Chapter Text
Hyunjin’s outrage knew no bounds.
But his patience did have a limit, and the last flammable drop could fall onto his blazing ego at any second, blowing up the whole fucking apartment.
All he wanted was to hang out with his friends, eat some pizza, drink beer, and just have a good time. Like every other weekend. But noooo, a month and a half ago Chan had to drag some random dude to his place, introduce him to everyone as Lee Minho, and then wink, adding that he and Hyunjin would definitely get along.
Why Chan said and did that — easy to explain. In this circle of testosterone-fueled straight guys — Chan, Changbin, Jisung, and Jeongin — the only gay guy had always been Hyunjin. But that didn’t mean Hyunjin was the fifth wheel, a spare prick at a wedding, or whatever. He could hang with the guys as equals — sitting with his legs spread wide, burping, cackling like a dumbass, and most importantly, bragging about how he’d once again railed some skinny little twink. In Hyunjin’s opinion, that was the secret for gaining the respect from others. Yeah, he was gay, but always the top. He’d never let anyone fuck him in the ass, and he wasn’t about to start.
Once, Jisung made a bad joke about Hyunjin’s “gaping asshole,” but was quickly shut down by one threatening glare and a calm, but ice-cold clarification: Hyunjin was the one stretching holes, not the other way around. The tension in the air could’ve been sliced with a pizza cutter, but after that, no one dared spout that kind of bullshit again. Chan did tactfully note that there was nothing shameful about being a bottom, and everyone, including Hyunjin, nodded in agreement — though that didn’t stop the guys from continuing to discuss their alpha-male exploits in a crude, vulgar manner.
Back to Minho — he was one of Chan’s college acquaintances. For some inexplicable reason, Bang Chan liked this arrogant, eccentric guy who was into other guys. Chan even thought he was cute and would occasionally cuddle him, making Minho go limp in his bear hug and roll his eyes in disgust when he couldn’t dodge in time.
It seemed like everyone liked Minho, despite his obvious bipolar tendencies — one moment he’d be bouncing around, yelling louder than anyone, the next he’d be sprawled in an armchair, silently blinking at everyone and refusing to participate in any activities. Everyone, that is, except Hyunjin. Because Hyunjin was the one who got all his weird signs of attention — which made him shudder and seethe at the same time.
“Do you know how to make martinis?”
Hyunjin flinched near the open fridge, where he’d been looking for a snack. The warmth from someone’s chest heated his back, and a veiny arm reached through under his armpit to grab a jar of olives. Whipping his head around, Hyunjin came almost nose to nose with Chan’s new annoying friend. Again.
“No,” Hyunjin said, pressing his lips together, and shoved Minho away from the fridge before slamming the door shut.
Lee just stood there with the jar of olives in his hand, not taking his dark, creepy, huge eyes off the other guy. He always looked at Hyunjin like that — like a predator watching prey. When Hyunjin got especially uncomfortable, Minho, as if sensing it, would look away, but then kept coming back, making his pulse spike instantly and driving him into internal panic. Guts twisting and all.
This was already their third time meeting at Chan and Jeongin’s shared apartment, and Minho’s audacity had ramped up to the max.
“Then I can teach you. And we’ll drink to our third date.”
A nervous laugh tickled his lungs and burst out, making Hyunjin slap a hand over his mouth. Minho smirked smugly, and at that same second Hyunjin pulled himself together, because from the outside that might’ve looked like a stupid, flustered giggle with a hand over the mouth, not a skeptical snort at such absolute nonsense. Hyunjin didn’t giggle, didn’t get flustered, and didn’t blush when someone flirted with him. He was a confident top who made cute boys do all of the above — boys who’d later moan beneath him, whimpering and begging him to be careful, “you’re too big,” “don’t tear me apart.”
So Hyunjin forced his fucking giggles back down by sheer will and crossed his arms over his chest, straightening his toned shoulders. Trying to look bigger. Even though he towered over Minho and the others by a few centimeters, and worked hard on his body, Hyunjin remained lean and defined, not getting much wider. All his friends were stocky, and even the youngest, Jeongin, had biceps blown up to maybe the size of Hyunjin’s slender waist. So Hyunjin compensated for what he saw as a flaw by shaving his head into a short buzz cut. His black hair had grown back considerably now, sticking out in all directions, tempting him to use the clippers again. He hoped the haircut would distract from his whorish full lips — which, according to his roommate Felix, made people want to fuck his mouth in a dirty bathroom stall at a loud bar.
Judging by Minho’s gaze, currently aimed at those very tongue-moistened whorish lips, the short haircut didn't... cut it. Oh, for god's sake...
“I see you’re a joker. What a cute sense of humor you have. No wonder you became friends with Jisung,” Hyunjin shook his head and headed for the kitchen exit. Then he remembered he hadn’t grabbed any snack. Fucking stupid Minho.
Minho, who couldn’t care less how fucking stupid he was considered, dragged himself into the living room a couple minutes later, where the guys were loudly discussing a recent soccer match and how hopeless their country’s coach was. He set a few cold beers on the low table, then a plate of pancakes with strawberry jam, pushing it toward Hyunjin. It would’ve been dumb to refuse the food he’d kindly microwaved, so Hyunjin nodded in thanks.
Pssht — beer cans opening. Changbin started clicking the TV remote, finally settling on a concert broadcast. His body twitched like he wanted to dance to a girl group’s song, and Hyunjin, sitting next to him, laughed at that, immediately getting a fist to the forearm.
Finishing the pancakes, Hyunjin licked his fingers, half-heartedly annoyed at Minho for not bothering to bring napkins. There was jam stuck at the base of his thumb, and Hyunjin sucked it deeper, trying to get the sweetness with his tongue. Then he felt that familiar, persistent sensation of someone’s gaze on his face, and it wasn’t hard to guess who was burning a hole in him for the twentieth time that evening.
“Is it tasty, Hyunjin-ah?”
Hyunjin was sure this bastard practiced his devilish one-corner smirk in front of the mirror every day. He probably stopped at every reflective surface on the street, scaring random passersby with his sinister look. What a psycho.
The answer was forming in his head too long, giving Jisung, who’d been watching them, a chance to butt in:
“Why don’t you two… y’know… do it? You both like guys, after all.”
Minho shrugged and looked at Hyunjin with interest — Hyunjin, for whom this question was even more uncomfortable than the previous one. Hyunjin considered ignoring it, but for some reason, all his friends’ attention was now on him. Even Jeongin, usually squeamish about gay revelations, was casting curious glances their way.
Feeling like a cornered animal, Hyunjin answered rather sharply:
“Because Minho isn’t my type.”
“Are you blind?” Jisung gawked. “He’s even my type, and I don’t play for your team.”
“Exactly,” Minho said with an unreadable expression. “Explain your position.”
“Right in front of everyone?” Hyunjin wanted to ask, but it seemed he had no choice. Besides, the guys had heard worse. It was just the situation itself was weird: he and Minho hadn’t even discussed their messed-up dynamic in private, and now — a whole intervention.
“It’s obvious,” Hyunjin said, and when he didn’t see understanding in his friends’ eyes, he blinked and looked at them like they were idiots: “We’re both tops.”
“Oh, come on,” Changbin waved a hand, still chewing a slice of pizza. “You'll figure it out. Preferences can change too.”
Hyunjin didn’t just lose his ability to speak — his brain short-circuited. What the hell were they hinting at?! That sooner or later he’d cave under pressure and lie ass-up?!
Minho kept fueling his outrage with that perpetual smirk. It seemed like he’d put everyone up to this, trying to turn Hyunjin into his personal fuck-sleeve. Like hell!
“My preferences are already set. So if Minho wants someone to fuck, I can lend him the number of one of those boys who couldn’t handle what’s in my pants.”
Somewhere off to the side, Jeongin choked on his beer, and Chan started slapping his back. But this time, Hyunjin didn’t take his eyes off Minho, not about to back down in case the guy pulled something. However, the smirk didn’t leave that handsome, sharp-cheekboned face, and a black fire blazed in his eyes.
“You don’t know my size, so don’t jump to conclusions.”
Everyone around went quiet, turning their heads from Minho to Hyunjin like they were watching a tennis match. But what bothered Hyunjin most was the way those huge dark eyes studied him — eyes he wanted to hide from behind the couch or in another room. He despised himself for how much effort it took to maintain his own defense. Usually, one explanation of his preferences was enough to make people stop eyeing his ass, but he’d never met an arrogant bastard like Lee Minho. Not just dumbly stubborn, but radiating an unjustly dominant aura. Against his will, he wanted to curl up into a ball or turn everything into a joke, just to avoid a direct confrontation. He was scared to admit to himself that he was… scared.
But he had to hold his ground.
“I don’t care about other people’s sizes. I already explained my position.” Hyunjin leaned back on the couch and was about to cross his legs like a fairy, but caught himself and (man)spread them wide again.
Minho’s smirk flickered, but the predatory gleam in his eyes didn’t go anywhere.
Meanwhile, Bang Chan, sensing the excess tension in the air, cleared his throat and put an arm around the youngest sitting next to him:
“According to my exes, size doesn't matter! Right, Jeongin-ah?”
“Why me? I’m fine down there!” Jeongin protested, but was immediately tickled by the affectionate Chan. Laughing drunkenly, he fought off the older guy’s hands, and when those mischievous fingers went for his zipper area, he squealed like a dolphin.
The distraction worked, and the atmosphere instantly relaxed. Jisung, judging by his shocked expression, didn’t know whether to laugh or worry about Jeongin’s honor. Changbin, meanwhile, swiped a slice of pizza from him and smiled, pleased with his loot:
“We’re just joking, Hyunjin-ah. Don’t take it to heart.”
“You and Minho are so masculine that these idiots are taking the heat for you,” Han nodded toward Chan and Jeongin, now wrestling on the floor. Chan was reaching his lips toward the younger, who was grimacing and dodging while trying to crawl away.
“Gotta compensate for all that testosterone somehow,” Changbin agreed, but then it was his turn to dodge when Jisung reached for him, smacking his lips.
Seeing Minho laugh at this mock gay antics, Hyunjin relaxed too. He realized he was overreacting to these kinds of jokes. Suspiciously overreacting. And he didn’t want to seem like something he wasn’t. He was confident in himself. Nothing to be ashamed of.
During their subsequent lazy apartment hangouts, interacting with Minho became much easier. It was as if he’d figured something out for himself and stopped pushing his stupid advances. Their eyes still met across the room, but Minho’s smirk had turned into a friendly smile, and his eyes seemed kinder. They could even have normal conversations about common topics — weather, entertainment, university, side jobs.
Hyunjin learned, to his surprise, that Minho went to a dance club. Surprise — because Minho’s gait was sometimes kind of clumsy, lacking rhythm and grace. There was something cute about it, but Hyunjin stubbornly refused to admit that.
“You liked those pancakes last time, right? I made them myself,” Minho said, pointing at a container on the table.
They were alone in the kitchen again, but now Hyunjin wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. Well, mostly.
Checking the container curiously — thoroughly wrapped in foil — he noted the food was still warm, and was also amazed by such a generous gesture.
“You actually made them yourself? Can I take one?”
“You can eat them all. The others prefer pizza anyway,” Minho shrugged.
A blatant lie. The other guys would kill each other for homemade pancakes if they smelled them now. Hyunjin wanted to squint suspiciously at the sly bastard, but decided to let it slide. He had other priorities: the pancakes were getting cold.
When the container was empty, Minho couldn’t hide a satisfied smile.
***
Somehow, inexplicably, Hyunjin and Minho ended up going to the supermarket together. Jisung wanted to tag along at first, but the friends whispered among themselves and gave him the task of picking a movie everyone would like.
Minho was asked to help Hyunjin buy snacks, because Hyunjin always forgot what everyone needed. He’d get distracted by his favorite fruits and berries, as if his meager scholarship would allow even a quarter of what he wanted. He’d grab a package of huge red strawberries, then drool over blueberries and mangoes. Minho relentlessly teased him, bringing him lemons and cherry tomatoes, claiming they were also fruits and berries. Hyunjin would roll his eyes, but laugh, finding this stupid behavior amusing.
Unnoticed, Minho peeled a sticker off a kiwi and stuck it on Hyunjin’s tufted nape while Hyunjin was ogling sliced pineapple chunks with hearts in his eyes.
“What the fuck?.. Minho!” Hyunjin felt the sticker and threw it at the older guy, who was dying of laughter, ignoring the dirty looks from other shoppers.
They were indeed attracting a lot of attention, but not necessarily negative. The guys were handsome, well-built, stylishly dressed. Minho’s leather jacket emphasized the width of his back and shoulders, and his jeans clung tightly to his large, muscular thighs. Hyunjin wasn’t blind either — he noticed how damn good this bastard looked. Purely in an aesthetic sense. Even his profile was perfect, let alone his face in general.
Hyunjin snapped out of his contemplation of the bastard when someone called him quietly from behind. He turned and saw a skinny guy with a pretty face. His ex-not-quite-boyfriend. More precisely, the twink he’d slept with a few times over half a year ago, whose name he’d already forgotten.
“Didn’t think I’d run into you again, Hyunjin.”
Looks like he was the only one with memory issues.
“Oh, hey. Unexpected,” Hyunjin mumbled, frantically trying to match a name to the familiar face. Something with “Cho-” or “Do-”?
“How’ve you been?” The guy’s gaze slid over Hyunjin’s toned torso, hidden under a tight white tank top. Over it was a black hoodie, currently unzipped.
“Not bad. Studying, living, you know. You?” Hyunjin also glanced over What’s-His-Name, wondering if he’d always had light brown hair or dyed his hair since their last meeting. Also trying to decide if he should get his number again for a one-night stand.
“Same… Oh, who’s your… friend?” The nameless guy’s attention was immediately captured by Minho, who was throwing something into their shared cart.
“This is Lee Minho. And yeah, just a friend,” Hyunjin pressed his lips together. Minho, hearing his name, stood next to him, nodding at the stranger.
The brown haired guy immediately lit up, checking Minho out from head to toe with great interest, looking like all exams had been canceled, wars ended, and even a cure for aging had been found. Speaking shortly, fucking delighted. And hungry, like he hadn’t eaten in a week. He hadn’t even looked at Hyunjin like that.
“I’m Changhi. Choi Changhi. Nice to meet you.”
A familiar predatory expression appeared on Minho’s face. And judging by Changhi’s expression, the sweet little twink’s underwear was already wet in the front. They shook hands, and Changhi’s small palm lingered in Minho’s grip for a long time, without any objection.
“Yeah, that’s my ex,” Hyunjin blurted out, not knowing who’d pulled his tongue. But it worked — the guys finally broke the handshake.
“Well, I wouldn’t say we were that…” Changhi started, frowning slightly.
“It’s been half a year since we last saw each other,” Hyunjin cut him off. “Very interested in how you’ve been, Changhi-ya. You still like coffee?”
“Oh,” Changhi looked at him with wide eyes, sensing that Hyunjin’s interest in him had suddenly skyrocketed. The guy’s cheeks turned pink. “O-of course.”
“I like coffee too,” Minho chimed in, winking at Changhi and making him blush even harder.
At that moment, Hyunjin remembered how much Minho had pissed him off in the first three meetings. So he’d backed off from Hyunjin, but as soon as a potential fuckhole appeared on the horizon, the disgusting arrogant alpha showed up like the devil at the mention of a holy name. And Changhi predictably melted into a puddle, and it’d be a miracle if he didn’t drop to his knees right here and now. Hyunjin remembered how well he worked his throat.
“If we all like coffee, then…” Changhi began on an exhale, glancing between Hyunjin and Minho, “we could go together.”
Minho practically bared his teeth. Seemed like he could barely keep from rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. Hyunjin, meanwhile, forgot how to form words from letters and just stood there with a poker face. Better to die than show his confusion.
“I know just the place,” Minho purred obscenely. “Too bad it’s in Paris.”
Changhi wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand a thing. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his stupor to stare at the older guy, raising an eyebrow.
“In Paris?” Changhi asked, smiling dumbly.
“Yep. Where the Eiffel Tower is,” and winked.
It was unclear what illogical seduction methods Minho was using, but Changhi nearly choked on air, then lightly slapped him on the shoulder, letting his touch linger and slowly stroking down the other’s forearm.
Choi’s attention suddenly shifted to Hyunjin:
“Do you have my number? Will you share it with Minho?”
“Yeah, Hyunjin-ah. Will you share?” The older guy’s smirk was so unbearable that Hyunjin wanted to smash his phone against this perfect, handsome nose.
Instead, he reached into his pocket for his phone and ran a finger down his contact list, seriously doubting he’d find the right one. He usually didn’t save his flings’ numbers, since he avoided serious relationships.
“I don’t… uh…”
“Here, put it in yourself,” Minho didn’t waste time and handed his phone to the waiting boy. Changhi eagerly typed in his number, biting his lower lip in anticipation.
“What was that crazy cruising about? The Paris and Eiffel Tower thing, I mean,” Hyunjin asked when they were sitting on Chan’s couch in the living room. Chan snorted with laughter and immediately regretted it, missing a hit from Changbin in Mortal Kombat.
The others, except Chan, looked up with interest, also not getting it.
“Stand up,” Minho said, getting up from the couch himself. “Put your strawberries on the table, you’ll need your hands.”
Hyunjin really didn’t want to get up — he’d already settled into his soft, saggy spot, enjoying the berries Minho had kindly paid for, and lazily watching Changbin crush Bang Chan in a new round on the console. Jeongin wasn’t there today: the girl who kept friendzoning him had her sick dog put down, so he ran off to comfort her.
Curiosity won in the end, and Hyunjin obeyed, standing across from Minho, who made sure there were no obstacles between them.
“Han-ah, come here, you’ll be the third,” Lee beckoned the grumbling Jisung. “Stand between us.”
Jisung didn’t even have time to process what was happening before his head was pushed down toward Hyunjin’s zipper, while his ass practically pressed against Minho. Then Minho raised his hands as if to high-five Hyunjin with both, and told him to press his palms against them. They formed a kind of dome over the flabbergasted Jisung, who’d already collapsed to the floor just to avoid participating in this crap. Chan and Changbin had completely stopped their game and were laughing loudly.
“The Eiffel Tower,” Minho winked and offered a hand to Jisung, who didn’t know whether to be offended or not. He ended up punching the older guy in the shoulder — not hard, but solid.
“You promised Changhi a threesome without consulting me?” Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at Minho, hands on his hips.
“Who’s Changhi?” Jisung asked, but was ignored by everyone.
“You could’ve spoken up. I wasn’t covering your mouth,” Minho got comfortable on the couch and took a gulp of beer that belonged to Changbin, who was still gaming. “Besides, I didn’t promise anything. We just flirted and parted ways, so what?”
“But now he’s probably expecting that…”
“Who cares what he expects,” Lee rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to participate in anything. I’ll manage without you. Or if you want — I’ll delete his number from my phone. You’re the one who said he was your ex, so… I thought the hunt was open.”
Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all raised skeptical eyebrows simultaneously. An “ex” of Hyunjin’s was something out of a fantasy novel. They knew perfectly well that their friend operated on a “fuck and chuck” principle. But they didn’t interfere, not wanting to escalate the budding conflict.
And Hyunjin himself knew he should come clean, but he didn’t like the idea of not just a threesome, but even a simple duet between Minho and Changhi. That’s why he’d faked interest in his “ex,” hoping Minho would back off. Miscalculated, but where?
Noticing that Hyunjin was still boring a hole in him with an irritated glare, Minho added:
“For me, friendship comes first. He’s your ex. Whatever you say, goes.”
Fuck. Lee Minho always complicated his life — from the very first meeting. If he now forbade Minho from sleeping with Changhi, citing his own emotional discomfort, his friends — who knew him well — would start thinking all kinds of shit. What kind of shit — Hyunjin didn’t want to dig into his own messed-up head. So he was left with only one option: act indifferent and give Minho the green light. Truth was, Hyunjin didn’t know what to do. That’s why he hadn’t brought it up on the way from the supermarket to Chan’s apartment.
“I propose we get shitfaced!” The apartment’s owner suddenly appeared in the doorway. Hyunjin hadn’t even noticed him slipping into the kitchen and coming back with two bottles of hard whiskey. Jisung, who’d already started getting anxious over the unfolding drama, supported this brilliant idea with a whoop.
No one objected, and soon the guys were quickly getting drunk, considering the beer mix, and thinking became much easier. Actually, thinking wasn’t necessary at all, and Hyunjin took full advantage of that moment to drown his unidentified worries in his glass. He didn’t even care that Minho was still staring at him.
The conversations were hilarious. Changbin and Jisung put on a whole stand-up routine, making the others laugh until tears and stomach aches. But eventually even their energy ran out, and the chat turned into something lazy and heartfelt, until it got so boring that the guys started nodding off.
“Okay, time for confessions,” Jisung blurted out, making the others lift their heads. “Most extreme sex. Go!”
Changbin, who was pointed at, looked a little lost, though not from shame — that had long been dulled by alcohol. He frantically sifted through his drunk memory to both surprise the others and show himself off:
“Hmm… Probably a blowjob in a university bathroom stall.”
“Whoa. Who’d you suck off?” Jisung giggled.
“You, you stupid fuck,” Changbin grumbled, making Han put on a fake scared look like they’d been caught. “It was after class, when almost everyone had left. My girlfriend with benefits wanted to do it in the men’s room.”
“Bor-ing,” Jisung drawled, ignoring his friend’s offended look. “Screw you, pick the next victim.”
Changbin eagerly, with a gleam of joy in his eyes, pointed at Hyunjin, like he was picking the most expensive Christmas present.
“Ah, shit,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. “Lots of stuff. You have no idea what kind of freaks I’ve run into. Like, at a gay club I met this guy who seemed like an innocent little angel, but then asked me to stick it in him in an alley, from behind, without warning.”
“Outside?!” Jisung sat there in shock, mouth open.
“Yeah, but at night. No one saw us. Probably,” Hyunjin shrugged and lay back more comfortably, touching Chan, who was sitting next to him, with his legs up on the couch.
“Did he have a rape-in-an-alley kink?” Minho asked from a nearby armchair.
“Dunno,” Hyunjin thought. “He didn’t resist and was already prepped. He’d asked beforehand to just use him and leave him by the wall, without even saying goodbye.”
“Did you use a condom?” Lee continued asking.
“Of course.”
“Was the sex rough? What position? Did you like it?”
“Okay, too many questions,” Hyunjin decided to cut off the audacity. “Your turn.”
Minho sat in silence for a while, blinking the crazy gleam out of his black eyes. The others were about to hurry him up when he finally spoke:
“Well… My location was pretty ordinary — my apartment. But the position… you could call it extreme.”
“Just don’t demonstrate it on me again, please,” Han grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest like he was covering his nakedness.
“Nah, I don’t want to move anyway,” Minho sighed tiredly. “Anyway, I’m standing, and I sit my partner on my shoulders. Facing me, so I can take him in my mouth. At the same time, I’m prepping him with my fingers. Then I toss him off my shoulders — and slam him down onto my dick. And then I fuck him while holding him up.”
Now Hyunjin had a fuckton of questions. And not just him, judging by his friends’ shocked faces, so he decided to wait, not wanting to be the one to ask.
“I did the same thing with my ex!” Chan sat up to high-five Minho. “That’s hard, man. Respect. And a dick in the mouth isn’t a pussy. How did you not choke?”
“Luckily, he was small. Tiny, even. Cute and convenient.”
A dull thud was heard, and the guys saw it was just Jisung sliding off the couch onto the floor, intending to stand up. He was a bit wobbly from intoxication, but he still found his footing, grabbing the air in front of his face like he was trying to reenact the position Minho had described.
“How did your guy not fall off your shoulders? How did you not fall, for fuck’s sake?” Jisung demanded.
“I’m strong, unlike you,” Minho smirked and took another sip of beer.
Listening to the guys laugh and ask tactless questions about the exact size of the “tiny dick,” and how the fuck Minho managed not to break his own, Hyunjin shook his head, smiling and picturing the scene in his mind. Minho definitely couldn’t hold him on his shoulders, no matter how broad and strong they were.
Wait, hold on. What the fuck did he just think?
The smile abruptly vanished from his face. Hyunjin cautiously looked toward Lee, as if to make sure he hadn’t read his thoughts, and immediately met a playful gaze. A fine tremor went through his body, despite the elevated blood alcohol content.
“He held onto a bar above his head to balance,” Minho explained, suddenly turning to Jisung. “But try not to repeat this trick at home. I only did it once myself. Real risk of breaking your neck.”
“As if I could,” Han grumbled enviously. “You need good lower body support. I’ll never bulk up thighs as massive as yours. There’s more meat there than in my whole body.”
Oh yeah, Hyunjin had noticed that fact long ago. Minho’s lovers probably drooled over his thighs. Literally. Hyunjin sometimes wished his one-night stands had more meat on them, so he could sink his teeth in and lick the bites. Though he only had himself to blame for picking small, skinny guys he could easily dominate.
Lost in thought, Hyunjin didn’t notice when his crotch area became uncomfortable. Not that he was fully hard, but the discomfort made him want to shove a hand down his pants to adjust his slightly swollen dick. Sometimes his size caused more problems than opportunities.
“Alright, I’m done talking. Chan’s next,” Minho slumped in his chair, switching to “sleep mode.” In other words, listening but not engaging.
“I suggest we skip that pervert,” Jisung made a face. “I accidentally walked in on him once, and I’m still traumatized.”
“We never watched the movie,” Changbin chimed in, reaching for the remote.
Bang Chan looked like he wanted to be offended, but just sighed, accepting his fate.
Hyunjin decided to take advantage of the break and run to the bathroom to pee and relieve the pressure on his zipper. Not too drunk, but just in case, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to refresh his worthless brain. The brain that was failing him. Feeding him images of the annoying, downright unbearable Minho. Who’d also inserted himself between Hyunjin and Changhi. And now Hyunjin was in a stupid position that had nothing to do with the Eiffel Tower.
Come to think of it, Changhi didn’t interest him much — they’d already slept together, nothing new or exciting. But for some reason, he didn’t want Minho to take the baton. And Changhi himself, who’d so blatantly stroked Minho’s arm, seemed… disgusting at that moment. Hyunjin’s chest flared up at the memory, his teeth clenching. He forced himself to calm down — the evening wasn’t over yet.
Leaving the bathroom, he ran into the very person who’d been stirring his thoughts. Hyunjin expected to be asked about Changhi or hit with some other unfunny joke, but Minho just lazily glanced at him, yawned, and went to do his own business.
The rest of the evening was quiet and dark — watching a not-very-scary horror movie and munching popcorn. Minho didn’t look away from the screen, still sprawled in his chair. And he didn’t look at Hyunjin.
Unusual.
Annoying.
Hyunjin tried to focus on the movie, but he was gnawed by the feeling that his conversation with Minho wasn’t finished, and now Hyunjin looked like a dog in the manger — at best. Fucking Lee Minho.
The thought bothered him so much that he didn’t notice he’d been staring at the source of his emotional torment the whole time, with the screen’s reflections flickering in his eyes. Fortunately, the older guy didn’t notice. And he also didn’t notice Hyunjin’s internal struggle, in which he was trying with every cell of his mind to catch the word “jealousy” and strangle it. He had no idea where the word was coming from, since they’d already established he didn’t care about Changhi.
Bang Chan stood up heavily, swaying slightly, and headed toward the bathroom. The spot next to Hyunjin on the couch opened up, but only for a minute. It was immediately taken by Minho, who brazenly threw an arm over the back of the couch and fixed Hyunjin with an intense stare. Somewhere at the other end, Jisung was snoring, and Changbin lay on the carpet with his back to them.
“You’re staring so hard, even I’m getting shy. Do you want me that badly?”
The whisper near his ear sent a shiver and goosebumps down his neck. Hyunjin was afraid to turn around, his insides twisting with fear and arousal. Oh fuck, he needed to strangle another word. Thinking about it, he tilted his head away from Minho and immediately felt hot breath on his exposed neck. Meanwhile, Minho reached for Hyunjin’s hand lying on his thigh and covered it with his own palm. Squeezed slightly, stroked. Ringed his wrist and went upward, as if checking at what point his fingers would no longer close. Then down, reaching the knuckles, and started playing with each finger.
Hot. The body wouldn’t obey Hyunjin.
Even when teeth slowly closed on his neck...
“Are you asleep? You didn’t drink that much. Hey, Hyunjin-ah.”
Hyunjin opened his eyes and turned sharply toward the source of the voice, which turned out to be Chan again, sitting next to him. He cleared his throat and sat up, frowning. His body felt too heavy and didn’t want to move.
“The others are heading home, but you can crash here if you’re too tired,” Chan gave him a kind smile.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll go too.”
Hyunjin quickly scanned the room, trying to do it casually, but didn’t see Minho. Jisung was also out of sight, though judging by Changbin’s loud voice, the guys were already putting on their shoes, probably in the hallway.
“Then hurry up and share a cab with them.”
“No, no,” Hyunjin protested. “I’ll walk, get some fresh air. I live close by.”
Stepping outside, he deliberately waited until the car with his friends had driven off, and only then, pulling his hood up, headed toward his place.
He really didn’t want to run into Minho right now.