Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Boredom is a dangerous thing. Especially when Jaemin is the one experiencing it.

It started like most dangerous things do. Quietly, almost innocently, on a lazy Sunday afternoon with no assignments due, no people to meet and no places to visit. Jeno was laying upside down on his couch, legs flopped over the backrest and head dangling off the edge. His phone was held above his face at an angle that would’ve given most people a neck cramp.

Across from him, Jaemin was sprawled sideways on the rug with a cushion under his stomach and a giant bag of rainbow gummy bears nestled between his arms. He wasn’t even eating them anymore. Just staring at them awkwardly before throwing them in the bag again. 

“I’m so bored I just imagined enrolling in a second major,” Jaemin mumbled into the floor.

“I’m so bored I was considering calling Renjun just to ruin his afternoon nap,” Jeno replied. 

Jaemin let out a groan and dragged the back of his hand over his face, “We need a hobby.”

Jeno turned his head slightly, enough to look Jaemin in the eye, “Want to play a nonsensical game?”

Jaemin blinked, “I’m listening.”

“Let’s rank our friends by top or bottom energy.”

And just like that, Jaemin sat up. They started with the obvious ones. 

“Mark?” Jaemin said, grabbing a gummy bear and biting into it.

“Top,” Jeno replied without hesitation. “He’s the type to pretend to be all cute in public, and then rail you against the wall.”

“Exactly,” Jaemin nodded. “Always making Donghyuck short-circuit.”

“With all due fairness, he is always instigating Mark and then probably ends up crying halfway through.”

Jaemin cackled, “He’d make Mark jealous on purpose, and then be like, ‘Wait… you're actually mad? ’ as Mark slams the door behind them.”

They took a second to let the mental image settle, then both made the Catholic cross motion without speaking.

“Renjun?” Jaemin asked.

“Bottom. But, like, the terrifying kind.”

“Would insult you in three languages if you didn’t do it right.”

“Yangyang?”

“Top. He doesn’t care if he is even doing it right, he would just have too much enthusiasm.” Jaemin remarked. 

“He’d send a post-hookup survey and convince you to give five stars.”

“Sungchan?”

Jeno paused, “Soft top.”

Jaemin clapped, “Yes! With, like, playlists and aftercare and too many candles.”

They were in sync, disturbingly so. The chart came out next. Literally a sheet of paper that Jaemin dug out of Jeno’s junk drawer and started scribbling on in four different highlighters like a color-coded mental breakdown.

Ten got his own chaotic category called “Yes.” Johnny got written in capital letters with a crown.

They only paused once, for water, and when Jaemin declared Jaehyun would top Taeyong with such slow intensity Taeyong would cry from eye contact alone.

“Taeyong would try to be a top,” Jaemin said with a gummy bear in his teeth, “but Jaehyun would just stare at him and he’d drop to his knees out of spiritual confusion.”

“Is it weird I agree with that on, like, a soul level?” Jeno muttered.

And then, chaos struck.

“Okay,” Jaemin said, tapping the paper, “Chenle.”

Jeno didn’t even blink, “Top.”

Jaemin turned his head so slowly he looked like a haunted doll, “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Chenle is clearly a top.”

“Are you on drugs?”

“He’s loud, aggressive, bossy-”

“He got locked in the bathroom once and called you crying!”

“That was one time! And the lock was jammed!”

“He tried to sue a vending machine because it ate his 10 bucks.”

“He’s passionate!”

Jaemin looked like he was about to cry, “He made Hyuck apologize to him for looking tired in a selfie.”

Jeno leaned forward, “Exactly. He has standards . You think someone like that isn’t a top?”

Jaemin stood up, arms wide, “Jeno, baby… Be for real . He’s a brat with delusions of power. He would fold if someone looked at him the right way.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes, “You really think Chenle’s a bottom?”

Jaemin nodded with the solemnity of someone delivering a TED Talk, “And you know who would top him? Jisung . ”

Silence. Absolute, pin-drop, god-is-watching silence.

Jeno blinked like he’d heard an insult, “Jisung?!”

“Yes.”

“Our Jisung? The tall one who still says ‘oopsie’ sometimes?”

Jaemin pointed, “Exactly. Silent killer.. Walks around all shy and polite and then absolutely ruins you.”

Jeno looked horrified., “He says thank you to the pigeons.”

“And then pins you to a wall and calls you baby.”

“He drinks hot chocolate out of mugs with cartoon cats.”

“And he’d rail Chenle with one hand on his neck and no foreplay.”

“I need you to stop talking.”

Jaemin smirked, “Scared I’m right?”

“Chenle would eat him alive.”

“Chenle would talk a big game and then melt the second Jisung tells him to shut up.”

“He’s Chenle. Bossy, overconfident and loud Chenle . ”

“He’d cry if Jisung made eye contact too long.”

There was a pause, a long one. Jeno looked away. 

“Okay,” he said, “Let’s bet.”

Jaemin blinked, “What?”

“One hundred bucks. On who tops, if they get together.”

Jaemin tilted his head, “You want to gamble on our friends’ future sex lives.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m in.”

They shook hands immediately. No hesitation, just pure chaos-fueled confidence and very poor decision-making skills.

“The only problem is,” Jaemin said slowly, “they’re not dating.”

Jeno grinned, “Yet.”

Jaemin gasped, “We’re gonna force them to fall in love.”

“For science . ”

“For the chart.”

“For one hundred dollars.”

Somewhere across the city, Chenle and Jisung sneezed.

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Chenle didn’t believe in intuition, but something was definitely off.

It’s not the mess, he expected that. Their dorm always looked like it was halfway through a teenage apocalypse. It’s not the playlist either, though he could probably sue Jisung for crimes against music taste. It’s not even the fact that Mark was vacuuming the exact same patch of carpet for the fourth time, clearly trying to look useful while doing nothing. 

No, it was the stillness. The way Jaemin and Jeno kept disappearing into corners and emerging with identical smiles. The way they kept glancing over every time Chenle shifted even half a centimeter closer to Jisung on the couch. 

The way every time he looked around, someone quietly removed themselves from the room. First Donghyuck (he claimed “emotional fatigue”), then Mark (he muttered something about reorganizing his Spotify folders and vanished), then even Jaemin and Jeno, who reappeared only to nudge Chenle into a “more comfortable spot” and gently suggest he “chilled next to Jisung for a bit.” 

Which is how he ended up here, sitting slightly too close to Jisung on a couch that was now suspiciously empty except for the two of them.

At first, Chenle didn’t think much of it. He was still chewing on a cold breadstick, stretching his legs across the carpet, half-listening to Jisung talk about something that happened in their 10 a.m. class, something about a professor’s projector catching fire, which Chenle was pretty sure he made up.

 Jisung had a weird way of telling stories, like he was not even trying to be funny but somehow always is. He was wearing his usual oversized hoodie, his voice low and quiet, the kind of tone that makes you lean in a little to catch every word, even when the story is about nothing.

It’s only when Chenle realizes Jisung hadn’t looked away from him in two straight minutes that he started to feel it, that prickle at the base of his neck, like they’re not entirely alone. 

He glanced to the side and, sure enough, caught Jaemin standing halfway behind the fridge with a suspiciously casual stance, sipping a juice box and staring like he’s watching something unfold. Jeno was next to him, pretending to reorganize the spice rack, which would have been more convincing if they didn’t own exactly three spices.

“We’re being watched,” Chenle muttered.

Jisung didn’t even blink, “Probably.”

“I think they’re trying to play cupid for us.”

“They’ve done worse.”

“I swear to God, if this is some gay version of The Parent Trap-”

“They’d call it The Partner Trap,” Jisung said, deadpanning.

Chenle stared at him, “You’ve thought about this.”

“I know Jaemin.”

They lapsed into silence again, except it was not real silence, it was that weird charged kind, where the air felt thick and the distance between their knees felt noticeable. Chenle pretended to check his phone but didn’t actually read anything. Jisung shifted slightly, just enough that their thighs brushed. Neither of them moved.

Then Jaemin called out cheerfully, “Hey! You guys should play something while we clean!”

“We are literally sitting,” Chenle shouted back.

“Exactly! Here-” And Jaemin appeared with a Nintendo Switch, shoved it into Jisung’s lap, and vanished again.

Chenle groaned, “This is a setup. It’s a literal setup.”

“Should we do it anyway?” Jisung asked

“Yeah, obviously.”

The game loaded. Mario Kart, of course. Chenle picked his character with military precision and cracked his knuckles dramatically as they started the race. Somewhere behind them, Jaemin and Jeno giggle liked middle school girls who just saw someone hold hands. Chenle ignored it. He was about to lap Jisung twice and call it a day until Jisung started to get ahead of him.

“Oh, so you want to die,” Chenle muttered, eyes narrowing.

“I warned you,” Jisung said mildly.

“You didn’t.”

“My silence was a warning.”

“You’re going to regret that.”

But he doesn’t. Because by the time the second race started, Chenle’s legs were tangled with Jisung’s under the blanket someone apparently tossed over them without either of them noticing. Their shoulders brushed again. It felt weirdly easy. Familiar. Like they’ve been sitting like this forever.

And then, of course, Donghyuck came back from wherever he’d vanished and immediately said, “Wow, you two look cozy.”

Chenle flipped him off. Jisung turned pink to the tips of his ears.

Jaemin emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of water and placed them on the table like he was officiating a wedding. “Hydrate,” he said sweetly, then turned to Jeno. “Phase One complete.”

“What did you just say?” Chenle asked.

“Nothing!” Jaemin and Jeno said together, too quickly.

Chenle glanced sideways at Jisung. Jisung stared at the wall like it holds all the answers in the universe.

This was getting ridiculous.

And yet, for some reason, Chenle didn’t move away.

They finished two more rounds. Jisung kept winning and Chenle kept yelling. The blanket stayed in place. They kept bumping knees while no one else sat on the couch. 

Somewhere deep in his gut, Chenle got the sense that this was going to get worse before it got better and that maybe, just maybe, he’s not as opposed to it as he thought.

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Chenle should’ve known something was wrong the second Jaemin had texted him: “bring your laptop and an open mind 💞” at 9:34 a.m.

He hadn’t responded. He’d just stared at the screen for a full minute, then thrown his phone across the bed and rolled back over, a pillow covering his face. He’d had plans that day, real ones, like spending three hours doing absolutely nothing, ordering fried chicken, and playing Valorant until his fingers hurt. He hadn’t asked to be included in whatever cursed social experiment Jaemin had been plotting this time.

But then the second text came. And the third. And then the call, which he ignored. And finally, the FaceTime call, which he’d only answered to tell Jaemin to choke. That’s when Jaemin had hit him with the final blow: “I will not lend you my notes one night before the exam if you don’t come.”

Which was how Chenle found himself standing outside Jaemin and Jeno’s dorm thirty minutes later, hoodie only half-zipped, laptop bag hanging off one shoulder, and a deeply betrayed look on his face.

The door opened before he could knock. Jeno grinned at him like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.

“You’re late,” Jeno said.

“I was resisting.”

Jeno stepped aside, “That’s cute. Come in.”

Chenle stepped inside, immediately hit by the overwhelming scent of something citrusy and fake, probably a diffuser. The living room looked immaculate. Suspiciously, eerily clean. Someone had vacuumed and there were two large cushions sat neatly on the floor. On the coffee table: color-coded highlighters, two matching mugs, a bowl of sliced strawberries, and a laptop stand.

“Why does this look like a date from a drama with bad lighting?” Chenle asked flatly.

Jaemin emerged from the kitchen like he’d been summoned, wearing a smug smile and carrying a tray of mini sandwiches.

“Because,” he said, “You have to create the right conditions for productivity. Clean space. Natural light. Mutual trust.”

Chenle pointed at the tray, “That’s egg salad.”

“Protein builds brainpower.”

“But Jeno’s allergic to eggs.”

“This isn’t for Jeno.”

Before Chenle could respond to that nightmare of a sentence, the front door opened again, and in walked Park Jisung, hair still damp, hoodie sleeves too long, and a very clear expression of what the hell did I just walk into on his face.

Jaemin beamed, “Welcome to study hour!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Jisung said again, but he was already setting down his bag because clearly, the damage had been done.

Chenle looked at him skeptically, “Why did you even come?”

“I told Jaemin no five times and he said you’d already agreed, so I got guilt-trapped.”

“I didn’t agree. I was coerced.”

Jaemin set down the tray, “And yet here you both are. Imagine that.”

Chenle and Jisung exchanged a long look. There was something deeply cursed about this room. Something too symmetrical, too well-prepared with two mugs, two cushions and one laptop stand. 

Chenle sat slowly, like the floor might explode. Jisung dropped beside him with the resigned energy of someone who knew he’d lost a battle he never signed up to fight. The moment they were seated, Jeno dimmed the lights slightly and put on an acoustic playlist that sounded like it belonged in a wedding montage.

Chenle side-eyed the speaker, “This is music for falling in love. Or dying dramatically in a forest.”

Jaemin shrugged, “Both valid during midterm season.”

They opened their laptops. Jisung pulled out a crumpled set of notes and started smoothing them on the table. Chenle reached for the highlighters and immediately regretted it when their fingers brushed and Jaemin let out the quietest ooh .

“Stop,” Chenle snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jaemin sang.

“You breathed judgmentally.”

“I breathed romantically.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re not.”

Chenle wasn’t. He wanted to, he really, really did, but his laptop was already open, and Jisung was already scrolling through a shared doc, and the scent of overpriced candle wax was already sinking into his clothes. There was something oddly compelling about the setup.

“Okay, we have this group assignment,” Jisung said after a few minutes, tapping the screen, “If we split these chapters, I’ll do 4–6, you do 7–9?”

Chenle nodded, flipping to the right page, “Deal. The one who finishes later buys lunch.”

“I’m already broke.”

“A deal is a deal.”

They fell into a rhythm, Jisung highlighting, Chenle typing, occasionally throwing curses at the academic system. It was disturbingly peaceful. Even the sandwiches tasted good. At one point, Jaemin brought them warm brownies “because carbs help the brain,” and Jisung had actually thanked him very sweetly, which made Chenle suspicious for at least five minutes. Every so often, their shoulders bumped but neither of them moved.

“Do you think,” Chenle muttered under his breath, “this is some kind of… social experiment?”

“I’m starting to think we’re in a simulation,” Jisung murmured.

“No, like, we’re the rats. And Jaemin’s running a trial to see if mood lighting increases emotional openness.”

Jisung blinked, “That… makes way too much sense.”

“You noticed there’s only one blanket, right?”

They both paused and looked toward the kitchen. Jaemin and Jeno had stood up a few minutes earlier, claiming they needed drinks. But now, the kitchen was suspiciously empty.

“Do you think-” Jisung began.

“They’re watching from the hallway,” Chenle finished.

Jisung reached for a brownie and sighed, “I’m too tired to care.”

They studied for another hour. They actually got work done, but it was the kind of work that felt charged. Chenle became aware of every small movement, every time Jisung leaned forward. The twitch of his fingers when he was thinking, the way he chewed his lip when trying to remember a term. He was too close or maybe not close enough. It was impossible to tell.

Jisung caught him staring once. Chenle covered it with a cough and aggressively highlighted something that didn’t need highlighting. Jisung didn’t call him out but he didn’t look away either.

By the time they finished, the lighting had dimmed even further, apparently automated. Jaemin strolled back in holding two glasses of lemonade like he’d been running a spa retreat.

“You two make a good team,” he said smoothly.

“Die,” Chenle replied.

Jeno smiled, “We’re doing this again tomorrow.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes you are,” Jaemin said, handing Jisung the lemonade and ruffling his hair. “Bonding is good for retention.”

Chenle stood up, “I’m going to scream.”

“You’re welcome to,” Jaemin said sweetly.

Chenle grabbed his bag and yanked it on. Jisung stood beside him, sipping his drink like he’d already mentally checked out. The walk to the door was quiet until Jaemin called out, “Same time tomorrow?”

“I’m blocking your number,” Chenle said.

“Okay but you’ll still come.”

Chenle didn’t answer. Jisung just mumbled, “Probably.”

They left without looking back. But the moment the door shut behind them, Jeno exhaled loudly and told Jaemin, “That was a successful double date.”

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It started with a rainstorm. Not the dramatic kind that broke windows and flooded streets. No, it was worse. It was the slow, sneaky drizzle that showed up out of nowhere, the kind of weather that trapped people exactly where they were. Jaemin had probably prayed for it.

Jisung realized they were screwed the moment he checked the forecast and saw a thunderstorm warning blinking on the screen like a smug little omen. The dorm hallways were already buzzing, people canceling plans, classes getting pushed, the Wi-Fi threatening to die. And through it all, Jaemin was suspiciously calm.

Chenle was sitting cross-legged on the couch when Jisung arrived, hoodie bunched at his elbows, one AirPod in, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He looked up, saw Jisung standing in the doorway with damp hair and an annoyed expression, and raised a brow.

"You made it," Chenle said.

"I didn’t have a choice," Jisung muttered, dropping his bag with a wet thud, "Jaemin said you were stuck here alone and that made me what, your emotional support animal?"

"Bold of him to assume I wanted that."

"Rude." Jisung dropped onto the other end of the couch, "I could’ve just stayed in my dorm. With a blanket and dry clothes."

Chenle shrugged, "But then you’d miss movie night."

There was a long pause before Jisung narrowed his eyes, "Movie night?"

Jaemin appeared in the kitchen doorway like he had been waiting for his cue.

"Yep. We’re doing comfort films. Snacks are already prepped. Oh, also..." He tossed a bundle of clothes at Jisung, who caught it awkwardly, "Spare shirt and sweats. You can’t sit on our furniture all damp and pitiful. Jeno would kill you."

"I didn’t say I was staying the night," Jisung said, holding up the clothes like they had personally offended him.

"Well, the storm says otherwise," Jaemin replied sweetly, "Power’s out in half the building. Wi-Fi’s dead. Most of the lower floors are already flooding."

Jisung blinked, "Seriously?"

"Super seriously," Jaemin said, then turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, "Anyway. Pajamas on in ten or I’m putting on Titanic. And you know I mean it."

Jisung turned slowly to Chenle, "Is that true? About the power?"

Chenle paused, then made a so-so gesture, "I mean, some of it probably is. The rest is just Jaemin being Jaemin."

"I’m going to strangle him."

"Get in line."

But Jisung did not leave, of course he didn’t. It was warm here, and he was already drenched in rain, and the idea of walking all the way back across campus in that weather sounded like punishment. Plus, it wasn’t the worst thing, being here. Not with Chenle slouched against the cushions like he owned the place, hair messy and eyes already drifting toward the TV.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both in borrowed clothes, oversized sweatshirts and baggy pants, mismatched socks. Chenle had a blanket across his lap and Jisung was holding a bowl of popcorn between them. Jaemin and Jeno were nowhere to be seen.

"I thought this was movie night," Chenle muttered, glancing at the blank TV.

Jisung checked his phone, "Jaemin texted. He and Jeno went out for a walk."

Chenle blinked, "In the storm?"

Jisung showed him the message.

don’t wait for us! enjoy the night ;)
attached photo: an umbrella and two thumbs up

"I think," Jisung said, voice flat, "we’ve been ditched."

Chenle leaned back and groaned, "This is so calculated."

"They’ve left us alone. On purpose."

"With one blanket."

"Two mugs."

"One bowl of popcorn."

"They’re sick," Chenle sighed, then grabbed the remote and scrolled aimlessly, "What do we watch?"

"Something awful," Jisung muttered, "So it can’t be romantic."

"No romcoms. Nothing with soft lighting."

"No childhood friends-to-lovers nonsense."

"No we got trapped inside and accidentally fell for each other."

"Yeah, none of that."

They settled on an aggressively bad zombie movie. Blood, guts, terrible one-liners, and a soundtrack that felt like it was physically attacking them. It was exactly what they needed, loud and dumb and completely devoid of any romantic subplots. And yet.

The blanket ended up covering both of them anyway. Not on purpose, just casually. It happened slowly, like gravity pulling them closer in quiet little shifts. One leg bumped another. A shoulder shifted. By the halfway point, Jisung’s arm was pressed along Chenle’s, and Chenle had not moved. They were both hyper-aware of it but neither said a word.

The movie went on and a zombie exploded.

Jisung yawned. "I hate this."

"It’s brilliant," Chenle said, eyes on the screen, "Look at that. He just killed someone with an axe."

"I’m losing brain cells."

"It’s not like you have many."

Jisung threw a popcorn kernel at his face.

Chenle smirked but didn’t retaliate. His voice softened, "You’re not cold, right?"

Jisung paused, "No. This is fine."

Chenle glanced at him. There was a beat where neither of them spoke. The screen flashed and a zombie bit someone’s ankle.

Jisung broke first,"Okay, so. Real question."

"Hit me."

"Do you think this is... like. Are they actually trying to set us up?"

Chenle was silent for a moment too long, "I think," he said slowly, "that Jaemin gets bored really easily."

"And when he’s bored?"

"He plays cupid."

Jisung shifted, his arm brushing Chenle’s, "And Jeno?"

"Jeno enables him."

"Cool. So we’re trapped in a matchmaking dungeon."

"Basically."

Jisung exhaled, then sank a little deeper into the couch, "We’re going to have to kill them."

"I’m not sharing a prison cell with you."

"I’ll commit the crime. You’ll be my alibi."

Chenle laughed, a low, tired sound that made his whole chest shake. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the movie ended and neither of them moved to change it.

Eventually, Chenle spoke again, voice quieter, "They’re not entirely wrong though."

Jisung looked at him. "What?"

"I mean, we do spend a lot of time together."

"Because they keep trapping us."

Chenle shrugged, "Still."

Jisung did not reply. But he did not move away either. And somehow, against all logic, all stubbornness, all indignation, the blanket shifted again. This time, Jisung’s hand ended up right next to Chenle’s.

Close enough to touch but neither of them did.

They did not pull away either.

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It started with a group chat message.

jaemin: everyone shut up we’re going out tonight
jeno: wear something breathable
jaemin: and bring your ID, chenle, i swear to god
chenle: what kind of night is this
jaemin: the life-changing kind 💞

Chenle had known better than to trust Jaemin when he got cryptic, especially when Jeno started backing him up. But by the time it was 10 PM, the cab was already waiting, Jaemin was shouting something about “living our life,” and Renjun was texting death threats because his cab was taking too long to arrive.

The club was obnoxious in the way all nightclubs were. Fluorescent lights, pulsing bass, a line outside that stretched around the corner. Inside, it was heat and motion, people pressed close and all over each other.

Chenle was halfway through yelling at the bartender for soda water when Jaemin slinked up beside him, glitter already somehow on his face.

“You look tense,” Jaemin said in his ear.

“I’m in a room full of sweat and alcohol. I’m fine,” Chenle replied.

“You need to dance.”

“I need to live.” Chenle grabbed his drink. “You better not be setting me up tonight.”

Jaemin grinned, “Why would I do that?”

“Because you live for chaos.”

“Chaos is just misunderstood order,” Jaemin said vaguely, then disappeared into the crowd.

That was when Chenle turned and found Jisung.

Of course.

He was leaning against the bar, tall and clean and unfair in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up. There was a bead of sweat near his jaw. His hair was a little messy, like he had already been dancing.

Chenle wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Jisung said, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing.

Chenle raised his glass, “How convenient that you’re here.”

“Total coincidence.”

“You got dragged here too?”

“Willingly.”

“Loser.”

Jisung chuckled, “You’re staring.”

“I am observing.”

Jisung’s grin widened. It would have been fine if the DJ hadn’t changed tracks at that exact moment. The lights dropped to a deep red hue, and the entire club shifted into a slow-tempo R&B track just as the space around them cleared a little too conveniently.

One song ended. Another began, slower and synth-heavy, and Chenle wanted to escape.

Before he could, Jeno walked right up and pushed the two of them toward the dance floor.

“You losers need to get some physical exercise done. Why are you standing in a damn club instead of dancing?” Jeno said.

Chenle shot him a death glare and muttered to Jisung, “I am going to lose all my hair trying to understand what they’re trying to achieve with all this.”

They reached the floor. Bodies moved around them, flashes of skin and color and heat. There was no space and yet too much space all at once. The lights blinked red, then purple. Chenle swallowed hard.

Jisung’s hand slid from Chenle’s wrist to his fingers, not laced, just touching. It was enough to count, Chenle didn’t pull away.

They started moving, slowly at first.

“I can practically feel Jaemin’s eyes on us,” Jisung murmured.

“I’m wondering what they even want.”

“Just playing cupid, I guess.”

“You seem awfully comfortable with this.”

Jisung laughed, soft and close, “Relax. I’m not going to do anything weird.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Then Jisung’s hand moved to Chenle’s waist. It was light but solid, grounding in a way that made Chenle’s body react before his brain did. He could feel the heat of Jisung’s breath near his cheek and could hear the sound of his own pulse competing with the bassline. It was annoying. 

Chenle’s mouth opened and then closed again when he found himself speechless. His hand came up, maybe to push Jisung back or maybe to anchor himself, but it ended up landing lightly on Jisung’s shoulder. The tension only grew from there.

They moved like that for another song, maybe two. Chenle lost track of time. The world became a blur of lights and glances and proximity and everything felt sharpened.

At some point, Jaemin appeared again from somewhere in the crowd, slapped a drink into Jeno’s hand, and shot them a thumbs up like a proud camp counselor.

Chenle and Jisung both saw it but neither of them said anything.

Eventually, they drifted off the dance floor, breathless and flushed, pretending they were just tired. Outside the bathroom, Chenle leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

Jisung returned first. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned now, and his hair was damp from sweat.

“You good?” Jisung asked.

Chenle hummed, “Define good.”

“Still want to strangle Jaemin?”

“Every day.”

“Still want to dance?”

Chenle opened his eyes, “Do I have a choice?”

Jisung chuckled, “Not really.”

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It started the next afternoon, the day after the club.

Chenle’s head was still pounding, not from alcohol (he had barely drunk), but from remembering. The dancing, the hand on his waist, the way Jisung’s shirt had kept coming unbuttoned like some kind of planned attack. The proximity, the heat, and the way he hadn’t moved away. He was halfway through spiraling about it when Jeno walked in with a smoothie.

“You looked like you were thinking… which was never a good thing,” Jeno said, flopping onto the bed.

“I was considering suicide.”

“Hot. Was this about last night?”

Chenle groaned into his pillow.

Jeno slurped obnoxiously. “You and Jisung looked pretty cozy on the dance floor.”

“Do not start.”

“No judgment. Actually, this was helpful. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Chenle peeked through his fingers. “Why did I have a feeling that this was not going to be good?”

Jeno leaned in, conspiratorially. “Look. I wasn’t going to say anything, but... Jisung’s been talking.”

Chenle lifted his head. “Talking?”

“Yeah. About you.”

That got his attention.

Jeno lowered his voice, like he was doing this against his better judgment. “He told Jaemin, and obviously Jaemin told me because he had no boundaries… anyway, apparently Jisung thought you were, like... easy to get flustered.”

Chenle sat up. “What.”

“Like easily shy when flirted with and pushed around. His words, not mine.”

“Jisung said that?”

“Yup. Said he could make you bottom out just by looking at you.”

Chenle gaped at him, “He did not… And why is he even imagining us in those kinda scenarios?”

“I mean,” Jeno shrugs, sipping his smoothie again, “Maybe not in those exact words. But the vibe was there.”

Chenle looks personally offended, “I am not the kind to get shy over being manhandled, please...”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m not… bottomish.”

“Obviously.”

“I literally… how dare he?!”

Jeno patted his shoulder, like consoling a wound, “Don’t take it personally. I just thought you should know. So you can, you know? Assert yourself.”

Chenle stared, “I hate you,” he muttered, already reaching for his phone.

Meanwhile, across the campus.

Jaemin was doing the exact same thing.

Jisung was sitting cross-legged on his couch with a banana milkshake in one hand and a death note in the other, because letting Jaemin into your apartment is a mistake, given his love for chaos and lack of silence.

“So,” Jaemin said, popping a grape into his mouth, “I talked to Chenle.”

Jisung paused mid-sip, “About what?”

Jaemin waves that off, “Just casual college stuff, but the point is, he said some things.”

Jisung frowned, “What things?”

“About you. About... your vibe.”

“My vibe?”

Jaemin leaned forward, “Look, I don’t mean to alarm you, but apparently he thinks you’re timid.”

Jisung choked, “What?”

“Shy and hesitant. Someone who can’t take initiative.”

“Excuse me-”

“He said you panic easily and freeze up when things get even a little flirty. That you’d never take control unless someone made you.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Exactly what I said.”

“I am extremely capable of initiating things.”

“Right??”

“He has a totally wrong perspective!”

“I told him that!” Jaemin cried, standing up like this was a courtroom drama, “But he didn’t believe me!”

Jisung stood up too, because now it was now a matter of honor, “I’m literally taller than him.”

“He said height doesn’t equal confidence.”

“I asked him to dance!”

“He said you hesitated for five seconds.”

“Yeah, because I was trying to remember what song was playing.”

Jaemin held up both hands. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you don’t want him to think you’re... soft... maybe you should show him you’re not.”

And when Jisung reached out for his phone, Jaemin did too, texting Jeno a thumbs up. 

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The last thing Chenle expected when he rang the bell was for Jisung to open the door half-naked and completely unbothered about it.

Jisung was just wearing a damn towel. "Yeah, okay,” he said, brushing wet hair out of his eyes and stepping aside like this wasn’t a crisis, “You’re early.”

Chenle blinked, “Are you serious right now?”

“You said seven. It’s 6:51.”

“You’re in a towel.”

“And you’re in a cropped hoodie. So what?”

Chenle stepped inside like he had any control over the situation, trying very hard not to look at the drops of water still clinging to Jisung’s collarbone.

“I just need like-” Jisung gestured vaguely toward the hallway “-two minutes. Don’t touch anything weird.”

“Define weird.”

Jisung gave him a look and padded off, towel swishing. Chenle stood in the living room, staring at the couch like it owed him an explanation. He took his time pulling off his shoes, adjusting his sleeves, glancing at the TV remote on the table like that was safer to focus on.

It wasn’t a date. Obviously, it was just a movie night. It didn’t matter that he’d changed hoodies twice before leaving or that he’d debated cologne.

He sat down with his legs crossed, deliberately casual, the hem of his hoodie sliding just a little higher than necessary. No one was trying anything here. 

Jisung returned before Chenle could finish convincing himself of any of that.

Fully dressed now, thank God, in a black t-shirt and soft gray joggers, hair still damp but brushed back, skin warm from the shower. The kind of casual that felt too effortless to be innocent.

He flopped onto the couch, one leg tucked under, the other stretching close enough to bump Chenle’s ankle.

“I didn’t pick anything,” Jisung said, grabbing the remote. “Figured we could argue about it together.”

“Very democratic of you.”

“I’m nothing if not accommodating.”

Chenle reached for the popcorn bowl on the table, snagging a handful and leaning back like he owned the entire left half of the couch, “Let’s not pretend we’re actually going to watch anything.”

“Wow,” Jisung said, mock offended. “You come here for the vibes, not the content?”

“I like to believe you’re the content.”

“I know I am.”

Chenle laughed, short and sharp, “Unbearable.”

“You love it.”

Chenle didn’t answer. He just tossed a piece of popcorn at Jisung’s chest and missed by a mile.

They settled on something, some action movie with an absurd title and an overdramatic poster. Chenle didn’t care because Jisung was too close again, like always. They weren’t even shoulder to shoulder, but the air between them felt narrowed and shared.

Twenty minutes in, Jisung shifted, leaned back deeper into the couch, his knee brushing against Chenle’s thigh. Not hard, just a touch, but it stayed.

Chenle didn’t move. He wasn’t going to be the one to flinch first.

“I was gonna say you looked nice,” Jisung said eventually, eyes still on the screen.

“But?”

“But then you opened your mouth.”

Chenle smiled, slowly, “Admit it. You were thrown off at the door.”

“By what?”

“The hoodie.”

Jisung turned his head lazily, scanning Chenle’s frame with exaggerated disinterest, “It’s fine. You’ve worn it before.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Just means you’re predictable.”

“Better than showing in a damn towel.”

“That wasn’t for you.”

“You opened the door like that.”

“You rang the bell early.”

Chenle tilted his head, “I didn’t mind.”

There it was again. The pause, that subtle recalibration between them, where the space shrank and neither seemed sure who had just pushed it closer.

Jisung didn’t move. He just smirked, “Yeah. Me neither.”

The movie thundered on in the background. Explosions, gunshots and someone screaming something about revenge. It all faded beneath the simmering quiet of their proximity.

Chenle shifted his weight a little, enough to angle toward Jisung without fully facing him, “You always flirt like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to have the last word?”

“I do.”

Chenle’s gaze dropped, not far, just enough to register the slope of Jisung’s jaw, the way his mouth twitched slightly like he knew exactly what he was doing and wasn’t sorry about it. 

“You’re not that competitive,” Chenle said.

Jisung raised an eyebrow, “Is that a challenge?”

“Is being annoying now your default setting?”

“I just like keeping it interesting.”

“You think this is interesting?”

“I think,” Jisung said, shifting again, this time leaning a little closer, forearm resting casually behind Chenle on the couch, “you’re enjoying this more than you want to admit.”

Chenle didn’t look away, “If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t be here.”

The silence settled deeper.

And then Jisung reached over, not to close the gap, not to do anything dangerous but to pluck a piece of popcorn from the bowl in Chenle’s lap. His fingers brushed Chenle’s thigh lightly. 

Chenle watched him eat it like it was a line being crossed and he didn’t want to stop.

Jisung didn’t say anything after that.

He just leaned back like nothing had happened. His fingers were clean now, resting in the dip between couch cushions, but Chenle could still feel the brush of them against his thigh, light, brief, unmistakable.

The popcorn tasted too salty now.

The movie played on, dim flashes reflecting across their faces, neither of them really watching. Chenle pretended to, just to have somewhere to rest his eyes, somewhere safer than the edge of Jisung’s jaw or the curve of his mouth when he wasn’t smiling.

His heart was beating too loud. It wasn’t obvious but his fingers were curled a little tighter around the pillow in his lap. His knee had stopped bouncing. And he was suddenly, painfully aware of the distance between their legs or the lack of it.

Jisung shifted. Not away but not closer either. Just enough to adjust the way his arm was draped behind the couch. His knuckles brushed the back of Chenle’s hoodie.

Chenle didn’t move.

“Comfortable?” Jisung asked, voice quiet, not teasing.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, “You look like it.”

Chenle’s gaze flicked to him, just for a second. It was quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that never fully settled. Chenle could hear Jisung’s breath, soft and steady, the faint click of his nail against the popcorn bowl rim, the movie’s soundtrack swelling for no reason. He tried to focus on the screen but it didn’t help.

“Is this weird?” Chenle asked suddenly.

Jisung blinked, “The movie?”

“No.” Chenle shook his head, “This.”

Jisung didn’t answer right away. He just glanced over again, properly, this time and let the pause stretch, “Only if you’re thinking about it.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s good,” Jisung said, “Neither am I.”

But he didn’t look away.

Chenle didn’t, either.

There was nothing obvious in it, no clear invitation, no lean-in, no smirk. Just quiet acknowledgement, shared like a secret and something about that made Chenle feel warmer than anything else tonight.

He shifted a little, curling his legs beneath him to sit sideways. It brought his knee flush against Jisung’s but neither of them commented on it.

The movie flickered blue across the room.

“You always this talkative?” Chenle asked.

“I thought you liked the silence,” Jisung said, tone unreadable.

“Only when it's not this heavy.”

Jisung hummed under his breath, “You like reading into things, don’t you.”

Chenle didn’t smile, but it was close. Another glance.

It wasn’t dramatic. Nothing was happening, really, but the air between them had shifted, from easy to deliberate, and from casual to something else. Neither had said anything, but both were braced, slightly, like they were waiting for the other to move.

“Are you staying for the night?” Jisung asked, as if it were nothing.

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“You can steal a shirt.”

“I don’t steal.”

“You can ask nicely.”

Chenle exhaled through his nose, “Would that work on you?”

Jisung’s lip twitched, “Depends how nicely.”

Chenle didn’t say anything to that, he didn’t have to. The silence was doing all the work now, stretched thin between them, not heavy, just taut.

“You cold?” Jisung asked after a while.

“No.”

“You sure?”

Chenle gave him a look, “You want to offer me a blanket or something?”

“I was gonna move closer.”

Chenle raised an eyebrow, “And that helps how?”

“I am warm.”

Chenle bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re not moving away.”

Jisung was right. Chenle stayed right there, knee to knee, shoulder nearly brushing Jisung’s arm. The light from the TV caught the curve of Jisung’s cheekbone, the edge of his collarbone where his shirt had slipped slightly. Chenle didn’t let his eyes linger, but he wanted to.

“I guess you can move closer. I feel cold,” he said, voice quiet now.

Jisung didn’t react right away. Just shifted, leaned back into the couch like they hadn’t been holding that tension between them like a live wire.

No teasing, no smirking triumph. Just a statement as Jisung shifted closer and Chenle could breath in his cologne. 

The movie droned on and neither of them moved for a while. And somehow, that still felt like everything.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆

It started with a lie about a hoodie. It should’ve ended with one of them slamming the door in the other’s face.

But instead, Chenle was inside Jisung’s apartment, again, blinking at the place like it had rearranged itself just to trap him. The floorboards creaked under his sneakers, the air smelled like fabric softener and clean sweat, and the silence between them was the kind that felt staged.

He stood in the kitchen, hands in his pockets, trying not to look like he was already two steps into a trap he could see coming a mile away.

“So,” he said.

“So,” Jisung echoed.

Chenle exhaled, sharp, “Jeno told me his hoodie was here and asked me to come here all the way across campus. Said you had it.”

Jisung gave him a blank look, then shook his head with a humorless smile, “You’re kidding. I already searched the whole apartment. Jaemin texted me earlier.”

“And you didn’t find it.”

“Of course I didn’t find it. There is no hoodie.”

Chenle crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, eyes narrowed, “We’re so fucking dumb.”

“They played us.”

“Again.”

“They’re getting better at it.”

Chenle bit back a groan and rolled his head back against the cabinet, “I swear to god, they’re betting on us like it’s a sport. I don’t even know what this shit is about?”

Jisung leaned against the opposite counter, mirroring him, “Pretty sure they are playing some game. I heard Jaemin whisper the words ‘power dynamic’ the other day while staring at us.”

Chenle scoffed, “Creeps.”

“And yet,” Jisung said, tilting his head slightly, “You decided to trust them and come here.”

“You could’ve texted me first instead of tearing your apartment apart.”

Jisung shrugged, lazy, “Well, you’re already here.”

“Seems like I am staying.”

They stared at each other for a second, long, drawn-out, the kind of silence where the walls start to hum. The tension wasn’t new, but it felt different this time. 

Jisung stepped closer. Not fast, just enough for Chenle to register the shift in pressure.

Chenle didn’t move, “You always do this.”

Jisung tilted his head, “Do what?”

“This whole ‘lean in, flirt, smirk, walk away’ thing.”

“Maybe I like watching you squirm.”

“I don’t squirm.”

“You blink more when you lie.”

“I do not.”

Jisung was closer now, within arm’s reach. The counter pressed into Chenle’s lower back. He refused to step away so it wouldn’t give Jisung the satisfaction.

Jisung leaned one hand against the counter next to him, fingers splayed, gaze locked on his, “Why haven’t you told me to back off?”

“Because you haven’t done anything worth backing off from.”

Jisung’s mouth curved, “Yet.”

The word lingered.

The air felt warmer. Not hot or suffocating, just charged, like there was a low-voltage current threading between them, making Chenle hyperaware of every breath. How close Jisung’s thigh was to brushing his or the way Jisung’s fingers curled slightly against the counter, just a few inches from his waist.

“Say something snarky,” Jisung murmured, “I know you want to.”

“Why? So you can flirt back and pretend it was a joke?”

“So I can watch you pretend it didn’t affect you.”

Chenle laughed, short and breathy, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…”

Chenle tilted his head, “You think this is gonna work?”

“You think I’m trying?”

“You’re always trying.”

“And you’re always letting me.”

That shut Chenle up.

He hated the way Jisung always said things like that, like a trap daring him to fall in. He hated how it worked. Hated that his heart was already picking up speed, or that his mouth felt a little too dry and that his whole body was aware of just how little distance was left between them.

Jisung didn’t move any closer, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was loud. The kind of loud that echoed under your skin.

“I can kiss you,” Jisung said, so casually it almost sounded like a weather update.

Chenle blinked, “Excuse me?”

“I said, I can. Doesn’t mean I will.”

“Who said I wanted you to?”

“You haven’t said no.”

“You haven’t asked.”

Jisung’s gaze flicked to his mouth, then back up, “Would it be funny if I did?”

“Try me.”

Their eyes locked again, and this time, it stuck. Jisung leaned in, slowly. His hand ghosted closer to Chenle’s hip. His head tilted just slightly, not enough to commit but just enough to imply.

Chenle’s breath caught.

And now they were close. So close it felt like standing on the edge of something with no idea how far the fall would go. Jisung’s breath brushed against his skin while Chenle’s fingers curled behind him, gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles ached.

“You gonna move?” Jisung whispered.

“No.”

“You gonna stop me?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Chenle licked his lips, slowly, “Yeah.”

That was when Jisung moved, just barely. His hand slid to rest against the counter right beside Chenle’s waist. His body angled forward while his mouth hovered so close their noses almost brushed.

And Chenle didn’t move. He couldn’t move..

He wanted to know what would happen if he leaned in. If Jisung would actually kiss him or just keep playing this maddening game until they both exploded.

Seconds passed or maybe hours. Chenle couldn’t tell.

Then Jisung leaned in that final inch, not enough to touch, but enough to feel it. Enough for his lips to ghost over Chenle’s.

And then he stopped. He smiled slowly as he pulled back.

Chenle stood there, stunned. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

Jisung ran a hand through his hair and stepped back completely, like he hadn’t just lit a match and dropped it between them, “Told you.”

“You’re actually the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“Flattered.”

Chenle was still gripping the counter. He forced his fingers to relax, “One day you’re gonna do that and I’m not gonna let you leave.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Chenle watched him walk to the fridge like nothing happened, like the room wasn’t still humming, like his body hadn’t been ten seconds from leaning into something dangerous.

He should’ve walked out. He should’ve said something mean or stupid or dismissive but instead, he stayed and watched Jisung drink straight from a water bottle like a menace and the way his smile lingered.

Chenle exhaled, slowly, “Jisung.”

Jisung turned, “Yeah?”

“This is not a silly game.”

“I am aware… Eitherway, I am winning.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?” Chenle asked, deadpan, arms crossed as he watched Jeno toss grapes into the air and try to catch them in his mouth. 

“Loud and clear,” Jeno replied, grinning like he hadn’t just insulted the entire foundation of Chenle’s flirting skills, “I’m giving you a psychological edge, okay? This is a real sports strategy.”

“Jeno,” Chenle said slowly, “You’re shirtless, sitting on a beanbag, and mumbling anything with a mouthful of grapes. There’s no strategy. This is just you being annoying.”

“I’m not annoying. I’m invested in gossip,” Jeno said, “You need to trust me. Jisung is all bark, no bite. You just gotta look at him the right way, and he short-circuits.”

“You’re literally making this up.”

“I’ve known him since he was in braces and refused to order food on the phone,” Jeno shot back, “Trust me. You could have him on his knees with one look.”

“That sounds illegal.”

“That sounds hot.”

Chenle rolled his eyes so hard it gave him a headache, “You haven’t even seen us interact. You’re just projecting.”

“Jaemin agrees with me.”

“You two would agree that Yangyang would top Renjun just because he wears more leather.”

“Because he does!” Jeno exclaimed, “Have you seen the way Renjun, who by the way everyone is a little terrified of, folds when Yangyang gets serious? It’s biology.”

“This is insane.”

“What’s insane is you letting Jisung get the upper hand. You blink too much when he flirts with you.”

“I do not blink too much.”

“Bro, you blink like you’re sending Morse code for ‘please rail me.’”

Chenle shrieked and whipped a pillow at him, “You’re insane! I’m going home!”

Jeno blocked it with his knee and leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to look him in the eye, smirk like the smug bastard you are, and remind him why everyone in our friend group is secretly scared of you.”

“No one’s scared of me.”

“Ten is terrified of you.”

“Ten is terrified of everyone . ”

“My point exactly,” Jeno said, “You’ve got power. Natural dominance. Use it.”

Chenle collapsed onto the couch beside him with a groan, “This is the stupidest plan you’ve ever come up with.”

“Chenle, I am just saying!”

“You should get a damn job.”

“You should be assertive.”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

“You’ll thank me when you’re making out with Jisung against a wall and getting him to beg for you.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Later that evening, Chenle stood outside Jaemin’s apartment building, staring at his phone with narrowed eyes.

jaemin : come over babydoll. it’s another  movie night. everyone’s here. bring sodaaa

He had not brought soda. He had, however, brought suspicion, because there was no world in which Jaemin and Jeno were suddenly this interested in movie nights. Especially after last time, when Jaemin had left them alone in the thunderstorm.

Still, against his better judgment, Chenle buzzed up. And of course, when he knocked, it was Jisung who opened the door.

He was wearing a fitted white long-sleeve shirt and soft grey joggers, the kind that looked like sin disguised as loungewear. His hair was still a little damp, like he’d just showered. 

“Let me guess,” Jisung said, leaning against the doorframe, voice lazy and amused, “Jaemin told you everyone’s already here?”

Chenle held up his hands, “I didn’t bring soda.”

Jisung stepped aside, letting him in with a grin, “Jaemin and Jeno just left saying you would definitely not bring soda and they both need to go fetch it.”

Chenle stepped inside slowly. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Take a number,” Jisung said, already flopping onto the couch and stretching out like it was own home, “I’ve been here fifteen minutes and realized halfway through no one else was coming. I texted Renjun, he said he hadn’t heard about this plan. And I am pretty sure Donghyuck and Mark are fucking right now… I saw them walk towards Mark’s apartment?”

Chenle hovered awkwardly, then perched on the edge of the armchair, the one placed annoyingly far from the couch, “I am so impressed by Jeno and Jaemin’s commitment for setting us up.”

Jisung laughed under his breath, “They probably have a spreadsheet full of ideas. Bet Jaemin’s already written our wedding vows.”

That made Chenle pause. The ridiculousness of it made him laugh, but there was something strange under the surface. Something prickling. He crossed the room to the kitchen, if only to have distance. He opened the fridge, saw nothing except almond milk and questionable kimchi, then closed it again.

Jisung followed, appearing beside him like a ghost, “What are you thinking?”

Chenle tapped the counter with his fingers. “I don’t even know why they’re trying to set us up.”

Jisung shrugged, “I thought we agreed that it is because they’re bored..”

“Maybe. But somehow... it’s working. That’s the part I don’t get.”

Jisung’s voice dropped slightly. “Why? Would it be so bad if it did?”

Chenle turned to face him. Their proximity hit him like a wave, the quiet of the apartment, the way Jisung’s hair was curling slightly at the edges, the soft scent of his shampoo.

Chenle said. “It’s just unexpected.”

Jisung stepped in a little closer, one hand bracing against the counter beside him. Not trapping, not aggressive. Just enough to shift the atmosphere entirely. Chenle wondered how they ended up again in the same position.

“Unexpected’s not always bad.”

Chenle raised a brow, trying to sound steady, “You flirting with me now?”

Jisung smiled, “Would that make you flustered?”

“Not even a little,” Chenle muttered, remembering Jeno’s advice. 

“You sure?” Jisung leaned in, nose nearly brushing his cheek.

Chenle felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He refused to back down. “Try harder,” he whispered.

Jisung’s hand brushed Chenle’s waist, fingertips skimming just above the hem of his shirt. Barely there, the kind of touch you could pretend didn’t mean anything, if you were oblivious enough. Chenle didn’t flinch, but he wasn’t sure if it was from stubbornness or because every nerve in his body had stopped working.

“Still not flustered?” Jisung said again, quieter this time.

Chenle scoffed, but it came out shaky, “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

Jisung hummed behind him. Then he tugged gently, just enough to shift Chenle back until he was pressed against the counter. And Jisung followed, fitting into the space in front of him like he’d done this a hundred times before.

Chenle’s back straightened, instincts screaming to push him off, or step away, or breathe. But he didn’t. He stayed still, like his pride was more important than oxygen.

And then Jisung’s other hand slipped under his shirt.

The skin-to-skin contact was electric. Warm, slow fingers spreading over his ribs, thumb tracing lightly along the curve of his waist, his grip never tight, just confident. Like he had all the time in the world.

Chenle bit the inside of his cheek.

“Still not flustered?” Jisung whispered near his ear, his breath feathering against skin.

“No,” Chenle said, barely.

Jisung’s body was fully against his now, pressing into him, tall, broad, and infuriatingly calm. Chenle could feel every difference in their size. The way Jisung had to lean down just slightly to speak into his ear. The way his hands wrapped around his waist like they belonged there. The way he didn’t even have to try to crowd him in.

Jisung was definitely taller and had a bigger frame, and he used it casually, like he didn’t realize how dizzying that was. Chenle hated how much it affected him.

“Still not flustered?” Jisung asked again, almost teasing now.

He turned Chenle slightly by the waist, until they were nearly chest to chest. Chenle’s hands came up instinctively, gripping the edge of the counter behind him, knuckles tight, like if he let go, he’d do something stupid.

Jisung leaned forward, slow and maddening, until their faces were barely apart.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m cold,” Chenle muttered.

Jisung smiled, “Sure.”

His thumb brushed slow circles under Chenle’s shirt. His other hand came to rest on the counter behind him, caging him in with ease, not forceful, just there. Chenle felt tiny, swallowed by his shadow, caught between the warmth of Jisung and the hard edge of the counter digging into his lower back.

His heart was pounding and his skin was too hot. His head felt like it had been unplugged.

“Still not flustered?” Jisung said again, now barely above a whisper, right against his lips.

Chenle breathed out and that breath almost turned into something else. 

And then Jisung leaned in just close enough for their lips to brush. Just enough for Chenle to arch instinctively toward him, fists clenched at his sides, chest tight with everything he wasn’t saying.

But he never got the kiss.

Jisung pulled back, just an inch which was enough to wreck him. With a smirk, low, devastating, and far too satisfied, he said, “Not tonight.”

Chenle stayed frozen, breathless, staring at him like he’d been short-circuited. The space Jisung left behind felt too cold, too wide. His shirt still hung askew from where those hands had been. His skin still tingled.

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t.

Jisung turned to leave the kitchen like nothing happened, pausing only once to glance over his shoulder and say, “You sure you’re not flustered now?”

And Chenle, dazed, humiliated, and very aware of the heat crawling up his neck couldn’t find a single lie good enough to say no.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The door opened after two knocks.

Chenle blinked at him once, standing barefoot in a white tee that hung slightly off his collarbone and sweatpants. His hair was pushed back like he’d just run a hand through it. 

“What now?” he asked, tone unreadable.

Jisung tilted the screen toward him, scrolling to the message:

forgot my laptop at chenle’s during that dumb stats session
jisung u live closest
go fetch thx 🙏🏽

Chenle read it and then sighed like he was being personally punished for existing, “He’s so dramatic. I told him it was under the desk. Come in, whatever.”

The door opened wider and Jisung stepped in, kicking off his sneakers out of habit. The apartment smelled like sandalwood and laundry detergent. He walked ahead of Jisung, already muttering under his breath, “He always keeps forgetting stuff, oh god.”

Jisung trailed behind him toward the bedroom, “You always let him crash here?”

“Only when he promises to buy me dinner after.”

“And does he?”

“Never.”

They entered the bedroom. The desk was cluttered with paper, a keyboard pushed to the side, a water bottle left half-drunk beside it. Chenle ducked down to peer under the desk while Jisung leaned casually in the doorway, letting his gaze wander.

“You’re kind of a neat freak,” Jisung observed.

Chenle grunted from below, “I literally have two socks on my window sill.”

“Yeah, but they’re folded.”

Chenle emerged, laptop in hand, “Here. Mission complete. Goodbye.”

Jisung didn’t move, “You always this welcoming?”

“You always this slow?”

He took a step forward, and Chenle moved to sidestep him, but Jisung cut the path clean with his body, blocking the exit. Chenle paused, eyes flicking up.

Jisung smiled. “Relax..”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You looked like you want to.”

Chenle gave him a dry look and reached over to shove the laptop against his chest. Jisung caught it easily, but didn’t leave. He stayed close, too close and Chenle didn’t back away.

“You good?” Jisung asked lightly, “You look tense.”

“I look like someone who’s being hovered over.”

“You sound flustered.”

Chenle scoffed, “I’m not and stop using that word.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chenle rolled his eyes. “You think you're charming, don't you?”

“I know I am.”

Chenle muttered something in Mandarin that sounded very unflattering. Jisung stepped forward again, until there was only a breath of space between them.

“You don’t move away,” he said softly.

“You don’t either,” Chenle replied, voice steady but lower now.

Jisung glanced down at him, his shorter frame pressed lightly against the desk, fingers curled around its edge, legs braced like he didn’t know whether to fight or run. He tilted his chin up just slightly, defiant as ever, even with his hoodie slipping off one shoulder and his breath slightly uneven.

“You nervous?” Jisung asked, gaze dropping momentarily to Chenle’s lips as he set the laptop aside.

Chenle let out a sharp laugh, “Shut up.”

Jisung leaned forward slowly, palm landing on the desk behind Chenle’s hip, “That wasn’t a no.”

Chenle’s breath caught. His hands didn’t move, “You do this a lot?”

Jisung’s smile returned, slow and smug, “Just with you.”

“Because I’m irresistible?”

“Because you’re fun to mess with.”

Chenle snorted, but didn’t pull away, “You think this is messing?”

“I think yes, considering you’re still here.”

“Because you’re in front of the door.”

“You can push me.”

“I can.”

Jisung leaned in, voice softer now, “Then why haven’t you?”

Chenle didn’t answer. His throat moved when he swallowed. Jisung’s free hand ghosted up his side, just barely grazing over the hoodie hem, fingertips brushing skin.

Chenle inhaled, sharply but didn’t stop him.

“Are you sure you’re not nervous?” Jisung whispered, brushing the fabric up, hand warm on bare skin.

“No,” Chenle said, a little too fast.

Jisung hummed, “You sure?”

“I said no.”

Jisung’s hand moved higher, his palm pressing flat along Chenle’s ribcage, feeling every breath stutter.

“Want me to stop?”

“Yes.”

His fingers brushed up Chenle’s spine, “Sure?”

Chenle’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, “No.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Chenle opened his eyes slowly, “You like it.”

Jisung leaned down, mouth hovering just at Chenle’s cheek, smiling in agreement. Chenle didn’t speak. He couldn’t when Jisung’s body practically dwarfed him, his voice hitting nerves like it was designed to. Not when his fingers were splayed over his back, just under the hoodie now, tracing lazy patterns that had no business feeling this good.

Chenle’s voice broke on a whisper, “I hate you.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re flushed.”

“It’s warm.”

“You’re looking at my mouth."

“I’m annoyed.”

“Say the word and I’ll leave.”

Silence. Chenle didn’t say it, instead, he said, “You’re so fucking smug.”

Jisung grinned, “Because I win.” 

Chenle huffed out a dry breath, chest rising fast beneath the hoodie, “You didn’t win shit.”

“Oh no?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet. It’s been the same story twice now.”

Jisung blinked once, slowly, as if letting the weight of that settle, “Didn’t realize you were keeping score.”

“I’m not,” Chenle said, “I’m just saying. If you’re gonna win, you better go all the way.”

That earned him a low laugh. Jisung’s eyes dipped to his lips again before flicking up, amused, “Careful. That sounds dangerously like begging.”

Jisung’s hands moved instinctively, one settling on Chenle’s waist, the other lifting to touch the side of his face. The room felt like it was holding its breath.

Chenle’s fingers curled into the fabric of Jisung’s shirt, “You gonna do something, or just stand there being annoying?”

Jisung hummed, brushing his thumb along the curve of Chenle’s cheek, “You talk so much.”

“Then shut me up.”

Jisung leaned in, painfully slow, close enough for their lips to almost touch. The air between them was magnetic. Chenle’s grip on his shirt tightened, breath hitching, heartbeat loud enough to fill the room.

But Jisung didn’t close the gap. He hovered so close.

And then, just when Chenle swore he couldn’t take another second, Jisung pulled back. Barely, just an inch but it was enough to break the spell.

Chenle’s eyes flicked open, dazed and stunned, “You’re actually serious.”

Jisung smirked, “What? You didn’t think I’d make you work for it?”

“You’re evil.”

“Mm.” He turned slightly, like he was about to step back, “Maybe I should go. Jaemin needs his laptop.”

And that’s when Chenle’s fingers grabbed the front of his shirt again, yanking him forward, “Please, Jisung.”

That did it.

The cockiness flickered into something different. Jisung didn’t speak. Instead, he just cupped Chenle’s jaw with both hands this time, tilted his face up, and kissed him like it was a decision he’d been circling for days.

The moment their lips collided, it was chaos.

Chenle didn’t know who moved first, whether he pulled Jisung down or Jisung just gave in, but the result hit like a fuse being lit. Jisung kissed him like he’d run out of patience, tongue sweeping against his bottom lip before Chenle could even catch his breath. It wasn’t sweet and instead was all teeth and pressure, desperate and full of all the things they hadn’t said.

Chenle let out a muffled sound as his back hit the desk again, hands blindly grasping at the sides of Jisung’s hoodie like he didn’t know where else to anchor himself. Jisung kissed hard, deep, one hand cradling his jaw while the other found its way under the hoodie again, warm fingers skating across Chenle’s waist like they just belonged there.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and Chenle made a sound in his throat, surprised and wrecked, that only made Jisung smirk against his lips.

“You’re not flustered, huh?” he murmured, lips brushing his as he spoke.

“Shut up,” Chenle breathed.

Jisung grinned and dove in again, capturing his mouth with bruising intensity. His grip on Chenle’s waist tightened, yanking him forward until their hips bumped. Chenle gasped, fingers fisting the front of Jisung’s hoodie in a silent plea, and god, that size difference really wasn’t helping. Jisung was bigger, broader, and he knew exactly how to use it, pressing Chenle back into the desk like he was made to take up all the space.

It was driving Chenle insane.

Jisung kissed him again, slower this time, drawing it out, savoring the drag of their lips, the hitch in Chenle’s breath, the way his lashes fluttered when Jisung licked into his mouth.

Chenle was failing miserably. “You always kiss like this?” he managed between gasps.

Jisung smiled into the next kiss, “Only when someone says please that desperately.”

Chenle would’ve hit him if he wasn’t so dizzy.

Instead, he surged up, kissing back with more urgency, trying to reclaim the rhythm but Jisung didn’t let him. He took control again immediately, hands moving to cup the back of Chenle’s thighs and suddenly lift him onto the edge of the desk. Chenle inhaled sharply as he was set down, legs spreading instinctively to accommodate the new position, hoodie riding up dangerously high.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, flushed and breathless.

Jisung stepped between his knees, “Still not nervous?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m-” Chenle cut himself off when Jisung leaned down and kissed his neck, “Shit.”

Jisung didn’t hold back, lips dragging along the column of his throat, tongue tracing the sensitive skin just under his jaw before sinking his teeth in gently. Chenle’s hands clutched his shoulders now, anchoring himself as Jisung mouthed down to his collarbone, dragging the hoodie aside to nip at the skin there too.

Jisung laughed softly, breath warm against his skin, “Say please again.”

“Fuck off.”

“Say it.”

Chenle grabbed his face, dragging him into another kiss like he was punishing him. But he was smiling now too, in spite of himself, drunk on adrenaline and proximity and the way Jisung’s hand was splayed across his thigh like it belonged there.

They kissed like it was a fight. Fast and hungry and so, so messy. At one point, Jisung pushed the hoodie halfway up his chest just to feel more skin. At another, Chenle tangled both hands in Jisung’s hair and tugged just to hear the low groan he got in return. Neither of them could stop.

Jisung’s thumb brushed over his ribs. “You’re warm.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You sound like you like it.”

Chenle pulled back slightly, lips swollen, breathing fast, “You’re gonna ruin me.”

Jisung leaned in, forehead pressed to his, voice low and lethal, “That’s the idea.”

Then he kissed him again, harder than before, if that was even possible and Chenle practically melted into it, mouth opening with a sigh, spine arching off the desk as he pulled Jisung impossibly closer. They kissed like gravity didn’t exist. Like their mouths were the only things holding the world together.

Chenle had kissed a lot of people before. Enough to brag and to know how it worked, how to tease, how to hold eye contact without breaking first, how to pull away just slightly and make someone want to chase. He knew how to take the lead and he knew how to keep it.

Which is why this felt like losing.

Jisung had him pressed against the desk again. Chenle wanted to take it slow, to be clever, to control the rhythm, but his brain was swimming and every time Jisung leaned in, his body just gave in without a fight.

“You trying to hold back?” jisung whispered against Chenle’s cheek, breath warm, hand dragging over his exposed waist.

“I’m not-” Chenle gasped when fingers slid under the band of his shorts, “I’m not holding anything back.”

“No?” Jisung’s lips curled, “Then why are you so tense?”

“I’m not tense.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m not-fuck-”

One kiss shut him up. Jisung kissed him hard, kissed him like he was punishing him for lying. Chenle moaned into it, hips twitching forward, thighs tightening around Jisung’s waist before he could even pretend otherwise. His hands had fisted the fabric of Jisung’s hoodie again. 

“You gonna let me take this off?” Jisung murmured, tugging at the hem of Chenle’s hoodie.

“Y-yeah.”

Chenle lifted his arms without thinking, and Jisung peeled the hoodie off him slowly, letting his palms drag along bare skin like he wanted Chenle to feel it. The sudden chill of the apartment brushed his chest, but then Jisung’s mouth was back on his neck, down his collarbone, kissing and biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks behind.

Chenle let out a sharp gasp, head tipping back.

“You’re really not good at hiding it,” Jisung muttered, licking the spot he’d just bitten.

“Hiding what?” Chenle breathed.

“That you like being touched like this.”

Chenle’s fingers curled around the edge of the desk, “I can touch you like this too.”

Jisung huffed a low laugh, straightening just enough to look him in the eye, “Is that a challenge?”

Chenle tried to smirk, but it came out breathless, “Might be.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Chenle reached for him, a little desperate now, a little high on the way his body buzzed with sensation. His hands tugged Jisung’s hoodie up, fingers trailing over the warm skin underneath and then Jisung’s hand caught his wrist mid-motion.

“You really think you’re the one running this?” he said, voice low and steady.

“I’m trying,” Chenle whispered.

Jisung leaned down, lips brushing his ear, “You’re the one getting wrecked by every touch. That doesn’t scream top energy.”

Chenle’s cheeks flushed hot, “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

He kissed him again, slower now, deliberate. Chenle tried to keep up, but his head felt too foggy, too full of heat. He moaned when Jisung’s hand cupped his chest, thumb brushing his nipple. The sound escaped before he could even think of swallowing it back.

“You really like that?” Jisung asked, watching him.

Chenle nodded once, too honest, too fast.

The smirk that earned him made his stomach flip, “Then let me see how much.”

The desk was too hard, too small, too awkward to move the way Chenle wanted, so Jisung helped him down, hands steady, mouth still on him and maneuvered him to the bed with infuriating ease. Chenle’s legs wobbled on the walk, and he hated that Jisung noticed, because the taller boy was grinning when he pushed Chenle onto the mattress.

Chenle tried to prop himself up, elbows behind him, eyes blazing, “Don’t get cocky.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Jisung said, climbing over him, one knee between Chenle’s thighs, “You’re the one breathing like this.”

He leaned down, kissing Chenle again but this time, his hips rolled forward. Chenle’s back arched. Their cocks brushed through their boxers, too light, too brief, but enough to make him whine.

He’d never made that sound before.

Jisung froze at the sound, just for a second. Then he kissed him again, deeper now, hand sliding down to Chenle’s hip, grinding their bodies together in one slow, filthy stroke. Chenle clutched at his shoulders, panting into his mouth.

“You’re… awful,” he breathed.

“You’re into it.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re hard.”

Chenle groaned, biting at his shoulder in revenge, which only made Jisung laugh, genuine and breathy and hot as hell. Jisung kissed down his chest again, dragging fingers beneath the waistband of Chenle’s boxers, tugging just enough to make him gasp. “I could keep teasing you,” he said, voice dark, “But I wanna hear you beg again.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Jisung slid his hand lower. Chenle’s hips bucked.

“What was that?” Jisung asked, grinning.

“F-fuck you.”

“I will fuck you, Lele. Have some patience.”

He finally slipped his hand inside, low, confident and Chenle choked on a moan, body jolting at the contact. Jisung stroked him, fingers curling just right, watching the way Chenle’s mouth fell open, breath hitching with every pass.

“Still wanna be in charge?” Jisung whispered, biting his ear.

Chenle shook his head wildly, body trembling.

“What was that?”

“No. No, just, fuck, don’t stop.”

Jisung kissed his temple, his jaw, and his lips again. “See?” he murmured, “You’re perfect like this. A little desperate. A little wrecked.”

Chenle clung to him now, thighs spread, hips rolling into every stroke of Jisung’s. His back arched off the bed with every flick of Jisung’s wrist, every shift of his grip. “Gonna cum… Fuck, Jisung-”

“Let go,” Jisung said, voice thick. 

Chenle came hard, body jerking, breath shattering in his throat. He gasped through it, legs tightening around Jisung’s waist, hands scrabbling at his back like he needed something to hold onto or else he’d float off entirely.

When he collapsed back onto the mattress, chest heaving, Jisung leaned down and kissed him again, soft this time.

Chenle’s lips parted automatically, still warm and tingling, his body lax in the aftermath of being teased half to death. The kiss was almost too gentle compared to everything that came before, a slow drag of mouth over mouth, like Jisung was savoring something he’d earned.

“You really let me ruin you that easily?” Jisung murmured when he pulled back, just enough to speak against his lips, “Didn’t even put up a good fight.”

Chenle exhaled shakily, trying to turn his face away, but Jisung caught his jaw in one hand, firm and slow, tilting his head back.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, “You are doing so well for someone trying so hard not to be submissive.”

Chenle glared, but the flush across his chest and neck made it less effective. His mouth was red from kissing, and he was still trembling slightly, Jisung could feel it under his hand. Every muscle was wired and buzzing.

“You don’t get to be embarrassed after moaning like that,” Jisung added, letting his thumb brush along Chenle’s bottom lip again, “You should’ve heard yourself.”

“Shut up,” Chenle breathed, and it wasn’t even sharp, it came out all soft and humiliated, and that only made Jisung smile.

“Oh, baby . ” Jisung leaned closer again, dragging his mouth along his jaw, his voice dropping as his hand slid down Chenle’s chest, “You're lucky I like when you talk back.”

He dipped lower, fingers trailing down his stomach, over the edge of his waistband. Chenle sucked in a breath, fingers tightening against the sheets again.

Jisung settled between his legs, pushing them open with lazy pressure, “Still pretending you’re not into this?” he asked.

Chenle didn’t answer and instead just stared back at Jisung who asked him where the lube was kept, and after being signalled the answer had managed to get it quickly and was now forcing a generous amount of it onto his fingers.

“I could make you come like this again,” Jisung said, “Without even touching your cock. That’s what you want? Want to fall apart on my fingers like you’re made for it?”

Chenle whimpered, which was all the answer Jisung needed.

He dragged his hand lower again near the older boy’s hole.

“Relax,” Jisung said, low and wicked, fingers stroking slow circles at his inner thigh now, keeping him right at the edge, “You were begging earlier. Don’t act like you’re not already there again.”

“Jisung-”

“Mhm?” Jisung hummed, kissing his way down as his fingers pressed further in, “You gonna tell me how badly you want it?”

Chenle was panting again. His face was flushed, his hair stuck to his forehead, and when Jisung finally slipped a finger in, slow and firm, Chenle choked on a breath that barely made it out.

“Oh fuck-” he gasped, head tipping back into the pillows.

Jisung grinned and added another, curling his fingers just right, watching Chenle fall apart without even needing to be touched elsewhere.

“There we go,” Jisung whispered, leaning up to kiss him again, fingers still working slow and deep. “You feel that? That’s what happens when you stop pretending you’ve got the upper hand.”

Chenle whimpered against his mouth, gripping his wrist like he didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him in harder.

“You’re taking it so well, sweetheart,” Jisung whispered, breathing hot against his ear. “All open and desperate for me now. So good for me. So easy.”

Chenle couldn’t hold back the moan that spilled out, broken and loud, when Jisung’s fingers curled just right again. His hips jerked up before he could stop himself, and his hand flew to cover his mouth too late.

Jisung stilled, fingers still buried deep, and looked up at him with a slow, wicked smile. “You really can’t stay quiet, can you? The neighbours will file a complaint baby, you gotta tone it down a little.”

Chenle whined behind his palm.

“God,” Jisung muttered, dragging his hand slowly over Chenle’s trembling thigh., “You’re such a mess already. So loud. So easy.” He leaned closer, lips brushing against the inside of Chenle’s knee, “Making those pretty little sounds like you want everyone to hear how desperate you are.”

Chenle shook his head, breath catching. “I’m not-”

“You are.” Jisung pushed in his fingers just a little deeper, watching the way Chenle’s back arched. “You keep proving it.”

Another choked cry slipped out, high and soft, and Jisung sat up with a low laugh. Chenle whimpered, fists tightening in the sheets.

“I should stuff that mouth before the neighbors complain,” Jisung whispered, dragging his other hand’s fingers while the other continued to scissor in Chenle’s hole, “Think you’d stay quiet then?”

Before Chenle could respond, Jisung brought the fingers up, tracing them over his lips. Chenle’s breath stuttered.

Jisung smiled, “Open.”

Chenle hesitated, then obeyed, lips parting, letting Jisung slide his fingers between them. He sucked them in without thinking, jaw falling slack as the taste hit him, the heat spiraling fast in his chest.

“Yeah,” Jisung whispered, watching him fall apart again, “That’s better.”

Chenle whined around his fingers, breath shallow, face bright red.

“Keep those in,” Jisung said, voice low and calm, “And mayb I’ll be able to fuck you without waking the whole building.”

Chenle moaned around his fingers, half-crazed now, body twitching with every slow movement below.

“Look at you,” Jisung muttered, dragging his mouth back over Chenle’s throat. “Can’t even keep still. Such a pretty little whore for me.”

Chenle squeezed his eyes shut, sucking harder on Jisung’s fingers like it would help ground him, but it didn’t, not with Jisung pressing in deep again, slow and devastating, not with his breath warm at his ear and his voice curling low and dark.

Chenle was trembling, slick and desperate under Jisung’s hands, and it only made him want to push harder. His fingers moved slowly, then deep, twisting just enough to draw another high, broken moan from Chenle’s throat. He tried to bite it back, muffled by the fingers still shoved between his lips, but it didn’t help.

“You hear yourself?” Jisung muttered, low and cruel, “You sound pathetic.”

Chenle whined, red-faced, body arching again. He tried to speak, but his mouth was full and Jisung wasn’t done with him.

“You begged for this, remember?” Jisung whispered against his jaw, “Acting like you could handle it. Acting like you weren’t already fucked out before I even started.”

He pulled his fingers free from Chenle’s mouth, watching the spit stretch between his lips. “Go on,” he said, tone sharp now, “Tell me what you want.”

“Please-” Chenle gasped, eyes glassy, “I need-I need to come-”

“You need to?” Jisung smirked. “God, you’re so fucking needy. I can’t believe you’re crying already.”

Chenle squirmed, flushed deep, hips grinding down into the mattress like he couldn’t help it.

“Look at you,” Jisung murmured, “So wrecked. So easy. You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”

Chenle shook his head, but it was weak. Everything about him was unraveling.

Jisung slipped his fingers back, “You don’t even know how good you look like this. Teary, loud, dripping-”

“Please , ” Chenle sobbed, “Please, I-can’t-Jisung, I-”

“You can.” Jisung leaned down, dragging the pad of his thumb under Chenle’s eye, wiping away the wetness there, “You like this too much. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

He pushed his fingers back into Chenle’s mouth before the next moan could escape, holding him there, lips stretched wide and panting around them. “There,” Jisung said softly. “Be good. Shut up.”

Chenle whimpered, sucking on them mindlessly, his entire body twitching as Jisung’s other hand curled again inside him, just right.

“You’re gonna come like this?” Jisung asked, low and mean now, “Crying like a little thing that can’t take it?”

Chenle didn’t answer, his whole body tightening, hips stuttering, tears rolling free now.

“Go ahead,” Jisung whispered. “Be a mess.”

And Chenle came hard, legs shaking, voice wrecked and smothered behind Jisung’s fingers, sobbing through the comedown as Jisung whispered filth into his ear.

“Fuck,” Jisung muttered, watching him fall apart. “That’s it. I am still not done with you, baby.”

Chenle barely had time to breathe before Jisung flipped him over, pressing a palm between his shoulder blades until his chest met the mattress.

The pillow beneath him smelled like clean laundry, but it was already damp from his own sweat and it wasn’t long before his cheek dragged across the fabric, spit smearing where his lips had parted with another broken sound, “Jisung-”

Jisung leaned over him, one hand braced beside his head, the other gripping his hip so hard it left marks, “Breathe.”

Chenle tried. His chest rose and fell too fast, hips instinctively pushing back until Jisung’s hand tightened in warning.

“You don’t get to move unless I say,” Jisung said, calmly, “Understand?”

Chenle nodded, face buried in the pillow.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

Jisung leaned down. “God, listen to yourself. All breathless and ruined already.”

Chenle gasped when Jisung pressed against him from behind, slow and deliberate, just enough pressure to make him whine and go slack again.

“You feel that?” Jisung whispered, voice rough now, “That’s how hard you make me. Just from hearing you cry.”

Chenle’s fingers fisted the bedsheets.

“You gonna take it?” Jisung asked, dragging the blunt edge of his teeth across his shoulder blade, “Let me make you drool on this pillow while you fall apart on me?”

Chenle whimpered as his thighs trembled.

“What’s that?” Jisung’s tone sharpened. “Don’t go quiet on me now.”

“Yes-” The word came out muffled, “Please, I-Jisung, please-”

The pillow caught his moan as Jisung rocked against him again, teasing, tormenting. It was humiliating how much Chenle loved it, the pressure, the weight, the heat of being manhandled and pinned like this. He was leaking against the sheets, slick and sobbing and too far gone to pretend anymore.

“You’re such a fucking mess,” Jisung breathed, pushing his hips flush to Chenle’s ass and grinding there, slow and filthy, “Look at you. Drooling all over the pillow. Crying for it.”

Chenle couldn’t look. He couldn’t even lift his head.

His hair was sticking to his forehead, spit soaking the pillow, thighs quivering as Jisung rolled his hips again, not in, not yet, just enough to make him sob in frustration.

“Say you want it,” Jisung murmured.

Chenle blinked through wet lashes, “I-want it. Please, I want you.”

“How bad?”

“So bad-I’ll be good, I swear-just please.”

Jisung kissed the back of his neck once, tender in contrast to everything else. Then he reached for the bottle he’d left nearby, the sound of the cap snapping open loud in the quiet room.

Chenle bit the pillow.

Jisung’s hands were back on him in seconds, spreading him open, slicking him up, fingers dragging down and pressing in again just to make him writhe and cry.

“You’re ready,” he whispered, more to himself than anything. “Stay just like this,” he said as he lined himself up, voice low and shaking now. 

Chenle whimpered as he felt the pressure, real and undeniable and let himself fall forward again, face pressed deep into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets like prayer.

He barely heard the last words before the world tilted and Jisung finally pushed his cock inside his hole. The rhythm was steady at first, enough to let Chenle catch his breath until it wasn’t.

Jisung shifted his angle, tightened his grip on Chenle’s hips, and drove in deeper. Every thrust knocked a sound loose from Chenle’s throat, a half-moaned gasp he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he bit down on the pillow. He was a mess, sweaty and flushed and trembling, his body arching into each motion like he was chasing it.

Jisung leaned over him, skin hot against his back, chest rising and falling as he fucked into him with ruthless precision. His breath came fast, ragged against Chenle’s shoulder, and every now and then he’d mutter something, low, filthy things, like he couldn’t help himself.

“So good like this,” Jisung groaned, “Letting me use you like this. You love it.”

Chenle nodded desperately, too far gone to argue. He sobbed, back arching. He wanted to answer, wanted to beg but he just didn’t know what for anymore. Everything inside him was burning, tight, unbearable. His thighs shook with every thrust, and the slick sounds of their bodies moving together filled the room, obscene and wet and dizzying.

Then Jisung’s hand snuck under him, wrapped around his cock at last and Chenle screamed, the sound raw and high and completely broken.

Jisung didn’t let up. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, mouthing down his spine, “Let go for me. Be good.”

Chenle cried out again, body jerking, overwhelmed and undone. He came with a wrecked sob, hips twitching under Jisung’s weight, vision white-hot as everything inside him unraveled all at once.

But Jisung didn’t stop. He kept moving, slow but relentless now, dragging every sound out of him until Chenle was trembling, overstimulated, moaning into the mattress like a prayer. His hands fisted the sheets; his voice cracked again and again, each breath a desperate attempt to ground himself.

“Can’t-” Chenle whimpered.

“You can,” Jisung groaned, “You’re taking it so well, baby. So fucking good for me.”

He slid an arm under Chenle’s waist, pulling him up just slightly, adjusting the angle and Chenle shattered, again, helpless to stop it, whole body giving out as Jisung fucked him through it with brutal precision.

Jisung just held him tighter and kept going, chasing his own release now, mouth pressed to the space behind Chenle’s ear.

“You feel that?” he breathed, “So deep inside you. Like you’re mine.”

Jisung groaned deep in his throat and thrust hard, once, twice more, before he finally buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, breathless sound against Chenle’s neck.

For a long moment, there was nothing but panting and sweat and the soft creak of the bed. Chenle was limp beneath him, boneless, chest heaving. He couldn’t move if he tried.

Jisung didn’t say anything. He just kissed the back of Chenle’s shoulder and brushed damp hair out of his face, slow and steady like he wasn’t still trembling too. Chenle lay sprawled across his chest, face pressed against the curve of his collarbone, breathing slowly but shallowly, like his lungs were still trying to catch up.

He wasn’t saying much. His legs were tangled with Jisung’s, one arm draped across his ribs like he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up properly anymore. His hair was sticking to his forehead, lips parted, eyelids heavy.

Jisung had one hand tracing up and down his back, fingers brushing along his spine, warm and steady. The other was buried in Chenle’s hair, smoothing it back absently, like it was second nature. 

Chenle shifted slightly, groaning into Jisung’s skin. His voice was raw, “My legs don’t work.”

Jisung smiled, lazy and smug, fingers curling into the nape of Chenle’s neck, “That bad, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Didn’t seem like you were complaining thirty minutes ago.”

Chenle lifted his head enough to glare, but it was weak, a pout more than anything. “You talk too much.”

“And you were screaming , Lele.”

Chenle flushed immediately and shoved his face back into Jisung’s chest, “Shut up.”

Jisung laughed, soft and low, chest vibrating under Chenle’s cheek, “I’m not teasing. You sounded hot.”

A beat passed. Chenle muttered something into his skin that sounded vaguely like you’re the worst, but he didn’t move or pull away. If anything, he curled in closer.

Jisung felt it, the way Chenle’s body softened against him completely, like whatever tension he might’ve carried had melted somewhere. 

“You okay?” Jisung asked, quieter now, his fingers never stopping their slow path along Chenle’s spine.

Chenle nodded. “Mhm. Just…”

“Just?”

“Exhausted..”

Jisung kissed the top of his head, breathing him in, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence followed. This one felt different, not fragile, but full. Weighted with something warm and slow and sticky in the chest. Chenle was so warm against him, skin flushed and dewy, breathing even now. His thighs were still trembling faintly every few seconds, and it made Jisung grin against his temple.

“You’re sleeping here,” Chenle mumbled.

“You think I can move?”

“No.”

“Then yeah, I figured.”

Chenle reached blindly for the sheet, tugging it over them with zero coordination. It ended up half across his shoulder, bunched at their waists. Neither of them cared.

And Jisung didn’t press. He just pulled him in tighter and let them fall quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt full instead of empty.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆

If someone had told Chenle a month ago that he’d be sitting on Jeno’s rug, half-curled into Jisung’s side while trying to defend his sex life from prying best friends, he’d have laughed at them.

And yet, here he was, watching Jaemin and Jeno pretend to be subtle with all the grace of a car crash.

“So…” Jaemin began, voice stretched out like he was trying to sound bored, “You guys are, like, together now?”

Chenle rolled his eyes, “You’ve asked that three times.”

“Yeah, and your answer’s still too vague,” Jeno added, leaning forward, “What does ‘seeing where it goes’ even mean?”

“It means,” Jisung said flatly, “it’s none of your business.”

Jeno held up both hands, “Okay, but we’re your friends. Best friends. We’re just… invested in your emotional journey.”

“You sound like a therapist who’s overstepping,” Chenle said, popping a grape into his mouth.

Jaemin cocked his head, “So you’re saying there’s an emotional journey. Good to know.”

Jisung groaned, “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet, ” Jaemin said, raising his brows, “here you are, leaning into Chenle like you’re not trying to crawl into his hoodie.”

“I’m cold,” Jisung muttered, even though he was wearing two layers.

Chenle kicked his ankle, “You could just say you like me.”

“I’d rather die.”

Jeno looked between them like he was watching a rom-com unravel in real time, “Okay. So you’re dating. Are you dating?”

Chenle hesitated for a half-second, just enough to make Jisung glance at him before he said, “Yes.”

Jisung added, “Testing the waters. Not rushing.”

Jaemin gasped dramatically, “So domestic. So stable. I might cry.”

“Please don’t,” Chenle muttered.

Jaemin smirked, “Now the real question.”

“Oh god,” Jisung said.

Jeno tried to cut in smoothly, “So like, is the vibe different now that you’ve, uh… you know.”

“We don’t know,” Chenle said, “You sound like a boomer.”

“I’m saying-”

Jaemin interrupted, eyes gleaming, “Have you guys fucked yet?”

Jeno immediately turned pink, “Jaemin!”

Chenle stared at him, deadpan, “You’re not even trying to hide it anymore.”

“What?” Jaemin said, wide-eyed, “It’s a natural question!”

“It’s none of your business,” Jisung said again, though he didn’t seem particularly offended, just tired.

Chenle sighed, “God, fine, yes. Happy?”

Jaemin let out the most obnoxious gasp imaginable, “OH MY GOD .”

“Now you’re being dramatic,” Jeno muttered, hiding behind his drink.

“I knew something had changed,” Jaemin said, shaking Jeno by the shoulder. “I could feel it. The post-coital glow.”

“Please shut up forever,” Chenle said, face in his hands.

Jaemin sat forward, “So… who topped?”

Jisung immediately muffled his face in hands, “No.”

Jeno coughed, “I mean… it’s not like we need to know…”

“Then don’t ask,” Jisung said calmly.

But Jaemin wasn’t letting it go, “Come on. We’re all adults here. It’s a simple question.”

“It’s not simple,” Chenle hissed, “It’s invasive.”

“I’m just trying to settle a theory,” Jaemin said innocently.

“A theory?” Jeno echoed, confused, then immediately caught himself, “Wait. Jaemin-”

But Jaemin was already grinning, “I’m just saying, quiet guys usually have that hidden top vibe.”

“Stop psychoanalyzing us,” Jisung said.

“Why?” Jaemin said, all sugar, “Am I wrong?”

Jeno jumped in. “I mean… Chenle does talk a big game often. So maybe your theory isn’t co-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Chenle said, glaring.

They tried three more times from subtle comments about body language, to a fake joke quiz about sexual preferences, to a literal diagram Jaemin started sketching on a napkin (“You’re insane,” Jisung told him flatly) before Chenle finally snapped.

“Oh my god,” he shouted. “It was Jisung. He topped. There. Are you happy?”

The silence was immediate. Then Jaemin jumped to his feet with the glee of a man winning the lottery.

“I KNEW IT! I CALLED IT! I TOLD YOU!” he yelled, pointing at Jeno with wild eyes, “PAY UP.”

“What?” Chenle said, horrified. “Pay up?”

Jeno groaned and pulled out his wallet, “You said you wouldn’t say anything!”

“You bet on us?” Chenle gaped.

Jisung raised a brow,“You literally placed a bet on our sex life?”

“Technically,” Jaemin said, waving the cash like a flag, “I bet on your dynamics.”

“Oh my god,” Chenle said again, now looking like he might explode, “That’s-You’re deranged!”

“Obsessive,” Jisung added.

“Unholy!”

Jaemin grinned, fanning himself with the cash, “Unholy and one hundred dollars richer.”

“You’re a menace,” Jisung muttered.

“We are never talking to you again,” Chenle declared.

“Oh, baby,” Jaemin cooed, “you will. I’ve seen you crawl back for worse.”

“You’re so lucky I’m too stunned to throw this plate at you.”

“You’d miss,” Jaemin said, winking.

And before either Chenle or Jisung could come up with a threat effective enough, Jaemin grabbed Jeno and practically dragged him toward the front door, shouting “VICTORY LAP” as they disappeared into the hallway.

The door slammed shut. Silence.

Chenle sat still for a moment, stunned. Then he turned to Jisung, eyes wide. “Did they just…?”

“They bet on us.”

Chenle buried his face in a cushion. “I’m going to die, right here. On Jeno’s stupid rug.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m traumatized.”

Jisung nudged his foot gently, “You’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

Chenle lifted his head and looked at him flushed, dazed, but definitely smiling now. “I mean,” he said softly, “we won something too.”

Jisung raised a brow, “What?”

Chenle tilted his head, “Each other, I guess.”

Jisung snorted, “You’re cheesier than I thought.”

“You love it.”

There was a pause. Then Jisung leaned in, pressed a brief, warm kiss to the corner of Chenle’s mouth, and murmured, “Yeah. I do.”

Chenle smiled, “Good. I was hoping we can be cheesy like this, forever.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💻ɞ˚‧｡⋆