Guilty Pleasure
Title: Guilty Pleasure
Author: orangedcgirl
Pairing: Minho/Taemin
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: It wasn't the pressing that made him uncomfortable, it was that it wasn't happening on his terms. He wanted to be in control, not tossed around like a bouncy ball.
A/N: Wrote this quite a while ago, actually. Surprised I hadn't posted it yet. So, here it is.
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"....I really don't like this," Taemin said flatly, as he was bumped/rubbed/fondled by yet another complete stranger and various passers-by.
"That's because you're not dancing," said Key pointedly, sweeping his hair back from his face. He had recently reappeared from deep within the depths of the dance floor, dragging a tired, sweaty, grinning Jonghyun behind him. They had lost Minho to the bar ten minutes upon entering, and Onew was likewise nowhere to be found. "You're a dancer, goddammit," Key insisted, shoving Taemin roughly toward the dance floor. "So go out and dance!"
"I don't want to dance with random strangers, though!" Taemin protested, already taking a severe dislike to the way people were pressing up against him. It wasn't the pressing that made him uncomfortable, it was that it wasn't happening on his terms. He wanted to be in control, not tossed around like a bouncy ball.
"Find someone attractive," was Key's advice as he eyed Jonghyun approaching with drinks in hand, and left Taemin to fend for himself like a gazelle in a den of lions.
"Mrrfgh," said Taemin, as he was inevitably sucked into the middle of the dance floor by some sort of current, landing right smack against someone's chest.
"Oh," he said, though he could hardly hear himself speak, the music was so loud. "Um, sorry..." He peeled himself away and looked up, then blinked in surprise. "Oh. Hey."
Minho blinked back at him, easily four inches taller than anyone in the crowd. "Hey."
Taemin wouldn't really have pinned Minho for a middle-of-the-dance-floor kind of guy. Though he did seem to be tipping over a bit, so that could explain it. "What are you doing here?"
"Huh?" Minho leaned forward, presumably because he couldn't hear a single word Taemin was saying, then toppled over due to a well-placed elbow in the side from someone to his left. He ended up pressed against Taemin, the crowd immediately filling in the vacuum he'd left behind so there was absolutely no room left to move.
"Um," said Taemin again, somewhere in the vicinity of Minho's collarbone. Minho just stared down at the top of his head, his brain feeling a bit fuzzy. The crowd around them pressed close, moving as one single mass to the thumping heartbeat of the bass.
Taemin managed to scoot back a little after a moment, but was immediately stepped on and shoved forward once again. Minho may very well have snarled and shot out a hand to grab Taemin and pull him closer, arms wrapped safely around him.
Taemin didn't say anything when Minho pressed him against his chest, or when his hands just happened to settle on Taemin's waist. Taemin's own were caught between their bodies, palms pressed against Minho's chest. He was very warm.
He didn't say anything when Minho started to sway a bit, either, or when he rested his head on Taemin's shoulder, forehead pressed to the hot skin of Taemin's neck.
He was drunk, Taemin reasoned. And the crowd was pushing them close together like this. Back and forth, pressing a bit harder now, and was that the bass thumping in his chest or was his heart just trying to burst its way out of his ribs? Minho's hands slid around to his lower back, where his shirt was riding up. Taemin may have let out a tiny gasp, but no one would have been able to hear it.
And if anyone saw them a bit later, when Minho's hands had completely disappeared from sight and Taemin may have been pressing a little harder than necessary against him as they danced, his lips against Minho's throat, hair across his face, well, no one thought to say anything about it.
Author: orangedcgirl
Pairing: Minho/Taemin
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: It wasn't the pressing that made him uncomfortable, it was that it wasn't happening on his terms. He wanted to be in control, not tossed around like a bouncy ball.
A/N: Wrote this quite a while ago, actually. Surprised I hadn't posted it yet. So, here it is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"....I really don't like this," Taemin said flatly, as he was bumped/rubbed/fondled by yet another complete stranger and various passers-by.
"That's because you're not dancing," said Key pointedly, sweeping his hair back from his face. He had recently reappeared from deep within the depths of the dance floor, dragging a tired, sweaty, grinning Jonghyun behind him. They had lost Minho to the bar ten minutes upon entering, and Onew was likewise nowhere to be found. "You're a dancer, goddammit," Key insisted, shoving Taemin roughly toward the dance floor. "So go out and dance!"
"I don't want to dance with random strangers, though!" Taemin protested, already taking a severe dislike to the way people were pressing up against him. It wasn't the pressing that made him uncomfortable, it was that it wasn't happening on his terms. He wanted to be in control, not tossed around like a bouncy ball.
"Find someone attractive," was Key's advice as he eyed Jonghyun approaching with drinks in hand, and left Taemin to fend for himself like a gazelle in a den of lions.
"Mrrfgh," said Taemin, as he was inevitably sucked into the middle of the dance floor by some sort of current, landing right smack against someone's chest.
"Oh," he said, though he could hardly hear himself speak, the music was so loud. "Um, sorry..." He peeled himself away and looked up, then blinked in surprise. "Oh. Hey."
Minho blinked back at him, easily four inches taller than anyone in the crowd. "Hey."
Taemin wouldn't really have pinned Minho for a middle-of-the-dance-floor kind of guy. Though he did seem to be tipping over a bit, so that could explain it. "What are you doing here?"
"Huh?" Minho leaned forward, presumably because he couldn't hear a single word Taemin was saying, then toppled over due to a well-placed elbow in the side from someone to his left. He ended up pressed against Taemin, the crowd immediately filling in the vacuum he'd left behind so there was absolutely no room left to move.
"Um," said Taemin again, somewhere in the vicinity of Minho's collarbone. Minho just stared down at the top of his head, his brain feeling a bit fuzzy. The crowd around them pressed close, moving as one single mass to the thumping heartbeat of the bass.
Taemin managed to scoot back a little after a moment, but was immediately stepped on and shoved forward once again. Minho may very well have snarled and shot out a hand to grab Taemin and pull him closer, arms wrapped safely around him.
Taemin didn't say anything when Minho pressed him against his chest, or when his hands just happened to settle on Taemin's waist. Taemin's own were caught between their bodies, palms pressed against Minho's chest. He was very warm.
He didn't say anything when Minho started to sway a bit, either, or when he rested his head on Taemin's shoulder, forehead pressed to the hot skin of Taemin's neck.
He was drunk, Taemin reasoned. And the crowd was pushing them close together like this. Back and forth, pressing a bit harder now, and was that the bass thumping in his chest or was his heart just trying to burst its way out of his ribs? Minho's hands slid around to his lower back, where his shirt was riding up. Taemin may have let out a tiny gasp, but no one would have been able to hear it.
And if anyone saw them a bit later, when Minho's hands had completely disappeared from sight and Taemin may have been pressing a little harder than necessary against him as they danced, his lips against Minho's throat, hair across his face, well, no one thought to say anything about it.