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“Seokminnie, please just fuckin’… look at my dick and tell me if it looks weird.”
He should preface: this isn’t a normal situation for Lee Seokmin to be involved in. Yes, he’s been stuck with the same twelve boys through their formative years, yes he’s had a couple of awkward close encounters with a few genitalia and yes, fine he can admit, if pressed, that he’s had a few… less than PG dreams in his time with his members. Sue him, he doesn’t have much material to go off.
He’s never been asked by a member to make direct and deliberate eye contact with their dick though. For some reason, it seems fitting that Mingyu would be the one asking him to do this.
“God,” Seokmin whines, because honestly Mingyu just brings that out of him like nobody else, “couldn’t you ask literally anyone else?”
Mingyu’s in his room, where he’d snuck in moments before under the pretense of having brought leftovers for Seokmin which was an absolutely filthy lie that he will be paying for at some point. He’s leaned up against the door where he’d quietly closed it behind himself, and his clumsy hands are twisting in the hem of his t-shirt. Round and round, wrapping his fingertips then unwrapping them again.
“You’ll stretch it, stop,” Seokmin clucks at him, grasping for something to say.
“We’re the same age,” Mingyu admits pitifully, and Seokmin softens just a little.
“What about Minghao?”
Mingyu’s nose immediately scrunches, his face always the most open of books, “Too judge-y. Even if it was the perfect dick, he’d find something wrong with it.”
“But you’re not sure if it is the perfect dick?”
Mingyu makes a strangled sort of noise, which always spurs Seokmin on, without fail.
“Do you want it to be the perfect dick?”
Mingyu shrugs, but his shoulders look mighty heavy, “I mean, I just don’t want it to be… like… I don’t wanna like… getitout and like… be laughed at or whatever.”
Ah, Seokmin thinks, as the root of all of this makes itself abundantly clear. It had been a couple of weeks back, they’d all stumbled off the stage, flushed with the newness of it all, still half-blind from the lights: Seokmin remembers blinking and seeing nothing but pure white for about half an hour. They’d made it back to their green room, all in various states of blasé undress when Jeonghan had suddenly piped up from nowhere,
“Oh- ho, Kim Mingyu!”
Seokmin had turned to find an absolutely scarlet Mingyu, hands cupped over himself as the room burst into… what Seokmin would bet his bottom won to be good-natured, light-hearted laughter but, ah, he can see how maybe that was, potentially, a slightly traumatic experience for his bandmate.
“So you got hard after a performance,” Seokmin reasons, “that’s why they give us the cup things… it’s adrenaline and shit. You’re not the first or-“
“It’s not that,” Mingyu whines, his cheeks reddening again betraying the fact that it definitely is that, “just. Please?”
Seokmin sighs, sitting up properly on the bed and motioning Mingyu into the room properly. It’s not like Mingyu’s asking him to… touch it or anything, right? Wait, is he?
“You just want me to look at it, right?” he double checks as Mingyu comes to stand and be an anxious mess a little bit closer to him.
“I mean, yeah, I guess. You don’t gotta like… touch it or anything, no homo.”
Seokmin snorts, rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He doesn’t think there’s anything to worry about, but then again, he’s never really given the scenario of him staring at his best friend’s dick with intention and purpose any thought before either. So, there’s that.
“What exactly am I looking for?”
“I don’t know, man!” Mingyu wails, overdramatic as always, it’s what gels them so well together, the way they spark against one another, “like, tell me if it’s a weird shape or something?”
“I don’t really have many examples to go off, Mingyu-yah.”
“We could-“
“We’re not comparing dicks.”
“Right.”
Seokmin sighs, “Surely you’d know if your dick was a weird shape, you spend enough time with it.”
Mingyu rolls his eyes, lips thinning into that prissy little line of his, “I’ve been kinda too scared to look at it in case there’s something weird about it now that I hadn’t noticed before? And like, not saying I’ve looked but like, every dick I’ve seen-“
“I’m assuming that you’re talking about our hyungs right now?”
Mingyu nods before continuing, fully sincere and honest, “They just… I don’t know, look nice?”
Seokmin cocks his head, “They look… nice?”
“Yeah.”
“Hyungs’ dicks?”
“Stop,” Mingyu whines again, “I just mean they’re not like… ugly.”
“Is yours?”
“I don’t know!” Mingyu explodes, arms up over his head, “That’s why the fuck I’m here, dipshit.”
“Well, if you’re gonna call me names, I’m not going to help,” Seokmin says, fully serious, arms crossed over his chest.
“Sorry, sorry,” Mingyu says, softening and simmering down as quickly as he’d boiled over, “Can we just… please can you help? I’ll do anything.”
“Like m-“
“Except massage your fuckin’ gross feet, Seokmin, I swear to God.”
“Well, that’s not ‘anything’ then, is it?” Seokmin retorts, even though he’s already made up his mind. Like it or lump it, Kim Mingyu is his best friend, and dammit, if he needs Seokmin to look at his dick and give him the all-clear, then… so help him, he’ll do it.
Mingyu’s mouth has gotten tight again, dimples popping in the outer corners, eyebrows carving deep worry on his handsome face. Seokmin loses steam.
“Alright,” he sighs, motioning Mingyu to get on with it already, which he does almost immediately, before stopping, hands hovering above his own waistband.
“Wait, promise you won’t laugh?”
“I’m not going to laugh at you, Mingyu-yah.”
He says it carefully, a little softer than he might normally. His best friend’s about to get half-naked in front of him, so he reasons this probably isn’t the time for barbed words and jokes at his expense.
Mingyu seems to appreciate it, if the tips of his pink ears are anything to go by.
Still, he looks nervous as he begins to shimmy his way out of his sweatpants. Just far enough that they cage his thighs together.
“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna do it now,” Mingyu says, needlessly, like he does when he’s especially nervous: filling the silence. Seokmin smiles in, what he hopes is, an encouraging sort of way.
Then Mingyu’s finally situated and blushing profusely as his eyes dart about Seokmin’s room. His fingers are worrying the hem of his t-shirt again. Seokmin knows a cue when he sees one.
And. Well. There’s Mingyu’s dick. It’s-
“What exactly am I meant to be looking for again?” he asks. Because honestly? He doesn’t know any other way to say: “It’s definitely a dick, if that makes you feel better?”
Mingyu groans, “This was the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“I mean,” Seokmin continues, trying to scrutinise more, but it’s – “It’s a flaccid dick, Mingyu-yah-“
“Well yeah, I’m in here with you, obviously I’m not gonna be… y’know.”
Seokmin hates that he’s about to say what he’s going to say but, it’s kind of the truth, “I feel like any weirdness isn’t going to show when it’s… you know… like this.”
Mingyu’s mouth draws into a displeased line, “You’re right.”
Mingyu’s face being so open is a good thing: you can tell the moment you’ve hurt his feelings or the moment a joke finally dawns on him. And on this occasion, Seokmin can see the moment the lightbulb goes off in Mingyu’s mind and only just manages to catch his wrist before he can reach for himself.
“You’re not about to start jerking off in front of me.”
“God, just to get it like… I’m not gonna… finish-“
“I need you to stop, Mingyu, I’m serious-“
“You said get it hard!”
“I didn’t tell you to jerk off in front of me, dude!”
Mingyu pulls up his pants, thank god, running a huff-y hand through his hair like this is a dire situation he needs to figure out immediately. Which, Seokmin would like to stress, it really isn’t.
“What if I go jerk off and send you a picture?” Mingyu says, casually, like he just suggested they go for a walk down the Han.
“Funnily enough, I don’t want you to send me a dick pic.”
Seokmin watches the fight drain out of Mingyu’s body, the way he curls in on himself a little, and he sighs, resigned to loving this idiot despite the trauma this whole evening has caused. He reaches for Mingyu’s wrist and tugs him to sit down.
“It didn’t look weird to me, from what I saw,” he says, very seriously, because even though he wants to laugh at how gravely they’re talking about a penis right now, he can tell this means a lot to Mingyu. He doesn’t want to accidentally ruin his self-esteem forever… he’s meant to be an idol, for fuck’s sake.
“You’re sure?”
Seokmin shrugs, “I don’t make a habit of looking at many dicks, so I’m not exactly the expert? But… it’s not growing weird shit or like… covered in warts or anything.”
“Okay,” Mingyu nods, seriously, pulling at his fingers before turning to Seokmin, “Thanks for checking.”
Of all the things Seokmin had imagined might happen to him since he became a trainee and debuted, being thanked for looking at a dick wasn’t anywhere near his radar. Still, he claps his pal on the shoulder, before pulling him in for a side hug and says, “No worries, Mingyu-yah. Hope it helped.”
“Yeah,” Mingyu sighs, and then, “Wanna watch Iron Man?”
Seokmin reasons that even though it’s kind of late, and he had been hoping to get a good night’s sleep tonight, he and Mingyu have just been through… something. And Mingyu probably doesn’t want to be left to his own thoughts just yet. Seokmin can relate. He fears if he closes his eyes now, all he’ll see is Mingyu’s anxious hands twisting in his own shirt, hear the unsure quiver of his voice, the pink of his cheeks… god-
“Sure,” he smiles, easier than it feels, as he scoots up the bed.
Something has definitely shifted. Permanently. Just a little, but enough to make a noticeable difference.
For one, he barely registers Tony Stark get captured in the desert, because for some unfounded, ludicrous reason, Seokmin is preoccupied with the memory of Mingyu’s dick.
He really doesn’t want to think about it, honestly, but… he can admit it looked. Nice. He snorts inwardly at himself. Kinda plump. Golden like the rest of him.
Apart from the aforementioned, less than PG dreams he may have awoken from hard and more than a little confused, Seokmin can’t say he’s really ever given the male form much thought.
He’s kind of been too busy with everything else to give any forms much thought.
But… yeah, okay, in the privacy of his own mind, he can admit that Mingyu’s body is pleasing to look at. And maybe, in an even more secluded, shadow-y part, he can admit he wouldn’t mind seeing it again. Not that he will, not on purpose anyway, and not in the context he’s currently shamefully coveting. He can keep a secret with himself. He’s kept plenty of them.
It’s around half an hour into this alarming series of thoughts that soft snoring shocks him back into the room. Mingyu’s curled in on himself: Seokmin’s always struck with fondness at how small he can fold himself, for someone so tall. Mingyu’s like that though, a study of opposites. Big and gentle. Bold and sensitive. Handsome and dorky. Sport-y but with little to no hand-eye coordination. His best friend and also the person who pushes his buttons the most of anyone he’s ever met.
Seokmin shuts off his laptop, tucking the covers more firmly around Mingyu’s shoulders before he leans over to switch off his lamp, trying his best to banish any memories of Mingyu’s body from his mind as he closes his eyes.
It feels like he’s had his eyes closed for a few moments at best, but when he’s shaken awake, the whole dorm is quiet as the grave, the air settling into that early-hours hush that tells him it’s far, far too early for Mingyu to be aggressively shaking his shoulder right now.
“What?” he grumbles into his pillow, wriggling himself free of Mingyu’s clumsy paw.
“Seokmin-ah, you remember earlier… when-”
“When you exposed more of yourself to me than was strictly necessary for no reason at all? Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten, as much as I want to.”
“You said it’d be easier to see if anything was weird with it-“
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re really waking me up right now because you got a boner?”
“Just take a peek!” Mingyu argues, lisp more pronounced now he’s relaxed and sleepy, in trusted company, “It’s already flagging the more you talk.”
“I can’t believe this,” Seokmin says, even though he’s already rolling over to flick his lamp back on, a strange fluttering in his chest that he’s absolutely not addressing, nor linking to the fact that he’s seconds from seeing Mingyu’s dick again.
Because that would be ridiculous.
Mingyu’s hair is all up on end, pillow lines carved into his sleep-puffy cheek, but his eyes are strangely alert, hands hovering, for the second time that night, over his own waistband. Seokmin can already see the tenting in the front and, strike him down, he’s a little curious.
“Hurry up,” he mutters around a sigh, and just like that, he’s staring at Mingyu’s dick all over again.
It feels different though, like this. Obviously. The hush of the night, the darkness of the room, lit intimately by the bedside lamp, the fact that Mingyu’s hard, head a little dewy, glinting in the light.
It doesn’t look weird to him at all. In fact, the only thing he’d call ‘weird’ is the feeling the sight stokes in his chest. He doesn’t think too hard about it when he coaxes Mingyu onto his back, throwing back the covers to his golden thighs to take a better look.
Mingyu goes willingly where Seokmin puts him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing. Seokmin should probably say something. Anything.
The air is so heavy, he’s sweating a little.
“Just to get a better look,” he justifies quietly, voice suddenly far thicker than it’s ever been when directed at Mingyu, who silently bobs his head, like any of this makes sense. Seokmin tingles down to his toes as he looks again.
It’s thick. Much thicker than his own, though he doesn’t think Mingyu’s necessarily longer. It’s-- God, he’s going to hell, but it’s a really nice dick.
He wonders, with a suspicious kick from his pants, if his fingers could close around it.
Before he can even register what he’s doing, he’s reaching out to touch. Mingyu’s gasp shocks him back to the room, thick fingers wrapping delicately around Seokmin’s wrist.
“Sorry,” Seokmin immediately rushes, “Sorry I… god, I don’t know-“
“Do you want to touch me?” Mingyu asks quietly, carefully, nothing more than a whisper. Seokmin’s mouth snaps shut. Does he?
“Because I’m okay with it. I… if you want to,” Mingyu continues, eyes focused at Seokmin’s chest.
“I kinda want to,” Seokmin whispers back, fingers curling with his toes. He burns hot with shame. He’s never looked at this particular part of him too closely, and the vast majority of him is still turned away, trying to slam the door closed on it. Right now, he feels it like a physical entity, breathing down his neck, watching him stare at Mingyu’s body beneath him. Coaxing him to do it. To take what he wants.
“It’s okay,” Mingyu says, like he can feel it, the presence of Seokmin’s shame. He probably can, “It’s okay, Seokmin-ah. I won’t tell anyone.”
Seokmin’s breath shakes when he finally lets it go, and he lets Mingyu’s hand pull at his wrist until his fingers are resting on the molten heat between Mingyu’s legs.
“Shit,” Seokmin exhales like he’s been punched, as Mingyu’s cock jumps beneath his fingers, almost like it’s trying to get into his hand all the faster. He obliges, carefully, oh so gently wrapping his fingers around it. God, his thumb and middle finger just barely meet. Thick.
Mingyu whimpers quietly above him, hips making little movements, pushing himself closer to Seokmin’s touch.
Seokmin’s mesmerised. And hard. Suddenly so terribly hard he feels a little woozy.
“Can I,” Mingyu whispers, fingers curling on top of his own thighs, “Can I… see you too? Touch you too?”
Seokmin feels drunk on the moment, on the air in that dark little room. He doesn’t think twice before moving to properly rid Mingyu of his sweatpants, leaving them dangling on one leg as he works his own pyjama pants down over his knees and settling between Mingyu’s legs that spread thoughtlessly for him.
Mingyu’s hand is warm when he reaches to trace the shape of Seokmin through his underwear. There’s a curiously dopey smile on his face as he meets Seokmin’s gaze, “Feels crazy.”
Seokmin laughs, a little breathless as he pulls himself out, before returning his touch to Mingyu’s cock like it’s magnetised. He closes his fingers around it a little more confidently this time, spurred on by Mingyu’s own curious touches to his shaft.
“Yours looks nice too,” Mingyu says quietly, closing his fingers around Seokmin and pumping slow, curious, like he’s exploring. Seokmin begins to shake.
“I think we’re about the same size,” Mingyu continues, filling the silence again, and Seokmin chooses to focus on his hand on Mingyu’s cock in the hopes he can shut him up, just for a bit. Because Mingyu talks too much, and his words are setting a bonfire inside him. He’s terrified of burning up.
Mingyu barely bites back the moan he lets loose when Seokmin begins to pump at him, cataloguing the velvet hardness of him, the charming curve, the sloppiness he finds at the top and smooths back down the shaft on his down-stroke.
Much like his emotionally-open face, Mingyu’s voice is also giving away far too much in the dead of the dorm.
“Mingyu, shh, they’ll hear you,” he pleads quietly after another moan escapes from Mingyu’s parted lips.
“Feels good,” Mingyu whines, grounding his feet on the mattress to press more insistently into the cave of Seokmin’s fist.
Seokmin briefly considers plastering his free hand over Mingyu’s mouth to keep him quiet, but honestly, every time he’s done that in the past, all it’s earned him is Mingyu’s hot tongue wriggling against his palm until he’s too disgusted to keep it there.
Mingyu’s tongue in this context though feels a little different to consider.
He leans a little closer, fitting his hips against the give of Mingyu’s ass, delighting in the weight of Mingyu’s thighs closing around him, “You gotta be quiet, Mingyu, you’ll wake the others.”
“Stop making me feel good then,” Mingyu pouts, before closing his hand around Seokmin’s wrist, “but like, don’t stop. Not really. Please.”
Seokmin scoffs, “I won’t.”
They’re so close now, chest to chest, noses mere centimetres apart. He can see Mingyu’s pupils blown wide in the dark, mouth parted so sweetly as he tries his best to swallow back his sounds. Mingyu’s hand has sort of given up for now, warm fingers loosely curled about him, but Seokmin doesn’t mind that so much when Mingyu looks at him, deadly serious and whispers, “Kiss me?”
Seokmin has kissed a grand total of three people in his young life. Not a single one of them had been male. Or a friend, someone he knows like he knows himself. So, when he closes the distance without too much thought and takes Mingyu’s mouth for his own, he’s not really prepared for the feeling that threatens to drown him from the inside.
It feels familiar, despite being novel. Like Mingyu’s mouth is something he’s always known, the way his lips part for Seokmin so easy, so gently, is something innate. It’s immediately and alarmingly obvious to him: of course Mingyu’s mouth feels like this. Hasn’t it always?
Mingyu approaches kissing like he approaches everything: with naïve enthusiasm and a little too much spit. He’s as clumsy with it as his hands are with… everything, but it’s endearing, sweet. It’s addictive, Seokmin might even admit, as he presses a little deeper, grips at Mingyu’s cock a little tighter just to feel Mingyu’s mouth open against his again, swallowing his moan this time. He’s not truly convinced Mingyu’s any quieter like this, but god, it’s so much more intense. He grinds his cock against Mingyu’s skin: somewhere in the crease of his hip, bumping into his own fist.
Mingyu’s hand gives up entirely then, instead reaching to loop loosely about Seokmin’s shoulders, dragging him closer, hips ever more insistent, long, full thrusts into the curl of Seokmin’s fingers.
“I’ve got you,” Seokmin whispers against Mingyu’s lips as he begins to whimper and tremble against Seokmin’s sheets.
“Gonna come,” Mingyu whines, eyebrows furrowed, biting at Seokmin’s lower lip in an attempt to quiet himself, breathing heavy and fast.
“That’s it, Mingyu-yah, good boy,” Seokmin whispers, barely even aware of the words he says, but perfectly cognisant of the effect they have on Mingyu as he stills beneath his hands, buries his face in Seokmin’s neck and opens his mouth on a quiet cry. Their hands meet between them, hurriedly pushing up Mingyu’s T-shirt to his chin, before he spills molten hot between them, covering his tummy, his chest, Seokmin’s knuckles.
If it was meant to be a sobering moment, the moment where everything comes crashing back down around them, Mingyu seems determined to avoid it, as he scrambles to get his legs beneath him, switching their positions, his own cum smearing against Seokmin’s skin as their lips crash together again, uncoordinated and intoxicated. He pulls his t-shirt up and over his head, skin glistening in the half-light. He’s so beautiful, Seokmin thinks to himself.
“Can I… Seokmin-ah, do you want me to suck you off?”
Seokmin flails, alarmed, but Mingyu fixes him with that boyish grin of his, canines sharp and bewitching, “Soonyoungie-hyung taught me how.”
“We’re circling back round to that after,” Seokmin frowns as he winds his clean hand into Mingyu’s hair, thrilling as his own cum-covered hand closes around the base of his own cock. He pumps himself just once, spreading Mingyu’s cum over himself, a thought that should gross him out but in the current state of things just makes his toes curl with something like pleased possessiveness.
“I guess that’s a yes then,” Mingyu quips as he lowers his shoulders towards the bed and reaches, tongue-first, for the weeping head of Seokmin’s cock.
“You taste like me,” he muses, nonchalant, before he opens wide and sinks his mouth down, down, down.
It’s fair to say Seokmin’s not hugely sexually experienced: hardly really had the time for much more than his own hand and a couple of awkward, secretive fumbles pre-trainee days. He’s certainly never felt the burning heat of a mouth around his cock before, and he nearly folds in half at the electricity of it, biting at the back of his own hand.
Mingyu bobs his head leisurely, lips tight like a vice, unlike the looseness of his fingers earlier, now curled familiarly around the base, following the steady up-down of his mouth, tongue wreaking havoc against his weeping crown.
God, he’s gonna last two seconds.
Mingyu’s arms snake around his thighs, hook them over his shoulders and hold him tight as Seokmin quivers right out of his own skin, fingers shaking in Mingyu’s short hair.
He grips for dear life, earning a pleased rumble from Mingyu. He does it again, and watches Mingyu’s hips drive purposefully into the mattress. So he does it again. Watches Mingyu’s eyes scrunch closed, listens to his bone-deep groan. Pulls harder still and Mingyu’s teeth scrape, just-so against the underside of his cock.
“Oh fuck,” he all but squeaks in warning, “Mingyu-“
When Mingyu pulls off, he’s panting, lips swollen and red as he fists Seokmin’s spit-slick cock. Mingyu’s other hand curls in his shirt then, pushing clumsily upwards until Seokmin has the presence of mind to gather it between his teeth, like a bit to silence himself. His pleasured cries feel like swallowing a brick when he finally breaks, ears ringing, breath exploding from him as Mingyu catches his spend on his patient tongue.
“What the fuck,” Seokmin whispers, reaching forward to collect an errant drop before it ends up in Mingyu’s eye. He watches his best friend reach for that same hand, suck his cum-covered finger between his lips, eyes closing in some perverse sort of bliss. Seokmin shivers.
“Holy shit,” Mingyu breathes around a giggle.
Seokmin is boneless with glee, watching the impending shame like one might watch a storm on the horizon: he acknowledges it’ll probably be here by morning, but for now, Mingyu’s body is warm and heavy, his skin smooth as he presses himself as close to Seokmin as he possibly can.
“We should clean up,” Seokmin offers half-heartedly, feeling slippery and filthy and inwardly delighted about it.
Mingyu nods, similarly uncommitted, sleepy, “In a bit. Let me hold you first.”
Seokmin nearly falls asleep again in the comfort of Mingyu’s embrace, so all-encompassing and comforting, like a home in and of itself. The starting line of this whole journey brings him back to the present with a delirious laugh. Snort for added effect, he’s not even embarrassed about it now.
“What?” Mingyu says, nosing casually at his collarbone.
“For the record?” Seokmin says around a laugh as he wraps his arms more firmly about Mingyu’s shoulders, letting himself delight in the feeling of Mingyu snuggling all the closer, fitting himself snugly in the space Seokmin holds for him, “Absolutely nothing wrong with your dick at all.”
“Good,” Mingyu nods, treacherous fingers sneaking over Seokmin’s skin where he’s most ticklish, “And Seokminnie?”
Seokmin feels like he can probably predict where this is going, based on the smug intonation of Mingyu’s voice, the tone he takes when he’s gearing up for mischief,. He indulges him all the same with a quiet hum.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone how much you liked it.”
Seokmin uses his hands and his feet to free himself from Mingyu’s grasp, the two of them squealing and cursing so loud, they finally earn themselves a stern knock on the wall from the room next door.
They freeze, eyes meeting, brains taking stock of the current circumstances, before collapsing into fresh peals of laughter.
“No, but really,” Mingyu giggles, holding Seokmin’s hands at arm’s length and staring up at him with mirth-laden eyes that still hold that signature Kim-Mingyu-sincerity, “I won’t tell.”
Seokmin nods: less of a joke this time. More of a solemn promise between friends.
“Thanks, Mingyu-yah.”