Chapter Text
Kim Seungmin does not enjoy bringing his dog to work with him.
Stella’s too anxious, easily upset, annoying—he loves her dearly despite all of this, of course—and not built to be outside of familiar environments for very long. Not unlike himself; he often thinks that’s why they get along. He raised her to be too much like himself, though he never meant to impart his negative traits during her training. Nervous, quiet, averse to meeting new people on most occasions. That one will likely never change.
This isn’t the first time Seungmin has been compared to a dog. Least of all not the first time he’s been compared to Stella.
He’s getting out of the back of the car downtown, outside of the office on the one day a week that the cleaning company comes to Seungmin’s home, and turns his back on her for only a moment—the same moment that another impatient car honks behind his company car, flashing their lights at the driver like he’s doing something wrong. Seungmin pauses to watch just long enough for Stella to shoot out of the car between his thigh and the door, running toward the building’s entrance.
“Stella, come back!” Seungmin groans. It’s barely 9am and he’s ready to call it a day already. To walk out in front of the angry driver and ask to be run over. “Goddamnit,”
He kicks the door closed with his foot, bag still inside the cab of the car, and chases after his dog. He’s so flustered that he barely excuses himself as he tries to follow a shi tzu through the morning foot traffic downtown. He doesn’t see her, doesn’t know where she went, and just as ge starts to panic, to lose his fucking mind, the crowd parts, and Seungmin sees a stranger holding his stupid, anxious dog in their arms, looking at Seungmin like, looking for this?
“Holy shit,” Seungmin mutters with a mixture of relief and surprise.
The stranger holding Stella is so attractive it nearly knocks the air out of Seungmin. His shoulders are so broad Seungmin feels dwarfed even from far away. He’s built like a brick house, on display under an unbuttoned collared shirt, a white tank top exposed underneath. His dark hair has streaks of white throughout, like little flashes of light in the dark as he shakes his head down at Stella in his arms, gently scolding her. When he looks up at Seungmin, his eyes are dark, a few strands of hair hanging down in front of them, otherwise styled out of his face.
Second to Seungmin’s husband, maybe the most attractive man Seungmin has ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” he says, bowing gently to the stranger. “She never acts like this,” he lies, reaching toward the stranger, toward his dog.
“She really doesn’t like it here,” the stranger says, like he’s asked Stella personally. Seungmin frowns. “Sorry, that’s overstepping. I’m sorry,”
He hands Seungmin his dog, who makes a noise like she’s disappointed as she leaves the stranger’ hold. She licks Seungmin’s chin in apology, and he forgives her, or he will, but right now he’s focused on the man in front of him, because neither of them move from the middle of the sidewalk. They just stare at one another.
“Thank you for catching her,” Seungmin says. The man smiles, nods, like of course. “Can I repay you somehow?”
“Hold the door for me, boss?”
Seungmin freezes.
“You… work here? For us?”
The man is grinning, cheeky. “First day. Starting as admin, but I could work my way up,”
“Admin? Reception?” Seungmin questions. He doesn’t know why this terrifies him. “Are you an assistant?”
“Not yours, sadly,” he says, clicking his tongue. “But I’ll be around, Mr. Kim, don’t you worry,”
The man moves to walk around Seungmin, leading him toward the door. His hand grazes Seungmin’s lower back and he shivers almost violently at the contact. His hold on Stella tightens reflexively, but he follows the man’s lead without protest, letting himself be shown into his own building by a man he just met and still doesn’t know the name of presently.
He’s so close, warm at Seungmin’s side. It makes him want to sprint all the way up to his office, away from whoever he is, whoever he could be.
“I’m Seo Changbin, by the way,” he says, holding the door open for Seungmin. “It’s nice to meet you officially,”
They part ways at the elevator.
Seungmin paces behind his desk while Jeongin reads him his daily agenda.
He is not listening. He doesn’t care.
Stella watches him from the couch, tail wagging, happy to be somewhere familiar even if she hates Seungmin’s office as much as he does. Jeongin plops down on the couch beside her when he’s finished reading from his phone, turning his attention to Stella.
Seungmin takes a seat in the arm chair across from him, his phone out, scrolling through the company directory. He finds the name Seo Changbin easily, but the information listed is minimal, scarce, even. It doesn’t list his branch of employment, or his supervisor. Seungmin locks his phone in frustration, tossing it on the coffee table between him and Jeongin, who merely glances at his boss’s outburst.
“Who hired an assistant recently?” Seungmin mutters, more to himself than anything. He isn’t really expecting an answer. “Do I need to send out a survey?!”
“Minho mentioned he was thinking of hiring one,” Jeongin tells him, scratching behind Stella’s ear. Seungmin jerks his head up to look at him. “I think he may have found someone last week,”
“You’re kidding,” Seungmin mutters.
He turns just in time to see the man in question pushing through the door into his office, flanked by his new assistant. They’re both expressionless, until Minho spots Seungmin’s visible distress and grins.
“Seungmin-ah,” he says, unprofessionally. Seungmin isn’t phased by it. “I hear you’ve already met my new assistant,”
Seungmin hums, eyeing Changbin as he stands in his office.
He’s shed his leather jacket somewhere, wearing nothing more than a black button down shirt and a pair of black slacks, expensive-looking loafers. The watch on his wrist also looks expensive—clean, bright silver accented with shimmers of white and black, held together by a black leather strap. Seungmin thinks he’s maybe cleaned up too much for someone with a starting wage, but he doesn’t look bad. He looks too good, in fact, like he belongs in the room with Minho and Seungmin, like he’s here for their impromptu meeting himself.
“Just for formalities, then,” Minho continues, bored. “This is Seo Changbin, my new assistant. Changbin, this is Yang Jeongin,” he motions toward the man in question, “and Kim Seungmin, senior leadership,”
Seungmin bows. Changbin bows much deeper.
“Thank you for reintroducing me, sir,” Changbin addresses Minho, then locks his eyes back on Seungmin again, like he’s the only thing in the room. “I’m glad you two made it in safely,”
As if she knows she’s being talked about, Stella huffs from the couch, wagging her tail as she stares at Changbin, waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he does, she barks happily. Seungmin watches a few heads turn their way out in the main office, but with the curtains pulled closed, Seungmin knows the four and a quarter of them are just shapes, with the smaller fraction demanding the newest employee’s attention.
“May I…?” Changbin asks, gesturing toward Stella. Seungmin nods. “Hi again, babygirl,”
After that, Seungmin does his best to avoid Seo Changbin, and Minho, by extension. They hardly cross paths as it is, but even still, Seungmin makes himself scarce until the monthly touch-base meeting a week and a half later.
Everyone stays late for this one, cancels plans, calls their spouses with the completely plausible excuse of working late. They order takeout and eat it in the conference room, someone puts a few six packs in the employee refrigerator. It’s never been mandatory for their assistants to stay, but Jeongin always does. He knows he’s more than welcome, knows he’ll be hearing about all of this in the next few days anyway, so he may as well take the free overtime. It surprises Seungmin when Changbin enters the conference room behind his supervisor, laptop and notebook in his hands like he’s serious about whatever he’s getting out of this. He seats himself on the opposite end of the table from Seungmin, his attention locked on him over the screen of his laptop, open, typing something.
Seungmin settles into his seat, already bored, and waits for Minho to start his portion of the presentation.
They pause their business to eat and talk shit around the table with the understanding that nothing said there leaves the room. Even if it did, anything said would find its way back to them before anyone else, and they would cut it off at the source, even if it were true. Seungmin has seen it happen a few times in his five years with the company. He doesn’t care enough to gossip about his coworkers, so he listens while he eats quietly, keeping to himself.
He finishes his beer as the conversation starts to wind down, and before Seungmin can blink, his empty bottle is replaced with a freshly opened one, and his plastic bowl and utensils swept off of the table into a trash bag held by Changbin. He’s grinning at Seungmin, standing too close, and holding his empty bottle between two fingers, slipping it into the trash bag as he stares at Seungmin with an eyebrow cocked.
“Need anything else, boss?” Changbin asks. He’s smirking.
Seungmin rolls his eyes. “No,” he says, then looks up at Changbin again. “Stop calling me that—Minho will throw a fit,”
“Ah, he doesn’t mind,” Changbin shrugs a shoulder. He’s looking down at Seungmin where he sits like he knows something that Seungmin doesn’t want him to know. “He thinks I could learn from watching you with Jeongin,”
“Learn what?” Seungmin asks softly. Before he can stop himself. He shakes his head. “He’s fucking with you,”
“I think he’s fucking with you,” Changbin shoots back, like Seungmin doesn’t know that already.
Seungmin hums, disinterested. Distracted. “Why don’t we agree to disagree?”
Changbin laughs but otherwise leaves Seungmin alone for the rest of the meeting.
They finish up just shy of eight o’clock in the evening. Seungmin says his goodbyes, goodnights and see-you-next-times, then returns to his office to pack up to go home. He pauses in the solitude, sits on his couch and checks his messages, emails, anything to delay the bustle of going home for the soft quiet of his office in that moment. The kind of quiet he can’t find at home, outside, in the gym, anywhere. He doesn’t seek it often, but with how loud the evening had been and will be again when he leaves the building, Seungmin chooses to sit still for a moment.
Long enough that he receives a message from his husband, a question about what time he’ll be home, when to order dinner. Something reasonable. Seungmin doesn’t respond. Locks his phone, slips it into his back pocket as he stands from the couch.
With his back to the door, Seungmin assumes the knock that he hears on the glass is the janitor, come to collect the evidence of his presence throughout the day, but as Seungmin turns to look out at the room from his desk, it is not the janitor that he sees there holding up a hand like they’re wordlessly apologizing for intruding.
“Sorry to bother you again,” Changbin says, though he looks anything but sorry. His shirt is unbuttoned by a few more buttons than is acceptable for the office, his sleeves rolled up his arms. Seungmin is staring. “A few of us are going to the bar to play pool. D’you want to come?”
Seungmin blinks at him, stuck still halfway into reaching for his laptop. “You’re inviting me to a bar?” He asks, dropping his gaze away from Changbin’s arms to pack his belongings away. To go home. “Weren’t you calling me boss an hour ago? I can’t drink with you,”
“What should I call you then, Seungmin?” He asks, bold. “Pretty boy?” Changbin takes a step toward him. “Babygirl?” Another step. Seungmin swallows; he doesn’t tell him to stop, doesn’t protest or shout at him. “Submissive? Power bottom? Help me out here,”
“Fuck off,” Seungmin says, dropping his gaze away from the other man as his face flushes bright red. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, or who with, it seems,”
Changbin hums, closer now still. “I know what I’m talking about,” he says confidently.
“I’m married,” Seungmin finally tries, exasperated. He gives up and looks at Changbin again, hoping for confused or annoyed, but knowing he lands somewhere closer to horrified. “What are you doing?”
“I’m flirting,” Changbin shrugs a shoulder. Nonchalant. “People talk,”
“About me?” Seungmin scoffs. He drops down into his desk chair, runs a hand through his hair, too tipsy for this or any other conversation about submitting. “It’s all gossip. Bullshit.”
“My sources seem pretty convinced,”
“Plural? You’re kidding,” Seungmin laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. Like there’s any question in his mind who the office gossips may be. “Like I said, I’m married,”
“I didn’t say that mattered,” he says, touching the glass top of Seungmin’s desk with two fingers, tapping there once, twice. He’s smiling now, but it’s not kind. “And it’s not a very convincing argument anymore, anyway,”
Seungmin sighs. “What do I have to say to get you to leave?”
“Come out for one drink,” Changbin tells him very seriously.
“I’m not doing that, Changbin,” Seungmin says, standing from his desk. He walks around, toward the door. He holds it open as a suggestion. “Have a good night out, and I’ll see you on Monday,”
Changbin slips his hands into his pockets, tail between his legs, and makes for the open door. He looks at the floor, head hung, sad, like he knows he lost, but then he stops in front of Seungmin. Changbin reaches out toward him slowly, like Seungmin may run or bite him or something much worse.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t move.
He lets Changbin touch him, his fingers brushing along Seungmin’s jawline. Seungmin shivers, his grip on the door tightening to just shy of painful, nails of his other hand curling into his palm in his pocket. He won’t touch him back, he won’t move. This is nothing. If he doesn’t make it anything.
“You’re shaking,” Changbin tells him. He knows. He can feel it. “What do you think I’m going to do to you? Hurt you?”
Seungmin shakes his head. Or tries to. He barely moves. “You don’t want to do this,”
“I very much do,” Changbin counters, his thumb grazing Seungmin’s lower lip, so lightly Seungmin could be convinced he imagined the feeling. “And I think you do, too,”
“You’re risking your job on a hunch?” Seungmin asks, tilting his head into Changbin’s touch. Confirmation enough. Changbin smiles this wicked thing. “Bold. And stupid,”
Changbin leans in to kiss him so quickly that their noses bump, teeth knocking together. Seungmin doesn’t try to fight the noise he makes when Changbin licks into his mouth, drags their tongues along one another. Seungmin lets go of the door, uses that hand instead to grab at Changbin’s shirt and pull them together. Changbin’s hand moves up into Seungmin’s hair, fingers curling into the soft strands and just holding him there, tight. He tugs just enough to tilt Seungmin’s head to the side, a better angle, and Seungmin melts into the roughness against his will.
When they pull away from one another, Seungmin is panting, his cheeks pink and eyes half-lidded, hair mussed from Changbin’s grip on him. They stare at one another for a long moment, quiet aside from their breathing, the hum of the electricity.
“Come out with me,” Changbin tries again, softer this time. “Just one drink with Jeongin and I and I’ll let you go home,”
“I have to go home now,” Seungmin says it like he’s pouting. Like he doesn’t want to do what he’s told. “Goodnight, Changbin,”
Changbin kisses him one more time, quick, chaste, still hot somehow in a way that makes Seungmin’s head feel too full and flat at the same time. His hand leaves Seungmin’s cheek; he feels colder, lonely, immediately.
“Night, boss,”
When Seungmin gets home half an hour later, Christopher greets him warmly with a kiss on his cheek, asks about his day, the meeting, and tries to pretend he isn’t annoyed with him, but Seungmin can feel it. He knows better than to trust the surface tension anymore, knows there’s something lurking. In all of their time together, Seungmin can count on one hand the times he’s gotten to peek behind the veil, to see the truth behind Christopher’s emotions.
It used to hurt.
More than anything else, knowing that he didn’t know his husband was what hurt the most. Not when Christopher stopped touching him, not when they stopped kissing each other goodnight, or when they stopped taking each other out for dinner when they could. Knowing that Christopher still kept himself hidden after swearing for better or worse stung the most. Seungmin doesn’t like to think too hard about any of it outside of his bi-weekly therapy sessions, despite what he may tell his psychologist about progress and whether or not it’s being made anywhere in their home.
Christopher says goodnight and goes to his office while Seungmin is still in their living room, mindlessly scrolling his phone with something playing on the television in front of him. The silence of their apartment closes in on Seungmin as Christopher shuts the door behind himself. Stella wanders out from hiding and curls beside him on the couch, asleep again in an instant.
He hates himself as he does it, but Seungmin drags his thumb along his own lower lip, remembering the way Changbin had touched him only an hour or so ago. Remembering that he could have made the less safe decision, gone out with him, had another drink.
Let Changbin fuck him quick and dirty in the bar bathroom.
Seungmin would have gotten on his knees in his nice suit on a bathroom floor covered in piss and cum and whatever else to suck his cock after Changbin touched him like that. He still would.
As he shifts in his seat on the couch, Stella leaves his side, disappearing somewhere into the apartment. Seungmin pulls his cock out out of his slacks, spitting into his palm and wasting no time in stroking himself. His eyes slip closed, head tipping back against the back of the couch. He thinks about the way Changbin looked at him, the way he spoke to him. Like he knew what Seungmin wanted without asking. Without needing to.
Seungmin fucks up into his fist, wishing it was Changbin touching him instead. Wishing for anything more than what he has now. Even just his voice in Seungmin’s ear would be enough, calling Seungmin, baby…
He cums quickly, and it’s unsatisfying. Like it always is.
On Monday, he runs into Changbin before he’s eaten that morning, busy scouring the employee dining hall for anything resembling a breakfast, an early lunch, anything. He has coffee in hand already, they both do. Changbin smiles at him softly, like he can tell just how tired Seungmin is by looking at him. Maybe he can; maybe Seungmin isn’t hiding it as well as he thought he was anymore.
Changbin has a banana, a muffin, and two tangerines balanced elegantly in his other hand, sipping from his paper coffee cup and eyeing Seungmin from a few feet away. He’s still wearing his leather jacket, loafers, and dark green slacks today, a dark patterned button down tucked in beneath the jacket.
Unsurprisingly, again, he looks good. Seungmin rips his eyes away as Changbin notices himself being noticed.
“Good morning, Seungmin,” Changbin says, stepping impossibly, intimately closer to his superior. He doesn’t move, doesn’t rise to the challenge. Changbin lowers his voice. “How was your weekend, pretty boy?”
Seungmin flushes instantly, sighs through his nose, and forces his attention back to the display of breakfast items in front of them. “You’re going to get in trouble,”
“With who?” Changbin asks innocently, moving to hand Seungmin one of his tangerines. Seungmin takes it wordlessly, holds it, cold, his fingers wrapped around it like a stress ball. “You’re not telling me to stop. You like it,”
Seungmin doesn’t argue. He’s right; he’s not telling Changbin to stop. He hadn’t even considered that as an option until this point. “What do you want from me, Changbin?”
He shakes his head. “The question is what do you want from me?” Seungmin feels his eyes slip closed more than he notices them closing. He doesn’t know how to answer that question, or if he should. “Because I know it’s not nothing,”
“I don’t know,” Seungmin breathes; the first honest thing he’s said to Changbin thus far. “I don’t—why is it me you’re after?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Changbin asks, leaning back just enough to look Seungmin up and down appreciatively. His cheeks flush under the attention. “You’re beautiful,” Changbin tells him easily, too honest. “And I bet you take cock like you love it,”
“Christ, Changbin,” Seungmin scolds in a quiet hiss, nodding his good morning to a staff member as they enter the dining hall behind Changbin. “Did you read my horoscope this morning or something?”
Changbin laughs, loud and genuine. “Yeah, they had it in Needy Power Bottom Monthly,”
Seungmin snorts, rolls his eyes, and takes a sip of his coffee. They’re still standing so close to one another, even as people begin trailing sleepily into the room around them. He watches as Changbin looks down at his lips, then nibbles lightly on his own, like he wants to kiss Seungmin, but knows better. They both know better in this situation, thankfully; Seungmin would follow his lead anywhere at this point if Changbin took it.
“I’ll find you later,” Seungmin tells him, shrugging a shoulder like he may or may not mean what he says. He reaches out, takes the muffin from Changbin’s hand as well. “Have a good day,”
Seungmin does find him later.
Or, rather, he makes Changbin come to him in his office. Because he can. Because it’s private, away from any prying eyes that aren’t Jeongin’s just outside the room, and Seungmin would be hard pressed to believe that Jeongin doesn’t know about the beginning of this affair already. He would bet money that Changbin told him about their kiss that night over drinks, hustling each other at the pool table.
He doesn’t know if he cares or not.
With one email, Changbin comes to find him, entering Seungmin’s office with permission this time, but like a small, scared animal. He looks around the room, assessing the threat level, and finds Seungmin sitting quietly on his couch, demure, reading something on his phone with a book open in his other hand. He looks almost peaceful. When he glances up at Changbin, he’s smirking.
“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Seungmin asks him, placing the bookmark into his book and standing from the couch. He motions for Changbin to take a seat in one of the armchairs across from him. “You think you’re finally in trouble for calling me a bottom?”
Changbin shrugs a shoulder, relaxing a bit under the blanket of the joke. He smiles this soft, lopsided thing as he sits down that makes Seungmin’s heart stutter. “You never really know why you’re getting called to the principal’s office,”
“I told you in the email,” Seungmin responds, turning to walk around his desk and take a seat in the chair. He gathers a stack of papers, largely meaningless, though one does contain important data for Minho’s upcoming report. It’s like a puzzle. “I have this data that Minho requested,” he says, handing Changbin the stack of ten or so useless sheets of paper.
The top page has a light, soft red sticky note on the front.
An address up town, a time much later this evening, and a room number. Changbin cocks an eyebrow in surprise, looking between the note and Seungmin, sitting calmly at his desk, waiting for Changbin to say something like a dog waiting for a command. Too eager.
“That’s what I want from you,” Seungmin tells him simply, nodding to the note in Changbin’s hands. “Show up tonight,”
“Pretty short notice, there, boss,” Changbin says teasingly, sighing, playing at inconvenienced. “What if I had plans already tonight?”
“Cancel?” Seungmin suggests, unphased. “It’s a Monday night? Don’t show up—I don’t care,”
Changbin shakes his head in disbelief, but he’s grinning. “Yes, sir,” he says, standing from the chair, hovering over Seungmin across the short expanse of his desktop. “Do you want me to bring anything?”
“Your fighting spirit,” Seungmin says, bored, looking at Changbin like, are you serious? “No, Changbin. Just show up,”
He nods, suddenly serious. “I can do that,”
Six hours later, Seungmin is waiting for him in a clean, dark modern hotel room uptown. One that he booked based on aesthetics entirely, knowing it wouldn’t matter in the end what the place they were hooking up in looked like, but something inside of Seungmin told him to make a good impression regardless. He’s still wearing his suit for the same reason, shirt sleeves rolled up and suit jacket tossed casually onto the low chaise by the windows.
The room is all concrete and dark wood accents, white bedding and a handful of plants hung near the window. Seungmin thinks the space probably looks beautiful in the daylight, but the lights of the city around him filter though the curtains instead, twinkling behind the white gauzey fabric.
Seungmin turns the television on while he waits, a baseball game on mute while he checks his email, assures Christopher he’s working on a big presentation, that he’ll be home late and can cook for himself when he gets there. It’s fine, no big deal. Christopher sends him a kissy face emoji; Seungmin throws his phone to the end of the bed, quietly fuming that a text message receives more affection than he does in person.
There’s a knock on the door only a few moments later.
Seungmin takes a deep breath as he stands from the bed, leaving his phone where it is. He knows who it is, but still, he peers through the peep hole to confirm his suspicion. Changbin is dressed nicely—a tight t-shirt underneath a green zip up hoodie, all underneath his leather jacket. A few different length necklaces hang from his neck, decorating his chest, silver and sparkling in the low light of the room as Seungmin lets him inside.
Changbin looks around as he slides his coat off, nodding to himself, satisfied, Seungmin imagines, with his choice of meet up location. He tosses his jacket over Seungmin’s, taking a step toward him to do so, and smirking at him as he does.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” Changbin breathes, reaching out to touch Seungmin’s hip like he’s apologizing with his touch. Seungmin accepts, melting into the kindness easily. “The train was delayed, and Innie wouldn’t stop talking,”
“Are you two dating?” Seungmin asks neutrally. He tries for neutral. He isn’t sure where he lands, really. The idea of Jeongin dating Changbin makes his throat feel tight. “It doesn’t mat—”
“No, Seungmin,” he says seriously, like, why would you even think that? “We got a late dinner after he ditched his date,” Changbin explains, petting at Seungmin’s hip through his shirt. It makes him shiver. “He was apparently hot but emotionally unavailable,”
Seungmin chuckles without an ounce of humor. “So he was out with my husband?”
Changbin doesn’t respond with words. He kisses Seungmin instead, soft, sweeter than Seungmin knows what to do with. The hand not at his hip reaches up to cup Seungmin’s cheek. A tender little action that makes Seungmin want to push Changbin away, to tell him that being sweet wasn’t part of the deal. He licks into Changbin’s mouth instead, trying to ask for more that Changbin deliberately isn’t giving him yet.
“I want you to fuck me,” Seungmin murmurs against Changbin’s mouth. “Please, Changbin,”
Changbin hums, smiling that same wicked little grin from before. “We’ll see,” he tells Seungmin as he takes a step back from him, sliding his phone to the side to sit down on the edge of the bed. He reclines on his arms, looking up at Seungmin. “You don’t get to have the power here,”
“Oh?” Seungmin asks like he’s disappointed. His skin feels electric. “You’re in charge, then?”
“When we’re like this, yeah,” Changbin tells him, nodding once with a finality that makes Seungmin shiver. “Now, strip for me,”
Seungmin does as he’s told.
Changbin watches him intently as he undoes his tie, unbuttons his white dress shirt, tossing both on the floor somewhere near their jackets. Seungmin takes a step closer to him, standing between his knees as he undoes his belt, unzips his pants. Changbin sits up, reaches out to touch Seungmin’s stomach, his chest, to roll one of his nipples between his fingers, smirking as Seungmin hisses but doesn’t pull away.
“Don’t tease me, Changbin,” Seungmin begs, working his belt faster, leaving it on his pants as he drops them at the end of the bed. “If you don’t follow through, then I’ll get you fired,”
He laughs, loud and genuine, then folds his lips together, smiling loudly instead. “Yes, boss,”
Seungmin nods, standing there in his underwear, trying to feel sexy. Changbin drags his eyes over him, like he’s savoring something. Beside him, Seungmin’s phone lights up with an email. Changbin picks it up, leaning back enough to take a photo of Seungmin like this—nearly naked, half hard already, and desperate for anything, whatever Changbin is willing to give him. He flushes bright pink at the attention, hoping he remembers to delete those later this evening.
“You look good in a suit,” Changbin tells him, trailing a finger down the center of Seungmin’s stomach, drawing with his fingertip between his muscles. “But you look better like this, I think,”
“Do something about it, then,” Seungmin pouts. His cock fills out in his underwear at the lightest bit of attention. He should be embarrassed, but Changbin is looking at him like holding back is becoming physically difficult for him, like he wants to bite Seungmin. “Please, Changbin,”
Changbin hums again, his fingers dropping lower, low enough to graze the head of Seungmin’s cock through his underwear. He could cum from that alone, he thinks, but he bites his lips hard instead, trying to last at least long enough to get Changbin inside of him somehow.
“Come lay on your back for me, baby,” Changbin tells him, nodding to the bed behind him.
Seungmin tries not to scramble.
He makes himself comfortable against the pillows, quiet as Changbin kicks his loafers off before crawling up the bed between Seungmin’s legs. Seungmin watches as Changbin stares at him like he’s trying to remember the scene in front of him for years to come. He bites his lower lip, reaching toward Seungmin like he can’t help himself and grazing his fingers along the band of his underwear, like he’s asking Seungmin why he still has them on.
Changbin answers the question himself, tugging them down enough to prompt Seungmin into finishing the act himself. He kicks them to the end of the bed, uncaring where any of his clothes land at this point. He leans down and kisses the head of Seungmin’s exposed cock, making him squirm and whine.
“You’re a fucking tease,” Seungmin mutters as Changbin climbs up over him.
“I’m just taking my time, baby,” Changbin tells him, sweeter than Seungmin anticipates him to be. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since someone did this for you,”
Seungmin goes red, rips his eyes away from Changbin. He doesn’t want to admit how much that comment stung for an apology, how the tears brimming at his eyes are more from excitement than hurt. Of course. His cheeks are wet because he’s desperate for this, not because Changbin’s apology is kinder than his husband has been to him in their shared bed in years.
“It’s fine, just,” he pauses, swallows around the lump in his throat. “Just—I feel like an overeager virgin,”
“I’m gonna take care of you, Seungmin,” Changbin leans down again, kisses his hip bone where it protrudes just so. “I’ll stay all night,”
“Shup up and touch me, then,”
Changbin does.
He takes the head of Seungmin’s cock into his mouth, humming softly around him while he swirls his tongue there. Seungmin gasps and bucks his hips up before he can really register what’s happening. He just feels wet, hot, good, oh my god, and follows the feeling like an animal. His eyes flutter, unsure if he wants to close them or watch Changbin take his cock further into his mouth like he’s hungry for him, swallowing him down in one quick mouthful.
“Oh, my god,” Seungmin groans, arching his back off of the bed, trying to fuck Changbin’s throat while he has him there, nose against his groin. “Changbin, fuck me,”
Seungmin watches as Changbin lazily sucks his cock instead, eyes locked on Seungmin above him. They stare at one another while he moves, Changbin bobbing his head slowly and Seungmin gripping the comforter for dear life, unsure of where else to put his hands. He’s moaning louder than he should, louder than either of them should be during a clandestine meeting to fuck in a hotel, but Seungmin can’t bring himself to care. He lays there panting, whimpering and cursing as he tries not to cum too quickly.
Changbin reaches up with his right hand, holding two fingers in front of Seungmin’s mouth, pressing against his plush lower lip like he’s asking him a question. Seungmin takes Changbin’s fingers into his mouth, sucking them just as slowly and intently as Changbin is sucking his cock. Changbin groans around him again, watching Seungmin watch him. Seungmin thinks about sucking his cock, about letting Changbin cum on his face.
He licks around Changbin’s fingers one last time before he pulls them out of his mouth, pulls off of his cock, and leaves Seungmin on his back, whining. Changbin nudges at Seungmin’s legs, crawling up closer as Seungmin raises his knees, exposing himself wholly to this man that’s still basically a stranger. He sits back for a moment, holding his wet fingers away from himself as he admires the view of Seungmin naked, on his back with his cock glistening between them.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Changbin breathes, leaning down and pressing his fingers against Seungmin’s hole. The resistance he meets is next to nothing. Seungmin wiggles his hips, silently begging for more. “And so fucking greedy,”
“Please, please, touch me,” Seungmin whines, biting down on his lower lip. He moans Changbin’s name again as his fingers slip all the way inside of him. Changbin groans with him like he’s the one being fucked. “Oh, fuck,”
Changbin shoots up and kisses him, licking into his mouth without waiting for permission. He moves his fingers just as slowly and torturously as he’s done everything else so far, fucking Seungmin slowly on two digits. It’s enough to make his stomach feel tight, to make his cock twitch where it rubs against Changbin’s slacks, his forearm, while he’s crawled up over Seungmin like this. He feels like he’s going to cum already, and screws his eyes shut as he tries to hold back.
When Changbin pulls away from the kiss, he drops down again, wrapping his lips around Seungmin’s cock, tonguing at the slit, the lip around the head. Seungmin cums in his mouth. He reaches out to grip Changbin’s hair, holding him there while he fills his mouth. Changbin swallows everything without gagging, without missing a drop, and pants, satisfied with himself, as he pulls off of Seungmin’s cock.
He keeps his fingers where they are, moving them slowly, curling his fingertips up toward Seungmin’s prostate like he hadn’t just cum in Changbin’s mouth. Seungmin groans at the overstimulation while Changbin pets at his insides, dropping his hand out of Changbin’s hair in exhaustion.
“That’s not fucking me,” Seungmin whines, lips parted as he breathes heavily.
“Technically,” Changbin says, cheeky, his voice hoarse. He moves his fingers inside of Seungmin like he’s proving a point. “Finger-fucking you right now, baby,”
“I want your cock,”
Changbin chuckles, hangs his head. “I know, baby, I do,” he assures him. “I want to work you up to it,”
Seungmin flushes pink, tearing his gaze away from Changbin. “You don’t have to baby me like this,”
“M’not,” Changbin murmurs, kissing his hip again. Suddenly soft. “I just want you to enjoy yourself,”
Seungmin thinks about weeping. “You also don’t have to be nice to me,”
“Oh, I won’t be when I fuck you,” Changbin tells him. “Trust me,” he says, moving his fingers again, the drag agonizingly slow, like he’s showing Seungmin exactly what he means. “I won’t be nice anymore,”
“Please,” Seungmin tries again. He rolls his hips down into Changbin’s touch, hands fisted in the comforter again. He feels too overwhelmed and not touched enough all at the same time. It’s driving him insane. “Changbin, I’ll cry,”
Changbin laughs, spreading his fingers enough to slip in a third. Seungmin winces, but he loves the stretch. “You’ll cry anyway, baby,”
Seungmin pouts, flustered, because he’s probably right.
Changbin scissors his fingers, spreading Seungmin open, before pulling out completely. He moves away slowly, in chunks, like he’s trying not to upset or surprise Seungmin. He makes for his jacket on the floor and rifles through it for a moment, checking the inside pockets until he retrieves a small bottle of lube and a single condom. Seungmin watches him move, the quiet confidence resting between Changbin’s shoulders part of the reason Seungmin is so attracted to him, the way he reaches behind himself and pulls his t-shirt off in one quick, smooth motion as he approaches Seungmin again.
He can see the bulge at the front of Changbin’s pants much clearer now, can see the way he affects Changbin, and Seungmin loves it. Loves knowing that Changbin is just as turned on by all of this as Seungmin is. Seungmin watches as Changbin sheds his pants, stepping out of his underwear and crawling up from the end of the bed again. He tears the package of the condom with his teeth, rolling it onto his cock one handed while the other hand pops the top on the travel sized bottle of lube he’s somehow found.
Seungmin watches Changbin coat his cock in lube, stroking himself slowly to spread it out while he looks down at Seungmin, licking along his own lower lip. “You ready for me, baby?”
“Yes,” Seungmin groans, impatient. “Please, Changbin,”
Without warning or preamble, Changbin pushes Seungmin’s legs up, his knees near his chest, and lines the head of his cock up with his hole. Seungmin holds his breath as Changbin slips inside of him, filling him up instantly as he slides slowly to the hilt. They both groan, loud and long, but Seungmin’s sound ends in a wet sob, like he can’t breathe, but then he curses, his cheeks pink, and Changbin moves just slightly, pulling out of him enough to thrust back in.
“Oh, fuck,” Seungmin bites out around a hiss. He head of Changbin’s cock catches on his rim as he pulls almost all of the way out of him before slipping back in just as quickly, teasing him. “Fuck, you’re so big,”
“You feel so good, Seungmin,” Changbin tells him, biting the words out around a loud moan. He was right: he doesn’t baby Seungmin anymore. He fucks him hard and fast, bruising him with how quickly his hips snap against Seungmin’s. “Fuck, oh my god—could fuck you like this every day,”
Seungmin flushes at the praise, ignoring the way his heart stutters in his chest as Changbin’s hand slides up the underside of his thigh, fucking him deeper as he shifts their positions. Seungmin arches off of the bed, reaching up to claw at Changbin’s shoulders. He digs blunt nails into Changbin’s skin, making him hiss softly, his rhythm slipping for just a second as Seungmin surprises him by nearly drawing blood.
“You like it when I pin you down like this?” Changbin asks, panting while he grins down at Seungmin. He’s so lost in it, nearly drooling on Changbin’s cock, that he doesn’t even try to answer. Which seems to be more than enough of an answer for Changbin. “When I fuck you stupid?”
Seungmin nods, whimpering this pathetic little sound. It’s all he can do aside from meeting Changbin mid-thrust, trying so hard to fuck himself on Changbin’s cock it almost doesn’t matter if they’re moving at the same time. It’s enough for Seungmin, who cums a second time, his cock twitching between them as he cums nearly dry. Changbin fucks him through his orgasm, holding his hips still and pounding into him as he cums too.
“Shit, Seungmin,” Changbin groans, rolling his hips in one final, slow thrust all the way into him. Seungmin feels his eyes roll back in his head, feels his stomach lurch, and clings to Changbin like he’s all that makes life worth living, nothing more than a puddle beneath him. Changbin kisses the corner of his mouth before slowly pulling out. “You’re so hot like this,”
Seungmin doesn’t say anything, he just pushes out his lower lip, looking more debauched somehow with just that slight motion. Changbin pauses, reaches for Seungmin’s phone again, still somehow at the end of the bed, and holds it up between them a second time, taking a picture of Seungmin on his back like this: face pink, ass red, stomach coated in his own cum. He starts typing something, smirking to himself, then drops the phone at the end of the bed again before pulling away to deal with the condom.
From the other side of the room, a notification sounds.
Seungmin jerks his head toward the bathroom as Changbin disappears into it, the light switch he flips bleeding out onto the carpet behind him.
“Did you send that to yourself?”
“Yeah,” Changbin calls back, unphased. He sounds like he’s grinning. When he comes back toward the bed, he is. “Yeah, I did. You look good,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing.
In Changbin’s hand is a washcloth. He leans down over Seungmin and gently wipes him clean. Seungmin flushes deeper, looking away from Changbin as he looks at him with a softness, touches him so tenderly, that it makes Seungmin ache. When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth back in the direction of the bathroom; Seungmin hears it land somewhere on the floor. He reaches toward Seungmin’s cheek then, his thumb grazing along his skin. Seungmin turns into Changbin’s touch. He can’t help himself.
“What are you going to do with it?” Seungmin asks neutrally, peering up at Changbin through his lashes.
Changbin’s cheeks are pink, but he shrugs a shoulder. Cool, casual. Like he has no idea he could destroy Seungmin’s entire life with that photo and a few quick emails. “Stare at it for a while before I go to bed, I dunno,” Changbin says, chuckling. “Jerk off to it before I shower tomorrow morning. Think about you,”
Seungmin forces himself to look away from Changbin again, forces himself to swallow the way that joke makes him feel, the warm, tingling feeling in his limbs. “You can keep it then, I guess,”
They leave the hotel separately, staggered like their arrivals.
Changbin leaves first. He gets dressed slowly, like he’s trying to prolong their time together. Seungmin watches him shimmy into his clothes, tugging his sweater and jacket on almost reluctantly. Before he leaves, Changbin kisses Seungmin again, slow and sweet and awful in a way that claws at Seungmin’s stomach, in a way that makes him want—
He grips Changbin’s jacket as he pulls away from the kiss, tugging him back in for one last, quick peck. Changbin grins against Seungmin’s mouth and leaves him with two chaste little smooches instead, a whispered bye, baby, before he ducks into the hallway.
Seungmin gets dressed alone.
The guilt of what he’s just done begins to creep in when the door shuts, wrapping at his ankles like vines and tugging him down from the post-orgasm cloud nine he had found with Changbin. He doesn’t know how to go to work now, how to look at this man like he hadn’t just knocked something loose in Seungmin.
Like he doesn’t already want Changbin again.