#pcytio

Park Chanyeol, as in the strangely enigmatic man he’d met weeks ago on a dreadfully formal conference between overconfident investors, as in the wonderfully eloquent stranger who became a house guest within five hours of their first meeting, as in the woefully thrilling figure who didn’t bat an eye at the stray pair of handcuffs that were still latched onto the barred bed frame. Sehun wouldn’t be so bothered by the other’s company if not for the fact that he can’t quite define what their ‘relationship’ quite is. Because that’s what this was, was it not? A relationship. Sehun couldn’t quite imagine unlocking his bedroom for someone who wasn’t in a sorts of ‘relationships’ with him, nor could he deny the strange tension in the air from simply being in the other’s presence. 

 Yes, for someone who was so used to being able to define his role in any relationship, this mysterious limbo of wavering power was something to be reckoned with.

“Chanyeol.” Sehun rasps, voice thick with sleep as he groggily props himself up on one arm. Fingers dig into soft sheets to anchor him in place, the pale ivory sheets pooling around his bare waist to expose his torso to the sunlight that filters through the partially-uncovered window. “Chanyeol, it’s morning.”

A few quiet moments pass before a disoriented groan breaks the silence, the other’s deep voice rumbling just enough for Sehun to feel the sensation through the thin sheets that separate them. 

“Already…?” The response is a confused one, a sentiment that Sehun can sympathize with. It seemed as if they had just fallen into bed, lips still alight with their second round of cigarettes as fumbling hands tear clothing off of lean bodies until they’re both calmed by the cool air that hits bare skin. He doesn’t quite remember what time they had decided to stop this contest of who was in control and simply bask in the presence of a worthy equal, but it’s a transition that he doesn’t regret.

Long fingers skim the exposed span of Chanyeol’s naked back, Sehun’s eyes running appreciately over pale skin studded with multiple scars that are thrown into relief by the angles of toned muscles that span the other’s shoulders. “Mhm.” Sehun hums in reply, feeling - for the first time in quite a while - as if he were possible of having a relationship that wasn’t permeated by the stigma of polygamy and dominance despite the fact that he has, quite literally, built his whole life around the idea. 

Chanyeol doesn’t answer, just gives a soft sigh as Sehun’s fingers thread through the other’s hair, the silence descending upon them in a moment of uncertainty. He would be more alarmed if he didn’t feel Chanyeol’s arm thrown over his lap, the other’s grasp tightening to bring Sehun closer into his embrace.

“…I didn’t expect you to linger for so long.” Sehun’s words hold a different kind of meaning; he is, in part, referring to the fact that Chanyeol’s visit had lasted past the expected three hours, but he’s more directly alluding to the reality that Chanyeol is still here, in Sehun’s bed, well past the time when he’d usually be up and gone. He’s not expecting anything— never has and never will, because they both first spent the night together under the shared understanding that this was simply an act derived from the desire for human intimacy, no strings attached. Chanyeol doesn’t owe him anything and he, Chanyeol. It’s a working routine and now that the other has broken it, Sehun is trying to feel his way through the situation.

Chanyeol gives a rumble of acknowledgement, turning his head so that he’s staring right at Sehun, lids droopy with sleep as he eyes Sehun as if he were going to pull some kind of trick on him. “Yes— strange, I’ll admit, but…well, after last night—”

Sehun cuts Chanyeol off with a small shake of his head, already moving to escape the other’s grasp because he couldn’t, wouldn’t try to see things where there was none; the terms had been made clear and he’d be a fool to ignore that. 

“I’m going to go wash up, Chanyeol. You’re welcome to help yourself when I’m done, there should be coffee in the kitchen—” He’s pulling every last bit of himself back into place, expression becoming carefully serene as the familiar tone of controlled gentleness seeps back into his voice. The Sehun of last night - the Sehun that’s only brought out amidst the hazy smoke of cigarettes and half-empty whiskey bottles - is long gone, his usual composure taking over by sheer instinct. 

The silence that follows makes him think that Chanyeol has accepted Sehun’s conclusion, so he’s more than a little surprised when he feels a strong hand grip onto his wrist just as he’s about to leave the bed.

"Stay a bit longer. I want you in my arms." Chanyeol rumbles, bringing Sehun to an absolute standstill with the sheer honesty in his words. It makes him feel naked and vulnerable— emotions that he is absolutely not used to experiencing, not since he’d owned his tattoo shop some ten years ago. 

His moment of hesitation is enough for Chanyeol to take advantage of, pulling Sehun back into bed with a quiet pmmf as he lands on the mussed sheets. He should protest, he should get right back out of bed, but—