your phone away, oppa. I’m not here to—oh my God!”

Minho startles, looks up from the curve of Hyunjin’s backside to her face. She’s grinning widely, waving at someone at the back of the bar. “Do you know someone here?”

“Yes! Oh my God, it’s been ages since I’ve seen Lix. You’ll love her, Minho-oppa, she’s so sweet—oh, I think her boyfriend’s here, too.”

Lix? There’s no way. It’s not a common name and it’s awfully specific and there’s just something in the air that whispers at Minho that yes, that’s right, that’s right, but—no. There’s just no way.

But when he follows Hyunjin’s gaze, he sees a blonde, petite woman tucked in the corner of a booth, waving back. Her eyes are wide, staring back at the pair of them, and her smile is familiar. There are freckles scattered across her cheeks, Minho knows, even though he can’t see them in the distance.

Felix’s smile is radiant as they approach her table. She’s clad in a pink, shimmering dress, and there’s an elegant, white fur collar falling off her shoulders. Probably on purpose, too; it shows off her pale skin nicely, the jut of her collarbones on display. A thin necklace falls against her chest, and there’s a warm hand at her nape.

Chan’s hand.

When Minho catches his gaze, his eyes widen just a touch, before it’s immediately masked by an easy, pleasant smile. Dimples make an appearance, and he’s the suddenly the picture-perfect, loving and dotting boyfriend Minho imagines him to be, when he allows himself to. The collar of his dress shirt is unbuttoned, revealed just a sliver of that firm chest Minho has spent nights trying to forget—

“Felix! God, it’s so good to see you,” Hyunjin exclaims once they’re close enough, leaning down to hug Felix close. “You look so well!”

“You too, Hyunjinnie, it’s so nice to see you,” Felix replies, and she’s smiling against Hyunjin’s neck.

Her voice is so warm. Minho didn’t expect that—he’d imagined a shrill tone, something slightly annoying, but Felix’s voice is full and completely entrancing. Chan must love to hear her talk.

“This is Minho-oppa, we’ve known each other since high school,” Hyunjin introduces when she straightens, motioning towards Minho. “Minho, this is Felix, one of my friends from college. We danced together. And this is Chan, her boyfriend.”

“Hey, Minho,” Chan says simply, raising his glass—something amber-coloured and near empty—towards him with a warm smile.

“Hi, Chan,” replies Minho, before he swallows, and turns to Felix with a smile of his own. “Hey, Felix. It’s nice to meet you—both.”

He settles down after Hyunjin on the other side of the booth. Like this, Felix sits right across him, and Minho tries not to let his eyes wander towards Chan too often. Yet, he still feels the heat of Chan’s gaze on him, tracing his features, wondering probably, just like him, what were the odds of them meeting like this.

Felix turns to him with a bright smile. Her freckles are so cute. Her eyes seem to sparkle under the warm lamps above their table. “Hyunjin used to talk about you sometimes, in college. I’m glad we got to meet.”

“I only told her the good stuff, don’t worry,” Hyunjin quips from next to him.

Minho rolls his eyes, raises a hand to tug at his earring, just a little nervous. He licks his lips before he answers, and catches Chan staring. “Jinnie and I barely spoke when she was in college. I enrolled for my masters abroad right when she started freshman year,” Minho explains.

What he doesn’t say: I’ve never heard Hyunjin talk about you. I don’t really care that you are friends. I can’t believe you are friends. Do you know I’ve fucked your boyfriend? Do you know he sends me pictures he says he means to send you?

“That’s right,” Hyunjin sighs. She reaches over to pinch his side, and Minho huffs a chuckle. “He left me all alone to fend for myself in the big city. Didn’t even care what happened to his Hyunjinnie, hm?”

“You were already more than capable to fend for yourself, Jinnie,” Minho says. “You and I both know that.”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, but her smirk is playful, and Minho winks at her.

“You guys grew up together?” Chan asks, and Minho finally allows himself to stare back, properly.

There’s a slight edge to his gaze, but Minho doesn’t mind it. He wonders if Felix can tell something’s off. He stares back, offers Chan a smile. Polite and personable.

“Yeah, we did. Same hometown, same circle of friends. But we really only started to talk once Hyunjin came out, around the time she started dating my sister,” Minho explains.

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “Her name’s Jeongin.”

Chan nods like he cares. Like he’s happy to learn more about Minho, about his sister, about his life. Like he doesn’t have his girlfriend tucked against him, his hand on her neck, fingers playing mindlessly with her hair.

Minho hates him a little. He didn’t want any of this. Didn’t want to be the boyfriend’s mistress, or any sort of dirty little secret. Chan’s life is his and Minho’s is Minho’s. Sure, they have incredible chemistry and Minho can’t stop thinking about Chan crying for his cock but it doesn’t matter, it can’t matter, because Chan is positively in love with his girlfriend, even though he’s cheating on her. Whatever.

Minho wants him desperately, still.

The conversation steers away from Minho and onto Hyunjin—who is still dating Jeongin, though Minho thinks it’s only a matter of time before his sister proposes—and he takes the chance to glance back at Felix, at the corner of his eye.

She’s staring.

Her eyes are dark, calculating, fixed not on his face but on his left hand. There’s a tight pressure around her pretty pink lips, and a small furrow between her brows. When Minho flexes his hand tentatively, she doesn’t budge.

Then, it clicks.

Her eyes are on his ring. The same ring that appears in the pictures Minho took, where the cold silver presses against the skin of Chan’s inner thigh.

Felix has seen the pictures.

She has seen Minho, has seen his cock fuck Chan in his bed, and she recognized the ring. She’s staring at it, with her boyfriend to her right and the man he’s cheated with facing her.

Minho’s heart stutters, not out of fear but something worse.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks,” he says, calm injected in his voice even though he feels nothing but.

Hyunjin brightens, rattles off her order. When he turns to ask Felix for hers, she only shakes her head, staring at the spot on the table where his left hand was just a moment ago.

“I’ll come with,” says Chan, and isn’t that the worst thing he could’ve done? Felix turns sharply to stare at him, and Chan only smiles, reassuring. “I’ll grab you another one of these, yeah? And some water, too.”

It takes a second, but Felix nods, and she smiles. Minho can tell even with her back facing him, just by the curve of her cheeks alone. He wonders what that says about him.

“Okay, yeah. Be back soon, yeah?”

“Of course, baby.” Chan drops a kiss on Felix’s forehead, and steps out of the booth to fall into step with Minho.

They stay silent until they reach the bar, and that’s when Chan’s mask falls off his face. Minho watches as the lines of his face harden slightly, but he still seems open enough to crowd Minho against the counter—nothing intimate or inappropriate, just the kind of proximity that could pass off as friendly, if it wasn’t them.

“You were right,” Minho starts. He waves at the bartender to catch her attention. “Your girlfriend’s lovely.”

“She is,” Chan easily agrees. His eyes don’t stop looking at Minho’s face, stopping at his eyes, the slant of his lips, the line of his nose. “Funny seeing you here, though. Didn’t think I’d ever catch the two of you together at the same place, to be honest.”

Minho turns to him with a quirked eyebrow. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” with a shake of his head. It’s honest and surprisingly gentle. “Why would I want that?”

Minho doesn’t answer. He gives his order and Hyunjin’s to the bartender when she comes to attend to the pair of them, sits back when Chan does the same. When she steps away to prepare their drinks, he clears his throat.

“Do you think she knows?”

“She doesn’t,” Chan replies immediately. He leans in to make sure he catches Minho’s eyes before he speaks again. “She doesn’t. I promise. She doesn’t know a thing. She loves me.”

“She does, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Chan smiles. He looks—for fuck’s sake, he’s smitten. How is that even possible? When Minho still has the phantom of his touch haunting his thoughts? “She does. I love her, too. She’s amazing.”

“You make quite the pair,” Minho settles on saying.

“Hm.”

They settle into a stilted silence, Chan turning his back to the counter, his gaze sweeping the bar. It’s not exactly awkward, but it’s far from comfortable, and there’s an itch under Minho’s skin he can’t quite scratch. He misses his cigarettes, forgotten with his jacket at the table, with Hyunjin.

“Later,” Chan starts, “I’ll get up. Felix will have had a few drinks in her, and Hyunjin will be there to take care of her, yeah? They’re such good friends.”

“What?”

“I’ll get up,” Chan turns to Minho before he continues, “and I’ll go to the bathroom. And a few minutes later, you’ll get up and join me, Minho-yah.”

Something thrilling goes down Minho’s spine—a shudder, yes, but something else, something like adrenaline, excitement, desire. It’s a little heavier now, though. Now that he’s met Felix, he knows the sound of her voice, the way she fits against Chan’s side, the way she welcomes his kiss.

He doesn’t want to care. He was never meant to.

“Who says I’ll do that?”

“You will,” Chan only replies. His smile is small but certain, and Minho definitely hates him.

When they reach the table back with everyone’s drink, the tension is gone from Felix’s gaze. She smiles at him warmly, and strikes up conversation with him easily. She laughs at all the right times and she’s truly a delight to be with. Chan is one lucky man.

Minho wonders, though, still. What Felix thinks of him. She probably figured that Minho took the pictures, right? The angle is unmistakable. It had to be him. It was him.

But maybe she thinks Minho didn’t know. Maybe she thinks Minho is just as much of a victim as she is in this story. Maybe, right now, while she’s giggling at Minho’s jokes, she’s cursing her boyfriend in her thoughts. She’s planning to leave him. She’ll corner him once they leave the bathroom later—because as much as he hates Chan, he hates himself more for wanting him and giving in—and will break up with him right then and there.

Or maybe she’ll just—pretend not to notice. Pretend not to know. Her hands are still reaching for Chan’s, after all; still playing with his fingers. She still turns to him, every few minutes, just to glance his way or offer him a smile. Chan basks in the attention, showers her back with his affection.

They’re sickeningly sweet to watch. Minho hates them.

Chan was right. Felix is a little drunk, clinging onto Hyunjin where she moved to sit next to her after a few drinks. She barely blinks when Chan gets up to go to the bathroom. She only watches with glossy eyes when Minho stands up to do the same.

The moment the door closes behind Minho, Chan is onto him.

They kiss with fervour, like they’re on borrowed time—and they are, after all. Felix is waiting at the table, so is Hyunjin, and this single stall bathroom won’t stay undisturbed for long.

But it’s the thought of Felix that ignites the desperation in Minho’s hands, that pushes him to press himself against Chan’s body, that allows him to grope at the muscles and bite at Chan’s lips like he can’t get enough.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Chan murmurs between two kisses, diving back in to lick into Minho’s mouth. Minho sighs under his lips. “Haven’t stopped thinking about—about your cock, about your voice, God, Minho, your voice.”

“Felix has a nice voice,” he can’t help but say, and watches with wonder as Chan shudders against him. He buries one hand in Chan’s hair, the other settling at his hip. “It’s mellow. Warm. I love it.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Chan says. “Baby, you should hear her when she begs.”

And—fuck, this is not supposed to happen. Minho is not supposed to let his knees buckle at the words, he should not throw his head back at the thought of Felix begging for him, for his fingers, anything, her eyebrows pinched and her voice pitching higher, please—

“Do you make her beg often?” he asks anyway. Chan is kissing his neck, pressing Minho against the wall, and Minho is so hard in his pants at the thought of Felix begging for Chan—for him, too—that he’s getting dizzy with it.

“I do. She loves it.”

“So do you,” Minho reminds him. He feels Chan smile against his skin.

“I do, yeah. For you, Minho, I love to.”

Desperate fingers latch onto his belt, and Minho goes to help Chan undo their pants. They can’t do much, here, but this will have to do—Chan’s hand around him, his own palm pressing at the bulge in Chan’s underwear.

“Wish you’d fuck me right here,” Chan pants into his mouth. “Wish you’d—you’d make me beg for it, and everyone would hear, Lix would hear—fuck.”

His hand moves almost erratically, like he wants Minho to get off as fast as possible. Minho doesn’t need that, because just the picture Chan is painting with his words is enough to make him lose his mind.

“What if—fuck—what if I want to play with her instead?” Minho dares to voice. His own hand is torturous over Chan’s cock through the cotton of his briefs, before he finally slips it inside. Chan moans before he bites his lip to cut off the sound. “Invite her right here, right after you. Touch her while you’re outside. Fuck her while she gets to look at herself the mirror.”

“Fuck, Minho, please, please, Minho—”

“She’d look so—so pretty, ah,” Minho grunts, just when Chan’s hand tightens around him. Fuck. “Desperate for me. What if she likes it more with me than with you, Channie?”

“Minho—”

“What if she begs for my cock instead of yours, the next time you make love to her?”

Chan says nothing, but he kisses Minho again, more tongue than anything, like he wants to eat him whole. He keeps making small noises, like he doesn’t even realize it, already gone under Minho’s touch. What a pretty little thing.

Chan sounds so sweet for him. Minho wonders what he sounds like with Felix. He wonders if Felix knows this side of her boyfriend, the one that’s needy for anything Minho would dare give him.

When Chan comes, it’s with Minho’s name on his tongue. When Minho comes, it’s wordless, breathless, and he tries to erase the thought of Felix out of his mind.

They come back to their table, Hyunjin threading her fingers into Felix’s hair. “She’s falling asleep. I think it’s time to go home, yeah, sweetheart?”

Minho watches as Chan completely melts at the sight. He doesn’t think he knows him well enough to know if he’s faking it, but it’s startling just how honest he looks, how stricken with love he seems.

Minho swallows the lump at his throat, and tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, still.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Minho works for an accounting firm. It’s nothing special. He sort of hates his job, but at least it pays handsomely and he gets pretty good PTO and benefits.

Part of his job involves him visiting clients. Businesses his firm audits every year, or others they offer consulting services to. He usually tends to go alone or paired up with one of his coworkers, and most clients will offer him a quiet office space and whichever documents and help he may need, before letting him work on his own.

He learned the other night that Felix also majored in business school. An accounting major, just like him. She quickly left the firm she interned at as a student, though. Audit wasn’t for her at all. She much prefers working in-house for a business, she mentioned.

When Minho gets fetched to a new client meeting the following week, he almost thinks he should have expected Felix to welcome him, with the way things have been going, lately. Like some sick joke from the universe.

“Oh, Minho-oppa,” she says, surprise colouring her warm tone, before she catches himself with a shy smile. “God—sorry, please excuse me. I just—I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s all good, Felix, please,” Minho answers with a small chuckle. When he smiles, though, it’s warm and sincere, as much as he can muster. “I didn’t expect this either. It’s good to see a familiar face, though.”

“Of course.” Felix grins at him, before motioning towards the hall. “Shall we? It’s right through here.”

Felix is wearing a lovely, thin white blouse today with a tan pencil skirt and cute flats. Her hair is up in a ponytail, with a few stray strands framing her pretty face. Her makeup is more subtle now than it was when they’d met for drinks, but Minho finds that it suits her even more. Her freckles are more visible like this. She looks wonderfully innocent and poised.

Minho wants to ruin her.

“You can settle in here,” she says, stopping before a small, windowless office. The walls are white, the neons are harsh. A lone desk sits against the wall, bare and empty. It’s fucking depressing, but it’s part of the job. Felix seems to catch on, too. “Sorry, we’re a bit short on empty spaces. This is the best we could do,” she winces.

“It’s alright, Felix,” Minho replies, and offers her a smile. Saying her name is addicting. Watching her blink and blush every time he does, even more so. “Don’t worry about me. It’s perfect.”

“Right.” She nods once, claps her hands. It’s adorably awkward. “Um, I can bring you some water, and coffee, if you want? Biscuits?”

“Coffee would be great, actually.”

“Sweet. How do you take your coffee?”

“Just black, thanks.”

“Of course, Minho. I’ll be right back.”

He settles in while she’s gone, opening his laptop and organizing his files. He’s familiar with the case already. He could be done in a few hours, go back to the office the moment he has everything he needs. He could even work from home, once he’s done here.

But part of him marvels at being here. What are the odds? Who could’ve thought Minho would ever catch Felix on her own, without her boyfriend hovering over her? Not that Minho has been thinking about it. He’s wasted enough time obsessing over Chan alone to spend any sort of time thinking about his girlfriend, but. They’re a bit of a unit, the two of them, after all.

Felix comes back a few minutes later, cup of steaming coffee in one hand, and a water bottle in the other.

“Here. Be careful, the coffee’s hot.”

“You’re adorable. Thank you.” Minho accepts the coffee, pretends not to notice when Felix flushes under his words.

It’s too easy. It’s too, too easy. It’s too good, too. God.

“I’ll be right there if you need me,” she says, pointing towards the open workspace at the end of the hall. She doesn’t make a move to leave, though.

Minho nods, watching her patiently as he sits down at his chair. “Sweet. Thank you for everything, really. I won’t bother you now.”

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

Again, Felix doesn’t move. Minho watches her, and the attention flusters her clearly, her hands coming to adjust her skirt, flit at her hair. When Minho raises his hand to tug at his earring, Felix’s eyes follow the motion, and it’s like something ignites inside of her.

“I was wondering—um.”

“Yes?” Minho lowers his hand. Flexes his fist. His ring stares back at him before he looks back up to Felix.

“Would you like to grab a drink after work, maybe?” she asks, uncharacteristically shy. “Just—you know. You’re Hyunjin’s friend, I’d love to get to know you.”

Minho observes her. She is shy, yes; tucking her hair behind her ears, kicking the toe of her shoe at the floor. But the way she’s staring back at him is determined, almost uncanny with intensity, and Minho feels a slight shiver run down his spine.

“Of course.” He offers a kind smile. “Your boyfriend won’t mind?”

It’s an awful thing to say. He knows it. He knows, now, that Felix probably doesn’t suspect he was in on the cheating, but they both know, at this point, that whatever relationship between her and Chan is strained, at best. No matter how much they love each other, at least not until they fix whatever this is.

“He won’t,” she answers with a firm tone. Her smile is halfway between polite and playful when she adds, “He doesn’t have to know, anyway.”

Minho laughs softly, like it’s a funny joke. “Of course. I’ll see you later then, Felix.”

He works most of the day in the quiet of the stifling office, only leaving for the bathroom or for a quick lunch at a sandwich joint down the street. He catches Felix on his way back, and winks at her. She blushes prettily, but still answers him with a smile and a nod, pretty eyes looking up at him with mirth.

She’s so pretty. She’s truly beautiful, the way pixies or fairies or otherworldly beings are. Her beauty feels almost unattainable. Chan is so fucking lucky. Does he realize how lucky he is? Minho thinks he does—the man doesn’t miss an opportunity to rave about his girlfriend. So why is he cheating? Why go behind her back, step all over her trust and her dignity, just for a quick fuck?

But is that what they are, though? Minho and Chan. Just a quick fuck. It was, once. And then Chan started texting him, and sending pictures, and flirting, and then the moment they saw each other again they couldn’t keep their hands off one another.

Minho sighs. What a shame. Felix and Chan deserve each other, they do. They’re so good for one another, it shows. Minho doesn’t care, but maybe he can admit to himself this much.

What a shame.

Felix comes to find him once the clock strikes seven. It’s a bit later than what he’s used to, but Minho doesn’t mind. He gets to have Felix all to himself.

She takes him to an unassuming wine bar just a few blocks away. The alcohol is tangy and sweet and the few appetizers they order are delicious. It’s a nice spot. Hyunjin would love it here.

Minho keeps up conversation, even though he can barely remember what he says the moment it leaves his mouth.

Felix has undone her ponytail, and her blonde hair now falls down to her shoulders, a few wispy bangs tickling her forehead. She’s sitting close on the brown leather bench they’ve settled at, and she has to look up to him to gaze back at him. Her eyelashes are so long. From this close, he can see the few clumps of her mascara, the smudges of concealer under her eyes. Minho barely catches himself not to wipe it away with his thumb to uncover the few freckles hidden underneath.

When he compliments her, she blushes and rolls her eyes, but preens nonetheless. Minho can’t stop.

She smells so good. Something achingly sweet and slightly floral, and it fits her wonderfully. She sways towards him when she laughs. Minho settles an arm behind her, against the bench, and she leans into it seamlessly. Her lips are bitten red, and she keeps biting them again, applying chapstick, licking them once more. Licking, biting, repeat. Minho wants to kiss her. Minho wants to ruin her.

It’s nearing nine when her phone chimes. She turns towards the sound, picks it up where it’s sitting screen down on the table.

“Oh, it’s Channie,” she says. She bites her lip again. “He says it’s getting late.”

Minho almost wants to scoff. How fucking bold of him to say that. “It’s only nine, Felix. It’s alright.” And then, because Minho is fucking insane, he adds, “Tell him you’re with me. Surely he won’t mind?”

When Felix looks back at him, she stares through her lashes, and Minho—he almost gives in to her lips then. He swallows. “No, I don’t think he will. I’ll tell him.”

“Okay. Good.”

He watches her small hands as she types. with minho-oppa right now. ill be late. don’t wait up!! She adds a few heart emojis and a kissing face. Minho wants her.

Chan replies, but Minho can’t read that from where he sits. Felix tells him anyway. “Hm. Channie won’t be home for a while either. He says hi,” she adds, winking at him.

Minho laughs. What a fucking asshole. “Tell him I said hi, too.”

When she puts her phone down, she turns fully towards him. Settles a hand on his thigh. Looks up at him innocently, still. “So. Where were we?”

It’s such a corny thing to say. Minho doesn’t even realize what words leave his mouth—his senses have zeroed in on Felix’s small hand on his thigh, hot even through the fabric of his slacks. Her thumb has started caressing him softly, slowly. He scoots forward, drapes his arm more comfortably just behind her. She tilts her head against his bicep, looking up at him with wide, wondrous eyes.

She’s sinful to look at. It’s like she’s begging for Minho to do exactly what he’s done to Chan, just through the language of her body. Minho wants her.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Just a moment,” he says.

“Of course,” Felix replies. She doesn’t move an inch.

He has to be careful when he pulls out his phone. Of course, it’s a text from Chan. Who else?

channie ᵕ̈

are you with felix right now?

Minho smirks. He types a quick reply.

minho

and what if i am?

“Who is it?”

“Just a friend. Don’t worry about it.”

channie ᵕ̈

oh! i didn’t know you guys knew each other like that.

minho

we don’t, we just happened to work together today

im getting to know her

she’s truly lovely

“Minho,” Felix whines, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t lose it right then and there. He chances a look at her, and she’s pouting, pretty lips jutted out. “Leave your phone and talk to me, hm?”

“Okay, sweetheart, just one second.”

channie ᵕ̈

yeah, she is.

have fun! don’t do something i wouldn’t do ;)

He huffs as he pockets his phone, before turning back towards Felix. It’s only when they make eye contact again, her eyes wide with stupor where she’s still leaning against his arm, that he registers what he’s just said.

Sweetheart. It’s just—it fits her so well. Minho has called her that maybe a thousand times in his head now. Felix is so sweet. She’s truly, absolutely wonderful. She’s so fucking pretty. She’d taste so sweet under his tongue, between her legs.

Fuck.

Before he can say anything, though, Felix asks, “Do you want to come over?”

Minho blinks. His eyes slide down to her lips, and stay there. “What about Chan?”

“He’ll be okay with it,” she murmurs. Her voice is sultry and deep, and Minho shivers. He’s so gone for her. It’s over.

“Are you sure?”

When she nods, her skin drags against the cotton of his shirt. “I’m sure.” She smiles, knowing. “You know he would.”

Fuck. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart, let’s go.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Chan and Felix live together. It’s the upper unit of a lovely duplex in one of the trendy, central neighbourhoods of the city. Exposed brick, solid wooden floors, and what looks like a few picture frames on the wall.

That’s about as much as he can grasp from the apartment before the lock clicks behind him, and Felix pushes him against the door.

She kisses him immediately, and Minho almost hates himself for the way he melts with relief—she tastes just as sweet as he’d expected, like her peach chapstick and the wine she had and something else, something entirely hers. His hands settle at her waist, pulling her closer, and she moves almost seamlessly, drawn to him.

She kisses him like she’s trying to prove a point—and after a few minutes, once the initial daze fades, Minho figures she is, after all. Her boyfriend’s cheating on her. She’s trying to hook up with the man her boyfriend cheated with. Maybe there’s absolutely no attraction from her end, after all. Maybe this is all just payback, for her, and nothing more—and Minho is still at her mercy, still completely desperate for her, even more than Chan was for him just a week prior.

What a fucking mess.

Still, when he licks into her mouth, she whimpers beautifully, and he drinks it up. When he settles one of his hands into her hair, carding through her blonde locks, she slumps against him, pushing her body closer to his. When his other hand slides down to her ass, she makes a sound so sweet Minho wants to devour her.

He maneuvers her gently, pushes her away so that he can press her against the opposing wall. She thuds her head back, detaching their lips, and it’s the most surreal sight Minho has ever been graced with.

Her lips are wet and bitten raw. Her hair is slightly askew, and her makeup has already started to smudge just from kissing Minho. There’s already a few buttons of her blouse that came undone, and her legs are parted, only stopped by the stretch of her skirt around her thighs.

“When’s Channie coming home?” Minho asks, and almost freezes at the slip of his tongue.

But then Felix smiles, vindictive, and it’s—not the sad, tortured thing he’d expected. From what he’s gathered from Felix, he didn’t expect her to be completely hung up on her feelings, or even desperate for Chan’s attention, but still. Catching her boyfriend cheating must’ve hurt, and hearing the confirmation from the man who fucked him should’ve caused at least a little bit of distress.

Felix’s smile, however, is confident, knowing, and it’s hypnotizing. Minho stares, enraptured. “Who cares when he’s coming home,” she whispers. Her hands come to frame Minho’s face, and she presses one long, gentle kiss against his lips before pulling away. “Take me to our bedroom. Fuck me in our bed. I want you, Minho-oppa. I need you.”

He surges up to catch her lips in one last kiss, before he moves away, letting her guide him with their hands laced between them.

Chan and Felix’s apartment truly is lovely. There are marks of their shared lives scattered everywhere across the space—picture frames, yes, but also random travel paraphernalia, handwritten notes, a few trinkets that speak of a shared life together. No wonder Chan is so smitten with her. Felix is perfect, so perfect, the life they have together is perfect.

Their bedroom is quaint, most likely Felix’s doing. The bed is wide and the unmade sheets are strewn across the surface. Minho watches as Felix undoes the zip of her skirt and lets it fall to the ground before climbing onto the bed, facing Minho with her legs parted wide.

“Well?” she says, tilting her head. Her hair moves with the motion, and Minho needs her. “Are you coming, or do I have to get myself off on my own?”

Fuck. Fuck.

Minho chucks his pants away before he climbs with her, and Felix grins widely as she watches, one of her hands coming to her breast to squeeze. A small sound escapes her, and Minho kisses it out of her mouth.

He gently moves her to lay down against the sheet, settles one of his thighs between her legs to give her something to grind to. She already stutters out a moan at the first contact, her hands grasping at Minho’s shoulders before she lifts her hips up to increase the pressure.

Felix is wet. Minho can feel her even through the thin fabric of her panties, against the skin of his leg, her hair matted with it. He watches her hips as she slowly grinds against him, her right hand squeezing her breast, the loveliest noises catching at her throat. He leans in and kisses her neck.

“Minho, tell me.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me—you and Chan. What—what did you do to him?”

Minho freezes.

He stops moving, and feels Felix sigh under him. “Oh, darling. Don’t get shy on me now, hm?”

“You knew?” he asks, like he hasn’t figured it out himself, like he hasn’t thought of every single scenario playing out in his head while fucking Chan, while talking to him, while talking to her, while kissing her.

She moves against him, sighs at the touch. Minho presses a gentle kiss at her neck, tentative. She hums. “Chan, he… he needs his fun. I let him have it. I know he—he always comes back to me, at the end of the night. I know he loves me.”

“He does. He really does.”

“I know. I love him, too,” she sighs, hiccups when the drag of her cunt feels particularly sweet. Minho tightens his thigh, and she moans softly.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“That’s my boy,” she chuckles. “But you seemed—special.”

“Special?”

“He gave you his number,” Felix explains. She’s still moving against him. Minho licks at her skin, and she swears. “I know you fucked him in the bathroom, even though I was right there. He must’ve been so sweet to you, hm?”

Minho’s cock twitches in his underwear. It’s unreal, the grasp this woman has on him. “That makes me special?”

“He’s obsessed with you. I can’t have that without—without having you for myself too.”

“Fuck.”

“Kiss me, Minho, yeah?”

He obliges. He can’t help it. Minho almost doesn’t understand how she has such a hold over him already—he doesn’t get like this, not for anyone, especially not someone he’s only met twice at most. But it’s not just just Felix, is it? It’s Felix, and it’s Chan, and it’s the two of them, and how Minho falls in between.

don’t do something i wouldn’t do ;)

Minho wonders what Chan must be thinking. Does he imagine Minho fucking his girlfriend, too? Getting her to come over and over, gasping another man’s name, the same way he did? Completely lost to Minho’s touch? Or is he thinking about it the other way around, with Minho at Felix’s mercy? Maybe Chan knows more than he lets on. Maybe Felix does, too. Maybe the real, clueless one in this whole thing was Minho, right from the start.

He sucks on Felix’s tongue and she moans. He grinds himself down against her hip and nearly sobs at the sweet pressure against his cock, near bare under his briefs. He sits back, Felix mourning the loss of his touch with a whine, and starts to work on the button of her blouse before taking off his own.

When he leans back down, Felix gloriously naked under him save for her underwear, his hand goes straight for her clothed cunt. Her breath stutters and she gasps, her eyes blinking open. Her skin is so warm, and her cunt is so wet. Minho wants, and wants, and wants.

She’s blushing so prettily. God. No wonder Chan is crazy about her.

“Please touch me, Minho, please,” she begs, and fuck—Chan was right. She sounds so lovely when she begs.

His thumb finds her clit and presses gentle circles, while his fingers slide down her folds over the fabric of her panties. It’s soaking, already. Minho wants nothing more than chuck it away, but he revels in this first; the desperation coming out of Felix’s mouth, her lips parted wide, brows furrowed in pleasure under his hand.

His other hand, where he’s holding himself up with his arm next to her head, comes to push her hair away from her forehead. She’s sweating, glowing with it. She’s absolutely fucking gorgeous.

“Get my underwear off,” she asks. “Please, Minho, just touch me, get your fingers in me, please—”

Minho cuts her off with a kiss at the juncture of her jaw and neck, and she chokes out a high-pitched moan, her legs spasming around his hand. He barely registers how her own hands are on both of her breasts now, her nipples pinched between her small fingers.

He doesn’t waste time taking off her underwear. He throws it behind him with little care, and brings his hand back. She spreads her legs wider, baring her neck, and he slips one finger in at first, watching how she moans the moment he breaches her.

He can’t even think of his own cock right now, neglected and wetting his underwear. Minho is mesmerized with the red of Felix’s skin around her cheeks, down to her chest. Her hips move sinuously around his hand, and she hiccups again when he drags his thumb over her clit in slow, gentle moves.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, Minho, keep going, please, please…”

Distantly, Minho thinks he hears—the sound of keys. The click of a door, the hinges of it singing as it swings open, and closed. The tingle of the lock.

The low thud of steps against the floorboard. A voice he hasn’t heard in a week. “Lixie, darling, are you home?”

And Felix—she draws out a moan, one of her hands clasping around Minho’s wrist between her legs, pressing him closer. Encouraging him to keep going. She’s louder now than she was just moments ago.

Fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.

The steps in the hall stop for a moment. Minho stops moving himself, until Felix whines under him. “No, no, please, I need it now, please—”

“Baby?” Chan’s voice echoes from the hall. It’s taken a slightly dark edge, and it settles over Minho like a warm, heavy blanket. He’s missed Chan’s voice. He’s missed Chan. He needs him right here with him, with them.

He wants Chan to watch as he makes Felix come on his fingers. He wants to watch as Chan kisses her, pleasures her, fucks her. He wants—he needs Felix to watch as Minho fucks Chan, as he takes Minho’s cock just as sweetly as he did weeks ago.

“Channie,” Felix cries out.

“Fuck,” Minho grunts. It’s the first words he pronounces in such a long time, and it’s like something finally snaps in him. “Fuck, fuck, Felix, you’re fucking perfect for me, yeah?”

“Yes, God, please—”

“Taking me so well,” Minho says. He hears the door to the bedroom open, but he doesn’t turn, not yet. He buries his head in Felix’s neck again, presses his words against her skin. “So sweet to me. Show him, yeah? How good you are to me, baby.”

He slips another finger in her, pressing against her walls with purpose. Felix chokes on another moan, and Minho feels her turn her head towards Chan, standing at the door, frozen. “Chan, I…”

“No,” comes Chan’s voice. He’s clearly affected, and it sends a jolt of arousal down Minho’s spine, but his tone remains calm, quiet. He can barely hear him over the sound of his own breathing. “Don’t worry about me, my love. Take what Minho gives you.”

It’s Minho’s turn to whine pitifully, and his hips kick up against Felix. She sobs out a cry, and Minho feels her hand tightening against her breasts from under him.

Taken with curiosity, Minho finally turns to catch Chan’s eye.

He’s standing just a few steps into the bedroom. He’s clad in all black, something sporty that hugs his body nicely. Minho can trace the curve of his shoulders, the way his waist slims into his ass, the strength of his thighs even under the fabric of his short.

“Channie,” he exhales, and there’s a pleased smile that pulls at his lips. It’s a near unconscious thing. “How—how lovely of you to join us.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Chan shakes his head, eyes wide with admiration. They travel down Minho’s figure, zero in on the hand at Felix’s cunt, before climbing back to settle on Felix’s sweet face. “Lixie, baby, I didn’t—how did you—”

“He’s so pretty, isn’t he, Channie?” Felix nods, like she gets it. Like—like she wants Minho, the same way Chan wants him, the same way Minho wants her— “Will you let him fuck me, hm? Will you please, baby?”

“Of course,” Chan is quick to agree, nodding. His eyes are already glazing over with want. He walks closer to them, sits at the foot of the bed. He brings one hand to the small of Minho’s back, and Minho’s skin erupts with goosebumps. “Of course Minho can fuck you, darling. But not before I do.”

“Oh, fuck,” Minho moans. It’s—it’s too much. He moves to settle on his side, away from Felix, but keeps his hand inside her, moving with purpose. His thumb doesn’t leave her clit, and she’s starting to tremble under his hand.

“That’s right, Minho, like this,” Chan murmurs. The hand at his hand has slid down to Minho’s front, dangerously close to his aching cock. “She’s close, now, aren’t you, baby?”

“I’m—I’m—Chan, please!” Felix cries out, her spine arching, eyes fixed on her boyfriend. “I’m close, so close, I just—I need—”

“What do you need, baby?” Chan probes, gentle.

“I need you,” she whispers, and Chan’s smile is stunning. Dripping with love and affection. Minho is going to burst.

Chan leans in and kisses Felix, and it only takes a few more strokes from Minho’s hand for her to come, a high, needy thing coming out of her throat as she climaxes. Minho fingers her through it, watches as she falls apart, kissing Chan with tears at the corner of her eyes.

When she twitches away from his touch, Minho keeps going, trying to get her there again. Chan kisses down her neck, her chest, all the while still dressed—what an insane sight, with the two of them naked next to him.

“Minho, stop, stop, I can’t, I can’t—”

“You can,” Chan kisses into her skin. “You can, baby, Minho will make you feel so good, he’s so good at that, honey.”

Minho wants to laugh. He needs Chan on his cock right now, or he’ll fucking explode. He needs Felix to come again, or else he’s going to fucking die before he can come himself.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take too long—he feels Felix’s breathing grow quicker, her voice getting louder and louder before it catches, and she seizes over his fingers, body locked into pleasure. She’s fucking stunning—tears tracing down her face, not unlike Chan’s, mouth open wide as a soundless cry stuck at her throat. Chan is murmuring sweet praises against her skin, dotting and loving.

Minho pulls out after a moment, before slumping with his back to the bed. He catches his breath, turns his head to see Chan and Felix kissing languidly. It’s an obviously practiced thing—it’s nothing like the desperate thing he and Chan have, nor the hurried kiss Felix had graced with at the door. They kiss like they have all the time in the world, like they trust that they’ll have the other today, tomorrow, and all the following days after that. They kiss like they don’t want anything else. They kiss like they only ever want each other.

Minho swears under his breath at the sight, and it seems to pull Chan out of his daze. He turns to him, letting Felix drag her mouth to press soft kisses at his neck as he stares at Minho.

“Hey,” he says, smiling, and the dimples make an appearance.

“Fuck, Chan,” Minho groans. He reaches down to his neglected cock, pulling his underwear down in one swift move and taking himself in hand.

“No, please—please,” Chan stutters, suddenly pulling away from Felix, who only sighs contentedly, turning to her side to watch them. Chan climbs over him, leans down to kiss him sweetly, and Minho almost cries.

“You’re so beautiful,” Minho confesses against his lips. He doesn’t know who he’s talking about—Chan, Felix, the pair of them. “You’re incredible.”

“So are you, Minho-yah,” Chan chuckles against his mouth. His tongue slides into his mouth, hums when Minho moans around it, needy and so unlike himself. “What do you want, love?”

Love. Minho almost, almost cries. “I want you. Your—your mouth, again, please, please—”

“Okay, okay, of course, darling, of course.” He feels Chan turn to Felix, the quiet question he poses with the gesture. Is this okay?

A lost, distant part of Minho wonders what this all means. If Felix will get her fill and kick him out, never to see him again after this. If she’ll dump Chan, and Chan will be inconsolable for days on end after this. He doesn’t think that’ll happen, though. They look so good, together. They are meant for the other.

Felix hums around a yawn. When Minho chances a look at her, she has her head leaning against her arm. She reminds Minho of how she looked, just a few hours ago. “Baby, please. Don’t keep Minho waiting.”

A hysterical, bubbly laugh climbs up Minho’s throat. “Fuck, oh God.”

“You heard her,” Chan says, before leaving one last kiss against Minho’s lips and moving towards his cock.

He wastes no time—he must see how much Minho is shaking, how much want curses through him, thrumming and aching to escape. Chan licks up Minho’s cock and sinks down on him immediately, and Minho groans at the spike of instant pleasure.

“Fuck, Chan,” he hears Felix whine, and when Minho turns, he catches her with fingers in her mouth, sucking gently.

Minho moans. “Oh my God.”

His hand flies down to Chan’s hair again, pushing him closer, but he keeps his eyes trained on Felix, on her tongue peeking as she licks between her fingers, sucking in time with Chan’s ministrations. She swallows around her fingers, wide eyes shining wet, moments after Chan swallows around his cock, and that’s what does it—Minho snaps, coming without a warning, spine arching off the bed as Chan swallows dutifully around him.

Chan pulls off of him when he comes down, coming up with a wide smile as he licks his lips. Minho rolls his eyes at him, and he hears Felix giggle softly next to them.

There’s a soft sort of quiet that settles over them. Chan is sat between them, legs crossed, visibly aroused but content to simply sit back and stare at the two of them. Felix is observing him, pensive, but nothing in her gaze tends towards animosity—simply gentle wonder, maybe a little bit of uncertainty, like she doesn’t like not knowing what’s next. Yet it feels as though, to Minho, that whatever is next doesn’t seem to put her off, at all.

And Minho—

He knows nothing. He doesn’t know what he feels, doesn’t know what he wants. He knows he cares more about Chan than he ever allowed himself to admit, and he thinks he could get there with Felix, too. He doesn’t know if he wants a relationship, or just the privilege to fuck into Felix until she cries out his name or do the same to Chan, once in a while. A little exception to their picture perfect pair. Or the third piece that fits, seamless.

Minho swallows. He catches his breath. He brings his hands to his face, slides them down his skin before he plops his arms back down with a deep sigh.

“Anyone up for a smoke?”

⊹₊⟡⋆