𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙖

DISCLAIMER ( ! ) this is not intended to promote unprotected sexual practices or the security of not getting pregnant/not contracting STD. please don't take this as your comprehensive sex education. all facts and events are fictitious. the written scenes do not represent any real person nor do they plan to steal/falsify their identity. any coincidence with names and places is pure artistic creation by and for entertainment.

If there’s one person you never thought you’d have your first time with, it's Lee Minho.

Everything you know about his life has been discovered against your will, and you have to say you know him all too well. You have been training as dancers since you were children and have gone through not only puberty, but also adulthood together. Sounds cute, doesn’t it? Yes, bullshit. Having grown up with the same social circles meant finding out about each of his relationships and adventures that you could never care less about, while he never heard the slightest anecdote coming from you.

Minho knows that today, having the same age and practically the same life as him, you are a total novice and inexperienced chick in absolutely everything. The issue here is that you two are not friends. You were convinced that it would stay that way until the last of your days, however, your relationship took a resounding twist the moment you got into your coach’s van.

STAGE 01: THE ASSEMBLING.

The day you parted towards the annual competition city started as normal as any day next to Minho could start. Both of you got into that van with a common destiny, but with interests as different as the seats you choose. While you sat in the back next to the academy junior, Hwang Hyunjin, he sat in the front ― and he didn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror.

It’s a bit confusing to explain how it all started for Minho. He has had his eyes on you quite since you became teenagers. It was fair at first, you had stopped being a little girl and your physical appearance caught his attention. It got personal as the years went by and you didn’t show any kind of interest in the change he had made. You weren’t impressed by his good looks, by his personality, by his popularity, anything. The fact that you didn’t pay attention to him like the rest turned him so curious, it aroused a curiosity that morphed into a kind of obsession with having your eyes on him.

That being said, the routine developed with a fluid rhythm the first few days. You traveled, settled in the assigned rooms, shared your meals as a team, practiced, and ended up in the current situation. Searching for relaxation.

It took you three days to find out that there was a jacuzzi in the hotel, unlike Minho who made good use of it since arriving. The dark, humid night made it a bit difficult for him to differentiate the figure he found submerged in the water. Once he got close enough he recognized no one other than you. His muscles were atrophied, they got even more tensed from remembering how tight the air had felt to him throughout those endless traveling hours days ago. There you were, so quiet and calm unlike that trip where the only thing he heard over the coach’s old-fashioned choice of music was your laughter after the cheeky flirting attempts coming from the younger guy.

And there you were too, not knowing that only minutes separated you from making the biggest mistake you had ever made.

"Can we share?", Minho asks, leaning over the edge of the hot tub. His voice appears so sudden that it scares you.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him before answering. Nevertheless, he doesn't wait for your approval to dive to the other side. "You're already diving in," you point out the obvious.

"I know, I just didn't want to lose my manners".

You watch askance, he settles in with a small groan of satisfaction. Your arms surround your figure, holding yourself in place. It's not easy to hide how weird you feel with Minho's presence alone. It's not awkward, it's just a weird feeling that you would have had with any other guy.

Minho analyzes your reaction and draws his own conclusions from that strange expression on your face. With a chuckle, he confronts you as brazenly as he usually does. "I don't work out 4 hours a day for you to be disgusted at seeing me shirtless".

His comment makes you aware of how tight your features are, and you relax them. You must have looked so impolite. "Sorry, this is a bit strange".

"Why? Would it be just as weird if Hyunjin joined us?”

Your features contract again. Minho laughs, he got exactly what he expected.

“Just kidding”, he smiles. “I didn't know that Hyunjin and you were so close. I never see you talking in dance classes”.

The accusation turns you as confused as you can be. Still, you don't mind clearing things up. "We are friends. We usually talk outside class”.

He nods. "I see".

The hot water invites him to cup his hands to take a small amount and wet his dry neck. The drops fall along his collarbones, down his chest, and you realize your eyes are following them when they reach his pectorals.

“How about the rest of your friends? I haven't heard from them in a long time”, Minho interrupts your inspection.

Your eyes instantly flip to his. Your eyelashes give away the movement, and that's why you don't hesitate to respond with a little suddenness to hide it. A bit of irony, rather. “What do you mean you haven't heard from my friends? How odd. I thought you were popular with everyone”. 

There's Minho's laugh again. You can vibrate in the same tune if you put your mind to it, and that seems hilarious to him. “Nevermind. I already remembered why I can't have a serious conversation with you".

"Because you don’t try it. You only say stupid things that make me uncomfortable”.

Minho arches one of his eyebrows. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your question is tricky. Minho stretches his legs out on purpose, moving closer to you without being so obvious. You feel the closeness of his limbs and shrink in place. Your actions are a little bit demonstrative.

"No", you still whisper. "It's just that you and I aren't that close but you act like we were".

"What are you talking about? We've known each other since we were kids".

"That's why. You're still acting just as immature".

The laughter doesn't stop on Minho's part, and you still can't figure out what's so funny. Your body gets smaller and smaller, and he gets more and more comfortable. "Why are you so mean to me?"

"I'm not mean. I just don't like getting involved in these… type of situations… with you”.

He mirrors the confused expression on his own face, but the smile doesn't fade. He’s excited about knowing what your acting is about because it means he'll understand how you see him. With no second thought, he fires off his next accusation of the night. “Why? Are you afraid someone thinks we're close?"

The way his lips pout tickles your insides, in a bad way. Minho can look so arrogant even when he doesn't mean to.

You look around, making it more than clear that his words are true.

“It's nothing personal, Minho. You have a terrible reputation with girls".

“And what? That doesn't mean I'm―”.

“A whore?”

“No―”.

You giggle at your own insinuation. You don't even know where that came from. "I'm sorry", you drop your head down. "Judging someone by their body counts it's too old fashioned".

Minho won't let you pass it by, clearly. “You just said I was a whore”.

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like answering like you do”.

Thoughts mix inside Minho's head. There is something interfering with his initial purpose of getting your attention that leads him to be brusquely honest. The corner of his mouth lifts, but this time he doesn't laugh. No, he doesn't find what he's about to say funny. It is wonderful to him as if it were a discovery.

“I knew you were kind of a weirdo, but, now I get why you haven’t been laid on yet”.

Your eyelids fail to close smoothly, your blinks are literally jerky with how brazen and shameless what you heard was. "Excuse me?"

The realization that Minho knows this information about you makes you feel insecure all of a sudden, and the way your brows rise gives it away.

“What the even fuck does that mean?”, you add.

Minho points his finger at you to explain himself. “It is obvious that you are the ideal type of many boys, but you have a very loose tongue for them to take advantage of you so easily”.

You really don't understand how the conversation got sidetracked here. Your parted lips show that you have no words. You don't know if you feel scared or disappointed by what you hear.

“Is that what you do with girls? Is that why you're so popular?"

Minho snorts. Your accusation bears some truth and he doesn’t care to deny it.

“Do I look like the type of person who engages in small talk? No girl has ever stopped to meet me".

Worry leaves your body like a cloud of smoke. You can't take seriously that little part of his speech that tries to hold some pity. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your hand to your chest. "Oh, poor thing".

Your teasing makes him laugh, but his attention is drawn to the water running down your chest at your hand gesture. Just as you did previously without him noticing, now he inspects how easy it will be to move on inside the talk. You, of course, advance.

"You fuck all the girls you want but none of them know about your traumas," you insinuate with heavy sarcasm, putting on the most tetchy expression of pity. "It must be really hard being you".

It's inevitable, Minho laughs out loud. Genuinely.

“I didn't remember you being so funny,” he confesses.

"I already told you. It's because you don't know as much about me as you make it seem".

Your response feels victorious, righteous enough to make it your last words. You decide to put an end to your relaxation session, and so you get up with the purpose of leaving. You scan the surroundings until you find the towel you brought for yourself. Minho imitates you, and just as you, he realizes that it’s behind him. He reaches out his arm and takes it.

What a gentleman, you wrongly think.

As soon as you hold out your hand thinking he'll give it to you, Minho moves the towel out of your reach. You stretch towards it by inertia, and you end up inevitably closer to him. Minho looks up to meet your gaze that tries to be hard on him but only makes him smile mischievously.

"Do you really think I don't know you that well?", he asks. 

The question feels out of place given the clear outcoming of the scene that doesn't seem so clear to him. You don't even say a word, you just insist on taking the towel that doesn't reach your hand since Minho has other plans. He is too curious about the discussed topic to let it go.

“How can it not be hard for you?”, he insists. "Aren't you desperate to have something, anything?"

You know exactly what kind of thing he's referring to. You can't understand why the fuck you're talking about your inexperience with Lee Minho.

“Unlike some people, I do know how to control what I have between my legs”, you assure proudly.

You press your hand on the edge next to him so you don't lose your balance, and reach out trying to snatch the towel away from him. Obviously, you fail to do so. Minho throws the towel away and doesn't even give you time to judge his actions. His now-free hand slides up the back of your thigh, giving you the gentlest push to get you to lean into his body.

It all happens too fast, it takes you more than a second to process that his hands have settled you on his lap. Your eyes stay locked on his as if you're afraid to look at anything that's happening and accept that you're, in fact, straddling him.

The air becomes warm, tense. You've never experienced this kind of modesty, it's an embarrassment that leaves you frozen. The fabric of your swimsuit is a bit thinner than usual, and it makes you realize that you are much closer to Minho than you think. It’s so intimate that it becomes ridiculous. It doesn't make sense for you to be in this position, with this guy.

“What are you doing?”, you ask in a whisper.

Minho brings his arms back, he rests his elbows on the edge of the jacuzzi showing that he will not touch you without you approving the situation. Of course, he then answers your question hoping that it leads to that approval.

"I want you to try to control what you have between your legs now".

You could have laughed, but you don't. His request is so obscene, you know he's referring to his cock — you can feel the contact with your crotch so vividly. Your heartbeat accelerates, it makes you nervous to be aware that your cunt is reacting. The heat that runs through your body also runs between the middle of your legs and the pathetically correct angle at which you are sitting.

Minho doesn't want you to misunderstand his seemingly vulgar intentions, so he adds the second part of his proposal. "Or you can slap me for being a whore like you said, and walk away".

But no, strangely, you don't want to leave. You don't want to slap him. Why the hell don't you want to walk away and slap him? You should run away right now!

"Why would I slap you?", is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

You swallow hard, your throat feels dry. Your eyes drop to Minho's shoulders, and your trembling hands follow the target to rest on top of them. Your fingers are cold from exposing your hands to the wind after pulling them out of the water, but Minho loves the feeling of them on his skin.

You have so many questions, so many doubts, and so many things that you could use as an explanation as to why you are not resisting. It's definitely not because you want to do anything with him, but having to develop such a statement and expect Minho to believe it would be wasting your breath.

You lower your head a little embarrassed, and look at the small bulge that forms in Minho's shorts below you. You just wanted the damn towel and now you're wondering what happens next. You look up, and once you meet his gaze, you decide to be honest about what you think.

"I don't know what you expect me to do, but I don't like you taking advantage of my inexperience".

Minho instantly denies with his head. "I'm not taking advantage of it. I'm giving you opportunities to make it disappear".

Oh, how thoughtful he is.

"That doesn't mean I want to take them, Minho".

He understands, he really does. But he also knows the general reactions enough to know that if nothing was holding you back, you wouldn't be sitting on him right now.

“Do you want to do it right now? The answer can only be yes, or no”.

"Of course I want to, but this feels weird", you admit, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "Doing it like this, without prior context... it's weird".

"It's not weird, it's the easy way", he contradicts with a click of his tongue. "Do you know why so many people explore their love and sex life in a loose and carefree way?"

No, if you knew the answer you wouldn't still be a virgin at this age. 

You shake your head from side to side, and freeze as Minho reaches up to your face to give it to you. His lips remain just an inch away from yours, and his eyebrows make a quick wiggle that you can't even register when you hear his voice.

"Because they don't get tangled". 

The air compressing your chest is released in the form of a sigh that hits Minho's mouth warmly. His eyes invite you to believe that he is an expert on the subject that you should trust. So, without even thinking about it for a fraction of a second, you press your lips to his to test what he said.

"People just do that?", you question, almost disoriented. Your words are airy. “Without any kind of feeling or explanation?”

Minho brings his hands to your sides, acknowledging the green light. His fingers cushion your hips, subtly nudging them to press against his.

"No, actually there is a feeling”, he clarifies. "It's called lust".

“Lust?”, you repeat the word.

"Do you know what lust is?"

Of course you know, but somehow you're ashamed to admit it, and that's why your body speaks for you. The way your skin gets covered in goosebumps, your breathing becomes even heavier, and the tremor in your hips as you feel the friction in your cunt form the answer to his question.

You swallow again, conditioned by your obvious nerves. "I get an idea of what it is".

Minh smiles. His tongue slides between his lips as he licks them, leaving you plenty of room for you to imagine what he can do with it. The pressure in his hands increases, you move your hips closer to his on purpose.

"Well, let me clear the picture for you", is the last combo of words that gets exchanged between the two.

His moist lips meet yours in a juicily. It doesn't feel wrong as it should, in fact, it awakens within you a curiosity of wanting more. Your mouth follows the movements of his until you manage to find a comfortable path. Your bottom lip gets sucked on briefly, leaving you stunned and elated at the same time. How is it possible that such a small action can make you feel heat between your legs?

Your restlessness encourages Minho to limit your hips, and not only that, but to give them the movement he wants. He drags them back and forth and ignites that sparkling contact between your wet folds. The swimsuit is so suitable for this. The way both bodies achieve friction surprises you, you didn’t know that it was so easy and effective when it comes to getting turned on. You always doubted how someone could get wet so quickly before having sex, and now you understand it; your body reacts to what it has to react to with the right person.

Suddenly, your thoughts get interrupted by his lips’ absence. It works to catch your breath but it shakes you off just as quickly — Minho's mouth reaches your neck with no warning. Your eyes don't open, they press almost as hard as his fingers dig into your waist.

Minho definitely enjoys this more than you, he did want it beforehand.

You feel something strange in the area he’s kissing, something that makes you tilt your head to the opposite side. It's wet, it's ticklish, it's warm. The erotic sound you hear when you feel all that disappear makes you understand that he has released a suction on your skin. You don't know exactly how to react, however, you don't have time to do it. His palms climb up your back and push you gently to draw you to his face again. And your lips meet again.

Damn, your mouths can’t stop meeting between breath and breath.

Not sooner had you registered how hot your blood is pumping through your veins than you registered the entry of Minho's tongue into your mouth. You allow it, and you follow it. It's a new sensation and interestingly not as grotesque as you imagined. It's not as disastrous as it should be. The only disaster is your arousal’s moisture lubricating your insides. You are so aware of his pressing cock under you that you ignore the effect it’s having on your own sex. You're sure Minho isn't physically able to control his erection, but you know he's aware of it as well.

You press down on his shoulders so firmly that you dig your nails into his back, and push yourself away from his mouth. You move those inches away from his face with a sigh that feels as if you've let him suck your soul out. You make eye contact with him, but you quickly avoid it.

"Sorry, I, I don't know what the hell I'm doing".

Your honesty is joined by a short shake of your head. Minho tries to process your reaction, realizing that you're regretting humoring him. He silently surveys you, and he brings his hand up to your chin for you to look back at him.

“You good?”, he asks, hoping you'll pick up where you were.

But you don't. No, you're not as ready for this as you wanted to make it seem.

"Yes, but I don't know what I'm doing”, you repeat.

You sigh a second time, and taking advantage of the hold you still have on his shoulders, you push yourself up. Minho's arms scrabble from your figure as you rise, then fall to his sides when you finally decide to climb out of the hot tub. He just watches you, accepting that you will vanish like fog. His head follows your movements and the way the water trickles down your legs. You grab the towel that conflictingly started it all, and don't even bother to cover more than your nether so you can pull away without feeling like his eyes are piercing through your butt — even though they are.

A frustrated sigh slips past Minho's chapped lips. His elbows stretch out over the edge, making himself comfortable once more. The images of the recent sequence repeat in his head and cause him to let out a small chuckle. He ducks his head at the sound, shaking it from side to side in disbelief at what just happened.

His thumb flies to his bottom lip, and he slides it along it as if he can collect your essence from them. He lets his tongue peek between them, and licks to savor every last trace of you. He lifts his head and looks in the direction you left just to whisper to himself.

"You can come back when you know it, though".

02, 03. THE AWKWARDNESS AND THE CONFRONTATION.

You have felt uncomfortable after a strange situation with someone repeatedly throughout your life, but this is totally different.

Not a single word has been exchanged between you and Minho since both entered the practice room, none other than 'play the song'. It’s a very inopportune situation to have a number together for this dance competition. Luckily for you, Minho is too professional and competitive to ruin everything, but of course, he's also too cunning and quick to gain control. His eyes don’t detach from your smallest movements and gestures that only confirm how tense you are compared to the practices prior to the peculiar encounter that you had.

The song's bridge choreography forces him to come up behind you and take your right hand, and you feel more invaded than ever. You have never felt invaded by a choreography. It's false, it's an interpretation, it shouldn't make you nervous but it does. Minho's hand on your waist makes you nervous. His eyes search yours on purpose, they realize something is holding you back from giving your best as usual.

His mouth is right next to your ear, he whispers into it. "Why are you so tense?"

The deep, accusatory voice makes you duck your head as if you've been tickled. Memories of Minho's lips near that same area whip through your brain. It's so hard to hide.

"Sorry", you apologize for messing up the dance. "I'm just a little uncomfortable right now".

You let go of the hand you're holding, leaving his fingers uselessly hanging in the air. You tuck your hair behind your ears and release the pressed air in your chest to try following the beats again. The song keeps playing.

Minho sees the situation as an offer to find out if what happened was a one-time thing, or if it could lengthen. You, with your head down to see your feet, resume your grip on his hand without even seeing what you're doing. He watches your fingers and the delicate way they rest on his palm, he can only think of how brusquely they pressed into his shoulders while he had you on top of him.

His free hand goes back to your waist despite the choreography no longer demanding it. You notice his movements don’t match the song, and consequently raise your head. There it is his whispering again. 

“You're uncomfortable?”

He questions it as if the option of being distressed about being intimate with him is possible. Unfortunately for his ego, it is. 

“Yes, Minho. I'm not the best at pretending that I'm not bothered by making out with you and then having to dance like it's nothing".

He smiles. He likes that you talk back and don't just stay silent staring at him like a fool.

“It was just a couple of kisses”, he reminds you of the scenes. His hand presses against your side emphasizing the next words that come out of his filthy mouth. "It's not like I fucked you in front of the entire hotel".

Your eyes close. The images created by his supposition are so obscene, they even make you shy. Just thinking that you could have undressed, you could have allowed him to touch you, you could have let him explore your body and do whatever he wanted with you makes your hair stand on end. He chuckles, the scene reflected in the mirror is funny to see.

"Just pretend it never happened, (name)", he suggests, hinting something more appropriate for the moment. "It didn't mean anything to you, did it?"

You raise your head and look at Minho's face instead of looking at his reflection. You want to confront him and give him that long, boring explanation you were supposed to give before agreeing to kiss him ― but you don't. He arches an eyebrow at you at the intense eye contact, then lowers his gaze to your lips. 

“We all had one traumatic and impulsive make out session once”, he assures as if he were totally convinced of it. “You are not the only one who will learn to deal with the memory”.

There’s something inside you that urges you to argue with him. You squeeze his hand in yours as if that's the impulse to give an answer ― words hanging from the tip of your tongue that only get stuck in your throat when the studio door is opened. 

“My so obedient dancers”, interrupts that familiar male voice out of nowhere. 

Looking over Minho's shoulder, the coach’s figure makes its appearance. He sees him walking in through the reflection, and you back away with small steps so as not to make the situation any weirder than it already is. You try to loosen your hold on his hands, but Minho doesn’t.

“Practicing hard without being asked”, adds the coach as you realize that Minho won't let go of you.

It wouldn't be a big deal considering the man in front of you sees you playing pieces that require physical contact all the time, however, he's not the only person walking through that door. Seconds separate his entrance from Hyunjin's, who sets his eyes directly on your joined hands. You gulp, worried about how the scene is displayed and how you'll perform in front of the two observers.

Minho makes eye contact with the younger man through the mirror, the smirk that spreads across his lips is evil. He licks them to sneak the gesture up, even though it's obvious that he's pleased with what he put on display so effortlessly. He is one step ahead of Hyunjin for the first time, and he knows it.

And you? You know that you got into this problem on your own without thinking about how it would affect you. And the worst part is that it’s barely starting.

04. THE DESIRE.

But not any desire, a desperate man’s desire.

Minho has felt this way before. He knows that feeling so well that he can decipher exactly what is happening to him. And that makes him sick, because it makes him feel weak. How could a few minutes of your taste become poison to him?

He can't stop thinking about you. About your body, your skin.

The dark, gloomy ceiling of the hotel room gives him plenty of room to return to that night. He only sees you, your hands, your thighs, your chest. He can only picture the way the water trickled down your legs when you got up, the drops wetting your back. His head is full of your hips grinding on top of his. He feels so dirty, so perverted. He closes his eyes in search of falling asleep once and for all, and all he sees is the multiple outcomes that the moment would have had if you hadn’t backed up. He sees himself removing that tiny swimsuit. He sees his lips kissing your chest, making you whimper. He sees you begging for more and sinking into his length until you’re full. He sees your cunt stuffed, jumping on his cock, writhing in pleasure for him.

Minho wants you, he has already experienced it with other girls. The problem is that this time it is not reciprocal.

“Shit”, he curses his frustration out with only that word.

He can't put into a sentence how much he really wants to have you after only one little taste. How difficult it feels to get you with how out of his reach you are settles one option between his hands. Ironically, his own hands.

He gives absolutely zero fucks to how unethical it is of him to imagine you naked. He cares little to nothing how wrong it is to think that the hand that slips into his pants is yours. Or worse yet, that it's your warm little hole.

Just imagining it makes his hips buck up instantly, he feels every part of his body getting warm with the light touch of his fingers on the underside of his dick. He palms everything on top of his boxers' fabric, feeling how hard he is. The grip around him becomes proper once he breaks the barrier with his underwear, he pumps his fist without even flinching in guilt. There is no guilt. His hisses are audible, the stimulation is concise and effective. The growls soon escape his mouth, he chases after his high as if he were running a marathon with a very fixed goal. His wrist moves fluidly, it's natural for Minho to find the rhythm of things and follow it without losing it.

He's focused, he's euphoric. “Agh, (name)”, he whimpers at a quite loud volume considering his roommate isn’t there. “Damnit”.

Minho transports to that night. He feels the touch of your hands on his skin, your gaze, the touch of your untouched pussy over his clothed cock. It is literally inhuman how quickly the pleasure builds with each stroke of his hand. His free fingers press against the sheets with the same anger that the precum spreads around his slit. His eyes are closed so tightly that flashes show up before his lids. Heat rises from his feet to his middle. The way his heartbeat speeds leaves him unable to think of anything else but the thrill of thrusting into you over and over again. His mouth waters just imagining how delicious it must be to wriggle his tip through your wet folds, to see you restless and desperate to have him inside you.

Damn, he looks so pathetic right now. His lips part with every moan that rolls past them, his cheeks are flushed, his hair disheveled from throwing his head back.

Minho has done this more times than he'll admit, and yet none have ever felt this way. His cock throbs so strongly, the feeling makes his thighs spasm. He sinks deep into the idea that it's your pure walls that are squeezing him instead of his hand, that when he presses around his base, he simply ejaculates. Disastrously. His hips lose nearly all control, he expands his thighs and gives in to the image of his cum filling you as it overflows all over his hand. He thrusts up once, twice, even a third time until his pelvis stiffens motionlessly from the intensity of the orgasm. His wrist doesn't stop until it hurts.

The prick of overstimulation reaches, and it makes him gasp. He rolls to the side feeling like he just fell from a fifth floor on impact. His breathing is so heavy, it echoes inside his skull along with the sound of his heart and fading whines.

It takes him a solid minute to open his eyes, accepting in advance that he won't run into you when he does. Indeed, the darkness of the room brings him back to reality as he looks around ― his head burying itself in the pillow. He shudders on the spot, unable to formulate another thought other than realizing how screwed up he is. 

His hot cum all over the mattress isn’t the biggest problem to solve right now. Minho won't survive long this way. He needs to make you his for his own good.

05, 06. THE CHASE AND THE HAUNT.

Or maybe not said that way. After analyzing it in every way and with every possible outcome, Minho came to the conclusion that he needs to go after you. He is the one that needs to have something, anything.

Your acclaimed person is so distant from what happened last night in his room, and what currently goes through his head. As expected, you locked yourself in the practice room to polish your individual number only for your clothing staff to kidnap you through it to finalize the details of the outfits you would wear.

Minho was called to the room for the same purpose, and that's how he finally finds you. Accidentally, rather.

Of course that the kind and sweet stylist you share would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, in fact, she thought you had already left the wardrobe when she sent Minho to try on the two pieces he would have to choose from for his own outfit. Minho also didn't realize you were there until he moved the door and collided with your figure. Your shirtless figure.

"Oh, sorry", he apologizes, stepping back.

You look up and see him through the wardrobe mirror. You do nothing but laugh, the reaction seems funny to someone who has seen you in a bikini. Pretty up close.

"You saw me in a bathing suit already", you say out loud.

The accusation forces him to stop on his tracks just to prove that he is not acting with the same intentions as before. "I can still be a gentleman, don't you think?"

You laugh again instead of answering. Surely he can, but him saying it so confidently while standing there doesn't sit right. You don't feel exposed despite his eyes being glued to you ― some particular dance outfits provided you with the confidence that the exposure requires, they have helped you lose your shyness and face the staring. Minho confirms that he didn't take his time enjoying you now that he sees you again with just a tiny piece of clothing covering your chest. Those same curves, the defined spine, the smooth skin, those hips. Everything was within his reach and he hardly profited.

His silence turns you curious. You flip your head to look at his face as you unfold the garment that will cover your observed torso, trying to figure out what he is doing.

"Will you stand there until I’m done with my fit?"

Minho makes eye contact with you. His expression remains as serious as it can be.

“I could”, he hints. “There is only one fitting room”.

"You could wait outside, though".

He nods his head. "I could", he uses that tone that seems sarcastic with how obvious his eyes are. His gaze doesn't lie, he clearly couldn't. "Do you want me to wait outside?"

What a stupid question, you would think of any other situation than this. With anyone other than Minho. That fine line between seeking your consent and testing you makes your hair stand on end, and you don't know if it irritates you or you love it.

You look down at the zipper of the garment, deducing by the touch behind you if you’re able to close it. You lean to the side to look through the mirror and make the task easier, deciding after the failure that the answer you'll give Minho will be for your convenience.

“I want you to help me with this”, you shake the end of the garment that you can’t fit into the zipper by yourself. "If you're going to stand there like a fool at least be useful".

Minho is ridiculously attracted to your tough talk. He does like being the one in control, but something about your command arouses interest in him. Perhaps, it’s considering that he can approach you and go in search of his initial purpose. He comes up behind you and zips the piece up, you asked for his help and he gave it to you. Now, he will ask a question and expect you to provide an answer.

“Do you still feel uncomfortable about what happened that night?”, he shoots his bomb.

Clearly, it catches you off guard.

You know exactly what night Minho is talking about, it's the only thing you've been thinking about since it happened. You can no longer sleep, shower or eat without thinking about how close you came to sleeping with a guy for the first time. The answer to his question is no, you don't feel uncomfortable, but that's not what you say.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about it", he goes straight to the point. Unlike you.

Your stomach does something that it only does when you face fear. Anxiety. You won’t confess with words that you’re in the same state as him, you rather see him be the loser this time just for pleasure. You look up through the mirror like that morning in the practice room ― now you're controlling the situation and that gives you confidence.

"Too bad", you coo. "You said that it had to be done with no feeling other than lust".

"I know. But I feel like I'm not even thinking straight, it's like I'm not thinking with my head".

"Oh, so you're thinking with your dick".

Minho snorts, offended by your lack of seriousness. "Don't be so vulgar".

You're not trying to be vulgar, you’re just realistic. Minho moves his foot behind him, giving the door a brief but strong shove to close it. The impact startles you. You’re not entirely able to connect Minho's actions with his second intentions until he looks down at your face. There it is that familiar closeness to your ear that makes you aware of your surroundings.

"When you ran out saying you didn't know what you were doing… was that the only reason why you left?"

Your gaze remains lowered despite feeling Minho's fixed on your face. Remembering how embarrassing it was to run away makes you giggle.

“What other reason would there be? You know I've never done anything, I didn't feel brave enough to start that night".

Minho grins. The answer is a bit tricky, but it's not the denial he feared to hear. It has a firm structure to hold on to. He dares to lay his fingers on the back of your hand, he traces the blunt lines of your veins with his soft fingertips. It climbs slowly, with daintiness. The truth is that you're not thinking about what Minho is suggesting, otherwise, you'd run away again. 

Even more so when his voice drops to a whisper. "So that means I'm not the problem, right?"

Minho cares too much. And you don't understand why.

Your fingers move trying to take his by intuition. He doesn't grant you the grip, though, his hand goes around your wrist. Up your arm, over your shoulder and back down before you can ask your question.

“Why is it so important?”, you ask. Criticize even. 

“Because I don't want to struggle over something I can get”, he clarifies. 

His fingers shove the ends of your hair, exposing your neck on the opposite side that he is. You raise your head, attempting to make an eye contact that fails awkwardly. Minho turns his head to the side he exposed, and sighs directly against your skin. His breath is warm, it makes you shrug. You feel his grip around your wrist and don't fight it back, you allow him to rotate your figure so that your back faces the wall. You look up into his eyes and inevitably take a step back — your body meets the wall to remind you that there is no escape. Neither from this moment, nor from Lee Minho.

Your attention drops to his lips and the way they move as he talks. “Let me try something different with you, angel”. 

You shouldn't laugh, but your reaction is quite cheeky. You chuckle at the pet name he chose. Angel, the word repeats itself in your brain until you manage to meet his eyes again.

"You say that to every girl you've been with?", you nag at his offer. 

Part of you is asking honestly, and part of you is expecting a sarcastic answer that would be very Minho-esque. How could he betray his faithful personality?

He arches an eyebrow, the gesture doesn't show the slightest intention of denying your accusation. “Probably”, he then says, taking a step closer. "But now it's your turn to hear it".

His hand falls to the side of your head, his palm firmly pressed against the wall to support his weight. Minho analyzes you. He knows that language in girls when it comes to this instance with them. The lack of rejection, the tension in the air. You, in addition to said tension, feel very nervous. You want to laugh out of fear and awareness of the unfolding sequence, but you don't have time to do so. Minho presses a kiss to your lips so gently that you have a hard time registering it. Your eyes don't even close, they stay open and lucid to look at him when he pulls away.

“What are you even doing?”, you whisper. Panicked.

“I told you so”, he mumbles with refined acuity. “I’m being a gentleman”.

The expression on your face reflects exactly what a question mark would reflect. You don't understand anything, and you don't keep quiet about it.

"I don't want you to be a gentleman with me", you express. Maybe, choosing the wrong words.

Minho interprets what he wants, and with a smile at the corner of those lips that just kissed yours, he lifts an eyebrow at you again. The cocky innuendo from him sends you instant regret. 

You sigh.

"No―, I don't mean it that way", you clarify, trying to arrange your speech. But, it is exactly that battle with words that Minho has already expressed that he finds useless.

“You need to stop beating around the bush, (name)".

His suggestion doesn’t come alone, no, his free hand joins his act. He pushes under your chin and holds your head to access your neck. His voice drops to a whisper to fit the environment. 

"If I'm not the problem, why do you avoid the great opportunities you have to gain experience?"

"Because I'm ashamed!", you admit. "I don't want to look like a fool".

Minho chuckles.

“Like a fool?”, he asks with an incredulous tone. “Do you have any idea how sexy you looked on top of me? Grinding your hips down on mine, enjoying whatever that messy thing that we were doing was”.

Your heart, strangely, remains relaxed. What becomes difficult for you is breathing. Minho's breath hits that spot just below your ear that he's been clinging to in every last interaction you've had. You have to admit that you're desperate to feel his lips on top of it again. 

Amusingly, Minho does. His lips press against your skin just once, to show you that he understands what you want without you telling him.

“Do you think I'll make fun of you for being clueless?”, he questions your fears, wrinkling his nose to keep from laughing. "I just want us to feel good, to finish what started that time".

The idea gives you goosebumps. Though to be fair it's probably Minho's voice in your ear. His fingers expand, he drags them up your neck, down your chest, around your waist, and they finally stick to the waistband of your pants. Minho blatantly insists on pulling the fabric. You no longer have doubts about what will happen if you allow him to continue, and that is why you must stop him.

You place your hand on top of his, and lower your gaze to such. "Lee Minho, for God's sake, I'm not having my first time with you in a dressing room".

"You're right", he agrees with no second thought. "I need manners with you".

Well… being slumped on the bed in his hotel room after that was fair enough.

The outfit issue is long forgotten by the time the only clothes left on you are your underwear set. Minho discarded each item of clothing as if he was unwrapping a present, his eyes glistening at every inch of skin exposed like he was removing the lid from a saucer.

His lips are everywhere, his hands can’t stop roaming along your figure. It's the first time you've moved so unconsciously, you don’t even realize your fingers pull on his hair while he's on top of you. He has every detail covered, his knee between your thighs presses into the wet patch of your panties. His teeth nibble on your chest to leave a mark. Everything feels hot, intense, humid. You can’t describe what you feel in your stomach, it may be anxiety.

Minho takes his time, he certainly does, but you have no speed perception. However, you do have space one. Your eyes register every movement, you're afraid to admit you're paying too much attention ― you notice Minho's messy hair, how angry the veins are on his arms, how defined his waist seems circled by your thighs, and how incredibly sexy he looks holding his member in his hands as he tests how easy it may or may not be to bury himself in you.

The sight of your aching pussy, begging for a more intense touch is even better than he had imagined in his fantasies. A deep chuckle takes over his words, his thoughts are released with no shame. “How will all this fit inside you?”, he whispers while stroking himself. "Can you take it all?"

It’ll be difficult, that is a fact. Minho is extremely careful at sliding into your hole, he doesn't even remember the last time he was this slow and gentle with a girl. Hell, he also doesn't remember the last time someone hugged him so tight and warm. Even with the absolute control he has over his dancer's hips, he feels on a tightrope in not being able to stay completely still inside you.

Your complaints don't take long to arrive. The burning and discomfort is real, it's a stretch you never thought you'd experience. You feel so full, intruded to be precise. You dig your nails into Minho's arm, whimpering in desperation. You need him to do something to make the feeling improve. He moves guardedly, his hand lowers to your thigh and tries to make his thrusts more bearable with his soft caresses.

"You're too tense", he points out the obvious. His thumb moves back and forth on your leg to soothe you.

You whine out loud, feeling your muscles contract. Minho growls at this, it's impossible for him not to react to what you give him unawarely. You clench so deliciously around him, he feels like the devil itself is testing his patience. He tucks his head into your neck, which allows you to whisper in his ear — it might be intimate, but the words coming out of your mouth aren't as passionate as he hopes. 

“Because it hurts like shit”, you exhale, gasping for air. Your chest is compressed, Minho knows he has to take responsibility for how much you're struggling to breathe.

He smiles, licking his lips to whip out the gesture. He raises his head, gaze meeting yours in such a candid way that you find it hard to believe that this is the same Minho you know. He takes your hand, making sure to maintain eye contact as he brings it to his mouth. He presses the most gentlemanly, sweet kiss to the back and lifts it over your head to keep it there.

Your heart races at his actions, they take you as unprepared as his relaxed voice that tries to convey coolness. “Try to relax, okay? I won't go any harder than this until it gets better”, he assures, knowing full well that standing still won't work — he moves slowly and fluidly so your pure, untouched walls conform to having something stretching them. "And if it doesn't improve, it dies right there".

You have no reason not to believe him, and your body knows it. Your body hears it. You throw your head back and close your eyes, concentrating on rescuing the good in everything that is happening around you right now. Minho smiles again, he can tell you're struggling but you're not making a fuss. Your fingers slip between his, and he automatically laces them together.

"That's it, angel", he cheers you up as he feels the change in your muscles. He squeezes your hand triumphant with the progression. "Do you think you can keep it that way?"

You know he's doing this for his own pleasure, but somehow, his accompaniment makes you feel like you're the center of attention. You nod vaguely, surprising yourself with the moan that rips the response from your tongue. "Fuck, uh, surely I can".

Minho's deep laugh makes you open your eyes, you now realize he’s watching you. There's something about the way your lashes grace your rising lids, something about the way your brows contract over your eyes that morphs your gaze into one of pure bliss. You smile, laughing airily at how fucked up you must look right now. Minho feels something similar to excitement twisting his gut when he sees that his goal is not as far away as he thought.

He leans in so he can hover all the way on top of you, grabbing your thigh with his free hand and gently lifting it up to make it hug his waist. He wants you closer than before, closer than ever. The feeling of your chest pressed against his is addicting. He doesn't let go of your hand, and he definitely won't do it until you dig your nails into the back of his while cumming. Minho groans, you feel so helpless and fragile in his grasp ― he wants to be the only man that lays his hands over you. 

His hips adjust to the new angle, counting on your contribution. He goes so deep once you relax, so viciously, he's forced to press his forehead to yours. Your sounds become firmer, they turn into more understandable moans, they leave him no choice but to be honest with you before it's too late. 

“Stay audible and clear for me, doll. I will only stop when you tell me to do it with your own words”.

And you exhale a little 'okay', but oh no, you definitely don't want him to stop this time.

07. THE CONFUSION.

The first thing you realized as soon as you opened your eyes was that you weren't in your room. Second, the clock said past 10 and that meant you were already late for breakfast. The speed with which you showered and got ready to go down to eat did not allow you to have a single thought, much less a memory of what happened in the afternoon-night. Sure, completely ignoring the ache between your legs and your muscles.

You entered the dining room and looked around for at least one person from your crew to confirm that they hadn't left for practice and abandoned you, which would be humiliating enough without having to explain why you were absent. You scanned the tables until you found Minho, and not too far away Hyunjin. 

Strangely, he is still sitting alone.

You simply grab a snack so you don't waste any more time eating, then blindly take a seat at the table where he is. Hyunjin looks up from his cup and doesn't greet you in the bright, warm way that he's known for. His eyes are dark, dull, as if he had slept terribly and the exhaustion is now transmitted to his soul. Your clumsy attempt to open your snack makes you avoid his gaze. 

“Am I too late?”, you ask, looking over Hyunjin's shoulder to see the coach sitting at the other table.

"No", he answers. "But we will be if you take too long with that snack".

You sigh, shaking your head in frustration. Your neck hurts, it's evident from the way you take your hand to your side to massage the muscles. The action is innocent, your only purpose is to relieve the tension, but it attracts Hyunjin's eyes. The mark on your skin is difficult to ignore for him, the hot water in the shower only made it more visible.

“I’m really sorry, I overslept”, you apologize, interrupting his staring ― straight at the hickey you still haven't realized you have.

You also don't notice that Hyunjin doesn't take his eyes off you since you’re too focused on munching the wafer. "Don't worry”, he says calmly despite throwing a sharp statement. “You probably ended up really tired from yesterday". 

It is only then that you raise your head. One hemisphere of your brain automatically links his comment to the exhaustive practice the three of you had for the vast majority of the day, while the other is connecting the pieces of what happened last night. It collects the events and puts them together at a speed that your tongue doesn’t respect, since you speak before you even understand what he means.

You chuckle, it's so funny to you. "You know something I don't?", you joke, tossing your hair behind your ear awkwardly.

Hyunjin chews the last piece of his toast, and shakes his head. You are so oblivious. 

"No, I just have a good ear", he explains, mimicking the giggle. "You're pretty vocal when you're having a good time".

The food goes down his throat with such a bitter taste that he needs to take that last sip of his coffee to wash it down. He’s so frustrated and angry that he can't even tell you to your face that he heard your particular encounter with Minho in his room, which he tried to get into at night and failed. He wipes the drops of the liquid from his lips with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and stands up abruptly. Your eyes follow his movements with confusion, his last words echo inside your head until you manage to join the dots.

Your eyes meet Minho's at the table across from you, and the change in your expression is clear. Your stomach drops to your feet. Damn, Hyunjin knows. You swallow quickly, dragging your chair to get up and go after him. 

“Hyunjin, wait!”

His steps don’t go as far as you expected, he stops regretfully in the corridor that connects the hall with the hotel stairs and conditions you to bump into him. He turns at the sound of your hurried footsteps, knowing that the conversation that follows is not a pleasant one. He raises his hands in front of you, ending the talk before it even begins. 

“Forget about it, (name)”.

“No, let me talk”, you insist on approaching him. "It's not what you think!"

The battle inside you to explain that between you and Minho nothing happens seems lost already. You don't feel like there's an explanation to why Hyunjin heard you having sex with him other than a failure to save what you thought existed between you two.

“And what is it then?”, he asks frankly. "I thought you and I were into each other, but I don't even know if you're single or not anymore".

"I am! What you heard has nothing to do with it—"

“I know very well what I heard, (name)”, he interrupts you. "I don't need you to explain in detail what you and Minho were doing, but at least don't make me think I have a chance with you when I don't".

His point is so, so consistent that telling the truth would make you sound like a liar. A stupid, indecisive liar.

"Yes, you do! Just let me explain this long story and you will understand!", you beg.

And Hyunjin really wants to listen to you in hopes of keeping that chance you swear that exists, but his pride won't let him. Nothing can erase that feeling of disappointment that overwhelmed his body when he heard you receiving pleasure, hearing you being satisfied by someone else while he spent the whole day thinking about the most discreet and respectful way to approach you. Dear lord, he felt like an idiot!

His eyes close, he’s mad with himself, he knows he's not in the mood for this to end well. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear it", he admits. He sounds as hurt as he is. "At least not now".

Hyunjin tries to turn around, but you grab his arm. "And when then?"

"When I don't feel like an idiot for hearing you fucking someone else". 

You watch his figure disappear up to the hotel stairs, feeling much the same disappointment that Hyunjin feels now. You can't believe how careless you were. How you allowed Minho to continue with his plan. Good heavens, what kind of person are you? You don't have any kind of emotional responsibility.

You turn around as frustrated as before, colliding with the guilty person. There, standing like a statue, is Minho silently watching you. You snort, annoyed, walking towards the room completely avoiding him. 

Of course, Minho isn’t taking your scene. He intercepts you by grabbing your arm and holding you back before you can keep walking away.

“(Name), what was that?” 

"It's none of your business".

“What? You were talking about me”

“Yeah, and that's why I don't want to be seen with you, Minho. Don’t you get it?"

No, he doesn’t.

"No, I don't!", he says out loud.

“Don't you realize that exactly what I said would happen, happened? You ruined my only chance to have something serious with Hyunjin!”

Minho can't process how it's his fault, but what comes out of your mouth still hurts him. He can’t understand at what point he did something so cruel. Or worse yet, what did he do to get there.

His hard expression softens by the simple fact that his feelings have just been attacked. "Did I ruin your chance?"

"Of course you did!", you shoot angrily, coldly. "Hyunjin heard us yesterday when he wanted to enter the room and now he doesn't even want to talk to me!"

“And why would that be my fault?”, he chuckles pretty much with sarcasm. “You agreed to have sex with me, and making you being audible is ruining your chance with that dumbass?”

"He's not a dumbass!", you contradict, pointing your finger at him. “I am the dumbass!”

“You are being totally dramatic and absurd right now. You can't deprive yourself of doing whatever you want just because you're meeting someone, (name)”, he says with a logic that you can't take in right now. "You have a life besides Hyunjin".

You can't suppress the chuckle either. You’re not making the deep analysis it requires to what Minho is saying. Which to top it off, is nothing but the truth.

"It's called self-respect, in case you don't know about it", you dumbly contradict. 

"I respect myself a lot, and that's why I won't let you blame me for helping you have a little more freedom in your boring life!"

You could laugh again, but instead, you stare at Minho with a flippant gaze that anticipates your hurtful words. “You see why I was not wrong to judge you? This is exactly how a whore who doesn't care about other people's feelings thinks".

Ouch. You really screwed it up there.

“You're even more conservative than I thought for someone that had just lost their virginity”, he points out immediately. "And totally hypocritical".

You bite your cheek to avoid biting your tongue. For the first time since you woke up, you control the urge to say something stupid. You swallow hard after the accusation and the humiliating situation you're going through, and simply let go of Minho's grip to continue walking. This time, you head towards the stairs. He looks at you, offended, unable to believe that you can't finish the conversation.

"Where are you going? I’m not the bad guy here!"

"I have to talk with Hyunjin", you say over your shoulder, not looking back.

You walk off like a coward, with no regret or consideration for what you just did. You don't realize how much your erroneous words weigh — you genuinely think that someone like Minho can't feel bad about your reproach, which on top of that is childish and hypocritical as he pointed out.

Minho watches you disappear as you did minutes ago with Hyunjin, and he feels something very different from what you felt. He feels offended, hurt by your spontaneous actions. Blaming him is clearly not the solution to your problem, but from now on he doesn't give a damn to what it is about. He's just going to focus on how to get rid of it.

You made a big, big mistake with him. You turned Minho into Hyunjin's rival.

08. THE JEALOUSY.

Of all the unnecessary things that could ruin the focus and dedication that must be put into the competition, a sex scandal was not on the list.

The coach stopped paying so much attention to you and Hyunjin warming up before practice because it seemed more important to continue with the paperwork he had in his hands ― which Minho was supposed to be helping with by sitting next to him on the floor. He's not doing it, obviously. His eyes are fixed on you two and how animated you look after the absurd argument he witnessed yesterday.

The talk you had worked effectively, he can tell.

He follows Hyunjin's every move, especially his hands that land on top of you less blatantly each time. The coach hears him grunt under his breath, realizing there is some kind of discontent from his older student.

"Stop complaining Lee, you'll get wrinkles".

“Why did you bring the junior? We could compete and win just fine without him”, Minho claims, finally vocalizing what runs through his mind.

“A minimum of three individual acts were required for registration”, the coach reports. "Don't make me repeat what you already know".

Minho snorts. Maybe he wouldn't be so bothered by Hyunjin's mere existence if it wasn't for the little detail that he's interfering between you and him. Even if the younger guy hadn't made that idiotic claim to you at breakfast he wouldn't be so irritated, he'd just continue to judge him as usual for trying to get close to you.

“Look at him, he's so messy”, he whispers as he watches Hyunjin pick up the choreography for the song. "You could have picked someone who executes the steps as neatly as (name) does, and not mess up all the body lines!"

The coach takes a look without stopping what he’s doing, just verifying that what Minho says is real. Of course, it is just an exaggeration and the chuckle he drops proves it. "Go warm up too, Lee," he orders to get rid of him once and for all.

Minho clicks his tongue at him and, possibly for the first time in his life, disobeys his superior's order. He gets up from the floor and leaves the room. He doesn't wait for the reproach that actually never comes. The coach knew that today was not going to be a productive day since the moment he sat down next to him.

You can't ignore Minho, your eyes follow his figure through the mirror as he departs radiating a dark aura. You know you're to blame for his attitude, but you also know how important the competition is and where you need to focus your attention. You keep your head on the practice until the extreme physical exhaustion makes your mind go blank, which helps you not to think about Minho. You sweat your soul out, go back to your room and take a shower to wash away all that sorrow and unnecessary stress that you’re currently carrying.

You wish you had known that all that inner therapy would be in vain before you got out of the bathroom and got ready for dinner.

With your hair already dried and wearing your pajamas you decided to choose decent clothes to leave the room, totally overlooking the plans your dance partner had. Minho spent the whole afternoon reflecting on his actions, lying on the bed in the room next door. He heard your every move, when you walked in, when you slammed the bathroom door shut, when the shower was running, and when the sound of the hair dryer became unbearable.

He can’t ignore what's happening to him. He can't let things get screwed up between the two of you before he's even gotten something real from you.

That's why your door opens with no warning, and the scare you experience is vivid. You turn around responsively, looking at Minho and the lack of expression on his face. “How the hell did you get in?”, is the first thing you ask.

Minho raises in his hand the card that you have previously seen the coach use to enter. "The coach got distracted".

You can't understand how he has such nerve to barge in like that and not look the least bit concerned. "What do you want to come into my room for?"

“I want to talk to you”, he informs, fighting the hard deviation in his eyes that have already noted that your pajamas are nothing more than a long shirt that barely covers the ridiculously short shorts.

Your demanding voice keeps him quite attentive, nonetheless. "I told you I didn't want to be seen with you".

Minho doesn't hesitate to turn the lock on the door. The very characteristic sound reaches your ears. 

"I know", he assures after your reminder. "That's why I'm locking".

He walks closer to you, and even though you would prefer not to deal with this scene. Whereas a part of you is curious to know what will happen, the other pushes your body away. You only take a small step back that is more than enough to make you collide with the bed behind you. You don't even lose your balance and Minho still grabs your arm like you might fall. You don't reject his touch, and that's already a good sign for him.

"You can't just ignore me like we don't have to compete together in a few days".

"Watch me do it”, you challenge him with your gaze. "It's called professionalism".

“Drop that shit”, he practically commands, applying the most subtle force to pull your arm and stick your hips to his. “Just tell me the truth about what you told me the other day. Are you really mad at me?"

You don’t answer. Your palm presses against his chest at the closeness, but you don't push him away. Minho insists because you give him the place to do it.

"You want me to believe that I committed the worst atrocity in the world when I did not", he expresses honestly. His eyes don't lie, he's not being sarcastic as usual. "I really tried my best to give you a nice experience", he adds.

You simply can't fall for his manipulation that easily.

“You didn't do it for me, Minho. You just wanted to have sex, you said it yourself that the only way to get it so easily is to do it without any feeling involved other than sheer need".

"That doesn't mean that I can make an effort so that my partner has a good time, don't you think?"

You do believe it, but you don't understand why something like that would come from someone like him.

As if he could read your thoughts, Minho insists on convincing you that he is not a heartless being. "I did my best, any idiot would have finished in a minute and not even bothered to keep up with you".

Flashbacks from that night run through your head. The delicacy in each movement, in each brush of his hands with your skin, the guidance and coordination with you, the sweet things that came out of his mouth to keep your trust. Minho did, in fact, put a lot of effort into being your first time — but that proves absolutely nothing.

Your hand loses firmness, it falls down with the purpose of pushing him away. "You're not making any point with that", you whisper, convinced to put an end to the interaction.

But Minho wraps his other hand around your waist. He won't let you walk away now.

“Yes I am”, he doesn’t give up. “Can't you even see what's going on? You are taking it out on me for your lack of responsibility about your feelings for Hyunjin”.

It’s inevitable for your eyes not to pay attention to his lips while he speaks. Minho has the advantage of drawing you to him without trying, and it clearly makes a difference. Your fingers trail to his forearm despite not making an attempt to release their hold on your waist. Involuntarily, you agree with him. Minho scans the scene and realizes that if you were as offended at him as you led him to believe, you would have kicked him out of the room by now.

“It's not my fault that people can see me with you if you are the one allowing me to be close”, he accuses before pointing out the obvious proof. "Look at you, made a whole scene in the dining room and now don't even try to get away".

You recognize it, it is not debatable. You look around and accept that you enjoy Minho's attention, but of course, you can't let the rest of the world know that. Well, you're pretty lucky the door's been locked because you're not showing any signs of moving anytime soon.

Minho puts his hand under your chin and lifts your head with his finger. His eye contact is so intense that it makes you feel like he can see your thoughts, and in between, how anxious you are. His lips pout toward your face and for a second you think he's going to kiss you, which gives him another reason to say what he's going to say.

"You're such a hypocrite”, he whispers above your mouth. "You enjoy what I do to you but you push me away the moment someone else sees you".

His gaze falls to the current position you’re in, and his mind flies as far away as possible. God knows Minho is dying to push you onto that stupid mattress right now and lose all sense of mercy towards you. But he can't, fuck, he can’t see you the same way he saw all his previous hook-ups. He must control himself because he knows that he is the only man that has ever put his hands on you.

You don't understand very well what his silence means, so you muster up the courage to say a word. "I'm sorry", you mutter like any broken person would.

Minho chuckles. "You do?"

You nod. "I was so frustrated by Hyunjin’s reaction, I didn't think about what I was saying", you explain, getting the most cocky smile out of his lips.

He could never turn down your apology and carry on as if nothing had happened. You're so obvious, you can't even prioritize your supposed feelings towards Hyunjin. You're just a poor, delusional girl desperate to have something from Lee Minho. Like everyone else.

It is more than predictable that he will give it to you without you asking. 

His feet shuffle forward to pull you back and lay on the bed without pushing you the way he wants to. Your arms mold to the mattress, supporting your weight on your forearms as you analyze what is happening. Your heart is beating fast and the voice in your head is getting louder, but you can't bring yourself to get up and put a brake on him. You don't want him to stop, even if you have no idea what he's going to do.

Minho just stands in front of you, getting that innocent look of yours from below. He is convinced that he has never had such a beautiful view.

"That's the only thing you care about", he says. "What you say, not what you do".

You feel the shame creeping up your body at acknowledging. You're ridiculous, but it's no surprise to you. No one in their right mind would be in your position right now. 

Minho pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt and folds them over his elbows, making himself comfortable to continue. "It’s okay, if that's how you want it to be, lie in front of everyone to save your reputation", he giggles. "Just let me show you how good you can feel without having to miss out on that fool".

You're not entirely sure what that means, but his mere speech makes you nervous. You swallow hard and unconsciously close your legs. Minho prevents you from restricting his access by stepping between them. He pushes the left one with his knee and forces you to make room for him to kneel. Your head follows his figure as he drops to the floor, and you confirm that your heart is one beat away from exploding.

Minho finds you so cute, he can't help but squeeze your thigh with his hand to reassure you. "Chill out, angel", he suggests as he feels your tense muscles. "If I put myself in this position it's so you can kick me if you want to".

He gently pushes your other leg and presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh. It makes you shiver, Minho is barely touching you and you’re already feeling overwhelmed. His lips land on your skin two, three times, pressing higher and higher until he's on edge with your pussy. He hasn't clarified what he's going to do yet, but from the way he licks his lips, you've already caught the hint.

“You two looked so cute warming up earlier today… so close to each other”, he whispers. His warm breath hitting your most sensitive spot makes you shudder. 

Minho finds it easier for his fingers to creep down to your shorts. He vaguely tugs at your waistband and manages to discard your lower garments, exposing you to him. There is no thought behind his eyes other than touching you. His fingertips are so smooth, you can tell when he rubs his digits along your folds. The minimal contact with your clit makes you whine. 

“Does he make you this sensitive too?”, he asks, picking up his talk about Hyunjin. “Do you get this wet around him too?”

His thumb presses on top of your button-shaped organ, giving it the most subtle circles. You bite your lip, realizing that his talk has turned you on more than you can admit. Even you yourself don't know the way your body works, the heat that spreads from your core with Minho's fingers wasn't there minutes ago. Your breath loses its rhythm, you exhale audibly.

“Minho―”, you whimper, struggling with your words.

He looks up and sees your beautiful face contracting. He doesn't ask you what's going on, he already knows it and that's why he knows what to do next. His warm tongue intrudes over your slit, taking a small lick. He tests your sensitivity and confirms that you're a mess when your thighs twitch. 

"You're a complete mess", he laughs under his breath. His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, eyes fixed on you with an expression that borders on empathy. “How could I leave you like this? All hot and in need of someone to make you cum so hard”.

His fingers split your folds widely, the cold air makes you gasp. He bites his lip, taking a split second to contemplate how glorious this moment is before immersing himself fully in your taste. He wraps his cushiony lips around your exposed clit and sucks fervently, ripping the most surprising moans out of your mouth. You have no control over your torso leaning forward ― Minho takes care by pressing his free hand to your abdomen to hold you in place. You literally gasp for air, bringing your hand on top of his. He smirks without holding back his supplies, forcing himself to kick the smile off his lips because the stretch doesn't allow him to suck properly. Your voice cracks as it leaves your throat, broken moans that sound as pathetic as how fast your juices leak out of your hole. His tongue collects them all, savoring your essence before detaching his mouth from your sex by licking his lower lip. His mouth and chin are drenched in you. 

"You taste as good as I imagined", he confesses out loud, making little to no effort to hide that he is enjoying it.

Minho's words make you shy, they make you feel so embarrassed, but the idea that he fantasized about satisfying you has your head spinning. Minho wants you and you're barely acknowledging it. Your body doesn't wait for you to assimilate it in order to react, nonetheless, your walls squeeze while remembering how it felt having him inside of you. He notices it, of course he does by having his face buried in your pussy. He arches an eyebrow, judging you.

“You can’t stop clenching, can’t you?”, he giggles.

You don't answer, you can't. He abandons your hand over your abdomen and resumes the touch along your folds. He surrounds your hole with not-so-subtle pressure, you whimper louder than you expected the sound to come out. He's right, you're too sensitive. You can't stop clenching.

"So desperate to be filled, damnit”, he exhales. Even Minho sighs at how needy you are.

He briefly discusses the situation and what he wants to do inside his head. It would be so timely to get rid of his tight pants right now and bury himself inside you until you scream and put on a better show than the one Hyunjin heard. But you are not worthy of that after the questioning you did. He's so sorry, oh he really is by giving you a sorrowful expression. 

“But you don't deserve my cock after hurting me like that”, he shakes his head to both sides and quickly lowers it. He can't believe those words are coming out of his mouth. "Holly fuck, listen to me, I'm denying dick to a girl".

You want to take him seriously, the pressure on your entrance is driving you crazy and not helping at all. You try to compose yourself and correct your posture but Minho gets up from his position just to hover over you. You lay your back on the mattress, looking up at him nearly terrified, feeling his fingers glide inside you. He moves closer to your face, teasing you with his provocative eyebrows.

“You see how seriously I'm taking things with you?”, he asks, slowly pumping his fingers. 

Your slick, warm walls hug his digits in an indescribable way. Not even Minho, the guy with the most unlocked adjectives for sexual practices, knows how to explain how amazing it feels. Your chest feels airtight as the pleasure builds in your core, it's so intense yet so smooth. He curls his fingers in the right way at the right rhythm, everything feels good. The moan that escapes from the back of your throat sounds like music to his ears, which takes him to abuse that spot. The sinful sound reappears, over and over again.

"Fuck, angel, you do have a weak point", he whispers, pressing his free palm to your hip. Innocent of him to believe that would stop them from bucking up in desperation when your orgasm is building so fast.

“Minho, I'm―”, you whine out, unable to control the way your walls spasm around his hand.

“What, doll? Are you feeling that good that you're close to cumming?"

His almost mocking tone makes you squirm in place until you become small. You hear Minho's laugh and close your eyes tightly, not wanting to see his face as your head is buried in the pillow. The waves of pleasure spreading through your sex make you suck in thick air. Your head spins as you unconsciously hold your breath, you can’t control any part of your body as you feel your thighs tremble. Minho fingers you as if he's playing a game where he has the best score, he does it so naturally and knows exactly what the hidden tricks are. Maybe it's the fact that he enjoys sex so much that grants him the quality of being so good ― to see your half-naked body, your swollen lips, your messy hair, your nipples peeking out from under your shirt. Everything, everything about women motivates him to be an expert at making them cum.

And you are not the exception on that ground.

Your juices soak his fingers, he rides out your orgasm until your hips try to escape his hand. He doesn't waste the opportunity and pushes your closing legs open, burying his head between them. He licks a long strike along your slit to get you clean, collecting every drop that proves how ruined you are under his hands. You cry out, feeling so overstimulated. The void his fingers left is soon after replaced by his burning tongue, and you can only take his hair between your fingers in an attempt to make him stop. You look down into his eyes, catching your lost breath.

"You're a damn freak", you manage to mumble. 

There's his chuckle again.

“Maybe”, he smiles proudly even though it wasn't a compliment. The strands of his hair fall into his eyes and it makes him look so handsome that it angers you to admit it. So you don't, you just growl. 

You press your heel into his shoulder and mercilessly push him away from you. He was expecting something like that so he's not surprised, in fact, he smiles even more widely after falling on his butt. He supports his weight on his palms and watches you stand up, waiting for your comment. Since this doesn’t arrive, he takes the word himself. 

"I was expecting a thank you at least".

“Get out of my room”, you order instead.

He fucking giggles. “What an ungrateful bitch”.

Minho gets up from the floor and shakes his hands like a worker after his shift. This time he obeys your order without prior detour. He walks backwards toward the door, keeping eye contact with you.

“Just a little reminder”, he points his finger at you. "I'll push you away too if you come back begging me because he doesn't make you feel as good as I do".

You don't take him seriously this time either, of course you don't. You sigh angrily and point to the door to emphasize that he needs to leave, which he does with the same mischievous smile that lives on his lips.

Minho walks away having had the last word, and poor you, because that is your second big mistake of the journey.

You proved him right. 

09. THE OBSESSION.

A mentally unstable, horny girl obsession. That is to say, you.

It's been two whole days since that stupid slip you had with Minho, and every hour that passes turns into torture. You've forced yourself to spend time with Hyunjin in and out of practice to forget about what happened, and yet all you think about is that moment. 

Now you're locked in your room like an idiot trying to ignore reality. You can’t avoid the memories of what happened in this very bed. The sheets under you were changed every morning and you can still smell Minho's scent on them. You can see yourself begging him to give you more. You went from being a virgin denied from any interaction with a man to only think about sex overnight. Or rather, think about sleeping with Minho.

The phone in your hand is of no use for distraction, so you toss it to your side. The darkness of the room is a whole canvas to recreate those scenes in your mind. This exact scene is identical to the one Minho had after having you the first time, and you don't even know it.

The roles have been reversed, and now you are the one facing the battle of neediness.

Just as you collapsed on the mattress an hour ago, you got up from it and left the room in search of the person who doesn’t leave your mind. You don't even try to do it casually and sneakily, which is a terrible sign that you've picked up the habits of that very son of a bitch you're looking for.

You just had to walk out the window into the backyard to see him in the hot tub like most nights, and like the one where it all started. You stopped in your tracks contemplating if you should interrupt him or if you should wait for him to come out ― before you could make a decision he looked in your direction and waved his hand inviting you to join him. You thought about it quickly, and shook your head in denial. Instead, you pointed behind for him to come out and follow you.

Minho didn't raise any suspicions, in fact, he assumed you just wanted to talk. How could he not give you a talk? He’s such a gentleman that gives up his rest in the hot water for you. He took the towel and wiped away the excess water, shook out his hair so the drops wouldn't fall, and hung it around his neck before walking through the glass door to follow you. You turned around without saying a word, dragging him into the laundry room. 

Closing the door and forcing him to sit down is how you ended up in this situation, ready to show that you've lost all sense of sanity over a man.

Minho isn't afraid of almost anything when it comes to women, not even when you just locked him up, but he has to admit he's a bit disoriented. He sits on the small surface and leans back against the wall, watching you. You lean over the door, and stare at him in silence. Eye contact takes away the courage you mustered up for this confrontation, yet there is something within you that keeps you grounded. Probably, the thrill that goes up your body just thinking about giving back to Minho what he gave to you.

Your eyes roam over his bare skin, how ridiculously short his swimming shorts seem now that he's sitting down, the way his damp hair falls across his forehead, and the undried drops on his collarbones.

Minho blinks after a few dense seconds, suspecting that you don't have something to say as he thought. "You're not going to talk?"

His voice makes you look him in the eye again. "I don’t want to talk".

“And what did you bring me here for?”

Your chest swells as you inhale, sucking in air as an excuse to think about how to formulate your response. How difficult it becomes to be honest when your honesty is vulgar to hear. 'I want to fuck you to show that I can give you what you give me', is what should come out of your mouth.

“I need more”, is what actually rolls off your tongue.

Minho is confused, you can tell.

“You need more?”, he wonders, pulling the towel around his neck to remove it. He studies your expressions in search of an implicit explanation, but he doesn’t find it. He doesn't understand what you mean. “And what is more, exactly?”

“More”, you repeat.

You let go of the door latch, approaching with slow steps. Stealthy ones.

"I need more of whatever the fuck is going on between us, more of you".

He chuckles. That is not something he hears everyday. "You know I can't trust you, do you?"

You nod. You know very well that you have been very changeable, nearly bipolar with him, and that’s why you know how to prove that you are not lying. With your eyes fixed on his, you cautiously drop to your knees. Minho clearly won't heel kick you like you did, but you still have to be careful not to make a false move. His expression drops to a serious one. His Adam's apple bobs, he can't hide that your actions have taken him by surprise. With the lightest touch of your fingers on his knees, your hands progressively climb up his thighs. Minho's skin bristles. His gaze desists from eye contact and instead follows your hands. They are so, so close to his cock that it's reacting to your touch. He's just a man at the end of the day.

"I don't blame you for not believing a word I say", you admit, even compassionately. "But I need more".

Your fingers drift to his crotch, circle the bulge that's formed in his shorts. Minho doesn't speak, he doesn't blink. Your hand presses down on his hardening dick, his mind begins to soar. Your gaze meets his at just the right moment.

"I need to understand why I can't stop thinking about doing this", you say, pulling on the band to lower it as necessary.

The cold air hits his length, the erection takes place instantly. Your fingers surround it, your thumb circles over his head. He hisses, barely wrapping his head around the fact that you want him. Ironic, isn't it?

Aware that his voice will crack if he speaks loudly, he lowers it to a whisper. "You can't stop thinking about giving me head?"

His question makes you smirk, it encourages you to slide your hand toward his base. They are so cold and make him so sensitive. Your tongue takes a little lick, making him press the towel into his hand hardly. Minho groans, the sound is as pleasant as the next words that reach your ears.

"You're nasty girl", he mumbles.

And as if you already had it assimilated, you don't question it. You became, in fact, a pretty nasty person because of him. And it's only in that moment that you get it ― the reason you keep going after Minho is because you're obsessed with feeling filthy, badass. You're obsessed with gaslighting yourself into thinking you're not that boring virgin anymore.

Minho moans audibly, your strokes take a rhythm once you hear him. Despite never having done this before, his sounds give you the confidence to lean in and lock your lips around his length. To be fair, he completely forgot that you were inexperienced from the moment he saw your mouth water and lick your lips in front of his dick. And there you are, making him feel as good as if you did this daily. Your cheeks are so warm, so moist. Minho can't help but thrust his hips into your mouth, accidentally causing you to choke as his tip hits your throat. You laugh, sliding your lips out of him to collect the saliva. Still, a thread hangs from your chin and joins your shy smile that has him sighing.

"I'm sorry―", he apologizes for the offhandedness. He tosses the towel to the floor to free his hand and bring it to your head, stroking your hair to assert his regret. "I’m sorry, keep going!"

You follow immediately, making good use of your spit that lubricates him to the last inch. Your fingers take hold of the base, focusing your suction on his head. The whines you get are instantaneous, and you can tell he's not shy about being vocal. You can't figure out how, but hearing him makes the heat arise between your legs. You bob your head briskly, but with determination. Minho can only think about that night he felt so perverted touching himself thinking about you, and now he realizes that he wasn't so wrong. You're just as much of a freak as him.

You squeeze his base between your fingers, and automatically make him screech. “Agh, no―, uh, don't do that―, I'm gonna cum right now if you do that”, he warns.

But his warning doesn't sound like a threat to you. Your puppy eyes staring right at him are a tricky weapon. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No―”, he sounds desperate. He takes your hair in his hands, holding it out of the way. "Holy fuck, just, don't stop".

And it's the way he practically groans the words as he drags them out of his mouth that makes you obey him. You wrap your cheeks around his member and behave like a fucking porn star. Sucking, licking, stroking, spitting, doing all kinds of wonders that have Minho rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He looks ethereal this way. You don't know if it's the poor light coming in from the window at night, or the fact that he is under your absolute control, but you swear your heart is beating faster than any other time. Minho is pretty, and now you can confirm it without anger blasting inside you.

You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, and that's when you know he's totally lost. His moans turn to growls, his voice cracks. Your hand squeezes one of his thighs, but that doesn't stop him from expanding both of them as his hips jerk forward. His orgasm surprises even him, he cums faster than he expected. He shivers in your hold, can't even put the words in order to warn you of his ejaculation. You don't need one, the shots of his hot cum staining your fingers is enough. He's so messy with it even though he can't control it, his substance is everywhere. Your hands, his shorts, your lips, his abdomen. The expression of pure bliss on his face is so majestic that it overshadows the whole disaster he made.

Minho breathes heavily, uncoordinatedly, and you don't know if he's catching his breath to speak or to keep his sanity. To no one's surprise, he fails on the second option. 

He reaches out his arm to take yours, and it's not as delicate as you'd expect. He pulls on it to make you stand up, and finally pushes you on top of him. Minho gives no fucks how sensitive he is for having just cum, he willingly makes you straddle his suffocated cock. You hold on to his shoulders, unprepared, but feeling the tingling between your legs intensify. The friction makes your panties get wet, and it makes him get hard again.

You sigh, lowering your head only to reach Minho's lips and capture them in a kiss. He reciprocates rushedly, hungry for your mouth that provides him with his own taste. His hands push your hips down on his, he seeks to turn you on until you can't take it anymore and beg him to fuck you.

But jokes on him, you are one step ahead this time.

You bite his bottom lip, pulling on it to break the kiss. Minho doesn't want to stop kissing you and it shows when a sharp complaint scratches his throat when you move away. You laugh, running your thumb over the bite. Your fingers climb up his face to wrap around his head and tangle in his hair. He’s still trying to catch his breath, and feeling the chill of your touch on the back of his neck makes it difficult for him. He feels dizzy, drunk on you. It will hurt his ego too much to admit that he is not in control, but that is already a problem for the Minho of the future.

“Do something, (name), please”.

You smile, loving how his voice sounds when he begs. “Should I? You look so cute like this, all desperate”.

As expected, even in this pathetic position, Minho doesn't pass it by. "Don't you ever call me cute again".

"I'll think about it while you tell me what you want me to do".

He squeezes your sides, losing his coolness. His fingers pull the band of your shorts so that you take the signal and get rid of them. You get up only for those seconds that it takes to remove the garment and Minho feels that he will die with your absence. He needs you close, he needs to feel you grinding on him. That's why when he grabs your arm again to pull you closer, he simultaneously grabs his cock and aligns it with your entrance as you sit down. You sink down on him so slowly, the stretch makes you gasp. Minho growls as well, he’s dejected. He has never gone beyond ejaculation, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. He wants to abuse his limits with you.

It’s still hard to adjust to the feeling of being full that you are not so familiar with, you can’t help but clench around him with the intrusion. You rest your forehead against his, moving the long strands of his dark hair. Now, you pull these as if the pain is non-existent for the man below you. Minho pushes his hips up at feeling your walls squeezing him, his tip hits so deep inside you that it has you crying out. His palms circle your ass, digging his fingers into your flesh as if he could tear you apart.

You finally start to feel the burning dying, and you gulp thickly before demanding the answer to your question. "You didn't answer me, Minho", you remind him. “What do you want me to do?” 

He throws his head back, breathing heavily. He looks down at you, dragging your hips so you can ride him as if your life depends on it.

“Just fuck me stupid, angel”, he breathes out. “Literally―, fuck me until I can’t take it anymore”.

10. THE HYPOCRISY.

It was predictable, only that everyone involved in the matter decided to pretend that it wasn't. Or at least ignore it until the road took another course.

The competition is finally tomorrow. These two weeks have felt eternal, but they have not come to an end. Not even to its climax. The last practice was aimed at each individual act being polished to unfold flawlessly. Minho, like the perfectionist that he is, stayed in the practice room after the coach gave you the go-ahead to go to sleep. It wasn't too late at night yet, so he took advantage of the time unlike you and Hyunjin ― who found out about Minho's decision and took it as his step forward. Clearly, the younger boy hasn't been aware of everything that has been going on, and that's why he invited you to meet him one last time before heading straight to bed. The message coming into your phone changed your plans in the blink of an eye. With slippers and a washed bare face, you knocked on his door. 

The fact that you didn't worry about how you looked should already have been your first warning. The second one was that you should have entered his room excited, eager, feeling butterflies in your stomach to be alone with Hyunjin, but it wasn't like that. You went like you had something pending, like you were doing this to pay off a debt to yourself.

It started with a friendly chat, sitting on the bed, the phone being picked up to ask for room service, one or two drinks to diffuse the tension, and finally the closeness between both bodies. Everything was perfect, but not for you. Only for the poor boy who has wanted this moment from day one.

You don’t know how you reached this moment, Hyunjin is now supporting his weight on his forearm while lying on top of you. His free hand cups your waist, drawing your chest to his since you're too far away for his liking. His lips merge with yours, they melt with your warm tongue. You want to enjoy it, you really want to feel like this is the big step with him, but you just don't feel anything.

His lips leave yours to trail to your jaw, press below your ear, down to your neck, but they stop before moving further down. Rather, you stop them. The impulse leads your hand towards Hyunjin's chest, and suddenly presses it. You push him away gently, you’re so embarrassed that you can't even look him in the eye.

Hyunjin not only worries about your reaction, but he’s so confused by your silence after moving him that he resorts to asking about it himself.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?", he hesitates in a whisper. He sounds terrified. Everything was flowing so smoothly, he doesn't know where he screwed it up.

"No, of course not", you reply. You close your eyes to take courage, and raise your head. You meet Hyunjin's gaze and feel so sorry for ruining this that you can't help but hold his face in your hands as if your next words will break him. "You are not the problem".

The disappointment on his face is more than evident. You don't have to explain further for Hyunjin to know what is going on. Exactly what he feared that would happen, happened. He sighs, assuming he made his move too late. 

"You're dating Minho, aren't you?"

The inspection he does with his eyes is overwhelming to you. He’s trying to take all the hints that he missed to put the puzzle together. It was right in front of his eyes and he couldn't see it. He still doesn't, so he waits for your answer.

"No, and that's even worse", you whisper now. Your hands clenched into fists, totally frustrated with this situation straight out of a movie. "We're not dating at all".

Hyunjin is quick in reading the room. He may have been innocent in thinking he had a chance, but if there's anything he's not, it’s stupid. He can see what’s in front of him.

With a sad expression, he says out loud what you have not yet accepted yourself. "But you feel something for him".

You don't know what you're supposed to say, but you just don't say a thing. You don't deny it, you don't contradict it, you don't question it. And unfortunately, that is more than enough for Hyunjin to understand that nothing will happen between you two tonight. Not tonight, and probably never.

Of course you feel something for Minho, you are so ridiculously attracted to him. You are a sucker for the way he makes you feel that you can’t enjoy intimacy with other boys.

Hyunjin sighs again, retracting his movements and getting up from his position. He takes your hand to help you sit on the mattress, collapsing next to you to solve the problem like two adults. Talking.

"I mean, it's not like I didn't see it coming", he admits. "But I still wanted to try making a move on you".

"And I apologize for that".

“You do?”

“I… made you believe something could happen between us. It was really hypocritical of me to give you high hopes when I didn't even know what I was doing”.

He just shrugs.

"It's okay. You don't have to take all the blame on yourself, I should have caught the hint when I saw him interested in you".

You rub your arm, a little nervous with the fact that you have to agree with him. Hyunjin shows no signs of anger or rejection, but you still feel bad about the way you came to this end. Both look around, unable to sustain eye contact, wondering what to do next.

“He’s older… and something like a fuckboy that always gets his way”, he mumbles. “And now.. he made this awkward…”

“Yeah…”, you whisper, thinking of a way to change it. When you do, you snap your fingers as if a lightbulb lit up. "We can still talk about tomorrow's competition", you suggest. "Right?"

Hyunjin smiles sweetly. "Of course we can".

With a small laugh, he makes himself comfortable on the mattress, giving you room to do the same. He checks his watch to make sure the service hour isn't over, and he shoots you a look before diving into the whisper. “Do you want to order something else? It’s on me for the bad moment”.

A chuckle leaves your lips. 

“Sure”, you smile, extending your hand to the phone. “But let's not get drunk. We don't want to wake up with a hangover".

And honestly, you should have followed your own advice.

11. THE CONSEQUENCES OF JEALOUSY.

The night should have been over as soon as you and Hyunjin cleared things up. You should have gone to sleep in your room, he should have gone to bed and rested well, and Minho should have been back before dawn. But none of the three things happened.

Minho knew from the moment he decided to stay after practice that he would sleep in his coach's room, which allowed you and Hyunjin the freedom to stay up uninterrupted. The extra booze added to the night was a good idea for the first few drinks, but not exactly the smartest. Not even you remembered your lousy resistance to soju until, after God knows how many bottles, you fell asleep on Hyunjin's shoulder. He really hadn't planned on disturbing your sleep, but seeing how much you consumed under his company, he felt guilty. He took on the responsibility of convincing you to take a shower, and he provided you with clean, comfortable clothing so you'd get plenty of sleep and rest for the big day.

As soon as the sunlight hit your face in the morning, you knew the big day had turned into shit.

You woke up without seeing Hyunjin nearby and with an aspirin next to a glass of water on the bedside table. You took it and headed to your room as soon as you realized where you were. If only you had known that this little action would trigger a disaster, you would have locked yourself until the night.

You opened the door and walked no more than five steps. Enough to run into Minho, who was just returning to his room like you. His eyes collide with your figure coming out of that peculiar place, and wearing that particular shirt that he already knows from having seen his roommate wear it. It only takes that split second after you evade him to connect the wires inside his head. You walked out of Hyunjin's room wearing one of his shirts and looking like you were gutted from last night. 

What the fuck? 

He turns around, grabbing your arm before you walk into your room. The light that hits your face as you spin punctures your head, your eyes hurt to even look Minho in the face.

However, his harsh voice brings your sight back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It is difficult for you to associate the question, you don’t understand what’s happening.

“What?”

"Have you spent the night with Hyunjin?"

“Yes”, you answer naively, knowing that you haven't done anything more than sleeping. But of course, Minho is interpreting the opposite. “Why?”, you gasp, totally disoriented.

“Why?”, he chuckles, offended. “Two days ago you were with me and now you are with him as if it had meant nothing?”

“You insisted that I had to learn how to be free with my sexual life”, you remind him of his educational sermon. "I had to understand what it was I wanted with him".

For you it’s obvious, it’s consistent. For Minho, it’s a nightmare.

"I did, but it wasn't for you to go and sleep with Hyunjin the next day!" 

You can hear the anger in his voice. You can hear the frustration. Minho believed that he had already won this game, but he didn't count on the fact that you didn't set the guidelines in the first place. You open your eyes wide, battling the light and the excruciating migraine that isn't helped by Minho's booming voice hurting your sensitive eardrums. His expression doesn't look good. You tug on your arm to loosen his grip, and subtly move away from him. Your shoulders shrug, downplaying what is insignificant to you.

“Why do you care so much?”, you ask, considering that your meeting with Hyunjin was silly and harmless. "Are you jealous now?"

The word twists Minho's insides. He can't be jealous of something that doesn't belong to him, but that's precisely what makes him angry. You are not his.

"No, I'm not jealous", he lies blatantly. "I'm trying to understand what your intentions are but you won't let me because you act like a slut!"

Yes, he could have chosen a different word. And yes, he didn't.

“A slut?”, you repeat, surprised rather than offended. "I'm doing exactly what you taught me to do".

"This is not what I was referring to, (name)".

“And what was it then?”, you criticize, taking a step closer to him. "Didn't you teach me to live your free and uncompromising lifestyle to enjoy it without depending on a fool?"

“Yes, but I'm not the fool here! It's supposed to be Hyunjin!”

You blink repeatedly, silently. You can’t understand how that reasoning is coming from someone as astute as him. He sounds dumb.

"I got it, now that I am doing with you what you do with all the women on the planet, you disagree".

"It’s not like that".

"No, seriously. I get it,” you raise your hand, stopping him from getting close to you. "You're a fucking possessive asshole like everyone said you are".

And even though your tone is sarcastic, it hurts Minho like the first time you called him out. He tries to order the events and link everything that has brought you to this moment, and yet he doesn't understand how that night in the laundry room turned into this. He never thought that not understanding what he felt for you would translate into those words that escaped from your mouth without the slightest remorse.

Fucking-possessive-asshole. You just missed adding womanizer.

Minho gulps, his expression becomes serious. Yours, reflects utter disappointment. You can't believe he actually attacked you like that, giving you no space to explain what happened. And even worse, you can't believe that he doesn't even try to remedy it and gives up instantly.

His body language changes in an abrupt manner. His shoulders drop, his hands can't decide what gesture to make to speak. He just avoids your gaze. 

"I’m sorry, you're right”, he sighs, feeling completely humiliated. "You're absolutely right".

He throws down his hand in the air like a flag marking the end of a battle, and turns around without further ado. He walks into his room and slams the door shut with a loud thud that startles you. You stand motionless, staring at the door with the phantom trail of Minho's figure that just disappeared. You are so confused, so lost. You don't understand how Minho jumped to the conclusion that you slept with Hyunjin nor why you didn't deny it to prevent this. But you feel so hurt by his reaction, especially since it was the product of a mistaken belief. You wonder what would have happened if you had actually taken the freedom of sleeping with Hyunjin to fulfill your whim.

The stress that such a discussion adds to you is the last thing you need. Your stomach pays the consequences, your gut twists and it doesn't help at all with the discomfort that the hangover gifted you when you woke up. As soon as you take a step in the direction of your room, you already feel that your entire nervous system is failing. The competition is a few hours away, and just thinking about it adds anxiety to the list of unpleasant emotions.

In these conditions you will make a fool of yourself. 

The option of sleeping seduces you enough to rest until you have to get ready, which doesn’t mean it will be effective enough. The nap works to avoid reality for a couple of hours and get a little more sleep, but when you wake up from it, the effects of the hangover worsen.

It all happens in fast motion from the second you get in the van to travel to the competition venue. Your head doesn’t stop hurting and spinning. Minho's voice and Hyunjin's image follow you along with the staff as you pass from one corridor to another. You feel nausea clouding your vision from the first to the last moment. The lights hurt your sensitive eyes. Your body aches just from standing on the stage. Your hands sweat before the music track even starts playing, your head is pounding so hard you can swear your brain is about to explode. You don't remember how to start, if it wasn't for muscle memory your body wouldn't have started executing the choreography on its own. Everything is automatic, you have no awareness of what is really happening or what is at stake. At least not until your gaze lands on the side of the stage, and your eyes meet those of your peers. Not just Hyunjin, who you haven't seen since yesterday, but Minho. It’s at that moment that you remember that you have a number with him.

You manage to reach your final pose, hearing the seconds of silence that postpone the end of the song and anticipate the applause and response from the audience. It takes you a few seconds to react, and when you do it is abrupt and hasty. You realize you have to change your wardrobe and instantly head offstage without looking at or greeting anyone. Minho and Hyunjin watch you sneak past the staff, then look at each other. Exchanging that look, both can decipher that something is not right. Just one look, exactly what it took you to mess everything up.

Hyunjin followed with his number, and even though Minho was free to talk to you before you had to perform together, he didn't. Maybe if he had, he could have prevented the disaster. Perhaps if he apologized, he could have saved the presentation. If only he hadn't waited until you were both positioned onstage to say something, it might have relieved some of your stress.

“(Name)”, you hear the whisper in your ear before the song starts. "We need to talk after this".

You don't even have time to answer once the track coming out of the speakers forces you to move. Minho's request bounces off the walls of your head, echoing non-stop. It resonates so loud that it overshadows the music. It adds to the pain and doesn't allow you to focus the way you need to. You can't think clearly. Your steps begin to fail. Your sense of coordination is nil. Your eyes meet Minho's as you make that spin that looked defenseless two weeks ago, and now is all it takes for your body to give up. Not only do you trip and fall before Minho can grab you, but the overwhelming feeling of making a fool of yourself in front of so many people erupts the urge to vomit. You get up as fast as you can and with the greatest embarrassment spreading through your veins, you flee the stage.

Everything you have been working and striving for months, gets thrown away in just one mistake. The only reason you're in this city, this venue, has completely lost its meaning. You don't even think about your dance partner, your coach, your academy. The humiliation turns you selfish. 

In just minutes, everything becomes insignificant. It went from being the most important night of your year to being the most pathetic one. Your forehead is now pressed on the toilet, you still haven't made the effort to wash your mouth after vomiting your stress out. You’ve already lost track of how long you've been there, you’re just thinking about how you will go back to your city and never talk to anyone else from the academy again. Despite being dehydrated you still have water in your body to cry and let all the frustration out.

This is definitely not right, and it gets even worse when you hear footsteps approaching. You try to contain your sounds so as not to draw attention, but you don't succeed. The person on the other end literally sits on the floor to hear you.

“(Name)?”, asks that all-too-familiar voice.

As if to top it off, Minho is now behind the door. You press your palm to your mouth to become silent but it's just to no avail. Minho has already talked to the security people and he knows that you locked yourself in that bathroom. He sighs, hating to interrupt you in such vulnerability, he feels compelled to do so.

“(Name), I know you're there. I can hear you sobbing".

His voice is a whisper and you can still hear it because of how quiet the environment has become. 

"Go away, Minho", you demand in a brittle voice. "I’m so embarrassed".

“I don’t care, I told you we should talk. Let's talk".

"I don't want to talk, I want to go home and get buried 8 feet under the ground!"

Minho gets into a comfortable position, leaning his back against the door to settle into place. He won't leave until he gets to talk to you.

"Forget the competition, that's not what I want to talk about".

“Nothing is more important than the competition right now!”, you express angrily, banging your hand on the toilet. "This wouldn't even have happened if I got into college like my mom demanded and didn't waste my time on this dancing stupidity!"

You can't see him ducking his head in sorrow, but you can hear him sigh. He sounds stressed, and is uncooperative with the situation.

"Don't say that, (name)".

“How do you want me not to say it? I wasn't able to take it seriously because of an immature affair!"

He doesn't talk this time, he can sense that you have things to add by the way you take a deep breath to continue talking. Of course he doesn't expect to hear such cruel things.

"I don't even want to continue dancing, you took away my desire to do what I enjoy the most by putting your dick in this!"

“I'm sorry,” he says in a low, embarrassed voice. His head flops against the door, he feels so sorry that it got to this point that it clearly wasn't part of his plan. "I really do".

"You don't, you just feel guilty that I ended up in this deplorable state".

Minho clicks his tongue. He doesn't like words put in his mouth. "Of course I feel guilty, it wasn’t my intention to go this far!"

"And what the hell was your intention then?"

“You hurt my feelings, (name)”, he avows. His words tangle on his tongue, the honesty feels like a trammel. "I acted cold and wanted to find a way to get back to you to get your attention but it all went to shit".

You look back in the direction of the door. You feel so offended.

“Did I hurt you? You played with my feelings and my career, and the one who gets hurt is you?”

"Well I admit I was just playing at first, I didn't think you would care too much and it would escalate to this!"

“Why wouldn't I care about it?”, you finally snap.

You get up from your position but do nothing more than sit by the door so that your voice is clearer to expose your naive and wounded heart. Minho hears your movements and fears of whatever he will hear next.

“Please”, in the most pathetic voice, you beg. “Just stop for a moment to think that for you it was one more time, but for me it was my first time. I never had the opportunities or the people to feel comfortable and I had finally gotten to be free with you”.

Minho feels the guilt digging into his chest and making a hole. Now that you put it that way, it sounds terrible. Unfortunately for him, you're not done yet.

“You did exactly what I told you I didn't like you to do. You took advantage of my inexperience with all this stupid game of freedom and then accused me of behaving like a slut!”

"That's not true, don't twist everything up".

“You are the one who twists everything and ruins it all!”

Your sobs come back, Minho can only close his eyes tight. That painful feeling in his stomach when he hears you cry is so foreign to him. He didn't want this to turn into an argument, but there just doesn't seem to be a point. At least, not until you drop the big confession.

You hide your face in your hands, blurting out what crosses your mind in such a vulnerable state. “Look what you’ve done for thinking I slept with Hyunjin”, you babble.

Minho suddenly frowns. He heard perfectly what you said, and that's why the confusion whips him. He turns his head as you have been doing, trying to elicit an explanation from you with telepathy. Now, cautiously pressing his hands to the ground as if your voice might pierce the door, he asks the crucial question.

"What are you talking about?"

And you answer, it’s a minor detail for you. "I didn't sleep with Hyunjin yesterday, Minho".

"What?!"

"You didn't even give me a chance to explain it!"

Minho feels despair. His eyes go everywhere, the hole in his chest gets deeper. A mix of uncertainty and anxiety washes over him at not knowing how badly he screwed it up.

“Explain it to me now!”, he demands.

You drag your hands out of your face so that the words are heard clearly and not distorted.

"We just kissed and I realized that he wasn't the one I wanted to be with".

"You can't be serious right now", he growls, banging his head against the door.

“I am, dammit! We cleared things during the night and decided to have a drink to get through the awkward moment. That was it''.

"I don't get it", he exhales. “What about his shirt? Why did you sleep in our room if you quickly put an end to everything?”

“I got drunk thinking about you and took a shower in your room so I could go to sleep sober, Hyunjin only lent me his clothes and let me sleep there so I could be safe!”

The explanation shakes him no more strongly than the realization. And no more than the last words he hears coming from the other side of the door before you break down in tears again.

"But of course you reacted like an idiot by interpreting the first thing you saw and ruined everything between us!"

Your sobs push him into silence. His thoughts inside his head turn so loud. He realizes how far he is from having done the right thing. It was all his fault from the beginning to the very end.

Minho has really screwed everything up.

12. THE REALIZATION.

Going back on your own and never letting people around you know about you again sounded like a good idea yesterday. Today, when you have no other transportation than the van you're sitting in, it doesn't sound as good anymore. The weather seemed to adapt to your sentimental situation, the rain now soaks the windows gloomily from the outside. You watch through it as you wait for the driver to arrive. There's literally two hours left for him to do so, but there's no other place in the entire city where you can hide. You want to be totally isolated and away from everything.

You need to think about what you will do when you get home. You need to relax, reflect, and act maturely after such immaturity.

Your earphones help you filter out negative thoughts with some music. Despite not paying full attention to your surroundings because of this, you still notice with no difficulty when someone opens the door and climbs in next to you. You remove one of the ear pieces, knowing exactly who it is without even seeing his face. There is no one else that needs to have a talk with you. Now that he raises his head and looks at you through his dripping hoodie, you feel the same discomfort as yesterday. You blink silently, waiting for him to say something. He simply doesn’t.

"I want to be alone".

"I can't leave you alone after what happened”, contradicts Minho. His words mix with the lyrics of the song in your left ear. "We're not done talking".

"I already told you everything I had to tell you".

"But I didn’t", he insists. “Please, (name). We can't go home and pretend nothing happened".

You take the remaining earphone and rip it off its cord, the music finally disappearing. The expression on Minho's face is serious.

“Isn't that what you asked me to do the first time we kissed? Don't get tangled up, don't worry about anything other than to have fun for a while”.

"This was more than just a little while, don't you think?"

You stay silent again. You can't read the emotions on his face even though your eyes scan each of his features, unlike Minho who only focuses on your glassy eyes. He reaches out his hand boldly towards your face, feeling the urge to wipe away the treacherous tear that fell down your cheek. He doesn't want to see you cry.

“Why do you even insist?”, you mumble. "I ruined the competition for both of us and made things awkward for everyone".

“Because we'll have a hundred more of those competitions to screw up. But I only have one chance to apologize to you".

You sigh at how dramatic it all feels. You brush away Minho's hand, lowering your head in embarrassment. Minho knows that it’s time to confront what happened before the stupid competition that is now a thing of the past.

“You were absolutely right about what you said”, he assures.

You bit on your bottom lip to prevent it from pursuing into a pout. You don’t even care about being right, not now.

“About you being a fucking possessive asshole?”

Minho chuckles with the way you say it. “Yeah”, he agrees. "But also that I didn’t stop to think that all this was not a game for you".

The intrigue about what you hear makes you raise your head to observe him. Your hair gets in the way, and of course he's the one brushing it out with his fingers. He tucks it behind your ear, staring at you. 

"I should have been more responsible because it was important to you", he states. 

"Forget it already. It becomes more humiliating if you make a big deal out of it”.

“I can't forget about it. And less if everything went to hell because I accused you of something that was not true”.

Minho places the hand you pushed away on your leg. He wants to test the waters and make sure there's still something inside of you that wants him close. Something that will allow him to pick up where you’ve left and move forward. You've already stopped him before, this doesn't seem to be the case. And that's enough for him.

"Please let me make it up to you".

Despite your wordlessly consenting, you callously deny. 

“You can't”.

“Why not?”, he questions remaining calm. He’s obviously disappointed.

"Because there is nothing you can say that can make up for the way you hurt me".

Minho imitates the pout in a much more exaggerated way so that you feel sorry for him. The embarrassed expression on your face seems to reflect that you find it funny instead.

He nods his head to take your words in, and as expected, he contradicts them. "Okay, then let me fix it with actions".

You knew at that moment what was going to happen, and yet it didn't cross your mind that it was a terrible idea. Minho brings his free hand up to your chin, lifting your head to level it with his. Your eyes penetrate through his before falling to his lips that are quite obvious with his intentions. He gives you a second for you to move away, to push him, to curse him, but you don't. And he kisses you.

You know how much of a fool you are. You're such an idiot. You're the biggest, dumbest chick. But certainly, you're still the innocent girl that likes him.

Minho deepens the kiss, sliding his hand up to your jaw so he can get closer and alternate the movement of his lips. It feels relieving after such a stressful experience, but you’re holding onto that stress that you can't reciprocate properly and Minho notices it. He pulls away and opens his eyes, keeping them in your mouth.

"You're not kissing me back", he exposes. His hand takes yours, bringing it to his shoulder in hopes of encouraging you. "Touch me, feel how my body gets when I kiss you again".

You feel weak. It’s not your integrity that makes you hesitate to continue. Neither is your dignity, if it wasn’t clear enough. You lower your head, and slip out of his grasp. "This is not okay".

"Why not? Some things are solved this way, (name)”.

You close your eyes, and sigh in anticipation of your concern. You know you'll sound silly. "No, I mean, someone could walk by and see us.

.Minho doesn't want to laugh in this situation, but he chuckles. You sound so cute worrying about something so small. "The windows are tinted", he informs the small but obvious detail.

Before you can even complain, Minho grabs your phone and earphones from your lap. He tosses them aside, casually, and leans into your side so he can wrap his arm around your waist. You naturally slide into the seat, looking up at him while he makes you lean under his figure. You have no doubt that the reason everything comes out smoothly is because Minho is the one in control now.

"No one will see us even though I'm dying for them to do it", he whispers to pick up the conversation.

His lips sneak up to your neck so stealthily that you only notice when you feel them on your skin. Your eyes close, the wet feeling of his mouth on your most sensitive spot bewitches you. Minho can tell you’re relaxing, so he takes advantage of that to get close to your ear.

"No one will see us together even though you don't want anyone to associate you with me ever".

Your answer gets stuck on your tongue as you feel the brush of his teeth on your earlobe, coldly calculated after spitting out the accusation. He knows how to manipulate words so well that he inevitably has you doing what he wants. Denying them.

“I'm not as sure about that as I used to be”, you stammer, melting in his grasp.

Minho smirks, cockily. He lifts his head and stares at you, admiring how pretty you look under him. His teeth land on his lower lip to drag it, an involuntary gesture after seeing you being the best girl for him. You breathe heavily with his gaze on you, you feel nervous like every single time.

“I’ll believe you only because you look so honest and innocent right now”, he mumbles as if he had read your thoughts. His free hand caresses your side, enjoying the contact he thought he lost. "You look so pure just like when I first kissed you".

The word tingles inside you. Minho wastes no time and presses his lips to your neck again, strays down your throat and over your chest. You know he loves to take everything as if it belonged to him, and that's what he does by squeezing your hips between his wide hands. He inhales, feeling like it's been too many hours without you to stay sane. He feels so foolish to have believed you could give what is his to someone else.He licks his lips and slides his warm fingers under your shirt to touch your bare skin. 

"I really corrupted you, didn't I?", he smirks, so proud of his acts. “I was your first time, your second one, your third one…”

His hands switch paths and move down to your legs, taking hold of your thighs only to press them against his waist. Your legs tangle as if they were meant to be glued together. Feeling the friction with your cunt makes him hiss. Every little movement reminds Minho of how much he has achieved.

“Shit, angel, I ruined you”.

Yes, the only answer to that is yes. But the one that comes out of your mouth is a whimper as you feel his knee rub between your legs. Minho is relieved to hear that sweet sound again. He feels your hesitant hand not knowing where to grab him and decides to take it. He carries it over your head and holds you in place with the slightest of force. He pecks your lips gently, keeping your attention on him. You feel that the air inside the vehicle has become so hot. Your heart beats fast, it speeds up when Minho intertwines his fingers with yours. He knows that look in your eyes so well.

"Now I understand why you let me go so far", he says out loud. “Because you ended up entangled. You like me, you love when I give you all my attention”.

You would like to defend yourself, but you can't. You feel short of breath, you feel that whatever comes out of your mouth will be incoherent in trying to deny the truth. Minho holds your jaw in his hand, he forces you to stare at him as he exposes you.

“You heard so many things about me with other girls and were delighted to know that you became my favorite one. Didn’t you?"

Your eyebrows pucker. You're so ashamed to admit it, yet you give him the faintest nod. He denies with his head, hissing in regret. His gaze travels down your body, checking out everything he has available to devour. The hand on your jaw follows the path his eyes took, his index finger traces the line of your lower stomach and hooks into the band of your jeans. 

“I acted like a jerk even though I had you all to myself… You really let me be the first to teach you how to enjoy all this, and I was an ingrate".

His fingers intrude between your jeans and underwear, pressing into your covered folds. The warm, wet feeling doesn't take Minho by surprise, he knows you’re easy to arouse. It's almost like he's the only person in your entire life who's done it.

“This is what my voice alone does to you”, he laughs after recognizing it, burying his face in your neck. His fingers climb higher so he can focus on your clit, slowly circling it. “You are so ready to take me at any moment”.

His words make you squirm under him. He's right, your body is ready for him. Your hands cling to his bicep, channeling your desperation as you feel his fingers press into your hole.

“I need you”, you whine.

“I know you do, doll”, he whispers to keep his voice minimal. He brushes his nose against your neck, breathing warmly under your ear. "I'll give you anything you ask for if you promise me you'll be mine back home".

Oh, you are a lost case.

“Lee Minho, you fucking bastard”, you curse in the hottest way the named bastard has ever heard. "You would have to be an idiot not to realize that I am already all yours".

His deep, childish laugh sends chills all over your spine. Minho nods, licking his lips victoriously. He nimbly moves your underwear aside, and slides his digits inside you. Your nails dig into his arm, it feels so out of place yet so good. He pumps them so easily thanks to your wetness, you make it pleasurable even for him.

"Do I deserve you to make it so easy for me after how bad I was with you?"

"I don't care if you deserve it or not", you blurt out.

"Of course you don't", he wrinkles his nose. “You just want me to make you feel good because I got you used to that”.

Minho curls his fingers to emphasize his words, and your walls flutter around them. He bites his lips, abusing that spot he already knows it’s your weakness. The increase in your moans is predictable for him, he feels the success of hearing them just when he was expecting them.

"I turned you into the most spoiled girl, didn't I?"

You nod decisively this time. Your head burrows back into the seat with each pump of his fingers that ripples waves of pleasure into your core. He smiles, contemplating how pretty you look.

"I'm going to teach you how to be the best of all then".

The emptiness strikes you after his words, Minho withdraws his fingers and relinquishes the hold on your hand. Instead, he pulls on it to help you get up. He literally spins you on the spot with a flick of his arm. The other one surrounds your figure and makes your back stick to his chest. It's romantic, even, because it feels like a dance step.

“Be good for me”, he orders as he sneaks his hands towards your front. “Let me take this off”.

You let his fingers undo the button on your jeans and lower them just to press his hand on your back. He adapts you to the foreign position so naturally, your back arches for the first time to bend in front of someone. It makes you feel the blood rise to your face, even more so when Minho pulls your pants to expose your pussy to him. His hands caress the soft skin of your thighs, they hold you thinking of the infinity of times that he’ll be able to enjoy this view. He slips out of his pants just enough to free his cock, stroking it slowly. He gets so hard just seeing your soaking entrance waiting for him ― thankfully, he only has to shift his weight on his knee to align his head with it. Both hands grip your sides and pull your hips toward his, his tip slips between your folds with no help from them. You're as close as required. 

“Do you feel what you do to me, angel?”, he asks. "My body is also always ready for you".

And just as he states the evidence, Minho pushes his head with just two of his fingers, thrusting forward to bury his whole length into you. He fills you softly, groaning just by how tight you are. You hug every single inch the right way, he needs a few seconds to adapt to how good you feel to finally roll his hips. His position makes the mere thrusting reach so deep, you don’t have any other option than press your face into the seat.

It is so wrong, and somehow he manages to make you feel like everything is falling back into place. His hips move so sensually and gently in contrast to the grip of his fingers around your flesh. He spreads your cheeks with his free hand just for the curiosity of seeing how your pussy swallows him over and over again, it makes him sigh. The way he has your spine arched and your knees trembling unsteadily drives him crazy.

He fills you with long thrusts, pushing his hips up just as he bottoms to press into that spot inside you that has you clenching every time. Minho just doesn't fail, he doesn't miss a beat, he doesn't get tired. 

“This is so wrong”, you choke out. Your eyes are so tightly closed that you feel your head hurt. "Fuck, this is a madness―"

You can't even say your words properly because each one gets dragged with a different moan. Minho growls, he feels your walls suffocating him. They squeeze him so fiercely, and once he grabs your arm and pulls you up against his chest, it's even harder to bear. Your breath hitches with the new position, it compels you to sink into his cock on your own. You screech, dumbly, he’s so deep that you feel his tip rearranging your insides. You look down at your abdomen and swear you can see the small bulge over the obscene picture. 

Minho still has something to say. 

“Is it, baby? Is it really that bad that all we do is have sex?”, he thrusts up slowly, making you aware of how massive the stretching really is. 

His free hand fumbles up with your chest and kneads your closest breast under his fingers. He wants to touch everything, feel everything after believing that he would lose it forever.

"There's nothing wrong with just desiring each other", he adds.

And it’s at that moment that you understand what really was, and what is happening between you and Minho. You throw your head back to rest it on his shoulder, making eye contact. You feel like your soul is getting sucked through his gaze.

"No", you shake your head in denial. "It's wrong to desire each other so much that we can't even control it".

Minho’s hips jerk with your indirect confession. The sudden push sends your hand flying to the window. The mark of your fingers on the misted glass is just one more proof that your words are true. The little jump you unconsciously gave felt so good that you instinctively repeat it, raising your hips and sinking down on his cock again. He remains still, completely forgetting what you've said.

“Shit, I can't even think straight when that tight pussy of yours makes me feel this good”, he curses. 

His hand on your chest moves up to your neck, circling your throat. The other one goes down towards your hips, joining your movements to make them even more effective. And cleaner. He's moaning lowly, raspily, straight to your ear and it makes your thighs tremble. Minho is your vice, your addiction, your biggest and most difficult sin to forgive under God’s eyes. 

"Do you really want to forget about this? Do you want to go home and pretend we're not meant for each other, huh?"

You can only shake your head to answer. Your fingers quiver at the window, they distort the shape of your hand into an incomprehensible one. You feel the sweat on your forehead and your breathing hitching, you know you’re getting closer to your orgasm second by second. Minho controls your hip movements so well that he elicits small whimpers between each one. His hand around your neck subtly moves up to your jaw, turning your head so you're staring directly into his eyes. 

"I asked you to be good, doll", he reminds you, his voice sounding as breathless as you are. "Answer to me". 

Your hand closes around his wrist, your walls contract harder. “Uh, agh, no! I don’t want to!” 

Minho bites his lip, fighting the urge to kiss yours. "Then tell me you love me". 

Shame rises through your body at the same speed as heat. If your cheeks weren't already burning you could dare to say that what turned them red was Minho's demand. No matter how much he has shaped your behavior, there is still a fine difference between the two. He can say anything regardless of the weight his words have, and manipulate it according to your reaction.

Your hot breath fans over his lips, you're having the hardest time saying three dumb words that, for Minho, aren't dumb at all.

"Say it", he claims when you take more than a second. His hand on your hip sneaks up to your front, and he complicates things further by dragging it around your pelvic bone. His fingers travel to your lower stomach, the outline of your womb, and down to your sex. "Say you love my fingers, my cock, all of me".

Whereas you definitely do, the rubbing between your folds won't let you speak. His fingertips return to your clit, circling it over and over again until only inconsistencies come out of your mouth. Minho smiles because he knows you don't have to answer to agree with him. 

"Only then can I make sure that none of this was in vain, that you’ll actually be mine when we leave this city".

You dig your nails into his hand that is still holding your jaw. Your walls twitch around him, and once he feels it, he makes solid circles with his fingers on your clit. Your thighs jerk, they become completely unstable while chasing your high. Minho doesn't stop, he finds the exact pressure and speed as he watches your features contract in pleasure. He thought that the most beautiful image he had seen so far was that of having you under him, but now that he has seen you directly in the eyes while you cum around him, he’s not so sure anymore.

The high-pitched whine that rips through your throat is just a sign that you can't hold it in any longer. Minho's eyebrows shrink over his forehead as he feels your walls throbbing around him. He can't help but drop his head and press your foreheads together, causing both of you to close your eyes. Noses touching and split lips gasping for air from both sides.  

“You’re a freak”, you breathe out. There’s no other word that can describe exactly what you’re thinking at this moment. That same word you thought about when he showed you just one of the few things he wanted to do to you with his mouth. 

“Thank you”, he smiles with his eyes still closed. 

He's so proud of hearing it, but he’s also used to such an adjective. His fingers don’t stop despite the criticism that he doesn’t take as such. Your hand forcefully grabs his and tries to restrain his movements, achieving only to slow them down. He lets the euphoria of your high burn down little by little, breathing heavily on your face. He’s still buried so warmly inside you and feels that if you just move an inch, you will milk him dry. Sadly for his scented and clean clothes, your hand sneaks down to his thigh for support. You give him a short squeeze to get his attention, little realizing the effect your touch has on his sensitive nervous system. His hips roll up lightly, but they make you whimper.

“It wasn’t a compliment!”, you clarify your previous comment. “But ff―fuck, I do love you, your fingers, your cock, everything about you!” 

Minho opens his eyes just to see the fucked up expression decorating your features. Your hand goes up to his face, holding his head close so he doesn't pull away. There is no second thought running through your head as you let your fingers tangle in his sweat-dampened strands of hair. You can only confirm one thing that you had already suspected from the first moment that you innocently gave yourself to him.

Gaze locked in his lips, you share it out loud. “No matter how much I try, you’re so fucking hard to hate”. 

Minho licks his lips firmly. He doesn't close the distance to kiss you. No, he literally giggles childishly. “I love you too, angel of mine”, he whispers. “We’re gonna have so much fun at home”. 

His head drops lower and hides into your neck, inhaling in your scent to focus on something other than how pathetically he’s being edged. You haven't lost track of it, in fact, you're so aware of how intensely he's spasming inside you that you roll your hips shortly to help him. Minho hisses, picking up right where the feeling was forming before. All of his senses are so overstimulated that it doesn't take you more than a few slips to hear him moan in your neck. He inevitably nibbles the skin, trying to contain the real sound that would come out of his mouth while creaming your insides. His thick shots spread out to the point of leaking out of your hole, that it’s still suffocating him. You gasp with the wet sensation, feeling so filthy. So dirty.   

“Oh my God, look at the mess you made―”, you blurt, looking down. The modesty hits on you for the thousandth time. “How are you even going to clean all this up?”

Minho laughs, patting your thigh. He’s still feeling playful after all. "I won't", he mumbles. "I'll let our dance partner, coach and driver see you covered in my cum".

The sigh that comes out of your mouth is dramatic, but it's genuine. Of course you couldn't expect anything else coming from Minho. You hurriedly slip out of him, feeling completely exposed to your surroundings. You hear his complaint by moving way too roughly on his sensitive member, but it's the least he deserves for being so vulgar. You move to the side, adjusting your clothes as if you were about to run out of a motel hysterically after having an affair with your lover. 

Minho flops down on the seat as well, removing the hoodie he's wearing over his head. You catch a glimpse of him, contemplating how ridiculously attractive he looks with his hair falling into his eyes. The reddish hue of his lips is reflected around his cheeks, which only give him an unreal beauty in such an unethical scene you two had just starred.

He tidies up his outfit just like you did, positioning the removed garment on top of his pants with no intention of finding another solution soon. "This will work for now". 

You have no doubt that it will, because none of you will get out of this car. Minho reaches out his arm to take yours, showing that he's not done with you.

"Come here", he whispers so softly that you allow yourself to be drawn away, trusting that nothing bad will happen from now on. He positions you on top of him, feeling that he hasn't held you close enough as he wanted previously. He needs to see your face, your beautiful eyes in front of him, seducing him to tell you things he hasn't said to any girl before. "You don’t regret letting me be your first experience, right?", he asks in a tone of voice you've never heard before.

It is a tone that exposes the fear he feels to hear your answer. You shift on your weight to sit comfortably, encircling his shoulders with your arms. You free one of your hands to the front and smooth his tousled hair, seeing his eyes with clarity. They are expecting reciprocity. And you give it to him by shaking your head.

"No", you emphasize your gesture. "Even if you're a freak, I don't regret agreeing to that".

His hands encircle your lower back, holding you in his arms. He is too immersed in his thoughts to laugh at your comment. The corners of his lips barely rise.

"Do you think I can be your first sexual partner, then?"

There aren't many answers that may be hanging on the tip of your tongue. Still, Minho feels that he has risked too much.

"Or you could slap me right now and run away".

You have no choice but to snort at his clarification, remembering those words from the first night the two of you had an intimate encounter. If someone had predicted that all of this was going to happen that night, you're not sure you would have believed them.

Minho's lips falling into a pout invite you to press yours against them before you give him an answer. You feel how his jaw relaxes and he lets himself be carried away by the enchantment of your mouth, which entices him to deepen the kiss himself. Minho regrets at that moment each and every one of the mouths that he has kissed before meeting you, because he realizes that none of these kisses have been worth it.

Your taste is such a sweet vice. He never wants to stop kissing you if it were possible. That’s why he is not the one who separates from your lips, instead, you move away so as not to leave things unfinished. You hold his face in your hands, taking the break you needed to settle the thoughts in your head. You do want Minho to be your first sexual partner.

"Why would I slap you?", is what you say instead of explicitly accepting it.

"Because I made the same huge mistake you made".

You laugh. The smile that spreads across your lips takes on what you both feared at first. What you two avoided and denied at all costs while immersing in that jacuzzi for the first time, is now a reality.

"You got tangled”.

Minho can't deny your accusation, and not because it's absolutely true, but because the movement that draws attention through the window makes both turn your heads in that direction. The image of the umbrella being opened and revealing the coach walking out the hotel’s door with one of his suitcases is clear. You know that he’s possibly approaching to put it in the glove compartment. Minho has no choice but to wrap his arms around your middle, hugging you close to him and pressing you against his body to keep you as attached to him as possible before you get interrupted.

It is a fact. Lee Minho was your first time. He has uncovered a new side of you. He has taught you to experiment on sex, and as if that was’t enough, he has corrupted you. But it is even more evident that he has not been able to follow his one and only rule.

He sacrifices his pride and uses all his will to confirm your words in a small voice.

"I absolutely did". 

EXTENDED AUTHOR'S NOTE ( ! ) thank you so much for reading, you don't know how much i enjoyed writing this fic and how much it inspired me to start writing other things that are already on the way. you may or may not know that i was on a hiatus due to my mental health, and for the past few weeks i've taken the time to come back and finish hard work like this.

thank you for giving me the space to share what i like to do, i would love to read your opinions about this fic. i will appreciate them all as much as i appreciate your interactions. i'm so happy that you love this blog as much as i do. stay, let's share many other fics, i'll do my best from this side !