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It was incredibly rare for Felix to get home and find Chan already there. Their schedules didn’t exactly clash – they both made an effort to be home at the same time, but Chan’s need to overwork won much more frequently than it lost. By the time they’d been sharing their apartment for a year, Felix could count on one hand the number of time’s he’d come home to see Chan’s shoes and bag already by the door. It was welcome, but a surprise nonetheless.
“Hey,” he called out, kicking off his sneakers and dropping his jacket on top of Chan’s duffel. “Channie?”
“Couch!”
Felix walked through and found him exactly there, curled up in the middle, comfortable in the dip between cushions, a blanket over his lap and his laptop open on a draft email. He tipped his head back as Felix walked past, pouting. Felix kissed him obediently, Spiderman style, and felt Chan’s hand slide into his hair and hold him there for a moment, kissing him a little longer, dragging lips and wet tongue. “You’re home early,” Felix said, pulling back just to press a kiss against his chin, his nose, his cheek.
“I got your texts,” Chan murmured, only letting go of Felix’s head when he jerked back in embarrassment.
“Oh,” he said, face scrunching up when Chan turned around fully to look at him the right way up.
“Oh,” Chan repeated. He quirked a brow. “Oh? You text me. Why are you shocked that I read them?”
Because he usually read them on his way home. En route. Whatever garbled messages Felix sent throughout the day could be addressed almost immediately, because Chan only ever looked at his phone after he’d left the studio. Most of the time the messages didn’t need to be addressed at all. They were just a way for Felix to feel like he was talking to Chan, and they were a way for Chan to feel like he was being talked to. Shitty literature for his commute back to their apartment, where Felix was typically already waiting for him.
“Did you read them and then come home?” Felix asked, face still scrunching.
“Yeah,” Chan said. “You sounded down, baby.”
He was down, but that was before he’d come home to find Chan already there.
God, if Chan had come straight home then the messages must have been truly pathetic. Felix couldn’t even remember what he’d said, so he pulled out his phone, glanced at their conversation, then immediately cringed out of it again.
sad
today is
slow
lots of the kids have
no
energy
slow…
oh… there’s no
caramel syrup left
I’ll have to
get
hot chocolate
one of the moms just shouted
at me
then she cried
she’s
getting divorced
I miss you…
I wish
I could come home early
and see
you
work hard channie
I love you
“Sorry,” Felix said, pocketing his phone again. He felt the prickle of heat on his chest and neck that made it clear he was a blotchy red. “I didn’t mean you had to come home early. Everyone has bad days.”
“I know that,” Chan said, frowning slightly. “Don’t apologise. If I can make your bad day a little better then of course I’ll take that opportunity.”
He ducked his head, still red and embarrassed. Chan was too nice for his own good, and Felix was too selfish to be anything other than grateful for it. Coming home to see Chan already there had immediately lifted that stress away. He’d felt lighter as soon as he’d walked in.
It was strange how the longer they were together, the more uneventful true happiness became. Shoes by the door and a blanket on the couch, read messages and a welcome home.
Felix kissed Chan again, the right way around, and was pulled over the back of the couch into his lap, email apparently forgotten as the laptop was shoved aside so Chan could press them as close together as possible, Felix doing everything he could to help.
“I love you,” he said against Chan’s mouth. “Thank you for coming home.”
“I love you too,” Chan said, just as close, as soft. “Thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. I like knowing, even if I can’t do much.”
“This is more than enough.”
Chan smiled and kissed him again. “I’m sure I can think of something else, Lix.”
He was always willing to try, which meant more than any action could.
-
It had been a bad day but not a bad day. There were distinct differences. On bad days Felix came home tired, maybe aching, maybe distracted. He fell asleep early, he struggled to eat dinner, he was restless despite the fatigue. He trusted Chan to cook something nice and pick something for them to watch together. They cuddled. Chan held him like he was precious, and by the morning he’d feel like himself again.
On bad days, Felix came home and went to bed. He woke up when Chan shook him awake and ate whatever was passed to him, still in bed. Then he went back to sleep. He might wake up later, disoriented and upset, or he might sleep through. It depended on the severity. Sometimes it didn’t depend on anything, and it was just one of those awful days when living was more effort than it should be. On those days, Chan was more of a quiet presence. He held Felix and made sure he ate and drank, but did little else. No plans, no questions. He knew that Felix couldn’t take much else. Interaction was almost impossible when he was so focused on the gargantuan task of functioning.
After Felix had spent way too long in the shower, using too much hot water and body wash and rosehip lotion, Chan curled around his back, held onto his waist, and hooked his chin on Felix’s shoulder. He stared at him in the mirror as Felix rubbed serum onto his forehead. “How bad has today been?” Chan asked quietly. “Bad or bad?”
“Just bad,” Felix replied. He used the glass dropper to get a little extra serum onto his fingertips, then rubbed it down the bridge of Chan’s nose and his t-zone. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m fine. So much better already.”
“Which one is this?” Chan asked, sniffing. “Smells good.”
“It’s just for calming. Lots of lavender.”
Chan leant his weight against Felix with a dramatic sigh, laughing when Felix stumbled against the counter with a startled noise. He didn’t let them fall, though. His hands were still anchored on Felix’s waist. “Sorry,” he said, still laughing. “I’m just too relaxed now.”
“You’re such a loser,” Felix complained, unable to stop himself from grinning. If he wanted to, he could lift his feet from the ground and he wouldn’t move. Chan would hold him there, keeping him stable with the grip on his waist. He knew from experience. Chan was sturdy in every way.
“I’m your loser,” Chan corrected. He was smiling so hard that Felix couldn’t resist staring at him in the mirror, even if his own pink face and shiny forehead brought the embarrassment back.
“Thank God,” he said. “Imagine if you were someone else’s loser. They wouldn’t know how to handle it.” And as joking as it was, it was also kind of true. Chan was a mess too, in his own specific way. His bad days were quiet and withdrawn, and his bad days were almost entirely out of sight, which always worried Felix to his core. On Chan’s bad days, Felix didn’t see him at all. He’d hide in the studio or the gym or somewhere he thought he wouldn’t be a burden, and Felix would pick at his fingers until they bled, staring at the door in the dark until it finally opened. They both had bad days and bad days, but they handled it as best they could. Felix knew that on Chan’s bad days he needed sweet food and his hair played with, chatter about nothing and freshly washed sheets. Chan knew that on Felix’s bad days he needed touch more than anything else. Multiple points of contact, reassurance, smiles. Hands on his waist. Chin on his shoulder. Kisses on the side of his neck.
“I don’t want to be anyone else’s loser,” Chan said, punctuating the sentence with a small bite to Felix’s ear lobe. “I like being yours.”
“I like being yours too,” Felix said, still smiling at the mirror like a fool. Like a real loser.
“Good,” Chan said simply. “I won’t let you be anyone else’s.”
He felt his face warm even further and finally looked away from the mirror. It was slightly too much when Chan said things like that, earnest and warm and possessive in a way that made Felix’s stomach clench.
Chan bit his earlobe again, not quite hard enough to hurt. One hand moved from Felix’s waist, under his white shirt to stroke over his stomach, his ribs. “Has today been too bad for this?” he asked, barely audible.
“No,” Felix said immediately, making Chan giggle again. It was such a sweet sound, completely in contrast with the way he tightened his hold and moved his wandering hand further, brushing against Felix’s nipples one by one, just enough to tease at pleasure but nothing more than that.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” Chan said, making eye contact in the mirror. When Felix nodded, Chan pulled his hand out of Felix’s shirt, pulling his shorts down and helping him step out of them. He gripped Felix’s thigh gently, pulling his right leg up until his knee was balanced on the counter, his weight on his left leg, his back arched slightly as he was pressed over the sink. “Okay?”
“Not even on the bed?” Felix asked, like he cared. The countertop was cool against his leg, but with Chan still pressed against his back he was okay. More than okay when Chan reached over to grab the lube that sat next to the mouthwash. Despite the many near misses, they never remembered to move the bottle. Felix was glad for it at that moment, when Chan just shook his head and kissed Felix’s shoulder and pressed two slick fingers against him, into him.
He braced his hands at the back of the sink and let his head drop forward as he adjusted to the stretch. It was a lot but not too much, because he’d rode Chan that morning before work, sleepy, eyes still mostly shut. It was a similar pleasure Felix felt against the counter, slow and building instead of a sudden rush. Chan was careful of his delicate back, not pressing him too hard, not fucking into him with any kind of force. He pressed deep and firm and knew exactly where to curl his fingers, and when Felix moaned, high and reedy as Chan rubbed against his prostate, Chan rubbed again.
Felix reached down for his cock but his hand was grabbed before he could, Chan reaching with the hand previously on his waist, linking their fingers together before he put Felix’s hand where the other one was still braced against the sink.
“Just let me make you feel good,” he said, fucking into Felix again, the steady, wet drag of it almost maddening.
“You do,” Felix whined, head bowing even lower. “Please Channie, please please – “
“Please what?”
His mind was a pink haze. Love and lust and safety and pleasure. “Touch me, fuck me, use me, I don’t know, just do something please.”
“So desperate,” Chan murmured. He pressed another kiss to Felix’s shoulder. “Always so desperate. I should take the edge off for you, shouldn’t I? You won’t be able to settle at all like this.”
Settle? Edge? Felix blinked his eyes open and found his nose almost touching the faucet. His leg ached, still propped against the countertop. “I don’t understand, daddy.”
“That’s okay, baby, you don’t need to understand. You just need to feel good.” Chan pulled his fingers out, and as Felix held himself up and panted, white noise in his ears and honey in his veins, Chan slicked up his cock and pressed inside.
He was big. Felix never truly got used to how good it felt to be stretched and filled by him, how perfectly they fit together, back to chest or front to front, always just right. Chan filled him and Felix made noise he heard as if through a tunnel. His body sang with pleasure.
Chan started to fuck him properly, and just when Felix thought he’d melt from the pleasure of it, Chan used the hand still slick from lube to fist Felix’s cock, tightening his grip every time he thrust forward.
Felix sobbed. Through the fog of it all he wished he had the strength to turn around and kiss Chan properly. He wanted to press closer. He wanted to live in Chan’s chest, safe beneath his ribs, guarding his gentle heart. He wanted to make Chan feel as good as Chan made him feel. Always.
“You’d be wet even without the lube,” Chan said absentmindedly, jacking Felix off with the same steady rhythm he’d used to finger him open. Relentless. “My sweet boy, always so ready and willing.”
Felix groaned deep in his throat and pushed back as much as he could – not much. Chan’s hand anchored his waist again, grip slightly too tight. The slap of their skin bounced off the tiles. My sweet boy. He was.
“Say it,” Chan whispered.
“I’m your sweet boy,” Felix managed, somehow. He didn’t know how to say anything else, only what Chan told him to.
“You are,” Chan agreed, light and sweet, completely at odds with the way he was fucking Felix. “You’re going to come, baby, and then you’re going to watch a movie with me on the couch, and you’re going to relax. Okay?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Come then,” Chan said, doting. “Come for daddy.”
He did, into the circle of Chan’s fist, hard enough that he shook. It pulsed through him, below his stomach and behind his eyelids, and only when his shaking turned to faint tremors did Chan pull out and leave him bereft. Felix blinked his eyes open and tried to focus. He made a questioning noise, but Chan was too focused on getting Felix’s leg off the counter to notice.
“Take it slow,” he said, hand on Felix’s knee as he manoeuvred it slowly. “Does your back hurt at all?”
Chan was always so good at this part. He never asked anything complicated – Felix wouldn’t have understood. Could barely understand this, but for Chan he tried, taking stock of his body. His inner knee hurt from being pressed against the cold quartz. His left leg was sore from holding most of his weight. His bottom lip was raw from his teeth. His back was fine. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”
Once both of his feet were firmly on the ground, Chan turned him around and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good. Do you feel okay?”
He nodded. “You’re still hard.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Chan kissed his cheek again, then moved Felix slightly to the side so that he could reach the sink and wash his hands.
Felix watched his come slip down the drain, forlorn. “Don’t worry?” he repeated, slowly coming back to himself. “I’m not worried. I want you to come.”
“I can’t yet,” Chan said. He dried his hands on the hanging towel and then tugged his sweatpants up. “Come on, let’s go sit.”
Felix followed obediently, and only when he was standing by the couch and Chan was laying out their blankets did he realise – “I forgot my shorts.”
Chan shook his head. “You don’t need them.”
He felt himself flush again, a sure sign he was back in his body. “What do you mean I don’t need them? I’m still covered in lube!”
“That’s what the blankets are for,” Chan said. “It’s why I haven’t come.”
Before Felix could get more flustered and ask more questions, Chan tugged him down onto the couch, onto his lap. Felix quietened immediately. He stilled. Chan was still hard beneath his sweatpants. It was pure instinct to melt against him, tilt his head back on Chan’s shoulder and nose at the sweet curls of his hair.
Chan laughed softly. His hands returned to Felix’s waist like they belonged there. “Do you want to try, baby? Keep me nice and warm, relax for a little while? You don’t have to think about anything, you don’t have to do anything.”
“But you get sensitive,” Felix said, his only real objection. Chan had a lot of sensory issues, whether it was sound or touch. Something beeping because of a low battery could have him wincing with his ears covered, a label scratching his neck could have him itching his skin raw. He struggled to stay inside Felix for any length of time after he came, as much as they both enjoyed the thought of it. Too much, he’d said once, trying anxiously to describe it and not upset Felix, always so conscious of that. It’s like lightning, but not the good type. And Felix hadn’t pushed it after that. Horny wants would never be more important than Chan’s comfort.
“I think I’ll be okay as long as I don’t come,” he said, thumbing over Felix’s hip bones. “We can only try, right? If it doesn’t work or one of us doesn’t like it then we can stop.”
Felix couldn’t pretend he didn’t want it. Cockwarming was – sometimes he obsessed over it. The thought of being so close to Chan that there really was no way to be closer. The thought of being locked together, of him pleasuring Chan and being pleasured in one constant, steady act instead of intervals of sex whenever they found time around their busy lives. Just existing. Entwined. “I want to,” Felix admitted, barely audible even to himself.
Chan turned to kiss him, chaste, and used one hand to push Felix’s hips up so that he could reach beneath with his other hand, pulling his sweats down low enough to get his cock out. Felix couldn’t see, couldn’t bring himself to lift his head from Chan’s shoulder, but the heat of him pressing inside again was enough to make him moan, an oddly defeated sound as Chan lowered his hips again, settling Felix back onto his lap fully.
They stayed there for a moment in silence.
It felt good. It always felt good with Chan, but this was good in a new way. Felix wasn’t hard, wasn’t waiting to be fucked anymore. Chan had taken the edge off, just as he’d said, and the weight of him inside Felix felt comforting in a way he hadn’t expected. He was still turned on, balancing on the edge of arousal, but more than that he just felt good, down to his core. Warm and wet exactly where he belonged, in Chan’s lap, making him feel good.
“How is it?” Chan asked, voice low. He rubbed one thumb against Felix’s hipbone again, the other reaching for the TV remote.
Felix thought for a moment and found it difficult again. Even more difficult than when he’d been pressed over the counter. His tongue was heavy, fingertips tingling. “Feels so nice.”
Chan hummed. “It does.” He shifted slightly and Felix moaned, startled by the sudden rush of pleasure, only for it to stop again as Chan moved again, changing the angle so that he was no longer grazing Felix’s prostate. “Sorry, baby,” he said when Felix moaned again, less from pleasure and more from disappointment. “If you keep tightening around me like that I’ll come and we won’t be able to do this for any length of time.”
Felix settled, frowning, but he still kissed Chan’s finger when he reached up to trace the edge of Felix’s pout.
After another moment, Chan turned his attention to the TV and picked out a movie Felix couldn’t focus his eyes on. He paid attention to evening his breathing instead, relaxing entirely like Chan wanted him to. He started to slip in and out of himself, unaware of the scenes of the movie changing, the setting, the characters, the plot itself. It must have been a really bad movie because Chan only laughed a couple of times, and even then it was barely a huff of air. Each laugh made Felix twitch, but he settled again when Chan’s grip on his hip tightened in a warning.
After a while he gave up on the movie entirely and closed his eyes, returning his head to Chan’s neck to breathe in the familiar scent of him.
“You really like it,” Chan said an indefinite amount of time later. He’d started to soften after a while, which was an indescribable feeling, but as Felix had continued to relax he’d hardened again, clearly enjoying how much Felix was enjoying it. “Baby, you like it this much?”
“Mm,” Felix hummed. If he’d had the strength to open his eyes he would have seen Chan staring down at him with an expression of tenderness he typically reserved for when Felix was asleep, but Felix couldn’t manage to look up. His body felt like lead, his eyes just as heavy. “Do you like it too?”
“You know I do.”
“I like being daddy’s toy,” he murmured. “You can use me whenever you like. I’ll always want it, daddy. Want to make you feel good always.”
Chan bit back a moan, and though he didn’t open his eyes, Felix felt himself smile when Chan’s hips jerked up, a small, helpless movement.
“Are you going to fuck me now, daddy? Are you gonna come?”
“We’ve only been here half an hour,” Chan said, almost apologetic.
Felix patted around until he found one of Chan’s hands and linked their fingers together. “It’s long enough,” he said, eyes still closed. “I feel so good. It’s time for you to feel good too.”
He must have been a lot closer than Felix thought, because Chan flipped them almost immediately, Felix landing on his back on the blankets, eyes flying open just in time for Chan to push his knees to his chest and fuck into him hard and fast and ruthless, the first time that night he’d been doing anything for his own pleasure.
“I love you,” Felix said, the one thing always clear in the haze.
“Fuck, I love you too,” Chan said, reaching down to cup his face. “Love you more than anything.”
“Want you to come in me,” Felix said, covering Chan’s hand with his own, holding it against his face. His body was getting sore now, cramping and raw and oversensitive, and it was perfect. “Please, daddy, come in me. I wanna feel it, I want it.”
Chan ground against Felix and came deep, pulsing and hot as his chest heaved beneath his shirt. He was still mostly clothed. Felix’s white sleep shirt had seen better days. He’d never felt so sated in his life. Chan flopped on top of him gently, with a not so gentle groan. “Bad day good now?”
Felix laughed and petted a hand through his hair, coming back to himself again. “Yes, Mr Caveman.” Then quieter, more sincere, “Thank you, daddy.”
Chan kissed the base of his throat. “I enjoyed it too, no need to thank me.”
Even if there wasn’t a need there was a want. It wasn’t lost on Felix that Chan had suggested it as a way to get Felix out of his own head. It wasn’t lost on him that Chan had come home early and had probably spent a considerable chunk of the afternoon thinking about it, planning how best to approach it. Meticulous as he always was when it came to giving Felix what he wanted. “We need to try something you want next time you’re having a bad day,” Felix murmured. “Any suggestions?”
Chan cocked his head. “Not really, not right now. Maybe we can talk about it after dinner, see what sounds good to both of us.”
Dinner and a discussion sounded nice. Felix would need another shower first, and Chan would probably have to join him. Then takeout, depending on how floppy they both were. Then back to the couch, fresh blankets down, for another shitty movie they wouldn’t focus on, talking about all the sex they were mostly too exhausted to have on workdays. “Channie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we do this again sometime?”
Chan smiled. “Of course we can. Next time you want it, text me. You know I’ll come straight home.”