Archive of Our Own

It was Kibum's fault.

When he sat Minho down on the couch, told him he wanted to try something new, then took his hand and placed it on his neck. Minho's hand was limp against his skin.

Minho didn't have to say anything. The look in his eyes was enough. Are you sure?

To which Kibum replied out loud, "I trust you, you know that."

And thus, it was Kibum's fault for starting everything.

In Kibum's apartment, with the bedroom door locked and the black curtains still, Minho's hand showed no conviction as it trembled against the skin of Kibum's neck.

His eyes were wide and frantic, bouncing between Kibum's neck and his face. Minho asked, for what felt like the 80th time that night, "You're sure?"

Kibum regarded Minho, succesfully fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Minho was going through it; it was apparent. Probably was battling the need to keep Kibum safe and the need to give him what he wanted. He was sweet like that. Seriously, how did Kibum find him? How did he keep him? Still stumped him even after all this time.

"Yes, honey." Kibum covered Minho's hand with his own. "Want you so bad," he provoked. He knew how to steer Minho in the right direction.

And that was when Minho pressed. It was only a hint of pressure, not even enough to cut off anything, but god, it went to his head like a shock. Minho's hand was under his, squeezing to dismantle Kibum. There was a commentary in there, but Kibum was loopy, and he couldn't really think too much about anything. Especially when Minho thrust inside him once, and Kibum's body jumped with it.

Minho removed his hold and caressed Kibum's cheek. When he whispered, it was even more delicate than usual, as if he were the one being done like this. "Are you okay?"

With the dopiest smile Kibum could manage, he replied, "Never been better."

Minho trailed his gaze on Kibum, starting from his feet to his tummy to his chest, stopping at the neck, until he reached his eyes. And when they did, Kibum knew Minho was done for. It had clicked inside of him.

Minho took a deep breath. He shrugged off Kibum's hand, leaving his own alone curled around the span of Kibum's throat. That was when he developed a steady pace, fucking in and out of Kibum's hole just the way they liked it. It was overwhelming, always was when it was a stretch like this. That boded well for Kibum. He would never get bored. Would never get used to it when it was like this; burning hot in his belly, pushing and pushing and pushing. So hot, just like that.

"God, fuck— " Kibum moaned.

"Yeah."

And Minho had that look. Heavy-lidded, staring down at Kibum's unrelenting form as he was being fucked up into the mattress. That look was all because of Kibum, and was all for him.

Eventually, that flamed feeling subsided, and what remained was the dear pleasure of their sweaty bodies rutting against each other. Kibum's body was slack. His flesh spilled out from the sheets, dripping to the floor. Loose.

Until.

Until Minho squeezed the side of his neck again, and everything shot into that one sensation: the throb of his throat as it hauled his air inside. Kibum's body strained with the need to become one again, fighting just to fucking breathe. The little bit of air that went inside his lungs wasn't enough. Little wisps that do more harm because all they did was make it obvious what he couldn't have. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe.

And then Minho let go.

Kibum gasped, regaining control of his body, his throat, his life.

He fell into a fit. His system tried its best to recover what it had lost, doing that through huge inhales. It was the only thing it could do. That and finding Minho. Minho's eyes were lazy as he studied Kibum. His composure was rigid, whereas Kibum’s was deteriorating.

A few more breaths, a few more blinks, and Kibum dripped again, even more fluid this time around, as nothing in his body was solid anymore.

A jagged sigh. And with what Kibum imagined to be a smile soaked in ecstasy, he coughed out, "F-feels so good."

Minho ran his hand through Kibum's hair and pecked his forehead. He whispered into his skin, "I love you so fucking much."

Minho resumed his thrusting. Those deep strokes that rocked him inside and out. He couldn't breathe, and now, it was for another reason. So full of Minho, in every way he could be. So much of their lives had been woven together; it only made sense that even here, that was applicable.

Minho pumped into his wet hole, the drag of it inside his walls and the slapping of his hips against Kibum were so erotic and disgusting and beautiful. Add to that Minho's grunts and Kibum's groans, sounds which never hid their feelings.

Kibum moaned at the thought. "More— fuck."

Minho threw his legs over his shoulders. "Yeah? You want it harder?" He came closer, sweat trickling off his forehead straight to Kibum's skin. Some type of blasphemous baptism.

"Minho—shit— More," Kibum emphasized. More, more, more, he would never get tired of asking it; Minho would never get tired of giving it.

Minho smiled that smug smile of his, the one that pissed Kibum off. A vicious breeze knocked inside Kibum. That smile.

To Kibum's surprise, Minho placed his hand on Kibum's stomach. Continuing with his incessant pace, he pushed down on Kibum's tummy.

"God—" He shouldn't. Kibum shouldn't use it like that, but it was the most accurate word that could describe it, describe him.

"Feel how deep I am?" Minho was terrible. He was terrible; maybe he had been the devil all along.

Pressure inside of him, and now outside of him. It tensed Kibum's body, being shrouded by Minho like this. All around, all encompassing.

He wasn't a god, nor a devil, but someone just finite, yet with so much capability.

"More," Kibum said.

Minho listened to him. Laying Kibum's legs on the sheets, Minho took his hand away from Kibum's belly and placed it on his neck again, callused palms against satin skin. Kibum was finite, too. There, they both became whole, much larger than what could be achieved as merely parts or remainders.

This time, when Minho pressed into the sides of his throat, the result was the opposite of earlier. His mind unfurled. It straightened out and flowed out of his ears, where a ringing replaced it but eventually stopped as everything released. Kibum's eyes closed. His throat was doing these pants he couldn't hear, but he felt it nonetheless. Just like how he felt the last remnants of his thoughts slipping away. It accompanied the slowing down of his chest, the drying of his pharynx, the grip Minho had around the white of his neck.

If he let it all go right now, he wouldn't regret it as long as he was with Minho.

Would Minho want that? Kibum's life for him?

Minho removed his hand again. He slowed down his thrusts, resorting to these minute movements that edged Kibum. Kibum felt a thumb trace his lip, swiping on the top, then the bottom, before it inserted itself inside. It tasted a little salty, something akin to seawater on Kibum's tongue. Minho used that thumb to pull down Kibum's jaw. Wide-open. Minho breathed out through his mouth straight into Kibum's. When Kibum's eyes fluttered open, still blurry at the edges, what he found was Minho's offering right there for him. They exchanged breaths, and with it, the exchange of life itself.

Finally, Minho kissed him—all sticky-sweet with its care.

Kibum's arms had a noticeable delay when he wrapped them around Minho's broad and thick shoulders. He intensified the kiss as much as Minho intensified his own fucking. Trying to bring both of them to the end, Minho drove into Kibum as Kibum met him with his hips. His dick was trapped between their sweaty bodies. All the while, their tongues rolled around in their mouths, teeth clicking, lips slick and insatiable. It went on for a long time. That amalgamation. So long that Kibum started losing his breath again, Minho probably felt that way too—the contraction of his trachea as it wasn't allowed to take in any air. What was given to him instead was Kibum's tongue, his lips, his teeth, and his saliva.

It was with that thought that Kibum came.

The release buzzed him out.

It was subsequently replaced by a stream that glided through him. Tranquility that spread from his middle to the end of his extremities. It was so powerful—this trance he was in—that he didn't realize when Minho came. All he knew was that Minho collapsed onto his body, looked at him, with a dazed smile and hair that clung to his forehead, and everything died inside of Kibum.

Minho hugged him and moved them to their sides, all close and cuddling.

Contented, they achieved a serenity that could only be done through transcendence.

Kibum adjusted his position, flat on the sheets, as Minho's arms stuck to his torso. Kibum observed the white ceiling. Vast and hypnotizing. His muscles weren't there anymore, and neither was his mind. What was there was Minho's eyes on him.

And when Kibum turned his head, he saw Minho unabashedly staring at his neck; his gaze was passionate.

Kibum made his way backstage. Minho was following him a few moments ago, but now he was lost in the sea of other idols, mingling out there. But not with Kibum. What was wrong with him? Kibum would break up with him once he found him, he swore.

His schedule this week was arduous. Back-to-back SMTown shows, then preparing for group activities, his shows back home. It was a miracle his legs hadn't given out yet. It was only a matter of time, though, he was sure. Especially now, because instead of going back to his hotel, Kibum was using his legs to run around this big ass space crawling with people while trying to find fucking Choi Minho. Where the fuck was he?

Speed-walking to his dressing room proved to be more of a challenge than he thought. Everyone was rushing. His eyes darted around every face he came across, most of them familiar, but rarely were they as intimate. Some NCT members, Hyoyeon, Super Junior hyungs, Winter, staff, managers, RIIZe, Hearts2Hearts—the group was so young that one of the members' mothers was only 2 years older than him. Chills.

He had talked about it with Minho. How couldn't he when it was the only thing on his mind when he found out about it? Such a slap in the face it was. It was like a leech attached to him throughout the whole week. If he had a child, by this time, he could've seen them grow up and achieve their dreams already, just like he did. With every schedule he attended and with every cooling patch he stuck to his aching muscles, he thought about a child running around the apartment, or even a teenager saying goodbye to him as they left for school.

When Saturday came, when he was sure he couldn't provide any more nutrients to the annoying blood-sucking worm, he sat down with Minho for dinner.

The food was already on Minho's chopsticks, his mouth was already open, when Kibum blurted out I'm old enough to be a father.

Minho's eyes widened. Unexpected, that's for sure. He took his bite and looked at Kibum. Yes, Kibum. We both are. Did something happen?

"Did you know one of the Hearts2Hearts members' parents is as old as Jinki-hyung?" Kibum asked with faux-carelessness.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

And Minho took another bite. Okay.

"It doesn't bother you?" Kibum said with a frown.

"What?"

"That we're old enough to be parents?"

"Well." Minho wiped his mouth. "I've known that ever since I started getting invited to 3 baby showers a year."

"Okay."

"Okay. Something's bothering you. Tell me."

"We're old enough to be parents. But we're not."

"We already have Comme Des and Garçons," Minho joked.

Kibum's voice dipped when he replied, "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Minho grabbed his hand from below the table, placed it on top, and interlaced their fingers. "We could be. Do you want that?"

"Do you?"

"I asked you first."

Kibum stared at their hands and muttered, "I don't know."

"You do want it."

His head whipped to Minho. "I just said I don't know."

"Yeah, but you have that look. All sad and adorable." Minho smiled and tightened his grip on Kibum.

"Stop that. I'm serious." He had known it, of course. There was no way not to, when he had known who he was since he was a teenager, ever since he was Yeon's age. He would never have a child, never see them grow into a person he'd be proud of. It was fine, never thought about it for more than a few seconds. It was only this time that it bugged him enough to bring it up to a partner. Minho, of all people, because of course, it would only be him. In the 33 years he had lived, it was never a big deal except when he was finally with Minho. So basically, this was Minho's fault. For being perfect, caring, whatever the fuck, all the things that would make him a good father, that would make Kibum want him to be. He was terrible.

"I am too. We could be."

"We can't. Why are you so optimistic? God." Kibum rolled his eyes to remove the tears moistening them.

"Why are you so pessimistic? I'm serious. If you want it that much, then we could be."

Kibum ground his teeth to avoid the next sentence. It was still useless because the reply came out anyway. "Do you want it?"

"If it's with you, I do."

Kibum sighed. "Answer me properly."

"Yes." Not even a beat. Minho had probably thought about it before. Kibum should never have opened this conversation up. Never should've opened that part in his chest. He should've let it perish in there until it dried up and all it left was inconsequential dust, until its size was so miniscule that it would've never mattered in the first place, and he accepted that he was desiring the impossible.

"Yah," Minho called out to him. He echoed Kibum's earlier words. "Stop that."

"Right." He ate the food in front of him. Just another thing to mourn, he guessed. He couldn't do everything.

The flavors were all mush inside his mouth, but he hadn't eaten that much the whole week, so he forced himself to swallow it down. Kibum wished he could also do it when it came to his words, because suddenly he asked, "Do— do you—" He scratched his eye. "Do you regret being with me? A man?"

Minho stood up from his seat. "Yah, come on." And without letting go of Kibum's hand, he knelt in front of him. "What are you talking about?"

Kibum choked. "I can't give you that."

"I don't regret being with you, come on, Kibum-ah." He swiped the scar under Kibum's eye. "You're basically my dream." He was so corny. But damn if that didn't give Kibum back some of the blood he had lost.

"You know I can't give you that." Kibum sniffed. "I do too." He was holding it better than expected. "But at least you can find someone who can."

"Yah, seriously, you're pissing me off right now, huh? What nonsense are you spewing?" Minho held both his hands in his. "I can't be with anyone else except you; you have to know that by now." He kissed Kibum's fingers. "You ask me why I'm so optimistic, but it's because if it's with you, well, we can get through it."

So vague in his delivery. Didn't answer any of Kibum's questions. So cloying, too. If it's with you, well, we can get through it. If it were anyone else, Kibum would've laughed in their face. But, as always, it was Minho, and that seemed to be enough of a reason for Kibum. They would be fine because Minho was enough of an answer.

Kibum stared at his hands and rubbed them before weaving his fingers together.

It was fine with Minho. It wasn't now, though, because he wasn't here. Where the fuck was he?

Dizziness exploded in Kibum's head. Painful. It throbbed the most behind his left eye, but the ache infected the other hemisphere of his brain easily.

He probably looked fucking weird right now, standing on the side of the wall, dead gaze on his hands as everyone moved around him. His palms were sweaty. His nails were short. His head hurt. People were just stretches of light in his periphery. He could do this. He just needed to find Minho.

He got shoved to the wall, hands unclasping in the process. He turned his head to the person, and the motion intensified the ache in his brain.

"Oh! Sorry. Are you okay?"

Once the dots in Kibum's sight disappeared and he had a better footing, he recognized the person who had caused the accident.

Kibum breathed a sigh of relief. "Changmin-hyung! Have you seen Minho?"

"I thought he was with you?"

Was he not with him? Kibum laughed a fake laugh. It pulled on his face, and that, too, hurt. "I thought that too, but then he was nowhere to be found. Did he go to your dressing room?"

Changmin put his thinking face on. "I just came from there, and he wasn't. Maybe he's already in yours?"

Kibum was trying to reach his destination, but it was getting harder by the minute as this headache was attacking him on all sides. "That's where I was going. I just don't know why'd he take a detour if we're going to the same place." He laughed again. "But I'm sure I'll see him. Thank you, hyung."

"No problem, Kibum-ah. Tell him I'm free Wednesday next week, he's asking when we could hang out."

Kibum bowed a little. "I will. Bye, hyung!"

Once Changmin was out of his sight, Kibum jogged to his dressing room. No one looked at him too much, or most likely, he didn't notice them. His legs, even with how exhausted they were, seemed to be working even better than before. His body was light. He flew through the crowded corridors and turns before finally, finally, he was at the front of their room.

Kibum didn't waste any time as he grabbed the knob and swung the door open. There—

Nothing.

There was nothing.

He twisted his head from right to left, trying to detect if there was anything he couldn't see. Mirror, couch, their things. No Minho. Just mess.

Kibum weakened. The adrenaline had gone out, and his legs started shaking. He managed two steps to the nearest chair before collapsing. All the while, his mind spun again. He hung the heavy rock that was his head on the backrest, sloppy in the way it was functioning.

He huffed into the empty room. Half-drunk water bottles and hung clothes shamed him

Why was he not here?

He inhaled. Exhaled. Did he go to the hotel already? Minho wouldn't do that to him. Would he? Why wouldn't he have waited for Kibum?

Kibum closed his eyes. Maybe if he fell asleep here, he'd wake up, and Minho would be there. It had happened often enough. At least he wouldn't be awake to experience the dizziness that stunned his mind or the disappointment that dropped into his chest. He interlocked his fingers again. That was a smart plan.

The vines of sleep slowly coiled around his brain. Kibum would be fine.

Kibum enjoyed the middle ground of sleep and awareness. It was here that he found extreme peace, for in this place, all the nuisances drifted away.

A bang shot into the room as the door slammed into the wall. Kibum jumped out of his skin at the intrusion. His body was shocked out of normality. His mind swelled again, heart racing, and eyes desperately seeking the source.

He didn't have any time to figure it out because Minho was in front of him and he was hugging him, and Kibum's arms wound around his neck, of course, and he smelled of sweat and cologne, and it was so warm and gratifying and loving and rewarding, and Kibum felt like he could cry from it.

Minho faced him. He brushed his knuckles in between Kibum's brows and blew on his eyelids. When Kibum opened them, all he sensed was relief. Antidotal.

Minho asked, "Are you okay?"

Kibum voiced out, all whiny and soft, "Where did you go?"

The edges of Minho's eyes crinkled. He smiled so dearly. "I went with Chanyeol to chat for a bit."

"Why didn't you tell me? I was looking everywhere. Even Changmin-hyung didn't see you."

"I'm sorry." Minho cupped his face. An act that Minho once said made him look like a hamster. "Hyung said you were looking for me, so I went straight here."

Kibum wrapped his hand around Minho's wrist and removed his hold on his face.

"Kibum-ahhhhhh. Are you mad at me?"

"I'm not." He looked away from Minho. At least he was here. At least Kibum's head didn't hurt anymore.

"Sure you aren't. I'm sorry."

Kibum scoffed. "You should've told me."

"I know, baby. But I'm here now." Minho kissed his cheek. "I'll make it up to you."

Kibum turned to him again and raised a brow. "How are you going to make it up to me?"

"Like this." And then Minho pecked him on the lips.

Kibum glanced at the door.

"It's locked, don't worry," Minho reassured.

Kibum couldn't worry anymore because Minho surged forward, capturing his lips again until Kibum squeaked. Minho seized his bottom lip as always, sucking on it as one of his hands ended up on the back of Kibum's head. He tilted his head to the right so that he could press their faces together and deepen the kiss. When Minho thought that was enough, he moved on to Kibum's top lip, giving it the attention it needed by enveloping it with his heated mouth, before licking the smooth inside of the full curve. Next, a bite, before he kissed the pain away. It was so great being with Minho in this way, as his hand on Kibum's head brought him solace.

Kibum moaned lowly. He pulled back, catching his breath. Minho's gaze stayed on his wet lips until it slowly drifted up to meet Kibum's eyes.

And then Minho hauled him up, turned them around so that Minho was the one sitting down on the chair, and Kibum was sitting on his lap.

Minho kissed him again. Harder, this time, their lips moving in tandem as Kibum gave the same as he was getting. Then, Minho teased his tongue in Kibum's mouth, these mocking movements where the tip entered Kibum but never fully, and all Kibum could feel was the featherlight touch of it. Where was he going again? Minho truly knew how to drive him crazy. Kibum's body curved into Minho, ensuring he was as close as possible. His arms wound up around Minho's back, and with his grasp, he shoved them together till they were flush. And that force was what caused Minho to finally lick into his mouth. Kibum whimpered. That sweet tongue was finally against his, eager as it moved. Minho licked the underside of his tongue. Sensitive. Kibum trembled on his lap.

Minho pulled off. Kibum tried to chase him, but Minho had other plans as he scraped his teeth against the delicate skin of Kibum's neck. Kibum slapped a hand against his own mouth, careful not to make any sound. They shouldn't even be doing this. People were going to hear them, or the staff would come in soon to clean up the place. But Minho kissed around his throat, small nibbles here and there that he soothed with his tongue, and Kibum got reminded that he was here and that was really all that mattered.

Then, Minho looped his arm around Kibum's waist, and his hand rested on the side of Kibum's neck and— oh. Not pressing. It just sat on there as Minho's thumb did patterns on the front of his throat. Minho continued licking and kissing and then eventually started sucking. He placed his lips against the skin and did some suctions. Kibum resorted to biting his lip instead as both of his hands put themselves on Minho's shoulders. He dug his nails. And Minho, with his thumb at the junction of Kibum's collarbone, pressed. Just a second. Just enough that Kibum felt some tiny pressure.

Even with that, it was like he was back in that headspace, where concerns didn't exist as he hovered over consciousness and unconsciousness.

Minho sucked more fiercely. Kibum scratched into the fabric of Minho's shoulders. He encouraged him, pulling him in so that he could secure Minho and bring him anywhere. That would be wonderful.

Knock knock knock.

"Shit!" Kibum pushed Minho off of him as he fixed his clothes. An urgent Wait a minute! from Minho was shouted. Kibum wiped his lips with the back of his hand and the wetness of his throat with the end of his top. Finally, he ran his fingers through his hair and tamed it.

Minho was doing whatever he was supposed to be doing, and when they looked at each other, they both nodded. They were presentable.

Minho opened the door, and a flood of staff came in, all busy. Both of them said their thanks and their goodbyes before they exited the venue.

Kibum and Minho didn't reach the bed when they entered the hotel.

Kibum's eyes flickered open as some streaks of light hit them. Next to him, Minho groaned. He rolled in his sleep until he faced Kibum. They had a flight in a couple of hours, so they had to start moving. Kibum stretched his body, all loose and floppy. He huffed, and he found that when he breathed out, no tension exited out of him.

He veered his attention to Minho's sleeping form. So tender like this, still so handsome, still so loving. So pure as a person. Not perfect, no, and Kibum would never place that burden on Minho—to be perfect. He has already dealt with too much, already thought that he was insufficient for himself and for the people who relied on him. He could never be inadequate for Kibum. Minho could compress everything about himself, and he'd still be enough. He was pure like that.

"Are you thinking about me?" Minho asked with his eyes closed.

Kibum slapped him on the arm. "You fucking weirdo, oh my god."

Minho peeked through one of his eyes. "You were watching me. Were you waxing poetic in your mind, huh, Kibummie?" He sounded like gravel. The way his voice always did when he first woke up.

"I was, and now that you're talking, I remembered how much I hate you."

"Aww. You're so nice to me. What would I do without you?"

Minho shifted nearer. He puckered his lips like a fish. Obnoxious.

"Yah, your morning breath stinks." Kibum tried to fight him off, but his arms were swiftly taken hostage and pinned down.

"Last night, you kissed me after I ate cum out of your ass—"

"Yah! Stop! You're so disgusting."

"—And this is where you draw the line?"

Kibum wiggled under Minho to escape. Minho, undeterred, made an exaggerated kissy face again and leaned in.

"Nooooo!" Kibum snapped his head to the side to avoid what was incoming.

Minho kissed his cheek with a loud mwah! He trailed his lips until he found Kibum's. When their lips slotted together, an instinct kicked inside of Kibum before it quickly died when the distinct taste of Minho reached him. They've gone through enough, what more this one thing?

That was how Kibum ended up relaxing in the sheets, arms going limp to the point they could have slipped out of Minho's grasp. And that was exactly what they did. They had a much better purpose: to tug Minho until he deposited his body against him. Kibum complains about it, but that bulk brought him comfort like no other. When Kibum, for the longest time, had desired weightlessness, but ultimately, it was that heavy core that actually provided for him.

Their bodies slid against each other. The dried-up sweat from last night was being activated again with the heat and the friction. The sheets were damp because of their fluids. Their sharp mouths. It should be disgusting, and it was, and still Kibum couldn't find it in him to care.

Kibum pulled off. Eyes closed, he rubbed his face against Minho's and purred, "I love you so much."

Minho spoke into his skin, "You really can be so sweet sometimes."

"I'm sweet all the time," Kibum replied. He pursued Minho's lips again. With the way they've been going at it, their lips were probably going to get bruised. All this making out, as if they were hormonal teenagers. There was something to be said about how much and how often Minho made him feel like one. Those typical butterflies in the stomach and heartbeats being skipped. Even at his age, he wasn't immune to them. It made sense. Minho—even if Kibum wasn't aware of it in the beginning—had always been his first love. As the years went by, it only grew with them. Now, even with its tendencies to be juvenile, its foundation was mature.

Minho confirmed, "You are sweet." Pecked him again. And again. And again—

His phone rang.

Kibum groaned. They kept getting interrupted.

Or maybe they shouldn't have been fucking on company time. Whatever. Capitalism winning against gay love. What had this world come to?

Kibum, successfully this time, pushed Minho off him.

He grabbed his phone, trying to stop the alarm. That was when he noticed that the large text in the middle of the screen read "Alarm #3".

Fuck.

"Fuck," Kibum muttered. He bolted upright and started snatching the clothes off the floor. "We have to get going right fucking now. Shit, we only have like, 20 minutes before we get picked up." He threw the clothes into their open luggage. "Okay." He blew some air out of his lips. "I'll shower and you clean up?"

"On it!"

A benefit to having sex while on company time was that he could slip into the shower without having to remove any clothing. It was so attractive, too—that feeling of ridding yourself of any grime. The water ran over his body as it washed away any remnants of their doings last night. The soap replaced Minho's sweat on him, and the shampoo was in between the strands of his hair, like Minho's fingers yesterday. Even if he couldn't enjoy it to its fullest because they were on a time crunch, it still provided relief.

Minho was still packing up as Kibum dug into his bag for some clothes and slipped into them. Grabbing a comb, he brushed through his wet hair. Then, he went back into the bathroom to do his skincare. Everything was laid out in front of him. He opened one of the serums, deposited some into his hand, looked up into the mirror—

Kibum froze in front of his reflection.

He stared at it for what felt like hours, analyzing himself. Stunned. The serum was starting to dry in his palm.

On the left side of his neck, just above his collarbone, was a massive fucking hickey.

And, to Kibum's knowledge, he had really only been fucking one person ever since the year started, so—

"Choi Minho!" Kibum shouted at the top of his lungs.

Preoccupied, Minho replied, "Yeah?"

Kibum washed his hands and stormed into the room. "Yah!"

Minho was still naked and sorting their things. "What, Kibum?"

"Yah! Look at me!"

Minho turned. He had that expression on his face as if asking What?

Kibum pointed to his neck. He observed Minho's eyes slowly widening as understanding caught him.

"Oh.”

"'Oh'?! What do you mean, 'Oh'?!"

"Kibum-ah, I'm sorry," Minho said, pulling out his best puppy eyes. That wasn't going to work on Kibum this time around.

"You're sorry?! What's sorry going to do?" Kibum snagged a pillow and threw it to Minho.

"Ah! What do you want me to say? I'm sorry. No! Don't—" Minho shielded himself as Kibum seized another pillow.

He swatted Minho with it. "Yah! Are you serious?! Are you sixteen? Leaving goddamn hickeys on me? What's wrong with you, huh?" Kibum whacked Minho again.

"Stop hitting me!" Minho caught the pillow and hugged it to prevent Kibum from doing any more damage to him. "What's the problem? You've had them before."

Kibum inhaled. Why was he with Minho again? "The problem," Kibum gritted through his teeth, "is that it was never this fucking big. And we have 10 minutes before the car gets here!"

Kibum climbed into the bed and banged his head into the sheets. Why did he even choose Minho in the first place?

Minho's voice came behind him. "Kibum-ah." A hand touched his back. "I'm sorry. I am. I promise it will never happen again."

Kibum moved his head to glare at Minho. He had this pout that made his lips look infinitely bigger. And his eyes. Jesus Christ, his eyes. It should be illegal to have them if all Minho was going to do was break Kibum down with them. Kibum scrutinized Minho, from his neck to his bare chest, his sculpted abs, and his semi-hard dick. Wait what?

"Oh my fucking god. Are you hard?!"

Minho looked down. And covered himself with a pillow. "Sorry."

Kibum buried his face into the sheets again. This really couldn't be his life.

But it was.

Eventually, he straightened up and sat on the bed to confront Minho.

Slowly, with every syllable pronounced, he asked, "Why are you hard?"

"It's just— well—" Minho avoided Kibum's gaze due to embarrassment.

"What."

Minho pointed to his own neck, then to Kibum.

Kibum looked up to the ceiling. Ah, it would be so great if he were never here. If they hadn't booked just one room, or if they hadn't made out in the dressing room, or maybe if he had never confessed to Minho, or if they had never debuted together. Things like that.

Kibum looked at him, daggers in his eyes. "Minho. Put your fucking dick away, go to the bathroom, and dress yourself. I swear to god, if I see that hanging out—" Kibum ran a hand over his face. "You don't even want to know. Just go. I'm sick of you."

Minho sprinted to the bathroom with his hands between his legs.

They stood in line for immigration.

Kibum wore a jacket to have some semblance of privacy over his body. It wasn't right to flaunt it. It wasn't anyone's business but theirs.

Throughout the car ride and the check-in, they both remained silent. It was not necessarily a fight, but rather a major inconvenience. They both knew this. They just had to let it pass with a fuss. Besides, it wasn't like Minho was faultless in all this. It was all because of his stupid dick in the first place that they were in this situation.

Kibum wasn't sure which one of their affairs resulted in this. In the dressing room, when they couldn't even wait till they were alone, grasping at each other with their tangled tongues, and Kibum clutching at Minho's top to draw them even closer together because he couldn't, would never, get enough. Or was it when they got to their room? When the feverish lust was urging them to get together, and as they crossed the threshold, Minho trapped him against the wall to charge at his lips and his throat and any skin he could come across, and they ended up on the floor, with Kibum on his knees, mewling please please please as Minho had his hand pressing on the back of Kibum's neck as he fucked him from behind.

Recalling it, it started to sound as if Kibum may not be as innocent as he thought he was.

He yawned.

Thankfully, there seemed to be no fans present in the airport. He didn't have any turtlenecks or makeup to cover the mark up. Everything relied on his outerwear, but if there was no audience to observe him, it would seem like he was just a regular person who had a good night. And he did have a good one, if only at the expense of his rest and sleep.

Kibum approached Minho and leaned on his shoulder.

Minho didn't tense up, only leaned down to ask him, "You're not mad at me anymore?"

With a groggy voice, Kibum replied, "I don't know. I'm still thinking about it. I'll let you know when the verdict is released."

"Can I do anything to sway the decision to my favor?"

"Asshole. It was because of you 'making it up to me' that we're here, by the way."

Minho scoffed. "Like you weren't begging for it."

Kibum slapped Minho's arm. "Yah. Don't test me, huh?"

As they prepared for their flight, Kibum wished a silent good luck to his future self for when he eventually would land in Korea.

Kibum enjoyed the comfort of his own bed, not wanting to get up yet. The back-to-back flights will never be easy on him. Before he started the day, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He clicked on the first notification. It was a text from Kany, an HD picture of him at the airport with the biggest hickey known to mankind.

Mariticide had never sounded this good this early in the morning.

Comeback preparations were hard as always, but the satisfaction he gained from producing another body of work always beats the exhaustion.

That's not to say the exhaustion disappeared; it just got overshadowed.

He would be performing his title track for the first time in front of 50,000 people. Jitters were natural, tiredness was natural, and excitement was natural.

What wasn't natural was the way Minho was acting--this attention-seeking attitude had recently come to light. He'd always been like that when it came to Kibum, but now it was distinct. Kibum blamed it on his comeback. It was the first time they were truly apart since they officially got together. They had time before. They made sure to see each other every week, better if it were more often. But with the recent developments, it had to be foregone because the moment Kibum came home from filming, recording, or a meeting, he would pass out, and he'd wake up with the space next to his bed warm and the smell of Minho still stuck in the sheets, but not there.

They kept missing out on each other.

It hadn't been a problem before. They had always been separated individuals who had their own lives, their own homes, their own hobbies and friends. Perhaps it was due to the progression of their relationship, wherein romance and friendship had always been indistinguishable, that it had caused such fascination towards one another. These 2 people who had known each other for so long, and yet could never firmly bond. And when they did, they were not prepared for the mania and the pull that arose from it.

Rehearsals for SMTown were a godsend, even if they couldn't room together. Even if they had to practice or mingle with other people, they still existed in the same place.

The problem was, they were both insatiable.

And my god, was that a problem. Kibum quickly realized the limitations of proximity.

Kibum was preparing for his stage. Only a few more acts and he would perform. The makeup artists fixed his glam, and the tech made sure everything was going well. Minho was on the side of the room, vlogging.

It was something about sports. Kibum always made sure to listen to Minho when he would go on tangents about it. The gleam in Minho's eyes was enough to catch Kibum's attention, even if only a portion of what he was saying made sense to Kibum.

Then, the conversation turned, and Kibum was now involved.

Minho stood up and started filming him. "When are you coming to my channel?"

Kibum avoided the camera, didn't want one of their first interactions in recent memory to be just for the lens. "When you change the theme."

"I can tailor it to the guest, though!"

"Tailor it how? Isn't it a workout channel?"

"No, we do other stuff too."

"Is it just a channel?"

"Yeah! When are you coming?" Minho added, "Hurry up and promise."

See? Attention-seeking.

Kibum replied, "When you change it to a cross-stitch channel." The whole room laughed, and it startled Kibum. Harsh reminder of how many people there were.

He crossed the space. Minho followed him with his camera and stuffed it into his face. He was lucky Kibum had flawless skin.

Minho continued, not backing down, "So you're coming?" He was so persistent. "Got it?"

Kibum breathed out. Did Minho not know how difficult it was for Kibum? They hadn't had any time to themselves. He hadn't been able to kiss him for a few weeks now. Hadn't been able to hold him to the extent he wanted to. Hadn't been able to watch Minho talk for hours before his voice started slowing down, started becoming rougher, until he fell asleep. Hadn't been able to see his cheeks fill up as he ate the food Kibum cooked for him.

Kibum was tired.

"Answer me," Minho demanded.

There was still a camera. So Kibum smiled. "Wait, I can't hear you with my in-ears on—"

And, as if Minho couldn't help it, as if his fingers were dictated not by himself, but by fascination, Minho wrapped his hand around Kibum's throat.

With the camera filming and with people around them, Minho had a grip on his neck, and it was all Kibum needed at that moment. The reassurance that he had craved, that he thought was going to need much more of, was given. That touch, so shameless, so possessive and crude, all there for an audience to see. Or perhaps it was precisely because of that audience that Minho did it. It didn't leave a mark at that time, but it was still sufficient in what it wanted to say.

Kibum did not agree with that, though. Publicizing what they had, the strength that lies in them, felt wrong. The pureness that existed between them should not be tainted by outside eyes.

But Kibum was also insatiable. And at that moment, as if he couldn't help it, as if his body was dictated not by himself but by a need for catharsis, Kibum bent his neck and let Minho's hand consume him.

Fuck.

It really was his fault.

He planned on surprising Minho.

Kibum flipped the kimchi jeon and watched the oil sizzle around it. The other burner had a small pot of tteokbokki boiling. Minho's stove rarely got any use except when Kibum was here. Minho loved Korean comfort food, and it was his first morning back after his basketball game in the Philippines. It only seemed appropriate.

There was already a plate of kimchi jeon set aside. He was just cooking the remaining mixture. Ugh. It felt terrible. Here he was, cooking for Minho again, waiting for him to come home. By this time, Minho would be doing his mid-afternoon workout. They had only been dating since the year started, and yet with every day, they were becoming more and more domestic. Because their relationship was overdue, it seemed as if time was adamant in placing them in the position of a real married couple. What did they say about TV becoming reality?

Kibum deposited the last kimchi jeon on the plate. He turned off the stove and put the tteokbokki in a bowl. Tsk. The sleeve of his shirt was hanging too long and was at risk of grazing the food. Part of the surprise was Kibum himself. When he went to Minho's place earlier that day, he didn't pack an overnight bag. Firstly, because he already had a concerning number of garments in Minho's closets. Secondly, because Minho was a pervert who liked seeing Kibum wearing his clothes. He was predictable in that way. He liked seeing the collar of his shirt so big that his shirt slides off Kibum's shoulder, liked seeing it hang off Kibum's body until it reached just the top of Kibum's legs. And when Kibum tried to reach something, it would hike up, and the bottom of his ass would show.

Pervert.

And yet, here Kibum was, feeding into that fantasy. It was a surprise for Minho anyway.

He set the table and cut up the pancakes. Simple. If he planned a baked dish, made some dessert, and snacks, then it would be an occasion. What he did was cook kimchi jeon and tteokboki. It was different when they were still in the dorms, and he fed 5 people. It's different now when he's wearing Minho's clothes, in Minho's apartment, cooking and waiting for him.

Somehow, it wasn't as terrifying as he thought it would be.

He checked the clock. Minho was going to come home anytime soon. The only thing was that he wouldn't catch Kibum cooking. He wouldn't be able to come up behind him, grind his dick against Kibum's ass until he gets all worked up, and Kibum ends up bent over the counter with his hands scrabbling for purchase and Minho speaking sweet nothings to his ear.

It was fine. Minho would just have to find Kibum's last surprise another way.

Kibum lay on the couch. Should he pose? No. That would be ridiculous. Right? He went on his side and stretched out his legs. No, he looked too stiff. Bent them at the knees. That was better. Should he ride up the shirt he was wearing? His legs were already enough of a tease. If he showed more, then the lace would be too obvious and M— Oh! The door was opening.

Kibum went into position. He heard Minho's footsteps enter the apartment, but couldn't see him yet. They were continuous until they stopped. He was probably at the table.

"Kibum-ah?"

"In here!" Kibum prepared himself. He imagined Minho's reaction. Maybe he'd have a gruff look and would jump Kibum, smothering him with kisses until they're dizzy, and the yearning for something more would be too much.

Then, Minho rounded the corner, and Kibum was way off the mark.

Minho's shoulders were slumped. The corner of his eyes sagged, not unlike the drooping of his lips.

A verocious tenderness shot through Kibum.

"Hey. What are you doing?" Minho questioned meekly.

Kibum sat up. The supposed embarrassment was corroded by the ache he felt for Minho. With the mellowest tone Kibum managed, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Minho's eyes widened before promptly settling down again. "I missed you."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Minho approached him, standing in front.

Kibum craned his neck up. "Minho, seriously."

"Seriously, nothing. Just." Minho shrugged. He cradled Kibum's face; the warmth of his palm spread from Kibum's cheek to his whole body. "I missed you. What are you doing here?"

"I was going to surprise you."

For the first time since Kibum saw him, Minho smiled.

Minho laughed, "Color me surprised." But his solemn attitude remained.

Kibum stood up and embraced Minho. He was all sweaty from his workout, and that made it even better. Kibum was encompassed by Minho's arms, his smell, his sweat, all the things that made him him. He never liked seeing Minho like this, all somber. It was such a cruel scene, one that Kibum thought Minho should never be subjected to. The world never deserved Minho in the first place.

Yet for all he was, Minho was still severely human, and Kibum would never do anything to make him less so. Part of that was the acceptance that he would bear witness to Minho's gray days. Even if it pained Kibum to see him endure them, it was the nature of life itself. And Kibum vowed to experience life with Minho.

Perserverance. It was how they came to be; it is how they shall remain.

Kibum mumbled into Minho's shoulder, "Did you see the food?"

"Of course I did." Minho caressed his hair. "Did you make them for me?"

"Well, I don't see anyone else here, do I?"

Minho chuckled.

"Come on." Kibum grabbed Minho by the arm and dragged him to the dining area. Minho sat down on the chair. Kibum sat on Minho, with Minho's arm encircled around his waist for support. Kibum got a pair of chopsticks and captured a piece of kimchi jeon. He fed it to Minho.

"Mm." Minho swallowed the bit of food. "Was this part of the surprise, too?"

"No," Kibum replied earnestly. "You looked like you needed it."

Minho sighed. He stopped Kibum's hand. "Kibum-ah, you don't have to do this."

He was so fucking stubborn.

Kibum said with conviction, "I don't have to do anything. I'm doing it because I want to."

Who does Minho think he is? Kibum being forced? Laughable. Does care only go one way in this relationship? Is it only allowed when it comes from Minho and not from Kibum? How will fairness be maintained if that were the case?

Kibum knew; he knew it was just how Minho was. Hardheaded when it came to receiving. They both were headstrong in specific ways. Minho liked to brag about 'winning' Kibum over, climbing over the walls Kibum had built, and getting to see him all soft and gentle. It was true. Kibum won't deny that. But Kibum had also won Minho over, had proven how strong his shoulders were, that they were capable of carrying the problems Minho had been sustaining, had demonstrated that Minho would never be a burden for him, that he'd gladly uphold that weight, and even bask in it.

Kibum wound his arm around Minho's neck and fed him another piece. He kissed him on the cheek. It was better to stay with Minho when he was in these moods. Let him loosen up and let it out. It was easier after that, like the mere act of withholding and internalizing was where the majority of the pain lay.

They finished 2 kimchi jeons like that, letting the silence surround them. When Kibum tried to get a piece of tteok for Minho, he politely shook his head and said he was full. A lie, but it signaled the next step.

"Okay. Go shower, and I'll clean up," Kibum said.

"You're not coming with me?"

"I already showered earlier."

"Mm." Minho pressed one last kiss on his forehead. They then both stood up. Minho headed for the bathroom, and Kibum attended to the table.

After the plates had been put in the dishwasher and the food had been put in the refrigerator, Kibum lay on Minho's bed. He heard the shower being turned off, and Minho came out of it with a towel around his hips. He dressed himself and joined Kibum.

Minho lay on Kibum's chest, with his limbs wrapped around Kibum's body.

Kibum ruffled his wet hair. "How are you?"

"Sleepy."

"Okay. Let's sleep."

"No. I don't want to."

"Yah, you just said you were sleepy. Make up your mind."

Minho giggled. "I really missed you. I don't want to miss you again because of sleep."

So sappy, his Minho. Kibum continued playing with the strands of Minho's hair. "Okay. Just make sure you won't pass out on me."

"Who do you take me for? That's only a problem when it comes to you."

"You said you missed me, but you're already bullying me. Minho-yah, I'm really hurt."

"You'll live. You've said worse to me."

"Not true. I say the best things when it comes to you."

"Last week, you said I should just pull out my eyes because if they were that big but still couldn't find your hair dryer, then they were just useless."

"That was last week."

"Okay. Sure."

Kibum closed his eyes and listened to Minho's breathing.

When the atmosphere was comfortable enough, Kibum asked again, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Something small. Doesn't even matter."

Like clockwork.

"It's never small if it bothers you this much."

Minho buried his face against Kibum's pecs. He sighed.

"What is it, huh? Come on, I'm here," Kibum told him.

Minho looked up at him, all pouty and delicate. "The game."

Oh? "I thought you guys won that."

"We did. That's why it shouldn't even be a big deal. But."

But it was, and that was part of the reason why it was a big deal, because it shouldn't have to be.

"What about it?"

"I just—" Minho blinked. "Should've done a better job with it."

A lot of it does come down to this—these expectations Minho placed upon himself.

"Why?"

"I don't know. We won, but it wasn't as satisfying when I knew I could've done better."

Kibum hummed.

Minho continued, "I feel like I let the team down."

How dare they? How dare they make Minho feel that way? Giving Minho such sourness that it carried all the way here, in the comfort of their own bed.

Kibum stomped those thoughts down.

They were always the first bubbles that floated through his brain, and as such, they were also the first ones to burst. Their frequency was concerning, though. The sheer entitlement they demanded never failed to surprise Kibum. Their appearance became instinctual. It was strange to think that way. They never showed themselves in actions, yet they still stayed.

Would Minho hate him if he knew? Or would he revel in the fact?

"How would you have let them down?" Kibum questioned.

"As— as a captain, as a teammate, I should have been more reliable. I mean, fuck, I literally got benched."

It was a sore memory. Kibum threaded carefully. "What would you have done better?" A provoking inquiry that was meant to probe, meant to dig out everything from his regrets to his doubts, so that their roots may never cling and grow inside of him.

"The calls were bad in the first place. They were already a problem. But I shouldn't have pushed, or maybe I should've pushed more. I don't know. I don't know." He huffed. "I'm not sure."

Kibum smoothed Minho's hair. He rubbed Minho's eyes, for they were killing Kibum. He put a kiss on the tip of Minho's nose; Minho melted into him and into the crook of his neck.

"Coach Jang-hoon has wanted me on this team for years, you know this." Minho breathed. "He's been waiting for so long to do this. I can't fuck it up. I can't do that." He hugged Kibum tighter. "I can't do that to him."

Minho's expectations of himself were a double-edged sword, for they were what motivated him to be better, and yet they were also the reason for his dismay. It was the same with everyone, but Minho took it deeper. Strong as he was, he was still only human, and he had limits.

"You're not doing that to him. I don't know if I have a say in this, but I think he's already happy with you being there. Or at least I would be, but I'm biased, so." Kibum scratched Minho's clothed back. "You did well, Minho-yah. You can do better if that's what you want, but you did well. If you gave your best, and I know you always do, then you already did well."

Kibum let Minho flow out. He let Minho drip into him. The droplets of self-distrust evaporated from Minho because of his confession and Kibum's reassurance. Things could be so simple when it came to Minho. Or perhaps, the had endured enough that whatever came would inevitably be simple. Plain. And so far, Kibum has had no qualms with that.

Minho remained silent. It went on for minutes.

Then, Minho switched their positions, with Kibum now lying on his chest. Minho cupped his face using his hands, and Kibum let him.

He pressed a kiss to Kibum's mouth and murmured, "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here, too."

Minho's hands roamed around Kibum's back, messing up the shirt. It felt nice. The shirt was comfortable and airy. A cool breeze swept through his legs. Autumn always brought about the best temperature during afternoons. Kibum's lids were starting to fall; a mid-afternoon nap sounded amazing. By the time they wake up later, it would be cold.

"Oh, what's this?"

"Hm? What's what?"

Minho's fingers trailed up his thigh until they reached his hipbone. He traced the waistband of the underwear Kibum was wearing. Fuck. Right. He had those on.

Kibum covered his bottom with the shirt. "Nothing. Let's go to sleep."

"Was this another surprise?"

It was. When Kibum showered earlier, after he soaped his body and dried himself, he settled himself on Minho's bed. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and fingered himself, inserting them one by one, until he was panting and had to stop because he was going to cum. Then, he put on a pair of lavender lace panties that complemented his cool skin tone. Lastly, he wore Minho's shirt and went about cooking.

With the development of the situation, he must have forgotten it.

"No," Kibum lied.

"Then who was this for?"

Kibum sighed. "You don't have to. You said you were sleepy, I'm sure you're tired after everything." He closed his eyes so he could drift to sleep. He didn't want to impose anything on him.

Minho tucked his finger under the waistband and snapped it back to place. "I always want to."

With his eyes still shut, Kibum replied, "That's impossible."

"You underestimate me."

Kibum thought about it. Did he underestimate Minho? They had an active sex life. While conflicting schedules may disrupt that, they always made sure to offset it. They were basically always horny for each other, and it didn't seem as if Minho was hornier than Kibum. Wait, why was he competing with Minho when it came to horniness?

Kibum said, "You're ridiculous."

"I'm not. It's true."

"You always want to? Be serious."

"Are you any different?" Minho's hand danced against his skin, reaching under the panties to grab hold of Kibum's ass. Kibum trembled. A finger grazed his hole, and Kibum fought the urge to gasp. "Looks like you always want it, too."

"I'm serious. We can do it later or something. You need to rest."

"Why are you cockblocking yourself, Kibum-ah?" The tip of Minho's finger dipped inside him. Fuck. "Sounds like you know what's better for me than I do."

"Yes." It was true. Sometimes Kibum knew what was good for Minho more than he did himself, and sometimes it was the other way around. That was the trust they had in each other.

"How about what's best for you, huh? Kibum-ah?" Minho pushed his whole digit in, lighting Kibum up. "You put so much effort into this. Right, baby?"

"Ah— You overstimate your importance in my life."

Minho chuckled. He removed his finger and flipped them again. This changing of position was starting to disorient Kibum. Minho pulled up the shirt Kibum was wearing, exposing his torso and the full image of the lingerie.

Minho stared at him, eyes raking over his body. He muttered, "Fuck, you look beautiful."

Kibum drank in Minho's gaze. He always made him feel sexier than he ever thought possible. "Mm. You like it?"

"That's why you were posing all weirdly when I came."

Great. Now he ruined the mood. "Weirdly? Fuck you."

"Don't be like that. You looked cute."

Kibum turned his head to the side, and a blush ran up his face. "Shouldn't have even gone here if you were just going to be like this."

Minho lay between Kibum's legs. He kissed the sole of his foot, and Kibum twitched. "You were cute." He kissed Kibum's calf. "Laid up like that, trying to impress me." He kissed his knee. "And now you prepared yourself for me." He bit his inner thigh.

"Fuck—"

Then, Minho licked his skin to calm the bite. He said, "What did you think about?"

"Your— your fingers," Kibum huffed. The comfortable air before became cold when it hit his bare torso. It made him even more sensitive.

"My fingers?"

Kibum nodded.

Minho put two of his fingers inside his own mouth and sucked around them, getting them wet. He pumped them in and out, almost fucking his own mouth with them. So hot. Then, he presented them in front of Kibum's lips, and Kibum knew what to do. He wrapped his lips around Minho's fingers, rolling his tongue around them.

Minho popped them out of his mouth. He said, "Turn around." When Kibum did—on all fours—Minho positioned his fingers against Kibum's taint. With his other hand, he pushed aside the delicate fabric to have access to Kibum's hole. There, he pressed the pad of his wet finger against Kibum's rim. Withholding.

Just the mere pressure of it was making Kibum jittery. He was aching.

Minho asked, "What about my fingers?"

"Inside."

"How many?"

"Just one, at first."

Minho shoved his finger again in one motion, fucking Kibum with it at a lazy pace, like he was waiting for Kibum to give the next set of instructions.

"You kept doing that, just watching it go in and out of me."

Minho obeyed, continuing his actions. His fingers were great at their job, did so well in pleasuring Kibum. Even just the thickness of them was enough for Kibum to go a little crazy.

Kibum continued, "Then you added another one," And Minho obeyed once more. "Ah, but, but it wasn't enough. And you had to get your tongue inside me, too."

"Fuck, Kibum-ah." Minho adjusted his other hand. He claimed Kibum's ass cheek, and with his thumb tucked into the gusset of the panties, pulled it aside for more access. As he settled, Minho's tongue came into contact and licked around Kibum's rim, which was stretched out around his fingers.

"Ah, fuck—" Kibum's head bowed. He felt so wet. Their mixed saliva was fucked into Kibum as Minho's tongue circled Kibum's hole. So silky as it traced throughout, getting Kibum even wetter. And Kibum's cock, god, his cock that was trapped inside the lingerie, soaking it with his pre-cum.

Minho pulled his face back and focused on fucking Kibum with his fingers. He fucked them faster, changed the angle until he hit his prostate dead-on and—

"Oh, fuck," Kibum moaned. He went down as his arms crumpled under him. His cheek was pressed against the sheets, mouth open as he kept moaning because Minho kept thrusting it inside of him, harder, just right where he needed it. And then Minho decided to get his tongue involved again, and shit, shit, shit, Kibum's nails dug into the mattress, felt so fucking good like this.

Minho stopped his mouth to ask, "Did you cum like this?"

"N-no."

"Do you want to?"

"No. I want you inside me."

"I'm already inside you."

"Don't, ah, don't be a dumbass." Kibum breathed. "You know what I mean."

Minho hummed in agreement. "I do." He slid out his fingers. "Need to take care of my surprise, right? Did all this for me, of course I have to give you what you want." And Minho dived into Kibum's hole with his mouth, causing Kibum to cry out.

Minho sounded so smug that he got Kibum like this as if he wasn't losing his mind, too. Kibum couldn't see him, but he probably had spit dripping down his chin, all sloppy and wet as he ate Kibum out. As if his dick wasn't aching to get inside his hole.

Kibum could die from anticipation. "Ming— Minho-yah. Fuck me. Ah, come on. I know you want to." Kibum wiggled his hips to convince him.

Minho went on to handle his ass with both hands, massaging it to his pleasure, getting his tongue even deeper.

"Minho—"

With one last slap on his ass, Minho pulled off.

Minho captured his hips and flipped him.

"Yah, make up your mind on how you want me. You keep turning me over. It's annoying.

Minho laughed lightly. "I want to see your face."

"You're so sentimental."

"What, it's not my fault you look pretty when you're getting fucked."

"And yet you're not doing it."

Minho removed his shirt. Kibum's eyes tracked his whole body, his sculpted abs, his bare arms, already so big even when he was not flexing. His tits. Why were they huge? Seems like their only purpose was to seduce Kibum.

"See? This is why I like it like this. You look at me like that."

Kibum avoided his gaze. Busted. "You keep talking and not doing."

"Why are you so impatient, huh?" Minho slapped the outside of Kibum's thigh. "Earlier, you wanted to sleep, and now you're like this."

"Because you keep riling me up! If you were gonna do this, I should've finished myself off without you."

"Liar. You did yourself all pretty for me. Now it's my fault for taking my time?"

"Yes."

Minho chuckled. "Okay, Kibummie." He shed his bottoms and underwear, his cock springing free.

Fucking finally.

Minho spat on his cock and spread the saliva all over his shaft, kneeling between Kibum's bent legs, and spreading them wide. He, once again, pushed the panties aside and nudged the tip against Kibum's hole, still teasing even here.

Kibum was eager. "Yeah, that's it, fuck me."

Minho pushed in, never stopping, and kept pushing in until everything was in Kibum, until Kibum couldn't speak anymore because he felt it so deep in his throat. Kibum scrunched up his face because the drag inside was rough. Kibum fingered himself earlier, and they did enough foreplay, but Minho's stupid dick had always been big for some fucking reason, and the lack of lube didn't help, and, and, and.

Minho rested for a moment. He came close to Kibum's face and kissed his forehead. "That's it. You can do it."

"Shut up," Kibum gritted through his teeth. He relaxed and breathed through the sensation. He was stretched so fucking wide, and when he looked at Minho, all he saw was the adoration meant solely for Kibum.

This was too much, really.

He let his head sag into the pillow. He focused on adjusting his body; it was going to feel good. It was already good, just Minho's body and his were satisfactory already. Minho's cock inside him, even if it was too much. The way Kibum's body could accommodate it was a miracle, and they both got off on it. Kibum always had to get used to it for a moment, had to talk his body down, and let Minho in. And right now, when it wasn't the most comfortable, and yet that was precisely what made it hot.

Kibum whispered to Minho's ear, "You can move. Make it good, huh?"

Minho smiled. "Is that a challenge?"

"Depends on how you take it."

Minho knelt back and grabbed Kibum's legs, putting them on his shoulders. He pulled his hips back and shoved his cock into Kibum's hole.

Kibum moaned throughout the apartment; the feeling of it knocked any air out of his lungs. At this point, Minho wouldn't even need to choke him to get him breathless.

Minho picked up a deliberate pace, one that was hard but not fast. It was intense. It shook Kibum inside, the dragging of Minho's cock around his walls, the force of it when Minho flushes his hips against Kibum's ass.

Kibum stuttered, "Do— do I feel good?" Because he needed to hear it come out from Minho's mouth.

"Yeah," Minho panted. He kept fucking Kibum good and hard. "Feel so tight around me, baby." Minho licked around Kibum's ankle, biting the thin skin there and kissing it better. "And this." He put his hand on Kibum's hips and grabbed the side of the panties. "You look so fucking hot." Slamming into Kibum, Minho grunted.

Kibum looked down at his cock. It was stuck inside the delicate fabric, wetting it and getting it all dirty. The lace slightly scratched at his cock, adding another stimulus. Fuck. And, Minho was not stopping, of course. He kept ramming into Kibum, with the panties just shoved aside, like it was evidence that the lust took over them, and they couldn't help it. It was tugging on his rim every time Minho drove in. It was erotic. Obscene.

Minho relocated Kibum's legs and placed them on his waist instead. Then, he adjusted his position and drew nearer to Kibum. Both his arms held him up as he fucked into Kibum.

"And this, huh?" Minho rasped. He pulled the collar of the shirt Kibum was wearing and dragged it down his shoulder. "Wearing it when you know it drives me crazy. You're perfect."

It drove Kibum crazy, too. The way the shirt ate him up. The way it draped off his frame, close to falling off. It was long enough to cover his legs, big enough to swallow his body. The sleeves ended on the inside of his elbow. And now, as Minho fucked him while he was wearing the shirt, it emphasized the contrast in their figures.

Kibum whimpered at that. "Fuck, yes, yes." He scratched his nails across Minho's back, wanted to leave something for him, so that when he looked in the mirror by himself, there'd be a souvenir of his surprise.

Minho smiled because he always loved this part where Kibum went insane with it. Egotistical man.

He went back on his knees, not faltering on his rhythm. Then, he splayed his hands on Kibum's waist, like he was comparing their proportions. Minho stared. He stared at how the expanse of Kibum's belly could fit under his palm. He stared at his fingers as they danced to Kibum's flank. He stared at them as they squeezed Kibum's waist, and a burst of pleasure fired inside Kibum. When he followed Minho's sight, he saw how much space Minho's hands occupied, how, while his fingers didn't touch, only a small distance remained in between them.

"Oh, fuck." Kibum's mind whirled. Oh, how he loved it. He loved how Minho's biceps bulged when he was carrying something and how his own were smaller compared to Minho's. The discrepancy was the starkest in their forearms. Veins were prominent on Minho's. They were thick, and Kibum's were not. Even if their hands were the same dimensions, nothing else was. Minho's shirts were twice as huge. The plumpness of Minho's strong legs, as opposed to his own slim ones. Minho's six-pack, compared to the toned figure of his waist. Minho's full pecs and his own flat chest.

Kibum took one of Minho's hands and put it on his neck.

Minho knew what to do. He pressed on the sides of Kibum's neck, cutting off a good chunk of air.

Kibum sank deeper into his thoughts as the physical seemed so far away. He loved it. Loved feeling small when it came to Minho. Not entirely on the bodily sense, but small in the sense that he had security, that he was safe under his hands, between his arms, and in his heart.

That should be the case when it came to him only because no other person deserved Minho like this, and Kibum hoped every person Minho fucked, dated, and loved in the past forgot the feeling Minho evoked in them; they weren't worthy enough to remember, much less experience it. Besides, none of them would hold a candle to what he and Minho have now. None of them would comprehend how deep their devotion lay.

Ah, his head was really going all over the place.

Minho kept at it for a few more seconds before letting go.

Kibum coughed to test his throat. It was like trying on new shoes; it needed to be broken in. He took in breaths through multiple gasps, and yet it was only when Minho kissed him again that he felt his throat working again.

Minho asked, "Can I, Kibum-ah? Please?"

Kibum didn't know what Minho was asking for, but it didn't matter because the answer would always be, "Yes."

Minho started licking around his chest and his neck. He kissed the heated skin just above his collarbone before sucking on it.

"Oh— what are you doing?" Kibum groaned as Minho paid no attention to it and continued marking and fucking him.

As Minho drew on Kibum's skin with his mouth, Kibum writhed under him, overly sensitive with everything. Minho bit and licked and sucked wherever he saw fit, all until red splotches coated Kibum's chest, with a few just above it. They would surely bloom after this.

Minho stared at Kibum. His scrutiny was fierce, and his thrusting was unrelenting. Kibum puffed his chest, and with his heavy-lidded eyes, he looked up at Minho and matched the intensity of his gaze.

Minho smiled, all dazed and amused, and said, "I love seeing you like that—covered in me." His eyes softened. "Like mine." And Minho kissed him.

It was so saccharine, but said with so much earnestness, that it could not be helped how it struck Kibum. It was just so Minho, in how he operated, in how he said things, in how he loved Kibum. In that sincerity is truth, one that Kibum lived with, too.

There was no question of belonging when it came to the two of them.

Kibum kissed Minho back, meant to be an acknowledgment of what he said, of what he felt, and what they stood for when it came to the two of them.

Minho rubbed Kibum's cock through the lace. With the swell of emotions and sensations, Kibum came inside them, dirtying them up.

Minho gave a few last thrusts and emptied himself inside of Kibum. He collapsed on Kibum's body. That warm weight once again enclosed him.

They caught their breath, exchanging sweet pecks. The air was thick. The sheets were rumpled.

Eventually, Minho rolled off of him. And because he was terrible and everything, he kissed down Kibum's already wrecked body until he was face to face with his limp cock.

"Kibum-ah, they're ruined," Minho said as he observed the panties.

Kibum could imagine it. As he looked down on himself, he saw his twitching cock trapped. The front of the lingerie was wet and soggy. He could imagine Minho's view— that, but also with Kibum's fucked-out hole, leaking out Minho's cum. It was disgusting. He agreed, they were ruined. They should probably throw it out after this. Kibum was ruined.

"Stop staring," Kibum grunted.

Minho, fucking Minho, instead took his thumb and dug it a little into his hole.

"Yah!" Kibum tried to shout. His voice wasn't cooperating that much anymore.

Minho licked a stripe over the fabric, across his hole up, up, up until he reached the head of Kibum's limp cock. Kibum shook. Too much. It was too much.

Minho did it again, another long path, picking up some of the cum and getting it on his tongue.

"Minho-yah," Kibum croaked.

Minho played a little with the front of the panties, inserting his hand and stroking the tip of Kibum's cock. Then, he came up and presented his index and ring fingers to Kibum. Covered in his own cum.

Minho said, honey-sweet and precious, "Come on, taste yourself." Genuine, even in here, too.

They had already ruined each other, hadn't they?

Kibum took Minho's fingers in his own mouth. The intimate flavor of cum hit his tongue, all salty and bitter. He got his tongue in between Minho's fingers and licked everything up, staring at Minho while doing it.

When they were clean, Minho pulled them out of his lips and replaced them with his own tongue.

Kibum broke the kiss first. He lay on the bed, indecent and lewd, but most of all, loved.

The I Live Alone makeup team took great care of Kibum. They were good at their job, always serving beautiful faces. As he sat in the makeup chair, with only an hour left before filming, he stared at the skin-colored tape that covered the skin above his collarbone and felt it did not belong on his body.

Kibum watched Minho in front of him drink his hot coffee. It steamed into the air and curled into Minho's cute face.

"Is it good?" Kibum asked.

"Yeah. How about yours?"

The coffee Kibum ordered was bitter, but he stomached it. At least it kept him toasty.

"It's fine."

"How about the sandwich?"

"That one is good." Kibum sliced off a piece of it and put it on Minho's plate.

Minho ate it in one bite. His eyes widened, and he nodded. "It is good."

"Right."

"Who knew this place was here, huh? I can't believe we haven't been here before."

Kibum agreed. They went to a quaint coffee shop, a hole-in-the-wall that provided good food and privacy. They never knew it was here. Apparently, the cafe had been running for a few years, and yet it was only now that they discovered it. Having free time because of his hiatus made him more aware of his surroundings. There were a lot of things to find.

Minho bit another piece of Kibum's sandwich.

"You should've just ordered one yourself if you were going to hog mine."

"Sorry. Do you still want it?"

Kibum sighed. He pushed the plate to Minho; he was getting full anyway. "No, it's all yours."

"You're sure?"

"Does it look like I'm not?"

Minho pouted. "Okay." He ate the sandwich, even if he did look a little guilty doing it.

The cold weather was appropriate for his outfit—covered head to toe. It provided him with an ample amount of heat without making him feel queasy.

Minho offered his hand, a piece of the bread between his two fingers.

Kibum eyed it. Then turned to Minho, then back to the sandwich. And again to Minho. "What? Are you gonna feed me?"

Minho joked, "Do you want me to?"

Kibum's eyes raced around the cafe—a habit he became even better at than before. There was no one else but them. Right. They picked it because of privacy.

Kibum took the sandwich and ate it.

They perused the baking aisle. It was something Kibum had been trying recently. Though it was more difficult than cooking—as improvisation wasn't a factor—there was delight in producing a dessert brought on by specificity.

He snagged a few bags of flour along with some baking powder and soda, vanilla extract, and cocoa powder. He would bake a cake later, he decided. Or maybe some fruit tarts.

"That's a lot. You're baking for the whole city?"

"Yeah," Kibum replied. He could give some to his friends. It would be a good excuse to see them, even if he had already been seeing them more often lately.

"Am I going to get one?" Minho asked.

"If there are leftovers, jagi, they'll be for you," Kibum snarked.

"I only get leftovers?" Minho had a schedule later in the day. He had to leave in a few hours.

"If you pay for the ingredients, I'll make sure to bake an extra one just for you."

"Are you bribing me?"

"Bribing?" Kibum scoffed. "I'm literally doing free labor for you."

Kibum's finger was coiled around Minho's belt loop as he watched Minho pay for the groceries.

As they walked to Minho's car, Kibum's finger remained there, holding on to Minho.

Comme Des and Garçons greeted Minho first when they entered the apartment. Traitors. Minho hugged them and let them jump on him, so pleased. The scene wasn't unfamiliar by any means, but the fact that they went to Minho first signaled that something was wrong. They always expected Minho now.

It wasn't surprising. Even with the frequency with which Minho went to Kibum's home before, it never reached this point. Now, Minho basically lives here. They drove his car to do errands, came home, and either stayed in or parted if they had plans individually. It was never brought up. It just happened.

The timing was key, of course, but Kibum never complained that Minho returned to him every day. That he would roll over in the middle of the night, and bump against a body, and Minho would hug him and pull him closer.

Minho still went to his own apartment if Kibum had guests over or if Kibum wanted to be alone.

Otherwise, Minho was always here.

And so, it was natural for Comme Des and Garçons to expect him.

Kibum went to his room and removed his outside clothes. He paid no mind to the splotches of bruises across his chest and throat and dressed himself in a sweater and some sweatpants. He heard Minho arrange the groceries outside his room.

After, Minho came to his room, with CommeGa following behind him. Did they forget who their actual father was?

The three of them jumped on Kibum, attacking him with kisses and hugs. His cherished home was always so precious and affectionate, even if they pissed him off sometimes.

Minho sheltered him away from CommeGa. "No. He's mine."

To which the dogs barked. Very loudly. Maybe they did still remember their father.

Kibum mumbled into Minho's body. "They had me first." He stuck out a hand and petted them.

"Not true. I knew you before they were even born."

Kibum smacked him in the arm. "Are you seriously competing with dogs right now? Also, they're like, grandfather-age in dog years. So they've had me longer."

Minho rolled his eyes and lay beside Kibum. Each dog went to them: Garçons to Kibum, and Comme Des to Minho. Blatant favoritism.

Garçon's fur was silky. Their new shampoo was doing wonders.

After a while, Kibum thawed into the sheets. CommeGa seemed to have their fill as they exited the room, leaving him and Minho alone.

Minho hugged his side. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Best as he could be. Shortcomings come from where you are comfortable, he was reminded. It was in the places you were content in where mistakes were most likely to be made because the confidence blinded any possible error. That was it, an error. It was made, it was done, nothing could change the fact. Blame and anger, while they lingered, and will always linger, were futile. It was done. There was only the future to look forward to. Think of today and tomorrow. What mattered was that Kibum was here, and a future was still there.

"You have to bake for me."

Kibum chuckled. "Let's see."

"Yah, I bought the ingredients, come on."

"I'll think about it."

"Kibum-ah. Please, please, please." Minho stroked his hands against Kibum's neck, trailing his fingers until they came up on Kibum's temples. He placed his thumbs on the hollowness and rubbed the skin in circles.

"Mm. Keep doing that." Kibum closed his eyes and let the touch burn into his skin. "I'll make sure you have the best one."

"Are you tired?"

"No."

Because even though he was exhausted, it came from nothing. It had no origin and thus, no justification. Sometimes, Kibum would wake up after a full night's sleep and beg his body to fly back to where it was, for it was still so drained. Sometimes, when Kibum was doing chores, his muscles would ache, like the fibers of them were separating, and he'd put on his trusty patches, but they wouldn't solve it. It left Kibum thinking if it ever even existed.

It was in the same vein that phantom tiredness operated.

Kibum assumed it was his body failing to catch up. His mind was doing well, all things considered. It had been a couple of months already, thoughts that marathoned in his head every living moment eventually slowed down, until one morning, Kibum woke up, and his first thought wasn't filled with regret, shame, and hatred; instead, his first thought was what to have for breakfast. Even his mind got tired, too.

Eventually, his body would bounce back, and it would be fine.

It would be fine. Kibum would be fine.

Even those words got tired too.

He felt Minho kiss him on the forehead, and his eyes fluttered open.

Minho gleamed at him, and he massaged Kibum's temples one last time before apologizing. "I'm sorry, Bummie. I have to go now."

"Oh."

Minho pecked him on the lips. "Text me if you need anything."

Kibum nodded. "Okay, take care."

Minho left the room. He heard the front door open, but before Minho left, he shouted, "I expect a pastry when I get home!"

Kibum smiled.

And thus, he was alone again.

He had never been the type of person to hate his own presence; that wouldn't change now. Solitude was always welcome. It was just that sometimes, solitude carried with it unpleasant guests.

Kibum pressed his fingers against the loving bruises on his skin. He would bake something later.

No bother, Kibum would be fine.

Kibum slept and wished that when he woke up, he would be rested. One day, it would come true.

Spring came, and with it, the serenity Kibum had been asking for.

Having something to look forward to was much more invigorating than he expected. While plans were set way before, with the disruption came the distance of their next project as a group, as if it were much farther away than before, even if that was not the case. But as they started recording, a newfound sense of tranquility arrived. Being needed as much as he needed others.

Kibum watched Minho's story. It just kept going. The thin gray lines at the top of the screen became dots because of how many there were. Still, he watched all of them, some of them even twice. Taipei looked good on him, but it was Minho, so everything looked good on him. That radiant smile, the one that made his cheeks all fluffy, as fluffy as his soft brown curls.

They wouldn't see each other until the end of the week, until Kibum came home from his Shanghai trip.

Kibum observed the clean, spotless expanse of his chest, of his skin. Unblemished.

He sighed, a dull ache settling in his temples.

He rewatched Minho's stories.

All of it documented his 1st place in Hyrox. There was no better view than seeing Minho achieve what he had long been working for. It was the other edge of the sword. When the expectations were met, he glowed with pride and benevolence. Minho was human; he had limits, and Kibum thought it was the best thing about him. Seeing him succumb and eventually win against them vitalized Kibum, for he saw how much Minho needed him too.

Kibum's fingers tightened against his phone as pain raged inside his head. He should sleep. Sleep actually accomplished what it ought to accomplish, now.

He set aside his phone and turned off the night lamp. He shut his eyes.

The silence was disturbing as it was the only thing accompanying him. The black behind his eyes only amplified the ache in his head as it bounced around his skull. In the nothingness, the pain seemed hyperactive. It racked Kibum. Torturous. With no distraction, he was held hostage by it.

He had to escape.

The threads that sewed Kibum's lids together were tight, but little by little, the fibers snapped, and when Kibum's eyes flew open, they all ripped.

Panting, he stared at the darkness. Then, the saccades happened. They pulled his sight in every direction, amplifying the swelling in his mind to the point it would pop.

Gathering every ounce of energy, he searched for the night light with his hand. Once he was met with a switch, he flipped it on.

The brightness illuminated the part of the room. Kibum could make out the bed, the luggage open on the floor, his body, still one, still working. He was still here.

He reached for his phone.

He called Minho. It was late, and he was probably tired or celebrating, but Kibum did not stop as the sound of his phone ringing filled the empty room.

"Hey," Minho said into the phone.

Kibum sighed. "Hey." His voice was shaky.

"Staying up late?"

"I couldn't sleep," Kibum admitted.

"Mm. Anything I can do?"

"Just be here with me."

"Okay. How are you?"

"Come on. What kind of question is that?"

Minho chuckled. "Sorry."

The sound made Kibum smile, too. "Congratulations on the race."

"Thank you." Even with the fatigue, Minho's voice dripped with joy. "I'm so happy. It's my first one."

"I know. You worked so hard for it." Kibum rested his hand against his neck. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Bummie. We ate a lot after; I invited everyone. The food was good, too. Not as good as yours, but you know, we have to manage while we're apart."

Kibum lightly laughed. He was absurd.

Minho continued, "Beomseok-hyung was amazing too. He was so happy. Ah, I can't believe I got to do this with him."

"Mhm." Sacraments are tangible things that bring about the intangible, the divine.

With Kibum listening to Minho came a swash that brought about stillness after. As the water washed away any disquiet, it became one with the sea. Baptized. It freed Kibum from any shame. And with it, arrived the tangibility of their union.

"It feels like just the start, you know? I'm energized. I still want to have a first-place solo. That's my next goal. Hopefully, it won't be too hard."

"Nothing is too hard when it comes to you. You can do it." Anything could be a sacrament, as long as it served its goal. With Minho and Kibum, it was the way their fingers slotted together, the kisses Minho gave his cheek, Minho's hand on his throat, the thumb Kibum pressed to the creases beside Minho's eyes, the marks Minho left, the arms Kibum used to embrace Minho.

"You're so nice. Do you miss me that much?"

"I miss you." Even with the humanness and the finiteness of each other, their union was anything but. These sacraments pointed to the divinity present within and between them.

In the dreamiest tone Kibum had ever heard, Minho said, "I miss you, too."

"I wish you were here."

Minho cooed, "I wish you were here, too."

Kibum's clothes in Minho's closet, Minho's toothbrush in Kibum's bathroom, Kibum's hair dryer in Minho's room, Minho's protein shakes in Kibum's fridge, all of these were evidence of their loyalty, their passion. And though these physical proofs may be unnecessary, they still brought about the satisfaction of knowing they were for each other.

Kibum's lids started drooping. "When you come back, come—" He yawned, mouth stretching wide. "Come home." Kibum settled back into bed, the phone next to his head on the pillow. He was having a hard time keeping awake. But before the throes of sleep could get him, he managed to let out, "Come home to me." Kibum closed his eyes, and a warm and weighty ambiance enveloped him.

Minho's whisper came through the phone, clear and soothing when he answered, "Always."