[personal profile] maayacolabackup


Another day, another interview.

Chanyeol and Jongin are fighting again in the prep-room, probably over nothing but their naturally conflicting personalities, and Junmyeon is ignoring it because he’s used to it, maybe, but they’re in public and it’s unacceptable. Chanyeol’s got a genial smile on his face, but Jongin is scowling because he can’t hide his feelings to save his life.

“Stop,” he says, low and cool and demanding, and Chanyeol immediately quiets, looking up at Wu Fan for further directions. Wu Fan realizes, all of the sudden, that it’s the same voice he uses with Chanyeol in bed, and that Chanyeol is reacting to it like that now; like Wu Fan is in charge and Chanyeol’s supposed to do what he says because that’s how they are.

Jongin looks at Chanyeol incredulously. “Are you serious? One word and you’re heeling like a bad dog?”

Chanyeol flinches, happy mask cracking for a moment until he manages to plaster it back on, and Chanyeol has enough issues with wanting what he wants without other people him making him feel bad about it, even unknowingly. Wu Fan pushes down the arousal that shoots through him at the way Chanyeol responds to him, because now isn’t the time, and focuses on the current situation.

“Shut up,” Wu Fan hisses, and Jongin looks up at him sheepishly, backing down. Wu Fan’s not the sort to raise his voice, but Chanyeol looks so anxious that his smile is slipping, and Wu Fan hasn’t seen it slip like that in public sense SMArt, when the flashes from cameras stung his sensitive eyes.

Wu Fan had taken things into his own hands then, guiding Chanyeol around here and there and making sure at least their people turned the flashes off. He does the same thing now, but he resists the urge to pull Chanyeol into his arms because he knows, no matter how right it feels, it’s not something he can act on when they’re under scrutiny like this.

“Sorry,” Jongin mumbles, and Sehun laughs at him, and then they’re fighting or flirting or whatever it is they do, Zitao playing peacemaker as Wu Fan looks into Chanyeol’s eyes.

“Hey,” Wu Fan says, “it’s alright.”

“It’s weird,” Chanyeol says “I know it’s weird, and that other people will think it’s weird, but-“

“I like it,” Wu Fan says, leaning over so only Chanyeol can hear him. Chanyeol shivers at the brush of Wu Fan’s lips. “I like it so much.” He wishes he could kiss him. “You have no idea.”

Chanyeol is much more relaxed when Wu Fan pulls away, closing his eyes and thinking about unattractive things, like Eunhyuk dressed up as Beyonce, to cool the heat in his veins.

The interview is long, and when it’s over, Chanyeol’s back to his usual self, bouncing along cheerfully beside him, and Wu Fan doesn’t steal a kiss, no matter how bad he wants to.


Wu Fan’s not sure where the line is, between best friends and lovers.

He knows the things that are past the line; things like sliding his hands down Chanyeol’s bare back and further, until Chanyeol’s pressing his ass back into Wu Fan’s palms, face flushed and lips parted as Wu Fan kisses and nips at the underside of his jaw. Things like Chanyeol lapping at Wu Fan’s stomach, then asking if it’s good with his eyes as he takes Wu Fan into his mouth and Wu Fan babbles promises to reward him.

Things like whispering ”I really like you,” in Mandarin, in English, in Cantonese, and Korean into the hollow of Chanyeol’s throat and wanting him to hear it, even though Chanyeol’s already asleep.

Wu Fan’s just not sure where, exactly, the line lies, or when he crossed it, only that he has, and as he laces his fingers together with a sleeping Chanyeol’s, he wishes he wasn’t leaving again for Guangzhou tomorrow.

Wu Fan thinks it’s kind of creepy how he wants to put Chanyeol on a leash, shorter than a meter, that Wu Fan never has to let go of. Going to China seems so daunting when he can’t drag Chanyeol, with his energetic smile and pliant, sleepy body, along for the trip. Or maybe what Wu Fan really wants is to pull Chanyeol inside of him and lock him in the cage made by Wu Fan’s ribs.

He thinks, almost disbelievingly, that Chanyeol would be happy there as he studies the bruises his mouth has left across Chanyeol’s chest like a brand.


Off-balance. That’s how Wu Fan’s felt for the past couple of days, thanks to familiar touches that summon unfamiliar feelings.

“Are you thinking about something deep?” Lu Han asks, pulling his pink tee over his head and flattening his hair quickly with his fingers. “You look like you’re thinking about something deep.”

“Kind of,” Wu Fan says, straightening the neck of his own t-shirt. It feels like mid-morning not mid-evening, but Wu Fan knows that’s because his body is set to KST and not LA time.

“We’re about to go on stage for the finale,” Lu Han says. “The concert’s not over yet.”

“Deep thoughts don’t always come when it’s convenient,” Wu Fan replies, and Lu Han smirks at him.

“Lu Han doesn’t know much about deep thoughts-“ Jongdae starts, but Lu Han elbows him in the gut before he finishes. Jongdae laughs anyway, and Wu Fan cracks a smile.

“Whatever it is,” Lu Han says, “I’m sure it’s actually not all that difficult and you’re overanalyzing it like you do everything.”

“Thanks, I think,” Wu Fan says wryly, and Changmin peeks his head in and barks at them to hurry up.

As balloons and confetti fall from the ceiling, Chanyeol grabs his hand. They walk side by side, and Wu Fan wonders if Lu Han is right; he wants to be close to Chanyeol, and perhaps that’s something simple.


The first thing Wu Fan thinks, as he wakes up in the morning, is that it’s too early to be awake. The second thing he thinks is that he’s got a plane flight to Guangzhou in less than seven hours, and Chanyeol is staying here in Korea.

They’re in Chanyeol’s room. Wu Fan had tried to leave last night, but Chanyeol had assured him that Baekhyun’d gone home to stay with his family for the rare two days in a row they had off, and Wu Fan hadn’t really put up much of a fight.

Now, as the early morning light sneaks in through curtained windows, Wu Fan can’t seem to fall back asleep. Chanyeol is completely out next to him, mouth open obnoxiously with the occasional snore punctuating the silence, and even now, he is making Wu Fan smile.

Wu Fan puts a single digit beneath Chanyeol’s chin and pushes up, closing his mouth, and Chanyeol sniffles and rolls onto his side, gravitating towards Wu Fan’s touch even in sleep. Wu Fan likes that.

He knows the moment Chanyeol starts to awaken, lips curling down at the edges and legs moving restless, and when Chanyeol opens his eyes, they’re both hazy and amused.

“Just because you’re my boyfriend, that doesn’t mean you get to wake me up,” Chanyeol says, and Wu Fan freezes, hand stopping its upward motion along the outside of Chanyeol’s arm at the words.

“Boyfriend?” Wu Fan asks, evaluating the weight of the word on his tongue, and Chanyeol’s eyes sharpen, suddenly completely awake.

“I…” Chanyeol’s speech hasn’t woken yet, it seems, and he stumbles over the words. “I’m sorry, I sort of assumed that-“

Wu Fan crashes his mouth down on Chanyeol’s, cutting him off, and Chanyeol makes an ”mmph” sound before he returns it, morning breath and all.

He can feel Chanyeol’s hardness against his hip. This is their last morning for a while. Wu Fan wants to take his time.

He sits up, and Chanyeol is unhappy at the loss of heat, or maybe at Wu Fan moving away at all, but Wu Fan has other plans, tugging on Chanyeol until he is lying on his belly, and Wu Fan can reach his back. He massages, slow, into Chanyeol’s shoulders, the way he’s learned Chanyeol likes.

Wu Fan wants to feel more of him.

Wu Fan pulls Chanyeol’s briefs down his slim legs, throwing them carelessly to the side. Chanyeol’s still on his stomach, and goosebumps rise across all the exposed skin. Wu Fan rubs his hands all the way up Chanyeol’s back, warming the skin with his palms, and Chanyeol quivers into the touch. “I want to try something,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and then he’s quiet, like he’s steeling himself. Wu Fan wonders if Chanyeol has a voice in his head that says ”this is Wu Fan, it’s okay” the same way Wu Fan has a voice in his head that says the reverse. “Okay.”

“Up,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol doesn’t move, and first, but then his pushes his weight onto his arms. Wu Fan lifts Chanyeol’s hips, and Chanyeol spreads his legs apart for balance as Wu Fan nips and kisses at the column of his back, curling his hands into fists and muffling deep whines with his pillow as Wu Fan mouths his way lower and lower. “Wu Fan,” Chanyeol says, as Wu Fan reaches the small of his back. He takes extra time there, tonguing the two dips there on either side of the end of his spine, and Chanyeol presses back toward Wu Fan’s touch, same as he always does, and it makes Wu Fan even harder.

Experimentally, he licks a little lower, and Chanyeol tenses, but doesn’t tell Wu Fan to stop. Wu Fan gives him a moment, then moves further down, past Chanyeol’s tailbone, letting his tongue slide down, between, and Chanyeol gives him a low, deep moan that sounds nothing like stop and everything like go.

Wu Fan had told Chanyeol, once, that he wanted to kiss him all over, and that’s still true, he thinks, as he pulls his hands down from Chanyeol’s hips to grab at his ass, to open Chanyeol up to his mouth. His tongue ventures out tentatively at first, licking a slow circle around the wrinkled skin he’s found there, and the way Chanyeol shudders in his grip is enough to make his next lick a little harder; a little more forceful as he teases around the hole, curling his tongue to lap in circles around it. Chanyeol pushes back against him, and Wu Fan loves the shake of Chanyeol in front of him, Chanyeol’s cock hard against his belly as he moans into a pillow so whoever else is home won’t hear.

“What-“ Chanyeol manages to gasp, and Wu Fan laughs, spreading Chanyeol even more open with his hands, “are you even doing?”

He’s only read about this on the internet, but he wants to do it right. He’s sure Chanyeol’s read about it too, although probably through much more vulgar sources, and the fact that Chanyeol’s tone sounds more curious than confused lets Wu Fan know he can continue.

“Kissing you,” Wu Fan says, and then he’s pushing in, gathering spit in his mouth so he can make it wetter, and Chanyeol almost sobs as Wu Fan slides a finger in beside his tongue, licking and sucking as Chanyeol writhes beneath him.

Then Wu Fan is sliding in another finger, and hooking down, stretching Chanyeol apart to make more room for Wu Fan to lick deeper into him, and Chanyeol is jerking his hips back into it, begging for more without coherence as Wu Fan finds his prostate and pushes into it relentlessly until Chanyeol is having trouble holding himself up.

He’s beautiful like this, Wu Fan thinks, unraveling beneath Wu Fan’s fingers and tongue, and Wu Fan thinks he could come like this, just listening to the wrecked sounds coming from Chanyeol’s mouth and feeling the sheen of sweat on Chanyeol’s skin as he works his mouth against him.

“Wu…Fan…” Chanyeol says, and Wu Fan pulls away, rolling Chanyeol onto his back, because Wu Fan is greedy and he wants to see Chanyeol’s face as he fucks him, two fingers deep.

A deep red flush extends all the way down Chanyeol’s neck and across his chest, and his lips are swollen from kisses and maybe from trying to subdue his own noises, and his eyes are wet and bright, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at Wu Fan.

Please,” Chanyeol says, and his long legs are in the way so Wu Fan pushes them up. Chanyeol obligingly holds the back of his thighs, fingers gripping too hard into his own skin, and then Wu Fan is slipping his fingers back inside, and Chanyeol releases a low keening sound as Wu Fan thrusts in past his knuckle, Chanyeol’s body taking him in so willing and so easy. “More.”

Wu Fan starts to add a third finger, but it’s too dry, so he gathers the spit in his mouth and presses his lips back to Chanyeol’s entrance, lingering around the edges just because he likes the way Chanyeol tremors at it, and now it’s slick enough to push his ring finger into Chanyeol, too.

The sound Chanyeol makes when Wu Fan crooks his fingers up is enough to remind Wu Fan that he’s hard and that he’s still wearing his underwear, but this isn’t the time to worry about that; not when he’s got Chanyeol like this, in pieces, and Wu Fan’s the one in charge of making the final break and then putting him back together.

“I’m going to-“ Chanyeol says, and Wu Fan wraps his other hand around Chanyeol’s cock, thumb teasing the slit, and Chanyeol’s got tears in the corners of his eyes and his nose scrunched up and his mouth is open so wide, almost as wide as Wu Fan’s got him opened around his fingers.

“Come,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol does, body tensing and releasing around Wu Fan’s fingers as he spurts on his own stomach and Wu Fan’s forearm.

Chanyeol is a shivering, shuddering mess in front of him, looking at Wu Fan with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I-“

Wu Fan swallows, and now he remembers his own erection, heavy in his briefs, chafing against the elastic waistband. He licks his lips and tastes Chanyeol.

Then he’s tasting Chanyeol in a different way as Chanyeol tumbles into Wu Fan’s lap, thighs still trembling, and licks at Wu Fan’s face, cleaning it, and Wu Fan can’t help but thrust up against Chanyeol. Chanyeol hisses, still sensitive, and worms his hand in between them, slipping into Wu Fan’s underwear to curl around his erection. Wu Fan groans as Chanyeol strokes him quickly, practiced hands adjusting to the odd angle as Wu Fan bucks up into his grip, almost toppling his lap full of boyfriend, boyfriend, but Chanyeol is determined, sucking on Wu Fan’s tongue and rubbing across the head of Wu Fan’s cock until Wu Fan is spilling all over the outside of Chanyeol’s hand.

Wu Fan gasps into Chanyeol’s mouth, and they continue kissing, sloppy and wet, missing each other’s mouths and catching cheek and nose and chin.

Chanyeol’s kisses are needy, and Wu Fan knows it’s because he’s leaving, and it’ll be weeks before they can kiss again. Wu Fan won’t just miss the kisses. He’ll miss the warmth of Chanyeol curling into his side, hand linked with Wu Fan’s as they do the most mundane things, like watching games on television or play Angry Birds on Wu Fan’s iPhone, Chanyeol with his arms around Wu Fan’s waist, chest hot against Wu Fan’s back as he yells useless hints into Wu Fan’s ear.

It’s those things he’ll miss the most; that he’s always missed the most, and Wu Fan kisses Chanyeol back just as rough, trying to memorize the feel of him against his lips.

“I have to shower,” Wu Fan murmurs into the skin of Chanyeol’s jaw. “I have to go.”

“Miss your flight,” Chanyeol says, laughing. “Live on the wild side.”

“They’ll come looking for me,” Wu Fan says. “And they’ll find both of us like this.”

“Sometimes I think I wouldn’t care,” Chanyeol says wistfully, lifting Wu Fan’s hand up and putting it on his head. Wu Fan immediately starts tugging at it, shifting sticky fingers through the strands and enjoying Chanyeol’s soft, content sighs. “I love your hands.”

“I love you,” is on the tip of Wu Fan’s tongue, but now isn’t the time to say it. “I really have to go.”

“What if I don’t get up?” Chanyeol teases, and he’s still got morning breath, and Wu Fan laughs and shoves him back.

“You might be bigger than the rest of our band, Chanyeol, but you’re not bigger than me.” He’s got Chanyeol’s wrists in his hands, pressing them down to the bed, and Chanyeol is smiling at him as bright as the morning sun.

“I’ll miss you,” Chanyeol says, smile slipping just a little. “But I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll send you lots of e-mails,” Wu Fan says. “And stay logged on to kakao chat, okay?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and Wu Fan stands, climbing free of the tangle of his and Chanyeol’s legs. Chanyeol rolls over onto his side, away from Wu Fan, and Wu Fan can’t resist running his fingers along the soft of skin along Chanyeol’s thigh on last time. “See you later, Leader.”

“See you,” Wu Fan echoes, and shrugs on his jeans and a shirt—maybe it’s his or maybe it’s Chanyeol’s—and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

The living room is quiet, and Wu Fan wonders if anyone has noticed his shoes by the door.

“Time to go?” asks a light voice, and Wu Fan looks over to the sofa to see Baekhyun sitting there, arms crossed as he leans across the arm of the couch. Wu Fan freezes, one foot in his sneaker and the other still resting on the hardwood floor.

“You’re back,” Wu Fan says, and he knows he’s a mess, skin sticky with come and smelling of sex. His hair’s probably gross, too; he can feel the longer strands clinging to his neck with sweat. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until later.”

“I got back early,” Baekhyun says, eyes steady as he stands up. “Should I knock on that door before I go in?”

“I-“ Wu Fan gulps, and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Baekhyun-“

“I’m not going to say anything,” Baekhyun says. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Wu Fan snaps, and then he guiltily rubs at his hair. “Well, I am, but-“

“It’s okay,” Baekhyun says. “It’s weird to me, obviously, but it’s okay. I’m not going to judge you.”

Wu Fan hadn’t realized his heart had stopped beating until it starts again. “Baekhyun…”

“So should I knock on that door before I go in?” Baekhyun asks again, and now that Wu Fan is looking for it, he thinks he can see a tiny bit of a smirk at the corner of Baekhyun’s lips.

“Yeah,” Wu Fan says, catching his thumbs in his belt loops. “You probably should.”

“All right,” Baekhyun says. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah,” Wu Fan says. “I do.”

Wu Fan replays the conversation in his mind as he showers, washing the smell of Chanyeol from his skin and trying to remember to breathe.

He’d never really considered the other members finding out. He knows he should have, but he hadn’t, too caught up in the newness of everything between himself and Chanyeol.

But Baekhyun’s reaction feels like… well, like loosening the knot of your tie after a long day’s work. Maybe he feels a little bit freer.

There are no guarantees, but Wu Fan recalls Chanyeol’s mouth against his neck and he’s glad that, at least for now, Chanyeol is something solid and real that Wu Fan can pull back into his arms when he gets back from China, and that at least one of the ten people whose lives are entangled with theirs won’t mind when he does.


Later, as Wu Fan struts across the Incheon International Departures, wearing a perfectly ironed blazer and walking next to a still half-asleep Jongdae, his phone vibrates. When they get past the cameras to the relative safety of the boarding zone, Wu Fan pulls out the phone to see a text from Chanyeol.

Missing you already, it says, and then an emoticon of a cat.

Not much of a cat person, I’m afraid, Wu Fan texts back, and when he looks up, Zitao is looking at him carefully.

“You seem happy,” Zitao says, face soft and pleased, if a little inquisitive, and Wu Fan swallows, wondering if all the things that have changed are written on his outside as much as they’re written on his inside.

“I am,” Wu Fan says, and Zitao offers him a quiet, sincere smile, and Wu Fan smiles back.

I forgot my shampoo, Wu Fan texts, right before they get on the plane. Don’t use it all.


It’s small things that Wu Fan misses the most, when they’re apart.

Chanyeol doodling along the insides of Wu Fan’s inner arms with his short, square fingernail.

Chanyeol changing his ringtone to Two Moons so Wu Fan has to listen to himself rap until he answers the phone.

Chanyeol, drowsily folding himself into the hollows of Wu Fan’s body and fitting there perfectly.

Maybe it’s just one big thing. Chanyeol, with his soft hair and big stupid grin and floppy limbs that get in Wu Fan’s way when he’s trying to read. Chanyeol, with his wet mouth and pretty eyes and demanding pout. Chanyeol, who has, over the years, pushed his way into Wu Fan’s personal space and refused to leave.

Chanyeol, who makes Wu Fan feel like he’ll never be alone again.


He doesn’t mean to buy it. He sees it at an accessories shop, and apparently they’re in style for women right now, because there are so many colors to chose from. It’s not until he sees one in a dark brown leather that would look so pretty against the skin of Chanyeol’s neck that he’s buying it before he can think twice. It’s not until he gets out of the store that the bag starts to feel unbelievably heavy in his hand.

When he gets back to the hotel, he takes the collar out of the bag and stares at it, fingers the single metal ring at the center and the three holes that adjust the tightness, unsure if it’s the right thing. He thinks Chanyeol might like it, but he’s not certain.

It’s two days later that he finds the charm. It’s ostentatious and ridiculous, a giant glimmering K in a silver circle. Wu Fan chuckles as he buys is, already anticipating Chanyeol’s smartass comments about it, and again later as he threads it onto the metal ring in the center of the collar.

He doesn’t know if he’ll give it to Chanyeol or not, but the thought Chanyeol branded like that is enough to have Wu Fan jacking himself off in the shower until he comes, hard, resting his head against the cool shower wall as the images refuse to leave him.


Twelve people are hard to fit in one living room, but EXO always manages, somehow. It helps that they’re all so used to each other that cramming in together is no issue.

They talk and laugh long into the night, but Wu Fan just wants Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s sitting next to him on the couch, legs draped across Wu Fan’s thighs, and Wu Fan sneaks his hand up the ankle of Chanyeol’s tight jeans, teasing the skin until Chanyeol kicks him.

They peel off in ones and twos, until only Zitao, Chanyeol, and Wu Fan, and Baekhyun are left in the living room.

Wu Fan meets Baekhyun’s eyes across the room, and Baekhyun winks at him. “Show me your photos,” Baekhyun says to Zitao, and Wu Fan takes a deep breath as they leave.

“That was one of the most awkward hours of my life, by the way,” Chanyeol says, as he stands up and walks over to the door, slipping into his shoes. “You know, when my roommate came home early to find me covered in semen? Yeah, that was great.”

“So was me running into your roommate in the living room on my way out,” Wu Fan says dryly, and Chanyeol smiles.

“Well, at least we both had to suffer.” A silence. “It’s good that… it was okay. With him.”

“Yeah,” Wu Fan says, and he stands up too. “I’m going to get something,” Wu Fan says, making a split-second decision, quickly ducking into his room and careful not to make any noise or wake anyone as he grabs the small bag with the collar from the front pocket of his suitcase.

He joins Chanyeol at the door, not bothering to lace up his sneakers as they walk the short distance to K’s dorm.

As soon as Chanyeol is sure the living room is empty, he’s throwing his arms around Wu Fan’s neck and kissing him. Wu Fan walks them backwards, avoiding doors and furniture until they get to Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s room, Chanyeol grappling behind him for the doorknob as he refuses to separate from Wu Fan’s lips.

“I missed you,” Chanyeol whispers against the corner of Wu Fan’s mouth, and Wu Fan missed Chanyeol too.

Wu Fan drops the bag as Chanyeol strips. Wu Fan follows suit, pushing Chanyeol down onto the bed and climbing on top of him, nibbling across his chest, tonguing his nipples and working his way down, licking at the line of Chanyeol’s hipbone before taking Chanyeol’s cock into his mouth.

“Now I really missed you,” Chanyeol says, hips pushing up until Wu Fan holds them down, with a firm hand and a “stay,” taking Chanyeol in so far he hits the back of Wu Fan’s throat, tongue swirling around the shaft. Chanyeol swears, and Wu Fan chuckles, which has Chanyeol swearing again at the vibrations.

Two more laps at the slit and then Wu Fan lets Chanyeol fall from his mouth and sits back. Chanyeol is stretched out in front of him, splayed arms and legs spread to give Wu Fan complete access to every inch of him.

Chanyeol, naked, offering Wu Fan complete control.

Wu Fan gets up from the bed and grabs the bag he’d set by the door, and pulls out the collar. He hands it to Chanyeol, who receives it with wide eyes, biting down on his lower lip in concentration as his thumb takes in the texture of the soft leather. Then he examines the charm, Wu Fan’s last minute addition, and his lips quirk in amusement, mixing with something else that Wu Fan thinks could be anticipation.

“The ‘K’ is super tacky,” Chanyeol says, voice choked despite his attempt at levity. “But I guess I’ll get used to it.”

“You don’t have to,” Wu Fan assures him. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.”

“Put it on?” Chanyeol asks, and Wu Fan swallows around the lump in his throat and does. The leather looks just as good against Chanyeol’s skin as he’d thought it would. “I never thought anyone would-“

“I know,” Wu Fan says, and he can’t stop the thrill that courses through his whole body at Chanyeol sitting in front of him, wearing nothing but a collar with Wu Fan’s roman letter initial hanging from the center, sitting in the dip between his collar bones.

“Will you…” Chanyeol laughs, maybe at himself. “I kind of want you to…” Wu Fan pushes his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.

“Just ask,” Wu Fan says. “Hell, Chanyeol, I’ve put a collar on you; you can ask.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Chanyeol says, and Wu Fan’s hand pauses for a moment before he resumes his petting.

“You sure about that?” Wu Fan asks. Wu Fan peeks down, and Chanyeol’s still hard, and still a little slick from Wu Fan’s spit, and Wu Fan remembers that it’s been three weeks since he’s even been able to touch Chanyeol at all.

“I thought about this,” Chanyeol says. “I really want you to-“

“Yeah?” Wu Fan asks.

“I tried it again,” Chanyeol says, arm reaching into his bedside table drawer and pulling out a condom and a half empty bottle of lube. “Um, a few times, maybe. After you did… you know.”

Wu Fan imagines Chanyeol lying right here on his bed, thrusting his fingers in and out of himself and pretending it’s Wu Fan and… yes. Yes.

“Show me,” Wu Fan says. “Show me, Chanyeol.” Chanyeol scrambles to slick his fingers, pouring way too much lube onto his hand, and more gets on the sheets than on his fingers, and Wu Fan would laugh if Chanyeol wasn’t staring at him like that, like he’s waiting for Wu Fan to tell him it’s okay. “Stretch yourself.”

Chanyeol’s voice is even deeper than usual as he groans, spreading his legs as wide as he can, circling the tip of his finger around his entrance before pushing in. He winces, but then he’s pulling out and thrusting back in.

Wu Fan licks his lips as he watches. “You look so good like that,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol’s hips jerk. He gulps, and his adam’s apple pushes against the secured leather band. The ‘K’ is moving up and down with each of Chanyeol’s shallow breaths, and Wu Fan reaches down to touch himself, too. “One more finger, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol whines but complies, adding a second slicked digit. Wu Fan can see him curling them up, searching for something, and he knows when Chanyeol finds it by the ragged exhale Chanyeol releases. “Wu Fan,” Chanyeol says, cracking over his name, and Wu Fan pours lube onto his own fingers and leans forward to press a kiss to Chanyeol’s sweat-slick stomach. He opens his mouth on the spot and sucks, Chanyeol’s cock rubbing against the underside of his chin, and while Chanyeol is distracted, Wu Fan slides a finger in to join Chanyeol’s two.

“Let’s work together,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol’s hips lift, trying to bring their fingers in deeper or searching for friction. Wu Fan bites down on another piece of skin, leaving another bruise, and Chanyeol’s body greedily takes them both in.

Wu Fan withdraws his finger, and Chanyeol, whose eyes had fallen closed, opens them. “Now?” He asks, and Wu Fan nods, his hands surprisingly steady as he opens the package. The veins of Chanyeol’s neck are prominent and shining with sweat, and the leather looks so lovely against it.

He rolls the condom on, and wets it with the lube still all over his palm. “Relax,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol pulls his fingers out so Wu Fan can settle himself between Chanyeol’s slim thighs. Wu Fan settles them over his shoulders, and Chanyeol just looks up at him, waiting, eyes so trusting and wild with desire that Wu Fan has to fight himself to go slow.

Chanyeol’s body is even tighter and hotter than Wu Fan had imagined; tighter than it had felt around his fingers, and Wu Fan feels like every breath Chanyeol takes drags him in deeper.

Wu Fan stills when he’s in all the way, giving Chanyeol time to adjust, but Chanyeol doesn’t want it, moving his hips on his own, fucking himself on Wu Fan’s cock until Wu Fan’s at his breaking point. Wu Fan settles back on his heels, and grabs Chanyeol’s hips for leverage, and starts thrusting in earnest; long, torturously slow movements at first, then faster as he feels release creeping up on him quickly.

Chanyeol’s moans are more like hiccups as Wu Fan pounds into him, and his nails scrape along Wu Fan’s shoulders and arms, digging into the skin as he throws his head back. Wu Fan bends forward to lick along the edge of the collar, and circles Chanyeol with his index finger and thumb, jerking fast as his own orgasm approaches.

It is Wu Fan who comes first, shuddering inside of Chanyeol, and Chanyeol follows, the clench and release of his muscles squeezing around Wu Fan, dragging the pleasure out almost too long for Wu Fan to handle. He pulls out, shaking, and Chanyeol exhales noisily at the loss. Wu Fan ties the end of the condom, tossing into the overflowing trashcan by Chanyeol’s bed. “You’re such a mess.”

“You like me anyway,” Chanyeol says, pushing his lips out for a kiss. Wu Fan laughs and complies, hands wrapping around Chanyeol’s thighs to massage out the cramps, because he’d seen Chanyeol cringe when he’d lowered his legs.

Chanyeol’s mouth is something Wu Fan will never get tired of. Drawing back becomes more and more difficult every time Wu Fan dips in, because Chanyeol’s kisses are as warm and inviting as Chanyeol himself.

“So I like it,” Chanyeol says. “It’s like… I don’t know.”

“It’s just another type of marking,” Wu Fan says. “Pets wear collars, and while you aren’t exactly-“

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “So I like it.”

“Good,” Wu Fan says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted…”

“I do,” Chanyeol says. “I wish I could wear it all the time.” He rests his hand over the leather, and then drops down to the charm. “But…”

Chanyeol pushes Wu Fan back and sits up, groaning as he does. “Are you-“

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol says. “Just… my muscles aren’t used to doing that. Kind of like when we started dancing.”

“You’re even worse at that than I am,” Wu Fan says, and Chanyeol isn’t offended—they’ve had the same exchange before, and Chanyeol knows it’s true. “What are you doing?”

“I have an idea,” Chanyeol says, and lifts his chin, gesturing for Wu Fan to take off the collar. Wu Fan does, carefully, and Chanyeol sighs, bereft, when it falls from around his neck and into Wu Fan’s waiting hand.


Chanyeol gingerly picks the collar up from Wu Fan’s palm, takes the charm off the collar, and pads, nude, over to where he keeps his jewelry. He pulls a long silver chain from one of the boxes on his desk, sliding the ‘K’ onto the chain and fastening it around his neck.

“Problem solved,” Chanyeol says, with a small hopeful smile. “People will just think…”

“EXO-K,” Wu Fan says, and the charm is still pretty, hanging low on Chanyeol’s chest, between his pectoral muscles. It’s the closest Wu Fan can get, for now, to warning people away from what’s his, and he thinks it’s enough. For now, it’s enough. “You occasionally have smart moments.”

“Occasionally?” Chanyeol asks, climbing back onto the bed on hands and knees and pressing his cheek against Wu Fan’s belly, mischief lurking in his expression. The metal of the charm is cold against Wu Fan’s hip. Chanyeol’s tongue laps a lazy, slow stripe along Wu Fan’s abs, and Wu Fan can’t catch his breath because Chanyeol is so much of everything Wu Fan’s ever wanted, all at once. “That’s all?”

“Sometimes, then,” Wu Fan corrects, hiccupping as Chanyeol’s hair drags across a rapidly hardening erection. “Frequently, even.”

“But not always,” Chanyeol asks, one of his hands skating up the inside of Wu Fan’s thigh.

“Definitely not,” Wu Fan says. “But me either,” he adds, as Chanyeol’s fingers reach his balls.

Chanyeol laughs, and Wu Fan is so in love it hurts.

“It’s still really hideous, though,” Chanyeol says. “I hope people don’t think I bought it.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Wu Fan replies.

“That’s because you know me ridiculously well,” Chanyeol says, and his eyes are alight with happiness and all sorts of other things Wu Fan can’t wait to keep figuring out.

“I do,” Wu Fan agrees. “I really do.”


The thing about being in love and also being an idol is that you never know where you’ll be tomorrow.

Wu Fan guesses he’s lucky, because at least if he doesn’t know where he’ll be tomorrow, at least he knows who’ll be beside him.

Chanyeol is Wu Fan’s best friend, and all these other things, too, and Wu Fan looks at the charm that’s barely visible through Chanyeol’s shirt and lets himself be happy.

He knows, eventually, they’ll be caught by the others; or maybe they’ll tell them, and that things will change and they’ll change, too.

But Wu Fan will still treasure the curl of Chanyeol’s spine up into Wu Fan’s fingertips, and Chanyeol looking up at him trustingly, and chocolate leather across Chanyeol’s throat as Wu Fan fucks him slow, face to face.

Even more than that, he’ll treasure the look in Chanyeol’s eyes as Wu Fan slides fingers through Chanyeol’s hair, because for the first time in Wu Fan’s life, he’s found a place he completely belongs.

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December 2012

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