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Side Story I
[Series: Lights, Camera… Hard-On!]
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“I’m pregnant.”
It was Baekhyun. At his front door. After six months.
Just few minutes back, the doorbell rang just as Chanyeol had collapsed face-first onto his couch, still in half his drama costume, his hair stiff and sticky from the disgusting cocktail of spray and mousse his stylists always drowned him in. His socks were mismatched, one already half-pulled off from him toeing at it lazily while muttering about the hellish twelve-hour filming he just survived. He had just found the perfect spot where the couch cushion dipped under his body weight when the shrill ding-dong cut through the silence.
Chanyeol groaned, muffled into the cushions, “Who the hell…?” Nobody came to his place. His manager had left hours ago, mumbling something about a much-needed date with his own bed, and the security downstairs usually filtered out random visitors.
The bell rang again, longer this time, like whoever was outside wasn’t going anywhere until he answered. Dragging his heavy legs across the wood floor, he shuffled barefoot to the door, grumbling under his breath about how if this was some food delivery for his neighbor, he was going to raise hell with management. He didn’t even look in the peephole as he was too tired. So, he just swung the door open.
And froze.
Chanyeol had to blink three, maybe four times just to make sure his brain was catching up with reality.
Baekhyun was here.
Standing at his door like it was the most normal thing in the world. Not on a phone screen, not on a late-night video call where Chanyeol could only see the upper half of his body and hear his laugh cut out whenever the Wi-Fi lagged. Not in some fuzzy dream that left him sweaty and frustrated when he woke up alone. This was flesh-and-blood Baekhyun, right in front of him, eyes sparkling like he owned the place, mouth running at full speed as usual.
For a split second, Chanyeol wondered if maybe he had fallen asleep on the couch after coming home from filming, if this was just another vivid hallucination his overworked brain had cooked up. The kind of dream where Baekhyun barged into his apartment, called him out for looking like a mess, and teased him until he was red to his ears. He pinched the inside of his palm, hard. The sting was sharp. Nope. Not a dream.
Baekhyun was real, and he was here.
Standing there, cap tugged low, mask dangling around his chin, was Byun Baekhyun. His Byun Baekhyun. The nation’s soul. His eyes, sharp and mischievous, gleamed like he’d just committed a crime and gotten away with it. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his cap like this was the most normal thing in the world.
He looked so unfairly good that Chanyeol’s head actually hurt trying to process it. His hoodie was casual, his jeans ripped, his sneakers scuffed like he’d been running, but somehow he still looked like he’d walked straight out of a stage performance. His cheeks were flushed from the night air, his grin just the tiniest bit smug, like he knew exactly how insane Chanyeol felt right now.
Meanwhile, Chanyeol was standing half-naked in the doorway, looking like a drama extra who’d been chewed up and spat out by a filming schedule. This was not how he’d pictured seeing Baekhyun again after six months. His brain was still buffering. His chest rose and fell too fast, his hand clutching his shirt tighter. All he could think was, he’s really here. He’s here, in front of me. Not a dream. Not my imagination. Baekhyun came to me.
It was overwhelming. A little terrifying. And yet, god, it felt so stupidly good. And then, just as Chanyeol’s brain tried to reboot, Baekhyun dropped the bomb.
The words detonated in Chanyeol’s ears. For a second, he honestly thought he’d misheard. He blinked once. Twice. His tall frame stiffened, and his mind immediately jumped back to thatnight, the one that had lived rent-free in his head through every schedule, every photoshoot, every exhausting script read. Back to Baekhyun sprawled beneath him, flushed and begging, whispering sinful things about breeding and babies.
“…What?” His voice cracked so sharply it embarrassed even him.
Baekhyun slid the mask down completely, lips curling into a wicked grin. “You heard me. Pregnant. With your baby. Congratulations, Daddy.”
Chanyeol’s jaw went slack. His brain was short-circuiting so violently he actually considered closing the door just to reset the simulation. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to say something logical, but all he managed was an incoherent noise.
Baekhyun, clearly delighted, leaned in closer. “Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you forgot.”
The memory hit harder, a flash of skin, heat, the desperate noises Baekhyun had made when Chanyeol had buried himself so deep that he swore he’d never leave. The sound of his own voice promising things he wasn’t supposed to say out loud.
Chanyeol’s ears burned red, the flush crawling down his neck. “Yah! You—you can’t just—don’t say that shit at my front door!” He glanced around nervously despite he was aware that his house was the only unit on that level.
“Oh please,” Baekhyun breezed past him, stepping into the apartment like he owned the lease.
The audacity. Chanyeol slammed the door shut quickly and leaned his forehead against it, silently begging the universe to absorb his embarrassment. His pulse was out of control, heart hammering like he’d just run a sprint. Six months, and Baekhyun hadn’t changed one bit. If anything, he’d gotten worse, even bolder, cockier, weaponizing every last drop of confidence to torture him.
When he finally turned, Baekhyun was already in the living room. His hat was tossed carelessly on the counter, shoes kicked off like this was his second home, not a stranger’s apartment. He plopped down on the couch, arms spread like a king taking his throne.
“What—how—why are you even here?” Chanyeol stammered, every word tripping over the next. His body hadn’t caught up with his brain. It was like his system couldn’t compute that Baekhyun was real, solid, just a few steps away instead of pixelated on a video call. “You’re supposed to be on tour. Don’t you have a concert in, like, Jakarta or somewhere?”
Baekhyun tilted his head back against the cushions, stretching out in a way that made his shirt ride up, flashing a strip of pale skin. He looked smug, lazy, and utterly unfair. “Finished the Asia leg. Europe starts next week. I had a few days free, so…” He smirked, waving the keycard to Chanyeol’s house between his two fingers on Chanyeol’s face, “I convinced your manager to come and see you. Threatened him, begged him, offered him concert tickets. He finally caved.”
Chanyeol’s mouth fell open. “He actually gave it to you?!”
Baekhyun shrugged, eyes glinting. “You should fire him. He clearly has no sense of privacy.”
“You—” Chanyeol pointed an accusatory finger, but dropped it uselessly. He was too overwhelmed to form an argument. “You’re insane.”
“And you missed me.”
The smugness in his tone was unbearable, but God, it was true.
Chanyeol crossed the room in two long strides and hovered over him, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You should’ve told me you’re coming, what if something happened to you on your way here?”
Baekhyun’s eyes lit up, his grin spreading wider. “Aww— you’re worried. But to disappoint you, I’m not that dumb to put myself in danger..”
Chanyeol’s ears flared so hot he swore he could fry eggs on them. “Of course, I’m worried.”
Six months hadn’t dulled anything. If anything, it had amplified it. Every night call, every flirtatious text, every voice note that lingered with promises they couldn’t act on, it all came rushing back, concentrated in this one moment. Seeing Baekhyun sprawled across his couch, smirk dripping with arrogance and affection, was like striking a match on a pile of gasoline.
Chanyeol swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away before he combusted. He muttered, trying to latch onto logic again, “So… you really convinced my manager to give you my house keycard?”
Baekhyun smirked, reclining back into the couch cushions like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. “Would you rather I stalked you? Climbed through your window?”
The horrifying image of Baekhyun dangling twelve floors above ground made Chanyeol blurt, “God no.”
Baekhyun chuckled, tugging at his shirt as if he hadn’t just nearly given Chanyeol a heart attack. “Relax, Yeol. I’m here because I wanted to see you. Simple as that.”
The casualness of the words cut deeper than Baekhyun could have realized. Chanyeol had spent half a year drowning in bright lights and cameras, carrying their little secret that was too brittle to be exposed to the cruel industry they were in. Yet in a single sentence, Baekhyun made it all melt into nothing. He wanted to see him. That was all. And for Chanyeol, that was everything.
“But again, you really could’ve just told me,” Chanyeol said, rubbing at the back of his neck, trying to disguise how fast his heart was pounding.
“And ruin the surprise?” Baekhyun scoffed. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, your face when I said I was pregnant? You want me to be your baby mama that bad huh, Daddy?”
Chanyeol groaned loudly, dropping his head back against the couch and covering his face with both hands. He wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Baekhyun said it so simply, with that same cocky assurance he always carried, like he wasn’t guessing, he knew. And Chanyeol had no defense, because it was true. Then, his smirk sharpened the instant he got a proper look at Chanyeol.
The man was a mess. Not the usual groomed-to-perfection, flawless idol mess that magazines liked to exaggerate. No, this was the kind of real, unfiltered mess that came from stumbling home after a fourteen-hour day. His hair was stiff with leftover hairspray, flattened awkwardly on one side, sticking up wildly on the other. His shirt, or rather, the loose blouse that had clearly been part of a drama costume was hanging open down to his sternum, exposing smooth chest and collarbones damp with sweat. The sleeves were half-rolled, his necklace slightly tangled. His sweats hung low on his hips, the waistband threatening to slide further if he moved too quickly.
Baekhyun blinked. Once. Twice. Then let out a low whistle.
“Well, well, look at you.” His eyes flicked deliberately from Chanyeol’s flushed face down his chest, lingering just long enough to make it obvious before crawling back up. “And here I was worried I might’ve come at the wrong time. Turns out…” He eyed the taller guy up and down, lips quirking. “Maybe I came at the perfect time.”
Chanyeol froze. He suddenly became hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin, the sticky sweat drying against his collarbone, the way the waistband of his jeans was barely holding up. He tugged his shirt closed with one massive hand, glaring weakly. “Yah, you’re a pervert!”
Baekhyun arched a brow. “I admit that I am. You open the door looking like that and expect me not to say anything? Tower boy, you’re lucky it was me and not some sasaeng fan. You’d be trending in twenty minutes.”
Chanyeol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “They can’t, the building is heavily guarded.”
“I’m dead serious,” Baekhyun said, eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned closer. “What if it had been some crazy sasaeng, hmm? You open the door all sweaty, chest out, looking like you just got railed—”
“BAEKHYUN!” Chanyeol choked so loudly his voice cracked. “I did not—what the hell—”
Baekhyun burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. His laugh was loud and unashamed, filling the quiet hallway. “Oh my god, your face—” He mimed wide eyes and flustered lips, mocking Chanyeol’s expression.
Chanyeol wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. “I can never win against you.”
“You kind of can—in bed,” Baekhyun teased, wiggling his brows. “Seriously though, what if it hadn’t been me?”
Chanyeol threw his arms up, exasperated. “It was late! I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
Baekhyun grinned like a cat who’d cornered its prey. “Guess I showed up just in time then.”
Chanyeol blinked, caught off guard by the double meaning dripping in Baekhyun’s tone. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no words came out. He looked like a six-foot toddler who’d just been scolded.
Baekhyun leaned in until their faces were close enough that Chanyeol could see the faint eyeliner still smudged under his lashes from rehearsal. “Relax, Yeol. I’m not complaining. Honestly…” His gaze flicked down Chanyeol’s chest again, slower this time, deliberate. “I like it. Suits you. The messy, just-finished-filming look. Very raw. Very… inviting.”
Chanyeol made a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a squeak. He stepped back instinctively, only for Baekhyun to push himself to get up from the couch and walked past Chanyeol, brushing past him like he belonged there. His shoulder grazed against Chanyeol’s bare chest as he passed. It was barely a touch, but it left Chanyeol’s skin tingling like he’d been burned. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the rush of heat that shot straight down his spine.
All he could do was watching the smaller guy silently, leaning on the edge of the armrest, his heart still hammering like a damn drum. He should’ve stopped him, should’ve told him to just sit back down and let him process this whole situation, but his mouth was useless. His body too. His eyes just followed the smaller man as he wandered into his apartment like he owned the place.
Baekhyun’s head tilted the way it always did when curiosity took over; sharp little eyes scanning left to right, lips pursed, brows arching whenever he spotted something worth a comment. And in a place like Chanyeol’s apartment, there was plenty to comment on.
The living room opened into wide glass windows that stretched nearly floor-to-ceiling, giving a sweeping view of the city lights below. The skyline twinkled like a painting, cars weaving through the veins of the streets, the tower in the distance glowing like a giant nightlight. The space screamed luxury, the kind of place only someone drowning in drama paychecks, endorsement money, and modeling gigs could manage.
Baekhyun whistled low. “Wow. So this is what selling your face to the industry buys you.” His hand skimmed over the back of a leather armchair, fingers tapping against it like he was testing its authenticity. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
He strolled further in, eyeing the plush gray sofa that could fit five people easily, the sleek coffee table with neat stacks of scripts and random gadgets, and the massive flat screen mounted on the wall. He paused by a shelf lined with vinyl records, one brow shooting up. “Seriously? You actually play these or just trying to look hipster?”
Chanyeol dragged a hand down his face. “I play them,” he muttered, embarrassed that his voice came out weaker than intended.
Baekhyun snorted, crouching a little to squint at the spines of the records. “Huh. Respect. Still doesn’t excuse the fact you live like… what’s the word… oh yeah, a lonely rich guy who might get featured on some late-night show about suspiciously clean apartments.”
Chanyeol’s lips twitched. “It’s not suspicious. I just—my manager’s obsessed with keeping it neat.”
“Mhm, sure.” Baekhyun wandered off toward the open kitchen, fingers brushing against the sleek countertop. The island in the middle gleamed under the recessed lighting, spotless except for a couple of empty mugs and an unopened energy drink can shoved to the side. He smirked. “Figures. Fancy kitchen, and you probably only use it to pour cereal and reheat ramen.”
Chanyeol opened his mouth to argue, but honestly… Baekhyun wasn’t wrong.
And the smaller man wasn’t finished. He padded past the kitchen toward the hallway, his feet squeaking on the polished wooden floor. His gaze flicked toward the closed bedroom door before he turned back with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “That where the magic happens? Or are you still a good boy, sleeping alone in your king-sized bed with nothing but your drama scripts for company?”
Chanyeol choked on air, ears burning. “Baek—”
“I mean,” Baekhyun cut in smoothly, stepping closer to one of the walls where framed posters of Chanyeol’s past works were neatly hung, “six months without me… you must’ve been going crazy.” He shot a sly glance over his shoulder. “Unless you found other ways to… cope.”
Chanyeol groaned.
Baekhyun just grinned and kept walking, his small frame moving lazily through the apartment, touching this, glancing at that, making comments like he was an inspector sent to assess whether Chanyeol deserved to live here. And the taller man just sat there, watching helplessly, half-annoyed and half-dazed because god, Baekhyun looked too good doing even the simplest things.
Finally, Baekhyun stopped by the window, pressing a hand against the glass as he stared down at the glittering city. His reflection ghosted on the surface, his lips curling as he murmured, “So this is your world now, huh? Big city lights, expensive furniture, living as a superstar.” He glanced back at Chanyeol, his voice dripping with teasing, but softer now. “Not bad for the tall, lanky kid I met on that ridiculous game show.”
Something inside Chanyeol snapped then, the dam he’d been holding back since opening the door, since seeing Baekhyun standing there with that cheeky grin. He couldn’t just sit there anymore, couldn’t just let him wander around untouched like some untouchable vision. Before he even realized it, he was on his feet.
Baekhyun barely had time to react when arms slid around his waist from behind, pulling him flush against a broad, solid chest. He gasped softly, body tensing before immediately melting back into the hold. Chanyeol buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling like a starving man finally given food. That familiar scent; clean soap, faint cologne, and something uniquely Baekhyun that no product could ever replicate filled his lungs until he felt dizzy.
“You—” his voice cracked, low and rough against Baekhyun’s ear, “—you’re really here.” He tightened his arms, pressing his forehead against the smaller man’s shoulder blade. “God, I missed you so much.”
Baekhyun stilled for a beat, then let out a small laugh, the sound shaky, a little breathless. “I can tell. You’re clinging like I’m about to disappear.”
Chanyeol didn’t even deny it. He squeezed tighter, nose brushing along the line of Baekhyun’s jaw. “Six months, Baek. Six. Do you know how long that feels when all I had was my phone screen?” His voice dropped, frustration bleeding into need. “I wanted this. You. Not video calls, not stupid texts at three in the morning. You.”
Baekhyun tilted his head back slightly, lips parting as his eyes fluttered shut. He bit his bottom lip, a smirk threatening to break through even as his ears flushed pink. “Sounds like someone’s gone soft.”
Chanyeol huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss just below his ear. “Shut up. You missed me too.”
Baekhyun chuckled, one hand coming up to rest lightly over Chanyeol’s forearm, fingers drumming lazily. “Maybe.” His voice dropped, teasing but laced with honesty. “More than I thought I would, actually.”
Chanyeol’s chest tightened at that, his heart doing a somersault. He closed his eyes, just holding him, breathing him in like he’d never get enough.
Baekhyun shifted slightly in Chanyeol’s hold, his body twisting so he could face him properly. The taller man loosened his grip just enough to let him move, though his arms still caged him in possessively, like letting go wasn’t an option. Their eyes met, the kind of locked gaze that made Chanyeol’s chest tighten and Baekhyun’s smirk soften.
Baekhyun lifted a hand, his slender fingertips brushing against Chanyeol’s brow first. His touch was featherlight, tracing the arch of his thick eyebrows with a thoughtful hum, like he was memorizing the details up close again after months of staring only through a phone screen.
“Your eyebrows are still too perfect,” Baekhyun murmured, his lips twitching. “Do they pay someone to keep them like this, or were you just born to make everyone else feel inadequate?”
Chanyeol huffed a laugh, embarrassed, but he didn’t move. He let Baekhyun’s fingers trail down the slope of his nose, brushing against the bridge, pausing briefly at the tip as if debating whether to flick it or not. Baekhyun didn’t. He slid further, fingertips skimming across the soft skin under Chanyeol’s eyes, then along the curve of his cheekbone.
The room was quiet except for their breathing and the buzzing city outside the glass. Baekhyun’s eyes sharpened when his fingers reached Chanyeol’s lips. He traced along the bow of the upper lip as his thumb grazing the corner as if testing how easily they could break into a smile.
His own mouth quirked up. “Six months, and I still can’t get over these.”
Chanyeol blinked, dazed. “…My lips?”
Baekhyun’s gaze lingered there, darker now, less teasing and more hungry. “Mm. Do you even know what kind of weapon you’re carrying around?” His thumb brushed the plush lower lip, pressing just enough to see it give under the weight. “Thick, soft, ridiculously distracting. Even when you’re on camera pretending to cry or laugh, my brain doesn’t care about the acting—I just stare here.” He pressed again, dragging slowly across the bottom lip. “Imagining…”
Chanyeol swallowed, throat bobbing, heat crawling up his neck. “Imagining… what?”
Baekhyun smirked, leaning closer until their breaths mingled. His eyes flicked between Chanyeol’s lips and his wide, nervous eyes. “Imagining them wet. Imagining how they looked when you moaned into my mouth. How they felt sliding down my neck. How red and swollen they’d get after you couldn’t stop kissing me.” He tilted his head, thumb teasing at the seam of Chanyeol’s lips, pressing until the taller man’s mouth parted slightly. His eyes glittered. “And of course… how they’d look on every inch of my body.”
Chanyeol let out a shaky exhale, his entire body stiff with tension, ears burning. His hands tightened on Baekhyun’s waist like he wasn’t sure if he’d break or explode if this continued.
Baekhyun chuckled low, clearly savoring the way Chanyeol froze under his touch. He dragged his thumb away slowly, almost torturously, leaving a faint sheen of moisture across Chanyeol’s lip. Then he flicked his gaze up, playful but heavy. “Yeah. Definitely missed these.”
Chanyeol finally found his voice, though it came out rough, almost strangled. “You talk like my lips are… some kind of menace to society.”
Baekhyun’s smirk widened, thumb still ghosting at the corner of his mouth. “They are. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. You walk around with these—” he gave the lower lip a teasing tug, making Chanyeol jolt, “—and everyone just wants a taste. Can’t even blame them.”
Chanyeol’s brow furrowed as he tried to scoff, but it lacked weight. “Right, so what—you’re saying you’ve been… what, jealous of my lips?”
Baekhyun arched a brow, tilting his head. “Not jealous. Possessive.” His voice dropped, husky. “Because I know what they feel like when they’re only on me. And I don’t really feel like sharing.”
Chanyeol’s ears burned red, his attempt at banter backfiring in real time. He tried again, fumbling. “You… you make it sound like you own them.”
Baekhyun’s smile turned sharp, devilish. “Don’t I?”
That shut Chanyeol up. His throat worked as he swallowed, eyes darting helplessly to Baekhyun’s lips now. He was trying so hard not to cave, not to let Baekhyun win this round of teasing. But Baekhyun leaned in closer, his breath brushing hot against Chanyeol’s mouth as he whispered, “Tell me no, then. Tell me these lips aren’t mine.”
Chanyeol’s resolve cracked in a heartbeat. His hands clenched tighter on Baekhyun’s waist, dragging him flush against his body. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, voice low, frustrated, already trembling with restraint.
Baekhyun’s grin was wicked. “And you’re still not telling me no.”
That was it. Chanyeol snapped. He crushed his mouth against Baekhyun’s, devouring the smirk right off his face. The kiss was hot, hard, messy, months of frustration and longing pouring out all at once. Baekhyun moaned into it, the sound vibrating against Chanyeol’s lips, and it made the taller man groan deep in his chest, angling his head to taste more. He clung to Chanyeol, fingers tangling into his hair, tugging hard enough to make Chanyeol gasp into his mouth. The shorter man took advantage of it, sliding his tongue in, licking into him shamelessly, like he had a point to prove that yes, these lips were his.
Chanyeol backed him up against the glass wall, mouths fused, hips pressing in unconsciously. Their kiss turned wet, desperate, teeth clashing and tongues tangling until Baekhyun was panting against his mouth, lips already swollen just like he had imagined minutes earlier.
When Chanyeol finally pulled back, just barely, a string of saliva stretched between their mouths. His voice was ragged, eyes dark and blown wide. “Still think you own them?”
Baekhyun’s breath hitched, lips red and glistening, eyes gleaming with triumph. “After that? Definitely.”
Chanyeol growled softly, diving back in, swallowing Baekhyun’s laugh into another heated kiss. He had Baekhyun pinned like he’d been waiting months for this exact moment. Because he had. His hands gripped the shorter man’s waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater while their mouths moved together in a hungry, messy kiss that tasted like relief and pent-up frustration. Baekhyun tugged at Chanyeol’s hair again, dragging a deep groan out of his chest, the sound vibrating between their pressed bodies.
The heat of it was insane as their tongues sliding, teeth nipping, the kind of kiss that felt less like affection and more like an argument over who needed who more. Baekhyun’s lips were swollen already, parted with every desperate gasp, and Chanyeol was drunk on the sound, the taste, the heat. His hips jerked forward without permission, pressing into Baekhyun’s thigh, and the man smirked against his mouth like he knew exactly what he was doing to him.
Baekhyun broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, his forehead bumping Chanyeol’s. “You missed me that much, huh?” he teased, voice wrecked, breath uneven.
Chanyeol’s answer was to drag him back in, devouring his smirk with another kiss. He couldn’t form words, not when his whole body felt wired, alive, burning from just having Baekhyun in his arms again. The months apart, the video calls or the texts, they didn’t compare to the taste of him right now, the way he fit against Chanyeol like he was meant to be there.
Baekhyun’s hands slid down his chest, fingers brushing open buttons carelessly as if he was impatient to get to skin. Chanyeol shuddered when those nimble fingers ghosted over his stomach, nails scratching lightly. He gasped against Baekhyun’s mouth, jerking forward again, and Baekhyun chuckled into the kiss. “Sensitive, tower boy,” he murmured, low and dirty.
Chanyeol gritted his teeth, pulling Baekhyun flush, one hand sliding down to cup his ass. “Keep talking,” he growled, “see what happens.”
Baekhyun opened his mouth to fire back, but right then—
Growl.
The sound was loud, intrusive, and definitely not sexual.
Both of them froze.
Another rumble followed, coming from Chanyeol’s stomach, long and drawn out like his body was mocking him at the worst possible time.
Baekhyun blinked once, then twice, before bursting into laughter right against his lips. He leaned his head back against the wall, shoulders shaking, hand pressed to his stomach as he laughed so hard his eyes crinkled. “Oh my god—Chanyeol—seriously?”
Chanyeol groaned, dropping his forehead onto Baekhyun’s shoulder, mortified. “Why now?” he muttered into the crook of his neck, voice muffled. “Out of all the times, why the fuck now?”
Baekhyun wheezed through another round of laughter, his fingers threading through Chanyeol’s hair to tug lightly. “You’re over here pinning me against walls, kissing me like I’m oxygen, grinding on me like you’re ready to fuck me into the floor—and your stomach’s the one that’s desperate.”
Chanyeol tried to glare up at him, but his ears were flaming. “Don’t make it sound like that,” he mumbled, though his lips twitched despite himself.
Baekhyun smirked, biting his already swollen lip as he looked him up and down. “Honestly… it’s kinda hot. Big bad actor, can’t even control his stomach.” He poked Chanyeol’s chest teasingly. “What’d you eat today? Or did you forget again?”
Chanyeol scowled half-heartedly. “I had… coffee,” he admitted reluctantly.
Baekhyun’s jaw dropped. “Coffee? That’s it? No wonder you’re growling at me like a wild dog.” He shoved at Chanyeol’s chest lightly, though he didn’t actually move him away. “God, you’re hopeless. No wonder your manager looks like he’s aged ten years.”
Chanyeol let out a low groan, tipping his head back against the wall, embarrassed and starving all at once. “I can’t believe this. You finally come here, we finally have a moment, and my stomach decides to cockblock me.”
Baekhyun snorted so loud, it bounced against the wall in the quiet apartment. “Cockblock? Please. If anything, it just reminded me I’m dealing with a giant puppy who doesn’t know how to feed himself.” His eyes softened, though, even as he teased. “You’re lucky I like puppies.”
Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, leaning down until his lips brushed Baekhyun’s ear. “Puppy, huh? Want me to show you what kind of bite I’ve got?”
Baekhyun shivered, his breath catching, but he pushed at Chanyeol’s shoulder again with a mock-stern expression. “Not on an empty stomach, Yeol. You’ll pass out before you even get my pants off.”
That earned a low laugh from Chanyeol despite his frustration. He kissed Baekhyun’s cheek quickly, then groaned again as his stomach rumbled like it was trying to prove Baekhyun’s point. “This is so fucking embarrassing.”
Baekhyun tilted his head, smug grin plastered on his face. “Embarrassing? Nah. Endearing. Sexy in a pathetic kind of way.”
Chanyeol’s jaw dropped. “Pathetic?”
“Mm-hmm,” Baekhyun hummed, stepping out from the wall finally, his body brushing against Chanyeol’s as he slid past him. He shot a look over his shoulder, lips curved in that dangerous smirk. “But don’t worry, I’ll feed you before you feed on me.”
Chanyeol swore under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. He wanted to be annoyed, but Baekhyun walking around his apartment, teasing him like this, he absolutely had no complaints. His stomach growled again, and he muttered, “Fine, but after that, I’m not letting you off the hook.”
Baekhyun laughed, tossing his head back as he opened the fridge like he owned the place. “We’ll see if you can keep up, puppy.”
Baekhyun padded into the kitchen like he’d done it a hundred times before, even though it was his first time stepping foot inside Chanyeol’s apartment. He tugged his sweater sleeves up to his elbows, already scanning the counters and cabinets with practiced ease. The kitchen was wide and sleek, all polished marble and gleaming appliances, clearly designed more for show than for someone who actually cooked.
He clicked his tongue and muttered under his breath, “Figures. Looks like a showroom kitchen… not a real one.” He opened a few cabinets, finding neatly stacked plates, glasses, and cutlery, all arranged so perfectly it screamed manager’s job. “Yup. Definitely not your handiwork,” he added loudly, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Chanyeol, who was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
Chanyeol raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Baekhyun smirked, turning back to rummage. “Means you’ve probably never cooked a single meal in here. I bet the stove doesn’t even know your name.”
Chanyeol scoffed, pushing off the doorframe. “I’ve cooked before.”
Baekhyun popped his head out from behind the fridge door, eyebrow raised. “Instant ramen doesn’t count.”
Caught red-handed, Chanyeol shut his mouth. He watched as Baekhyun bent to inspect the lower shelves of the fridge, his ass sticking out just enough to make it impossible not to stare. Chanyeol bit his lip, dragging his eyes away before he got caught. The fridge looked surprisingly stocked, clearly the manager had been making sure Chanyeol didn’t live entirely on caffeine and takeout.
Baekhyun pulled out a carton of eggs, some green onions, a pack of kimchi, and leftover rice in a container. He set them on the counter with a triumphant little grin. “Perfect. Kimchi fried rice it is. Quick, filling, and even you can’t screw it up.”
Chanyeol frowned, though his lips twitched. “You came all this way to see me and now you’re cooking for me? That feels backwards. Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”
Baekhyun rolled his eyes, grabbing a frying pan from the rack above the stove. “Please. You’d end up ordering delivery and making me eat cold pizza.” He reached for the sesame oil and soy sauce. “Besides, I like cooking. And you look like you’ll keel over if you don’t eat soon.”
Chanyeol stepped closer, guilt tugging at him. “Still… you shouldn’t have to.”
Baekhyun flicked on the stove, the flame roaring to life, then shot him a look over his shoulder. “Chanyeol. Sit. Down.”
The authority in his voice caught him off guard. Chanyeol blinked, mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but Baekhyun raised a brow in that way that said he dared him to try. With a defeated groan, Chanyeol raised his hands in surrender and dropped into one of the stools at the island counter.
“Good boy,” Baekhyun teased, turning back to the stove. He cracked two eggs into a bowl, whisked them quickly, then tossed them into the hot pan. The smell hit the air instantly; warm, savory, comforting.
Chanyeol propped his chin on his palm, watching as Baekhyun moved confidently around the kitchen, pulling out utensils and chopping green onions like it was his own space. His top hung loose around his shoulders, sleeves half-pushed up, and Chanyeol found himself mesmerized by the sight. He looked so at ease, humming under his breath while he stirred the rice into the eggs, the soft sound mingling with the sizzle of the pan.
“You look too good doing that,” Chanyeol muttered before he could stop himself.
Baekhyun didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Cooking?”
“Everything,” Chanyeol replied, voice low.
Baekhyun paused just long enough to glance at him, eyes glinting. “Flattery won’t get you a bigger portion.”
Chanyeol chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you’d be this bossy in my kitchen.”
“This?” Baekhyun lifted the pan to give the rice a good toss, kimchi and green onions mixing in with a sharp burst of aroma. “This is me being nice. You haven’t seen bossy yet.”
Chanyeol swallowed hard, and not just from hunger. The way Baekhyun’s hips moved slightly with the motion, the casual confidence in every word, it was unfair.
“Smells amazing,” Chanyeol admitted honestly as the scent filled the apartment, far better than anything he’d managed to put together himself.
“Good,” Baekhyun said simply, plating the fried rice and setting it in front of him with a pair of chopsticks. “Eat before your stomach starts yelling at me again.”
Chanyeol looked at the plate, then back up at Baekhyun. “You really didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to,” Baekhyun cut him off, softer this time. His eyes lingered on Chanyeol’s face for a moment before he turned away to clean the pan. “So eat.”
Chanyeol picked up the chopsticks and took a bite. The flavor exploded in his mouth; spicy, savory, perfectly balanced. He groaned out loud before he could stop himself. “Holy shit, this is good.”
Baekhyun smirked, rinsing the pan in the sink. “Of course it is. I made it.”
Chanyeol shoveled another bite, watching him over the counter. “How are you real?” he muttered under his breath.
Baekhyun glanced over his shoulder, lips quirking. “I told you already. Not a dream. Now finish that before I change my mind and eat it myself.”
Chanyeol shoveled another spoonful of rice into his mouth, almost groaning again at how good it was. Taking a seat next to Chanyeol, Baekhyun watched him with a smug little smile like he’d just single-handedly saved his life. Maybe he had.
“You’re staring,” Chanyeol said around a mouthful, though he didn’t dare meet Baekhyun’s eyes too long.
Baekhyun smirked. “I’m admiring. Big difference.”
Chanyeol narrowed his eyes but the corner of his mouth tugged up. “Admiring what? My eating skills?”
“No,” Baekhyun said simply, leaning back on the stool. “More like… how you look like you haven’t eaten in days. Did your manager starve you during filming or something?”
Chanyeol swallowed, chuckling. “Pretty much. Tight schedules, long shoots… we basically live off coffee and whatever’s lying around.”
“That explains why you almost devoured me at the door.” Baekhyun tilted his head, mischievous glint in his eyes.
Chanyeol nearly choked, making the smaller guy laughed. The sound bubbling up freely, and it did something to Chanyeol’s chest, something hot and dangerous. He tried to hide behind another bite of rice, but Baekhyun was still grinning, clearly entertained.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Chanyeol muttered.
“Of course I am,” Baekhyun shot back. “When else am I going to see Park Chanyeol—Mr. Tall, Cool, Drama Star—stuffing his face like a kid with his first meal of the week?”
Chanyeol rolled his eyes, but it was useless. He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. He shoved the last bite into his mouth just to have something to do, then set his chopsticks down with a sigh of satisfaction. “Okay, fine. You win. That was the best fried rice I’ve ever had.”
Baekhyun’s smile softened for a split second, pride flickering in his expression before he quickly covered it with a cocky shrug. “Obviously.”
Chanyeol stood, reaching for the plate. Baekhyun made a move to stop him, but Chanyeol shook his head. “Nope. You cooked, I clean. That’s the rule.”
Baekhyun raised a brow. “Since when?”
“Since right now,” Chanyeol shot back, carrying the dish to the sink. He rolled his sleeves up and turned on the faucet, rinsing the plate and scrubbing it down. It was mindless work, but he liked the clink of porcelain and the rush of water. It gave him a moment to breathe, because the truth was his heart had been racing since Baekhyun appeared at his door.
When he glanced over his shoulder, Baekhyun was perched at the counter, chin in his palm again, watching him like he was some kind of rare documentary subject. Their eyes met briefly, and Baekhyun’s lips curved into a smile that made Chanyeol fumble the plate for half a second. He quickly turned back to the sink, muttering under his breath.
“You always this nosy?”
“Only when the view’s good,” Baekhyun replied smoothly.
Chanyeol felt his ears heat, and he was grateful for the sound of running water masking the way his breath caught. He finished rinsing, set the dish on the rack, and wiped his hands on a towel. When he turned, Baekhyun was still there, expression light but eyes sharp, like he was deliberately waiting to drop something.
Sure enough, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “So… when are you going to take me on the grand tour?”
Chanyeol blinked. “Tour?”
“Yeah,” Baekhyun said innocently. “Of your place. Don’t tell me you’re going to keep me stuck in the kitchen all night. I mean, I’ve seen the living room, now the kitchen…” He let the pause hang just long enough before smirking. “What about your bedroom?”
Chanyeol froze. Absolutely froze.
His brain stuttered like a broken engine. Bedroom? No. Not that. Anywhere but that.
Because the truth was, his bedroom wasn’t just a bedroom. It was a shrine. Every wall told on him. Posters, framed photos, shelves stacked with albums, limited-edition merch, fan club goods—all Baekhyun. Stuff he’d collected for years, long before they ever stood in the same room together, let alone kissed, let alone everything else.
Chanyeol’s stomach dropped. He could already imagine it: Baekhyun walking in, seeing his own face plastered all over the walls, and what? Laughing? Teasing him? Thinking he was pathetic? Creeped out?
His throat went dry. He forced a laugh, but it came out thin. “The bedroom’s… uh, not really guest-ready.”
Baekhyun’s eyes lit up, like a cat catching the scent of something fun. “Oh?” He tilted his head. “What’s in there? Dirty laundry? A secret stash of snacks? Or…” His smile turned sharp, playful. “Is Park Chanyeol hiding something?”
Chanyeol gripped the edge of the counter behind him, trying to look casual when he was anything but. Yeah, hiding something all right. Hiding the fact that you’ve been plastered on my walls since debut.
He cleared his throat, desperate to steer away. “It’s just… messy.”
Baekhyun narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. He slid off the stool and walked closer, steps unhurried, like a predator circling. “Messy, huh?” He stopped just in front of him, peering up with that maddening smirk. “Is your bedroom the fifty shades of grey kind? Oh my god— you’re into bdsm? A masochist?”
Chanyeol nearly choked on air. His whole body jolted upright, as if Baekhyun had just accused him of running an underground dungeon in his luxury apartment.
“W-what?!” he blurted, ears instantly burning red. “No! Absolutely not!”
Baekhyun’s grin widened like he’d just hit jackpot. His eyes sparkled with wicked amusement, the corners crinkling as he tilted his head, studying Chanyeol’s fluster like it was the highlight of his day.
“So…” Baekhyun dragged out the word, pacing a half-step around him, eyes never leaving his face. “No chains on the ceiling? No handcuffs under the pillow?”
Chanyeol scrubbed a hand down his face. “God, Baekhyun—”
Baekhyun didn’t let up. He leaned in, voice lowering to a mock whisper. “What about a leather whip in the closet? Maybe a latex suit tucked in with your jackets? Hm?”
“Stop it!” Chanyeol barked, though the tips of his ears had gone full crimson by now. His voice cracked on the last word, which only made it worse.
Baekhyun cackled, bending over slightly with the force of his laughter. He slapped a hand lightly against Chanyeol’s chest for balance, his laughter spilling out freely, loud and unrestrained, bouncing off the walls.
Chanyeol, meanwhile, was fighting for his dignity. Why does he always know how to push my buttons like this? His heart raced like he’d been caught red-handed even though there was nothing remotely ‘Fifty Shades’ about his bedroom. No chains, no cuffs, no leather. Just Baekhyun. Which is actually worse, his brain supplied miserably.
When Baekhyun finally straightened, he was still grinning, eyes glinting like he wasn’t done yet. “Okay, okay,” he said, mock seriousness in his tone. “If it’s not a BDSM dungeon… then what isit that you’re hiding, hmm?”
Chanyeol’s mouth went dry. His brain screamed don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.
“…Nothing,” he muttered weakly.
“Liar,” Baekhyun shot back instantly, grinning like a cat. He stepped closer, so close Chanyeol could smell the faint cologne clinging to him, something a little spicy, so distinctly Baekhyun it made his chest ache. “You know… the more you avoid, the more curious I get.”
Chanyeol swallowed hard. He could feel the wall he’d backed himself into. Baekhyun was too smart, too sharp not to pick up on it.
“I-it’s not what you think,” Chanyeol stammered, then immediately cursed himself for sounding guilty.
Baekhyun’s smirk deepened. “Oh? Then tell me what it is.”
Chanyeol hesitated, panic clawing at his chest. He couldn’t just admit that his bedroom was practically a fan museum. That he had Baekhyun’s posters in different eras lined up neatly, albums displayed, even one of those signed limited goods he’d pulled strings to get. If he sees that, he’s going to run for the hills. He’ll think I’m insane. But Baekhyun didn’t budge, eyes locked onto him, waiting.
“You’re—” Chanyeol cleared his throat, avoiding his gaze. “You’re not gonna like it.”
Baekhyun tilted his head, lips quirking upward. “Try me.”
Silence stretched. Chanyeol swore he could hear his own pulse hammering in his ears.
Then, because Baekhyun was relentless, he leaned up on tiptoe, lips brushing close to Chanyeol’s ear as he whispered with a teasing lilt, “Or maybe you really are hiding a secret kink. Should I find out myself?”
Chanyeol almost dropped dead on the spot. Heat shot straight down his spine, pooling in his stomach. He grabbed Baekhyun by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length before he did something stupid, like melt into the teasing completely.
“I’m really not,” he muttered, voice rougher than he intended.
Baekhyun’s grin widened, clearly satisfied he’d gotten the reaction he wanted. He didn’t pull away, though if anything, he leaned into Chanyeol’s hold, eyes glinting, daring him to snap. “You’re blushing,” Baekhyun pointed out, voice singsong. “Look at you, Park Chanyeol, giant baby embarrassed over a little teasing. What am I going to do with you?”
Chanyeol groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re going to drive me insane, that’s what.”
Baekhyun only smirked. “Good. That’s the plan.”
Chanyeol’s mind was a disaster zone. He couldn’t think straight. The image of Baekhyun stepping into his bedroom and seeing everything, seeing himself all over those walls was enough to make Chanyeol want to throw himself out the window. At the same time… Baekhyun being here, right now, teasing him like this, pressing close enough to blur all lines, it was intoxicating. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to slam the bedroom door shut forever or drag Baekhyun in there and let the truth spill in the messiest way possible.
Baekhyun must’ve sensed his inner conflict, because he suddenly softened his smirk into something lighter, more playful. He poked a finger at Chanyeol’s chest. “Relax, Yeol. I’m not really going to check your closet for whips. Not yet, anyway.”
Chanyeol stood there like he was about to walk into a death sentence. His entire body was tense, shoulders stiff, fingers twitching at his sides as Baekhyun stared him down. The shorter man’s eyes were shining with curiosity, sharp and playful, but there was something else hiding behind them too, a softer glimmer like he already knew Chanyeol was hiding something ridiculous and was dying to see it.
And then came the pout.
Baekhyun tilted his head, lower lip sticking out just a little, his brows knitting together in an exaggerated plea. “Come on, Chanyeol,” he coaxed, voice dipping into that infuriatingly sweet tone that always got him what he wanted. “What could possibly be so bad? You’re acting like you’ve got skeletons stuffed under your bed.”
Chanyeol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. God help me. His chest thudded painfully because no matter how many times he told himself don’t do it, don’t show him, the moment Baekhyun pouted like that, he crumbled like wet paper.
“I’m serious, Baekhyun,” he muttered, voice low, almost pleading. “Please… please don’t hate me after this.”
That, of course, only made Baekhyun more interested. His smirk returned full force, like a cat who had just cornered a mouse. “Now you’re making me nervous. What, you got a body hidden in there?”
Chanyeol gave him a flat look, but his ears burned. “Worse.”
Baekhyun blinked once, then let out a bark of laughter. “Worse than a body? Now I have to see this.”
And that was it. The nail in his coffin. Chanyeol exhaled loudly, like a man about to meet his executioner, and finally muttered, “Fine. But remember—you asked for this.”
Baekhyun’s grin widened. “Oh, I can’t wait.”
Chanyeol’s hand automatically reached for Baekhyun’s, walking in hands towards his bedroom. He could feel how giddy Baekhyun was by the way his hands squeezed his larger one’s.
Once they reached his bedroom, his other hand hesitated on the knob for seconds. He twisted it and bedroom door creaked open slowly, like it was revealing some ancient cursed tomb. He wanted to slam it shut and set the apartment on fire just to avoid this moment, but Baekhyun brushed past him with a spark in his eyes, stepping inside eagerly.
The moment he did, he froze.
Baekhyun’s lips parted, his eyes going wide as they darted around the room. His posters. His albums. His concert DVDs. His limited-edition merch. His framed photos from past tours. One corner of the wall practically dedicated to an autographed banner Baekhyun had signed years ago. There was even a carefully protected lightstick sitting proudly on the shelf above the desk, glowing faintly from the battery left inside.
The whole room screamed one thing: fanboy shrine.
Baekhyun turned slowly, his expression caught between shock, amusement, and something unreadable. “…Oh my god.” His voice cracked on the words before laughter bubbled out of him. “Oh my god.”
Chanyeol wanted the earth to swallow him whole. He buried his face in his hands, groaning like his soul was trying to escape his body. “I told you not to come in here.”
Baekhyun walked further inside, his laughter ringing louder as he took it all in. “This—” He pointed at a particularly large poster above the bed, one from his last solo tour, where he was wearing a glittery jacket and smirking at the camera. “This is huge!” He nearly doubled over, giggling uncontrollably. “Chanyeol, are you serious?!”
Chanyeol peeked at him between his fingers, his face blazing red. “I said don’t hate me!”
“Hate you?!” Baekhyun wheezed, still laughing. He turned in a slow circle, taking in every inch of the room. “You’ve basically been sleeping under my face every night. I don’t even know what to say.”
Chanyeol groaned again, dropping onto the edge of the bed like a man who’d just lost the will to live. “I was going to take them down before you came, I just… I didn’t think you’d actually come here, okay?”
Baekhyun finally stopped circling and leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms. His grin was maddening. “Wow. Park Chanyeol. Giant, sexy, intimidating Park Chanyeol… my biggest fanboy. Who would’ve thought?”
Chanyeol muttered something incoherent under his breath, running both hands through his hair in frustration. His ears were still burning. His heart was pounding like it wanted to break free. He was terrified to look up at Baekhyun, but when he finally did, the older man was staring at him with that smirk, playful, but his eyes soft, almost… fond.
“So this is why you looked like you were about to die when I asked,” Baekhyun said, chuckling. He wandered closer, stopping right in front of him. “You thought I’d hate you for… what? Being devoted?”
Chanyeol looked away, jaw tight. “…Obsessed, more like.”
Baekhyun tilted his head, leaning down until their faces were just inches apart. “You know, there’s a difference between obsessed and… infatuated.”
Chanyeol swallowed hard. He could feel Baekhyun’s breath ghosting across his lips, his gaze heavy, pulling him in like gravity.
And then Baekhyun grinned again, leaning back slightly. “Besides… it’s kind of hot.”
Chanyeol’s brain short-circuited. “H-hot?”
Baekhyun shrugged casually, but his smirk was wicked. “Yeah. I mean, imagine walking into a room and seeing myself plastered on every wall? That’s a power trip. You’re stroking my ego without even trying.”
Chanyeol groaned, falling back onto the mattress and covering his face again. “You’re unbelievable.”
Baekhyun chuckled, climbing onto the bed with zero hesitation. He straddled Chanyeol’s hips, leaning down to pry his hands away from his face. His smirk softened into something teasing but affectionate. “Relax, Yeol. I’m not running away.”
Chanyeol’s breath caught as Baekhyun’s fingers traced down his jaw, light and slow. The weight of him on his hips was maddening, the scent of his cologne even stronger this close. Instead of recoiling from the shrine of his own face, Baekhyun was teasing him, smiling at him, leaning closer.
Baekhyun’s eyes glimmered with mischief as he whispered, “So tell me, Chanyeol… when you lay in bed at night surrounded by my posters… do you ever look up at me and—” His voice dipped lower, sultry. “—jerk off thinking about me?”
Chanyeol made a strangled noise, half a groan and half a curse, his hands instinctively tightening on Baekhyun’s thighs. “Baekhyun!”
Baekhyun burst into laughter again, throwing his head back, his whole body shaking with amusement. “Oh my god, your face! You totally do, don’t you?”
Chanyeol sat up quickly, one arm wrapping around Baekhyun’s waist, pulling him flush against him, shutting him up with a glare that was more desperate than angry. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice hoarse.
Baekhyun leaned in close, lips brushing Chanyeol’s ear as he whispered with a grin, “Then die happy, fanboy.”
Chanyeol’s pulse went wild. His embarrassment was still clawing at him, but with Baekhyun pressed against him like this, smirking, teasing, breathing the same air, he couldn’t think straight anymore. The shame of being exposed was drowned out by the fire building low in his stomach, the hunger that had been gnawing at him for months.
Baekhyun pulled back slightly, his fingers tracing along Chanyeol’s jaw, down his neck. His eyes were locked on his lips, and Chanyeol couldn’t take it anymore. He surged forward, capturing Baekhyun’s mouth with his, desperate and rough, finally silencing that damn teasing smirk.
And Baekhyun? He only smiled against the kiss, like he’d won.
Chanyeol’s lips moved against Baekhyun’s with a desperate urgency, months of restraint unraveling in a single moment. Baekhyun kissed back just as hungrily, his laughter muffled between their mouths, his fingers threading into Chanyeol’s hair like he had no intention of letting go. The shrine of Baekhyun’s face surrounding them should’ve been embarrassing, humiliating even, but somehow, with Baekhyun straddling him, it only added fuel to the fire.
Baekhyun broke the kiss first, breathless and flushed, his lips swollen from the pressure. He pulled back just enough to scan the walls again, his smirk curling slowly as his chest heaved. “You know,” he said, voice hoarse but teasing, “it’s kinda weird… doing this with my face staring back at me from every direction.”
Chanyeol’s hands gripped his waist tighter, eyes dark and burning. His embarrassment flickered, but only for a second, before something rawer, dirtier, slipped out of him. His voice dropped low, rasping against Baekhyun’s ear as he growled, “Who said you’ll be looking somewhere else?”
Baekhyun’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering into parted lips.
Chanyeol tilted his head back just enough to lock eyes with him, his gaze heavy, intense, unwavering. “You’ll be looking at me,” he said firmly, almost a command, his voice rumbling like thunder under his skin. “At me doing you so good you won’t even remember those posters are there.”
Baekhyun swallowed hard, his pupils dilating as he shifted against Chanyeol’s lap, heat sparking between them. A shaky laugh slipped out of him, like he was trying to keep the upper hand but failing. “Cocky much?”
“Confident,” Chanyeol corrected, pulling him closer until their chests pressed flush, the warmth between them making Baekhyun’s skin tingle. He nipped lightly at Baekhyun’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, drawing a small, unguarded gasp from the older man.
Baekhyun’s fingers curled in Chanyeol’s hair, tugging just enough to sting, his body arching instinctively. “God, you—” He cut himself off with a breathy moan when Chanyeol’s hands slid down from his waist to cup his ass, squeezing hard enough to make his hips roll against him.
The friction was unbearable, their jeans suddenly far too tight, and Chanyeol groaned deep in his chest as Baekhyun rocked into him. His own body betrayed just how much he needed this, how much he’d been starving for it.
Baekhyun pulled back just a little, lips swollen, eyes hazy but glinting with mischief. “So… I should just… stare at your pretty face while you—” his voice dipped low, sultry, “—ruin me?”
Chanyeol smirked, though his voice cracked with raw want when he whispered, “Exactly.”
Then he flipped them, pressing Baekhyun back into the mattress, caging him in with broad shoulders and trembling restraint. Baekhyun laughed breathlessly under him, but it was cut off by another kiss; hotter, hungrier, sloppier.
And this time, Baekhyun wasn’t laughing anymore. He was moaning into Chanyeol’s mouth, his legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between them.
The night stretched long into morning, there was a sense that this wasn’t just lust burning out fast. By the time they finally collapsed in tangled sheets, sticky with sweat and laughter, Chanyeol knew one thing for sure: no matter how busy, no matter how far, Baekhyun always had a way of finding him.
And Baekhyun? He fell asleep in Chanyeol’s arms with the satisfied grin of someone who had gotten exactly what he came for.
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Notes:
My plan was just to write about 4k words, but I couldn’t stop, it ended up being stretched to 10k words ㅠㅠ I still wanna write more, but let’s save it for the next side story! Also, sorry if you get sexual frustration ehehe I promise, there will be a spicy side story sooooon!