Work Text:
Taemin can’t believe his eyes.
He initially thought the pink and black box looked a bit suspicious from the beginning, knowing fully well that Minho’s gifts were never this flashy, at least on the outside.
But what was in it was even more terrifying.
“I got you something,” Minho had said earlier in the day, nodding his head towards a large brown package placed on the floor in the corner of the living room.
Taemin was glued to his laptop at the time, totally absorbed in some weekend family drama with high ratings that he’d heard about. “Mhm,” he hummed in a non-committal manner, never taking his eyes off the screen. (Looking back, that was Taemin’s first mistake; if only he spared just a second away from his drama to catch the smirk on his boyfriend’s face as he informed him of that package). But Minho eventually left for work a while later, shortly after Taemin had kissed him goodbye.
It’s been about five hours since then, and Taemin is currently gaping at the contents inside the box like an idiot, red heat spreading across his face at an alarming rate.
Choi Minho. That cheeky bastard.
The maid costume is folded in clear packaging, sitting neatly atop multiple layers of bright pink tulle and matching decorative paper. The visible part looks to be inspired by a Victorian-style French maid, similar to the ones he’s seen in Japanese animations, and there’s a small business-type card attached to the box. Taemin picks it up slowly, and it reads:
“For Taemin, my beloved!”
A personalized card? Retrospectively, it does look like Minho spent a fair amount of money on this - which meant that the older man had to have carefully thought it through before giving in and investing in a cosplay outfit with the expectation for his boyfriend to, well, wear it.
It's sort of embarrassing. Taemin would've never guessed that this would be Minho's kind of thing, but surely enough the prospects of dressing up for Minho, not to mention the possibilities that could follow that endeavour, somehow makes Taemin’s stomach bubble with ... anticipation.
He can't say he's not in the least bit curious; that would be a lie. He might as well open it up to see what it's all about.
And okay, this is certainly not what he's expecting. At all.
The costume actually comes in two pieces: the top piece is cropped and translucent, something like a chiffon material adorned with puffed sleeves, a peter-pan collar and a big pink bow at the neckline. The second piece follows the same sort of concept; a little flared skirt complete with a frilly white apron that covers the front and ties around the waist. Also extremely short, much shorter than what the typical maid outfit would allow. Taemin can already tell that it would not offer any type of protection to his backside, so if he bends over, his bare ass is sure to be left hanging out in the open.
(Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably what Minho intends to happen.)
Setting the garments aside, Taemin fishes through the remnants of the box. Turns out that the set includes a plethora of extra accessories: frilly thigh garters for both legs with matching wrist cuffs, along with a pair of long white stockings decorated with dainty pink bows on the front. There’s also a bonnet that seems to double as a headband, something that resembles a choker necklace, and lastly, an ominous-looking piece of fabric packaged in a clear bag and tucked neatly at a corner. That catches Taemin’s eye, so he reaches for it, opening it up with haste.
Well, he really should’ve seen this coming.
It’s lingerie, a delicate-looking pair of sheer panties that connects to nothing but a lacy string at the back. Again, very small. Taemin highly doubts that the scanty piece of fabric at the front would even fit over what it's supposed to cover.
This has to be a joke.
Taemin dials Minho’s number and he picks it up right away - just after the first ring, which makes Taemin wonder if the older man is expecting his call.
“My beloved Taeminnie,” Minho teases in a high tone, alluding to the message written on the greeting card. Oh, he's expectant alright.
Taemin can only scoff in disdain. “You’ve really done it this time, hyung. A maid costume?”
“What? You don’t like it?” comes Minho’s reply from the other line, and that delivers a guttural blow to Taemin’s bluff - he practically sees the childish sulk on Minho’s face as he says it, for crying out loud.
“No! I mean ... it’s cute, yes. But do you really want me to wear it?” Taemin asks, fiddling with his bangs anxiously.
(A stupid question really, since he already knows the answer, but he’s at least thankful that they’re talking about this over the phone and Minho can’t see the way his face flares up like crazy at the mere thought of him in that maid costume).
Minho laughs at the inquiry, the kind that causes a dreadful feeling to rise up Taemin’s throat. “Of course I do, Taemin-ah. Tonight, actually.”
“Tonight?” Taemin shrieks.
“Yes,” Minho answers bluntly.
Taemin fumbles with his words, unable to hide his embarrassment, “But I- hyung, it comes with panties! like, really tiny panties! Did you know that?”
“Why do you think I bought it?”
This time Minho’s voice is deep, almost sinister, and Taemin is officially at a loss for words.
“It's okay if you don't want it,” Minho continues matter-of-factly, like this is a perfectly normal discussion to have over lunch break, “But I would really love if you could at least try it on once, just for me. Wanna see how pretty you'd look in it.”
Okay, so it seems like Minho is pretty serious about this. Taemin leans against the wall and draws in a sharp breath. It’s still so weird to him; Taemin always thinks of himself as the friskier one in the relationship, but then Minho would have his moments where he’d do a complete 180 on Taemin and leave him speechless. Very weird.
But maybe it’s pure intuition by now: the image of him dressed up in barely-there clothing gradually becoming clearer and clearer in his mind as Minho talks, the way that mental picture sends a chill down his spine (and other places, too).
“Hyung,” Taemin says, eyelids blinking shut, “Please, just ... shh. Stop.” It’s for his own sake.
“Is that how a maid talks to his master?”
Taemin’s eyes snap open, and he’s greeted with Minho’s manic laughter ringing in his ears. “You’re vile,” is all he can muster.
“And you love me.”
“Goodbye.”
Taemin hangs up.
~
Eventually, Taemin's burning curiosity wins him over and the maid outfit is a perfect fit on him (unsurprisingly.)
Staring at the full-length mirror in their shared bedroom, Taemin must admit he actually looks really good, a thousand times better than what he would’ve expected. The top is see-through and cinches just right under his nipples, leaving much of his slim torso on display. He’s right about the length of the skirt though, the hem barely meets the lower part of his asscheeks. Indecent, Taemin thinks, but he's sure Minho would appreciate the view.
Thankfully, the panties don't look as ridiculous as he'd originally thought. In fact, it's kind of sexy in a way, the intricate baby pink material stretching past its limits against his bare skin and accentuating the gentle curve of his cock.
But Taemin still chews on his bottom lip, twisting and turning around as he analyzes his reflection from different angles. He's struggling, trying to figure out how he feels about being all dolled up like this - one thing he can deduce is that the clothes look delicate, soft and pretty on his skin.
And if there's one thing Taemin likes, it's anything that feeds his narcissism indulgence: in this case, feeling pretty.
Taemin is smug as he unlocks his phone and snaps a full-body picture of himself in front of the mirror. He’s well aware of Minho’s true intentions and the ulterior motives behind wearing the costume, so he’s going to drag this out as much as he can even before Minho gets home.
Although only one picture seems far too little, Taemin decides. Maybe Minho would like to see more; perhaps some closeups of just how well the small cropped shirt hugs him in all the right places and covers virtually nothing, or how the long sheer stockings compliments his thin legs and clean-shaven thighs. So he tries out a couple other poses and clicks away - making sure to throw in a few of him kneeling on the floor and raising the front of his skirt slightly, teasing at what he’s got underneath. He giggles as he looks over the pictures he’s taken. It's everything that he'd hoped for. Minho is certainly going to lose his mind over how damn good he looks.
‘How is it?’ Taemin types out and attaches some of his favourite shots to the text, then gleefully hits send. He’s done this countless times so he knows how it works by now: a more innocent-sounding text would pique Minho's interest, then that would slowly materialize until all Minho can think about is coming home and meeting his boyfriend in his pretty clothes and lacy panties. What happens afterwards is ... not hard to guess.
Minho’s reply comes in, and Taemin opens up the message with his heart pounding in his ears.
‘Taemin-ah …’
Taemin lets out a satisfied hum. It looks like he’s definitely gotten Minho all riled up, speechless even, judging from the way his typing indicator keeps disappearing and reappearing in the chat. Things are working out according to plan. Mission accomplished.
Another response chimes in. ‘I’ll be home in an hour.’ it says, simple and straightforward just like the older man. To be honest, the quietest breath slips from Taemin’s mouth at the insinuation behind the words, but of course he can’t let Minho have the last laugh. Ever.
'Safe driving, hyung. Remember to keep your eyes on the road and not on my panties.’
~
It doesn’t take long until Taemin hears the front door slamming shut, followed by the distant sound of footsteps treading quietly across the floor.
From where he’s seated, anticipation mixed with obscure excitement rushes through Taemin’s veins at an all time high. He doesn’t know what to expect of Minho, doesn’t know how the older man would react to the sight of him in this costume, sprawled out on their shared bed for his viewing pleasure. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but this is a new experience and the thought of what could unfold starting from now makes him flustered. A bit overwhelmed, even.
“Taeminnie?” Minho’s voice rings out from down below, causing Taemin to straighten up abruptly, “I’m back, where are you?”
“Up here,” Taemin replies in what he hopes is a loud enough voice.
The footsteps are now getting closer, which means that Minho must be making his way up the stairs. Taemin leaps off the bed and paces around the room, trying to swallow down the panic settled deep in his chest as a million thoughts swarm his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone through with this - what if Minho doesn’t like how it looks on him? What if he doesn’t live up to this ‘fantasy’ that Minho is trying to create? Minho can be quite blunt with his words at times, so what if he expresses disappointment? What happens then?
Before Taemin can think of possible answers to those questions, the bedroom door swings open and his breath catches in a gasp.
Lo and behold, Minho is standing at the doorway with huge, unblinking eyes focused on Taemin. His expression is quite hard to decipher - underneath the shock he looks almost inquisitive, mouth pressed into a thin line as he takes in the vision across from him. He doesn’t say a single word, so Taemin coughs awkwardly, starting to feel self-conscious.
“Stop looking at me like that and say something,” Taemin mumbles, fidgeting with the frills on the hem of his apron. With Minho here, the burst of confidence from a few hours ago seems to have vanished into thin air, and now a huge part of him just wants to run and hide somewhere.
However Minho remains in his spot, eyes raking over Taemin’s body with intense appraisal. A slow smile then spreads on his face. “Taemin,” he finally says, taking a few careful steps towards the younger man, “You really wore it …”
Taemin tries to mask his flush. “Yeah, you wanted me to wear it and I sent some really nice pictures to you, remember? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about them already or I’ll get angry, hyung. Hmph!” he says, looking away with a whip of his head for dramatic effect.
Minho can't help but giggle - Taemin giving him sass has to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Of course I remember them, but I wasn’t expecting you to leave it on like this,” he closes the gap between them, arms wrapping around Taemin’s waist to pull him closer to his body, “Though I’m really, really glad that you did, babe.”
“You like it on me?” Taemin’s voice is much softer now, humble. Minho’s embrace always feels gentle, as if he’s being enveloped with the warmest blanket; but it’s also strong and firm, protecting him from all harm in the world. Taemin lets himself sink further, deeper into his hold.
“I love it. You look so beautiful, Taemin. Absolutely breathtaking.”
Taemin’s heart soars at Minho’s sincerity. At times like these all he longs for is Minho’s approval; wants to be the center of his admiration.
Minho plants a quick peck on Taemin’s forehead, and then he’s gone. Before Taemin can register the empty space in front of him, Minho is already at the other side of the room, taking off his tie in earnest. Taemin frowns, confused.
“What are you doing?” he asks, propping a hand on his waist.
Minho looks up, “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, but-”
“Cereal does not count, Taemin. I’ve got some groceries downstairs, we’re having spaghetti aglio e olio for dinner.”
Taemin falters. Here he is, standing in their bedroom, looking utterly delectable in a skimpy maid costume and all Minho can think about is spaghetti aglio e olio? He stomps a socked foot in aggravation and crosses his arms, really starting to wonder if he read Minho wrong. “As a matter of fact, I wore this because I assumed we were fucking once you got home.”
“Hm?”
“So no, I don’t want spaghetti, hyung. Not right now. I want something else.”
Minho laughs again, clearly amused. Taemin knows his boyfriend probably doesn’t take him seriously, but he still commits to scowling as hard as he can at the older man. “Alright, alright … I was wrong for asking,” Minho quickly admits defeat with a playful grin, walking over to Taemin and showering him with more kisses in apology.
“Your kisses are nice, but I’m going to need you to fuck me already.” Taemin doesn’t mean to sound so demanding, but Minho has his lips on the juncture where the base of his neck and collarbone meet, a well-established special spot, and it's driving him crazy.
“Are you still wearing the panties?”
Minho mouths at Taemin’s ear, tongue flicking at the ridges and Taemin shivers. Yet another spot - fuck, how does Minho know him so well?
“They barely cover my cock. Wanna see?”
Taemin doesn't get an answer but he finds himself being shoved backwards and down on the bed, legs parted to accommodate the taller man between them. Minho leans down and claims Taemin’s lips once again, savouring the younger’s taste as his hand trails downwards to grip at the swell of his ass firmly. Taemin groans at that, a sound low in his throat, and Minho takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Taemin's mouth, overpowering all lines of reasoning with hazy, incoherent thoughts. The next thing Taemin realizes is his fingers entangled in Minho’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, yearning, wanting all that can be given.
“You’re so pretty, Taeminnie,” Minho says once he pulls away, reaching up Taemin's skirt and rubbing him through his panties. His hand glides over the sheer material relatively easily, palm cupping Taemin’s base then sliding up and down his length in a slow, sensual manner. “The prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
A desperate-sounding moan escapes from Taemin’s lips. The feeling of soft lace against the stiffness of his cock is one to revel in by itself, but Minho’s skilled strokes brings in a different sensation all together - unbearable heat brewing in the pits of his stomach, threatening to explode at any minute.
“Hyung,” he whispers, clutching onto Minho’s shirt collar and rolling his hips up against Minho’s hand shamelessly, “Give it to me, please.”
Minho licks his lips, drinking in the sight of the quivering male below him with a slight glint in his eye. It's a wonder to him, how easy it is for Taemin to come apart and become such a pliant, needy mess in his arms. But never mind that - it's still fucking hot, and it always makes Minho want to indulge further, to push the limits of his boundaries. “I would, since you’re so wet,” he says, swiping at the dampness spreading across the front of Taemin's crotch, “But you know you’d have to do better than that, baby.”
That causes Taemin to gasp, cheeks turning a bright pink. They haven’t even done anything yet he’s already rock hard, spilling precum all over himself from just rutting up on Minho’s palm alone. He should be embarrassed at the implications, but no, it has his cock throbbing with arousal, and it feels too good to be true.
“Work for it, Taemin.”
Minho mutters the words into Taemin’s skin, humming sweetly as he sucks and bites the pale flesh along the side of Taemin’s neck. At this point Taemin is unable to suppress the string of breathy, pitched noises that leave his mouth as Minho diligently marks him- it’s like nothing else matters to him in this moment; nothing beats the preeminent desire of wanting to be owned, used, and possessed entirely. It drives him deeper into that dreamlike headspace, the one that makes him feel like all the pent-up tension from days past is slowly melting off his body, leaving him numb, warm and floaty.
That effect is incredible, and Taemin shudders when he physically feels it overtake his whole being, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. All he wants to do is show Minho how capable he is, how well he can please him, and how good he can be for him.
“I’ll suck your cock,” Taemin pants, breathless, pupils dilating as he eagerly wets his lips at the thought. He runs his hands down Minho’s torso and settles them at his waist, tugging at his belt buckle with a sense of urgency, “I'll entertain you like a good slutty maid.”
A few seconds of silence ensues. Minho stills, but Taemin feels the other man’s bulge twitch against his own leg at the offer. Taemin bears a cocky smile, knowing he’s struck a vulnerable chord, “Yeah, you’d like that hyung?”
Minho doesn’t say anything, instead he taps his fingers on Taemin's chin and then pushes two fingers past his plush lips. Taemin doesn’t need to be told what to do - he instantly closes in around them and starts to suck, swirling his tongue around the digits with glorious expertise. Even when Minho’s fingers prod further inside his mouth he doesn’t waver, in fact he moans appreciatively, loving how Minho's fingertips alone rubs at the utmost parts of his throat. He must look absolutely sinful, can tell from the way Minho just stares at him, gaze darkening as he watches him suck in Minho’s fingers hungrily, giving him a small tease of what’s to come.
“Fuck, Taemin-ah, you’re insatiable,” Minho takes his fingers out with a pop, an obscene trail of spit stretching out at the action. He wipes the mess carelessly on Taemin’s cheek, “Such a dirty boy. Get on your knees for me, quickly.”
Taemin marvels at Minho’s tone of voice; it’s changed into something more demeaning, lacking any type of emotion, and it compels him to climb off the bed wordlessly, shuffling until he’s knelt down on the floor at Minho's feet. He makes a show of straightening out any wrinkles on his outfit and re-adjusting his headband bonnet before looking up at Minho innocently, hands folded politely in his lap as he awaits the next order.
“Oh look, so well-behaved,” But Minho can tell it's just another one of Taemin's bluffs, especially after seeing him slobber all over his fingers like a depraved person. He smirks, standing up so that his crotch is at eye-level with Taemin's face, "Want it?"
"I want it," Taemin slurs with heavy eyelids, unashamed of what he may sound like. "Want my throat fucked hard."
“It's all yours.”
And that's all it takes. Working quickly, Taemin unbuckles Minho’s belt and lets his dress pants fall to his ankles, freeing his cock from the tight confinement of his briefs. Taemin whines at the sight - it’s much thicker and longer than his own, with angry-looking veins running up and down the shaft. Overwhelmingly big, just like the rest of Minho.
There’s clear precum dribbling from the tip already, adding a lustrous sheen, and Taemin’s mouth fills with saliva immediately. It is pretty slutty, he supposes, drooling in front of cock like this, but he’s too far gone into his delirium to feel even an ounce of remorse. He wraps a hand around the base of Minho’s cock and slowly drags the wet tip across his swollen bottom lip in the most lewd way, maintaining eye-contact with Minho as he delivers small kitten licks around the engorged head.
Minho is impatient. "Don't tease me," he hisses, a hand coming down to grasp the back of Taemin’s head and plunge him down his length. It's sudden and Taemin sputters, but he recovers soon enough, exhaling through his nose and flattening his tongue to house the stretch Minho is giving him. Sucking cock shouldn’t evoke this much satisfaction in Taemin but his eyelids close, feeling his own cock strain as he whimpers at the fullness in his mouth, basking in the familiar musky tang on his tongue.
And fuck, maybe he was made for this.
Taemin proceeds to swallow further down the shaft, taking in as much as he can until the tip hits the back of his throat and his eyes water. He makes a strangled gargling sound at that, blinking away the tears that blur his vision. “That’s it baby,” Minho huffs as Taemin starts to move his head up and down, hollowing in his cheeks to increase suction, “You’re always so good at this."
The praise flows deliciously into Taemin’s ears, and he manages a muffled hum of appreciation in response. Eager to please, he grabs on to Minho's thighs and builds up a steady rhythm through consistent bobs of his head, slurping loudly as he fucks his mouth with Minho's cock. A slick mixture of spit and cum run down his chin, red cheeks wetting with sparse tears every time his nose reaches the neatly trimmed hairs on Minho’s pubic bone. But that doesn’t faze him - he lets Minho dig his nails into his scalp to hold his head in place while he thrusts into the tight, wet constricts of his throat without restraint. It’s messy, filthy, and Taemin loves every second of it.
"God, you feel amazing around me Taemin-ah. You're so perfect."
Minho is panting hard and moaning louder, rambling on about how beautiful Taemin looks gagging on his thick cock and all Taemin can do is kneel there and take it, head swelling with pride because he gets high on Minho's compliments, would do absolutely anything to get showered in them.
"You want me to fuck you, right baby?" Minho asks, flexing pelvic muscles warning of an approaching orgasm. Taemin lets himself off for some air, chest heaving with how out of breath he is, and he takes the opportunity to tongue at Minho’s slit and lick the veins along the underside. His jaw definitely feels sore already, but he can’t say he’s complaining.
“Yes,” he gazes up at Minho, eyes unfocused with lust. His voice is ragged, destroyed, “Fuck me, please. I’ve been so good, haven’t I?”
The hand wounded in Taemin’s hair slides down to caress his cheek softly, and Taemin keens into the touch. Something about the gesture makes him feel wanted, cherished, and most importantly, loved.
He's being carried, back hitting the mattress once again. The fogginess in his head doesn’t allow him to concentrate on anything other than Minho stepping out of his pants properly and unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the smooth, firm muscles and beautiful tanned skin that Taemin adores so much.
“Look at you,” Minho breathes out once he’s fully naked and nestled between Taemin’s open legs. He sucks a kiss to Taemin’s spit-slicked lips, smiling when he tastes himself on them, “Gorgeous boy, all dressed up and laid out for me to use. For me, and only me.”
Taemin sobs out, too overstimulated to respond. The maid outfit is sticking to his sweaty body and his cock is insufferably hard, with the soaked material of his panties rubbing against his sensitive head in a way that he can hardly bear. He wants to scream - at Minho, who’s currently dancing his fingers around his thigh garter tauntingly, to get on with it already and fuck him until he sees stars.
“How do you want it, hm? Hard and fast, or soft and slow? Tell me, Taemin. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”
It’s incredible, how those words uttered in that deep voice commands Taemin’s back to curve off the bed in submission. “Please, I need it so bad, want to feel you, please, please-” he’s blabbering mindlessly, dizzy with want, fantasizing about the pain and pleasure that comes with Minho pounding deep inside of him.
A proud smile nudges at the corners of Minho’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying Taemin's debauched form - he looks like a small, fragile little thing whenever he begs for cock like this, and god, Minho wants to ruin him so badly.
“Make it hurt, don't have mercy on me, please, wanna feel you for days,” Taemin continues, rocking his hips upwards in an attempt to create friction between them; anything to satisfy the ball of pressure wound up in him. Minho grazes the tip of his leaking cock along Taemin’s underwear rather passively, painting the fabric with white as he listens and hums along. As if on queue, his cockhead slips underneath the panties but is met with an obstruction blocking Taemin’s entrance. The object in question is hard, slippery, and most definitely a ...
Minho stops and leans back to look in between Taemin’s spread legs. Oh.
Well, it isn't much of a surprise. He’d expect that Taemin, being the little minx that he is, would have such tricks up his sleeve. “What's this Taeminnie, you plugged yourself this entire time?” he sounds more enthralled than inquisitive, pulling the pink jewelled plug out slowly and watching as Taemin’s puffy hole frantically gapes and squeezes around nothing, “Kept your hole stretched open in hopes for something bigger?”
Taemin whines at the emptiness, “Yes, I've been waiting for this hyung, thought of you as I fingered myself open, imagined it was you fucking me and it felt so good, like heaven-fuck."
Minho loves it, loves hearing Taemin confess dirty things like that. It does things to him, causes a tremor to run down his back and his cock to leak profusely on the sheets, so he moves swiftly, reaching over to retrieve a nearly-empty bottle of lube from the bedside table. Taemin scrambles to pull down his panties, but Minho stops him,
“Leave them on. They look so sexy on you, wanna fuck you in them.” he says, and Taemin mewls.
After unceremoniously slathering some lube onto his cock, Minho makes sure to push Taemin’s panties to the side and rub the remainders on his rim as well. He inserts his index finger in, experimentally, and chuckles fondly at the way Taemin clenches around the digit immediately. Greedy boy, so desperate to take what’s his.
“Ready for me, baby?”
It shouldn’t be a question. Taemin is more than ready, seeing as how his tongue hangs out slightly as he wheezes, “Mhm … ‘m ready,”
So when Minho grips Taemin roughly by the hips and finally slides all the way in with one swift motion, Taemin's brain blanks out and he screams, high-pitched and loud for anyone to hear. He knows Minho is big, that’s the reality he’s faced with whenever he takes the older man in his mouth or his ass, but he'd be lying if he says he doesn't crave that mind-numbing burn Minho’s girth gives him every time. Nothing can ever beat that feeling of being split in half as Minho grinds himself into his entrance inch by agonizing inch, filling him up so good he can barely think.
It’s so wonderful, so electrifying, and so, so perfect.
“You’re taking it so well, Taem, sucking me right into that tight little ass like your life depends on it,” Minho voices through gritted teeth, bending Taemin’s legs at the knees for better access. Taemin just lays limp, allows himself be controlled and manhandled in whichever way Minho likes. It’s what Taemin wants, anyways.
Minho starts off torturously slow, pulling out until just the tip is stretching Taemin’s hole then pressing back inside, pushing until his hips remains flush against Taemin's ass. He does it again and again, seemingly testing the waters, occasionally bending over and suckling on Taemin’s earlobe in compensation for the pained look on the younger’s face. It hurts, yes, but Taemin doesn’t want Minho to worry about that. He feels so sloppy and wet, hears the sickening squelch from the lube loud in his ears as Minho enters him each time, and holy fuck he just needs more.
“More, please,” Taemin’s eyes shine with tears. He spasms from the stimulation inside him, chanting the word like a mantra, “More, more, more.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll give you more,” something in Minho snaps and suddenly he’s picking up his pace, driving his thrusts into Taemin’s heat with hard, furious snaps of his hips. Taemin gasps at the change of speed, trembling from the way Minho’s hefty cock reaches the furthest parts of him. He squeezes down on it, scratching at Minho’s forearms in efforts to leverage himself from the velocity of each stroke.
The pair establishes a rhythm together and soon, the room echoes with the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin, coupled with Minho’s grunts and Taemin’s moans. The bed underneath them creaks slightly in tune with their movements, but Minho shows no signs of slowing down. In fact it’s the exact opposite; his brows knit together in concentration, sweat running down his temples as he continues to slam into Taemin, rolling his hips expertly as Taemin's body turns boneless with pleasure below him.
“You - you sure love getting fucked like this, don’t you?” Minho rasps out between quick thrusts, locking his eyes with Taemin’s hazy, half-lidded ones, “Hard and rough, like a whore who’s only good for taking my cock,” His hand wanders up Taemin's chest, fondling a nipple briefly before sliding up to rest on his windpipe, applying just the right amount of pressure, “Say it.”
Everything feels too hot, too fast, and Taemin’s head swims in the best way possible. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to speak, let alone form coherent sentences, especially when his guts are getting rearranged like this. “Mhm, I … I love … I’m … yours, … your … w-whore,” he eventually sputters after a couple of whimpers, through the hand around his throat.
The effort seems to suffice for Minho. "Good boy," he whispers, petting Taemin's damp hair in a way that contradicts the ferocity of his strokes. “You're my pretty baby boy. I'll take care of you.”
When the morning comes, Taemin already knows what to expect - the aftermath of rough sex means that Minho would dedicate just about the entire day to caring for Taemin, being his ‘loyal servant’ (as Minho calls it) for however long it takes for Taemin to fully recover from that crazy endorphin rush. Then, there’s the ache, that infamous stinging pain that’ll reside in his lower back and force him to limp everywhere for a good while, the bruises and scratches that’d linger on both their bodies as a reminder of the night before.
But right now, Taemin is too preoccupied with the weight of Minho on top of him, his warm breath fanning over his face as he uses Taemin’s slender body as a vice to chase his high. There’s no need to think about the consequences of the next day, Taemin decides, because he knows that in the end, it’ll be worth it.
“Gonna come,” Minho’s rhythm begins to stutter, “Gonna fill you up ‘till you’re dripping with it.”
Taemin just nods uselessly, brain blissfully empty. Every relentless jab to his prostate brings him closer and closer to his orgasm. His throat is dry and scratchy, but he still tries his hardest to move his lips and say the first word that comes to his mind at the moment:
“Oppa, please,”
It comes out unfiltered, strange even to Taemin’s ears. Minho stops moving for a beat and stares down at Taemin with a strange expression - however, Taemin doesn't miss the way Minho’s cock practically jumps inside him, showing presumed interest at the word.
And then almost instantly, Minho loses control. He’s throwing Taemin’s leg over his shoulder and bucking his hips up like a wild animal, so much so that Taemin is bent in half and jostled up and down from the force of it. “God, that’s sending me right over the edge, baby,” Minho growls lowly, giving Taemin no time to breathe between thrusts, “You’re so fucking hot, I swear - keep calling me that, fuck.”
The new angle allows Minho to reach even deeper, making Taemin’s back arch off the bed and cry out as Minho hits all the right spots. The tension inside him grows, coiling into a tight knot in his stomach and groin. “Oppa, g-give me, give me all of it … please,” he trails off, the remainders of his sentence getting lost in a litany of broken sobs.
“Taemin-ah, … Taemin-ah, … Taemin-ah,”
Minho curses loudly when he bottoms out, burying himself completely in Taemin’s wet heat one last time. His hand curls around Taemin, holding him tightly and shuddering as he shoves his face in the croon of his neck, then Taemin feels it - thick spurts of hot cum shooting inside him. The sensation has Taemin’s eyes rolling back in his head, the world around him going quiet for a second, and before he realizes it he reaches his peak as well. Having held out his orgasm for so long Taemin’s entire body shakes from the intensity of it, clenching down uncontrollably on Minho as he spills all over himself, soiling his pretty panties even more.
He’s lightheaded and sensitive, so sensitive, but Minho fucks him through it, ensuring that every last drop has been milked before he pulls out gently. Taemin winces as his legs are slowly brought back down on the bed, still quivering as the remnants of his high racks through his body, exhaustion hitting him like a bulldozer.
Taemin feels used, drained, but in the best way possible.
With his heart beating quickly in his chest and his breathing erratic, Minho lays beside him and holds him close. Taemin always needs some time to calm down and collect himself after sessions like these, so they remain like that for a couple of minutes, relishing in the warmth of each other’s presence in total silence.
“Messy,” Minho mutters after a while, once Taemin’s twitching and heavy panting has subsided. He rubs soft circles on the exposed skin just above Taemin’s hip bones as he teases, “You've made a mess all over your clothes. Naughty maid.”
“Yeah, ‘m naughty,” Taemin says quietly, rolling over to face Minho. By now that spacey feeling in his head has started to clear up a bit as he dwindles back down to earth, and all that’s in focus right now is the man in front of him. He is safe, full, happy.
Minho kisses a spot on his nose, “It's okay, I’ll buy some more for you. As much as you want.”
“Mm ... I like them. They’re pretty.”
Another wave of silence. "You called me oppa," Minho says suddenly, lips curving up at the memory. Taemin instantly reddens, glassy eyes quaking, attempting to hide his face with his bangs and Minho laughs because bashful Taemin is so damn adorable.
"It s-slipped ..." Taemin hiccups, "It just came out …”
"Don't worry, I really liked it," Minho says, stroking his back with assurance. That is something they'd need to discuss later on, but not right now. “How are you feeling? do you hurt anywhere?”
There's a thin layer of worry behind the question, but Taemin just shakes his head and hooks his leg around Minho’s waist, cum trickling out through the sides of his panties at the movement. “I’m fine,” he yawns, “Just tired, wanna nap.”
It sounds convincing but Minho still watches Taemin carefully, running his gaze over the drying mess on his face, along with the red and yellow blotches that are visible all over his body. He smiles as he takes in his handiwork - so beautifully ruined and bruised.
“Well, we can do that after we clean up, Taemin-ah.”
Taemin makes a little noise of protest. His maid top now sits askew on his torso and the skirt is knocked out of place; both pieces feel sticky and sweaty but he still doesn’t want to get up. “Carry me, I don’t want to walk,” he whines, sounding much more like his usual self, “And I want honey butter chips later on, maybe some spaghetti as well. You remembered to buy some more chips, right hyung?”
“I wouldn't forget something like that,” Minho replies, sweeping Taemin off the bed with too much ease.
Taemin shuffles, getting comfortable in Minho's arms, “By the way, if we’re going for round two in the shower … I want it slow.”
“How did you read my mind?”
“Oh please, it’s you we're talking about here. I still can’t understand how your stamina works,” Taemin nuzzles his face into Minho’s bare chest, exhaling contently as he’s carried bridal-style into the bathroom.
"... But thank you for taking care of me, I love you." he adds on, voice low and muffled. Taemin doesn't know why, but he always feels so vulnerable pressed against Minho's body like this, hearing the soft patter of his heartbeat after sex. It makes him strangely emotional, like he could burst out crying at any moment.
"I love you too," Another kiss on the top of his head from Minho, "And thank you for trusting me, my beloved Taeminnie."
More than anything, Taemin loves being taken apart - because Minho would be there to piece him back together.