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“I can’t believe you don’t feel nervous."

Mingyu looks up from his equipment, pausing his inventory before the beginning of the photoshoot. Minghao is pointedly looking at him from behind his wired glasses expertly placed on the top of his nose.  

Mingyu shrugs. “I told you, I don’t.”  

Minghao snorts, clearly not believing his words. “Yeah, sure,” he says sarcastically. “You’re about to photograph the most requested model of the moment, and you’re perfectly calm.”  

“Shouldn’t you be in his dressing room choosing his clothes?” Mingyu replies with more annoyance than he actually feels.  

Mingyu turns his attention back to his instruments, hoping that Minghao will stop asking if he’s nervous, or he’ll actually start to feel like it. To be honest, he’s actually surprised by his calmness. It hasn’t been long since he has started working with actual models, having specialized in natural and street photography; moreover, this is undoubtedly the most important job that he has managed to land so far. If he does a good job now, his name will be finally well known among photographers, he’ll no longer be a young emerging talent, but an actual professional.  

When Mingyu’s former mentor had let him know about this occasion, at first, he couldn’t believe him. It seemed too good to be true. Not only a famous magazine wanted to entrust him with an entire photoshoot, but the model would have been no other than Jeon Wonwoo, the man of the moment.  

Popped out from literally nowhere, Jeon Wonwoo quickly became one of the most acclaimed models, coveted by magazines, photographers and brands, with that cool air, sharp eyes, a slender, not too muscular body that can emphasize any kind of clothes they’d put on him.  

Only to add to the allure, nobody really knew anything about him. He very rarely gave interviews, and it seemed like paparazzi were completely unable to snatch a picture of him during his private time.  

So, yes, Mingyu is about to photograph one of Korea’s most famous models and, oddly enough, he doesn’t feel particularly nervous. He knows the tone the shooting is going to have, and he has spent the last days reviewing some of Jeon Wonwoo’s works, realizing that he mostly does cool photoshoots, with him looking handsome and cool.  

Well, with that face of his, it’s pretty normal.  

Today’s job, too, is going to be along those lines, cool and with black-and-white photos. Wonwoo will look good no matter what Mingyu does, but he doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself or pass for the young amateur who’s only good at doing the assigned homework. Mingyu is a professional with his own artistic views, and he wants to bring something new to the model’s portfolio and his own.   

Well, this is just his own little ambition. He doesn’t know if he’ll actually able to be different from all the famous artists Wonwoo has already worked with before, but this doesn’t mean a man can’t try. If Mingyu hadn’t wanted to challenge himself, he would have stayed in his previous line of work in the first place.  

Overall, he’s calm. He’ll do well, he reassures himself as Wonwoo finally arrives on set, handsome and all dressed in black. Mingyu takes a deep breath when Wonwoo’s manager guides him to make the necessary introductions.  

“I’m Kim Mingyu, it’s an honor to work with you,” Mingyu says with a bow.  

Wonwoo returns the bow and then adds with the lowest voice Mingyu has ever heard, “I’m Jeon Wonwoo, nice to meet you. Let’s work well together.”  

Mingyu shakes his head as Wonwoo takes his place on the set, a completely empty space where the focus will be on Wonwoo only.  

He was taken a bit off guard by meeting him in person.  

Wonwoo is taller than he looks on photos, almost as tall as Mingyu. And, well, he’s very handsome. Which isn’t a surprise, models all look good, and Mingyu has spent many hours examining his face to decide how he wanted to immortalize him. But... he’s even better, in real life.  

Also, Mingyu was not expecting that voice. It reverberated through him the moment Wonwoo spoke.  

After everything’s set, Mingyu manages to clear his head from unnecessary thoughts and starts the shooting. Despite the calm that always falls over him when he’s focused on his job, his attention entirely on the subject in front of the camera lenses, Mingyu still notices how captivating Wonwoo actually is.  

In all honesty, up until now Mingyu never fully understood why everyone was so crazy about the guy, which was the secret behind his incredible and sudden popularity. Of course, he was good at his job and he was attractive, but so were so many other models.  

Today, while working with him, Mingyu finally thinks he knows why Jeon Wonwoo is so coveted.  

It"s not only the seemingly effortless way he follows his directions, the naturalness with which he poses. It"s not just his handsomeness, or his sharp gaze.  

Wonwoo is alluring in his every movement, drawing eyes on himself even when he stands in the middle of a room doing nothing.   

It’s the way he’s so quiet, talking only when asked something for the backstage interview. His unexpected politeness, how he never complains about anything and thanks every single member of the staff even for fixing a strand of hair.   

It’s the incredibly small, shy smile he makes after making a particularly peculiar pose Mingyu asked of him, lying down with his legs up, sustained only by his core muscles. Mingyu thought it was a nice, new way to display Wonwoo’s long, slender legs, and be a little funny at the same time, something entirely new for Jeon Wonwoo. What he wasn’t expecting was the small huff Wonwoo made after landing back on the floor, or the embarrassed smile after the first failed attempt.  

It’s the way he looks when Mingyu asks him to pose for a close-up, and Wonwoo looks straight into the camera with dark eyes that seem to be staring right into Mingyu’s soul. The strong eyebrows, the hair sapientially swept back to completely show his striking features. The delicate hands in front of his mouth. Mingyu is left breathless behind the camera.  

The photoshoot leaves Mingyu confused by his own reactions, but also quite satisfied. He and the magazine staff will have to properly go through all the photos, but he’s confident to have done a good job. He sees Wonwoo giving a quick glance at those that can be seen on the monitor before nodding without saying anything, so Mingyu assumes that he was satisfied with what he saw.  

He"s starting to rearrange his equipment, making some small talk with Minghao and a light assistant, when he hears his name being called quietly.  

“Kim Mingyu-ssi?”  

Mingyu knows already, from the unmistakable voice, who’s calling him, but he’s still taken aback in finding Jeon Wonwoo in front of him, still with his makeup and the clothes used for the last set of photos on, looking straight at him.  

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” Wonwoo says holding his hand out. Mingyu looks at it dumbfounded, not really understanding what is going on. Does Wonwoo want to shake his hand? “I only saw a few of the photos you took, but I liked all of them.”  

Mingyu’s very first instinct is to downplay his job, be humble and reply that he hasn’t done anything special. Then, he remembers that he’s proud of what he does, and faking modesty by refusing compliments from other professionals isn’t going to do him any good. Also, Wonwoo will probably think he’s rude or just plain stupid, if he keeps staring at his hand without taking it.  

He musters a smile and takes Wonwoo’s hand. It"s freezing cold, but the grip is strong, firm.  

“Thank you, Wonwoo-ssi. I really liked working with you, too.”  

“Then, let’s hope to work together again.” Wonwoo finishes with a polite smile, eyes not leaving Mingyu’s when he makes a small bow, and then he turns to walk to the changing room, leaving behind himself a deafening silence.  

“Erm...” Minghao starts after a while, while Mingyu is still looking towards the point he last saw Wonwoo. “Do models usually come to directly greet the photographer after a shooting? Because I think it’s the first time I see something like this.”  

The answer is, they don’t.  

In every photoshoot Mingyu has witnessed, the models just greet the staff in general before going to change. Mingyu has never saw one behave like Wonwoo just did. Maybe he really liked Mingyu’s photos. Maybe he’s just very polite.  

Mingyu faintly shakes his head, finding hard to speak out loud.  

“What a well-mannered guy. I was not expecting that.”  

Mingyu silently agrees, looking at the hand that Wonwoo has hold only a few moments earlier.  

Wonwoo’s skin was icy, but, for some reason, Mingyu’s hand is burning hot.  

It’s Mingyu’s first real, important business party, and he’s feeling quite uncomfortable.  

After having exchanged pleasantries and business cards with an indefinite number of PR representatives, managers, and big shots of the fashion industry, his head is spinning and he decides that he deserves a break and a drink. He catches his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar counter, and immediately lowers his gaze.  

It’s all Minghao’s fault.  

And Mingyu’s, too, for asking him to please find something suitable to wear for the party.  

“Isn’t this a bit too much?” he asked earlier that day while looking at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a red suit that fitted him so well one could suppose it had been made right for him. The bold color wouldn’t be a problem, if not for the fact that he’s only wearing a vest under the jacket, and Minghao has expressly forbidden him to put a shirt or any kind of clothes underneath.  

He looked good, he could see that, with the large expanse of chest revealed by the vest’s wide neckline, a small delicate necklace to draw the gaze on it, if it even was needed. Still, Mingyu is not used anymore to be at the center of attention, and he feels like, if he goes to the party dressed like that, like a damn thirst trap, it’s exactly what’s going to happen.  

Minghao snorted. “That party will be packed with important people, you need to get them to notice you.”  

“I want to get noticed for my work, not for how much of my skin can be seen,” Mingyu mumbled.  

“And you will.” Minghao reassured him with a hand on his shoulder, looking at him through the mirror. “But this will help. Those assholes won’t bother to even look in your direction, if you go there looking humble and demure. You need to catch their attention, and only then they’ll hear your name and start fawning over your works.”  

Minghao was right, of course. And, in retrospect, he’s also been very nice, providing him not only with the clothes and the accessories to wear, but also helping him with the makeup and the hair. It has gotten too long and Mingyu never knows what to do with it, but it looks incredibly nice the way Minghao has styled it.  

Anyway, Minghao’s strategy has worked. Mingyu has drawn attention on himself with his looks, and won people over with his ways and his works.  

It’s a successful evening, but he’s tired. He’s not used to this anymore, to force himself to be charming all night, the interested gazes, the lingering touches. The college parties and the endless nights spent at the club are a distant memory, by now.  

“Kim Mingyu-ssi?”  

The first instinct is to sigh and force himself to put on a charming smile once again, hoping it will be just another business conversation and not somebody trying to hit on him with the excuse of work – it has already happened a few more times than he would have liked to, tonight.  

However, Mingyu knows this voice. Deep, low.  

The voice – and the man – that has been haunting his every waking moment for the last days, ever since Mingyu has worked with him.  

Mingyu turns to his left to see none other than Jeon Wonwoo, stunning in his black suit, pretty fingers wrapped around a full glass.  

“Oh,” Mingyu says, cleverly.  

He’d would be lying, if he said that a part of him was hoping Wonwoo would attend the party. The other part, however, was hoping the exact opposite, slightly panicking at the idea of facing him again. It may sound silly, an exaggeration, but how are you supposed to face the person that has been living rent-free into your mind and dreams in the past days, knowing that they barely know your name, let alone your shameful, unjustifiable crush on them?  

Mingyu– has been thinking about him. No, that’s an understatement.  

Mingyu’s mind has been completely full with Jeon Wonwoo. Even when he was working or occupied with something else, Wonwoo’s face was always on the back of his mind, an insistent reminder, his eyes burning in the inside of his skull. The days from their meeting passed, and Mingyu found himself still shivering at the mere thought of him.  

It was like being under a curse.  

Mingyu spent an unreasonable amount of time picking the photos to present to the magazine, because all of them seemed perfect, and not because of Mingyu’s talent, but because it seemed impossible for Wonwoo to come out badly in a picture, to not be so incommensurably magnetic.  

He also took a long time because he’d spent hours just staring at them, at a particular detail of Wonwoo’s face, at every single strand of hair, at every ridge of his nails, zooming on them like a psychopath.  

There was a particular batch of photos where Wonwoo had his head thrown back, exposing the long column of his neck, and god forgive him, but Mingyu may have had a few not so innocent dreams about it.  

So, seeing Wonwoo now, in front of him, very real and even more handsome than Mingyu remembered, is destabilizing.  

“Wonwoo-ssi,” he manages to say in the end, realizing from Wonwoo’s slight confusion that he was making a fool out of himself already. “I’m sorry, you caught me off guard.”  

“You keep your guard up all the time?”  

Mingyu shakes his head quickly, but Wonwoo’s lips are curling into the smallest smile.  

“Honestly, I’m just surprised you remembered my name.”  

It’s not the complete truth, but not a full lie, either. Mingyu isn’t famous enough for people like Jeon Wonwoo to remember his full name and recognize him into a badly lit, crowded place.  

One of Wonwoo’s brows shoots up and Mingyu’s hand spasms around his glass, because he feels like it’s the most attractive thing he’s ever seen.  

“We’ve worked together only last week, my memory isn’t that bad.”  

Mingyu opens and closes his mouth. He’s never been the smoothest talker, but it seems like today he can’t say a word without sounding stupid or rude. He’d like to specify that he wasn’t try to insult Wonwoo’s ability to remember names, but he just thought that a person like Jeon Wonwoo, who meets so many people every day, people way more important, attractive, interesting than Mingyu, wouldn’t bother to remember a random photographer still at the early stages of his career.  

At least, Wonwoo looks more amused than anything.  

“I almost didn’t recognize you, though, if it makes you feel any better.”  

At first, Mingyu doesn’t fully get it, then– then he sees how Wonwoo’s eyes quickly roam over his body. It lasts an instant, so that Mingyu wouldn’t feel uncomfortable if he didn’t enjoy the attention, and then Wonwoo is looking at his face once again. There’s some smudged eyeliner along his lash line, so that his eyes look almost feline, even more alluring than the last time. Mingyu swallows.  

“I asked a friend for something to wear tonight and he brought me this.” He justifies himself. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”  

Wonwoo shakes his head, takes a small sip from his glass. There’s a light green liquid inside, nothing similar to Mingyu’s raw whiskey.  

“No. Not at all. You look...” Wonwoo’s eyes dart down once again. “You look really good, Mingyu-ssi.”  

“Please call me Mingyu,” Mingyu blurts out without any real reason other than the fact that if he focused too much on the fact that Wonwoo has just told him he looks good – even if only out of courtesy – he’d probably catch fire. But they’re not close enough to drop the formalities, and Mingyu isn’t sure that hearing his name without honorifics by that voice would be ideal for his mental state.  

“Then you should call me Wonwoo.”  

Oh, Mingyu is never going to do that.  

He searches into Wonwoo’s face for any sign of annoyance or mockery, but there’s none of it. His eyes are as intense as Mingyu remembers, and it’s getting exponentially difficult to keep looking at them without quivering.  

Mingyu tries to look somewhere else, but somehow, he can’t avert his eyes from Wonwoo’s figure. The arms nicely wrapped by the jacket, elegant buttons closing into narrow wrists. The black shirt slightly open, just enough to draw Mingyu’s gaze to the jut of Wonwoo’s collarbones.  

He sharply brings his eyes back to Wonwoo’s face, which isn’t any less attractive, but at least is a little more familiar, given how much time Mingyu has spent staring at it.  

“Are you here on your own?” Wonwoo asks, both his eyes and tone unreadable. Mingyu reminds himself he’s just trying to make some conversation. He’s just polite, Mingyu should know that by now.  

“Yes, it’s just me. You?”  

Wonwoo nods. “Me too. I mean, there should be my manager...” he vaguely gestures towards the rest of the room, “somewhere.”  

“Keeping an eye on you?”  

Mingyu doesn’t know why he said that. He’s being so, so rude, he’s wondering why Wonwoo is still talking to him.   

Then, Wonwoo surprises him with a secretive smile. “He doesn’t need to.”  

There’s something, behind that smile, behind Wonwoo’s eyes, that Mingyu can’t read. His glass is still almost completely full but he feels drunk, with how intense the buzz into his head is getting and with how difficult it seems to understand what has been going on since Wonwoo has started talking.  

“Do you...” he starts, gets distracted by the way Wonwoo is looking at him, eyes darting down on his mouth as he speaks, then starts again. “Do you always greet the photographer at the end of a shooting?”  

Wonwoo is clearly taken aback by the question, but the surprise is quickly replaced by the previous small smile. He never looks away from Mingyu’s eyes as he answers.  

“No. I don’t usually do that.”  

Mingyu opens his mouth again, but Wonwoo precedes him. “I wanted to talk to you again,” he spats out with a completely different tone from before, a small grimace on his face.  

And suddenly, finally, Mingyu gets it.  

As surreal as it sounds, this man, the most beautiful man Mingyu has ever seen, is attracted to him. Wonwoo wants him and has been trying to test the waters since earlier, but Mingyu has been too dense to respond to his signals.  

He takes a small step forward, gets an inch nearer. “I was confused. I felt flattered but I wasn’t sure if I should be. If you were just very well-mannered and did it with everyone.”  

“I don’t.”  

Mingyu exhales, putting his glass down on the counter. Wonwoo must sense that he has finally caught up, because the way he’s looking at him is different, now, more decisive. The way he leans in, his body language. The sudden closeness.  

The way his eyes glide over Mingyu. More openly.  

There"s a clear shift in the atmosphere, now that they seem to finally be on the same page, and realizing it – all of it – is a jolt of electricity to the temples.  

Mingyu smiles, and Wonwoo gets even closer.  

“I’d really like to ask you to dance,” he says, voice getting an octave lower. Mingyu feels his pants tightening. “But I’m afraid it would get very inappropriate very fast.”  

“Because we’re both guys?”  

Wonwoo gives him a once over, shameless, eyes lingering on Mingyu’s chest, on his mouth, then once again on his eyes.   

“No,” he says, “not because of that.”  

After that, they don’t really need to say anything more, to discuss about where or why or any of that, as they wordlessly stumble into the bathroom, waiting just enough for Wonwoo to close the door before they’re all over each other.   

Mingyu presses him against the tiled wall as Wonwoo grips his head on either side and yanks him in, searing his lips locked onto Mingyu’s with a force that takes his breath away. Mingyu gasps as Wonwoo’s tongue enters his mouth, curling and slicking over his own, devouring him in a series of a hot, wet bites.  

It"s a mess of teeth and spit and moans, hands roaming over each other’s body in a frenzy way, desperate to touch. And it’s perfect, with the way Wonwoo arches against Mingyu’s body at every touch, the way he’s panting into his mouth.  

The realization of having the man of all his latest dreams in his arms, achingly hard against him and kissing him like he wants to push Mingyu’s soul out from his mouth, swirls through Mingyu’s head like a storm, stripping him down until he’s simple bone and desire.  

Moans get swallowed by each other’s mouth, Wonwoo’s arms wrapping tightly around Mingyu’s waist and urging their bodies to crash together even more, legs tangling and hips grinding in need.  

Another gasp leaves Mingyu’s lips when Wonwoo rolls them over and presses him against the wall, his thigh a hard, insistent weight between Mingyu’s legs. He moans, shamelessly, as Wonwoo keeps grinding against him and moves his lips down, along the column of his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses, sucking sharply at the skin. He mentally sends a thankful thought to Minghao when Wonwoo slips a hand under his vest to touch his chest, mumbling a curse on Mingyu’s skin as he squeezes the hard muscles.  

And then Wonwoo is moving away from his neck, his hand leaving him. Mingyu tightens the grip on his waist with a whine, afraid he’s going to leave him like this, but Wonwoo only presses a finger on Mingyu’s lips with a soothing “sssh” before dropping on his knees.  

Mingyu can only watch, dazed, painfully aroused, heart thundering into his chest and ears, as Wonwoo, hair in disarray, lips red and swollen, quickly opens his slacks and takes out his cock. A shaky breath escapes Mingyu’s lips when Wonwoo looks at him with that intense, burning gaze, wraps a hand at the base of his length, the other firm on Mingyu’s hip, and, without breaking eye-contact, slowly drags his tongue across the head.  

Wonwoo"s lips curl up into a smile. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first met you.”  

Mingyu doesn’t have the time to fully realize the weight of those words, the fact that this gorgeous, perfect man wanted to get down on his knees in front of him the moment they first greeted each other – it"s surreal, absolutely absurd – because Wonwoo swallows him almost completely in one go, Mingyu’s cock meeting with the back of his throat for an instant before Wonwoo starts moving his head fast, relentlessly, not leaving him any room for movements or thoughts.  

Mingyu leans his head back on the wall, trying to not thrust into Wonwoo’s hot mouth and focusing on not coming apart too fast, but it’s a vain attempt, with how Wonwoo swirls his tongue and moans around him. He gets to the edge fast, too fast, so fast that, when Wonwoo stops, he wails, desperate, only for Wonwoo to get back on his feet and plaster his body on his quivering, squirmy one once again.  

He mouths at Mingyu’s neck, rolls his hips in a way that makes him grip his waist in a bruising way, a second away from starting to beg.  

Then, Wonwoo’s mouth is on his ear, hands buried into his hair to keep him still.  

“If I asked you to bend me over this sink and fuck me, would you do it?”  

Mingyu shivers, both from Wonwoo talking – low, seductive, voice raspy from sucking his cock – and from the words that came out from his addicting mouth.  

“Yes. God. Fuck, yes. Please.”  

Before rolling them over and comply to Wonwoo’s request, Mingyu distinctly feels Wonwoo’s smile burning against his damp skin.  

Twelve days.  

Mingyu isn’t counting, but after twelve days of not hearing from Wonwoo, he’s come to terms with the fact that that hook up at the party was exactly that and nothing more. It"s true that they didn’t exchange contacts after what happened – honestly, Mingyu wasn’t in the right mind to think about anything at all, and he’s actually surprised he managed to return home safely, his mind and senses still full of Wonwoo – but Wonwoo could have easily found Mingyu’s one through his manager or his agency. Maybe Mingyu could have done the same, but he felt like his position was a little bit different from Wonwoo’s one.  

Moreover, Wonwoo has been very clear, that night: he found Mingyu hot since the moment he met him, and now that he got what he wanted from him, he wasn’t interested in anything more. He couldn’t possibly be, or he would have asked for Mingyu’s number before parting ways.  

It"s fair. Wonwoo doesn’t owe him anything.  

And they don’t know each other well enough to justify anything more than plain sexual attraction, even on Mingyu’s part. Yes, he’s never felt with anybody a pull so strong as with Wonwoo, and Mingyu would definitely love to repeat the experience, but it’s normal, after hooking up with a guy so handsome.   

It was– perfect. Even as a quick fuck inside a public bathroom – a pretty fancy one, but still – it was absolutely perfect. Wonwoo moaning his name as Mingyu was thrusting into him. Meeting his heated gaze in the mirror when they came.  

Mingyu can’t stop thinking about it.  

But, after twelve days, he realized that it isn’t likely to happen again.  

Running into the building where there is the studio for today’s shooting, he’s half spacing out – still thinking about Wonwoo – half sprinting to not be late, and inevitably runs into a man as soon as he turns the first corner. The impact is not as hard as to send them flying, but not so light either, and Mingyu massages absentmindedly his chest as he apologizes to the man he’s just run into.  

The man is currently crouching down to pick up the bag that fell due to the impact, so that Mingyu can only see a mop of straight, black hair and a figure engulfed into a big sweater.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, the clock ticking into his mind and reminding him he’s going to be late. “I was in a hurry and I didn’t look where I was going.”  

“It’s okay, I wasn’t looking either.”  

After apologizing, Mingyu was ready to fly to the shooting, but– that voice. It can’t be.  

“Wonwoo-ssi...?”  

The man in front of him raises his head with a snap, and Mingyu has to double check, because... this person looks like Wonwoo, and at the same time he doesn’t, with his fluffy hair and square, big glasses. He has nothing of the sensual creature Mingyu knows as Jeon Wonwoo, and yet that voice... that voice is unmistakable.  

“Mingyu?” Wonwoo says with wide eyes. It"s an expression Mingyu has never seen on his face, and it’s the perfect excuse for him to open and close his mouth a few times, no words coming out.  

Between the surprise in finding Wonwoo here – completely unjustified, given they work in the same field and it was natural to meet again, eventually – and the surprise in seeing him looking so different in his personal clothes, the biggest shock for Mingyu comes from the complete absence of the awkwardness he’d expected in meeting again a past hook-up who hasn’t contacted him ever since.  

Wonwoo looks genuinely surprised to see him, and the way his hands – they are as pretty as Mingyu remembers – are clenching onto his bag speaks more of nervousness than annoyance or disinterest.  

“Are you hurt?”  

Wonwoo shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something but then his phone rings, making him grimace.  

“I’m sorry,” he says silencing the phone with a quick movement of his thumb, “I have a meeting for a shooting and I’m already late, so...” he trails off, frowning.  

“Oh. Of course, yes.”  

“Then...” Wonwoo slides him one last look, something unclear passing in his eyes. The surprise left place to something Mingyu can’t identify with precision, but Wonwoo doesn’t seem happy.  

Maybe Mingyu is reading this wrong, but, even if he is, he doesn’t want Wonwoo to walk away once again without him trying to get a second encounter.  

And if Wonwoo isn’t interested, then Mingyu will have to deal with it, but at least he’ll know.  

“Wonwoo, wait,” he says dropping the formalities, and Wonwoo stops in his track. “Are you free for lunch? I have a shooting now, but it won’t take long and...”  

I want to see you again.  

Wonwoo looks at him for a beat, and his phone starts to ring again. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t silence it, his mouth forming a small smile.  

“Yeah, I think I can make it. 1 p.m. at the place on the other side of the street?”  

He gives Mingyu just the time to nod before running away, and Mingyu releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His phone starts to ring, too.   

He"s awfully late but, somehow, he can’t bring himself to care.  

The place Wonwoo choose is literally on the other side of the road, and is nothing like the place Mingyu would expect a supermodel to go. It is a relatively quiet restaurant, with large windows overlooking the street and light wooden furniture, a familiar, relaxing atmosphere.  

Mingyu, having arrived first, tried to get the most private table they had, obtaining a seat from which the rest of the room can still clearly be seen. Apparently, Wonwoo has no problem in getting recognized, nor to be seen in public at lunch with Mingyu, and Mingyu isn’t sure whether this is a good thing or not.  

Any thoughts fly out of his head as his eyes set on Wonwoo’s figure entering the restaurant, looking exactly like a few hours ago. The hands that are gripping onto his bag are covered by the long sleeves of his sweater, even if it’s only the beginning of fall.  

Breath leaves Mingyu’s lungs when Wonwoo’s eyes widen as he spots him and joins him at the table, sitting with a small, apologetic smile.  

“Sorry. Have you been waiting long?”  

Mingyu shakes his head, trying to regain an appearance of normalcy, to not hyper fixate on the way Wonwoo is looking at him as if he really is worried about having made him wait too long.  

“I"ve just arrived. They didn’t have a more private table, though.”  

Wonwoo gives him a confused look for a beat, then looks around the rest of the room.   

“Oh, I know. It’s not a problem, people don’t really recognize me that much.” 
Mingyu would like to reply that it’s quite unlikely, but gets interrupted by the waiter asking for their orders. After Mingyu orders a shrimp pasta and Wonwoo – without even looking at the menu – a chicken pesto one, silence falls between them, until their eyes meet and Wonwoo smiles, embarrassed. He doesn’t look like a chatterbox, and Mingyu– it seems like every time he’s with Wonwoo, his brain refuses to cooperate. 

“Do you come here often?”  

“Sometimes I do, when I’m around here. It"s quiet, I like it.”  

Mingyu scans the room one more time, the nice light, the plants hanging from the ceiling, the light interior. A few hours ago, he would have never placed Jeon Wonwoo – the model, handsome, mysterious, who went down on him the second time they met – in a place like this.  

But now? This Jeon Wonwoo – pretty, delicate fingers covered by a sweater, gentle eyes behind glasses, subdued smile – is a whole different story.  

The collar of the t-shirt that can be seen from under Wonwoo’s sweater is slightly crooked. Mingyu’s hands are itching to fix it, but their food arrives just in time.  

Mingyu shouldn’t be surprised, by now, but even the way Wonwoo eats is devastating.  

He takes the smallest bites of food, as if his mouth can’t open wide enough to take more – it can. It definitely can, Mingyu knows it. Every time Wonwoo raises his hand to bring food to his mouth, his sleeve lowers slightly to uncover a thin, almost fragile wrist. However, Mingyu remembers very well how much strength lies behind those small wrists, the sheer force with which they drew him to their owner to kiss him.  

It’s hard, trying to reconcile the different versions of Wonwoo Mingyu has met.  

The Wonwoo at work was polite, quiet, mysterious. Magnetic.  

The Wonwoo at the party was sensual, enigmatic and cheeky at the same time. There was a fire in him, with the way he pulled Mingyu in, branded himself on him. Eating him alive with his eyes.  

And then, this Wonwoo. Subdued, soft, gentle. Covered in a big sweater despite not being that cold outside. Smacking his lips softly after every sip of water. It’s not about the glasses, or the comfortable clothes, neither the bare face. Seeing this version of him is maybe more familiar, more intimate. It"s going to hurt a lot more, now, if they end up not seeing each other again.  

This Wonwoo is different, but beautiful. Still so damn beautiful. That hasn’t changed, the same way the pull Mingyu feels toward him is still the same. The need to grab his hand, to kiss him, to pull him against himself.  

“You don’t like your pasta?”  

Mingyu snaps out of his thoughts, realizing he has hardly eaten anything, too busy just– staring at Wonwoo. Who looks genuinely worried about him not liking his food, and not calling him out for being an absolute creep, with how much he’s staring at him while he’s eating.  

“I...” he’s about to justify himself, then changes his mind. He needs to be transparent, if he wants this to go anywhere. “I’m sorry, but you just look so different, I’m having a hard time reconciling the image I had of you with this one.”  

Wonwoo stares at him long enough that Mingyu starts to think he finally, definitively messed up, but then a short laugh escapes his lips before he covers his mouth with a hand.  

“It’s understandable. Not looking so much like Jeon Wonwoo the supermodel, right now, am I?”  

Wonwoo speaks the last words looking down at his plate, as if he’s embarrassed. As if he’s thinking Mingyu is somehow disappointed in what he’s seeing.  

There is nothing more far from the truth.  

“Nah, you’re still incredibly handsome,” he confesses, as if he needed to. “It’s a bit unfair, actually.”  

Dark eyes flick up on Mingyu’s face, a reminiscence of another day, in a darker place. Mingyu suppresses a shiver.  

“Look who’s talking,” Wonwoo mutters feigning annoyance, but there’s the tiniest, pleased smile on his face as he takes another bit of food . And there is this teasing gleam in his eyes, that makes Mingyu’s stomach clench, hand shaking around his fork still hanging mid-air.   

“Are you sure you’re not a model?”  

The implied compliment is as clear as the sky and, as much as it isn’t the first time somebody expresses appreciation for his looks, Mingyu’s cheeks still heat up as he shakes his head, biting his lips to not smile too broadly.  

“Well, that’s a shame,” Wonwoo says, slowly, eyes burning into him.  

Suddenly, is not that hard anymore, to think that the man in front of him is the same one that asked Mingyu to fuck him in that bathroom. For the first time today, the two images coincide perfectly. Mingyu feels an embarrassing warmth creeping from the back of his neck to the rest of his face, his ears on fire as he shoves a mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth to give his face muscles something to do and not reveal how much Wonwoo saying things like these, looking at him like that, affects him.  

He wonders how clean the bathrooms of the restaurant are and almost chokes.  

Then, Wonwoo puts the fork down on the table, hands starting to fiddle with each other, and he looks at Mingyu in a way that he can only describe as hesitant.  

“I wanted to see you again,” he spats out in a rush, eyes darting around the restaurant and then coming back on him. “I should have asked for your number, that night, but I was...” a quick glance down at his hands, a small bite on his lower lip. Mingyu can’t breathe. “I was a bit out of myself, actually.”  

Wonwoo finishes with a dry, short laugh.  

Mingyu remembers how they parted ways that night, of course he does. Every time he replayed it in his mind, he always came to the conclusion that Wonwoo, as much as he enjoyed having sex with him, wasn’t interested in anything more, after that. How could Mingyu think otherwise, when the sound of the notification of a new text had been enough for Wonwoo to detach himself from him and disappear with only a I really have to go, I’m sorry, muttered at him?  

“It didn’t seem like it,” Mingyu says, trying to not melt under the stare of Wonwoo’s huge, confused eyes. “And, I mean, it’s okay, you weren’t obliged to... I mean, you – we had fun and–”  

“The president of my agency had just arrived and my manager was looking for me since he wanted to greet me.” Wonwoo cuts him off. “And I couldn’t risk for somebody to find us like that.” The way he’s fiddling with his fingers is hypnotizing and adorable at the same time. Mingyu wants to take his hands and kiss every inch of them.  

“I should have been clearer and I surely should have asked for your number, but...” Wonwoo trails off, biting his lips once again. “I really wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t– I don’t usually do that, you know.”  

Mingyu tilts his head interrogatively.  

“Dragging people to hook up into public bathrooms.” Wonwoo specifies with a cute frown. “And, like I said, I wasn’t really– my brain wasn’t functioning properly. Not after... all that.”  

Mingyu tries to recollect all of his memories of that night, to examine them as objectively as he can. He thought he’d done it already, endless hours twirling fragments of sounds and images in his mind, dissecting them, and the result was always the same.   

But now, with this new piece of information, he thinks back at how, after they finished, he was about to move away, feeling his body getting heavy, his legs failing him, and not wanting to crush Wonwoo underneath him. He was about to slip out and move, when Wonwoo blocked him reaching behind himself, mumbling something Mingyu didn’t catch and keeping him there, still inside him. Mingyu couldn’t see his face, pressed on a forearm against the bathroom top over which Mingyu had bended him earlier, chest heaving as he was trying to catch his breath, the other hand still gripping Mingyu’s arm to keep him there.  

Mingyu stayed, then, more than happy to oblige to the tacit request, covering Wonwoo’s whole body with his own while trying to not be too much of a dead weight. Nuzzling lazily the back of his nape, where the hair was damp with sweat and Mingyu’s breath.  

Until Wonwoo’s phone buzzed from inside his jacket, and he read the text that made him go away so hastily.  

But before that– Wonwoo hadn’t wanted him to move, Mingyu realizes.   

“You seemed so confident. I thought you knew what you were doing, so I just assumed you weren’t that interested.”  

Wonwoo laughs. “I was running blindly, I only knew that I wanted–”  

Him. He wanted Mingyu. So much that his brain stopped functioning. Oh, God.  

“I’m not usually like that.” Wonwoo continues, sheepishly. “I’d like to say I behaved so shamelessly because I was drunk, but I didn’t even finish a glass.”  

“I wasn’t, either.” Mingyu clarifies. “I was very much lucid. And, these last days...” he wonders how much he can tell without sounding completely crazy. “These days I started wishing I was. That way, maybe my memories wouldn’t have been so clear. I would have remembered less of what happened.”  

Wonwoo’s eyes widen in the most endearing way, and then he’s leaning in, hands gripping at the table, lips ajar, before he stops himself. Shyly, Mingyu reaches one of his hands with his own, only grazing at the fingertips. Wonwoo sighs. He looks mortified.  

“When I realized that I didn’t ask for your number, I felt so stupid. I could have asked it to my manager, but he’s already been teasing me too much about you." He suppresses another smile. “It seems like I can only behave weirdly, around you. That random greeting the first time, then throwing myself at you and running away. And this morning, too, I was ready to fly without doing anything once again.”  

“If it makes you feel any better, usually I’m a much more skilled conversationalist.” Mingyu jokes, almost cooing when Wonwoo scrunches his nose in a funny way.  

“Yeah, you have the face of a smooth talker.”  

They hey! he lets out in feigned indignance ends up being quite weaker than he intended to, with the way Wonwoo’s fingertips move lightly against his owns, the way he adds softly, “you should really eat your food, though.”  

He nods to Mingyu’s still almost full plate, while his own is empty. He eats quite fast, despite those tiny bits. That, or Mingyu was so busy staring at him that he forgot how to eat. He shoves a big spoonful into his mouth but keeps the hand that’s touching Wonwoo’s one on the table, and Wonwoo doesn’t move away.  

Mingyu doesn’t know what to do with the fact that Wonwoo doesn’t seem bothered by the possibility of someone seeing them like that, even if their hands are just barely touching. He isn’t sure what it means, but he knows that it makes him feel all warm inside, especially with the way Wonwoo has leaned back on his chair and is fondly looking at him as he eats as fast as he can.  

“I can’t believe you’ve never modelled, you know.”  

Mingyu laughs around a particularly juicy shrimp, ears heating up once again.  

“I didn’t say that,” he answers once he’s swallowed. “I did it a few times while I was studying photography, to help some classmates with their own projects.”  

“No wonder they would ask you,” Wonwoo says in a low voice, more to himself than anything.  

“It was fun, but I much prefer being behind the camera.”  

“I get it.” Wonwoo nods at his fork hanging up mid-air, and Mingyu resumes eating. “I studied a bit of photography, back in school, and now I try to bring my camera with me every time I’m free or when I go oversea.”  

“You like taking photos?” Mingyu asks before swallowing, for some reason excited to have a common passion.  

“Mostly of sceneries or random objects, but they’re not any good, of course. I still find it relaxing, anyway, not being the focus, for once. Observing what I like and doing it at my own pace.”  

Mingyu nods in understanding. He started like that, too, he perfectly knows the peace that can be found in immortalizing inanimate objects or landscapes. And he can totally imagine Wonwoo, this Wonwoo in front of him, being engrossed in that kind of activity. Giving the whole attention to something other than himself, for once.  

He’s eager to see them, to see how Wonwoo sees the world.  

“Can I see them?”  

Wonwoo scrunches his whole face. “No, no. Most of them are terrible.”  

“Oh, come on, I’m sure they’re not.”  

Wonwoo shakes his head. “But… I post the best ones on my Instagram, if you’re really in the market for some mediocre photography.”  

“On your Instagram? But I’ve never seen them.”  

Mingyu has blurted it out without thinking, and only after Wonwoo sends him a very knowing gaze he realizes not only that, of course, he was talking about his personal profile, but also that Mingyu has just admitted to religiously stalk his official one.  

“My private one.” Wonwoo clarifies, as if it was needed. “If you want...”  

Mingyu doesn’t let him finish that he’s already flashing out his smartphone, opening his own personal Instagram account, ready to search for his. This – being allowed to follow a personal profile and having, indirectly, access to a way to communicate directly with him – is so good, on so many levels, that he only marginally coos in his mind at Wonwoo’s cute username.  

As soon as Wonwoo gives him access, he’s ready to scroll through the feed, but Wonwoo launches forward and grabs his hand, making him lower the phone.  

“Can you not look at them in front of me? It’s embarrassing.”  

There is a slight whine in his tone, and Mingyu can only obey. In retrospect, maybe it’s better this way: he doesn’t know how he could react if faced with a photo of Wonwoo himself.  

When Wonwoo, visibly relieved, lets his hand go, Mingyu is about to reach back, but then he sees him sighing while looking at his watch.  

“I’m afraid I have to go,” Wonwoo says with a small frown. “I have a flight to Jeju in a few hours and I still haven’t packed anything.”  

It’s reassuring, witnessing his evident annoyance at the idea of going home so early, plus the fact that Mingyu doesn’t even have to insist, to accompany him to the underground parking lot where Wonwoo parked his car this morning. It’s even more reassuring – and it makes Mingyu’s stomach clench pleasantly – the way Wonwoo doesn’t move away when their hands brush as they’re walking side to side.  

Unsurprisingly, Wonwoo’s car is nice and expensive, but doesn’t scream wealth , as subdued as its owner.  

Wonwoo stops in front of the driver door and turns. “Thank you, for today. You even offered me lunch despite being the youngest.”  

Mingyu sways on his feet. Being like this, in an empty parking lot, standing so close to each other, both so reluctant to part ways, the pull is stronger than ever. He could simply– lean down, and kiss him. Wonwoo is only slightly shorter than him, just the right height to kiss comfortably.  

“It was the least I could to, I was the one who invited you.”  

“Yes, you really saved me from my stupid self.”  

Wonwoo smiles, again, he seems to just can’t stop smiling. It’s unreal.  

Finally, Mingyu reaches out and fixes the collar of his shirt. Wonwoo’s eyes follow the movement of his hand until it pulls back, eyes then settling on Mingyu’s features.  

“Right after Jeju, I have some work to do in Japan,” he says quietly. “I’ll be away for a few weeks.”  

We won’t be able to see each other , is the implied consequence.  

“Oh, I see,” Mingyu murmurs in response, and the deject must be evident in his tone, because cold fingertips touch his owns, reassuring. Mingyu takes that hand in his and steps forward until their bodies are separated by a mere inch. There’s something in Wonwoo’s eyes that probably mimics what’s in Mingyu’s. Fondness. Longing. Desire.   

Mingyu takes in the depth of his eyes, the perfect slope of his nose. The curve of his lips and the fullness of his cheeks. His bangs are a bit too long, grazing at the top of his glasses, and the skin around the chin is slightly uneven, with old marks of a breakout.  

Mingyu can’t breathe.  

Wonwoo is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, and Mingyu is aware he’s falling way too fast.  

“Can I text you while you’re away?” he asks, leaning in until his forehead touches Wonwoo’s. “To give you my useless opinion about your photos.”  

Wonwoo chuckles. “Only if you’ll give me your most professional, honest opinion.”  

“I don’t think my opinion matters that much, actually, you know.” He traces small circles on the back of Wonwoo’s hand with his thumb, the other hand moving to rest on his waist.   

“Shut up, you’re amazing at what you do. I really do love your works, and I’m not just saying it because it’s you.”  

Mingyu leans in even more, hand slightly squeezing Wonwoo’s waist, breathing in deeply, surrounded by a faint scent of peaches. His head spins a little.  

“You’d say something nice only because it’s me, then?” he murmurs, nose grazing his.  

Wonwoo only mumbles an assent, before grabbing him by the back of his neck to bring him down and meet his lips.  

The kiss isn’t anything like what they shared the last time – frantic, hot, desperate. It’s slow, each movement deliberate, exploring, and yet, every brush of their mouth is still dazzling, a jolt of electricity through Mingyu’s body. It makes Mingyu tighten his grip on Wonwoo, the other hand surging up to cup his face, make him tilt his head for him.  

It’s everything Mingyu wanted and more, the way Wonwoo pushes their bodies flushed together, and the way they perfectly fit. How Wonwoo sighs against his lips and his hands move up, sliding across Mingyu’s chest and settling on both sides of his neck. Cold fingers brushing Mingyu’s ears, toying with the shorter locks of hair on his nape.  

Their lips glide easily against each other, warm and smooth, until Wonwoo presses higher on his tip toes to deepen the kiss, Mingyu’s lips parting with a low moan. Wonwoo takes advantage of it and slips his tongue into Mingyu’s mouth, licking into it once, twice, before breaking the kiss. He doesn’t move away, keeping their foreheads pressed together, hands not leaving each other’s body, mouths only inches apart while they catch their breath.  

“Can I call you, sometimes?” Mingyu murmurs. Under his hands, he feels the shiver that runs through Wonwoo’s body. “I like your voice. I’m probably going to miss it.”  

Wonwoo huffs a small laugh. “I see, you’re going to miss my voice only, then.”  

Mingyu shakes his head with a whine, melts more against him, arms wrapping firmly around his slim frame. The idea of letting him go, of not being able to see him for so long, is suddenly unbearable.  

Wonwoo tilts his head up, nose brushing against his cheek, his ear.  

“Yes,” he whispers then, moving back to lock their eyes together. “Please, do call me.”  

Another smile, and warm lips meet Mingyu’s once again.  

Mingyu waits for at least 48 hours, before texting Wonwoo.  

Partly, it’s to not come off as desperate – even though he is – but, mostly, it’s because he needs time to digest his Instagram profile.  

In the end, he actually text Wonwoo with the excuse of telling him how good his photos are – and they are, really, Mingyu is not biased when he says it. Wonwoo likes to photograph landscapes, glimpses of the cities he visits, pieces of clear sky between the skyscrapers, small details on street corners. A small flower growing among the bricks of a wall, a sparrow on a bench. He plays with lights in a nostalgic way, makes Mingyu feel like he’s right there next to him.  

Maybe it’s just the way Mingyu feels in general, when it comes to Wonwoo.  

Luckily, Wonwoo doesn’t ask him about the rest of the photos he posts, the more private ones.  

In retrospect, it’s a good thing Mingyu didn’t look at them that day at the restaurant, in front of Wonwoo, because he doesn’t know if he would have been able to repress the shameful sounds that came out of his mouth at Wonwoo’s first selca.  

With the experience of a person who knows which his best angle is but ultimately doesn’t care because he knows he’ll look good anyway, Wonwoo’s selcas are an endless sequence of the same four or five poses, mostly verging on the cute side – messy hair, glasses on, huge eyes and half-pouting mouth – with the occasional cool and unbothered mirror pics, or the sporadic appearance of bedroom eyes that are haunting Mingyu’s most recent dreams.  

Mingyu, hand on his heart, doesn’t know which kind is deadlier.  

However, Wonwoo doesn’t ask and Mingyu doesn’t say anything about his mental breakdown, even though the urge to ask him to send some pictures of himself is getting stronger by the day.  

They start texting on and off, sometimes with several hours passing between messages with how busy they both are – Wonwoo, for being Jeon Wonwoo, but Mingyu, too, his shooting with Wonwoo and the party finally giving its fruits and making job offers come and come.  

Wonwoo texts in the cutest way possible, slightly teasing and bashful at the same time, but with the emoticons of an old man. At some point, he starts sending Mingyu random photos of his day. Ugly pictures of the food he’s eating (more often than not of a semi-empty plate, like he only remembered halfway he wanted to take a picture), the cat he saw in his late-night stroll. Never pictures of his face, though, and Mingyu feels himself going insane as he tries to catch a glimpse of him on every remotely reflective surface that appears in his photos.  

Mingyu has been behaving like a madman and he perfectly knows it, way too invested in something that hasn’t even properly started yet.  

He sighs falling down lazily on his bed, clutching the phone into his hand. It"s been another long, tiring day when he didn’t have time to hear from Wonwoo, and the longing is stronger than usual. It"s been a little more than two weeks since they last saw each other, Wonwoo won’t return before another one, and Mingyu still hasn’t had the courage to call him. It"s true, like he predicted, that he misses his voice, but really, he misses everything.  

He stares at the contact page for a few minutes, still indecisive, before starting the call. Wonwoo still has the chance to not answer him, if he doesn’t want to.   

The phone rings and rings, and Mingyu is about to end the call and cry himself to sleep, when a low voice resonates through the speaker.  

“ Hey.”  

Mingyu lets out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. Just hearing Wonwoo’s voice makes some of his tiredness melt away, and the same time it makes the need to see him, to have him with him more urgent, more painful. He’s being ridiculous, but he can’t stop.  

“Hey,” he answers, at last.  

“ You finally called. ”  

Mingyu grips at his phone harder, hand a bit sweaty from uncertainty. “I was afraid I’d disturb you,” he mumbles, and hears Wonwoo huffing slightly from the other side.  

“ You could never ,” he says then, voice low and soft into Mingyu’s ear. “ Also, I recall to have specifically told you it was okay to call me. ”  

Wonwoo said to please call him, to be more specific, with words warm and sweet before kissing Mingyu goodbye. And despite the fact that Wonwoo has been quite clear, that day, that he wanted to see him again, wanted to hear from him, despite Wonwoo answering his texts whenever he can, even in the middle of the night as soon as he finished his schedules, Mingyu is still unsure about everything, still worried of being a nuisance.  

“Am I disturbing you, then?”  

“ No, of course not. ” There’s some rustling on the other side, then Wonwoo adds, “ I’ve just came back to the hotel, today I finished a bit early. ”  

It’s way past dinner time, but Mingyu doesn’t say it, not after he’s seen at which ungodly hours of the night Wonwoo often writes him back.  

“Is it always like this? Working until the middle of the night.”  

“ Only sometimes. When I’m overseas we try to squeeze in every job we can, so that I don’t have to stay for too long or to come back after a few days. ”  

Then Wonwoo sighs, and it’s followed by the sound of sheets. He’s probably just lied down on his bed, and Mingyu feels something crawling under the skin at the mere thought of it. He wants to see him. Badly. He tells him so, words coming out of his mouth before he can even think to stop them.  

“I mean,” he quickly adds, while Wonwoo hums in an interrogative way, “you’re not posting anything, and you only send me photos of food or cats.” He doesn’t specify how much time he’s spending maniacally examining every single reflection in said photos, only for then going back to Wonwoo’s old selcas.  

“ I’m not that good at photographing myself, you know, ” Wonwoo says, sounding almost coy.  

“That’s a big, fat lie,” Mingyu retorts, in his mind a particular set of photos that made him almost press a pillow onto his face the first time he saw it, Wonwoo’s best example of bedroom eyes, looking at the camera through his lashes, head slightly tilted to his left.  

Wonwoo’s laugh is then followed by a long silence, and Mingyu removes the phone from his ear to see what’s going on, worried that Wonwoo might have just ended the call, when the sign of an incoming videocall flashes on the screen. He manages to not drop the phone on his face by mere luck, and answers the call without even bothering to check the camera’s angle – he fixes it two seconds after, though, as soon as he catches a glimpse of his face on the screen.  

Not that he has the presence of mind to think about how he looks, not with the image of Wonwoo looking at him from his phone, lying on his side on a bed, sleepy eyes and collarbones peeking out from his loose sweater. He looks exhausted, but there’s a small, sheepish smile on his face, a full cheek slightly squished against the pillow. The sight of it makes something squeeze around Mingyu’s heart.  

Mingyu turns on his side, too, to mimic Wonwoo’s pose. Like this, with a bit of imagination, he could think that they’re lying on the same bed, facing each other.  

He wants it so much that it hurts.  

“I was starting to think you’d hang up, you know.”  

“ I just thought this was better than a photo of my face ,” Wonwoo says.  

It’s debatable, really, which option is better. A photo would stay forever in Mingyu’s phone, for him to look at this soft, sleepy, beautiful Wonwoo every time he wants to. A photo taken for Mingyu’s eyes only. But this– seeing him in motion, witnessing every little change in Wonwoo’s features as he talks with Mingyu– yes, this may actually be better. Not for Mingyu’s mental wellbeing, though.  

“You’re right,” he murmurs, settling better on the bed. “I missed your face.”  

“ Not just my voice, then? ” Wonwoo asks, an eyebrow cocking up, teasing.  

“I actually miss you , not just your face or your voice, but I figured I would have scared you away if I told you.”  

He blurts it out without really thinking, exhaustion and longing making his mouth run wild more than usual. However, something softer appears on Wonwoo’s face, Mingyu can see it clearly even through the screen, and it makes his heart ache. It hurts even more when Wonwoo murmurs quietly, “ You wouldn’t have. ”  

A few seconds of silence follow, heavy with what has just been implied, until Wonwoo clears his throat and ask, voice a little more casual but still hushed, “ How was your day? ”  

“It was okay,” he answers in an equally quiet tone. “Worked all day.”  

“ You really are the rising star of the world of photography, aren’t you ” Wonwoo hums.  

He’s not mocking him, Mingyu knows it both from all the times Wonwoo told him how much he finds him good at his job, and from the warmth in his eyes as he’s saying it now. He still huffs, blushing a little, shaking his head in a dismissing way.  

“I had just arrived home from the gym, when I called you,” he adds, more to stop Wonwoo from telling him to not be so humble than anything.  

He was not expecting, however, the sudden glint in Wonwoo’s gaze at his words, lips pursing in amusement for a second.  

“ Oh, getting ready for when I’ll come back? Good boy. ”  

Now Wonwoo is teasing him, plain and evident from the gleam in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the small smirk adorning his face, and it makes Mingyu’s skin crawl with heat, makes him feel dizzy at the mere thought of... everything, really.  

“I–” he starts, voice suddenly hoarse. “This is dangerous.”  

“ What? Thinking about when I’ll be back in Korea, or me calling you a good boy? ”  

Mingyu’s breath hitches. It’s starting to feel a lot like that night at the party, with Wonwoo in control and Mingyu at the complete mercy of his own desires.  

“... both?” he asks, tentatively, and Wonwoo laughs, loud like Mingyu has never heard him, eyes squeezed shut before pressing his face on his pillow for a few seconds.  

Mingyu should feel mortified, maybe, but he finds out he really doesn’t care, not when Wonwoo turns his face back to the phone, gaze both tender and aroused, wanting, and says to him, a whisper with so many hidden meanings behind, “Let’s go to sleep, Mingyu.”  

 
 
Funnily (frustratingly) enough, the first time they manage to see each other after Wonwoo comes back from Japan, it’s for another shooting. 

A part of Mingyu is thrilled, honored even, by the fact that a famous brand wanted him, specifically, to immortalize Wonwoo promoting their latest skincare line. They had “loved” Mingyu’s take on his previous work, how he managed to emphasize both the model and his clothes, but bringing something new to the table. That’s why they absolutely wanted Mingyu, the PR representative had rambled excitedly during their first meeting, because they wanted the photoshoot to bring out a completely different side of Jeon Wonwoo, and they thought Mingyu was the perfect photographer to make it happen.  

However, as much as it’s flattering, it’s terrible.  

It doesn’t matter what a huge step in his career it could be – being the first photographer to bring out a new side of Jeon Wonwoo – not when Mingyu feels like melting on the spot at the first sight of him as he enters the studio, only bowing in Mingyu’s direction as a greeting, small, knowing smile behind his pursed lips.  

There is nothing Mingyu would want to do more than rush to Wonwoo and– touch him, assure he’s real and not a product of Mingyu’s imagination from the last weeks, but instead he has to live through an entire day taking pictures of his beautiful self, all while being very careful of not letting his touch linger as he fixes Wonwoo’s hand, of not telling him he’s the most beautiful human on the planet every two seconds.  

Mingyu has to restrain himself, giving Wonwoo directions in the most formal, professional way he can manage, periodically telling him how well he’s doing – not that he really needs to, with how the rest of the staff can’t seem to stay calm and collected while witnessing Jeon Wonwoo’s smile. It"s maddening.  

The novel “touch” the brand wanted, the new side of Jeon Wonwoo they wanted to be revealed is nothing other than Wonwoo wrapped in cozy, light colored cardigans, sunlight shining on him as he smiles softly at the camera. It’s sheer agony, how Mingyu has to lean in to capture him lying down, head and arm resting on a white pillow, soft looking hair parted in the middle, lips curled into the sweetest smile known to mankind. It’s a new kind of Wonwoo for the general public, but not so much for Mingyu, and that makes it even worse, because every inch of him – mind, gut, instinct – is screaming at him to stroke his hair, to caress the fingertips peeking from the creamy sleeves, to capture those lips with his own.  

Everything is terrible.  

And Wonwoo, oh, Wonwoo.  

Not only he’s rocking this new concept – of course he is, Mingyu isn’t surprised in the slight – and Mingyu is forced to work surrounded by his staff gushing over the model, squealing and sighing dreamily at every new picture that appears on the screen (Mingyu gets them, he really does, but it’s frankly painful, not being able to join them in their blatant admiration), but he’s also a whole lot more professional than Mingyu, not letting anything transpire from his expression.  

And what if Mingyu is about to crumble down when he has to hover over Wonwoo as he’s lying down and Wonwoo just– hugs a pillow to his chest, eyes closed and a blissed face, sunlight shining on him, making him glow. What if Mingyu’s mind is suddenly filled with images of Wonwoo being like this but in Mingyu’s bed.  

What if his breath leaves his lungs altogether when Wonwoo reopens his eyes and gives him, just for an instant, a look that is everything but professional. It"s like being punched in the guts, thoughts running wild while he tries to calm down, to not make it obvious.  

For the first time, Mingyu greets the end of the shooting with a relieved sigh, immediately going to fix his equipment after he manages to free himself from the enthusiastic brand representative. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t come to greet him personally – thank god for that – going directly into his changing room after a generic greeting to the whole staff.  

He’s carefully putting all his lenses back into their bags, when his phone buzzes with a new text, Wonwoo asking him if he wants to come over later and attaching the position of his apartment.  

Mingyu is too busy gaping at his phone screen, insides squeezing pleasantly and a single drop of sweat trailing down his back, that he doesn’t notice the shadow looming over him and gets startled when he hears Minghao’s voice.  

“Something happened.”  

“Huh?” Mingyu mumbles densely as he fumbles to put his phone away without dropping it on the floor.  

Minghao is staring at him with his arms crossed over his purple, fuzzy cardigan, a very unimpressed look on his face.  

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks, but today you reached a new level. It’s actually unbearable to look at.”  

He’s frowning, and Mingyu giggles nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

“Did you finally get laid?”  

It sounds very much like an insult, and maybe it is, at least partially. Mingyu doesn’t care, because, well, he actually got laid, and it’s most probably going to happen again in a matter of hours.  

“You’re so rude,” he pouts anyway, “but yeah...” he trails off, enjoying just a little how Minghao’s eyes widen slightly. “Me and Wonwoo-hyung are kinda seeing each other? Well, not really, since he’s being out of the country for the last weeks, but you get it.”  

There are five full seconds of silence, Minghao looking at him as if he just sprouted a second head.  

“Wonwoo- hyung ,” he says in the end, voice monotone. “As in Jeon Wonwoo. The model.”  

Mingyu nods. “Him.”  

Minghao is frozen, he could easily pass as a statue.  

“You’re joking, right.”  

It’s not a question, so Mingyu shoves the phone in his face, the conversation with Wonwoo still open, and it takes just a few second for Minghao’s face to peek hastily from behind the screen, eyes comically huge and mouth agape. It’s not an everyday sight, and Mingyu relishes in it.  

“Since when?” he asks, sounding positively breathless.  

“Remember that party for which you helped me with the outfit? Oh, by the way, thank you for that suit, I think he liked it.” He grins, and Minghao looks like he’s about to pop a vein.  

“And you’re telling me now ?” Minghao practically shrieks, a manic twinkle in his eyes.  

He looks a bit crazy and a bit impressed, and Mingyu feels very proud of himself, so he just giggles in his face and gives his full attention back to the phone, carefully proceeding to choose the cutest, most enthusiastic emojis to reinforce his answer to Wonwoo that yes, of course he wants to go to his house.  

When Mingyu gets to Wonwoo’s apartment, he finds him opening the door with his coat still on, having arrived just a few minutes before him. 

Despite having spent the whole day staring at his face, Mingyu’s heart still skips a few beats in seeing him giving a small, tired smile and a quiet “hey.”  

“Hi,” Mingyu says, equally soft, as if they haven’t greeted each other multiple times already, today.  

Wonwoo huffs a little through his nose and nods towards the inside of the apartment, Mingyu following him inside as Wonwoo removes his coat and throws it on the back of a big, grey couch.  

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks as he takes Mingyu’s coat, too, and put it next to his own, but with much more care. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of food to offer.”  

“Oh, don’t worry.” Mingyu reassures him, curious gaze roaming through the room. From what he can see, Wonwoo’s living space reminds him a lot of his car, extremely nice and modest at the same time, big windows overlooking the city and simple, lightly colored interiors. “You just came back after weeks, I wasn’t expecting you to have your fridge full.”  

Wonwoo scrunches his nose, back resting against the couch. “No, it’s just that I don’t really cook in general.”  

Mingyu laughs, delighted. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m pretty good at cooking.”  

Whether it is for having been called hyung or for the idea of Mingyu cooking for him, Wonwoo smiles again, this time looking way less exhausted.  

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it.”  

Mingyu steps nearer, dares to grab Wonwoo’s sleeve between the tips of his index and thumb. He"s wearing a lilac sweater that looks incredible on him – but then again, what doesn’t - the city lights coming from the windows into the dimly lit room making him look ethereal. Mingyu has spent hours closely examining Wonwoo’s face, and yet every time it’s like the first one, his breath getting caught in his throat in a painful way.  

“I missed you,” he confesses once again, this time less scared than the one on the phone, days ago.  

“Mingyu, we’ve just spent the whole day together.” Wonwoo narrows his eyes, a teasing gleam in them.  

“Don’t mention it, it was pure agony,” Mingyu whines pedantically, his face scrunching at the memory. Wonwoo laughs as he draws him closer. “You were so incredibly gorgeous and I wanted to kiss you so badly, but I couldn’t, and everybody was–” His words get stopped by the press of Wonwoo’s fingers on his parted lips.  

“I missed you too.”   

It’s the first time Wonwoo actually says it, and it makes his heart skip a beat. Mingyu smiles against his fingertips, hand reaching up to curl around Wonwoo’s narrow wrist, not even trying to hide the way his eyes linger on Wonwoo’s full bottom lip. Wonwoo returns the smile and lowers his hand, fingers brushing the curve of Mingyu’s jaw, and then lower, down the side of his neck. He lets out a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to rest his hands on Wonwoo’s waist, to bring him closer, as Wonwoo gets to the open collar of his shirt, quickly working the buttons open.  

When he feels cold, long fingers on his bare sides, slipping beneath the shirt and sliding along his waist, Mingyu belatedly realizes, a lighting striking in his brain, that they’ve never seen of each other more than vague glimpse of skin through clothes, they’ve never pressed their bodies together without barriers. It could be the reason of his pants tightening at the mere touch of Wonwoo’s hands against his bare skin, of the shaky breath that leaves his lips as he finally reaches out and puts a hand on Wonwoo’s hip, the other on his arm.   

However, he suspects his reactions to Wonwoo will always be like this. Potent, overwhelming, annihilating.  

The look on Wonwoo’s face while revealing Mingyu’s skin is both focused and hungry, it leaves Mingyu lightheaded, his body swaying as Wonwoo finally tucks the shirt out of his slacks. His fingers rest for a second at the top button of Mingyu’s pants, eyes darting up to his face, and he presses a quick kiss on the left corner of Mingyu’s mouth before murmuring against his skin. “Okay?”  

A shaky nod, and Wonwoo resumes his work, quickly unbuttoning Mingyu’s pants, opening them enough to slip his hands beneath the fabric. His breath is warm against Mingyu’s neck as he pushes the pants down his hips, fingers spread on his skin. Mingyu closes his eyes, already completely lost in Wonwoo’s touch, and he lets himself being pressed against the back of the couch, groaning when he feels hot lips on his neck.  

When Wonwoo moves back just enough to look at him, Mingyu’s pants falling on the floor, there’s a small smirk on his face, but the effect is ruined by how breathless Wonwoo already is, and just by undressing Mingyu.  

“Let’s see,” he says, voice hoarse, “if you’ve been diligently going to the gym.” And he slides the sleeves of the shirt down on Mingyu’s arm, freeing him of the fabric in a swift motion.  

In any other situation, with Mingyu not so aroused, it would have been comical, the strangled sound that comes out of Wonwoo’s mouth, how his eyes widen as he lets them roam on Mingyu’s chest, arms, abs, then back on his face, bewildered.  

Mingyu almost laughs when Wonwoo says “I really have to apologize. In my thoughts I’ve never really done you justice.”   

But he can’t laugh, not when Wonwoo looks at him with such want , not when Wonwoo is immediately onto him again, a low, pleased growl as he bends lower and mouths a wet line down Mingyu’s chest, between his pecs, hands now warm on his sides. Mingyu is aching inside his underwear, he sinks his fingers into Wonwoo’s soft hair, moans loudly when Wonwoo mutters a curse against his skin, lips sliding lower until he’s mouthing at Mingyu’s pectoral.  

Wonwoo"s grip on him his strong, bruising, and Mingyu is feeling drunk with arousal. He"d like to do something, to reciprocate the touches, but he finds himself unable to, putty in Wonwoo’s hands. He arches his back with another moan as Wonwoo closes his mouth on his left nipple, flicking it with his tongue, making his insides boil, a tingle down his spine.  

“Wonwoo,” he gasps roughly when he feels a hint of teeth on his nipple. He must have sounded desperate enough, because Wonwoo pulls away, lips red and shiny, eyes dark. Mingyu doesn’t resist, and he grabs Wonwoo by the back of his head to pull him up again and press their mouths together in a rough but quick kiss.  

Then, Wonwoo takes his hand with an intent look, and Mingyu, after clumsily wrestling out of the pants piled up around his ankles, lets himself been brought to Wonwoo’s bedroom and made to seat on the edge of his bed.  

A part of him feels impatient, down to just his underwear which is getting ruined from his dick straining under the fabric, with Wonwoo still fully clothed, standing between Mingyu’s legs. The other part, however, wants to take it as slowly as he can, exploring and touching everything, unlike their first time together.  

He reaches out to drag Wonwoo closer by the back of his thighs, hands sliding up until they’re on his hips, moving towards the opening of his pants. His eyes don’t leave Wonwoo’s as he frees him from his pants and curls his hands again around his slim thighs. Mingyu’s head spins a little when he sees how his hands are as large of Wonwoo’s thighs, the contrast between his slightly tanned skin and Wonwoo’s pale, milky one. He closes his eyes blissfully, reveling on the sigh that leaves Wonwoo’s lips as he presses a short kiss on his left thigh.  

When Mingyu looks up again, Wonwoo’s chest is heaving as he removes his sweater and tee in one swift motion, finally left with his underwear only.  

And Mingyu has to take a minute to collect himself because, even with his clothes on, it’s clear that Wonwoo has a nice body, but nothing, nothing , could have prepared Mingyu to this. Broad, big shoulders, toned arms and chest, a faint hint of abs, and then the smallest, most delicious waist, before long, slender legs.  

Wonwoo looks otherworldly, with the lights of the city shining on him, standing in front of Mingyu with that breathless, wanting look.  

“How are you even real,” Mingyu rasps out.  

Wonwoo lets out a small laugh. “I don’t think you’re allowed to say anything about my appearance anymore, not when you look like this .”  

Mingyu shakes his head, hands tightening on Wonwoo’s hips.  

“It’s not just about your looks, you know.” Mingyu slides his hands up, his thumbs making small circles on the protruding hipbones. “It’s… it’s everything about you, really.” He doesn’t know how to word it properly, and he’s aware that it’s all too fast, that texting for a few weeks with someone doesn’t mean knowing them, doesn’t justify being this invested. But he knows that it’s not just plain physical attraction. “I know it’s too soon, but–” he stops, unsure of whether to continue.  

Wonwoo is staring, a small frown on his gorgeous face, and Mingyu is ready to apologize for having ruined the mood, when Wonwoo reaches out to push back a strand of hair from Mingyu’s forehead, thumb swiping softly over his eyebrow, hand cupping the back of his head. His expression is undecipherable as he silently caresses Mingyu’s face.  

“Won–”  

Mingyu’s words get caught in his throat as Wonwoo steps in to press a knee on the edge of the bed, next to Mingyu’s leg, and then leans down to press a sweet, long kiss on his lips, fingers running through his hair. He sucks softly at Mingyu’s bottom lip before moving away just enough to look into his eyes.  

“I like you,” Wonwoo murmurs fervently, hot breath on Mingyu’s lips. “I like you a lot.”  

With a shameful, desperate little sound, Mingyu wraps an arm around his back to bring him nearer and kiss him with a long press of his lips. Wonwoo lets him, curls his hand better in Mingyu’s hair with a hum, and then pulls back slightly, both hands settling lower on the sides of Mingyu’s neck and meets his eyes. Mingyu shudders as Wonwoo looks down at his mouth, a light brush of his nose against Mingyu’s before leaning in slowly and kissing him again, sucking in a breath the moment their lips meet.  

Mingyu swallows a whimper as he kisses back, tilting his head to get a better angle, closing his lips around Wonwoo’s bottom one, a sigh when Wonwoo’s tongue prods him to part his lips. The sounds of their quickened breaths fill the room when Mingyu presses on Wonwoo’s back to pull him down so that he’s properly straddling him, his slim legs pressed on either side of Mingyu’s on the mattress.  

Wonwoo breaks the kiss to look at Mingyu’s face once more, something in his eyes that makes Mingyu’s heart clench. He drags a hand up from the base of Mingyu’s neck to his cheek, cupping it gently, fingers grazing the skin just below his ear, and he lowers himself to rest atop Mingyu’s thighs.  

Mingyu lets his hands roam on the wide expanse of Wonwoo’s back, relishing in the soft touches over his face, in Wonwoo’s sweet humming, and the feeling of having Wonwoo on top of him is dizzying, but still not enough.  

“I…” he starts, breath catching as Wonwoo smooths his thumb over the shell of his ear and kisses his cheekbone. “I want...”  

“What?” Wonwoo says against his skin. “What do you want, Mingyu?”  

“More.” It’s the only thing he manages to say, but either Wonwoo isn’t a teaser, or he, too, is starting to feel impatient, because he brings his hips down and slowly rolls them against Mingyu’s, the hardness of his arousal unmistakable.  

With a groan, Mingyu brings his hands down to grab at Wonwoo’s ass, pushing him in to better feel the pressure, and Wonwoo crashes onto him with so much force that he sends Mingyu to lie back on the bed, hovering over him while looking like an apparition, locks of soft hair falling on his forehead and lips parting with a sigh as he settles over Mingyu’s middle.  

Mingyu’s hands move back to circle Wonwoo’s waist, thumbs moving against the thin fabric of his underwear, chest heaving as Wonwoo smoothers his hands down his chest once again, pressing on his pecs, grazing at his ribs, and then dragging his fingers back up to the peaks of his nipples. He lightly pinches one of them and Mingyu has to force himself to not snap his hips forward, biting back a growl as he glances down at their clothed erections, so close to each other but still not close enough.  

As if Wonwoo is having the very same thought, he slips a hand under the fabric of Mingyu’s underwear, Mingyu jerking instinctively as a soft palm bumps the head of his cock, breath hitching when long fingers curls around him to stroke him slowly. Wonwoo’s eyes are roaming all over his body, going from Mingyu’s face, to his heaving chest and muscles spasming as he tries to restrain himself from thrusting into Wonwoo’s hand, to his own hand moving on Mingyu’s length.  

It"s hotter than it should be, Mingyu completely losing himself in Wonwoo’s touch, and it only gets worse when Wonwoo moves his free hand to his mouth and slides the thumb against Mingyu’s bottom lip.  

“I want you so much, you have no idea.” His voice is so low and dark, makes something inside Mingyu rumble with need. “I haven’t stopped thinking about this for the past month.”  

Mingyu swallows, unable to find his voice to answer, so he parts his lips, grazing the tip of Wonwoo’s finger with his teeth, a soft bite before wrapping his lips around it. He shudders in pleasure seeing Wonwoo’s mouth opening with a shaky breath, eyes widening as he pushes his thumb forward, prodding Mingyu to open wider, and presses on his tongue. Mingyu leans into it, moaning softly as he sucks at the finger inside his mouth once, twice, before sliding back.  

“Can we take these off?” he asks, Wonwoo’s wet thumb falling from his lips.  

Wonwoo blinks at him, looking dazed. He"s not following him, and, under all the arousal, Mingyu feels a little proud. He taps at Wonwoo’s boxer briefs to get the message across, a gentle rock of hips upwards. Wonwoo opens the mouth in a silent gasp and lifts his hips just enough to allow them both to wriggle free from the underwear.  

Mingyu has barely the time to throw the piece of clothing away, barely has the time to admire the sight of a completely naked Wonwoo in front of him, that Wonwoo is onto him again, pressing against him with another roll of his hips, rubbing his bare cock against Mingyu’s, a moan erupting from both their lips. Wonwoo falls forward, a hand braced against Mingyu’s chest and the other on the mattress to hold his weight. He grinds down again, and Mingyu bites back a growl, digging his fingers in the smooth skin of  Wonwoo’s thighs and rolling his hips upwards, the friction between their naked arousals maddening.   

Wonwoo arches his back with another moan, and Mingyu feels like he’s about to lose his mind.  

“Wonwoo,” he pants, sliding his hands higher on Wonwoo’s legs, close, so close to his length. “Fuck, I want– I need–”  

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Wonwoo nods, fervently, his hips seemingly unstoppable in their undulating motion. “Tell me what you want.”  

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, crude, but Wonwoo doesn’t seem to mind, not with the soft noise that he makes in response. “Or you could fuck me?” Mingyu adds right after without thinking much. He rarely bottoms, but the mere idea of having Wonwoo inside him is enough to make him feel faint. He wants anything that Wonwoo is willing to give him.  

“Oh God,” Wonwoo mutters and plants a quick, open-mouthed kiss on him, before giving Mingyu a look that makes him squirm in nervous anticipation.  

“Do you?” Mingyu asks, voice way softer and way less sensual than he’d like. “Do you want to fuck me?”  

“I do.” Wonwoo’s voice resonates through his whole body. “But not this time.”  

Mingyu’s eyes flutter close for a second as he presses one more kiss on Wonwoo’s lips, trembling with both the anticipation of what is going to happen and with the promise of a next time. Wonwoo indulges in his kisses for a beat, and then he’s stretching over to retrieve some lube and condom, placing them on the mattress before settling back on top of Mingyu’s body.   

This time, Mingyu doesn’t make any effort to keep his hands to himself, immediately reaching for Wonwoo, a hand firmly on his ass and the other going to his cock, curling around the hot flesh and giving it a light stroke that makes Wonwoo tremble over him. Mingyu drags his fingers down the length, following its ridges, pressing on hard, smooth skin and Wonwoo shoves his hips forward with a low grunt. Mingyu starts stroking him fully, from the base to the already leaking tip, and he feels like losing any bit of the sanity he had left with the way Wonwoo is thrusting into his hand, abdominal muscles tensing up with each movement, eyes roaming around the room, unable to focus.  

“God, you’re perfect,” Mingyu growls, and Wonwoo bites back a smile before gasping loudly the moment Mingyu thrusts his hips upwards, sliding his hardness along the cleft of Wonwoo’s ass, grazing at his entrance.   

“Min– Mingyu.” Wonwoo wraps a hand around Mingyu’s wrist, stopping his strokes. “I won’t last if you keep going.”  

For an instant, Mingyu thinks about keep stroking him, making Wonwoo come all over his fingers, and then fuck him through oversensitivity until he comes a second time. But Wonwoo is still moving his ass back against Mingyu’s cock, and he’s well aware that he, too, is not going to last long.  

He indulges himself in another slow stroke as he takes the lube with the other hand. Wonwoo barely gives him the time to properly lube up his fingers, that he’s already guiding Mingyu’s hand towards his entrance, shuddering when Mingyu apply a light pressure on it. A low whimper leaves his lips when Mingyu slowly pushes his index finger inside him, inch after inch, and then Wonwoo is looking at him with a dazed smile, panting.  

“I remembered well, your fingers are so thick.”  

Mingyu growls, hips jerking. “You’ve been thinking about them?”  

Wonwoo nods, closing his eyes again as Mingyu starts moving his finger in and out of him, stretching him.  

“I have. You have no idea how much.”  

The knowledge is devastating. Mingyu wonders if, during his stay in Japan, alone in his hotel room, Wonwoo has gotten off while thinking about him. Fingered himself imagining Mingyu’s short, thick fingers instead of his owns. He"d want to ask him about it, but he’s too far gone to, especially with Wonwoo moving his hips and asking for more.  

Mingyu adds one more finger, and Wonwoo only needs a few seconds to adjust, biting his lips and staring at the ceiling, and then he spreads his legs and pushes his hips back. It"s an inebriating sight, Wonwoo chasing his fingers, trembling with effort, soft sighs continuously leaving his lips.  

He"s gorgeous, devastatingly so. Mingyu suddenly itches with the need of taking his camera, his phone, anything, and immortalize him in this very moment, beautiful and lost in pleasure.  

Next time. Next time, if Wonwoo is okay with it.  

The muscles in Mingyu’s arm start to burn with the way he’s working Wonwoo open, but it’s worth it when he manages to curl his fingers just right and Wonwoo’s whole body spasms, his mouth drops open with a moan, fingers scrambling at Mingyu’s chest.  

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” Wonwoo says, already opening a condom and reaching back to roll it down on Mingyu’s cock and smear some lube on it. He winches slightly when Mingyu removes his fingers and get them to join Wonwoo’s ones on his cock, helping him to guide it towards his entrance, the other going back on Wonwoo’s waist.  

It"s so different from that time at the party, both drunk with arousal, fully clothed, using spit as lube, fucking in a rush not knowing if they’d ever have a second chance at it. This time there is a sensual intent in every move, it’s slower, and yet hotter than the first time, even more desperate.  

Wonwoo moves so that the tip of Mingyu’s cock is rubbing against his entrance, gasping as he circles his hips over him, and Mingyu arches his back with a jolt, dropping his hands to Wonwoo"s thighs. He tips his head back to keep his eyes locked on Wonwoo’s, who’s staring at him biting his plump, pink bottom lip, gone and wanting.  

“Fuck, I need you,” Mingyu rasps out, and Wonwoo’s expression flickers with something he can’t name, eyes fluttering close as he starts sliding down the same moment Mingyu thrusts up. Mingyu"s breath catches in his throat as he slowly slides inside Wonwoo, grasps at his trembling legs, body jerking as Wonwoo continues to sit down on him.  

“Are you okay?” he whispers, reaching up to massage the small of Wonwoo’s back. Wonwoo lets out a long breath and nods, sinking down further until Mingyu is completely inside, a quiet moan resonating in the room.   

Mingyu tries to stay still, waits for Wonwoo to settle, to breathe, and then reaches up to gently cup his face in a hand, caressing his cheekbone with his thumb, his full bottom lip. Wonwoo takes his finger into his mouth for a brief second, eyes opening again to lock into his, a small smile on his lips as he raises up just a little before sliding back down, and then again and again, building a slow pace with every roll of his hips. Mingyu meets him halfway with every thrust, one hand steady on his waist and the other sliding down from his face to his chest, feeling Wonwoo"s heart beating furiously under his skin, and then twisting a nipple between two fingers.   

Wonwoo sucks in a gasp, arching into Mingyu’s touch.  

“Mingyu...” he breathes rolling his hips down, eyes unfocused. “Fuck, you feel so good.”  

Mingyu bites back a moan at the praise and bends his knees, firmly planting his feet on the mattress to get more leverage as he pushes his hips up with force, and Wonwoo falls forward with his loudest moan yet, Mingyu catching him by wrapping his arms around him. Wonwoo"s hands scramble to grip at Mingyu’s shoulders, mouth frantically searching for his to meet in a messy, loud kiss as Mingyu keeps thrusting into him.  

“Don’t stop, god, don’t stop,” Wonwoo whines incoherently into his mouth, pushing his hips back to meet with Mingyu’s thrusts, hands going to tangle into his hair.  

It"s perfect, everything is perfect and Mingyu can’t take it anymore. He manages to slip a hand between their bodies to curl around Wonwoo and starts stroking him fast and hard, angling his hips until he finally finds his spot again, and Wonwoo squirms over him, around him, desperate little sounds leaving his mouth.  

“Yes, like that,” Mingyu murmurs, delirious, twisting his hand and fastening his pace, thighs aching, blood boiling. “Just like that, come for me.”  

One more thrust, and Wonwoo moans Mingyu’s name, his whole body tensing up, pulsing into Mingyu’s grip as he comes, shooting a long, hot stripe between their abdomens, trembling and whimpering as he keeps twitching and coming.  

Even after his orgasm, Wonwoo keeps riding him, murmuring sweet nothings into Mingyu’s ear to encourage him, clenching around him, Mingyu’s release building and building into the pit of his stomach, until he can’t hold any longer and surrenders, spilling into Wonwoo as he finds his mouth again for a deep, wet kiss, struggling to breath, emptying himself inside Wonwoo with every thrust.  

They stay joined, wrapped firmly into each other’s arms, for several minutes while they try to catch their breath. It"s only once Wonwoo seems to be breathing normally once again that Mingyu gently uncurl his grip and moves to slip out of his warmth, kissing away his whine and making him lie on the bed next to him. He swipes a drop of sweat off Wonwoo’s face, stomach clenching when Wonwoo’s eyes flutter close and he leans into the touch.  

A shiver, this time from feeling cold, runs through Wonwoo, and Mingyu wants nothing more than slip under the covers and fall asleep with Wonwoo in his arms. However, they’re filthy.  

“We should shower,” he murmurs without much conviction, and Wonwoo gives him a disdainful look.  

“I disagree. I’ll do it later, now I’m too tired.” And he snuggles better on the bed, wrapping a small flap of the sheet around himself.  

Mingyu playfully pokes his cheek. “You’re a bit of a lazy bum, aren’t you.”  

Wonwoo only hums, lips pursed and a delighted gleam in his eyes. “Later,” he repeats before closing his eyes with a content smile.  

Mingyu strokes his hair gently, hoping to lull him into sleep, admiring his beautiful bare face, soft and relaxed. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to Wonwoo’s beauty, to his charming personality, or if he’s always going to get his breath stolen by the gorgeous man beside him.  

Before realizing, Mingyu has his phone in his hand and is snapping quick pictures of Wonwoo, his long leg not hidden by the sheet, his shoulder and collarbone peeking out, his beautiful hands, trying to never get his full face. He really needs to ask Wonwoo permission for a whole, private photoshoot.  

After planting a quick kiss on Wonwoo’s browbone, Mingyu forces himself to get up and goes in search of the bathroom, where he takes the quickest shower known to mankind, impatient to go back to Wonwoo.  

When he comes back into the bedroom, he finds Wonwoo awake and fiddling lazily with his smartphone, but his eyes are on him the very moment he steps foot inside, a towel wrapped around his hips and another in his hand.  

“Sorry, I used your shower,” Mingyu says, feeling a bit self-conscious with the way Wonwoo is silently staring, eyes roaming all over his body. Embarrassed, Mingyu starts scrubbing his hair with the towel, more to hide his face than anything, but when he finishes Wonwoo is still looking at him, this time frowning slightly.  

“It’s a real shame you didn’t choose to become a model, you know. Or an actor.”  

He says with such a serious face, and Mingyu feels his neck growing warmer.   

“Oh, stop it,” he mumbles.  

“No, I’m serious. You can make things like that,” he gestures at his hair and towel, “look natural yet hot at the same time. I could never do that.”  

Mingyu is left speechless, trying to understand whether Wonwoo is teasing him or actually complimenting him, when Wonwoo suddenly sits up with a jolt, staring wide eyed at his phone.  

“Oh,” Mingyu says, understanding what’s happening. “Sorry about that, too?”  

Wonwoo"s eyes are back on him, still wide but unreadable. For a terrible set of seconds, Mingyu thinks that that’s it, he finally managed to ruin everything.  

“I– I’ll delete it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”  

Wonwoo turns his attention back to the screen, staring at, Mingyu is sure, his Instagram dashboard. More precisely, he’s looking at one of the photos Mingyu took before taking his shower and, brain shutting off, decided to post on his private Instagram.   

It’s not a photo of Wonwoo’s face, of course, nothing that can connect back to him.  

It"s a photo of Mingyu holding Wonwoo’s hand in his own against the sheets, palm covering his and fingers slotted between Wonwoo’s.  

Looking at it was making Mingyu’s heart beat so fast, that he went crazy and posted it.  

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea.  

“I’m really sorry,” he repeats, starting to panic. “Please–”  

“You can tag me in it, you know.” Wonwoo cuts him off, gaze open as he lowers his phone. “If you want to.”  

And Mingyu– stands there, dumbly, opening and closing his mouth a few times as Wonwoo starts laughing at him. He sets the phone aside and pats the bed.  

“Come here, big boy.”  

Mingyu is onto him before Wonwoo has even finished talking, letting himself being hugged tightly as Wonwoo keeps chuckling, both afraid and ashamed for how relieved he feels knowing that Wonwoo isn’t mad at him.  

“You don’t want to?” Wonwoo murmurs into his hair, and Mingyu hastily shakes his head, pressing against the skin of Wonwoo’s neck with a whine. Soft lips press a kiss on Mingyu’s ear before Wonwoo makes his head turn to look into his eyes. There"s still an amused smile on his face, but his features are infused with so much fondness that Mingyu feels like crying.  

He likes him so much. God, he likes him so, so much.  

“I said I liked you, didn’t I?”  

Wonwoo’s voice is so low, so sweet, Mingy has to focus to answer.   

“Yes, but it could mean a lot of things.”  

Liking someone doesn’t automatically mean wanting to have a proper relationship with them. Even so, it doesn’t mean wanting to go public, even if just with close friends and family. Tagging someone in a picture like that equals to make a statement. And yes, Mingyu is somehow known in his line of work, but Wonwoo– he’s Jeon Wonwoo , globally famous. Mingyu doesn’t know which repercussions a news like this could have on his career.  

Wonwoo seems to understand his worries, and he also seems to not care much.  

“I know.” Wonwoo pulls back slightly to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “I’m okay with it.”  

Mingyu feels his lower lip tremble, his eyes watering as Wonwoo’s nose brushes his and he leans in slowly to kiss him. Mingyu melts into him, kisses him back and feels a smile against his lips, affection and care and tenderness swelling so big and so fast in Mingyu’s chest that he doesn’t know what to do, can only hug Wonwoo tighter, hoping to never let go.  

“Just be careful and tag my private account, okay?”  

Wonwoo says as he settles under the covers, freshly showered.  

Mingyu curls around him with a giggle, about to tell him that he has nothing to worry about, when a cold shiver runs through him as his big, fat thumb is about to press on the wrong account.  

Wonwoo looks at him weird, sensing something’s wrong, but Mingyu knows, by now, how to divert his attention.