Work Text:
Los Angeles.
Kim Kibum, May 2012.
Kibum enters the hotel room and slams the door. He doesn't spare a breath when he realizes Minho's already there, because of course he is, and charges past him and pulls his suitcase onto his bed to start rummaging through it.
"Hey," Minho says, but Kibum doesn't look at him.
"Shut up," Kibum says, ungenerously. "I'm not in the mood."
He just wants to find his skincare kit and shower and go to bed and not deal with whatever smug shit Minho is inevitably going to rain down on him.
Kibum hears Minho close the book he's reading.
"Did you…have fun tonight?"
"Yeah, sure," Kibum says sarcastically. "Tons of fun."
God, so what if he got shot down by the THREE people he propositioned tonight? Three! And not one of them wanted to fuck him. Minho can never know this. He can't handle a fourth rejection tonight.
Kibum slams his suitcase closed dramatically and heaves a sigh.
"Did you eat something?" Kibum asks. "It stinks in here."
"I brought garlic chicken back," Minho says. "Do you want some? I can reheat it."
Kibum finally turns to look at him. Is he being daft?
"No," Kibum says, deeply irritated and now a little confused. "Can you open a window or something? It's really…it smells strongly."
Instead of arguing, Minho gets up immediately and gathers his leftover containers off the desk to put into the fridge, then tries to sort out the window situation.
Kibum gives him two entire seconds to try.
"Nevermind, I'll do it," Kibum says, slapping Minho away from the window and jiggling the latch.
"Stop," Minho says, firmly. He grabs Kibum by the wrist and spins him around to face him. Kibum blinks at him for a minute before Minho continues, "Hey. What happened?"
Kibum immediately narrows his eyes, because he can detect pity from a mile away.
"Nothing," he says, ripping his hand away from Minho's grasp.
Minho raises an eyebrow at him.
"Oh give me a break," Kibum says, shoving him. "What do you care?"
"I care a lot," Minho says. "Tell me what happened."
"Nothing! Happened!" Kibum shouts. "Nothing!"
Kibum looks at Minho and realizes a number of things at once:
Frist, Minho's not stupid, and he's spent enough time paying attention to Kibum that he can read between the lines. Kibum sees it in his huge, bright eyes. Nothing happened…unfortunately. Minho immediately knows that whatever Kibum was looking forward to, whatever he wanted out of this night, this trip? He didn't get it.
The other thing he realizes is that Minho's not trying to pity him or tease him or make fun of him. He finally hears what Minho said a few seconds ago:
"I care a lot."
Minho … is trying to be nice to him.
Kibum watches Minho bite his lip and nod.
"Sorry," he says.
"Yeah," Kibum replies, sullen but still irritated. He's not sure who he's irritated at now, though.
Fine, he thinks. Minho's seen him at his lowest and deigned to be kind to him. He still wants to get the fuck to bed and have this awful night be over.
As Kibum turns away, Minho grabs his wrist again.
"Kibummie?" he says.
Kibum turns and gives him a tired look.
"Let me make you feel better?" Minho says.
Kibum tilts his head cautiously.
"What did you say?" Kibum asks.
"Let me," Minho says, stepping closer to Kibum and taking both of his hands. "Let me make you feel good."
An indignant laugh escapes Kibum's lungs, and it probably sounds ruder than he wants it to. But he searches Minho's eyes and realizes … he's serious.
"What are you talking about?" Kibum says, quiet. There's no bite to it.
"Take off your clothes and sit down. I wanna try something," Minho says.
Kibum is honestly stupefied.
So he holds his position, mouth slightly agape. This is not how they screw around. Minho's not yelling. He's not needling. He's not throwing Kibum around for being a cranky asshole. They haven't even fooled around the normal way in months.
He doesn't understand why. He can't figure out what Minho's angle is. Why he's being so embarrassingly direct.
"Have you been watching something weird?" Kibum says, forehead crinkling. Minho chuckles, then perseveres by leading Kibum to the bed by his hands.
Minho sits him down and then starts unbuttoning Kibum's shirt.
"Ya!" Kibum says, slapping him away and hugging his chest, "What do you need to take my clothes off for?"
Minho purses his lips and puts his hands on his hips.
"Cause I want to see your body while I suck your dick, okay?" He waves his hand. "Lets go."
Kibum looks back at him, stunned. He can't summon a single word in reply, but his mouth gapes a little again.
(Minho may be his little jerk-off buddy, but he's never done something overtly gay [as far as Kibum's fucked-up logic goes, anyway.] Minho's jerked him off, fucked his thighs, even received blowjobs from Kibum. But he's pointedly refused to fuck him for real, and certainly never given him a blowjob. That's why he's in this fucking situation in the first place. Kibum wanted to lose his god damned virginity and Minho was too straight to do it.)
Minho quickly gets impatient with Kibum's internal crisis and leans over to shove Kibum over on his back.
Instead of fighting back, Kibum just covers his face with his hands. Minho can probably see the flush spread over his cheeks anyway.
As Minho starts undressing him, Kibum thinks this can't be happening. Minho is gentle and tender as he undoes Kibum's pants and sides them off. This can't be happening.
Minho tugs at the top of Kibum's briefs and Kibum immediately lifts his hips, inviting Minho to pull them down. Fuck.
Minho looks at him like his heart's done a somersault.
Kibum whines in embarrassment.
Minho pulls down Kibum's underwear and leaves them tangled at his feet.
Kibum turns his face into his elbow to hide. He can't fathom what he must look like. But he does:
He's laid over the edge of the bed, knees pressed together, underwear pooled at his ankles. Cock exposed and bouncing on his navel as it fills up. His deep breaths making his rosy chest rise and fall, all exposed and naked and…
"You look so sexy, Kibum," Minho says.
Kibum stops breathing.
Minho reaches for Kibum's arm to pull it away from where it's covering him.
Sexy? he thinks, looking up at Minho. Is this man for real?
But he's definitely looking at him like he wants him. Like he's hungry. Minho's also red in the face, cock tenting in his pants.
Kibum wonders if he knows.
He wonders if Minho knows that he shot his shot with three different men tonight and got turned down by all of them, including one in a deeply humiliating way.
He wonders if Minho knows he entered the room feeling the opposite of sexy. Feeling repulsive, radioactive, disgusting.
He wonders if Minho knows that feeling like someone really wants him now might break him.
But he can't know.
"Hey, watch me, huh?" Minho says, nodding his head.
Kibum doesn't respond, but he does prop himself up on his elbows. He wonders when Minho got so confident. He doesn't wonder for long, though, because he's quickly overwhelmed by he way Minho's goofy, enthusiastic sincerity suddenly seems…really…
…hot.
Minho kneels between Kibum's legs and puts his hands on Kibum's hipbones. He rubs the peaks with his thumbs at he stares Kibum's cock in the face.
After a (frankly, cute?) moment where Minho steels himself with a deep breath, he leans down and basically tackles (honestly, less cute) Kibum's dick with his mouth.
"Fuck!" Kibum groans, because despite the sloppy takeoff, Minho is off to a pretty good start. He's got as much of Kibum's cock in his mouth as easily fits, and he's sucking like he means it.
Minho hums, pleased as Kibum's reaction, and laves his tongue around the underside of the shaft.
"Ah, ah! You—!" Kibum cries, fisting his hands into the bedsheets. "Oh, God," he says, "fuck."
Minho pulls off, then licks big circles around the head of Kibum's dick. Minho groans, licking the slit as if he's hungry for the taste of Kibum's precum, then wraps his lips around the head again.
Kibum's breathing hard, groaning, stunned at how absolutely lewd Minho looks on him. But then Minho looks at him, huge eyes through huge lashes, tongue flicking the tip of his wet cock and Kibum yells out and clenches down — No, no, is that all it takes?
Minho pulls away and smiles.
"You can come, Bammie, that's the point."
"Oh shut up you monster," Kibum says. "Don't look at me while you're doing that."
"Cause it'll make you come?" Minho says, maintaining deliberate eye contact as he lightly licks Kibum's cockhead again. Kibum would scream, but the way his cock bounces and spurts precum in reaction is too embarrassing already.
"I hate you," Kibum hisses.
"You don't," Minho says, generously. "Here," he continues, reaching for Kibum's hands and pulling him more upright, then guiding his hands to the back of his own head.
"Hold me where you want me," he adds, then he descends.
Kibum groans loud as Minho takes him all the way down, tightening around him as he resists a gag. Kibum tightens his fists, can't help but to thrust forward, goes dizzy over being so deep in another man's throat.
Minho chokes, though, and pulls off, sputtering. Kibum doesn't have time to sigh at him, because Minho only takes a second before taking him back in. Minho starts going hard, groaning, sucking, and slobbering. He finds a rhythm, and Kibum is swept up in it, matching with little thrusts of his hips and pulls of his hands.
Kibum's walls break down all at once, and he goes stupid with it, that he's fucking Minho's face, and Minho's moaning around him like he loves it.
"Honey, yes…god!" Kibum moans. It feels good. Minho is making him feel good, and sexy, and all the things he'd hoped he'd get out of this night—
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, a heat bleeds up into his body from his core. Kibum gasps, and sound cuts out around him, and…oh…oh…
Minho is digging his knuckle into Kibum's taint.
"Ah, ah!! No! No! I—" Kibum shouts, and he falls backwards, and thrusts his hips up, and Minho moans loud and lewd and sucks harder and pushes harder and Kibum comes, shaking and crying and ugly.
Kibum's ears ring, and he feels like he's been completely immolated, and maybe he can't move or see or hear but Minho is definitely still sucking on him, meanly, swallowing around him, and he's still fucking coming?
"Stop, stop," Kibum cries, gasping, face wet with tears, hyper-sensitive, "stop, please, I can't!"
Minho backs off instantly, and Kibum takes a huge gasp before launching into the biggest sob of his life.
Kibum had been so excited about SMTown LA that it was impossible for anyone else to not notice.
Even though he had been saddled with more camera-facing responsibilities — vlogging, press appearances alongside Jinki, all a result of how good he was doing on variety shows — he was buzzing, he was laughing, he was smiling, and he wasn't even being mean to Minho.
It's not that he was being nice to Minho instead, it was just that he wasn't regarding him at all. Even when Minho was clearly upset that he'd been made into a running joke on Weekly Idol for not ranking, Kibum didn't tease him, but he didn't comfort him, either.
Kibum, who knew more intimately what it was like to feel like the extra, the other, the leftover of the group than anyone else, and he didn't offer any compassion to Minho.
Kibum was laser focused on losing his virginity in Los Angeles. Brimming with confidence and competence, he was determined to get himself laid before leaving California, even if it meant ignoring his members.
So now he's sitting there, shivering under the pile of blankets Minho has covered him in, crying and curled on himself in a hotel bed in Los Angeles, after the most amazing, body-altering orgasm of his life, feeling miserable and nasty because Minho, fucking Minho, the one person he's been the absolute worst towards, was the one to love him tonight.
"Kibummie," Minho says softly, nudging a glass of water in the direction of Kibum's face where it peeks out from the blankets.
Kibum stops crying long enough to lean up and take the glass, sipping it and returning it to Minho's hand. He hides back under the covers as soon as he does.
"Kibum, come on," Minho says. "You're freaking me out."
Kibum deigns to lay on his back and expose his face. He sniffs and wipes his face with the back of his arm.
"Where did you learn to do that?" He asks, voice gravelly.
"Hah!" Minho shouts, throwing his hands up. "You really are something else, Kim Kibum."
"What's your problem!?" Kibum shouts back.
"I suck you off and you start crying? Harder than I've ever seen you cry? Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you mind explaining a little bit about what's going on here?"
"Oh, fuck off Minho!" Kibum screams. "You sucked me off so good I cried about it! I came so hard I thought I died! I've never felt anything like that in my entire life! Are you happy?!" Kibum's sobbing again. "Are you happy now," he repeats, muffled as Minho pulls him into an embrace.
"God fucking damnit, Kibum," Minho says, voice shaky and tired. "What the fuck are we doing."
Kibum should probably confess everything. That would be the kind thing to do. He should tell Minho that he spent a month looking forward to hitting the town at full power, proving that he could be seductive and sexy, and was shot down miserably and horribly; and he came home from it, awful and mean at the one person who was trying to love him, who was trying to love him even though Kibum was not trying to get him to love him; and he made Kibum feel so good, so loved, so attended to, that along with the orgasm of his life came a complete ego breakdown, a complete reshaping of the universe around him, a new understanding of what could be done to his body when someone wanted him badly enough.
But he's twenty years old and he doesn't know how to confess something like that.
So he doesn't.
Instead, he lets Minho hold him while he cries. And Minho cries a bit, too. And Kibum doesn't know why Minho is crying, and doesn't ask. They hold each other until they both go quiet. Then Minho lays Kibum down, and he retreats to his own bed.
Kibum will never know how Minho learned to do that. Minho will never know exactly what he did to Kibum that night.
But it's the last time they'll touch one another intimately for a long time. They probably both know that.
The usefulness of their arrangement, of their casual sexual relationship, has come to an end.
It's the only way something new and better can begin.