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The sign above the pub flickered to life in the amber light of dusk, the muted sound of music waiting to spiral out like smoke once the door was opened. Patrons, regulars by the looks of them, spread across the old pub lazily sipping at drinks, smoke curling in the air above the few who were sitting in the corner with a couple cigars. A juke box sat by the end of the bar, old and weathered but still putting out base heavy music that rattles the bones.
At the far end of the pub, the wall was lined with a few dart boards and TVs playing the latest sporting reels. And just in front of the TVs and dart boards was a pool table. An ample crowd gathered around the pool table, and the echo of the cue ball hitting the other balls was loud enough to hear over both the music and quiet chatter of the few conversing patrons of the pub.
Chan took a deep breath, coughing slightly when he felt the smoke in his lungs. He’d just arrived in town, his company was sending him on a business trip to settle a deal with an artist that JYP wanted to sign, and this town was his last stop before reaching his destination. And rather than to sit in his dilapidated motel room with nothing but shitty cable and even shittier vending machine options, he’d settled on visiting the only pub in town for a drink that would hopefully be strong enough to knock him out until dawn. So far, luck was on his side as a stool at the bar freed up. He sat down and leaned forward to signal the bar tender for an order.
“Hello stranger, welcome to 3rd Eye. Name’s Isadora, what can I get for you…?”
“Oh, erm. Chan, and your strongest whiskey on the rocks would be great, thanks.”
“You got it, darlin. One of our strongest whiskeys on the rocks, coming right up.”
She stepped away to go fix his drink and Chan was left to ponder. The smoke he’d choked on not even two minutes ago was an afterthought now, and the base heavy music had begun to settle deep within his chest like a comforting hug. He could feel dozens of eyes staring into his back like pinpricks along his spine.
Isadora returns with a glass of whiskey, on the rocks, and sets it down before Chan with a pleasant grin, before resuming their conversation.
“So, what brings you to District 9? We aren’t exactly a tourist attraction.”
“Work,” Chan sighed. “Just stopping here to rest for the night and leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Ahh, that makes sense,” she nodded. “So, what is it that you do, darlin? What kind of business has you all the way out here?”
“I’m a producer, I work at JYP Entertainment, and I was sent by JYP himself to sign on an artist that’s made a lot of noise on the internet lately.”
Isadora whistled lowly.
“Got damn, you must be worth a fortune. I thought you might be, you know, considering.” She looked him up and down, a smirk tilting the corners of her lips, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“Is it that obvious?” He mumbled. His ears felt warm as he fidgeted with his glass.
“Honey, you stick out like a sore thumb in your Fendi and Gucci.”
Chan groaned defeatedly under his breath. No wonder everyone was staring at him – he was completely out of place. An oddity in cashmere, pressed jeans and fine Italian leather.
“Don’t mind the gawking, these folks would goggle at a goose if given the chance – not a whole lot of here-here, if you catch my drift.”
Chan took a hefty sip of whiskey, reveling in the burn in the back of his throat. Isadora stepped away to take another patron’s order and Chan used that momentary lapse in conversation to observe the rest of the pub. A few people were seated in the booths and tables in the front of the pub, and for a Friday evening it really wasn’t too terribly busy. The majority of the crowd seemed to gather in the back near the dart boards, TVs and pool table. A group of four men loitered around the pool table. They were loud, exuberant. Vivacious.
The first to stand out to Chan, was a man with blonde curls and a soft looking sweater that was clearly too big for his frame. The sleeves hung down over his hands as he watched two of the men play pool. He had the biggest, warmest smile Chan had ever seen on another man, and he could only describe the man as sunshine incarnate. He was beautiful, and Chan knew Hyunjin would consider him to be ethereal like an angel.
The man next to him was taller by a few centimeters and had unique characteristics. His longer auburn hair fell in fluffy waves to his shoulders, framing a face with sharp cheek bones and a foxlike grin. His broad shoulders were wrapped in a jean jacket that looks as if it’s seen its fair share of historical events. And when he laughed at whatever one of his friends said, his eyes closed in a squint that made Chan want to wrap him up in bubble wrap and protect him from the cruelties of the world.
Chan’s eyes then turned towards the two who were playing pool. The taller of the two, and coincidentally the one who made the foxlike boy laugh so adorably, bent over the table to aim, his black hair fell into his eye line and he blew it out of the way with an eyeroll. He paused, looking super concentrated before aiming and hitting the cue ball. A smirk unraveled on his lips when it did whatever it was supposed to. When he stood up, it was obvious that he was the tallest of the four men, though, not the broadest of shoulders, nor the thickest of arms. The shirt he wore, though it looked well-worn in the softest and most comfortable of ways, hung off his frame in swathes of fabric. His baggy jeans had a few holes around the thighs and knees, whether they were intended as a fashion statement or caused by regular wear and tear was unknown to Chan, but regardless, it seemed to work for him.
Chan audibly gulped when his eyes fell on the last man.
He was the shortest of the group, was the first thought to appear in his mind. The second, fuck, he’s unfairly hot. And objectively, he was. His silver and blue hair with the undercut on the side, let alone his shoulders that were wider than the bloody Grand Canyon. Metaphorically speaking. And Jesus, his waist. His arms! Even wrapped in a leather jacket, it was glaringly obvious that the man took pride in his physical appearance and the physical requirements to keep it looking this droolworthy. Because he was – droolworthy, that is. Chan wanted to die between his pecs. He couldn’t see his thighs from here, but he assumed he would want to die between them as well. What a way it would be to go too.
Then the man rounded the edge of the table so he could bend over and aim and – holy fuck.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mark the exact moment in time that Christopher Chahn Bahng has left this mortal plane. Unfortunately, he did not die between that gorgeous man’s pecs or thighs as he wished but instead was marked as DOA due to extenuating circumstances. Those circumstances being seeing that attractive man’s equally impressive ass wrapped in tight leather pants. Time of Death – 6:58 PM KST. Yep.
Chan was a fucking goner.
“See something, or should I say, someone you like, darlin?”
Chan nearly choked on the spit pooling in his mouth as he turned to look back at Isadora. A shit eating grin plastered across her face from catching him ogling her local clientele.
“Ooohhhh, you do!” She cackled gleefully, leaning over the bar top to prop her chin on her fists. “So, who is it? Oh! Let me guess! Hmmm…Well, you don’t seem like the type who wants to bottom from the top, so Felix is definitely out of the running.”
Chan choked on his whiskey. Again.
“Also, you may be blonde, but I highly doubt blondes are your type. No offense,” she scoffed. “Now then…unless you want Seungmin to make your life hell on Earth, you’ll be smart to stay far, far away from Innie. And vice versa honestly. Innie may look like a cutie pie, but he can be a cunning fox when it comes to people touching what’s his, and Seungminnie is definitely his.
“Annnddd based on how you basically eye-fucked him earlier, my money is on Changbin.”
Changbin. Fuck. Putting a name to the gorgeous face was perhaps worse than not knowing. It was certifiably world ending. How the fuck was he supposed to stand up, go back to his dilapidated motel room and pretend that man doesn’t exist now that he knows his name? Even worse…how was he supposed to get up and walk over to them and introduce himself to them?!
“Hey, I’m just passing through your shit town, and I have no clue how to play…whatever it is you’re doing, but do you mind if I watch? And while I’m at it, can I suck your dick?”
Hell. No.
Chan was absolutely not in the mood to make a complete and utter fool of himself, thank you very much. Not when – oh fuck. The blonde one was literally headed straight for him, what the fuck does he do now?!
“Felixie! Babe! Need another round?” Isadora grinned as Felix stopped beside Chan.
“Yes please, Isa, two piss waters on draft, one whiskey, and a peach soju please!” Felix winked at Isadora before turning to Chan with a friendly smile. “Hello! You’re new here, right? My name is Felix.”
“Erm, Chan,” Chan mumbled, his neck heating up with a blush. He held his hand out to Felix. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise! So, visiting someone or passing through?”
“Passing through, business trip.”
“Ah, understandable. District 9 isn’t very…touristy. Other than 3rd Eye, there isn’t much going for our little town, especially when the only motel in town looks like it could fall down with a single strong breeze.”
Chan chuckled – Felix was rather blunt, but he was also incredibly right. His description of the motel was spot on. Isadora came back at that exact moment with a tray and four–no, five glasses. Two draft beers, the peach soju and two glasses of whiskey. Odd.
“Here you go, doll, two drafts, one whiskey and one peach soju,” Isa grinned. “And Chan, darlin, I noticed your whiskey was looking a bit light, so I went ahead and poured another for you. Felix, have you met him? He’s a producer for JYPE.”
“A producer?! You said you were just on a business trip!” Felix’s eyes widened before his shock quickly morphed into disbelief.
“It is a business trip. I’m scouting an artist north of here that JYP is interested in signing,” Chan shrugged as he took the fresh glass of whiskey from the tray that Isadora was handing off to Felix.
“Don’t you think he should meet Binnie, Felix? They would have so much to talk about.”
“You’re right, they would!” Felix grinned at the meddlesome bartender before turning back to Chan. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others. You’ll have a good time, I swear.”
He turned around and skipped off without giving Chan a chance to turn down his offer. Chan turned to Isadora with a raised brow.
“Go on,” she insisted, shooing him with her hands. “Go mingle with the common folk.”
Chan sighed as he stood up from the barstool, shook his head at the smug look on her face and dutifully followed after Felix towards the pool table and his friends.
“Alright, gents. I have two drafts of piss water for Minnie and Innie,” he grinned, passing off both draft beers to the two tallest members of the little group. “And a fresh glass of whiskey, on the rocks, for Binnie-Hyung.”
The sexy brick wall of a man grinned brightly as he accepted his whiskey, which nearly blinded and melted Chan into a puddle of embarrassing emotions simultaneously. Jesus fuck, he needed to get ahold of himself before he does or says something incriminating…like staring holes into the man’s head or asking to birth his babies.
“Bless you Lix,” Seungmin thanked. He practically guzzled a quarter of the tall glass before setting it down on a table nearby so that he could lean down and return to the game play. As he was aiming, he asked Felix, “Who's your friend?”
“This is Chan, he’s a producer from the city. He’s passing through on his way to meet with an artist that his company wants to sign. Up north.”
“That’s pretty cool, anyone we know?” Innie asked after he took a sip of his own drink.
“Your guess is as good as mine. JYP himself found the guy while scrolling through TikTok of all places. I have an address and a meeting time, and that’s about it,” Chan sighed long-sufferingly. He took another swig of his whiskey, feeling the need to be doing something lest he start ogling Changbin again.
“You work that closely with JYP that he sends you to sign his artists? That’s cool as fuck man,” Changbin whistled lowly.
“Something like that,” Chan chuckled. “‘You’re the least likely to screw it up, Chan. But that isn’t saying much, considering the options.’ He said it like it should have been a compliment but felt more like an insult in the end.”
He was met by a round of chuckles and giggles from the other four.
“Classic back-handed compliment. Geez. Must be nice to be filthy rich and be able to say whatever you want,” Changbin smirked as he took his turn again.
“JYP’s lack of filter has nothing to do with being filthy rich and everything to do with his general lack of fucks for the people around him.” Chan deadpanned.
“Touche.” He aimed the cue ball for the solid 7…aimed…and…a solid smack later, the 7 fell in the left corner pocket. Flawlessly. He grinned smugly.
“Dammit,” Seungmin muttered under his breath. On the table, the striped 13, 14 and 15 still remained, as well as the solid 8. Changbin walked around to the other side of the table, smirked at Seungmin before leaning his back against the table, threading the cue stick behind him so that he could aim the cue ball at the solid 8. It was…the single hottest thing he’d ever fucking seen. If he were a girl, his panties would certainly be soaked right now. He quickly sipped from his whiskey to prevent any drooling.
It only worsened when he saw the way Changbin’s back muscles bulged underneath his leather jacket when he pulled the cue stick back and thrust it forward to hit the cue ball…and then the 8-ball fell right into the pocket.
Fuck.
Time of second death – 7:23 PM KST.
“That’s game, Minnie. Better luck next time,” Changbin smirked.
“Yeah, yeah. You got lucky this time,” Seungmin huffed as he walked over to Innie and–oh. Chan turned away from them before he could turn a violent shade of red from watching the two shove their tongues down the other’s throat. Duly noted: mouth fucking is acceptable in backwater pubs.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Min, it’s not like you’re bad at pool.”
Seungmin and Innie separated long enough for him to turn around with a mischievous smirk.
“Mm, that’s true. Besides, it’s not like I was playing to impress anyone like you were.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Changbin said, his tone was rather blasé.
“Sure.” Seungmin smirked. He ducked his head to avoid the small block of chalk that Changbin tossed at him with a grumble.
“So, City Boy, how’s your game?” Changbin asked, turning to Chan with a raised brow.
“If by game you mean pool, then the answer is non-existent – I’ve never played before.”
Changbin’s eyes, for lack of a better word, lit up like lights on a Christmas tree.
“Excellent,” he grinned. “Well, City Boy, you’re in luck, because I’ve decided it’s my sworn duty as reigning Pool champ of District 9 to teach you the ways of our most sacred sport.”
“It’s not a sport,” Innie mumbled.
“And you aren’t reigning anything,” Seungmin mocked dryly.
“Alright, you two. Let’s go see if Isa has any more of those wings in the back freezer and leave Bin to his…extraordinary teachings,” Felix snickered as he shooed the other two back towards the bar. He turned to Chan with a wink and a grin as he passed him. Chan gulped. Was he really that obvious? Fuck me.
“So, you really don’t know anything about pool?” Changbin asked with a skeptical look.
“Absolutely nothing.” Chan shook his head self-deprecatingly. Changbin’s face morphed into a pleased grin.
“Excellent, that means I don’t have to correct any bad habits. That being said, there are 16 balls: 8 solids, 7 striped, and the cue ball. You use this triangle,” he held up a plastic triangle. “To colored balls into number order with the 8 ball being at the very center, lining up the 1 ball with this dot on the table, and then place the cue ball on this dot. You remove the triangle and then the players determine who’s going first. Whoever goes first has the luxury of breaking the balls to determine whether they play solids or stripes.”
“How is that decided?”
“Well, if I go first and break the balls, and say the striped 11 ball falls into the corner pocket, then I’m playing stripes and you’re playing solids. First to put all 7 of their balls in the pockets without dropping the 8 in a pocket, gets to play for the 8 ball. The first person to get all 7 of their balls and then the 8 ball in the pockets wins.” He looked at Chan, perhaps searching his face for any confusion. “Does that make sense?”
“Uh, sure. You break; you get whatever goes in the pocket. Get all 7 of your assigned balls in the pockets before going for the 8 ball, then get the 8 ball in a pocket and you win,” Chan recited simply. “What happens if I get the 8 ball in before all 7 of my balls?”
“You lose, and the other person wins regardless of how many of their balls are or are not in the pockets.”
“And if the cue ball goes in the pocket?”
“Then the other person gets to freely put the cue ball wherever they want on their next turn. Otherwise, you play the cue ball wherever it is on the table without moving it.”
Chan took a deep breath and let it out, nodding his head along to Changbin’s instructions. Seems easy enough.
“By the way, I’m Changbin. Seems I may have forgotten to introduce myself. Apologies, that was rather rude.” He held his free hand out to Chan, and Chan swallowed thickly as he clasped hands with him, shaking it in greeting.
“No worries, mate. You were in the middle of a game. Absolutely no offense taken over here.”
“Mate?”
“Ahh, sorry, I’m from Australia. I moved to Korea when I was 13 to join JYP and fast track my producing career. Well, I guess technically I wanted to be an idol first, but that never really…took off. Couldn’t find enough like-minded individuals to start a group with. Ergo – producing.”
“No shit?! Felix is from Australia too! His family moved here a while back, and his Korean was positively atrocious for a while there until Seungmin practically beat it into him,” Changbin chuckled. “But damn, that’s impressive. 13? And from another country – wasn’t that lonely?”
Chan accepted the pool stick Changbin handed him, then mimicked the other man’s actions by rubbing the tip with the small block of blue chalk.
“At times, yes. But then I met Jisung, Hyunjin and Minho. And now the four of us work together training future idols and creating music and choreography for current idols. We live vicariously through them.”
“Is it everything you thought it would be? Do you have any regrets?”
“Yes and no,” Chan sighed. “On one hand, I’m sad to not be the one performing my own music, but that doesn’t mean I don’t produce and release my own songs – if you know what to look for, you’ll find my personal music eventually.” Chan shrugged.
“And if I wanted to hear your music much sooner than eventually?” Changbin was right behind him. When, or how, he moved without Chan noticing was a mystery. The back of his neck broke out in gooseflesh when he felt Changbin’s breath ghost across the sensitive skin. Fuck. He was absolutely screwed.
“Um, w-well I guess I could play it for y-you,” he stuttered. His hands were clammy and if he wasn’t careful, he would definitely drop the cue stick. Changbin chuckled huskily under his breath. Fuck. That was unfairly hot too.
“Well, City Boy, while I would love to hear your music, I did promise to teach you pool first,” he smirked. Chan felt Changbin wrap his arm around his waist and gently tug him over to the end of the table where the cue ball was queued up. “Would you like to break?”
“Erm, sure. But I probably won’t be very good–” Chan’s breath caught in the back of his throat when he felt Changbin maneuver him into position, bending him at the waist and lifting his arms to aim the cue stick at the cue ball. His strong, deft hands felt like sin as they closed around Chan’s wrists, his front plastered against Chan’s back.
“That’s alright, City Boy, I’ll help you,” he whispered in Chan’s ear. His voice was low and gravelly, and it sent a violent shiver down his spine where desire was quickly gathering in his loins. Chan gulped. He’d been doing that a lot, but it was either gulp or drool all over the very aesthetically pleasing man behind him, and Chan was not prepared to die on the spot – he still had affairs to get in order.
“S-sure. Thanks.”
Changbin huffed a quiet laugh that had Chan’s short blonde hair fluttering against his neck. Another pleasureful shiver raced down his spine. He would never know another moment of peace around this man.
“Alright, so the first thing you need to do is take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out to calm your heart and your mind, otherwise, you’ll never be able to play well…”
And his impromptu lesson on pool continued as such. Changbin whispered tips and tricks and directions into his sensitive ears, while his formidable, calloused hands gently guided his arms and posture into place for the perfect shot. If he didn’t know any better, Chan would think he was the only one getting turned on by all of the intimate acts. Thankfully, he did know better. Coincidentally, every time Changbin pressed up against Chan to redirect him, his cock would also press against Chan – his long, thick, hard cock.
It was simultaneously pleasureful and torturous. At this point, Chan was willing to do anything to get the man out of the public eye so he could fall to his knees and worship the cock tucked away inside of those sinfully tight leather pants. And if Chan maybe rubbed his ass against Changbin’s bulge a time or three and 36, well, that was between them and whichever god was watching this burgeoning spark of lust unfold between them.
And then a particularly deliberate hip thrust from Changbin against Chan’s ass was perfectly timed to interfere with Chan hitting the cue ball, and as luck would have it, instead of hitting the solid 6 ball into the back right pocket, the cue ball went wide and hit the solid 8 ball…right into the left center pocket.
“Tough break, City Boy. That’s game then,” Changbin whispered gruffly into Chan’s ear. His hips continued to thrust against Chan, his cock grinding against his ass at a consistent pace that couldn’t just be played off as accidental. It was purposeful. Extremely purposeful. Especially when Changbin began licking Chan’s neck, the tip of his tongue rhythmically circling his pounding pulse. Chan’s breath caught in the back of his throat, a whimper escaping through his parted lips as his shaking hands dropped the cue stick onto the pool table, fingers clamping against the edge of the table so he could rut back against Changbin’s bulge.
“F-fuck,” Chan gasped.
“Baby, I intend to.”
The impact of the bathroom door against the wall was deafening as Changbin bodily shoved Chan in by his hands wrapped tightly around Chan’s waist. Chan’s back was slammed against the mirrored wall as their mouths met in a clash of tongues and lips and teeth. Want was coursing through Chan in double time, heart pumping hot blood through arteries and veins until his cock was the hardest it had ever been. It was violently pressing against the zipper of his posh jeans until he was a whimpering mess begging for more.
“B-bin,” he gasped when they finally parted for air. Changbin redirected his mouth to Chan’s neck, pressing hot kisses against his skin until he found the spot that made Chan whine lowly in the back of his throat. He laved his tongue against that spot before biting down. Chan keened, head thrown back against the hard surface of the mirror, not that he noticed, his body was currently shaking from the level of pleasure coursing through his veins.
“That’s it, baby,” Changbin whispered against his neck. “Show me how desperate you are for me; I want to hear you. I just know you have the most beautiful singing voice and bedroom voice.”
Chan squeaked. Squeaked. Gods, how embarrassing. This–this Roman God was whispering utter filth in his ears, making him feel things he’d not felt in quite a long time, perhaps never before, and all he could do was squeak. Chan wanted to find a dark, empty corner to curl up in and die from the inevitable embarrassment.
“Don’t go shy on me now, baby. You were just rutting against my cock out in the middle of the pub where anyone could’ve seen us – now that we have a tiny bit of privacy, you want to close up? Are you secretly an exhibitionist?”
Chan let out another choked groan, pitched higher than he thought was ever possible.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bin smirked against Chan’s neck. “Then it’s a good thing we have this mirror, isn’t it?”
Changbin slid his hand into the strands of blond hair at the back of Chan’s head, fisting his hand tightly and using the grip to turn his head so that Chan could in fact see their reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. He whimpered when he saw how debauched he looked in his pale blue Fendi sweater and pressed Gucci jeans. His diamond and white gold Fendi chain necklace and matching bracelet sparkled in the dim light of the decrepit bathroom.
“Look how pretty you are, so lewd already baby, and you haven’t even had a chance to suck my cock,” he cooed. The sound of a zipper preceded Changbin pushing Chan down onto his knees by his shoulder. His hand moved from Chan’s hair to cradle his jaw, directing his gaze away from the mirror to face Bin’s bulge that was fighting to break out of his open zipper. “Let’s change that. Go ahead, take my cock out and suck it down that pretty throat.”
Chan swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth at the prospect of getting a chance to suck that behemoth of a cock he had felt rutting against his ass not even twenty minutes ago. Soon it would be in his hands, and then his mouth. And the thought of that had him salivating even more.
He knelt at Changbin’s feet, biting his lip and staring up into Changbin’s eyes that were blazing with lust and dominance, as he slowly slid his hands over his leather clad thick thighs, taking a moment to truly appreciate the effort he put into curating such a strong, and droolworthy body. When his fingers brushed against the edge of the open zipper, he debated teasing him just a bit by moving behind Changbin to fondle his ass, but the look in his eyes was enough to deter him from his mischievous thoughts. Chan quickly slipped his hands inside of Bin’s pants and was pleasantly surprised to find the man had gone commando that day. There were no other barriers between Chan’s hands and Changbin’s impressive cock.
He couldn’t help the way a bit of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth when he finally pulled Changbin’s cock from the confines of his tight, leather pants – he was only a man, your honor. It was the most beautiful cock he’d ever seen, fitting, considering the owner was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Long and thick, delectable prominent vein. Cut. Perfection.
“Go ahead, City Boy, I know you want to suck it so bad.”
Chan didn’t need any further encouragement. He quickly moved to the base, pressing soft but insistent kisses against either of Bin's balls, before dragging his tongue against the vein from base to tip. When he reached the head, he laved kitten licks against it until Bin was groaning lowly, his head thrown back in ecstasy. He paid special attention to the slit and the underside of the head, licking up every single drop of precum as it began to ooze rapidly. When he thought the head had received an adequate amount of attention, he leaned forward, angling the cock down further, so that he could start to swallow it down.
“Fuuuuccckkk, baby. Yes, just like that,” Bin groaned as Chan managed to get half of his cock in his mouth on the first try. He wrapped his lips around the shaft and swallowed, his tongue caressing the underside as he bobbed back and forth on Changbin’s cock. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and when he looked to his left, he was shocked to find that he’d entirely forgotten about the mirrored wall.
And if Chan thought he looked debauched earlier, it was nothing compared to what he looked like now, on his knees sucking Changbin’s cock, drool and precum dripping off his chin and landing on the luxury material of his designer sweater. His hair was sticking up in disarray in several spots from where Changbin had run his hands through it. But now that Chan had been reminded of the mirror’s existence, he couldn’t seem to look away. His cock was straining against his jeans, his hips now moving of their own volition, looking for any tiny bit of friction possible. And if every now and then he rubbed his bulge against Bin’s leg…well, the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care and wasn’t that just fortuitous.
“That’s it baby, watch yourself in the mirror as you suck my cock. You’re doing so good, baby, but it isn’t enough for you, is it? You need relief too, don’t you?” Bin moaned. Chan groaned lowly, and Bin echoed with a groan of his own when he felt the vibrations around his cock. “Come on, City Boy, rut against my leg like the needy little thing I know you are.”
Chan whined low in his throat as he gave up all pretenses and practically straddled Changbin’s foot so that he could properly grind his bulge against Bin’s leg. He was slurping and sucking his cock deeper into his throat until his nose was finally buried in Changbin’s neatly trimmed pubes. He swallowed over, and over again, diligently trying to not let a single drop of precum escape his mouth. Changbin gasped loudly, his eyes never once straying from Chan’s form in the mirror as he wrapped both hands in Chan’s hair, careful to not obscure his view of the mirror and their bodies, then began to wildly thrust his hips back and forth, fucking his cock in and out of Chan’s pliant mouth.
“F-fuck, baby. That’s it. So perfect for me, whining, drooling, rutting against my leg like a needy little bitch in heat,” Bin sighed. “You’re positively cock drunk. Imagine what it’ll be like when I finally get my cock in that tight little ass – you’ll be fucked stupid.”
“Ngggh,” Chan managed to mutter around Bin’s cock. His grinding was beginning to lose rhythm as he quickly approached his climax. He squeezed Changbin’s thighs three times with his hands as he desperately locked eyes with him through their mirrored reflections.
“Do you need to cum, baby? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Chan nodded his head as urgently as he could as tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. He was overwhelmed by pleasure and the exhibitionism – that was a first for him, exhibitionism. Seems he was going to learn a lot about himself before this was all over. Like the fact he liked being domed? That was also new. Fuck, this whole experience was perhaps the best sex he’d ever had and all he was doing was rutting against the man’s leg. If he could see his cock right now, he’s certain it would be purple from waiting for Bin.
“Just a few seconds more, baby. I’m almost there, I want us to cum together, okay? So, work extra hard to make me cum and you can too.”
With those words, Chan doubled his efforts to pleasure his partner. His tongue paid extra attention to the prominent vein on the underside of Bin’s cock, his lips tightened around his shaft, and if he maybe let his teeth graze the shaft just a little tiny bit, well, his throat made up for it by swallowing over, and over, and over again. Changbin groaned loudly at the increased stimulation
“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me. Love your mouth baby. Oh–oh, f-fuck. That–Baby, I, I’m so close,” he gasped. His hands tightened their grip in Chan’s hair, and he thrust his hips forward three more times before he cried out, “I’m going to cum, fuck, baby! C-cum with me.”
Chan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his own hips stuttered against Changbin’s leg, swallowing as Bin released into his mouth at the same time as Chan released into his pants. It was wet, sticky, messy. But it was perfect.
Chan watched as a drop of cum slipped out the corner of his mouth, trailing down until it dripped off his chin and landed on the Fendi logo of his sweater. Changbin slipped his softened cock out of Chan’s mouth and Chan took a deep breath, gasping for air now that his throat wasn’t stuffed full of cock. Changbin swiped his thumb through the mess of drool, precum and cum that covered Chan’s lower lip and chin with a fond gaze.
“You were perfect, baby. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Chan dazedly nodded his head, still lost in the pleasurable headspace of post-climax. Changbin smiled softly at him as he carefully helped him to his feet.
“I’m so glad baby.”
Later, once their hearts had calmed down, and Changbin had managed to bribe a few clean cloths out of Isadora to clean themselves up, they sat curled up together in a booth where no one would dare bother them. A plate of fried chicken and two glasses of whiskey sat unfinished in front of them. Smoke still spiraled up around them from nearby patrons' ash trays, and the base heavy music still rattled the bones before settling deep within the rib cage like a warm hug. But neither could be fussed to even care, they were trapped in their own little world, Chan’s phone held carefully between them as they listened to the lilting lyrics of his song.
Don't wanna let you go
The way that you give me your hands, I'll fly
At times when I feel down or empty
You're always beside me
Promise that I'll love you plenty
I hope this'll never end for eternity.
“It’s beautiful, baby,” Bin whispered reverently. “You’re so talented, the world was robbed of your voice.”
“Thanks Bin. And it’s fine, I still get to share my songs.” Chan let his head fall on Changbin’s shoulder, his eyes closing to bask in the peace of the moment. Changbin pressed a soft kiss against his temple, his lips lingering. Chan sighed softly.
“One day I hope you can do more than just share your songs – your voice deserves to be heard.” Changbin whispered.
“Maybe one day.” Chan whispered back, a secret, a wish, tucked in between stolen moments.
Chan played a few more songs for Bin that he and Jisung had recorded separately and together. He was just as impressed with Ji’s stuff, saying as much when there was a lull in songs. Before long, they were being shooed out of the pub by Isadora.
“You don’t have to go home, darlins, but you can’t stay here,” she smirked. “Chan, it was lovely to meet you. Maybe don’t be a stranger? Come and visit me some time.”
“Maybe. If I’m given proper incentive,” Chan chuckled.
He and Changbin were the last to leave 3rd Eye, Isadora locking the door behind them. They stood outside the pub with questions in their eyes and hope in their chests. The streetlight overhead flickered, casting shadows across the ground, but their smiles were brighter.
“As much as I would love to invite myself back to your motel room to defile your bed, I have something very important to tend to early in the morning, and I absolutely cannot miss it – I’ve been promised it will be life changing.”
Chan sighed, disappointed, but a part of him, a rather significant part of him, he was ashamed to admit, was glad the Changbin was responsible enough to end their dalliance here before it could continue. Not because he didn’t want to sleep with the man, but because he did, and he knew that if he let that happen, he would miss his own important meeting in the morning.
And a small part of him, which was slowly growing larger by the moment, knew that if he gave this last piece of himself to Changbin, he would never recover from him, or the resulting heartbreak of having to leave Changbin and the memories of their time together behind in District 9 while he went back to his big city life as a producer at JYPE.
“You’re right – it would be incredibly irresponsible of me to neglect my obligations.” Chan pouted. He looked up to see that they were now standing right outside the main entrance of his motel. When did they leave 3rd Eye? Changbin chuckled at his apparent shock as he cupped Chan’s jaw, leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his cheek, before stepping back out of reach.
“Don’t worry, City Boy, I’ll see you soon enough – you can’t possibly get rid of me so easily.”
Chan watched him walk away until he was no longer visible, his heart leaving with him.
The next morning, Chan groaned as he slowly woke from one of the best sleeps of his life. Insomnia who? He rolled over to check the bedside clock and nearly shit his pants when he saw it was already 10 am. Fuck! He was supposed to be on the road by now! Shit, shit, double triple shit!
He dove out of bed, quickly cleaned up the best he could in the ensuite bathroom, and changed into a black three-piece suit with a pale blue silk button up underneath and a black tie. He folded the suit jacket over his arm as he gathered his luggage and exited the motel room. He dropped the room key off at the front desk as he nearly ran out to his sleek, black Genesis G80. He then proceeded to break every speed limit between District 9 and his destination that wasn’t too far north of the dilapidated town. Honestly, if the damned motel hadn’t been the closest lodging to this new artist, he wouldn’t have thought twice about passing right on through District 9.
In hindsight, he’s glad he did, no matter how fleeting his time with Changbin had been, he will treasure those moments with the enticing man for the rest of his life.
And when he finally arrived at his destination, a mere 23 minutes late, he was…well, shocked would be putting it lightly. The large sprawling property was lined with a wooden fence, the driveway that he was currently driving on led him through a grove of cherry blossom trees until he finally arrived at the large farmhouse, complete with wrap-around porch. It was gorgeous. Peaceful. If Chan lived here, no matter how much he loved music, he doesn’t think he’d be able to sacrifice this peace for the hope and glory of stardom – especially not with the types of saesangs and paparazzi most idols deal with.
He took a deep breath to gather his bearings, grabbed his suit jacket, laptop bag and phone and exited his car. After putting his suit jacket back, he quickly walked up to the front door of the house and, after taking another deep and calming breath, knocked three times. And waited.
He didn’t have to wait long, but he was nearly knocked off his feet by the person who answered the door.
“Well, City Boy, it’s about damned time you got here. You’re only…24 minutes late.”
Changbin.
His eyes were soft as he stared at Chan, even as his lips curled into a smirk, the likes of which would impress even the Cheshire Cat. Chan gulped – he did that a lot around Changbin.
“...Bin?” he whispered softly, the words barely breaking through.
“Told you I’d see you soon, baby. Now, come on in so you can tell me all about whatever offer JYP thinks I’m going to accept, and I’ll tell you how nothing he offers me will suffice unless it includes you and me, and the world finally hearing the beautiful voice behind the lyrics.”
“Binnie…”
“I’m afraid that’s nonnegotiable, baby. I’m not doing any of this without you,” he answered, his face hardened into a stubborn stare. “Or Felixie or Innie or Minnie for that matter. It’s all of us, or I walk.”
Chan bit his lip. He wanted to say yes, wanted to offer Changbin, a man he’d known for less than a day, the entire world, but he didn’t have that power. Didn’t have the authority to make such reckless promises. But dammit, if he wouldn’t try.
“I–let me call JYP.”
The brightest grin he’d ever seen on a human being broke out across Bin’s face and Chan felt his heart skip a few beats in his chest. He watched as Changbin stepped forward and cradled Chan’s jaw in both of his large hands. He sighed softly, eyes falling close, as Bin’s thumbs softly rubbed at his cheekbones, their foreheads falling forward against the others until they were breathing each other’s air. Chan wrapped his hands around Changbin’s neck as he carefully slotted their lips together in a kiss unlike any they’ve shared so far.
It was soft, gentle, but no less passionate than the fast, hard kisses they shared the night before. If anything, it was more intimate because it felt like they were cutting themselves open, displaying all of the soft squishy bits inside for the other to do as they pleased with them. Instead, they whispered tender promises of protection and love in the form of soft caresses of lips against lips.
“Baby, let me call you baby,” Chan whispered fervently.
“Baby, you already are,” Bin cooed. They separated again, looking into the fond gaze of the other. When Changbin carefully removed himself from Chan’s personal space, taking a few steps back and letting go of Chan’s face with one final caress, Chan thought he would die. Dramatic, but that’s how it felt. “Come on, City Boy, you have a phone call to make, and I have bags to pack. I’d hate to leave JYP hanging in suspense.”
