#zenfulslumber

San inhaled deeply as he sat in the shallow pool, the warm water lapping at his chest. The surface was cloudy, opaque with the white mixture they’d used to create the "milk bath" effect. His soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, heavy with water, but it was Wooyoung’s presence that weighed on him more than anything. The rhythmic click of the camera had been his only companion for the past few minutes, but the room was thick with an unspoken tension.

The concept was simple enough — a creative, sensual photoshoot with the aesthetic so many seemed to like these days, Wooyoung especially. And who was he to say no to his darling Wooyoung when he asked if San would help him experiment with his photography? It was a harmless concept after all, or so San had thought. Until Wooyoung showed up in that outfit.

The moment Wooyoung entered the studio, San’s focus had started to drift. Wooyoung wore a long, flowing skirt, its fabric loose and airy, brushing just above his knees as he moved gracefully around the edge of the pool. He also had his long, dark hair down, framing his beautiful face in soft waves, accenting his sharp jawline in a way that made San’s breath catch every time he glanced over. It was just so... effortless, and yet it did things to San’s insides that were anything but simple.

"Turn your head a little," Wooyoung instructed from behind the lens, his voice soft, barely carrying over the gentle rippling of the water. San obeyed automatically as he always did with Wooyoung, his neck stiff as he tried to avoid meeting Wooyoung’s eyes directly. He could feel those dark, gorgeous eyes on him, studying him — no, admiring him.

Every shutter click sent a jolt through him, making his skin prickle. It should have felt normal. After all, they’d done photoshoots together with San being his test model countless times. But this... this felt different. The way Wooyoung lingered behind the camera, his gaze too intense, too focused on every detail of San’s body, made him hyper-aware of how vulnerable he felt.

His heart beat faster. His muscles tensed as he shifted slightly in the water, trying to keep his composure. Yet every time his eyes flickered up to Wooyoung, he caught himself staring — staring at the way that skirt brushed against his thighs when he moved, at the way his lips curved in concentration, at the slight smirk Wooyoung wore as if he knew exactly what San was thinking.

"Perfect, San," Wooyoung praised, looking through the camera as he snapped another picture. "You’re looking great."

San swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten. He knew he was supposed to feel flattered, but every word out of Wooyoung’s mouth sounded... suggestive. His mind was playing tricks on him, surely. They were friends, best friends. There had always been flirtations, harmless teasing between them. But lately, it had started to feel like something else — something deep down San knew he always wanted.

The water swirled as San shifted again, uncomfortable in more ways than one. The wet fabric of his pants clung to his thighs, and the growing tightness below his waist wasn’t lost on him. He cursed inwardly, his pulse quickening as the pressure built. The warmth and colour of the water only made things worse, amplifying sensations he’d been desperately trying to suppress.

Wooyoung lowered the camera, tilting his head slightly as he observed San, his gaze sweeping over him in a way that felt far more intimate than professional. "You okay?" Wooyoung asked, voice low and teasing.

This fucker knows. He always knows.

San’s cheeks flushed at the question. There was no way Wooyoung didn’t notice. How could he not ? San had never been good at hiding his emotions — let alone something as blatantly obvious as this. Wooyoung of all people knew when he was lying about being fine anyway.

He shifted uncomfortably again, the water barely covering the evidence of his arousal. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to think of an excuse. Anything that would deflect from what was happening.

"Y-Yeah, just... the water," San mumbled, his voice betraying him as it cracked slightly.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered with amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just the water, huh?"

Bastard. San cursed under his breath, feeling heat rise from his neck to his ears. There was no hiding it. Wooyoung’s gaze had already wandered down, his smirk deepening as he looked back up at San, eyes full of something that made San’s stomach twist into knots. The way Wooyoung was looking at him — it wasn’t just teasing. There was something deeper, something hungrier.

In his delusional state, San could only hope this wasn’t a cruel joke by Wooyoung.

San swallowed again, his throat dry despite the humidity in the room. He could feel the water shifting around him, the warm liquid lapping against his skin as if mocking his predicament. It wasn’t just the water, and they both knew it.

Without a word, Wooyoung set the camera aside on a nearby stool, his movements slow and deliberate. San watched him, wide-eyed, as he stepped closer to the edge of the pool, the soft fabric of his skirt brushing against his legs as he moved. Every step seemed calculated, purposeful, and San’s heart pounded in his chest, knowing that whatever was about to happen, there was no stopping it.

Wooyoung crouched at the pool's edge, his long hair falling over his eyes as he leaned in closer to San, their faces now only inches apart. San’s breath hitched again, his hands clenched into fists beneath the water, trying to keep control. He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, each beat echoing the tension between them.

"Sannie," Wooyoung purred softly, sending a shiver down San’s spine. "You don’t have to be embarrassed."

San’s eyes flickered up to meet Wooyoung’s, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The look Wooyoung was giving him wasn’t one of mockery or teasing. It was far too dangerous to be a joke anymore — and it made San’s entire body tense with anticipation.

Before San could even think of a response, Wooyoung slid effortlessly into the pool, the water splashing lightly as his skirt fanned out around him. The warm liquid rippled around them, and San felt his entire body freeze as Wooyoung’s weight settled on his lap.

San’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse thundering as Wooyoung lowered himself right onto San’s painfully apparent erection. The water sloshed softly around them, the warmth only intensifying the sensation of Wooyoung’s weight pressed against him. For a long, agonising second, neither of them moved. San didn’t dare breathe, his mind reeling with the shock of what was happening. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, but now, with Wooyoung in his lap, the boundary between them had been crossed and there was no going back.

The wet fabric of Wooyoung’s skirt floated lightly on the water’s surface, but where their bodies met, it clung tightly, plastered to his skin. San could feel every shift, every subtle movement of Wooyoung’s hips as he adjusted his position. The pressure in San’s pants grew unbearable, and he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, but the heat in his core had already taken over.

Wooyoung’s hands slid up San’s chest slowly, his fingers tracing the damp fabric of his shirt, and San sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Wooyoung’s face — the way his lips curled ever so slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes that told San this had been intentional all along.

“Wooyoung,” San whispered, his voice hoarse, his hands hovering in the water, unsure of where to place them. He could barely form a coherent thought, his mind buzzing with a mixture of panic and desire. “What are you...”

Wooyoung leaned in closer, cutting off his words. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his lips ghosting over the shell of San’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Isn’t it obvious?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice, low and sultry, and it made San’s entire body tense.

“But your skirt-” San halfheartedly protested, quickly hushed by the other.

“It’s just water, it’ll dry.” 

San swallowed hard, his hands finally landing on Wooyoung’s hips, fingers digging into the wet fabric of his skirt. He could feel the softness of Wooyoung’s skin beneath the thin layer of cloth, the warmth radiating between them. His mind screamed at him to stop, to regain control of the situation before it spiralled any further out of his hands, but his body had already made the decision for him.

Wooyoung’s hands moved higher, sliding up to San’s shoulders before tangling in the wet strands of his hair. San’s breath stuttered as Wooyoung’s hips shifted again, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure shooting through him. He couldn’t help the low groan that escaped his lips, his grip on Wooyoung tightening.

“God, San, relax,” Wooyoung whispered, trying to keep his giggles at bay. “You’re so tense.”

San let out a shaky laugh, his fingers tightening against Wooyoung’s hips. “It’s not that easy,” he muttered, his voice thick with the effort of keeping himself together. His eyes darted to Wooyoung’s lips, hovering just inches away, teasingly close. The tension between them was unbearable, a live wire waiting to snap.

He must be dreaming.

Wooyoung’s lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against San’s cheek, then his ear. “Why not?” he murmured. “We’ve both been waiting for this, haven’t we?”

San’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to deny it, to laugh it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but Wooyoung yet again did what only Woooyung could do — read his deepest thoughts as if he was an open book. We’ve both been waiting for this. The truth of it settled deep in his chest, and for the first time, San let himself process. Wooyoung wanted it too. It should’ve been obvious; the lingering glances, the playful banter, the way Wooyoung always seemed to get so close, to test the limits of their friendship — it had all been leading to this. San just hadn’t realised it was mutual.

Wooyoung shifted again, his hips rolling slowly against San’s, and his breath hitched as a wave of heat washed over him. He couldn’t stop the way his body responded, couldn’t stop the way his fingers tightened on Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him closer. Needing more.

“Wooyoung,” San whispered again, his voice trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a warning, but it didn’t matter. Wooyoung’s lips brushed against his jaw, a featherlight touch that sent another shiver down his spine.

“I want you, San.” Wooyoung whispered, his voice soft but firm, his hands sliding down to rest on San’s chest again. “You don’t have to hold back.”

That was all San needed. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, capturing Wooyoung’s lips in a kiss that was messy, desperate, and full of everything they’d been holding back. The taste of Wooyoung’s lips was intoxicating, soft and slightly sweet, and San groaned into the kiss, his hands pulling Wooyoung impossibly closer as if this would be the last chance they had for this.

Wooyoung responded immediately, his lips parting, letting San deepen the kiss. Their breaths shared the air, hot and heavy, and the water around them splashed lightly as their movements became more frantic, more impatient. San’s heart pounded in his chest, drowning out everything else as the only feeling left was of Wooyoung’s body pressed against his, the warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips.

Wooyoung’s hands slid down to San’s waist, fingers gripping tightly as he rocked his hips forward again, sending another jolt of pleasure through San’s body. San gasped into the kiss, his grip tightening on Wooyoung’s hips, holding him in place as their bodies moved together in perfect sync. It was overwhelming — the heat, the pressure, the intensity of it all — and San’s mind went blank as he gave in completely, letting his body take over.

Their kisses grew more frantic, more desperate, as if they were trying to make up for all the time they’d wasted dancing around each other. San’s hands roamed over Wooyoung’s body, fingers tracing the shape of his ass through the wet fabric, and Wooyoung let out a low, breathless moan that sent a surge of heat straight to San’s core.

“God, Wooyoung,” San breathed against his lips, his voice filled with the overwhelming desire. He wasn’t sure if he was begging for more or trying to catch his breath, but Wooyoung’s lips curved into a smile against his mouth, and San knew he’d won.

“You like this, don’t you?” Wooyoung whispered, his voice teasing as his hands slid down to San’s thighs, gripping them tightly as he rocked forward again. “You like me like this, in a pretty skirt. Just for you.”

San could only respond with a deep, “yes. Fuck, yes I do, Young-ah.” He couldn’t form any other coherent thoughts as his body shuddered beneath Wooyoung’s touch. He was too far gone, lost in the heat of the moment, in the feel of Wooyoung’s body pressed against his, in the electric connection between them. It wasn’t enough, though.

Wooyoung’s lips trailed down San’s neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake, and San tilted his head back, giving him more access. His mind was a haze, his body on fire as Wooyoung’s teeth grazed his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Wooyoung,” San groaned again, his hands tangling in Wooyoung’s hair as he pulled him closer, needing more, needing everything.

His pulse raced, each beat pounding in his ears as Wooyoung’s mouth moved down his neck, teasing, taunting with featherlight kisses and the occasional nip of teeth. The heat between them was unbearable now, burning through San’s self-control like paper to a flame. His hands threaded through Wooyoung’s wet hair, tugging gently, desperate to bring his lips back where he needed them most — closer.

“ San ,” Wooyoung breathed against his skin, lips grazing the curve of his throat before trailing lower. The sensation was maddening. Each brush of his lips left San trembling, gasping softly at the way Wooyoung’s breath felt against his already over-sensitive skin.

The water rippled as Wooyoung shifted in his lap, adjusting his position, his skirt spreading out like a cloud on the milky surface. The fabric clung to them both, making the sensation of every movement amplified. San was hyper-aware of the way Wooyoung’s thighs were pressing against his own, of the way his hips moved just enough to keep the tension between them on the edge of breaking.

“Do you want me to stop?” Wooyoung whispered, lips hovering just above San’s collarbone.

San swallowed hard, barely able to focus through the haze clouding his mind.”No,” he shook his head, his hands tightening in Wooyoung’s hair. “Just let me taste you again,” he pulled him closer, dragging his lips back up to meet his own.

The kiss was fierce, full of raw need that neither of them could contain any longer. San’s lips moved hungrily against Wooyoung’s, tasting the faint sweetness of his lip balm mixed with the intoxicating heat of his mouth. His hands slid down Wooyoung’s back once more, tracing the wet fabric clinging to his skin, feeling the heat of his body through the thin material.

Wooyoung moaned softly into the kiss, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through San’s entire body. His hips bucked involuntarily beneath Wooyoung, a desperate need for more sparking in his veins, and Wooyoung responded in kind, rolling his hips forward again, creating the perfect friction that left San gasping.

“God,” San groaned, his voice low and strained as he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, his entire body on fire with a need that burned through his very marrow. “This... this is insane. You’re insane.”

Wooyoung laughed softly, his breath warm against San’s lips. “Maybe,” he said, his voice teasing, playful as ever. But there was something darker beneath it now, something that matched the intensity between them. “But you’re not stopping me.”

San couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him, even though he was too far gone to think clearly. He wasn’t stopping Wooyoung — and he didn’t want to. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Needed it.

“I’m not,” San admitted breathlessly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands returned to rest on Wooyoung’s waist, fingers gripping the wet fabric of his skirt as he held him in place. He couldn’t hide the need in his voice, couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t exactly what he wanted. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time softer, but no less intense. “Because I wasn’t planning on stopping.”

The kiss deepened again, slower this time, more deliberate, but just as consuming. San lost himself in the feel of Wooyoung’s lips, in the way they moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly as if they were meant to be this close, this intimate.

He was always meant to be mine.

The world around them dissolved into nothing but heat and touch and the sound of their breaths mingling in the humid air. Wooyoung’s hands slid down San’s chest, fingers tracing the soaked fabric of his shirt before tugging at it, slowly peeling it away from his skin. San shuddered as the cool air hit his bare chest, but the warmth of Wooyoung’s hands followed immediately, pressing against his skin, grounding him in the moment.

“San,” Wooyoung whispered against his lips, his hands roaming freely now, exploring the expanse of San’s torso. “You’re so tense. Let go.”

San’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on Wooyoung’s waist as his body responded to every touch, every word. He wanted to let go, but the intensity of it all was overwhelming. His mind spun, unable to catch up with the raw desire coursing through him.

Wooyoung’s fingers danced down his chest, skimming over his stomach before dipping lower, and San’s entire body jerked in response, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. The sensation was electric, setting his nerves on fire, and his hips lifted instinctively, pressing into Wooyoung’s touch.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on San. “There we go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against San’s ear, sending another shiver down his spine. “Just like that.”

San’s mind went blank, all rational thought was thrown out the window as Wooyoung’s touch consumed him, as their bodies moved together, the water splashing lightly around them, forgotten. The tension between them had broken, but what replaced it was something even more powerful — an overwhelming need that neither of them could ever satiate again.

San’s breath came in ragged gasps, taking his turn to press his lips to Wooyoung’s neck, pulling him closer as their hips ground together, creating a delicious friction that made his entire body tremble. He could hear Wooyoung’s breath hitching, the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips sending San spiralling further into the haze of want that consumed him.

“Wooyoung,” San groaned, his voice strained, his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s hips. His lips, his hands, his body — everything about him was driving San to the edge.

Please,” Wooyoung begged in a whisper, a little pout forming on his lips. San was doomed, he could never say no to pouty Wooyoung. “I need you.”

And with that, San finally gave in, letting the last of his restraint crumble as he pulled Wooyoung closer, their bodies moving together in a slow, heated rhythm that left them both breathless, gasping for more.

Wooyoung’s hands roamed freely over his body, fingertips grazing his skin, sending waves of electricity through San’s veins. His lips hovered just inches away from San’s, teasing, never quite letting their mouths meet fully again, and it drove San wild with need.

San’s grip tightened on Wooyoung’s waist as his head fell back. The heat coursing through his veins, the pressure low in his belly — it was too much, and yet, he couldn’t get enough.

Wooyoung’s kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if he was savouring every second, and San felt himself sinking further into the haze of desire, his body responding to Wooyoung’s every move.

When Wooyoung shifted in his lap, pressing down just enough to send another wave of pleasure through San’s body, San let out a low, shaky groan. The friction between them was unbearable, their clothes soaked and sticking to their skin, amplifying the sensation of every movement.

He could barely think anymore. San groaned, his hands tightening on Wooyoung’s waist as he pulled him further down, their bodies crashing together once again. All he wanted was Wooyoung — more of him, closer, deeper.

Wooyoung’s hands moved lower, fingers trailing over San’s torso, leaving a burning trail in their wake. San’s breath hitched as Wooyoung’s hands finally dipped below the water, tracing the waistband of his soaked pants, teasingly slow.

San’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a ragged breath, his mind spinning with the sensation. “Fuck... please,” he gasped, his voice hoarse, barely able to form the words.

Wooyoung’s lips curved into a beautifully mischievous grin, his hands stilling just at the edge of where San needed him most. “Please what?” he feigned innocence, his voice full of teasing amusement. He leaned in closer, lips brushing against San’s ear, sending a fresh wave of shivers down his spine.

San groaned, his hands sliding down to grip Wooyoung’s thighs, his body trembling with anticipation. “Stop teasing,” he growled, his voice low and strained. There was no bite to it, they both knew San would take whatever teasing Wooyoung wanted to provide. He’d still pout about it, though.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, his breath warm against San’s neck as he pressed a soft kiss just below his ear. “I love hearing you beg,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing San’s skin. “But since you asked so nicely...”

Before San could respond, Wooyoung’s hand dipped lower, and the sudden rush of sensation that followed as Wooyoung finally wrapped his hand around San’s cock made his entire body jerk in response. A low, broken moan escaped his lips as his head fell back, his mind blanking out completely. Every touch, every movement sent shockwaves through him, pushing him further and further past the point of no return.

Wooyoung’s breath was hot against his neck, his lips grazing San’s skin with each ragged breath, and the feel of Wooyoung’s body against his was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once. San’s hand slipped beneath the skirt and roamed over Wooyoung’s thighs, desperate for more, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together in a slow, torturous rhythm that left San trembling.

“God, Wooyoung,” San gasped, his voice rough and breathless. All he could think about was the way Wooyoung’s body felt against his, the way his touch sent sparks of pleasure through his entire being. And how good he’d feel.

Wooyoung’s lips trailed down San’s neck, kissing a path to his collarbone, and San’s breath stuttered, his body arching into Wooyoung’s touch as another wave of pleasure rolled through him.

Each stroke caused a pulse of static to fill San’s brain. He’d spent so many nights thinking about this moment, imagining his own hand as Wooyoung’s and yet it could never compare to how it felt now. 

“I’ve got you,” Wooyoung murmured, his voice soft but full of intent, his hands moving with a deliberate slowness that drove San to the brink. “Just let go.”

And San did.

The world blurred around him, nothing but heat and sensation and the feel of Wooyoung’s body against his. He couldn’t hold back any longer, the tension in his body snapping as a rush of pleasure flooded through him, leaving him breathless, trembling, and completely undone. Yet not quite satisfied.

San gasped for air, his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s skin as the aftershocks of the moment rippled through him. Wooyoung’s body was still pressed tightly against his, his breath warm against San’s neck, and for a long moment, neither of them moved, lost in the aftermath of what had just happened.

Slowly, the world came back into focus, the sound of the water gently lapping around them, the warmth of Wooyoung’s breath still fanning across San’s skin. San’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of what had just happened settling in, but all he could feel was the warmth of Wooyoung’s body, the lingering touch of his lips.

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung whispered softly, his voice now gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments before.

San let out a breathless laugh, his body still buzzing with the aftermath. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice shaky, but there was a softness to it now. “Yeah, I’m more than okay.”

Wooyoung smiled against his skin, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the corner of San’s mouth. “Good,” he whispered, his hands still resting on San’s chest, as if he didn’t want to let go just yet. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

San laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah? What else have you got?” Despite his uneven breaths he still found it in himself to return the teasing. Even having just come down he could feel the rush of blood in his core again.

Fuck.

Wooyoung barely let him catch his breath before he reached for San’s hand this time, guiding it back up his skirt. “You didn’t find the surprise yet,” he whined with a pout. The surprise?

Excited by whatever the supposed surprise was, San momentarily pushed the thoughts of how painfully hard he still was to let his hands roam beneath Wooyoung’s soaked skirt again. This time, he ventured further — finding the surprise. Wooyoung had gone commando. 

San laughed in surprise, a soft groan rising in his throat as he finally felt just how hard the other was too.

Wooyoung grabbed his wrist to stop him momentarily. “No more foreplay, I’ll lose my mind if you don’t fuck me within the next thirty seconds.”

San’s eyes widened a little but he wasn’t about to argue with his precious Wooyoung — Wooyoung on his lap in a skirt asking to ride him, no less. Not a chance.

He couldn’t comply faster, holding himself steady as Wooyoung reached behind himself. A part of him wondered if maybe he should’ve been more insistent on prepping Wooyoung properly but he was in no state to try and be rational. And his thoughts were immediately halted when the other removed his hand again to reveal a cute little plug he’d apparently been hiding away.

San’s breath caught in his throat again, unable to believe he could’ve gone the entire day without knowing about this. “You are insane, Jung Wooyoung.”

That earned him the cutest giggle that sent another flutter into his core. “I know,” Wooyoung wrapped his arm around the back of San’s neck for balance as he positioned himself. “I blame you.”

“Me?” San whined in another pathetic protest of confusion but there was no time to get into a petty argument. Not when he could feel himself slipping into Wooyoung as if he was made for him.

Despite the heat, Wooyoung took his time. San kept his grip on the other’s waist firm to help him, fighting every urge to buck his hips up with all of his might. He was sure he’d drowned in the opaque white water and had gone to heaven because this couldn’t be real.

He was fucking Wooyoung.

“Ah~ San,” Wooyoung whined as he finally dropped all of his weight to rest on San’s lap again. San could barely process his thoughts but instinctively he placed a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh and another on his back — it was his turn to take a little control.

“Wooyoung, you feel so good,” he groaned and began peppering soft kisses to the pretty boy’s jawline. He’d do his best not to mess up his makeup but he’d made no promises. “That’s it, baby. Take it easy, hm?”

Wooyoung only responded with soft whines and breathy giggles with each movement he tried to make. He gave an experimental roll of his hips to which both of them collapsed into each other further.

“You ready?” San nipped at the soft skin of Wooyoung’s ear before dropping his voice. “Gonna fuck you just like you wanted, just like you’ve been waiting for.”

Wooyoung nodded in desperation, rocking his hips as if to hurry San up. “Mhm,” he moaned — gripping onto the fabric of San’s shirt. 

San was not convinced he’d last very long at all considering he’d already cum once, but that wasn’t going to stop him coaxing it out of Wooyoung also. He set a slow pace to begin with, using Wooyoung’s hips as leverage to help move him. The whines and whimpers that began spilling out from the other were deliciously intoxicating — it almost saddened him to muffle them with his own lips but they couldn’t risk being too loud.

The water sloshed and rippled around them with every impact of their skin, Wooyoung’s skirt sticking to his thighs. As much as San adored the pretty piece, it was in the way and this position wasn’t working. He shoved the front up towards Wooyoung’s stomach, bunching it a little awkwardly.

Displeased, he took one of Wooyoung’s hands and placed it over his stomach to hold the skirt in place, growling a small “hold” command before he adjusted his position to continue. San pulled back just enough to watch the way the strands of hair fell over Wooyoung’s beautiful face as pleasure overtook his expression.

The sight of Wooyoung’s own cock now bouncing between his own stomach and San’s sent San into a near feral mindset. If he had a spare hand he might’ve considered jerking him in return — but getting his sweet Wooyoung to cum untouched would be so much better.

Leaning back on his hand San fucked up into Wooyoung with a heat he never thought a human being could experience. It was worse than a fever, more intense than an adrenaline rush and crackled throughout him like a freshly lit fire — a desire.

Wooyoung’s sweet sounds grew faster, climbing in pitch which San took to mean he was growing closer and closer to his release. As if he had any control at this point, the sounds alone pushed him further into his insanity that was the pleasure of Wooyoung. Everything about him — lips, hair, hands, cock, it all sent San spinning into a spiral that screamed only one thing. More.

The burn in his thighs didn’t deter San from continuing his pace. Wooyoung was barely able to keep himself upright judging by the way his body swayed and his hand searched for somewhere to steady himself.

“Sannie~” Wooyoung purred, gasping softly as he tried his best to rock his own hips. He’d had the upper hand to begin with but now he was nothing but a whining mess on top of San. And San hadn’t felt a triumph like this in a long time.

He couldn’t hide his smirk even through his own groans and grunts. “That’s it, baby, such a good boy for me. You feel so good… gonna make me cum again.”

Wooyoung let out a gasp in response, falling closer to San like his life depended on taking in the very air San breathed.

San responded immediately — trusting in Wooyoung’s balance to keep himself up — and grabbed a handful of Wooyoung’s long hair at the back of his head to pull him into a sloppy kiss. He didn’t care that their teeth crashed together or that they missed their targets for a good few seconds, he was too close to his euphoria to care. 

The only thing he could tell himself was he didn’t want to finish first — it was Wooyoung’s turn. He wanted to see his pretty boy cum, it’s the least he deserved for all the teasing he’d been through.

The way Wooyoung tightened around him gave him the signal to perfect the angle and focus on just the right place to feel the other melt on top of him. There was a long string of precum dripping from Wooyoung’s tip down onto San’s abs and San couldn’t hide the pleased purr in his throat at the sight. God, how much better it was in person than in his dreams.

“That’s it, pretty boy, you cum for me. Cum on my cock, please. ” Reminded of Wooyoung’s earlier words about his begging, San knew he’d hit the right spot with both his body and his words when Wooyoung let out the most beautiful sound San was sure he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Wooyoung’s hand flew to his own cock to help himself through his climax, no longer caring about making a mess of San’s shirt — San didn’t care either, messy clothes were the least of his worries right now.

“Oh- oh my god, San ,” Wooyoung’s head flew back to expose his perfect neck and San took the opportunity to strike.

He bit down as his own climax washed over him — not enough to leave any long term marks, thankfully. The feeling of Wooyoung’s gasp and moans beneath his teeth were enough to pull another guttural groan from San. 

Holy fuck. 

He’d just had sex with Wooyoung.

As the movements ceased and the waters calmed, the only sounds throughout the room were the exasperated breaths and soft moans from the still sensitive bodies. They hadn’t looked at each other yet, San didn’t know if he could face the consequences of what this meant — now that the haze of lust had worn off.

Would they regret this?

San pushed the thoughts away, running a hand gently through Wooyoung’s hair as they sat for another few moments. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was comfortable — the same as it always was for them when they were together.

Finally, San dared to pull back to meet Wooyoung’s gaze. The shared smiles came immediately as both fell into laughter, disbelief at what they’d both just done.

“Did we really just…?” San shook his head, still laughing.

Wooyoung brushed his fingertips along San’s neck once more, biting his lip through his grin. “We did. I can’t believe it took you so long!”

“Wh- took me so long?!” San’s face fell in shock and Wooyoung’s laughter kicked off another round of giggles before the two decided they should probably clean up.

The studio was quiet, everyone else had gone home by now. San waved his keys as they packed up and changed out of their wet clothes. “You hungry? Let’s go eat.”

“Couldn’t have asked me that before you decided to fuck me?” Wooyoung retorted, giggling again as San shushed him — as if anyone would hear them.

“Alright then, next time I’ll take you out to eat before I fuck you. How does that sound?”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

San stepped closer, a possessive smile on his face as he cupped the other’s chin with his hand, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

The steady hum of music in the background seemed to blend with the laughter of his friends, a comforting buzz that settled into Mingi’s chest. He was lounging in one of the chairs, legs stretched out comfortably, an arm draped lazily over the backrest. His drink was still half full, but he wasn’t in any rush to finish it. The night had a relaxed vibe, like these things usually did — nothing intense, just a bunch of close friends hanging out. Yunho was on the couch across from him, casually watching their overly tipsy friend try to balance a bottle on his head. Mingi shook his head, grinning. Same old chaos.

“Alright, who’s up for something stupid?” came the familiar voice of one of their more mischievous friends. Mingi didn’t even need to look to know where this was headed.

He smirked, leaning further back into his chair, watching the scene unfold like a spectator at a game. His guess was on Truth or Dare, something mindless that would end in someone doing something embarrassing. But when she spoke again, Mingi couldn’t help the low chuckle that slipped from his lips.

“Seven. Minutes. In. Heaven.”

“Really?” Mingi raised an eyebrow as half the group groaned in protest while the others cheered, already amused by the thought of it. “You’re not serious.”

She was dead serious.

Mingi let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Of course. Let’s play like we’re in school again.”

He wasn’t opposed to the idea. It was stupid and childish, but that’s what made it fun. These nights were always about doing ridiculous things to laugh about later. He was just glad to be surrounded by familiar faces at the beginning of the semester instead of the stress of exam season.

Their friend grabbed a pen and some scraps of paper, scribbling names down as the rest of them either jumped in or rolled their eyes at the idea. Mingi watched as Yunho shrugged, scrawling his name and tossing it in with the rest. The whole thing was stupid, but what else was new?

Mingi glanced across the room at Yunho, who seemed just as amused as he was. They’d known each other forever, so this didn’t feel weird. They could laugh it off, no problem. His pen scratched across the paper as he added his name to the mix and tossed it into the pile.

He wasn’t even paying attention when the bottle started spinning — just enjoying the low chatter and laughter around him — until he heard his name.

“Mingi!”

He blinked, raising an eyebrow again as laughter exploded around the room. There was Yunho’s name, too, and suddenly, all eyes were on them. The absurdity of the situation hit him, and he couldn’t help but grin. Of course. Of all the possible combinations, it had to be him and Yunho.

The group was already practically on top of them, making all sorts of exaggerated comments and jokes, trying to hype up the moment as if it was the funniest thing they’d seen all night. He caught Yunho’s eye from across the room, and they shared a look — half amused, half disbelieving.

Mingi stood up, stretching dramatically. “Well, I guess if I’m going down, I’m dragging Yunho with me.” The comment sent another round of laughter through the group, and Mingi couldn’t help but feed off the energy, his grin widening.

They made their way toward the small closet by the hallway, and one of the girls theatrically opened the door, gesturing like a game show host. “Your palace awaits,” she teased, already laughing before they’d even stepped inside.

Yunho gave Mingi an exaggerated bow, and Mingi smirked, waving him inside. “After you, princess.” He spoke as if this were some grand event. They played along because that’s what this was — a joke. And Yunho, of all people, was someone Mingi could handle being in close quarters with. It was Yunho, after all. His friend. His best friend.

They squeezed into the cramped space, the door shutting behind them with a dull click. Suddenly, the muffled sound of the party fell away, leaving them in a strange, isolated quiet. The closet was smaller than Mingi had thought, the air already thick with the faint scent of cologne and something warm. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like they were lounging around with space to breathe, either. Their knees knocked together as they shifted into position, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness.

“So,” Yunho started, his voice still light with humour. “What do we do for seven minutes?”

Mingi chuckled, but he could already feel the shift in the atmosphere. It wasn’t immediate, but something about being pressed so close together in this tiny, dark space made the situation feel different. The space felt more intimate than it should. Sure, the game was meant to be a joke, but in this small bubble, where there was only him and Yunho, the teasing felt thinner, more fragile.

“Well, we’ve already survived the first ten seconds,” Mingi said, trying to keep things casual, his arms still crossed against his chest. “That’s gotta count for something.”

Yunho let out a short laugh, but it felt a little forced now, like he was thinking the same thing Mingi was — the air between them was different. Mingi shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against Yunho’s arm, and though it was nothing, really, he noticed it. He noticed it more than he should’ve.

It wasn’t awkward — yet — but Mingi could feel something creeping up on them. Maybe it was the darkness, or maybe it was the buzz of alcohol in his blood. No way to ignore the closeness. He could hear Yunho’s breathing now, quiet but steady.

He was suddenly too aware of the way their legs kept brushing whenever either of them shifted. Too aware of Yunho’s presence in the small space, the way his voice sounded just a bit different, a bit quieter, in the dark.

“Maybe we should just… stare at each other awkwardly for the rest of the time,” Mingi joked.

He wasn’t sure why he said it, but Yunho didn’t laugh. Not really. The energy in the small room had changed. Mingi didn’t know when it had happened, but the longer they stayed in the dark, the more he felt it.

Had it been seven minutes yet?

The brush of Yunho’s shoulder against his was suddenly too close. His heartbeat was suddenly too loud. It was just Yunho. They were just playing a dumb game. But Mingi’s pulse picked up anyway, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to say next.

Mingi shifted again, his shoulder once again brushing against Yunho’s, but this time, it wasn’t just a casual nudge. He felt the contact linger for a split second longer than it needed to, and his mind began to spin.

He stared at the outline of Yunho in the dim light, realising just how small the space really was. He could feel the warmth radiating off Yunho’s body, and suddenly, the joke from earlier didn’t feel so funny anymore.

Mingi couldn’t will his body to stay still, shuffling a little in place, the small motion making their legs bump again. It should’ve been nothing, but the contact sent a strange heat crawling up his neck. He glanced toward Yunho, barely able to make out his expression in the dim light, but something in the air between them had changed.

It wasn’t the playful, easy atmosphere from before.

Mingi’s mouth went dry as the silence stretched, the noise from outside the closet fading away until all he could hear was the steady rhythm of his own breathing and the faint sound of Yunho’s beside him. Normally, they’d be joking by now, laughing about how ridiculous this game was, teasing each other like they always did.

But this time, neither of them said a word.

Mingi wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden tension that hung in the air, thick and almost suffocating. He tried to focus on something else — anything else — but all he could think about was the way Yunho’s body felt so close to his, the way their knees kept brushing, the way the darkness made it impossible to ignore just how little space there was between them.

He shifted again, just slightly, but this time he let his arm rest against Yunho’s, the warmth of the contact sending a shiver up his spine. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol,the familiarity, the darkness, or something else entirely, but he didn’t pull away.

“Yunho,” Mingi said softly, the word barely a whisper in the dark.

He wasn’t even sure why he said it — just hearing Yunho’s name felt like a way to break the silence. He didn’t know what he expected Yunho to do, but the continued silence that followed only made the tension worse.

Yunho shifted slightly, his arm brushing against Mingi’s again. Mingi felt his pulse quicken, the heat in the small space suddenly unbearable. He couldn’t look away from Yunho’s outline in the dim light, couldn’t stop himself from focusing on every tiny detail — the way Yunho’s breath had become a little more shallow, the way his shoulders were tense against the closet wall.

“Yeah?” Yunho’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Mingi’s chest tightened. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the way Yunho responded made his heart beat a little faster. He felt a strange pull, a kind of anticipation he didn’t know what to do with.

Mingi’s gaze dropped for a moment, almost unconsciously, toward Yunho’s lips. The thought was barely there — fleeting and ridiculous — but it lingered just long enough for Mingi to notice, long enough to make his throat dry. He froze, eyes snapping back up to Yunho’s face. His friend was watching him closely, too closely, as if waiting for something.

The room felt too quiet, too small.

“Maybe this isn’t as easy as we thought,” Mingi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now, thick with the weight of the unspoken. The words came out heavier than he intended, laced with something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something he had never acknowledged until now.

The moment stretched, hanging between them like a fragile thread that could snap at any second. Mingi didn’t know what was happening, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning just a little closer. His heart was pounding now, loud in his ears, his breath shallow. He felt the pull between them — the one he’d been ignoring for too long.

The space between them was almost non-existent now. The tension, the quiet, the charged air — it was all too much, too thick to ignore anymore. Mingi’s mind raced, his pulse quickening as the seconds ticked by. His body moved before his brain could catch up, and for a moment, he wasn’t thinking at all.

All he could focus on was Yunho — the warmth of his body, the way their breathing had synchronised, the way the silence wasn’t just silence anymore.

It was waiting.

The space between them felt suffocating now, even though there was hardly any left. Mingi could hear his heartbeat in his ears, every breath he took feeling louder than it should. Yunho was so close, close enough that Mingi could make out the faint outline of his face in the darkness, the tension in his jaw, the way his lips were parted ever so slightly, like he was on the edge of saying something. But he didn’t.

Instead, Yunho just stared at him, eyes dark and unreadable. Mingi tried to look away, tried to make it casual, but his body wasn’t responding the way he wanted it to. His throat was dry, his pulse was racing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Something he wasn’t sure he could stop.

The silence between them stretched painfully, and Mingi opened his mouth to say something, anything to break the tension. But before he could, Yunho shifted, moving just a little closer — so close that Mingi could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin.

Mingi froze.

Yunho’s hand brushed against his arm, slow and deliberate this time, and Mingi’s heart stuttered. He didn’t know if it was intentional, but the touch lingered just long enough to send a shiver down Mingi’s spine. The air in the closet was thick with anticipation, and for a second, Mingi thought about pulling back, about saying something to snap them out of this strange, charged moment. But he didn’t.

Instead, Yunho’s hand slid up Mingi’s arm, his fingers curling around his wrist, holding him there. The touch was gentle, and careful, but there was something behind it, something deeper that Mingi hadn’t expected. He swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the heat between them, the way Yunho’s fingers tightened just slightly around his wrist.

Yunho’s voice broke the silence, low and husky. “Mingi.”

The sound of his name in the dark, said in that tone, sent a bolt of electricity through him. Mingi’s breath caught, and he didn’t trust himself to respond. He was too focused on Yunho’s hand, on the way his thumb brushed lightly over his skin, a simple, almost innocent gesture that was sending Mingi’s stomach into a full-blown gymnastics routine.

Mingi shifted, not pulling away but not moving closer either. His mind was spinning, trying to process what was happening. This was Yunho. His best friend. But the way Yunho was looking at him now, the way his hand lingered on Mingi’s wrist — it wasn’t platonic at all.

Yunho leaned in, just a little, testing the distance between them. His face was so close now that Mingi could feel the soft brush of his breath against his lips, and for a moment, the world outside the closet ceased to exist. There was no laughter from their friends, no muffled music. There was only Yunho, the weight of his gaze, the slow, deliberate way he was closing the space between them.

Mingi’s heart pounded, and he wasn’t sure what to do. His body was tense, every muscle ready to do something, but he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. His eyes flicked to Yunho’s mouth, just for a second, and that was all it took.

Yunho closed the distance between them in one smooth motion, his lips brushing against Mingi’s, tentative at first, almost like he wasn’t sure if Mingi would pull away. But Mingi didn’t pull away. The kiss was soft, and careful, just a whisper of contact, but it felt like lightning crackling through Mingi’s veins.

He froze for a split second, his mind catching up with his body, but then he kissed Yunho back.

The hesitation disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Mingi found himself leaning into the kiss, his body moving without thinking. His hand, still trapped in Yunho’s grip, tightened around Yunho’s wrist, pulling him closer. Yunho responded immediately, his lips pressing more firmly against Mingi’s, the kiss deepening as the tension between them snapped.

It was like they had been holding back for too long, the slow build-up of tension finally breaking free. Mingi’s free hand found its way to Yunho’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled him closer. The kiss grew more intense, more urgent, and Mingi’s head spun with the realisation of what was happening. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It wasn’t just a kiss.

Yunho’s hand moved from Mingi’s wrist, sliding up his arm to rest against his neck, fingers curling against his skin as he tilted Mingi’s head back slightly, deepening the kiss. Mingi let out a quiet sound, something between surprise and surrender, as his body melted into the touch. He could feel Yunho’s breath against his lips, could taste the faint hint of alcohol on his tongue, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

The kiss wasn’t tentative anymore. It was messy, and heated, a clash of lips and breath as they both gave in to the moment. Mingi’s heart was racing, his mind spinning, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t want to stop. His hand slipped from Yunho’s chest to his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled Yunho closer, their bodies pressed together in the tight space of the closet.

Yunho let out a soft sound, something between a sigh and a groan, as his hand slid from Mingi’s neck to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened again, their lips moving together in a way that felt natural like they had done this a thousand times before.

Mingi’s head was spinning, the heat between them overwhelming, and for a moment, he forgot everything else. He forgot about the game, about their friends waiting outside. He forgot about the fact that this was Yunho, his best friend. All that mattered was the way Yunho’s body felt against his, the way their mouths moved together, the way the tension that had been building between them for years had finally broken free.

Mingi pulled back for a second, just enough to catch his breath, but his hand stayed on Yunho’s waist, his fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t want to let go.

Yunho’s breath was ragged, his forehead resting against Mingi’s for a moment as they both tried to catch up with what had just happened. Neither of them spoke, the silence between them thick with the weight of what they had just done. Mingi could feel Yunho’s breath against his lips, could still taste the kiss on his tongue, and he knew there was no going back from this.

Mingi’s chest heaved, breaths coming out shallow as he leaned into Yunho. The heat between them was suffocating, the closeness almost too much, but Mingi couldn’t pull away. His mind was racing, struggling to catch up with what was happening — what they were doing. He felt Yunho’s breath, still so close, still charged with the electricity from their kiss.

Yunho’s hand was still in Mingi’s hair, his fingers threading through the strands. Mingi’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out any of the noise from outside the closet. The world had shrunk down to just them, just the sound of their breathing, the warmth of Yunho’s body against his.

Neither of them moved for a moment. They were both breathing heavily, the intensity of the kiss still hanging in the air between them. Mingi could feel the rise and fall of Yunho’s chest under his hand, the steady rhythm of his heart pounding against his ribs, matching the frantic pace of Mingi’s own heartbeat.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick with meaning, heavy with the weight of what had just happened, and what was still happening.

Then Yunho moved.

It was subtle at first, just a shift in the way his thumb brushed along Mingi’s jawline, but it sent a ripple of electricity through Mingi’s entire body. His breath hitched, his fingers flexing against Yunho’s waist as the sensation shot through him. 

Yunho’s hand slid from Mingi’s hair back to his neck, his fingers warm against Mingi’s skin as they traced the line of his jaw. Mingi’s pulse raced beneath Yunho’s touch, his body reacting to every slight movement, every brush of skin. His mind raced, thoughts a tangled mess of desire and confusion, but his body moved instinctively.

Yunho’s fingers trailed down the side of Mingi’s neck, brushing over his collarbone, sending another shiver through him. Mingi couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped his lips, something between a sigh and a groan. Yunho paused for just a moment, his breath catching at the sound, and Mingi could feel the tension snap.

Before Mingi could think, Yunho was kissing him again.

Yunho shifted slightly, his lips brushing against Mingi’s once more, a slow, delicious touch that sent a shiver down Mingi’s spine. It wasn’t hesitant this time — it was deliberate. Mingi’s breath hitched as Yunho’s fingers tightened slightly around his neck, pulling him closer again, and before Mingi could think, could process what this meant, he was kissing Yunho back with the same intensity as before.

Mingi’s body responded immediately, his hand sliding up Yunho’s chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath his palm. His fingers curled into the fabric of Yunho’s shirt, pulling him closer, needing more — more contact, more heat, more of Yunho. The kiss deepened almost immediately, their lips parting as Mingi felt Yunho’s tongue brush against his. It was a slow burn at first, a careful exploration, but the intensity grew with each passing second. Mingi’s body responded without thinking, his hips rocking forward to brush up against the other.

Yunho groaned softly into the kiss, his free hand tugging at the waistband of Mingi’s pants, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together in the tight space of the closet. The heat was overwhelming, the tension that had been building for years finally snapping in a way neither of them could control.

Mingi’s mind was spinning, thoughts tangled and incoherent. All he could focus on was Yunho — the way his mouth felt, the way his body fit against Mingi’s like they had done this a thousand times before. The kiss grew hungrier, more desperate, as if they were both afraid to stop, afraid that the moment would slip away if they did.

Mingi’s mind was spinning, the weight of Yunho’s body pressed against him, the taste of his lips — everything was too much and not enough at the same time.

Yunho’s hands were everywhere, moving from Mingi’s neck down to his back, fingers pressing into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. Mingi let out a soft sound, his body arching into Yunho’s touch as he pressed their hips together, the friction sending a wave of heat through him.

“Yunho...” Mingi breathed, his voice barely audible between kisses.

Yunho didn’t respond with words — he didn’t need to. The way he pulled Mingi impossibly closer, the way his hands moved with purpose, spoke louder than anything he could have said. Mingi’s heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing as Yunho’s hand slid down to his waist, fingers slipping under the fabric of his shirt to begin exploring his skin, the touch of his skin against Mingi’s sending a shockwave through his core.

Mingi gasped at the contact, his breath catching as Yunho’s fingers took a moment to brush over his happy trail, slow but deliberate. The heat between them was unbearable now, the tension reaching a breaking point that neither of them could ignore. Mingi’s own hands moved instinctively, fingers curling into Yunho’s shirt, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, their mouths moving together with a kind of urgency that felt like it had been building forever.

The space between them disappeared completely. Their bodies pressed together so tightly that Mingi could feel every line of Yunho’s frame against his own. It wasn’t enough — he wanted more. Needed more.

Mingi’s hands moved, sliding up to Yunho’s neck, then to his jaw as he angled Yunho’s face, deepening the kiss. He felt Yunho respond immediately, his body melting into Mingi’s as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate with every passing second. 

Yunho’s hands slipped lower, skimming the edge of Mingi’s jeans, and Mingi’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel Yunho’s fingers trembling slightly, but the touch was confident, sure.

“Mingi,” Yunho whispered, his voice rough and low, his breath hot against Mingi’s ear. The sound of his name like that, in Yunho’s voice, sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

Mingi groaned, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. He pushed Yunho back against the closet door, his hands slipping under Yunho’s shirt, fingers skimming the hard lines of his stomach as he pressed his lips to Yunho’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin. Yunho’s breath hitched, his hands gripping Mingi’s hips, pulling him closer as their bodies pressed together, every inch of space between them vanishing.

The kiss was frantic now, the air thick with heat and the heavy scent of sweat and cologne. Mingi’s fingers fumbled with the hem of Yunho’s shirt, tugging it up, desperate to feel more of him. Yunho responded with the same intensity, his hands gripping Mingi’s hips, pulling him flush against him, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt too perfect. Mingi groaned into the kiss, his fingers sliding under Yunho’s shirt, the heat of his skin searing against his palm as he explored the lines of Yunho’s stomach.

Mingi’s heart pounded wildly as his hands moved higher, pushing Yunho’s shirt up, needing to feel more of him, to know every inch of him. The sensation of Yunho’s bare skin beneath his fingers was intoxicating, and Mingi’s head spun with it.

Yunho’s breath hitched as Mingi’s hands slid up his chest, his fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. His body was warm, firm, and the way Yunho reacted to every touch only fueled the fire burning inside Mingi. He wanted to memorise every inch of him, to burn this moment into his memory.

There was no hesitation anymore. No space for second-guessing. The desire between them was overwhelming, and consuming, and Mingi wasn’t sure where he ended and Yunho began. All he knew was that he didn’t want to stop — couldn’t stop.

Yunho’s hands returned to Mingi’s waistband, fingers dexterously unbuttoning his jeans to slip his fingers beneath the fabric, and Mingi felt a fire building inside him, threatening to consume him whole.

“Yunho,” Mingi breathed again, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. He didn’t know what he was asking for, didn’t know if he was asking for anything at all. All he knew was that he wanted more. Needed more.

“Mingi,” Yunho breathed, his voice rough, low, the sound sending a shiver through Mingi’s entire body. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a plea, but it didn’t matter. The way Yunho said his name, the way his hands moved, the way his lips found Mingi’s again — all of it was enough to make Mingi forget everything else.

Yunho responded with another kiss, this one rougher, more desperate than before. His fingers slipped beneath Mingi’s boxers, electricity swelling in Mingi’s core as he groaned into the kiss, his body arching into Yunho’s touch. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between them growing unbearable as their hands moved over each other, no longer caring about the confined space or the fact that their friends were just outside.

There was no turning back. Mingi felt that now, as he surrendered completely to the moment, to Yunho.

But they couldn’t go too far. Seven minutes was not long enough for what Mingi wanted Yunho to do to him. Next time he’ll request a whole seven hours.

Yunho’s lips moved from Mingi’s mouth to his jaw, trailing soft kisses down his neck, the sensation sending jolts of electricity through Mingi’s entire body. He gasped, his head tilting back, giving Yunho more access as his hands gripped Yunho’s shoulders, holding on as the heat between them grew hotter, and more intense.

“Wait,” Mingi whispered through a gasp, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of Yunho’s jeans, his movements hurried, desperate, as his body ached for more, needing more of Yunho, needing to feel everything. “Let me…”

Yunho let out a low groan, almost in protest as Mingi pulled away. Mingi just grinned, another jolt of electricity shooting through his veins before he dropped to his knees. If they couldn’t fuck, Mingi would be damn sure to get his fix of Yunho one way or another.

He’d be a liar to say he hadn’t thought about his friend’s cock in a less-than-platonic manner before, but even then he hadn’t imagined his perverted little delusions could ever materialise in front of his very eyes.

As he tugged at Yunho’s pants he could barely contain his own moan as he watched the way it sprung from beneath the fabric — ready and impatiently waiting for him.

At this point, Yunho seemed to have forgotten about their friends outside. Mingi felt a short, sharp sting in his scalp as the beautiful hands of his best friend tugged in his desire. Mingi was convinced his insides had turned entirely upside down from the eye contact. But nothing could prepare him for the next words out of Yunho’s mouth.

“Come on, princess. Fill your pretty mouth up.” His voice was low and husky with lust. Mingi had never seen anything like it before but he didn’t hesitate to comply.

His lips found Yunho’s tip immediately, pressing sweet kisses to catch the bead of precum threatening to drip down onto the floor — what a waste that would be. Mingi’s lips parted enough to let his tongue run a stick stripe from the base of the cock back up to his tip before taking the head between his lips.

The grip on his hair tightened and Yunho’s eyes were dark with desire as they met each other’s gaze — prompting Mingi to suck gently as he took in a couple of inches more, teasingly slowly in the hopes Yunho might be a little aggressive.

His wish was granted. Yunho could barely last a few more seconds before he gripped tighter onto Mingi’s hair and began rocking his hips at a slower pace. Mingi took a few moments to match his pace, wrapping a hand around what his mouth hadn’t reached yet to ensure his Yunho was reaching peak pleasure. Based on the low groans and breaths, he was doing just that.

It wasn’t long before Mingi could feel the euphoric feeling of the tip of Yunho’s cock hitting the back of his throat, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled just slightly for air. But the need to satisfy Yunho was stronger than his need to breathe, he couldn’t pull himself away no matter how many times he gagged on him. Spit had pooled around his tongue, spilling down onto his chin as Yunho used his mouth as he pleased. All Mingi could do was moan and suck, enjoying the taste of Yunho’s heated desire — for him. 

All for him.

After a few moments, Mingi pulled back just enough for Yunho’s cock to leave his lips with a small ‘pop’ and an involuntary gasp came from him as his lungs scrambled to fill up with oxygen again. He didn’t neglect his task, though, wiping the spot from his own chin to begin stroking Yunho in a quick rhythm.

“Fuck, Mingi…” Yunho’s head tilted back against the closet door and Mingi relished the sight of seeing his friend come undone like this in front of him, because of him.

He gave a few more kitten licks as a slight tease. “Want you to cum for me… please,” he whined, taking Yunho’s cock back into his mouth before he could get a response.

At some point, Mingi felt his eyes roll back for a moment — whether from how hard Yunho had begun to fuck into his throat searching for his high or from how overwhelmingly unreal it all felt. Yunho. He was sucking Yunho’s dick.

“That’s it, princess,” Yunho grunted, his free hand caressing Mingi’s cheek, his other hand still firmly gripping his hair. “Don’t make a mess, I want you to take it all.”

Mingi could only whimper in his compliance, begging with his eyes as he looked up at Yunho. He gagged again as a particular thrust caught the back of his throat in a certain way, but this was enough to send Yunho over the edge. Before Mingi could recover properly, he felt a warmth in his mouth, the pulsing of the cock buried deep in his throat sent another body-wracking shiver through him. Pure bliss.

He tried his best to drink every drop he was given as if it were his last, a deep fear driving him to savour it. This might never happen again, he wasn’t going to waste it.

Finally, Yunho slipped out from between Mingi’s lips and Mingi clipped the string of spit still connecting them with his tongue, giggling slightly in his drunken daze. Yunho collapsed against the door again, catching his breath before tucking himself away and kneeling down to meet Mingi’s eyes.

“You were so good for me,” Yunho spoke softly now, the deep husk to his voice no longer there as he caressed Mingi’s face sweetly. “My princess, my Mingi.”

Their lips met in a passionate clash once more, Mingi letting Yunho taste himself and lapping up the soft moans of his friend as he did. Only then did Mingi realise his own heat had subsided and for a moment he was confused.

Until he felt the stickiness in his own pants. He’d cum from merely sucking Yunho off. Feeling Yunho, hearing Yunho, seeing Yunho have such a deep need for him, using him to get off like that. Fuck, it was hot.

The air in the closet was thick, their bodies still pressed together as they came down from the intensity of what had just happened. Mingi’s breathing was shallow, his heart still racing in his chest. He could feel Yunho’s forehead resting against his, their breaths mingling in the small, dark space, both of them trying to catch up with the gravity of what they’d just done.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The heat between them was still there, lingering in the aftermath of the moment, but something else had settled in — something heavier, more complicated. Mingi’s fingers were still curled in the fabric of Yunho’s shirt, unwilling to let go just yet. Yunho’s hands were still resting on Mingi’s face, his grip softening but not retreating.

Mingi didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to make sense of what had just happened. This wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to laugh it off, make a joke about how dumb the game was, and go back to the party like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

He could hear the muffled sounds of their friends still talking and laughing on the other side of the door, oblivious to what had just gone down. It felt like a completely different world out there — one that Mingi wasn’t sure how to step back into after this. After Yunho.

Yunho was the first to pull away, just slightly, his hands slipping from Mingi’s cheeks. Mingi felt the loss of contact immediately, the cool air brushing against his skin where Yunho’s fingers had just been. Yunho didn’t move far, though — just enough to look at him, their faces still close, their breaths still mingling in the tight space.

“Mingi,” Yunho breathed, his voice low, a little shaky this time. There was something in his tone — something that mirrored the confusion Mingi felt, the uncertainty hanging between them.

Mingi swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “Yeah?”

Yunho didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched Mingi’s face, as if trying to gauge what came next, what they were supposed to do now that they had crossed a line they could never uncross. Mingi’s pulse thudded in his ears, his mind still spinning, but he didn’t pull away either.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of what they’d just done, what they both knew was waiting for them outside that door.

Finally, Yunho let out a slow breath, his fingers trailing along Mingi’s arm, the touch lighter now, hesitant. “We should probably... get out of here,” he murmured, his voice laced with something unreadable.

Mingi nodded, even though every part of him wanted to stay in that closet a little longer, to hold onto the moment before they had to face the real world again. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Yeah, we should.”

They both lingered for another second, neither of them willing to make the first move. Then, with a slow exhale, Yunho stepped back, his hand brushing against the doorknob. The sound of the party on the other side seemed louder now, a reminder of the world they were about to step back into, the world where they were supposed to be just friends.

Yunho opened the door slowly, the dim light from the living room spilling into the closet, bathing them both in its soft glow. Mingi blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light as the sounds of their friends’ laughter filled his ears again. For a moment, the world felt disorienting, like he’d stepped out of a dream and into something unfamiliar.

As soon as they emerged, the room exploded with laughter and teasing. “Finally! You took your time!” one of their friends shouted, clearly expecting them to laugh and brush it off. “What were you two doing in there?”

The question hung in the air, laced with sarcasm and humour, but to Mingi, it felt heavier than that. His heart pounded as he glanced at Yunho, who managed a half-smile, playing it cool like nothing had happened. Mingi forced himself to do the same, ignoring the tension still coursing through his body.

“Well, you know,” Yunho said with a shrug, his voice casual, but Mingi could hear the edge beneath it. “It’s hard to count the minutes when you don’t have a clock. We thought one of you would open the door after we lost count.”

The group burst into laughter, completely unaware of what had actually gone down in that closet. Mingi grinned along with them, his own laugh coming out a little strained, but no one seemed to notice. It was all just a game to them — a harmless, silly game.

But Mingi knew better. So did Yunho.

As they returned to their spots in the room despite Mingi’s situation. He felt the weight of Yunho’s gaze on him, but he didn’t dare look back. His mind was racing, still trying to process everything. He could still feel Yunho’s hands on him, still taste the kiss on his lips, and every time he thought about it, his heart skipped a beat.

The night continued around them, their friends oblivious to the shift that had happened in the closet, to the way Mingi’s body still hummed with the remnants of what had just happened. But there was no going back.

Mingi could feel it in the way Yunho’s knee brushed against his under the table, in the way their eyes met for a brief second before Yunho looked away, his expression carefully neutral.

They could play it off for now. They could pretend like nothing had changed in front of their friends. But Mingi knew that the real conversation was still waiting for them. That what had happened in the closet was just the beginning, and sooner or later, they would have to face it.

But not tonight.