Work Text:
“Thanks,” Chan says at the door after they’ve finished, tucked back into his clothes but still sweaty underneath — he never showers at Wonwoo’s place, just wipes himself down before he leaves. He hasn’t quite caught his breath yet. Wonwoo smiles back, looking a little uncertain. Chan can’t hold back the urge to laugh — Wonwoo always looks a little uncertain afterward, which is completely ridiculous given what he does to Chan every time he comes over.
Wonwoo doesn’t laugh along.
“You — ” he starts instead, making an awkward move like he’s going to come forward from his bedroom doorway. He cuts himself off before he can finish, though, and he stays where he is.
Chan pauses with his hand on the door handle, tilting his head.
“I what?”
Nothing on Wonwoo’s face gives him away, but that isn’t really a surprise. Wonwoo’s pretty blank most of the time. Chan kind of likes that he never knows what he’s thinking — it makes it hotter, what Wonwoo does to him. Not knowing how Wonwoo really wants until he starts to lose control. His body gives him away, at least in the moment, but Chan doesn’t know how Wonwoo feels about him outside of that. He knows Wonwoo wants him, though. That’s what’s important.
Wonwoo shakes his head instead of answering Chan’s question.
“Nothing,” he says, reaching up adjust his glasses. “Sorry.”
Chan squints at him a moment a longer, but Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change. If they were still in his bedroom Chan could get it out of him, probably, or at least he could push Wonwoo until he lost some of that awkward posture.
Chan’s dressed now, though, and he just remembered it’s already Tuesday. He has an afternoon practice with Soonyoung scheduled to start in — he glances down at his phone screen — seventeen minutes. No time to try for round two.
“It’s chill, hyung,” he says, smiling at Wonwoo as he presses the button to unlock the door behind him, twisting the handle to open it. “I’ll see you around, right?”
Wonwoo waits in the doorway until Chan leaves.
“Late,” Soonyoung remarks when Chan slips into the studio two minutes after their practice was supposed to start, and Chan grimaces to hide his flush. Soonyoung knows about it, Chan’s pretty sure. Or — he knows what Chan does in his spare time. Chan’s doesn’t know if Soonyoung knows who he does it with. Either way, Chan guesses it doesn’t matter. He’s not embarrassed that Soonyoung knows he’s getting fucked. At least Chan’s sensible enough to keep the details to himself — Soonyoung spares Chan nothing, once he’s got a few drinks in him, and Chan’s heard way more than he ever needed to about his vanilla sex life with Seokmin.
It’s a little embarrassing that Chan can’t keep things separate, though. He doesn’t know why he can’t keep his head on straight.
“It won’t happen again,” he promises Soonyoung, smirking when Soonyoung raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“I mean it!” he laughs, reaching out his hands in a placating gesture. Soonyoung narrows his eyes and doesn’t look at all convinced.
They’re filming today’s practice, which Chan had also forgotten. He looks like shit, eyeliner from the day before still smudged under his eyes. His hair is greasy and due for a dye, roots grown out more than he’d like. Soonyoung fixes the eyeliner as best he can and hands Chan a beanie for his hair, which Chan takes gratefully before he pulls his hoodie off to get ready to warm up. It takes his shirt with it, exposing the skin of his chest before he can free a hand to pull it back down. He fixes his shirt and tosses the hoodie to the side, only to look up and find Soonyoung staring at him, eyes fixed on Chan’s now-covered torso.
“Wow,” he says, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. Chan leans over to shove his shoulder before he moves toward the mirror to check his reflection again.
“Jealous, hyung?” he teases, laughing at the way Soonyoung’s cheeks flush as he splutters out a denial.
“Seriously, Chan-ah. Wonwoo did that? Jeon Wonwoo?” Soonyoung asks once he’s gotten control of himself. Chan pauses where he’d been fixing his hair under his beanie, glancing at the reflection of Soonyoung’s face through the mirror — Soonyoung’s still staring at his waist.
So much for Soonyoung not knowing who Chan was fucking.
Chan nods, grinning at him, but Soonyoung doesn’t smile back. His eyebrows are knit together in something that looks an awful lot like concern.
Chan keeps smiling, but a weird feeling settles in his stomach at the look on Soonyoung’s face. He doesn't like it — Chan doesn’t care what most people think of him, but Soonyoung isn’t most people. He’s never made Chan feel bad about himself before, and he’s never acted like he didn’t trust Chan to take care of himself. Chan’s not going to let him start now.
But when Soonyoung opens his mouth again, Chan isn’t the one he seems worried about.
“I didn’t think Wonwoo was into the stuff you’re into,” he says, still frowning.
Chan wrinkles his nose, not really sure what Soonyoung is trying to say.
“Well, he is.”
Soonyoung’s not usually judgmental about Chan’s choices, but he doesn’t really understand them either. Sometimes he gets it in his head to try and convince Chan to settle down a bit, trying to convince him to double date with Soonyoung and Seokmin and one of their friends, but Chan’s always said no.
Well. Chan guesses he did end up with Soonyoung’s friend, in the end, but “with” isn’t really maybe the right word. He and Wonwoo aren’t anything like Soonyoung and Seokmin — they hook up, that’s it. It’s fun, and it gives Chan what he needs. He doesn’t want anything more.
Soonyoung nods slowly, like he’s really trying to process — he’s got the same expression he gets every time his phone updates and he has to relearn how to use it, like he’s giving this every ounce of brainpower he’s got. Chan would laugh at him for it, normally, but right now the moment feels too weird.
“Be careful,” Soonyoung says, finally. “Wonwoo’s softer than he looks.”
For a split-second Chan doesn’t know how to respond, the sentiment so far from what he was expecting that he’s taken aback. He blinks, then covers it with a shit-eating grin, winking at Soonyoung through the mirror.
“Not in my experience,” he says, and Soonyoung’s entire face contorts with the force of his grimace.
“Yah, Lee Chan,” he moans, his whole body convulsing through a shiver of exaggerated revulsion. “Don’t say things like that to your poor hyung!”
“You brought it up,” Chan points out, laughing, relieved to get the reaction from Soonyoung he was hoping for.
“You’re the one who took your shirt off!” Soonyoung complains, but he’s starting to laugh too. “Next time I see your mom I’m not gonna be able to look her in the eye!”
Chan reaches down for his hoodie just so he can whip it at Soonyoung, clipping his ear and earning him an offended squawk.
“Leave my mom out of this,” Chan laughs. “Are you done?”
He pulls out his phone and connects to it the speaker, scrolling through his library until he finds something loud enough to drown out Soonyoung’s protests completely. It works — Soonyoung’s always been easily distracted. He doesn’t bring up Wonwoo again.
In exchange Chan keeps his promise, and he’s careful about making it to practice on time after that.
He doesn’t stop seeing Wonwoo, though, sending him a message that weekend — purposefully goading, trying to get him worked up. Wonwoo responds, of course, just like he always does. He opens his door when Chan arrives at his place, pushes Chan down into his sheets until Chan’s laugh hitches, turns into a gasp instead.
He always does.
“I have to teach you how to do it right,” Chan remembers smirking at Wonwoo, bringing Wonwoo’s hand up to his own throat. Chan thought was cute, the way Wonwoo’s hands shook the first time. Chan had to push Wonwoo to do it the way he wanted — hard enough for black spots to start to cloud his vision. Just a moment like that, right on the edge before he pulled back.
The second time Wonwoo didn’t need any help.
He takes what he wants now. It’s like he was just waiting for Chan to give him permission — like their hands together on Chan’s throat opened a door. Chan doesn’t know why Soonyoung seemed so worried about it, when everything Chan suggests is something Wonwoo wants to try.
Tonight’s no different. Chan feels used up when they’re finished, filthy and sore in the best way. He’s vaguely aware of Wonwoo leaving him alone on the bed, then the sound of water running from the other room. Chan takes deep breaths and wiggles his fingers and toes, waiting for some of his strength to come back to him so he can stand. Waiting for the black spots to clear.
Wonwoo’s back before he can manage, but instead of awkwardly hovering like he usually does he comes right over to settle next to Chan on the bed. Chan lies still as Wonwoo silently wipes his face with a damp cloth, cleaning up the mess he made. It’s a little weird, but nice. Wonwoo’s never tried to do this before.
“Thanks,” Chan finally manages as Wonwoo starts to move down his body — his chest first, then his thighs. Chan’s leg tries to twitch at the cold, but he forces it still. “You really don’t have to, you know,” he adds, because it’s true. He’s an adult. He can clean himself up.
Wonwoo hesitates for a moment, eyes flicking up to meet Chan’s. As always, Chan can’t really tell what he’s thinking. He’s frowning, though, which seems like a shame after how much fun they just had.
“I want to,” Wonwoo says, finally, and Chan barely has time to process that before Wonwoo’s leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of his cheekbone. His cheeks are pink when he pulls back, like he’s embarrassed by himself. Like he didn’t meant to do it at all. It’s so far from what they usually do together that Chan doesn’t really know what to do besides smile at him, a little confused.
He should get up and leave, probably — he’s all cleaned up. He’s caught his breath, and his vision is clear. But instead of stepping aside to let Chan off the bed Wonwoo switches the lamp off, casting the room into darkness.
Chan’s still fucked out, or he must be. That’s the only explanation he has for how easily he curls into Wonwoo’s side, pressing his face into Wonwoo’s chest without really thinking about it. It feels nice — Wonwoo’s been getting broader lately, Chan’s pretty sure. Chan thinks about asking him about it but doesn’t. His eyes drift closed instead.
Chan’s let Wonwoo do some absolutely depraved shit to him, so he doesn’t understand why this feels like it’s crossing the line. Maybe it’s just that he’s never done this with anyone else he’s hooked up with.
He really needs to just leave.
“‘m gonna fall asleep here,” he warns, the words coming out slurred despite his best efforts. He doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to warn — Wonwoo or himself. He still hasn’t actually moved. His eyelids are so heavy, and Wonwoo is running one hand through his hair, now, petting him the same way he pets the street cats he meets outside sometimes. Kind of embarrassing, actually. Chan needs to make him stop.
Chan needs to —
Chan falls asleep.
Wonwoo wakes up while Chan’s getting dressed the next morning — his eyes blink open just in time to find Chan squinting at the shirt he wore over, trying to decide whether it’s salvageable or not.
“Wear one of mine,” he croaks from the bed, throwing one arm over his face as he flops over onto his back. Chan pauses.
“You sure?”
Wonwoo only shrugs, his face covered by his forearm.
“Just take one,” he says. His voice is all hoarse from sleep, even deeper than usual, which is — okay, yeah. It’s really hot. Whatever. “I’m the one who messed yours up, aren’t I?”
Chan only hesitates for a moment before the next words come out of his mouth.
“Thanks, daddy,” he says with a grin, laughing at the flush that blooms on Wonwoo’s cheeks, splotchy down his neck and chest. Wonwoo’s always so easy.
“You’re a menace,” Wonwoo says, but he doesn’t really sound mad about it. His voice cracks a little at the edge of the last word, and if that didn’t do it the the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth would give him away. “Get out.”
“Sure,” Chan says easily, pulling one of Wonwoo’s hoodies over his bare chest. The sleeves hang down too long until he bunches them up to free his hands, reaching for his phone where he’d dropped it on Wonwoo’s desk the night before. “I’ll call, yeah?”
Wonwoo doesn’t say anything in response, and when Chan looks backs over he’s just staring, eyes caught somewhere near Chan’s hand. Chan looks down at where he’s holding his phone, but he can’t see anything worth looking at like that.
“Hyung?” he tries. Wonwoo’s head twitches, like he’s only just realized what he was doing. He looks up at Chan and opens his mouth, only to close it again without making a sound. Chan raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Text me when you get home,” Wonwoo says, finally. Chan grins at the opening, all set to tease him again, but Wonwoo levels him with an unimpressed look before he can actually get the word out.
“Alright,” Chan laughs instead, letting Wonwoo off the hook.
Wonwoo keeps the straight face for a few more seconds before he cracks too, his mouth twisting into a tiny smile. He unwraps himself from the bedcovers to come see Chan out, just like he always does, pulling another sweatshirt over his head and immediately yawning into the sleeve of it, scrubbing at his face as he follows Chan to the door.
Chan smiles at him as he leaves, just like he always does.
It’s early enough that there’s a chill, and Chan wraps Wonwoo’s hoodie around him more tightly as he walks, glad for the warmth. home safe, he texts when he’s through his apartment door, setting his phone down to go drink some water and brush his teeth. There’s a message from Wonwoo waiting for him when he checks it again, and Chan finds himself smiling again as he stares down at the screen.
good.