Archive of Our Own

On the first day of spring, Jongin is out of a job and out of school for the first time in years. And for the first time in years, he wakes up past noon on a weekday and doesn’t jump out of his bed in panic when he checks the time on his phone. There are three new messages in the group chat he shares with his friends; Sehun and Baekhyun are bickering again about something silly, and he replies with something snarky before he leaves the warmth of his bed.

He takes a quick shower and pads to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast. The tv is on in the living room to a Power Rangers rerun. A mop of dark curls pops from over the couch, followed shortly by the rest of its head.

“Hey, good morning,” the man says. “I left you some coffee and toast on the table.”

Jongin has been sharing an apartment with Chanyeol for five months, after his last roommate, Sehun, moved in with his boyfriend Baekhyun. Chanyeol was recommended to him by Baekhyun, who knew everyone and their moms, and Chanyeol had shown up two days later at his doorstep with a guitar strapped to his back and a huge grin. The man had extended a similarly big hand to him in greeting, and said, “You’re Jongin, right?”

The depth of his voice had surprised Jongin. It was a bit sexy, though he would never admit that aloud. But any thought of Chanyeol never went beyond the guy he shared an apartment with, one that he barely saw. Jongin divided his life between classes and the terrible shifts at a donut shop; he left the apartment in the morning while Chanyeol was sleeping and came back late at night when Chanyeol was working overnight shifts as a security guard at a supermarket. And so they rarely ran into each other at home.

So right now it feels like he’s meeting his roommate for the first time all over again. After Jongin’s workplace shut down because of the lockdown last week and Chanyeol was laid off at his job, it’s the first time in months they’re sharing the same space for hours at a time. And Jongin has always been a little shy around strangers.

“Thanks,” Jongin mumbles.

He gives Chanyeol a small, grateful smile and shuffles to the kitchen. To his surprise, Chanyeol gets off the couch and follows him, wearing the same curious, tentative grin he had when he moved in.

“I wanted to ask you,” Chanyeol starts, standing at the table. Jongin takes a seat across from him with a cup of tea and toast on a plate. Coffee tastes like motor oil to him. “What do you like eating? What’s your favorite meal? Is there anything you don’t eat?”

Jongin looks up over the rim of his cup. That’s too many questions so early in the morning and his brain takes a moment to catch up to the deluge.

“Why?”

“Because I can cook,” Chanyeol replies, sitting across from Jongin. “And I like cooking for other people. And now that we’re going to be stuck for months here, I was thinking that maybe we can get to know each other. Starting with our food preferences and allergies and stuff.”

Jongin takes his time chewing and thinking. “I like everything. There’s nothing I can’t eat, except for onions maybe.”

“And you don’t like coffee,” Chanyeol points out. Jongin smiles guiltily. “Noted. That’s good to hear, because I can cook pretty much everything. There was that one time I put cucumbers in a salad and Baekhyun nearly stormed out of the apartment…”

Jongin laughs, covering his mouth. Chanyeol’s eyes crinkle when he laughs. “I’ve never met anyone who hates cucumbers more than Baekhyun.”

“It’s like a weird phobia,” Chanyeol concurs, nodding. “So, what do you want for our first meal? Are you craving anything in particular?”

The polite answer would be nothing. Jongin isn’t that picky, and he hates troubling others, especially strangers. He doesn’t know Chanyeol that well yet. But his stare seems so expectant, his smile so earnest. It feels like it’s somebody else speaking when Jongin says, “Surprise me.”

Chanyeol’s grin grows large. “Alright then.”

Two hours later, Jongin is back at the same spot with more food in front of him than he’s ever seen on that table. For their first meal, Chanyeol went for carbonara, the best Jongin’s ever tried, along with some salad and homemade bread. Jongin feels almost bad for inhaling the food as soon as he sat down.

“That was so, so good,” Jongin says. “But you didn’t have to do all that…”

“Well, you told me to surprise you.” Chanyeol’s grin is a bit smug. “And by the look on your face when you first walked in, I think I did.”

Jongin chuckles, self-conscious. And he’s also somewhat confounded at finding Chanyeol’s arrogance just a bit attractive.

They have to attend online lectures after in-campus classes were suspended. Jongin is in second year of literature, and really, if sitting through his lectures was already a torture, it’s way worse now that he has to force himself to stay awake while his professor drones on through a webcam. Chanyeol is in third year of film school and seems to genuinely enjoy his classes in a way Jongin hasn’t seen in other people. Through the thin walls, he can hear Chanyeol speak during his classes and even laugh at whatever is being said. Jongin wishes he had some of that energy.

When he’s not cooking or being an excellent student, Chanyeol is playing games on their living room floor. And he’s loud. Very loud. He screams, cries, talks, loudly, to no one but the characters on the tv. It annoyed Jongin at first; he had homework to do and chapters to read for goodness’s sake, until all the noises started to entertain him, and eventually get a chuckle or two out of him when Chanyeol unleashed a particularly lengthy and prolific string of curses.

On a day when Jongin’s brain is too fried to focus on his work, he wanders to the couch with the book he’s currently reading, just to have an excuse to watch Chanyeol play. When his character dies in the game, and after cursing and lamenting, he turns to Jongin with an extra controller and an inviting smile.

“Wanna play?”

Jongin hesitates, because he’s never been good at playing games—he’s happy just pressing buttons and doing whatever just for the fun of it, and Chanyeol seems so competitive.

Jongin shrugs. “If you’re willing to teach me.”

Chanyeol’s smile is crooked when Jongin sits beside him. His roommate teaches him patiently, guiding him through all the required steps with a gentle voice. Jongin gets the hang of it fast, and surprisingly, he ends up being better than he thought. Some of Chanyeol’s competitiveness rubs off on him because he tries his hardest not to lose to him, if only to get Chanyeol riled up and hear him fire off his creative repertoire of swear words whenever his character dies.

Jongin also discovers that Chanyeol has a way of laughing with his whole body, clapping to the tune of his mirth and slumping into the people in his proximity. Which in this case is Jongin. Chanyeol’s head drops to his shoulder and his hands find their way to Jongin’s arm or leg, whichever place is available. What surprises Jongin is that his touchiness doesn’t put him off. He’s naturally touchy with people he likes, namely his friends and sisters, but it’s rarely the case with people he’s just met. And yet he can’t push Chanyeol away, because something about his happiness is contagious and Jongin doesn’t dare to interrupt its path. So he sits there and lets Chanyeol throw an arm over his shoulders when Jongin makes him laugh and pats his knee in appreciation.

Three weeks after the start of spring, they decide to take a trip to the farmer’s market. Chanyeol offers to make the trip, but Jongin refuses at the thought of Chanyeol carrying all the stuff home alone because he already does most of the cooking. Chanyeol insists they take an umbrella with them since his weather app had forecasted rain, though the sky is a clear azure when Jongin looks.

It’s not surprising to Jongin that Chanyeol gets the aunties at every stall to love him. Some even go so far as offering to sell him the vegetables at a lower price, which Chanyeol profusely refuses. A few also fall for Jongin, spurred on by how easily he blushes when the attention is on him and he’s willing the earth to just swallow him whole. Chanyeol takes the chance to tease him, pinching his cheek and cooing along with the aunty when Jongin scowls at him. Their bickering earns them a free handful of strawberries that they eat during the rest of their perusing.

The rain starts on their way back to the apartment. Being the tallest of the two, Chanyeol carries the umbrella, but trying to huddle under it while carrying their reusable bags turns out to be a little difficult. Especially because Jongin tries to keep some distance between them for the sake of his heart rate and sanity.

“Jongin, come closer,” Chanyeol tells him. “You’re going to get all the stuff wet.”

Chanyeol drapes an arm around his waist to drag him close without giving him an option. Jongin feels like a female lead in a romantic movie, and also a little ridiculous. Chanyeol looks so handsome with his hood up, a dimple imprinted on each of his cheeks, and Jongin realizes with a start that he’d been staring at Chanyeol’s lips a beat too long.

“Everything’s going to get a little wet anyway.”

“But we can try not to get them wet.” Chanyeol bounces him a lopsided smile. “And I really want to make that risotto I told you about today.”

“How come you’re not majoring in gastronomy if you love cooking so much?”

“Because I also love films and I want to make one someday.” Chanyeol shrugs without ever losing his smile. “Maybe I’m just good at several things because I love doing them.”

“Okay, you’re bragging now,” Jongin says. Arrogance shouldn’t be such an attractive look on anyone. In Chanyeol, it means his voice drops a lower octave, adding to his already deep timbre and it twists Jongin’s stomach in a funny little knot. It’s infuriating.

Chanyeol has yet to drop his arm from around Jongin. Not that he minds much. The heat he radiates under his hoodie is inviting with the drop in temperature.

Jongin trips over the sidewalk and Chanyeol’s hold on him tightens on instinct.

“Careful there.” Chanyeol’s arm begins to loosen its grip but doesn’t fall off. On impulse, Jongin moves even closer until their arms brush. A laugh threads at the edges of Chanyeol’s smile. That and the proximity causes his stomach to do several baffling flips. “You don’t wanna fall over the puddles here. We still have a couple of blocks left.”

“My sneakers are slippery,” Jongin tries to excuse himself.

“Or you’re a bit of a klutz.”

“I’m in the top of some of my classes,” Jongin retorts. It’s his turn to brag and Chanyeol seems amused by it.

“Well, why do you like your major then?” Chanyeol queries. Only a block left now. “You gotta love something to be good at it.”

“I’ve always liked reading,” Jongin responds, flippant. It was also literature or accounting, the latter being his parents’ preferred career path, and Jongin pushed until he got his way. He’d excelled in all his classes in high school, but literature was the only subject he loved enough to pursue it as a career.

“That’s a very simple but honest answer.” Chanyeol’s laughter is not mocking, so Jongin takes no offense. The way Chanyeol is eyeing him right now is assessing, like a bulb has been switched on over Jongin’s face. The attention isn’t overwhelming, but Jongin does get a little bashful under its weight.

They reach their apartment and Chanyeol lets go of Jongin at last. Jongin can finally focus on something other than the warmth of Chanyeol’s body pressed against his and his riveted gaze on him.

Living with Chanyeol is turning out to be better than he’d expected. They make a little schedule for grocery shopping, chores, and cooking. And it works. Jongin is pleased. As a roommate, Sehun was a nightmare in comparison; he rarely cleaned and never cooked, and Jongin wasn’t the best at the task either. So to have someone actually contributing, and with a good disposition to boot, is nice. Chanyeol is nice.

Chanyeol teaches him how to make bread so Jongin can prepare some for dinner. They bake cookies together and Chanyeol lets him steal a bite of the batter before he scoops it onto the baking sheet. On some nights, they huddle into the couch to marathon movies that Jongin hasn’t watched and that Chanyeol swears are going to change his life. Jongin rolls his eyes, but inwardly, he’s a little giddy at the proximity that these movie nights offer. The plots are often hard to follow because Chanyeol never fails to steal Jongin’s attention.

This routine they’ve built sneaks up on Jongin. So natural it is that it only becomes clear to him a month into quarantine when Sehun points it out. Lol u got urself a quarantine husband, his friend texts one day. Jongin’s heart skips a beat. Because, yeah, their routine is comfortable and easy and exactly what old couples do. Except that they are not a couple.

Shut up, he’d typed. Ur just jealous ur boyfriend can’t cook. All Sehun had sent back was an emoji flipping the bird.

One morning Jongin walks into the living room to find Chanyeol doing sit-ups on the floor. It wouldn’t even be worth mentioning, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s shirtless. And wow, it’s a sight.

“What’re you doing?”

Chanyeol stops and faces Jongin. Panic descends on him like a bucket of cold water. He doesn’t know why he’d blurted that out. They stare at each other for a torturous moment. Chanyeol begins to look unsure and Jongin wants to kick himself.

“Is it a problem? I thought I could exercise here since all the gyms are closed…”

“No, no, it’s not—” Jongin sputters, batting his hands. Chanyeol lifts his brows. “I had just woken up and I was a little surprised—”

Can the earth just swallow him and end his misery already. His brain had just begun to work when he stepped into Chanyeol and his abs glistening with sweat, and his cognitive functions short-circuited on the spot. Now it seems like Chanyeol has caught on to the reason for his shock by the way his lips quirk because Jongin is still standing there like an idiot.

“I’ll just go and make breakfast,” Jongin mumbles.

“I left you some eggs,” Chanyeol calls after him. “You should heat them up if you like them hot.”

Jongin is going to ignore how the word hot was emphasized. Yup. He sits at the table with his mug and eggs, and keeps his eyes glued to his phone so as to not steal a glance of a semi-nude Chanyeol, who has moved on to push-ups. When Jongin does steal a glance, as furtively as he can, he instantly regrets it, for Chanyeol’s biceps make it hard to look away and pretend he’s enjoying this Youtube video.

They’d come up with a plan for lunch so both can participate in the process and the duty isn’t unfairly distributed: Chanyeol cooks, since he’s better at it, and Jongin prepares the ingredients. That day Chanyeol put on a sleeveless shirt after his shower and Jongin is finding it a little too hard to concentrate on his task. And sure enough, while he’s watching Chanyeol stir the veggies in a pan, he nicks his finger chopping green onions.

“Fuck.”

Chanyeol spins around at Jongin’s gasp. Jongin sucks his finger into his mouth. Blood fills his mouth with a tangy taste. Chanyeol switches off the stove and goes over to Jongin, concern etched in his face.

“Let me see,” Chanyeol tells him, tugging at his arm. Already embarrassed, Jongin shakes his head stubbornly. “C’mon, Jonginnie.”

The combination of his nickname and the tone Chanyeol uses, soft, persuading, worried, disarms Jongin enough for his arm to budge and his finger to pop out of his mouth. Chanyeol has never called him that before. It didn’t cross his mind that they could be at a point of giving each other nicknames; they’ve only been rooming together in the true sense of the word for a month. Not like it bothers Jongin—quite the opposite. It sends his heart ramming against his chest like a bee trapped in a jar.

“Shit,” Chanyeol says. “You nearly chopped your finger off.”

“What? Oh, fuck.” Jongin looks at his finger. Blood runs down over his palm from a gash in his skin. He grabs a discarded napkin and wraps it over his finger. The white turns red alarmingly quick. “Fuck, I’m so dumb.”

Chanyeol chuckles. Jongin stares at the crinkles around his eyes. “Everyone has nicked their fingers while chopping veggies, Jongin. It’s not a big deal.” He guides him to the table. “Wait, here. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Jongin hates blood. Seeing so much of it pouring out of him made him a bit squeezy. Perhaps noticing this, Chanyeol cleans and patches him up in no time. That being said, Jongin did curse aloud when Chanyeol pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to his finger before putting on the band aid. It did earn a good snicker out of Chanyeol that in turn got a smile from Jongin.

“How about we finish cooking,” Chanyeol suggests, “and watch a movie afterward?”

“Alright,” Jongin says, pushing off the table. “I’m starving!”

They settle on Howl’s Moving Castle, because Jongin finds thrillers hard to keep up with, Chanyeol is scared of horror movies, and they both think dramas are boring. Chanyeol loves animated movies and nearly jumps out of the couch when he hears Jongin has never watched a Ghibli movie.

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol gasps, with feigned disappointment. Jongin laughs. “You’re not going to leave this home without watching every single movie. That’s going to be our lockdown mission.”

Jongin loves the movie and the story. But not as much as Chanyeol does; Jongin catches him surreptitiously wiping his tears when the credits roll. Jongin stares at him in shock, then cackles when Chanyeol slugs his arm, laughing at himself.

“Shut up! It’s a beautiful movie!”

“It is a good movie,” Jongin agrees, “but not enough to cry like a baby.”

“You’re just heartless.” Chanyeol shakes his head, going to the main menu on Netflix to pick another movie. “If the next movie doesn’t make you cry, I’ll pay for the pizza tonight.”

“Deal.”

Spirited Away is another beautiful movie that sucks Jongin into the story. He almost, almost sheds a tear when Chihiro and Haku are falling through the sky, but he holds it in and doesn’t let Chanyeol see he is affected. Chanyeol is too busy wiping his tears to see what the movie did to Jongin anyway.

“God, you’re such a baby,” Jongin taunts. Chanyeol groans, then puts Jongin in a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Let me go!”

“I am a baby,” Chanyeol admits, rubbing Jongin’s head harder. “And you’re not getting pizza tonight!”

“Alright, alright! I’m just kidding!”

“Good, because you’re risking your dinner by being a smartass.” Chanyeol lets go of him but keeps their closeness. Jongin had brought a blanket from his room because the apartment gets cold in the afternoons. This and the heat radiating off Chanyeol has his body feeling overly warm. 

 Jongin falls asleep midway through the third movie. When he wakes up, he’s lying on his back and the tv is still playing in the background. Above him, Chanyeol stares ahead, smiling at whatever is happening in the movie, his fingers buried in Jongin’s hair as if he’d been stroking it at some point. He doesn’t move, so as to not give himself away, content with watching Chanyeol for a moment and wondering how someone can look so handsome from this angle. Chanyeol’s fingers being moving again, and he glances down, eyes widening just a fraction of a second at finding Jongin awake, then narrowing with a smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Chanyeol says. “You missed most of the movie.”

Chanyeol pushes his bangs back without breaking eye contact. Jongin’s breath hitches in his throat at all the smells that drift over to him: soap and a hint of coconut hand cream. Chanyeol smiles, boops his nose, and this is what finally gets Jongin’s muddy brain to work again. He’s still in Chanyeol’s lap and staring openly at him.

“Oh, shit.” Jongin jolts into a sitting position and scoots to the other end of the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—It’s so cold in here and I get so sleepy in the afternoons.”

“I know, it’s like a freaking igloo,” Chanyeol agrees. “But your blanket kept us warm.”

Chanyeol’s smiling at him like nothing’s wrong. Okay, so he’s good with touching, even the taking-unplanned-naps-together kind of touchiness. Even so, Jongin doesn’t know what to do with this information.

He stretches his legs out, extends his arms over his head and stifles a yawn poorly.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Jongin replies, sheepish. “This couch is comfortable to take naps. How did I end up in your lap?”

“Well, you fell asleep, lied on your side and put your head on my lap like you’ve been doing it since forever.” Chanyeol shrugs with a chuckle. “You reminded me of my dog at my parents’ place.”

“Wow, comparing me to a dog. Thank you.”

Chanyeol’s laugh is boisterous. Jongin watches his hand slap his shin, then enclose his ankle like it’s a rodent.

“Don’t worry about it, by the way. You look really cute when you sleep.”

Jongin freezes, speechless, his jaw slackened at the easiness those words roll off the other’s tongue. Chanyeol stands from the couch to stretch his arms like Jongin did.

“Want some tea?”

He flashes Jongin a grin over his shoulder and ambles to the kitchen, unaware of the state he’s left his roommate in. 

For the first weeks of living together, Jongin had thought his attraction to Chanyeol was under control. Now, he finds himself staring at him when they cook and eat together, or even while he’s speaking, which is particularly troublesome when Chanyeol suddenly pauses and blinks at him with a smile like he knows Jongin is thinking of kissing him.

“You’re screwed.”

Jongin keeps Baekhyun and Sehun updated about his Chanyeol predicament. Their faces look identically smug on his phone screen when he Facetimes them on a weekend. Jongin hopes his deadpan is palpable through the screen.

“Well, he wants to get screwed,” Baekhyun supplies, leering. “Don’t you, Jonginnie?”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“You do want him to fuck you, don’t you?” Sehun cackles. And the noise is even more annoying through his headphones than it is in real life. “C’mon, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is,” Jongin refutes. “Because we have to live together. I don’t fuck my roommates unlike some people.”

“Hey, it turned out well for us, didn’t it?” Baekhyun kisses Sehun’s cheek to prove his point. Sehun preens. Jongin wants to gag. “And we weren’t roommates, Sehun was your roommate and I happened to fuck him.”

“I walked in on you a few times,” Jongin reminds them flatly, “when Sehun was rooming with me.”

Baekhyun and Sehun burst into a laugh in unison. “Oh, god. Our poor Jonginnie,” Baekhyun coos. “We’ve scarred you for life.”

“You two are terrible.”

“And you need to get laid,” Sehun throws back. “Make some moves on that man. You have all the time in the world to get some good dicking.”

“Make us proud!” Baekhyun shouts, nearly blowing Jongin’s eardrums in the process. Baekhyun blows a kiss to the screen and Sehun waves goodbye with an infuriating sneer before the call ends.

Jongin should’ve suspected calling his friends wouldn’t make him feel any less helpless about his growing crush on Chanyeol.

A Thursday finds them screaming while playing games. Jongin had just finished a grueling exam and he was dying to relax, so he’d joined Chanyeol on the living room floor, and so far, he’s been kicking his ass in every round. Jongin’s stomach begins to hurt at how much he’s laughed each time Chanyeol hurls the controller in a tantrum, only to end up picking it back up in a burst of determination to beat Jongin and then losing again in the next round.

“Yes!” Jongin shouts in victory, fists above his head. Chanyeol hits his forehead with his palm for the nth time that afternoon.

“How’d you get so good at this? I kinda regret teaching you now.”

“I’m a natural.” Jongin shrugs. Chanyeol frowns and pokes him in the ribs until Jongin is leaning on his side with his elbow, squirming away from the attack.

Chanyeol stops to consider something. “Hey, you smoke weed?” There’s an excited gleam in his gaze when Jongin looks. “It’s totally cool if you don’t, but I happened to run into a friend from college when I went to get groceries and he sold me some.”

“Wow, you can get anything at Costco now,” Jongin quips. He’s trying to decide whether it’s a good idea to smoke with Chanyeol. It’s not like he does it frequently, only when the donut store was empty and his coworker was a little too convincing. In the end, he yields under the enthusiasm he can see bubbling right under Chanyeol’s surface. “Sure, why not.”

And so an hour later, they’re lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling and laughing at something dumb Chanyeol had said fifteen minutes earlier.

“Your voice sounds like Princess Peach’s!”

“What? No, it doesn’t—”

“Yes, it does! It’s like—” Chanyeol imitates the voice, which sounds nothing like Jongin’s. Jongin shoves his shoulder in retaliation. Chanyeol’s eyes are shut as he convulses with his familiar wheezing laugh. It shouldn’t be so cute. And he’s so close, closer than he’s ever been. Jongin can see the faint stubble on his chin, the tiny mole on the bridge of his nose…

“Dude, you could take a picture,” Chanyeol jokes, “it would last you longer.”

Chanyeol is staring at him. Smiling. Jongin looks towards the ceiling again, embarrassed, and despite himself, a giggle escapes him. It gets Chanyeol laughing along.

“Sorry, it’s just that you have an eyelash here…” Jongin taps his cheek with a fingernail. Chanyeol seems a little soberer now, his gaze sharper and riveted on Jongin. Chanyeol squints his eyes shut as he flaps his hands over his face in an exaggerated motion to brush the eyelash away.

“Is it still there?”

“Yeah,” Jongin says. “You missed it.”

“Can you remove it for me?” Chanyeol moves closer, his face inches away from Jongin’s. He feels fuzzy and giddy, but a sudden bout of nervousness sinks heavy in his stomach like a stone in a pond. It leaves him in a giggle he can’t suppress.

“Sure.” He brushes his thumb over Chanyeol’s cheek to remove the imaginary eyelash. Chanyeol’s eyes open a slit, his smile growing wide. “There.”

Everything happens in a flash: Chanyeol puts his arms around Jongin and brings him in, enclosing his mouth on his. Jongin barely has time to react. A gasp pushes past his lips as Chanyeol pulls back. All the giddiness fizzes out in an instant and all that’s left is the enormity of what’s happened.

Chanyeol just kissed him.

“Oh my god.”

Jongin rolls over to his other side, his face hidden behind his fingers. Embarrassment has completely annihilated what was left of his high. 

“Is everything okay, Jongin?” Chanyeol asks, cautious. Jongin can hear a note of concern in his voice. “Fuck, did I read the signs wrong? I’m so sorry if I fucked up I—”

“No, it’s not that,” Jongin mumbles. “It’s just that…”

Suddenly, Jongin turns to face Chanyeol again. Chanyeol’s eyes are wide, puzzled, watching Jongin intently. Without wasting a second, Jongin yanks Chanyeol by the front of his shirt and draws him close for another kiss. It only takes a second for Chanyeol to register what’s happening, then he’s clutching Jongin’s hips, bringing him as close as he can. Jongin digs his fingers in Chanyeol’s hair and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Chanyeol wanders over to his ass and Jongin molds himself into Chanyeol’s body, one leg fitted between Chanyeol’s, giving a nonverbal approval. Jongin sucks a mark into Chanyeol’s jaw as Chanyeol grabs a handful of his ass, and god, how many times has Jongin fantasized about those hands on him… It rips a moan from deep within his throat that makes him hot from head to toe. Chanyeol must feel his hard-on pressing against his thigh. Jongin feels the urge to pull away and hide again, but the need to keep touching, exploring, traps him in place.

“Hello,” Chanyeol whispers, pecking his lips one last time. “I guess I didn’t read the signs wrong after all.”

“Shut up,” Jongin whines. Chanyeol laughs. “I thought I was alone in this.”

“I said you were cute, didn’t I?”

“After you compared me to a dog.” Jongin pouts when Chanyeol chuckles. It evaporates the moment Chanyeol kisses his nose. Jongin’s already a goner.

“A cute dog.” Chanyeol’s smile melts Jongin inside. Then he’s kissing Jongin again, his fingers sneaking under Jongin’s hoodie to roam over his stomach. The noise of satisfaction he emits when he notices Jongin rutting into his thigh drives Jongin up the wall.

“Want me to take care of that?”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I want to,” Chanyeol says, determined. He stamps a kiss on Jongin’s mouth and slips under Jongin’s sweatpants, palming over his erection. Jongin bites his lip so he doesn’t moan aloud and rubs himself on Chanyeol’s palm.

At last, Jongin nods, giving up the last of his restraint. Chanyeol grins triumphantly, kisses Jongin’s chin, and dives to hover over his navel. The kiss he stamps below Jongin’s bellybutton has Jongin squirming and giggling underneath him.

“That’s not very hot.”

“This is hot,” Chanyeol says. He pulls down Jongin’s sweatpants, along with his underwear, leaving him exposed. The cold that hits his skin makes him want to cover himself on instinct, but Chanyeol holds onto his hips to restrain him. Chanyeol licks his lips as he grips Jongin’s dick in a fist, pumping slowly, then puts his thumb over the silt. Jongin hisses at the contact, his hips jolting forward, begging for more. Chanyeol watches it all with an amused shimmer in his gaze. Just as Jongin is about to demand he do something, anything, he takes the tip of Jongin’s dick between his lips, sucks on it as he swallows the rest of it with gradual bobs of his head.

It doesn’t take long for Jongin to come. Chanyeol has a talent to make him lose his mind with only his mouth and tongue, and he’s relentless even after he’s reduced Jongin into a trembling, whimpering mess. Jongin covers his mouth to muffle a shout, his other hand tangled in Chanyeol’s hair. It’s only after the fog has dissipated in his vision that he realizes Chanyeol is lapping his lips, having swallowed Jongin’s come.

“Holy fucking shit.”

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol laughs, wiping at his chin. It’s absurdly hot. “I do give good blowjobs, or so I’ve been told.”

“You’re fucking fantastic.” Jongin’s spent, pliant and stupidly happy. Chanyeol chuckles and climbs over him to kiss his cheek. Nothing can wipe that smile off Jongin’s face, especially not the way Chanyeol is gazing at him like he’s something amazing.

“Wanna watch a movie? We can order in tonight.”

“I’d really love that.”

The rest of the day is spent watching movies and cuddling on the couch. Near midnight, a palpable tension swells between them, and the anticipation isn’t completely extinguished in Jongin when Chanyeol leads him to his room. They wash elbow to elbow in the bathroom and climb into bed in their pajamas. All they do that night is talk for hours and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, Jongin gets to return the favor by sucking Chanyeol off in the shower. Chanyeol’s voice reverberates against the tiles when he comes, two of Jongin’s fingers against his hole. Once he’s recovered, he drags Jongin into a kiss as he strokes him to completion and holds his shaking body through the orgasm. Jongin is more content than he’s been in a long time.

They go for a walk around the neighborhood after breakfast. Since it’s early, the streets are mostly deserted, save for a couple of old people walking their dogs. Jongin takes the initiative to hold hands on the way back to the apartment, thankful for his mask to hide his blush. The tips of Chanyeol’s ears tinted a deep red are out for his delight to see.

That afternoon is the hottest in Jongin’s memory since quarantine started. Chanyeol prepared iced tea in the morning and they drink it on the couch, Stardust playing on the tv. Jongin’s head is on Chanyeol’s shoulder and Chanyeol’s hand rests over his thigh, his fingers toying absently with the fabric of Jongin’s joggers. During the movie, Jongin can’t stop thinking of how Chanyeol touched him, how his mouth had felt, hot and hungry, on his skin the previous day over the floor right next to the couch.

When the credits roll, Jongin is pressing his legs together so as not to show that he’s already half-hard in his pants. Chanyeol seems to notice his discomfort, for he drives his hands further up and palms over the growing tent in Jongin’s crotch. Chanyeol shifts so he can stare at Jongin, who whines and looks pointedly away.

“Shut up,” Jongin says, before Chanyeol can say anything. “It’s your stupid fault.”

“Why?” Chanyeol’s laugh is incredulous. “How’s it my fault?”

Jongin narrows his eyes at him. “Because you get me so horny and you know it. Don’t play dumb.”

A blush spreads from Jongin’s neck up to the tips of his ears at saying this. Chanyeol only seems amused by it; he does feign an apologetic smile that has more of a smug edge to it.

“Do I really affect you that much, huh?”

“Shut up,” Jongin repeats, folding his arms over his chest. “If you’re not going to do anything about it, you better stay quiet.”

Chanyeol hums with interest. “Do something about it?” He inches closer, dragging his mouth over Jongin’s jaw. He licks at the space under his ear, then tugs at his earlobe with his teeth. Jongin bites on his lip hard to not make a sound. “What do you want me to do?”

Chanyeol slips under the band of Jongin’s joggers to take his dick. A pleased noise comes when he realizes Jongin isn’t wearing any underwear. “Do you go commando around the house often?”

“Shut up, I just didn’t feel like wearing any today.”

“Please, keep at it, don’t mind me.”

Jongin levels him a glare. It’s interrupted when his eyes fall closed as Chanyeol’s fingers begin caressing his hardness. “I—I don’t—Fuck, I hate you.” Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, expectant. His smirk becomes crooked the more affected Jongin appears. Jongin chews his lip to contain a moan. “Just do whatever you want.”

“Alright,” Chanyeol chuckles. “C’mon, get up.”

“What?” Jongin’s eyes snap open to look at Chanyeol. Chanyeol has gotten to his feet, urging Jongin to follow by tugging at his arm. A disconcerted Jongin complies, only for Chanyeol to tug down his joggers down and off. Then, he’s indicating Jongin to kneel over the couch, his upper body leaning over the back. Like this, his ass is totally exposed to Chanyeol. A mix of self-consciousness and excitement swirl in the pit of his gut, anticipation thrumming in his veins as Chanyeol stands unseen behind him. Jongin’s about to turn his head when Chanyeol stops him with fingers on his neck.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Chanyeol asks. Jongin’s about to question him, when he feels Chanyeol push his cheeks apart, followed right after by his breath ghosting over his entrance. Jongin’s pulse quickens, his breath hitched in his throat. In the next second he’s whimpering at the first swath of Chanyeol’s tongue over his crack. Chanyeol alternates between swiping his tongue and probing his hole with it, over and over, until Jongin is a shaking mess, slumped over the back of the couch, gripping the fabric with a white-knuckled force.

“How’re you doing?”

“Fuck, Chanyeol…”

“I’ll take that as a ‘good’,” Chanyeol says, laughing quietly. His voice is raspy, deeper than usual, and it only adds to the fire burning in Jongin’s guts. God, he hates him.

“Fuck you,” Jongin spits, trying to straighten in his position. Chanyeol holds him down with a hand on his lower back, gently pushing him down again.

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Chanyeol promises. Jongin wants to retort, but he’s interrupted by Chanyeol’s fingers circling his hole. His tongue joins them. The breach of the first finger is met with a noise between a groan and a gasp from Jongin. He starts to unravel rapidly as Chanyeol adds more fingers, the last shreds of his self-control completely gone. The breadths of Chanyeol’s fingers are perfect, stretching Jongin better than his own fingers can, but it’s far from the real thing. And he needs that now.

When Chanyeol stops moving at one point, Jongin’s hips roll back on instinct, seeking the friction his fingers offer.

“Fuck, Jongin,” Chanyeol murmurs. “You’re so hot.”

“Chanyeol, if you don’t…” Jongin falters as Chanyeol spreads his fingers inside him. “Fuck, if you don’t fuck me now…”

“Tell me how you want it.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Jongin groans. Chanyeol’s deep laugh is a rumbly noise. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, okay?”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth on you.” Chanyeol shoves his fingers deep inside Jongin one last time, ripping a cry from Jongin, and then pulls them out completely.

Jongin’s panting for breath when his arms cave in on him and he crumbles over the back of the couch like a rag doll. There’s a rustling behind him and then the creaking of the couch as added weight sets upon it. Chanyeol’s hands slide over his sides comfortingly, his mouth peppering kisses over his nape—and the best surprise of all, the feel of his dick gliding over the back of Jongin’s thigh, the tip leaving a wet trail over his skin. He moans again, at the caresses Chanyeol is giving him, the sweet kisses, and because he wants, needs his dick inside him, but he’s too spent to beg for it. And another part of him is thrilled to see what Chanyeol has in store for him.

“Hi,” Jongin whispers, reaching between his legs to grab Chanyeol’s dick. Chanyeol’s sharp gasp gets a smile out of him. “You don’t know how much time I’ve spent fantasizing about your dick.”

“You’re so honest when you’re horny.” Chanyeol’s laugh is breathy, graveled, and it might be Jongin’s favorite among the ones he’s catalogued so far. He’d like to hear it more.

“Well, if you don’t get it inside me within the next minute,” Jongin says, “I’ll be very, very pissed.”

Chanyeol laughs again and removes his dick from Jongin’s hold. He isn’t prepared for Chanyeol to slide it between his asscheeks, where it rubs over his entrance. Jongin moans with every drag of the tip over his hole, wishing he could get ahold of it and push it inside himself. Chanyeol would likely stop him if he tried. His patience is wearing thin; he’s not above begging at this point.

Finally, Chanyeol moves off him, leaving a whiny Jongin on the couch. When he hears the rip of the condom packet, Jongin’s toes curl with the excitement flaring inside him. The cold of the lube has him gasping, then there’s the tip of Chanyeol’s dick at his entrance stealing his whole attention, hard as a rock, and he can’t help arching his back in an eager attempt to get it inside him quickly. Turning his head over his shoulder, he checks that Chanyeol’s smirk is as infuriating as he imagined, a frown of concentration marring his forehead that he’s only seen before when he’s gaming and he’s always found so absurdly hot.

Chanyeol wastes no time moving when he’s finally bottomed out. He gives Jongin all of three seconds to recover before he’s pulling out and thrusting back in with a fast thrust. Soon the sound of skin slapping on skin and Jongin’s high whines and moans fill the space, the little filthy praises Chanyeol leaves on his ears, accompanied by the bruises he’s imprinting into the skin of his hips with the tight grip he has there. Jongin hasn’t been fucked like this in so long, it’s all he can do not to touch himself and come all too quickly. Besides he doesn’t want to spill over the couch.

“Chanyeol, can I—” Jongin stops, moans. “Oh, god—Can—Can I ride you?”

“Let’s change,” Chanyeol pants, slapping his butt. Jongin mewls, not catching onto Chanyeol’s words until he’s pulling out and maneuvering Jongin away from the couch. Jongin’s legs are like jelly, and he’s almost regretting asking, until Chanyeol sits and his dick rests over his abdomen, upright and red and so, so fucking big, Jongin’s mouth waters at the sight. All too willingly, he lets Chanyeol tug him into his lap, his back to his chest, his thighs spread over his legs and his feet planted firmly on the floor. Chanyeol wastes no time in lining himself up and reentering Jongin, and Jongin sighs, like this is what he’s been missing all along, then begins bouncing, riding Chanyeol within an inch of his life.

Chanyeol traces hot hands over his body and pinches his nipples at random. It makes Jongin feel sexy, the way Chanyeol appreciates his body, only leaving his dick untouched. All the while whispering filthy praises of how perfect, how good Jongin is in his ears, among other things Jongin wouldn’t be able to repeat without cringing and laughing in embarrassment any other time. But right now, it gets him going like nothing else, Chanyeol’s voice, the evident want in his voice, the desperation in the gasps wedged between his words.

He can already tell Chanyeol is close by the way his hips begin faltering. A bit of panic rushes through him. “Wait.” He slips out of Chanyeol’s hold, and before he can ask, he sits back down in his lap, gripping Chanyeol’s dick to guide him inside him once again. “I wanna look at your face when you come.”

Chanyeol’s grin is wolfish. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and there’s a shine to his eyes that has his heart skipping a beat. He’ll have time to think about that later—right now he wants to come, and most importantly, he wants to make Chanyeol come. He uses all his energy to roll his hips, bounce and rut his ass over Chanyeol’s lap, but he’s closer to his orgasm than Chanyeol seems. When he’s tired, he leans back, hands perched on Chanyeol’s knees, and bucks his hips slowly, trying to gather his breath. Chanyeol plants his feet on the floor and grips his hips, pistoning his hips, with so much force Jongin would have surely come flying off his lap if Chanyeol wasn’t clutching at his hips. Jongin screams, unbidden, his head tipped back; he’s never been particularly loud in bed, but today has proved to be an exception.

Chanyeol grabs his dick in a strong fist, then he’s pressing his thumb to the slit and Jongin comes with a last shout, his hips moving off their own accord as he tries to ride off his orgasm. Chanyeol never stops throughout it all, not even as Jongin slumps over him, his head fitting over his shoulder, shudders taking over his body. Then, he pinches Chanyeol’s nipple, just a little harsh to be painful.

“Ouch,” Chanyeol hisses. “What was that for?”

“I didn’t want to come yet,” Jongin complains, pouting. “I wanted to make you come and you’re still hard.”

Chanyeol seeks his mouth and Jongin opens up for him. The kiss is open-mouthed, bordering on filthy, and Chanyeol’s fingers roaming over his entrance has his soft dick twitching.

“Use me,” Jongin whispers over Chanyeol’s mouth. “Come inside me.”

Chanyeol’s eyes are big with wonder. “Are you sure?”

Jongin nods, smiling. Chanyeol licks his lips, hesitant, then he’s clutching Jongin’s thighs and standing, throwing him back down over the couch on his side. Chanyeol kneels behind him, and Jongin has only a moment to gather his bearings before Chanyeol is lifting his leg over his shoulder and pressing back inside Jongin. Chanyeol thrusts with abandon, and Jongin moans, louder than before; he’s sensitive, he can’t stop the noises Chanyeol rips out of him with each thrust. Chanyeol strokes him until Jongin is almost hard, and he realizes then what Chanyeol is after.

“I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can,” Chanyeol says. His pace becomes faster, frantic, and Jongin wants to squirm away, he’s so sensitive. He grips the back of the couch for support and rolls his hips back to meet Chanyeol’s movements, each stroke of his dick hitting his spot sending shocks of extreme pleasure up his spine. It’s nothing he’s ever felt before, and it’s so overwhelming, Jongin isn’t sure he can hold on much longer. His free hand splays over Chanyeol’s thigh as his pace becomes erratic, his second orgasm looming close. It hits him at the same time Chanyeol’s does, because they both scream in unison, Chanyeol bending over Jongin until he’s nearly folded in half, driving himself deeper inside. Jongin throws his head back, his nails digging into Chanyeol’s skin, and his vision whitening as the tremors overtake him again.

When he comes to, Chanyeol’s head is on his chest, rising and falling in tandem with his breathing, both of Jongin’s legs on each side of Chanyeol’s body. Chanyeol is still inside him, softening by the second, sticky come and sweat covering his body. It’s going to be hard to take that stain out—and he immediately thinks of how he’s never going to be able to look at this couch again without remembering what they’ve done today.

Jongin laughs. Chanyeol lifts his head, blinking sluggishly, a dopey smile curling his lips. “What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking of how ugly your orgasm face is,” Jongin replies. Chanyeol’s face contorts with mock offense. Jongin laughs as Chanyeol pinches his side, trying and failing to wiggle away from his clutch. Chanyeol kisses his sternum, licks each of his nipples, and Jongin squirms, giggling, because he’s still a little sensitive.

Chanyeol continues his trip down, trailing kisses down his abdomen, stopping to stick his tongue into his belly button.

“Are you trying to get me going again?”

“What would you say if I said yes?”

“I’d say forget it, I don’t think I can do it,” Jongin says. “I’m too oversensitive.”

“Well, I can always return the favor and ride you.” Chanyeol draws a smirk over Jongin’s navel, meeting Jongin’s gaze before dipping to kiss his happy trail. “What’d you say to that?”

“You’re such a bastard,” Jongin says, grinning. Chanyeol blows him a kiss, making sure Jongin is looking when he licks over the tip of his soft dick. Jongin’s mouth falls open with a silent moan. It’s getting to him, even if he thought it was impossible. “Okay, I’m in but let’s go to your room. It’s getting cold in here.”

Chanyeol’s grin is triumphant. Jongin would make a comment on how he’s never going to see that grin when they’re playing games, if he wasn’t busy worrying over the fact Chanyeol might possibly be the end of him, and also the best thing that’s happened to him in his twenty-two years of life.

For the next two weeks, they manage to fuck on every surface in their apartment. They fuck on the living room frequently when their game gets boring, or one of them gets the other too riled up with purposeful touches. Jongin particularly likes fucking against walls, because he loves Chanyeol’s toned arms around him as he holds him up. Jongin fucks Chanyeol in the kitchen, bent over the table one time, because Chanyeol had exercised in these tiny shorts that Jongin wasted no time in pulling down to suck him off.

They also fuck a lot in the shower, a place they both like for their own reasons; Jongin because he gets to see Chanyeol naked and wet, and Chanyeol because he can press himself against Jongin and pin his arms over his head as he fucks him. But Jongin suspects it’s because he can wash Jongin’s hair and use his body wash on him, and Jongin admits he loves washing Chanyeol’s hair since he has to bend a little for him. Jongin will never say it, but he likes smelling Chanyeol on himself.

To say Jongin feels spoiled would be an understatement. He’s never had this much sex with anyone before, and that may be due to their living situation, but there’s also something about Chanyeol that makes him crave for more even after he’s already gotten off. He just keeps coming back for more and Chanyeol is ever so willing to give him a taste.

There are quiet, soft times as well, when Chanyeol falls asleep in his lap and Jongin struggles to get through a page in his book because Chanyeol looks pretty when he sleeps. And then there are times when they nap together on the couch, only to wake up and have sex again, lazy and unhurried, which might be Jongin’s favorite kind.

Best of all is that this new development doesn’t affect their friendship. Their routine remains more or less intact; they still cook together, watch movies or longue on the couch. Jongin reads and Chanyeol plays games, like usual, with the sole exception that now there are cuddles, sneaky kisses here and there, and that oftentimes said activities are interrupted for sex. But other than that, they bicker and joke and poke fun at each other just like before.

It’s a wonderful arrangement. One that Jongin really likes.

“So you like Zuko better than Aang?” Jongin questions. Chanyeol nods decidedly. “But Aang’s the freaking avatar!”

Chanyeol shrugs, slurps his smoothie. “It’s not like he’s more interesting because he’s the avatar. Zuko is much more complex and interesting and cool.”

“The Avatar is pretty freaking cool,” Jongin argues. “He’s the avatar.”

“You keep repeating that, but I’m still not convinced,” Chanyeol says, bemused. The straw of his smoothie is trapped at the corner of his mouth. Jongin’s eyes fall on his lips for a second too long.

“Maybe we should watch it,” Jongin says, already bringing up Netflix on the tv. “We need to settle this once and for all. Next thing you’re going to tell me that you like Korra better than Aang…”

Chanyeol hums in agreement. Jongin gawks at him.

“She’s pretty cool!”

“She’s cool but she’s not the best avatar…”

“That’s because Kyoshi is the best avatar.” Chanyeol smirks like he’s won the argument. Jongin won’t ever admit this is when he finds him the most attractive, when he’s looking like a smug little shit after he’s made a point that he’s particularly confident of.

“Let’s see what you think after we’ve watched everything again.”

Chanyeol has a lenient smile as he glances at Jongin. That smile appears whenever Jongin wants anything, like going for a walk after breakfast or cuddling on the couch during a movie. Just the other day, Jongin had convinced Chanyeol to let him suck him off in the kitchen, and Chanyeol had hesitated, because of health risks, but he’d given up with that same smile etched on his face.

“Alright,” Chanyeol concedes. “I’ll go to the bathroom first.”

“Okie,” Jongin says. Every time he says that, Chanyeol grins, scrunches his nose and ruffles Jongin’s hair because he finds it adorable for some reason. It’s just a dumb expression Jongin can’t drop.

He’s still smiling when Chanyeol enters the bathroom. Chanyeol’s phone pings beside him on the couch and something on the screen catches Jongin’s attention. Jongin throws a quick glance in the direction of the bathroom, checking for noises that may tell him Chanyeol is about to come out—and then he’s pressing the center button in the bottom of the device to see the screen again. There are a couple of notifications for new texts, but what steals his attention is the picture in the background: a selfie they had taken together on a walk around the neighborhood a couple of days ago.

Jongin is entirely confused as to why Chanyeol would have that picture as his lock screen, but he doesn’t have much time to ponder it because Chanyeol leaves the bathroom and Jongin scrambles to grab his own phone to pretend to be occupied with something. When Chanyeol joins him back on the couch, he doesn’t seem to notice anything is amiss, though Jongin’s mind is racing with his discovery.

“He has what?!”

“A picture of us,” Jongin repeats into the phone. “As his lock screen.”

“Oh my god.” Baekhyun’s pixelated leer switches to a huge beam. “That’s so cute! Wait until I tell Sehun about this!”

“No, don’t tell him,” Jongin hisses, pressed. “He’s never going to let it go.”

“Why are you whispering?” Baekhyun laughs, then he’s moving closer to the phone, only one of his eyes visible. “Is he there?”

“He’s taking a shower,” Jongin tells him, raising his voice a notch. “He’s probably going to be out soon.”

Jongin had used Chanyeol taking a shower as an opportunity to call Baekhyun and tell him about the picture. It had been in his mind all day and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’s kept Baekhyun and Sehun updated on the development of his Chanyeol problem, though he’d left some details out, like how they’d fucked on the couch and all the other times after that.

“Well, you better take the chance to get some action.” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows. “Offer to put his lotion on for him or something.”

“You’re not helpful at all.”

Baekhyun cackles, unfazed by Jongin’s pouting. He guesses it only works on Chanyeol. Then, the door to the bathroom is flying open and Jongin ends the call just as Baekhyun is about to speak, most likely to say something compromising. He’s in his room, but he can never be too careful, especially not with Baekhyun’s tendency to be loud and unfiltered.

In the end, Jongin had gotten nowhere with his issue about the picture. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was overreacting, and that perhaps Chanyeol just really likes that selfie. Though he couldn’t say that the elation he felt along with his confusion at finding the lock screen, and that he was secretly thrilled at the thought of Chanyeol liking that picture with him enough to want to see it frequently.

During the following days, Jongin has managed to keep Chanyeol’s lock screen issue out of his thoughts. He’d concluded it was an invasion of Chanyeol’s privacy that he’d checked his phone without his permission, even if it was locked, and so Jongin resolved to not bring it up in fear of what Chanyeol’s reaction might be.

One day, while he’s two fingers deep in Chanyeol’s ass, he gets a reminder.

Chanyeol is writhing on the floor, his face scrunched up in pleasure, his long, lithe legs spread around Jongin. It’s such a sight to behold, the way he’s completely surrendered to Jongin’s ministrations, beautiful and gorgeous and desperate, all milky skin and wiry muscles, shaking and pleading. Jongin needs to get a picture of him like this, one that he can keep to himself like Chanyeol with that selfie.

“I’m going to add another finger.”

Chanyeol nods twice, urgent. His bottom lip is trapped under his teeth, but his mouth slackens with a gasp at the first breach of Jongin’s three fingers inside him. Chanyeol uses his feet on the floor to buck his hips down and fuck himself on Jongin’s fingers, his grip on his own dick firm so as to hold back his orgasm.

Jongin is completely in awe. Not for the first time he wishes he could burn a moment with Chanyeol into his memory.

“Fuck, Jongin,” Chanyeol pants, halting his motions. “You better fuck me now or I’ll come soon.”

“Right on.”

Jongin fucks him like that on the floor. Chanyeol’s ass is on his lap, his fingers imprinting bruises over Chanyeol’s hips as he thrusts into him, fast and hard, the slapping of flesh on flesh only accompanied by Chanyeol’s own moans.

When they come, they lie there, trying to gather their breaths. Jongin nuzzles Chanyeol’s cheek, and Chanyeol angles his head just the slightest bit so they can kiss. It’s more of a rub of their mouths over each other’s, a greeting, but it’s sweet and comforting all the same.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Chanyeol’s post-sex voice is graveled, raspy, and so, so hot. “You know how I talk to my parents every week? My mom asked if she could meet you, through videocall of course.”

Jongin whips around to look at Chanyeol. Chanyeol adverts his gaze with a shy smile. It endears Jongin somewhat, but the anxiety rising within him at the mention of meeting Chanyeol’s parents overpowers any other feeling.

“Meeting your mom?”

“Yeah, I’ve told her a bit about you,” Chanyeol tells him. “Since we’re rooming, and she wants to know how you’re like because I’ve told her we got along pretty well…”

Jongin wonders if he’s told her about what’s really going between them… but then again, Jongin himself doesn’t know what’s exactly going on. He wouldn’t know what to call it if someone were to ask him.

“That would be nice.”

Chanyeol’s round eyes open wide, then they crinkle with joy and—Jongin notices, with a tug at his heartstrings—a little bit of relief.

“I thought you’d say no,” Chanyeol reveals. “And I’d have to work on convincing you.”

There’s enough implication in his words and the wicked crook of his smile for Jongin to guess what kind of things he would do to convince him.

“I should’ve thought about it a little more then.”

Chanyeol laughs, tapping his knuckles on Jongin’s sternum for reprimand. Then, he drapes his fingers over Jongin’s nape to draw him for a kiss. Jongin’s heart does that little skip that puzzles him, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it.

Mama Park is adoring and welcoming and warm, just like Chanyeol. And Jongin wasn’t expecting anything less from her; he can tell Chanyeol got his warmth and easygoing personality from her.

Jongin had fretted over meeting her since Chanyeol brought it up. Snap out of it, Sehun had told him over the phone. It’s not like he’s proposing to you. You’re just meeting his mom.

So Jongin’s anxiety had been proven wrong and everything had gone well. But there was something that made Jongin’s chest twist in an uncomfortable way: Chanyeol had introduced him as his roommate and only mentioned him as his friend. The terms conjure warring emotions within him that dampen his mood like rain in a sunny day. Which was the last thing he expected.

They had joked and bickered as usual, and Jongin kept his smile on, but as soon as the Zoom call was over, he mumbled an excuse about studying for an exam and locked up in his room for the rest of the afternoon. Nothing he reads sticks. All he thinks about is Chanyeol calling him his friend over and over.

If that’s all Jongin is to Chanyeol, then what’s going to happen when they eventually return to their normal lives? Are they going to stop fucking? Or are they going to fuck whenever they spend time together until one of them meets someone else? Jongin isn’t sure why he’s so disappointed at that prospect, because he realizes now that he never agreed to more. Neither did Chanyeol.

And if they do get together, what will happen with them if it doesn’t work out? Will he have to move out? Will Chanyeol have to move out? He was definitely thinking with his dick when he decided to go for Chanyeol because he didn’t consider all these possibilities, and now they’ve taken root in his mind like a virus.

That night he intends to sleep in his room after dinner, but something in Chanyeol’s gaze, unreadable, withholding, intrigues him. And when he comes up behind him while he’s washing the dishes and kisses him breathless against the sink, he succeeds in crushing his conviction to dust.

That night, instead, Chanyeol fucks him on his stomach, so hard the bedframe slams against the wall. Though the rattling of the bedframe is not nearly as loud as Jongin. He comes untouched, scrabbling desperately at the sheets, his teeth sunk in his pillow. Chanyeol leaves teeth marks on his shoulder when he climaxes, buried deep inside him, and falls on top of him, only to roll over and drag a boneless Jongin into a lazy kiss that makes his toes curl.

Jongin has never felt as comfortable and safe as he does in Chanyeol’s arms, his head nestled into his chest and his heart thumping against his ear. After Chanyeol falls asleep, puffing out quiet snores, Jongin can’t stop thinking about how fucked he is.

“What’s the problem exactly?”

Jongin had gone out for a run after lunch. It was a cheap excuse to get away from the apartment. They had made out on the couch for hours after breakfast until their lips had gone numb and Chanyeol had reluctantly gotten up to make lunch. Worst of all was that Jongin didn’t want to let him go.

“You didn’t listen to everything I just said?”

“I just heard that you like fucking your roommate,” Sehun drawls. Jongin figures he’s just woken up, even though it’s nearly three in the afternoon. “Like, a lot. And you would like for it to continue, but you’re too chicken to tell him.”

“Well, yeah.” Jongin hates himself for agreeing with his friend. Sehun can be a douchebag, but he has a way of seeing straight past Jongin’s bullshit. It’s a practice they’ve both mastered after years of knowing each other. “But it’s going to make things weird because he’s never said anything about us being more than roommates.”

“But he’s also never said anything to hint the opposite, hasn’t he?” Sehun sighs. Jongin can imagine him rubbing his temples. “I think you’re just overthinking this, like you always do. You’re going to end up convincing yourself that you’re going to fuck everything up, so you don’t have to admit that you really like this guy and you want to have his adopted babies.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is easy, you just don’t want to see it that way.”

Jongin sighs, realizes he’s been outside too long. Chanyeol must be wondering where he is, looking out the window to see if he’s close.

He tells Sehun he’ll call him later and ends the call. Chanyeol is on the couch watching a movie when Jongin returns to the apartment. He smiles amiably at Jongin as he rounds the couch to sit next to him.

“Hey, you were gone for a while,” Chanyeol says. “I started the movie without you. Sorry.”

“That’s fine.” Jongin slouches against Chanyeol, his head falling to his shoulder. Chanyeol always, without fail, accommodates him, wrapping an arm around his waist to draw him impossibly close. “You can tell me what I missed.”

At some point, they wind up on their sides, Jongin to Chanyeol’s chest. It’s more comfortable this way, and Jongin loves that he can feel Chanyeol’s body behind him, his arms caging him safely. Jongin lost track of the plot a long time ago, too distracted by the noises coming from Chanyeol whenever something happens on screen and his fingers playing with Jongin’s over his front. Jongin twists and kisses Chanyeol, swallowing his gasp of surprise that soon turns into pleasure.

Chanyeol wastes no time to slip under the waistband of Jongin’s boxers, and stops there, his fingers rubbing circles over his hipbone. His touch is teasing, featherlight, and Jongin needs more. So he tugs at Chanyeol’s bottom lip and sneaks under Chanyeol’s shirt to roam over his abs. Smirks over Chanyeol’s mouth at the gasp he elicits when he flicks his nipple.

“I don’t know if it’s a hard choice to make,” Jongin murmurs, “but do you want to ride me or keep watching the movie?”

“Tough choice indeed,” Chanyeol jokes. “Inception has Leonardo Dicaprio…”

“Oh, wow. So he’s hotter than me?”

“He wouldn’t make as cute a boyfriend as you do, that’s for sure.”

Jongin’s breath evaporates in his lungs. Everything seems to still in the moment, and then Chanyeol’s mouth is falling open when he realizes what he’s said, his eyes searching Jongin’s face. Jongin’s mind is racing, but he manages to keep his smile from faltering.

“Don’t call me cute now,” Jongin mumbles. “You’re ruining the mood.”

Chanyeol chuckles and sucks on his lower lip. He’s nervous, Jongin can tell. Guilt rushes through him, because he’s not brave enough to acknowledge what Chanyeol said at the moment. So he cups Chanyeol’s cheek and kisses him, as hard as he can to dissipate any awkwardness between them.

Chanyeol’s legs are wrapped snugly around his waist when he rides Jongin within an inch of his life. Chanyeol is never quiet, sensitive to each of his touches, and it drives Jongin crazy. It’s a wonder they haven’t gotten any noise complaints from their neighbors yet.

Jongin places Chanyeol on his back, and that’s how he comes, hips flushed to Chanyeol’s ass and his head on his shoulder. Chanyeol is rock hard still, so Jongin flops to the bed, flips Chanyeol on his side and buries three fingers inside him, his other hand stroking him to completion. Chanyeol arching against him gets him hard again. He drags his dick over his crack for friction until Chanyeol guides him back inside himself with trembling hands, not before Jongin asks him if he’s sure.

Chanyeol comes for the second time with a shout, clawing the sheets and Jongin’s thigh in tandem. Jongin bites his shoulder when his orgasm hits him, his vision going white and blacking out for a moment. When he comes to, he gathers Chanyeol in his arms and kisses over the patch of skin where he can see his teeth marks. He’s content, sated, and most importantly, elated.

“I’m going to start on dinner,” Chanyeol mutters moments later. Before Jongin can protest, Chanyeol slips out of his arms and puts on his shorts. They usually take their time cuddling after sex, basking in the afterglow. So it’s disorienting that Chanyeol avoids his gaze while he dresses and scurries out of his room.

Chanyeol had finally cleared up the question of what Jongin was to him in the most unexpected way. It seems so inconsequential in retrospect, because it hadn’t changed anything, but it was Jongin’s reaction to it what hurt Chanyeol. He’d fucked everything up, just like he knew he would.

Jongin falls asleep on his pillow and sheets that smell like Chanyeol. When he awakens hours later, he’s alone in the bed and the apartment is in darkness. It’s cold for a spring night, and he realizes it’s because he’d gotten used to sleeping with Chanyeol’s heat.

Everything seems normal the following day. Chanyeol kisses him good morning, but he’s not his usual chatty self; instead he sits to eat with Jongin in silence and responds to his comments with only half of his recurrent energy.

Jongin plants himself on the couch, hopeful that Chanyeol will come over and demand cuddles like every day, but Chanyeol heads to his room with the excuse of video calling his mom and remains there for the rest of the day.

Disappointment sinks deep into his chest. Jongin now realizes how different his life is since Chanyeol came into it. All the warmth and laughter and comfort he brought along with him that had been missing for so long and he’d learned to live without. How his presence makes him feel cared for and safe in a way he never felt with any of his exes.

He doesn’t want to let go of Chanyeol.

How’d it go, Sehun texts him hours later.

I fucked up.

Sehun sends a string of facepalming emojis. Jongin thinks they’re deserved.

You’re an idiot.

Jongin thinks he also deserves that. “I am an idiot,” he says to no one.

The power goes out on a Wednesday evening. They lit candles in the living room, and since there’s no point in staying in their respective rooms, they longue on the couch, Jongin reading and Chanyeol knitting, a hobby he’d taken up lately.

They haven’t had the talk yet, and it feels like it’s sitting here with them. At least for Jongin it is, Chanyeol doesn’t seem to be out of sorts at all, though his perpetual smile seems a little lackluster today. At first Jongin thought it was because Chanyeol had misunderstood Jongin’s reaction to the term boyfriend, but now, as they sit in silence, he realizes it’s probably because Chanyeol thinks Jongin must want some distance. A twinge of something stirs in Jongin’s chest at the thought of Chanyeol doing this for him, even if it’s not what he himself wants.

After an hour of excruciating silence, Jongin’s finally had enough of this. “Chanyeol,” he says, putting his book down. Chanyeol glances from the scarf he’s knitting, his gaze flicking back down in an instant. “Can you come here? I wanna cuddle.”

Chanyeol appears puzzled. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m cold,” Jongin says, smiling. “Come here.”

Chanyeol says softly, “Okay,” after a moment and leaves his knitting at the sofa to sit beside him. He doesn’t move closer to Jongin, so he has to scoot over until their bodies are pressed together and throw the blanket over Chanyeol’s legs.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really,” Chanyeol admits. Little by little, he relaxes, releasing a long breath. “But you’re like a furnace. I could never be that cold.”

“You are a furnace to me,” Jongin retorts. “It’s why I like cuddling you so much.”

“Oh, so that is your reason?” Chanyeol teases. Jongin nuzzles his head into his shoulder and neck so he can’t see his expression, but his voice sounds merry. “And here I thought you liked me.”

Jongin could let the moment pass and change the subject, crack a dumb joke to take the weight off the sentence. But he doesn’t. He’s done pretending.

“I do like you,” Jongin says. “A lot.”

Chanyeol stiffens, wide-eyed. Jongin counts three heartbeats before Chanyeol lets out the breath he’d been holding. “I know you do.”

The response is so unexpected Jongin takes a second to process. And he’s laughing through his nose, sitting back and slugging Chanyeol’s shoulder for his trouble. Like this, he gets to see Chanyeol’s mischievous smile and that dimple that disarms Jongin like a punch to the gut. There’s wonder in his gaze as it flits over Jongin’s face, like he’s trying to confirm something and can’t get enough of him at the same time.

“You’re annoying,” Jongin says. “I take it back.”

Chanyeol wraps his arms around Jongin and lifts him effortlessly to place him on his lap. Jongin huffs, fits his thighs on each side of Chanyeol’s hips and locks his arms over his shoulders. The look on Chanyeol’s face is openly affectionate, and Jongin doesn’t shy away from it this time. He indulges in it, drowns in it. Can feel some of that adoration dripping off of him as well.

“You can’t take it back,” Chanyeol says. “It’s out there and it’s known to me. And I won’t forget it because you look cute when you blush.”

Jongin’s chest tightens. In a good way. “Shut up.”

“And you look cute when you tell me to shut up.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. Chanyeol laughs and kisses his nose. Jongin tells him, “You’re corny.”

“And you like me anyway,” Chanyeol says. “What if I take you on a date tonight? Well, not really a date since we can’t go outside, but we can have a nice dinner… We already got the candles out here.”

“A date?” Jongin muses, burying his fingers in Chanyeol’s curls. He has a hunch of what he means and his heart rate accelerates with anticipation. “What’s the occasion?”

“That’s what people do when they’re dating… they go on dates.”

“And we’re dating?” Jongin pushes Chanyeol’s hair off his forehead. “Huh, I had no clue.”

“You’re so…” Chanyeol chuckles, shakes his head. Jongin grins and kisses him. Chanyeol sighs into the kiss like he’s been waiting ages for it. Jongin has too, in some ways.

Jongin tugs at Chanyeol’s shirt until he lifts his arms to remove it, then guides Jongin to do the same. With one arm around his middle, he sets Jongin on his back over the couch, kneeling between his legs to kiss down his abdomen. Jongin loves it when Chanyeol manhandles him, to the point he’s already getting hard in his pants.

As Chanyeol is folding his fingers over the hem of his joggers, an idea occurs to Jongin. “Wait, I got something to show you.”

Chanyeol looks up, befuddled at being sidetracked in his task of getting Jongin naked. “What?”

Jongin fishes his phone out of the couch cushions and points the screen to Chanyeol. “We’re even now.”

He’d changed his lock screen days ago, but he hadn’t shown it to Chanyeol. It’s a picture he’d taken of Chanyeol sleeping one morning, his cheeks puffed out and his mouth parted, his hair in disarray. Jongin thought he looked a little silly but also overly cute, and more than anything, he wanted to keep that image forever.

“Oh my god.” Chanyeol’s entire face colors. “That’s my face on your…”

“I saw that you had our picture in your lock screen,” Jongin says, smiling apologetically. Chanyeol doesn’t seem mad that he knows, mostly perplexed. “And I wanted to do the same.”

It’s hard to pinpoint an exact emotion on Chanyeol’s face. There’s affection in his gaze, but his mouth is pulled down at the corners, and Jongin fears he’s going to cry. He’s about to ask what’s wrong, when Chanyeol plunges onto him, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss. They kiss for so long they almost forget to take a breath and only use that pause to get the rest of their clothes off. 

“I guess we can make dinner later,” Jongin pants. Chanyeol is kissing down his navel and he gasps when he sweeps his tongue over the base of his dick.

Chanyeol hums. “I feel like eating you right now.”

To punctuate this, he puts Jongin’s legs over his shoulders, lifting his ass up in the air. Jongin laughs, blissful and light, his heart full to the brim. Perhaps Chanyeol is the best thing that’s happened to him after all. And from the fondness simmering in Chanyeol’s eyes, he has an inkling that the feeling is reciprocated.

“Alright, get to it then.”