and you run and you run; minho/key
And You Run And You Run
Minho/Key; R; 200 w.
For shineeworld's week 22 challenge: lies and how to tell them.
He tries to ignore the way their limbs are entwined.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Kibum breathes. His head is tossed back against his pillow, his hair fanned out wildly around him, as he tries to ignore the way their limbs are entwined, and how Minho feels perfect inside him.
“Okay,” Minho agrees easily, though his fingers tighten painfully on Kibum’s shoulders.
“This is the last time,” he continues, but still Minho maintains his careful, rhythmic pace.
“Alright.”
Kibum sucks in an almost painful breath. “I’m serious.”
Minho just nods into his neck, and he slides his hand down to hitch up Kibum’s leg in the crook of his elbow.
Kibum moans and digs his nails into Minho’s back. “You don’t believe me,” he accuses hotly.
Turning his head, Minho paints kisses over Kibum’s neck and jaw. “I believe you,” he assures.
But Kibum doesn’t believe him because Minho’s always been too smart for his own good and probably knows what Kibum refuses to admit: that it means everything to him, and that this is far from the last time he’ll fall into Minho’s arms.
“I’m done,” Kibum says, and he wants to sob at the way Minho nods his head knowingly in acquiescence because they both know it’s a lie.
Minho/Key; R; 200 w.
For shineeworld's week 22 challenge: lies and how to tell them.
He tries to ignore the way their limbs are entwined.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Kibum breathes. His head is tossed back against his pillow, his hair fanned out wildly around him, as he tries to ignore the way their limbs are entwined, and how Minho feels perfect inside him.
“Okay,” Minho agrees easily, though his fingers tighten painfully on Kibum’s shoulders.
“This is the last time,” he continues, but still Minho maintains his careful, rhythmic pace.
“Alright.”
Kibum sucks in an almost painful breath. “I’m serious.”
Minho just nods into his neck, and he slides his hand down to hitch up Kibum’s leg in the crook of his elbow.
Kibum moans and digs his nails into Minho’s back. “You don’t believe me,” he accuses hotly.
Turning his head, Minho paints kisses over Kibum’s neck and jaw. “I believe you,” he assures.
But Kibum doesn’t believe him because Minho’s always been too smart for his own good and probably knows what Kibum refuses to admit: that it means everything to him, and that this is far from the last time he’ll fall into Minho’s arms.
“I’m done,” Kibum says, and he wants to sob at the way Minho nods his head knowingly in acquiescence because they both know it’s a lie.