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In Jackson Wang’s living room, which is decorated beautifully with garland dusted in sparkles, boxes and bows, and the occasional “sexy Santa” picture hanging on the wall for extra merry-and-gay (emphasis on gay) measure, Kibum is reminded, startlingly, of why he doesn’t leave the house with Choi Minho.
“You’re…what?” Changsub asks, shaking his head sideways like he’s trying to dislodge something, because surely he heard him wrong.
“We’re trying for a baby,” Minho repeats, just as confidently. His hand on Kibum’s waist tightens, like he knows Kibum is down to three options: 1. Run and pretend he does not know this man, 2. Kill him, or 3. Dissociate.
Minho has made one unlikely with his death grip. Two is appealing, but he needs to make a silicone mold of his dick before he finally beats him over the head with a shovel and feeds him to Comme Des and Garçons, so that one will require some premeditation. It seems like option three is the only way to go, since he can’t very well yell at Minho in the middle of a fancy-campy Christmas party.
Well, he can. But they practically just walked in, and he doesn’t want to cause a scene this early on in the night.
Changsub looks at Kibum like maybe he has the answers. Kibum gives Changsub a panicked look, like he’s begging him to just let it go and not ask, then whips his head to the side to glare daggers at Minho. Minho just smiles down at him, all boyish, charming, and heart-melting. Too damn bad, because the only thing melting right now is Kibum’s patience.
“Are you looking for surrogates?” Changsub asks, clearly ignoring Kibum’s help me and drop it look.
“We’re not,” Kibum hisses, nudging Minho in the side with his elbow as hard as he can without causing a scene. Minho barely budges. Dumb big hot strong hunk of muscle.
“Then why—” Changsub starts, before Kany pokes her head into the conversation.
Finally, Kibum thinks. His actual best friend, unlike Changsub or idiot Minho, both of whom seem determined to ruin his life right now. Kany, surely, will be on his side.
“You’re looking for a surrogate?!” Kany shouts, her brilliant smile and wide eyes on display for the whole room that has now turned to look at them. Fuck.
Before Kibum can even think, they’re swarmed by a hoard of party-goers. Kibum is dizzy with how many people are fighting to be heard at once, all of them patting him on the shoulder or bringing Minho in for a one-armed hug. Some of them are asking how that would work, logistically, with idol life. Most of them are cheering and clinking champagne glasses against the one in Kibum's practically limp hand.
“We’re really not—” Kibum tries again, feeling hysterical. How did this get so out of hand so fast?
“But Minho said you’re trying for a baby,” Changsub pipes in.
“We are,” Minho reaffirms with a nod, smiling down at Kibum and giving him a kiss at the top of his head. Kibum shoves at his chest, trying to get away. Still no luck, damn.
“We are not! Oh my god, Choi Minho I swear to God—”
“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” “Do you have names picked out?” “Where are you applying? Korea? America?” “Kibum would love to have a baby girl!” “No way, he admitted he’s not sure about women’s fashion!” “Minho could coach her on a soccer team!”
There are so many people talking that he can’t even get a word in edgewise. Kibum can feel Minho shaking by his side, small snickers that only Kibum can hear over the white noise of all their friends planning a future for a baby that does not and probably will never exist.
Kibum is never letting him out of the house again. He can be a 24/7 pet sitter for his dogs from now on. Clearly, that’s the only solution.
“Will you two have to move in together to raise her?”
Oh. They’ve already assigned a gender to their hypothetical baby. Lovely.
“I’m never living with him again,” Kibum groans, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling, praying he’ll get sucked up into the mistletoe he’s standing under like some kind of Christmas miracle.
As it stands, he just gets his idiot boyfriend invading his field of vision and placing a quick kiss to his lips.
“So you’ll have joint custody? Is that really the best for her?” Taeyeon asks, and when Kibum looks back down from the ceiling to see her, she’s got a hand on her chin, like she’s really thinking hard about this.
“Yeah, Choi Minho, is that really going to be best?” He asks with a sarcastic edge, glaring at Minho and daring him to answer. He hasn’t offered any clarification yet, just let the room run wild with assumptions. Hell, even Kibum doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He has a sneaking suspicion Minho is doing it to get a rise out of him, because his life’s mission is tormenting Kibum at any chance he gets.
“We’ll figure it out, jagiya,” Minho replies, a twinkle in his eye as he kisses Kibum’s temple. So many kisses. They really need to move away from this damn mistletoe. “Love conquers all, you know?”
Kibum groans like he really is being tortured, and rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he can see his frontal lobe. “There’s no way to figure it out, Minho!” Kibum hisses. “We’re not having a baby!”
The excited chatter dies down for a blessed second, before the room erupts into confusion. Because no one can leave him alone for a second, apparently. And it’s all Choi Minho’s fault.
“Is Minho looking alone?” “Was this supposed to be a Christmas gift announcement?” “Kibum hates surprises, though, and this would be a life-changing one.” “Wouldn’t Minho know better than anyone if Kibum wants a baby?” “Minho isn’t a liar and he wouldn’t just do that to Kibum!” “Kibum, what’s going on?”
All eyes are on them. It’s eerie how silent they all get at the same time. Their gazes are shifting between himself and Minho, like a hoard of red and green zombies. Look, the girls and the gays love a theme, and it’s Christmas. If Kibum shows up in a red fur-trimmed pleated half-skirt over his pants, that’s just the theme. He is not the Mrs. Claus to Minho’s matching Santa-inspired ensemble.
Kibum thinks back to when he saw Minho walk into his house to pick him up in the outfit Kibum decided on for him. At the time, he debated just telling everyone he caught something and wouldn’t be able to make it. The red coat is tailored to emphasize Minho’s trim waist perfectly, and he doesn’t even want to talk about the leather pants encasing Minho’s long legs.
He really wishes he had just fucked Minho into a coma and shown up alone, in hindsight.
Kibum clears his throat and tries to come up with a plan to get out of this unscathed. He still glances at Minho, hoping he’ll jump in because again, Kibum has no fucking clue what is going through Minho’s head.
“Sorry to disappoint, but we’re definitely not looking for a surrogate,” Kibum says, “but we might be getting a divorce if you don’t explain yourself, Choi Minho.”
Minho shrugs, smiling. His toothy grin hasn’t wavered since he decided to turn this party into a public humiliation ritual. “We’re doing what other couples do when they’re trying to have a baby.”
Minho’s big, pretty, innocent doe eyes turned on him in all their sparkling glory is not going to save his ass this time.
“You mean unprotected sex?” Jinki hesitantly asks, and Kibum considers bashing his own head against Minho’s bicep. He could probably knock himself out that way, it’s firm enough.
Minho nods enthusiastically, and Kibum tries not to scream.
“Choi Minho, I cannot believe—”
“Hyung! In front of my cookie?” Taemin whines, holding out a headless snowman for them to see.
“Taeminnie, you bit off its ears; I think its innocence was spared,” Kibum hears the simultaneous resignation and despair in his own voice. The point of no return for his sanity and dignity was approximately seven minutes ago.
Taeyeon sighs, disappointed. “So I’m not going to be a godmother?”
“You’re already the godmother to Comme Des and Garçons, don’t be greedy. Kany needs her chance, too,” Kibum replies, then promptly shuts his fucking mouth because oh no—
“So you are going to have a kid?” Hyoyeon interjects, a mischievous smile on her face because she knows damn well that is not what he meant.
“No! I just—”
“Can I teach her to dance?” Kany asks, and again with gendering his hypothetical baby. Really, they’re in a room where all the paintings are of Santa kissing Krampus and all the sexy elves in attendance are men in drag. They should be more progressive than this.
“I want to teach her to dance!” Taemin pipes in, and Kibum shoots him down immediately.
“You are not teaching my baby to dance! Actually, you’re not allowed near my baby until they’re at least fifteen—” he can’t even be blamed for taking part, at this point. Taemin is a lot of things, but babysitting material is not one of them in any capacity. Fictional or real.
“Kibummie, she needs to meet her uncle Taeminnie sooner than that!” Minho whines, squeezing his waist and shooting pleading eyes to him.
“She can meet him before she knows what words are, but he is not holding her. Golden hands are not going to drop my baby.”
“Don’t be so harsh on him! I’m sure he’ll be a great uncle! And Jinki-hyung can supervise!”
“Oh, so we need a babysitter for our babysitter? You’ve just got this all planned out, don’t you?”
“Wait, I thought you just said you weren’t having a kid?” Changsub interjects, and that snaps Kibum right out of hypothetical-mother mode.
“We’re not!” Kibum has the urge to stomp his foot like a child. He shouldn’t even be in this position. This is all stupid Choi Minho’s fault, as are most of the woes in his life.
“You sound like you want to have a kid, Kibummie,” Taemin says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I wouldn’t mind babysitting. Can I teach her how to sing?” Jinki asks, smiling. Kibum shouldn’t be surprised, he roomed with Minho the longest. Of course he’s enjoying this. They all live to torture him, clearly.
“She’ll have a beautiful voice, since both of her dads are good singers. That’s probably genetic, right?” Taeyeon hums, clearly thinking hard about this. Definitely not hard enough, because:
“She can’t even have both of our genes! We’d have to decide who gets to be the father, and I’m sure as hell not letting another Minho run around out there.”
Minho pouts down at him, “You don’t want a mini-me running around?”
“Absolutely not,” Kibum hisses.
Minho laughs, staccato and dad-like. Of course he has a dad-laugh. Of course Kibum is thinking of him in dad-like contexts now, because of this stupid conversation.
“It’s okay, they’re studying how to make a baby with two fathers’ DNA now, Kibummie! Our baby will just be a cute little mix of both of us,” he gushes, then presses another kiss to Kibum’s forehead. Away. He’s got to get away from this mistletoe. Or away from Minho, in general.
“A baby with both of your DNA would probably cause a rip in the space-time continuum,” Hyoyeon says, and Taemin gets that look in his eye that makes Kibum think that maybe this is their chance to escape.
“Noona! Did you know scientists found out the universe might actually be in a black hole, meaning Einstein’s models need to be adjusted and—”
In the split second that Taemin captures everyone’s unwilling attention, Kibum grabs Minho by the arm and makes a break for it. He doesn’t know Jackson Wang’s house that well, but the goal is really to get his ass out of the main living area and into a nice hiding spot so no one can hunt them down to ask more questions about their non-existent baby.
Several halls, a few rooms, and some strained-yet-polite smiles at people waving at him later, Kibum deems themselves safe enough to finally stop their mad dash through Jackson’s deceptively large house. The whole way there, all he can hear is Minho snickering behind him.
Kibum opens the nearest door and yanks Minho inside. He wasn’t really looking for any specific room, but he supposes a bathroom is as good a place as any to tear Minho a new one. It helps that it's a rather nice bathroom; big, and just as campy-Christmas themed as the rest of the house is right now.
He chugs the champagne he’d held onto throughout the house, and practically slams it down on the counter. When he looks up at Minho’s mirthful eyes peeking above his own glass, Kibum glares at him and snatches it from his grasp to chug that one, too. Lord knows he needs it, and Minho’s going to need to beg Chris Kringle himself to escape tonight unscathed.
“What the fuck was that!?” Kibum hisses, slamming Minho’s glass on the bathroom counter beside his own.
Minho laughs, loud and resembling Santa himself as he leans back and holds his belly through it. All that’s missing is a ho, ho, ho to complete the scene. If Minho did that, Kibum would probably decide the silicone mold of his dick isn’t necessary and would kill him, anyway.
“I’m serious!” Kibum swats his arm. “You’d better have a damn good reason for humiliating me in front of all our friends.”
Minho’s chuckles subside, and he pouts at Kibum. That is propaganda Kibum is not going to fall for, no matter how kissable his plump lips look pushed out like that, or how big and pretty his eyes are when he’s got the full force of them locked onto Kibum.
“It’s not humiliating when a straight couple says it,” Minho points out, and Kibum groans.
“Yes, because they actually can get pregnant!”
Minho brings his hands up to Kibum’s arms and starts firmly rubbing them up and down, trying to soothe him. He lets him do it, because it feels good, even though it’s not getting him out of this. “But they’re just announcing they’re having a lot of sex with their partner. They don’t always know they can get pregnant, and they still say they’re trying before they’ve done any medical tests!”
“Okay, and? I’m really failing to see a good reason for me to not feed you to my dogs when we get home.” Kibum raises a brow at him, hoping the threat lands.
“Other people get to brag about their partners. I want to brag about you in every way I can,” Minho says, and dammit, Kibum hates how earnest he sounds.
Kibum scoffs, pulling himself away from Minho’s grasp. “Everyone knows we’re fucking; you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to tell them, and I don’t think they want to know details!" He doesn't mention how they all know because most of the people in that room have, at one point, walked in on them in a compromising position. He thinks when he’s begging God to let him into those pearly white gates, he’ll have every pair of shocked eyes that had to see him glued in some way to Minho’s cock flash before his eyes. He’s not looking forward to explaining that to the big guy upstairs.
“I just wanted to say it,” he says with a pout and big doe eyes. He’s so cute, Kibum wants to hit him for putting him in this position. “Besides, it isn’t like you haven’t told a room full of people, and I quote, ‘that guy bent me over and fucked me into next week,’ about one of your flings.”
Kibum feels his face go up in flames, and moves to cover Minho’s mouth. Not that anyone can hear them from inside the bathroom, he hopes. “Shut up! Oh my God, I was in my twenties!”
He feels Minho’s pout deepen from beneath his hands as his brows furrow. He moves Kibum’s hands away from his mouth, and Kibum feels a little bad when Minho says, “But it’s okay when it’s another guy? Why can’t I let people know I’m the luckiest man in the world, too? You’ve bragged about other guys before…”
Kibum can cave, for a second at least. He places a hand on the nape of Minho’s neck and gently strokes the soft skin and fine hair there. Minho really is so annoyingly pretty right now, pouting at Kibum and jealous. “Clearly they didn’t last, and you have. You think anyone’s doubting if you’re giving it to me just the way I like it?” Kibum rolls his eyes. “Really, Minho, You don’t need to publicly humiliate me to get that point across.”
Minho shuffles forward a few steps and places his hands on Kibum’s waist, squeezing gently. “I don’t think it’s humiliating,” he breathes, and why is there suddenly a heat that wasn’t there before to his voice? Kibum swallows the lump in his throat.
He tries to keep being mad, despite giving in just to comfort Minho for a second there. Minho still did something that caused a huge scene and embarrassed the everloving fuck out of him. He knows he’s not living this down anytime soon, and yet…
Minho’s hand moves from his waist to his belly, where it’s flat and soft from his lack of abs. Minho strokes over the fabric of his shirt, then presses slightly. “It’s not humiliating to think of you so full of my cum we defy biology.”
And yet, he thinks he’s going to kill Minho, anyway. Big dick be damned.
He slaps Minho’s hand away and backs up, right into the counter. Minho follows and corners him, bracing his hands on either side of the sink to trap Kibum. He starts nosing at the sensitive skin along Kibum’s neck, and he feels his own breath hitch in response.
“Can you not be embarrassing for like, five seconds?” Kibum groans, but hates himself because why does it still somehow work on him? His face is on fire and he really wants to push Minho away for saying something so weird, but he also wants to press against Minho. Wants to let his strong, warm body overwhelm his senses in the best way.
He kind of wants to test the theory.
He knows it’s impossible, but the idea of Minho fucking him so good, filling him to the brim with cum to the point it somehow becomes some kind of fucked up Christmas miracle, well…it’s tantalizing, to say the least.
Minho must know he’s got him right where he wants him, because he bites lightly at Kibum’s earlobe before whispering, “You’re thinking about it, right?” He presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, then the space just below it. “Of me filling you up, and when you start showing, everyone will know who's cumming inside you every night.”
Kibum whines and weakly pushes at Minho’s chest, groping at his pecs in the process. “Stop, that’s so gross.”
“Every,” he kisses his pulse point, “night. Until you’re pregnant. You’re going to be so round and cute with my baby.”
Kibum shakes his head. “No, I don’t want that,” he gasps when Minho bites at his collarbone. “I’m not gaining weight, I need to fit into my costumes.”
Minho scoffs and pulls away, raising his brow skeptically. “Really? You know you’d have to take a break from intense performances, right?”
“I’m not taking a break throughout the whole pregnancy,” Kibum retorts, just to blush from head to toe. “Why are you nagging me about a hypothetical pregnancy that I’m not going through with?”
“I’m not nagging you, I’m just saying! Intense choreo isn’t good for the baby!” He brings his hand to Kibum’s stomach and gently strokes it for emphasis.
Kibum groans. “There’s no baby for my choreo to be bad for!”
“Not yet,” Minho says with a twinkle in his eye, then swoops in to capture Kibum’s lips with his own.
Kibum will never get enough of Minho’s kisses. It’s unfair when Minho does that, disarms him with plush lips that feel like a precious gift against his own. He waited for them so long that he can hardly be blamed for going hazy at the feeling of them.
Kibum leans into the kiss, but breaks it off before Minho can deepen it. He has a point to prove, after all. “I’m not going on paternity leave until the last trimester.”
“Fine by me,” Minho shrugs, then lifts Kibum onto the counter to keep kissing him.
Kibum threads his hands through Minho’s hair and pulls him in, licking along Minho’s bottom lip and moaning when Minho opens his mouth and pulls Kibum’s hips forward on the counter so they’re grinding against each other. He wraps his legs around Minho's waist to get more friction as the kiss gets wetter, messier. He's licking along the length of Minho's tongue and twisting his own with Minho's while Minho reaches around and slips his hands between Kibum's ass and the counter, giving it a firm squeeze that leaves Kibum panting against Minho's mouth.
Kibum moves a hand behind him on the counter to get better leverage to move against Minho when his hand gently knocks against the stem of the empty champagne glass there. Fuck, he forgot about that. And that he's literally at a party where anyone could walk in or hear them.
Minho doesn’t seem to notice the interruption, just keeps pressing desperate kisses against whatever skin he can reach. It takes everything in Kibum to shove at his chest and make him stop. When Minho finally does, he tilts his head questioningly at Kibum. “Are you okay, jagi?”
“We can't do this, we're in public!” He says, but starts undoing the buttons on Minho's coat, anyway. He’s just a man in love, okay?
“We’re not in public, we’re in a bathroom!”
“Still public enough! What if someone walks in?” Kibum pushes the coat off of Minho’s shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. Minho scowls at him, picks it up, and folds it to set it down on the counter. Then he walks over to the door to lock it.
“Now no one will walk in.”
“They can still hear!” Kibum isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince, because the tight black shirt that was under the coat is really accenting Minho’s broad shoulders, thick arms, and trim waist. Kibum wants to run his hands all over his body.
Minho approaches Kibum and sets his hands on his hips, where he hasn’t moved from his perch on the counter. He leans in, pressing their foreheads together. The fire in his gaze is so intense, Kibum thinks he’s burning.
“Not if you’re quiet,” he breathes, then kisses Kibum.
Kibum lets himself indulge in Minho’s soft lips for a moment before he pushes at his chest again. “The glasses? What if we knock them over!”
Minho groans, but dutifully grabs the champagne glasses from the counter to move them. He makes a show of bending over to set them down in the bathtub. Kibum swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth as he stares at his firm ass. He decides while watching the tantalizing swell of it, fuck it. They’ve had sex in worse, more public places before.
More than anything, more than decency or caution, he needs that man to put a baby in him. Now.
Kibum hops off the counter and starts undoing his pants, leaving the skirt on. Whatever, the front is open, they’ll work with it.
Minho is back in front of him by the time he shimmies them down his hips. He starts frantically working on the buttons of Kibum’s shirt as Kibum kicks his pants off and away, leaving kisses along Kibum’s neck and chest as his skin is revealed inch by inch.
“Been a while since we’ve had to use spit as lube,” Kibum gasps as Minho licks one of his nipples, then bites it gently. He threads his hands through Minho’s hair to keep his head there, basking in the feeling of Minho’s lips and tongue.
When Minho speaks, he feels his lips brushing against his nipple, and shivers at the feeling. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some.”
Kibum’s yanks at Minho’s hair, earning a sharp hiss from him in response. “You what?”
Minho looks at him with those wide, innocent doe eyes, but they are not getting him out of this. “What?”
“You planned this?” Kibum hisses, tugging at Minho’s hair again for good measure and reveling in his wince.
“No! I just like to be prepared!”
“What, prepared to fuck me in inappropriate places?”
Minho rolls his eyes, but continues peeling Kibum’s shirt from his shoulders. “We do it often enough.”
Kibum feels his ears heating up in a blush. “Whose fault is that?”
Minho raises an eyebrow at him, like Kibum is the insane one here. He’s not, thank you very much. Minho is the one carrying lube in his pocket! “Usually, yours. Do you remember SMTown? You shoved me into a closet after we performed because you couldn’t wait to suck me off!”
Kibum groans. It’s true, but… “It is not! That was all you, you were giving me bedroom eyes!”
“You didn’t have to respond!”
“Oh fuck you, Choi Minho.” Kibum says, moving his hands from Minho’s hair to his chest and shoving him so hard he stumbles back. He turns around, bends over so he’s leaning on the counter, and flips his skirt up so it’s pooling at his back. “Just shut up and get me pregnant, already.”
Kibum brings his arms up to rest on the counter, laying his forehead down on them. He hears Minho shuffling around behind him, then feels his clothed cock pressing hard and insistent against his ass. Kibum’s chest is rising and falling rapidly against the cool surface of the counter, and he grinds back against Minho. He’s too pent up for this teasing.
“Hurry up,” he whines, pushing more firmly against Minho and earning a moan for his efforts.
“So impatient…” Minho mumbles, but draws back slightly. Kibum spreads his legs and wiggles his hips, hoping Minho will get with the program and shove his dumb, thick fingers inside him already.
What he gets, instead, is the feeling of a large hand pulling one ass cheek to the side, and then he feels something wet shoot at his hole.
Kibum’s eyes widen in shock as he twists his upper body slightly, and can barely see the top of Minho’s head from where he’s crouched behind him. “Did you just spit on me?”
Minho pops his head up to look back at Kibum. “You’re the one who mentioned it! I realized I haven’t done it in a while.”
“You are not fucking me with spit when you’ve got a perfectly good packet of lube!” Kibum hisses, then gasps when he feels Minho’s fingers stroking along his hole, the slide of them wet, nasty, and so hot with the addition of Minho’s saliva. His cock twitches where it’s already hard against the waistband of the skirt.
“I’m not!” Minho says, defensive, then prods more insistently at Kibum’s hole. “Just for this part.”
Kibum huffs, but he can’t really complain too much when he finally feels one of Minho’s thick fingers slowly slide inside of him. He rests his forehead against his arms again as his mind goes blank at the stretch for a moment. He lets out a moan that is definitely too loud for this situation, but he can’t help it. The spit is barely easing the way, and the tug against his rim feels so good he can hardly stand it.
Minho presses soft kisses against the soft skin of his ass as he slowly fingers him, letting Kibum adjust to the intrusion until he’s whining and shifting his hips impatiently. He adds another finger, and Kibum gasps when Minho finds his prostate and gently pets it.
“Hurry up,” he pants, pushing his hips against his fingers. “You’ve got lube, just put it in already.”
“I barely started!” Minho scissors his fingers a little, trying to stretch Kibum out even more.
“I don’t care! Your fingers aren’t going to put a baby in me, are they?”
He feels Minho’s harsh breaths against his ass, and smirks against his arms. He’s too easy.
“Fuck, Kibummie,” he whispers as he stands up. He hears the quiet sounds of Minho’s zipper coming undone, the metallic tear of the packet of lube. He tries to relax as he spreads his legs even wider. He’s biting his lip in anticipation, just imagining that fat cock inside him. His head is spinning just thinking about it.
He looks behind him, and sees Minho stroking his cock, all shiny and wet with lube, the glide of his hand so easy Kibum whimpers. He presses his ass toward Minho, arching his back and presenting himself like a pretty present for Minho. Anything to get him inside faster.
He watches as Minho bites his lip, his gaze lowered and heavy as he stares at Kibum’s ass. Kibum feels like he can’t breathe, he’s being crushed under Minho’s wanting gaze. He buries his head back against his arms and stifles a whine. It feels so overwhelming, so good, to be this wanted.
Minho’s dry hand comes back to his cheek, squeezing it as he makes room for his wet fingers to spread lube along Kibum’s hole. His breath hitches, because finally. He’s finally going to get what he so desperately needs from Minho. He needs his cock stretching him wide, molding Kibum’s body to fit.
He bites on his arm to keep himself from letting out absolutely humiliating noises when he feels the blunt head of Minho’s perfect dick pressing against his hole. Just as slowly as his annoying ass has been going this whole time, he pushes inside Kibum. He feels all the air leave his lungs at that first push inside, and shuts his eyes against the overwhelming pressure. It’s too much, but so good. They definitely could have prepped more, but Kibum loves it like this, sometimes. He loves when he gets so desperate he forces Minho to let go of some of his caring nature, and just fuck him before it’s entirely comfortable.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Minho gasps once his hips are flush with Kibum’s ass. He feels the scratch of Minho’s zipper against his sensitive skin, and moans, shifting his hips against Minho to get more. More of every sensation — Minho’s cock so deep, filling him up and making it hard to breathe, the leather of Minho’s pants on his overstimulated skin. He shivers when Minho places his hands on his waist and squeezes.
“So hot,” Minho breathes, rolling his hips as he leans down to press a soft kiss to the nape of Kibum’s neck.
Kibum breathes through the stretch, forcing himself to relax so Minho will just get on with it. He needs it hard and fast, right now. “I know, fuck. Tell me something I don’t know,” he gasps, grinding back on Minho’s cock. “Our babies are going to be so cute, God.”
Minho moans, loud and low, and pulls out until just the tip is left inside. Kibum bites on his lip to suppress a whine. It’s useless when Minho shoves his cock back in, hard, aimed right at his fucking prostate in the next second. He practically screams from the shock of it. He spares a brief moment to pray the room outside is loud enough to cover that up.
“You’re going to be so pretty with a pregnancy glow,” Minho pants, picking up speed, hitting Kibum’s prostate dead-on with every thrust. Kibum mewls, starts getting more involved as he shifts his hips along with every thrust in and out from Minho. Minho moves his hands from Kibum’s waist to his stomach, pressing down lightly like he’s imagining it.
Kibum is picturing it, too. Thinks of his little baby bump, proof for everyone to see that Minho fucked him so good they defied biology. The only person who could fuck him that well would be Minho. Their baby would be like the second coming of Christ, or something, with what a miracle it would be. Kibum moans as he thinks of the kind of worship he’d receive. He’d be a religious figure like Mother Mary, except instead of a virgin pregnancy, he just got his ass completely wrecked by his sexy, perfect, amazing boyfriend. Everyone would know it, too.
Kibum contracts around Minho’s cock, squeezing it even tighter as he moans and writhes against him, so far gone in the fantasy he can hardly think anything other than fuck me, get me pregnant, I need it, need you, want you, want your cum want your babies fuck Minho—
“Minho!” He gasps when Minho presses more firmly against his stomach, using his grip on Kibum to pull him hard and fast on his cock. Kibum shifts his position, moving his hands from on top of the counter to gripping the edge for dear life as he shoves himself back on Minho’s cock with every thrust inside. He’s going to force a baby out of that damn cock if it’s the last thing he does.
“Fuck, harder. Need it, need your babies.”
Minho bites the junction between Kibum’s neck and shoulder, like he’s claiming him and Kibum mewls at that. Yes, yes, he needs it. Needs Minho to claim him in every way possible.
“Do you want that, Kibummie? Want me to be the father of your babies?” He whispers against his ear, and gives a particularly hard thrust that feels like too much just as much as it feels too good. Kibum throws his head back, resting it against Minho’s shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yes, fuck. You’ll be such a good dad, oh my god,” he pants. He can see it now, Minho’s wide, proud smile crinkling the edges of his large eyes every time he looks at their little girl. He thinks of what a good dad Minho will be, how much he’ll love their baby, and he gets the most insane sense of baby fever he’s had in his damn life. Because Minho is going to give him a daughter, Minho is going to be the best dad, and—
“Fuck! Daddy, Minho, you’ll be so good, such a good dad. So good for me, oh my God harder!”
Minho groans and does as he’s told, his hot breath fanning against Kibum’s neck with exertion. “That’s right, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s going to get you so pregnant. Fuck.”
Kibum keens, turning his head to press wet, desperate kisses along Minho’s pulse. He feels it thrumming hard and fast against his lips. It definitely matches the frenetic pace of his own heart beat. Minho’s skin is slightly salty with sweat, Kibum is going crazy with the smell and taste of it when he darts his tongue out to lick it. That’s the father of his baby, this gorgeous man who smells and tastes so good. He wants Minho like this every day. They’ll fuck, just like this, until Kibum is round and cute with his baby.
“Give me a baby, come on Minho, Daddy, fuck. Know you want it, know you wanna come inside,” he gasps, scraping his teeth along Minho’s neck, biting gently. He feels Minho shudder against him, hears him gasp. When Minho strokes one hand down from Kibum’s stomach to grasp his cock, Kibum knows Minho’s close, and thank God for that, because Kibum knows he won’t last much longer like this.
Minho’s grip on his cock is tight and fast when he starts stroking him off, and Kibum’s moan bounces and echoes off the walls of the bathroom. He’s past the point of caring if anyone hears them now. Fuck it, they’ve all accidentally seen or heard him on Minho’s dick at this point. It’s just building character in their friend group.
Besides, it won’t make a difference. They’ll know Minho fucked him for damn sure when he has a baby bump.
That’s what does it for him. The claim Minho is staking on him right now, with his breath fanning hot and damp against Kibum’s sweaty temple. With Minho’s lips mouthing at the skin there, telling Kibum he feels so good, that Kibum is so tight there’s no way he won’t keep his cum locked in so well that they have no choice but to get pregnant. The we’re going to have a baby, we’ll be pregnant that Minho pants out.
They’re in this together, a team in every way possible. Together for the rest of their lives, bound even impossibly more than they were before by a baby joining them.
Kibum chokes on a moan as he comes, convulsing against Minho as his hole clenches rhythmically around his cock. Minho shivers against him, his thrusts and the glide of his hand against Kibum’s wet cock growing erratic while he milks Kibum through his orgasm. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me, such a perfect mom for our baby,” he moans, then spills inside of Kibum.
Kibum’s eyes shoot open at the feeling of Minho’s warm cum filling him up, and clenches down even harder, trying to keep anything from spilling out. If he wants to get pregnant, he needs Minho’s cum inside him as long and deep as possible. He’s still hazy-brained from getting fucked like that, still high on the endorphins and fantasy that Minho planted in his head. With Minho’s cock still giving stilted thrusts inside him, he thinks it had to have worked. There’s no way he won’t be pregnant after this.
They stay like that, joined and breathing heavily into the otherwise quiet bathroom. He can hear the muffled chatter of people milling around outside, but with how he feels like his head is full of cotton right now, he barely registers it. It’s white noise to the feeling of Minho’s slowly softening cock inside him, and his body shivering as he comes down from his high.
Minho presses a kiss against his temple, and slowly pulls out. He keeps his hands on Kibum’s stomach, kneading the skin there to hold him up and probably still in the afterglow as Kibum is. Kibum's limbs feel like jelly, where he’s barely able to keep himself up and his arms are shaking against the counter top.
“Are you okay, jagi?” Minho whispers. He’s so sweet, so kind and caring. He really will be the perfect partner to raise a baby with.
Kibum nods, his breath slowing down as he relaxes. As soon as he does, though, he feels Minho’s cum leaking out of him. The reality of what the fuck just happened hits him like a slap to the face.
The only natural reaction is to turn around, and hit Minho against his still-clothed chest. “What the fuck was that, Choi Minho?”
Minho looks surprised at the reaction and holds his hands up placatingly. “What? You wanted it!”
“Aren’t you the ‘overcome it,’ guy?” Kibum practically yells, his voice bouncing off the walls of the bathroom. Definitely too loud, but fuck it. He’s sure every damn person in the other room heard them, anyway. He flushes bright red at the thought.
“I can’t overcome you,” Minho says, pressing a kiss to Kibum’s cheek and grinning when he pulls away. He’s so annoying.
Kibum groans. “Why do you always say the most cringe-worthy things?” He asks, turning back around and grabbing a wad of toilet paper to start cleaning himself up. “I can’t believe you. Remembering lube, but not a condom. Stupid man thinking with his stupid dick.”
“You’re also a man thinking with his dick! And if we used a condom, you wouldn’t get pregnant!” Minho grabs Kibum’s wrist before he can start working on getting the cum out of his ass.
Kibum wants to tear his own hair out, he’s so frustrated. “I can’t get pregnant, anyway!”
“Not if you clean yourself out!”
“Not in any way, anytime soon, until science figures this shit out!” Kibum rips his hand free from Minho’s grasp and starts the arduous task of cleaning up, with no help from his idiot boyfriend.
He can feel Minho’s pout on him from where his back is turned. He feels a little bad, and as he starts scooping cum out of himself and dropping the wet pieces of tissue down the toilet, a quiet insecurity starts growing inside him.
Minho must have picked up on the shift, from playful and irritated to more somber, because he comes closer and presses a soft kiss to Kibum’s shoulder. He runs his fingers along Kibum’s palm, until he relinquishes the piece of toilet paper so Minho can start working on cleaning him up, instead.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks, quiet and soothing. Kibum takes a deep breath, feels the relaxing expansion and contraction of his chest. He leans back against Minho’s firm body, so warm and comforting against his heated skin. He can feel Minho’s warmth even through the shirt Minho never took off.
“Is that something you really want? A family?” He asks, hesitant, quiet. They haven’t really talked about this much. They walked into this relationship knowing the reality: they can’t have kids, even if they both love them, and they might never even be able to get married. The thought stings sometimes, but he came to terms with it a long time ago. He knew that would be his reality from the moment he realized he was gay and what that meant for him.
Minho finishes cleaning him out quietly, then gently holds onto Kibum’s arms so he can turn him around. Minho’s eyes are so pretty. When they’re twinkling in mischief, when they’re sad and hurt, and just as much right now when they’re serious and looking right into Kibum’s. Minho’s gaze is intense, and Kibum wants to drown in it as much as he wants to shy away.
“If it’s what you want, I’d make it happen. If it’s not, then no, I don’t.” He takes Kibum’s hands into his own and presses soft kisses along his palms. “If it’s you, whatever it is, I want it.”
Kibum feels himself get a little choked up, but scoffs anyway as he looks off to the side. He fights off a smile, because Minho is tooth-rottingly sweet and he’s embarrassingly into it, much to his chagrin. “You’re so annoying…Let’s just get out of here and deal with the room full of people who just heard us.”
Minho smiles, the kind that creates little creases at the sides of his impossibly large eyes. Kibum thinks of him in twenty years, and thinks those will be there permanently from a life full of smiles and laughter. Despite himself, despite how much he nags Minho about taking care of his skin, he can’t help but feel endeared and longing for that future. A future where he’s with Minho.
He grabs Minho’s face to press a chaste kiss to his lips, then pulls away to get his pants and shirt back on and adjusts his skirt. When he looks back at Minho, he’s got his red coat back on, and is fixing his hair in the mirror. It’s pointless — Minho’s lips are red from kissing, his hair is sweat-matted and he has a sheen on his skin that screams exertion and afterglow. He knows he must look just as fucked-out, but he joins him at the mirror to wash his hands and tries his best to make himself presentable, too.
“Still can’t believe we did this. So irresponsible,” he grouses, which earns him a light nudge in his side from Minho’s elbow.
“Last time?” Minho asks, a knowing glint in his eye. They’ve played this scene out before, every time they’ve been caught fooling around in public.
Kibum glares at him. “Last time. For real this time.”
They both know he’s full of it, but Minho just laughs it off and takes his hand, leading him out of the bathroom. “Of course, Kibummie.”
The first thing Kibum sees when Minho opens the door is Taemin, shoving another snowman cookie down his throat with a knowing look in his eyes.
Kibum sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know how much you heard.”
Taemin tells him anyway. Because he’s a defiant brat like that. Kibum thinks maybe he and Minho shouldn’t have kids. The one they raised is a menace. “Not much. I walked by when I heard you scream, ‘Daddy,’ but I figured you’d be done by now,” he says with a grin that reminds Kibum of an evil elf.
Kibum’s ears are hot with shame when he turns to Minho and swats at his arm. “Look at what you did!”
“Me? You’re the one who said it!” Minho pouts, but wraps his arm around Kibum’s waist to pull him close, anyway.
“It’s okay, Hyung. I’ve seen you two do worse,” Taemin says, and Kibum wants to kill them both. “So did you get him pregnant, Minho-hyung?” Taemin waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“With twins, Taeminnie.” He winks.
Jinki rounds the corner just as Kibum screams. If he has to be held back before he strangles Minho to the tune of Taemin’s hiccupping laughter along with Minho’s indignant pleas of, What are you doing? Stress is bad for the baby, that’s normal. This is his family, the one he has.
He’s perfectly happy with this, after all.