Work Text:
“Golden slumbers
Fill your eyes
Smiles await you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling
Do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby”
The sound of coffee being ground in the afternoon was such an outlandish concept for an out of the way coffee shop that only had customers in the morning.
But lately, Sphynx cafe had a daily afternoon regular. A skinny boy with blue hair trudged in often, always ordering a cup of americano that he only sniffed and warmed his hands with. He never took a single sip. It drove Minho, the other barista crazy.
“Jinwoo hyung!” Minho dramatically wilted on the counter, startling Jinwoo’s cat, Rei who sniffed disdainfully at the display. “I don't know why I am even roasting my arabica to dark perfection. He won't even taste it.” He whined. Rei stood up from his perch, batted at Minho’s hair and jumped from the counter.
As if summoned, a flash of blue passed by the big french windows. The tinkle of chimes sounded as the door swung open.
“Welcome back!” Jinwoo said brightly smiling.
The wraithlike boy shuffled to the counter, his cookie monster hair sticking up in weird places as if he just rolled out of bed and decided to get a cup of coffee he wouldn't drink.
“Americano?” Jinwoo asked.
The boy nodded and paid with a metal card.
“Sorry, ran out of change.” He whispered, hiding behind his thick bangs, his long silver earring swinging with the motion.
For all his bum-chic fashion, a metal card…
“That is fine. We take card.” Jinwoo slid the card and returned it to the boy. With a small bow, he went to his usual spot by the back windows, unobtrusive, but closer to the coffee counter and the cat tree where he paid his respects to the reigning monarch of the cafe. Princess Jhonny. Minho’s cat.
Aside from the customers of Sphynx cafe and lack thereof, there were more oddities that Jinwoo just lived with. For example, all employees must be cat owners and must be willing to bring their cats with them to work. That was perfectly fine with Jinwoo since he lived alone and he didn't want his cats to be lonely without him.
Another oddity was that as few as the customers were, the cafe never went bankrupt. After managing the place for two years, Jinwoo knew how much revenue went into it, and it was just enough to cover his, Minho’s and another part timer’s wages.
The operations continued anyway, and when he asked secretary Kwon, the person who hired him (he has not seen the actual owner either), he was told not to worry about it, the cafe will never close for as long as someone wished to work there.
At first he thought it was a cover business for the mafia. He spent two months nervously observing the customers that came in, if there were any suspicious activities that happened. After weeks of constant vigilance, he was finally convinced that he watched too many movies and that the owner just had a lot of money to burn.
They never declined Jinwoo’s requests whenever repairs were needed. Any broken appliances were replaced within the same day. Jinwoo was also given a company card under his name to use whenever he wanted to do promotional stuff (which always brought extra income to the cafe, he was proud to say.)
Distantly, he heard Minho whine and gripe while making their sole customer’s coffee.
“I'm sorry beans. Your efforts are all in vain.” Minho whispered, rubbing the cup with his fingers.
“Maybe you can offer him our new cake?” Jinwoo patted his butt in consolation, as he passed to deliver the steaming cup to the blue haired boy.
“Hyung he is sleeping.” Minho whispered, beckoning for him.
The boy was indeed curled up in the wingback chair, all skinny pale legs, Jhonny squished into whatever space in between his legs and body, looking perfectly content, if the leisurely swishing tail was any indication.
“I wonder why he is tired all the time?” Minho said quietly beside Jinwoo.
*
He was too thin.
Minho was distracted by the collarbones poking out of the customary thin white shirt the boy always wore.
“Americano?” He said, resigned.
The boy nodded and handed him the exact bills.
As Minho apologized to yet another heroic batch of coffee beans, the boy went to his spot as Jinwoo and Minho had taken to calling the big chair.
“Seungyoonie, I want you to try our new cake pop!” Jinwoo, his manager, walked towards their customer with a pink thing on a stick.
“Seungyoon.” Minho murmured to himself.
To their surprise, after a month of regularly rejecting Minho’s coffee, the boy unwrapped the cake pop and took a bite.
Jinwoo beamed, and as if unable to help himself, patted him on the head. “Do you like it?”
“Sweet.” He replied, but kept eating.
The coffee went cold untouched.
*
He was on the floor between the armchair and the cat tree playing with the cats, lips pouted as Jhonny swatted at Bei.
“That’s not nice, princess.” He said softly, scratching Jhonny behind the ear and doing the same for Bei.
The sounds of human activity was soothing to him. A particular sound, deep and slow when he spoke. It was like a magical cure. After years of depressingly sleepless nights, he felt the rare pull of sleep. At a cat cafe of all places.
But he wanted to hear more. He wanted more of the soothing cadence of his speech. The unusual inflections in his words as if on time with a hidden beat. He wanted to hear more.
So he kept coming back.
*
Minho kept glancing back to make sure he followed. It was like trying to lure a stray cat.
The wind was quite chilly that day, he regretfully looked over the boy who was stubbornly wearing a tshirt and joggers. Growling under his breath, he took off his overcoat, marched back and threw it around the boy’s shoulders. He was so thin that Minho had to wrap the belt twice around his waist.
Bony fingers circled his wrist. “You?”
“I have a sweater.” Minho said.
It was a ten minute walk from the cafe to his apartment. The scent of oil paint and linseed oil greeted them when he opened the door.
“Sorry it's a bit messy.” He said ruefully.
Seungyoon, all wide eyes and curiosity looked around his art studio where he spent most of his time outside of the cafe.
Jhonny meowed in welcome, by the stairs leading to the loft.
“Hi princess.” Seungyoon crouched to pick up the cat.
“Why do I get the feeling that you came here for my cat?” Minho shed his sweater and turned on the radiator. Seungyoon just smiled nuzzling orange fur.
“Do you mind if I turn on some music?” Minho asked. Seungyoon shook his head, Jhonny tired of his attention, jumped out of his arms and went back to her perch by the stairs.
Minho was doing a photography exhibition in two months. He was compiling pieces for his theme, ‘Repose’.
He knew what he wanted to do, but he had a spontaneous idea when he brought Seungyoon’s coffee that afternoon. The boy was watching Jinwoo decorate a cake, head tilted.
“Seungyoon, can I paint you?” Minho blurted out.
The boy looked at him, puzzled. “Sorry?”
“I meant paint on you. For my exhibit.” He was mentally screaming in his head at how weird he sounded that he almost didn't hear the quiet ascent.
“Okay.”
“It’s more photography, but I also paint on my subjects-,” He hurriedly explained.
“Yeah. Sure.” Seungyoon popped a ginger cookie in his mouth.
“If it’s too weird, I understand. You hardly know me-,” Scrambling for words.
“He said yes, Minho.” Jinwoo cut in loudly.
“Oh, okay.” Minho blanked.
“Pick me up in front after you close then.” Seungyoon said simply.
And so, here they were.
“So how do you want me?” Seungyoon’s rich dulcet tones doused him with uninvited impure thoughts that came out of nowhere, in perfect timing as Seungyoon peeled Minho’s coat off.
He felt his ears and the back of his neck heat up.
“Uh… how about you make yourself comfortable first? I need to set up.” He turned and hurried to his storage closet where he kept most of his art supplies, heart pounding.
He came back when he was calm enough, along with his body paints and unused brushes.
“Is your skin sensitive to anything? Latex?” Minho asked.
He shook his head. “I don't think so.”
“Okay then.”
*
Seungyoon never complained. Even when the brush tickled his skin that he just had to laugh. Each soft stroke was cool but immediately warmed up to his flesh. His cheek down to his jaw, his neck, his collar.
Sometimes Minho would start on his pinky finger, trailing dreamy colors up his arm. The designs were sometimes very intricate, sometimes just random patterns and splotches of paint. Sometimes he would use his own fingers instead of brushes to spread the color.
Seungyoon liked it the best when Minho used his fingers.
The paint was warm then, each design felt personal. Almost intimate. Every pass of color felt like a caress.
Minho would speak to him and he would listen, absorbing the vibrations of his voice so close to him that he felt his breath on his skin. Seungyoon breathed him in. He smelled like coffee, paint and sunshine. His presence was light but constant.
Seungyoon closed his eyes.
*
Minho had gotten Seungyoon in various states of sleep. Most of these times were during their painting sessions. The boy would just drift off and lay pliant to however Minho would position him. He tried to avoid repositioning him though as that would inevitably wake him up and Seungyoon looked as if he needed all the sleep he can get. Dark circles always ringed his eyes. He was always worryingly thin and exhausted.
He could count the pearls of his spine as Minho painted flowers on his nape and shoulders. The creamy skin was so close that Minho could smell the warm strawberry scented body wash that the younger used. He was shirtless for this piece and Minho was painting a dreamscape on his back, a nymph crouched in the same position Seungyoon was in, blanketed by flowers. Deep blue ones.
Seungyoon was humming under his breath. His pleasant voice sounding an unfamiliar tune. Minho continued painting, adding some red to it.
More minutes passed, Seungyoon’s posture was more and more relaxed. Minho almost laughed when he went out of balance, falling sideways, until he saw the look on Seungyoon’s face as he scrambled for purchase.
Like someone who woke up from a nightmare, Seungyoon’s eyes were dazed and fearful, breathing hard, his pulse was beating like a trip hammer at the base of his neck.
Minho sat stock still, he heard that it wasn't good to startle sleepwalkers, he figured it also applied to people who woke up from nightmares.
“Yoon.” He whispered, slowly reaching towards the boy.
As if his voice triggered his consciousness, Seungyoon snapped back into focus, eyes finding Minho’s face, worried.
“It's me.” Minho took the younger’s hand and squeezed. It was cold.
“Minho.” Seungyoon breathed his name, like a prayer.
As if finally remembering where he was, Seungyoon snapped back into reality, his eyes focused on the smear of paint on Minho’s hand.
“Oh no!” He exclaimed, getting up towards the full length mirror looking at the painting. “I ruined it.”
A red swath ran across the entire image. It wasn't just a smudge than can be easily repaired.
“I'm so sorry. Your beautiful painting.” Seungyoon turned back to Minho, his expression so close to crying, his entire body braced as if expecting Minho lash out at any moment.
Truly, it wasn’t something to be worked up about, it was only a painting. It was definitely not something he would get mad at Seungyoon for, especially if it was caused by him resting.
But Minho was unsettled by Seungyoon’s obvious nightmare and also his reaction.
“It’s okay, Yoon. Don’t be upset.” He said gently, petting the younger’s head.
“But I ruined it!”
“It was my fault.” Minho said. “I forgot the time. I shouldn’t have had you in that uncomfortable position for so long.” He smiled reassuringly.
Seungyoon searched his face with guileless eyes, looking for any doubt in his words.
“Would you still allow me to take a picture of you today?” Minho asked carefully.
“Even with this?” Seungyoon gestured to his back.
“Yeah.”
The boy nodded.
The picture had Seungyoon in side profile holding Jhonny, his face almost hidden in the orange fur. The painting was slightly blurred, but the unmistakable red stripe was there.
Minho titled the piece, ‘Remorse’.
*
After that episode Seungyoon seemed a little more cautious about falling asleep during their painting sessions, in spite of Minho reassuring him that he could be more comfortable.
At the cafe, Jinwoo sometimes allowed Mino to paint on Seungyoon. He especially loved doing it when Seungyoon inevitably naps in his spot, and wakes up with colorful designs all over his arms, legs or whatever skin was exposed at the time. His expression of dawning delight when he woke up was something Minho has come to crave.
He was just about to gather his paints when the chimes sounded as the door opened. Minho stood up from his station, just as a tall man entered, a long blue coat draped over his shoulders, hair brushed up, dark sunglasses glinting. His demeanor screaming expense and circumstance.Not their usual customer. Especially during this time.
The newcomer didn't bother going to the counter, he made a beeline towards their sleeping regular, who was folded in the armchair, all coltish legs and pale skin. The man bent from his imposing height down to his knees in front of Seungyoon, reaching out, tenderly sweeping a lock of blue hair away from his face.
Minho felt a burn in his gut.
“Yoonie.” The man whispered, his light, soft spoken voice floated pleasantly.
Seungyoon stirred, his eyes opened drowsily, landing on the man in front of him. The change in Seungyoon was a revelation unto itself. His face melted into what could only be described as overwhelming love and affection. He raised his skinny arms and let his body fall towards the man who caught him with one arm and pulled him closer.
“I missed you.” Minho heard Seungyoon whisper, tucking his face into the newcomer’s neck. The man took off his sunglasses, the austerely handsome lines of his face softening with tenderness.
Minho rubbed the area below his chest, the uncomfortable feeling intensifying at the scene.
“Have you been eating well while I was away?” The same tenderness reflecting in his voice.
Seungyoon shook his head, “No. But I've been sleeping.” he murmured.
It struck Minho that Seungyoon never actually ate when he was at his apartment either even though he set out snacks for them. How was he so thoughtless? He clenched his fists in disappointment.
“You’ve been sleeping?” Something akin to relief crossed his face, long fingers threading through the hair at the back of Seungyoon’s head. “That’s good. But I wish you would eat more.”
The gentle reprimand had Seungyoon nodding. “I want kimchi fried rice.” He mumbled.
If possible, the stranger hugged him tighter. Minho belatedly noticed that the tall man’s left arm was in a sling. A fact that Seungyoon realized at the same time.
He pulled away, sitting upright, setting his feet on the floor. “You're hurt!” He exclaimed, inspecting every aspect of the other’s condition. “What happened?”
“I fell.”
Seungyoon’s skeptical look at the lame excuse made the other scratch his head ruefully.
“I wish I can tell you something heroic, but that is what happened.” Sitting back on his heels, the man looked around the cafe for the first time, his eyes landed on the cats that surrounded Seungyoon.
Jinwoo’s sphynx cats, Rei and Bei flanked the armchair. Jhonny was seated next to Seungyoon. All three creatures were shrewdly watching the encounter. Judging in their own way.
“You have quite the… unique friends there.” He reached a hand to Jhonny, who bristled and hissed.
Good girl.
“Princess, be nice.” Seungyoon scratched Jhonny behind the ears.
“Princess? That thing is a girl?”
Thing?
Offended, Minho finally walked from behind the counter. “Now see here, Jhonny is a beautiful, sweet little princess and no one is-,”
“Please have a cake pop, it’s on the house.” Jinwoo cut in before Minho had the chance to finish, handing a pink confection wrapped in clear plastic and sparkly ribbons.
The stranger, who dazedly accepted the treat, had the same reaction to Jinwoo as Minho when he first met the manager.
Stupefied.
Minho, with all his eye for beauty, can quite honestly say that Jinwoo probably had the most arrestingly beautiful face he has ever seen on a man. Elegant, well proportioned features that were borderline feminine. Features that, when put together, formed a spectacular masterpiece of a face.
It took several long seconds before the other man recovered. Jinwoo graciously allowed him that time, as he was used to such reaction. Minho felt grudging sympathy.
What broke the moment was when Rei got up from his perch and decided to rub his body against the stranger’s leg, diverting his attention.
Traitor.
“Oh, my cat likes you!” Jinwoo, the other traitor beamed.
“These are your cats?” The man hesitantly patted the hairless sphynx.
“Yes, I'm allergic to cat fur but I love cats. Plus, aren't they beautiful?” Jinwoo took the other sphynx and cradled it against his chest.
“Beautiful…” The other murmured. Jinwoo smiled happily.
“This one is my favorite.” Seungyoon interjected, hugging Jhonny to him. Minho felt warmth in his middle.
The other man ruffled Seungyoon’s hair and stood up. The height difference between him and Jinwoo became quite apparent. He was probably an inch taller than Minho. Unacceptable.
“Let’s go home, Yoon.” He held out his hand. Seungyoon took it and got to his feet. The difference between their stature made Seungyoon look absolutely waif like. He enfolded the younger under his uninjured arm, coat and all, and steered them to the door. Seungyoon waved cheerfully back at Minho and Jinwoo, they automatically waved back.
So they lived together.
“That was interesting.”
Minho couldn't agree.
*
“You're alone today.” His name was Seunghoon, Jinwoo found out. He was Seungyoon’s cousin.
“Minho was asked to fill in for a class today.” Jinwoo replied. At the other’s surprised look, “He is a painter and a photographer. Quite renowned, if you'd care to look.”
Seunghoon shrugged. Jinwoo stood there for a moment just watching the tall man who seemed to stroll in without a purpose, since Seungyoon was not at the cafe.
“I am closing at five. Wanna have a drink with me?” Jinwoo offered.
*
Minho mixed the crimson with a bit of yellow and a lot of white, creating a warm peach and applied a dot under Seungyoon’s eye, making a whimsical curlicue to join the filigree of pinks and blues on the side of his face. His silver earring delicately brushed Minho’s wrist each time he carefully moved position.
His head tilted up, Seungyoon’s eyes were closed, lashes resting against his cheeks. He was trustingly leaning against Minho, even breaths penetrating through the cloth of his shirt, through his chest. The vulnerability of the younger laid like a sacrifice in front of him. Teasing. Tempting.
Cautiously, Minho put his hand to Seungyoon’s cheek, the ivory skin was warm. His heart started beating rapidly, like a parade drum and his breath quickened. He could not stop staring at the plush red lips, ever so slightly parted. Were they really as soft as they looked?
“Yoon.” He whispered. He prayed that he didn't hear. He begged the higher power that he wouldn't respond. Yet his heart screamed. Do it.
Thick lashes fluttered, revealing brown fox-like eyes, limpid, warm. Breathtaking in their absolute innocence. And then that light morphed and darkened into unmistakable want.
“ Please.”
Minho did not have the strength to deny him.
Strawberries. Plump, ripe, summer strawberries. He tasted like pure sweetness.
Soft. So soft.
Minho was addicted.
He cradled the back of Seungyoon’s head, pulling back further. The plush mouth opened in invitation. Minho needed no further encouragement. He delved inside, his tongue meeting the other, who was shy and hesitant. He teased the boy, lightly brushing. So warm. So wet. So soft.
It's like he couldn't get enough. He wrapped his arm around Seungyoon’s waist and hauled him closer, flush to his own body. The younger gasped under him, literally sucking the breath from Minho’s lungs. He moaned.
He wanted to consume him. He wanted all that innocence. He was burning alive. The fire spreading all over him, down his chest, his loins. He ached.
Seungyoon released Minho’s shoulders, he didn't even realize the younger was holding on to him too, pulling him in. Dragging soft fingertips into his skin. Marking him. Minho groaned when Seungyoon wrapped his legs around his hips and felt the erection there.
He lightly bit Seungyoon’s lip and trailed kisses down his cheek, his jaw, his neck branding him as he went. The silky skin turned red with his attention. He laid a final imprint on his collarbone, grazing his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. Seungyoon throatily moaned and ground their clothed cocks together.
Minho claimed that sound into himself. He fused their mouths together once more, drinking him in, devouring every sound. He slipped his hand under Seungyoon’s shirt, feeling the burning, alabaster skin of his back, lovingly caressing the divot of his spine up to the wing of his shoulder.
So soft. So fragile. So alive.
He drew his hand back down, cupping Seungyoon’s ass, aggressively grinding their hips in the suggestive motions of sex. Seungyoon broke from his kiss as he gave another throaty cry, his face diving into Minho’s neck. Minho paused for a moment, thinking he may have moved too fast. Waiting.
He felt small teeth bite his shoulder.
That proved to be his undoing.
*
The room was dark but the pink rays of dawn started seeping into his curtains. Minho’s hand lazily drifted on the lingering warmth of the bed.
He closed his eyes at the memory of Seungyoon, pressing his hot cheek on Minho’s chest, licking his sternum. The cool strands of hair a juxtaposition to the fire within. As the culmination of their act neared, Seungyoon, whose breathy moans were driving Minho insane, looked down at him, tenderly coursing his fingers through his hair and softly said, “I painted you.”
Smears of bright colors were all over Minho’s body, especially his face and neck. Under the veil of fading darkness, Minho took a picture of himself.
The piece was called ‘Relent’.
*
He didn't know exactly how ended up sprawled on top of Seungyoon’s cousin. Naked.
All he remembered was having drinks with him and everything was a blur of playing darts, karaoke and cuddling.
Still, it was a fact that he could not deny, based on the pleasant soreness of his body, evidencing vigorous activity, that it was quite a fun time. Also he was naked.
He stirred from his warm resting place, feeling the pinch in his lower back, wincing a little. A leanly muscled arm came around his back and lightly kneaded. He resisted the urge to purr.
“Did you sleep well?” Voice still raspy from sleep, Seunghoon looked like a drowsy, debauched demigod, black hair fanned around his face.
“Yeah. I will need an ibuprofen though.” He replied, as he lifted himself gingerly off the man, his body protesting any sort of movement. He lay on his side, still facing Seunghoon, his head on his shoulder. He smelled divine. Like cologne, rain and sex. He wanted to stick his nose into his neck and just live like that.
“Sorry. Was I too rough?” Strong fingers kneaded the stiff muscles of his back so well that he really did purr.
He shook his head, “You were great. I’d like to be top next time though.” He said, looking at Seunghoon’s face for his reaction.
A slow smile lifted the corners of his handsome mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Just when he was about to cuddle closer, footsteps came from outside the bedroom.
“Hyung.” Seungyoon’s voice called out.
Both of them jerked their heads towards the door just in time to see the knob turn and open.
Seungyoon, for whatever reason, covered all over with smudged paint, popped in. They did not have the time to make themselves decent and just lay there frozen.
“Oh, hi, Jinwoo hyung.” He said distractedly.
“H-hey.” He gave a weak wave.
“Seunghoon hyung, have you seen my capo?” The younger asked.
“The housekeeper put it in your studio.” Seunghoon answered.
“Oh okay.” The boy left.
Seunghoon’s body started shaking with mirth. Jinwoo slapped his chest and sank into him in mortification. He usually wasn't shy about his affairs, but he was never blatantly walked in on during one either.
Also, they had a housekeeper?
Come to think of it, Seunghoon’s room alone was the size of Jinwoo’s entire apartment and hallway. He looked around and saw the obvious expense of the place. Suddenly, uncomfortable, he started getting up.
“Hey, where are you going?” Seunghoon tried to pull Jinwoo to him again, but Jinwoo already had his feet on the heated floor. He was about to stand but his hips hurt that he hissed. He was then reminded of the time his legs were high up on Seunghoon’s shoulders...
“What’s wrong?” Seunghoon held his hand, his face concerned.
“Yeah, I really need that ibuprofen now.” Jinwoo said, feeling the various aches of his body now that he was fully awake, seldomly used muscles letting their presence known.
Seunghoon got up, giving Jinwoo a small comforting hug and went to, what Jinwoo assumed, was the bathroom. Naked.
Belated modesty had Jinwoo furiously blushing at the sight. But he still looked though. Sue him.
Seunghoon’s body looked as if it was proportioned by divine beings, his torso and legs muscled to lean perfection, taut and firm. His ass needed to be insured as a piece of art.
Not to mention, the man was exceptionally gifted there.
Which was why Jinwoo found himself in the bathtub, with said exceptionally gifted person, soaking the pains away.
“I'm sorry.” Seunghoon murmured against his shoulder, his arms circling Jinwoo’s waist, the temporary brace taken off so it wouldn't get wet. “I will go gently next time.”
“Don’t you dare.” Jinwoo nuzzled his jaw, comfortable in the steaming heat of the water, scented oils wafting delicate scents around them.
The bathroom was huge. It was covered in white marble, hand a separate shower and custom bath, and it had a chandelier. A chandelier. He was slightly convinced that a rap video was going to be shot there any minute. That or a porn scene. Well, technically…
Jinwoo shook his head and went straight to the matter.
“So… either you and Yoonie have a sugar daddy, or you are the sugar daddy.” Jinwoo blurted out.
Seunghoon was laughing again, squeezing Jinwoo who sat in front of him, with his arms and legs. It honestly gave him a warm fuzzy feeling that he did not dare entertain.
“What do you think?” Seunghoon asked.
Suddenly feeling trapped in his own question, Jinwoo said, “You look like you work hard.”
Seunghoon’s expression turned sleazy. “Yes. I am hard working.”
Jinwoo gave a scandalized giggle and struggled out of his arms. “Regret. So much regret.” He slapped at the hands that were tickling him, mindful not to hit the injured one. “Forgive me father for I have sinned by sleeping with such a greasy excuse of a man.”
Arms imprisoned by stronger ones, a suggestive tone murmured dangerously behind his ear, “How about we rephrase that to, ‘I’m sorry daddy, I’ve been bad.’?”
Jinwoo ended up needing to soak a second time that day.
*
Seungyoon stayed over at his apartment often. So often that he actually gave him a spare key which the other never used. He just waited for Minho to finish at the cafe, along with the coffee he never drank.
“How come you never drink the coffee you buy?” Minho asked one day, during yet another painting session, this time, he was painting Seungyoon’s thigh with random musical notes and an eerie looking choir.
Seungyoon blinked down at him, his customary drowsy eyes looking at Minho’s painting hand.
“I don’t like coffee.” He said.
Minho dropped the brush.
“And you didn’t think to tell me this? After two months?” He exclaimed, slapping his own forehead in exasperation. “I've been killing beans for no reason?”
Seungyoon ducked his head looking very uncomfortable. It was as if he withdrew into himself.
Minho immediately moved to rectify this, catching his downy cheeks with both hands.
“Hey.” He said, gentling his tone considerably. Seungyoon’s eyes remained stubbornly downcast, biting his lips in consternation. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Yoonie.”
Seungyoon’s hand came around his wrist. Delicate, pale fingers, blushing at the tips. They were probably Minho’s favorite part of him. He kissed those too.
Seungyoon lunged at Minho, arms going around his neck, hands tangling with his hair. Minho’s palette and tray of brushes fell to the floor with a loud crash as he caught the boy. He didn't care.
The moment Seungyoon's pillowy mouth found his, he forgot about everything. His soft little tongue lapping at the seam of his lips, he groaned and let him in.
So sweet.
His hands gripped Seungyoon’s bony hips and thrusted harshly against him, regretting the cloth covering them. Seungyoon seemed to share the same sentiment, he separated from him and stripped. Minho admired the slim lines of his body, smooth and flushed just like his fingers.
He sat on the floor just marvelling at the sight, even though he has seen it multiple times since they first had sex. Touched and tasted. Adored.
“Come here.” he rasped.
Seungyoon obediently fell to his knees, between his own, grasping Minho’s shirt and helping him out of it.
Minho pressed him close, savoring the feel of him, bare and almost shivering. Seungyoon melted into him, his fluffy hair tickling Minho’s neck. So warm.
The strawberry scented skin was so intoxicating, Minho was lost in the sensation of just purely holding him.
“Yoonie… Seungyoonie…” Minho made a path of kisses and licks down his neck, savoring.
Not enough.
He swiftly changed their position, pushing Seungyoon down on the floor, the other whining at the sudden cold on his back.
There, under the bright lights of his studio, Seungyoon lay bare, spread and vulnerable. His flawless skin flushed in areas like a blushing peach.
“Minho.” The boy sobbed, arms reaching for him. He was too far. “ Please. ” The imploring note of his voice flipped a switch in him.
He shouldn't have to beg, but it sounded so sweet to him.
Minho was weak.
*
Hot. It was so hot.
He couldn't do anything but hold on, the wild ride buffeting his insides. His mind was a tempestuous haze of lust and wanting.
He held on.
The tattooed shoulders were slick with sweat, shining. He pressed his lips to the long, honeyed neck and touched his tongue to the rapid pulse, teeth grazing over the skin, latching on and pulling the redness to the surface. Leaving his mark.
His.
The thrusts intensified as his partner snarled with pent up desire. The feeling built up inside him, blistering hot, about to explode. At the edge of a precipice, about to fall from such a great height.
He let go.
He has never felt more secure.
*
Gentle breaths permeated the moon bathed studio. Minho cradled Seungyoon to him, carefully skimming his hand over his skin, regretfully tracing the shadowy marks on his hip. The shape of his own fingers.
The first time he saw them, he panicked, apologizing, the mood totally gone at the thought of hurting him.
“I bruise easily.” He said nonchalantly.
He did everything he could to be as mindful as possible, but it seemed no matter how gentle he was, a dark mark will inevitably end up on Seungyoon’s delicate skin.
Love marks were different. They were left deliberately, announcing to the world that Seungyoon belonged to him. They did not cause pain.
He never wanted to cause him pain. Ever.
He kissed those dark marks reverently each time. Wishing them away, at the same time knowing that they were proof of their time together.
“Why do you do that?” Seungyoon asked one day, after Minho pressed an apologetic kiss to a bruise on his thigh.
“I hurt you.” He whispered.
Seungyoon cupped Minho’s face. “I would rather take pain from you, than pleasure from others.”
His heart skipped a beat. He then kissed the frail wrist, and traced the delicate veins.
“I don't want to hurt you.” He confessed rawly.
“Only I decide what hurts me.”
Minho stared deeply into the trusting, dark amber eyes, seeing no hint of doubt. No dishonesty. Only blatant emotion.
And there, Minho vowed to himself, that he would die first than hurt this person.
*
“So my cousin and your barista are fucking.” Seunghoon mentioned casually one afternoon.
Jinwoo was snipping off twigs from his mint. It grew so fast, he almost couldn't keep up with it. Maybe he could make an extract. Or maybe he could also make ice cream? Mint ice cream with a little shot of creme de menthe would be great too. Maybe with some chocolate shavings.
“We are fucking.” Jinwoo said blandly.
“Point taken.” Seunghoon raised his glass and laid back on Jinwoo’s sofa, his marvelously long body sprawled indolently with only his shirt and boxers on.
Jinwoo’s cats were curled up by Seunghoon’s head, the felines occasionally trying to groom him, and Seunghoon not minding at all.
“If you're trying to ask whether Minho is a good person, I trust him with my bank account, my life and my cats.” He murmured. “I don't trust him with my plants though, he killed so many, overwatering them, but oh well.”
Seunghoon visibly relaxed. It heartened him that the other regarded his opinion that highly to take his word especially about the guy who was boning his cousin. He chewed a mint leaf.
*
He watched the most beautiful man putter around the kitchen, preparing all sorts of stuff, making the entire house smell like mint.
Seunghoon preferred going to Jinwoo’s place than taking him to the penthouse he and Yoon shared.
His house was a bungalow a few blocks from the cafe. Close to where Minho also lived, Jinwoo pointed at a loft complex when they were walking to his place.
Jinwoo’s house was a home.
It was lived in. It was warm.
It was loved.
When he was away for days at a time, the mausoleum they called home left him cold. He could only imagine how Yoonie felt when he was alone.
He was honestly glad that he had Minho now. Coming home with smudged paint, refusing to wash it off and having it rub on the sheets and furniture was way better than when he used to see his cousin just stare blankly at the wall because he couldn't sleep.
It was better than when he would compose heartbreaking songs that no one but Seunghoon will ever hear.
It was better than when Seunghoon had to physically brace the boy against his own body, to hold him while he was screaming away the pain.
The pain of separation. Loss.
Of being forgotten.
Seunghoon was glad his cousin found Minho. But his overprotective side could not help but be vigilant in watching over him. He did not want Seungyoon to be hurt ever again. Not when he was the kindest, most gentle boy. The most loving. The most loyal.
He wanted to explain to Minho what treasure he was given. But at the same time, it wasn't his story to tell.
“Sad thoughts?” Jinwoo’s kind voice smoothed the thoughts away, while his hand brushed Seunghoon’s cheek. It came away wet.
“Old memories.” He answered and turned his head.
A warm body settled on top of his comfortably, smelling of mint and flowers. He felt the strong steady heartbeat against his own.
He held it close to him.
Maybe.
Just maybe, he found something too.
*
The exhibit was a success.
Everyone was vying for Minho’s attention. Everyone wanted to commission him.
He was very selective ever since. He guessed that the exclusivity was like a drug to rich people. They were willing to pay wads of cash to get a single artwork.
But the purpose of his exhibition was to share his art, not to sell it. He was doing quite well in commissions, but this exhibit was close to his heart and he was not willing to part with a single frame.
He was giving the entire collection to Seungyoon.
They say that the easiest way to find what was most important to an artist was to look at the subject of their work.
Minho took pictures of Jhonny.
He took pictures of Jinwoon who was also quite photogenic so it was doubly pleasant.
He took some pictures of Seunghoon just because he was a model.
Seungyoon had the most photos.
Majority of then were of him sleeping. His favorites were when Seungyoon fell asleep on him.
Those pictures he kept for himself.
*
The late afternoon sun soaked pleasantly into his leather jacket as he walked back to his own apartment.
The street was deserted save for one person. The familiar blue hair walked customarily slow, like a leisurely stroll.
“Yoonie!” He called.
The other halted in his tracks and saw him.
“Hyung!” He approached, smiling brightly. There was a smear of prussian blue on his face.
“Going home?” He asked the boy.
“Yeah. Minho and I just finished a painting session.”
“I thought the exhibit was done? Why are you still smudged all over?”
To his amusement, a dark red climbed up from Seungyoon’s neck to his face.
“I-, we- uhm.” Seungyoon turned this way and that, avoiding his older cousin’s stare. Did he honestly think Seunghoon didn’t know about their ‘painting sessions’?
Taking pity on him, he took his hand and twined their fingers together.
“Let's go home.”