Chapter Text
"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." - Jeremiah 33:3
Waiting for his toast to pop out of the toaster, Chan watches as Felix casually sips on the coffee that was supposed to be his. Chan hates that it doesn’t bother him. He watches as Felix takes the cup and—humming some tune he doesn’t recognize—goes to plop down on the foot of the bed.
“You okay?” Felix asks suddenly. “You’ve been kinda weird since last night.”
Chan shakes his head before answering. “I’m fine… Just tired.”
Felix stares at him, and while his expression is relaxed, his eyes are just alert and wide enough for Chan to pick up on the unsuccessful act of nonchalance. “You didn’t even yell at me for ‘wasting’ your coffee,” he says finally. He tilts his head. “You’re not gonna kill yourself or something, are you?”
Chan huffs out a laugh. “No, not yet.”
Holding the cup in both hands, Felix crosses his legs. He’s still dressed for sleep, and he looks remarkably comfortable—like he’s at home. Chan’s heart aches at how right it feels for Felix to be here.
Felix grins at Chan’s joke. “Well, if you die, I’m taking your laptop. I’ll finally get to see all those twinks in thigh highs.”
Chan laughs, half in embarrassment. “Shut up, Felix.”
Felix is smiling as he lowers his cup to rest atop his thigh. The smile disappears a moment too soon.
He knows.
And with Felix still looking at him, he knows that Chan knows that he knows.
But they don’t say anything. There’s no argument, or bartering, or comfort, or apologies.
The toaster clicks, and the toast pops up. Chan doesn’t move to get it.
When Chan’s day off rolls around, he knows he has to act. He waits and waits and waits, arguing with himself every hour. When night comes, he knows he can’t put it off any longer. It has to be done, and it has to be done tonight. This needs to end.
“Go shower,” Chan tells Felix as he comes out of the bathroom. “I put some clothes in there for you.”
From the bed, Felix gives a wry smile. “How kind of you.”
Chan nods. He holds up his arm, gesturing for Felix to pass him by to go into the bathroom. Felix stands and does, walking past Chan easily.
Chan feels horrible. Does Felix feel similarly?
Chan turns his head to watch Felix turn into the bathroom. He doesn’t look back at Chan, he just closes the door behind himself without another word. Chan continues to stand there, looking back at the bathroom door. The water turns on, and he doesn’t move. Seconds become minutes. Chan doesn’t really want to do this. He’s selfish. And stupid.
When Chan finally moves, he goes straight to the closet. He reaches up, taking a shoe box down from the shelf. He opens it. Inside are all his ritualistic things, untouched since Felix arrived to him. He grabs the lighter and sandalwood incense—the same incense he used the night he summoned Felix. Only sixteen days ago. It’s the only incense Chan owns. It’s not needed, but Chan feels the urge to use it again. Maybe he’s feeling sentimental.
Hurrying to prepare before Felix comes back, Chan kneels down on the floor. He lights the incense and candles quickly before going to the kitchen to grab a knife, then turning off the main lights. He doesn’t need a book now. He’s studied this method, learned it in its entirety forward and backwards. He can’t afford to make another mistake.
Chan’s chest is tight as he stands before the candles and incense. He closes his eyes and begins to form the Qabalistic Cross.
He gently touches the tip of the knife to his forehead. “Ateh…”
Thou art…
He lowers the knife to his groin. “Malkuth…”
The Kingdom…
He touches the knife to his right shoulder. “Ve-Geburah…”
And the Power…
He touches the knife to his left shoulder. “Ve-Gedulah…”
And the Glory…
Chan puts his hands together at chest-level, the knife pointing upward. “Le-Olam…”
Forever…
“Amen.”
He feels the air shift with the presence of something divine.
Chan takes a deep breath. He can still hear the shower running. Does Felix know what he’s doing? Chan opens his eyes. The scent of sandalwood is thick in the air. He can feel it in his throat.
Still facing east, he points the knife forward. Starting at the bottom left corner, he draws a pentagram in the air with the tip of the knife. His hand traces up to the center point, down to the bottom right, to the top left, to the top right, and back again. Imagining the drawn pentagram traced in a blue light, he points his knife to the center. “Yahweh.”
Chan turns to face south and repeats the process of drawing a pentagram. “Adonai.”
He turns to face west. Another pentagram. “Eheieh.”
He turns to face north. A fourth pentagram. “Agala.”
Chan turns back to the east. He points his knife at the center of the original pentagram again. The bathroom door opens. Chan swallows hard.
Felix stands before him, dressed in his clothes. His blond hair is still dripping with water. He closely watches Chan in silence, his face expressionless.
Chan opens his mouth to say something—to explain himself, to apologize, to grovel and cry for forgiveness from the demon—but nothing comes.
Felix’s eyes go downward, to Chan’s hand holding the knife. “You’re shaking.”
Chan can’t speak to him. He just can’t. He can barely look him in the eye.
He outstretches his arms to be reminiscent of a cross. “Before me, Raphael.”
Felix’s Adam’s apple bobs.
“Behind me, Gabriel.”
Chan tears his eyes away from Felix. He turns his head, looking to his right hand that still holds the knife. “At my right hand, Michael.”
Chan turns to look at his empty left hand. “At my left hand, Auriel.”
Chan turns back to look at Felix, standing only a few feet away. He closes his eyes. “Before me flames the pentagram… Behind me shines the six-rayed star.”
Keeping his eyes firmly shut, Chan makes another Qabalistic Cross.
“Ateh… Malkuth… Ve-Geburah… Ve-Gedulah… Le-Olam… Amen.”
When Chan opens his eyes again, Felix is standing at his side, close enough that they’re almost touching.
“You know what it will feel like,” Felix says quietly. “Don’t you?”
Staring at him, Chan can’t respond.
Soft and gentle, “Cutting me out will feel like cutting your own heart out, Chan.”
He doesn’t know if Felix means it literally or figuratively, but either way, Chan knows it’s true. He can already feel it beginning.
“Can…” Felix speaks quietly, like he too is holding his breath. “Can I touch you one last time?” His voice breaks as he says the words, and Chan’s stomach twists into knots. He hesitates to respond—fighting between desire and knowing what’s right and wrong. At that moment, Felix steps closer. Chan doesn’t have time to react before Felix presses a soft kiss to his lips. If he did, he would’ve kissed back.
Pulling back, Felix gazes into Chan’s eyes. In the low light of the room, it almost feels romantic. Clenching the knife tighter in his hand, Chan hates himself more than he ever has.
Felix sinks down to his knees. Like a trained dog, Chan can feel himself twitch in response. Looking up at him, Felix takes hold of Chan’s waistband, carefully pulling his pants and underwear down. He doesn’t waste any time, already kissing gently at any available ounce of skin within view. Chan shudders as a mix of arousal, shame and longing mixes inside him. He wishes he were dead.
Felix’s lips brush the base of Chan’s cock, making it twitch. He moves his head to take Chan’s cock inside his mouth without preamble. The heat and wet softness of his tongue has Chan sucking in a breath. Felix moans softly around him as he slowly sinks deeper. His hands gently squeeze Chan’s thighs, like he’s afraid of disappearing too soon. Chan feels his eyes starting to water.
Felix pulls back for a moment. With glossy lips, he kisses along Chan’s shaft before swallowing him again, now taking him all the way inside. Only then does he begin to suck. Chan’s free left hand flies down to touch Felix’s head as it bobs. Felix sucks his cock with a calm, even amount of pressure. It almost feels comforting with the steady rhythm of it.
Felix’s nose brushes Chan every time he takes his cock fully down his throat. Chan can feel it fluttering on the tip of his cock, and he can only assume Felix is doing it intentionally. It’s too much—too soft, too emotional, too good, too full of everything Chan knows he doesn’t deserve. Though it hasn’t been long at all, he can already feel himself getting close.
“Stop…” He gets out quietly.
Felix pulls back slowly. His lips are swollen, and a clear string of spit connects them to Chan’s cock. He looks up at Chan with glassy eyes that look even softer in the candlelight.
Chan curls his fingers into Felix’s wet hair. “I— I need… you.”
Felix seems to understand. He rises back to his feet and steps backward toward the bed. He lifts his shirt to remove his underwear before tenderly laying back.
Not bothering to remove any of his own clothes, Chan comes to him. He keeps the knife in his right hand, not even realizing he still has it until he feels his fist touch the bed on one side of Felix. Felix’s legs part easily to make room for him, and he immediately reaches up for Chan, wrapping his arms around him and dragging him down into a desperate, wet kiss. Struggling to keep up with Felix’s kiss, Chan reaches his left hand down between them to line up. When his cock brushes Felix’s wet hole, he pushes inside in one long, powerful thrust.
Felix gasps against his mouth.
Knowing Felix can take it, Chan fucks him hard and deep. There’s no rhythm, no patience, no care for anything besides to feel and be felt. He buries his face into the crook of Felix’s neck, clumsily licking, kissing and sucking at it. Felix’s skin tastes like nothing, but he smells of Chan’s shampoo and body wash. Chan’s fingers curl into the covers beneath them as Felix’s legs tighten around his middle, keeping him close.
Felix moans sweetly into his ear like this is nothing, like Chan isn’t a move away from banishing him back to Hell. His hips lift to meet Chan’s every deep thrust despite how needy and erratic Chan’s rhythm.
“Fuck,” Chan half-grunts, half-moans against Felix’s neck. He feels amazing as he always does, his hole sucking at Chan’s cock in a delicious way that’s impossible to make any sense of.
Felix suddenly cries out, his fingernails digging into Chan’s back. “There, right there—”
Chan makes sure to keep fucking into him at the same angle. His cock slams into Felix’s prostate with each thrust, and Felix’s moans become even deeper, more guttural. Chan can feel his legs trembling on either side of his body. The cheap bedframe creaks constantly, but he almost doesn’t hear it anymore. He just wants to make Felix cum. He moves faster, fucking Felix’s esoteric hole with everything he’s got as a mere human.
Felix’s back arches, and he begins to whimper with the hard, deep thrusts. “Chan— ‘m, nngh… Chan…!”
“Cum for me,” Chan pants out desperately, his lips now brushing Felix’s cheek. “Please.”
Letting out a strangled cry, Felix’s whole body tenses under Chan. His cock spills between their bodies as his hole clamps down fiercely on Chan’s cock.
A shaky moan pours out of Chan. His free hand moves to grip at Felix, desperate for any contact with perfect skin. He thrusts deep inside one last time as he cums hard. His lips find their way to Felix’s, though the contact can only barely be called a kiss. Chan clings tightly to Felix as he allows his orgasm to run its course.
Barely coming back down to earth, Chan removes his hand from Felix’s body. He presses it into the head next to Felix’s head, then slides it up higher. With both hands above Felix’s head, he’s essentially caging him in.
With their noses almost touching, Chan and Felix look into each other’s eyes, both panting quietly. Chan has to tighten his grip on the knife in an attempt to steady his hands. Afraid to miss any microinstant of their last moment together, he doesn’t blink. Chan presses the knife to his left palm, cutting the skin.
Just as quickly as his palm fills with blood, Felix’s body spasms. His eyes are wide, shocked as his small hands cling to Chan’s biceps. Still inside him, Chan can only watch in horror.
“You—“ Felix’s voice cuts off sharply from the pain. “I— Chan— You did it.”
“I had to,” Chan tries. His voice breaks. He abandons the knife in his hand in favor of cradling Felix’s face with both hands. “I’m so sorry…”
Felix lets out an agonizing pained sound, but Chan doesn’t let go of him, can’t even bear to. His nails dig into Chan’s arms harder, but Chan doesn’t feel any of the pain, too focused on Felix’s scrunched up face, his own red blood smeared on his cheek from his cut hand.
“I didn’t—“ Felix gasps. “I didn’t think you’d— actually— Fuck, it hurts, Chan, it hurts…”
“I’m sorry,” Chan repeats uselessly. He keeps blinking over and over again, shedding the tears that distort Felix’s image. “I’m so sorry,” he cries. “I’m so— Fuck, Felix—“
Felix’s body is becoming noticeably more transparent, and already, Chan can see the pillow through his head. He grips Felix’s face tighter, not wanting him to be pulled away just yet.
Felix sucks in a large breath, seemingly trying to calm himself. “‘s okay,” he manages, his voice wavering. “I get it. I do. You don’t want me anymore— It’s ‘kay.”
Chan shakes his head. “No… That’s not—“
Felix’s eyes squeeze shut as he squirms. His back arches with a poorly held-in yelp. Chan notices now that Felix’s lashes are clumped together with tears of his own. “If this is what you need—“ He cuts himself off with a pitiful, animalistic, thin sound.
Felix is vanishing faster with each passing moment. His hands are already gone from Chan’s arms, and CHan is panicking.
“Felix—!”
“You can summon me back,” Felix says, and even his voice is tinier now. “Jus’ use my true name.”
“What?” Chan exclaims as Felix’s body beneath him becomes less physical. His hands uselessly slide across Felix’s dissipating form with the haste of desperation. “What name? Felix— Tell me! What name?”
But it’s too late.
Felix is gone once the question leaves Chan’s lips. He’s already gone, and Chan is already alone. Other than him, the bed is empty. The apartment is dead silent, and Chan can swear he can hear the beat of his own heart, the pulse of every bit of blood through his veins. The pain curls inside his stomach, slowly climbing higher and higher until it’s clutching at his heart, threatening to rip it into pieces.
“No—” He claws at the covers where Felix had just lain moments prior, the blood from his hand staining the white covers red. “No, no, no, no, no—” He folds over himself. With his face in his hands, he sobs. The blood is sticky on his face, but it doesn’t matter—not now. “Felix…”
He stays there, curled into the bed where Felix was, for a long time. Just breathing through sobs and curses. Eventually his eyes dry out, and no more tears can form. He forcibly sits himself up on the side of the bed. With swollen eyes, he spots the box.
He bolts up to head to the closet, reaching up to grab the books from his shelf. He only owns two, but there has to be some mention of Felix. He starts with the one that started it all, flipping urgently through the pages.
The summoning ritual page has nothing about any sort of possible sideways ending. The pages about Astaroth don’t mention anything about what an improper sigil could bring. Impatient, Chan tosses it aside, quickly grabbing the other.
There’s nothing anywhere. Not even a mere mention of any possibility of a creature like Felix.
Chan scrambles for his phone. He doesn’t know where to begin in his search.
‘Wrong sigil of Astaroth’
‘Fallen angel Felix’
‘Different entity came during ritual’
‘Demon obsessed with sex’
‘Blond demon’
‘Demon’s true name’
He fucked up. He knows he fucked up.
Chan mentally sifts through every memory with Felix, looking for any hint or mention of a ‘true name,’ but he comes up with nothing. The only name Felix ever referenced was Felix. All Chan knows is that Felix was one of the two hundred Watchers who rebelled, excluding Samael. Of the remaining one hundred ninety-nine, how many of them are even documented?
If he went to the forum and made as detailed a post as possible, would anyone even believe him? ‘I accidentally summoned this fallen angel who constantly begged for me to to fuck him. After two weeks of living together and introducing him to my friends as my boyfriend, I fell in love with him. In embarrassment of my feelings not being returned, I banished him to Hell in an event I can only describe as traumatic. Anyone here have any ideas as to what his true name could be so that I can summon him back?’
Chan can’t get the image of Felix’s pained face out of his mind. The way he shook. The wide-eyed disbelief. The look of betrayal in a vulnerable moment.
And, God, Felix had warned him.
Chan remembers it clearly now. ‘Getting there is agonizing.’ Chan heard him say that loud and clear when they talked about Hell, but they were stored somewhere in the back of his mind. Not once—not even for a second—did he actually think about it. He never considered what it would physically feel like for Felix to be banished because he was too busy thinking about himself.
Chan assumed it would be quick. Quick the way Felix came to him. Poof. Never did he think it would be a slow, agonizing fade, or that Felix would have the time to process the betrayal.
Chan feels sick to his stomach.
Tuesday nights are slow.
Still, Chan tries to focus on work. He wipes down the bar with a mechanical level of precision. Left, right, left, right. It’s clean; it’s been clean.
Sleep was impossible. Chan could barely lay down for more than thirty minutes at a time because it was impossible to get comfortable. The apartment was so quiet, empty, cold. He kept catching himself opening his mouth to say something to Felix before he suddenly remembered. When he remembered, he would have to get up. Pace around a bit. Drink some water. Anything to try not to think about him.
It didn’t work.
It doesn’t work now.
He polished glasses. He rearranges the bottles. He takes inventory unnecessarily. Then, back to cleaning. Rinse and repeat.
He remembers where Felix sat at the bar everyday, waiting for him to finish up. He remembers the way Felix would pester and hound him for attention, drinks or little garnishes on these slow nights. He remembers the way he could sometimes catch Felix’s eyes lingering on him for too long.
With it being Tuesday, the dancers not on stage are just sort of milling about. Minho and Jisung are together because of course they are. They’re sitting at a table with a regular. Minho has his arm draped over the back of Jisung’s chair, and Jisung, smiling, leans in to whisper something to Minho. Chan watches as Minho turns his face and kisses Jisung right there on the mouth, slow and soft and easy, like no one else is around. Chan figures it’s probably some part of the ‘show’ the dancers put on for the patrons, but it’s clearly surrounded by very real feelings. Despite their short time together as a couple, they look comfortable and secure. Real.
Chan tears his eyes away. He pretends that he’s not jealous. He pretends that he doesn’t miss that—being kissed like that, smiled at like that, wanted like that. He pretends he doesn’t miss Felix, but the ache of his heart makes it impossible.
He was so stupid, thinking that getting rid of Felix would be the solution to his problems. It didn’t make anything easier. It only made things much, much harder. It’s so quiet. In his head, Chan can practically hear every snide remark or quip whenever he does anything. When he’s at home, he finds himself having that urge to hold something before he realizes that his ‘something’ is gone—because of him, because of what he did.
Glancing back up, he sees Minho and Jisung laughing together again.
Chan goes back to the bottles, moving then just to rearrange them for the nth time tonight. He takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t cry. Not here.
The days blur together. Chan can’t separate them anymore because they’re all exactly the same. He wakes up, eats and spends a few hours watching television, works, comes home, showers, eats, sleeps.
Besides at work, he doesn’t talk to anyone. Minho and Jisung text him sometimes, or try to talk to him at the bar. Chan forces a smile when he remembers to. He told them that he and Felix broke up after a nasty fight late one night.
One night, a group of college kids come in. They’re loud, laughing, drunk on vodka. One of them flirts with Chan. Usually, he would entertain it because it always pays off in tips, but he couldn’t be bothered. He poured the drink and handed it over, taking their money.
When he plays awake in bed at night, Chan thinks of Felix. Sleeping together, cuddling, having sex—even the way Felix would lie sprawled out on top of it during the daytime.
He sleeps on one side of the bed as if Felix is still there. Sometimes he dreams—Felix coming back and laughing at how much of a mess he’s been without him, meeting Felix again in Hell once he dies and having to grovel for his forgiveness, Felix walking into the bar and ordering an unknown drink that only exists in Hell and leaving in disappointment when Chan doesn’t know how to make it.
Minho corners him one night after closing.
“You can talk to me, you know. Whatever it is— whatever you’re going through— the break up, it’s—“
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Chan just walks right on by.
Eventually, Chan finds himself scrolling through his camera roll, lamenting having never taken a single photo of Felix. He opens the notes app—nothing commemorated there either. Dropping his phone into his lap, Chan leans his head back and closes his eyes.
Felix is one of the Watchers who rebelled against God. He naturally took up with humans, so he gathered up some of the other angels and led them in teaching humans. Then, a human woman introduced him to sex, and the Nephilim followed, and Felix was banished.
Felix had said that, hadn’t he? He led the other angels to help humans?
Chan opens his eyes and quickly begins typing into his phone. A single search leads him back to the Wikipedia page for the Watchers, where he remembers seeing a list the first time he ended up here.
Araqiel, Armaros, Azazel, Gadreel, Baraqel, Bezaliel, Chazaqiel, Kokabiel, Penemue, Sariel, Samyaza, Shamsiel, Yeqon. That limits it down to thirteen. Hopefully.
Chan skims over the description for each one.
Armaros taught humanity the ‘resolving of enchantments,’ whatever that means. Azazel taught humans how to make knives, and while that would explain that one night together, surely Chan would know if Felix were the ever-popular Azazel. Baraqel taught astrology, and Felix did say that he was ‘into stars.’ Yeqon was apparently the ringleader who led the Watchers into having sex with humans. That seems like something Felix would do, but it doesn’t line up with his story. Then, there’s Kokabiel, who has the longest description. It outright states that he lives in Hell and commands three hundred sixty-five thousand surrogate spirits to do his bidding, and he teaches astrology. Chan clicks on his name.
There isn’t much other information. His name means ‘star of God,’ and he taught constellations. That’s it… No mention of him being relentlessly horny, or being so frustratingly devilish, or being the most beautiful creature to ever grace the earth. Chan searches the forums and wider internet for more information, but it produces nothing of any substance.
Then again, wouldn’t this make sense? Felix has never mentioned his real name or even pointed Chan in the direction of it beyond sharing information about himself. He clearly already had the name Felix picked out, meaning that he’s probably used it on earth before. Maybe he intentionally hides his real identity, and that’s why there’s no information or legends surrounding him. Maybe he just comes to earth, one way or another, and lives as a human for a while. If he was working for any of those periods, that would explain how he managed to collect some money.
The more Chan mumbles the name under his breath, the more it seems to suit Felix. Nothing else makes sense the way Kokabiel does.
How the hell does someone like him in control of three hundred sixty-five thousand spirits, though?
The apartment no longer feels like home. Books are scattered about nearly every surface—open, corners bent, sticky notes with scribbled notes locked in between pages. They’re probably a major fire hazard with all the lit candles, but Chan couldn’t care less.
Chan lights the sandalwood incense as well. He doesn’t know if that’s necessary, but he’s determined to keep as many smaller aspects of the ritual the same as last time.
His stomach growls as he moves to stand before the taped-off triangle on the floor. He’s only about eighty percent sure that Felix is Kokabiel, and it would be humiliating if he only got to meet Felix again in Hell because he died trying to perform another poorly researched ritual. No matter how many books he bought or borrowed or PDFs he downloaded, Chan was never able to learn much about most of the watchers. It seems like most of it has been completely lost to time.
He couldn’t get Kokabiel out of his head, though.
With every little mention, he felt a stronger pull. Even at work, he would think about it. Imagining Felix as something else, having a different name. Something about Kokabiel just felt right. It has to be him.
Chan doesn’t know if Felix really cares the way he does. For all he knows, maybe it was all manipulation. Or maybe Felix was just playing around—wanting to flirt and hook up with a human who happened to summon and anchor him.
But if that were the case, why would Felix tell him that he could summon him back using his true name? He was in seemingly excruciating pain, but he still had the thought to tell Chan that. Was it because he wanted Chan to summon him back? Was it a weird comfort to Chan, like dying words to leave him with? Would Felix even forgive him for banishing him like that? They both knew it was coming, but Chan truly couldn’t have picked a worse time.
Chan kneels on the floor, just a few feet away from the triangle. “Kokabiel…” It comes out sounding weak. He clears his throat. “Kokabiel, I invite you to make your presence known to me… It would be an honor to meet you again.”
Kokabiel doesn’t have any enns or chants that Chan could find. So, closing his eyes, he repeats the name like its own mantra.
“Kokabiel… Kokabiel… Kokabiel…”
In his mind, Chan pictures Felix—just as he was that night, sitting in the triangle with his head down, ethereal and chilling.
“Kokabiel… Kokabiel… Kokabiel…”
Chan’s hands naturally clench into fists in his lap. The anticipation has him trembling.
“Kokabiel… Kokabiel… Kokabiel…”
He’ll keep repeating it for as long as it takes, whether he has to sit here until sunrise and even beyond to sunset. At some point, Felix has to hear him calling.
“Kokabiel… Kokabiel… Kokabiel…”
Chan slowly feels himself being lulled into the same semi-lucid trace. His heart begins to race, but he keeps repeating the name, trying not to lose his focus.
“Kokabiel… Kokabiel… Kokabiel…”
Then comes the heat.
Just like last time, the room warms. Each chant of Kokabiel is like turning a thermostat dial a degree higher.
Though he’s a little afraid of what he may or may not see inside the triangle, Chan opens his eyes.
With his head bowed and platinum blond hair hanging down, Felix is sitting there. Chan watches in silent shock as Felix raises his head. They make eye contact, and Felix gives him a small smile. “So you missed me.”
Chan exhales in a mix of relief and shame. “Of course I missed you.”
“How long has it been?” Felix asks. “You look the same.”
“Almost two months,” Chan answers before quickly getting to his point. “Felix, I’m so sorry. I thought— I didn’t know banishing you would be like that... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Felix shrugs nonchalantly. “I saw it coming. I just didn’t think you would go through with it when we literally had sex.”
“I’m sorry,” Chan repeats. “I was just— I thought of it like a final goodbye, kinda…”
Felix abruptly stands up and steps out of the triangle.
Chan shoots to his feet. “How— I thought you weren’t supposed to be able to leave the triangle.”
Felix gestures at the duct tape triangle and all the candles. “None of this matters. You called for me, so I’m here, and that’s that. There’s no way to consistently contain a ‘demon.’”
Chan gapes at him. “What?”
Felix cracks a lazy half-grin, and Chan can’t hold himself back any longer. Stepping around candles and books, he rushes to Felix, throwing his arms around him and gripping him tightly.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “I was scared, and— I’m stupid.”
Felix huffs out a laugh. “This stuff just isn’t for you, I think.” To Chan’s surprise, Felix hugs him back.
Still holding onto Felix, Chan lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Well, I was, but I don’t hold grudges,” Felix says. “Plus, you’re a human. It would be weird if you weren’t a panicky scared mess.”
“I didn’t want you gone, not really,” Chan explains, finally pulling back to look at Felix’s face, though he can’t bear to not keep holding him by the arms. “I just… I started liking you—really liking you—but I knew you wouldn’t feel the same, so—“ His eyes roam Felix’s face. “I just wanted to not have to look at you for every second of the day… I didn’t know it would hurt you. I know you told me, but I didn’t… put it together.”
“I like you too, Chan,” Felix says unexpectedly.
“You… what?”
Felix nods. “I wasn’t ever going to say anything because I didn’t want you to freak out any more than you already were... I figured you’d really be terrified if I told you I was interested in more than sex.” He laughs a little.
There’s a beat of silence as they look at each other. Surprising even himself, Chan closes the distance with a careful, tentative kiss. Felix kisses back without hesitation, cradling Chan’s face. So, Chan leans into it with more confidence, and his hands relax, moving down to rest gently over Felix’s waist. Moving slowly, their lips fit together just right, and, for once in this whole experience, Chan is happy.
When they finally part, Chan is a little breathless, but he can’t tell if it’s from the kiss itself or just his own excitement. “What now?” He whispers.
Felix’s lips curl into a small smile. “What do you want?”
“I want you.”
Felix chuckles. “That’s not new.”
Chan shakes his head. “No. I want you.”
He watches as realization crosses Felix’s beautiful, freckled face. His eyes light up, barely noticeable in the dim candlelight. “Oh… That.”
“I mean, it’s what everyone else already thinks…” Chan says. “So, what do you say? Wanna be my boyfriend for real?”
Felix hums. “I need to think about it a little longer, I think… My trial run wasn’t very long.”
Chan raises his brows.
“A relationship is a big commitment,” Felix says. “With us living together and all that…” His hand goes down, and he gently cups Chan’s bulge. “I might need another sample before I decide for sure…”
Chan laughs.
“What?” Felix plays dumb, looking back up into Chan’s eyes, but his smirk gives him away. “It’s been months. You might not even work the way I remember.”
“Oh yeah?” Chan teases. “Let’s find out.”
Suddenly, all of the candles go out, making Chan jump.
Felix bursts into laughter. “Sorry, but there are so many books around, and I don’t want a fire to interrupt us.”
Chan doesn’t have it in him to complain now, not when he’s already this hard from a single touch. He backs up, guiding Felix along with him to the bed. When they reach it, Felix has no problem pushing Chan down to the mattress and straddling him.
With the blink of an eye, the black robe-like garment Felix was wearing disappears, and he’s completely bare atop Chan. He barely has the chance to appreciate Felix’s hard cock and round tits before Felix is leaning in closer. His nimble fingers make quick work of the shirt Chan wore to work. As soon as it’s open, Felix moves downward, stripping Chan of the remainder of his clothes.
“You haven’t forgotten how to get hard, at least,” Felix jokes when Chan’s cock is revealed.
“Hey,” Chan half-heartedly scolds.
Felix places an apologetic kiss on his tip.
And then another, and another.
“Felix… C’mere…”
Felix ignores him, his tongue trailing a slow lick up the underside of Chan’s cock. Heavy and hard, it twitches at the contact. Felix keeps his hands on Chan’s thighs, holding them down as he opens his mouth and takes the tip inside.
Chan automatically reaches down, and his fingers slot through soft hair. “Felix, come on. Let me touch you.”
Felix pops off Chan’s cock. He rises to straddle him again, and his hands slide up Chan’s chest. “Next time, I’m gonna suck you dry—just so you know.”
Chan brings his hands to Felix’s thighs. “Fine by me.”
Felix leans forward, reaching a hand behind himself. He grabs Chan’s cock and lines it up to his wet hole. Eager, he sinks down on it right away, pulling a sharp gasp out of Chan.
Felix hums in satisfaction as he takes all of it inside himself. He begins to roll his hips, grinding on it. “Just as big as I remember…”
Chan moves one of his hands to Felix’s cock. It’s probably on the average size, but the feeling of it in his hand compared to his own does something to Chan. He pumps it with even strokes, and Felix is already keening.
Felix shifts, leaning back and supporting himself with his hands. He starts bouncing on Chan’s cock, and Chan positions his hand so that Felix is essentially fucking his fist with each one. Felix’s head soon tips back, putting his Adam’s apple and throat on gorgeous display as he whimpers and moans freely. His breasts bounce with every movement.
“You’re so—“ Chan starts, but the rest of his words die in his throat when Felix suddenly tightens around him. “Fuck, you’re so good…”
Felix pauses for a moment to reposition, leaning forward to hold himself up on hands placed on either side of Chan’s hand. No longer able to stroke Felix’s cock, Chan brings his hands to Felix’s chest, palming his tits.
“I missed these too,” Chan murmurs, his own hips threatening to buck up into Felix as he resumes his riding.
Felix lets out a small sound, something between a hum and a moan as he looks down at Chan. “You’re really not gonna banish me again?”
Staring up at him, Chan shakes his head slowly. “Never.” He reaches up, gently grabbing Felix by the back of the neck.
Felix moves with him easily, coming down to drape himself over Chan’s body. He turns his head, and Chan connects their lips in a slow kiss. Felix momentarily stops riding him, and Chan grabs his thigh, squeezing to urge him on.
As they make out, Felix starts a slow, steady grind, and Chan’s cock slips in and out, barely thrusting. Felix’s hole suckles at his cock just so, and Chan has to fight the urge to roll them over so he can sheath himself back inside as deep as he can go. Felix’s cock drags against Chan’s stomach, steadily leaking drops of precum.
“Ah, fuck…” Felix moans. His fingers dig into Chan’s shoulders. “Chan… Please.”
Moving his hands to hold Felix’s hips, Chan plants his feet on the bed to thrust hard up into Felix.
“Yes—! Ahh, right there—“
Chan feels himself coming closer at an alarmingly quick rate. “Felix— ‘m gonna cum inside you, gonna cum so deep inside…”
Felix clings to him tighter. “So close, don’t stop.”
Digging his fingers into Felix’s hips, Chan keeps thrusting up into Felix’s hole as it begins to clench. He feels Felix’s cum begin to leak on his stomach before he feels his hole tighten up on his cock. Felix’s moans never pause, and Chan feels himself tip over the edge.
Moaning Felix’s name, Chan cums inside. When he’s too tired to ride out his orgasm, Felix squirms, fucking his cock back in and out rather than resting as Chan unloads. Panting and quickly heading into oversensitivity, Chan has to grab him to get him to limply melt into his body instead.
“It’s not a toy,” Chan pants out quietly, still holding Felix as they both catch their breaths.
“It could be,” Felix responds simply.
Chan tries not to think about it lest he get hard again.
A few minutes pass, Felix’s cum drying between their bodies, before Felix speaks.
“So… boyfriend, huh?”
“Yeah,” Chan says, huffing out a laugh.
“I’ll allow it,” Felix jokes.
Chan strokes Felix’s back once. “Gee, thanks.”
Laughing devilishly, Felix leans in and kisses him.
It’s a busy Friday night, and Heavenly Bodies is packed as usual. Chan barely has time to breathe, let alone think, but his eyes still manage to find the time to periodically glance up to check on the newest server.
Felix is dressed in the standard all-black, and his personal take on the dress code has resulted in a pair of short shorts and a button-up shirt just loose enough not to draw attention to his chest. The patrons eat it up, too—every small sway of his hips, every sly smile, every movement of his blond hair. Alone, he’s already racked up a dozen glowing Yelp reviews, citing his pretty face remarkable ability to deliver drinks at record speed.
Chan’s seen it enough times to know—a drink looks like it’s going to fall from his tray but somehow manages to correct itself in the blink of an eye, he dodges flailing arms with an eerie precision and ability to think ahead, the customers will fat wallets always seem extra generous toward him. To Chan and Felix, it’s magic; to everyone else, it’s luck, maybe even talent. There isn’t a dancer or regular in the club who isn’t in awe of him.
Like the drunk guy who’s whistling at Felix right before Chan’s very eyes. Chan grits his teeth as he watches the man turn to his friend, saying something undoubtedly lecherous. He trusts Felix, of course. Chan understands that playing along is part of the job, and a little flirting here and there does nothing beyond making ends meet—but that doesn’t stop the slow burn of jealousy in his chest.
When Felix passes by again to head back to the bar, the same man reaches out. His fingers meet the bare skin of Felix’s thigh.
Chan fully stops what he was doing, putting the shaker down to rest on the counter. He can’t look away.
Felix, though, doesn’t flinch. Instead, he gives the man a polite smile and says something that Chan has no hope of hearing over the music.
The guy laughs, seemingly interpreting whatever Felix said as a joke. Chan watches as his hand moves again toward Felix, now aiming for his hip.
His hand doesn’t make it before the chair he’s sitting on collapses in on itself, sending the man into the hard floor.
Laughter comes over the nearby tables as the man’s friend reaches down to help him up. Felix feigns shock, bending down to ask the man if he’s okay, but his eyes happen to meet Chan’s in the process.
Discernable only to someone who knows him well, Felix’s eyes sparkle with proud mischief. Lips curling into a smile, Chan can only shake his head. That gets him a quick grin in return. He watches as Felix takes the opportunity the commotion grants to saunter off and disappear into the busyness of the club like nothing happened.
Turning back to the front of the bar, where patrons wait to order drinks, Chan struggles to hold in his laughter.