Onew noticed the little things, especially when it came to Minho, his boyfriend. During mornings, the small hours of the creeping dawn, Onew often found himself losing his breath, greeted by the Adonis-like man, still lost in deep sleep. Those days were his little secret, not that there was anything wrong with admiring his lover's body, but he couldn't even bare the amount of teasing that might ensue. He definitely would not be able to handle any more of the heartwrenching winks the guy sprung on him, sending him into a tizzy of heart flutters, and sweat palpitations.
Sitting up ever so slightly on the pillow, as to not to disturb Minho, he smiled when he could see the silken blankets hug the curves of his body, from the slenderness of his fluid limbs, to the small dip in his all-but-familar hips, and to the end of reliable set of toned shoulders, with a flawless face and mind behind it. He had to resist the urge to reach out to trail his fingers on the little microscopic specks on his cheeks, softer to the touch than a butterfly's wing flutter. Pinken lips. Strong brows. Fine jaw.
The man next to him was his and from the way he felt, held captive by all the muscles holding back from leaping into Minho's currently sprawled out arms, told him it was real, the feeling that everyone loved to write poems about, love.
He stayed like that way, for what seemed like hours, but he knew his secret would be found out, so he took shelter further underneath their covers, curling up against the tender warmth radiating from Minho.
Within a few minutes, the alarm would blare, stirring a half-awake giant from his night sleep. Stretching his arm, he'd click their cheap Ikea alarm off, and sweep the blanket over his face yet again, a lame attempt to hide from the 9am sun, dripping through the honeydew green curtained window next to their bed. Sooner or later, they would both roll out of bed, but not before poking at each other, or tickling one to get them to wake. Most days, after rolling, and tangling themselves, Onew ended up losing the battles, which he had no problem with, if it meant the winner, got to kiss whoever he wanted, which was him.
Daylight pecks were always sweeter, mixed into the good feelings of fresh starts and shy smiles. Just in general, mornings brought another chance to steal glances at him over the breakfast table, one more opportunity to creep his hand into Minho's while he read the latest soccer scores, and an extra shot of running his hands over his suit lapels before he left for work.
another blissful day with him,
Minho always got home late, entering to a silent home.
He would be frustrated, with whatever project was drilling a headache into his temples at the moment, but, without fail, there would always be a note on the table to dissipate his anger.
"Made your favorite. Well, tried."
"DVR-ed the Barcelona game. So tempted to tell you who won, but I am not that mean. ;)
I won the bet. You owe me three kisses "
"Sorry! Left a red sock in the whites. We will be the pink shirt couple for a while. Oops!"
"Choi Minho, please hurry and go to sleep. The bed is cold without you. "
He chuckled, pulling off the tie Onew had so diligently tied that morning, letting the maroon fabric flutter to the ground.
His eyes were well adjusted to the dark, the moonlight only leaking through some parts of the apartment.
Minho made it safely though to his bedroom door, gripping the frame slightly before he leaned against it.
Although the light was faint in their room, no brighter than a firefly's glow, he didn't need it, since he had already memorized Onew's whole body, inch by inch, mole by mole. He could see Onew perfectly this way, body free from all shades of stress and worry. His chest lifted and fell like the soft waves of a low tide. Long locks, normally resting neatly by his ears, were spilled out on the pillow and draping his
The night allowed him to finally be with Onew again, his sanctuary from the chaotic world that ate away at him.
He slipped into something more comfortable, and slowly worked himself in between the sheet, holding his breath when he saw Onew rustle a bit in his sleep.
Luckily, Onew's deep sleeping habits were in his favor today, and Onew curled him, hands open for him to take.
He did, meshing their compatible hands together. Minho ran his thumb over the tops of Onew's fingers, which were a bit plump and rounded off at the top. They were callused, and a bit chalky, but because they were hands that had been soaked with talent. Onew, in his small studio within their apartment, sculpt beautiful figures, manipulating nothing into fantastic displays of genius. They weren't any specific "thing", but you always knew what you were looking at. The sculptures were pure emotion, evoking sometimes rage, boiling up inside you and spilling onto the cluttered studio floors, and others made you blush, as the hands that molded it seemed to creep up your own sides, pressing and shaping your very soul.
Everything about Onew, from his little fingers, to his cute button nose, and tender thighs, just made him feel full, complete and even, overwhelmed, with the insatisiable desire to just drown in euphoria that was his warmth.
That is why he did it, slowly inching forward, with only the Moon as their witness, to steal a kiss.
It was greedy of him, waking up his dreaming prince, but he didn't care. He wanted to rid the tired feelings from his bones, and listen to Onew's deep moans, were enough to shake those off. Their lips were slow at first, awkwardly dancing together, before Onew's truly realized what was happening, but soon he woke, his gentle eyes flustered, a bit teary from the sudden wake up.
"Hi sweetheart." He murmured, a little intoxicated the airy clean scent Onew gave off.
"I was having a nice dream." Onew's free hand worked its' way through Minho's hair. pushing the bang out of his eyes.
"I'm sorry. Do you want to go back to sleep?" The guilt hit him again. Maybe he let carnal desires take over at a bad moment.
"No. No...It was about you anyway." The statement was quiet, even when they were barely a hair away from each other. Minho's switch flipped back on.
"Well, do you want to play?" His hand pulling them closer together, chest to chest, heart to heart. Each breath seem tortured, and tense with the close proximity.
"Ye-yes." Minho's fingers ran over his lips, plush and smooth.
"Good. It'll take until morning." He smirked, leaning in.
"Mornings are great." Onew gasped when he got a chance.
"I like nights." Onew's hands struggled for something to grab onto, as they clawed at his back.
"I like now." Breathless.
"Let's make you scream that and some more."
A/N: UGHHHHH IDK HOW THIS HAPPENED. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FIC?
I might delete it and rework it another day
anyway, it's for lara and bre who were nice about my writing so I decided to give it a shot again.
