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Mingyu sets his phone down on his chest when his eyes start to burn from staring at the screen for too long. He rubs rather harshly at his eyelids, blurring his vision and creating a swirl of shadows on the hotel ceiling.
Next to him lies Wonwoo, on his side with his back facing Mingyu. There’s a glow being emitted from his direction, phone screen shining brightly while muffled audio continues to play. He’s turned off the small lamp next to his side of the bed, but is yet to fall asleep, his shoulder jostling slightly as he plays whatever mobile game has become his latest pastime.
So Mingyu reaches over and turns off his bedside light too, bathing the room in a mellow light from the dim over-head bulbs.
It’s perfect really, the tranquility of the room, Wonwoo laying next to him and breathing softly. They’re both freshly showered and smelling the same, hearts and bellies full after winning a Daesang at the Golden Disc Awards, and feasting on post-show dinner.
He has no complaints about today, none at all. It only makes sense to close his eyes and sleep, allow his limbs and mind to have a moment to reset in the chaos it is to be an idol. But when he tries, restlessness prickles at him, forcing his eyes open.
There’s a sort of heat simmering inside of him, an itch under his skin that he can’t seem to quite scratch. Mingyu knows exactly what it is of course, he’s not so dense at this age—maybe in his teens when his hormones were raging, but not anymore.
It was desire, arousal, or to put it more simply…Mingyu was horny.
Nothing out of the ordinary, just another day in the life of Kim Mingyu, whose libido was just as much the achiever he was. Sometimes the urge comes hard and fast, a flood of warmth that can only be tamed by crashing him and Wonwoo into the nearest surface, frantic in every one of his movements until they’re both boneless.
Other times it’s like now, a slow trickling of heat pooling in his stomach. It’s like molten, falling drop by drop, burning into Mingyu’s skin and making it hard to focus on anything else except for the way it stings.
There was a point where Mingyu thought about rubbing one out in the shower, but then he’d knocked his skull against the shower head and it momentarily killed any spark left in him. Although, now he’s starting to wish he’d done a little more to overcome that mental obstacle.
Mingyu should go to sleep. He really should.
But today was so good. Why not make it better?
The springs of the mattress creak as Mingyu shifts his weight along the bed, sliding closer to the familiar body on the other side. He comes up right against Wonwoo, their back and chest flush as he throws an arm over his waist. Wonwoo adjusts himself under the sudden proximity, but doesn’t say anything, his thumb occupied with his game.
Mingyu presses his face against the middle of Wonwoo’s back, the soft cotton of his shirt tickling his nose. It smells of the fabric softener they use, carrying the faint scent of home wherever they go. Mingyu inhales it, fanning out a warm breath after. Under the collar of Wonwoo’s shirt, the mole on the back of his neck peeks out, and Mingyu presses his lips to it.
“What is it?” Wonwoo says then, voice thick from being out of use, yet still soft.
“Nothing,” Mingyu mutters against his skin, “keep playing your game.”
So Wonwoo does. He continues tapping away at his mobile while Mingyu drags his lips over his nape, pressing chaste kisses which eventually turn into suckles, teeth grazing and tongue soothing right after. Wonwoo still doesn’t say anything, only his breathing has grown a little faster, his back rising against Mingyu’s chest.
It’s only when Mingyu’s hand crawls inside his shirt that he opens his mouth. “What is it, Min-ah?”
“Nothing,” Mingyu says once more.
But it’s not nothing. Not with the way Mingyu’s warm palm was sliding over the expanse of smooth skin, splaying out in the space between Wonwoo’s chest and abdomen. And Wonwoo knows it’s not nothing too. They’ve been together for so long that every fleeting glance, every scant touch, says a thousand words.
Wonwoo knows.
He turns his head slightly, trying to get Mingyu in his line of sight, a question trailing off. “Do you want to…?”
Mingyu’s not exactly sure what he wants. All he knows is that he wants to touch and settle the ache inside him. In any way, really.
“I just want to stay like this,” his hushed voice says. “Not gonna bother you.”
Wonwoo looks at him through a sideways glance for a beat longer before relenting, turning back to his phone and letting the younger man be. He doesn’t say another word as Mingyu shuffles that much closer to him, completely closing the space between their lower halves.
Mingyu continues to touch him, with his hands and his lips, knees locking into place behind the backs of Wonwoo’s and slotting his feet between his cold ones. Wonwoo never complains because he always runs a little colder, Mingyu was his own life-size heat pack and Mingyu—well, he just really loves touching Wonwoo.
That’s why he’s unable to stay still, fingertips stroking soft skin under his shirt, lips returning to litter the back of his neck with kisses. At some point, the press of his tongue grows hotter, the weight of his hands becoming firmer.
The heat in his gut begins to bubble.
Kisses turn more insistent, more intentional, aiming to leave a trail of red blooming on pale skin. His hands crawl out of Wonwoo’s shirt, following the curves of his slim legs below his shorts, allowing Mingyu to relish in the bare flesh.
Then it’s his hips. Mingyu’s hips shift forward and a spark ignites at the base of his spine. The brief pressure against his clothed crotch has him rocking forward once more. When Wonwoo’s ass presses against him this time, a jolt shoots through him.
Mingyu bites his lip, the grip on Wonwoo’s thighs subconsciously tightening as he moves again. It feels good. A little too good. The marginal friction against his shaft wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to grow heavy between his legs. He was hardening quickly, the supple skin under his mouth and hands only acting as a catalyst to the process.
The material of his shorts is supposed to be soft, but against his cock—where he was so sensitive—it feels rough. Brushing over him just right and enticing the tip to become wet. He feels the fabric dampen as he grinds against Wonwoo’s ass, nestling himself between the dip.
Mingyu ruts into him, a circular motion of his pelvis that has his mouth falling open against Wonwoo’s neck—a silent moan that comes as hot air from the way it hits all the right nerves.
“Mingyu-yah,” Wonwoo’s hand travels to rest on the back of his, the audio of his game coming to a sudden silence. “What are you doing?”
“Dunno,” he swallows with an audible click. “Feels good. Can I?”
Wonwoo’s hair tickles his nose from his little nod. “I can give you a hand-“
Mingyu puts a stop to both Wonwoo’s departing hand and his offer. “I like this too, it’s—ah…” his moan is airy, “it’s nice like this too.”
“Are you sure?” Wonwoo asks, pensive, his hand held in Mingyu’s grip to keep it from going anywhere.
With his face buried in the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, Mingyu hums, the light vibration of it reaching the former due to their proximity. Mingyu licks his lips, another drop of precome wetting him. “Let me just…”
He proceeds to push one of Wonwoo’s knees down on the bed, exposing more area for him to grind against. Mingyu rolls his hips, throwing a leg over Wonwoo’s for leverage.
“Mmh.”
The change in angle is good. It’s better. The sensitive head of his cock gets caught on his shorts, the patch of fabric cold and wet. He’s rock solid now, sliding himself against the swell of Wonwoo’s ass, a pleasant tingle breaking out all over his skin.
Mingyu clenches his teeth. “Shit.”
“Does it really feel good?” Wonwoo asks almost cautiously, hands curling up into small fists as Mingyu holds them on his thigh.
Mingyu lets out a quiet moan before verbalising a response. “It’s you,” he presses his cock forward, “it always feels good when it’s you, hyung.”
Wonwoo makes a sound at the back of his throat, faint and strangled, as if shy from the being on the receiving end of such words.
That only makes Mingyu want to shower him with more praise. “You’re amazing, Wonwoo hyung. You don’t even have to try, but you turn me on so fucking bad,” he says. “Love you, hyung. Love you,” Mingyu repeats, mouthing at Wonwoo’s neck.
“Min…” Wonwoo juts himself backwards and begins a slow rock of his hips.
“Fuck…uh-huh, just like that,” Mingyu swallows, the pressure different now that Wonwoo has started to moving in time with him.
There’s a part of him that wants to see Wonwoo’s face right now, see whether it’s a little flushed and dazed, or whether he’s biting his lips to hold back any sounds of his own. But fuck—Mingyu is losing his mind, the friction against him so tantalisingly good, he can’t help but chase more.
Mingyu picks up a quicker pace, jerking his hips forward as if he was fucking into Wonwoo for real. He lifts his knee off the bed, planting a foot on the mattress to cage in Wonwoo’s lower half. Each groan that falls past his lips is more strained than the last, his resolve quickly disappearing.
He abandons Wonwoo’s hand to hold his hip tightly, pistoning his himself forward. “Oh god, fuck,” he grunts, hips adopting a frantic speed. A familiar sensation pools in his gut, filling up until Mingyu is aching for release.
With a whine Mingyu ruts into Wonwoo. He’s humping him like a rabid dog, something animalistic in his harsh, desperate movements. He feels it. He’s so close, his core tightening up, preparing for the sprint to the finish line.
But then it’s not enough, even the ferocity in his actions aren’t enough to pull him over the edge. In a haste, Mingyu rolls flat on his back, head spinning at the speed. He manages to pull his shorts down to his thighs before wrapping a hand around his throbbing length, letting out a loud moan at the relief.
Then he’s just as feral as earlier, tugging his cock with a roughness rooted in frustration. He jerks himself off, everything drawing tight for a stilling moment—and then he bursts, hot ropes of white shooting out of him and painting his hand.
Mingyu is left panting, eyes falling shut as he recovers from the intensity of his climax. Every ounce of energy that was once in him drains out, reducing him to a jelly-like puddle on the bed, holding onto his limp cock pathetically.
His body temperature has skyrocketed, a wet, sticky sheen on his skin from the sweat he’s broken out into and his hand too, sticky for another reason entirely. With the hand that is clean, Mingyu puts it over his face, fingers on his temples as if trying to settle his racing thoughts.
“Wow, hyung that was…yeah.”
It wasn’t often that Mingyu ran out of things to say. He only ever found himself speechless with Wonwoo.
Mingyu lifts himself off the bed, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air as he tries to not spill any fluids onto the hotel sheets. “I’ll go clean up—“
The words dissolve on his tongue as Wonwoo flips onto his back, flinging the blanket aside to reveal his raging hard on, straining against his shorts.
There’s a lump in Mingyu’s throat.
“Mingyu-yah.”
Wonwoo lifts his shirt up, holding it in between his teeth while he frees his cock, red and pulsing in his hand. The fabric from his mouth falls as he runs his thumb over the glistening slit, a shudder wracking through his body.
“Aren’t you going to help me?”
Mingyu’s mouth waters, blood rushing south all over again.
He wraps his come-slick hand around Wonwoo’s length, causing the man’s hips to immediately jerk up with a grunt.
Oh, Mingyu would be happy to help.