Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jisung’s hand grips around Minho's hard leaking length, making his breath stutter. His hips jerk up of their own accord when he feels plump lips wrap around the head. He feels just about ready to combust on the spot, his limbs practically liquefied, his mind a swirl of feel good hormones rendering all but the most basic functions of his brain obsolete at the moment. He lets out a loud moan. Jeongin covers his mouth with his hand, shushing him with a chuckle. 

“Someone's gonna hear you if you don't keep your voice down hyung.” Jeongins grin goes wider. “But maybe you'd like that, huh?” He noses at Minho's throat, not exactly helping with the whole stay quiet business. Minho keens against the hand covering his mouth, not able to hide how the words go straight to his cock, making it twitch against Jisung's lips.

Minho melts into the embrace, allowing himself to be moved like a puppet in Jeongin's lap. His head lolls to the side on Jeongins shoulder, and he catches their reflections in the corner of his eye. It's a mistake to look, but it's too late, his eyes are drawn there like magnets. The image of himself splayed out over Jeongin’s lap on the floor, Seungmin and Jisung on their stomachs between his legs - it's an assault to all his senses, and it does nothing to stave off the oncoming wave of need and arousal threatening to drown him. He scrunches his eyes shut, moaning brokenly against Jeongin's warm palm, drool running down his chin despite the obstruction.

The alarm yanks Minho out of the dream with a start. His chest heaves as he fights to regain his breath and orient himself of where he is. He tilts his head to squint menacingly at the ray of sunlight daring to peek through the gap in the curtains he didn't close properly last night. He fumbles to turn the alarm off with a groan, running a hand down his face, trying to clear his head of the remnants of the dream. 

'Again.' he thinks.

He rolls out of bed bleary eyed, still not fully awake, adjusting himself in his pants as he does. He goes through his morning routine on autopilot, trusting his muscle memory to carry him through it. He wills his morning erection to go away, and he's out the door before the rest of the dorm have even begun to stir, the recurring dream still nagging at the corners of his mind.

Minho may have a problem. Or, more accurately, he may have a tiny little obsession that's becoming problematic. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he had any real reprieve from it, but he's just not that lucky.

Minho is obsessed with Jeongin's hands. 

It's not unusual kink to have, a thing for hands. Comparatively speaking, it's on the tame side of things. It's not a new development for Minho either, no, he'd discovered his particular penchant for hands many many years ago. It was impossible not to, being part of this particular group and all. Only a fool wouldn't realize it surrounded by them everyday. He'd come to terms with this aspect of himself, embraced it even.

Minho has excellent taste in all things, he prides himself on not settling for subpar anything, be it food, drink or objects of fascination. Being the connoisseur of finer things he is, it hadn't escaped Minho's notice that several of his bandmates were in the possession of hands worthy of fascination, and despite their differences, they all satisfied his secret kink in different ways. That being said, he'd had a particular thing for the youngest member's hands since as far back as he can remember. Maybe not from day one, but certainly since the first few months as a group. And as they'd grown as a group, and Jeongin grew up so to speak, his hands developed along with the rest of him, much to Minho's surreptitious delight and appreciation. Nothing out of the ordinary there, nothing new. Just his little secret.

The obsession part though, that is new. And the newness is driving Minho a little crazy. 

He'd learned years ago to steal glances, and observe without being perceived. He never did anything more than look anyways, nor did he really desire to do more than admire. If anyone ever caught on or felt uncomfortable, they never said anything, so he was fairly certain it was still his well kept secret. Years ago he'd learned to school his facial features into the stone cold marble statue everyone knew, perfecting his poker face, not letting on what was actually going on under the surface. He rarely slipped up, and most of the instances where he did, were no slip ups at all. Rather, they were calculated moves to drive Stays wild, fanservice at its best. 

He'd read a comment while lurking online one night (as one does), saying something to the effect of Minho being the official fanservice provider of the group. 

It had made him smirk, secretly feeling proud to be thought of as such by Stay. If he took it to heart and made it a point to amp up the fanservice a little in the next few months, that’s no one's business but his own, and no one could prove otherwise. 

Keeping a poker face if he truly wants to, even under the most blatantly embarrassing circumstances, that's something he excels at, prides himself on. Or rather, excelled at. He used to be able to keep his mask up no matter what. Certainly when doing something so mundane as looking at another member's hands. While looking at Jeongin's hands even. He'd been doing it for years after all!

He was able to, that is until a week ago. Until The Incident. 

Minho manages to keep his mind on other things for the most part throughout a busy day. If he’s preoccupied enough he won't think about The Incident. 

He'd taken to calling it that in his mind, like the title page of a book. If he didn't and thought of it beyond just the title of “The incident”...

Unbidden and against his will, images flash through his mind; Jeongin's hands on his chest. Jeongin's fingers wrapped around his throat. Jeongin's fingers tight in his hair... Stolen glances in the mirror he'd been helpless to resist. He's sure Jeongin had noticed it too at some point. He hadn't commented on it, but he'd made sure to keep Minho's face turned towards the reflective wall, not allowing him to hide into the crook of his neck, or turn away for long. The images now live rent-free in the deepest murkiest recesses of his brain, ready to assault him at the barest provocation. 

And so, rather than face the barrage of images perfectly curated to spike his blood pressure and make even the iciest poker face crumble, he calls it The Incident in his mind, and it works as a barrier of sorts. If he only visualizes the word “The Incident” in his mind hard enough, he’s okay. Like a locked chest for the images, The Incident engraved on the lid along with all the warning stickers he can imagine. 

He’ll get through the day, and be fine. Until Jeongin does something stupid with his hands again, like pick up a water bottle and unscrew the cork and bring it to his lips – and the chest would fly open and the assault would start anew.

Why his mind has decided to fixate so desperately on Jeongin's hands over anything else that had happened that day, is a mystery to him. It probably has something to do with the fact that Minho mostly felt, rather than saw what Seungmin (and later Jisung) had done to him, as well as heard, a whole separate problem, but a problem that thankfully isn’t making his professional life difficult. Seungmin and Jisung don’t sound like that in public. Seungmin and Jisung don’t touch him like that , in public. Yeah, it probably has something to with the lack of visuals, he reasons. Certainly no underlying hidden feelings bubbling to the surface, no, perish the thought. He buries such thoughts back down where they belong.

Now, if Minho found himself thinking about how Seungmin and Jisung had felt or sounded like in the privacy of his own bedroom, doors locked, curtains drawn, music on full blast to drown out any other noises, it’s entirely his prerogative to do so, not like the mind-police is going to come arrest him for it. It’s all neatly stacked back into the chest after use, locked away, and much easier to deal with. 

Seungmin even displays gentlemanly behavior Minho thought beyond him, in doing his best to give him space and hide the knowing smirk whenever they'd run into each other in the hallway after; once Minho had unlocked the door and turned the volume down to more humane levels. 

Jisung had teased him about the whole ordeal the few times they'd hung out solo afterwards, only stopping after Minho honestly begged him to drop it. Nothing had really changed between them after, something Minho was grateful for, but frankly, not surprised; This is Jisung after all. He can’t think of a single thing happening between them short of murder, that would change their dynamic. And Seungmin is just Seungmin. They aren’t really a problem, outside of Minho's sometimes intrusive thoughts, and he's found ways to deal with those issues he feels. No, they aren’t the problem.

The problem is Jeongin. Jeongin's hands, the bane of Minho's existence, aren’t so easy to deal with.

Back in the day (more than a week ago) Minho could look and appreciate them with a distantly detached sort of appreciation, like an art curator admiring a well crafted piece of art. 

Now, he has trouble forming words, breathing, remembering how to swallow the onslaught of saliva threatening to spill forth every time Jeongin does anything remotely arousing with his hands in Minho’s proximity, in public as well as in private. And Minho is discovering that just about anything can be arousing when Jeongin’s hands are involved.

Minho tries to remember if Jeongin has always been so vocal with his hands. Has he always wiggled his fingers so much when he speaks? Did he always run his fingers through his hair when concentrating on something? Has he been touching his own neck that much when looking for the right words to describe something this whole time? Surely Jeongin hadn't touched Minho so often and so casually when he passed by before?!  

Minho honestly can’t remember what it had been like before The Incident, but he’s convinced it’s a new change. And that Jeongin is doing it on purpose. He has no actual proof to back this up, of course; Aside from the touches (and Minho honestly can’t recall if they have or haven’t always been there) Jeongin has acted almost comically normal after “The Incident”. Not giving Minho the knowing looks Seungmin sometimes sports. He doesn’t tease him like Jisung has done. Minho knows where he stands with Jisung. He is pretty certain of where he stands with Seungmin too. He has no clue really where he stands with Jeongin now. They've barely spoken outside of work related instances, and then only exchanged a few words.

Minho had wanted to talk, but they'd had neither the time nor the opportunity to do so in the aftermath. Not all of them together anyways, and Minho was hesitant to do it one-on-one in case someone felt left out. At least that's what he keeps telling himself, the convenient excuse easier to swallow than the truth. Deep down he knows it would solve all his inner turmoil if they just spoke about it, but that requires admitting out loud what he is hesitant to admit even to himself, opening up about his own feelings on the matter. The mere thought of it terrified him. So he's made excuses, burying the scary feelings deep down whenever they bubble up, and before he knew it, a week had passed by. Minho doesn’t know how the rest are coping, if they’re struggling at all, but he is at his wits end. 

It’s mostly Jeongin's fault, Minho concludes. Someone needs to be blamed and Jeongin and his stupid hands fit the bill.

Minho does his best not to spend any unnecessary alone-time around Jeongin if he can help it. His nerves are frayed enough without tempting fate. With how busy they all are these days, it’s actually proving to be easier than he thought it’d be, despite sharing a dorm. 

Minho's naturally an early riser, and he's made a habit lately of being out of the house before Jeongin’s even woken up. His excuse to Yongbok has been that he’s working out early with Chan. Hating to lie to him, Minho had actually ended up making truth of the lie, and had worked out with Chan a few times, his body screaming in protest at the mistreatment every time. When Chan was busy, he killed time by running through their routines at the studio (avoiding the main practice room at all costs) or looking up new food places to try out until the others arrived and the work-day began. If anyone else noticed this change in behavior, they didn't comment on it, for which he is grateful. 

He can do this. It will pass after a while, whatever this new obsession is. It has to. 

It doesn’t.

If anything, it grows legs and starts salsa dancing all over Minho's poor nerves, maracas snapping to the beat of his resolve crumbling away.

The dreams don’t help – becoming a nightly occurrence. Waking up out of breath, achingly hard, mortified and exhausted. The makeup-noonas have to use more concealer than usual to cover up his dark circles, but they never comment on it, bless them. 

There's just no way it's all coincidental, Minho's sure of it, and he doesn't have the willpower to keep his eyes away for long either. He regrets it every time his eyes stray, but he's just a man, and not a very strong-willed one, if the turn his life has taken lately is any indicator. Time and time again he finds his eyes wandering over to the youngest member, drawn there like those magnets, and time and time again he finds himself cursing Jeongin anew inside his mind. 

No one takes that long putting on hand lotion! How thorough do you need to be; making sure to rub it into every nook and cranny over and over again! No one takes that long a time licking their fingers clean after eating chicken! No one caresses and grips the steering wheel of a car like that! No one except Yang “The Devil” Jeongin. Minho fights not to squirm in the passenger seat, Jeongin seems oblivious to the torment he's putting him through. He fears he'll go bald with how often he's pulling his own hair in frustration these days due to Jeongin's supposedly innocent antics. 

The only reprieve he's found is when he makes it home at the end of the day and crawls into bed, praying for a dreamless night. So far his prayers have gone unanswered.

He's sweating. It's too damn hot! It's no wonder, with three grown men pressing in around him. Why is he the only one not wearing any clothes? They should all be naked, he thinks, thoughts sluggish. 

He tries to voice the thought, but the sounds coming out of him aren't words, more akin to loud keening in between panted breaths. Blushing a deep crimson, he clears his throat to try again, only to have the sound swallowed up by eager lips. Whose lips? He's not sure. He opens a bleary eye ( when did he close them ). Round dark eyes, flushed round cheeks. He catches Jeongin moving to the side in his periphery and feels someone pressing up behind him, under him. He focuses on the face in front of him, the lips sliding against his own, the insistent warm tongue requesting access into his mouth. Minho's lips fall open on a moan, tongue moving forward to tangle with Jisung’s. Jisung pulls far enough away to give him a wink (a damn wink, the audacity!). He looks at Minho's dazed expression, a wide smirk spreading across his face. 

Jisung climbs into Minho's lap, making both him and Seungmin under him groan. Jisung only giggles, rocking his hips against Minho's thigh, letting out a content sigh.

“You looks so pretty like this, hyung.” Jisung runs his fingers along Minho's hip bone, playfully tickling them over his bellybutton, his eyes twinkling.

“Wish I could have seen it all.” he whispers breathlessly, his voice dropping lower with lust. Minho can't stop the blush spreading up his ears at the comment, at the tone, at the way Jisung’s eyes roam over his exposed body. He squirms in place, but it's impossible to hide.

“Want me to show you?” Seungmin grins. Minho can't see him, but he hears the grin in his voice.

“Should we show Sungie how we made hyung cry out?” Jeongin leans in closer, breathing the words against Minho's ear, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind it. He blatantly ignores the indignant huff Minho lets out at being talked about like he's not even there, like he's too far gone to understand them! 

He's getting dangerously close to the cotton brain state again, where he would, in fact, be too far gone to understand. If Seungmin keeps stroking his hips like that, if Jeongin keeps mouthing at his neck like that, if Jisung keeps moving his hands up his sternum – Minho cries out when Jisung’s fingers graze over his abused nipples, the barest touch of his fingertips enough to send jolts of electricity down his spine. He nuzzles into Seungmin's neck, quiet moans breathed against his collarbone, trying to hide the embarrassed flush of his face. 

Jisung won't have it, and he leans in closer, capturing Minho's unsteady gaze. Holding the eye contact, Jisung moves in, flicks his tongue out with a smirk, leaving a wet line along Minho's pec, over one pert nipple. Minho jolts in Seungmin's lap at the contact, biting down hard on his lower lip, lest he starts begging. His breath comes out as ragged pants through his nose, his pupils blown so wide, his eyes must look like pure black slits. His previously exhausted cock has taken up the mantle with renewed vigor, lying thick and heavy against his hip, already leaking. 

“So sensitive, hyung.” Jisung muses against the warm skin, his cheek nuzzled in the middle of Minho's chest. Every time he moves his head, his hair tickles at Minho's tender flesh, making him quiver. Minho whines, trying to wiggle backwards, Seungmin's solid form behind him preventing him from getting very far.

Jisung lifts his head, locking eyes with Seungmin over Minho's shoulder. He motions down with a tilt of his head, raising his eyebrows suggestively, his smile turning into a smirk again.

“Show Sungie how we made hyung cry out” – the words finally register in Minho's laggard brain as he feels Seungmin move behind him. Showing a surprising amount of strength, Seungmin pulls Minho up by the armpits and halfway off his lap, making him yelp. He gets passed over to Jeongin who slides into place as Seungmin moves over next to Jisung. Minho is gaping dumbly at them while Jeongin wraps strong arms around his waist, nuzzling into the back of his neck with a pleased hum. The casual way with which they manhandle him between them is frying his brain. 

Jeongin arranges him how he wants to in his lap, tightening his grip around Minho's torso, making him moan low in the back of his throat. Minho cranes his neck to look at him. Jeongin smiles and with a gentle yet firm grip around Minho's jaw, turns his head to face the mirrors, capturing his gaze in the reflection instead. His eyes have an intensity to them Minho has only ever seen on stage, they silently command Minho not to turn away, to not close his eyes. To look. And Minho, hypnotized by those eyes, is unable to disobey. He looks. 

Looks as Jisung lies down on his stomach, crawling closer. Looks as Seungmin follows suit, pushing Minho's legs wider apart to make room. Looks as Jeongin's long fingers glide up his chest, wrap around his neck, as his teeth bite into his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Minho's. Even when he feels Jisung’s hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin at the junction of his thigh and groin, a sensation that makes goosebumps break out all along his legs, even when he feels Seungmin's wet tongue swipe up his length; he keeps looking, fighting his fluttering eyelids that have suddenly grown heavy. He slumps against Jeongin’s chest, gasping for breath, whimpering loudly, but he keeps looking. Jeongin nuzzles at his temple, and whispers into his ear.

“Good boy. Being so good for me, hyung.” Only then is Minho able to tear his eyes away with a sob, his body spasming in Jeongin's lap, Jisung and Seungmin's hands holding down his bucking hips.

Minho's eyes fly open at the first blare of the alarm, a choked cry lodged in his throat. He stares up at the ceiling, paralyzed in place, star-fished across the bed. He feels his heart thundering in his chest, feels the sweat gather in the dip between his collarbones. Feels the duvet as an uncomfortable weight against his cock. He takes a deep breath, the exhale more shaky than we would have liked, fumbles blindly to the side until his fingers find the phone, and he's able to turn the alarm off. 

Minho sighs heavily, trying to rid his brain of the last vestiges of the dream. 

“ Again?” He sighs. It’s really been happening every night for a week now; he’s dreaming the same thing night after night - is it still considered a dream if it's just a replay of actual events? He makes a mental note to look up the definition of dreams. 

Pulling the covers to the side, he eyes the tent in his sleeping pants almost accusingly. He wars with himself, whether to ignore it again, try and will it away, or give in once more, knowing it'll physically alleviate some of the strain, but at the cost of adding to his mental turmoil. He's felt guilty for some reason whenever he's used The Incident as fuel for taking care of business, even if no one else knows but him. 

He's made sure Jeongin's out of the dorm whenever he indulges, unable to even think about the mortification if he caught him. Yongbok is none the wiser about the reason behind Minho's seemingly sudden fondness for blasting loud music alone in his room. Being very open about discussions of the bodies baser needs, Yongbok sees no reason to hide what he does. They're all guys after all, he reasons, why be embarrassed about jerking off? He hadn't put the two together, and Minho’s secretly glad for his easy-going nature. He honestly doesn't think he'd be able to keep it all in if Yongbok cornered him about what's going on; he'd end up spilling it all.  

Seungmin gives him the knowing looks of course, but he'd always done that whenever he'd suspected anything of the sort in the past too, before The Incident. Like, if Minho took an extra long shower or something, Seungmin would give him that look. 

Jeongin had never made any such comments about it, about himself or any of the other members. He'd always avoid the subject if anyone else brought it up, would outright glare at anyone who dared make fun of him for it too, so Minho honestly didn't know how he felt on the subject aside from being very private about it. 

After The Incident, Minho would rather get hit by a taco truck than have Jeongin catch him.

He taps his phone awake, checking the time. It's still early enough that no one should be up.

He tip-toes over to the door just to make sure, opening it ajar as quietly as possible. Poking his head out, he takes in the quiet dorm. All the other doors down the hall are closed, the living area looks deserted. He can't hear any water running from the bathroom either.

He ducks back in, quietly closing the door behind him. He leans heavily against the wood, letting his head fall back. He inhales sharply through the nose and lets a hand wander down his abdomen. He groans as he grips himself through the fabric, hips bucking up on their own. He tugs the waistband down far enough for his cock to spring free, just below the swell of his ass. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he wraps his fingers around the throbbing length, conjuring up images of longer fingers doing it for him, of wet tongues running over him. It's a little dry at first, but he's already leaking at the tip. Swiping his thumb over the slit, he gathers the moisture there to help with the glide, sighing in pleasure as the strokes become easier. He bites his lower lip, trying to muffle the sounds spilling forth, panting harshly through his nose as he speeds up the movement of his hand. 

He pictures, no, remembers how Seungmin and Jisung had made him fall apart, how their mouths had felt running along his length in sync, how their lips would meet at the head, their tongues licking up the precum, licking at each other- 

It doesn't take long. Already so close just from the dream, it takes an embarrassingly short time to send him over the edge. He cums with a muffled cry, biting into his knuckles to stifle the noise. He gulps heavily, blinking away the fuzziness as he rides the last waves of his orgasm. Looking down at his soiled hand, chest heaving,  he struggles to catch his breath. He thumps his head back against the door with a groan, scrunching his eyes shut tightly, the post-nut clarity and shame quickly replacing the feel-good hormones washing through his system. 

Minho cleans himself up as best he can using wet wipes, not daring to tarry any longer and risk running into any of his dorm mates. He'll just shower at the studio, he reasons.

He slips out of the bedroom as quietly as possible, bee-lining it for the entrance. 

He completely misses the vaguely human shaped bundle covered in blankets on the couch in his haste. He doesn't notice the bundle stir as he passes by. Doesn't see fox-like eyes peek over the covers, arching into half moons as they follow Minho's retreating form out the door. 

Chapter Text

The day flies by in a bit of a blur; group meetings, run throughs, last minute fittings. Minho manages to get through it all without imploding, without throttling Jisung, without chopping Jeongin’s hands off.

He can do this. He can so do this! He can do this? The mantra repeats over and over his head and he's doing his utmost to focus. They have a shoot in a few minutes, and he has to get his head in the game. He's getting his makeup touched up, so focused on focusing he doesn't hear someone walking up behind him before a shadow looms over his shoulder. He looks up without thinking, regretting it instantly. 

Jeongin half leans over him from the side to get to the mirror, resting one hand on the counter. Minho’s eyes zero in on the long perfectly manicured fingers instantly. Staring at his own reflection, Jeongin adjusts the decorative choker snug around his neck, fingertips running along the beads and chains embroidered into the fabric.

Minho swallows thickly, squirming in his seat at the proximity. Jeongin is standing so close their thighs brush against each other and Minho can feel the heat against his leg through the denim. He finds himself sliding deeper into the chair, making the makeup-noona squeak in alarm when the movement causes her to smear the lipstick she'd been applying, leaving a pink streak up over his nose. Jeongin barely glances over at them, finishing adjusting the accessory before straightening up and walking away. Minho swears he sees him smirking as he walks by. He follows the reflection of Jeongins retreating back until he rounds a corner and disappears from view. Minho slumps even further into the seat, his head barely peeking up over the backrest, and earns a scolding when it makes the makeup-noona mess up again.

“Okay, spill it!” Minho chokes on his noodles at the sudden outburst from his dining companion. Jisung looks pointedly at him across his own bowl of ramen. They’re in the JYPE building's cafeteria, in one of the closed off rooms in the back reserved for the artists. Minho coughs while looking at Jisung, raising an eyebrow at him questioningly. 

“What?” he manages weekly between coughs.

“What, he says!” Jisung rolls his eyes as if he just stated the most obvious thing, and Minho’s being obtuse on purpose. He stuffs his cheeks full of noodles, still staring at Minho. Minho sips at his water, a blank look on his face, waiting for Jisung to elaborate. 

“Are you really gonna make me drag it out of you?” It comes out half mumbled with his mouth so full of food.

“Could you be more vague?” Minho shakes his head at Jisung's odd behavior. He’s usually not one to beat around the bush, not with Minho anyways. It’s unlike him to not just come out and say what he means to.“I honestly don’t know what you’re on about!” Minho takes a large mouthful of the soup-broth.

“Jeongin!” 

Minho chokes on the mouthful, hot broth snorting out his nose, a clear overreaction with how Jisung smirks down at him, lightly patting his back as he fights for air. He shoots a panicked glance over at the closed door despite knowing they can’t be heard in the other room. The whole point of the separate dining areas is so artists can eat in peace without being eavesdropped on by eager trainees and other staff while having a break.

“Oh, so now you know what I’m on about?” Jisung side-eyes him, taking a sip of his own broth, slurping loudly, just to annoy Minho. Fucking brat.

“Well?”

“W-Well, what?“ Minho still feels like his lungs are filled with liquid fire, but the worst of it has passed. He sets his utensils down, not trusting Jisung’s timing right now, opting to wait to finish eating until this conversation is over.

“You and Jeongin?” Jisung drags out the name in a put upon sweet voice, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. Minho’s immediately grateful for his foresight not to keep eating, he sputters and blushes in his seat, choking on air. 

“W-What– What about me and Jeongin?” His voice comes out shrill and high pitched, like it did when he went through puberty. “There is no me and Jeongin! You know, outside of, like all of us as a group, and I mean we’re dorm mates but that’s–” his rambling dwindles off to nothing at Jisung’s expression which screams ‘ Who are you trying to fool here?’

“What?” Minho spits out, grabbing his chopsticks so he’ll have something to do with his hands, looking down at the vegetables floating in his bowl.

“Are you honestly that much in denial?” Jisung’s snicker earns him a glare, one that would usually stop him from doing whatever it is that earned the look in the first place, but Minho must be losing his touch; all it serves to do is fire Jisung up even more judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m not in denia-”

“The fuck you’re not!” Minho balks at the expletive outburst. Jisung does cuss from time to time, they all do, but he’s rarely so explosive about it, and especially when directed at an older member. “You finally get it on with the guy you’ve been crushing on for years-”

“I’m not crushing on anyone-” Minho’s face burns, he’s positive the color would match the walls in practice room 1.

“Oh please, it’s so obvious it’s almost painful!” Jisung laughs humorlessly, waving away Minho’s weak interruption with a flap of his hand. “Why do you think me and Seungmin concocted this little scheme in the first place?”

“You what ?” Minho gapes, blinking rapidly at Jisung. His brain is struggling to make sense of what he just heard, the part in charge of processing a tad sluggish these days. Jisung and Seungmin? Scheme? His eyes widen as the pieces begin to slot into place, the bigger picture finally starting to take shape.

“Thought it would be harder to convince Innie to join in, to be honest. But he practically jumped at the chance. Strange that, wonder what the underlying reason could be - you might wanna dig into that a little. Just saying.” Jisung’s not looking at Minho, picking at his nails with a put-on air of nonchalance instead, like he’s talking about the weather, like he’s not just turned Minho’s world on its axis.

Minho’s face goes through several different emotions in a matter of seconds, eyes darting back and forth, blinking rapidly, you can practically hear the wheels turning in his head. He goes through several starts and stops of wanting to say something. Jisung waits patiently, picking at the flaking nail polish on his fingers, letting Minho take his time. 

“Wait, so, lemme get this straight; you and Kim Seungmin came up with this entire elaborate ruse…” Minho’s rubbing at his temples at this point, he can feel a tension induced headache coming on. “The piercing bet-”

“Actually the bet was just a happy coincidental means to an end. Who knew it would have that effect on you huh?” 

Minho ignores him and barrels on.

“The - the fucking foursome ” he stage whispers, glancing over at the door again. “All of it, just to make me admit I have a crush on Jeongin?!” If his eyes widen any more, they’re gonna fall right out of his skull. Jisung pouts innocently, trying to refrain from smiling.

“Pretty much.” he admits, shrugging one shoulder, smiling brightly at the flummoxed Minho.

“I don’t know what to say".” Minho stares out into nothing.

“A thank you would be a nice start?” Jisung offers, hopefully. He raises his hands in surrender at Minho’s glare. “No? Fine, have it your way.” He sighs and picks up his bowl to continue slurping his broth, casting sideway glances at Minho all the while. Minho shakes his head minutely in quiet disbelief, and despite himself, no small amount of awe.

“You’re low-key impressed aren’t you?” Jisung squints his eyes over the bowl at him, smirking against the porcelain. Minho narrows his eyes, tonguing his cheek. He hates how well Jisung can read him sometimes.

“A little bit yeah…” he admits reluctantly. 

They sit quietly for a few moments. Minho is just about to resume his now lukewarm meal, when Jisung breaks the silence.

“So?” Jisung looks at him expectantly. When all Minho can do in return is stare, he rolls his eyes with an impatient groan. 

“I swear, it’s like pulling teeth with you sometimes - are you gonna tell him?” Jisung whines loudly looking the very picture of exasperation. Minho looks at him like he just grew three heads, letting out a chortle of disbelief. 

“Now, why on earth would I do that?” Minho shakes his head incredulously. He’s been doing just fine for the past week, thank you very much! It will pass soon whatever this is, so why poke the bear unnecessarily? He feels confident in his ability to keep hiding his feelings ( he shudders internally at the thought). Not like anyone else aside from Jisung, and apparently maybe Kim Seungmin - Kim fucking Seungmin, the mastermind behind Minho’s personal hell - knows, so why even bring it up?

“Because you avoiding him is starting to become noticeable, and not just to me and Minnie.” Jisung suddenly looks more serious, the mood shifting away from teasing. “Minho-hyung…” 

Jisung looks at him imploringly, his eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown. Minho can’t stand that look, neither can he stand it when Jisung calls him hyung like that - despite their age difference, Jisung often neglects to call him hyung, opting for other nicknames instead. 

He tries his best to remember the honorifics in public, but when it’s just them, in private, Jisung only calls him hyung either when he’s whining and wants something, or when he’s being serious. Like now. He’s playing dirty, he knows Minho’s weak spot is wanting to be a good hyung, wanting to be there for his dongsaengs. Channie-hyung’s influence is strong.

“Look, either you talk to him, figure this thing out, or I’ll do it for you!” Jisung threatens, rudely pointing at him with his chopsticks to make a point before he continues eating. 

Minho knows Jisung means well, and he begrudgingly admits to himself that he is right, he does need to talk to Jeongin - sooner rather than later - if Jisung’s claim that others are noticing the shift in his behavior is true. Jisung would have no reason to lie about that. 

Minho’s lost his appetite, he pushes his bowl over to Jisung, letting him finish the food happily. He promises to talk to Jeongin soon before they part ways by the elevators, Minho going back up to continue dance practice, Jisung having some time to kill before his meeting. He plans to go back to the cafeteria to grab one of the parfaits he’d been eyeing earlier.

“By the end of the week, or else!” Jisung shouts over his shoulder before the elevator doors close, walking away briskly, not waiting for a reply. 

Minho leans his forehead heavily against the cool metal surface, looking at the digital floor display in the corner of his eye. When the elevator dings and the doors open, he pushes off the wall with a groan, shuffling his way down the hall. He absentmindedly bows his head to the few people he walks past, going on autopilot. Before he realizes it, he finds himself in practice room 1, the one place he’s been staunchly avoiding for a week now, making excuses why he prefers the other smaller rooms whenever someone asks. 

Of course they’d noticed, they were bound to. They aren’t dumb, even if they acted like it sometimes. Minho is the dumb one for thinking it would all just blow away on its own, like it was no big deal. It was a big deal. Is a big deal. Huge. Massive! The biggest deal ever, and time is ticking, it’s already Friday. If he wants to deal with this on his own terms before Jisung makes good on his threat, Minho better grow a pair - wrong analogy; he groans out loud as it conjures images in his mind that are counterproductive to figuring out how to deal with this dilemma. 

“Yah! Why does this have to be so hard?!” He yells out into the room at large, tugging at his hair in frustration. His voice echoes back at him in the empty space. He falls down into a crouch, hugging his knees, a self-soothing gesture. He suddenly feels rather small and lost. How the hell is he supposed to even broach the subject with Jeongin, when he’s having a hard time even meeting his eyes these days without his ears burning? When did his beautiful simple life become so complicated? He curses Jisung and Kim fucking Seungmin under his breath, needing someone to blame.

Minho returns to the dorm late, even Seungmin’s made it home before him, a rarity these days. He hears Seungmin and Jeongin in the younger’s room, and Yongbok is in his own room playing video games by the sound of it. 

Minho takes a quiet shower, before slinking away to his own abode, glad to not have to face any of his dorm mates right now. Sleep doesn’t come until late despite how tired he feels, his brain refusing to shut down for the night. He finally dozes off right as the sky begins to lighten to that pale translucent gray right before dawn. He feels groggy when the alarm rudely jolts him awake a few hours later, interrupting another one of his ‘dreams’. He’d tried googling the definition of dream vs reliving memories without becoming much wiser on the subject. People often found themselves reliving snippets of memories through dreams, but he’d failed to find any real information on why he was being tormented by the same damn memory night after night. His subconscious is probably trying to tell him something.

Minho groans, rubbing his eyes until he sees stars. It’s gonna be a long day, he can feel it.

He’s right, it’s a very long day. Full of stupid mishaps while dancing, Jisung giving him pointed looks all day, Jeongin just existing in is stupid sleeveless shirt. Minho’s frustration bubbles over at one point when Yongbok, sweet innocent Yongbok who’s done nothing to deserve Minho’s ire, makes a misstep and Minho snaps at him. Yongbok’s giggle dies in his throat at the sudden outburst and Minho could kick himself at the hurt look. The others stop what they’re doing too, eyeing him warily. Chan walks over to him, a worried frown in place. He gently places a hand on his shoulder, and Minho feels like he could cry.

“Minho-ya, you okay?” He says softly, eyeing Minho up and down. 

“Yongbok-ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, really, I-” Minho fumbles for what to say next, looking from Chan to Yongbok, a forlorn look on his face. “I didn’t get much sleep last night - not that that’s an excuse. I’m just not feeling like myself today.” Minho finishes embarrassingly keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Yongbok, refusing to look over at Jisung, feeling his eyes boring into his back.

Yongbok’s face lights up into his characteristic sunshine smile before he skips over and wraps his arms around Minho’s stiff form. Minho lets him, not even struggling, leaning his chin on Yongbok’s shoulder with a sigh.

“Is okay Minho-hyung, I forgive you!” Yongbok declares solemnly, making Minho chuckle, and pat his back, murmuring a thanks. Yongbok squeezes him one final time before letting go and stepping away, acting like nothing’s happened again. Chan still hasn’t moved from his spot.

“You really okay, mate? You know you can call it a day if you need it - we can work on individual parts today and pick it up again tomorrow?” Minho is almost tempted to just brush it off and insist he’s fine. But Chan’s genuine concern gets the better of him, so he reluctantly admits he might need a little break. Chan’s fond smile, the quiet look that tells him Chan is proud of him for voicing his needs instead of just stubbornly powering through, make his insides warm.

Minho packs up his stuff quietly, not really looking at the others, his mind preoccupied. He’s tired, and sleepy, and his brain is a jumbled mess. Time is running out, and he’s still no closer to finding a good way to communicate with Jeongin. He’s thought about it every time he’s found a solitary moment with him, like after the meeting last night, or at breakfast this morning, Jeongin having been up uncharacteristically early for once. But Minho is discovering himself to be a bit of a coward about this; he chickens out both times, and now he’s running away again. He drapes his hoodie over his shoulders as he makes his way out with a wave over his shoulder. He doesn’t see Jeongin staring at him, doesn’t notice Jisung catch Jeongin staring. He completely misses the silent exchange happening in the corner of the room.

Seungmin is at a late night vocal lesson again, preparing for another OST recording he has scheduled soon. He's been staying late rehearsing most nights the past week, so none of his dorm mates expect him home for dinner. They rarely get to eat dinner together these days, their schedules rarely overlapping to allow for it. Minho had also made sure to spend as much time out of the dorm lately, not wanting to risk being around Jeongin too much, but he’s out of luck tonight; his friend had canceled on their dinner plans; something about a deadline they’d forgotten about, and Jeongin’s vocal coach had come down with a cold and so here they are, both at the dorm with time to kill. Minho didn’t have the heart to decline Yongbok when he enthusiastically declared dinner is on him since they could finally eat together, also wanting to make up for his earlier behavior. Jeongin agrees with a dimpled smile, looking over Yongbok’s shoulder deciding what to order from the delivery app. 

Watching, or trying to avoid watching Jeongin eat spring rolls using his hands instead of chopsticks proves to be a monumental challenge for Minho. He practically inhales his own food, desperately trying not to look at the way Jeongin’s fingers glisten with grease. He makes his escape just as Jeongin finishes licking his fingers clean, but being the weak (and possibly masochistic) man he is, he only makes it as far as the couch before he hears Jeongin agree to help Yongbok make cream puffs. 

His head swerves back towards the kitchen, his body comically frozen mid-step for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him.

So that’s how he finds himself sitting on the couch, nose firmly planted between the pages of a book he’s not actually able to concentrate on, stealing glimpses at the kitchen over the top of the pages. 

Yongbok helps tie an apron around Jeongins waist and roll up his sleeves for him. Minho quickly averts his eyes, focusing back on the novel in his hands.

Try as he might, the words make no sense to Minho. They jump in front of his eyes, the primary part of his brain focused on the sounds coming from across the room instead. Jeongin is finishing whipping the cream under Yongbok’s instructions. His forearms flex as he beats it into stiff peaks, while Yongbok triumphantly pulls out a tray of puffs from the fridge that he’d made that morning, ready to be filled.

Minho keeps glancing over at them, he can’t help himself. Jeongin laughs at something Yongbok says, eyes forming upturned crescents, his cheeks dimpling. He tucks an errant strand of hair behind his ear, and Minho’s mouth fills with saliva as if the movement triggers some kind of Pavlovian response. He watches as Jeongin cleans the counter top, the book long since forgotten across his lap. 

Yongbok demonstrates how to fill a piping bag with cream, having Jeongin mimic him. Jeongin overfills it by a little, some of it spilling out onto his hands. He licks the excess off his fingers, meeting Minho’s eyes as he does.

Minho sputters and hurries to bury his face in the book again, his cheeks burning, ignoring the quiet chuckle from the kitchen. He’s mortified at having been caught staring like some lovesick teenager. Sinking deeper into the couch cushions, he prays it will swallow him whole. His embarrassment doesn’t deter him from daring another peek over top of the book though, not when he hears Yongbok instructing Jeongin on how to fill the cream puffs. Yongbok demonstrates by filling several of them in quick succession, working like a seasoned baking pro. 

“I told Hyunjinnie I’d drop some off the next time I made them". Yongbok is saying while piping cream into the puffs. “He felt miffed at not having gotten any last time, so I said I’d make an extra large batch this time, too big for Innie to finish all on his own.” He winks playfully, nudging Jeongin in the ribs with his elbow. It makes Jeongin squeak, light pink dusting his cheeks as he chuckles in embarrassment. Yongbok looks expectantly over at Jeongin, encouraging him silently to give it a go. Jeongin hesitantly picks up the bag of cream.

Yongbok glances at the clock, suddenly cursing under his breath at how late it’s gotten.

“Shit, I promised to meet Hyunjin in like 10 minutes!” He flies into a frenzy, tearing off his apron.

“You can finish up, right Innie? It’s not that difficult, just do what I did - shit, sorry” He stumbles in his haste, knocking his knee against the cabinet door in the process. He packs some of the finished puffs into a plastic container.

“Hyung can help you if you need it, right Minho-hyung?” Yongbok directs imploringly at Minho, already inching towards the hallway, stuffing the box of baked goods into his bag. Who in their right mind can deny Yongbok anything? A much stronger man than Minho for sure. 

Minho nods with a sigh, getting up from the couch, earning a bright smile and a hurried thank you in return, and then Yongbok is dashing out the exit, the slamming of the door loud in the suddenly quiet kitchen. 

Minho stares at the closed door probably for longer than would be considered normal under ordinary circumstances, steeling himself before turning away.

“You don’t have to help, hyung, I can do it by myself.” Jeongin’s not looking at him as he picks up a puff. “You can go back to your book, it seemed a riveting read.” The corner of his mouth quivers on a barely suppressed smirk. Blood rushes to Minho’s face so fast he feels almost lightheaded. He stands there like a statue, unable to come up with a suitable retort. Jeongin keeps his gaze fixed on the pastry in his hand, picking up the bag of cream with the other, trying to emulate what Yongbok had done seemingly effortlessly. 

Minho watches as if in slow motion as Jeongin squeezes the bag, only, he does so in the middle of it rather than at the end, neglecting to cover the open end entirely. He watches as the cream that’s meant to go smoothly out of the tip and into the baked goods, squirts out the back of the bag instead.

Jeongin yelps as the cold cream hits him in the face, dribbling down onto his chest. He scrunches his eyes shut to shield them, dropping both the puff and the bag, cream flying everywhere as it topples the half-full mixing bowl, making even more of a mess. Minho squeaks at the sudden clang, and then bursts out laughing before he can help himself, high and breathy, clapping his hands. Jeongin squints up at him through one bleary eye, wiping at his face, his own laughter spilling forth despite the cream stinging his eyes. 

Minho takes pity on him, darting over to the sink to grab a clean towel, wetting it, before stepping over to Jeongin, still laughing under his breath. He grabs Jeongin’s jaw, wiping the cream from his eyes and cheeks before suddenly realizing what he’s doing, his body having moved before his mind caught up. He freezes in place mid-wipe. Jeongin opens his eyes, now unobstructed, their gaze locking.

Minho feels his face flush, noticing how close together they’re standing. Jeongin’s hands having fallen against Minho’s hips to steady himself while his eyes were closed.

Minho clears his throat and takes an awkward step back, suppressing the shiver threatening to wrack  his frame when it makes Jeongin’s fingers slide against his sides as they fall away.

“You can, uhm-” Minho holds out the wet towel, motioning to Jeongin’s face with his other hand. Jeongin takes the proffered piece of cloth, an unreadable expression on his face. He absently wipes at his face and chest, eyes never leaving Minho. 

Minho busies himself with cleaning up the rest of the mess before it dries, avoiding looking at Jeongin. Having wiped the counters clean, he’s about to bring the bowl of leftover cream to the sink, but he almost collides with Jeongin, who chooses that moment to take a deliberate step to the side, blocking his path. Minho glares at him, almost having upended the bowl onto himself. The admonishment dies on his tongue at Jeongin’s pinched expression. He lets the bowl be taken away when Jeongin gently pries it out of his grip and sets it back down on the counter.

“Hyung.” Jeongin’s voice is low, a strain to it Minho isn’t used to. He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand the expression he’s sporting, doesn’t understand why he’s blocking his path, why he’s taken several steps forward crowding Minho back against the kitchen counter.

“What?” Minho lets out an annoyed huff, looking anywhere but at Jeongin’s eyes. He notices what a terrible job he’s done of cleaning himself up, cream still staining his shirt, a streak of it still running down his cheek. 

Minho absentmindedly swipes at Jeongin’s cheek with his thumb. 

“You missed a spot, you bab-” he chokes on his words as his hand is halted when he goes to pull it back, Jeongin’s fingers wrapping snugly around his wrist. Jeongin’s eyes gleam suddenly as he brings Minho’s hand towards his lips. Minho’s eyes bulge and his breath stutters to a stop, unable to tear his gaze away. The broken sound Minho lets out when Jeongin runs his tongue over his thumb, is unnaturally loud in the quiet room. It serves to break him out of his stupor, and he tears his hand away as if burned, eyes wide, cheeks bright red. He’s panting.

“Hyung.” Jeongin’s eyes linger on the hand Minho is now clutching to his heaving chest.

“What?!” Minho cringes at how shrill his own voice sounds. His eyes darting back and forth, looking for an escape like some cornered animal.

“Hyung, we should-”

“What, we should what?” Minho interrupts, glaring accusingly at Jeongin, who’s expression softens in confusion. Jeongin’s calm demeanor only serves to amp up Minho’s distress. “What do you want from me?” Minho practically sobs, his hands falling dejectedly to his sides.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jeongin’s frown deepens. He stretches out a hand to grab Minho’s, meant to be a comforting gesture, but with the way Minho’s frayed nerves are unraveling, it only serves to push him further into a state of panic.

“Don’t-” Minho pulls his hands away, curling in on himself, starting to tremble with suppressed emotions. Jeongin looks confused and a little hurt, stepping in closer, arms open as if to embrace him.

“Hyung I-”

“No! Don’t ‘hyung'‘ me, don’t touch me!” Minho practically shrieks, eyes wide. Jeongin freezes in place, arms raised in a  show of surrender. Minho can’t stand to look at the hurt expression on his face, can’t stand that he’s the cause of it. He has to make this right, has to make him understand.

“Stop this…” he meekly begs, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“This?” Jeongin lets his arms fall to his sides, taking a small step back, head cocked to the side in bewilderment. He looks way too cute for Minho’s well being, especially when he brings up a hand to brush his hair back in that unintentionally seductive way that drives Minho nuts.

“God damn it, what are you doing to me?” Minho cries, tugging at his own hair in frustration, gritting the words out through clenched teeth. Jeongin’s eyes widen almost comically. Minho almost laughs out loud at his expression, fearing he might end up crying instead if he allows himself to do so. 

“What I’m doing?” Jeongin inquires with a puzzled chuckle.

Minho wants to scream. Why are words so fucking hard? Why can’t Jeongin just be a mind reader so this can all be over with? Minho blushes involuntarily at the thought of what Jeongin could have gleaned from his thoughts in the previous week if he actually held such powers.

“Yes, what you’re doing! You know damn well what you’ve been doing for the past week!” Minho’s accusation is met with stunned silence at first. But then Jeongin’s confusion melts away, and something else shows up in its place, an expression Minho is finding even more disconcerting face to face, rather than just through a reflection in a mirror. 

“Oh?” Jeongin wets his lips, making Minho’s heart rate spike with just one simple action. “What have I been doing?” His voice drops to a husky whisper.

“You know! You know!!” Minho’s glare could curdle milk, and yet it holds no power over Jeongin, nor does the accusatory finger he shakes in his direction.

“No, really hyung, what have I been doing? Jeongin takes a step forward, crowding into Minho’s personal bubble again, making it hard to breathe. He leans in, arms caging Minho in against the counter as he rests them on the countertop on either side of Minho’s hips.

“Be a good boy and use your words.” Jeongin breathes the words a mere inch away from his lips.

“Fuck!” Minho wails, scrunching his eyes tightly, balling his hands into tight fists. “That! That right there, that’s what you’ve been doing, and it’s driving me crazy!” He practically sobs, trembling, blinking rapidly at Jeongin, pleading with his eyes for him to understand the torment Minho has been going through lately, pleading for mercy.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jeongin’s voice holds no malice, all teasing suddenly gone. Minho stares dumbly at him, reeling from the whiplash. 

“Huh?” Minh’s incapable of forming a more intelligent response, his brain working on catching up.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jeongin articulates every word slowly and precisely, eyes wide and serious. “Do you not want this?” His words taper off almost hesitantly, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes roam over Minho’s face, like he’s looking for answers Minho’s mouth seems incapable of providing at the moment.

“This?” Minho repeats dully, feeling sluggish, reduced to answering with one syllable words. Jeongin leans back a fraction.

“Look” he exhales heavily, an almost pained expression in his eyes, “I was trying to give you space after what happened in the practice-” Minho squeaks in protest at the broached subject, eyes widening in alarm.

“In the practice room.” Jeongin continues pointedly. “Figured you’d come talk to me about it when you felt ready.” He runs a hand through his hair again, this time with a frustrated sigh. “But then a week passed, and you’ve been avoiding me like the plague, the others have even started to pick up on it!” Jeongin levels Minho with an accusatory look, the underlying hurt plain as day. Minho gulps guiltily, looking down at his toes, rubbing them together, unable to refute any of Jeongin’s accusations. 

“And then after I spoke to Jisung-hyung about it-”

“You talked to Jisung?!” Minho yelps, head whipping up to stare at Jeongin, his eyes bulging in dismay. Jeongin continues, choosing to overlook Minho’s growing panic. 

“Yeah, and when he told me what you’d s-” 

“He told you?!” Minho screams. “I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna kill him dead ! I’m gonna tear his cheeks off his face, the little traitor!” Minho is on the verge of hyperventilating, panic slowly giving way to rage. He’d been agonizing over how to best approach it before weeks-end, and Jisung had already spilled the beans ahead of time!

“Don’t maim the quokka, he didn’t mean to tell me hyung. He’s been worried about you, it just sorta spilled out. You can’t blame him for wanting to help! 

“I’m gonna mismatch all his socks, hide all his left shoes, shave his eyebrows off while he sleeps!” Minho mumbles under his breath, a faraway slightly unhinged look in his eyes.

“Can you stop plotting your revenge and listen to me, hyung?” Jeongin’s exasperated outburst brings Minho back to the present, revenge fantasies momentarily forgotten. 

“Even if Jisung-hyung hadn’t said anything, how was I supposed to ignore the sound of you moaning my name through the door the other day?” Jeongin’s words are firm, but his cheeks do color slightly at the admission. Minho’s face goes ghostly pale in return.

“You- W-What? No I didn’t! W-When? How?!” Minho’s voice grows shriller and more high pitched with every word, eyelids fluttering as the horror of Jeongin’s words fully register. He’d been so careful! How had he heard him?! No one had been up, he’d even checked!

“I’d fallen asleep on the couch, and your alarm woke me up.” Minho remains a frozen statue looking at Jeongin, trepidation growing. “And when you peeked out for a second, I got curious.” Jeongin admits shyly, chewing on his bottom lip. ”So I went to your door to check on you, and that’s when I heard you.” Jeongin finishes sheepishly, rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck.

Oh God. Oh my God just kill me. End my existence right now.

“I was about to go back when I realized what you were doing, I didn’t mean to intrude on your private time, but then you said my name and-”

“I did no such thing!” Minho gawks hysterically. Sure he’d been making some noise despite his best efforts, but no way had he moaned a name, surely no!

“You most definitely did.” Jeongin smirks knowingly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Did not!” Minho knows he sounds like a petulant child, but he doesn’t rightfully care right now.

“Did too! Right as you were about to cum by the sound of it.” Jeongin’s infuriating smirk widens. Minho wants to wipe it off his stupid pretty face.

“Liar!”

“Jeongin, I’m gonna cum, please let me cu-” Jeongin moans theatrically before he’s stopped by Minho’s panicked cry, and the hand clamped over his mouth as Minho launches himself forward to stop him. Jeongin stumbles backwards, his arms suddenly full of a panting Minho. He sways slightly under their combined weight, grabbing Minho’s hips to steady them. Their faces are only a few inches apart, and Minho’s heart is thundering so loudly against his ribcage, he’s sure Jeongin can feel it too, their chests pressed so closely together.

“Hyung?” Jeongin mumbles against Minho’s palm, breaking the silence. Minho slowly lowers his hand, eyes falling down to the plump lips of their own accord.

“Hyung, can I kiss you?”

Minho doesn’t move.

He can’t, he’s rooted to the spot, barely able to draw breath, ears ringing with Jeongin’s request. His entire being is focused on the way Jeongin’s face moves closer, the way his eyes linger hungrily on Minho’s lips, the way his hands tighten almost imperceptibly against Minho’s hip bones.

“Hyung, did you hear-” Minho surges forward, crashing their lips together, absorbing the startled gasp as he licks into Jeongin’s mouth. Jeongin’s only surprised for a moment, and then he’s enthusiastically kissing back, encircling his arms around Minho’s waist, running his hands up his back, pulling them even tighter against each other, swallowing every desperate moan Minho lets out.

Minho allows himself to melt into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Jeongin’s shoulders, his hands tangling into his soft hair, tugging lightly, earning him a shuddering gasp. He does it again and takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, greedily sucking on Jeongin’s tongue, their panting breaths mingling wetly. 

Jeongin stumbles as his knees go weak, breaking the kiss with a breathless chuckle. Minho regards him, eyes quivering with lust. Takes in his flushed cheeks, his brilliant smile, his sparkling eyes, and he thinks it might be the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Jeongin catches him staring, cocking his head to the side cutely.

“Cute.” Minho whispers, letting his fingers dance over Jeongin’s rosy cheekbone and down the side of his neck. Jeongin shivers at the touch, letting out a shaky breath, covering Minho’s hand with his own against his thundering pulse. 

Minho blushes in turn, not realizing he’d voiced the thought out loud, he really needs to nip that nasty habit in the bud, but doesn’t make a move to pull away despite the embarrassment. He’s done running away; Jeongin’s arms feel too good around him, his skin feels too good against his palm, his lips taste too good - who is he to deny himself the sweeter things in life when they’re so willingly being offered? Speaking of sweet - Minho smirks as he swipes at the cream still gathered on Jeongin’s neck, playfully wiggling his fingers between them.

“You’re really bad at cleaning up when you make a mess huh?” he teases quietly. Jeongin snatches his hand in his own again, pulling it close.

“Then you should show me how to do it, hyung.” Minho’s jaw drops as Jeongin brings Minho’s fingers up to his lips, wrapping them around the cream covered digits, his eyes fluttering shut with an appreciative hum, as if it’s the best thing he’s tasted in ages.

Minho lets out a quiet moan, his own tongue moving in sympathy as he watches Jeongin clean his fingers. He keeps licking at them long after all the cream is gone, leaving them glistening. Jeongin finally opens his eyes after what seems like ages, meeting Minho’s heated gaze, and groans through at the expression he finds there. Yanking Minho in by the wrist still in his grasp, he closes the distance between them, biting at Minho’s plump upper lip, licking in behind his front teeth with fervor. Jeongin puts Minho's arms around his own neck, sliding his hands down his sides, wanton needy sounds spilling forth between them, wet sounds of tongues and lips sliding over one another filling the room. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Minho is aware he'll probably be embarrassed as all hell later about his behavior, not to mention the noises Jeongin is drawing out of him. But between Jeongin’s hands squeezing him tightly and him sucking on his lips like they’re the tastiest treat he's ever had, Minho is having a hard time caring. It’s such a better use of his time to card his fingers through Jeongin's hair. It feels much more productive to pull at his sweater, finally getting to touch bare heated skin, tipping his head back with a purr, letting Jeongin mouth wetly at the skin there, feeling Jeongin's moan vibrate against him. Embarrassment is a waste of time, Minho concludes; a useless pastime better left for future-Minho to worry about.

Minho becomes aware of Jeongin's ragged breathing against his neck, his hands clutching at the back of Minho's shirt. Feeling emboldened by the sound, he pushes his hips forward in a slow roll, perfected by years of dancing, the friction causing them both to moan. Minho is reeling at the answering hardness he finds there, fingers itching the feel more. Before he’s able to though, Jeongin whines low in the back of his throat, and in a surprising display of strength that has Minho crying out in surprise, scoops Minho up into his arms by the back of his thighs, depositing him onto a clean spot on the countertop.

Jeongin divests himself of the apron and the soiled sweater with a huff, stepping in between Minho’s spread legs to recapture his lips before Minho can even blink. Minho instinctively wraps his arms and legs around Jeongin’s torso, moaning shamelessly into the kiss, finally being able to feel Jeongin's warm skin fully. The muscles of Jeongin's back ripple under his exploring fingers. All those hours at the gym with Changbin and Chan are really showing results.

Jeongin pulls their hips square against each other, grinding their fronts together, his hips stuttering when Minho bites down on his shoulder, unable to help it, the pleasure making him feel dizzy.

Minho licks at the bite, soothing the sting with his tongue, mewling at the taste of Jeongin’s flesh. He moves his fingers teasingly along Jeongin’s spine, feeling each bump as he goes, feeling Jeongin shiver against him, and pant wetly against his neck. Sliding his fingers in between the shoulder blades, Minho teases along the dip down the middle.

Jeongin jolts against him with a yell. Minho lets go of him instantly, looking on in confusion. His eyes widen when he takes in his disheveled appearance. Jeongin’s practically drooling, his pupils blown so wide, his eyes appear solid black. Minho's hands return hesitantly towards his back, eyeing him carefully to gauge his reaction. Experimentally, Minho runs his fingers over the same spot again, sucking in a sharp breath when it makes Jeongin arch his spine with a broken moan, a full body shiver raking over his frame at the touch. Reeling at such a reaction, Minho does it again, surging forward to swallow the moan Jeongin lets out as he squirms in place pulling at Minho. A firm but gentle grip around his elbow stops Minho from continuing his assault on the sensitive spot he’s discovered. 

Jeongin pulls just far enough away to meet Minho's eyes, his breath coming in short pants, a pleading look directed at him, a light coat of sweat gathered along his hairline.

“Please..” Jeongin implores. “ I can't, it's – It's too much.” He ducks his head in embarrassment, pink tinting his cheeks. The cuteness almost makes Minho cum in his pants right then and there.

Minho’s not aware he’s said as much out loud, until Jeongin’s gaping up at him in surprise, his expression quickly transforming into a cheeky grin. Minho could combust on the spot, so hot is the embarrassment washing over him. Since when does his mouth have a life of its own, just willy-nilly spewing forth such things, with no permission given by his brain?!

“Shut up.” Minho grumbles, letting himself be pulled into another kiss, this one a lot less urgent; just a soft meeting of lips, Jeongin’s pulling into a smile against his own.

“I didn't say anything!”

“You didn't have to, you were thinking it loud enough!” Minho whines, unable to help it at this point. His usual composure is whimpering pitifully in defeat at Jeongin's feet.

“Oh, so you can read minds now, Minho-hyung?” Jeongin teases, nosing at Minhos neck. Jeongin pulls him in closer, right at the edge of the counter. Minho's breath stutters, and whatever response he’s about to make lodges itself in his throat when Jeongin continues, his voice dipping low, a gravely sigh spoken against Minho's Adams apple, equal parts heard and felt.

“What am I thinking of right now, hyung? Hmm? Can you tell?” Minho hardly dares to breathe in anticipation, feeling Jeongin’s teeth graze lightly against his throat. “What am I'm thinking about doing to you, right now?” He punctuates each word with a gentle kiss, traveling up Minho's neck, the last words breathed against the shell of his ear. Minho whimpers when Jeongin hums against his ear, taking the lobe between his lips, biting down lightly on it.

“Hmm? You want me to tell you?” He works the soft flesh with his teeth making Minho squirm. “Want me to use my words?”

“Oh my fucking God!” Minho tosses his head back with a shrill yelp, covering his face with his hands. He'd have given himself a concussion against the wall throwing his head back like that so suddenly, if not for Jeongin managing to reach out in time, cushioning the back of his skull before it meets concrete.

“Woah! You okay?” Jeongin gently pulls Minho away from the wall, cupping his face in his hands, his eyes roaming over his face, worry written all over his face.

“Youcantsaystufflikethat” Minho mumbles under his breath, his words slurring together in his rush to get them out.

“What was that?” Jeongin chuckles, his eyebrows drawing together in amused confusion.

“I said you can’t say stuff like that!” Minho shouts suddenly, finishing by thumping his fist against Jeongin’s chest in frustration. He lowers his head in embarrassment, trying to hide his blush. 

“Why not?” Jeongin laughs, ducking his head, trying to look Minho in the eye. Minho keeps squirming, thwarting his attempts, his hands falling to grab at Minho’s thighs.

“Because -”

“You like it, don’t you?” Jeongin interrupts him, his tone losing some of the playfulness.

“That’s besides the point!” Minho huffs, still refusing to meet his eye.

“Don’t you?” Something in Jeongin’s tone stops Minho in his tracks.

“I -”

“I won’t do it anymore if you really don’t like it.” Minho finally looks up at that, the vulnerable tone tugging at his heartstrings. Jeongin suddenly looks small and lost in front of him, his hands lightly shaking against Minho’s thighs. Minho feels a sudden pang of guilt. He lightly brushes his fingers over Jeongin’s knuckles, soothing the trembling. 

“I don’t-” his voice sounds strange even to his own ears. “I don’t don’t like it…”

“Then what is it?” Jeongin pleads, his eyes going big and imploring. Minho’s resolve is crumbling.

“Are you embarrassed?”

Minho averts his eyes, his face heating up. His tongue won’t form proper words, all he can do is grumble uselessly under his breath, nodding slightly. Jeongin’s hands grip gently at his thighs, his thumbs circling against the bend of his knees.

“Embarrassed that you do like it?” Jeongin purrs, and Minho can hear the self satisfied smirk in the timbre of his voice, the mood shifting back to something playful, flirty.

Minho nods his head again.

“Aren’t you proud of me hyung?” Minho makes the mistake of looking up, confused. Proud?  

Jeongin moves forward, rubbing the tip of his nose against Minho’s, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You’re the one who taught me the importance of using my words after all.” 

Minho groans in defeat while Jeongin cackles triumphantly. He pulls Jeongin in by the neck, squeezing his face, turning the laughter into a protesting whine. 

“You’re a menace!” Jeongin wiggles his way out of Minho’s grip, slightly out of breath from the brief struggle, smile still as wide as ever. “Did I teach you to be a menace too?”

“Who else would I have learned it from?” Jeongin sticks his tongue out, ducking as Minho swipes at his head in mock affront. 

Jeongin swoops in to capture Minho’s lips again, startling a soft moan out of him. The fond look he levels at Minho does weird things to his stomach, similar to the feeling of going suddenly downhill in a speeding car. 

Minho lets himself be pulled down and off the counter, back on his own two unsteady feet. Jeongin pulls Minho’s shirt down where it had somehow rucked up over his stomach earlier, smoothing it down, his hands lingering on Minho’s hips. He looks at Minho like he hung the moon, eyes bright, a shy smile on his lips. Minho feels an answering smile tugging at his own lips.

They both startle at the sound of the entry code being punched in, and Seungmin’s cheery voice announcing his return. Jeongin’s hold on Minho tightens when he makes to pull away and he stares at him with wide eyes, lips parting on a silent plea. Jeongin only smiles calmly back, before turning towards the entrance, shouting a greeting in return.

Seungmin slows his trot over to the kitchen as he takes in the scene before him, eyes darting between the mess on the counters, Jeongin’s shirtless state, and Minho’s weak struggle in Jeongin’s arms. His eyebrows fly up into his bangs, eyes widening comically.

“What did I miss?” he breathes hesitantly, a knowing smile quirking his lips.

Jeongin hums noncommittally, his lips forming an innocent pout that’s fooling no one. He casually grabs one of the intact pastries, holding it out to Seungmin.

“Cream puff?” 

Minho groans into his shoulder, slumping in his arms, giving up his futile attempt at escape. 

Chapter Text

“And then? What happened after Felix left?”

Minho stares down at the bokkeumbap on his plate, a blush creeping up his neck as he thinks of the events of last night. He pokes the yolk of the fried egg with his chopsticks, watching the yellow spill over the rice, willing his mouth to form words.

“Then…” Jisung watches him expectantly, smiling encouragingly as he bobs his head up and down for Minho to continue. 

It didn't take Jisung long to figure out something must have happened when they met up for a late lunch after their morning schedules. He took one look at Minho's face, and the minute they were sequestered in their usual spot, Jisung asked him to spill the beans. He's always been good at reading Minho's moods, even when no one else caught on to something being amiss. Leave it to the world's leading expert in Minhology to be able to interpret even the most minute changes in Minho's behavior.

Minho continues, barely looking up from the food as he recounts the previous nights events to Jisung. He notices how Jisung gets more and more excited on his behalf as the telling unfolds, totally abandoning his own food to turn properly in his seat to face Minho, giving him his undivided attention. He has the common sense to look sheepish and slightly guilty when it’s revealed Jeongin told Minho about Jisung’s loose lips, but it's quickly forgotten as Minho continues, getting to the part about Jeongin hearing him through the door. Jisung fully squeals and covers his face with his hands, kicking his feet under the table. Minho conveniently leaves out what Jeongin heard exactly; he’d never be able to live down the mortification, not even with Jisung. 

Minho’s face is burning, but he keeps going, knowing Jisung will find a way to weasel the full story out of him eventually anyways, he might as well just tell it right away, save them both some time. If he leaves out a few bits and pieces here and there, who’s gonna know?

Jisung jumps up and fully fist bumps the air when Minho tells him about the kiss, startling a laugh out of him.

“Yes! Fucking finally!” Jisung groans, his grin so wide he looks a little deranged. He keeps looking at Minho excitedly, motioning for him to continue, bouncing slightly in place.

Minho mumbles his way through the next part, glossing over some of the more embarrassing bits. Jisung’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glares at Minho while he sits back down. It’s a look that says I know you’re not telling me the whole story, and I will get it out of you at some point, but Jisung luckily doesn’t push him for the juicy details right now, letting him stutter his way through the rest; Minho is the shade of a sun-ripe tomato by the time he gets to Seungmin’s untimely return to the dorm. 

Jisung has gone quiet and his eyes are the size of dinner plates. Minho lets the silence stretch on for too long for Jisung’s liking it seems.

“And then?!” Jisung practically shrieks, startling Minho with the sudden outburst. Jisung looks like he’s dying to hear the rest, he has that same look on his face as when they watch dramas, and the episode ends on a cliffhanger; He is invested, and needs more right now!

“Then…” Minho’s voice tapers off. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, an uncharacteristically abashed gesture. 

“What did I miss?” Seungmin breathes hesitantly, a knowing smile quirking his lips.

Jeongin hums noncommittally, his lips forming an innocent pout that’s fooling no one. He 

casually grabs one of the intact pastries, holding it out to Seungmin.

“Cream puff?”

Minho groans into his shoulder, slumping in his arms, giving up his futile attempt at escape for the moment.

“Oh, not too much.” Jeongin smirks, popping the cream puff into his mouth when Seungmin shakes his head no at the offered treat. He licks his fingers free of crumbs, squeezing an increasingly reddening Minho, giving him the least subtle wink known to man as he does. “Me and Felix-hyung baked. Minho-hyung helped.”

“Was that before or after a tornado tore through the kitchen?” Seungmin plays along, ignoring Minho’s pleading looks. Minho hates him. He hates them both. 

Jeongin laughs while explaining his mishap with the piping bag, still obstinately refusing to release Minho from his embrace. He’s moved Minho in front of himself, wrapping his arms securely around his waist. He rests his chin over Minho’s shoulder, talking to Seungmin about the night and asking about his singing practice, like nothing’s out of the ordinary, like Minho isn’t dying on the inside in his arms.

“This one part keeps bugging me, I can’t seem to get the right intonation I want, any tips?” Seungmin asks.

Minho sees his chance, and takes it.

“Yes, Innie has many tips I’m sure!” They both stop to stare at Minho, the slightly shrill tone catching their attention. “Why don’t you guys go do that in Kim Seungmin’s room before bed, and I’ll clean up this mess.” Minho gestures widely at the room at large with one hand, trying to pry Jeongin’s arms apart with the other. “I am beat, so I’ll just hit the hay right after! And you should too, it’s getting late.” 

Minho manages to wiggle his way out of Jeongin's grip, and practically lunges for the mop to start cleaning before anyone can protest. 

Seungmin pads over to his own room, shaking his head as he goes. 

“Hyung…?” 

Minho doesn’t look up, all his focus on the swish of the mop. He bumps Jeongin’s feet with it to make him move.

“Go, go! Go help Seungmin with his singing, I’ve got this.” Minho puts on a fake cheerful tone, trying not to let on that there is a meltdown happening inside his brain.

Jeongin stares at him like he just grew three heads, refusing to move. Minho sweeps around him instead. 

“Are you..?” Jeongin’s eyebrows knit together in a mix of confusion and incredulity. A humorless laugh escapes him as he turns around to keep facing Minho. “Are you fucking serious?” 

Minho freezes in place, staring dumbly at Jeongin. They stare at each other for a minute before Jeongin just shakes his head with a disbelieving huff through his nose, before he spins around, and stalks after Seungmin.

“You’re unbelievable!” he yells over his shoulder.

Minho flinches at the slamming of Seungmin’s door.

Jisung stares at him in disbelief, mouth falling open, the food sliding off his chopsticks, too shocked to keep eating.

“You are such an idiot!” Jisung murmurs, shaking his head.

“Yah, that's no way to speak to your elders!” Minho stares, at a loss for words at Jisung’s audacity. He’s really been far too lenient with him. What happened to respecting your hyungs?

“It  is when my elders are being obtuse morons hellbent on ruining their own chances at a relationship with the guy they're dreaming about.” Jisung stares back in defiance, but Minho doesn’t miss the way he scoots his chair a little further away, just in case Minho decides to teach him a lesson in manners. 

“I told you about that in confidence! I can't believe you told him-”

“Oh please, give me some credit, I wouldn't tell him about your sex dreams - sorry, invasive memories - that you have no control over whatsoever.” Jisung makes air quotes, rolling his eyes, reciting the excuse Minho had used time and again. 

He yelps and tries to pull away when Minho’s hand shoots out to clamp around the back of his neck. Minho’s steely gaze makes Jisung cower and put on his best innocent look, trying to wriggle out of Minho’s grip.

“But you did tell him about what I told you over lunch. Also told in confidence.” Minho hisses, eyes glinting dangerously, pulling Jisung in closer by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving puppy. 

“It worked out in your favor didn't it?” Jisung whimpers, smiling apologetically with a tiny shrug. 

“That doesn't make it okay to spill my secrets Jisung-ah!” Minho sighs exasperatedly, finally letting him go. Jisung rubs at the back of his neck, but at least he looks guilty when he meets Minho’s eyes again.

“I know I know, and I'm sorry. Really, hyung I am.” His big round eyes are full of remorse. “But I was worried, and you looked miserable, I didn't know who else to turn to.” Jisung picks at a loose thread at the seam of his pants. “I didn't think all it would take for him to confront you about it would be that though.” Jisung side eyes him, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He seemed about as thick headed about being in denial concerning the whole situation as you were – you guys really are made for each other.” Jisung ducks in time to avoid the swipe Minho directs at the side of his head with a laugh. “He was so adamant about not believing you actually fancy him beyond that one swept away in the moment thing – his words not mine.” Minho gapes at that.

“He really is an idiot.” Minho shakes his head in incredulity, not quite believing Jeongin would be that obtuse about the whole situation.

“Takes one to know one- Ow!” Jisung isn’t quick enough to avoid the second blow. He rubs his head in mock pain. Minho didn’t hit him hard, his fingers barely grazed his hair, he’s just being dramatic for no reason. Minho chuckles and leans in to blow at his booboo, Jisung swats him away with a laugh before returning to his meal. They eat in silence for a while. Minho doesn’t really have much of an appetite anymore.

 He knows he messed up, knows he was being an idiot. 

He cleaned up and escaped to his own room as fast as he could last night, like a damn craven. By the time he’d finally manned up and crept out again, all the lights had been turned off, and he could hear no sounds from either Jeongin’s or Seungmin’s rooms. Yongbok hadn’t returned either, his shoes still gone, probably crashing over at Hyunjin’s. 

Minho almost knocked on Jeongin’s door, but the cowardice and anxiety got the better of him. He didn’t sleep much that night either, and in the morning Jeongin was already gone by the time he got up. He could kick himself for hurting Jeongin, it’s the last thing he wanted to do.

“What should I do?” Minho’s dejected sigh is loud in the quiet room. Jisung’s eyes fill with pity. He wraps an arm around Minho’s shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “ I think I really hurt his feelings, how do I fix this?” 

Minho lets Jisung rock him back and forth gently, waiting for some brilliant nugget of wisdom. Jisung has this way of knowing the perfect thing to say to help you figure out the best course of action on your own, gently set you on the right path, rather than giving you outright advice, and Minho desperately needs that guidance right now.

“Grow a pair.” Jisung flinches at Minho’s raised fist, laughing off the threatening gesture. “Seriously, hyung! Just…” His eyebrows wrinkle, he looks at Minho beseechingly, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “…talk to him. Sit down, and really talk. It’s the least you can do. I’ve never known you to be this anxious or pussyfooted about anything before. What gives?” The reassuring hand Jisung places on Minho’s shoulder feels heavy. 

“I’m scared Sung-ah…” he exhales shakily, the words barely louder than a whisper. Jisung’s face melts into one of deep sympathy. Minho groans, already regretting the candor when Jisung squeezes him into a tight hug again.

“Aww, Minho-hyung, it’s gonna be okay.” Jisung simpers, putting on the cute voice he knows puts Minho in a better mood almost instantly. Despite his best efforts, Minho cracks a small smile before he can school his features into a frown again, making Jisung let go with a triumphant smirk. 

“It’s gonna be okay though, really. I believe in you.” Jisung’s smile is full of reassurance, and Minho feels slightly better for having shared, knowing Jisung is absolutely right. He can’t keep being a spineless fool. Too much is at risk to keep being an idiot about it. He’ll be damned if he keeps hurting Jeongin, or keeps ruining the group dynamic any longer. He’s gonna talk to him. He makes a promise to himself; by the end of the day, they will have talked.

They’re packing up their bags getting ready to leave when something occurs to Minho.

“Wait so, does that mean he wasn't doing any of it on purpose to rile me up? I was imagining it all?” Minho can’t quite believe it had all been in his head, all caused by his own projection.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Jisung pokes his pointer fingers against each other, the picture of innocence, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “A certain someone may have encouraged him to try, just to see what happens...” Minho’s eyes widen and gleam in fury.

“You-!”

“No, no not me!” Jisung waves his hands in front of himself wildly, a panicked look on his face. “Good Lord no, I have more sense than all that! I value my life, thank you very much.” He breathes shakily, eyeing Minho warily.

“Kim Seungmin...” Minho seethes, tightening his hands into fists at his sides.

“I named no names, remember that in the re-telling.” Jisung holds up a single finger in front of Minho, pulling it back with a yelp when Minho snaps his teeth towards the offending digit.

“With friends like you two, who needs enemies?” Minho mutters.

“Yah! That was uncalled for!” Jisung yells, clearly displeased at being lumped in with Seungmin. “I’m innocent!” Minho raises an eyebrow, giving him a look that speaks volumes. “I had no part in that!” 

“In that, yeah.” Minho keeps giving him the stink eye while pulling his messenger bag over his head.

“Whatever, it worked out in your favor!” Jisung huffs, crossing his arms. He looks adorable when he gets all huffy with indignation, his cheeks puffing out. “Really, you should be thanking me!” Minho chuckles at Jisung’s childish antics. 

He’ll admit, if only to himself, that he is somewhat grateful to the devil-duo for this whole debacle. He knows deep down he would probably never have had the courage to confront his own feelings otherwise, let alone actually make any steps towards confessing them. Minho pokes at Jisung’s cheek before he hurries to the door, avoiding Jisung’s swatting hands. He makes a mental note to thank them somehow without being obvious about what he's doing - they’d never let him live it down if he actually showed it outright. He can’t be seen encouraging such behavior anyways, even if it works to his advantage. He has to set a good example, even if his dongsaengs don’t follow it.

It’s gotten late by the time Minho makes his way home for the day, the sun already dipping below the horizon. What with dance practice, last minute adlib recordings, and a lengthy appointment with the styling team, Minho hasn’t found the time to think, let alone execute his promise to himself to talk to Jeongin.

Minho runs a hand through his freshly cut hair, trying to come up with a clever way to broach the topic with Jeongin, while he waits for the elevator. The ride up to the dorm isn’t nearly long enough, and he hasn’t come up with a good way before he’s in front of the door. He quickly punches in the code and slips in, not risking anyone catching him loitering in the hall, spacing out. It wouldn’t do to get a reputation like that.

He toes his shoes off, setting them neatly in their spot, before he quietly makes his way down the hallway. Minho would usually announce his arrival to the dorm at large, just like they all have a habit of doing, but the multitude of voices filtering from the living room stop him from doing so, his curiosity peaked. Especially when he can make out both Jeongin’s and, to his surprise, Jisung’s voices.

Jisung hadn’t mentioned anything about visiting at lunch. Not that he has to check in with Minho, he silently chides himself, it’s just unusual enough to take note of. Even when Jisung isn't at their dorm to see Minho, he always shoots him a text that he is coming, and asking if Minho needs him to grab something on the way, the convenient store, conveniently situated between the dorm buildings.

The abnormal pattern of behavior from Jisung makes Minho even more intrigued to know what’s going on, so, quiet as can be, he makes his way over to the open doorway leading to the main room. He dares a peek around the corner, and sees Jisung, Jeongin and Seungmin sitting on the couch deep in discussion, a movie playing quietly on the TV in the background. It’s not loud enough to drown out their voices, but is probably the reason none of them heard the door beep when he entered.

Minho knows that from their current angle, sitting with their backs mostly towards him, they won’t be able to spot him lurking.

“I honestly thought we were over this!” Jeongin groans in frustration. He’s venting to the others, and by the sound of it, it’s not the first time. Minho feels a pang of guilt for not being there, not being a good hyung for Jeongin to rely on. He’s been neglecting his duties as the oldest member of the dorm, someone the others turn to for advice and a sympathetic ear.

“I thought he’d, you know, finally admit to his feelings.” Minho’s cheeks heat up in realization. Jeongin’s talking about him. He’s the reason he sounds so frustrated. The guilty pit in Minho’s gut grows deeper.

“It was going so well too, and then you had to show up! Great timing, hyung.” Jeongin’s tone is only half joking when he levels an accusatory look at Seungmin, the displeasure under lacing his words.

“Put a sock on the door handle next time then!” Seungmin retorts, sticking out his tongue. “How was I supposed to know you were about to get your creamy freak on?” Minho clamps his hand hard over his mouth to stifle the embarrassed squeak threatening to escape. Jeongin does let out a sound though, much to the amusement of the others. Jisung coos at him fondly, going to pat his head, while Jeongin bats his hand away with an embarrassed whine.

“Plus, you’re the one who slammed my door in his face so-”

“I did not slam it in his face!” Seungmin gives Jeongin an exasperated look. Jeongin continues: ”Plus, I was angry!” He groans again, cradling his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. “God, he makes me so frustrated sometimes, it’s driving me mad!”

Minho watches as Jisung puts a comforting hand on Jeongin’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, reminiscent of how he’d comforted Minho earlier in the day. Jisung hasn’t contributed much to the conversation since Minho came back, only a few words here and there, letting Jeongin and Seungmin do most of the talking.

Minho actually made him promise to keep what they spoke of just between them this time, and a part of Minho fears he’s already forgotten. But Jisung keeps his word it seems, only suggesting nonchalantly that they need to have a proper talk.

“He’s obviously taken with you. He’s just being dumb.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, and half turns back to the tv. “Hyung can be an idiot sometimes.”

Jisung chortles at that, probably remembering his own words to Minho earlier. Minho narrows his eyes at Jisung’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Seungmin quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at Jisung’s reaction.

“You’re absolutely r-right, Seungminnie.” Jisung gets out before laughing again. Minho clenches his fists at his sides. That little shit!

Jisung’s laughter is infectious, and soon all three of them are piled on top of one another, shaking with mirth.

Once they catch their breath, Jeongin’s tone turns somber again.

“He won’t even talk to me.” Jeongin sighs.

“To be fair you’re the one that ignored him this morning, and bailed out before heeven got up.” Seungmin, never one to shy away from telling it straight even if it might hurt your feelings, shoots a side-eyed look at Jeongin, before focusing on the TV-screen again.

“Oh, you mean like he’s been doing to me for over a week?” Jeongin’s voice rises in pitch, his irritation palpable. Minho squirms in place, starting to feel guiltier for listening in on a conversation clearly not meant for his ears. He feels physically unable to tear himself away, his nosiness winning out against his guilty conscience. He’s feeling bad about a great many things lately, what’s one more added to the mix?

“An eye for an eye, and the whole world goes blind.” Seungmin replies sagely.

“In the world of the blind, the one eyed man is king!” Jisung shoots in, making them giggle again.

“Can you guys please focus, this is serious!” Jeongin barks out in frustration.

Jeongin used to have a bit of a temper when they were younger, it never took much to get him riled up back then. It’s a little shocking for Minho to see him like this now, his old self resurfacing. By the way Seungmin and Jisung instantly stop making jokes, they too are surprised.

“Sorry Innie.” Jisung nods. The silence stretches on for several moments, the only sound coming from the TV.

“Why don’t you just ask him to talk then?" Jisung shrugs, visibly holding back on saying more. “If one of you just grew a pair, this could all be resolve-”

“Why should I always be the one to talk?” Jeongin interrupts him with an angry huff. “I’m the youngest one, like, Jesus, is it too much to expect my hyungs to be more mature than me?”

“Look Minho-hung is-” whatever Minho-hyung is, gets interrupted.

“Oh, hey Minho-hyung, when did you get back?” Minho twirls around so fast he nearly loses his balance, and three heads spin around nailing him to the spot with shocked looks. Yongbok looks at Minho innocently, a towel slung over his shoulder, clearly on his way to the bathroom, not expecting a lurking hyung outside his door.

“Ah! Yongbok-ah! I didn’t- I just got back actually.” Minho’s voice comes out squeaky and high pitched, and he can feel his face heating up, the tips of his ears burning. Yongbok cocks his head to the side, looking him up and down, his eyebrows drawing together in worry.

“Hyung, are you feeli-”

“B-But I just remembered I forgot to get some uh… carrots? Yes, carrots! At the store, and so I’m gonna head on out to the store! To get carrots.” Minho’s panicked ramblings increase in pitch as he slowly retraces his steps and bolts out the door.

He jabs at the elevator button, willing it to arrive faster. He worms his way inside before the doors are fully open, mashing the door-close button in desperation. His relief at the closing doors is short lived as an arm shoots in at the last minute, making them slowly slide open again. Jeongin eyes him nervously, slightly out of breath. He almost trips on his untied shoelaces as he steps into the confined space.

The ride down is silent and awkward, neither of them daring to break it. As soon as the doors open again, Minho speeds towards the entrance. Jeongin follows after at a more leisurely pace, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

The fresh air feels good against Minho's flushed skin, and he halts for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. It’s gotten quite late now, and no one else is around. He feels more than sees Jeongin step up behind him, and it spurs him into action, quickly striding in the direction of the convenience store.

“Hyung.” Minho stops in his tracks, back still turned towards Jeongin. “Hyung, what you heard-” Jeongins voice sounds closer, and Minho visibly panics, turning hurriedly, his voice sounding even more shrill than before.

“I didn’t hear anything!” Minho flails his arms, feeling like a fish on land. Jeongin just stares at him, that look of disbelief returning. Minho hears himself ramble on, unable to stop.

“I just came back like I told-”

“Minho!” Minho’s mouth closes with a sharp clack of teeth, the remaining words swallowed. Minho. Not hyung, not Minho-hyung, just Minho. Minho’s breath is coming in short panicked pants, why does it feel like he’s a kid again being scolded? The silence stretches on. Jeongin seems to be waiting on him to say something, but he’s drawing a blank, all Minho can do is watch Jeongin’s frustration grow more evident in the furrow of his brow, in the downturn of his mouth, in the way his shoulders sag.

“Look, if you want to go back to how things were before, I can…” An almost pained expression washes over Jeongins face. He grits out the words, almost like it’s a personal battle to voice them.

“I’ll try." Jeongin stares at his feet, seemingly unable to keep Minho’s gaze. “I don’t think I can do it, but..” The words are whispered so low, Minho barely catches them. He wonders if they were even meant for him, or if Jeongin was talking more to himself, and he feels a sharp pang of something in his chest. Jeongin shifts his weight from one foot to the other, shoulders turned in, the oversized t-shirt makes him look small.

“I’ll try if that’s what you want, just please talk to me, tell me-” he finally grits out louder for Minho to hear, his voice breaking at the end. Minho’s immediate instinct is to soothe the hurt he’s caused.

“I’m sorry Iyen-ah, I didn’t mean-” Minho begins, taking a tentative step towards Jeongin. Jeongin interrupts him with a wave of his hand and a step back.

“It’s fine, hyung. It is what it is.” Jeongin’s voice wavers, his breath speeding up. Minho looks at him in confusion. He’s so tired these days, his brain is lagging again.

“I’ll do my best to give you space, or whatever you need. I’m sorry too.” Jeongins voice tapers off to just a whisper at the end. His chest is visibly heaving with shaky breaths, and it’s only when Jeongin looks up at the sky suddenly, blinking rapidly, that it dawns on Minho what’s just happened. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so desperate to set this right.

“Wait, no! No, no, no.” Minho steps forward, shaking his head.

“Hyung what-”

“Shut up for a second, stop interrupting me damn it!” Minho doesn't mean to yell, but he needs Jeongin to stop talking and just listen! Jisung really is right; they’re both idiots.

Jeongin stares at him wide-eyed, his mouth still slightly open, but he doesn’t say another word, a myriad of emotions playing out on his face as he waits for Minho to continue.

Minho takes a deep steadying breath, meeting Jeongin’s unreadable gaze head on.

“You’re misunderstanding me.” He breathes. Jeongin cocks his head to the side, but remains quiet. “I was going to say, I’m sorry for hurting you, I didn't mean to do that, not… not…” Minho stutters, unsure of how to get his point across. He pleads with his eyes, begging for Jeongin to understand, and not make him come out and say it. Pulling teeth would be easier. Jeongin blinks in confusion, and maybe hope?

“So you mean…?  What do you mean?” he chuckles nervously, running his fingers through his hair, a crooked smile doing funny things to Minho’s insides.

“I don’t want to go back to how it was!” Minho’s aware that he’s yelling again. He takes another fortifying breath. “I can’t go back… not anymore.” His voice is much quieter, soft and vulnerable. The vulnerability shines through as they stare at each other.

“Well?” Minho’s ears feel like they’re on fire. Jeongin opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no sounds come out.

“What happened to using your words?” Minho teases with a breathy laugh, and that seems to finally break Jeongin out of his frozen state.

“Minho-hyung!” He ducks his head in embarrassment, cheeks coloring. Minho can’t help but find it adorable, and he reaches out to muss Jeongin’s hair playfully. Jeongin swats his hand away with a laugh, the tension dispersing into the night air, and it feels normal, and like them again. Minho breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

“Oh so you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” He pokes at Jeongin’s sides, making him squirm. Something shifts in Jeongin’s gaze, and before Minho can blink, Jeongin takes a determined step forward right into Minho’s personal bubble, his eyes practically glowing in the streetlight.

“Oh, I can take it…” Jeongin leans in, their noses almost touching, his words ghosting over Minho’s face. Minho’s eyes flutter, he feels a little cross-eyed trying to look at Jeongin's face so up close.

“Iyen-ah.” Minho breathes.

A gust of wind howls through the alleyway, making Jeongin shiver violently. He rubs his hands up and down his arms and Minho realizes belatedly that Jeongin didn’t bring a jacket. Minho had never taken his own off, too busy lurking. Despite it being summer, the nights have been unseasonably chilly lately.

Minho reaches out to rub at Jeongin’s arm.

“Let’s go back inside, I don’t want you to get a cold.” He spins on his heel, striding back towards the entrance.

“Oh, I thought you were in desperate need of carrots?” Jeongin jogs to catch up, teasingly pulling at Minho’s arm, gesturing down the street. Minho punches him in the arm, rather harder than he meant to.

“Shut up.” he grumbles. Jeongin just grins back, shyly running his fingers down Minho’s arm, interlacing their fingers as they enter the building again.

They haven’t been gone all that long, but by the time they return, a different movie is playing on the tv, and the lights have been dimmed. Seungmin waves at them as they pass, but otherwise doesn’t make a comment. Minho sees Jisung lying sprawled out on the same couch, his head resting on Seungmin’s lap. He looks to be fast asleep. Seungmin is running his fingers through his hair, a fond look on his face whenever he peers down at his bandmate, one Minho can’t remember having noticed before. Jeongin seems utterly unfazed by their affectionate display, and it makes Minho wonder if he knows something he himself doesn’t. He makes a mental note to grill Jisung about it at the earliest possible opportunity - fair is only fair after all.

They hear muffled clicking of a keyboard and mouse as they pass Yongbok’s room, Jeongin following Minho to his door where they pause.

“I’ve been-” Minho clears his suddenly dry throat, and tries again. “I’ve been thinking about-”

“Me?” Jeongin smirks cheekily, winking at Minho, his grin widening. It really is unfair what power that smile has over Minho.

“I wanna go to bed.” Minho blurts out, making a small step back to lean on his door. Jeongins grin falters ever so slightly.

“I’m not running away, just so we’re clear on that.” Minho hurries to clarify. Jeongin’s smile is one of relief, his eyes creasing into half moons.

“Okay?” Jeongin holds his gaze, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t want to run away anymore… I’m just actually really tired, it’s been a long day.” Minho huffs through his nose, returning Jeongin’s smile. “But..” Minho breaks eye contact, suddenly finding his socks very fascinating.

“But?” Jeongin encourages, ducking into Minho's field of vision, making him look up again.

“Can we please talk tomorrow?” Jeongin’s smile widens and he nods enthusiastically.

His eyes roam all over Minho’s face, lingering on his lips. Minho's own eyes drift to Jeongin’s lips, and before either have made a conscious decision to do so, the space between them starts shrinking as they inch towards each other. Jeongin’s hands find Minho’s waist. Minho’s hands run up to rest on Jeongin’s chest, their eyes glued to one another’s mouths.

“Tomorrow… then…” Minho breathes before he closes the final centimeters of distance. He exhales sharply through his nose at finally being able to feel Jeongin’s lips on his. Despite it not even being a full 24/hours since last time, he realizes how much he’s been missing them already, and just how dangerous they are. He pulls back, only having meant for it to be a quick kiss goodnight, but Jeongin surges forward sucking Minho’s upper lip greedily between his own, swallowing any noises Minho makes in response, his hands pulling them even closer, making Minho groan. Minho snakes his arms up over Jeongin’s shoulders, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

A loud wolf whistle from the living room makes them break apart. Jisung, hair half disheveled from sleep peers over the back of the couch at them, grinning insolently, the little brat. Seungmin yanks him in by the neck of his shirt, making Jisung choke slightly, pulling him out of sight. Minho shakes his head with a quiet laugh, looking at Jeongin again who’s also chuckling low under his breath. Jeongin’s eyes glitter in the low light, and his lips look red and glistening and oh so inviting… and.. Minho shakes his head to stop his thoughts from spiraling. He wasn’t lying when he said he was tired. Exhausted more like. He fights to suppress a yawn. Jeongin’s expression softens, he strokes his thumb over Minho’s cheek, and Minho automatically leans into the touch with a content sigh.

“Night, hyung.” Jeongin whispers as his lips graze Minho’s cheek before he turns away and walks off to his own room.

“Good night Iyen-ah.” Minho calls quietly after him, backing into his own room, only fumbling with the doorknob once or twice as his eyes linger on Jeongin's retreating form.

Minho wakes up with a start, the dream slowly fading in detailed intensity, but the sensations remain, making his body buzz, and his boxers feel a little too tight. He groans as he rolls over, squinting at the window, the light peeking through the edges seems too bright. What time is it? He fumbles for his phone.

With a yell he bolts out of bed - he managed to sleep through his alarm for the first time in ages. Grabbing a t-shirt, he stumbles out of the room, pulling it on as he shoulders his way into the bathroom blindly, his bladder screaming for release. Only when he’s managed to wrestle his head through the right opening (the sleeve not being made to fit his head) does he realize his blunder; The bathroom is already occupied.

The steam billowing out from the shower stall does little to obscure Jeongin’s broad back from view, water cascading down milky skin, soap suds making glistening rivulets from his neck as he washes his hair. They travel over his shoulder blades, down his spine, dipping down into - Minho makes a strangled noise, his eyes shooting up to meet Jeongins surprised ones, his previously waning erection filling out again.

“The door wasn’t locked..” Minho offers sheepishly, thumbing behind him.

It’s not like it’s the first time he’s seen one of the members showering. House policy dictates that the common areas are free use unless a door is locked; they often don’t have the time or luxury to wait for one person to hog the bathroom. But this feels different now, all Minho can do is dumbly watch more white suds cascade over Jeongin’s torso. It triggers a memory from the dream, white cream against pale skin, him on his knees looking up, a veiny hand tugging him forward by the hair …Minho spins around in embarrassment, feeling the blood rushing south.

Jeongin hasn’t said anything, nor has he made any indication that he feels uncomfortable by the situation. Minho waddles over to the toilet, his bladder reminding him of the urgency. It’s no easy feat to relieve yourself while sporting a semi, but Minho somehow manages without making a mess, his legs straining at the awkward angle.

He adamantly keeps his eyes fixed down at his hands while washing them, but he can’t help but steal a peak in the reflection when he hears the water turn off behind him.

“Hyung, can you hand me a towel?” Minho blushes as their eyes meet in the mirror. Jeongin’s dimpled smile is infectious and disarming. Minho’s heart skips a beat whenever it’s directed at him these days.

“Hyung?” Jeongin’s hand is still out, waiting for Minho to get a move on. Minho hurries to give him a towel, it’s way too early in the morning to be this flustered he thinks, turning around to give Jeongin a semblance of privacy as he steps out. Jeongin quickly wipes and gets dressed as Minho brushes his teeth and washes his face. They stand side by side in comfortable silence while Jeongin puts on moisturizer. They exit the room together, soft smiles on both their faces.

Right outside the door they nearly bump into Seungmin. His eyes widen minutely in surprise, gliding from one to the other, a suggestive smile spreading across his face. Minho panics, sputtering excuses to Seungmin’s retreating back, who only chuckles and shakes his head on his way to the kitchen. Minho catches Jeongin’s amused frown and sputters harder.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t denying - I don’t mean-” Jeongin takes pity on him, pulling him in for a tight hug, stroking his hair in a soothing gesture. Minho stiffens in the embrace, acutely aware that he’s only clad in a t-shirt and boxers. The smell of Jeongin’s shampoo makes him feel almost lightheaded, and he pushes away from Jeongin with a nervous smile before the smell and proximity can cause an embarrassing reaction. Jeongin ruffles his hair before he makes his way after Seungmin to the kitchen.

Minho stands there alone for a few minutes, breathing deeply, gathering his thoughts, willing them away from dreams and showers, before he stalks after the others.

Jisung snickers when he sees Minho, exchanging bemused glances with Seungmin. He must have slept over, Minho reasons, he’s never over this early otherwise. Judging by the looks Jisung keeps throwing their way, Minho figures Seungmin told him about seeing them exit the bathroom together. Jisung perches on the edge of the counter, dangling his legs, waiting for Seungmin to finish heating up last nights leftovers.

“Having a good morning so far, hyung?” Jisung asks, a shit eating grin lighting up his face. Mino takes a seat at the kitchen table and groans, hiding his head in the fold of his arms. Jisung practically cackles.

Minho feels a gentle hand on the top of his head. He peers up. Jeongin strokes his hair with a fond expression, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He’s an angel. Minho could kiss him. He blushes at the thought, grabbing the mug with both hands. He inhales deeply, before blowing on it and taking a tentative sip. He almost moans; it’s made just the way he likes it. He looks up, mouthing thank you at Jeongin, who’s leaning against the counter, cradling a cup of his own.

“And where’s my coffee?” Jisung jumps down from the counter, huffing with his hands on his hips, looking offended at the preferential treatment. “Is this how you treat a guest in your own home?”

“You’re not my guest!” Jeongin fixes him with a bemused smile. “Get your own boyfriend to make you coffee.” Jisung’s mouth falls open. Seungmin pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth, exchanging an apprehensive look with Jisung. Minho chokes on his coffee, rough coughs raking his frame. Jeongin, suddenly realizing what he just said, goes pale, looking from Minho to the other two.

“I- I mean-” he sets the coffee cup down with shaking hands, looking imploringly at Jisung and then Seungmin, motioning with his eyes for help.

“What’s that Felix?” Jisung suddenly calls out, inching towards the doorway. “You need a hand?” He grabs at Seungmin’s elbow, motioning for him to follow. Minho has caught his breath, and watches in slight amusement as Jeongin’s panic intensifies, and Jisung and Seungmin make their way out the door. “Coming~!” Jisung yells down the hall unnecessarily, and then it’s just Minho and Jeongin, alone in the room, only the awkward silence to keep them company. Cue the crows.

“Boyfriend?” Minho breaks the silence after a while.

“I didn’t mean it like that, hyung! It just came out, like it came out wrong!” Jeongin can’t seem to meet Minho’s eyes for long, his cheeks a bright pink, the blush traveling up to his ears. “I was just teasing Jisung-”

“So you don’t wanna be my boyfriend?” Minho’s blushing too. He’s not sure where he gets the courage from, but he feels emboldened by seeing Jeongin so flustered, the role reversal making him brave. As confident as Jeongin may seem with the physical stuff, he’s no better than Minho when it comes to feelings, and Minho feels a little reassured by that.

“No, what? I mean, yes, I- huh?!” Jeongin balks and his panicked rambling makes him look cute. Minho can’t help but smile at that. Jeongin takes a step towards Minho. His eyes are big and his voice shakes slightly when he asks: “Do you wanna be my b-boyf-?”

“I mean you said it first, if you wanna take it back n-” Minho’s smile falters, and he looks away nervously, running a finger along the cup in his hands.

“No, I don’t wanna take it back! Unless you want me to take it bac-”

“Only if that’s what you-”

“Oh my God, just fuck already!” Jisung’s shout from the hallway interrupts them both. The words are followed by a loud smack and a yelp of pain, then retreating footsteps. Minho can’t help but smile despite the blush, and Jeongin’s quiet laugh breaks the awkward tension in the room. Minho looks up as Jeongin walks over to him. Grabbing the coffee cup out of his hands where he’s been clutching it like a lifeline and setting it down on the table, Jeongin brings his hands up to cup Minho’s cheeks. Minho inhales sharply at the warm contact, blinking up at Jeongin as he leans in closer.

“I want to.” Jeongin’s words are quiet, but his tone is firm. Minho feels himself inching forwards. He brings his own hands to rest on top of Jeongin’s squeezing lightly.

“I want to too.” He admits, biting his lower lip nervously. Jeongin pries it out from between his teeth with his thumb, his eyes zeroing in on the glistening flesh. Minho’s eyes flutter shut as he shifts forward, and he sighs contently when he feels Jeongin’s warm lips press against his own, opening his mouth to let him lick into it with a quiet moan.

Chapter Text

“But, you’re not doing anything either though.” Jisung points out, filling the pot with water before placing it on the stove.

”Who’s side are you on?” Minho glares at him, while chopping up scallions for the ramen.

They’re at Jisung’s dorm, enjoying a day off after a couple of hectic weeks of back to back schedules. The dorm is empty save for the two of them, the other members off spending the free day in whatever way they see fit. Jisung wanted to spend it catching up on dramas, per his usual day-off-routine, and Minho had wanted to eat in for once, so they opted to spend it together.

“I’m on the side that’s getting their dick we-Ow!” Jisung rubs at the tender spot, trying in vain to hide a smile. Minho lowers the plastic bowl he’d used as a weapon, and scoops the chopped scallions into it. “So violent, hyung!” 

Minho can’t help his own smile, it’s infectious really.

This is them, this is why Minho chooses to confide in Jisung, knowing the conversation will never get too serious, even when he’s tackling a difficult subject. Jisung will always find a way to keep the mood light, and despite teasing Minho with barely any incentive, he’d never actually make fun of him.

”You can be such a dick.” Minho says, his tone not matching his words, the sting all the more diminished by the widening smile.

”You love that about me though.” Jisung flutters his lashes at him while opening a pack of ramen. He plops the noodles into the now boiling water, before opening the next pack.

“In all seriousness though, what do I do?” Minho stares fixedly at the slowly churning bubbles covering the noodles. He’s glad to have a solitary moment with Jisung; he’s been dying to vent his frustrations to someone who knows what’s going on and, unlike Seungmin, won’t use the opportunity to tease him to death about it.

”I thought you just said you hadn’t been doing anything?” Jisung leans his elbows on the countertop and rests his chin in his hands, fixing Minho with a penetrative stare. Minho feels his cheeks warm.

Despite being the one to broach the subject, he still feels a little embarrassed talking about this, even with Jisung.

Things have been nice lately. Sure, he still feels those damn butterflies churning in his gut whenever he’s close to Jeongin, but it isn’t terrible anymore, knowing, hoping , that Jeongin is feeling the same pesky flutterings. And by all accounts, he is. 

Nothing major has really changed between them after that morning in the kitchen; They’d agreed to just take it slow. And it had been slow. Slow, but steady, a gradual progress of more; more casual touches, more not so casual touches. More hugs, more stolen glances and exchanged looks, more kisses whenever they could steal them, kisses that turned into heavy breathing and roaming hands whenever they had a moment to themselves.

Jeongin had developed an uncanny ability to know when Minho walked by his room on his way to his own, and had made a habit of grabbing him in passing, pulling him in for a quick make-out session. Not that Minho’s complaining. If he walks slower down the hall past the door when he knows Jeongin’s home, that’s nobody's business but his own. Jeongin has also been making it a point to stand behind Minho every opportunity he gets, just to run his hands along his waist or back, where no one can see, making it hard for Minho to keep calm, and then act all innocent about it after. Jeongin initiating things has just sort of become the norm for them.

”I hadn’t really had to do anything, you know,” Minho mumbles shyly, averting his gaze. Jisung just blinks up at him, not seeming to get it. “Like, he’d take the lead.” Minho meets Jisung’s eyes head on, giving him a pointed look, hoping he won’t have to spell it out any further. Jisung’s face morphs into a lascivious grin.

”And?” Jisung grins wider, looking Minho up and down salaciously, making him groan in exasperation and roll his eyes. He’s beginning to think maybe Seungmin would have been the better option after all.

”And… nothing.” Minho huffs out in frustration, running a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull on it. “Something would always get in the way, you know? The schedule has been insane lately, comeback approaching and all. And I mean, it is what it is, but then now, when we suddenly do have some time off before it all breaks loose, now he’s pulling back?” Jisung remains quiet while Minho unloads, and Minho loves him for it. He’ll attentively listen, but rarely interrupt, preferring to have all the facts on the table before commenting or coming up with any advice.

Sure, things had been steadily moving into uncharted territory, but despite Minho’s nervousness about it, he’d been excited to experience it with Jeongin. But then, seemingly out of the blue, Jeongin had started to pull back. At first Minho had tried to convince himself it was all in his head. But when he’d walked by Jeongin’s open door just the other day, and Jeongin had just smiled at him in passing from his bed, making no move to get up, Minho’s heart sank.

”I can’t for the life of me figure it out… Did I do something wrong?” Minho’s face falls as he picks at the sauce packets for the ramen in lieu of picking at his nails, a nervous habit he’s long since kicked, but the urge will sometimes still resurface.

”Does he suddenly not like me anymore?” Minho’s voice is small and vulnerable, barely above a whisper.

”You shut your mouth with that crazy talk!” Jisung smacks the sauce packet out of Minho’s hands with a yell, grabbing his fingers firmly and looking him square in the eye. “Of course he likes you!” Jisung frowns, squeezing Minho’s hands reassuringly. He seems so sure, words brimming with conviction. Minho’s eyebrows draw together and up in a worried frown. 

”How can you be so sure?” Minho stares at their clasped hands, unable to keep eye contact.

”You’re all he talks about lately!” Jisung pats Minho’s hand gently before letting them go. “It’s actually a little disgusting.” He jokes, winking at Minho, trying to get him to smile. Hearing that Jeongin talks about him should make Minho feel happy, and it does. But it also makes him even more confused.

”Then what is going on?” This time Minho does pull at his hair. He takes a few steps away from the counter before pivoting around.

”One minute it’s all stolen kisses and touches whenever there’s a moment alone-” Minho’s voice rises in volume, his hands flying wildly as he gestures at Jisung. “-And the next he’s afraid to touch me like I’ll break or something, like I’m made of porcelain! He’s been like this all week!” Minho practically yells the last part, expecting Jisung to smile his usual pitying smile, and come up with some clever way to comfort him.

But Jisung is suddenly having a hard time looking him in the eye, his eyes widening as they shift from side to side, his fingers nervously fidgeting.

”What?” Minho asks quietly, eying his bandmate with growing suspicion.

”What what?” Jisung squeaks, still not meeting Minho’s eyes.

”Jisung?” Minho has a sudden sinking feeling.

”Oh look, I think the noodles are ready.” Jisung spins around, his back facing Minho as he busies himself with the pot on the stove.

”Jisung.” Minho’s voice drops in pitch, taking on a dangerous timber. Jisung squirms in place as if he can feel Minho’s sharp eyes boring into his back.

“Can you grab the eggs?” Jisung’s voice is more high pitched than usual, and there’s a telltale quiver to it that Minho knows all too well.

”Jisung, what did you do?” Minho practically growls.

”I’m sure I don’t know what you mean?” Jisung tries, but his voice breaks on the last word, making him sound like a boy just entering puberty.

“Jisung!” Minho warns, growing tired of the evasiveness.

”Minho-hyung!” Jisung tries one last time, the sing-song faltering as Minho steps up behind him and spins him around to face him with a firm grip on his shoulder. Jisung takes a tentative step back, creating some space between them, eying Minho’s closed off posture wearily. Minho’s jaw clenches, and he crosses his arms, preparing for whatever misconduct Jisung has gotten up to now. Jisung clears his throat shakily before he continues.

”I may have let it slip that-”

”Slip?” Minho blinks rapidly, his mouth forming a thin angry line. Jisung inches a few more steps back, making to place the kitchen table between them.

”I may have told him-”

”Told him ?” Minho’s voice quakes, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “Told Jeongin?!” The barely contained shriek makes Jisung flinch. “What the fuck did you tell him now?!” Minho’s voice is loud and shrill, his eyes bulging in anger. His mind is racing with possible secrets Jisung might have spilled.

”Now, Minho-hyung-”

”Don’t Minho-hyung me you little- What did you tell him?” Minho rages, taking a menacing step forward. Jisung yelps and jumps backwards, instinctively grabbing at the pot lid, holding it out in front of him like a makeshift shield.

”Imayhavetoldhimyou’veneverbottomedbefore!” Jisung grabs a chopstick, brandishing it like a sword. Minho would laugh under normal circumstances, but there’s nothing funny about what Jisung just admitted to.

Out of all the members, only Jisung and Felix know Minho has never bottomed before. It’s not that he’s an exclusive top or anything, or that the idea of bottoming turns him off. Quite the opposite actually; the contents of his nightstand drawer can attest to that. He’s just never felt secure enough with any of his previous partners to want to explore that side of things. Toping had just been easier, and somewhat expected, at least that’s what it felt like to him. But with Jeongin… Minho had never felt more secure, and had decided pretty early on, once he’d come to terms with his own feelings of course, that if things ever escalated that way with Jeongin, and he was so inclined, that he’d gladly bottom.

“You did what?!” Minho practically screams, his eyes widening, taking another threatening step in Jisung’s direction. Jisung lunges backwards, placing the table between them, still brandishing his make-shift arms, as if they’d be any real protection if Minho actually came for him. Minho eyes him sharply, like a predator eyeing a prey.

”Remember, I’m your best friend.” Jisung jokes, the nervous laugh sounding a little mad.

”And you will be sorely missed. I’ll even have Seungmin sing at your funeral.” Minho hisses, taking a slow step to the side, making Jisung jump in the opposite direction to keep the table right in-between them.

”Hyungie.” Jisung pleads as Minho takes another sidling step to the side, making Jisung slink to the side once more.

“Jisungie…” The suddenly calm and syrupy-sweet tone of voice contrasts wildly with Minho’s blazing dark gaze. It makes Jisung gulp loudly.

”I didn’t mean to-”

”You don’t mean to do a great many things lately, and yet here we are.” Minho’s tone of voice remains scarily calm, and he sees Jisung shiver. A part of him is pleased he hasn’t fully lost his touch like he’d feared, being so thoroughly tested by the younger members over the past few weeks. He’d probably enjoy it more if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s barely holding back from exploding.

”I’m sorry-”

”I’m beginning to think you don’t understand the meaning of that word.” Minho eyes the table separating them, quietly calculating whether he’d be able to jump the obstacle before Jisung can bolt out the door.

”Jeongin has a way of weaseling things out of me-”

”Oh, so you’re blaming him now for spilling my secrets?” Minho’s exasperated laugh makes Jisung’s shoulders visibly slump with guilt.

”Well, technically, you never told me not to say it to anyone-” Jisung makes a last attempt at deflating the situation with a joke, but all it does is make Minho more annoyed.

”You’re such a T sometimes” Minho huffs out an angry breath as he shakes his head, crossing his arms again with a weary sigh.

”Hey! That’s not nice to say!” Jisung’s pout would normally make Minho falter and feel guilty, and while it does, he can’t afford to let it show.

”Neither is blabbing to Innie every chance you get!” Jisung looks like a kicked puppy. Minho keeps going before he can feel too bad. “How the fuck did you even let something like that slip?”

”Well, we were talking, and he was asking for advice.” Jisung inches closer, running his hands over the back of one of the chairs, sensing Minho’s murderous rage evaporating.

”Advice? Advice about what?” Minho looks at Jisung as he tentatively pulls out a chair and sits down, looking up at him with big eyes.

”You.” Jisung says with a fond smile. “What you like, what you don’t like? He was talking about how he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right since you never seem to initiate, and he was feeling pretty insecure about that.” Jisung tilts his head with a crooked smile.

”Why would he be insecure?” Minho frowns, pulling up a chair of his own and joining Jisung at the table.

”Really? Wouldn’t you be in his place? The guy you like isn’t showing he likes you-”

”I am too showing it!” Minho jolts up straight in his seat, an affronted look on his face.

Jeongin doubts that he likes him? How is that even possible? Minho feels like he practically vibrates whenever they’re close, so much so, he’s surprised no one else has caught on.

”How?” Jisung’s knowing smirk makes Minho bristle even more, and his voice comes out more shaky than he would have liked when he replies.

”I- I k-kiss him back, and like, we hold hands and-”

”And he always initiates it, right?” Jisung quirks a knowing eyebrow at him before standing up, deeming it safe enough to move back to the stove. Minho is at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth, while his face grows steadily redder and redder.

”So he was feeling insecure about you maybe just going along with it to be nice-”

”What the fuck?! I would never do something like that!” Minho spins around in his seat so fast, it almost makes the chair topple backwards. He regains his balance and levels Jisung with an accusatory glare for even suggesting such a thing.

”I know, I know, and that’s what I told him!” Jisung holds his hands up to reassure Minho before going back to draining the water from the now slightly soggy noodles. “But that’s when I kinda maybe let it slip that it’s probably due to your insecurity with never having bottomed before.” Jisung casually tosses over his shoulder, visibly tensing up for Minho’s response.

”I’m never telling you anything ever again!” Minho yells, anger rising again. He’d momentarily been distracted by the thought of Jeongin feeling undesired.

”You should have seen the look on his face thou-”

”Jisung!” Minho’s glare does little to silence the beginnings of Jisung’s laugh, it steadily bubbles up as he tries to keep it in check.

”I’m sorry, but it was priceless! I want it on a t-shirt!” Jisung covers his mouth but there’s already tears of laughter clinging to his lashes, his face growing flushed from the held in mirth.

”You’re spending way too much time with Seungmin lately, he’s starting to have a bad influence on you.” Minho’s eyes narrow, but the glare has lost some of the potency, the fight leaving him, and he gets up from the chair.

”I resent that!” Jisung huffs indignantly, puffing out his chest. “I’m fully capable of having a bad influence on myself, thank you very much!” Minho smacks him in the stomach on his way to the fridge, making him double over with a sharp exhale. Minho chuckles under his breath as he retrieves the eggs.

They work in silence to finish the meal, and they’re almost finished eating before Jisung breaks the silence.

”So what are you gonna do?” Jisung looks over the top of his bowl as he slurps up the last of the broth. Minho stares into nothing for a second, before he shrugs, not really knowing what the next step should be. He takes a mouthful of ramen to buy himself some time before answering, trying to find the right words for how he’s feeling after that revelation.

”You could top?” Jisung proposes. Minho chokes, the savory broth feeling like liquid fire as it comes out of his nose. Jisung jumps over to pat his back as Minho coughs and sputters, trying to get air into his lungs to replace the soup. He glares daggers at Jisung who keeps apologizing and patting his back, a guilty grin on his face.

”Jisung!” Minho finally chokes out, his voice sounding wrecked and wheezy.

”What, it’s an option?” Jisung shrugs, getting back to his own seat. Minho gets up without a word, walking over to the sink with the bowls. Jisung looks at him expectantly all the while, until Minho, still in silence, returns to his seat. Jisung gives him an encouraging go on look. Minho just stares at him without expression.

”Are you really not gonna talk to me now? Come on, I promise, no I swear I won’t tell a soul about what we talk about here!” Jisung pleads, his tone bordering on whiny. Minho is much too weak to resist those boba eyes, and Jisung knows it. Try as he might, it won’t take long before he’s confiding in him again. And at least this time, he did swear not to say anything…

”I don’t know if I want to top with him..” Minho mumbles under his breath, so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. He looks down at his lap when he says it, a blush warming his face.

”Awww, Minho-hyu- Owe, what now?” Jisung yelps as Minho lunges across the table, clipping him upside the head with his hand. Jisung scoots back out of attack range, rubbing at his ear.

”Stop making fun of me, this is a big deal!” Minho practically whines, the uncharacteristic tone annoying him, but he can’t help it.

”I know and, I’m sorry, you just look too cute not to tease.” Jisung motions as if to pinch Minho’s cheeks, his eyes forming half moons as his smile widens.

”Brat.” Minho lets out a laugh through his nose.

”Only the brattiest for you, hyung- Oh excuse me.” They’re interrupted as Jisung’s phone starts ringing, a remix of a One Piece soundtrack filling the room. Jisung does a little dance to the beat before swiping to answer.

”Speak to me!” He jumps up from the chair, starting to pace the length of the kitchen. ”Uh-huh, what’s up? Yeah, hold on-” Jisung lowers the phone from his ear, and Minho can see the screen light up with CB97 on the caller ID.

“It’s Channie-hyung, he’s asking me to come down to- '' Minho motions for Jisung to go on, cutting off the rest of his sentence. He knows that if Chan would interrupt Jisung’s lazy time, and ask him to come in person, he really must be stuck on something. Jisung knows this too, to be willing to give up his precious drama-watching time.

Minho cleans up the kitchen while Jisung finishes the call, and after packing up his stuff, and waiting for Jisung to change out of his sleeping pants, they leave the dorm together. A plan of sorts is forming in Minho’s mind, and if Jisung is as sorry as he claims to be (apologizing once again outside), Minho knows just the way he can make it up to him.

Minho’s plan is deceptively simple really. Seduce Jeongin. That’s easy right?

He knows how to be seductive, he does it all the time; On stage anyways. He gets paid to be seductive, so it shouldn’t be too hard to do it and mean it right? Right?

Minho is brought out of his thoughts by the sound of water hissing against the hot stove top, the pot in front of him having overflowed while boiling. He curses under his breath and removes it to the side, turning off the heat. He hurries to wipe up the spilled liquids, wiping long after the mess is all cleaned up, getting lost in thought again.

The plan is simple, and with the help of Jisung, he’s managed to get the dorm all to himself until tomorrow. Jisung, making up for his loose lips, had lured Yongbok and Seungmin over to spend the night at the other dorm with promises of movie marathons and all the snacks they wanted, on him. Seungmin was of course not hard to convince, smirking knowingly at Minho when he left that morning, suspecting if not outright knowing why the invitation had only been extended to himself and Yongbok. What excuse Jisung had made to Yongbok about why Minho and Jeongin weren’t coming was beyond him, but he had other things to worry about anyways. Like whether Jeongin would like the food he’s made, or whether making cream puffs had been overkill.

Minho hasn’t been able to look at cream filled baked goods the same way ever since that night, and Jeongin’s fondness for them didn’t exactly help matters either. But he figures it can’t hurt to have a visual back up in the seduction department, if all else fails.

Jeongin is not a picky eater. Put anything in front of him save for beans, and he’ll devour it.. In theory that should make it easy to make something for dinner, but Minho, ever the over achiever, decides to go the extra mile; knowing Jeongin hasn’t been able to visit Busan in a good while now, Minho decides he wants to give him a taste of home. He’s been at it in the kitchen ever since the others left that morning, hard at work trying to make Dwaeji Gukbap from scratch. He knows Jeongin is busy all day, and won’t be home until late. 

Minho casually sends him a message, asking if he has any plans for dinner, and if he wants to eat together when he gets back. The enthusiastic yes he gets in response has Minho smiling at his phone like a teenage boy with a crush. He’s glad no one is around to witness it.

He slaves away in the kitchen for almost the entire day, barely noticing the daylight give way to night, until his phone buzzes with an incoming message breaking him out of his focus. Jeongin just has his last lesson left, and then he’ll be on his way home. Minho tries not to go into panic mode at that, the butterflies suddenly awakening. He takes a few steady breaths before he rushes to the shower, wanting to wash off the food smell.

Minho is just finishing putting the rice in the cooker, when he hears the door chime, followed by Jeongin’s tired greeting. Minho’s heart pangs at the thought of Jeongin having had a long hard day, and doubts start to creep in. Maybe this isn’t the right time. Maybe they should just have dinner, and he can let Jeongin get some rest after. Minho wipes his suddenly clammy hands against his thighs, looking at the spread in front of him, thoughts racing. 

He tries to shake the nerves off, breathing in and out repeatedly, trying to school his features into a calm expression as he watches Jeongin slowly make his way down the hall towards him.

Jeongin stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he takes in the little feast on the table. He looks at Minho with wonder, eyes almost sparkling. A hesitant smile makes his cheeks dimple, and it makes Minho’s knees feel weak.

“Hyung?” Jeongin takes another step into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” He motions at the table and kitchen at large. He steps in closer to Minho, looking at the pot behind him on the stove. His eyes fluttering shut as he inhales deeply through his nose.

“Is that Dwaeji Gukbap?” He whispers almost reverently, his eyes open and he stares at Minho, smile so bright it’s almost blinding. ”Hyung did you-”

“You haven’t been to Busan in a while right?” Minho interrupts him, busying himself with grabbing some bowls from the overhead cabinet. “I know how much you love the food there, you always complain that they just can’t make it right up here, so I thought I’d bring Busan to you- I mean…” Minho stutters. He can feel his cheeks getting warm, and knows he must look like a tomato. He sets the dishes down on the counter shakily and makes to move past Jeongin, hiding his face in his hands as he does, but Jeongin doesn’t let him get far. A gentle arm around his waist stops him in his tracks, and Minho lets himself be pulled in against Jeongin’s chest.

“Hyung.” Jeongin’s smile is so fond, it makes Minho’s breath catch, and his blush deepen.

“Fuck, that was cheesy, pretend you didn’t hear that. Pretend I didn’t say that.” Minho rubs at his heated cheeks, hiding his face in his hands.

“I refuse.” Jeongin smiles, pulling Minho in closer, wrapping both his arms around his waist. Jeongin nudges his nose against Minho’s hands still obscuring his face from view and Minho slowly moves them aside with a sigh, meeting Jeongin’s eyes, their noses almost touching. He is so weak for Jeongin under normal circumstances; When he decides to be extra cute, he doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.

“Iyen-ah.” Minho breathes, his eyes darting down, looking at Jeongin’s lips, and he can’t help but lick at his own suddenly dry ones, anticipation making his breath hitch.

“Minho-hyung.” Jeongin’s voice sounds strained, a low gravely quality to it that makes Minho’s heart rate skyrocket. Jeongin clears his throat, and looking around, suddenly takes a step back, a barely perceptible shiver running through his body as he lets go of Minho. Minho blinks at him in confusion, already missing the warmth of his hands.

“This looks absolutely delicious, uhm…” Jeongin’s voice breaks slightly, and he has to clear it again. Minho sees a blush creep over his face too, and he can’t help but smile at him fondly, Jeongin’s apparent nervousness calming some of his own.

“Where are the others? Are they joining us?” Jeongin looks around the quiet dorm, then back at Minho.

“No.” Minho smiles at the confused smile. “It’s just us tonight.” Minho forces himself to keep eye contact despite the butterflies in his stomach going haywire. He sees when the meaning starts to dawn on Jeongin, sees his eyes widen, sees him inhale sharply and gulp.

“So, go wash up, the rice isn’t ready yet.” Minho turns around and busies himself with utensils, willing his heart to calm the fuck down and for his skin to go back to a more human color rather than imitating a fire hydrant. After a few seconds of silence, he hears Jeongin’s retreating footsteps, followed shortly after by the bathroom door closing and the sound of the shower being turned on. He lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Oh my god!” Jeongin all out moans, eyes practically rolling into the back of his skull.

Minho chuckles around a mouthful of food. Watching Jeongin’s reactions is making all the hours of work more than worth it. Jeongin stuffs his face eagerly, his eyes closing in pure bliss. He even does a little happy dance in his seat, savoring the flavor. Minho almost feels jealous of the food, intrusive thoughts of other things he’d love to do to make Jeongin moan like that, making it hard to swallow.

“This is incredible!” Jeongin praises, groaning in satisfaction. ”This is better than the stuff in Busan!” Minho blushes into his spoon, not knowing how to respond to such high praise. He swells with pride on the inside though, preening slightly.

“Stop…” Minho mumbles weakly, stuffing his face with kimchi to hide the flush in his cheeks. It’s going to be a long night if he’s already blushing this much just from a few words of appreciation. 

He’s suddenly reminded of an off hand comment Hyunjin made a while back (before fleeing) about how Minho has a praise kink. The pot calling the kettle black, Minho had thought at the time, but he hasn’t thought much of it since then.

“I’m serious, hyung. You’ve really outdone yourself.” Minho bows his head, whispering a quiet thank you, before finishing his food. Maybe it’s time to revisit the topic though, it can’t be normal to be this affected by a little praise.

Jeongin asks for seconds, and Minho is more than happy to oblige, focusing his mind on the here and now. He watches Jeongin eat quietly, even feeding him bites from the side dishes. Jeongin’s smile grows wider and wider each time he does so.

“So what’s the occasion?” Jeongin asks after a while, happily munching on a piece of stir-fried zucchini. He looks at Minho in that cute way he does sometimes, head tilted to the side, expression open and present. Minho inhales shakily, mustering up the courage to not bail on the plan. He can do this. It’s been going well so far. He can do this.

“I-I wanted to do something to show you..” The words die on his tongue, swallowed up by nerves. Jeongin lowers his chopsticks, giving him his undivided attention, a reassuring smile urging him to go on. Minho isn’t sure if that’s better or worse for his nerves. Swallowing, Minho tries again.

“T-to show you how I feel.” He manages to get out, looking down at his chopsticks rather than up at Jeongin. “To initiate for once. And so I had Jisungie help me clear the dorm for the night.” He lets out a shaky breath, letting the words hang in the air. The silence lengthens, and Minho nervously looks up at Jeongin.

“Oh.” Jeongin looks at him, too stunned to really speak, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs, eyes wide.

“Uhm, yeah…” Minho sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, the silence bordering on awkward territory, and Minho can’t stand it any longer. “So, uhm, I’ll get the dessert, shall I?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before he bolts to the fridge.

He takes longer than necessary to get the strawberries and cream he’d prepared earlier, letting the cold air cool him down. Ok, you can do this. Remember the next part of the plan . He eyes the cream puffs on the shelf. Cursing himself for having made them in the first place, he leaves without them.

He spins around, carrying the bowls over, shutting the fridge with a bump of the hip. Jeongin hasn’t moved at all by the looks of it, staring at Minho, looking slightly dazed. Minho can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He steps back to the table with a slightly forced smile, showing off the contents of the bowls with a nervous flourish, trying to lighten the strange mood. Jeongin eyes the cream, and his face gradually becomes rather red, much to Minho’s delight. The reaction gives him a sudden burst of courage and renewed confidence.

Setting the bowls on the table, he picks up a strawberry, dunks the whole thing in cream, and steps over to Jeongin.

“Say ah.” Minho opens his own mouth as he guides the cream covered fruit towards Jeongin’s lips. Jeongin’s breath stutters and his eyes widen, gaze flickering between Minho’s mouth and the strawberry, but he obediently opens his mouth, biting the large strawberry in half. Minho fights to suppress a giggle at Jeongin’s look of stunned amazement as Minho brings the remaining bite to his own mouth, licking his fingers clean, looking innocently at Jeongin.

“Hyung.” Jeongin swallows thickly, and Minho doesn’t fail to notice how he shifts in his seat, widening his legs as he does so. An idea takes root in Minho’s mind, and he struggles to keep the mischievous grin off his face as he saunters around Jeongin. Jeongin looks up at him, and practically jolts up in his seat when Minho sits down sideways on one of his legs, bringing the bowls of fruit and cream closer on the table. He twirls his finger in the air over the bowl as if contemplating which strawberry to pick shifting minutely against Jeongin’s leg, internally preening at the quiet gasp it earns him, and the hand suddenly clamped onto his thigh. He picks out an extra juicy looking berry, dipping it in cream before biting into it. Minho squeaks in surprise at the juice that runs down his chin, not anticipating just how ripe the berry is. He licks at it with a laugh before offering the rest to Jeongin.

Jeongin stares at him slack-jawed, eyes fixed on the drop of red running down his chin before Minho’s tongue catches it. He looks a little crazed, his whole body tense, and Minho feels the grip on his leg tighten a fraction. He slowly chews and swallows, eyes never leaving Minho’s.

“Hyung, w-wait, w-what’s gotten into you today?” Jeongin asks weakly, a nervous laugh making his words shake. You, hopefully, Minho finds himself thinking, but despite blushing at the thought, he simply hums non-committedly in response, like he has no clue what Jeongin is on about.

He picks another berry, a smaller one, and pops it into Jeongin’s mouth in lieu of an answer. Jeongin’s lips wrap around Minho’s index finger as he pulls it away, and Minho can’t help imagining, not for the first time that day, what those lips would look like wrapped around something else. The imagery sends pleasant shivers down his spine. Jeongin must feel it too, his eyes visibly darkening, and Minho feels the hand against his thigh twitch . The space between them feels electrified, poised to crackle asunder at any minute.

Minho waits for it, his heartbeat thundering against his ribcage, waiting for Jeongin to take the bait, to do, well something. Anything except stare at him like that. It’s a little unnerving, but mostly just makes Minho want to squirm.

Jeongin inhales deeply. Minho does too, his body buzzing in anticipation. But to Minho’s utter bewilderment, and no small amount of frustration, Jeongin simply releases the breath shakily through his mouth, and he relaxes the iron grip on Minho’s thigh, smiling reassuringly up at him.

Minho can do nothing but stare at him, stare at the adorable smile that’s meant to be comforting, but right now only fuels Minho’s irritation. Stare dumbly at Jeongin’s thumb as it traces calm circles against his leg. Jeongin tilts his head questioningly, and it makes Minho snap.

“Jisung told me!” Minho jumps up from Jeongin’s lap, nearly toppling the bowl of fruit in his haste.

“Huh?” Jeongin stares at him dumbly, looking the picture of confusion. Minho paces to and fro, clenching his fists at his sides, looking everywhere but at Jeongin as he lets the words spill forth.

“He told me he told you, and so he helped me set this up, or at least clear the dorm to apologize, and I wanted to show you I want to, to…” Minho spins around, halting in his ramblings, a few steps away from Jeongin. Fixing him with such a piercing gaze it actually makes him sit up straighter under the weight of it. Minho takes a tentative step closer.

“I know you’ve been holding back since you found out I haven’t done- that I-I haven’t bottomed before.” Minho keeps their eyes locked as he steps closer again. He forces himself to continue despite his inner voice screaming at him to shut up before he embarrasses himself any further. “I haven’t felt comfortable with it with anyone.” Another step closer. Jeongin’s eyes are glued to him, his breath coming in shallow pants. The look on Jeongin’s face, the way his eyes widen encourages Minho to keep going. “Until now.” Closer. “Until you.” Minho stands in between Jeongins legs, looking down at him, heart racing so loud he’s sure Jeongin can hear it.

Jeongin tilts his head to look up at him, and Minho is stunned once again at how beautiful he is; His slanted eyes, big and dark, looking up at him with something akin to hunger. His sharp cheekbones dusted pink. His plush lips parted and glistening with moisture from the berries.

Minho rests his hands on Jeongin’s shoulders and leans down slightly. Jeongin goes a little cross eyed trying to keep looking at him, his breath stuttering to a halt.

“I want you.” Minho whispers. “I want that to be with you, Iyen-ah, I-”

Minho doesn’t get to finish the sentence, the air being knocked out of him as Jeongin surges forward. With a firm grip around Minho’s waist, and a growled “Fuck”, that makes Minho's legs feel like Jell-O, he hoists him up and over his shoulder.

“Iyen-ah!” Minho screams, thrashing in his grip for a second, head spinning at the sudden speed and display of strength, the latter going straight to his cock. Jeongin ignores him, simply tightening the grip around Minho’s thighs, striding purposefully towards Minho’s bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind them, and unceremoniously deposits Minho onto the bed.

Minho bounces in place blinking up in surprise, but before he has a chance to miss the body heat, Jeongin is already crawling, fucking crawling, up the bed, nosing his way up Minho’s sternum, making him shiver, his breath stuttering. Inhaling deeply at Minho’s neck with a low moan, Jeongin pulls back to tower over him, his arms on either side of Minho’s head.

Minho’s brain is struggling to keep up, but he does notice how Jeongin’s arms tremble slightly, the way his hands are fisted so tightly in the sheets, his knuckles are white. Jeongin’s pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black even in the bright light of the room. 

Minho glances down and gasps at the prominent bulge tenting Jeongin’s jeans. He feels his mouth water at the sight of it, the promising size making him feel weak. Seeing Jeongin so clearly affected is doing wonders for his ego, and any misplaced insecurities about Jeongin no longer being into him, fly straight out the window.

With a quiet sigh and a fond smile, Minho reaches up to encircle his arms around Jeongin’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Jeongin melts immediately against him with a groan, letting his elbows buckle, crushing Minho under his weight. Minho gasps into the kiss; Jeongin on top of him feeling so good it’s a little crazy, and it makes his hips buck up of their own accord. Jeongin growls against his lips, making them tingle pleasantly.

“Hyung.” Jeongin pulls him impossibly closer, breaking the kiss to mouth at his jaw, continuing down his neck, panting wantonly as he goes. He leaves wet open mouthed kisses against Minho’s skin, making him moan loudly, his mind slowly going blank and all he’s able to focus on is the feel and sound of Jeongin in his arms.

Jeongin fists desperately at Minho’s shirt, tugging at the fabric as if he’s trying to pull Minho even closer.

Minho’s head is spinning, the thought of what even closer means making him feel a little lightheaded. Without thinking, Minho tilts his head to the side, baring his neck, giving Jeongin better access. He tangles his hands into Jeongin’s hair to pull him in closer still.

“Ah!” Minho cries out when he hears and feels the tear of fabric, Jeongin having pulled at the neck of his shirt with such force in his impatience to get at his skin, it’s stretched the opening wide. Jeongin freezes and looks down at Minho, panting and wide eyed.

“Oh God, I’m sorry hyun-” Jeongin begins, pulling away, face flushed in embarrassment. Minho doesn’t give him a chance to finish or get very far, pulling him in by the hair still in his grip, crashing their lips together again. 

If he’s being honest, the casual displays of strength are melting his insides. He’s never been one for muscles really, or displays of brute strength, but in this context, well; he might be discovering some new sides to himself.

“Don’t stop!” Minho breathes against Jeongin’s lips, sucking at the bottom one, pulling at it with his teeth with a low whine. He finds he can’t get enough of the feeling of Jeongin’s lips on his, the taste of him; it’s intoxicating, and Minho already feels drunk on it.

Hooking one leg over Jeongin’s hips, he pulls him in with it, angling his own hips up to meet Jeongin’s, and it makes them both groan into the kiss at the friction.

Once the need for oxygen becomes unbearable, Minho breaks the kiss with a gasp. His eyes flutter open, staring almost reverently up at Jeongin, taking in the sight of him, sweaty, disheveled and panting above him. Perfect.

Minho runs the tips of his fingers over Jeongin’s kiss swollen lips, marveling at how soft and wet they are. Jeongin meets his heated gaze with a shuddery gasp, before he gently flicks his tongue out to lick at his fingers, making Minho moan quietly. He watches enraptured as Jeongin leans down closer, rubbing their noses together, before he wraps his lips around Minho’s fingers, and sucks. A whimper escapes Minho at that, and he shudders at the way it makes Jeongin’s eyes glaze over in lust. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, all he can do is stare as Jeongin takes his fingers deeper. Unable to refrain from picturing them wrapping around his cock again, Minho curses under his breath at the visual, feeling his dick twitch in his pants. Jeongin must feel it too, the confident smirk tugging at his lips makes him look almost demonic as he releases his fingers with a pop.

Minho can do nothing besides cling to Jeongin’s shoulders as he dives back into the crook of Minho's neck with a drawn out moan, licking at his exposed clavicle, mouthing wetly over the heated flesh. He makes his way up to his pulse point, nosing behind his ear. Minho’s pulse is thundering so hard and so fast, he fears his heart is going to give out any minute; he can’t remember the last time his heart was beating so fast, if ever. If this is the time and place he dies of a heart attack… There are worse ways to go, he muses.

Jeongin’s hips rut against Minho as if of their own accord and he inhales deeply. It tickles and Minho squirms slightly, but he wouldn’t have him stop for all the pudding in the world.

“Fuck, you smell so good hyung.” Minho feels the vibrations of Jeongin’s voice against his skin, and it makes him tremble. Jeongin’s hands grip at his waist, and he slides them slowly up Minho’s torso, bunching his shirt up as he goes. When it can go no further, he raises up on his knees, pulling it up and over Minho’s head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

When Jeongin looks back down at Minho, the look is positively hungry. It makes Minho gulp loudly, looking at Jeongin’s fingers twitch, his lip curl up in a slight snarl, before he dives back in, kissing and licking and sucking at Minho’s skin, steadily moving down his body, taking Minho’s sanity with him. Every kiss, every bite, every swipe of his tongue custom curated to melt away Minho’s lucidity. Minho shivers when Jeongin takes his time to run his lips gently along the old scar on his abdomen in a soft kiss, the gesture making him want to cry for some reason. Jeongin pauses and looks up at Minho when he reaches the waistband of his pants, his fingers ghosting teasingly at the sensitive skin of his hips.

The predatory grin he directs at Minho makes him outright moan and his brain short circuit, and then he’s being manhandled out of his pants. He’d forgone putting on boxers after the shower, and Jeongin’s grin widens at the sight of his exposed state. Despite his best efforts, Minho’s prevented from closing his legs by the firm grip Jeongin has on his inner thighs.

If Minho’s brain was online, he’s sure he’d be mortified. As it stands, that’s something for future him to worry about.

Jeongin chuckles low in the back of his throat before scooting forward on his stomach to kiss up the inside of Minho’s thigh. He noses at the junction of his thigh and groin, inhaling deeply, and licks at the pale smooth skin. Minho hides his face, trying to muffle the needy noises starting to spill forth.

Yup, future him is going to want to find the nearest tall place, and fling himself off of it come morning.

He dares to peek down at Jeongin in-between his fingers when he feels him go still. Jeongin looks up at him, eyes dark, practically drooling.

“Did you wash for me?” he whispers, his lips ghosting over Minho’s balls. Minho gapes at him.

Unless present Minho doesn’t die right here of embarrassment.

“Did you shave for me?” Jeongin continues in the same breath, licking lightly at the smooth flesh, before sucking one of the balls into his mouth, never breaking eye contact. It feels like he’s silently commanding Minho not to look away.

“F-fuck!” Minho breathes, sounding wrecked already, utterly helpless to look away, eyes tearing up slightly. He can hardly blink, can’t tear his eyes away even as Jeongin moves lower.

While showering earlier, Minho had impulsively decided to shave down there. He usually keeps it all nicely trimmed, but he’s never gone beyond that. Maybe he was just feeling a little optimistic, equal parts embarrassed and aroused as he shaved it all cleanly, save for the patch of hair above his groin, leaving it neatly trimmed per usual.

Minho arches his back as much as he can with a gasp when Jeongin, pushing one of his thighs up towards his chest, ducks down to lick down his taint. Moving lower, Jeongin lets his tongue lap broadly at Minho’s hole, and he halts after the first swipe to look up at him. His eyes are practically glowing, a gasping laugh breathed against Minho’s wet skin, making him shiver.

“Did - Did you prep for me?” Jeongin asks in awe, his voice dropping low and sounding strained. Minho feels the grip on his legs tighten, fingers digging in almost painfully. He can’t help the moan that escapes him. With a loud whine of embarrassment, he nods almost imperceptibly before hiding his burning face behind his arms.

Minho had been a little more than optimistic when he’d brought the lube into the shower, and just the presence of it had made him hard. It would have been a waste not to at least try it out, he reasoned. Gripping himself roughly, and with two fingers as deep as he could reach while thinking of Jeongin’s hands, he’d cum in no time at all. His phone's timer going off had him rushing to get dressed, forgetting to fully clean out the lube in his haste to get back to the kitchen before anything got burnt.

Jeongin remains frozen for a fraction of a second longer, before diving back down again with an almost pained groan, licking at Minho’s hole with relish.

“Mmm, strawberry, my favorite.” Jeongin moans loudly, licking into Minho without abandon, sucking at his rim, making his legs shake, the pitch of Minho’s moans increasing.

So Minho had been very optimistic indeed when he’d bought the strawberry flavored lube. They were out of the regular one or something; whatever excuse he’d been prepared to use can’t penetrate the cloud of feel-good hormones slowly filling his brain in tandem with Jeongin’s tongue filling him up. Minho feels dizzy, and slightly deranged, his mind is full of cotton. 

There’s no room in there for anything else but the feel of Jeongin’s hands; the way his fingers dig into the flesh of his inner thighs, pulling him open. Jeongin’s tongue; wiggling into him deeper with every swipe, his hot labored breaths against Minho's wet skin making goosebumps break out all along his legs.  The way his voice sounds, moans filling the room to harmonize so sweetly with Minho’s own; a cacophony of pleasure. Minho clutches desperately at any part of Jeongin he can reach, an acute need for him to be closer suddenly washing over him, taking his breath away with its intensity.

“I-I need-” Minho tries to get the words out, squirming under Jeongin’s firm hands. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, and it’s not cooperating at all. He keens loudly, fingers grabbing feebly  at Jeongin's shoulders to get his attention.

Jeongin halts in his ministrations, lifting his head from between Minho’s legs, and the view threatens to send Minho into an early grave; lips parted, his breath coming in short pants against Minho's flushed skin, his chin and lips glistening with wetness,  his eyes dark and hungry pools of want - Jeogin can’t possibly be good for his health. 

Minho makes grabby hands at him, a broken whine tearing its way out of his mouth, his body starting to tremble.

“Iyen-ah, I- Up here, I need… Kiss-” Minho tries again, but he’s unable to make a full sentence, the words getting all jumbled on the way from his brain to his mouth. Jeongin seems to understand him thankfully, pulling himself up, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, a maddening smirking tugging at the corner of his lips. 

As soon as he’s within grabbing distance, Minho pulls him in with a desperate moan, molding their lips together again. The taste of artificial strawberries makes him groan. He makes a mental note to stock up on the stuff next time he's online shopping.

Running his hands through Jeongin’s hair, Minho tugs at it with need. It makes Jeongin hiss, momentarily breaking the kiss as he drives his pelvis forward to grind against Minho’s thigh with a groan. He smooths his hands along Minho’s sides, soothing the trembling, gazing down at him.

This is a first for Minho - he's never felt this needy before with any of his previous partners; his body is shaking for god's sake! But he can't find it in himself to even feel embarrassed about it, not now, not when Jeongin is looking at him like that, like he'd pluck the stars down from the heavens for him if he asked him to. Instead, he wraps his legs around Jeongin’s hips, cupping his face to mold their lips together again, needing him as close as he can get him, losing himself in the feel and taste of him.

Minho feels all floaty, high on endorphins and the feel of Jeongin’s hands, feeling like hot irons branding him wherever they touch.

He’s suddenly jolted out of the floaty headspace when he feels one of Jeongin’s fingers pushing into him.

Minho moans loudly against Jeongins lips as his eyes fly open.

Doing it yourself is one thing, but having someone else’s fingers breach you is a whole new experience. To have someone with as long fingers as Jeongin do it is making Minho’s mind unravel at the seams. Without difficulty, Jeongin is able to reach much deeper than Minho can himself from this angle, and it doesn’t take long before he has him reduced to a mewling mess, finding his prostate with deft fingers easily. Minho lets out a shocked gasp when he realizes Jeongin already has two fingers up there, when did he add the second one?

“I-Iyen-ah! That - ah!” Minho clutches at Jeongin’s neck and shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles hard enough to bruise as he  arches his back. He moans into Jeongin's ear, unable to form coherent words, getting drunk on the pleasure. He whimpers against the side of Jeongin’s throat , feeling his thundering pulse against his tongue.

“Minho-hyung, does it feel good?” Minho lets out a sound of pure disbelief, pulling far enough back to look at him, meaning to ask if Jeongin is being serious right now. His breath catches in his throat and the words die on his tongue at the look on Jeongin’s face; Gone is the confident smirk from earlier, replaced with an uncertain, almost pleading look, like he’s silently begging for Minho’s approval, like he’s desperate to know that he’s making Minho feel good. Minho’s face softens and he cups Jeongin’s cheeks, pulling him in for a soft kiss, a featherlight brush of lips. Jeongin lets out a breathy moan at the contact, exhaling heavily as if he’d been holding his breath.

Minho pulls them apart to meet Jeongins eyes again.

“It feels good, Iyen-ah.” He rubs their noses together, his eyelids becoming hooded with lust. “You feel good.” He whispers quietly against Jeongins lips, swallowing his surprise gasp in a deep kiss.

Minho squeaks in surprise when Jeongin gets back to the task at hand with renewed confidence, the growled moan he lets out making his lips tingle. Minho wails when Jeongin starts scissoring his fingers, stretching him out. If the task in question is reducing Minho to a bumbling dazed mess, Jeongin is succeeding phenomenally.

“That’s it, baby.” Whispering low against Minho’s temple, Jeongin peers down at where his fingers disappear from view. Minho gasps when he feels a third finger pressing into him, the slight burn making him cry out brokenly, clutching at Jeongin’s arm like it’s his last tether to his sanity.

“You look so good,” Jeongin leaves gentle kisses along Minho’s cheekbone. “Being so good for me.”  He keeps whispering continuous words of praise against Minho's skin and the intensity of the sensations coursing through Minho feel like they’re going to drown him, it’s too much and yet not enough all at the same time. Jeongin’s insistent fingers keep pressing up into that spot inside him that has him seeing stars, the edge of his vision blurring. He has to clench his eyes shut, the assault on all his senses threatening to overwhelm him.

Minho practically jolts off the bed with a gasp when he suddenly feels lips wrap around one of his nipples. He looks down at Jeongin, his glare bordering on accusatory. Jeongin slows down the movement of his fingers grinning cheekily up at Minho. He swipes his tongue over the hard peak again while keeping his eyes fixed on Minho, making Minho’s chest heave with a choked moan.

“Still so sensitive hyung, even after taking out the piercings.” Jeongin snickers at Minho’s slack jawed reaction.

Despite having removed the barbells as soon as the agreed upon time period had ended (not wanting any eagle eyed Stay to capture pictures of them showing through his clothes) Minho had been shocked to discover that the added sensitivity barely diminished, and while he'd somehow gotten used to the sensation on a day to day basis, and clothes didn't make him squirm anymore, direct contact like this, he fears given enough time and stimulation, he'd be able to cum from just his nipples. The thought alone makes him almost dizzy, his cock twitching between their bodies. 

If Jeongin notices, he doesn't comment on it, although the knowing smirk once again makes an appearance. He doesn’t give Minho long to remain dazed though, increasing the speed of his hand again, stroking mercilessly over the bundle of nerves inside, while sucking and nibbling Minho’s skin alternating between the nipples, leaving them red and puffy and wet. He somehow manages to hold Minho’s trashing form against him with one arm, as Minho falls apart in his embrace, his cries bouncing off the walls, getting louder and louder. His neglected cock slaps heavily against his abdomen with every buck of his hips, pre-cum dribbling freely from the tip.

“Iyen-ah, I c-can’t - I’m gonna-” Minho manages to cry out before his orgasm crashes into him like a tsunami, catching him completely by surprise. Ropes of white splatter all over their chests and Jeongin’s arm, his voice a broken hoarse howl of pleasure. Jeongin watches him in awe, slowing down the pump of his fingers, guiding him through it. He only fully stops when Minho shudders and squirms in his hold, pleading for him to stop while clutching at his arm, breath coming out in broken sobs. Minho hisses when Jeongin slowly retracts his fingers and wipes them clean on the sheets, before dragging Minho against him into a tight hug.

“So cute, hyung.” Jeongin squeezes Minho even closer, peppering his face and lips with kisses, making Minho giggle and squirm against the onslaught.

“Stop, shut up!” Minho tries in vain to hide his blushing face, feeling the post-nut mortification settling in.

“You’re adorable, I can’t help it.” Jeongin giggles, trailing kisses down Minho’s neck, humming in pleasure as he goes. Minho stares blankly up at the ceiling, the enormity of what just happened washing over him like a tidal wave. He squirms in place, managing to ball up into a fetal position with a loud whine.

“I can’t believe I just-” Minho groans into his hands, scrunching his eyes shut. “That’s never - I’ve never…” Minho mumbles into his hands and feels Jeongin still next to him for a moment, a quiet gasp breathed against the nape of his neck.

“Wait, you…” Jeongin pulls at Minho, pulls at his arms and hands until he’s managed to wrestle him close again, holding his face between his large hands, a slightly deranged gleam in his eyes.

“You’ve never done that before?” Jeongin’s voice trembles slightly, making Minho’s breath quicken again. Minho’s ears burn, but the intensity of Jeongin’s gaze makes it impossible to look away.

“Not just from…” Minho’s voice tapers off to nothing, his eyes flutter, chest heaving more and more with every second Jeongin keeps staring at him like that. Like he’s just been given a priceless gift. It makes Minho’s chest ache.

He’s well versed in the pleasures of the prostate, his toy collection speaks for itself. But cumming untouched is an entirely new experience for Minho, and something he’s frankly always believed to be a myth; a fantasy created by the porn industry to sell movies, not something actually possible in real life.

Before Jeongin can say anything though, Minho surges forward, kissing him breathless, not ready to hear whatever he has to say just yet. He clutches at Jeongin’s shirt, pulling at the offending fabric, moaning “off” repeatedly in-between kisses, barely wanting to pull away long enough for Jeongin to actually pull it off, tossing it to join Minho’s somewhere on the floor.

“W-Wanna- ah!” Minho can’t stop the needy sounds pouring out of him. Clutching at Jeongin’s back, he moans at finally feeling his skin with no obstacle. Running his fingers up his spine, he strokes his fingers along that spot he knows makes Jeongin squirm in pleasure. Jeongin shudders and cries out against his mouth, the kissing having devolved into just sharing breaths, lips barely moving. Minho swallows thickly, trying to form words, but to no avail.

Jeongin rutting against his strong thigh, the feeling of his hardness coupled with the devastatingly delicious sounds coming from him, has Minho chubbing up again, always having had a very short refractory period even under normal circumstances. The blood rushing south again is leaving the language portion of his brain sorely depleted of function.

“I-I wanna make you f-eel gah-g-good too, Iyen-ah!” Minho manages to breathe against Jeongin’s lips, his hips stuttering upwards, seeking more friction.

Jeongin pulls back far enough to look at Minho like he’s crazy, an incredulous smile on his face. Minho pouts up at him, pulling at his shoulders, meaning to roll them over, growing impatient.

Jeongin allows himself to be steered, ending up on his back, leaning against the headboard, looking like some sex deity. He’s eyeing Minho intently as he knee-crawls over to him, hard cock bobbing between his legs as he moves. Jeongin reaches out to touch him only to get his hand smacked away. He chuckles at the determined look in Minho’s eyes, rubbing at his hand.

Minho huffs out a breath through his nose, knowing he didn't actually hit him hard. He's using all of his determination not to get side tracked again, and Jeongin’s hands on him make his brain melt like melted cheese. He’s staring at Jeongin’s pants like they’ve personally offended him somehow,  before he yanks at them along with the boxers. Jeongin helpfully lifting his hips with a low chuckle, allowing Minho to pull them off fully, before settling back further against the headboard, now fully naked. 

Minho can't help it; he openly stares, his mouth suddenly filling up with saliva. A light blush creeps up Jeongin’s neck at the intensity in Minho's eyes, his hands clutching at the sheets next to him, almost like he wants to cover himself. But he remains still, allowing Minho the time he needs. It’s only fair after all.

Jeongin is perfection. Minho could stare at him for hours. He suddenly has a more keen understanding of what Hyunjin had meant when he went on and on about the statues he’d seen in Italy, gushing about the curves and flow of the marble, the expertly carved anatomy and how it took his breath away. Jeongin puts all those sculptures to shame a thousand times over. He, in Minho's oh so humble opinion, is a masterpiece.

His skin is pale but honey toned, darker on his arms and lower legs, the parts that see more sunlight on the regular. The muscles clearly visible and defined under the soft skin twitch and ripple as he breathes. A light dusting of hair covering his legs and arms, and his chest rises shakily, while his abs contract under Minho’s gaze. 

Minho lets his eyes roam from Jeongin’s collar bone, down the center of his chest, roving  over each bump of his abdominal muscles. He licks his lips, his eyes trailing down Jeongin's  happy trail, barely visible since he usually keeps it shaved, down to his hard leaking length, resting heavy in the crook of his thigh. It’s bigger than what Minho had pictured it would be, thicker too, with a prominent vein running up its length, ending just below the slightly bulbous tip, now flushed an almost purple color with need. Minho bites his lower lip with a quiet groan, itching to know what it tastes like.

A gentle touch to his leg has him whipping his head up, breaking him out of his reverie. Swallowing thickly, and blinking rapidly, Minho looks at Jeongin’s face, the return of moisture to his eyes almost painful, he’d forgotten to blink.

“Hyung…” Jeongin looks at him imploringly, his eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown, a crooked smile on his lips. His hair is a tangled mess from Minho’s clutching hands, and Minho can’t help but stare again, wanting to imprint this image onto his retinas so it will forever be what he sees whenever he closes his eyes. Another gentle, but firm squeeze of his knee has him finally moving.

Minho inhales shakily, and shuffles forward to throw a leg over Jeongin’s thighs, straddling his hips. Jeongin lets out a wobbly sigh as Minho settles carefully onto his lap, his hands coming up to grip Minho’s hips, pulling them fully down and they let out matching moans when their cocks finally rub against each other without any barriers. Minho’s vision goes blurry, his head spinning; the actual feel of Jeongin’s hard naked cock against his own is better than he could have ever imagined, putting any and all of his fantasies to shame.

“Ah, hyung!” Jeongin’s voice trembles, he looks up at Minho, lips slightly open, panting. Perfection. A masterpiece. All for me.

Minho cups Jeongin’s face, surging forward to lick at his lips before his inside thoughts become outside thoughts, swallowing the moans Jeongin makes in the process. Unable to help himself, he starts rocking his hips back and forth, needing to feel more, groaning against Jeongin's tongue.

Jeongin sits up, pulling Minho closer, breaking the kiss to lick down the column of his neck, and down his chest, whimpering against Minho's heated skin. Minho throws his head back with a choked cry as Jeongin bites down on a nipple again, his hips grinding down with more purpose. Jeongin’s hands paw up Minho’s thighs, gripping hard enough to bruise, and Minho hopes they do; hopes Jeongin leaves marks that will last for days.

“More..” Minho breathes against the top of Jeongin’s head, cradling his head against his chest, his fingers twitching against his damp locks with every swipe of Jeongin's tongue. He rocks his hips faster and harder, seeking more friction, his cock dribbling copious amounts of pre-cum against Jeongin’s abs.

Jeongin grabs at Minhos ass with a deep groan, panting wetly against his chest, cock twitching when his fingers find Minho’s hole again, easily slipping in. Minho pushes back, grinding down on his long fingers, no conscious though moving him, his body simply going on autopilot, seeking more pleasure. He jolts up with a yell when Jeongin finds his prostate, already feeling like he could cum again.

“Iyen-ah!” Minho mewls brokenly, Jeongin's fingers are Minho's new favorite thing about him. It therefore takes every ounce of strength and self control he has left, to still his hips and pull Jeongin’s face up to look at him. Jeongin’s eyes are glazed over with need when he stares up, stopping the movement of his hand. A confused moan leaves him, a string of saliva still clinging between his lips and Minho’s abused nipple. The threat of an imminent orgasm washes over Minho again, and he grips desperately at the base of his dick, fearing he might actually cum otherwise, just from looking at Jeongin’s fucked out expression.

“I- I wanna feel you.” Minho grinds out between clenched teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. Jeongin keeps looking up at him in confusion, and Minho would find it adorable if he wasn't so desperate. “Inside.” He moans. 

Jeongin freezes for a second, but then his eyes widen with realization and grow impossibly darker, the dazed look replaced by a starved one. With a low, primal growl, he grabs Minho’s hips roughly, making him gasp in surprise, his heart skipping a beat or two.

In one swift motion, Jeongin has Minho flipped off his lap and onto his stomach facing the foot end of the bed. Minho’s startled cry morphs into a drawn out moan when he feels Jeongin slot himself on top of him, chest to back, bearing his weight down, his thick, leaking cock nestling perfectly against the swell of his ass. Minho can't help the way his body moves back against him, his hips shifting higher to rub against the hardness, making Jeongin’s breath hitch.

“Do you have condoms?” Jeongin pants against Minho’s shoulder, his hands pinning his hips down gently. He nibbles at Minho's skin scanning the room, as if Minho would just openly keep a pack of condoms lying around like some sex fiend. He hasn't been laid in so long, he practically feels like a born-again virgin. Minho has always been a one-partner-at-a-time kind of guy, and he's always made a habit of getting tested after any new partner, hating the barrier of condoms.

Minho can feel the panic slowly bubbling up in him. Trying not to show how flustered he is by the concept of finally having sex again, now that they’ve actually gotten to this point, mixed with the illogical anxiety at the thought of having to use a condom with Jeongin, Minho goes to his default state when cornered - snarky and defensive.

“Should I be offended? Do you think I just sleep with dozens of people?" Trying for a confident tone, it comes out rather shaky and a little high pitched, much to Minho's chagrin, and he can feel his face growing hotter. He turns his head away, hiding it fully, glad for the current position where Jeongin can't see his face. Jeongin's chuckle makes his ears burn even more and a wave of humiliation washes over him at the sound of it.

“I haven't slept with anyone in forever, so unless you've been out there, whoring yourself out without using protection-” Minho claps his hand over his own mouth, stopping himself from saying anything more, his nerves getting the better of him, turning him mean. The last thing he wants is to be mean, to make Jeongin feel bad for anything he's done. Minho doesn’t even care if Jeongin has slept with loads of people - a tiny part of him screams liar at him, but he pushes it down. 

"I mean - I didn't mean to-" Minho makes to turn around, his face pinched in guilt at his harsh words. How is he supposed to explain to Jeongin that he's not shaming him for being sexually active just because Minho has been all but celibate for the better part of a year, not counting the episode in the practice room, that he's just nervous and- His train of thought is abruptly interrupted by the sound of laughter. His mouth falls open in disbelief,  staring back at Jeongin, who’s outright laughing, low and breathy, his eyes full of fondness, his dimples out in full force. The laugh ghosts against Minho’s damp back, making him shiver, and he's at a loss for words. Jeongin leans in close, the remnants of the laughter still rumbling in his chest, his eyes practically glowing.

"What a roundabout way of saying you want me to fuck you raw, hyung." He breathes against the shell of Minho's ear, making him choke on his next breath, letting out a broken moan.

"Fuck you, shut up!" Minho shrieks, burying his face into the crook of his elbow, shrinking into the mattress. His face feels hot enough to power a small country.

"With pleasure." Jeongin hums, dragging his hands up Minho’s sides, bringing one up to tangle in his hair, gently pulling until Minho lifts his head to look at him. Minho pants open mouthed, clutching at the sheets in front of him straining his eyes to look at Jeongin.

“I haven’t been with anyone in ages hyung, and I always get tested.” Jeongin kisses along Minho’s jawline to slot their lips together, and despite the angle making Minho’s neck ache, he twists his head even more, deepening the kiss.

“Really?” Minho breathes between kisses, in quiet disbelief at the notion that Jeongin, who he deems in his utterly impartial and unbiased opinion as being the sexiest, most desirable one of the group, isn’t getting laid constantly. 

“Ages.” Jeongin smiles into the kiss, sucking at Minho’s upper lip. That little possessive part inside him purrs at Jeongin's words. 

One hand still firmly buried in Minho’s hair, Jeongin slides the other down his back to grip his ass firmly, shifting his own hips slightly backwards as he squeezes. Minho arches his spine with a gasp, lifting his hips slightly off the mattress, seeking contact.

Jeongin curses loudly when Minho, blindly pawing behind him, wraps his hand around Jeongin’s cock, guiding it in-between his leg, shifting his thighs further apart. Sticking his butt further out, Minho’s breath comes out fast and labored. Jeongin lets go of his hair, and Minho’s head slumps forward with a groan. He grips the sheets in front of him when he feels Jeongin adjusting, the tip of his cock nudging at his hole. Minho whines impatiently, trying to push his hips back, past the point of caring if he comes off as a needy desperate mess - he's not ashamed of who he is! Jeongin’s hands prevent him from succeeding, making him whine louder.

“Lube?” Jeongin chuckles hoarsely, his voice sounding tense, his hands tightening their grip imperceptibly.

“T-Top drawer of the-” Minho struggles to speak, his brain lagging. He gestures feebly behind him towards the nightstand, moaning weakly when Jeongin shifts back, reaching for the drawer without getting completely off of Minho. Minho’s foggy brain barely registers the sound of a cap being opened, before he jolts up with a yell at the feel of cold lube suddenly being drizzled directly onto his hole.

“Ah! T-that’s cold!”

“Sorry, hyung.” Jeongin shifts his weight back over Minho with a chuckle, not sounding sorry in the least, the little shit. Tossing the bottle of lube somewhere to the side, he leans forward again, moaning when his cock drags along the cleft of Minho’s ass, the slide smooth and wet, the sound making Minho’s ears burn. He chokes on a moan when the head catches on his sensitive rim, Jeongin stopping the rocking of his hips with a shudder.

“H-Hyung?” Jeongin’s voice is wrecked, equal parts needy and questioning, the trembling of his body transferring onto Minho, making his mind go numb. Minho can’t speak, can hardly breath. All he can do is nod profusely, trying to shift his weight back to meet Jeongin, blindly seeking for him with his hand. Jeongin intertwines their fingers together for a brief moment, giving Minho’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He lets go to grasp Minho’s ass in both hands again, his thumbs spreading him open, rocking his hips forward with purpose. They both gasp loudly when the head of Jeongin’s cock finally catches, a gentle push making it slowly slide past the tight opening.

Minho almost sobs into the sheets, drool running down the corner of his mouth. The feeling is so familiar yet so foreign, the stretch much greater than what he’s used to, Jeongin being a good deal bigger than even his girthiest toy.

Pushing himself shakily up on his elbows, Minho strains to look behind him. He groans at the sight of Jeongin; wild eyed, veins in his forearms bulging as he fights to hold himself back from moving, always so attentive to Minho’s needs. He stares wantonly at Minho, lips falling open as his chest heaves.

“J-Jeongin-ah.” Minho stutters, panting just as hard. He feels Jeongin’s fingers twitch against him. “Move.”

Jeongin moans like a wounded animal when he’s finally allowed to drive his hips forward into Minho’s tightness, practically collapsing onto his back, bottoming out in one fluid motion, taking Minho's Breath away. Jeongin inhales deeply at the back of Minho’s neck, licking at the sweat gathered there, humming in pleasure, as if Minho is some delectable dessert to be savored. Minho arches his spine, grinding his ass against Jeongin’s pelvis in the limited space, feeling like he’s going to combust if Jeongin doesn’t move again, his own sounds slightly muffled by the sheets clutched between his teeth.

Jeongin sets a torturously slow pace, rolling his hips in a way that has had many a Stay frothing at the mouth witnessing it on stage. Minho whimpers into the sheets, his voice sounding high pitched and needy to his own ears. The thought that he should be embarrassed flitters through his mind briefly, but then Jeongin grinds his hips forward harder, driving himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, and the thought evaporates into thin air. Jeongin shifts forward slightly, nosing at Minho’s neck again.

Minho cries out, letting the sheet fall from his lips, gasping when the slight change in angle makes Jeongin’s cock drag against his prostate with every single thrust. He’s relentless, driving Minho closer and closer to the edge with every roll of his hips, his moans muffled against Minho’s pulse.

Jeongin’s hips stutter and falter on the next thrust, and for a second Minho thinks he just came or something. He puts a pin in the twinge of pride he feels at the notion, but before he’s able to ask what’s wrong, he feels a rumble against his back. This time, Jeongin’s laughter is like honey, the lust so thick in it, Minho can practically taste it.

“What are you laughing at now?” Minho manages between panted breaths, turning his head around with a huff to look back at Jeongin in disbelief. But Jeongin isn’t looking at him as he chuckles deeply, his eyes hooded and dark. Minho follows his gaze, eyebrows drawing together in a confused frown, turning his head back around towards the door, trying to see what could possibly be amusing enough to stop mid-thrust. His eyebrows shoot up and his breath stutters and lodges in his throat when he sees it.

On the wall next to the door, there’s a full length mirror. From their current position on the bed, they have an unobstructed view of it. Minho sees himself grow as red as the strawberries they had before, what feels like ages ago now to his addled mind, and he tries desperately to hide with a panicked yelp, to bury his face into the mattress, to escape from the overwhelming view of himself pinned under Jeongin. A firm grip on his hair has his neck arching up again, and he hisses at the sting in his scalp. He can’t help the way his hips jerk forward, the pain morphing into pleasure as Jeongin tightens his hand into a fist, and brings his lips against the shell of Minho’s ear, his hot breath making Minho’s breath stutter.

“Look at you.” Jeongin sighs, licking down the outer rim, gently sucking the lobe between his lips. He stares directly at Minho in the reflection, and Minho whines, scrunching his eyes shut.

“Don’t look away, hyung.” Jeongin purrs in his ear, voice barely above a whisper. Even if he’d wanted to, Minho doubts he’d be able to resist the urge to obey. His eyes flutter open, and he forces himself to meet Jeongin’s dark eyes head on, ears burning. Jeongin’s lips quirk in that predatory smile again, turning his eyes into thin slits.

“Good boy, hyung.” He noses at the hinge of Minho’s jaw, eyes never leaving his. Minho feels like he’s in some sort of fever dream, and when Jeongin starts to move his hips again, clutching at Minho’s hair for leverage, all Minho can do, is stare it his own reflection; at the way his mouth falls open on a silent cry, how the vein in his neck bulges as Jeongin drives his hips forward with increasing ferocity.

“S-so good for me.” Jeongin moans shakily against Minho’s shoulder, biting into the soft flesh. The sudden jolt of pain makes Minho cry out brokenly, feeling himself leak even more against the sheets beneath him. Jeongin grins against his skin, soothing the bite with a gentle swipe of his tongue. His eyes shine with a predatory gleam Minho has never seen before, and he can feel tears of embarrassment and arousal stinging the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t look away.

Jeongin presses Minho further down into the bed, rocking his hips faster, pushing Minho’s cock to drag against the sheets under him, the friction a little painful, but Minho is shocked to discover he’s loving every minute of it. Yet more he needs to unpack at a later date.

Jeongin encircles his other arm around Minho’s neck, grabbing at his jaw, holding him in place, as he fucks into him. Minho clutches at any part of Jeongin he can reach, clawing at him with blunt fingernails, and even when the tears finally fall, leaving wet salty streaks down his cheeks, Minho still doesn’t look away.

“I w-wanna kiss you.” Minho turns his head to the side as much as he can, needing to feel Jeongin’s lips on his. Jeongin leans in, running his tongue over Minho’s lips, panting wetly against his mouth before pulling back again.

“Properly.” Minho sobs, more frustrated tears spilling forth at being denied a proper kiss. Jeongin halts his movements, eyeing Minho’s tear-streaked profile in earnest.

He wraps his arms around Minho’s chest, rolling them over to lie on their sides. Without pulling out, he slides Minho’s upper body to lie in the crook of his arm on his back, while pulling one of Minho’s legs up and over his hip. Thrusting forward, he once again buries himself to the hilt, making Minho moan. The position allows Minho to finally look up at Jeongin, to touch him, to cup his face.

“Better?” Jeongin smiles down at Minho, blinking slowly at him as he rolls his hips again. He noses at Minho’s temple, grazing his lips along his cheek, licking at the traces of tears. Minho subconsciously leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut of their own accord.

“Much better.” Pulling Jeongin in by the neck, Minho sighs when his lips find Jeongin’s, finally being able to kiss him properly again. 

Jeongin splays his large hand over Minho’s chest pulling him in closer as they kiss, and Minho feels his thundering heartbeat against his back, a duplicate of his own. Grabbing one of Minho’s pecs firmly, Jeongin starts thrusting his hips in earnest, moaning Minho’s name into his ear. Minho in turn screams at a particularly well aimed thrust, drool running down his chin as his eyes roll back into his skull. He’s beyond caring about holding back his moans anymore, letting his voice spill forth unobstructed, outright sobbing in pleasure. He crosses his arms over his eyes, face aflame.

“Look at me.” Jeongin implores, pulling weakly at Minho’s arm. “Don’t hide, let me see how good I make you feel.” Minho’s laugh comes out a little deranged as he lowers his arms to meet Jeongin’s eyes. He just can’t help it, Jeongin’s words are driving him crazy. Jeongin has an almost longing look in his eyes, his eyes dark with lust, with need. Need for Minho, a need mirrored in his own eyes, he's sure. 

“Harder,” Minho begs, his chest heaving as he arches his spine. Jeongin obliges with a curse under his breath, and starts pounding into him without abandon, making Minho moan his name over and over again like a mantra, tears clinging to the ends of his lashes.

Minho is rambling, he knows he is. But he’s helpless to stop it. The force of the thrusts would have long since sent him falling off the edge of the bed if it weren’t for Jeongin’s hold on him. His hands seem to be everywhere all at once; gripping his hips, stroking his hair, pawing at his chest, fingers ghosting over his nipples, alternating between gently rubbing and pinching hard enough for Minho to cry out. Hands wrapping gently around Minho's neck to squeeze ever so slightly, making his breath stutter despite the lack of any real pressure - If Minho didn’t know any better, he’d be convinced Jeongin had spontaneously sprouted 4 extra limbs.

Minho’s pleading cries fill the room. He’s not quite sure what exactly he’s pleading for, but he keeps repeating the word “please” over and over again, sobbing it against the column of Jeongin’s throat, his hand clutching at Jeongin’s hair, trying to ground himself. 

Jeongin slides the hand on Minho’s chest down over his stomach, swallowing up Minho’s sounds in a sloppy kiss. The way the hand basically covers his entire stomach is making Minho a little loopy, like his synapses are misfiring or something. Minho jolts up with a hoarse gasp as Jeongin moves his hand even lower to wrap his long fingers around Minho's aching cock and manages to pump his fist all of three times before Minho is convulsing in his arms, the force of the orgasm feeling like it’s going to tear him asunder. Minho doesn’t even recognize his own voice, moaning Jeongin’s name over and over and over again as he cums. His legs are quivering so bad it almost makes Jeongin slip out entirely.

Jeongin strokes him through it, holding him tightly as the tremors subside, kissing his face and neck, whispering praise in his ear that makes Minho shiver again. 

Once the fog starts to clear from his mind, Minho becomes aware of Jeongin trembling slightly against him, and he suddenly realizes Jeongin is holding back, his hips having stilled entirely, and the white knuckled grip on Minho's hips a dead give away. Minho shifts his ass against him, he can't help himself, and it makes Jeongin's breath hitch. Minho bites down on his lip to stop from crying out at the feeling, the way it’s almost too much. But only almost. He probably won’t admit it freely, but Minho has been suspecting for some time now, that he may like a little pain mixed in with the pleasure. 

He can’t stop the noise he lets out when Jeongin shifts forward, his dick hitting Minho’s prostate head. And Jeongin, misinterpreting the sound as one of pain, goes to pull out.

“Ah, sorry hyung, I didn-”

“No, don’t!” Jeongin freezes in place at Minho’s protest, and the hand clamped over his hip preventing him from moving further back. Minho’s chest heaves as he works to steady his breathing. Looking up at Jeongin, his cheeks are flushed pink, either from embarrassment or from just cumming, most likely a mix of both, but his gaze is steady when it meets Jeongin’s. And his voice, low as it is, is even.

“Don’t pull out.” Minho stares at him without blinking. “Keep going.” He grinds his ass back against Jeongin, making him choke on air. Minho moans lightly when he feels Jeongin sheath himself fully in him again, burying his face against Minho’s neck to stifle his moans.

“Minho-hyu-” Jeongins voice is little more than a hoarse whimper against Minho’s damp skin. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling up the room once more as Jeongin starts to piston his hips in earnest again. Minho throws his head back, moaning at the way Jeongin’s voice sounds, craving to taste it. Fisting his hand into Jeongin’s hair, Minho curves his neck to the side to chase his lips. Mouthing along his sharp jawline, licking up the droplets of sweat as he goes, he tightens his fist to make Jeongin turn his head. The glazed look in Jeongin’s eyes makes Minho’s cock twitch in a valiant effort at getting hard again. He may have a short refractory period, but even he needs longer than a few minutes after two back to back orgasms.

“Please-ah!” Minho moans against Jeongins mouth. “N-Need you!” Jeongin’s hips falter on the next thrust, and he lets out a broken moan, staring at Minho with wide eyes. “Need you to fill me up!” Jeongin buries his face in the crook of Minho’s neck once more, biting down, in vain trying to stifle the scream as he cums, buried deep inside Minho, thighs trembling. Minho hisses at the bite, and purrs in contentment at the feel of Jeongin twitching inside him, filling him up. Minho leans his head back against Jeongin’s shoulder, closing his eyes and just inhaling deeply.

They stay like that for a while, catching their breaths, Jeongin absentmindedly drawing nonsensical patterns against Minho’s upper arm, nosing at the skin behind his ear. Minho hums serenely, until he feels Jeongin go fully soft again, and he can’t help but let out a little yelp of alarm when he feels him slip out. The sudden feeling of emptiness washes over him, and he must make some kind of pained expression, because next thing he knows, two of Jeongin’s fingers are filling him up again, setting his axis back into position. Minho's jaw falls open with a gasp, and he looks up at Jeongin with something akin to wonder. Jeongin minutely thrusts his fingers further in, all the while keeping his eyes intently fixed on Minho’s face, making him let out a shaky moan. The sound of lube and cum being pushed back into him should be embarrassing. Minho fears something in his mind might have broken somewhere along the way, because he can’t seem to find the brainpower to feel anything else in the moment, aside from bliss.

And that’s why, when Jeongin pulls his fingers out again after a minute, glistening wet, Minho grabs his hand, and before he can even think it through beyond the immediate need, he brings the digits up to his lips, letting his tongue swipe over the slick covering them, before he sucks them into his mouth with a moan. The sweet taste of strawberries, mixed with the slightly salty and bitter taste of Jeongin is a combination Minho didn’t know he needed until this very moment. Jeongin’s strangled cry makes Minho's eyes fly open ( when had he closed them?) and he lets go of the fingers with a pop, licking the last remnants of liquid off his lips.

“What?” Minho asks innocently, the bashful smile in direct contrast to the way he smacks his lips before biting on the lower one. He's not sure where the sudden boldness comes from, but he's also never felt anything like this before - maybe he's finally actually lost it, and the fucking actually caused brain damage. He'd be able to live with that, he thinks.

Jeongin stares at him utterly speechless and slack jawed for another minute, before his eyes grow darker and hooded. Minho gulps at the way Jeongin clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring slightly as he inhales deeply, and that’s all the warning Minho gets before he’s being unceremoniously manhandled, pinned flush on his back. Jeongin is quick to slide in between his spread legs, growling against the side of his neck, his teeth grazing along his pulse point, making him shiver. Minho groans when he feels Jeongin’s dick, quickly thickening once more, rubbing against his own already hard one, and the thought of Jeongin wanting him so badly sends a thrill through him, making his stomach clench. He wraps his legs snuggly around Jeongin’s hips, sighing as their lips find each other once more. He has a feeling they’re not going to get much sleep tonight. He can live with that too. That’s why coffee exists.

Minho closes the fridge with a bump of his hips, transferring the cream puffs from the tray in his hands onto a waiting plate. He twirls around and grabs a couple of mugs from the overhead cabinet before shuffling over to the coffeemaker to the beat of the song blasting loudly from the little speaker by the entrance. He sways his hips to the beat, waiting for the little machine to do its thing when he feels a pair of strong, slightly moist, arms circle around his waist, pulling him flush against a solid torso.

“Yah, you’re getting my shirt all wet!” Despite his complaints, Minho makes no actual move to pull away, and his tone has no actual bite to it. He lets Jeongin press tighter against him with a content sigh, maybe even wiggling his ass further back, grinning at the way Jeongin’s breath hitches at the movement, but that’s just him dancing to the music, nothing more. Jeongin’s arms tighten around him, making it a little harder to breathe, and when Jeongin leans in to nose at the side of his neck, the neckline of his shirt gaping thanks to a certain someone, a waft of shampoo reaches Minho’s nostrils. He realizes with a start that Jeongin used his vanilla scented one, rather than his own. The way Minho’s heart starts beating faster because of it, he’ll have to unpack at a later time. Jeongin’s lips on his neck and the feel of Jeongin twitching against his boxer clad backside, is making it a little hard to think at the moment.

“Mmm…” Minho moans as he leans his head back onto Jeongin’s shoulder, arching his back slightly.

The music abruptly stopping makes them both whip their heads to the side and freeze in place.

Yongbok stands rooted to the spot, hand still on the speaker where he paused the music, staring between the two of them with eyes the size of dinner plates. A sense of déjà vu washes over Minho, and he has to cover his mouth to stop the laughter threatening to spill forth.

“Good morning?” Yongbok’s voice comes out like a nervous little laugh, obviously trying to process the situation, his eyes flicking rapidly too and fro between Minho and Jeongin. Minho feels Jeongin squirming against his back, and he strokes the arms still wrapped around his waist in comfort.

“Cream puff?” Minho offers the plate of baked goods to Yongbok, resisting the urge to smile at the feel of Jeongin pressing his face into the back of Minho’s neck to stifle his own laughter.