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Jisung, for all that he's bright, consistently comes up with the worst ideas.
“Let's have a pool party for our birthday!” he said.
Silly Jisung with his silly ideas that get Felix into silly situations.
He shivers as Chan—his best friend's brother, which makes him totally, absolutely, resoundingly, incredibly off limits—licks a line up his naked torso. He doesn't have to try too hard to guess what he tastes like. Skin, salt, chlorine. He's allowed a taste anyways, because Chan licks up, up, up; drags his tongue flat up the side of Felix's neck, like a dog; and then licks into Felix's mouth.
The kiss is dirty, too wet, too slick. Both because they're fresh from the pool and because Felix is drooling as he grinds his hips futilely against nothing, until he whines loud enough for Chan to take mercy on him—whether to make him feel good or to shut him up, Felix doesn't know.
It's still not enough. Felix digs his fingers meanly into Chan's shoulders, they skid on his damp skin. He's warm from the unrelenting sun. Solid. Wide. Makes the sweetest noise that seems to linger, echoing off the kitschy patterned walls.
“Baby,” he says, sneaking a hand into Felix's swimming trunks. His fingers feel ice cold when they wrap around his cock.
Felix squeaks rather pitifully; Chan doesn't seem to mind at all. If anything, the smooth motions of his hand and the perfectly calculated pressure of his strokes read as intentional.
They've been doing this for long enough that Chan knows how to get him loud. Get him undone.
If he didn't want Felix to make the most horrendous noises, he would be less good at jerking him off. It's simple, really.
But no. Instead of being less good, Chan drops to his knees. Looks up at him with something like devotion in his eyes. Pulls down his trunks. Kisses the head of his cock with the same reverence he kisses his mouth.
This is punishable by death, surely.
If Jisung were to open the door to the stall they've chosen to defile, he would bash Felix's head against the tile wall. Rightfully so. Felix would do the same if he found Jisung with Minho.
And yet, he doesn't stop. Doesn't ask Chan to stop, either. Tangles his fingers in wet curls, guides Chan further and further down his cock, soaking in the wet, warm heat, the plush feel of his tongue.
His orgasm is sudden. Too sudden for him to warn Chan. He doesn't seem to mind. Seems to enjoy it. Even more so when he returns to his full height and feeds Felix's own cum back to him.
Felix's hand is shaky and unsteady when he digs into Chan's swimsuit, eager to return the favor.
“Baby,” Chan says again. His mouth left agape when his next sentence is forcefully restrained when the door to the very public bathroom they're in creaks in complaint.
A stall slams open and closed. They stand stone still. It should be awkward. Felix with his dick out and softening; Chan trying to telepathically convey something to him. It's not awkward. Somehow. They share glances and amused smiles.
Felix steals another kiss, slower this time. Taking Chan's cock fully into his hand, mimicking his earlier measured pace.
“Hyung,” someone squeaks in another stall.
Chan's breath gets caught somewhere in his throat, stumbles on its way up. Felix bites Chan's lip, speeds up his rhythm.
He's the birthday boy. He's allowed to torture his not-boyfriend. He'll apologize later, anyways. Get sweet and gentle like Chan likes.
“Hyung,” it's reiterated, faraway.
Felix couldn't care less. He's nowhere near caring. The only thing he cares about is making Chan cum so they can go back outside and pretend like they only vaguely know each other, like Felix doesn't know how Chan's cock feels in him, like they haven't fallen asleep together before and woke up in a hazy, domestic daydream. So the party can end quicker, so the night comes upon them and he can sneak into Chan's room to steal more kisses, more touches, more time.
Chan's nails dig into his waist when he cums—mostly in Felix's hand but partially in his shorts. Thank God there's showers here.
“Jisungie,” is the reply. “Sweetheart.”
Felix frowns. Chan mirrors the gesture.
“Minho-hyung.”
Oh.
Well.