drabble — big boys don't cry, but chan does.
The room felt heavy with heat, the air thick from the way you’d been pulling him closer all night. Bang Chan had been melting under your touch from the moment you started kissing him—soft, needy sounds slipping from his lips every time your hands wandered. He was always like this when you were especially hungry for him: pliant, submissive, eyes glassy with want as he let you take the lead.
“More…” he’d whispered earlier, voice already hoarse, hips twitching up eagerly as you sank down onto him. His hands gripped your waist, not guiding, just holding on like you were his anchor. Every roll of your hips drew out the sweetest little whimpers from him—breathy moans, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. He looked beautiful like this; flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted and eyes half-lidded in bliss. He gave himself over completely, letting your heat consume him, matching your rhythm with desperate, obedient little thrusts.
You leaned down to kiss him deeply, and he moaned into your mouth, fingers digging into your back as if he couldn’t get close enough. For a while it was perfect, raw, intense, and full of that familiar needy energy he only showed you.
But then something shifted.
His breaths grew shakier. The soft whimpers turned into something tighter, more fragile. You felt the first hot tear slip from the corner of his eye and streamed down his temple.
“Chan…?” you slowed, searching his face.
He tried to keep going at first, biting his lip hard as another tear escaped, then a quiet, broken sob. His hips stilled completely, and his whole body started trembling beneath you. The overwhelming wave finally crashed over him.
You cupped his face with both hands, gently easing back so you could see him properly. His eyes were squeezed shut, lashes wet, tears sliding down his temples and into his hair. His chest heaved with uneven breaths.
“Baby, hey… breathe,” you whispered, stroking your thumbs across his damp cheeks. “Did I go too hard?”
He shook his head quickly, a weak, watery sound escaping him. “N-no… I just—” His voice cracked. “I feel too much tonight. You’re so warm and close and I… I can’t hold it back anymore.”
You didn’t push. Instead, you carefully rolled you both until you're on your back, still connected but no longer moving. You draped yourself over his chest, grounding him with your weight and warmth, pressing soft kisses to his forehead, his wet cheeks, his trembling lips.
“It’s okay,” you murmured. “We can stop. I’ve got you.”
Chan’s arms wrapped tightly around you as the tears kept coming. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes… today was shit and I wanted to feel good with you but now I’m ruining it—”
“You’re not ruining anything,” you said firmly, threading your fingers through his hair. “Let it out, Chan. I’m right here.”
He cried quietly against your neck while you held him, whispering gentle reassurances until the tension slowly drained from his body. When the sobs finally eased into soft sniffles, he looked up at you with red, shiny eyes and that shy, crooked smile you adored.
“Can we just stay like this?” he asked, voice small.You smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “As long as you need, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
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