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Felix is very relaxed about his sexuality, about his partners and how many there have been, about his body and how comfortable he feels in it. He’s relaxed about his boundaries with his friends—they stand solid once erected, but can be repositioned in order to suit everyone best. He doesn’t worry about working in the service industry or stress about his career. He’s confident in his own gender expression and loose with society’s definitions of feminine and masculine appearance, flitting between the two and occasionally settling into the blurry space in between, making himself at home there.
He’s so lovely, so adaptable, so in tune with himself, that it shows in everything he does.
Chan, on the other hand, isn’t relaxed about anything.
*
They discover Felix’s superpower inadvertently, during horror-movie night with the gang. Chan hosts it every Thursday because he has the biggest, nicest apartment and the biggest, nicest television, but he only has one couch and two bean bags, so the five people who end up crammed on the couch always cram even closer as the movie goes on. Tonight, Changbin cradles both Jisung and Hyunjin’s heads into his chest (Chan suspects ulterior motives on their end, but says nothing) and Felix ends up in Chan’s lap. Seungmin and Minho pretend not to share the slightly larger beanbag while Jeongin sprawls on one of his own, forever the spoiled youngest kid when it suits him.
Felix shifts after the first jump-scare, immediately scrambling for the safety of Chan’s arms, sitting in the cradle of his thighs and leaning his back to Chan’s front, wriggling into place in a way that makes Chan’s stomach cramp.
Bizarrely, what happens next is that Chan, who is a horrendous scaredy cat and also is so attracted to Felix that he’s half-hard almost immediately... somehow falls asleep fifteen minutes later.
It’s confusing to everyone, himself included. He wakes up to the movie being over, the lights going back on, Felix still sitting on him, and drool trailing down his chin. He’s still half-hard, but Felix doesn’t say anything about it so he’s not about to be the one who points it out.
“Isn’t insomnia, like… your thing?” Jeongin asks suspiciously. Like he’s rethinking his and Chan’s years-long friendship and wondering whether Chan has been painting on the dark circles under his eyes to put up some sort of front.
It’s not until everyone has left and only Felix lingers, that he asks: “Was it me?”
Chan stills on his way to show him the door. Felix had stayed behind to make himself a cup of hot tea, claiming his stomach was a little upset, and Chan had been all too happy to oblige, but that was drunk in comfy silence.
Now, Felix brings it up.
“Uh.”
He knows it was him, is the thing. Felix’s presence has always felt soothing to Chan, as though proximity to such ease and comfort has the osmotic power to dilute Chan’s high-strung tendencies. Plus his smell has always made Chan a bit dumb-drunk. They napped together once, about a year ago during a group camping trip, and Chan went under so deep that he stumbled and fell when he tried to get up and walk after, and sustained what is now a tiny, whitish scar in the palm of his right hand from a rock on the ground.
“I… think so.”
Felix doesn’t look particularly bothered or tense, just gently curious, with a small smile on his face. The smile gets bigger at Chan’s admission, actually. “Aw. Well, if you need me again, let me know!”
He makes a tiny finger-gun at him and leaves, and Chan is left behind to ponder what the offer entails.
*
After that night, Felix keeps sitting on Chan’s lap.
He does it in cafes, in bars, at the other’s apartments and, once, on the subway. It might have become a chronic pattern if it weren’t for the fact that Chan keeps getting hard under him, and Chan’s not… subtle. Not the kind of size someone can choose not to notice when he's pressed up against them.
So they are forced to address it within a couple of weeks.
After another movie night (and another profound, disorienting two-hour nap) Felix lingers again, and this time Chan is expecting the confrontation, and the question.
Thing is, Felix is so calm and mellow, that when he asks: “Would you want to do this, just us?” it doesn’t sound like a friendship-ending, Earth-shattering proposition. It sounds sweetly curious, and Chan is almost… lulled into a false sense of ease.
Not that he can blame any of what happens next on Felix, at all.
“I game with Seungmin and some of our online friends a bunch of times a week, and it goes pretty late into the night, usually. It involves hours of sitting on the chair in my room... I wouldn’t mind you there. It’s audio only.” He shrugs. “If the occasional curse-word doesn’t bother you, it might be nice? To help you fall asleep?”
Chan swallows. “You’d really do that?”
Felix’s smile is so relaxed. “Of course! I could warm you too, if you want. To be honest I’ve always wanted to try that, but never had anyone to do it with.”
Felix has a horde of fanboys and fangirls ready to sell their souls to the devil to do anything he wants, and is the sole reason the fancy restaurant with mediocre food he works at remains in business, Chan is pretty sure.
But Chan got caught on something else he said.
“Warm... me?”
Felix’s smile becomes a grin, and he blushes a little, but it’s still this carefree, adorable thing. Like he has no worries in the world. “Yeah! What’s some cockwarming between friends? I mean, I noticed you get a bit hard sometimes, so if you wanted, you could just…” he makes a crude hand-gesture that somehow turns out cute because of his stubby little fingers. “I use a plug sometimes when I game, to like, make me focus? I like that full feeling, and that way I can’t, like, relax too much and lose concentration.”
Chan’s brain starts to sound like a kettle boiling around then, but Felix keeps talking.
“I asked Changbin once but he got bored after half an hour, hah, I mean it’s not the same as fucking, I get that, but you could relax, maybe, or sleep, if you wanted, and I’d just…”
At that point Chan stops being able to hear what he is saying at all, the noise so loud in his eardrums that it hurts (Changbin and Felix?). All he knows is that he agrees to try it, and Felix pats his chest before leaving again, unaware of the brain damage he caused with his earnest, friendly suggestion.
*
Chan should, of course, be going to intensive therapy and seeing a sleep-doctor instead of agreeing to Felix’s proposal, but he finds himself walking into Felix’s little apartment two days after their conversation and letting his friend guide him to sit on his gaming chair.
It’s a nice chair; black with teal blue accents, well-cushioned, the back just tall enough that Chan’s neck rests on the headrest but he can lean on it. It takes their combined weights without protest.
He’s half-hard by the time Felix starts to demonstrate how he’d sit on him and game at the same time, loose smile, loose black hair around his ears, low lighting that slowly shifts between neon colors from the console. He’s almost fully hard by the time Felix says: “Do you wanna try it? Being inside me?”
Chan is, at the end of the day, a man.
And he’s had a long fucking day.
“Y-yeah. If you’re really… if it’s really… no big deal.”
Felix wriggles his eyebrows, then turns and pulls his shorts down to his ankles, startlingly revealing his cute bare ass. He looks at Chan over his shoulder. “Hoping it’s at least a medium-sized deal, Channie, given what I’ve been feeling.”
Chan bursts into a fit of giggles, blushing furiously, and he’s still laughing when Felix hands him a condom and a bottle of lube and motions to the front of his pants, where his zipper is still done up. His shoulders quiver with the fading panicky outburst when he takes himself out and rolls on the condom, so hard it’s hurting a little. Felix makes an appreciative noise looking back at him (Chan twitches as a result, blushing even harder) and then turns to face forward again fully.
“I already prepped,” Felix says, arching his back.
Chan lubes himself up feeling like he’s in a dream, and then carefully guides Felix down to sink onto him.
His jaw drops open when the head slides in, tight heat welcoming him there. So tight. So hot. Oh fuck what happens if he comes?
“Okay?” he rasps, and Felix makes a happy assertive sound and sinks down further.
It’s good—better—best, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, pretty Felix who is so generous, so happy to share this part of himself with his hyung if it’ll help him, and Chan almost puts his hands on the wings of Felix’s narrow hipbones but then he remembers himself. He grips the armrests of the wide chair instead, and when that does shit-all to help him not try to fuck up into Felix he rests his hands by his sides, holding the seat of the chair instead.
Felix sits all the way down on him with a slow, inexorable move, and lets out the smallest of little sighs once they are flush together.
“Big,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and Chan nearly loses it right then.
He doesn’t though, clinging to control with everything he has. "Hm," he responds, noncommittal.
“Is this okay?” Felix asks him, half-turning again to look. His voice is extra cavernous and deep right now, and Chan knows it can’t be true but he’d swear the vibrations of it reverberate around his dick where it’s buried to the hilt. “Channie-hyung? How does it feel?”
He nods, no words he can safely filter. He’s barely keeping his eyes open from the pleasure of it, and that’s all he can manage right now.
“Great. I’m good, so I’m going to start the game if that’s okay?”
He makes an affirmative noise that is an answer to Felix’s question mostly by coincidence, nodding again.
“Awesome, let me know if you need anything.”
Felix leans slightly forward, so there’s a lot of space between Chan’s face and the back of his neck, and his smell is fainter.
He notes this with a twinge of regret he refuses to examine, and that’s how it begins.
*
At twenty-seven, Chan is only three years older than Felix, but he feels like a geriatric boomer when it comes to their stances on sex and relationships. Felix is so free, so giving, and so unencumbered by romantic feelings that he doesn’t seem to harbor them for anyone. He dates here and there, citing the desire for a romantic partner, but they never seem to progress past the first. He lets the rich patrons who come to the restaurant pay for things for him once in a while but he never gets involved with them, at most allows them to take a picture of his lips or his foot in exchange. He has casual physical relationships with multiple people (even among the friend group; Chan knows him and Hyunjin used to sleep together a couple of years back, he still makes out with Jisung sometimes when they go out, and apparently he sat on Changbin that one time) and is able to keep those separate from his heart.
Chan is not able to do that.
He tried to be friends with benefits with his classmate during his senior year of university and it ended in unmitigated disaster, and he knows himself well enough to know that he equates sex with romance to a degree that blurs the line between the two. He’s not cool, like his friends and their ability to compartmentalize that stuff so healthily. He admires it about Felix a lot, but he doesn’t share that skill. At all.
Perhaps this reflection would have been helpful to make before him and Felix entered this bizarre new stage in their relationship, but Chan makes a truly gymnastic leap in order to not equate what him and Felix are doing to sex, and manages to cling to that stance with all his might.
He tells himself that if neither of them comes, it’s not sex.
Felix offered, towards the end of the first day; careless and chill Felix had said he wouldn’t mind (direct quote, Chan remembers with a jaw clench: “You wanna come? I wouldn’t mind”), but that is the line of demarcation in Chan’s mind. He had politely declined, so Felix had stood up on slightly shaky legs, and Chan had helped steady him, and they said good night to each other and Chan left. He managed not to come the entire time.
He tells himself that no orgasms means no sex, so it’s fine. They are fine.
And that’s how it is for quite some time.
*
It becomes a weekly occurrence. Then, pretty soon, a multiple-times-weekly occurrence.
Felix keeps shrugging and saying he’s happy to do it, and looking it, too, so Chan believes him and keeps giving in to his own desires. He is always predisposed to stress and anxiety, but the current album production he is working on has him more stressed and more anxious even than usual, and the incentive of being with Felix starts to become the only thing that gets him out of the studio, and certainly the only way for him to let some of that anxiety go.
The routine is: Chan arrives, Felix is already prepped, and there is no other contact between them other than Chan sitting on the squishy gaming chair and Felix sitting on Chan.
Felix is usually a bit distracted already, powering up his set-up at the same time and hooking up his mic, and then when his game starts he seems to become truly engrossed in it, barely a flinch or shiver if Chan moves inside him because his focus is elsewhere. Felix has never been the strongest gamer (even within their friend group) but Chan’s presence does not seem to have caused a significant deterioration to his abilities, such as they are. Plus he's into gaming because he likes it, despite his questionable skills.
He does mute himself and joke about it a couple of times, while Chan is sitting under him with unfocused eyes, fluttering lashes and stilled hips. Felix says: “I could’ve made that jump if you weren’t so big, you know.”
Chan, whose powers of speech when they do this become severely lacking in coherence, goes: “Bwuh?”
“You’re, like, right up against my prostate, hyung.” Felix twists his torso around to playfully shove Chan’s shoulder. “Tch. Blaming that one on you.” He turns back around, restarting his run with a low laugh. “Wish I could tell the others.”
Chan’s eyebrows scrunch in concern, managing to bring himself back at the thought of causing Felix any discomfort. He frowns at the back of Felix’s head, sees on the monitor that he’s still muted. “Are you okay? A-are you uncomfortable? I can pull o—"
“No!” Felix says right away, reaching back blindly to pat at Chan’s chest, then up to his face without looking. “I was kidding, Channie, it feels really nice. I think I’m even playing better than usual.”
“Are you su—"
“So sure! So sure, it’s great, feels so good, please don’t pull out please.”
So Chan doesn’t, and Felix keeps playing, and after several long minutes of trying not to squirm Chan manages to slow his heart-rate down enough to sink back into his half-asleep, lash-fluttering trance.
*
At the beginning, it would take Chan several minutes of feeling keyed up and trigger-happy, twitching from sensitivity, to fully relax into the feeling of being inside Felix, but after a few times the process gets easier. He thaws out faster, manages to prevent his hips from churning sooner—even stopping the subconscious, smaller movements that are so infinitesimal that Felix can’t feel them. He starts to train himself to become utterly still within seconds, breathing deeply and focusing on himself, on his body and on not coming because he can’t do that or this is all over.
It’s usually after that stillness has been achieved, that Chan sprawls back on the chair and rests his head there, face up to the ceiling and eyes unseeing, boneless.
He manages to relax.
The warmth of Felix’s body, the clutch of him, the comfort of him, draws all the stress and strain from Chan’s mind and vanishes them for as long as he’s inside of him. Chan has tried meditation before, and maybe ‘meditative’ is a possible descriptor for this state: he melts into the chair cushions while his dick is sheathed inside Felix, and he thinks of nothing but the warmth. Hours can pass like that, in a blur of heat and pleasure, and he can’t hold on to his concerns, his anxieties. He feels too good for those; something inside of him simply lets them go, every time.
Felix calls it ‘mindfulness’, but Chan reads up on that and it sounds much healthier than whatever it is that they are doing. Still, he is pathetically grateful, so he’ll call it whatever Felix wants.
*
The day that marks one month since they started, Chan finds himself back on the chair with Felix’s ass flush to his groin, giggling quietly at some nonsensical insult Felix just flung at the opposing team, and realizes that he never wants to stop doing this. Ever.
They haven’t discussed when it will end or how, but Chan has become seriously, actually dependent on the unconventional combination of anxiolytic and soporific effects that the sessions provide him. Whatever meagre sleep he is scraping by on is only happening thanks to Felix these days, small dips into unconsciousness during the actual gaming sessions and then when he goes home around two or three in the morning, stunned stupid and hard for the entire nighttime taxi ride, he is somehow able to knock out for a few more hours when he falls into his bed.
Yes, he often wakes up humping his mattress or even, shamefully, having come on himself in his sleep, but holding off on masturbating is part of the mental acrobatics that allow for the arrangement to continue. And he wants it to continue for ever.
He never used to get insight into this side of Felix who is so adorable, so team-focused, so bad at trash-talk, and so, so, so pretty from behind. He doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose any of this.
“Channie? Everything okay?” Felix asks. “I’m about to start the next play, okay?”
“Mh. Y-yeah, you... go ahead. Do your thing.”
He wants to be inside Felix for the rest of his life, and he’s not sure what that means, but he’d settle for starting with just the rest of the night.
He always leaves when Felix’s game ends, helping him stand up every time, but he wishes he could stay here after and just become the chair, be Felix’s seat for everything and forever. Or move this to the bed and sleep inside him all night.
He cringes at himself when the thought comes, which makes him move slightly, but he’s always restless towards the beginning of their evenings, so Felix doesn’t notice anything else being amiss.
This particular game seems fraught with excitement from the get-go; Felix is soon moving animatedly on top of him, leaning forward, leaning back, triumphantly (and then frustratedly) hitting frantic buttons on his controller. He calls someone a ‘teapot’ and Chan giggles softly again, then has to clamp his lips together when Felix inadvertently clenches around him in order to not let out a guttural groan. Felix being endearingly silly followed immediately by Felix being the hottest person Chan has ever been inside of is... a lot to deal with, fuck.
There’s a moment, a few minutes later, where Felix’s headset almost dislodges from the force of his vehement nodding in agreement with a teammate, and he twists and ducks to catch it in a way that actually makes Chan whimper, dick hardening impossibly further inside of him like it’s trying to touch the deepest part of him and nestle there. Thankfully, the noise gets lost in the garbled audio through Felix’s headphones, but it’s a close call, and Chan resolves to focus on his own body and the tension he is still carrying, because he can't be getting... enamored with Felix while his body thinks it's fucking into Felix, he has to re-center. This is about calm. Stress-relief. Mindfulness, or if not that, then some fucked-up version of something close to it.
It takes time, but he does begin to relax more fully despite Felix’s continued agitation.
Eventually, Chan finds himself slumping in the chair and his head lolls to the side, chin bobbing down to his own chest but too weak to bring it back up. He breathes deeply like that, Felix laughing and gasping above him, so happy even as he’s impaled on Chan’s cock, and Chan fills the condom steadily with precome but doesn’t make any more inappropriate noises.
It's only hours later, when Felix pulls off him with a kittenish mewl, that Chan blinks himself blearily awake and remembers, again, that this has a deadline, even if he doesn’t know what it is yet. All good things end.
What is he going to do when it ends?
*
He starts to ask for it practically every night.
Felix just smiles and agrees, welcoming him into his apartment with a smile and welcoming him inside his tight, wet heat with a soft sigh. His work has him on lunch service for the winter, so he’s free most nights, and apparently games even more than Chan thought he did. Thursday evenings are still reserved for horror-movie night with the rest of the kids, but pretty much every day other than that one Chan is, shamefully, texting him to come over and Felix is, amazingly, up for it.
One such evening Chan is greeted by Felix in a skirt; a dark blue pleated number down to his mid-thigh that swishes when Felix walks Chan to his room.
He's wearing it under an oversized Nine Inch Nails sweater.
“Easier, yeah?” Felix says with a little catch in his breath as they both bunch up the material for Chan to get to his hole, and Chan nods yes, because Felix is a genius, he’s so brilliant. He fights his groan when he first breaches him, always the hardest part, the part where he has to rely on Felix not paying attention in order to school his features and try to steady his breathing. He doesn’t look down to see the fan of the skirt covering both their laps, for fear of working himself up too much to bring himself to heel.
Felix never moans or suggests either of them climax again after he did that first time, and Chan declined. If it weren’t for all the ways in which it’s not, one would think they are meeting up to hug Chan’s stresses away.
He never checks to see if Felix gets hard during their sessions, either.
Sure, he wonders, but he can’t see and he hasn’t allowed himself to touch and feel, so he has no idea. Felix is so aloof about the whole thing maybe it is the equivalent of a prolonged hug, to him. The skirt, much as the baggy sweatpants, reveals nothing from Chan’s angle.
*
After that night, Felix never wears pants again, and Chan starts to seriously worry for his own sanity.
*
Changbin comments on his looking “slightly less terrible” a couple of times as the weeks go by, and Jisung asks if he finally started doing basic skincare.
Chan looks at himself in the mirror midway through month two and can’t pinpoint any objective improvement, but he feels better, even if he doesn’t look it. The memory of Felix's hair in spacebuns the other night makes him smile at himself, dopey and big and stupid, and the jittery anticipation of seeing him again today makes him grab his phone right then. He texts Felix to ask if he can come over, never wanting to presume, and Felix responds right away that he… can’t.
plans tn hyung
so sorry
tomorrow?
ah
but
tomorrow is thurs
movie night
after movie night?
*
After a literal sleepless night in his own apartment, Chan spends the day cooking and making snacks for horror-movie night. Winter means darkness is coming earlier and earlier, and he starts to get a little anticipatory curl of fear and nervousness in his stomach around sunset, hoping Felix will end up in his lap again, an addict who skipped a fix.
Whether that nervousness is what ends up nudging him to take out the six-pack Changbin brought to his apartment last week, Chan couldn’t say, but he ends up sipping on a beer or three throughout the afternoon, taking that instead of water to hydrate himself while he cooks. It’s probably a desperate attempt at relaxation that pales in comparison to his nights with Felix, but it’s a partial success; the insomnia and the alcohol combine to put him in a clumsy, giggly mood that is immediately pointed out by his first guest’s arrival, Minho, who gets him a glass of water right away and takes over the final stages of the cooking.
He greets Felix with the same degree of enthusiasm as he does everyone else, pointing out his pretty black skirt and complimenting him as effusively as he might have ordinarily, as if he doesn’t associate Felix in skirts with Felix’s gaming set-up now, with his chair, and with his hole clenching snugly around Chan’s dick. Felix has legwarmers on and was in earmuffs, which does put to question how cold he felt with the skirt on, but he looks so pretty that Chan forgets to ask.
He also doesn’t ask what Felix was doing the night before when he turned Chan down for the first time, but overhears him telling Hyunjin it was ‘a date that went nowhere’ with a shrug. “Waste of time, honestly,” Felix adds with a baby-frown, the closest he can come to a negative feeling, and Chan smiles into his fourth beer and reminds himself to quit drinking after he finishes this one, for sure, because he’s having stupid thoughts.
A couple of glasses of soju later and a ‘Chan-hyung alcohol ban’ instituted by Minho, the kids inhale their dinner with multiple compliments to Chan, which doesn’t help his giggling or his blushing at all. His friends are all so nice to him, and he loves them all so much, and he's so grateful to cook for them, and soon, Felix will be in his lap. What more could he ask for?
Eventually, everyone settles into their usual spots in front of the television. Seungmin makes some quip about his snoring because Chan has yet to sit through one of these movies without knocking out when Felix sits on him lately (and Felix sits on him every time, now) and Chan promises to try and stay awake.
He turns off the lights on voice command after two attempts because he’s slurring a little, and the movie starts.
Felix slides into his lap by minute two.
Chan is hard by minute two and ten seconds.
Felix’s positioning is a bit different tonight, however—instead of sitting back-to-front and putting his skinnier, narrower legs between Chan’s, he sits on him sideways and rests his head on Chan’s upper chest, curled up in a swirl with his little feet tucked between the couch cushions. His ass is still resting fully over Chan’s erection, though, and when he wriggles in fear or gasps and jolts, Chan feels it.
Oh, he feels it.
He drapes the thickest blanket over them just as Hyunjin ups the volume and grabs the second-thickest one, nestling into Changbin’s pecs with definite intent because Jisung has joined Minho and Seungmin on the slightly larger beanbag, though it was not designed for three people. Not that Chan is in a place to judge any of his friends, as he feels himself leak into his underwear and twitch and flex up into the warm cradle of Felix’s ass. His body is expecting what normally happens next, except it’s not going to happen, so he needs to—
Felix sighs softly, rocking down onto him, and Chan rocks his hips up to meet him, once, before stilling.
It was enough to give away what he was thinking, and wanting (maybe needing, but he'll blame the alcohol for that dramatic word-choice).
“D'you wanna?” Felix whispers in his ear, swiveling his hips again.
Heat blooms in Chan’s face, his ears burning. He wants to nod, but he needs to shake his head.
He nods. He shakes his head. He feels dizzy, but he has never wanted anything more. He waits a few seconds, then hangs his head forward in shame, unable to decide. He wishes Felix would, for both of them.
Felix has gone still, and he leans so far into his ear again that his lips brush the lobe. “I meant," he breathes. "Do you wanna watch the movie inside me? S’okay if not.”
Chan nods. Nods again. Turns his head to Felix and whispers, tongue clumsy: “Yeah. Fuck, please... please?” Their foreheads almost knock together, he's so eager.
“Yeah?” Felix does something complicated that feels like he undulates right over Chan’s rock-hard dick, and then his hand is worming between them under the blanket and taking him out.
A jump-scare that the director must have timed perfectly with Chan’s libido makes the others cry out in that moment, and Chan’s hiss goes unnoticed by everyone except Felix, who shifts in Chan’s lap and sits himself on his dick with an expert cant of his hips.
He had no underwear on under his skirt.
He must have prepped before coming, because after a brief moment of dry resistance (there’s no condom he’s in bare he’s inside of Felix raw) he breaches him and fits all the way inside, settling into the space he considers, stupidly, drunkenly, to be his.
Felix’s eyebrows tilt in and his lips part in that little sigh he does; this is the first time Chan is seeing his face properly in the moment when it happens, even if ‘properly’ means in a pitch-black room with the light of the television as the only intermittent source. He tries to take it all in anyway; the wet gleam of Felix's tongue in his open mouth, the pinched, almost searching expression on his face as Chan fills him. His eyes stay closed. He might be blushing, though it’s hard to tell, but he did drink a beer and take a few shots during the dinner.
The drag of skin on skin makes Chan thankful that he drank so much, because he’s not sure he wouldn’t have come right away otherwise. He’s not going to watch the movie while he's inside Felix because he can’t see anything two feet away from his face, he’s so hard, feeling his pulse in his dick in a thump-thump-thump and wanting, more than anything, to churn his hips.
He draws on his weeks of practice to keep himself still, gritting his teeth against the urge. Felix also seems to be mindful of moving too much lest disaster give them away, but after they've both resettled and stilled again his forehead clears and he looks… happy. Content, in Chan’s lap, like he found a little peace of his own there, too.
It is insane, that they are doing this, but it also doesn’t feel real. Chan wraps his arms around Felix’s waist and Felix has both his hands on his own lap over the blanket, which envelops them both up to mid-chest, and it probably doesn’t look any more incriminating than it did earlier before they repositioned. Maybe. Chan is too dizzy to think straight. He’s too happy. He feels too good. He wants to fuck Felix until Felix can’t talk, only whimper. He wants it to be brutal; he wants it to be soft. He wants it to be perfect, like Felix is.
This time, it’s both of them who fall asleep.
*
When Chan wakes up, the others have left and him and Felix are in the exact same spot on the couch, with the large blanket in the exact same distribution.
Felix is snoring quietly in his arms, and Chan doesn’t want to wake him but he desperately has to pee. Is worried that if he relaxes too much he’s going to have an accident.
“Lixie,” he murmurs. His dick went soft inside of Felix, but that’s going to change soon if he doesn’t pull out. He really, really needs to pee. Now. “Lixie, baby.”
Felix blinks his eyes open, and smiles beautifully. “Hi.”
Chan findings himself smiling down at him. “Hi.” He’s already filling with blood, pulse thumping, but he needs to go. “I’m gonna pull out, ‘kay?”
Felix’s smile drops, and he frowns. More than he had earlier, when talking about his date. “Why? I don’t mind staying like—”
“Bathroom,” Chan interrupts, apologetic. He shifts his grip to Felix’s hips and starts to lift him, unable to wait much longer, and Felix hiccups in protest but lets himself be moved, and then Chan stumbles away to relieve himself.
When he comes back, Felix is on top of the blanket, pretty skirt arranged neatly again, big hoodie covering most of it.
“I should go home?” he asks.
He sounds… hesitant. It’s strange, to hear any hints of unsurety from him, but Chan is still groggy and probably still a bit drunk, so he just nods and calls Felix’s rideshare for him, shutting down any protests immediately. Felix has to be up early for work, and much as Chan fantasizes about them doing this in bed all night, that is not the agreement.
Their ill-advised mid-movie decisions can be chalked up to the alcohol, after all.
*
They don’t discuss it, other than to send each other recent test results and agree to get tested again, but everything changes just four days later anyway.
*
The day things change irrevocably, Chan is angry.
It takes a lot to anger him—he deals with stress and insomnia daily, yes, but for an annoyance to bloom into full fury is rare.
He works hard and thinks himself a good collaborator, a patient person, but after thirteen incredibly frustrating hours at the studio trying to understand what is being asked of him by a much more famous, much more influential producer who is impossible to work with all he wants is to punch a wall. That, or to bury himself in Felix and not think of anything for the rest of the evening, and he knows which option will feel better.
He practically barges into the apartment (Felix gave him his door code weeks ago), and stalks towards Felix’s room like a man on a mission. He had texted to give Felix a heads up and ask if he could come over, and Felix had readily invited him, so it’s not like his presence will be a surprise.
Still, he can tell Felix is distracted; Chan is late so he started gaming without him, and he’s in the middle of what sounds like a heated battle happening at eleven at night on a Monday.
He’s also wearing a new knee-length white skirt and a blue-and-white baseball sweater, looking so cute that Chan’s heart flutters.
He smiles at Chan when he spots him and then frowns in concern when he spots the look on Chan’s face, but Chan doesn’t want to interrupt him and he doesn’t really want to talk—he makes a gesture for Felix to focus on the game and keep talking to his team, and then he quickly starts undoing his belt.
Felix stands up, saying something about how he’s going to run defense, and Chan finally rips his zipper open. He's rock-hard, fingers fumbling with almost clumsy urgency now that he’s about to get what he needs, it’s so close. His eyes are zeroed in on the small swell of Felix’ ass, and he shoves his pants and underwear down impatiently and sits on the chair, precome dribbling at the feeling of the welcoming plush cushions, because he knows what’s coming. He tugs the condom on, because they never discussed that changing, and waits.
Felix either doesn’t hear him do it or is too intent on his game, so Chan finds himself reaching for his waist with both hands and guiding him backwards on top of him.
Felix lands in his lap with a huff and a small grunt, but he turns to smile reassuringly at Chan over his shoulder to show he’s not upset. Chan is about to ask for permission, squirming with desperation, but Felix anticipates him, sweetly mouthing: “I’m ready,” with a thumbs up, and he arches his back a little, pushing himself against Chan’s erection.
Chan fumbles to lift up the skirt with both hands so he can finally, finally—
He slides in while Felix is speaking into the mic, literally mid-sentence, his voice hitching and almost breaking his rhythm. Perhaps the second half gets a bit breathier, but he manages to keep speaking, which is more than Chan can say for himself.
It’s—such a fucking cliché to say, but he feels like he slid home. His shoulders sag, and instead of slumping backwards like usual he slumps forward this time, cheek smushing between Felix’s shoulder-blades. He has to take the first few minutes to control himself again, of course, to prevent the rocking, thrusting motion from increasing in force and speed, from jostling Felix while he’s concentrating on something else. He sighs, every muscle unwinding, tension leaking out of him. It’s so warm. It’s so perfect.
Fuck, it feels so good.
Felix jolts forward, yelling at a teammate, and Chan’s chin almost digs into his spine, so he wraps his arms around Felix’s waist to steady them together. Also a first, weirdly. And it’s weird that he’s making note of it.
His hips had started to churn for a second again, moving under Felix like a wave, so he forces himself to stop. He lets some more of his weight rest on Felix’s back, who does not seem about to protest, and slowly, gradually, he goes still. His breathing deepens. His mind quiets. His stomach twinges with pleasure, curls of heat without any more terrible urgency just suspending him in this peaceful state.
He finds the smell of Felix like this really adding to everything. If Chan pushed them properly together and leaned up a little further he’d bury his face in Felix’s neck, and be able to take a proper sniff. He thinks of doing it but Felix is doing his own thing and he doesn’t want to bother him. He soon finds his heavy head and heavier eyelids drooping.
Time slows to syrup, and at some point Chan bypasses his meditative state and falls asleep fully. It feels so good. Nothing else in his life feels this good—he was so angry earlier and now that has dissolved, Chan himself has dissolved, thanks to Felix’s lovely disposition, his easy embrace, the tight heat of him cradling Chan so deep where he's meant to be, that space made for him.
He dreams; a first, usually his mind is too blank for that, but he dreams that he’s in the exact same position with the exact same person as he is now, except they are both naked instead of practically fully clothed and Felix is his and they do this because they are together and in love. It’s a certainty, in the dream. Felix murmurs sweet nothings to him and they are taking a luxurious bath in the tub in Chan’s apartment, the water still warm and steaming and bubbly-clean around them. It’s so warm. Chan starts to leak inside Felix, in the dream, because they don’t use condoms anymore because they are together, and he is filling Felix up nice and warm and full, wet inside and wet outside, wet heat everywhere, and Felix is saying his name, so sweet, his sweet Lixie, taking him so well, taking it as Chan lets everything go with a happy sigh and the pleasure crests, a sweet but insistent drum, a vibration that stems from the base of Chan’s spine, and he’s—he’s rocking up into Felix and moaning, the noise crashes into his consciousness just as his hips roll up into him and Felix gasps and says: “Channie, are you awake?”
Chan’s eyes fly open as he registers that he is clutching Felix’s torso to him and fucking up into his ass at a slow gallop.
“Oh f-fuck no n-no,” he gasps, and then he feels it. “Fuck s-sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry—”
But it’s too late and he’s coming, coming so hard he can’t fucking see, his balls tight against his body and shoving up into Felix even as he tries to fight it, tries to stop it when it’s already too late.
“S’okay, Chan-hyung, hey, hey hey it’s okay hyung…”
"Sorry, s-sorry—”
Chan lets go of Felix’s middle and grips the armrests instead, managing to hold himself still but still fucking coming, hips jerking up out of his control like he had a pent-up backlog that finally found an outlet, and he’s spurting into the condom in a powerful stream, pulses that judder up all the way from the soles of his feet which are firmly planted on the floor from him fucking—
“God, m’sorry,” he gasps, and meets Felix’s eyes where Felix is twisted around in his seat.
“It’s so okay,” Felix smiles, so kindly. He’s a little flushed, sweat clumping the foots of his hair to his forehead. “I-I didn’t realize you were… asleep. Sorry.”
Chan pants, chest heaving, and doesn’t understand.
“You…” he shakes his head like a dog, trying to clear it. “You thought I was awake?”
Felix’s flush gets a little worse, and he slides his gaze away. “Um.”
Chan stares, helplessly, up at him. “Did you. Want me to?” He can’t say ‘fuck you’. He can’t say ‘come’.
After a moment’s hesitation, Felix takes one of his hands and brings it to his own thigh, sliding it under the skirt, up the silky skin, up, up.
“Lix—”
And to his dick, which is rock-hard to Chan’s touch.
Chan wraps his fingers around it on instinct and Felix whimpers, and Chan’s grip tightens as he opens his mouth to ask—something, to find out what it means, to clarify that he can’t have a no-strings-attached physical relationship with Felix because he is not chill enough, when he feels come coating his fist in warm blurts.
Felix moans, falling back against his chest.
“Fuck,” Chan grunts, and Felix shivers on top of him and spends himself into his hand, shuddering in little movements until his headset falls off and clatters to the floor. “That’s it, Lixie.” Chan keeps jerking him off and Felix whines, pressing his thighs together. “Feels good, hm? That feel good?”
Felix nods, eyes still scrunched closed, and arches his back into Chan. “F-fuck,” he pants, mouth hanging open. “S-sorry, I can’t come untouched, but… I’m very s-sensitive, if… if you touch me and.” He swallows. “I’ve been hard for hours, you always make me hard, I usually come after you leave, but…”
“Oh.” Chan lets him go when Felix’s squirming goes from pleased to overstimulated, his gorgeous face so close and easier to read.
They both pant in silence, breathing together. On Felix’s monitor set-up, his character has died.
“So…” Felix starts to say, and Chan anticipates the proposition before it comes.
“I can’t do casual,” he blurts.
Felix blinks.
“I’m not… I-I’m so sorry Lixie, I’m not… modern,” he winces at his own word choice. “Uh, I’m not… cool, like that. I’m—stupid, I’m trying not to say 'old-fashioned' but I just mean that I-I’m bad at separating sex and feelings and, and…”
“Channie, hey, take a breath,” Felix says, bracing his hand on Chan’s chest. Chan is still inside him, even though he’s started to go soft after coming so hard. “What do you mean, feelings?”
Right.
The terror of having his source of comfort ripped away is outmatched only by his desire to be true to Felix, and to honor their friendship.
“My… feelings for you.” He clears his throat. “I’m going to develop…” he winces. “I-I am developing… feelings for you. And I can’t. Start something that’s just… sex. Between us.”
Above him, Felix freezes.
“…Oh.”
Chan braces himself, telling himself to grow the fuck up. He’ll go to therapy. He will, as soon as Felix rejects him and this gets taken away. At least he’ll get to keep his friendship with Felix. That matters more than something so banal as sleeping.
“Channie-hyung… do you wanna go out with me?”
“Huh?”
Felix smiles, and he’s doing that thing again—that unsure, tentative thing Chan never sees on his face. There’s almost a hint of fear, in Felix’s big eyes. He looks... tense. Worried, like Felix never is.
“Would you go on a date with me? A-a romantic one?”
Chan blinks, and wonders if he’s finally having the mental breakdown he was headed towards this whole time.
“I have feelings for you too,” Felix adds, like a clarification. “I can separate feelings from sex, but I can’t separate either of them from you. I tried, but I couldn’t… I don’t want those things with anyone else. I want… everything, with you.”
He leans in, slow, afraid, and Chan finally catches on and surges upwards, meeting his kiss in the middle with a relieved groan.
Felix grunts and smiles into the kiss, Chan feels him do it, and his shoulders loosen as the mysterious tension immediately leaves him. Chan smiles into the kiss too, but then Felix shoves his hips down on Chan’s oversensitive, spent dick and he whimpers, feeling himself starting to harden again already.
He surges up from the chair and holds Felix by the thighs until he can lower him to the bed, pulling out to switch out the condom but finding his arm impeded by Felix's grip on his wrist.
"Just... just do it," Felix says, his whole face a plea, and Chan tosses the used condom aside after a hasty knot and lifts up Felix's legs to put his ankles on his shoulders.
"Wanna see your face," he gasps, pressing Felix's thighs back with his body until he's folded in half, skirt flipping open and fanning around his hips, revealing the beautiful, perfect sights Chan has been deprived of. His flushed, pretty pink cock and his hole, the place that belongs to Chan. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah," Felix nods, eyes tracking Chan's face. "Yeah, fuck me, please fuck me hyung, fuck, been thinking about this for months—"
"Me too," Chan says, dick nudging at Felix's hole. It feels so ready for him, so soft, so relaxed that he probably doesn't need more lube, but he still adds some to his length and gets himself back to full hardness in just moments of looking at Felix's vulnerable, beautiful expression. The touch of fear, of... nervousness, is back. "You okay?"
Felix smiles, forehead clearing. "Yeah. I just... like you a lot."
Chan presses into him even further, dick pushing inside and folding him in half so he can kiss him again.
He starts fucking him like that, finally letting his hips drive into Felix the way he's been wanting to, thrusting at a pace that feels frantic but sustainable, ready to do this for hours if Felix wants, because he has a lot of pent-up greed.
"Ah, oh fuck, I... I knew it," Felix moans, little body jostling under Chan, toes curling by Chan's ears in his peripheral vision. "I knew it'd be good, I knew it was... ah, fuck, gonna... be... so good..."
Chan surges into him harder, faster, eager to prove to him that he was right to think that, eager to live up to what Felix needs after Felix gave him what he needed for so long.
"Oh right there, there, there yes there fuck oh Chan—"
Chan kisses the tip of his nose and pulls back a little to watch Felix's face as sweat drips down his back. He's fine. He's feeling good. He remembers what Felix said about being unable to come untouched, so when Felix is ready he might ask for his hand or he might want to touch himself—
"Chan, Channie—" Felix gasps, shifting. "I'm—I think I'm—" He looks alarmed, for a moment, and then he shouts and comes, clenching around Chan so tightly that Chan goes totally still, gaping.
He gets to watch as Felix writhes, cries, and whimpers under him, dick spurting and then dribbling come onto his own chest and stomach.
"Fuck," Felix breathes. "Wow, that's... that was a first." He blinks up at Chan, sweaty and flushed and perfect. "...Can we try that again?"
And Chan dives in to kiss him again, laughing a little bit, breathless, and eager to try whatever the hell Felix wants, for as long as he wants it.
*
They get no sleep at all that night, but Chan has never, ever felt more relaxed.