Chapter Text
“What’re you doing here? Don’t you have a shoot?” Taemin was beside himself in delight.
“I moved it all around,” Minho returned.
“Whaaaa?” Taemin hugged him again, wanting to hold on tight but not wanting to mess up his makeup.
“This is great. You look great.” Minho was admiring his costume, looking him up and down.
They held hands briefly, but it was enough for Taemin to feel that much more optimistic and uplifted. The show was destined to be extra special now, and he was ecstatic.
The screams resounded as Taemin stretched his fingers into a heart. Stage lights obscured his view slightly, but he could still see him. The glasses, the hat, the funny expression on his face—Minho was there in the stands, pointing and smiling and throwing hearts at him as screams engulfed them. Taemin felt warm all over, knowing he was beaming ear to ear, and he didn’t care. It was nice to feel this happy—to feel this warm.
Minho had shown up seemingly out of nowhere. One minute Taemin was checking himself in the mirror as he prepared for the opening number, the next Minho was there in the room smiling, laughing, and holding out his arms. He could barely believe it. Now, as he gave Minho one last look before carrying on with the show—he had already made the biggest fuss he could, sitting down on the stage and coercing Minho into dancing—Taemin couldn’t tear the smile off his face. Minho was a good senior; despite everything, he would always be his Hyung.
That night, performing nearly felt like floating. Even though it was always like a dream when there was nothing but the stage to think about, just knowing he wasn’t alone made a noticeable difference. And he knew it was silly to think he could be alone in a stadium filled with thousands—fans, dancers, crews, managers. But it was different knowing one of the people he was closest to was there. That this person had gone far out of his way to be there.
After the performance ended, Taemin was relieved his body didn’t trouble him like the previous night, when he had barely been able to move after. His legs had felt like lead. Now he was exhausted but still buoyant as dancers and crew greeted him while he headed toward the dressing room. This was when he got to close the door to all the cameras and extraneous people. Not that he didn’t appreciate everyone who worked hard or watched the concert, but there came a point in the day for privacy—when he could sit a little unguarded and unworried about being camera-perfect.
As he finished taking the hand of each supporting dancer to show his gratitude, he saw his manager waiting by the door of the dressing room. The man looked as tired as he felt and not as jubilant, but Euisoo was a man of few words as it was. The day would be over soon; most nights, Euisoo would drive him back to the hotel and ensure he was settled before turning in himself. And Taemin would be left in the quiet of the hotel, wondering how things could be so still when his day was filled with so much life. Sometimes the contrast was too much to bear. And because of that, he never minded staff coming and going through his suite.
Euisoo said nothing as he waved Taemin through the doorway then quickly shut the door behind them. The room was large and white and empty save for the two women he would hand his costume and jewelry to once he changed. There was a folding screen in the corner for modesty, but Taemin just sat for a minute, guzzling a bottle of water. Once sated, he asked whether there were guests he hadn’t yet seen he needed to receive out of politeness.
“No, no. Tomorrow though.”
Taemin nodded and emptied the bottle before something dawned on him. Wouldn’t Minho Hyung be coming back to see him?
“But what about—” he started before Euisoo’s phone rang, and he left the room.
It hadn’t occurred to him Minho wouldn’t come back to see him after the show. He always came back. All the members did and usually anyone from the company. And if they didn’t, they’d send apologies. A strange pang erupted in Taemin’s heart, but he shook it off immediately. It was enough that Minho came to the concert itself and greeted him before it started. The man had re-arranged his entire filming schedule to come that night; how or why he did was a mystery to Taemin, but his presence was gift enough. Minho probably had to fly home immediately to return to set. He was filming yet another drama.
It was quiet in the dressing room as the two stylists chattered in whispers while crouched over a phone, politely waiting for their turn to work. Taemin didn’t know where his phone was. His only guess was that Euisoo had it, but if the man didn’t, he couldn’t begin to guess where it might be. It didn’t matter. There’d just be a message from Minho with apologies.
Slowly, he started wiping his makeup off and eyeing himself in the mirror. The remnants of the broad smile from earlier in the evening were still there, and that pleased him. He liked seeing himself like this. Sweaty, messy but happy.
Soon, he moved to change behind the screen and handed everything to the stylists waiting patiently. In turn, they handed him fresh clothes—a simple black t-shirt and light-wash jeans. Suddenly, he realized he had done everything backward.
“What am I doing? I need to shower.”
He looked at the stylists who just giggled before running off to find him a robe.
Once covered, he strolled into the dressing room shower and locked the door. There was no rush tonight. There was no one waiting for him.
The hot water and steam worked on his aching muscles as he kept his thoughts on the next night. The performance would be filmed for Blu-ray, and as used to that as he was, it was one extra thing to avoid dwelling on. People were always filming him, and it was worse at broadcasting studios because the camera could be less than a foot away as he moved, whereas here there would be drones and cameras with powerful lenses set back from the stage. He could just pretend it wasn’t happening, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t the last night. He’d need to say something meaningful tomorrow evening; that was if he could get his words out.
Taemin shook the thoughts away and turned off the shower. He’d lost track of how long he’d been standing under the water with his eyes shut. The robe the stylists had given him was white terry and a little too short. If he’d been smart, he would have brought his clothes with him to change in the bathroom, but he wasn’t thinking that far ahead.
As he cracked the door open and stepped through the steam encircling him, a distinct voice bellowed out.
“Yah, no decency for people who are waiting.”
It was Minho.
Taemin couldn’t help but smile as he saw the annoyed look on his face. He was standing near the stylists, looking at something on one of their phones. Whatever was on there must have been enthralling. Beaming again but a little sheepish, Taemin quickly dressed behind the folding screen. “I didn’t realize you were waiting.”
“Why wouldn’t I be waiting? Came all this way,” Minho said casually as he smiled along with the stylists into the phone.
And Taemin liked just how nonchalantly he said it, as though he never should have thought otherwise in the first place. “What’s so interesting?”
“Just you,” Minho said, not even looking up. The stylists giggled. It must have been a video from the show already posted online.
Speaking in Japanese, Taemin asked the stylists what video they were watching. They shared that it was the moment he announced Minho as a guest, and suddenly Taemin felt a little blushed. Why would they be watching that?
“Cute,” was all Minho said.
“Taemin-san, your rings,” one of the stylists said. She was pointing to his hands and then holding out her own. Remembering he’d forgotten to take them off even before showering, he placed them in her hand with a smile. With that, the women packed everything away and left with the clothes requiring cleaning.
Suddenly, he and Minho were alone. All Taemin wanted to do was thank him for coming sincerely. Not in front of anyone. Not for the cameras. But here alone where Minho could understand how much it meant to him. Just as he was about to, Minho spoke first.
“Tomorrow is the last day.”
Taemin nodded, trying not to look like he meant to speak first.
“Are you ready for that?”
“No,” Taemin replied, nearly laughing. It was rare to be happy a tour was ending. It was always somewhere between bittersweet and heart-breaking.
“Ah, well,” Minho started before he was interrupted by the dressing room’s door swinging open.
“Taemin-ssi, there’s one person here to greet you. He didn’t make himself known before.” There was a funny tone to Euisoo’s voice that almost made Taemin apprehensive. He signaled whoever it was could come in but when he saw who it was, he grinned stupidly.
“Why is no one back here? Have you gone down in popularity?” It was Heechul-Hyung.
Minho laughed then immediately asked him why he hadn’t visited before the show.
“I was late,” he admitted. “The fans in my row were not happy.”
“You don’t tell anyone you’re coming, and you can’t even show up on time?” Taemin chided him.
Euisoo admitted he’d been on the list for attendance that night, but when he hadn’t shown up before, he figured something came up.
“This didn’t feel like a run-of-the-mill k-pop concert. It felt like the show of some world-class artist,” Heechul said. Taemin could tell he was speaking sincerely.
“Stop it, Hyung,” was all Taemin said, smiling. Part of him wanted to tell Heechul he got it wrong—that k-pop and world-class were synonymous.
“What are you doing now, Hyung?” Minho asked.
Taemin noticed the interest in his eyes. Seeing that Minho had stuck around, he was certain they would eat together and chat, but now that Heechul-Hyung had arrived, it would be rude not to invite him. A funny feeling rippled through Taemin’s chest, almost as though he resented Heechul for suddenly showing up. Unhappy he could even think such a thing, he ignored it.
“We’ll probably go eat now, if you’d like to join us,” Taemin started.
Heechul looked at him for a moment, then flashed his eyes toward Minho.
“No, no, I have somewhere to be and someone to be with. I just couldn’t leave without telling you how great it was.”
“Someone to be with?” Taemin said, wistful.
“I didn’t say that,” Heechul smirked, bringing Taemin into a close hug. “If anyone asks, we all had dinner together.”
Taemin knew Heechul wasn’t joking, and he had no objections either. It was usual to fib for one another, but something caught him off guard. It was almost as if something told him this wasn’t just for Heechul’s sake.
Soon his hyung departed, and Taemin and Minho were left in the dressing room with a tired Euisoo wondering where they’d like to go. The surprise visit called for a nice dinner, and his manager offered to book private dining wherever they wished. Except, the last thing Taemin wanted was to eat out or be around more people, even if they were technically sequestered. What he wanted was the hotel, but his conscience was tugging at him.
It would be him, Euisoo, and Minho. On paper, that wasn’t a problem. And on paper, that included Heechul, too. There was just a nagging feeling caught in his chest, and he often felt things long before he understood them, which made situations like this even more difficult. Yet, what exactly was this situation?
“Taemin-ah, what do you want to do?” Minho asked. It felt like a loaded question, and Taemin wanted to chastise himself for feeling that way. Minho had freed up his precious time to come. There was no need to be pensive. What he wanted was to honor his hyung for coming to visit, which meant going somewhere impressive, eating well, and treating him. His selfish streak cried out for the hotel, still wanting to order takeout and sit comfortably on the couch with Minho like they used to do as kids back home. Except those days ended long ago.
“We should go out,” Taemin said, his broad, bubbly smile from earlier returning in earnest. “I can buy you Kobe beef steak.”
Euisoo chuckled, but Minho’s face changed. He was doing that thing where he looked deep into his eyes, trying to gauge what Taemin was really thinking and feeling. Usually, Taemin would just close his eyes or turn away, but now he selfishly hoped it worked.
A moment of quiet passed, then Minho said, “We can order steak at the hotel. You need your rest for tomorrow.”
Taemin stifled a sigh in relief. “At least let me buy it,” he gently pleaded.
Minho just grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it. There was no telling if that was a yes or a no. Warmth radiated out from where Minho’s hand massaged, and it felt so reassuring he could feel his tension draining out.
As Taemin grabbed his bag, he noticed Euisoo furiously texting in the corner. Without looking up, the man said, “I will walk you to the car, but manager Hyuk will take you back to the hotel.”
Taemin was stunned. Euisoo never backed out of duties. “Did something happen?”
“No, no…” Euisoo trailed off and sent another text. Taemin was about to ask again when Minho placed a hand on his chest to stop him.
“It’s okay, we can walk out to the car.”
At that Euisoo stood and shook his head, insisting he walk them out himself. Taemin worried for Euisoo but Minho’s face suggested he drop it.
A large SUV waited for them near the private entrance to the concert hall. The new leather scent hit as they sat down in single seats, one row behind the driver. As they pulled away from the venue, the car ride was silent for the first few minutes. The only thing Taemin could think about was Euisoo, and he knew that the first words that came out of his mouth would start an argument. Yet he couldn’t stop himself.
“Why did you stop me from asking Euisoo what was wrong?”
Minho sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Because it’s not our business.”
“Our business? He knows all my business. He’s the person I’m with most.” It came out a little more pointed than he had intended, and Taemin could see the faint hurt in Minho’s eyes.
“It doesn’t work like that, Taemin-ah. He deserves privacy.”
Taemin just sighed. There was no use carrying on an argument when they should have been enjoying the moment. It was then the realization struck Taemin. No Euisoo meant no Euisoo at dinner. The two of them would be alone at the hotel. Apprehension spread through Taemin as he considered what could happen. He had to do the right thing and honor Minho for coming all this way for him. Anything beyond that was a bad idea.
“So, you want steak?” Minho asked.
“I want something nice for you. Whatever you want…”
“Kobe beef is nice.”
“It is,” Taemin returned. They were looking into each other’s eyes again. And Taemin knew then it would be nearly impossible to control whatever was about to happen.
*
At the hotel, Taemin tried to make Minho as comfortable as possible.
“Do you want to freshen up at all? The shower’s through there.”
“I had time before I came to the show.”
“Here?”
“I got a room a couple of floors down. One of the assistants told me where you were staying. Though I could have guessed.”
Minho was smiling as they both looked over the expanse of the suite. It was nothing overtly luxurious—beiges and browns and ordinary couches in front of a simple flatscreen—but it was bigger than what they were used to while on tour as a group.
“I see this is how the pride of SM gets treated.”
The reason they used a suite was that the staff used it throughout the day for meetings and work. Sometimes it felt high traffic, but he liked that. It was better than the quiet. “This is just… practical.”
“Yeah, sure it is,” Minho laughed.
“Here,” Taemin shoved the room service menu into Minho’s hands. “Why don’t you order for us?”
Minho nodded, then looked reticent as Taemin sat on the couch and smushed a pillow into his lap. His eyes fluttered closed for a minute before he refocused.
“You’re tired. I should let you rest.”
“What? No. We need to order enough so it looks like Heechul-Hyung was with us.”
“Taeminnie, be honest.”
Minho sat beside him on the edge of the sofa, staring. It was too intense, so Taemin averted his gaze. “I’m fine. Can’t we just eat?”
Minho looked over the menu, so Taemin took that as a yes. Soon, Minho was ordering a miniature feast in careful Japanese. Taemin knew he should have offered to make the call, but it was endearing watching the attention Minho put into it. That was him, though. The things he cared about got an absurd level of attention.
As he finished the order, the last item Minho requested gave him pause. “Whiskey?”
“You like Japanese whiskey,” Minho said as though it were nothing.
“There’s some in there.” Taemin pointed to the cabinet above the minibar.
“This one’ll be better.”
Taemin just nodded. He wasn’t so into bests and luxuries, and Minho wasn’t exactly either, but he did have high standards, especially when he was leveling his absurd attention at something or someone. Taemin nearly gulped at the thought. Was this… what was this?
Suddenly, Taemin was standing up by the cabinet-come-bar, nervously rummaging. “Can’t I make you a drink while we wait? There’s ice here somewhere.” He grabbed the whiskey bottle and two tumblers before finding a tray of cold whiskey stones in the fridge. There was a slight shake in his hands as he dumped the stones in each glass.
“Taemin-ah, don’t open that bottle too.”
“It’s not an issue,” he returned in a soft but firm voice, turning around to catch Minho’s eyes. The voice surprised him; it was one he hadn’t used in years. Well, that was a lie. It was more like six months, but he wasn’t recognizing the events of six months ago quite yet.
“Here.” His slender hand brought the tumbler to Minho with grace. He then sat next to him on the couch, clinking glasses without saying a word and taking a swig that was an entire mouthful.
Minho was eyeing him with suspicion, but Taemin didn’t want to give in to it. If Minho had something to say, he could say it. And he did.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to drink tonight?”
There are about five bad ideas brewing right now, Minho.
“It’s fine. I’m not a kid anymore.”
Minho nearly took the hastily laid bait, but quickly avoided it by commenting on how fine the whiskey was. After five minutes of chatter, Taemin suggested they watch clips from the show. And Minho was right about one thing; if he kept drinking, it would have an impact. There’s no way he could review things properly before bed.
Through twenty minutes of intense viewing, Minho kept his comments short, and Taemin failed to notice how Minho was observing him with a faint smile. When their concentration finally broke, Minho motioned to the sidebar, suggesting he click on one clip in particular. Suddenly, Taemin saw himself full-screen with a dopey smile calling out for Minho. He wanted to slam the laptop shut immediately as his cheeks tinged red, but he was saved by a knock at the door. The second Minho’s attention averted, he quietly closed the laptop and set it aside.
Two large trays of food were brought to the table in front of the couch. There was the option of a formal dining table, but Taemin waved it off. They didn’t need anything to make things more awkward. Once all the food was laid out on the table, Taemin could see Minho looking around for the laptop.
“I’m done. Let’s just watch something.”
Settling on something mildly funny on TV, the two ate side by side, devouring nearly everything within half an hour. The steak was sublime, the sashimi was superb and the takoyaki and udon were moreish. The feast left them both smiling and satiated for a good twenty minutes, after which anxiety seeped into Taemin again. There was something he needed to say but he didn’t know how to say it. Instead, he just looked at Minho, hoping their telepathy might work again.
“What’s wrong?” It didn’t.
“Nothing, I….” He shoved a dumpling in his mouth to cover the awkward.
“No, go on,” Minho laughed.
With his mouth half full, “Why did you come tonight?”
“What kinda question is that?”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Oh,” Minho returned. “It wasn’t about have to, exactly.”
“Exactly?” Taemin was puzzled.
“I rearranged things. It wasn’t a big deal.”
It almost felt like Taemin was missing something, but he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter, however. “It is a big deal.” He locked eyes with Minho then, wanting to be sure his friend could tell he was sincere.
“No one else could come, but you came, even though you shouldn’t have been able to come at all. And you chose to come… that means a lot to me.” Feeling the embarrassment of his honesty, he reached out for the whiskey room service brought and refilled his glass. As he sipped it, Minho still hadn’t said anything, and the room was beginning to feel tense.
“Won’t you get some flak for delaying filming?” Taemin asked. He was genuinely curious, and it was just enough of a subject change to air out the room.
“I worked it out,” was all Minho said. He was looking at him with eyes Taemin knew too well, slightly worried but terribly open. Like he was debating whether to spill all his thoughts and feelings onto the floor. Taemin hoped he wouldn’t because he didn’t know how to stop himself from tripping over them.
“Taemin-ah, are you okay?”
“Huh?” He felt his cheeks heat again, but he didn’t know why Minho was asking. Do I not look okay? He didn’t want his nerves to get to him, so he redirected their focus.
“The mochi are going to melt. Eat them ‘cause I can’t,” Taemin ordered. He pushed the plate of green tea mochi in front of Minho.
“And you think I can eat them?!” His voice was just a little too loud.
“Fine.” He picked up one mochi and gingerly bit off half before placing the remainder at Minho’s lips. For a moment, Minho just stared. Then he grabbed his wrist, pushing his hand away by mere inches so he could better mouth the half mochi off his fingertips. His lips and tongue connected with Taemin’s fingers momentarily, sending the finest jolts of electricity with them. Taemin just snatched his hand back, as though the jolts had hurt.
And this was the impossibility of the situation. Two friends who were as close as family but in reality ex-lovers with a world of pain between them. There was no right way to act or thing to say. It was all one step forward, five steps back; add in a fuck, and they couldn’t speak at ease for weeks. Sometimes months.
Minho picked up the remaining mochi and bit into it carefully. His wide eyes flitted to Taemin as he extended his hand. Was this some sort of tacit agreement?
Not one to back down even when confused, Taemin grabbed Minho’s wrist and slowly licked at the mochi. He licked out some of the filling before engulfing the mochi and a couple of Minho’s fingers in his mouth. It was a dirty move, but Taemin felt justified because, to him, Minho started it. It didn’t matter that he was ratcheting things up by several levels or that he was the one who forced a half-eaten mochi on the man in the first place.
Slowly, he pulled Minho’s fingers out of his mouth while sucking them clean, then pushed his hand back with force. “Happy?”
Minho’s eyes were fixed on him. “Why do you purposely make things so difficult?”
“Just drink,” was all Taemin said. He filled Minho’s tumbler again and refreshed the stones, then downed his own.
“Oop—” Taemin said as he stumbled backward upon standing. Minho caught his hips when he nearly toppled over him and slid his hands just a little further than necessary. Taemin grabbed them and squeezed, before pushing them off.
“Just let me pee.”
“TMI.”
“How is that TMI? You’ve seen me pee a thousand times.”
“Taemin-ah, never say that in front of anyone. It sounds wrong.”
Usually, he would blush at the effect of his own bluntness, but the liquor had dulled that. In the bathroom, Taemin couldn’t quite look himself in the eyes. It would have been recognizing what he was doing—knowing his guard was slipping and he was clumsily letting it fall on the ground to be trodden on. It was all something to deal with in the morning now. Except he wouldn’t need to because there would be too many other important things to consider. Perhaps this wasn’t such a big deal. Was the whiskey talking now?
When he returned, Minho was pouring himself another glass. It seemed he had downed what Taemin had poured him. Minho’s alcohol tolerance was much higher than his own, and even when he was drunk, he never seemed that drunk, which was irritating. If they kept drinking, he would be the only one to show it.
As Taemin walked across the room to the couch, there was a twinge in his left leg. Then his right. Suddenly, cramps overtook both legs and they gave out underneath him. He found himself falling flat on his back and groaning. He didn’t dare try to move.
Minho swore and rushed to his side.
“Not again,” Taemin bemoaned.
“You need rest. And you shouldn’t be drinking.”
“Okay, okay.” Taemin would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t wincing in pain.
“Put your arms around my neck,” Minho ordered.
He did as told and let himself go limp so it would be easier for Minho to hoist him up. Soon Minho had his hands on his behind and waist as he tried to reason where to take him.
“Just, back there.”
“So palatial I can’t even guess which one’s the bedroom.”
“Shut up.”
Standing without moving wasn’t horrible, but Taemin was certain that was because Minho was bearing most of his weight. This didn’t bode well for tomorrow, but a night of rest had to be enough. It always was in the past.
“Can you walk?”
“No.” Admittedly, Taemin didn’t want to even try.
Without any warning, Minho hoisted him up like he was carrying a toddler on his hip and set off for the bedroom. It was funny he could still do this after more than a decade, but then again, all Minho had done was build muscle and become perfectly toned in that time. Stop thinking.
As they pushed through the bedroom door, Minho switched on the light and sidled up to the bed. “Hold on.”
Taemin just nodded as Minho palmed a thigh with one hand and held the small of his back with another. Gingerly, he lowered them both down to the mattress. It was the easiest way to get him on the bed, but it wasn’t exactly painless. Taemin grimaced and swore, then let go of Minho’s neck. Suddenly, he found himself lying on his back staring up at Minho, who was now holding his thighs wide apart.
“Uhhh…” As funny as it was, Taemin could feel himself starting to blush.
“You need to scoot up so I can put your legs on the bed.”
Not putting much thought into it, Taemin started to wiggle himself backward on the mattress, but he was moving mere millimeters. Frustrated immediately at the lack of progress, Minho leaned back down and ordered him to put his arms around his neck once more. Minho lifted him but was forced to drop his legs so he could grab his waist.
“Ow, fuck! Why did you do that?”
Instinctively, Minho swept his hair back soothingly. “Sorry, couldn’t avoid it.”
Their eyes met as the pain dulled. Taemin’s legs were partly on the bed and Minho was wedged in between them, leaning over him. Taemin couldn’t wiggle away, and he should have asked Minho to get off him. All the man needed to do was get off him and swing his legs over the bed. But Taemin had no desire to say a word. Instead, he just looked up into Minho’s big saucer eyes, wondering what his friend would do.
Minho just kept looking him over while stroking his hair. It was akin to being pet, and it was relaxing Taemin tremendously. Just when he found himself humming in satisfaction, Minho danced his thumb over his lips, separating them ever so slightly. Their breathing became heavy, and Taemin couldn’t help chasing the touch of Minho’s thumb.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Minho asked, caressing his lower lip.
“Yeah…”
“Can I make it better?”
“I don’t care if it hurts.”
Those magic words made Minho grasp Taemin’s hair firmly and pull his head to the side so he could drag his teeth down his neck. They both groaned in satisfaction, knowing what was about to happen.
Minho pushed his hands up his shirt and kissed at his collarbones, and Taemin was trying to stifle his moans. It was too embarrassing to be this turned on already, but he felt like someone lost in the desert brought to an oasis. And he couldn’t move much without scorching pain, so it left him feeling vulnerable underneath him in a way he didn’t usually. It was overwhelming in a delicious way.
He became hungry for Minho’s lips as the man had kissed everywhere except there. Just when their lips would ghost one another, Minho would find a new place to plunder. Soon, Taemin was just too impatient.
“Kiss me now,” he breathed, aware of the need in his voice. Minho responded, but he was still withholding, kissing, and pulling at his top lip then his bottom. The need was growing, and Taemin knew he was teasing him purposefully until he broke.
Minho pulled away. He stroked Taemin’s thighs as he looked the boy on his back up and down.
“This hard and desperate already,” he chastised.
Minho was the only one he ever allowed to speak to him like this—the only one who made it feel bad in the right way. His hand was sliding over the most delicate area, careful not to make it feel too good. Taemin’s cheeks were crimson as he mounted a weak reply. “Please.”
“Please what?”
Minho was delighting in undoing Taemin’s pants with force. When he was pleased with his handiwork, he lowered himself over him again, grabbing his hair with gentle firmness.
“Say it.”
Taemin just moaned in complaint, unable to make the words come out easily.
“You can do it.” Minho kissed the side of his mouth.
“Please fuck me.” It was barely even a whisper, but Minho didn’t need more. He kissed him deeply, with his hands roaming everywhere. By the time Minho focused on his ass, Taemin was moaning loudly into his mouth. Minho was about to escalate things further when a woman’s voice broke their spell.
“Taemin-ssi, I—” the voice stopped as quickly as it started. It was Yumi. She was one of the personal assistants who came by at night to ensure everything was in order and there wasn’t anything he needed.
Taemin froze under Minho. His shirt was pushed up too far to look casual and his pants were clearly undone and wide open. Not to mention one Choi Minho was on top of him with hands in those very pants.
Minho looked into his eyes as if to say he was going to fix this, but Taemin just lay there, shocked by his own stupidity. He hadn’t thought of Yumi or any of the other assistants. If he was honest with himself, there had been nothing on his mind that night except Minho.
“Ah, Taemin-ah is injured,” Minho said, finding a modest way to remove his hands from his friend’s pants. Yumi had ducked out of the room rather quickly, but Minho was still trying his best. He pushed a pillow on top of Taemin and stood ready to find her, then realized he’d have to wait a minute.
Taemin was somehow amused that Minho was unable to leave the bedroom because he was hard and worried that someone from the company had just caught them. Everyone who worked for the company was under strict NDAs. Neither Yumi, nor he, nor anyone could discuss anything that happened in private. But the idea of someone he worked with seeing him like this—that was a problem. He just wasn’t sure how big of a problem.
Once Minho’s body had settled, he cautiously left the bedroom to find the young woman. And there she was, sitting on the couch biting her nails. She was clearly distraught.
“I’m staying with Taemin tonight. He’s unwell and needed help undressing.”
Yumi nodded her head.
“I’m sorry if we startled you.”
“No Minho-ssi, I’m sorry for coming unannounced. It’s just that Taemin-ssi is usually alone and forgets to take his supplements. Usually, Euisoo-nim asks me to come by, but when he didn’t tonight and Taemin-ssi didn’t answer any texts, I thought perhaps he forgot and didn’t want Taemin-ssi to go without what he needed.”
“Ah, I see. I will tell Euisoo what a good job you’re doing.”
Yumi’s eyes went wide.
“Are you sure we didn’t startle you too badly?” Minho asked. There was a part of him that almost believed the girl had seen nothing.
“No, please just make sure he takes his supplements.” Yumi stood and bowed, but Minho bowed deeper to show his apologies.
Minho walked her to the door and smiled as she left. As soon as the door closed, he locked and bolted it so there would be no more surprises. He stalked back to the bedroom.
“Taemin-ah! How many people have key cards for this room?”
Taemin was still laying there in the same position half undressed. “About ten.”
“Ten?” Minho was half laughing, half yelling. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Or to lock the door?”
There was no point in replying because the answer was obvious.
“Can you hoist my legs onto the bed, please?” Exhaustion had found its way to his voice. Tenderly, Minho brought his legs up so he was lying straight, but it was clear how excruciating it was.
“We should probably put you to bed properly,” Minho mused. He looked a little defeated.
“Can you… can you get all the stuff that’s sitting on the bathroom counter? That’s what Yumi was supposed to bring in.”
Minho nodded with a smile. Taemin could only guess he was thinking the same as him—Yumi saved them from making a terrible mistake, considering a month of performances was less than two weeks away.