#sub!chris

Chris figured he'd be delivering to some kind of event when the order for ten pizzas came through - five pepperoni and five cheese, instructions on the box to park anywhere on the street, and an invitation to walk right in as the doorbell wouldn't be heard over the music.

He knew he had the right place when he pulled onto the street and saw the slew of cars lined up along the sidewalk, the music permeating through the windows of his Honda Accord even from several houses down. He found a spot to park, cutting the engine and scooped up as many pizzas as he could, which was about half of the stack.

He made his way up the driveway, his sneakers scraping against the cement. You were just throwing open your door to see if any newcomers had shown up when you almost ran into Chris, who had a heap of pizza boxes cradled in his arms.

"Oh! Do you need help with that?" You offered, watching him juggle them all.

"Nah, you're good, ma'am. Just let me know where to set them," Chris replied before following you inside.

"Thank you! I hope it wasn't too much trouble trying to find parking," you called behind you, the loud music drowning out your voice. Chris couldn't help but to notice the sway of your hips as he trailed behind you.

"All good," Chris muttered back. You led him into the kitchen, showing him where to set the pizzas down. He placed them down on the counter next to red solo cups and shot glasses. "Having a party?" Chris asked, making light conversation, a little jealous that he was working tonight instead of out at some house party.

"Yeah, I just graduated school," you nodded, studying his handsome features in the dim lighting.

"Oh, cool. Congrats," he replied, the feeling of your eyes on him making him blush a bit. "I'm gonna go grab the rest!" He shouted over the music, giving you a sweet smile and a nod before turning away to retrieve the rest of the pizza. You watched him vanish into the crowd, missing him already.

"Who's the pizza boy? He's cute," your friend Stacy commented, appearing behind you out of nowhere.

"I don't know. I didn't catch his name. He is cute, isn't he?" You replied, searching the sea of drunk college students for him carrying another stack of pizza, intending to do whatever you could to get him to stay. Stacy disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared when a nearby cluster of people announced they were taking shots and asked who else wanted one.

A few minutes later, the pizza boy re-emerged from the crowd, re-tracing his steps back to your kitchen with the other five boxes. He placed them down on the cluttered granite, his blue eyes sweeping over your tight black dress, his gaze pausing on all your best assets.

The way he checked you out didn't go unnoticed or unreciprocated by you.

"So, Chris," you said, glancing down at his nametag. "You like to party?" You smiled at him with a glint in your eye, hoping he'd entertain your subtle invitation.

"'Course I do," he chuckled back, "but I have a job to get back to or my boss is gonna be on my ass all night."

"Can't stay for just a little?" You pouted, tilting your head slightly to the left, hoping your charm would be enough of a convincing argument.

He shook his head, but the little smirk he gave you told you he really wanted to. "Your total is $124.78, ma'am," Chris told you, glancing down at the receipt and getting back to business.

You reached for your clutch sitting beside the pizza boxes, rifling through your cash when you realized you only had $125. You nervously bit your lip before glancing up at Chris. "I don't have much for a tip. I'm so sorry. Shit. I thought I had more," you apologized, genuinely feeling bad and embarrassed that you hadn't done your math correctly.

Chris couldn't hide the fact that he was slightly annoyed with you. Afterall, it's not like your house was just around the corner from the shop, and it was an order for ten pizzas, but he didn't make a big deal of it. "It's cool," he shrugged, taking the cash you did have. "Have a good night, ma'am."

"Wait, Chris. D'you smoke?" You asked him, still talking loudly over the music. He paused, wondering why you were asking.

"Yeah, I smoke," he casually answered, which was an understatement.

"I mean, I don't have any cash, but I could smoke you out? I have some weed upstairs," you offered, a last ditch effort to get the pizza boy alone in your room.

His face lit up. "Hell, that's better than a tip," he responded unable to contain his smile.

Chris was giddy. He had all he could ever want in this moment - some weed, time alone with a pretty girl who couldn't stop ogling him, and an excuse to stay longer at your party.

You grabbed his hand, practically pulling him upstairs. You heard the music grow quieter, the walls dampening the sound as the two of you made your way down the long hallway to your bedroom. You drew him inside, tugging the door shut behind you.

"Wow. I like your room," Chris told you, his eyes grazing the posters on your walls and the fairy lights that were twinkling back at him.

"Thanks," you responded, heading over towards your vanity, reaching into the top drawer where you kept your weed, your grinder, and your rolling papers. You plopped down on the pink stool and started grinding up a considerable amount of weed while Chris browsed the knick knacks on your dresser, trying to get a feel for your personality through the way you dressed up your bedroom.

"So, Chris. What do you like to do for fun?" You asked him, twisting the weed up into the joint paper.

"I like parties," he smiled over at you. "I also like going on drives, going to the beach, playing video games, listening to music."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" You asked him, being rather direct. You licked the joint sealed, dragging your tongue along the seam with your eyes locked on his from across the room.

"No, I don't," he smirked, feeling the sexual tension in the air thicken.

"Open that window for me," you directed Chris, motioning towards the window to his left. He nodded obediently, sliding open the glass a bit, the fresh air rolling in. He took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands off on the front of his jeans and praying the cold breeze would keep him from getting hard.

You held the joint up in front of you, showing it to Chris with a smile. You stood up from your vanity and sauntered over to your bed, your heels clicking across the hardwood before collapsing down onto your mattress.

You held eye contact with Chris as you put the joint to your lips and lit it, the flame engulfing the tip of the paper. You suggestively patted the empty spot beside you on your bed. "Sit," you purred, the words coming out as more of a command than an invitation.

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, feeling his face grow hot. He sat down beside you, watching you wrap your lips around the joint and take a long, slow drag before passing it off to him. He took it from you, your fingers softly brushing against his, making him swoon.

He held the joint to his lips and took a hit, the muscles in his shoulders immediately relaxing as he exhaled. The smoke billowed from his pink lips that you couldn't stop staring at. He passed it back to you.

"You like being told what to do, don't you?" You replied in a more seductive voice, placing a hand on his knee and scooting closer to him, making him harden immediately. He blushed, peering down at your long pink acrylic nails and imagining how'd they feel running along the underside of his cock.

He didn't have to say anything to answer your question.

You noticed the bulge forming in his jeans, and you started to move higher on his pant leg, watching his jaw fall slack. You took a hit of the weed before you looked him directly in the eye. "Take off your shirt." Your voice was quiet and sweet, yet demanding and dominant.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded as he tugged the uniform off over his head, leaving him in a white tank top. Chris looked up at you with heavily-lidded bedroom eyes, eager to hear your next command.

"Take this off, too," you smirked, playfully tugging on the hem of the fabric. He listened, pulling it off and discarding it on your bedroom floor. You took another puff before passing Chris back the joint. You placed a hand on his chest, the tips of your fingernails grazing him and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You leaned in and started to kiss him on the neck, your soft lips working over his warm skin. He let out a shaky exhale, blood rushing to his cock and making it twitch as you continued your path down his stomach and towards his waistband with your wandering hand.

Chris tilted his head, letting it fall to the side to give you better access, but he kept his eyes on your nails as you slowly undid his belt. You unbuttoned his jeans with one hand and lowered his zipper, revealing his black boxers underneath while you left a trail of wet kisses from his ear lobe across his jawline.

You traced the outline of the tip of his cock through the soft fabric of his underwear, making him whimper. He was so overcome by lust that he'd nearly forgotten about the joint in his left hand, but he took a drag off of it upon remembering it.

He lifted his hips as you tugged at the waistband of his pants and his boxers, pulling them down far enough to free his length. Your eyes widened as his heavy cock slapped against his stomach, leaving behind a small wet spot on his tummy from where he'd already started leaking precum.

"Poor thing. So easily turned on. You already made such a mess," you cooed softly, starting at the base of his cock with your nails and gently dragging them along his shaft. It twitched as you ran them along all his most prominent veins.

A lustful sigh fell from his lips as he melted into the bed and further into and your touch. You continued to tease him, repeating this motion with your nails as you softly sucked on the sensitive skin in the crook of his neck.

"Your nails are so pretty," he whispered, watching them dance over his length. He took another hit, feeling light-headed and dazed from the weed and your caress. You chuckled into his ear, loving the power you held over him and how easy it was to get him to submit to you.

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, and you started to stroke up and down, keeping your movements controlled and drawn out. You squeezed him on the upstroke, and he moaned in response, more of the clear liquid pooling at his slit. His face contorted into a look of pleasure, his brow furrowing and his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

You swiped your thumb over his swollen tip that was begging for attention, and he shivered beneath you, his breath hitching in his throat. With your free hand, you tilted Chris face towards you, softly caressing his jaw. He locked eyes with you, a look of desperstion and desire staring back at you.

"Feel good?" You purred under your breath, watching him try to keep himself composed. He swallowed hard, his breath growing shallow as he nodded in response. "Want me to make it feel even better?"

"Yes. Please," he whispered, his mind swirling with possibilities, wondering how you could possibly make him feel any better than you already were.

Before he knew it, you were settling on your knees between his legs. His mouth fell open, and he tipped his head back when he felt you lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, moving slowly and deliberately.

"Oh, my god," he whispered, his free hand instinctively flying up and tangling itself in your hair. You flicked your tongue over the underside of the head, making him gasp before you tucked him behind your lips, softly suckling on his sensitive tip and cleaning up the bit of precum that was smeared on it.

By now, he'd completely forgotten about the joint. The cherry had gone out, but he still held the rolling paper in his grasp, too focused on the soft, wet, smooth sensation of your mouth to be concerned with it at all. You continued to swirl your tongue around the head as you nursed on his tip, his breathing and moaning filling the room.

"Good boy," you praised him for how responsive he was, and he throbbed in your hand, almost losing it immediately. He writhed beneath you, a whine escaping his lips. "What's the matter?" You purred, your voice laced with faux sympathy, giving him a little pout.

He looked at you with his glazed over eyes, the knot in his stomach threatening to come undone at your words. You continued to stroke him, slipping him back behind your lips.

He mindlessly lifted his hips, feeding you more of his cock, chasing the feeling of your mouth like he couldn't live without it. He ran his fingers through your hair, more whimpers unfurling from him, his heart stuttering in his chest as you bobbed up and down. You hummed around his shaft, smirking as he started to squirm beneath you.

You pumped your hand back and forth over the lower bit of his length that you couldn't fit into your mouth, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He tightened his grip on your hair, not forcing you down, but anchoring himself to something as he started to cum.

"Your mouth.." he started off, his voice trailing off as it shifted into a whimper, pleasure flooding his system. His cock started to twitch in your mouth, his warm, silky seed painting your tongue white. "Thank you. Thank you," he murmured in between moans as you swallowed.

He reached the finish line, fireworks going off in his empty head, but you didn't stop. You continued slinking your lips up and down his spent cock, your tongue fluttering over his highly sensitive tip. He gasped at the overstimulation.

Your lips curled into a mischevious smile around his thickness as you continued your ministrations. "Too much," he whimpered, his voice breaking in desire. "I can't take any more."

You were determined to test those limits, still working your mouth over all his overwhelmed nerve-endings and listening to the sweet sounds he made. His fingers were still threaded into your hair, and he tightened his grip, instinctively trying to pull you off due to the intense sensation.

You didn't faulter. You pumped his cock back and forth a few more times, your lips slipping up and down every prominent vein. You drew your lips back up to his tip, suckling on his mushroom-shaped head until he was a trembling mess beneath you.

"So sensitive," he whispered. "Please. No more."

You finally pulled off of him with a pop. You swiped your thumb over his tip a final time, listening to him gasp and hiss through his teeth, his hips stuttering from the intense sensation.

"Wow," he chuckled, his breath still ragged and his heartbeat irregular, a ringing sounding in his ears as his blood pumped back to the rest of his body. He could barely think, but he still flashed you a satisfied smile as he looked up at you through his glossed over vision. You smirked down at him, watching him try to recover, taking pride in just how beautifully you'd made him fall apart.

"Again, I'm really sorry I didn't have enough to tip-" you started to apologize again before he'd even put his dick away. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'd bring you free pizza for life after that. Don't apologize for anything," he playfully responded, stuffing his cock back into his pants. "That was amazing."

Chan is already regretting inviting Seungmin over.

Not because he doesn’t love Seungmin - Chan loves all of his members so much that the weight of it consumes him sometimes - but because he forgot that Seungmin is a lightweight, so susceptible to the Asian flush that Chan’s almost certain that Seungmin could take a sniff of one of their shitty beers and feel a little tipsy.

Chan invited him over after one of the longest recording sessions they’ve had in a while, telling Seungmin he deserves a chance to relax, to destress. The producing program had fought him the entire time, so he needed to relax, too. He’s pretty sure the program was actually eating the MIDI tracks by the end of their night, which had him two seconds away from tearing his own hair out. It never helped that Seungmin was a perfectionist and needed to record his lines over and over and over until the line didn’t sound like real words to them anymore. The program ate his “perfect” line one too many times, and Chan honestly can’t believe they actually managed to record a line that Seungmin liked that didn’t get eaten by the recording program immediately afterwards.

So maybe, just maybe, Chan had been stressed out enough to have forgotten about Seungmin’s alcohol intolerance. He was already starting to feel the pleasant buzz of alcohol under his skin by the time he realized that Seungmin was getting a little too loopy to only be one and a half beers in. But he had shrugged it off - Seungmin’s kind of strange in the first place - and kept passing him drinks when he finished his. No harm, really, because both of them are tucked into his dorm, and he wouldn’t mind having a sleepover with his dongsaeng. He knows that Seungmin misses the bustle of the old dorm, where all of them were packed in together. Misses the easy warmth that came along with it, how he could curl up next to someone and no one would breathe a word about it. Seungmin’s not good about asking for what he needs, much like Chan, and Chan knows that it was easier to not have to ask at all before.

…plus, Seungmin’s more clingy when he’s a little tipsy. He’s got his legs splayed over Chan’s now on the couch, and he’s playing with the hem of Chan’s hoodie aimlessly, rolling it between his fingers. Chan lets himself be a little greedy, and bask in the comfort of his dongsaeng being so willing to be near him so easily. 

At least, it was comfortable. Until Seungmin stops scrolling on his phone, tugging on Chan’s hoodie with more intention now. 

“Hyung.”

Chan gives him a look, already knowing something was up. “Yes, Seungmin, I would still love you if you’re a worm-”

“Hyung, no! I have a more important question for you.” Seungmin interrupts and oh no.

Seungmin’s got that evil glint in his eye that lets Chan know he’s got a bad idea. Sober Seungmin would never miss a chance to tease him, and a loose-lipped, definitely drunk Seungmin is somehow worse. Chan braces himself for impact, giving him his best deadpan stare through the haze of his own tipsiness. 

“Have you heard of petplay?”

Seungmin says with a grin that already makes Chan feel hot under the collar. Even if he has no idea what it is, that look tells him everything he needs to know.

“No, I hav-”

“It's this sex thing.” 

Chan sighs deeply, shaking his head.

“Why am I not surprised? Go on.” 

After all these years he knows Seungmin. He knows that drunk hangouts often lead to risqué topics just because Seungmin thinks it's funny and somehow got it into his head that Chan was all knowing when it came to sex. At least now he's not expecting Chan to explain it. 

“Pretty self explanatory really. ‘Pet’ and ‘play’. Someone acts like a pet and the other is like… their master.” 

Seungmin chuckles drunkenly and holds up his phone way too close to Chan's face. The older has to grab his wrist to pull it back so he can make any sense of what he's showing him. It's a video. A guy with puppy ears and a tail is on his knees, looking up into the camera. He's seemingly rutting against someone's shoe, tongue poking out from between his lips. Chan thanks whoever's up there that the video is muted. His face is already turning red, heat spreading throughout his stomach. That was….new. 

“Do you regularly watch porn on your phone while we hang out?”

He says as calmly as he can. If this turns into one of those “bro-y” moments where they watch porn together and pretend they're not turned on he'll have to go die in a ditch. This was just his dongsaeng teasing him, nothing more. 

Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“No. Duh. I just remembered our old Redlights performance. You know, where we all were on leashes? Turns out it's a whole fetish.” 

Chan groans and hides his face in his hands. 

“Why would you bring that up… it was so long ago.”

He mumbles into his palms. Seungmin has a shit eating grin on his lips, happy that his topic of conversation is having the desired effect. 

“Hey, Stays loved it. Do you think our stylists would do something like it again?”

He chuckles. 

Chan pulls back his hands to give Seungmin a deadpan glare.

“If you bring it up I'll place a JYP standee in your room while you sleep. No.”

Seungmin just laughs drunkenly, way too happy with himself. Chan can't lose to him. 

“Aren't you a little too into this? The puppy branding got into your head, huh?” 

He teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Puppy Seungmin is so horny he can't help but watch porn with his hyung in the room~”

Chan hums, tone sickly sweet. He feels Seungmin’s thighs twitch where they lay in his lap, eyebrows furrowed in mock irritation. Seungmin definitely didn't like that. Not at all. 

“N-no!” Seungmin yelps, “Yah, you’re as bad as Minho-hyung! I’m not a puppy. If anything, you’re the wolf in heat! Always flashing your tits for Stays like a dog begging for praise. Channie wants a treat, huh?”

Chan flusters, suddenly very glad that Seungmin’s ranting more to the ceiling than to him. He hopes the red on his face can be excused by alcohol if Seungmin looks over. Not because he’s into that kind of thing, or anything. But it’s a little embarrassing to be having this kind of conversation with his dongsaeng, especially one who loves to drag a bit out until it’s long dead.

Yeah, that’s why Chan’s mind is racing. He’s only imagining himself as the boy in the video because Seungmin is making him, talking about all this “wolf in heat” stuff. He needs to put a stop to this before Seungmin gets carried away.

“You’re quiet because I’m right!” Seungmin says proudly, pointing an accusatory finger “at” Chan (or at the space next to Chan’s head - the world’s a little blurry right now).

“Seungmin, seriously-”

“Channie likes being a good boy.”

It’s as if lightning strikes his body. Chan squeaks, an unbecoming sound, whole body jolting, almost knocking Seungmin’s legs off of his. If Seungmin thought he was some all-knowing sex god before, he’s just reduced himself back to blushing virgin. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are on fire, and he’s not drunk enough to play that kind of red off. He can feel it burning like magma under his skin, going down, down, down until he’s certain that it’s painted his neck a blotchy red, too.

Seungmin, bless him, is still giggling away, eyes wide and mouth curled into that evil little smile of his. Chan can’t look at him, can’t perceive him, not when his mind is still reeling from how easily Seungmin made this about him.

“Kim Seungmin-”

“Don’t full name me, puppy boy~” Seungmin sings, delighted with himself, “I’m the hyung now! Puppy shouldn’t be so mean to his-hic! His…his…uhhhh…I forgot what I was sayin’, hyung.”

Seungmin sends him a sheepish, dazed grin, and Chan is so, so glad that Seungmin is drunk right now. Hopefully drunk enough to have forgotten this entire conversation by the morning, fingers crossed. Which makes him feel less bad when he opens his mouth to dig right back into Seungmin, because Chan’s lips are a little loose too, and he can’t be the only one who’s feeling humiliated in the room.

“Oh c’mon Seungmo, we both know who the real puppy is,” Chan coos, bringing a hand down to pinch at Seungmin’s cheek lovingly, “You’re the one who showed hyung the video, you know. Bet that’s why you like when we manhandle you a bit, too. Just a silly dog who needs to be put in his place.”

Seungmin opens and closes his mouth as he tries to find the words through his drunken daze. That definitely didn’t affect him in any way. He didn’t twitch in his pants and he didn’t shiver. Chan was being a total bully and Seungmin doesn’t like being bullied because why would anyone? The younger man swallows dryly, turning his face away from him. 

Chan chuckles mischievously, happy to have the upper hand so easily, and grabs Seungmin's chin, shaking his head side to side. 

“Poor mutt can’t think? Awh…” 

He pouts mockingly, but he can’t hide the affection in his eyes. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s drunk and flustered. Seungmin's hands feel clammy as they push Chans away with a huff. His head spins from the shaking, everything looking more and more blurry by the second. 

“You’re a- a dickhead. It’s uhhh… hyungs fault. Changbin- Changbin hyung is just funny to piss off.” 

He says oh so very convincingly. Chan just giggles, reaching up to pet his hair. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night man.”

Seungmin can’t help but pout, turning his face away to hide his painfully obvious flush. 

“Changbin hyung is definitely into it though. He gets like, excited when I say stuff?”

He mumbles in an attempt to change the topic. Chan snorts in laughter, nodding. 

“Do you still have that bruise from a few days ago?”

Seungmin groans and shows off the branding that’s still apparent on his wrist in the clear shape of the rapper's handprint. 

“He’s the biggest freak. I think he only works out so he can throw people around.” 

He huffs.

“Oh absolutely.”

And they keep talking the night away until they fall asleep, both drunken heaps on the floor. Neither of them bring up the petplay thing after that, but they both think about it. What it would be like. What it would feel like. If their partners would indulge them. Purely out of fascination of course, definitely not for any other reasons…

Links to Seungmin | Bang Chan