#pcy ff

Red lights beam on the side of the jukebox, flashing in time with the beat of the music that plays through the speakers. Tiled floors, blue, faux leather seats and the smell of cooled coffee drinks. The place seems pulled right from 40s, and yet, it’s still his favorite place in the entire city. Besides the garage, maybe. The diner is never full, leaning more towards bankruptcy on most days with the lack of customers and yet, he comes here like it’s an unchangeable routine.

The lady behind the counter, Samantha, is a graying woman in her fifties, and she hates him smoking indoors. Normally he doesn’t care, since no one else does. But for once, it seems, he decides to be civil. The tall woman plops down the tray with a smile, though her eyebrows are stewed together. His diet seems to consist only of hamburgers and alcohol, but that’s just what’s easiest. He doesn’t have time to order in food, let alone do something healthy for his body like cook actual food.

“What is up with you today? Did you receive some bad news, or something? I’ve never once had to not tell you to put out your cigarette in my fine establishment.” She purses her red, painted lips out as her arms cross over her chest.

“What fine establishment, Sam? This place is just about as dead as your romantic life,” he sighs, grabbing his coke to take a large gulp. The older woman dramatically smacks him with the menu, before rolling her eyes.

“That’s rich coming from you, young man. At least I’ve had a romantic life before, my prince charming just slipped through my fingers. I don’t know what your excuse is. If you don’t soon start seeing someone, you’ll end up just like me, and worse.” She fans herself with the menu, blowing her artificial vanilla perfume his way. Without hesitation, he takes a big bite out of the hamburger, eyes flicking up at her as she talks. “Men can’t handle a life alone, you know. They get emotionally constipated.”

He snorts at that, and hums while chewing. She’s actually right, if he’s being honest. Sam is doing just fine alone, he can’t really say the same for himself though. “Well,” she sighs, cleaning off the wet side of the table for him, before straightening, “just get on it. You’ll be forty and alone sooner than you think, you’re already nearing your thirties.” With that she tosses her rag over her shoulder, and walks away. “Enjoy your meal now, young man.”

He’d find her advice bothersome, if he didn’t know what a genuine person the older woman was. It’s not easy to put up with him sometimes, he knows this too. As he eats, he looks out the darkened windows to the street, watching the light as it slips through the clouds and plays on the house fronts with a twinkling joy. Summer’s coming to an end soon, already indicated by the cooler winds that blow through. It’s strange. Even though he’s evidently slowed down compared to months before, so much more seems to have happened.

This time last year, he was pumping every bit of energy he had into the garage. Every fiber of his being belonged to that place, without second thought, without stopping. He needed something to tune his problems into, needed to distract himself from the real world by sinking into his work and while it worked back then, it’s noticeably different from how he deals with things now. He doesn’t know how much of that started when you jumped into his life head first.

As he eats in silence, sharing the diner only with one other patron, who seems too invested in the newspaper to notice anything around it, the familiar ring of the bell sounds. Soft steps make their way through the hall and into sight, making Chanyeol pause mid-bite. The woman who walks in is quite a bit taller than you, but shares a striking resemblance with you. As she walks towards the bar and closer to him though, he can make out some differences between you two. This girl is a bit older, eyes lined with black wings and hair dyed a soft honey color.

She waves at the woman behind the counter, and clears her throat. “Hello, neighbor.”

“Hiya, young lady,” Sam responds, wide smile on her face. “Don’t you look lovely today? You going somewhere, Yuna?” Chanyeol doesn’t mean to listen in on the conversation, but the diner is so abandoned that he can’t help but tune in.

The woman, who he can only guess is your sister, shakes her head as she leans on the bar with both elbows. “Not really, but thank you. I just wanted to hop in to ask if you’ve seen Y/N, by any chance? She was supposed to come into work today, but the shop is closed and I can’t reach her.” Yuna brushes her bangs out of her face with a frustrated sigh, hands continuing to play with the edge of her shirt. “Has she been here at all, today?”

At that Sam lifts her brows, and reaches over to offer her a glass of water. “I’m afraid I won’t be of much help, dear. I haven’t seen her today, but I’ve been cooped up in here since the morning, too.” Yuna gratefully takes the glass of water in both hands, nodding. “You don’t think something happened to her, do you?” Sam asks.

“No, she’s probably just out with her friends,” Yuna sighs, “it wouldn’t be the first time that she doesn’t let me know where she’s going. But you know, she’s a really responsible girl, normally. After our parents divorced, she basically took all of the household chores on her shoulders, got good grades in school, even though she had to carry the weight of three people on her shoulders. It’s why I had no doubts, handing her the reigns of the store, but—” with that she pauses, and leans forward a little more, “I’m worried about the friend’s she’s made.”

“How come?”

“Dew’s a nice girl. She’s not much of a party goer, and when she does, she lets everyone know so that we don’t worry. At least, that’s how she was growing up. Now she’s spending every day and night with those boys, I just… I don’t know. There’s things that go on in this city that I don’t want her to come into contact with.” Though Samantha nods in agreement, she places a hand on the other’s shoulder, and sighs.

“You’re not going to be able to protect her from everything. It’s good that you’re concerned about her. But I think, in cases like these, where friends are involved, she’s going to have to make that decision for her own.” Chanyeol sighs as he stands from his booth, brows furrowed. It makes both women look over at him, as if only now remembering that there’s other people in the diner, but they don’t say anything. Chanyeol gives a small nod as he passes by them two, waving casually.

“You can put it on my tab, Sam.” The older woman hums in reply, and goes back to her business. As he rounds the corner, he can see her pulling your sister into a warm hug, patting her back comfortingly. As he opens the door, the sound of the bell rings again. When the door falls shut behind him, all the music disappears. The street is void, for lack of a better word. It might just be because of the conversation, but it’s startling. When he looks to his right, a cold feeling comes over his skin.

The ice cream shop is closed, indeed. He hadn’t really paid attention to it when he came. The normally bright colors of the interior are tucked away behind the ugly, metal shutters, and the soft instrumental music that plays from the boxes is disconnected, leaving behind the occasional sound of static. The place looks and feels cold. And he’s seen those same shutters about a million times before, but this was never a thought that crossed his mind before you came. It only serves to remind him again, that something needs to be done.

And that something might just have to be him, if no one else does anything about it. For once, Chanyeol’s determination seems like the right choice. As he crosses the street, he jams his hand in his pocket to pull out the ever familiar red and white box, and places a smoke between his lips. If he gets the chance, he tells himself, he’s going to get over his brooding and talk to you. Help you out. It’s all that he can do, but for the first time in months— he’s hopeful that he stands a chance. A chance at doing the right thing.

It’s funny. If nothing else, Chanyeol just wants Sehun to shut up right now. Baekhyun too, and if possible the entire room, for a while. As always, he’s left wondering why the hell he came out tonight, and drowning his unpleasant thoughts in scotch that definitely shouldn’t have been opened. Too bad. It’s stupidly hot in this house, leaving his clothes glued to his shape, and his thoughts brewing in the background. A girl he’s forgotten the name of sits on his lap, thighs warming his own and her soft whispers thumping on his eardrums.

His chest is tight and hands are heavy, and so when the girl takes his hands he doesn’t pull back, though he feels like doing so. Kyungsoo, despite all odds, seems to be enjoying his time for once, settled politely in the couch next to Yuta’s ex. His friend is normally too in his head about everything, to join in on the fun, too calculated to let loose like the others. But even though Kyungsoo says he doesn’t like the woman, Chanyeol would bet money on an eventual hook-up. If two attractive people spend a load of time together, it’s inevitable. When the shorter man sends his a questioning look, Chanyeol looks away, leaning back in the couch.

The room is a burnt amber because of the obnoxious lights draping down the walls like a curtain, and the floor sticks to the soles of his shoes when he moves them. And though a band plays in the other room, it’s not a good one. But despite all of the reasons that could possibly irk him, they aren’t the cause of the thoughts prodding at his brain. Sehun seems blatantly unaware as ever, though Chanyeol’s not sure if he’s doing it on purpose right now or if his friend is really that stupidly lacking in tact.

“I’m just saying— if you go for it, y’ should go for it,” Sehun slurs, tongue thick with some strong liquor that is starting to sound insanely appealing right now. “I— no, if you wanna go for it, you should— ‘s what I mean. Before that cherry wannabe or his bleached bimbo friend hop on the choo choo pussy train and leave you moping for the rest of your sad, sad life.” Jongdae, who looks none the wiser on the conversation he’s suddenly tuned into, just giggles brightly and shrugs at the older.

Without fail, Baekhyun turns to his friend, and leans forward to pat Chanyeol’s shoulder with a grin, moving the girl to the side to get a clear view of his face. “Yeah, Park. Go for it.” He smiles knowingly across to Sehun as he takes the last gulp of his bottle, before tossing it into the cooling bucket with the unopened beers. “I’m dying for another Beauty and the Beast remake,” he adds, laughing at his own joke with full force. His eyes turn into thin moons with the satisfaction he gets out of it, and for once Chanyeol’s not sure weather to punch his friend or join him.

It seems appropriate, doesn’t it? He’s the one who told you to stay away from him, yet here he is, glancing to the side every few minutes to make sure you haven’t left yet. He’s jittery like a young school girl, any time he catches your eyes. Staring, only to look away when you glance back with a smile that seems permanently glued to your lips. You’re particularly beaming today, radiating a pink, velvet aura that reminds him of cotton candy. Your hair pulled in a high ponytail that reveals the tattoo that you got on your neck not too long ago. Jongdae warned him, but clearly not enough, because the effect it has on him is weighted.

“She’s looking over this way,” Baekhyun grins again when he faces the other, his lips jutting out. “You know, for a grown man the size of a tree, you really can be a big bitch sometimes.” Without hesitating, he jams a cold beer in his friend’s hand, ignoring lap-girl when she sends him a glare at being interrupted for a second time. Such a small sized human, but such a blabbering mouth. The brunet leans back himself then, running his fingers through his hair. “And don’t even start to me about Dara. Yes, she fucked you up, and yes, she was a horrible, soul-eating piece of shit, but that’s not what’s holding you back here. Man up, Chanyeol.”

Though it’s obvious taunting, Chanyeol clenches his jaw, his shoulders tensing in the process. Several beats pass, before he’s turning over his shoulder for the nth time tonight. This time, you’re already looking at him. Your lips are curled at the ends, lashes dark but eyes playing with a daring glint, and for the first time in maybe— ever— does he allow himself to admit that you look undeniably attractive. He’d blame it on the alcohol, but you both seem to know better. Your lips move and though he can’t make out the sound of your voice above the music, the sentiment doesn’t pass him completely. His frown must be visible even from afar though, because you giggle. ‘What are you drinking?’ you mouth again, cocking your head at his hand this time to drive the point home.

It’s a subtle thing, but he swears your lips go from a grin to a genuine smile when he opens his mouth in understanding. It’s adorable, for one. But it’s also very you, and maybe that’s what warms his insides more. “Guinness,” he responds, making sure to face you as well as he can from across the room. You smile yet again, and hold out an ‘okay’ sign with your hand, before moving to stand up, presumably to get said drink. None of your friends follow, only his gaze following behind as your black skirt wraps around the curve of your ass.

And fuck it, if it isn’t the chance he’s been waiting for. He moves lap-girl into the side of the guy next to him, and stands from the warm sofa to make his way out of the little nook his friends have claimed as their own for the night, under the loud holler of Jongdae. Who, despite being the most sober, still can’t keep quiet at the best of times. Though lap-girl seems slightly upset, the guy who’s lap she is thrust into seems more than happy to make up the difference, and so Chanyeol quickly pushes past the couple blocking him.

The room sways just slightly as he moves through the sticky lump of people, long legs doing more damage than good in this tight a space. Of course, for all the teasing they can do, and all the jabs they might give, his friends are right. Even now, when he has a reason to talk to you and now he has a question to ask, do his nerves go flying at the single first chance they get. But with all of Baekhyun’s nagging, he can’t possibly let the night go on unresolved. He can just see you move through the crowd a bit ahead, swaying more than a bit yourself. Maybe tonight isn’t a good night, and maybe he’ll regret it in the morning, but for the first time in a long while does he feel like he has a goal outside of his own bubble. He’s not about to let it slip past.

You unknowingly lead him through the hall and into the next room of the house, before the people finally clear out enough to allow him a quicker pace. For how much shorter your legs are than his, you’re surprisingly fast. Your hair bounces with every one of your steps, swaying softly to alter between hiding your tattoo and not. He bites his bottom lip, and takes another two steps, before reaching down to grab you by your shirt. You veer back like a spring because of his grip on you, as his other hand comes to keep you from falling, hoping to avoid the typical clumsiness that that usually causes. In your attempt to turn, you stumble backwards, resulting in an equally suggestive pose.

You stare up at him for several seconds from your place squeezed against the wall, his body surrounding you on all other sides. With a little frown, Chanyeol lets go of your shirt, though the hand on your other side doesn’t have any intention of leaving. Before he can say anything, you let out a slight giggle, and press your hands against your chest. “You scared my goddamn brain out of me, Chanyeol, geez.” There’s a slight fog in your eyes indeed, the result of some kind of alcohol no doubt, and your lips are unnaturally red, which is probably a sign of Baron. But he doesn’t care, because you look intoxicating in the best way.

“Finally, here you are,” he just sighs, doing his best to keep the stubborn frown from crawling back to his brows. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for the entire evening.” For a second, he wonders if this is out of line. Just a split second, where it seems like it’s not his place to intervene, and another where he has to wonder if you’re bothered by his unending indecisiveness. But as if on clue, you laugh. Full, and genuine, with every fiber of your being you laugh, leaning your head to his chest in the process and with that he couldn’t give any less of a shit, even if it was his place to say jack shit. Because he wants to, anyway.

When you take a deep breath in, you look at him from under your lashes and smile. “Oh, ‘s that so?” Your mouth curves prettily in the shine of the purple spotlights. “Good. I was staring to think you’d gone completely mental, with the amount of times I caught you staring at me from across the room.” A mortified warmth spreads on his cheeks at that, though it doesn’t seem to bother you. “I’m glad you’ve finally caught me, then.” Your hand wraps around his larger, fingers cold against his warm skin.

With a deep breath through his nose, Chanyeol looks away from you to survey the room, at a sudden loss for words. The room is much more quiet than the main one, lacking in people too. It’s significantly colder here, which seems to make the warmth of your body more noticeable. Your eyes are on him as he moves back to face you, softly regarding him. “Listen,” he starts, “I wanted to— have a word with you without your friends, without everyone staring at me like I’m crazy. I might be, but I don’t need everyone pointing it out.” 

Though you don’t change your expression, he can tell your brain is turning it’s gears, lips softly opening. “If you’re gonna listen, that is. Because I won’t spend my time trying to explain something if you don’t wanna hear it.” The last part slips out before he can stop it, an explanation ready to flow from his mouth at all times. You nod though, wide eyed, as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips again. You must be thirsty still.

“Is it true?” you suddenly ask, leaning a little more towards him. Your finger softly taps the side of his hand, though he doesn’t know if it’s a comforting move or a concerned one. Though your fingers are noticeably colder than his, your touch is soft, like velveteen. Your words slowly filter in above the music.

His dark eyes bore into yours for an extended second, before the tenseness of his shoulders drops. “Is what true?” His eyes glide to your lips when you lick them, clearly holding something you want to say back. But gentle as ever, you just move back to press your weight into the wall, tilting your head to the side as you shake it.

“Nothing,” you mumble, barely audible over the cascading sound of the band across the house, “continue, please. You were explaining that you don’t like having pointed out that you’re crazy, I think. Not sure though, you weren’t making any sense.” Chanyeol’s laugh is one of surprise, slipping out like it’s been aching to do so for a long time and you also look surprised, if your raised eyebrows are anything to go by. It doesn’t last nearly as long as it should, but you seem to bloom at the sound, even joining with it after a bit. His laugh makes you flutter, and that almost sends him spiraling. Because it’s his laugh that is making you smile like that.

“I’m not crazy,” he brings out, forcing down the corners of his lips. Your own follow suit, your best attempt at being serious. “Look, Y/N. I know that I’m probably the last person you want to take advice from,” Chanyeol’s hand moves from your side to glide through his white strands, soothing his nerves, “but— I uh… I worry about you. Definitely lately.” His dark eyes find yours with more fevor this time, flicking over your face as you listen. Though you’ve done your very best to conceal them, there’s grooves under your eyes that weren’t there when you first talked to him, and even with your ever-lasting smile, your face has a tiredness that refuses to stand down.

“I’m not gonna tell you who to be friends with. Hell, I couldn't give less of a shit even if they were the shittiest people on earth, because you’re old enough to take care of that yourself. But I will tell you that this— whatever it is you’re doing— isn’t gonna last. And one day you’re gonna wake up and wonder how the fuck everything went so wrong.” His voice is deep when he talks, though this can’t be the only reason that you lean into his touch more, eyes moving from him to the floor multiple times. He sighs, and squeezes your fingers a little more in his own. “Believe me.”

It stays silent for a long minute, one where Chanyeol can see every breath you take. Eventually you bite your bottom lip. “That’s easy for you to say.” Though you smile, you look over to the bar with distant eyes. “Park Chanyeol,” you grin, mouthing it eagerly as if his name is something grand. Something to be proud of. “Chanyeol, with his white hair and tattoos.” Your lips look like pink candy floss as you speak. It’s distracting. “Stupidly hot. Like, it’s-insane-that-someone-looks-like-that hot. Infuriatingly fucking hot. You’ve had every pretty girl in this city, and if you haven’t, you could easily.”

When you really catch his eyes again, you pout. You’re a grown, cotton candy baby, pouting his heart into the next gear and he feels like leaning closer to you just so he can hold himself up on the wall. He almost feels like making fun at himself for how badly it renders him. Instead he chooses to take a step back, looking anywhere but your face. That’s why he notices your hands are fisted into your shirt, exposing a sliver of skin of your waist unintentionally. God, you look like you taste so sweet. This tiny piece of exposed skin makes his tongue heavy and belly drop. He looks away. “You- you think I’m hot?” he settles on saying, jaw clenching.

You huff out a small laugh, and place your hands on his chest, the pressure of your nails poking through his shirt. “I think you’re ridiculous,” you smile, eyes glinting with a playfulness as you glance at him from under your lashes, “that you even have to ask. I’ve had to keep myself in check since the first time I saw you.” The smile on your face drops when you realize what you just said, embarrassment coloring your cheeks for the first time tonight. Chanyeol revels in the shade that dusts your cheeks though.

Before you can bring out an attempt to cover up your confession, he leans closer, effectively trapping you between him and the wall. He would think it too forward, even for him, if you weren’t looking at him with the most blown out expression. Before he can think about it, his hand finds your chin, tilting it up towards him so that you can look at him, and oh— are you looking. He can almost see the pitter patter of your heart on your face, longing marking every inch of skin. With a firm hold on your jaw, he leans down to hover in your space, faces so close that he can feel your breath meeting his own. “You’re been wanting me for months, huh?” His words are confident, overly so. It would be presumptuous, if your breathing didn’t stutter as it did.

When you give the tiniest motion of agreement, he takes a step closer, the length of his body finally finding yours for what must have been an eternity of want. Your lips open to let out a small noise, so soft that it immediately gets swallowed by the room. But Chanyeol smiles at it, moving his thumb over the soft expanse of your cheek. “I could ruin you without trying, sugar.” Again, you nod at the words that he forms, warm and dark in the thick tension of the room. Within only two minutes, he’s got you in between his arms, and though he didn’t start the night with this in mind, maybe he’s wanted this for longer than he dares admit. Maybe he’s wanted you from the first time he saw you, as well. Marking your baby-blue clad body with blood-red hickeys. The tightness of his pants seems to prove so.

“You could,” you bring out feebly, fingers tangling in his black shirt to keep a hold on reality, “and I’d probably let you.” His free hand moves to grab your thigh, pulling you flush against him now, as the other goes to rest on the small of your back. Your eyes are dark like smoke now, and though he can’t check to see, he knows his are much the same. And then you move one of your hands to grab at the hair at the back of his head, willingly tilting your face upwards so that your lips almost brush his, and every string in his body is ready to snap. Every piece of clothing on his body seems to much, too warm. The friction is irritating. “Do you want to kiss me, Chanyeol?” you breathe.

Yes. Before the world can even continue spinning, are his lips on yours. Instinctive, like he’d snap if he didn’t. Mouth on yours. Hands on your skin and in your shirt and traveling up your back. It happens in an instant, so sudden that he might topple over, if he wasn’t already pressing you into the wall. Your lips are scalding, red hot like smoldering coals and maybe you could send him up in flames if you tried. Your hands grab him harder, closer, as if the non-space is still too much and he’d be inclined to agree. And his lips move harshly on yours, tongue meeting your own.

The kiss is hard and messy, fire surging from your body to his. He bends down more to tuck you entirely in his hold, while his hand grabs a handful of ass. When he squeezes hard, you squeak into his mouth, dissolving in a twirl of smiles and something more desperate. But you don’t ever stop kissing him, and in that moment he’s sure you two could keep going forever. Where your fingers were cold before, now they seem to trail sparks over his skin. You pull away for a second to take a breath, before kissing him again, his bottom lip, his jaw, under his ear. Your one hand moves to hold his cheek, while the other grabs desperately at his shoulder.

But he’s only just gotten a taste of you, so Chanyeol catches your lips with his again, sucking sharply on your bottom lip. It makes you melt into his hold, trying desperately to stay upright. The hand that is glued to the soft expanse of your back moves to grab another handful of ass, your hips pulled to his. Your tongue tastes like some candy flavored drink, melting with the barren taste of his scotch from earlier. He leans you into the wall completely, feeling your chest brushing against his own with every breath. Every part of you is piping hot, sweet and sour and holy fuck— his dick is so hard. Never once has a make out turned him on this much. As in retaliation for the interruption of your kisses, you pull his lip between your teeth, and bite it, hard. The sting only serves as a temporary line down to earth.

Mouths and tongues a blur as they melt together. Again, his hands are moving, as if automatic. His fingers tangle in the bottom of your hair, most definitely messing up your ponytail. You pull back to rest your head on the wall, allowing him a breath, before you blatantly moan at the feeling of his hands on you. When he opens his eyes, yours stay closed. Your breath is heavy, lips bright red and blurred at the edges. You look fucking heavenly, and the thought that it’s all for him to take makes every fiber in him shake. “Don’t be gentle with me,” you mouth, blindly grabbing at his neck to pull his face back to yours, “please.”

Your bottom lip seems to shake with how badly you mean it. “Have me, your way.” Your whisper is faint, bringing a small smile to his lips. You don’t see it, but it’s okay. He too, is overwhelmed with the undying urge to fade from the world. He kisses you as a response, softly this time, with a small hum to join. When his lips break from yours, you do open your eyes, looking just as smitten as he feels. “Ruin me, Chanyeol,” you beg, clenching your jaw. He stares at you for just a moment longer, before leaning even closer, and nodding mindlessly. Dragging his mouth over your jaw. Down your neck, hard, open mouth kisses pressed everywhere. And as soon as he adds teeth, you curl into his body, clinging desperately to his back. You moan, your noises sweet like honey.

The thought of fucking you over the bar crosses his mind briefly, but as fast as it comes, he knows that won’t sate him. He needs you on a bed, spread out for him once, or twice. As he works, the heat between your bodies seems to come to a boil, sweat dripping down his neck and chest and joining the ruined floor of the party. Your nails in his back, hands shaking. The tightness of his pants is almost painful, but the idea of taking his time with you is much too appealing. Every time he brands his mark on your skin, you whimper, tilting your hips to rub over him. It pulls a small laugh out of him, brushing over your shoulder. “Eager, baby?” he asks, though he’s not expecting an answer. Instead, he just digs his fingers into the soft skin of your ass again, and continues the trail of hickies, to which you mumble some incoherent words.

Finally, when the heat becomes too much to bare, and your whines turn into noises of clear impatience, he pulls back to check his work. Your shirt is pulled all the way forward, almost slipping off your one shoulder, and your mouth is open, one lip pulled harshly between your teeth. The hickies blooming on your skin only make you look more wrecked. He thought he was done, but fuck. Yet again, he has to lean down to grab your face in both of his large hands, and to pull your lips to his. You just whimper, and let him claim your mouth as his, looking too fucked out to make any understandable thoughts. And he hasn’t even used his hands on you yet.

Your glowing body presses to his again, in an attempt to move things forward maybe, fuck if he knows. At this point, he’d do anything if you just asked. But you’re letting him lead, so he’ll do his very best to ruin you like you need to be ruined. When he lets you drop back, his knee lifts to sit tightly in between your thighs, and you full-on moan at the small act. “You’re such a sweet, little thing,” he breathes, mouth at the nape of your neck to bite down there sharply, as your hips stutter to drag over his thick thigh. It sends an unbearable amount of pressure to his center, enough to make him pause. You don’t let him though, squeezing and grabbing at any skin you can get your hands on, as you successfully roll your hips on his thigh. A high pitched noise trembles from your tongue. “Aren’t you a desperate, little girl? Look at you rubbing yourself all over my thigh.”

You just nod harshly, opening your eyes to look at the white haired man with a black-dripping need. “Ch- Chanyeol,” you whisper, digging your nails into his bicep as he pushes his leg harder into your center, “fuck, holy fuck, please.” It’s the first coherent words you’ve spoken since earlier, and part of him longs to give in just at the effort. But your gorgeous expression right now is priceless.

“You’re soaking through your panties, aren’t you?” His one hand moves to slip under your shirt, under your bra, to grab your breast without shame. Your eyes shut with a sharp breath in. “Aren’t you, sugar?” he repeats, dark tone pressed to the softness of your cheek. You breathe a faint ‘yes’, probably, but Chanyeol’s not sure. He manoeuvres your chin sideways to access the untouched side of your neck, and sucks down there with a feverous breath of his own. He didn’t start the night with this in mind, but fucking shit, he wishes he’d done this three times over already. You leave him starstruck. As your hips move over his thigh in a punishing rhythm, Chanyeol squeezes hard at your soft skin, and rolls your sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger. It all seems too much for you, because you suddenly pull his head away from your neck, and quiver in his hold.

“I— I’m,” his free hand moves to wrap your one thigh around him, not bothered by the interruption in the slightest, “I need to…” You don’t finish your sentence when he ruts his hips to your core, making the both of you moan. God, he wants nothing more than to have you right here, have everyone see who you belong to. But you both seem to know he’s too selfish to do so. You try again, looking at him from under hooded eyes to jut out your bottom lip. “Chanyeol, please, fuck— I’m close.” The words alone make his dick even harder, if that’s possible. It might not be long or he bursts, with how tight his pants are wrapped around him.

The smile he gives you is a genuine one. “You wanna come? You wanna cum all over me, have everyone see how good I can make you feel?” You nod your head desperately, and wrap your hand around his forearm for support. The desperate roll of your hips to his clothed dick would be answer enough for him though. With a devilish smirk that fights it’s way to his face, he trails his fingers down the valley of your breasts and even lower, not letting your hips still on his thigh. His free hand dips smoothly under your skirt, and past your ruined panties. “God, you are soaked, baby.” Your wetness is sure to stain a dark patch on his jeans.

“Ah,” you whimper, “please,” at this point, you don’t even seem to know what you’re begging for. The leg that is pressed in between your legs parts them wider, giving him the space needed to slip his fingers under you to trail them between your lips, first one, then two. As he does so, you tilt your head back, allowing him the perfect opportunity to latch his mouth back on your neck. If anyone were to see him here, they might easily know where his hand is going, but most people are luckily too entranced by the alcohol to notice. And if they are not, he’s too entranced by you to give a shit. You’re effectively dripping, allowing his thick finger to slide in without any resistance. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second, enjoying your soft noises of pleasure above him as his lips suck a hickey at the top of your breast.

“Do my fingers feel good, sugar?” He thrusts them inside hard to accompany his words, sending you forward into a blubbering mess. The only thing he can make out is the word ‘yes’, that you chant a million times. You’re so responsive, it’s adorably attractive. His fingers move smoothly in and out of you with a come hither motion every time inside, allowing you the first feeling of stretch. But he doesn’t stay this kind for long, needy in his touches as much as you are. He pulls back to watch you squirm on his hand and lock your thigh around his body, fingers thrusting in and out with obscene noises and deliver a slap to your clit every time skin connects to skin.

You’re pinned to the wall under his sharp movements, arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close and breathing hot and heavy against his skin. And every time he jams them into your tight hole, thumb rolling over the sensitive bud with ease, you seem to clench harder around his hand. He adds a third finger, smiling at the adorable sound you make, and curls his fingers as much as possible, until the rhythm becomes too much to bear. Your body bends entirely under his will, as you whimper. “God— fucking shit, I’m gonna come.” A soft whine, before your face tilts towards him with two shaky breaths. “Kiss me, Chanyeol, please— oh, please, don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t stop even if someone paid him to do so. He gives in, moving his free hand to your jaw to grab it tight, and pushes his lips back on yours harshly. His thick fingers spreading you thin as you clench around him, and his thumb setting an unrelenting pace. It doesn’t take long until you’re coming all over his hand and thigh, moaning into his mouth with an iron grip on his shoulders. You dissolve in his arms as he doesn’t let up on your clit until you’re effectively shaking, body jerking with aftershocks. His hand stills in you for a moment as you come down from your high, mouth hung open.

And then you open your eyes at him, and send him the world’s sweetest smile, and he’s totally lost for you. For tonight, he’ll be yours, and just yours. He’ll make it worth the wait. “Good?” he whispers into your ear, covering your body with his as much as possible when he pulls his fingers out of you, and unwraps your thigh from his body. Your cum and arousal drips down your both thighs as you nod your head, still holding onto him for support. He nods in agreement once, before pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling away from you. He slides his fingers into his own mouth to clean them off one by one, enjoying the shell-shocked look on your face as he does so.

“I can’t believe I did that in public,” you suddenly seem to realize, which makes him chuckle. Not so much in public, as in a place that could become public, really. You are backed into the corner of the room for his viewing pleasure for a reason.

“I can,” he says, “and you did perfectly.” He reaches down in between your thighs once more to swipe up the trails of your cum, and reaches up to hover them over your lips, to which you respond by eagerly taking his fingers in yours, and cleaning those off with your soft tongue too. The visual only reminds him of how hard his cock is, and how badly he needs you. You finish off with a soft pop, before looking down at the floor with coloring cheeks. “Good girl.”

He looks around for a moment to catch his bearings, before looking back over at you where you’re flusteredly fixing your skirt back over your body. “I have a room here upstairs, if you want.” Your big eyes find his with a dark burning desire, still. “Not to be overly direct, but you looked gorgeous coming around my fingers, and I can only imagine how you’d look around my cock. That, and there’s a private bathroom so if you want to clean up afterwards, you can do that too.”

This makes a smile play at your lips, as you nod at him. “That sounds good.” Your smaller hand links in his, as you cock your head towards the hall. Smile wide. “Lead the way, Park Chanyeol.”

next part is going to secure me a spot in hell, but let’s be honest. I’d be in my element there anyway. I really hope you liked this chapter, and that it sates some of the frustration you must all be feeling about our two idiots. Thank you so much for reading! I read all replies, comments and asks, and I have to bow down to you all for the continues support you’ve all shown me with this series.