Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/9564614.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: EXO (Band)
Relationship: Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Park Chanyeol, side
pairings: - Relationship, Kim Joonmyun |
Suho/Oh Sehun, Byun Baekhyun/Zhang Yi
Xing | Lay, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Huang Zi
Tao | Z.Tao/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Character: Park Chanyeol, Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Oh
Sehun, Kim Joonmyun | Suho, Byun
Baekhyun, Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Kim Jongin
| Kai, Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Do Kyungsoo | D.O,
Kim Jongdae | Chen, Lu Han, Kim Heechul,
Kim Kibum | Key
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Fluff and
Smut, Angst, Dom/sub, Bottom Park
Chanyeol, Top Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Dirty
Talk, Rimming, Explicit Language, Frottage,
Overstimulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial,
Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink,
Exhibitionism
Series: Part 1 of proximity 'verse
Stats: Published: 2017-02-03 Completed: 2017-10-
24 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 73210

looks, proximity, power

by diphylleia
Summary

Sehun and Baekhyun have a problem; his name is Kim Minseok.

Their solution? Park Chanyeol.

[in which Sehun and Baekhyun convince Chanyeol to be their

last-resort sugar baby to the country's most successful lawyer.]

Notes
See the end of the work for notes
 Chapter 1

In hindsight, Chanyeol really should have expected Sehun’s ulterior

motive the moment he’d paid for another round of shots – Sehun was
tight-fisted, a modern age scrooge where money was considered. The
last time he’d paid for anything, it came right before a ‘haha so I kinda
need to live with you until further notice thanks I love you too’ and
Chanyeol hadn’t bothered to ask. The younger annoyance also refused
to pay rent until they moved to a nicer apartment.

“So,” Sehun started, the irritating spark in his eyes, “I found out some
rather interesting news through a mutual contact.”

Chanyeol stared at him across the table, “If your contact is Baekhyun-”

“Hear me out,” Sehun interrupted, sliding one of the shots across to

Chanyeol as a peace offering.

The bass from the nearby speaker thudded through Chanyeol’s chest as
he sighed in resignation, “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to
drag me into this.”

“We can agree that I lied,” His best friend continued, toying with his
own glass, “You’re broke and listen, it hurts to see you eating cheap-
ass cereal with a cheap-ass spoon when we both know you could be
eating cheap-ass cereal with a golden spoon.”

“I like my cheap-ass cereal, Sehun.”

“A little birdy told me you were looking to buy a studio-”

“I told you that,” Chanyeol interrupted, “Literally last night.”

“And I have a solution,” Sehun resumed, “All I’m asking is that you
consider it – the moment something happens you don’t like, I’ll drop
it.”

Chanyeol sighed at the innocent face his best friend was attempting to
pull across the table, “You’re serious about this.”

“I want to live in a better apartment and we both know you can’t afford
to go half with me on something with more class.”

He snorted, “Class? You don’t even pay rent right now.”

Sehun didn’t bother to retaliate, “Junmyeon has a friend. A lawyer

friend.”

“Your lawyer boyfriend has a lawyer friend,” Chanyeol repeated,

“Consider me shocked.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sehun scowled as Chanyeol rolled his eyes,

“And believe me when I say that you’re my last resort. ‘Myeon asked
me to mention it.”

Chanyeol threw back his shot, motioning with his other hand for
Sehun to continue. He liked Junmyeon – Junmyeon brought food when
he visited and chastised Sehun for being a brat (and there was also the
main fact that Junmyeon made his best friend very happy). Sehun was
in denial about his feelings for his sugar daddy and Chanyeol would
rather not instigate something in that mess.

“Nobody is working out for this guy. It’s making us look bad,” Sehun
sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “We even tried Baek.”

“How did you conclude that I was your answer?” Chanyeol asked, his
laugh slightly incredulous, “If your fussy sugar daddy turned down
Byun Baekhyun, why are you even asking me?”

“Hold up, he never said ‘turned down’,” Byun Baekhyun corrected,

sliding into the seat next to Sehun, “We got off, it was great – I didn’t
even charge him.”
Chanyeol threw back another shot. He should’ve found new friends
when he’d had the chance.

“We agreed I was talking to him,” Sehun scowled in greeting.

“I’m necessary,” Baekhyun answered, taking the remaining shot

without asking, “You’re getting nowhere with our timid little
Chanyeol.”

Sehun snorted, “Our?”

“Timid?” Chanyeol glared.

“Mr Kim is willing to pay more than anyone I’ve ever met,” Baekhyun
continued, ignoring them both, “Which would make you the most
expensive sugar baby I know. Zitao’s gonna be pissed.”

“I still don’t see where I fit into this.”

“We know you’re not inexperienced,” Baekhyun started, a grin

forming on his lips.

“We also know you like to complain every time you get drunk that
there’s something obviously dissatisfying each time you get laid,”
Sehun finished.

The two shared a look as Chanyeol sunk back into his seat.

“You’re tall,” Sehun stated after a moment.

“Good observation.”

“Taller than him,” Baekhyun added.

“Why is that important?”

“And, y’know, the biggest fucking sub-,” Baekhyun said bluntly,

wincing when Sehun kicked him beneath the table.
Chanyeol attempted nonchalance, looking between his friends’ heads
instead of at them, “And how would you know that?”

After a beat of silence, Sehun said, “Your porn folder is saved to our
shared online account.”

And really, he should’ve seen that coming.

“Oh,” Chanyeol croaked. The blush crawling up his neck turned his
ears pink and the word dumbass flashed behind his eyelids when he
blinked. Of course Sehun would snake his way into Chanyeol’s shit.

“It’s your decision,” Sehun replied, tone slightly softer than before,
“Just think about it.”

Sehun reached into Baekhyun’s pocket and pulled out an expensive

looking business card. Of course he had a business card.

Chanyeol stared at the black card a moment before taking it, reading
the squared white font on the centre of one side, “Mr Kim.
Ambiguous.”

“Think about it this way,” Baekhyun began, resting his elbows on the
table and a shameless smirk on his face, “You get fucked the right way
and make money doing it. Mr Kim gets de-stressed and a pretty little
brunette to call his baby. Me and Sehun keep our platinum status. It’s a
win-win.”

“And if he doesn’t like me?” Chanyeol asked, flipping the card over to
glance at the numbers. His face felt hot.

“Then it ends there, no problem,” Sehun answered easily.

He fidgeted with the card, “So… What? Am I supposed to text him?

Isn’t that a little…informal?”

“People text, Chanyeol, that’s a thing that people do.”

Chanyeol slid the card into his pocket, filing it away as a problem for
sober him. He was well aware of his friends’ chosen lifestyle and
though he’d be reluctant to admit it out loud, they weren’t wrong – not
to be cliché but sex and money were two things Chanyeol could get
behind. Or beneath. It had been a while since he’d found himself
satisfied after getting laid.

Sometime during the night when Drunk Chanyeol deemed it

appropriate to lack inhibition, he typed out the numbers in white font
and text a single ‘hello’.

Rolling over, Chanyeol buried his head beneath his pillow and tried to
put off thinking for a few moments longer. Considering how much
they’d drank the night before, Chanyeol wasn’t feeling all that bad –
minus his dry tongue and the overall grogginess that seeped into his
mind. It could be worse; he could be throwing up, like he’d heard
Baekhyun do at some ungodly hour in the morning. He reaped what he
sowed, and what he sowed was betting Jongin he’d drink him under
the table.

Chanyeol enjoyed the mornings he wasn’t forced to drag himself out

of bed – the mornings where he could lay and allow his mind to linger
in limbo and think about nothing more than how good it felt to be
beneath his 300 blankets.

The vibrating of his phone brought his short no-thinking session to an

end and he rolled over, running his hand along the floor until he found
the offending object. Even after turning the brightness to its lowest,
Chanyeol had to squint at his screen to make out the words.

[unknown number]
‘And who might this be, hm?’
Frowning, Chanyeol swiped to open the text from the unfamiliar
number and upon reading his own ‘hello’, allowed his head to drop,
limp, back onto the bed. So yeah, he’d done that. It wasn’t like he had
anything to lose and he’d never been directly against the idea. He
stared at his phone screen for a few moments longer before typing out
the words that came first to his mind and tapping send.

‘i was under the impression you were expecting me’

With reluctance weighing him down, Chanyeol dragged himself out of

bed and into the shower. His mind was only half aware as he cleaned
himself, stray thoughts panning out his empty day. He wasn’t
struggling for money – money was tight, sure, he couldn’t afford the
same luxuries as Sehun and their apartment was falling apart; but it
wasn’t like he depended on those luxuries. His day job as sound
management at a theatre in the city was enough to sustain him when
paired with the odd shifts he covered for Jongin at the club.

So maybe he was three weeks behind on rent and Sehun refused to

contribute to said rent until they moved apartments.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair for the last time as he shut
off the water and began to towel himself dry. The extra money would
be good – he could move apartments, maybe even consider looking for
cheap studios to spend his time doing work he actually wanted to do. It
wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought about it, especially when he
was already accustomed to the normality of it having been around
Sehun and Baekhyun long enough.

Pulling on one of his lazy day sweaters, he flopped down onto his bed
and unlocked his phone.

[unknown number]
‘Ah, Park Chanyeol.’

Chanyeol stared at the reply until another message caused the phone to
vibrate in his hand.
‘Let’s get dinner.’

So soon? It hardly sounded like a question. Chanyeol’s heart rate had

already tripled and the man hadn’t even introduced himself. He’d
expected the lawyer to be less… abrupt somehow. What was he
supposed to reply? ‘Sure’? ‘Sounds good’? What if he came across as
too casual? Sehun had mentioned the man was fussy (or, to quote his
best friend: picky as fuck), what if Chanyeol put him off before they’d
even had a chance to meet? He swallowed his thoughts as he typed.
And deleted his sentence. And typed again. Baekhyun had told him
that be himself, that he was fitting enough – whatever that meant.

‘depends. are you taking me somewhere nice?’

After hitting send, he threw his phone onto his bed and went to grab
breakfast. Lunch. A late lunch.

His day was free, meaning he and Sehun wasted their time recovering
from the night before and complaining about leg space when
Baekhyun lay across them to play whatever video game he’d left at
theirs the last time they’d gotten together. Each time his phone buzzed,
Sehun lifted an eyebrow but commented no more as Chanyeol and Mr
Kim exchanged minor details – the nearest time they were both free, if
Chanyeol knew where a particular restaurant was or if he needed Mr
Kim to send him a car, which led onto exchanging addresses… and
Chanyeol’s account number.

“The dinner is probably so he can decide whether or not you’re the

person he’s looking for,” Baekhyun said later that night as he pulled on
his shoes to leave, “Don’t sweat it – I have a good feeling about you.
Name one time I was wrong.”

“How much did you bet Jongin?” Sehun snorted, giving Baekhyun a
shove towards the door, “You were wrong in thinking you could
seduce Mr Kim.”

“You should’ve seen him, Sehun, he was way stronger than I

anticipated, but, cute,” He then paused, “A ripped bunny.”
“Goodnight, Baekhyun,” Sehun finalised and shut the door, wandering
back to drop onto the sofa with Chanyeol, “When’s the date?”

“Tuesday,” Chanyeol yawned in reply, “Why?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you dress yourself,” Sehun informed,

eyelids shutting, “Gotta send you all nice and pretty in pants so tight
‘dinner’ will be the last thing on Mr Kim’s mind.”

“I’m starting to think you care more about your ‘business’ reputation
than my lack of experience in this.”

“Well, yeah,” Sehun replied, “Did he mention anything about after

dinner?”

“Told me to keep my schedule empty,” He answered, “Just in case, I

guess.”

Sehun hummed, “We’ll see.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to breathe in the late city air; it wasn’t cold,
but the last of the summer heat had started to dwindle and it left a chill
in the air. They’d agreed on a later dinner and so Chanyeol found
himself stood outside a rather upper-class restaurant in an area of the
city he ventured into rarely. Chanyeol wasn’t a stranger to fancy foods
and expensive clothing – but after he’d cut contact with his parents and
relied solely on the money he earned, he hadn’t any reason to live
expensively. If only they could see him now – see what he was about
to do.

It was a satisfying thought.

He felt oddly calm, Sehun had reminded him multiple times that this
wasn’t something he had to do. He’d had days to think about it – he’d
had days to come to the conclusion that this was something he wanted
to do.

The doorman smiled at Chanyeol as he approached and Chanyeol

bowed slightly in thanks, letting his eyes wander over the interior of
the restaurant. It felt like any other overpriced restaurant his parents
and ‘friends’ had dragged him to over the years – but he refused to let
that dampen the small thread of excitement he felt. He made his way
over to the bar, picking up a menu to distract himself from the wait.

He wasn’t left waiting long.

“Park Chanyeol,” The voice greeted, tone confident and calm.

Chanyeol turned, the smile pulling at his lips as he replied, “Mr Kim.”

“You look good.”

“You look-” Chanyeol’s eyes met the stranger’s and he had to bite his
tongue to stop himself saying something dumb, “Good,” He then
swallowed, “You look good, too.”

Beautiful, was the word Chanyeol was looking for. You have the most
endearing eyes I’ve ever seen in my life, is what he wanted to say –
that the man glowed. That his suit fit him perfectly, that despite the
man’s smaller height, in frame he was larger than Chanyeol – his suit
jacket hugged his broad shoulders and left little to the imagination.
Instead, Chanyeol blushed, he stared; and blushed harder when he
noticed the amused tilt to the older man’s lips and his own incredulous
behaviour.

Pull it together, man.

“Should we sit?” Mr Kim asked and Chanyeol nodded, not trusting his
voice to act in his favour.
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting – but he was certain it wasn’t
this.

They were shown to a lone table near the back of the restaurant – a
table that was reserved, Chanyeol noted as he sat down carefully and
tried to keep his long limbs from doing something embarrassing. It
was silent for a few moments as Chanyeol kept his gaze focused on the
menu (unable to read, just staring), he assumed Mr Kim was doing the
same until he stole a glance upwards, only to meet the eyes of the man
in question. He did not blush – he was not some inexperienced teen
who struggled to last 5 minutes in the bedroom. Park Chanyeol was
not blushing.

He wanted to crawl beneath the table and hide beneath the table cloth
costlier than his rent.

“So,” Mr Kim started, his lips twitching upwards, “Nervous?”

“No,” Chanyeol said all too quickly, wanting to narrow his eyes at the
way the older man grinned, “I’m not usually like this.”

“You’re not usually shy and prepubescent?” He was teasing him.

Chanyeol scowled.

He closed over the menu, holding onto his scowl as he replied, “I’m
not used to being on this side of the table. I’m usually the one…
making an impression.”

“Ah, so it’s my fault?” Mr Kim smirked, waiting for Chanyeol’s

resigned nod, “I see. You’re cute.”

Chanyeol groaned, swallowing his retaliation and instead mumbling,

“You’re not funny.”

He found it easier to relax when the waiter appeared to list their orders,
Mr Kim offering to buy an expensive (see also: the most expensive)
bottle of wine and Chanyeol agreeing under the condition that Mr Kim
drank most of it. They both ordered their food and Chanyeol found
himself unable to look away from the other man as he spoke to their
waiter – Chanyeol was slightly taken aback by the easy boldness that
the other man revelled in, perhaps by how smooth his words sounded
on his tongue. The way he held himself demanded attention and yet the
other appeared more relaxed than Chanyeol tried to look.

Most certainly a lawyer, Chanyeol thought, but not quite the type he
was used to.

When he finished ordering, he looked back to Chanyeol and smiled

comfortably. For a split second, Chanyeol felt like he was dying.
Without being too dramatic.

“A lawyer,” Chanyeol distracted himself by asking, “Is it stressful?”

“At times,” The other agreed, his eyes not leaving Chanyeol’s, “Are
you a student?”

“I was,” He replied, the empty wine glass suddenly more interesting to

stare at than before.

Mr Kim nodded, “Any particular reason you’re not, anymore?”

Parents. Arrogance. His own pride. He had been the one to terminate
his relationship with his parents, refusing to accept a cent and moving
to a city they’d never find him at the cost of his education. He never
would’ve been eligible for scholarships with the kind of money his
parents made.

“A long story – maybe I’ll share it next time.”

“Next time,” The eyes that had previously winded Chanyeol were even
more breath-taking when Mr Kim smiled, “That does sound
promising.”

The man was undoubtedly beautiful – but Chanyeol was no stranger to

beautiful men, so that left him with the question of why. Why was he
so easily effected by a man he’d never even met before? Chanyeol was
flustered, he wanted to impress the elder without making a fool out of
himself in the process.

Chanyeol swallowed, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table, “I

was told you were the one I needed to impress.”

Chuckling, the lawyer started to pour wine into Chanyeol’s glass,

“Believe me, you’re more than adequate.”

Looking up, Chanyeol found his mind at a loss as to how he was

supposed to reply. He chose to let the moment go and watch the rising
red liquid in his glass, unsure how his choices in life had led to him
having dinner with one of the most beautiful men he’d ever met.
Perhaps he should’ve let Sehun talk him into this sooner.

“Your voice is deeper than I expected,” The lawyer continued, filling

his own glass next.

“Is that a problem,” Chanyeol asked, looking back to the other man as
he added, “Mr Kim?”

“Not at all,” He replied easily, an amused glint to his eyes, “Call me

Minseok.”

“Kim Minseok,” Chanyeol repeated the name, it felt good to say and
he tried not to think about the way it would sound in other
circumstances, “I was unsure if you planned on keeping your name a
secret.”

“I considered it,” Minseok admitted, “If this hadn’t worked out, I

would’ve.”

“Worked out?”

“Our arrangement,” He informed, leaning back in his chair, “The

decision is yours.”

“Mine?”
“Mhm. Are you going to answer or are you going to continue repeating
the things I say back to me?”

That was all it took for Minseok to force Chanyeol’s blush to rise to
his cheeks.

“I wasn’t expecting… I mean – so easily?”

“You seem surprised,” Minseok returned, watching Chanyeol fumble

over his words, “Were you expecting something else?”

Chanyeol sipped the wine, clearing his throat, “My answer is yes.”

“I know. I was curious as to how long you’d continue embarrassing

yourself.”

“I don’t think I like you.”

“That’s a shame, should I get the bill?” Minseok smiled sweetly.

“Shut up.”

Stood in an elevator next to Kim Minseok made Chanyeol as excited

as he was nervous. The other man was smaller and yet his presence
made Chanyeol feel half his height – it had been the same at dinner.
They’d made idle chatter, filled the time even though they were both
aware they wanted nothing more than to return to Minseok’s
apartment.

They had just been picked up by Minseok’s driver when Chanyeol’s

uncertainty had set in.

“I’m new to this,” Chanyeol had admitted over the quiet hum of the
car engine with Minseok’s hand on his thigh.
Minseok had glanced up at him, a softer expression on his face as he’d
replied, “I know, Junmyeon informed me that Sehun already
threatened to cut up my favourite tie if I stepped out of line.”

“All I’m getting from this is Junmyeon is a snitch and you have a
favourite tie?” It was Chanyeol’s turn to tease, “Suddenly you’re not
half as scary as you seem.”

“You thought I was scary, that is cute. You don’t have to worry, I think
there will be something satisfying in taking this slow,” There was
obvious suggestion in Minseok’s words, his hand feeling heavier on
Chanyeol’s thigh, “Drawing it out.”

Chanyeol hid his blush beneath the collar of his own jacket, pulling the
lapels up to cover his face. Kim fucking Minseok effected Chanyeol’s
blood pressure more than any unhealthy lifestyle ever could.

The world beyond the elevator was not one Chanyeol had been
expecting. He’d expected Minseok to have money – more than enough
money, a highly paid lawyer, good at his job, a hard worker, no time
for family but enough time to waste money on pleasure. No, Chanyeol
was walking into the penthouse apartment of one the highest fucking
skyrise buildings in the city. He’d expected Minseok to have a nice
apartment; penthouse of a small apartment building at best.

Did Minseok work for fucking gold? The carpet beneath his feet felt
like memory foam. It had been ten seconds and Chanyeol was already
feeling like Sehun played him.

Walking through the living area, he allowed his eyes to scan across the
expanse of floor to ceiling windows that served Chanyeol with a
beautiful skyline horizon view, the moon felt a lot larger than before.
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he turned to stare at Minseok in
slight disbelief.

“I thought you were a lawyer.”

“I am,” Minseok replied, heading towards the kitchen in the corner
without expanding.

“What kind of lawyer…” Chanyeol murmured, turning back to the

darkened sky that felt a lot closer than it did an hour ago, “I got it –
you’re a corrupt lawyer accepting under-the-table money to fix cases
for rich mafia bosses.”

Minseok laughed, “Maybe I’ll share – next time.”

“Touché,” Chanyeol replied, squashing down the thought of wow I

really like that laugh if there was one sound I had to listen to for the
rest of my life-

He shut his mind up by wandering around the open plan living area.
The carpet really felt like memory foam. Fluffier.

Minseok took his time pouring out two glasses of an amber Chanyeol
didn’t recognise from look alone. It was when he held out Chanyeol’s
glass that he noticed Minseok had rolled up his dress shirt sleeves to
reveal tan, toned forearms. His tongue felt dry. Averting his eyes, he
took the glass and sat himself quietly on the sofa, anticipation already
settling low in his stomach.

“Are you seeing anyone, Chanyeol?”

The way Minseok said his name made Chanyeol’s grip on the glass
tighten.

“I’m not,” He replied, sipping his drink, “Are you?”

Scotch whiskey. Chanyeol hadn’t tasted something this expensive

since Sehun convinced him to break into his parent’s wine cellar
reserved for the grander parties. It had been a fun evening.

“I don’t have time for stringed commitment,” Minseok answered,

“What’s your excuse?”

“Never found permanency appealing,” Chanyeol admitted in honesty.

Placing his glass down on the glass table, Minseok hummed, “Take
your suit jacket off.”

Chanyeol complied, his skin feeling ten degrees hotter than seconds
ago. As much as he wanted to say the mood change was sudden, he’d
be lying – the moment Minseok had placed his hand on the small of
Chanyeol’s back and walked him to the car, Chanyeol had been willing
to drop to his knees and be good.

“Asking isn’t your thing?” Chanyeol placed his suit jacket on the sofa
next to him.

“I’m not the one who needs to ask,” Minseok replied, considerably
content.

“I see that,” Chanyeol replied, watching Minseok closely as he added,

“Mr Kim.”

Minseok’s lips tilted upwards slightly, “I was hoping you would,

Princess.”

It took a considerable amount of self-control for Chanyeol to bite back

the curse on the tip of his tongue. Princess. Chanyeol had never felt so
small – so turned on – in his life. He was used to being the one in
charge, on top, dominant; Minseok took all of that from him, stripped
him down with a simple tilt of his head, eyes watching for every tiny
move Chanyeol made. His eyes reminded Chanyeol of a cat, pretty,
sure, sly and deceiving – perched above a mouth and a tongue that
could tear him open.

“Stand up,” Minseok started, his finger trailing along the rim of his
glass, “And unbutton your shirt, for me.”

Chanyeol did so without a sound, the anticipation flooding his veins as

his fingers began to unbutton his shirt. He took his time – not too much
time – but enough time to not seem eager. Minseok huffed, raising an
eyebrow as Chanyeol undid the last button. He let his shirt fall open to
reveal the skin beneath.
“Something wrong?” Chanyeol asked, faking innocence with a smile.

“Come here.”

He moved to stand in front of the elder, his heart beating a little less
systematic than before. Even like this, looking down at Minseok –
even like this, with Minseok sat before him, Chanyeol was well aware
that none of the power in the room belonged to him. Chanyeol wasn’t
used to wanting things.

His breath hitched when he felt Minseok’s finger trailing along the
skin above his belt, his anticipation growing into something close to
want. The finger paused at his buckle, hooking lightly so he could
direct Chanyeol.

“On your knees,” Minseok’s voice was low, certain.

Chanyeol lowered himself to his knees, the expensive carpet providing

enough cushioning for comfort as Chanyeol fitted himself between
Minseok’s open legs. He remained silent, his arms hanging uselessly
by his sides itching to touch, to feel the other man with his hands. He
looked up, want swirling in his stomach at Minseok’s satisfaction.

“Can I...” Chanyeol trailed, his hands hesitating at his sides.

Minseok smirked, well aware of what Chanyeol was trying to ask,

“Use your words, Kitten.”

“Can I touch you?”

“Mhm.”

He placed his hands on Minseok’s knees, feeling the firm muscle

beneath his fingers as his hands followed the length of Minseok’s
thighs. Increasing the pressure of his hands, he traced his right hand
towards the elder’s hips and paused. Moving his eyes from his own
hands and to Minseok’s eyes in question, the other man gave him no
answer and instead watched, a curious look in his eyes. Chanyeol
dipped his hand into the softer inside of Minseok’s thighs.

Gaining more confidence in his actions, he drew nearer to Minseok’s

bulge and palmed him softly, watching Minseok carefully and ignoring
the fact that Minseok felt big and he wasn’t even fully hard.

“You never told me you were a tease,” Minseok said, his voice a little
more controlled than before.

“You never asked,” Chanyeol replied, before applying more pressure

with his palm, “I want to taste you.”

“Maybe if you ask. ”

“Mr Kim,” Chanyeol looked up, feigned innocence on his face as he

moved his hand against Minseok’s crotch, “Can I?”

“Can you what? I already told you to use your words, Kitten,”
Minseok trailed his fingers along the arm of the chair, “I don’t like to
repeat myself.”

Chanyeol swallowed, taking a breath. He was already hard and they

hadn’t even done anything – he wasn’t used to this, it was unfamiliar
and Chanyeol loved it. He wasn’t familiar with asking to suck his
partner’s cock and part of him already wanted to know what would
happen if he didn’t ask. He stored the thought for another time and bit
his lip.

“Can I taste your cock, Mr Kim?”

Minseok smiled – smirked – and Chanyeol’s breath caught in his

throat.

“Yes.”

Chanyeol’s hands were no longer hesitant as they undid Minseok’s belt

and trousers, not bothering to pull the elder’s trousers down and
instead just his underwear. He took Minseok into his mouth, using his
hands to pump where his mouth couldn’t yet reach and using his own
saliva to help the slide of his hands. Beneath him, Minseok groaned –
the sound went straight to Chanyeol’s dick.

Minseok let out a content breath, relaxing back into the chair and
tangling his hand in Chanyeol’s hair. He didn’t push, merely scratched
his nails gently against Chanyeol’s scalp and Chanyeol keened.

“So pretty,” Minseok praised, his words breathless as he continued to

tease his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.

Chanyeol’s lips were tingling, both from the alcohol and from having
them stretched around Minseok. He fell into a rhythm, taking Minseok
deeper each time – this wasn’t his first time blowing a dude, but it was
his first time blowing someone who resisted thrusting up into his
mouth. As much as he wanted that, as much as he wanted Minseok to
just tighten his grip and use his mouth, he was just as turned on by the
mere control Minseok exhibited over everything.

All too soon, Minseok was tugging him up by his hair and Chanyeol
whined – until Minseok pulled him in to kiss, a hand still tangled in his
hair as he licked into Chanyeol’s mouth. Chanyeol groaned into the
kiss, submitting completely to Minseok’s mouth and enjoying very
moment of it. Minseok wasn’t rough – his movements were strong,
confident, dominating and Chanyeol found himself whimpering into
the other’s mouth as his dick pressed against Minseok’s thigh.

“Take your pants off,” Minseok said as he broke from Chanyeol’s

mouth, littering small kisses down Chanyeol’s jawline as he spoke,
“Spread yourself out on the sofa, for me.”

Chanyeol complied, sliding both his pants and underwear off and
moving to sit on the sofa. Minseok waited for a moment, watching him
with his eyes dark. He ran his thumb along his own lower lip to clean
away the spit and Chanyeol almost moaned from the sight alone.
Minseok pushed himself up, moving to stand between Chanyeol’s
semi-spread legs.
When he lowered himself to his knees, Chanyeol almost whimpered.

Minseok’s hands were warm on Chanyeol’s legs, but they didn’t linger
long as Minseok pushed Chanyeol’s legs open wider.

“What are you...?” Chanyeol asked, aware that if he looked down his
chest would be tinted red with blush.

“I’m going to be honest,” Minseok started as he started stroking

Chanyeol’s cock, “I don’t usually do this.”

Chanyeol bit his lip to keep quiet as Minseok’s other hand began to
knead the muscle on the inside of Chanyeol’s thigh.

“But you look so fucking good.”

And with that, Minseok lowered his mouth to Chanyeol’s hole.

This time, Chanyeol whimpered, the entire bottom half of his body out
of his control – Minseok’s hand felt so good on his dick, but his
tongue, Chanyeol was fucked. His head lolled back as he continued to
moan, his arms trembling on the sofa – Minseok went on, moulding
Chanyeol into a mess beneath his hands and mouth.

It didn’t take long for Chanyeol’s moans to turn into something less
conceivable and when Minseok pulled his head away, his lips wet, the
strength in Chanyeol’s arms failed him and he fell back against the
sofa cushions. He was so fucked.

Minseok leaned away to receive something from a drawer under the

table and Chanyeol almost whimpered again at the mere thought of
what was about to happen. He was painfully hard, pre-come leaving a
small wet trail wherever it touched.

At the press of Minseok’s lubed finger to his entrance, the pleas fell
from Chanyeol’s lips without his full awareness.

“Please-just-oh.”
“That’s a good boy,” Minseok began, pumping his hand as he hummed
in thought, “You take my fingers so well, Princess. Do you finger
yourself, hm?”

Chanyeol tried to cover his face with his hand, well-aware he was
blushing harder than before – but one look from Minseok had him
lowering his hand back to the sofa. He nodded, biting down hard on
his bottom lip as he tried to keep his own hips still.

Minseok hummed again, kissing the inside of Chanyeol’s thigh as he

added another finger. The stretch wasn’t too uncomfortable but
Minseok distracted him with his mouth regardless, marking the
sensitive skin on Chanyeol’s thighs. Chanyeol was breathing hard,
hands digging into the soft cushions beneath him, he wanted more but
he knew he had no power here – this was Minseok’s pace and Minseok
wanted him wrecked.

By the fourth finger, Chanyeol was a mess – his breath left his lungs in
short pants and his mind screamed with want. When Minseok curled
his fingers up, Chanyeol also jolted up, a sob leaving his mouth at the
white hot pleasure.

“So pretty for me,” Minseok said in a low tone, “So perfect.”

“Minseok,” Chanyeol wanted to sob, “Fuck, please-fuck me.”

It didn’t take long for Minseok to withdraw his fingers, what Chanyeol
was not expecting was to be pulled down onto Minseok’s lap – the
other stroked him slowly as he sat down in Minseok’s lap, the stretch
causing him to bury his head in the crook of Minseok’s neck. When
Chanyeol’s ass met Minseok’s thighs, it took him more than a few
moments to adjust.

His hands gripped Minseok’s shirt, thighs trembling and Minseok

soothed him, pressed kisses along his mouth and to his ear, whispering
a quiet ‘you’re doing so well, baby boy’ that made Chanyeol whine
into the elder’s neck.
Minseok’s hands were running across his thighs, up his stomach and
down his back in soft motions as he waited. Chanyeol was breathing
hard, mustering the strength in his thighs to start moving. Minseok
caught his lips, kissing him slow and gentle as his hands continued to
knead Chanyeol’s thighs and ass.

With the support of Minseok, Chanyeol began to rock himself on the

other’s lap. The pleasure was almost instant and his thighs continued to
tremble, less so with the support of Minseok’s hands on his ass. It took
a few moments for him to find a comfortable rhythm, lifting himself
up and dropping back down until Minseok’s cock filled him up again.
Moaning almost repetitively, he moved his hands to the sofa behind
Minseok’s head and picked up his rhythm – Minseok thrusted up to
meet him and Chanyeol couldn’t help the yell that left his mouth
alongside his please because Minseok felt so fucking good.

Minseok was nipping along Chanyeol’s neck, his teeth leaving marks
as he fucked up into Chanyeol. Chanyeol pushed back just as hard,
meeting Minseok’s thrusts and drawing a low groan from the other
man – the sound spurred Chanyeol on and he rocked harder against the
other, riding Minseok’s thighs and crying out every time Minseok
thrusted up at just the right time.

“Shit-fuck, ” Chanyeol let out, unable to catch the curses, “Minseok –

Mr Kim. Please-,”

His own dick was left neglected between them as Chanyeol bounced,
Minseok panting hard against his skin – when he reached to relieve
himself, Minseok caught his hand and pressed it back to his own
shoulder. Minseok was slowly picking up the pace, his hands gripping
Chanyeol’s hips so tight he was certain there’d be bruises. Chanyeol
was forced to hold on to the broad shoulders, his thighs burning as
Minseok fucked into him harder and Chanyeol attempted to rut down.

“No touching,” Minseok answered Chanyeol’s pleas, “Be good for me,
baby.”
“I-fuck,” Chanyeol groaned, his fingernails digging into Minseok’s
shoulders as he chased his release, “I don’t-I can’t. ”

“You can,” Minseok murmured, using his own strength to bounce

Chanyeol as Chanyeol’s strength began to waver, “You can, Princess.
For me.”

“Please, ” Chanyeol let out, sobbing into Minseok’s chest, “I don’t

think I-”

Minseok bit down onto Chanyeol’s clavicle hard and Chanyeol yelled
out, every movement Minseok made causing pleasure to shoot up his
spine as he found the perfect angle to rut into Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s
words became incomprehensible as he tightened his grip on Minseok’s
shoulders, his nails leaving track marks even through the shirt. The
sweat trickling down his back was nothing compared to the way
Minseok snapped his hips up and into Chanyeol – Minseok’s voice at
his ear, tone deep and demanding.

He could feel his lower stomach curling tight, a begging need for
release that had Chanyeol whining pathetically. He’d never felt so
good.

“Chanyeol,” Minseok’s voice was almost a growl, “Baby, you’re doing

so well, so good, ” He thrusted up harder, Chanyeol yelling his name
with the last of his energy, “You want to be a good boy? Come for
me.”

Chanyeol’s hips stuttered, the pleasure rolling over him in waves as he

came hard between them. He let out a hiccupped moan into Minseok’s
chest as Minseok’s thrusts grew more erratic with the pleasure of
Chanyeol’s ass tightening, hot, around him. He groaned Chanyeol’s
name, spilling into the younger with the last of his thrusts.

Collapsing forward, Chanyeol fell into Minseok with his strength

diminished – Minseok’s chest was rising and falling hard as he
breathed, but Chanyeol still curled against him when Minseok raised
his arms to wrap around Chanyeol. It should have been awkward,
given Chanyeol’s extra height – it wasn’t, it was comfortable, content
with post-orgasm bliss.

Chanyeol’s come was sticky where they pressed against each other, but
neither of them complained; Minseok dropped a kiss on Chanyeol’s
sweaty hairline, chuckling a little at Chanyeol’s little huff.

They remained stayed still for a few further moments, catching their
breath.

“That was nice,” Chanyeol’s voice sounded rough when he spoke.

Chanyeol felt the puff of Minseok’s laugh on his hair, “I agree. We

should clean up, though.”

Tightening his hold on the other, Chanyeol shook his head. He was too
tired to move, he was perfectly fine laying here and not cringing at the
empty feeling as Minseok removed himself. Everything felt better like
this.

“We shouldn’t clean up,” Chanyeol disagreed, tucking his head further
into Minseok’s chest.

“We’re cleaning up.”

Chanyeol tilted his head up to pout at Minseok, “I’m tired.”

When Minseok leaned down to kiss Chanyeol’s pouting lips, Chanyeol

knew he shouldn’t have felt that flutter in his chest, the light feeling in
his stomach – his heart rate shouldn’t have picked up at something the
other man considered a pleasure arrangement. That’s not how this
worked – not after a day, after one fuck.

“You did well,” Minseok kissed him again, kissed him until Chanyeol
was left breathless and blushing, “Let me take care of you.”

Chanyeol nodded.
If he’d known being taken care of translated to ‘pick Chanyeol up and
carry him to a bathroom bigger than his apartment’, he might have
rejected. He did reject, a few moments too late, by which time he was
already in the air and what the fuck.

“Baekhyun was right,” Chanyeol huffed as Minseok set him down in

the bathroom to run a bath.

“And what was he right about?” Minseok asked, pouring a lotion into
the way-too-large bathtub.

“You’re cute,” Chanyeol started.

“I’ll indulge you,” Minseok replied, amused, “Go on.”

“And ripped,” Chanyeol repeated Baekhyun’s words, “A ripped

bunny.”

“A ripped bunny,” Minseok repeated.

“I’m still high from the whole-” Chanyeol waved his hands between
them, “Orgasm experience. Can I request plausible deniability?”

“Under what pretence?” Minseok asked, indulging him once again in

amusement.

“So many.”

Minseok snorted, “So many.”

“Are you telling me ‘so many’ wouldn’t hold up in a court of law?”

Chanyeol asked, appreciating the view of Minseok’s back as he
disposed of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“Depends how good your lawyer is,” Minseok replied, smugly.

Chanyeol hummed, pretending to consider Minseok for a second, “So,

how good are you?”
“Judging from these,” Minseok pointed to the scratches on the back of
his shoulders in the mirror, “I’m guessing pretty good.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol replied, rather sheepishly, “I didn’t… well, I did

mean to, but at the time it felt like a good idea, but I just realised we
didn’t discuss that, I’m sorry I-”

“You’re cute,” Minseok said again.

“I’m not cute,” Chanyeol grumbled, looking down at the marks on his
thighs to avert his gaze.

The marks looked good there, small splotches of dark red and purple
painting the paler, softer skin between his thighs. He wouldn’t admit it
aloud, but he liked them – liked the small sting from the bite on his
clavicle Minseok left.

“So cute.”

“You were okay, I guess,” Chanyeol shot back in defence.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Shit.”

It turned out that ‘being taken care of’ was a literal meaning, for
Minseok cleaned Chanyeol in the bath whilst leaving light trails of
kisses everywhere his lips went. Chanyeol felt content in the heat of
the water, his back against Minseok’s chest and Minseok’s fingers
massaging shampoo through his hair. His thighs ached and he assumed
(correctly) that they would hurt even more the following day. He didn’t
mind much.

He kind of liked it.

He liked it a lot.

Chanyeol dozed off a few times in the bath, the heat and lack of energy
wrapping around him with Minseok’s arms. Minseok pulled him out of
the bath, handing him a towel and plopping a smaller one atop his head
as he fetched one for himself. There were a few moments wherein
Chanyeol debated whether the lull of silence was a good thing – it felt
good, natural and comfortable. Stress-free.

Begrudgingly, Baekhyun and Sehun had been right. Good sex, good
money.

Kim Minseok.

“Busy?” Minseok asked.

He glanced up to meet Minseok’s eyes in the mirror, smiling a little,

“Sleepy.”

He was lead into the bedroom by Minseok, who handed him a large t-
shirt and pulled on some comfortable clothes of his own, before
tugging Chanyeol beneath the heavy covers of the bed. Chanyeol
curled up around Minseok’s side, his hands tracing light patterns on
the muscle beneath as he allowed his own breathing to even out and
his mind to drift.
 Chapter 2

Chanyeol awoke to an empty bed, something expected considering the

man now paying his ass worked enough to afford a place like this

He hadn’t had a chance to take in much of the bedroom considering

the lights had been dimmed the night before, but even the sheets felt
like heaven against his skin – or rather, his thighs, as all Minseok had
given him to wear the night before was a large jumper. On the topic of
thighs; the moment Chanyeol had attempted to roll over on the bed, his
thighs feat lower region halted his movements when his muscles
tightened in protest.

A physical reminder of the previous night.

Chanyeol found himself almost smiling at the thought, pushing himself

up onto his elbows as he considered the best way to move in favour of
his aching muscles, choosing first to actually sit up. He’d done that.
Last night. Had sat in Minseok’s lap and begged and it had felt good,
he’d be willing to do it all over again just to hear the way Minseok
growled his name. His mind was still stuck in the slow process of both
recalling the events and waking up as he ran a hand through his hair –
he had no idea what time it was, nor where his clothes were. Was he
supposed to just leave?

His phone was found on the bedside cabinet alongside a note written in
fancy scrawl.

‘I sent your suit to be cleaned – you’re welcome to wear something of

mine and collect your clothes next time. I enjoyed last night.
-Mr. K’

Chanyeol glanced up from the note to Minseok’s wardrobe. Would

anything belonging to Minseok even fit him?
His phone vibrated in his hand, lighting up his screen with ‘10.24am’
and a text from Sehun.

[(tall) man child]

> someone didn’t come home last night. and it wasn’t baek, who did
come home,
> this isn’t even his home
> we need to change the locks
> who even gave him a key
> anyways hope ur not dead lol

Not bothering to indulge his best friend, Chanyeol yawned and clicked
the call button.

“Not dead,” Sehun greeted when he answered.

“Not dead,” Chanyeol clarified, stretching his legs out in front of him
with a groan, “Far from it.”

“I’m not gonna say I told you so,” Sehun said just as Baekhyun yelled
‘I told you so’ from somewhere in the background.

There was a pause, Baekhyun yelping, and then a thump. Chanyeol

waited.

“Wanna get lunch?” Sehun asked.

Chanyeol yawned again, “Uh-huh.”

“Wow, he fucked you that good?”

“Shut up,” He didn’t need a mirror to know his traitor face was
blushing.

“You’re paying.”

After the phone call, Chanyeol found the energy and curiosity to peek
through Minseok’s wardrobe. At first, everything looked and felt like
something pricier than Chanyeol wanted to consider borrowing and
washing on his own. The further he walked through the wardrobe, his
hand running along the clothes in consideration, the more relaxed the
attire appeared. He pulled out a turtleneck jumper – it was huge,
probably fitted to Minseok’s wild shoulders.

It smelled nice and the sleeves fell beyond his fingertips when he
pulled it on; he wasn’t complaining.

For trousers, he had to settle for a pair of ripped jeans that had been
rolled up at the bottom – when he rolled down the cuffs, he looked
reasonable suitable for social situations. Also, he was wearing
Minseok’s clothes, which was kind of… hot. Minseok’s broad
shoulders meant the sweater hung loosely on Chanyeol’s frame, the
hem reaching down to mid-thigh and as he pulled on the ripped jeans,
he could feel the aching pangs from his thighs and ass. It wasn’t a
pleasant feeling – but he didn’t consider it unpleasant.

He pocketed his phone (and Minseok’s note), making the bed before
he headed over to the elevator. His eyes still followed the stretch of
windows in awe, dropping down into the morning rush of the city
below in thought. There was something more to Minseok than being
just a lawyer. He knew Junmyeon lived well, his apartment was nice
and he spoiled Sehun just as much. But, Junmyeon didn’t live in a
central city penthouse apartment of a sky-rise building – like this.

Or perhaps Chanyeol was over-thinking this and Minseok was just a

good lawyer.

It wasn’t until he was in the taxi to meet his friends that he bothered to
check his account balance – and almost choked on his own lungs with
how quick he inhaled. The taxi driver shot him an eyebrow raise in the
rear-view mirror as Chanyeol continued to stare at the digits on his
phone screen, and yeah, Baekhyun had been right. He considered
himself lucky that his bank knew of his family name – if not, he was
almost certain he’d have been flagged for fraud or suspicious activity.

At least they could move apartments, now.

He opted to exit the taxi a block before the café he was meeting the
duo at for lunch – mainly because he was early, but also because he
wanted the time to breathe and walk. He’d enjoyed the night prior, had
enjoyed the way Minseok had made him feel. The money might have
also played a part in Chanyeol’s new found contentedness.

His mindfulness lasted for all of 30 seconds, in which time his eyes
landed on a magazine stand in the window of one of the smaller shops.
He paused mid-step, mouth falling open at the row of economic
magazines he was met with. Times Magazine’s Top 100.

‘Exclusive: Kim Xiumin – how branching into China gave way for the
country’s biggest and most successful law firm.’

Beneath the headline was Minseok – suit and hair fitting for a
reputable magazine, leaning against a wooden desk with the city’s
horizon coming through the window behind him. Chanyeol would
have recognised those eyes anywhere; the sharp corners, cat-like,
demandingly indecent. The hardened line of his shoulders remained as
confident as Chanyeol remembered and the waist-coat hugged him in
ways Chanyeol had to stop himself from thinking about.

He was going to fucking kill Sehun.

And yeah, maybe he was slightly agitated over the fact that he’d just
had to buy a fucking economy magazine.

When he finally reached the café, his mood had shifted from shock to
a simmering anger. He bit his tongue as he reached their usual table,
silently placing the magazine down in its centre and taking a seat.
Sehun let out a monotone ‘ah’ and Baekhyun found it within himself
to look mildly sheepish.

“I just fucked one of the richest bachelors in the fucking country,”

Chanyeol paused, eyes flickering from Baekhyun back to Sehun, “And
you didn’t think I needed to know?”
“I mean,” Sehun cleared his throat, turning the magazine upside down
to make himself feel better, “We didn’t lie.”

“Not only that,” Chanyeol continued, glaring at Sehun over the table,
“But he’s the fucking ‘Xi’ in the ‘Chen-Xi’ branch. The firm that is the
number one competitor against my fucking parents’ firm. What the
fuck, Sehun?”

“Look on the bright side,” Baekhyun started, receiving glares from

both Sehun and Chanyeol, “What better way to say ‘fuck you’-,”

“I’m fucked,” Chanyeol interrupted him in disbelief, “If they find out-
if he finds out – what the fuck am I supposed to say? Oops? I’m still
not seeing why your little-,”

“Fuck you. I’m not little, just because you’re weirdly tall-,”

“-didn’t see this as something I should’ve known? I haven’t seen my

parents in years and now I’m being paid to fuck the leading partner of
their enemy-,”

“Oh my god. Both of you, shut up,” Sehun cut in, throwing menus at
the both of them and scowling, “Baekhyun, you’re kinda small, don’t
pretend you don’t like it – Chanyeol, did you just use the word
‘enemy’?

The two fell silent, scowling down at the café menus like they weren’t
going to order the same thing they always ordered. Chanyeol had
every right to feel pissed off, he needed to think about this – think
about the fact he really did just sleep with Kim Xiumin. Was Minseok
even aware of who Chanyeol was? He doubted it, Chanyeol had
always avoided public affiliation with his parents and he didn’t doubt
they hid the fact that their son was a gay college drop-out living on
free-lance money earned from music.

“Does he know?” Chanyeol asked, only after they’d given their orders.
“Probably not,” Sehun replied, looking mildly apologetic, “We
should’ve told you, but…”

“You would’ve backed out,” Baekhyun said, bluntly, “And you

wouldn’t have that pretty mark to show for it.”

Chanyeol pulled the collar of the sweatshirt up, looking out of the
window to avoid their eyes, “I hate you both.”

“You enjoyed it though, right?” Smirked Sehun, toying with his

napkin, “And you’re gonna go see him again, even after finding out.
So what’s your problem?”

“Looks like he’s already got you in his clothes, anyway,” Baekhyun
grinned in his attempt to lighten the mood, “How was it? Was it
good?”

“We cuddled and watched Disney movies all night,” Chanyeol

deadpanned, nodding a thanks to the waitress for his hot chocolate.

Baekhyun hummed, leaning forward to lick the cream from his latte, “I
can’t remember the last time I had to borrow clothes.”

“Yesterday,” Sehun answered, “You borrowed mine.”

“Don’t be pissy, just ‘cause half your wardrobe is at Junmyeon’s.”

It wasn’t often they got to see Sehun blush, but this was one of those
moments. Chanyeol made a mental note to dig deeper into the
aforementioned situation with one Kim Junmyeon and sugar baby Oh
Sehun, on the topic of thoughts and feelings.

Sehun started to rip the napkin into smaller pieces as he replied,

“We’re not talking about that.”

And just like that, they were back to casual topics and semi-offensive
remarks. Chanyeol couldn’t keep his eyes from falling back onto the
magazine, deciding to give in and just Google ‘Xiumin’ like he hadn’t
heard the name cursed around the corridors of his parents’ law firm a
thousand times. He remembered the cute paralegal who he’d helped
file the top shelf documents with one night explain – nobody simply
entered a court room with Kim Xiumin without an entire notebook of
prior research in tow. Chanyeol couldn’t say he’d ever slept with
someone who had a Wikipedia page, before – he couldn’t say he’d
ever slept with someone whose name was followed by the suggestion
‘net worth’.

The penthouse made sense, now – but Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel
a little… inadequate. In a larger picture, he really was nothing more
than a private business associate. He knew that. He did

This was bigger than just playing sugar baby to a wealthy lawyer. Kim
Minseok was not anonymous to the world – his real name might be,
perhaps, and his private life; but everything else was open to public
inspection. Chanyeol low-key wished he hadn’t found out; it would’ve
made the complications of their set up far easier to deal with.

He had to talk to Minseok, at least – make sure the older man was
aware of who Chanyeol was. Eventually.

The next time he heard from Minseok was the Friday night. He was
laid down, his long legs across Baekhyun’s stomach (on Sehun’s bed)
and playing random demos for Baekhyun to listen to and critique.
Baekhyun had always had a good ear for Chanyeol’s music and his
participations in musical theatre at the place Chanyeol worked had
strengthened his voice into something Chanyeol enjoyed listening to.

What caught him off guard was the fact that Minseok called him –
they’d only ever spoken through text before; so when Chanyeol’s
phone had started to ring, he picked it up without checking the caller
ID in presumption it was Sehun.

It wasn’t Sehun.
“Dude, pick up food ‘cause Baek’s here and he’s destroyed our fucking
cupboards. And none of that weird fructose shit – that gross-ass
diabetes-inducing bull is not real food.”

“Oh, is that so?”

And Chanyeol fell sideways from the bed, hitting the ground with a
‘hmph’ and sitting up straight to clear his throat, “Oh. Minseok. Hi? I
thought you were Sehun.”

“I’m aware – although I wasn’t aware you had such a foul mouth. I’d
rather enjoy taking my time to do something about that.”

Chanyeol’s mouth dropped open into an ‘O’ and he glanced up at

Baekhyun, the blush already starting to paint his cheeks red, “I really
should’ve checked the caller ID. It won’t happen again.”

Baekhyun snorted.

“I’m assuming you’re not busy,” Minseok continued, the question

implied.

“I’m not busy,” He looked up, flashing a grin at Baekhyun’s offended

face, “I’m not busy at all.”

“I’m glad. Be ready in 10 minutes.”

“Are you gonna tell him?” Baekhyun asked after he’d hung up.

“If he asks,” Chanyeol replied, “Which he won’t, so, no.”

“It’s probably for the best. I mean, you can’t exactly say ‘what’s up,
Mr Kim, I’m Chanyeol of Park International, you know, that one firm
you probably want to watch crash and burn-,”

Baekhyun stopped talking when he had to dodge his own laptop being
thrown at him.
The next 10 minutes included Chanyeol rushing around the apartment,
pulling on more suitable clothes and checking his appearance in every
shiny surface he passed – he was lucky he’d decided to shower that
morning. It wasn’t until he was pulling on his shoes that he realised he
was wearing Minseok’s jeans; at least if he wore them back to
Minseok’s, he could swap them for his own clothes. He switched his
shirt for the turtleneck he’d borrowed from Minseok and threw on his
jacket, dashing out the door when his phone flashed to alert him that
the lawyer was outside.

He took the steps two at a time to the lobby, simultaneously trying to

appear socially acceptable and not trip over his own feet.

Sliding into the familiar black car, he could feel his cheeks were red
from the running and the cold outside. He wasn’t panting hard. Ish.

“Are you in a rush?” Minseok asked, a quirk to his eyebrow that

almost made Chanyeol melt into the leather seat.

“I didn’t want to-,” Pant, “Keep you waiting.”

“You’re worth the wait, Chanyeol.”

At least his reddened cheeks from exertion would hide any blush he
had.

Minseok’s driver didn’t need to be told to start driving away as

Chanyeol deflated into the seat. The lawyer was still in his work suit,
different from the fancier suit he’d first seen him wear. He couldn’t
complain, he was half certain Minseok would look more than good
enough regardless of attire.

The hum of the engine filled the space between them as Minseok’s
hand found its way to Chanyeol’s thigh, his fingers playing with the
frayed edges of the rips in the jeans (that belonged to Minseok).
Chanyeol tried not to think about it, much.
“Nice clothes,” Minseok commented, slipping his warm fingers
beneath the rips.

It required a certain amount of effort to supress his shudder, “Thanks

for letting me borrow them.”

The lawyer hummed, fingers tracing Chanyeol’s skin lightly, “You

look good in my clothes.”

The journey to Minseok’s apartment was quiet after that, Chanyeol not
feeling the urge to fill the silence with idle small talk like the first time
they’d met. He felt more comfortable like this, the car keeping him
warm and Minseok’s fingers tracing along the bare sections of his
thighs. He took more time to appreciate Minseok in this light, his
stature pristine, his skin smooth and his eyes sharp. Chanyeol liked the
possessive hand on his thigh, already familiar with the motion
although Minseok’s eyes were focused elsewhere outside the window.

Part of Chanyeol wanted to ask about Minseok’s week – ask if he’d

had any interesting cases at work, if there were people who had irked
him; but he didn’t want to seem too invested, too personal. Their set-
up wasn’t personal, it was business… Chanyeol left at the end with a
nice sum and Minseok did as he pleased. Chanyeol wasn’t sure why
the thought felt so unsettled within him.

By the time they reached Minseok’s apartment, the sky was fully dark
again.

Chanyeol’s initial intention had been to wander into the living area the
way he’d done a few days prior – but the moment they were over the
threshold to the apartment, Chanyeol’s wrist was in Minseok’s grip and
he was being pushed against the wall. Minseok’s hand in his hair
brought their lips together roughly, the grip not relenting as Minseok’s
teeth on his bottom lip pulled a gasp from Chanyeol. When Minseok
pushed his tongue into Chanyeol’s mouth without hesitance, Chanyeol
found himself forced to grip Minseok’s hips tight to keep his head
from swimming.
The kiss wasn’t rushed, more so rough, the air forced from Chanyeol’s
lungs faster than he anticipated. When he pulled away to breathe,
Minseok slid his thigh between Chanyeol’s legs, forcing them open
and pulling a stutter from Chanyeol’s breathing – and Chanyeol wasn’t
even sure he was aware what was happening, but he was happy to
comply. Minseok’s mouth followed the line of Chanyeol’s jaw to his
ear, lowering to his neck as he sucked marks into the area above the
neck of the sweater. Chanyeol threw his head back, offering more of
his neck as he all but grinded back against Minseok’s thigh.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Minseok said lowly, pushing his thigh
into Chanyeol’s hardening cock, “All week.”

“It’s been three day-ah!” Chanyeol was interrupted by Minseok’s teeth

biting down, the older man smirking in victory.

“Bedroom.”

Except Minseok’s lips were on his again and Chanyeol couldn’t see
where he was going, his feet merely following the path the other man
was pushing him in. When Minseok pulled away to lift his own
sweater over Chanyeol’s head, he almost groaned at the dishevelled
look on the other man – his lips were red and swollen, his clothing
amess and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than see the man wrecked.

He was pushed back onto the bed, Minseok straddling his hips and
biting Chanyeol’s bottom lip – and when Chanyeol lifted his hands to
touch Minseok, Minseok pressed both of his wrists to the bed above
his head without speaking. The harsher nip of teeth was Chanyeol’s
only warning. The hands were removed from his wrists as Minseok
began to kiss the toned surface of Chanyeol’s stomach, but Chanyeol
was aware he wasn’t allowed to move his hands.

When Minseok’s tongue lapped at his nipple, Chanyeol had to grip the
sheets tight in order to go against what every cell in his body was
screaming at him to do and touch the man on top of him. He all but
whined, high and quiet and hoping Minseok hadn’t heard – but he
could feel the man smirking against his skin, his saliva leaving
Chanyeol’s nipple cold when he moved to lick a stripe up Chanyeol’s
stomach. Minseok only seemed more satisfied when he shifted his hips
against Chanyeol’s bulge, feeling the younger man’s muscles tense
beneath his tongue.

Minseok continued his ministrations until he reached the waist of

Chanyeol’s jeans. He sat up to remove his own dress shirt, allowing it
to slide to the floor from his position on Chanyeol’s hips – and
Chanyeol whined again, wanting nothing more than to run his hands
up the smaller man’s toned front.

“Please,” Chanyeol started, looking up at the other, “Can I touch you?”

“Not yet,” Minseok replied, climbing from Chanyeol’s hips to stand,

“You can remove those pants, though.”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate in lifting his hips to slide his own pants off,
watching as Minseok took lube and something else from the bedside
table. That something else being a plug. A butt plug. Chanyeol felt
more blood rush to his dick.

“Remember when I’d asked if you’d fingered yourself before and you
said yes?” Minseok asked and Chanyeol nodded, “Show me.”

Minseok squirted the lube onto Chanyeol’s fingers before sitting to the
side in wait – Chanyeol could feel his ears burning, part in humiliation
and partly at his willingness to do this. He reached down, breath
hitching as he worked his first finger into himself. Minseok’s hand on
his chin turned his head to meet Minseok’s eyes as he did so, and he
couldn’t help the moan that left his lips at the way Minseok looked
down at him. Want, Chanyeol presumed, and something more intense.

One of Minseok’s hands was on his stomach, tracing lightly down his
sternum and towards his aching cock. He inched lower but never
touched, teasing across the soft skin of his hips and back towards
Chanyeol’s nipples. At his third finger, the angle was awkward and
Minseok leaned down to kiss him through it as he worked his fingers
in and out of himself, hips rocking back down onto his fingers.
Minseok lubed up his own fingers slowly, visibly running his eyes
from Chanyeol’s own to where he was fingering himself. The action
was small and yet Chanyeol still shuddered, a gasp leaving his mouth
when Minseok replaced Chanyeol’s fingers with his own. He hooked
his fingers upwards once, looking for the place that would make
Chanyeol jolt in pleasure – and then smirking when the younger man
did just that.

“Show me how you touch yourself, Princess. I want to know what you
look like when I’m not here.”

Chanyeol had no quarrels about that, slowly stroking himself as

Minseok hummed in appreciation. He stroked his cock slowly, the
muscles in his abdomen tense in his effort to keep his hips still and not
fuck up into his fist. It was almost embarrassing, how quick he
managed to bring himself to the edge – Minseok noticed, too, the
smirk stretching on his lips when he slipped his fingers from
Chanyeol. He wasn’t left with the feeling of emptiness for long when
he felt Minseok push the plug into him, his mouth falling open in a
silent gasp as Minseok pushed it deeper.

“Think you can keep it in there for me, Princess?” Minseok asked,
pushing himself up from the bed.

Chanyeol took a deep breath, shifting to adjust the plug into a more
secure-feeling position, “I-I’ll try.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Minseok’s voice was low, even as he

slipped out of his own pants.

He swallowed, meeting Minseok’s stare, “Yes, Mr Kim.”

“Good boy. I’d very much appreciate it if you brought your pretty little
mouth over here.”

Chanyeol was quick to comply, biting his lip hard when his
movements pushed the plug deeper. He lowered himself to his knees in
front of Minseok, looking up at the older man through his eyelashes in
silent question – no words were needed as Minseok’s fingers threaded
through Chanyeol’s hair, pulling him forward.

He opened his mouth loosely, allowing Minseok to take control of his

movement. Minseok slid his cock into Chanyeol’s mouth – he was
already hard, which meant he’d gotten hard watching Chanyeol touch
himself. The thought made him shudder, the vibrations of his moan
making Minseok grip his hair harder. The other man’s hips were
moving more than his head and so all he could do was remain still as
Minseok slowly fucked his mouth, hips moving in a growing rhythm.

“Does it feel good, Princess? To have your mouth used like this?”
Minseok tugged him forward particularly hard and Chanyeol almost
gagged, tears pricking his eyes, “I’m going to get a little rough, pinch
my arm if you want me to stop, okay?”

He waited for Chanyeol’s nod before snapping his hips forward at a

quicker rate, Chanyeol’s lips being forced to stretch further around
Minseok’s length. He gagged again, this time his hands raising to
clutch Minseok’s hips as the older man fucked deeper into his mouth.
He hadn’t asked to touch Minseok but he had no other way to ground
himself, his nails digging into the flesh on Minseok’s hips as the tears
continued to gather in his eyes.

As Minseok picked up pace, the movement of his body moved the plug
in his ass and he groaned, high and whiney, as he clenched around the
toy – which only heightened the pleasure shooting up his spine. He
could feel his cock, hard and needy against his stomach as Minseok
fucked his mouth, hard, until the tears started to fall down his cheeks.
The very thought that Minseok had reduced him to this, a whiney mess
so pliant beneath the smaller man, was almost enough to push him
over the edge.

“You look so good, Kitten, you’re such a good boy for me,” Minseok
said as he slowed down into longer, deeper thrusts, “On your knees for
me with such a pretty mouth. All for me, hm? Mine.”
And Chanyeol shouldn’t have, not at words like that, but oh boy did he
keen. If there was no cock in his mouth, he would’ve begged.

When Minseok pulled away from his mouth, he almost whined at the
loss of contact, except the lawyer was pulling him up with a hand in
his hair to clash their lips together. Chanyeol almost came at the
thought of how he must taste, Minseok’s pre-come lining his mouth –
it was only a brief kiss, before Minseok was pushing him down onto
the bed. His hand lowered between them in search of the end of the
plug in Chanyeol’s ass.

Chanyeol winced as it slid from him, the empty feeling growing as he

clenched around nothing – Minseok wasn’t in a mood to wait tonight,
it seemed, and Chanyeol almost cried in relief. Within moments,
Minseok had lubed himself up and was pushing into Chanyeol, lifting
Chanyeol’s thighs to wrap around his waist. Minseok’s lack of patience
was permanent, for the older man didn’t offer much time before he
snapped his hips into Chanyeol, the grotesque sound of skin on skin
filling the room above Chanyeol’s cry of pleasure.

His head felt elsewhere, every movement of Minseok’s filling him

with a contented pleasure. It wasn’t long before he felt himself ready
to climax, his thighs clenching harder around Minseok’s waist as he
chased his own release.

“Minseok, I’m gonna-I need to-,”

“No,” Minseok replied, his own moans growing harder to hide, “Not
until I say.”

“Please,” Any other day, Chanyeol would burn with embarrassment at

the way his voice broke in desperation, “Mr Kim, please.”

At that, Minseok leaned down to press bruising kisses against

Chanyeol’s shoulders as Chanyeol raked his nails down Minseok’s
back in an attempt to halt his own release.

Minseok growled.
Chanyeol almost screamed in an attempt to hold himself together, his
legs wrapping tighter around Minseok as the other man found his
prostate. Minseok’s name was leaving Chanyeol’s lips in a mantra of
pleas and sobs and when Minseok pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s
ear, his voice deep and rugged as he growled a ‘come for me, Park
Chanyeol’, Chanyeol did scream as his vision danced and his hips
stuttered. He clenched tight around Minseok as he shot spurts of white
between them, his noises fuelling the force at which Minseok fucked
into him.

Chanyeol whimpered at the over-sensitivity, letting out another cry

when Minseok thrust into him one last time and tensed, spilling into
Chanyeol with a low groan of his own.

He collapsed onto the bed next to Chanyeol, his chest rising and falling
rapidly as their pants remained the only noise in the bedroom.

Chanyeol doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does he remember

Minseok cleaning him up and wrapping him up under the covers. He
was only aware of the warm, content feeling, akin to what he imagined
it would feel like if his mind was wrapped in cotton wool, as his mind
slipped into slumber.

It was the type of nap where he was certain he dreamed, but could not
remember anything beyond brief pictures and flickers of emotion. The
slumber was brief, for he soon awoke to an empty bed, his eyes
blinking up through the dim lights to the ceiling above. He allowed
himself to lay there for a few moments more, his mind attempting to
pull together sense and register the ache at the base of his spine.
Moving took him longer than he appreciated and he already regretted
leaving the warmth of the covers – though he did pull on Minseok’s
jumper and his own underwear they’d discarded earlier.

The digital clock on the dressing table flashed midnight – huh, he

couldn’t have slept for more than two hours.

His feet appreciated the soft carpet as he padded from the bedroom, his
eyes puffy from the short lived sleep but sweeping around the
apartment for Minseok all the same. He could look at the skyline view
a hundred times and never bore of it, Chanyeol thought, never bore of
the feeling of detachment from the world and it’s strings far below –
how the moon felt closer and the stars no longer a cold light out of
reach. As much as he hated to admit it, he reckoned he could write
music well here, sprawled out on Minseok’s sofa with his guitar and
laptop. Dangerously domestic.

His eyes finally spotted an ajar door, soft light spilling onto the carpet
beneath. He lightly creeped over, not wanting to disturb anything
Minseok may have been doing but curious all the same – what he
found was Minseok, hair pinned back from his face and round glasses
perched on his nose, his shoulders sagged from where his tired eyes
scanned over lines of text on a spread of documents in front of him.

Something in Chanyeol’s chest seemed to give way, a small rush of

lightness as he watched the other man work. He found himself
wandering back to the kitchen, boiling a kettle and searching for the
biggest mug in Minseok’s cupboards. He wasn’t sure if Minseok even
liked tea – or how he would like his tea if he even liked tea. He used
his own experiences; enough sugar to overcome the bitterness from the
herbs in the tea and enough milk to eradicate that gross feeling no-milk
tea left in the mouth.

Chanyeol felt a little uncertain when he knocked on the door to

Minseok’s study, the sleeves of Minseok’s jumper keeping his hands
from being burned through the ceramic of the mug. He almost
retreated entirely when Minseok’s eyes snapped up, his eyebrow
raising at the image of Chanyeol stood there in his jumper armed with
a mug of tea.

And when Minseok smiled, small but genuine, Chanyeol really had to
fight the feeling of something else from blossoming within his chest.

“Is that for me?” The lawyer’s voice was deep, rough with how tired
he must’ve felt.
Chanyeol nodded, trying his hardest not to blush, “I thought you-well,
you looked stressed? And I thought maybe… Some tea would help – it
used to help me, but – you might not even like it, but I mean-uh,
maybe I should’ve asked? I’m sorry?”

And when Minseok laughed, the sound distracting the butterflies in his
stomach, he really fucking wished he knew how to control the dumb
emotion part of his brain.

“Come here.”

He walked forward and into the study space, holding the tea out in
front of him as though it were some form of defence – a useless
defence at that, because Minseok lifted his hands and removed the tea
from Chanyeol’s hands, setting it aside. Minseok tapped the desk space
in front of him, motioning for Chanyeol to sit and Chanyeol silently
cursed himself for not putting on his jeans, feeling a little naked in just
the jumper and underwear.

Minseok’s head came up to his chest from his position in the chair and
the older man opted to place his hands on Chanyeol’s knees, tracing
gentle patterns up to Chanyeol’s thighs.

“Thank you for the tea, Chanyeol, but you didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Chanyeol protested, a little defensive.

The other man began to gently massage the muscles on Chanyeol’s

thighs, easing the aches he’d forgotten about. Minseok had nice hands,
his fingers were long and his palms were soft – or rather, Chanyeol
chose to focus on Minseok’s hands and not his eyes, because his eyes
were another world and dangerously close to Minseok’s lips and
Chanyeol really couldn’t justify wanting to kiss the other man until his
own breath ran low.

“You look tired,” Is what Chanyeol decided to say, his eyes still
focussed on Minseok’s hands.
Minseok shrugged, “It was a busy week.”

“Earlier, when we-,” He did not blush on the topic of sex, he was an
adult, “You really needed that, huh?”

“I did,” He answered, “You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Minseok continued, thumbs brushing over the

marks he’d left on Chanyeol’s thighs a few days prior, “You seem
content with moving forward, as am I – but I’m only willing to do so if
you have a safe word.”

A safe word? That meant things were going to get a little more… into
areas where Chanyeol was inexperienced, to say the least. He wouldn’t
deny the spark of anticipation the thought brought. He already had a
safe word at the ready – you know, for spontaneous moments where he
might just happen to need one.

Chanyeol bit his bottom lip lightly, opting for confidence,

“Mushroom.”

Minseok didn’t even try to hide his laugh, “Not to question you, but –
why?”

“It’s enough to turn any man off,” Chanyeol replied, his voice
dropping to a mutter as he continued, “They’re so fucking gross.”

At that, Minseok really did laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I didn’t make you tea for it just to be neglected,” Chanyeol

complained, picking up the tea and pushing it into Minseok’s hands,
“My blood and sweat went into this.”

The lawyer turned up his nose at the thought, but pulled the mug to his
lips regardless. He took a sip, deeming it drinkable as his other hand
remained on Chanyeol’s leg. There was a lull in the conversation in
which Minseok drank the tea, his eyes falling shut as he breathed.
Chanyeol took the hair pin from Minseok’s hair, watching the locks
fall forward onto Minseok’s face before he ran his own fingers through
it. Minseok hummed in appreciation as Chanyeol ran the tips of his
fingers across his scalp, almost laughing at the way Minseok
practically purred like a cat when Chanyeol stroked behind his ears.

“Do you have much work left?” Chanyeol asked as Minseok finished
the tea.

Minseok just groaned, which Chanyeol took as a yes. He removed the

mug from Minseok’s hands and set it on the desk next to him, his
fingers still threading through the dark browns of the older man’s hair.
Minseok decided to just rest his head on Chanyeol’s thighs, allowing
Chanyeol to continue playing with his hair as he placed gentle kisses
on Chanyeol’s skin.

Chanyeol laughed a little, sliding the glasses from Minseok’s head so

they wouldn’t break, “Maybe you should just go to bed.”

“We,” Minseok corrected, but the reply was muffled against

Chanyeol’s leg, “We should go to bed.”

He straightened himself on the chair, peering up at Chanyeol with

thought in his eyes. Chanyeol stared back, swallowing around the
thought of ’this is a mutually-beneficial business arrangement’.

“We should just go to bed, then,” Chanyeol said, his voice quieter than
he’d intended.

“Kiss me,” Minseok said in reply.

Chanyeol swallowed, moving to get up from the desk, “You’re sleepy.”

Minseok’s hand on his thigh kept him in place on the desk, “I said, kiss
me.”

“I know what you said,” Chanyeol muttered, looking beyond Minseok

instead of at Minseok, “I just think you’re tired and-,”
“Park Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol leaned down, his fingers finding themselves back in the
older man’s hair as he pressed his lips against Minseok’s. He’d wanted
to do this the moment he’d entered the study, had wanted to savour the
way in which his mouth fit so well against Minseok’s, to remember the
way Minseok licked into his mouth and how it made his veins burn in
want.

The kiss wasn’t rough, like earlier, it was slow and careful – like they
both wanted to remember each movement, and fuck if Chanyeol ever
wanted to forget the way Minseok kissed him like he was the only
person he ever wanted to kiss again. And sure, Chanyeol was going to
regret allowing his mind to be dragged into this, he was going to regret
running his hand up Minseok’s back like Minseok was his to savour –
but that was something for tomorrow.

As much as he wanted it to be forever, he supposed tonight would be

enough.

And even though he enjoyed it when Minseok reduced him to nothing

more than a mess, moulded perfectly beneath his hands, Chanyeol also
enjoyed this – it was rather vanilla, the way Minseok took him when
they finally made it to the bed, slotted between Chanyeol’s open thighs
as he thrust his hips into Chanyeol slowly. But neither of them minded,
and when Chanyeol came between them with a choked gasp, Minseok
kissed him again and again as his own hips faltered and he slowly rode
out his own orgasm.

Chanyeol fell asleep with his head tucked under Minseok’s neck – fell
asleep in Minseok’s arms with a content feeling in his chest but a taste
of regret on his tongue.

Step One in a Sugar Baby’s Guide to Success: Do Not Fall for Your
Sugar Daddy.

He was so fucked.
 Chapter 3

Before Chanyeol was even entirely awake, he had a list of things to do

scrawled messily across the back of his mind. The first thing on said
list was more metaphorical than physically doable – number one,
forget the tired slash emotional slip into his feelings from the night
prior. He had known what signing his name to this arrangement
included before they’d even started; he’d seen the ups and downs that
his best friend had gone through. He was a paid stress reliever, and he
knew it; he knew Minseok knew it. He was thankful for their setup, he
enjoyed what they did and he enjoyed getting paid.

So, why did he feel like he was losing? Perhaps it was just him being
himself and finding easy attachment to things. Or people.

He couldn’t help but ponder how different things could have been if
he’d gone the route his parents had intended for him – he could have
met Minseok under different circumstances with enough relevance to
mean something more than… this. Whatever this was. That didn’t
mean he didn’t enjoy this.

Number two – Kim Xiumin. Chen-Xi. Park International. Chanyeol

knew who he was – yet Minseok had no idea who Chanyeol was. Son
and self-abandoned heir to an executive seat in his parents’ firm. It was
no hidden secret that Chen-Xi and Park International went head to
head on multiple cases, often their goals less about clientele
appeasement and more about kicking the other firm to the dirt. Except
Xiumin was different.

Kim Xiumin rarely lost a case against P.I. He’d lost cases, sure, rare
and few between – but where Park International was ever involved and
Chen-Xi sent in Xiumin, it was a fair guess to say his parents’ firm
was fucked. There was bad blood between the two and Chanyeol
vividly remembered his father, enraged, cursing Xiumin from beneath
his pile of subpoenas. So, yeah, Minseok was a good lawyer; his aura
of indifference and degree of apathy was spoken of.

He had no contact with his parents – so why did the ordeal make him
so uneasy?

When Chanyeol slid into the seat across from the lawyer, who’d made
them both breakfast and stolen all of Chanyeol’s mushrooms before
the abominations reached his plate, he readied himself with a long
breath. Except, Chanyeol found it rather difficult to lift his eyes from
the food in front of him, his chopsticks pushing around whatever
classy breakfast Minseok had somehow managed to perfect.

And Minseok waited, chewing silently, a soft expression on his face

that told Chanyeol the other was willing to listen.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” Chanyeol started, risking a

glance upwards.

“Finally,” Minseok replied, taking a sip of the tea Chanyeol had made
(again).

Chanyeol bit the inside of his cheek, before he swallowed, re-thought

his words and finally said, “It really is disgusting that you like
mushrooms.”

“Chanyeol.”

“I found out something interesting,” Chanyeol hesitated, wishing he’d

thought this through, “A few days ago. So, I was just – you know,
doing some regular shopping, like all normal people do, when
something catches my eye. It’s some magazines, and not those kinda
magazines-,”

“Mhm, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol answered, setting his chopsticks down, “You’re

Xiumin.”
Minseok cocked an eyebrow at him, his tone deadpan, “And, you’re
Chanyeol.”

“Park Chanyeol,” He corrected, even though he knew that hardly

explained anything, “This is a dick move, but – promise me you won’t
get mad.”

“That is a dick move,” Minseok agreed, putting his own chopsticks

down as he sighed, “I promise I won’t get mad.”

“Believe me when I say I had no idea who you were,” Chanyeol

continued, “Before – I really didn’t know. I dropped out of college, I
don’t know anything.”

“I’m sure it isn’t as bad as you’re making it sound.”

Chanyeol rubbed a hand over his face, “My parents – they… Um.
They’re partners for this law firm, and… You’re the fucking Xi in
Chen-Xi and they’re the fucking Park in Park International.”

The elder placed his chopsticks down.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Sure, Chanyeol may have
been being dramatic, but the wonderfully controlled and blank
expression that Minseok was sporting across the table from him did
nothing to ease the tightness building in his chest. All he found was a
flash of something disappointed in Minseok’s eyes (and of course his
only tell-tale when hiding emotion is his fucking eyes) and Chanyeol
closed his mouth.

And Chanyeol watched the flashes of consideration like a movie in

Minseok’s eyes – the questions, possible answers… Distrust in
Chanyeol. Was this some malicious ploy set up by his parents? Or,
perhaps, some revenge ploy by Chanyeol in order to get back at them?

He held Minseok’s eyes for a moment before the stare grew

overbearing and Chanyeol glanced away – and Chanyeol knew, he
knew he should explain. Explain the situation properly, how estranged
from his parents he actually was – but would that even make a
difference? If Minseok lacked trust in his name for no reason other
than bad blood, would he feel the same for anyone involved in P.I?

All is well in law and war, his father use to say.

Regardless of whether or not Chanyeol should have explained,

Minseok didn’t allow him the time to do so.

“I have to go to work,” Minseok said, after the silence stretched into

discomfort.

“It’s… Minseok,” Chanyeol tried as Minseok moved to stand, “It’s

complicated – I didn’t know. I just…” I’m the son of the partners of a
firm that have tried again and again to destroy your entire occupation,
“It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” Minseok’s voice was cold and Chanyeol almost
winced, “So, what? Your parents cut you off? You needed money from
elsewhere?”

“That’s not fair,” Chanyeol replied, defensive, “You don’t know

anything about me.”

“You’re right,” Minseok agreed and Chanyeol really fucking wished

the other man was worse at keeping such a blank face, “I don’t know
anything about you.”

And Chanyeol nodded, because Minseok was so carefully controlled

and Chanyeol wasn’t sure he could sit and continue on a non-
embarrassing level. He couldn’t find the words, not with the way
Minseok gave him one last look of disappointment before slipping out
of sight to get ready. Chanyeol could feel the words of sense catch in
his throat, a small reluctance pulling them back down to his stomach –
it wasn’t like he’d done anything particularly wrong.

He knew he probably could have (see also: should have) offered more
information, though he couldn’t help but feel an increase in resentment
towards his parents. As much as he didn’t want to, he understood
Minseok’s view – his parents, their firm, hated Minseok’s firm on
terms that ran deeper than business.

“I assume you remember the way out,” Minseok announced when he

returned, his tone far too business-like as he fastened his cufflinks.

A mutually beneficial business arrangement, Chanyeol thought to

himself, rather bitterly.

Chanyeol nodded again. He just wanted to crawl home and climb

beneath his familiar bedsheets and pretend that the ordeal hadn’t
happened – that he was an adult who knew how to deal with adult
situations and not create bigger messes.

Laid beneath the protection of his covers the way he’d previously
promised himself, Chanyeol felt a little ridiculous. The situation was
ridiculous – it was hardly anything to grow pissy about, yet here they
were, being pissy. Chanyeol wasn’t throwing a self-pity party… This
was a thinking party. For one.

“Can I sleep in here?”

Chanyeol looked up from beneath his own cocoon of blankets, his eyes
widening when he registered the tear-stained Sehun standing in his
doorway. His best friend’s shoulders were sagging as though he’d lost
the will to stand straight and if his eyes were not deceiving him, Sehun
hiccupped in attempt to keep the tears from falling further. He could
count the times he’d ever seen Sehun like this on one hand – more
often than not, it was the other way around, Chanyeol the crying mess
and Sehun the sturdy chest to cry into when things fell into shit.

He sat up, a little uncertain on what he was supposed to say.

“Did something happen with Junmyeon?” His own problems were
forgotten when Sehun nodded.

Lifting up the blankets, he motioned for Sehun to join him in the

cocoon warmth.

The moment Sehun slid beneath his covers, Chanyeol wrapped his
own limbs around his best friend, playing the bigger spoon in their
cuddling session. Or crying session. Because Sehun started crying
again and Chanyeol cared less about his comfort sweater growing tear
stained than the fact Sehun was fucking crying and Sehun never cried
– and the last time he’d seen him cry involved a dog and a movie and
one emotional Sehun.

Chanyeol just pulled Sehun closer to his chest, unsure on what was
standard routine in comfort.

There was a certain degree of knowledge that Chanyeol already had in

terms of the Sehun-Junmyeon situation. Sehun had met Junmyeon over
three years ago, they’d fallen into the standard sugar daddy routine
quickly – until it became more than that, and Sehun stopped accepting
as much money from Junmyeon and instead spent days at Junmyeon’s
apartment, and Junmyeon brought Sehun food when he thought the
younger was stressing himself out too much with college.

As much as Sehun brushed it off, it was evident Sehun had quite

literally fallen for Junmyeon. And Junmyeon was a sweetheart, but he
was dumb – Chanyeol had stated this before, because Junmyeon
looked forward to seeing Sehun as much as Sehun looked forward to
seeing him. The issue? Neither of them took notice of the way one
would watch the other when they weren’t looking, or the fact they
were on each other’s mind more often than not.

So really, Chanyeol was growing closer to agreeing with Baekhyun

and tying them both together until they talked it the fuck out.

He didn’t say that to Sehun, obviously, because right now Sehun just
needed to… deal with whatever had happened.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Chanyeol whispered, because it was
routine and had been routine ever since they’d crammed themselves
into a single bed as kids.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Chanyeol snorted, thankful that Sehun had at least stopped sniffling,

“Did he do something?”

It was Sehun’s turn to snort, “No. But even if he did, what are you and
your gangly limbs gonna do?”

“Call Jongin, obviously.”

Sehun laughed and Chanyeol felt a little closer to success.

They spent an hour or two like this – and Chanyeol was unsure who
needs it more, him or Sehun. Chanyeol wasn’t unfamiliar with the
feeling of unease in his life, of uncertainty, it’d been this way after the
ordeal with his parents. He’d lacked direction in life, no stable income
and a family that hated him for something he couldn’t change.

As much as he disliked it, he preferred it this way. He preferred

making his own decisions and living his life the way he could – it was
better than waking up to do something he hated, to pretend to be
someone he wasn’t around rich people he really didn’t care for.

His phone started to vibrate beneath the pillow and Sehun groaned at
Baekhyun’s dumb ID image on Chanyeol’s screen as he fished it out.

“What?”

Chanyeol had to pull the phone away from his ear when Baekhyun
yelled his reply.
“ARE YOU WITH SEHUN? IS HE OKAY? DID HE CRY? IS HE
STILL CRYING? DOES HE NEED ME TO BRING HIM WATER SO
HE CAN CRY MORE-,”

Sehun groaned again, “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”

“HI SEHUN~.”

“I really think we should’ve just left him at the gas station that one
time,” Sehun said to Chanyeol, rubbing a hand across his face.

“We did leave him at the gas station. Twice. He keeps coming back.”

“I told you we should’ve just changed the locks.”

“Too late,” Baekhyun sang through the phone and Chanyeol was the
one to groan as he heard their apartment door being kicked shut.

Within moments, Baekhyun had launched himself onto the bed, laying
across both of them. His attention was on Sehun, who tried to bat away
Baekhyun’s hands as the annoyance pouted and tried to stroke his hair.

“As much as I would prefer to lay in bed with two hot dudes all day, I
have a better idea – Jongin invited us out and I think alcohol is a
perfect rebound.”

“You’re acting like I’m going through a breakup,” Sehun replied,

though he didn’t seem to have any opposition to going out.

“But you are,” Baekhyun corrected, “Did you or did you not break
things off with Junmyeon?”?

“You what?” Chanyeol asked, sitting up and Baekhyun to squawk as

he avoided falling to the floor.

“That’s different,” Sehun bit back, “We weren’t dating.”

“Alcohol sounds like a good idea,” Chanyeol decided, turning the

conversation away from a growing-irritated Sehun.
With Baekhyun lingering around, getting ready for a night out was far
more complicated than it should have been – worth it in the end,
usually, and Chanyeol wouldn’t disagree that he looked good. As did
Sehun. And Baekhyun. He wanted to question Sehun about
Baekhyun’s earlier statement, but he’d been reluctant to talk about it to
begin with – which meant Sehun would probably drink some and then
Chanyeol wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

If Chanyeol trusted anyone with bar recommendations, it was Kim

Jongin. Jongin had been a year below him when Chanyeol had still
attended college, he majored in dance and Chanyeol hadn’t the
slightest idea how they’d met. One day, his life was Jongin-free, the
next, he was drinking at good clubs with good music and his life was
not Jongin-free.

When he still attended law school and his life hadn’t had any
favourable direction, he rather enjoyed drinking past the recommended
limit and forgetting how he made it home. It hadn’t been healthy, but
neither had anything else at law school.

Sehun was quick to drink and follow Jongin away to dance – but
Baekhyun lingered, taking the seat next to Chanyeol. He never gave
Baekhyun enough credit for his observational skills, or his friend
skills, or his skills in being able to shit talk his way out of anything.
Baekhyun had somehow fallen into the weird trio that they were now,
and Chanyeol appreciated him.

“So,” Baekhyun started, swirling the pink pastel colours of whatever

cocktail he was drinking.

“I know you know,” Chanyeol answered, glancing down at the strange

colours of whatever the hell Baekhyun had ordered him.

“How do you know I know?” Baekhyun shot back, “And how do you
know I know what you think I know?”

“And here I thought headaches were supposed to come after drinking,

not before.”
“That’s offensive.”

“You’re not offended.”

“That’s true,” Baekhyun confirmed, turning to face Chanyeol on the

stool, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Mhm, is that why you’re moping?” His friend asked.

“I am not moping,” Chanyeol shot back, drinking far too much of his
cocktail in one gulp, “And why are we drinking... pastel cocktails?”

“They’re pretty and I wanted to take Insta pictures,” Baekhyun replied,

uncaring, “But really, I don’t think the issue is that bad.”

Chanyeol finished his drink.

“I just think you need to communicate like an adult,” Baekhyun

informed, looking down the drinks menu for something else weirdly
coloured, “Or maybe destroy your parents’ firm in a declaration of
love, I don’t know. Is he into that?”

“Thanks for the help,” Chanyeol replied, drily.

“But really, you’ll be thanking me after tonight,” Baekhyun started as

he ordered them something that tasted more alcohol than anything else,
“I called Junmyeon.”

“And?”

“Well, Sehun ‘fessed up, spilled his homo heart all over the place –
and then pussed out, retracting his statements and rushing from the
place like a poorly executed teen drama,” Baekhyun explained,
wincing as he took a sip of his drink and giving the entire thing to
Chanyeol, “And then he texts ‘Myeon, telling him explicitly to never
contact again before switching off his phone.”
“That’s…” Chanyeol trailed off, “Dramatic, but it’s Sehun. Did
Junmyeon…?”

“Junmyeon did nothing, I think he’s still awestruck. Which is why I

called him, telling him to pull his ass together and ‘fess back, because
Sehun is really talkative when he’s drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s, like, a friend betrayal.”

“Sehun will thank me tomorrow. Anyway, I dropped in a few words

about you, y’know, to prod and see if I could find out anything
interesting.”

“You mean look into my business,” Chanyeol corrected, “When you

could just ask.”

“’Nothing happened’,” Baekhyun poorly imitated Chanyeol’s words

from earlier, “Anyway, Junmyeon said he hadn’t been able to get any
words from Minseok all day, ‘cause he’s moping too-,”

“Minseok doesn’t mope,” He interrupted, “He’s like, unnaturally calm.

It’s scary. And kinda hot.”

“Noted,” Baekhyun returned, before making Chanyeol finish both his

own and Baekhyun’s drink so he could order the next round.

Chanyeol wasn’t going to last much longer if Baekhyun kept on him

like this.

“Don’t get mad at me,” Baekhyun started in a tone that meant he’d
done something, “But, Junmyeon knows you, right? Like, -ish? I asked
him to speak to Minseok.”

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol groaned, pushing away the empty glasses, “I

love you, but I’d really prefer to fix this myself.”

“You can still fix it yourself!” Baekhyun amended, handing him

something blue in a glass after taking a picture, “I just said you were
all sad n’ stuff, so you were going out with your good friend Baekhyun
to drown some sorrows.”

“I take back my earlier love statement.”

“Too late.”

Chanyeol was feeling the buzz of the alcohol too much to really care
about Baekhyun’s meddling and instead helped Baekhyun fulfil
whatever little experiment he was pulling with the weirdly flavoured
cocktails – and when Baekhyun started mixing the cocktails with
other, stronger additions of alcohol, Chanyeol knew he wasn’t waking
up tomorrow without regret.

He lost track of Sehun half an hour prior, but he’d been with Jongin so
Chanyeol wasn’t awfully concerned. Baekhyun’s cocktail alchemy had
started to slur Chanyeol’s words and he deemed it time to go outside
for a breather. Baekhyun shot him a mildly concerned look, but
Chanyeol brushed it off with a ruffle of the younger’s hair.

There was a group of people smoking to one side, but Chanyeol

avoided them in favour of actual fresh hair. He leaned back against the
wall, the cold seeping through his shirt and making him shiver – they
were probably getting a taxi later that night, so he wasn’t too
concerned about the cold. When his mind started to make more sense
and his words weren’t heavy on his tongue, Chanyeol pushed himself
up to head back inside.

Which is the exact time his phone decided to start blaring loudly in his
pocket.

It was Minseok, obviously.

Liquid courage? He hoped.

“Hello, you’ve reached Chanyeol,” Chanyeol answered, for no reason

at all.
“Are you at home?” Minseok asked, like their conversation earlier
hadn’t happened.

“Yes,” Chanyeol lied, wincing when the group to the right gave out a
round of cheers, “No.”

Minseok didn’t sound irritated, he sounded oddly neutral, “Where are

you?”

And it irked Chanyeol – he hadn’t done anything wrong, particularly,

to deserve the cold treatment.

“Out,” Chanyeol answered, the cold breeze making him want to retreat
inside.

The rowdy group to his right were growing in noise and Chanyeol
winced at the raise of voices, wanting to avoid getting in the way
friendly fist-brawls. He took a deep breath in, savouring the cool air in
his lungs as he listened to the silence on the other side of the line grow.
Good. Chanyeol was feeling bitter and he wanted Minseok to know.

“And where is ‘out’?” Minseok finally replied, “I’m coming to pick

you up.”

“Um,” Chanyeol said, bristling slightly, “Not that this isn’t weird,
which it is – should I expect some 50 Shades of Grey shit from you?”
There was an awkward pause, before Chanyeol continued, “Sorry, Mr
Kim, you don’t get to collect me tonight, I’m not yours to collect.”

Part of his brain was screaming what are you doing at him – because
of fucking course he wanted Minseok to come and pick him up, he was
cold and Baekhyun was going to either shove weirder tasting cocktails
into his system or try to break into Sehun’s mind, both of which
Chanyeol would rather avoid. Especially when someone from the
group to the right threw up.

Chanyeol grimaced and turned away, his grip tightening on his phone.
“Is that what you want?” Minseok asked, his tone carefully calm.
Again.

“Obviously not,” Chanyeol muttered, feeling a little dumb for his

outburst but continuing anyway, “You promised you wouldn’t get
mad.”

“I’m not mad, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol knew he wasn’t – he wished he’d made the other promise

not to get disappointed. He thought this probably felt worse.

“You’re disappointed.”

“I was,” Minseok replied, honestly, “I assumed the worst. Junmyeon-,”

“I don’t want to hear what Junmyeon said,” Chanyeol’s interruption

was quiet, “I want to explain it myself.”

“Okay.”

“I could have explained it better,” He confessed. The cold didn’t feel

as bad, anymore.

“Perhaps, but I’d rather not do this over the phone.”

Chanyeol let out an irritated sigh, the alcohol in his breath warming his
tongue, “We wouldn’t have to do this over the phone if you hadn’t
been such a hard-ass this morning.”

A particular hint that Park Chanyeol should stop drinking: the already-
thin brain to mouth filter was non-existent.

“Chanyeol-,”

“If you’re not about to apologise you can keep it,” He interrupted, and
maybe, maybe, part of him liked not biting his tongue in reply to
Minseok.
Minseok was silent for a moment and Chanyeol hung up.

When Chanyeol made his way back inside the bar, he found Baekhyun
forcing his weird cocktails onto familiar faces that Chanyeol couldn’t
match names to. Instead, Chanyeol opted to find Sehun – he figured
he’d had enough alcohol to forget the fact that he couldn’t dance as he
made his way over to Sehun.

Sehun grinned when he noticed Chanyeol, dragging him close and

trying to make Chanyeol move his hips in ways hips were not
supposed to move – Sehun was a good dancer, as was Jongin, why was
he on the dancefloor again?

“How are things with you, Chanyeolie?”

Chanyeol snorted at the name, well aware Sehun had the lowest
alcohol tolerance out of them.

“They’re good,” Chanyeol replied, blushing only slightly when Sehun

decided to use him to dance against, “You are so lucky I’m not sober.”

Sehun laughed, “You fixed things with Mr Kim then?”

“Was I that obvious?”

“You wrapped yourself up in blankets.”

“You make me sound pitiful.”

“A baby,” Sehun cooed.

Chanyeol couldn’t remember how much time he spent dancing with

Sehun, or Jongin, or strangers, or the amount of trips he’d made to the
bar and threatened Baekhyun to not come within three metres of him
with that glowing yellow drink – he had his suspicions, when he found
Baekhyun sat smirking, on his phone.

He liked to think about what would happen with Minseok if he just

pissed him off – did the lawyer even get mad? Or did he prefer
alternative… punishments. Chanyeol was willing to find out. What
would even piss the older man off? Even after their encounter this
morning, Minseok had just retreated to his neutral face, eyes sharp and
knowing – would he see fire in place of irises?

Drunk. He was drunk.

Dancing with strangers was never a great idea – unless you were
Sehun, and could actually lead in dancing. There was one particular
guy, Chanyeol had danced with him for a song or two, but hadn’t
accepted the drink the other man had bought for him – a blatant action
to show he wasn’t interested. So when he took his exit for a bathroom
break, or just a break, he felt a flash of irritation burn under his skin
where the other man had grabbed his wrist.

Chanyeol pulled his wrist from the grip, throwing a blatantly dirty look
at the guy as he started for the bathroom – except, the dick didn’t know
when to give up. A strong hand on Chanyeol’s chest had him pushed
against the wall, the stranger’s face offensively close.

“Fancy a good time, sweetheart?” The words were alcohol laced.

“No, I’m good,” Chanyeol replied, pushing the man well away from
him.

“C’mon, doll, I can-,”

“He said no.”

The stranger’s hand was no longer reaching for him and Chanyeol had
already frozen at the tone of the familiar voice.

Minseok wasn’t looking at Chanyeol, his eyes confident and downright

scary as he stared at the shock on the stranger’s face. Chanyeol could
tell that Minseok’s grip was painful when the stranger hissed and
snatched his arm back, walking away with muttered curses under his
breath.
“What the fuck?” Is all Chanyeol managed.

“Baekhyun sent me videos on Snapchat.”

“You have Snapchat?” Chanyeol fell back against the wall in defeat,
the world spinning at the corners of his vision, “You’re, like, ancient.”

“We should leave,” Minseok replied, cocking an eyebrow at

Chanyeol’s laugh.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed down there in your…whatever,”

Chanyeol’s mind didn’t know where that was going, “I’m an adult,
who makes adult decisions – I don’t need you to,” He then waved his
hands in explanation, “I could’ve sorted this out on my own.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Minseok returned, his tone more amused
than before.

Chanyeol groaned.

And reached forward, grasping the front of Minseok’s shirt as he

brought their mouths together – he knew he was drunk and this was
irrational, but Minseok was just there and his lips were there and his
eyes were daring him. Drunk Chanyeol did not back down from dares.

Minseok pulled away first, laughing at Chanyeol’s noise of discontent.

“You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”

“Who are you, my daddy?” And really, Chanyeol lacked inhibition at

this point.

The lawyer let himself be pulled back by Chanyeol, kissing the

younger into the wall until Chanyeol’s lips were swollen and saliva
pooled at the corners of his mouth. He made awkward eye contact with
a passer-by and blushed, swallowing down his embarrassment.
Alcohol was weird.
“So,” Chanyeol slurred as Minseok led him from through the bar,
“How long were you – y’know, like, creeping? I mean watching.”

“Long enough to see you weren’t interested.”

Chanyeol must have looked like a child when he stopped, pulling

Minseok back to him as he snapped, “I can handle myself, I don’t need
a knight in… whatever fucking brand of suit this shit is, seriously
Minseok can you just-,”

And then Chanyeol was kissing Minseok again, kissing him against the
bar between people trying to order drinks and some distinct part of his
brain was certain he heard Baekhyun’s annoying glee.

That’s all he remembered, really.

He woke up in Minseok’s bed – Minseok’s otherwise empty bed.

Beneath the acid feeling of his stomach and the throbbing of his head,
Chanyeol felt a pang of something close to embarrassment. He’d
kissed Minseok a lot; in the bar, in the parking lot, against Minseok’s
car, in Minseok’s car. Minseok had driven them both back here, no
driver, and Chanyeol distinctly remembered touching way too much of
Minseok until the lawyer had practically growled at him to stop lest he
pull the car over.

They hadn’t done anything past kissing, Chanyeol remembered. He’d

been drunk and Minseok had made sure he got back in one piece,
nothing further.

There was a glass of water on Minseok’s bedside table aside two

painkillers, which Chanyeol swallowed before making his way into
Minseok’s bathroom. At least he hadn’t thrown up. He should’ve
thrown up on Baekhyun the fucking traitor – not only that, but
Minseok used Snapchat? Chanyeol was certain he was confusing
dreams with memories.
He felt better after showering and drinking more water, pulling on his
favourite Minseok sweater to find the latter.

For once, Minseok was sat on the sofa facing the horizon view of the
city and Chanyeol stopped for a moment, just appreciating the outline
of the other man against the skylight. He swallowed around the
thought that this was dangerous territory and dangerously domestic.

Slipping onto the other side of the sofa, Chanyeol pulled the sweater
over his knees and rested his head on his kneecaps, watching Minseok
file away his paper into a yellow file.

“How are you feeling?” Minseok asked, setting the file aside.

“Alive,” Chanyeol replied, “Thank you. For last night, I mean. All of
it.”

“I didn’t do it to be thanked, Chanyeol,” Minseok responded, taking a

sip from his coffee cup.

“I’m still thankful,” Chanyeol muttered, playing with the cuff of his
sleeve, “We should probably talk.”

“We should,” Minseok confirmed, before turning to properly face

Chanyeol, “But – you’re right, I was a hard-ass, I didn’t let you explain
before I assumed, which was rather reckless of me. I want to
apologise, if you’ll let me.”

“Apology accepted,” Chanyeol slid one of his legs out from beneath
the sweater to prod Minseok with his foot, “So, I guess now is that
‘maybe next time’ we both mentioned, huh?”

“If you want it to be.”

Chanyeol hated how easy it was for Minseok’s words to fill him with
warmth – he hated how his brain so easily responded to the way
Minseok ran a hand over his leg without hesitation, how comfortable
he felt like this.
“I was a law student, some prestige law school I was sent to the
moment I was old enough,” Chanyeol started, shuffling a little closer
to Minseok, “The family name, the family business, the family pride,
y’know? I had my reserves about it, I’ve always wanted to study
different things – but I didn’t mind doing this, for them; if that’s what
they wanted.”

Minseok hummed at appropriate times, his thumb rubbing gentle

circles into Chanyeol’s knee.

“Then second year happens, and my birthday happens – and I figure

I’m tired of hiding myself from them, so I bring a date. He was a sweet
guy, smart too; everything they would have wanted me to find in a
partner, y’know, if he was a girl. They had too much pride in their
status, said I brought shame and other bullshit.”

“Bullshit, indeed.”

Chanyeol sank into the cushions, sighing, “By the end of the night,
they introducing me to a girl from the Yang firm – I wasn’t aware
arranged marriages were still legal, but there I was, introducing myself
to a girl they wanted me to marry for status.”

Minseok exhaled, pulling Chanyeol’s legs over his lap so he could

move him closer, “What did you do?”

“I told them I was leaving, so my father pulled every cent from any
account I owned – left me with nothing, trapped me there with no
option but to continue attending college. Kept my sexuality a secret
and used it against me when he could.”

“I never had any personal dislike towards your parents before, but,”
Minseok sighed, pulling Chanyeol closer to himself, “That’s
despicable.”

“My mom was less… Well, she didn’t hate me, at least. But I couldn’t
live like that, I couldn’t marry a stranger like a pawn for power – and I
couldn’t go to the police, because as much as I resented what they
were doing, their firm employs…hundreds of people.”

“But, what they did – it wasn’t right.”

“Sehun and I, we saved money where we could. His parents were not,
y’know, millionaires, but they had money – and I’ll repay them for
helping me, one day, if I can. I slipped out one night, we took cheap
buses to places we didn’t even know existed and as scary as it was to
be somewhere unknown at 3am, I felt more free than I had ever before.
Sehun transferred colleges and I found an apartment I could afford
with the jobs I had managed to find.”

There was a lull in the conversation wherein the words seemed to sink
into the room – Chanyeol could feel Minseok watching him, he could
feel the way it made his cheeks burn red until he wanted to hide his
face completely. Before Chanyeol could bury his head in Minseok’s
neck, the latter took a hold of his chin and tipped his head upwards. He
leaned down and kissed Chanyeol, soft and filled with something
Chanyeol couldn’t quite place – but it made that irritating warmth
spread through his chest and he wanted to cap it, to stop it from
developing into something deeper than it had already rooted.

“I’m happier like this,” Chanyeol said, fighting the blush even though
it turned his ears red, “Doing what I want to do, I mean. It sucks I can’t
study music at college, but, this is good.”

“I’m glad,” Minseok murmured, pressing his lips against Chanyeol’s

head.

It wasn’t fair that Minseok was allowed to make him feel this way,
unbothered. He needed to get a hold of himself.

“So, what’s your story?” Chanyeol prodded, shivering slightly when

Minseok’s hand moved to his thigh, “You’re so young, and yet, Chen-
Xi?”
“I’m older than I look,” Minseok answered, receiving a scoff from
Chanyeol, “Graduated top of my class, joined a firm as fresh meat with
a friend. Joined a firm we knew was rotting with corruption.”

“Your friend – Chen?”

Minseok hummed his confirmation, “We work well together, we didn’t

spend long in the shitty bullpens and soon shared a rather spacious
office – they assigned us to a Chinese branch, so we spent a lot of time
flying back and forth. When the firm went under, we orphaned our
branch and kept our clients. We had contacts – Jongdae, that’s Chen,
his father CEO’s a pharmaceutical company. It was guaranteed
success.”

“There’s success and then there’s… Chen-Xi,” Chanyeol commented.

“It wasn’t easy, or simple,” Minseok responded, “There are many

snakes disguised in Armani. The employers of the old firm, the ones
we could trust, were more than willing to bring themselves and their
clients to Chen-Xi.”

Chanyeol wasn’t sure when Minseok had slid his hand up to

Chanyeol’s underwear, but he gasped when the cool fingers slipped
beneath.

“Am I staying for dinner?” Chanyeol asked, as innocently as possible,

as Minseok palmed him through his underwear.

“I’d like that,” Minseok leaned down to lick into Chanyeol’s mouth.

The younger granted him access with ease, his breath stuttering as
Minseok palmed him through his underwear, stroking him to hardness.
And smirking.

Chanyeol did not like that smirk.

“Last night, in the car,” Minseok began and the younger knew this
wasn’t ending well, “I was driving, you were not generous with your
hands, Chanyeol.”

“I…”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to,” Minseok smirked and
Chanyeol groaned, falling back onto the sofa as Minseok stood, “No
touching.”

His mouth fell open a little, “But…”

“Mhm, touch yourself and you will not come tonight.”

Throwing an arm over his eyes in an attempt to will his hardness away,
he thought of all the gross things one might tend to avoid in such
situations. His mind kept returning to Minseok, his long fingers and
silver tongue – he needed to distract himself.

He watched Minseok disappear into his office, before pulling out his
phone to check his friends were still alive.

[(tall) man child]

> brooooo bsekjyn saidf MR KM COLLECTE DYOU
> bro dont yu hate it whe n caps lock STAYS CAPslOCK
> if bake his right frri,.i.p ur ass tomreeow
> I jusssssssssssssssss got home
> i miss junmyeon

As he was reading through Sehun’s mess of texts, another came

through and he snorted.

> ignore that message if you want to live.

> baekhyun’s alive, if you were wondering

Chanyeol sent back his usually ‘still alive’ messages before tossing his
phone aside and stretching out on Minseok’s sofa. His head lolled to
the side and he stared through the glass, his eyes following the
movement of clouds for a few moments before he picked himself up to
move closer. He stole some of the pieces of paper Minseok had left
lying around and situated himself to sit in front of the windows.

When he wrote music, the rest of the world merged into a blur – it was
still there, a dark smudge of a reminder that the earth was still
spinning, but Chanyeol’s mind was elsewhere. He played one of his
lyric-less demos from his phone, listening to the layers of his own
music as he peered across the sky in thought. He’d already made a
mess of scribbles and circled lines on the paper, tapping the pencil on
his knee like a drum when he paused to re-read what he’d written
down.

Sometimes his lyrics never made sense and he had to dig deep to pull
any real meaning from them – Baekhyun called it shitposting.
Chanyeol agreed.

He was unsure how long it had been, but the sun had moved across the
sky a significant distance when he finally removed his headphones to
stand. Stretching and yawning, Chanyeol was mildly surprised to find
his hangover hadn’t made a comeback.

Chanyeol trudged into the kitchen, opening cupboards to peer inside

until he made it to the fridge. As he moved to open one of the double
doors, he stifled a jump when two arms wrapped around him from
behind.

Minseok chuckled against Chanyeol’s shoulder, the action tickling his

ear as he failed to suppress a shiver.

“Work got boring?” Chanyeol asked, making no move to open the

fridge.

“No need to get stressed about work when I have all I need out here.”

“Are you planning to fuck me in your kitchen?” He asked, his

heartbeat quickening slightly in thought.
“I might be,” Minseok murmured, pressing kisses along the back of
Chanyeol’s neck.

“That’s-,” He had to bite his tongue when Minseok bit him, “That’s
probably unhygienic.”

“I’ll make sure to question you about kitchen hygiene when I spread
you out over the counter and fuck you so hard you’re begging to
come.”

“Fuck.”

“I really ought to do something about that mouth,” Minseok said, his

hands turning Chanyeol to face him.

Minseok gave him one last, hungry kiss before tying his tie around
Chanyeol’s head, securing it in his mouth securely. Chanyeol gave a
tester bite to the material in his mouth, moaning at the new feeling of
the gag.

“Keep the sweater on,” Minseok mentioned as he lifted Chanyeol to sit

on the worktop, “I want to fuck you wearing my clothes.”

Chanyeol groaned around the gag.

He slid Chanyeol’s underwear down his thighs, smirking as he realised

Chanyeol was already half-hard and sensitive from being left hard
earlier. It took almost all of Chanyeol’s will power to keep from
thrusting up into Minseok’s fist when the elder began to stroke him –
he bit down on the gag, saliva already starting to pool in his mouth.

Blushing a dark red when he realised he was drooling, Minseok didn’t

hesitate to collect the saliva with his thumb before using it to circle
Chanyeol’s entrance. Chanyeol couldn’t help but jolt forward, his legs
looking for purchase on something other than empty air.

Minseok’s chuckle was deep and Chanyeol could only watch as he

lubed his fingers slowly, pushing the first into Chanyeol at such a slow
pace that the younger wanted to fuck Minseok’s hand himself. He tried
to beg around the gag, but all that left his mouth was a muffled sob and
Minseok began to pump his finger – it was an agonizingly slow pace
and Chanyeol almost cried in relief when he added a second finger.

Except, Minseok seemed really adamant against quickening his pace.

Chanyeol breathed in harshly, his mind waiting for the moment

Minseok’s curved fingers found the cluster of nerves they were
looking for – and when he found what he was looking for, Minseok
added a third finger and continued to stimulate his prostate until
Chanyeol was a trembling mess. He desperately wanted to wrap his
legs around Minseok’s waist, but he knew doing so would only result
in a longer wait.

At four fingers and a pace so slow Chanyeol felt like he was dying, the
younger was already sensitive and over-stimulated. He cried out every
time Minseok made a sudden move, his eyes watering as he begged
Minseok to ungag him.

“Not yet, Princess,” Minseok said in response to the muffles, “Pinch

my arm if you want me to stop, okay?”

He waited for Chanyeol’s nod before continuing to pump his fingers in

and out of Chanyeol.

Chanyeol was ready, Minseok knew he was ready yet he continued to

use his fingers – and every time Chanyeol cried out particularly loudly,
one step closer to coming, Minseok would slow down and bring him
away from the edge again. His throat was going to be hoarse in the
morning if he continued to whine like this.

The thought made Chanyeol clench around Minseok’s fingers and the
older man smirked, removing his fingers and wiping them on the
sweater.

When Minseok finally slipped out of his pants, casting them aside to
clean up later, Chanyeol almost cried in relief.
He buried himself into Chanyeol in one thrust, allowing the other to
wrap his legs around his waist to hold him in place. Light kisses along
his jaw distracted Chanyeol as he adjusted to Minseok’s size, breathing
deeply through his nose as his saliva continued to dampen the tie in his
mouth.

Chanyeol’s cock remained hard against his stomach, a need for release
heightened by the edging Minseok had dragged out. When he was
finally ready for the other to start thrusting, he made a noise around his
gag that pulled a smirk from Minseok.

“Did I hear a ‘please’ there, Kitten?”

His plea was far whinier this time, still muffled by the gag all the same
– but Minseok was satisfied, he pulled out to the tip, before thrusting
back in. Chanyeol cried out, trying to meet Minseok’s thrusts as the
other began fucking into him. His heels were digging into Minseok’s
back, pulling him back harder each time as Minseok fucked him on the
countertop.

With each thrust, a noise left Chanyeol’s throat until he was clenching
around Minseok – asking him for more, asking him to come, asking
for it harder.

One of Minseok’s hands tangled in Chanyeol’s hair as he fucked into

him faster, pulling Chanyeol’s head back to expose his neck – he found
it difficult to breathe like this, his airways restricted to just his nose.
The reduced oxygen intake had him clenching hard around Minseok in
pleasure.

Minseok, taking advantage of Chanyeol’s bare neck, lowered his

mouth to leave trails of his lips and nips of his teeth along the column
of skin and Chanyeol was unsure how longer he could last – with his
neck bared, Minseok’s fingers tugging his hair back and Minseok
fucking into him relentlessly with his legs around Minseok’s waist.

It took him a few seconds to register Minseok untying the gag and he
savoured breathing through his mouth as he kissed wherever he could
reach of Minseok to muffle his moans.

“I wanna hear you,” Minseok gasped after a particularly hard thrust,

“Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.”

And Chanyeol couldn’t have muffled his mouth if he tried, especially

when Minseok wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped him in
rhythm with his thrusts.

“Minseok-please, fuck, I’m so-,” His buried his head in Minseok’s

neck to whimper, “I’m so close.”

Minseok pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s ear to murmur, “Come for
me, Park Chanyeol. You look so beautiful, so fucked out – all for me,
hm?”

His build-up was finally pushed tumbling over the edge and he came
with a cry, his come dirtying the sweater as he clenched hard around
Minseok, who gasped and fucked him through his orgasm – his thrusts
were growing less rhythmic as he fucked into Chanyeol in search of
his own release, his hips snapping hard into Chanyeol and making him
cry out consistently in over-stimulation.

“Minseok, Minseok, please,” Chanyeol cried out, “Come in me. Fuck,

Minseok, please-,”

“Chanyeol, so fucking perfect-,”

Minseok was tipped over the edge, his hands grasping Chanyeol’s
shoulders tightly as he fucked into him again and again, coming hard.

Chanyeol’s hair and sweater were sticking to him with his sweat, he
felt dirty but so content. He figured Minseok did, too, as he continued
to pant against Chanyeol’s neck from where he’d slumped against him
in an attempt to catch his breath.

Consider him an optimist, but Chanyeol was more than certain he

could feel Minseok smiling against his skin.
Definitely an optimist.
 Chapter 4

This was not how Chanyeol had planned to spend his lazy late Sunday
afternoon.

He’d spent the last hour sorting through a ridiculously large pile of
apartment ads that Sehun, the fucking delight, had deemed up to his
‘classy’ standards. When Chanyeol had made it to the edge of giving
up, mere seconds from throwing all of the ads through their open
window, Baekhyun had arrived like a god-send armed with take-out
and Chanyeol had been forced to sit through another hour.

“You’ve lived in two places your entire life, stop trying to give us real
estate advice.”

“I’m just saying-,”

“Finish that sentence,” Sehun started, his voice carefully low, “And I
will revoke your visitation permits, Byun.”

Chanyeol’s laugh was interrupted by a knock on their door and he

cocked at an eyebrow at Sehun, who offered him nothing more than a
shrug. Any of their friends called before turning up (save for
Baekhyun, he never understood etiquette) and the only other person to
knock would be Junmyeon – except, well, that remained a raw subject.

“People still knock on doors,” Baekhyun said as Sehun pushed himself

up to stand, “Whaaat.”

If Sehun’s back hadn’t been to them, Chanyeol suspected he would’ve

seen the younger roll his eyes, except he just mumbled for the other to
sit his ass down.

Baekhyun was hot on Sehun’s heels as they both made a sudden

scramble to the door, somewhat akin to eager puppies curious to find
what had made the knocking noise. The issue arose when Sehun threw
the door open and the person beyond was blocked from Chanyeol’s
line of sight, it took no more than 3 seconds for Sehun to freeze and
for Baekhyun to make an immediate U-turn, throwing himself across
Chanyeol’s lap. Baekhyun’s eyes were wide, his only tell, and Sehun
was silently staring at the person beyond their doorway.

“Good afternoon, Sehun,” A voice Chanyeol hadn’t heard in years

greeted, “Is Chanyeol home?”

“Kyungsoo,” Sehun responded, his tone cold.

Chanyeol had never been more thankful for Baekhyun, who’d

anchored him to the sofa with his arms wrapped tightly around his
body – he would’ve laughed at the other’s antiques, except he felt sick
sidled alongside something that urged his legs to bolt in the other
direction.

Which, considering they were five floors up, was not a bright idea.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kyungsoo’s voice was as deep as

Chanyeol remembered it, stirring a sickening nostalgia within his
chest.

Sehun’s tone was bitter, “I don’t owe you, or them, shit.”

“Difficult as always, I see.”

“So, what?” Sehun’s laugh was humourless, “You’re their lapdog,

now? What’d they give you, an actual fucking desk to work from?”

“I’m merely a messenger,” Kyungsoo replied, nonchalant to Sehun’s

dig, “If you could give this to Chanyeol, I’d be ever so thankful.”

He watched as his friend accepted something across the threshold and

slammed the door in their old acquaintance’s face. Sehun turned back
to the duo on the sofa, his knuckles white where he gripped a cream-
coloured envelope tight.
Chanyeol felt sick.

He’d expected they’d find him one day – he just hadn’t expected it
would be any time soon. Wishful thinking.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sehun said and Chanyeol could hear his best
friend’s resurfaced anger, “We’re moving anyway, right? Seriously,
fuck them – all this time after their bullshit and they send Do fucking
Kyungsoo, was that supposed to scare us?”

“He is kinda scary,” Baekhyun mumbled into Chanyeol’s neck, “All

that ‘merely the messenger’ bullshit.”

Sehun dropped himself aside the pair on the sofa, letting out a long
breath before he asked, “You okay?”

“No.”

“Shut up, Baekhyun.”

“Been better,” Chanyeol replied, half certain Baekhyun was more

worried than him. He took a deep breath, wanting to laugh at the way
Baekhyun still clung to him, “But, like you said, we’re moving. It
doesn’t matter.”

“It’s hand-written,” Sehun informed, still holding the envelope, “I

don’t recall them ever being so personal.”

Baekhyun took the envelope from Sehun, earning a glare from the
younger. Chanyeol let him, not trusting his own fingers not to shake.
He could feel his heart-rate quicken as Baekhyun opened the envelope
and removed a folded letter – also hand-written. It was most likely
from his mother. He held his breath as his eyes scanned the page,
certain words almost screaming at him from the page. Cliché expected
words like ‘I’m sorry’ and…

“I’m sick,” Baekhyun read aloud, his voice quiet, “I don’t want your
forgiveness, I just want to know that you’re doing well – but, you
always did, I know I shouldn’t worry-,”

“Baek,” Sehun interrupted, “Stop.”

“Can you-,” Chanyeol swallowed the tremble in his voice, trying to

think straight, “Can you get off me? Please.”

Baekhyun slid from his lap instantly, more hesitant than Chanyeol had
ever seen him – the image was hardly comprehensible in his mind as
he headed for his bedroom, closing the door behind him and sinking to
the floor like he was 16 years old again. And he did feel 16 years old
again, except he preferred this room to the walls he’d spent most of his
life holed within.

He let himself breathe, let his eyes close as he tried to think rationally.

He knew this wasn’t his mom’s fault, but she hadn’t done anything to
stop his father – hadn’t spoken out once when his father shunned him
and took everything from him, yelled words at him that no teenager
should have to listen to. Had arranged a fucking wedding with some
girl he’d never even met before. Chanyeol hadn’t built a life for
himself for it to be taken away by them all over again.

Except. It wasn’t like he didn’t care for them anymore; they were
still... his parents.

He missed his mom. And she was sick. And Chanyeol had left her
behind when he’d left everything else behind – he didn’t regret
leaving, he was never going to agree to an arranged marriage and his
life was never going to look up. They cared more for their firm than
they did for him and Chanyeol had accepted that.

Finding it within himself to look back down at the card, he realised

she’d written a personal number at the bottom of the page in her
perfect scrawl. Everything about them had always been so perfectly
arranged and he didn’t miss it.

Before he could back out, he dialled the number.

As it rang, he found it difficult to breathe.

“Hello?” Her voice caused him to huff out a laugh of defeat, allowing
his head to roll back against his door.

“Hi, mom.”

“Chanyeol?” There was a pause, “I didn’t expect you to call, I didn’t

expect… you read my letter?”

“Yeah, I read it,” Chanyeol confirmed, unable to raise his voice any
higher than the quiet tone, “You’re sick.”

“I regret that it took this much for you to even agree to calling me,”
His mom began, but her voice was soft, “But, I couldn’t avoid the
topic. Things are looking uncertain, as of yet.”

“Uncertain?” He asked, his voice small.

“I was taken to hospital seven months ago, we suspected it was

something minor, but,” She laughed and Chanyeol wanted to bury
himself in his bed and never return, “I’m getting old, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol couldn’t think of words to reply.

“I just want-,” She paused and Chanyeol realised she was coughing.
His heart hurt.

“It’s okay,” He said, unsure what he was referring to.

“I just want to see you. Will you agree to a lunch with me?”

“Will he be there?” Chanyeol asked, not needing to specify.

“He wants to see you, too, Chanyeol. You’re our son.”

Chanyeol had a thousand bitter retorts to that statement, but he knew it

wasn’t the time. His hands were shaking, oxygen apparently refusing
to enter his lungs despite his breathing.
“One lunch,” Chanyeol answered, “I’m doing this for you.”

“That’s all I ask. Thank you, Chanyeol.”

The conversation remained short, yet Chanyeol was unsure what he’d
done afterwards. The hours blended together as he allowed himself to
think, rest, an attempt not to stress over the things he’d learned to let
go of.

Baekhyun found him, hours later, wrapped cosily within a familiar

cocoon of blankets. The annoyance prodded at Chanyeol until he
sighed, unable to swat him away and accepted the other’s attempts to
climb beneath the covers. Baekhyun wrapped himself around
Chanyeol from behind, stealing one of his headphones without guilt.

Sehun had already checked in on him (and Chanyeol had reminded the
younger that he wasn’t, in fact, a child – and Sehun had smacked him
upside the head). He’d left hot cocoa on the bedside table that
Chanyeol had forgotten about; he appreciated the sentiment, though it
failed to bring back his appetite.

Even in silence Chanyeol could feel Baekhyun’s mind brim over with
questions.

It took him thirty seconds to break, “Sehun said you agreed to lunch.”

Chanyeol didn’t want to think about it, “Yeah.”

“We could accompany you, you know,” Baekhyun tried, taking

Chanyeol’s phone to skip to songs that weren’t sad, “Tag team
dragging your dad. Also, dumbass, sad songs make you sad.”

Snorting, Chanyeol could picture the scene well – Sehun and

Baekhyun were the best people he knew for insults, they were fluent.
To witness it was like witnessing art.

“I appreciate the thought, but, no.”

“Don’t get sad again,” Baekhyun blurted out, which in turn made
Chanyeol sigh and turn to lay facing him on the bed, “I know I wasn’t
there when Sehun was, and I wish I was – but, you looked kinda lost
when you first got here, y’know? But you picked yourself up and you
made this life and made hot friends like me and-,”

“Baek,” Chanyeol interrupted, because if he didn’t, the other wouldn’t

have stopped, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m not your hottest friend?”

Chanyeol laughed, blowing Baekhyun’s hair away from his eyes, “I’m
okay, really. Anxious as fuck and a little scared, but I’m okay. I have
good, hot friends, and my life is in a good place.”

“Is your dad gonna be there?” Baekhyun started with a thoughtful

look, he continued after Chanyeol’s nod, “Take Minseok. Nothing says
‘fuck you’ like bringing their enemy as a date to your lunch together.”

“Byun Baekhyun,” Chanyeol responded, the positively awful idea

sounded perfectly appealing, “You are a genius.”

Baekhyun replied with some egotistical retort that Chanyeol ignored as

he exhaled back into the comfort of his bed.

Of course it was a bad idea (it was Baekhyun’s idea), but it wouldn’t
be the end of the world. He was going to the lunch to see his mom, his
father’s presence and opinion was irrelevant. It only evened out the
table – literally, his father on one side and Minseok on the other. So
perhaps Minseok would leave the most imperfect impression,
Chanyeol couldn’t help but admit the smallest, tiniest fact that the air
was always easier to breathe when Minseok was around.

There was also the possibility that Minseok wouldn’t want to go with
him – and, why would he? The lunch was a set up for disaster, having
his father sat across from Kim fucking Xiumin.
Admittedly, Chanyeol was anticipating the next time he saw Minseok -
the lawyer never left him waiting long, often calling late after work
with a promise of making the younger's effort worth it. They'd
developed a sort-of-maybe routine, in which Chanyeol really tried not
to take their arrangement for granted and successfully managed to hold
any feelings at bay.

With the occasional blip, of course - as expected when one woke up

with Minseok curled around oneself from behind.

'At bay' merely meant Chanyeol had learned to keep any physical
reaction under control, despite the racing of his heart and the pooling
of childish butterflies in his stomach when Minseok did something as
simple as smile at him.

It was fine, really.

In the meantime, the days to Chanyeol's lunch with his mom were
counting down and Chanyeol was yet to even bring up the subject to
Minseok - though he had grown familiar with Minseok's driver, a
charismatic man by the name of Kim Heechul with too much brain to
be just a driver.

"I'm not just a driver," Heechul huffed when Chanyeol mentioned it in

passing.

"You deliver our food on occasion," Chanyeol replied with fake-

thought, "How could I forget?"

"Listen, brat, you're lucky you're likeable."

"Thanks, I think."

"I'm not just a driver," Heechul clarified, pausing as he came to a rest

at a red light, "And I'm pretty sure picking up booty calls is something
not listed in my contract."
Chanyeol didn't blush until he noticed the suggestive rise of Heechul's
eyebrows in the mirror, "Where do I apply for a different driver?"

“Sorry, cupcake," The driver replied, not sorry in the slightest, "I’m the
best of the best.”

“Do you ever stop talking?"

“Hey! I pick you up and drop you off when Mr Kim needs a piece of
ass, don't disrespect me. I’m older than you.”

“Yeah," It was Chanyeol's turn to tease, "How was world war two?”

“I’m not that old, you brat.”

“My bad - it's just hard to tell."

"I hope you choke on his dick, to be honest."

Chanyeol choked on air.

No more than half an hour later, Chanyeol was watching the elevator
doors slide open to reveal Minseok's apartment. A smell that had
Chanyeol ditching his coat on the sofa wafted through the air from the
kitchen, and Chanyeol was welcomed to the beautiful sight of the
lawyer stood with his back to him.

Minseok's sleeves were rolled up and his tie missing, he was chopping
vegetables Chanyeol probably didn't know the name of and adding
them to a frying pan.

Chanyeol convinced himself it was his dick taking control when he

wrapped his arms around the lawyer from behind, resting his chin on
Minseok's shoulder as he watched his hands slicing the vegetables.
Minseok didn't bat him away, merely hummed as Chanyeol stole the
elder's body heat.

"Miss me?" Minseok asked, a little smug as he put the mushrooms into
a separate pan.
"You wish," Chanyeol retorted, forced to walk across the kitchen with
his arms around Minseok as the lawyer retrieved something from the
fridge.

The younger made a noise of protest as Minseok turned in his arms, a

jar of something red in one hand and a knife in the other.

"This is a health hazard," Minseok started, cocking an eyebrow at

Chanyeol, "You're a health hazard."

"I'm insulted."

"Mhm, kiss me. My hands are full."

Gladly, Chanyeol thought, leaning down to kiss Minseok's mouth. It

was brief and Minseok broke away with a small smirk, intending to
leave Chanyeol unsatisfied.

As Minseok placed out their food, Chanyeol retrieved glasses from an

overhead cupboard and spent more time staring at alcohol labels than
he'd like to admit. He finally opted for the scotch whiskey they'd
shared the first night Chanyeol had been here.

Chanyeol hesitated around the best approach to invite Minseok to a

lunch wherein he most likely despised the other two attendees.

"I know it's not my place to ask favours of you," Chanyeol started after
they were a few bites into their meal.

"But you're going to, anyway," Minseok replied, amused.

"Okay," He readied himself with a sip of the scotch, "It's a little

stupid."

Minseok raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure how, but my parents finally figured out where I lived - I
mean, they probably paid someone to do some bordering unlawful
digging, but," Chanyeol shrugged with one shoulder, trying to appear
nonchalant, "My mom invited me to lunch."

"And you're going to go?"

Chanyeol nodded, "There are a few... complications. She wanted to see

me. It's just an extreme downside that my father is also joining."

"You want me to accompany you," Minseok answered for him, picking

up his own glass with that God-awful neutral facial expression.

"I know it's dumb. You were offended when you thought I agreed to
this arrangement to spite them - I shouldn't have asked. I'll go with
Sehun-."

"Chanyeol," The lawyer interrupted, seemingly unphased, "If you want

me to accompany you, I will."

"Oh," Chanyeol closed his mouth to stop himself from rambling.

“I also have a favour to ask of you," Minseok continued after chewing,

"There is a publicity charity event coming up, I'd much rather not sit
through that alone."

"You want us both to die of boredom?"

"And other things," Minseok hummed, "I'd rather enjoy showing you
off."

Chanyeol swallowed, pink spreading to his ears; it wasn't like he was

going to say no, there was a slight tilt to Minseok's lips that told
Chanyeol the lawyer already had plans for that night. He almost
shuddered from where he sat across the dinner table. Minseok smirked,
knowingly.

“I want to buy you a tux. My tailor would most likely enjoy figuring
out the best way to fit a tux along your legs.”
“Of course you have a personal tailor,” was all Chanyeol chose to
acknowledge.

Minseok’s eyebrow quirked, “Is that a yes?”

“My own personal tux,” Chanyeol answered, though the thought of

such an event was mildly nerve-inducing, “How could I refuse?”

“That’s sorted, then. I’ll take you to see Kibum tomorrow,” The lawyer
informed, taking Chanyeol’s mostly-eaten plate to stack it atop his
own, “When is the date of our lunch?”

“Um,” Chanyeol bit his lip, “Saturday?”

The lawyer stared at him, “Saturday as in the day after tomorrow?”

“Um,” He repeated, feelingly slightly sheepish, “Maybe.”

Minseok set his empty glass down as he continued to stare at

Chanyeol, “And when did you agree to this lunch?”

“…Last week.”

“It took you this long to ask,” Minseok stated, no question involved.

In retrospect, Chanyeol probably should have brought the lunch up to

Minseok the moment he’d opted to include the lawyer – Minseok was
evidently busier than anyone Chanyeol knew and now he felt mildly
stupid for not thinking ahead. He’d been avoiding it, perhaps not
purposefully, but the words ‘dangerously domestic’ were becoming
common place in his mind.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to waste your time,” He replied after a

moment’s pause.

For the first time in Chanyeol’s memory, Minseok appeared slightly

exasperated, “You are an idiot.”
“That is offensive and uncalled for,” Chanyeol wasn’t even slightly
phased, he rather enjoyed watching Minseok fail to mask his neutral
face.

“And yet I’m still accompanying you to this lunch.”

“And I will be eternally grateful,” Chanyeol responded, realising the

implication behind his words only after Minseok’s lips twitched into a
smirk.

“I assume lunch will be somewhere nice,” Minseok moved their plates

to the kitchen as he spoke, “I want to buy a suit for this, too.”

“Um. Why?”

“A good impression,” The lawyer replied easily, leaning against one of

the kitchen countertops, “You’re living wonderfully without them.”

A part of Chanyeol suspected the world would end if Minseok and

Baekhyun were ever given time to conspire together.

One of the surprisingly positives of spending time at Minseok’s

apartment was that they had an apparent productive effect on each
other. Chanyeol was sat with his back against the windows with his
favourite view as Minseok remained perched on the sofa, both
surrounded with pages of work and silence.

So, maybe Chanyeol preferred this view; Minseok with his round
glasses and pretty fingers tapping occasionally across the keys of his
Mac. Maybe the sight of the lawyer so immersed in his own world that
everything else appeared seemingly irrelevant aided the glide of
Chanyeol’s pen across his papers as his guitar sat heavy in his lap.
Minseok had said he didn’t mind the pieced together beginnings of
Chanyeol’s work – had moved temporarily from his office to steal
glances at Chanyeol when he thought the younger wasn’t paying
attention.
Except, Chanyeol was paying attention – because he’d been doing the
same, had been taking small breaks in his compositions to watch
Minseok’s eyes glide over words Chanyeol probably wouldn’t
understand.

“How is apartment hunting?”

Chanyeol blinked, mind focusing back into the room like a cliché
camera lens, “Hardly hunting – we found a nice place up to Sehun
Standards.”

Minseok huffed a tired laugh and Chanyeol was pretty fucking sure he
just felt his heart melt into his ribs.

“How is Sehun?” The lawyer asked.

“You heard?”

“I’m rather observant,” Minseok answered, and then cracked a small

smile, “But Junmyeon spills anything if you ask the right questions.”

“Sehun’s… okay, ish? I think,” Chanyeol set his guitar aside,

collecting the sheet music sprawled in the floor space around him,
“How’s Junmyeon?”

He missed Junmyeon a small amount – how could he not when the

man was like a puppy?

“He’s okay. I suppose they’ll figure it out in their own ways.”

“I hope it’s soon,” Chanyeol muttered, setting the sheet music aside
that wasn’t meant to be played by guitar, “Sehun has no one else to
focus his attention on. I’m flattered but it’s overwhelming and I swear
I’m gaining weight by the second. He doesn’t like to eat alone.”

Minseok laughed again – except Chanyeol was semi-serious. Their

freezer had more ice cream than Chanyeol had even seen in a store
freezer before. Baekhyun hadn’t been complaining.
“I thought you said you liked working with a view,” Minseok
mentioned, watching as Chanyeol unfolded his legs.

“I prefer this view.” Chanyeol was blushing before he even said the
words.

The lawyer hummed in reply, his eyes moving from Chanyeol to the
floor to ceiling windows in thought. Chanyeol could pinpoint the
moment the idea hit Minseok’s mind. Minseok’s eyes flitted back to
Chanyeol’s and the younger swallowed.

And that’s how Chanyeol found himself with his face pressed against
the glass, breath painting the window in steam as he struggled to keep
quiet. Minseok was stretching him slowly, massaging his ass with one
hand and pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm with the other. At
least it was one-way glass.

“How’s the view, Princess?”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol replied oh-so literately, “It’s-god. It’s nice.”

“Mhm,” Minseok curled his fingers, pressing along Chanyeol’s walls

until the younger practically bucked into the glass, “Not the answer
I’m looking for.”

“It’s pretty,” Chanyeol all but choked out, “The stars, they’re-shit,
Minseok, please fuck me already.”

“Not until you answer my question, Kitten,” He was pressing against

Chanyeol’s prostate again and Chanyeol’s legs threatened to buckle.

“I-,” His palm was sweaty against the window as he tried to focus, “I
like it. It’s-fuck. It makes me feel calm.”

Minseok added a finger, Chanyeol breathed out a groan.

“Why does it make you feel calm?”

“Oh my god, Minseok,” Chanyeol panted, “Please-.”

Chanyeol was cut off when Minseok’s hand connected with the skin of
his ass and Chanyeol yelled out, the window holding him up as the
brief sting went straight to his dick. He clenched around Minseok’s
fingers – a trembling mess.

“Fuck-,”

Smack.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Princess,” Minseok’s tone was low, his

mouth murmuring into the shell of Chanyeol’s ear, “I gagged you the
last time you were unable to control that pretty mouth. Do we need to
do that again?”

Chanyeol shook his head.

“Words, princess.”

He groaned against the window, “No, Mr Kim.”

“Now, why is it calm?”

“Because it-,” Fuck, Chanyeol groaned internally, “It’s like the world
continues to spin, regardless-,” Thrust, “-of whether I do, too.”

Chanyeol deserved an award for being so literate with three fingers in

his ass.

Deeming the answer appropriate, Minseok slid his fingers from

Chanyeol and spread his legs to lower his ass – he nudged the head of
his cock into Chanyeol, allowing a second of breathing before sinking
to the hilt. His hips were pressed against Chanyeol’s ass and Chanyeol
keened, the window a mess where he panted hard against the cool
glass.

Never had Chanyeol expected the slide of his cock against glass to feel
so good.
Minseok’s hips fucked up into Chanyeol and the younger’s pleas
turned into broken moans, the pace so quick he felt like he couldn’t
breathe – and it probably shouldn’t have, but the sensation brought
Chanyeol carefully close to the edge as he attempted to rock his hips
back into Minseok.

“Enjoying the view now, Kitten?” Minseok moved one of his hands
from Chanyeol’s hips to thread through his hair.

“God, yes.”

When Minseok gripped his hair, pulling his head back and exposing
his neck to the air, his oxygen felt trapped in his throat. Minseok’s low
groan sounded distinctly akin to a growl, the lawyer’s teeth pulling on
his ear lobe with a sharp nip that almost had Chanyeol coming across
the window.

“I bet you look so good like this, Princess,” Minseok murmured, his
lips travelling to Chanyeol’s neck, “So needy, so on edge, so ready to
come for me. God, imagine how beautiful you’d look if anyone could
see you through this glass, your legs spread so fucking nicely for me.”

“Minseok,” Chanyeol all but sobbed, crying out louder as he felt

Minseok mark a rather possessive spot upon his neck, “I’m-god, I’m
close.”

He almost cried in relief when Minseok’s hand wrapped around his

cock, his fist pumping Chanyeol in time with every thrust – three,
maybe four strokes later and the coil tightening Chanyeol’s gut
snapped loose and his mouth dropped open in a silent moan, pleasure
crashing into him as he clenched around Minseok and spilled across
the window.

Minseok was murmuring praises into his ear as he fucked into him
harder and Chanyeol cried out in over-sensitivity, Minseok’s hand still
around his cock causing his hips to jerk without his control. With a
groan muffled by Chanyeol’s skin, Minseok’s thrusts fell out of rhythm
and he came, shuddering around Chanyeol with a grip so hard
Chanyeol was sure his hip would bruise.

The lawyer’s forehead lowered against Chanyeol’s sweaty shoulder as

he caught his breath, chest rising and falling rapidly.

A glance down showed Chanyeol the mess he’d made across the
window, his chest burning red with a blush that had Minseok smirking.

“Go shower,” Minseok ordered quietly, pressing kiss to Chanyeol’s

shoulder, “I’ll join you after I’ve cleaned this.”

Chanyeol was thankful – he’d really rather avoid Minseok’s cleaner

finding out Minseok had fucked him against the living room window.
And he’d loved it.

Minseok pulled him in for a slower, gentler kiss before pushing him
towards the shower.

His chest felt a little tight.

Chanyeol would have preferred his first meeting with Minseok’s tailor
slash stylist to be less suggestive. The make-up he’d attempted to use
that morning did a poor job of hiding Minseok’s marks along his lower
neck – any other time, he wouldn’t have minded, but man, Kim Kibum
did not care for discretion.

“Your legs are too long,” Kibum muttered, five minutes into taking the
appropriate measurements.

“Um,” Chanyeol wasn’t sure how to reply and Minseok only watched
in amusement, “Sorry.”

Kibum stood up, his pink hair falling across his forehead, “I see why
he likes them.”
He felt his ears burn, looking away from Minseok to Kibum, “Likes
what?”

“Your legs,” Kibum’s tone sounded bored already.

“You like my legs?” Chanyeol asked, an attempt at a joke.

“I might.” Minseok was serious and Chanyeol had to bite the inside of
his lip to not shudder beneath the lawyer’s stare.

Kibum snorted, lifting one of Chanyeol’s arms up to measure, “This is

a charity event, right? Something simple will look good – though I
suspect you’ll look hot regardless.”

Minseok hummed in agreement and Chanyeol was finding it

increasingly difficult to stand still.

“As for the angsty parental lunch we discussed, hmm,” The stylist
circled him in thought, a finger on his chin, “Are you thinking classy,
or something more ‘rebelled’?”

Chanyeol managed to stutter out an ‘um’ that had Kibum rolling his
eyes, glancing across the room to Minseok.

“A matching blazer to the one I usually wear for publicity dinners,”

Minseok replied, leaning against the doorway to the dressing room,
“And perhaps a turtleneck to hide most of those.”

They both looked to Chanyeol for clarification, who nodded dumbly.

Kibum clapped his hands together, crossing the room to type out notes
onto a tablet, “Nothing quite screams ‘I’m gay’ at homophobic parents
than matching blazers and designer turtlenecks.”

“Nothing screams ‘I’m gay’ like bringing a fake not-boyfriend to their

lunch,” Chanyeol muttered in response.

The stylist laughed, loud and genuine, as he placed his tablet aside.
Somehow, that was how Chanyeol had won over the stylist; Kibum
had instantly warmed up to him, throwing the odd teasing comment
into their conversations as he glanced knowingly between his two
clients.

“I doubt you’ll struggle with your fake not-boyfriend rendezvous,”

Kibum commented offhandedly when Minseok left the room to take a
phone call.

“What?” Chanyeol glanced up, a little unprepared.

“Oh, please. It’s not gonna be hard to ‘fake’ – I’m not an idiot, Park
Chanyeol. You two were practically eye-fucking over my shoulder.”

“Um,” He said for the hundredth time that day, his blush deepening in
colour when Minseok slid back into the room.

Kibum rolled his eye again, holding out two materials for Chanyeol to
choose from. He returned a second later with his tape measure,
muttering something about ‘dumb long legs’ as he took another
measurement from Chanyeol’s thighs.

“I assume they’ll be done by tomorrow morning,” Minseok began,

sliding his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit.

The stylist made a semi-hostile sounding noise, shooting his employer

a glare, “You really do test my limits, Kim.”

“Only because I know you’re capable,” Minseok replied easily, “And

my favourite tailor. Will they be done by tomorrow?”

“You do know how to flatter a man,” Kibum muttered, sounding

anything but flattered, “Drop by in the morning, I’ll have lunch attire
prepared. When is the charity event?”

“Next Friday.”

Kibum straightened up, handing Chanyeol back his jacket, “I want an

invite.”
Chanyeol took his jacket silently, listening to the conversation bounce
between the pair like an unparalleled tennis game.

“Already done,” Minseok held out a blank white envelope to the

stylist, “Same table as Secretary Kim Jonghyun. I heard you’ve been
trying to sweeten him up, as of late.”

“Purely business,” Kibum remarked, taking the envelope with a small

smile, “I suspect I don’t have to tell you this, but do look after
Chanyeol. I rather like him.”

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you, Kibum.”

The morning brought nerves.

He’d spent another night at Minseok’s, though he’d fallen asleep

before the lawyer had returned home from work – he’d been woken
briefly by Minseok climbing into bed, hushing Chanyeol with
complimentary murmurs and pulling the younger to tuck into his side.
Yet somehow, by the time his alarm pulled him from sleep like cold
water to the face, Minseok was already elsewhere.

Chanyeol pushed himself up, allowing his head to roll from shoulder
to shoulder as he stretched – the actions did nothing to relax how tense
he felt. It was a sickening feeling, permanent like bile in the back of
his throat and ever so present with each beat of his heart. He was
nervous about feeling nervous, he didn’t want to move; instead, he
huffed, rubbing a hand over his face swollen with sleep.

He’d be meeting them today. For the first time in fucking years. Where
he felt resigned longing to see his mom again, he felt thick dread in
regards to his father – and although it shouldn’t be, although Chanyeol
was wordlessly aware how dangerous it was, he was comforted by the
thought of Minseok. Comforted by, comfortable with, soothed by…
Park Chanyeol, he thought, what the fuck are you doing?
“Ah,” The contented voice drew from the doorway, “Good morning,
Kitten.”

The younger smiled, though the action was strained as his eyes fell to
the clothes in Minseok’s hands, “You already picked them up?”

“I asked Heechul to,” Minseok answered, holding the clothes hangers

to Chanyeol, “Breakfast?”

Chanyeol shook his head, his stomach already filled with apprehension
as though he’d swallowed lead. He accepted the clothes, standing to
hang them in Minseok’s wardrobe before he moved to the bathroom.
Minseok watched him silently and though his face was familiarly
blank, the crinkles of his eyes were soft. He merely leaned against the
bathroom door as Chanyeol brushed his teeth and washed his face.

The younger raised an eyebrow at Minseok via the mirror.

“Am I distracting you?” Minseok asked, not remotely apologetic.

“When are you not distracting?” Chanyeol fired back, patting his face
dry with a towel.

“I believe that’s my line,” The lawyer replied, blatantly eyeing

Chanyeol’s bare legs, “You’ve taken a liking to my clothes, though.”

They smell like you, is what Chanyeol stopped himself from saying
like a creep. Instead, he blushed, depositing his toothbrush in the
holder aside Minseok’s. Dangerously domestic. It was apparent his
mind was not allowing him the time to relax, the seconds practically
draining alongside the toothpaste as he looked back to Minseok.

The lawyer looked at him in consideration for a moment, Chanyeol

could only stare back as Minseok moved into the bathroom and lifted a
hand to tilt Chanyeol’s face down. The kiss was not unlike the few
before, the gentleness in Minseok’s actions becoming commonplace
easier than Chanyeol would’ve liked – and yet, he was helpless against
it, he neglected to hesitate once as Minseok kissed him and set fire to
the butterflies lining his gut.

He kissed back as Minseok’s other hand moved to his neck, the

warmth seemed to drain through him and took with it Chanyeol’s
tension. Chanyeol sighed into the kiss, his body content and the dread
in his chest simmering to resignation. Today would happen, regardless
of whether he was prepared or not.

“I believe,” Minseok started after a moment of quiet breathing, his

thumb following the length of Chanyeol’s lip to remove any excess
saliva, “That you will be fine. I believe you will handle today
perfectly, regardless of how difficult it may be. You’ve come so far on
your own, built yourself a perfectly stable life from quite literally
nothing. One lunch will not take any of that from you.”

“I had Sehun,” Chanyeol exhaled, glancing away from Minseok’s eyes

despite their close distance, “And then I had Baekhyun and Sehun.”

“And now you have me,” Minseok hadn’t even hesitated, the words
falling from his lips like it was easy.

Chanyeol glanced back to him in barely-concealed shock, his breath

hitching at how sincere the lawyer sounded.

He probably meant it in a way different from how Chanyeol felt it, but
that didn’t stop the blush from Chanyeol’s cheeks.

Minseok laughed, kissing him once more before withdrawing entirely,

“Get dressed, I’ll make your gross hot cocoa.”

The nerves, as expected, merely increased with time. Their lunch was
set for 11.30 in a restaurant Chanyeol briefly remembered – not quite
roof-top, but had a sitting area outside that looked over the city when
the weather was nice. Heechul had been quiet as he drove, somehow
the car’s atmosphere reflecting the storm in Chanyeol’s chest.
If it was a storm, he supposed Minseok played the anchor to shoreline.
He hated this mess. Hated that somehow he’d dragged Minseok into it,
too.

It wasn’t until their elevator journey up that he blurted as much.

“You don’t have to do this,” Chanyeol was thankful they were the only
two in the glamourous elevator, Minseok quirked his eyebrow instead
of replying, “This is my mess and you shouldn’t have to-, um, sit
through it? It’s probably going to be messy and embarrassing and god I
shouldn’t have even suggested it-.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted, forcing the younger to look at him,

“I offered to accompany you. You’re nervous, I understand that, but
I’m aware of what I’m walking into.”

Chanyeol swallowed, glancing up to see they were at floor 27. Another

20 to go.

“I’m sorry.”

“Kitten, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Minseok murmured,

brushing a thumb over Chanyeol’s cheek as he cupped his face, “Do
you want me there?”

The younger hesitated, “Only if you want to be there.”

“Regardless of that, do you want me to be there?”

14 floors to go.

“Yes,” Chanyeol replied in honesty, “It gives me the upper hand.”

“Then I’m happy to accompany you,” Minseok replied, his smile

genuine, “I also assume you invited me with a slight intention of
pissing your father off, hm?”

Chanyeol had the decency to appear sheepish, “But, that’s not the only
reason!”
6 floors.

“Oh?”

“I enjoy your company,” Chanyeol admitted, though he turned away

from the lawyer to face the doors as he continued, “I thought this
would be easier with you there.”

“I see,” Minseok returned, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand once in

reassurance.

Ding.

Minseok led him through the elevator and to a desk that sparked
familiarity within his mind. There was a woman at the desk, her smile
polite as she informed Minseok that their lunch associates had already
arrived – Chanyeol felt the blood drain from his face, hand reaching
out to grasp Minseok’s forearm tightly to stop him from continuing
forward.

“Chanyeol,” Minseok murmured, pulling Chanyeol’s hand gently from

his arm, “Be nonchalant, even if it’s not genuine. It’ll be difficult, but
trust me when I say this will be easier if you pretend you don’t care. It
will look better; they’ll see how perfectly capable you are without
them. That is what you want, is it not?”

Chanyeol nodded, though he still didn’t move.

“Then that is what you do,” Minseok continued, “Park Chanyeol,

cocky musician with dimples cute enough to make a statement. You’re
confident, don’t let that go now. Fake it if you must, believe me when I
say I have experience with this.”

“Beyond those doors is a room full of snakes, I remember it,” He

laughed, albeit bitterly, “Gossiping businessmen and celebrities on
publicity dates with journalists.”

Minseok hummed in agreement, “Then we must be slippery, too.”

The lawyer left no time for argument, tilting his head in thanks to the
man who offered to show them to their table. Chanyeol followed
silently, his tongue heavy in his mouth as the anticipation gripped his
stomach with sharpened claws. It felt a little difficult to breathe.

“Mr and Mrs Park,” Minseok greeted, except his voice was cold,
professional. Xiumin.

His parents stood, looking the same, if not slightly aged. His father had
the same stubborn set of lips, his gaze as hard as Chanyeol
remembered it. His mom, on the hand, appeared frailer than he
remembered – thinner, too, but her eyes were soft and hesitated only
for a moment as she recognised Minseok.

He supposed the hardest part was when she swept him into a hug,
murmuring that they had much to discuss. Chanyeol agreed, though
regretted it had to be done in the presence of his father.

“Mr Kim,” Any distain his father may have had was masked by the
surprise in his voice, though his tone was quieter when his eyes landed
on his son, “Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol tipped his head in recognition, though chose not to address

his father with words. Sehun was right, he owed the man naught.

They ordered their drinks in an awkward silence, his father motioning

for the two younger to order their starters before doing the same for
himself and his wife. Chanyeol swallowed into the silence, endlessly
thankful when Minseok’s hand found its way to Chanyeol’s thigh
beneath the cover of the table.

“How did you find me?” Chanyeol asked after another beat of
uncomfortable silence.

“I asked Kyungsoo to look in to the situation a few months ago,” His

father answered, “I applaud his abilities.”

Chanyeol almost winced – his mother had fallen ill a few months ago.
“It was legal, then,” Chanyeol commented, taking a sip of his drink.

“Of course it was legal,” His father snapped.

“As legal as forced marriages?” He shot back.

Minseok merely watched, taking a drink from his own glass as

Chanyeol’s father visibly exhaled.

“We’re not here to argue,” His mom was the one to reply, “I
understand what we did was wrong, and I’m not asking you to forgive
me, Chanyeol. I just wanted to see you, again.”

Chanyeol noted the universal ‘I’, and not ‘we’.

“How are you?” He asked his mom, hating how clueless he felt.

“I’m okay,” She said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes,
“But, as these things tend to be, it is only downhill from here.”

He opted to ignore the questioning rise of Minseok’s eyebrow – he’d

neglected to inform the lawyer, somehow wanting to keep the situation
as minimal as possible.

“How have you been?” His mother returned.

“Good,” Chanyeol replied with an air of honesty, “Happier.”

He didn’t find satisfaction in the way his mom flinched slightly. He

hadn’t meant it bitingly, only as an honest statement.

“What are you doing, now?” His father asked, though gave no
indication as to what he was referring to.

“Work, mostly,” Chanyeol returned, voice attempting civility, “I’m in

the music industry.”

His father scoffed, “And you’re happy working for… what?

Inconsistent pay cheques?”
“Yes,” He answered, taking heed of Minseok’s advice of nonchalance.

“You could always return to law school,” His father amended, and
Chanyeol realised where this was going with a sigh, “You wouldn’t be
the only one to take a year or two from education. You were smart
enough, too.”

“And then, what? Work doing something I hate?”

“You’re our son,” His mom clarified, though she already looked tired
of the conversation, “There will always be an executive seat for you, if
you wished to take it.”

“Have you ever considered that I hate the industry because of the way
you shoved it down my throat?”

“Have you ever considered your mother’s health may be deteriorating

quicker due to the stress you imposed on us both?” His father asked,
and his mom turned to glare at him before he’d even finished his
sentence.

“Do not start this,” His mom started, clearly having heard it before.

“That’s not fair,” Chanyeol managed, though he was fighting to

maintain his calm, “I hadn’t wanted to leave, at first, but what choice
had I? You wanted me to marry some stranger for image.”

“Oh, please,” His father all but spat, “You’ve never liked hard work,
you’re lazy – you used that marriage as an excuse.”

Minseok laughed, causing Chanyeol to deflate as his father’s anger

only spiked.

They retorted back to silence as the waiter appeared with their food,
refilling their glasses without prompting. His mom stuck to water and
Chanyeol managed to give her a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you, mom,” He started, not even glancing to his father, “But, I
won’t be returning to law school.”
She smiled at him in understanding and that was enough for him.

“Are you… dating him?” His father questioned, glancing to Minseok

for a small moment.

“Polite as ever,” Minseok responded, his replies few and far between,
“Is that a problem?”

“Is this your childish way at getting back at us?” His father sneered,
ignoring Minseok.

“I wasn’t even aware who he was when-,”

But his father cut him off, irritated, “And to think we are the ones who
need forgiving.”

“You are,” Minseok remarked, an aura of neutrality surrounding him.

“Perhaps your mother is wrong, we couldn’t put a child in an exec

seat.”

“Somehow, I really don’t fucking care,” Chanyeol fumed, and

Minseok tightened his grip on his thigh in warning, “I don’t want
anything from you.”

“Even if he were to choose a route in law,” Minseok began, swirling

the ice in his glass for a moment before meeting Chanyeol’s father’s
eyes with a smile, “I would happily grant Chanyeol a place in my firm.
Our annual revenues have always been higher.”

Chanyeol suspected his father saw red in that moment.

“How dare you.”

“How dare I what, Mr Park?” Minseok inquired, placing his glass

down and holding the elder man’s glare, “I was invited to this lunch. I
may not be a guest, but I’m not willing to sit here silently and listen to
you insult the man I love.”
His father blanched. Chanyeol suspected he blanched too, his heartrate
tripling as he fought to keep his gaze on the table. Fake dating Kim
Minseok was a bad fucking idea, a really really bad fucking idea. He
swallowed, his anger dissipating a small amount as Minseok rubbed
his thumb in smoothing circles on Chanyeol’s leg.

He was so, so fucked.

The weeks in which they’d known each other was not enough to fall in
love, Chanyeol knew that, but hearing that word on Minseok’s tongue
directed at him of all people… Chanyeol didn’t even want to indulge
himself by thinking about it, he wanted to forget about it and move on,
to ignore the tightening of his chest each and every time he glanced at
the other man.

So, Chanyeol may have been remotely into his sugar daddy. Not just
sexually.

His mom considered him with a curious look as they ate, she wasn’t
the most accepting person considering his situation, but she wasn’t his
father.

Chanyeol hadn’t had an appetite all day, but now he just... felt sick.
And tired. He dropped a hand under the table to lace his fingers with
Minseok’s, squeezing the lawyer’s hand with fingers that trembled.
Despite his best efforts to feel otherwise, it was all too familiar – he
almost felt like a child again, the situation was bullshit but now he
didn’t have to put up with any of it.

“Maybe if you’d shown me the same love and effort you gave to your
work,” Chanyeol said into the silence, “I would be less of a mess.”

His mom winced.

Minseok didn’t hesitate to reply, shooting Chanyeol a sharp look, “You

are not a mess, Chanyeol.”
His father merely laughed bitterly, “Love? You think love is what paid
for your college tuition?”

“That is where you failed him,” Minseok stated, more stern than
Chanyeol had ever heard him, “It’s as simple as that, yet you fail to see
it. It has been a nice opportunity to meet you outside of the courtroom,
Mrs Park, though I cannot say the same for your husband.”

Chanyeol saw the tell-tale signs that his father was ready to explode,
but Minseok remained so calm that any reaction from his father would
cost him his pride. God forbid that.

“You too, Mr Kim,” His mom returned, her smile small as she stood to
hug Chanyeol, “I hope to see you again, soon.”

He nodded within his mom’s grip, “Call me if you… If you need

anything.”

“I will. Thank you for coming, both of you.”

Minseok nodded, before pulling out Chanyeol’s chair and aiding him
with his jacket.

Chanyeol managed to hold himself together until they were behind the
security of the elevator doors, before sagging against Minseok
uselessly. Minseok didn’t complain, wrapping an arm around his waist
as Chanyeol felt more than just physically exhausted. It was like
Minseok had known Chanyeol was mere seconds from snapping, his
body still tense as they exited the grand building.

“You knew I needed out,” Chanyeol said as they climbed into the car,
“Thank you, Minseok.”

“I told you, I’m observant,” Minseok responded, “Though you did grip
my hand rather hard.”

“Oh. Sorry.”
Minseok waved away his apology as Heechul started the engine, “Your
father is insufferable.”

“I’m aware,” Chanyeol retorted, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” Minseok started, “You didn’t owe them anything up there – you
didn’t even need to attend, but you did. Everything went fine.”

“I know.”

He supposed it was inevitable that everything he’d managed to force

away would find its way back to him in the form of brief memories. It
was hard to forget, the things he’d felt, the way he’d been so willing at
one point to roll over and hand over his life to a man who was
disgusted by him.

They didn’t speak again until Minseok walked him to his door.

“Minseok, I just… Thank you,” Chanyeol started, gnawing on his

bottom lip for a moment, “You didn’t have to stand up for me like that,
we aren’t… Um. I’m thankful, I mean it.”

Minseok hummed, straightening Chanyeol’s collar, “I know. In the

future, you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for something. You’re an idiot, but
you’re not stupid.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“You handled yourself well, back there,” Minseok continued, swiping

off dust from Chanyeol’s blazer that didn’t exist, “It takes a lot to do
something like that.”

Chanyeol nodded and the lawyer’s hand returned to his face for the
third time that day. He used his thumb to tug Chanyeol’s bottom lip out
of the grip of his teeth, smiling in a way Chanyeol hadn’t the slightest
idea how to interpret. Minseok didn’t kiss him, but he didn’t need to,
not with the look that he gave the younger – and of course Chanyeol
blushed, and Minseok chuckled, and Chanyeol felt his insides melt
regardless.

He remained stood there for a few further moments, staring after

Minseok with a pang of something akin to longing in his chest.

It had been an odd day.

“That was gay,” Baekhyun greeted when he finally let himself into the
apartment.

“Get out of my house, Byun Baekhyun.”

 Chapter 5

Productivity came to Chanyeol in random spurs of spurts of energy, he

could never plan it nor anticipate it – frequently, it was inconvenient,
for time often melted together and minutes became hours and
Chanyeol was once again unaware of the world around him. It was
easier for him to lose himself in his work when there were things in his
mind he would rather avoid, except, time was a very real, very
unavoidable thing and Chanyeol certainly did not have moments to
spare when he had a tux fitting with a rather demanding tailor in
fifteen minutes… and he was still dressed in the clothes he had slept
in.

In his defence, they’d moved apartments only the day prior and
Chanyeol had found little time to work on his music – which was far
more important now than before, considering he’d finally quit his low-
paying job at the local theatre and opted to begin building his portfolio
for commissions.

Chanyeol was happy, and if that happiness had roots trailing back to a
certain lawyer… well, he wouldn’t deny that things were good.

His previous decision to neglect time landed him in Baekhyun’s

passenger seat, brushing his teeth and hoping Kibum wouldn’t call him
out for looking an utter mess. The only downside to bribing Baek to
drive him was that Sehun also found it necessary to tag along – they
both apparently had reason to gawk at his stylist.

“I can’t believe that you, Park Chanyeol, of all people, are playing arm
candy for Kim fucking Minseok at a gala event,” Baekhyun
complained, his fingers drumming along the steering wheel, “There’s
gonna be people there worth more money than I will ever see in my
life.”
“You own two sports cars and you’re complaining about money,”
Sehun rolled his eyes from the backseat, “And anyway, I thought you
had eyes on Jongin’s dance company’s exec.”

“Those were a gift,” Baekhyun clarified, as though it made him seem

any poorer, “And Jongin’s tutor isn’t back from China until tomorrow
night. How am I supposed to woo a guy with a schedule like that?”

“A real tragedy,” Chanyeol replied, sinking back into his seat to glance
at Sehun in the mirror, “What about ‘Myeon?”

Sehun winced and Chanyeol expected nothing more – the younger

hadn’t been the happiest of grumps, as of late. The issue could have
been resolved, in Chanyeol’s opinion, if Sehun wasn’t so emotionally
stubborn and Junmyeon wasn’t such a gentleman, leaving Sehun to
give him space. Sehun didn’t want space, Sehun wanted Junmyeon.

“That sucks,” Baekhyun sighed, and Sehun breathed out in agreement.

The brief lapse of silence within the car was cut off by the standard
bell ringtone of Chanyeol’s phone, who winced as Kibum’s name
flashed up on his screen.

“Sorry, I’m running la-,”

“Yah, Park Chanyeol!” Chanyeol had to move the phone away from
his year as Kibum’s raised voice blared through the speaker, “Do you
think I have time to sit around and wait for your long-legged long-
bean ass to show up on goddamn time? Do you even know how fuckin’
HIGH in demand I am, you little-,” There was a pause, in which
someone interrupted in the background, “Yes, the teal, no, don’t
you dare touch that orange, god fucking help me I will fire you right
now, Lee Taemin.”

“So aggressive,” Chanyeol muttered, undoing his seatbelt as he opened

the car door, “I’m here, I’m here.”

His instincts told him to hang up before Kibum had time to respond.
Sehun and Baekhyun trailed after him, peeking curiously at everything
as Chanyeol took a deep breath and made his way over to where
Kibum was holding an ugly yellow material and telling off a younger
blonde as though he were a child.

“Um,” Chanyeol announced, nodding to himself when Kibum glared at

him and pointed at the changing room for Chanyeol to get changed.

The tux-fitting was fine, as expected, Kibum’s skills somehow

untouchable. The tux looked good, (“Of course it looks good, I’m not
an idiot,” Kibum had snapped and Sehun had snorted). In his opinion,
the tux looked like every other tux he’d ever seen or worn, except it
felt different – it felt like money, it fit perfectly like money and
Chanyeol didn’t even want to know how much (or why) Minseok was
paying for it. He really fucking looked like walking money and
Baekhyun only whooped when Kibum made a comment about
Chanyeol’s ‘long ass legs not being a total pain in the ass’.

Kibum was surprisingly fond of Baekhyun, the thought not settling

well within Chanyeol’s mind (because honestly, they both lacked brain
to mouth filters) as he dressed himself and checked his phone for the
time. A single text message littered his lockscreen.

[Mr Kim (mushroom emoji, skull emoji)]

> Did you like the tux? I heard from Kibum, but I’d much rather hear
from you.

Chanyeol hated the way his heart felt ten times lighter in response.

[sent]

surprisingly, im not a tux-wearing expert. you should listen to kibum <

it’s almost like he’s paid to give fashion advice <

[received]

> Of course. Perhaps I was just curious to see if you’d try to impress
me.

[sent]

maybe you should let me try impress you some other way <

[received]

> Tonight.

Chanyeol let out a low breath, glancing up to see Kibum showing

Baekhyun something on his tablet. He narrowed his eyes, before
looking back down to his phone.

[sent]

will i need spare clothes? <

[received]

> No. I prefer seeing you in mine.

He locked his phone, sliding it into his pocket before he joined the
others. So, perhaps his mouth had gone dry, all because of a damn text
message. If he hadn’t already felt in too deep, he was most certainly
beginning to feel it now.
The trio opted to spend the rest of their morning shopping – it was
Sehun’s opinion that they needed new furniture to complement their
new apartment and Chanyeol wasn’t about to complain. It was
different; he had money to spare, money to buy Baekhyun’s annoying
puppy eyes whatever shit he’d decided he needed when they were
window shopping. Sure, Baekhyun and Sehun had always had his back
where money was concerned, but it felt good to finally buy them
things too.

The best thing about it was the fact he didn’t feel remotely guilty about
where the money had come from.

Three days after the preferably-forgotten lunch with his parents, he’d
agreed to a distinctly more private lunch with his mom – as expected,
it had been awkward, but it hadn’t been tense and Chanyeol
appreciated that. He hadn’t wanted to lie, but it was expected that his
mother would have questions after Minseok’s ‘the man I love’
incident. The memory was slightly cringe-worthy, the look on his
father’s face less so. He’d happily live through the moment ten times
over just to watch the storm of expressions tear their way across his
father’s face.

Years of resentment stemmed from a deep grave full of awful

memories had that effect on a person.

Chanyeol was over it. Ish.

There was one question his mother had that she’d been most adamant
about – a question that had caused her guilt over the years and though
Chanyeol wasn’t sure he was able to forget the way she’d stood aside
and done nothing for most of his life, he was appreciative.

The question was simple: are you happy?

Chanyeol could answer more honestly than he’d ever done before:
Minseok made him happy.
His happiness wasn’t dependent on the lawyer, but it was undeniable
that he felt like he could just breathe when the other was around. A
part of him knew it was too late to go back, to turn a cold shoulder to
the pooling of butterflies swimming through his stomach when
Minseok gave him a smile he knew was reserved solely for him. He
knew it was too late to swallow the thought that he’d much rather live
in a world in which he got to wake up with Minseok’s arms curled
around him, the lawyer’s fingers tracing a pattern across his bare hip.

But even so, there was a selfish part of Chanyeol screaming at him to
take everything that was offered, because although it may not last
forever, it was lasting for the moment. For a moment. And Chanyeol
didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers. Not in the slightest.

It felt a little like walking across time-bombs.

Chanyeol had asked questions of his own. Asked about old friends,
about her health… If it was terminal. It was. The lunch had been nice,
despite the constant underlying heaviness of the atmosphere.

☽☾

He had known it was a bad idea the moment he’d stepped into the
elevator, palms sweating as other lawyers filed into the space with him.
Sure, the idea of bringing Minseok lunch had seemed like a good idea
an hour ago when his stomach was demanding food, but the air was
stifling.
Minseok was on the top floor, his personal office on the same floor as
the seniority of his firm. Chanyeol was already regretting the decision,
especially when the elevator doors slid open to reveal the top floor and
the silence flooded his ears.

Chanyeol remained the last one standing in the elevator, the other
employees stepping out at the lower floors. The fact that Minseok was
a partner of the firm was not helping him feel less intimidated.

The corridor in front of him was small, black carpets intimidatingly

dark akin to the clean white walls. Beyond the corridor, however, was
a collection of bullpens filled with the soft clatter of keyboards and the
occasional shuffle of papers. Most people were working in separate
rooms, cut off from Chanyeol via glass walls. So perhaps he felt a little
intimidated, the discomfort only growing as he reached a desk manned
by a singular secretary.

His hands tightened on the plastic bag containing Minseok's favourite

take-out jajangmyeon when the secretary glanced up. If there was any
issue, he'd just use the same lines he'd thrown around to security
downstairs…hi, I’m Park Chanyeol of Park International, I have a
private meeting with Mr Kim on some rather pressing matters. You
wouldn’t want to be responsible for delaying such an urgency, correct?

He would have made a good lawyer.

“I'm here to see Mr Kim,” Chanyeol said to the secretary who merely
quirked an eyebrow at him, “If you could notify him I’ve arrived, I'd
be thankful.”

The amusement remained as the man picked up a phone, muttering

into the receiver with a foreign accent as Chanyeol allowed his eyes to
roam across the walls and the plaques that decorated them.

Chen-Xi. No motto, no bullshit inspiring quote to follow, just basic

block letters and framed honours and achievements. Chanyeol
appreciated the change from his parent’s firm – appreciated the modest
minimalism.
“You’re free to go through,” The secretary announced, placing the
phone back down and returning to the screen as though Chanyeol had
automatically vanished.

Tapping his knuckles atop the clean cut wood of Minseok's office door,
Chanyeol stared at the plaque titled Xiumin until a ‘come in' prompted
him forward.

“I know you’re busy,” Chanyeol said before Minseok even had a

chance to open his mouth, “But you’re human and unfortunately that
means you also require regular sustenance, regardless of how-,”

Chanyeol paused, his eyes moving from Minseok to the taller man
leaning against Minseok's desk. Kim Jongdae, Chen, the other half of
Chen-Xi, smirked back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae greeted,

bowing slightly as he pushed himself to stand, “Don’t mind me, I was
just leaving.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, but stared up at Chanyeol with a little smile
regardless.

“Oh. I-did I interrupt something?” Chanyeol could feel his cheeks

reddening, “I could… I'll wait outside?”

“Nonsense!” Jongdae returned brightly, clapping Chanyeol light on the

shoulder as he walked past, “Not bad, Minnie, not bad.”

Chanyeol waited for the other to leave before grinning at Minseok,

“Minnie?”

“You misheard,” Minseok replied, before raising an eyebrow as his

eyes fell to the food, “Is that for me?”

All thoughts that Chanyeol had overstepped some invisible boundary

by bringing lunch were swept away as they ate, Chanyeol’s legs folded
beneath him on one of the sofas and his large sweater sleeves falling to
his fingers every time he reached forward with his chopsticks. The
repetition lasted for no more than thirty seconds before Minseok
sighed, pushing himself up from his desk. He crossed the office
sporting a deadpan expression that had Chanyeol almost squirming in
his seat.

The lawyer held his hand out and Chanyeol grinned, placing his own
in the elder’s for him to roll up the large sleeves.

“I’m starting to think you do these things to incite reaction,” Minseok

said, though he hadn’t let go of the brunette’s wrist.

“Is it working?” Chanyeol asked in reply, looking away as the heat

crept onto his face.

Minseok hummed, leaning forward and into Chanyeol’s space, “Look

at me?”

Chanyeol felt his blush deepen as he looked back at the older man – at
this proximity he could count the gold flecks in the other’s eyes, had
already compared the colour to fire and written words on the mess of a
notepad he kept a constant in his mind. And, of course, Minseok
smirked, his thumb across Chanyeol’s wrist as his heart thudded in his
ears and Chanyeol really fucking hoped the lawyer wouldn’t be able to
feel the skip of his pulse.

“Tell me, Park Chanyeol, do I affect you half as much as you do me?”

Surprisingly, those were not the words Chanyeol had the slightest idea
he’d be hearing. His mouth fell comically open as he stared up at the
lawyer, his eyes wide as his mind attempted to process the
question. Do I affect you? Oh, maybe only every night since they’d
met.

To answer the question, Chanyeol had no real words. He considered

something for a moment, an impulse to which he thought fuck it and
reached forward with the hand not in Minseok’s hold. He gripped the
front of Minseok’s (rather expensive) dress shirt, pulling him forward
and half onto himself as their lips met.

For the first time that Chanyeol could remember, Minseok let out a
sound of surprise as he was pulled against the younger.

Relief flooded Chanyeol alongside the adrenaline of his impulse

decision when he felt Minseok kiss him back, the hand from his wrist
was now on his neck as the lawyer straddled his lap, tongue pushing
into his mouth as his hands held the other man in place. Minseok
kissed him raw, kissed the breath from his lungs and Chanyeol was
beginning to remember how unfair it was for someone to hold this
much power over him.

His heart was still racing when they pulled apart, Minseok’s breathing
a little easier than his own but his lips just as swollen.

As if just remembering what he’d just done – in Minseok’s workplace,

of all places – he loosened his grip on the lawyer, embarrassment
flooding his chest less than regret.

“You can’t kiss me like that and then avoid looking at me, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol glanced back up at Minseok, his heartrate forgotten the

moment he locked eyes with the man he’d already sold his heart to.
Because that was exactly what he’d done, right? Sold his body, sold
his heart; perhaps he was overthinking, making it deeper than it had to
be, but what else could he do? Minseok occupied his mind for more of
his days than Chanyeol would ever admit to.

He knew he needed to detach himself from everything, to finally

fucking realise that whilst he thought the sun of Minseok, all he
happened to be in return was stress relief in the form of a technical
business arrangement. He partly hated himself for it, he’d been well
aware what he’d signed up to and yet he’d let himself get dragged
beneath the fine print anyway.

Fine print: sorry, no feelings allowed.

“You’re over-thinking,” Minseok whispered, his mouth at Chanyeol’s
ear and Chanyeol jumped, hadn’t even noticed the man moved
forward.

“I’m just thinking,” Chanyeol defended, frowning a little.

Minseok studied him for a moment, considering the younger before he

leaned forward to place a kiss on the centre of Chanyeol’s furrowed
eyebrows.

His heart might have soared.

He might have ignored it.

“Come home with me,” The lawyer decided, not moving from
Chanyeol’s lap until he nodded.

The journey to Minseok’s apartment felt more like a blur than a

memory, his mind wandering as his eyes followed buildings through
the window of the car and the ever-present weight of Minseok’s hand
on his thigh. The sun had already began to set and Chanyeol hadn’t
even realised how long he’d lingered around the firm. He could feel
Minseok watching him, as though his discreet glances would be able to
read Chanyeol’s mind.

“Did something happen?” Minseok asked once they were behind the
safety of the elevator doors.

Chanyeol glanced towards the other in surprise, “No? I’m fine.”

“There’s something on your mind,” Minseok answered more truthfully

for him, “I’m willing to listen, you already know that.”

I’ve somehow let myself feel things for you deeper than a contractual
obligation.

“I know,” Chanyeol said, “You don’t have to worry.”

And it makes me feel a little sick to my stomach when I think about the
fact you could drop me at any moment.

“Be kinder to yourself, kitten.”

Before Chanyeol even had time to ask himself how it was fair, he was
being pulled into an open hallway and pressed against a wall,
Minseok’s mouth on his own making him forget his own thoughts. It
felt a little like déjà vu, except this time there was more confidence
behind his own movements and far more intent behind Minseok’s.

He expected the thigh between his legs, the stutter of his own breath
and the overwhelming feeling of want – it didn’t make it any less
intense, his own hips bucking upwards as Minseok’s lips began a trail
down his neck. Minseok’s hands found their way beneath the hem of
Chanyeol’s sweater, tracing up the soft of his stomach and coming to a
rest on his chest.

It wasn’t until Chanyeol captured Minseok’s lips again that he felt

Minseok’s nails drag down his chest, at the same time he pushed his
hip against Chanyeol’s dick and he arched from the wall. He hadn’t
expected the sting of the scratches to go straight to his dick but he
could already feel himself straining hard in his pants.

“You’ve grown rather daring recently, kitten,” Minseok all but

breathed at his ear and Chanyeol’s legs felt a little weaker, especially
when the lawyers hand dipped into the waistband of his pants, “I let it
slide the first time, but I’m thinking perhaps you need a reminder.”

Minseok didn’t give him a chance to respond, instead wrapping his

hand around Chanyeol’s cock and turning Chanyeol’s answer into a
broken moan.

“Or maybe it’s that you want me to remind you,” Minseok hummed as
he started to stroke Chanyeol slowly, “Remind you how much you
prefer to be hard and begging beneath me.”
Chanyeol tried to swallow his moan and Minseok’s smirk grew. The
younger bit his lip instead of complaining when Minseok removed his
hand, allowing the lawyer to rid him of his sweater as he was pushed
down onto the sofa.

Minseok was in his lap again, the friction against his cock not enough
as he tried to control his hips from bucking upwards. At the feeling of
Minseok’s tongue against his nipple, he was unable to prevent his hips
from grinding up against the other – he heard Minseok tut, pushing
himself up to grind down a little harder on Chanyeol.

“I have a better idea,” Minseok muttered, before pulling Chanyeol on

top of himself.

Chanyeol blinked down at the lawyer in confusion, his hands on the

other’s shoulders keeping him balanced.

How could the man be laying beneath him yet hold so much control?

He leaned up to kiss Chanyeol, a little more breathless due to their

change in positions yet still leading their movements.

“Can I remove-,”

“No,” Minseok answered for him, smirking against his skin as he left a
trail down Chanyeol’s neck, “You are going to come in your pants –
and use my thigh to do it.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol let out, embarrassment evident in his blush.

Minseok chuckled, before laying down properly to look up at the

younger.

“What are you waiting for?”

And of course, Chanyeol was game – allowing Minseok’s leg to slip

between his own as he began to grind against the other man, sought
friction against the other man’s thigh as he watched, eyes intent on
catching every expression, every sound that left Chanyeol's mouth.
Minseok pulled Chanyeol flat against him, nipping at his lip to gain
entry to his mouth as his hands found purchase on Chanyeol’s ass. The
embarrassment from rutting against Minseok’s thigh felt minor
compared to the pleasure pooling in his groin and he groaned low into
the kiss, the pace of his hips against Minseok’s quickening as he
chased his own release.

“This is one of my favourite looks on you,” Minseok murmured

between kissing beneath the younger’s jaw, “Face flushed, lips swollen
and cock hard. All mine, princess.”

Chanyeol moaned in agreeance – he was already unsure how much

longer he’d be able to last, especially with Minseok’s hands on his ass
pulling him flush against the solid body beneath him, the pressure on
his cock increasing as he rutted against the lawyer’s thigh. His
breathing matched the pace of his hips as his head dipped down
between his shoulders.

A finger on his chin tilted his head back up and a chaste kiss was
placed on his tingling lips.

“Come for me, kitten, I know you want to.”

And Chanyeol did, hips stuttering against Minseok’s thigh as he came,

dirtying the inside of his underwear with Minseok’s name on his lips.
The other was still hard in his pants, though he made no effort to get
himself off as he slipped off Chanyeol’s pants and wiped him down
with the dirty clothing.

“What about you…?” Chanyeol trailed off as Minseok let out on airy
chuckle.

A hand was offered to him, “Oh, we’re not done yet.”

Minseok led him to the bedroom, disappearing for a moment after

telling Chanyeol to make himself comfortable. He returned with a few
items Chanyeol didn’t have a chance to see before the other man
climbed onto the bed with him.
“Do you remember your safe word?”

Chanyeol nodded.

“I need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“Mushroom,” He confirmed.

“Thank you,” Minseok cupped Chanyeol’s face, tilting his head

upwards to kiss him softly, “If even for a second you dislike what’s
happening, say so. I’m only good to continue if you are, okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol echoed, still feeling blissed out from his previous
orgasm.

“I’m going to tie your hands together, is that okay?”

Chanyeol nodded again, watching carefully as Minseok began to wind

a piece of black silk around his wrists. He then moved Chanyeol’s
hands above his head, linking the material through the headboard.

“Still okay?”

“I’m not gonna break,” Chanyeol replied, feeling a little warm inside,
“I have my safe word.”

The lawyer laughed quietly, giving the silk a test tug before sitting
back in satisfaction.

“I never imagined how good you’d look like this, kitten,” Minseok
said lowly, trailing one of his hands down to Chanyeol’s hip, “I wish
you could see how beautiful you looked.”

As intended, Chanyeol blushed - and was unable to hide said blush

with his hands, this time. The act of having his hands tied above his
head and his leg spread made him feel barer, more exposed than he’d
ever felt before. He half expected his chest to be red with the intensity
of his blush.
He watched as Minseok warmed lube between his hands, wincing
slightly as the first finger slid into him. Minseok remained at a slow
pace, which Chanyeol was thankful for – he was still sensitive from
having just came, his arousal at a minimum. It was when Minseok
began kissing the inside of his thighs, the skin there soft and sensitive,
that Chanyeol’s breath began to stutter. Minseok stretched him slowly
to three fingers, Chanyeol’s cock slowly starting to harden again as
Minseok left a purple mark on the inside of his thigh.

Minseok gave an experimental stroke over his prostate and Chanyeol’s

hips jumped upwards, his heightened sensitivity pulling the hiss from
his mouth. The lawyer seemed satisfied, placing a hand on Chanyeol’s
hip to hold him down as he repeated the action. This time, Chanyeol
cried out, back arching and whimpering when Minseok began to pump
his cock properly.

Chanyeol felt a lot less stable this time around, a lot less able to hold
himself back as Minseok pulled whimpers from him – Minseok
seemed to sense that Chanyeol couldn’t last as long this time and
Chanyeol’s hips jerked a little when something was rolled onto his
length. A cock ring.

He groaned, head dropping back to the mattress.

“Fuck.”

“Say that again,” Minseok’s voice was flat, but the warning heated
Chanyeol’s face.

The younger opted to bite his tongue.

Heat on the head of his cock was enough to surprise a groan from him,
but soon Minseok moved to fit more of Chanyeol into his mouth. His
hands were keeping Chanyeol’s hips against the bed, even as he
attempted to fuck upwards and into the heat that pulled whimpers from
his own mouth.

“Minseok, p-oh. Please.”

Minseok ignored him – Chanyeol cursed again when his cock hit the
back of Minseok’s throat. He wanted release, the pressure in his balls
building but nothing felt enough, not even the three fingers still
stretching him open. The fucking cock ring.

But then Minseok’s fingertips brushed his prostate again and Chanyeol
all but yelled, arms straining against the ties so hard his shoulders were
beginning to ache. Minseok swallowed him down once more and
Chanyeol cried out, he wanted nothing more than to come but he
fucking couldn’t.

“Minseok,” Chanyeol cried out, another broken plea leaving his lips
when a fourth finger was added.

It was when Minseok moved down to mouth at his balls that part of
Chanyeol felt ready to cry. The stretch burned and Minseok’s mouth
was causing his words to leave his mouth in a mess – when fingers
thrust into him at the right angle and Minseok thrust his head down to
deep throat him once more, Chanyeol’s hips thrust upwards and into
the air as he came with a cry that had him shuddering through it. The
pleasure was almost painful, his blood hot and his heart loud in his
ears as he whimpered loudly.

White hot pleasure coursed through his body as he shook with

adrenaline.

“You came dry,” Minseok realised, sounding impressed.

His cock was still hard. He wanted to cry.

“Take it off,” Chanyeol choked out, adding, “Please.”

“Not yet, kitten.”

Chanyeol hated the croak of his voice as he whined, “Minseok.”

Minseok looked up at him, running a hand through Chanyeol’s hair

softly, “Do you want to use your safe word?”
The fingers running through his hair were calming and the way
Minseok was looking down at him made it hard to differentiate
between his heart and his dick.

He shook his head, “No.”

“Are you sure?” Minseok questioned, massaging his scalp lightly, “It’s
okay if you do. We can stop.”

Chanyeol’s hips were still shaking from the stimulation, his cock still
hard – he wanted to see this through to the end, however stupid it
sounded.

“I’m okay,” He finalised.

“Okay,” Minseok replied, kissing him gently to give him a few

moments rest.

It wasn’t until Minseok was between his legs, cock pushing into him
that Chanyeol made any noise. The sensitivity was too much; he was
jittery and had to wrap his legs around Minseok’s waist to ground
himself. Minseok allowed him to, murmuring praises into Chanyeol’s
ear as he gave him time to adjust.

He was littering Chanyeol’s face with kisses when the younger gave
him the okay to move.

Only a few moments passed when Chanyeol was unsure that anything
leaving his mouth made sense – even more so when Minseok picked
up the pace, whispering how good Chanyeol was; how good he wanted
to make Chanyeol feel.

“Hold on just a little longer, kitten,” Minseok murmured, groaning as

he moved to thrust in deeper.

Chanyeol was unsure he could hold on a little longer.

He was also unsure when the tears left his eyes, but suddenly his
cheeks were wet and Minseok was hushing him with sweet words.
“Chanyeol, god, you’re so beautiful, you’re okay,” He whispered,
kissing Chanyeol’s cheeks despite the tears, “You’re almost there.”

It was overwhelming – the pleasure, the need for release, Minseok

hovering above him and looking down at him like he held the world,
the burst of white stars in his vision when Minseok freed him of the
cock ring and kissed him, swallowing his moans and tears as he
bucked up and came weakly between them. Minseok finished not long
after, though he continued to praise Chanyeol and kissed him softly
when he pulled out.

Minseok untied his wrists before pulling the younger towards himself
to hold.

“You did so well, I’m so proud of you,” He whispered as he rubbed

Chanyeol’s arms softly.

Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to reply, instead let himself submerge

within the heat of Minseok’s body as the other continued to hold him.
He whined when Minseok moved to clean him up, his fist weakly
grabbing the other’s wrist. Minseok didn’t move, instead moved them
into a more comfortable position on the bed as Chanyeol’s body finally
let him doze on the line of unconsciousness.

His previous decision to avoid sleep in favour of building his music

portfolio, alongside the exertion from their activities, and perhaps the
fact that the world was easier to ignore when Minseok’s fingers were
carding through his hair, meant Chanyeol fell into an easy slumber.

☽☾
Chanyeol supposed it was lucky last night happened the way it did –
today was the day of the charity event and Chanyeol’s nerves would
probably have kept him up all night regardless. He was aware that
there would most likely be people from his father’s firm at the event;
people he’d learned to forget and friends he’d left behind. There was
also the fact it was obvious people would be curious about him, he was
turning up on the arm of one of the country’s youngest, richest
mysteries – and people loved to gossip.

He didn’t care for people’s gossip; but he was worried Minseok might.
Chanyeol didn’t want to be responsible for damaging the older man’s
reputation.

Watching Minseok make breakfast felt far less worrying than the last
time.

“You know people will gossip, tonight,” Chanyeol said as he sat

himself down, Minseok’s shirt hanging loosely from his body after his
shower.

“Of course,” Minseok answered, glancing over his shoulder at the

younger with a smile, “And why wouldn’t they? You’re beautiful.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Chanyeol mumbled, playing with the hem
of the sleeves in slight embarrassment.

Minseok hummed thoughtfully, splitting their breakfast between two

plates, “People will talk, because they have nothing better to do. Will it
bother you?”

Chanyeol rose to prepare tea for them both, a habit he’d developed
over time in the large kitchen, “It’s never bothered me, I grew up with
people talking about every step I took. I was talking about you.”

“Me?” Minseok sounded surprised for the second time in twenty-four

hours, “There are a million other things I could care about than
everyone knowing you are mine. I’m looking rather forward to
showing you off.”
Biting his lip, Chanyeol focused on preparing the fruit tea Minseok
preferred – no sugar compared to the three cubes he added to his own.
It was true, he was Minseok’s, but not in the sense he so desperately
wished he was. Returning to the table with their tea, he tried to avoid
the curious look in Minseok’s eye as he took the seat opposite.

“Have you considered going back to school?”

Chanyeol looked up, frowning a little, “No. I dropped out because I

couldn’t afford to attend after cutting my parents off.”

“There are many prestigious music and arts colleges in this city,”
Minseok added, taking a sip of the tea, “You’re still young, Chanyeol.”

“I know, Baekhyun is an arts student,” He responded, feeling a little

put on the spot, “Scholarships are hard to come by when your father
owns one of the highest earning firms.”

“Then I’ll pay for it.”

“No,” Chanyeol didn’t even have to think about it, “That’s the kind of
money I can’t pay back.”

Minseok was watching him over the rim of the teacup, “I don’t care
about money, if that’s the only thing stopping you then consider it no
longer a problem.”

“No,” He repeated, feeling his heart swell without reason.

“The offer remains, kitten,” Minseok returned, turning his attention to

the food.

Being said lawyer’s date for a renowned annual charity event came
with its downsides. For example, being prodded in the face by a
narrow-eyed Kim Kibum who insisted Chanyeol would look far better
with a touch of makeup. Chanyeol didn’t care about the makeup,
Baekhyun was known to line his eyes in kohl before dragging him to
whichever club his friend had eyes on.
However, Kibum was far more precise and far fussier about what he
did to Chanyeol’s face.

Kibum had arrived already looking prepared for the event, his hair
styled out his face and his own eyeliner highlighting how sharp his
eyes could look.

He hadn’t anticipated how good Minseok could look – he’d already

assumed he’d seen it all, but, no; not when Minseok’s hair had been
pushed from his face and his suit as clean cut as his facial features.
Minseok was easily an intimidating man, the hard set of his jaw and
the width of his shoulders – that constant fire in his eyes, the dip of his
waist. Chanyeol had never felt luckier. He watched as Minseok fiddled
with his cufflinks – he didn’t even try to hide his blatant stare and
Minseok smirked in victory.

Before they left, Minseok handed him a black velvet box. It was
growing more and more evident Minseok enjoyed the colour black.

“What is this?” Chanyeol asked, peering at it curiously. A bracelet,

perhaps? Cufflinks?

“Perhaps you’d find out if you opened it.”

Opening the box revealed a small choker, seemingly minimalistic in

design. Chanyeol liked it – even more so when he realised the initials
KM were sown in red on the inside of the choker. It was a possessive
move, there was no question about it; the thought made Chanyeol’s
skin feel hotter, he’d be wearing it around so many people and no one
would have the slightest idea about himself and Minseok.

Minseok slid the choker from the box and Chanyeol turned, allowing
the older man to fasten the soft material around his neck.

“I asked Kibum to make it,” Minseok admitted, before placing a kiss

along the side of Chanyeol’s neck, “I wanted it to match your tux.”
“Thank you,” Chanyeol responded, shivering at the ghost of Minseok’s
breath on his neck, “I like it. A lot.”

“I thought you might,” Minseok confirmed, before slipping his hand

through Chanyeol’s and leading him out.

Even Heechul was dressed more formal than usual for the occasion,
the driver attiring black gloves as he opened the door for them both.

Chanyeol’s nerves remained, but the closer they grew the less small he
was beginning to feel. Minseok’s presence was assurance enough, the
lawyer wanted to show him off and so Chanyeol had no plans to
disappoint.

Although Heechul opened the door for his boss, Minseok opened the
door for Chanyeol and offered a hand to help him up. He could hear
the familiar flash of a camera and breathed in once, allowing Minseok
to pull him up and link their fingers properly. The lawyer led the way,
bowing his head in thanks to the doorman as he pulled Chanyeol into
the foyer. Minseok didn’t even need proof of ID when they reached
security and Chanyeol was starting to suspect he underestimated how
well known Minseok really was.

“Minnie!” A voice announced the moment they passed security and

Chanyeol recognised Jongdae pulling over his date, “Minseok, I do
believe you know each other. Chanyeol, this is-,”

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol answered for the other.

“Oh,” Jongdae let out in surprise, “You’ve met?”

“Chanyeol’s father’s company,” Minseok clarified for his friend,

giving Chanyeol’s hand a small squeeze.

“Oh,” Jongdae repeated, glancing from Kyungsoo to Chanyeol.

“Good evening, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo greeted, his dark eyes glancing

from Minseok to the taller, before he looked back to Jongdae, “If
you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fetch us drinks.”

Jongdae nodded and smiled – Chanyeol stared.

“Are you and he…” Chanyeol trailed off.

“Dating is probably too strong a word,” Jongdae informed, watching

Kyungsoo for a moment before he continued, “It’s hot when he wipes
the court floor with me. A real savage.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help the surprised laugh, “So, you’re a sadist.”

Jongdae grinned, before he motioned to Minseok, “You ought to see

your man in court, it’s like watching him conduct art.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, “Stop your date from arguing with Luhan,
you know that journalist is on our payroll.”

“Ah, true, Luhan always does aim to get a reaction,” Jongdae

responded, “I’ll catch up with you both later.”

Chanyeol waited for the other man to trail after his date before he said,
“I want to see you in court, now.”

“No,” Minseok replied, lifting two champagne flutes from a passing

waiter.

“What if I sued you,” Chanyeol teased, accepting the flute, “Then you
would have to, right?”

“Are you going to sue me?”

“Maybe.”

Minseok rolled his eyes again.

They spent the first quarter of an hour mingling, which usually

consisted of Minseok introducing Chanyeol and Chanyeol feigning
interest on work-related discussion – at least he hadn’t forgotten his
days at law school, the terminology came in useful when he needed to
impress a stranger’s automatic disapproval of him.

After the host for the evening finished his introductory lines, the small
group of classical musicians began their work for the night and
Chanyeol found himself watching curiously. He’d been taught to play
the violin from a young age – his mother could play, and he’d always
had an interest in music so he’d been enthusiastic from the start.
College would be nice to return to, but Minseok paying for it would
make him feel like a burden. Perhaps he could attempt to fund most of
it with the money Minseok was already giving him.

His eyes had somehow found their way to lawyer in question,

watching him converse with faces that rang with familiarity in
Chanyeol’s mind. Minseok was a good talker, charismatic with an air
of confidence that demanded attention. Merely watching him made
Chanyeol’s chest ache with unjustified emotion; he swallowed it down
with champagne, ignoring it for the nth time.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar face and Chanyeol’s

mouth broke into a grin as he was hugged by a face he’d missed.

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol greeted when they pulled apart, “I’ve missed

seeing you around.”

Junmyeon laughed, his bright smile causing his eyes to crease, “I’ve
missed being around, ‘Yeollie.”

Chanyeol ruffled his nose at the nickname Baekhyun had created for
him, “Yet you still spend too much time with Baekhyun.”

“Nonsense, he merely calls me every other night with a few choice

words about a certain someone.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol let out in a sigh, “I didn’t want to interfere.”

Junmyeon’s smile was smaller, “I’m grateful.”

“But,” Chanyeol started and it was Junmyeon’s turn to sigh, “Sehun is
stubborn and you’re too nice. You should talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to speak to me,” Junmyeon replied, quietly.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” He answered, hand reaching inside his suit

jacket pocket, “All Sehun has done is mope and run from his feelings.”

“I’m giving him space,” The older man countered.

“You are too nice for Sehun,” Chanyeol muttered, before finally
pulling out the key he was looking for, “Sehun’s probably gonna kill
me for this, but,” He placed the key in Junmyeon’s hand, “I won’t be
home tonight. He’s all yours.”

Junmyeon appeared conflicted, opening his hand to stare at the key, “I

shouldn’t.”

“Are you willing to let him go?” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow at his
friend.

“I don’t want to, but-,”

“That’s good enough for me,” He interrupted, grinning at the older

man, “You can tell him I sent you, tell him I forced you, I don’t care.”

Junmyeon let out a breath, before nodding, “Thank you, Chanyeol. I

appreciate it.”

“Please restock our freezer with ice cream,” Chanyeol decided, placing
his empty flute on a passing tray, “Or take him proper food.”

“Thank you for caring for him,” Junmyeon gave Chanyeol a small
smile, before glancing in the direction Chanyeol had been staring
before their conversation, “And you, too. It’s not healthy to run from
what you feel.”

Chanyeol laughed, a little bitterly, because, “What choice have I?”

He followed Junmyeon’s eyes over to where Minseok was speaking to
a small group – as if sensing another pair of eyes, Minseok glanced up
and gave Chanyeol a small, gentle smile.

Looking away, Chanyeol sighed.

“You’ll figure it out,” Junmyeon then nodded, clasping Chanyeol’s

shoulder lightly, “I have people to greet, but, thank you.”

Despite preferring to avoid the faces he knew, Chanyeol found himself

in conversations with people he’d never expected to see again – it was
good to know that people were going the places they aspired to go, and
most of them were still in school invited merely due to their law
internships. He avoided the questions about himself, admitting only
once he’d dropped out of law to pursue things he preferred. It was a
little intimidating to meet the people that would graduate without him.

“Park Chanyeol,” A voice began and Chanyeol felt the blood in his
chest turn cold.

He froze completely, turning to look up at one of the few people that

had always been taller than him.

“Yifan,” Chanyeol replied, hoping his voice sounded more confident

than he felt.

“I had not expected you, of all people, to attend tonight,” Yifan began,
glancing around them, “Are you here with a college friend?”

“No,” Chanyeol made himself answer, feeling his palms start to sweat,
“I was brought as a date.”

Year two of college, Wu Yifan, Chanyeol’s birthday date. The day that
marked the downfall of his relationship with his parents. His first
boyfriend.

“A date?” The taller man seemed surprised, “You’re seeing someone?”

“Yes,” An authoritative hand slid around his waist and Chanyeol
looked up in surprise, “He is.”

“Kim,” Yifan said in greeting, his tone displeased as he looked back to

Chanyeol, “How is school?”

Chanyeol wanted to sink into the ground, though Minseok’s arm

around his waist anchored him more than any amount of champagne
could have.

“I dropped out,” He admitted quietly, unconsciously raising a hand to

trace the hem of his choker.

“But you already knew that,” Minseok finished for him, his eyes
professionally blank as he stared at Yifan, “Working for them, news
travels fast.”

Them? Chanyeol’s nerves were replaced by confusion. Yifan was

working for his father? Even after all that had happened?

“You heard, then,” Yifan responded, eyes dropping down to the hand
on Chanyeol’s waist for no more than second, “How do you know the
leading partner of Chen-Xi, Chanyeol?”

A silent couple of seconds ticked by before Minseok answered, “A

mutual friend.”

“Still unable to talk for yourself, I see,” Yifan chose to ignore

Minseok, “Have you even changed since we dated?”

Dating Yifan had not been the worst experience of his life – at first. He
had been sweet and considerate, up until the point at which he sided
with his father and denied all long-time relations with Chanyeol. But,
he couldn’t blame Yifan for saving his own ass, especially considering
he was on the edge of graduating and would most likely be applying to
work for the top law firms.

It hadn’t made it hurt any less, surprisingly.

“You work for my father?” Chanyeol realised out-loud, before letting
out a humourless laugh when he remembered Yifan had wanted to
work for Chen-Xi, “You couldn’t achieve the best, but I suppose
second best isn’t an awful position to be in.”

Yifan’s eyes widened, because, yes, Chanyeol was not the same silent
pushover he’d been in law school.

Minseok didn’t even try to hide his satisfied grin, “It was nice catching
up with you, Wu.”

The taller man chose not to spare them a glance as he stalked away and
Chanyeol let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Thank you, I think.”

“You were handling that just fine on your own,” Minseok stated,
allowing his hand to linger for a few more seconds on Chanyeol’s
waist, “Though I do imagine it would’ve been far more exciting if I’d
just kissed you then and there.”

The night continued on a smoother path and Chanyeol was just glad
his father had never been one to attend public events – he placed
himself above such things, usually.

He noticed Junmyeon slip out early, returning Minseok’s question in

the form of a raised eyebrow with an innocent raise of his own
eyebrows. Minseok kept Chanyeol close to his waist, even as
conversations ranged from public relations to more private business
matters. Not that Chanyeol cared much for the shuffling of the house
of business cards, but he did find some enjoyment in watching
Minseok change people’s minds and orchestrate conversations without
the other party being remotely aware.

It wasn’t until Chanyeol slipped away for a bathroom break that

Minseok caught him alone in the bathroom, uncaring that anyone
could walk through the open door and catch the two men sharing a
private kiss. But, before things had time to progress from remotely
innocent, Chanyeol’s phone rang in his pocket and he frowned, half
expecting it to be Sehun ready to give him an earful about Junmyeon.

It was an unknown number, giving Chanyeol no choice but to answer.

Minseok watched him curiously as he answered, straightening himself
out before he dusted Chanyeol off, too.

When Chanyeol hung up, he felt numb.

“Is something wrong?” Minseok asked, concern evident between his

eyebrows.

Chanyeol swallowed, pocketing his phone quietly, “My mom was

taken to hospital.”

“I’ll drive you-,”

“No,” He interrupted, not wanting to increase the weight on his chest

that already told him he was an inconvenience, “Stay with your firm,
most people are here for you anyway.”

Minseok’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, “Chanyeol…”

“I’m an adult,” Chanyeol said, unsure if it was to himself or Minseok.

“Believe me,” Minseok started, his tone soft, “I’m aware.”

“You helped me enough the last time,” Chanyeol returned, rubbing a

hand over his face before he headed towards the door, “I want to deal
with things… on my own.”

It was brief, and if Chanyeol had been in a better mind, a mind less full
of worry for his mom and confusion concerning the other man, he
would have noticed the flash of hurt in otherwise blank eyes. But,
Chanyeol didn’t notice, and Minseok instead reached to catch his wrist
before he left.

“If not me, then at least let my driver take you.”

Pausing for a second, Chanyeol gave the man a thankful smile,
“Okay.”

“And,” Minseok let go of his wrist, though his eyes still searched the
youngers face, “Tell me when you need picked up.”

Chanyeol nodded.

Heechul was mostly silent on the journey to the hospital – Chanyeol

wasn’t even certain of the time, only that the roads were emptier and
the sky dark. The call had been from the hospital, apparently his mom
had listed him as an emergency contact on their system. The doctor
had told him it would be best if he made his way quickly and Chanyeol
hated that he was completely clueless as to what had happened.

“Mr Park?” The doctor questioned when Chanyeol had found the
appropriate ward.

“Please, call me Chanyeol,” He returned, because there was nothing

else he knew to say.

“Chanyeol,” The doctor affirmed, “You are aware of your mother’s

condition, correct?”

He nodded.

“Relapses are common, especially in cases such as this, most major

illnesses see steps back whenever progression is made,” The doctor
explained, and Chanyeol nodded again, “She’s a little beaten and
bruised, I believe the relapse happened when she was climbing the
stairs. Your father is at work and we haven’t been able to contact him.”

“Is she… okay?” He asked, though thee question felt dumb, “Is she
awake?”

“We managed to wake her not long ago, but I suspect she’s in a lot of
pain, mainly from the treatment.”

“The treatment?”
“Anti-cancer drugs are rarely pleasant, Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol nodded again, because honestly, what use was he? He
should’ve done something useful with his life – should’ve become a
doctor, or a lawyer, or joined the military. But what was he doing
instead? Self-employed music work and sleeping with a firm partner
who he’d already crossed too many lines with emotionally.

He tried to shut his mind up when he pushed open the door to her
hospital room.

It almost winded him to see his mother like this, looking pale beneath
her hospital gown with too many drips littering her bedside. He really
fucking wished he hadn’t been such a disappointment, maybe then he
would have been home with her; could have prevented her fall.

“Chanyeol,” She breathed out, looking up at him in surprise, “You

came.”

“Of course I came,” He leaned down to plant a kiss on her head, too
scared that hugging her would cause discomfort, “How are you
feeling?”

The tubes travelling up her nose to help her breathe were worrying him
a huge amount.

“I’m feeling fine,” His mom answered. Before coughing for a few
moments.

He wasn’t convinced.

“I hope they didn’t bother your father with this.”

“Mom,” Chanyeol frowned, reaching to the bedside to hold her hand,

“You’re not an inconvenience. I’m glad they called me.”

She looked blatantly at his tux and his undone bowtie, “You were
having a nice night, you should have stayed.”
“Stop, it doesn’t matter what I was doing. It was just some charity
event, anyway.”

“Did Minseok take you?” She questioned, though she already knew the
answer.

“Yeah, he asked me to go with him.”

“He must be serious about you, then.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol bit the inside of his cheek, “No, he just had no-one
else to take on such short notice, probably.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” She squeezed his hand, “He was
serious enough to turn up to a lunch with your father and I, knowing
full well who your father is.”

“Probably did it to spite him?”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” His mom chuckled, “You must be
serious about it, if you’re running from it.”

He frowned, “I’m not running from it.”

“Love isn’t a bad thing, Chanyeol,” Her tone had turned more serious,
“I don’t regret much in my life, ‘Yeol, but I do regret letting you go
like that. You’re the best thing to happen to me.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Chanyeol tried to brush it off, giving his mom

a small smile, “I could’ve been a better son.”

“No, I could’ve been a better mother.”

She was as stubborn as Sehun, Chanyeol silently decided. He kept

careful watch, unsure if he was supposed to report anything to the
doctor – like how she kept coughing until she couldn’t breathe, and
how she was too weak to push herself up on the bed, and how she
hadn’t noticed the cut on her hand was bleeding. Chanyeol was aching
in a different way, his heart hurt to watch her like this.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, talking about nothing and
everything with his mom, answering her questions no matter how
childish the answers would make him sound (yes, he still ate children’s
cereal). They talked about Sehun and Baekhyun (and avoided
Minseok), he talked about his work and told him the dumb stories
about himself and his best friends.

His mom chastised him for leaving Baekhyun at the gas station.

Eventually, she fell asleep, and Chanyeol didn’t want to leave – he

continued to talk to her, continued to hold her hand as he finished off
the story of how they invited Baekhyun to live with them in their new
apartment and Baekhyun had cried, so unfamiliar with permanency.

Chanyeol didn’t find sleep, he merely watched until one of the nurses
came in to excuse him. He picked up his tux jacket, folding it over his
arm and slipping from the room. He had a missed call from Minseok
he opted to ignore.

As he was leaving the ward, he bumped into his father.

“What are you doing here?” His father’s tone was accusatory and
Chanyeol was far too tired to deal with such shit.

“Someone had to stay with her,” Chanyeol returned the accusatory

tone.

“Some of us have real work to do, but you wouldn’t know what that’s
like, would you?”

“It’s like nothing gets through your thick fucking skull,” He muttered,
not meaning for his father to hear it but not regretting it slightly, even
when his father pinned him against the wall.

Mr Park raised his voice, uncaring for the fact they stood in a hospital,
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“I said,” Chanyeol repeated, his words slow, “It’s like nothing gets
through your thick fucking skull.”

He wasn’t afraid of his father, but he probably shouldn’t have

provoked the older man, either.

The fist to his face was probably, slightly, a little bit of an over-
reaction.

A mixture of the exhaustion, both physically and mentally, as well as

the blow to his face, meant he just slid down the wall as his father
stalked off through the ward. He raised a hand to his face, groaning
only when he saw the blood painting his fingers.

One of the late-night nurses had rushed over to him, already armed
with a tissue to press against his nose and ensuring it wasn’t broken –
he waved her away in thanks, keeping the tissue against his nose as he
pushed past the door and into the cold night air.

He shivered, but it felt good. Refreshing.

The phone in his pocket rang again; it was Minseok. He let it ring. It
was after 5am, the man should be asleep.

He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to speak, instead hailing a cab

and pulling on his tux jacket to hide the splatters of blood on the front
of his dress shirt.
 Chapter 6

See, Chanyeol had no real reason for not wanting Minseok to pick him
up from the hospital – the issue lay within the fact that yes, Chanyeol
did want the lawyer to pick him up, Chanyeol did want Minseok’s ever
patient presence aside his own silence. He felt like he had something to
prove to himself, to prove that he didn’t need Minseok and reinstate
his previously spoken words that he wasn’t a child. It was an excuse,
he knew it, yet used it endlessly.

His back was aching from the hours he’d spent curled up on the rigid
bedside chair, his shoulders ached from exhaustion, his head was
aching from the punch he’d received and he was fucking tired. He
wanted to sleep for a while, perhaps wake up someplace no-one knew
his face nor his name. Somewhere that was not here, his mind tied
with knots he had no energy to thread his fingers through.

It was a dissociating feeling – it came sidled with wanting to

disappear, the way he had when everything had gone up in flames with
his parents. Sure, it was running from his issues, from the mess of
tangled springs that came with his family and the knowledge he wasn’t
good enough; he wouldn’t be graduating, he had no real job.

And Kim Minseok. He wanted a man he had no right to want.

Chanyeol knew he couldn’t run – not from his mom, not like this. Not
again.

The taxi came to a stop just as the sun began to peak above the horizon
and Chanyeol bowed his head in thanks, his voice unused for so long
he had no desire to speak. He had no reason for coming here – to
Baekhyun’s – but he had often found himself standing outside his
friend’s apartment when the world was beginning to spin a little too
fast. He hadn’t found reason to seek refuge here in some time; he
supposed he should take advantage whilst he could, before Baek
inevitably moved in with them.

Looking at his phone to find it was 5am, he hoped Baekhyun wouldn’t

be too pissed off to open the door. Maybe he should’ve called ahead,
but he’d turned his phone onto airplane mode in the car to stop further
incoming calls.

When the door finally opened, Chanyeol looked up in mild surprise to

see a sleepy looking (and shirtless) stranger. They stared at each other
in silence and Chanyeol considered for an odd second that he’d ended
up at the wrong apartment.

Baekhyun’s head appeared up over the man’s shoulder, rubbing sleep

from his eyes, “Chanyeol? It’s like, not even anywhere near your usual
Saturday morning wake up time.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol all but croaked out, trying to look remotely less
pitiful.

“Is that-,” Baekhyun’s eyes then widened as he pushed past the

shirtless stranger, “Is that blood?”

Chanyeol looked down as Baekhyun wrenched his suit jacket open,

worry clouding his face when he looked back up at Chanyeol’s face to
see the beginnings of blackened eyes.

“Nose injuries always look worse than they are,” He muttered, much to
Baekhyun’s chagrin as he pulled his taller friend into his apartment and
towards the bathroom.

“Were you in a fight?” The stranger asked. Under the bathroom light,
his face seemed remotely familiar.

“Do I know you?” Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed in thought.

Baekhyun began to properly clean the blood from his face, “Who did
this to you?”
He fell silent, averting his eyes. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to
talk about it.

“Chanyeol.”

“My father,” Chanyeol admitted, before sighing and taking the cloth
from Baekhyun to clean himself, “There’s not much else to say. Can
we talk about something else?”

“I’m Yixing,” The stranger introduced, offering a small, dimpled

smile.

“Oh,” He let out in reply, before turning to Baekhyun, “Wow, you

work fast.”

Baekhyun punched his arm with more force than necessary before
leaving to find him a shirt to change into. Yixing left to make hot
cocoa and Chanyeol figured he wasn’t so bad for a dance company
exec – he recalled briefly seeing the man when they’d all claimed front
row to Jongin’s first solo dance performance.

“You couldn’t have called first, huh?” Baekhyun said when he

returned, handing Chanyeol a shirt.

“I turned my phone off,” It was half the truth, Chanyeol reasoned with
himself.

It wasn’t until they were all sitting on Baekhyun’s sofa, Chanyeol

cradling the hot mug in his hands, that Chanyeol divulged how his
night had gone from an upend charity event to cramped hospital chairs
and a punch from his father. Baekhyun knew Chanyeol wasn’t telling
him the whole story, but his friend didn’t push for answers until they
were alone.

“I should probably get going,” Yixing announced a little after 6am.

Chanyeol bit his lip, “I’m sorry for… intruding.”

“It couldn’t be helped, I hope things begin to look up for you,” Yixing
was sincere and Chanyeol appreciated it. The dancer then reached
down to Baekhyun’s face, tilting his head up to press their mouths
together, “I will see you again, right?”

“Definitely,” Baekhyun grinned as he looked up and Chanyeol swore

he saw stars in his best friend’s eyes.

After the dancer left, Baekhyun crawled over to Chanyeol on the sofa
and brought with him a fluffy blanket. The television made for good
background noise as he let Baekhyun hug him – it was just the kind of
person Baek was, he seemed to recharge his energy by interacting
through excessive skinship. Chanyeol didn’t mind, he’d grown to love
his friend and appreciate the comfort provided.

“Admitting faults doesn’t make you an inconvenience.”

“I know,” Chanyeol replied, frowning.

Baekhyun held up his phone, the screen lit up with a specified number
of missed calls from Minseok, “Do you?”

“He has more important matters to focus on,” He returned, taking his
phone to clear the notifications from the screen.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” Chanyeol sighed, covering his face with the blanket, “I like
him.”

“I mean, yeah,” Baekhyun looked at him obviously, “I’m not blind.”

“No,” He removed the blanket, staring at Baekhyun in seriousness, “I

like him a lot, Baekhyun.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t made for this,” Chanyeol continued, closing his eyes to sink
into the heat of the sofa, “I think I need to change occupations.”
“You’re so dramatic,” Baekhyun replied, reaching for the remote to
turn the television off, “I know that… whatever you’re feeling is
weird.”

“Scary,” Chanyeol corrected.

“I can’t believe you’re eight years old.”

“Why are we friends?”

“Because I’m great,” Baekhyun then continued, “Whatever, touchy-

feely conversations can be left until tomorrow. You need to sleep.”

Chanyeol yawned, “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar, now sleep,” Baekhyun finalised, shuffling slightly to get

more comfortable, “The world will still be here tomorrow.”

☽☾

Chanyeol awoke to a low throbbing in his head and a blackened eye –

a side effect of having his nose punched. The bruising wasn’t bad, just
visible; he remembered receiving black eyes one time he rolled over in
bed and hit his nose on the wall. The swelling would go down in a few
days, Chanyeol hoped, staring at Baekhyun’s ceiling from his position
on the sofa.

“Are you feeling less whiney today?”

Glaring at his friend, Chanyeol pushed himself up to sit and rubbed his
face with tired hands.

“I apologise,” Baekhyun continued, sitting next to him, “How are you

feeling?”
“I’m fine, thank you for the ramen.”

“I knew your dad was a total jackass but he manages to surprise me

every time.”

He chewed for a moment, “I did provoke him.”

“It doesn’t matter, we should invite Jongin and take turns kicking his
ass.”

“Speaking of Jongin,” Chanyeol began, “How was your night with

Yixing?”

Baekhyun smiled instantly at the mention of the dancer’s name, “Let’s

just say I already anticipate seeing him again. Are you going to speak
to Minseok today?”

Chanyeol glanced at his phone, the reminder filling him with a feeling
of dread.

During the drive back to the new apartment, Baekhyun found time to
complain about how long it would take to move his stuff in with the
duo; it was empty rambling but Chanyeol appreciated the lack of
questions, or as Baekhyun was involved, the lack of interrogation. It
gave him time to collect his thoughts, to watch the familiar buildings
race by through the window as he tried to think about anything but
Minseok.

The fact that he’d slept in until after midday left his body clock out of
tune with the world, his movements groggy – even in the shower, as he
tried to wake himself up and leave the story telling of last night’s
events to Baekhyun. He dressed slowly to avoid touching his face as
he pulled on a sweater, his damp hair dripping moisture at the tips.

Walking into their new living room, Chanyeol gave a surprised smile
when he noticed Junmyeon sitting aside Sehun – so Junmyeon had
taken his advice from the night prior, at least. He froze when he
realised who was sitting on their other sofa.
Sehun offered Chanyeol a smile as he stood up, “We’re going out. Call
me if you need me.”

Baekhyun waved his goodbye as he followed the two out and

Chanyeol still hadn’t moved from the spot where their hallway met the
living room. He didn’t want to look at Minseok, he didn’t want to feel
everything that always came rushing to the surface whenever he
merely looked in the lawyer’s general direction.

“Chanyeol,” Minseok stood up and Chanyeol could hear the concern

even as he refused to look at the other man, “What happened to your
face?”

He’d meant to cover the small bruises with makeup. He’d forgotten.

“A small mishap with my father last night.”

He chose to walk the long way to the kitchen, avoiding Minseok as he

moved to open the fridge. The fridge was fuller than he remembered it
being – Junmyeon really had bought them groceries. He loved
Junmyeon, bless his soul.

“Did he do this to you?”

Pulling out a bottle of water, Chanyeol replied, “I’m tired, can we talk
about this some other time?”

“Some other time?” Minseok retorted as Chanyeol turned to face him,

“You haven’t answered my calls, when were you planning on ‘some
other time’?”

“Why do you care?” Chanyeol shot back, taking a sip of the water, “I
thought you had work today.”

His words were unreasonable and he was aware, yet he couldn’t stop
the bite from leaving his mouth as he averted his gaze to the plastic in
his hands. Maybe if he pushed the lawyer away, just an arms-length,
maybe then he’d find it easier to breathe, maybe then their
arrangement would lessen the emotional baggage pulling Chanyeol’s
shoulders down.

Minseok frowned, stepping closer to Chanyeol, “I finished early. What

is this really about?”

Chanyeol moved himself behind the counter island in the kitchen,

using it as a barrier between them both as the other man’s frown
deepened, “Then why are you here? You have better things to do.”

“Where did you go last night?” Minseok asked, instead of retaliating,

“I told you to tell me when you needed picked up.”

“And I told you I’m not a child, I can handle things on my own,”
Chanyeol had raised his voice and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I’m not treating you like a child, Chanyeol, I’m treating you like
someone I care about.”

Chanyeol’s grip on the bottle tightened, his heart tightened, “I’d like
you to leave, I think I need some time on my own.”

His heart almost screamed what are you doing loud enough for them
both to hear it.

At that, Minseok leaned against the counter and ran a hand through his
hair, “Where did you go last night, instead?”

“I went to Baekhyun’s. You don’t own me or my life outside of the

bedroom, Minseok. I already said I’d like you to leave.”

Minseok’s jaw clenched and Chanyeol tried not to watch the way the
muscle jumped, “Can you not see I was worried about you? I wanted
to know you were okay, but you wouldn’t even answer your fucking
phone. I was concerned, because I care, Chanyeol. Here I am, yet you
won’t even look at me.”

It was like holding a firework, watching the fire travel down the fuse
and towards the gunpowder excited to burn him.
He could see the lawyer was frustrated without even looking him in
the eye. So, perhaps the man did care about Chanyeol – but, it was
easy to care about someone when you spent enough time with them.
Or had enough sex with them. Chanyeol let out a bitter laugh, looking
up to meet Minseok’s eyes for the first time. The regret was instant,
Chanyeol’s heart thudding harder in his chest as he stared the man who
owned his heart in the eye.

Chanyeol supposed he should get it out of the way. Return to a normal

life – or at least, a non-emotional, purely physical business relationship
with Minseok.

“I thought you said you didn’t have time for stringed commitment.”

It was like he saw the built composure in Minseok’s eyes snap.

“You’re right,” Minseok pushed himself up from the island,

straightening his cuff as his face fell back to the coldness Chanyeol
hated, “I don’t.”

And it was what Chanyeol had wanted to hear, so why did it feel like a
knuckle-dusted punch to his chest? Still, he nodded, let the sting sink
to his skin as he left his bottle neglected atop the counter. They’d
established on the first night that this wasn’t a deal for attachment,
with Minseok’s lack of time for stringed commitment and Chanyeol’s
own lack of appeal in permanency.

So, why was permanency so appealing when that permanency was

Minseok?

“Show yourself out, Minseok,” His voice was quiet, his heart winded.

The lawyer’s eyes had widened, “Chanyeol, I didn’t-,”

Perhaps it was the long night, the long week, his father, the knowledge
this was always going to happen from the moment he felt butterflies
dance in his stomach, but it took every piece of energy Chanyeol had
left to swallow down the way he wanted to just crumble.
“Please leave.”

Minseok heaved out a sigh, hesitating where he stood. There were a

million things that could’ve been said in that moment, a million
reasons to claim that Chanyeol was just being dramatic or
unreasonable because he was tired or delusional, but the lawyer
remained silent, eventually turning to see himself out the apartment.

Chanyeol had thought this would lessen the weight on his shoulders,
make it easier to breathe, but the air in the kitchen merely suffocated
him.

☽☾

His mother hadn’t shown any signs of improvement when he visited

her later that day. The doctor didn’t say she was doing particularly
worse, but Chanyeol could see the pity in the doctor’s eyes, the lack of
confidence when he said he’d seen people recover from worse stages
of similar illnesses. Her body was exhausted and Chanyeol had been
told it was unlikely for her to wake up during Chanyeol’s visiting hour.
He stayed regardless.

If he ignored the sterile white sheets and beeps of machines, he could

almost pretend his mom was asleep. Almost. He could pinpoint the
moment her chest shuddered on each exhale, the struggle to continue
pulling air into her lungs and the occasional wheeze. He’d missed
years he could’ve spent beside her.

It wasn’t completely his fault, he knew. His father played a role in that
too.

Maybe that thought was partially to blame for his own lack of patience
the next time he saw the man.
“You should stay away from here, she’ll recover quicker without you.”

Chanyeol looked up from washing his hands in the sink to meet his
father’s eyes in the mirror.

“Did you follow me in here?” He reached for a paper towel, drying his
hands slowly to avoid looking up.

“Stay away from here, Chanyeol.”

“She’s my fucking mom,” Chanyeol snapped, throwing the paper in

the bin a little more aggressively than necessary.

“You’ve hardly acted like a son.”

He turned, rolling his eyes, “And you’ve hardly acted like a father, Mr.
Park. Now, excuse me, I have places to be.”

His father was stood between him and the door and Chanyeol was
beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic within the tiled room without
windows.

“Places to be?” His father snorted, “What, playing pet to Kim? Has he
not replaced you already?”

Chanyeol felt his fists clench at his sides, “God, don’t you have
anything fucking better to do?”

“He has, hasn’t he?” His father then let out a laugh, “Did he find
someone better?”

“What, you mean the way mom found someone better when she called
me from the hospital, and not you?”

His father had always been physical and hot-headed, so really,

Chanyeol was expecting the second fist to his face in as many days.
Except, when pain exploded across his face again, he didn’t see red, he
saw white, felt white-hot anger pulse through his veins as he pushed
himself up and slammed a complementary fist back into his father’s
face.

Pain flared up in his fist as he remembered, distractedly, oh, oops, you

weren’t supposed to punch like that. Before he even had the time to
hope he hadn’t broken anything, his father slammed his back into the
hard tile of the bathroom wall.

Chanyeol wheezed, trying to keep air in his lungs as hands closed

around his throat and his eyes widened in shock – he raised his knee in
defence, smashing it into his father’s groin and pushing the man away
from him as he reached for the bathroom door. Hands were on him
again and Chanyeol didn’t even think before slamming his elbow into
Mr Park’s face, hearing a grotesque crunch followed by a literal snarl.

Before he was in the clear, feet tripped him up and he stumbled, falling
into the hospital corridor as his father stumbled after him and they
scuffled – eventually, Chanyeol managed to roll them until he
remained on top, straddling Mr Park’s stomach as blood dripped from
both of their faces.

He doesn’t remember much after that. Security hauling him to his feet,
pulling him away from Mr Park who yelled and pointed a finger in
Chanyeol’s direction, a deep throbbing through his jaw and a bust lip
dripping blood down his chin. A quick check up, nothing broken, Mr
Park accusing him of assault, a security room – police.

Chanyeol laughing, humourlessly, when he remembered Mr Park was

the largest shareholder of the hospital. So, of course, he was arrested.
The fight occurred in the bathroom, no cameras, and Chanyeol was
then pulled from on top of Mr Park; it looked bad, from an out-side
perspective. He’d allowed himself to be provoked, allowed himself to
fight back, allowed Mr Park to drag him into this loophole. Chanyeol
remained without regret, for once in his life. Fuck him.

As per rules and regulations, he was given a phone call. He called

Sehun.
“I might’ve fucked up,” He started the moment Sehun answered.

“Chanyeol? What the fuck did you do? Whose phone number is this?”

“Um,” Chanyeol looked across the desk at the police officer watching
him carefully, “I was arrested?”

A sigh, “Jesus Christ. I’m coming.”

“Don’t bring Baekhyun, he’ll freak out when he sees my face.”

“Your face? What the fuck did you-.”

Chanyeol hung up, handing the phone over to the officer and allowing
himself to be led into the waiting cells. He knew his father was pulling
strings to have him arrested, that much was obvious, he just hoped his
father wasn’t going to do his absolute worst. Sure, it was borderline
corporate corruption, but he’d known for a long time his father had
money in places a normal law firm partner shouldn’t.

Sehun arrived in record time, Chanyeol could already hear his snarky
comments as the officer opened the door to the holding cells. Chanyeol
was situated within a waiting cell, one that drunkards tended to be kept
in overnight when acting disorderly. He cringed the moment Sehun
saw his face and let out a literal screech.

“What the fuck-”

“You have five minutes,” The officer told Sehun, leaning against the
door with his arms crossed.

Sehun scowled, spinning on his feet to give the officer a piece of his
mind.

“Sehun,” Chanyeol sighed, moving closer to the bars so he could talk

to his best friend, “We don’t have much time. What did they say to
you?”
His best friend deflated, “Nothing, just that you attacked some guy at
the hospital.”

Chanyeol snorted, “My father.”

“I guessed as much,” Sehun replied, the scowl permanent on his face,

“This is so fucking stupid. Public disorder, I’d understand, but why
wasn’t that scumbag arrested too?”

“He’s a respected figurehead of the hospital,” Chanyeol concluded,

leaning against the bars.

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” Sehun retorted, “If it was
me, I would’ve fucking punch-”

“Three minutes,” The officer interrupted in warning.

“I think my father is just trying to scare me,” Chanyeol informed with

a sigh, “Show off how much power he still has over me.”

“That’s bullshit!” Sehun repeated, looking close to kicking the bars

between them, “What about bail?”

“They didn’t say anything.”

It was visibly obvious when Sehun’s patience ended as he spun on his

feet to argue with the officer.

“Are you charging him?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss-”

“Shut up,” Sehun interrupted and the officer scowled, “You can’t just
keep him-”

“Sehun,” Chanyeol tried.

“If you don’t take a step back, Mr Oh, I’m going to arrest you.”
“Save it, idiot, if you don’t let him-”

“Are you threatening me, Mr Oh?”

“Sehun,” Chanyeol repeated.

“It’s more than a threat you fucking-”

“You have the right to remain silent…”

Chanyeol groaned, letting his head fall against the bars as Sehun was
pulled from the holding cell area.

He waited, knowing Sehun hadn’t done anything particularly too bad,

just that the officer had a pride too large to let it slip. And perhaps the
fact Sehun had been in the officer’s face, pointing his finger. Chanyeol
just sighed, watching as the same officer dragged Sehun back into the
holding cells and pushed him into the empty one.

“No conversing with each other,” The officer started, pointing at them
both before leaving.

Sehun waited three seconds.

“They weren’t gonna let me stay with you,” Sehun informed,

shrugging, “I called Junmyeon, we’ll be fine.”

His friend was right. It wasn’t long before Chanyeol was being led into
an interview room, uncuffed and waiting. He was pissed off, rightfully
so, this kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen under just law. Sure,
public disorder would make sense, because, yes, they were fighting in
a goddamn hospital – but, he hadn’t thrown the first punch and it sure
as hell wasn’t the assault Mr Park was claiming.

So, why the fuck was he waiting on a lawyer?

Junmyeon appeared mildly amused as he entered the room, up until his

eyes landed on Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol smiled, and then winced,
when he remembered his scabbing bust lip.
“Are you okay?” Junmyeon asked first and Chanyeol was partially
touched.

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol lied, ready for the entire year to be over, “Did
you deal with Sehun?”

“Yes, he’s an idiot,” Junmyeon answered, fondly.

“Gross,” He managed in reply.

“What happened?” Sehun’s lawyer boyfriend eventually asked.

Chanyeol relayed the events as he remembered them, mentioning the

first punch from Mr Park a day prior and their meeting in the
bathroom. Junmyeon nodded, asking little questions where appropriate
and eventually abandoning his notepad when he realised he wouldn’t
even need to try hard to build a defence.

“Sehun’s told me bits and pieces about your relationship with your
parents,” Junmyeon admitted, playing idly with his pen, “I’m sorry
you have to deal with this. You deserve so much better.”

He wanted to cry, a little.

“Thank you.”

“As for today,” Junmyeon then sighed, “It’s clear from your face that
this wasn’t a one-sided fight. I can get you out within the hour.”

“Thank you,” Chanyeol repeated, unsure of what else to say.

“It’s likely Mr Park will claim self-defence and, as you said, there are
no cameras within the restroom to prove either of you right. I see no
logical reason but him to pursue this, but…”

“It’s me, so he will,” Chanyeol finished for him, feeling a little sick to
his stomach.
“I’m sorry, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sounded sincere, “I’ll represent you,
if that’s what you want.”

Chanyeol nodded, looking down at his hands. They were still bloody.
He glanced away.

“You know, if he pursues this and he fails – you’ll have an even better
case for charges against him, if that’s something you’re willing to
consider,” Junmyeon continued, “I’m not just talking about this, but
the past. Everything he’s put you through, and I mean everything,
Chanyeol.”

Swallowing, Chanyeol took a moment to think about his mom, about

her health, and he shook his head, “I just want this to be over and done
with. Then I never want to see him again.”

“I understand,” Junmyeon then nodded, standing up, “I’ll see you

soon, okay?”

“Thank you, ‘Myeon.”

“Out of curiosity,” Sehun’s maybe-boyfriend paused at the door, “Why

didn’t you call him?”

Chanyeol’s eyes jumped up at the mention of Minseok, staring at

Junmyeon for a few seconds before he answered, “Our last
conversation wasn’t the greatest.”

Junmyeon tilted his head for a moment, considering, “He’s not as blasé
as he appears to be, but you know that. Maybe next time, then.”

Frowning, Chanyeol watched the other man leave.

☽☾
It was inevitable that Chanyeol found himself at the hospital again.
Even if such a decision was reckless, considering that his current
situation may lead to a real fucking court case in which it’s him against
his father. Sehun was right; it was bullshit. But, Chanyeol was
exhausted, he was fucking done with his recent fate.

He’d left the station alongside Sehun and Junmyeon, the two rather
nondescript about the fact Sehun had literally gotten himself arrested
for the hell of it. Sehun had given him a hug and a look that said
something like don’t do something dumb you dummy and Junmyeon
merely gave him a small smile. Chanyeol appreciated them both.

He did.

He just needed some time alone – to see if there had been any update
on his mom.

Except, when Chanyeol reached the room he was more than certain his
mother was previously situated within, the bed was empty and his
mom was gone. He checked the floor level again, the door number,
even checked a few neighbouring rooms. She was gone.

“Um,” Chanyeol announced his presence at the nurse’s desk, “Has Mrs
Park been moved rooms?”

The nurse glanced up, frowning at the cut on his lip and the dark bruise
on his jaw before typing a few commands into her computer, “Can I
ask your name?”

“Park Chanyeol – I’m her son.”

“Oh,” The nurse replied, reading the computer screen before saying,
“I’m sorry, it appears as though she’s been discharged.”

“Discharged?” Chanyeol asked, rather incredulously, “She wasn’t even

awake when I left here earlier today.”
“It’s late,” The nurse returned, looking pointedly at the clock, “Maybe
you should go home, too, Mr Park.”

Chanyeol scowled at the name, turning on his heel and back towards
the elevators. It was after 10pm, he shouldn’t even be in the hospital at
such a time, he supposed; but he was an emergency contact, he had
every right to be here. As he was leaving the ward, he spotted the
doctor he’d talked to previously and made a last-minute fuck it
decision as he pulled the doctor aside.

“Did you discharge Mrs Park?” He said in one breath.

The doctor frowned, before realisation dawned on his face and he

sighed, “I did not. Your father had her moved onto your home
residence with a private doctor. That’s all I can tell you, I have to go.”

Chanyeol thanked the doctor, a lump in his throat as the doctor hurried
off to where he needed to be. His mom had been moved back to her
home – to his parent’s home. An entire city away.

A place he wouldn’t be granted access to for the duration of the

bullshit trial his father was putting forward.

He felt sick, his blood not sitting right in his veins as he heaved in the
cold night air. It felt like his lungs refused to take it in, his breathing
quickening as he sat down on a bench outside the hospital. He
wouldn’t be able to see his mom and his father was taking him to
fucking court. Not only that, but his own father had literally tried to
beat the shit out of him.

The cold did feel good against his aching face, though it felt like fire in
his lungs and Chanyeol sunk bank onto the bench in defeat.

The family home held memories Chanyeol would rather never meet
again and him setting foot there would surely hand his ass an entire
team of legal issues.
His father was really trying to take everything from him. He felt sick
again.

Pulling out his phone, he forced his eyes to close against the sting of
tears.

“Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol didn’t even remember pressing call, nor searching for this
specific name.

“Pick me up,” He hated how small his voice sounded, “Please,

Minseok.”

“Where are you? I’m on my way.”

He held the phone against his ear as he waited, his muscles tense –
they grew even tenser when Minseok’s personal car pulled up against
the curb and the lawyer climbed out of the driver’s seat. He remained
tense, even as Minseok took the phone from his hand and pulled him
to his feet – even as Minseok used a finger to tilt his face into the light,
tutting at the homage of bruises painting his face.

Minseok opened the passenger door to the car and Chanyeol muttered
a barely audible thank you, sliding into the seat and urging away the
feeling of wanting to curl in on himself and disappear.

Neither of them spoke until Minseok pulled out of the parking lot.

“Am I taking you home?” Minseok asked, glancing at the younger for
just a moment.

Chanyeol shook his head. He didn’t want to go home; he wanted to

stay with Minseok and he hated himself for it.

“It’s cold out and you’re not even wearing a jacket,” Minseok
chastised, though there was a playful tilt to his tone, “I bought hot
chocolate.”
The younger glanced down, spotting the two Starbucks cups in the
drinks holder. Chanyeol was beginning to feel warmer inside without
the aid of hot chocolate – it wasn’t fair that Minseok had this impact
on him. Minseok’s cup held coffee, he could smell it over the scent of
his own hot chocolate.

Sliding off his shoes, Chanyeol pulled his knees to his chin atop the
leather seat and stared out the window. They were on an empty
motorway leading to neither of their homes and Chanyeol frowned,
though he said nothing, watching the remnants of clouds disappear as
they passed over the moon. It was a shame the city lights hid the stars
from the night sky.

The world remained moving fast and Chanyeol just wanted a pause to
breathe.

They lapped into a semi-comfortable silence, a surprisingly nice feat

considering their last conversation. With only the hum of the engine
between them, Chanyeol felt himself sink deeper into the seat as they
continued to drive – they drove until Chanyeol’s tense shoulders
started to unwind, the knots undoing themselves as he allowed his
mind to deflate and eventually, his shoulders sagged and he stared
down at his legs.

He felt ridiculous – immature, childish. Everything he’d tried not to

be. It felt even more ridiculous when Chanyeol realised he missed the
weight of Minseok’s hand on his thigh; missed a slither of the physical
relationship they’d shared and they hadn’t even been in the car for
long. It was like a craving, under his skin, a demand his mind didn’t
want to answer.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said, eventually.

Minseok looked across at him, the inside of the car illuminated only by
the lights on the dashboard, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got smashed in the face,” Chanyeol admitted, his tongue

tracing the scab now on his bottom lip, “Did you speak to Junmyeon,
today?”

“I did,” Minseok confirmed and Chanyeol didn’t miss the way his
hand tightened on the steering wheel. There was a beat of silence,
before he continued, “You could have called me.”

Chanyeol’s heart hurt.

“I know,” He eventually replied, looking back out the window.

“Let me represent you,” Minseok said, startling Chanyeol, “I don’t

doubt Junmyeon’s capability, but I’m more confident in my own.”

Something remained unsaid, yet Chanyeol was unsure what.

“No,” Chanyeol answered, his eyes wide, “You’re Xiumin, I’m not
letting you represent me pro-bono on a fake assault case.”

“So, why allow Junmyeon?” Minseok fired back, his eyes scarily
focused on the road ahead, “What is he that I am not?”

“Minseok,” Chanyeol said, voice small, “You know that’s not what I
meant.”

“Do you not trust me?”

Chanyeol was frowning, now, “I trust you.”

“You didn’t even tell me your mother was sick, Chanyeol,” And for a
split second, Minseok appeared more vulnerable than Chanyeol had
ever seen him.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol placed his chin atop his knees, “I just wanted-.”

“To deal with things on your own, I know,” Minseok finished for him,
“I wouldn’t think any less of you for confiding in me, I want you to
confide in me.”

He took a small breath before replying, “If you’re sure.”

When Minseok glanced over at him again, Chanyeol was struck by
how unfair it was… again.

The way Minseok looked at him wasn’t fair, because he looked at

Chanyeol like he was the most important thing in the world – he
always had, his sharp eyes igniting the butterflies lining the younger’s
stomach like he knew he was doing it. Chanyeol wasn’t supposed to
fall in love, not now, not with Minseok. That wasn’t supposed to
happen.

It didn’t take long to figure out where they were going; somewhere
they could see the expanse of the city from above, somewhere he and
Sehun had once disappeared to as kids. It felt different, this time.

Minseok parked at the highest allowed point for cars and they both
opened their doors, Chanyeol shivering at the welcoming night breeze
that curled around him. Minseok didn’t give the breeze long, wrapping
his own jacket around Chanyeol’s shoulders and slipping his hand into
Chanyeol’s, tugging him further up the trail.

Chanyeol followed easily, his eyes on Minseok despite the array of

nature around them. They stopped where the railing stopped and
Minseok said nothing, allowing them both to breathe in the air free
from the pollution of the city. In the distance, Chanyeol could still see
the nightlights of the city, the odd pair of headlights and the neon signs
of life.

His eyes fell to a close, his breathing smoothing out as he tried to

forget the mess of a day he’d left behind.

Minseok’s hand was still warm within his own.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Chanyeol asked, failing to keep the
guilt out of his voice at the late time.

The lawyer hummed, the lights of the city dancing in his eyes, “Allow
me to represent you.”
Chanyeol shook his head, almost pleading, “No, he already knows that
we… Well, he thinks that we’re… You know. He’ll use that. He’ll
target you. I won’t allow that.”

Minseok hummed, “Have I mentioned that I find you endearing?”

“It may have come up before,” Chanyeol answered, his cheeks aflame
with blush.

Using their entwined fingers, Minseok tugged him down, caught

Chanyeol’s lips with his own and Chanyeol gasped in surprise.
Minseok kissed him, kissed him until the blush on his face deepened
and Chanyeol’s fingers were grasping the lawyer’s shoulders in an
attempt to merely ground himself. Minseok was kissing him and it
wasn’t fair; it wasn’t fair that any man could do this with such little
emotional attachment.

Was this how Sehun felt?

Minseok kissed him until he was drowning, moaning, his heart

hesitating with each beat.

Yet when Minseok tugged Chanyeol back towards the car, Chanyeol
allowed him to, allowed himself to be pushed up against the metal
exterior, until his fingers trembled from where they gripped the
material of the lawyer’s shirt, until his heart coaxed fire up his veins
and he doubted the need for Minseok’s jacket.

Chanyeol stopped, hands pushing at Minseok’s chest until they could

both breathe. Minseok stared up at him and Chanyeol swallowed, his
insides melting away with the seconds.

Minseok began kissing lightly across the bruise on his jaw, nosing just
beneath his ear when he whispered, “I am terribly fond of you, Park
Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol hated the way his heart thrummed, heat swelling in his
stomach for reasons other than arousal – because it had taken
Chanyeol this long to realise that of course Minseok didn’t express
things the way everyone else did. Of course Minseok didn’t express
love the way everyone else did.

Chanyeol didn’t allow himself that freedom of thought, pushing at

Minseok’s chest again until they were face to face, their foreheads
touching as they breathed in each other.

“Minseok,” Chanyeol’s voice was hardly above a whisper, “You…?”

“I never had time for stringed commitment,” Minseok’s eyes were

wide, akin to a deer caught.

“I know,” Chanyeol replied; he’d been telling himself that from the
start.

“Then, what is this?” Minseok asked, his voice quiet, “If I don’t have
time for stringed commitment, what have I been doing with you all this
time?”

Chanyeol’s pulse was thudding in his ears as he leaned back against

the car, “I don’t know.”

The lawyer stared at him, his eyes serious but not uncertain, “I care
about you more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Minseok…” Chanyeol let out, the name almost a whine on his lips as
he froze where he stood.

But, then Minseok’s lips are on his own again and he didn’t have to
think, didn’t have to frustrate himself thinking about the endless
possibilities of what that could mean. It took a small amount of effort
to open the backdoor of the car, Minseok pushing Chanyeol across the
leather upholstery to climb in on top of him.

Minseok’s thigh slid between Chanyeol’s legs as his tongue slid into
Chanyeol’s mouth, the younger groaning and wrapping his arms
around Minseok. Chanyeol all but grinded against the lawyer’s thigh,
growing hard in his pants as Minseok wasted no time in ridding them
both of their shirts.

Chanyeol did not hesitate in running his hands up Minseok’s torso,

moaning at the pleasure on Minseok’s face when his hands found
hardened nipples. Sitting up, Chanyeol leaned against the closed car
door as Minseok straddled his lap, grinding down until Chanyeol was
whimpering where he trailed kisses across the other’s chest.

“Please tell me you have lube,” Chanyeol groaned out when Minseok’s
fingers threaded through his hair.

“I don’t, fuck,” Minseok’s voice was deeper, quieter, and he kissed

Chanyeol one last time before asking, “Do you trust me?”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate, “I trust you.”

Minseok pressed his lips briefly to Chanyeol’s forehead before he

shuffled backwards and Chanyeol took a second to accept the fact that
car sex was not, in fact, comfortable or easy. Sliding his pants and
underwear off at once, Minseok kneaded small circles into Chanyeol’s
thigh and asked him to sit back as he placed his face between
Chanyeol’s legs.

At the first press of Minseok’s tongue against his rim, he gasped and
allowed one of his hands to grip the top of the leather seat, legs falling
open as much as the back seat allowed them to. Minseok pressed in a
little harder, pushing his tongue past the tight muscle as Chanyeol
whimpered, his resolve falling apart by the second.

The sound was almost grotesque, Minseok over-compensating in

saliva as he slid a finger alongside his tongue – it went straight to
Chanyeol’s dick, his back arching against the car door as he vaguely
prayed that no-one chose this night for late sightseeing.

Minseok took his time, working him open with one finger and his
tongue until he was happy that a second finger wouldn’t hurt too
much.
“Fuck,” Chanyeol hissed, his jaw clenching at the burn of the stretch
and the pleasure that Minseok’s tongue brought.

Finding a rhythm, Minseok continued to pump two fingers into

Chanyeol until the younger begged him to add a third, begged
Minseok to fill him and make him feel good. Minseok groaned in
reply, taking a second to shush Chanyeol because we have to be
careful, kitten, I don’t want to hurt you.

Chanyeol was hard and leaking against his stomach, his arm aching
from how hard he gripped the leather seat as Minseok slid a third
finger into him.

“Please,” Chanyeol let out in a sob, “Minseok, god, I don’t care, please
fuck me.”

Minseok groaned again, his grip on Chanyeol’s thigh tightening as he

continued to work him open, his saliva stretching Chanyeol open until
he melted into a whimpering mess, writhing atop the leather seating.
He continued until Chanyeol stopped him with a hand in his hair,
whining about coming too soon.

“Are you sure, kitten?” He waited for Chanyeol’s nod before he sat
back, sliding off his own pants and pulling Chanyeol to straddle him.
Holding his hand up to Chanyeol’s mouth, the lawyer smirked, “Spit.”

Chanyeol blushed as he complied, allowing his saliva to drop onto

Minseok’s hand and watching as Minseok used it to slick up his own
cock. He groaned, gripping Minseok’s shoulder harder as the lawyer
positioned his hips correctly.

Sinking down slowly, Chanyeol felt winded, the stretch gripping his
insides as Minseok’s grip on his hips helped him. It took him longer
than he would’ve liked to bottom out, sitting in Minseok’s lap and
breathing heavy into the crook of Minseok’s neck.

Minseok rubbed a hand up his back soothingly, “You’re okay, kitten,

you’re fine. I’ve got you.”
It took some time for Chanyeol to adjust, until his breathing evened
out and he felt confident that Minseok wasn’t about to split him in half.
He moved slowly, Minseok’s grip ensuring Chanyeol wouldn’t move
too fast before he was ready. Rolling his hips, he gasped against
Minseok’s neck and allowed his teeth to bite lightly, enjoying
Minseok’s own gasp.

With time, he began to roll his hips quicker, Minseok whispering

praises into his ear as his lips sucked light marks into Minseok’s soft
skin. A whine left his throat when Minseok thrust up softly and he
took the hint, lifting himself up and keening when Minseok’s cock hit
him just right.

The burn faded into the background as he began to properly ride the
other, his hands looping around the back of Minseok’s neck as he
arched and bared his own. Minseok took advantage, bruising his own
marks into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck as he drove up into the
younger – Chanyeol cried out as Minseok found what he was looking
for, his thrusts growing less soft as the younger’s moans grew louder.

Chanyeol clenched around Minseok as he dropped himself down,

bouncing on the other’s lap until he drew a particularly loud groan
from the lawyer. His victory was short lived, as Minseok soon gripped
his hips and began to properly thrust up and into Chanyeol, who
whimpered and tried to find Minseok’s mouth with his own.

Minseok chuckled before kissing him properly, the action offset by the
rhythm of their thrusts but Chanyeol didn’t care, kissing everywhere
he could reach as he moved his hips faster, slammed down harder until
his thighs were burning in exertion.

“Please, Minseok,” He whimpered, unsure what he was asking for.

“So perfect, kitten,” Minseok murmured back, his breathing haggard

and uneven, “Are you going to come for me, hm?”

Chanyeol sobbed out a confirmation, his hips jolting forward when

Minseok slammed into his prostate. He was practically rutting against
the older man, begging until he felt like he couldn’t hold anymore –
and then holding on longer, his grip on Minseok tightening as
everything from his day felt irrelevant, until the only thing that
mattered was Minseok inside him; Minseok holding him, kissing him,
marking Chanyeol up as his.

“Minseok,” He moaned, his head buried in the crook of Minseok’s

neck.

“Come for me, Chanyeol,” Minseok’s voice rumbled through his chest.

Chanyeol gasped, clenching around Minseok tightly as he released

between them, making a mess of their chests and riding out his orgasm
until he was whining, kissing along Minseok’s neck and telling him
how perfect he felt. Minseok’s grip on his hips tightened, bruising, as
he buried himself deep into Chanyeol and came, filling the other with a
low groan that joined the quiet of the car.

Not wanting to move, Chanyeol stayed where he was, Minseok buried

deep within him and the both of them panting to regain their breath.
Chanyeol planted kisses all over the lawyer, up his jaw and across his
mouth, until Minseok laughed and grabbed Chanyeol’s face to kiss him
properly.

He felt like he was floating, Minseok’s arms wrapped tightly around

them and a fucking mess between them.

Luckily enough, Minseok carried tissues and cleaned them both up; he
pulled out of Chanyeol with an apologetic glance, kissing the wince
from Chanyeol’s face and retrieving a spare shirt he kept in the boot of
the car for the younger. Except, when he reached the seat, Chanyeol
was already wearing his worn shirt and sliding into his boxers with a
small smirk.

Minseok rolled his eyes, pulling on the clean shirt for himself before
climbing back into the car.
They sat together, quietly, Chanyeol’s head in Minseok’s clothed lap
with the lawyer’s fingers trailing through his hair.

Chanyeol stared up at him, licking along the cut on his lip and thankful
it hadn’t split during their activities. He could’ve fallen asleep, were it
not for all the things left unsaid between them pushing through his
mind. It took him a few moments to realise Minseok was staring back
down at him.

“Hi,” Chanyeol greeted.

“Good evening,” Minseok returned his antiques, “Shall we get you

home?”

The thought of returning home to an empty bed was not a pleasant one.

“To your home,” Chanyeol clarified, earning a raised eyebrow from

Minseok.

“I’m working tomorrow.”

“Take me with you,” He returned, almost shamelessly.

“Let me represent you against your father,” Minseok shot back.

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, watching the other stare back in

seriousness.

“It could get messy,” Chanyeol tried.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And you’re okay with that?” He asked, uncertain, “He’ll come for
you, Minseok. Because of me.”

Minseok chuckled, the sound almost inaudible as he leaned down to

kiss Chanyeol, “I’d love to see him try.”
Chanyeol kissed him back, holding on a little longer. Things might just
be okay.
 Chapter 7

It was not that the world had slowed to paint a better picture, Chanyeol
merely assumed it was harder to entertain negativity when Minseok’s
arm was curled across his chest and his leg was thrown across
Chanyeol’s own. In another world, perhaps, he would feel trapped,
pinned down and unable to move, locked shut by obligations and
technicalities – except, Chanyeol didn’t want to move, he didn’t want
Minseok to wake up, just yet. He didn’t want to forget the unfurling of
warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with Minseok’s own body
heat, and everything to do with how peaceful Minseok looked, his
cheek pressed against Chanyeol’s shoulder in slumber.

When Minseok eventually stirred, his eyes blinked blearily up at

Chanyeol in soft tiredness. Chanyeol’s momentary lapse of guilt for
being the reason behind Minseok’s exhaustion dissipated the moment
the lawyer smiled up at him, stretching his arms above his head though
his head remained atop Chanyeol’s stomach. He yawned, and
Chanyeol stared – Chanyeol was caught staring and the elder cocked
an eyebrow at him.

Chanyeol didn’t need to be told, this time; it felt simpler, leaning down
to kiss Minseok softly and ignoring their morning breath. The
implications behind such a kiss had more depth, yet Chanyeol felt
himself reluctant to remind the elder of their conversation from the
night prior.

“Good morning,” Minseok murmured, raising his hand to trail fingers

through Chanyeol’s hair.

“Hi,” Chanyeol replied softly, before Minseok pulled him up and

towards the bathroom.
The morning moved quicker than Chanyeol’s preference, Minseok
pulling him beneath the spray of the shower and practically shoving
some healthy mix of vegetables into his mouth as Heechul alerted
them of his arrival in the downstairs parking lot. So, what if Chanyeol
chose to avoid thinking deeper about the endearing smile Minseok
kept sending his way? It was still different, for Chanyeol felt less like
shit and more like a prepubescent unable to keep his heart in check.

He knew they had yet to discuss the night before, but Chanyeol wasn’t
feeling… negative, less one-sided and no longer standing on the edge
of some cliché bottomless abyss with rejection at its centre. No,
Chanyeol was content, content in the way the lawyer kept finding
ways to entwine their fingers, content in the way the elder would use
his thumb to remove the spot of toothpaste on Chanyeol’s lip – linking
their hands in public, even as Heechul mumbled about naïve
honeymoon phases and kids.

The Chen-Xi building felt far less daunting with Minseok mere steps
ahead, the expensive architecture not as domineering and security
barely giving him a second glance as they advanced into the firm’s
headquarters.

“I should speak to Junmyeon,” Chanyeol began once they reached the

correct floor, “Inform him that I took his advice.”

“His advice?” Minseok cocked an eyebrow.

“Yup,” He replied, “Just words between friends.”

Minseok almost rolled his eyes, murmuring a thanks to the secretary

who handed him a cup of coffee, “I may require Junmyeon for the
legal team I am putting together, do tell him that, too.”

Chanyeol nodded, the words legal team rolling over in his head
because holy shit this was serious – his fucking father was taking him
to court and Minseok would be representing him. It hardly felt real;
and it stung, his father had already done so much, was it possible he
truly did hate his own son? Ignoring that thought, Chanyeol opted to
focus on the idea that he was so much more than his father’s son. After
this, he was done – he had his mom, and his friends, and Minseok, no-
one more.

Junmyeon was somehow bright as sunshine despite the early hour,

though he did inform Chanyeol, with a slight frown, that Park
International would be putting forth the case for assault. Chanyeol had
suspected as much.

“I would also be honoured to participate on the team for this case,”

Junmyeon finished with a nod.

Chanyeol snorted, “Junmyeon, I’ve known you for like a year. I’m
well aware what your fake-ass business persona looks like.”

“Or,” Junmyeon deadpanned, “I could kick you out my office.”

“I’m going. But, thank you, ‘Myeon.”

“Not at all, just have Zitao draft me and I’ll be there.”

“Um,” Chanyeol froze, turning to face Junmyeon from his position at

the door, “Zitao as in… Huang Zitao?”

“The one and only,” Junmyeon confirmed with an amused smile, “You
didn’t know he was Minseok’s secretary?”

Chanyeol shook his head, “I never met him, before… well, before
here.”

“How do you think I met Sehun?” Junmyeon asked and Chanyeol felt
a slither of recognition, “Anyway, like I said, just ask Tao to draft me
before I’m needed.”

He should’ve realised – the year before, Sehun was introduced to

Junmyeon through a mutual friend (Zitao) already in that business.
He’d heard in passing of the other man, predominantly through Sehun
and Baekhyun, though they’d never met. Chanyeol had suspected the
secretary’s accent to be foreign, at least he’d been right about that.
It was odd to see Minseok under such professional circumstances,
though the man did seem to carry a constant air of propriety – this was
different, Chanyeol could feel the way everyone in the room looked
towards Minseok with blatant respect, not one person questioning
anything that left his mouth. It was even odder that Chanyeol was a
part of this room, sat at this table, a table full of potential candidates
for a legal team supporting him.

“Do we suspect Mr Park will represent himself?” Seulgi, the

associative intern, asked.

“Perhaps a member of his senior team,” A senior associate Chanyeol

had yet to learn the name of suggested, “I heard talk of a recent
promotion.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to glance back to Minseok, though the

lawyer remained silent.

“Wu Yifan,” Seulgi confirmed and Chanyeol had to hold back his own
wince, “Potentially Do Kyungsoo, we haven’t heard much.”

There were a few groans from the rest of the table.

“Is it really significant as to who will be representing Mr Park?”

Minseok asked and Chanyeol suspected he was not looking for an
answer.

“Nope,” Luhan announced as he entered the room, a dossier in one

hand and an envelope in the other, “It’s Yifan.”

Chanyeol had first met Luhan at the charity event – a paralegal who
often doubled as a journalist.

So, Yifan would be the one attempting to have him charged in court.
Pleasant.

“We’ll reconvene after lunch,” Minseok told the table, “Luhan, take
this to Jongdae – and let Tao know we’ll need a conference room free.”
Luhan bowed his head, taking the dossier with him as Chanyeol
frowned – a conference room could only mean one thing.

“Is he coming here?” Chanyeol asked, after the intern left.

“I’m doubtful,” Minseok answered, his finger slipping under the lapel
of the envelop to open it, “Though I do suspect Yifan will be the one to
make an appearance.”

“Why so soon?” Chanyeol continued, before realising with a deflating

sigh, “He wants a settlement.”

“Your days at law school were not a complete waste, then,” Minseok’s
tone was light, half-hearted and Chanyeol appreciated it, “But, yes.
This letter confirms that.”

He hoped his father opted to remain out of direct contact – he hoped he

would never have to see the other man’s face again, and were it not for
his obligation to attend a possible trial, he never would.

“Settlements are quick and easy,” Chanyeol said, quietly.

Minseok pressed his lips together for a moment, considering the

younger before he sighed, “Perhaps. If it’s what you’d prefer, we could
settle – you don’t have to worry about money, Chanyeol. I’ve got
you.”

“And then we can move on from this mess,” He responded, “But…”

“But, it doesn’t feel right, does it?” Minseok finished for him,
“Chanyeol, you can’t give in to this – to him.”

Chanyeol looked up to find Minseok staring at him in sincerity. He

nodded.

They were sat close enough for Minseok to take his hand, his thumb
brushing over the juts of Chanyeol’s knuckles.
“After everything he’s done, after everything he has put you through, it
would not be just for us to simply let it go and settle with money,”
Minseok admitted, squeezing his hand, “Perhaps you would prefer to
avoid trial, but, Chanyeol, I need you to believe I can and will destroy
his defence.”

“Ah,” Jongdae’s voice came from the door, “It’s true, Minseok is a
formidable trial lawyer.”

Jongdae slipped into the room, dropping into one of the free chairs
with ease as Zitao trailed after him, appearing disgruntled to be
removed from his desk of residence.

“You read the file?” Minseok started. He didn’t let go of Chanyeol’s

hand and it was hard to miss the way Zitao glanced at him in curiosity.

“I read three lines,” Jongdae retorted, “I don’t suspect you’ll need

much help for this case, Minnie, but my time is here if you need it.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Kyungsoo.”

Tao looked from Minseok to Jongdae with a cocked eyebrow.

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at Zitao in thought.

“Ah,” Jongdae said again, “I am going to miss him destroying my ass

in court.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol blinked in confusion, “What?”

“Kyungsoo and I, we never talk about work,” Jongdae began, his smile
small, “And I would never ask him to put us before work, but honestly,
your father is a piece of shit and I’ve been trying to get him to transfer
for quite some time.”

“But, you can’t just…” Chanyeol trailed off, “He wouldn’t just…”

“He isn’t as bad as you think he is,” Jongdae responded and Tao
snorted, “Call Kyungsoo for me, Tao. Arrange a meeting.”
“I’m not your secretary,” Zitao’s complaint was instant, “Why can’t
you just-.”

“Because I asked you,” Jongdae interrupted, before pushing his chair

away from the table to stand, “When my hands are not otherwise tied,
Minnie, I’m free to help.”

Minseok nodded in thanks.

“Park Chanyeol,” Zitao started, peering at him curiously over the table,
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“If it was Baekhyun, you know it’s untrustworthy, right?”

The blonde let out a short laugh, “As expected, though I don’t think he
was wrong about certain other things.”

Chanyeol willed himself not to blush.

“Goodbye, Zitao,” Minseok said, though it sounded more like a get

out. The latter rolled his eyes as he left.

“Did you two ever…?” Chanyeol questioned after the blonde was out
of earshot.

“Are you concerned?” The lawyer returned.

“No,” Chanyeol answered, because he was not, “Curious.”

Minseok hummed, “I was never interested, though he did introduce me

to Baekhyun and consequently, you.”

“How does he know everyone I know?”

“And, Zitao has been taken for quite some time. He and Jongdae are
rather inseparable.”

“Jongdae?” Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows, “But, I thought Jongdae

and Kyungsoo were… something weird.”
“I suppose you could say Zitao is the both of theirs.”

“Oh,” Oh, “Theirs as in…”

“A relationship? Yes.”

Chanyeol bit the inside of his lip, “Am I yours?”

Minseok didn’t appear slightly surprised by the question, “Do you

want to be?”

“You haven’t asked me.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Not to interrupt, but, our guest is here,” Luhan informed, appearing

mildly amused, “I showed him to the conference room.”

“He arrived alone?” Minseok asked, his tone far less soft than a
moment ago.

Luhan nodded, “He seems to be under the impression you’re willing to

settle.”

“Would you prefer to remain out of the room?” Minseok asked

Chanyeol, “If his client is absent, I don’t see reason why you should
have to attend.”

The paralegal opened his mouth to protest, but Chanyeol spoke first.

“No,” Chanyeol answered, “I’d prefer to be there.”

He was unsure why, entirely – he could trust that Minseok would

handle the meeting appropriately, but refusing to show his face merely
felt like hiding. He’d hid for long enough and Minseok had been right,
perhaps it was time for him to push back.

Minseok appeared less tense than Chanyeol felt, but there was a hard
line to his lips and a hard set to his jaw that carried an air of
intimidation. He could feel it as they walked across the soft carpeted
floor and towards the conference room, Minseok’s shoulders set
straight as he fixed his cufflinks. If it were not for the situation,
Chanyeol would have preferred to spend longer staring at the lawyer.

“Wu,” Minseok greeted as Luhan held open the door to the room.

No formalities, no titles, no smile or nod of his head – a mere Wu.

Chanyeol swallowed.

“Kim Xiumin,” Yifan responded, though he made no move to stand as

his eyes wandered over to the younger, “Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol chose not to reply, his response deemed successful when

Yifan narrowed his eyes.

“The last I checked, you were not a senior associate for any division
concerning battery,” Minseok said as they both sat down across from
Yifan, “Are you here to waste my time?”

“Coming from you,” Yifan sneered in retort, “Partner of a law firm yet
representative of a defendant being accused of battery. Are you truly
that desperate?”

“I’m unsure if it slipped your mind,” Minseok’s tone was cold, “But, I
am the leading partner of this firm. It is my decision as to which cases I
see fit to take on, though not the same can be said for you.”

“Let me guess,” Yifan snorted as he sat back, his eyes glancing from
Minseok to Chanyeol, “Pro-bono?”

“Tell me, does that aid your plight any further?”

“What, that you’re fucking the defendant?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened.

“There is no prohibition concerning an attorney representing a

significant other, if that happened to be the circumstance,” Minseok
was nonchalant, his eyes focussed on the man across the table, “I am
not here to listen to trivial bullshit, Yifan – we have a no bullshit
policy, here. I see that is not the case for your firm.”

Yifan’s jaw clenched shut, Minseok’s indifference putting the other in

his place – reminding him of his insubstantial position, in Chanyeol’s
opinion. It was clear Mr Park had sent Yifan as some form of
intimidation, using their previous relationship to gain a foothold in
negotiations. Park International had either incorrectly anticipated
Minseok, or assumed a person of his position would not see to such a
case.

“My firm sent forward some documents in advance,” Yifan restarted

after a moment, “I-.”

“We will not reach a settlement, today,” Minseok cut the other off, “If
that’s all you came here to discuss, I’m afraid this meeting will be
substantially shorter. Perhaps you should have called ahead.”

“You haven’t listened to our terms,” Yifan then laughed, “This is

hardly worth the effort of trial.”

“We are not willing to settle, Wu.”

“We?” The other ridiculed, glancing between the two, “Or you? I’m
certain Chanyeol-.”

“You are in no position to speak for my client,” Minseok retorted, his

indifference demeanour beginning to irritate the other attorney, “Is that
all you wish to discuss?”

Yifan scoffed, gathering his papers silently – Chanyeol saw a vein

jump on Yifan’s temple and suspected, if it had not been for
professionality, far worse words would have been exchanged across
the table.

“See you in court.”

Minseok opted not to bother with a farewell as Yifan stormed past
Luhan – Chanyeol only felt himself deflate after the man’s tall frame
had disappeared through the door, sinking into his seat with a sigh.

“Your secretary asked me to remind you about your lunchtime

meeting,” Luhan informed, leaning against the door, “He’s busy
bargaining with Kyungsoo, I didn’t ask for details.”

“Thank you, Luhan,” Minseok returned, the paralegal bowing his head
and slipping from the room, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Chanyeol replied, frowning, “I’m-.”

“Not a kid, I know,” The lawyer then smiled, leaning over and placing
a kiss to Chanyeol’s forehead, “Don’t feel inclined to stay, I have a
feeling this meeting will be rather strenuous on time.”

Chanyeol nodded, words frozen on his tongue in consequence to the

soft gesture as he watched the lawyer leave. Minseok would be
missing his lunch hour, and then some, for a meeting that sounded
none too pleasant – Chanyeol couldn’t help but consider the ways in
which he could find himself useful.

Minseok had told him that Heechul was at his disposal, so it wasn’t
long before he was back at the lawyer’s apartment and searching
through drawers for things he was certain he’d seen the lawyer put
away. He did stop for a moment to consider how comfortable he was
here, literally going through another man’s things without a slither of
guilt.

Opening the final drawer, Chanyeol let out an aha when he found the
collection of toys he’d been searching for – or more particularly, the
few dark coloured plugs he’d had the pleasure of stumbling across
before. Pocketing the choker Minseok had given him, he considered
his options; he could prepare himself here, risking an awkward car
journey with Heechul, or he could do it in Minseok’s empty office,
risking an entire handful of possibilities.
The latter was exhilarating, the idea itself stirring Chanyeol’s arousal.

☽☾

Chanyeol had been attempting to gather the courage to face Zitao for
approximately ten minutes, the blonde’s desk situated on the way to
Minseok’s office. Zitao had picked up on his hesitation, grinning
beautifully and placing his chin atop his hand, finding amusement in
the way Chanyeol’s cheeks burned red and he lowered his voice.

“Zitao-.”

“Please,” Zitao cut him off, still grinning, “Call me Tao.”

“Tao,” Chanyeol tried again, trying not to meet the other’s eyes, “I was
wondering… do you know how much longer Minseok’s meeting will
run?”

“I predict his office will be empty for another 30 minutes, if that’s

what you mean.”

Chanyeol nodded, “Does anyone else usually… drop by?”

“I’ll make sure it’s just you and Minnie,” Tao confirmed and Chanyeol
hated how quick the other could catch onto things, “Until my shift
finishes, at least.”

Closing Minseok’s office door behind him, Chanyeol took a moment

to appreciate the lawyer’s office in its empty glory and guided his feet
to Minseok’s chair – it already felt daring to sit in the firm’s partner’s
chair without permission, what he was about to do even more so.

He placed his jacket over the seat of the chair to minimise mess, taking
a deep breath and glancing towards the door one last time, before
sliding his pants off. After securing the choker around his neck, his
thumb absently brushing over the KM initials sown into the material,
he placed the plug and bottle of lube atop Minseok’s desk.

Spreading his legs and slicking up his fingers, Chanyeol reached below
the desk to prepare himself. He bit his bottom lip as he slid the first
finger in, starting a rhythm that aimed for efficiency where time was
concerned. His other hand gripped the edge of Minseok’s desk when
he added a second, an attempt to remain quiet so that the only sound
filling the office was that of his quickened breathing.

If Tao failed to stop anyone from coming into the office, they would
wander through to see Kim Xiumin’s client fingering himself open on
their boss’s chair. The thought sent a jolt of sensation straight to his
dick and he bit his lip harder, scissoring himself open enough to add a
third and groaning low in his throat.

The toy he’d chosen wasn’t particularly large – small enough so that,
if, Minseok was to fuck him, Chanyeol would still feel a stretch.
Making sure he’d added enough lube, he relaxed his lower half enough
to slide the toy into himself. He remained still for a few moments
further, waiting for his breathing to return to normal before pulling on
his clothes to wait – it was difficult to remain nonchalant when he was
halfway to hardness in his pants.

Just as he’d slid on his jacket, there was a noise at the door. Chanyeol
sat back, attempting to appear casual as Minseok opened the door to
his office. Even from here, Chanyeol could see the hard line of a frown
between the lawyer’s eyebrows, the tenseness of his gait; perhaps
coming back to the office wasn’t the worst idea, after all.

“Difficult meeting?” Chanyeol asked.

“Irritating,” Minseok agreed, his eyes darkening when they fell to the
choker around Chanyeol’s neck marking the younger as his, “A senior
team unable to handle the simplest of subpoenas.”
“Sounds stressful,” Chanyeol replied, swallowing when the elder
stalked forward, “I thought I’d try help.”

“Oh?” The lawyer questioned, tracing where the choker met

Chanyeol’s neck with his finger.

“If you’d allow me.”

Minseok hooked his finger beneath the choker, using it to guide

Chanyeol to his feet to push him against the desk, “You’re offering to
relieve my stress, hm?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol murmured, the lawyer’s finger stopping just atop his
windpipe, “Please.”

The first kiss was softer than Chanyeol had expected it would be,
Minseok using the slow pace to lick into Chanyeol’s mouth to claim it
with his tongue. Chanyeol didn’t attempt to push, merely kept up with
the lawyer’s pace as hands pushed his jacket onto the desk behind. The
hands continued across Chanyeol’s torso as they kissed, Minseok’s lips
dipping to trace along his neck as his hands reached Chanyeol’s ass.

He squeezed, hard, the tight grip reminding Chanyeol all too well of
the plug pressing inside of him and the younger groaned.

Minseok paused, his hands dipping beneath Chanyeol’s waistband and

down his ass until his fingers found what they were looking for. The
growl that followed made Chanyeol strain harder against his
underwear, the lawyer then pushing him harder into the desk to leave a
more bruising mark on Chanyeol’s neck.

“When?”

“Waiting for you,” Chanyeol gasped out when Minseok pushed his hip
between his legs, “In here. On your chair.”

“Shit,” Minseok breathed out, sliding his hand out of Chanyeol’s pants,
“Did you come?”
Chanyeol shook his head, “I was waiting for you.”

Minseok kissed him a little harder, the air rushing from Chanyeol’s
lungs as the elder’s hip added much-needed friction to his dick.

“What do you want?” Minseok asked him, tipping Chanyeol’s head up

to take in the pretty picture of his swollen lips.

He’d already thought about his answer.

“Use me.”

The grip on Chanyeol’s face tightened for a split second as Minseok

kissed him one last time, teeth nipping harshly at the younger’s bottom
lip before he took a step back. He considered Chanyeol for a moment,
eyes lingering on his lips before falling to the choker around his throat.

“On your knees.”

Chanyeol didn’t hesitate, trying not to whine when the movement

moved the plug in his ass.

After sitting down on the chair in front of Chanyeol, Minseok pulled

down the zipper of dress pants far too expensive to consider getting
messy – and for some reason, this felt dirtier than the lawyer ridding
himself of his pants completely.

His hands gripped the muscle of Minseok’s thighs when he took the
lawyer into his mouth, Minseok’s tip dragging across the roof of his
mouth. The elder tangled his fingers in Chanyeol’s hair, using his grip
to situate Chanyeol beneath his desk; each movement backwards had
Chanyeol whining around Minseok’s cock, the plug pushing against
his walls but not quite enough.

Minseok moved his foot to press against Chanyeol’s straining cock and
the younger let out a groan, loud enough for Minseok to tighten his
grip on the brunette’s hair. His earlier preparation already had him
riled up and Chanyeol wasn’t too sure how long he could even last like
this.

“What if someone walked in to hear that?” His heel pressed harder

against Chanyeol’s cock, causing him to choke down a whimper,
“Hear you choking on my dick, grinding against my foot?”

As if to prove his point, Minseok pushed Chanyeol’s head down and

the younger gagged, the tip hitting the back of his throat. He looked up
at Minseok, a silent plea for more and Minseok obliged, pushing
Chanyeol back down until tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He
was practically rutting against Minseok’s foot, feeling utterly filthy
and incredibly aroused.

And, of course, someone was bound to enter the office at some point.

The grip on his hair slackened.

“Luhan,” Minseok said in greeting and Chanyeol screwed his eyes

shut, “I thought you had left.”

“I had a draft to drop off,” Luhan replied, and Chanyeol was thankful
it sounded like the other chose to linger around the door.

“Leave it on Tao’s desk.”

Minseok increased pressure on Chanyeol’s dick, who retaliated by

sucking harder. The lawyer gripped his hair, hard and Chanyeol had to
fight himself to remain silent. Any noise would probably alert the
other to what was happening, and Chanyeol hated the way his cock
pulsed at the mere thought.

“Will do. Goodnight, boss,” was followed by the sound of the office
door shutting.

Chanyeol keened when Minseok thrust up into his mouth, running his
tongue along the underside until Minseok hissed and started fucking
upwards. Completely unprepared, with a shit kitten you look so good
like this and a twist of Minseok’s foot, Chanyeol came, groaning hard
around Minseok’s cock as he dirtied the inside of his underwear.

“Princess,” Minseok all but purred, tugging him up with the hand in
his hair, “Did you just come?”

Skin flushing bright red from sheer embarrassment, Chanyeol did

nothing more but stare at the lawyer sheepishly. The lawyer pulled him
to stand, pushing him chest first onto the desk to tug down Chanyeol’s
pants. His fingers found the plug, toying with it for a moment before
he began to pump it in and out of Chanyeol’s ass – Chanyeol gasped,
squirming, glad his earlier-discarded jacket was atop the desk.

Minseok remained pumping the toy, pressing kisses against crook of

Chanyeol’s neck and murmuring good boy, though Chanyeol had no
fucking idea what he’d done to deserve the praise.

Without warning, Minseok slid the toy out and Chanyeol winced,
hands gripping the desk when the head of Minseok’s cock pressed into
him. Bent over the desk, his legs spread, a filthy picture in Chanyeol’s
mind as Minseok filled him perfectly. He groaned against the desk,
half-thinking about the inappropriateness of drooling against wood this
expensive.

When Minseok gathered his hands to press against his lower back,
fucking into him hard from behind, any consideration for the
expensive desk became irrelevant. His hands immobilised and his
cheek pressed against the wood, Chanyeol could feel his own dick
twitching – he’d lost sense of his tongue already, moans growing in
pitch as he spared a thought to anyone walking past the office.

Minseok was groaning low in his throat with each thrust and
Chanyeol’s mind was a fucking mess of please and Minseok as the
elder picked up his pace, all but ramming Chanyeol against the desk
with a bruising grip on his wrists.

“F-fuck, Minseok,” Chanyeol’s words were a breathy mess, he made

himself swallow before continuing, “Come in me, please.”
“You’re so-,” Thrust, “Beautiful like this, fuck, Chanyeol.”

“Please,” Chanyeol repeated in a whine, “Please, please-.”

Chanyeol almost yelled when Minseok slammed against that point,

biting his lip hard enough to break the scab from his split lip; the
metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as Minseok thrust in to him,
tense and stilling, spilling into Chanyeol with praises on his tongue.

They were both left panting in the seconds after, Chanyeol’s cock half-
hard and sensitive against Minseok’s fucking work desk as the elder
littered kisses across Chanyeol’s wrists, a small apology for how hard
he’d been gripping them.

His mind felt like cotton when Minseok turned him over, thumbs
gently rubbing over the skin after he’d cleaned the blood from
Chanyeol’s lip. He then leaned forward to kiss Chanyeol properly, and
the younger let out an unconscious sigh of content.

He then dropped to his knees, and Chanyeol felt like he was fucking
floating.

Kim fucking Xiumin was on his knees, in his own office, swallowing
down Park Chanyeol without hesitation. It took the last of Chanyeol’s
remaining self-restraint to not thrust into the heat – and Minseok
figured that out, pinning Chanyeol’s hips to his desk as he bobbed his
head. Chanyeol moved a hand to his own mouth, afraid that he’d alert
any late-night workers to their activities as he muffled his own moans.

Looking down, Chanyeol couldn’t help but gasp into his own hand –
Minseok looked incredible, his lips stretched around Chanyeol’s cock
and his hair askew from how hard he’d been fucking the younger.
Raising the hand that wasn’t muffling his mouth, he gently ran his
fingers through the lawyer’s hair, pushing it back and out of his eyes.
Minseok looked up at him then, locking eyes as his tongue followed a
certain vein that almost had Chanyeol caving in on himself.
The way Minseok looked up at him had Chanyeol’s heart beating
tenfold in his chest.

Minseok said nothing when Chanyeol’s grip in his hair tightened, his
breath stuttering and his moan a whisper when he came into the other’s
mouth – who swallowed it down without prompting, standing back up
to kiss Chanyeol deeply.

Chanyeol was unsure how long they remained there, Minseok stood
between his open legs and painting his face in kisses as his mind took
its time to come back to ground level. His fingers were gripping the
hem of Minseok’s untucked shirt weakly, until eventually, he leaned
forward to rest his head against the crook of the lawyer’s neck.

“You back with us, yet?” Minseok asked, hand raised to tilt Chanyeol’s
head up.

“I think so,” Chanyeol responded, and Minseok kissed him again, and
fuck if Chanyeol’s heart wasn’t melting in his chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Kitten.”

☽☾

Going to work with Minseok that morning and leaving in the evening,
albeit with certain happenings occurring some time in between,
Chanyeol could almost feel the boundary lines between them thinning.
It was inevitable that they’d return to the conversation they’d had that
morning, having been interrupted by a mildly-amused paralegal – the
unanswered question: am I yours?

Other than Minseok, Chanyeol appreciated that he probably had to

return home at some point – to assure Sehun that, yes, he wasn’t dead
and assure Baekhyun that, no, he wasn’t busy blindly running from
anything he considered mildly scary. He’d received a handful of
similarly worded text messages.

Right now, the rest felt irrelevant. It was late, the moon’s light keeping
the edges of the clouds aware in the dark night sky – his hand in
Minseok’s, his head resting against Minseok’s shoulder in the backseat
of his car and words unneeded between them. Chanyeol supposed, if
Minseok wanted to, he could restart their morning conversation. But,
what if he didn’t want to?

Chanyeol was feeling a little too tired to care.

Deciding to look at their entwined fingers, he began, “Minseok.”

“Hm?” The lawyer responded, the hum deep in Chanyeol’s ear.

“I want to continue our conversation from this morning,” He thanked

himself for holding out on the blush, “I mean, if you want to.”

A finger on his chin tilted his head up, their faces so close that they
were sharing air.

“Park Chanyeol,” Minseok murmured, the ghost of his words tracing

over Chanyeol’s lips, “Be mine.”

“Okay,” He replied, the butterflies in his stomach making him feel

lighter, “I’m yours.”

“My boyfriend?” Minseok smirked just to watch Chanyeol fail to hide

his blush, “I like that.”

He placed a small kiss on Chanyeol’s forehead, before the younger

buried his head into Minseok’s shoulder – partly to hide the pinking
blush, but also to hide his dumb fucking smile. Minseok squeezed his
hand, and Chanyeol held on, the butterflies in his stomach entertaining
his veins; in what universe did this happen, to him? For once,
Chanyeol allowed himself this moment, allowed himself to breathe in
the scent of a man he adored as he watched the world race by,
untouchable through the glass of the car window.

“About time,” Heechul muttered from the driver’s seat.

☽☾

Sehun watched him pour milk over his cereal, eyes narrowed, glaring
holes into Chanyeol’s back. Baekhyun, on the other hand, was busy
typing rapidly on his phone and hiding it from view any time Sehun
attempted to sneak a look. Chanyeol assumed it had something to do
with a particular dance school exec, but he’d let Baekhyun tell them in
his own time.

“So,” Chanyeol started as he turned around, spooning cereal into his

mouth, “How was your weekend?”

“It’s Tuesday,” Baekhyun corrected, not looking up from his phone.

Sehun sighed, “Its Wednesday.”

“Whatever,” Baekhyun and Chanyeol said in unison.

“If it wasn’t for the blossoming hickey on your neck,” Sehun said, eyes
dropping to Chanyeol’s neck to prove a point, “I’d assume you spent
the rest of your time in jail, unable to answer your texts.”

“Firstly, mom, we left the police station together,” Chanyeol retorted,

and Baekhyun looked up from his phone, eyes widening as he looked
between them, “Secondly, I was busy with... legal things?”

“You guys got arrested?” Baekhyun then paused, “Without me?”

“Legal things,” Sehun replied, deadpan, “The last I see of you, we’re
leaving a police station, you’re beaten and bruised and then you ignore
my text messages?”

“Um,” Baekhyun was staring at Chanyeol, “What happened to your

face? Did you get in a fight?”

“A lot… of things? Happened,” Chanyeol decided on, feeling a slither

of guilt because yes, for once, Sehun was correct, “Minseok picked me
up from the hospital and I just…”

“What happened?” Sehun asked, more softly this time.

Chanyeol focussed on eating his cereal for a moment.

“Did your dad do that to you?” Baekhyun questioned, eyebrows

furrowing in the beginnings of anger.

“Baek, not now.”

“I went to the hospital,” Chanyeol retold, moving to sit across from

Baek and Sehun, “He moved my mom onto their private residences, I
can’t see her until the trial is over – because I’m not allowed anywhere
near him.”

“Fuck,” Sehun voiced what Chanyeol was thinking, “Maybe…

Minseok could look into it? Perhaps file an appeal?”

“You’re going to court?” Baekhyun’s tone was becoming increasingly

hysteric and Sehun shot him a look, “Right, okay, tell me later.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol said in realisation, “I never thought about that.”

“And let me guess, you didn’t tell Minseok, so he couldn’t suggest it.”

Chanyeol shifted on his seat, “I didn’t mean to keep it to myself.”

Baekhyun watched him for a moment, before he said, “So, you finally
let him be there for you, huh?”
“Um,” Chanyeol, once again, was not blushing, “You could say that.”

“Well, I have a dinner date in an hour and I’m certainly not turning up
in Sehun’s jeans,” Baekhyun earned a scowl from Sehun, before he
shot a knowing look in Chanyeol’s direction as he stood, “Enjoy your
evening, kids.”

Chanyeol finished his cereal, making idle conversation with Sehun as

he cleaned up – Sehun told him about his week with Junmyeon, that
even though Sehun had stopped receiving payments, Junmyeon still
spoiled him at every possible moment. It reminded Chanyeol that he’d
have to tell Minseok that, too; he didn’t want to be paid to date him.

It still hadn’t sunk in and Chanyeol felt like he was waiting for the
second shoe to drop, for someone to entertain him with a haha just
kidding – everything that he’d felt, the tightening in his chest
whenever Minseok as much as looked at him, it hadn’t been for
nothing. Perhaps Chanyeol didn’t believe that, yet; didn’t believe that
something like this could happen to him – the mere idea filled him
with an almost giddy excitement, because holy shit he was
Minseok’s… And Minseok was his.

After everything that had happened, Minseok still wanted him. It felt a
little dangerous to hold so much affection for one man.

“Hey,” Sehun said, quietly, after they’d lapsed into a silence, “You
know what you’re doing, right?”

“Doing with what?”

“With Minseok,” Sehun clarified, “I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh. Um, not really.”

Sehun tutted, pulling him into a side hug, “Be careful. I care about
you, like, a little bit.”
“A little bit,” Chanyeol repeated, shoving his best friend away, “I see
how it is.”

“I’m trying to be nice!”

“I know,” His tone softened slightly, “And I’m thankful.”

“We’ve been through a lot, okay? I’m not ready to let just about
anyone fuck with my best friend.”

Chanyeol snorted, “I’ll let him know you think so.”

☽☾

The rest of the week remained, quite frankly, uneventful. Chanyeol had
always hoped court would be a little more riveting than a continuous
flow of paperwork, but he’d recently seen enough subpoenas to last a
life-time and he’d already dropped out of law school. He’d always
hated the constant on-edge mindset that law school had brought, the
competitiveness, the permanent need to out-perform your peers.

Minseok suited it well, Chanyeol realised, for he flourished in quite

literally anything he set his mind to.

“Let’s get lunch,” Chanyeol suggested, sliding into Minseok’s office a

minute into the firm’s lunch hour.

The lawyer looked up in slight surprise, “I thought you were finished

here this morning.”

“I was,” He confirmed, sitting in one of the chairs across from

Minseok’s desk, “I thought lunch with you was worth sticking around
for.”
Minseok winced slightly, though his tone was warm with the
younger’s sentiment, “I have a lot of work to do.”

“Is it work that’ll still be here when you return in an hour?” Chanyeol
asked.

“Well, yes,” Minseok answered, cocking an eyebrow.

“Great, let’s go.”

“Chanyeol,” The lawyer sighed and Chanyeol was half certain he’d
detected a hint of a whine, “I really do have much to do.”

The younger watched him for a moment, “You’ll catch that disease
people get when they’re inside for too long.”

“Cabin fever,” Minseok informed, meeting Chanyeol’s eyes for a few

moments. The younger didn’t blink, “Fine, you win. One hour.”

Chanyeol grinned.

They decided on a nearby restaurant that was a tad too formal for
Chanyeol’s liking, though it was enough that he’d managed to drag the
lawyer out of his office for the hour. The latter seemed a regular, as the
waitress smiled brightly and showed them to a table without much
hassle. Minseok didn’t even glance at a menu, ordering for them both
as Chanyeol watched in hidden awe.

After the waiter brought over their non-alcoholic, Chanyeol drinks,

Chanyeol said, “When you picked me up from the hospital a couple of
nights ago,” Minseok looked up in mild surprise, “I never did tell you
why.”

“You’re not obligated to tell me everything,” The lawyer tried, “I

admit I was a little frustrated that you thought you couldn’t confide in
me.”

“It wasn’t that, I didn’t want to burden you with-.”

“Chanyeol, it’s okay,” Minseok interrupted, though his tone was soft,
“We can talk about that when we have more time.”

“You knew my mom was in that hospital, right?” He waited for

Minseok’s nod, “Well, Mr Park had her moved home. Their home.
With private medical aid.”

Minseok’s eyebrows furrowed, “Moving her to where you’re not

permitted to go.”

He nodded, distracting himself with a sip from his glass, “I was upset.”

“It will take me two seconds to file an appeal,” Minseok told him,
though he still looked rather displeased, “All the court has to do is ask
your mother.”

Chanyeol snorted – Sehun had said that.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said in earnest.

“I’ll do it as soon as I return to my office.”

The waitress appeared with their food, a range of meat and a handful
of side servings and they both thanked her. Chanyeol was content to
just eat for a few moments, the stress of the week hardly relevant as he
chewed – and watched Minseok do the same, half certain the lawyer
skipped out on lunch some days for meetings and the such. He’d drop
by with food himself, if he had to.

“I also, um, wanted to talk to you about something.”

Minseok hummed, “You know you don’t need my approval to just talk
about something?”

Chanyeol swallowed his food, cheeks dusted lightly pink, “You don’t
have to… pay me… anymore?”

“What if I wanted to?” Minseok asked in a beat, taking another chunk

of meat.
The younger stared at him, a little wide-eyed, “Wouldn’t it be…
weird? I mean we’re…” blush, “Y’know?”

Minseok was smiling, albeit small and soft, “If you don’t like it, you
could always put it in a separate account for emergencies. Or in case,
you know, the future isn’t what we want it to be.”

In case we break up, Chanyeol read between the lines.

“You can’t just pay me, for nothing,” Chanyeol complained, pushing
rice around with his chopsticks.

“You’re busy doing what you want to do with your music, Chanyeol,”
Minseok chewed for a moment, before continuing, “Between that and
a court case, it’s not like you have time to work doing something you’d
be happy doing. Allow me to do this, for you.”

Chanyeol stared at him, before sighing, “Fine. But, reduce it – just

enough to cover rent. That’s it.”

He couldn’t believe he was negotiating with his boyfriend concerning

the subject of paying him to do nothing. Despite his complaints, he
was grateful – Minseok was right, he was busy setting up a portfolio
and composing for small companies on freelance, something he
wouldn’t be able to do if he worked elsewhere. There was also the fact
that this apartment was a little pricier than the last. Thanks to Sehun.

“Fine,” Minseok copied, “But, I’m allowed to buy you what I please.”

“You mean spoil me,” He raised an eyebrow.

Minseok shrugged, “You say spoil, I say buying beautiful things for
my beautiful boyfriend.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help it; he smiled for the rest of the lunch hour.
 Chapter 8

It was almost incredible how fast Minseok worked – it had taken no

more than the weekend for the lawyer to appeal and reinstate
guidelines concerning Chanyeol’s contact with his mother, and by the
Monday, Chanyeol had been granted permission to visit her. Although
cliché, there were no words Chanyeol could say to tell Minseok how
thankful he was for everything. They had somehow transformed from
a purely pleasure based business relationship to something much more
– sure, they’d cared for each other before, but… well, Chanyeol wasn’t
quite sure how to describe the euphoria in his chest when Minseok
pulled him close, the happiness undeniable in both of their eyes.

So perhaps sometimes he felt like a charity case, felt a little unworthy,

an idealist in a world surrounded by everything real – but, for once, he
preferred to ignore those thoughts, to focus instead on the things he
had instead of worrying about when they would be gone.

“I could come with you,” Minseok said as they pulled into the
driveway of his parent’s private estate.

The journey had been long, almost an entire city away, yet Minseok
had insisted on being the one to drive Chanyeol. He was certain
Minseok had far more important things to do, Chanyeol had stated as
much, but one look from the lawyer and a let me do this for you had
him yielding in a record breaking time.

“I won’t be long,” Chanyeol replied instead, “I don’t want to involve

her in any of this.”

Minseok’s hand shifted on the steering wheel, “She might be the best
person for us to consider, in this case.”

“And risk worsening her condition? I really don’t want to involve her
in this, Minseok.”
The other didn’t say anything, instead averted his attention to parking
the car. They both climbed out of the car, Chanyeol’s movements less
confident as he allowed his eyes to roam across the expanse of his
childhood – he’d grown up here, studied here, played with Sehun when
they were young, here; his life as he knew it had come to an end, here.

He felt a warm hand slide into his own and he blinked, as though only
just remembering why they were here. Not all his memories here were
bad, a lot of them were, but he chose to remember the days he’d spent
fucking around with Sehun rather than remembering how everything
he’d known had come apart beneath his feet.

“Let’s not stay here for long,” Chanyeol informed as they reached the
front door.

Minseok raised their entwined hands to press a kiss to Chanyeol’s

knuckles, “I’ll stay by the car, I have a few calls to make.”

Chanyeol winced, “I forgot you’re supposed to be working, not driving

me across the fucking city-.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted, his tone almost chastising, “Shut up.

Text me if you need me.”

“Sir, yes sir,” He nodded in response, Minseok leaving him with a roll
of his eyes.

Thankfully, he was shown to his mother’s room – he’d much rather

avoid permission to travel through these corridors alone, far too many
distantly familiar rooms and paintings and things that sank like lead to
the bottom of his stomach. Things he would prefer not to think about.

He supposed it was better for his mom here, in familiarity, by walls

coated in something other than a sickly white, by surroundings
offering comfort. She was asleep when he first sat down, but stirred
briefly until her eyes opened – he felt a little guilty at interrupting her
rest, but he wouldn’t be staying for long and he had wanted to make
sure she was doing okay.
She smiled tiredly when she realised it was him.

“It must be awful stuck inside,” Chanyeol began, glancing around the
room.

“It’s not too bad,” Her voice was wispy, as though the simple syllables
cost an effort she didn’t have, “Not much different from being stuck in
an office.”

“Did he tell you…” He trailed off, unsure how to explain to his mother
that no, he hadn’t assaulted his father.

“He did.”

“I didn’t just… attack him,” Chanyeol tried to clarify, finding it a little

difficult to look her in the eye, “He hit me first, mom.”

His mom paused for a moment, and Chanyeol looked back to see her
troubled, “This isn’t right.”

“I know,” Chanyeol took her hand gently, half afraid it would break in
his larger hands, “But, Minseok is representing me.”

“Oh, I told you he must be serious about you,” Her small smile was
smug.

“Yeah,” His reply was quiet, “I suppose he is.”

“I’m glad you’re no longer running from it,” She continued, sounding
far too similar to Baekhyun for Chanyeol’s comfort, “Your room is
untouched, you know.”

“It was rather lifeless, wasn’t it?” Chanyeol responded, remembering

the blandness, “I could hardly be myself, here.”

“I thought we were doing what was best for you,” His mom said, and
Chanyeol almost wished he hadn’t mentioned it, “It took me far longer
than it would’ve any good mother to realise I was smothering you, and
your father far worse.”
“It’s okay,” He tried, trying to calm the way his mom was working
herself up, “I forgave you.”

She coughed for a moment, the few following breaths requiring

energy, “I tried to make your father drop this.”

“It’s okay,” He repeated, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We are not speaking, right now,” Her hoarse reply made Chanyeol
glance up in surprise, “I told him, if he refused to drop this case
against our son, then I refused to acknowledge him as my husband.”

“Mom,” Chanyeol kept his voice quiet, “Please don’t.”

She appeared a little worse than before – a little thinner, a little paler,
her coughing a little rougher, and it caused an ache somewhere in
Chanyeol’s chest. He didn’t want her fighting things for him, he
wanted her to focus on herself… It was clear she had little energy to
stand, the last thing Chanyeol wanted was a worsening in her condition
on the account of him.

“I’m tired of remaining silent when he’s wrong, when he’s being
himself,” She gave Chanyeol’s hand a weak squeeze, “I realise now
that this is something I should have done long ago.”

“You’re too sick to take part in this, mom,” He took her hand between
the both of his, “Please be careful.”

“I’m cleaning my mess, ‘Yeol, before it’s too late,” She continued, and
Chanyeol could feel the swell of his emotions in his stomach, “Before
I’m gone, and all you remember of me is a heartless woman who sat
by and did nothing as-.”

“Mom, please stop,” Chanyeol interrupted, realising her hand had

started to shake between his own, “It’s okay, I know. I love you.”

“I cannot believe I did the things I did,” She said, regardless, Chanyeol
looking away as her eyes teared up, “You deserve so much better. You
deserved loving parents who should’ve raised you with heart and not
by force, who listened to what you wanted instead of forcing you to do
what we had planned.”

Chanyeol’s voice was weak as he tried, “Mom.”

“You deserved parents who accepted you for who you were, for who
you are, for who you love,” She withdrew her hand to wipe at the tears
Chanyeol hadn’t realised were dripping down his own cheeks, “I’m
sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me make this right.”

He stood slowly, leaning over her frame on the bed to place a light kiss
on her cheek – he was afraid to hug her small figure, not wanting to
risk any pain he could cause. He told her it was okay, again, that he
was happy, that these things had already happened and could no longer
be changed – and called for the nurse when her coughing fit turned
into one of pain and blood.

They talked about light subjects until she fell asleep, realising that a
mere half hour had been enough time to exhaust her, to bring on a
coughing fit so severe he’d been a little afraid.

Chanyeol opted to let himself out, the fresh air a blessing on his face.
He’d checked his appearance before he left, hardly wanting to return to
Minseok with eyes ugly and swollen from tears he’d been unable to
keep in – the lawyer remained by his car, leaning against the hood with
his phone pressed against his face and his professional blank face,
which probably would’ve been a scowl on anyone else.

Minseok didn’t register his arrival until he was an arm’s length away,
his cold façade breaking into a small smile. Chanyeol merely hugged
him, wrapping his arms around the expensive suit and pressing his
nose into the other’s neck to breathe a sigh. With his free hand,
Minseok rubbed small half circles into the younger’s hip as he talked
into his phone.

The lawyer was still working, and Chanyeol had decided his boyfriend
had missed enough work because of himself. He reached into the
inside of Minseok’s suit blazer, his fingers dipping into the pockets one
by one until he found the car keys he was searching for. He pulled
away and held the keys up, Minseok cocking an eyebrow at him as
Chanyeol nudged him towards the passenger seat.

It was odd to see Minseok in the passenger seat, he was always either
in the driver’s seat or sat in the back if Heechul was driving them. He
also sent Chanyeol an odd look, a small crease between his eyebrows
as he buckled his seatbelt and Chanyeol started the engine (only after
adjusting the seat to give his long legs space to breathe). He wasn’t an
awful driver, he’d passed his test – he’d never had need for a car, not
when Baekhyun jumped at the opportunity of speeding his best friends
halfway to heart problems.

Chanyeol didn’t feel himself relax until the estate was no longer
visible in the wing mirror, and after that it didn’t take him long to
actually enjoy driving the car. It was expensive, it was Minseok’s and
it handled beautifully. He rarely cared about cars, but there was
something warm to be found in the comfort of Minseok working in the
passenger seat as he drove – the lawyer had taken out his laptop,
typing away with one hand as he spoke in quiet tones to his phone. He
watched his boyfriend struggle for a few moments as he waited for the
lights to change, eventually laughing and handing Minseok his
earphones with the microphone. He received a thankful glance in
return.

The two sounds within the car remained Minseok’s quiet voice and the
hum of the engine, and Chanyeol found it to be almost therapeutic –
his mind focussed solely on the road ahead and the soft merging of
sounds.

It took Minseok’s hand on his thigh to realise the lawyer had spoken to
him.

“I said,” Minseok began, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into

Chanyeol’s thigh, “It’s not uncommon for the accused to be made to
take the witness stand.”
“Ah,” Chanyeol let out, “I forgot.”

“Jongdae and I were just discussing it,” Minseok motioned to his

phone, on which Jongdae was currently on loud speaker, “We want to
put you through a fake trial, of sorts.”

“A fake trial?”

Minseok hummed as an affirmative, “The witness stand can be a

difficult place to be – and with Yifan working beneath P.I to question
you, I doubt he’s going to be… very nice.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his bitter laugh, “You mean, he’s going to be a
dick.”

“Exactly,” Jongdae’s voice came through Minseok’s phone’s speaker,

“The biggest dick.”

“Some lawyers prefer to drill the witness with difficult questions until
they break, slip up, or respond emotionally in some way that causes
the jury to doubt their claim,” Minseok informed, ignoring his firm
partner.

“So, what? You want to prepare me for that?”

“Yes,” Minseok confirmed, “Between Jongdae and I, I believe we can

cover almost anything Wu could ask.”

“I’ll do it,” Chanyeol agreed, still enjoying the warm of Minseok’s

hand on his thigh.

“That’s great,” Jongdae added, sounding a little too enthusiastic, “It’s

always fun to host a fake trial. Should we say, tonight? Bring food.”

Minseok hung up on the other man without replying.

The lawyer took over the driving when they stopped to buy food, his
eyebrow cocked in Chanyeol’s direction when he had to adjust the
chair. Chanyeol wasn’t sure why he blushed – perhaps remembering
the fact that his height factored into Minseok’s ability to reduce him
into someone so small – and instead focussed on placing the food onto
the backseat, hoping Minseok would take into consideration its well-
being as they drove.

It wasn’t until they entered an empty lobby, manned by a sole security

guard, that Chanyeol realised the time – realised that most workers had
headed home for the day, yet here Minseok was, the both of them
heading to the upper floors to meet Jongdae.

They’d bought extra food in case one of their secretaries had opted to
stay for overtime, their suspicions deemed correct when they entered
the conference room to find Zitao’s feet kicked up onto Jongdae’s lap.

Minseok waited until they were all happily eating before bringing up
the fake trial.

“Chanyeol,” His voice was quiet, unheard by the bickering two across
the table, “You know that we will not be playing nice, I assume?”

“I figured.”

“You need to control yourself as though this it’s a real trial,” Minseok
continued, “And remember that we’re not trying to attack you – this is
basic preparation.”

“I know,” Chanyeol confirmed, though he could feel his nerves rise

beneath his skin.

“It might get a little scary,” Jongdae added from where he sat, “The
real trial will be scarier. Wu will be scarier.”

“So, y’know,” Zitao said as he cleared the table, “Suck it up.”

Jongdae slapped the back of the blonde’s head lightly as he walked

past.

They set up the room so that Chanyeol sat at one end, a sole desk in
front of him and the rest of the tables moved out of the way to give the
lawyers roaming space. It was rather intimidating, but Chanyeol had
suspected that was the intent – and Tao was right, he’d have to suck it
up, especially if the real trial was going to be worse.

“Tao,” Jongdae started as he quickly scanned the papers in his hand,

“You be the judge.”

“I’m literally a secretary.”

“And now you’re literally a judge,” Jongdae replied, pushing the

blonde to sit on the only remaining chair.

It was daunting, at first – Jongdae had been the one to start, his
transition into his lawyer façade interesting to watch; from the raised
eyebrows of Zitao, Chanyeol assumed the secretary agreed. The
questions started off easy, slow, how was your relationship with your
father? It felt like a warm up and Chanyeol couldn’t help the way his
eyes would travel back to Minseok.

“Would you say you held a lot of anger towards your father?” Minseok
asked, eventually.

Chanyeol blinked, because sure, he’d always found Minseok attractive,

but Minseok wearing his suit and leaning against a discarded table
with his hardened gaze focussed on Chanyeol was fucking hot. It was
partially scary and under any other circumstance, Chanyeol would feel
attacked; but this was a fake trial and Minseok would soon be replaced
by Yifan in the halls of the court.

“Yes,” Chanyeol answered.

“Is that why you assaulted him?”

“I didn’t assault him.”

“But it would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Minseok had pushed himself
to stand as he spoke, “In your opinion, this man destroyed your life,
forced you to conform to his idea of a perfect son. Is that why you
assaulted him?”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his frown, “I didn’t-.”

“Anyone can understand the anger of a child, Chanyeol,” Minseok

interrupted, stalking closer, “When you eventually saw him, all that
anger, all that hatred, all those memories of your former self, they
came rushing back – and you lashed out, the exertion the only thing to
make you feel better.”

“No,” Chanyeol tried, “That’s not what happened, he-.”

“Is it because he was never accepting of who you are?”

Chanyeol had to bite the inside of his cheek to halt his bitter reply,
breathing a moment, before he said, “I have never cared what that man
thinks of me.”

“Was it because, perhaps, he ruined the first good thing you had?”
Minseok asked, and Chanyeol knew he was asking in place of Yifan.

Because Yifan knew these things, would probably ask these things, yet
Chanyeol couldn’t help the way his hands clenched at his sides. Yes,
his father had taken away the first good thing he’d had, it might not
have been the best thing, but Yifan would know this. He breathed in
slowly through his nose, knowing there was no way he would allow
Yifan to get the better of him in trial.

“He hit me first,” Chanyeol decided to reply after a few seconds, “We
then scuffled.”

“Was it easy to hit him?” Minseok returned, “Did it feel good? Was it
everything you had imagined it would be?”

“No,” He replied, perhaps a little too honestly, “I felt sick, I felt like
the next time I saw him would be too soon, I felt like that man was not
my father, instead merely a man I shared genetics with.”
Minseok paused, seemingly impressed, his eyes glancing over to
Jongdae for a moment. Jongdae shrugged.

“Objection,” Tao cut in, though no-one had been speaking.

Jongdae sighed, “You’re a judge, you don’t call that.”

“I just wanna know, what’s the point here?” Tao asked, “Chanyeol is
doing a tremendously good job at self-control and honestly I’m getting
bored.”

“We do seem to have hit a wall,” Jongdae agreed, and Minseok merely
returned to leaning against the discarded table.

“So,” Jongdae began with a tone that sounded suspicious, “I may, or

may not, have invited Kyungsoo.”

Minseok cocked an eyebrow – Chanyeol’s eyes widened.

“Is that a good idea?” Chanyeol questioned, trying to sound more

confident than he felt.

“Don’t be mad,” Jongdae sent a literal pout in Minseok’s direction,

“He’s settling in well, here, considering he just quit the big bad enemy
firm.”

“Well,” Minseok considered aloud, looking over to Chanyeol, “He is

ex-P.I, he knows their systems better than any of us. But, his recent
affiliation means he won’t be allowed in the court room with us. Are
you okay with this?”

Chanyeol’s head nodded without his consent.

His previous involvement with Kyungsoo had never been particularly

unpleasant – he remembered the other, briefly, always working with
his parents, somehow present in Chanyeol’s young life. He’d neglected
to think about who he’d left behind, but those thoughts had come
rushing back the day Kyungsoo had appeared at his door, a letter from
his mother in hand.
Kyungsoo remained as Chanyeol remembered him – distant, endlessly
professional and Chanyeol had to wonder how this man had stumbled
into a relationship with someone like Jongdae. And Tao.

“It would be best if we were left alone,” Kyungsoo informed after the
greetings, nodding towards the other three.

Minseok looked towards Chanyeol for permission and he nodded – the

lawyer gave his shoulder a small squeeze on his way out of the room.
It felt a little daunting to be the only one left with someone from his
past.

“Hello, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo’s voice was as deep as he remembered.

Wow, you’re still scary huh was on the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue, before
he cleared his throat to reply, “Hi.”

“I suppose I should clear a few things up,” Kyungsoo began, looking

through the papers Jongdae had left behind, “I worked predominantly
for your mother, I respect your mother, even if I preferred to avoid
affiliation with her husband. She had me deliver the letter to you.”

Chanyeol had never looked at it that way, “Was it easy for you to
leave?”

“I had been planning my resignation ever since I learned that your

mother would be leaving,” Kyungsoo answered, “Jongdae just
happened to be persuasive enough to speed up my decision.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to say – unsure he wanted to think

about the ways in which Jongdae had been persuasive.

“I’m not here to be your enemy, I’m here to help.”

“Why?” Chanyeol couldn’t help but ask. He needed to know why the
latter would even bother trying to help him, especially after so long.

“Because I want to, because Jongdae asked me to,” Kyungsoo seemed

to hesitate, before meeting Chanyeol’s eyes, “Because your mother
asked me to.”

Chanyeol frowned, “She shouldn’t worry herself with this.”

“If I have learned anything, it’s that she is stubborn,” Kyungsoo

offered a small smile, “Shall we begin?”

Taking a deep breath, Chanyeol nodded.

☽☾

As Minseok had said, Kyungsoo knew Park International better than

any of them. His interrogation had been quick, hardly giving Chanyeol
time to think between answers – Chanyeol supposed it was a good
technique, people tended to be more believable if they were given time
to think reasonably. Chanyeol had slipped up a few times, though held
onto Minseok’s words that the opposition were trying to strike an
emotional raise from him.

They remained within the room for almost an hour, though to

Chanyeol time seemed to drag on for far longer. He knew it was
necessary, he knew they couldn’t allow Yifan to get the upper hand
merely because Chanyeol failed to keep a lid on his emotions.

His anger had almost flared when Kyungsoo’s attention had shifted to
Minseok, asking about his relationship with Mr Kim, if it was a reason
behind his anger towards his father. Chanyeol chose instead to focus
on how tired he was with it all, with his father, with the bullshit court
case. It had gone better than he’d expected.

In the end, the entire meeting had been okay – he’d always assumed
any run in with Kyungsoo would be memorably distasteful. The latter
had left with Jongdae and Tao, and Chanyeol didn’t even try to
consider their dynamics.
Minseok still had work to finish and Chanyeol had also been leaving,
before realising the light was still on in Junmyeon’s office. Chanyeol
looked down to the bag of leftovers in his hand and changed direction
for the other’s office.

“Hey,” He said lightly, so that he wouldn’t startle the other.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon said in realisation, his voice deeper with the

time of night, “How was the fake trial?”

“It was okay,” Chanyeol answered, before holding up the bag of food,
“Hungry?”

Halfway through his conversation with Junmyeon, he glanced to the

clock on a wall with a small frown. It was almost ten in the evening –
how had Minseok ever made time for him, before? The senior
associates of the firm never seemed to leave.

“Do you have much left to do?” Chanyeol asked as Junmyeon typed,
merely out of curiosity.

“Not too much,” Junmyeon replied, “I’m actually drafting an

inquisition relating to your trial.”

“Oh?”

“Just a consideration concerning your mother, what help she may be

able to provide.”

Chanyeol paused, half-certain his heart had just stopped in his chest,
“My mom? What is there to even consider?”

Junmyeon stopped typing, glancing at Chanyeol over the top of his

computer screen, “We might put her on the witness stand?”

“I told Minseok I didn’t want her involved with this.”

Multiple times, for that matter – his mother’s condition wasn’t stable
enough for them to question her in a fucking court room, especially
considering the fact they’d literally just spent hours hammering
Chanyeol with questions, particularly because the witness stand was a
stressful place to be. His mother might not be able to handle that stress,
not with her illness, not with her constant exhaustion.

“Well,” Junmyeon continued, pursing his lips for a moment, “Minseok

was the one to give us permission to go forward with this.”

Chanyeol stood, trying to remember the ways in which he’d spent the
last couple of hours controlling his anger. He wouldn’t say he stormed
into Minseok’s office, particularly, more so that he entered without
knocking, a scowl he couldn’t shake etched onto his face – he’d told
Minseok that very afternoon that he didn’t want his mom involved in
this. He wouldn’t risk it. Not when he’d seen her struggle to string a
few sentences together without falling into a coughing fit.

“I told you I didn’t want her involved in this,” Chanyeol managed to

keep his voice calm, a surprising feat considering the feeling of
betrayal sinking in his chest.

Minseok slid off his glasses, looking up from a document in his hands,
“Sometimes, I have to think like a lawyer – and right now, I am your
lawyer.”

“So, what? You completely disregard the one thing I asked of you?”
Chanyeol sunk into the armchair, exasperated, “You fucking told me
the witness stand was a difficult place to be, and you want to put my
sick mother on it?”

“She’s essential to our defence, Chanyeol,” Minseok responded,

rubbing the area of his nose where his glasses had been sat, “If she was
to come forward about everything, all of the issues from years ago-.”

“I don’t care, Minseok,” Chanyeol interrupted, “I told you, multiple

times, I wouldn’t risk this. I asked this one thing of you, and you…
went behind my back and-.”

“Giving Junmyeon the green flag is hardly going behind your back.”
He let out a frustrated sigh – a part of him felt that he was being unfair,
Minseok had taken his case pro-bono, for free, when it would cost any
other person literal thousands for a mere week of this man’s time. But
at the same time, he’d asked Minseok not to involve her in this,
shouldn’t Minseok at least respect that? Or even consult him before he
gave Junmyeon the go-ahead?

“That’s not the point,” Chanyeol responded, defeatedly.

Minseok appeared to hesitate for a split second, “I think it’s for the
best, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol stared at the lawyer for a few moments, trying to balance his
thoughts without bias. Realistically, Minseok was right, but he’d done
exactly what Chanyeol had said he didn’t want to do and… he was
tired. Chanyeol was just tired.

“Let me talk to her, first,” Chanyeol decided, hardly happy with

himself, “I don’t want lawyers stressing her further.”

“You make it sound like we’re heartless,” Minseok tried to joke.

Chanyeol shot the lawyer a look as he left and Minseok sighed.

He was unsure where he intended to go – it was too late to visit his

mom and he didn’t want to risk waking her if he called. It could wait
until tomorrow, though Chanyeol already knew she would agree. She’d
made it clear she wanted to help, yet Chanyeol just wanted her to rest.
He hadn’t wanted to drag her into an ugly court case at the fault of
family.

It was hardly surprising that he found himself back at the lawyer’s

apartment; perhaps he needed the comfort, the familiarity, the smell. It
would take some time for his new apartment to feel like home and he
hesitated to believe how homely Minseok’s apartment felt – they
hadn’t known each other that long, this was not something he
should’ve been feeling.
Chanyeol had a talent in over-thinking.

What little frustration he felt towards Minseok was not enough to keep
himself away, it seemed, as he allowed his eyes to follow the inside of
the apartment. The first time he’d seen it, he’d been blown away, had
felt awe and disbelief – and now he felt a warmth, a familiarity in the
softness of the carpet beneath his feet and the skyline of a dark city
through the windows.

He sat himself down in front of the window where he’d sat once
before, legs crossed beneath him as he allowed himself to breathe.
From somehow crying that afternoon with his mother, and the energy
of remaining calm through the fake trial, but also his feeling of
disappointment with Minseok and the fact he had a trial to attend… He
was tired, it was mentally tiring and he wanted to stop thinking.

His anger at Minseok was partially misplaced, he was more frustrated

by the thought that Minseok was right, that they would have to drag
his mother into this purely due to his father’s unfathomable agenda.
Conceivably, part of the frustration came from the fact he knew she
would agree, because he asked – and useless, he felt useless, her health
was deteriorating and he could do nothing but watch, merely hold her
hand as she coughed out her lungs. And Minseok. Minseok was doing
all of this for him, investing so much time into him, and Chanyeol
would never be able to pay him back. Nothing he did would balance
out how much he owed Minseok, even metaphorically – how much
Minseok had been there for him when he hadn’t been able to keep
himself together like anybody else.

How worthless part of him felt, how his mother might die without ever
being proud of her only son. He’d never finished college, he’d never
tried to restart college, he hardly had a prestigious job and if it wasn’t
for Minseok he’d be struggling to pay his fucking rent. How he’d
never done anything for her to be proud of him.

He pushed himself to stand, favouring his ability to compose music

over his ability to over-think.
Chanyeol had left both his guitar and laptop here before Minseok had
offered to drive him to visit his mother. He hauled them both over to
his favoured spot in front of the window, bringing with him a polaroid
camera he’d found in his search for paper. He wondered what the
camera had been used to picture, what memories Minseok had enjoyed
enough to capture – wondered why he’d never seen any polaroid
pictures laying around the apartment.

He took a picture of the outside world as he waited for his laptop to

start up, wondering how old the dusty item in his hands truly was. The
picture came rolling from the slit in the top of the camera and
Chanyeol set it aside to develop.

His portfolio was improving, growing in content that Chanyeol could

be proud of. His commissions didn’t bring in a sufficient amount of
money, he merely did it to improve his reputation and put his name out
there. Money didn’t play a predominant role in Chanyeol’s will to
make music, it was a by-product of something he could focus on,
allow his mind to lose itself in.

It was rare that his mind thought much as he worked, and perhaps that
played reason to his love for the art. To compose, not think, to listen to
what he’d made the following day completely unaware of the routes
his mind had taken. It was easy to forget if he was focussing on a
string of chords, a choice of words or a progression of minors that
ignited a particular satisfaction in his heart.

Focussed on his laptop screen burning pixels into his retinas, Chanyeol
all but jumped when Minseok’s voice broke a momentary silence.

“Why are you still awake?”

Chanyeol glanced down to the clock on his laptop screen before he

closed it over, “I was thinking.”

“At 1am?” Minseok sounded partially sceptical.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Chanyeol didn’t have the energy to be
bitter, merely honest.

Minseok’s voice sounded closer, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Have you been home?”

“No.”

The lawyer sighed, moving closer to Chanyeol’s seated form before

sitting behind him – he then pulled the younger back against his chest,
resting his chin atop Chanyeol’s shoulder and Chanyeol allowed it to
happen, allowed the feeling of Minseok’s breath on his skin to slow his
own breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Minseok apologised, pressing a gentle kiss to Chanyeol’s

neck.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” Chanyeol couldn’t help
but reply, feeling Minseok’s frown against his neck, “You tend to
apologise in ways other than words.”

“I didn’t realise you were observing me that much.”

“You’re worth observing,” Chanyeol muttered, more to himself.

Minseok’s arms tightened around his stomach as he glanced down to

the mess of papers in Chanyeol’s lap, “What are you working on?”

“A song,” Chanyeol answered, shuffling the papers into a nice pile

atop his laptop.

“It’s 1am.”

“You weren’t here,” Chanyeol confessed, now toying with the polaroid
camera, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Another soft kiss was pressed against his neck.

Chanyeol turned the camera around, facing it towards himself and

clicking the capture button. The sound of the shutter fluttering brought
a chuckle from Minseok, and Chanyeol opted to leave the pre-
developed photo near the papers on his laptop.

“Come on,” Minseok murmured quietly, “Let’s get you to bed.”

At some point, Chanyeol wasn’t quite sure when, they fell into bed
together. Minseok’s touches were more gentle than usual, his kisses a
lot less sparse and pressed across every inch of Chanyeol his lips could
reach. It didn’t take long for Minseok to have Chanyeol on his back,
his clothes gone as he took his time tracing his lips down Chanyeol’s
chest.

They moved slow, everything a little gentler like Minseok was trying
to show his appreciation through mere touches.

Chanyeol’s gasp was quiet when Minseok’s tongue lapped across his
nipple, his back arching as Minseok trailed a hand down his side and
to his hip. When Minseok wrapped a hand around him, coaxing him to
hardness, he muted Chanyeol’s moans with his lips until Chanyeol
couldn’t help but buck up into every touch.

“Why are you-,” Chanyeol gasped, a hand reaching out to pull at

Minseok’s shirt, “Still wearing clothes?”

“I was admiring you,” Minseok murmured, his lips pressing kisses

along Chanyeol’s jaw, “Let me admire you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Chanyeol nodded anyway, biting his lip when
Minseok’s lips found their favourite place to leave marks. His hands
gripped Minseok’s shirt as the lawyer continued to stroke him and, of
course, Chanyeol wanted more – he wanted everything Minseok had to
offer.
Minseok pressed his body against Chanyeol’s, their hips pushed flush
together and Chanyeol groaned at the friction of his dick against
Minseok’s suit. He momentarily wondered how many suits of
Minseok’s he’d ruined.

The lawyer had moved onto marking Chanyeol’s chest, taking his time
as though he didn’t want to leave an inch of skin untouched.

Chanyeol was rocking his hips up against the heat above him,
completely beneath the mercy of the lips above him. When Minseok
looked back up at him, his lips were red and swollen and Chanyeol
couldn’t help the quiet whine in his throat.

“What do you want, Kitten?”

“You,” Chanyeol knew his reply wasn’t entirely sensical, “Please.”

Minseok understood, anyway, leaning up to kiss Chanyeol once more

before he rid himself of his own clothes. The first press of a slick
finger against his entrance was anticipated, yet Chanyeol gasped
anyway, his legs falling open wider for Minseok to fit between.
Minseok took his time, stretching Chanyeol slowly as he kissed the
inside of Chanyeol’s thighs softly.

The gentleness was unfamiliar to Chanyeol, it brought something

much deeper than arousal to the blood beating through his veins.

“Minseok,” Chanyeol found it hard to raise his voice above a whisper

at the third finger, “I’m ready.”

The other continued for a few more moments, before using the lube
remaining on his hand to slick his own cock. He first leaned over
Chanyeol, his hands placed at either side of Chanyeol’s head as he
pushed in – Chanyeol stared up, his own mouth hanging open in a
silent gasp as he watched the slightest scrunch of Minseok’s eyes.

He waited until Minseok bottomed out, most of the lawyer’s weight

pinning him to the bed, before wrapping his legs around the other’s
waist.

Minseok leaned down to hover his lips over Chanyeol’s, not kissing
him, merely breathing with him. Chanyeol leaned up to press his lips
against his boyfriend’s, murmuring I’m ready into the other’s mouth.

Just as everything else had been that evening, Minseok’s pulled out to
start a rhythm just as slow. Chanyeol held on to Minseok’s back,
feeling the shift of muscles with each thrust the lawyer made – it felt
far more sensual like this, each drag of Minseok’s cock against his
walls causing him to moan out without control.

Chanyeol tightened his legs around Minseok’s waist, silently urging

him to go even the slightest bit faster – Minseok surprised him with a
hard thrust and Chanyeol arched his back, neck bared as Minseok
picked up the pace.

Lips found his exposed neck and Chanyeol’s mind felt like a repeated
mess of pleas and pleasure, his nails digging into Minseok’s back just a
little harder – which merely urged Minseok on, his hips slapping
against Chanyeol’s harder with each thrust as the younger cried out, a
mixture of Minseok’s name and faster, fuck, please on his tongue.

The only relief his own aching cock found was when it pressed up
against Minseok’s stomach, the motion pulling whines from
Chanyeol’s lips. He pressed his heels into Minseok’s ass harder,
wanting nothing more than for the other man to fuck him breathless.

Minseok smirked against his skin, Chanyeol could feel it, before he
pinned the both of Chanyeol’s wrists above his head. He kept a grip on
the wrists with one hand, pressing down with his weight as he began to
slam his hips into Chanyeol – the younger rocked his hips up to meet
the thrusts, crying out loud when Minseok dragged his hips lower to
press against that spot.

He continued to rock into Chanyeol like that, drawing out a whine as

Chanyeol arched his back and rutted up against Minseok – the sounds
Chanyeol was making all but drew a growl from Minseok, the low
sound deep and prominent as Minseok fucked into him properly.

Chanyeol could feel himself edging, the pressure in his balls tightening
as he pushed back against the grip on his wrists – mainly because it
was the only thing he could do, his breathing pattern a mess of pants as
Minseok’s body slid against his, filling him good enough that he
almost didn’t want it to end.

“Minseok,” He breathed out, “I’m close-oh, please, Minseok-.”

Minseok shut him up by kissing him, a little harder than before but
more thorough, his body pressing against Chanyeol’s enough to give
his dick the friction he needed. His legs tightened around Minseok so
hard he worried, for a moment, he might have bruised the other man –
but the thought of Minseok with bruised hips from fucking him this
hard had him moaning loud, the coil releasing as he came between the
both of them.

His thighs were trembling as Minseok continued to rut into him,

murmuring praises against Chanyeol’s sweaty skin that had his heart
swelling in fondness and something not quite fathomable.

“You feel so good,” Chanyeol coaxed, his hips jerking in sensitivity,

“Fuck, Minseok, please. Come-god, come in me.”

Minseok groaned, the sound muffled when he bit down on Chanyeol’s

clavicle – causing Chanyeol to cry out, clenching around Minseok’s
cock as the other pumped into him, filling him with come as he rode
through his orgasm.

His boyfriend eventually stilled above him, breathing hard as he let go

of Chanyeol’s wrists. As he had done the time before, he kissed the
skin on Chanyeol’s wrists as though it would ease any discomfort. He
planted a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek, pulling back to smile down on
him.

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Minseok murmured.

Chanyeol looked up with wide eyes, his heart beating both from the
exertion and from the way Minseok was staring at him. With a hand
tangled in Minseok’s hair, Chanyeol pulled him down to kiss him
properly, breathing his own thank you between them as though the rest
of the world didn’t deserve to hear.

☽☾

He called his mother in the morning, making sure to ask the nurse if
she was awake – he didn’t want to interrupt what little rest she
managed to find. As he’d expected, his mother had been more than
willing to stand as a witness, stating she was prepared to do anything
to help. Though he was more than grateful for the sentiment, he
remained unhappy that they’d brought her into this.

And what would that mean for his parent’s marriage? It added more
complications onto her already-complicated health and Chanyeol felt
nothing but guilt. Standing against one’s husband in court could hardly
lead to a healthy marriage, as if the woman needed marital issues on
top of everything else.

Minseok had apologised, and Chanyeol realised his mother would

have probably involved herself with or without his consent. She’d
already asked Kyungsoo to help, and Chanyeol had almost forgotten
that the woman was a lawyer herself. She was experienced, a veteran
in the court room who was already well aware of the complications of
the witness stand – she could probably handle herself better than
anyone else.

It wasn’t until he was on his way home, a little guilty for having
neglected his best friends, that he received a text from Junmyeon. He
didn’t even remember exchanging numbers with Sehun’s boyfriend.
[‘myeon (three dollar sign emojis)]

> The preliminary hearing date has been set: next Tuesday9am.

> It should be fine, provided Wu doesn’t try to slam us with useless

subsidiaries.

> Also depends on the judge, hopefully we don’t land someone P.I
biased.

Chanyeol sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. This would all
be over, soon. He hoped. He trusted Minseok, Minseok needed his
trust, and he had to believe that everything would be fine. Though he
remained unprepared to face his own father in a court of law
(represented by his ex-boyfriend at that), he had Minseok. He was
being represented by his own boyfriend.

It was everything that could lead to disorder. At least it would be

interesting.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

this note is gonna be so long, bare with me

firstly, i'd like to apologise for how long it's taken me to update -
if you follow me on twitter, you'll know why... to everyone else,
life got a 'little' messy. which leads to my second point; most of
this chapter was written on an ipad, not my forte, definitely not
what im used to... i really hope it hasn't degraded the quality of
my writing.

lastly, thank you for 1000 kudos!! you're all wonderful people and
i hope u all have a lovely day!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST: please check out this incredible fanart
that laura did!!. the initials on the choker... anyways. enjoy!

“I don’t even have anything to wear,” Chanyeol all but whined from
within Minseok’s wardrobe.

He could hear Minseok laugh at him and he sighed, his mind running
through further excuses to get himself out of going on the shopping
trip. Minseok was trying to distract him from the impending stress of
the preliminary trial, and he appreciated it, he did, he just didn’t see
why they had to go on an excessively long shopping spree. He’d rather
spend the weekend inside. With Minseok.

“I could just go naked,” He tried, eyes narrowing at his own clothes

hanging within the wardrobe.
“I’m not entirely opposed to the suggestion.”

Chanyeol sighed, wandering out of the walk-in wardrobe to glare at his

boyfriend, “If I leave this wardrobe and you’re smirking I’m gonna-.”

“You’re going to what, Kitten?” Minseok interrupted, the smirk pulling

at his lips, “It’s bad practice to leave your sentences unfinished.”

Scowling, Chanyeol turned to continue his fruitless escapades of

whiney clothe searching when Minseok’s hand gripped his wrist,
tugging him back into the bedroom. Chanyeol wanted to roll his eyes,
to tease his boyfriend’s antiques, but one look at Minseok’s eyes halted
him. He was pressed flat against the wall, Minseok’s mouth hovering
just over his own – a kiss never came, though Minseok’s hand dipped
beneath the elastic of Chanyeol’s waistline.

Chanyeol gasped, partially in surprise but mostly due to the hand

wrapping around his cock.

Minseok remained silent, his hand stroking Chanyeol in his underwear

as he tried to keep himself in check – a thumb stroked across his slit
and Chanyeol’s back arched from the wall, his lip caught in his teeth to
mute his moans. His eyes met Minseok’s and a whimper left his throat;
the lawyer was silent, perhaps, but his entire attention was focussed on
Chanyeol.

His eyes followed the shape of Chanyeol’s lips, watched the scrunch of
Chanyeol’s eyes on a particularly hard stroke – watched the younger
come apart, a moaning mess, beneath his hand. Chanyeol partly felt
like he was on display, a piece purely for Minseok, to construct, take
apart, and the thought had a shiver running along the length of his
spine.

With Minseok’s eyes watching him so intently and his hand down his
pants, it wasn’t long before his hips were rocking against the other
man’s grip, his precum slicking Minseok’s hand. It was almost
embarrassing, it should have been embarrassing – except, Minseok
appeared nothing but proud at the fact he impacted the younger so.
His hands were clutching the material of Minseok’s shirt, his forehead
pressing against the lawyer’s neck as his hips trembled, stuttered,
Minseok’s grip tightening and pace quickening as he came against the
inside of his pants.

Minseok continued to stroke him, even as his legs threatened to

crumble in oversensitivity. Only then did his boyfriend kiss him,
kissed the remaining oxygen from his lungs as the white light of his
mind began to clear.

“Clean yourself up,” Minseok said, placing one last kiss at the corner
of his mouth, “We have shopping to do.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to fall back against the wall, his breathing
laboured, “What was that for?”

“You looked pretty.”

“I hate you,” Chanyeol muttered, unashamed of the blush painting his

cheeks.

Although he’d agreed to accompany Minseok shopping didn’t mean he

wanted to, that he didn’t know Minseok was using this as an excuse to
distract and spoil him. Chanyeol kept that in mind as he dressed,
slowly, deliberately meticulous. He could buy Minseok a gift, even the
tables a little, perhaps show Minseok he wasn’t here for materialism…
Though he enjoyed it.

Emerging into the living room, he found Minseok attired in the most
casual clothes he’d ever witnessed the other man adorn. He couldn’t
keep his feet from pausing, eyes following the sleeves of Minseok’s
sweater down to the skinny jeans tracing his thighs.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not exactly a stranger to the public,” Minseok answered as he

adjusted his hood, “I don’t plan on being featured in next week’s issue
of Kim Xiumin spotted eating ice cream in public.”
“We couldn’t have the country knowing one of its richest men prefers
mint ice cream,” Chanyeol agreed, watching Minseok slide on
sunglasses, “What an awful discovery.”

“It’s superior.”

“It tastes like toothpaste.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, “Careful, or only one of us will be enjoying

ice cream this afternoon.”

“I already brushed my teeth, thank you.”

“Brat.”

Chanyeol didn’t even try to avert his eyes from appreciating Minseok’s
thighs when the older man turned around.

It wasn’t that Chanyeol hated shopping, or buying things, or

sidestepping people in overcrowded streets – it wasn’t that he didn’t
care for it, either, because he most definitely enjoyed returning home a
few bags heavier. He’d never really expected to be led around a store,
his fingers grasped loosely by Minseok’s as they pondered over
materialism.

He still planned on buying the lawyer something; a feat proving

difficult considering the man had enough money to buy anything he
ever wanted or needed. Chanyeol was learning that it was less about
money and more about practicality, something that Minseok would
appreciate for itself and not its price tag.

Minseok wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was out to spoil
Chanyeol, buying anything that Chanyeol even remotely hinted
towards liking. Their bags were slowly growing and Chanyeol didn’t
feel too bad – Minseok seemed to be happy with the fact Chanyeol was
allowing himself to be spoiled.
“We could buy you a suit for Tuesday,” Minseok said, pausing outside
a shop window.

The preliminary hearing – Chanyeol had been trying to forget.

“I have clothes I could wear,” He replied, because, really, he had

clothes.

“Perhaps,” The lawyer responded, though he pushed open the door to

the store anyway, “We can buy you a suit, anyway.”

“I thought you had Kibum for this kind of thing,” Chanyeol pondered,
eyes running over the selection of materials he hadn’t the slightest
inkling about, “Would he be offended?”

Minseok snorted, “Who do you think owns this brand?”

“Oh,” Chanyeol let out as a distantly familiar face greeted them.

“Taemin,” Minseok addressed, smiling small, “I’m aware Kibum is

busy – I was wondering if you could help.”

“Busy,” The boy – Taemin – snorted, “His second lunch with Secretary
Kim this week, I have a feeling this goes beyond the needs of
business.”

Secretary Kim Jonghyun, Chanyeol realised; Kibum had the highest

standards of anyone he’d ever met. He tried not to stare wide-eyed at
the other. A member of government and a passive-aggressive stylist.
Incredible.

“I’ve heard,” Minseok said, before unhooking a dark suit blazer and
handing it to the other, “You’ll be able to get the measurements from
Kibum, I assume?”

Taemin nodded, taking the material, “Pretty sure he complained about

leg length the entire time, but, I’ll get them.”
After exchanging thanks and farewells, Minseok led Chanyeol out of
the tailors and onto a street growing busier with the lunch hour.
Despite Chanyeol’s previous thoughts that domesticity brought all
things dangerous and uncertain, it felt good – being able to brush
knuckles with Minseok in public, for the other man to genuinely enjoy
spending time with him… for Chanyeol to feel utterly at home
regardless of surroundings, when the lawyer was present. It was nice.

It made permanency appealing, and Chanyeol knew he’d grown far too
attached far too quickly, but how could he not when Minseok looked at
him like he was the only fucking star in the sky?

“Ice cream?” Minseok asked, adjusting his hood.

“If it’s not mint,” Chanyeol agreed, grinning when Minseok’s lips
quirked.

As they began their route towards whatever ice cream place Minseok
was craving, Chanyeol’s eyes ran over the de-coloured sign of a rather
ambiguous store front. He used their entwined fingers to tug the
lawyer into the store, taking in its vintage insides as Minseok followed.
Chanyeol wasn’t particularly certain what the store was supposed to
sell, but he wandered down an aisle regardless.

It sold a little bit of everything, Chanyeol gathered as his eyes glanced

from comics to clothes. A perfect place for someone with no idea what
to gift.

What was he even supposed to buy for someone like Minseok? Socks?
Tea cups? Chanyeol was left rather clueless, allowing his feet to
wander him aimlessly through the store. Eventually, his eyes grew
distracted by a collection of cameras on display – cameras of all eras,
of all designs and uses. Minseok already owned an old, dusty version
of one of the polaroid cameras on display, though Minseok’s camera
failed to develop pictures vibrantly. Everyone could find a use for a
camera… probably. At least this one would work properly.
He glanced over his shoulder to see his boyfriend peering through
books that looked bigger than any one man should read, before picking
up the small camera box and heading to the desk to pay.

Minseok glanced at his bag curiously when they exited the shop.

“What did you buy?” He asked.

“Don’t buy mint ice cream and I’ll consider telling you, Mr Kim.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Minseok mumbled, though he agreed to

freeing them both from the mint ice cream.

Predictably, Chanyeol was the worst person to leave the power of

flavour picking.

Minseok had sent him to buy the ice cream, any ice cream, claiming a
table and dumping their bags as he waited. In a slight panic, Chanyeol
ordered six scoops of ice cream flavours he’d never even heard of,
staring at the poor girl holding the ice scream scoop with wide eyes.

And one mint scoop. He wasn’t entirely cruel.

“Do you plan on eating all of that?” Minseok asked amusedly when he
returned.

“Sehun probably eats more than this to himself, in one sitting.”

The lawyers nose scrunched up in reply, and Chanyeol laughed. He

handed over the bag containing the camera, figuring it would hardly be
a surprise. It was just a little something he’d wanted to do – it wasn’t
like Minseok had to appreciate it, or would even care for something so
mundane. And yet, Chanyeol had wanted to buy it for him anyway.

“It’s for me?” Minseok questioned, waiting for Chanyeol’s affirmative

before peering inside, “A camera?”

“Your other one was left neglected,” Chanyeol explained, instead

focussing on the ice cream, “Dusty in some clutter cupboard, and I
figured, why not have a new camera… for new memories? I guess it’s
kind of the same, but this one is just better because your other one was
ancient and honestly-.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok interrupted his rambling.

Chanyeol glanced up, “What?”

“I love it,” Minseok informed, and Chanyeol really didn’t want to

think about the things the look in Minseok’s eyes did to his stomach,
before the lawyer leaned across the small table and kissed him.

“I’m glad,” Chanyeol said, a little relieved, voice a little small.

“I always did enjoy photography.”

He frowned, “Why did you never use the other one?”

“Busy,” Minseok answered, taking a small spoon of the weird green

ice cream, “Never had the right person to photograph.”

Chanyeol mentally refused to blush for the second time that day, “You
can take pictures of other mundane things. Like trees. Or the sky.”

“I know,” Minseok’s smile was small, “But, you’re better.”

Instead of rolling his eyes at his boyfriend, Chanyeol, alternatively,

attempted to ignore how hard he was falling for the man sat across
from him. Perhaps it was a little frightening, to have so much invested
in someone – even if said person enjoyed mushrooms with their
breakfast and mint ice cream elsewhere, Chanyeol couldn’t help the
way his insides came apart in adoration.

Chanyeol spent the car journey home looking through the things
Minseok had purchased, finding mostly clothes he’d probably leave at
Minseok’s apartment eventually. One thing did catch his eye –
earrings, simple and silver, taking the shape of musical notes. He
hadn’t even seen the lawyer buy them and wondered when the latter
had even noticed his ears were pierced. The diamonds following the
curves of silver probably cost more than Chanyeol could think to make
in a year.

Glancing over at Minseok, Chanyeol, albeit cliché, felt his heart

clench.

He never wore earrings, but his ears were pierced all the same – it was
a nice gesture and Chanyeol didn’t hesitate to insert the metal through
his ears.

His apartment was devoid of both his friends by the time he and
Minseok returned, the latter carrying the majority of bags despite
Chanyeol’s protests. Because, of course Minseok was a real
gentleman, of course Minseok would spend a ridiculous amount of
money on him and walk him to his door, bags in hand.

Minseok appeared oddly fitting in Chanyeol’s bedroom, his casual

clothes hardly abrupt against the modernity of his surroundings.
Chanyeol didn’t care to be discreet as he leaned against the door of his
bedroom, eyes scanning across his boyfriend in unbridled appreciation.
The lawyer placed the bags down to one side, momentarily distracted
as he peered around the bedroom.

“Do you have any other plans today?” Minseok asked, raising an
eyebrow when he realised he was being watched.

Chanyeol shook his head, “Why?”

“Good,” The lawyer replied, leaning up on his toes to plant a kiss atop
Chanyeol’s mouth.

Unable to stop himself, Chanyeol smiled into the kiss, allowing his
hands to find purchase on Minseok’s neck as he led the younger across
the room and to the bed. Chanyeol found himself sprawled out
completely, Minseok straddling his lap as he licked into the younger’s
mouth. His hands travelled down Minseok’s back, tracing the curves of
the lawyer’s muscles through his shirt – he hesitated momentarily,
before cupping Minseok’s ass and squeezing.
Chuckling, Minseok’s mouth travelled along his jaw; the combination
of his boyfriend’s mouth and the way they rocked together had
Chanyeol’s breath stuttering in his throat.

“Piercings are a good look on you,” Minseok murmured, his teeth

tugging lightly at the silver in his ears.

Heat flushed through Chanyeol, and oh, he’d never realised how
sensitive his ears were before. Minseok licked a stripe up the shell of
his ear and he shuddered, hands gripping Minseok’s ass even harder –
pulling them flush together, causing the two of them to groan in
unison.

Slowly, their clothes began to pile together on Chanyeol’s bedroom

floor.

Minseok was now straddling his bare thighs, his hardening cock
pressing against Chanyeol’s hip as he kissed Chanyeol breathless. The
younger pulled away, his face flushed and lips swollen as his own dick
strained against Minseok’s ass as they continued to rock together,
intimate but very much satisfactory.

“Kitten,” Minseok began, a shiver running down Chanyeol’s spine,

“Perhaps, you could fuck me.”

Chanyeol paused, eyes glancing up from Minseok’s kissed red lips,

“Are… you sure?”

His boyfriend rutted particularly hard against him in answer, and

Chanyeol groaned out at the friction between his dick and Minseok’s
ass. He nodded, reaching across to his bedside drawer to retrieve the
lube – a feat proven difficult with Minseok straddling his lap. He
handed the bottle to Minseok, a little unsure how he’d prefer things to
occur.

He’d never thought much about their positions during sex – he knew
he preferred to bottom, and Minseok preferred to top; but there was
something exhilarating to be found in the fact that Minseok wanted
Chanyeol to fuck him.

Minseok merely poured the lube onto Chanyeol’s fingers, guiding his
hand down between them and to his ass. Chanyeol didn’t have time to
hesitate as Minseok kissed him, his finger sliding into the tight heat
slowly. His own cock was leaking between them as he pumped his
finger into Minseok, the only sign of Minseok’s reaction was the
hitched breathing, the slight swaying of his hips as Chanyeol worked
him open.

When Chanyeol added a second finger, Minseok’s forehead pressed

against the crook of his neck, his breathing growing uneven as the
seconds passed – Chanyeol knew the discomfort of being stretched
when your body wasn’t used to it, he wanted to make Minseok feel
good, wanted to be good to Minseok. Good for Minseok.

At three fingers, Chanyeol had shifted them both so Minseok could lay
down – he’d been straining his thighs, before, all but riding Chanyeol’s
fingers in an image Chanyeol would never be able to un-see. Chanyeol
kept the pace slow, scissoring Minseok and pressing deeper until he
heard the moan escape the lawyer’s lips.

Chanyeol might have been the one to finger his boyfriend open, to
fuck him, yet not an ounce of him felt like he was in control of the
situation. Minseok was half-lidded, murmured praises bringing the
blush to Chanyeol’s ears and Chanyeol wanted to be good.

At four fingers, a sheen of sweat was causing strands of Minseok’s hair

to stick to his forehead and Chanyeol considered the thought that it
was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. The lawyer laid
breathless, his eyes scrunching in slight pain and pleasure as he held
Chanyeol’s free hand.

Eventually, Minseok placed a hand on Chanyeol’s chest and pushed

him to lay against his headboard – he then moved to straddle Chanyeol
once more, his hand reaching down to slick lube across Chanyeol’s
dick.
With hands placed atop Chanyeol’s shoulders, Minseok began to lower
himself onto Chanyeol’s cock. Chanyeol held Minseok’s hips, aiding
the lawyer to move slowly – they both gasped when Chanyeol’s tip
pressed against Minseok’s ass, and they both moaned as Chanyeol’s
head finally pushed in.

Chanyeol was louder, even from where it was muffled as he placed

kisses along Minseok’s clavicle. His thumbs rubbed circles into
Minseok’s hips as the lawyer seated himself, and he began to doubt
how long he’d be able to last like this.

He took a shuddering breath when Minseok had fully seated himself,

his muscles tense to prevent himself from rutting up into his boyfriend;
his mind felt afloat, pleasure curling like stars in his stomach as
Minseok breathed a little heavier, fingers carding slowly through
Chanyeol’s hair like he was the one who needed comforting.

“So full,” Minseok murmured, pressing a kiss to Chanyeol’s forehead,

“You feel so good, Princess.”

Chanyeol groaned as Minseok experimentally moved his hips,

Minseok’s walls clenching around him tightly – it started slow, a
swivel of Minseok’s hips, Chanyeol’s grip on the lawyer’s waist
tightening as he fought to hold himself together.

As Minseok began to rock against him, Chanyeol moaned louder,

almost yelling out when Minseok began to ride him properly. He
supported Minseok’s weight the best he could, something proving
difficult with the pleasure searing through him and quaking his
muscles. Minseok felt so good, so tight, and Chanyeol could feel
himself slipping, his grasp on reality shifting.

“Fuck me,” Minseok groaned, dropping himself down onto Chanyeol’s

cock harder, “C’mon, Kitten, make me come.”

He complied, his hips snapping upwards and pulling the loudest groan
from Minseok yet – and when Chanyeol found the right angle,
Minseok spasmed around him, his nails dragging lines across
Chanyeol’s shoulders. Chanyeol’s hips faltered, the coiling pleasure
almost too much as he fucked up into his boyfriend. His moans were
growing incomprehensible and he felt an utter mess.

“Minseok,” He let out in an almost-whine, “I’m gonna – I’m so close.”

Minseok clenched around him, hushing him when he let out a sob,
“Not yet, Kitten, just a little longer. Touch me.”

And so Chanyeol did, wrapping his hand around Minseok’s leaking

cock between them – he kept his grip tight, Minseok all but fucking
into his fist as he rode Chanyeol harder.

“Please, please,” Chanyeol whined, desperate, his cock aching, “I need

to – Minseok, shit, I can’t-.”

“Come for me, Princess,” Minseok managed to gasp out, “You’ve done
so well.”

Chanyeol allowed himself to finally chase release, rutting his hips

harder into Minseok as he groaned loud – when Minseok tangled a
hand in his hair, his hips swivelling as he pulled Chanyeol’s head back
to kiss him harshly, Chanyeol cried out into the other’s mouth,
pleasure snapping through him as he came into Minseok’s heat.

Minseok rode him through his orgasm and Chanyeol tightened his
hand around Minseok’s cock, stroking him until the lawyer spilled
between them, come coating both of their stomachs. His boyfriend
continued to kiss him, even as Chanyeol’s moans grew quiet and high
pitched and every bit whiney.

He was unsure how much of the sweat coating his skin was his or
Minseok’s – and figured it hardly mattered when there was come
cooling where it had splashed against his stomach. He gingerly pulled
out of Minseok, who collapsed next to him atop the bed; they
continued to breathe in the silence, allowing their lungs to recover
from the exertion in sync.
“I need to change these sheets,” Chanyeol breathed into the silence,
skin tingling in familiar ecstasy.

Minseok laughed, airy and quiet, “Now you know how it feels.”

“You have a cleaner,” Chanyeol retorted, nudging his boyfriend with

his leg, “That doesn’t count.”

“We need to shower, first,” Minseok pushed himself up, looking down
at Chanyeol with a fond smile.

Chanyeol groaned.

☽☾

Chanyeol awoke to find Minseok, sat to one side of the sofa and eating
cereal, holding the gaze of Baekhyun – who sat at the other side of the
sofa, his legs folded beneath his chin as he watched Minseok eat. He
watched his boyfriend and friend for a moment, realising with a small
smile that Minseok was wearing his clothes. It was a nice change. Not
so frighteningly domestic.

He cleared his throat.

Minseok glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips, “Good morning,

Kitten.”

Wearing his clothes, eating his food – Chanyeol felt wholly content.

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, “Did you stay here last night?”

“No,” Chanyeol replied, deadpan, “He broke in this morning to eat our
food and steal my clothes.”
He ignored his friends heart-eyes as he sat between them on the sofa,
deflating into the cushions with his morning-hazed mind. Minseok
shifted slightly, moving just enough for their thighs to press together –
the lawyer then continued to eat as Chanyeol began to wake up, his
eyes feeling puffy from the hours of sleeping.

It wasn’t long before Minseok finished, pushing himself up and

wandering into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows when he heard the
lawyer begin to wash up.

“He’s sweet when he’s in a good mood,” Chanyeol said, more to

himself.

His friend snorted, “And when he’s not?”

“Hot as hell.”

Baekhyun probably rolled his eyes, but Chanyeol was distracted by the
reappearance of his boyfriend. Minseok picked up a bag Chanyeol
hadn’t realised had been sitting on the arm chair, before crossing the
room and placing a soft kiss atop Chanyeol’s forehead. Baekhyun
might have cooed, but Chanyeol chose within that moment to ignore
him.

“I have to go,” Minseok started, regretfully, “Would you prefer I pick

you up Tuesday morning?”

He’d almost forgotten, “Oh. Uh.”

“Or, would you prefer staying with me Monday night?” Minseok

continued, one hand gently pushing through Chanyeol’s hair, “I may
be working late, though.”

Chanyeol nodded, and Minseok leaned down to kiss him goodbye. The
lawyer then left, wearing Chanyeol’s clothes and his own suit in a
damn bag. He watched the other disappear through the front door, his
bottom lip worried between his teeth; he didn’t feel as bad as he’d
assumed he might, with the seconds until the court date falling away
like dead leaves.

It was likely Minseok he had to thank for that.

Seeing Minseok in his clothes was a sight Chanyeol could grow

familiar with – it was a warm feeling, satisfactory without fear of it
slipping through his fingers.

“What’s Tuesday?” Baekhyun asked, moving to lay his head in

Chanyeol’s lap.

Chanyeol glanced down at his friend with a half-shrug, “Prelim

hearing.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

“I could feel better, but I could feel much worse.”

Baekhyun looked up at him in consideration, “It seems serious.

Between you both, I mean.”

“Maybe,” He responded, “How are things with Yixing?”

“Interesting,” Baek replied, grinning up at him, “He’s good. Like, as a

person, you know? And he’s a dancer, so you know, those hip thr-.”

Chanyeol shoved Baekhyun from his lap without regret, standing up

and grumbling ‘I need to shower’ as he stepped over his friend’s
sprawled out form atop the floor.

☽☾

Unsurprisingly, Chanyeol had remained an anti-fan of the courtroom.

The morning had approached so quickly he hardly remembered the
past couple of days. A cocktail of anticipation and worry often had that
effect – Minseok had been a key comforter, assuring him that not much
could derail the hearing that morning. And if it did, Kim Xiumin was
prepared, Chanyeol knew that, yet one simple side track of thoughts
made him feel sick.

It wasn’t that law school had been particularly awful, though he’d
never been a fan of the betraying competitiveness; how easy his
classmates would throw each other to the dirt at the chance of extra
credit. He’d never been fond of the power dynamics within the court
itself, the need to appease a judge and a jury he’d probably never see
again. He found nothing appealing to be found within vocal
bargaining, persuasive speech leaving tongues trained in money.

Sitting there, behind a wooden desk below the Judge resurfaced an

array of nostalgia he’d never enjoyed – and would probably never
enjoy.

Despite his own unease, Minseok was far more relaxed within the
courtroom of distrust. Before they’d even exited the car, Minseok had
squeezed his hand and reminded Chanyeol that it would be okay. That
Chanyeol could trust him.

Minseok was a calculative man, observant, and that’s why he did so

well within such circumstances.

Playing the accused was not something Chanyeol could say he’d ever
experienced before. It was rather mundane and everything he had
expected it to be – his name, his plea, the declaration that any further
trial would be dependant on the evidence provided. The thing about
preliminary hearings was that it could be the end, finished, the trial
dismissed due to a lack of evidence.

As much as Chanyeol hoped this would be his last appearance in court,

when had he ever been so lucky before?
Junmyeon was sat in the first row, behind them, Sehun at his side;
Baekhyun had sent him a flurry of good luck texts, he had a class that
morning with attendance already on the edge of dismissal. Lastly, his
father sat at a separate desk to the right, Yifan sat aside him with an air
of superiority. Or, rather, narcissism.

Chanyeol exhausted half of his attention on refusing to look in their

direction – a waste, considering he had no option but to watch Yifan as
the man opened the case. Of course, his opening spiel was nothing but
praise for his boss, and Chanyeol’s petty side wanted nothing more
than to tune out.

“I also find it relevant to mention,” Yifan eventually said, after his ‘Mr
Park is one of the most reputable citizens of this country’ bullshit,
“The leeway Park Chanyeol has been granted – he was out of custody
and without bond, something unacceptable considering the charges he
may be facing.”

Minseok, of course, remained silent. There was an appropriate time to

speak, regardless of Yifan’s accusations.

“And though there were no witnesses for this unjustified assault on Mr

Park, I would like to bring forth a case to dismiss the authenticity of
the defendant’s sole witness claim.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help the way he glanced up in shock, hardly

expecting Yifan to target his mother already – of course, they were
aware of the witnesses to be present, Chanyeol just hadn’t expected
them to dismiss her before she’d even said a word. Yifan’s approach
seemed to be more direct, abrupt… Less calculated.

“On what grounds?” The Judge, an older woman with rather sharp
features, questioned.

“Medical, your honour,” Yifan answered, retrieving a collection of

papers from the desk, “Mrs Park is currently beneath the influence of a
variation of medication, many of which render the conscious thought
unprincipled. I don’t believe Mrs Park’s recollection of events will be
one-hundred percent reliable.”

He felt the beginnings of anger prickling beneath his skin – his father
was completely willing to drag his mom into the dirt, to disregard her
as mentally capable when Chanyeol knew she was mentally
comprehensible. She may have had moments in which she struggled to
talk, but he’d yet to witness unprincipled speech. It was complete
bullshit.

“Objection,” Minseok called, the calmest interruption Chanyeol had

ever witnessed in court, “Do you have medical evidence for this
claim?”

“I do, actually,” Yifan walked towards the Judge’s bench, holding the
papers out as an offer, “A medical report, conducted by the doctor
under which Mrs Park is a patient.”

A doctor his father had paid, to look after her at the Park residence – a
doctor under his father’s payroll, able to bias any argument for medical
opinion to favour his father. It wasn’t fair, nor just, but it was exactly
his father’s form of retaliation; and Chanyeol was angry, angry that his
father would so easily do this to her, that he’d been corrupt for so long
such a thing was no problem.

And Chanyeol wanted to wipe the smug smile from Yifan’s face.

He didn’t realise he’d been gripping the edge of the desk until Minseok
spared him a warning glance; he relaxed his arms, urging himself to
appear calm. Minseok had a fucking talent.

There was a brief silence in the courtroom as the Judge scanned the
file Yifan had handed over, her brow creasing slightly before she
sighed.

“Mr Kim, Mr Wu – approach the bench.”

The pair of lawyers approached the Judge’s bench and there was a
lapse of quiet, though tense, words. Yifan appeared to bristle slightly,
through which Chanyeol assumed something was being said in his
favour – the taller lawyer was the first to leave, though Minseok
lingered a moment to bow his head in thanks.

“I will need time to read and consider this report,” The Judge
announced, before looking at Minseok, “Mr Kim, you have until we
reconvene to consider your response or submit something of your own.
Court adjourned.”

The room seemed to stand in unison, the Judge disappearing from

sight almost as quick as Minseok did. He already had his phone in
hand, prepared to make a phone call. Or three. Minseok was set in
lawyer mode, his gait and tone professional, his smiles to please and
his words to persuade. They had yet to present their own case, but
Yifan had thrown them a rather dangerous curveball.

Chanyeol disliked admitting it, but a lot of their case had been built
around his mother’s statement.

He let a long breath, turning on his seat to face Sehun and Junmyeon.

Sehun offered him a smile, “Wu somehow turned into a bigger dick,
huh?”

Nodding, Chanyeol glanced to ‘Myeon, “What do you think he’s

doing?”

“Minseok?” Junmyeon asked, and he nodded, “Most likely following

up hearsay, probably someone involved with medicine – hopefully a
doctor.”

“You should probably step out,” Sehun suggested, shrugging, “Take a

breather. You don’t know how long this might drag on for.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing to do just that. He didn’t even spare his

accusers a glance, figuring he owed them nothing as he left the
courtroom. It somehow felt easier to breathe past those wooden doors,
the air flowing to his lungs and clearing his mind. Things could have
been progressing worse, the trial hadn’t even started properly and
Yifan was attempting to dismiss their witness – they still had to file
through the entire assault case and recollection of events.

He retrieved his phone, finding the correct name before tapping call.
The dull call tone felt unending, until it stopped, though no one greeted
him.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” She croaked, sounding anything but, “Aren’t you supposed
to be busy?”

“Adjourned, for now,” Chanyeol informed, taking a seat on one of the

benches outside the courtroom, “He’s trying to dismiss you as a viable
witness”

“I know. I informed Minseok he would try to do that.”

Minseok had been prepared, and Chanyeol had no idea – he just hoped
the lawyer was calling the right people.

Chanyeol’s sigh was quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“People change, I see that now,” His mom replied, her hoarse voice
weak over the static of the call, “He’s no longer the man I fell in love
with – but, he is the product of the man I fell out of love with. It’s not
the end of the world.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked, prompting a more normalised path

of conversation.

His mother couldn’t attend, even as a witness – her condition wouldn’t

allow it, meaning her statement had to be given in the form of a
declared written statement. Chanyeol assumed the Judge already had
the statement, had perhaps already read the recollection in preparation
for the prelim. It was up to Minseok to validate said statement.

He didn’t see Minseok again until the court began to reconvene, the
lawyer offering nothing but a small smile to ease Chanyeol’s worry.

“Have you done what you needed to do, Mr Kim?” The Judge asked
after the courtroom fell silent.

Minseok offered her his sly professional smile, “Yes, your honour.
Two further witnesses, I do believe they have just arrived.”

“Two?” The Judge asked, perplexed.

“Doctor Choi, Mrs Park’s doctor before she was wrongfully

discharged,” Minseok answered, and Yifan practically bristled, “And,
nurse Kim Yerim – for a later defence.”

“Very well, let us hear from this Doctor Choi.”

Chanyeol vaguely remembered the face of the doctor who now took to
the witness stand, his aura care-free as he stated his name and pledged
to speak the whole truth and nothing but the truth. His words were
clear and precise, and eventually Minseok stood to question him.

“Doctor Choi,” He began, leaning back against the front of Chanyeol’s

desk, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. When did you last
see Mrs Park? And, in your medical opinion, how was she?”

“I last saw Mrs Park a week ago. Her condition had been deteriorating,
as predicted – I had been adamant that she remain within our care,
though Mr Park refused to even consider my opinion.”

Minseok shot a quick look in Mr Park’s direction, unreadable, before

continuing, “And her mental state, had it also been deteriorating?”

Dr Choi shook his head, “Not to my knowledge, her illness had yet to
cause any significant damage to her mentality – other than stress and
worry, of course.”
“And the medication? Is it known to be detrimental for the mind?”

“No,” The doctor then frowned towards the accuser’s table, “I would
like to know how the medical report came to be – there are no proven
occurrences that this medication has ever obscured a patient’s mind.”

“I see,” Minseok hummed in fake thought, “There are no theories to

support why Mrs Park’s recollection may be unreliable?
Unprincipled?”

“Mr Kim, there is not even one medical journal to suggest the
possibility – such a claim is something that demands research, as a
doctor I have a responsibility to warn my patients of all possible side
effects, especially concerning something that may damage my patient’s
mind.”

“Thank you for your time, Dr Choi. No further questions.”

The Judge, who had been listening closely until this point, then sighed,
“It’s unfortunate that my decision must be rushed – it is one doctor’s
opinion against another’s, and I have chosen to allow the court to hear
Mrs Park’s statement. I will decide for myself the value of these
words.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his deflated sigh of relief.

Mrs Park’s letter left the courtroom in a silent shock – Chanyeol could
feel it, his father’s anger, Yifan’s patience, Minseok’s mild satisfaction.
Of course, there was nothing in the letter Chanyeol hadn’t known,
hadn’t been told before; his mother had not been quiet about her
regrets, about the things she should’ve done. Hearing it a second time
did not aid Chanyeol in digesting the words, though, and he was left
feeling a little hollow. Bare, for the entire courtroom to see.

There were few people within the courtroom that knew him for him,
yet they knew about sections of his life that had impacted and changed
him permanently – it wasn’t a nice feeling, being on display like this,
allowing countless strangers into the privacy of his own life when he’d
remained quiet about it for so long.

His mother had mentioned their estrangement, his father’s aggression,

the strain, their reconciliation – her illness, how she new she’d been
wrong, but had been too blind to stand against his father, and how she
was attempting to rebuild those bridges. She also discussed her belief
that Chanyeol had not done the deed claimed by the accused, that his
father had told her they’d had a scuffle. A scuffle was not a common
assault misdemeanour.

She called her husband a liar, a man blind to anything other than his
own wants. A failure of a father.

Chanyeol had averted his gaze as Minseok read the letter aloud, stared
at his hands in his lap and tried to ignore the furious glare his father
attired – tried to ignore the heavy-set numbness in his stomach when
his mother’s letter mentioned she’d spend what little time she had left
loving her son the way a mother should.

“To finalise my defence,” Minseok announced as the courtroom

settled. “I would like to call forward Kim Yerim to the witness stand.”

The face that took to the witness stand was vaguely familiar within
Chanyeol’s mind, though from where he was unsure – Minseok had
said she was a nurse, so it was possible he knew her face in passing. It
felt like a little more than that, somewhat more personal.

It was with a memorable twinge to his nose that he remembered – the

night in the hospital his father had punched him, there had been a night
shift nurse present who ensured his nose was not broken. Chanyeol
was certain it was the same nurse, after which he’d found himself at
Baekhyun’s. But, how could Minseok possibly know that? How could
he possibly know which medical staff had been present?

“Ms Yerim, it is to my knowledge that you work at the same hospital

as Dr Choi. Correct?”
She cleared her throat, “Correct.”

“It is also to my knowledge that you’ve seen both Mr Park and his son
once before. Correct?”

“Correct.”

Minseok then nodded, “And, under what circumstances did you see
them?”

“I, um… I was working my usual late shift when I was distracted by a
minor disturbance,” The nurse looked from Chanyeol to Mr Park, “I
saw that man punch the defendant, I then made sure the poor boy
hadn’t broken anything.”

“Did the defendant hit Mr Park first? Was Mr Park’s reaction mere self
defence?”

The nurse shook her head, “The man – Mr Park? – seemed rather
aggressive. I don’t think he liked what the defendant had said.”

“Thank you, Ms Yerim,” Minseok shifted his attention to the Judge,

“Just a day prior to the accused assault, the witness claims to have seen
Mr Park, unprovoked, assault his own son in the very same hospital. If
anything, the defendant was the one to rise in self-defence, not Mr
Park – the idea that this man, a valued member of society, has made
such claims is undeniably unacceptable. I do believe Mr Park’s
reputation will be in tatters after this trial, your honour.”

The Judge offered no comment to Minseok’s words, though she didn’t

appear awfully off put by them, either – Chanyeol was unsure how the
trial was progressing, there was no jury to read the faces of, only a
Judge whose decision it would be to progress the trial further.
Minseok’s defence was strong, convincing and he hadn’t even finished
his case yet.

Chanyeol was yet to take the witness stand.

His palms had grown clammy in apprehension, wiping them against
his suit pants a mere temporary aid as he approached the stand at the
front of the court. Where he’d felt on display before, through personal
information and false accusations, only worsened here – he tried to
ignore the faces in front of him, tried to focus on staying calm. He
needed to stay calm.

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?”

Chanyeol nodded once, “I swear.”

“Chanyeol,” Yifan began like they were friends, “Your relationship

with your father, was it a good one?”

“No,” He replied, tone tight.

Yifan clasped his hands together, “Could that be, perhaps, why you
attacked him that night?”

“I didn’t attack him.”

“Was he abusive?” Yifan continued, an attempt to shine a brighter light

on Mr Park.

Except, Chanyeol had been prepared, “Not physically.”

Pausing, Yifan’s eyes narrowed slightly, “So the assault was revenge
for the years of mental strain?”

Chanyeol took a deep breath, regaining his foothold in calmness, “It

was self-defence, after he slammed a fist into my face.”

“Lying on the witness stand is illegal, Chanyeol.”

“I’m not lying,” He said, just as monotone.

“And your relationship with Mr Kim, could that have also played a
factor?”
Unconsciously, Chanyeol’s eyes widened – he’d known Yifan to be a
dick, but he’d never expected this. Chanyeol didn’t care that their
relationship had been outed, Chanyeol wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality
nor would he ever be ashamed of dating Minseok. But, that wasn’t
anywhere near the point – the point was that Minseok was one of the
most appraised lawyers within the fucking city, his reputation was a
clean slate the man had worked hard to build and being outed like this
was only bad for business.

Chanyeol couldn’t be responsible for damaging Minseok’s reputation –

with his reputation came his business, his work, his clients, everything
Minseok stood for. The country’s view of Minseok as a lawyer could
not be impacted by his decision to represent Chanyeol pro-bono.

But, as Yifan had stated, lying on the witness stand was illegal.
Punishable by perjury.

The courtroom seemed to have fallen into a shocked silence.

“Objection!” Minseok saved him from the decision, standing with his
hands braced atop the desk, “Irrelevancy, your honour. I don’t believe
Mr Wu should target personal standings amidst his failure to accept
defeat.”

Yifan spun on his feet, “I don’t think I’m the-.”

“That’s quite enough, Mr Kim, Mr Wu,” The Judge interrupted, tone

scalding, “Do you have any more questions for the defendant?”

“No, your honour,” Yifan answered, stalking back to his desk.

“And you, Mr Kim?”

“Mrs Park covered anything I could ask, your honour,” Minseok

replied, sitting down calmly.

“Very well. This is a mess of a situation and frankly, Mr Park, it’s hard
to believe the things you have been accused of in return of your
accusation,” The Judge said to his father and Chanyeol found it a little
difficult to breathe, “However, I do believe them and quite rightly I’m
disgusted.”

Chanyeol glanced towards Minseok, his heart beating too fast to

fathom within his chest – Minseok’s face was blank, as expected,
though his eyes were quite literally shining. A good thing, perhaps.

The Judge had chosen to believe his mother’s words, a relief so

thorough Chanyeol could feel it calm his veins.

“I am dismissing this case, and your claim against your son,” The
Judge stated and Chanyeol’s eyes widened, his ears barely registering
the words that followed, “And, frankly, I believe your son could
pursue his own case against you – that is a decision for the defendant
alone.”

She looked to him in expectancy, but Chanyeol was still frozen in his
seat.

“May I talk with my client?” Minseok asked, his voice bringing

Chanyeol’s mind back into the room.

“You have two minutes.”

“Chanyeol,” Minseok spoke quietly, leaning in to be heard, “This is

your chance to retaliate, to bring forth a case that could destroy your
father.”

It may have been ridiculous, except, Chanyeol had no desire to pursue

prosecution against his father. Those were things of the past, things
he’d learned to move on and forget – he wouldn’t forgive his father,
but today alone had mentally exhausted him. He never wanted to see
the man again.

To any other, it could feel like losing, like giving up and accepting
what had happened – but, it felt like finality, like leaving behind all the
toxic parts of himself. If that was what giving up felt like, then he
didn’t care, the quicker that man left his life the better. He preferred it
this way.

Chanyeol shook his head, hoping Minseok would understand, “I would

rather not.”

Minseok appeared hesitant, “Are you sure? He deserves everything

bad coming his way.”

“Can’t we just… finish this mess today?”

Realisation flooded Minseok’s eyes and he smiled, secretive and small,

just between them, “Okay.”

The lawyer straightened himself out, purposefully ignoring the desk at

which his father and Yifan appeared a very unhappy duo. He took his
time, fastening the buttons at the front of his suit and looking every bit
as suave as he did so.

“Well, Mr Kim?” The Judge prompted.

“My client has chosen not to pursue anything further, today.”

The Judge was momentarily surprised, “I see. If that’s all, then this
case is dismissed – I’d like to thank the witnesses and any other jurors
involved. Court adjourned.”

That was it. It was done.

They’d won.

The case had been dismissed and for once Chanyeol had won. This
trial could have been stretched on for weeks, he could have been
facing assault charges… it was rare such cases were dismissed in a
pre-lim stage and yet… it hardly felt possible. It wasn’t like things like
this happened to him.

Only after the majority of the room had stood to leave did Minseok
smile genuinely, accepting a handshake from Junmyeon and probably
some form of teasing from Sehun. The gratefulness that surged
through his chest was almost unfathomable, and he reached forward to
brush his fingers against Minseok’s, lightly.

He bid Sehun and Junmyeon farewell, accepting a far too tight hug
from his best friend before he climbed into Minseok’s car – he was
tired, mentally, and entirely thankful towards Minseok. He still wanted
to disappear for a moment, to refresh his mind and accept what had
just happened. It had gone well. They’d won and Minseok was fucking
wonderful.

“You know,” Chanyeol murmured after Minseok seated himself in the

car, “The media will find out about what Yifan said – that courtroom
was full.”

“You mean, find out about us?” Minseok questioned, “Does it bother
you?”

“No,” Chanyeol frowned, meeting his eyes, “That’s not what I meant.
It should bother you – you’re the one in the spotlight, the one the
media will target.”

“Let them gossip, Chanyeol. It’s all they are good for.”

“They’re gonna take one look at me and…” He deflated, averting his

gaze beyond the window.

“And?” His boyfriend prompted.

“People like you don’t fall in love with people like me.”

Minseok sighed, “If that came from anyone else’s mouth, I’d be a little
mad.”

Chanyeol glanced down when Minseok reached for his hand, “Why?”

“You’re telling me who I’m supposed to love. That’s not anyone’s

decision,” Minseok’s thumb traced along the back of his hand, “Not
yours, and definitely not pathetic businessmen’s who’ll come crawling
back to me with their tails between their legs because they need me.
You’re every bit as worthy for me as I am for you.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol responded, deflated and feeling a tad ridiculous,

“I’m sorry – I just don’t want this affecting your work.”

“It won’t,” Minseok assured, offering a small smile, “My clients are
loyal and my skills dictate my business, not my personal preferences.”

“Thank you,” He blurted out, “For everything you’ve ever done. For
representing me, when you could be busy working for someone who
paid you.”

“I don’t care about money,” Minseok responded, “I care about you.”

Chanyeol almost huffed, “I’m still thankful. I mean it.”

Minseok placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and Chanyeol wanted to

melt into the leather of the car seat. Instead, he let himself lean against
the lawyer, thankful that the windows for the back of the car were
tinted dark – perhaps he didn’t need to disappear to refresh his mind,
perhaps all he needed was Minseok.

“I know.”
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

final chapter... finally

shorter than usual, later than usual... thank you all so much for
reading and commenting; it honestly gave me the motivation to
continue writing, for which i am forever grateful *heart emoji*

you're all wonderful and i don't deserve any of u

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chanyeol had predicted the media outrage the moment the words had
left Yifan’s mouth – and your relationship with Mr Kim, could that
have also played a factor? One bitter, petty question and he knew
repercussions would follow. Of course, that had been Yifan’s sole
intention, his slipping grip holding on to the case with vicious claws;
all but ripping through irrelevancy.

In all honesty, he hadn’t really expected the Twitter hashtags wherein

younger, more liberated minds came to the lawyer’s defence as the
media attempted negative backlash. Backlash including arrogant
fingers searching through everything personal involving Chanyeol –
and publishing it. He wasn’t concerned for himself as much as he had
been for Minseok; he didn’t have a multi-million company to save
from share plummets.

Someone had discovered he’d been the initial intended hair to Park
International; had discovered, through nought but hearsay, that he’d
left due to conflict with his father.
“You could spend days reading thoughtless rumours and nothing you
could say would aid them in disappearing any faster,” Minseok began,
leaning against the door to his own office, “Ignore it, why care?”

Chanyeol looked up from his phone, “Don’t you care? I saw the
shareholder percentage drop – I’m pretty sure the whole country did.”

Guilt, perhaps, played part to Chanyeol’s reluctance. If Minseok hadn’t

represented him, this wouldn’t have happened – there wouldn’t be an
ongoing power battle for the top firm if Chanyeol hadn’t dragged
Minseok into this mess. His mess. If he wasn’t attached to Minseok
this way. He was unsure how Minseok could be seemingly unaffected
when this could’ve been avoided.

Minseok sighed, pushing himself up to close the distance between

them, “Jongdae and I own a majority within the firm – I couldn’t care
less about balding old men with heads buried deep within each other’s
asses.”

He snorted as Minseok leaned down to kiss his forehead, because, yes,

somehow, he’d expected something similar from the lawyer’s
response. His own doubts were nothing beyond overthinking, an
inexperience that stemmed from the way Minseok as much as smiled
at him – like his heart was expecting his mind to wake up any moment
and face reality.

Except, this was reality – and Chanyeol’s heart was admittedly in

deeper than it had ever been before.

“I have a meeting,” Minseok said, a little regretfully.

Chanyeol blinked, remembering the sole reason he’d even turned up to

Minseok’s office – although, it may have been remotely believable that
he’d just turn up to watch his boyfriend work. What other inspiration
would he need?

He held up the plastic bag at his side, “Remember to eat.”

The look in Minseok’s eyes, then, the crinkles appearing at the corners
of his eyes – adoration, perhaps, something not quite fathomable
within words, as Minseok leaned down to place a goodbye kiss to
Chanyeol’s lips.

“I will,” He replied, taking the bag and giving Chanyeol a smile he’d
never quite learn to breathe through.

Once again left alone within Minseok’s office, Chanyeol pushed

himself to his feet to find a better use for his day other than lingering
around the lawyer’s firm. As much as he liked the people here, he’d
experienced enough law jargon and professionalism to last him quite a
while – it was as he was leaving that his eyes noticed the white plastic,
something rather out of place atop Minseok’s large wooden desk.

It was a polaroid picture – the very picture Chanyeol had taken on

Minseok’s old camera, the two of them sat in front of Minseok’s living
room windows. Minseok was sat behind Chanyeol, his arms out of
view though Chanyeol remembered them being wrapped around his
own waist. The lawyer’s eyes were closed, his lips pressed softly
against the skin of Chanyeol’s neck; something rather soft to contradict
Chanyeol’s own goofy peace sign.

He was unsure for how long he stared at the picture, the quality poor
but cherished by Minseok all the same – on Minseok’s work desk, of
all places. Somewhere the lawyer would look every day. Chanyeol
found himself sitting on Minseok’s chair, his heart beating a little
harder in his chest as he, for possibly the first time, allowed himself to
feel how much Minseok meant to him.

How much he loved Minseok. He loved Minseok – was in love with

Minseok.

Something so arbitrary yet it had taken him this long to even realise it.

Instead of allowing himself the fear of prevailing attachment, though

the panic crossed his mind, he allowed himself to breathe – and wait.
Because he wasn’t entirely an idiot, he’d seen the way Minseok looked
at him often, the smiles, the touches like they’d somehow prevent
Chanyeol from disappearing. It was something, even if he had no
words to determine whatever it was.

Minseok had never been verbal about the way he felt, nor had it ever
been easy to read the man’s face – instead, perhaps, it was found
within the little things. Within the way he awoke Chanyeol with a kiss
to his forehead on dark mornings before even the sun had chance to
touch his skin; within that crinkle of his eyes as he watched Chanyeol
attempt to save a burning breakfast.

Adoration in the lawyer’s eyes and all Chanyeol had wanted to do was
make some damn food.

Chanyeol stared at the polaroid a little longer, his mind searching for
the sense to describe the light feeling flowing through his veins – the
search was fruitless, the polaroid returning to Minseok’s desk as
Chanyeol stood up, words in his heart that his mind was beginning to
find.

He’d tell Minseok, eventually. Probably.

☽☾

Baekhyun had finally decided to pick up his ass and move in with
them – the move itself had been rather painless, albeit the uncanny
number of belongings their best friend had somehow managed to
cramp into his tiny apartment. They’d also been reminded of
Baekhyun’s awful eating habits, the art student surviving solely on
instant ramen and coffee alone.

“I’m making you dinner,” Chanyeol announced the moment they’d all
collapsed onto the sofa, “And you’re going to eat it, Byun.”
“I’m an art student, not dying,” Baekhyun retaliated, kicking his feet
up onto the table.

“Coffee doesn’t replace sleep,” Sehun mumbled, his eyes closing in

mild exhaustion.

“And anyway,” Baek continued, “Yixing is taking me out for dinner.”

“And then what?” Sehun asked, smirking despite his closed eyes.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, just as their doorbell rang – Baekhyun was
on his feet in an instant, sauntering over to the door like he already
owned the place. Yixing appeared as Chanyeol remembered him,
though his clothing far more casual; which meant Baekhyun had
probably told the dance exec to come straight from a class. Poor soul.

Sehun remained half asleep as Chanyeol made them all tea (see also:
hot chocolate for Yixing), the light feeling in his chest that morning
keeping his mood afloat.

“So anyway,” Baekhyun began in the tone he used when trying to be

discreet, “How’s your whole music producing thing coming along?”

“Um,” Chanyeol replied, sitting down, “Good? Kinda wish I was

studying it at college, though.”

He was enjoying where his life had taken him, right now – from
everything personal to practical, he was beyond thankful he had the
chance to produce music without having to worry about paying rent. It
was all he’d ever wanted to do, all he’d ever enjoyed doing… he just
wished he could be doing it in an environment that allowed his
potential to escalate. Like college.

Yixing raised a nondescript eyebrow, sharing a look with Baekhyun.

“Does Minseok know?” His friend questioned.

Chanyeol frowned, “I’m not letting him pay for my tuition.”

As much as Chanyeol might have wanted to take this to a higher level,
there was no way he’d even allow Minseok to consider paying his
tuition – there were things he wanted to do for himself, no matter how
distant the possibility. He refused to be a burden, and he refused to be
a charity case.

The two shared another look.

“What?” Chanyeol sighed.

“I…” Baekhyun trailed off, before grinning wide, “I may have showed
Xing the track you wanted me to demo vocals for. And then I, also,
maybe, showed him all your other music demos? Shared online
account perks.”

“So… what?” He replied, confused.

“Well,” Yixing finally spoke up, offering the taller a small smile, “On
behalf of my institute of Music and Dance, I would like to formally
extend to you an offer to study at that very same college.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened, because of course he knew where Yixing

worked, Baekhyun had failed to shut up about it – one of the highest-
ranking arts colleges in the country and they wanted to extend him an
offer? It was a nice thought, up until the hefty price tag. He was
thankful for the sentiment, though.

“Thank you, but,” He hesitated, smiling small, “It’s not something I’d
ever be able to afford.”

Yixing’s smile was soft, “We’re offering you a scholarship, Chanyeol.”

His eyes flickered over to Baekhyun’s in disbelief, “I’ve hardly earned

a scholarship.”

The dance exec stared at him seriously, “This isn’t for Baekhyun, if
that’s what you’re thinking. I listened to your work, myself – me and
my colleagues. You have real talent, and we merely wish to contribute
to your future; contribute to harnessing that potential.”

“Oh.” Because, really, what else was he supposed to say?

“You can think about it,” Yixing gave him a dimpled smile, patting
Chanyeol’s head as he and Baekhyun prepared to leave, “The new
semester doesn’t start until January.”

January was literal months away, an entire winter away – and

Chanyeol had that amount of time to think about it like the decision
was his. He had to be certain that Baekhyun played some sort of role in
his offer, but Yixing claimed he’d heard Chanyeol’s work first hand.
Yixing was a dance teacher, so of course he’d shared it with his
colleagues.

He merely watched as Baekhyun and his (boy)friend left, the disbelief

prominent in his wide eyes as Sehun shrugged his shoulders and
sipped on the cooling tea.

☽☾

Now, Chanyeol wouldn’t entirely trust his instincts when they told him
something was wrong. Not particularly wrong, but different – because
he was pretty damn certain that Minseok was acting different. There
were moments of hesitation between them, in which Chanyeol could
conclude nothing but confusion; Minseok didn’t hesitate, he didn’t
change the subject whenever Chanyeol began to prod… except, he
was. And Chanyeol was concerned.

Eventually, Chanyeol gave up on his game of tiptoeing around the

older man and sat himself directly atop his boyfriend’s lap. Minseok
merely tried to continue reading the words upon his laptop screen.
“Did something happen?” He asked, sliding his arms around
Minseok’s neck to make the lawyer look at him.

“I…” Minseok trailed off in a way that lined Chanyeol’s mind with
nerves, before sighing, “We’re considering a large corporate case.
Remember when I said I’d initially been the head of the Chinese
branch?”

Chanyeol remembered, it was the night they’d first opened up to one

another.

He nodded.

“We kept the majority of our clients – one client in particular, one of
my most loyal clients, is being sued for… millions. I’ll be spending the
rest of the year in China,” Minseok continued, fingers toying with the
hem of Chanyeol’s shirt in distraction, “I only trust myself and
Jongdae to handle this, and Jongdae has been extremely busy for quite
some time.”

“You’ve been busy, too,” Chanyeol defended, trying not to think about
the fact that the rest of the year meant at least five months.

“Perhaps,” The lawyer agreed, smiling reluctantly, “If all goes well,
I’ll be returning in February.”

If all goes well, Chanyeol thought to himself, Minseok could be gone

for… even longer.

“Oh,” He felt a little selfish for the way it was the only word to leave
his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Chanyeol asked, not really needing an answer, “I understand.

You’ve already neglected so much work because of me.”

He was accepting this on the outside far faster than he was on the
inside.
“And I’d do it all over again if I had to, but he’s my oldest client. I
have my own professional loyalties, regardless of how much I’d rather
spend that time here with you. I could say I’ll fly back when time
permits it, but with a case like this, I’m unsure if time will permit it.”

“I can’t even imagine not seeing you for that long,” The words slipped
from Chanyeol’s mouth, even as the warning signs flared to declare he
was being clingy, annoying, childish, “I could come with you.”

“No,” Minseok’s answer was quick, “You have college, your mother,
Chanyeol, those are not things I’ll allow you to leave just because I’m
away for a few months.”

“A few months?” Chanyeol mumbled, knowing Minseok’s argument

was right, “Semester starts in January and I can fly out to see my mom
regularly, it’s not like it’s that long a flight.”

Chanyeol knew his mind was fighting for loopholes – it wasn’t like
Minseok was disappearing for ever, or even leaving him… but, he
couldn’t help the way he felt, the dumb need in his chest that told him
five (at least) months apart was going to be pain he didn’t want to
experience. The facts were there, though; semester started after the
new year, and China wasn’t exactly a thousand miles away. It was, at
most, a two-hour flight.

And Chanyeol had always preferred change, had always preferred

travelling to new places with no plan set in mind. It was freeing.

Perhaps it was dangerous, with his mom’s health as bad as it was; it

was particularly selfish to even allow himself to follow this path of
thought. He wanted to be here for her, and it seemed to be the only
thought keeping him routed to the country.

After the court case with his father had settled, his mom had
successfully filed for divorce and had been moved to a private
hospital. She wasn’t restricted to the hospital, nor her bed, but it
wouldn’t have been smart to stray far from medical assistance
Minseok deflated slightly, “I don’t even know when I’ll be able to
return.”

“You’re going to be busy, I’ll have the time to see my mom – and
maybe I need the change.”

Recent events had exhausted him, mentally, his energy draining into
the surroundings. A new scene could give him what he needed to
recharge… or, he was making excuses again.

“That’s ridiculous,” The lawyer sighed, and Chanyeol may have

agreed, but he was not about to just let go.

“Maybe,” Chanyeol tried a smile, “Let me come with you.”

“Talk to your mom.”

☽☾

The next time he saw his mother, he’d offered to take her out to lunch
– it was a pleasant opposite to what lunch with her and his father had
been, the air much more relaxed without the need to be on the edge of
his seat. She had seemed to be doing better, her eyes glowing with
mischief as she prodded him with questions about Minseok. He
couldn’t tell if she was realistically doing better, or if the distance from
his father had brought out the best in her.

He considered that it was a placebo within his own mind – he wanted

her to be getting better, so any little indication that she was merely
looking better filled him with hope. Her coughing fits brought out the
familiar ache within his chest, the useless feeling that he contributed
nothing to her wellbeing, had been nothing but stress as a son. That he
hadn’t conformed to the son she’d probably envisioned as a young
mother.
Perhaps, he thought for a moment, watching as the condensation
trickled down the bottom of her glass, it would be better for him to
remain here.

“What are you worrying yourself with, now?” She asked, picking up
her glass after the coughing halted.

Her hands still trembled, Chanyeol noted.

He smiled, sad but genuine, “Minseok has to work away, for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“February, at the earliest,” Chanyeol answered, toying with a napkin,

“A client in China – I understand that it can’t helped. Still sucks,
though.”

He considered himself a professional in down playing the ache he

seemed to feel within his chest.

She watched him for a moment, before replying, “Some of the saddest
memories I have include leaving you, and as a lawyer, those trips away
were never short.”

Chanyeol didn’t really want to think about his childhood, about the
way he saw more of his teachers than he did his own parents. It was
possible that these were the things he should think about, in order to
move on from them; he’d already accepted it, but hadn’t, perhaps,
completely healed from it.

“It’s okay, it’s not like… we can change those things.”

“I’m still allowed to regret them,” She gave him the look he’d seen too
much of recently, remorse and something akin to sadness, “It wasn’t
easy for me. It won’t be easy for him, either.”

“He’s not my mom, though,” Chanyeol’s attempt at light-hearted

humour was overlooked.
“I remember, on those nights I came to see you before I left, you’d beg
me to take you with me,” She then laughed, the sound light and airy,
“You said being stuck in my office all day would be better than being
stuck in a classroom.”

“I was a smart kid.”

“You want to go with him. Why is that causing you so much trouble?”

“Because,” He replied, like the singular word was enough of an

answer, “Of course I wanted to go on your business trips, you’re my
mom. He’s not my mom. He’s a grown man – I’m a grown man.”

“Chanyeol,” She started in that annoyingly persuasive yet soft mom

voice, “Let me be here for you, now. Let me be your mom, and let me
tell you that I can see what you’re not telling me. Let him be there for
you.”

“He might not even want me to go with him,” Chanyeol blurted,

because the thought had been burying itself deep within his worry,
“It’s a long time to be stuck with someone. We have our own lives, and
his does not revolve or even have to remotely consider the way my-.”

“Chanyeol,” His mom repeated, shutting him up, “Don’t let your
thoughts run away from you. You know he cares about you.”

He mumbled out a barely audible I know.

“I thought you spent most of your time at his place, so why is that an
issue?”

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he responded, “Did Baekhyun tell you

that?”

“Sehun,” She corrected.

Traitors, talking to his mom behind his back like he wouldn’t find out.
“I’m not going to leave you here,” Chanyeol finally said, after chewing
on a piece of his food for way too long.

“You mean to say that you’re going to stay here, moping around for
days on end, when you could catch a flight or even call me from a
country that’s, quite literally, next door?”

“It sounds simple when you say it like that – but, it’s not simple, mom.
I couldn’t live with myself if… if something happened to you here
when I’m not here.”

“Visit, call regularly – I refuse to be the one thing anchoring you here.”

“No, I’m not just-.”

“Chanyeol, you’re my son, and I’m telling you to follow whatever that
conflicted heart of yours is telling you to do. Learn to follow your
heart now – don’t wait until you’re as old as me to do the same.”

He left the conversation at that, choosing instead to talk about his

college offer and everything else that didn’t include him travelling to
China with Minseok. He chose not to talk about it, nor think about it,
nor debate his head and heart.

The lunch had been nice, to finally be able to treat his mom and spend
the day with her. It somehow felt needed, like talking to her was the
easiest thing in the world.

Their day eventually drew to an end, and Chanyeol once again found
himself being able to talk for moments on end to his mom – it came
with a side of regret, regret that he’d been neglected the opportunity to
do this all his life; to just talk to his mom like a normal son and have
her chastise him like a normal mom.

It wasn’t entirely clear to him that he’d fallen asleep at her bedside,
again, his legs pulled up underneath him in the armchair as she, too,
spoke to him about everything and anything. He hadn’t meant to fall
asleep, hadn’t even realised how tired he’d been until he found his
eyes unwilling to open as voices filtered through his ears.

Minseok’s voice, and his mom’s – he’d completely forgot that

Minseok was supposed to be picking him up and felt a remote pang of
guilt that he’d probably worried the lawyer by not replying to his texts.

The voices were oddly comforting, and he found himself dozing back
into a half-asleep state, his mind still soft with the feeling of slumber.
It was as he fell asleep again, his ears bound to betray the words he
was hearing, that he heard his mom ask Minseok if he loved her son.

It was in those last few moments before sleep, before his body once
again fell beneath the lull of warmth, that he heard Minseok’s
confirmation.

A confirmation that he loved Chanyeol – and a promise that he’d look

after her son, regardless of what the future brought.

☽☾

For a particularly long day, this was not how Chanyeol had predicted it
would end.

It had begun innocent enough – Minseok had drove them both to his
apartment, the words Chanyeol had heard before drifting asleep
dancing on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask Minseok about it,
but something about ‘hey, do you love me?’ was not how Chanyeol
wanted this to ignite.

Instead, he kissed Minseok; kissed the breath from Minseok’s lungs

the way the lawyer had done to him so many times before. Chanyeol
had kissed him until the other man had pushed him down onto the bed,
lips swollen red and a hint of curiosity in his eyes – curiosity that
morphed into something darker when Chanyeol opened his mouth,
sliding the lawyer’s index finger into the heat slowly.

Minseok was watching him carefully, his thigh pressed between

Chanyeol’s legs as he pushed his finger in far enough to watch the
younger gag. A smirk tugged at his lips, then, and as he moved to
withdraw his finger, Chanyeol bit down.

“Do you remember your safe word, Kitten?”

Chanyeol felt the arousal low in his stomach begin to dance as he

nodded.

With the hand not fingering his mouth, Minseok slowly began to undo
the front of the younger’s trousers, grinding his hand into Chanyeol’s
hardening dick as he did so. Chanyeol moaned low around the fingers,
the sound muffled as Minseok freed him of his underwear.

He stroked Chanyeol slowly, his grip tightening as he began to pump

the length. Chanyeol inhaled sharply, almost choking on the fingers
within his mouth when Minseok slid his thumb across the head of his
cock. The motion was rough, the lack of lube almost painful – that
didn’t stop him from complaining when the hand disappeared from his
dick with the fingers from his mouth.

Except, Minseok then pressed the hand to Chanyeol’s face and

Chanyeol looked up at him in question.

“Lick.”

And Chanyeol did, leaving a trail of saliva on his boyfriend’s palm and
tasting himself in the process.

The slide was easier with the aid of Chanyeol’s spit, though barely, as
the fingers returned to his mouth. Minseok kept him like this, with the
younger’s hips bucking up into each stroke as the fingers pressed down
harder – in time with a particularly rough stroke, Minseok pushed his
fingers into the back of Chanyeol’s throat and Chanyeol gagged, his
eyes watering as the heat in his abdomen curled.

He wanted to ask for more, for something quicker than the slow pace
Minseok was dragging this out at – the words were useless, a mere
gurgle around Minseok’s fingers as the elder smirked, quickening his
pace until Chanyeol was certain he was seeing stars.

Minseok didn’t even try to stop Chanyeol from fucking up into his fist,
instead used the precum to ease the strokes of his hand. He quickened
his pace until Chanyeol was squirming, on the edge of coming apart,
before halting his actions completely.

Chanyeol whined, his hips bucking up into nothing as Minseok slid the
pants down his thighs.

The click of a bottle lid was the only hint Chanyeol received before a
finger was pushing into him, his aching cock left neglected between
them as Minseok begun working him open – with the lawyer’s fingers
out of his mouth, Chanyeol’s tongue failed to halt the begging, to halt
the please and more that fell past his lips as Minseok pinned his hips to
the bed.

The seconds fell together into a desperate blur as Minseok took his
time, drawing out every moan and whine that Chanyeol didn’t even try
to hide until the lawyer was turning him over, pulling his hips into the
air and pushing his head against the mattress.

He felt Minseok’s lips on the back of his neck, then, the trail of teeth
and tongue following the length of his shoulder as Minseok lined
himself up at Chanyeol’s entrance – he bit down as he pushed in, and
Chanyeol couldn’t even care that he was drooling against the bedding
when he moaned, Minseok’s low groan joining him as his hips pressed
up against Chanyeol’s ass.

Minseok waited, seemingly in no rush as he continued to lay his lips

where he pleased along Chanyeol’s upper back.
“Move,” Chanyeol gasped out, trying to grind his cock into the air
beneath, “Please.”

Where he’d been slow in the preparation, in pushing Chanyeol to the

edge only to pull him painstakingly back, he made up for when he
pulled out and slammed back into Chanyeol – the younger was certain
he yelled, but the thought was hardly relevant as Minseok began
fucking into him properly, his hands holding Chanyeol’s hips up in a
bruising grip.

Chanyeol’s hands grasped for the bedsheets, a last-ditch attempt to

avoid jerking himself off; he wanted to feel Minseok’s hand around
him, pushing him over that edge as he pushed into him harder – the
thoughts were voiced aloud and Minseok groaned, fucking Chanyeol
harder until the sound of his hips slapping against Chanyeol’s ass
joined the chorus of moans.

He was close to coming untouched when Minseok slowed, pumping

into him slowly and Chanyeol wanted to cry in need for the release
that had been denied twice.

That was when Minseok pulled out completely and Chanyeol

whimpered, hardly graceful when Minseok turned him over and
wrapped the younger’s long legs around his hips. He leaned over
Chanyeol carefully, leaning down to briefly kiss his lips as he began to
fuck him again – the kiss was far from perfect, sloppy and jittery with
the pace of the lawyer’s thrusts, yet Chanyeol chased the other’s lips
all the same.

A hand trailed down his ribs, sliding across the sweat on his stomach
until, finally, wrapping around his cock. He clenched around Minseok
instantly, the pleasure searing through him as his boyfriend fucked into
him until he was a moaning mess, his hips trying to fuck into the fist
and fuck back onto Minseok’s cock at the same time.

Minseok leaned away from him, then, the grip on his cock tightening
as the pleasure in Chanyeol’s body began to peak.
“Are you going to come for me, Princess?” Minseok’s voice was
breathless, his tone low as Chanyeol let out an oh god please yes,
“Then come.”

As Minseok slammed into him, Chanyeol’s back arched from the bed
as his hands gripped the sheets so hard the muscles in his arms strained
– he clenched around Minseok, hard, as his come joined the mess of
sweat between them. Minseok’s own groan was low, his pace
quickening as he pumped Chanyeol until his thighs shook in
oversensitivity.

Chanyeol lifted a hand to grip onto Minseok’s back, his nails raking
down the skin as Minseok tensed on top of him, his hips stuttering to a
stop as he came with Chanyeol’s name on his lips. He kissed Minseok,
the action a breathy mess as they both panted hard.

Minseok allowed himself to collapse to the side of Chanyeol, pulling

the younger against him and uncaring of the mess now cooling atop
them both. They said nothing, merely allowed the darkness in the room
to calm their breathing.

They continued to lay there through their high, Minseok’s fingers

tracing shapes into Chanyeol’s hip as they allowed themselves to
simply appreciate the other’s presence.

Cleaning was probably their smartest move, yet Chanyeol preferred to

just lay there, tucked into Minseok’s side like he wasn’t the taller of
the two. He allowed his eyes to focus through the darkness, to trail the
length of silver light that the moon spilled through the open curtain.
The only sound remained that of their breathing, yet the sound within
Chanyeol’s chest felt so much louder.

He wanted to say it, the words that had been on his mind for the past
few weeks – regardless of what happened, he knew he’d be okay with
it. The thought of China may have scared him beyond admittance, but
somehow that fear was beyond miniscule when Minseok was by his
side.
Despite his lack of energy, he found himself moving to straddle
Minseok’s lap; it couldn’t help but feel reminiscent of their first night
spent together, how uncertain things had been yet how content he’d
felt there on the lawyer’s sofa.

His lips touched Minseok’s jaw, slowly finding their way through the
dark to Minseok’s lips.

Chanyeol kissed his lips once, before murmuring, “I love you, Kim
Minseok.”

So, perhaps he was unfamiliar with those words when uttered allowed,
and yet, his shoulders felt lighter than ever before.

Minseok’s hands tightened on his waist, lips against his own once
again until his mind began to swim – and not entirely from the lack of
oxygen.

“I’ve loved you for quite some time, Park Chanyeol.”

This time, it was Chanyeol who smiled into the kiss.

End Notes

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