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“Dad! Careful with that, it has my switch and games in it!”
The neighbourhood was mostly quiet, the rustling of tree leaves paired with the huffs and puffs of Jisung’s family as they unpacked his car were the only noises that occupied the space. Given it was a Sunday, it was likely that everyone else was at church. He appreciated the silence after having spent several months in a city that seemingly never slept or halted its movements. The familiar lull of a suburban area was calming, grounding even.
“How did you manage to double the amount of things you own in only nine months?” His brother had a point, but Jisung couldn’t help it! He had no adult supervision, a bank card, and the entirety of Seoul to shop through. How could he be expected to not spend money?
Okay, Maybe the box labelled ‘Dino Figures’ were unnecessary purchases but they made him happy and that's all that matters to Jisung. “Just hand them over, will you?”
After an hour or so, Jisung was officially unpacked and moved back into his parents house for the summer and feeling downright neutral about it. There’s a part of him that was already counting down the days until his return train to Seoul, in two months, and planning out all the things he could do with his university friends—there was an arcade he wanted to show Seungmin. The other half of him was happy to be home, surrounded by his family, childhood friends and the sense of comfort that you can only find on the streets you grew up on. It wasn’t the fast pace, endless lights of the city but it was home and that was enough for now.
His bedroom didn’t look like a twenty year old inhabited it – a shelf lined with dinosaur figures, matching dinosaur bedsheets and walls covered with an assortment of anime, and music posters. It did, however, look like Jisung’s personality threw up all over it, and that made him happy. He’d never been one to shy away from his interests, nor hide them at all.
“Ah, forgot about this.” Dust lined the frame, but the picture was in pristine condition. A tinier version of Jisung, sat on the shoulders of an older man whose hands were keeping him steady by the knees. Jisung’s chin was planted comfortably in the curls atop his head, grinning so hard his lips disappeared into the top of his mouth. An equally wide, dimple-showing smile was mirrored on the man’s lips as they posed for the camera.
“You were so happy that day, couldn’t stop showing off your cool ‘uncle’ Chan to all the kids in the park.” The soft tone of Jisung’s mother at his door broke him out of his wistful daydream, placing the picture back down with a shrugged reaction to the words, “You were always so enamoured by him, thought he was the coolest guy in the world. I think your dad was jealous, not that he’d ever admit it.”
“Dad had no reason to be jealous.”
That last bit stung just a little. As a kid, Jisung was attached to his dad like a limb that had strayed off and ached to be re-attached. His first words were ‘appa’, he crawled towards his dad with all the might his little body could muster-up before anyone else. The sound of his dad’s voice was the only thing that could soothe his night terrors, or make the mystery monsters under his bed go away.
His dad was his best friend, his other half. The man he looked up to, wanted to be in every way and stole so many aspects of his personality from. Anime and dinosaurs included. Jisung’s decision to pursue music production is all because of his dad.
Chan, on the other hand, was the man that caused little Jisung to look-up ‘boys kissing’ and ‘am i gay???’ quizzes on the family computer, followed by a panic induced sweat when trying to delete those searches from the history. He was also the reason why Jisung’s sexual partners could pass for that of nursing home residents. Maybe not that old but far too old for him anyways.
Jisung had admired him from a distance, always being kept at arms length.
Chan was also Jisung’s first, and only, heartbreak, moving back to Australia a few weeks before the boy turned eighteen. Leaving an inconsolable, locked-in his room for weeks on end, Jisung. That’s also when the younger boy had decided to apply for universities outside of his town, moving away from the place that was haunted by the older man.
They played two completely different roles in his life.
“Well, this is as good a time as any to mention that Chan is actually coming to your welcome home party in a few days!”
The thud of Jisung’s body hitting his bed in one sudden movement echoed the room, eyes snapping back over to his mother as the words registered. “He’s back in Korea?"
♪‧₊˚
“And now, he’s suddenly back! Out of nowhere!”
Jisung had paced the entire length of his room about seven times now, phone perched against his ear as he rambled off about the audacity of Chan to a very nosy Felix.
“Maybe he just happens to be visiting. Oooh! It’s like fate!” Felix, ever the romantic, always found a way to spin situations and wrap a pretty bow around them ceremoniously.
Jisung let out an annoyed groan at the sentiment. “It’s not fate, Lix. It’s rude, he left years ago, no goodbye or word since except pleasantries for the holidays or birthdays.” The framed picture glared back at Jisung, tearing his eyes away as he spoke again, ”Is he expecting me to simply… welcome him back?”
“Look at it this way, Jisungie. You are twenty now, this could be your chance, y’know!”
Jisung regretted ever telling Felix about this hopeless crush, his friend ran on pure delusion and self-confidence through life. It was admirable, and worked out well for him but Jisung not so much. “You think I can just seduce my dad’s best friend of forty years? It would ruin everything, my dad would stop funding my school! Then you’d never be able to see me. Could you live without me, Lixie?”
“Maybe time apart would do you two some good.” Jeongin’s voice came through Jisung’s airpods, along with the sounds of rustling sheets and light, airy giggles from Felix.
Jisung prayed that Jeongin hadn’t just heard that conversation, though knowing Felix he’d hear all about it soon enough. “You are just jealous that your boyfriend prefers talking to me.” The grin that swept Jisung’s face could no doubt be heard dripping into his words, even through a call.
“And, how about we start that time apart now? Bye Jisung.” A few fading sorry’s filled the silence before the call-end sound rang out, causing Jisung to roll his eyes in faux annoyance.
Though the call had been over for a few minutes now, Felix’s words repeated like a malfunctioning vinyl in Jisung’s mind. He wouldn’t lie to himself, of course the thought of finally getting Chan in bed had crossed his mind over the years. Especially as a teenager, being the very thing that fuelled his late-night–hours long–masturbation sessions.
But, it had always been a dream, a fantasy. Something to fill his daydreams during boring classes, or long car rides. Sometimes in Chan’s car, sitting in the passenger seat and wondering if they’d fit in the back together.
However, Chan wasn’t a creep. He was a good guy, the best man Jisung had ever met–aside from his own father–so nothing ever happened. Jisung always hoped, prayed that the older man would show even a tiny sign of mutual attraction and yet it never came. Nor should it have, Jisung knows realistically, but his brain was running on lust and puberty at the time.
None of that matters now though, Jisung is an adult. He’s twenty, and experienced. This is his chance to show Chan what he’s been missing out on, and change his life forever. If it doesn’t work, they’ll just not talk again – like the last year or so. It’s now or never.
♪‧₊˚
The next few days were a blur of settling back in, home cooked meals with his family and catch-ups with hometown friends that pestered Jisung for hours on end about all the adventures he’s having without them. He’s missed that sense of familiarity, being around people that you just click with due to the years of friendship foundation. There’s nothing quite like growing up with someone.
The closer it got to the weekend—two days away—the more wild the butterfly habitat in Jisung’s stomach became. The outfit had already been picked, plus sent to Felix for approval, and his hair had been freshly dyed by a family friend. A shade of burgundy that dims and shines around the light. Pairs well with his honey kissed skin.
For now, there was nothing he could do but wait.
“Jisungie, you should put trousers on before leaving your room.” His dad’s voice was softer than usual, bags under his eyes indicating a severe lack of sleep. Jisung’s heart aches at that.
With a quick glance, Jisung realised that he had forgotten his trousers upstairs. Thankfully remembering a t-shirt and boxers at least. “Dad, it’s just me and you! Since when do you care?” The mechanical whirring of the coffee machine on the counter caused a grin to bloom across Jisung’s face, walking in a way that almost looked like skipping as he made his way over and grabbed a cup.
“It’s not just you and I-” Before his dad could finish the sentence, the sound of a voice Jisung could recognise in a room of millions caused his body to revert back to factory settings.
“Minho, I brought these back from–Jisung!” The cat plushes in the man’s hands hit the tiled flooring with a gentle thud, which he scrambled to pick-up in a hastily way, much to the confusion of Jisung and Minho. “You’re… here!”
Jisung swore for the faintest second that Chan’s gaze flickered to his crotch and even trailed Jisung’s body as he rose back to his feet, the morning wood in the younger’s boxers still taking its time to settle. Then again, Jisung convinces himself it’s just the angle, his mind playing tricks. Surely.
“Yeah I–uh–got home on Monday, here for the summer.”
Chan almost looked like a stranger – his hair was longer, fully silver now as opposed to the mere streaks he had the last time Jisung saw him. Some wrinkles were more prominent, especially the creases around his eyes and the sunken smile lines. He’s been happy. That’s good. The handsomeness that caused so many years of feverish fascination remained, if anything it’s just intensified with age. Jisung would always compare Chan to a wolf as a kid, collecting wolf-plushes to represent his ‘uncle’ and cats for his dad. That comparison seemed even more fitting with his tinted fur now.
“Chan-ah, you’re coming to his party in a few days. Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” His dad’s head was on a tilt, eyes shifted to mirror that of a curious cat. Observing, not quite sure what to make of the situation just yet.
“Right, right,” This nervous side of Chan was one that Jisung hadn’t ever seen before, or maybe didn’t pick up on as a kid as much, “It’s just been awhile, it’s good to see you, kiddo.”
Kiddo – The nickname that Jisung loved when he was younger, but caused a sickening feeling within him now.
“Yeah, it’s good to see you. I should probably go… get changed. But, I’ll see you on Saturday, mm?” Eye-contact was being purposely avoided at all costs by both men, Jisung just stirring his coffee over and over and over. The sugar was long dissolved by now.
“Oh, yeah totally! I wouldn't miss it for the world.” There was an eagerness, a slither of authenticity in his words that Jisung hangs onto.
‘But, you’ve already missed so much.’ Jisung bit back from saying, instead just politely smiling as he manoeuvred past both men and shot up the stairs in an abrupt movement. The sounds of their voices grew fainter the further he got completely drowned out once his door was shut.
The morning wood had sprouted into a fully grown tree now, a wet-patch forming in the area where his tip met the material. If he’d waited any longer he would’ve been caught, “Oh.”
The lock on Jisung’s bedroom door has never been more of a god-send than it was right now, turning himself to place his coffee down before securing the lock in place. There were two options right now – masturbate on his bed, or in the en-suite bathroom shower. Given his inability to be quiet, the latter seemed more appealing at the moment so he stripped his boxers fully off and made his way in.
Jisung’s chest was already flush when the hot water hit him, a pinkness reaching the surface as his mind replayed the image of a flustered Chan from moments ago. His hand wrapped eagerly around his fully-hard cock, the other on the shower-wall for stability as the pumping movements became frantic almost immediately. All remnants of control were lost.
The older man looked so fucking good, too good. Any hesitation Jisung had about his plans to seduce him were completely overwritten by a carnal desire to ruin Chan, make every sexual experience he’s ever had, or will have, feel inadequate in comparison. Leaving him reliant on Jisung and the memories of their time together, for pleasure.
It didn’t take much for Jisung’s body to get worked up when it came to Chan, the spring of orgasm was tightening for release with every second that passed, pre-cum gushing out the slit of his cock and onto the wall. “Fuck you, Chan. Fuck your–ahh–plush lips.” The lips that should be around his cock right now, servicing him, making up for the lost time.
Every inch of his cock was pulsing with need, a longing to dump his load into the hole of a stupidly breedable older man. He just knew Chan would take it so well, let Jisung fuck it deeper inside him. He still had that same plump ass at this age. Maybe they’d even use the buttplug Jisung bought a few weeks ago. That was the thought that sent Jisung over the edge, praying the running water does enough to cover the way he full body moans, “Chan!” His orgasm was the best it’s been in years, knees wobbling a little as the cum spilled out of him and down the shower drain.
The high settled down as Jisung took the time to actually wash himself, thoughts still racing with the endless possibilities of what could–will–happen at the party. He’s going to get Chan back for abandoning him, and show him exactly why he should stick around.
♪‧₊˚
Most people in attendance at this party couldn’t tell you Jisung’s name nor pick him out of a lineup, but he preferred it that way. It was largely populated by his parent’s colleagues, neighbours and members of the local church board that his mother was a part of. This made it easier for him to blend in, skate by on idle small talk and the occasional person actually asking him personal questions about his time away from home. The only issue was, Chan still wasn’t here and the party started an hour ago.
“Jisung? Can you help your father with the food?” His mother entered the living room, a tray of drinks in hand. Happily accepting two, Jisung also placed a kiss atop her head and nodded as he made his way to the kitchen. The boy held back on asking why he should have to help serve at his own party, because honestly, the boredom was getting to him and time with his father sounded nice right now.
The smell of his father’s cooking was how Jisung imagined love would smell, so rich in care and tender dedication. Much like everything his father touched. “Ah, Sungie. Can you start plating those dumplings for me? My hands are full.” The man was dressed smartly, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows temporarily as he worked over the stove. It was a familiar sight, including the cat wrapping himself around the man’s leg.
“Dori! Leave dad alone, he’s busy.” Jisung’s foot came up to the cat, gently swatting the air around him to shoo him away from Minho but to little avail. Clingy thing.
The decision to wear an all black outfit suddenly felt like the wrong one, all the steam in the room clinging to Jisung’s body as he began to plate the dumplings as best he could. The flushness of his face was hopefully being concealed by the light makeup he’d worn, blush applied under both eyes to accentuate his doe-eyes even more. According to Felix anyways. The original outfit had included a more high-cut top, not quite crop, but he wanted to leave some things a surprise for later. “Is Chan still coming, dad?”
“Should be. I haven’t heard otherwise?” The over-bubbling pot soon stole his father’s attention again, leaving Jisung to fiddle aimlessly with the food in front of him as his eyes darted to the front-door within eyeshot. Curse this open-plan layout taunting him.
When Jisung was younger, Chan always came the evening before and spent all hours of the night preparing the parties with Jisung’s dad. They would come up with unique themes each year, no detail was left out, everything had to be perfect. Jisung’s fondest memory is the ‘Howls Moving Castle’ party that they’d planned for his fifteenth birthday, even giving the boy a full Howl costume to wear.
The first drink he’d taken from his mother was quickly downed, followed by the second in an attempt to flush out the butterflies roaming around the pit of his stomach. It had little effect, borderline none at all, and frustrated the boy as his father passed by him with two plates in hand. He looked nice, silver-streaks poking through his naturally black hair that clung on even as he reached his fifties. “Hurry up, Sungie!” His dad’s voice boomed through the halls.
There was no way Jisung could continue waiting around sober, so he began to search every cabinet for the stashed alcohol. His parents always kept it out of reach and sight, despite him being of legal age now. They didn’t want to encourage unhealthy habits but, fuck, he craved those more than anything. More thrilling that way, to earn something. Grabby hands made their way around a dust-covered bottle of whiskey, sighing in relief as he saw it was half-full.
“I remember when you were fourteen, sneaking around this very kitchen for beer, when you thought no one was home. Shame I’d stopped over and caught you.”
The bottle almost hits the countertop in a way that would smash it, but is thankfully cushioned by the palm of Jisung’s hand at the base. The impact causes him to wince in pain, only to whine further as a foreign hand cups at the bruise, “Ah, be careful with that. Your dad got it years ago for a promotion.”
The constant reminders of Chan’s age were doing wonders for the fantasies in Jisung’s mind, but he was getting ahead of himself. Instead, he pulled his hand away from the older man’s and moved to run it under some cold water for relief. Chan took the hint thankfully and stepped back to lean against the bar-island, eyes fixed on Jisung the entire time.
The water had stopped now, two cups being placed in the space between the two men as Jisung got closer on his own accord this time. The proximity gave Jisung an excuse to check Chan out now – his silver hair was tied up into a man-bun, and he was dressed in a casually formal way. Polo-shirt on top, showing off his squishy but still defined arm muscles and dress pants that highlighted his toned thighs.
Seriously, who looks that broad and built at fifty-one? It’s unfair.
“You look good, Jisung. I like what you’ve done with your hair, your dad had a similar colour once.” The habitat of butterflies in Jisung’s stomach had just gained more residents, thankful he’d been looking away from Chan as it made hiding the smile that naturally overtook him easier.
“Share a drink with me? I am finally at an age where I can say that. Shit, I’m old.” Jisung asked, holding up the bottle, and switching conversation lanes. The laughter that engulfed them both was synchronised, years of Jisung building his humour off the man before him was paying off as the smile he’d spent countless nights longing for returned to him. As charming as ever.
There was a clear hesitancy, Chan’s eyes darted around the room like they were two teenagers about to drink for the first time, not two grown adults. “Why not, your dad’s letting it waste away in a cupboard anyways.” A hand extended out and Jisung happily put a glass of whiskey into it, dinking his against it with a mumbled ‘cheers’ before they shared a sip.
It burned, a fuck ton, but Jisung hid it with a drawn out ‘wooo’, not wanting to seem inexperienced in front of Chan –he was the pinnacle of stoicism, not a singular muscle in his body reacted to the alcohol like Jisung’s did. All it did was make the already plump nature of Chan’s lips even more intoxicating, a layer of shine added that provided an almost juiciness to them. The thought was pushed away as Jisung spoke,
“So, how’s Australia? Your family is there, right?” Jisung was truly doing his best to seem as authentic as possible, flashing his ‘gummy heart’ smile as his mother would so affectionately call it.
Chan’s eyes worked like a wolf, scanning over the upper half of Jisung’s body like he was prey before snapping up to meet the younger’s eyes when he was asked a question. Jisung stored that in the back of his mind for now, just feigning innocence as Chan spoke up.
“Good! Really good, spent a lot of time with my sister and some old friends I hadn’t seen in awhile.” Joy radiated off Chan in a way that began to melt through the walls Jisung had put up around his heart. The other man’s happiness had always been something Jisung sought after.
Now for the important question, “Anything in the dating realm?” Surely that sounded casual, right? The way Jisung’s hand gripped around the base of the glass had nothing to do with his nerves about the outcome of this conversation, nope.
“Ha, ah. Dating is still not really my thing, Ji.” Chan chuckled through the last bit, bringing the glass back up to his mouth once again.
The confession caused Jisung to bite his cheek, restraining himself so the happiness wouldn't show in his expression. Instead, he focused on Chan’s face, zeroing in on the lips especially. They fit so snuggly around the rim of the glass, eagerly intaking the alcohol like it was running away. Tongue first – that’s how Chan drank his whiskey, and most drinks. It was a habit that Jisung caught onto a while ago and fixated on. The way his tongue moved, licked up every drop that coated his lips or spilled down his chin.
“I did manage to release a few self-produced songs though, which always feels good to say. I can show you them if you’d like!” Suddenly they were closer together, Chan bringing his bar-stool as close to Jisung as possible. Their knees met, even slotting like puzzle pieces, and Jisung swore he saw a muscle tensed up in Chan’s throat at the contact.
The older man’s hands scrambled to pull his phone out, opening it up quickly to his own Spotify page – Bangchan. ‘Don’t mind if I do’, Jisung once again bit back on saying as he impatiently shifted from foot-to-foot whilst Chan fumbled with the interface. You’d never guess he was a successful, self-made producer with the way he struggled to hit play right now. It was endearing though, and tugged at far too many of Jisung’s heart strings.
“Ah! Here we go.” A surprisingly calm melody made its way through the speakers, the phone now set on the counter space between them as both men nodded rhythmically along to the tune. Without a doubt in Jisung’s mind, this was a love song – maybe not inherently romantic, but there was a deep sense of love for whoever Chan was writing about. “Wrote this one a few months into living there, ahh–bit cheesy eh?” The nervous neck-rub habit was still in play. Jisung just shook his head to dismay the last part of Chan’s sentence. Silly man.
Jisung’s right-hand settled on top of Chan’s restless one, rubbing circles as he spoke, “I think it’s beautiful, Hyung. You always captured love really well.”
The younger man realised,it was time to test the waters, experiment a little – so, whilst making eye-contact with Chan, Jisung took a swing of the drink in front of him. Perhaps over-acted a bit, tongue darting out to meet the whiskey and a satisfied hum to follow as the liquid reached his throat. It worked wonders though, Chan’s eyes unabashedly honed in on Jisung’s every movement. Flickering between his tongue, lips, then his neck, before a head shake from the older snaps them both out of it.
The weight that kept their eyes from meeting was lifted at last, sharing an earnest look that almost rendered Jisung to dust, listening intently to Chan’s words to stabilise, “I had good muses, can’t take all the credit unfortunately.” Jisung wants to ask which girlfriend, or boyfriend from his past it was. A friend maybe? Was it Jisung’s dad? Did they love Chan like Jisung did?
All questions died in his throat with the burn of another whiskey sip, being replaced by an attentive hum as he let the next few songs be played and explained to him. There was a variety – more love songs, yearning, sexual, party anthems. Chan had never been one to limit himself and it shows in his artistry, a quality Jisung both admired and envied in many ways.
Many guests of the party wander in-and-out of the kitchen like ghosts, orbiting around the pair that paid them no mind and instead focused on the little world they’ve created for themselves on these two bar stools. This was what Jisung missed, just being with his person, his hyung. He almost slipped back into that childish need to hide Chan from everyone, usher them away into a room just the two of them but he resists.
“And, that’s all of them. Nothing craaazy but I’m proud of myself.” The bashful nature was an everpresent part of Chan, never quite learning how to just compliment himself or be complimented by another person. Chan was definitely proud, as he deserved to be, but he never quite let himself be too settled in it.
“You really should be, Hyung. This is great! One of my professors actually played your song as an example in a lecture recently.” Jisung reached out to close the space between them, giving Chan’s hand a squeeze to punctuate his words, gasping softly as the other returned the gesture.
“Did you get to brag about knowing me? I hope you did, your uncle Channie after all.” Jisung’s eyes rolled up on instinct at the word uncle, furthermore when Chan started to tug on his ear, dimples showing off as he grinned at the younger man. Chan’s heart was so full of hope, whilst Jisung held a hammer to shatter it in mere seconds.
Swing, “Well. It was… more of a reminder that I didn’t really know what’s going on in your life anymore.” And impact.
The heart-break was instantly visible – muscles in Chan’s throat contracted as he gulped down whatever sound threatened to breach containment, hands falling back to his side and eyes losing a few stars in their sparkle.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” Jisung spoke up again.
“Ahh, yeah sorry about the delay getting here. I got held-up at work and then my trousers weren’t dry yet, then–” Whilst Jisung would love to hear Chan talk more, forever even, he had to cut him off.
“I mean since the day you left. I had a song written, wanted to show you and rushed home so my dad could drive me to yours, only that didn’t happen, did it?” Remnants of whiskey slooshing around Jisung cup filled the lull between them, he made quick work of downing it before continuing, “I had to find out from my dad that you’d packed up and left that morning.”
“Jisung–” If Chan’s eyes got any lower, they’d fall out his sockets. You’d think it physically harmed him to make eye-contact with Jisung. Maybe it did.
“I don’t need justifications, or your usual sensibility that makes me feel guilty for being upset. I just need the bare bones why.” Jisung had never been mad at Chan before, in all their time spent together they rarely argued. There were disagreements and frustrations but it rarely escalated beyond that. Now, he was sat before him as the embodiment of resentment, mixed with a foundation of love to back it up.
The wrinkles on Chan’s forehead looked especially present now, eyebrows furrowed together as he searched around his head for the correct word choice. Probably harder to think with a death-glaring, white-knuckling a glass of whiskey Jisung staring into your soul like he can read it for you.
“It was meant to be for two weeks. My plan was to facetime you when I arrived in Sydney and explain it all but I got immediately swarmed by the company, their people, cars, the whole works.” The dam holding all of Jisung’s emotions was on the verge of breaking, but he grasped onto the way that Chan’s gaze finally met his again and held that familiar look of love that no one has ever replicated. “The company was opening a new branch, and wanted me to supervise it due to my experience. But once I got there, they decided I was a necessary cog to keep it running.”
The buzz and generalised sounds of the party taking place only a few feet away from them, dulled out to mere brown noise. Chan’s voice, his rigid breathing, and the scraps of his nails against the counter-top were the only sounds that Jisung’s ears cared to take note of. The stoic, strong wolf of his childhood resembled that of a shaking pup now.
“I never intended to lose you, cut you out of my life entirely. You were–are–so important to me, Jisung. Time just kept dragging on, and on. Soon enough it felt too late to reach out.” The younger man’s hands started to ache around his glass, settling it down and placing his hand on the arm of his hyung with a light squeeze, encouraging him to continue, “I rationalised it by telling myself this was good for you. You had your dad, big brother, you didn’t need another adult coddling you.”
“I needed–fuck that, I still need you, Chan. I’ve never stopped wanting you, and I am an adult now.” Dents in the shape of fingernails started to form in Chan’s arm from the hold Jisung had, yet he didn’t make any move to pull back or tell the other off, instead just giving him the classic ‘I’m listening’ Chan eyes that melted hearts. “Can’t you see that?”
Almost instantly, before Jisung could finish, Chan’s answer came, “Yes, I can. I see it–you.”
For a split second Jisung wondered if the drink had hallucinogens in it, but soldiered through in the hopes alcohol hadn’t fried his senses. “You can, yeah? What about me, Channie?”
“Huh–what?” Chan’s head shook a little, like a surprised puppy that’s just heard the word ‘walk’ or ‘treat’ from its owner. It was cute, this was going to be fun.
Jisung’s grip went loose, opting to trace his fingers up and down the goosebump ridden arm instead, squeezing at Chan’s bicep as he passed it. The bottom of Chan’s lips was pulled into his mouth at this, cute. “What about me is so adult, I want to know.” The tone that was etched in Jisung’s words was the same one he used on men in bars, or behind convenience stores, to get himself inside of their guts. Always worked, and if the blush across Chan’s paler complexion was anything to go off, it was working now.
Chan’s eyes had doubled in size in only a few seconds, composure slipping as his usual nervous chuckles took the place of words that couldn’t quite make it out yet. “I–uhh, you are more intelligent? You’ve lost that childish need to ask me ‘why’ every two seconds.”
Disappointment spread across Jisung’s face, settling on the pout that naturally pushed his lips out. Chan noticed that immediately, not wanting to upset his boy anymore, so he searched his brain for something better.
“I mean, you are also… broader now. Finally started working out, mhm?” There was a strained nature to Chan’s voice, every word that fell out sounded like it was forcibly gritted to do so. Jisung felt like a piece of meat rotating in a butcher, Chan’s stare was now bordering on gawking as his neck craned around to properly take Jisung’s form in. “This heart-shaped window on your top? Is this meant to… entice people?” The coldness of the older man’s finger-tip against Jisung’s flush chest caused a shiver, and deepening redness on the spot.
The look in Chan’s gaze held a mixing pot of conflicting emotions. There was noticeable lust — the way his eyes fell on the lower half of Jisung’s body and particularly on his waist, other hand tightening on the counter-top as he lingered for a beat too long. Jisung had worn this top just to show his waist, and his chest off. Deeper than the appearance of lust, sat a layer of what almost looked like… disgust? In himself, or Jisung?
Jisung needed to get his plan in action, answer that question.
“The older men in Seoul enjoy it, always let me fuck them in their trucks when I wear it. One of them really liked to suck on my chest,” Boldness was the way, now or never, he thought. Jisung noticed a cock twitch at those words, and not his own, rather the older man’s as he fully slotted his own leg in between Chan’s thighs, “What would you like to do with them, Hyung?” Grind up, another throb of his cock. Wolf was backed up in a corner.
“Jisung–fuc–what’re you doing?” The attempt to stay composed whilst subconsciously grinding against Jisung’s leg was cute, but couldn’t continue. He needed this man to lose all shred of dignity. Preferably end up on his knees, or bent over a surface. Maybe both, Jisung had always been greedy when it came to Chan. Never liked sharing him with his older brother, the people Chan dated, or even his dad. Although he’d make an exception on the last part. “You need to stop–oh–we can’t do this.”
“Me? You are the one humping my leg, Hyung” Jisung brought up his leg for emphasis, applying pressure to the hard-on, swearing for a second he felt something wet. “Now. Be a good boy, and answer when you’re spoken to.” Liquid confidence was no joke for Jisung.
Before anything could escalate further, Jisung’s knee was locked in place by strong fingers. The mixed gaze in the other’s eyes had turned to that of stone, rendering the younger man to putty in the palm of Chan’s hand.
“Wait–ah. Jisung.” Chan’s voice, and hold, were firm – a side of himself he’d only shown a handful of times throughout Jisung’s life, in the most serious of cases. Without thinking, Jisung reverted back to a childlike state, dropping his leg back to its spot next to the other and scooting his bar stool back just a bit. “Let’s go upstairs, and talk. Just talk, okay?”
There was no resistance, Jisung sheepishly nodding at the words before allowing himself to be guided past the crowds of people that had spread around the bottom floor. The walk was silent, save for a few polite ‘hello’s from both men as they passed familiar faces, including his dad who shot him a quick thumbs-up to check if he was okay which Jisung returned promptly. He didn’t want to alarm him, the man deserved a break from Jisung’s antics.
It was hard to read Chan’s body language right now – he was acting as if nothing was amiss, like this was an entirely normal situation and not potentially the crumbling of a life-long bond. Had Jisung fucked it all up so quickly? So unceremoniously?
Chan only turned to look back at Jisung as they reached a door, his parents’ bedroom, opening it open and motioning the man inside it.
The view of his parents’ bedroom wasn’t where Jisung expected to have this conversation, a complaint never leaving his lips though as he crossed the threshold of the space and sat down on the bed whilst he waited for Chan to do the same. The older man stood a few feet away, back flushed against the door that was shut behind him. An axe couldn't cut through the tension between them, air seemingly unable to find a pathway to Jisung’s lungs at this moment.
“You can’t just–hm,” Chan’s chest rose, and fell, in a swift motion as he sighed, “you can’t just throw yourself at me, Jisung. That’s not appropriate, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Jisung could almost laugh–almost–at the implication that he was clueless in all this. Just flirting with Chan on what… a whim? Because he’d had a few glasses of whiskey?
“You think I’m still a helpless kid, don’t you?” The tone was accusatory, more so than necessary maybe but, Jisung was annoyed at being treated this way. “Is that what you think this is? A child asking for something they can’t have?” A finger danced in the space between them, gesturing at the two of them.
The older had the audacity to scoff at the words, not letting his gaze meet Jisung's. “This isn’t anything–it can’t be anything. You’re only twenty, Sung.”
If Chan wanted to avoid eye-contact, Jisung would force it; he can’t run away again. “And? Last time I checked, that’s an adult. Just like you.” Jisung rose to his feet, taking a few steps to lessen the gap between them, monitoring Chan’s body language for any sign of resistance but coming up empty handed. Thank God.
Heat radiated between the pair, wrapped them in a blanket that tethered them together. Chan could walk away, out of this room or to another part of it. There was plenty of space. But his stance remained fixed against the door, letting himself be caged by the younger man as he stalked up. Eye contact was still lacking, but at least Jisung caught a glimpse of Chan’s wandering eyes again — this time on the way Jisung carried himself, a purposeful sway to his hips. Twitching fingers, tightened jaw, and lips being bitten raw, Jisung was affecting him more than Chan cared to admit.
Chan spoke up, though his speech was faltering by now, “You can’t possibly know what you want. What this would do, think of your fath—” The man’s composure hung on by a thin thread.
“I knew what I wanted when I was six, and asked Santa for a guitar because my dad and uncle Chan made cool music, and I wanted to grow up to be like them,” Jisung’s words came out monotone, matter-of-fact even, “When I was twelve, I chose to join a band and start writing my own songs just to impress you.” He filled in the blanks that Chan had missed.
Eye-contact was achieved, if nothing else. The older man still remained wordless, as unmoving as the foundation this house was built on. Flushes of pink were mirrored on both men’s necks, droplets of sweat making their way down the front of Jisung’s body at the same time Chan’s did.
Jisung’s finger poked at Chan’s chest, the older man’s quickened heartbeat flowing through him. “When I was eighteen, I lost my virginity. His name was Chris—” A beat, followed by the faintest gasp from Chan, but Jisung doesn’t give him time to react, “—mid thirties I’d say. We met in a bar, and I fucked him in the alleyway only a few hours later. I knew who I wanted then, and it certainly wasn’t him.” For a moment, there’s peace. The statement hung between them like a confession of sin given to a priest. Jisung was awaiting judgement. He’s entered purgatory.
That all crashed the exact moment Chan’s lips made contact with Jisung’s, and their hands gripped at each other in a way that mirrored the start of a fight. This was unlike any kiss the younger has ever experienced – usually men were eager, pliant under him, just wanted to do whatever would get Jisung’s dick in them sooner. This wasn’t that, this felt like a punch, his lips would surely bruise. The clashing of teeth, mutual drool mixing as it spilled out, and grunts made for a less than pretty picture. Jisung’s cock ached nonetheless, this was heaven, he was sure of it.
Chan cut contact first, “You want to act so–fucking hell–grown up? Prove it. Show me.” Jisung nipped at Chan’s bottom lip as they parted for the older to speak, cleaning up the remnants of their makeout around his own lips with his tongue, as he fought the urge to fuck Chan against the door immediately.
No, he'd take his time with this. Completely unravel Chan.
“With pleasure, Hyung.” Jisung was nothing if not ambitious, taking greedy handfuls of Chan’s ass into his palms and flushing their bodies closer together as their lips reconnected. If he could, Jisung would crawl inside the man’s ribcage and set up permanent residency. He settled on etching their intimacy into their bodies in the form of marks—neither would leave unscathed.
Every groaned out cuss or plea that passed from Chan’s mouth and into Jisung’s felt like the spoken word of God, the finest scriptures in this world couldn’t replicate the divine feeling that Jisung was experiencing right now. Maybe he should’ve built an altar, and worshipped him. This was his way of making up for that as he let the hold on Chan soften and shifted to cradle his face. The stubble was barely there, but still pricked at Jisung’s thumbs as he soothed over the length of the older man’s jaw.
“Handsome, so fucking handsome, Channie.” Their lips separated once more, but Jisung was on him like a leech in the blink of an eye. No space on Chan’s face, or neck, was left untouched. Teeth grazed, and even broke skin at several points as Jisung let the feverish desire control him. This was everything he’d ever dreamt of, and more. He could never have predicted the way the older would unravel beneath him, still holding a part of himself back though.
The rational part of Jisung’s brain was aware of the fact they’d have to leave this room eventually, face the on-going looks and judgements of the people in this house. His parents included. But, with the way Chan whined at every nibble, it became harder for Jisung to care. All his body could do was grant pleasure to his Hyung.
“Bed, Ji, back hurts.” Chan’s hand combed through Jisung’s hair, tugging passively at the ends when he reached them.
Oh right, he’s in his fifties.
Without another word, Jisung hooked his arm under both knees and carried Chan to the bed in the way a groom would with his wife on their wedding night. That was a pretty picture, one to come back to.
In stark contrast to the makeout, Jisung took the time to lay Chan down delicately and pepper praise filled kisses along the way. The younger crawled over the laid out man, and settled himself on his lap, a smile falling just shy of his ears as Chan’s hands found their way to his hips. They belonged there.
Despite the fact it wasn’t long lived, the effects of the kisses were evident on Chan. Plush lips swollen up another size, pink and glossy as if he’d used a plumping gel. It was a sight Jisung wished to memorialise. If only he had his camera.
“You were made to be adored, Chan.” Every word was spoken between a kiss, once again taking the time to worship the man properly, the blush on his chest was deepened by Jisung’s efforts. “It’s a wonder people don’t drop to their knees at the mere sight of you.”
Chan moaned at the end as Jisung’s hand snaked its way up his body and settled on his nipples. “You’re exaggerating—oh.” Bingo. The older shuddered under his touch, hips arching up to meet Jisung’s ass as the younger boy pulled as many pretty sounds as he could out of Chan, grinding his own hips down to seek out friction and being greeted with the tent forming in the other’s jeans.
Sensitive thing.
“Let’s get you out of these, yeah?” Jisung took Chan’s sheepish nod as confirmation he was good to go, and worked on getting both their jeans off as quickly as possible. The sight before him could not be described adequately with words, every sexual dream Jisung had ever experienced didn’t hold a candle to the way Chan’s thighs looked before him. “Fuck, Hyung.”
Jisung wanted to ride his thighs, use them for his own sexual gratification and make Chan watch as his body was used as merely a tool for someone else’s pleasure. He'd let him, no doubt in Jisung’s mind. Always such a giving ‘uncle’.
Both men’s boxers, and Chan’s t-shirt came off shortly after.
Jisung enjoyed being in charge. He manoeuvred himself so he was on his knees at the foot of the bed, whilst Chan was spread on his back with his legs dangling off, his ass now centred in front of Jisung’s face–easy access. The younger couldn’t help but let out a cruel laugh as the older’s hole winked at him. “So eager, Hyungie.”
The words were punctuated with a finger trailing the rim of said hole, coaxing pretty groans from the man as he chewed on the flesh of his bottom lip to refrain from being too loud.
“Quit teasing, Ji–we don’t have time.” Chan’s words were borderline whined out, hands taking weak fistfulls of the sheets below him for a semblance of control. So fucking cute. Jisung could eat him up, and was going to do just that. He liked to play with his food though, always has. His dad would scold him for it.
The no-doubt tortuously slow featherlight touches of Chan’s rim continued, along with Jisung’s absentminded humming to accompany it. “Ah, you have to earn it. Remember what I said earlier, about my chest?” Jisung awaited a reponse–a nod–before continuing, “Tell me what would you do to them, and if it satisfies me. I’ll touch you properly.”
“Jisung, don’t be so ridiculous, let's just fuc–” Chan scoffed at the idea, like it was some childish thing.
As quickly as Jisung’s finger was on him, it was gone. As if he’d never touched Chan to begin with. The choked whine this caused was gratifying. “Guess you don’t want it.” Condescending tsk’s were accentuated by the clicking of Jisung’s tongue to the roof of his mouth, making the motions to stand up and leave the other in his vulnerable state.
Chan surged forward in an instant, chest heaving slightly as he stared up at the younger boy, his grip on the sheets was near white-knuckle. “Mark them! I’d mark them, and your neck.”
Jisung merely nodded, descending back down to his previous spot as his fingers came up to motion for Chan to do the same–plus continue his little speech. The tips of Chan’s ears had gone from a cherry-blossom colour, to mirroring that of a tomato. “Make sure it’s like those men never touched you, Sungie.” If they could, Chan’s eyes would be boring holes into the ceiling from how hard he’s staring up to avoid eye-contact during his confessional.
Sungie. That’s what his dad calls him, cute.
Reflective light caught Jisung’s eye as he found himself kneeling on the ground once more, grabbing the lube his dad kept stashed under the bed and popping the cap open. The bottle was halfway full, more than enough to do what Jisung needed, and room temperature as it coated his fingers.
Before Chan had the chance to continue—or run—Jisung’s ring finger slipped into his hole and began its stretch, testing the waters to see what reactions he could invoke. The answer was given promptly in the form of Chan’s back arching up, and his hole greedily sucking Jisung’s finger in even further. Age had done little to lessen his body’s desire.
“Sung-ah! Gen—gentle.” Chan bit out, still trying his hardest to stay quiet, moving a hand to take hold of Jisung’s hair. An attempt — futilely — to pull him away.
“Your body says otherwise, Hyung.” Like one would stamp a card, Jisung leaned down and placed a kiss on Chan’s hole to quieten his protests. All words on the older’s tongue died in a crashing wave of pornographic sounds, and tugs of Jisung’s hair.
Jisung knew better than to do as Chan told him, adding a second finger to the space and expertly — the experience had to do him some good — working them in a scissoring motion that he knew men liked. The noises that the older was making were like the sounds of angels singing in a choir. Nothing was more biblical to him. Groaning out curses, apologies, Jisung’s name. All of it.
The warmth — and tightness despite his age — of Chan’s hole was addictive to Jisung. It was somewhat looser than his own, naturally, but it still had that whore-like grip when he clenched that Jisung was sure many cocks had no doubt lost control because of. He wondered if Chan would let him go in raw. “Fuck, Hyung. You’ve been keeping this from me? How cruel.”
As the third worked itself inside of Chan, it dawned on Jisung that he probably didn't need this much prep. Jisung wasn’t small by any means — a good five inches with girth — but the other was a healthy mix of tight and loose enough to take him after only two. This was purely for fun, Jisung's amusement at making the other crumble and lose even more resolve.
“I can—Nghnn—take it, Sungie.” Tugging at Jisung’s hair, Chan let his voice come out in the kind of pitiful manner that made the younger question how long it had been since he was touched like this. “Need you. I’m ready.”
Jisung’s fingers curled up into the plush tissue of Chan’s walls as he searched for one last thing before pulling out entirely—bingo.
“Sung! Fu—fuck…” Chan’s grip was bordering on painful now, scalp aching as the other used it for release but Jisung bit back his winces and let the other do as he pleased.
One thing Jisung had learnt very early on with his pursuit of older men; their prostates enlarged with age. It was a natural thing, and a very useful tool when trying to pick them apart by the seams. “So easy, Chan-ah.”
Being the teaser he was, Jisung brushed his fingers over the area twice more before pulling out, watching the way Chan’s hole winked at him when the cold air hit it and his back arched once again. Seeking out the removed pleasure. So fucking hot, how’d Jisung ever resist.
The continuous sounds of the party did wonders for concealing their activities, Jisung was extra grateful that his drunken aunt was in charge of picking the music tonight since she had an affection for loud rock.
Lube was slathered over Jisung’s cock promptly with one hand, the other tracing hearts—subconsciously—over Chan’s leg to soothe his itch for touch as he waited on Jisung’s penetration. It was clear the older ached for this, more so than he let on previously.
Restlessness was also evidenced in his body language—legs wrapping around the younger’s lower half to pull him closer as he stood, hands back in the comfort of the bedsheets and eyes sealed shut as Chan mumbled what faintly sounded like pleas for forgiveness. From God, Jisung assumed but cared little to confirm.
“I’ll go nice and slow, okay, Hyung? Don’t want to break you just yet.” The tip of Jisung’s now slick cockhead tapped against Chan’s entrance, hand around the base while his tip circulated the rim in a similarly teasing manner as his fingers did previously.
“Yet?” Managing to hiccup out a laugh amongst his moans, Chan looked up at Jisung with lust-blown pupils and nearly caused all faux confidence in the younger to crumble in an instant.
Jisung didn’t want to risk losing control for even a second, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the nerves bubbling inside before lacing his tone in as much mockery as he could conjure. “I’d joke about breaking your back but, at your age it’s a real concern.” Titling his head, Jisung scanned over Chan’s body as if he was accessing for signs of age — wrinkles, greys, less defined muscle mass. It seemed to work, noting the way the older’s shoulders slumped into themselves and his body generally sunk deeper into the bed below him.
Like they were tied to either end of the same string, Jisung’s cock and heart ached simultaneously as he drank in the sight before him. No shots, blunts or pills felt like the ecstasy of crumbling Chan’s resistance. Bringing him closer to fully letting go — giving Jisung total control.
All it took was his tip settling inside for Jisung to lose it — internally that is — his body willed to stay intact. The give of Chan’s rim, mixed with the slowly pulsing nature of his walls, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Everything about Chan was unlike any of the men Jisung had wasted his time with.
For a few moments, Jisung kept just the tip in, letting his body adjust to the feeling and enjoying the way Chan tried to fuck himself forward only to be stopped by Jisung’s hands on his thighs. Such an eager pup.
With a weak slap to Chan’s right thigh, Jisung spoke up, “Fuckin’ perfect, hyung. You can take more, yeah?”
You'd think Jisung just gave him the answers to salvation with the way Chan lit up at the premise, nodding along to the words. “Ye—” More hiccups came, accompanied by tears trickling down Chan’s flushed cheeks, “—Yeah. Need more of your cock, please, Sungie?”
“Wonder how long you’ve wanted this.” The question remained unanswered as Jisung inched himself out, and snapped back inside with more determination this time, feeling the way his cock brushed past Chan’s prostate in the process.
The older’s cock was nestled against his lower stomach, lining his softened abs with pre-cum and jerking around with every thrust of Jisung inside him. It looked so hot, another time Jisung would love to cockwarm it for hours. Not now though.
Releasing his grip on the older’s thigh, Jisung leaned forward and wrapped a hand around the head of Chan’s cock to squeeze it just once before letting his hand fall back to its original spot. “So big, and yet so useless. Huh, Channie? Bet you don’t even know how to use it, need me to show you. That’s why you let me fuck you, right?”
Protests — excuses — soon spilled from Chan, unable to look the truth in the eye. Nor Jisung. “No, no. Can use it well.” It was hard to say who exactly he was trying to convince at this moment, but nonetheless Jisung could only react with a humourless laugh. Not indulging the idea for even a second.
The words fell even flatter when Chan’s throat soon began overflowing with moans, and choked out sobs, so easily affected by the way Jisung seamlessly dragged his cock in and out of his hole. Every run-in with the other’s prostate resulted in more undisputable overstimulation, unable to contain just how much pleasure he was experiencing.
Amongst the pornographic sounds, the clicking and popping of joints could be heard. Jisung’s cock twitched inside of Chan because of it, sue him. It was hot.
Sweat was building up over Jisung’s body, using one hand to remove his shirt and discarding it to the side — he didn’t care where right now — before taking ahold of Chan’s hips, continuing with his unraveling of the older man.
“Ah, ah, you’re pierced?” Like a cartoon, Chan’s eyes borderline bulged out of the sockets as he processed the sight in front of him. “And tatted? Fuc—me.”
“Like it? Got the piercing first week of college.” His eyes dropped down to meet Chan’s line of sight, honing in on the way his bellybutton ring shined under the overhead light. It also bounced with every thrust, drool leaking out of Chan’s lips at the repetitive action. The ink over Jisung’s chest was a prized possession, kept just out of sight with his t-shirt.
Until now. “Tattoo was done a few months ago. Nice older man did it, fucked me on the chair just before and gave me a discount.” Jealousy was a disease, something that infected your brain and caused insecurity to ruin your relationships or self image. It also caused Chan to latch his hands onto Jisung’s biceps, nails digging in to an almost puncturing degree at the mere mention of another man. Got him.
Taunting him further, Jisung did his favourite magic trick and bounced his pecs in a synchronised fashion to the rhythm of his hips. “I’ve been touched all over, Channie. You’d better mark me up, scrub them off. Right?”
An audible response was unnecessary, the way Chan’s nails continued their quest to pierce his skin did all the talking for him. He was looking to etch his place in Jisung — forever. Scar the younger with evidence that he’d been there, touched him. Loved him, even.
It was mutual though, Jisung’s grip on his hips was no doubt bruising as he used Chan like a pocket-pussy. Just unloading years of pent up frustration — sexually and emotionally — into the older man’s hole, basking in the way it felt to have his plush tight walls around him. “Fuckin’ love this hole of yours, should keep you tied here for me to use.”
“Like that… idea" The words were let out in a shuttered breath, so far gone; Jisung wasn’t sure if Chan fully knew what he was agreeing to. Didn’t matter anyways.
“Greedy whore, should’ve guessed that.” Not letting the other respond, or react, Jisung pulled his cock out completely and chuckled in a slightly — very — mean manner at the whine it ripped out of Chan. His arm hooked under the silver haired man’s midriff, using his remaining strength to flip him over and celebrating the new sight by slapping Chan’s ass as it was presented to him. “Can you arch yourself for me, Hyung?”
Jisung was thankful for the lack of eye contact now as it concealed the way his cock was twitching against his stomach as every joint in the older’s body fought to prop himself up, and keep steady. Chan’s groans from muscle aches filled the room, along with the crackle of hip joints and light whimpers that Jisung let through the holes of his facade.
“Ready for you, Kiddo.”
Kiddo. kiddo. kiddo.
That stupid, incessant petname. Realistically it slipped out, it was obvious the man is too gone to realise what he said but that doesn't stupid the flame of disdain from reigniting within Jisung. Sliding back in felt natural now, familiar, even if it was only their first (and maybe last) time.
Jisung felt robotic in a sense, tuned entirely to punish Chan even if the elder didn’t realise it was a punishment. The thrusts had gone from rhythmic to pounding, one foot up on the bed for better positioning as Jisung used every drop of stamina within him to focus his attack on Chan’s prostate. Every moan that came out just a little harsher than it needed to felt like a win.
Age had done little to Chan’s ass — as of yet — retaining much of its bounce with every slap and thrust that Jisung threw at it. It was an almost hypnotic movement. The skin also turned red like it had been coated in paint, showing off the younger’s handprint in the way you’d give a branding mark to a cow.
Cum soaked the sheets below them, Jisung’s own cock pulsing inside of Chan as he noticed the way pre-cum leaked from the other’s neglected cock. He wondered how he’d explain this to his father, but shoved the thought aside as Chan moaned his name and brought him back to the moment. Orgasm was no doubt near, it certainly was for him but he held on. For now.
Pleasure pulsed through Jisung in place of his bloodflow, feeling it on every individual molecule of his body as all the sensations caught up to him. Chan’s noises, the way his body looked being ragdolled, the give and take of his hole as it greedily took all it wanted from Jisung’s cock.
“Gonn’ cum, Sungie—I’m so close.”
Oh. That was the boiling blood, it was just shimmering for a moment. “No. You owe me an apology, then you can cum.” A weak spot was found, Chan’s lower ass where it met his thighs. Jisung’s fingertips sunk in, letting the pain and words soak over him in a singular motion.
The winces returned, this time with his head rotating around to find Jisung’s gaze. Only to be met with one that could turn him to stone — if only. “Wha… what?”
“I waited for you. For years.” Chan’s face was pushed into the bed below him, Jisung’s hand firmly on the back of his head. Fingers interlaced with his silver locks, Jisung tugged him to the side so he could lean down and access his ear with ease, breathing down his neck. The shocked-up neck hairs brushed against Jisung’s face as he spoke. “I threw myself at any older man that looked at me.” Biting at Chan’s ear lobe, Jisung pulled back and refocused his attention on the man’s hole. “Searching for you.”
The contracting neck muscles were evident even from Jisung’s birds-eye view, humming along as he awaited an adequate answer. “I’m—I’m sorry, fuck I am so sorry, Sungie.” Chan’s voice was sheepish, hoarse like he’d spent the night crying, unlike the usual sanguine way he carried himself. “I love you. I really do, more than anyone. In a selfish way.”
Jisung could hear the shuffling of footsteps, doors opening then closing shortly after. The party was winding down, and their window of opportunity was lessening its gap with every passing second. As much as he wanted to toy with Chan further — break him — that would have to wait.
“You love me, Chan-ah?” Jisung was fully in-tune to the older’s body, knowing exactly which spot to hit without missing a mark and piledriving into it free of mercy. It didn’t take long to learn his weak spots, and exploit them. “Show me, cum for me. Let yourself be wrecked by your 'nephew’ in his fathers bed.” Feeling especially mean, Jisung snaked a hand over the length of Chan’s body — nails dragging over his tensing midriff and abs before settling on his pec, twisting the already hard bud between his fingers tips as his thrusts endured with no sign of slowing down.
Vocal didn't begin to describe Chan during sex — his sounds were so frequent and distinctive, Jisung almost wanted to get his phone out to record them for songs. Immortalise the way he made Chan feel forever. Never let him, or anyone, forget.
Chan came first; already wobbly elbows giving out and fully collapsing his full weight onto the mattress beneath him as his cock twitched ceaselessly against the damp spot it landed in.
“Sungie! Cum in—in me… make me yours.”
Jisung’s movements only quickened at the sight, fucking him through the orgasm and in turn reaching his own with the way Chan’s hole tightened around his length. Sucking him in, begging to be coated in the younger’s cum much like his mouth and getting just that. Jisung always listened to his Hyung, he’d always been his anyways.
It was as euphoric — transcendent — as Jisung imagined. Finally understanding all those biblical tales of God speaking through human vessels, Chan was his God given solace. His slice of heaven on earth. Being kept in purgatory was worth it to reach this.
With his strength and stamina used up, Jisung couldn't help but to melt down like a puddle on top of Chan. Mutually sweaty skin sticking together, holding them in place as both men fought to gain control of their lungs once again. Blood was pumping, Jisung swore he could feel Chan’s against him. Maybe it was just his own regulating back around him.
The passage of time had escaped both of them, only separating once Jisung grew sick of their combined stench and decided something had to be done about it. “C’mon, Hyung. We can use my bathroom.”
Words evaded Chan, but soft hums and nods were enough for Jisung to know that his brain functions were intact. The younger extended a hand as he stood, a smile on his lips once they touched but it didn't quite reach his ears. Just a blink of happiness.
Shoving their boxers and shirts back on, along with grabbing their remaining evidence, the pair snuck across the hall to Jisung’s room like a pair of robbers in an old-timey movie. Airy, almost childlike, giggles were shared between them. It reminded Jisung of his childhood, running around with Chan. Very different context now.
Locking the door behind them, Jisung let his back hit the frame and took his first deep — proper — breath since he’d pulled out. It didn’t occur to him that the other hadn’t been in this space for awhile, raising an eyebrow as he observed Chan wandering around it. He was almost treating it like a museum exhibit, not getting too close or touchy with anything around him.
Eyes scanning over once, twice and even a third time, Chan finally let himself touch something as he pinched the bedsheets between his fingers. “You’ve still got the same dino sheets?”
Raising then lowering his shoulders, Jisung nodded and waltzed over to plop himself down on the very sheets in question. “Yeah man, I fucking love them!”
“It’s… cute.” It was easy to tell Chan was being earnest, eyes warm in a sickeningly familiar way. Crescents framing his smile, only deepening as another item was taken between his fingers — their framed photo. “Is that? Oh my god it is, I remember this day. I taught you to ride your bike in the park!”
One of the first dates Jisung went on in college was with someone his own age — they got a two-person bike and took it around a beautiful nature reserve to take in the sights. It ended in a picnic, and Jisung leaving with puffier eyes than before. That was the day he realised that people his own age weren’t a match for him, they just didn’t… click the right way.
Dry swallowing, Jisung felt the brick wall he’d built around his heart recement itself in place. “Yup. Couldn't bring myself to get rid of it." Taking it out of Chan’s hand, Jisung placed it back down on the bedside table with the photo downwards. Out of sight, out of mind.
“You were so eager to be praised, turning around to make sure I was looking at all times.” There was a tint to the other’s tone that Jisung couldn’t quite pick up, or didn’t care to in this moment, too lost in his own head. “It warms my heart to see you’ve grown more comfortably into yourself.”
Right, the facade.
Mustering up his most heart melting and gum-showing smile possible, Jisung dared to look Chan in the eyes — a mistake. Every star in the night sky had fallen into the gaze that stared back at him, dazzling with the remnants of past pride that hadn’t quite died out yet.
“I had good role models, people to base myself off. Y’know?” Jisung felt small, as minuscule as the figures that lined his shelves. It wasn’t a total lie though. The younger had a habit of moulding himself with pieces of those he loved; his mother, brother, father, friends and Chan.
Like it was still second nature, Chan’s hand came up to squeeze Jisung’s shoulder in the way he did before band practices or talent shows many — many — years ago. “You don’t need to be anyone else. That’s the point, Sung.” Curse those dimples, and strong grip, that made you believe anything he said.
If only it was that easy to know who you are outside of the love you give.
“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we, Hyung?” Fingers tapped against the back of Chan’s own, interlocking them together as Jisung dragged them into his en suite and prayed his heart beat couldn’t be felt in the touch.
Showering was out of the question by now. His mother and father worked efficiently when it came to cleaning up parties, and no doubt wondered where the two missing persons were. So, the ‘couple’ would have to settle for tap water and his toiletries, it wasn’t nothing after all. He knew that Chan was no doubt wincing internally at this, mind racing with all the proper hygienic steps he’d take if the situation was different. But, it wasn’t.
Dry throat struck again, words as harsh as sandpaper. “Can you… raise your shirt again?”
It was ridiculous to be shy now. His makeup was smudged from exhausting himself to pleasure Chan, and his body was littered in marks, yet the casual intimacy of cleaning Chan suddenly felt like crossing a line. The other didn’t seem to share this concern, sliding his shirt back off with ease and turning around to face the wall as he awaited further instructions.
“Like a trained puppy.” The words slipped out of Jisung on whim, meaning to keep them merely a thought but laughing to himself as he watched the older shiver at the petname. Maybe the lifelong wolf comparison had been correct.
Grabbing some wipes, it didn’t take long for Jisung to remove all liquid stains off his own chest, working efficiently so he could focus his attention entirely on the man in front of him. There was a hesitation once he reached Chan’s longer back though, noticing scarred tissue the size of a pebble directly above the older man's right asscheek. “Where’d you get this?”
Jisung’s pinky finger slotted into the minimally dented skin, twisting a little as Chan’s face peered over his own shoulder to figure out what the younger was talking about. Laughter erupted from him — the kind that steams from your stomach, and fastly overtakes you. A sound Jisung didn't realise he missed this much, certainly not enough to cause all brain function to cease for a few beats.
“Ah! Funny you mention that, your dad gave it to me the day we met.” The way Chan spoke was the same way Jisung did when talking about nostalgic things from his childhood — playstation two games, two-thousands k-pop groups, et cetera. Not… scars.
“Did he stab you with a rock or something, what the hell is this?” The shape was distinctive, unmistakably small but similar to one’s Jisung had on his legs from falling down in the park constantly as a child. A lot of those memories also included his father, just not as the cause of said injuries. All the blame went to Jisung’s bambi legs.
“I was riding my bike down our street like usual, my family had just moved to the area not long before but I already had a routine.” Sharply inhaling as Jisung’s fresh — cold — wipe went over his shoulder blades, exhaling shortly after into a relaxed sigh when the movements became almost massaging. “Your dad however was not impressed by my 'obnoxious’ tricks and decided to put a pebble in my path.”
Jisung's laugh came out in the form of a nose exhale, nodding despite the fact Chan couldn’t see and continuing his work on the man’s shoulder blades before redirecting to his sides with another wipe. “Explains why he taught me to ride my bike, and insisted I didn’t listen to uncle Chan.” Hot breath danced over Chan’s neck as Jisung got impossibly close, whispering the word like a hushed secret between them before resuming previous motions.
Ignoring the elephant in the room — save for a glare sent Jisung’s way — Chan continued his retelling, the familiar fondness within his eyes that Jisung recognised not only towards himself. But also his father. “The only thing is, he didn't confess to it. Until years later, in college, over a drinking game. On the day, he just helped me up and introduced himself. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”
Humming with acknowledgement, Jisung placed a tender kiss on the back of Chan’s neck — smiling against the skin when little hairs spiked up — as a parting gift before disposing of the wipes into his trashcan in the form of a basketball shot.
“He shoots, and scores.” Chan cranked his head round to watch, unable to suppress his smile as he watched Jisung fist pump the air when the wipes landed perfectly.
Crossing back over, Jisung worked both arms around Chan’s waist and nestled his head on his right shoulder. He smelt of fresh spring water and home. “Thought I already did tonight?”
“Hahaha.” Despite the sarcasm and exaggerated head movements to mimic laughter, Jisung could tell the other’s tone was also laced with earnest adoration. It always was.
Leaning down, a trail of kisses was left around the top of Chan’s back as Jisung mumbled against the skin. In a whispered way. “I really did worry about hurting you — breaking your back, and all.”
This seemed to be the thing that stumped Chan, shoulders noticeably tensing under Jisung’s lips as his affections continued, his chest rose against the younger’s back. “I’m sorry I left, that I didn’t say goodbye. I owed you more than that, more of me.”
Jisung’s lips ceased for a moment, subconsciously mouthing — almost teething — at the space between Chan’s shoulder blades as he thought about his next course of action. “Quit apologising, far too many pages in my journals are full of nonsense I wished I could have screamed at you over the years.” The younger placed yet another kiss, affirming these are previous angers. Settled long ago. “There’s also pages full of stories I wanted to share with you. Firsts I experienced without you, positive and negative. Underneath all of it, I missed my Chan.”
The older man didn't respond nor move, out of politeness. Knowing this wasn't the time or place to pry for further details.
“Just promise you’ll stay this time. Or, at least say goodbye.” Forehead to skin, Jisung’s hands came up to hold the older’s waist. Almost like he may run off at any moment, and would need to be held back.
“Okay, Sung. I promise.” Jisung didn’t need to look up to see the smile on Chan’s face — it was clear in his words, and his slowing heart rate. He was happy, melting into Jisung’s affections without restriction. The chains had been lifted.
It was best he didn’t clarify what the promise was though — less for Jisung to hang onto.
For now, he’d settle for whatever this is. Whatever they are.