"Leaks"
Title: Leaks
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: 2min, implied JongKey
Notes: I DID MOST OF THIS AT WORK LOL. It’s fluffy smut. I don’t know how to write it any other way. :( I didn’t really expect it to go this way, but when I started this, I had no idea where it was going anyway, rofl. Also sorry for the repeat ‘late night’ scenario that I’ve done like THREE TIMES but… idk. No real excuse I guess. I just suck. And I’ll be honest; I think my smut is mediocre. I prefer teeth-rotting sweetness and humor :| Holy shit this is long.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It was interesting, how one would be completely oblivious to annoyances until it was the only thing to focus on. Jonghyun had been complaining that the faucet was leaky, and oddly enough, Key had been the one to deny it, claiming that his kitchen was flawless and that the vocalist had just had one too many blasts to the eardrums… now with that claim in mind, maybe it wasn’t so odd for Key to shoot down the idea. After all, the mere suggestion that something he involved himself in was anything less than perfect was a sin in itself.
Good thing Choi Minho was a sinner.
His injury had been bothering him that evening, and so he’d opted to lie out on the sofa for the night, lest his excessive shifting or pained grunts disturb anyone. The rapper would have been perfectly content to just watch television until he passed out on the couch. Out of courtesy for his group mates, the flickering pictures were muted. Due to the lack of noise however, the more subtle ones became less… well… subtle. “… He was right.” Minho mumbled under his breath. It wasn’t as if there was anyone awake to talk to at that hour, but it made him feel less lonely. Unfortunately, his imaginary friend was incapable of helping him with any kind of labor the sink would require.
Unable to stand the monotonous dripping any longer, Minho slowly rotated his body to get up to his feet. It took a bit more effort than it normally did, but you couldn’t be too hard on the guy: it was late, he was worn out, and he was down a leg. He limped into the kitchen, pressing his hands against the counter top and glaring daggers at the slowly dripping plumbing. If the fire in his eyes had been able to physically manifest, the whole faucet would have welded itself shut. Choi Minho was many things: a rapper, an athlete, a model, and a growing singer, among others. Unfortunately, ‘mechanically inclined’ wasn’t on that list. He understood that turning the handle one way made water come out, and turning it the other way made it stop. “… how do I fix this thing… ?”
Thus, the obvious method was the first on his list. With a firm grip, the handle was twisted. It did in fact budge a small bit, and for a moment, Minho thought the solution really was that simple. It was even silent for a whole two seconds… but a time frame would imply that it wasn’t a permanent solution.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He cringed. Every second he spent stressing out over this was one less second of sleep he’d be getting that night. Though, at this rate, with that sound, he wouldn’t be getting much anyway. “… hyung?” He’d have been a bit more startled by the sudden break of silence, if he hadn’t been so goddamn tired. Besides, he already knew who it was. He glanced sleepily over his shoulder, taking in the figure of an equally sleepy maknae. The way Taemin looked minutes after waking was so adorable that it was almost disgusting. His hair was a mess, and his clothing was excessively twisted; a rough night for him as well perhaps? He shifted the heart-print pajama pants back into place, leaving the white tee alone, and topped off the cute appearance with a drawn out yawn. “What are you doing awake…?”
“Could ask you the same.” The taller gingerly turned his body, now leaning back with his elbows on the counter to face the other. Taemin only smiled in response, and that small action spoke more than a whole drawn out story could have. He hadn’t slept a wink either, and Minho had narrowed it down to two possibilities: either the dancer had been driven insane by the continual drip as well, or Jinki had rolled into his bed again. “… Can’t get this thing to shut off.” He commented, turning once more to face the sink, as if a second session of glaring would scare the plumbing into fixing itself. Padding softly up behind the taller, Taemin rest his chin on Minho’s shoulder, glancing down at his fruitless ‘attempts’ to bring the dripping to an end.
Without a single word, the maknae reached around the others broad shoulders, settling his hand on the handle. “I tried that,” Minho threw in. Taemin hummed, but continued, and Minho could only watch. With a twist, the water came on in a single, powerful stream, and just as quickly as it had shot out, it was off again.
Drip. Drip… Drip… Drip…
Silence.
“Sometimes,” Taemin began, “you just have to jiggle it a little.” Minho wasn’t sure if he was happy to finally have some peace, or annoyed that the solution had been that simple and he still managed to over look it. He’d been told before that sometimes, all you needed was another set of eyes to look at something. That may have been the case, but the way Taemin had picked his words made this whole thing sound extremely… staged. The rapper hummed, but in terms of snarky commentary, kept his lips sealed. Taemin stepped back, allowing the other to turn once again. Even if he wished he could have fixed the problem himself, he was grateful for Taemin’s assistance, giving the boy an affectionate ruffle to his already messed hair.
The youth once again proved himself useful as a crutch, allowing Minho to limp that much faster back to the couch to lay down. He sighed, the mute pictures still flickering across the television screen. He’d expected to just spend the rest of the night by himself, but Taemin remained in the livingroom, also watching whatever late night infomercial decided to play. “You should sleep,” The rapper said, head tilted far enough back on the arm of the couch to capture an upside-down view of the maknae. Taemin paused, sleepy eyes shifting towards the bedroom hall, then back to the TV, giving a silent shrug. That confirmed it: his bed was occupied by a sprawled out, unconscious Jinki. They all adored their leader, but once he passed out, it was hell to get him up again.
After a moment’s hesitation and an amused smile, Minho shifted in his seat. Taemin reached out to him in an attempt to make him stay put, but was completely ignored. Upright with his injured leg outstretched on the table, he set his eyes on the youth, patting at the open spot beside him. Like a puppy called over by his master, Taemin was instantly in the invited spot, Minho’s arm instinctively draping over the smaller boys shoulders. “You should too.” The maknae spoke, resulting in a pair of sleepy eyes shifting sideways to glance at him. Silence fell between them, and finally, Minho shrugged.
“I’ve been trying.” He started, “but I can only block out noise for so long.
Taemin smiled. “Jonghyun-hyung does snore really loud huh?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he choked out through stifled laughter. It wasn’t what he was referring too, but Taemin was right. Sometimes Minho was forced out onto the couch simply because he couldn’t stand to listen to the vocalist’s chainsaw imitation for more than twelve seconds. The dancer snuggled up to the taller boy and let a content sigh. The athlete had planned on commenting further, but the sudden silence from his friend had caused him to glance down out of curiosity. Taemin’s eyes were shut, and his chest lifted and fell in steady rhythm. Just like that, he’d fallen asleep. A crooked smile formed on the rappers face, and with a surprisingly gentle touch, Minho brushed a stray piece of hair from the angelic visage.
‘Jaljayo.’
--
Minho twitched.
He’d been dreaming something, but the images were quickly leaving his mind as he was pulled closer and closer back to consciousness. “… -ho!” He grumbled something incoherent and tried to roll away from the sounds, giving one last effort to cling onto the fleeting images in his head. However, an unseen weight (he’d yet to open his eyes, after all) kept him firmly in place. “Oi!” Gone. The only thing Minho could see now were the underside of his eyelids. The heavy lids opened to set a fiery glare upon a looming Jonghyun. Seemingly unphased by Minho’s sleep deprived rage, the vocalist grinned ear to ear and waved down at the waking body. “Good morning!” Minho said nothing, eyes instead shifting downward to examine the source of his immobility. At some point during the night, he’d returned to lying on his back, and Taemin had adjusted by sprawling out on top of him. How he didn’t notice it early and wake up from the movement, he wasn’t sure… but whatever. Taemin was an excellent source of body heat. “We’re going out for breakfast. Key said it was cheaper than grocery shopping right now. Do you want anything?”
Minho was half tempted just to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t really pass up free food. Even though his leg hurt less this morning, it didn’t mean he was looking forward to getting up and preparing breakfast for himself, and possibly Taemin, unless the maknae woke up within the next four minutes. “… That would be nice.” Before his hyung could unload a flurry of questions as to what he wanted and how much, Minho continued. His brain couldn’t process so many questions so shortly after waking up. “… I’ll just have whatever you guys pick up.” Sure, there were risks involved by allowing such freedom, but if nothing else, Minho knew he could trust Key to pick out something edible. Jonghyun, now also looking at the sleeping mass on Minho’s chest, simply shrugged.
“See you in an hour or so then. Get up and do something - it’s bad for you to sleep in late.”
He was about to spit some kind of witty retort, then decided he simply didn’t have the energy. Thus, Minho just let out a tired sigh and gave a half-hearted wave. As one body left, another entered. Key tilted his head to the side, pressing his hands on the couch and leaning over to look at the two youths. When Minho glanced up, Key’s attention was clearly favoring the sleeping boy. Ever the caring umma, it didn’t take long for the favoritism to be explained. “He hasn’t been sleeping well these past few nights,” The younger rapper was silent, waiting for Key to continue. “He’s up and about a lot at weird hours. I hear him sometimes. ” Another pause, and the diva smiled. “I’m glad to see he finally got some rest.”
“It was probably that damn faucet.”
A high-class stank-face that would make even the bitchiest of girls jealous was provided by the Almighty. “It doesn’t leak.”
Minho smiled, lazily holding his hands up in defense, then bringing one finger to his lips to remind Key of the sleeping body on top of him. With a huff and a hair flip, Key followed after Jonghyun, and Jinki who was long out the door. ‘It doesn’t anymore.’ His lips were sealed until finally the click of the shutting door was heard. With a sigh of relief, Minho let his head slump back onto the cushion. Jonghyun was right; he probably should have gotten up and worked his leg a bit, but hell, he was tired, and he really didn’t want to wake up Taemin. If what Key said was true - and it probably was - Taemin had a lot of sleep to catch up on.
As if he were afraid of breaking the sleeping maknae, Minho gently stroked the youngers hair with his fingertips. He hadn’t really made it a priority to play with Taemin’s hair, but the tresses were so soft that he may have had to work that into his schedule. His hand froze when the maknae shifted, letting out a cute noise and stretching his arms above his head, only to have them lock underneath Minho’s shoulders. The rapper blinked, unsure of whether or not it was safe to move again. “… Good morning hyung.”
Well… that pretty much answered his question. “Morning.” Taemin’s head lifted enough so that he could look at the older boy, smile, and lay it down once again. ‘That’s fine… I didn’t want to get up anyway.’ In truth, he kind of had to pee, but he supposed he could put the call of nature on hold, as long as Taemin didn’t decide to roll over and lay on his bladder. While bodily functions could be put at bay, his increasing boredom could not. Sleep was good, but only to an extent. His hands slid to the other boys spine, and started drumming on the vertebrae, each hit in time with the tune leaving his mouth. “… La la la, na tata TOP,” Taemin giggled and squirmed, “Hey, hey, mani nae TOP~”
“Stoooop!” The overload of aegyo only motivated Minho to continue. Digits moved from spine to hips, and soon enough Taemin was squealing with laughter. He nearly fell off the couch, but the older boy had decent special reasoning, and as he was rolling, strong arms wrapped tightly around him and held him in place. “Hyuuung,” he whined, “let me sleeeep.” The rapper sighed, head slumping back against the couch in defeat. “… where’s everyone else?”
“Out shopping for breakfast. Get up.” Taemin groaned, but Minho was much less forgiving this time, twisting sideways so that the maknae slid off of his body, and dropped to the floor. Thankfully, the dancer had enough grace to catch himself, even in his half-awake state. The fallen boy pouted, where Minho simply smiled down at him, sitting upright and stretching his arms over his head. Cautiously avoiding the maknae as he stood, the older boy finally managed to get to his feet, limping over to the bathroom to do what needed to be done.
A few minutes later, the rapper was much more comfortable. Hands were washed, and when he left the bathroom, Taemin was no longer on the floor… which was good he supposed, though it wouldn’t have surprised him too much if he’d come back to see the other boy curled up in a stray blanket and catching a few more minutes of sleep. But no, the kitchen faucet was running, and Taemin was in front of it filling a glass before quickly downing half of its contents. “Key said you haven’t been sleeping much,” there was no warning before his speech, causing Taemin to jump and nearly drop the glass. Before he could reply, the item was taken from his grasp, and Minho helped himself to the water that was left.
“… Ah… yeah…” The boy was blinking more than was normal, and an arched brow from Minho was the silent command to continue. While he usually wasn’t one to pry into anothers business, the fact that Taemin wasn’t coming out and telling him what the issue was made him wonder if it hit on a more personal level. If it had to do with more bullying… well… Minho didn’t really know what he would do. But chances were it would end in a law suit. “… I’ve had a lot on my mind I guess.” A smile was given to try and push the topic away, but Minho would not be so easily swayed.
He pulled the cup from his lips, placing it beneath the faucet and filling it once again. “… Like?” Taemin’s smile fell from his face, and instead the whole of his face was covered by a light blush, growing deeper with each passing second of awkward silence. Minho grinned. “Girl trouble?”
“YEAH!” Minho choked. “Yeah. Girl problems.” As he coughed up his vital organs, the rapper felt a surprising amount of jealousy and possessiveness. Yes, he and Taemin were close, probably more so than they let others believe. Skinship was almost automatic, and a few awkward kisses had even been shared in privacy, but even with all of that in mind, he wouldn’t call Taemin ‘his.’ He’d originally called it a mix of brotherly love and hormones. Now… he wasn’t so sure. With his lungs finally realizing that they couldn’t breathe water, Minho inhaled deeply, filling his tortured organs with sweet non-liquidated oxygen.
When he regained his composure, he found the maknae to be nowhere in sight. Clearly he’d used Minho’s moment of asphyxiation to make a get-away. Well, there were only so many places he could hide. Silently, the rapper opened the dishwasher, setting the glass in the device and closing it. He probably could have just rinsed, dried and stuck it back in the cabinet. It was just water after all… but that whole topic was completely irrelevant. Hobbling out of the kitchen, Minho hummed and scratched his head. No Taemin in the living room… but he did realize he’d neglected to shut off the TV. He flipped the switch in passing, eyes scanning the narrow hallway. He nudged the bathroom door with his foot, and found that it opened with no resistance. No Taemin here.
Both bedroom doors were shut. Reasonable, since the overflowing sexual tension between Jonghyun and Key caused some interesting scenarios. The Diva borrowed clothes with no intention of returning them, and ever since Taemin had started complaining that the room smelled funny after leaving the two alone, Jinki had taken the liberty of locking the door once they were all awake. Since he was fairly sure their leader had the only key to the room and didn’t care to mention the location of the spare, that left one option.
“Taeminnie.” Minho knocked on the door belonging to, interestingly enough, his own room shared with Jonghyun. No response. “what’s wrong?” Still silent. However, he could here movement on the other side. “… Tae.”
“I’m just tired and laying down,”
“Taemin,” With a large variety of playful nicknames, it wasn’t very often that he used the others full name. “You locked yourself in my room.” And Jonghyun’s. “Do you think I can’t get myself in?” He couldn’t. Jonghyun had the key. Thankfully, Taemin didn’t know that, and the serious tone in Minho’s voice seemed to be all the convincing the younger performer needed.
Shuffe, shuffle… click… shuffle.
He didn’t wait long before pushing the door open, catching the ending motion of Taemin bouncing back onto his - Minho’s - bed. His story didn’t seem too farfetched; Minho’s pillow was indented where a head had clearly been lying, and the boy was wrapped tightly in what seemed to be every blanket he could get his hands on. He remained silent, burying himself deeper into the sheets as Minho limped across the room, sitting beside him. “… You don’t have girl problems.” It wasn’t a question, and Taemin knew that. Slowly, he nodded his head. “School?” He shook his head. “Stress?” He paused, shrugged, but in the end shook his head. “… Is Jonghyun-hyung biting you at night?” The dancer brought a hand to his mouth to try to hide the developing smile, but again, shook his head. Well, now that he’d at least gotten a laugh out of him, maybe things would come easier. “Then what?”
That dusting of rose once again scattered itself around Taemin’s cheek bones. The difference this time was that there was no water for Minho to choke on, and the layers of sheets would cause a very clumsy escape. He was stuck. Taking in a deep breath, Taemin began. “I’ve… been having weird dreams.” Minho arched a brow. That was it? Were they nightmares? He bit his lip to keep himself silent, allowing Taemin to continue talking. “They… keep… me up at night. I can’t get back to sleep after I have them.” The second brow on the rappers face lifted, and suddenly, all of the pieces fit. Yes, it would make sense for the boy to be kept up by nightmares, but if he were terrified by them, then why did he seem so embarrassed?
Those kind of dreams.
Minho swallowed the lump in his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, Tae, they’re… uh… it’s natural for that to happen… and I’d say, just… do what you gotta do. Unwind, relax, lay back down until you-”
“They’re about you hyung,” His body stiffened, and all the rapper could do was stare. Taemin’s face grew darker with each passing second, and his body sunk lower into his bedded cocoon. With that much already out, Taemin seemed to feel it was best to just spill it all. “Sometimes I can get back to sleep because they’re not… not… intense… but,” You could barely even see the boys face anymore with how far he’d slipped, “Sometimes… I can’t… I can’t get the images out of my head… my skin feels hot because I keep seeing you above me… I keep feeling your hands running over my body… I keep-”
“Tae.”
The boy beneath the blankets trembled. “I’m sorry hyung… ” his voice quivered along with his frame. If he could still see his face, Minho was sure he’d have tears in his eyes. “Don’t be mad… please… I didn’t mean to…” This was a delicate subject, and thus, needed to be handled with caution. Minho extended his arms - just as shaky as the others body, he noted - and wrapped his arms tightly around the hidden boy. Slowly, he began to pull at the blanket. “If I could stop, I would but-” before he knew it, the maknae was exposed once more, and his barricade of bedding was thrown onto the floor. As suspected, his cheeks were wet with recently fallen tears. “- I don’t know-” he was silenced by a pair of lips pressed to his own, half telling him that there was no need to be so worried, and half telling him to shut up.
It was nothing like the chaste kisses on the cheek, or the clumsy few that had been shared behind closed doors. Minho’s lips felt like they were on fire, and as he felt the smaller boy mewl against his mouth, his whole body began to take on the heat. Delicate subject indeed, and just as dangerous to linger in too long. His body was screaming at him to keep moving, but reason and genuine concern eventually won over, resulting in the rapper to pull back, hands on the youths shoulders. “… I was scared of freaking you out and avoiding me…”
Minho sighed, but he couldn’t help but smile a small bit. “I’m not going anywhere Taeminnie.”
“… then why did you stop?”
This time, Minho was the one to have blood rush to his face. He was sure the standard procedure was ‘take it slow’ - ask a few times ‘do you really want to do this?’ But holy hell, Taemin had basically begged to act out the dreams that kept him awake, and that pleading look in his eye snapped every strand of self control Minho had left. Well fuck, he definitely didn’t need to be asked twice. The resting hands pulled the smaller boy forward, sealing their lips once more. He tried his hardest to be gentle, but with each little taste; with each little touch, they became more hot and needy. Curious hands wandered and soon found the need to explore the uncharted territory beneath Taemin’s shirt, causing the boy to shudder and release the most beautiful noises Minho had ever heard. It didn’t take long for Minho to conclude that the other boy was wearing far too much clothing.
With little warming, his hands slipped out just enough to hook his thumbs on the hem of the fabric, quickly sliding it up and over Taemin’s head. For easier removal, the boy lifted his arms up, and soon enough, the garment was on the floor with the scattered sheets. It wasn’t as if this were the first time he’d seen Taemin without a shirt, but it was somehow… different this time. His eyes took in every inch of the smooth plane, and it wasn’t until Taemin tugged at his sleeve that he remembered what was going on. Ah yes - ravaging the maknae.
Though he was still nervous about the whole thing, instinct and common sense told him this wasn’t going to go anywhere with butterfly kisses and clumsy touches. Their lips locked hotly once more, and previously mentioned instinct told the rapper that everything would go much smoother if the other boy were to lie on his back. Settling his hands on the maknae’s waist, Minho pushed forward a bit more, and it was all Taemin needed to clearly get the message. Daring to be bold, the older male let his tongue slip out, teasing the others lower lip. Curiously the smaller of the two own tongue came forth to slide against his in greeting. It was sloppy, but neither of them were particularly experienced.
It seemed that each action caused Taemin’s confidence to grow, and soon enough, it became clear that the maknae didn’t think it was fair that only he was half-naked. His hands were still trembling oh so slightly, but the tugs and fumbling grip at his t-shirt resulted in assistance from the older boy. Daring to break the contact they shared for just a moment, Minho sat up, tugged his shirt off, and cast it aside to join the others before picking up right where they left off. His knee shifted up between the other boys legs, causing the maknae’s breath to catch in his throat and instead exhale as a needy moan. That noise was like lightning down his spine, and it was made very obvious to Minho that, yes, clothing was becoming extremely problematic.
“Hy-..ung…” He took to exploring other places on the younger’s body; his hands toying at the drawstring on the boys pajama pants, while his lips left hot marks on the delicate skin of his neck. Taemin could be a brat sometimes, and while Minho was sure he wasn’t as innocent as his appearance gave him out to be, with flushed skin, strands of silken tresses sticking to his forehead, and his name sticking to dry lips… Taemin was absolutely beautiful right now, and part of Minho’s mentality couldn’t determine whether this was a good idea. Things were going to change afterwards, that much was obvious, but were the urges just urges, or would this angel keep him company every time the faucet decided to leak? A collection of blunt nails raked down his slickening back.
He supposed he’d find out later. Someone was getting impatient.
His response was to nip at the skin just above the others clavicle, well aware of the mark that would leave and, at the same time, not really caring. Though it took a bit of effort, the string was finally undone, and the obnoxious sleepwear was tugged down, Taemin being kind enough to lift his hips to assist in the removal. The pile of clothes was ever growing, the maknae seemingly eager to help as he sat himself up, though as he settled his fingers around the elastic of Minho’s sweatpants, his hands began to tremble even more, and for a moment, he seemed frozen. With a soft smile, the older took both hands in his own, lifting them and placing a kiss to the back of each. “… Take your time Tae.”
Taemin swallowed, but the bit of reassurance seemed to be working. He nodded, Minho releasing the appendages before placing a sweet kiss to the maknae’s forehead. Before he could pull completely away, the younger tipped his head back and pushed forward, stealing a kiss and nuzzling himself into the rappers neck. He was under the assumption that cuddling came after sex, but Minho supposed that a small bit in between wasn’t really a bad thing. He slid his hands down the other boys spine, right as he felt the teeth nip at his neck. It caught him completely off guard and reminded him just how much of a little shit Taemin could be. Either way, the stifled groan was evidence enough that he definitely didn’t mind.
If the stillness in his hands was any evidence, Taemin had gotten his confidence back, and soon enough Minho’s sweatpants were down by his knees, kicked off only seconds later. It was painfully slow by the standards of most, and yeah, Minho would agree that it was getting to the point of being painful, but there’d been a silent agreement to take it slow, and thus, if it took two hours to get naked, then he guessed he’d just have to learn to deal with his throbbing arousal for the next few tormenting fragments of time. That was, of course, if he wasn’t driven over just by feeling the boy squirm beneath him and making those amazing noises.
“Hyung,” Taemin breathed. Minho’s fingertip had slipped below the elastic of the last garment on the others body, and though he was overly eager to continue, he stopped himself to let Taemin know he was listening. “Y… Your leg…?” The older boy was silent. He wasn’t as bad off as he was yesterday, and yes, it did still sting a bit, but goddamnit, why was Taemin bringing it up now? His brow furrowed, but it didn’t even take a full two seconds of contemplation before he drew a conclusion.
It was so worth it.
“Don’t worry about it.” With the question answered he continued on with his task, ‘accidently’ brushing the clothed erection and causing the youth to buck his hips. Another article of clothing was added to their collection, and though he wanted to take in the breathtaking figure before him, he didn’t want his lover to feel overly self-conscious about his current condition. Thus, as soon as he was finished, he set to removing his own undergarments. It also seemed that, despite still being a bit timid, Taemin proved himself to be the perpetual Hyung Pleaser; another set of hands caused the removal of clothing to go much faster.
An unusual sensation of innocence washed over him; a brief flickering thought of ‘now what?’ Sure, it was a question he already knew the answer to, but he dreaded the thought of doing even the slightest thing to upset Taemin, or worse yet, hurt him. “… Hyung?” Minho blinked. It was at that point that he realized he’d been staring. “You’re embarrassing me…” The older of the two gave a slightly awkward smile, lightly sweeping the messed hair from Taemin’s features and cupping his face in his hands.
“Sorry,” he mumbled leaning in and tasting the kiss swollen lips. “It’s hard not to stare,” The words were delivered directly into Taemin’s ear, and he could literally feel the heat radiating off of the others cheeks. He ran his tongue over the shell of his ear, each hitched breath and shuddering mewl absolute music to his ears. Fingertips ghosted along the subtle definition of the youths body, reminding Minho just how tiny his lover was. Seconds seemed like hours, but his destination was reached, rewarded by another pleasured sound as his fingers wrapped around the smaller boys arousal. With the squirming and his own hammering pulse, it was hard to set a rhythm, but one was picked up soon enough.
His name was barely audible, but it was indeed falling from the others lips at the end of each desperate breath. Pleased with himself, Minho allowed a sly smile to cross his face, sliding his thumb along the tip of his lover’s cock and smearing the bead of precum along both plains of skin. He dared to remove his hand for a moment - very much against Taemin’s will - and licked the creamy substance from his digit. It was a bit sweeter than he expected, possibly from all the banana milk in the maknae’s system, but he still wasn’t sure if he cared for the flavor or not. Even if he didn’t, he could tolerate it every now and again if it got that wonderful blush to lift onto the younger’s face.
For a moment, his brow furrowed. Lubrication wasn’t exactly something he kept on hand, and the thought of using any that Jonghyun kept on hand kind of… terrified him. Well, there were alternatives. Something on hand just would have been more convenient and probably would have made the job go that much smoother. “Taemin,” he began, resulting in a cute smile and the youth tilting his head to one side. “are you really okay with this?” Truthfully, if the other dared to say No, ‘tough shit’ would have been the next thing out of SHINee’s Flaming Charisma. Wordlessly, Taemin took Minho’s right hand in both of his, touching the fingertips to his bottom lip, mouthing a silent ‘I trust you Hyung.’
With breathless consent, two fingers were brought into the maknae’s mouth, and Minho could only imagine where Taemin had learned to do such incredible things with his tongue. The rappers eyes became half-lidded, completely losing himself in the heat that shot from his fingertips all the way to his elbow. Needless to say, it wasn’t his fingers that he wanted in Taemin’s mouth right now… but that would have to wait until the dancer was a bit more comfortable with the whole idea. After a thoroughly enjoyable moment, Minho removed his fingers, examining them and found them satisfactorily coated.
“Just… let me know if it hurts,” he’d never done anything like this before, and he was fairly sure Taemin was just as much a virgin, but common sense told him that this probably wasn’t the most comfortable experience to begin with. Slipping his hand down between the maknaes legs, the first digit probed and slid inside his entrance, and instantly he grew concerned. If Taemin was this tight around his finger, how was he going to fit, if at all? He hesitated, taking note of the evident discomfort on Taemin’s face. He gave him a moment to adjust, and as soon as the expression on his lovers face eased, he wiggled the digit around before inserting a second. He feathered kisses along the smooth abdomen, loving how the boy’s body arched with each bit of contact. The digits were scissored; the final bit of prep before both were removed.
He hiked the younger boys legs up onto his hips, positioning himself at his entrance, running a soothing hand along his lovers stomach and chest. “Relax.” With Taemin’s arms looped around his shoulders, Minho slowly eased himself in. It was a losing situation: either he could go quick and possibly make the boy bleed, or go slow and just make him hurt that much longer. Nails bit into the back of his neck and Minho winced, his arms shaking from how unbelievably tight Taemin was. Tears welled at the corner of the boys eyes, and he was quick to kiss them away in silent apology. He waited patiently for his lover to stop quivering, and as soon as both were comfortable, he moved.
Slowly at first, even though his mind was screaming at him to ram the boy so hard that the headboard cracked the wall. Primal urge was a hard thing to fight, but thankfully, his overall affection for the maknae was even harder to overthrow. He breathed heavily into the others ear, their cheeks pressed tightly to one another as finally, Minho was able to find a steady rhythm for them to follow. Their bodies slickened with sweat, making their movement even more fluid. “Harder.” The voice was hot and breathy in his ear and Minho really didn’t have any idea that Taemin was capable of such a commanding tone. What else could he do but oblige?
Teasing the lobe of the maknea’s ear with his tongue, the older boy pulled his hips back before thrusting deeply back in. The moan that escaped his mouth sounded vaguely like the rappers name, Taemin’s body arching beautifully as he wrapped his legs around Minho’s waist, pulling him in even deeper. Pleased with the results, he figured he was doing something right. Again, that spot deep inside the small boy was struck, causing another pleasured cry to bounce off the walls. Suddenly both boys found themselves extremely grateful that A) they had no neighbors, and B) no one was home. Then again, if there was another body in the house, it probably wouldn’t have progressed this far to begin with.
Their group mates would have to go out to breakfast more often.
“H-hyu…-” He couldn’t even finish his words. It was a compliment, he supposed, that he’d left the maknae winded and his throat raw, but at the same time he felt bad. Then again, it wasn’t his fault that Taemin was a screamer. “I’m… c-..” another breathy moan, but enough was said for Minho to get the general idea. While one hand remained at Taemin’s hip, the unoccupied slid to his neglected arousal, fingers looping around the shaft and pumping in time with his thrusts. Each touch put his skin on fire, and each thrust became harder to keep time with as the boy writhed below him. Nails raked his back a final time and suddenly all the muscles surrounding him clenched down, hot seed coating his fingers and abdomen. It seemed impossible for Taemin to become tighter than he already was, but the little punch was just what he needed to throw himself over. Burying his face into the crook of the other boys neck, Minho groaned, spilling himself deep inside his lover.
Though he tried to maintain what strength he had left, he ended up collapsing on top of the other male. They were silent, listening to eachother breathe; feeling the others heart beat in their chest. It was… peaceful… if not a bit sticky. “Hyung…” Taemin breathed “… you’re heavy…” Not necessarily. Taemin just didn’t have anything to him. Regardless, Minho smiled, rolling onto his side and pulling the dancer to him. Cleaning up probably should have been the next thing on their To-Do list, but regaining the ability to walk was a much better idea. He toyed with the others hair, still amazed that they could go through sleep, sweat and sex and still be as soft as they were. “Hyung,” Taemin began again, “the faucet wasn’t really broken.”
Minho only smiled, pressing another kiss to the youth’s forehead before sitting up. “I know.” Slowly, the rapper got himself out of bed, where as Taemin was having enough trouble just sitting upright. Even so, he’d planned to stand and take care of himself; plans that simply could not be tolerated. The moment Taemin’s legs were swung over the side of the bed, Minho’s arms looped underneath and hoisted him up bridal style. “Let’s hurry and clean up before they get back…” That adorable rosen hue had settled around Taemin’s cheek bones once more, and for a moment, Minho was tempted to just wander around the house like this, just to see how long he could make it last. But no… they’d be sticky for the rest of the day if they stayed like this.
The bathroom was entered and a hot shower started, both boys eagerly stepping into the steaming downpour. The heat felt great on muscles that were already sore, and ones that would definitely be sore later.
-
“We’re home!” The door shut behind the trio with a click. Key and Jinki went about their, business, but Jonghyun stayed curiously in the livingroom. The sound of running water could be heard, which explained where one of them was at. Not wanting to think too long on the matter, he munched at the bagel in his hand, wandering down the hall and into his bedroom. He began shifting through drawers, but the longer he dug for something to wear, the slower his hands moved, until suddenly, he was completely still. His nose wrinkled. “It smells funny in here…”
-
“Turn around,” Taemin did as he was asked, turning his back to his hyung. With a well soaped up cloth, Minho washed the maknae’s back. It was harmless enough, until the motions of the brush were obviously more than just scrubbing. Curious, Taemin glanced over his shoulder.
“You’re drawing,” he stated matter-of-factly “what is it?”
Minho grinned. “Nothing special.” He took the cloth for his own, scrubbing at his arms and stomach as he watched the soap on Taemin’s back slip away, the Hangul just barely legible as the water washed it away.
Saranghae.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: 2min, implied JongKey
Notes: I DID MOST OF THIS AT WORK LOL. It’s fluffy smut. I don’t know how to write it any other way. :( I didn’t really expect it to go this way, but when I started this, I had no idea where it was going anyway, rofl. Also sorry for the repeat ‘late night’ scenario that I’ve done like THREE TIMES but… idk. No real excuse I guess. I just suck. And I’ll be honest; I think my smut is mediocre. I prefer teeth-rotting sweetness and humor :| Holy shit this is long.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It was interesting, how one would be completely oblivious to annoyances until it was the only thing to focus on. Jonghyun had been complaining that the faucet was leaky, and oddly enough, Key had been the one to deny it, claiming that his kitchen was flawless and that the vocalist had just had one too many blasts to the eardrums… now with that claim in mind, maybe it wasn’t so odd for Key to shoot down the idea. After all, the mere suggestion that something he involved himself in was anything less than perfect was a sin in itself.
Good thing Choi Minho was a sinner.
His injury had been bothering him that evening, and so he’d opted to lie out on the sofa for the night, lest his excessive shifting or pained grunts disturb anyone. The rapper would have been perfectly content to just watch television until he passed out on the couch. Out of courtesy for his group mates, the flickering pictures were muted. Due to the lack of noise however, the more subtle ones became less… well… subtle. “… He was right.” Minho mumbled under his breath. It wasn’t as if there was anyone awake to talk to at that hour, but it made him feel less lonely. Unfortunately, his imaginary friend was incapable of helping him with any kind of labor the sink would require.
Unable to stand the monotonous dripping any longer, Minho slowly rotated his body to get up to his feet. It took a bit more effort than it normally did, but you couldn’t be too hard on the guy: it was late, he was worn out, and he was down a leg. He limped into the kitchen, pressing his hands against the counter top and glaring daggers at the slowly dripping plumbing. If the fire in his eyes had been able to physically manifest, the whole faucet would have welded itself shut. Choi Minho was many things: a rapper, an athlete, a model, and a growing singer, among others. Unfortunately, ‘mechanically inclined’ wasn’t on that list. He understood that turning the handle one way made water come out, and turning it the other way made it stop. “… how do I fix this thing… ?”
Thus, the obvious method was the first on his list. With a firm grip, the handle was twisted. It did in fact budge a small bit, and for a moment, Minho thought the solution really was that simple. It was even silent for a whole two seconds… but a time frame would imply that it wasn’t a permanent solution.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He cringed. Every second he spent stressing out over this was one less second of sleep he’d be getting that night. Though, at this rate, with that sound, he wouldn’t be getting much anyway. “… hyung?” He’d have been a bit more startled by the sudden break of silence, if he hadn’t been so goddamn tired. Besides, he already knew who it was. He glanced sleepily over his shoulder, taking in the figure of an equally sleepy maknae. The way Taemin looked minutes after waking was so adorable that it was almost disgusting. His hair was a mess, and his clothing was excessively twisted; a rough night for him as well perhaps? He shifted the heart-print pajama pants back into place, leaving the white tee alone, and topped off the cute appearance with a drawn out yawn. “What are you doing awake…?”
“Could ask you the same.” The taller gingerly turned his body, now leaning back with his elbows on the counter to face the other. Taemin only smiled in response, and that small action spoke more than a whole drawn out story could have. He hadn’t slept a wink either, and Minho had narrowed it down to two possibilities: either the dancer had been driven insane by the continual drip as well, or Jinki had rolled into his bed again. “… Can’t get this thing to shut off.” He commented, turning once more to face the sink, as if a second session of glaring would scare the plumbing into fixing itself. Padding softly up behind the taller, Taemin rest his chin on Minho’s shoulder, glancing down at his fruitless ‘attempts’ to bring the dripping to an end.
Without a single word, the maknae reached around the others broad shoulders, settling his hand on the handle. “I tried that,” Minho threw in. Taemin hummed, but continued, and Minho could only watch. With a twist, the water came on in a single, powerful stream, and just as quickly as it had shot out, it was off again.
Drip. Drip… Drip… Drip…
Silence.
“Sometimes,” Taemin began, “you just have to jiggle it a little.” Minho wasn’t sure if he was happy to finally have some peace, or annoyed that the solution had been that simple and he still managed to over look it. He’d been told before that sometimes, all you needed was another set of eyes to look at something. That may have been the case, but the way Taemin had picked his words made this whole thing sound extremely… staged. The rapper hummed, but in terms of snarky commentary, kept his lips sealed. Taemin stepped back, allowing the other to turn once again. Even if he wished he could have fixed the problem himself, he was grateful for Taemin’s assistance, giving the boy an affectionate ruffle to his already messed hair.
The youth once again proved himself useful as a crutch, allowing Minho to limp that much faster back to the couch to lay down. He sighed, the mute pictures still flickering across the television screen. He’d expected to just spend the rest of the night by himself, but Taemin remained in the livingroom, also watching whatever late night infomercial decided to play. “You should sleep,” The rapper said, head tilted far enough back on the arm of the couch to capture an upside-down view of the maknae. Taemin paused, sleepy eyes shifting towards the bedroom hall, then back to the TV, giving a silent shrug. That confirmed it: his bed was occupied by a sprawled out, unconscious Jinki. They all adored their leader, but once he passed out, it was hell to get him up again.
After a moment’s hesitation and an amused smile, Minho shifted in his seat. Taemin reached out to him in an attempt to make him stay put, but was completely ignored. Upright with his injured leg outstretched on the table, he set his eyes on the youth, patting at the open spot beside him. Like a puppy called over by his master, Taemin was instantly in the invited spot, Minho’s arm instinctively draping over the smaller boys shoulders. “You should too.” The maknae spoke, resulting in a pair of sleepy eyes shifting sideways to glance at him. Silence fell between them, and finally, Minho shrugged.
“I’ve been trying.” He started, “but I can only block out noise for so long.
Taemin smiled. “Jonghyun-hyung does snore really loud huh?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he choked out through stifled laughter. It wasn’t what he was referring too, but Taemin was right. Sometimes Minho was forced out onto the couch simply because he couldn’t stand to listen to the vocalist’s chainsaw imitation for more than twelve seconds. The dancer snuggled up to the taller boy and let a content sigh. The athlete had planned on commenting further, but the sudden silence from his friend had caused him to glance down out of curiosity. Taemin’s eyes were shut, and his chest lifted and fell in steady rhythm. Just like that, he’d fallen asleep. A crooked smile formed on the rappers face, and with a surprisingly gentle touch, Minho brushed a stray piece of hair from the angelic visage.
‘Jaljayo.’
--
Minho twitched.
He’d been dreaming something, but the images were quickly leaving his mind as he was pulled closer and closer back to consciousness. “… -ho!” He grumbled something incoherent and tried to roll away from the sounds, giving one last effort to cling onto the fleeting images in his head. However, an unseen weight (he’d yet to open his eyes, after all) kept him firmly in place. “Oi!” Gone. The only thing Minho could see now were the underside of his eyelids. The heavy lids opened to set a fiery glare upon a looming Jonghyun. Seemingly unphased by Minho’s sleep deprived rage, the vocalist grinned ear to ear and waved down at the waking body. “Good morning!” Minho said nothing, eyes instead shifting downward to examine the source of his immobility. At some point during the night, he’d returned to lying on his back, and Taemin had adjusted by sprawling out on top of him. How he didn’t notice it early and wake up from the movement, he wasn’t sure… but whatever. Taemin was an excellent source of body heat. “We’re going out for breakfast. Key said it was cheaper than grocery shopping right now. Do you want anything?”
Minho was half tempted just to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t really pass up free food. Even though his leg hurt less this morning, it didn’t mean he was looking forward to getting up and preparing breakfast for himself, and possibly Taemin, unless the maknae woke up within the next four minutes. “… That would be nice.” Before his hyung could unload a flurry of questions as to what he wanted and how much, Minho continued. His brain couldn’t process so many questions so shortly after waking up. “… I’ll just have whatever you guys pick up.” Sure, there were risks involved by allowing such freedom, but if nothing else, Minho knew he could trust Key to pick out something edible. Jonghyun, now also looking at the sleeping mass on Minho’s chest, simply shrugged.
“See you in an hour or so then. Get up and do something - it’s bad for you to sleep in late.”
He was about to spit some kind of witty retort, then decided he simply didn’t have the energy. Thus, Minho just let out a tired sigh and gave a half-hearted wave. As one body left, another entered. Key tilted his head to the side, pressing his hands on the couch and leaning over to look at the two youths. When Minho glanced up, Key’s attention was clearly favoring the sleeping boy. Ever the caring umma, it didn’t take long for the favoritism to be explained. “He hasn’t been sleeping well these past few nights,” The younger rapper was silent, waiting for Key to continue. “He’s up and about a lot at weird hours. I hear him sometimes. ” Another pause, and the diva smiled. “I’m glad to see he finally got some rest.”
“It was probably that damn faucet.”
A high-class stank-face that would make even the bitchiest of girls jealous was provided by the Almighty. “It doesn’t leak.”
Minho smiled, lazily holding his hands up in defense, then bringing one finger to his lips to remind Key of the sleeping body on top of him. With a huff and a hair flip, Key followed after Jonghyun, and Jinki who was long out the door. ‘It doesn’t anymore.’ His lips were sealed until finally the click of the shutting door was heard. With a sigh of relief, Minho let his head slump back onto the cushion. Jonghyun was right; he probably should have gotten up and worked his leg a bit, but hell, he was tired, and he really didn’t want to wake up Taemin. If what Key said was true - and it probably was - Taemin had a lot of sleep to catch up on.
As if he were afraid of breaking the sleeping maknae, Minho gently stroked the youngers hair with his fingertips. He hadn’t really made it a priority to play with Taemin’s hair, but the tresses were so soft that he may have had to work that into his schedule. His hand froze when the maknae shifted, letting out a cute noise and stretching his arms above his head, only to have them lock underneath Minho’s shoulders. The rapper blinked, unsure of whether or not it was safe to move again. “… Good morning hyung.”
Well… that pretty much answered his question. “Morning.” Taemin’s head lifted enough so that he could look at the older boy, smile, and lay it down once again. ‘That’s fine… I didn’t want to get up anyway.’ In truth, he kind of had to pee, but he supposed he could put the call of nature on hold, as long as Taemin didn’t decide to roll over and lay on his bladder. While bodily functions could be put at bay, his increasing boredom could not. Sleep was good, but only to an extent. His hands slid to the other boys spine, and started drumming on the vertebrae, each hit in time with the tune leaving his mouth. “… La la la, na tata TOP,” Taemin giggled and squirmed, “Hey, hey, mani nae TOP~”
“Stoooop!” The overload of aegyo only motivated Minho to continue. Digits moved from spine to hips, and soon enough Taemin was squealing with laughter. He nearly fell off the couch, but the older boy had decent special reasoning, and as he was rolling, strong arms wrapped tightly around him and held him in place. “Hyuuung,” he whined, “let me sleeeep.” The rapper sighed, head slumping back against the couch in defeat. “… where’s everyone else?”
“Out shopping for breakfast. Get up.” Taemin groaned, but Minho was much less forgiving this time, twisting sideways so that the maknae slid off of his body, and dropped to the floor. Thankfully, the dancer had enough grace to catch himself, even in his half-awake state. The fallen boy pouted, where Minho simply smiled down at him, sitting upright and stretching his arms over his head. Cautiously avoiding the maknae as he stood, the older boy finally managed to get to his feet, limping over to the bathroom to do what needed to be done.
A few minutes later, the rapper was much more comfortable. Hands were washed, and when he left the bathroom, Taemin was no longer on the floor… which was good he supposed, though it wouldn’t have surprised him too much if he’d come back to see the other boy curled up in a stray blanket and catching a few more minutes of sleep. But no, the kitchen faucet was running, and Taemin was in front of it filling a glass before quickly downing half of its contents. “Key said you haven’t been sleeping much,” there was no warning before his speech, causing Taemin to jump and nearly drop the glass. Before he could reply, the item was taken from his grasp, and Minho helped himself to the water that was left.
“… Ah… yeah…” The boy was blinking more than was normal, and an arched brow from Minho was the silent command to continue. While he usually wasn’t one to pry into anothers business, the fact that Taemin wasn’t coming out and telling him what the issue was made him wonder if it hit on a more personal level. If it had to do with more bullying… well… Minho didn’t really know what he would do. But chances were it would end in a law suit. “… I’ve had a lot on my mind I guess.” A smile was given to try and push the topic away, but Minho would not be so easily swayed.
He pulled the cup from his lips, placing it beneath the faucet and filling it once again. “… Like?” Taemin’s smile fell from his face, and instead the whole of his face was covered by a light blush, growing deeper with each passing second of awkward silence. Minho grinned. “Girl trouble?”
“YEAH!” Minho choked. “Yeah. Girl problems.” As he coughed up his vital organs, the rapper felt a surprising amount of jealousy and possessiveness. Yes, he and Taemin were close, probably more so than they let others believe. Skinship was almost automatic, and a few awkward kisses had even been shared in privacy, but even with all of that in mind, he wouldn’t call Taemin ‘his.’ He’d originally called it a mix of brotherly love and hormones. Now… he wasn’t so sure. With his lungs finally realizing that they couldn’t breathe water, Minho inhaled deeply, filling his tortured organs with sweet non-liquidated oxygen.
When he regained his composure, he found the maknae to be nowhere in sight. Clearly he’d used Minho’s moment of asphyxiation to make a get-away. Well, there were only so many places he could hide. Silently, the rapper opened the dishwasher, setting the glass in the device and closing it. He probably could have just rinsed, dried and stuck it back in the cabinet. It was just water after all… but that whole topic was completely irrelevant. Hobbling out of the kitchen, Minho hummed and scratched his head. No Taemin in the living room… but he did realize he’d neglected to shut off the TV. He flipped the switch in passing, eyes scanning the narrow hallway. He nudged the bathroom door with his foot, and found that it opened with no resistance. No Taemin here.
Both bedroom doors were shut. Reasonable, since the overflowing sexual tension between Jonghyun and Key caused some interesting scenarios. The Diva borrowed clothes with no intention of returning them, and ever since Taemin had started complaining that the room smelled funny after leaving the two alone, Jinki had taken the liberty of locking the door once they were all awake. Since he was fairly sure their leader had the only key to the room and didn’t care to mention the location of the spare, that left one option.
“Taeminnie.” Minho knocked on the door belonging to, interestingly enough, his own room shared with Jonghyun. No response. “what’s wrong?” Still silent. However, he could here movement on the other side. “… Tae.”
“I’m just tired and laying down,”
“Taemin,” With a large variety of playful nicknames, it wasn’t very often that he used the others full name. “You locked yourself in my room.” And Jonghyun’s. “Do you think I can’t get myself in?” He couldn’t. Jonghyun had the key. Thankfully, Taemin didn’t know that, and the serious tone in Minho’s voice seemed to be all the convincing the younger performer needed.
Shuffe, shuffle… click… shuffle.
He didn’t wait long before pushing the door open, catching the ending motion of Taemin bouncing back onto his - Minho’s - bed. His story didn’t seem too farfetched; Minho’s pillow was indented where a head had clearly been lying, and the boy was wrapped tightly in what seemed to be every blanket he could get his hands on. He remained silent, burying himself deeper into the sheets as Minho limped across the room, sitting beside him. “… You don’t have girl problems.” It wasn’t a question, and Taemin knew that. Slowly, he nodded his head. “School?” He shook his head. “Stress?” He paused, shrugged, but in the end shook his head. “… Is Jonghyun-hyung biting you at night?” The dancer brought a hand to his mouth to try to hide the developing smile, but again, shook his head. Well, now that he’d at least gotten a laugh out of him, maybe things would come easier. “Then what?”
That dusting of rose once again scattered itself around Taemin’s cheek bones. The difference this time was that there was no water for Minho to choke on, and the layers of sheets would cause a very clumsy escape. He was stuck. Taking in a deep breath, Taemin began. “I’ve… been having weird dreams.” Minho arched a brow. That was it? Were they nightmares? He bit his lip to keep himself silent, allowing Taemin to continue talking. “They… keep… me up at night. I can’t get back to sleep after I have them.” The second brow on the rappers face lifted, and suddenly, all of the pieces fit. Yes, it would make sense for the boy to be kept up by nightmares, but if he were terrified by them, then why did he seem so embarrassed?
Those kind of dreams.
Minho swallowed the lump in his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, Tae, they’re… uh… it’s natural for that to happen… and I’d say, just… do what you gotta do. Unwind, relax, lay back down until you-”
“They’re about you hyung,” His body stiffened, and all the rapper could do was stare. Taemin’s face grew darker with each passing second, and his body sunk lower into his bedded cocoon. With that much already out, Taemin seemed to feel it was best to just spill it all. “Sometimes I can get back to sleep because they’re not… not… intense… but,” You could barely even see the boys face anymore with how far he’d slipped, “Sometimes… I can’t… I can’t get the images out of my head… my skin feels hot because I keep seeing you above me… I keep feeling your hands running over my body… I keep-”
“Tae.”
The boy beneath the blankets trembled. “I’m sorry hyung… ” his voice quivered along with his frame. If he could still see his face, Minho was sure he’d have tears in his eyes. “Don’t be mad… please… I didn’t mean to…” This was a delicate subject, and thus, needed to be handled with caution. Minho extended his arms - just as shaky as the others body, he noted - and wrapped his arms tightly around the hidden boy. Slowly, he began to pull at the blanket. “If I could stop, I would but-” before he knew it, the maknae was exposed once more, and his barricade of bedding was thrown onto the floor. As suspected, his cheeks were wet with recently fallen tears. “- I don’t know-” he was silenced by a pair of lips pressed to his own, half telling him that there was no need to be so worried, and half telling him to shut up.
It was nothing like the chaste kisses on the cheek, or the clumsy few that had been shared behind closed doors. Minho’s lips felt like they were on fire, and as he felt the smaller boy mewl against his mouth, his whole body began to take on the heat. Delicate subject indeed, and just as dangerous to linger in too long. His body was screaming at him to keep moving, but reason and genuine concern eventually won over, resulting in the rapper to pull back, hands on the youths shoulders. “… I was scared of freaking you out and avoiding me…”
Minho sighed, but he couldn’t help but smile a small bit. “I’m not going anywhere Taeminnie.”
“… then why did you stop?”
This time, Minho was the one to have blood rush to his face. He was sure the standard procedure was ‘take it slow’ - ask a few times ‘do you really want to do this?’ But holy hell, Taemin had basically begged to act out the dreams that kept him awake, and that pleading look in his eye snapped every strand of self control Minho had left. Well fuck, he definitely didn’t need to be asked twice. The resting hands pulled the smaller boy forward, sealing their lips once more. He tried his hardest to be gentle, but with each little taste; with each little touch, they became more hot and needy. Curious hands wandered and soon found the need to explore the uncharted territory beneath Taemin’s shirt, causing the boy to shudder and release the most beautiful noises Minho had ever heard. It didn’t take long for Minho to conclude that the other boy was wearing far too much clothing.
With little warming, his hands slipped out just enough to hook his thumbs on the hem of the fabric, quickly sliding it up and over Taemin’s head. For easier removal, the boy lifted his arms up, and soon enough, the garment was on the floor with the scattered sheets. It wasn’t as if this were the first time he’d seen Taemin without a shirt, but it was somehow… different this time. His eyes took in every inch of the smooth plane, and it wasn’t until Taemin tugged at his sleeve that he remembered what was going on. Ah yes - ravaging the maknae.
Though he was still nervous about the whole thing, instinct and common sense told him this wasn’t going to go anywhere with butterfly kisses and clumsy touches. Their lips locked hotly once more, and previously mentioned instinct told the rapper that everything would go much smoother if the other boy were to lie on his back. Settling his hands on the maknae’s waist, Minho pushed forward a bit more, and it was all Taemin needed to clearly get the message. Daring to be bold, the older male let his tongue slip out, teasing the others lower lip. Curiously the smaller of the two own tongue came forth to slide against his in greeting. It was sloppy, but neither of them were particularly experienced.
It seemed that each action caused Taemin’s confidence to grow, and soon enough, it became clear that the maknae didn’t think it was fair that only he was half-naked. His hands were still trembling oh so slightly, but the tugs and fumbling grip at his t-shirt resulted in assistance from the older boy. Daring to break the contact they shared for just a moment, Minho sat up, tugged his shirt off, and cast it aside to join the others before picking up right where they left off. His knee shifted up between the other boys legs, causing the maknae’s breath to catch in his throat and instead exhale as a needy moan. That noise was like lightning down his spine, and it was made very obvious to Minho that, yes, clothing was becoming extremely problematic.
“Hy-..ung…” He took to exploring other places on the younger’s body; his hands toying at the drawstring on the boys pajama pants, while his lips left hot marks on the delicate skin of his neck. Taemin could be a brat sometimes, and while Minho was sure he wasn’t as innocent as his appearance gave him out to be, with flushed skin, strands of silken tresses sticking to his forehead, and his name sticking to dry lips… Taemin was absolutely beautiful right now, and part of Minho’s mentality couldn’t determine whether this was a good idea. Things were going to change afterwards, that much was obvious, but were the urges just urges, or would this angel keep him company every time the faucet decided to leak? A collection of blunt nails raked down his slickening back.
He supposed he’d find out later. Someone was getting impatient.
His response was to nip at the skin just above the others clavicle, well aware of the mark that would leave and, at the same time, not really caring. Though it took a bit of effort, the string was finally undone, and the obnoxious sleepwear was tugged down, Taemin being kind enough to lift his hips to assist in the removal. The pile of clothes was ever growing, the maknae seemingly eager to help as he sat himself up, though as he settled his fingers around the elastic of Minho’s sweatpants, his hands began to tremble even more, and for a moment, he seemed frozen. With a soft smile, the older took both hands in his own, lifting them and placing a kiss to the back of each. “… Take your time Tae.”
Taemin swallowed, but the bit of reassurance seemed to be working. He nodded, Minho releasing the appendages before placing a sweet kiss to the maknae’s forehead. Before he could pull completely away, the younger tipped his head back and pushed forward, stealing a kiss and nuzzling himself into the rappers neck. He was under the assumption that cuddling came after sex, but Minho supposed that a small bit in between wasn’t really a bad thing. He slid his hands down the other boys spine, right as he felt the teeth nip at his neck. It caught him completely off guard and reminded him just how much of a little shit Taemin could be. Either way, the stifled groan was evidence enough that he definitely didn’t mind.
If the stillness in his hands was any evidence, Taemin had gotten his confidence back, and soon enough Minho’s sweatpants were down by his knees, kicked off only seconds later. It was painfully slow by the standards of most, and yeah, Minho would agree that it was getting to the point of being painful, but there’d been a silent agreement to take it slow, and thus, if it took two hours to get naked, then he guessed he’d just have to learn to deal with his throbbing arousal for the next few tormenting fragments of time. That was, of course, if he wasn’t driven over just by feeling the boy squirm beneath him and making those amazing noises.
“Hyung,” Taemin breathed. Minho’s fingertip had slipped below the elastic of the last garment on the others body, and though he was overly eager to continue, he stopped himself to let Taemin know he was listening. “Y… Your leg…?” The older boy was silent. He wasn’t as bad off as he was yesterday, and yes, it did still sting a bit, but goddamnit, why was Taemin bringing it up now? His brow furrowed, but it didn’t even take a full two seconds of contemplation before he drew a conclusion.
It was so worth it.
“Don’t worry about it.” With the question answered he continued on with his task, ‘accidently’ brushing the clothed erection and causing the youth to buck his hips. Another article of clothing was added to their collection, and though he wanted to take in the breathtaking figure before him, he didn’t want his lover to feel overly self-conscious about his current condition. Thus, as soon as he was finished, he set to removing his own undergarments. It also seemed that, despite still being a bit timid, Taemin proved himself to be the perpetual Hyung Pleaser; another set of hands caused the removal of clothing to go much faster.
An unusual sensation of innocence washed over him; a brief flickering thought of ‘now what?’ Sure, it was a question he already knew the answer to, but he dreaded the thought of doing even the slightest thing to upset Taemin, or worse yet, hurt him. “… Hyung?” Minho blinked. It was at that point that he realized he’d been staring. “You’re embarrassing me…” The older of the two gave a slightly awkward smile, lightly sweeping the messed hair from Taemin’s features and cupping his face in his hands.
“Sorry,” he mumbled leaning in and tasting the kiss swollen lips. “It’s hard not to stare,” The words were delivered directly into Taemin’s ear, and he could literally feel the heat radiating off of the others cheeks. He ran his tongue over the shell of his ear, each hitched breath and shuddering mewl absolute music to his ears. Fingertips ghosted along the subtle definition of the youths body, reminding Minho just how tiny his lover was. Seconds seemed like hours, but his destination was reached, rewarded by another pleasured sound as his fingers wrapped around the smaller boys arousal. With the squirming and his own hammering pulse, it was hard to set a rhythm, but one was picked up soon enough.
His name was barely audible, but it was indeed falling from the others lips at the end of each desperate breath. Pleased with himself, Minho allowed a sly smile to cross his face, sliding his thumb along the tip of his lover’s cock and smearing the bead of precum along both plains of skin. He dared to remove his hand for a moment - very much against Taemin’s will - and licked the creamy substance from his digit. It was a bit sweeter than he expected, possibly from all the banana milk in the maknae’s system, but he still wasn’t sure if he cared for the flavor or not. Even if he didn’t, he could tolerate it every now and again if it got that wonderful blush to lift onto the younger’s face.
For a moment, his brow furrowed. Lubrication wasn’t exactly something he kept on hand, and the thought of using any that Jonghyun kept on hand kind of… terrified him. Well, there were alternatives. Something on hand just would have been more convenient and probably would have made the job go that much smoother. “Taemin,” he began, resulting in a cute smile and the youth tilting his head to one side. “are you really okay with this?” Truthfully, if the other dared to say No, ‘tough shit’ would have been the next thing out of SHINee’s Flaming Charisma. Wordlessly, Taemin took Minho’s right hand in both of his, touching the fingertips to his bottom lip, mouthing a silent ‘I trust you Hyung.’
With breathless consent, two fingers were brought into the maknae’s mouth, and Minho could only imagine where Taemin had learned to do such incredible things with his tongue. The rappers eyes became half-lidded, completely losing himself in the heat that shot from his fingertips all the way to his elbow. Needless to say, it wasn’t his fingers that he wanted in Taemin’s mouth right now… but that would have to wait until the dancer was a bit more comfortable with the whole idea. After a thoroughly enjoyable moment, Minho removed his fingers, examining them and found them satisfactorily coated.
“Just… let me know if it hurts,” he’d never done anything like this before, and he was fairly sure Taemin was just as much a virgin, but common sense told him that this probably wasn’t the most comfortable experience to begin with. Slipping his hand down between the maknaes legs, the first digit probed and slid inside his entrance, and instantly he grew concerned. If Taemin was this tight around his finger, how was he going to fit, if at all? He hesitated, taking note of the evident discomfort on Taemin’s face. He gave him a moment to adjust, and as soon as the expression on his lovers face eased, he wiggled the digit around before inserting a second. He feathered kisses along the smooth abdomen, loving how the boy’s body arched with each bit of contact. The digits were scissored; the final bit of prep before both were removed.
He hiked the younger boys legs up onto his hips, positioning himself at his entrance, running a soothing hand along his lovers stomach and chest. “Relax.” With Taemin’s arms looped around his shoulders, Minho slowly eased himself in. It was a losing situation: either he could go quick and possibly make the boy bleed, or go slow and just make him hurt that much longer. Nails bit into the back of his neck and Minho winced, his arms shaking from how unbelievably tight Taemin was. Tears welled at the corner of the boys eyes, and he was quick to kiss them away in silent apology. He waited patiently for his lover to stop quivering, and as soon as both were comfortable, he moved.
Slowly at first, even though his mind was screaming at him to ram the boy so hard that the headboard cracked the wall. Primal urge was a hard thing to fight, but thankfully, his overall affection for the maknae was even harder to overthrow. He breathed heavily into the others ear, their cheeks pressed tightly to one another as finally, Minho was able to find a steady rhythm for them to follow. Their bodies slickened with sweat, making their movement even more fluid. “Harder.” The voice was hot and breathy in his ear and Minho really didn’t have any idea that Taemin was capable of such a commanding tone. What else could he do but oblige?
Teasing the lobe of the maknea’s ear with his tongue, the older boy pulled his hips back before thrusting deeply back in. The moan that escaped his mouth sounded vaguely like the rappers name, Taemin’s body arching beautifully as he wrapped his legs around Minho’s waist, pulling him in even deeper. Pleased with the results, he figured he was doing something right. Again, that spot deep inside the small boy was struck, causing another pleasured cry to bounce off the walls. Suddenly both boys found themselves extremely grateful that A) they had no neighbors, and B) no one was home. Then again, if there was another body in the house, it probably wouldn’t have progressed this far to begin with.
Their group mates would have to go out to breakfast more often.
“H-hyu…-” He couldn’t even finish his words. It was a compliment, he supposed, that he’d left the maknae winded and his throat raw, but at the same time he felt bad. Then again, it wasn’t his fault that Taemin was a screamer. “I’m… c-..” another breathy moan, but enough was said for Minho to get the general idea. While one hand remained at Taemin’s hip, the unoccupied slid to his neglected arousal, fingers looping around the shaft and pumping in time with his thrusts. Each touch put his skin on fire, and each thrust became harder to keep time with as the boy writhed below him. Nails raked his back a final time and suddenly all the muscles surrounding him clenched down, hot seed coating his fingers and abdomen. It seemed impossible for Taemin to become tighter than he already was, but the little punch was just what he needed to throw himself over. Burying his face into the crook of the other boys neck, Minho groaned, spilling himself deep inside his lover.
Though he tried to maintain what strength he had left, he ended up collapsing on top of the other male. They were silent, listening to eachother breathe; feeling the others heart beat in their chest. It was… peaceful… if not a bit sticky. “Hyung…” Taemin breathed “… you’re heavy…” Not necessarily. Taemin just didn’t have anything to him. Regardless, Minho smiled, rolling onto his side and pulling the dancer to him. Cleaning up probably should have been the next thing on their To-Do list, but regaining the ability to walk was a much better idea. He toyed with the others hair, still amazed that they could go through sleep, sweat and sex and still be as soft as they were. “Hyung,” Taemin began again, “the faucet wasn’t really broken.”
Minho only smiled, pressing another kiss to the youth’s forehead before sitting up. “I know.” Slowly, the rapper got himself out of bed, where as Taemin was having enough trouble just sitting upright. Even so, he’d planned to stand and take care of himself; plans that simply could not be tolerated. The moment Taemin’s legs were swung over the side of the bed, Minho’s arms looped underneath and hoisted him up bridal style. “Let’s hurry and clean up before they get back…” That adorable rosen hue had settled around Taemin’s cheek bones once more, and for a moment, Minho was tempted to just wander around the house like this, just to see how long he could make it last. But no… they’d be sticky for the rest of the day if they stayed like this.
The bathroom was entered and a hot shower started, both boys eagerly stepping into the steaming downpour. The heat felt great on muscles that were already sore, and ones that would definitely be sore later.
-
“We’re home!” The door shut behind the trio with a click. Key and Jinki went about their, business, but Jonghyun stayed curiously in the livingroom. The sound of running water could be heard, which explained where one of them was at. Not wanting to think too long on the matter, he munched at the bagel in his hand, wandering down the hall and into his bedroom. He began shifting through drawers, but the longer he dug for something to wear, the slower his hands moved, until suddenly, he was completely still. His nose wrinkled. “It smells funny in here…”
-
“Turn around,” Taemin did as he was asked, turning his back to his hyung. With a well soaped up cloth, Minho washed the maknae’s back. It was harmless enough, until the motions of the brush were obviously more than just scrubbing. Curious, Taemin glanced over his shoulder.
“You’re drawing,” he stated matter-of-factly “what is it?”
Minho grinned. “Nothing special.” He took the cloth for his own, scrubbing at his arms and stomach as he watched the soap on Taemin’s back slip away, the Hangul just barely legible as the water washed it away.
Saranghae.