Chapter Text
Chan wasn’t quite sure how he ended up with a god living in his apartment. He hadn’t prayed about anything, hadn’t left out any spell or amulets, hadn't even done much more than he normally did. However, what he did know was that this god was insufferable and impossible to get rid of.
He had shown up one day out of the blue, sitting on the balcony of the opposite side of Chan’s. Pointy feline ears decorated the top of the head, messy black hair framing his face prettily, and his eyes an odd golden color that had given away his divine nature immediately. Behind him, his tail had been waving from one side to the other, full of promises of mischief.
Chan had panicked when he saw him, knowing that nothing good ever stemmed from seeing a god out in the wild - the wild being a busy modern city. He hadn’t gotten much warning before the god had given him a dangerous smile as he tumbled in through the window, leaving shards of glass all over the place.
He had walked over to Chan, clapped his cheek, and asked where the kitchen was with a smirk that made Chan’s stomach swoop. Stunned, Chan had pointed in the direction and gawked at the god as he smiled and made his way to the kitchen, completely ignoring Chan and the mess he had made of his living room.
For 4 long, tortuous months where Chan’s poor heart was pressed to the limit, Minho had lived in Chan’s apartment and he didn’t know how to kick out the god let alone decide if he wanted to kick him out.
“Channie, it’s dinner time,” Minho drawled, crouching down on Chan’s coffee table and covering the television screen from view. “I’m hungry. You should feed me,” he added, blinking at Chan, irises still as gold as they had been when Chan had first seen him. His long black tail flickering impatiently behind him. “It’s animal cruelty not to feed me when I’m hungry.”
“You’re not an animal,” Chan said, leaning to the left so he could continue to watch his show, but Minho’s black tail just waved to the side, drawing an invisible S in the air. “You’ve said it yourself. Even told me you would skin me alive if I called you an animal.”
“I told you not to call me a pet,” Minho corrected, following Chan’s head when he leaned to the right, staring right at him, unblinkingly. It was unnerving and distracting because Minho really had pretty eyes. “I could be an animal for you,” he purred, gesturing to his already flimsy outfit that barely kept his very attractive and lithe body covered - which was almost more distracting than his eyes. “I know you like what you see, and if you feed me you’ll get another taste of me.”
Chan ignored how hot his cheeks suddenly felt, the memory of Minho’s soft and addictive lips brushing over his rushing to the forefront of his memory after having tried to ignore it for days.
“Hmm, I know that look, Channie,” Minho said, blinking lazily at him as he lay down on the table, spreading his body out for Chan to admire, his ears flickering on top of his head, the sound of metal clinging together riding through the room.
The piercings in the ears were made from a pair of Chan’s that Minho had stolen a week after breaking into his house.
The ones he had been wearing before had been decorating Chan’s human ears ever since. Minho had insisted on swapping. Chan hadn’t managed to say no before the god's hands were unclasping his earrings, his face close enough for Chan to count his eyelashes.
“What look?” Chan asked, throat dry. Minho’s outfit barely covered his thighs and with how he was lying on the table, it had ridden up, sitting precariously at the top of his narrow hips.
“You want another taste,” Minho continued, touching his lip with a clawed finger which made Chan’s mind think of things he really shouldn't be thinking right in front of a god who could make his life even more miserable with a snap of their fingers. “And I’ll give it to you. But, first - I want to eat dinner.”
“You know where the kitchen is,” Chan said, trying to look away from Minho before he gave in. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t give in to Minho again even though he knew any fight against the god would be futile.
Chan had been Minho’s the moment he had woken up with him splayed all over him, purring into Chan’s ear.
“Hmm, maybe,” Minho said, his patience clearly getting closer and closer to having run dry. He never quite liked Chan’s attempts at independence. “But I want you to make me food,” he added with a frown, tail twitching annoyed.
“Make it yourself,” Chan said, leaning back on the couch. He turned off the television and closed his eyes, hoping Minho understood that there was no help from Chan today. If he wanted food, then he had a pair of hands he could make something for himself with - he might be a cat god, but he wasn’t an actual cat.
Being a god had given him opposable thumbs and Chan was simply encouraging him to use them.
“Humpf,” Minho huffed and swatted Chan’s leg, leaving behind the tiniest prick of his claws before he got off the table and seemingly left.
The sound of his bare feet trotting over the hardwood flooring sounded like sweet music to Chan’s ears.
Chan kept his eyes closed, willing himself not to open his eyes and stare at Minho’s ass as he walked away, the small black embroidered shorts he always wore showing off far too much for what Chan’s mortal body could handle.
He couldn’t believe he had won over Minho. For once, he was the one walking away from confrontation and not Chan bending before him.
Chan smiled to himself, feeling a bit proud. Who knew? Maybe he would manage to make Minho move out one way or another - at least for an hour or two per week until he and Chan could figure out something more permanent for him.
Maybe the local shrine would be willing to take him in and -
The sound of glass scraping against wood made Chan’s eyes shoot open, finding Minho looking at him from the other end of the living room. He was leaning up against the wall, standing a bit too close to a vase on the bookshelf for Chan’s comfort. The vase had clearly been moved from where it had originally been standing.
“Minho,” Chan warned, debating with himself whether or not he should get up on his feet and remove the vase before Minho broke it, but he was trying to prove to the god that he did have a spine and wouldn’t bend to his every beck and call.
Chan wasn’t a servant. This was his home first!
“Channie,” Minho said, tilting his head to the side innocently, smiling lovingly at him. Chan shuddered at that innocent look, fear filling him as he watched Minho’s tail flick from one side to another and back again in a firm rhythm. “Changed your mind? Are you gonna make dinner for me now?” He asked, smiling so innocently Chan’s stomach twisted.
“Don’t push it,” Chan said, hoping he sounded as imposing as he could.
“Push what?” Minho asked innocently, his small adorable fingers inching closer and closer to the vase on the bookshelf, the tip of his claw touching the porcelain. “I’m not pushing anything,” he added, sneaking his hand behind the vase. “Dinner?”
“Make it yourself,” Chan repeated sternly, his voice trembling slightly when Minho gave the vase a warning nudge.
Chan hoped Minho wasn’t able to hear how his heart skipped a beat, but going by how his sweet smile turned sly, he failed.
“Dinner?” Minho requested one last time and when Chan shook his head, the vase went flying, scattering over the floor before Chan even had time to tell him off.
Chan shot up from the couch, staring in exasperation at the shattered porcelain covering his floor - it wasn’t the first time that the vase had been broken due to Minho - and looked back up at the cat god who was smiling victoriously.
“Dinner?” Minho asked happily, his tail swaying back and forth in delight at having gotten Chan out of his seat. “I’ll fix it if you make me dinner.”
Chan weighed his options.
“Don’t knock it over for a month and I’ll make something for you,” Chan offered, knowing a month was a bit too much to ask for. Minho was a hard negotiator after all.
“I’ll try to contain myself for a week, but only a week,” Minho offered and Chan nodded in agreement, letting Minho think he had won but secretly Chan rejoined - A week was more than the three days he had secured that last time he had bargained with Minho. A victory was a victory.
“What do you want to eat?” Chan asked, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when Minho jumped into action, smiling happily as he skipped over to Chan and wrapped his arms around Chan’s shoulder, pressing his barely dressed hot boody close to Chan, enveloping him in the soft warm scent that was so undeniably Minho… with an odd hint of tuna.
The touch startled Chan since Minho usually wasn’t the one to initiate intimacy unless Chan was sleeping. For some reason, Minho seemed to want Chan all over him, but only when the human was asleep, busy, or looking at someone else for too long.
Chan had given up on most sports because Minho did not like Chan watching sweaty lightly dressed men and Chan now couldn't watch football without getting a little excited because his body expected Minho to drop in his lap and distract him thoroughly.
It was slightly awkward when he tried to catch a game the rare times he escaped to Changbin’s place to watch an important match.
Especially since Minho seemed to always know if Chan had seen sport without him, making Chan’s life hell for a whole day afterward by, well, lying around naked and hissing if Chan came too close and yelling if Chan strayed too much.
It was really just easier not to.
“Your attention,” Minho purred, running his hands up and down Chan’s arms, feeling him up and nuzzling his face into the junction of Chan’s neck which made Chan lose all of his thoughts.
“I wanna eat your attention. Give me attention, Channie,” he added, claws biting dangerously at Chan’s sleeveless tee.
It would sadly not be the first Minho had torn to pieces in his need to get closer to Chan.
“You can’t eat attention for dinner,” Chan sighed and shook his head, tentatively leaning into Minho’s embrace. He hoped the deity didn’t pay attention to it, but going by how the purring got louder he most definitely had.
Chan was at his core a weak man, but mostly only for Minho.
“I most certainly can,” Minho answered, his lips brushing against Chan’s ear as he spoke. “I’ll be so full and never get hungry again if I get all of your attention,” he added, voice soft and seductive and Chan hated himself a little as he felt his body follow along with Minho.
“I highly doubt that,” Chan said, his eyes falling shut. There wasn’t a place better on earth than Minho’s arms and it was too unfair that Minho so rarely wrapped Chan up in his divine embrace.
Normally Minho was the one who expected to be cuddled and worshiped among other things.
“I think we should test it out,” Minho insisted, his hands slowly making their way around his middle until they were splayed out on his stomach, pressing Chan further into Minho, making Chan feel all of Minho pressed against him. “I think we could learn something highly… scientific if we tested it out.”
“What kind of science could that possibly be?” Chan asked in disbelief, shivering when Minho’s hands moved in under his top, his fingertips brushing against the soft skin of his stomach, claws dancing tantalizing over Chan’s skin.
He truly was fucked… or was about to be at least.
“Guess we’ll find out,” Minho purred into Chan’s ear, biting his earlobe. “After some very, very, serious, hard, and extended research. I am nothing, if not throughout, Chan,” he added and Chan swallowed, remembering why he didn’t mind Minho living with him too much.
“As you command,” Chan relented and allowed himself to be pushed out of the living room and into the bedroom Minho had made into his own little temple.