Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chan’s made a lot of mistakes in his life — don’t get him wrong.  

He should have invested in JYPE when it first launched its IPO. That definitely would have funded his recording equipment and studio far earlier than he had managed. Then he could have made stupid amounts of money off of JYPE’s dick of a CEO. 

He should have double-checked his laundry was actually dry instead of leaving it in the dryer overnight and assuming. Now some of his thickest sweatshirts smell mildly like mildew and that’s just straight up not acceptable. He should have never agreed to go to the gym with Felix tonight.

He knows that for sure was a mistake — he’s just not quite sure how severe the mistake is yet. 

The first thing Chan fails to take into account when his sweet, sweet boyfriend suggests they go to the gym, is now glaringly obvious. Reason number one that Chan has fucked up: Felix is gorgeous. This logically he knows. It’s a fact that stares him in the face quite frequently, now that Felix has a permanent space in his apartment — takes up a drawer in Chan’s wardrobe for his own clothes and everything. Felix is so painfully stunning in all situations that Chan has little decorum on a good day. 

So make Chan sweaty and warm in the gym? Add in a sweaty and warm looking Felix? One who decided, half an hour ago, to unceremoniously strip his shirt and pour a water bottle across his head like a heathen? 

Chan’s screwed and that’s only a third of the issue at hand. 

Secondly, Felix is a good fighter. He almost forgot his sweet, sweet sunshine loves to torment him in all ways possible, at all times, and at times like these, that much is clear. Felix is first and foremost a competitive little demon hellspawn. You put Felix in a situation that requires competition and he abandons all kindness in his body in favor of chaos and winning. 

And so because Felix is fit and gorgeous, good at everything that requires physicality and coordination, and is as heinously competitive as Chan is himself, Chan has maybe bit off more than he can chew, so to speak. Boxing is apparently not that terribly different from Taekwondo, and unbeknownst to him, Felix has a black belt. If Chan grits his teeth any harder, it’s possible that even his custom night guard won’t protect his pearly whites from cracking, and that would be a shame, because there’s nothing worse than disappointing his dentist. 

Felix has thus far been agile and lithe, and willing to sneak in a kick when he’s losing, which has managed to throw Chan off balance more times than Chan is willing to admit. Right now, they’re a solid 2 - 2 in score with neither backing down — and Chan was supposed to be teaching Felix how to box. He normally wins without fail against Felix (and if he lets Felix win sometimes because his boyfriend has too cute of a pout and insane stamina when it comes to playing Tekken, only he and god are privy to that information.) But honestly, this is all besides the point. 

Because thirdly, the true point is — all of it is making him so goddamn, incredibly horny. Unreasonably horny. The kind of biblical greed horny that’s making it hard for Chan to really process complex thoughts in his brain that don’t involve the words “cock” and “hole.” 

He wraps the sports tape tighter around the gauze on his fist, thanking every god in this universe that scent blockers have been invented, because if not, this whole gym would smell like a dive bar after 2am — acidic and harsh. Sue him, he’s frustrated and horny and all of that together makes his scent smell like frat basement jungle juice.  

That all leads him to now: Felix prances around the ring taunting him a little too cocky, a little too confident, and a little too calm for this to be really anything other than serious at this point. Felix is a bit frustrated too — his scent bleeds even through his patch, a sickly sweet caramelized sugar, burned and smoking. Chan’s sure something is brewing in a, “honey, you’ve got a storm comin’” kinda way. If Chan had more brain power, wasn’t also a competitive shit, and wasn’t physically sweating his pores off, maybe he’d be able to tell which direction the storm was coming from. 

“You’re taking too long,” Felix goads, rolling out his shoulders.

“You were happy with how long I was last night,” Chan says amicably. He has enough brain left for sass always. 

Felix glares. 

More evidence a storm is brewing: Felix had started in an unusually bad mood today, too. Chan knows he had a hard time with the toddler pre-ballet class this week, but Chan expects that come every other Tuesday. Today is Friday. 

Maybe that should have cued him off, he thinks absentmindedly, as he finishes the last bit of tape and cuts it off from the roll. Felix wanting to spend a Friday night in the gym? Chan has realistically only known Felix for 8 months and even he knows that’s abnormal. Friday nights find Felix glued to some sort of gaming device with fuzzy socks, piles of blankets, and enough Cheetos to sink a battleship. (He makes adorable little nests to unwind each week; Chan’s only a little smitten.) The fact he had abandoned his gaming chair on a Friday? Odd. 

“You take any longer I’m going to die of old age,” Felix whines from the other side of the ring, actively bouncing off the ropes and posts waiting for Chan to put his gloves back on. Chan may be taking a little too long so that he can clear his head and his boner. Both of which are proving difficult with Felix’s constant half-naked movement in the corner. 

He dons his boxing pads so that Felix’s hits can ultimately punch through soft padding and not Chan’s face, and gets up. No point in thinking the issue through anymore — Chan’s thought, and over thought, about it enough. He might as well stop thinking because he’s not anywhere closer to figuring out the “why” behind Felix’s attitude tonight. 

“Finally ready to meet your death?” Felix smiles wickedly when Chan approaches.

He’s learned any truly sassy quips back will just fuel whatever haze Felix is in tonight and thus make him fight harder. Which is kinda tough for Chan, considering then he has to fight harder, which makes Chan feel a little hazy himself. 

He nods his head instead, still trying to rid his thoughts about the odd energy that swirls around them both. He feels like he should know the answer to whatever is pissing Felix off, to the weird buzz of emotions that are stewing under his own skin, but for the life of him, can’t remember doing anything wrong, and can’t focus long enough to hold onto a strong line of thinking. 

“Round 5,” Chan says, “shorten up your stance and try not punch past my gloves, you like my face on a normal day.” 

Felix scoffs, but abides. 

The first few hits are easy for Chan to weave and deflect. He’s got enough body weight that he can use his sheer mass against Felix and stay grounded even as the smaller man pitches forward jabbing with his left fist. He dodges, and weaves, and tries to keep his breathing steady and his stance grounded.

Unfortunately, Felix’s patience only lasts so long, and today that patience is angel hair pasta thin. It only takes Chan bodying him backwards, disturbing his footing for Felix to look at him deadass and shift his weight to launch a kick at Chan’s head.

Which is NOT in the rules of boxing, Chan might add. 

He’s not sure Felix understands how much finesse it really takes Chan to maneuver them both successfully to the ground once he catches Felix’s ankle and they take a tumble. But it definitely takes a lot of effort for Chan to make sure he lands on Felix without too much weight on any important joints or organs. 

He double taps Felix’s wrist, a sign the match is over and collapses over Felix’s body gently. He should find it gross how their combined sweat is soaking into his thin cotton shirt where it’s pressed to both of their chests, but instead he feels some sort of primal satisfaction. He chalks it up to the adrenaline of finishing a good match. 

“Jesus,” he says finally, huffing slightly. He tries really hard to hide any annoyance in his voice. “Lix, you can’t just throw a kick like that, you gotta warn me.”

“That defeats the purpose of throwing the surprise kick,” Felix frowns. Chan can’t see the frown, but he can certainly hear it in Felix’s voice. 

“But it saves us both from a hell of a lot of bruises,” Chan groans, pressing his forehead into Felix’s collarbone. It does soothe an itch in him, to be this close and plastered to Felix. Like he feels better in his bones when he can count Felix’s heartbeats. Felix tenses underneath him, a twitch of muscle that reminds Chan of Felix’s underlying agitation. 

Right, Chan remembers belatedly. Felix is in a bad mood. 

He winces as Felix starts to pull his body away. The loss of skin on skin contact immediately feels nothing less than wildly irritating. 

“Fine, I guess you don’t want to take me seriously,” Felix spits with far more vitriol than Chan thinks he’s deserved. Quite frankly, it’s far more vitriol than Chan thought Felix was capable of. Felix is chaotic and aloof at times, but always kind and thoughtful  — not mean.

Chan frowns.

He wishes Felix would come back and let Chan put his cheek back on his chest so Chan could feel the heat of the smaller boy’s skin. It was calming, without it, frustration bubbles up on Chan’s skin white hot. 

“That’s not what I’m saying baby,” He says, balancing on all fours now. He can’t help but wince at Felix’s harsh glare when they lock eyes. 

Chan knows, sometimes, he deserves a little harshness, he can be a little dense, but now is not one of them. 

“It’s how you’re acting though,” Felix says, eyebrows furrowed. He leans forward and balances on his elbows for support. Chan watches the way sweat drips off his hair where it meets his shoulders. Does Felix normally get this sweaty working out? Chan doesn’t have enough time to ponder that question before Felix is scoffing. 

“You’re not even listening to me, classic,” he says, rolling his eyes and scooting himself fully away. He jumps up to standing and whips around too fast for Chan to process.

“I’m done with this, I’m going to shower.” 

With that, he leaps out of the ring leaving a very confused, slightly irritated, and mostly worried Chan behind. So Chan does what comes naturally — overthinks everything. It feels like an eternity before he is able to focus back on the real world, mind clearing slighting from its haze. 

By his estimate, Chan has very limited moves on the board. After spending a good few minutes lying on the floor and contemplating his boyfriend’s anger and his next move, he decides that any choice he makes will make him Felix’s number one enemy at this point, so he’s going to pick the one that at least helps him self-soothe. 

He gets up from the ring and heads to the locker room. He needs a shower. 

It’s a nicer gym — Chan doesn’t pay his egregious monthly membership to be surrounded by lots of sweaty people. The gym is meant to be calming, not increase his blood pressure. So luckily that means, besides the poor security guard manning the front desk, Chan’s pretty sure him and Felix are the only lucky bastards who thought working out at 10pm on a Friday night was a good idea (normally it’s just Chan that’s the lone crazy).

There’s a single shower head sounding off tile when he opens the door, steam already piling up heavy in the room. Felix must be trying to scald this skin clear off the bone. 

He grabs his towel and strips his gross and sweaty t-shirt above his head throwing it onto the bench along with his other clothing. It’s now or never he thinks as he steps into the showers and heads across the room. They stand at opposite ends which Chan hopes will make Felix feel less cornered even if it makes Chan feel unexplainably worse. The shower smells like cotton candy body wash that expired 15 years ago and burnt sugar cookies. Felix must have stripped off his scentblocker. 

Chan starts his own shower head, momentarily enjoying the peace of hot water before he steels himself. He can be brave — he’s a brave boy. He can do difficult things! And today’s difficult thing is just talking to Felix! He does that all the time! 

“Lix,” he starts tentatively, leaving enough space for a rebuttal before pushing forward gently, “you’d let me know if something was wrong, right?” 

He’s reassurance-seeking, he knows, but his therapist isn’t there to yell at him, so Chan gives himself this one. 

“Of course,” Felix says, clipped. Chan can hear him rubbing soap suds into his scalp. 

“Or if I did something wrong, you’d tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Chan breathes and braces himself for his final question. Felix clearly won’t elaborate and Chan needs an answer. They’re at a stalemate, just like they have been, and Chan’s not ready to give up the fight, even if he frames it politely, “okay baby, then can you please tell me what’s up? You’ve been… a lot tonight.” 

“A lot?” Felix questions. Chan hears the soap-sudsing stop. That wasn’t the correct word choice. He takes a deep breath. That’s not what he meant per say. 

“Not in a bad way,” he self-corrects hastily, trying to be diplomatic. “You’ve just been very intense,” Chan tries. Hopefully that’s a neutral enough adjective. “I’m worried.”

Felix scoffs. 

Chan glances over his right shoulder to see the way Felix’s shoulders shrug up into his ears as he takes an audible breath. Now, Chan knows, it is his time to wait. Even if it means his heart is beating out of his chest  — anxiety and annoyance claw at him impatiently, like a dog nosing for more pets. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Felix says finally quietly.  

He should take that at face value — he really should. But, he’s irritated, as that’s clearly not the case. 

“I’m not a fan of lying, Lix,” Chan says. He hates how old it makes him sound. 

“M’not lying!” Felix mumbles petulantly. Chan turns to face his obviously defensive boyfriend and crosses his arms across his chest. Okay, maybe he’s willing to play the “I’m older than you” card. He stares and waits. Felix closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. His body looks like it shakes from the intensity. The moment hangs and Chan wonders if he’s willing to push even harder — if he even should. 

“You have done nothing wrong,” Felix finally sighs, a normal tone escaping his lips. He slumps forward slightly and suddenly Chan realizes how exhausted he looks, skin flushed a pale pink. The blond runs a hand through wet hair before shaking it out of his eyes. 

“Nothing, I promise. But I don’t know, I’m just feeling… a lot tonight. I don’t know what it is, but nothing feels right, everything feels backwards, and I can like, feel my teeth, you know what I mean?” 

Chan can vaguely follow that line of thinking. He runs his tongue over his own teeth.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “anything I can do to help?” It’s only a few steps before he can lean on the wall next to Felix patiently as Felix turns around and dunks himself in a now ice cold spray. Chan feels his own irritation ebb with their close proximity, which is soothing momentarily, but then a few droplets hit Chan’s skin and he immediately recoils, sucking air harshly through his teeth. The water is fucking freezing. 

“I don’t think so,” Felix says once he resurfaces, shaking out his hair like a wet dog, “just feel amped up tonight.” 

“Amped up is right, you tried to kick me in the face,” Chan chuckles quietly. This close to Felix, Chan feels the previous warmth of the shower head making him feel light headed. Or is it the chill — or maybe he just didn’t hydrate enough? He feels a tad woozy. That’s maybe why he makes the mistake of making a joke, lulled into a false sense security that Felix has relaxed.

Felix’s scent sparks, sharp and poignant. 

“We were boxing, I was supposed to,” Felix deadpans. 

“We were sparing Felix, not fighting.” Chan offers, still apparently not catching the vibe. 

“You’re just mad I beat you,” Felix quips, rolling his eyes. “Sorry alpha,” he says mockingly, “I won’t do it again.” 

The reappearance of Felix’s attitude is unwelcome. It makes Chan feel like he’s slightly lost his footing. He feels back on edge — too much energy stuffed under the surface of his skin. 

“Beat me?” Chan yelps trying to find that footing again, “you — you didn’t beat me!”  

Maybe not the first thing Chan should focus on, but damn, focusing generally, when this close to Felix, Chan can smell how mouthwateringly good he smells past the layers of anger, God — it almost smells like—

“Oh, I didn’t,” Felix hums dangerously calm, turning off the ice cold spray and stalking forward into Chan’s space suddenly, “you had to tap out in the last match.”  

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Chan says, frowning. 

“Hurt me?” Felix says, eyes going impossibly wide, “we won an equal amount, why the fuck would you worry about hurting me?” 

“Because I’m trying to be thoughtful?” Chan says, his frown growing deeper. 

“Oh sure,” Felix hisses, jabbing a finger at Chan’s chest with an eye roll that would make Hyunjin proud, “all you alphas are the same, look down on me because of who I am.” 

Now that — that kinda pisses Chan off, because he knows the alphas that Felix are referring to. The slimy scum that don’t have enough brain cells to rub together to make a singular critical thought. Chan is not one of those alphas. He tries really fucking hard not to be. 

“I wasn’t looking down on you Felix, I’m your boyfriend, I don’t want to hurt you,” he says firmly. 

“Don’t make excuses Christopher, I won, and now you’re mad about it, aren’t you?”

Well, he wasn’t mad previously. But now he’s a little peeved with how far Felix is pushing tonight. His head is woozy and he can feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at his temple.

“Felix,” he warns, “you’re not listening.”  

”Christopher,” Felix repeats. “Just admit it, you’re mad.” 

“I’m mad? I’m not mad, you’re mad!” 

“Me?! Don’t turn this on me.” 

“Listen— I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but you’re out of line—,”

“Of course, Alpha, sorry Alpha,” Felix spits. This close up in Chan’s face Felix’s scent is suffocating, leaving Chan gasping for air in an incredible undignified way.

“Don’t twist my words, you know I don’t mean it that way—,” Chan sputters indignantly. Little squeaks and everything.

“Then in what way do you mean it?” 

Felix is so up in his business now, nearly pressing him to the tile wall that it’s hard to think properly and Chan’s brain had little function remaining when he entered this room, tired physically and drained mentally from trying to solve the puzzle of Felix’s anger and his own goddamn mental fog. 

“Fucking hell baby—  I don’t think I deserve to be this much of a… of a punching bag tonight, will you relax?”

Chan should know better, because in the history of people telling one another to relax during a fight, Chan doesn’t think that has ever once worked. But ultimately, Chan is a cornered and frustrated human, so that’s what comes out of his mouth. 

Felix looks near apocalyptic, the sound of the water dripping suddenly intensely loud in the quiet of the locker rooms. Chan thinks maybe, that now, he’s getting punched in the face for sure. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Needs to recenter himself or something. The darkness of his eyelids is calming, and the smell of Felix is— 

Felix’s scent flares long enough and hard enough in his egregious anger that it feels like a mental zap to Chan’s brain, now that he’s taken away his own senses. He gets a good enough smell with a clear enough brain and suddenly, everything adds up, and Chan feels stupid. 

Very, very stupid. 

He is at a crossroads again with decision making. He thinks he definitely made the right decision following Felix back to the locker room; he’s not quite convinced Felix wouldn’t have dissolved into a puddle of hot skin, anger, and goo if he had left him by himself, and it’s a move that definitely placated his inner alpha, but this next decision? He braces himself in case he gets punched in the face for sure, for sure.

You never really, truly know how someone’s going to take a scruffing. 

He thinks of Felix’s intensity, his energy, and his attitude this evening. He thinks of how flushed and red Felix looks even dripping ice cold water. He thinks of how he’s been fighting agitation and a boner off all evening, amped up and horny as all hell. He thought he was just always horny for Felix. That horny was the baseline. The default.

He now sees it for the clue it was.

He takes a deep breath, inhales caramelized sugar and vanilla, and tries to exhale any doubts. 

“Relax?” Felix finally spits, “relax? I can’t fucking believe you—.”

Chan can’t believe himself either. 

He reaches a hand towards Felix quickly and prays he’s read everything right. The alpha in him whines, pawing at his rib cage nosing to be released. To take care of the man in front of him. To take care of his omega. He’s got to fix this, make this right. He hopes this is the right move. 

His fingers pinch the skin at the back of Felix’s neck, on either side of his spine, and the effect is simultaneous. Felix gasps like he’s inhaling his first gulp of air after drowning, grabbing onto Chan’s wrist like a lifeline. 

“What the fuck— Chris,” Felix exhales shakily, tears springing to his eyes immediately.

Unfortunately Chan doesn’t know if that means he’s sad, angry, or gives him any context clues really. 

Chan may panic slightly, “no— I’m sorry, shit— I shouldn’t’ve.” 

He at least retracts where his blunt fingernails dig into the meat of Felix’s shoulders, but as soon as he lets off pressure, Felix claws at his wrist, locking him in place with a snarl. Pressing his nails back in, Chan watches as Felix looks like he’s actually doused in ice water, a full body shiver wracking his frame. 

Felix gulps, chokes, “fuck— Chris, don’t stop. Shit. Harder.”

Chan presses tighter against muscle and tendon, in awe of how Felix’s body relaxes, each muscle loosening like it’s cut from a string. 

“It’s my heat,” Felix finally gasps out, heaving deep breaths.

That much Chan had figured out. 

“I know,” Chan says, slightly pained. It feels better to see Felix more relaxed, but it he feels terrible it took him so long to get to the correct conclusion, “I figured that out, I’m sorry it took me so long—,”

Felix cuts him off. 

“No, Jesus, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—, I should have recognized it, hell this morning, when I woke up and wanted to claw my skin off. Shit, I didn’t think it would come so soon, it’s supposed to come next week but I’ve talked about how I get kinda angry near my heat and—.” He cuts himself off this time. Another shiver and deep breath. 

Chan’s just glad the scuffing worked. 

He takes a deep breath as well, exhaling the scent of his partner’s distress and inhaling some peace and semblance of mind.

Only some though — because now that he’s recognized Felix’s scent tonight for what it is, he can already feel his cock fattening up against his thigh for the second time tonight. Which could be helpful for later, but doesn’t feel like the correct move right now. Chan already feels tremendous guilt for getting hard at a frustrated and sweaty Felix in the ring, even if he knows now why it happened. 

(In Chan’s defense, sweaty and half-naked Felixs are like Chan’s personal brand of kryptonite. His cock is Pavlovian trained, almost, to seeing his omega in any state of undress and wanting to jump his bones, worship the very floor he walks on, lie at Felix’s feet and follow his every command. Chan thinks he would have been fighting off a hard-on on a good day.)

“Hush,” he coos, gently ignoring his flagging erection and instead rubbing at the pinched skin of Felix’s neck thumb moving rhythmically in circles, “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“I started a huge fight! I kicked you in the face,” Felix says distraught, looking at him with wide eyes. They sparkle like Felix is holding back angry tears.  

“And you didn’t hurt me baby,” Chan says with a smile, “my nose was always this big.” 

He lays his hand flat against Felix’s nape, pulling them together until their foreheads are touching. He can feel the flutter of Felix’s eyelashes against his face. He can count individual freckles across his flushed cheeks. They swirl in patterns that Chan mentally traces out in his brain. He can hear as Felix’s breathing slows slightly. 

“Now, what do you need baby, tell me what you need,” Chan whispers gently into the humid air between them. He watches the rise and fall of Felix’s chest as he breathes. If he concentrates, he can feel Felix’s heartbeat in his forehead. He takes his hands off Felix’s nape, placing them on Felix’s shoulders; he doesn’t want to influence Felix’s decision. 

“What do I need?” Felix laughs wetly, anxious energy curling back around him with every syllable, “I can’t even get my words to make sense in my head, god I’m so pissed at myself. Tonight is all my fault. How could you possibly be concerned with what I need when I’ve been an emotional dick all night?”  

Now, Chan’s been taking good risks thus far tonight, so he thinks he can wager one more successful bet. He might even win this round completely. He has an idea what Felix needs; it’s what he’s been needing all night. 

A fight. 

A different type, then the sparring they’ve engaged in for the past hour and a half, but a fight nonetheless. He needs to be pushed to the edge and hurled over unceremoniously, violently even. Chan can do that. Chan’s ready to give him that, now that he knows what this is.

“Aww,” Chan coos, tucking a strand of Felix’s hair behind an ear, “my poor little omega, you lose control of your emotions close to your heat, don’t you baby?” 

He secures his thumb and forefinger around Felix’s chin, intent on driving his point home with a harsh tug of Felix’s chin. This time, it’s Chan’s turn to initiate the fight, that way he starts with the upper hand. They’re standing chest to chest. His right hand looks so large splayed across Felix’s small shoulder. 

I got you, he wants to say. I got you — just give in. Give in and Chan knows he can take care of the rest if Felix will let him. Felix gasps — he tenses underneath Chan’s touch, but doesn’t pull away, instead leaning into the dig of Chan’s fingernails on his jaw. So that’s what he wants, Chan thinks triumphantly, for Chan to make him submit. He can feel Felix’s heart stutter under his fingertips. 

Felix has pushed boundaries all night, so far, in fact, Chan thinks he has no more space on his side of the ring anymore; but he can change that. He can push a little harder. Felix likes it when he pushes harder.

“Well? Can you be good or are you already too heat dumb to answer me, little one?” Chan says, raising an eyebrow. 

He leans forward and inhales, open mouthed against Felix’s scent gland. It's the kind of cocky gesture the overconfident creeps at bars try to pull off to stake their claim for the evening. Felix will throw a hard elbow at anyone that dares far before Chan can intervene. 

Felix hates when alphas act like. 

Subsequently, Felix loves when Chan acts like that. Can’t get enough of it. Will fall pliant and willing at Chan’s feet the moment Chan works up the courage to spew the dirty thoughts that rage his mind 24/7 like the filth personally fuels him. That’s not true, Chan amends silently to himself. Sometimes Felix falls willing, other times Felix loves digging his claws into the dirt until the marks he leaves behind are ragged and deep. Chan likes those claw marks. He can smell the arousal on Felix’s scent — potent and cloying. He’s so dumb for missing it before.

Felix takes even measured breaths. His heart beat jack hammers under Chan’s fingertips.

“Wanna share any of the thoughts going on in your pretty little head, baby?” He prompts meanly.

“Fucking hell Chris,” Felix says trembling, “fuck you.” He’s rock hard against Chan’s thigh — which makes Chan feel much better at the way his own cock is digging into Felix’s hip. 

Chan snorts.

“That’s how you’re going to play this sweetheart?” He asks like he hadn’t been expecting this exact play.

(Spoiler alert; he had. He has this part of the Felix playbook memorized.)  

He wraps his right hand loosely around Felix’s throat before flicking Felix’s nipple with his left hand just to feel him gulp. He can’t help but think it looks nice there, his hand. A mark of possession. Chan likes the contrast, his veiny hands against such smooth unblemished skin. His neck would look even better with a mating mark, but Chan’s been trying really hard to take things slow.

He doesn’t want to be the pathetic old man that ties Felix down in his prime. 

Felix’s breath catches in his throat when his grip tightens gently, a jagged inhale that presses Felix’s Adam's apple to the palm of Chan’s hand in short bursts. He’s being slow, deliberately giving space for Felix to back out. Chan would really like to take care of Felix the way that Felix needs it, not the way that Chan’s greed and horniness assumes. He’s been making successful bets all night, but he’d really like confirmation on this one.

“This okay,” Chris says softly — he’s got to make sure.

Felix stares and swallows, looks quite frankly, a little dazed like Chan was the one that kicked him in the head. Chan knows he’s getting hazy, can see it in the way his pupils are dilating and he needs an answer before Felix slips back completely, into just feeling the raw emotions not thinking. It’s a vulnerable space. Chan doesn’t want to trample in, unannounced and uninvited. 

“Safeword baby, I need it.” 

Felix tongues the inside of his cheek. “Starlight,” he says softly, eyes drifting towards Chan’s lips. Chan can feel him vibrating — buzzing with a manic energy that seems to leak from his every pore.

“Good. And you’ll tell me if I’m too much,” he triple checks; he can’t help it. Felix has the energy of a cornered wild animal, and Chan is certain they both won’t come out of this unscathed. But God if he isn’t already aching for those bruises. 

“No, I’m gonna fucking lie to you Chris, just so you can feel guilty ‘bout it later.” Felix spits harshly. 

As to be expected.

Chan figured he’d be like that. It calms down any anxiety in his heart. He smiles, rolling out his shoulders from where they’ve been tense the past few minutes.

It’s fun to give Felix a false sense of security, let him anticipate Chan’s next move. Is Chan deliberately riling up his boyfriend again? Maybe. Planning to edge the hell out of him? Most definitely. He thinks he deserves slight payback for the blows he took earlier and he’s not mean, he’ll reward Felix later of course, but only once he’s a whimpering, begging mess. 

Only once he submits just how Chan likes.

Ultimately that’s what Felix wants too — to be a useful, loving, fertile omega, Chan reasons. They’ve established that together in this space. Chan just needs to now trust his instincts, stop overthinking and just move. Chan’s never been one to play with his food before he eats, but today, that thought is just simply irresistible.

He’ll start by giving Felix a taste of what he wants first. 

It’s easy to use the grip he has on Felix’s throat to push him harshly down to his knees. The non-slip mat they have underfoot is hopefully cushy enough to absorb some of the fall, although Chan knows it’s not comfortable, even if Felix hits the tile with a high-pitched moan from being manhandled. Felix hasn’t wanted to be comfortable all night. 

“Let’s start here, you owe me an apology baby,” he says firmly jerking Felix’s chin forward, “I know a way you can say sorry.”

His hand moves to fist the back of Felix’s head. 

He’s gentle on bleached strands for now, because as much as Felix wants to believe he was born a natural blond the bleaching process has made his scalp sensitive lately. He still digs blunt nails into Felix’s scalp to direct his head to the correct angle. 

Felix looks angelic like this, or demonic, Chan really can’t tell. 

“Harder,” Felix whines like he has a say in how Chan treats him, “‘Make me daddy.” His eyes sparkle with the kinda mischief that brings Chan to his knees on a normal day. 

He wants to be wrecked so bad. 

He gasps harshly when Chan uses his grip to push his head forward, smashing Chan’s cock against a freckled cheek. He uses his free hand to grab his shaft, strip the angry red tip and shaft against Felix’s skin, smearing strings of precum to connect constellations of freckles. 

“I know baby,” Chan coos condescendingly, “I can smell how wet you are. But daddy is gonna play how he wants tonight. You know the rules: daddy knows best.”

He pinches Felix’s jaw with his thumb and forefinger, forcing those pretty puffy pink lips open. Felix’s hiss of pain melts into a whimper, tongue lolling forward. He’s so cute — Chan would destroy him ten times over just to hear him whimper and moan in pleasure. Chan presses his tip to the cushion of Felix’s lips, groans as he grips Felix’s jaw tight to feed himself into wet heat. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Chan moans. It feels like heaven. He knows for Felix too no matter how much he’ll whine soon that it’s not enough. Chan can smell it — how much slick Felix is leaking onto the tiles below him. 

“Honey, your mouth was made for me,” Chan says, reaching to caress the bump in Felix’s cheek where his cock is protruding with probably uncalled for look, sickeningly fond. There’s drool leaking at the corner of Felix’s lips. Chan wipes it away with his thumb and spreads it on his shaft. He’s really not into wasting good things. 

Felix’s eyes look hazy and unfocused and he tongues around Chan’s shaft with a sloppiness that only Felix can make look sexy. 

“I got an idea,” Chan says, as if it’s just occurred to him, “tap my wrist if you want out love, okay? You can handle it, right?”

Felix snorts. He rolls his eyes in dramatic fashion still coherent enough to react to Chan’s cheesiness — the effect of the sass is slightly dampened, considering Felix has unshed tears at his waterline and a cock stuffing his mouth. But then Felix swallows around that cock deliberately moaning when it hits the back of his throat and Chan feels slightly insane. That’s all Chan needs as an answer.

He pulls roughly on blond strands to feel the sudden stutter of Felix’s throat as he pulls out completely, watching the way saliva strings lewdly between his tip and Felix’s lips. He thinks Felix might be gearing up to cuss him out with how long he stares, but he can neither find it in himself to care nor will he let Felix have that opportunity, pushing back swiftly at his own pace in a fast thrust that has Felix breathing in sharply through his nose.

And really, he’s got to hold himself back from coming down Felix’s throat prematurely. Felix is a throat goat on a regular day, so take heat-stricken competitive Felix and challenge him to deep-throat as Chan fucks his face? Makes it a little hard for Felix to breathe? That’s all Felix wants. Chan’s impressed but not surprised — that is his baby after all. 

“That’s it, that’s my boy,” he says, smiling fondly, brushing through Felix’s hair gently. Felix glares and shoots a hand up to tighten Chan’s hold on his hair. Chan snorts, even if moments later he’s circling his base with his forefinger and thumb trying to prevent himself from cumming down Felix’s throat.

He only wins this round if he makes Felix cum a minimum of three times, satiates him enough that he’s pliant and sleepy, and Chan can ferry him home to the comfort of their own room so that he can wreck him even more. 

Felix transitions to suckling his balls, small fingers stroking his shaft. He toys at each ball with his tongue, batting his eyelashes as he looks up at Chan.

“Making me feel so good baby,” Chan groans appreciatively, “fuck— isn’t it making you feel good too, baby? Know how much you liked to be stuffed in both holes. Well, we got one down, ey?” He finishes off teasing. He pulls Felix back by his roots until his teeth can only graze Chan’s tip. There’s spit dribbling down his cheeks that Chan aches to lick up.

Felix nips at his tip again, lightly scraping his teeth. Chan wishes he could say that didn’t just turn him on more.

“There,” Felix says petulantly, “that’s your apology.”

Despite that, he still returns to kitten lick at Chan’s tip. Needy boy. Chan thinks he can only keep up the brat act for so long, Chan will have him down for the count soon enough. He watches as one of Felix’s hands slides down to palm at his own cock: pink and cute and weeping.  

“You know that’s not nearly enough baby,” Chan smiles, reaching a hand to lightly smack at Felix’s cheek and grab his wrist before it can travel farther. He likes the way Felix freezes and flushes at the light taps and thinks maybe a little too long about how many other places he could turn a beautiful pink with a little force. 

He squats on the floor to thread his fingers through Felix’s using his thumb to rub circles into Felix’s palm.

“Why can’t you just fuck me,” Felix mumbles. Whines. Or something of that nature. Chan isn’t listening too hard — listening is a really hard skill when Felix’s lips already look that fucked out and puffy. 

“What’s the fun in that? You’ve wanted a fight all night and now you want me to just roll over and give you what you want? Hmm?” 

“I’m so glad you’re getting the point,” Felix says sarcastically, “and here I thought maybe your stupid alpha brain would get in the way.” 

Chan snorts. It’s a weak punch.  

“I’ll breed your tight pussy later baby boy,” Chan smiles gently, watching the way Felix’s eyes go wide as Chan moves to stand, taking a hand to guide Felix to standing as well. It’s satisfying to watch him flush a deeper scarlet — Felix wears anger and frustration with too much transparency. Chan wonders if he put his lips to Felix’s skin now, if he’d be able to feel the way his heart hummingbirds, caught between agitation and anticipation.

“What do you mean later?” Felix says lowly, eyebrows furrowed, reaching a hand to Chan’s hipbone to steady himself as he gets off the ground.

“We gotta get you home, baby right?” Chan says smoothly, his tone dripping with faux-innocence. “We can’t let someone see you like this!” 

He goes to turn around. 

Felix’s nails feel delicious clawing into the skin of his forearm. He really has to try hard to hold in his satisfied smile as he turns to look at Felix again. 

“No. Chris, I can’t wait that long. I want it now.” Felix demands, agitation clear in his voice.

“Baby, I’m not knotting you in a public locker room,” Chan says calmly. Like they both don’t know he’s lying through his teeth. He’ll buckle as soon as Felix so much as asks. He’s just got to ask nicely. 

“Don’t act like you don’t get off to being caught in public,” Felix laughs decisively.

“Not today little one,” Chan hums. He takes a single step backwards. 

“Chris,” Felix warns. 

It’s so perfect, Chan thinks. How well they’ve gotten to know each other, know when to push and prod. Right now, Chan’s taking a hot branding iron right to Felix just to see if Felix will pull away from the heat, or willfully burn his own skin. 

“Christoper, don’t you fucking dare or I’ll—.” Felix demands crossly digging his nails into skin harshly.

“You’ll do what?” Chan mocks, “or what? What are you able to do against me?” 

Chan can’t help but think the veins that pulse in Felix’s neck when he’s well and truly pissed, the way he tongues at the inside of his cheek, all of it, is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Do what? Hmm?” Chan prods, “you know I always win baby.” 

The punch that Felix’s launches is sloppy compared to his earlier ones, lacking the preciseness in which Felix is able to move usually. Chan catches it easily, folding his fingers around Felix’s small fist. 

“Motherfucker—,” Felix spits, but Chan knows a successful way to shut up cranky Lee Felixs and the very little self-control he has is slipping. He is after all, but a weak, weak man. He pulls Felix forward abruptly, smashing their lips together. He sucks Felix’s top lip into his mouth and runs his tongue along the back of his front teeth. He wants to devour Felix whole.  

Felix’s protests die on Chan’s tongue. 

“Fuck, sunshine, you know I can’t resist you, it’s so unfair. God I can taste myself on you, fuck—,” Chan moans, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the drying spit on Felix’s cheeks. He bullies him against the wall, pressing Felix back until he has nowhere to escape but through. Felix hisses as he hits the cold tile, swinging his other hand up to potentially shove Chan back even if he’s kissing back just as fervently. 

Chan uses his grip on Felix’s hand to spin him around, pressing his freckled cheek into cold tile with a hand on the back of his head and tucking Felix’s right arm against the small of his back. Pinned like this, Felix struggles less, mouth opening and closing uselessly like he’s stuck between cussing Chan out and moaning. It’s easy to slide his cock into the wet crease of Felix’s ass. 

In all fairness, Chan would fuck him in the showers if he had less self-control, but the practical side of him thinks of how many ways they both could slip and fall and crack their heads open, so getting Felix out of the shower and onto dry ground is imperative. He has no qualms about knotting Felix in a public locker room, he’d just like to stay safe and unhurt doing it. 

“Baby, you’re wet enough I could slide right in, I know you can feel how bad I want you, too,” Chan marvels, he gathers Felix’s other wrist and tugs it behind his back. Using one hand to hold Felix’s wrists is more than enough, so he lets his free hand wander. His hand is big enough on Felix’s small frame that he can easily spread Felix’s left cheek with his thumb to see the way slick is coating skin. It’s not the best angle to see Felix’s hole, but he can definitely feel the way it flutters against him when he presses his hips forward. 

“Then fucking do it, don’t be a bitch—,” Felix growls, pressing his hips back as best he can.  

“Baby I want to so bad, but you know that’s not the rules,” Chan chides. It ends in a slight whine. He paws at Felix’s hips and noses at the back of his neck, much like a sad puppy for attention. Because he is a sad puppy. Felix is intentionally making this difficult. 

“Fuck the rules,” Felix hisses.

“You don’t mean that baby,” Chan frowns. 

“It’s my heat,” Felix counters. 

Chan hums, “and last time I checked, this was my hole to use,” Chan breathes hot across the shell of Felix’s ear, “so you’ll take what I give you.” 

“I hate you,”  Felix growls, fingertips flexing in Chan’s hold. He doesn’t really. Chan clicks his tongue. 

“No you don’t babe,” Chan says, “you love me, you love that I know how far to push you, you love when daddy makes choices for you. You love when daddy plays with you.”

He whispers the words into the hair behind Felix’s ears, sneaking a free hand across the smaller boys abdomen and circling his fingers around a dusty, pert nipple. Felix keens, presses himself into Chan’s touch when he latches and pulls. He toys with either side, fascinated by the moans Felix desperately tries to hold back while he body pulses forward into Chan’s touch.

It’s so distracting it takes him a moment to realize with the way Felix’s hips twitch forward that his boy is using the tile to put friction on his cock, and that just won’t do. 

“Uh uh, baby I didn’t give you permission to rub your little clit, did I?” He tuts, pulling Felix’s hips back, bending him forward. Felix growls trying to pitch away from Chan’s grip to get friction on his cock once more. 

Unluckily, in a match of raw strength, Felix is outclassed, and Chan grips his hip with an intensity that he’s sure will leave purpling bruises behind.

“And as for choices, what if, today I just want to come between your pretty thighs while you beg for something more? Hmm?” Chan smiles. He rubs his cock on the underside of Felix’s balls, delighting in the tremors he can see run through Felix’s thighs. “What if I get myself off then force you to wait our entire car ride home? Empty and craving me?” 

“You wouldn’t,” Felix says breathlessly. He finally has a nervousness to his voice that makes Chan’s blood feel like it’s boiling. 

“With this attitude I might,” Chan admonishes, ”You know the rules, only good boys get what they want. So say it, and maybe I’ll give you the tip. Does that sound good, baby?”

“I want more than the tip, I deserve more,” Felix says impatiently, pushing his hips back. His hair is stuck in a wet spider web of a mess across his head and face. It doesn’t curl like Chan’s does when it starts to dry. Instead it lays there like Felix is some sort of painting, each stand perfectly placed. Even disheveled Felix looks like he belongs on the cover of Vogue. Chan would be jealous, but he gets to fuck Felix, so he’s really the winner here. 

Felix grunts as Chan stays stationary, wiggling his hips back, but he loses a little balance in the process, his cheek sliding against the wall. Chan thinks he’s seen nothing prettier. 

He decides to grant his baby some reprieve. 

He pulls Felix’s hips flush with his cock, letting go of one of Felix’s wrists. He guides Felix’s free hand to the shower hardware, wrapping his little fingers around the sleek metal so that Felix has a hand to steady himself. Because he’s really going to need a hand to steady himself. 

Chan gives him no warning before bringing his hand down on Felix’s ass. He viscerally remembers the first time Felix had whimpered, “hit me,” and how it had lit every nerve ending Chan had. Possibly created thousands of new synapses in Chan’s brain. His beautiful little one, wanting only to be broken by Chan. What power to give a man.Too much power to give a man. 

Felix bites back his wail out of spite but his scent, his scent doesn’t lie. It floods the room, rich and decadent. 

“That won’t do,” Chan says, “how many more do you think it’ll take, hmm? Five? Fifteen? Just say what I want you to baby.” He soothes the reddened skin with his hands, tracing a splotch of freckles on Felix’s back hip fondly. 

“Chr—,” 

Chan doesn’t let him finish the word. He hits the other cheek with equal force, then alternates back to the original sensitive skin of Felix’s left cheek.

“No,” He says calmly, “try again.”

“Fuck, you cunt.”

“So fifteen?” Chan hums, landing a blow on the underside of Felix’s cheeks just to see the jiggle. Sue him, he’s an ass man through and through. 

“Fifteen?!” Felix yelps. 

“I’ll be nice and say you’ve already done four. So eleven,” Chan smiles. He doesn’t wait for a response before landing another hit. It’s stupidly loud in the empty locker room. Chan thinks he could, in other circumstances, come just from listening to the lewd sounds. He lands two more before Felix is gasping. 

“— fuck,” Felix exhales harshly, “w-wait wait wait— p-please.” 

Chan smiles; that’s half of what he needs. 

“Close baby,” he hums. He sneaks a hand up Felix’s tummy, plucks hard at an already sore nipple.

“Please— please just—,” Felix whimpers, pressing the slightly swollen bud into Chan’s fingers. Maybe he thinks that with a handful of Felix’s tits Chan will give in. It’s a valid strategy most days.

He soothes his hand down Felix’s front again, stops at the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock. His fists his hand loosely around Felix’s shaft before landing his next hit on Felix’s ass. The blonde jerks in his hand, gets exactly two solid ruts into Chan palm before Chan is removing his hand.

“Shit! Fucking shit. P-please. Please can you give me the tip?” Felix hiccups while asking, exhaling at the end like it’s punched out of him.

“I thought you said you deserved more,” Chan says, prying Felix’s cheeks open to press his thumb into Felix’s fluttering hole. It sucks in his fingertip greedily and Chan can feel the last threads of his self control snapping. 

He spits directly into the tight ring of muscle, groaning as Felix’s scent flares. Felix just needs a little more — another gentle shove and he’s right where Chan wants him. He presses his thumb in until the first knuckle as he fists the hair on the back of Felix’s head and pulls roughly. He brings them back to front as Felix lets out a near pornographic moan.

He knew hair-pulling would come in clutch. 

“D-daddy fuck-k fuck— I don’t, I don’t deserve more,” Felix simpers, trying to push his hips back to suck in Chan’s thumb deeper. He looks so fucking beautiful like this, back curved in a desperate arch, hips moving in no specific rythym, just chasing pleasure. 

“And why is that baby?” Chan says, licking greedily at Felix’s scent gland. “What’s the rule? You need to tell me little one.” 

“Because— because, shit,” Felix moans, as Chan replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. He fits it snug against Felix’s rim, toying with the fluttering muscle,  “fuck, Chris be nice— l-let me think,” 

“Nope.”

“Fuckfuck—,” Felix swears as Chan presses his hips forward teasingly. 

“Say it.” 

He notches his cock in, allowing the head to just barely breach. It takes one more open palm hitting Felix’s skin for him to sob.  

“Fucking— because, because daddy knows best,” Felix says, “because daddy knows best.” 

Chan is so proud.

“I know that was hard baby, such a prideful little one you are, especially like this,” Chan coos. He feels a little dizzy looking at the flush on Felix’s skin. At his bare neck. A little tip never hurt anything, right? 

“Yes,” Felix exclaims, “please, daddy— just the tip— I’ll be good—,” 

He must have said that part of that out loud. 

“Okay,” Chan hums, “just a little honey.” He kisses Felix’s shoulder blade lightly, guiding his shaft into Felix’s fluttering hole. It opens up beautifully wet as he slides his cock forward. The heat is so electrifying he can’t hold back his own moan as he fits his tip inside, snug. He has to physically hold himself back from not slamming the rest in. 

“But just for a second baby, we need to get out of the showers where it’s slippery. You understand, right?” He hopes that comes out comforting and in control, and not how breathless and unhinged Chan feels. 

Felix responds by cuming with a violent shiver moaning high and reedy. Chan thinks that could mean anything from a yes to a I don’t give a fuck. But quite frankly, Chan doesn’t even really care. 

“There you go,” Chan breathes, as Felix settles. He doesn’t know when his own eyes shut closed, but he opens them again, to watch Felix’s thighs twitch and tremble before going completely slack, tension melting from his body. He’s lucky Chan has a good hold on him. 

“Don’t know why you struggle so much baby,” Chan mumbles, tracing the tip of his nose and tongue across sweaty skin to taste the salt, “when you know this is what you need. Look at you, all fucked out and you’ve only taken a little bit of me.”

Felix hums, content, at least for now. He tips his head back onto Chan’s shoulder and flutters his eyelashes like the little devil he is. Chan snorts.

But it’s calming, momentarily, to be connected like this, it’s like stepping inside of your home after a tumultuous day at work. Chan takes a few moments just to breathe, focus on the feeling of Felix’s shoulder digging into his forehead and Felix’s hold squeezing him so hot and perfect. 

And at first, Felix is true to his word. He’s good. He warms Chan’s cock keeping his hips still, hiccuping little sighs. But that only lasts for so long — first it’s one wiggle, then it’s several, and before Chan knows it, Felix is moving his hips back, inching in more of Chan’s shaft as subtly as he can, coaxing little punched moans out of himself.

A little gremlin through and through. 

Here Chan was, all at peace, but apparently Felix still has some fight in him.  

Chan clicks his tongue and spins Felix back around, easily ignoring his upset cry at being empty once again. Chan agrees — he feels like a livewire, his cock pulsing dangerously. But unfortunately bad behavior always has to be addressed, if you give Felix an inch he will take a mile. Or in this case, attempt to take Chan’s whole cock without permission, even though Chan’s been so nice and already let him come once. 

He presses Felix’s back to the tile and watches the way Felix’s pretty pink cock bobs across his stomach, flush and leaking.

He meets Felix’s gaze.

“You motherfucker,” Felix. 

Chan doesn’t dignify a response to that. This time, he smacks at Felix’s left tit, hard enough to watch the soft skin and muscle recoil. Felix doesn’t even attempt to hide his whine of “shit.” He wonders if Felix will grow actual tits when he’s pregnant with Chan’s pups. He can’t linger on that thought for too long lest they’ll never get out of these fucking showers. 

He slides his nails down defined abs and watches the red bloom on Felix’s skin, paints an odd connect the dots picture of red and Felix’s freckles, before taking a gentle hold on Felix’s cock the lightest friction. 

“You're not being very good little one.”

Felix bucks his hips forward, smirking. 

“Good thing daddy doesn’t like good boys,” Felix pants. He arches his back, head rolling to his shoulder lazily against tile as he pushes his small hips and cock forward. He supports himself on his shoulder blades, swiveling his hips back and forth. It brushes their cocks together lightly. The slide is already wet from Felix’s spent covering his own cock.  

It takes Chan a few hot seconds to realize he’s staring again, for maybe the umpteenth time. For him to physically tear his vision away from Felix’s smaller cock brushing his own, from the slim taper of Felix’s waist, and from the tense clench of his core. 

When he finally unglues himself from the scene unfolding, and meets Felix’s gaze, he has to stop himself from cuming on the spot — Felix stares up at him through his stupidly long lashes, and fluffy bangs, with his chest heaving as he pants, and Chan doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful in the world. There couldn’t possibly be anything as beautiful as his baby, sweating, panting and needy, but still confident, sexy and self-assured. 

“You little shit,” Chan growls. 

He doesn’t give Felix time to think, just presses forward and grabs Felix’s by the underside of his thighs, hauls him up until Felix gets the message and slings his arms around Chan’s shoulders and his legs around Chan’s hips.

Chan makes sure his forearm and hand take the most of the hit as he presses Felix back against the tile, only removing it from behind Felix’s back when he’s sure Felix is supported. 

“Ah-ah daddy fuck—,”

“You always do this, try to take back control from me baby,” Chris growls, “with your little lash flutters and fucking wicked tongue, you’re an absolute menace—,”

Chan wishes he could say he had more finesse, but quite frankly the only thoughts in his brain are how fast can he get his cock buried into Felix’s sweet heat. It takes some fumbling, but he’s able to align his tip in the perfect position, popping his head back into Felix’s tight hole and causing them both to groan. 

“— is this what you wanted, hmm? You’ll have even more bruises tomorrow if I fuck you here. You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Beg for me to make them hurt more.” 

“Fuck— yes, Daddy—,” 

“You won this round baby, you’ve got daddy’s cock in you, but I got so many more rounds in me.”

He grips Felix’s cheeks tightly apart and slowly lowers Felix’s body weight down, spearing Felix on his cock. By the way Felix’s ankles start to cricket behind Chan’s back he knows Felix is fighting off another orgasm, feels the crest of pleasure with each push of Chan’s cock. Chan prefers to be agonizingly slow — enjoys the drag, savoring in each little sensation. He also might enjoy the way Felix will get impatient, whine and cry, bitch and moan, begging Chan to go a little faster, harder—

His baby is demanding like that, but Chan’s more than willing to spoil him.  

The last inch Chan presses his hips forward sharply; he wants to make sure he can get as deep as possible, connecting their bodies together as close as possible. He gets in one slow, purposeful grind and Felix is already scratching at his back, shivering in his arms as he comes again between the both of them. For someone so vocal, Felix is silent when he comes, lips parted as he gasps for air. Chan likes that part the best, that he can reduce his non-stop talker, chatty boyfriend to speechlessness. It does wonders for his ego every time. 

“There you go,” Chan whispers, taking an light hold of Felix’s cock, just to hear him whimper, over stimulated. 

He allows Felix to ride the aftershocks, keeps his hips deep and buried, and sucks a bruise or four into Felix’s collarbone. His back stings from scratch marks but it’s oddly grounding, it reminds him this moment is real — there’s sweat drying on the small of his back, there’s wet tile under his feet, and he’s got Felix in his arms. He’s not quite sure there’s anything more he could want in his life. 

Felix’s body sags into his own but Chan knows, it won’t be long until he’s wiggly again. At least fully seated on Chan’s cock he’s less demanding and a little more pliant. Chan uses the time to extract them both from the shower. 

He’s careful not to jostle where they’re connected, holding Felix tight to his body as he makes his way back closer to their lockers. They’re in a small cove in the corner, the room purposefully designed to section off small parts to provide privacy. Chan thanks every higher power he knows that the benches are wider; Japanese-inspired wood slats giving the bench more stability. He’s able to fish out two towels from his gym bag with only one hand, which feels like a feat itself, and plops down onto the bench. 

Felix nuzzles into his chest, stirring slightly. He tongues lazily at Chan’s pulse points, much more part cat than wolf. 

“You haven’t come daddy,” Felix says finally, his voice soft. 

“This is not about me baby,” Chan smiles, pressing his nose into the wild fluff of Felix’s hair — it sticks up oddly from drying at weird angles, looks like ruffled feathers of a newborn chick. 

“No,” Felix yawns, “but it is about me.” He grinds his hips in small circles, using what little leverage he has by putting weight onto his shins on the bench. 

Chan digs his nose deep into Felix’s fluff and inhales. So it’s already round three. 

“Daddy— want you to come, you took such good care of me, such a good alpha,” Felix whines, hands kneading at Chan’s shoulder blades absentmindedly. Like it’s calming for him to dig his hands into the meat of Chan’s body, like if he presses and prods hard enough he can climb right into Chan’s skin. Chan would like that. 

Felix circles his hips in a slow grind and Chan remembers just how hard he is, the drag of hot walls pressing into his shaft euphoric. 

“Such good care of me,” Felix purrs, “lemme help you.”

“You just want my knot,” Chan hums, enjoying the unhurried roll of Felix’s hips.

Felix giggles, dipping his forehead to rest against Chan’s collarbone. He slows his grind but presses his hips forward, so Chan can sink that much deeper. His eyes have somehow closed again, which just helps him focus on Felix’s hot breath on his neck and lips at his pulse point. 

“You could do it you know? I’d let you,” Felix whispers, kitten licking the sweat at Chan’s jaw bone. Felix’s eyes look dilated again, hazy as he pulls away and traces a vein, delicate fingers pressing into skin so hard that Felix must embarrassingly feel Chan’s irregular heartbeat. He must definitely feel the way it leaps when Felix tilts his head and bares his neck again, lazy and panting. 

“Whenever, wherever you want,” Felix whispers, “I want it so bad, more than anything, for you bite me, make me your mate— please.” 

Chan has a hard time denying Felix anything. 

“I could do it first? I thought of it,” Felix says, “the perfect spot on your neck. I could show you where I want mine?”  

Chan’s breath hitches. 

It won’t take, if Felix goes first. An alpha has to initiate; some archaic genetic relic that’s stayed in their bloodstreams. It won’t take but it makes Chan’s blood boil. It won’t take but Chan itches to feel the sting of Felix’s canines. It won’t take but that doesn’t mean Chan doesn’t feel a little crazy at the thought of it taking. 

“Yeah, you wanna show me,” Chan whispers indulgent, fingers once again digging into Felix’s hips. Felix’s bounces become harsher and a little more sloppy. “Show me where you’d want it baby, so daddy knows.” 

Felix mewls, sucking bruises into Chan’s collarbone. He brushes Felix’s hair from his shoulder keeping his own head tilted, inviting. His fingers brush back at Felix’s nape, pressing lightly. 

Felix moans once again pink and flushed. Chan’s just glad this time, they’re not on wet, slippery tile. 

“Right here,” Felix mumbles as he tongues at a spot right below Chan’s left ear, “wan’ it right here.” 

“Is that where you’ll put mine too, baby?” Chan questions, enjoying each nip to his skin. His neck is probably mauled at this point — he can already imagine the damage, so really, what’s a little bit more added on top?

He can feels Felix drooling. 

“Go ahead baby, bite. You want to, right?”

He gives a silent apology to the security guard out front, because there’s no way they’re leaving this place with any sort of decency now.

Felix bites, drool pooling into Chan’s skin and Chan swears he could come from that alone. From Felix’s canines dug into his scent gland, whining high pitched and needy in his ear. He doesn’t even realize he’s grabbed ahold of Felix’s hips to help him bounce, achieve long strokes on Chan’s cock until he feels the telltale signs that his knot is forming. He bucks his hips upward and holds Felix’s teeth to his skin. 

“Fuck daddy,” Felix moans when he unlatches, forehead falling into Chan’s shoulder. He looks like a rag doll, body limp as Chan bounces him on his cock. “Please me too— me too—.” 

Chan groans. 

“You know I can’t do that baby, not here,” Chan says, holding on to the last vestiges of his sanity. “wants to do it properly, baby. You deserve it properly.” 

”No— you hate me,” Felix wails, rutting his hips down. Chan can tell he’s tired but he’s desperately trying to fit the beginnings of Chan’s knot into his hole. “Why do you hate me?”

“Silly boy,” Chan says, rolling his eyes. “You know I love you.” 

”Then give me your knot, and I know you’re not lying. That’s how I know you’re not lying.” 

“Manipulative baby,” Chan moans, sinking a little bit deeper into the heat of Felix’s body. His knot pops past Felix’s rim, “and here I thought you liked me for my heart.” 

“Like you for both, like all of you. Daddy— please. Every part. Please, I’ve been good.”

Chan is at his tipping point; he can feel it in the way pleasure builds up his spine and his balls tighten. 

His breath ghosts Felix’s neck, right under his left ear. 

“Right there, yeah?” He says licking the spot. Vanilla bursts potent into his mouth. He doesn’t wait for Felix to respond. “Yeah. Right here it’ll look so pretty. You’re so pretty. Can you come for me one more time? One more sunshine?” He notches his canines against a pulsing vein. 

“Oh fuck—, yes—,”

“Come on daddy’s knot then baby. Come and I’ll fill you up.”

His hips build a punishing rhythm and Felix wails louder. “Oh fuck, right there right there,” he babbles, fingers scrambling for purchase. 

“God, I love you so much Lix,” Chan moans, he can feel his own wave cresting, buries his hips deep and bites. Not hard enough to take, but hard enough that Felix is spilling between them with a loud cry, shaking in Chan’s arms. 

“Shitshitshit— love you, I love you so much Chris— Chris, I love you.” 

Chan rides out his own orgasm, hips buried deep in wet heat and mouth latched onto his omega’s neck, because Felix is his, mark or no mark. 

He’s won — this round, today, in life, all of it. As long as he has Felix, he wins in every situation possible. 

As long as Felix is his, it’s a total fucking knockout.