Archive of Our Own ^beta

If there’s one thing Mingi knew about Yunho, it’s that the guy went into everything with all or nothing. So maybe he should’ve expected it.

‘Oh fuck you.’

And sue him, Mingi was already half a bottle of wine in and couldn’t really blame his inside voice becoming one with his outside voice. They were all about twenty minutes from leaving to the party anyways.

Wooyoung shakes his head next to him, just as displeased, ‘No literally Yun, fuck you.’

Mingi swigs another sip straight from the bottle. He probably should’ve eaten more of the tteobokki when San had asked him to, but it was too late for that now. He’s a little woozy but honestly, the alcohol was causing the least of the feeling.

‘I think what they’re trying to say is that you look good Yunho. Too good, even.’

Ah Seonghwa, ever the gentleman. Mingi doesn’t catch Yunho’s reaction, but he can picture the bashful smile he must be throwing at Seonghwa right now – head tilted into his neck and limbs awkwardly dangled. Modest motherfucker.

‘Thank you hyung.’

And Mingi’s right, he could hear that smile in the words.

Mingi’s angry about it. He is. Because he had his eyes on Yunho for half a second maybe, right as he entered their living room from his bedroom, and he looked like a fucking wet dream. And he knows, he knows how fucking hot his best friend is. He’d grown up with it for God’s sake. He’d witnessed the lanky frame develop into broad shoulders and toned muscle through the tunnels of their puberty and adulthood. They’d grown into everything together, and still did, so Mingi knew.

But fuck if it wasn’t still a slap in the face when Yunho dressed like this.

And now he was mad at Yeonjun, because who the hell threw costume parties in the middle of May anyway? And then he’s mad at himself, because why the hell did he even agree to-

‘Have a bite.’

Yunho’s looking down at him. Mingi knows some version of his doom spiral is being practically bannered across his own face right now. And if nothing else, Yunho was his best spectator. The angle is downright sinful, and Mingi’s completely distracted.

‘What?’

Yunho half-laughs, walking from the side of the couch to perch himself atop the shitty coffee table they’d walked twenty minutes to pick up from a Facebook Marketplace listing.

He’s got a bowl of steaming ramyeon in front of him, chopsticks already holding some of it out to Mingi.

‘You’ve got your hangry face on and you never eat enough before you drink.’ He says as matter of fact, well on his way to feeding Mingi before he even registers it.

And he does, feed Mingi that is. Because of course he does. Mingi can tell he’s only emptied half the flavouring sachet into the noodles and added a bit of cold water at the end so that he won’t complain. It’s the perfect temperature and level of spice. The ramyeon was never meant for Yunho. Mingi hates him for it.

Yunho takes a few bites here and there but makes sure that he eats most of it, Wooyoung leaves his side after stealing a couple of mouths too, muttering something Mingi’s too distracted to piece together. And all in all, Mingi feels substantially better because of the food, and he hates Yunho for that too.

Because not only was Yunho gorgeous, he was kind. Like he always was. Like he always had been. And most days, Mingi was good at dealing with it all. He was good at compartmentalising the enormity of emotion he felt for Yunho, playing the best friend, fuck buddy and roommate all the same. Most of the time, he even managed some coherence every time he was in a room with him. But fuck, tonight he was tipsy enough for the familiar, bearable whimsy of yearning to feel more like the cracks in his heart fracturing under pressure, and he’s tired of it.

Yunho doesn’t even flinch. He sits opposite Mingi with his stupid, beautiful face drawn into a concerned pout while his hair’s resting on his eyebrows. He’s in a crisp white shirt adorned with a black vest and matching pinstripe pants. There’s a thin black tie tucked into the vest and necklaces neatly embellishing the entire outfit. Mingi feels almost sick perceiving how good he looks. And the worst part of it all was that his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, a few bracelets adorning those gorgeous, gorgeous hands that would serve so well around Mingi’s throat. Good God, Mingi needed to get a grip.

As if that weren’t enough, Mingi’s vision clears a little because of the food settling some of the alcohol, and his eye catches on Yunho’s collar again. Then his brain fully short-circuits.

‘Are those-’ Mingi couldn’t fucking believe his eyes, he takes a deep breath, ‘Are those rosaries?’

‘I’m catholic.’ Yunho says with ease, eyes dripping with mirth. There’s something there, challenge or even daunt in Yunho’s gaze, but Mingi’s trying his hardest not to pop a boner in front of all their friends and ruin the good vibe they’ve got going, so he just groans quiet enough for only Yunho to hear.

Mingi wants to put his head through the ringer. ‘You’re an asshole.’

Yunho shrugs, tongue in cheek, as if he’s considering something (it’s so hot Mingi kind of wants to cry). Then he smirks, radiant and so utterly Yunho, ‘Yeah, maybe.’

If he’d known that this was the Yunho he’d get once their friend group decided on a collective heaven and hell spin on the ‘good and bad’ theme set for the party, he would have vehemently disagreed to do it. It was almost maddening, because Mingi hadn’t even put that much effort into his own appearance, just grabbing a black t-shirt and some fitted jeans tucked into his combat boots to match. He’d managed to dress it up and fit into theme just barely, pairing the under-layer with a black long coat that was light enough for spring and some of his normal jewellery tacked on to it, a pretty duo of necklaces where one had an ornate pendant of a cross. He hadn’t even done anything special with his make-up, choosing to leave his freshly washed hair down and tack on some lip-gloss that’s a shade or two darker than the colour of his lips. It was a college party for Christ’s sake, not a fucking runway.

Before Mingi can chastise himself too much for his sexual frustration landing him the voice of a conservative elder, Hongjoong comes around and shoves a shot onto both Yunho’s and Mingi’s hands. Too late for the commentary now, he thinks, they were getting drunk and they were going to this party and Mingi just had to suck it up.

‘Drink up motherfuckers,’ Hongjoong says, already considerably inebriated, ‘Cheers.’

Seonghwa catches him from stumbling into the kitchen counter and smiles down at him fondly, his fake angel wings fluttering as he fixes Hongjoong’s horned headband that had come loose from the whole ordeal. Mingi’s heart hurts a little at the sight. There his hyungs were, dressed as an angel and a demon, perfectly compatible. The were the picture of long resolved pining and whole-hearted devotion.

Mingi feels the warmth of Yunho at his side as he resituates himself next to Mingi on the couch. He wonders what everyone sees when they look at his best friend and him.

They were unconventional, and really, he supposes they always had been. If not their current situation, where they were titled best friend and arguably the most important person in each other’s lives while also fucking without anyone else knowing, they’d always been maybe a little bit too close. The memory of his mother taking him aside and asking him if Yunho’s introduction to her was how he was choosing to come out flits to the forefront of Mingi’s clearing mind. He remembers choking on the ill-timed bite of his melona more than his mother’s exact words, but the jist of panic that had spread throughout his entire body should have perhaps been evidence enough. Mingi hadn’t even really thought twice about his sexuality back then, just eager to introduce the most important person in his life to a friend he had a gut feeling would bargain for the same territory. And he’d ended up entirely correct.

It'd been six months since he’d had more than a bottle of soju over the course of an entire night, and Mingi’s current state reminds him why. Everything about Yunho, especially when he was tiptoeing drunk, became so incredibly overwhelming. Then, like bee to honey, he was over-thinking everything.

And on second thought, maybe Mingi was the most under-dressed. Yeosang and Wooyoung had Seonghwa’s accessories to match and make their trio of angels, and San, Hongjoong and Jongho were all dressed in dress shirts and pants like Yunho, makeup also done. He doesn’t really feel out of place, and he knows they all look good, him included, but the ethereal Yunho manages to embody somehow carves into him as a constant pinprick in his stomach, worsening the longer Mingi spent at this level of tipsy. So he does the obvious thing, mindlessly saluting to the room and downing the shot without waiting for Yunho.

Then, just like he expects, there’s a side-ways glance that Yunho throws at him before doing much the same. Mingi pointedly ignores it. Because he can’t seem to ignore anything else about Yunho at all.

And Yunho, sweet, beautiful, resilient Yunho, boops his nose and silo’s Mingi’s attention. Like he usually does, like he’s always done.

‘We’ve finished our exams Mingi-yah, we’re going home soon. This is a celebration of another year well spent, we deserve to enjoy it yeah?’

Mingi wants to cry. Yunho made Mingi’s problems, real or assumed, his own too. That’s been another pillar of their friendship that had been quick to set in stone, cementing itself in all the vehement defences Yunho had put up for him over the years, from mean kids calling him slurs in school to the shit his own mind managed to torment him with. Yunho was always there.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t have to be worried Mingi-yah,’ Yunho sobers, smile softening, assuring Mingi in a way that stops his fight or flight from triggering, ‘You’re doing good, just give your head a break.’

Mingi wishes he could, really.

About Yunho, about their final year coming up, about the job he has yet to find, about them entering the real world and Yunho actually starting to seriously date. God, the alcohol hadn’t been a good decision at all.

Mingi just wonders what life would be like if he weren’t the type of guy who felt the vastness of his anxiety every time he perceived how fucking hot his best friend was, how said best friend knew Mingi sometimes better than he knew himself. It must be peaceful, he thinks, maybe. Mingi would never know.

‘I’ll try.’ Mingi says.

Yunho seems satisfied, ‘You always do.’

Mingi wants to kiss him. Their friendship and all their friends in the room be damned. He wants to kiss him with all the fucking devotion his heart was growing tired of holding onto.

He breathes.

//

The party’s a rager, to say the least.

They uber there and Mingi passes out leant against the window, some radio ballad lulling him into one of the best tipsy naps of his life. He wakes up disoriented and ushered out of the car by Yeosang, a spring breeze hitting him once they’re outside.

It isn’t too late, dusk barely overtaking the sky with an overcoming hue of blues and purples. The lamp posts outside the house are dim and unassuming, and all their attention focuses on the blaring music coming from the inside. Mingi pops in his ear plugs and heads in, a bit bleary from sleep.

And that’s all really to justify why it takes him almost an hour or so to realise that he’d not really seen Yunho in his full outfit. Mingi had been been entertaining himself by meeting some of his other classmates and sipping on a spiked, fruity concoction of some sort when it really catches his attention. He dances and sings and plays a round or two of beer-pong (re: wins), which Hongjoong and him have always made an inseparable team for. But then he’s walking into a room that Yunho’s at the opposite side of, and something glints at Mingi against the strobe lights, specifically from the hand Yunho’s holding a pint with.

Mingi doesn’t think he’s seen it properly at first. Then he looks again, trains his eyes.

Were those claws?

Oh my god, they were claws.

And then it’s as if he’s a man possessed, he walks to Yunho as if nothing has provided him with more purpose. So much so, that he doesn’t even realise Yunho’s in a conversation with somebody until he’s halfway through his sentence.

‘Are those fucking-’

Mingi’s brain catches up to him. The somebody opposite Yunho is a girl – a small, beautiful girl at that. Her hair is in ornate buns, ears adorned with a fuck ton of cool piercings Mingi could only dream of being able to pull off. She looks at him kindly, an amused glint in her eyes. She seems nice, and something sours in the base of Mingi’s throat at the thought.

‘Are those what?’ Yunho says, attention now fully on Mingi.

He feels both pathetic and asshole-ish in one fell swoop. Worse than that, Mingi’s one awkward fucker, so his instinct guides him to just mumble an apology and leave again, too stunned at having missed the obvious signs of his best friend enjoying somebody else’s company. There’s the ugly part of Mingi that wonders whether she’s the one that Yunho dressed up for, because as much as they were the closest of friends about everything else, neither of them had ever been any good at talking about crushes with each other. Everything about that makes him sick.

He high-tails out of there and into the first room he can find, no concern for optics. And he’s glad, because it’s somebody’s bedroom and the blaring music muffles almost immediately, giving Mingi a reprieve from the ringing outside his ears. Not even a minute in, the door’s opening again and Yunho’s inside the room with him.

And honestly, Mingi just needed a second.

‘Mingi-yah, you okay?’

Maybe it’s that Mingi was tipsy again or that the anxiousness thrumming at his skin was simmering now, he’s snippy when he responds, ‘You’re not my keeper Yunho. I’m fine.’

Mingi internally chides himself for the tone almost immediately after he finishes talking. Yunho just looks at him, worry overcome by annoyance.

‘I wouldn’t have to be if you didn’t interrupt my conversations as if you were going to drop dead. I don’t think that’s anyone’s definition of fine.’

Okay, maybe Mingi deserved that.

It’s true, he supposes, because Mingi feels many things, least of all fine. He could feel the worry of everything and nothing prickle inside him, and a large part of him was so overtly horny in a way that probably wasn’t normal for a guy who was getting fucked six ways from Sunday whenever he needed it. It was too many things and no single thing all the same. God, Mingi wanted to start this entire night over.

He watches Yunho heave a sigh, and almost instinctually, he does the same.

‘I’m sorry for speaking to you like that, I feel a lot better now that I’m in here. You can go back to your conversation Yun, she looked interested, and I don’t want to keep you.’

Yunho looks at Mingi as if he’s grown a second head.

‘What? Who- Yeji? Mingi, she has a girlfriend.’

Oh.

Oh.

The entire energy of the room shifts. Mingi refuses to feel stupid, petulant in the angst spiral ridden scenario that his mind had conjured for him.

‘Well could you blame me? Y’all were staring each other up as if y’all dressed to impress, it takes less than an idiot to put two and two together.’

Yunho stares in disbelief, some of the humour flooding back onto his face, ‘We were talking about our computer science final,’ he says as matter of fact, ‘so no Mingi, you didn’t put anything together, and you are definitely some semblance of an idiot.’

Mingi does still have the gall to be offended even if he’d read all of this wrong. He feels his chest deflate like a balloon all the same.

‘Yunho-’

‘You’re so fucking stupid y’know that?’

‘Hey that’s not very ni-’

‘I wore it for you asshat,’ Yunho says, maybe as snippy as Mingi had been just a few moments ago; it does effectively shut Mingi up. ‘It’s always meant for you.’

That second part comes out quieter than what he’d started with, but Mingi has no time to focus on it because Yunho’s still steamrolling through to the next thing he’s annoyed at Mingi for. ‘And all you told me about it was to go fuck myself.’

Mingi’s gaping, he knows he’s gaping. There’s too much for him to process. His brain is blanking so he says the first thing that unscrambles, ‘As opposed to what Yunho? Would you want me to do it?’

‘Yes.’

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Mingi feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears, and he’s gaping again. Great, his best friend just implied that he wants Mingi’s dick and Mingi was attempting his best impression of an open-mouthed goldfish.

‘What?’

‘Mingi- God- you look like you’ve walked out of a fucking magazine with your stupid rings and your matching blacks and- have you even looked at yourself?’ Yunho’s almost heaving, ‘So yeah, fuck- you idiot, yes, of course I want you to fuck me.’

Mingi was going to die. ‘We’ve never done that.’

‘I know.’

‘You’ve never done that.’

Yunho just sighs, ‘I know.’

Mingi’s mind was swirling. Time slows down and Mingi does have honest trouble conceptualising what Yunho was getting at. Yunho chews at his lips meanwhile, hair a mess from how many times he’d run his hands through it the last few minutes, claws and all. Mingi has so much to say but his mouth falters, again.

‘You’re nervous. Oh my go- Yunho-’

And for the first time, Yunho’s steadfastness flickers. ‘Do you not want to?’

Mingi feels like he’s been struck in the heart.

‘Jesus Yunho, no- of course I want to- I just- let me fucking take a second and process the last twenty seconds yeah?’

Mingi does just that. He takes a genuine moment to root his mind back into his body. Because Yunho wanted Mingi to fuck him. Crazily, he wanted Mingi to be the first man who ever did.

Yunho just looks at him more impatient than subtle. And really, he doesn’t even give Mingi a second breath before he utters a ‘time’s up’ and traverses the distance between them in a step and a half. Then his lips are on Mingi’s and he’s drowning in the best way possible.

The remnants of Yunho’s mint chapstick and the beer he was nursing etches into Mingi’s mouth, comforting and dizzy and so, so serenely Yunho. And he’s mesmerizingly insistent, splaying his arm all the way around Mingi’s waist just because he can, leaning Mingi into the wall. His other hand finds a home in the nape of Mingi’s neck, and before Mingi can even wonder, the metal claws scratch into his hair enticingly. The moan Mingi utters can only be described as wanton, and the contact feels so good he almost forgets where they are.

Yunho hooks a leg in between Mingi’s thighs and the fact that Yunho is hard because of him shocks him every time it happens, even if Mingi’s never faring better himself. His own hands halo ‘round his neck and Yunho doesn’t waste any time, biting into his lip and swiping his tongue into Mingi’s mouth. It’s heady in a way that’s familiar and even more enthralling because of the fact. Yunho’s always kissed Mingi with an assured reverence, and it’s so easy for Mingi to get lost in it. Time after time after time.

He's close to relenting to Yunho’s pace when his brain reminds him what got him into all this in the first place. And even though his dick was debating him, he licks into Yunho’s mouth with a bit more fervour, slowing them down considerably once he’s gained a bit more control. He pulls away from Yunho’s lips eventually, and every time Mingi got to open his eyes and have Yunho this close, he takes his time to savour it. Yunho’s eyes flutter open, a second after his own, and Mingi gets to witness his kiss swollen lips, flushed cheeks and blown pupils barely a breadth away from him. Mingi pecks him once, then again for good measure.

Yunho looks confused once he’s regained some of his bearings, ‘Why’d you stop?’

‘You look so, so fucking good tonight Yun,’ Mingi wants to say beautiful so badly, but he bites his tongue to preserve some of his bleeding heart, ‘I mean it.’

Yunho looks a bit stunned, as if he weren’t ever expecting such an admission. Mingi thinks that’s dumb, because God was he so far gone for his best friend.

‘You’re the only person I was looking at.’ And again, Mingi wants to tell him that Yunho’s the only person he ever looks at. He powers through the urge, ties his tongue again.

Yunho flushes a deeper shade of coral, and there’s a moment of unbridled fondness before its shoved under the exasperation Mingi was always at the end of, ‘God- Mingi- just-’

Yunho kisses him again, and this time it’s not hard to tell that there’s gratitude peppered in it. Yunho’s mouth moves to prove everything he can’t say, sucking on Mingi’s bottom lip and nosing down his jaw in tiny thank you’s. Mingi loved Yunho at his neck, little nips and sucks that always maintained him keening, entrenching Yunho into Mingi’s skin over and over. And it’s almost cute, how maybe Mingi’s words settle into Yunho a bit late, because he starts smiling into his kisses, gripping at Mingi’s waist a bit more insistently. Yunho smiling always made Mingi smile, and then he can’t take anything from the last two hours seriously.

‘You’re such a softie Yun,’ he utters, a bit breathless.

‘It’s apparently only when it’s to do with you.’

Yunho’s still hiding his face, a softer kiss placed on the side of his neck, but the words singe into Mingi, something undecipherable in them.

Mingi then gains some urgency, because the weight of everything Yunho wanted to give him settles into his stomach with an unerring flame. He stops Yunho with both his hands cradling Yunho’s neck, jaw caressed between his thumbs so that Yunho’s looking right at him, no distractions. Yunho leans into the touch, eyes closing.

‘I’m gonna get you off and then we’re leaving, okay?’

‘Hmm?’

God, Yunho was the dumbest smart person he knew.

‘Yun did you really think I was gonna fuck you for the first time in somebody else’s bedroom in the middle of a college frat party?’

‘Yeonjun’s not a frat boy.’ Yunho says as matter of fact, and again, the blush runs from the apple of his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

‘Yunho-’

‘Okay, okay. Get me off and then we’ll leave.’

Mingi doesn’t ever know what to do with the pendulum of Yunho that swings between absolute menace and shy loser, all of which Mingi’s so utterly, pathetically in love with.

He kisses Yunho this time, changing them around so that Yunho’s flush against the wall, hands grasping at his hips and chest. They’re so practiced at this now that Mingi doesn’t even need his eyes to unbuckle Yunho’s belt and draw the pants’ zipper free. His brain is too lost in the sensation of Yunho bucking into where his hands are, and it all feels so fucking good. They didn’t need to hurry but there’s this thrum of anticipation in the air, stronger than there usually was if that’s possible.

Mingi languishes in the proportions of Yunho’s waist and legs that ran on for days. It’s almost tragic, how he would become a compliant bootlicker if it meant that he was licking Yunho’s, in all literal and metaphorical sense. The little sounds Yunho was making lands straight to his dick, and again, it’s a holy thing for Yunho to be this responsive to just him. In all seriousness, he’s halfway torn between wanting to rip through every layer of Yunho’s clothing or ruining what he has on with both their cum, both equally enticing options to Mingi’s currently pea-sized brain.

The cognitive function kicks in and he knows that they would eventually have to leave this house, and neither of them were particular familiar enough with the room to actually look for things like tissue or towels. And fuck it, he was too pent up for that shit anyway.

So, he decides on dropping to his knees with a lack of any grace or fanfare, and the groan Yunho utters is music to Mingi’s ears. Getting his hands on Yunho’s dick was always a pleasure, but today Mingi was wearing his favourite assortment of rings, one on almost every finger. The thrum of excitement to see them against Yunho was already leaving him painfully hard. And Yunho, that freak, loved the feel of cold rings contrasted against Mingi’s warm hands all over his dick. Mingi doesn’t even have to look up to know, because Mingi hasn’t even really touched him yet and Yunho’s hips are already angled away from the wall and into Mingi’s face.

‘You’re so eager Yun,’ Mingi says, hands on the belt loops of his pants, palms flat against Yunho’s upper thighs, ‘so fucking sensitive for me.’

Yunho hums irritably, long and peevish, ‘Would you please just use that damn mouth already.’

Mingi tsks. He loved it when the mess Yunho was for him really settled into his confidence, ‘I am using my mouth, Yun.’

He waits until Yunho’s about to make a smart-ass comment to set his cock free from his briefs. The contact shuts him up into a strangled groan like Mingi expects, and he just can’t waste a moment to get Yunho back, ‘And it seems like my hands have the same effect no?’

Mingi’s feeling up his cock as he fucks with Yunho, and the sensation of it must distract Yunho enough because his retort is a beat too late.

‘You’re an asshole.’ He pants from above Mingi.

‘An asshole who’s at close enough range to bite your dick off mind you.’

And it’s fun. It’s everything Mingi has wanted all night, and the sense of calm that Yunho provides for him in whatever circumstance comforts Mingi in a way nothing else can. Because Yunho has never treated Mingi like glass, and no matter what side of the bed Mingi woke up in the morning, Yunho would always be there – understanding, communicating, protecting.

Mingi loved him. Like he always had, like he always would.

‘If you decide to bite my dick you best believe I’m returning the favour,’ Yunho says, looking down at him with his eyes already glazed over, ‘I swear Mingi if you don’t get me off I’m leaving this room to find someone who can.’

Mingi just chuckles. ‘You’re a shit liar.’

‘I’m so fucking serious Mingi-’

Mingi loved to push him, ‘Would you beg for me?’

Yunho stills. One of Mingi’s hands is still on his aching dick, and the other draws little circles into the trouser-clad skin of Yunho’s thighs.

Yunho’s eyes are blown wide and his lips are in a spit-slicked pout, redder than they would be because he’s been biting his lips in restraint. Yunho’s so fucking beautiful.

Mingi watches for the moment where Yunho relents. Because deep down, some part of Mingi knew that he was just as desperate for Mingi as Mingi was for him. And Yunho does, he does.

‘Mingi please, please fuck- I need this, need you. Please.’

There’s no pride lost or dignity deteriorated in the words even if Yunho’s breath stutters and hands tremble with want, because this pleading was just for Mingi and came at no real cost – it was a display of sacred piety just as much as it was foreplay. Mingi smiles up at him, glad to be put to work.

He has no lube so he settles for the next best thing, allowing the saliva that was already pooling at the base of his mouth to gather. He spits right onto Yunho’s slit and gets to watch it mix with Yunho’s pre-cum, something that Mingi was losing resolve not to put his mouth on.

Mingi uses it all to ease the glide and stroke him a couple of times. Yunho’s hips jerk and he lets out a guttural sound that gets Mingi’s face warm.

‘Fuck-fuck you that’s so hot.’

Yunho sounds like a man who’s run a couple miles a bit too fast. Mingi fucking loves it, being able to hear the effect that he had on him. Yunho’s head hits the wall again, as if he’s just waiting for Mingi to get him off. He chuckles, tapping on Yunho’s thighs to get his attention. It takes Yunho a second, but he gets there. Eventually.

‘If you want my mouth so bad you’re gonna have to look at me while you fuck it, okay pretty boy?’

Yunho looks down at Mingi like a man starved, managing an abrupt nod.

And then Mingi does what he’s been waiting to do all night. He licks all the way up to Yunho’s tip and sucks a little shallowly, looking up at Yunho’s eyes as best he can. Mingi feels the indrawn breath Yunho heaves, and still, Yunho’s as faithful as ever, focused on on Mingi as he gets what he’s asked for.

It’s entirely enthralling, getting to feel the weight of Yunho on his tongue while the weight of his gaze is just as heavy. He knows he’s good at this bit so he lets himself enjoy the rhythm he builds for them both, a mix of his mouth taking Yunho just past his lips and all the way back, closer to his throat. Mingi barres Yunho from moving his hips into his mouth for now, hands firms against his hips. Yunho just revels in all of it, hands carding through Mingi’s hair in haste.

Yunho’s a constant mess of affirmations; begging, assuring, encouraging and pleading, everything that feeds right into Mingi’s fairly stable ego but entirely fragile heart. And through it all, he’s also completely compliant to Mingi’s initial demand, keeping his eyes downcast toward him, no matter the difficulty.

‘Oh fuck-fuck princess, feels so good.’

And it’s something about Yunho using the only nickname that has preceded the sex they’d been having, paired with how absolutely wrecked Yunho sounds from above him that causes Mingi to moan into his movements, his soft palette tightening around Yunho’s dick.

That sets them both off in turn, because Yunho grabs onto the purchase Mingi has on his hips, his hands entangling into Mingi’s. The gesture is entirely too ardent for Mingi’s brain to handle so he doubles down on taking more of Yunho into his mouth, single-minded in making this good for him. He hollows out his cheeks and lets go of any semblance of pace, just determined to get Yunho a little crazed.

And Yunho just happily receives whatever Mingi gives him, loud and sensitive. Eventually Mingi takes more initiative, moving their entwined hands from Yunho’s hips. It’s admittance enough, because Yunho’s quick to look down at him firmer, asking whether he’s sure.

Mingi hums with Yunho still in his mouth and it’s all Yunho needs. He keeps one of his hands in Mingi’s and the other returns to his hair, securing a grip that is close to causing a sting but not quite, just the way Mingi likes it.

It’s something he’d probably only ever admit to Yunho aside from himself, but he loved being used by him like this, and Yunho is reverent of him for it. Mingi places his free hand back on Yunho’s thighs and Yunho starts off as measured as he can, careful not to overwhelm Mingi. But soon, he’s lost to his own search for release, and he fucks into Mingi’s mouth in earnest.

And Mingi? Mingi loves it.

Because Yunho still looks out for Mingi while doing so, his thumb running mindless patterns along the hand of Mingi’s that’s in his. His other arm cradles Mingi’s head so that he’s supported, thrusts far enough apart that Mingi can breathe and anticipate in the rhythm Yunho tries to stay consistent with. Yunho taking care of Mingi was intrinsic to them both, and that’s what made all of this so easy for Mingi, the trust that he would never intentionally hurt him.

Yunho babbles the entire time, thanking and praising for Mingi and his mouth, looking directly at him still, like he’d promised he’d do. It’s an entirely enchanting thing, and Mingi forces himself to meet Yunho’s eyes even as his blur with tears.

Then the moment Mingi had been waiting for happens so fast he barely has any time to savour it. He feels all of Yunho’s muscles draw taut under him, and then he’s coming down Mingi’s throat, shuddering for only Mingi to witness. His moans are so pretty and sinewy that Mingi gets entirely heady with it all.

When the aftershocks that Mingi sucks him through more or less subside, Yunho eases his dick out of his mouth, hands gently caressing his cheek and jaw. Mingi doesn’t expect it, but his legs feel like jelly, and only then does it occur to him that he may have been holding himself up awkwardly for a lot longer than he thought he had been. He unceremoniously drops to the floor, and with a small laugh, straightens out his legs from under him.

Yunho looks no better, completely flushed and still panting above him. Before Mingi looks up to assure him, there’s a flicker of worry that passes through him, but it’s quickly assuaged.

And in the next breath, Yunho’s easing down to the floor, levelling with Mingi. It’s another awfully sweet thing that is so characteristically Yunho, and it kind of makes Mingi want to scream into the void. Yunho’s so, so irrevocably kind.

He smiles at Mingi and it’s so true that Yunho’s the embodiment of if the sun and a golden retriever had been somehow meshed and reborn in human form. Yunho was as good-natured as he was radiant, and Mingi doesn’t ever know how he manages to make it all seem so effortless.

Yunho wipes away the remnants of drool and cum from the mess of Mingi’s mouth with the back of his hand, thumb swiping his lip playfully. Mingi feels a bit dizzy.

There’s another second where Yunho lets them both catch their breaths, and then he’s tucking himself back in and ushering for Mingi to be nearer to him. And Mingi, stupid, pitiful Mingi, is drawn in like a magnet, because he could never say no to Yunho, never has any reason to.

Yunho kisses his temple and then his lips, soft in a way that Mingi doesn’t know what to do with. Then he resituates them both, so that Mingi’s back is to Yunho’s chest, and Mingi is warm in the best way possible. They just breathe together, and Yunho’s head drops to one of Mingi’s shoulders, soft puffs of air Mingi feels at the crook of his neck.

He can’t help but lean into the touch, fully drooping into Yunho’s arms. There’s no need for many words in moments like these, and again, Yunho’s intuitive in taking one of Mingi’s hands and lacing his fingers through his own. He rests it on Mingi’s stomach and it’s so easy for Mingi to let his guard down, just for a moment. He lets his eyes draw close, just enjoying the type of closeness he could receive of Yunho like this, only once they’d had sex. He thinks about how it would be if he could have this all the time, just relenting to his inner voice in staying as close to Yunho as he possibly could.

‘You smell really good Mingi-yah,’ Yunho’s voice is sleepy and sated, and it makes Mingi smile, ‘Thank you.’

If Mingi’s heart was fuller, it would probably split in two. He just takes those words and hides them in the corner of his brain that he could occasionally indulge in when he wasn’t actively in these moments with Yunho, in the sole of interest of maintaining his sanity. And Yunho was always so liberal when it came to his praise of Mingi, and honestly, Mingi believed that that was enough to drive anybody mad.

They stay like that for a while, in a stranger’s bedroom with the muffled blaring of some pop song Mingi knows Seonghwa and Wooyoung must be bodying the choreography for somewhere outside, bodies entangled. It stills Mingi’s mind into a peaceful blank, and these are the moments he cherishes most.

Soon, Yunho’s placing a kiss into his shoulder and rousing them both, and then they’re up, somewhat weighted by tension absolved but effort exerted. They help each other look presentable again, Yunho combing strands of Mingi’s hair with his hands while Mingi adjusts Yunho’s rosaries and tie back to the centre of his shirt, smoothing out some wrinkles in his vest.

‘We could just head out to the party and vibe y’know, we don’t have to leave immediately if you don’t want to.’

Yunho says it with his faced scrunched a little in query, and it’s entirely too cute for Mingi’s brain.

‘Yunho, you just told me you wanted me to fuck you. I’m very down to leave if you are, your call.’

Mingi was too tired for pretence, Yunho could decide for the two of them, but where Mingi stood about this was crystal clear.

A semblance of that desperation flicks into Yunho’s gaze and it’s gone just as fast. But his pupils are a little blown, tacky at the edges with an undisputable want.

‘Yeah let’s get outta here.’

Mingi’s grateful for his decision to wear dark jeans as they try to navigate through the crowd of people littered all ‘round the house. It’s inevitable that they run into people they know, and they make do with short greetings and redirected conversation until they’re almost out the door.

‘Are y’all leaving?’

It’s Jongho, and he’s got a specific look on his face.

Yunho takes point, ‘Yeah Jjong, just not really feeling it anymore.’

Mingi would buy it, it’s said without much hurry and it’s believably honest. But Jongho was Jongho.

‘The party you’ve been talking about for the last month that you spent weeks planning an outfit for, and you’re leaving a couple hours in because you’re not feeling it? You’ve spent more time at that shitty dive bar we know has a concerning amount of health hazards.’ Jongho’s not wrong, it’s a little weird, ‘And honestly hyung, with you looking this good I thought you’d at least try and get a good fuck out of it.’

Tipsy Jongho was ruthless. Mingi tries not to choke on his own spit and give away that Yunho had actually managed just that. He looks between the two of them a pace longer than Mingi’s comfortable with, inspecting, and relents.

He can tell that Yunho also pales a little, ‘Not everyone thinks with their dick when they’re drunk Jongho.’

Jongho laughs, all teeth and gums, cute and high-pitched, ‘Well maybe you should.’

‘Maybe next time.’

He looks at Mingi pointedly, then back at Yunho. Mingi feels like his soul is being screened. Jongho shakes his head, maybe almost in disbelief, ‘Yeah, maybe.’

Yunho’s closing the door on their way out when Mingi almost misses Jongho muttering a ‘have fun’. They’re in the uber before either of them can reconsider, and it’s twenty minutes before the reality of Mingi fucking Yunho would settle into him again. Mingi’s mind busies himself with other things, namely snapping at Yunho when he couldn’t get a handle on his own shit.

They’re both in the back seat and maybe sitting closer than best friends probably would, every part of Mingi’s shoulders all the way to his knees touching Yunho’s matching limbs. God, why was this all so hard?

‘I’m sorry I got so in my head. I was a jerk.’

Yunho looks at him properly, gauging what Mingi needs. It’s an odd thing, how Yunho knew which way to flit a conversation from just one look at him. Tonight, Mingi’s mind is solely focused on the few hours ahead of them, and Yunho reads it right off his face.

‘If an outfit gets you so horny you get existential, maybe I should feel complimented.’

Mingi scoffs, both offended Yunho hit right on the mark and embarrassed about feeling that way in the first place. Still, Mingi feels bad.

‘You deserved an actual compliment Yun, not whatever the fuck I was doing.’

‘Well, I got that either way, and you have a whole night to make it up to me yeah?’ Yunho looks at him expectantly, and it heats Mingi from the inside out.

He just wants to be kissing Yunho already.

‘What did you want to say back then anyway?’ Yunho asks, paying no mind to Mingi’s inner monologue.

‘Back when?’

He chuckles, ‘Before you stormed out of the room in a jealous rage at me talking to a classmate?’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Nope, that’s your job tonight thank you.’

Yunho’s got his cheekiest smile on and Mingi mumbles for a higher power to give him grace because sometimes he did actually want to strangle the guy.

Yunho’s fully laughing now, the deep, full one that moved his body right into Mingi’s and was reserved for when he was experiencing just right the amount of glee, mostly at Mingi’s expense. Mingi shoves him anyway.

‘I was curious about your claws asshole.’

He sobers, ‘Oh?’

Mingi wants to bash his head against the car window. He watches Yunho draw his claw-cladded hand in front of him, as if he were trying to look at it with new eyes.

‘I thought it’d be a nice touch.’

And Mingi knows when Yunho does shit to purposely tease him. But this same Yunho was so oblivious sometimes, too lost in the day to day to notice how much everyone really paid attention to him and his little touches as if they were intentional. The claws were apparently one of those things.

‘Well, they’re really fucking hot Yunho. Just like your hands,’ he says, there was no need to mince his words, ‘was caught a bit off guard when I spotted ‘em.’

‘You like my hands?’

There’s an innocent lilt to the question. Mingi calls bullshit. ‘Stop fishing.’

Yunho knew just how much Mingi liked his fucking hands.

And then there’s that laugh again. Mingi wonders whether there’ll be a lifetime more of this pendulum of complicated feelings he has to navigate every time Yunho so much as smiles.

Yunho pointedly places the accessorised hand onto Mingi’s thighs and they’re quiet for the rest of the ride. He uses the blunt claws to traverse an expanse of his thigh, and it burns Mingi even if there’s a layer of clothing separating the claws from his actual skin. It builds this strum in him, matched to the pattern of Yunho’s hands; a keening to get Yunho under him as soon as humanly possible.

They barely make it to the door before Mingi’s grips at Yunho’s waist from behind him, kissing his neck and ushering for him to get the door open. He licks and sucks liberally, exulting in the way the key stops jingling all for Yunho to sigh at the feeling. His half-hard dick is intentionally situated against Yunho’s ass, and honestly Mingi’s already having such a good time.

‘Mingi-yah I can’t fucking focus when you do that.’

Mingi hums, ‘Then do better.’

Mingi’s hands slip underneath Yunho’s vest just as he slots the key into the door successfully. Yunho’s muscles tense instinctually, and Mingi’s splays his palms against his stomach.

Mingi’s been thinking about it all night and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yunho wearing a vest. And as somebody who prided themselves on paying attention to him, intentional or not, Mingi doesn’t know how he’s missed one of his now certifiable favourites from Yunho’s wardrobe.

‘Where did you even get a vest?’

Yunho turns around to look at him, and it’s sharp as if to remind Mingi of the time and place. Mingi’s easily distracted, sue him. Yunho indulges him irrespective, locking the door.

‘I thrifted it for my grandpa’s funeral. Now would you just shut up and just kiss me?’

‘Feisty. And morbid, how typical of you.’

‘You’re fucking unbelievable.’

Mingi’s laugh is lost into Yunho’s mouth and Mingi’s so certainly home. They make it to Yunho’s room having only checked their backs into the kitchen counter and Yunho’s doorframe once (maybe twice), and then Mingi has him against the door again, mirroring much of their position from an hour or so ago.

Kissing Yunho is easy, easy, easy, and they’re toppling on to the bed as gracefully as they had traversed their living room to get there.

Having Yunho under him didn’t happen nearly enough for Mingi’s liking, so he just enjoys the feeling of him reaching up into Mingi’s kisses with a captivating eagerness. One of Mingi’s legs are in between Yunho’s and he’s so good at taking as he pleases, rutting up against Mingi delectably.

And for the next considerable amount of time, Mingi does a shit job at taking the lead, lost in the burning contact of Yunho grinding against him in a pace that gets him unbelievably hot. The friction between the material of his jeans and Yunho’s trousers is something sinful, and he’s so easily overwhelmed. He just pants into Yunho’s mouth like Yunho does into his, smiles here and there, just enjoying being this close. The back of Mingi’s mind wonders whether this is normal behaviour for friends who casually fuck.

Mingi’s coat had been long since abandoned, alongside Yunho’s vest and their shoes. Only when Yunho reaches to entwine their hands above their heads does he realise they probably should get rid of the copious amounts of jewellery they had on, especially the rosaries. Mingi wasn’t particularly religious, but Yunho was, and the thought of fucking him with those on, although undeniably hot, sat a bit too blasphemous for his taste.

‘Do you wanna take those off?’

Yunho’s still moving against him, but his eyes flutter open just a smidge, ‘Take what off?’

‘The rosaries?’

‘Do you want me to?’

Mingi stalls. This Yunho was inching closer to the cock-dumb, senseless Yunho that got a bit lost to everything else when they were fucking, determined in only keeping Mingi pleasured. He takes the high road.

‘As much as I’d love the fantasy of fucking a priest-adjacent, you’d probably regret me being eye to eye with Jesus while I fucked you in the morning.’

Yunho concedes, ‘Well, He’s always watching.’

Mingi smiles, ‘Ah, a voyeur, kinky.’

‘Just get them off me.’

He does as he’s told, getting them both to sit up. He takes all of his rings off and drops them into the little bowl Yunho has kept on his bed-side table for him. As much as Mingi loved his jewellery, he could be a little reckless about where he left his things in the house, so Yunho had ordered these hand-made frog themed ring plates for every room of the apartment, his own included. They were cute and eclectic, soft greens and water lilies painted onto them as well. He does the same for his own necklaces, and then goes to do the same for Yunho.

He realises that Yunho has been watching him the entire time, and when he meets his gaze, there’s something in it that he can’t necessarily discern. It’s heavy and comforting and heated all at the same time, and it compels Mingi to reach for him with a kiss.

It’s searing, how receptive Yunho is of it, leaning into his touch and swiping his tongue across Mingi’s lips for better access. And Mingi’s a weak man, giving into Yunho’s whims easily. He only breaks away to do as he intended so that they could get right back into it, without all the obstructions.

‘So fucking pretty Mingi-yah.’

Yunho whispers, while Mingi makes work of his hands in taking off the rosaries from his neck and loosening his tie. He takes Yunho’s clawed hand in his own, and carefully unties the clips holding the metal in place. He’s rhythmic in loosening the jewellery and massaging each of his fingers, confined in a way that upon a closer look, must have been somewhat uncomfortable. Mingi sees this as his own act of worship, because it had long been decided, half fate and other half his heart, that he would stand at Yunho’s alter again, and again, and again.

He has no response for when Yunho’s earnestness was as clear as this, almost as piercing as the rays of moonlight that spill into his room with the blinds only half-drawn. Mingi’s only solution is to straddle him, unbuttoning his dress shirt while kissing Yunho stupid.

It’s all so slow and gentle, no hurry now that they were in their home, where they’re most safe and comfortable. The room heats up with every lick of Yunho’s tongue into his own, and Mingi just traverses the planes of his torso once the obstacle of Yunho’s shirt and tie are thrown to the wayside.

His hands find themselves around Yunho’s shoulders and buried in his hair, just revelling in the feeling of having him this way. No matter how often they ended up like this, Mingi’s mind and body treated it as a once in lifetime opportunity, never knowing when this arrangement would blow up in their faces. He chose to savour as many of the seconds as he could, because this was important to him.

He leans them both back onto the sheets, and Mingi kisses down Yunho’s neck. He could already tell that patches of his skin were beginning to darken from when he’d been a little too heavy-handed, but some egregiously primal part of him sucks those same spots, a strange thrill of having some of Yunho marked up by him.

Yunho just whines, completely sensitised to him. Mingi works his way down Yunho’s navel and it’s something precious, the way he’s allowed to touch and kiss and tug. He kisses the side of Yunho’s hip, where there’s linework of clover sprigs and two daffodils on his skin, an ode to his unusual good-luck and birth month, both he endearingly credits his mom for. It’s Mingi’s favourite of Yunho’s three tattoos, and it’s just as simple as the other two. His hands play with the hem of Yunho’s trousers, and it makes him squirm, so clearly asking for more.

Mingi shrugs off his own shirt and jeans, and then he shimmies Yunho out of his. He takes his time in kissing all the skin that’s now on display, dragging his fingers along Yunho’s sides and legs. He situates himself between Yunho’s thighs and drops kisses against his sternum, listening for Yunho’s pretty little hums and whimpers. Mingi’s drunk on how Yunho smells, like fresh mint and something spicy, and it just encases him in a timeless bubble, no attention to anything other than the man under him.

His lips re-attach to Yunho’s as he swipes his thumbs against Yunho’s nipples. Yunho’s gasps into his mouth and it’s so delicate, how it devolves into mindless mewls every time Mingi decides to pinch or prod. He can feel the wet patch of Yunho’s underwear and he smiles into the kiss, because Yunho’s just so endearingly receptive. Without much more flourish, he strips them both fully, and then their dicks are slotting together and Mingi’s moaning a ‘fuck’ as Yunho secures his arms ‘round Mingi’s neck.

They grind into each other until Mingi changes their position in the interest of not cumming on Yunho’s stomach like a teenager and losing the opportunity to properly fuck him. He busies his mouth with Yunho’s nipples instead, rolling them in between his teeth and feeling for the way chest rumbles in pleasure under his. When it gets a little too much, Yunho ushers Mingi’s mouth back up to his and they just kiss for kissing’s sake – tender and aimless and so, so good.

And then Mingi just takes a second to really look at Yunho. They’ve only got Yunho’s bedside lamp on and Mingi still kind of hates that he decided on a lava lamp to do the job. The room is imbued with muted purples and blues, and it’s nothing like the warm yellows Mingi much prefers. But here, the moonlight meshes perfectly with those cool tones and Yunho looks ethereal, the light cast on him softening every eyelash, ridge and muscle to Mingi’s eye. There are blooming reds from where Mingi has nipped and sucked, and Yunho instinctively moves up to Mingi just to be close. With no doubt in Mingi’s mind, this is a definitive moment where he’s sure that there’s nothing and no-one more beautiful than Jeong Yunho.

He kisses him.

‘Y’know Yun, for as hot as you are dressed up, you’re so fucking pretty when you’re naked for me.’

Yunho makes a strangled sort of noise and leans back into the sheets, elbow over his eyes. Mingi just laughs, tapping at the arm over his face.

‘Yun, c’mon, let up.’

Yunho shakes his head but listens to Mingi anyway, voice quiet. ‘Then don’t look at me like that.’

‘Look at you like what?’

Yunho looks at Mingi knowingly, blush definitely present but not really visible, ‘Like you mean it.’

When they were this close, Mingi had absolutely no filter on him, for better or worse. ‘I do mean it though.’

Yunho groans again. Mingi wasn’t the only one who was awkward in the face of earnestness.

‘Then show me, okay?’ Yunho looks right at Mingi as he says it, gaze heavy, ‘Don’t tell me.’

Mingi takes it as the affirmation and task that it is. He rummages Yunho’s bedside drawer for the lube and a condom, lathering his hands and stroking himself to take off the edge. Mingi can’t help but stutter at how sensitive it is, and he makes the mistake of looking at Yunho at the exact moment. It’s utterly devastating to see the hunger in his eyes, as if predator to prey. Mingi, then with much shakier hands, slips on the condom and nudges for Yunho to spread his legs further open.

Yunho does as he’s asked, and Mingi takes his time in appreciating Yunho’s legs. He kisses down one and up the other, leaving a few marks on his inner thighs just because he can.

‘Mingi.’

He just does as he pleases, peppering kisses everywhere of Yunho’s he can reach.

‘Mingi.’

He just enjoys in Yunho’s sweat-slicked, blush-warmed skin.

‘I swear to god you’re so-’

And that’s the exact moment he chooses to pour the lube onto his skin, and the rest of Yunho’s sentence is dissolved into a startled moan. Mingi knows that Yunho’s fucked himself on his own fingers before, so he doesn’t wait for him, slicking up a finger and pushing in.

‘Asshole, you’re an asshole.’

All Mingi can focus on is how pretty Yunho sounds winded with Mingi just barely a knuckle deep.

‘I’m in your asshole actually.’

‘I hate you.’

Mingi just laughs, ‘Pity.’

He gets Yunho to settle into the feeling anyway, letting him breathe a bit before he pushes in further. He manages a few shallow thrusts before Yunho drops his head onto the pillow and asks for more. Mingi provides, and before long, he’s got three fingers fucking into Yunho.

Yunho breath stutters every time Mingi thrusts in and it has him so wet. There’s a mess of precum on Yunho’s torso and it’s almost too much for Mingi’s tiny brain to commit to memory, overwhelmed by everything that was actually happening. Mingi kisses Yunho’s hip and keeps to pace, his free hand in one of Yunho’s.

Then Mingi decides to be merciful and crooks his fingers, letting Yunho really feel much of his fingers inside him. Yunho just keens, affirming him over and over again to keep going, and when Mingi skims over his prostrate, he jolts, moaning at the contact.

‘Mingi-yah, please, ‘nough now ‘m ready, please. Come up here.’

Mingi does as he’s asked and gets kissed fondly in return. Yunho’s breathing is laboured and he’s so pretty, a version of desperation in his limbs Mingi hasn’t really witnessed before. Yunho sighs into the feel of Mingi’s hair and his tongue in his mouth, anticipation quickening him. He pecks Mingi a few times then, and takes a moment to collect himself as best he can.

Yunho looks up at him, ‘So,’

Mingi repeats it back, dumbly, ‘So?’

Yunho grins, and it’s genuinely resplendent, ‘Be a good boy and fuck me stupid yeah?’

Mingi scoffs, ‘You really know how to get a guy’s dick wet huh?’

Yunho makes a point to stroke his lubed dick once or twice, ‘Your dick’s already wet.’

Mingi hisses at the contact. ‘You’re insufferable.’

‘And yet you’re putting your dick up my ass.’

‘Ever so eloquent.’

Yunho sticks his tongue out at Mingi and it’s just real fucking silly, apparently fucked out Yunho wasn’t big on restraint. Mingi has no choice but to kiss him on the forehead.

It has the intended effect, Yunho shuts up for the time being and Mingi can’t really tell whether it’s in surprise, fondness or contentment. Either way, it gives him enough focus to line himself up against Yunho.

Then the anticipation, and some of the nerves, seem to slam back into the both of them instantaneously. Nothing about this would feel bad or wrong, that Mingi knew, but it was new and different, so the hesitation is almost instinctual.

He wanted this to be good for Yunho.

He gathers the courage to meet Yunho’s eyes and there’s the same question in his own before Mingi even asks.

‘You’re sure?’

Yunho looks at him without a flicker of change in his resolve, and Mingi knows before he answers. Yunho nods, voice a mere whisper, ‘Yeah Mingi-yah, I trust you.’

Mingi kisses Yunho once, and then again for good measure, making Yunho smile if nothing else. And then he takes the plunge, easing himself past Yunho’s rim as slowly as he can manage.

Yunho’s eyes screw shut almost immediately at the stretch, grasping at Mingi’s hair, ‘Fuck.’

Mingi caresses his jaw, and it jostles them a bit, making Yunho groan.

‘Yun you good?’

Yunho just shudders and speaks against Mingi’s lips. ‘Fuck- fuck- yeah, yeah- ‘m okay, jus-just go slow okay? Feels good, feels so good.’

Mingi lets out the breath he had no clue he was holding. He tries his best to listen to Yunho, pacing forward as slow as he can. It feels so good and Mingi’s not even pushed in all the way.

Yunho just nods occasionally, encouraging him, and not long after, Mingi’s fully inside him, hips flush against his.

Yunho’s cock is trapped between them and he’s leaking onto himself so fucking prettily, and it’s such an obscene, welcome thing for Mingi to feel. He just lets them breathe for a second, and lets Yunho get comfortable in the entire sensation.

Yunho just kisses him, almost desperate for the contact. Mingi’s paying attention to any aversion from him, but he's as steady as ever, licking into Mingi’s mouth so invigoratingly, tongue swirling with his. Mingi does his best to reciprocate, but there’s too much and not enough for him to stay fully focused, and even worse, Yunho clenches around him intuitively. Mingi can’t help but let out a whimper.

‘Yun- I- can I move? Can I?’

Yunho’s nodding at him before he’s even finished, and Mingi doesn’t wait, experimenting with a shallow thrust. They mirror in sharp inhales and it’s most definitely a lot. Mingi hasn’t really topped all that much so getting reacquainted is overwhelming to say the least. Yunho’s breathing heavy below him and it’s clear he’s feeling much the same.

‘Hey, hey- Yunho, open your eyes for me? Is it too much? Talk to me.’

It takes a second for the words to register, but Yunho listens, fluttering his eyes open.

Yunho’s voice is shaky, ‘I need you to move- you can move, okay?’

Mingi listens to him, trusts that Yunho would stop him if anything feels wrong or if he wants to stop. This time, he’s more intentional, pulling out almost completely and pushing in, slow and deep.

‘Yes- fuck- Mingi-yah, just like that. Just like that.’ And then Yunho’s nodding into Mingi’s mouth, moving his legs from the bed to wrap ‘round Mingi’s waist.

Mingi does much of the same again, and Yunho downright whines in affirmation. Finally, he feels Yunho relax underneath him, and Mingi also gets a bit more comfortable. He sets the pace as asked, and it’s fucking indescribable how good it feels to have Yunho like this.

Mingi’s most definitely high on it, the trust of it all and that Yunho was allowing Mingi something he’d not given anyone else. He just gets lost in being with Yunho in it, thrusts that have the both of them moaning and singing praises into each other’s mouths. It feels so, so fucking good.

Just as Mingi feels the temptation to pace up, Yunho shares in the wavelength. ‘Faster, please Min, please.’

Mingi’s fucking enchanted by it, the desperate, wrecked timbre of Yunho’s voice so close to him he can feel it reverberating through Yunho’s chest into his. He just does as he’s asked, mindless in the pleasure of making Yunho feel good. The way Yunho’s body arcs up from the bed is praise enough, and it’s even better accompanied by the continuous string of yes’s, fuck’s, and so good’s Mingi gets in response.

He doesn’t even think twice about wrapping his hand around ‘round the back of Yunho’s waist to hold him steady, mirroring in what Yunho’s done with him countlessly. It’s something more than intoxicating for him to realise the fact, and Yunho just wanes into his tide, taking every thrust as Mingi gives him.

They’re panting messes as the fire in Mingi’s gut speeds into drawing all of his muscles tight. Yunho just encourages him, clinging to every bit of Mingi he can hang onto. And if it weren’t for how tightly screwed shut Yunho’s eyes were, Mingi would’ve probably continued that pace until either of them cummed.

But the more Mingi brought himself down to earth, the more he realised just how tense Yunho felt under him, everything stiff and rigid. He tries to slow them down into something a little slower and when Yunho’s still irresponsive to the change, he knows he’s read him right.

‘Yunho?’ Mingi breathes. Yunho still has his eyes closed, not really present in the moment. His body still feels much the same. ‘Yun?’

‘Baby, baby? Relax for me yeah? Just let go for me? Breathe.’

Mingi doesn’t even clock the term of endearment until it slips, but it feels right. And he has no time to regret it because Yunho responds to him, opening his eyes and then readily grounding himself back into his body. Mingi’s almost stopped moving completely, and feels Yunho finally relax under him, muscles pliant and pliable.

‘I’m sorry, I-I-’

Mingi doesn’t let him finish, conviction clear, ‘No- Yun, no. Don’t apologise you’re doing so good, that’s what I’m here for, I’m here.’

Yunho’s a rush of pants but he’s quick to assure Mingi that he doesn’t want anything to change, legs still locked ‘round his waist, ‘’m okay, promise, just need a second.’

Mingi nods and kneads anything he can reach, ‘Just tell me when.’

He just traverses from Yunho’s temple to his cheeks and then to his neck and back, featherlight kisses while his hands make work of loosening Yunho’s muscles as best he can. Time is lost to Mingi, but their breathing eventually syncs up, Yunho mirroring in Mingi’s controlled, deep breaths. And then it’s not long until Yunho moans at the contact Mingi’s giving him.

‘You can move again, I’m sure,’ Yunho has a small smile on his face having answered Mingi’s next question before he’s been asked, ‘you feel so fucking good I think I was close to ascending to a higher plane just then, so please just make me cum so hard I forget my own name yeah?’

Something loosens in Mingi’s chest, re-invigorated now, ‘I’ll do my best.’

Yunho chuckles, ‘You always do.’

And again, Mingi jumps headfirst into the task he’s been set. This time, he’s a bit more carefree, and within a few measured thrusts, he’s comfortable in snapping his hips up to meet Yunho’s, and then they actually find their rhythm. Yunho keeps his eyes on Mingi as if to remind himself to relax, and Mingi takes initiative in fucking Yunho stupid as requested.

And he does, because in a few more thrusts, Yunho just clings onto Mingi that much harder, a stream of yes’s and right there’s murmured into Mingi’s neck. Mingi doesn’t pride himself on his people-pleasing tendencies, but for this one instance, he doubles down, giving Yunho exactly what he wants.

Enticingly, Yunho just gets louder and Mingi’s fucking drunk on it. When he’s sure he can’t keep the pace up for any longer without cumming himself, Mingi postures a hand between the two of them, stroking Yunho the same way his hips snap into him.

‘Oh my- so close Min- so fucking close-’

Yunho just clenches against Mingi with choked off pleas, completely overwhelmed with all the contact. Mingi feels like he’s being electrified from the inside out and then Yunho’s entire body tremors, shuddering into his orgasm between them.

Mingi has half the mind to stop and give Yunho a minute to cool-off, but Yunho’s insistent, lips on his and heels digging into the dimples of Mingi’s back.

‘Keep going for me? Keep going, want you to cum in me, yeah? Want you to cum too.’

Yunho sounds so wrecked and Mingi’s a weak fucking man. In the final dregs of his shattered resolve, he just takes as he needs, mindlessly fucking into Yunho until he topples into his own orgasm.

And in the seconds where Mingi’s just in the aftershocks of it all, it feels fucking unbelievable, and he’s almost confident that the high will never ease.

His heart rate slows eventually, and the feeling of being in Yunho’s arms in the come down is a welcome comfort. They’re still both breathing fairly harshly, but they’re fully snuggled up now, dead weights against each other.

In the middles of Mingi slipping in and out of a dazed consciousness, he feels Yunho giggle underneath him. Their hands are loosely entangled and Mingi wakes himself up a bit more, kissing the back of Yunho’s that’s closest to him.

Yunho sighs, contented.

‘Pretty sure I did forget my own name for a minute there,’ he says, breaking the silence, ‘well done.’

Mingi can’t help but laugh, biting Yunho’s shoulder in good faith.

Yunho just shoves him, and Mingi makes the inevitable, devastating decision to pull out. Yunho hisses from under him, but other than that, Mingi finds no other discomfort when he surveys his face. If anything, Yunho looks happy, a satisfied glow on his face, puffy with sleepiness. It gives Mingi enough reassurance to get up and rid of his condom, back with Yunho as soon as he’d left.

Mingi picks off some make-up wipes from the nightstand and warms them up with his hand, not yet ready to separate from Yunho. He cleans them up hastily and they lie together, just basking in the other’s warmth.

Mingi’s sure Yunho would’ve flagged it up if something didn’t feel right, but he asks just to make sure anyways.

‘Yun?’

‘Hmm?’

Mingi doesn’t know why he suddenly feels shy about it, ‘That was okay right? You feel okay about it?’

He doesn’t realise Yunho’s halfway to sleep until he tilts his head up, eyes closed and with an adorable pout. He kisses Mingi easily, and then he’s snuggling further into Mingi’s chest and tangling their legs, as if craving the contact, ‘If you would’ve told me a vest, claws and some rosaries would get me here, I would’ve cosplayed a priest-adjacent months ago.’

The bricks on Mingi’s chest dissipate immediately, and he just hugs Yunho closer to his chest, kissing his forehead, ‘Just ask next time weirdo, like a normal person.’

Mingi feels Yunho’s smile against his skin, ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

‘You’re an idiot.’

Yunho hums, not in disagreement, ‘Maybe so.’

//

Mingi does manage to get them both to their bathroom after a much needed post-coital nap. As much as he’d enjoyed every second of the night, the feel of grimy make-up laden skin and tacky sheets wakes him up.

Where Mingi should maybe stop and consider showering himself and going to sleep in his own bed, his mind doesn’t allow him to entertain it for long at all. There was no way he was leaving Yunho alone after the first night he’d bottomed, even if Mingi would be just across the hall.

So he uptakes the gargantuan task of waking up the heaviest sleeper known to man, especially post-sex.

‘We need to shower Yun, seriously, we’re disgusting, get the fuck up.’

Yunho just groans and turns away from the noise that is Mingi’s voice.

He maybe tries for another five minutes with no response before relenting and going to the bathroom himself. Mingi turns the showerhead on and lets the water run warm before trudging back into Yunho’s room.

‘The water is running Yun, c’mon, just five minutes, we can shower off.’

Yunho huffs into the pillow, eyes still un-opened, ‘You go shower off.’

Mingi is tired and sleepy and maybe a little grumpy, but the fondness he feels thaws some it off, ‘You can get into the fresh sheets in my bed and your favourite hoodie of mine, get up.’

Yunho incoherently grumbles all the way from turning back to Mingi and getting himself up. It’s arguably the cutest thing he’s done in recent weeks.

‘C’mon you big baby.’

And ever the opportunist, Yunho doesn’t even miss a beat, ‘You’re a big baby.’

Mingi laughs all the way to the bathroom and the warm water is as heavy a reprieve as he’d imagined it to be. Even Yunho sobers up after a while, enjoying the stream and Mingi practically latching onto any available part of him he can.

It’s slow and lazy and something so specially liminal, no time and no reality to contextualise everything they are and aren’t to each other. They lather the other in Yunho’s shower gel and rinse off together, walking into Mingi’s room as promised.

Mingi keeps to his word and lends Yunho his hoodie of choice and a pair of basketball shorts. He wears much the same thing, and then they’re under the covers in no time.

It’s a soft ending to a rather eventful day, and Yunho curls into Mingi’s side. It’s literally everything Mingi’s ever wanted and everything he’s pretty sure he’ll ever want in this life, all the single, quiet and inconsequential moments with Yunho by his side.

Yunho looks at him with sleep-heavy eyes, adjusting to the lack of light in the room. He smiles and kisses Mingi.

These are the kisses Mingi never knows what to do with. They are few and far between, but they happen, from both sides, where they’re distracted enough to just do it. These kisses are purposeless and unerringly tender, precious. To both Mingi and Yunho, if he had to guess.

‘Sorry, your mouth looked too kissable.’

Mingi smiles, brain too slow to understand what Yunho really means, ‘Well I’m glad you kissed it then.’

‘Yeah,’ Yunho sighs blearily, ‘you’re welcome.’