[17] under the hood
wonwoo/the8 → FOXTROT UNIFORM CHARLIE KILO MIKE ECHO
rated not safe for life, 1000 words
||idolrapper, happy birthday! err, you don't really even like this pairing but i said i'd remember to wrap wonwoo in a bow for you...this is practically the same thing, right?
||additional warnings: (assless chaps, barebacking, semi-public sex, but nothing explicit!)
“Someone’s going to see.”
“Nah, they’re all sleeping.”
From behind the pale fabric curtains, the first rays of the rising sun sting Mingyu’s eyes as he hobbles out of the bathroom and turns, eyes squinting, to pad down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“Mingyu!” The loudness and sharpness of the voice startles him into opening his eyes.
“Um, wrong g-”
Mingyu blearily raises an eyebrow, meeting a shocked face with his own expression of confusion. “Wonwoo-hyung, why are you awake so early?” he mumbles, before the last vowel sound opens into an uncontrollable yawn. “And who’s behind you?”
“Oh. Mingyu.” Minghao’s head pops out to the side from behind Wonwoo’s shoulder and he narrows his eyes. “Wasn’t expecting you to be awake so early.” He turns his head to hiss, “they were all snoring when I checked!” into Wonwoo’s ear, not quiet enough that Mingyu doesn’t catch it.
“I could say the same for you, Seo Myungho. Why are the two of you awake at the asscrack of dawn?”
“Uh, we, uh,” Wonwoo leans forward, closing his eyes to avert Mingyu’s gaze.
“Wanted to surprise everyone by making breakfast,” Minghao says, deadpan, bumping into Wonwoo from behind and pushing him forward.
Wonwoo grimaces, bracing himself on the kitchen counter with his elbows. “Y-yeah,” he says breath coming in short gasps, “Yeah, that. Fu-fuck.”
“That’s really nice!” Mingyu pats his own belly with both hands, and then rubs circles on it over his t-shirt. “Although…neither of you know how to cook?”
“We found an easy recipe,” says Minghao. There’s a thump-thump-thump as he bounces forward and back on his toes, completely nonchalant. He leans forward again, chin hanging over Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Just…wanted to try giving you something nice…”
Wonwoo whimpers.
“Are you sure you don’t want help, though? I don’t want you to burn or cut yourselves or something.” Mingyu takes a few steps forward, already rolling up his sleeves. In his head he tries to mute the alluring siren call of the soft bed, and the hour or so still left before anyone’s alarm clock is yet to go off.
“STAY BACK,” Wonwoo barks quickly.
Alarmed, Mingyu freezes with one foot held up in the air.
“Um, alright, jeez, if you don’t want help that’s fine. Can I at least grab a glass of water?”
“Minghao, Minghao can get you that water, can’t he?” The words are raspy and Wonwoo sounds like he’s panting from the exertion of yelling at Mingyu, however briefly.
“Sure can.”
“Are you feeling okay, Minghao? You're being oddly nice,” Mingyu says. “And you too, Wonwoo-hyung, are you alright? You sound kind of…out of breath? The dance rehearsals haven’t been too much on your stamina, have they?”
Even as he says it, however, Wonwoo’s shoulders are losing their tension, falling back to a more natural position, and he straightens up with a relaxed expression. Minghao’s stepped away, his hands yanking the hem of his trousers up, and for a moment Mingyu’s concerned that the guy has been losing weight again and that his waist has somehow shrunk even smaller. Then he remembers that Minghao’s been stealing from his dinner for nights and no longer feels sympathetic.
“I’m fine,” Wonwoo says, and he does sound it. Whatever was catching in his throat earlier is gone now. “I was just, um, upset that you had found out about our, uh, breakfast plan.”
“It’s a very cute secret,” Mingyu affirms. He accepts the glass of water from Minghao’s hands and chugs the entire thing down in one go, feeling the cool liquid soothe his dried throat.
“Yes, secret, so don’t tell anyone and go back to bed,” Minghao admonishes, before taking the empty cup back and waving his hand at Mingyu’s face in a shooing motion.
“I’m tired but I kind of just want to watch your inevitable fiasco,” Mingyu mutters, stifling another yawn. “I’m taking over the couch, don’t set anything on fire.”
Before he falls asleep, he hears Minghao and Wonwoo whispering furiously at each other, but he’s too tired to catch what they say.
*
When Mingyu wakes again, mere minutes later, it’s to the sound of a rhythmic thwapping noise, and Wonwoo harshly biting out the word, “Faster.” Mingyu peeps one eye open, and then the other, finally lifting both his arms to stretch out the crick in his neck from curling up on the sofa.
“Ohmygod,” Wonwoo squeaks.
“What?” Minghao asks.
“Good morning, round two?” Mingyu suggests, blinking at their blurry forms. “Smells kinda weird, what are you making anyway?”
A beat, more thwapping. Another second passes during which Mingyu thinks Wonwoo’s having a minor conniption.
“Poundcake,” answers Minghao eventually.
“Making poundcake?”
“Yeah…Is that…wrong?” He talks lazily, his gaze a little unfocused.
“Hmm…I’ve made those with my grandmother before. Are you mixing the batter? Can I come taste it?”
Wonwoo suddenly slams both his fists on the counter before shouting, “NO,” extremely emphatically. “I mean, um,” he lets out a long, calming breath. It’s unusual for Wonwoo to lose his temper like that, getting all flushed and red. “Guh. Just wait until we’re finished. We’re not ready yet.”
“Fine. I want to know though, Minghao, how are you helping with the cooking if you’re just standing behind Wonwoo-hyung?”
“I’m sticking close,” Minghao says assuredly, enunciating each word slowly. “Keeping a careful eye.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty close, but that doesn’t physically help anyone?”
Minghao mumbles something under his breath before explaining, “I’m putting the maximum distance between my face and Wonwoo’s mess.”
Mingyu snorts. “If it’s such a mess you should just let me help.”
“No thanks,” Minghao says, wrinkling his nose. “We’re nearly done anyway. Close.” He says it right against the curve of Wonwoo’s ear, and Wonwoo shivers.
“Don’t,” Wonwoo bites out, fingers visibly clenching around the edge of the counter, pinkish fingertips turning white from the pressure. “It’s going to leak, you asshole.”
“There’s a big soup spoon somewhere in the cupboards, you can use that to transfer the cake batter so you don’t have to use the straining ladle,” Mingyu mutters tiredly, before drifting back into dreamland.
*
“So, the cake fell through. We tossed it out. I did put some jam on toast for you though.” Minghao slides a plate across the coffee table and then steps sidewise to sink into the armchair, a blissful smile on his face.
“Huh? Does that mean no cooked breakfast?” Mingyu looks down at the bread. “Why do you look so happy?”
“It’s Wonwoo,” Minghao says, like that’s an explanation.
It is indeed Wonwoo who awkwardly passes them at that moment, speedily shuffling back into his room.
Mingyu blinks. He turns his head toward Minghao with wide eyes and eyebrows stretched toward his hairline. “Um, is it just me or did Wonwoo-hyung just walk by with his ass hanging out of his trousers?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Gyugyu-ya.” Minghao snorts, thumbing the screen of his phone down to the bottom of an updated post on his own Baidu bar. “Wonwoo-hyung doesn’t have an ass.”
a/n: i've been meaning to write 王八蛋 fic featuring harnesses for ages but i realized i'm a little too porned out. also, i think mingyu is cleverer than i gave him credit for here but like, let's all suspend disbelief for the sake of the story...maybe he doesn't let on that he knows so he can stay in the same room...maybe the next step is jww97zgb...
rated not safe for life, 1000 words
||idolrapper, happy birthday! err, you don't really even like this pairing but i said i'd remember to wrap wonwoo in a bow for you...this is practically the same thing, right?
||additional warnings: (assless chaps, barebacking, semi-public sex, but nothing explicit!)
“Someone’s going to see.”
“Nah, they’re all sleeping.”
From behind the pale fabric curtains, the first rays of the rising sun sting Mingyu’s eyes as he hobbles out of the bathroom and turns, eyes squinting, to pad down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“Mingyu!” The loudness and sharpness of the voice startles him into opening his eyes.
“Um, wrong g-”
Mingyu blearily raises an eyebrow, meeting a shocked face with his own expression of confusion. “Wonwoo-hyung, why are you awake so early?” he mumbles, before the last vowel sound opens into an uncontrollable yawn. “And who’s behind you?”
“Oh. Mingyu.” Minghao’s head pops out to the side from behind Wonwoo’s shoulder and he narrows his eyes. “Wasn’t expecting you to be awake so early.” He turns his head to hiss, “they were all snoring when I checked!” into Wonwoo’s ear, not quiet enough that Mingyu doesn’t catch it.
“I could say the same for you, Seo Myungho. Why are the two of you awake at the asscrack of dawn?”
“Uh, we, uh,” Wonwoo leans forward, closing his eyes to avert Mingyu’s gaze.
“Wanted to surprise everyone by making breakfast,” Minghao says, deadpan, bumping into Wonwoo from behind and pushing him forward.
Wonwoo grimaces, bracing himself on the kitchen counter with his elbows. “Y-yeah,” he says breath coming in short gasps, “Yeah, that. Fu-fuck.”
“That’s really nice!” Mingyu pats his own belly with both hands, and then rubs circles on it over his t-shirt. “Although…neither of you know how to cook?”
“We found an easy recipe,” says Minghao. There’s a thump-thump-thump as he bounces forward and back on his toes, completely nonchalant. He leans forward again, chin hanging over Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Just…wanted to try giving you something nice…”
Wonwoo whimpers.
“Are you sure you don’t want help, though? I don’t want you to burn or cut yourselves or something.” Mingyu takes a few steps forward, already rolling up his sleeves. In his head he tries to mute the alluring siren call of the soft bed, and the hour or so still left before anyone’s alarm clock is yet to go off.
“STAY BACK,” Wonwoo barks quickly.
Alarmed, Mingyu freezes with one foot held up in the air.
“Um, alright, jeez, if you don’t want help that’s fine. Can I at least grab a glass of water?”
“Minghao, Minghao can get you that water, can’t he?” The words are raspy and Wonwoo sounds like he’s panting from the exertion of yelling at Mingyu, however briefly.
“Sure can.”
“Are you feeling okay, Minghao? You're being oddly nice,” Mingyu says. “And you too, Wonwoo-hyung, are you alright? You sound kind of…out of breath? The dance rehearsals haven’t been too much on your stamina, have they?”
Even as he says it, however, Wonwoo’s shoulders are losing their tension, falling back to a more natural position, and he straightens up with a relaxed expression. Minghao’s stepped away, his hands yanking the hem of his trousers up, and for a moment Mingyu’s concerned that the guy has been losing weight again and that his waist has somehow shrunk even smaller. Then he remembers that Minghao’s been stealing from his dinner for nights and no longer feels sympathetic.
“I’m fine,” Wonwoo says, and he does sound it. Whatever was catching in his throat earlier is gone now. “I was just, um, upset that you had found out about our, uh, breakfast plan.”
“It’s a very cute secret,” Mingyu affirms. He accepts the glass of water from Minghao’s hands and chugs the entire thing down in one go, feeling the cool liquid soothe his dried throat.
“Yes, secret, so don’t tell anyone and go back to bed,” Minghao admonishes, before taking the empty cup back and waving his hand at Mingyu’s face in a shooing motion.
“I’m tired but I kind of just want to watch your inevitable fiasco,” Mingyu mutters, stifling another yawn. “I’m taking over the couch, don’t set anything on fire.”
Before he falls asleep, he hears Minghao and Wonwoo whispering furiously at each other, but he’s too tired to catch what they say.
*
When Mingyu wakes again, mere minutes later, it’s to the sound of a rhythmic thwapping noise, and Wonwoo harshly biting out the word, “Faster.” Mingyu peeps one eye open, and then the other, finally lifting both his arms to stretch out the crick in his neck from curling up on the sofa.
“Ohmygod,” Wonwoo squeaks.
“What?” Minghao asks.
“Good morning, round two?” Mingyu suggests, blinking at their blurry forms. “Smells kinda weird, what are you making anyway?”
A beat, more thwapping. Another second passes during which Mingyu thinks Wonwoo’s having a minor conniption.
“Poundcake,” answers Minghao eventually.
“Making poundcake?”
“Yeah…Is that…wrong?” He talks lazily, his gaze a little unfocused.
“Hmm…I’ve made those with my grandmother before. Are you mixing the batter? Can I come taste it?”
Wonwoo suddenly slams both his fists on the counter before shouting, “NO,” extremely emphatically. “I mean, um,” he lets out a long, calming breath. It’s unusual for Wonwoo to lose his temper like that, getting all flushed and red. “Guh. Just wait until we’re finished. We’re not ready yet.”
“Fine. I want to know though, Minghao, how are you helping with the cooking if you’re just standing behind Wonwoo-hyung?”
“I’m sticking close,” Minghao says assuredly, enunciating each word slowly. “Keeping a careful eye.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty close, but that doesn’t physically help anyone?”
Minghao mumbles something under his breath before explaining, “I’m putting the maximum distance between my face and Wonwoo’s mess.”
Mingyu snorts. “If it’s such a mess you should just let me help.”
“No thanks,” Minghao says, wrinkling his nose. “We’re nearly done anyway. Close.” He says it right against the curve of Wonwoo’s ear, and Wonwoo shivers.
“Don’t,” Wonwoo bites out, fingers visibly clenching around the edge of the counter, pinkish fingertips turning white from the pressure. “It’s going to leak, you asshole.”
“There’s a big soup spoon somewhere in the cupboards, you can use that to transfer the cake batter so you don’t have to use the straining ladle,” Mingyu mutters tiredly, before drifting back into dreamland.
*
“So, the cake fell through. We tossed it out. I did put some jam on toast for you though.” Minghao slides a plate across the coffee table and then steps sidewise to sink into the armchair, a blissful smile on his face.
“Huh? Does that mean no cooked breakfast?” Mingyu looks down at the bread. “Why do you look so happy?”
“It’s Wonwoo,” Minghao says, like that’s an explanation.
It is indeed Wonwoo who awkwardly passes them at that moment, speedily shuffling back into his room.
Mingyu blinks. He turns his head toward Minghao with wide eyes and eyebrows stretched toward his hairline. “Um, is it just me or did Wonwoo-hyung just walk by with his ass hanging out of his trousers?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Gyugyu-ya.” Minghao snorts, thumbing the screen of his phone down to the bottom of an updated post on his own Baidu bar. “Wonwoo-hyung doesn’t have an ass.”
a/n: i've been meaning to write 王八蛋 fic featuring harnesses for ages but i realized i'm a little too porned out. also, i think mingyu is cleverer than i gave him credit for here but like, let's all suspend disbelief for the sake of the story...maybe he doesn't let on that he knows so he can stay in the same room...maybe the next step is jww97zgb...