let's do it
dk/mingyu/wonwoo/the8 // explicit // #jww97gb
unofficial continuation of nisakomi's under the hood
It isn't until much later - six cities, too many hours spent in a stuffy airplane cabin, three nights in which Mingyu can hear Minghao and Wonwoo through flimsy hotel walls - that Mingyu confronts Wonwoo about the kitchen incident.
“What happened in the kitchen?” Mingyu asks Wonwoo in the empty hallway of their Bangkok hotel. Straight to the point before he can second guess himself.
Wonwoo jerks to the left, then to the right when Mingyu blocks his path, and to the left again, and then heaves a sigh. "What do you think happened in the kitchen?" he finally says, tone even, careful. His face gives nothing away.
Mingyu steps forward, crowding Wonwoo closer.
Wonwoo's head thuds against against the wall. He laughs. “Can I go? I'm tired.”
“Are you though?” Mingyu narrows his eyes. “Are you so tired that you're going to enter that room and not do-uh,” Mingyu hesitates. It feels like there's a hairball in his throat. “anything with Minghao?”
Wonwoo looks him square in the eye, his hand bunching up the collar of Mingyu's shirt so he can draw him in and say, “I don't know. I heard using a glass cup helps you listen through walls better.” His lips graze the shell of Mingyu's ear. “Do you want that, Mingyu? The full HD experience?”
“Um," Mingyu croaks, "Yes?”
//
It's after another two cities, one hundred photos of the Sydney Opera House from every possible angle Mingyu could achieve, and four rounds of the hottest sex he's ever had in all nineteen years of his life, that Seokmin walks into the hotel room he'd been sharing with Minghao in Hong Kong, and screams the place down.
He stands there with his mouth hanging open, his skin scrubbed pink and hair damp from the shower he'd been convinced to take by a very flustered looking Minghao in Soonyoung's room. He's the most overdressed in the room despite the fact that he's only got on a pair of basketball shorts. Everyone is silent.
Then, Wonwoo pulls his mouth off Mingyu's cock, rubbing his temple with the two fingers he'd used to finger himself earlier, and mutters, "Thought you said he wasn't coming back."
“I-I-” Mingyu starts. “Soonyoung…”
“Kicked me out,” Seokmin says. His mouth droops a little.
Minghao rolls his eyes. Over Wonwoo's shoulder, he mouths just let him join, Mingyu. He pushes up into Wonwoo again, hips moving lazily. A shudder runs through Wonwoo's body, and the scolding he'd been about to give, felt the need to give as the oldest in the room, dies in his throat. It's followed by a sigh, a low whine. He rocks back against Minghao.
“I'm just going to-” Seokmin says, twisting towards the door.
“NO!” Mingyu yells.
Seokmin turns back. “No?”
Wonwoo's eyes go wide. Mingyu shoves his cock back into Wonwoo's mouth, wincing when Wonwoo gags a little. He grabs a handful of Wonwoo's hair, keeping him in place. He'd be worried about being too rough if he didn't know for certain Wonwoo likes it.
“You gotta stay, Seokminnie,” Mingyu insists. Wonwoo's hand swats at his thigh, hard, but Mingyu persists, the fear of Wonwoo biting his dick off be damned. With his free hand, he swipes the air dramatically. “Can't you see it already? NO F.U.C.K: 97 Line Bang Twink Hyung in Glasses.” Mingyu is a visionary.
Mingyu watches as Seokmin contemplates the idea. His eyes run over the length of Wonwoo's body, the way his spine curves against Minghao's chest, his mouth stretched around Mingyu, cock bobbing against his belly, untouched since they began. Wonwoo glares at Seokmin as best he can with Minghao relentlessly thrusting into him, but he ends up letting out a moan, muffled by Mingyu's dick, which seems to seal the deal. “That sounds great?” Seokmin says.
He makes his way over to the double bed, kneeling hesitantly on the edge. His fingers come up to glide over Wonwoo's jaw, over his throat and collarbones, his mottled chest. He grins, almost giddily. “These look nice on you, hyung.” He presses his thumb into the largest mark on Wonwoo's chest, right above one of his nipples. Mingyu left that one. Pride swells in his chest. Seokmin's hand trails lower, hovering around Wonwoo's cock. He asks, “Can I?”
Wonwoo blinks. Nods.
Seokmin reaches out to touch.
//
Back in Seoul, the dorm emptied of the other members, Seokmin bends Wonwoo over the kitchen counter. “Fuuuuck, hyung,” he whines, burying his face into Wonwoo’s hair as he fucks into him. “Where’d you get these, anyway?” He drags his hand up the chaps Wonwoo is wearing, smacking lightly against his bare ass. Wonwoo whimpers, the sound muffled against Minghao’s belly. Mingyu sits next to Minghao on the countertop, pressing wet kisses down Minghao’s neck.
“It’s a secret,” Minghao answers. He cups Wonwoo’s chin, guiding the tip of his cock into Wonwoo’s mouth.
“Can I make the horse joke?” Seokmin pleads. He tightens his grip around Wonwoo’s hips. Wonwoo gasps. “Pleaaaase.”
“I think Wonwoo hyung would have to be riding you for you to make that joke,” Mingyu leans back to say, at the same time Minghao deadpans, “Make the goddamn horse joke, Seokmin.”
Seokmin leans forward, chest flush against Wonwoo’s back. “Hey, Wonwoo hyung?” he whispers into Wonwoo’s ear.
“No.”
“Hyung.”
“Fuck me-”
“-I am-”
Seokmin punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, and Wonwoo sounds breathy, wrecked, as he finishes, “-but keep your mouth shut.”
//
Amidst comeback preparations, Wonwoo pushes Seokmin onto the couch in the studio, clambering onto his lap. He rolls his hips against Seokmin’s, the beginnings of a laugh on his face, his nose scrunched. He leans over to drawl in Seokmin’s ear, “Giddyup.”
a/n: i literally did not need to write this
unofficial continuation of nisakomi's under the hood
It isn't until much later - six cities, too many hours spent in a stuffy airplane cabin, three nights in which Mingyu can hear Minghao and Wonwoo through flimsy hotel walls - that Mingyu confronts Wonwoo about the kitchen incident.
“What happened in the kitchen?” Mingyu asks Wonwoo in the empty hallway of their Bangkok hotel. Straight to the point before he can second guess himself.
Wonwoo jerks to the left, then to the right when Mingyu blocks his path, and to the left again, and then heaves a sigh. "What do you think happened in the kitchen?" he finally says, tone even, careful. His face gives nothing away.
Mingyu steps forward, crowding Wonwoo closer.
Wonwoo's head thuds against against the wall. He laughs. “Can I go? I'm tired.”
“Are you though?” Mingyu narrows his eyes. “Are you so tired that you're going to enter that room and not do-uh,” Mingyu hesitates. It feels like there's a hairball in his throat. “anything with Minghao?”
Wonwoo looks him square in the eye, his hand bunching up the collar of Mingyu's shirt so he can draw him in and say, “I don't know. I heard using a glass cup helps you listen through walls better.” His lips graze the shell of Mingyu's ear. “Do you want that, Mingyu? The full HD experience?”
“Um," Mingyu croaks, "Yes?”
//
It's after another two cities, one hundred photos of the Sydney Opera House from every possible angle Mingyu could achieve, and four rounds of the hottest sex he's ever had in all nineteen years of his life, that Seokmin walks into the hotel room he'd been sharing with Minghao in Hong Kong, and screams the place down.
He stands there with his mouth hanging open, his skin scrubbed pink and hair damp from the shower he'd been convinced to take by a very flustered looking Minghao in Soonyoung's room. He's the most overdressed in the room despite the fact that he's only got on a pair of basketball shorts. Everyone is silent.
Then, Wonwoo pulls his mouth off Mingyu's cock, rubbing his temple with the two fingers he'd used to finger himself earlier, and mutters, "Thought you said he wasn't coming back."
“I-I-” Mingyu starts. “Soonyoung…”
“Kicked me out,” Seokmin says. His mouth droops a little.
Minghao rolls his eyes. Over Wonwoo's shoulder, he mouths just let him join, Mingyu. He pushes up into Wonwoo again, hips moving lazily. A shudder runs through Wonwoo's body, and the scolding he'd been about to give, felt the need to give as the oldest in the room, dies in his throat. It's followed by a sigh, a low whine. He rocks back against Minghao.
“I'm just going to-” Seokmin says, twisting towards the door.
“NO!” Mingyu yells.
Seokmin turns back. “No?”
Wonwoo's eyes go wide. Mingyu shoves his cock back into Wonwoo's mouth, wincing when Wonwoo gags a little. He grabs a handful of Wonwoo's hair, keeping him in place. He'd be worried about being too rough if he didn't know for certain Wonwoo likes it.
“You gotta stay, Seokminnie,” Mingyu insists. Wonwoo's hand swats at his thigh, hard, but Mingyu persists, the fear of Wonwoo biting his dick off be damned. With his free hand, he swipes the air dramatically. “Can't you see it already? NO F.U.C.K: 97 Line Bang Twink Hyung in Glasses.” Mingyu is a visionary.
Mingyu watches as Seokmin contemplates the idea. His eyes run over the length of Wonwoo's body, the way his spine curves against Minghao's chest, his mouth stretched around Mingyu, cock bobbing against his belly, untouched since they began. Wonwoo glares at Seokmin as best he can with Minghao relentlessly thrusting into him, but he ends up letting out a moan, muffled by Mingyu's dick, which seems to seal the deal. “That sounds great?” Seokmin says.
He makes his way over to the double bed, kneeling hesitantly on the edge. His fingers come up to glide over Wonwoo's jaw, over his throat and collarbones, his mottled chest. He grins, almost giddily. “These look nice on you, hyung.” He presses his thumb into the largest mark on Wonwoo's chest, right above one of his nipples. Mingyu left that one. Pride swells in his chest. Seokmin's hand trails lower, hovering around Wonwoo's cock. He asks, “Can I?”
Wonwoo blinks. Nods.
Seokmin reaches out to touch.
//
Back in Seoul, the dorm emptied of the other members, Seokmin bends Wonwoo over the kitchen counter. “Fuuuuck, hyung,” he whines, burying his face into Wonwoo’s hair as he fucks into him. “Where’d you get these, anyway?” He drags his hand up the chaps Wonwoo is wearing, smacking lightly against his bare ass. Wonwoo whimpers, the sound muffled against Minghao’s belly. Mingyu sits next to Minghao on the countertop, pressing wet kisses down Minghao’s neck.
“It’s a secret,” Minghao answers. He cups Wonwoo’s chin, guiding the tip of his cock into Wonwoo’s mouth.
“Can I make the horse joke?” Seokmin pleads. He tightens his grip around Wonwoo’s hips. Wonwoo gasps. “Pleaaaase.”
“I think Wonwoo hyung would have to be riding you for you to make that joke,” Mingyu leans back to say, at the same time Minghao deadpans, “Make the goddamn horse joke, Seokmin.”
Seokmin leans forward, chest flush against Wonwoo’s back. “Hey, Wonwoo hyung?” he whispers into Wonwoo’s ear.
“No.”
“Hyung.”
“Fuck me-”
“-I am-”
Seokmin punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, and Wonwoo sounds breathy, wrecked, as he finishes, “-but keep your mouth shut.”
//
Amidst comeback preparations, Wonwoo pushes Seokmin onto the couch in the studio, clambering onto his lap. He rolls his hips against Seokmin’s, the beginnings of a laugh on his face, his nose scrunched. He leans over to drawl in Seokmin’s ear, “Giddyup.”
a/n: i literally did not need to write this