Chapter Text
Mingi wakes up nearly smothered by the softest duvet of all time. He blinks slowly, warm and comfortable, and frees one arm for a leisurely stretch.
A sharp stab of pain shoots up from his lower back and his contented sigh morphs into a pained groan.
Fucking hell. Getting his back blown out by Yunho sounded better in his head than it is in reality. Or well, the day after at least.
One hand presses against his tender sacrum, while the other gropes the mattress behind him for his boyfriend, only to come up empty. With a wince, Mingi twists enough to look over his shoulder to find the enormous bed empty.
“What’s all this moaning about?”
Yunho steps out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips and his hair dark and wet from the shower. Mingi takes a moment to appreciate his physique. He’s always been lean as well as broad, but he’d beefed up a bit recently and Mingi is absolutely here for it.
That does not mean Yunho can get away with being a smartass.
“You had better be nice to me this morning,” he grouses. “This is your doing.”
Yunho grins in triumph, not a shred of regret on his pretty face. To be fair, Mingi was the one who woke up in the middle of the night hard as fuck and rutted against Yunho, gasping into his mouth, until they both came, which he’s sure didn’t help matters.
But still.
He wrestles a foot out of the plush duvet to lightly kick at Yunho’s thigh. He easily catches it and ignores his attempts to wriggle free. He yanks on it, making Mingi yip as he’s pulled down the mattress. Yunho’s long fingers caress his ankle and ghost over his heel, sending a little shiver through his leg.
“What’s this?” His boyfriend asks. His eyes take on a familiar glint at Mingi’s dancer flexibility that allows him to bring his foot all the way up to his face with ease. His sore muscles only protest the manhandling a little.
Yunho’s dark eyes inspect the sparkly purple polish on his toes that matches his mani. Yeosang had been thorough in his pre-party prep. Mingi’s eyelids still twitch thinking about the wax he’d endured.
“So pretty all over,” Yunho murmurs, lightly tracing those sinful fingers along his instep before bending down to drop a chaste kiss on the ball of his foot.
Mingi’s lips part on a gasp, momentarily forgetting he’s supposed to be miffed with his boyfriend. Oh, right. He knits his brows together and pulls his mouth back into a sulky line. His boyfriend takes the bait and relents.
“Ah, don’t look at me like that, princess,” he groans. He plants a knee on the bed to lean over Mingi’s pouting face, bending his leg around his waist. “How about I have someone come up to give you a massage and work out all of those kinks, hmm?”
Mingi will never quite get used to being treated like he’s someone special, someone to be taken care of. Spoiled. He bites his lip and lowers his eyes.
Yunho laughs, bright and joyful, and kisses his temple. Mingi blushes and scrambles for something to fight back with.
“Maybe not all the kinks,” he says, looking up through his lashes.
His breath catches when he sees Yunho’s face hovering over his, smiling so wide his cheeks are all bunched up. His heart does that thunderous thud again and he hopes somehow he is keeping a lid on the worst of the besotted heart eyes he can feel trying to escape. They’re slippery buggers and he’s not sure he succeeds.
“Lucky you I have to go, because I’d only be putting more kinks in with you looking all sleepy and cute,” Yunho says fondly.
Okay now Mingi is sure he looks like a lovesick fool. Distraction is the only way out. So, he narrows his eyes and scrunches up his nose in that way he knows Yunho can’t resist. On cue, his boyfriend bends down to peck his still pouty lips.
Mingi can’t help but huff a little. He thought they’d have time for a slow morning together, something they haven’t had much of so far. Yunho’s mouth twists in response.
“I know, I promise things will quiet down once Choi Senior leaves,” he says, brushing Mingi’s dark fringe out of his eyes.
“Can’t you stay for breakfast?”
Mingi hates the way it sounds so needy. He doesn’t want to be a bother, but he also just wants some actual time with his boyfriend, damnit. What’s the use of being a mafia crime lord if he can’t occasionally make people wait?
Yunho’s gaze travels across his face, taking his time to map his features. Just when Mingi is about to apologise and say it’s okay, of course he has to go, he brings up a finger to smooth out the little crease between his eyebrows
“I’ll call to have some food brought up,” he says softly.
When Mingi opens his mouth to make sure he hasn’t pressured Yunho too much, he leans over until their lips almost touch. “It’s in everyone’s best interest I leave here at least one croissant and two coffees in.”
Mingi grins wolfishly. “How about a croissant, two coffees and a blowjob?”
Yunho is most definitely very late, but Mingi likes to think he did whoever he’s meeting a service by ensuring he leaves in the best of moods. His boyfriend came so hard in his mouth he swears he heard his toes crack.
He couldn’t have gotten further than the lifts when Mingi’s phone lights up with a text.
[Baddie with the legs ♥️]
Masseuse should be coming up in 15
Enjoy, princess
[Princess]
You dork
Thank you 🩷
Enjoyment isn’t quite the right word for what Olga, a small Eastern European woman with deceptively large and strong hands, does to his body. Mingi swears he sees god when she makes him bend like a banana, head and feet against the left side of the table, waist curved towards the right and digs into his hip with her sharp little elbow.
The sound he produces can only be described as a squeal.
That said, he feels stretched and sore in a good way after, less stabby stab stab and more mellow ache from having blood circulating through abused muscles.
It’ll make standing for a few hours to entertain Seoul’s finest criminals at Eden tonight a bit more bearable. Thank fuck he’s not dancing. His body rolls would surely look like body flops at this stage.
Instead, he’ll be hanging off Yunho’s arm all night, like a show horse brought to a stud farm. Only he’s the one being bred. A sneaky tendril of shame morphs into delicious heat at the thought. Mingi loves being admired. Well. He loves being admired while no one can touch him, not unless he wants to be touched.
Huh, being with Yunho is a lot like dancing on stage at the Treasure. They haven’t talked about it explicitly, but Mingi hasn’t picked up any shifts at the main club since the incident. He does miss it, but being his handsome mafioso’s arm candy scratches much of that same exhibitionist streak that convinced Mingi to move from bartending to stripping in the first place. That said, he doesn’t want to give up dancing altogether.
Definitely something they should discuss. He suspects Yunho will have thoughts about this, but he won’t just roll over on this one.
To be fair, Hongjoong may not even want him on stage at this rate. He’s been slacking on his gym routine recently and he’s losing some of his trademark width. While he’s getting in plenty of cardio with Yunho, he’s lost some definition in the weeks after his attack. He’ll allow himself one more day of being lazy before he gets to work getting his pecs back.
A sharp stab of discomfort slices through him uninvited, but not unexpected, leaving him a little winded. He’ll have to figure out a new routine, since he’s moved out of his flat. Since he and Sannie have stopped speaking.
His gut clenches painfully again as some of their fight flashes back through his mind. He’s been keeping busy, focusing on his recovery and his new role in the organisation. But at night, when Yunho isn’t home or when he’s in Yeosang’s guest bedroom, he misses San so viscerally he has to bury his face in his pillow to muffle his sobs.
Sannie is almost the only family he has left and this is by far the longest they’ve gone without speaking properly to each other since they met. He is trying to give him time to process and come to terms with everything, he wants to be respectful and patient. But fuck, he also wants to go over to their flat and beg and cry for San to let him back in his life. Part of him wants to scream and rage at him for dropping him like a rock, even though he knows that’s not true, let alone fair.
He just wishes he’d know if they were going to be okay. It would be so much less painful to give his best friend, his brother from another mother, all the time he needs if Mingi were fully confident they’d get a happy ending.
It’s hard to imagine his life without Sannie. It’d be like living with a missing vertebra, totally possible but painful, unstable and wrong.
Fuck. He wants to reach out so badly, but he knows he shouldn’t. The nostalgia and fear and regret and anger sloshing around in his stomach coalesce into a thick goop that’s clogging up his arteries and airways. Here he is, sitting on the biggest bed, on the softest sheets wearing the plushest robe, being the most spoiled he’s ever been. And all he can do is stare at the wall while idly flipping his phone upside down and then right side up again.
Mingi pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. There is someone else he could reach out to, who could pull him out of this nostalgia and probably make him feel a bit better. Like he hasn’t entirely lost touch with the Mingi he was before strip shows and mafia galas.
His hand moves before his brain catches up, opening his texts. He’s a little embarrassed by how far down their thread is, he should really be a bit better about staying in touch. He gnaws his lip, thumbs hovering over his screen, before he fires off a quick do you have time for a chat?
It’s entirely possible he won’t hear back for a while. Life’s busy and he’s certainly not expecting to be a priority and he nearly chucks his phone halfway across the room in fright when it buzzes aggressively in his hand.
It slides off the bed and Mingi scrambles to pick it up. Emblazoned on the screen is Superior Choi.
He snorts. He’d forgotten she’d changed her contact on his phone. To be fair, she’s not wrong, even after all the different Chois he’s met recently.
“Ahhhh, the prodigal brother returns! You need something and you’ve suddenly remembered I exist, eh?”
Haneul doesn’t even let him get a hello in before she starts scolding him. He can’t help himself, he slides right back into being a teenager.
“Noona,” he whines. “It’s not like that, I promise.”
“Don’t you noona me,” she huffs. “You better brush up on your grovelling, boy.”
It’s said with such fondness Mingi smiles around the teeth that have bitten down on his bottom lip at her familiar voice. She’s like a blanket of calm comfort even when she’s telling him off. He takes a deep breath and it feels like his lungs can expand properly for the first time in a while.
“I’m sorry, my dearest, prettiest, most superior queen noona,” he says in his most pitiful squeaky schoolboy voice. “You’re right, I am not worthy.”
“Pffffft, Jesus, alright alright,” she chuckles. “Don’t give up your day job just yet.”
“I’ll write you a poem every day until you forgive me!” Mingi pitches his tone feverishly, clutching his chest in pure pathos.
“Please don’t,” she wheezes. “I’ve seen the haikus you wrote for poor Shin Iseul in ninth grade. No thank you.”
It’s his turn to chortle. Lord, Haneul has witnessed so many of his most embarrassing moments. But he’s sort of glad she was there to see it, to know that Song Mingi was once a hopelessly awkward teenage boy stumbling his way through life. He sucks in a deep breath as a wave of emotion washes over him.
Haneul’s sniggers peter out on the other end and she softens her voice. “How’s things, Mini?”
Mingi’s throat seizes up at the nickname. It’s so old it was actually true when she coined it, even though he towers over her now. His mouth twitches and he holds his breath, trying to get his spasming diaphragm under control.
This is a perfect opening to pour his heart out to his big sister. But he flinches, skittish like a fawn. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Haneul, she’s been his biggest supporter in his short life, but that’s also exactly why he’s afraid. He doesn’t want for her to think that her trust in him has been misplaced. He selfishly wants to stay her perfectly imperfect little brother for as long as possible.
“Oh same old, you know,” he forces himself to say. “I take my vitamins every day and pay my bills, the apocalypse is still nigh and all that.” He coughs and looks up at the hotel room’s ridiculously cavernous ceiling. “How about you, how’s Jini going?”
It’s a clumsy deflection even for Mingi, but he hopes Haneul will let it slide just for a moment longer. There’s a brief pause, but she lets him get away with it for now.
“She’s doing great! Really enjoys her new school.” He can hear the smile in her voice and it cheers him in turn. The warm feeling doesn’t last long though. “Jini misses her uncles, we should get you two down to visit soon.”
Mingi hums noncommittally, fidgeting with the belt on his robe.
“The TV is also a major hit, as is the new tablet and scooter,” Haneul adds. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, huh?”
“The new… what?”
Mingi feels like he missed part of the conversation. His brain rewinds what Haneul just said, but he has no idea what she means.
“Oh, um,” she says, suddenly uncertain. “About a week after you visited, some guy delivered a TV, tablet, scooter and a bunch of toys for Hyejin. I got a new macbook and phone too. I thought…” she trails off. “That wasn’t you?”
Understanding hits Mingi with the force of a semi truck. It must have been Yunho’s doing, that presumptuous, sly bastard. Anger at Yunho meddling in his family’s affairs without permission quickly loses out to the giddy delight at the fizzing in his stomach, though. He doesn’t love being kept in the dark, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the sweetness and care behind the gesture.
Fucking hell he has it bad.
“Sannie didn’t tell you?”
Mingi swallows thickly, unsure of where to start. Haneul allows the silence to stretch a bit.
“Mini,” she says gently. “What’s going on?”
He blinks rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes and steels himself. Deep down beneath the fear of disappointing Haneul, something worse lurks. She could make him choose. It scares him to death. Even so, she deserves to know what's happening with her brothers.
“San-ah and I…” he mortifyingly trips over a stuttering breath. “We, um, aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now,” he manages around a grimace.
“Okay,” she says softly. “Can you tell me what happened?”
The lack of judgement and reproach makes his bottom lip wobble. He draws a fortifying breath.
“I fucked up, noona, really bad.” It’s barely a whisper.
“I’m sure you did, Mini,” she says, like it’s par for the course. Maybe it is. “But I’m also sure our San is a stubborn idiot and probably said things he doesn’t know how to walk back from.”
It’s crazy how well she knows the both of them. He huffs out a choked sound, half sob half snort.
“Whatever happened, we’re family and we do not give up on each other,” she says, sounding unimpressed.
Mingi can almost see the determined face she’s no doubt making on the other end. While he’s grateful to get the benefit of the doubt, he feels an odd urge to defend San and his anger towards him.
“I lied to him, noona, for a long time,” he sighs. “He has every right to be angry. This isn’t one of those times you can lock us in the bathroom and make us hug it out.”
She’s quiet for a few beats, perhaps wondering what he could have done to cause such a deep rift. To her credit, she doesn’t pry.
“We all have secrets,” she says, picking her words carefully. “And I trust that you had good reasons not to tell him, even if you regret it now.”
Mingi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He doesn’t know what heroic deed in a previous life bagged him someone like Haneul in his corner.
“I’m not sure Sannie has any secrets worth telling,” he manages around the knot of emotion at the back of his throat.
Haneul chuckles, it sounds a little wet at the edges too. “Fair.”
Mingi makes up his mind. He played Russian roulette with San’s friendship and he’s not willing to risk the last remaining family he has left. He braces himself and starts talking about what’s been happening in Seoul over the past few months.
He tells her about Eden, that its clientele is less than savoury, but that it’s been a good gig. He talks about his new friends. Yunho. That he’s geondal and that they’re dating, though he’s vague about what exactly he does or which clan he belongs to. Mingi tells her Yunho had nothing to do with the thugs that came to her door, but he’s made sure she and Jini can’t be touched and also says the presents were more than likely his doing. He leaves out a few details, like his assault and violent uncle Nero, but he tells her as much as he safely can.
There’s a long silence at the other end when he’s all done. Mingi knows he’s just dumped a whole fleet’s worth of bombs on her and that she needs a minute process, but he gnaws his lip nervously regardless.
“Is he good to you?”
This was not among the many things he imagined she would say. He’s stunned, his mouth drops open and absolutely no sound comes out.
“Yunho, does he treat you right?”
“I– yes, he’s amazing,” Mingi stutters. “He makes me feel safe and happy and I…” he hesitates for a moment. “I love him,” he rasps.
Haneul draws in a sharp breath on a shaky little oh. For a few moments, the only sound through the phone is Mingi’s heavy breathing as he wipes away his tears and a suspicious sniffle on the other end.
“Well,” she says a little stuffily, clearing her throat. “Then he’s okay with me.”
Mingi nods even though she can’t see him. He doesn’t quite trust himself to speak without making a very embarrassing scene.
“But if he hurts you, I’ll kill him and make sure they never find his body,” she says firmly after another deep breath. “Don’t fucking mess with noona.”
Mingi laughs hoarsely. “If there’s anyone I know who could pull that off, it’s you. I’ll be sure to tell him.”
They end on a less loaded note, talking about Jini’s time at school and her new obsession with turtles and rainbows. After they hang up, Mingi feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest. His relationship with Sannie may still be fucked up, but having his noona’s support is putting a floor under the despair.
His face splits into a dopey, secretive smile. That fucker, he shouldn’t have gone behind Mingi’s back but… it’s sweet.
He opens his texts again.
[Princess]
Jini loves her new scooter
You sneaky asshole
He nearly jumps out of his skin again when his phone buzzes with another call only seconds later. Yunho often can’t check his messages or respond with more than a quick emoji for hours, so his heart rate skyrockets thinking about why his boyfriend may be calling him, each scenario darker than the last. He takes a breath to break the doom spiral.
This mafia wife business is going to take some getting used to, fucking hell.
“Hello boyfriend,” he says, irrationally shy. They haven’t actually talked on the phone much.
There’s the tell-tale low hum of a car on the other end as soon as the call connects. He hears Yunho’s rich chuckle and it immediately sets him at ease.
“Hello princess,” he rumbles back. “Missed you already.”
Mingi can hear the smile in his voice and wishes he could see his face. It’s not hard to visualise his boyfriend, relaxed in his car, elbow leaning on the window, weaving through the city.
“Hmmm, you think being cute is going to save you, huh?”
He flops into the bed and honest to God kicks his legs like he’s some teenage girl. He’s not even sorry.
“I meant to tell you about the gifts, but it slipped my mind with everything that happened,” Yunho says and he does sound genuinely contrite.
“That’s what they all say,” Mingi sighs dramatically.
“How can I make it up to you, darling?”
Yunho is really enjoying this new role of the indulgent mafia boyfriend. Mingi is still uncomfortable being showered with presents, but he can play along.
“I think that trip to the lingerie store is a good place to start.”
“Oh no,” Yunho deadpans. “Anything but that.”
Mingi laughs throatily. “I’m so mean, right?”
“The worst,” Yunho tuts, before sobering up a bit. “I also wanted to tell you that it wasn’t us. We don’t terrorise women and children.”
His voice hardens in disgust. He’d said as much a few weeks ago, but it’s still a relief to hear it confirmed.
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for everyone in the family,” he continues.
Ah. They’re talking on an encrypted line, but Yunho is clearly still being cautious. Mingi hums as he puts it together. Sounds like Daehyun owes Nero money.
“He is working off his debt, but not very successfully from what I hear.”
So he must be dealing or smuggling drugs. Yeosang told him how Hongjoong narrowly escaped the same fate by starting up Eden with Jongho. Mingi’s lip curls up in disgust. Nero is a nasty piece of work. Not that he has much sympathy for Haneul’s ex, but he’s sure the “Emperor” is encouraging Daehyun to keep gambling so he’ll never get out from under him.
“The girls are safe?
He’s sure Yunho has it on lockdown, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it again.
“Untouchable.” It sounds protective and fierce.
“Thank you,” Mingi says.
“Anything for family,” Yunho responds with no hesitation.
His heart thuds and his tongue suddenly feels a few sizes too big for his mouth. Yunho has to stop doing stuff like this or he’s going to do something stupid like confess his love over the phone while his boyfriend is driving. He bites his tongue hard enough to sting.
“Will you be back before the party at Eden?”
Mingi already knows the answer, but he needs to focus on something other than word vomiting all his feelings.
“I’m sorry princess, I have a few idiots to corral and some errands to run,” Yunho sighs. “I’ll have to meet you there.”
It’s what he suspected. Mingi eyes the strappy leather and lace outfit he has picked out for tonight, hanging up on the wardrobe and thinks maybe it’s not the worst thing Yunho isn’t around when he puts it on. They might never make it out the door otherwise.
“I understand, jagi, I’ll see you tonight,” he husks. “Be safe.”
“Mingi, I–”
Yunho cuts himself off. Mingi lets the silence stretch for a few beats.
“Yes?”
“I’ll have Jeonghun come pick you up in an hour to take you home.”
He gets the impression that’s not what Yunho meant to say, but he‘s too busy tamping down the swarm butterflies in his chest at the word “home.”
“Perfect.”
Mingi needs to get a move on if he wants to try all the jets in the obscenely large bathtub before his ride arrives.
***
“Babe, have you seen my blazer?”
San spits a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.
“Which one?”
It sounds a bit garbled while he simultaneously tries to rinse his mouth. Wooyoung has been running around like a headless chicken all day, trying to put together the right fit for the party at Eden tonight. San is also nervous, but that has more to do with being in the same room as some of the country’s most powerful criminals than with anxiety about matching his belt with his shoes.
“Eh?”
His boyfriend sticks his head into the bathroom. San startles and nearly screams when he sees a fucking ghost. Wooyoung’s hair is pulled back by a black headband with little cat ears and his face is covered by a sheet mask.
Wooyoung glares, but the effect is rather ruined by his getup.
“I’m still the prettiest man you know,” he says in a warning tone.
San raises an eyebrow. “Okay, Mrs Doubtfire.”
Wooyoung’s vulpine eyes narrow, but his mouth twitches, so San cracks a broad smile of his own. He picks up his tweezers to clean up his eyebrows.
“And I asked which one, before you nearly scared me to death.”
“You know,” Wooyoung says, rummaging through San’s toiletries like a magpie looking for treasure. “The black one.”
San side-eyes his boyfriend through the mirror. All of his clothes are dark. No wonder he’s struggling to find a particular blazer in the black hole that’s his closet.
“You know the one that makes my shoulders buff and my waist snatched?”
Wooyoung’s body is insane. He could wear a bin bag and still belong in the fucking Louvre. Not that San’s been, mind, but the Mona Lisa has nothing on Jung Wooyoung in his opinion.
“That doesn’t really narrow it down either, babe,” San says.
He sticks his tongue out through his teeth cheekily and San’s knees go a little weak. Even after a couple of months of dating and being around Wooyoung pretty constantly, he is nowhere near immune to his beauty, or his antics. He suspects he could take another hundred years and he’d never not be whipped.
San puts the tweezers down and turns around, leaning against the sink. Wooyoung has moved on to digging for treasure in his limited selection of makeup. If Wooyoung is craving some attention, he is only too willing to give it to him.
“The silky one you like so much,” he says nonchalantly. But San knows better.
He hums low in his throat and takes a step closer. “The one with the matching waistcoat?”
Wooyoung’s eyes flick up to catch his lidded gaze. “Yeah.”
Another step. “And nothing underneath?”
San is up in his space in the small bathroom, crowding him back against the door. He looks ridiculous with the mask and the ears and San wants to eat him whole.
“Yeah,” Wooyoung murmurs breathily, chewing his bottom lip.
San carefully peels the sheet mask away and drops it in the sink behind him. He traces his fingers along his boyfriend’s damp skin, gently rubbing in the residual serum. Wooyoung sighs softly and closes his eyes, while resting his hands on San’s hips.
He takes a moment to admire the other man’s face, relaxed and smooth. He’s so fucking lucky.
It’s not that being with Wooyoung is easy, exactly. They squabble and fight a lot because he’s very opinionated and San is very stubborn. But it’s so very worthwhile. He’s never felt more valued and heard by a partner. It’s magic how Wooyoung doesn’t let San get away with any bullshit, but at the same time, makes him feel secure and never stupid.
In return, he does what he can to make sure things don’t get too loud inside his head. He has a lot of experience dealing with neurotic tendencies, courtesy of growing up with Mingi. The thought of his best friend and the state of their relationship makes his gut clench.
He knows he has to face up to it, both his own anger and Mingi’s betrayal, but it’s such a daunting task. San has no idea where to even start.
Wooyoung opens his eyes and catches the turmoil on his face. San’s never been good at hiding his feelings.
“Baby,” he murmurs, caressing his jaw.
San leans into the soothing touch. He’s been going in circles thinking about Mingi. Right now, he just wants some comfort and a distraction from the feeling that he’s the asshole here that’s permanently lodged in his chest these days.
Wooyoung tilts his chin up for a sweet kiss. San is only too happy to oblige. True to form, it doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen into something a little spicier.
San groans and presses Wooyoung back against the door, one of his hands splayed possessively on the small of his back while the other slides the headband off so he can comb his fingers through his long hair. Wooyoung recently bleached the edges of his hair a honey blonde and the light strands frame his face so prettily.
They make out lazily for a few minutes. San doesn’t have the widest breadth of experience, Namhae is a small place and he doesn’t have Mingi’s easy charm. But he’s a fast and eager learner and he has an amazing teacher in Wooyoung. He kisses like it’s the destination in itself, like he’s on a journey and he wants to explore every nook and cranny, both familiar and new. San often loses track of time when they snog, shocked to find a whole hour has passed when he next opens his eyes.
This time, Wooyoung does seem to have an endgame in mind. His boyfriend winds his arms around San’s neck. Once he has a steady grip, he hitches one leg up and then the other, as San grips the bottom of his thighs to hold him up.
It slots their crotches together and San’s breath stutters. He breaks the kiss to gasp for air and nearly loses his balance in the face of Wooyoung’s heated, half-lidded gaze.
Fuck. They don’t have time to fool around really. Wooyoung leans forward to trace the hot tip of his tongue up the bulging vein in San’s neck to nibble on his earlobe.
He slams a hand against the door to hold the both of them up as fire shoots up along his spine.
Yeah okay so maybe they can fit in a quickie. San is still a little loose from when Wooyoung made him come on his fingers in the shower that morning. There’s lube in the cabinet and if they can cut short prep then…
San’s horny thought spiral is rudely interrupted by the doorbell.
Wooyoung drops his head back against the door with a sigh before disentangling his legs.
“Just leave it,” San groans desperately, grinding his half-hard dick forward.
“Sannie, what if it’s your landlord?”
Fuck his life, honestly. They’re rarely at San’s flat because it’s much smaller and not as nice, but it’s closer to work. Of course, this one time, someone has to come and ruin the mood. He steps back with a mumbled curse and readjust his jeans to hide the worst of his semi, before marching down the hallway. The flat’s intercom probably died at least a decade ago, so he has no clue who's cockblocking him.
Whoever the fuck is at the door better already be dying or they will be soon.
San swings the door open, fully expecting a Jehova’s witness or door-to-door salesman to chew out. Instead, all the oxygen in his lungs burns up in an instant.
Because he’s faced with a very handsome, very tall stranger clad head-to-toe in black Versace. They’ve never met, but he knows exactly who this is.
“Yunho,” he breathes.
“Hello San.”