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Mingi knows he's not an idiot, at least most of the time.
He did well enough in school, he has diverse interests and spends time diving into them via articles and documentaries, he has some level of social awareness and the ability to judge people's intentions quickly thanks to being a public figure—he's not an idiot.
But it really does feel that way sometimes.
It especially feels that way right now, standing outside of Yunho and Yeosang's apartment in loose sweats and an oversized long sleeved shirt, wincing in pain every now and then at the stinging radiating out from his groin.
Sometimes, it doesn't hurt for a few minutes, and he's able to mercifully forget. Then, fabric will shift just wrong and brush over the little row of shallow cuts, and a jolt of sharp pain rocks through him. Perhaps forgetting isn't an act of mercy if it means the surprise shocks of pain are that much worse.
It's not that bad, though, in the grand scheme of things, but it's still distracting and just past the threshold of pain that's low-grade enough for him to pretend nothing is wrong.
Still, he has last-minute plans with Yunho, and he never wants to miss any sort of plans with Yunho if at all possible. So here he stands, letting himself into the apartment after only a moment's hesitation. He steps in and slips his feet free from his slides, calling out, "Yunho!"
Through the open bedroom door, he hears him respond, "In here!" Faintly, he can smell sunny contentment in the air, the lightness of sea salt and ozone lifting his own spirits at the clear evidence that Yunho is feeling relaxed and happy. It's their first full day off in awhile, and some of the guys chose to spend it outside, taking advantage of the nice weather to shop or bike. Others, like him and Yunho, chose to spend it inside and relax, which is how Mingi found himself here.
For all he likes to joke that he sees Yunho 360 days out of the year and doesn't, therefore, need to see him or worry about where he is the remaining five days, he also can't deny the way his heart feels irrevocably pulled towards wherever Yunho is at any given moment. Even with a whole day free to spend at home, where he used his time to take what was supposed to be a very relaxing long shower, he immediately agreed to come over and watch anime when he saw the text from Yunho waiting for him after the… "incident."
He follows the trail of Yunho's oceanic scent, a tinge of happy, sweet almond bobbing underneath the surface of the saltwater. As he shuffles down the hallway, he hopes his own bonfire scent doesn't give away too easily that he's in pain. He tries to focus on his excitement instead—getting to see Yunho and watch some silly show he's been wanting to binge together should be enough to keep any bitter, stressed notes out.
He's able to forget the pain for another moment when he enters the room and sees Yunho fluffing his pillows, snacks and drinks already set up on his side table. He shoots Mingi a warm smile and a quiet hey as backs away from the pillow arranging and takes the few steps to his computer setup, sitting at his desk chair. Mingi can't stop a matching smile from forming on his own lips, but it drops the moment he sits on the edge of Yunho's bed. He feels his traitorous sweatpants brush against his wounded skin, a sharp sting zipping up the length of him that makes him want to curl up in pain.
Somehow, he reins it in just slightly, a quiet hiss between his teeth being the extent of the sound he lets himself make. His hand does shoot out instinctively, though, grabbing at his sweats just above the knee to pull and shift the fabric off of where his skin is throbbing slightly.
"What's wrong?"
Mingi hears the other's immediate question, making a noncommital sound before he mumbles nothing instinctively, even if he knows it's stupid. His eyes flick up to Yunho's, taking note of his raised eyebrow and obvious disbelief. He absolutely cannot tell Yunho the idiotic injury he's given himself, though, even if he can't pretend nothing is wrong either because Yunho is too smart for that. That, or Mingi is just too obvious. Potentially, probably, both.
"I think I strained something working out," he says quietly, "My thigh is sore, but it's fine." He thinks it's a believable enough excuse, a good reason for him to be visibly in pain sitting down, but Yunho just stares at him a bit longer before he turns away to focus on getting the anime set up to stream.
Clearly, Yunho doesn't believe him, but at least he isn't asking any more questions.
Mingi silently commits himself to pretending he isn't in any pain whatsoever, even if the row of stinging wounds send worse and worse pain signals to his brain. He vows that he will ignore them entirely, through somehow-as-of-yet-undiscovered acting prowess, if only to prevent new questions from forming in Yunho's brain.
With his new conviction in mind, he watches Yunho taptaptap on his keyboard, navigating to the streaming site and logging into his account. As he starts to look for the show they planned to watch, his tongue slips free, peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates. Mingi's eyes hone in on the little hint of pink, brain immediately hurling memories at him, pelting him with images of all the times he's seen Yunho put that tongue to work to take care of their pack.
Yunho isn't the only omega in the pack, of course, but he's the only one that Mingi has been pining over since he was a stupid teenager, the only one that matters right now, here in Yunho's bedroom. The only one Mingi really wants licking his wounds.
He remembers the first time it happened, just a couple months after they had all made their pack bond official. Mingi had wanted to prepare seaweed soup for San's birthday, trying his best to follow his mom's texted instructions, when their shitty knife slipped while he sliced the beef. It was dull, so the wound could have been worse, but the sight of blood steadily dripping down his thumb still made him freeze.
He stood there for what could have been an eternity, just staring, when a hand wrapped around his wrist and led him to the sink. Yunho quietly sanitized his hand while Mingi only stared at the concerned furrow in his brow. Once he was sure there were no traces of raw meat left on Mingi's fingers, he pulled it free from the water and held it close to his face, inspecting the cut.
Mingi can still remember the quiet, shy way he asked if he could help, the way he tentatively lapped at the cut when Mingi agreed. Warmth slowly spread out from the wound as it healed just a touch more with each swipe of Yunho's tongue, the licks speeding up as he gained confidence. When Yunho finally stopped, only a barely there mark remained. The warmth, however, shifted and settled in Mingi's chest instead, something about the care, the physical display of their bond as a pack soothing him in an entirely different way.
Since then, they all grew comfortable with the licking at their own pace; Yunho, San, and Seonghwa slowly but surely began offering to help the others with little cuts and scrapes whenever they wanted. Often, the injuries they got were too minor to warrant help—and unfortunately, occasionally too severe—but it was nice to have a quick fix for annoying little scrapes or visible injuries that they didn't want to worry fans with. Some of the other pack members were more happy to get licked, to bask in the healing and the affection than others, but they had all taken advantage of it at some point.
Memories continue to flit by in quick snapshots as Yunho finishes getting their show ready: soothing licks to Mingi's palms when he ate shit on Yeosang's skateboard, a gentle suckling on his singed fingertips when there were more cooking mishaps. Once, just once, a shy lap of his tongue over Mingi's jaw when he wanted a nick from shaving to disappear before a performance, the weight of his hand on Mingi's shoulder burning even through his heavy stage outfit.
Thinking about shaving and razors brings Mingi back to his present condition, to the steady thrum of pain in his groin that his own stupidity brought about. His brain is still mixing up images, memories of Yunho's healing licks swirling with the pain in a confusing haze until he blurts out, "Your spit would heal a cut anywhere, right?"
Yunho, finished setting up the show, freezes in the middle of shifting his desk chair back to get up and settle on the bed. He doesn't turn to face Mingi, doesn't make any show of acknowledging what Mingi has asked him beyond his aborted movement.
"What?" he finally asks, genuine confusion clear in both his voice and the slightest souring of his scent.
"No, I just," Mingi says haltingly, "I nicked myself and—"
"Oh!" Yunho finally turns his chair around, eager to help as soon as Mingi admits to being in pain that Yunho can solve. "Where is it? I'll help, you know that."
Somehow, the other's obvious excitement, the willingness to help immediately is what makes Mingi realize just what it is that he's about to ask. Just where he was about to ask Yunho to lick him. Even if it's ostensibly for health and minimizing pain, Mingi cannot, will not ask him to do that.
After a long pause, he finally says, "No, actually on second thought, nevermind." He says it in a rush, looking away from Yunho's eyes to avoid seeing what he assumes is a mix of confusion and disappointment.
"What? If you're in pain…"
And he's right; Yunho sounds upset, just slightly, a bit of pout audible in his tone at being denied the opportunity to be useful in a way that he enjoys. They've talked about it before, too, about whether Yunho genuinely enjoys being able to lick their wounds better or if it he finds it somehow strange or burdensome. Mingi knows without a doubt that Yunho likes it, has always enjoyed being a steady pillar for the members' emotional struggles and finds equal satisfaction in being able to help with physical wounds as well.
That doesn't mean Mingi can ask him to lick over a scratch somewhere so incredibly intimate, however.
Mingi would never forgive himself if he tried to take advantage of Yunho's concern, to get extra physical closeness from the man he's been wanting in every way for nearly a decade. Especially not physical intimacy like what he's suggesting now.
"No, no," he says quickly, "I just realized how weird it would be."
"Weird? Why?"
He was stupid to think that would be enough for Yunho to let the idea go. Now, Mingi stays silent, arms crossed over his chest while he stares down at his feet. He tries not to shift in his seat in case that makes his sweatpants rub the wrong way again while he thinks. The silence won't make Yunho give up, he knows that, but he hopes it will give him enough time to figure out a lie that will work.
"Where's the cut, Mingi?"
His voice is flat, serious. He wants an answer, no more room for jokes or talking around the problem, and Mingi hasn't thought of any sort of believable fib in time anyway.
"It—" He cuts himself off, taking a final steadying breath before he says plainly, "It's on my dick."
The silence that follows is the one of the most awkward ones Mingi can remember over the course of their friendship, though maybe it's only Mingi that feels that way. Yunho's scent doesn't suggest that he's uncomfortable in any way, but Mingi knows his own definitely does—hints of burnt wood and ash slowly spreading throughout the normal bonfire warmth as Mingi tries and fails to sit in the silence without panicking.
Soon, it's too much to hold in any longer, the words spilling out of him in a flood of sound.
"I would never actually ask you to do that," he sputters. "I'm sorry, it was stupid."
The silence continues to stretch, Mingi's panic only growing as Yunho doesn't respond.
Mingi can hear him breathing, but no still no words.
Until finally, he speaks.
"How big is it?"
The words don't process at first, forcing Mingi into his own silence as he finally looks away from his socked feet to stare, bewildered, at Yunho.
"I mean," Yunho says, a hint of color rising to his cheeks, "does it hurt a lot? Do you need my help?"
They're both stupid, it seems. Both unwilling to sit in silence when they're stressed, both feeling a need to clarify and explain, even if that only ever seems to result in feet stuck in mouths.
"Just… for healing," Yunho says, voice losing steam the longer Mingi doesn't respond. "You won't enjoy the show if you're in pain," he adds, gesturing halfheartedly toward the monitor.
The boneheaded logic is working on him unfortunately well, and it combines with his desperate wish for the pain to stop.
Still, he can't just let Yunho agree that easily. Instinctively, despite how bad he wants the other, he still pushes back.
"…It's not… that bad," Mingi mumbles, "Just stings a lot…"
Yunho doesn't let him, though.
"Can I help?" he asks quietly, shifting his body closer to the edge of his seat. His hand reaches out slowly, tentative on its journey, but it still rests firm and steady on Mingi's knee once it does get there.
Mingi swallows thickly, eyes falling to the other's hand.
He would love for his dick to stop hurting, desperately so, and his brain is starting to fail him more and more at the prospect of getting rid of the pain in the same breath as getting Yunho's mouth anywhere near his cock. Even if it is theoretically just for pain relief, he can't help but lean into any contact Yunho is willing to give him. He does his damnedest to ignore the subtle sweet turn the other's scent is taking like it does whenever he's happy. He forces himself to assume Yunho is simply excited to help him feel better rather than indulge in the dangerous delusion that Yunho wants to get near Mingi's dick specifically.
"Let me see, Mingi," the other murmurs, and he's helpless to finally give in, powerless to push back any further. He nods dumbly and watches, wide-eyed, as Yunho slips fully off his desk chair, settling quietly on his knees at Mingi's feet.
In a show of utmost disrespect, his dick visibly twitches underneath the fabric of his sweats at the sight of Yunho on his knees. He doesn't even get a moment to be embarrassed about it, though, because the row of shallow cuts on the side of his cock almost violently rubs against the material and it makes him jolt in pain. He hisses once again, squeezing the fabric under his fingers as he breathes through it.
Immediately, both of Yunho's hands come up to rest on his waistband, Mingi's obvious pain urging him to start taking care of the wounds rather than let them bother Mingi any longer.
"Take these off," he whispers, and Mingi has no will left to do anything other than listen to Yunho so he can get relief faster. He lifts his hips one at a time as Yunho tugs at his waistband, helping him shuffle them down as he holds the center of the waistband away from his body to keep it from rubbing against him any further. They're both quickly confronted with Mingi's lack of underwear as the sweatpants fall to the floor, the tighter fabric too much for his injured skin, and Mingi doesn't have it in him to be embarrassed. Still, the sound of Yunho's breath hitching when his dick comes into view will be seared into his neocortex until his dying day.
They both stare at it, at the row of four, perfectly evenly spaced cuts about halfway up his cock, still fresh and red and visibly angry.
"What did you do, Mingi?" His voice is quiet, concern wrapped around each syllable in a reassuring embrace.
"I…" He swallows once, still trying to wrap his head around this new reality they're in, one where Yunho is looking at his cock for an extended period of time before he plans to actually touch it. "I dropped my razor in the shower," he mumbles finally, embarrassed.
Yunho hums, the pattern of the wounds more understandable now.
"Let me make it better, okay?"
That's the last warning he gets before Yunho shuffles closer on his knees, pushing Mingi's legs apart both with his body and with gentle, but insistent, hands. He settles between them like he belongs there, like it's perfectly normal for him to reach out and take Mingi's cock in a careful hand. Mingi sucks a sharp breath in through his nose at the touch, ashamed at the way he feels his traitorous cock twitch once more, but Yunho seems unfazed as he ignores the movement entirely.
He leans over Mingi's lap, getting a closer look at the scratches before he takes the leap at last, licking over the soft skin with a broad swipe of his tongue.
Immediately, Mingi's whole body jerks, and he swallows down an embarrassing whimper at the wet heat of Yunho's tongue, his eyes squeezing shut while his fingers curl tightly in the sheets behind him. The shallow cuts immediately feel warm, the way his skin always feels soothed by the other's healing touch, but it's overshadowed by the hot pulse of want that shudders through him. Shamefully, he feels blood start to rush south, this time not to leak from his clumsy wounds but instead to slowly fill his cock more and more with each lap of Yunho's tongue over his skin.
He's only licked over Mingi's skin a good four or five times, but Mingi is already half hard and horrified by it as if Yunho didn't agree to this, didn't offer to do this, even, when they both could have and should have known this would happen. Surely he can feel it with the way he's holding and licking at Mingi's cock, and Mingi doesn't know how much time he has before this whole situation blows up—either Yunho stops now that the wounds are nearly healed and Mingi doesn't get to feel his mouth on him anymore, or he keeps going and their relationship is irreparably damaged.
Before Mingi can try to make his brain work better and decide which would be worse, Yunho pulls away, and it sends a stab of anxiety through Mingi's entire body. Maybe both options are true somehow: Yunho is both going to stop now and their relationship is about to be forever ruined.
"Does that feel good?"
Mingi registers the question a beat later, but he doesn't hear it for what it really is.
"Y-yeah, um," he stutters out, trying to ignore the way his cock throbs now for entirely different reasons, silently hoping it goes down quickly if this really is the end. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"No," Yunho says immediately, and Mingi's eyes dart down to finally look at him between his legs again, his dick mortifyingly jerking again at the sight. Holding his gaze, Yunho leans down once more, just enough that his breath fans over the head of Mingi's cock when he repeats himself. "Does it feel good, Mingi?"
For a moment, the only sound in the room is Mingi's panting while he stares. Finally, though, he breathes out a shaky yeah.
"Good," Yunho murmurs, and in an instant, the head of Mingi's cock is disappearing inside his mouth with an audible slurp.
It's loud, Yunho immediately starting to bob up and down just past his head while he sucks messily. Spit dribbles past his lips so readily it can't be anything but deliberate, slick trails sliding down Mingi's cock until they reach Yunho's fingertips. His light hold tightens up as his fingers grow wetter, stroking his spit-soaked hand over Mingi's shaft. That same warmth starts spreading over his skin again, a telltale sign that the spit is still working to finish healing his stupid scratches. It's a gentle feeling, altogether different from the hot pleasure of Yunho's tongue dipping into his slit, and Mingi's mind goes haywire at the confusing sensations.
There's no denying he's fully hard now, cock pulsing in sync with his frantic heartbeat while Yunho continues to bob his head quickly. His lip aches where he's biting at it, trying stupidly to hold back any moans fighting to burst free. A stupid part of him is still scared of giving away how good Yunho is making him feel, like as soon as he does, Yunho will realize this is absolutely not something their friendship can handle, no matter how badly Mingi wishes their friendship could be ruined in place of something more.
Yunho doesn't have the same fears, it seems, pulling back enough to hold Mingi's tip in his mouth and dig his tongue into the slit again, humming as he gets a taste of the precum Mingi knows must be steadily leaking from him. It shocks a gasp out of him, his lip finally popping free from the grasp of his teeth as he sucks in a harsh breath. Yunho does it again immediately, and Mingi is helpless to hold back a throaty moan.
The moment the sound leaves Mingi's lips, Yunho pulls off of his cock and another shock of panic shoots through his chest at the idea that somehow that was in fact the final straw. Despite the way Yunho was sucking him off eagerly, despite the way he even said he wanted Mingi to feel good, Mingi panics.
But it's short-lived. As Mingi stares, slack-jawed, Yunho pulls away just to gather more spit in his mouth and lean over his cock once more to spit on it directly. His hand starts lathering the drool up and down as if his cock could somehow get any wetter than it already is.
"You're," Mingi breathes, pausing to swallow thickly while he stares at Yunho's hand on him. "You're so messy…"
His eyes flick to Yunho's face then, another quiet noise rumbling in his chest as he takes in his already puffy, red lips and the dazed way he stares at Mingi's cock right in front of him.
"Gotta make sure you're all better, yeah?" Yunho murmurs, and Mingi only has a moment to take in the slight rasp in his low voice before Yunho is swallowing him down once again, sucking Mingi's cock in until his lips meet his fist around the base.
"Fuck—" He can't help but groan at the wet heat around him once more, the warmth and tingling that usually comes along with Yunho's healing spit entirely gone now, replaced only by searing heat and pleasure. They both know Mingi's stupid wounds are long healed.
Still, Yunho continues to suck him off sloppily while his hand grips the base of his cock, as if Mingi could somehow knot right now even though he can't outside of rut. Mingi watches transfixed as Yunho bobs his head and squeezes at his cock in the same maddening rhythm, and embarrassingly, he can already feel his stomach tightening with the need to come.
At the back of his throat, though, is the lightest tickle of something sweet, something in the air that draws him in as it grows heavier. It makes him want to take in deep gulps of air until he can find its source.
The scent only grows stronger, sticky sweet starting to fill the space between them as Mingi sniffs for it stupidly, like an old cartoon character following the trail of sugary-sweet air coming off a pie until he finds where the treat is resting in a quaint window.
It's almond, he suddenly realizes, the same almond that usually floats happily above Yunho's ocean breeze of a scent when he's excited, but it's sweeter, stickier, practically candied in a way that he can't ignore.
"Y-Yunh—" He tries to get the other's attention, though he doesn't even know what he wants beyond needing to confirm that he's not somehow deluding himself, that he doesn't want Yunho to want him back so badly that his mind is making up fake scents.
But Yunho refuses to slow down, alternating between taking Mingi down as deep as he can and pulling back to suck harshly at the sensitive tip of his cock, all the while spit continues to gather at the base and cool while it soaks into his coarse hair. The sweet scent of almond in the air grows thicker and thicker by the moment, and Mingi is getting dizzy with it, all thoughts slowly being replaced by sticky marzipan sweetness instead.
His cock slips free from Yunho's lips with an obscene pop, but Yunho just takes a ragged breath before he dips his head down to lap around his own fingers on Mingi's cock and trail his tongue down until he can mouth at his heavy balls, drawn tight while Mingi gets closer and closer to coming.
"Fuck, Yunho, you," his words are cut off by a sharp gasp when Yunho pulls away from his balls just to sink over halfway down his cock once more. "You s-smell so good," he stutters, and his heart stumbles over itself when he can smell the direct effect his words have on Yunho's scent.
It's taken on an almost toffee-like tinge now, something Mingi has never, ever scented from Yunho before, like the almond has been coated in rich, deeply caramelized sugar, dark and sweet and guaranteed to stick to your teeth. He feels a tentative wave of pride well up within him at the idea that his words could do that. It only swells when Yunho tongues at his slit once more before, with a voice as thick as the caramel he smells like, he pants, "It's 'cause you taste good."
The words roll over like fire spreads over a puddle of gasoline, searing in an instant from his head down to his toes.
When Yunho finally drops his hand from the base of his cock, Mingi wants to whine but he doesn't have the time to, the sound catching in his chest before it can form because Yunho instead swallows him down to the root like it's nothing. His nose brushes the sensitive skin above his cock, his free hand now cupping his balls instead while his throat opens up for Mingi to nestle in.
Yunho only has to swallow around him once, his throat squeezing Mingi's sensitive tip, and the fire within him explodes into something white hot. His vision completely whites out as he comes without even a moment to try to warn Yunho, cum spilling down his throat in thick spurts. He can't even be sure how long it lasts, only vaguely aware of the way the shaky moans reaching his ears must be from his own mouth, only distantly aware of the feeling of something soft under his hand that he assumes is the sheets.
Yunho doesn't move at all, swallowing every last drop of what Mingi gives him, gentle hands stroking any skin he can reach while he waits for Mingi to finish. His fingers trail lightly over his thighs, down his calves, back up to slip under his shirt and run them along Mingi's soft stomach.
The soothing touches continue until Mingi finally blinks his eyes back open, the white hot fire that blinded him finally calmed to mere embers. Shivers of pleasure still shake through his thighs randomly, his breath heavy as he struggles to get his mind whirring once more. He looks down at Yunho again, body jolting for an entirely different reason when he sees the other resting his head on Mingi's thigh, cock still nestled deep in his throat.
The soft thing gripped in Mingi's fingers wasn't the sheets, it turns out, but instead Yunho's hair. He doesn't even remember moving to grab it, but he can only hope he hadn't pulled it too tightly. He loosens his hold and runs his fingers through the strands gently instead, watching as Yunho looks up at him at the soft touch. His breath hitches when he sees the glassy look in his eyes, and that, combined with the still heavy scent of sweet almond, makes his spent cock twitch one last time. With a quiet swear, just under his breath, he eases Yunho off his cock and swipes his thumb over his spit-slick lip.
"Look at you," he breathes. "Please come up here."
He reaches for the other with both hands now, stretching to get them under his arms and circled around his waist. Unknowingly, another quiet "Please," leaves his lips.
His desperation, the stupidly bad way he wants Yunho, seeps into his words in the way he can't stop pleading, but thankfully Yunho comes easily. He shifts onto his heels, pushing his weight up clumsily and letting Mingi pull him with a firm hold until he's settled in his lap. With his legs spread over Mingi's thighs, the sugary sweet arousal is only more palpable, and it makes Mingi's mouth water, eager to get a taste. His hands settle around Yunho's hips, a few brave fingertips slipping under his shirt to trace the soft skin above his waistband.
"So sweet," he whispers, one hand shifting to Yunho's back and pulling him in closer when he tries to tuck his face against Mingi's neck. "Can I touch you now?"
He's so eager to touch Yunho, to make him feel as good as he had and, if he can, get a mouthful of the sweet slick leaking from him. When Yunho nods against his neck, his nose nudging at the sensitive scent gland behind his ear, Mingi feels his hands start to shake with excitement. The hand on Yunho's back slips down, down until it reaches Yunho's ass, the one Mingi has always thought was cute and just the right size for Yunho's frame, and—oh.
Yunho whines, the sound high and embarrassed right beside Mingi's ear, and Mingi can feel how his hips are straining against the instinct to move. It's like he's caught between two options, unsure of whether he should press back into Mingi's hand or shift forward, as if that will somehow hide what Mingi's already felt.
Yunho's sopping wet, he must be literally dripping down his thighs given how much he's already soaked into his sweats, the fabric clinging to Mingi's fingers as he grabs it with more confidence.
"You…" He has to take a breath to steady himself. "You got this slick from—mmh!"
Yunho doesn't let him finish, freeing himself from Mingi's neck to press their lips together in a harsh kiss. It's not pretty; his eagerness to get Mingi to stop talking means he's moved in too quick, too hard, but Mingi melts all the same.
It doesn't matter to him that their teeth clack at first or that it takes a moment for their lips to line up properly; it's the first time he's ever gotten to kiss Yunho, to feel him like this, and it somehow makes him feel more disjointed than Yunho's mouth around his dick had. Like his body is unspooling from the inside out, tendons and muscles and veins all pulling apart like yanking a loose thread on a knit sweater.
It's the best kiss he's ever felt, no matter how rough and clumsy it is. He just hopes there will be more chances to kiss Yunho in every way possible, after the metaphorical dust settles.
Yunho pulls away then, staring at Mingi while his chest visibly heaves.
"Shut up," he pants, and Mingi can't help but chuckle under his breath.
He just kisses him again, taking the lead to keep it softer this time. This time, the kiss reknits his body back together, into a brand new Mingi that has been irrevocably changed by Yunho's touch.
He waits for Yunho to sigh into the kiss, relaxing into his arms even when he squeezes at his ass and the large wet spot covering it again, before he finally rolls the two of them over. He flips them with his hands on Yunho's waist and ass, kneeling on the bed as he leans over him. In just a moment, Yunho is flat on his back, Mingi settled between his spread legs.
Sitting back on his heels, Mingi reaches his hands out to grab Yunho's waistband, pulling his sweats down and off in a rush when Yunho presses up into his hands. His underwear come down with them, and Mingi feels a wave of scent overtake him as he tosses the clothing aside. Bright sunshine, heady salt and ocean spray, and rich, sugary sweet almond fill his lungs and his brain, and he needs a taste.
Looking down at Yunho, his mouth waters at the sheen of slick on his spread thighs and his hard cock lying against his belly where his shirt is rucked up. He realizes before he tastes his slick, there's something else he has to do first.
"Please," he says again, voice rough with need. Meeting Yunho's half-lidded gaze, he murmurs, "Let me return the favor."
Yunho makes a noise that almost sounds pained, thighs falling even further open as his eyes slip closed and he murmurs yes.
In an instant, Mingi is on him, hands starting at Yunho's knees and sliding down his thighs to keep them spread wide even as he swallows his cock entirely. He's not as long as Mingi, but his cock is nice and thick, stretching his lips to just the right side of too much.
Immediately, Yunho's thighs try to snap shut as he moans, but Mingi's hold is strong enough to keep them open for him. Fingers gripping his soft skin, Mingi can feel a hint of slick underneath his hands and it makes him moan, too, vibrating around Yunho's cock. The sheer amount of slick he's producing is unbelievable, more than Mingi knew could be possible outside of heat. It's spread to Yunho's inner thighs and even up to the base of his cock somehow, and Mingi doesn't care to imagine how soaked the sheets might be getting. With some of it getting on his hands now, he feels the urge to pull off Yunho's cock and suckle at his own fingertips, but he knows it will only be that much sweeter from the source.
He keeps bobbing his head for now, though, spurred on by the stream of needy sounds flowing freely from Yunho's mouth as he sucks him off with firm, steady pressure. Pulling up, he dips his tongue in Yunho's slit harshly, eager to taste him in any way possible, and he might be delusional, but even the precum dribbling onto his tongue seems sweet. Like it deserved to be spread over the best dessert Mingi will ever have.
It's only when he pulls back to suckle at just the head of Yunho's cock that the omega squirms against the sheets more violently, trying to thrust his hips up into Mingi's mouth. Mingi lets him slip free of his mouth instead, sloppily licking and running his lips down Yunho's shaft until he reaches the base.
"Mingi, please," Yunho whines, his voice so breathy and pretty it makes Mingi shudder, and he trails his tongue down, down until he finally gets his first taste of the slick that's found its way to Yunho's inner thighs. The syrupy taste coating his tongue triggers a deep, rumbling groan in his chest, and when he pulls back to finally get an up close look at Yunho's hole, he stares, slack-jawed, as another dribble of slick leaks out of him at the sound.
Yunho only has to press his hips up one last time, fighting against Mingi's hands to try to press into his face, and Mingi can't hold himself back anymore—not that he's been trying too hard to do so in the first place. The look and smell of Yunho laid out underneath him like a dessert buffet is too much to resist, and he leans in to start lapping at his hole, drinking in the sweet slick like a man dying of thirst.
Licking over him with broad swipes of his tongue, Mingi feels no better than a sloppy mutt and he couldn't care less. The taste floods his mouth in much the same way Yunho's voice fills his ears, broken whimpers and needy moans a near constant background noise to the sound of Mingi's messy licking and slurping.
The longer Mingi lies there, lapping up every last drop of slick that continuously leaks from Yunho's hole, the stronger Yunho strains against the hands on his thighs, trying to rut his hips up into Mingi's face. His whines grow more desperate, too, clearly needing something more, but Mingi is too slick-drunk to think about anything other than the taste of sweet almond on his tongue and the mixed scent of ocean and bonfire and sticky syrup in the air.
Suddenly, though, there's a hand in his hair, pulling tight at his scalp. Groaning at the slight sting, he picks his head up just enough to look up the long line of Yunho's body. His eyes trail up and over his soft belly, his full chest, the skin he can see all flushed petal pink. He's never been angrier at a shirt before, wishing he'd thought to rip it off before he put Yunho on his back.
"Mingi…"
His breathy voice pulls Mingi away from any thoughts of clothing-based violence, eyes meeting Yunho's dazed ones.
"Feel empty," he says quietly, but the desperation is loud as ever. "Please…"
Mingi's cock twitches harshly against the sheets as he groans again, but he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to stray far from the perfect view he has. Looking down at Yunho's hole once more, soft and wet and the prettiest pink he could imagine, he swallows around the spit welling up in his mouth again and shuffles just a touch closer on the bed. One of his hands, still splaying Yunho's thighs wide, slides up to the back of his knee so he can maneuver his leg over his shoulder instead. He wastes no time using his now free hand to press a finger to Yunho's rim, rubbing it through the slick still clinging to the skin.
Immediately, Yunho shudders, hips trying in vain to press against Mingi's finger and force it inside. Mingi is able to hold him steady with the hand still gripped around one thigh, but he presses the finger in anyway, swallowed by the slick heat in an instant.
"Oh—" Yunho gasps, sighing in relief after the sharp intake of breath. When Mingi starts to thrust his finger steadily, still more slick leaks out around it, which Mingi tracks with his eyes. His mouth waters yet again at the sight, and at the sound of slick skin on skin.
Yunho's hand, until now still held tight in Mingi's hair, finally slackens but doesn't fall away entirely. He leaves it there, loosely tangled in Mingi's hair, even as Mingi shifts slightly on the bed to get his face in close again.
He dips his head down once more, watching closely as he adds a second finger before he leans in to lick around both of them. Yunho clenches around his fingers, moaning so prettily at the slight stretch, and Mingi can feel the way his cock continues to fill out against the bed, throbbing with renewed need. He ignores it as best he can, instead putting all of his focus into thrusting and occasionally scissoring his fingers, lapping around them with his tongue the entire time.
Time slows and stretches as he lies there, nothing registering in his mind but the taste of Yunho on his tongue, the feeling of Yunho around his fingers, and the slight sting of Yunho's grip in his hair. He switches between broad swipes of his tongue and pointed circles around the rim, changing it up any time he feels Yunho's hold start to loosen so he can feel the sting of a tight grip on his scalp once more. Even the aching in his cock is only a distant thought at the back of his mind, making him rut against the bed as he continues to eat Yunho out greedily.
He continues on for minutes, Yunho's whining and squirming only getting worse, before he pulls back just enough to take a deep breath and stretch his jaw.
Panting, he whispers, "Touch yourself for me," before he dives back in.
He doesn't wait for an answer, either, scissoring his fingers and leaning in to thrust his tongue in between them. Yunho moans loudly, and Mingi can feel the moment he must take his cock in hand with the way he squeezes around his tongue and fingers.
His mind fills with fog again, a haze taking over as he starts to get his taste back on his tongue in earnest once more. The slick coating his chin and nose only grows thicker, some even making its way down his neck as he sloppily laps at it and swallows it down in greedy mouthfuls. When he adds a third finger, Yunho's heel digs into his back as he tries to pull Mingi closer despite the fact that it simply isn't possible at this point.
Curling his fingers, Mingi hears a choked off gasp above him, Yunho's hips twitching erratically before they suddenly freeze. With a long whine, Yunho comes, hole spasming around Mingi's fingers as he continues to thrust them steadily. He can't help but want to drag it out, keeping his fingers moving until the clenching finally slows to a stop.
Shivers run through Yunho's body, twitching down the line of his legs where Mingi can feel them under the hand holding his thigh, and Mingi slowly lets his fingers come to a stop when he feels them come to a stop. He eases them out, making a quiet shushing noise when Yunho whimpers at the loss of fullness.
Once his fingers are free, he can't help but lean in for a final taste of Yunho's slick, but a sudden, final gush spills over his tongue and dribbles down his chin. It's the sweetest Mingi's been lucky enough taste yet, and he can't help but keep lapping it up, licking over Yunho's still clenching hole.
Eventually, it's too much, and Yunho squirms against the slick-and-sweat-soaked sheets again. He giggles quietly, using his hold on Mingi's head to pull him away just a little as he mumbles about being ticklish now. Grinning, Mingi fights against the hold to give him one last broad lick before shifting back, gently easing Yunho's leg off of his shoulder and loosening his grip on the opposite thigh. He sits up, legs folded beneath him, and firmly rubs Yunho's hips, hoping they won't be sore later. The small puddle of cum on his stomach catches Mingi's eye, another pulse of heat stabbing through his belly and reminding him that he's hard again.
Before he can consider what to do about it, if it would be okay to ask Yunho about something more, Yunho's voice cuts off his line of thinking.
"Your face, oh my god," he says, sounding genuinely scandalized.
Immediately, Mingi feels cocky. He just grins, looking up to watch Yunho's expression as his tongue slips out to swipe over his bottom lip and get at any slick he might have missed. It's useless against just how soaked his cheeks and chin are, but he couldn't care less; he's proud of it and the way it proves how good Yunho felt with him.
Huffing a quiet laugh at the worsening flush on Yunho's cheeks, he leans over to cage Yunho against the bed again and give him a kiss that's far too soft for everything that just happened. Yunho grimaces slightly but accepts it, the twist to his lips falling away as soon as he feels Mingi's mouth against his own.
They move together easily, in sync like they've always been, even when the task at hand isn't something like choreography or playing a game. It doesn't matter; they fall into a rhythm effortlessly, the gentle affection guiding their heartrates back down into a more relaxed pace.
"Here," Mingi murmurs, pulling away to lean on one hand as he pulls his shirt up and over his head with the other. He swipes it hastily over his face and neck to clean up the mess, intending to throw it to the floor after.
Yunho has other ideas, though, watching him clean his face with wide eyes. He hesitates for just a moment before reaching for the shirt and pulling it free of Mingi's grasp. Mingi's heart shudders through a few beats, aching with fondness, as he watches Yunho tuck the shirt in between his pillows for now. The aching only gets worse when Yunho looks up at him when he's finished, lip caught between his teeth as if somehow, after all of this, that is the thing that will send Mingi running.
Mingi simply wraps an arm around Yunho's waist instead, rolling them again until he can lie down with Yunho resting on his chest, one hand on his hip and one tracing up and down his spine. He takes a deep breath through his nose, pointedly turning his head towards the hidden shirt.
"We smell good together," he murmurs, turning back just in time to see the flush on Yunho's cheeks deepen while his lips spread into a soft smile. Yunho nods, any earlier nerves clearly washed away, and starts to settle against Mingi's chest.
The silence isn't tense, isn't uncomfortable, but it is enough to make Mingi think, and thinking is sometimes his downfall.
He starts to think about where they go from here and the future of their relationship, of course, but he thinks of the past, too. The comfort that they've both always found in each other, and the way Mingi doesn't want to lose that. The way he hopes that safety he's always felt with Yunho is enough to make him brave enough to ask for more.
"What's going on up there?" Yunho asks gently, and only then does Mingi realize he's stopped rubbing his back and is just lying there, the ashen scent of nerves slowly filling his scent.
He tries to think of a nice way to ask, an eloquent way to tell Yunho how he's felt for years now, but his mind and mouth both fail him.
Despite his lyrical ability being in serious question, he doesn't want to keep Yunho waiting.
"I…" he starts, still struggling with what to say. He can't deny that what he finally comes up with is weak and too clumsily straightforward. "Can I take you out to dinner? Like… a real date."
Yunho's body goes stiff on top of his for a moment, and Mingi tries so hard not to let it overwhelm him. He isn't sure he succeeds because his scent immediately flares with something acrid in the few moments of tense silence.
But then, Yunho snorts.
His body relaxes on top of Mingi's chest again as he starts to trace winding paths across his pec and collarbone. "You're so lucky I like idiots," he says, and Mingi feels a wave of indignation well up inside of him even as the almost-acceptance of his date idea makes him grin.
"Hey!" He giggles, pulling Yunho tighter against him. "I am not an idiot, what do you mean?!"
Yunho giggles, too, propping his chin up on Mingi's chest to look at him. "Mingi, I've been in love with you for years," he murmurs. The words are enough to silence Mingi's laughter, his mouth hanging open just slightly as he stares at Yunho. "Did you really think it was just you?"
Blinking quickly, Mingi nods slightly, registering the marshmallow warmth of his own scent growing stronger with his happiness as the confession registers. "You… you too?"
Yunho just laughs again, bright and fond as he pushes up enough to kiss Mingi's slack mouth. "Me too," he whispers.
Closing his eyes, Mingi nods stupidly. "Okay, maybe," he says, "Maybe I'm an idiot specifically about you." He presses another kiss to Yunho's lips, the rollercoaster of the past hour leaving him wrung out.
Slowly, as he pulls away another thought occurs to him. "Wait, but you!"
Yunho just stares at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Me?"
"You didn't say shit either! For years!"
Cackling, Yunho hides against his chest, trying to press himself tighter against Mingi as if somehow that will help him hide.
"It's not just me, then," Mingi decides. "We're both idiots."
Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Yunho sits up again, rising up and off of Mingi's chest to look down at him. With an eyebrow raised, he looks down between them, to their naked and sticky lower halves and the way Mingi has softened a little but is still half-hard where his cock rests against his thigh.
"Okay maybe, but look where it got us," he teases.
Embarrassingly, it's enough to make Mingi's cock twitch again, but at least the movement no longer comes with pain like he did when he arrived. Yunho watches it, heat and sugar slowly rising to the top of his scent once more.
"We can fight about who's the bigger idiot later, okay?" He throws a leg fully across Mingi's hips, pulling his own shirt off and throwing it aside as he sits up fully. Straddling Mingi with his hands resting on his chest now, he says, "First, you're gonna fuck me, and then take me to dinner."
Mingi really would be an idiot to say no.