Would you be mine? Could you be mine? (2/2)
Which brings us to now: the housewarming dinner with the respective neighboring housemates, finally. Dinner, of course, has always been written in the script. It was an inevitable that Kyungsoo had no hope of avoiding, but at this point he is resigned to the fact that Chanyeol is rapidly becoming his best friend. He doesn’t let it go any further than that, he likes to think he’s very fervent on that front. He just wondered when feelings became trench warfare.
The truth is, Chanyeol has already reached his heart, like some infectious disease diagnosed too late. And maybe it is written. Kyungsoo won’t believe it, though; he’d rather guard his heart than let Chanyeol in. Too late now. Not that he knew yet.
As it turns out, Chanyeol actually is a fairly decent cook, much to Kyungsoo’s bitter dismay because how dare you. And the atmosphere is pleasant, in a way that Kyungsoo knows he shouldn’t be surprised about, giggling and teasing and making Sehun laugh so hard soda comes out of his nose.
After, they gather in the living room, shuffling furniture to get to their Harry Potter cupboard. There is much useless deliberation over whether they play a CD on the sound system, watch a movie, or play a video game. Once a consensus is actually reached-CD-Chanyeol has finished his first beer, and is moving back toward the kitchen, knowing the decision of which one will take longer than it will to actually listen to it. Baekhyun, on sharp alert despite sitting comfortably in Jongin’s lap, asks for a cocktail. Both Jongin and Kyungsoo have an early start the next day and are planning to leave relatively early, so rather than see this as a time where he is abandoned by his friends, Baekhyun decides to make the best of it and get kinda wasted.
“You always drink all my booze,” complains Chanyeol, still sauntering from the room..
Baekhyun grins toothily up at him. “So do you,” he replies in sing-song. He has a point.
When he comes back with two knew drinks, Chanyeol sees Kyungsoo sitting at one of the chairs beside the couch, Chanyeol’s guitar resting on his thighs. Chanyeol tries not to trip and spill on his way to Baekhyun.
Kyungsoo jumps a little at his reappearance. He pushes the guitar back to Chanyeol. “Sorry,” he says, “I was just curious.”
“Go ahead,” says Chanyeol obligingly, holding up his hands (and beer) with surprisingly convincing nonchalance. Because Kyungsoo looks damn good with a guitar. His hands were small but masculine, experimentally stroking at the strings in such a pretty, tentative way that Chanyeol couldn’t help the desire to have Kyungsoo play him like that. Then Kyungsoo’s lips purse in concentration and Chanyeol needs a moment of self-reflection.
He takes another gulp from his bottle, trying his best to not look too wistful, or directly in Kyungsoo’s direction. He hands Baekhyun his drink, then moves to sit on the floor, absently tracing shapes into the carpet.
He has it bad. For fuck’s sake, he has it bad. He has it so bad that for one wild moment, he actually seriously considers finger-writing “Kyungsoo + Chanyeol forever” in a little heart, but decides against it. He sighs, that higher-pitched, long-suffering kind of sigh directly linked with romantic troubles.
This makes Jongdae, from where he’s seated and in conversation with Jongin and Baekhyun about Singin’ in the Rain, perk up in recognition. He practically meerkats at Chanyeol, hands up at his chest in anticipation. Chanyeol sees him from the corner of his eye, wincing. With exaggerated movements, he wipes away the images in the carpet in an attempt to distract focus.
Jongdae doesn’t drop it, watching him in his peripheral vision.
Chanyeol thinks he’s safe when Jongdae goes back to his conversation (he and Baekhyun are just tipsy enough by now that the topic has narrowed to the very pressing importance of Gene Kelly’s ass), but far from it. Kyungsoo is still fiddling at his guitar, and it’s at about half a minute after Jongdae has ended his penetrative stare that Chanyeol chances a glance in his direction.
He’s just finishing up when Chanyeol looks at him. Kyungsoo meets his eyes, a shy smile gracing his angelic features. Chanyeol is both rapt and a little hazy-eyed as he watches him. Kyungsoo hunches his shoulders slightly, removing the guitar from his lap. “Thanks,” he says quietly, and sets it back in his case. Chanyeol nods, looking away again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Chanyeol continues watching him. He looks interested in the topic being discussed on the couch, but before moving from his spot, he runs a hand through his hair. Chanyeol, involuntarily, sighs appreciatively.
“Aha!” exclaims Jongdae from the couch.
Chanyeol flinches, turning slowly to look at his tormentor. “‘Aha!’ what?” he asks warily.
“You, sir, have got it bad,” announces Jongdae.
Sehun, from his perch on the only other chair in the room, freezes. When Chanyeol looks at him, he shakes his head ever so slightly. It wasn’t him.
“All that wistful sighing? You’ve been bitten by the love bug.”
“Gross,” is Chanyeol’s instant reaction.
“It’s good to see that you’re actually interested in someone,” continues Jongdae. He said “someone,” that means he didn’t realize it was Kyungsoo. At least in that sense he was in the clear, although he was the only one in the room who didn’t know that, and therefore the more likely to put his foot in his mouth. “You didn’t used to get tied down.”
Now it’s Chanyeol’s turn to freeze. He looks up at Kyungsoo, who seems significantly more rigid than normal as well. From his vantage point on the floor, Chanyeol feels like he’s in one of those archaic surgery theatres and everyone was seeing his insides being taken out.
He started laughing nervously. “You make me sound like a slut or something, Jongdae. It wasn’t, like, one night stands, I mean I dated…” he reasons, eyes darting to gauge Kyungsoo’s reaction at any interval.
“I don’t know, man, there were a lot of girls…”
“And guys!” blurts out Chanyeol, throwing a glance in Kyungsoo’s direction again. “Guys too.”
Jongdae eyes him. “Yeah,” he agrees slowly, a little confused about why Chanyeol was getting so defensive. “Mostly girls, though. You even preyed on international students. Remember when we went to orientation-”
“Yes, I remember how we met our housemates respective international romances,” quips Chanyeol.
“You chatted Zitao the hell up,” chimes in Sehun. Chanyeol shot him a You’re really not helping at all look.
“I mean, I guess. But we were never a thing,” he says nervously. “We’re just friends now. And besides, he introduced you”-he pointed at Jongdae-“to Liyin and he’s Sehun ‘Dirty Mandarin Talk’ partner now so.”
“I’m just saying,” adds Jongdae. “Maybe you’re breaking from your douche shell.”
Next to him, Kyungsoo looks about ready to shoot lasers out of his eyeballs. He looked to Jongin and Jongin actually jumped in fright. “I’m going home now.” Jongin agrees to follow after, if only because he felt denying might put him at risk for getting two burn holes shot right through him.
It isn’t until Kyungsoo is home that he realizes Chanyeol wasn’t staring off into space, but at him.
✮☆✮☆✮
The thought that Chanyeol could be “serious” about Kyungsoo was completely unfathomable and absurd to him. Chanyeol was rarely serious about anything, least of all people. These are the thoughts that swim through his mind as he gets ready for bed.
He slips under the covers and makes himself a cocoon of blankets, slowly but surely drifting off to sleep…
Kyungsoo is slow to wake, still half asleep when he registers that someone has crawled into his bed. Foreign hands find his waist, arms circling around. A warm breath ghosts over Kyungsoo’s shoulder and neck, growing closer until soft lips collide with the skin below his ear.
Kyungsoo’s breath hitches; his first instinct would usually be to fight tooth and nail to get whoever this was out of his bed, get their hands off...his hips...but he’s still more asleep that awake, and it feels so nice and-
“Chanyeol,” he sighs soft like a song, moaning so quietly it hardly comes out more than a breath. Eyes still closed, though, Kyungsoo frowns quizzically. They aren’t what he expected, these fingers. They are soft, pads firm but uncalloused, thin and long-the hands of a pianist, not someone who has abused them with finger-picking ruthless guitar strings or the vibrating shock of course wooden drumsticks.
Luckily, the intruder doesn’t seem to notice, and answers back, “Jongin…”
Baekhyun.
Kyungsoo leaps up from the bed, tripping and knocking over the lamp before his back collides with the wall. He’s breathing heavy, now suddenly too awake. Oh my God, why did I say Chanyeol?
Baekhyun looks blearily up at him in the dark. “Well if you’re not in the mood,” he slurs, dropping his head onto Kyungsoo’s pillow and curling up in a ball. He only makes a few, puppy-like whimpers before he’s out like a light.
Kyungsoo’s heart is still pounding when Jongin runs into the room to investigate the commotion. He’s still so flustered, all he does is point at the sleeping Baekhyun.
Jongin guffaws despite himself. “Sorry about that. This used to be our room, remember? He probably thought you were me.” He pauses, leaning down over his hopeless boyfriend. “He didn’t assault you or anything, did he? He’s kind of a horny drunk…”
“N-no…” he half-lies.
“I figured as much. You probably would have punched him across the room if that were the case.” He then scoops Baekhyun up bridal-style, tilting his head to lean against his temple. “Hup! Come on, Baek.” He turns back to Kyungsoo. “Sweet dreams.”
Kyungsoo nods dumbly, and lies awake for the rest of the night.
✮☆✮☆✮
“He’s avoiding me,” expresses Chanyeol, unleashing Eggroll as he steps into the house, back from his evening walk.
Sehun, at this point, knows well enough that typically when Chanyeol says “he,” the poor fool is talking about Kyungsoo. He’s sitting on the couch with Zitao and they’re watching Zitao’s itty bitty puppy Candy struggle to take off her bow. Eggroll goes over to her and sniffs. If a golden retriever could frown inquisitively, Eggroll certainly does. He looks back to his owner with big eyes as if to say, Is this a real dog?
Chanyeol almost answers no, but instead greets Zitao.
“He’s not avoiding you,” sighs Sehun exasperatedly.
“Yes, he is,” he says adamantly. “We always walk our dogs the same way, meet up and go to the park. But it’s been days since the dinner and he’s been taking a different route every time. When I do talk to him, he barely says anything. I bet it’s all because Jongdae went and-”
Speak of the devil: “Jongdae went and what?” he interrupted.
Chanyeol turned to look at the culprit, coming back from the kitchen. “Nothing,” he mutters. “I gotta go...go off-script.” He puts his jacket back on, and leaves the house in a flurry.
“What was that all about?” asked Jongdae.
Sehun only shook his head.
Kyungsoo is the one to open the door when Chanyeol reaches his house, reluctantly opening the door wider to let him in.
Chanyeol frowns. Someone else usually greets him at the door.. “Jean’s not here? Jongin and Baekhyun?”
“They’re at the Singin’ in the Rain wrap party. Jean's outside,” he explains calmly. He adds, incredulous, “Did you run here?”
Chanyeol only nods, shucking off his jacket. “I came to apologize,” he adds, turning to face him and walking backward as they make their way to the living room.
Kyungsoo’s cheeks burn. “About?”
“Jongdae. He was exaggerating and it’s really, it’s really not like that anymore.” Chanyeol skewed his lips to the side, bringing out the dimple and Kyungsoo wondered if he was doing this on purpose. “Look, he was being a tool, but he was right about one thing: I am serious about someone. He just didn’t realize it was about you.”
It feels as though Kyungsoo’s stomach drops through the floor. He says nothing, not sure if he can believe or trust Chanyeol...even as much as he wants to
Chanyeol fills the silence anyway. “Jongin told me to go off-script. Well, I’m going the fuck off-script,” he half-mutters, half-yells, hands on his hips and a bit of a crazy look in his eyes. He puts his hands together, fidgeting and slotting the fingers together before untwisting them and retwisting them. “I have a confession to make.”
Kyungsoo takes a step back, eyeing him warily. “Whaaat?”
He takes a deep, dramatic breath, and now he’s really scaring Kyungsoo. He admits, “I...I like ferrets.”
Kyungsoo stares, at a loss.
“When I was a kid, I had a ferret, and a little carrier, and I was in a ferret club. I try to hide it because I was a fat loser who just loved ferrets so much and it’s really...it’s not good for my image and I…” He’s losing confidence under Kyungsoo’s unyielding stare, but he manages to blurt out, “I have a secret file folder of just cute pictures of ferrets hidden on my laptop. Like porn.”
Then Kyungsoo bursts out into high-pitched, squeally laughter, right in Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol shrinks, shoulders slumped with obvious regret. “That’s it?” says Kyungsoo breathlessly, wiping away tears and doubled over. He’s laughing so hard his stomach hurts. “‘I like ferrets’? That’s your big reveal?” He finally settles down, asking, “What’s wrong with liking ferrets? They’re cute.”
“Right!?!?!?” exclaims Chanyeol, on-edge. “Oh my god, don’t get me started, I’m such a dweeb…” He tries to run off, but Kyungsoo grabs his sleeve. “Look, I’m sorry, I know you can’t stand me-”
“That’s not true-”
“Jongin told me to go ‘off-script’ if I really wanted this to work. And I do. I want this to work, but if you don’t like me...then just tell me. I’m not going to do anything dramatic like move away or whatever, but I’ll stay out of your hair.”
Kyungsoo sighs angrily, his grip on Chanyeol’s sleeve tightening. “Maybe it’s time for me to go off-script too. The truth is...the truth is, I like being your neighbor. I like knowing when you’re home safe. I like that I can just peek over to your room and see your God awful dancing. I fucking hate it, but I like hearing you practice drums. I like hearing you rap in the shower. I love how your voice carries from across the way. Especially your laugh.” He takes a deep breath. “And I love that it feels like there’s no distance between us at all.”
“What else do you love?” asks Chanyeol so quietly.
He says it before it can get stuck in his throat: “I love you.”
Then Chanyeol suddenly finds himself pressing into Kyungsoo’s space, forehead resting against his and arms on either side of him, hands seeking purchase on the wall behind. Kyungsoo sits heavily as Chanyeol walks him back against the couch, caging him. But it’s then that Chanyeol’s mind stops dead, wiped blank. He was going to kiss Kyungsoo, he’s sure of it, but now he’s a little lost. He’s looking into Kyungsoo’s eyes, feeling Kyungsoo’s breath on his lips, smelling Kyungsoo’s cologne-and he’s lost in the moment.
“Chanyeol?” breathes Kyungsoo, winded and staring down at the other’s parted lips.
“Yeah?” he says, all but gasping simply from proximity. His tongue darts out a moment, wetting the lips capturing Kyungsoo’s attention.
“You gonna kiss me already?”
Chanyeol chuckles lightly, leaning into Kyungsoo. The tips of their noses brush lightly against each other. “Yeah,” he answers, swallowing nervously. “Just...give me a minute.”
“I can’t wait that long,” he whispers, grabbing Chanyeol by the front of his shirt and pulling him to his lips. As the room fills with the sudden intakes of breath and the low rumble from Chanyeol’s chest, Kyungsoo realizes that somehow he has been waiting since they met to be kissed like this.
Chanyeol’s hands slip from the wall, finding Kyungsoo’s shoulders and squeezing breathy, satisfying sounds from the other. He pulls himself closer, knees sliding over the couch on either side of Kyungsoo’s legs until he’s straddling him. It’s a little unwieldy, blindly groping and he knows he could easily pull apart and position himself comfortably-but he also knows that he doesn’t want to stop kissing Kyungsoo, maybe ever. His lips yield and part so sweetly for Chanyeol, head tilted back and palms resting on his waist and hip.
When he does break away (for air), Kyungsoo’s pupils are blown wide and he looks like he’s struggling to control his breathing. Chanyeol does no such thing, he’s near panting; the way Kyungsoo’s thumb is stroking the jut of his pelvic bone really isn’t helping that front. Kyungsoo pushes himself up again, trying to reach Chanyeol as he’s hovering above him, just out of kissing range.
Chanyeol grins smugly, sitting tall and tightening his knees around Kyungsoo’s thighs. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Two can play at that game. Without warning, Kyungsoo slams Chanyeol’s ass down on his legs, forcing him to sit. He yelps, thumb pressing into Kyungsoo’s collarbone in surprise.
Chanyeol shudders. He wants to demand what that was for, but he likes Kyungsoo in control so much he’s afraid his voice will crack when he asks.
Kyungsoo smirks, though Chanyeol is heavier than he looks. He grabs his ass and pulls him closer until their pelvises meet at the middle, making Chanyeol gasp at the sudden, heavy hardness against his own. “You started it,” quips Kyungsoo with a surprising pout. “Now kiss me again.”
Chanyeol’s stomach drops, mouth falling open against Kyungsoo’s in compliance. This is out of order, he realizes. He’s never done it like this before. Everything’s upside down and twisted around and Kyungsoo loves him and he’s pretty damn sure he loves him back and-this is all so very, blindingly shiny bright new. Chanyeol has always liked new: new lover, new hat, new bike, etc. But not like this. It’s never been like this. It has always been the newest version of the latest thing, but Kyungsoo is like no one and nothing he has ever tasted. New has never been scary, but this is. He’s finally gone “off-script,” and for fuck’s sake Kyungsoo knows too much about him, and he still loves him.
He loves him. And Chanyeol definitely loves him back.
So Chanyeol just lets everything happen to him, submits himself to Kyungsoo. He’s clumsy and useless and fumbling and stuttering on easy, practiced words-as if all his experience, all his knowledge means nothing, and now all he knows how to be is Kyungsoo’s.
It doesn’t take Chanyeol long before he’s so hard it almost hurts. He attempts, “Um, you got any-?”
“Lube?” interrupts Kyungsoo, licking his lips quickly in a way that nearly sets Chanyeol off balance. “You want to?”
“I just. Sorry, this is too fast, I just…”
“It’s not that,” says Kyungsoo, pulling up Chanyeol’s shirt. Chanyeol obligingly lifts his arms to free it. “It’s just...the couch? I share this with Jongin and Baekhyun…”
“What, you don’t think they’ve done it on every surface of this place?”
Kyungsoo grins wryly. “Good point.” He then traces the waistline of Chanyeol’s boxers peeking out over his jeans. He smirks a little, knowing Chanyeol has a bit of a subby side, experimentally asks, “What do you want me to do to you?”
Chanyeol shudders, taking ahold of Kyungsoo’s hands and guiding them over his crotch. He’d be happy with this, he’d be happy to use Kyungsoo’s hands to jerk himself off, but he wants more, he wants…He looks into Kyungsoo’s eyes. “You know.”
With surprising might, Kyungsoo hooks his arms under Chanyeol’s thighs, lifts him, and flips him back onto the couch. “Stay,” he commands.
Chanyeol is on the fence whether or not he wants to admit how that one word made his dick jump. Despite all his fuss earlier about shared living spaces, Kyungsoo seems really keen to fuck Chanyeol on this couch. This change of tune is something Chanyeol is more than willing to groove to.
Kyungsoo comes back promptly, lube and a condom in each hand. “Undress,” he instructs.
Chanyeol hastily complies, babbling as he does, “I’ve never...I mean, I’ve been with guys but... not like this…”
“Chanyeol?” says Kyungsoo, joining him on the couch and spreading his legs. “Shut up.”
Chanyeol pantomimes zipping his lip, and considers “throwing away the key” before he has a better idea: he holds up and out his pinched fingers, and places “it” carefully in the palm of Kyungsoo’s hand. The hand dips as though real weight is pressed into it, like some tangible promise injected into a stupid, silly gesture. The key to his lips, the key to his heart. Kyungsoo wants to be revolted by such a corny, cheesy thing but he finds himself elated, and this pleasant, inexplicable buzzing at the base of his skull that then falls down through his body. And that fall brings him further in love with this idiot, who now after presenting this invisible, imaginary key has been made his idiot.
This is made even more evident by the way Chanyeol gives under him, pulls his fingers in and rides them so well. He’s wanton and needy and dazedly reaching for Kyungsoo. His fingers hook under Kyungsoo’s bent knee where he’s sitting comfortably, casually undoing Chanyeol, pulling him closer.
“You sure you haven’t done this before?” asks Kyungsoo, far from stoic as he uses his other hand to tease Chanyeol’s balls with the tips of his fingers. His dick twitches with a groan, and he opens wider for him. “You’re being so good.”
Chanyeol swears under his breath, chest heaving and glittering with sweaty effort. “Kyungsoo...” he whispers.
Kyungsoo unzips his pants, long overdue. He pulls at Chanyeol’s thighs, draping them over his own. Their cocks barely brush against each other but Kyungsoo still has to bite his lip in restraint.
Chanyeol’s eyes are closed, muttering, “Please, please, please,” under his breath.
Kyungsoo considers asking him to speak up, but he’s too gone himself. Once the condom is on, he enters him slowly, at least, gentle for the most part. One hand slides up his torso, steadying him. Chanyeol only keeps muttering Kyungsoo’s name, lost in sensation.
“Chanyeol,” says Kyungsoo, grinding into him. “Chanyeol. Look at me.”
Chanyeol does, eyes too big but still heavily-lidded. Kyungsoo pulls on Chanyeol’s wrists, pulling him closer until Chanyeol is sitting up on his lap. He’s so much taller than him like this, spread over his thighs, but Kyungsoo hardly cares anymore. He slips his full lips around a nipple and Kyungsoo cradles his neck, moaning low. Chanyeol rests his lips on Kyungsoo’s hairline, trying to distract himself from the way his dick feels against Kyungsoo’s shirt. It’s just rough enough to keep him on the cusp of orgasm, but then Kyungsoo pushes him back to pull it off. His abdomen is soft and glorious and Chanyeol really can’t last long at the pace they’re going now-
Kyungsoo cries out the same time Chanyeol comes, clenching around him; then hums sweetly, languidly bringing himself to the same height, still thrusting inside Chanyeol. He’s overstimulated and mumbling but Kyungsoo can’t hear him from the roaring in his ears and the heat in his belly. Then his hips stutter and he shudders inside him, biting down on Chanyeol’s shoulder.
It takes them more than a few moments to gather themselves, and Chanyeol is the first to recuperate, carefully lifting himself off of Kyungsoo. Diligently, quietly, he cleans Kyungsoo off, even removes and throws away the condom.
“Chanyeol?” murmurs Kyungsoo, eyes hazy in the high. For a moment, he’s afraid that he’s leaving him, but then he returns to the couch and wraps his arms around his middle.
Kyungsoo has no idea whatsoever how Chanyeol still has the strength to even stand after that-he has always come across as the kind of dude who passes out post-orgasm-let alone lift anything, but Chanyeol (still naked) manages to lift Kyungsoo up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Chanyeol!” protests Kyungsoo when he pats his ass, but he’s not really mad.
He sets him down gently in his own bed and curls up beside him. Of course he’s a snuggler.
“You know…” he begins, settled with his hands linked at Kyungsoo’s hip, “we are looking for another housemate.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” warns Kyungsoo playfully. “Besides, I think Jongin and Baekhyun would die of starvation without me. And I already said, I like being neighbors.”
“Are you sure that’s what you said?” he asks cheekily. “Sure sounded like you lo-”
“I’m very comfortable right now, don’t make me hit you with this pillow.”
“It’s okay,” assures Chanyeol. He kisses Kyungsoo’s cheek and whispers, “I love you too.”
Kyungsoo hits him with his pillow.