Archive of Our Own

Their arrangement is straightforward. 

“Jisung,” Chenle sings, marching into Jisung’s humble abode, dropping two bags onto the countertop. He’s dressed casually, in one of those too-big t-shirts and ripped jeans. His hair, black (he’s sworn off dying it) is freshly washed. “I brought sushi. You know, I was talking to Jaemin. He said fish is really good for you. Of course, I knew it was important, but I didn’t realize how great it really was! And, well—” 

“You were craving sushi,” Jisung says. “Chenle, you can just admit you were craving it.” 

Chenle scowls. “I got it for us for later.” He opens Jisung’s fridge and his nose wrinkles. “When was the last time you grocery shopped? The nineteenth century?” 

Jisung gives him an unimpressed look. “No,” he says. “I shopped last week.” 

“Okay, um, sure. Did you buy anything?” Chenle’s tone is mean, just a little. Just enough. 

“Yes!” Jisung marches to him, taking the sushi containers from bags and piling them in the fridge. “We can talk about my grocery buying habits or whatever later, I guess. Let’s just—” 

Chenle’s laughter cuts him off. “Jisung.” 

Jisung ignores him. He knows what’s coming. Jisung is easier to read than a stop sign—and usually as red as one too. 

“Jisung,” Chenle sings. He places his hands on Jisung’s hips, gripping tight, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweats. “Did my teasing really do it for you?” 

Jisung nearly chokes on his own spit. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. “Pass me the rest of the sushi, will you?” 

Chenle smiles, catlike. Hungry. When Jisung goes to turn, Chenle doesn’t let him. “Did it?” 

Jisung groans, covering his face with his hand. “Yes.” He gives in quickly. “Now pass me the damn sushi or it’ll go bad before …” 

“Before what?” Chenle grins, canines sharp. “Before we’re done?” 

“Yes.” Jisung has to fight to retain his composure. 

“And how long does that take?” 

Jisung doesn’t answer. He has to steady himself. How Chenle gets him so riled up so fast, he has no clue. If there was a Guinness World Record for quickest flustering of someone’s who’s not really your boyfriend but they want you to be, Jisung is sure Chenle would win. 

Chenle doesn’t say anything more, just staring. 

“Literal hours,” Jisung mutters. “Just—Sushi, please.” 

Chenle giggles, and passes Jisung the containers. Jisung sets them all in the fridge and shuts it, with a little bit too much force. 

“Relax,” Chenle says, soothingly running his hands up Jisung’s arms. “You’re so pent up.” And Chenle steps back, hand on his hip. Jisung mourns the loss of his touch. “Really, you aren’t stressed about something, are you?” 

“I don’t think so,” Jisung says, like a fucking liar. He is stressed. This arrangement, while straightforward, isn’t perfect. 

Chenle’s gaze is sharp. Jisung nearly shivers, it’s always seemed like Chenle can nearly see into his soul. 

“Okay,” Chenle says. “You’ll tell me if something’s bothering you, right? If it has to do with all this?” 

“Yes.” 

“Promise.” 

Jisung swallows the dryness in his throat. 

“I promise.” 

The arrangement usually ends up like this. 

Jisung lies on his back, his hands above him tied to the headboard. His fingers somewhat laced, wrists pressed together tight. A blindfold around his eyes, Jisung can’t see a thing. His mind is clouded with a thick haze, a dizziness that leaves his tongue fat in his mouth, that renders him speechless. Chenle’s between his thighs, something Jisung only knows by the feeling of his hands on his thighs, for now rubbing gently. 

“Look at you,” Chenle murmurs, his voice low. “So pretty for me.” He hikes up one of Jisung’s legs, bending the knee and pressing it out to the side. Jisung keeps his leg as he moves it, doing his best to breathe slowly, deeply. He wishes he could see Chenle, see the look on his face, his hair, his hands, his body. Jisung really likes Chenle, if that weren’t already obvious. 

Jisung’s cock leans against his stomach, rock hard and leaking on his abdomen. Jisung has to remember to breathe. Chenle’s barely touched him. They aren’t edging today, no, Chenle just usually likes to take his sweet time. It’s okay, because Jisung likes it too. 

A slap lands on Jisung’s outer thigh, and he cries out. Chenle coos, rubbing the spot. 

“So cute.” And presses his leg out a little more. Jisung is bare, and painfully exposed. He’s at Chenle’s mercy, in the most enticing, gut-wrenching meaning of the word. 

There’s some shuffling. Chenle’s grip on his thighs changes. A wet warmth touches his cock. Jisung nearly chokes, a moan tearing itself from him. His back arches from the bed, into Chenle’s mouth. Chenle takes his hands to Jisung’s hips, just like he had in the kitchen, and holds him in place as he takes Jisung in his mouth wholly. Takes him in, sucking hard. Jisung moans again. 

“O-oh f-fuck.” Jisung nearly sees stars. He’s dizzy, his breaths shallow. Chenle bobs his head, licking at the tip of his cock, sucking. His whole body trembles. Maybe it’s the amplification of it all. The sensations on his cock feel so tenfold. Chenle’s hands on him leave a burning behind. Jisung feels nearly sick, as a coil tightens in his stomach. 

“Lele, I-I’m—” 

Chenle pulls off and Jisung sobs. He can’t seem to stop trembling, as though he’s been in the cold for hours. He shakes and shakes, tears leaking down his cheeks; he gasps. Chenle shushes him, rubbing his thighs soothingly. 

“You’re doing so well,” he says. “Breathe, baby. You’re doing so, so well.” But he doesn’t brush away Jisung’s tears. Chenle never does that, not out of malice, just because he likes to see Jisung cry. 

Jisung’s just calmed when Chenle removes a hand from his thigh. He gives Jisung’s cock a few pumps with his hand and Jisung groans. Chenle moves his hand again, this time, his fingers press to Jisung’s hole, circling it gently. Jisung knew this was coming—obviously, Chenle likes to discuss before any scene—but it seems, in his haziness, he’d forgotten. 

Chenle must see it, his confusion, because he laughs, only a little cruel. “Don’t tell me you forgot you were bottoming.” 

Jisung whines, but before he can even think to reply, Chenle’s pushing a finger in, and his jaw drops, no sound coming out. 

“Relax,” Chenle murmurs. “Just breathe, okay? It’s just me today.” 

Chenle, not small, but not nearly as large as some of their dildos. 

Chenle works in a second finger, curling them just right and striking Jisung’s prostate easily. Jisung moans, high in the back of his throat. He makes a choked noise, when Chenle massages it. Jisung whimpers, body twisting until Chenle lets up. He lets him catch his breath for a second, before adding a third. 

“Look at you.” It’s not so nice this time. “Fuck, you give in to anyone like this? You’re so easy.” 

Jisung whimpers again, hips jerking. Chenle forces them down with his free hand. 

“Quit squirming,” Chenle says. Jisung swallows, a dryness in his mouth. 

“S-sorry—” he chokes out. Chenle moves a hand from his hip to slap his thigh again. It’s nearly enough to make Jisung come on the spot but he barely doesn’t, instead the wind punched from him. 

He’s just caught his breath, just regained his bearings. “You ready?” Chenle asks. He leans over Jisung, pinching his cheeks in a damp hand. 

Jisung nods. “Y-yes, please. Chenle, I—” 

Chenle pats his cheek, settling back between Jisung’s legs. He lifts each of Jisung’s legs, spreading them. 

“We should get a spreader bar,” Chenle mutters. 

Jisung whimpers. “Please.” The anticipation is killing him. It feels as though his whole body is on fire, every nerve alert, his skin jumping each time Chenle touches him. Chenle takes Jisung’s hip in his hand, lining up his cock, murmuring one last “Breathe, Jisung,” before pushing in. 

It’s nearly blinding, almost painful, but instead, just pleasureful. Jisung has to fight to catch his breath. Chenle laughs. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “You can barely take it? Really? I’m not even that big.” 

Jisung whines, but even if Chenle’s being mean, he lets Jisung calm. Only once his breaths have steadied does Chenle fuck into him swiftly, finding a steady pace and sticking with it. One hand grips Jisung’s hip tight, the other holding Jisung’s tied wrists. 

And Jisung is undone. His jaw ajar, his body limp.

“Fuck,” Chenle hisses. “You look so fucking good like this, Jisung.” 

Jisung makes a soft noise. He’s almost floaty, tingly all over. His stomach coils. He tries to warn Chenle, but he can’t seem to form a word. He comes with a quiet whimper, nearly blacking out. Faintly, he can feel Chenle filling him up. 

Jisung comes around shortly, pulling his eyes open just as Chenle removes the blindfold. He smiles at Jisung. “Hey,” he says. 

Jisung smiles back, a little loopy, a little giggly. 

Chenle grins. “You’re cute,” he says. “Come back to Earth, okay? I’ll clean you up.” And he undoes the ties around Jisung’s wrists, tossing them to the side, kissing Jisung’s sweaty forehead. 

Jisung hums. He lets it leave slowly, the comfortable fuzziness, the warmth. When Chenle returns, he wipes Jisung down. 

“I’ll help you clean out later,” he says. He sits beside Jisung, taking each of his wrists and bending them gently in circles. 

Jisung smiles at him. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “That was good.” 

“Was it?” Chenle grins. “Good. And now we have sushi!” 

“That’s right.” Jisung’s smile widens. “Sushi you humiliated me with.” 

“I did not humiliate you. Even if I did, you like being humiliated.” 

Jisung does. “That’s not the point. It’s the principle.” 

Chenle chuckles. “Alright.” He drops Jisung’s wrists. “Let’s shower.” 

Jisung smiles, and lets Chenle drag him to the shower, where they’ll probably fuck again, a little softer, and then afterwards enjoy their food. 

Their shower is in fact nice. They don’t fuck, only kissing some, as Chenle washes Jisung’s hair and back for him, before Jisung mimics the motions in return. 

Jisung gently scrubs Chenle’s back with a shower poof. They exist in a comfortable silence, though Jisung’s focused on not letting the thoughts in his head grow too loud. He cares for Chenle. He was able to ignore it before, way before. Before Chenle dropped off the map for about a year, before returning without fanfare, only a little bit quieter. 

Jisung tries not to think about it. Tries not to pry too much. What happens in Chenle’s private life is none of Jisung’s business. They’re just fuckbuddies, Jisung tells himself, even if he knows that isn’t true. 

“You’re thinking,” Chenle murmurs. 

Jisung hums. “Did you see that new TV show?” 

Chenle chuckles. “You don’t even have a TV.” 

Jisung wrinkles his nose and sniffs. Maybe he’s catching a cold. 

“What are you thinking about?” Chenle asks. 

“Your little, brief period of radio silence.” Jisung knows Chenle, and knows how badly he prefers honesty. So, when Jisung can, he does his best to give it. 

Chenle hums. “Later,” he says. “When things are less … mellow.” 

Jisung doesn’t really know what that means. “Rinse off, you’re all soaped up.” 

Chenle turns, smiling at him lazily. “You go dry off,” he says. “I know how much you hate standing outside the water.” 

This is true. Jisung smiles. He pecks Chenle’s hair, and steps out from the curtain. He finishes drying off, passing Chenle his own towel when he exits some moments later. They get dressed, head out to the table to eat their sushi. Chenle grabs a deck of cards from Jisung’s living room and they play until Jisung’s nearly falling asleep. Eventually, Jisung naps, and Chenle goes home. 

After his nap, before he winds down, Jisung presses his finger into one of the bite marks on his chest. One of the ones Chenle left behind. Their arrangement certainly has its perks, but getting turned on every time he looks in the mirror, horny whenever he sees the marks around his wrists, that’s definitely not the best part of it. Honestly, it can be a little inconvenient. 

Not that that’s Chenle’s fault. He even suggested softer ties, or like those fluffy handcuffs. Jisung declined. He likes the marks. He likes feeling used. More importantly, he likes feeling like Chenle’s. 

Even if he isn’t. 

And maybe that’s where their arrangement fails. Jisung is terribly, hopelessly, deeply in love with his best friend and sex buddy. Not that ‘sex buddy’ even encapsulates half of what they’re doing. 

Jisung’s apartment is his own. His half-empty fridge, the closet filled with only his clothes, even if he’s tried to convince Chenle to leave a pair of sweats here, so he’d stop stealing Jisung’s, Chenle never agrees. Jisung wishes he would. Wishes he’d meld easily into Jisung’s life, more than he already has. Into his apartment, into his bedroom. But no, Chenle’s always just far enough away. 

And he cannot know, no. No, it was Chenle’s proposition, with Chenle’s strict rules. The moment one of them catches feelings, they have to stop. 

Jisung pulls a sleep shirt over his head. Not that he usually sleeps with one, just that he can’t bear to see it, to wish it, want it, and not be able to have it. 

Jisung learns that Chenle’s a switch exactly one week before the two-month anniversary of their sleeping together. Not that he’s keeping count, not that he’s paying attention. He just happened to remember because they started on April 20th, and 4/20 is the funny weed number, so yes, he remembered. That’s it, that’s the only reason. 

June brings with it this sweltering heat. A terrible, overbearing humidity. Jisung’s already regretting going out to lunch with Jaemin, just because leaving the house, walking to the restaurant, has already got him drenched in sweat. 

Nonetheless, he arrives, and finds Jaemin settled inside the small sandwich shop. Jisung groans as he drops into his seat. “So hot,” he mumbles. 

Jaemin laughs. “Jisung,” he says. “It’s not so bad.” 

Jisung glares at him. 

“It’s okay in your apartment at least, right? You have AC?” 

“Yes,” Jisung says. He sighs. 

“You’re lucky,” Jaemin says. “Chenle’s crapped out.” 

“What?!” Chenle’s apartment is far nicer than Jisung’s. 

Jaemin nods, sipping on his water. “He’s crashed at my place for the past two nights.” 

Something uncomfortable—Sticky, like the sweat on the back of his neck—settles under Jisung’s skin. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, really?” 

Jaemin nods. “He told me what you two have been having going on.” 

Jisung flushes. “Not so loud!” 

Jaemin laughs. “I’ve barely said anything!” He smiles. “Don’t worry. I just told him I was surprised, I didn’t know he liked to dom so much.” 

“Sorry?” Jisung’s no longer overwhelmingly hot. His hands feel clammy. “What do you mean? Isn’t he …” 

Jaemin’s turn to look confused. “What?” he says. “He’s a switch.” 

“He is?!” 

“You didn’t know?” Jaemin frowns. 

“W-well no!” Jisung frowns back. He thinks back to how it came up. They were friends before, of course. Jisung had expressed frustration with an ex who was super vanilla. Chenle just … offered. “I guess it never came up.” Jisung feels small, and sort of stupid. 

“Ji.” Jaemin’s voice is soft. Jisung hates it. He looks away. 

Jaemin chuckles. “So long as you’re both happy, that’s what matters most.” 

“I guess,” Jisung mumbles. 

“My silly Jisungie,” Jaemin says. “Don’t beat yourself up for not knowing. Chenle seemed very happy with what you two have going on. So just keep going as it’s been going, and that’s okay.” 

“What if I wanted to learn?” Jisung asks. 

“Learn?” Jaemin raises an eyebrow. 

“How to … you know.” 

“Dom?” Jaemin’s eyebrow arches further. “Like …” 

“Would he teach me?” 

“I think that’s a question best made for him, baby,” Jaemin says. “But he might. Chenle likes you a whole lot.” 

Not as much as Jisung needs him to. “Right.” Maybe if Jisung can dom, and Chenle can be a switch, then he will like Jisung as Jisung wishes he would. 

And Jisung does want to try domming. 

He thinks … 

Jisung’s AC is loud. In the heat of the summer, this isn’t a surprise. He’s just glad it’s in his main room, even if it means his bedroom gets a little bit hot. 

He doesn’t notice it, not unless it’s the middle of the night, and he’s just woken up drenched in sweat. This is one of those times. 

He went to bed early, as he rarely does. His head feels like a stupid mess and he can’t seem to chill out. Chenle’s consuming his thoughts, swallowing him whole. Jisung wants him so badly, needs him even more, he doesn’t know what to do. He has him, just not enough. Just barely. Jisung feels sick to his stomach. He shuffles out to his kitchen, grabbing a cup of water. Only then, does he see the movement underneath his door. Jisung leaps, dropping the cup—fortunately plastic—into the sink and scrambling to grab his phone. He only relaxes once he sees some unread texts from Chenle, a little while back. 

“can i come over,” they read. “jaemin said i can’t stay with him tonight (he wants to fuck jeno or wtv) and it’s so stupidly hot.” 

Jisung scowls, and stomps to the door. He throws it open, unsurprised to see a sheepish Chenle outside. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” Jisung drags him in. “Don’t do that. Call me next time. It’s near midnight, you freaking …” He groans. He wants to throttle him, just a little bit. 

“Sorry.” Chenle at least sounds a little apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I gave you a key!” 

“Ji, wouldn’t it have been worse if I just came in at midnight?” 

Jisung glares at him. Chenle chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll call you next time, okay?” 

“Okay,” Jisung mumbles. Even if, deep down, he’s glad Chenle’s here, glad he thought of him, glad he’s in his apartment. Jisung is itching. Itching to touch him, to take him into his arms. To kiss him. To hold him. To … 

“Do you have an air mattress?” Chenle yawns. 

Jisung scowls. “We can just share,” he mutters. 

“Share?” Chenle raises an eyebrow. “You want to share with me?”

Jisung gawks at him. “Are you stupid? Your dick’s been up my ass. What do you mean ‘do I want to share?’”  

Chenle snorts. “Fair. Mostly meant ’cause it’s hot, but fair.” 

Jisung sighs. “Come on.” He drags Chenle—wearing nothing but gym shorts and a tank-top—to his bedroom. They lie beside each other, an awkward foot between them. 

“You seem a little upset,” Chenle says. 

“I’m just cranky.” Jisung scowls. 

“About?” 

“It’s midnight.” 

Chenle hums. A silence falls over them. Jisung thinks he might maybe be able to doze off, when Chenle talks again. 

“Feels kinda weird,” he says. “Being in your bed just to sleep.”

“If you want to sleep with me, just say so,” Jisung grumbles. 

Chenle shrugs. “You just seem a little upset.” A pause. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” Jisung doesn’t. He couldn’t. Chenle wouldn’t understand. Jisung barely understands. Why has Chenle been pretending to only be a dom? Why didn’t he tell Jisung he likes to sub? Why didn’t Jisung know at all? 

Jisung can dom too then, right? 

”Jisung—” Jisung rolls over to face him. 

“Chenle,” Jisung says. “Shut up and sleep, or shut up and kiss me. You choose.” 

Chenle laughs a bit. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Let’s sleep.” 

“That’s your choice?!” 

Chenle splutters. “I thought that was the right choice!”

“You thought wrong.” Jisung shoots him a look. Chenle laughs. 

“Jisung,” Chenle says. “Hey, whatever it is, it's okay.” He takes Jisung’s face in his hands, giving his cheeks a squeeze. “It’s okay.” 

Jisung bites his cheek, shoving it all deep down. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Chenle smiles, but does as he says. He kisses Jisung softly, gently, as though maybe, in some miracle, he might love Jisung back. But he doesn’t, and Jisung knows he doesn’t, because there’s just no way. 

Jisung finally relaxes, even if only a little. He melts, kissing Chenle back, deepening the kiss. And when Chenle pulls away, chasing his lips.

Chenle chuckles. “You’re so easy.” 

Heat floods Jisung’s face. “Be nice,” he mumbles. 

“But you like it so much when I’m mean.” 

Jisung pouts, and Chenle coos. “I know,” he says. “My poor baby. It’s okay, we’ll make you feel better, right?” 

There’s already a fogginess to Jisung’s thoughts. He nods. 

“Good,” Chenle croons. He pushes Jisung onto his back, settling onto his lap. Jisung tries to push him off. “’S too hot.” But Chenle grabs his wrists, collecting them in one hand and pinning them above Jisung’s head. He leans over Jisung, eyes sparkling. Something hot pools in Jisung’s gut. He whimpers, as Chenle doesn’t kiss him again. 

“C’mon,” Jisung mumbles. “Gimme a kiss.” 

Chenle tilts his head. “Why should I?” 

Jisung’s cheeks flush. He can’t bring himself to answer, instead only pouting at Chenle. “C’mon.” 

Chenle laughs. He pinches Jisung’s face in his hand. “You’re so cute.” His fingers dig into Jisung’s cheeks, almost painfully. “So adorable.” He releases him, scooting slightly back in Jisung’s lap, just enough so that when he rolls his hips, their clothed cocks collide. Jisung whimpers, looking up at Chenle with wide eyes. 

“Lele.” Jisung’s pout deepens.

“You like it,” Chenle taunts. “You like when I’m mean. You like when I humiliate you. You like being at my mercy.” 

Jisung shakes his head, his heart in his throat. He likes it so much. 

“No?” Chenle grinds down particularly hard and Jisung groans, cock slowly fattening. “You don’t like it?” 

Jisung shakes his head quickly. 

Chenle tuts. He stops moving, sitting back on Jisung’s thighs, releasing his wrists. Jisung doesn’t move his hands, keeping them above him. “Well,” Chenle says. “I guess if you don’t like it …” 

Jisung nearly chokes. “I do.” 

Chenle tilts his head. “I thought you just said you didn’t?” 

“No, I—I do. Really, I—” 

“You do,” Chenle repeats. “Will you be good, then? Behave?” 

Jisung nods. 

“Okay,” Chenle says. He leaves Jisung’s lap. “Strip.” 

Jisung scrambles off the bed, quickly shedding his clothes. Chenle does the same, albeit slower. He stretches, and in the moonlight, streetlight, streaming in from the gaps in Jisung’s curtains, he looks nearly angelic. Jisung finds his breath taken away. Chenle spots him, where he’s sat on the bed, and he smirks. 

“Can I help you?” 

Jisung goes to speak but can’t, too starstruck, too focused on not professing his love then and there. Fuck, Jisung thinks, in a brief moment of mental clarity, Chenle’s beautiful. 

Chenle leans down, cupping his cheek with a hand. He searches Jisung’s eyes. “You’re too conscious,” he murmurs, before kissing Jisung strongly. Jisung moans, melting into the kiss. Chenle wastes no time parting Jisung’s lips with his tongue, licking into his mouth, swallowing Jisung’s moans. He wastes no time pressing Jisung back by his shoulders to sit properly on the bed, so Chenle can clamber into his lap. Chenle wraps his legs around Jisung’s waist, kissing him deeper and deeper. He rests a hand at the base of Jisung’s neck. Not pressing, not choking, just lingering. Even if Jisung wants it—deeply, deeply wants it—Chenle refuses to choke him properly, citing it as far too dangerous. 

But his hand there, even if it’s just resting, is enough to drag Jisung down, down, into a fuzzy warmth that envelopes him whole. He struggles to keep up with Chenle’s fierce kiss, as Chenle wraps a hand around his leaking cock and smears precome at the head. Jisung’s hips buck. He groans. 

“So sensitive,” Chenle croons. “So needy. What, you need me?” 

Jisung manages to pull open his heavy eyes to meet Chenle’s own. He nods. 

Chenle slaps his thigh and he moans. “Words.” 

“Yes,” Jisung says. “I need you.” 

Chenle smiles, all too proud. He pushes Jisung’s shoulder and Jisung lets him lay him against the mattress, adjusting them so Jisung’s head is on the pillow. Chenle returns to his lap, seated on his thighs, as he caresses Jisung’s chest, hand settling on his lower ribs. Chenle kisses him again. Jisung places his hands on Chenle’s waist, squeezing firmly so that he doesn’t tickle him. Chenle doesn’t like to be tickled. 

Chenle breaks the deep kiss, if only to move his mouth along Jisung’s jawline, nipping at the crook of it. Down his neck, before sinking his teeth in just below Jisung’s collarbone. Jisung jerks, moaning loudly. He’s so dizzy, a rushing in his ears, a fogginess in his head. He’s sure if he opened his eyes, his vision would blur. Chenle sucks a mark into his chest, as his other hand slides up Jisung’s chest, tweaking his nipple. Jisung whimpers, hips bucking up into Chenle. 

“Stay still,” Chenle says, just loud enough Jisung can hear him. Chenle takes his careful time, kissing down Jisung’s chest, biting a few marks into his pecs, before finally wrapping his lips around his nipple, sucking hard before pulling it gently with his teeth. Jisung arches his back, barely able to form a coherent thought. It almost feels as though he’s drowning. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin, slightly sticky, slightly uncomfortable. Jisung can’t even hear the AC anymore, no, not over Chenle, present and real before him. Not over his own labored breaths, rapid heartbeat. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Chenle murmurs. “Fuck.” 

Jisung can’t even make a sound. Chenle’s barely done a thing. Maybe he’s more wound up, pent up, than he thought he was. Maybe—

Chenle bites at his nipple again, this time as he trails his hand down Jisung’s stomach, his touch just too light. Jisung’s body spasms, flinching away from Chenle’s hold against his will. He jolts. Chenle slowly, agonizingly, trails a hand down to Jisung’s cock and wraps it around it. He presses his thumb into the slit and a moan is punched from him. Jisung whimpers, screwing his eyes shut, arching his back, pressing his hips into Chenle’s hold. 

“Jisung.” 

Jisung tries to steady his breaths. His hands fall away from Chenle, too heavy, even if all he wants to do is touch him, worship him, as Chenle has himself. He wants to kiss Chenle until it’s all he’s ever known, until the only word able to fall from his lips is Chenle’s name. 

“Hands above your head.” 

Jisung does as he says, gripping his wrist tightly. He feels even more exposed, even more at Chenle’s mercy. 

“Look at me.” 

Slowly, he opens his heavy eyes. Chenle hasn’t moved, simply resting his hand at the base of Jisung’s cock, straddling his thighs. His own cock stands proud, and Jisung has never wanted anymore more. His small waist, broader shoulders. His gaze is dark; he looks ethereal. Jisung is dizzy, drunk on pleasure. Drunk on Chenle. He needs more. 

Chenle strokes him once, carefully. Jisung tries to lift his hips into Chenle’s touch but Chenle stops. 

“No,” Chenle says. “Be still.” 

Jisung makes a choked noise, fingers digging into his wrist. Chenle strokes him again, slower this time, and Jisung has to fight to be still, has to gasp for breath. He needs more. He needs—

“Please.” He can barely utter the word. 

Chenle tuts. “Please what?” He squeezes the head of Jisung’s cock and Jisung’s whole body shudders. But Chenle doesn’t do any more than that. It’s like a vice, around his chest, this deep, carnal need. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” Chenle asks, sharper. He swipes over the head of Jisung’s cock in careful, slow circles. Jisung writhes, peering at Chenle through the tears in his lashes. He can barely see him, his vision so blurry. He can barely think, can’t seem to utter any other words. Jisung’s in a little too deep. 

Chenle shushes him. “Hey.” His hand leaves Jisung’s cock and Jisung sobs. “Jisung, breathe.” Chenle places his hand on Jisung’s chest, pressing just firm enough. Jisung heaves a great breath, blinking quickly. 

Chenle shushes him again. “Hey, hey, breathe. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

Jisung hadn’t even realized he’d lost control of it. He looks at Chenle, looks at the worry etched into his features, and he finally breathes. 

“There you go.” Chenle’s voice is soothing and soft, even if there’s a faint tremor to it. “There you go, sweetheart.” 

Jisung sighs, sinking into the sheets. He moves his wrists, taking Chenle’s shaking hands. “Sorry,” he says. 

 Chenle scowls. He crosses his arms, taking his hands back. “You should’ve tapped out!” He slips off of Jisung, sitting to the side. 

“Sorry.” 

“You scared me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jisung props himself up, sitting. “Chenle, I didn’t mean to not tap out, really. I … I honestly didn’t notice.” 

Chenle huffs. “Don’t do that. Don’t—Just don’t. You scared the shit out of me.” He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. “You have to tell me when you need to stop.” 

“I didn’t think I needed to stop.” 

Chenle glares at him. 

“Lele.” Jisung rests a hesitant hand on his shoulder. When Chenle doesn’t flinch, he slides it over, taking both Chenle’s shoulders in his hands, in a sort of half-hug. “I’m okay. You’re okay. You caught me, you had me, okay? It’s okay.” 

“What if I hadn’t noticed? What if—” 

Jisung chuckles. “You did, though,” he says. “You did notice, and you did catch me when I fell, and I know you always will, because I trust you, so it’s okay.” 

Chenle sniffs. Jisung coos. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s put our boxers back on and lie down. We can cuddle until it gets too hot and gross and sticky.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Enough of that.” Jisung pulls Chenle off the bed. They get semi-dressed and lay back down. Jisung turns on the fan by his bedside and they curl up together. Jisung gives Chenle a quick kiss before pulling him into his arms. 

“Sorry.” 

Jisung smacks him. “Goodnight,” he says. 

“Goodnight,” Chenle mumbles back. 

Jisung awakens that morning to an empty bed and rain pattering against his window. The blinds have been opened, but it’s darker out. He scratches his chest, sitting up on the mattress, listening for some, any sounds of life. 

Did Chenle leave? 

Chenle never leaves the next morning. 

A sickness settles in Jisung’s stomach. He gets out of bed and checks his phone to no texts. So he gets up, moving out to the kitchen. Maybe Chenle left a note? Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Chenle never leaves the next morning. 

Jisung steps into the kitchen, spots something large out of the corner of his eye, and startles awfully bad. He stumbles back, hugging his arms to his chest, spotting Chenle, sat at the kitchen island, unmoving, a bit of a faraway look in his eyes. He’s nursing what seems to be a mug of tea. He moves when Jisung catches his attention. 

“Oh,” he says. “Good morning.” 

Jisung scowls. “That’s twice in twelve hours you’ve scared me.” 

“Yeah? Not as bad as you did me!” 

Jisung pouts. “Lele. That was not on purpose.” 

Chenle won’t look at him, his cheeks a furious red. 

“Lele.” 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard, I—” Chenle slips from his seat, starting away from Jisung. 

“Chenle!” 

Chenle stops moving, his back to Jisung. 

“Chenle, you didn’t hurt me, I’m not upset. You did well, okay? So … you know, chill out.” 

Chenle hugs himself. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Sorry I didn’t cook anything. ’S not like you have any food.” 

Jisung laughs. “I know I don’t,” he says. “We—I’ll go grocery shopping this week.” 

“Fine.” 

“Sit.” 

Chenle sits. 

Jisung has to tell him he wants to try it. He sits across from Chenle. 

“Aren’t you gonna get coffee or—” 

“I want to try domming.” Jisung spits it out. 

Chenle’s reaction is almost comical. His eyes widen. His jaw drops. “Really? You—What?!” 

Jisung shrugs. “You know,” he says. “I thought it could be neat.” 

Chenle stares at him. “Seriously?” When Jisung doesn’t instantly reply—“You’re serious. You want to dom?! What the fuck! Since fucking when?!” 

Jisung flushes. He shrugs. He can’t tell Chenle it’s since he’s learned Chenle’s a switch. 

“Jisung,” Chenle says. “Jisung, seriously, you have to actually want to.” 

“I do!” 

Chenle eyes him. “I mean it. This isn’t like—Like I don’t want you to be stuck doing something if you don’t really really want to.” 

Jisung can’t look him in the eye. Chenle will instantly know he’s full of shit. 

“Sit down,” Chenle says. Jisung sighs, and sits at the counter beside him. “What’s the real reason?” 

Jisung won’t look at him. 

“Jisung.” Chenle’s voice is firm.  

“Jaemin told me you were a switch,” Jisung mumbles. 

Chenle scowls. He mutters something under his breath. Jisung only catches the words “stupid,” and “Jaemin.” 

Jisung frowns. “Did you not want me to know?” 

Chenle takes a breath. “I don’t want you to dom just because sometimes I like to sub. Don’t put yourself in an uncomfortable position because of me, especially not without telling me. That’s not fair.” 

Jisung pouts. “But Lele—” 

“No.” Chenle glares at him. “Don’t ‘Lele’ me. I mean it. If you want to try because you want to try, and you’d try with anyone, that’s different.” Chenle crosses his arms. He sighs, shutting his eyes. “This is serious stuff. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

Jisung doesn’t answer. 

“Besides.” Chenle sits up a little taller. “If I want to sub, I can go to someone else.” 

Jisung scowls, turning away from Chenle on instinct so he can’t see his face. He allows himself no more than two seconds to compose himself. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s right, you can.” 

Chenle’s eyeing him. “Does that bother you?” he asks. 

“No,” Jisung says, trying to keep his voice steady. Chenle can’t know. Jisung doesn’t want this to stop. He knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s being cruel, and a little fucked up, but he isn’t ready just yet. Let him at least pretend to be Chenle’s once more, or twice more, or until Jisung is no longer greedy. “No, it doesn’t. Just don’t give me an STI.” 

Chenle looks away. “Obviously not.” 

Jisung’s dying to ask who. Who would he even sub for? Images flash in Jisung’s mind. Chenle, always so proud, confident, even in the bedroom. Would he unravel? Cry? Chenle, at his mercy. Jisung allows himself to consider it, just briefly. The Chenle in his mind writhes beneath him, breaths high-pitched and whiny. He’s begging. 

“You … good?” the Chenle across from him asks. “Why are you making that face?” 

“You’re sure I can’t dom?” Jisung blurts. 

Chenle scoffs. “I just told you! No!” 

Jisung pouts. “Come on,” he mumbles. He takes Chenle’s hand, fiddling with it. Chenle has such nice hands. Thin fingers, almost dainty. The beds of his nails are bitten at and raw, but Jisung doesn’t even mind. 

Maybe it would be nice to watch Chenle fall apart, for once. 

Maybe Jisung is a little hungry. 

“What are you thinking about?” Chenle asks. “You’re making me nervous.” 

“Nothing,” Jisung says. 

“Liar.” 

“Fine.” Jisung glances at him, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m thinking about dominating you.” 

The effect is immediate. Chenle’s mouth drops open, the blush that was on his ears (since when?) spreads to his cheeks, coloring it all a rose pink. Chenle swallows, his gulp audible. This only spurs Jisung on. 

“What?” Jisung asks. “Do you like that?” 

“Jisung.” Chenle’s tone is sharp, his words accompanied by alarm bells. He’s trying to retain control. 

Jisung has never, ever, ever wanted to take control from someone so badly. It’s like someone’s lit a fire inside him, something deep churning in his gut. A want he hasn’t felt before. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” Chenle scowls. “I said no.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says. “What if I said I thought more about it and I want it for other reasons now too.” 

Chenle’s flush deepens. “Like what?” he shoots back. 

Jisung shrugs. “Dunno.” His gaze drops to Chenle’s lips, drawn to a frown, but still as soft-looking as ever. Jisung is struck with the need to kiss him. He meets Chenle’s eyes again. He looks … 

“Go on.” 

Jisung cups the back of Chenle’s neck and kisses him firmly. He grabs Chenle’s hand, where he was fiddling with it before, and holds it tight before Chenle can pull it back. He tangles their fingers. 

Chenle kisses him back just as strongly, landing his hand on Jisung’s thigh, squeezing. Jisung tilts his head to deepen the kiss, tangling his hand in Chenle’s hair. His mind is running. Chenle, Chenle. Chenle begging. For more, for him, Jisung doesn’t even care. He needs him badly, needs to watch him fall apart, relax for once, dammit. Unwind, untether. Jisung has never felt this way about anyone. It seems thinking about this was a mistake. 

Was it? Jisung could have him, right? 

If Chenle lets him … 

Jisung pulls Chenle back, by a hand in his hair. Chenle makes a soft sound, his grip on Jisung’s thigh tightening. “Well?” 

Chenle’s gaze meets his, through thick lashes, his head tilted slightly back. “You’re a bastard.” 

Jisung can’t help it. He smirks. He should feel uncertain, woefully out of his element. And yet, he thinks, he’s watched Chenle do this how many times?

He brings Chenle back for another kiss, tugging his hair hopefully just hard enough. Chenle melts into him, gripping Jisung’s hand and thigh firmly. Jisung presses his tongue into Chenle’s mouth, tasting him. Chenle tastes faintly sweet, like the sugar from his tea. Jisung feels dizzy with want, with need. Fuck. 

Fuck. 

If he wasn’t already in love. 

But is love even enough to describe it? Jisung would argue it’s deeper than that. You can love many things. Movies, songs, books. No, what Jisung feels for Chenle is more than the fleeting emotions he has for other trivial things. This is intrinsic.

Jisung kisses him harder, until it’s almost as though he cannot breath, suffocated by desire. Chenle’s kisses have grown oh, just slightly weaker. He exhales sharply each time Jisung licks into his mouth. Jisung feels drunk. He releases his grip on Chenle’s hair slightly, just so he can pull back, slip out of his chair and pull Chenle up. Chenle squeaks, nearly falling into Jisung’s chest. He steadies himself, standing up straight. Jisung laughs, feeling a little more sober. 

“You okay?” 

“What has gotten into you?” Chenle asks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes a little foggy, his breathing somewhat heavy. 

Jisung shrugs, looking him up and down. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks so red, his hair a little messed up. Fuck, Jisung is hungry. 

Jisung swallows, a lump thick in his throat. “I need you,” he mutters. “I thought about it too hard.” 

“What? Thought about what?” 

“You.” 

Chenle gives him an incredulous look. “What? Jisung, you—” Jisung just can’t help himself. He kisses Chenle once more, no softer than before. Chenle makes a surprised, muffled noise, but, after a moment, kisses Jisung back with a little more force. Jisung grabs Chenle’s hips, pulling him flush against him. Chenle places his hand on Jisung’s chest. He presses away. 

“Jisung,” Chenle says between kisses. “Jisung, we should—” Jisung kisses along his jaw. “Dammit,” Chenle hisses. “We should talk about this.” Jisung kisses at the crook where his jaw meets his neck. 

“Jisung.” Chenle’s voice is a little breathy. Jisung sucks on the soft skin of his throat and he moans softly. “Jisung, c’mon.” 

Jisung reaches the base of his throat. Chenle’s wearing a loose tank of Jisung’s, fortunately. He smells nice. Jisung is a little dizzy. He nips at his collarbone and Chenle whimpers, hips pressing forward. Jisung digs his fingers into Chenle’s skin, sliding his hands under his tank.  

“Jisung,” Chenle gasps. “Fuck.” 

“C’mon,” Jisung mumbles. He stops kissing, instead nuzzling at Chenle’s neck, as Chenle catches his breath. “I really want to.” 

“I-I can see that.” Chenle’s hand finds Jisung’s hair, gently scratching his scalp. “I don’t know, we need to talk.” 

Jisung pulls away to pout. Chenle seems serious. Jisung really wouldn’t want to push him, to ruin things, but … 

“C’mon,” Jisung says. “Please?” 

Chenle purses his lips. “I don’t … I don’t know.” 

“Why not?” 

“Why do you want to?” 

“I told you, I thought about you too much.” 

“That doesn’t tell me much, sweetheart.” Chenle caresses his face, hand landing on his cheek. Jisung flushes. How did he lose control so quick? He almost wants to give in, to let Chenle take care of him, as he always has. Though he knows he’d make Chenle feel good. Jisung wants to make Chenle feel good. Always. 

He shrugs. “Just … you know. Thought about how nice it might be to see you …” Jisung’s mouth dries at the thought of it. Chenle. Chenle, Chenle, at his mercy. Flushed and needy. Fuck. “You know … relax for once.” 

Chenle’s gaze grows dark. “Say more.” 

Jisung avoids his eyes. He shrugs again. “Relax, let go, you know?” 

“Baby.” Chenle coos. “You think you can dominate me but you can’t even tell me how?” 

Jisung flushes, a sudden blurriness to his vision. Chenle would look so good beneath him, writhing as Jisung fucks into him. Jisung wants to hear his moans, whines and whimpers. Chenle has a beautiful voice. He’s sensitive. Jisung wants to watch his skin turn red and flushed, from Jisung pressing into him too hard. Wants to … 

He blinks, meeting Chenle’s strong gaze. Chenle, who never wavers, who’s always prideful and composed. Jisung doesn’t know what strikes him—maybe it’s want, maybe it’s need, maybe it’s hunger—but he speaks certainly, maybe even a little mean. “I want to make you beg,” Jisung says. He stands a little taller, swallowing any shame. “I want to fuck you until you cry, u-until you barely know your own name. I want to hear you moan and whine a-and—Fuck!” Jisung feels insane. “Chenle, I need you so badly. I want to take care of you like you have me all this time. I want to make you feel good.” 

Chenle doesn’t seem to waver, but he swallows. “Is that so?” 

Jisung stands as tall as he can. “Yes.” 

Chenle raises an eyebrow. “Really now?” 

Jisung nods. “Yes.” 

“You can’t back out,” Chenle says. ”Y-you have to commit. Aftercare, cleaning me up, fucking me until I’m satisfied." 

“I want to.” 

Chenle nods, his ears dark red, his gaze slightly unfocused. “Fine.” Chenle takes a deep breath. “My safe word is ‘dolphin.’ Now fucking prove it.” 

Jisung has to stop himself from cheering. Instead, he grabs Chenle by the waist and pulls him in for a kiss, leaning forward so Chenle’s back arches. He slides a hand under Chenle’s tank, keeping his other firmly on his hip. Jisung licks into Chenle’s mouth, swallowing his quiet moan. Chenle presses into Jisung with his whole body. Jisung moves forward, until Chenle’s back collides with the wall, and Jisung’s able to push him to it. Chenle whimpers into Jisung’s mouth, hand coming up to fist in his hair. 

Jisung kisses him hard, keeping Chenle’s hips firmly in place when they jerk. He pulls back to kiss down Chenle’s neck, sucking a mark below his collarbone. Chenle groans, mumbling “Fuck.” 

Jisung pulls away, just to slide Chenle’s tank off. Chenle lifts his arms easily, cooperative, and Jisung pulls it over his head, throwing it off to who knows where before wrapping his arms around Chenle’s waist and kissing him again. He splays his hand against Chenle’s lower back, sliding the other down to cup his ass through his flimsy basketball shorts, squeezing it. 

Chenle whimpers, as Jisung tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. And, when Jisung pulls back to nip at his neck: “Fuck.” 

Jisung feels a little dazed. He pulls Chenle close by the hand on his ass, grinding into him, relishing in the fact that Chenle’s already nearly fully hard. Fuck, because of Jisung? He could go insane with this kind of power. 

Jisung’s never been a control freak. This may make him a control freak. He has to remind himself to remain steady, to stay focused on how Chenle’s doing. This is all about Chenle, after all. 

He slides the hand which was on Chenle’s back around his waist, tracing along his ribs, moving up his chest. Chenle shivers as he does, his body twitching. Fuck, he’s so fucking sensitive. Jisung’s gonna go insane. Jisung tweaks Chenle’s nipple as he sinks his teeth in near Chenle’s collarbone, and he cries out, grappling at Jisung’s back. His hand finds Jisung’s hair and tugs. His hips jerk into Jisung’s own. Jisung groans, twisting Chenle’s nipple, pinching it a little harder, as he faintly remembers the time Chenle told him he likes pain. 

Chenle moans aloud, using the hand in Jisung’s hair to tug him back forcefully, breathing heavily. “F-fuck.” He drops his hands, moving Jisung’s from his chest. 

“Are you—” 

“Shut up.” Chenle catches his breath. “I didn’t use my safeword s-so shut up and kiss me, I-I—Fuck.” 

Jisung goes to kiss him but pauses. “What do you say?” 

Chenle groans. He reaches for Jisung, but Jisung catches his wrist, grabbing the other as well and lifting them above their heads, pinning them to the wall. Chenle’s gaze darkens, but he doesn’t say a word. 

Jisung has never wanted to hear someone beg more. Chenle, with his pretty voice, and his pretty face, and his pretty red cheeks. Jisung wants to ruin him. “Well?” 

“P-please,” Chenle stammers. “Please kiss me.” 

Jisung smiles. “Good kitty.” And he slams his lips into Chenle’s. He doesn’t mean to call him kitty, it really just slips out (Chenle’s such a cat!) but if Chenle’s moan, if the way his cock, pressed into Jisung’s, twitches, strained against Chenle’s shorts, is anything to go by, Jisung would say he likes it. 

“Yeah?” Jisung has to know. “You like being called kitty?” Jisung 

Chenle whimpers. He nods. 

“Words.” 

“Fuck you,” Chenle says on an exhale. Jisung tightens his grip on his wrist. He can’t bring it himself to scold him, or do anything more cruel, not when this just gives him another chance to prove himself. Chenle tugs against Jisung’s hand but Jisung doesn’t let up.

“Fine. Yes, I liked it. Are you happy? I hope you’re fucking—” 

Jisung kisses him. Their mouths are slick with spit, it’s messy and a little gross. Jisung lets his free hand roam Chenle’s body, loving the way he twitches, nearly jerking away from Jisung’s touch, only because he’s just so fucking sensitive. 

Jisung feels dizzy, a little drunk. Drunk on Chenle, how good he smells, how he feels. On power, control. Jisung releases a wrist. He needs Chenle in his bed now. He pulls back, tugging him into the bedroom. Chenle lets out a little “oh!” Jisung thinks he’s too lucid. 

They reach Jisung’s room and Jisung gives him a long, languid kiss, before thumbing at the waistband of Chenle’s shorts. Chenle catches Jisung’s eye and smiles before quickly taking them off, kicking them away. 

“Boxers too,” Jisung says. 

Chenle hesitates, so Jisung sheds his own boxers. He never did properly get dressed. Chenle does the same, and their gazes meet. 

Chenle really is beautiful, Jisung thinks. Pretty, dark eyes. A nice downturned nose. Rosy cheeks, one of the brightest smiles Jisung’s ever seen. Fuck, he’s so hooped. 

Briefly, Jisung allows himself to wonder what it would be like to make love to him. 

He kisses Chenle again, unintentionally a little softer, as he pushes him to the mattress to lean against the headboard. They make out, just a bit softer than before. A simple press of lips against lips. Jisung moves to sit between Chenle’s legs, pushing them open. Jisung doesn’t even realize he’s let up, until Chenle grabs him by the hair and murmurs “I thought you were proving yourself?” 

Fuck. He’s right. The image of Chenle’s tearstained face burns itself into his brain. Jisung kisses Chenle again, because what else would he do? What else could he ever dream of doing? 

He settles between Chenle’s legs, pulling Chenle slightly in his lap. Chenle’s legs resting over Jisung’s, their knees bent, just overlapping. Jisung kisses him, as he takes his hands, tracing them along Chenle’s hips. Sliding one up his side, the other down his thigh. Chenle shivers, his hands wrapping around Jisung’s neck, finding his hair. Jisung trails his hand down to Chenle’s abdomen, pressing lightly, tracing along the skin, moving closer and closer to Chenle’s cock, but never touching. Chenle’s breaths grow heavier and heavier, soft noises falling from his lips. 

He runs his fingers along Chenle’s inner thigh, pinching and prodding him. Chenle squeaks, but doesn’t beg. So Jisung doesn’t touch. Instead, he kisses the column of Chenle’s neck, giving him the chance to speak if he wants. Chenle doesn’t, only whimpering and whining. He brings his other hand up to Chenle’s nipple, rubbing his thumb along it. Chenle moans. “Fuck.” He tries moving his hips into Jisung’s hold, but Jisung moves, pressing Chenle’s hips to the mattress. Chenle groans. 

“Fucking Hell, Jisung, if you don’t—” Jisung pinches his nipple and he squeaks. Chenle swats at his hand and Jisung grabs his wrist again, pinning it to the headboard behind Chenle. 

“Don’t,” Jisung murmurs. 

Chenle shudders, his eyes fogged over as he meets Jisung’s gaze. Jisung finds his confidence. He wants to make Chenle feel good. 

“Be a good kitty.” 

Chenle whimpers, eyes falling shut, brows knitting together. His hips jerk into Jisung’s hand. “Jisung,” he whines. “C’mon.” 

Jisung doesn’t reply. Instead, he squeezes his wrist, moving his other hand slowly back, though still not touching. 

Chenle whines, nearly writhing in Jisung’s hold. Fuck. 

But Jisung doesn’t budge. 

Chenle presses his lips together, as Jisung traces near his cock, running his fingers along his lower abdomen. “Fuck.” His voice breaks. “Jisung, p-please.” He gasps, taking a shuddering breath. “Please touch me.” 

“Good kitty.” 

Jisung wraps a hand around Chenle’s cock, using his thumb to smear precome over the head of it. Chenle moans, high pitched and breathy, his eyes still shut, eyelashes fanning prettily against his cheeks. His body jerks, his other hand grasping at the sheets to little avail; they’re too tight to the bed. 

Jisung doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anyone more incredible. 

And Jisung just pumps his cock. Slowly, but just fast enough. He wants to hear Chenle beg. He wants to see him cry. To make him cry. 

“Jisung, pl—” Chenle grunts, as Jisung squeezes the head of his cock, pressing his thumb into the slit. Chenle cries out. “Fuck!” And when Jisung slides his hand back down, he sobs. 

“Look at me,” Jisung murmurs. 

Chenle whimpers, shaking his head, leaving it turned to the side. His eyes stay shut. Jisung drops his wrist, still slowly stroking his cock, to pinch Chenle’s cheeks, turning his face back to him. Chenle’s eyes flutter open, his head tilted slightly back. His eyes are filled with tears, as they meet Jisung’s own. 

“Fuck,” Jisung mutters. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He can’t help it. He wants to make Chenle feel good. Even if he loves watching him writhe, watching him squirm, above all that, Jisung lives to please. 

He strokes Chenle quicker and his body jerks again, eyes squeezing again shut. 

“No,” Jisung says. “Look at me.” 

Chenle gasps, his thighs trembling badly. Jisung lowers his hand from Chenle’s face and Chenle grabs it with his own, nearly crushing Jisung’s fingers. Jisung strokes him quicker. His jaw drops, his brows furrow. 

“Baby.” 

Chenle looks at him, as the first few tears roll down his cheeks. 

Jisung thinks he could come on the spot, untouched. He twists his wrist, squeezing at the head of Chenle’s cock. Chenle nearly pulls away from Jisung. “Ji, I-I’m gonna—”

Jisung shushes him. “I know,” he says. “You’re doing so well, Lele. Can you do it?” 

Chenle squeezes his hand tighter. He nods rapidly, his whole body trembling now. “Oh, oh, oh fuck. Jisung, I-I’m gonna—” 

“Come on,” Jisung murmurs. “Come for me, kitty.” And he pecks Chenle’s cheek. 

Chenle comes instantly with a series of high-pitched moans. His hips jerk, as come spurts from his cock, covering Jisung’s hand and his stomach. He writhes beneath Jisung, sobbing, more tears streaming down his pretty pink cheeks. Jisung could devour him. 

Jisung strokes him through it, until Chenle’s breathing slows, his grip on Jisung’s hand easing. Jisung smiles, feeling so very satisfied, even if he hasn’t even been touched. Chenle takes a breath, sniffling. He blinks. 

“Hey,” Jisung says. “You okay?” 

Chenle smiles at him, and nods. He seems a little loopy, which Jisung gets. Jisung chuckles. “You’re so cute.” 

“’Bout you?” 

“What about me?” Jisung asks. He doesn’t even feel like he needs to nut. That was so rewarding. He just wants to focus on Chenle. 

“I’m okay,” Jisung says. 

Chenle pouts. Honest to God, pouts. Jisung laughs. “Let me grab a rag. You come back to me, okay?” 

Chenle’s pout deepens when Jisung goes to slide off the bed. He catches Jisung’s wrist and mumbles. “Don’t go.” 

“Chenle,” Jisung says. “Baby, I’m just gonna clean up.” 

“You haven’t fucked me yet, though.” Chenle bats his eyelashes. 

Jisung’s throat is suddenly dry. “W-well, I—” 

Chenle’s gaze grows dark. “I told you you had to commit.” His gaze drops. “Your dick’s still hard.” 

Shit. The tears are drying against Chenle’s cheeks. Jisung thought he was fulfilled, thought he was satiated. No, it seems, with Chenle, he can never get enough. 

He laughs a little, swallowing the lump in his throat. “My hand, it’s … Your stomach, too …” He trails off. Chenle’s just got this look in his eyes. Maybe he’s hungry, too. 

Jisung hasn’t fucked Chenle in a while. He’s probably really … 

Jisung is a little dizzy. He stumbles back to bed, as though in a daze. Wiping his hands on the sheets, Jisung grabs Chenle’s face and kisses him. Fuck. Chenle’s lips are drier than before, no longer wet. Jisung should fix that. Holy shit, he needs him so badly. 

Chenle whines into his mouth, and it goes straight to Jisung’s cock.

“Fuck,” Chenle murmurs. “You’re so easy.” 

Jisung slaps his thigh in response and Chenle moans, throwing his head back. Jisung’s heart hammers in his chest. He’s feeling emotions he can’t even conceptualize. He wants to make Chenle—

It’s as though his head is static. He has never, ever, ever needed someone so deeply. 

Jisung sits further back on the bed, shuffling back. He’s quiet. Focused. Jisung takes Chenle by the ankles and tugs him down the bed. Chenle squeaks, moving easily down the mattress to lie flat on his back, his chest rising and falling quickly. His nipples, once pretty pink, have darkened from Jisung’s toying with them. Jisung is losing his mind. 

Chenle’s eyes are hazy. 

Jisung’s jaw nearly drops. Instead, he smirks. Mind running miles a minute, Jisung feels like a pervert, when all he wants to see is red on Chenle’s skin, like the mark that’s bloomed from his palm not three minutes prior. Fuck, he’s losing his mind. Goddammit Chenle. 

Jisung doesn’t want to hit him. 

Right? 

His reactions are just so strong … his skin so red … Jisung is dizzy with want. Fuck, he’s such a bad fucking—

“Jisung.” Chenle’s word nearly slurs. “Focus.” 

He nearly slips, the ground taken from underneath him. The world slows.

“Jisung,” Chenle whines. Chenle, always able to read him, apparently even when his brain is mush. “Fucking—fuck me already!” 

Jisung glances at him. He really is incredible. The flush from his cheeks has spread to his chest, staining his pale skin pink. His eyes are glossy, his lips slightly parted. Jisung places his hands on him on impulse, caressing Chenle’s thighs, pushing them apart. Chenle shivers. 

“Good,” Chenle murmurs, his head falling back against the pillow. “Prove yourself.” 

“I think you’re talking too much.” Jisung reaches to grab lube from the bedside table. He settles back between Chenle’s legs, tracing his hand along his inner thigh. Jisung gives him a pinch and Chenle squeaks again. 

“Don’t tease.” 

“You like when I tease.” Jisung tries his hardest to ignore Chenle’s leaking cock, where it’s hardened up again, resting against his stomach, as it rises and falls. It proves difficult. Jisung wants Chenle so bad. Wants to take him into his mouth, stroke him to completion. But he’s already done that. Now it’s time for a greater task. 

Jisung squeezes a bit of lube on his fingers, warming it up between them. He must be too focused—

“Say s’mething,” Chenle mumbles. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters. “You look so good like this. I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Chenle’s hand squeezes the top sheet, crumpling it. “Be mean.” 

Jisung pauses, where he’s about to stick his finger into him. Be mean. Chenle’s words bounce around his skull like a ping-pong ball. Be mean. Chenle wants it. He must really want it. Does Jisung want it too? 

He looked so pretty with tears on his cheeks, with red-rimmed eyes. Jisung’s dick twitches. 

“I’ll try.”

Chenle hums. He giggles. “All I’d ask.” 

Jisung rests the outside of his palm on Chenle’s thigh, tracing it down to his perineum, watching as Chenle’s body twitches, listening as Chenle whimpers. Slowly, he circles Chenle’s hole with a finger, before slowly, carefully, pressing in. Jisung’s fucked Chenle before, but usually Chenle rides him. Having Chenle beneath him, laid out before him. Jisung’s cock is so hard it’s nearly painful. All he can seem to do is stare, focus. Chenle’s pink everywhere, the flush on his chest, his elbows and needs, even his freaking—

Chenle whimpers, as Jisung presses in, cheek pressed to the pillows, stacked two high so Jisung can better see his face. Jisung goes slow, pumping it in and out. Chenle moans suddenly, just as Jisung’s finger hits his prostate. His whole body jerks, tugging the sheets up, back arching. Jisung nearly laughs. 

If he’d known having Chenle at his mercy was this exhilarating, this intoxicating … 

Jisung is dizzy. He’s about to put in another without asking, but pauses, glancing at Chenle. He’ll wait until Chenle asks, until he needs it. Until he begs. 

It doesn’t take long for Chenle to start twisting on the sheets. “Jisung,” he says, nearly gasping for breath. “Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“P-please.” 

Jisung tilts his head. “I don’t know what you want unless you tell me.” 

Chenle groans. Jisung stops moving his finger. “Jisung, c’mon.” 

“You wanted me to be mean.” Jisung’s heart won’t stop pounding in his chest. He doesn’t even feel that apologetic for it, not when watching Chenle like this is so … 

Chenle whines. “Jisung!” 

“Beg.” 

Chenle’s thighs shake. “I’ve been begging!” 

“I still don’t know what you want.” 

Chenle’s shoulders shake. Briefly, Jisung’s worried he’s gone too far. Until Chenle hiccups, and chokes out: “Your hands, please. J-just prep me already.” 

“Good kitty.” Jisung’s dick is so hard. He feels faint, just at the thought of fucking Chenle. He’s never seen him like this. He needs to be able to see him like this again, but Jisung can’t even think about that now, far too focused on the Chenle before him, on the moment they’re living in. 

Jisung wiggles in a second finger. Chenle throws his head back against the pillow, exposing his very pretty throat. Fuck. Jisung has never, ever wished more than Chenle were okay with choking. All Jisung can seem to think about is how pale it is, about how his fingers may leave marks, about—

He fits his second finger in all the way, giving Chenle a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck,” Chenle whispers. “Your fingers are so fucking big.”

“You like them?” 

Chenle nods. “Mhm.” 

Jisung grins. “So maybe we just get off here then?” 

Chenle’s eyes fly open, meeting Jisung’s gaze. “Jisung.” 

Jisung laughs. He coos. “Lele,” he says. “You need me that badly?” He bumps Chenle’s prostate and he jolts. Jisung bites back another laugh, massaging gently, relishing in how Chenle reacts. 

Fuck. This is better than anything Jisung’s ever dreamt of. He feels drunk, high, on whatever endorphins or whatever or—fucking Hell, Jisung can’t think right now. 

Chenle makes a soft noise. “I-I—” Jisung presses into his prostate hard and Chenle moans loudly, arching from the bed. “Fuck!” 

Fuck. Jisung can’t take this. He scoots forward so he can sit soundly on his knees, bringing his hand to his own cock. Jisung takes a shuddering breath, stroking slowly. He doesn’t think he’s been quite so sensitive, so turned on, in his entire life. Jisung lets out a soft moan, just releasing a little tension. 

“W-well?” Jisung says. “Do you?” 

Chenle’s unfocused gaze meets Jisung’s. “You mean ’s not obvious?” 

Jisung tilts his head, slowing his fingers. 

His reaction comes instantly. “Fuck!” Chenle cries out. “Fuck, fine, I need you, Jisung! I need you so bad. Please—” Chenle sobs. “Please fuck me. I’ve been good, just please, please—I—” His voice breaks, tears streaming down his cheeks. Jisung is so—

He shushes Chenle. “Relax,” Jisung murmurs. “Breathe. Can I put in a third?” 

Chenle sniffs. He nods. “Please,” he says in a small voice. 

Jisung does as he says, pumping his fingers. He should do a fourth but … “Do you want one more?” 

“J-just fuck me, please. Please, Jisung, please, I—” Jisung shushes him. 

“Hey,” Jisung says, anxiety faintly lingering under his skin. “Breathe, okay? I need you to breathe.” 

Chenle shuts his eyes, catching his breath. 

“I’m pulling my fingers out,” Jisung mutters. And, slowly, he lines his cock up with Chenle’s hole. Jisung could black out. He nearly does, as he presses the tip to it. Chenle jolts, nodding quickly. 

“What do you say, kitty?” 

“Please.” Chenle’s voice is a little hoarse, a little broken. Jisung smiles. He presses a kiss to the inside of Chenle’s knee and slowly, agonizingly so, pushes him. Jisung thinks he actually does black out for a brief moment. Chenle’s tight, he’s so tight, the way he’s hugging, squeezing Jisung being nearly too much to bear. 

“Fuck,” Jisung mutters. “You feel so good, Lele.” 

Chenle whimpers. There’s such a dazed look in his eye. Jisung doesn’t know if Chenle’s ever been so beautiful. And Chenle’s always beautiful. 

“Hands above your head,” Jisung says. Chenle glances at him, then does as he says, a little slow. Jisung smiles, all too fond. He takes Chenle’s wrists in his hand, leaning over Chenle. Propped up with his other arm, he grounds his knees, and, once Chenle’s calmed enough, snaps his hips swiftly. 

Chenle screams. Jisung sets a brutal pace, going quicker than he’d like to. He’d love to take it slow, to tease Chenle, to make him bawl, but he just can’t help himself. He needs Chenle more than anyone. 

Moans spill from Chenle’s lips, his jaw slack, body lax. Jisung drops Chenle’s hands brieflty to grab his jaw. Chenle tugs his eyes open, looking at Jisung until Jisung kisses him, hungrily. Chenle moans again into Jisung’s mouth, as Jisung grabs his hands again. Chenle tugs against Jisung’s hold on his wrists, but Jisung doesn’t let up. He fucks Chenle hard, until his own pleasure starts to take hold. They’re barely kissing now, foreheads pressed together; Chenle’s gone limp beneath him. 

“O-oh,” Chenle stammers. “Ji, I’m gonna—” He grunts, twisting on the sheets. 

Jisung releases his hands to snake his own between them. “That’s okay,” Jisung murmurs. He wraps his hand around Chenle’s cock. 

Chenle jolts. “Fuck.” His hands fly up, grabbing Jisung’s shoulder, scratching his back. The pain shouldn’t make Jisung dizzier but it does. Even if Jisung is in charge right now, if Jisung’s at the helm, it seems Chenle’s always the one who’s really … 

Jisung hips stutter. He’s losing precision, as his orgasm creeps up on him slowly, a gentle wave, cresting just as Chenle cries out, grabbing Jisung’s hair, pulling Jisung’s face to his neck as they orgasm together. Jisung nearly whites out, seeing stars. Chenle slowly calms beneath him. Jisung musters his strength to pull out slowly then roll off of him so he doesn’t squish him. He glances at him. Chenle’s eyes have shut, his cheeks tearstained. Jisung has to wonder if Chenle wore mascara, if it were to run, if he’d look even better. 

He props himself up on an arm, wiping his hand (again) on the sheets then gently cupping Chenle’s face. “Hey,” he murmurs. “How’re you feeling?” 

Chenle hums. His eyes don’t open, but he smiles, giggling a little. Jisung should go clean up but he stays. He knows how much he hates to come back around to Chenle gone. 

So he pats Chenle’s hair, mumbling as many reassurances as he can until he gets too flustered to continue talking. He feels less … 

He feels back to normal now, in some strange, Chenle-induced phenomenon. Jisung thinks he might do it again. Chenle really did look really good. But Jisung hit him. He was even sort of mean to him. His stomach twists. He can’t think about that, not now, not at least until Chenle’s back and cleaned up, and they shower together. 

He glances at his bedside table. How the fuck is it not even eleven? Are they really that freaky? 

Jisung rests his head on the pillow, admiring him. Chenle really is beautiful. Not that Jisung didn’t know this already. Pretty features, pretty lips … Jisung doesn’t think he’s ever felt so connected to someone, doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone quite so bad. His chest aches. Did he have Chenle? Sure, for two hours. Does he have Chenle all the time? No, they aren’t … 

“Stop thinking,” Chenle mumbles. “You did well.” 

Jisung removes his hand from Chenle’s hair, dropping it by his side. “Let me clean us up.” 

“No,” Chenle nearly whines. “Don’t go.” 

“Chenle …” Jisung glances down. “There’s come leaking from your—” 

“Ew!” Chenle exclaims. “I’ll clean that later, dammit.” He pouts. 

“Let me clean you up.” Jisung sits up and shuffles from the bed before Chenle can protest. He makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a rag and cleaning himself then going back to wipe down Chenle. He pauses in the doorway. The rain has stopped, and the sun is peeking through the clouds, just enough to douse Chenle in a warm sunlight, illuminating his pale skin and the browns of his eyes. He’s rolled over to face Jisung, watching him, something forlorn in his expression. Jisung’s heart aches with some strange melancholy he can’t place. Chenle’s gaze drags its way up his figure, from the floor to Jisung’s face. Jisung flushes. 

Chenle yawns, covering his mouth with one hand, stretching his other arm. It’s cooler than it was the previous night. The rain must have shooed away the warmth, but the AC still whirrs. The world has slowed. 

“Well?” Chenle finishes stretching, lowering his arm to rest his face on his pressed-together hands. “You coming back?” 

Jisung nearly blurts it right then and there. He loves him. He loves him, he loves him. 

But he can’t. He isn’t supposed to. He’s already breaking Chenle’s trust by not telling him. He’s probably terrible, from hitting him, to lying to him, from—

“Jisung.” Chenle grows cross. “Come here.” 

Jisung shuffles over to him. He takes the damp rag and gently wipes Chenle down. His stomach and cock, then his cute butt. “You’re gonna have to clean yourself out,” Jisung mutters. 

“That’s okay.” 

Jisung folds the rag with the gross side inwards and tucks it away in the bathroom. He returns to Chenle pulling on his boxers. Jisung does the same. 

“Now, c’mere,” Chenle says. He grabs toward Jisung cutely. Jisung flushes. He joins Chenle in bed and Chenle grabs him like he’s a koala, pulling Jisung’s back to his chest, swinging his leg around his waist. Jisung is, by all means, stuck. 

“I liked it,” Chenle says, firm. “Okay? I liked it a whole lot. I like pain during sex. You made me feel good, so don’t go spiraling, and tell me if you do, okay?” 

Jisung’s eyes prick. “Okay.” 

“I mean it.” 

“Okay.” He swallows. 

Chenle slowly releases him, allowing Jisung to roll over to face him. Chenle smiles at him, taking Jisung’s cheek in a hand. He tucks a bit of Jisung’s hair behind his ear. “I know it can really be a lot, especially the first time, and a lot to grow comfortable with.” 

Jisung nods. 

“I hit you during sex. Am I bad?” 

“No!” Jisung shakes his head. He pouts. “I like it.” 

“Good, now think that way for yourself too, okay?” 

“Okay,” Jisung grumbles. 

Chenle chuckles, gaze meeting Jisung’s. It’s fond, almost too fond. Jisung could drown in it. Chenle’s brows furrow, ever so slightly, before easing. It’s so quick, Jisung had to have dreamt it. 

“Come on.” Chenle smiles. Something’s wrong. “Let’s get up.” 

He gets up, dragging Jisung out to the kitchen by a hand on his wrist. “We should eat.” 

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” Jisung mumbles, as Chenle rummages through his empty fridge. 

“Let’s get breakfast.” 

“What?” 

Chenle gestures to Jisung’s fridge. “Do you object? Have a different suggestion?” 

Jisung pouts. He wants to get breakfast with Chenle. He wants to spend time with him, obviously. But right now, it’s almost as though he’s being swallowed whole by his feelings. There’s an ache in his chest, in his neck. Chenle’s skin is littered with marks he made. Jisung. Jisung did that, but Chenle’s still not his. It hasn’t bothered him that much before, but now … 

His skin is a little itchy. He rubs his arm, shrugging at Chenle. 

“Hey.” 

Jisung can’t look at him. The window by the fridge behind him illuminates his figure. He’s backlit, but not by much. Jisung is so—

“Hey, what’s the matter?” 

Chenle shuts the fridge and reaches for Jisung’s face. “Jisung.” 

Jisung swats him off. “Stop.” 

“Hey. You said you’d tell me.” 

“It’s not that,” Jisung says. He scowls. 

“What is it?” 

“I can’t tell you.” 

Chenle purses his lips. “Jisung, you should tell me.” 

“I know.” Jisung balls his fists at his sides, seeking something to ground him, anything, even if it’s the pain of his nails digging into his palm. 

“Stop that.” Chenle reaches for his hands. Jisung pulls them back but loosens his fists. “What is it?” 

“I don’t want to tell you.” Jisung’s voice trembles. He owes it to Chenle. He has to be honest. “Because I don’t want this to stop.” 

“What? What are you …” 

“Your conditions.” Jisung finally meets Chenle’s gaze. “Remember?” he nearly spits. 

Chenle frowns. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Jisung walks off. He’s shaking really bad. He walks back to his room, unable to be bare any longer. Unable to be seen, not by him. Chenle doesn’t reach him until Jisung’s got his shirt and shorts on. If Chenle won’t leave, Jisung will. 

“Jisung—” 

“Don’t.” 

“Jisung.” Chenle laughs a little. “It’s okay. You’re not thinking clearly, this is just—” 

“Stop!” Jisung can’t handle this. He just—

Chenle purses his lips. “Jisung, we don’t have to stop. This is just—just sex messing with your head. It’s okay. Take a few days and we can … Jisung!”  

Jisung’s heart may as well be breaking. He storms to the front door and pulls on his slides (he isn’t wearing socks and he doesn’t take the time to put them on). He grabs his keys and leaves without saying another word. He doesn’t even know where he’ll go. He doesn’t even make it farther than his building’s stairwell, pausing halfway down to sit at the top of the third floor and bury his face in his hands. 

Hopefully Chenle takes the elevator when he leaves. 

Jisung returns to his apartment shortly. He doesn’t have his phone, so he doesn’t feel like he has a choice. Before he enters, he knocks. The door is locked. Chenle must’ve locked it when he left.

Thank God. 

Jisung drops onto the couch and bawls. He sobs and sobs and sobs. Sobs so hard he can barely breathe, to a point where he nearly passes out. Fuck. He had it, he had him, and he just lost him. But did he? Did he really? Did he ever have him? Why was Chenle even with him? Does he even—

No. Jisung can’t go down that train of thought right now. 

Is it because Jisung’s available? Is that all of it? Does Chenle even like him? Does he—

No. Chenle’s not like that. 

Jisung finally manages to stop sobbing, sniffling and wiping at his face. Chenle said they can still continue it … Can they? 

Can Jisung? 

His heart hurts so bad. Jisung can’t. He can’t keep sleeping with him, not when the pain of only having him halfway is nearly too much to bear. Jisung just wants to forget. Forget everything, right now. And yet, the person he’d usually go to is … 

He nearly chokes. “Fuck.” And forces himself to breathe. 

This is his own doing. He should’ve known from the start sleeping with Chenle would be a mistake. Jisung ties emotions and sex too closely together, and he always has. He’s always been fond of Chenle. This was destined to fail, at Jisung’s own hand. 

He digs out his phone, unsurprised but still scared to see texts from Chenle. 

Lele

Hey

I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t upset you too badly

I mean it, we can still continue, just take a few days to get your head on straight, okay? 

Jisung feels only slightly insane. 

Me

I need to stop thinking

Lele

Jisung

I need a day too, okay? 

Me

Please

Jisung feels like he’s dying. He’s in too deep. Far too fucking deep. He needs Chenle so badly. 

Lele

I mean it

You should rest, anyway

Jisung is so upset. He doesn’t want to keep begging (he does) or keep getting rejected (he doesn’t). Chenle’s right, he probably should rest, but he isn’t thinking straight, and he’s really, really upset. He doesn’t want to keep crying, he’s tired of thinking. He just wants—

He pulls up an old contact. A fuckbuddy from a few years prior, turned a real friend after Jisung got his then-boyfriend. Sungchan was always good to him, and always treated him well, and always … 

Me

Hey

I need a rebound

Sungchan answers instantly. 

Sungchan

No you don’t

What’s wrong?

Me

I don’t want to talk about my feelings

I just want to forget them

Jisung is so frustrated.

Sungchan

Have you moved? 

Me

No

Sungchan

See you soon

Jisung sits in silence until Sungchan knocks on his door. Jisung shuffles over, letting him in. 

“Dude,” Sungchan says. “What the hell? Not even a hello? It’s been over six months.” 

“Don’t. I’m not in the mood.” He reaches for Sungchan but Sungchan swats him off. 

“Nice try. I’m not kissing you until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

Jisung scowls. This was a mistake. He should’ve known Sungchan’s too good of a guy to fuck him when he’s this upset. So Jisung crosses his arms, feeling strangely like a toddler. 

“Seriously.” Sungchan takes his wrist and drags him to the kitchen counter. He sits him down then sits beside him. “I haven’t seen you this upset in ages.” 

Jisung swallows the thick lump in his throat, lip wobbling at just the prospect of talking about things. He should be embarrassed, but Sungchan’s seen him at way worse. 

“Chenle and I, we—” Jisung nearly chokes. He composes himself. “We had an arrangement.” 

“Okay … So you, what, slept together?” 

Jisung nods. “He said it’d end if either of us caught feelings, a-and—” 

“You caught feelings.” 

Jisung sniffs. He nods again. 

“Did you tell him?” 

“Not ’til today.” 

“Oh. Did he reject you?” 

“He said I’m probably confused because I just dommed for the first time, or whatever. I don’t know! I don’t fucking know. I just want him so badly. It makes me feel fucking crazy, I-I want him so bad. I don’t—” 

“Jisung.” Sungchan chuckles. “It’s okay. Give it a few days, talk to him again.” 

Jisung glares at him. “He said the same thing,” he grumbles. “I just want to forget, but he’s always the person that helps me forget. When the world is too big, or too overwhelming, it’s always been Chenle.” 

As if on cue. Terrible, terrible, horrible cue, the knob to Jisung’s front door twists, and it’s thrown open by Chenle. Jisung’s jaw drops. 

“What the fuck?!” Chenle exclaims. He seems mad. 

“What are you …” 

“You stopped answering!” Chenle yells. Of course he does. When Chenle’s stressed, he yells. “Jisung, you have to stop scaring me!” 

Sungchan shuffles from the stool, toward the door. “Chenle,” he says. 

“Sungchan,” Chenle mutters. “I’ll see you around.” 

Sungchan claps a hand on Chenle’s shoulder and whispers something in his ear, as Chenle scowls. Chenle swats him off, kicking off his shoes and marching to Jisung, while Sungchan leaves, the door shutting behind him. 

Jisung is a little dazed, somewhat starstruck. Chenle comes up to him, his lip wobbling. He stops, a foot away. Jisung wishes he were closer. 

“Sorry.” 

“Did you call him?” Chenle’s voice trembles. “Did you call him here? To come fuck you?” 

Jisung scowls. “Well, you said no, so—” 

Chenle huffs, so strong that Jisung shuts up. Irritation prickles under his skin. What say does Chenle have? When he rejected Jisung? When he told him that it was just because of the sex? As if that’s all they do. As if it wasn’t just that, but the quiet mornings after. The breakfasts in bed. The comfortable evenings, curled up on the couch, watching movies. The board games, the chats, the jokes and the laughter. No. Jisung has not fallen for Chenle just because of the sex. He’s fallen for all that’s been in between, too. 

“I mean it.” Jisung sits up tall. “You rejected me. We aren’t exclusive. You can’t just—” He’s cut off as Chenle kisses him strongly. Jisung is so shocked. He melts on instinct, before his brain kicks into gear and he pushes Chenle off, scowling. 

They stare at each other, just for a beat. Chenle’s bright red. He looks angry. Jisung barely understands, until he considers what he’d do if Chenle had sex with someone else. They aren’t exclusive, not formally, but … 

Oh, but Chenle just rejected him. 

“Fuck you,” Jisung spits. “I’m not just gonna—Ugh! Fuck you! You can’t just jerk me around!” 

Chenle’s just staring at him, his eyes bright. Jisung can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s never been great at reading Chenle. Never really been great at reading most people. But Chenle? He’s just too far away. 

“I’m not just—just available to you! I’m not disposable. You can’t just pick and choose when you want me. I’m not …” Jisung trails off. 

Chenle’s face has fallen. His frown deep. When he speaks, it’s quieter than Jisung expected. “I don’t … I don’t think of you like that.” He looks away from Jisung. “I don’t think of you like that at all.” 

Jisung frowns back. 

Chenle shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” He speaks carefully. “I don’t, I—That’s not the case.” He can’t look at Jisung. Jisung should feel bad, but he doesn’t. Not really. 

Jisung huffs, crossing his arms. 

“I do always want you.” Chenle practically mumbles it. “You’re really all I think about.” He says something more, but Jisung can’t catch it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to. 

“Whatever,” Jisung mutters. “You shouldn’t have come.” 

“Jisung.” For all Jisung sucks at reading him, Chenle seems really upset. “Jisung, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” 

“Like what?” Jisung snaps. “You rejected me.” 

“I didn’t think you meant it!”  

Jisung scoffs. “That’s worse. You think I’d mess with you like that?” It dawns on him. “Are you projecting?” 

Chenle’s jaw drops. “Jisung.” He sounds like he’s about to cry. “No! I’m not fucking projecting. Jisung, I—” Chenle clears his throat, his face beet red. “I’m not.” 

Jisung doesn’t even really know why he’s angry. Chenle has every right to reject him, if he doesn’t feel the same. Maybe Jisung’s just deeply in denial that Chenle doesn’t love him back. Maybe he really did think they were more. Maybe that was his first mistake. 

So he looks away. He can’t bear to look at Chenle. He doesn’t want to see him so upset. Especially since it’s kind of his fault. 

“Jisung.” 

“Stop,” Jisung mutters. “Maybe we should just end this. Doesn’t seem like you’d care.” 

“Dammit!” Chenle’s voice breaks. “How is it not obvious how much you matter to me?!” 

Jisung looks at him quickly. 

“How are you so stupidly dense?” Chenle hisses. “What do I have to do to get it through your thick fucking skull? Jisung, I—” He stops talking. Chenle’s standing tall, fists curled at his sides. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve let anyone dom me? Do you—Do you know how much I have to trust someone? How much I—Dammit!” Chenle turns away, covering his face with a hand. 

Jisung stares. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Chenle hiccups. “Maybe we should end this.” 

Jisung doesn’t like seeing him cry, not like this. Or he shouldn’t, at least. 

Either way, he really can’t bear it. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.” 

Chenle glares at him, hugging himself. “Shut up. I’ve taken care of you for how long? For you to say stuff like that? Have I not given you my everything?” Chenle’s mad, now. This, Jisung can read. 

Jisung doesn’t know what to say. Tentatively, he moves toward Chenle. And, when he doesn’t move, he pulls Chenle into his embrace, holding him tightly. 

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.” 

Chenle doesn’t reply, but he rests his head on Jisung’s shoulder. “You were just upset. ’S fine.” 

Jisung gives him a big squeeze. “I’m sorry.” 

Chenle tucks his head into Jisung’s neck. He leans into him. 

Chenle sighs. “We should hug more.” 

Jisung chuckles. “Really?” 

“Do you disagree?” 

“No.” 

“Exactly, then. We should hug more.” Chenle tucks his face into Jisung’s neck, taking a deep breath. “You smell like sex.” 

“Do you want to make me smell more like sex?” 

Chenle hits him. “Stop that.” 

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.” 

“It’s fine,” Chenle mumbles. “I probably forgave you too easily, but whatever.” A pause. “I’ll just edge you ’til you pass out.” 

Jisung shivers. “Shut up.” 

Chenle finally pulls back, cocking an eyebrow. “Why?” he asks. “You’ll get hard?” 

Jisung’s been getting hard since Chenle playfully smacked him. He scowls, looking away. 

Chenle coos. “You’re so easy.” 

“Shut up!” 

Chenle laughs. “Sorry, sorry. Have you eaten?” He walks off toward the kitchen. 

Jisung pouts. 

“What?” Chenle teases. “Did I rile you up?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Yes, well. Maybe you deserve to squirm. What do you want to eat?” 

Jisung’s pout deepens. Seems Chenle’s serious about eating. 

“Dunno,” Jisung mumbles. 

“Jisung. We can’t have sex again until we eat. You’ll actually pass out.”

“That sounded fun …” 

Chenle laughs. “Okay, okay. How about we order no-contact delivery and while it delivers, we …” His eyes glitter. 

Jisung nods. Chenle quickly taps away on his phone, then grabs a giggling Jisung by the wrist to drag him to the bedroom. The moment they’re in the room, and the door is shut, Jisung finds himself pressed against it, Chenle’s lips pressed to his so quickly, he can barely process what’s happening. 

Jisung reaches for him but Chenle pins his wrist back. “Sorry,” Chenle says between kisses. He pulls back just enough so Jisung can meet his darkened gaze. “You were in control earlier, but …” 

Jisung whimpers. Chenle grabs his shirt and Jisung helps him pull it over his head, before Chenle sheds his own. Chenle kisses him again, shoving his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, swallowing his moans. 

“Fuck,” Chenle mutters. “You’re so fucking easy.” 

“Stop,” Jisung whines. 

“What?” Chenle mocks him. “You don’t like when I call you easy? Am I wrong?” He shoves down Jisung’s shorts and Jisung shivers. Chenle steps out of his own and tosses them both aside, after Jisung steps out of his. 

“Well?” Chenle pulls back, looking at him sharply. “Am I?” 

Jisung doesn’t know if he’s ever fallen so quickly. But he doesn’t want to give in. He wants to at least try to put up a fight. 

He nods. “You are.” 

Chenle’s eyes narrow. “Is that so?” Chenle cups the back of his neck, pulling him in for another messy kiss. Chenle kicks his legs apart, nudging his own between them and pressing his thigh to Jisung’s crotch. 

Jisung bites back a whimper, swallowing instead. Chenle tangles his hand in Jisung’s hair, tugging his head back so it bonks the wall. The dull pain has Jisung nearly floating. 

Chenle kisses down his neck, nipping at all the spots Jisung’s most sensitive. He doesn’t miss the mark, not even once. Maybe Chenle does know him. Maybe Chenle does feel the same. Maybe he—

Chenle sucks harshly on the crook of his neck and Jisung whimpers, any and all cohesive thoughts leaving his head. Unable to help himself, he ruts against Chenle’s thigh, grinding against the firm muscle. 

Chenle pulls back. “Ah,” he says. “Did I say you could do that?” 

Jisung shakes his head, feeling awfully small, in the best way possible. 

“Then don’t.” Chenle’s cold. Chenle’s usually not so cold. Jisung thinks he’s hot. 

Jisung’s full body shivers. He nods. 

“Good boy.” Chenle kisses a little lower, biting a matching mark below Jisung’s collarbone. Jisung covers his mouth with his hand so he doesn’t moan. 

Chenle finishes marking him then pulls back, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and tugging it away. “God,” he mutters. “It’s like you’re trying to piss me off.” He clears his throat. “Come on. You’re getting on your knees.” He drags Jisung over by the bed, dropping a pillow on the floor, probably because he already knows Jisung’s knees are sensitive. Fuck, maybe Chenle does—

Jisung kneels. Chenle shucks off  his boxers and presents to him his nearly-fully hard cock. Jisung loves sucking cock. Really, just Chenle’s, though. Chenle always smells good, he’s always trimmed or waxed. He’s the right size, and he’s just … 

Well, he’s Chenle, too. 

Jisung swallows the excess saliva in his mouth. He places his hands behind his back instinctively, since that’s what Chenle always tells him to do. 

Chenle croons. “Good boy,” he says. “You’re finally listening.” 

Jisung opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out only a little. Chenle slaps his dick on it. With little hesitation, he slides his cock into Jisung’s mouth. Jisung moans, letting his eyes fall shut. Before he can start sucking, licking, or doing whatever it is he normally does, Chenle thrusts his hips, fucking into his mouth swiftly, his hand tangled in Jisung’s hair to hold him in place. He sets a quick pace, just enough for Jisung to feel used, just shy of choking him properly. 

Jisung moans, his own cock hard as a rock. Above him, Chenle’s quiet, just some grunts or groans. 

“Fuck,” Chenle mutters. “Ah—Open your eyes.” 

Jisung looks up at him and Chenle groans. “Fuck. You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me.” 

Jisung whimpers. A particularly hard thrust has him nearly choking, but he manages to stay cool. Chenle notices, he slows for just a moment, until Jisung hums in assent, and he picks up the pace again.

Chenle smirks. “And you said you weren’t fucking easy.” 

Jisung whines. Tears collect in his eyes, stinging. He blinks and they fall. 

“You were wrong, huh? Poor baby, he probably hates being wrong.” 

Jisung wants to shake his head, to talk back, or even glare at him, but he can’t. All he can do is take it. Let Chenle take him. 

Chenle coos. “What? Did you want to speak?” He pulls his cock out for just a moment, but before Jisung can even shut his lips, he sheathes it back in. “Too bad.” 

Jisung’s vision blurs. A thick haze has settled over his mind. He’s fuzzy and floaty all over. Chenle, with the hand in Jisung’s hair, holds him close, nose pressing to Chenle’s skin. Jisung nearly chokes, dizzy with desire. Jisung likes choking. 

Through the thick haze in Jisung’s mind, he just registers Chenle’s knuckles brush his cheek, as he murmurs something Jisung can’t catch. 

Chenle pulls his head back, off his cock, and Jisung breathes. “You’re so fucking cute,” he mutters, this time loud enough for Jisung to hear. “You look like you’re about to come. Are you really that pathetic?” 

Jisung shakes his head. “’M not. I’m—” 

Chenle shoves his cock back in, thrusting quickly. Then, for the first time in a long while, mostly because it’s not Chenle’s favorite, Chenle hits him in the face. 

Jisung comes so hard he almost blacks out, hips jerking, completely untouched. Chenle pulls out, and, when Jisung’s vision clears, he’s met with Chenle jacking off before him. He shuts his eyes, sticking out his tongue, just in time as Chenle orgasms all over his face. 

Jisung opens his eyes only after Chenle gently wipes the come from his lashes and eyelids. “There,” Chenle mutters. 

Jisung smiles at him. “Should’ve worn my glasses,” he mumbles, only a little delirious. 

“You didn’t come hard enough if you can still talk.” Chenle smirks. 

Jisung giggles, a little loopy. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Dangerous question.” Chenle grabs a tissue from the bedside table, gently wiping off Jisung’s face. Then, he hauls him up to his feet. Jisung stumbles, but Chenle steadies him, guiding Jisung out of his sticky boxers before pushing him onto the mattress. Jisung lies, flat on his back, and waits, as Chenle rummages through the drawers. He pulls out a few things. Some thin rope, a plain ball gag, a vibrator, and something he hides behind his back. 

That jingles and clinks. 

What do they have in there that jingles? 

“I’m going to edge you.” Chenle’s voice stays even. His eyes are dark. “Then, you’re gonna come ’til I say you’re done.” 

Jisung nods. He looks away just long enough for Chenle to tuck whatever surprise he has under the pillow. Jisung’s still a little dazed. 

“Hands.” Jisung gives Chenle his hands. Chenle ties them, having Jisung rest them above his head. He fits the gag into Jisung’s mouth, unfortunately before Jisung can ask about whatever he’s hiding. Jisung tries nodding to it, grunting. 

“Hm?” Chenle tilts his head. Cute. “Oh. That’s for later, baby, if you earn it.” 

Jisung tries giving Chenle his best pleading eyes. Chenle laughs. “Nice try.” And he smacks Jisung’s inner thigh. Jisung moans. 

He should be scared, but he isn’t. He knows Chenle, knows he knows him, and he trusts him with his everything. 

Why did Jisung say what he did earlier? 

“Breathe,” Chenle mutters. He traces his hand along Jisung’s chest, raking over it. Jisung jolts, and Chenle chuckles. “So sensitive.” 

Chenle, as he always, painfully does, takes his sweet, sweet time. Jisung wiggles a little, meeting Chenle’s gaze briefly. Chenle raises an eyebrow. Jisung nods. He’s fine. 

Satisfied, Chenle smiles. He flicks on the vibrator, tracing it around the base of Jisung’s cock. Jisung moans. Chenle shushes him. 

“Breathe,” Chenle says. “I’ve got you, okay?” He scratches along Jisung’s abdomen, his lower belly. Jisung jolts, nearly lifting his knee if not for Chenle grabbing it, removing the vibrator from Jisung’s cock to hold down his knee. 

“Still, or I’ll tie your ankles down.” 

Jisung takes a deep breath. He nods. 

“Good boy.” He trails the vibrator up Jisung’s cock, focusing hard on the head of it. “You’re doing so well,” Chenle murmurs. “It’s nice, having you quiet. Means you can’t talk back to me.” 

Jisung doesn’t even talk back that often! He doesn’t—

Chenle’s other finger moves to Jisung’s hole, swiping some of the still-gunky come from Jisung’s cock to lubricate it up. He circles it, glancing at Jisung’s face, pressing the vibrator there harder, and pushing in. 

Jisung moans, growing dizzier and dizzier. The familiar heat coils in his stomach, his abdomen tensing. Chenle presses his finger in deeper. He’s just brushed Jisung’s prostate, about to tip him over the edge, when—

Chenle pulls everything back. Jisung’s eyes fly open. He’s terribly dazed. He moans, writhing. He was so close. Tears blur his vision. He was so fucking close. Jisung’s so dizzy, pleasure tingling throughout his body, from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes. His vision blurs more. He tries blinking the tears away, but more just come. 

Chenle shushes him. “Breathe.” Slowly, Jisung calms. “Good?” 

Jisung manages to nod, breathing through his nose. 

“Good.” Chenle moves the vibrator back to Jisung’s cock and sticks two fingers in this time. Jisung moans. He can barely think straight, he can barely see. He wants to come so badly. He wants to apologize to Chenle, blubber and blubber until he’s forgiven. Instead, all that comes out is a gurgling sound. 

“You want the gag off?” Chenle asks. 

Jisung moans. He screws his eyes shut and nods. 

“Just a little more, okay?” 

Jisung shakes his head. 

“Okay, okay.” Chenle pauses to remove it from Jisung’s head. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung slurs. 

Chenle coos. “So cute,” he says. He resumes, slipping in a third finger, massaging Jisung’s prostate. “You’re sorry? Maybe you should’ve thought before you spoke.” 

Jisung whines. “Lele.” 

“Poor baby. He says things he doesn’t mean, then gets upset when they’re taken as he said them.” 

Jisung shakes his head, writhing. “Lele.” And again, it coils in his gut. He trembles, hips jerking. Maybe this time—

Chenle pulls back, pausing his movements entirely. His expression is cold. 

“No,” Jisung moans. “No, Lele.” He hiccups. “’M sorry, okay? I’m so—” He chokes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Lele,” he sobs. 

Chenle laughs. Just when Jisung’s no longer close, he starts again. Jisung sobs, pressing his head back into the pillow, gasping. He has to fight to keep his eyes open, pleasure enveloping him whole. He’s close again, he’s so—

Chenle relents. He leans forward, to quietly say. “You look so good like this.” Before Jisung can come instantly from the praise, he wraps a quick hand around the base of Jisung’s cock. 

Jisung nearly screams, sobbing. 

“Come on,” Chenle says. “You can take it. Be good.” 

Jisung nods. He can take it. He can be good. He can, right? 

“Be good for me.” 

Jisung nods quickly. He can do it. He can—

Chenle flicks the vibrator on just as he presses into his prostate and Jisung cries out. Tears stream down his cheeks, his chest rising and falling quickly. 

“Okay,” Chenle murmurs. “Be good. Come for me?” 

Jisung comes instantly with a silent scream. His jaw drops, body nearly spasming as he orgasms the strongest he has maybe ever. 

He must black out, for a moment. He comes around to Chenle gently tapping his cheek. 

“There you go,” Chenle murmurs. “I was kidding earlier. You didn’t have to commit.” 

Jisung giggles. “Sorry.” 

“My sweet Jisungie. You feeling okay?” 

Jisung nods. 

“Good, because we aren’t done.” Chenle smiles sweetly, sitting back up straight. He offers Jisung some water and Jisung drinks. The vibrator’s been discarded along with the gag. Jisung really can’t think of what he’s got. Not that he’s doing much thinking at all. 

“I’m gonna fuck you. You’ve got one more orgasm in you, right?” Chenle says. Jisung nods. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

Slowly, a little sluggishly, Jisung does as he says, leaning his front half forward, propping his ass in the air, his arms still tied together in front of him. Chenle unties them. 

“Prop yourself up properly, okay?” 

Jisung nods, and does as he says, pushing up to rest on both palms. 

“Shut your eyes.”

Jisung shuts his eyes. There’s that clinking again, and something cold rests on his back. Jisung shivers, flinching. Chenle shushes him. 

Then he feels it. It’s cool, but not that cold. Chenle wraps something thin around his neck. 

A collar. He tightens it so it fits perfectly. Before Jisung can even process it, Chenle tugs. Jisung moans, his cock twitching. “F-fuck.” His eyes fall open. 

“You like it?” Chenle uses the leash to pull Jisung’s head back. “Say thank you.” 

Jisung’s breathing is constricted just enough. He can still get air in and out, but holy shit, he’s dizzy. He feels so good. It’s like he’s floating, in another world. Maybe he’s even died and gone to heaven. 

“I said—” 

Jisung moans. 

“Th-thank you.” It comes out as a wheeze. 

“Fuck,” Chenle mutters. Chenle lets up a little. Jisung relaxes his neck. “It’s okay?” 

Jisung nods. “’S so good.” 

“You’re cute.” 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” Jisung tries to crane his neck to look back at him but fails. “Please what?” Chenle asks, a little more forceful.

Jisung’s tongue is thick in his mouth. Chenle smacks his ass and he moans. “Please.” 

“Please what?” Chenle hits him again. Jisung’s vision blurs. 

“F’ck me.” 

Chenle coos. “Poor baby.” The tip of his cock, wet and cold (when did Chenle get the lube out?) presses bluntly to Jisung’s hole and he moans. “He can barely speak.” And he pushes in. 

Jisung groans, his arms already trembling. “Lele.” 

Chenle shushes him. “So chatty,” he murmurs, running his hand along Jisung’s waist, the other gripping the leash, tugging again. “You’re usually so quiet.” He thrusts in quickly, hips snapping, colliding easily with Jisung’s prostate. Jisung shouts, vision clouded by tears. 

“S-sorry.” 

Chenle laughs. “You’re still sorry?”

Jisung nods. “’M sorry. I’m so—” 

Chenle shushes him, fucking into him harder. “Relax, baby.”  

Jisung whimpers. Chenle pulls the leash back and Jisung leans into the collar, until he really can’t breathe. Jisung feels incredible, euphoric. He can’t seem to form a single thought. Spots dance in his vision, and Chenle lets up completely. 

“Careful,” Chenle says. “Careful, baby.” He must drop the leash. His second hand moves to Jisung’s hip, rubbing soothingly

Jisung moans through pressed-shut lips, dizzy and dazed. He can no longer keep himself up on his arms, so he lets his front half fall forward. Chenle grabs his hips and pistons into him. Jisung can’t even moan, too drunk on pleasure, too out of it. He tilts his head so he doesn’t suffocate in the pillow, gripping the pillowcase tightly. 

Chenle nails his prostate perfectly with each stroke. “You’re doing so well,” Chenle murmurs. “My lovely Jisung. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? I’ve forgiven you.” 

Jisung whimpers, tears filling his eyes. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” He snakes his hand through to wrap around Jisung’s cock, stroking him, as his own hips stutter, until they come in tandem. Chenle whines high in his throat as he comes. The sound is beautiful to Jisung. 

Jisung slumps once Chenle pulls out, gently guiding him to lay down, adjusting him so he doesn’t lie in a puddle of his own spunk. Chenle rolls him away and onto his side, laying him near the back of the bed. 

“Hey.” Chenle pats his hair. “You with me?” 

Jisung shuts his mouth, smacking his lips. His mouth is dry. He wets it. He hums. 

“My Jisungie,” Chenle coos. 

Can I be your Jisungie? Jisung wants to ask. He can’t even find the strength to speak. He manages a dopey smile. 

“Good. Let’s get you a bath, okay?” 

Jisung hums, eyes drifting shut. “’Kay.” 

“Don’t fall asleep on me.” Chenle chuckles. “C’mon.” 

Jisung hums again. Chenle must take a moment to clean up and prep the bath. Jisung slowly comes around, blinking his eyes back open as Chenle returns. 

“C’mon,” Chenle says. He helps Jisung stand on wobbly legs, guiding him straight to the bath. Jisung settles into it, sighing at the warm water against his skin. 

“You did so well,” Chenle says. “I …” 

“You?” Jisung’s coming around. 

Chenle smiles, a little wry. “It was good?” 

“So good.” 

“You seem a little loopy, baby.” 

Jisung hums again. “Wash my hair?” 

“’Course.” 

Chenle washes his hair. They sit in a comfortable silence as Chenle gently scratches his scalp and scrubs his back with the shower poof. Jisung nearly dozes off again. 

“C’mon,” Chenle says. “Our food, remember?” 

Jisung smiles. “Right.” 

Chenle laughs. “You are so loopy.” He looks pretty like this, his hair a little damp, his arms wet from the bath water, a spot of water on his shirt. Jisung nearly confesses (again) right there and then. 

Chenle hauls him out of the tub with all his might and towels him off. They get dressed and Chenle grabs their food from the haul, before they settle at the counter. Jisung is feeling a little more awake. 

Maybe it’s because he’s more conscious, because he’s no longer woozy. Because he’s sick and tired of being in this limbo. Because … 

“Chenle.”

Chenle looks up. The sun is still streaming in through the big window across from them, not too high in the sky yet. Chenle’s moving chicken and sauce containers to a big plate. When Jisung swallows, instead of speaking more, he raises an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

“I love you.” 

Chenle doesn’t look away from him. 

“I mean it,” Jisung says. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know I should have. I know I was breaking your trust by not telling you. I-I just—I didn’t want us to stop. I didn’t want to stop having you, even if I didn’t have you, not really, even if …” Jisung trails off. Chenle stands abruptly, and Jisung’s heartrate spikes. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just keeps talking. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to catch feelings, I really shouldn’t have started. I knew it was going to happen, I just—I wanted you, so I …” 

Chenle takes Jisung’s face in his hands, his expression truly unreadable. 

“I …” Jisung trails off. He gulps. Chenle’s gaze drops to his lips, and he leans in, hesitating. 

“Please,” Jisung whispers, hands hovering at Chenle’s sides, stiff. 

Chenle kisses him softly. Softer than Jisung thinks he has ever kissed him before. Maybe softer than Jisung’s been kissed by anyone ever. And yet, it brings tears to Jisung’s shut eyes. Chenle pulls back shortly, keeping the kiss simple and sweet. No tongue, no messiness, just … 

Something more and something less. 

Jisung pulls his eyes open, only chasing Chenle’s lips slightly, before settling in his chair. 

“I can’t say it,” Chenle admits. “I’ve never been good at saying it. I’m not …” He sighs, resting his elbow on the table, head on his hand. “You know …” Chenle lifts his head, letting his hand curl under his chin. The sunlight catches the side of his face, illuminating his profile. The slope of his nose, his pretty eyes, the browns of them bright, even if Chenle seems saddened. He doesn’t look at Jisung.  

Jisung frowns. “Know what?” 

Chenle takes a breath. “Do you remember? When I sort of dropped off the map … a few years back?” 

Jisung’s frown deepens. He does. They only reconnected a year or so ago. Before then, years prior, they were thick as thieves. 

“It hurt,” Jisung says. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Chenle still won’t look at him. “I was … I was in a really bad spot. With a really bad person.” 

Jisung’s frown deepens. 

“It’s been easy, you know? It is, easier, at least. Being in charge, in control … I think it meant I could be in denial, even if just a bit longer.” 

There’s a pause. “I got really scared,” Chenle mumbles. “When … when you dropped, and I barely caught you.” He stares at his lap. “I really couldn’t deny anything anymore.” 

Jisung doesn’t follow. “Sorry?” 

“Jisung, I—I feel the same, okay? I told you, I can’t say it. I can’t even tell my mom I love her, I …” 

“Chen—” Chenle holds up a trembling hand. 

“Let me finish, please.” 

Jisung shuts his mouth. “Okay.” He offers Chenle a hand and, hesitantly, Chenle takes it, squeezing it  tight. 

“I just—I was scared. I am still scared. I like you so freaking much, and I was trying to ignore it for so stupidly long. Not out of liking our arrangement, or whatever. Way more than I’m willing to admit … but also just …” Chenle’s lips are set in a deep frown. “Ji, I really like you. And it makes me want to push you away, to run away. So to …” He shuts his mouth, resting his chin on his palm, folding his fingers over his lips. 

“Lele, it’s okay.” 

“It really hurt. What you said. I know you didn’t mean it, I just—I had just—I just let you see me. So it hurt more. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to upset you, I just—” Chenle’s grip on his hand tightens. “I’m sorry.” Chenle swallows. “I panicked. I wasn’t trying to hurt you badly. Sleeping with you like … like that. It rocked my whole fucking world.” He sighs. Finally, he looks at Jisung, squeezing his hand again, then releasing. Before Chenle can pull his hand back, Jisung grabs it tighter. 

“I’m glad you’re telling me all this. I’m glad you like me back, too.” Jisung resists a giggle. 

Chenle smiles at him, a little tired but warm. “Good.” He brings Jisung’s hand to his lips, his own shaking, and he kisses his knuckles, pressing them to his cheek, leaning against Jisung. 

“Chenle,” Jisung murmurs. He pulls his hand from Chenle’s, just so he can cup Chenle’s cheek instead. Chenle leans into his touch, his head tilted forward, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t just love you because of the sex.” 

Chenle hums, eyes opening again. He peers at Jisung through his lashes, eyes glittering. Jisung’s breath is taken away.

“You were saying?” Chenle murmurs, lifting his head. Jisung lets his hand fall. He just can’t help himself. He closes the gap between them, leaning on the counter to kiss him. Something churns in his gut, stirring. Jisung kisses him deeply, trying to pour every bit of love, want, into it. Jisung is just so … He’s crazy about him. 

He pulls back just far enough and their eyes meet. Chenle looks a little dazed, his eyes contrasting colors in the sunlight, the one toward the window a shimmering gold, the other a deep, warm brown. Once again, Jisung thinks, he may drown. Chenle is ethereal. 

Jisung slips from his stool and cups Chenle’s face in both hands, kissing him again,  their bodies pressed together. Chenle’s hands cup Jisung’s, holding them to his face. Jisung kisses him. It’s slow, but not soft, not anymore. Jisung is struck with a deep need, and a weird feeling like he’s about to bawl. 

They should finish talking. 

Jisung pulls back. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I had to.” 

Chenle looks a little starstruck. He swallows and nods, fingers briefly ghosting his lips, before his hand returns to his lap. “You were saying.” 

“It’s not just about sex for me. I … You know, I like the time we’ve spent in between too. From all those quiet mornings and … And silly meals. I really love you, Chenle.” Jisung steels himself. “If … if you’d let me … And I know you’re scared, so you can say no, but, if you’d let me, I’d really love to have you as mine.” 

Chenle’s quiet for a moment. Jisung’s heart rate spikes. His hand finds Jisung’s again. 

“You’ve always had me,”  Chenle murmurs. “To an extent …” He toys with Jisung’s fingers, pressing their palms together, lacing their fingers. “I want you, too.” 

Jisung smiles. “I know.” 

Chenle takes a deep breath. “You … you have to commit.” 

Jisung nearly giggles. Instead he nods, diligently listening. 

“You have to take care of me. I might freak out, and try to run away, but you can’t—You can’t get mad at me.” 

“Okay, Lele.” 

“You’ll have to be really patient. Like really patient. Oh, and you have to actually tell me when you drop. And sometimes I might lose my temper with you, and—” 

“Chenle.” Jisung does chuckle. “I know this already, silly.” 

Chenle glares at him. 

“I know you.” Jisung gives his hand a squeeze. “I’ve seen you, and I still love you, right?” 

Chenle shrugs. “I guess,” he mumbles. 

Jisung smiles. “You’re cute. Do you want to relax?” 

Chenle scowls and smacks him twice. “Can you be less of a horndog for two minutes?!” 

Jisung laughs. “If you want me to be less of a horndog, you should stop hitting me.” 

Chenle’s scowl deepens. Jisung coos. “Sorry, sorry.” He laughs, rubbing Chenle’s arm with his free hand. “Let’s eat, okay? We’ll take it easy.” Jisung squeezes his hand. 

Chenle grumbles something about Jisung and sex and turns to their food, likely very cold. Jisung does the same, eating away until he realizes they’re still holding hands. Chenle’s ambidextrous, so it’s not a big deal. It just makes Jisung feel all fuzzy. 

“Okay,” Chenle says, just as he finishes his final chicken wing. “Let’s date.” 

Jisung grins. “Cool.” 

“Good.” He glances at Jisung, surveying his empty plate, watching him as he wipes his hand on the napkin, then wipes his mouth with the clean side. 

“Yes?” Jisung asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Just thinking …” Chenle smiles at him, all too innocent. 

“Now do you want to relax?”