Work Text:
>>>Listen to Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic on loop.
“I fantasize about those nights you held me down, and sewed your lips to mine. Now I miss that pain sometimes. In this so-called life, there were shortcuts to heaven through your eyes.”
The smell of motor oil and nicotine were strong.
Chan fiddled with the hem of his black Nirvana tshirt, pops of luminous yellow peeking through hollowed spots on the angel. The scent of artificial watermelon wafted through the air from Minho’s vape, eyes slightly dazed from a high that he couldn't even chase.
Grass crunched beneath the nylon of the tent as Minho rolled onto his stomach, running long fingers through pale blonde locks that had blown right into his face.
Fucking majestic he was.
Chan gulped, because he hated to admit that Minho had always been beautiful. In an obsessed over Vic Fuentes way but still beautiful nonetheless.
He was sprawled across the tent on his stomach, a ripped Led Zeppelin shirt draped over his lean frame, safety pin earring jangling with each movement of his head. Chipped black nail polish gleamed slightly underneath the flashlight that Chan had pointed at him, a stream of white slicing through the dullness of the tent.
“Have you heard 12 fractures?”
He asked lazily, orange vape hitting Chan square in the chest with a careless throw.
“Ow!”
Minho rolled his eyes.
“Answer the question, dumbass.”
“No.”
Big mistake.
Because that, ladies and gentlemen, was the only thing Chan remembered before Minho crashed right into him like a military grade missile. Chan felt the air get knocked out of his lungs as Minho tackled him onto the ground of the tent, his shaggy pale hair damp with sweat.
The tent swayed like a warning.
“Oi!”
He yelped, arms flaying around in the air as Minho laid atop him languidly.
“Sorry not sorry boy kisser.”
“YOU’RE A BOY KISSER TOO!”
Minho giggled.
“Boys are pretty.”
Chan would have screamed, but instead froze when he noticed that he could feel every inch of Minho’s body pressed against his in a canvas of warmth.
Oh shit.
He gulped, looking anywhere but at Minho-
“You look like you’re about to pop a boner.”
Chan exploded an infuriatingly bright shade of crimson.
“Shut up.”
“No.”
“Motherfucker.”
“Yours specifically.”
Chan groaned, head slamming against the ground of the tent as Minho refused to remove himself from him.
The tent moved an awful lot with them shuffling inside it.
Minho paused.
“People are gonna think we’re having sex in here.”
Chan’s mouth blew wide open, the skin of his throat flushing a dangerous red, the warmth disappearing into the neckline of his shirt.
“We should prove them right.”
Chan opened his mouth, only for the words to get stuck deep inside his chest, an embarrassing noise escaping him instead.
“You’re fucking insane.”
Minho grinned, his long hair brushing Chan’s Adam's apple as he buried his face into his broad chest, muscular and sturdy underneath the baggy fabric.
“You think I don’t see how you look at me?”
Chan choked.
Oh fuck.
Gerard Way couldn’t save him now.
“I-I- I- I- I- I-”
Minho settled himself better on top of Chan, eyebrow raising higher with each time Chan stuttered out a broken “I”, voice cracking uselessly.
“I I I I I I I I?”
“Stop that!”
“Pussy.”
“You’re the pussy.”
“Nuh.”
“I’m not a pussy!”
“If you’re not a pussy then kiss me.”
Chan groaned into his palm, cheeks flushed an impossible red as he watched the corner of Minho’s lip tugging upwards, hair swooshing to the side as he tilted his head lazily.
“Pussy pussy pussy pussy pussy-
Minho chimed, clearly enjoying himself.
“Fuck you!”
“Exactly what I want you to do.”
“Ugh!”
“When are you gonna quit being a pussy and grow a dick?”
“You absolute dipshi-
“Pussy pussy pussy pussy pussy pussy pussy pussy PUSSY-”
Chan grabbed the front of Minho’s shirt.
“Fine!”
He yanked him forward, catching his lips in a desperate kiss to redeem himself of the repetitive name calling.
Minho hummed into his mouth, tongue slipping in through a moment of weakness where Chan parted his lips to gasp for air. He curled his fingers into Chan’s jaw, cupping his face and tilting his head to the side to nibble on his ear.
This wasn't exactly new either, they had kissed before in circumstances painfully similar to this.
Whatever ‘this’ was.
Music bled into their ears from Minho’s mini bluetooth speaker, playlist on shuffle for hours.
“Uh, she was always dealing with the devil
She was always into taking those chances, yeah
She said she met a couple other women who were into going late night dancing, yeah
Then she fell in love with a pill that could take away all her pain, uh-”
They were both higher than the moon, skin flushed with nicotine and cannabis, pupils slightly dilated and mouths clashing against each other in a frenzy of drugged haze.
“Mh fuck Min-
Chan knew that he would regret tasting the artificial watermelon on Minho the next morning, his fingertips sliding underneath his baggy shirt and brushing a gentle line up from his narrow waist to his ribs.
Minho dragged his tongue in a sinful curve from the edge of Chan’s ear to the base of his neck, mouth closing around warm skin that smelled like soap and cigarette smoke.
Chan’s eyes rolled back.
He didn’t know if it was from Minho or the drugs in his system.
“You smell nice.”
He murmured in a hushed whisper of breath, hand sliding underneath Chan’s shirt and curling into his left pec, thumb brushing the dark skin of his chest.
Chan was too dazed to answer anyway.
“Then she fell in love with a whole new drug that could fill her veins and then-
She's high (high)
She lives in the sky
Tonight, she's satisfied (satisfied)
Rolling back her eyes-”
“My vision’s fuzzy.”
Minho murmured, voice hoarse and gravelly as he reached to pull Chan’s shirt over his head.
“That’s probably the weed.”
Minho huffed.
“Weed doesn’t make you want your best friend inside of you.”
Chan gazed up at him, and threw his head back when Minho lewdly kissed a stripe down the center of his chest, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin.
Minho took a drag of his vape, and exhaled right onto Chan’s abdomen, smoke glazing over skin that addiction ran beneath, veins flooded with syrupy nicotine.
“You taste better than this shit anyway.”
He reached for the edge of his own shirt before slowly dragging it over his head, baring his pale torso to the cool air.
Chan could barely speak.
“You.. you want me inside of you?”
Minho nodded, pupils more dilated than before.
“Mm.”
“Boiling water
Dying in an empty corner
Tied to aluminum borders
She tried, but the obsidian caught her, yeah, uh
And it might seem like she's crazy
By the things that she might say, but
While you're talking, she shoots diamorphine right into her veins, and then-”
“I think that’s the weed talking.”
Minho scoffed, grabbing Chan’s hands to lay them flat against his torso, the warmth of his palms coming into contact with the freezing cold of his hips.
“You think I give a shit?”
Chan squeezed Minho’s waist, leeching for the warmth that sat beneath skin, stealing a drag of the vape as smoke curled up into the air as he exhaled.
“Clearly not.”
He paused for a second, dragging his fingers down to tease the ridges of Chan’s stomach.
“Do you care…?”
“No.”
Minho tilted his head, laying his chin atop Chan’s hip, dangerously close to the zipper of his black cargo pants.
“Are you satisfied?”
“With what?”
“Me.”
Chan blinked, sobering up ever so slightly at the question.
“Why wouldn't I be?”
Minho shrugged, teeth catching onto the silver zipper of his cargos, dragging down until it caught at the edge, cheek resting against his thigh.
“Because I feel like I’m your only excuse to go get high.”
Chan raised an eyebrow.
“I get high with you because you don’t talk bullshit when you’re high.”
Minho huffed, smiling into the rough fabric of Chan’s cargos.
“Mean.”
“It’s the truth.”
“So you think I talk bullshit when I’m not high?”
Chan threw an arm over his eyes.
“You’re just… more honest when you’re high.”
He rolled his eyes and got off of Chan, laying next to him beneath the tent roof, cheeks flushed a gentle shade of rose, not even resisting when Chan shifted on top of him.
The Lord knew Minho was just as idiotically in love with Chan as much as he was.
“Baby.”
Minho melted like cold butter underneath a warmed knife, heat pooling into his stomach at the word ‘baby’, at the way it rolled in a deep husk of Chan’s tongue.
“Don’t call me that.”
Chan huffed and buried his face into Minho’s neck, hands sliding beneath his waist to maneuver his legs to wrap around him.
“You like it.”
“Mm.”
“You’re not even going to fight it anymore?”
Minho stretched his arms above his head languidly, palm sliding painfully low on Chan’s torso, curling into the belt loops of his trousers.
“No.”
Chan groaned when Minho pressed his fingertips onto the bulge that had formed in his cargo trousers, stopping himself from sliding his hand completely beneath the fabric and cupping him within his palm.
“Baby… ”
“Well you lied, you said that you were fine.
But now you’re terrified,
because you don’t wanna die.
And then you start to cry.”
“What do you want, Min?”
Chan asked softly, gently removing his hand from palming the bulge in his trousers, keeping them pinned lazily above his head.
“You.”
Chan tilted his head.
“You already have me.”
Minho stretched himself languidly beneath Chan,
“You’re mine?”
“Yeah.”
Minho seemed to sober slightly at that, pupils returning back to normal from their dilated haze.
“I’m yours too.”
Chan smiled,
“You and me together in heaven one day?”
Minho dragged a line of kisses down his jaw, fingers curling into his chest, leaving little crescents from his finger nails against warmed skin.
“We’re too sinful to see heaven one day.”
Chan chuckled lazily, grabbing a rolled up blunt that was probably smoked out already. Not that he cared.
“I didn’t mean that heaven.”
Minho raised an eyebrow.
“What did you mean then?”
Chan inhaled the weed, exhaling softly, letting Minho inhale a drag from the same joint, fingers curled around the rolled up sheath.
He watched as Minho’s eyes rolled back slightly, exhaling the smoke in a cloud of gentle mist.
“What I meant was,”
Chan started, watching deep into Minho’s eyes.
“That I always go to heaven and back when I’m with you.”
“She's high (high)
She lives in the sky
Tonight, she's satisfied (satisfied)
Rolling back her eyes
But then, she starts to cry (to cry)
Everything is turning to black
All in one night (one night)
She just went to heaven and back .”