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“I’m just saying, we live in Korea! Korean food is better here than anything Western.”
“And I don’t care. Sometimes I want a crab salad. Can you shut up about this already?” Kibum says as he keys in the code to his door.
Minho has been annoying him all night.
Honestly, that’s nothing new. None of this is new. He’s barely bothered by it – it’s their daily life. He just wishes Minho would shut up about where they went out for dinner. He’s acting like he didn’t inhale the appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert they ordered to share. It was way too much food for Kibum; thankfully Minho’s got a bottomless pit of a stomach. They work well, like that.
Except for when they ordered a peach bread pudding with caramel sauce, cream topping, and berries scattered through the caramel. He devoured that so fast Kibum could barely have any. He was ready to throttle him for that. And Minho, the manchild he is, had this obnoxious grin the whole time, knowing he was pissing Kibum off. He hates him. Or he loves him. He isn’t sure, right now.
“Besides, don’t even act like you didn’t like it,” They step inside his house, and Comme Des and Garçons come running. He leans down to pet them. “Hi babies, did you miss me?” He coos, temporarily ignoring Minho in favor of loving on his kids.
“Whether I liked it or not doesn’t matter! It’s the principle of the thing,” Minho huffs. “Sometimes, I want Korean food. Half the time when we go out, you bat your eyes and pout and get your way for all these trendy places with foreign food, and you do the same at home when you cook!”
Kibum glares up at him from the floor, where he’s giving Garçons belly rubs. “Oh, so you’re ungrateful, now? See if I ever cook for you again.”
Minho groans. “That’s not what I’m saying. You know that’s not what I’m saying. I love it when you cook for me. I’m just saying,” He throws his arms up, dramatic bitch, “you know my favorite isn’t Western food! Why does everything always have to be your way?”
“Because I want it to be, and I know you’ll fold.” Kibum shrugs. Comme Des crawls into his lap and licks at his chin while Garçons rolls back over and starts pawing at Minho, wanting his other dad’s attention. The traitor. Can’t he tell that Kibum is annoyed with him right now?
Truth be told, he wants this silly argument to be over already. Despite Minho being obnoxious, Kibum has been horny since before Minho even showed up at his door. He’s shocked Minho didn’t notice him looking at him like a piece of meat all night, or that he was shifting uncomfortably all through dinner. He’s had a plug in his ass this whole time, and it’s making this whole conversation extremely awkward when he moves and feels it pressing inside him.
They were so busy with the release of their new group single and SHINee World Concert VII that they’ve hardly had time to spend together. After a schedule, they either go to their own homes, overwhelmed from their busy days and needing space, or they just order dinner then crash in bed together, no funny business. Hell, he can count the number of hand jobs they’ve given each other in the past month on one hand. Nevermind the last time he’s had his dick sucked or vice versa, or had anything in his ass.
He’s going to change that tonight. At least, he will if Minho shuts the fuck up and stops whining.
Kibum stands up, sheds his jacket, and walks further into the house, going straight for the kitchen to grab some dog food and feed Comme Des and Garçons. He’s a responsible dog dad, no matter how badly he wants to get railed. He’ll feed them, take them out, and pray Minho’s done being a big baby by the time they’re done.
“Kibummie, that’s no way to handle a relationship.” He whines. He’s acting like this hasn’t been how their relationship has operated their whole lives, regardless of their status update. They both agreed nothing would change; they’re SHINee members first, best friends second, boyfriends third. The way they were as the first two was exactly this: they argue about what to do, and Minho eventually gives Kibum what he wants. They both know Minho loves making Kibum happy, Kibum loves getting what he wants, and that it’s also the way to make Minho happy. They’re basically perfect, in that way.
Except for right now, when Minho is changing up the status quo, acting like the way their relationship works, has always worked, is unfair somehow. He’s acting like Kibum never does anything for him. He does! He rubs Minho’s shoulders when he complains about being sore from his new, higher intensity Hyrox and triathlon training, he laughs at his dumb jokes (okay, he’d do that anyway. Sue him, Minho makes him laugh whether he’s trying or not), and he’s tried to make more of an effort in monitoring his solo activities. He’s so busy and he’s never been great at it, Minho knows and used to feel hurt by that, but he has tried. He spends time he barely has with him, he increased his clinginess after they got back from the military like Minho’d said he wanted, and even then some since getting together. Hell, they got caught cuddling at the airport in LA! SM wasn’t too happy about that.
The point being, he does things for him! He loves Minho, he really does. He loves him more than he’s loved anyone, he knows they’re it for each other, soulmates or whatever cringe thing he said on MBC that one time. Minho adapted to reading between his lines and seeing through his cryptic behaviors. It just feels like, sometimes, it isn’t enough. Now it turned into an argument over something as small and petty as where they went to dinner.
He’s pouring kibble into the dog’s bowls when he replies, “We’ve always been like this. Why do things need to change?”
Minho gets down on the floor with him, pets Comme Des where he’s attacking his food. “I love things the way they are, you know I do. But sometimes, I want you to consider what I want.”
Kibum feels a stab right in his chest at that, and grits his teeth. He knows Minho is amazing, and deserves to be loved in every way possible. But are all his efforts to make Minho happy going unnoticed? Minho doesn’t want to change anything about him, he’s said so before. Kibum wouldn’t change a hair on Minho’s tiny, obnoxious head. He knows Minho is happy with him, this is just a silly argument, but Minho wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t something actually bothering him.
He sighs, and refuses to look at Minho. He doesn’t want him to see that he’s a little hurt by that. They worked on communicating better years ago, then stopped really needing to at some point when they could just accept each other for their differences and read each other like a children’s book. It’s hard, now that their relationship has shifted. They need to talk through things now. He didn’t realize, when he started dating Minho, that their near-psychic abilities wouldn’t be sufficient anymore.
It’s easy to nag at your best friend for something. It’s harder to tell your partner what you need, and hope they'll be completely receptive. No snarky backtalk that results in a miniscule change. He actually has to put in more effort to make Minho feel heard now. Minho means the world to him. They owe each other this much.
“I do consider what you want.” He mutters, watching the pups chew away. They’re almost done, it’s almost time to take them outside. He just wants to get this conversation over with. “You don’t notice that?”
Minho gently holds Kibum by his chin, tilts it toward him. Minho’s eyes are so big and pretty and doe-like. Looking at them feels like coming home, like warmth and safety and understanding. He feels some of the tension leak out of his shoulders. He didn’t realize he’d gotten so strung up over this.
“Of course I notice. I love everything you do for me. But like you said, we’ve always been like this.” He sighs, moves his thumb to stroke over Kibum’s cheek. Kibum leans into the touch, despite the fact that he’s still a little hurt and annoyed. “I love giving you what you want, I love seeing you happy. But sometimes, a compromise would be nice.”
Kibum knows that’s fair. He knows he gets his way all the time, and that Minho is right, when he puts it like that. He just hates admitting that he was wrong, or that maybe he hasn’t been a perfect partner. He shouldn’t expect that of himself – he never has been to any of his boyfriends in the past. He just thought being with Minho might fix that. His biggest issue historically has been that everyone else wasn’t Minho, and he tried to fill an empty box with people not suited for it.
He groans, tilting his head back and away from Minho’s hand to stare at the ceiling. He hates losing arguments. “Okay.” He says, hoping that can be the end of it and they can kiss and make up and then have some great make-up sex.
“Okay, what?” Minho hedges, and he can hear the smug smile in his voice. Bastard.
“Okay, I’ll work on compromising.” He groans, looking back down at Minho with a pout.
Minho’s smile is so bright, Kibum feels his heart skip a beat. He loves him so much. He’ll compromise, if it makes him happy. Their old dynamic was for best friends, anyway. He’s wanted more for too long to really be upset at the loss of some of the ways they used to operate.
“Thank you, Kibummie.” He leans forward for a chaste kiss that leaves Kibum chasing his lips, desperate for more.
He’s reminded that he can’t act on anything right now when he hears paws against the hardwood, and yips by the glass doors to the patio.
He needs to start remembering to leave them with a sitter on date nights.
Kibum stands up, feeling the ever-present twinge in his back from years of intense performances. He wonders if scheduling some kind of cringey couple’s massage would benefit him and Minho. They’re both sore as hell lately, and it would appease some of Minho's romantic side. Look at Kibum, already making a compromise. He’s so good at this boyfriend thing.
He lets the dogs out and steps out onto the patio, leaning against the railing to watch them run and sniff around. Minho follows him out and plasters himself to Kibum’s back, putting his hands on the railing to cage him in. Kibum shivers. It has little to do with the crisp end-of-spring air.
Minho drops soft kisses along the nape of his neck, moves over to the side, then hooks his chin over Kibum’s shoulder to watch Comme Des and Garçons, too. Kibum feels so content. He loves this precious little family that he’s built over the years, and their new addition. He loves his life, his relationship with Minho, Minho himself. He’s worth a little emotional discomfort, sometimes.
“I love you, Kibummie.” Minho says, like he was reading Kibum’s mind. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Kibum’s cheek. He feels his ears getting hot with a blush, and he’s trying to fight a smile. He would barely consider this an argument, in hindsight. It was just a catalyst for a conversation that needed to happen. But maybe arguments aren’t so bad every now and again, if he gets this soft comfort afterward.
Kibum leans back against Minho’s chest, lets his warmth envelope him and soothe the aches in his back like a heating pad. Minho is always so warm. “Mm, yeah. Me, too.”
He feels Minho’s cheeks shift and puff up in a smile against his neck, where he settles back down against his shoulder. The sweet, tender moment is a little broken by Minho gently pushing his hips against Kibum’s ass, but he doesn’t mind that in the least. He gasps quietly, pushing back against Minho and tilting his neck to give Minho room to kiss along it. He takes advantage of the access, trailing kisses along the exposed column of Kibum’s throat. It feels so good, Kibum feels like he’s melting. It really has been too long.
Minho moves his hands from the rail to Kibum’s waist, squeezing around the dip of it and pressing his hips more firmly against Kibum. Kibum feels the plug shift inside him, and he muffles a whine. Minho has no idea, he doesn’t want to give the surprise away. He also doesn’t want to feed Minho’s overinflated ego.
“I’m taking you the second we get back inside.” Minho whispers against his ear, then gently teases the lobe with his teeth. Kibum can’t muffle his soft moan at that. He wants it so bad. He can feel Minho getting hard against his ass, feels his own cock twitch at his dirty, perfect mouth. God, he really knows how to rile Kibum up.
“You can’t,” He manages to get out, despite the fog quickly taking over his brain. “Gotta finish taking care of the kids.”
Minho laughs, too loud right in Kibum’s ear, and he winces. He hates it when he does that. “That’s a mood killer.”
“Good, you needed to calm down.” Kibum says, even though he doesn’t mean a word of it. He’s a hypocrite, because he’s just as worked up right now. He wants Minho to grab him and manhandle him when they get inside, and he wants Minho to want that too. But he’s a T, and the logical side of his brain will always win out.
They eventually separate, finish taking care of the dogs, and walk back inside. He settles them into bed, then goes to wash his hands. Minho’s with him, helping him with the kids, the whole time. Minho really is such a good second dad. Kibum doesn’t think he’s taken him for granted in a very long time, but after everything, he’s reminded of how much he appreciates how considerate Minho is. He really does do so much for Kibum.
The second they’re all done, Minho crowds him against the fridge. Kibum feels the cool metal against his back, even through his clothes. He bites his lip. Something about the chill behind him and the overwhelming heat of Minho in front of him is making his senses go haywire. He needs Minho to touch him now.
Minho’s too patient for his liking, too content to draw this out. That is unacceptable, as far as Kibum is concerned. He takes matters into his own hands and wraps his arms around Minho’s shoulders, threading his hands into his hair and tugging until he’s attacking his lips. They’re so plush beneath his own. Pillow-soft, plump, perfect. He can’t help himself, he bites Minho’s bottom lip and practically forces his tongue inside.
Minho moans, gripping at Kibum’s hips and pulling them forward, flush together. Kibum feels breathless as he licks into Minho’s mouth and against his tongue and along his teeth, anywhere he can reach. Minho tastes like caramel and peaches from the dessert he hoarded at dinner.
Kibum pulls away, scowling at him. “I didn’t think the way I’d finally get to taste our dessert is from your mouth. You really had to hog the whole thing?”
Minho laughs, and goes in for another kiss, which Kibum turns away from. He tastes amazing, and Kibum really should let it go – he’s desperate enough at this point and just wants to get railed, but bickering has always been their foreplay.
Minho kisses his cheek, down his jaw, against his collar bones. “You’re the one who ordered peaches! What did you expect?” He snickers.
“Oh, fuck you.” Kibum says, then gasps as Minho gets his hands on Kibum’s ass and squeezes. He draws his hand back and places a firm smack against it. Kibum groans, tilting his head back until it thuds against the fridge. “Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me right now.”
Minho hums, biting at the junction of Kibum’s shoulder and neck. “Whatever you want, Bummie.”
Minho lifts Kibum into his arms, and Kibum hooks his legs around his waist. Finally, finally finally. Kibum ruts against Minho’s abdomen. Even through layers of clothes, the firm ridges of his abs feel amazing against his cock.
Minho starts to step away from where he’s got Kibum trapped, probably intending to take him to the bedroom, but Kibum stops him. “No, here. I’m not waiting anymore.”
Minho tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Don’t we need lube?”
Kibum feels his cheeks burning, but pushes past it. “I’m already ready for you. Now hurry up and fuck me, Choi Minho!”
Minho’s eyes are blown wide, and he curses under his breath. He pushes Kibum’s back against the fridge to help support his weight while one of his hands moves from Kibum’s ass to the front of his pants. Kibum tightens his legs against Minho’s hips, trying to help shimmy his pants down enough for Minho to have access. It’s awkward and a little tricky, but they manage somehow. Minho’s free hand goes to undo his own pants, tugging them down just enough to free his cock while Kibum gets busy kissing wherever he can reach – his lips, his jaw, his cheeks. He has no idea how Minho’s skin is so soft, despite his garbage skincare routine. If you could even call it a routine.
Kibum bites Minho’s lip, gets back to kissing the hell out of him. He hasn’t forgotten about the plug in his ass, per se — kinda hard when it shifts inside him with every movement, and the pressure and stretch are ever present. But he’s a bit distracted when Minho tries to guide his cock inside. Minho makes a confused noise into Kibum’s mouth, and pulls away.
Kibum chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling a little embarrassed. Yeah, he probably should have remembered to say something to him. As it stands, Minho’s cock is nestled between his cheeks, but blocked from access to where they both need him right now. It was hot and convenient to have it, in theory, when he was horny and craving something inside him several hours ago. It’s annoying now that it’s keeping that glorious cock from getting inside him.
“What’s that?” He asks, tilting his head. Oh, no way. He’s not going to have to explain butt plugs to his thirty-three year old fucking boyfriend, is he?
He forgot that before they got together, Minho was pretty vanilla. Still is, since they haven’t had a lot of time to explore. Regardless, he's the best Kibum has ever slept with, but innocent to a lot of kinks and toys.
“I said I was already ready for you.” He mutters.
“But you’re not? There’s something in the way.”
Kibum groans, then locks eyes with Minho. He looks so puzzled, it would be cute if Kibum didn’t need his dick in his ass like, forever ago. “It’s a butt plug, Jesus Christ, Minho, don’t you know anything?”
Minho still looks a little confused, but pulls his hips away enough for his cock to not be sliding against Kibum anymore. He’s about ready to kill him when one of his hands moves between his cheeks and tugs at the base of the plug. Kibum gasps, and tightens his thighs around Minho. Fuck, the way it’s tugging against his rim feels so good.
He thinks Minho’s about to pull it out, toss it aside, and get his cock in him, but instead, he tugs on it some more, then slowly pushes it back in, circles it around. Kibum keeps making these embarrassing noises that he wants to hold back so Minho will stop teasing him and get on with fucking him, but he can’t help it. It feels so good, and it’s been way too long since Minho’s touched him this much.
Minho hums, and keeps messing with the toy. “I like this.” He says, too nonchalant for someone whose dick is leaking precum against the back of his thigh.
“I’d like it if you’d get it out and fuck me already.” Kibum hisses, but he’s grinding his hips down against the toy, regardless.
Minho presses Kibum against the fridge while he keeps playing with the toy. He goes back to Kibum’s neck, scrapes his teeth against his Adam’s apple. “You put all this effort into surprising me, and you want me to hurry up?” He feels Minho smile against his neck. Fuck him. “I don’t think so. I’m going to enjoy this.”
Minho pulls the plug halfway out, then slowly pushes it back in, tilting it at different angles every time he repeats the motion. Kibum gasps when Minho finds his prostate, and grinds down against it. It’s not the cock he’s aching for, but it still feels so good he’s going insane.
“Minho-” He’s not going to beg. He’s not. He refuses.
Minho kisses up to his ear, licks at the sensitive spot at the hinge of his jaw. “What do you need?”
Kibum whines when Minho pulls the toy out and thrusts it back in, hard and fast, right against his prostate. It’s a mockery of what Kibum needs his cock to be doing right now.
“I need you to fuck me. You know that!”
“I don’t think you need it bad enough yet.” Minho whispers, and keeps going, slowly pulling the plug out before thrusting it back in like he’s on a mission to make Kibum cum on this fucking toy instead of with a big dick in his ass. Kibum will kill him, he swears, if that happens. He’ll smother him with a pillow in his sleep and then bury his body in his backyard.
Kibum feels a tightening in his abdomen, feels his cock leaking, begging to be touched, and he sympathizes with it. He wants to shed some tears right now, too, from how desperate is.
Minho grinds the toy against that bundle of nerves, relentless and mean, and Kibum gasps and thrashes and yanks at Minho’s hair. “Minho, don’t- I’m-”
“You’re what?” Minho asks, panting. He clearly needs this as badly as Kibum does. How does he have so much self-restraint? Dammit.
“I don’t wanna come from that,” he breaks, whining and angry at himself for it. “I need your stupid fucking cock right now. Please, fuck Minho, I need it.” He’s a blabbering mess, he knows it and hates it but right now there’s nothing he cares about more than getting fucked by his dumbass of a boyfriend.
Minho moans, long and low, and finally yanks the toy out of Kibum’s ass. Kibum gasps, clenching around nothing. He’s shifting his hips, trying to guide Minho’s cock into his ass his damn self, but Minho grips him tight enough to bruise, halting all movement. Kibum whines. “What now?!”
“I still think we should have more lube,” Minho says. Kibum knows he’s right, he even planned for this, but fuck he hates how responsible he’s being right now.
“In my pocket, hurry up!” He hisses.
Minho’s frenzied when he reaches into the front pocket of the pants shuffled down Kibum’s thighs. He finds the small packet quickly enough, but any delay feels like too much for Kibum right now. He’s panting and wiggling against Minho, impatient and needy and restless.
“Hold on, just a second.” Minho tries to soothe him, even as his face morphs into one of pleasure as he strokes the lube along his cock. Fuck, he’s so hot. Kibum needs him so bad.
Finally, Minho presses the blunt head of his cock against Kibum’s rim. Even that feels overwhelming to Kibum, the pressure too-much and too-good against his sensitive skin. He mewls, tries to grind down on it, trying to get him to push in already. “What are you waiting for?”
Minho crowds Kibum impossible tighter against the fridge. The metal feels too cold on his overheated body. He shivers, digging his nails into Minho’s neck where he’s still got him in a death grip at the nape. He feels his aching, sensitive cock trapped between their shirts, and wishes they’d had the foresight to strip them off. Then, about damn time, Minho pushes inside.
Kibum moans, his head falling forward until his forehead is pressed against Minho’s. Kibum’s eyes are closed, his jaw is slack, he can feel every ridge and vein of the thick cock stretching him out, and it’s driving him insane.
“Fuck,” Minho curses, once his hips are flush against Kibum and his dick is so deep Kibum feels like he’s going to suffocate. Is he breathing? He isn’t sure if he’s breathing. “You’re so tight. I missed this so,” he rolls his hips, slowly, and they both moan, “damn much.”
Kibum nods vigorously, and presses his lips against Minho’s in multiple quick, frenzied kisses. “Yeah, okay, fine,” he pants against his lips. “Just fuck me already. I need it.” He feels Minho’s cock twitch inside him at the admission, and Kibum whines.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to beg any more, because his dumb, sexy, amazing boyfriend pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back inside. He’s starting slow, building up a rhythm and giving them both time to adjust. It’s great, in theory – Kibum is so strung up he’d probably come embarrassingly fast if Minho just went for it.
Kibum, however, is not in a patient mood. He never really is, when Minho’s dick is involved. No one could blame him – he’s literally the sexiest man in South Korea, with a perfect cock he definitely knows how to use. Kibum is so lucky.
“Minho,” Kibum whines, writhing in his arms. He bites at Minho’s lips, not gently at all, and pulls at his hair. “More.”
Minho moans, and starts moving faster. These smooth, steady rolls of his hips that Kibum has definitely seen him do on stage before. He’s wringing these desperate, high sounds out of Kibum with every thrust, and he can’t even stop himself, he’s that far gone. It feels that good. His brain is melting. The stretch is perfect, Minho’s cock is so deep, he’s got a bruising grasp on Kibum’s ass. He’s everywhere and-
“Oh my God,” he gasps in English when Minho finally hits his prostate. He feels his brow scrunch up where it’s pressed to Minho’s forehead, and his mouth is hanging open. He’s panting, and Minho really gets into it then. Just as smooth, just as controlled, but harder with every targeted strike at that sweet bundle of nerves inside him that causes zaps of pleasure to sing through his whole body every time Minho presses against it.
Minho leans forward, catches Kibum’s lower lip in his mouth and tries to kiss him. Kibum should probably respond, should close his damn mouth and get more involved, but it just feels so damn good, letting Minho do all the work while he just lets his body become a dead weight to be used and fucked as Minho sees fit. The fact that he’s strong enough to do it, to support all of Kibum’s weight with just the hands groping his ass, Kibum’s legs locked around him, and the fridge behind Kibum’s back, is a turn-on in and of itself. Kibum might bitch about all that extra gym time, but he can’t really care when it gets results like this. When it makes it so Minho has the grace from years of dance and the strength from being a workout-aholic to give it to him with both the perfect rhythm and strength to fuck him up so good he goes brainless.
Minho presses a finger against where he’s stretching Kibum impossibly wide – not pushing in, just teasing at the sensitive skin from the outside. Kibum whines, starts bouncing a little with what little leverage he has. Minho is fucking him so good, but it’s not enough.
“Minho,” he gasps, and opens his eyes to look at his handsome face. Minho’s eyes are locked on him, wide and awestruck and so close. He’s looking at Kibum like he can’t believe he’s real, and Kibum feels his pulse quicken, his heart thudding like it wants to escape his chest. He pulls him in and kisses him, wet and desperate and craving.
Minho moans into his mouth, his hips speeding up and losing some of their rhythm. He feels Minho’s cock twitching inside him, he feels himself clenching around Minho in response. It’s so hot, it feels so good, Kibum is so sensitive and ready to come and have Minho come inside him. He needs it, he wants to feel it.
“Touch yourself for me,” Minho pants against his mouth, and Kibum nods frantically. He keeps one hand in Minho’s hair and moves the other to his own cock, using his precum to ease the glide. He’s leaking so much. He’s so hard. His entire body feels like fire and electricity and like one right move will set him off.
Minho’s losing it too, Kibum can tell. He’s pistoning in and out so fast and hard and it’s almost erratic now. There’s only Minho and how he’s chasing release. Kibum is just along for the ride, being used as a cocksleeve. He loves it, fuck he loves it so much. He mewls, moans, writhes, tightens his grip on his own cock while focusing on stroking and squeezing around the head of it. Minho is rubbing just right inside him, a continuous pressure against his sensitive walls and prostate.
Kibum gasps, feels himself rhythmically clenching around Minho, and his orgasm rips through him like he got struck by lightning. He comes between them, all over Minho’s nice shirt. Minho’s eyes are locked on him the whole time, until they’re not. Minho tilts his head back, the space between his eyebrows forming eleven-lines as they scrunch together, his mouth hanging open, until his face relaxes completely. He’s barely pulling out, just giving Kibum these hard, shallow, stilted thrusts that feel so good and overstimulating that Kibum is biting his lips to hold back the embarrassing sounds he’s still having trouble keeping down, despite the fact that he just came.
Minho’s face is so hot like this, when he’s coming in hot spurts inside of Kibum. He can feel all of it, and tightens around Minho’s cock instinctively at the stimulation. Minho moans, keeps going until he’s wrung dry, and even then Kibum wants more. He’s so worn out and his head is fuzzy and he’s so satisfied, but he wants Minho to stay inside him, to keep fucking him past overstimulation and to feel Minho’s cum sliding inside him the whole time. A little gross, sure, but he can worry about that when he’s not cock-drunk.
Minho tilts his head forward, knocking it gently against Kibum’s so they’re forehead-to-forehead again. They just breathe together, gathering themselves after all that. Kibum watches him, feels his breath fanning along his lips, and can’t believe he can have Minho, the most annoyingly perfect man he knows, like this whenever he wants.
When Minho opens his eyes, they’re locked onto Kibum’s, so close it’s overwhelming. Minho’s intensity is a lot to get used to. He never managed in the last twenty years, and he doesn’t think he ever will, at this point. Especially now that Minho can be unrestrained with it, that he knows Kibum feels the same way and won’t push him away, not seriously at least. It’s so much, too much. Kibum wants it forever.
Minho smiles, and it’s so pretty and charming and boyish, Kibum feels this intense swell of affection overcome him. He presses a kiss to those smiling lips, and Minho kisses him back. Even after everything, he can’t believe how good Minho’s lips feel against his.
“So…” Minho starts, and Kibum can already tell he’s about to say something so stupid. “You wanted it that bad, huh?”
“You wish, it was just dirty talk.” He huffs, turning away from Minho.
Minho presses a kiss to his cheek, then another. “Yeah, okay, sure it was. And it was ‘just dirty talk,’ the time before that,” Minho kisses his jaw, “when you cried and begged so pretty for me.”
“I don’t remember any of that.” Kibum starts squirming in Minho’s arms, trying to escape. He’s still got his hands under Kibum’s ass, still trapping him against his broad chest and the cool surface of the fridge. The once-euphoric feeling of Minho’s cum inside him is starting to feel uncomfortable and gross. “Now get off of me, we need to shower.”
Minho hums, then looks down at where he threw the plug.
“Don’t even think about it, Choi Minho. That’s disgusting, it’s all dirty now. You are not putting that back in my ass.”
Minho pouts at him, but slowly lowers him to the floor. He holds onto Kibum’s hips, making sure he’s somewhat stable on his trembling legs, before walking over to the plug and picking it up. Kibum is bracing himself against the fridge, not quite trusting his legs yet.
Minho inspects the plug, a curious glint in his eye. He looks back up at Kibum, and raises an eyebrow. “Pearl aqua, Kibummie, really?”
Kibum feels his cheeks burning. “So what? I thought you liked pearl aqua.”
“I do, but that’s a sacred color! You can’t just have a color that special in your ass. You’re defiling it!”
Kibum scoffs, offended. “Oh, so you’re saying my ass isn’t good enough for our fan color?”
“No, I love your ass, I’m just saying it’s not right!”
“Let’s see if I ever let you near my ass again, after that!” Kibum huffs, and wobbles toward Minho, grabbing onto his shoulder for stability. “Now get me in the shower and get your nasty cum out of me.”
Minho looks back down at the plug, then up at Kibum, down again. “I didn’t get a chance to see it in you…”
“Absolutely not!”
Minho helps him to the shower. They poke at each other the whole time. If they have shower sex while they’re in there, and if Minho’s whispering low and hot in his ear about how he changed his mind, that he suddenly thinks it’s a sexy color and he wants to see Kibum wrapped in pearl aqua lace someday, well.
Bickering is just their foreplay.