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Mingi had always imagined coming back to university would feel like slipping into something familiar again. Same campus paths, same practice rooms that still smelled faintly of dust, coffee, and someone else’s ambition.
But it didn’t feel the same anymore.
Not after this summer. Not after the return to his village.
Not after Yunho.
He adjusted the strap of his bag as he crossed the courtyard of the music building, headphones in but nothing playing. His phone buzzed again in his pocket with another message from Yunho. Mingi didn’t even need to look to know it would be something simple. Something mindful.
And ironically, that made Mingi’s heart flustered. He couldn’t bear it when his exes were doing that. It made him feel pressured. Like we were expecting something from him.
But with Yunho, it eased something in his chest.
Because his priest was still reaching for him despite the distance. Meaning he had some importance in his head and maybe his heart.
Did you sleep well enough tonight?
What did you eat this morning?
Send me a voice note when you can.
Mingi smiled at his screen. There was something so old-fashioned in the way Yunho wrote his texts. Steady in a way Mingi wasn’t used to yet.
They weren’t a couple. They had agreed on that without really saying it out loud before Mingi left. Not yet. Just two adults, trying to see if something between them could exist outside the quiet boundaries of religion and the borrowed time they’d had there. Yunho had stayed behind. Priest duties, the rhythm of the church, the kind of structure that made sense when everything else didn’t. Mingi had returned to his degree in music composition, to deadlines and rehearsals and people who spoke too fast and touched too little.
However, distance, it turned out, was not neutral.
Mingi was discovering that he didn’t do well with it. After spending an entire summer glued to Yunho's heels, as a bonus to a steamy night and a morning where his first breakfast was the priest… Yeah, the sudden distance was odd.
Don’t get him wrong. Mingi had a few relationships before Yunho, but none of them had required this kind of patience. This kind of waiting. Of longing. He texted too much. Called too often. Filled silence and absence of warmth like it was something dangerous.
Yunho, on the other hand, seemed to treat distance like a room he needed to clean before inviting anyone in.
Sometimes he replied quickly. Sometimes he didn’t. But when he did, his words always felt intentional, like they had been chosen carefully before being sent.
It should have made Mingi feel secure. Most days, it almost did.
Almost.
***
It had already been almost three months since he returned to town that night. And Mingi stopped trying to pretend he wasn’t lonely.
San had dragged him out after rehearsal, and Wooyoung had followed like it was a sacred duty to make sure Mingi didn’t spend his entire evening “brooding like a tragic composer,” as he put it. There was music, laughter too loud, strangers leaning too close in dim bars that all started to look the same after midnight.
And somehow, despite being surrounded the entire time, Mingi ended up third-wheeling his own friends.
San and Wooyoung had disappeared into their own orbit halfway through the night. Laughing, teasing, hands brushing like it was nothing. Mingi had sat there with a drink he barely touched, smiling when he was supposed to, checking his phone more than he wanted to admit.
No reply from Yunho.
Not unusual. Still, it sat in him differently tonight.
***
By the time he stumbled back into his apartment, it was almost 4am. The city outside was quieter than his thoughts. His phone was full of notifications he hadn’t bothered to open. Messages from classmates, group chats, San asking if he got home safe.
And Yunho’s name, sitting there among them.
Mingi stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering. He ended up ignoring every text from him that night. Not intentionally at first. Then later… Maybe a little. Or too preoccupied on getting wasted because he couldn’t bear it anymore.
He exhaled, dragged a hand through his hair, and pressed call.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Mingi was already preparing himself for voicemail, for the soft disappointment of silence, when—
“Mingi?” Yunho’s voice, rough with sleep but unmistakably present, cut through everything.
Mingi froze.
“...You’re awake,” he said, immediately regretting how small it sounded.
A pause. Then, quieter, “Are you okay?”
Something in his chest tightened at the way Yunho said this, so soft and careful it hurted.
“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” Mingi admitted.
There was a soft rustling on the other end. Fabric, movement, the shift of someone sitting up properly.
“You called,” Yunho replied simply. No accusation. Just a fact.
Mingi leaned back against his kitchen counter, suddenly aware of how empty his apartment felt after a night of too much noise. “Yeah. I did.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“You were out late?” Yunho asked.
“I was with my friend San and Wooyoung,” Mingi answered. “Went out to get wasted but I ended up third wheeling. They’re… very annoying together.”
That earned him something close to a quiet breath of amusement. Not quite a laugh, but warm enough that Mingi felt it anyway.
“You drank a lot?” Yunho asked. “Are you okay?”
Mingi hesitated. He could say yes. He usually did. But something about the hour, about the way his friends’ laughter still echoed faintly in his ears, about the unread messages he had ignored all night…
“I missed you,” he said instead.
Silence. Not empty. Just full.
When Yunho finally spoke again, his voice was softer. More awake now, or maybe just more honest.
“You did?”
Mingi swallowed. “Sorry. I know it’s late.”
“It’s fine,” Yunho said, but not dismissively. “I was… still up. Sort of.”
That told Mingi more than it should have.
He closed his eyes briefly. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” Uunho answered after a moment. “I was thinking.”
Mingi almost smiled at that. Of course he was.
Surely about faith, about duties, about the structure of his life in the village.
Mingi shifted his weight, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. “About what?”
A pause.
Then Yunho, quieter than before: “About you.”
Something in Mingi’s chest loosened and tightened at the same time.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now.
“Yeah,” Yunho said.
Mingi let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
It wasn’t dramatic. Yunho didn’t say it like a confession pulled out under pressure, or like something heavy he regretted. It was just… simple. Direct. As if it had been sitting there the whole time, waiting for Mingi to ask.
“For how long?” he asked quietly.
There was a faint sound on Yunho’s end. Something like him shifting again, maybe leaning back against his bed frame.
“A while,” Yunho said softly, “You’re always in the corner of my mind, Mingi. But lately, since you stopped replying the way you used to, you’ve been haunting my thoughts.”
That landed more precisely than Mingi expected.
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the counter. “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose.”
“I know,” Yunho said, immediate and certain. No hesitation. “You’re not like that.”
Mingi almost laughed at that, but it came out more like a breath. “You say that like you’re sure.”
“I am,” Yunho replied.
That confidence, again. It didn’t push. It wasn't demanding. It just… existed. And somehow it made Mingi feel seen in a way that was harder to shake off than anything else.
“I didn’t know what to do with it,” Mingi said after a moment. His voice lowered, almost embarrassed by its own honesty. “Being here again. Going back to classes. Everyone just… moved so fast. And you’re—”
He stopped himself.
Yunho didn’t fill the silence for him. He waited.
Mingi swallowed. “You’re always in the corner of my mind too. Since the day I first saw you to be honest… But everything feels hollow now.”
There was a quiet shift on the other end of the line, like Yunho had gone very still. When he spoke again, it was slower.
“Hollow,” he repeated, as if testing the word in his mouth. “Because of me?”
Mingi let out a short, uncertain breath. “Not because of you. Not like that.”
A pause.
“It’s just…” He stared at the faint reflection of himself in the dark window above the sink. “Everything here feels too loud and too far away at the same time. Like I’m still stuck in the past, with you at the village. But then I’m not there and you’re not here, and it’s like I don’t know where to put any of it.”
Silence stretched again, but this one didn’t feel empty either. It felt held.
Yunho finally said, “Come closer to the phone.”
Mingi blinked. “What?”
“Just… hold it closer,” Yunho repeated gently.
Confused, Mingi did as told, pressing the phone tighter to his ear, like that would somehow make him easier to understand.
And then Yunho spoke again, softer still.
“Breathe with me.”
It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even really a request. It was just the way he said it, like something natural, like something Mingi had forgotten how to do properly.
Mingi almost scoffed out of instinct. Then didn’t.
He inhaled.
Yunho followed on the other end, slow and steady.
Exhale.
Again.
Mingi didn’t realize how tense his shoulders were until they started to drop.
“I didn’t think you’d be the type to do phone therapy,” Mingi muttered weakly.
A faint sound of amusement. “I’m not.”
“Then what is this?”
A pause. Longer this time, but not hesitant. Thoughtful.
“This is me not wanting you to feel alone while you’re drunk and standing in your kitchen at four in the morning,” Yunho said simply.
That landed harder than anything poetic could have.
Mingi swallowed, throat tight for reasons he didn’t fully want to name. “I’m not that drunk.”
“Mhm.”
“I swear, I was tipsy when I got off the bar but I’m pretty much sober now.”
A quiet exhale on the other end. “That sounds like the beginning of a confession.”
“Maybe it is.” Mingi huffed a small laugh despite himself, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh Father, forgive me for I have sinned.”
Yunho scoffed at the end of the line. Then, silence again, but softer now. Less like distance. More like waiting.
Then Mingi said it, before he could overthink it into something safer.
“I miss you.”
No cushioning this time. No half-joke. No deflection.
Just the truth, laid out plainly in the space between them.
Yunho didn’t respond immediately.
And for a moment, Mingi worried he’d said too much too directly, crossed some invisible line they hadn’t defined properly yet.
Then Yunho spoke, and his voice was quieter than before.
“I miss you too.”
Something in Mingi’s chest shifted sharply, like it had been bracing for impact and found nothing to fight instead.
He sank slowly onto the floor beside the counter without really noticing when his legs gave out. “It’s stupid,” he admitted. “We’re not even—”
“Don’t,” Yunho cut in gently.
Not sharp. Just firm enough to stop him from diminishing it.
Mingi went quiet.
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Yunho continued. “I think it’s… real. And real things don’t become less real just because they’re inconvenient.”
Mingi closed his eyes. The apartment suddenly felt less like an empty space and more like a place he had been waiting in.
“I keep thinking about this summer,” he admitted after a moment. His voice had softened without him meaning to. “About your place. The mornings before I had to leave. How everything felt slower there.”
There was a pause on Yunho’s end, and when he spoke, something had changed in his tone. Less priestly distance. More person.
“I think about it too,” he said. “More than I should.”
That quiet admission did something dangerous to Mingi’s composure.
He pressed his forehead briefly against his knee. “Do you ever regret it?”
“No,” Yunho said immediately.
No hesitation.
Then, softer, “Do you?”
“How could I.”
It wasn’t a question so much as an admission dressed like one.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city outside hummed faintly through the window. Distant traffic, the occasional siren, the soft, indifferent life of everything continuing.
And then Yunho spoke, voice lower now.
“Are you still standing in your kitchen?”
Mingi blinked, glancing around as if remembering where he was. “Yeah.”
“Go sit somewhere more comfortable,” Yunho said.
“I am comfortable,” Mingi protested weakly.
“No, you’re not,” Yunho replied, like it was simply obvious.
That made Mingi pause, then exhale a small laugh. He pushed himself up slowly, dragging himself and the phone toward his couch. He collapsed into it sideways, curling slightly, still holding the call close.
“Happy?” he muttered.
“Better,” Yunho said.
Mingi stared at the ceiling. “You’re bossy for someone who’s supposed to be spiritually neutral.”
A soft hum of amusement. “I never claimed to be neutral with you.”
That sentence landed differently. Softer. Heavier. Honest in a way that didn’t feel rehearsed.
Mingi’s grip on the phone tightened slightly. “Yunho…”
“I’m here,” Yunho said immediately, as if he could hear the shift in his tone.
Mingi swallowed. The remaining alcohol in his system blurred a little the edges of his restraint, but it wasn’t just that. It was the quiet, steady presence on the other side of the line. The way Yunho didn’t pull away when things got real. Even when everything Mingi did was pushing away the lines drawn by religion.
Lines Yunho was supposed to respect. He stayed.
Mingi let out a slow breath, like he was deciding whether or not to say something he could never take back.
“I wish you were here,” he admitted finally, voice rough around the edges.
“You do?”
Mingi closed his eyes. “I mean it,” he admitted quietly, “Like… actually here. Next to me.”
Another pause, but this one felt different. Less distance in it.
“What would you do if I was?” Yunho asked.
Mingi let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, turning onto his side on the couch, curling into himself as if it could hide the honesty slipping out of him.
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“I asked anyway,” Yunho said.
Mingi hesitated. His thumb traced slow circles against the edge of his phone.
“I’d…” He stopped, swallowing. “I’d probably nuzzle into you like an idiot and not let go.”
Yunho let him continue and Mingi rushed on before he could lose his nerve. “And you'd be a little embarrassed, like you always do whenever I get too close, but you’d hold me anyway. You always do that. And if I allow my brain to get a little freaky, you would have your hands on me. Maybe my waist, pushing under the hem of the black tank top I’m wearing actually, your palms pressed against my sides.”
That made Mingi go quiet.
For a second, he could almost imagine it too clearly: Yunho beside him, steady and real, not just a voice. The weight of his hands against him, holding him there, pressed together. How his leg would fit between his, applying a soft, devastating pressure on his crotch until Mingi would move his hips to get more and Yunho would guide them.
Mingi pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, as if that could steady him.
“Shit…” He muttered under his breath, chest heaving, “I managed to get myself horny all by myself with something as simple as that. I act like a fucking horny teenager, it’s embarassing.”
There was a quiet huff. Almost like the sound of someone biting their lip to suppress something to spill too freely. Yunho was quiet for a long moment and Mingi almost thought he’d offended him with his sudden, embarrassing confession.
But then Yunho exhaled. Softly. Carefully.
And when he spoke again, his voice had dropped lower. Thicker than before. Not teasing or chastising like Mingi half-expected from someone who wore his title so naturally, but something else entirely.
Something warm and dark and aware.
“I can picture it,” Yunho said quietly. “You in that black tank top… Me laying right there beside you.”
Mingi’s breath hitched audibly.
“My hands on your waist,” Yunho continued slowly, each word deliberate as if choosing them one by one while imagining it too vividly to stop himself now either , “The prickle of your skin warm under my palms…”
A shiver ran down Mingi's spine despite the mild room temperature because holy hell: Yunho never talked like this. But it was the sexiest thing Mingi ever heard.
It felt forbidden in an entirely different way and yet neither of them pulled back from saying more out loud now…
“I would kiss you first,” Yunho added softly, and goddamn it all, he sounded sincere about wanting to do precisely that right now if only geography allowed for such things—
Mingi swallowed hard against nothing but air because suddenly everything inside him felt too tight: throat closed up, chest burning, fingers curling into couch fabric beneath them unconsciously gripping for stability...
“What else would you do if you were here with me?” He asked after a few times, voice shaking a little.
Yunho’s breath deepened on the other end. Slow, measured, like he was savoring each thought before speaking it into existence.
“I’d kiss you,” Yunho said again. Not a repetition. A reaffirmation. Like the first one hadn’t been enough to carry all of it.
“I’d press my lips to yours and not pull away for a long time. Letting our tongues meet in languid slides.”
Mingi’s chest tightened impossibly further.
“Your mouth is… Always perfect when I kiss you. Your lips are plum and soft, you taste delicious,” Yunho murmured, voice low with something tender and hungry at once, an unusual combination from him. And Mingi remembered how true that was. Their summer kisses had been the best he ever shared in his life.
“I miss your mouth, Mingi-yah.”
That admission punched through Mingi like physical force right between his ribs where his heart lived beating too fast now anyway because oh—
Oh.
This wasn't just flirting over the phone anymore. Not entirely. This felt dangerously close to confession dressed as fantasy but rooted in real wanting...
Mingi bit down on his lower lip hard enough almost hurting himself if only so he wouldn't say something stupidly emotional out loud like ‘I love kissing you’ which would ruin everything by making this too serious. Maybe?
But Yunho didn't stop there either:
“If I were beside you right now…” He continued slowly and god help him the priest sounded ruined. “I'd slide one hand up under your shirt... feel every inch of skin while my other hand held onto your jaw... Keeping our mouths connected...”
A quiet groan escaped Mingi before he could stop it, half-surprise half-pleasure at hearing such detailed intimacy from someone usually so restrained verbally especially about these things...
He shifted again on couch cushions unconsciously trying to find comfort even though nothing eased tension coiling tighter inside him by second. Finding none, he decided to go raw and slid his free hand across his chest, his abs before it reached for his crotch where he felt increasingly constricted in his trousers.
Mingi’s fingers hovered over the growing heat in his pants, pulse hammering under his skin. He didn’t touch himself, not yet, but the want was a live wire, sparking through every nerve.
Yunho kept talking. Softly, steadily, and it was worse than if he’d been teasing. This sounded like longing laid bare.
“I’d kiss down your jaw,” he continued, voice dropping even lower now as if leaning into intimacy despite being miles apart physically speaking… “Then to your neck… I know how you shiver when my lips are there.”
A full-body tremor ran through Mingi at that memory. How Yunho had traced kisses along his throat during lazy summer mornings when they were tangled in bedsheets and sunlight spilled across their bodies.
“I’d roll you onto your back… Pin you gently into the cushions… and kiss down your chest.”
He bit his lip again hard as an involuntary moan threatened escape at just imagining Yunho's lips there, the press of them warm against his hard nipples. His hips twitched involuntarily beneath his hand still resting there awkwardly over jeans’ straining zipper line…
This wasn't fair anymore because how was anyone supposed to stay composed hearing their current crush describe undressing them piece by piece while both were miles apart?
“Fuck,” he whispered into phone before realizing he said it out loud probably too loudly—
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then another soft exhale, this one slower… deliberate… like Yunho had just realized exactly where Mingi’s mind and hands had gone.
And then, quietly but with unmistakable intent:
“Are you touching yourself?”
Mingi froze. Not because he felt guilty (he didn’t), but because hearing those words, calm and even though they carried such weight, sent a jolt straight through him that made his stomach flip violently.
His throat went dry as sandpaper for half a second before he managed to croak out, “I wasn't... I mean—I am now.”
Another pause. Longer this time. Charged with something thick and electric despite no physical contact at all between them right now...
Then Yunho spoke again, lower than ever before and it sounded like sin wrapped in velvet:
“What are you doing?”
Mingi’s breath came faster now, shallow and uneven. The question hung in the air. Simple, direct, devastating.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers moved.
Slowly at first, tentative, he pressed his palm flat against the bulge in his jeans. A shaky inhale escaped him as heat pulsed under the fabric. He shifted slightly on the couch to get more comfortable or maybe just to give himself space for this quiet rebellion of touching himself while talking to a priest.
“I…” his voice came out rougher than intended when he talked again. “I haven’t really done anything yet. Just palming myself through my jeans.”
Yunho exhaled softly on the other end, not disappointed or judging, if anything there might've been curiosity laced with something darker beneath a calm exterior...
Then—
"Can I tell you what to do?"
The words sent heat rushing down Mingi's spine faster than any alcohol ever could have tonight, which frankly shouldn't even be possible after taking shots after shots of vodka earlier that evening.
It should've sounded absurd coming from someone who wore collars every Sunday morning while preaching sermons about self-control…
But right now?
It thrilled Mingi right now with how it sounded sinful as hell. And God help him if that didn’t make him want to say yes immediately.
“Please.” He breathed.
The single plea hung in the silence between them, fragile and wanting.
Yunho didn’t rush. He let the moment stretch, savoring Mingi’s breathy anticipation on the other end of the line. Then his voice came again. Commanding without being harsh.
“Unbutton your jeans.”
Mingi swallowed hard and obeyed immediately, fingers fumbling slightly as he worked the button free on his dark denim pants before sliding down the zipper next. The sound was loud in the silent apartment despite how quietly it happened, fabric parting like an invitation.
He didn’t remove them yet though… just let them hang open loosely around his hips while waiting for Yunho’s next instruction because this felt too intimate to rush through on his own now. Not when they were doing this together over phone calls at 4am...
A pause stretched between them again, anticipatory, until Yunho spoke once more:
“Push your hand inside, under your briefs.”
Simple words that sent heat pooling low in Mingi's stomach instantly because wow—they were really doing this weren't they? Talking to each other through touching themselves across distance?
He chuckled a little though, "I'm not wearing any underwear,” he said while pushing his hand inside, his voice ending into a soft gasp at the contact of his palm against his sensitive skin.
Yunho’s breath hitched audibly on the other end of the line, audibly, and that alone made Mingi’s stomach flip. The priest sounded flustered and Mingi was delighted to imagine his flushed face, lips parted and eyes wide, dark and glassy just like the first time they slept together.
For a second, there was no sound except their shared breathing over the line. Then Yunho exhaled, slow and controlled like he was steadying himself.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, quiet but unmistakably affected.
Mingi bit his lip hard to suppress a smirk at hearing Yunho, of all people, the composed priest with perfect posture and measured speech, cursing like that because of him. It sent a thrill through him hotter than anything else tonight.
Then Yunho recovered quickly. His voice dropped even lower when he spoke again, "Your hand is warm against you?"
Mingi exhaled shakily as he confirmed silently by just moving his palm slowly up and down over himself, testing how much friction felt good right now...
“Yeah…” He admitted quietly into the phone while doing so. “Warm.”
“How does it feel?”
Genuinely curious about Mingi's experience right then as if studying every detail mattered to him deeply for reasons beyond mere arousal...
Mingi closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation. The warmth of his palm, the softness of his skin there, and how every slow drag sent little sparks through him.
“It feels… good,” he admitted softly. “Not too much yet but… nice.”
His voice was hushed with something between shyness and a quiet kind of awe that this was happening at all, Yunho guiding him like this while they were apart.
He continued moving lazily for now just enjoying it before building up to anything more intense because right now? This gentle exploration under Yunho's quiet attention felt oddly intimate in its own way.
Then he added after a second, "I can feel you listening."
A pause. A breath on Yunho’s end that almost sounded amused or touched by Mingi noticing that about him.
“I am,” Yunho confirmed simply, no teasing tone here, just pure focus directed entirely onto Mingi’s voice and whatever sounds might slip out next from across distance...
And then came another instruction, "Wrap your fingers around yourself properly."
“Can I push my pants away to be more comfortable?”
“Yes,” Yunho said, “Yes, you can.”
“Thank you.”
Mingi didn’t wait. He laid his phone next to his head before grabbing the hem of his pants with both hands and pushing it down his thighs, raising his hips a little to ease the slide.
Once done, he wrapped a hand around himself immediately and a quiet gasp escaped him. Unfiltered, surprised at the intensity of sensation after just a few light touches.
Yunho heard it.
And something in Mingi’s chest fluttered wildly because that tiny sound had clearly reached Yunho perfectly through the line.
He curled his fingers experimentally, looser first, then tighter and bit down on his lower lip when pleasure sparked brighter this time.
“Okay,” he murmured mostly to himself but loud enough for Yunho to catch, probably… “I did what you told me.”
He heard Yunho swallow hard at the other side of the line, “Good, you’re doing so good Mingi, start moving now.”
The praise hit Mingi like a physical touch, warm and electric. Good. He hadn't realized how much he craved hearing Yunho say that—how it unraveled something tight in his chest.
“Move from base to tip first, to test the slide,” Yunho added, “Tease below the tip too, I know you like it.”
Mingi's breath caught as Yunho's voice, so precise, so knowing, guided him through the first strokes.
He obeyed instantly, curling his fingers at the base and sliding upward in a slow drag, palm smooth over heated skin. The friction was a little rough from the lack of lube but good enough to make his hips twitch on their own.
When he reached the tip he circled it lightly with his thumb like Yunho suggested, smearing the few drops of precum accumulating there and teasing below it and—
Oh God.
A soft moan slipped out before he could stop it. High-pitched and breathy because that spot was always sensitive for him.
Yunho didn’t comment on the sound this time but Mingi swore he heard a sharp inhale from him anyway across the line... as if even hearing Mingi’s pleasure affected him physically too right now...
Then came another instruction, "Now do full strokes slowly. If you're already leaking a little, use the precum to ease the slide."
Mingi exhaled shakily but followed without hesitation. Hand moving down again in one fluid motion before repeating upward once more at an easy pace meant to build sensation gradually rather than rush toward anything intense yet…
It felt incredible already though, each pass sent waves of warmth spreading through his lower belly while tension coiled tighter beneath surface awareness...
And all while listening intently for whatever else might come next from Yunho’s voice—
Yunho's voice remained steady, low and velvet-soft, but Mingi could detect the slight hitch in his breathing now.
"Good," the priest murmured when Mingi’s rhythm settled into a slow, even glide. "Keep going like that… just like that."
Each stroke felt better than the last, the precum helping to smooth things out more as promised by Yunho's suggestion and soon Mingi found himself sinking deeper into pleasure with every movement of his hand.
He didn’t rush it either because this wasn't about finishing fast. It was about savoring each second under Yunho’s careful guidance while they talked through something so intimate yet distant at once...
His other hand lifted unconsciously to brush against his abs where tension had pooled there from all the arousal coiling tighter inside him...
And then he realized—
Yunho hadn't said anything about touching himself yet.
Was he doing anything? Listening quietly while describing things for Mingi? Or...?
Before curiosity could fully form though, another instruction came:
"Speed up slightly… but keep your grip loose enough not to overstimulate. We don’t want you to come too fast."
Mingi nodded even though Yunho couldn’t see it, increasing the pace just a fraction. His grip loosened slightly as instructed, fingers sliding with less pressure but more fluid motion now.
The change was subtle but effective, still pleasurable without tipping into overstimulation too soon. He exhaled through his nose, sinking deeper into the couch cushions as warmth spread through him.
His abs flexed under his other hand’s absent touch and he distractedly pressed down on them briefly like grounding himself in something while doing this…
He wondered again if Yunho was touching himself too or not yet. Maybe waiting? Maybe focusing entirely on guiding Mingi first?
But before asking anything stupid (like "Are you hard right now?"), another command came, "Use your thumb to swirl around the head every few strokes… gently."
Mingi bit his lip in that specific direction because yeah that always felt incredible when done right… So he obeyed. Slowing for half a second each time before brushing damp circles over sensitive skin with careful thumb movements…
“Mmph—”
The soft sound escaped Mingi’s lips again, higher this time. Almost a whimper.
Something shifted in the air between them. The priest's breath turned uneven for a split second before he steadied himself again, but Mingi caught that tiny crack in his composure and it sent a thrill through him.
He likes hearing me like this.
That thought flashed hotly behind his eyes as pleasure pulsed with each swirl of his thumb over the flushed head. The gentle friction was perfect, not too much, not too little, just enough to make the heat pool low in his stomach while keeping him right on edge without pushing toward climax yet…
Then Yunho spoke again after another brief pause, "Keep doing that… and now add slight twists at the base when you pull up."
Mingi blinked once at how specific these instructions were getting... Has Yunho done research? Did he memorize everything that felt best to him specifically?
Either way he didn’t question it. Just adjusted accordingly. Adding those small twisting motions whenever rising upward from base to tip...
The added twist sent a shiver up Mingi's spine, the slight variation in friction making each stroke feel brand new even though it was basically the same motion.
He could've sworn his body arched subtly into it, chasing that sensation without him consciously deciding to do so.
“Shit…” He cursed under his breath, “F-feels good…”
“Good boy,” Yunho murmured, and the words curled around Mingi’s heart before sinking lower, making his stomach flip violently.
Good boy. Good boy. Good boy—
Mingi had never been called that during anything remotely sexual. Not ever. And hearing Yunho, of all people say that to him while guiding him through this?
It short-circuited something inside his brain.
His cheeks burned even as he kept moving his hand just as instructed. Slow swirls with thumb on head followed by those tiny base twists on every upward stroke…
But now there was an extra layer of warmth spreading through him. Not just from arousal but from how cared for he felt right now…
“Is it good enough for you?” Yunho asked, “Do you want to keep doing that or do you want to do something with your back too?”
Mingi's breath hitched at the question, his mind spinning with options.
He could keep doing this. This slow, teasing rhythm that was building pleasure so perfectly. But there was something so cute and appealing about Yunho asking if he wanted to play with his ass that made him curious.
"Both," he blurted out before he could overthink it. "I want to do both."
Yunho chuckled softly at Mingi's eager response. The sound warm and fond in his throat, like he was genuinely pleased by his enthusiasm.
"Both? Alright… Do you have lube?”
Mingi shook his head, “I’m too lazy and comfortable to go get it, I’ll use my spit.”
“You sure?” Yunho’s hesitation could be heard through the speaker and it genuinely made Mingi laugh.
“Do I have to remind you we only used yours during our first time?”
"Alright…” Yunho hummed softly, almost a little embarrassed, "Then I want you to keep stroking just as you are, thumb swirling the head, twisting at the base on every upstroke. But now with your free hand…"
A beat of silence stretched between them while Mingi waited breathlessly.
"...Reach back and press a finger against yourself there."
Mingi’s face burned hotter instantly.
He swallowed hard before shifting slightly on couch cushions to give himself better access… He wettened his fingers quickly before slowly reaching behind with one hand still busy stroking above... Fingers dipping lower until they brushed his hole.
Mingi's breath hitched as his fingertip made contact, the touch feather-light but electrifying. His body tensed for a split second, not from discomfort, but from sheer unfamiliarity with this kind of focus on that area. He was not the type to touch himself there to feel good, not if it wasn’t for someone, like he did with Yunho.
Yunho who hadn't instructed him to push in yet. Just... press.
So Mingi did exactly that, lightly applying pressure with his index finger while still stroking himself above, maintaining the slow rhythm Yunho had taught him earlier…
The dual sensations were overwhelming in their contrast, one hand teasing delicate nerve endings below while the other worked careful friction up top…
Then Yunho’s voice came again after listening silently for a moment, "Can you press slightly harder? Not inside… just more firmly against it."
Mingi nodded and increased pressure gradually until he was essentially massaging over sensitive skin there through fabric rather than actually entering anything…
It sent weird little zaps through his system. Strange, not unpleasant. But different enough to keep him hyper-aware of both hands working simultaneously now…
And then another instruction came, “Now circle your rim a little before pressing a first finger inside.”
Mingi's fingers trembled slightly as he followed the command, his breath shallow. He traced slow circles around the sensitive area, testing the sensation. Each rotation sent tiny shocks of awareness up his spine.
Then came the next part: pressing a finger inside.
He exhaled shakily and slowly curled his fingertip downward, applying gentle pressure until finally the pad of it slipped past resistance. Just barely. Only a knuckle maybe… but it was enough to make Mingi gasp softly.
The stretch wasn’t intense (he’d had Yunho’s fingers there before but also his big dick so he could bear with his own fingers), but doing this alone? It felt intimate in a different way…
Yunho must've heard that little gasp because he responded immediately with soft encouragement, "Breathe… you're doing so good Mingi."
That praise again. Always hitting Mingi right where it mattered most emotionally during something like this...
"Push in just a little deeper... stop if anything feels uncomfortable."
Mingi swallowed hard and obeyed cautiously, easing forward another fraction while keeping tension out of shoulders consciously so as not to tense up too much...
It didn't hurt thankfully, just a weirdly present sensation mixed with everything else happening above at the same time…
“Mmgh—”
Mingi’s quiet sound was muffled against his own shoulder, half a moan, half a sigh. The finger inside him stayed shallow. Just enough to feel the stretch without pushing further yet.
His other hand kept moving in that same slow rhythm above: thumb swirling the head, twisting at the base on each upward stroke. The contrast was dizzying, the dual sensations making his whole body thrum with oversensitivity.
Yunho listened quietly for another moment before speaking again, voice even lower than before if possible.
“Okay… now curl your finger slightly when you’re in there. Try to find that sweet spot. Remember how it felt each time I hit it when I was inside you.”
Mingi blinked but did as told instantly. He bent his index finger just so, toward himself and immediately froze when something sparked behind his navel like fireworks going off all at once…
A soft ‘Ah!’ escaped him this time louder than intended because holy shit, that spot felt insane already and Yunho hadn’t even instructed him to thrust it yet!
The priest chuckled softly on hearing Mingi's reaction, clearly pleased by how responsive he'd been...
“Did it feel good?”
It wasn't teasing or mocking... Just genuinely curious about Mingi's experience while doing what he said.
“Do it again, hit that spot again Mingi, make yourself feel good.”
Mingi's finger curled again, deliberately this time. Hunting for that same electric spot. When he found it, a shudder wracked his body.
“Yes—”
That tiny pressure point lit up like lightning under his skin. It was maddening how intense the sensation was just from one curled fingertip not even moving yet.
He did it again and again in quick succession now, chasing the buzz of pleasure with each precise brush against that sweet inner wall. His breath came faster; shallow little pants as he got lost in the rhythm.
The other hand still stroked slowly and teasing, thumb circling every few passes while twisting at base to build friction without rushing toward anything too soon…
And together?
The combination made Mingi feel dizzyingly good already despite having done nothing but press fingers lightly so far...
Yunho’s voice broke through the haze “Are you close?”
Mingi bit down on lip hard before answering honestly because lying would ruin this moment entirely…
“No… not really,” He admitted softly between breaths. “But I feel really good.”
“Good.” Yunho said warmly then added something new, “I want you to keep curling your finger there steadily... but add one, the resistance should have gone away now and start stroking yourself faster."
Mingi inhaled sharply as he added a second finger, pushing in slowly with the same careful pressure. The stretch was more noticeable this time, but not painful, just full. His body yielded to the intrusion without resistance now.
He curled both fingers slightly, still focusing on that spot inside him while simultaneously increasing the pace of his stroking above.
The change in rhythm sent waves of pleasure crashing through him faster than before. The faster strokes combined with steady curling against that sweet spot had Mingi arching subtly into it all. Chasing every sensation greedily now.
His breath came out in short little bursts between parted lips and his abs flexed unconsciously beneath his shirt from how tightly coiled tension felt inside him...
It wasn’t enough to tip over just yet (thankfully Yunho wanted this slow) but damn if everything didn't feel overwhelmingly good right now...
And then suddenly—
Yunho spoke again after a few seconds:
"Now move your fingers inside… gently thrust them and reach for your prostate each time you do."
Mingi's fingers began to move. Small, shallow thrusts at first, just pushing in and out carefully to ease the resistance some more. Each time he curled them forward on the inward stroke, aiming for that spongy little spot.
The sensation was electric. Every deliberate press against his prostate sent a jolt straight up his spine, sharp but sweet like static before lightning strikes.
He kept stroking himself with the other hand too, matching the new internal rhythm now: faster above while gentle but persistent inside...
It built quickly. Too quickly maybe? The dual stimulation overwhelmed him in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else except how good this felt all over…
A soft whine slipped out unconsciously as Mingi got lost between both sensations melting together into one coiling heat low in his stomach...
Yunho must've heard because there was another pause before priest murmured something tenderly:
"Breathe… you're doing so well princess…"
That pet name hit Mingi right behind eyes and chest simultaneously making heart clench oddly tight within the ribcage for reasons he couldn't name yet…
“Yunho…”
The way Mingi moaned his name, soft, desperate, melting with pleasure sent something fierce and warm surging through Yunho’s chest.
For a moment, the priest forgot to breathe. Forgot he was supposed to be guiding this. Forgot everything except the sound of Mingi unraveling because of him, because of this intimacy they’d never had before over voice alone.
“Princess…” he repeated quietly, like a prayer or an endearment too private for anyone else ever to hear.
And then he added softly, “Keep going… just like that. You’re doing so good.”
Mingi obeyed without question now. Fingers thrusting gently inside while curling on every push forward toward that spot; hand stroking faster above in sync with his breathy little moans escaping between lips parted slightly…
He was close but not quite there yet, hovering on edge beautifully as tension coiled tighter in belly and thighs...
Yunho listened closely, not rushing him despite how badly part of him wanted Mingi losing control completely right now, but savoring each gasp first...
Until finally, “Do you want me to tell you when?”
“W-what?” Mingi stuttered, cracking one eye open, his movements faltering just a moment.
“Do you want me to tell you when you should come?” Yunho explained more clearly this time.
Mingi's brain short-circuited for a second.
Did Yunho seriously just ask that? Like, out loud? At this moment? Or was he so horny and worked up he imagined it?
Anyway, it sent heat rushing to his face and lower at the same time. The idea of being told when to come by Yunho, of losing control on command, was embarrassingly hot.
He hesitated only a heartbeat before answering, voice already wrecked from pleasure, “Y-yes… please.”
Yunho exhaled softly through his nose, something between affection and quiet triumph in the sound. He liked that Mingi trusted him enough to say yes so easily.
“Okay,” he murmured, then added with gentle authority, “I want you to fuck yourself on your finger harder and stroke yourself with a little bit more of pressure. Let the orgasm build but you don’t get to come until I say so.”
Mingi's breath hitched as he increased the intensity. Fingers thrusting deeper, curling more insistently against that sweet spot inside while his other hand tightened slightly around himself. The pressure changed enough to make pleasure spike sharper.
It was torture in the best way possible. Every nerve felt electrified, every movement amplified by how close he already was to tipping over.
He bit down on his lip hard, not even realizing it, to stifle a moan but tiny sounds still escaped him anyway: little whimpers and shaky exhales as tension coiled tighter in his stomach with each stroke.
Yunho stayed quiet for a few moments, just listening to Mingi’s breathing, soft noises, and occasional shifts of fabric from movement…
Then finally the priest spoke again, “Good boy… you’re doing so well holding back.”
That praise sent warmth flooding through Mingi despite how wound up he felt physically. It made him want to please Yunho even more now...
And then came another instruction after another pause, “I want you to increase your speed above… double it approximately.”
Mingi swallowed hard before obeying instantly. Hand moving faster up-down-up-down his shaft while fingers kept thrusting inside at an increased pace too…
The sudden escalation was overwhelming.
Mingi’s body responded instantly. Every muscle tensing, every breath turning shallow and uneven. The rapid strokes above sent waves of white-hot pleasure surging through him, while the faster thrusts inside hit that perfect spot with relentless precision.
It built so quickly it almost hurt, not in a bad way, but in that too much too soon kind of intensity where his vision blurred slightly at the edges.
A high-pitched whine escaped Mingi this time as he struggled to keep control like Yunho asked. His hips jerked involuntarily into his hands’ movements now, chasing friction desperately even though he wasn’t supposed to come yet…
Sweat prickled along his hairline despite laying still on couch cushions, entire body coiled tight, ready to burst.
Yunho could probably hear how desperate Mingi sounded by now, the hitches between breaths getting closer together with each passing second...
But there was no mercy yet from priest's side either because then came another quiet command:
"Keep going… don't slow down."
“Yunho—I–shit—”
Mingi's voice cracked on Yunho's name, a desperate whimper tearing from his throat. The pleasure was too much, the sensations overwhelming, every nerve ending alight, every muscle tensed to the breaking point.
He didn't dare slow down. Didn’t even consider it. Every stroke of his hand and every thrust of his fingers was mechanical now, driven by pure instinct and Yunho’s command.
Tears pricked at the corners of Mingi’s eyes from how intense everything felt all at once. His thighs trembled with tension, sweat dampened his shirt where it clung to him.
And still… he held back like a good boy because Yunho had told him not to come yet.
A soft sob mixed in with one particularly shaky exhale as Mingi hovered right on that edge, teetering there painfully close but forbidden release unless granted permission first...
Yunho finally broke silence after several more agonizing seconds:
"You’ve been so good Mingi, so, so good princess, you can let go now."
These simple words that shattered whatever fragile control remained in Mingi instantly.
A choked cry escaped him as his body finally surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. His hips bucked uncontrollably into his hand while his inner muscles clenched around the fingers still curled inside him.
Waves of white-hot ecstasy crashed over him in rapid succession, each one stronger than the last. Every nerve fired at once. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain but in the most exquisite way possible.
His back arched slightly off the couch cushions as he came hard under Yunho's guidance, vision going blurry with tears and sheer sensation flooding every sense as he painted his shirt with white thick ropes...
It lasted longer than expected, his orgasm rippling through him again and again from how perfectly built up it had been by slow teasing earlier combined with that final rush...
And when it finally started subsiding—
Mingi collapsed bonelessly against cushions panting heavily like he’d just run a marathon. Chest rising fast beneath shirt, limbs heavy, mind blank except for aftershocks still flickering pleasantly across skin…
For several long moments all Mingi could do was breathe… recover…
Meanwhile on the other end of line Yunho hadn't said anything since telling Mingi to let go.
“Y-Yunho?” Mingi called, his voice shaking.
Yunho's voice came through the line almost immediately. His voice was rougher like he was the one struggling to breathe now.
“S-sorry—I’m still here, don't worry. Are you okay?" He asked simply next like checking on him physically first before anything else.
Mingi nodded automatically even though Yunho couldn't see it and replied quietly: "Yeah… I'm good."
A small smile tugged at his lips despite how utterly spent he felt right now...
“You were incredible Mingi,” Yunho added gently after another pause. “You sounded so beautiful.”
The compliment made Mingi’s cheeks flush all over again despite being post-orgasm blissed out right now...
He opened his mouth to respond but nothing coherent came out first so instead he just exhaled shakily into the receiver while coming down from high slowly...
After some minutes of just breathing heavy, he asked,
“Did you... um...” A nervous swallow. “Did you do anything?”
Yunho exhaled, soft and slow. There was a quiet admission in the sound, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time.
“I… didn’t,” he said finally, voice low with something that might’ve been guilt or restraint. “I was too focused listening to you, guiding you and it felt—Jeez it was so good I couldn’t bring myself to touch me.”
Mingi's heart swelled with something warm and tender at that.
Yunho hadn't touched himself, had focused entirely on Mingi, guiding him through every sensation, praising him softly the whole time… all while holding back his own needs.
The selflessness of it made Mingi feel a rush of affection so strong it almost overwhelmed the post-orgasm haze still clinging to his limbs.
"Yunho..." he whispered, voice soft with emotion now rather than pleasure.
There was a pause where neither spoke, just breathing in sync over the line after everything they’d just shared intimately together despite being miles apart physically...
Then suddenly inspiration struck Mingi like lightning.
Without thinking too hard about it, "Can I... help you? Right now?"
The question hung there quietly between them but loud enough for Yunho to hear clearly.
“Hum…” Yunho said through the speaker and Mingi felt his heart clenched.
Did he not want to?
But then Yunho cleared his throat and when he spoke, his voice was filled with fondness and embarrassment, “You don’t need to do anything princess, you’ve been so good, so hot that I kinda came without even needing to touch myself.”
Mingi's eyes widened slightly at Yunho's confession.
Yunho had... come? Just from listening to him?
That realization sent a rush of pride and something unbearably sweet through Mingi’s chest. The idea that he’d been so good, so hot that just hearing his sounds and voice had driven Yunho over the edge was unexpectedly flattering.
A slow grin spread across Mingi’s face despite how tired he was. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything stupidly giddy like really?
Instead, after a beat, he murmured softly, “You… came just by hearing me?”
There was no teasing in it, just genuine awe laced with quiet affection for the man who’d focused entirely on him this whole time without even touching himself.
Yunho let out a tiny embarrassed laugh and rubbed his face briefly before answering:
“I did.” A pause. Then quieter: “I couldn’t help it.”
Another wave of warmth flooded Mingi at that admission because wow… It meant more than Yunho would ever say aloud right now probably…
He shifted against cushions sleepily now as adrenaline faded completely into cozy exhaustion…
“You should clean up and go to bed, Mingi,” Yunho said, feeling that at this rate the other man would just fall asleep on his couch, probably covered with his own cum.
And that wasn't what he wanted.
If he had been there, he would have taken care of Mingi. He would have carried him through the apartment, cleaned up his mess, pampered him with kisses and cuddled him to sleep.
Mingi nodded, already yawning mid-nod. His body was heavy with the kind of deep relaxation that only came after intense pleasure and release.
“Okay… yeah,” he mumbled, pushing himself up slowly from the couch. Then— “Can you—Sorry, if that’s not too much to ask, can you stay in line until I am in my bed?”
Yunho's heart melted at Mingi’s sleepy request.
"Of course," he said immediately, his voice soft as a blanket. "I'm not going anywhere."
He could practically picture Mingi stumbling around the apartment. Still half-dazed from pleasure and exhaustion, maybe kicking off his shoes or tugging off that messy shirt before crawling into bed.
The thought made him smile fondly.
So Yunho stayed silent on the line while listening to the muffled sounds of movement after jumping in clean underwear: fabric rustling, footsteps padding softly across hardwood floors… water running into a sink–stopping. Then finally, the unmistakable creak of a mattress as Mingi sank onto it.
A few more seconds passed before there was another rustle. Blankets being pulled up? A pillow fluffed?
Then came silence again. Peaceful breathing through the speaker soon after…
“You know…” Mingi's sleepy voice echoed so softly Yunho barely catched it at first, “It’s not something I do oftenly, usually.”
“What do you mean?” Yunho asked softly, curioused by what he meant.
“Bottoming…” Mingi mumbled, “But it’s okay when it’s with you, I love it when it’s with you…”
A beat.
“I love you…”
Yunho’s breath caught in his throat.
The quiet confession, so simple and sleepy, hit him like a tidal wave. Mingi—Mingi—was saying he loved him. Right now. After something as tenderly intimate as this.
His eyes stung suddenly, not with sadness but overwhelming emotion. His chest tightened until it almost hurt to breathe.
For a moment Yunho couldn't speak at all because his heart was pounding too loud in his ears to form words properly...
But when he finally did, there was no more obvious answer than, “I love you too,” he whispered it back fiercely into the phone despite how soft the line could be heard through the speaker… Like if saying it any louder would scare Mingi awake or make it less real somehow…
And then quietly added, “So much. You shattered my own world Mingi and brought up alive things I had buried deep inside my heart.”
But even that wasn’t even close enough either way. How much? How deeply? There weren't enough syllables or vocabulary for this kind of feeling burning inside him right now...
He listened closely again for Mingi's breathing which had gone slow and even by then... Probably asleep already.
No answer came though, not verbally anyway, but that steady rhythm confirmed what Yunho suspected: His boy had fallen asleep mid-confession on their call.
“Sleep tight princess.” He smiled, settling comfortably into his own bed miles away. He reached out unconsciously as if wanting to touch Mingi’s face or brush hair from forehead but of course… no one was there beside him.
So he simply continued to hold the phone closer than necessary, listening intently to Mingi's soft breathing until it lulled him and sleep overtook him.
Still on the phone with Mingi.
Never hanging up.