Boy, can I be what you like for 8gfat [2/2]

[yeolliepopday]

The problem with one-night stands, Chanyeol realizes the next morning, after waking up in Junmyeon’s once-carefully-made bed and gazing around the empty room, is that you can’t have sex with the person again after the night is over. That’s the whole idea, right? Fuck once, never see each other again. Simple. Clean. Easy.

Except in this case, where all Chanyeol can think about is fucking Kyungsoo into the mattress, as he gasps and moans Chanyeol’s name in that voice that drives Chanyeol crazy because it makes it seem like his name is the most beautiful word in the world. All Chanyeol can imagine is having Kyungsoo’s cock inside of him, hearing Kyungsoo’s stuttering, muffled groans as he bites his own lip and fucks Chanyeol harder, like it’s his fault Kyungsoo has succumbed to emotion, to pleasure. But that’s not what Kyungsoo wants from him-that’s not what this was. This was meant to be a one-time thing.

It’s not until Chanyeol’s locking the door to Junmyeon’s now-empty apartment, having cleaned everything as thoroughly as he could, and debating whether he can make it to class on time, that he realizes there’s a melody beating against the inside of his skull. It’s the same one he’d been humming last night, except now it feels indescribably new, makes his body thrum with the need to pour it out, give it shape.

Chanyeol decides to skip class today.

“So…am I ever going to find out why you commandeered my esteemed sugar daddy’s apartment last night?” Sehun asks, swiveling dramatically in his desk chair as Chanyeol enters the room, throwing his backpack to the floor as he leaps into bed. He’s been in a tiny practice room for hours, fitting together harmonies and chord progressions, trying out different keys to find the one that best fits the song pulling itself together inside his brain, something about sudden passion and slivers of moonlight lighting dark rooms and hot skin slipping over cool sheets.

“Junmyeon’s too poor to be a sugar daddy,” Chanyeol points out, voice muffled by the blankets he’s smashing his face into. “He’s still a student. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Just you wait,” Sehun grins disgustingly widely, sticking his tongue out when Chanyeol glares at him. “He’s probably going to end up richer than all of us put together in a few years. And, when that happens, I’ll be prepared.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Chanyeol snorts, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the pounding headache he can feel prickling at the edges of his consciousness. “You may have been able to trick him into dating you for the past year, but I doubt you’ll be able to keep it up much longer. At some point he has to realize what a sarcastic, self-centered bastard you are.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” Sehun points out sweetly, throwing a crumpled-up worksheet at Chanyeol’s head. It bounces off, and Chanyeol cracks one eye open long enough to give Sehun a long-suffering stare. “Is there someone new in my dear roommate’s life? Someone who, to put it as indelicately as possible, is sticking it to you real good?”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol moans, wriggling around until he can pull the covers over himself. Unfortunately, they don’t reach all the way up to his ears, so he can’t block out the sound of Sehun’s excited gasp.

“So there is someone!” Sehun claps his hands delightedly. “I haven’t seen you this upset since that really hot girl from your art class said your ridiculous painting was very ‘derivative’ and ‘transformative’ and a lot of other fancy art adjectives it most certainly was not.”

“Hey, I was really proud of that painting,” Chanyeol whines, half-jokingly, because it’s not like he’d really tried. It’s not like he really tries in any class that isn’t related to music.

“Tell me,” Sehun orders, turning back to his computer and spontaneously deleting an entire paragraph of what looks like an important essay.

“Essay not going well?” Chanyeol ventures, desperate to change the subject from anything related to Kyungsoo, or Kyungsoo’s lips, or Kyungsoo’s cock, or the way last night burned a melody into Chanyeol’s head that refuses to go away.

“Tell me,” Sehun sing-songs, frowning at his computer and deleting half a dozen more sentences. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me. I have nothing to do this afternoon. I could literally keep bothering you about this forever.”

“Fine!” Chanyeol shouts, rolling onto his back and throwing up his arms in defeat. He doesn’t doubt that Sehun would continue bothering him all night. He’s done it before. “I may have…hooked up with someone. Last night.”

“And?” Sehun queries, turning back to Chanyeol and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Were they any good?”

“He was…” Chanyeol gulps, because the more he thinks back on it-the more he tries to remember every detail of last night-the more his memories of Kyungsoo become tangled with words like desire and desperation and darkness and Chanyeol can’t handle this right now. Not without getting an embarrassing hard-on right here, in his bed, in the middle of the afternoon, with Sehun staring curiously at him. “He was good. It was good.”

“He?” Sehun’s definitely excited now. Not for the first time, Chanyeol curses his decision to room with someone who is completely unembarrassed when talking about sex. “You haven’t been with a guy since-”

“I know,” Chanyeol cuts him off, because they really don’t need to get back into that. “But there’s just something about this guy. He’s really…I don’t know.”

“Hot?” Sehun suggests. “Sexy? Wicked good in bed? Willing to fuck you, period?”

“No,” Chanyeol snorts, because it seems so strange now to think of Kyungsoo as “hot.” Because he isn’t, really. That’s not the right word at all. Kyungsoo is…slight yet solid. Beautiful. The promise of something more lurking just below the surface. “Hot” seems so mundane, so down-to-earth, so different from the achingly lovesick lyrics pinging around in Chanyeol’s brain right now. There are so many words, all of them not-quite-right, none of them fitting into pretty patterns.

“So are you going to see him again?” Sehun asks, getting bored by Chanyeol’s short responses. Or maybe he’s just realizing how tired Chanyeol is and deciding to be merciful and cease the interrogation.

“No,” Chanyeol sighs sadly, rubbing his eyes vigorously with his hands to try to prevent himself from falling asleep. He still has so much work to do. “It as a one-night thing. You know.”

“Uh, no, I don’t know,” Sehun frowns, glancing at Chanyeol with an expression on his face frighteningly close to pity, or maybe worried understanding. “You obviously like him. Does he not want…?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Chanyeol says firmly, because he’d seen Kyungsoo’s face when he’d first stepped into the apartment last night, had fallen asleep watching the way Kyungsoo’s eyes had glimmered in the slivers of light creeping in through the open window, staring anywhere but at Chanyeol.

“Sucks,” Sehun hums sympathetically. “Well, maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but I think you should go back to…wherever it was you met him. Sketchy alley. Strip club. McDonalds. And try to find him. Because I haven’t seen you make that face in a while.”

“What face?” Chanyeol demands, sitting up and scrunching up his face as he glares at Sehun. “I’m not making a face.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Sehun laughs sarcastically. “But seriously. Think about it.”

Chanyeol doesn’t want to think about it, and so he doesn’t. He doesn’t think about it for the rest of that day, as he struggles through flash cards, trying to remember the differences between mixolydian and aeolian modes. He doesn’t think about it that night, when he curls into his blankets and tries to will himself to sleep. He doesn’t think about it the next morning when he finally drags himself to class and spends the entire period tapping out three-four rhythms on his notebook instead of taking notes.

In fact, because Chanyeol has always been good at self-control, he doesn’t think about it until he’s shoving open the door to the music building later that night, hoping a few more hours trapped in a small room with a piano and his thoughts will help him put together a bit more of the song he can feel sticking to his ribcage, trapped inside of him. He doesn’t think about it until he almost slams right into someone hurrying out of the building through the same door. He doesn’t think about it until he jerks sideways to avoid a collision, glances up to apologize to whoever it was he almost mowed down, and locks eyes with the only person capable of making all that self-control completely useless.

“Oh,” Chanyeol breathes. Kyungsoo stares at him with an odd look in his eyes, something Chanyeol can’t quite decipher.

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo mumbles, barely sparing Chanyeol a glance before sweeping out the door and into the night.

“Shit,” Chanyeol groans to himself, considering slumping to the floor and never getting up again. Because seeing Kyungsoo, in the music building of all places, somewhere Kyungsoo has no real reason to be, makes him think about it. Makes him think about Kyungsoo’s smooth skin, and his little breathy gasps when Chanyeol had fucked into him just right, and the way his eyes had glittered, promising so many secrets, so many walls that Chanyeol wants to knock down. So many words Chanyeol wants to write.

And after that, his self-control goes down the drain.

He tries, he really does. He locks himself in that practice room, bangs out a few half-hearted melodies on the slightly out-of-tune piano, scribbles down some lyrics in the faded notebook he brought with him. But nothing seems right.

Everything is half-there, half-not. He’ll write out a few measure of something that almost sounds like a chorus, or a bridge, but then can’t stick the landing-the notes drift in and out of his reach and he can’t hold onto any of them long enough to force them out onto the paper. It’s like trying to capture smoke with his bare hands. Impossible.

“ARGH!” Chanyeol finally yells, throwing his pencil at the wall and collapsing dramatically onto the piano, dissonant chords resonating well with the anger and frustration that’s been building inside of him all day.

It’s not really his fault that he does what he does next.

What else is he supposed to do? He stops by his room long enough to grab a jacket and see if Sehun’s around-he isn’t, not that Chanyeol’s surprised. Ever since Junmyeon got his own apartment, Sehun’s spent basically every weekend there. But then he’s out the door, carefully pulling it shut behind him, trying to steady his breathing.

“Hey, Chanyeol!” Someone says as he passes through the first-floor lounge. Jongdae, lives on Chanyeol’s floor, nice guy, in his art class.

“Hi!” Chanyeol chirps hurriedly, flashing his best smile as he stumbles out the door into the dark. He’s not even sure what time it is-and when he pulls out his phone to check, he stares at the screen for a full ten seconds before putting it back in his pocket and finding himself at a complete loss as to what the numbers he’d just been staring at had been.

All he knows is that it’s dark. It’s dark and getting kind of chilly-Chanyeol congratulates himself on bringing the jacket. If you’re going to go chase pathetically after what was supposed to be a one-night stand, then you might as well go prepared.

It’s a short walk to the shop-too short-but long enough for Chanyeol to second-guess his decision about thirteen times. He doesn’t even know if Kyungsoo’s working tonight. He doesn’t even know if Kyungsoo will want to see him. He doesn’t even know what he wants-Sex? Love? An ending to the song that’s been trapped in his brain ever since he first saw Kyungsoo? None of the above? But Chanyeol has made a complete fool of himself enough times to know that he’ll survive this-whatever this is-and so when he reaches the restaurant he doesn’t give himself time to think before he walks inside.

Chanyeol’s heart is beating quick as a rabbit’s when he shoves open the door, vaguely registering the chime tinkling in the background. It’s dark inside, which makes sense, since they’re closing in approximately two minutes, but not so dark that Chanyeol can’t see Kyungsoo standing right in front of him at the counter-turning to look-

“Oh, thank god,” Kyungsoo groans, stepping forward, shoving Chanyeol back against the wall, and kissing him hard. Chanyeol’s hands fly up instinctively to hold Kyungsoo in place, and Kyungsoo’s hands are there just as quickly, twining their fingers together and pressing the backs of Chanyeol’s hands against the wall.

“We’re-in public,” Chanyeol gasps when Kyungsoo pulls back, lips puffy and shiny with spit.

“So?” Kyungsoo smirks, but he can obviously see the way Chanyeol is squirming with discomfort so he steps further back, letting go of Chanyeol’s hands.

“Come back with me,” Chanyeol whispers, eyes flicking away from Kyungsoo’s face to sweep over the dark room behind him. It’s completely empty, the corners shrouded in shadow. The only illumination comes from the solitary bulb over the cash register, shedding dim yellow light across the counter. Chanyeol knows he must look pale and sallow in this light-can’t possibly look attractive, desirable-but Kyungsoo looks like he’s glowing, each strand of hair and bit of skin absorbing the light rather than reflecting it back, and in that moment Chanyeol wants him with every fiber of his being. Wants to swallow him up and never give him back to the world. Keep him tucked away in Chanyeol’s mind, just like this, giving his music to Chanyeol alone.

“Well,” Kyungsoo breathes, stepping sideways to the door Chanyeol’s just come through, turning the lock so it clicks harshly into place. “Who says we have to go anywhere?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen at the implication, at what they’d be risking, but he can feel a bass line starting to keep time in his head, notes and phrases colliding and coming together in his mind, and this is more than he can stand to give up. It’s worth the risk.

So Chanyeol leans in, and this time he’s the one doing the kissing, bending Kyungsoo backwards as he licks hotly into his mouth, daring Kyungsoo to start up where Chanyeol leaves off.

And Kyungsoo does. Tugs on Chanyeol’s arm, kisses him breathless as he steadily shoves him backwards until Chanyeol’s lower back hits the edge of a table. It’s intoxicating, feeling the sharp-edged wood press into his back as Kyungsoo grinds against his front, cocks rubbing against each other. Chanyeol moans, pulls Kyungsoo closer, ignores the pain in his back as he’s bent at an even more awkward angle.

Of course that’s when Kyungsoo pulls backwards, grinning blearily as he strips off his own shirt, yanks at the hem of Chanyeol’s to encourage him to do the same. And Chanyeol does, even though he ends up getting tangled in the fabric for a few seconds as Kyungsoo snorts in laughter. But then they’re pressing against each other, skin on skin, and Kyungsoo is so hot and perfect and close that Chanyeol can barely breathe. Kyungsoo’s fingers drift lower, toying with the waistband of Chanyeol’s too-tight jeans, and Chanyeol hums in satisfaction, encouraging him to continue.

“Can I?” Kyungsoo breathes against Chanyeol neck, and Chanyeol nods vigorously, fairly certain that he’s currently incapable of human speech.

So Kyungsoo does. Unzips Chanyeol’s jeans, drags them down quickly along with his boxers, before sinking down and engulfing Chanyeol’s now-aching erection with his hot, wet, perfect mouth. Chanyeol moans embarrassingly loudly, back arching before gets himself under control. It’s not like he’s never gotten a blowjob before. It’s just that, with Kyungsoo sucking down his cock, tongue pressing just right, it’s like the physical sensations have been mixed with music. Like Kyungsoo’s etching harmonies into his skin as his fingers press hard into Chanyeol’s thighs. Like he’s singing the half-finished lyrics Chanyeol’s been furiously writing the past few days as he bobs up and down, vibrations escalating the pleasure, making Chanyeol’s eyes squeeze shut because it’s all too much. It’s intoxicating.

And then, looking into Kyungsoo’s eyes, seeing that same dark glittering that reminds Chanyeol of dominant seventh chords and syncopated rhythms somehow still falling into place, he knows what Kyungsoo wants. He knows what Kyungsoo wants. And Chanyeol wants, more than anything, to give it to him.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol groans, as Kyungsoo mouths along the edge of his erection, presses bruising kisses to the insides of his thighs. “Fuck me. Kyungsoo, please.”

Chanyeol can tell he’s hit home, can tell he’s found that sensitive spot, when Kyungsoo jerks slightly, pauses in his ministrations for a half-second before continuing like he hasn’t heard.

“I’m serious,” Chanyeol manages to gasp, breathless, as Kyungsoo pulls off his cock with a filthy pop, hand replacing his mouth as he looks steadily up at Chanyeol, studying him.

“People always…” Kyungsoo says softly, trailing off, never stopping the swift, delicate motions of his pretty, pretty fingers as he thinks, speaks. “It’s been so long since someone…”

“You said you don’t want to be treated like a doll, like you’re delicate and fragile. Prove it.” Chanyeol stares defiantly at Kyungsoo after he says it, dares him to tell him what Chanyeol knows he wants-what Kyungsoo is always just on the verge of admitting.

“How?” Kyungsoo asks, but he shivers, and Chanyeol knows Kyungsoo knows exactly what he’s offering, exactly what he wants.

“Fuck me,” Chanyeol whispers again, fighting the blush crawling its way up to his cheeks, because Chanyeol isn’t the blushing type. But there’s something about Kyungsoo that makes Chanyeol want to break all his own rules. Kyungsoo, who for some reason has melodies twining with his breath, lyrics stamped onto his skin.

Kyungsoo hisses, like Chanyeol’s burned him, like he’s afraid of his own desperate desire, his own burning need. Chanyeol files those words away for later. And then Kyungsoo’s reaching into his pockets, pulling out a condom, a tiny bottle of lube, and Chanyeol barely has time to worry about the fact that he had those so easily accessible when Kyungsoo’s yanking on his arm, urging him over so his stomach is pressed against the cold tabletop. His cock burns, rubbing against the underside of the table, and Chanyeol wants to touch himself, release some of the pressure, but his hands are busy pressing against the table, preventing it from cutting deep into his stomach.

And then Kyungsoo’s pressing one slick finger inside him, working it in so slowly Chanyeol thinks he might combust. But this feeling is comforting in its familiarity, Chanyeol is used to this. Slow and sweet, that boy used to say, laughing softly to himself as Chanyeol whined and wriggled, sobbing with desire before there was even a cock inside him. Chanyeol knows how to tamp down the pleasure, keep it from peaking too soon. What he’s not prepared for is what happens next.

Kyungsoo doesn’t stay slow, doesn’t tease Chanyeol to the edge of tears before adding even a second finger. Instead, he presses two, then three, inside, working them quickly in and out until he finds Chanyeol’s prostate, chuckling softly when Chanyeol jerks forward, bangs his knee on a table leg.

“You like that?” Kyungsoo breathes, printing the words onto Chanyeol’s skin with hot, wet breaths. Chanyeol would nod but he knows Kyungsoo probably wouldn’t see, so instead he lets all the air rush out of his lungs in a quick burst that turns into a moan halfway through. And then, before Chanyeol has time to breathe, before he has time to curse and beg and ask, Kyungsoo’s pressing inside of him. And Kyungsoo is hot and thick and fills Chanyeol so, so well. And Chanyeol’s wanted this since the first moment he saw Kyungsoo, sitting there in this too-dim room with the too-dark wood paneling, and he can’t stop himself from falling forward onto his elbows, gasping with pleasure.

Kyungsoo fucks the way he talks-a bit teasingly, a little reserved, like he wants to make sure Chanyeol feels good every time he thrusts forwards, but without apology. It’s glorious. Chanyeol’s eyes are squeezed shut, hips pushing back gently every time Kyungsoo jerks forward, fighting to drag Kyungsoo in deeper, keep his cock right where Chanyeol wants it. And he can hear the table beneath them squeaking in protest, can feel it shifting a few centimeters every time Kyungsoo fucks forward particularly hard, and it’s just so filthy. Chanyeol would feel a bit scandalized about this if it didn’t feel so damn good.

But as it is, Chanyeol pushes his sweat-slick bangs out of his eyes, lets air escape his lungs in little puffing grunts and sobs. And he can feel the moment Kyungsoo tenses-so quiet, always so quiet except for when he’s trying to rile Chanyeol up-can feel the warm rush inside of him when Kyungsoo comes, hips stuttering forwards a few more times before stopping. And it only takes a few strokes, focusing on the feel of Kyungsoo dragging hot and heavy inside of him, for Chanyeol to spurt across his own fingers, body quaking with release. He can hear come dripping onto the smooth floor. And when Kyungsoo pulls back, letting Chanyeol stand straight up, wincing at the pain in his back from the uncomfortable position, he sees that the table is covered in sweat. It’s going to be a pain to clean.

“Well,” Kyungsoo laughs breathlessly, collapsing into a nearby chair and wincing at the feel of the cold wood on his hot skin. “I’m glad you came back.”

“So am I,” Chanyeol replies, feeling another strange blush rising to his cheeks and hoping Kyungsoo thinks it’s just his reaction to being fucked over a table. His legs feel a little bit like jelly, so Chanyeol heaves himself up onto the sticky table and sits there, legs dangling like a kid, wondering what the hell he’s going to do next.

This would be so much easier if he couldn’t feel the melody that’s been haunting him for days finally starting to fall into place. This would be easier if he hadn’t just gotten three songs worth of lyrics out of Kyungsoo’s hiccupping gasps, the way his arms had felt around Chanyeol’s waist, the way he had fucked Chanyeol like he was precious, so precious that Kyungsoo wanted to ruin him. Chanyeol can already tell Kyungsoo likes seeing him blush.

“I’m not really a fan of having ‘the talk,’” Kyungsoo says matter-of-factly, starting to slowly pull his clothes back on. Chanyeol considers doing the same, but suddenly decides he’s not ready to end this moment of intimacy. This moment where Kyungsoo is clothed and Chanyeol is naked yet they’re both vulnerable, both unsure. Chanyeol wonders idly if this is how Sehun feels all the time with Junmyeon-this desire for trust, this need for affection, appreciation, understanding.

“So lets not,” he suggests, reaching out to drag Kyungsoo closer, plant a kiss on his lips without giving Kyungsoo the option of deepening it. It feels nice-Kyungsoo’s lips against his own. It feels like something Chanyeol could get used to doing, every morning, maybe.

“So, you study music?” Kyungsoo asks, voice only tightening a little when Chanyeol drags him even closer, wraps his bare legs around Kyungsoo’s waist. He asks like they’re in a coffee shop in the middle of the day, like they have all the time in the world to get to know each other.

“Yeah, I do,” Chanyeol whispers, grinning broadly as Kyungsoo lets his half-buttoned shirt fall from his shoulders. He could get used to this.

“What’s that like?” Kyungsoo asks, laughing this time as Chanyeol mouths over his hardening nipples, licks a stripe up his sternum.

“Wild,” Chanyeol smirks, laughing when Kyungsoo smacks him lightly on the arm.

“Sounds like it,” Kyungsoo says, reaching out to brush Chanyeol’s hair out of his eyes. It’s such an unexpectedly intimate gesture, makes Chanyeol’s chest suddenly feel a bit tight. “Do music majors even have homework?”

“Of course we do!” Chanyeol gasps in mock-disgust, grinning wider at the way he can feel Kyungsoo hardening again against his thigh. “In fact, I have a project that I should be working on right now. I have to write my own song.”

“Sounds fun,” Kyungsoo hums, leaning down to press kisses to Chanyeol’s chest, neck. “Well, you seem like the creative type. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“I’m sure I will,” Chanyeol murmurs, inhaling deeply, breathing in Kyungsoo and spices that smell like home and the promise of something new.

He’s definitely going to get an A on this project.

◄