Chapter Text
Minho hears Jisung before he sees him, the telltale sound of overcaffeinated twenty-something misery floating towards the cafe entrance when Minho walks in at 2 PM on a Tuesday. Sure enough, when Minho rounds the large potted plant to see his friends at their favorite table, Jisung is draped over the table like a soggy paper bag, cheek puffed out against his arm with the force of his pout. Jeongin’s sitting next to him, scrolling through his phone with one hand and patting Jisung gingerly on the shoulder with the other.
“No one’s ever been able to make me come that quickly.”
“I know.”
“He was like, two fingers in and I already wanted to nut, dude.”
“I know.”
“He read my body like a book. Like the Bible. Or Park Wansuh. Or fuck, I don’t know. Fifty Shades of Grey. Okay, maybe not Fifty Shades of Grey. It was pretty vanilla, actually, but it was still like, the best sex of my pathetic little life.”
“I know.”
“And I won’t be able to experience it ever again.”
“I know.”
“What do you know?” Hyunjin asks breezily, sweeping past the chair Minho’s halfway through pulling out to plop down across from Jisung.
Jeongin doesn’t even look up. “Kim Seungmin’s magic dick.”
Ah. And cue Hyunjin dramatics in 3, 2…
Hyunjin hits his mark right on time, a patented Level 6 Hyunjin Sigh punched out of his gut as he too flops onto the table. “Ugh, Kim Seungmin’s magic dick…”
“Why did you tell me about it,” Jisung complains, raising his head just enough to look at Hyunjin. “Now I’m going to be comparing everyone else to him for the rest of my life!”
“Not my fault you decided to go for it,” Hyunjin says. Eyes unfocused, smile dreamy. God, two minutes in and this study session is already shaping up to be one of their least productive yet. “I told you he doesn’t do repeats—”
“I thought he might make an exception—”
“For you, and not for me? As if—”
Minho busies himself with pulling out his books, pretending he isn’t listening as Hyunjin and Jisung launch into yet another round of bickering.
The thing—not that Minho would ever admit to there being a thing—is that Minho is… well, not exactly experienced in the sexual arena. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. He’s well aware that there’s nothing wrong with that. Like, it’s seriously more normal than you think, okay. Minho doesn’t think about it at all.
Anyways.
The thing is that his friends—most of whom are younger than him, mind you, though not, again, like that matters at all—talk about their sexual exploits all the time! And they make them sound amazing. Not all the time, sure. Minho’s heard his fair share of stories about disappointing sexual encounters (“Dude literally lasted two minutes and then just like, left?”). But more often than not they’re good stories. Fun stories. Stories about the guy who’d made Jisung cry in a club bathroom (positive), the guy who’d done that thing with his tongue (extremely positive), or the guy with whom Hyunjin’d had marathon sex for ten hours straight (so positive Hyunjin had accidentally knocked over an entire bottle of detergent on the laundromat floor while retelling the story). Stories that make Minho wish he’s ever felt half as good as his friends seem to feel on a regular basis.
It’s not like he hasn’t tried. Minho’s a healthy young adult, so he’s pretty well acquainted with a bit of lotion and his left (or right) hand. He’d even tried fingering himself a couple of times to see what all the fuss was about, but his fingers are kind of short and his technique is probably shoddy and it just hadn’t really felt like anything, so he’d given it up as a lost cause. Having heard first Hyunjin’s, and now Jisung’s, fawning for the past month, though…
Would it feel different if Kim Seungmin were the one fingering him? If it were Kim Seungmin bent over him, forehead pressed to Minho’s as he found Minho’s spot, the one Jisung had assured Minho would make him see stars? If it were Kim Seungmin and his magic dick filling him up, rather than Minho’s own stubby, unsatisfying fingers?
***
Kim Seungmin looks exactly like his LinkedIn profile picture. Handsome, sure, but skinny and relatively unassuming, with a studious air lent almost entirely by his patterned cardigan and wire-rimmed glasses. This is the guy who’d blown both Jisung and Hyunjin’s backs out in a matter of weeks?
Minho frowns across the library. He’d given up on even pretending to study five minutes ago, keeping his eyes trained on the building entrance instead. All to ensure he didn’t miss the arrival of one particular library employee: the one who works the second shift at the circulation desk on Thursdays.
“Yongbokkie,” he says. “You know that guy?”
Yongbok glances up from his textbook with bleary eyes. “Hmm?”
“The one at the desk. Short hair, glasses?”
Yongbok squints across the room for a long moment before springing upright. “Seungmin-ah!” he hollers, waving a frantic hand before Minho claps a hand over his mouth and forces him back into his seat.
“What are you doing!” Minho hisses, studiously ignoring the gawking of the students around them. “We’re in the library!”
Sorry, Yongbok mouths. His breath is damp against Minho’s palm. Minho lets go, wrinkling his nose, and Yongbok bounds to his feet again, eyes honest-to-god sparkling. “I’m going to go say hi!”
Yongbok doesn’t give Minho a chance to respond, just bounces over to Seungmin, who’s already looking in their direction. Minho snaps his gaze back to his laptop. He can’t remember what he was doing before his phone had beeped to warn him of the upcoming shift change. Something for his circuits class, probably, but his blank laptop screen is no help at all. He gives up in favor of sneaking a glance up at the circulation desk. Yongbok’s leaning on it now, elbows resting at the edge as he whispers something to Seungmin. Seungmin says something in response, a dark eyebrow raised in challenge, before taking one look at Yongbok’s affronted face and breaking into silent laughter so forceful it rocks him back in his desk chair.
Minho grins despite himself. He usually reserves his ribbing for less sensitive targets, but it can be fun to tease Yongbok, who’s now slinking back to the table he and Minho had commandeered, pouting mightily as he goes. Over his shoulder, Minho makes eye contact with Seungmin. His gaze is warm on Minho’s face for several long, heart-stopping seconds, mirth still written all over his face. Then he rakes his eyes down and back up again with deliberate slowness, wide smile growing smaller, more intimate, before crooking one of those damnable eyebrows at Minho.
Minho’s ears go scarlet. He splutters silently for a moment, mouth working with absolutely nothing to say, then ducks his head behind his laptop screen again. He can almost hear Seungmin’s snickering from across the room.
“Smug bastard!” he mutters, smashing some keys at random to wake his laptop up.
“Tell me about it.” Yongbok slouches back into his seat. His pout has mostly faded, replaced with a borderline maniacal grin. “I’m going to crush him next week!”
Tone as casual as he can manage, Minho asks, “So you two are like… friends?”
Yongbok nods. “We met in class first year! Now we mostly game together.”
“You two seem really close. Have you ever…?”
“Ever…?” Yongbok looks over at him, eyes open and guileless. Then it seems to register, and he shakes his head, laughing. “What, like, dated? No, no.”
A sigh of relief escapes before Minho can suppress it. Thank god, at least one person who hasn't—
“Though we did hook up once,” Yongbok says, thoughtful. “It was amazing.”
Minho stifles the urge to scream.
***
There has to be something deeply wrong with this man, Minho decides. No one could possibly be this handsome and smart (departmental honors three years in a row, per LinkedIn) and fantastically good in bed. Right? Seungmin probably like, hates cats or murders people or refuses to eat leftovers. At least one of the three.
Minho should probably want to know which, but instead he’s preoccupied with daydreams of Seungmin whipping off his glasses to ravish him, Business Proposal-style. In every fantasy, Seungmin is attentive. In control. More dedicated to Minho’s pleasure than his own, though Minho does spare a few thoughts to what it might be like to witness neat, studious Seungmin falling apart.
(Dream-Seungmin also speaks French, for some reason. Minho decides not to examine this further.)
“Hyung!” Hyunjin crashes into Minho’s side, sweat slicking his bangs to his forehead as he clings to Minho’s shoulder. “What are you doing, we've been calling you for ages! Break’s over!”
Minho blinks at him. Break? Ah, right. The dance practice he’s supposed to be leading, rather than staring off into space thinking about Seungmin’s mouth and how it might look saying things like courgette and aubergine.
He shakes himself, brushes imaginary dust off his sweatpants, and gets back to work.
***
By the end of dance practice, Minho’s made up his mind. He’s hardly the kind of person to waste time. To paraphrase Ariana-sunbaenim, he sees it, he likes it, he wants it, he gets it. That’s how he'd gotten into dance, all those years ago. How he'd gotten his first cat. How he'd gotten into university.
This is no different. Just as he had then, Minho formulates a plan.
Step one: research.
how to have anal sex, he types laboriously into Naver.
Most of the links are not particularly helpful, just listicles of vague things he already knows. Make sure to prep adequately! or Use a condom! or Don’t be afraid to use lots of lube! He does find some useful tips, especially on the forums. Stuff about favorite positions, ways to relax one’s body. Reassurances that certain bodily reactions are normal, that not everything happens the way it does in porn.
It's comforting to know that so many people have had the same questions he's had. More comforting still that most of them seem to have figured things out.
He’s idly skimming yet another article aimed at cis women looking to experiment with their boyfriends when he sees something that makes him stop short.
Number 11 - Anal botox might be an up-the-butt game changer!
Anal botox, Minho mouths incredulously. He closes the tab. Then he shuts down his computer, for good measure, and goes outside.
***
“Hey,” Minho says, the next time he visits Hyunjin and Jisung’s building. It’s dark in Hyunjin’s apartment, the only light in the room emanating from the paused TV. On screen, Coach Ukai is in the middle of giving an impassioned speech about perseverance or something. “You guys have bottomed a lot, right?”
“Define a lot,” Jisung says, looking up from his phone to do something vaguely suggestive with his eyebrows.
Hyunjin smacks him in the shoulder. “You qualify by any definition, Han Jisung. Sorry, hyung, keep going.”
Minho hesitates. Two sets of expectant eyes stare up at him. “Have you ever… gotten anything for that? Like, medically?”
Hyunjin frowns. “What, like PrEP?”
“No, I was thinking something more… topical… to make the experience more enjoyable.”
“Lube?” Jisung suggests.
Minho huffs. “No! I meant…”
“Can you just say whatever it is,” Hyunjin says, after another pregnant pause. “Jisungie and I are kinda bad at twenty questions.”
Minho looks down at the fuzzy blanket on his lap. His ears are beginning to heat up, though it's hopefully unnoticeable in the darkness. “I was reading an article,” he says, “and it was talking about… anal botox?”
The room is dead silent. Then Jisung’s eyes crinkle and Hyunjin presses his lips together really hard and all of a sudden they're falling over each other, limbs a tangled mess as they collapse into giggles. Minho, resigned, closes his eyes to wait it out.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung gasps after a couple of minutes.
“Sorry, hyung,” Hyunjin echoes, straightening and wiping a tear from his eyes. “We know it was a serious question.”
Jisung places a hand over his heart, though the effect is ruined by the fact that his mouth is still twitching. “I can confirm that I, for one, have never gotten anal botox.”
“Me neither,” Hyunjin says. Then he frowns and leans forward, placing a hand on Minho’s shoulder. “But I don't think it's weird, hyung, if that's something you're looking into. I've heard it helps some people, so if you're having trouble bottoming, maybe it's worth…”
Jisung's nodding. “You never wanna talk about your sex life, hyung, but if you want any tips, consider us your bottom fairy godmothers! We’re here for you!”
He finishes that proclamation with hand hearts and an exaggerated wink. Minho doesn't know how to explain he doesn't really have a sex life to talk about, much less how he's supposed to respond to the phrase “bottom fairy godmother.” Thankfully, Hyunjin saves him by launching into a long explanation of his extensive stretching routine (“start small and work up!”), and his new fairy godmothers occupy themselves by bickering over bottoming advice for the rest of the evening.
***
Step two: preparation.
“Yang Jeongin,” Minho barks, slamming the door open with his forearm. “I need to borrow your sluttiest outfit.”
Jeongin blinks up at him from his cross-legged position on the floor. Across the tiny room, the menu of some brightly colored video game is blinking on Jeongin’s TV. “I don’t think I want to ask any follow-up questions.”
“Good boy,” Minho sings, striding over to Jeongin’s wardrobe and yanking it open to peer at its contents. First with curiosity, then with increasing bewilderment at the sheer range of options.
Jeongin elbows him out of the way. “I’ll get it, hyung, you sit.”
He rifles through the hangers, lips pursed in concentration. After a minute, he pulls out something that might, if Minho were being charitable, be called a blazer. It’s black, with wide shoulders and a tapered waist and cutouts upon cutouts upon cutouts, deftly placed across the torso amidst corset-style boning to create a spiderweb effect. He offers it to Minho, eyebrow crooked.
Minho hesitates. “Do you have anything that… covers more of the stomach?”
“You’re the one who wanted my sluttiest outfit,” Jeongin grumbles, but he’s already rooting through his wardrobe again. “Arms okay? Chest?”
Relief courses through Minho’s body. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
He ends up in a tight-fitting black top with a zipper running up the front, which Jeongin strategically unzips to show off a flash of Minho’s pecs. It’s tight around the arms, too, showing off the bulge of his biceps. Paired with some jewelry and a pair of loose-fitting black pants, Minho feels good. Fuckable, probably. He should confirm.
“Does this make me look fuckable?” he asks Jeongin.
Jeongin makes the most disgusted face Minho’s ever seen him make in all their years of friendship. “Ew. No.”
“You're biased,” Minho says, rolling his eyes. He surveys himself in Jeongin’s shitty mirror, the one he’d probably gotten off of Coupang for ₩30,000. “I need someone to give me an objective opinion.”
“Why don't you go ask whoever you're trying to fuck?”
“Ew. No.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes in return. He’s smiling though, and his eyes are sincere when they meet Minho’s. “You look good, hyung. Promise.”
“Yeah?” Minho flashes him a quick, tight-lipped smile before turning back to the mirror. His reflection is pale and wan under the fluorescent lights, made paler in contrast to the bright Pororo stickers Jeongin had stuck around the mirror border. He meets Jeongin's eyes through the mirror. “Hey… do me a favor?”
“Another one?” Jeongin jokes.
Minho takes a moment to really look at him. Jeongin’s so large now. Confident and funny, with interests and expertise wholly his own. A far cry from the scruffy kid Minho had taken under his wing so many years ago. “Don't tell anyone?”
Jeongin visibly softens. “Okay. But let me know if you need anything?”
“Who’s the hyung here,” Minho grumbles, running an affectionate hand through Jeongin's hair on his way out. He stops in the doorway to smile back at Jeongin, who's already flopped back down on the floor. “Thanks, Jeongin-ah.”
He gets a dismissive wave in answer, Jeongin’s mouth already full of konjac jelly.
***
Step three: seduction.
The club is packed when Minho gets there. Not unexpected for a Friday night, but less than ideal for Minho’s plans. He heads straight for the bar, throwing back a drink before flagging the bartender down for another.
“Whoa,” the man next to him says. He looks Minho up and down, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “What’s the rush, beautiful? You here alone?”
Minho spares him a glance. The man is good-looking. He might have responded, on another day. Not today, though. He mumbles something nonsensical in response, and the man seems to take the hint, nodding politely before moving on to a different section of the bar.
Minho lingers, taking more measured sips of his second drink. The club is dark and hazy, illuminated by purple strobe lights. He’d had it on good authority that Seungmin likes it here.
It's not really the scene Minho would have pictured for Seungmin. Not that he knows Seungmin all that well, of course, but just based on vibes, he would have pictured somewhere quieter. Less crowded. Brighter, probably.
He scans the crowd. No sign of Seungmin yet, though Jisung had said that many people don't show up until later. Minho hadn't wanted to risk it. What if he'd gotten to the club and Seungmin had already come and gone, picking up some other guy and taking him home instead? That wouldn't do.
He forces himself to relax. Seungmin will be here. Probably. And then Minho will find his way to him and somehow convince him to fuck Minho’s brains out. Simple. Minho’s never tried seducing anyone before, but how hard could it be? His friends do it all the time.
His thoughts are interrupted by a familiar synth riff. At the first notes of Usher’s Yeah, Minho slams his empty glass down on the bar, eyes wide. Then he's flinging himself into the crowd, pushing his way through until he finds an empty pocket of space where he can dance and dance and dance.
Within seconds, he's lost in the thrill of movement. The swing of his hips, the roll of his body, the savage grin overtaking his face as he lets loose. There's no one else but him there, regardless of the press of bodies on all sides. Just Minho and the irrepressible rhythm coursing through him.
He doesn't know how long he spends dancing, but by the time he's done he’s buoyant and buzzing. He dabs at his forehead with the back of his palm before getting distracted by the zipper of his shirt, which has worked itself down distressingly low. He zips it back up again, accepting nods and back slaps from the small crowd that's accumulated, and heads off to the bar in search of something to cool himself off.
It’s busier now, and it takes a while for him to get his drink. After a moment of deliberation, he heads for a cluster of sofas in the corner of the room, where people are sitting and drinking and chatting. And making out, probably, though Minho doesn't let his gaze linger. He finds an empty spot without too much trouble and looks around for a table to set his drink down on. That, too, is pretty easy to find, and Minho’s just about to hum with satisfaction as he sits down when his ass collides with something bony.
He whirls around, startled, and finds himself nose to nose with—
Speak of the devil. Kim Seungmin looks back at him, a small half-smile on his face. He’s dressed to go out, his dark silky button-down unbuttoned to show off a flash of collarbone. Minho briefly laments the fact that Seungmin’s not wearing his glasses.
“Sorry,” Seungmin says, not sounding sorry at all. The girl sitting next to them barely spares them a glance.
“I was sitting here,” Minho says.
“No, you weren't.”
“I was about to sit here,” Minho amends.
Seungmin shrugs. “Maybe we can share…?”
He pauses expectantly, and Minho realizes he's waiting for something.
“Minho. Lee Minho.”
“We can share, Minho-ssi.” His teeth are very straight. “After all, we're hardly strangers, are we?”
Minho's breath catches in his throat. Had Seungmin caught on to the way Minho had been looking into him? He’d made sure that he'd done his LinkedIn stalking on private mode and everything, but maybe—
“We have a couple of mutual friends, I think,” Seungmin is saying instead. Minho breathes an internal sigh of relief.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Yongbokkie, right?”
“Yes, and Chan-hyung.”
Chan?? Minho had expected Jisung, maybe, or Hyunjin. Maybe even Jeongin, who apparently has some kind of literature class with Seungmin. Does Minho have any friends Seungmin doesn't know? Has he fucked Chan, too?
Seungmin's frowning, concern marring his handsome features. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Minho says. He consciously untenses his muscles, lets his weight settle fully on Seungmin’s thighs. “Yeah, I’m friends with Channie-hyung. Haven't seen him in a while, though.”
“His senior project,” Seungmin says matter-of-factly, as if it’s an answer to Minho's comment. In a way it is. Minho’s pretty sure Chan hasn't seen daylight since the school year started.
They make small talk for a few more minutes before falling silent. Minho takes a long sip of his drink to have something to do, hyperconscious of Seungmin’s warmth behind him. So close, yet they’re barely touching, the only points of contact Seungmin’s bony thighs under his.
He’s just wishing Seungmin would touch him more, run his hands over his chest and pull him tight against his body, when Seungmin rests a deliberate hand on Minho’s hip. He hooks his chin over Minho’s shoulder, the touch light enough that Minho could pull away easily if he wanted.
“Bet those two will end up making out by the end of the next song,” he murmurs, breath tickling Minho’s ear.
Minho eyes the couple Seungmin’s gesturing to. “No, the one with the pink hair is enjoying the chase too much. I think it'll take them two songs, at least.”
“What will you give me if I’m right?”
Minho snorts. “Bragging rights.”
Then, since Seungmin had made the first move, he leans back until his back is flush with Seungmin’s front. Against his shoulder, Seungmin’s smile widens.
Seungmin’s funny, Minho realizes after a couple more observations about various people on the dance floor. Minho finds himself joking back, rewarded by the occasional rumble of Seungmin’s laughter against him.
After a while a new DJ comes on, and along with her a spattering of early 2010s kpop hits. Minho can't help himself when Mr. Chu comes on, body moving unconsciously to the chorus choreography. He gets more into it as the song progresses, getting all the way to the “Hey you!” at the end of the second chorus before Seungmin’s fingers tighten on his hip.
“Minho-ssi,” Seungmin says in his ear. His voice is strained. “Can you please…”
Minho looks back at him, startled. Seungmin’s lips are pressed tightly together. He shifts uncomfortably under Minho, and all of a sudden Minho understands.
“Oh, Seungminnie,” he says, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face. “Really? From Mr. Chu?”
Experimentally, Minho rolls his hips back and is met with something very hard and very large. So his friends hadn't been lying after all. Seungmin groans low in his ear before seeming to remember himself. He lets go of Minho like a hot stove, leans further back so they're no longer touching everywhere. Minho feels the loss instantly.
Carefully, deliberately, he reaches back until he feels Seungmin’s hand. He pulls it back onto his hip, leaves his smaller hand over Seungmin’s. After a moment, Seungmin’s fingers settle back onto Minho's hip like they belong there. He begins rubbing circles into Minho’s side, small at first and then larger, until his thumb is catching on the hem of Minho’s stupid zippered shirt and dipping underneath. Minho melts against him, letting his head fall back onto Seungmin’s shoulder as Seungmin’s long fingers caress his bare skin. Seungmin bends his head to kiss Minho's ear, a move so unexpected both ears flare red-hot immediately. That makes Seungmin laugh, and he noses at Minho's earlobe before dotting another soft kiss on Minho's temple.
Minho feels so good, almost boneless, and Seungmin’s barely even touched him. He rolls his hips again, feels Seungmin’s cock stiffen even further against him.
“Private,” Seungmin gasps out, fingers suddenly a vice grip on Minho’s hip. “Let's go somewhere more private.”
The taxi to Seungmin’s is tense, the silence so oppressive the taxi driver turns up his trot music to drown it out. They fidget from opposite ends of the backseat, taking care not to look at each other too long.
The second Seungmin unlocks his door, Minho pushes him into the apartment, spinning them both around to press Seungmin against his front door. Seungmin grins into the kiss, then gives as good as he gets, licking into Minho's mouth with easy confidence.
“Bedroom,” Seungmin murmurs, walking Minho backwards. Minho doesn't bother looking where they're going, occupied instead with exploring every corner of Seungmin’s mouth. This, at least, he knows.
Seungmin detaches himself long enough to push Minho to sit on the edge of his bed. He pops the buttons of Minho’s pants with ease, even as he gives Minho one last, lingering kiss. Minho watches him sink onto his knees, heart in his throat as Seungmin fishes him out of his pants.
When he closes his mouth around the head of Minho's cock, Minho can't help himself from moaning, head falling back against his shoulders. Nothing has ever felt as good as this, Seungmin’s hot mouth around him, his long fingers around the base. He works his fingers into Seungmin’s short hair, marveling at the stretch of Seungmin’s lips around his not-insignificant girth, the brush of Seungmin’s nose against his pelvis.
Seungmin's good at this, of course. Knows exactly what to do with his tongue, what makes Minho gasp and shudder and moan under him. Minho’s starting to feel a little too good a little too quickly, though, so he taps at Seungmin's shoulder. Gently, at first, then with some urgency.
“Hey.”
Seungmin pulls off, looking up at him quizzically. Minho gets temporarily distracted by the quirk of his dark eyebrows, the mussed hair, the spit-slick redness of his mouth.
“Aren't you going to…” Minho makes a vague gesture with his hand, but it's enough to clue Seungmin in.
His mouth twitches, eyes crinkling. “You want my fingers, baby?”
Ugh. Is he going to make Minho say it out loud?
“Yes,” he grits out. Then, because Seungmin is still looking at him, apparently giving up on suppressing his grin, he adds, “Please.”
Seungmin hums, giving Minho’s cock one last tug before getting off his knees. “Okay. Since you asked so nicely.”
He strips Minho with practiced efficiency, making a quick detour to grab lube from his bedside table. It’s almost empty, Minho notes. Not that he would expect otherwise, from Seungmin. He hadn't thought he'd feel anything, seeing the physical evidence of Seungmin's activities, but there's a pang in his chest anyways.
Just one of many, he reminds himself. Just one of many.
He crosses his legs, feeling exposed. Why hadn't Seungmin taken his clothes off?
Seungmin takes one look at Minho and pauses, setting the bottle of lube on the bed. "Hey. You okay?"
"Fine," Minho says. He scoots closer and tugs at Seungmin's shirt. "Take this off."
Seungmin obeys without question, letting his shirt drop to the floor in one practiced movement. He lets Minho look his fill, eyes roving over Seungmin's broad shoulders and lean muscle, his tiny waist and brown nipples. Minho wonders if they're sensitive.
When he flicks his gaze back up to Seungmin's face, Seungmin's watching him back, a hunger Minho hadn't noticed before lingering in his eyes. "Ready?" he asks.
The first finger is, well, a finger up his ass. Well lubed, sure, and slightly knobbly, but just a finger. Kind of uncomfortable.
“Relax,” Seungmin says into Minho’s ear.
“I’m trying.”
Seungmin kisses him in lieu of an answer, slow and sweet. Minho sighs into his mouth, the tension he’d been holding in his abdomen bleeding out onto Seungmin’s fancy cotton sheets.
“That’s it,” Seungmin murmurs. He pushes in slowly, waiting for Minho’s body to adjust before beginning to work his finger in and out. It takes a few thrusts before he brushes against a spot that makes Minho gasp without meaning to. Seungmin smiles against Minho’s cheek. “There you are.”
“Oh,” Minho says, dazed. “So that's what it feels like.”
“Your first time bottoming?” Seungmin asks conversationally.
Minho clamps his mouth shut. He doesn't trust himself to respond, the pleasure bubbling up with every thrust of Seungmin’s finger competing with the embarrassment flooding his cheeks.
Seungmin pulls out. Minho almost whines at that, at the sudden emptiness inside him.
“Wait, you're not…”
“Not what,” Minho says, wiggling his hips in a futile attempt to get Seungmin’s finger inside him again.
Instead, Seungmin sits back on his heels, frowning. His eyebrows are so sexy furrowed like that, the position highlighting both his broad shoulders and the very large, very prominent bulge straining at the front of his pants. “Hyung, are you a virgin?”
Suddenly, there’s no holding back the blood rushing to Minho’s face. He breaks eye contact, staring instead at some point to Seungmin’s left. He catches sight of a baseball mitt, well oiled and well used, placed carefully atop a bookshelf. “So what if I am?”
“I would have done things differently! Oh my god, I can't believe I was just, like, sucking you off without—”
“You're doing perfectly,” Minho blurts out.
They both stare at each other for a minute, before Seungmin’s face melts into a smirk. “Not that you have anything to compare it to,” he says, “but I’ll take it.”
“Come back,” Minho whines. He makes grabby hands at Seungmin, who's still way too far away.
Seungmin laughs at him, then rocks forward again to hover over Minho, handsome features still creased with amusement. “Okay, baby. You want me to keep going?”
I want you to ruin me for anyone else, Minho thinks. Want you to fuck me and keep me and make me yours.
He’s not stupid, so he doesn't say any of this out loud, just gives Seungmin a curt nod.
Seungmin leans down to kiss him again, more intensely this time. It’s wet and warm and open-mouthed, and Minho almost doesn't notice when Seungmin slips his finger in again. Not until Seungmin hits his prostate dead on, and Minho keens into his mouth, high and desperate. “Seungmin, Seungmin, yes yes yes right there yes—”
“God, you're so hot,” Seungmin groans into his throat. “Keep talking, hyung, let me hear you.”
Minho does, growing increasingly less self-conscious as he continues to babble. It takes a while before Seungmin deems him sufficiently prepped. He turns Minho onto his stomach after the first two fingers, murmuring something about the position being more comfortable. Sometime after the third, he draws away, pulling another embarrassingly high whine out of Minho along with his fingers.
“Don't worry, sweetheart.” Seungmin's voice is amused behind him. “I just need to get—”
There's the telltale crinkle of foil, and Minho whips his head around to look. Sure enough, Seungmin’s rolling a condom on, the span of his big hand across his girth obscene. Minho’s breath catches in his throat.
Then Seungmin’s back, one hand splayed across Minho’s lower back as he kneels between Minho’s legs.
“Spread yourself for me,” Seungmin commands.
Minho does as told. The position makes him feel exposed, on his knees with his fingers spreading his ass open, cock pressed uncomfortably into one of Seungmin’s pillows. He wonders what he looks like from Seungmin’s point of view.
“So sexy, hyung,” Seungmin murmurs, as if reading his mind. “So beautiful. I can't believe I’m the first person who gets to see you like this.”
There's a click, and then the cold wetness of more lube dripping onto his hole.
Minho waits, blood pounding in his ears. One, three, five heartbeats. He’s about to twist around again and demand to know where Seungmin is, what's taking so long, when he finally feels a pressure at his entrance. He swallows a gasp as Seungmin pushes in, the head catching on Minho’s rim. Seungmin waits, arms braced on either side of Minho, breath hot against his neck. After a moment Minho lets his breath out slowly, and Seungmin takes that as a cue to keep going, bullying the head past his rim one agonizing millimeter at a time.
It feels… odd. Minho’s never had anything this large inside before. He thinks he likes it, this feeling of being stretched. It’s new, though, his body screaming at the intrusion.
By the time Seungmin is fully inside, it’s all Minho can do to bite back his groan. It’s nothing like Minho’s fumbling attempts with his fingers, or even the waves of pleasure Seungmin had brought on earlier with his much more skilled ones. Instead, it’s warm. Intimate. He can feel Seungmin everywhere. Inside him, draped over him, calves brushing against Minho’s.
He only wishes—
“Okay, baby?” Seungmin kisses the back of his neck.
“Okay,” Minho breathes. “But—”
He trails off, presses his lips together. He shouldn't say it. Shouldn't want it, not with a near-stranger.
“But?” Seungmin prompts.
Minho hesitates. Seungmin waits, patient.
“I kind of want—I think it might be nice—I just—”
“What is it, hyung? I won't be offended. Do you want to change positions?”
“No, this is okay,” Minho says honestly. “But…”
“Tell me.” Seungmin’s voice is sharp-tinged, now. “Or don't you trust me?”
That's the problem. Minho trusts him way too much.
“Idon’twantthecondom,” Minho blurts out.
On top of him, Seungmin is very, very still. “Say that again?”
Minho takes a breath. “I want you to fuck me raw, Seungminnie. Wanna feel your cum in me, without anything between us.”
There's a moment of silence, before Seungmin lets out a long, shaking laugh. He presses his forehead against Minho’s shoulder. “You're going to be the death of me, hyung.”
“Is that a yes?” Minho forces himself to ask.
“Fuck it,” Seungmin announces. He pulls out so fast Minho doesn't even realize it's happened until it's too late, then hops off the bed.
“Seungmin!”
“I’ll be back in a second,” Seungmin says over his shoulder.
He comes back with some towels, forcing Minho up so he can lay them down to his liking. “Cleanup is the worst,” he explains. “You're lucky you're you. I wouldn't do this for most people.”
“Honored,” Minho says drily. He is, though. Honored that Seungmin chose him tonight, honored that he's treating him with such consideration, honored that he's indulging Minho in this request.
“Okay!” Seungmin announces when he's done. He grins at Minho, bright-eyed and plainly pleased with his work. His cock is still rock solid, though freed from its latex prison. Minho’s mouth waters. “Shall we?”
Minho flops back on the bed in response, stomach-first. There's an appreciative hum behind him, then a big palm cupping his ass, fingers massaging the soft flesh. Lips and teeth on his inner thighs, until Minho is squirming and whining all over again.
“Inside,” he gasps out. “Fuck me, please.”
“Yeah,” Seungmin says, breathless. “I’m coming, baby, give me a second.”
He lines himself up again, pushes in. This time there's no holding back Minho’s moan, the way his breath hitches with every centimeter. Seungmin pulses inside of him.
“You're taking me so well,” Seungmin whispers, dotting kisses down Minho's neck. “So perfect, hyung.”
Every word has flown out of Minho’s head, the only thought a persistent Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin.
“That’s me,” Seungmin says. He sounds amused. Then he draws his hips back and slams in again, and Minho forgets even that.
Then there's nothing but pleasure, and Seungmin's voice in his ear.
“Gonna mold you to me,” Seungmin murmurs, right after a particularly hard thrust. “Gonna shape this pretty hole in my image. Leave you wanting the next time you get fucked, wishing it was me instead, wishing it was my cock filling you up.”
“Only you,” Minho gasps, cheek braced against his forearms as Seungmin rams his cock into him again and again and again. “Only you, only you, only you.”
“That’s right.” It’s almost a growl, Seungmin fucking him faster and deeper with every stroke, until the pleasure bubbling up in Minho’s gut reaches a boiling point.
He tries to work a hand underneath himself, but Seungmin laces his fingers through Minho's before he can, pinning his hand to the bed.
“Please,” Minho says, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Touch me, please.”
“Come on my cock, baby. Come on, I know you can.”
“I can't, I can't, I need you—”
Abruptly, Seungmin pulls out.
“No!” Minho cries, but then Seungmin’s hands are on his waist. Gentle, a stark contrast to the way he'd been fucking into Minho thirty seconds ago, hard and fast and savage. He turns Minho around, lays him back against the pillows and wraps his legs around Seungmin’s waist. He smiles at Minho when their eyes meet, dips down to press a lingering kiss to Minho’s waiting lips.
Then he shoves in again, and Minho’s mouth drops open at the new angle, the way Seungmin’s cock rubs against his prostate with every thrust. His fingers scrabble at Seungmin’s broad back, desperate to find purchase as Seungmin fucks him into the mattress. He’s probably leaving marks, but he couldn't care less right now, not when the pressure is building up inside of him, the pleasure cresting until finally, finally he clenches down on Seungmin's cock and—
“Oh, hyung, you're doing so well for me,” Seungmin whispers, breath warm in Minho’s ear. “That’s it. So good, my beautiful hyung—”
Minho shudders against his shoulder and comes.
Seungmin follows soon after, his pace increasingly desperate and ragged until, with one final twitch, he’s spilling inside Minho. It’s hot and wet and so mindblowingly sexy Minho’s spent cock twitches haplessly where it's trapped between their bodies.
Seungmin presses his smirk into Minho’s shoulder. “Liked that, hmm?”
“Shut up,” Minho says, but he's too tired and warm and sated to put any heat behind the words.
“Don't think I will. You liked it, didn't you, hyung?”
With effort, Minho scowls up at him. “What, you want a Naver review?”
“Would be nice,” Seungmin says, unperturbed. Then he raises his head and smiles down at Minho. A real one, bright and puppyish. It makes him look younger. Cute, like someone Minho should be taking care of rather than the other way around. “I hope you had a good time.”
“Don't give me your customer service spiel while you're still inside me,” Minho grumbles.
“What, you want me to pull out?”
“No!” Minho says, too fast, then socks Seungmin in the shoulder when he giggles. “Asshole.”
He can't help smiling back, though, and before he knows it the question is tumbling out: “Did you?”
“Did I?” Seungmin cocks his head. He looks adorable, all messed up like this. Minho spots a fresh scratch on his shoulder where Minho had dug his nails in as he came.
“Have a good time,” Minho mumbles.
Seungmin’s smile turns roguish. “Did I enjoy deflowering you? Yes.”
Minho moves to hit him on the shoulder again, but Seungmin dodges this time, laughing. “Don't say it like that!”
“What would you prefer? ‘Did I enjoy fucking your tight virgin asshole?’ Because the answer is also yes.”
“You're such an dick,” Minho says. “Can’t believe I let you put your cock in me.”
Seungmin bends down at that, eyes mischievous.
"Be honest, hyung," he murmurs, breaths puffing out against Minho's lips. "You wanted me specifically, yeah? Wanted me to be the one to take your virginity. That's why you came all the way down to the club, all dolled up, and fell right into my lap."
"I didn't fall," Minho snaps. "I was sitting down, like a normal person, until you got in my way."
"If you say so. I notice you're not denying the rest of it, though." Seungmin's voice is low, teasing. Warmth pools in Minho's belly.
He clamps his mouth shut, and Seungmin laughs. "That's okay, baby." The audacity! Minho is about to open his mouth to complain, when Seungmin leans down even further with a smirk. "You don't have to say it out loud."
Seungmin closes the gap, then, and Minho has to suppress a gasp as he once again crushes their lips together. It’s wild and scorching and somehow even more desperate than their earlier kisses. Inside him, Seungmin’s softened cock pulses.
Seungmin pulls just far enough away to gasp, “Round 2?” Minho drags him back down in answer, closing the distance between their mouths and rolling his hips up to meet Seungmin’s. Seungmin’s still-warm come eases the glide, makes everything even wetter and messier than before.
It’s faster this time, both of them still sensitive. Seungmin does touch him this time, the sight of his long fingers around Minho's cock so arousing he comes almost immediately. He doesn't have time to feel embarrassed, though, because Seungmin’s whispering in his ear the whole time, telling Minho how hot he is, how perfect, how good he looks spread out under Seungmin.
“Praise me more,” Minho demands when they're finished, eyes slipping shut as Seungmin cleans them both up and bundles him soundly into bed. “Give me a million compliments.”
Seungmin laughs at him but kisses him on the forehead anyways. “My sweet hyung, my beautiful hyung, my smart wonderful talented hyung. You were so good.”
“Damn right,” Minho mumbles, but he's already drifting off even as the last syllable tumbles into Seungmin’s pillow.