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contrary to popular belief, felix is not drunk.
he is pleasantly tipsy, he thinks, giggling to himself as he tips over on the couch; he smacks a hand out and the couch mumbles at him, a soft ow that he thinks maybe isn’t courtesy of any talking furniture, but rather a person, a person who is lying on the floor, by the couch that he’s on.
“any second now, you could stop hitting me in the face.” that person is seungmin, he realizes, the second he also realizes that he lied earlier, and he is actually very drunk.
“you could also just get on the couch, why are you on the floor?”
“that is a good question, i just sort of ended up here.” he laughs, wiggling his hand over the edge of the couch, and felix takes his hand to help him up from the floor, but he overcompensates and falls onto felix, elbowing him in the stomach, and suddenly their faces are entirely too close, both of them laughing again.
his breath smells like tequila and cigarette smoke, his braces are so, so shiny, and he’s too busy staring at the glinting metal to notice when seungmin leans closer to him, pressing their mouths together in a sloppy, slightly crooked kiss that felix laughs into; he tastes like lime and salt and it’s a little wetter than he was expecting, which just makes him laugh again.
“what was that for?” seungmin giggles at him, looking more amused than actually offended.
“you were staring at my mouth, i just went for it—” now both of them are barely holding it together, clutching at each other; it’s nice, having seungmin’s solid weight on top of him; it’s giving him ideas and felix laughs again, flopping back against the couch and pulling seungmin with him; snuggling into his solid weight.
“you remember, at that party,” felix presses his knuckle against his mouth, playing coy but too amused for it to be any bit of believable, “in the bathroom—”
“yeah,” his eyes go unfocused, almost like he’s remembering; a foggy bathroom in a crowded house party, and hands, everywhere; they hadn’t gotten very far, but they’d gotten far enough, before jisung barged in demanding people take shots from a mystery bottle, shirtless and yelling cobra starship lyrics; it’d been lurking on the edge of his mind ever since; i’ve never, he’d said, almost shameful, quiet in a way felix had never seen him, but you learn real fast; and it wasn’t a lie, he did, clever fingers and a kiss that made him want more.
“if you wanted to—” he barely gets the words out, because in a flip of a switch, there’s a crackle in the air, and the smile on seungmin’s face goes from mild and tipsy to predator, and felix wiggles against the couch, scrambling when strong hands hold him in place.
“if i wanted to, is one thing, but what do you want,” he says it like it’s simple, and it isn’t, when felix isn’t sure, isn’t searching for anything but to turn the valve and release the pressure building behind his eyes; he feels a careful hand dip into his loose shorts and whines, but the hand stops.
“use your words, felix, i have faith in you.” his smile is still sharp, but his tone is mild, almost bored, if wobbly because of all the tequila.
“fuck you—”
“—well i figured that was the general idea,”
“i want you to fuck me, if you think you can do that—” he swallows the rest of his words when both of his wrists get gathered up and held down, pressed into the couch; some part of him remembers that they are in a house full of people, most of them sleeping or close to it, spread out around in different rooms.
they shouldn’t be doing this here, but he can’t think of a single good reason to stop; he can feel it against his hip, seungmin is hard and getting harder by the second; he’s not small, but he’s not huge either, thick and solid; he thinks of of something jisung said once, boyfriend dick, he called it, won’t leave you disappointed, won’t leave you sore, something you can take every day, like a nice sweater in autumn.
felix thought he was making shit up, but he thinks he gets it now, more than gets it, he appreciates it, he wants it; to feel it, solid and full, and just enough.
he feels seungmin’s fingers drifting down, further into his shorts, and felix clamps his legs shut before he can get too far, biting at his bottom lip in a stinging kiss, laughing when they part and his mouth is spit shiny and swollen; he’s about to say something, distracted when seungmin trails sugar sticky, wet kisses down his neck, making him shiver, wrapping his hands up in seungmin’s thick hair.
“you don’t have to, like, do the whole thing—i can take it.” mainly he feels a bit too drunk for an entire affair of foreplay and fingers and everything else; he’s so wet it’s making his thighs stick together; he knows it’ll feel better, he doesn’t have the patience for everything else.
“you sure?” he asks the question, but he’s already shoving his shorts out of the way, down his thighs; he’s wearing a tacky pair of gas station trunks he’d stolen from jeongin, covered in hot dogs and american flags.
“yeah, i’m sure,” felix kicks his own shorts away and spreads his legs, one hand underneath his knee, propping his leg up awkwardly, the other holding himself open, palm rubbing over his swollen clit, which is new, new and sensitive; he can’t get over how it actually sticks out from his body. they’d said; everything he’d read and the videos he’d watched obsessively had mentioned it as a possibility, but he hadn’t believed them until it happened, it’s bigger than he thought it would be and it just keeps growing.
sometimes, he can’t help but stare at his own body, no shame, just awe, awe at how he’s changing; awe at the fact that more and more, he recognizes himself, like a lump carved out of marble turning into a person; thin fabrics and sinew and muscle, piece by piece, turning into an enduring work of art; it’s probably narcissistic, but fuck if it isn’t well earned.
he knows he’s beautiful, he sees it in the shameless way seungmin stares at his body, breath held when he lines up and pushes in; both of them groan; when he bottoms out, seungmin buries his face in felix’s neck, teeth and metal scraping against his neck; it stings, but he leans into it, the way it gives him this heady, echoing feeling of pleasure, chasing after the pain, like lime to tequila.
“—you’re not allowed to laugh at me,” seungmin says, panting info felix’s neck on the tail end of a clumsy thrust, “because i’ve only done this, like, twice,” felix laughs, petting at his hair; it’s strange, how honest he is about these things, not even bothering with posturing; there’s something about it that just turns felix on more; the air conditioner kicks on and sends even more goosebumps across his exposed skin.
“i wouldn’t laugh at you, i promise. only laughing with,” he pauses, trying to gather his thoughts around the way the room is more than sort of spinning when he moves his head a little too quickly. his eyes flutter, before he’s blinking stupidly and then dissolving into giggles again, “only laughing with, minnie, what type of horrible person do you take me—”
there was a joke felix was making, he remembers, there was a whole bit he was doing, until something happens, seungmin shoves inside of him, again, the wet slide of their bodies together makes his vision go blurry, and then he twists his hips, and something inside of felix goes gooey and warm and then it happens again and he feels like he’s about to swallow his own tongue.
“what, did i, fuck, did i do something wrong, why are you making that face?” seungmin sounds confused, for some reason, and he doesn’t stop as much as he slows down, and that fizzy warm feeling goes away, making felix’s head clear up just enough for frustration to filter in.
“do it again, like,” felix tries to lift his hips up enough to try and find it himself, whatever spot that was that made his entire brain blue screen for a second, but he can’t get the right angle, and he just whines, bratty and annoyed, but at the very least, seungmin is nothing if not obedient, because he does it again, and felix has so little warning that he moans, loud, loud enough that it echoes more than a little in this giant living room with the vaulted ceilings, ringing off the face of the stone fireplace and the glass windows.
he claps a hand over his mouth while seungmin laughs at him, even as he rubs over that spot again, pressing the spongy head of his cock right where it feels so good it hurts, obviously just to hear felix make that noise again, only barely muffled by his sweaty palm.
his eyes don’t want to stay open, and he has tears beading up, rolling down the sides of his face.
“like that? you made that face again, like,” he somehow has the presence of mind to try and recreate the face felix made, which apparently involved crossing his eyes like a dead person in an old cartoon; he smacks him against the shoulder, removing his hand with horrible timing, for it to happen again, and he bites his tongue trying to keep quiet and copper blooms across his taste buds, with a bright sting of pain.
“i hate, fuck, why are we friends, you’re the worst, and i hate you.”
“you hate me, you say, when i could just do this,” colors go weird for a second, felix claps his hand over his mouth again, hips coming up from the couch.
the sound of their bodies coming together is so loud there’s no way it can’t be heard from the bedrooms; he whimpers again, louder than he should, but he doesn’t care because it feels good. he tries to bite back noises, but it doesn't do anything, they just keep slipping out of him, reedy and high and so embarrassing. his fingertips are tingling, it feels that amazing, pleasure running rampant and dancing across his nerves.
it feels too good, he realizes, and there’s this even weirder warm feeling, this trickling, steady heat that makes him realize he has to pee, maybe, and he tries to wiggle away but seungmin just pins him to the couch and fucks into him even faster, making his words come out slurred and stuttered.
he should have taken the foreplay, he realizes, because his body went from zero to sixty and it’s sending stars dancing across the backs of his eyelids.
“hmm, oh, no, i think i’m gonna—” piss myself, he’s about to say, but he doesn’t get the words out before all of that liquid heat that has been trickling down his spine narrows down to a fine point and then bursts in wave after wave of heated pleasure; he can feel his cunt throbbing and dripping, and it's too much.
he can feel his entire body clench up, his thighs are shaking and trembling, his back comes up from the couch in an arc like he’s possessed, and he downright screams, like there isn’t an entire house full of people that can definitely hear them; he’s never living this down.
the entire time, seungmin just keeps fucking him harder and harder, panting against his neck while he makes a mess all over the couch; there’s so much he can literally hear it, spraying all over the very expensive fabric of the couch and dripping from the leather onto the floor; not leather, but suede, he thinks, fancy treated suede is the fabric he just came so hard he drunkenly pissed all over it, and the fancy ass rug underneath it; fuck.
he feels it, finally, everything is soaking wet, feeling the heat of it all up his back, making his shirt stick to his skin, and worse, it’s so loud, how wet he is, and he feels like it’s only getting louder, the more seungmin drives into him. he tries to crawl away, but he doesn’t get very far, face going hot with shame even as he gives into the pleasure again, words slipping out of his brain as quickly as he can grasp onto them.
“i’m so sorry—i don’t know what—” seungmin blinks at him, eyes finally concentrating on felix’s distressed face as he pulls away and pulls out; it feels weird, to be empty so suddenly, and it makes felix go cold all over.
it’s hard to look at his face and not stare everything else, when he’s still hard, and shiny wet, and sitting in part of the puddle felix has left all over the couch, “i didn’t realize i had to—”
he’s confused when seungmin starts laughing at him, not unkindly, but just amused, and his stomach feels weird, something like shame, but colder.
“has that never happened before?” felix has no clue what he’s talking about and the room is still spinning and the puddle beneath him is slowly soaking into the fabric of the couch and going cold.
“what, being fucked so hard i piss myself, no, i’m afraid it hasn’t—” his voice is shaky, even as he tries to be some form of funny to cover the shame.
that look is back, the predatory one, and it makes felix feel rabbit small, heart beating a bit too fast in his throat; he shrinks back against the couch, but seungmin grabs him by the ankle, pulling him close and hovering over him.
“am i the first person who's ever made you come like that?” now he looks smug, but it clicks for felix, what just happened, and suddenly he doesn’t feel ashamed at all; he didn’t even know he could, but this, this is a revelation.
he feels the tip of seungmin’s cock pressing against his cunt, and he spreads his legs, an unspoken invitation; the second seungmin shoves inside him again, his entire body goes tingly all over, and he can’t help but cry out, loud and high because it feels just that fucking good; his eyes roll back and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat.
“yes, fuck, i didn’t even know—” he cuts off when he feels seungmin hitting that spot again, and this time the warmth is even more intense, the way his legs tighten around seungmin’s waist is entirely involuntary, but he just wants him closer; their eyes meet and his breath all but disappears, chest going tight.
“think i can do it again?”
it's seungmin's drunken but clever idea to cover the stains with a half empty bottle of beer he finds next to the coffee table, and then leave it on the floor, tipped over onto its side, to make it seem like someone just accidentally made a mess; and the messes were an accident, felix thinks, with no small amount of guilt, so it's not completely a lie.
both of them wobble away from the crime scene, half naked and clinging to each other, trying to hold back the giggles and failing because of the endorphins and the dizziness of the alcohol hitting them both again; he leans against seungmin as he wrestles the door to one of the bedrooms open, and follows after him, collapsing in the bed; he shouldn't, he should clean up and shower and do all sorts of things, but he can barely stand up, and his legs are still trembling and shaky.
he falls asleep curled up on seungmin's chest and grinning, still drunk.
in the morning, the door to the bedroom bangs open; seungmin yelps and then sits up, hair a mess, squinting at whoever has barged in; felix rolls over and stares at the clock; it's six in the morning, and he has no clue why someone is waking them up at this time, until he sees; silhouetted in the door frame, it's jeongin and jisung; holding an airhorn and a pair of sheet pans, respectively.
felix's eyes widen in horror, and he doesn't even have time to brace himself when jisung takes a huge breath, before banging the pans together; he doesn't look like he's had a single second of sleep, and felix knows why, so he doesn't even have it in him to be mad when he starts yelling, loudly: "i didn't get no sleep 'cause of y'all, y'all not gon get no sleep 'cause of me".
seungmin throws the comforter over his head, even as jeongin climbs onto the mattress, screeching and blasting the air horn; felix stumbles out of bed, chasing after jisung with the average speed of a drunken zombie, trying to steal the pans, before his stomach lurches and he gives up, making an abrupt about-face and trying to get to the nearest bathroom, when suddenly everything goes blurry and his mouth fills with spit; he hunches over and waits for it to pass, but it doesn't—
at least, he thinks, more than a bit miserably, the tile isn't as absorbent as the couch.