Tritagonist
Title: Tritagonist
Pairing: Chanyeol/Jongin, side! Sehun/Suho
Word Count: 10,6k
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: smut, language, tattooed Chanyeol?
Summary: Jongin thinks that trouble can't chase him. He doesn't like bad boys, illegal races, drugs or gambling, and he manages to keep Jongdae safe as well. But in the end trouble definitely chases after him, although is in the form of illegal boxer Chanyeol.
Notes: The one to blame for this fic is fukushimakyong and her tribulations for tattooed Chanyeol. shinealightrose betaed it!
Kim Jongdae, Jongin’s mother used to say, isn’t a child you want to be friends with. It’s not that Jongin completely disagrees, however, it’s just that Jongdae the child has nothing on Jongdae the adult.
When they were fifteen, Jongdae dragged him to the outskirts of the city immersed in a mysterious state. He had been talking about it during a whole week, tugging at Jongin’s high school uniform and whispering cheeky ‘You’ll see’s’. Jongin just happened to end in an illegal race, watching Jongdae get into the copilot seat of one the drivers, a guy four years older who, in Jongin’s opinion, was taking advantage of his friend. It was the first time Jongdae searched willingly for trouble, but definitely not the last. Jongin could have never fixed it for him, as much as he witnessed every mistake he made through the way, and so he stayed on the sidelines, waiting for the moment in which Jongdae would inevitably fall and Jongin would have to hold him.
When they were seventeen, Jongdae met a pretty, charming man that worked as a gaming dealer at a casino. That, Jongin recognizes, had been fun at first, because they had the chance to go around the place and bet a bit of money here and there. He changed his opinion after discovering that Jongdae’s conquest was deep into the illegal gambling world, which given their luck didn’t catch him by surprise. Jongdae fell again, and Jongin was there to help him. Those were the perks of being the co-protagonist of Jongdae’s life: he was too busy taking care of him to put himself in danger too.
Sometimes, a fleeting thought crosses Jongin’s mind, one of those that pushes him to feel pity for his friend. It may be hard to be his partner in crime, because Jongin has never stepped over the line on his own will, and when he has, it has been for Jongdae’s sake. It can’t be easy, no, to watch Jongin enter university and pass the week focused on his studies, meeting new people and blending into plans that he can talk about the next day (and not having to lie because he was in the wrong places at the wrong moments). It’s then when Jongdae becomes the spectator, impossible to detach from a fate that shoves him to hunt for problems, for something that worries Jongin enough to bring him to his side. Jongin knows this; Jongdae needs him, and it seems like Jongin doesn’t need him that much.
“You’re not going.”
Jongdae appears on Friday at his apartment without previous notice, as he always does. His friend catches him doing a Disney marathon with Sehun, eyes that dart between the television and the boys as though he wants to comment or laugh at the scene. Instead, he announces that he has found a club that has boxing shows during the weekends, not minding that Sehun is sprawled on the couch and listening to them -judging. The negative from Jongin is clearly not what he’s expecting, because Jongin always surrenders to his requests, sometimes his pleas.
Nevertheless, Jongdae is smart. He needs less words than fingers in his hand to make people feel terrible about themselves. Or at least he has that effect on Jongin.
“Are you letting me go alone?” he asks, staring up at Jongin through eyelashes that result violently beautiful.
Jongin isn’t immune to emotional blackmail, but he sure is to the tactics Jongdae uses on his guys. Especially after observing them on display and not being the target.
“It hasn’t been even a month since I had to save your ass from your ex-boyfriend’s brothel,” Jongin reminds him without a trace of shame. Sehun sits up immediately, mouth agape at the revelation, and Jongdae grimaces in discomfort because of the attention. “You just aren’t going to illegal boxing. You with a boyfriend that is trouble and that would know how to beat me up? That, Jongdae, is the limit.”
“Wait, think about it,” Sehun interrupts, much to their shock. He finally pauses the Disney marathon, the popcorn still on his lap. “Half-naked men fighting? Isn’t that gay enough for you or what?”
It’s natural that Sehun assumes Jongdae’s ideas can be fun. They barely know each other, except for the times he falls asleep on their couch - whether it’s because he’s hiding from a jealous boy or because he wants to spend time with Jongin. Sehun has never believed the stories he has been told, opting for repetitive ‘you’ve had so much fun that it’s not fair’ complaints.
“I’ll hardly be gay if I’m dead,” Jongin points out.
“I’ll go with you,” Sehun concludes, ignoring the dramatic reply and staring at Jongdae.
Jongin isn’t oblivious to the way Jongdae’s eyes shine when he stares at Sehun, as if he has found the most valuable toy in the world. And this is what Jongin has been fearing since he started sharing a dorm with Sehun, the forever bored dude that jumps at any chance he has. Jongin supposes that this was bound to happen, but he doesn’t have to be content about it.
“What? No.”
Sehun simply shrugs. “Sorry, unlike you, I am gay enough for men sweating in shorts.”
Jongin always tells himself that he’s not too maternal. His behavior is the response, the natural balance against Jongdae’s childish behavior. Even during the dawn of Saturday, which he’s spending on his bed with a six pound textbook, he can’t help but be concerned. It’s not about Jongdae anymore, for his friend is like an immortal creature that is ready to face any nightlife problem, it’s about Sehun in an environment he doesn’t belong to. Jongin has experienced how that feels, has watched and lived things he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
Inwardly conversing with himself, he grabs his phone in surrender. It’s 4 a.m. It’s bad.
4:03. To: Jongdae.
Where the fuck are you two. Do whatever you want but send Sehun back home NOW.
4:25 From: Jongdae.
Dnt worru kim jkongin i0m seduicng fuckboyaz
4:26 To: Jongdae
Text me your location
4:37 From: Jongdae
Noo00i0oo0 dobt save mw
4:38
HAHAJAHAS
Jongin doesn’t laugh. If Jongdae is too drunk to type a single word right, he also is too drunk to make sure Sehun doesn’t die in his arms. He could call Sehun directly, but his phone is always on silence mode, and if Sehun has a slightest attractive guy before his eyes, picking up calls will be the last of his worries.
Instead, he settles for sleeping, putting the textbook on the floor and thinking that if he has to attend someone’s funeral in a couple of days, he deserves nice dreams beforehand.
Jongin wakes up to sex.
It’s not an unfamiliar situation, since he’s well acquainted with Sehun’s moans coming from the next room almost every weekend. He’s not used to the bangs against the wall though, because his friend is a vanilla sex guy and he definitely doesn’t like to be roughed -or to mistreat his beloved bedroom, for that matter. And particularly, not at nine in the morning. Jongin would feel compassion for him if it wasn’t because he deserves such an encounter for following Jongdae’s ideas. Although, to be honest, he’s kind of scared to discover what kind of man Sehun has brought home. It wouldn’t be the first time his affairs get messy.
Groaning, Jongin rolls out of the bed and checks his phone, but there are no texts from Jongdae. He doesn’t bother to put on his pajama pants, but he regrets it as soon as he pads to the living room. A mixture of relief and anger washes over him, the first because Jongdae is snoring on the couch, and the second because a shirtless, huge guy is sleeping on him as though he had assumed Jongdae was a cushion. Jongin doesn’t understand how his friend is able to breathe, let alone snore, but he doesn’t consider it for long as he approaches them without a tiny sign of mercy.
However, he’s taken aback when he reaches them, gaze falling on a half upper body that doesn’t have a single inch of free meat; from the lower back to the wrists, black tattoos cover what would have probably been a very pale skin otherwise. Jongin can tell because the guy doesn’t carry any colored tattoo, and the drawings are outlined both by ink and his own color. For a moment, he observes the muscles of his back in curiosity, tries to differentiate the images engraved on it, and then the logic slips back into his mind.
“You two!” Jongin yells, serving as a waking alarm. He yanks the stranger by the hair, because Jongdae’s people need unkind treatments to catch the signals, and also because Jongin knows how to deal with these type of situations. “Up and out of my house!”
The boy must be half-awake, because he jerks at Jongin’s attack, moving away from Jongdae so fast that he stumbles down the couch in confusion. His friend, on the other hand, simply rubs his eyes with a groan, as if he’s just having another nightmare in which Jongin is cruel despite his hangover.
“Don’t shout, man,” the tattooed boy says, grumbles, because his voice is both deep and hoarse, and Jongin doesn’t want to know what he did to gain a sore throat. What he wants to do, however, is to kick him now that he’s on the floor.
“Jongdae,” Jongin continues, disregarding the hissing he obtains. “You have three minutes to get this man out of my house. I swear I’m calling the police if you don’t.”
If Jongin has learnt a useful lesson through the years, it’s that ‘police’ is the magic word to sweep bad company away. Jongdae, with an arm over his eyes, laughs at his friend’s old technique, and searches with the other hand for the guy’s head - resting on the edge of the couch - to pat softly a pile of black hair. “Leave, Chan. The crazie isn’t joking.”
If there something Jongin excels at, it’s at being a good spectator. He is the best public a performer could wish: he never interferes in the show, but watches with an attentive mind; sometimes he looks forward to the end, but it’s impossible to tell by his face; and when the show fails, and one of the performers tumbles down and spoils all the work, Jongin is there to help.
Sehun is the next performer. This is a fact that his mind has some trouble processing, because Jongdae has been the protagonist for a long time and the public never settles well with changes. It takes him a while to smell the warnings, and when he does, it’s too late.
The first time Jongin meets Junmyeon is the same morning he first sees Chanyeol, just several hours later; it’s just that he doesn’t know any of their names yet. Sehun comes out from his bedroom with a smile and dark circles, messy hair and red spots all over his torso, and Jongin can’t help but to stare. Junmyeon, on the contrary, trails behind him completely clothed, a badly concealed hand on Sehun’s low back. Neither of them greet Jongin, because they really are great performers, and therefore the exchange of kisses at the door is as intimate as if they were alone. Jongin distinguishes the laughs, and then a unmistakable come to watch again, some time, yes?
And then, the show begins.
Illegal boxing, Sehun tells him, is beyond fun. “It’s not like in professional boxing. To begin with, they actually hit each other without gloves, and some weekends they remove several rules so that it’s more exciting. Junmyeon doesn’t fight in those though.”
His friend believes Junmyeon to the word, which becomes pretty ridiculous in Jongin’s eyes as soon as he talks to him in person. The man sends him a long look, as though he hadn’t noticed before someone else was living with Sehun, one of those stares that are more expressive than language. He hasn’t been around their home during the day, only visiting past 1 a.m. to have sex with Sehun, and Jongin fears his presence in the middle of the afternoon means the beginning of a real relationship between them.
“Do me a favour and don’t fool Sehun with one of your stories,” Jongin threatens him when his friend fades into the kitchen, and due to the wide experience Jongin has with bad boys, he doesn’t feel any terror when Junmyeon glares at him.
“One of my stories,” the other repeats.
Jongin grins with honesty, but that doesn’t mean it’s a positive gesture. It’s full of bitterness, so noticeable that Junmyeon won’t be able to ignore it. “About how pure you are in such a fucked up environment.”
Needless to say, both Sehun and Junmyeon disregard any concern Jongin has about them. Jongdae arrives each Saturday at the door, each weekend more handsome - Jongin notices it because he’s familiar with his strategies - and drags Sehun to watch boxing with him. At the point Sehun is with Junmyeon, he wouldn’t reject the proposition either way.
And everything is okay, everything is calm, until one night Sehun doesn’t get back alone or solely with his sexual company. His friend is aware that he’s breaking a cohabitation rule: if he wants to bring up more people, he has to call beforehand, and it doesn’t matter that Jongdae is one of the boys crossing the door, or that only one of them is unknown for Jongin.
Anyhow, not completely unknown. Jongin feels a jerk inside of him, something that grabs his attention, and he isn’t sure how he identifies the guy so fast. The most he saw of him were tattoos, which are now almost covered except for the ones that creep up his neck. He can see his face though, one that doesn’t quite fit the body it belongs to, a face that results childish if it weren’t for the bruises all over it. Jongin forces himself to draw his look away from him in feigned disinterest, but he’s very conscious of everything all of a sudden.
Jongin isn’t presentable for strangers. The heat has obliged him to wear only a pair of baggy shorts, and he’s laying on the couch, enjoying Big Hero 6 even though he’s supposed to do these type of activities with Sehun. Correction: he has two illegal boxers and Jongdae the man eater in the living room at the moment, he’s not supposed to be doing these type of activities at all.
“Are you guys okay with beer?” Sehun cheerfully asks them while they scatter around.
They all agree, and as Sehun disappears from their view, Jongin’s couch is invaded by the rest. As usual, Junmyeon doesn’t greet him, but Jongdae doesn’t miss a beat before throwing his arms around his shoulders and introducing him to the new guy.
“Chanyeol,” Jongdae simply says, flashing an adorable smile towards Jongin as to obtain his approval. He isn’t sure what it means, and it confuses him. The way Jongdae expects a reaction from him makes Jongin wonder if Jongdae wants Chanyeol for himself or if he already got him.
Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, but he sits next to them with his big body, big arms and big presence, and Jongin is surprised to perceive Chanyeol makes him become very small in comparison. He roams his eyes over Chanyeol’s face, having a close-up of the clear bruise on his cheekbone, but he looks away when Chanyeol stares back. He inspects him with one of those gazes, just that it isn’t similar to the ones Junmyeon gives all the time. It’s different, one that seizes every bit of Jongin’s bare skin slowly, as to memorize him, and then Chanyeol glances up with an amused tug of his lips to find Jongin’s dilated pupils.
“Not all my friends are this attractive, I swear.” Jongdae holds up his hands in defense, jokingly smiling at Chanyeol. He pats Jongin’s stomach like his friend is a piece of meat, and the boy tries to be discreet while pushing his hands away. “I wouldn’t hide them from you.”
Jongin doesn’t get the joke, but Chanyeol returns the same gesture Jongdae has plastered all over his face, and then talks without a trace of shame. “Sure. He really is a pretty thing.”
The movie is still playing on the small TV, forgotten until Chanyeol turns his head to look at it in confusion. Jongin would have turned it off to save himself the embarrassment, but he doesn’t mind anymore. Trouble is here and has called him pretty, and he loathes liking it - he doesn’t like it, because those are empty words. Jongin is never called pretty, for his personality ruins anything of his outer appearance that can give him that name, and he’s okay with it.
Chanyeol holds his eye without any expression, and the shiver that runs down Jongin’s spine is enough for him to decide it’s the moment to make his exit. He mutters a dry goodnight while Jongdae laughs at him, as if he can read his thoughts, which much to his dismay, it’s probably true.
“Hey, you sleeping already?” Sehun asks when they run into each other, arms flooded with a bunch of beer cans. Jongin is grateful for the disappointment in his tone, but he’s aware he won’t be that happy when Sehun pulls Junmyeon to his bedroom tonight.
When Jongin closes his bedroom’s door, he understands what is happening, understands the deep danger of what there is in the living room: Chanyeol has that charm, because it’s one single look and Jongin is a goner.
Chanyeol comes back. Although Jongin hasn't given Jongdae permission to bring along his friends, Sehun is enough of a reason for them to ignore Jongin's complaints. He doesn't feel like he's a part of it; he sits down in the living room with his Math books, scribbling down things until the boys burst through the door and interrupt him. Sometimes Jongdae takes his books and forces him to stay with them, even if he’s bored because of the boxing and fighting tales; he’s more surprised by the way Chanyeol laughs, loud and dumb in contrast with the menacing stares he throws towards Jongin. He takes advantage of the moments Chanyeol is distracted to examine the new wounds that appear every time, curious and horrified at the same time.
Jongin doesn’t mind Chanyeol’s mere presence, but he does mind him invading his imagination, showing up at his home and stealing glances from him at every chance he has. Chanyeol's gaze always falls upon him, not intimidated by the way Jongin stares back - unfriendly, almost challenging. Jongin dreams of his arms, of caressing his torso as he’s underneath him, and fears what Chanyeol has to offer - maybe something addictive, maybe something Jongin won’t want to release later. Jongin is fresh blood, an uncorrupted good boy that has, however, experienced corruption; he knows Chanyeol would have a lot to corrupt him with.
“Bye, pretty thing,” Chanyeol always says as a goodbye, not minding the boys’ cackles when they hear him.
It wouldn’t be a problem for Jongin if it weren’t because, even before Chanyeol manages to finish his farewell, a wicked smile is appearing on his lips. By the time he turns around, Jongin can distinguish the laughter coming from him and Junmyeon.
In all honesty, Jongin hates Junmyeon. He hates how stupid Sehun becomes with his mere mention and how he keeps appearing at home as if it’s his own. He hates finding him eating his breakfast in the mornings and opening the fridge with the only purpose of emptying it. And when Jongin is positive his box of hate is full and he can close it forever, Junmyeon shows up one day and directs his attention towards him, Sehun laughing behind him in anticipation of what Junmyeon is going to spit.
“Chanyeol says you have a nice ass and asks if he can have it,” Junmyeon announces, raised brows in a playful way that Jongin hasn’t seen before. “Well, he hasn’t exactly said that. It was more like an affirmation, not a question.”
The most embarrassing thing about it isn’t the fact that they go around talking about Jongin’s ass when he’s not with them - Jongin himself is the first to rate any guy’s butt that crosses his path - but the way his cheeks burn at the indirect flirting. Sehun passes by and pokes at his face in order to make him self-conscious, and Junmyeon just waits for the answer although he has already received it.
“Tell him that I said no,” Jongin refuses then, and a second later the amusement fades away from Junmyeon’s face.
It’s a tiny victory, and Jongin has never fought in a war before.
“Chanyeol asks if he can have your number. Something about small steps.”
Jongin emits a choked noise in order not to laugh. It’s just a week later when Jongdae turns into the messenger. Jongin doesn’t know what kind of game Chanyeol is playing, since if he’s so infatuated with him, he could go and ask by himself; instead, he opts for giving signs of interest that could mean nothing anyway. It bothers Jongin, being chased like this, or perhaps being chased at all, since he’s used to being the one who crushed on boys like a fool.
“No.”
Jongdae sips on his coffee, sunglasses still on even though they’re inside a cafe, and Jongin wonders if his hangover is that bad. He usually has good endurance.
“Too late. I already gave it to him.”
There’s an invisible tension in the environment, sliding through Jongin’s throat as a reflect of Jongdae’s impassive façade. It scares him, because he doesn’t catch up with the events, doesn’t comprehend what’s the connection between this conversation and his friend’s grief.
“Are you interested in Chanyeol?” Jongin questions in a mutter, timid gaze roaming on the table.
“Not if you are.”
Jongin looks up to find Jongdae’s feline smile spreading on his lips and, again, he’s lost. He guesses that from his friend’s point of view the situation can result comical, given that Jongdae is the one who seduces bad boys all the time.
He stutters at first, but then he manages to deny it, “I’m not.”
“I thought so. Then you asked,” teases Jongdae. Then a sigh, and he’s taking off the sunglasses, revealing eyes that are redder than white. “I don’t like him, you know that. I move on fast.”
However, Jongin doesn’t believe the false confidence. If Jongdae had even shared a silly thing like a kiss with Chanyeol, he would have run to tell Jongin, so he can be sure about that part. There isn’t anything to move on from when it comes to Chanyeol. Therefore, his words aren’t about him, though Jongin would rather they were.
“Is this about Baekhyun?” Jongin whispers before he realizes his mistake, yet Jongdae doesn’t react at the name. “You’re doing that thing again. Baekhyun doesn’t want your help, I think that was clear crystal since he let his pimp beat you up.”
“Yeah,” Jongdae answers casually, as if he doesn’t mind Jongin being suspicious of his behavior. “Crystal clear.”
A part of Jongin anticipates a text from Chanyeol during the next days, although he didn’t give permission for it. Another part thinks that if a text suddenly had appeared in his phone, he would have thought Chanyeol was a creep. Maybe he’s a creep regardless; Jongin just knows that it would be better not to push his buttons, just in case he decides all of a sudden he isn’t all that pretty and forgets the reasons not to punch him when Jongin snaps at him.
What he wouldn’t have expected, not even if the world stopped and turned around, is Chanyeol ringing his doorbell. When Jongin opens the door and sees the boy standing in front of him, he doesn’t recognize Chanyeol at first. He’s wearing jeans and a white jumper that cover almost every tattoo, and he looks so normal that Jongin feels uneasy at the view. Normal, that is, except because he makes Jongin’s legs tremble.
“I agreed to meet Jongdae here, ” Chanyeol announces with a grin full of perfect teeth and, not allowing a chance to close the door in his face, he steps in with his hands in his pockets, dodging a confused Jongin at the entrance.
Jongin is thankful today he has normal clothes on, suddenly attacked by the realization that this is the first time Chanyeol doesn’t find him only with his shorts on. That could explain why Jongin raises passions, walking around half-naked. “Jongdae isn’t here though.”
His words are ignored, since Chanyeol is already sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him, a valiant smirk to accompany. And Jongin has no option, because what is he going to do? There’s no one else in the house, and there’s no way he’s leaving a troublesome man alone in the living room, not one that sits on the couch like he’s a king.
It’s hard to stare into Chanyeol’s eyes, especially when they follow Jongin’s movements as though he is about to burst into snickers. Jongin has never felt so clumsy, so observed, so intimidated, even if he has dealt with illegal racers, pimps and gamblers in the past. Chanyeol is no good, and his stomach painfully twisting is just the last warning - it’s the first time they’re alone and he has nowhere to run.
When Jongin dares meeting his, restless, Chanyeol is subtly leaning towards him, lips pulling upwards.
“You really are a pretty thing, Jongin,” he declares, and Jongin swears his voice is so low that echoes within his bones. “One that is scared of me for some reason. You know I hit dudes for money, right? I’m not going to punch you unless you pay me. You into that?”
Perhaps because it takes an astonished Jongin more than five seconds to answer, Chanyeol’s left brow shoots up in interest and, upon noticing what he must be thinking, Jongin blushes.
“No,” he scoffs, breaking the eye contact as he tries to maintain some pride. “I’m not scared of you either. I just don’t frequent anywhere Jongdae likes going to. It’s like… ah, a matter of security.”
Much to Jongin’s surprise, Chanyeol doesn’t ridicule him for his explanation. He remembers Sehun doing it when he told him the reason. You sound like my mother, he had said, and Jongin had blabbered several excuses.
“I see,” Chanyeol replies instead. The smirk is long gone now, but he moves forward, arm sneaking over the backrest. “What about me going somewhere you like?”
It catches Jongin completely off guard, so he doesn’t process the question before making the fatal mistake. “What? Like where?”
To begin with, Jongin reads the triumph in Chanyeol’s eyes. And in second place, he catches his gaze dropping on his lips for a fleeting second. The great effect that tiny detail has on him is beyond scary; Jongin knows what Chanyeol is thinking, and he isn’t so reticent to the idea. “You’re in university, so… uni parties? You look like the type.”
I look like the type, Jongin repeats inside his head, retaining a laugh. He sure is, too, because parties are a soft activity compared to other Jongin’s experiences. “I don’t think that would be much fun for you.”
Right away, Jongin perceives Chanyeol is analyzing him, though it’s not that hard to notice how he interlaces his fingers together over his lap, how Jongin isn’t capable of holding his gaze. Chanyeol just lets out a breathy laugh.
“I’m sure my parties are much more fun,” he agrees. It sounds so cocky that Jongin can’t conceal the birth of a smile. Chanyeol knows nothing about him. “But that’s my problem, isn’t it?”
Perhaps it is, in case Jongin doesn’t care about being dragged down. However, five minutes after Chanyeol’s departure, Jongin remembers he was supposed to meet Jongdae here, which was obviously a lie. And that white lie is definitely Jongin’s problem too.
"You have a date with Chanyeol!"
It's unnerving how confident Sehun sounds shouting that at 4 a.m., almost breaking Jongin's bedroom door as he comes in and climbs onto his bed. Jongin releases a threatening grumble, but Sehun is already shaking him by the shoulder to wake him up.
"Are you going to let him fuck you on the first date, hmm?" Sehun asks with a chuckle, forever a pervert ready to harass. "I bet you are."
Jongin wishes he could punch him, but he's too tired to function. "I don't have a fucking date with Chanyeol. Tell him if he thinks that."
"Oh yeah, he warned me you just will go to a party. Like, with us," Sehun says as he leans down with a smirk. "I'll make sure we disappear within the first hour, don't worry. So that you can seduce Chanyeol telling him smart numbers stuff."
Jongin can't help but to laugh at that, because yes, smart numbers stuff was useful to get into Minseok's pants, a senior from the Education Major, but he's sure Chanyeol would ditch him if he started boring him that way. Although he seems to be the only one who thinks Jongin is a pretty guy, so he can always switch off and not actually listen to him - just watch his face.
Jongdae whistles when he steps into the apartment, his eyes travelling directly at Jongin's figure. He does whistle in a way that would disturb anyone, but it doesn’t work on Jongin after so many years.
"That's my Kim Jongin, the high school heartbreaker, leveling up to sexy intelligent college man.” He laughs, patting his butt and perhaps, also pawing it a little. "I'm not responsible if Chanyeol tries to eat you as soon as you're alone. Only god knows I would if I were your date."
Jongin rolls his eyes, yet his stomach curls in uneasiness at the prospect of how Chanyeol plans to treat him tonight. "For the last time, it's not a date. And I might haven't had sex in a while-"
"In five months!" Sehun shouts from his bedroom, and damn it, Jongin can hear Junmyeon sneering at it even from this distance.
"But I'm not going to sleep with the first hot guy that crosses my way," Jongin insists. Much to his disgrace, the three of them snort at it.
The statement, despite being completely logical, isn’t that easy to follow when Jongin spots Chanyeol. He's waiting for them in the street where the party is, hips leaning back against a car - his, Jongin supposes - and swaying his keys in impatience. Jongin becomes breathless when the man checks him out in interest, appreciating the first time he meets Jongin when he’s not been studying or watching a Disney movie.
Jongin doesn't admit it, not even to himself, but he's only able to think about sex when he sees Chanyeol. His arms are exposed, muscles tensed, and a part of Jongin wants to pass his hands all over them, stroke him to verify if his arms are as firm as they look. Dressed all in black, he reeks bad boy more than usual, and that should be enough warning for Jongin, who simply shoves the thought away.
As Jongdae hurries to hug Chanyeol's waist and plant a kiss on his cheek, Chanyeol smiles at Jongin over his friend's shoulder. He responds in agitation, noticing how Chanyeol's stare lingers on him more than normal, always, until Jongin is inwardly shaking.
"You're quite hot for someone who passes the day doing maths," Chanyeol comments as he moves a clingy Jongdae away, smile fading as though he wants Jongin to realize he's not joking.
Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but he has no idea what to say. It doesn't matter, though, because the next second Chanyeol is putting both of his hands on his sides and bending to give him a greeting kiss too. It's a silly gesture, really, but Jongin isn't capable of holding back a faint gasp, and it's way too embarrassing that Chanyeol is too close to miss it. When he straightens again and Jongin can observe his whole face, Chanyeol arches a brow in a silent question. He already has his answers.
Nevertheless, Jongin forgets about it when they enter the party. Chanyeol isn't near awkward with him; he takes him to dance for a while, shy smiles blooming on Jongin's lips every time they look at each other, conceited ones on Chanyeol's. And when they get tired of dancing, Chanyeol gets him a drink because 'these parties are full of people poisoning the drinks'.
"You having fun?" Chanyeol asks him, putting a hand on his back as he offers him the drink. He seems way too comfortable with him, and Jongin isn't bothered by it, but he fears that the fact that he's not able to touch Chanyeol back will make the tension grow between them.
"Yeah. You look like you are too."
Chanyeol thinks about it for a moment, and bites his lower lip in a way that Jongin bets it's on purpose. He finds himself eyeing his mouth without remedy. "I am," Chanyeol says at last, and his fingers graze over Jongin's back as if he’s repressing the need to caress him. "I still think my parties are more fun though, but you would get into trouble easily."
All of a sudden, Jongin has the urge to hit Chanyeol like he would do to Jongdae, yet that's out of limits for him. Instead, he laughs so loud that it's embarrassing and spits. "Me? Into trouble?"
Chanyeol doesn't give him a reason, but the way he looks at him is enough for Jongin to understand that Chanyeol has an idea of him very different from what he should. Maybe Jongdae has told him their past stories, which don't portray Jongin as the boy he looks like.
It's scary how the conversation flows with him, how at ease Jongin is with Chanyeol's fingers leaving discreet, small strokes on his back, on his waist and through his hair. There are trivial giggles here and there, and Jongin starts to wonder if they're coming from him or from Chanyeol and, at some point of the night, when they end on one of the couches of the house, Jongin realizes he hasn't seen his friends in a long time. It may be dangerous, because he has had way too many drinks by now, while on the contrary Chanyeol is still very lucid. Perhaps that's why he dares to brush down Chanyeol's arm, feeling how his muscles contract beneath his touch. As he stares up at his eyes, Chanyeol has an expression he’s unable to interpret.
“What is it with the tattoos?” Jongin utters then, although his voice can still be heard over the music. It has something to do with the proximity between them, just that Jongin is too drunk to be aware of it.
“Oh, those?” Chanyeol asks, looking at his own arms as though he has just noticed the ink all over his body. “They’re just jail tattoos. You know, you have to get them to belong to a prison gang and all that, and then it's one after another for each man you kill.”
Right away, Jongin slaps a hand over his mouth to control the laughter, and Chanyeol smiles in pride for having dragged such a reaction from him.
“Your jokes are lame.”
Chanyeol's lips twist up in amusement. “You like them, though.”
"I'm easy," Jongin replies immediately, and it's only when the words are out that they sound like pure cheap porn. "I m-mean-"
Anyhow, he doesn't have time to correct himself, because out of the blue Chanyeol passes his fingertips along his thigh in an attempt to calm him down. "Easy, right. Like you haven't passed the last three weeks glaring at me."
"I haven't!"
"Come on," Chanyeol laughs, getting up, a last stroke over the fabric of Jongin’s jeans. "You're too drunk. I'm taking you home.”
Jongin leans back on the couch as a silent protest, but he wiggles his eyebrows at Chanyeol as he repeats. “You’re taking me? In your car, huh?”
Bravery is a side effect of Jongin’s drunk state, but if he remembers this tomorrow - and he always does - it’s going to be mortifying. However, Chanyeol simply forces him to detach himself from the couch and leads him through the house and towards his car. Jongin remembers for a moment Chanyeol has drunk too, and that it isn’t a good idea, but the thought flies away and he shifts into the car without a worry.
There’s a moment of inner panic, next morning, when Jongin starts going back to life. His hangover could be much worse, he decides right away, but then he notices there’s someone else in his bed, a warm body and heavy breathing, and most importantly, on top of him.
“Well, well, look who we’ve got here,” the intruder jokes after clicking his tongue. Jongin doesn’t need more to know it’s Jongdae, and the relief washes over him because he hasn’t done anything stupid - sleeping with Chanyeol, specifically. He lazily opens his eyes to meet an after-party Jongdae that looks like he hasn’t had any sleep, sitting on him comfortably. “Chanyeol has interesting stories about you from yesterday.”
Jongin must have sputtered a wide range of nonsense last night, yet he doesn’t recall something worth remembering. So, uninterested, he croaks, “What?”
The leer that blossoms on Jongdae’s face is a nightmare for Jongin, for he knows right away that he has told Chanyeol something important. “First of all, he left you here like a gentleman, but you were being quite pushy. You asked him if he wasn’t going to make out with you or what. Then he got into a smart mode, that I didn’t know he had by the way, and told you that he would make out with you if you attended one of his fights.”
“No,” Jongin gasps.
“You said yes, of course.” Jongdae pats his chest as Jongin rolls his head back in despair. “Because Chanyeol’s hot ass is too much for you to refuse.”
This means that he has exactly one week to come up with an excuse. The problem is that any excuse is going to be taken like a lie, and that he enjoyed last night with Chanyeol too much to not be evident and discover himself as a coward.
“He really is, damn it,” Jongin complains as Jongdae nestles on him, sinking his head in the crook of Jongin’s neck. “This is all your fault.”
“Yeah,” his friend breathes out, snickering. “You’re welcome.”
“I beg you, Jongin, don’t give anyone your bitch face,” Sehun pleads with him as he grips the steering wheel, parking so clumsily that Jongin fears for their lives.
Jongdae, careless, mumbles something about how Jongin can’t help his bitch face, but the other still asks, “Why?”
They’re a pair of streets away from the boxing local, yet the place is already decadent and empty. If Jongin was in Sehun’s place, he wouldn’t leave his car here like a present to be robbed, but apparently it isn’t the first time Sehun has done this.
“Cause you’ll have a broken nose before you can even blink,” Sehun responds, pulling away the car keys and glancing back at him through the rear mirror. “And guess who won’t like your pretty face anymore.”
When they enter the locale, Jongin realizes that he could get into an argument even if he held his bitch face back. The boxing ring is barely viewable for the cloud of smoke rising up from the public, and as Jongdae leads them to the first row, Jongin senses how some men stare at them as though they are a bunch of kids stepping into a club. However, that’s the last of Jongin’s worries, because then he spots who is already inside the ring and he immediately regrets having fallen into this trap.
Chanyeol has his back to them, but for some reason Jongin remembers his tattoos in enough detail to know it’s him. It doesn’t help to discover that he has been hiding the ones on his legs, multiples runes running all over his skin in phrases that end dissolving and mixing with others midway.
His opponent, however, has nothing to envy him. He's at least as corpulent as him, though Jongin can tell he has more experience because his nose looks like it has been broken several times. He knows beforehand that he isn't going to like this show, specially because Chanyeol doesn't have a face to be beaten, and who in this world gets into boxing without gloves and proper protection?
"Get ready for the blood," Jongdae tells him in his ear, indifferent at the troubled expression of his friend.
Even in the case Jongin had received a thousand warnings, he wouldn't have been prepared for something of this caliber. He has to avert his gaze during the first minute of the fight, walk to a corner of the locale where he isn't able to see anything - or to hear the hits, the groans and the flesh crashing against flesh - and he stays there until the fight ends. He does hear Chanyeol's name being announced as the winner, but he's so sick right now that he can't even bring himself to be content. Even if Chanyeol must be in a better state than his opponent, thirty seconds were enough for Jongin to realize that better doesn't imply good.
Jongin finds Jongdae searching for him, and his friend immediately lectures him for disappearing on him without previous notice. A concerned Jongdae isn't usual, so Jongin is too dumbfounded to defend himself. However, he drags Jongin around the locale and towards the boxers’ rooms. Jongdae pushes the first door of the hall and rushes Jongin to enter, and the first person he recognizes is Chanyeol, laying on a couch while Junmyeon hovers over him with disinfectant and cotton. Sehun is on his other side, poking at his wounds on purpose as the boxer hisses.
Right away, Chanyeol’s eyes flick towards Jongin’s figure, the gestures of pain halting altogether. “You brought me the cure,” he says, one of his smirks blooming.
The flushed cheeks are a dead giveaway for Jongin, because even though it sounds like a lame pick up line, Chanyeol seems serious about it.
“Don’t mind him,” Junmyeon says, batting a hand while he passes a piece of cotton over the wounds on Chanyeol's chin. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
He’s pale, indeed, having into account he already is in normal conditions, so Jongin approaches him in concern. Chanyeol keeps smiling at him though, as if he's enchanted by Jongin's presence, and remarks, "You came."
There's a subtle question in his statement, because they made a deal while Jongin was drunk and sober Jongin has accepted it too. However, Junmyeon is looking between the two, and Jongin doesn't want to have this conversation in front of their friends.
Chanyeol grasps Junmyeon by the wrist to make him stop. "Move away.”
“Rot in hell then,” his friend replies, throwing the cotton at his face as Chanyeol laughs.
Jongin hesitates for a moment, aware that not only Chanyeol’s attention is on him. But seconds later Jongdae is messing around and he relaxes, and it doesn’t seem so dangerous to let it go a bit.
“You really should disinfect those,” Jongin points out as soon as he sits down.
Chanyeol becomes serious at the observation, but clutches the cotton and offers it to Jongin, who stares at the piece in confusion. “Help me?”
It’s an understatement to say Jongin is surprised. He glances at his friends for a second, yet they’re occupied talking about some party they intend to go, and to be honest with himself, Jongin feels quite brave. He takes the cotton from Chanyeol’s grasp and reaches out for the brush on his cheekbone, and the man, who hasn’t seemed serious about the proposition, freezes at the contact.
“Okay,” Chanyeol breathes out, shocked, and Jongin has to retain a smile.
“Now what?” He presses the piece of cotton softly, tracing Chanyeol’s cheekbone , and his voice drops several tones as he continues in a whisper, “Wanna make out with me?”
Jongin plans it to sound like a joke, but it gets out of control. It sounds like a plea, almost needy, and Chanyeol is soon passing his tongue over his lips, impatient. His gaze drops on Jongin’s mouth fleetingly, and then he stares up again with a, “Wanna do more than that.”
A shiver travels down Jongin’s body and his insides twist, pulling - begging - him to lay on this same couch and allow Chanyeol to fuck him like this, without tip-toeing around each other anymore. He wants it, and it’s such a powerful need that he doesn’t care anymore about the consequences, about Chanyeol being a bad guy and not the proper company, or about how he has already fallen for this trap though he assured himself he wouldn’t. And he’s not the only one in the game, judging the predatory shine that reflects on Chanyeol’s features when Jongin doesn’t answer.
“He lost too much blood,” Junmyeon repeats again, appearing at Chanyeol’s side and putting a hand on his shoulder. The interruption shoves them both out of the tension, and Junmyeon gazes at Jongin as though he can read whatever is going on his mind, to warn him he’s not going to touch Chanyeol tonight.
The next day, Taemin appears at Jongin’s apartment without previous notice. Not by himself, however, because Jongdae brings him as a surprise. He’s only lacking the gift wrapping.
Taemin, the boy who completed the golden trio of hopeless children when they were young. Taemin, the boy whose parents forced to move houses with the only purpose to get him away from Jongdae and Jongin. The same boy who, after all, kept up with the friendship throughout the years. Maybe also the boy whom Jongin had been hooking up with before they both definitely parted for college. Not the best decision Jongin made during those days, now that he thinks about it, although he has probably forgotten how deprived of sex he was at the time. Who is better than someone who knows and loves you to fool around with, anyways?
“Woah, you look like shit,” Taemin spits as soon as Jongin opens the door, and also right before Jongin crushes him in a bear hug.
“What is this? Who is this?” Sehun asks, walking around in pants around the apartment with a bottle of water in his hands.
Although Jongin and Taemin are still all around each other - one of them definitely crying -Jongdae ignores them and steps in with a bright smile, “Squad is back.”
"What squad," Sehun grumbles as he sends Taemin a judgmental glare. Both friends separate with pathetic sobs and the new boy wipes his eyes with his sleeve; Jongin seems about to start crying too, and Sehun is profoundly offended because Kim Jongin didn't cry when he left the apartment for a week. "We're supposed to go out tonight, is he coming along?"
Everyone is determined to overlook the hints of incomprehensible jealousy from Sehun, because Jongin is already turning to look at Taemin with expectant eyes and Jongdae nods before he can even answer.
"Of course he's coming along." Jongdae laughs and pats a baggy-eyed Sehun on the back. "Where's your boyfriend?"
Even though Taemin has started to cling onto Jongin, back hugging and sinking his head on his shoulder, Jongin has enough force to mock Sehun, "Not his boyfriend, just the guy that has made a crack on his bedroom wall."
"Poor you," Taemin whines.
"Yeah, right? It's nasty to hear them. Worse having to see their faces the next morning."
In the course of the day, Sehun happens to grow a deep dislike towards Taemin, which is pretty funny to Jongin because that's just how he feels about Junmyeon. Also, because he didn't picture Sehun as a boy who would be protective over friendships, specially having into account that he has never had a problem with Jongdae.
However, Jongin can't be happier about this. It's true that Taemin will be gone before Monday comes and that they won't see him for another two whole months, but Jongin doesn't plan to sleep tonight so that he can torment Taemin with questions all night, drunk or not. He almost forgets they're meeting Chanyeol and Junmyeon too, at least until they arrive at the bar and the two tall men can be spotted even from the entrance. And Jongin remembers he hasn't told Taemin anything about Chanyeol, wonders if he should have.
He's not conscious of the hand holding with Taemin until he senses Chanyeol's gaze focused on it, or how he searches for Jongin's face later, a notable scowl that he can't help. Jongin knows it's silly, but it feels wrong. The mere thought of Chanyeol feeling bad makes his stomach hurl, makes him want to explain that he isn't going to end with Taemin on the bed tonight, or tomorrow, or ever again.
"You're late, always late, and you don't even try not to look like tramps," Junmyeon is rambling when they sit around the table. Jongin makes sure of slipping in the seat besides Chanyeol to make himself stand out, though Chanyeol just spares him a glance before looking at Taemin again. "Not you, Sehun."
"I know," the guy responds in all his smugness.
Jongdae introduces Taemin to everyone, and though Jongin is a bit off at first, he's happy to see that after a few rounds of alcohol the group works pretty well. Bold once again, Jongin dares to rest himself against Chanyeol, who moves his arm to surround his waist and let him enough space on his chest. This, nevertheless, catches Jongdae's attention right away.
"You're like a step away from fucking," he announces, settling his beer on the table with a smash. Jongin exchanges a look with Taemin, who has new questions painted all over his face. "Congrats."
"What would you know about fucking, you failed to fuck with me when we met," Chanyeol slurs with a snicker.
Jongin recalls the morning he first saw Chanyeol and adds, "I found you on top of him though."
"I thought he was the couch!"
"You two are together?" Taemin cuts off then, gesturing towards Jongin and Chanyeol. He doesn't seem bothered for it, but Jongin is able to read the hidden expression, the displeasure because Jongin hasn't mentioned anything while Taemin tells him everything.
It's Chanyeol who stares back at Taemin, defying, "No."
"Good," Taemin laughs, eyes twinkling in mischievousness. This is a bad signal, and both of his friends know about it, but Jongdae is too occupied with his drink to stop him and Jongin can't possibly stop him without being suspicious. "Because Jongin is hard to please, wouldn't I know. So fucking horny all the time."
Taemin has drank too much, so has Jongin. Enough not to get mad at him for subtly revealing their past, but not enough to misinterpret the look Chanyeol flashes at him, disappointment on the curves of his mouth.
"You two are a thing?" he mutters, low voice that seeps through Jongin's body.
Jongin would have to be an asshole to have played Chanyeol like that while being tied to another person. "Of course not."
"But we were!" Taemin exclaims, white teeth shining in the dark bar. He swallows the rest of his drink and winks at Jongin, who is currently trying to tell him to shut up by shaking his head. His friend, however, doesn't pick up at Chanyeol's face. "He was my pretty cockslut."
Jongin gapes for a moment, scandalized. Not because Taemin is wrong, since Jongin considers himself rather passionate when it comes to sex - completely loses his head when he has a dick up in his ass - but because this isn't supposed to be heard by anyone apart from them two. And with all that, it doesn't seem important compared to Chanyeol's reaction.
"What the fuck?!" he yells, furious. Everyone jumps, startled, and Chanyeol gets up and knocks his glass by accident, its content spreading over the table in the process. Then he looks down at Jongin and assures him, "I'm going to punch your friend."
Everything happens too fast. Much to Taemin's luck, Jongin prevents Chanyeol from fulfilling his threat in time, grabs him by both arms so that his friend doesn't receive a hit from an illegal boxer. Chanyeol tries to shake him off for a moment, but he gives in when he sees Jongin’s expression - alarmed, almost in panic.
"I think we should call it off," Junmyeon hurries to say as Jongin pulls Chanyeol back, and the scared faces of the rest of the boys are enough of a response.
Chanyeol is mad. But, however, Jongin is madder. When they exit the pub, Chanyeol strides to his car without saying a word, and it’s then when Jongin realizes he’s not going to let him get away with his behavior. He hurries to bid his friends goodbye, though Jongdae tries to persuade him not to go after Chanyeol now because it’s counter productive. He deliberately ignores the advice and follows him to his car.
Jongin’s steps echo in the parking, mild darkness surrounding him, even if the place has enough light for him to watch how Chanyeol turns around and waits for him. Resting against his old car with crossed arms, he appears even angrier.
It’s as if a magnet pulls Jongin’s strings; he has come to argue with Chanyeol, to fight with him, yet that’s the last thing they do when they’re close to touching each other. Jongin doesn’t stop walking, breathless, and Chanyeol welcomes the crash with hungry eyes and hungry lips. All of a sudden Jongin is moaning into a messy kiss, allowing Chanyeol to bite him, to savour his lips with his tongue; he’s complying when Chanyeol grasps the back of his hair and pulls, forcing him to expose his neck, submissive, whimpering, ready to take whatever Chanyeol wants to give him.
“Get into the fucking car,” Chanyeol grunts against jaw, letting Jongin hold onto his waist as though he can’t stand on his own. “I’m going to teach you what being a cockslut is.”
Jongin doesn’t even have time to obey before Chanyeol is opening the backseat door and pushing him inside. He fumbles for a moment, until the door closes again and Chanyeol takes him from behind, hands on his hips to turn him around. He just gasps as he is laid down on the seat, Chanyeol hovering over him, and thinks that he doesn’t care they are in a car in the middle of a parking lot, he wants Chanyeol to fuck him hard without further questions.
But Chanyeol doesn’t seem to comply. He takes his time, fingers pressing up Jongin’s thighs until they’re on the hem of his jeans, and Jongin raises his hips as to ask him to pull them down. Chanyeol doesn’t, a hidden smirk starting to emerge from the corner of his mouth, until he rubs Jongin’s hardness, pushing him down again at the touch. It’s the long waiting that has Jongin already hard, cock aching for the feeling, so as soon as Chanyeol’s palm caresses him, he can’t help but to search for more and more pressure.
“Let me-” he whines, raising his hips once more, but then the boy unzips his jeans and pulls down, and Jongin is only to breath out a raspy, “Chanyeol.”
“What?” he teases him, leaning down until he’s kissing Jongin’s sternum, hot breath tickling on his skin.
Somehow, Jongin manages to get rid of his underwear too as Chanyeol sucks down his chest, being left with his half bottom completely naked, although that’s the last thing he thinks as he fists his own dick, impatient.
Chanyeol needs a second before realizing Jongin is touching himself, but the dark, possessive look that clouds his expression tells Jongin what he needs to know. He removes Jongin’s hand and wraps his own fingers around Jongin’s length, and the foreign touch, the warm skin rubbing the head of his cock draws a long moan from Jongin.
“Here? In the back of my car? In a parking lot?” Chanyeol continues, trying to embarrass him. Jongin just keens, the growing pressure erasing any shame from his mind. “Is that the kind of guy you are, hmm?”
Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but with Chanyeol’s hand stroking up and down, he forgets the question and pleads instead, “Yes, that’s- that’s, oh god.”
He hears Chanyeol’s laughter, hoarse with arousal, before he lets him go. The car isn’t too big and Chanyeol reaches for the glove compartment without much trouble, but Jongin takes advantage of the moment to get rid of his shirt and move to Chanyeol’s zipper. He doesn’t even bother to pull his jeans down, hands sticking inside to grab Chanyeol’s cock; he gasps for a second, caught off guard, until he’s back with the lube in his hands and eyes that roam over Jongin’s full nakedness.
It isn’t fair though, that Chanyeol has him naked on the backseat like a present, while he’s still fully clothed. Chanyeol seems oblivious, eager as he opens the lube, so Jongin snatches it off his hands and defies him, “Your clothes first, tattoo boy.”
Chanyeol hesitates for a second, as though he’s reticent to receive orders, but a moment later he’s consenting, exposing a whole torso covered in ink. And Jongin wants to touch, wants to be touched, now that he has come to terms with something that he forbid for himself all this time. When Chanyeol, pants already off and his cock sprung free, looks up at him again, he finds Jongin already with his own fingers up his ass.
Jongin is conscious of the grunt that Chanyeol releases, aroused by the scene, by the mere fact that Jongin hasn’t been able to wait for him to get naked. Chanyeol seems to hesitate, gaze playing between the way Jongin’s fingers disappear inside him and how his lips part in silent pleasure, chest going up and down; it’s just a small pause before he grabs Jongin and pushes two of his fingers in, not letting Jongin time to remove his own. The guy gasps and spreads his legs open further so that he can stick out his fingers, so that Chanyeol’s able to set a rhythm as he replaces Jongin’s.
It’s just a moment later when Chanyeol dips down and Jongin feels his warm tongue caressing his rim. All he can do is moan, speechless, as Chanyeol grasps his thighs and forces them up, only using his tongue to prepare him. Jongin has the urge of taking Chanyeol by the hair, but as soon as he attempts it, the man blocks him.
“We’re not going to do this, not this way,” Chanyeol warns him, in a low tone that shows that whether Jongin likes it or not, he doesn’t have a say in it.
He doesn’t pay attention, though, until Chanyeol lets go, leaving him open and ready, and he doesn’t have another option but to ask, “This way?”
The corner of Chanyeol’s mouth shoots up, like a master would smile at his puppet, just lightened by the weak light of the inside of the car. Jongin shivers when Chanyeol bends down, pressing his lips on his chest as he looks up at him. “With you on your back,” he clarifies, hands caressing Jongin’s side while he sits up, and then he whispers, “Instead, I want to see how you ride me.”
Again, it’s not a discussion, even though Jongin’s whine is more than an agreement. Chanyeol grasps him as if he didn’t weigh a single pound, and Jongin takes advantage to suck on the tattoos he has all over his neck. There’s not much space in the car, so he ends pressed against Chanyeol’s chest, straddling him as the other fishes for another long kiss. When Jongin pulls away, he’s burning to the last nerve of his body, but he still has breath to gasp when he feels Chanyeol’s guiding his dick against his rim. The man sends him a look, a pause to appreciate Jongin’s neediness that seems like an eternity, and then thrusts upwards and all the way in. Even after being prepared, Jongin is speechless for a moment, holding onto his shoulders until Chanyeol starts sliding out.
“Pretty,” Chanyeol growls, coiling his hands around Jongin’s waist.
Jongin passes his fingers over Chanyeol’s tattooed chest, knees giving in so that he sits down on Chanyeol completely. He does it too fast, which makes the boxer moan almost inaudibly, but Jongin only thinks about how he wants much more. He leans against the back of the front seat to support himself besides the hands on Chanyeol’s knees, and it’s then, when he’s with his legs spread wide and Chanyeol has a perfect view of him, he moves.
Chanyeol’s breathing becomes irregular as soon as Jongin fucks himself on his cock, though it’s painfully slow at first. Either way, he caresses his thighs and fists Jongin’s standing dick, and that does the trick for him to speed up. Chanyeol lets him set the pace, enjoying watching how Jongin becomes a mess for his own movements, endless moans that reverberate inside the small space. Jongin didn’t strike him as this type of boy, so needy, so keen to let him fuck him in the back of a car; Chanyeol had supposed they would go further with tiny steps, and instead Jongin is on top of him, too aroused to do anything else besides moaning.
“Chan-Chanyeol,” Jongin calls him, eagerly taking Chanyeol’s whole dick again and again, head thrown back against the seat. “Fuck me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s dying to take the lead, so in no time he has Jongin immobilized between his arms, thrusting upwards upon Jongin’s pleas for more. But then he guy seems to go numb, his erratic breathing completely stops, and Chanyeol isn’t surprised to hear a strained, “I’m coming.”
Chanyeol slips his dick out right away, and something similar to desperation appears on Jongin’s face. It isn’t for long, though, because Chanyeol handles him until he’s on four over the back seat, with his face pressed against it and his knees wobbling. It’s easier to slide in this time, but each movement seems to send Jongin to a blank state; his moans and the skin slapping against skin are the only sounds inside the car as Chanyeol fucks him mercilessly, not minding if he’s able to breathe anymore - he can still meet Chanyeol’s ramming every time, at least. That’s enough for Chanyeol, who sinks his fingers in Jongin’s hips to push deeper; Jongin comes right away with a high-pitched whimper, and it’s the image of him coming that makes Chanyeol follow, falling on top of him in the process.
It takes them several seconds to ride out the orgasm, to recover the strength in their limbs, but Chanyeol still slaps Jongin’s ass when he manages to get out of Jongin, which provokes a mild complaint from the other. However, Jongin follows by turning around and on his back, and Chanyeol doesn’t mind when he sees there’s cum in his car; he opts for climbing on top of Jongin, kissing from his chest to the crook of his neck, where he laughs, “You’re so fucking hot like this, pretty thing.”
When he pulls away, Jongin just runs his index finger over Chanyeol’s adam’s apple tattoo. Being the protagonist, Jongin thinks, isn’t that bad.
Pairing: Chanyeol/Jongin, side! Sehun/Suho
Word Count: 10,6k
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: smut, language, tattooed Chanyeol?
Summary: Jongin thinks that trouble can't chase him. He doesn't like bad boys, illegal races, drugs or gambling, and he manages to keep Jongdae safe as well. But in the end trouble definitely chases after him, although is in the form of illegal boxer Chanyeol.
Notes: The one to blame for this fic is fukushimakyong and her tribulations for tattooed Chanyeol. shinealightrose betaed it!
Kim Jongdae, Jongin’s mother used to say, isn’t a child you want to be friends with. It’s not that Jongin completely disagrees, however, it’s just that Jongdae the child has nothing on Jongdae the adult.
When they were fifteen, Jongdae dragged him to the outskirts of the city immersed in a mysterious state. He had been talking about it during a whole week, tugging at Jongin’s high school uniform and whispering cheeky ‘You’ll see’s’. Jongin just happened to end in an illegal race, watching Jongdae get into the copilot seat of one the drivers, a guy four years older who, in Jongin’s opinion, was taking advantage of his friend. It was the first time Jongdae searched willingly for trouble, but definitely not the last. Jongin could have never fixed it for him, as much as he witnessed every mistake he made through the way, and so he stayed on the sidelines, waiting for the moment in which Jongdae would inevitably fall and Jongin would have to hold him.
When they were seventeen, Jongdae met a pretty, charming man that worked as a gaming dealer at a casino. That, Jongin recognizes, had been fun at first, because they had the chance to go around the place and bet a bit of money here and there. He changed his opinion after discovering that Jongdae’s conquest was deep into the illegal gambling world, which given their luck didn’t catch him by surprise. Jongdae fell again, and Jongin was there to help him. Those were the perks of being the co-protagonist of Jongdae’s life: he was too busy taking care of him to put himself in danger too.
Sometimes, a fleeting thought crosses Jongin’s mind, one of those that pushes him to feel pity for his friend. It may be hard to be his partner in crime, because Jongin has never stepped over the line on his own will, and when he has, it has been for Jongdae’s sake. It can’t be easy, no, to watch Jongin enter university and pass the week focused on his studies, meeting new people and blending into plans that he can talk about the next day (and not having to lie because he was in the wrong places at the wrong moments). It’s then when Jongdae becomes the spectator, impossible to detach from a fate that shoves him to hunt for problems, for something that worries Jongin enough to bring him to his side. Jongin knows this; Jongdae needs him, and it seems like Jongin doesn’t need him that much.
“You’re not going.”
Jongdae appears on Friday at his apartment without previous notice, as he always does. His friend catches him doing a Disney marathon with Sehun, eyes that dart between the television and the boys as though he wants to comment or laugh at the scene. Instead, he announces that he has found a club that has boxing shows during the weekends, not minding that Sehun is sprawled on the couch and listening to them -judging. The negative from Jongin is clearly not what he’s expecting, because Jongin always surrenders to his requests, sometimes his pleas.
Nevertheless, Jongdae is smart. He needs less words than fingers in his hand to make people feel terrible about themselves. Or at least he has that effect on Jongin.
“Are you letting me go alone?” he asks, staring up at Jongin through eyelashes that result violently beautiful.
Jongin isn’t immune to emotional blackmail, but he sure is to the tactics Jongdae uses on his guys. Especially after observing them on display and not being the target.
“It hasn’t been even a month since I had to save your ass from your ex-boyfriend’s brothel,” Jongin reminds him without a trace of shame. Sehun sits up immediately, mouth agape at the revelation, and Jongdae grimaces in discomfort because of the attention. “You just aren’t going to illegal boxing. You with a boyfriend that is trouble and that would know how to beat me up? That, Jongdae, is the limit.”
“Wait, think about it,” Sehun interrupts, much to their shock. He finally pauses the Disney marathon, the popcorn still on his lap. “Half-naked men fighting? Isn’t that gay enough for you or what?”
It’s natural that Sehun assumes Jongdae’s ideas can be fun. They barely know each other, except for the times he falls asleep on their couch - whether it’s because he’s hiding from a jealous boy or because he wants to spend time with Jongin. Sehun has never believed the stories he has been told, opting for repetitive ‘you’ve had so much fun that it’s not fair’ complaints.
“I’ll hardly be gay if I’m dead,” Jongin points out.
“I’ll go with you,” Sehun concludes, ignoring the dramatic reply and staring at Jongdae.
Jongin isn’t oblivious to the way Jongdae’s eyes shine when he stares at Sehun, as if he has found the most valuable toy in the world. And this is what Jongin has been fearing since he started sharing a dorm with Sehun, the forever bored dude that jumps at any chance he has. Jongin supposes that this was bound to happen, but he doesn’t have to be content about it.
“What? No.”
Sehun simply shrugs. “Sorry, unlike you, I am gay enough for men sweating in shorts.”
Jongin always tells himself that he’s not too maternal. His behavior is the response, the natural balance against Jongdae’s childish behavior. Even during the dawn of Saturday, which he’s spending on his bed with a six pound textbook, he can’t help but be concerned. It’s not about Jongdae anymore, for his friend is like an immortal creature that is ready to face any nightlife problem, it’s about Sehun in an environment he doesn’t belong to. Jongin has experienced how that feels, has watched and lived things he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
Inwardly conversing with himself, he grabs his phone in surrender. It’s 4 a.m. It’s bad.
4:03. To: Jongdae.
Where the fuck are you two. Do whatever you want but send Sehun back home NOW.
4:25 From: Jongdae.
Dnt worru kim jkongin i0m seduicng fuckboyaz
4:26 To: Jongdae
Text me your location
4:37 From: Jongdae
Noo00i0oo0 dobt save mw
4:38
HAHAJAHAS
Jongin doesn’t laugh. If Jongdae is too drunk to type a single word right, he also is too drunk to make sure Sehun doesn’t die in his arms. He could call Sehun directly, but his phone is always on silence mode, and if Sehun has a slightest attractive guy before his eyes, picking up calls will be the last of his worries.
Instead, he settles for sleeping, putting the textbook on the floor and thinking that if he has to attend someone’s funeral in a couple of days, he deserves nice dreams beforehand.
Jongin wakes up to sex.
It’s not an unfamiliar situation, since he’s well acquainted with Sehun’s moans coming from the next room almost every weekend. He’s not used to the bangs against the wall though, because his friend is a vanilla sex guy and he definitely doesn’t like to be roughed -or to mistreat his beloved bedroom, for that matter. And particularly, not at nine in the morning. Jongin would feel compassion for him if it wasn’t because he deserves such an encounter for following Jongdae’s ideas. Although, to be honest, he’s kind of scared to discover what kind of man Sehun has brought home. It wouldn’t be the first time his affairs get messy.
Groaning, Jongin rolls out of the bed and checks his phone, but there are no texts from Jongdae. He doesn’t bother to put on his pajama pants, but he regrets it as soon as he pads to the living room. A mixture of relief and anger washes over him, the first because Jongdae is snoring on the couch, and the second because a shirtless, huge guy is sleeping on him as though he had assumed Jongdae was a cushion. Jongin doesn’t understand how his friend is able to breathe, let alone snore, but he doesn’t consider it for long as he approaches them without a tiny sign of mercy.
However, he’s taken aback when he reaches them, gaze falling on a half upper body that doesn’t have a single inch of free meat; from the lower back to the wrists, black tattoos cover what would have probably been a very pale skin otherwise. Jongin can tell because the guy doesn’t carry any colored tattoo, and the drawings are outlined both by ink and his own color. For a moment, he observes the muscles of his back in curiosity, tries to differentiate the images engraved on it, and then the logic slips back into his mind.
“You two!” Jongin yells, serving as a waking alarm. He yanks the stranger by the hair, because Jongdae’s people need unkind treatments to catch the signals, and also because Jongin knows how to deal with these type of situations. “Up and out of my house!”
The boy must be half-awake, because he jerks at Jongin’s attack, moving away from Jongdae so fast that he stumbles down the couch in confusion. His friend, on the other hand, simply rubs his eyes with a groan, as if he’s just having another nightmare in which Jongin is cruel despite his hangover.
“Don’t shout, man,” the tattooed boy says, grumbles, because his voice is both deep and hoarse, and Jongin doesn’t want to know what he did to gain a sore throat. What he wants to do, however, is to kick him now that he’s on the floor.
“Jongdae,” Jongin continues, disregarding the hissing he obtains. “You have three minutes to get this man out of my house. I swear I’m calling the police if you don’t.”
If Jongin has learnt a useful lesson through the years, it’s that ‘police’ is the magic word to sweep bad company away. Jongdae, with an arm over his eyes, laughs at his friend’s old technique, and searches with the other hand for the guy’s head - resting on the edge of the couch - to pat softly a pile of black hair. “Leave, Chan. The crazie isn’t joking.”
If there something Jongin excels at, it’s at being a good spectator. He is the best public a performer could wish: he never interferes in the show, but watches with an attentive mind; sometimes he looks forward to the end, but it’s impossible to tell by his face; and when the show fails, and one of the performers tumbles down and spoils all the work, Jongin is there to help.
Sehun is the next performer. This is a fact that his mind has some trouble processing, because Jongdae has been the protagonist for a long time and the public never settles well with changes. It takes him a while to smell the warnings, and when he does, it’s too late.
The first time Jongin meets Junmyeon is the same morning he first sees Chanyeol, just several hours later; it’s just that he doesn’t know any of their names yet. Sehun comes out from his bedroom with a smile and dark circles, messy hair and red spots all over his torso, and Jongin can’t help but to stare. Junmyeon, on the contrary, trails behind him completely clothed, a badly concealed hand on Sehun’s low back. Neither of them greet Jongin, because they really are great performers, and therefore the exchange of kisses at the door is as intimate as if they were alone. Jongin distinguishes the laughs, and then a unmistakable come to watch again, some time, yes?
And then, the show begins.
Illegal boxing, Sehun tells him, is beyond fun. “It’s not like in professional boxing. To begin with, they actually hit each other without gloves, and some weekends they remove several rules so that it’s more exciting. Junmyeon doesn’t fight in those though.”
His friend believes Junmyeon to the word, which becomes pretty ridiculous in Jongin’s eyes as soon as he talks to him in person. The man sends him a long look, as though he hadn’t noticed before someone else was living with Sehun, one of those stares that are more expressive than language. He hasn’t been around their home during the day, only visiting past 1 a.m. to have sex with Sehun, and Jongin fears his presence in the middle of the afternoon means the beginning of a real relationship between them.
“Do me a favour and don’t fool Sehun with one of your stories,” Jongin threatens him when his friend fades into the kitchen, and due to the wide experience Jongin has with bad boys, he doesn’t feel any terror when Junmyeon glares at him.
“One of my stories,” the other repeats.
Jongin grins with honesty, but that doesn’t mean it’s a positive gesture. It’s full of bitterness, so noticeable that Junmyeon won’t be able to ignore it. “About how pure you are in such a fucked up environment.”
Needless to say, both Sehun and Junmyeon disregard any concern Jongin has about them. Jongdae arrives each Saturday at the door, each weekend more handsome - Jongin notices it because he’s familiar with his strategies - and drags Sehun to watch boxing with him. At the point Sehun is with Junmyeon, he wouldn’t reject the proposition either way.
And everything is okay, everything is calm, until one night Sehun doesn’t get back alone or solely with his sexual company. His friend is aware that he’s breaking a cohabitation rule: if he wants to bring up more people, he has to call beforehand, and it doesn’t matter that Jongdae is one of the boys crossing the door, or that only one of them is unknown for Jongin.
Anyhow, not completely unknown. Jongin feels a jerk inside of him, something that grabs his attention, and he isn’t sure how he identifies the guy so fast. The most he saw of him were tattoos, which are now almost covered except for the ones that creep up his neck. He can see his face though, one that doesn’t quite fit the body it belongs to, a face that results childish if it weren’t for the bruises all over it. Jongin forces himself to draw his look away from him in feigned disinterest, but he’s very conscious of everything all of a sudden.
Jongin isn’t presentable for strangers. The heat has obliged him to wear only a pair of baggy shorts, and he’s laying on the couch, enjoying Big Hero 6 even though he’s supposed to do these type of activities with Sehun. Correction: he has two illegal boxers and Jongdae the man eater in the living room at the moment, he’s not supposed to be doing these type of activities at all.
“Are you guys okay with beer?” Sehun cheerfully asks them while they scatter around.
They all agree, and as Sehun disappears from their view, Jongin’s couch is invaded by the rest. As usual, Junmyeon doesn’t greet him, but Jongdae doesn’t miss a beat before throwing his arms around his shoulders and introducing him to the new guy.
“Chanyeol,” Jongdae simply says, flashing an adorable smile towards Jongin as to obtain his approval. He isn’t sure what it means, and it confuses him. The way Jongdae expects a reaction from him makes Jongin wonder if Jongdae wants Chanyeol for himself or if he already got him.
Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, but he sits next to them with his big body, big arms and big presence, and Jongin is surprised to perceive Chanyeol makes him become very small in comparison. He roams his eyes over Chanyeol’s face, having a close-up of the clear bruise on his cheekbone, but he looks away when Chanyeol stares back. He inspects him with one of those gazes, just that it isn’t similar to the ones Junmyeon gives all the time. It’s different, one that seizes every bit of Jongin’s bare skin slowly, as to memorize him, and then Chanyeol glances up with an amused tug of his lips to find Jongin’s dilated pupils.
“Not all my friends are this attractive, I swear.” Jongdae holds up his hands in defense, jokingly smiling at Chanyeol. He pats Jongin’s stomach like his friend is a piece of meat, and the boy tries to be discreet while pushing his hands away. “I wouldn’t hide them from you.”
Jongin doesn’t get the joke, but Chanyeol returns the same gesture Jongdae has plastered all over his face, and then talks without a trace of shame. “Sure. He really is a pretty thing.”
The movie is still playing on the small TV, forgotten until Chanyeol turns his head to look at it in confusion. Jongin would have turned it off to save himself the embarrassment, but he doesn’t mind anymore. Trouble is here and has called him pretty, and he loathes liking it - he doesn’t like it, because those are empty words. Jongin is never called pretty, for his personality ruins anything of his outer appearance that can give him that name, and he’s okay with it.
Chanyeol holds his eye without any expression, and the shiver that runs down Jongin’s spine is enough for him to decide it’s the moment to make his exit. He mutters a dry goodnight while Jongdae laughs at him, as if he can read his thoughts, which much to his dismay, it’s probably true.
“Hey, you sleeping already?” Sehun asks when they run into each other, arms flooded with a bunch of beer cans. Jongin is grateful for the disappointment in his tone, but he’s aware he won’t be that happy when Sehun pulls Junmyeon to his bedroom tonight.
When Jongin closes his bedroom’s door, he understands what is happening, understands the deep danger of what there is in the living room: Chanyeol has that charm, because it’s one single look and Jongin is a goner.
Chanyeol comes back. Although Jongin hasn't given Jongdae permission to bring along his friends, Sehun is enough of a reason for them to ignore Jongin's complaints. He doesn't feel like he's a part of it; he sits down in the living room with his Math books, scribbling down things until the boys burst through the door and interrupt him. Sometimes Jongdae takes his books and forces him to stay with them, even if he’s bored because of the boxing and fighting tales; he’s more surprised by the way Chanyeol laughs, loud and dumb in contrast with the menacing stares he throws towards Jongin. He takes advantage of the moments Chanyeol is distracted to examine the new wounds that appear every time, curious and horrified at the same time.
Jongin doesn’t mind Chanyeol’s mere presence, but he does mind him invading his imagination, showing up at his home and stealing glances from him at every chance he has. Chanyeol's gaze always falls upon him, not intimidated by the way Jongin stares back - unfriendly, almost challenging. Jongin dreams of his arms, of caressing his torso as he’s underneath him, and fears what Chanyeol has to offer - maybe something addictive, maybe something Jongin won’t want to release later. Jongin is fresh blood, an uncorrupted good boy that has, however, experienced corruption; he knows Chanyeol would have a lot to corrupt him with.
“Bye, pretty thing,” Chanyeol always says as a goodbye, not minding the boys’ cackles when they hear him.
It wouldn’t be a problem for Jongin if it weren’t because, even before Chanyeol manages to finish his farewell, a wicked smile is appearing on his lips. By the time he turns around, Jongin can distinguish the laughter coming from him and Junmyeon.
In all honesty, Jongin hates Junmyeon. He hates how stupid Sehun becomes with his mere mention and how he keeps appearing at home as if it’s his own. He hates finding him eating his breakfast in the mornings and opening the fridge with the only purpose of emptying it. And when Jongin is positive his box of hate is full and he can close it forever, Junmyeon shows up one day and directs his attention towards him, Sehun laughing behind him in anticipation of what Junmyeon is going to spit.
“Chanyeol says you have a nice ass and asks if he can have it,” Junmyeon announces, raised brows in a playful way that Jongin hasn’t seen before. “Well, he hasn’t exactly said that. It was more like an affirmation, not a question.”
The most embarrassing thing about it isn’t the fact that they go around talking about Jongin’s ass when he’s not with them - Jongin himself is the first to rate any guy’s butt that crosses his path - but the way his cheeks burn at the indirect flirting. Sehun passes by and pokes at his face in order to make him self-conscious, and Junmyeon just waits for the answer although he has already received it.
“Tell him that I said no,” Jongin refuses then, and a second later the amusement fades away from Junmyeon’s face.
It’s a tiny victory, and Jongin has never fought in a war before.
“Chanyeol asks if he can have your number. Something about small steps.”
Jongin emits a choked noise in order not to laugh. It’s just a week later when Jongdae turns into the messenger. Jongin doesn’t know what kind of game Chanyeol is playing, since if he’s so infatuated with him, he could go and ask by himself; instead, he opts for giving signs of interest that could mean nothing anyway. It bothers Jongin, being chased like this, or perhaps being chased at all, since he’s used to being the one who crushed on boys like a fool.
“No.”
Jongdae sips on his coffee, sunglasses still on even though they’re inside a cafe, and Jongin wonders if his hangover is that bad. He usually has good endurance.
“Too late. I already gave it to him.”
There’s an invisible tension in the environment, sliding through Jongin’s throat as a reflect of Jongdae’s impassive façade. It scares him, because he doesn’t catch up with the events, doesn’t comprehend what’s the connection between this conversation and his friend’s grief.
“Are you interested in Chanyeol?” Jongin questions in a mutter, timid gaze roaming on the table.
“Not if you are.”
Jongin looks up to find Jongdae’s feline smile spreading on his lips and, again, he’s lost. He guesses that from his friend’s point of view the situation can result comical, given that Jongdae is the one who seduces bad boys all the time.
He stutters at first, but then he manages to deny it, “I’m not.”
“I thought so. Then you asked,” teases Jongdae. Then a sigh, and he’s taking off the sunglasses, revealing eyes that are redder than white. “I don’t like him, you know that. I move on fast.”
However, Jongin doesn’t believe the false confidence. If Jongdae had even shared a silly thing like a kiss with Chanyeol, he would have run to tell Jongin, so he can be sure about that part. There isn’t anything to move on from when it comes to Chanyeol. Therefore, his words aren’t about him, though Jongin would rather they were.
“Is this about Baekhyun?” Jongin whispers before he realizes his mistake, yet Jongdae doesn’t react at the name. “You’re doing that thing again. Baekhyun doesn’t want your help, I think that was clear crystal since he let his pimp beat you up.”
“Yeah,” Jongdae answers casually, as if he doesn’t mind Jongin being suspicious of his behavior. “Crystal clear.”
A part of Jongin anticipates a text from Chanyeol during the next days, although he didn’t give permission for it. Another part thinks that if a text suddenly had appeared in his phone, he would have thought Chanyeol was a creep. Maybe he’s a creep regardless; Jongin just knows that it would be better not to push his buttons, just in case he decides all of a sudden he isn’t all that pretty and forgets the reasons not to punch him when Jongin snaps at him.
What he wouldn’t have expected, not even if the world stopped and turned around, is Chanyeol ringing his doorbell. When Jongin opens the door and sees the boy standing in front of him, he doesn’t recognize Chanyeol at first. He’s wearing jeans and a white jumper that cover almost every tattoo, and he looks so normal that Jongin feels uneasy at the view. Normal, that is, except because he makes Jongin’s legs tremble.
“I agreed to meet Jongdae here, ” Chanyeol announces with a grin full of perfect teeth and, not allowing a chance to close the door in his face, he steps in with his hands in his pockets, dodging a confused Jongin at the entrance.
Jongin is thankful today he has normal clothes on, suddenly attacked by the realization that this is the first time Chanyeol doesn’t find him only with his shorts on. That could explain why Jongin raises passions, walking around half-naked. “Jongdae isn’t here though.”
His words are ignored, since Chanyeol is already sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him, a valiant smirk to accompany. And Jongin has no option, because what is he going to do? There’s no one else in the house, and there’s no way he’s leaving a troublesome man alone in the living room, not one that sits on the couch like he’s a king.
It’s hard to stare into Chanyeol’s eyes, especially when they follow Jongin’s movements as though he is about to burst into snickers. Jongin has never felt so clumsy, so observed, so intimidated, even if he has dealt with illegal racers, pimps and gamblers in the past. Chanyeol is no good, and his stomach painfully twisting is just the last warning - it’s the first time they’re alone and he has nowhere to run.
When Jongin dares meeting his, restless, Chanyeol is subtly leaning towards him, lips pulling upwards.
“You really are a pretty thing, Jongin,” he declares, and Jongin swears his voice is so low that echoes within his bones. “One that is scared of me for some reason. You know I hit dudes for money, right? I’m not going to punch you unless you pay me. You into that?”
Perhaps because it takes an astonished Jongin more than five seconds to answer, Chanyeol’s left brow shoots up in interest and, upon noticing what he must be thinking, Jongin blushes.
“No,” he scoffs, breaking the eye contact as he tries to maintain some pride. “I’m not scared of you either. I just don’t frequent anywhere Jongdae likes going to. It’s like… ah, a matter of security.”
Much to Jongin’s surprise, Chanyeol doesn’t ridicule him for his explanation. He remembers Sehun doing it when he told him the reason. You sound like my mother, he had said, and Jongin had blabbered several excuses.
“I see,” Chanyeol replies instead. The smirk is long gone now, but he moves forward, arm sneaking over the backrest. “What about me going somewhere you like?”
It catches Jongin completely off guard, so he doesn’t process the question before making the fatal mistake. “What? Like where?”
To begin with, Jongin reads the triumph in Chanyeol’s eyes. And in second place, he catches his gaze dropping on his lips for a fleeting second. The great effect that tiny detail has on him is beyond scary; Jongin knows what Chanyeol is thinking, and he isn’t so reticent to the idea. “You’re in university, so… uni parties? You look like the type.”
I look like the type, Jongin repeats inside his head, retaining a laugh. He sure is, too, because parties are a soft activity compared to other Jongin’s experiences. “I don’t think that would be much fun for you.”
Right away, Jongin perceives Chanyeol is analyzing him, though it’s not that hard to notice how he interlaces his fingers together over his lap, how Jongin isn’t capable of holding his gaze. Chanyeol just lets out a breathy laugh.
“I’m sure my parties are much more fun,” he agrees. It sounds so cocky that Jongin can’t conceal the birth of a smile. Chanyeol knows nothing about him. “But that’s my problem, isn’t it?”
Perhaps it is, in case Jongin doesn’t care about being dragged down. However, five minutes after Chanyeol’s departure, Jongin remembers he was supposed to meet Jongdae here, which was obviously a lie. And that white lie is definitely Jongin’s problem too.
"You have a date with Chanyeol!"
It's unnerving how confident Sehun sounds shouting that at 4 a.m., almost breaking Jongin's bedroom door as he comes in and climbs onto his bed. Jongin releases a threatening grumble, but Sehun is already shaking him by the shoulder to wake him up.
"Are you going to let him fuck you on the first date, hmm?" Sehun asks with a chuckle, forever a pervert ready to harass. "I bet you are."
Jongin wishes he could punch him, but he's too tired to function. "I don't have a fucking date with Chanyeol. Tell him if he thinks that."
"Oh yeah, he warned me you just will go to a party. Like, with us," Sehun says as he leans down with a smirk. "I'll make sure we disappear within the first hour, don't worry. So that you can seduce Chanyeol telling him smart numbers stuff."
Jongin can't help but to laugh at that, because yes, smart numbers stuff was useful to get into Minseok's pants, a senior from the Education Major, but he's sure Chanyeol would ditch him if he started boring him that way. Although he seems to be the only one who thinks Jongin is a pretty guy, so he can always switch off and not actually listen to him - just watch his face.
Jongdae whistles when he steps into the apartment, his eyes travelling directly at Jongin's figure. He does whistle in a way that would disturb anyone, but it doesn’t work on Jongin after so many years.
"That's my Kim Jongin, the high school heartbreaker, leveling up to sexy intelligent college man.” He laughs, patting his butt and perhaps, also pawing it a little. "I'm not responsible if Chanyeol tries to eat you as soon as you're alone. Only god knows I would if I were your date."
Jongin rolls his eyes, yet his stomach curls in uneasiness at the prospect of how Chanyeol plans to treat him tonight. "For the last time, it's not a date. And I might haven't had sex in a while-"
"In five months!" Sehun shouts from his bedroom, and damn it, Jongin can hear Junmyeon sneering at it even from this distance.
"But I'm not going to sleep with the first hot guy that crosses my way," Jongin insists. Much to his disgrace, the three of them snort at it.
The statement, despite being completely logical, isn’t that easy to follow when Jongin spots Chanyeol. He's waiting for them in the street where the party is, hips leaning back against a car - his, Jongin supposes - and swaying his keys in impatience. Jongin becomes breathless when the man checks him out in interest, appreciating the first time he meets Jongin when he’s not been studying or watching a Disney movie.
Jongin doesn't admit it, not even to himself, but he's only able to think about sex when he sees Chanyeol. His arms are exposed, muscles tensed, and a part of Jongin wants to pass his hands all over them, stroke him to verify if his arms are as firm as they look. Dressed all in black, he reeks bad boy more than usual, and that should be enough warning for Jongin, who simply shoves the thought away.
As Jongdae hurries to hug Chanyeol's waist and plant a kiss on his cheek, Chanyeol smiles at Jongin over his friend's shoulder. He responds in agitation, noticing how Chanyeol's stare lingers on him more than normal, always, until Jongin is inwardly shaking.
"You're quite hot for someone who passes the day doing maths," Chanyeol comments as he moves a clingy Jongdae away, smile fading as though he wants Jongin to realize he's not joking.
Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but he has no idea what to say. It doesn't matter, though, because the next second Chanyeol is putting both of his hands on his sides and bending to give him a greeting kiss too. It's a silly gesture, really, but Jongin isn't capable of holding back a faint gasp, and it's way too embarrassing that Chanyeol is too close to miss it. When he straightens again and Jongin can observe his whole face, Chanyeol arches a brow in a silent question. He already has his answers.
Nevertheless, Jongin forgets about it when they enter the party. Chanyeol isn't near awkward with him; he takes him to dance for a while, shy smiles blooming on Jongin's lips every time they look at each other, conceited ones on Chanyeol's. And when they get tired of dancing, Chanyeol gets him a drink because 'these parties are full of people poisoning the drinks'.
"You having fun?" Chanyeol asks him, putting a hand on his back as he offers him the drink. He seems way too comfortable with him, and Jongin isn't bothered by it, but he fears that the fact that he's not able to touch Chanyeol back will make the tension grow between them.
"Yeah. You look like you are too."
Chanyeol thinks about it for a moment, and bites his lower lip in a way that Jongin bets it's on purpose. He finds himself eyeing his mouth without remedy. "I am," Chanyeol says at last, and his fingers graze over Jongin's back as if he’s repressing the need to caress him. "I still think my parties are more fun though, but you would get into trouble easily."
All of a sudden, Jongin has the urge to hit Chanyeol like he would do to Jongdae, yet that's out of limits for him. Instead, he laughs so loud that it's embarrassing and spits. "Me? Into trouble?"
Chanyeol doesn't give him a reason, but the way he looks at him is enough for Jongin to understand that Chanyeol has an idea of him very different from what he should. Maybe Jongdae has told him their past stories, which don't portray Jongin as the boy he looks like.
It's scary how the conversation flows with him, how at ease Jongin is with Chanyeol's fingers leaving discreet, small strokes on his back, on his waist and through his hair. There are trivial giggles here and there, and Jongin starts to wonder if they're coming from him or from Chanyeol and, at some point of the night, when they end on one of the couches of the house, Jongin realizes he hasn't seen his friends in a long time. It may be dangerous, because he has had way too many drinks by now, while on the contrary Chanyeol is still very lucid. Perhaps that's why he dares to brush down Chanyeol's arm, feeling how his muscles contract beneath his touch. As he stares up at his eyes, Chanyeol has an expression he’s unable to interpret.
“What is it with the tattoos?” Jongin utters then, although his voice can still be heard over the music. It has something to do with the proximity between them, just that Jongin is too drunk to be aware of it.
“Oh, those?” Chanyeol asks, looking at his own arms as though he has just noticed the ink all over his body. “They’re just jail tattoos. You know, you have to get them to belong to a prison gang and all that, and then it's one after another for each man you kill.”
Right away, Jongin slaps a hand over his mouth to control the laughter, and Chanyeol smiles in pride for having dragged such a reaction from him.
“Your jokes are lame.”
Chanyeol's lips twist up in amusement. “You like them, though.”
"I'm easy," Jongin replies immediately, and it's only when the words are out that they sound like pure cheap porn. "I m-mean-"
Anyhow, he doesn't have time to correct himself, because out of the blue Chanyeol passes his fingertips along his thigh in an attempt to calm him down. "Easy, right. Like you haven't passed the last three weeks glaring at me."
"I haven't!"
"Come on," Chanyeol laughs, getting up, a last stroke over the fabric of Jongin’s jeans. "You're too drunk. I'm taking you home.”
Jongin leans back on the couch as a silent protest, but he wiggles his eyebrows at Chanyeol as he repeats. “You’re taking me? In your car, huh?”
Bravery is a side effect of Jongin’s drunk state, but if he remembers this tomorrow - and he always does - it’s going to be mortifying. However, Chanyeol simply forces him to detach himself from the couch and leads him through the house and towards his car. Jongin remembers for a moment Chanyeol has drunk too, and that it isn’t a good idea, but the thought flies away and he shifts into the car without a worry.
There’s a moment of inner panic, next morning, when Jongin starts going back to life. His hangover could be much worse, he decides right away, but then he notices there’s someone else in his bed, a warm body and heavy breathing, and most importantly, on top of him.
“Well, well, look who we’ve got here,” the intruder jokes after clicking his tongue. Jongin doesn’t need more to know it’s Jongdae, and the relief washes over him because he hasn’t done anything stupid - sleeping with Chanyeol, specifically. He lazily opens his eyes to meet an after-party Jongdae that looks like he hasn’t had any sleep, sitting on him comfortably. “Chanyeol has interesting stories about you from yesterday.”
Jongin must have sputtered a wide range of nonsense last night, yet he doesn’t recall something worth remembering. So, uninterested, he croaks, “What?”
The leer that blossoms on Jongdae’s face is a nightmare for Jongin, for he knows right away that he has told Chanyeol something important. “First of all, he left you here like a gentleman, but you were being quite pushy. You asked him if he wasn’t going to make out with you or what. Then he got into a smart mode, that I didn’t know he had by the way, and told you that he would make out with you if you attended one of his fights.”
“No,” Jongin gasps.
“You said yes, of course.” Jongdae pats his chest as Jongin rolls his head back in despair. “Because Chanyeol’s hot ass is too much for you to refuse.”
This means that he has exactly one week to come up with an excuse. The problem is that any excuse is going to be taken like a lie, and that he enjoyed last night with Chanyeol too much to not be evident and discover himself as a coward.
“He really is, damn it,” Jongin complains as Jongdae nestles on him, sinking his head in the crook of Jongin’s neck. “This is all your fault.”
“Yeah,” his friend breathes out, snickering. “You’re welcome.”
“I beg you, Jongin, don’t give anyone your bitch face,” Sehun pleads with him as he grips the steering wheel, parking so clumsily that Jongin fears for their lives.
Jongdae, careless, mumbles something about how Jongin can’t help his bitch face, but the other still asks, “Why?”
They’re a pair of streets away from the boxing local, yet the place is already decadent and empty. If Jongin was in Sehun’s place, he wouldn’t leave his car here like a present to be robbed, but apparently it isn’t the first time Sehun has done this.
“Cause you’ll have a broken nose before you can even blink,” Sehun responds, pulling away the car keys and glancing back at him through the rear mirror. “And guess who won’t like your pretty face anymore.”
When they enter the locale, Jongin realizes that he could get into an argument even if he held his bitch face back. The boxing ring is barely viewable for the cloud of smoke rising up from the public, and as Jongdae leads them to the first row, Jongin senses how some men stare at them as though they are a bunch of kids stepping into a club. However, that’s the last of Jongin’s worries, because then he spots who is already inside the ring and he immediately regrets having fallen into this trap.
Chanyeol has his back to them, but for some reason Jongin remembers his tattoos in enough detail to know it’s him. It doesn’t help to discover that he has been hiding the ones on his legs, multiples runes running all over his skin in phrases that end dissolving and mixing with others midway.
His opponent, however, has nothing to envy him. He's at least as corpulent as him, though Jongin can tell he has more experience because his nose looks like it has been broken several times. He knows beforehand that he isn't going to like this show, specially because Chanyeol doesn't have a face to be beaten, and who in this world gets into boxing without gloves and proper protection?
"Get ready for the blood," Jongdae tells him in his ear, indifferent at the troubled expression of his friend.
Even in the case Jongin had received a thousand warnings, he wouldn't have been prepared for something of this caliber. He has to avert his gaze during the first minute of the fight, walk to a corner of the locale where he isn't able to see anything - or to hear the hits, the groans and the flesh crashing against flesh - and he stays there until the fight ends. He does hear Chanyeol's name being announced as the winner, but he's so sick right now that he can't even bring himself to be content. Even if Chanyeol must be in a better state than his opponent, thirty seconds were enough for Jongin to realize that better doesn't imply good.
Jongin finds Jongdae searching for him, and his friend immediately lectures him for disappearing on him without previous notice. A concerned Jongdae isn't usual, so Jongin is too dumbfounded to defend himself. However, he drags Jongin around the locale and towards the boxers’ rooms. Jongdae pushes the first door of the hall and rushes Jongin to enter, and the first person he recognizes is Chanyeol, laying on a couch while Junmyeon hovers over him with disinfectant and cotton. Sehun is on his other side, poking at his wounds on purpose as the boxer hisses.
Right away, Chanyeol’s eyes flick towards Jongin’s figure, the gestures of pain halting altogether. “You brought me the cure,” he says, one of his smirks blooming.
The flushed cheeks are a dead giveaway for Jongin, because even though it sounds like a lame pick up line, Chanyeol seems serious about it.
“Don’t mind him,” Junmyeon says, batting a hand while he passes a piece of cotton over the wounds on Chanyeol's chin. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
He’s pale, indeed, having into account he already is in normal conditions, so Jongin approaches him in concern. Chanyeol keeps smiling at him though, as if he's enchanted by Jongin's presence, and remarks, "You came."
There's a subtle question in his statement, because they made a deal while Jongin was drunk and sober Jongin has accepted it too. However, Junmyeon is looking between the two, and Jongin doesn't want to have this conversation in front of their friends.
Chanyeol grasps Junmyeon by the wrist to make him stop. "Move away.”
“Rot in hell then,” his friend replies, throwing the cotton at his face as Chanyeol laughs.
Jongin hesitates for a moment, aware that not only Chanyeol’s attention is on him. But seconds later Jongdae is messing around and he relaxes, and it doesn’t seem so dangerous to let it go a bit.
“You really should disinfect those,” Jongin points out as soon as he sits down.
Chanyeol becomes serious at the observation, but clutches the cotton and offers it to Jongin, who stares at the piece in confusion. “Help me?”
It’s an understatement to say Jongin is surprised. He glances at his friends for a second, yet they’re occupied talking about some party they intend to go, and to be honest with himself, Jongin feels quite brave. He takes the cotton from Chanyeol’s grasp and reaches out for the brush on his cheekbone, and the man, who hasn’t seemed serious about the proposition, freezes at the contact.
“Okay,” Chanyeol breathes out, shocked, and Jongin has to retain a smile.
“Now what?” He presses the piece of cotton softly, tracing Chanyeol’s cheekbone , and his voice drops several tones as he continues in a whisper, “Wanna make out with me?”
Jongin plans it to sound like a joke, but it gets out of control. It sounds like a plea, almost needy, and Chanyeol is soon passing his tongue over his lips, impatient. His gaze drops on Jongin’s mouth fleetingly, and then he stares up again with a, “Wanna do more than that.”
A shiver travels down Jongin’s body and his insides twist, pulling - begging - him to lay on this same couch and allow Chanyeol to fuck him like this, without tip-toeing around each other anymore. He wants it, and it’s such a powerful need that he doesn’t care anymore about the consequences, about Chanyeol being a bad guy and not the proper company, or about how he has already fallen for this trap though he assured himself he wouldn’t. And he’s not the only one in the game, judging the predatory shine that reflects on Chanyeol’s features when Jongin doesn’t answer.
“He lost too much blood,” Junmyeon repeats again, appearing at Chanyeol’s side and putting a hand on his shoulder. The interruption shoves them both out of the tension, and Junmyeon gazes at Jongin as though he can read whatever is going on his mind, to warn him he’s not going to touch Chanyeol tonight.
The next day, Taemin appears at Jongin’s apartment without previous notice. Not by himself, however, because Jongdae brings him as a surprise. He’s only lacking the gift wrapping.
Taemin, the boy who completed the golden trio of hopeless children when they were young. Taemin, the boy whose parents forced to move houses with the only purpose to get him away from Jongdae and Jongin. The same boy who, after all, kept up with the friendship throughout the years. Maybe also the boy whom Jongin had been hooking up with before they both definitely parted for college. Not the best decision Jongin made during those days, now that he thinks about it, although he has probably forgotten how deprived of sex he was at the time. Who is better than someone who knows and loves you to fool around with, anyways?
“Woah, you look like shit,” Taemin spits as soon as Jongin opens the door, and also right before Jongin crushes him in a bear hug.
“What is this? Who is this?” Sehun asks, walking around in pants around the apartment with a bottle of water in his hands.
Although Jongin and Taemin are still all around each other - one of them definitely crying -Jongdae ignores them and steps in with a bright smile, “Squad is back.”
"What squad," Sehun grumbles as he sends Taemin a judgmental glare. Both friends separate with pathetic sobs and the new boy wipes his eyes with his sleeve; Jongin seems about to start crying too, and Sehun is profoundly offended because Kim Jongin didn't cry when he left the apartment for a week. "We're supposed to go out tonight, is he coming along?"
Everyone is determined to overlook the hints of incomprehensible jealousy from Sehun, because Jongin is already turning to look at Taemin with expectant eyes and Jongdae nods before he can even answer.
"Of course he's coming along." Jongdae laughs and pats a baggy-eyed Sehun on the back. "Where's your boyfriend?"
Even though Taemin has started to cling onto Jongin, back hugging and sinking his head on his shoulder, Jongin has enough force to mock Sehun, "Not his boyfriend, just the guy that has made a crack on his bedroom wall."
"Poor you," Taemin whines.
"Yeah, right? It's nasty to hear them. Worse having to see their faces the next morning."
In the course of the day, Sehun happens to grow a deep dislike towards Taemin, which is pretty funny to Jongin because that's just how he feels about Junmyeon. Also, because he didn't picture Sehun as a boy who would be protective over friendships, specially having into account that he has never had a problem with Jongdae.
However, Jongin can't be happier about this. It's true that Taemin will be gone before Monday comes and that they won't see him for another two whole months, but Jongin doesn't plan to sleep tonight so that he can torment Taemin with questions all night, drunk or not. He almost forgets they're meeting Chanyeol and Junmyeon too, at least until they arrive at the bar and the two tall men can be spotted even from the entrance. And Jongin remembers he hasn't told Taemin anything about Chanyeol, wonders if he should have.
He's not conscious of the hand holding with Taemin until he senses Chanyeol's gaze focused on it, or how he searches for Jongin's face later, a notable scowl that he can't help. Jongin knows it's silly, but it feels wrong. The mere thought of Chanyeol feeling bad makes his stomach hurl, makes him want to explain that he isn't going to end with Taemin on the bed tonight, or tomorrow, or ever again.
"You're late, always late, and you don't even try not to look like tramps," Junmyeon is rambling when they sit around the table. Jongin makes sure of slipping in the seat besides Chanyeol to make himself stand out, though Chanyeol just spares him a glance before looking at Taemin again. "Not you, Sehun."
"I know," the guy responds in all his smugness.
Jongdae introduces Taemin to everyone, and though Jongin is a bit off at first, he's happy to see that after a few rounds of alcohol the group works pretty well. Bold once again, Jongin dares to rest himself against Chanyeol, who moves his arm to surround his waist and let him enough space on his chest. This, nevertheless, catches Jongdae's attention right away.
"You're like a step away from fucking," he announces, settling his beer on the table with a smash. Jongin exchanges a look with Taemin, who has new questions painted all over his face. "Congrats."
"What would you know about fucking, you failed to fuck with me when we met," Chanyeol slurs with a snicker.
Jongin recalls the morning he first saw Chanyeol and adds, "I found you on top of him though."
"I thought he was the couch!"
"You two are together?" Taemin cuts off then, gesturing towards Jongin and Chanyeol. He doesn't seem bothered for it, but Jongin is able to read the hidden expression, the displeasure because Jongin hasn't mentioned anything while Taemin tells him everything.
It's Chanyeol who stares back at Taemin, defying, "No."
"Good," Taemin laughs, eyes twinkling in mischievousness. This is a bad signal, and both of his friends know about it, but Jongdae is too occupied with his drink to stop him and Jongin can't possibly stop him without being suspicious. "Because Jongin is hard to please, wouldn't I know. So fucking horny all the time."
Taemin has drank too much, so has Jongin. Enough not to get mad at him for subtly revealing their past, but not enough to misinterpret the look Chanyeol flashes at him, disappointment on the curves of his mouth.
"You two are a thing?" he mutters, low voice that seeps through Jongin's body.
Jongin would have to be an asshole to have played Chanyeol like that while being tied to another person. "Of course not."
"But we were!" Taemin exclaims, white teeth shining in the dark bar. He swallows the rest of his drink and winks at Jongin, who is currently trying to tell him to shut up by shaking his head. His friend, however, doesn't pick up at Chanyeol's face. "He was my pretty cockslut."
Jongin gapes for a moment, scandalized. Not because Taemin is wrong, since Jongin considers himself rather passionate when it comes to sex - completely loses his head when he has a dick up in his ass - but because this isn't supposed to be heard by anyone apart from them two. And with all that, it doesn't seem important compared to Chanyeol's reaction.
"What the fuck?!" he yells, furious. Everyone jumps, startled, and Chanyeol gets up and knocks his glass by accident, its content spreading over the table in the process. Then he looks down at Jongin and assures him, "I'm going to punch your friend."
Everything happens too fast. Much to Taemin's luck, Jongin prevents Chanyeol from fulfilling his threat in time, grabs him by both arms so that his friend doesn't receive a hit from an illegal boxer. Chanyeol tries to shake him off for a moment, but he gives in when he sees Jongin’s expression - alarmed, almost in panic.
"I think we should call it off," Junmyeon hurries to say as Jongin pulls Chanyeol back, and the scared faces of the rest of the boys are enough of a response.
Chanyeol is mad. But, however, Jongin is madder. When they exit the pub, Chanyeol strides to his car without saying a word, and it’s then when Jongin realizes he’s not going to let him get away with his behavior. He hurries to bid his friends goodbye, though Jongdae tries to persuade him not to go after Chanyeol now because it’s counter productive. He deliberately ignores the advice and follows him to his car.
Jongin’s steps echo in the parking, mild darkness surrounding him, even if the place has enough light for him to watch how Chanyeol turns around and waits for him. Resting against his old car with crossed arms, he appears even angrier.
It’s as if a magnet pulls Jongin’s strings; he has come to argue with Chanyeol, to fight with him, yet that’s the last thing they do when they’re close to touching each other. Jongin doesn’t stop walking, breathless, and Chanyeol welcomes the crash with hungry eyes and hungry lips. All of a sudden Jongin is moaning into a messy kiss, allowing Chanyeol to bite him, to savour his lips with his tongue; he’s complying when Chanyeol grasps the back of his hair and pulls, forcing him to expose his neck, submissive, whimpering, ready to take whatever Chanyeol wants to give him.
“Get into the fucking car,” Chanyeol grunts against jaw, letting Jongin hold onto his waist as though he can’t stand on his own. “I’m going to teach you what being a cockslut is.”
Jongin doesn’t even have time to obey before Chanyeol is opening the backseat door and pushing him inside. He fumbles for a moment, until the door closes again and Chanyeol takes him from behind, hands on his hips to turn him around. He just gasps as he is laid down on the seat, Chanyeol hovering over him, and thinks that he doesn’t care they are in a car in the middle of a parking lot, he wants Chanyeol to fuck him hard without further questions.
But Chanyeol doesn’t seem to comply. He takes his time, fingers pressing up Jongin’s thighs until they’re on the hem of his jeans, and Jongin raises his hips as to ask him to pull them down. Chanyeol doesn’t, a hidden smirk starting to emerge from the corner of his mouth, until he rubs Jongin’s hardness, pushing him down again at the touch. It’s the long waiting that has Jongin already hard, cock aching for the feeling, so as soon as Chanyeol’s palm caresses him, he can’t help but to search for more and more pressure.
“Let me-” he whines, raising his hips once more, but then the boy unzips his jeans and pulls down, and Jongin is only to breath out a raspy, “Chanyeol.”
“What?” he teases him, leaning down until he’s kissing Jongin’s sternum, hot breath tickling on his skin.
Somehow, Jongin manages to get rid of his underwear too as Chanyeol sucks down his chest, being left with his half bottom completely naked, although that’s the last thing he thinks as he fists his own dick, impatient.
Chanyeol needs a second before realizing Jongin is touching himself, but the dark, possessive look that clouds his expression tells Jongin what he needs to know. He removes Jongin’s hand and wraps his own fingers around Jongin’s length, and the foreign touch, the warm skin rubbing the head of his cock draws a long moan from Jongin.
“Here? In the back of my car? In a parking lot?” Chanyeol continues, trying to embarrass him. Jongin just keens, the growing pressure erasing any shame from his mind. “Is that the kind of guy you are, hmm?”
Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but with Chanyeol’s hand stroking up and down, he forgets the question and pleads instead, “Yes, that’s- that’s, oh god.”
He hears Chanyeol’s laughter, hoarse with arousal, before he lets him go. The car isn’t too big and Chanyeol reaches for the glove compartment without much trouble, but Jongin takes advantage of the moment to get rid of his shirt and move to Chanyeol’s zipper. He doesn’t even bother to pull his jeans down, hands sticking inside to grab Chanyeol’s cock; he gasps for a second, caught off guard, until he’s back with the lube in his hands and eyes that roam over Jongin’s full nakedness.
It isn’t fair though, that Chanyeol has him naked on the backseat like a present, while he’s still fully clothed. Chanyeol seems oblivious, eager as he opens the lube, so Jongin snatches it off his hands and defies him, “Your clothes first, tattoo boy.”
Chanyeol hesitates for a second, as though he’s reticent to receive orders, but a moment later he’s consenting, exposing a whole torso covered in ink. And Jongin wants to touch, wants to be touched, now that he has come to terms with something that he forbid for himself all this time. When Chanyeol, pants already off and his cock sprung free, looks up at him again, he finds Jongin already with his own fingers up his ass.
Jongin is conscious of the grunt that Chanyeol releases, aroused by the scene, by the mere fact that Jongin hasn’t been able to wait for him to get naked. Chanyeol seems to hesitate, gaze playing between the way Jongin’s fingers disappear inside him and how his lips part in silent pleasure, chest going up and down; it’s just a small pause before he grabs Jongin and pushes two of his fingers in, not letting Jongin time to remove his own. The guy gasps and spreads his legs open further so that he can stick out his fingers, so that Chanyeol’s able to set a rhythm as he replaces Jongin’s.
It’s just a moment later when Chanyeol dips down and Jongin feels his warm tongue caressing his rim. All he can do is moan, speechless, as Chanyeol grasps his thighs and forces them up, only using his tongue to prepare him. Jongin has the urge of taking Chanyeol by the hair, but as soon as he attempts it, the man blocks him.
“We’re not going to do this, not this way,” Chanyeol warns him, in a low tone that shows that whether Jongin likes it or not, he doesn’t have a say in it.
He doesn’t pay attention, though, until Chanyeol lets go, leaving him open and ready, and he doesn’t have another option but to ask, “This way?”
The corner of Chanyeol’s mouth shoots up, like a master would smile at his puppet, just lightened by the weak light of the inside of the car. Jongin shivers when Chanyeol bends down, pressing his lips on his chest as he looks up at him. “With you on your back,” he clarifies, hands caressing Jongin’s side while he sits up, and then he whispers, “Instead, I want to see how you ride me.”
Again, it’s not a discussion, even though Jongin’s whine is more than an agreement. Chanyeol grasps him as if he didn’t weigh a single pound, and Jongin takes advantage to suck on the tattoos he has all over his neck. There’s not much space in the car, so he ends pressed against Chanyeol’s chest, straddling him as the other fishes for another long kiss. When Jongin pulls away, he’s burning to the last nerve of his body, but he still has breath to gasp when he feels Chanyeol’s guiding his dick against his rim. The man sends him a look, a pause to appreciate Jongin’s neediness that seems like an eternity, and then thrusts upwards and all the way in. Even after being prepared, Jongin is speechless for a moment, holding onto his shoulders until Chanyeol starts sliding out.
“Pretty,” Chanyeol growls, coiling his hands around Jongin’s waist.
Jongin passes his fingers over Chanyeol’s tattooed chest, knees giving in so that he sits down on Chanyeol completely. He does it too fast, which makes the boxer moan almost inaudibly, but Jongin only thinks about how he wants much more. He leans against the back of the front seat to support himself besides the hands on Chanyeol’s knees, and it’s then, when he’s with his legs spread wide and Chanyeol has a perfect view of him, he moves.
Chanyeol’s breathing becomes irregular as soon as Jongin fucks himself on his cock, though it’s painfully slow at first. Either way, he caresses his thighs and fists Jongin’s standing dick, and that does the trick for him to speed up. Chanyeol lets him set the pace, enjoying watching how Jongin becomes a mess for his own movements, endless moans that reverberate inside the small space. Jongin didn’t strike him as this type of boy, so needy, so keen to let him fuck him in the back of a car; Chanyeol had supposed they would go further with tiny steps, and instead Jongin is on top of him, too aroused to do anything else besides moaning.
“Chan-Chanyeol,” Jongin calls him, eagerly taking Chanyeol’s whole dick again and again, head thrown back against the seat. “Fuck me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s dying to take the lead, so in no time he has Jongin immobilized between his arms, thrusting upwards upon Jongin’s pleas for more. But then he guy seems to go numb, his erratic breathing completely stops, and Chanyeol isn’t surprised to hear a strained, “I’m coming.”
Chanyeol slips his dick out right away, and something similar to desperation appears on Jongin’s face. It isn’t for long, though, because Chanyeol handles him until he’s on four over the back seat, with his face pressed against it and his knees wobbling. It’s easier to slide in this time, but each movement seems to send Jongin to a blank state; his moans and the skin slapping against skin are the only sounds inside the car as Chanyeol fucks him mercilessly, not minding if he’s able to breathe anymore - he can still meet Chanyeol’s ramming every time, at least. That’s enough for Chanyeol, who sinks his fingers in Jongin’s hips to push deeper; Jongin comes right away with a high-pitched whimper, and it’s the image of him coming that makes Chanyeol follow, falling on top of him in the process.
It takes them several seconds to ride out the orgasm, to recover the strength in their limbs, but Chanyeol still slaps Jongin’s ass when he manages to get out of Jongin, which provokes a mild complaint from the other. However, Jongin follows by turning around and on his back, and Chanyeol doesn’t mind when he sees there’s cum in his car; he opts for climbing on top of Jongin, kissing from his chest to the crook of his neck, where he laughs, “You’re so fucking hot like this, pretty thing.”
When he pulls away, Jongin just runs his index finger over Chanyeol’s adam’s apple tattoo. Being the protagonist, Jongin thinks, isn’t that bad.