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chans-room · 10 months

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Craving Connection — 2

Warnings: reader has nickname Sugar Plum, an obnoxious amount of flirting and sexual tension, Chan and Sugar Plum are whipped for each other like. Bad. Mutual pining, explicit protected sex with: hair pulling, biting/marking, scratching, so much dirty talk, finger sucking, waxing poetic about Chan’s body, mutual choking 🥴, semi-abrupt ending, some self sabotage and self depreciation at the v end it’s necessary for plot ok

Length: 6.1k

A/n: I’m sorry this has taken 8000 years. The next few parts are all (mostly) texts and they’re already done so I’ll be posting those weekly (maybe? If y’all want that?) and I’m already working on the next big written part. The biggest thank you to @eureka-its-zico and @keytomars for encouraging me not to delete this all of the times I threatened to 🫠 let me know if you want to be tagged!

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October 1, 2019 – 6:49pm

The first drop of rain splattering on her bare shoulder stopped her in her tracks, making her look up at the sky in contempt.

“Come on, we’re so close, we might be able to beat it,” Chan said encouragingly, tugging on their intertwined hands with a smile. They’d decided to go out despite the brewing storm, choosing to walk to a nearby bar that would turn into a club as the night went on; the distraction of loud music and a room full of strangers was necessary to keep her mind from both dwelling on Christian and lingering on Chan.

But Chan had quickly wiped all thoughts of anything but him from her mind – all she could think of was the warmth of Chan’s hand in hers and the way his shirt stretched around his chest. With every step, she regretted her decision to suggest going out more and more. All she really wanted was to do was get to know him.

“You know, we don’t have to go,” she said weakly, her words betraying her attempt to conceal the desire to be alone with him — a desire that had been building all day.

Chan smirked, shaking his head in disbelief, “You were the one who wanted to go out because, and I quote, ‘How boring would it be to spend my last few nights in Sydney sitting in a hotel room.’”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, “I know, I know, and I still stand by that. I just don’t wanna get rained on and it’s definitely starting to rain.”

“Oh come on, Sugar Plum, it’s not even raining,” he teased, but it seemed as though his simple utterance had cursed them. Almost as soon as the last word left his mouth, it began to pour.

The shock of the cool October rain instantly drenching her pushed her forward, dragging Chan behind her to a stop under an awning.

She could feel the fabric of her dress clinging to her and her hair plastered to her shoulders, sending rivulets of water down her back and in between the valley of her breasts. Chan wasn’t faring much better — his curls were flat against his forehead, the sudden onslaught of rain had made them both look more like they’d been thrown overboard in the Sydney harbor instead of ready to go to a bar.

“Alright I’m calling it. We’re soaked, Channie,” she laughed, wringing out the hem of her dress for emphasis, “Let’s go back to the hotel, yeah?”

His frown deepened, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the pavement. “But we said we wanted to go.”

“I know we did, but I don’t think either of us are gonna have fun if we’re cold and wet in a bar,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “If we go back, we can get some room service and watch some movies, doesn’t that sound so much better than being soggy and sad out in public?”

Chan chuckled dryly before nodding, “I guess you’re right.”

“There’s only one problem though,” she said solemnly, squeezing his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her in confusion. “We’ve gotta run back to the hotel now, and if you can’t catch me you’re buying dinner.”

She took off running in the opposite direction, laughing hysterically as she heard Chan sputter behind her. She’d never been more grateful she’d chosen to wear the chunky platform boots over the heels she had sitting by the door as she ran, puddles beginning to form on the concrete.

She hadn’t felt so free in so long — the entirety of her relationship with Christian felt so stifling and serious. He was always harping on her behavior, telling her she was acting childish or telling her to be an adult; she felt like she always had to be on her best behavior. But spending time with Chan made her feel light, unburdened in a way she couldn’t remember feeling in longer than she cared to admit.

She was so caught up in the feeling of it that she didn’t realize she had slipped on a particularly wet patch of pavement. The yelp tore out of her throat unconsciously, but before she could truly lose her balance, his arm was tightening around her waist and heaving her into his embrace.

“Jesus, sweetheart, be careful,” he sighed in her ear, skidding to a stop under the awning. The sharp chill of the spring rain ran through her; it definitely had nothing to do with his lips pressed against the skin behind her ear.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize,” she said breathlessly as he set her back down on the dry ground.

“No worries,” he shrugged, “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt. I mean, you do owe me dinner now,” he grinned smugly. She gasped, reaching forward to smack his arm when he grabbed her hand, using her momentum to toss her over his shoulder, giggling as he straightened up. “Now I can get us back to the room without you trying to dart away again.”

The fluttering feeling in her chest came back even stronger then; she was partially grateful he couldn't see her face. Not only were his actions something she had only imagined to happen in rom-coms, but the way he threw her around so effortlessly made her ears burn. Images of him throwing her around, his hands on her throat and skimming across her body filled her head.

She hadn’t realized they had made it back to the hotel until the ding! of the elevator door pulled her from her fantasies. “There’s nowhere for me to run away to now, Channie,” she laughed, kicking her legs.

“Alright alright, quit squirming, I don’t wanna drop you,” he said, tightening his grip on her thigh. She bit her lip to keep the needy whine in her chest, her body locking up tensely – the feeling of his fingers spread across her bare thigh and the way he squeezed her tender flesh reignited the flames of desire that tickled in her chest. “Good girl,” he murmured, making her eyes roll back. She figured there was no way he didn’t know what he was doing to her – not now at least, with his hand trapped between her thighs, further up than was decent while praising her. And for the second time that day, she could see a future for them in her mind.

Chan lowered her to the ground gently, crowding her into the wall of the elevator with one hand on her waist, and the other on the wall behind her head. She shivered, staring into his eyes, his pupils blown wide. “Channie, what are you–”

“Sugar Plum, I just–” he rasped, brushing his thumb across her cheek, but his sentence was cut off by a startled gasp from behind them.

“What are you two little devils doing in here?” a high pitched, shrill voice rang out, “And why are you so wet?”

They looked at each other for a second before breaking into laughter, Chan taking his hand in hers as he pulled her out of the elevator, past the old woman as she huffed indignantly.

The maze of hallways and the endless void of doors sped past them as Chan steered them toward their respective rooms, only stopping once the door was clicking shut heavily behind her. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until they’d stepped into the frigid confines of the luxurious room, or that she was shivering until Chan’s warm hand made contact with her shoulder, almost making her flinch.

“We should both shower, get warmed up, yeah?” He suggested with a small smile.

“Y-yeah, that s-sounds good,” she chattered through her teeth, “M-meet back in my r-room?”

Chan nodded, steering her by the shoulders through the door that joined their rooms. “Just knock and let me know when you’re done, then we’ll order room service and watch a movie.”

——

“Hey Channie, I need a favor,” her voice, muffled by the thick wooden door, pulled him from the mindless doom scrolling as he sat on the plush hotel bed. He pushed himself off the bed, shuffling the few steps toward where their rooms connected. Wordlessly, he pushed on the door, but it slammed back in his face, accompanied by a yelp.

“Sugar Plum, it's just me,” he laughed.

“I know, just don’t open the door! I-I need uh I need to borrow a shirt… if that’s okay,” she murmured. “Mine fell into a puddle and everything else is already being shipped to my new apartment and–”

“No worries, just give me a sec to grab one for you,” he chuckled, cutting her off. He already found himself endeared by her. He grabbed a shirt out of his bag randomly, sniffing it once to make sure it wasn’t dirty. “Sugar Plum, I have a shirt for you, but you’re gonna have to let me open the door to get it.”

He heard her huff, “Fine, but just–be fast, okay? It’s freezing in here and I’m basically naked.”

His mouth went dry and he could feel himself getting lightheaded — and hard — from the mere thought of her body on display for him. He wanted to know if she would be shy with her pleasure like she seemed to be in front of him, or if she would be loud and unashamed like he had seen glimpses of in her throughout the day. The fact that only 3 inches of wood were separating them weighed heavily in his mind – he could just go in there and find out for himself. But he couldn’t; he wouldn’t.

He forced himself to breathe, pushing the thought of her away as he cracked open the door and shoved the shirt through the opening. The tips of her fingernails brushed against the skin on the underside of his wrist as she took it from him. The small, breathy thank you, Channie made his heart race. He forced himself to take another rasping breath, adjusting himself in his shorts, before he pulled the door open the rest of the way.

Chan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Rationally, he knew exactly what would happen when he handed her his shirt. That alone had been a test of his mental strength; but the sight of her in just a pair of tight black shorts, the expanse of her exposed back on display to him for a fraction of a second before the black material covered it was burned into his brain. It took every ounce of his self control not to pull his shirt right back off her body.

But she turned, looking at him over her shoulder with a smile, “Alright, come on, I promised you dinner. I’m starving,” she said, walking away from him.

For the moment, the illusion of domesticity filled him, being spun around his heart like cotton candy. Seeing her walk around the hotel room in his shirt, was a new level of temptation he hadn’t considered. Not only did it stoke an ugly, possessive flame in his chest, but the outline of her curves in his oversized shirt was going to send him to an early grave. That and her thighs. The soft, lush flesh was so unreasonably alluring he couldn’t think straight. He wanted to bury his face in between them, sink his teeth into the skin and leave marks that would last for days, feel them under his hands again, worship them for as long as she’d let him.

“Channie, come on,” she said, calling him over to the bed with a wave of her hand. The menu was sitting open in her lap, “I think I want a sandwich, what about you?”

He was frozen, standing in the doorway for a second then nodded absently, shuffling across the carpet toward her and plopping down into her bed next to her. Chan realized to survive being around her — being her friend and nothing more — he would simply have to run on autopilot until he could get his shit together. She didn’t need him awkwardly thirsting after her while she had no one but Felix and their friends. Sugar Plum trusted him, and he refused to let her down, especially after meeting her ex.

“Channie,” she whined, flopping backwards onto the bed, catching his attention, “You’ve been staring through the menu for like a full minute. Am I that boring?”

He laughed, shaking his head, pulling the menu out of her grasp, “No, you're just hogging it and I can’t see!”

She gasped, her head shooting up off the bed to give him a playful glare, “Don’t test your luck, Christopher Bang Chan, or you’ll get no dinner from me, sir.”

He fought every instinct to groan at the way she said it, the word sir tumbling out of her mouth so brattily and prettily, choosing to roll his eyes and direct his attention to the menu in his lap. But the words on the page may as well have been in Russian – he couldn’t process a single thing. But he swallowed his feelings and waved his hand in her direction, “Find something to watch while I look, yeah?” She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Unless you want to stare at me while we eat,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She let her head drop back again, eyes filling with tears as she cackled, “No, no, I’ll find something! Just hurry up, I’m fuckin’ starving, Channie.”

——

She had no idea Chan could be so cute even when he was totally in his own world. Truth be told, she barely even knew what the main character’s name was in the movie she had started – she was too entranced by the way his curly hair hung over his eyebrows, and how he narrowed his eyes at the screen every couple of minutes when something interesting happened. She hated it; how could he be so attractive by just existing?

It was only made worse by the tank top that showed off his incredibly toned arms – and a peak of his sculpted chest – and basketball shorts he had on that were constantly riding up his muscular thighs. By the time they had finished dinner she was practically salivating, and it was only getting worse by the minute.

At the 50th adorable nose scrunch and giggle combination, she finally cracked. “Hey, so, I just wanted to thank you, uh, again, for earlier. With Christian, you know, my ex. That really meant a lot to me, you know.”

He seemed to curl in on himself a little, almost shy as he fidgeted in his seat before replying, “It’s nothing, really. I fuckin’ hate that he did that to you. And I stand by what I said earlier; he’s lucky he ran into us, and not Felix, because that would have been bad.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, nodding at his assessment. “I’m not looking forward to telling him about Christian though. He’s going to want blood.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell him, if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head, “No, I will. I can’t keep a secret from him for my life, not even when we were kids. He just looks at me and it's like he can see through me, you know?”

Chan nodded, “He does the same thing to me, I think that’s just his super power. He’s like a human lie detector,” he laughed.

“You’re so right,” she laughed with him, shuffling down in her seat and turning toward him, the movie abandoned in their periphery now. “One time, in like, primary school, I didn’t want him to know I had gotten in a fight with my friend who I knew he hated and I tried so hard to keep it together, but he took one look at me and he just knew.”

“He’s so good at that!” Chan giggled, “I was upset with Changbin and Jeongin for messing around too much at practice one day, and he took one look at me and knew! Like I didn’t say a word and he looked at me and was like ‘Don’t be too hard on them, we’re all just stressed about midterms, and practice is their time to relax and get away from the pressure.’ I was so stunned I stopped being mad at them all together!” Chan said, turning toward her, his eyes closed from his smile and dimples on full display.

Without thinking, she leaned forward, catching his lips with her own. His lips were just as plush and soft as she had imagined them to be. He smelled faintly like minty toothpaste but still tasted sweet like the ice cream they shared after dinner. His hands gripping her waist made her gasp and pull back, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry Chan, I didn’t mean to–”

Chan scoffed and surged forward, planting his mouth against hers firmly as he pulled her body closer to him, mumbling out, “Not sorry, wanted this all day, want you.”

She let herself sink into his touch, running her hands over the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his muscular back, allowing her hands to explore him the way she’d been dreaming of all day. He was so warm, heat radiating through his shirt into her palms.

Chan detached his mouth from hers, trailing his lips down her throat with small nips to her skin, “Pull my hair again, baby,” he sighed, tightening his arms around her waist.

“Okay, Channie,” she groaned, snaking her hand into his pretty curls. She applied a bit of pressure, pulling on the strands from the root. His shaking breath on her collarbone made her smirk, deciding to pull a bit harder. The breathy half-moan half-whine that tumbled out of his mouth made her mouth water.

“Fuck, so pretty, taste so good,” he groaned into her skin before sinking his teeth into the thin skin of her neck. Her hips involuntarily pitched forward, grinding against his length with a gasp. “Pretty girl,” he cooed, pulling back from her neck, “Do you wanna feel good? Want Channie to make you feel good?”

She nodded, swiveling her hips and chasing after his mouth with her own as he shimmied down the bed, her hands pulling at the neck of his shirt. She needed it to come off him — now.

“Be patient, baby, I’ll give you anything you want, you just gotta ask. Channie will do whatever you want,” he rasped, pulling his shirt off over his head before settling back onto the pillows behind him. The sight of his bare chest laid out below her had her stunned.

“God that’s not fair,” she pouted, staring down at his chest — the toned muscle of his abs was almost mocking, especially her paired with the firm yet plush pecs she wanted to sink her teeth into. She had to get it together; Chan was still a stranger. She didn’t need to broadcast how swiftly he turned her into a feral simp in less than a day; even though she was pretty sure he knew just how into him she was.

“I’m not fair?” Chan scoffed, “you’re sitting on my dick wearing my shirt. If anything isn’t fair, it’s that.” The absolute conviction on his eyes as he stared at her gave her butterflies — there was no questioning if he meant it. But something about it felt like the nicest compliment she’d ever received. “Do you know how much of an impossible choice you’ve given me though? Because I want you to keep it on but I’m also dying to see all of you and this is a fucking problem.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head softly, “How about this?” She asked, ghosting her fingers down her sides to grasp the hem of the shirt, pulling it up slowly. His eyes widened, a hand reaching out to splay across her stomach almost chasing the hem as it drifted upward. She stopped just shy of exposing herself, Chan’s fingertips sliding under the fabric just enough to make contact with the skin of her breasts.

“You don’t have to, we can just—“ he began, but choked on air when she pulled the material higher. The crisp air conditioning and the hunger in his eyes gave her goosebumps.

“It’s called building anticipation, Channie. You have to work for it. I have to know you want it before I give you the whole thing,” she smiled innocently, taking the hem between her teeth.

He stared at her for a second, pupils dilating as they darted across her form, going from her face to her tits and back, unable to stay in one place. The way his eyes devoured her made her ears burn, and she could feel the fabric of her thong dampening where she sat, perched on his hardening cock. Then, his eyes locked with hers and a grin spread across his face, “Can I touch you?” He asked, making her nod, “Then stay just like that then, baby.”

His wet, pink lips making contact with her bare skin surprised her, pulling a gasp from her mouth. His fingers ghosted up and down her sides, eventually trailing down her back to rest on her ass, fingertips sneaking just under the hem of her shorts while his big hands kneaded into the dimpled skin.

Her arms tightened around him, holding him in his place as he sucked purple bruises into her chest; bright cascading marks across both of her breasts and sternum. Then, she felt his breath on her nipple, the warmth of it compared to the glacial air pouring into the room from the air conditioner was enough to have a fresh set of goosebumps break out across her skin. But his plush lips closing around the stiff bud made her squeal, accidentally pulling on his hair harder than she intended and forcing him to release her nipple with a wet pop.

She looked down at him, an apology on her lips, but the look on his face stopped her. His eyes were shut, and his mouth hung open in a soundless moan. Only then did she feel the way his hands were grasping her, knuckles white as they knotted themselves in the fabric of her shorts.

The image of him, so utterly wrecked under her hands, because of her, was burned into her brain. She would never forget the way he looked in this moment — it was electrifying. Her mouth dropped open in shock, the hem of his shirt falling onto the tops of her breasts, as she watched his jaw snap shut, the tendons and veins of his neck popping as his eyes flew open. His gaze seemed to pin her down as he heaved out a breath, refusing to break eye contact with her.

The silence made her shiver, the wet spot on her shorts growing as the tension in the room seemed to thicken, “Are you okay?”

He nodded, eyebrows narrowing when he saw the hem of his shirt start to fall, covering her tits. “I told you to stay like that, pretty girl. Channie wants to make you feel good.” With that, he pulled the fabric back up, exposing her.

The white hot burn of his words roared in her ears as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers again, slower this time, sucking her lip in between his teeth before giving her a sharp nip. The zing of pleasure pain ripped up her spine, making her gasp and eyes flutter shut. She felt the cotton of his shirt on her tongue, taking that as her cue to take it between her teeth again.

“Now, am I allowed to fuck you, my sweet Sugar Plum?” His syrupy voice made her head spin, the please she managed to whine out was muffled by his shirt. But his chuckle let her know he understood.

For a second she was weightless before her back hit the mattress with a small oof. She opened her eyes, unable to suppress the giggle at the sight of Chan with a condom wrapper still stuck between his teeth as he rolled it on his cock, standing at the edge of the bed with his clothes strewn behind him.

“Don’t laugh, you’re next,” he grinned, reaching over to her. Chan tugged her shorts and underwear off with a single decisive yank before flinging them behind him.

He hovered over her, eyes roaming her bare form, his free hand tracing patterns into her skin. She could tell he was stuck in his own head — probably filtering through the same scenarios as hers was. She sighed fondly, pushing him off onto his back, making him lay down where he had been before.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him by crawling back onto his lap, perched perfectly over his cock. She had felt its size before, but now, feeling it against her without the barrier of clothing, it made her eyes roll back in pleasure. Chan seemed content to let her take control for the moment, hands free to roam and grasp whatever he desired as she trailed her nails up his neck softly, relishing in the hiss that came out of his mouth.

She smiled, grinding down on him with an experimental roll of her hips, both hands gripping his chest, to both steady herself and to feel the muscle under her hands. The satisfied moan caught in her throat, the friction being nearly too much to handle after all the buildup of tension.

“Fuck. You’re so good,” he nearly purred, one of his gorgeous, massive hands holding onto her hips. “So good for me,” he cooed, pushing the thumb of his free hand past her lips.

She ground down on his erection, spit leaking from the corner of her mouth lewdly as he pushed down on her tongue with the pad of his finger, keeping her head still while the other directed her hips.

“Gonna fuck you now, s’that okay baby?” He slurred, his head tipping back as he bucked his hips into hers unconsciously. She nodded, mewls of approval falling from her open mouth making him laugh. A pleased hum left him as he stared at her, removing his thumb from between her lips with a pop. “Ready?”

She nodded absently, too fixated on the golden expanse of his forearms to properly retain any of the words he was saying. Illuminated only by the long forgotten movie, his hands were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The veins and tendons coiling under the skin, wide palms that bled into long, thick gorgeous fingers, which just so happened to be holding something else long and thick, something she wanted nearly as much as his hands: his cock. Hard and leaking pearly beads of pre cum that made her drool and her pussy clench in excitement.

“I told you, just ask and Channie will do it,” he smiled, aligning his cock with her entrance, the blunt head pressed against her firmly.

She nodded, her nails digging into his chest as her eyes rolled back, feeling him press into her slowly; the stretch was almost painful but felt so satisfying. She choked on her groan, fingers tightening in his hair. She could have sworn she felt him in the back of her throat he was hitting so deep.

Without thinking, she pulled herself almost all the way off him before dropping back into his lap forcefully, ripping deep, low moans out of the both of them. “Do it again,” he whispered as she began riding him desperately.

“Fucking Christ, you’re unreal,” he praised, his hips meeting her thrusts evenly. Her mouth fell open, unable to stop the whines that poured out of her.

“Channie,” she moaned shamelessly, her eyes fluttering shut as he pounded into her. All at once, she was overwhelmed; the sweat beading on her shoulders and the feeling of the ribbed cotton rustling against her sensitive, purple bitten skin. She struggled to grasp the fabric, fighting to pull it off her body, before pleading to him, “Need it off, please.”

She felt weightless for a second as he flipped them over, her back now on the mattress. She hadn’t even realized he had managed to pull the shirt off her until she felt the soft, silky sheets under her. “Good?” He asked.

Her simple nod was all he needed to resume. The sheer force of his thrusts forced the sounds out of her — desperate, whiny, needy little moans that would have made her embarrassed on any other day — the ability to speak no longer in her grasp. She could feel the knot tightening in her abdomen, turning to bury her face in the pillow to muffle her scream as she came undone but only found Chan’s wrist planted into the mattress next to her.

She shook as the waves of her orgasm wracked through her body, a high pitched squeal wrenching out of her vocal cords. Without thinking, she bit down on his forearm, suppressing the obscene and delirious sound of her orgasm crashing into her.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You’re so hot,” he groaned, his thrusts shallowing as he worked her through her orgasm.

The soft, genuine affirmations from him were more meaningful than anything she had been told in the entirety of her previous relationship. It made her heart flutter helplessly against her ribcage; she was smitten. Chan had wormed his way into her head and her heart and that simple fact terrified her, but for some reason, she was also put at ease. It might have been the fact that Felix trusted him, or the fact that he was so effortlessly nice to her without seemingly any reason, but she had no doubt Chan would never hurt her like Christian had.

Once the sparks of overstimulation faded, she sighed, opening her eyes to meet Chan’s soft gaze. “You okay, Sugar Plum?” She nodded, smiling up at him dazedly, “Do you wanna stop? Or can I—“

“Keep going, Channie,” she croaked, letting the soft buzzing glow of her first orgasm fade as he began to move. His pace was much slower than before, more deliberate and tender. It gave her the opportunity to study his face, hovering inches above hers. She wanted to memorize it all; the slightly overgrown slit in his eyebrow, the two small holes under his lip — one in the center and the other in the left corner — she assumed from piercings, the glint of silver in his nostril. The affection growing in her chest became overwhelming, tightening around her heart like a corset. She had to close her eyes, hoping it would stop the emotions from clawing up her throat.

“Open your eyes for me, Sugar Plum,” he pleaded into her ear, his teeth grazing her ear. “Look at me, baby.”

She keened, all of the sensations coming back to her at once as she opened her eyes. His fingertips against her scalp, the undeniable fullness, his sharp puffs of air against her cheek, his taught stomach against her thighs.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, hovering over her for a moment, staring into her eyes as he caressed her face softly, his dimples beginning to show. She couldn’t force words out, each one dying on her lips, so she grabbed the hand he had spread out across her ribs and pushed it up to wrap around her neck gingerly. He flexed his fingers experimentally, tightening ever so slightly. Her body reacted immediately, her walls fluttering against his length. In response, her hand slithered up his torso to rest against his thick neck. She could feel his heart racing under her fingertips, stretched out almost painfully wide against him. The shuddering breath she got from him was all the confirmation she needed. He shivered, and groaned, snapping his hips into hers before rasping out, “God you’re fucking everything.”

She felt him chuckle darkly as her second orgasm approached fast, her vision nearly going black with the force of its impending devastation as he resumed his thrusts. Her only tether to reality was Chan’s hand on her throat and hers on his.

“Fuck, kiss me, please,” she croaked, pulling him closer as her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave.

He groaned, his hips stuttering to a stop as he collapsed onto her, his lips finding hers as if they were drawn together like magnets. “Fucking incredible,” Chan mumbled into her lips before dropping himself onto her like a weighted blanket.

They spent the next few minutes like that; he busied himself with casting a constellation of featherlight kisses up her neck and across her cheeks as she trailed her fingers down his spine, basking in the afterglow. The momentary disconnection from reality has stopped her brain to mouth filter from working, and she blurted out, “I’m glad you thought to wear a condom. Calling the front desk for new sheets would be a pain in the ass.”

Chan stopped mid kiss, raising an eyebrow in her direction as he looked at her through his eyelashes before his shoulders began to shake with laughter. “Why was that even a thought right now?”

“I don’t know! That’s just what I was thinking! I’m sorry you fucked the filter out of my brain!” She whined covering her face with her hands.

“No, don’t be shy, the only reason I’m keeping my mouth busy down here is so I don’t say something stupid,” he cooed. She peaked at him from between her fingers, watching the realization of his words spread across his face as he cringed, then buried himself in her stomach. “Don’t laugh at me, I'm sensitive.”

Chan’s embarrassed mumbles into her skin and the unintentional hilarity of his, and her own, words made giggles bubble out of her. “No, it was cute, and I’m ticklish,” she argued.

His head snapped up, a devious look on his face. But before she could protest, Chan’s phone was blaring an unfamiliar ringtone from somewhere on the floor behind him.

Suddenly, the bubble they had created popped, and the harsh reality seeped into her. Chan was still a relative stranger despite how trustworthy and genuine he seemed to be, she was still dealing with the emotional devastation of her previous relationship’s spontaneous implosion, and they had breached an unspoken rule less than 24 hours after meeting one another: Felix was still Chan’s friend and roommate, and the last thing she ever wanted to do was cause problems between them. And she knew all she ever did was cause problems.

She had to shut off whatever part of herself that was developing feelings for him. He was too kind, too caring, and too wonderful for her to diminish. This one time would have to be enough for her, for them.

“I should see who that is,” Chan whispered, planting one last kiss on her sternum. She watched him slip off the bed, finding his phone with relative ease before bringing it up to his ear. “Hello?”

The absolute panic on his face made her blood run cold — it meant only one thing. Felix was calling.

“Yeah mate, you lost your room key?” His voice bordered on panicked, but she wondered if that was just her own panic seeping into her. “Oh, and they won’t give you one without her approval? Okay…” he nodded, gathering his clothes from the floor, an apologetic look cast in her direction before he froze. “You’re down the hall? Okay, uh, I’ll open the door for you, no worries. Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s asleep. See you soon.” He threw his phone on the bed, stepping into his shorts hastily.

“Go, and close the door behind you! He won’t ask any questions,” she hissed, pulling the sheet up to cover her body.

Chan frowned at her, perching himself back into the bed on his knees next to her, “I don’t like leaving you like this, it feels wrong.”

She chuckled, feeling the bittersweet stab in her chest. In another life, Chan would have been her ideal partner. “I’m okay. Go, you don’t have time for this.”

He frowned, but nodded, “I know. I don’t like it though,” he whispered, before leaning forward, pressing his lips to hers again hurriedly. “Goodnight, Sugar Plum. I’ll see you in a few days.”

With that, he pushed himself off the bed, and jogged the distance to the connecting door, throwing one last look at her over his shoulder before disappearing. Leaving her to mourn the what-if’s and what-could-have-been's alone. The way she’d always been.

---

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