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felix nudges him with a socked foot in the aircon-chilled waiting room and chan emerges from his work-induced haze to glance over at him. felix is slouched against the armrest of the couch he’s working on, phone in his hands and not even looking at him, just staring at the screen in front of him, his thumbs moving without pause. but his foot is still nudging insistently at chan’s pocket, asking for his attention, poking, prodding.
chan grabs ahold of the offending foot and shakes it gently. “you bored or something?” he asks, squeezing felix’s toes.
felix only wiggles them in response before sitting up and flopping his upper body forward, head landing with a graceless fabric-soft thump on chan’s thigh. he nuzzles his face there for a bit, the heat of his forehead somehow startlingly intimate even through chan’s stage pants, and stills. he mumbles something entirely incoherent.
“I’m sorry? I don’t speak linen.”
“your pants are made out of cotton,” felix mutters traitorously, definitely more audible than before.
“oh? when did you become a fabric expert?” chan’s fingers ghost through felix’s (thankfully unstyled) hair. if felix had been through his turn at makeup already, chan wouldn’t have been allowed to touch like this.
“since I know cotton feels better against my face,” felix says, turning his eyes up to chan with a grin, freckled cheek squishing cutely against chan’s thigh.
chan’s brain-wires for cute-cheek-squish-freckles and the ones for face-against-me-feels-better-? cross disastrously for one disorienting second, and he takes way too long to respond, fingers stalling out where they’re pushed through felix’s bangs.
“uh, cool,” he manages. “I mean, what?”
felix’s eyes glitter, like he knows. “nothing.” he turns and presses a lingering, dangerous kiss against chan’s hip. “just appreciating the outfit,” he mumbles half-against chan’s skin.
it’s been two weeks and he’s still not used to getting kisses from felix, still not used to the loving heat of them, their slow, searing warmth. sometimes chan finds himself zoned out, eyes hesitating, sometimes shyly and sometimes with bold intent, over the plush cupid’s bow of felix’s upper lip, the full curve of his lower one, from across the rooms they share. felix’s mouth is, objectively, a masterpiece, and chan has never felt more blissed out than he is by the thought that he has felix’s permission to touch.
and touch he has. chan has spent more than one night by now just tracing them—sometimes with fingers, sometimes with his own mouth, and sometimes, although only recently, with tongue, exploring the wet heat of felix’s mouth with his own, body pressing the other down into the bed, one hand hitched under felix’s thigh and stretching it up just for the suggestion of what they could be doing. (what he thinks about doing, what he fantasizes about doing, maybe all the time now).
it’s hard, having this want, and being told by the universe to wait, not here, not now, do this instead . it’s the job, it’s the schedule, of course, and he’ll do these things, but sometimes he doesn’t think the universe has really accounted for the fact that he has a willing and warm lee felix in his arms these days.
felix interrupts these thoughts, rolling away from his hip and looking back up at him. he reaches up and takes chan’s hand out of his hair, brings it down, and kisses chan’s palm, firm and chaste. he speaks against chan’s thumb, voice quieter than before, almost shy:
“can you come tonight?”
chan’s breath stutters and the looping, endless want starts all over again.
“yeah. yeah, of course.”
~
it was a long day but now, now, chan’s got felix underneath him, slow music playing in the room behind them as he takes a self-indulgent moment to press his lips against felix’s ear, lingering there before taking the lobe of it softly into his mouth. felix had put the music on as a bit of a joke (“we should listen to what people listen to with their lovers! chris, don’t don’t you want to feel lover-esque?”) but somewhere between felix falling over himself giggling as he scrolled through the music on his phone and chan laughing as he looked over felix’s shoulder, somewhere between his hand grazing the bare skin beneath felix’s cropped shirt and his other pushing the long hair up off of felix’s nape to press his mouth against the back of it, the music had turned into something of a non-ironic soundtrack to the current situation.
which, to chan’s satisfaction, involves finally releasing felix’s ear after giving it a small farewell nibble and moving back down to his mouth, dragging parted lips across felix’s cheek on the way, and then sucking on first his top lip (cupids bow, lip balm, a breathy exhale) and then on his bottom one (warm, full, damp). felix whines when chan goes to tease him, pushing the tip of his tongue just inside felix’s mouth and withdrawing before he can really feel anything at all.
he adores playing with felix like this, something he’s discovered over the course of their still-new relationship: giving felix just a hint of what he wants (which always feels vaguely undefined to chan but seems to translate generally to more more and more), light and teasing before chan withdraws—and then doing it again and again until felix gets to squirming underneath him (or on top of him, in front of him, wherever, they’re still exploring) with a satisfying haze in his eyes. felix, he’s discovered, has a habit of groping at chan after a certain point, one part frustrated and two parts desperate, ears vibrant red and freckles flushed, and it’s a felix chan’s been actively trying to see again.
because having the full force of those pretty eyes on him never fails to make chan lose a bit of his own mind. there’s always a point where he gives up felix’s mouth to kiss them gently closed and re-cover felix’s freckles, always well-kissed already, with kisses over again. he catches the sweet, mild flavor of felix’s skin this way, usually bare from makeup at the time of night they finally get to be alone, and savors this more private felix, a felix who, against truly all odds, offers himself to chan again and again.
here, now, he teases him once more: dips his tongue inside felix’s mouth only slightly and pulls back, returns—only to lick at his top lip and graze his teeth gently over it before lightly pushing his tongue a bit harder against felix’s open mouth—and retreats.
chan huffs a laugh when felix, fed up already, full-body surges upward for more. he pulls quickly away in playful avoidance (felix almost bites at the air trying to catch his mouth) and retaliates with a heavy press of felix’s body back down into the comforter below, his forearm pushed firmly across felix’s chest and a rough press of his mouth up underneath felix’s jaw, pinning felix’s head back into his pillow. he presses his arm down just a bit more, feeling felix’s collarbone beneath, delicate and strong. he’s not pushing hard enough to hurt, of course—but it’s insistent enough to make his point.
felix, on his part, outright groans, deep voice felt against chan’s tongue, as if this has made things either much worse, or much, much better.
chan finally pulls up from felix’s warm neck and tilts his head down at felix, who keeps his head thrown back, languid and pliant. “hmmm, what,” he murmurs, leaning down to quickly kiss felix’s slightly swollen lips, getting felix to refocus on him. “what do you want from me, little one.”
“for you to kiss me properly,” felix says, mustering up a half-hearted glare, the effect somewhat ruined a bit by his hands coming up to tug gently on the back of chan’s hair, like he’s trying to pull him back down to his mouth.
“oh, is that all?” chan asks, taking one of felix’s hands down from his hair and pressing the fingers up against his lips. “to kiss you properly ? but what if I wanted to kiss your tiny little hand some more?” chan asks, biting felix’s index finger gently.
felix’s yelps “tiny!” in near-genuine outrage, kicking one sock-clad foot up against chan’s hip as chan peppers kisses that feel more like laughter across his knuckles.
felix twists his fingers out of chan’s grip and goes to grab chan’s own hand with righteous force. “your hands, sir , are practically the same size as mine—”
he’s interrupted by chan pressing a full kiss to his mouth, wet and deep, melting felix’s objections out of thin air as felix goes lax underneath him, pushing both hands back into chan’s curly hair and pulling him firmly into himself, as if making sure that chan can’t escape him again. felix exhales harshly through his nose, and chan is happily drowning in the sensation of this, their mouths connecting, sliding, pressing, separating, only to join back together with a gasp and a groan.
somewhere between one kiss and the next, after long, hazy minutes, chan feels felix’s tongue—a hesitant little push into his own mouth. he slows down to savor it, only to have it retreat . . . and, after a small pause, push its way back in: a fascinating echo of what chan had done to him. chan’s never been on the receiving end of this before—felix has never initiated something like it—and he has to admit it makes him just a little disoriented himself to feel felix there in his mouth and then gone, there and gone, a tentative push and pull that’s already starting to drive him insane the longer felix goes.
overcome with a sudden, wild need to have him closer, chan pushes his own hands beneath felix’s bed-warm body, dragging them up to felix’s shoulder blades (taking his shirt along with the motion) and pulling his lithe form into his chest, meeting felix’s tongue firmly with his own. preoccupied as he is, he can’t see the newly revealed expanse of golden soft-fuzzed skin of felix’s abdomen, but he can imagine it, feels the warmth of it almost burn through his shirt.
felix’s body, chan thinks distractedly, always feels so slight underneath him like this—as if he could cover him up from the world if he really put his mind to it. but, at the same time, felix is so alive with warmth and movement—always gripping chan’s back, clutching at his hair, hitching his legs up against chan’s hips, moving to bury his face against chan’s neck whenever he feels overwhelmed (which can be often) when they do this—that chan also knows he couldn’t contain him if he tried.
felix is a force of nature. chan knew this from seeing him dance, seeing him perform on stage, seeing him love and live and care for everybody around him with what seemed like his entire body and his whole soul—but experiencing felix in bed has been something else, a pleasure-privilege of such sacred proportions that chan is still wrapping his head around it. to be entirely honest, they haven’t even done much together (only increasingly heated makeout sessions that have him routinely daydreaming in his studio, the physical memory of felix hot in his arms), but it’s a heady experience each time chan is lucky enough for it to happen.
because felix, as it turns out, is a beautifully responsive lover, even as he admitted to chan, ears bright red after the first time they made out on chan’s bed for more than a few minutes, that he didn’t have much experience with “the physical side of things”. well, chan doesn’t exactly have much experience either, having grown up in the industry they’re in, so it only took a few reassurances that they would figure it out together for the anxiety to largely dissipate. since then, felix has taken chan’s invitation to just “try what he wants to try, I’ll stop you if I need to and you do the same” to heart.
and felix, chan thinks, coming back to the current moment, either has a very steep learning curve or has been hiding a natural talent for making chan feel insane because he’s mouthing his way down chan’s neck now and pushing against chan’s pulse, tonguing him there with relentlessly soft pressure as chan closes his eyes and tries to breathe through it. felix’s warm hands come up to hold chan just below his ears as he sucks experimentally on the skin, head lifted straight off the pillow in his eagerness and chan lifting his chin in a gesture of helpless permission. somewhere in the middle of felix’s electric touch, though, a thought occurs to chan, and he worms a hand down underneath felix’s lower back to get a firm grip on him before heaving them both over, flipping their positions so felix that can relax comfortably on his chest and do what he likes with chan’s neck instead of continuing to strain upwards like he was.
felix chirps a little happy sound at his new spot, wiggles a bit to situate himself, then goes back to his gentle sucking, stopping only to bite gently at the base of chan’s neck before suddenly sucking with a lot more force and pulling a short, strangled moan out of chan in response.
felix stops immediately, and pulls away, eyes wide. “sorry, was that okay?”
chan huffs out a laugh and strokes his hands down felix’s back (to calm himself back down or to soothe felix, he doesn’t really know). “good, little one, that felt good—don’t worry.”
felix raises an eyebrow. “if you’re sure.”
“oh, I’m sure,” chan smiles up at felix and brushes a thumb across his cheek. “I’m here for this ride—you just take me wherever you want to go.”
felix giggles at chan’s cheesiness and presses a short kiss against chan’s nose (one of his favorite spots, chan’s noticed—although he can’t for the life of him figure out why. it’s just….big? nothing really special about that, but if it makes felix happy, then fine, he’ll accept it). he moves to go back to chan’s neck before visibly pausing and pulling back again. the aborted movement catches chan’s attention, and he sends a questioning look up at his companion.
felix only glances down and away instead of responding, reaching out to take a bit of chan’s hair between his fingers to tug on while he thinks. chan lets him, thumbs moving in soothing circles on felix’s hips, and waits.
“then is it okay…?,” he finally gets out, letting go of chan’s curl and looking up to meet his eyes, “if….I ask—or if you……..” he trails off, ears turning noticeably red and looking like he’s still wracking his brain for how to word this right.
chan leans up and touches his nose gently to felix’s, nothing but soft affection. “hey,” he nudges his nose in gentle reprimand. “it’s just me, yeah? there’s nothing to be embarrassed about—if you want to try something, you just ask, yeah? and if I don’t want it, I’ll just say so.”
“yeah,” felix mutters in response, still red.
chan moves to felix’s ear, hoping the lack of eye contact will make it a bit easier for him, and asks against it, voice soft, “what do you want, hmm? you want me to do something, or you want to do something?” he moves a hand up to felix’s neck and massages it once, softly, before moving to thumb at the tip of felix’s opposite ear.
felix shivers and then speaks all at once: “just—can you takeoffyourshirt?”
“my shirt?” chan asks, double checking that he heard right. it’s such a simple request.
“yeah, please. um, only if you want.”
“love, I would be more than happy to,” chan says, sitting them both up briefly to remove his shirt. he knows there’s probably sexy ways of taking a shirt off, but honestly, he’s a bit distracted by the flushed view of felix sitting pretty and feline on top of his thighs, blonde hair fluffed, freckles out, and still kind of red for much shirt strategizing, so he ends up just taking it off one arm at at time—like a dork, the same way he does every day.
felix doesn’t seem to mind though, staring unabashedly at chan’s body as it’s revealed, eyes wide and a bit glittery like this is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, despite having definitely seen chan shirtless nearly every day in the dorm before. it isn’t exactly new. but chan guesses just seeing him shirtless around the kitchen is a bit different from him getting shirtless, and for felix specifically, in bed.
chan ignores his reflexive embarrassment at being stared at so openly and pulls them both back down, settling felix on top of his now-bare chest and guiding felix’s head back down to his neck. “here,” he whispers.
the invitation seems to break felix out of his trance, and he goes back to mouthing at chan’s neck—only this time, his hands are exploring too, roving slowly from chan’s biceps down to his chest and gripping across chan’s muscles like he’s only ever done playfully before.
it doesn’t feel playful now, chan thinks, breathing as he holds himself still and lets felix explore at his own pace. the urge to feel felix up in turn, to grope his body and touch the parts of him he’s never been able to touch before is strong—but a part of chan is trying to hold back, especially when they move into new territory like this. because if he allows himself to do all the things he wants to do in the heat of the moment with felix, things would, quite honestly, escalate out of both of their control. and chan would rather take it torturously slow than race headfirst into doing something one or both of them might regret. so slow, at least for now, is best.
meanwhile, felix has made his merry way to chan’s collarbones, mouthing kisses across them as his hand, warm and determined, settles directly on top of chan’s pectoral and squeezes. there’s a second’s pause where felix seems to be processing the sensation before doing it again—and then kisses almost frantically down to his chest, teeth scraping chan a bit in his urgency to settle his mouth directly on the opposite pectoral.
so much for slow , chan thinks helplessly, body turning to fire as felix with no preamble or warning at all starts to suck at his nipple, gently and then with stuttering force. and then he makes the mistake of glancing down, and god, all his mind is going to see for the next week is felix lying there on top of him, mouth open, eyes closed, and lips wrapped around chan’s nipple, looking almost stuffed full of the muscle and moaning as if this is turning felix on and not the other way around.
filled with a nameless urgency, chan’s hands stroke with desperate pressure down felix’s back, dragging lower and lower until he’s grabbing handfuls of felix’s ass, bold, gripping him there as if it’s the only thing that can help him cope with the onslaught of the wet warmth on his nipple, the definite hint of tongue felix has started using there, pushing and retreating, licking and pulling away, a newly familiar rhythm that feels like a white hot revelation nonetheless.
chan squeezes, hard.
felix comes up with a gasp, but rather than giving chan any kind of break, he just switches to the other side.
chan tips his face up toward the ceiling and breathes, hands still full of felix’s ass, and, well, if he had been half-hard this whole time, he was fully there from the moment felix’s mouth found his chest. he’s positive that felix can feel it through his sweatpants—and, oh , okay, yep, felix definitely feels it because he’s spreading his legs and rutting down. he’s ( hhhghh, chan’s brain supplies) working himself up on the shape of chan’s cock, little thrusts of his cock against chan’s that chan can feel all the way down to the arches of his feet.
he can’t believe how good it feels, like electricity and warmth and—he circles his own hips up in turn, using his grip on felix’s ass to press the boy gently in counter-circles, careful not to go as fast as his dick actually wants him to go—he’s vibrating out of his skin with it, he’s going mindless with want.
“baby,” he groans out, dragging his hands up away from felix’s ass to squeeze at his narrow waist instead. he pauses there, rubbing palms over felix’s heated skin before tentatively pushing his fingers just beneath the front band of felix’s underwear with clear hesitation. “can I—is this—”
“ yeah , yes—” felix moans against his chest and pushes his ass up in a way that would be obscene in any situation, but combined with his still-parted mouth and flushed face pressed against chan’s chest as felix looks up at him with wet eyes, it creates such a vividly lewd picture that he maybe blacks out a bit as he pushes his hands for the first time beneath felix’s pants.
chan’s left hand meets warmth and wet as he gently takes hold of felix’s cock.
“you’re this wet for me?” chan breathes.
felix only hiccups in response. trembling, he pushes his hips forward into chan’s palm, starting up a stuttering rhythm on his own before chan soothes a warm hand down his back and murmurs, “shhh, no, it’s okay, let me,” into his hair.
chan begins stroking him with intent, letting felix turn his head to the side and simply take it, laying there open-mouthed and vacant-eyed on his chest as chan works him the best he can, the push pull of felix’s intimately soft skin slipping hot through chan’s hand like a revelation.
struck by a sudden and specific desire, chan brings his other hand up to felix’s face and gently grips his chin, lifting it and turning his head to look at him before moving it down to wrap gently around felix’s neck. he doesn’t squeeze—he knows better than to do that without a longer conversation and ideally some more research on his part—but the suggestion of his grip is enough to give him felix’s desperate eyes meeting his own.
“gonna hold you like this, if that’s okay?” he strokes his thumb up and down felix’s adam’s apple as he waits for felix’s consent. he feels felix’s adam’s apple bob with a sudden swallow under his touch and chan is struck by the thought that he’s always adored this part of felix….this part of him that has made his sound possible, that has given felix such a unique color, such a lovely voice—there’s a sense of reverence, even here, even now (especially here, especially now) in chan’s gentle hold.
“kay,” felix whispers, his eyes darker than chan’s ever seen them, his body still. “yes.”
felix relaxes into his hold, head tilting and eyes drifting shut as he pushes his hips into chan’s palm anew, finding a languid, mindless rhythm that chan strives to match, letting felix set the pace but giving him a firm, unyielding pressure around his cock that contrasts with the lightness of chan’s grip around his neck. felix’s hand drifts up to wrap around chan’s wrist, just holding him there, mindlessly stroking his own thumb across the back of it. felix has done this a million times before, only now, with his neck bared and eyes closed, with his cock sliding through chan’s grip, felix’s fingers on his wristbone feels radical—like trust and acceptance, a giving of his own pleasure, his own body, over to chan, all at once and in total surrender.
eyes pricking with sudden tears, chan whispers, “gonna take care of you, yeah?”
felix moans in response and squeezes hard at chan’s hand.
“‘m gonna make sure you feel good.” chan says, squeezing felix’s cock once, gently, before starting to stroke felix off faster, his fingers slipping through the wet warmth of felix’s arousal and so dizzy with the sensation of it.
“wanna watch you feel good, baby. wanna—,” chan inhales, “feel you push your pretty cock into my hand until you cum, yeah? you’ll do that for me? you gonna let me help you get there?”
felix cries out a little at this, eyes scrunching, and speeds up the movement of his own hips, panting as the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. chan feels almost frantic with it and he speaks to felix without thinking, head too filled with the vision of felix’s open-mouthed face above him, slender neck in the palm of his hand.
“that’s it, yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re doing so good, baby, keep going, keep going.” he presses his mouth up against felix’s ear.
“use me, love, use me to make yourself feel good, that’s it” chan groans, his next words coming from what feels like his very core, “I’m yours, I’m yours, ‘ve always been yours, always gonna be—”
overcome, he pushes his tongue fully into felix’s ear.
this, out of everything, seems to be the final straw for felix who whines, drops his head, and comes messily all over chan’s fingers, hips stuttering as chan milks him through it with fast, hard strokes, his other hand gripping the back of felix’s head, still mouthing at his ear between whispering to him. “you’re so beautiful, lix. you’re lovely, so lovely, you came so much, you did so well, my baby, my little one—look at you, look at you—” and on and on until chan doesn’t know what he’s saying, only that he’s burning white hot and bright seeing felix come for the first time, knowing he was the cause of it.
felix whimpers softly as he comes down, body slumping in exhaustion. chan catches him, removing his hand from felix’s pants to wrap both arms around his waist. and they breathe, together, for a while.
chan presses his nose into the top of felix’s hair. “you okay?”
felix pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks at chan with bleary eyes. “more than okay. that was—you—I feel like I just died, but, in a good way.”
chan chuckles at that, and pushes the hair that’s fallen into felix’s eyes back with his clean hand, before leaning over to grab tissues and clean his other hand up.
as he reaches over, felix intercepts him by moving his face right up against chan’s, nose to nose.
“wait,” felix whispers, “we’re not done yet.”
chan raises his eyebrow at him before feeling a warm hand drift down his abdomen and close over his clothed, still-hard cock.
felix squeezes.
“you don’t– you don’t have to do anything about that,” chan says on a shaky exhale, trying to ignore his body’s response to that. “you’re tired, I can see it. and you don’t know how good I already felt watching you come like that.”
and he can see it in felix’s droopy eyes and the line of his mouth. he looks exactly like he does when he eats too big of a meal before an interview and draws on all his professional will to keep himself awake and upright.
“I don’t need you to push yourself,” chan says, bringing felix’s face down to press a warm kiss to his forehand. “go ahead and sleep, I can….take care of this.”
“no,” felix says, smiling.
“no?”
“no, you won’t be self-sacrificing about letting me sleep when I want to take care of you.” felix punctuates this statement with a shimmy down chan’s body, grasping the waistband of his sweats before looking up at chan for permission, “or, at least, I want to try.”
chan, hands suspended almost comically with a tissue, mid-clean, stares down at him, valiantly ignoring the twitch his own dick gives at the sight of felix’s face so close to it.
“alright,” he says eventually, because how long do you fight your pretty boyfriend for wanting to get you off?, “but if you fall asleep, I will say I was right.”
felix just gives him a smile and noses across chan’s waistband and down across the outline of chan’s cock, before pressing a warm kiss through the cloth against the side of it.
chan exhales, much more shakily than before, and props himself up on one elbow to watch as felix pulls his pants slowly down, underwear with them, to reveal the admittedly desperate shape of him to the cool bedroom air.
felix huffs in what sounds like pure satisfaction and nuzzles his cheek against it. it feels oddly like a gesture of pure affection, but it’s laced with something darker: the promise of pleasure, of felix’s attention, of his mouth (chan doesn’t dare to even think—).
felix interrupts his non-thought by simply pushing his mouth up against the tip, darting his tongue out with an experimental kitten lick, eyes sleepy and curious. he does it again, and then longer, wetter, against the side, dragging his tongue up almost luxuriously—and then mouthing back down, like chan’s cock is something to be savored instead of rushed.
it’s only when chan thinks felix must have covered his entire cock, one gentle and loving wet drag at a time, that felix pulls back slightly and looks up with a question in his eyes.
“yeah, you can keep going,” chan whispers, reaching out a bit helplessly to thumb at felix’s freckled cheekbone.
“no, um—I was going to ask…..,” a nervous swallow, “can you do it for me?”
“huh?” is all chan can manage. his brain is so fuzzy.
“like,” felix shifts on the mattress and wraps a soft hand around the base of chan’s cock, “can you show me how you want me to….do it? guide me?”
and that’s the thing, isn’t it? that’s his weakness right at the core of him—bright, lovely, talented lee felix looking up at chan with trust and asking him to lead him through something unfamiliar, something new, something chan can help him with. sometimes chan feels like he was born to do exactly this, has felt that way from the moment he met felix, young and unsure, fresh from sydney, wearing a backpack and stumbling over his words.
but felix has grown up since then. it’s been a very long time since felix has looked to him for that kind of guidance. chan knows this is a good thing, a healthy thing—and he’s so very proud of the man felix has become, the confidence that laces his every stage, the way he glitters through the social world of their industry, the love he unconsciously inspires when he does. yet still, a dark and secret part of chan misses felix looking to him like this (even when he’s, in all honesty, barely qualified as something like an expert here).
but it’s less that felix is looking to him as an expert and more like he’s simply looking at him with trust—as if whatever chan does with him in this bed is going to be something that takes care of felix, that would never seek to hurt him, that felix actively wants, even as felix takes care of chan in all his small ways and in some very big ones too.
it’s chan feeling so desperately at home with himself, with felix, at the knowledge of that trust.
all he can do is reach down, whisper, “of course, baby” and slide a hand into felix’s soft hair. felix’s mouth goes lax, dropping open in near-pornagraphic submission, and chan simply pulls him forward, moving him up against his cock and putting gentle pressure on the back of felix’s head until he’s mouthing at the tip again.
he pauses. “tell me if anything feels uncomfortable?”
felix hums and presses back up into chan’s hand with catlike affection. “kay,” he murmurs and looks up at chan and waits.
at his verbal confirmation, chan inhales, braces himself, and presses the back of felix’s head down, first gently and then firmer, pushing his open mouth down onto his cock, eyes briefly rolling back in his head at the sudden wet warmth of it. he feels it in his abdomen, down his legs, tingling across the back of his neck, and a sudden playful push of felix’s tongue against his cock has him groaning, the pressure of felix’s lips, his dizzying heat, relentless.
“ god ,” he manages to gasp out before pulling felix back up and pushing him back down—not too far, he’s trying not to choke him, but far down enough that when he looks back down, felix’s mouth is full —eyes closed, face flushed, mouth open wide.
and so chan moves felix’s head up again and back down, grip tight in his hair, his elbow giving out at some point as he simply flops down onto the mattress and brings both hands up into felix’s hair to guide his movements, speeding up almost unconsciously and eyes slipping shut as he exists as veins of pure pleasure in this blissed out moment. he could die happy here, his cock in his love’s mouth, and not bat an eye.
as the need to cum grows, chan pulls felix off definitively, ignoring his yelp of protest, and rolls him over onto his back before he follows him, leaning over to lick the taste of himself out of felix’s mouth, swollen and wet.
“you good, baby? you feeling okay?” he asks, pressing the questions hard into felix’s mouth and neck until they’re almost indistinguishable from sucking kisses.
“wan’ you to come,” felix breathes out, sounding about as fucked out as chan feels, reaching a hand down and wrapping it unceremoniously around chan’s dick and starting a fast and unforgiving rhthym that has chan moaning into his shoulder, hips starting to fuck into felix’s hold—a mirror reverse of their earlier position.
he’s as wet as felix was then, and just when he feels like he’s about to burst, he reaches down, grabs felix’s wrist in a firm hold to keep him still and fucks frantically into felix’s hand, faster and rougher until he’s moaning out, shuddering—sucking down hard on felix’s neck, groaning “lixxie, baby —” and coming messily all over felix’s abdomen and the sheets below.
felix is breathing hard with chan, unclenching the fingers of his other hands from chan’s bare shoulder where they had been digging in like his life depended on it, and chan hopes in some distant foggy corner of his brain that felix has left marks.
it takes him a while to realize that felix is speaking to him, in his deep voice, running the clean fingers of one hand through chan’s hair as chan lays there uselessly on top of him, trying to recover from what feels like the most intense experience of his life.
“love you,” felix is saying, voice intimately soft, “channie, channie, you looked so good, I thought I was gonna go crazy,” he nuzzles at chan, “you did so well, used me so well—such a good channie. such a good good channie. the best channie.”
chan’s too fucked out to be embarrassed, and for the first time in a long time, just lies there and accepts the praise, lets it add to the warmth already coursing through his veins at being held by felix, at having had this with him, at looking forward to a future where he does this again and again, and never gets tired of it.
~
later, after they’ve both showered and changed the sheets, felix is lying wrapped up in chan’s arms, cheek pressed against his chest.
chan reaches down a finger and traces his scrunched eyebrows, “what are you thinking so hard about, hmm?”
felix shushes him gently and holds one finger up. “I’m listening to your heartbeat.”
“but why do you look so serious about it?” chan asks, confused. “you look like you’re hearing whatever the opposite of ASMR is.”
felix snorts.
“I’m trying to memorize it, okay?” he huffs. “I just wanna know it. wanna be able to recognize it.”
chan feels a sensation in his stomach like he’s missed a step going down a tall flight of stairs. “oh.”
“yeah, oh,” felix whispers, a soft echo.
he settles back down to listen, a gentle and constant pressure over chan’s heart.