Stray Kids one shots || honeyndwild

Chan | neck kisses

It came to him yesterday, the realization. The interesting truth. It wasn't like he hated it, no. He just wasn't expecting it. He wasn't expecting to fall for you so easily and so quickly. But he did. And he didn't have any idea what to do next.

You're reading a book. He watches you from the terrace, stands there, leaning on the railing. The wind is warm and soft, touching his cheeks playfully, and he can't stop thinking. Thinking and staring. At you.

The hammock swirls softly from side to side, and you're lying there, reading. Chan stares at the way the wind plays with your hair, at the way it sometimes disturbs you, not letting you turn the white pages in peace. The ocean hums softly to himself, lying further behind you, and the only thing Chan feels is contentment and peace. Everything that he loves is in front of him. The only thing he should do is to reach out and grab it. And then never let go.

You glance at him tiredly, when he comes closer. For a few seconds you just stare at each other, he, standing there, covering the evening sun with his broad back; you, lying in the hammock, trying to read your book. But then he smiles slightly, and you smile back, unable to hold it inside anymore. "What do you want?" Your voice sounds a little harsh and low, the cause of you not talking for hours. And you cough awkwardly, trying to return it to normal.

"Nothing," Chan shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "Just wanted to know how are you here, is everything alright and all."

"Everything is perfect," you smile, tossing the book aside, stretching.

"Good..." Chan sighs, his eyes never leaving you while you toss and turn in the hammock, trying to return your muscles to life. "They said the dinner time starts at 8. Do you want to go?"

"God, yes!" You growl, closing your eyes, smiling. "You can't imagine how hungry I am. What time is it now?"

"We have half an hour to ourselves."

"Okay," you sigh, glancing at him. "Then I'll read for a bit."

"I'll be in the house," Chan sighs, nodding to himself. "I'll call you, don't worry."

He comes away slowly as if he doesn't want it. With his shoulder slightly slumped, hands in the pockets of his shorts, and you stare back at him, anxiously biting your lips. You know he wants to ask something. You know he needs to talk. But somehow he backed away, and to see him like this now, struggling, beating himself for nothing makes you sad. And you make a decision quickly, without a second thought. "Chan!"

He turns to you too hurriedly, it startles you for a moment. But then you manage to smile, waving to him, "Do you, maybe, want to sit and wait with me?"

He comes back silently. The hammock sags when he slowly sits down and then swirls a little when he carefully lays back. He tries to leave some space between you two, at least a few centimetres between him and your bare hands and legs. But the hammock does its own thing, and at the end, Chan gives up, his skin finding contact with yours. And from that moment the book pages become blurry, and you stop reading.

The ocean's hum. Soft and far away, and still it mixes with the sound of your breaths, filling the uncomfortable silence, making it bearable. You stare at the words in front of your face, trying to understand them, trying to find the clue in all those perfectly straight lines. Chan stares at the palms above his head and at the sky behind them. He feels his right side of the body burning in every part where your skin touches his, and it drives him insane. And then he gives up completely.

"Y/n–"

"Chan–"

You glance at each other, confused, and he chuckles nervously, quickly looking away. "You first," he whispers, counting the palm's leaves above his head. But the words stuck in your throat, and you just nod in disagreement, "No, Bang, you first."

"Of course, I'm first," he sighs, smiling tiredly. Glances at you quickly, before turning to lie on his side, facing you now. "I–" he gulps, chuckling nervously. "I just– Fuck, you're so beautiful..." He smiles again, almost apologetically, and it makes your stomach swirl with something too strong and too powerful for you to handle you almost close your eyes in pain.

He stares at your face, at the way your eyes are shut closed, and at the way your knuckles are almost white, squeezing the book. And he just can't help himself but slide his hands around yours, taking the book out of your surprisingly cold fingers. He leaves his hand there, on your stomach, and it feels oddly big and heavy on your half bare skin.

"How–" your breath hitches in your throat, and you push the words out, trying to fill the silence with something, with anything, just not to let him hear your thrumming heart. "How much time is left before dinner?"

"Ten minutes," Chan exhales shakily, his fingers playing with yours. "Do you want to leave already?"

"No! Actually, I–"

It knocks you out, a new sensation on your neck. It tickles your skin, making goosebumps dance freely all around your body. But surprisingly you don't question it. And surprisingly you don't care anymore if Chan will hear your pounding heart or not.

He kisses your neck. For the first time hesitantly, barely noticeable, ready to run away if you won't allow it. But you don't move away, and you don't say a word, and by the way you grub his hand tighter, he knows he can do this. And from that moment he loses himself. Kisses become wetter and longer, his hand moves from yours to snake around your waist, pulling you close. And then you can feel his whole body pressing onto you, warm and heavy.

"I–" he exhales shakily into your skin, glancing at you, scanning your flushed face and shining eyes. "Do you still want to go to the restaurant?"

You shake your head too enthusiastically it makes him laugh soundlessly before leaving another small peck on your jawline, "Then what do you think if we'll order room service?"

"Only if it's going to be you who would talk to them on the phone," you pat his hand on your waist, making him squeeze it a bit tighter. "By the way, I want pizza."

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. The stare he gives you feels a hundred times more intense than the ones before, and it confirms your suspicions when he slowly presses his lips to yours. The kiss is short, a bit strong, and he whispers the next sentence right into your mouth, "Then the pizza is it."

You want to kiss him back, and you almost slide your hands around his neck, but he jumps to his feet and runs away to the house to make an order. Leaves you breathless and a bit annoyed. But happy.