You're Mine.
Title: You're Mine.
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG13
Summary: Taemin is teasing. Minho is possessive. They finally meet again after a long period of absence. (I suck at summaries ok)
Don’t look.
Taemin tried to keep his eyes trained on Yunho’s face, although he couldn’t prevent his eyes from flickering to the entrance behind the man every time he heard the slight gush of wind blowing in through the opening door. The start of a new school year, he mused.
Keep calm. Act casual. Wait until he comes to you.
He leant his shoulder against the locker, legs crossed at the ankles with an armful of books, face upturned with cheeks aching from keeping that smile in place and enjoying how Yunho stared at him with rapid fascination. The man had a grin on his face that looked like a predator catching a glimpse of its prey, wolfish and with bared teeth, incisors at the sides that were too sharp to be considered normal. It felt like he was an angel from the heavens as he blew the bleached fringe away from his eyes with a puff of air, and Yunho’s eyes became slightly glazed over, entranced with this beauty in front of him.
The breeze of air this time carried the familiar cologne.
Soft footsteps came nearer and nearer, matching the pulse of his heartbeat that seemed to thump in his ears and a familiar build approached from the corner of his eyes. Taemin let a drifting laugh escape as he fluttered his hand against the man’s forearm.
Don’t look up.
Taemin felt a warm, firm grasp enclose around his wrist tightly, dragging his body away from Yunho who looked on, crestfallen. He didn’t even bother looking back apologetically, instead pretending to resist from Minho’s hold, hiding a smile with a bowed head as he followed a step behind.
He would never admit that he liked it.
Minho dragged him to the boys’ toilets, releasing his grasp as he leant against one of the stalls, muscles in his biceps flexing as he crossed his arms across his chest. The bathrooms were empty, it only being the start of the morning, and Taemin placed all his books into a dry sink. He wondered absently what the other boy thought of his new hair colour as he played with the soap dispenser, wondered if Minho had been working out during the summer and if he had missed him during the long, hot break.
‘Who was that boy?’
There was authority in his voice, as if Minho was actually his mother and he had stumbled home late, dropped off by an unfamiliar car blaring music that woke up the whole neighbourhood and reeking of alcohol. It could be contrived as a friendly enough question, asked between friends and concerning acquaintances they had never met before. But Taemin heard the hidden message in those short few words.
You belong to me.
‘Oh, you know. Yunho hyung. Our senior?’
Nonchalant. Short. To the point, no excuses made. Also implying to Minho that Yunho was better, simply because he was older. And it worked, seeing the frown on his face, questioning why a senior would have anything to do with his Taemin. His pretty little Taemin.
And that answered Minho's question.
Minho never did like sharing, even when he was a child and his older brother stole his brand new, shiny toys. And this was another case of his nice, shiny toy being stolen from him, right in front of his very eyes again. Who could blame that ‘Yunho’, especially when Taemin was tempting with full, pink lips that he pressed together to emphasise the plump thickness, like he was doing right now.
Like a pretty, new doll.
And his hair. Obviously Taemin had gotten bored of the previous rustic brown it had been, and it fit against his porcelain skin so perfectly. Too perfectly. Not that Minho was going to comment on it, compliment it even. He wasn’t one to give out compliments, not when he was able to reach across and run his fingers through those silken locks, feeling the fine hair that he had missed having between his fingers. Taemin hummed small noises of appreciation as he nudged his head closer to Minho, rather like a cat purring and curled up in your lap.
‘Where have you been all summer?’ Minho didn’t like how his voice came out almost soft - yet hoarse, unlike his normal low baritone. He also didn’t like that he had to ask this question.
Because everyone knows that the power of the relationship lies with whoever cares the least.
Taemin’s head jerked up in annoyance when his hand stopped, nudging his shoulder with a whine and stepping back to lean against the sink, replying nonchalantly as he examined his nails for dirt.. ‘We went to our grandmother’s house for a couple of weeks. Other than that, nowhere but home.’
‘How come you’ve been ignoring my calls then?’
A chuckle came, so unlike the one heard in the hall that was dainty and rang throughout the air; this one was sultry and rich and sent a shiver down Minho’s back, and he could feel the hairs stand up.
‘My phone broke, didn’t it?’ Taemin pulled out a shiny new phone from his back pocket with a flourish, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger, and Minho couldn’t tell whether or not he was lying and he had really got the phone for his birthday. ‘And of course, I lost all my numbers, didn’t I?’ The smirk on Taemin’s face suggested something completely different.
‘2 months, Taemin. I thought you vanished off the face of the earth or something.’ There it was again, that hint of a petulant tone coming through, as if Minho was worried. And of course he hadn’t been. Minho had gone on with his own life and busy, busy schedule, not checking every 15 minutes in case Taemin had texted him.
‘Hyung, did you miss me?’ His voice was teasing, pretty little lips forming a mock pout that curled at one edge.
‘Fuck you.’
A glint came into Taemin’s suddenly dark eyes, and he no longer resembled an angel, but wicked, sinful temptations that one could only give into and had no hold against, those who were weak willed and held no power that is. He licked his lips unconsciously, providing a sheen of moisture that turned his pink lips even pinker, and the gurgling of the pipes seemed to quieten in the room enough to let him hear Minho swallow, adams apples bobbing prominently in his long throat simultaneously.
‘You would like that, wouldn’t you? To fuck me?’
Minho shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, unfolding his arms and placing hands on the counter on either side of the slight body that was in front of him.
A step closer. Close the distance between them.
Minho still towered over Taemin, and even if he had grown during the break his head only reached under Minho’s nose, filling his nostrils with that sweet, sweet scent that could only be described as Taemin. There were only inches between them, and his skin seemed to tingle with awareness, goose bumps on his neck where Taemin’s breath ghosted over.
After all, Taemin is sweet, pure vanilla whilst Minho is bitter, dark chocolate.
His hand reached out, thumb dragging Taemin’s mouth smooth and downwards, pulling those pinkly pink lips until the fleshy inside was exposed, a sharp bottom row of milky white teeth. There was nowhere for Taemin to turn to, trapped like he had trapped Minho during the summer, and he seemed to shrink into himself as he tried to edge further onto the counter, anything to get away from Minho. Taemin’s eyes darted up to meet Minho’s, dark and unreadable and hidden intentions unraveled with that flash of a glint.
‘Now, now. I wouldn’t expect such vulgar words to come out from such a pretty little mouth.’ It was low, almost a growl that blew the still minty breath over Taemin’s face.
Because sweet, pure vanilla and bitter, dark chocolate always blended together to create smooth, decadent, sinfully delicious chocolate.
A/N: ok yea this'll do.