Husband & Husband (Part 4)
The Secret Sunset Mingyu x Wonwoo Mature | Explicit | Smut | MDNI On their last days in Bali, a lost ring and a sudden fan encounter bring the real world back into focus, driving them to spend a final, passionate evening hidden away on their private beach. Part 3
Morning light streamed through the open glass walls, covering the bedroom in a soft warmth. Mingyu stirred first, his arm stretching across the empty side of the bed. The sheets were cool. He propped himself up on one elbow and found Wonwoo standing at the bathroom counter, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair damp from the shower.
“Good morning,” Mingyu said, his voice rough with sleep.
Wonwoo glanced over his shoulder. “Morning. I was thinking we should go out today.”
“Out?”
“Yeah. Downtown. Into Seminyak. Do some shopping. Eat something that isn’t room service. Explore.”
Mingyu stretched, his joints popping. “Disguises?”
“Maybe a little.”
An hour later, they stood in front of the villa’s full-length mirror, assessing their light attempt. Loose linen button-downs, both in muted earth tones. Sunglasses that covered half their faces. Bucket hats pulled low. Mingyu turned sideways, checking his profile.
“I look like a tourist.”
“You are a tourist,” Wonwoo said.
“I look like a tourist who got lost on the way to a yoga retreat.”
Wonwoo laughed and adjusted his own hat. “That’s the point. Ready?”
Mingyu grabbed his wallet and phone. “Ready.”
The taxi wound through the narrow streets of Seminyak, past storefronts spilling with native fabrics and wood carvings. The air was thick with the smell of incense and fried food and ocean salt. Mingyu leaned back in the seat, his hand resting on his thigh, his ring catching the light.
Then he glanced at Wonwoo’s hands.
His left hand was resting on his own knee. Bare.
Mingyu’s head snapped up. “Hey.”
“What?”
“Where is your ring?”
Wonwoo looked down at his hand. His expression shifted from confusion to realization to mild panic in the span of a second. “Oh! Oh no.”
“Oh no? That’s all you have to say?”
“I was washing my face this morning. I must have left it by the sink.”
Mingyu’s jaw dropped. His hand flew to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. “You left it. You left your wedding ring. On our honeymoon. You’re already acting like a bachelor.”
Wonwoo winced. “I’m not acting like a bachelor.”
“You forgot your ring! The thing that symbolizes our promise to forever! The thing we put on each other’s fingers in front of all our friends! The ring!” Mingyu being his usual dramatic self.
The taxi driver glanced in the rearview mirror, his expression carefully neutral.
Wonwoo reached over and took Mingyu’s hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed his knuckles, right over the ring. “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I’ll put it on the second we get back.”
Mingyu’s lower lip jutted out. “You better.”
“I will.”
“And you have to make it up to me.”
Wonwoo’s mouth curved. “I was planning on it.”
The taxi pulled up to the curb near a row of boutiques and open-air cafes. They stepped out into the heat, the sun shining through a the soft clouds. The sidewalks were crowded with tourists and locals, the soft roar of scooters filling the air.
Wonwoo adjusted his sunglasses and started walking.
Mingyu stuck to his side like he was glued there.
In the first boutique, a narrow shop filled with racks of linen shirts and handwoven scarves, Mingyu followed Wonwoo down an aisle so tight their shoulders brushed with every step. When Wonwoo stopped to examine a pale blue shirt, Mingyu pressed up behind him, his chest against Wonwoo’s back, his hand sliding onto his waist.
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo said, his voice low.
“What?”
“We’re in public.”
“No one knows us here.”
“That’s not the point.”
Mingyu’s hand stayed where it was. “I’m still upset about the ring.”
Wonwoo sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. He picked up the shirt, pretended to examine the stitching, while Mingyu’s thumb traced a slow circle on his hip.
They moved to the next shop. Then the next. In a store selling leather goods, Mingyu stood behind Wonwoo while he tried on a pair of sandals, his hands resting on Wonwoo’s shoulders, his chin nearly touching his hair. The shop owner, a woman in her fifties, watched them with a knowing smile.
“You two are brothers?” she asked.
Wonwoo’s ears turned red. “We’re friends.”
“Very close friends,” Mingyu added, his voice flat.
The woman’s smile widened. She said nothing else.
Outside, on the crowded sidewalk, Wonwoo grabbed Mingyu’s wrist and pulled him aside. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“Being impossible.”
Mingyu’s sunglasses hid his eyes, but the smirk was visible. “I’m just staying close to my husband. Is that a crime?”
“We’re supposed to be low profile.”
“We are low profile. I’m just a very friendly low-profile person.”
Wonwoo shook his head, but he was smiling. He let go of Mingyu’s wrist and kept walking.
Mingyu caught up in two big strides. His hand found Wonwoo’s. Their fingers touched. Then Mingyu’s pinky hooked around Wonwoo’s, a tiny deliberate touch hidden between their swinging hands.
Wonwoo didn’t pull away.
They rounded a corner and found themselves in a small open air square. A café spilled out onto the pavement, tables shaded by umbrellas. A few tourists sat sipping iced coffees, phones in hand. Mingyu was scanning the menu board when he felt Wonwoo’s hand tighten around his.
“Don’t look now,” Wonwoo murmured, “but I think we’ve been spotted.”
Mingyu slowly turned his head. A young woman stood near the café entrance, her phone clutched to her chest, her eyes wide. She looked young, early twenties, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked like she was trying to decide whether to approach.
She decided to approach.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice shaky. “Are you… are you Mingyu and Wonwoo from Seventeen?”
Mingyu’s shoulders relaxed. He pulled his sunglasses down just enough to show his eyes. “Hi.”
The woman let out a small squeak. “Oh my god. I’m such a big fan. I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you’re on vacation, but could I please get a photo? Just one. I promise I won’t bother you after.”
Wonwoo stepped forward, his smile easy and warm. “Of course. A photo.”
She almost dropped her phone in her excitement. She fumbled with it, trying to get the camera open, her hands trembling.
Mingyu moved beside Wonwoo. He slung his arm over Wonwoo’s shoulder, casual and familiar, the same pose they had done a thousand times for fans. The same pose that said best friends. Bandmates. Nothing more.
The girl lifted her phone. She angled it to capture all three of them.
Click.
She lowered the phone, her face bright. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry again for interrupting. Have a great vacation!”
“Thank you,” Wonwoo said. “Enjoy Bali.” He gestured faintly toward her phone. “Just a small favor... Would you mind holding onto that picture for a few days before posting it? We're trying to keep things quiet.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and she tucked the phone away. “Of course! Absolutely no problem,” she said, nodding earnestly. She walked away, already looking at her phone, her smile wide. Mingyu watched her go, his arm still draped over Wonwoo’s shoulder.
Then Wonwoo nudged him with his elbow.
“See?” he whispered. “My forgotten ring just saved us from a rumor.”
Mingyu’s smirk returned. He dropped his arm from Wonwoo’s shoulder and slid his hand down, hooking his finger through Wonwoo’s belt loop. He pulled him closer, their hips nearly touching.
“You still owe me for leaving it behind.”
Wonwoo’s breath hitched. “I know.”
They stood there for a moment, two men in linen shirts and bucket hats, hidden in plain sight. The plaza buzzed around them. No one looked twice.
Mingyu let go of the belt loop. “Come on. I want to find more cute stuff for the boys.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a slow, lazy haze. They wandered through more stores, bought a few small things. A scarf for Seungkwan. A wooden carving for Dino. Mingyu found a pair of handmade sandals that he insisted were the most comfortable thing he had ever put on his feet. Wonwoo bought a book from a small English-language bookstore, a novel set in some remote island, the cover faded and soft.
They ate lunch at a small stall tucked down a side street, sitting on plastic stools, eating nasi goreng off banana leaves. The woman who served them didn’t recognize them. She just smiled and refilled their water and asked if they wanted extra chili.
“Yes,” Mingyu said.
“No,” Wonwoo said at the same time.
They looked at each other. The woman laughed.
“Extra chili on the side,” she decided.
By the time they flagged down a taxi to take them back to their airbnb, the sun was beginning its descent. The sky had shifted from pale blue to a soft, hazy gold. Mingyu leaned his head against the window, watching the palm trees blur past.
Wonwoo sat beside him, his hand resting on his thigh, the skin where his ring should be still bare.
Mingyu reached over and covered his hand with his own. “I forgive you.”
Wonwoo turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together. “I wasn’t aware I needed forgiveness.”
“You did. But you have it now.”
“Generous of you.”
“I’m a generous person.”
Wonwoo squeezed his hand. The taxi wound up the cliff road, the ocean appearing and disappearing through gaps in the trees. The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of salt and wet stone.
The driver dropped them at the villa gate. Mingyu paid and tipped. Then they stepped through the carved wooden doors together.
The moment the gate clicked shut behind them, the air changed.
Wonwoo walked toward the bathroom, his steps purposeful. “I’m putting my ring on.”
He reached the bathroom counter. The ring sat where he had left it, a small shiny circle on the cool stone. He reached for it.
Mingyu’s hand got there first.
He picked up the ring. Turned it over in his fingers. Then he took Wonwoo’s left hand and held it, palm up.
“Let me.”
Wonwoo’s throat moved. He nodded.
Mingyu slid the ring onto his finger. The metal glided over his knuckle and settled into place. He held Wonwoo’s hand for a moment, his thumb pressing the ring in, making sure it was secure.
Then he looked up.
His eyes were dark. Quiet. Possessive.
“There,” he said. “Back where it belongs.”
Wonwoo’s breath came shallow. “Thank you.”
“Don’t take it off again.”
“I won’t.”
Mingyu released his hand. The moment stretched, thin and electric. Then he turned and walked toward the back of the villa, where a narrow stone staircase led down the cliff.
“Where are you going?” Wonwoo asked.
“There’s a beach. Private. I saw it on our booking, private beach access.”
Wonwoo followed.
The steps were steep, carved directly into the rock, worn smooth by years of salt and rain. They wound down the cliff, the sound of waves growing louder with every step. The plants thickened around them. Ferns and creeping vines and flowers that bloomed in clusters of various colors.
The stairs ended on a small cove.
The sand was pale gold, fine and soft. The water was a light shade of blue, clear enough to see the rocks beneath the surface. The cove was enclosed on three sides by towering stone walls, covered in moss and dripping with moisture. The only way in was the staircase. The only sound was the ocean.
Mingyu stepped onto the sand. He pulled off his bucket hat and tossed it onto a dry patch near the rocks. His sunglasses followed.
Wonwoo came up beside him. He took off his own hat, his sunglasses, and set them down.
The sun was low, bleeding orange and crimson across the horizon. The light caught the water, turned it to liquid fire.
Mingyu pulled out his film camera.
It was an old thing, a vintage Canon with a metal body and a satisfying mechanical click. He raised it to his eye and focused on Wonwoo.
“Don’t move.”
Wonwoo stood still. The light hit his face, warm and sculpting. His linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the wind pressing the fabric against his chest. His ring caught the sun.
Click.
Mingyu lowered the camera. “Turn your head. Toward the water.”
Wonwoo obeyed. The line of his jaw sharpened against the glowing sky.
Click.
“Now look at me.”
Wonwoo turned back. His eyes met the lens. Dark. Calm. Trusting.
Click.
Mingyu took a few more shots. Close-ups of Wonwoo’s hands, the ring prominent. A wide shot of him standing against the rock wall, the ocean stretching behind him. A candid where Wonwoo laughed, caught off guard by a gust of wind that whipped his hair across his face.
Mingyu lowered the camera. “Perfect.”
Wonwoo walked toward him. He reached out and gently pushed the camera down until it hung from the strap around Mingyu’s neck. Then his hand slid up to Mingyu’s jaw.
“Your turn,” Wonwoo said.
“For what?”
“To stop hiding behind the lens.”
He pulled Mingyu down into a kiss.
The contact was deliberate. Heavy. Full of the restraint they had held onto all afternoon. Mingyu’s hands found Wonwoo’s waist, pulling him close. The camera pressed between them, a cool metal barrier that neither of them cared about.
Wonwoo’s mouth opened under his. The kiss deepened. Mingyu’s tongue slid against his, slow and searching, and Wonwoo made a sound low in his throat.
Mingyu broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
“I could tell.”
“Every time you bent over to look at a shirt. Every time you laughed at something I said. Every time you touched me.”
Wonwoo’s hands were already working at the buttons of Mingyu’s shirt. “Then stop talking.”
The shirt came off. Mingyu shrugged it onto the sand. Wonwoo’s followed. Their skin glowed in the amber light, warm and salt-kissed.
Mingyu reached out and traced the line of Wonwoo’s collarbone. Then his chest. Then the sharp curve of his hip. His fingers lingered on the waistband of his shorts.
“Lay down,” Mingyu said.
Wonwoo sank onto the sand. The grains clung to his back, his shoulders, the damp skin of his arms. He lay back, propped on his elbows, watching Mingyu with heavy-lidded eyes.
Mingyu knelt beside him. His hands went to Wonwoo’s shorts, pulling them down over his hips, his thighs, his ankles. Wonwoo lifted his hips to help, and then he was bare, stretched out on the warm sand, the last light of the sun painting his skin in shades of bronze and rose.
Mingyu took a moment to look at him. The lean lines of his body. The way his chest rose and fell. The ring on his finger, catching the dying light.
“You’re so beautiful,” Mingyu said.
Wonwoo didn’t answer. He just reached up and pulled Mingyu down.
Mingyu settled between his legs. His mouth found Wonwoo’s thigh, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin there. Then higher. His tongue traced a path along the crease where thigh met hip.
Wonwoo’s breath caught.
Mingyu’s mouth moved higher. He took Wonwoo’s length into his hand first, stroking once, twice, watching the way Wonwoo’s head fell back and his eyes slipped shut. Then he lowered his head and took him into his mouth.
The sound that escaped Wonwoo was raw. Bare. Mingyu worked him slowly, his tongue pressing flat, his cheeks hollowing with each draw. The sand was warm beneath his knees. The waves crashed against the rocks. The taste of salt and skin filled his mouth.
Wonwoo’s hand found his hair. His fingers tangled in the dark strands, not pulling, just holding.
“Mingyu.”
The name came out broken. Mingyu responded by taking him deeper, his hand working the base in tandem with his mouth. The rhythm was steady, relentless. Wonwoo’s hips began to move, small thrusts that matched the pace Mingyu set.
The ocean roared. The sun bled lower. The sky turned violet at the edges.
Wonwoo’s breathing grew ragged. His grip tightened in Mingyu’s hair.
“I’m close,” he gasped. “Mingyu, I’m—”
Mingyu didn’t stop. He pushed forward, taking him as deep as he could, and Wonwoo came with a cry that was swallowed by the sound of the surf. His body arched off the sand, his hand clutching at Mingyu’s hair, his release hot and pulsing.
Mingyu stayed with him, working him through it, until Wonwoo’s grip loosened and his breathing began to slow.
He pulled back gently. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Crawled up Wonwoo’s body and settled beside him, their legs tangled, their skin slick.
Wonwoo turned his head on the sand. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted.
“That was…”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
They lay there for a while, watching the sky darken. The first stars appeared, faint pinpricks in the deepening blue. The waves kept their rhythm, steady and endless.
Mingyu’s hand found Wonwoo’s. Their rings clicked together.
“We should wash off,” Mingyu said.
“The water’s warm.”
They stood and waded into the ocean. The water was bath-warm, lapping at their waists, then their chests. Mingyu ducked under, letting the salt rinse the sand from his skin. When he surfaced, Wonwoo was right there, his hair slicked back, his face close.
“I love you,” Wonwoo said.
Mingyu kissed him. The water moved around them, gentle and dark.
They walked back up the stone steps hand in hand, the sand washed away, their skin cool and clean. The villa lights glowed ahead, warm and welcoming.
Mingyu led him past the main building, past the pool, to a corner of the property he had noticed since they got there but never found the perfect time to try. A small outdoor shower, tucked behind a screen of tropical plants and stacked stones. The shower head jutted out from a wooden post, the water fed from a copper pipe.
Mingyu turned the handle. The water sputtered, then streamed out, warm and steady.
He stepped under it. The water ran over his shoulders, down his chest, darkening the waistband of his shorts. He gestured for Wonwoo to join him.
Wonwoo stepped under the spray. The water hit his skin and immediately began to stream off in rivulets, tracing the lines of his body. He reached out and placed his palms flat on Mingyu’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat under the warm cascade.
Then Wonwoo gently took of Mingyu's shorts and briefs letting his husband's thick and hard cock free. Then he does take his off too. His own cock starting to harden again. They didn’t speak. The only sounds were the water hitting the stone and their quiet breathing.
Mingyu’s hands settled on Wonwoo’s waist. He pulled him closer, until their bodies were flush, the water running between them. His mouth found Wonwoo’s, slow and soft. The kiss tasted like salt and clean water.
Wonwoo’s hands slid up from Mingyu’s chest to his shoulders, then into his wet hair. He pulled him deeper into the kiss, his tongue sweeping in, and Mingyu responded with a low sound that vibrated against his lips.
Mingyu’s hands moved lower, cupping Wonwoo’s backside, squeezing gently. Wonwoo’s hips pressed forward, their lengths sliding together under the water. The friction was slick and warm, and both of them gasped into the kiss.
They moved together, slow and deliberate. Their cocks rubbed against each other, the water providing a smooth glide. Mingyu’s hands gripped Wonwoo’s hips, guiding the rhythm. Wonwoo’s arms wrapped around Mingyu’s neck, his forehead pressing to his.
“My man,” Wonwoo whispered.
“My Husband.”
The words sent a shiver through both of them. The pace quickened, just slightly. Their breathing turned ragged, mixing with the sound of the falling water.
Mingyu’s hand slid between them. He wrapped his fingers around both their lengths, holding them together, and stroked. The sensation drew a sharp moan from Wonwoo, his hips bucking into the grip.
“Together,” Mingyu breathed.
Wonwoo nodded, his eyes squeezed shut.
The strokes were fast now, urgent, the water streaming over their joined hands. Mingyu’s other arm locked around Wonwoo’s waist, holding him steady.
Wonwoo came first, with a broken cry, his release mixing with the water streaming down their bodies. The sight of it, the feel of his body tightening and shuddering, pushed Mingyu over the edge. He followed with a groan, his forehead dropping to Wonwoo’s shoulder.
They stood there, panting, the water still going. The steam rose around them, curling into the night air.
Mingyu lifted his head. He looked at Wonwoo, the gorgeous love of his life.
“I love you,” Mingyu said.
Wonwoo smiled, soft and real. “I know.”
They finished rinsing off in comfortable silence. Mingyu turned off the shower, and they wrapped themselves in the oversized towels that hung on a nearby rack. The night air was cool on their damp skin.
They walked back into the villa, through the open living area, and stopped at the edge of the terrace. The stars were out now, scattered across the sky like salt on dark cloth. The ocean stretched below, invisible but audible, a constant, breathing presence.
Wonwoo leaned against the railing. Mingyu came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, his chin settling on his shoulder.
“Going back home soon,” Wonwoo said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“It’s going to be different.”
Mingyu pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “We’ll be different.”
“The rings stay on.”
“The rings stay on.”
Wonwoo’s hand came up to rest over Mingyu’s. The band caught the light from the villa, a small, steady gleam.
“What we shared here,” Wonwoo said, “it stays with us.”
Mingyu held him tighter. “Forever.”
