Chapter Text
“That’s such a weird feeling.”
Minho moaned, loudly – and not the sexy variety – as Chan’s middle finger breached the rim of his butthole.
“Shhh,” Chan comforted, caressing the inside of Minho’s thigh with his free hand. “It’s always gonna be a weird feeling.”
“Ughhh,” Minho groaned.
“But it will get better,” Chan added, pacifying.
Minho’s muscles started relaxing under Chan’s touch. Chan stopped moving his finger when it got in up to the second knuckle.
Minho had a deep frown on, his mouth drooping like a bloodhound’s.
“I hate it.”
Chan looked up at Minho with a tired expression, the free hand now traveling to Minho’s dick which was getting limp at an alarming rate. He stroked it soothingly.
“Lee Minho, age twenty five,” Chan announced and cleared his throat.
His tone transformed into an exaggerated wanton voice.
“Ah, Chan, Bang Chan-ah – I’m ready! Impale me with your divine cock and part me like Moses parted The Red Sea!”
Minho shrieked in laughter, his abdominal muscles tensing.
“That is not,” he tried decking Chan with his leg, Chan parried with his elbow, “what I said!”
“Well maybe not in those exact words but I think I got the right message across!” Chan said, patting the thigh that almost hit him, caressing it a little more attentively this time.
The group had flown into Tokyo that morning and had gone straight to the venue. The staff had been kind enough to supply Minho with his first pudding of the day.
They had had their hair and makeup done. Second pudding. Then dressing up into fancy matching suits.
They had walked the red carpet and attended the award ceremony that had gone on and on and on and on. A third pudding had made an appearance sometime during the second commercial break.
They had received some awards and, as a cherry on top, performed at the end.
The performance had been Minho’s favorite part of the event, finally getting a chance to get in his element.
Chan had also been in his element, breathing a second life to that stage, commanding it. High on adrenaline, the pudding craving had started morphing into a Chan craving.
It had not helped when Chan had come up to Minho after the performance while they were cooling down and fixing their sweaty melting faces and whispered dangerously close to his ear, “I saw you looking.”
That had set into stone the extremely strong urge to jump Chan’s bones.
So much that Minho had been the one who had told everyone good night in the lobby and pulled Chan with him to an enthusiastic choir of wolf whistles.
(Minho hadn’t been that far gone to not note who started it. Hyunjin and Jisung – sleep with one eye open.)
He had slammed Chan against the hotel room door, fishing for the key card in his pocket, distracted. Lust had been pouring out of their eyes, Chan’s thigh caged between Minho’s legs and Minho’s teeth sunk into Chan’s lip.
Minho had managed to open the door and push Chan on the bed, crawling over him like a man possessed.
“I need you inside me,” Minho had said.
Or something like that.
Definitely different from what Chan had implied. And to Minho’s credit, he had been exceptionally horny, courtesy of the Han Jisung cockblock from two days ago.
But whoever flies high, must fall low, and this is where Minho found himself now.
“I’m not responsible for past Minho’s whims!” the Minho of the present said.
“This was ten minutes ago,” Chan deadpanned.
Minho threw his head back on the pillow. “And it was before I felt like I had a worm up my ass.”
“It is a bit like that, I’m not gonna lie,” Chan said, amused.
Minho loudly whined.
Chan put a warm hand over Minho’s hip. “We can always stop,” he said, expression turning earnest.
Minho sighed, looking at the ceiling. “No…I want to do it now. There’ll never be a perfect time.”
Chan squeezed Minho’s waist lightly. “I’ll stop whenever you need me to, just say the word.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Minho said, reaching his hand forward and blindly patting Chan’s head. The gesture was supposed to be reassuring but since it was Minho, it basically doubled as slapping Chan over the head. Chan closed his eyes and huffed a few hopeless dry sobs himself.
Then he activated his neglected hand, lightly pushing his finger in and out of Minho. His other hand got back to stroking Minho’s dick again, an ongoing battle.
Minho tried to force himself to relax. “I don’t think I’ll be ready to go all the way, though,” he said.
Chan kissed the inside of Minho’s thigh. “That’s okay.”
“Maybe next time.”
Chan smiled and kissed the base of Minho’s cock. “Maybe next time,” he repeated. “Can I add a second finger?”
“Ughhh,” Minho got back to his by-the-minute scheduled grumbling. “If you have to.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Chan said.
“Just do what you’d do to yourself,” Minho said, waving a hand while looking up. “You’re the ass expert.”
“Is that my legacy?” Chan said melodramatically. “Not music, but ass expertise?”
“Awww, you do know your place, Channie!”
“Those are some really bold words from someone who has fingers up his ass,” Chan said, slowly adding a second finger.
Minho clenched around him involuntarily. “God, this sucks,” he said, jaw set.
“Don"t worry, I wouldn"t do what you did to me, I still plan on fucking you some day.”
Minho"s dick twitched in Chan’s hand.
Chan grinned. “You really like it when I say that, don"t you?”
Minho put a hand over his eyes. “Shut up.”
Chan went to plant kisses along Minho’s thigh again. “You need to relax first, you’re extremely tense,” he said, his hand now following across the path of the kisses, massaging. “Have you seriously never done this before?”
“I’ve tried a few times as a teen,” Minho said, the grimace not leaving him, “but it never felt right.”
“Your fingers probably weren’t long enough to hit the right spot,” Chan said, his kissing crusade stopping at Minho’s balls. He reached for Minho’s dick again, grabbing it by the base, and licked a long strip along the shaft. “And probably didn’t give enough attention to this,” he finished by putting his lips around Minho’s tip.
“Was I supposed to suck myself off?” Minho huffed.
Chan mumbled something around Minho"s dick that sounded like, Not what I meant.
Minho wriggled on the bed. He let out a light moan, the first one that wasn’t because of discomfort. He closed his eyes and tried concentrating on the wet heat around him and the skilled laving of Chan’s tongue, rather than the foreign feeling of Chan’s other body parts invading Minho’s body.
“I mean, yeah, this feels good now, but not because of your fingers,” Minho spoke with shallow breaths. He opened his eyes and looked down, catching a sight of Chan. “Ah, you look so pretty, Channie.”
Chan pinched Minho’s thigh, his cheeks instantly blushing. Minho squealed and then sighed when Chan flicked his tongue just underneath the head.
“Mm, it’s really all just – holy shit,” Minho gasped, grabbing the sheets underneath him.
Chan smiled around Minho’s cock as he curled his fingers, brushing them against the small firm ball inside Minho.
“Don’t – fuck – don’t stop,” Minho heaved, his hands finding purchase in Chan’s hair.
Chan hummed, not planning to anyway.
Minho weaved his fingers through Chan’s hair, locked between tugging and pushing, his hips twitching at every suck, at every brush of his prostate.
Chan solved Minho’s dilemma by grabbing one of Minho’s hands on his head, making Minho momentarily focus on Chan’s lust-filled gaze and a mouth full of cock.
He positioned himself better on his knees, one hand in Minho’s hole, mouth around Minho’s cock, and his other hand now wrapping around his own dick. Chan nodded.
And they both went to town.
Minho bucked into Chan’s mouth, meeting his hips with the back of Chan’s throat while Chan worked both of his hands at their designated roles, losing the badly-crafted synchronization in a matter of seconds.
Minho had no idea what was happening, he only felt pleasure and heard moans, not knowing where his began and Chan’s ended. The sensation was overwhelming and overstimulating, making Minho’s vision white out.
Minho came first, eyes rolling backwards and back arching off the mattress. His ears were ringing and the ends of his limbs tingling as he felt waves of pleasure spreading through his body.
After a few long moments of heavy panting, Minho’s eyes glazed over to Chan, speechless at what he was even going to say because — holy fuck. But he didn’t have to think because he took one short glance at Chan and burst out laughing.
Chan was on his knees, sitting on the balls of his heels, covered fully and wholly in cum.
The spunk on his chest was presumably his own, dripping unceremoniously down his torso, but something must’ve gone wrong with the balancing act when they both started coming. Chan’s face was shiny, covered in white viscous streaks, one eye closed and twitching, and his curly hair sticky with the substance and sweat.
Minho couldn’t stop laughing. His stomach started to hurt while he kept gasping for air, tears streaming down his cheeks, the post orgasm bliss enhancing all of his sensations.
Eventually even Chan broke into small, shattered laughs as they both laughed at his misery.
“I think someone wants a kiss,” Chan said, climbing over Minho, caging him with his arms and legs.
Minho was still giggling, grabbing Chan frantically by his shoulders and trying to hold him off with his legs, as he exclaimed, “Don’t you fucking dare!”
But Chan’s strength and persistence was unmatched.
“Too late.”
He rubbed his sticky cummy face all over Minho’s cheeks.
“I hate you so much,” Minho said, half laughing, half sobbing. He stopped putting up a fight, his limbs getting limp.
“Mmm,” Chan hummed with delight.
He pulled back to look at Minho, a mystifying expression on his face.
They probably looked the same, eyes glassy from laughter, faces glistening from an unholy mixture of their jizz, breath heavy from exertion, and lips pulled into soft smiles.
Chan brushed Minho’s hair, now with only a whisper of a smile, and didn’t say anything.
Minho returned the gesture, combing through Chan’s tangled, messy hair and sighed hopelessly, “You"re disgusting.”
Chan"s smile deepened. Minho pulled his lips tight and scrunched his nose when Chan leaned in to kiss him.
“That was one of the best orgasms I ever had,” Minho admitted when Chan snuggled up to him on his side. His dirty chest was a hair away from Minho as Minho put an arm under Chan’s neck.
Chan rubbed his nose on Minho"s neck. “Told you so.”
Minho made a strangled noise, the wetness of Chan’s nose making him shudder. “We should definitely do it again.”
“Yeah?” Chan perked up like a puppy.
Chan was incurable. And maybe it was a little bit contagious.
“Yeah,” Minho smiled and this time kissed Chan back, his own semen be damned. “We should really take a shower, though.”
“Mm,” Chan only said, wrapping his arms around Minho, making him come into contact with the rest of the load, to Minho’s chagrin.
“Chan-ah,” Minho cried, shaking the shoulder where Chan buried his face. “Let’s go. I can feel it tightening on my face.”
“That"s good for our skin elasticity,” Chan said, squeezing Minho tighter. “It"s gonna keep us young forever!”
Minho clunked his head with Chan’s. “There’s no saving you, old man.”
Minho forcefully rolled them out of bed and pushed them into the shower. Chan claimed the water was too hot. Minho claimed it was just right. When they settled on a temperature that Chan declared was hotter than Satan’s asshole, they cleaned themselves up. Chan didn’t miss an opportunity by making a point of washing Minho’s junk because ‘it was healthier and more thorough when someone else did it for you’.
Afterwards, Minho insisted on a lower body bath, not wanting to forgo his favorite pre-bedtime ritual. The bathtub was really small and cramped, so Chan suggested Minho sit on him, since Chan was the wider of the two.
Minho said he would rather drop dead.
Through trial and error and a few misplaced kicks in the nuts, they made it fit somehow, each sitting on the opposite side of the tub, legs bent and tangled with each other.
They talked about the award show and their performance, summarizing the events. They talked about their idol friends they managed to meet and greet. They talked about their busy schedule for tomorrow and all the things they want to eat, but won’t have the time to while they’re still in Japan.
At some point, the zeal in Minho started leaving him, immense fatigue catching up with his mind and body, making Chan take the lead in the conversation. Chan eventually stopped talking, only humming a casual tune, and occasionally asked Minho this and that while Minho fought against exhaustion, his chin thudding forward.
When they were nice and pruny and Minho utterly lost the battle, Chan helped him out of the tub and dried him off. Minho clung to him, his forehead resting on Chan’s shoulder.
Minho left the steamy bathroom dizzy and faceplanted on the bed, butt-naked, starfish pose and all. He heard Chan going through his luggage and then helping him pull on his underwear. Chan planted a kiss at the nape of Minho’s neck, making Minho shiver. Chan was a stronger man than Minho, because Minho would have smacked his ass instead.
Complete silence fell over the room then, Minho seconds away from succumbing to dreams of warm baths and sweet puddings when he heard a thump and a murmured curse.
He twisted his head with a frown to be met with Chan with his robe on, all his clothes in one hand and the doorknob in the other.
“Where are you going?” Minho asked, words barely being produced by his cottony brain.
Chan looked caught, mouth opening and closing for a few moments.
“You’re going to sleep, no?”
“So?”
“So I snore,” Chan stated, like it was obvious.
Minho blinked. “Wait.”
He rolled off the bed like a squid on dry land and went to his bag, laid forgotten on the table. He rummaged through it until he found a small plastic box. He walked up to Chan with a triumphant expression, and shook it in front of Chan’s face.
“I brought ear plugs.”
Chan looked at the ear plugs, then looked at Minho.
“Oh…” he said dumbly, his ears getting a bright red. “I’ll just…go grab my laptop then, since you’ll probably fall asleep before I do.”
Minho nodded lazily, sleepily, and stalked back to bed.
He was virtually asleep when Chan entered the room again and got under the covers, only the most primal part of his brain still holding on to consciousness.
He got closer to Chan seeking out heat like a moth to the flame, but then hissed like a vampire when Chan opened up his laptop, illuminating the whole room.
Minho grumbled and turned his back to Chan while Chan chuckled apologetically.
At some point there was shuffling and the room went dark again.
Minho felt a kiss by his temple and a warm body plastering its entire surface over his rear.
A hand embraced him, Minho instinctively putting his own over it. A quickened heartbeat over Minho’s back finally lulled him into deep slumber.
*
Minho woke up nice and toasty. There wasn’t much light in the room, meaning it was either still too early or the weather was too crappy.
He was on a queen-sized bed big enough to not feel too crowded with two grown men on it, but small enough to still have some point of contact with the other. Chan surprisingly wasn’t glued to his back like Minho was his own personal teddy bear, but Minho still felt his presence.
He turned to the other side and peeked through his eyes.
Chan was on his back, hands behind his neck, eyes wide open and staring out to the ceiling.
Minho scooted a little bit closer, looking up at Chan’s side profile with bleary eyes.
Chan exhaled through his nose, nostrils flaring.
His lips moved, mesmerizing as ever, and formed new shapes.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Minho blinked once. Twice. Words came into his ears but they weren’t comprehending.
Until they were.
He propped himself on an elbow, wide awake suddenly, looking down at Chan, whose gaze was still fixed on the ceiling.
“What?”
Chan finally tilted his head towards Minho. He started laughing as soon as he locked eyes with Minho, the sound unfamiliar to Minho’s ears.
“No, yeah, I’m definitely in love with you.”
Chan’s eyes were like crescents, full of mirth, mouth spread wide. Said like it was just a thing to say, a passing funny anecdote.
Minho looked at him starstruck, wide-eyed, the two of them two opposing cyclones, clashing on the open ocean.
He laid back on the bed, put the heels of his palms over his eyes.
“They’re gonna be so annoying about this,” he groaned. Then he peaked at Chan over his hands. “Since when?” he demanded.
Chan blew air out of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s the question,” he said. “I thought it was recent, but looking back, I think it might’ve been much longer than that,” he ended with a shrug.
Minho groaned again, now kicking his hands and feet like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
Chan turned to the side now and propped himself on his elbow, a mirror of Minho a moment ago. “Are you done?” he asked, an amusing lilt to his voice.
Minho turned his head to face Chan, letting out a huff. “Almost.”
“Great,” Chan chirped. “Now what do you wanna do about it?”
Minho pursed his lips. “What do you wanna do about it?”
Chan smiled a toothy grin. “You know what I want to do about it.”
Minho stared at Chan, searching his face like he would find something tangible.
“Why?”
“Why?” Chan echoed, baffled.
“I don’t see what you could possibly gain from this,” Minho said, matter-of-factly. “I can’t give you more than this, hyung.”
Chan tilted his head. “I like what you’ve given me.”
“You need more,” Minho said. Then his expression cracked. He let out a huff of laughter, his smile apologetic. “I can’t offer you more.”
Chan sat up and crossed his legs, his body turned to Minho. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, putting them under his nose. He took a big breath. He opened his eyes, pointing the tips of his pressed fingers at Minho.
“You"re so fucking weird sometimes. I know you"re you, you never stopped at any point being you, and even a person from half across the world could see that. So I was utterly, and completely, left with no choice but to fall in love with you,” he finished by flicking Minho’s forehead.
Minho rubbed his forehead, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t know what to say.
“And the sex?” he asked, like he finally had a winning argument. “I can"t possibly match you there.”
Chan looked at him softly and shook his head. He threw a leg over Minho, straddling his hips.
“Sex with you is strange and unexpected and like nothing I"ve done before, even though I definitely have done this before,” Chan said. “But it"s also probably been the most fun I"ve had with it. I don"t think that"s gonna change even after trying out every pose, every kink, every weird and not-weird thing under the sun.”
He cradled Minho’s cheeks with his hands, making Minho focus on his face. Minho inhaled.
“Minho. I can wait for you.”
He leaned down. Minho shut his eyes. Chan kissed him, the gentle touch lingering only a second longer.
He pulled back, just enough so he could take Minho in.
“So tell me.”
He looked at Minho, not desperately, not pleadingly, just Chan. It was always just Chan.
“What do you want?”
*
“Told you so!”
A scream raptured Chan’s eardrum when he walked back into the living room to a cacophony of noise and pure chaos.
Hyunjin was on his knees, hands in the air, bellowing a dramatic, “Nooooo!”
“Cough up the won!” Jisung faux-spat on his hands, and wiped one hand with the other like he was throwing money.
Chan sat back on the floor around the low table. “What happened?” he asked to the void. The void answered back.
“I told them,” Minho said, eating his slice of pizza, unbothered.
Hyunjin turned desperately towards Minho. “Hyung, how could you?!”
Minho rolled his eyes.
“Just to clarify, none of us doubted Chan would catch feelings. The bet was whether you’d enter a relationship or not,” Seungmin said, taking out his wallet and counting money. Jisung was rubbing his grubby little hands like the critter that he was.
Chan grabbed his chest. “Oh wow, guys. I’m glad you all believed in me.”
“You’re just a hopeless mess, hyung,” Jeongin said, slapping a hand across Chan’s back.
“Haha, even the maknae agrees,” Minho mocked on the side.
Chan pinched Minho. Minho pinched back harder.
“Ew, stop flirting, no one wants to see that!” Hyunjin said.
Minho was about to throw a pizza slice at him, but Felix decided to interject.
“Speak for yourself! I’ve been counting down the days!”
“So everyone’s been in on this since the beginning?” Chan asked, bewildered.
“Oh, please,” Minho responded, cutting in, “like you didn’t have your little meetings with Changbin and Felix this whole time. No one here knows how to keep a secret.”
“Hey!” Changbin exclaimed, feeling called out. He just grabbed a new slice, the stringy cheese still connected to the rest of the pie. “I didn’t tell anyone! And I’ve known since you two made your deal!”
Minho turned to Chan, who was trying to acquire the power of looking through walls. “Wow.”
“Oh, he texted me when you kissed the first time,” Felix decided to add.
“Wow.”
“That’s how long they knew before me?!” Jisung screeched. He pointed a finger at Minho. “That’s it! I am gone, don’t you ever speak to me again!”
“We still have the second season of your dating show,” Minho said casually.
Jisung brought out his fist. Minho bumped him back. “I’m always here for you, brother.”
“Is anything going to change?” Jeongin asked.
“Change!” Hyunjin sneered. “They already did something on my bed!”
Chan knit his eyebrows and opened his mouth. “We didn’t–”
Minho grabbed Chan’s hand with both of his and rubbed it aggressively on his cheek without breaking eye contact with Hyunjin. “If I were you, Jinnie, I’d start locking your door.”
Hyunjin made retching noises while Seungmin simply turned to Chan. “This is what you chose, hyung?”
Chan squeezed Minho’s hand under the table. Minho squeezed back.
“It is.”