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Every time Minho blinks, he sees Seungmin's face on the back of his eyelids. He'd been smiling without any of his teeth, his jaw relaxed, his brow furrowed. And he'd been staring down at the kid. The kid in Minho's lap, pudgy and warm and solid against his chest. The cameras had been off. Seungmin had given the kid an indulgent pinch on his cheek anyway.
"Have you ever thought about whether you want kids?"
Minho hadn't meant to ask the question. It's just—the waiting room had been so quiet. Minho is okay with quiet, more than okay with quiet, especially around Seungmin, but there had been something unresolved about the silence. He'd kept glancing over at Minho, looking at him like there was something he wanted to say. But he hadn't said anything, and Minho had kept pretending to stare at his phone, and neither of them had commented on it because they both got equally annoyed whenever the other person caught them paying too much attention.
Seungmin takes a long time to answer. Minho starts bouncing his knee impatiently. "Yes. Maybe," Seungmin replies eventually. "With the right person."
The right person. Not the right girl. Seungmin is staring directly at Minho. He stops bouncing his knee.
"What about you, hyung?" Seungmin asks. "Would you ever want kids?"
Minho already knows his answer, has known it since he saw that look on Seungmin's face, but he pretends to deliberate. "After today, sure," he says. It's the exact same answer as Seungmin's. They both know it.
The room goes quiet again.
"But there's no point in asking. It's not like I can…" Minho makes a half-hearted hand gesture, pointing vaguely at his stomach. "…you know."
He expects Seungmin to laugh. He wants Seungmin to laugh so that they can stop talking about this, so that the prickling pain in his chest would disappear, or at least fade into the background. Instead, Seungmin shakes his head and says, "I like this. I like us."
Minho's ears go warm. Seungmin grins and rubs his earlobe between his fingers. "Cute," Seungmin says, almost off-handed. Minho just lets his ear be touched.
Seungmin and Felix's apartment smells like coffee and clean laundry, which is to say that it smells like their old dorm, which is to say that Minho is wondering what it would be like to live with Seungmin again, just the two of them. And maybe one more.
"Yongbok is going to be out for at least the next four hours." Seungmin finishes locking the door. When he turns around, Minho is right in front of him. He startles.
"That's nice," Minho says, reaching up to pick a piece of lint off Seungmin's shirt collar. He lets his hand linger near his neck, fingertips brushing against the hollow of his throat. Seungmin swallows. Minho watches him. "What do you wanna do, then? Put on a movie?"
He slides his hand over to the back of Seungmin's neck, then lets it settle on his nape, heavy. Underneath Seungmin's flushed skin, Minho can feel his pulse. Minho's pulse answers back, insistent in his throat.
"Ditto," Seungmin says. "Depends on the movie." Minho isn't sure how Seungmin's arms ended up around his waist. He's not complaining.
"Mm, scrap that idea. We don't like the same movies anyway." Minho takes a step closer. Seungmin does the same. Their bodies are pressed flush against one another now.
"Yeah, we don't," Seungmin says, his voice going low as Minho lazily massages the back of his neck. Seungmin slips his hands under Minho's shirt and presses four chilled fingers into the small of his back, then starts tracing small spirals onto his skin. He smirks when Minho shivers. "Funny how that works, huh?"
The setting sun has drenched the entire apartment in amber. Seungmin's face glows golden. Minho wonders if he looks the same in Seungmin's eyes.
Minho is the first to lean in, but Seungmin closes the gap. Usually, they kiss the way they talk to each other: sharp, quick, and only half-serious. Today, Seungmin sets the pace from the start, slow and deliberate, like he's making an argument. Like he's trying to convince Minho of something.
Seungmin skims a hand further up Minho's back, then stops at his scapula. He splays his hand flat between Minho's shoulder blades and scratches softly at the skin. Minho's breath stutters.
This isn't—Minho isn't used to this. He's used to teeth around his throat. Seungmin's hair gripped tight in his fist. He's used to playing games, and he knows what to do with a game: win it. This… he isn't sure how to win at this.
So maybe he stops trying to win.
Minho moves his kisses from Seungmin's mouth to his jaw. He slips the hand on Seungmin's nape down under his collar. Then, he throws his other arm over Seungmin's shoulder, interlocking his fingers, thumbs finding the spot where jaw meets neck. Seungmin giggles—half ticklish, half just happy Minho is still here, happy to be chosen. Then Minho grazes his teeth over the sensitive spot on his neck, and Seungmin makes a very different noise. He grabs Minho by the wrist and pulls him toward the bedroom.
Seungmin is moving very, very slowly. Minho hooks his leg behind the backs of his knees, urging him closer, but Seungmin continues at the same leisurely pace, mouthing kisses on Minho's neck.
This, too, is unlike them. Minho thinks missionary is boring, and he prefers being on top anyway. And yet, Minho is so hard that when Seungmin's thumb brushes up his length, light and teasing and only for a few seconds, he has to bite his lip to keep from whimpering.
Seungmin's hand trails up his stomach, his sides, his chest. He can't stop touching Minho—not desperately, more like he's simply letting his hands wander where they want, and this is where they've decided to go. He's still kissing Minho's neck, still fucking him at a steady, measured pace, and it's all—it's just a lot.
Seungmin moves his hand from Minho's bicep to his wrist and drags his fingertips along the side of his hand. Before Minho even registers what he's asking, he takes Seungmin's hand in his and interlaces their fingers.
He doesn't think they've ever held hands during sex before. He's acting like this means something, says a small, scared voice in the back of his head.
Seungmin squeezes his hand once, then again.
It does, says a second voice, and it sounds a lot like Seungmin's. Minho squeezes back.
Seungmin pulls his mouth away from Minho's neck. His jaw is loose, his eyes just slightly unfocused. He moves his hands to Minho's hips, then his thighs, and he says, "Put your leg up." Not a command. Just a suggestion, flat and practical.
Heat rushes through Minho's stomach. He doesn't say anything. Just lets Seungmin push his knee to his chest.
This position is—yeah. It's better. Seungmin is deeper now, brushing up against a spot inside of Minho that makes him choke out a gasp into the crook of his neck. Minho throws his arms around Seungmin's shoulders and grips the base of his hair. Seungmin's stomach brushes up against his cock with every thrust, and he is so past the point of filtering what comes out of him when he says—
"You're so deep." Minho moves one hand from Seungmin's neck to the side of his face, cupping his cheek. "You're actually going to get me pregnant."
Seungmin breathes out hard and all at once. He stutters to a stop and stays like that for a while. Then, he starts rolling his hips, grinding his cock against Minho's sweet spot. Minho digs his nails into Seungmin's shoulder blades, hard.
"Hyung," Seungmin says, nearly whines, dropping his forehead to Minho's shoulder, cheek pressed up against the inside of his thigh.
Minho's gums start buzzing. He doesn't give a reply. Seungmin isn't looking for one.
When Seungmin starts moving again, he seems to have half-given up on the idea of self-control. He's erratic, a little desperate, like he's chasing. Minho lets himself be caught.
Breathing harshly against Seungmin's ear, Minho says, "I wish I really could get pregnant."
Seungmin gives a low groan. "Minho," Seungmin pleads, and he's never heard his name said like that before, rough and wrecked and desperate for something only Minho can give him. His thighs tighten around Seungmin's waist.
Minho knows that this will turn every unspoken thing between them solid. He says it anyway, softly, with both hands cradling Seungmin's face—"Jagiya."
Seungmin makes a muffled sound against his mouth. He stops holding back, and he starts fucking Minho without any grace or shame, hips snapping urgently. Minho pulls his face closer and kisses him, light, lazy pecks on his lips. And then Seungmin says it back.
"Jagiya." An echo of Minho's want. Minho squeezes his eyes tight, just for a moment, just to reorient himself so that his head doesn't spin off his shoulders. He opens them.
"Get on your back." Minho says it in the same clipped, instructional tone as Seungmin had told him to put his legs up, no heat, just logistics. Seungmin blushes and does what Minho asks.
They switch spots, Minho's legs straddling his waist, palms flat against his chest. He guides Seungmin in, and they both curl their fingers into fists when Minho has sunken all the way down. "Ah—hngh," Minho whimpers, blinking quickly as he adjusts to the new angle.
Seungmin's hands have settled on his waist. Not gripping, but still a little possessive. Minho starts moving. Seungmin's hands are tense, and his jaw has gone tight, like he's concentrating hard. Minho keeps moving, rolling his hips every time he reaches the hilt. He's probably being too loud, he thinks, can feel his moans rumbling in his own chest, but all Minho can hear is Seungmin's shallow, uneven breath.
Seungmin lets him take what he wants for a little longer, even as his grip on Minho's waist has started stinging. But then he loses his patience mid-descent, and he snaps his hips up, digging his fingers in harder. Minho's arms buckle. He feels himself start to fall forward, and he thinks maybe it's okay not to always be in control, especially when he has Seungmin to catch him afterwards.
Crumpled against Seungmin's chest like this, their foreheads touch, noses brushing. Not kissing, just breathing the same air. Minho's hands are on Seungmin's face again, and Seungmin's are on the small of his back, and neither of them moves because neither of them wants to move.
Minho has never seen Seungmin's face up close like this before. He keeps his eyes open.
Seungmin is the first to continue what they started. He drives up into Minho again, and Minho stops thinking entirely. His thighs tremble and tighten around Seungmin's waist as he fucks him, as he lets himself be fucked. Neither of them is controlling the pace anymore. Neither of them particularly cares.
Minho can tell that Seungmin is close when his jaw goes completely slack, digging his fingers into the hollow of Minho's back to push him closer, deeper, because even this much is not enough. Minho lets out one more breathy noise, quiet enough that Seungmin would have to really listen to hear it, and then Seungmin wraps his hand around Minho's cock and comes inside him. Minho follows soon after, thrusting up into Seungmin's warm hand as he keeps riding him. Seungmin whimpers from the overstimulation, but his hips keep still.
They stay pressed together for a brief moment longer. The hunger and desperation exhale from their lungs, replaced by a quiet contentment. Seungmin grabs wipes from the drawer. Minho stays still.
Seungmin has on that same expression from earlier: soft smile, relaxed jaw, furrowed brow. Sometime in the past hour, the light in the apartment cooled down, going from amber to indigo. Minho glances out the window and notices the moon where the sun used to be.
They settle on their sides, facing each other. Seungmin presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. A footnote. Minho runs his thumb down the bridge of Seungmin's nose and says, "I wonder whose nose they'll get."
Seungmin takes Minho's wrist and presses a kiss to his palm. He drags his lips up to his knuckles, the tips of his fingers. Then, he laces their fingers together and squeezes. Minho gets that same prickly heat in his chest, only this time, he doesn't mind it. "Would you care either way?" Seungmin says.
Minho doesn't answer. He nuzzles into Seungmin's chest, breathing in the scent of sweat and fabric softener. Then, he squeezes back, not letting go of his hand. They have a little more time before Felix gets back.