drabble — chan and his undying want to be inside you even if he's half across the world.
The hotel room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and Chan's ragged breathing on the other end of the line. It was 3 AM in his time zone—somewhere halfway across the world—and the tour schedule had left him exhausted, but not tired enough to stop thinking about you.
“Baby…” His voice was already wrecked, a deep, sleepy rasp that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. You could hear the faint rustle of sheets as he shifted, the soft sound of his hand moving.
You were sprawled on your bed back home, one hand between your thighs, fingers slick as you circled your clit to the sound of him. A tiny whimper slipped out before you could catch it.Chan groaned, low and guttural. “Fuck… do that again.”
You did, letting the next moan spill freely. His breath hitched.
“Do you know what you do to me, darling..?” he whispered, voice strained, almost broken. You heard the wet sound of his fist stroking his cock—slow, deliberate, like he was trying not to lose control too fast. “I’m so fucking hard for you right now. Can’t even sleep because I keep seeing you… hearing you like this.”
“Channie…” you breathed, pushing two fingers inside yourself, hips rolling into your hand. “Miss you. Need you.”
A shaky exhale crackled through the phone, followed by a deep, throaty groan that made your toes curl. “Yeah? You touching that pretty pussy for me?” His accent thickened with arousal. “Wish I was there. Wish I could bury my face between your thighs and taste how wet you are.”
You moaned louder, fingers moving faster. His strokes sounded quicker too, slick and urgent.
“Shit—keep going, baby. Let me hear you,” he panted. “I’m so close already… fuck, you sound so good.”
Your thighs trembled, pleasure coiling tight. “Chan, I— I’m—”
“Come for me, darling,” he growled, voice dropping even lower. “Wanna hear you fall apart while I’m stroking my cock thinking about filling you up.”
The sound of his broken groan—raw, desperate—pushed you over the edge. You came hard, crying out his name into the dark room. Seconds later, Chan cursed, a long, filthy moan tearing from his throat as he spilled over his own hand, breathing your name like a prayer.
For a moment, there was only heavy breathing between you.Then he chuckled softly, tired and fond. “Next time I’m home… we’re not leaving the bed for days.”
You smiled, still catching your breath. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His voice was warm, sated. “Now get some sleep, baby. I love you.”
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