you know what? not even god can stop me

💋

Pink, red, pink, red, pink.

You slide the final seed bead onto the straight pin and reach for your jewelry pliers, carefully bending the remainder of the wire to the side before rolling it into a neat circle.

There. All the pieces for your keychains are done.

Now you just need to assemble them. You pop open the container of jump rings and select one, clamping down on one side of the ring with the jewelry pliers. Carefully you pinch the other side with your fingers, and then you pry it open.

It opens the wrong way, stretching into an oblong C instead of the angled opening you needed.

“Stupid pliers,” you sigh, dropping the ring and nudging it out of your immediate workspace.

Chan shifts behind you, chin hooking suddenly over your shoulder, and you glance at him. Of course, he brushes his lips against your cheek in a tiny greeting before nodding towards the mess you’ve spread across the living room table.

“What’s wrong with the pliers?” he asks. You wrinkle your nose as you lean back against him and the front of the couch.

“Technically nothing. These pliers are just harder to open jump rings with, and I left my regular pliers at home.”

Chan’s arm curls around you, resting along your collarbones and just underneath his chin. “Regular pliers? Like just the normal ones that come in a tool kit?”

“Yeah, that’s where I got mine.”

He hums, then presses a kiss to the side of your neck. “Wait here.”

You watch from the floor as Chan rolls himself off the couch and disappears around the corner. A minute of shuffling sounds later, he returns, a pair of regular pliers in hand and a triumphant grin on his face.

“These work?” he asks, and you reach up for him, smiling back.

“Yeah, those are perfect. No, c’mere,” you say, swatting away the pliers and gesturing for him to bend down. “I don’t wanna kiss the pliers.”

Chan laughs and leans down obediently. You cup his pretty face in your hands and kiss him for a lingering moment before pulling back and taking the pliers.

As you settle back to work, you expect Chan to return to his book, but instead he sits directly behind you, legs gently bracketing your sides. His shadow looms over your workspace, a little in the way, but you don’t mind, especially as his hands drift to your shoulders and begin massaging. You hum appreciatively. In return, you feel the soft pressure of his lips on the crown of your head.

“You’re using both pliers?” he asks in surprise as you pinch another jump ring between his pliers and then reach for your own. You nod.

“It lets me get a really good grip on it, so I can open it properly. See? Like this.” With a twist of your wrist, the jump ring opens easily, just the way it should. You set the pliers down and show him the little ring, then reach for the one you messed up. “This one won’t work anymore because I separated the ends. It’s nearly impossible to get it closed again now. Not worth the effort.”

“Huh.” Chan plucks the messed-up ring from your hand, and you let him take it, returning to your unassembled keychain and selecting the silver heart charm. Attaching it to the base of the keychain only takes a moment, and you reach for the pair of pliers again, ready to open another jump ring. But Chan taps your shoulder, voice playful as he asks, “How do I look?”

You glance back to see him with a lip piercing.

No, wait; he’s just slipped the messed-up jump ring over his lower lip.

But it looks like a lip piercing.

And he looks hot.

You stare for a moment at the way the silver curves over the pink swell of his lip. Then you set down the pliers.

His smile falters as you turn around, bracing your palms on his knees as you settle onto yours. “Is it not good?” he asks, almost pouting, and oh the way the ring digs into his pursed lip is sickening.

“Shut up,” you murmur, and then you grab the strings of his hoodie and yank him down.

His pretty mouth crashes into yours. He squeaks, then whimpers, then moans as you tilt your head and kiss him harder. The little ring nudges against your lip, a little spark of cold against the warmth of his mouth, and you chase it with your tongue as you rise up from your knees, pushing Chan back and climbing onto his lap. He’s pliant beneath you, body rolling down into the couch and lips parting to let your tongue in. His hands fly to your hips and just cling.

Another day you might have fun going slow, playing with him and making him wait, but you can’t be bothered right now. He’s whimpering anyway as you lave your tongue over the ring, pressing just enough that the open ends must be digging into his skin. That’s alright. He likes it.

Chan’s fun like that.

“You,” you murmur against his lips, inching your knees closer around his thighs, “look so hot right now, pretty boy.”

His breath hitches. His hands spasm, clutching at your hips. You grin and nudge his chin lightly to the side, giving you better access to that pretty, pretty ring.

You graze your teeth against it, and Chan shudders.

You draw his lip into your mouth and bite a perfect crescent around the ring, and half a cry leaves Chan’s mouth before his voice gives out.

His grip on your hips feels significantly weaker as you release his lip and pull back, careful not to nudge the ring out of place.

“Look at you,” you breathe, cupping his cheeks. His eyes meet yours beneath heavy eyelids, already so dazed from so little. His lip is red now, red and swollen, the curve of your teeth slowly fading from his skin. You run one hand up and rake it through his hair, tugging just enough to guide his head back the slightest amount. He goes so, so easily. “Pretty boy,” you murmur again, and his eyelashes flutter. “My pretty boy.”

“Yours,” Chan whispers. His voice almost shakes, dripping with a silent plea.

You don’t make him wait, mostly because you don’t want to wait.

You lean down and fit your lips to his, tongue curling right into his mouth and his addicting warmth. The ring rides the flow between you as you kiss him deeper and deeper, and from the timing of his whimpers and the twitching of his fingers, you know it’s digging into him. But from the little moan he gives when you pull back enough to tongue at the ring, warm and wet now, you know he doesn’t mind.

And hell if he doesn’t sound pretty.

“Did you know what you were doing?” you murmur between kisses as you trail your way down to his throat, pulling on his hair until he’s perfectly presented for you. You kiss the line of his neck. “Did you know how hot you would look? How crazy you would make me?”

“No,” he gasps. He’s grabbing at the back of your shirt now, fingers scrabbling for something to dig into. Cute. “I didn’t know –”

He breaks off with a tiny, pretty sound as you reach up with your free hand to pinch his lip, right next to the ring. His fingertips drag down your back, nails just barely skimming your skin, and you hiss against his throat and pinch him again. He jerks. His spine arches up into you. but you nip sharply at his collarbone, and he takes the warning well, flattening himself against the couch once more.

“Good,” you murmur, kissing slowly back up his neck. “Good boy. Good, pretty, pretty boy.”

The noise he makes is unintelligible and deliciously, delightfully desperate.

You kiss his open mouth, and his startled gasp melts into a whine as you drag your tongue along the line of his teeth. His nails are digging into your back now, half wrapped in your shirt, but your hands are in his hair, and his grip on you tightens with each sharp tug you give him.

He whimpers as you prod at the ring where it meets the inner curve of his lip. He whimpers again as you pull away, and then he shudders adorably at the feather-light kiss you leave atop the ring.

“Pretty boy with a piercing, huh?” you whisper against his skin.

“Yes!”

His response is so quick and needy that you almost laugh. Instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

This time, you let it be long and slow. Chan melts beneath you, more than he already did, until you’re pretty sure his thighs are shaking. He’s so beautiful. So good.

So you treat him a little bit.

You close your teeth around the edge of the little ring and pull slowly away.

Chan’s breathing hitches, then stutters, as his lip stretches out, the ring slowly scraping along his skin. His whine arcs higher and higher, until –

Plip!

The jump ring pops free, trapped between your teeth, and Chan’s swollen lip snaps back into his mouth with a little wet sound. Oh, he’s beautiful like this, dazed and breathless, head back against the cushions, chest heaving and eyes lidded. A beautiful mix of pink cheeks and red ears and pink lips and red marks and his pink tongue darting out to soothe the pain.

You spit the ring out onto his hoodie. He swallows as you rest your elbows on his shoulders, lingering close, and his mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something.

“You alright?” you murmur, and he nods quickly. But there’s still something on the tip of his tongue. “Go ahead,” you urge, kissing the tip of his nose. “You were perfect. You can talk.”

Chan swallows again. He still hasn’t caught his breath, poor thing. “Um,” he manages. “Where’s the nearest piercing place?”