You and Minghao tend to flirt whenever you cross paths, but you didn't think he was actually interested in you. Things taken an interesting turn when he decides to chase after you.
⟢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): smut with plot, romance
⟢ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol, famous dj au
⟢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.3k
⟢ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing
⟢ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom minghao, bratty reader, choking, unprotected sex, mentioning the traffic light system, masturbation, lots of making out, big dick minghao, oral (fem rec), hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, body worship, multiple positions, overstimulation, squirting, minghao talks mc through it. nicknames: starlight, baby, good girl (hers) baby (his)
⟢ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+
⟢ 𝐚𝐧: shout out to @haologram for influencing me to write this one. Thank you @svtts for beta reading. divider by @/saradika-graphics.
When it comes to Xu Minghao you never planned on starting anything with him. In the last six months he’d been frequently playing DJ sets at the club you work at. You've watched as countless girl fawn over him. The funny thing is, he has all these women falling at his feet, but he never hooks up with any of them.
Minghao has been a big hit in the DJ scene for a while before he started playing at your club, his residency has brought in a lot of people. He's had a lot of women come to his set with the intentions of hooking up with him. He has a strict rule about not hooking up with fans. The last thing he needs is for things to get messy and for rumors to start flying around about him.
It's after three in the morning and the club is finally cleared out of anyone who isn’t staff. You've been working as a bottle girl here for about three years now. The money is good, and the tips are even better.
The second the last customer leaves, you run to your locker and grab your oversized grey zip up hoodie. Seungkwan is in charge the club, and he keeps the ac at an Arctic temperature. You've had goose bumps on your arms for most the night. Standing in by the bar, you're chatting with Wonwoo, the bartender, whilst counting your tips. Any night Minghao has a set he tends to bring in big spenders.
"Did you end up giving Minghao your number?" Wonwoo asks as he's putting glasses away.
Turns out when the a star DJ asks for your number, the entire club will know immediately. You and Minghao tend to flirt whenever you cross paths, but you didn't think he was actually interested in you. You were surprised when he asked for your number tonight before his set.
"I don't fuck coworkers." You say slapping down Wonwoo's part of your tips on the counter.
"I wouldn't call a famous DJ your coworkers?" Wonwoo reaches over grabbing the cash.
"We're both contracted by Choi Seungcheol right now. So that makes him my coworker."
"He's the talent and you’re a bottle girl. You're not coworkers." Wonwoo rolls his eyes at your comment. "You know he's very picky about who he dates right? He's not some manwhore…" A few of your coworkers are friends with Minghao and you know he's not someone who tends to sleep around, but that doesn't matter to you.
"I know, but I'm not trying to be his booth baddie." You tug your hoodie closer to your body.
"You're funny." Wonwoo barks out a laugh.
"How so?"
"You were complaining about being single and unintentionally celibate last month, and now you have a guy clearly interested. And he's not some asshole, he's a nice guy." You vividly remember complaining to Wonwoo. in a not so polite way, that you were accidentally celibate and you, were losing your mind.
"Maybe I like being celibate?" That's a lie, You’re actually so horny, to the point that you’re starting to lose your mind. There is only so much your pretty pink vibrator can do for you.
"Celibate?" Your eyes go wide at the sound of Minghao's voice behind you.
Wonwoo bites his lip, holding back a smile. "Yes, our darling sunshine here, is accidentally celibate."
"Sunshine?" Minghao raises his brow, leaning against the bar.
"Wonwoo likes to tease me and call me that." You glare at Wonwoo.
"You remind me more of starlight." Minghao's words suddenly send butterflies fluttering around your stomach.
Wonwoo slowly backs away from the bar, giving you privacy with Minghao. Most of the crew has gone home at this point. You three are the only ones out in the main area.
"So?" He's comfortably leaning against the bar, giving you his undivided attention. A smile tugs at his lips, as his eyes wander across your body. "You're accidentally celibate?"
"It's intentionally now." By the way he's looking at you with his big eyes, you might not be celibate for much longer.
"Are you lying you to me?" He cocks his head to the side.
"My sexual activities shouldn't be your concern." You lean in poking his chest.
His tongue wets his lips. He grabs your hand before you can pull it away. "I would like it to be, but it seems you aren’t interested in me."
Cocking your head to the side, you study him for a moment. "Who said I'm not interested?"
"I asked for you number, and you said no." He releases your hand.
"I'm not in a place to be dating someone." It's not a lie. Your last relationship kind of messed you up, and recently you've been trying to focus on yourself. So technically, you told him no because you don't fuck your coworkers, and you know he doesn't fuck around, he's the type that likes to be in a relationship.
"So that why you said no?"
"That and I don't fuck my coworkers."
He leans in close, testing the waters. "I'm not your coworker, babe." His words send a shiver down your spine. "So think of another excuse."
"I'm not going to be your girlfriend."
He leans in even closer, his lips are so close you can practically taste his peppermint chapstick. "At this point I don't care. You've got me so riled up, we can just fuck. Your celibacy can end tonight."
Looking past him, you check to see if anyone is around. The last thing you need is for this to start spreading around the club like a wildfire.
"Did you just want my number so we could hook up?" You pull back, giving yourself a little space.
"No, but at this point I'll take anything you'll give."
You lean against the bar, trying your hardest to appear confident. "Who said I'm willing to give anything?"
He squints his eyes at you for a moment. "Fine starlight, I won't chase you if you don't want me to." He pushes himself away from the bar. "Maybe I'll call up the other bottle girl. The red head slipped me her number tonight." You've never been a jealous girl, but the idea of Minghao hooking up with your coworker after this, sends a feeling of jealousy rushing through your veins.
"You clearly don't take rejection well. Did the fame go to your head Mr. Famous Dj?" You take another step towards him.
He rolls his eyes, he takes a step closer to you. "I've been rejected plenty of times, I've just never wanted someone like I want you."
"One night." You lean in so your lips are near his. His hands reach out, grabbing the unzipped part of your hoodie. "Show me what you got."
"Your place or mine?" He whispers before crashing his lips into yours. He tugs you closer to him by your hoodie.
"Yours, I want the full experience."
-
Walking into Minghao's apartment, you're quickly reminded of just how rich he is. There’s expensive art on the wall and sitting on his table is a Louis Vuitton duffle and matching bag. His apartment is basically a penthouse.
Walking into his place, you take off your shoes and walk towards the huge window. The view he has is absolutely beautiful. The massive window overlooks the bright city below.
The quiet footsteps behind you is a reminder Minghao is by you. "This place is nice." You look over at him.
"Not too bad for a fancy DJ, right?" He lets out a little chuckle.
"You, Mr. I don't do one stands, like me enough you're okay with one night?"
Minghao reaches over he pinches your chin, making you look directly at him. "I'm convinced, I'm going to fuck you so good you'll beg me for more." Your lips part, you want to make a bratty come back, but he's rendered you speechless. "Cat got your tongue?"
Silently, you blink up at him.
"Go to my room, it's the one at the end of the hallway on the right. Strip naked and sit on my bed." He releases your chin.
You've never had a man speak to you like this, and it's absolutely thrilling. All you can do is nod. Turning on your heels you head off to his room.
Opening the door you're greeted by a large bedroom. One of the walls is a full-length window that looks out onto the city. His king size bed is against the wall with expensive looking bright white sheets.
You take your time stripping away all your clothes and with neatly folding them and placing them on the dresser. You aren't sure what Minghao is doing, but you don't want to disobey his orders.
Sitting on the bed fully naked, you patiently wait for Minghao to join you. The door opens and he slowly walks in, holding a glass bottle of water. He places it on the dresser, slowly walking towards you.
He pulls his shirt off, tossing it into the hamper by the dresser. "I need to ask, what are your boundaries?"
"Are you into bdsm stuff?" Nothing about this man radiates hard dom to you.
"No, not particularly. I just feel like you like being bratty, and you clearly want someone to put you in your place."
Tilting your head to the side, you take you time studying him. "What if I want you to treat me like a princess?"
He leans in so his face is right in front of yours. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you to fuck me. I don't want some hard dom experience. I'll give you control, but I'm not gonna be some submission pillow princess."
"What's your safe word?" His face is still right in front of yours.
"We can use the traffic light system."
He pulls back. "Okay." He doesn't say anything for a moment. "Crawl onto the bed fully. Spread your legs and start playing with yourself." You've definitely never had man say that to you before.
"Okay." You scramble back on the bed.
Your head rests against the plush pillows. Instinctively you spread your legs. Your eyes stay trained on Minghao, your hand dips between your legs. Sliding your fingers through your folds, you're instantly embrassed by how wet you are.
A soft gasps passes your lips, as your fingers rub your clit.
Minghao stops watching you, and turns his back. He works on removing the rest of his clothes until he's just as naked as you. Your eyes stay locked on his back. Sliding your fingers further down, you dip them inside your needy core.
Low moans leave your lips. You had zero intentions of playing with yourself whilst Minghao refused to touch you.
"Hao—" his name is a sinful prayer.
He looks over his shoulder raising his brow. "Yes?"
"Please—"
"Please, what?" He goes back to opening his dresser.
"I need your help." You pump your fingers in and out at a quicker pace.
"Cum on your fingers, and I'll give you anything you want." He pulls a bottle of lube out of the drawer.
He turns around and your mouth waters at the sight of his naked body. His body is lean and toned, and there are a scattering of tattoos on his torso and arms. You could spend hours tracing them. Your eyes fixate on his massive cock— he is already hard, and leaking. It's a pretty shade of pink, and he curves up the perfect amount.
Clicking the bottle of lube open, he pours the liquid onto his length. His eyes stay locked on yours, as he slowly pumps himself.
"Be a good girl, and cum on your fingers."
You rub two fingers on your sensitive clit, knowing this is the quickest way to make yourself fall apart.
The room is filled with your moans. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he keeps pumping his length.
"Minghao—" you cry out his name. Your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your walls contract around nothing, throwing your head back, you moan loudly. Your eyes are squeezed shut. All your muscles feel loose. Your whole body is like a pile of mush. You're never came that hard with just your fingers.
Minghao places his knee on the bed catching your attention. Your eyes feel heavy, as if you can barely keep them open.
He moves so he's laying between your legs. After the orgasm you just experienced, you can't imagine him eating you out.
He parts your wet folds with two fingers. He licks a fat strip from your needy hole up to your clit.
Without thinking, you tangle your fingers in his long blonde locks. He chuckles against your core. Two of his long slender fingers slide into you with ease. He starts pumping them in and out of you while he sucks on your sensitive clit.
You're still fragile from your orgasm. You squirm as he moves his fingers in a come hither motion, brushing that spot inside, that has you seeing stars.
"Hao—" your second orgasm hits just as hard as your first one. Throwing your head back you cry out his name. You're terrified he might get a noise complaint at how loud you're being.
He pulls away, dipping his finger slick with your release into his mouth. "You taste so sweet."
Right now you can't form words, let alone think of anything bratty to say. Two back to back orgasms have left your brain feeling like mush. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to relax, letting yourself ride out your high. The feeling of his hand gently rubbing your thigh helps.
A few moments pass before your eyes flutter open. He's looking at you, cocking his head to the side.
"Can you take another one?"
"A third orgasm?" The most you've ever had with a man is two, and they've never both been as earth shattering as that one.
"Yes." He reaches on to the bed next to him and picks up a foil packet. "If you can take another one, I'll fuck you."
Your body is exhausted, but the thought of him fucking you with his massive length makes your head spin. Without another thought, you nod your head.
"Be a good girl, and get on your hands and knees."
Getting into position, you look over your shoulder to see he's wearing a condom. He picks up the bottle of lube, and coats two fingers. He takes his time massaging the lube into your needy entrance.
He positions himself behind you. Taking his length in his hand, he runs it through your wet folds a few times before he pushes in the tip. You feel the stretch immediately. Pushing your hips back, you push him in another few inches.
Your eyes roll back in your head as you take him inch by inch. Biting your bottom lip, you desperately try to hold back your moans. He has you sounding like a whore in heat, and he hasn't even properly fucked you yet.
"You're doing so good Princess." He rubs your side.
The moment he's stuffed you completely full, he takes a moment to let you relax. He must know you've never taken anyone his size before.
"Fuck." You moan.
"You feel so good." He moans.
"Please move, or I might go insane." He pulls back leaving just the tip inside, before he slams his hips back in. He doesn't start out slow and gentle. Steady and firm pace.
Each smack of his hips against your ass knocks you forward. Pushing your hips back, you meet each of his thrusts.
Dropping to your elbows your face is smashed against the comforter. You're practically drooling as he keeps thrusting into you over and over. His hand grips your hips, helping to keep you moving at a steady pace.
He's so massive, he's touching parts of you you didn't know could be reached.
"Hao—" you cry out.
"So good." He groans.
He starts moving at a quicker pace. Your body is exhausted and can't keep up— you let him do all the work, slamming into you over and over again.
Your head spins and he changes positions. He moves so he's sitting on his knees still snuggly inside you, as your back is plastered to his front as you sit on his thigh.
Neither of you move for a moment, he's giving you time to adjust to the new position. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying light pressure. The other dips between your legs, brushing your puffy clit.
You wince at the feeling of him playing with you. He pulls his hand away and lets out a laugh. He moves that hand to your breast. He takes his time toying with your perked nipple.
"Move for me, baby."
Lifting your hips you set a slow pace. You're too tired to move quickly. You bounce and roll your hips. He fluctuates, applying light pressure to your throat.
"Hao— I'm gonna." You cry.
"I'll cum with you." He whispers in your ear.
True to his word your third orgasm of the night pushes him over the edge with you. This orgasm is like nothing you've ever experienced before. There’s pressure that releases from you, that feels electric. Throwing your head back against his shoulder you cry out. Everything feels fuzzy and your whole body feels boneless.
Minghao slowly moves you off of him, laying you down on the bed, careful to avoid the wet spot you caused.
"Have you ever squirted before?" He asks as he removes the condom, tossing it into the bin.
You can't even open your eyes, you just let out a sigh. "No." You didn't even know you could do that.
"I need to clean you up, and change the bedding." He smiles, watching you in your dazed state.
"Are you kicking me out?" Your eyes slowly flutter open.
"Quite the opposite, I'm going to clean you up, and then we're gonna cuddle."
Your brows knit together. "Cuddle?"
"Yes, cuddle." He leaves the room and comes back with a warm cloth. He takes his time cleaning up the mess between your legs. He tries to be as gentle as possible, knowing that your abused core is overstimulated.
"Minghao, do you still wanna date me?" You curl up onto your side, watching him move around his room. You smile at the sight of him still being completely naked.
"That's a stupid question."
"No it's not." You pout.
"It's a stupid question, because obviously I still want to date you."
He moves towards the bed. You're exhausted but you know he needs to change the bedding. "Go take a shower and we'll talk about this later."
Pulling yourself out of bed, you make your way into the bathroom, where you see he's already started the shower. The hot water feels amazing on your sore muscles— you probably shouldn’t stay in the shower too long.
You grab the fluffy towel Minghao left for you, and take your time drying your body off.
Walking back into the room, you find the bed freshly made. Minghao is sitting under the covers with his back against the pillows. He's scrolling through his phone, killing time.
"Are you going to run away, or are you going to stay the night?" He asks raising his brow.
"If we date, I'm not going to be your booth baddie."
"Booth baddie?"
You place your knee on the bed. "Yeah, I'm not gonna stand on stage watching you dj, and fawn all over you." You start crawling across the bed.
"I wouldn’t ask you to do that."
"I'm not your groupie." You crawl on to his lap.
"That's fair." He smiles.
You lean in with your face right in front of his. "I think I like you Minghao."
He doesn't say anything, he leans in connecting his lips to yours for a searing kiss. He pulls back and smiles. "So this isn't just a one night stand."
pairing: xu minghao x f!reader
rating: R | minors do not interact! 18+ ONLY
warnings: best friends/coworkers to lovers, whole lot of yearning, angst, minghao is a stupid man, yn has moments of insecurity regarding her being plus size, SMUT: fingering, oral (f and m receiving), p in v protected sex, missionary, ankle kissing, thigh biting, slight hair pulling. doyoung makes a return appearance as a bartender, small bit of donghyuck x reader.
wc: 15.2k
synopsis: loosely based in part on a storyline that happens to Penelope Garcia in season 3 of Criminal Minds: Technical Analyst LN YN and FBI Agent Xu Minghao are known in the BAU as a dynamic duo. A duo full of reportable comments, inappropriate nicknames and so much warmth. Anyone with eyes can see that YN is in love with Minghao and it's likely that he's in love with her too. What happens when tensions finally bubble over? When someone else is introduced to the story?
*this fic is a part of the blockbusters collab hosted by @nerdycheol, @belovedgyu and @jakedustry | support the other authors of the collab here
listen while reading
It's another day in Virginia. The winter this year is biting and you're too happy to scurry inside the BAU office to keep yourself from freezing. Chan, the security guard who always had a smile on his face, wishes you a good morning as you flash your badge at him. As you're waiting for the elevator up to your office, you reminisce about your beginnings at the BAU. Once the hunted, you had been working as a hacker under an alias that eluded this very department years ago. You were untouchable, called the best for a reason. It wasn't until you had a falling out with a network partner that you were in the claws of the department you'd been playing tag with. You remember it clear as day; the flashing red and blues lighting up the walls of your apartment, the cold chill of the interrogation room, and him.
[flashback]
The only sound that could be heard in your apartment was the furious typing coming from your keyboard. The code you had meticulously been working on for the last month all of a sudden wasn't running properly.
"C'mon you rat bastard, where are you hiding," you mutter out. You chewed on your bottom lip, dedicated to find the one piece of syntax ruining what was bound to be a big payout for you.
A month ago, you'd been tagged to do another hit on some confidential FBI files. The network you worked for was made aware by an informant that there were case files being built against the network. Being the resident hacker within the network meant that this task was immediately handed to you. This wasn't your first go at hacking the Federal Bureau of Investigations and you certainly didn't think it was going to be your last. You loved playing tag with the CyberSec department in the Quantico office. Imagining the look of shock when the analysts in their cushy lil offices realize that files were corrupted or missing. For a bunch of highly paid, well-resourced government officials, jobs that involved the FBI felt like taking candy from a baby.
Your search continued, scouring through what felt like endless lines of code, until your phone rang. Taking a look at the Caller ID, a chill ran through your body.
It's an unlisted number. To the ordinary person, it would look like an unknown caller. But not to you. No, you knew this number by heart. You gingerly pressed the answer button.
"YN, a pleasure."
You found it weird that he was using your actual name given everyone in the network typically used an alias. You figured he was in a secure enough location, so you didn't pursue this line of thought any further.
"Jackson. What can I do for you? I'm working right now." Every ounce of you fought to keep your words unwavered. A small chuckle came from the other end of the line.
"Just wanted to check in. Make sure you're holding up your end of the bargain." This caught you off guard.
Jackson was a higher up in your network, always the one doling out your assignments, but never one to double check your work. You'd proven yourself to be irreplaceable in the last three years of working for the Caissa. Why was he asking about this now?
"In the three years I've been doing your work, when have you ever known me to not hold up my end of the deal?" You questioned, a slight edge in your voice.
Even with your "boss" on the line, there was a deadline to meet and your code was still not running properly. Your hand moved to press a button on your phone and you placed Jackson on speakerphone. As the search for the bug resumed, you explained to Jackson that what he wanted should be finished within the next two hours.
"Remind me again, what is it I'm paying you for?" In hindsight, this question should have been ringing the loudest bells in your head. Jackson had the tendency to be aloof and a bit forgetful given he worked with multiple people, but not ever to this degree. But the damn bug making your code not work took up all of your attention.
"What are you talking about Jackson, did you seriously forget that you tasked me to wipe the case files being built against the Caissa? What, did you forget to take your pills today old man?" Another laugh came. It's uneasy but of course you were too wrapped up in fixing the code to notice the difference.
"Jeez Rook, I'm just testing you."
"I think I've outgrown that nickname, don't you Jackson? Was this really all you called me for?" You were getting annoyed now. There was a crunch for this code to be finished and here was your boss actively wasting your time. Again in hindsight this should have tipped you off. There's a bit of noise from the other end of the line before Jackson responds.
"YN?"
"What is it, Jackson?"
"The Grandmaster sends his regards." The mention of the kingpin of your network made your back straighten. Before you could ask what the hell Jackson meant, the line died. Your monitor went next. There wasn't enough time for you to make sense of anything before you heard the sirens surrounding your apartment and your front door being busted open. Everything after this point happened in slow motion, you moved like molasses. Only a few things in your vision were in focus: the reds and blues of cop car lights shining on the poster covered walls of your apartment, the condensation ring from the iced coffee you'd been nursing, a trinket of your favorite animal shattered from the impact of your front door.
You didn't resist any of the officers taking you into their custody. Your mind was otherwise preoccupied. The second your door was cracked down, the puzzle pieces connected: Jackson and the network had cut you loose and turned you in. Racking your brain for any possible reason why, you come up with the conclusion that the feds were getting too close and they cut the newest recruit on the team.
Last one in, first one out.
The interrogation room was bone-chilling and reeked of the worst kind of drip coffee. Agent after agent came in, but your mind couldn't focus. Every time they talked to you it sounded like Charlie Brown's parents were speaking to you. Your entire world had come crashing down. The network that had protected you for so long, had all of a sudden delivered you right to the FBI's front door, the team that had spent the better part of a year trying to track you down.
The door to the interrogation room opened again and you were about to tell the next agent that they were going to waste their time because you weren't going to spill a word. But when you lifted your head, you see him and the air shifts. You feel the static neurons become charged with something you can't quite place.
[end of flashback]
Speak of the devil.
The ding of the elevator doors snaps you out of your recollection and there stands Xu Minghao. The guy, who for a lack of a better explanation, is your knight in shining armor. Minghao was the one that broke through your walls that day in the interrogation room. The one that turned you from hunted to hunter. Every other agent they'd sent in to question you weren't able to hammer away at the walls you'd built, but he did. He walked in, the definition of nonchalance and arrogance. Taking your walls apart brick by brick like it was nothing with cologne that enveloped the whole room and would linger. The same one currently wafting in your nose as he's waving you into the elevator.
"Good morning babygirl," he says, pearly-white teeth shining right into your heart. It has been five years since the day Minghao cut you a deal and your partnership with him and the FBI had started. Five years since he gave you a chance to turn your life around and not rot in prison. Five years since he started calling you that nickname. The nickname that never failed to dust a deep shade of pink across your cheeks.
"Morning, White Rabbit," you chirp out, adding the delicious milk candy to the list of nicknames you have for the profiler. This was your banter, everyone in the office knew it. Everyone in the office was also sick of it. A prime example comes in the form of Dr. Jeon Wonwoo, resident know-it-all. He constantly commented on your relationship; labeling it grossly inappropriate for the office and requesting that it be taken outside of work. Both of your responses to him matching as you stick your tongue out, blowing raspberries at him.
"What's on your mind pretty?" Minghao questions. You wave him off, telling him that you'd been thinking about the day that you first met.
"Was it love at first sight?" He teases. You give him a slight push and tell him to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The ride up to the office is silent, but it's comfortable. The kind of comfortable you can only get when you've built a relationship with someone. The elevator doors whoosh open signaling that your moment of peace is over and it was time to get to work. You start the short trek to your "cave of darkness", as the rest of the team calls it, but Minghao catches your wrist before you even make it another step.
"Here," he places a coffee cup in your hand, "Honey vanilla latte for the sweetest honey in my life."
There it is again. The blood rushes to your cheeks, covering it with a rosy haze. Minghao is still holding onto your wrist and you're painfully aware of everything happening right now. But you let yourself get lost in the feeling for a bit. Fantasizing that this is more than the usual nice banter between the two of you. That he got you a latte because he was thinking about you at the cafe you both frequent. That he knows your order because he learned it the first time the both of you had been to said cafe and not because you'd made him order it for you a billion times.
Wonwoo, who had been behind the both of you in the elevator, clears his throat to get through and the facade breaks. Minghao gives you a wink, then moves back to let him step between the two of you. Raising the warm coffee cup towards him, you bid Wonwoo goodbye and the two of you make your way down to your office. As you come down the hallway one of the other analysts, Maeve, falls in step with you. Her strong gourmand scent hits you before her greeting does. The three of you talk about recent case loads and what you had been up to the past weekend. She casually jokes that the intense amount of snow should be keeping the streets crime free, but the files coming across the desks say otherwise. Synced laughs of agreement come from you and him. Minghao replies that there isn't enough coffee in the world. Without any real thought, you say,
"Thank God for Minghao. I don't know what I'd do if he didn't get me this coffee." She coos at you, agreeing that it was really nice of him do so, but then she makes a comment that stutters your thoughts.
"God I wish I had a boyfriend that worked with me so I could get personally delivered coffee. You two are so cute together."
"Oh, no-" You begin to stop her.
"It's not like that." You pretend the emphasis Minghao places on the last word doesn't sting.
"We're not-"
The two of you stumble over each other to tell your coworker that you aren't dating. When she hears this, there's a look of surprise on her face, but she doesn't say anything else. She's too busy watching the two of you staring at each other, trying to find the hidden conversation in raised brows. You'd never been more thankful in your life to be right in front of your office door. Minghao quietly excuses himself and walks towards the bullpen. While your coworker chats you up, you're still staring at the back of Minghao, noticing how he rubbed the back of his neck as he walked away from the two of you.
"Helloooo? Earth to YN!" Your focus shifts to her hand waving in front of your face. Apologizing to her, you ask her to repeat herself. She talks about needing help on figuring out how to run a code to aggregate the encrypted files your team has been getting with the caseload. You relax, this is an easy task, you could write code in your sleep, this was something that won't distract you. Asking her for more metrics, your eyes light up at the chance to talk about coding — the only thing that has kept you alive all these years. As you're going over proper formatting syntax, she makes a silly joke that for some reason really just hit you, so you find yourself doubled over in laughter.
What you don't notice is that your coworker makes sudden eye contact with Minghao, who perks up and whips his head towards your direction at the sound of your laughter. You couldn't see it, but his gaze brims with adoration. The mere sound of your laugh, infectious, getting the corners of his lips to tug up. Maeve gives Minghao a questioning smirk, he then stutters and forces himself back into the conversation with Wonwoo. She continues your conversation by asking how to run newly written code without ruining encrypted files.
You lift yourself back up and continue your explanation of performing test runs on old files to Maeve. As you do so, you feel the air change and something in you tells your brain to look beyond Maeve. Cocking your head to the side, you see that Minghao has Wonwoo in a headlock. You try to hide your smile, but fail as Maeve traces your sight line. She shakes her head and jokes that it's really hard to believe that the two of you aren't together, with the way you steal glances like lovesick puppies. Suddenly, Minghao looks up and you immediately move your head back to its original position, not wanting him to catch you staring. Maeve watches this exchange with the biggest smirk on her face. Thanking you for the advice on writing code, she walks away to her office muttering something that you couldn't make out.
As you settle into your office, a sigh pushes through your entire body. Minghao's comment and gesture sticks with you for the rest of the day, the drink actually making it all the way home with you. Spending what others would diagnose as an "unhealthy" amount of time staring at the coffee cup, trying to will the fantasy in your head to life. So many things are swimming around in your mind right now. As you get lost in writing code, Minghao's question of love at first sight is ringing in your ears. You were telling the truth, you found him incredibly annoying at first. Your first month he did nothing but gloat that he was the one to bring you in; that if it wasn't for him there wouldn't be progress on the Caissa file. But something changed in the years of you working together and you're left remembering when exactly it was that he completely broke your heart open for him.
[flashback]
It's your first winter in Virginia. Adjusting to the non-criminal life has been easier than you expected. Who knew you could breathe easier when not working for the digital underworld and not having to look over your shoulder all the time. Regular civilian life wasn't something you steadily had access to in your formative years and you're finding yourself mourning that younger version of you.
Idyllic. Not hard. A version of you that didn't have to put up walls yet.
A particularly nasty case made its way to the top of your team's list, leaving you all to work past normal hours. You'd moved out of your office into the bullpen to make sharing information easier. The office is fairly silent, the only symphony playing is the shuffle of papers and the scuffle of your team walking around. You'd been knee deep in assembling a list of victim profiles to help look for the unsub's MO. You fired off a couple lines of code that you think will help you narrow something down, only to be hit with a big red flashing "ERROR". You slam your laptop down and exhale in frustration, the sound of it drawing everyone's eyes on you. You feel his eyes before you could see them. Flashing everyone a quick smile of apology, you excuse yourself to take a lap around and get a breather.
You stop by your office to grab your water bottle and on your way out you see Minghao. He smirks when he makes eye contact and you immediately brace yourself for whatever smart ass comment he had waiting for you.
"Taking a break already? Wouldn't have pegged you as the quitting type," he jokes. You mockingly laugh back and roll your eyes. The two of you were a duo that no one ever expected. You'd find this out much later, but there were bets going around the office for how long Minghao would last before you ripped his head off. You and Minghao got the last laugh as the two of you gelled together after you dished his smugness back to him. Fairly soon after, you became the insufferable duo that everyone was familiar with.
The two of you finish a lap around the office in complete sync, quietly returning to the makeshift workstation that was set up in the bullpen. You stretch your neck out before sitting back down to read over the case files in the hopes that you could pinpoint parameters that would get your team closer to solving this case. Line after line swims through your brain and nothing seems to stick. It's like suddenly all the ridges in your brain have disappeared and the receptors have melted.
Behind you, you hear someone yell that they're going on a coffee run, then you feel a tap on your elbow. Turning your head, you see Minghao with a questioning look in his eye. Without a word, you knew exactly what he was asking.
Want a coffee?
You immediately shake your head no, not wanting to deal with the effects of caffeine later. He gives you a curt nod and calls out to the person leaving the office to wait for him. He brushes behind you and you catch a whiff of him — sandalwood and something smoky — he smells like comfort. The scent of him lingers around you like an unspoken message from him:
Be back soon.
For the hundredth time, you turn your eyes back to the files hoping that this time you wouldn't come up empty. Taking a breath, you repeat a silent prayer in your head, one that wishes you are able to find anything that could help. Three folders of files later, you feel Minghao sliding into the seat next to you. You don't have to look up from the mountain of paper to know it's him. You just do.
As you're flipping over to the next page, you sense something warm near your left hand. You move your hand to find the source of heat and see that Minghao has placed a cup next to you. The logo of the coffee shop from down the street adorns the cupsleeve. Acknowledging him with a nod, you wrap both your hands around the cup and bring it in front of you.
I didn't ask for this. You say with a raise of your brow.
I know. He shrugs in response.
Drawing the cup to your mouth, the sweet scent of honey and vanilla fills the space around you as you blow on it. You were expecting the strong bitter aroma of coffee to invade your nose so when you smell the indicators of your regular order, your head whips back to him. You're staring at him with delighted surprise in your eyes. He squeezes your shoulder and shoots the warmest smile when he meets your gaze. You thank him by taking a drink, contently sighing at the sweet taste on your tongue.
When you open your eyes, you find a different pair of eyes staring at you.
"Can I help you, Dr. Jeon?"
"Just observing," he says, his eyes flitting between you and the man beside you.
"Find anything worth sharing?" You muse, tucking your chin on top of your hands.
While flipping through a case file, Wonwoo shakes his head no. You don't believe him for a second, which you make known by giving him a scrutinizing look. But you don't press him any further, opting to return to your work instead.
Minghao suddenly gets up and walks over to the board, presumably to pin something he found.
"He's never brought anyone coffee," Wonwoo says, breaking your concentration. You look at the doctorate in front of you with a deadpan look. One that prompts him to elaborate his point.
He leans forward and in a quiet tone explains that in the time that the two of them have worked together, he's never seen Minghao willingly get anyone coffee. Usually opting to joke that whoever asks has legs and can get the drink themselves. He also guessed by the look of your first sip that Minghao didn't just grab you any coffee, he purposefully got your specific coffee order.
There's a feeling in your stomach you can't place when you hear this. As Wonwoo drones on, you find your gaze naturally moving to where Minghao is. You can only see his back, but you can tell he's concentrating on something from the way his head is slightly tilted.
"And then there's the twin telepathy thing," Wonwoo quips. This breaks your stare.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh c'mon! The two of you just had a full blown conversation without uttering a single word."
You scoff and wave him off, telling him that it doesn't mean anything. Defending your friendship, you deflect and mock the young doctor. He returns your scoff with his own and leans back in his chair.
To anyone that asked, you would always deny it. You and Minghao, were friends, nothing else. But after Wonwoo's line of questioning, you wonder if he's maybe just named the intense feelings that you've been unable to.
Returning your gaze to Minghao, your head is swimming with the thoughts Wonwoo's seemingly planted. He turns to call out for Wonwoo to join him. Your eyes meet Minghao's and he gives you a smile that makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. It's a smile laced with a check in. Like somehow he knows you might not be all there.
And suddenly you realize it.
Fuck.
You like Xu Minghao.
[end of flashback]
A soft knock breaks your mindless (but correct) code writing and you smile as you see Minghao waving through the window. You push the memory from three years ago to the deep recesses of your mind. He pushes the door slightly open and pokes his head in, weary smile following. You know what this look means; it's wheels up for the team, time for them to fly somewhere to solve a case, time for him to leave.
"Hey, I'm heading out. I'll see you soon, yeah?"
"Safe flight, call me for any expert information pulling," you joke as he pulls off from your door.
"There isn't anyone else I would want to call babygirl," he calls out as he jogs to catch up with the rest of the team flying out. You smile watching him bounce away.
Unfortunately for you, that moment was the last time you would physically see Minghao for the next week. This was the norm for the two of you. You hardly ever joined in the field, and to be completely honest you preferred it that way. With your history, you decided (along with some urging from your boss) that it was probably better that you stayed behind for cases.
You do get to talk to him mid-week when an important piece of information comes across your desk.
"Tell me something I wanna hear," he exhales. You can hear the exhaustion and frustration in his voice.
"Anyone ever tell you, you have a great ass? Cause you do," you tease, trying to lighten the mood. Hearing him smile from the other side of the line makes you feel better.
"Tell me something I don't know pretty girl," he jokes back. You boo him, whining that he always spoils your fun.
"Don't make me spank you."
"Mmm, don't tempt me with a good time Agent," you say in a lower tone, feigning seduction. With a click of his tongue, he tells you to quit playing around. You sigh and acquiesce him, sharing that the unsub and his victims had a shared history. Grimacing as you shakily recount horrifying details, you wrap up your information dump with a sigh and a promise that this information would be sent over asap.
"Look up the words hot and magnificent in that magic box of yours and tell me what comes up," you hear the smirk and pride on Minghao's face loud and clear. Luck was on your side today as no one could see the rouge tint splayed across your face and on the tips of your ears.
"Would ya look at that? A picture of me popped up." You replied, emphasizing the p in the last word with a popping sound. Inside you are fighting every nerve in your body.
"You are the love of my life, gorgeous! Good job, see ya when we're back." The click of the line rescues you from having to repsond. Your hand is still wrapped around the receiver as you let out a breath. An involuntary groan comes from you. It's the kind of groan you let out when you know you're absolutely smitten and can't do jack all about it. The silence in your office cloaks you in your own feelings, the next words that come out of your mouth barely break the sound barrier.
"I wish you meant that, Hao."
It wasn't till Friday afternoon that the rest of the team was flying in after wrapping up another horrifying but solved case.
The clock ticks a quarter till five and you shoot a text to your cat-eyed partner in crime, asking him if he needed a round (or more) once he landed. An immediate ping returns with a resounding yes and that he'd head straight to Rummo's. Wrapping up a report, you lock up and head to the elevator to meet with Minghao. The ride down takes longer than you want it to, but the doors finally ding open and you're basically skipping out the exit.
"Have a good weekend YN," Chan smiles at you as he holds the door open for you.
"Thanks Channie! I'll see ya Monday!"
"Rummo's tonight? I didn't see the team come in this morning." You nod back.
"Is tonight the night?" He asks with expectant eyes. While everyone in the office basically knew about the budding relationship between you and Minghao, Chan was the only one who ever said anything to you about it. He was also the only one who knew about how much you truly longed for Minghao. It wasn't like you paraded around declaring your love for the profiler, but anyone who looked hard enough could see it. You cared about Minghao in the way that you didn't about anyone else. Sometimes more than yourself. You shoot Chan a look with a hopeful gleam and he responds back with a thumbs up. The week spent in the office alone (along with a phone call from your mother regarding your love life) had forced you to evaluate your relationship with Minghao. Years of noticing the small things that make him tick. Simply put, after years of yearning for the man who broke you down with a whiff of his cologne, you came to the conclusion that you couldn't bear to wait any longer. You needed him to know how you felt and more importantly how he made you feel.
You send a quick text to him that you'd be at your favorite bar in less than ten minutes. As you're walking past storefronts you check your reflection in the glass. No biggie, you're just confessing your feelings to the most important person in your life and your hair is a tangled mess and the mascara on your eyelashes smudged from the strain of staring at a computer all day. You do your best to smooth down the frizz of your hair and you pray to whatever god above that you can fix yourself up before Minghao spots you.
It's half past five by the time you get to Rummo's and it seems like every other office worker in the vicinity had the same idea because your favorite local bar is packed with people in suits. You thank your lucky stars and make a beeline for the bathroom to fix yourself up. You assess the damage as you take a look at the mirror and you wish you hadn't.
Your top fits a little funny because of how blessed you are in the chest department. Your trousers suddenly feel a bit tight and you tune into how the button seems to dig into your stomach. You try to move your clothes around a bit to make it look more flattering against your shape and notice that the seams of your pants have left imprints on your hips. The movement (and your awful anxiety) have made the tiny bathroom even tinier and you feel like the temperature inside has gotten warmer.
Taking a shallow breath you move on to take a look at your hair but before you can do anything about it, a knock on the door alerts you to someone who had been waiting on you. You push the door open to the bathroom and apologize to the person on the other side and look for Minghao. Your confidence is lower than when you walked in, but you were still determined to tell him how you felt tonight.
The smell of his cologne, hidden behind copious amounts of whiskey, hits you before you even lay your eyes on him. You square your shoulders back, plaster on a smile and clap him on the back when you approach. He turns to you, a tinge of pink dotted across his cheeks and eyes in the shape of crescent moons. A quick glance at the three empty glasses next to him tells you all you need to know — this case was horrific and he needed a break from reality. You don't think you'll get to tell him anything tonight.
"There's my babygirl," he swoons excitedly reaching out to you. Your heart leaps out of your chest and it aches. It kills you to not focus on the inflection behind the "my".
"Hey Hao— Whoa," you lean forward as he almost falls out of the bar stool. A giggle comes spilling out of him when he wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into your shoulder. You help him sit back upright and he scrambles to remove his jacket from the seat next to him, ushering you to sit next to him. Doyoung, the usual barback who tends to your crew, places a drink in front of you. Thanking him with a nod, you down the drink to match Hao's level of drunkenness. The night is filled with him drunkenly egging you on to drink more and you making sure that he's also drinking water so he doesn't absolutely perish the next day.
Suddenly Minghao, who had previously been slumped over the bar, sits straight up and grabs your face. He brings it close to his and you genuinely are unable to tell if you're currently hallucinating. He pores over your face with a scrutinizing look in his eyes. His gaze lands on your lips and stays for a while. Longer than what is appropriate between two best friends. Two coworkers. Your lips are inches away and the alcohol you've consumed silences the alarm bells going off in your head. You hadn't expected this at all, the second you had seen him downing drinks you quickly pivoted away from the original intention you had tonight. You let your eyes flutter shut and enjoy the warmth of his hands, you also pick up on the scent of whiskey and mint on his breath. There's a ringing in your ears and it isn't the alarm bells of your barely functioning brain. No, it's the ringing that happens when the one person who turns your world upside down is about to kiss you. But the moment never comes.
You open your eyes and find him studying your face. Irises wide (probably from the whiskey) and mapping spots on your face.
"Hao?" You ask as you place one of your hands on his, you're hyper aware of the small jolt of electricity that happens on your cheek when your hands touch.
"Mmm?" He hums, absolute glee hidden behind the smile on his face. You tap the hand on your left cheek, asking him if there was something he needed to tell you.
"You remind me of her." The shape of his eyes still crescent moons, his cheeks even pinker. From the alcohol or the confession you weren't able to tell.
"Hmm?" You say giggly.
"The girl I'm in love with— you remind me of her." He says like he isn't absolutely shattering your entire world right now.
"Oh." You could only respond in a monosyllabic manner, the entire situation quickly sobering you from your fantasy. You grab his hands and gingerly fold them into his lap.
He giggles to himself at your short response. Your mind is spinning and the three heavy-handed drinks Doyoung poured you certainly weren't helping. It isn't till Minghao waves his hand in your face that you realize he'd asked you a question. You apologize and he asks you again what you think. It felt like an impossible question to answer; your heart was absolutely shattered but as his best friend you needed to at least seem supportive.
"Whoever she is, she's a lucky girl," you respond, the fake smile on your face hurting your jaw.
"You think so?" He asks, blissfully drunk and unaware.
You nod, trying to will the tears in your eyes to not spill. Your barback slides the two of you tall glasses of water and your tab. The time had passed by and the time on the receipt told you that the bar was nearing closing time. Downing your water like a camel, you gear up to play another heartbreaking game of pretend. Quickly you get Minghao to drink his water, slide some cash to Doyoung, and move the drunk cat that is your coworker outside the bar to wait for a cab. Puffs of your breath can be seen against the night sky and the two of you stand close to each other to get some warmth. It doesn't prove to be very effective as shivers run through your body. Perceptive as he is, Minghao wordlessly shrugs his black coat off and threads your arms through the sleeves.
"Hao, what are you doing? Take your coat back. It's below freezing," you say through chattering teeth.
You roll your eyes and start to remove the very warm coat off you. The unmistakable shake of his earrings rings through the air as he hushes you and forces the coat around you again, this time closing the buttons to make sure you stay put. A frustrated sigh comes from you, made evident by the puff of steam flowing in front of you. You silently thank him with a swift nod of your head. Some minutes tick by and suddenly you feel a cold hand slip into the pocket and close over your balled up fist.
A hollow ache is forming in your chest. Your hand instinctively unfurls and the second it does, Minghao threads his fingers through yours. Wetness pools around the rim of your eyes when you feel the shape of figure eights rubbing against the back of your hand. Silently, you thank the cold weather as you sniffle the tears back. If he noticed what was wrong, you could immediately blame it on the chill. You stare up at the sky, hoping to find something that could distract you from your wailing thoughts. But you're met with nothing, not a single star in sight. Not a constellation in the sky to use as small talk. So you stand and let your heart ache, because this might be the last time you have a moment like this with him.
You're also trying to make sure Minghao doesn't crumple to the floor. He whines telling you that he's tired of standing and he clings onto you like a koala, telling you that you felt like a plush radiator. You blow off his comment and wave down the bright yellow cab who had just dropped off someone down the street. With as much strength you can muster you push Minghao into the cab and give directions to the driver to his place.
"Wait, you're not coming with me?" He pouts, hanging his head out the window.
You hated yourself for how much you wanted to still kiss him. Shaking your head no, you tell him you'll see him later. He pouts some more and even whines a little, making your heart swell and ache simultaneously. You tilt his head up a little and drill into him that he needs to drink water when he gets home. He gives you a little salute and slumps his back in his seat. The cab begins to drive away and you wave even though you know Minghao can't see you. Suddenly he sticks his head out the window again and yells at you.
"Don't tell the girl at work that I'm in love with her!" And just like that Xu Minghao shatters your heart for the second time.
Saturdays are reserved for shitty movies and wasting away at your place. In the last year, Minghao has been a welcome addition to your long standing tradition, but you wake up today (still slightly hungover) remembering every single thing that happened last night and can't bear the thought of seeing him. You send him a text that you aren't feeling well and need to just sleep the nausea and hangover away. It wasn't completely a lie, you genuinely did have a hangover and you felt sick to your stomach at his confession. The confession that broke your heart and had you questioning your own self worth. Who were you kidding, no guy like Minghao could have ever been into you. He could have his pick of girls, so of course he was pining for someone else. You mostly felt so dumb that you even held the fantasy for so long. Minghao doesn't reply back right away, you assume he's probably still asleep and decide that a small nap might help you feel better.
You wake up to the sound of knocking at your front door and grumble, throwing the blanket over your head, hoping that whoever is at your door will just go away. You're not expecting any guests so you definitely were not getting up for anyone right now. Unfortunately, your attempt to ignore them does not work as the knocking gets louder and more aggressive. Throwing your blanket around you, you groan and stomp to your front door. The knocking keeps going and you finally swing your door open, ready to yell at whoever is fucking disturbing your peace right now.
"Jesus Christ! What do you wa— Minghao? What the fuck?!"
"Me what the fuck? I think I should be saying that to you. It's Saturday, our day remember?" You wince at the decibel he's at. Shooting him a glare with the force of a thousand daggers, you whip out your phone and show him the text of you canceling.
He sticks his tongue out and pushes into your apartment, blabbering about how you couldn't let a couple drinks interrupt the tradition. A trail of his things follow behind him as he makes himself completely at home on your couch. He spots his coat from the night before and jokes that he wondered where it ended up. Your nose scrunches up in annoyance and you can't find it within yourself to pretend to be fine with him being here. One by one you pick up his things and launch them at him, each landing getting a complaint. You coldly tell him to take his things and leave.
"Haha very funny babygirl. C'mon," he pats the spot next to him, "It's movie time. I'm thinking comedy because you're being so gru-"
"Minghao. I'm not kidding. I don't feel good, I'm going back to bed, please take your shit and go home."
You don't even wait for a response, you quickly spin on your heel and head back to your room. You don't even have it in you to close the door on him, you just slip back into your bed. Burying yourself under the covers, the tears in your eyes are hot and you try to blink them back. It isn't until you hear the muffled click of your front door that you let the tears stream down your face, effectively dehydrating you even more.
This year's winter was giving unsubs harsh brutality a run for their money. In the five years since you've lived in Virginia, you'd never felt such an arctic winter. Roads constantly slick with ice, the chill in the air absolutely biting. The only thing rivaling the intensity of this winter was how hard your head had been thinking about your relationship with Minghao. After what you thought would have been the moment, you decided that you couldn't wait forever anymore. You couldn't waste time on the cat-eyed profiler anymore. Knowing he'd had ample time in the years of you working together to say something. The years filled of stolen glances during team debriefs, of flirty comments that would gave HR a heart attack, of him using a nickname reserved only for you. Even on that night, he had the entire night to say something, anything. Instead you were met with a confession that crushed any hope you had as well as your self esteem.
This was the third week of you silently mending the heart he'd unknowingly broken. You could absolutely feel the difference in the interactions, but the profiler for all his ability to read humans, was none the wiser. The list of your names for him continued, but never with the same vibrancy you'd always envelope them in. You were facing a silent fight, the only person who only noticed your off kilter demeanor, was Chan. The first week of your moping he initially let you be, only ever giving a skeptic raise of his brow when you'd brush off his comments regarding your well-being. By the second week, he knew you'd been lying and figuratively backed you into a corner.
You had been drowning in case files and your eyes were starting to dry out. You make your way out of your office and to the bathroom on your floor, but you sharply make a right towards the elevator when you see Minghao heading in the same direction. The door is about to close and you call out to the group to hold the doors open for you. In your absolute panic, you don't realize how loud your voice was. What you also miss when you push yourself into the elevator is Minghao frantically searching for you across the office when he heard you.
You make your way to the back of the elevator and pinch the bridge of your nose as you lean your head back against the wall. Your eyes are closed for the entire ride and it's only when the automated voice of the elevator bell announces the floor, that you realized you took the elevator all the way down to the main lobby. Remembering what your actual purpose of leaving the office was, you make a beeline for the bathroom. You weren't explicitly avoiding Chan, but you knew you couldn't hold out much longer until you cracked under his constant questions.
On your way out from the restroom, you hear a sharp whistle come from behind. Whipping your head around, you see Chan waving you over. Timidly you walk over. You know that he's going to ask what's up with you, so you mentally prepare your responses on your way to him. Sure enough his first question after greeting each other is why you aren't your normal bubbly self. You lie and say that you haven't been feeling well, which he immediately clocks, urging you to not lie to him.
"Come on sweetheart. I haven't seen the two of you walk in together in weeks, almost a month. And if I'm noticing it, it's only a matter of time before everyone else in the office notices it too."
You say nothing and just look at him with pleading eyes, trying to communicate that you don't really feel like talking about this. But of course he doesn't see it or he adamantly ignores it because he presses you even further. Arguing that he definitely knows something is wrong because he hasn't heard a complaint from Dr. Jeon about the out of line comments that are always coming from the two of you.
"Seriously seeing his face scrunch up at the two of you is the only real bit of entertainment I get around here. So spill it sweetheart, what the heck happened at Rummo's?"
You don't know if it's his persistence, the threat that your multi-doctorate coworker would eventually put the pieces together, or the idea that you were tired of holding everything in, but you give in and run down the details of that heartbreaking Friday night. You don't even notice that you're speaking in hushed tones until Chan leans in closer and asks you to repeat certain parts of the story. As you move along the details, you notice his shoulders visibly lower, like he's physically taking the weight of your pain. When you finish, you're full on silently crying and the first thing he does is fish a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. The whimsical dinosaur print makes you giggle and he tells you that it belongs to his kid. You look at him incredulously, you were not prepared for this lore drop about your favored security guard.
"You have a kid?!"
"You're not the only one with secrets around here," he says with a wink.
You hit him in the arm and beg him to show you pictures. Further prodding him about the fact that he has a kid, leading into the fact that he has a whole family that you didn't know about. He pulls out his wallet and shows you several polaroids of the sweetest little girl. She is the spitting image of him, even in her young age she smiles just as big as her dad. While you're leafing through the pictures, Chan starts to talk about your situation. He comforts you, assuring that your reaction to the whole confession was normal. That the ache you feel is what everyone would feel and comes with the territory. He starts the next sentence, but pauses, chewing on his bottom lip.
"I can tell you're trying to fit a sentence together, what is it Chan?"
"I'm just not 100% convinced…" Your brows knit together in confusion. You stay quiet to signal him to continue his thought. He then asks if you're sure of what he said to you the night at the bar.
"I mean I don't think I'll ever forget him breaking my heart like that," you say solemnly.
"Look sweetheart, I'm not saying I know anything about how he really feels…"
"But?"
"But I've seen the way you two look at each other. More importantly I've seen the way he looks at you. The way he looks at you isn't the way you look at someone who's just a friend."
"How does he look at me then? If you don't think he looks at me like a friend, then how?" You arms are crossed as you scrutinize him with your eyes.
Chan sighs and takes the pile of polaroids from your hands. You whine in protest. He goes through them one by one, seemingly looking for something specific. He finally lands on the polaroid he's looking for and takes a big pause. You feel him take your hand and he places it face down on your palm. Flipping it over, your heart aches. It's a candid family picture; Chan's wife is cooing at their daughter, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and Chan is off to the side smiling wide. At first glance you'd think he's smiling at his daughter, but at a closer look you can see that the smile isn't for his kid, it's for his wife. He is looking at her with so much love, if he was a cartoon there would pink and red hearts in his eyes.
"That's how he looks at you. The way I look at my wife. You told me what he said that night, I don't know. I just don't believe it."
You let out a huff of disapproval and he throws his hands up in defense, offering that these were only his thoughts. Your shoulders slump back down and you squeeze the bridge of your nose. Chan offers a comforting rub of your shoulder and suggests that maybe it would be good for you to get out of the office for a bit, or at the very least finding a quiet place to let your thoughts run wild so you can come back and focus on your work.
Deciding that the thing you needed to help you clear your head was a warm cup of coffee, you brave the flurry of snow and take a quick walk to your usual cafe, a ten minute walk from the office. As you're wrapping a scarf around yourself, a gust of wind knocks the fabric out of your hand and straight into the face of a person who was heading into same cafe.
"I am so sorry!" You call out, rushing over to the being whose face was currently trapped in your bright yellow scarf.
A muffled laugh comes from behind your scarf, a leather gloved hand bunches it up to pull it away, and what's revealed is the face of an absolutely breathtaking man. His skin glowing like he'd been kissed by the sun, even in this dreary winter. You notice the moles that decorate his golden skin, like stars had placed themselves there. Eyes the color of coal but the coal that still feels warm even after the fire stopped burning. He flashes a smile at you, the kind that that radiates heat in your stomach, one that you're sure could melt all the snow fluttering around you.
"It's alright, honestly it's my fault I walked into your scarf," he chuckles, folding up your scarf, handing it back to you.
He then opens the door to the cafe, gesturing inside. You basically float inside, the flutters in your tummy carrying you in. You walk up to the counter and order your usual — honey vanilla latte. There's something about this drink that just feels like the warmest and most comforting hug. As you pull out your card to pay, you hear someone behind you request a red eye added to that order. The speed at which you whip your head is probably faster than lightning. Ready to lay into the person who thought they could sneak in on your coffee order, you take a breath, but nothing comes out when you realize it's the guy who got a face full of your scarf earlier.
"Oh, it's just you," you say meekly.
"Just me? Ouch, I haven't even given you my name yet," he teases. You feel warmth grace the tips of your ears and cheeks. Chuckling at you, he reaches into his pocket and hands the barista behind you a ten dollar bill. Your eyes go wide, indicating a protest at his action. He shrugs and walks to an empty table, he looks up at you then shifts his gaze to the seat in front of him. After an internal conflict, you figure that a conversation with the cute stranger who just paid for your coffee wouldn't hurt. Thanking him for the coffee, he shrugs and leans back in his seat. He replies that its not a big deal and the two of you begin to talk as you wait for your coffee to be ready.
You learn his name is Donghyuck but most of his friends call him Hyuck. He moved to Virginia from California a couple months ago after picking a random spot on the map. He's a piano teacher to the children in his neighborhood. You jokingly ask if he would extend lessons to adults and he jokes back that you would be the only person he'd consider doing it for. Before you can reply, the barista calls out that your drinks are ready. Beating him to the punch, you pick up both of your drinks and take it back to the table.
Sliding his drink toward him, you circle back to him teaching piano lessons. Your hands touch when he wraps his hand around the cup and it lingers for just a moment. At a simple glance, no one would have noticed it. You do and you fight the smile that begs to come out. Luckily for you, the warm cup of coffee in your hands was a great way to cover it up. You take a small sip and feel yourself melt into the drink.
"Is your drink as sweet as you are?" He says as you put the cup down. It takes everything in you to not choke on the hot liquid. Cheesy lines like this don't typically work on you, but there's something about Donghyuck that just feels true and intentional. After years of pining over someone else, why not allow yourself to be chosen first? Chosen boldly?
As you're about to return the flirty comment, your phone pings. Shooting him an apologetic look, you flip your phone open to see that you've gotten a text from an analyst on your team asking where you were. You looked at the time and realized that you'd been gone for three quarters of an hour.
"Shoot, I'm sorry I have to go back to work," you say, shoving your arms through your coat. Scooting out of your chair you stand up and hurriedly rush towards the door.
"Hold on," he calls out after you. Turning around you notice that he has your scarf in his hand. You reach out your hand to accept it, but instead of handing it to you, he unravels the golden fabric. He wraps the scarf around you and once it's fixed to his liking, he steps back with a smile.
"Perfect."
Your eyes fall to the floor and you feel the prick of heat warming the tips of your ears. He slips something into your hand and you barely catch what he says, too distracted by the gesture. You know it was a question so you nod your head and promptly head out the door. It's not until you're halfway back to the building that you realize he gave you a coffee sleeve with his number written on it. Shaking your head, you laugh to yourself and slide the sleeve into your purse.
You return to the office in an absolute daze. Your steps feel lighter and so does your chest. The ache of Minghao's wreckage still sings, but the volume is currently softened. There's a smile hiding in your cheeks, you zip past security so you can calm yourself down in your office.
"Good morning!" The profiler chirps, coffee in hand.
"Morning." You push past, head down trying to avoid eye contact.
"Hold it," he stops you before you can get too far, "Ease off the gas there Zug."
You freeze.
You hadn't heard that name in years. Five to be exact. And he was the last one to call you that.
The nickname was a reference to your alias when you worked with the Caissa network. The network itself was named after the Greek dryad of chess and every network player had some kind of chess term as an alias. Yours was "Zugzwang" — a term to describe when a player is put at a disadvantage by having to make a move. Appropriate because when you trapped someone into your game any move they made was a losing one. When you were at odds with the government, they fell for the trap every time. But now, because of Minghao, you'd been using your evil genius for good.
"Every day."
"Every day what?"
"Every day I say good morning . Every day you say, 'it is now that I've seen you' or another quirky comment that would make Dr. Jeon turn the color of your sparkle pen. Where have you been?"
Your eyes form into lines as you scrutinize him. Pretending to straightening the ID badge affixed to his shirt pocket, you kiss your teeth with a click. He continues on talking about how he's noticed that you've been passing off delivering case reports and sitting out of team meetings.
"You profilers and your behavioral analysis. You ever take a break?" Inside you're screaming. Now he has the sense to finally notice the difference?!
"If I took a break, who'd catch all the bad guys? 'Fess up pretty."
You roll your eyes and land a soft smack on his shoulder.
"Fine. I met a guy," you admit, a dreamy smile breaking out of the corners of your lips.
For a second there is a look of shock displayed on Minghao's face. He quickly fixes his face, but you definitely notice. You always noticed the small changes, even when you tried not to. You try not to think too much of it as he digs you for more details. You recap the interaction from this morning. Spilling small details about Donghyuck in a dreamy daze. Not forgetting to comment on how handsome and hot you think he is. Twice. There's a beat of silence, a look of pondering etched across his face, before he nods to himself.
"Alright, yeah that happens." He gives you a pat on the shoulder and starts to walk to his office, but you don't miss the purse of his lips.
"Not to me it doesn't." He stops and turns around.
"Come again?"
"Look Hao, let's not kid ourselves. I'm not the kind of girl who turns heads when she walks into a room—"
"Babygirl—"
"No. It's okay. I do well enough on my own. I'm a big girl, literally. I can pull, it just isn't always instantly, y'know? I gotta get them to look past the space I take up first." He hesitates to nod. Another small moment of quiet, the effort of piecing together his next sentence apparent in the crease of his brows. Before he can say anything you beat him to breaking the silence.
"I mean, what do you think Hao?"
"I'd say trust your gut princess. If the guy feels too good to be true, he probably is. Best to move on yeah?"
"Well—
Before you can answer, Hyeri the case liaison walks in, arms chock full of files.
"Team brief now. It's bad."
"Clearly."
The two of you follow her into the conference room, something indescribable weighs heavy on your shoulders.
The team debrief makes you feel nauseous. And it's not because of the bloody gruesome details of the latest unsub that Hyeri had briefed the team on. Minghao's words keep ringing in your ear. The rest of the team made their way out to the Florida site and here you were in your office replaying the peculiar conversation the two of you had. You're trying to make sense of his reactions but you're unable to get very far. To ease your mind, you turn to work and get to compiling and cross-referencing the victim list that the team had drawn up with the information the local police department had just sent over.
Knee deep in a list of mugshots, your office phone trills to break your concentration.
"You know who you've reached. Speak," your tone monotonous as you try to continue your focus on your job. Minghao is on the other end asking for an update. You frown at his voice, something that in the past rarely happened. But his comment, along with everything else that transpired between the two of you, were creeping under your skin. The reaction he had to Donghyuck was off and it was beginning to irritate you. Why did he care so much about you meeting a guy, much less a dreamy one like Hyuck? Shouldn't he be whisking away the girl he's supposedly in love with? As he continues to feed you more information, you cut him off telling him you've identified the victims and a locale parameter that the unsub is using as their hunting ground.
"Damn woman, you blow my mind." He whistles, the tone of his voice reading impressed at how fast you were able to narrow things down.
"Yeah, I'm efficient. Gotta go" You quip, not wanting to keep this conversation any longer than it needs to be.
"Whoa, whoa, that's the second time today. No fiery comment? No 'I'll show you what else I can blow'.
"Not today, Minghao." You sigh, rolling your eyes.
"Full government? What's going on?" He never called you by your full name either.
"I'm gonna tell the hot coffee shop guy no. I'm taking your advice, you were right he's probably too good to be true."
"Oh.. Um.. Well that was definitely a smart move." Adds insult to injury by saying there was probably, definitely something wrong with him. Fire starts to run through your veins.
"Huh. Guess that's why they pay you the big bucks." You snort under you breath.
"Come again?" The defensiveness in his voice ignites the fire inside you to roar.
"What was it Minghao? What tipped you off about him? I gave you an ounce of info about him and suddenly you can tell everything about him?!" You're sure that at the decibel you were screamng at, those standing out in the bullpen could hear you.
"Babygirl I-"
"No, humor me for a sec Mr. Profiler, was it how dashingly handsome he was or how interested he was in me that screamed wrong to you?"
"Wait—"
"Just because YOU wouldn't cross a crowded room to hit on me, doesn't mean that someone else— someone less frivolous and not so damn full of themselves wouldn't. You want fiery Xu? How's this: You're a fucking coward."
You slam the receiver down and the dam bursts. You call for one of the other analysts to take over your casework for the day and rush home. As you're heading out, your boss catches you and you quickly tell him to expect a call once you get home explaining why you're leaving midday in the middle of the week. The elevator ride feels like agonizing hours, your anxiety spreading itself like wildfire across your body. You thank every star above that Chan was on his break because you didn't want to face him, mostly because you didn't want to break down at the entrance of your building where you could be perceived. It's only while you're driving home, in the quiet of midday traffic, do you let yourself actually cry. The tears making stoplights and street signs blurs of reds and greens. The rest of the afternoon is spent rotting on your couch, sniffling over the man who caused your heart to splinter.
When you're sure you've cried all the water out of you, you get up to get some water. A chill has landed in your apartment and you resort to wrapping your softest blanket around you. Grabbing your blanket ends up knocking over your purse and its contents spill out onto your carpet. The whine that comes out of you mirrors a petulant child and you kneel down to gather the mess up. When you think that you've returned everything into your purse, you notice a crumpled cupsleeve from the cafe you frequent. You pick it up and head to the kitchen to throw it in the trash, but before you drop into the plastic, you notice the handwriting on the back of it. You get a closer look and see that the mess of scribble is actually Donghyuck's number.
You don't know if it's rage, revenge, or purely just needing a distraction but suddenly you're grabbing your phone and dialing the number. After three rings, the call connects and you hear his smile before his voice.
"Hello?"
"Hi Donghyuck?"
"Ah the girl whose drink matches her voice!" You smile at his words and even giggle a little. You share that work had you pre-occupied (not a lie, but not the truth). The laughter on the other end of the line gives you butterflies.
"Are you free this weekend?" you blurt out. Immediately realizing how sudden it might seem you stutter out, "To pay you b-back for coffee, of course!" Your voice squeaks at the end and you roll your eyes at how pathetic you probably look right now.
"Saturday for dinner work for you gorgeous?"
You bite your lip at the nickname, feeling like you were back in elementary school waiting for your crush to read your note. Telling him that Saturday was perfect, he affirms by telling you he'll pick you up around eight o'clock.
Saturday rolls around and you're getting ready for your date with Donghyuck, but there's a twinge of something wrong in the air. Something in your gut isn't settling well.
Everything reminded you of him.
The outfit you were wearing? The first time you'd worn the ensemble, Minghao had said that the color made your eyes shine like galaxies.
The bangle hanging off your right hand? A present from him after your first year at the BAU. "A celebration — to turning a new leaf", he said as he closed the clasp around your wrist. You unconsciously rub your fingers around the metal band surrounding your forearm. The indentation of your favorite flowers etched in intricate detail, providing a sense of familiarity and emptiness.
The color on your lips, painted the same color the night you two almost kissed. The color he said was downright sinful but made you look like you had been plucked straight from heaven.
The moisture in your eyes isn't apparent until you're staring back at your blurry reflection. The soft ambient lighting in your apartment becomes unclear in the mirror. A groan erupts from the back of your throat as you blink the tears back, not wanting to ruin the makeup you'd spent way too much time on.
You felt him everywhere and it was suffocating. It became loud and clear that your heart still beats for one person and one person only. Your heart takes over your body and you reach for your phone to cancel your plans with Donghyuck. Before you can even press the call icon, a knock on your door startles you.
He's here? Already? You could've sworn that you had agreed on 8 pm and your clock only read quarter past 7. A quick swipe of your phone confirms that there were no new messages from Hyuck. You shrug, assuming that maybe he had just decided to come early. You let out a huff, realizing that the hot guy from the cafe is probably standing outside of your apartment, minutes after you'd come to the earth shattering realization that you were still hung up on the profiler you'd been avoiding for weeks. This was going to be really awkward.
Men and their awful fucking timing.
You grab a sweater to shield yourself from the inevitable chill that opening your front door would allow in. But what awaits you on the other side of your cherry red door isn't something that your sweater could've prepared you for.
"Minghao?"
The tips of his ears and his entire nose as bright as your door. Puffs of his breath coming out in short bursts. His chest was heaving. Did he run over here?
"What are you doing here?" You're staring at him in bewilderment.
It had been a while since you had last been face to face. The last time you'd seen him was the day you told him about Donghyuck. The last time you'd actually spoken to him was during the Florida case. Where he'd unknowingly planted a hurtful comment inside of you. You'd ignored his invite to the bar the day that he returned. The tradition of movie night on Saturdays had been skipped the last couple of weekends, with whatever excuse you could come up with. It took a lot of convincing on your end, but your boss allowed you to sit out on team briefs just so you didn't have to be in the same room as Minghao. One of the things that stayed with you from your past life was the ability to determine who was walking by based only on their tread. This came in especially handy on the days that you couldn't work from home. That skill escaped you in this very moment.
Because here he is. Right outside your apartment.
You say nothing and cross your arms with an air of ignorance.
"You said I wouldn't cross a crowded room to hit on you and you're right." You roll your eyes and start to close the door but he stops it. He pushes the door back open and lets himself into your apartment. Your eyes are wide, staring at his audacity.
"I'd do more." Kicking off his boots, he stalks further into your apartment. The nerve he has to make himself familiar in your sanctuary. What infuriates you further is how devastatingly handsome he looks. Hair the color of onyx, perfectly windswept, the tips of them covered in half melted snowflakes. You can see under his black trench coat, a black ribbed tank, showing off his stupidly perfect collarbones and the small layer of sheen from what you assume is the result of him running to your place.
"What?" The look on your face is a combination of bewilderment and annoyance. Minghao across your living room, huffs out and crosses to you.
He cradles your face then presses his forehead against yours.
"I'm sorry I was a coward."
Seconds that feel like hours pass and he finally kisses you. And of course it's perfect, the kind of kiss that you dream of when kissing the person that holds your entire heart. The perfect clash of passion. The kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more. The kind that leaves the both of you panting as you pull away for air.
"God for a profiler, you were really unable to read me for the longest time."
"I don't use my skills for personal gain, babygirl."
"Maybe you should…" The lilt in your voice is teasing.
"You think so?" You flash him a grin, one that's inviting in nature.
"So… When you said you'd do more, what did that exactly entail?" You tease, fisting your hands in his tank as you pull him in for another kiss. His hands hadn't left your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as he returns your advance.
There is fire behind both of your lips, you can feel the rawness as the two of you clumsily fight for dominance. Minghao fists a hand in your hair and gently tugs, exposing your neck to him. He trails kisses down to your collarbone, each touch igniting the flame inside your stomach. He's got you pushed up against the wall, placing marks across your chest. Desire is pooling at the apex of your thighs and like moth to a flame, Minghao senses it. His free hands makes its way down your body, down to where you wanted to feel him the most. Pushing up your dress, he dreamily sighs at the sight that beholds him: red mesh underwear that leaves little to the imagination. The minx that he is skirts around your pulsing clit, the tips of his fingers flirting around your bundle of nerves through the thin layer of fabric. You whine against his lips, hips involuntarily pushing into his hand. The sound of his smile against your lips is intoxicating and the smokiness of his rasp is sinful.
"C'mon babygirl, use your words and tell me what you want."
Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he weaponizes his nickname for you. You can't help but whimper when he slides your underwear to the side and makes brief contact with your clit, an unrecognizable pitch coming from you. His lips have returned to your neck and your hands find purchase in his locks.
"Fuck Minghao. Please" You beg. The lack of touch driving you to the brink of insanity. He moves his hands, but in the opposite direction of what you want. A pout forms on your lips and another whine spills past. He pulls you away from the wall and kisses you again, hands roaming, like he was mapping every part of you he wanted to devour. They stop at your ass where he grabs a handful, the groan that follows sending heat straight to your belly. In between lip locks, he lightly taps the backs of your thighs and in a low register laced with sin, commanded
"Jump."
Your body moved faster than your mind, wrapping your legs around his waist. The simple ask sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He carries you with ease to your bedroom, whose door he kicks open. You tell him this later but this very simple act of carrying you like you were weightless made you want to praise him like a god. Laying you at the edge of your bed, he stands back to drink the sight of you in. What he sees is feminine divine: your hair flowing like you were Aphrodite herself, remnants of your lipstick looking decadent on your lips, the way you're chewing on your bottom lip the very definition of sin. You prop yourself up on your elbows, completely in your head. You, the girl who was often passed over, almost always the second choice, felt the voices of doubt nipping at your skin. Even now as he towers over you, in your bedroom, you're avoiding his gaze and you can feel yourself shrinking.
"Hey, no. None of that pretty," he takes your chin in your hand and focuses your gaze on him. He kisses you, softly, waxing poetic of your beauty in between breaths. You mentally thank your past self for choosing a dress with buttons in the front as he begins to fumble with them. He doesn't get very far and out of frustration rips the front of your dress open, buttons flying in every direction. A sound of protest comes from you, but Minghao is immediately shutting you up by telling you he'll buy you another one. The other thing that shuts you up is his arms as he removes his trench coat. You'd always known his arms were thick, the lines of them defined in the button ups he'd wear to work, but seeing them bare confirmed your beliefs. The stretch of his biceps as he took his tank off making you dizzy.
There was no doubt about the hunger in his eyes as they raked down your body, the smirk forming when he realized that your bra matched your underwear. For a swift second, there's a tinge of darkness in them that chills your spine. The sound that comes from him can be described as nothing but feral when he leans over you and pushes your bra down. A mix of cold air and his warm wet mouth around your nipple makes you hiss. Your hands lock him to your chest and your hips are bucking up into him. His free hand reaches up and two fingers graze your lips and push into your open mouth. You feel Minghao smile against your chest when you swirl your tongue against his fingers. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he dances a line down to your core, sliding them through your wet folds. The sensation elicits a sound that vibrates through your chest and you buck your hips against his palm, signaling your desire. He picks up on your cue and slides two fingers into you, the sensation stinging in the best way possible.Bucking your hips up into the air with wanton need, you lay a message for him to find in your moans — keep going.
The telepathic connection you two have proves to still be fully functional as he continues his pace. Curling his long, slender fingers into a spot that makes you feel like he's bringing down the stars just for you. Warmth is spreading all over your body, the band in your core beginning to tighten up. Your breath is getting shallower, your moans are barely sounds.
"Let go for me babygirl."
"Let me feel it," He urges and you can't do anything but oblige.
The coil snaps and the pleasure is white-hot. You cry his name out as you squeeze around his fingers. The bliss you feel pushes you to drag his face up to you and capture his lips. You snake a free hand down to his pants and palm his length, a moan coming out when you feel how hard he is. Switching positions, you get yourself on top of him and grind on him to try and cure the ache in your core. He makes space between the two of you and undresses his lower half for you.
You're slightly ashamed for how you drool when his length flops up and smacks against his toned stomach, but that feeling quickly disappears. There's a split second where you pout when you take in how well endowed Minghao is. Mentally whining that he was blessed in every department, you wrap your hand around his length and you hear him grit his teeth. There's a glint in your eye as you shimmy down and take his leaking head in your mouth. It's almost automatic how his hand flies and threads into your scalp. A groan escapes him and that encourages you to take his length even deeper. This action gets him to throw his head back and in turn pulling your hair. The sting from that sends waves of heat to your core.
"Fuck pretty girl, I knew your mouth was filthy but holy fu-" He doesn't finish his sentence because you take him in fully and he hits the back of your throat. You look up at him and the way his face twists in pleasure has you sucking harder. This proves to be enjoyable for him because you feel him trying not to buck his hips up into your mouth.
"Fuck. Fuck baby, hold on. I don't-" You pull off him, a look of worry in your eyes, eyelashes wet from your actions. He instantly assures you that nothing is wrong, he just embarrassingly doesn't want to cum too early. His ears twinge pink and you giggle at him, coming back up and placing a kiss on his nose.
"You have no idea, how long…" he stops himself, but you give his hand a squeeze, telling him you understand. He kisses you lightly and before you two get lost in the heat, he pulls away then pats on your bed. Getting the hint, you climb onto your bed and wait for him. Turning over sits in front of you, drinking in the sight of you once again. There's lust in his eyes, yours too, but there's warmth behind the gaze.
Taking your left leg in his hand, he places a kiss on your ankle. The fire inside you burns brighter. Switching to your right leg, he does the same. There's hunger that radiates off him as he gets to your thigh and lands a big bite. He sucks at a spot close to where you ache for him the most. Pulling his hair in response, but he toys with you further and continues to bite and leave marks all over your thighs. He continues peppering kisses up along your body, maneuvering himself left and right, until he gets to your face where he places a soft kiss on your lips.
He reaches down to palm himself and the very real fact that the two of you are about to have sex, hits you.
"Wait, Hao," you say softly. He hums in response and you're trying to figure out how to ask for what you want without ruining the mood. In true fashion, Minghao senses your brain running wild and tilts your chin to look up at him.
"Where's your head at pretty?" He brushes your cheek with this thumb. Blushing is the name of the game and you have Olympic gold without even trying. Shyly you express that you haven't been with anyone in a while, which meant that you hadn't been on birth control. Your face is beet red as you're about to ask him for a condom, but he stops you in your tracks.
"Baby, you never have to feel weird about asking me to put on a condom," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your forehead. He pulls back and looks straight into your eyes,
"Your comfort isn't optional. Ever."
He leans over to where he dropped his pants and fishes out a condom. He slips it on and returns to hover over you. Spreading your legs open with his knee, a sharp inhale comes from him when his eyes drop to your pussy, still glistening and pulsing from earlier. Reaching his hand down, he wraps his hand around himself and plays with your folds. Still sensitive from his fingers, you jump a bit at the contact. After a beat, he slides himself in with ease. Once he's bottomed out, you pull his face to yours to kiss him.
The two of you are a mix of groans as Minghao picks up the pace. One of his hands rolls a nipple in between his finger and thumb. The room feels hot, you feel sweat prickle at the base of your neck and the backs of your knees. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets, toes curling at the height of pleasure he's bringing you to. You're begging him for more with your moans, you can feel your throat beginning to get sore.
When he suddenly slides out of you, you whimper at how empty you feel. The feeling only lasts for a second as he takes your left leg and throws it over his shoulder and sliding right back in. The new angle that he's fucking you with makes you dizzy with pleasure. Broken cries come out of your throat. His right hand grips your hip harshly as he pummels into you. Taking your left leg, he pulls it straight up by the calf and starts kissing your ankle again. The sensation sending fire straight to your core, prompting you to squeeze tightly around him. In reaction he lets out a low growl and nips at your ankle.
"Fuck Mingh-hao. Feels so good!" The room is filled with the noises of him slamming against your pussy and the chorus of your voices ringing out in pleasure. You know your neighbors are gonna hate you, but you quickly stop caring as Minghao continues rutting into you.
He moans against your calf in response, you feel the vibrations in your belly. The pace of his thrusts are starting to slow and you can feel that he's close. Arching your back off the bed, the angle is deeper and kisses the tip of your cervix. You know that you're gonna feel it tomorrow, but this was another thing that future you could worry about. This is Minghao's downfall as the new angle has you squeezing him tighter. Your second orgasm crashes over you and he catches the swell with the ease of a veteran surfer.
"Fu-fu-fuck, baby I'm cumming," he groans as he lets your leg go. You wrap both of your legs around his waist and cradle him as he collapses on top of you and spills into the condom. The two of you stay like this for a few moments, until Minghao slowly pulls out of you. Immediately feeling the sensitivity, you let out a small hiss as he slides out. He peppers your face with kisses to help as he slips the condom off.
After the two of you get cleaned up, you both lay under your sheets — legs tangled, your breaths matching each others, his hand drawing random shapes on your upper arm. The silence that falls over you two is comfortable, but there's something waiting to break the quiet.
"We did this totally backwards," Minghao giggles. You look up at him with wide eyes, a bit in shock with his choice of his words. Realizing that, he immediately presses a kiss to your nose to calm you.
"What I meant was that I would've at least liked to take you on a date first." It was Minghao's turn to blush. You giggle and place a soft kiss on his lips.
"We've never been the kind to go about things the typical way Hao," you quip. The smile he gives you makes your heart sing and swell. It's the type of smile that you'd spend the rest of your life preserving. The kind people fought wars for.
"That's true… In that case, wanna be my girlfriend?"
You hit his chest softly and he places his hand over yours. You kiss his hand and you know that he knows the answer to his question.
Yes.
It's a new week of work and you and Minghao walk into the building, hand in hand. Your favorite security guard makes no verbal mention of it when you walk past him, but you do not miss the giant grin plastered on his face as he hands the two of you your badges.
"You get up to anything fun this weekend?" The smugness incredibly evident on his face. You shrug, pretending to be absolutely aloof. In your periphery, you see the tips of Minghao's ears turn pink. Collecting your badges from Chan's hands, you nudge Minghao in the direction of the elevator. Once inside, you let out the laugh you'd been holding in, clutching your your sides. He looks at you like you've grown two heads. You wipe your tears and explain to him that Chan knew about the feelings you'd been harboring for the last five years.
"Chan was probably thinking 'Finally'." You shake your head, chuckling. As soon the two of you step off the elevator, you hear a shriek and suddenly you're pulled away from Minghao. You get wrapped into a tight hug by Hyeri, who sounds absolutely hysterical.
"Hi! What's this for? Don't get me wrong I quite love everything that is happening, but Ri you never hug me." She hits your arm, sniffling, warning you to not joke around.
The rest of the team surrounds you, thanking the heavens that you were alright. You and Minghao share the same questioning look. Your resident boy-genius fills you in by directing your eyes to the TV behind him. Your boss, Agent Choi Seungcheol is leading a press conference. Your eyebrows scrunch in even more confusion and then you read the byline at the bottom of the screen: "Caissa Networks sends clear message to the FBI". Hyeri finally lets you go, her eyes rimmed with red and damp. She continues scolding you for not answering any of her calls over the weekend. She rambles on about the fact that there was a threatening letter left on the doorstep of your boss' door with your name on it.
The bullpen is quiet until Dr. Jeon breaks the silence.
"What did happen to you this weekend?" You shake your head, shifting your eyes to Minghao. Neither of you talked about whether or not you were gonna tell everyone the second you came back to the office. You were both otherwise preoccupied. Before either of you can fumble through some awkward explanation, Seungcheol walks in, the poster boy for stoicism.
"Team meeting. 10 minutes," is all he says as he walks by. Like ducklings following their mother, the rest of the team tails behind him. Wonwoo narrows his eyes at the two of you before following suit. Silence falls between you and Minghao. You can hear the corners of his mouth turning up, ready to interrupt the quiet.
"So… You gonna tell the truth and say it was love at first sight?" The smugness is radiating off of him. You roll your eyes and mockingly tell him that he's not funny.
The smile on his face is annoyingly wide, but also dazzling. Not wanting to dignify him with a response, you turn on your heel and walk towards the conference room.
"C'moooon. It's a little bit funny!" He whispers into your ear.
"Pissing me off this early in the morning and in our relationship is not a smart move, Xu." You grumble quietly as you enter the conference room. Minghao's right behind you, sheepish grin as Seungcheol raises his brow at the two of you.
The rest of the meeting is spent trying to keep your focus as Minghao draws circles on your thigh underneath the table. You know it's his special way of apologizing and buttering you up. You make eye contact with Hyeri at some point and from across the table she mouths, "Girlfriend?!" referring to your comment from earlier. A look that says "I'll explain everything later" dances in your eyes and she returns a quick nod. There's a smile hidden behind your eyes, giddy at the memory of Minghao asking you to be his girlfriend.
a/n: this is my longest fic so far, this was such a labor of love and i am so excited to share it with everyone! this fic would not exist without the beautiful brains behind this collab: luna, rae and izzy — thank you for bringing everyone together and giving us new writers a space to feel comfy and welcomed.
to @livmarauder, @luvrung and @belovedgyu thank you for beta reading and helping this fic shine even brighter!
a special dedication to my 8stars always!
as always rbs are appreciated and rb's with your comments/tags are welcomed ♡
divider cred: @bunnytoppop
Synopsis: requested - Art major! Minghao needs a new muse for his portfolio for the upcoming finals. He puts up an ad for a "nude model" and never expected his long-time crush to answer the call.
Warnings: mdni, 18+, nerd! Minghao, loser! Minghao, art major! Minghao, simp! Minghao, smut, oral (f rec.), fingering, boba barista! reader, silly, theater major! dk, culinary arts major! Mingyu, 97 line friendship, Dk & Minghao are roommates, public smut? (squint), consent king! Minghao, these two dummies have crushes on each other and don't really tell each other, stranger danger!, Minghao is big and pretty, riding, loveseat, Minghao has a mid-life crisis, Minghao stopped meditating, cream pie, unprotected smut, overstim etc.
wc: 4.8k+ (guys, my longest fic yet)
Minghao is getting desperate.
Everybody thinks being an art major is easy until finals are near and only half of your portfolio is done.
Honestly, at this point, Minghao is contemplating calling one of his friends for a huge favor. He knows Kim Mingyu, a culinary arts major, would show up for him, or even Seokmin, a theater major, and his other friend would show up for him. But if Minghao was being honest, he’d rather die.
I know, dramatic, and maybe it’s cause he stopped meditating two weeks ago, but he’s also kind of serious. Half of his portfolio already consists of his two friends, and he shouldn’t have to rely on them to be his muse for the whole thing. Art is expression; it is stepping out of the box, reading in between the lines, or whatever they’re selling to kids these days.
So, instead of calling on his usual lifeline, Minghao puts a neon green flyer for a “nude model” on the bulletin board outside his campus’s library and rushes to his part-time job at an antique store when he’s used up the rest of his resources.
He doesn’t really think he’s going to get a response from the flyer; there are so many colorful papers already on the board as it is. And he only got the idea from Seokmin, who had put a plain white paper on the board when the theater major told him he was going to try to do some tutoring between classes. And let’s be honest, not many people would respond to being a nude model for his art class; it was a vulnerable thing to be naked in front of someone who would be attempting to make art out of life.
But then, after closing up the antique store alone one night, he gets a text from an unknown number. It’s a short text, saying they saw his flyer and were open to trying something new. It’s a miracle. And Minghao is thrilled that he might just make finals, so he forgets to ask who is texting him. He just gives a thumbs-up emoji and gives a date and location of the art studio to a stranger on his phone and rushes to the bus to make it back to his dorm for the night.
Seokmin is the one who reminds him of “stranger danger” when he sees his roommate back in the dorm. They’re both in the shared kitchen, with the National Geographic playing in the background of their living room. It’s then, when the narrator talks about the pod of whales swimming south for the winter, that Minghao realizes he never asked who texted him three hours ago. “Stranger danger is a real thing; it can happen to anyone,” Seokmin says, dead serious, and Minghao has to focus on pouring his tea so he doesn’t give his friend a deadpan look.
“What if it’s a girl?” Mingyu calls out; he’s on speakerphone on Dokyeom’s phone, and the room suddenly goes still. The three men didn’t have much interaction with women in college. Surprisingly, none of them had much experience with dating. Not that they planned this, it was just that, in society standards, they were at the bottom of the pyramid when it came to the cool guy persona.
Not many girls were interested in guys who had a Dungeons and Dragons game that had been ongoing since freshman year; they were juniors now.
“I’m not some creep,” Minghao scoffs, breaking the silence as they thought about the prospect. “I’m an art major, we need to see all types of people,” he continues and tries to mentally convince himself that his hot tea is what is making his hands clammy. “If the model is a girl, I’ll make sure she’s okay with doing the job still, and hopefully I’ll have my portfolio done just in time for finals.”
And that’s the end of that, because Mingyu, who literally handles knives every day for culinary class, trips, and the sound of a plate shattering resonates through the phone. You can hear Mingyu whine out a curse before both Seokmin and Minghao bully the clumsy one through the phone mercilessly.
-
“5 pm in room 2130.” Minghao reads the text once, twice, and then a third time when he steps out of the shower on Thursday afternoon. He’s finished all of his classes for the day and rented out the art studio for two hours, five to seven pm.
After that night when Seokmin lectured him about strangers being dangerous, he chickened out from texting the unknown person on his phone to ask who they were. It felt awkward to ask after he had already set up the time and place, so he just let it get buried in the back of his mind while he continued his classes for the week. And when Thursday came around, Minghao had decided to keep the positive attitude of “glass half full.”
He will not be the first to die in a horror movie; it’ll be Dokyeom.
“What if the model ends up being that one person you stare at when we get boba?” Mingyu suddenly says while Minghao is shrugging his jacket on. Seokmin and Mingyu were settling in on the couch, about to re-watch Star Wars in chronological order, and Minghao’s heart dropped to his stomach.
“Are we talking about the barista whom Minghao sketches in his notebook that he thinks we don’t know about?” DK quips, and Mingyu nods his head while pointing at DK in agreement.
“What? I don’t- wait, how did-“ Minghao feels heat crawl up his neck and face when he thinks about his crush, forgetting his words while his friends share knowing grins. “There is no notebook.” He finally huffs, and Mingyu snorts.
There definitely is a notebook.
“Yeah, and Seokmin doesn’t have a crush on the girl he’s tutoring.” Mingyu teases while Seokmin startles, caught red-handed. Minghao would have high-fived Mingyu for that, but he’s still reeling about the idea of his crush naked. So instead, he ends up ignoring both of the idiots he calls friends and leaves to head over to the studio.
He planned to arrive at the studio ten minutes early to set up. He wants to set up his area and pull up a chair for whenever his model gets here. He remembers to turn the temperature up in the room, knowing it’s always cold in the studio, and as he unzips his bag to pull out his favorite pencils, he hears the door open.
Mingyu literally prayed for Minghao’s downfall.
Minghao only turned a little before he froze in place, because only your head is poking through the open space in the doorway, but Minghao would have recognized you anywhere. In a crowded room, across the library, on Wednesday nights in the cafeteria for trivia night. I mean, he’s only had a crush on you since the end of freshman year.
“Hi,” your voice is soft, and your smile is dazzling as you take a quick sweep of the room and meet his eyes. And it’s just him, lips parted, eyes a little wide, staring back at you. “Is this for the nude modeling?” You ask, and Minghao might pass out.
Minghao flounders; the grip he suddenly has on his pencil almost might break it, but he luckily finds his words and says, “Yeah.”
Smooth.
You step fully into the room now, your smile brightening and blinding Minghao that he forgets, for a moment, how to think. You’re stunning, and not in your boba uniform, as you walk closer to him. Your lips move, most likely introducing yourself to him, and Minghao can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart. He already knows your name; he had immediately needed to know it after one small interaction years ago, but you don’t know that yet.
And his hands immediately sweat as he realizes you’re blinking at him with a little grin after a few moments of silence pass between you two. Oh. Oh. It’s his turn to talk. “Minghao,” he chokes out, and your smile grows big again, a giggle slipping past as you nod your head at him.
“Minghao,” you echo, letting yourself hear it from your own mouth, and Minghao’s cheeks darken with a blush. “I like it,” you decide and send him a wink that you don’t know will be seared into his brain for years to come. “So, how do we do this? It’s my first time modeling,” you hum and clap your hands, already looking around for a stage or something to know what to do next. And Minghao’s heart stutters; the thing actually squeezes in his chest because it’s dawning on him, you’re about to strip for him, and he was going to sketch you. Fuck, he was going to see you naked!
Alarms ring in his head as he genuinely swears to any of the gods that might be listening to him right now that he’ll be extra nice to Mingyu the next time he sees him when this is all over. He straightens up after that thought and soldiers on bravely. “I have a chair,” Minghao dumbly points out, his long index finger pointing at the loveseat in the center of the room. Your eyes follow his finger to the chair. “I think it’d be more, uh, comfortable than standing.” He explains, and you nod cutely in agreement.
Minghao reminds himself to breathe, and his fingers run through his shaggy wolf cut hair as you slip your jacket off with ease. “Cool, you just tell me how you want me,” you say it so casually as you head over to the sofa, that while Minghao checks you out from behind, his cock can’t help but twitch at the hidden innuendo.
He’s so fucked.
And when you turn around, your eyes sparkle as you tilt your head at him. There is clear amusement written on your face, so you must have picked up on your own words, but then you double down, giving him a knowing smirk. “Tell me, do you want me to strip for you now?”
Minghao knows he won’t make it out alive, but he still nods his head weakly, his cheeks burning a darker red as he watches your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt. You’re wearing a simple t-shirt with a pair of jeans, but to Minghao, you look like you’ve been sent straight from heaven. His heart lurches, and before you can lift your shirt higher than your waist, he’s putting his hands out.
His palms face you as Minghao bows his head, clearly flustered, and it’s truly endearing to see him squeeze his eyes shut. “Wait! I, uh, are you okay?” Minghao stumbles out and opens his eyes to see you raise an eyebrow with a grin. “I just-“ Minghao wets his lips with his tongue, and his ears burn hot as he explains. “I know the flyer said nude modeling, but I need to make sure you’re still comfortable with it.”
You could coo the way he tries to reassure you. He doesn’t know how adorable he is, and you decide maybe just showing him would be better than saying it. You make sure he's watching and slip your shirt right off.
Minghao’s mouth salivates.
He’s no better than a pervert when he sees the pretty lace bra you wear. You’re gorgeous, and clearly comfortable in front of him as you unbutton your jeans. “You’re making art, right?” You say, and Minghao’s mind whirls as you smile at him and unzip your jeans nice and slow.
The room becomes warm, and Minghao has to sit down in his seat while you pull your jeans down. More skin is exposed, and he bites his lip to hold in a whimper when he realizes your pretty lace panties match your bra. He’s hoping he’s far enough away that you don’t see how his hands shake, his fingers curling to make a fist over his thighs.
And like you know what you do to him, you speak up again. “Paint me like one of your French girls, Hao.” You reference the movie Titanic with a giggle, and then you reach behind to unclasp your bra. The thin material falls, and Minghao’s eyes roll to the back of his head. If he died right now, he would be totally fine with that. But you’re not done, and when he blinks, dazed, he almost chokes from the view of you slipping your panties down your legs.
You’re everything.
Minghao’s head spins as all his blood rushes south, making his cock swell and jerk inside his pants. You only make it worse when you climb onto the loveseat, the soft cushions dipping under your weight as you lounge back. The smile you give is faux innocence; you can see his face growing redder by the second, and it amuses you to no end.
What Minghao doesn’t know is that you recognize him.
-
The moment you locked eyes with him in the studio, you realized he was one of your regulars at Honey Bee, the cafe you worked part-time at in between being a full-time student. It had seemed to be a habit of his for almost as long as you’ve been working at the boba cafe. Minghao would come in around six pm, head down, sometimes accompanied by two other guys, every Tuesday without fail. You’d usually be on as a cashier, the first person greeting anyone who made the bell above the front door ring.
And you’d see Minghao’s cheeks flush every time you gave him a warm smile. Almost instantly, the chunky headphones he wore would be wrapped around his neck, and his hands would be shoved into his jacket as he avoided eye contact to read the menu board above your head. You would lean against the counter separating you, staying quiet as you let him pretend to contemplate what he would order.
It was adorable that he did this; you knew he always got the same thing, a classic roasted oolong milk tea, only 50% sweet and light ice. And after week five of this, you had made your own habit. Your eyes would naturally find the clock hanging in the corner of the cafe, reading the time, and when it got close to six, you would already be making his drink. You blame it on excellent customer service, but you also never told him you did this. You also conveniently left out that on each clear plastic cup, hidden behind the cup sleeve, there was a sharpied heart or cute smiley face just for him.
You couldn’t blame that on customer service; you’re not really sure why you did it, but it was your little secret. And it always made you smile a little sweeter when he took the cup, his fingers brushing yours before you were back to greeting the next customer.
And you thought that was all it was. Small interactions with a stranger you saw weekly, you didn’t know that getting distracted by the colorful papers on the bulletin board outside your college’s library would lead you back to him.
It truly was on a whim, the wind fluttering all the papers pinned to the board; you were supposed to be walking to your next class when you stopped in front of all the flyers. Neon pink for an underground rock band, a blue piece of paper informing you of volunteer work at the local pound, a white piece of paper offering tutoring, and then a neon green flyer.
Your lips had curved up in amusement at the prospect of nude modeling, the risk to be on full display, sounded like a nightmare and a possible fun story to tell later, and that’s why you saved the phone number listed at the bottom. Call it impulsive, but you sent a text and didn’t think twice about it.
And maybe that’s why, a week later, opening the studio door and expecting a class of art students to be looking back at you, only to be greeted by your regular customer, shocked you. He seemed just as surprised as you, which comforted you, and you decided it had to be fate.
-
“Is there a certain position you want me?” You ask, resting your head in your hand. You can’t see Minghao’s face, but you can see the way his leg won’t stop shaking. You briefly think you should give the poor man a break from the teasing, but you can’t help but find his flustered state endearing.
His pencil snapping in two brings you from your silly little daydream, and you’re greeted with Minghao’s dark eyes peeking from above his sketchpad. “Position?” He croaks, and you hold in your laughter as you nod your head.
You round your eyes, blinking at him as you wave your hand down your body, feeling his eyes follow along down your side. “Yeah, you can tell me if you’d like me a certain way or if you want to just move me yourself, that’s fine too.”
You hear a choked breath muffled behind paper, and a warmth pools low in your stomach. Your thighs clench the moment your mind drafts a scenario of him, finally losing his last bit of willpower, and giving in. The thought alone has you squirming, a wave of slick seeping from your aching pussy. You weren’t blind. Minghao was handsome, and if his blushing was any indication, you were pretty sure the attraction was mutual.
But as time went on, the small studio was warming up, or maybe that was you, and the thoughts increased. Your eyes hooded, trailed up his body slowly, taking in his beat-up Converse to his baggy jeans, his knee bouncing up and down in such a fast rate you could practically see his whole body vibrating. How could he sketch like that?
And then it dawned on you.
-
“Minghao,” your voice dripped like honey, a sweet hum that made Minghao’s eyes leave the painfully blank sketchpad to look over at you. His mouth parts, his eyes widening as he took you in, and his sanity threatened to leave him.
You had moved, sitting up and leaning back against the sofa with your knees bent up. Your thighs parted naturally, showcasing your drooling cunt to Minghao, the glistening of your folds grabbing all his attention as you tilt your head at him. “Oh,” all the air leaves his lungs, his cock had been hard for a while now, his precum leaking from his mushroom tip and staining his boxers as he quietly had a mid-life crisis.
Turns out, when your crush was naked, barely ten feet away from you, it made it extremely hard to focus on anything. Minghao didn’t mean to waste an hour staring dumbfounded at his notebook, but he couldn’t openly stare at you either. You had come here for a reason, and he really tried, okay?
“Minghao,” you call his name, and his gaze flicks up to you. He can feel his face heat up, his heart hammering against his chest as you level your gaze with his. And then you say the one thing that breaks his resolve. “Come here.”
You’re probably taking pity on him or something, but at this point, Minghao doesn’t care; he sinks to his knees between your open thighs in less than five steps, his warm palms wrapping around your ankles as he looks up at you with glossy eyes. You can almost see the hearts in his dark brown eyes, his tongue wetting his lips as he hiccups. “Can I?” His gaze drops to your pretty pussy, and an anguished groan slips from his lips, “Can I?”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before your heart is skipping a beat, you're silent as you nod your head, and your eyes are captivated by the desperation he shows. Should it turn you on as much as it does to see how pathetically gone he already is? You don’t get to answer your own question before his head is dipping between your legs, shamelessly answering for you.
With his face buried between your sweet folds, his tongue messily laps up your drooling slit with a low groan. The syrupy slick of your arousal sizzles across his taste buds and makes his mouth salivate even more, his saliva adding to the wetness of your cunt with the awkwardness of someone who didn’t have much experience. His fingertips dig into your plush thighs, spreading you open, and allowing him to smush his face even closer. You’re not sure if he can breathe with the way he glues his lips to your pretty pussy, but you are positive that he doesn’t even care.
Minghao’s knees are seated firmly on the concrete floor, his body hunching over the loveseat to get your thighs over his slim shoulders, and his lips wrapped around your puffy clit. His tongue swirls around the sweet nub, licking the bundle of nerves into his mouth until your hips buck. Every little reaction he can pull from you has him learning what he should and shouldn’t do to get your moans growing and your thighs shaking around his head.
His tongue curls past your velvety walls, placing dirty French kisses into your pussy as he slowly becomes pussydrunk. You can only thread your fingers into his hair, holding on as he surges forward, dragging his nose along your clit as he slurps every drop of slick that seeps onto his greedy tongue.
He’s got your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the lewd smacks of his mouth on your pussy resonate in the empty art studio. It’s filthy, the way he groans lovesick into your wet heat, your gummy walls fluttering around his tongue while one of his hands slips from your thigh to get to your drooling cunt. His tongue is still probing deep into your soaked, twitching hole, but now his middle finger circles the entrance, making your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure.
Minghao had seen this on his computer when he was alone in his dorm one night, and you don’t know how much he thought about getting to do it to you. And it’s better than he can ever imagine as your pussy welcomes the intrusion along with his tongue and he forces you to stretch not only around his wet muscle digging deep inside, but his finger too.
It’s maddening, feeling your gummy walls being stretched by his long finger and fat tongue, but then you’re crying out as he adds a second digit. His fingertips rub along your throbbing walls and light up every nerve ending with zaps of electricity that you feel all the way down to your toes, and you're crushing his face closer with a wrecked whimper.
Your stomach sucks in, the muscles in your thighs flexing as your orgasm races to the forefront. And you’re left convulsing as your mind reels, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth like glue as your orgasm crashes through you hot and fast. Wave after wave of your arousal gushes into Minghao’s open mouth, and your jaw drops in a lewd expression, your tongue lolling out from the intensity you didn’t expect from the orgasm Minghao pulls from you.
And throughout it all, his tongue works over your pulsing cunt, prolonging your high until tears spring up in your eyes and you’re tugging on his hair for mercy.
When he leans back on his knees, you're gifted with a fucked-out Minghao. His hair is disheveled from your tugging earlier, his lips swollen from making out with your pussy, and the lower half of his face shining with remnants of your sweet slick. The sight of him is too much to bear, and you're wasting no time in pulling him up to you.
Your lips crash into his, the taste of you still heavy on his tongue, only making you moan in his mouth as your hands reach in between the two of you to tug at his jeans. It only takes a split second to get you flipping your positions and having a pliant Minghao leaning back on the couch. You straddle his lap, tugging his jeans and boxers down low enough to free his aching cock.
And fuck, you didn’t know someone could have a pretty cock. Minghao’s big, long, and curving to the right, that your pussy throbs wantonly from the sight of him alone. You see that the tip of his cock is angry red and needy, coated with drips of precum, and silently asking to be buried down your throat or inside your tender cunt. The veins run down his length with pulsing throbs, and the sight of his hooded eyes looking up at you reverently doesn’t make you hesitate from taking his cock in your hand. “Tell me, do you want to stop?” You ask, guiding him between your thighs until the blunt head of his cock catches at your entrance. Your mind is muddled in lust, but you’re realizing your crush on Minghao is very real and has been for a while. You watch the way his cheeks are permanently flushed, while the sweat of his neck forces pieces of his hair to stick against his skin as you wait for his answer.
“No, please-” His dewy eyes meet yours, and it’s all you need to have your hips lower, the tip of his cock pushing past your velvety walls and having both of you moan from the feeling. “Use me. Whatever- whatever you want.” His quivering hips buck, spearing you all the way down his long length in one slide, and making your clit greet the small tufts of brown hair at his base deliciously.
He fills you so fully, he’s reaching in places you’ve never felt before. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and your walls flutter in response. “Use you?” Your echo falls on deaf ears because one look at Minghao tells you he’s gone. His mind is too much of a gooey mess, but he must have an inkling because his head nods pathetically.
You’re so warm, wrapped snuggly around his shaft, and pulsing so sweetly that he is ruined for anyone else. If he had a crush before, he’s not surviving whatever he will be after this. “I-” you feel so good, he’s going to confess his feelings right here and right now, but his brain short-circuits when you move.
Oh fuck.
He doesn’t need to tell you twice, before you set a brutal pace, bouncing on his cock so deliciously that his lips stay parted in pleasure. Each slam of your ass meeting his thighs has tears welling up in his eyes, and your moans growing in volume. Minghao can only grab the sides of your thighs to ground him to reality, his head dropping back in ecstasy as wet squelches of your pussy resonate in the room. He’s not going to last. Already worked up by getting a taste of your pretty cunt had him almost cumming untouched, but now that you're gripping him tightly by your gummy walls, he’s crying out in warning. “M’so fucking close, ngh! I- oh fuck, you’re so warm and wet. Please, need you to cum-”
You’re no better than he is, the familiar warmth in your lower stomach spreading as you lean forward to run your fingers through his dark hair, damp with sweat. “Cum for me, want to feel you cum for me, Hao.” You coo, and he sees stars. Splurts of white seed were coming out in small wads every time you took him all the way to the hilt, and your confession only has his hips pathetically bucking upwards.
“Shouldn’t-” his tongue feels too heavy, you feel too good. “Wan’ you-” his words slur and his nails dig into your legs, leaving crescent-shaped marks that have your pussy clenching obscenely. “Need you to cum f’me, please.”
“Minghao,” you say his name, and his eyelashes flutter, trying to stay open, but you weren’t having any of it. All five fingers of your hand wrap around his milky colored throat, not putting pressure, but having enough weight to get his cock twitching deep inside. “Fill me up, cum f’me, Hao.”
Before you can move back up, Minghao’s clutching to you with unknown strength, his hips slamming up into you as his spills hot globs of syrupy seed inside your fluttering pussy. The feeling of his seed sloshing inside you only makes Minghao gasp for air, the white slop overfilling your pussy and forming a creamy ring around his base as you keep rocking back and forth in his lap.
You don’t show any signs of stopping, your velvety walls swallowing his cock to overstimulation that it brings tears to his eyes.
And Minghao is more than happy to use the other hour of the studio if it’s like this. He’ll fill the rest of his portfolio easily now, his eyes dazedly watching your tits bounce with every movement as his cum drips down his heavy balls and onto the loveseat underneath him.
A/N: Guys, this took me forever, but I also hope that shows. It was really fun world-building my nerdy!svt au and making Hao's lore.
Talk to me, tell me if you liked it or if you didn't. Comment, reblog, and tell me, or tell me in the tags! I see hearts as bookmarks, if the void echoes back, then let me say it first: this made me giggle sm and I'm happy I got a request for this!
thank you: @woncheolisms for reading this multiple times for me <3
𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒆. “Em algum momento 𝗛𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗹 se tornou uma
fantasia conjunta e recorrente demais para ser ignorada.
Entre você e 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗼, era um nome doce, que escorria
luxúria caso fosse gemido no momento certo.”
─── 𝗯𝗳! 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗼 × 𝗹𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗮 × 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗼𝗻.
𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗚✷𝗥𝗜𝗔: smut. 𝗣𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗩𝗥𝗔𝗦 : 11.475.
𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗦✷𝗦: chwe hansol marmita de casal, uso
recreativo de drogas (maconha), quebras temporais,
a leitora e o hao são diabólicos, hansol sub patético,
penetração (vaginal & anal), m×m (o minghao come
o hansol), feminização, degradação & oral (f & m).
─── 𝗡✷𝗧𝗔𝗦: é hoje né, juliette? o beijo triplo.
A fumaça dançando em espirais no ar rente aos seus olhos incorporou amargor ao hálito quente dele. Você gostava do modo como as coisas pareciam se tornar mais demoradas quando estava nesse estado, porque, ainda que tivesse urgência em sentir tudo de uma vez, queria se lembrar dos detalhes depois. Os cílios de Hansol tremulam e você sorri com a incoerência que é ele ter olhos tão inocentes, não se aguenta, aproveita a proximidade para roubar mais um selinho quente dos lábios rosados.
Os três espremidos juntos demais para um sofá tão grande, você nem precisou esticar muito o braço para apanhar o cigarro que descansava entre os dedos do seu namorado. Compartilhavam tudo ali — a maconha, a fumaça, Hansol. Por isso, tragou devagar, as pálpebras pesando, porém não ao ponto de se fecharem. Queria contemplar a maneira com a qual Minghao agora também sorvia os lábios do outro homem. Desacostumada em ocupar o lugar da pessoa que observa de fora, era inevitável não se questionar se ele fazia daquela forma com você também, se era tão intenso, quase agressivo.
Minghao pressiona os dedos cobertos de tatuagens contra o maxilar de Hansol. Previsível, quer tomar o controle e o mais novo é tão maleável, tão receptivo, parece perdidinho no beijo indecente. A língua preenche a boca estreita num movimento lento, faz um estalinho soar ao pé do ouvido. Você retorce as pernas meio inquieta e coloca uma das coxas sobre o colo de Vernon — em tão pouco tempo, já cansava-se de só olhar, exigia um pouco de carinho também. Num gesto que insinuava que os seus pensamentos não eram tão silenciosos quanto você imaginava, Hansol corre os dedos esguios pela sua pele. Ele aperta, o toque é gelado. Também parecia cansar-se de só receber, inclinando a cabeça contra a de Minghao para mamar o músculo inquieto.
Sua boca encheu-se de saliva com a cena, era incomum, normalmente sentia a garganta secar quando fumava. Expulsou a fumaça presa nos seus pulmões pela boca, uma risadinha baixa escapando ao notar o desespero de Hansol em continuar beijando quando Minghao começou a se afastar. Ele também percebe, acaba rindo junto.
“Desde quando?”, Vernon murmura lambendo os lábios. Você demora a registrar a pergunta, olhando de relance para seu namorado na esperança de que ele tenha entendido — sem sucesso, no entanto.
“Desde quando o quê?”
“Isso.”, gesticula vagamente, um sorriso de canto no rosto. “Vocês dois.”
Minghao recupera o cigarro das suas mãos para ocupar a própria boca, indiretamente deixando claro que a função de responder essa pergunta ficaria com você. O problema, no entanto, era que o estado de relaxamento no qual a cannabis te deixava, não te permitia pensar tão profundamente sobre a questão. Das poucas memórias que tinha em mente, nenhuma mostrava o momento exato no qual a situação virou do avesso, pois a atração reprimida parecia já estar presente em todas as suas lembranças.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Na sua primeira memória, lembrava-se de ajustar os anéis espalhados entre os dedos enquanto retornava à sala, encarou os sapatos ao lado da porta — colocaria-os antes de sair. A cabeleira escura rente ao sofá não te pegou desprevenida, tinha a impressão de ter escutado o momento exato no qual Hansol entrou enquanto ainda terminava de se maquiar. Sentou-se perto dele, as pernas descansando meio de lado no sofá. O olhar de curiosidade que ganhou já era esperado — sempre muito expressivo. Assistiu-o tragar o cigarro que tinha na mão, talvez quisesse acalmar o nervosismo.
Nem esperou que o beck estivesse fora da boca dele para pegá-lo com as pontas dos dedos, tragando-o com um olhar firme. Dividir não era esquisito, porém era incomum que você não dividisse com seu namorado. Um ruído abafado ecoou ecoou na cozinha e Minghao murmurou algo para si mesmo, como um lembrete sonoro de que ele estava ali. Se questionada, você não era capaz de nomear uma ocasião sequer na qual ficou completamente sozinha com Hansol, entretanto, nesses momentos de meia solitude, constantemente se pegava estranhando o comportamento recluso dele — como se não tivesse coragem de iniciar uma conversa contigo por conta própria.
Por mais que não parecesse ser esse o caso, tinha sim certa intimidade com ele. Fruto da presença constante do homem no apartamento, sua relação com Hansol se tornou próxima relativamente rápido. O hábito de fins de semana começou como um “esquenta” ocasional antes de sair para algum lugar mais movimentado, porém passou a ser tradição quando vocês três notaram que ficar de molho juntinhos no sofá do seu namorado às vezes acabava por ser mais divertido que qualquer barzinho superfaturado.
“Você que escolheu?”, perguntou soltando a fumaça, referia-se à canção que tocava na TV. “O Hao nunca me mostrou essa.”
“Acho que combina com você.”, sorriu ameno, esticando-se para pegar a garrafinha de cerveja que havia deixado na mesinha de centro. “Veio de sugestão logo depois daquele álbum que você me mostrou.”, justificou a impressão.
“Fica esperto que daqui a pouco ela vai falar que essa daí é ruim também.”, Minghao ironizou ainda na cozinha, certamente ouvia a conversa desde o início. Era uma piada interna que existia a umas boas semanas. Bastou que Hansol surgisse animado demais com um álbum que claramente não combinava contigo para que você suspeitasse de todas as sugestões dele dali para frente. Provocá-lo é divertido, ele não é do tipo reativo, porém claramente se esforça para retrucar quando você tenta.
“Tsc.”, Vernon estalou a língua no céu da boca, o rosto franzindo numa irritação forjada. “Não é ruim. É porque ela é teimosa.”, proferiu a última palavra com gosto, insistia no adjetivo faz um tempo — já havia notado que te tirava do sério.
“Teimoso é você que não admite esse seu mau gosto.”, você sorriu ofendida, segurando o xingamento no fundo da garganta, porque sabia que era admitir derrota.
“Você escuta escondida que eu sei.”, ele levou a garrafa de cerveja até a boca para esconder o sorriso provocativo, os olhos cravados nos seus enquanto bebia. “Me avisa quando você deixar de ser orgulhosa, ‘tá bom?”, murmurou antes de dar um segundo gole.
“E se ir foder?”, mordeu o canto da bochecha assim que viu Hansol sorrir. Já que havia perdido o equilíbrio, ao menos não queria dar o gostinho de sorrir junto. “Quando você for me avisa, ‘tá bom?”, replica a forma cínica de falar. Ele parece ponderar mais um comentário ácido dentro da própria cabeça, as sobrancelhas se movendo inquietas. Porém engole o pensamento junto com a cerveja, o semblante se fechando outra vez.
A mudança meio drástica faz você quase se coçar em curiosidade, o jeito dele agir em alguns momentos te desconcerta ao ponto de querer dar solução com as próprias mãos. Havia algo convidativo demais em Hansol e você detestava que ele não te deixasse acessar essa parte.
Minghao, é claro, sabia bem da fixação, afinal nunca foi problema para você ter conversas extremamente abertas com ele. Sua curiosidade com o homem foi compartilhada bem no início do relacionamento e, para seu desapontamento, desencorajada pelo seu namorado sob o argumento de que Vernon era Vernon — existem coisas que nem o próprio Hansol saberia te explicar sobre si mesmo se questionado.
Por isso, resolveu agir por conta própria: apertava um botão diferente toda vez que se encontravam e ansiava pelo tipo de reação que conseguiria conquistar. Estava tão preocupada com o próximo movimento do seu joguinho bobo que sequer pareceu perceber quando seu namorado voltou ao cômodo, assustando-se com a silhueta alta repentinamente perto de você.
“Fez ‘pra mim também?”, forçou um biquinho desapontado ao notar que ele segurava um copo só. Perde o foco com facilidade, a visão enchendo-se com a maneira como a camiseta preta abraçava o torso de um jeito tão sexy, ou como a corrente presa no pescoço parecia convidativa demais. Em certo ponto, já secava o corpo do seu namorado sem vergonha alguma — questionava quanto tempo aguentaria na boate antes de arrastar ele de volta para a sua cama.
“Esse aqui é ‘pra nós dois. A vodka acabou.”, ele justificou, apoiando um dos braços adornados de tatuagens no encosto do sofá logo atrás da sua cabeça, a outra mão ainda ocupada com a bebida. “Você é tão linda.”, murmura baixinho, roçando os lábios nos seus, como se quisesse que só você escutasse. O perfume masculino te sufoca um pouco, mas é gostoso — te faz prestar atenção nele, somente nele.
A pontinha da língua brincando com o seu lábio superior arranca um sorriso da sua boca, não resiste ou mesmo deixa que ele provoque mais, ergue a cabeça para abocanhá-lo. O beijo dele é caracteristicamente lânguido, molhado na medida certa — ‘afrodisíaco’ se você fosse acrescentar à definição, sempre te fazia carente demais.
Envolveu o rosto masculino com as mãos e ao soar de mais um estalinho melado já havia esquecido-se completamente de que não estavam sozinhos, o esfregar safado da língua dele na sua parecia muito mais relevante. Aproveita-se da distração para tirar o boné que decorava a cabeça do homem, jogando-o em algum ponto atrás do sofá — o cabelo de Minghao estava lindo, não entendia a insistência dele em escondê-lo.
Você sente sua língua ser sorvida com um pouco mais de força e acaba gemendo baixinho, o sorriso dele cresce contra os seus lábios e te faz rir também. Ele te enche de selinhos cálidos para dar fim à situação, era o único que parecia se dar conta de que vocês tinham companhia. Porém, a ideia logo é refutada:
“Essa é a parte que eu vou embora?”, Hansol ironiza, o rosto contorcido numa expressão falsa de nojo.
“Quer um também?”, Minghao rebate sem pestanejar, já encarando-o. Por instinto, você também desvia o olhar na direção de Hansol. Soa como ingenuidade da sua parte, mas, de início, não consegue nomear a razão pela qual os olhos dele parecem duas vezes maiores, prestes a saltar do rosto. Porém, assim que nota a ambiguidade descarada na pergunta do seu namorado, seus olhos também crescem.
O quê ele pensou que Minghao estava oferecendo?
Você morde um sorriso arteiro dentro da boca, não sabe se Hao fez de propósito, mas também não quer deixar Hansol ainda mais encabulado — a base do pescoço do homem já estava avermelhada. Volta a olhar seu namorado outra vez. Sim, Minghao sabe exatamente o que fez. A urgência em rir se torna ainda mais difícil de segurar.
“Mas a vodka não acabou?”, sua voz até mesmo sobe alguns oitavos num nível de sonsice que só quem te conhece muito bem seria capaz de identificar. O jeito que a ficha cai para Hansol é praticamente audível, você jura que conseguiu escutá-lo engolir seco.
“Dá ‘pra fazer com tequila. Só que você não gosta.”, seu namorado justifica, tão fingido quanto você.
“Quer, Hansol?”, volta a encará-lo, o pescoço dele agora completamente vermelho. O homem nega com a cabeça, claramente dando o máximo de si para fazer pouco da situação. Bebe um gole da garrafinha de cerveja, como se quisesse demonstrar que não precisa de outra bebida. “Uma pena.”, você lamenta baixinho. Faz questão de olhá-lo nos olhos antes de apertar o próximo botão, porque sabe que conseguiria o veredito que buscou por tanto tempo: “Ele faz muito gostoso.”, a voz carregava sugestividade, bebeu cada pequena expressão de Hansol a partir disso.
Finalmente entendeu e havia algo curioso no fato da resposta só vir porque esse botão em específico não foi exatamente apertado por você. Minghao, que se esquivou da situação logo de início, era justamente a engrenagem que faltava.
[...]
E ainda que não soubesse responder a pergunta de Hansol a partir do que aconteceu naquela noite anterior, mesmo que não fosse capaz de determinar desde quando a tensão existia, ao menos tinha a plena certeza do momento no qual ela se tornou real, tangível. É engraçado pensar em como dois ou três segundos de ambiguidade trouxeram mais respostas que qualquer outra coisa que você tenha feito até ali, pois eles abriram margem para que você quase tivesse certeza da única possibilidade que ainda não tivera coragem de questionar seu namorado sobre.
Na sua segunda lembrança, você já sabia que a questão com Hansol ia além de compartilhar um gosto musical parecido ou um drink favorito no bar. O “algo” incógnito que misturava-se no meio de todas as interações tinha nome — talvez, porém, a incógnita fosse só sua, afinal Minghao não parecia questionar ou ao menos estranhar qualquer coisa. E é muito provável que somente ele fosse capaz de te responder.
“Que foi?”, a pergunta acompanhou um risinho curioso, deve ter percebido que você estava o encarando demais fazia um tempo. Você remexeu as pernas inquieta, não conseguia ir para muito longe, porque sentia-se dependente do calor da pele dele. Ainda era madrugada, os dois preguiçosos demais para levantar e desligar o ar-condicionado. Você respirou fundo, apesar da inquietude, não se sentia nervosa, afinal acreditava piamente que não havia informação que não poderia ser tirada de Minghao numa conversa pós-sexo.
“Acho que nunca te perguntei isso…”, hesitou por meio segundo, correndo as unhas pelo peitoral exposto. “Qual é a sua com o Hansol?”, você poderia jurar que a expressão que surgiu no rosto dele era de sarcasmo.
“Como assim qual é a minha com o Hansol?”, apertou as sobrancelhas, uma confusão obviamente dissimulada.
“Vocês sempre foram só amigos?”, acrescentou à indagação. A esta altura a sua desconfiança não era mais segredo.
“Sim.”
“Nada além disso?”,a resposta dele não te satisfaz, sequer pareceu pensar nela.
“Como assim nada além disso?”
“Você vai ficar só repetindo minhas perguntas ou o quê…?”, suspira exasperada e Minghao dá risada, claramente se divertindo com a situação.
“Só quero que você seja clara, meu amor.”, ele banca o inocente, curvando o pescoço para deixar um beijinho casto na sua testa.
Deixou que um silêncio proposital pairasse entre vocês dois, detestava quando Minghao resolvia se fazer de sonso, afinal ele sequer tentava fingir o contrário.
“Vocês já ficaram?”, e dessa pergunta não havia como fugir. Ou talvez:
“Se tá querendo conversar sobre isso, a gente vai ter que dar um jeito nesse seu ciúme retroativo primeiro.”, o modo comedido de falar faz com que você se sinta genuinamente ofendida — detestava que ele soubesse tão bem como pisar no seu calo.
“E quem disse que é ciúmes?”
“Então o que é?”, o braço dele em volta do seu torso te aperta um pouco mais.
“Interesse.”, dá de ombros. “Só tô curiosa.”, empenha-se em agir com indiferença, mesmo sabendo que não dava para enganar.
“É complicado pensar em qualquer coisa além de amizade com um cara que eu basicamente vi crescer.”, ele desvia o olhar para o teto, fingindo ponderar sobre a situação.
“Vocês têm quase a mesma idade.”, a justificativa dele pareceu exatamente o que ela era: outra tentativa de fugir do assunto.
“Ainda é esquisito.”, ele rebateu. “Ele era um moleque na primeira vez que a gente se falou.”
“Mas não é mais.”, foi sua vez de retrucar. Você já tinha sua resposta só observando o jeito que Minghao estava testando sua paciência ao invés de ir direto ao ponto, porém, ainda assim, não se deixaria vencer.
“Isso não é mais um caso de você tentando achar coisa onde não tem?”, ele já sorria abertamente, a pirraça era óbvia.
“Me diz você.”, rebateu a provocação. “Ou você vai continuar ignorando a pergunta ‘pra não ter que responder?”, era sua última tentativa de desafiar antes que perdesse a compostura de uma vez. Ele apertou os olhos para observar sua expressão, quase os fechando, como se estivesse constatando que não dava mais para se esquivar.
“Como que ‘cê faz isso, hein?”
“Intuição feminina.”, ergue as sobrancelhas em arrogância.
“A gente já ficou.”, confirma enfim.
“Mas ficaram ficaram ou…?”, você inclina a cabeça para deixar a insinuação mais óbvia. Minghao ri baixinho, negando com a cabeça.
“Foi um beijo. Uma vez só.”
“E o beijo foi gostoso?”, você morde o interior da sua bochecha, a curiosidade se transformando em fascínio, poderia jurar que a sua pele esquentou — nem conseguia se importar mais com o frio.
“Eu ‘tava chapado, amor…”, praticamente ronronou.
“E isso nunca afetou sua memória.”, não foi difícil perceber a clara intenção de desviar do tema outra vez. A recusa de Minghao inflou ainda mais seu interesse, queria entender o que havia demais em relembrar. “Tá se fazendo, é?”, alfinetou.
“Foi bom.”, admitiu, a expressão meio impenetrável.
“Melhor que o meu?”, sorria desde que a pergunta surgiu na cabeça, gostava de colocá-lo contra a parede só para achar graça.
“E não é ciúme retroativo?”, soou entediado.
“Só ‘tô enchendo seu saco.”, você gargalha abertamente, esticando-se para beijar o maxilar dele como compensação.
“Ele era meio desengonçadinho…”, torceu o nariz ao fim da frase, não era um homem de diminutivos, mas nutria um carinho inegável por Vernon. “Igual a você quando ‘tá bêbada e quer me dar.”, brincou, ainda que mantivesse no rosto uma expressão séria. Você rebateu a implicância com um tapinha.
“E ele ‘tava bêbado por acaso?”
“Chapado também.”, corrigiu. Brincava com o seu cabelo num carinho disperso. “Não era minha primeira vez com um cara, mas acho que foi a dele.”
“Você faria de novo?”, finalmente perguntou o que interessava, o que queria saber desde o começo.
“Eu tenho namorada, sabia?”, Minghao ironizou, a feição de quem prendia o riso.
“Eu não vou ficar brava se você admitir que tem tesão nele, amor.”, assegurou aconchegando-se mais no corpo dele. O comentário não passou por filtro algum na sua cabeça, habituada a ser sincera com Minghao.
“Eu nunca disse que-”
“Mas pensou, não pensou?”, interrompeu, não queria dar espaço para que ele entrasse em outra espiral de enrolação. “E se a sua namorada que, por sinal, é muito generosa, deixasse você fazer de novo?”, um beijinho cálido foi deixado no peito dele junto da expressão mais doce que você sabia fazer. Minghao, por sua vez, mal esboçou reação — seu jeito desinibido não era exatamente uma novidade.
“Daí eu pensaria que a minha namorada que, por sinal, é muito gostosa, tem algum fetiche que ela não ‘tá querendo me contar.”, espremeu os olhos em desconfiança. “Qual a sua com essa história? Tem tesão nele também?”
Também.
Você tentou não deixar transparecer que a confissão velada no ‘também’ te deixou animadinha, porém falhou miseravelmente. O jeitinho que sua expressão mudou fez Minghao prestar atenção no que havia dito.
“Eu? Claro que não, ‘mô.”, forçou uma vozinha dissimulada.
“Sua cara de safada não ‘tá ajudando, só ‘pra te avisar.”, ele segurou seu maxilar entre os dedos, ainda não sabia se gostava ou desgostava de quando você agia sonsinha desse jeito. “Faz tempo?”
“Desde que prestei atenção em vocês.”, admitiu mais rápido do que gostaria, as palavras meio emboladas com o aperto leve no seu rosto. “Vocês são bonitinhos um com o outro.”
“Bonitinhos…?”, ele replicou a mesma entonação usada por você, forçando uma cara de desgosto.
“Uhum. Parecem um casalzinho.”, fez dengo, não sabe o porquê — o olhar que o homem te direcionava dava vontade de abaixar as orelhinhas, se submeter. Inclinou a cabeça para abrigar o polegar dele dentro da sua boca e Minghao deixou que você chupasse o dígito devagarinho. “Eu até teria ciúmes se não ficasse tão molhada.”, confessou mesmo que fosse complicado falar de boca cheia e não demonstrou surpresa quando seu namorado retraiu o dedo ao fim da confissão — já esperava por isso.
“Eu aqui sendo fiel até em pensamento enquanto você ‘tá pensando em transar com ele, _____?”, esforçou-se muito para parecer ofendido, porém você conhecia-o até demais para cair na encenação. Sabia o quanto ele tinha gostado do que ouviu.
“Não.”, precisou corrigi-lo: “Eu ‘tô pensando em você transando com ele.”, também decidiu encenar seriedade, o tom de quem fala de algo realmente importante. “É diferente.”
“Ah é?”, esfrega a língua no lábio inferior, emaranhando o cabelo da sua nuca entre os dedos.
“Uhum.”, você concorda cheia de manha, o olhar preso na boquinha babada. A mente divaga fácil, não sabe se pelo climinha gostoso que não parecia ter se dissipado depois da foda de vocês, porém sabe que sequer raciocina ao deixar que mais um pensamento rompa as paredes da sua cabeça: “Como você acha que ele te beijaria agora?”
“Isso é uma pergunta séria?”, ele franze a testa, um risinho nasal escapando.
“Óbvio.”, você debocha, se livrando do aperto no seu cabelo e já ajustando a posição, colocando-se de quatro em cima do corpo do homem. “Assim. Finge que eu sou ele.”
“Meio difícil…”, o olhar desceu para observar o balançar dos seus seios com a mudança repentina de postura, mordendo a boca num sorriso sem-vergonha. Você fingiu tédio, um revirar de olhos que acabou por fazer vocês dois rirem. Surgiu rapidamente com uma solução, usando uma das mãos para cobrir a visão dele.
“Pronto?”, sussurrou o questionamento. Minghao sorriu ao concordar, talvez zombando na própria mente do quão ridícula era toda a situação.
Você roçou a pontinha do nariz contra a dele, mas logo afastou-se — não sabe se Hansol faria isso. Era esquisito propositalmente fugir do seus rituais com a boca de Minghao na sua, beijar como outra pessoa. Tentou replicar exatamente o contrário do que normalmente faria. Sorveu os lábios volumosos para dentro da sua boca como se houvesse receio, mal usava a língua para brincar com a dele.
“Assim?”, nem se afastou ao sussurrar, sentia dó de romper o fiozinho molhado que conectava as bocas de vocês.
“Assim não…”, o timbre arrastadinho fez sua pele vibrar.
“Como?”
“Mais rápido. Apressadinho.”, lambeu os lábios ao sorrir, sugando o pouquinho da sua saliva para dentro do próprio paladar.
“Acho que agora ele já sabe ir mais devagar, amor.”, esfrega a boquinha contra a dele outra vez, era gostoso brincar com o controle da situação. “Faz tempo, não faz?”, se refere ao beijo deles dois e Minghao concorda num murmúrio. “Ele deve beijar com calma agora.”, seu corpo arrepia, é estranhamente excitante pensar no jeitinho meio largado de Hansol. “Principalmente chapado…”, é sua vez de morder o lábio. “Chapado ele deve beijar mais gostoso…”
“Você acha?”, Minghao questiona, o sorriso tentando mascarar o jeito que ele suspira com o pensamento.
“Acho.”, coloca a pontinha da língua para fora, lambendo o canto da boca dele. “É tão gostosinho quando fica alto… tem carinha de ser safado.”, sua mão livre aperta o ombro do namorado, o corpo já dava sinais de inquietude de tanto tesão. “Aposto que te deixa cuspir na boca dele.”, murmura essa parte mais baixinho, julga ser controverso demais até para você.
“Amor…”, o tom é de alerta, mas ele suspira outra vez. Você sente o colchão se mover brevemente, Minghao não conseguia mais deixar o quadril quieto em cima da cama. Era nítido o que sentia.
“Não quer cuspir na boquinha dele, amor?”, provoca, a vozinha mansa.
“Você é uma pervertida do caralho.”
“E você é um santo.”, revira os olhos ainda que ele não pudesse vê-los. A mão atrevida desliza sobre o abdômen, logo encontrando a ereção coberta pelo edredom — acordada demais para alguém que não deveria estar nem minimamente excitado com toda essa situação. Seu namorado sorri, erguendo-se para estocar de levinho contra a palma.
“Não sei se ele me deixaria cuspir…”, entra no joguinho instigante. Você acha que seu coração vai sair do peito por alguma razão, sentia que era errado ‘pra caralho e que, ainda assim, precisava de muito mais.
“Por quê não?”
“Era todo metódico com a ex dele.”, a voz trêmula um pouco, pois sua mão pressiona o caralho coberto com certa força. “É porque você não sabe das histórias ainda, amor.”
“Sei que ele não gostava dela de verdade pelo jeito como as coisas terminaram.”, estica os dedinhos para sentir as bolas cheinhas um pouquinho mais abaixo, muito mais interessada nelas que na conversa. “Talvez fosse por isso.”
“E ele gosta de mim por acaso?”, sorriu como se a ideia fosse ridícula.
“Ele não tem nojinho de você.”, justifica. “Ou da sua saliva.”, abaixa-se para lamber os lábios dele outra vez. “Porra, gostoso ‘pra caralho ver vocês dividindo um. Vontade de mamar os dois.”, os braços se arrepiam só de mencionar e sente a necessidade repentina de fechar as perninhas, porém tem o corpo grande preso bem no meio delas. Sentiu as sobrancelhas dele se movendo sob a palma da sua mão, ainda deveria estar um tanto chocado com a sua naturalidade em falar sobre isso — mas o caralho pulsando embaixo da sua pele ainda garantia a certeza de que era um choque bom.
“Você ‘tá gostando demais dessa história.”, riu baixinho, o comentário saindo fraquinho. “Tá quase parecendo que não é brincadeira.”
“É só brincadeira ‘pra você?”
“Talvez seja.”
Ah, claro. Claro que sim.
Quis mostrar o quão nítido era o tom de brincadeira da situação quando afastou a coberta, expondo o pau vermelhinho que quase pingava porra sem que você mal tivesse feito alguma coisa. Os dedos escorrem pelas veias dilatadas, apertando com cuidado na tentativa de fazer ele babar mais um pouquinho.
“Então você nunca pensou em encher aquela boquinha, amor? Igual ‘cê faz comigo?”, largou a extensão com pressa, levando a palma da mão até a boca e esfregando a língua babujada por tudo que conseguiu para deixar a superfície meladinha. Com pressa, envolveu o caralho pesado entre os dedos, foi mais fácil estimular dessa vez. O barulhinho da punheta tornou-se mais explícito, os estalinhos molhados faziam sua pele arrepiar. “Aposto que vai ser o primeiro pau que ele vai mamar. Vai ficar todo atordoadinho.”, a provocação é insolente, não há vergonha.
O jeito que, mesmo em silêncio, Minghao parecia se entregar à fantasia fez algo pulsar dentro do seu estômago. Ele arfava baixinho, o quadril erguendo-se da cama de um jeito quase imperceptível para estocar contra a sua mão. Você diminui a velocidade, concentrando-se em brincar com a boca dele dessa vez. Chupa devagarinho, afasta-se para provocar, faz as línguas se encontrarem fora da boca numa foda dengosa.
“... ou você quer ele sentando no seu pau?”, questiona molinha com as próprias palavras. Imagina se a manha de Hansol sentando nele seria tão excitante quanto nos seus pensamentos. A entradinha já se baba inteira, faz escorrer pelas coxas e você lamenta num muxoxo inaudível a impossibilidade de dar carinho a ela. “Quer, Hao? Só um pouquinho.”, questiona num gemidinho, sentia-se tão sensível. “Aposto que ele senta gostosinho…”
“Porra, cala a boca…”, a voz rouquinha mal sai da garganta. Ele se contorce desajeitado, a cabecinha gorda vazando sem parar. Sua boca se encheu de saliva com a cena. Recolhendo o líquido com o polegar só para esfregá-lo na pontinha outra vez.
Você move o corpo para mais perto, deitando-se junto ao homem e encaixando a bucetinha na lateral do quadril dele. Esfregou-se ali toda manhosa, era nítido que já não aguentava mais a vontade de se tocar. Choramingava para si mesma de tanto tesão, se era vontade de dar bem gostoso pro seu namorado ou de assistir Hansol deixando ele fraquinho como agora, você não tinha mais certeza. Roça o grelinho com mais força contra a pele dele, o estômago revirando com a vontade de gozar.
“Apertadinho, assim… Porra…”, lamuriou burrinha ‘pra caralho. Esforçava-se com tudo o que tinha para continuar judiando do pau do namorado, mesmo que a mão já tivesse se tornado desleixada, sem controle algum do movimento. Você lambe qualquer pedacinho de pele que se coloca ao seu alcance, sugando marquinhas vermelhas no peitoral dele.
Minghao agarrava sua cintura numa força desmedida, machucando um pouco da pele. Estocava bruto contra a sua palma, os gemidos desconexos pareciam mais e mais com o nome daquele que sequer estava presente para sanar o desejo de vocês dois.
“Goza ‘pra ele, goza.”, pede rouquinha, meio desesperada. Precisava muito que Minghao chegasse lá, pois não aguentaria dar conta do próprio tesão sozinha. “Bem fundo… Por favor…”, não era surpresa que já se babava um pouquinho. Tontinha, estúpida. Tinha a visão cheia de lágrimas quando Minghao veio. Pra caralho. O líquido esbranquiçado se espalhando pelo abdômen dele numa bagunça quente. A cabeça girando ainda te deixou perceber quando o nome dele saiu num gemido nítido da boca do seu namorado.
Soou necessitado, cheio de vontade. Numa confissão indiscutível que aquilo não acabaria ali.
[...]
Nem mesmo a madrugada que finalmente levou vocês três à situação de agora parecia conter alguma resposta. Sua cabeça ainda registrava a coisa inteira como um borrão — seja por ter álcool demais no seu sangue, fumaça demais nos seus pulmões, ou calor demais no seu corpo. Do ponto que se lembra, a noite já havia consumido o senso moral de quase todo mundo presente no ambiente, era o tipo de lugar que te fazia sentir a liberdade de ser outra pessoa.
Você não havia bebido tanto quanto gostaria, pois sabia se aproximar da situação com experiência. Tinha a habilidade de se intoxicar somente o suficiente para nublar seu julgamento, já que sempre preferiu ter que lidar com as consequências algum tempo depois — não quis dar ao seu cérebro a chance de pensar racionalmente. Além disso, tinha dividido um beckzinho com os dois no início da noite num cantinho perto do banheiro, não curtia misturar tanto.
Engoliu seco outra vez, definitivamente precisava beber alguma coisa — nem que fosse um refri. No entanto, não tinha dentro de si a coragem de se mover, não sentindo Minghao apertar seu corpo com tanto gosto. Movia-se junto dele num balanço que sequer se atrevia a chamar de dança, era puro pretexto para sentir a pele dele roçando na sua. O peitoral colado nas suas costas estava quente, mas talvez não tão quente quanto o quadril pressionado contra a sua bunda. Já haviam chegado no ponto da noite no qual sempre davam uma desculpa para sumir — seja para casa ou para qualquer banheiro vazio que encontrassem.
O homem deixou que a respiração cálida ardesse contra o seu pescoço, inclinando-se para sorver a pele entre os lábios e as mãos apertaram suas coxas com tamanha posse que um choramingo baixinho acabou escapando da garganta. Rebolou contra ele sem discrição alguma, a esta altura já não se importava tanto com quem estava em volta. Os olhos ameaçavam se fechar, a ereção encaixadinha na sua bunda arruinando o pouco do autocontrole que restava na sua mente.
Foi quando ele apareceu.
Nem teria notado a presença de Vernon se não fosse a mudança na energia do seu namorado, os dedos esguios se fechando em volta da sua cintura num aperto firme como se quisesse te avisar. Hansol havia sumido um pouco depois de vocês se acomodarem no barzinho mais ao fundo da boate — não era incomum, ele costumava dar as próprias fugidinhas com seja lá quem chamasse a atenção dele. O cabelo já não estava tão arrumadinho como no começo da noite e, mesmo que sua visão estivesse nublada, você poderia jurar que reparou uma ou duas manchinhas no pescoço dele que definitivamente te desagradaram.
Foi quando se deu conta.
Surpreendeu-se consigo mesma por notar o ciuminho infantil que fez seu paladar amargar ou, quem sabe, talvez o sentimento correto fosse inveja. Incapaz de determinar propriamente, pois estava acostumada a somente se sentir assim com Minghao faz muito tempo. Ergueu uma das mãos abruptamente, chamando o homem mais novo para perto e o fez tão sem pensar que nem sabe exatamente o que queria com ele. Hansol obedeceu com lentidão num olhar curioso.
“Dança comigo?”, você soprou o pedido num biquinho dengoso, envolvendo o pulso dele num aperto firme. Não sabe o porquê, mas se deixou soar grogue, fingindo que o pedido era fruto de uma embriaguez que você definitivamente não estava sentindo. Nem esperou resposta, os dedos logo se ocuparam em brincar com o cabelo macio para puxá-lo para perto.
Seus braços ergueram-se para enlaçar a nuca dele entre os dedos, arrastando as unhas pelos fiozinhos curtos. A ação por si só fez o estômago repuxar, o jeito que ele te olhava era cobiçoso. Estendeu-se sobre a ponta dos pés num impulso, hesitando por meio segundo antes de pousar um beijinho molhado no canto da boca dele — estava experimentando outra vez, apertando mais um botão. Vernon não se deu ao trabalho de conferir a reação de Minghao, o olhar preso no seu como se já soubesse que aconteceria. Constatar isso te fez sorrir.
Nesse ponto, se o corpo ainda balançava no ritmo da música, é porque Minghao comandava o movimento com as próprias mãos. A sensação da pele de Hansol embaixo dos seus lábios te cegou para qualquer outra coisa, naquele momento, mesmo o gesto mais idiota do mundo conseguia ser excitante se envolvesse ele.
Afogada no próprio desejo, não deteve a urgência de deixar mais um selinho no queixo de Hansol. Dessa vez, demorou-se mais, molhando a pele com a sua saliva, sentindo o sabor salgado do suor que recobria a pele se espalhar no seu paladar. Aquele era o seu jeito silencioso de pedir por ele, mesmo tendo plena consciência de que não deveria estar pedindo, não naquelas circunstâncias. Minghao fechou mais os dedos em volta da sua cintura, num alerta que não surtiu outro efeito senão fazer você se molhar mais um pouquinho.
“Você não ‘tá sabendo brincar, amor.”, o hálito quente foi soprado contra a sua orelha, o volume num meio termo — alto o bastante para ultrapassar o volume da música e baixo o suficiente para que Hansol não escutasse. “Ainda é coisa nossa, hm? Agora não.”, aconselha e é como se as palavras passassem reto pela sua mente. Entorpecida ao ponto de não se importar, o rostinho bonito de Vernon tão perto do seu não estava te ajudando. Quando se deu conta de si, já havia selado o biquinho que ele involuntariamente fazia. Escutou Minghao suspirar no que muito provavelmente era contrariedade. “Porra, ‘tá quase pulando no colo dele, não ‘tá?”, o timbre arrastado denunciava o sorrisinho canalha que ele provavelmente tinha na boca, no fundo, ele sabia que não iria te impedir.
Como uma bonequinha estúpida, você acena com a cabeça em desespero, concordando com o que ele já sabia ser verdade. Vernon pressiona o nariz contra a sua bochecha, a respiração em brasa contra a sua pele. Os olhos fechadinhos tornavam tudo excitante demais, parecia se render à sua vontade — querer o que você quisesse. Sua entradinha se aperta, você não conseguia ignorar mais a babinha escorrendo no tecido da calcinha. Se esfrega com urgência contra o pau coberto atrás de você, praticamente exige que ele dê jeito na sua vontade de sentir prazer, pois não sabe mais o que fazer consigo mesma.
“Isso tudo é tesão?”, Minghao ri logo ao fim da pergunta, acolhe o lóbulo da sua orelha na própria língua, chupando a pele para dentro da boca num estalinho.
Você roça o nariz contra o de Hansol, o desejo desmedido que te corroía fazia o palpitar gostoso no meio das pernas se tornar gradativamente insuportável. Sentia-se degenerada de certa forma, tão compelida a fazer aquilo mesmo que tivesse seu namorado ordenando claramente para que esperasse. Lambeu os lábios para tentar refrear mais uma vez. Porra, tinha tanta certeza que se experimentasse da boca dele agora, iria acabar dando para Hansol ali mesmo. Esfregou a boquinha na do homem num gesto ansioso, sentindo-se mais carentinha só com isso.
Ainda que por pouco, percebeu o toque acanhado se firmando nos seus quadris. Os dedos esguios fizeram pressão sobre a carne, as palmas te acolhendo um pouco mais. Sem aviso, Minghao largou o aperto em volta da sua cintura, porém o calor permaneceu perto. Você observou como as mãos dele envolveram os pulsos de Hansol, puxando o homem mais novo para perto, findando a distância quase que completamente.
Tão rápido entendeu que aquela era sua permissão, logo dominou a boca alheia numa bagunça molhada. Não havia calma, precisava daquilo. Vernon parecia ter dificuldade em acompanhar, suspirava afoito abrindo a boquinha para te deixar tomar o que quisesse dele. Ele arfou amuado ao te sentir se afastando tão rápido e você só o fez porque precisou refrear a própria necessidade de experimentar um pouquinho mais do gosto da língua dele — ou acabaria rendida demais ao impulso de se ajoelhar no chão imundo da boate para provar o gosto de outra coisa.
Puxa o cabelo dele entre os dedos, obrigando-o a expor o pescoço já maculado para você. Faz questão de cobrir as marcas ali existentes com as suas próprias, suga a pele com força, lambe as mordidinhas. Não quer dar a chance de que qualquer mancha no corpo dele não fosse feita por você ou por Minghao.
“Quer dar pro Nonie, quer?”, é como o diabo surgindo nos seus pensamentos, seu namorado ronrona o questionamento bem rente à sua orelha, safado ‘pra caralho. “Não é assim que ‘cê gosta de gemer?”, o timbre destilava veneno, pingava da boca dele para amargar seu paladar. Suas pernas ficam tão fracas com a provocação que quase tem certeza que vai cair. Sujo e prazeroso na mesma medida. Era como se ele quisesse corrigir o pensamento de mais cedo: não era uma incerteza, você definitivamente deveria se sentir degenerada.
Porém, não aceitaria carregar o sentimento sozinha, Minghao era tão ou mais depravado que você nessa história. Se havia virado hábito pensar em Hansol de um jeito tão erótico, ele tinha parte da culpa. Se já era um costume transar com o nome de Hansol tão preso na sua garganta, ele era quem te instigava a chamar pelo outro homem. E se era tão gostoso gozar com a imagem de Hansol na sua imaginação, ele era quem mais se perdia mais no próprio tesão ao fazê-lo.
Estava nítido que vocês questionavam os limites da moralidade — ou haviam parado de questionar, não havia certeza. Em algum momento, Hansol se tornou uma fantasia conjunta e recorrente demais para ser ignorada. Entre você e Minghao, era um nome doce, que escorria luxúria caso fosse gemido no momento certo. A pele arde em vergonha, por isso se contorce entre o corpo dos dois homens na tentativa de fazer a aflição passar.
Os ruídos molhados que soam ao pé do seu ouvido enquanto ainda se ocupa em brincar com o pescoço de Vernon não são exatamente uma surpresa para você, que logo sorri contra a pele dele ao escutá-los. Sua única lamúria, no entanto, é não poder assistir à cena. Deixa uma lufada de ar quente arder contra a derme do homem, olhos também ardendo com o quão febril se sentia. Os estalinhos molhados cessaram por meio segundo e Minghao fecha o punho em volta do seu cabelo tirando-o do caminho para chupar a pele da sua nuca para dentro da boca. Você já gemia baixinho, misturando os nomes numa voz desconexa.
Agarrou a camisa do homem na sua frente, queria o corpo dele mais perto ainda — se é que isso era possível. A outra mão correu até um dos seios cálidos, apertando-o por cima do tecido na tentativa de oferecer a si mesma ao menos um pouco de alívio, suas roupas começavam a te sufocar tanto quanto os dois pares de mãos que não refreavam o movimento na parte mais baixa do seu corpo — quase te fazia temer que a bagunça acabaria levantando sua saia no meio de tanta gente e que a baixa iluminação não seria suficiente para esconder o fato.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Por tudo isso, talvez não fizesse sentido algum tentar limitar o acontecido, afinal a vontade sempre pareceu existir.
Ter Vernon à mercê de vocês dois sempre foi uma questão de tempo.
“Desde quando você notou que também ‘tava a fim?”, devolveu uma nova pergunta na artimanha de se livrar da responsabilidade de responder a dele — definitivamente aprendeu isso com o seu namorado.
“Qual é…”, ele sorri sem graça, talvez não quisesse responder também. “Ficou difícil ignorar. No começo achei que eu ‘tava maluco.”, apoia a cabeça no encosto do sofá, te encarando por baixo dos cílios. “Ou que fiquei chapado demais.”, ele divaga.
“Eu acho que a gente pode pensar nisso depois.”, você murmura, distribuindo selares pelo rosto do homem. “Acho que não faz diferença nenhuma...”, desliza a língua até o pescoço ainda cheio de marcas. Lambe cada manchinha com devoção, enchendo o paladar com o gosto dele. Livrou-o da camiseta assim que chegou à clavícula imaculada — daria conta de marcá-lo ali depois, no momento, sentia sede e queria encher sua boca com outra coisa.
Foi se abaixando em direção ao chão e mordiscava a pele pálida por onde passava, já obcecada no quão sensível o corpo dele se mostrava. Desatou a fivela do cinto dele desengonçada, beijando a ereção por cima do tecido numa devoção cega, faminta por prazer. Quando a impaciência tornou-se demais, livrou-o da calça e da cueca com certa ajuda dele mesmo. Segurou o pau pela base, era bonito e se avermelhava tão fácil quanto o dono. As gotinhas que já se espalhavam pela glande não eram surpresa alguma, já havia ficado óbvio que Hansol era fraco — molhava-se com facilidade.
É sorrateira quando lambe pela primeira vez, faz com calma, só para provar o gostinho do líquido que já escorre. Sensível ‘pra caralho, as pálpebras dele já pesam, os olhinhos querendo se fechar. Tenta de novo, prende a cabecinha entre os lábios dessa vez e experimenta comprimir as bochechas. O buraquinho parece dilatar um pouco, liberando mais porra para dentro da sua boca. Ele levanta o quadril para estocar, mas logo é empurrado de volta. Egoísta, você quer dar conta de tudo sozinha, inicia um sobe-e-desce molhadinho, se deixando babar de propósito.
“Ah, caralho…”, o homem arfa em êxtase. “Isso, porra… assim…”, suplica dengosinho. Jura a si mesmo que está em delírio quando te vê esvaziar a boca num estalinho alto, cuspindo na cabecinha para voltar a engolir tudo de uma vez. E sente que a fantasia dele finalmente se tornou completa quando Minghao se põe de joelhos ao seu lado. Ele morde um palavrão dentro da boca quando você tem a iniciativa de esfregar a pontinha nos lábios do seu namorado, os dois compartilhando um sorrisinho pervertido.
Você o deixa por conta própria de início, ele não costuma ter pressa. Repete quase as mesmas coisas que te viu fazer, suga a cabecinha, cospe, deixa a saliva escorrer, esfrega a língua na lateral… sua paciência, mais curta que a dele, se esvai num segundo. Quando se dá conta, se vê guiando-o a fazer do seu jeito, forçando o caralho encharcado para dentro da boca dele.
Já tinham um saldo de testes interessantes com os seus dildos, porém nada chegava perto da experiência de forçar um pau de verdade na boquinha do seu namorado. Minghao não conseguia ir tão longe quanto você — definitivamente fruto da falta da prática — por isso, deixa essa parte por sua conta. Move-se vagaroso, selando as coxas branquinhas até ser capaz de roçar os lábios nos testículos cheinhos. Experimenta com um só, sorvendo para dentro da boca e mamando devagarinho. Vernon crava as unhas no estofado, grunhindo um palavrão desconexo. Você se perde do prazer de assistir, a língua para fora brinca com a lateral do caralho, sentindo-o latejar.
Assim que Minghao se ocupa em chupar mais um pouquinho, você abocanha a extensão. Solta o ar pelo nariz outra vez, relaxando a garganta para receber a cabecinha sensível dentro dela. Definitivamente consegue fazer ele ir mais fundo que antes, o abdômen de Hansol se apertando sob os seus olhos. É tão gostoso se perder na própria fome que nem nota quando Minghao larga o carinho que fazia mais abaixo para emaranhar os dedos nos seus cabelos, livrando o espaço da sua nuca a fim de deixar uma lambida quente ali. Ele espalha beijinhos por toda a pele, o cafuné que faz na sua cabeça é presunçoso, como se estivesse te recompensando por fazer um bom trabalho.
Tão absorta em sentir o pulsar da piroca quente de Hansol sempre que você ameaçava forçá-la dentro da sua garganta, você custa a perceber que Minghao havia se levantado. No entanto, os estalinhos molhados que mal davam conta de encobrir os gemidos do homem mais novo chamam a sua atenção. Ergue os olhos para assistir a maneira com a qual seu namorado sorve a boca do outro homem com gana, parece dominar até mesmo se Hansol tinha o direito de respirar ou não. A mão adornada de tatuagens brinca com o que encontra pela frente, puxa o cabelo, arranha o pescoço com as unhas curtas, acaricia os peitinhos pequenos.
Ele agarra o pulso de Hansol e afasta um pouco mais as pernas, levando os dedos dele até o próprio pau sem hesitar. Guia, ajuda-o a envolver a extensão contra a palma, socando uma punhetava lentinha com a mão do mais novo que arfa, mal conseguindo retribuir o beijo a esta altura.
“Me fode…”, o sussurro penoso soa baixinho entre a bagunça molhada. Seu namorado sorri, aumentando o ritmo da punheta.
“Fácil assim?”, o mais velho questiona e Hansol parece não entender. “Não curto putinha preguiçosa…”, inicia a explicação, beijando o lábio inferior dele com mansidão. “Tem que fazer por merecer.”, inclina a cabeça na sua direção, deixando bem claro o que queria.
Você larga o pau de Hansol num estalinho molhado, curiosa com que rumo a conversa iria tomar. Minghao já havia livrado o aperto da mão do homem que agora o punhetava por vontade própria. Um brinquedinho muito mais fácil do que vocês haviam calculado, Vernon não demonstra acanhamento algum em se ajoelhar ao seu lado. Você brinca com o cabelo dele, desgrudando os fios da testa suada. Sequer precisa guiá-lo, ele logo encaixa a piroca babona dentro da própria boca sem fazer cerimônia.
Observa tudo tão vidrada quanto seu namorado. Em certo ponto, também força a cabeça de Hansol um pouquinho, testa qual o limite. Gosta de ouvi-lo tossindo, respirando aflito… é especialmente gostoso porque Minghao demonstra orgulho em te assistir realmente fazer o homem de putinha.
“Olha sua cara…”, Hao ironiza num riso baixo. A carência te vence, logo se vê grudada no corpo dele, exigindo carinho. “Gostou de dividir?”
“Ele é afobadinho. Bem que eu te falei…”, desdenha num sussurro. “Parece um virgenzinho.”, a boca se ocupa em mordiscar a orelha do homem.
“Ele- ah…”, a frase é interrompida por um arfar. Corre os dedos pelo cabelo do mais novo, como se quisesse impedir a si mesmo de puxá-lo. “Ele é bom ‘pra cacete, amor.”, é menos comedido com o volume da própria voz, não se importava com o que o outro ouvia ou deixava de ouvir. “Acho que não sou o primeiro pau dele, não.”, sorri lascivo, inclinando a cabeça para procurar sua boca outra vez. O beijo é babujado, sem muito controle ou direção, a intenção é somente sentir o sabor um do outro.
“Brinca nessa bucetinha ‘pra mim.”, ele pede com jeitinho, a boca ainda colada na sua. “Tá toda carente... dá ‘pra perceber de longe.”
“Quero ver vocês.”. Você balança a cabeça para negar, roçando o nariz contra a bochecha dele enquanto aperta as perninhas.
“Quer o brinquedinho ‘pra você agora?”, ele lhe lança um sorriso de quem já sabia e você até tentou se esconder atrás de uma falsa inocência, mas não soube sustentar a atuação. Rendeu-se e concordou com a cabeça toda manhosa, aconchegando o corpo mais pertinho do dele. “Te conheço.”, selou sua boca num riso baixinho. Você retribuiu o carinho, olhando-o nos olhos com uma expressão dócil até que Minghao finalmente concordasse — te dando a permissão de tomar o que você queria.
“Hansol?”, acaricia o cabelo do homem mais novo. Ele ergueu os olhos brevemente ao escutar o chamado, porém não demonstrou prestar atenção realmente, o olhar perdido, desfocado. Parecia tão estúpido por piroca que sinceramente te fazia sentir certa empatia — já que você ficava do mesmo jeitinho com Minghao.
Você abaixa um pouquinho o torso a fim de assistir à cena mais de perto, Vernon enche a boquinha com gosto, parece faminto. Baba o caralho por completo, deixando a saliva escorrer junto com a porra pelo o tecido do sofá. Força até o fim da garganta e perde o controle da própria respiração sempre que o faz.
“Ele vai se melar inteirinho por causa do seu pau, amor.”, você provoca assim que percebe a punheta afoita que ele bate com a mão que não se ocupa com o pau do seu namorado. “Porra, ‘tá até revirando o olho.”, a cena faz você pulsar, definitivamente precisa brincar com ele um pouquinho. “Hansol? Gatinho?”, chama outra vez, finalmente ganhando a atenção que queria.
Ele esvazia a cavidade quentinha, envolvendo o caralho para bater uma lentinha enquanto aproveita para respirar.
“Me beija um pouquinho, Nonie?”, você faz beicinho e Hansol não hesita, estica o pescoço para poder alcançar seus lábios. A posição é desconfortável, mas você não pretende ficar assim por muito tempo. “Nonie…”, interrompe o ósculo num murmúrio, o sabor salgadinho da boca dele te faz sorrir. “Se você me comer direitinho, eu deixo ele te foder... quer?”, abranda ainda mais a voz, tenta tornar a proposta atrativa, quase irresistível. “Ele faz tão gostoso, Hansol. Vai te deixar tão burrinho…”, a doçura não combina com o teor imoral das palavras. “Você quer dar ‘pra ele? Hm?”, busca pela resposta que ainda não conquistou. Hansol está absorto demais, os olhinhos castanhos sustentam um brilho perdido de quem precisa de mais um beijinho babado da sua boca. “Fala comigo ou não deixo mais.”, resolve ser cruel, pois sabe que, dessa forma, não há como continuar ignorando.
“Quero, porra. Eu quero.”
“Quando ele joga dentro é tão gostoso, Nonie... aposto que você quer isso também, não é?”, instiga mais, assistindo o olhar dele se perder outra vez. Os braços se movem num movimento desordenado, não sabe se estimula o outro homem ou a si mesmo.
Foda-se o que Minghao disse. Aos seus olhos Vernon é sim um virgenzinho patético.
“_____.”, balbucia seu nome num gemidinho.
“Merda, ‘cê nem consegue largar o pau dele. É mais putinha que eu.”, ridiculariza a falta de controle e isso o deixa mais desesperado em se tocar.
“E-eu vou gozar…”, confessa cheio de aflição e Minghao ri baixinho, te fazendo lembrar que ele assistia toda a cena.
“Não, não.”, você estica o braço para agarrar o dele, fazendo-o cessar a punheta. “A gente fez um trato, Hansol…”, profere num timbre cheio de irritação e é mais do que suficiente para fazê-lo se levantar do chão todo desengonçado. “Você vai me comer bem gostoso agora. Só deixo o Hao foder contigo se me fizer gozar.”
Hansol se senta ao lado do seu namorado, o pau pulsa sobre a barriga e suja a pele com a babinha esbranquiçada. Minghao morde os lábios e tenta não sorrir tão abertamente — não era habituado a te assistir numa posição de dominância tão explícita, então reparava em toda e qualquer ação sua.
Você se coloca no colo do homem mais novo, chupando lábio de Hansol para dentro da boca num beijo afoito. Os quadris eram inquietos, roçando a intimidade na cabecinha do caralho molhado sem cessar. Tão atordoada para sentir prazer, mal consegue encaixar a camisinha que encontrou na carteira de Minghao segundos antes. Desenrola o látex com pressa, alternando sua atenção entre ele e a maneira com a qual Vernon mama a sua língua cheio de vontade.
Agarra-o pela base para pincelar a ponta na sua bucetinha, quer atiçar, fazer cena, mas desejou isso por tanto tempo que o corpo febril não dá trégua até que você fique recheadinha dele. A extensão lateja e você se aperta toda dengosa, não era muito diferente da do seu namorado, mas definitivamente trazia um senso de novidade delicioso. Experimenta rebolar devagar e sente que vai derreter de tanto tesão, ele também não te ajuda a lidar com a sensação te olha estúpido, burrinho por buceta. Então você busca consolo na única pessoa que sabia lidar com o seu corpo como ninguém: Minghao carrega um sorrisinho malvado no rosto, muito bem acostumado a te ver agir assim.
“O pau dele é gostoso, amor?”, o timbre cheio de mansidão, já se estica para deixar um selinho carente na sua boca. “É?”, insiste e só sossega porque te vê concordar toda caprichosa. Você faz encaixar até a base, relaxando no colo do homem. Foi mais involuntário que qualquer outra coisa, beijar Minghao sempre te tomava parte do foco e era complicado prestar atenção em outra coisa. A babinha pegajosa que se derramava para fora já escorria pelas bolas de um Vernon meio afobado — desesperado em te sentir sentando nele outra vez. Ele tenta tomar para si a função de te dar prazer e aperta seus quadris entre as mãos para estimular um vai-e-vem vicioso.
Você se agarra aos ombros de Hansol, o rebolado errático fazendo o corpo balançar ao que você aperta a bucetinha em volta da extensão. O beijo de Minghao há muito esquecido, tão absorta com o prazer que também não nota quando ele se afasta de vocês dois. A intimidade arde com o estímulo, sinalizando que ia acabar gozando rápido demais, porém, você sequer tenta parar. Enche a boquinha com a língua de Vernon enquanto castiga o pontinho carente no meio das suas pernas.
Quando Minghao retorna ao sofá já segura um cigarro entre os dedos, senta a tempo de assistir sua carinha de choro quando finalmente goza. O orgasmo gostoso, mas muito frustrante — sequer teve tempo de senti-lo o suficiente, só chegou lá por puro tesão acumulado. Vernon perde o controle fácil com a cena e é quando seu namorado intervém:
“Não. Não deixa ele gozar fácil assim.”, ele passa o cigarro para sua boca, aproveitando a mão agora livre para envolver o maxilar de Hansol. “Faz ele segurar.”, aperta sua cintura, mantendo o seu corpo imóvel no colo do mais novo. Hansol choraminga baixinho, tentando se contorcer do jeito que dá. Quando percebe que isso não dá jeito, apela para o rostinho carente, encarando Minghao com carinha de putinho. “Esse truque só funciona quando ela faz.”, seu namorado sorri. “É gostosa ‘pra caralho, não é?”, se aproxima, selando o canto da boca dele. “Tenho certeza que ‘cê queria provar faz tempo.”
“Por favor…”
“Não é ‘pra mim que você tem que pedir.”, usa do aperto no rosto do homem para virá-lo na sua direção.
“Eu preciso… por favor…”, as sobrancelhas se apertam numa expressão penosa. “E-eu faço o que você quiser, eu…”, gagueja. Seu olhar transita entre a expressão desesperada por alívio e o sorriso maldoso do seu namorado. Você traga o cigarro preso entre os seus lábios antes de devolvê-lo para a boca do mais velho. “Me faz gozar…”, a vozinha soa quebradiça, sumindo aos poucos quando te sente soprar a fumaça bem no rosto dele. Alterna a atenção entre ele e seu namorado outra vez.
A sensação quase imediata de moleza que a droga espalha pelo seu corpo faz você se lembrar que se há algo que Minghao te ensinou muito bem a fazer, foi a como ser insuportável.
Levantou-se do colo dele num impulso veloz, desencaixando a extensão de você de uma maneira quase dolorida. Fingiu sequer escutar o gemido lamurioso de Hansol quando se deitou ao lado dele no sofá, as perninhas bem abertas expondo-se para o homem.
“Me chupa um pouquinho, Nonie?”, dissimulada, falsa, enganadora e todos os sinônimos para fingida que existem no mundo. A cintura se mexe inquieta no sofá, finge não ter se apertado inteira só de reparar em como o rostinho de Hansol estava tão desapontado. Porém, como um animalzinho obediente, ele se livra do preservativo e logo se põe no meio das suas pernas. O ângulo parece deixar os olhinhos ainda maiores, mais famintos.
Seu corpo arde em brasa.
A língua dele acaricia o interior das suas coxas, espalha a saliva quente por ali. Nem parece mais se recordar da chateação que sentia quando pressiona o nariz entre as dobrinhas da sua buceta, esfregando a ponta entre os cantinhos. O cheiro o deixa nitidamente estupido, disposto a engolir cada gotinha que você tivesse para oferecer. Tem pressa no modo como substitui o toque pela própria língua, saboreia, esfrega a carne contra o paladar. A bucetinha se entrega a ele, escorre convidativa, pedindo por mais atenção.
Hansol suga o que pode das dobrinhas para dentro da boca, parece até mesmo evitar o grelinho carente de propósito — mas não o faz por maldade, faz porque se sente perdido, quer sorver cada pedacinho. Sua impaciência te vence, puxa o cabelo dele impiedosa, guiando-o até o lugarzinho onde precisa de mais atenção. O grunhido dolorido não te faz sentir pena alguma, afinal só serve para espalhar uma vibração gostosa bem em cima do clitóris macio. Ele mama o pontinho dentro de um biquinho apertado e você se sente pulsar, os olhinhos revirando sem controle algum. A língua escapa, descendo para brincar com o buraquinho inquieto que se contrai assim que também recebe atenção.
Você choraminga e ele deixa a babinha presa na boca escorrer para fora, a intimidade agora completamente escorregadia, pinga tanto que molha até mesmo para a outra entradinha intocada. Ele perde o controle, dividido entre chupar tudo o que consegue e esfregar o nariz ali. Os barulhinhos que ele deixa escapar também contribuem para sua vontade de se deixar molhar inteirinha. Sua bucetinha se rende numa facilidade absurda, extremamente fraca quando beijada com tanto carinho como agora. Desmancha o seu prazer na boca do homem que mal percebe o que fez, afinal já engolia seu melzinho desde que colocou a boca ali.
Puxa-o pelos cabelos novamente, dessa vez para retribuir o beijinho especial com um tão gostoso quanto. Vernon recebe tudo de bom grado, o corpo encaixadinho no seu para te deixar ditar o ósculo. A distração não passa despercebida, Minghao aproveita-se do relaxamento para reposicionar o homem mais novo — o fazendo abrir as pernas brevemente. Hansol tensiona, porém logo respira fundo para colocar os nervos no lugar. O ruído molhado que surge após a ação é quase inaudível e, por um tempo, você se ocupa em escutá-lo gemendo dentro da sua boquinha. Porém, beijar parece se tornar uma tarefa complicada em certo ponto.
“Mama meus peitinhos, relaxa.”, você o guia para se abaixar devagar. A expressão desorientada de Hansol sai do seu campo de visão ao que ele se ocupa em sugar seus seios para dentro da boca macia. Consegue ver Minghao de relance e o quão delicioso ele parece todo concentrado, o braço se move vagaroso, deveria estar abrindo Vernon com jeitinho — sem pressa. O mais novo grunhe baixinho, mais um gemidinho vibrando contra a sua pele.
Seu olhar cruza com o de Minghao, ele te oferece um sorrisinho safado, sem nunca cessar a forma com a qual socava os dedos bem fundo. Ele morde a boca quando desvia o foco brevemente, desacelerando as estocadas. Hansol solta um palavrão baixinho, provavelmente na tentativa de se acostumar com mais um dígito. Se empina involuntariamente e Hao interpreta isso como um convite para enlaçar a cintura dele com o antebraço, erguendo mais o quadril.
A mudança de ângulo faz Hansol soluçar baixinho, o corpo contorcendo-se em surpresa. Minghao agora judiava do pontinho gostoso, massageando até ter o homem se colocando de quatro para sentir mais daquele prazer. De tão inquieto que ficou, já forçava o quadril para trás, se fodendo todo dengoso.
Você sente uma chave virar na sua cabecinha já muito perturbada. A obsessão em assistir Vernon como objeto de prazer parece se multiplicar. É tão excitante ver o jeitinho que ele se entrega, como o corpo treme, como implora baixinho para ter muito mais de algo que mal se acostumou a receber. Os lábios babadinhos nem conseguem se fechar, ao contrário dos olhos que se apertam um pouco mais cada vez que ele vai até o limite, até ficar cheinho.
“Mais, mais… por favor, fode…”, soluça grogue, contido. É incerto se seu namorado ouviu de fato e só há certeza quando o tremor no corpo de Hansol cessa por um tempo, um ruído plástico se mistura na sua audição junto com o arfar do mais novo — sinal que Minghao estava se preparando. Você recolhe o suor do rosto dele com uma das mãos, vendo-o se apoiar nela para buscar conforto como um cachorrinho.
“Você é tão bonzinho, Nonie. Tão obediente…”, elogia mansinha, deleitando-se no quão molhadinhos os olhos dele parecem quando finalmente se abrem. Expõe a língua e Vernon se abaixa para sorvê-la na tentativa de refrear mais um gemido sôfrego.
“Caralho…”, o torso dele cede de repente, deitando-se em cima do seu. As mãos firmes de Minghao foram suficientes para manter o quadril dele no lugar, entretanto. A respiração descompassada no seu pescoço é sinal de que ele finalmente precisa aguentar algo maior. Leva tempo para relaxar e só permanece mansinho porque o cafuné no cabelo dele parece fazê-lo esquecer do incômodo. Os olhinhos voltam a revirar quando Minghao passa a meter lentinho, direcionando cada estocada para o pontinho gostoso que fez ele derreter da primeira vez.
“Tá gostosinho, não tá?”, você murmura mansinha, ouvindo os gemidinhos ficarem cada vez mais evidentes contra a sua pele. “Deixa ele te comer. Shhh, Assim.”, você se estica como pode, puxando os pulsos dele para impedir que o homem se toque. “Quietinho, fica.”, pede outra vez, mas não surte efeito. Vernon remexe a cintura um rebolar desajeitado para continuar se estimulando e tenta roçar a cabecinha do caralho necessitado em qualquer coisa que esteja ao alcance.
“Não consegue gozar só com o cuzinho? Hm?”, Minghao questiona desinibido e você tem certeza que Hansol só não fica mais vermelho porque o corpo inteiro já estava rubro. “Vem aqui então, vem, amor.”, adocica a voz para falar contigo dessa vez, soando mais manso. “Vem dar a bucetinha ‘pra ele de novo.”
Você obedece sem pestanejar, mas permanece deitada, movendo-se só o bastante para ficar mais pertinho de Hansol. Abre as perninhas, expondo a intimidade ainda meio judiadinha. Vernon parece incerto de início, porém enxerga no seu rostinho necessitado que meter só um pouquinho sem usar nada talvez não fizesse tanto estrago — é só ele tirar antes de gozar, não é?
Pincela a entrada do canalzinho antes de se colocar para dentro com lentidão, a ação faz o corpo dele enfraquecer e ele se deita sobre o seu torso assim que consegue entrar por completo.
“Merda, assim eu não vou aguentar…”, soa tontinho, em êxtase. Um sorrisinho grogue de tesão cresce no seu rosto, experimentando outra vez ficar cheinha até a borda do caralho gostoso — é uma pena que ele nem parece saber usá-lo direito.
“Shh, aguenta. Aguenta sim.”, Minghao afirma, também soa desorientado. “Tá apertando tão gostoso, seu filho da puta…”, murmura fraco, não se impedindo de estocar devagarinho. “Sente como ela 'tá meladinha ‘pra você.”, provoca, engolindo em seco para tentar soar menos necessitado. “Ela gostou de te ver dando igual putinha, Hansolie…”
“Cacete…”, o mais novo grunhe rouquinho contra a sua pele, movendo-se para acompanhar as estocadas que logo cessam.
“Fode a bucetinha dela, fode. Tô paradinho ‘pra você.”, ele pede mansinho. “Faz ela gozar.”
Vernon tenta estocar num balanço errático, porém mal tem forças para sustentar o movimento por tempo suficiente, já geme atordoado com o prazer, parando de estocar gradativamente. Um estalo estridente ecoa no ambiente ao que Minghao faz um tapa arder na coxa de Hansol — claramente perdendo o pouco de paciência que ainda tinha.
“Tá gostoso é, porra?”, a pergunta é autoritária e retórica, porém Vernon se sente tão atordoado que tudo que é capaz de fazer é balançar a cabeça. “É isso aqui que você quer, não é?”, volta a estocar devagarinho, empurrando até as bolas para massagear exatamente onde o mais novo precisava. “Então obedece. Fode direito, Hansol.”, cessa o movimento que mal havia começado e ganha um muxoxo desgostoso do outro. “Só vou te comer quando fizer ela gozar.”
“_____, por favor... por favor…”, soa como se quisesse chorar, a cintura fraqueja para tentar foder com o seu buraquinho do jeitinho que você merece — não tem firmeza em estocar.
“Não adianta esse choro todo. Tem que comer a bucetinha dela bem gostoso.”, seu namorado ralha baixinho, tomando o quadril de Hansol entre as mãos para forçá-lo a se mover com mais intensidade. “Soca bem fundo e esfrega lá dentro.”, aconselha, empurrando-o para que o pau dele entre até a base. “Ela gosta de ficar cheinha.”
“Ah porra…”, você suspira, era um inferno que ele te conhecesse tão bem.
“Olha a carinha dela, Vernon. A filha da puta 'tá segurando o orgasmo…”, ele ri rouquinho. “É sinal que você não ‘ta fazendo direito.”, provoca impiedoso, assistindo o mais novo apertar o estofado do móvel entre os dedos. “Você é putinha igual ela, Hansol? Só serve 'pra dar?”, a provocação não surte efeito só no homem, você também se mela mais um pouquinho — o estômago revirando com o quão delicioso é ouvir ele soar obsceno assim. “Posso falar que tô comendo sua bucetinha também então?”, o timbre se torna grave, mas o sorriso sacana ainda é audível. Vernon fraqueja ainda mais, só não cai por já estar jogado em cima do seu corpo. Como um putinho submisso, ele concorda rapidinho com a cabeça, pega vocês dois de surpresa. “Posso mesmo?”, o sorriso que Hao sustenta na boca é cruel, humilhante.
“Merda… pode…”, ele choraminga, move o quadril num rebolado carente — sem conseguir suportar mais o próprio desejo. O seu corpo também responde à toda provocação, se arrepia, treme… até mesmo um gemidinho escapa da garganta. Chama a atenção de Minghao:
“Tá quase, meu amor?”
“Minghao…”, o tom de súplica faz sua garganta arder, você soa quebrada, no limite. A expressão de Minghao parece mudar só de te ouvir tão sensível, franze as sobrancelhas cheio de tesão e o foco muda no mesmo segundo — como se estivesse em transe. O quadril se move por impulso, as estocadas sedentas fazendo o corpo de Hansol chacoalhar, usando-o para te satisfazer como se ele fosse uma extensão de si mesmo.
“Porra, fode…”, o mais novo arfa num soluçar falho, a voz saindo abafada contra a sua clavícula. Vernon te enche com o caralho sensível até a base e a força que Minghao usa para estocar parece contribuir com o jeito que a cabecinha é continuamente forçada bem no fundo da sua bucetinha. “Fode, fode… assim…”, choraminga afoito, meio fora de si. “Me come, porra…”
Seus dedos acham seu grelinho numa facilidade absurda, a vozinha dengosa de Hansol na sua orelha era insuportável, dava vontade de gozar ‘pra caralho. Os sons se tornam ainda mais imorais, os gemidos se misturando, o ruído molhado das peles se encontrando… você tinha certeza que começara a alucinar de tanto tesão.
O quadril dele moveu-se num chacoalhar desesperado quando você passou a apertá-lo sem parar, dividido entre se abrigar bem fundo na sua bucetinha quente ou se foder com gosto no caralho do seu namorado. Nem o peso do corpo de Hansol em cima do seu te impediu de se contorcer inteira, os gemidos transformando-se num chorinho todo dengoso — as lágrimas molhando o rosto tanto quanto a entradinha molhava o pau dele inteirinho.
Você revirou os olhos por trás das pálpebras, a audição chiando de tão intenso o orgasmo. A bucetinha pulsava, reclamando o movimento que parecia não cessar.
Vernon também não aguentava mais, soluçava baixinho contra o seu pescoço e era complicado ‘pra caralho segurar a sua vontade de encher o rostinho bonito de tapas. Sequer haviam terminado e já tinha tanto mais que queria fazer com Hansol. Ele soluça baixinho, o narizinho fungando contra a sua pele num indício forte de que também chorava.
Droga, quer gozar outra vez.
Quer esfolar a buceta inteirinha no pau babão dele, porque tem a plena certeza que isso o faria chorar mais. Quer sentar na carinha fofa, forçá-lo a lamber seus peitinhos e ter seu namorado fodendo com vocês dois até cansar, quer tanta coisa… não iriam parar nem tão cedo.
“Vai gozar, gatinho?”, sussurra cheia de manha. Lutava para manter os olhos abertos, superestimulada. “Você é tão lindinho…”, elogia, a mão trêmula faz um carinho casto no cabelo encharcado de suor. Hansol soluça baixinho. “Sem segurar. Goza igual putinha, Hansolie.”, sorriu quando um som esganiçado escapa da garganta dele. “Isso… geme ‘pra mim, geme.”
“Eu preciso-”, ele engasga no meio da frase, a cintura molinha perdendo o controle. “Por favor, tira…”, murmura, tenta erguer o quadril, mas a pressão do corpo pesado em cima do dele não o deixa se mover. “Ah, caralho…”, se babava inteirinho, tontinho com a sensação. “Sai, por favor, por-”, interrompe a si mesmo com um gritinho, pois Minghao entende a inquietação dele como motivo para foder com mais força ainda. “Merda, eu vou gozar…”
“Fica.”, enlaça as pernas do homem como pode. Você morde os lábios sentindo o canalzinho judiado arder… só precisa aguentar um pouquinho, só mais um pouquinho… “Joga na minha bucetinha, joga.”, pede num sussurro manhoso e Hansol ergue a cabeça para conseguir te olhar, como se não acreditasse que tinha permissão. “Segredinho nosso, gatinho.”
─── se você chegou até aqui, obrigada por ter lido! [🤍]
★ | member — husband!minghao x wife!reader
★ | genre — romance, smut, fluff, newlyweds au
★ | word count — 3k
★ | synopsis — the only thing on minghao's mind tonight is you.
★ | warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, a lot of making out, wayyy too eager & desperate minghao, hints of a marriage kink, disgusting sappy feelings, emotionally prepare yourself bc they're Making Love™
★ | notes — requested by anon — this ask is from over 2 years ago i am SO sorry anon but if you're still here please lmk if you see this :) if you liked this style of writing, please reblog and tell me your thoughts in the tags!! reblogs are what makes tumblr work, and they show me that this is something you want to read more of <3
minghao isn’t usually the clingy one in your relationship, but he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of you all day.
he’s never been the type to publicly show off his affection, always preferring whispered words and touches in private. those are the things that mean the most to him, you always thought. but as soon as you heard the words “you may now kiss the bride” at the altar he was suddenly pulling you in and kissing you harder than ever before, the warmth of his lips melting into yours. in that moment everything else melted away, too; the dying sunlight, the rustle of the wind in the palm trees, the clapping and cheering of your friends and family behind you.
even after you’d changed out of your long white gown into a shorter, more comfortable party dress for the reception, his hand had stayed on your thigh the entire time. food was served, guests came to greet you at your table, and all the while there was his warmth on your skin, only letting go so you could make your way to the dance floor. persistent, offering the reassurance you need that he'll always be by your side. although tonight, you're not sure if you're the one who needs it most, or if it's him.
and then your first dance. his hands were just a little too tight on your waist, his lips lingering just a little too long against your cheek as he held you close.
“baby, what’s gotten into you?” you giggle breathlessly as he pushes you against the wall of your honeymoon suite, not-so-quietly slamming the door shut with his foot.
“you,” he breathes, and you’re surprised at the way his voice comes out deep and raspy. “you… are so fucking beautiful. and now you’re my wife.” he gives you a glance up and down, a look you're used to by now, but this time it seems so much more special than usual. maybe it's the way his eyes pause on your hand, the glittering new ring that shines there. maybe it's the reverent way he watches you begin to undress for him, slipping the straps off your shoulders one by one, trying so hard to contain himself and not ruin this moment. it's been an exhausting few months, and it's a relief now that everything is finally over. “ … my wife.”
no. that's not right, it suddenly hits him. everything's not over. it's only just beginning.
with that realization he snaps into action. his hands are everywhere, holding your sides and sliding down to your ass, then sliding back up to your shoulder blades. he holds you tight then loosens his grip, as if his brain is short circuiting at the fact that you're finally completely alone for the rest of the night, a night that's been so eagerly-awaited for song that he's almost hesitant in fear of messing it up. but he can't hesitate, not now. not when he's finally got you.
in all the years you've known him you don't think he's ever kissed you this passionately, this intensely, this hungrily. you've barely walked through the goddamn door and he's acting like it's the last night he'll ever get to see you. but really, it's the first of many.
you wrap your arms around him and try to keep up, hugging him as tight as you can and chasing his lips. you're fighting your hardest to keep your knees from buckling, and even with your back pressed against the wall for support it's not enough to extinguish the fire that's alight inside your chest. minghao kisses you like he's trying to steal the air from your lungs while simultaneously breathing life into you, like he needs to remind every cell and molecule in your body of how much he loves you.
he pulls away only once he feels himself start to go lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, or maybe he's just lightheaded in general because you're finally, officially his. but even that short break doesn't last long, allowing himself only a few precious seconds to breathe before he reattaches his lips on your jaw and starts kissing down your neck.
your eyelashes flutter as he moves down, his breath tickling your throat as he presses his face into your skin while he lets out heavy breaths through his nose. there's that warmth again; the heat of his eagerness, every hot exhale filled with life that he breathes only for you.
he pushes his nose into the corner of your neck and shoulder, inhaling the memories of the day. the fading scent of your perfume fills his nose as he kisses against your collarbone, reminding him of everything that led him to this moment.
he tries to imagine how you looked getting ready in the morning, a past that already seems lifetimes away. he pictures you slipping on your dress while friends and stylists crowd around you, talking and giggling as they fix your hair and your makeup to make you look as perfect as possible — though to him, you already are. he wishes he could’ve seen that moment, had it not been for stupid tradition. he's usually a fan of traditions, but not this one. every second he spends away from you is agony, but it's worth it a million times over for what he gets to experience right now, the excitement, the anticipation, and now, the payoff.
he vaguely remembers the cake, the dancing, the music, the applause, the toasts. all of it is still a blur, a rush of emotions he hasn't quite had time to sit with yet. maybe tomorrow, or in a few days, or even a few years, it'll sink in. maybe he's stuck in the honeymoon phase and this, too, will fade over time. but somehow he knows it won't.
what he remembers as clear as day are the vows he said to you at the altar, and every single word is something he'll never forget as long as he lives. he remembers vividly the way you walked towards him, almost in slow motion, gliding down the aisle straight out of a dream. he didn't think he'd cry; he's never one to get emotional in front of people, and you've rehearsed this day together more than a few times. but then suddenly there you were standing in front of him, holding his hands and looking up into his eyes, and he had to fight to keep himself from getting choked up at the sight of you, the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
he kisses your neck again and moans, out loud and unabashed, like he's been holding it in all day. in all honesty, he has. he isn't the type to be jealous, either, but he would be lying if he said letting you go to dance with other people after the ceremony wasn't one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. he never wants to leave your side, never again.
minghao knows he isn't normally a desperate man. but tonight it's like he's become a brand new man; a man who needs you so badly, more than he's ever needed anything before in his life. he needs to touch you, kiss you, hold you, please you, do everything that he possibly can with you, for you.
“h-hao?”
you let out a breathy gasp of his name and it finally gets his attention. his eyes find yours in an instant, silently pleading with you to tell him what you want. he needs to give you whatever you want.
“we can— do you… baby, there's a bed,” you finally settle on, trying to straighten out all the words that are jumbled in your head as you motion across the room. he's still got you caged against the wall, barely a step away from the door.
that finally seems to snap him out of his daze, and the familiar understanding you're used to seeing flashes across his eyes. so caught up in his eagerness he almost forgot the most important thing: that you're here too, with your own needs and wants, and you're probably feeling exactly the same things he's feeling. he's got to remind himself that this is as much of a new thing for you as it is for him, too.
so he nods, kissing you again and forcing himself to slow down. there's no rush, no need to do everything all at once immediately. he has all night with you, and several other nights with you after tonight, and then after that, the whole rest of your lives. for a few fleeting days he gets to be here with you: no interruptions, no commitments, and no responsibilities. just you and him. he wants every second of your time, and he wants to give you every second of his.
he sweeps you up into his arms and whisks you around before laying you gently on the bed behind him, his cheeks rosy and his smile soft. and for the second time today, the whole world melts away, leaving just you. just you, and him.
his hands hold your hips tightly as he drags his lips across your stomach, pressing kisses all over your body. he lifts his eyes to meet yours as he kneels between your legs, and his long fingers dig into your sides when you whimpers softly for him. he could truly spend hours here, coaxing moans from your beautiful lips and working you up into a perfect state of bliss.
and that's exactly what he does. he fills you with air and then leaves you breathless, cleansing waves washing over you again and again until you forget what it was ever like to be with him before this. it's different but not noticeably so; it's a familiar feeling lingering in the back of your mind, but the memories are so much brighter now, as if the colors have been restored and remastered like an old, well-loved movie. everything comes easier now, a routine you'll never get bored of, and the feeling of fitting together is more natural than anything you've ever felt in your entire life.
long after your bodies have become a sweaty mess and half the sheets are on the floor, he slips away from the bed to tug on a pair of boxers from his suitcase, bringing your swim cover-up back with him for you to wear like a robe. all you have the energy to do is shrug it onto your shoulders, the fabric twisted and folded and barely covering anything, but you can't find it in you to care.
the night is so warm and you're so comfortable, lying practically naked curled up against minghao's body. you let out a long, deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs in a calming rhythm. in, out, in, out. he moves to sit up a little, adjusting his position against the mountain of pillows on the bed, but you catch him with a hand on his thigh and he pauses, his attention returning to you in the blink of an eye.
“stay with me, will you?” you hum out softly, letting your thumb rub languidly along the hem of his shorts as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
“wouldn't wanna be anywhere else, my love.”
you open your eyes a while later, and you're only a little surprised to see that minghao is still awake. as promised he didn't leave your side, still sitting up in bed with your head resting on his lap. his gaze is fixed on the open back door, quietly watching the waves crashing on the shore. you’re not sure how long you’ve been napping, but however long it's been he doesn’t seem to mind.
you pull yourself up onto your elbows and his head instantly swivels to look down at your motion. your muscles ache, but it's a satisfying sort of soreness, one that you don't mind if it lingers for a little while. you manage to sit up all the way, leaning your head against his bicep, and he adjusts ever so slightly to make it more comfortable for you.
“wanna go for a walk?” you finally break the silence, your thumb gently brushing against his arm. if it were any other day than today, he would've teased you and questioned if you even had the ability to walk anymore, but both of you can tell this isn't the moment for that. not after everything you did, everything you said, everything you shared.
he doesn't reply, only nods and carefully slips off the bed, holding out his hand to help you after him. it's impossible to miss the way he squeezes your hand so gently, lacing your fingers together and leading you out the back door.
the ocean comes right up to the backyard of the house, so you decide to forego shoes and walk straight out into the sand. the town is quiet at night, and for a view this beautiful and private you know it must've cost minghao a fortune. but he refused to tell you the price, insisting that since you planned the wedding he was in charge of the honeymoon, his gift to you. to him, you’re worth more than anything money could buy, but that doesn’t mean he won’t spend all of his on you.
there's a log a little ways from the shore, close enough to see the glint of the moonlight on the water but far enough to avoid the waves. it's an old piece of driftwood filed smooth by the wind and weather, soft enough to sit on without splintering, and it crosses your mind to wonder how many couples this log has seen throughout the years, in the same position as you. how many people have come to this beach, sat in this spot under the dim light of the moon, filled with so much love and joy and hope for the future.
you sit down and gently tug on his hand, still entwined with yours, to pull him down beside you. there's no way of telling what time it is, but it's clearly late. you didn't leave the reception until everyone was too tired to party any longer, and then the hour's drive up the coast, plus however long you slept for. it's probably some early hour of the morning, but time is nothing more than a fleeting thought in the back of your mind at this point. time doesn't feel real here; counting the hours would be a waste of precious seconds you could spend on him instead.
“i don't want this night to end,” minghao says softly, as if he's reading your thoughts. he's staring off at the water again, mesmerized by the foamy waves rushing up the sand and the reflection of the moon that makes the surface of it almost seem to glow.
it's odd, to see him so vulnerable like this. it's unlike him, but that's exactly how you know it means so much to him. if he didn't care so much, he wouldn't have held you the way he did, kissing you and worshipping you like you're the only thing he's ever known. he wouldn't be acting so unusual if you didn't turn his world completely upside down every time you kissed him back. if you meant less to him then maybe he'd be able to collect himself the way he always does, a calm demeanor and a knowing smile assuaging your own nerves. but he can't. not today.
you can tell that it's finally starting to sink in for him now. how different things are, and yet they're still exactly the same. the rings and the expensive clothes and the fancy venue are just for show. a distraction, almost, from the real reason why you're here with him right now. at the end of the day he would still be fine without all that, but you? you're the one thing he never wants to be without. and now, he's realizing, he never has to be.
if you didn't know him so well, you'd think he was melancholy or even insecure, but as the silence stretches on you can tell what he really means. you know his words aren't regretful of a night ended, they're in anticipation of the day that's about to begin. many, many more days and nights he'll get to share with you. perhaps not as intense or special as tonight, but still filled with just as much passion and love.
“it will end, eventually. soon.” you say. it's still night but by now the moon is just barely hovering over the horizon, waiting patiently to take its reprieve and let the dawn break forth into morning instead. he knows it's a fact, there's no use trying to pretend otherwise. but that doesn't make it a bad thing. it just makes it a fact. your voice is soft, clear as the night sky. “you and i aren't going to, though.”
he finally looks over to meet your gaze, and even in near-darkness you can read his expression.
he's quiet for a long moment, just sitting and watching. watching the wind blowing through your hair, watching the moonlight illuminating your face, watching the sand sticking to your legs as you pull your knees up to your chest.
“i love you,” he says, so quietly that it almost gets swallowed up by the crashing sounds of the waves.
but you hear him, and you can tell he means it so sincerely. maybe even more sincerely than when he whispered it earlier to you as he was putting the ring on your finger, because this moment is private. in the stillness of the night, in the seclusion of the beach, where it's for you and only you. not to say that all the times he said it in front of your friends and family and guests weren't sincere, but this time is personal; a moment that no one else gets to witness but you. and that's exactly how you want it.
you sigh. it's another soft sound, barely audible over the wind, but you know he hears you, too. he always hears you, and you always hear him.
i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!
✦ note: thank you for being so wonderfull and patient! I've been suffering from a severe case of post concert depression. But it's here! I really hope you all enjoy it!
Minghao had always been a pretty chill dude. He had been dancing, having fun and overall enjoying life. He was calm as the waves but with as much passion as a wildfire.
It wasn’t that he had been disappointed when he turned thirteen. But he kind of wished that he had a cool mark. Something with music, maybe visiting each other in your dreams? So when he woke up to the clock counting down on his wrist, he had rolled his eyes and covered it up.
He wouldn’t meet you anytime soon, so why would he need to look at it?
As he grew older, as he grew more mature, as he spoke to friends and family, he had come to appreciate it. Especially after joining the training for Pledis. Because some of the boys had marks that were so difficult he wondered if they would ever be able to find their other half.
He had felt happy for Jun and sorry for Vernon. He had aw’ed at Jihoon’s and he had to pull himself together not to wince at Chan’s. Veiled emotions; as if your own emotions weren't enough to deal with as a human, but having to feel theirs too? No thanks.
So he had come to love those small numbers, often stroking his wrist before he went to sleep, now knowing that the clock was one day closer to reach 00:00
Unlike Minghao you had cherished the tattoo from the very start. It had been a reminder that he was out there somewhere, waiting for you.
You absolutely adored that you had nothing to worry about as long as the clock kept counting down. He was alive, hopefully safe and living his best life like you were yourself.
The mark was not something too special, it was one of the more common ones, your parent had the exact same one and you had always loved hearing the story of how they had both been so out of their minds when there was 30 minutes until they met, that they had just walked through the city, trying to think of anything but the watch on their wrists.
They had bumped into each other in the park. Nothing short of divine timing.
Nothing made you more excited about finally getting to meet him. Whoever or wherever he was.
“Thanks for cooking dinner” Minghao said again as he looked at Mingyu, currently in the kitchen mouth full of food.
His friend smiled at him. “Any time!” It’s always nice I get to practice my chinese cuisine with someone who knows how it should taste”
Mingyu looked to his own wrist where the word that had been there an hour ago slowly faded away.
“Do you ever wonder if you’ll find her?” Minghao asked with a small smile, as his hands toyed with the bracelet around his wrist.
Mingyu just shrugged. “I hope so, but if I’m being honest I’m not really counting on it” He smiled, but it didn’t seem genuine, and those usually broad shoulders seemed to shrink a little.
Minghao sighed as well, running a hand through his long locks. “Yeah, I know mine is rather easy, but there’s a bit of anxiety tied to it. Knowing when I meet her is not always as… easy as it sounds”
The tall man turned towards his friend and crossed his arms in front of his chest, nodding, urging him to explain further.
“In the beginning I didn’t really think about it, like yay I’m gonna meet her in my late 20’s, okay, I’ll just build a life for myself before that. But the older I got, the more I came to realize that even that isn’t promised. I have no idea what she’s doing, what her life is like. I have no idea if she’s safe, healthy, happy…”
A small smile spread on his lips. “I envy you guys a lot, most of you have some sort of indicator of who they are and how they’re doing. All I have is this fucking clock, and if I one day look down and it has stopped… What do I do then?”
To Minghao it looked like Mingyu had never had the thought, as if he suddenly reminded the man that they in fact could lose them before they ever met, this part of their soul.
He sighed. “Never thought about it like that, I think mine is okay, I don’t think anyone would crave so much food as she is if they weren’t. I think it’s worst when she doom scrolls, damn the mark is flashing as quickly as her thumb can touch the screen”
They both smiled.
“I’m sure you’ll find her at some point” Minghao said as he stood from the chair, ready to help his friend with the dishes after their shared dinner.
“You too, too bad it wasn’t Tan’s friend” Mingyu said as he pushed his friend lightly with his shoulder.
Minghao leaned back his head as he laughed. “Yeah, it was worth a shot, but I did say from the get go that would be a little too easy”
“Ugh I don’t know if it even makes sense” You said into the phone, talking to your older brother.
The two of you had been talking to one another for the last hour or so, him trying to convince you to fly out to see him.
“Dude, you can work from anywhere, so you don’t even need time off, and I could show you the city when you had a break. Just imagine all the food”
You had always been close, and even after he moved across the world you had made sure to speak on the phone or facetime a few times a week.
You took a deep breath. “It’s just… two trips in a year, we’re all coming for christmas after all”
If it had been possible to hear when a person rolled your eyes, you knew you would have heard it right then.
“Just get here okay?!” he said before he hung up.
Which now meant you had a decision to make.
He was laying in bed, somewhat beat after a long day. He rubbed his collarbone as he had gotten a habit of doing after his injury. And like always, right before he turned off the light in his room, he looked down at his clock, but that night it didn’t just count down. It flickered. It lacked.
In a split second he was sitting, staring down at the ticking time, that flashed from the time that was still a few months away to a time that was literal days away. Back and forth, back and forth.
His heart was beating out of his chest, and before he could even think too hard about it, he was out the door wearing nothing but shorts and a tanktop. He didn’t even put on his shoes, but it didn’t matter, he was running instantly.
Seungcheol didn’t live far, and he was knocking on his leader's door frantically, not really caring that it was in the middle of the night. He would most likely be up gaming anyway.
When his brother opened the door Minghao flew right past him into the living room frantically pacing until he was able to catch up.
“Hao…” Seungcheol said, testing the waters. But the blond only held that infamous wrist of his, covering the clock that he usually flashed to everyone proudly.
He moved closer, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Minghao?” He said, finally able to catch his eyes. He stopped pacing and exhaled.
With the exhale he lost all ability to stand upright, it was as if his legs started working all together, and he fell to the couch that stood behind him.
Minghao buried his head in his hands as he shook it, silently whispering something beneath that the older one had trouble deciphering.
Seungcheol slowly pulled his hands from his face. “What’s wrong?” his eyes were kind, as was his smile.
“Please tell me she’s okay…” his voice trembled as the tears welled up in his eyes. It was a prayer on his lips, one of pure desperation.
Minghao held out his wrist for the leader to see and for a few seconds he just stared at the clock, ticking away as usual. Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask what it exactly was he was looking for, the numbers shifted for a split second.
It looked as if it was lacking, as if something was wrong and Seungcheol took a deep breath before he looked to his brother who had winced the second the numbers changed.
“Hyung, what's wrong with her?” he asked with pleading eyes. But he had no idea so he shook his head.
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out okay? I promise we’ll figure it out” and with that he pulled Minghao close, allowing him to totally lose it, and break down in his arms.
It was known in Seventeen that if Seungcheol promised them something, it was a promise he would never break. Every time he had a chance the following days he was researching, talking to mark researchers, but most of them had never really encountered something like it.
“I got something!” Jun had yelled out in the restaurant they were occupying one night.
All the eyes around the table were at him as he stood up, reading from his phone: “the glitch of the clock is usually seen in moments where a single decision can impact the meeting of the two soulmates in question. If a decision is made where the clock speeds up the time, a light heat will blossom around it, if more time is added it will cool the numbers down”
Jun looked from his phone to his best friend, who leaned back into his chair, arms hugging himself as he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding all these days.
The guys erupted in ecstatic screams and claps while they surrounded their friend. A single tear escaped Minghao’s eye, grateful that you were in fact, okay.
You were seated on the plane to Seoul, sending a text to your brother that he better come pick you up, or you would be turning back home in a second.
There was an excitement blossoming in your chest, you had missed him a lot. You had made the decision when he had finally explained just why he needed you to fly out. He had met his soulmate, and he wanted the two of you to meet before he was introduced to the whole family this upcoming Christmas.
What you hadn’t told him was as soon as you had booked the flight, a heat blossomed on your wrist, and suddenly the clock had changed. 4 days and 22h.
Not only were you meeting your brother's soulmate on this trip, but you would meet your own as well.
You took a deep breath as you rubbed the numbers on your wrist. You had made a promise to yourself to cover the numbers while you were there, you wanted the meeting to be a natural occurrence of events. You kissed them once and then slipped the black band over them.
When you arrived at the airport, your brother stood with flowers and a huge smile, ready to greet you. He had you in a tight embrace soon after.
The two of you had quickly moved from the airport to dump your suitcase back at his apartment, luckily he hadn’t commented on the sheer size of it.
You spend the rides catching up, and he told you in somewhat rough terms how he had met his other half. He didn’t want to spoil too much, but of course your workaholic brother would meet his soulmate while literally working.
You met him when the three of you were out for dinner that very evening. And the two of them made perfect sense. He was the cold and calm to your brother's fire and passion.
They moved around one another almost as if it was a dance.
“No, so I just stepped into the practice room and that string just led straight to him,” your brother's soulmate laughed as he pulled his other half close by the neck. Slightly tucking at the long strands of hair.
“Speaking of the practice room” your brother said as he looked at you with a raised brow.
You stuffed the kimchi into your mouth, as you stared back at him in defiance. “Don’t even think about it”
Just like your brother you had danced, but unlike him you had never had the guts to actually pursue it as a career, especially after he did.
“You dance?” The man before you asked as he looked at your brother.
“She does, and she’s really fucking good at it” he answered wile pointing to you with his chopsticks.
“What kind of dance?”
“Oh she does it all… ballet, ballroom, b-boying, contemporary. She’s better than me”
You rolled your eyes at the praise.
“Maybe we should bring her tomorrow, I’m sure Chan would love a little ballroom lesson” your brother leaned back in his chair as he laughed, genuinely and absolutely contagiously.
“Oh I love that; yeah… you know what? Hell yeah, let’s bring her on of these days”
“I’ll call the managers for an NDA”
The man stood up to make a call and you looked at your brother.
“He seems good for you,” you said and he responded with a smile.
“He’s too good for me” the both of you laughed. “Are you okay though, it seems like your mind is somewhere else?” He took your hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Don’t worry about me, worry about me beating your ass if you force me to dance in front of your crew”
“Oh I would never make you dance in front of them. I want you to dance with them”
The two hadn’t lied when they said they wanted to bring you along for a day's work.
The building was big, so big you wondered how anyone could find their way in the corridors, because to you they made absolutely no sense.
A signed NDA and a visitor pass later and you were on your way to the practice room. And that too was huge.
“Who the hell needs this much space?” You asked as you looked around.
Your brother laughed. “Well there’s 13 of them, and then all the dancers go balance it out. We take up quite a bit of space”
You nodded as you looked around. You had chosen comfortable clothes that still somewhat showed off your personal style.
The two soulmates introduced you to all their coworkers, and before you knew it, you were dancing along beside them, learning the choreography for some of the dances.
It almost felt like coming home. Your muscles loosened straight away to make it possible for you to do all the twists and turns.
A door opened and a few loud cheers broke out. And in stepped 6 people you had only heard stories of. The guys all went around, greeting every single dancer, asking questions or telling jokes that made no sense to an outsider.
One of them stopped before you and raised a brow. “And who might you be?” Chan said in a language you didn’t really know much of.
“Chan, say hello to my sister” your brother said as he gestured between the two of you.
The man almost did a little jump from pure excitement, and then went off in a rant your broken Korean couldn’t quite follow.
And before you knew it, music was blasting from the speakers and he had taken your hand, leading you to the middle of the room, and before you knew it, you were leading a dance class in ballroom dance.
“No but she literally moved like the ocean. I’ve never seen anything like it” Chan said later that day, when the dancing around with the background dancers had stopped to make room for learning the new choreography for their upcoming comeback.
“It was pretty god damn smooth” Mingyu noted and looked at Minghao who just sat and stared at the clock that slowly counted down.
“You guys should come tomorrow, meet her” Hoshi said before drowning half a bottle of water in what seemed to be one sip.
“She better stay for a while, this could end up being fucking hillarious” Chan said with a smile right before he grabbed Hoshi’s waist and spun him around just as you had taught him earlier that day.
The room broke out in absolute laughter.
“Yeah, maybe” Minghao said as he rubbed the numbers once, twice.
“Dude, you do know you won’t meet her if you keep isolating yourself right?” Vernon said with serious eyes.
He knew his friend was right so he took a breath. “Fine, I’ll join you guys”
He could hear the music and the cheers on the other side of the door. His heart was hammering away in his chest. Two minutes was what was left, which meant when he entered he would either open the door to see you, or you would follow right behind him.
A deep breath later and he stepped through the door, leaving the numbers behind, ready to meet you.
Some of his brothers and all of their dancers were all cheering for Chan and the woman he was currently spinning around within the circle of people.
It had somewhat been an understatement when he had said that the woman moved like water, whoever she was, she was a natural.
Minghao smiled to himself. And then the pieces clicked into place. He looked around the room, and sure enough, the woman, you, was the only new addition to the people in the room.
He moved through a few people and stood in the very front, desperate to capture your eyes. Because you had to be his, you had to.
Chan pulled you close to his chest and he couldn’t help his grimace and the small gasp he made when he saw how his friend's hand came into contact with the small of your back.
That small sound was enough for your eyes to shoot up over the shoulder of your dance partner, and then they met his.
Your wrist almost buzzed with warmth as your eyes met, and the two of you knew instantly what it meant. There was no need to do a double take, all you needed was to be in his arms.
Chan spun you around and as soon as only his fingertips held you, you broke free from his grasp, did an extra spin and ran to him.
Minghao, as if he knew exactly what you planned, took two steps forward and opened his arms. And in the next second you flew directly into them.
His arms were around you in an instant, lifting you from the ground as you flung your legs around him.
Gasps broke out around the two of you, but he didn’t care. They had all had you for longer than he had. So without letting you down, he left the room with you in his arms, leaving everyone behind to either wonder what had just happened, or celebrate it.
He walked out of the room with you still in his arms, a giant smile painted on his lips.
“Did that just happen?” you kept repeating, more to yourself than to him.
You pulled away to actually look at him, and he loosened one of his arms, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as he kept walking.
“Thank you for finding me sooner” he said, eyes sparkling as he looked at you as if you were his whole world.
You hugged him once again, not really knowing what to say as the tears threatened to spill if you talked.
You nuzzled into him, allowing yourself to feel small in his arms as he took you to who knows where.
A door opened, and then it closed, and everything fell silent. He sat you down on a couch, and sat between your legs at the coffee table directly in front of it.
Nothing could’ve stopped the whine you released as he pulled away from you. He laughed, and you couldn’t quite figure out if it was because he was a little embarrassed, or because he didn’t really know what to say.
“I’m not good at english” he managed to say as he intertwined his fingers with yours.
“I’m not good at korean” You said with a sheepish smile.
He nodded. “We’ll figure it out” he gave your hands a gentle squeeze, and you nodded in response.
“And mandarin might be too big of a stretch” he mumbled in the language, but you on the other hand, perked at it and answered him in his mother tongue.
“Maybe not too big of a stretch” You said with a smile.
Minghao fell to his knees in front of you, as he laughed quietly. “Maybe not, you are a part of my soul, so I guess it makes sense we would be able to communicate”
He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, they almost shone like little stars in the light of the room. You had never seen happiness like this, pure bliss, unconditional love. And to know that he was looking at you with such affection melted your heart.
“So, you’re a dancer?” he asked. He had to bite his tongue to not ask you every question that ran through his mind.
You laughed. “Actually I work in marketing and product development, hence the mandarin, but I’ve danced my whole life”
Minghao made a grimace. “Then how exactly did you end up in our practice room?” He asked before moving closer to you.
You slid your hand from his hands and felt how it felt like your heart tripled in size at the way he pouted at the loss of contact to your skin. Instead you slid them up his broad shoulders, intertwining your hands behind his head and pulling him even closer to you.
The action had left him on his literal knees before you, and Minghao didn’t mind it one bit.
“My brother is one of your dancers, came to meet his soulmate, and somehow stumbled upon it”
His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned forward, slowly, teasing and testing every movement.
“Did you now?” he said with a low tone.
Your eyes looked from his, to his mouth and that devilish smirk he had on full display. You nodded.
“Just promise me one thing love, don’t let my members hands run up your body like that again”
Your head leaned back a little as you laughed, and for a second he almost lost all control over himself and kissed you up the neck.
“Oh? Are you the jealous type?” You asked with a raised brow.
Now he looked to your mouth, but unlike you, his eyes never left your lips, not even when he answered: “Usually no, but apparently that’s just the kind of feelings you evoke in me”
“Yeah?” you asked as his nose came into contact with your own, sending sparks up and down your spine.
“Yeah” he whispered with an exhale. He took a jagged breath in.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked as he searched your eyes for any kind of hesitation or indication that what he was currently doing overstepped any kind of boundary.
A small nod from you and he dived into your mouth as a man who had been starving his entire life.
He was gentle and firm, teasing and generous all at the same time. You could live here for the rest of his life, breathing only when he allowed you to come up for air, warmed by his embrace. Yes, there was no doubt in your mind that the universe had managed to pick the perfect partner for you.
The two of you had stayed in the room for about an hour, kissing, catching up and getting to know one another as well as one could in a short amount of time.
But at one point the two of your phones refused to stop buzzing which meant it was time for the two of you to face the music.
Which meant your brother and all of his.
The two of you stepped back into the practice room and were met by cheers and screams, leaving the two of you somewhat embarrassed by being the center of attention.
Your brother was there in a second pulling the both of you close to him. “Well you’re fucking welcome for dragging your ass here” he said with a smirk as he kissed your forehead.
Minghao didn’t really mean to make a face, but he did. And he did his very best in hiding it, but you looked straight through it, so in response you leaned into him, and felt how his shoulders seemed less tense after you did so.
He pulled you closer by the hip and snaked his arm around you possessively.
Your brother looked between the two of you and lifted his hands. “Hey I’ll back off” he then looked to his own soulmate. “Trust me I get it. It gets better after a little while”
Minghao sent him a thankful smile, and sheepishly whispered “sorry”.
As your brother backed off, it meant it was his brother's turn to say hello and introduce themselves.
Minghao couldn’t help the pride that filled his chest as he watched them all excitedly say hello and introduce himself.
And as you looked at him with those sparks in your eyes all he could think about was how lucky he was to spend the rest of his life by your side.
✦ as always let me know what you think! Don't be a silent reader please! Your responses is what keeps me writing. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram! Secret Cupid Masterlist found here!
Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader
Word count: 14.1k
rating: R
Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate.
tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex
author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3
When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.
All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.
A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult?
Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different.
And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.
This morning was bad omen after bad omen.
Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.
He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.
The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.
Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.
“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.
You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life.
After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.
“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”
He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.
“...Come again?”
“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”
Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.
“Dude, you okay?”
“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”
“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”
It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.
Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation.
You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”
“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.”
The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”
“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.
That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.
Ugh. Get a fucking grip.
You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.
You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.
And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.
Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.
It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots.
You couldn’t take another incident tonight.
You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.
And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off, blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization—along with the panic—quickly set in.
Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.
You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”
You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”
Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”
You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”
He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”
“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”
He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”
You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.
“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.
You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.
Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn’t it?
“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.
He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.”
“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”
He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”
You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”
You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”
“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”
He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.
A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.
Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.
“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.
You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea. “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”
He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”
“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.
“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”
Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.
You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.
Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”
And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.
Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao.
You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.
So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.
Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).
That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together.
You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.
You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.
“That’s mine.”
You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”
“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”
Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”
He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”
“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”
Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.
He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”
Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”
“You say that a lot.”
He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”
“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”
He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.
Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)
In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it.
You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush.
Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.
“You going out tonight?”
Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.
“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”
More time for Minghao to be at home. Great.
You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”
“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”
“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”
“Wait.”
Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”
He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”
“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.
He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”
And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”
“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”
You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”
He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”
You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”
“Be safe.”
Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.
Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme.
They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.
Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.
You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace.
“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.
You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”
His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”
Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”
“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”
“You should’ve kicked me out.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”
You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”
He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”
“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”
“No one is good at anything their first time.”
“You’re not denying it!”
“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.
“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.
“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”
Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”
“Mmh-hmm.”
“You don’t have to.”
He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”
“Yes but—”
“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”
You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.
“Try it,” he urged.
As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.
He grinned. “Feel better.”
“Thanks, Minghao.”
“No problem at all.”
As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”
“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”
He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”
In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.
Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)
It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.
In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.
Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.”
You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.
And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.
Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)
You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.
However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it.
This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.
“Let’s go out.”
Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”
“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.
It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.
“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.
“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”
You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”
“Anywhere.”
For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city. If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.
Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”
He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”
“Why’d it take you so long?”
“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”
You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”
He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.”
Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.
“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”
Oh, my god.
You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’
Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.
Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.
What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you.
He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one.
You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded.
But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”
Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another.
“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”
He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”
You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”
“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.
“And tea?” You cared to offer.
Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.
“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.
You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”
“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”
You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”
He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.”
You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”
“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”
You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”
He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”
“...I apologize for being a creep.”
He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”
You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.
“Thought…think…know.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.
“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”
“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.
“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”
His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”
“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”
Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.
He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.
“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”
“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.
“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”
Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”
You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.
“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”
“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”
“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.
“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”
You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”
“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”
“That’s irresponsible.”
“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”
“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”
The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?”
Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”
He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”
You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.
“I guess I won.”
He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”
You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”
“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”
You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”
He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”
“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”
“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.
“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”
Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.”
He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”
“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.
He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”
“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”
“It was your wish to grant my wish.”
“Can I take it back?” You whined.
“It’d be dishonorable.”
You groaned. “Fine.”
He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”
Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.
“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.
“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”
You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.
“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.
“Yeah. Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”
“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.
The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.
“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.
His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”
“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”
If only you had taken your own words to heart.
That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked.
You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”
“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”
Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.
Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.
And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.
“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.
“What kind?” You breathed.
“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”
You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”
A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”
He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.
“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.
His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.
You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”
“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.
“Call off work tomorrow.”
He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”
“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.
Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.
“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache.
His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.
“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.
“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”
“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”
You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”
“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.
“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”
You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.
“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”
A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”
“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”
You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.
You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.
“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.
He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.
Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”
Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.
“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”
You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.
“F…f…fuck...”
Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.
His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.
With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.
He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”
An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.
Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.
It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.
“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.
“My turn.”
With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.
He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”
Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.”
“Hao…” You whined.
“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?”
Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.
“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.
You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.
His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”
“But—”
“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.
His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.
“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.
“Yes, ride my face—fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.
Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”
Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.
“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”
He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.
You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”
“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.
You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”
He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”
“Then, we don’t need one.”
He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.
“Yes please…”
Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.
“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”
You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.
“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”
Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.
“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal. He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.
His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.
“Harder,” You gasped.
He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”
“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”
Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”
“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.
“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”
Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.
“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.
His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”
Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything.
Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.
Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.
With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.
“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”
warnings~is 18+ mdni, explicit smut details, age-gap dynamics (he's older), soft dom minghao praise, teasing, oral mentions, unprotected sex implied (wrap it irl), aftercare, possessiveness, dirty talk. PLEASE skip if age-gap isn’t your vibe!
hello fellow carats~ ❤️🍵 Thank you for submitting requests!!! And thank you even more for 100 followers!! I couldn’t be more grateful!! Thank you all so much!! Reblog/comment! I do write for other groups or specific members/idols so don't be scared to ask! I hope you all enjoy!!
SFW
He’s your serene creative anchor, often inviting you to his studio or dance practice room when inspiration flows. “baobei, watch this real quick—I want your honest eyes on it.” He demonstrates a fluid choreography or sketches a quick fashion concept, his focused, graceful gaze softening into a small smile at your input. “Perfect, as I was thinking. Stay. I might need your thoughts again.” Ends with you wrapped in his arms on the studio floor, his chin on your shoulder while he refines the piece, offering quiet kisses between breaths.
Affection comes elegantly and softly. Not flashy with PDA, but at home he will drape one of his designer scarves around you if the air chills, murmuring, “You look lovely in this. I chose it thinking of you.” If you drift off during a meditation session, he carries you to bed with effortless strength, whispering, “you can rest. I’ll be here.” and arranges the blankets with m precision, his caring loyalty shining quietly.
Protective in more refined ways. In crowds, his hand rests lightly on your back or links with yours, guiding you through with calm poise. “Stay near me, baby.” he says evenly but firmly, his sharp eyes always scanning ahead, turning his quiet intensity into silent guardianship.
Dates suit his type of artist and aesthetic soul. I feel like he lovesss walks through art galleries or quiet tea ceremonies he prepares with you. “Taste this blend, baby. I tried adjusting it for you.” He pours with his elegant and slim hands, smiling softly at your reaction, then steals a gentle kiss, his rare playful side emerging in the serenity.
Absolutely spoils you with meaningful art. Paints small canvases or crafts jewelry inspired by you, or shares fashion pieces from his collection. “Wear this when i’m away. It carries me with you.” Stressed? He guides you through breathing exercises or light stretches, saying, “Let’s call down together, ok?” his detail-oriented mind helping you find clarity step by step.
Playful yet poised moments. Starts a mock “calmness test,” letting you “win” with his all knowing expression, then flows into a gentle spin with his strength. “Caught you off balance.” But softens immediately, holding you close, kissing your temple: “You always bring me harmony,” he admits softly, baring his intimate, artistic depth.
Mornings match his disciplined personality. Rises early for meditation or practice but brings you herbal tea in bed, sitting quietly as you wake, his intense eyes turning warm. “Morning, my light. My day is full, but reach out anytime.” Leaves with a graceful kiss, hand lingering, his dedication showing in thoughtful daily messages.
NSFW
He’s a graceful and intimate soft dom. I feel like treats intimacy like a dance or painting, starting with intense eye contact that holds you still. “Eyes on me, baobei. Let me see you.” His hands move with precise elegance, voice low. “Yes—like that. I want you too touch yourself while I watch,” his perfectionist eye making sure every caress, coming from either his or your own, flows perfectly.
Foreplay is artistic with him. Kisses begin soft and deliberate on your lips, trailing to trace your neck like brushstrokes. “Such beautiful lines… only mine alone.” Uses his strength to position you exactly, fingers exploring with controlled grace until you’re arching. “Patience, baobei— I know your rhythm, let me handle everything,” he murmurs with focused poise.
Voice control is refined. Whispers commands like “Tell me how it feels—be clear, baby.” Tone drops smooth as fingers slide in, curling with precision: “That’s my girl… flowing so perfectly for me,” reading every reaction like he’s gonna save it for choreographing a piece later.
Dynamics flow naturally. Though lean, he commands with fluid power. pinning or lifting you effortlessly. “Feel me moving deep? Looks like art, baby.” His thrusts are measured and deep, his calm focus making every motion intentional and overwhelming.
Teasing with elegance. Edges you with his mouth with slow precise licks, pausing at your edge. “Not yet—ask me softer, beautiful.” Loves the soft pleas you give, then rewards with flowing strokes. “Good girl,” his caring side in how he builds you flawlessly.
Sweet-raw harmony. “So pure, unraveling like this for me. But you crave it, don’t you? My perfect little secret.” Notices tears and brushes them. “Too much, sweet girl ? Tell me anything other than it feels good, and we pause,” always attuned amid his grace.
Vigilant as always. Prefers positions with full view of you , like missionary, to catch every nuance. “Stunning when you fall apart for me.” Checks softly, even amid his edge “Still with me, love?” his precision tuned to your pleasure.
Aftercare masterrrrr. Holds you close afterward, fetching water or a soft cloth with calm elegance. “You were beautiful for me—rest now.” Cuddles gracefully, fingers tracing your skin. “Love you, baobei. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” his quiet care wrapping you like silk.
