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Chan groans as his back collides with their apartment door; the click of the lock drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and the euphoric feeling of Felix climbing all over him—scrambling to paw at every inch of Chan’s body like he is about to evaporate into thin air. Tiny hands explore the expanse of Chan’s chest, his biceps, his shoulders; curious fingers pinching and squeezing into toned muscle.
Their lips collide with a clash of teeth and eager tongues, one curling around the other—licking into cheeks and behind teeth—tasting each other. Remnants of tequila shots and pornstar martinis linger on Felix’s tongue, and Chan drinks it down. His hands find Felix’s lithe waist, the width of his palms almost enveloping it completely. Felix’s skin is welcomingly warm even through his shirt, and so Chan can’t help himself when he rucks up Felix’s shirt, craving the skin-on-skin touch. He’s so goddamn soft, it’s unfathomable—Chan never wants to let go.
Felix’s hands come up to tangle in Chan’s hair, maneuvering his head to better the angle, as his thigh comes up to press between Chan’s legs. The pressure on his half-hard cock shoots through him like a rocket and he clamps down on Felix’s waist even tighter, can’t resist his hips bucking up to grind against him.
“Shit, baby.” He pants into the younger’s mouth, feeling himself throb in his jeans as he reaches full-mast.
Felix moans, shudders with it, bites down on Chan’s lower lip, “fuck— call me that again, please.”
Smirking, Chan lifts Felix easily, rearranging them so it’s now Felix’s back against the door and it’s his thigh between Felix’s legs instead.
Chan drags his lips across Felix’s cheek until he reaches his ear, nibbles at his earlobe. He breathes against the shell of his ear—a teasing, lilting murmur, “yeah? Are you my baby, Lix?”
Felix’s head thunks back against the door and it lolls on his shoulders, allowing Chan access to mouth down to his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh. Felix seems to not know what to do with his hands; they flex and grip at Chan’s torso, adventuring over everything they can reach. Hurried, like he’s in a rush, he fumbles with Chan’s belt—huffs when it won’t open.
Chan chuckles into Felix’s throat, bites down lightly on his jugular, “slow down, Lix, I’m not going anywhere— fuck—” he chokes on a moan when Felix meanly squeezes his dick, “sorry, I meant baby.”
“Now I’ve finally got you like this—is this belt made of fucking impenetrable steel, fucking hell—I just wanna do it all right away.”
Chan sighs happily, leaving one lasting mark to Felix’s neck which blooms a beautiful deep purple. He cages Felix in against the door, one arm resting against it, and takes Felix’s cheek into his palm—tilts his head up to look at him. He thumbs over the prominent freckle that sits under Felix’s eye, gazes deep into his eyes like he’s searching for salvation. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, Lix—” correcting himself when Felix purses his lips, “baby. You have me, sweetheart. I’m here.”
This is… new for them. Very new. Years of a constant push and pull, a will-they-won’t-they. Teasing smiles and almost too many cheeky comments. They always teetered the line of being too close to just be friends but it was like they didn’t want to step over it, never wanted to plummet into the depths of something more. What they have is safe territory—a cosy contained box that they can co-exist in and never have to face the very real fear of what if? What they have just works for them, and they both never wanted to push further because what if that were to ruin everything they’ve built up until this point.
Chan doesn’t know why tonight is the night that things have finally caught up to them—why tonight’s regular Friday night clubbing with their group of friends led to their feelings reaching boiling point and bubbling over—but he isn’t complaining in the slightest.
Felix puckers his lips for another kiss and who is Chan to deny his baby. He keeps one hand on Chan’s belt, but wraps his other arm around the older’s neck. The force behind the kiss is almost enough to knock Chan off of his feet and he widens his stance, moves to hold Felix’s tiny waist again. Felix tastes of fruit syrup and cheap vodka—Chan no doubt tastes like the gross Jägerbomb that Jisung practically poured down his throat—but he knows he isn’t drunk, neither of them are. There might be leftover alcohol still fizzling through their bloodstreams but the moment they set foot on their apartment building’s floor, looked at each other and just knew that this was the moment, they had sobered up immediately.
“I think,” Felix mumbles against Chan’s lips, unable to speak a full sentence without stealing more kisses, “that I might be addicted to your mouth.”
Chan laughs into Felix’s open mouth, “is that so?” Chan tugs him closer, lifts him slightly so he’s straddling his thigh, resting his weight more against Chan instead of the door. They really should move somewhere more comfortable.
“Mm…” Felix takes Chan’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs, sucking lightly. When he lets go, it springs back and he swallows down Chan’s moan, “how am I ever meant to stop kissing you?”
Chan pulls back, increases the pressure against Felix’s crotch, hums at the beautiful moan that it alights. He glances down pointedly—winks, “I can think of an even better use of my mouth.” He immediately winces when the corners of Felix’s mouth turn upwards, and he feels the flush in his cheeks. “Sorry,” he stumbles over a laugh, “that was insanely cringey.”
“Never.” Felix’s right arm joins the left around Chan’s neck and pulls him back down to kiss him again. The plush of his lips are so soft against Chan’s. “Never apologise for being cringey. I love your cringe. Actually,” he plays with the curls at Chan’s nape, twirls one around his finger, “you should be more cringey.”
If they weren’t seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, and if he wasn’t achingly hard, he might’ve started crying—although if he’s being honest, Felix’s natural sincerity almost made him blow his load right there in his pants. To have the person who he is so inexplicably obsessed with—the person who he sees as a second limb, his home, his roman empire if you will—see him for his true self and not be deterred is almost too much for his poor heart (and dick) to handle, as silly as the comment was.
Felix is gazing at him as if Chan personally hung the sun, moon and all the stars in the sky for him and so he needs to get this man into his bed before he explodes.
“Your room or mine?”
Felix kisses him again. “Yours. It’s so much cosier.” He laughs, “and tidier.”
Without giving any warning, Chan hoists Felix up and he yelps, wrapping his legs tightly around Chan’s waist; his fingernails dig into the back of Chan’s neck. Chan’s hands grip Felix on his ass and he squeezes just to hear that delicious yelp again.
“Could definitely get used to you using your strength on me like that,” Felix muses as Chan walks them in the direction of his bedroom. Felix barely weighs anything.
“Yeah?” He turns them around, uses his back to push open the door. “Want me to throw you around, baby?”
“Mm, yeah… Rough me up, daddy.” You wouldn’t have guessed that Felix said that with a jokey tone, gremlin voice at the ready, with the way Chan falters—trips over air, throws out a hand to catch himself on his chest of drawers. He really hopes Felix didn’t feel his dick twitch.
Felix’s expression says otherwise. “Oh?”
Heat rises up Chan’s chest, up his neck and cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears. “Not another word.”
Felix smirks, pinches Chan’s ear. “We’ll come back to this another day.”
Even though it was so obvious this wouldn’t be a one time thing, everything that had led up to this moment proving it inevitable, to hear the confirmation from Felix’s lips still makes Chan’s heart flutter in his chest.
Composing himself, Chan takes the final steps across the room, gently placing Felix down onto the bed. The younger man juts out his lower lip, somehow making his doe eyes even bigger as he scoots back on the bed and Chan climbs on and crawls over him. He bends his knees so Chan can be caged between them. “I thought you were gonna throw me around.”
Chan can’t resist pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Not for the first time, baby.”
Felix eyes smile along with his mouth; entire facing lighting up with it. “Sap,” he smacks Chan lightly on the chest, “our first time.”
They get lost in each other again, until their lips are swollen and kiss-bitten, until they’re grinding against each other with no rhythm and it simultaneously feels like they’re rushing—making up for lost time—but also like they have all the time in the world.
“Chris,” Felix pushes at Chan’s chest until the older man sits upright on his haunches between his spread legs. There’s a thin layer of sweat along Felix’s hairline—his hair that was previously in a ponytail now messily feathered out like a halo against the pillows. “Please take my clothes off. My dick feels like it’s suffocating.”
Chan barks out a laugh, shaking his head, but lifts the hem of Felix’s shirt anyway. “Such a way with words.”
“You love me for it.”
“Yeah… Yeah, I do.”
They both pause—Felix’s shirt half way up his torso, Chan’s fingers barely grazing his obliques—and they just look at each other, eyes boring into each others’ like they’re trying to see straight through them. But that’s all the commenting they do on it; just acknowledging and confirming the obvious through their eyes.
“Baby, how am I meant to get your shirt off with you laying down?” He still tries though, Felix’s shirt now bunched up around his neck like a scarf.
Felix grumbles as he sits upright, his face now millimeters away from Chan’s own. He scrunches his nose when Chan places a kiss there. “I was enjoying the view.”
“But I thought your dick was suffocating?” Chan teases, finally getting the flimsy fabric off when Felix raises his arms.
After struggling with the skin-tight leather trapping Felix’s thighs, Chan gets Felix to lay back down again. When he removes his socks, Felix laughs and kicks at Chan’s chest when he jokingly presses a kiss to the sole of his foot—never placed you as a foot guy, babe—but soon shuts up when Chan just smirks and trails his lips up, warm pressings of his lips to Felix’s ankle, calf, knee, inner thigh, until he reaches where Felix clearly wants him most. He blows warm air over the tenting of Felix’s boxers, looks up at the younger man through his lashes. Chan’s eyes don’t leave him as he lolls his tongue out, blindly laving it over Felix’s clothed cock, smugly humming because he knows it was the head—not just from the addictive taste of precum hitting his tastebuds, but also from Felix’s reaction. His bottom lip is tight between teeth, his chest heaving.
He shudders when Chan does it again, but this time with more pressure and more purpose. “Chan… Babe—fuck—stop, please—” He breaks off into a moan, and his fingers tangle in Chan’s hair—they twitch like he’s fighting with himself whether to push away or latch down at the roots and pull closer.
If it was anyone else, that would’ve terrified Chan—made him worried that he’s done something wrong, fucked up so badly that they are repulsed by him—but he knows Felix like the back of his hand, probably even better than he knows himself, and so this doesn’t scare him like it normally would. Instead, he leaves Felix’s cock alone, as much as he would love to worship it, and rests his head on Felix’s plush thigh, feels the peach fuzz against his cheek, gazes up at him like he’s a deity and Chan’s at his altar. He can feel the dopey grin on his face.
“What?”
“You’re just so beautiful.”
Felix rolls his eyes and looks away, but Chan doesn’t miss the flush of his cheeks or the way it highlights his freckles. In lieu of a response, “S’not fair me being the only one naked.” He speaks through a pout, absentmindedly stroking over Chan’s hair.
Chan exhales a laugh through his nose and torments Felix further by biting down gently on his inner thigh. He makes his way up Felix’s body the same way he did his leg, not leaving a single inch of his body—no singular freckle—untouched by kisses, paying special attention to his belly button and then his nipples, sucking each bud between his lips and licking over them, only continuing his journey when Felix whines his name and tugs harder on his hair.
When he hovers over Felix, a loose curl hangs down and tickles Felix’s nose, cutely scrunching it up; Chan wastes no time pressing a kiss there before moving to scatter pecks to every freckle adorning his face. The makeup on his face from their night-out is light, creasing and breaking up around his nose and under his eyes. Over the years—and assisted by Chan’s insistence—Felix has learnt to love his freckles, gradually wearing less and less full coverage foundation and leaning into his natural appearance. Not that he needed it anyway, Chan would still think he was beautiful even with a paper-bag over his head, but his freckles truly are something to behold.
He pays special attention to the large one under Felix’s left eye. “Technically—this is my favourite freckle by the way—technically,” Chan’s hand, palm large and fingers splayed wide, trail down Felix’s torso until it reaches the waistband of his boxers. He hooks a finger inside and pings it back against Felix’s skin, relishes in the wince it ignites, “you’re not actually naked, baby.”
Felix huffs out a sigh and it blows the curl of hair with it. “Chris, babe. Please just take your clothes off.” He makes no room for argument, almost an air of brattiness with it, and Chan lets himself fantasise for a short moment of how he can play around that in the future.
Chan makes quick work of his clothes, muttering with annoyance when Felix won’t let him fold his shirt neatly and put it in its designated spot within his room, but it soon fades into amusement when he catches the younger glaring at the belt that he was fighting with earlier.
“Get that thing out of my sight right now.” Felix mutters. With a smirk on his face, he removes the belt, with his jeans following shortly after. He tucks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and looks back at Felix. He cocks an eyebrow, nods towards Felix’s lower half. The younger boy bites his lip, eyes lazer-focused on Chan’s crotch but matches Chan’s position, moving to tug his boxers down, arching his back deliciously to get them over his ass.
Chan almost falls flat on his face at the sight of Felix in all his glory. A line of thick, dark hair trails down from his belly button, leading to a nest at the base of the prettiest cock that Chan has ever seen; flushed red and glossy at the tip. Despite his petite frame, Felix is packing slightly larger than average—not as big as Chan but still mouth-wateringly big—and Chan is frozen in place, watching as Felix wraps a hand around his girth and pumps himself slowly. It looks even larger in his hand and Chan has to physically shake his head at the imagery of that tiny hand wrapped around his own cock.
“Your turn,” Felix breathes out, swiping his palm over the head and resuming his stroking.
Chan painstakingly removes his gaze from Felix’s cock and locks eyes with him again, pulling his boxers down his thighs and letting them pool at his feet. His cock springs back against his abdomen and Felix’s mouth falls open.
“I need that in my mouth,” he says unashamedly and Chan can’t help the bewildered laugh that leaves him, stepping out of his boxers and climbing back onto the bed, finding his way back to his home between Felix’s legs. Felix's eyes grow to the size of saucers, “did I say that out loud?” Chan just kisses him in confirmation.
His hands roam Felix’s body again, running up and down his sides and over his belly. “You’re so tiny, baby, am I even going to fit?”
Felix frowns, meanly grabbing Chan’s cock and squeezing, trying to pull him by the dick towards his hole. Chan grunts and doubles over, catches himself on his hands either side of Felix’s head so as not to flatten him. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”
“Wait, baby—” He hisses through his teeth. “I need to prep you first. Lemme just grab—” Chan twists his body and stretches his arm out to reach for his nightstand, finding the handle and pulling it open to rustle around in it to find a condom and lube.
“Don’t need it,” Felix sighs contentedly, as he finally releases Chan’s dick and his hand finds Chan’s left pec instead, squeezing it like a stressball.
“Ahah! Found them!” Chan grabs the goods and turns back. “What do you mean ‘don’t need it’? Baby, I’m not—”
Felix has brought his knees up to his chest, holding himself open by the back of his thighs, practically presenting himself to Chan. His hole winks at him, pink around the edges and glistening with remnants of lube that has gotten tacky over the evening.
“I wanted to get lucky tonight. Never thought it would be with you.” Felix bites his lip, looks up at Chan through his lashes. “I’m very glad it’s with you.”
A red-hot possession runs through Chan’s bloodstream and he discards the items to the side of them, descending down onto the younger boy, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. Felix brings his legs around Chan’s waist and wraps his arms around his neck. Their teeth clash, their tongues wrap around one another; it’s messy, saliva seeping through the seam of their lips and dripping down their chins.
Chan tucks his face into Felix’s neck, licks and sucks his way to his ear, tugs his earlobe between his teeth. His breath coats his ear and Felix shudders, “that might have been enough for whichever undeserving motherfucker could have had a piece of you,” he grabs Felix’s ass cheek, jiggles it in his tight grip, “but you’re mine now, baby.”
Felix moans, arching into Chan and moaning even louder when their cocks rub against each other.
“Yeah, Lix baby?” He sucks a bruise onto the sensitive skin between Felix’s ear. “Are you mine?”
Felix’s fingernails carve crescents into the space between Chan’s shoulderblades. “Yours.” He bares his neck to allow Chan to decorate his skin with even more bruises. “Always been yours.”
Chan cradles Felix’s back with one arm and blindly pats around the bed for the lube, snatching it up and flicks it open with his thumb; handing it to Felix who has moved one hand and is now is busy greedily pawing over every part of Chan’s chest he can reach. Felix clumsily squeezes out way more than necessary onto Chan’s fingers, giggling when some drips down onto the bed and Chan tuts, mumbles messy baby into Felix’s neck.
He reaches between them and skims over Felix’s cock and taint, until he can rub the pads of his fingers over Felix’s puckered rim. Chan captures Felix’s lips again so that he can swallow down the moans that Felix pours into his open mouth as he sinks both fingers inside, making quick work of opening him out even wider. A third follows soon after, fucking in and out as much as the awkward bend of his wrist will allow and stretching out his fingers.
He crooks them at a particular angle and Felix gasps into his mouth, his thighs constricting around Chan’s frame even tighter. “I’m ready—fuck, Chris, babe—please, I’m ready—”
Chan sits up just enough that has enough room to grab the condom and tear it open with his teeth, rolling it down over his cock and giving himself a couple loose pumps to test the security, before squeezing out more lube and coating himself in it. He comes back over Felix, knocks their foreheads together and lines himself up.
“Definitely ready, baby?”
“I’ve never been more certain about something in my life.”
Chan sinks inside slowly and they moan in unison; doesn’t stop until he’s sheathed inside to the hilt. As cliché as it sounds, it truly does feel like coming home, he’s exactly where he is meant to be. Felix is so warm, rim fluttering around him and sucking him in tight; he can feel himself pulsating inside of him. Chan’s head thunks down onto Felix’s shoulder and he concentrates on his breathing so as not to blow his load immediately, tries not to think too hard about how good it feels but how even better it would feel if he wasn’t encased in latex.
“Fuck.” Chan slinks his arms between Felix and the bed, holding him tight against him with a hand in between his shoulders and the other holding his hip—almost lifting him up entirely. Felix’s legs wrap impossibly tighter around his waist, feet crossing over the small of his back and his fingers tangle into the curls at his nape.
Chan rears his hips back as much as their embrace will allow and thrusts back in, punching a pornagraphic moan out of Felix, who tugs harder at Chan’s hair enough to sting. He huffs into Felix’s neck, alternates between kissing and sucking at it, undulating his hips and pistoning his cock in and out of Felix, ascending with every whine it forces out of him.
“There! Right there—” Felix cries and he chokes as Chan continues to hit against that euphoric spot. His cock rubs against Chan’s abs, little bursts of precum adding to the sweat that is already sticking them together.
Chan is hurtling towards the finish line much too soon for his liking, the knot deep in his abdomen pulled tight and burning hot; ready to snap. “Baby— I’m not gonna last— Shit—”
Felix’s incoherent moans sound something like me neither and Chan lets go of Felix’s hip to worm his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Felix’s cock and pumping him in time with his thrusts. Felix keens, gasping in a lungful of air and coming over Chan’s fist and painting their stomachs in his release. Chan fucks him through it, picking up the pace to chase his own release—his hips stuttering to a halt as he reaches climax and he shudders through his own guttural moan, all but collapsing on top of Felix.
They melt into each other’s necks in the comedown, listening to each other’s breathing and the racing of their heartbeats. Chan absentmindedly mouths over where his lips are resting, and Felix scratches his fingernails over the base of Chan’s neck; both now sated and content.
“Chris, babe.” Felix taps Chan’s shoulder, and his legs fall back down onto the bed. “You’re squishing me, honey.” He laughs breathlessly, laughs even harder when Chan groans and pushes himself up on trembling arms just enough to then fall back down again, his head landing on Felix’s sternum, punching an oof out of the younger. “My big, strong baby.” Felix cards his fingers through Chan’s curls, lightly pulling them until they’re straight and letting them ping back again.
They both know it’ll be best to get up and shower, probably change the bedsheets—Chan can feel the now loose condom leaking out around him, maybe it would be best to move to Felix’s room instead—but they are too happy to just bask in each other, enjoying melding together as one and feeling his new, exciting connection. The lulling stroking of his hair, and the thump thump of Felix’s heartbeat beneath his ear, sends Chan right to sleep, with Felix not far behind. They can deal with the clean-up later.
Being roommates is easy. Being best friends is easy. Of course this new chapter in their lives will be just as easy.