Addicted to You (1/2)
Title: Addicted to You
Pairing: Minseok/Luhan
Rating: NC-17
Genre: action, romance, au
Length: 11,000
Summary: Because the road is dark and cold and icy and what fun is it to risk your life alone when you can do it together?
A/N: Title and plot inspiration brought to you by this song (except I am a sucker for happy endings oops), and also my friend for telling me the whole story of Bonnie and Clyde, and finally Wikipedia for including this gem when explaining why their story was so widely followed: “new criminal superstars with the most titillating trademark of all-illicit sex.“ Because if that isn't begging to be made into a fic I don't know what is.
From where Minseok is leaning lazily against the bar he can see snow falling heavily beyond the frosted windowpane.
“Less lounging, more working,” the bartender grunts from behind him, and Minseok sighs lightly before turning and walking back over to one of the few occupied tables, asking the men sitting there if they want another round. They do, of course, because this is the type of tiny town where life looks much better through an alcoholic haze, and they don’t mind that Minseok isn’t exactly the most attentive waiter.
“You’re not doing half bad for your first day,” the bartender says, giving Minseok an appraising glance as he strolls back up to the bar. Minseok grins, all teeth.
“Think you’ll want to hire me full-time?” he asks, and the man just smirks, eyes dragging lower to where Minseok’s dark jeans are stretched tight across his hips.
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” he says. But then the bell above the door tinkles brightly and they both turn to see someone breezing through the door as if pushed by the cold wind howling outside. Minseok shivers, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of the icy gust that rolls past him as the door slams shut or the way the boy seems to glow, eyes glimmering darkly as he saunters over to the bar.
“A shot of your most expensive scotch,” the boy snaps, honey-colored hair soft under the yellow lamplight, almost as soft as the look he shoots in Minseok’s direction when the bartender turns around, flustered by the demand and by the boy’s satiny voice.
Minseok smirks, and Luhan returns the smile before turning away, tossing the alcohol down his throat in one swift motion.
“That’s the stuff,” he gasps, licking his lips. And then he’s pulling back and launching the shot glass at the line of multi-colored bottles stacked along the back of the bar. It slams into a bottle of what Minseok now knows is one of the bar’s better whiskeys, and Minseok barely has time to reach into his apron and pull out the gun hidden in his waistband before Luhan is shouting, sending everyone crumpling to the floor as he waves a pistol about menacingly.
“Get down, go on!” Minseok yells, gun held firmly out in front of him, and the few remaining stragglers hit the ground, crawling under tables and chairs, staring up at him in shock.
“Well?” Luhan says to the shivering bartender, leaning over the bar so he can stare him right in the eye. “I’m waiting.”
“I-I don’t-” the man sputters, face white with fear and confusion, and Luhan sighs in annoyance, ostentatiously cocking his pistol. The man shudders but stops protesting, instead moving quickly over to the cash register, entering a code, and sliding it open. Luhan’s quick to push him out of the way, yanking out wads of bills and shoving them into the backpack he has slung around his shoulders. Minseok’s eyes dart back and forth across the nearly-empty bar, making sure no one tries anything, and he’s glad to hear Luhan’s voice from behind him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he laughs, sound unbearably gorgeous in the dusty heat of the bar, and Minseok grins widely, following him out into the frigid night air. They run, boots crunching over the new-fallen snow, and they’re both out of breath by the time they reach the car, dissolving into fits of giggles. Minseok slides into the driver’s seat and as they speed away into the darkness Luhan throws his arms around Minseok’s neck, presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
“You look good in an apron,” Luhan whispers, breath hot against the curve of Minseok’s ear, and Minseok rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
“Don’t get used to it,” he says with a breathy laugh as Luhan begins to press soft kisses against the column of his neck. “And stop distracting me when I’m driving!”
“Your wish is my command,” Luhan replies smugly, pulling backwards, but he leaves his hand resting on Minseok’s thigh. Luhan rolls down the window, and before Minseok can ask what he’s doing he sticks his head out and screams loudly into the night, sound echoing wildly in the snow. Minseok presses down even harder on the accelerator, ignoring the way it’s getting more and more difficult to see with every passing second, and yanks Luhan back into the car, rolling up his window and laughing at the way Luhan’s cheeks are bright red with cold, eyes glistening and wind-stung. It’s a beautiful night.
“Are you up for an adventure?” Luhan had asked, that first warm night back when he had appeared on Minseok's front porch and Minseok was still too stupid to realize that adventure was all he’d ever wanted.
“What kind of adventure?” Minseok had said in reply, letting Luhan twine their fingers together even though he didn't even know his name yet. For some reason it felt like the right thing to do.
“Why me?” Minseok had asked one time, as they sat propped against the headboard of an uncomfortable, questionably clean hotel bed, and Luhan had gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he had laughed, and Minseok had simply shaken his head because Luhan can never give a straight answer. When he’s drunk it just gets worse.
“If it were I wouldn’t be asking,” Minseok had muttered, turning his eyes back to the flickering television screen, and he’d jumped a little when Luhan reached out a hand and pulled his chin back around so they were facing each other.
“How could it have been anyone but you?” Luhan had whispered against his lips, and Minseok had sighed slightly, relinquishing himself to Luhan’s touches, Luhan’s soft, sweet words. When it comes to that, at least, he knows how to get the answer he wants.
It’s nearly mid-afternoon when they pull up outside a small store set back a little ways from the road, but there’s no one around. The snow lays thick and heavy on the ground, and Luhan shivers when he steps out of the car, breath puffing out of his mouth in a glittering cloud.
“Like dragons,” Minseok says with a lopsided grin, and Luhan’s eyes brighten as he sucks in another deep breath before expelling all the air in his lungs with a drawn-out sigh.
“Like dragons,” he agrees, lips curling upwards. “Let’s get inside, it’s cold out here.”
Minseok almost feels sorry for the old man behind the counter-they’re probably the first people he’s seen in days and they’re threatening to kill him. Luhan always does the shouting bit, and Minseok doesn’t mind. It makes a pleasant heat curl in his stomach to see Luhan ordering people around, to see Luhan being obeyed. So maybe Minseok’s always had a thing for people with power.
When it’s obvious they have nothing to worry about-the tiny store doesn’t even have a bathroom-Minseok leans back against a rack of packaged chips and roasted nuts and folds his arms across his chest, letting Luhan do all the work. The cash register is fortuitously full, probably because the man hasn’t been able to make it to town in all this snow to put the money in the bank.
“Aww, come on, help me out,” Luhan whines, pushing out his lower lip as he continues to stuff handfuls of bills into his satchel. The bearded man on the floor manages to shoot Minseok a curious look before Luhan lifts an arm and points the gun right at him, sending him splaying back across the grimy floor in terror.
“You seem to be doing a good job all by yourself,” Minseok snorts, scratching his head absentmindedly with the butt of his gun.
“My arms are getting tired,” Luhan says, and Minseok groans, lifting his aching body off the snack food rack to slide over to where Luhan is standing, thin fingers smeared with ink and the scent of money.
“You big baby,” Minseok teases as he snatches up the last few clusters of bills and shoves them into his pockets, grabbing the satchel and letting Luhan thread his arm through Minseok’s as they sweep out the door. It slams shut behind them with a satisfying thud.
“You love it,” Luhan smirks, grabbing Minseok’s other arm and spinning him around until they’re facing each other.
“You’re still a baby,” Minseok says, but the rest of his words are muffled by Luhan’s lips as he crashes their mouths together. Luhan tastes like snow and cold, hard cash, and when he licks into Minseok’s mouth his tongue is so hot Minseok feels like he’s melting. Snowflakes settle on their lashes and when Minseok looks up his breath catches at the way Luhan shines, eyes framed by hundreds of tiny glistening rainbows.
“You’re beautiful,” Luhan breathes, amazement heavy in his voice, and Minseok smiles that lopsided smile he knows Luhan loves, reaching up a gentle hand to brush the droplets of water out of Luhan’s eyebrows, his bangs, his eyelashes.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and Luhan smiles, not letting go of his hand until they reach the car still sitting out by the road, waiting patiently for them to return.
“How old are you?” Minseok asks, the second time he finds Luhan sitting on his front porch, and Luhan looks up at him with a grin that makes him look even younger-incredibly mischievous and incredibly endearing.
“Old enough,” he says with an irritatingly wide grin, and Minseok rolls his eyes, sitting down beside him on the rough wooden boards.
“Where do you live?” Minseok asks. “I haven’t seen you around here before. But you seem really familiar. Did you go to university?”
Luhan doesn’t respond to any of Minseok’s questions. He never does. Instead, he cocks his head inquisitively to the side like a tiny bird and asks, “Why aren’t you at university?”
“That’s-” Minseok begins harshly before sighing, running a tired hand through his hair. “I wanted to be a journalist. But my parents decided it’d be better for me to come back here and run the store when my dad hurt his back.”
“You don’t like it here,” Luhan says, and it’s a statement not a question so Minseok doesn’t bother to nod. He hates it here. He hates the way every street looks just the same, hates the way his parent’s words still sound the same as they had when he was a child, forced out into the moon-drenched snow piling up outside the back door because he’d been audacious enough to contradict them.
“What are you doing here?” Minseok asks instead, trying to draw the conversation away from himself, but Luhan just smiles, eyes pulling upwards in a way that makes Minseok’s heart stutter unexpectedly.
“I’m just visiting,” Luhan says, swinging his feet against the step below the one they’re sitting on, the continuous thunk of shoe against wood somehow comforting rather than annoying. “I’ll be leaving soon. You should come with me.”
“I can’t,” Minseok says, and he’s surprised by how much it hurts to say the words.
“We’ll see,” Luhan laughs, and his tone is so bright and cheerful that it’s not until later that night that Minseok realizes how confident those words had sounded, how self-assured and teasing. That night is the first night he dreams of Luhan. He’s standing in the darkness behind the house, skin glowing dimly in the light of the harshly twinkling stars, and Minseok tries to run towards him but the snow is thick and it holds him back, cementing him in place, and when he tries to cry out Luhan disappears. He wakes up covered in sweat, heart racing, and shivers when he realizes that all his blankets have fallen to the floor, leaving him exposed to the chilly air squeezing past his windowframe.
“Turn here,” Luhan says, leaning over Minseok to point at a nondescript road leading up and to their left. Minseok is hesitant, since they’re supposed to be trying to put as many miles between them and the store as possible, but Luhan looks so excited he can’t say no, instead wrenching the wheel sideways just as they pass by. The sudden movement sends Luhan lurching over into his lap, but Minseok can’t say he minds, especially when Luhan takes advantage of his new position to slide his hands up Minseok’s shirt, fingers pressing playfully at the buckle of Minseok’s belt, at the curve of his ribs.
“Where are we going?” Minseok finally manages to ask, slapping Luhan’s hands away before he’s too distracted to make sure they don’t plunge to their death over some snowy cliff. The road is climbing steadily upwards, snaking between snow-laden trees and dark granite boulders, jagged against the smooth, undulating white blanket covering the rest of the ground.
“You’ll see,” Luhan says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Minseok laughs, reaching out a hand to smooth Luhan’s hair back off his forehead. Luhan leans eagerly into the touch and it makes Minseok laugh again, how much Luhan needs physical contact.
“This better be good,” he warns. “If we’re wasting this much time on it. We promised Jongdae we’d meet up with him tonight.”
“Relax, it’s not even that late yet,” Luhan sniffs, and when Minseok checks the small clock on the dashboard he’s surprised to find that Luhan is right. Night comes so early in the winter, it makes Minseok feel like midnight lasts forever. The sun hasn’t quite set by the time they reach the top of the mountain they’ve been winding around for nearly half an hour-bright orange and pink streamers of light stain the ink-dark sky as Luhan gapes at the smooth reddish orb slowly sinking below the horizon.
Minseok gets out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him, and the sound is as loud as a gunshot in the intense evening quiet. By the time he’s strolled over to lean against the still-warm hood, Luhan has bounded out of the passenger seat, reaching over to grab Minseok’s hand and ignoring his halfhearted protests as he pulls him forward. Their shoes crunch delicately on the pale, crusty snow, and Minseok shivers at the cold wind tearing past them. But then they’re coming out of a small stand of trees, cliff edge opening up into wide, empty space, and Minseok gasps, unable to help himself from marveling at the way the ground drops away. The riotously colored sky is so close he feels like he could touch it if he stood on his tiptoes.
“Look,” Luhan whispers breathily, cold fingers twisted tightly in Minseok’s own, and Minseok looks, scene before him blurred slightly as the wind whips sharp puffs of ice into his eyes.
It’s beautiful. From where they’re standing it looks like the whole world is spread out before them-all warm yellow light and glistening snow and dark winding roads. Minseok can see the stoplights of the city below changing color and it’s only after they’ve gone red then green then red again that he realizes he hasn’t been breathing and gasps in a shuddering gulp of air.
“This is amazing,” he says, and he loves the way Luhan smiles at him, eyes blindingly bright in the light from the setting sun.
“Imagine if we were birds, Minseok,” Luhan says, gripping Minseok’s hand even tighter, every muscle in his body poised as if preparing for flight. “Wouldn’t you like to just throw yourself off this cliff, knowing the wind would catch you, knowing you’d be able to soar above all this?”
“I think I’d be afraid to do that even if I did have wings,” Minseok laughs, reaching up his other hand to fiddle with a few unruly strands of hair that keep catching in Luhan’s eyelashes.
“If you weren’t here, I’d do it now,” Luhan says with a brilliant grin that makes it impossible for Minseok to tell if he’s exaggerating. “I think the wind would catch me, too.”
“Always such a big opinion of your importance in the universe,” Minseok sighs, leaning his head on Luhan’s shoulder. “You’re not that light.”
“You would know,” Luhan snorts, sticking out his tongue in a way Minseok finds both ridiculously endearing and annoyingly childish. “I know I’m right.”
And before Minseok can come up with a response, before he can ask Luhan if he really thinks about flying, about throwing himself off of high places just to see what would happen to the fleshy mass that is his body, Luhan is sliding his hand out of Minseok’s grasp and bounding back over to the car. He jumps inside, motioning to Minseok through the glass, and Minseok smiles tiredly before trudging back through the small thicket, throwing himself into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed.
“Heat, heat, heat on now,” Luhan huffs, rubbing his hands together dramatically, and it makes Minseok laugh. As he pulls the car back onto the road, checking once, twice, three times to make sure there’s no one whipping around the curve behind them, he’s careful not to look in the rearview mirror where the cliff edge can still be seen receding into the distance. He’s always been just a little afraid of heights.
When they finally pull up in front of the bar, the moon is shining full and bright in the dark sky and they’re only a little late.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Jongdae laughs good-naturedly, slapping Minseok on the back and slinging an arm around Luhan’s shoulders. Luhan leans into the touch and Minseok smirks because Luhan’s always so touchy when he’s excited.
“We had to make an important stop,” Luhan sniffs, gazing innocently up into Jongdae’s warm eyes. Jongdae snorts, raising an eyebrow suggestively as he looks Minseok up and down. Minseok can’t stop himself from self-consciously reaching up a hand to fix his hair before Luhan laughs, sound bright in the dim room. The bar is fairly crowded, probably because it’s a weekend and Jongdae’s done a good job rebranding the place as somewhere for the young and reckless to come to forget the rest of the world.
“So I take it you’ve been doing well?” Jongdae asks, eyeing their large bags, and Luhan smiles at him, blinking sweetly the way he does when he’s trying to look cute.
“Excellently,” Luhan breathes, right in Jongdae’s ear, and Minseok smiles lazily at the way Jongdae jerks sideways, surprised at the sudden warmth. After spending so much time in confined spaces with Luhan, Minseok’s come to realize that his need for closeness probably stems from some sort of desire to invade other people’s personal space and make them uncomfortable.
They head towards the door at the back of the bar, Jongdae bowing obsequiously as he ushers the two of them inside, and Luhan pulls Minseok forward before he can protest. They collapse onto the spindly old sofa Jongdae keeps there-just for them, he says, since he doesn’t really deal with any other two-person teams-and Minseok coughs at the dust that rises in clouds around their heads.
“Think you could look into getting this sofa cleaned?” Minseok asks, hand covering his mouth as he tries not to breathe in any more dirt. Jongdae shrugs, flicking on a sputtering overhead light, and grabs the bags from where Luhan’s thrown them onto the table in front of them. Minseok is always impressed by the way he handles the money with so much propriety-casually pulling out handfuls of bills and beginning to sort them quickly and efficiently.
“Everything’s been going into remodeling the bar,” Jongdae says with a grin. “And besides, just think of how little character that sofa would have if I cleaned it. Right now, it’s an antique! You don’t mess with antiques.”
“What, can’t handle a little dust?” Luhan asks, tracing a thin finger along the line of Minseok’s jaw and Minseok gives him a look. Luhan’s lips twitch upwards as he meets Minseok’s eyes, playfully grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for a quick kiss.
“Really?” Jongdae asks, pausing for a moment to glare at them. “While I’m working?”
“Oh, you prude,” Luhan smirks, yanking on Minseok’s neck until their cheeks are pressed together. “It was just a kiss. We’re not exactly having sex in front of you.”
“Though I bet you’d love to do that, you little exhibitionist,” Jongdae laughs, and Luhan pouts so convincingly Minseok can’t stop himself from running a hand through Luhan’s hair, wrapping his arms around Luhan’s waist and pulling until Luhan’s back is curled against his chest. As he buries his face in Luhan’s shoulder, breathing in his warm, faintly sweet scent, Minseok smiles. Just a kiss.
“Just a kiss,” Luhan says, and Minseok has nowhere to go, the wall of his bedroom hard and cold against his back.
“I don’t-I can’t-” he gasps, eyes flicking all around the room as if searching for an escape route. If only he were more sure that he wants to escape.
“Minseok,” Luhan whispers, and finally Minseok gathers up the courage to look him straight in the eye.
It’s a mistake.
Luhan’s eyes are wide and deep and Minseok doesn’t realize he’s falling until it’s too late, until he can’t even see the ground rising up to meet him because everything is so dark. Luhan smiles, like he knows exactly what Minseok is thinking, and he moves even closer until they’re pressed flush against each other, bodies touching from chest to knee. Minseok gasps unconsciously at the sudden heat, and it just makes Luhan’s smile brighter.
“Just a kiss,” he says again, and Minseok wishes he’d never looked into those eyes because now every thought he had about why this was a bad idea, every argument he’d used to convince himself that this was wrong, that this wasn’t what he wanted, is gone, swept away in the current of the moonlight spilling in through the open window.
“I-” Minseok manages to stutter before clamping his mouth shut, unsure what exactly he even wants to say.
“If you don’t like it,” Luhan says, hands coming up to rest on Minseok’s shoulders, “then I’ll go. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again. Okay?”
And Minseok knows he should say no, knows he should order Luhan out of his house right now, knows he should push Luhan away, send him sprawling across the floor. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets his hands settle on Luhan’s hips, fingers tightening against the soft, creamy skin. Luhan lets out a breathy gasp that makes Minseok shudder, and suddenly all he wants is to hear Luhan make that noise again, to see his eyes go black and glossy as he stares at Minseok like he’s the only person left in the entire world.
“Okay,” Minseok whispers. “Okay, okay, please-”
But luckily Luhan doesn’t wait for him to finish and Minseok’s half-formed thoughts are swallowed up in the taste of Luhan’s lips, the smooth press of them against Minseok’s own. Minseok has never kissed anyone, has never had anyone want to kiss him before, but as Luhan’s tongue slides over Minseok’s slightly parted lips before slipping into his mouth, he feels a pang of loss for everything he’s been missing out on. Although, Minseok has a sneaking suspicion that kissing Luhan is much better than kissing anyone else could ever be, and so he gives himself up to the sensations flooding his body-skin on fire beneath Luhan’s fingers, mind whirling towards incoherence as he feels the press of Luhan’s cock against his thigh.
And Minseok knows Luhan can feel him too, it’d be impossible for him not to with the way they’re pressed so close, but he loves the way Luhan doesn’t move, doesn’t try to do anything more than reach up a hand to turn Minseok’s head and slot their mouths more tightly together.
Just a kiss. Just like he’d promised. Minseok has a thing for people who keep their promises.
“Okay, so this is a little bit more than last time, but it shouldn’t be any problem,” Jongdae says in his typical businessman voice, coolly sliding a hand over the neat stacks of bills in front of him.
“I assume your fee hasn’t changed much,” Luhan says wryly, and Jongdae looks up, rolling his eyes at the way they’re twined together, Minseok’s head on Luhan’s shoulder and Minseok’s arms around Luhan’s waist.
“Well, I could really used some extra cash to install a light-up dance floor,” Jongdae says musingly, pressing a finger to his lips, but when he sees Luhan’s eyes narrow he laughs, standing up and brushing dust off his jeans.
“For you two, anything,” is what he says, giving them a fond smile as the three of them set about packing the bills into his special compartmentalized briefcase. It doesn’t take long, and soon Jongdae is straightening up, sliding the briefcase into a strange hole in the floor that opens up beneath the sofa they’ve just abandoned before walking over to the door and showing them back out into the lights and sounds of the bar. Jongdae’s always been a bit of a romantic, and he’s always had a soft spot for them. Minseok’s grateful, especially if it means they don’t have to do all the legwork themselves with the offshore accounts and the no-questions-asked enormous cash deposits.
“Planning on staying in town a while?” Jongdae asks, stepping behind the bar and sliding them each a beer. Luhan opens his gratefully, gulping down the amber liquid, but Minseok simply holds his, letting beads of condensation roll down his fingers.
“We should probably get going,” Minseok says, and he’s careful not to look at the annoyed frown Luhan is giving him. “We still have a ways to go before we reach the place we’re spending the night.”
“You know you’re always welcome to stay here,” Jongdae says, a bit eagerly, and Minseok’s smile falters because he knows how lonely Jongdae gets sometimes, out here in the snow and the cold and the dark city streets. “The loft’s not bad at all, and it’s very discreet. If you didn’t work here you wouldn’t even guess that it exists, especially not from the outside.”
“Minseok,” Luhan whines, and maybe Minseok is just weak but he can’t stop his eyes from being drawn to Luhan’s lips, turned downwards into a frown. “Please?”
“Some other time, Jongdae,” Minseok says with a careful smile, and Jongdae gives him an easy grin in response, waving them off towards the door.
“You’re right, you lovebirds should probably keep moving,” he laughs. “And I wouldn’t want anyone…unsavory…showing up to wreck my fine establishment anyway.”
“We’re still not drug dealers,” Minseok snorts as he wraps a hand around Luhan’s wrist and pulls him towards the door.
“Sure!” he hears Jongdae yell disbelievingly after them before the door slams shut and they’re left out in the blurry whiteness of the night.
“How come we never do what I want to do?” Luhan asks as they climb into the car and Minseok peels them slowly off the snow-dotted asphalt and onto the open road. Minseok gives him a disbelieving look that Luhan counters with a sweet smile, quite aware of how much Minseok hates it when he acts like a child.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Minseok sniffs, keeping his eyes locked on the road in front of them. He can just make out the outline of the moon hanging low in the sky in front of them, like a beacon beckoning them forward into the mist.
“Yeah, well, you could at least pretend like we’re not on the run from the law,” Luhan sighs in his normal voice, hand reaching out to land gently on Minseok’s thigh. His fingers burn hot through the fabric.
“I’m the very picture of discretion!” Minseok gasps in an offended tone, slapping a hand to his heart dramatically.
“Yeah, yeah,” Luhan snickers, shoving at Minseok’s thigh before pulling his hand back to rest in his own lap. Minseok can still feel the imprint of his fingers against his skin. “Well, I’m going to take a nap, just wake me up if you want me to drive.”
“Of course,” Minseok says reassuringly, and Luhan gives him a disbelieving look, because he knows Minseok never wakes him up. Minseok blushes slightly, but at least he has the excuse of having to keep his eyes on the road and doesn’t have to look over to see if Luhan’s still staring at him.
It’s only a matter of minutes before Luhan’s soft breathing fills the car, the sound even and steady, reminding Minseok of waves washing up a stretch of sand. Luhan’s always been able to fall asleep anywhere. Minseok pulls his eyes away from Luhan’s face, shining fragile and delicate in the moonlight in ways it never does when he’s awake, and settles for watching the dark road shoot past, trees and fences sliding into a gentle stream of background color-brown and white on black.
And as Minseok presses down a bit harder on the accelerator, eyes flickering over every snowflake that smashes itself against the windshield, he wonders what Luhan thinks about when he drives. He wonders if Luhan ever thinks about what it would feel like to yank the wheel sideways, swerve roughly through all the barriers he’s erected around himself, because at least leaping off an overpass would feel like falling, something almost comforting about the taste of adrenaline in his mouth and the smell of shattered metal and broken glass. Minseok sometimes wonders why he’s so addicted to the promise of pain.
“Come with me,” Luhan says, and he looks so very beautiful and so very sincere that Minseok finds his breath sticking in his throat, his eyes catching on the curve of Luhan’s throat, the outline of his hipbones pressing against the fabric of the tight sweater he’s wearing.
“My parents…” he manages to say, cursing himself for how weak the excuse sounds. Minseok has always been strong, has always been able to take care of himself, to decide what he wants with his life. He’s never been able to count on anyone but himself.
“I don’t care about your parents,” Luhan spits, and now his eyes are angry, fingers glowing ghostly white in the snow-scented darkness as he clenches his hands into fists. “What exactly do you think they’re going to do if you stay here? Do you really think they’re going to let you go back to university some day? That they’re not going to just chain you to the store and then force you to marry some pretty girl you won’t even be able to touch without thinking about me?”
“Maybe you don’t care about them,” Minseok hisses, glad that now his voice is harder, darker, more like Luhan’s. “But I do. They’re my parents, Luhan.”
“And you trust them that much?” Luhan scoffs, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. “You trust them enough to ignore that fact that there’s going to be the store and the girl and there’s never going to be journalism, that there’s never going to be anyone like me.”
“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself,” Minseok says sarcastically, and maybe it’s because the wind is loud in his ears but he doesn’t notice Luhan moving forward until he’s already standing far too close, hands rising to yank Minseok’s chin up until their mouths find each other’s.
And Minseok knows that Luhan is right, that he’ll never be able to survive knowing his future holds only the store, only some girl who will be the farthest thing from Luhan, only the mindless appreciation of his parents, who let him whimper against the glass of the back door until they decided he’d learned his lesson.
“I’m going with you,” Minseok growls against Luhan’s lips, and he can taste the smirk spreading across Luhan’s face.
“What if I don’t want you anymore?” he asks, pulling back but keeping his arms locked around Minseok’s neck.
“Oh, I really think you do,” Minseok says with a grim smile of his own, yanking Luhan back down for another kiss.
When they get to the seedy hotel where they’re going to be spending the night, Luhan immediately throws himself down at the little table in the corner, carefully taking his pistol out of his bag and setting about cleaning every inch of it. The dark metal glows harshly in the sickly yellow light of the bedroom lamp, and Minseok suppresses a shudder. Sometimes he wonders how long it will be before he really gets used to the sight of a gun sitting casually on a tabletop, innards spread everywhere like a gutted fish.
“I’ve been thinking…” Luhan says suddenly, and Minseok groans, sitting down on the spindly chair across from him. When Luhan starts sentences like that, it almost never results in ideas Minseok is particularly fond of.
“We are not going to buy a red Ferrari, Luhan,” Minseok sighs, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head. “It’s way too conspicuous, especially around here. We’ll get caught in five minutes flat.”
“I know that,” Luhan sniffs in a mock-offended tone, continuing to rub a white rag over the many knobs and swirls of metal laid out in front of him. “That was just a spur-of-the-moment suggestion. No, what I was going to say was that I was thinking we should try something different this time.”
“Different…how?” Minseok asks, letting a bit of interest seep into his voice.
“Well,” Luhan says, smiling darkly as he looks up from the gun and meets Minseok’s eyes. “We are in a very small town. Very out-of-the-way. I mean, you saw the police station when we drove past-I doubt they have a dedicated force of more than one or two people.”
“People who live in towns like these don’t need police very often,” Minseok shrugs. He should know, he grew up in a town just like this one. A few miles of icy road makes little difference when it comes to small, grey, hollow places like these.
“What do you say we give them a reason to need police?” Luhan asks, eyes glimmering in the lamplight. “What do you say we try something…bigger?”
“I don’t know,” Minseok says thoughtfully, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “I’m not sure if we’re really prepared for something bigger. For one thing, we’d need more firepower.”
“Oh, come on,” Luhan says, snapping the cylinder back in place and holding up the gun to examine his handiwork. “You underestimate the power of any weapon to frighten people.”
“Well. I guess it depends on what you had in mind,” Minseok says, not sure how he should feel about the glint in Luhan’s eyes.
“Oh, you know,” Luhan says airily, waving a hand. “Nothing too big.”
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Minseok breathes as they walk up to the large building, arm in arm, Luhan looking extremely dashing in a tan trenchcoat and Minseok feeling extremely underdressed in his black jeans and tight grey sweater.
“Oh, don’t worry so much,” Luhan laughs into the frosty evening air. “And you look really hot, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” Minseok mumbles, fighting to keep a blush from spreading across his cheeks as they take the steps up to the front doors two at a time. When they actually reach the doors, however, Luhan pauses.
“I think we can do this,” Luhan says thoughtfully, and if Minseok didn’t know what to look for he might miss the way Luhan’s eyes widen the way they always do when he starts thinking too much. “We won’t hurt anyone.”
“Hey,” Minseok says, nudging him gently in the side with his elbow. “What’s life without a little risk, right? Isn’t that your catchphrase? And we’ll be careful. We always are.”
Luhan doesn’t reply, but the brilliant grin he shoots Minseok’s way is answer enough and then he’s stepping forward, pulling his arm out of Minseok’s grasp to yank open the doors. By the time Minseok steps inside, the bank teller and the few customers waiting in line are already cowering on the ground.
“Is there anyone else around?” Luhan demands, the harshness of the sound dulled by the cinderblock walls. The bank teller shakes his head frantically but Luhan gives Minseok a look and Minseok nods, moving forward down the corridor presumably leading towards the vaults. He can hear Luhan behind him, ordering the teller to give him the keys to the deposit boxes, and Minseok shivers slightly because he really likes Luhan’s voice, especially when it sounds so self-confident, so assured and so mocking.
But then Minseok rounds the corner and tenses when he sees a man standing at the end of the hallway, phone held tightly in his shaking hand as he frantically feeds the last few coins into the machine.
“You’d better drop that,” Minseok says pleasantly, but he knows the gun in his hand makes the implied threat perfectly clear. The man, however, simply gives him an angry look before going right back to punching in numbers, clutching the phone tightly to his ear as if it will protect him from a stray bullet. Lucky for him, Minseok’s always been a good shot.
The man flinches so hard when the gunshot rings out that Minseok feels a bolt of fear stab through him, suddenly worried he may have missed-it’s unlikely, given how close he is, but possible. That would certainly be embarrassing to have to explain to Luhan. But when Minseok takes several more steps forward he sees that his aim was perfect. The man’s still clutching the receiver in his hand, but it’s no longer connected to the box on the wall, cord perfectly severed, small hole in the wall behind them the only sign of what caused the sudden separation.
“Now,” Minseok says smoothly, gun pointed directly at the man’s head. “Maybe you’d like to rethink dropping that?”
The man gulps audibly and lets the receiver drop from his grasp to clatter against the floor.
“You’ll-you’ll never get away with this,” he manages to splutter, slowly raising both hands over his head as Minseok motions for him to start back down the hallway towards the lobby of the bank. “The police will track you down. I know exactly what you look like. I can give them descriptions.”
“Ah, yes, and I’m sure brown hair and black eyes and pale skin are extremely uncommon in this part of the country,” Minseok snorts, prodding the man in the small of his back with the gun to get him to step a bit faster. It works, the man nearly jogging down the hallway in his haste to obey Minseok’s silent request.
“Don’t you have any morals?” the man asks, and Minseok rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s talking so much. “Don’t you have anything you believe in?”
“Sure, I do,” he says, grinning though he knows the man can’t see him. “They’re just a little different from most people’s.”
“Oh, good, you’re back,” Luhan says hurriedly when Minseok re-enters the lobby, pushing the man in front of him over to join the rest of the terrified customers huddling against the back wall. “Help me with him, would you?”
Minseok walks over to see what he’s talking about and freezes when he sees that Luhan’s trying to drag the bank teller’s pale body over to the wall.
“Did you-” he asks hesitantly, but Luhan gives him a dark look and sighs.
“No, he just fainted and god he’s heavy, help me!”
With Minseok’s help, they’re able to heave the teller over to join the small group by the wall, and Minseok isn’t surprised that none of them even check to see if he’s all right. People tend to stop caring about things like compassion when they think they’re going to die, he’s learned. It’s only to be expected.
They’re just grabbing the bags and turning to leave when the man Minseok had cornered speaks up, yelling at their retreating backs.
“Someday, they’re going to catch up with you,” he shouts with a brittle laugh. “And when they do, when they catch you, I hope you go out with a bang. I’ll be waiting to read about it in the papers. I’ll tell everyone I know-Oh Sehun predicted it first! You’ll see.”
Minseok isn’t even sure that Luhan is listening until he stops just short of the door, whirling around so fast Minseok barely has time to jump out of the way.
“Oh Sehun,” he says, and his tone is so cold it almost makes Minseok shiver. “Memorable name. I hope we make the front page.”
And then he’s spinning on his heel, yanking the doors open, and striding out into the chilly night, Minseok following close behind. Minseok is still a little surprised by the outburst as they climb back into the car, Luhan in the passenger seat because Minseok knows he really doesn’t like driving no matter how much he offers, and as a result he’s startled when Luhan leans over and kisses him roughly, hands slipping easily under Minseok’s sweater, sliding over the planes of his chest.
“We did it,” he whispers against Minseok’s lips, and Minseok smiles, pulling back and flooring the accelerator, screech of rubber on slick asphalt satisfyingly loud in the quiet night.
“We did it,” Minseok repeats as they barrel down the town’s main street, windshield clouding with their damp breath. Luhan leans forward, tracing a wobbly outline of a heart in the condensation. This time, when Luhan sticks his head out of the window and yells out into the night, Minseok doesn’t stop him. The moon is bright overhead and the rush of freezing air past his window makes Minseok feel a bit giddy, mind short-circuiting when Luhan turns to him with a smile that Minseok thinks is the perfect description of pure, unadulterated joy.
“That felt so good,” Luhan sighs, wrapping his arms tightly around himself like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t shiver apart with the force of his excitement and his amused disbelief at what they’ve just managed to do.
“I know,” Minseok says, because he does. Because his heart is still racing in his chest and his hands are shaking as they grip the steering wheel and Minseok feels so painfully alive, every inch of his skin vibrating with the sheer excitement of living, of blood pumping through his veins, of neurons sparking as they send a flood of information down his spine.
They don’t say anything more for the hour or so that they’re in the car, headlights illuminating endless miles of snow-drenched fields and stunted trees, but it’s only because some feelings are too heavy to be put into words. When Minseok finally thinks they’re far enough away, finally pulls off the highway into the parking lot of a nameless hotel in a nameless town, taking a key from the bored hand of a nameless attendant, he doesn’t waste any time in shoving Luhan up against the door of their tiny room, pressing burning kisses to his lips, his throat, his collarbones. Luhan writhes under his touch, coming apart so beautifully beneath his fingertips, and maybe Minseok’s always had a thing for people with power but he also has a thing for watching Luhan unravel, words blurring into an unintelligible mixture of sounds as he arches his back, body begging for more when his speech fails him.
There are too many clothes and too few hands but somehow Luhan manages to peel off Minseok’s sweater and then Minseok’s sliding Luhan’s pants down his legs, smirking when he sees that Luhan isn’t wearing any underwear. Luhan doesn’t even bother smirking back, just yanks Minseok’s jeans down unapologetically and kisses him, again and again, until Minseok can’t quite remember where he is. Minseok doesn’t protest when Luhan pushes him backwards, sending him sprawling across the bed, because Luhan’s quick to throw himself down as well, clambering over until he’s practically sitting in Minseok’s lap.
Minseok leans in and kisses him, wet and filthy, because Luhan’s always liked kissing, so much so that sometimes Minseok thinks Luhan likes kissing more than he likes sex. And Luhan kisses back gratefully but he knows what Minseok likes too, and he’s pleased to hear Minseok groan as he wraps his thin fingers around his cock.
“Go on,” Luhan hums playfully, lips sliding down to suck at the vein pulsing in Minseok’s neck. “Tell me how good I am.”
“So fucking good,” Minseok gasps, hips bucking up into Luhan’s loose grip, wordlessly begging him to go faster. And Luhan does, roughly stroking the hot skin, twisting his hand in a way that makes Minseok’s head fall back until it hits the headboard. But just as quickly as he started, he stops, and Minseok drags his head back up to glare at him.
“Fuck me,” Luhan hisses, and he loves the way just the words make Minseok moan, eyes dark and heavy with want.
“Pants,” Minseok breathes, just barely managing to stop himself from whining at the loss of Luhan’s body heat as he slips soundlessly to the floor, returning moments later with a small foil packet clutched in his hand. And then Minseok’s lurching forward, pressing Luhan flat against the mattress, and he isn’t quite sure which of them shudders at the feel of the first finger pressing inside but he knows it’s definitely Luhan who gasps when he presses the second finger in, starting up a steady rhythm.
His other hand reaches out to curl around Luhan’s aching erection, and Luhan moans-a heady sound that makes Minseok feel dizzy even as Luhan twists a hand into his hair, pulling him down for a long kiss and hiccupping harshly when the movement presses Minseok’s fingers even deeper inside of him.
“More,” Luhan whines, and Minseok has never been one to deny Luhan anything he wants. But just as he’s sliding his fingers down Luhan’s thighs, spreading him wider apart, Luhan pulls himself up, forehead nearly colliding with Minseok’s as he shoves him back against the headboard. “Like this.”
Minseok doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the wild, satisfied look in Luhan’s eyes as he sinks down on Minseok’s cock, both of them groaning at the heat and the stretch.
“Fuck, Minseok,” Luhan gasps as Minseok thrusts up into him, and the words melt into a drawn-out moan as Minseok shifts and sinks in even deeper, hitting that spot that makes Luhan shudder violently. But then Luhan is moving, lifting himself up and dropping back down, and Minseok’s world dissolves into a brilliant flash of heat and want and motion.
Later, when they’re stretched out across the scratchy sheets, Luhan’s skin warm against Minseok’s own, Minseok murmurs soft questions into the plane of Luhan’s shoulder, into the curve of his neck. He knows Luhan won’t answer any of them-he never does-but Minseok always tries anyway, never gets tired of trying.
Luhan’s eyes are bright even in the darkness of the room and they glimmer wetly when he blinks, sliding a hand down the line of Minseok’s jaw. Minseok responds by reaching up and curling a loose strand of hair behind Luhan’s ear, breath hitching at the way he looks so vulnerable like this, so soft and desperate and delicate.
“Why do you always ask?” Luhan whispers, warm breath fanning across Minseok’s face. “You know I’m never going to answer.”
“I like the way you look at me when I ask,” Minseok answers honestly, lips twitching upwards into a lazy smile. “And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll tell me.”
“Believe me, it’s not a story you want to hear,” Luhan says, and Minseok doesn’t like the way anger suddenly colors his voice. But then Luhan is smiling, eyes dark and earnest as they meet Minseok’s. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter-now we’re here, just us two. You can be my past and my future. I don’t need any other story. Just ours.”
And Minseok isn’t quite sure how to respond, isn’t quite sure what to do except pull Luhan closer, kissing him softly and sweetly, because he’s fairly certain that this is the closest Luhan’s ever come to saying he loves him.
Minseok is waiting on the porch when Luhan pulls up in a small, beat-up car-dirty, unremarkable, so unlike the person who steps out of the driver’s seat, pinning Minseok in place with his bright smile.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and Minseok turns once to look through the slightly grimy front window of his house. It’s dark inside-both his parents are out-just like it is most days. Minseok is sick of being alone, sick of being afraid.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” he says firmly, and Luhan laughs, reaching down and grabbing his hand to pull him to his feet. Minseok jumps at the unexpected contact but then he remembers that this is the same boy who snuck into his room through the window, who kissed him in the chilly darkness like it was all he’d ever wanted to do.
“Then let’s go,” Luhan says, and this time-the first time-is one of the few times Minseok ends up sitting in the passenger seat. It’s not until they’re tearing down the dusty road leading out of Minseok’s dusty town that Minseok thinks to ask, turning to Luhan and only feeling slightly alarmed when Luhan looks back, not even sparing a glance for the landscape rushing past them.
“What are we going to do?” he asks quickly, as if demanding a briefing before they embark on their mission, and Luhan smiles, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair before dragging his eyes back to the road.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he says thoughtfully, and Minseok rolls his eyes because of course Luhan wouldn’t be sure. “But I do know that if we ever want to get out of places like these we’re going to need some money.”
“And how are we going to get money?” Minseok asks, confused. “What, are we going to just move to another town and take up menial labor or something?”
“Could you get me a bottle of water?” Luhan abruptly asks, shooting Minseok a quick glance. “I’ve got a few in the glove compartment there.”
“Sure,” Minseok says slowly, not quite sure why Luhan’s suddenly changed the subject. But then he’s pressing down on the tab of the glove compartment, pulling it open, and oh.
“So, I had a few ideas about the whole getting-cash thing,” Luhan says conversationally, and when Minseok manages to tear his eyes away from the shiny black metal staring up at him he sees that Luhan is grinning widely.
Minseok slams the glove compartment closed, leaning back against his seat and running a hand through his hair as a disbelieving laugh pushes past his lips. But he feels unexpectedly excited, heart starting to beat just a little faster as he imagines the weight of the gun in his hand, the way it would look to see people cowering on the ground in front of him.
“I think I can live with that,” Minseok replies, giving Luhan a grin of his own as they speed forward into the sun-drenched afternoon.
2
Pairing: Minseok/Luhan
Rating: NC-17
Genre: action, romance, au
Length: 11,000
Summary: Because the road is dark and cold and icy and what fun is it to risk your life alone when you can do it together?
A/N: Title and plot inspiration brought to you by this song (except I am a sucker for happy endings oops), and also my friend for telling me the whole story of Bonnie and Clyde, and finally Wikipedia for including this gem when explaining why their story was so widely followed: “new criminal superstars with the most titillating trademark of all-illicit sex.“ Because if that isn't begging to be made into a fic I don't know what is.
From where Minseok is leaning lazily against the bar he can see snow falling heavily beyond the frosted windowpane.
“Less lounging, more working,” the bartender grunts from behind him, and Minseok sighs lightly before turning and walking back over to one of the few occupied tables, asking the men sitting there if they want another round. They do, of course, because this is the type of tiny town where life looks much better through an alcoholic haze, and they don’t mind that Minseok isn’t exactly the most attentive waiter.
“You’re not doing half bad for your first day,” the bartender says, giving Minseok an appraising glance as he strolls back up to the bar. Minseok grins, all teeth.
“Think you’ll want to hire me full-time?” he asks, and the man just smirks, eyes dragging lower to where Minseok’s dark jeans are stretched tight across his hips.
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” he says. But then the bell above the door tinkles brightly and they both turn to see someone breezing through the door as if pushed by the cold wind howling outside. Minseok shivers, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of the icy gust that rolls past him as the door slams shut or the way the boy seems to glow, eyes glimmering darkly as he saunters over to the bar.
“A shot of your most expensive scotch,” the boy snaps, honey-colored hair soft under the yellow lamplight, almost as soft as the look he shoots in Minseok’s direction when the bartender turns around, flustered by the demand and by the boy’s satiny voice.
Minseok smirks, and Luhan returns the smile before turning away, tossing the alcohol down his throat in one swift motion.
“That’s the stuff,” he gasps, licking his lips. And then he’s pulling back and launching the shot glass at the line of multi-colored bottles stacked along the back of the bar. It slams into a bottle of what Minseok now knows is one of the bar’s better whiskeys, and Minseok barely has time to reach into his apron and pull out the gun hidden in his waistband before Luhan is shouting, sending everyone crumpling to the floor as he waves a pistol about menacingly.
“Get down, go on!” Minseok yells, gun held firmly out in front of him, and the few remaining stragglers hit the ground, crawling under tables and chairs, staring up at him in shock.
“Well?” Luhan says to the shivering bartender, leaning over the bar so he can stare him right in the eye. “I’m waiting.”
“I-I don’t-” the man sputters, face white with fear and confusion, and Luhan sighs in annoyance, ostentatiously cocking his pistol. The man shudders but stops protesting, instead moving quickly over to the cash register, entering a code, and sliding it open. Luhan’s quick to push him out of the way, yanking out wads of bills and shoving them into the backpack he has slung around his shoulders. Minseok’s eyes dart back and forth across the nearly-empty bar, making sure no one tries anything, and he’s glad to hear Luhan’s voice from behind him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he laughs, sound unbearably gorgeous in the dusty heat of the bar, and Minseok grins widely, following him out into the frigid night air. They run, boots crunching over the new-fallen snow, and they’re both out of breath by the time they reach the car, dissolving into fits of giggles. Minseok slides into the driver’s seat and as they speed away into the darkness Luhan throws his arms around Minseok’s neck, presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
“You look good in an apron,” Luhan whispers, breath hot against the curve of Minseok’s ear, and Minseok rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
“Don’t get used to it,” he says with a breathy laugh as Luhan begins to press soft kisses against the column of his neck. “And stop distracting me when I’m driving!”
“Your wish is my command,” Luhan replies smugly, pulling backwards, but he leaves his hand resting on Minseok’s thigh. Luhan rolls down the window, and before Minseok can ask what he’s doing he sticks his head out and screams loudly into the night, sound echoing wildly in the snow. Minseok presses down even harder on the accelerator, ignoring the way it’s getting more and more difficult to see with every passing second, and yanks Luhan back into the car, rolling up his window and laughing at the way Luhan’s cheeks are bright red with cold, eyes glistening and wind-stung. It’s a beautiful night.
“Are you up for an adventure?” Luhan had asked, that first warm night back when he had appeared on Minseok's front porch and Minseok was still too stupid to realize that adventure was all he’d ever wanted.
“What kind of adventure?” Minseok had said in reply, letting Luhan twine their fingers together even though he didn't even know his name yet. For some reason it felt like the right thing to do.
“Why me?” Minseok had asked one time, as they sat propped against the headboard of an uncomfortable, questionably clean hotel bed, and Luhan had gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he had laughed, and Minseok had simply shaken his head because Luhan can never give a straight answer. When he’s drunk it just gets worse.
“If it were I wouldn’t be asking,” Minseok had muttered, turning his eyes back to the flickering television screen, and he’d jumped a little when Luhan reached out a hand and pulled his chin back around so they were facing each other.
“How could it have been anyone but you?” Luhan had whispered against his lips, and Minseok had sighed slightly, relinquishing himself to Luhan’s touches, Luhan’s soft, sweet words. When it comes to that, at least, he knows how to get the answer he wants.
It’s nearly mid-afternoon when they pull up outside a small store set back a little ways from the road, but there’s no one around. The snow lays thick and heavy on the ground, and Luhan shivers when he steps out of the car, breath puffing out of his mouth in a glittering cloud.
“Like dragons,” Minseok says with a lopsided grin, and Luhan’s eyes brighten as he sucks in another deep breath before expelling all the air in his lungs with a drawn-out sigh.
“Like dragons,” he agrees, lips curling upwards. “Let’s get inside, it’s cold out here.”
Minseok almost feels sorry for the old man behind the counter-they’re probably the first people he’s seen in days and they’re threatening to kill him. Luhan always does the shouting bit, and Minseok doesn’t mind. It makes a pleasant heat curl in his stomach to see Luhan ordering people around, to see Luhan being obeyed. So maybe Minseok’s always had a thing for people with power.
When it’s obvious they have nothing to worry about-the tiny store doesn’t even have a bathroom-Minseok leans back against a rack of packaged chips and roasted nuts and folds his arms across his chest, letting Luhan do all the work. The cash register is fortuitously full, probably because the man hasn’t been able to make it to town in all this snow to put the money in the bank.
“Aww, come on, help me out,” Luhan whines, pushing out his lower lip as he continues to stuff handfuls of bills into his satchel. The bearded man on the floor manages to shoot Minseok a curious look before Luhan lifts an arm and points the gun right at him, sending him splaying back across the grimy floor in terror.
“You seem to be doing a good job all by yourself,” Minseok snorts, scratching his head absentmindedly with the butt of his gun.
“My arms are getting tired,” Luhan says, and Minseok groans, lifting his aching body off the snack food rack to slide over to where Luhan is standing, thin fingers smeared with ink and the scent of money.
“You big baby,” Minseok teases as he snatches up the last few clusters of bills and shoves them into his pockets, grabbing the satchel and letting Luhan thread his arm through Minseok’s as they sweep out the door. It slams shut behind them with a satisfying thud.
“You love it,” Luhan smirks, grabbing Minseok’s other arm and spinning him around until they’re facing each other.
“You’re still a baby,” Minseok says, but the rest of his words are muffled by Luhan’s lips as he crashes their mouths together. Luhan tastes like snow and cold, hard cash, and when he licks into Minseok’s mouth his tongue is so hot Minseok feels like he’s melting. Snowflakes settle on their lashes and when Minseok looks up his breath catches at the way Luhan shines, eyes framed by hundreds of tiny glistening rainbows.
“You’re beautiful,” Luhan breathes, amazement heavy in his voice, and Minseok smiles that lopsided smile he knows Luhan loves, reaching up a gentle hand to brush the droplets of water out of Luhan’s eyebrows, his bangs, his eyelashes.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and Luhan smiles, not letting go of his hand until they reach the car still sitting out by the road, waiting patiently for them to return.
“How old are you?” Minseok asks, the second time he finds Luhan sitting on his front porch, and Luhan looks up at him with a grin that makes him look even younger-incredibly mischievous and incredibly endearing.
“Old enough,” he says with an irritatingly wide grin, and Minseok rolls his eyes, sitting down beside him on the rough wooden boards.
“Where do you live?” Minseok asks. “I haven’t seen you around here before. But you seem really familiar. Did you go to university?”
Luhan doesn’t respond to any of Minseok’s questions. He never does. Instead, he cocks his head inquisitively to the side like a tiny bird and asks, “Why aren’t you at university?”
“That’s-” Minseok begins harshly before sighing, running a tired hand through his hair. “I wanted to be a journalist. But my parents decided it’d be better for me to come back here and run the store when my dad hurt his back.”
“You don’t like it here,” Luhan says, and it’s a statement not a question so Minseok doesn’t bother to nod. He hates it here. He hates the way every street looks just the same, hates the way his parent’s words still sound the same as they had when he was a child, forced out into the moon-drenched snow piling up outside the back door because he’d been audacious enough to contradict them.
“What are you doing here?” Minseok asks instead, trying to draw the conversation away from himself, but Luhan just smiles, eyes pulling upwards in a way that makes Minseok’s heart stutter unexpectedly.
“I’m just visiting,” Luhan says, swinging his feet against the step below the one they’re sitting on, the continuous thunk of shoe against wood somehow comforting rather than annoying. “I’ll be leaving soon. You should come with me.”
“I can’t,” Minseok says, and he’s surprised by how much it hurts to say the words.
“We’ll see,” Luhan laughs, and his tone is so bright and cheerful that it’s not until later that night that Minseok realizes how confident those words had sounded, how self-assured and teasing. That night is the first night he dreams of Luhan. He’s standing in the darkness behind the house, skin glowing dimly in the light of the harshly twinkling stars, and Minseok tries to run towards him but the snow is thick and it holds him back, cementing him in place, and when he tries to cry out Luhan disappears. He wakes up covered in sweat, heart racing, and shivers when he realizes that all his blankets have fallen to the floor, leaving him exposed to the chilly air squeezing past his windowframe.
“Turn here,” Luhan says, leaning over Minseok to point at a nondescript road leading up and to their left. Minseok is hesitant, since they’re supposed to be trying to put as many miles between them and the store as possible, but Luhan looks so excited he can’t say no, instead wrenching the wheel sideways just as they pass by. The sudden movement sends Luhan lurching over into his lap, but Minseok can’t say he minds, especially when Luhan takes advantage of his new position to slide his hands up Minseok’s shirt, fingers pressing playfully at the buckle of Minseok’s belt, at the curve of his ribs.
“Where are we going?” Minseok finally manages to ask, slapping Luhan’s hands away before he’s too distracted to make sure they don’t plunge to their death over some snowy cliff. The road is climbing steadily upwards, snaking between snow-laden trees and dark granite boulders, jagged against the smooth, undulating white blanket covering the rest of the ground.
“You’ll see,” Luhan says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Minseok laughs, reaching out a hand to smooth Luhan’s hair back off his forehead. Luhan leans eagerly into the touch and it makes Minseok laugh again, how much Luhan needs physical contact.
“This better be good,” he warns. “If we’re wasting this much time on it. We promised Jongdae we’d meet up with him tonight.”
“Relax, it’s not even that late yet,” Luhan sniffs, and when Minseok checks the small clock on the dashboard he’s surprised to find that Luhan is right. Night comes so early in the winter, it makes Minseok feel like midnight lasts forever. The sun hasn’t quite set by the time they reach the top of the mountain they’ve been winding around for nearly half an hour-bright orange and pink streamers of light stain the ink-dark sky as Luhan gapes at the smooth reddish orb slowly sinking below the horizon.
Minseok gets out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him, and the sound is as loud as a gunshot in the intense evening quiet. By the time he’s strolled over to lean against the still-warm hood, Luhan has bounded out of the passenger seat, reaching over to grab Minseok’s hand and ignoring his halfhearted protests as he pulls him forward. Their shoes crunch delicately on the pale, crusty snow, and Minseok shivers at the cold wind tearing past them. But then they’re coming out of a small stand of trees, cliff edge opening up into wide, empty space, and Minseok gasps, unable to help himself from marveling at the way the ground drops away. The riotously colored sky is so close he feels like he could touch it if he stood on his tiptoes.
“Look,” Luhan whispers breathily, cold fingers twisted tightly in Minseok’s own, and Minseok looks, scene before him blurred slightly as the wind whips sharp puffs of ice into his eyes.
It’s beautiful. From where they’re standing it looks like the whole world is spread out before them-all warm yellow light and glistening snow and dark winding roads. Minseok can see the stoplights of the city below changing color and it’s only after they’ve gone red then green then red again that he realizes he hasn’t been breathing and gasps in a shuddering gulp of air.
“This is amazing,” he says, and he loves the way Luhan smiles at him, eyes blindingly bright in the light from the setting sun.
“Imagine if we were birds, Minseok,” Luhan says, gripping Minseok’s hand even tighter, every muscle in his body poised as if preparing for flight. “Wouldn’t you like to just throw yourself off this cliff, knowing the wind would catch you, knowing you’d be able to soar above all this?”
“I think I’d be afraid to do that even if I did have wings,” Minseok laughs, reaching up his other hand to fiddle with a few unruly strands of hair that keep catching in Luhan’s eyelashes.
“If you weren’t here, I’d do it now,” Luhan says with a brilliant grin that makes it impossible for Minseok to tell if he’s exaggerating. “I think the wind would catch me, too.”
“Always such a big opinion of your importance in the universe,” Minseok sighs, leaning his head on Luhan’s shoulder. “You’re not that light.”
“You would know,” Luhan snorts, sticking out his tongue in a way Minseok finds both ridiculously endearing and annoyingly childish. “I know I’m right.”
And before Minseok can come up with a response, before he can ask Luhan if he really thinks about flying, about throwing himself off of high places just to see what would happen to the fleshy mass that is his body, Luhan is sliding his hand out of Minseok’s grasp and bounding back over to the car. He jumps inside, motioning to Minseok through the glass, and Minseok smiles tiredly before trudging back through the small thicket, throwing himself into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed.
“Heat, heat, heat on now,” Luhan huffs, rubbing his hands together dramatically, and it makes Minseok laugh. As he pulls the car back onto the road, checking once, twice, three times to make sure there’s no one whipping around the curve behind them, he’s careful not to look in the rearview mirror where the cliff edge can still be seen receding into the distance. He’s always been just a little afraid of heights.
When they finally pull up in front of the bar, the moon is shining full and bright in the dark sky and they’re only a little late.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Jongdae laughs good-naturedly, slapping Minseok on the back and slinging an arm around Luhan’s shoulders. Luhan leans into the touch and Minseok smirks because Luhan’s always so touchy when he’s excited.
“We had to make an important stop,” Luhan sniffs, gazing innocently up into Jongdae’s warm eyes. Jongdae snorts, raising an eyebrow suggestively as he looks Minseok up and down. Minseok can’t stop himself from self-consciously reaching up a hand to fix his hair before Luhan laughs, sound bright in the dim room. The bar is fairly crowded, probably because it’s a weekend and Jongdae’s done a good job rebranding the place as somewhere for the young and reckless to come to forget the rest of the world.
“So I take it you’ve been doing well?” Jongdae asks, eyeing their large bags, and Luhan smiles at him, blinking sweetly the way he does when he’s trying to look cute.
“Excellently,” Luhan breathes, right in Jongdae’s ear, and Minseok smiles lazily at the way Jongdae jerks sideways, surprised at the sudden warmth. After spending so much time in confined spaces with Luhan, Minseok’s come to realize that his need for closeness probably stems from some sort of desire to invade other people’s personal space and make them uncomfortable.
They head towards the door at the back of the bar, Jongdae bowing obsequiously as he ushers the two of them inside, and Luhan pulls Minseok forward before he can protest. They collapse onto the spindly old sofa Jongdae keeps there-just for them, he says, since he doesn’t really deal with any other two-person teams-and Minseok coughs at the dust that rises in clouds around their heads.
“Think you could look into getting this sofa cleaned?” Minseok asks, hand covering his mouth as he tries not to breathe in any more dirt. Jongdae shrugs, flicking on a sputtering overhead light, and grabs the bags from where Luhan’s thrown them onto the table in front of them. Minseok is always impressed by the way he handles the money with so much propriety-casually pulling out handfuls of bills and beginning to sort them quickly and efficiently.
“Everything’s been going into remodeling the bar,” Jongdae says with a grin. “And besides, just think of how little character that sofa would have if I cleaned it. Right now, it’s an antique! You don’t mess with antiques.”
“What, can’t handle a little dust?” Luhan asks, tracing a thin finger along the line of Minseok’s jaw and Minseok gives him a look. Luhan’s lips twitch upwards as he meets Minseok’s eyes, playfully grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for a quick kiss.
“Really?” Jongdae asks, pausing for a moment to glare at them. “While I’m working?”
“Oh, you prude,” Luhan smirks, yanking on Minseok’s neck until their cheeks are pressed together. “It was just a kiss. We’re not exactly having sex in front of you.”
“Though I bet you’d love to do that, you little exhibitionist,” Jongdae laughs, and Luhan pouts so convincingly Minseok can’t stop himself from running a hand through Luhan’s hair, wrapping his arms around Luhan’s waist and pulling until Luhan’s back is curled against his chest. As he buries his face in Luhan’s shoulder, breathing in his warm, faintly sweet scent, Minseok smiles. Just a kiss.
“Just a kiss,” Luhan says, and Minseok has nowhere to go, the wall of his bedroom hard and cold against his back.
“I don’t-I can’t-” he gasps, eyes flicking all around the room as if searching for an escape route. If only he were more sure that he wants to escape.
“Minseok,” Luhan whispers, and finally Minseok gathers up the courage to look him straight in the eye.
It’s a mistake.
Luhan’s eyes are wide and deep and Minseok doesn’t realize he’s falling until it’s too late, until he can’t even see the ground rising up to meet him because everything is so dark. Luhan smiles, like he knows exactly what Minseok is thinking, and he moves even closer until they’re pressed flush against each other, bodies touching from chest to knee. Minseok gasps unconsciously at the sudden heat, and it just makes Luhan’s smile brighter.
“Just a kiss,” he says again, and Minseok wishes he’d never looked into those eyes because now every thought he had about why this was a bad idea, every argument he’d used to convince himself that this was wrong, that this wasn’t what he wanted, is gone, swept away in the current of the moonlight spilling in through the open window.
“I-” Minseok manages to stutter before clamping his mouth shut, unsure what exactly he even wants to say.
“If you don’t like it,” Luhan says, hands coming up to rest on Minseok’s shoulders, “then I’ll go. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again. Okay?”
And Minseok knows he should say no, knows he should order Luhan out of his house right now, knows he should push Luhan away, send him sprawling across the floor. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets his hands settle on Luhan’s hips, fingers tightening against the soft, creamy skin. Luhan lets out a breathy gasp that makes Minseok shudder, and suddenly all he wants is to hear Luhan make that noise again, to see his eyes go black and glossy as he stares at Minseok like he’s the only person left in the entire world.
“Okay,” Minseok whispers. “Okay, okay, please-”
But luckily Luhan doesn’t wait for him to finish and Minseok’s half-formed thoughts are swallowed up in the taste of Luhan’s lips, the smooth press of them against Minseok’s own. Minseok has never kissed anyone, has never had anyone want to kiss him before, but as Luhan’s tongue slides over Minseok’s slightly parted lips before slipping into his mouth, he feels a pang of loss for everything he’s been missing out on. Although, Minseok has a sneaking suspicion that kissing Luhan is much better than kissing anyone else could ever be, and so he gives himself up to the sensations flooding his body-skin on fire beneath Luhan’s fingers, mind whirling towards incoherence as he feels the press of Luhan’s cock against his thigh.
And Minseok knows Luhan can feel him too, it’d be impossible for him not to with the way they’re pressed so close, but he loves the way Luhan doesn’t move, doesn’t try to do anything more than reach up a hand to turn Minseok’s head and slot their mouths more tightly together.
Just a kiss. Just like he’d promised. Minseok has a thing for people who keep their promises.
“Okay, so this is a little bit more than last time, but it shouldn’t be any problem,” Jongdae says in his typical businessman voice, coolly sliding a hand over the neat stacks of bills in front of him.
“I assume your fee hasn’t changed much,” Luhan says wryly, and Jongdae looks up, rolling his eyes at the way they’re twined together, Minseok’s head on Luhan’s shoulder and Minseok’s arms around Luhan’s waist.
“Well, I could really used some extra cash to install a light-up dance floor,” Jongdae says musingly, pressing a finger to his lips, but when he sees Luhan’s eyes narrow he laughs, standing up and brushing dust off his jeans.
“For you two, anything,” is what he says, giving them a fond smile as the three of them set about packing the bills into his special compartmentalized briefcase. It doesn’t take long, and soon Jongdae is straightening up, sliding the briefcase into a strange hole in the floor that opens up beneath the sofa they’ve just abandoned before walking over to the door and showing them back out into the lights and sounds of the bar. Jongdae’s always been a bit of a romantic, and he’s always had a soft spot for them. Minseok’s grateful, especially if it means they don’t have to do all the legwork themselves with the offshore accounts and the no-questions-asked enormous cash deposits.
“Planning on staying in town a while?” Jongdae asks, stepping behind the bar and sliding them each a beer. Luhan opens his gratefully, gulping down the amber liquid, but Minseok simply holds his, letting beads of condensation roll down his fingers.
“We should probably get going,” Minseok says, and he’s careful not to look at the annoyed frown Luhan is giving him. “We still have a ways to go before we reach the place we’re spending the night.”
“You know you’re always welcome to stay here,” Jongdae says, a bit eagerly, and Minseok’s smile falters because he knows how lonely Jongdae gets sometimes, out here in the snow and the cold and the dark city streets. “The loft’s not bad at all, and it’s very discreet. If you didn’t work here you wouldn’t even guess that it exists, especially not from the outside.”
“Minseok,” Luhan whines, and maybe Minseok is just weak but he can’t stop his eyes from being drawn to Luhan’s lips, turned downwards into a frown. “Please?”
“Some other time, Jongdae,” Minseok says with a careful smile, and Jongdae gives him an easy grin in response, waving them off towards the door.
“You’re right, you lovebirds should probably keep moving,” he laughs. “And I wouldn’t want anyone…unsavory…showing up to wreck my fine establishment anyway.”
“We’re still not drug dealers,” Minseok snorts as he wraps a hand around Luhan’s wrist and pulls him towards the door.
“Sure!” he hears Jongdae yell disbelievingly after them before the door slams shut and they’re left out in the blurry whiteness of the night.
“How come we never do what I want to do?” Luhan asks as they climb into the car and Minseok peels them slowly off the snow-dotted asphalt and onto the open road. Minseok gives him a disbelieving look that Luhan counters with a sweet smile, quite aware of how much Minseok hates it when he acts like a child.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Minseok sniffs, keeping his eyes locked on the road in front of them. He can just make out the outline of the moon hanging low in the sky in front of them, like a beacon beckoning them forward into the mist.
“Yeah, well, you could at least pretend like we’re not on the run from the law,” Luhan sighs in his normal voice, hand reaching out to land gently on Minseok’s thigh. His fingers burn hot through the fabric.
“I’m the very picture of discretion!” Minseok gasps in an offended tone, slapping a hand to his heart dramatically.
“Yeah, yeah,” Luhan snickers, shoving at Minseok’s thigh before pulling his hand back to rest in his own lap. Minseok can still feel the imprint of his fingers against his skin. “Well, I’m going to take a nap, just wake me up if you want me to drive.”
“Of course,” Minseok says reassuringly, and Luhan gives him a disbelieving look, because he knows Minseok never wakes him up. Minseok blushes slightly, but at least he has the excuse of having to keep his eyes on the road and doesn’t have to look over to see if Luhan’s still staring at him.
It’s only a matter of minutes before Luhan’s soft breathing fills the car, the sound even and steady, reminding Minseok of waves washing up a stretch of sand. Luhan’s always been able to fall asleep anywhere. Minseok pulls his eyes away from Luhan’s face, shining fragile and delicate in the moonlight in ways it never does when he’s awake, and settles for watching the dark road shoot past, trees and fences sliding into a gentle stream of background color-brown and white on black.
And as Minseok presses down a bit harder on the accelerator, eyes flickering over every snowflake that smashes itself against the windshield, he wonders what Luhan thinks about when he drives. He wonders if Luhan ever thinks about what it would feel like to yank the wheel sideways, swerve roughly through all the barriers he’s erected around himself, because at least leaping off an overpass would feel like falling, something almost comforting about the taste of adrenaline in his mouth and the smell of shattered metal and broken glass. Minseok sometimes wonders why he’s so addicted to the promise of pain.
“Come with me,” Luhan says, and he looks so very beautiful and so very sincere that Minseok finds his breath sticking in his throat, his eyes catching on the curve of Luhan’s throat, the outline of his hipbones pressing against the fabric of the tight sweater he’s wearing.
“My parents…” he manages to say, cursing himself for how weak the excuse sounds. Minseok has always been strong, has always been able to take care of himself, to decide what he wants with his life. He’s never been able to count on anyone but himself.
“I don’t care about your parents,” Luhan spits, and now his eyes are angry, fingers glowing ghostly white in the snow-scented darkness as he clenches his hands into fists. “What exactly do you think they’re going to do if you stay here? Do you really think they’re going to let you go back to university some day? That they’re not going to just chain you to the store and then force you to marry some pretty girl you won’t even be able to touch without thinking about me?”
“Maybe you don’t care about them,” Minseok hisses, glad that now his voice is harder, darker, more like Luhan’s. “But I do. They’re my parents, Luhan.”
“And you trust them that much?” Luhan scoffs, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. “You trust them enough to ignore that fact that there’s going to be the store and the girl and there’s never going to be journalism, that there’s never going to be anyone like me.”
“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself,” Minseok says sarcastically, and maybe it’s because the wind is loud in his ears but he doesn’t notice Luhan moving forward until he’s already standing far too close, hands rising to yank Minseok’s chin up until their mouths find each other’s.
And Minseok knows that Luhan is right, that he’ll never be able to survive knowing his future holds only the store, only some girl who will be the farthest thing from Luhan, only the mindless appreciation of his parents, who let him whimper against the glass of the back door until they decided he’d learned his lesson.
“I’m going with you,” Minseok growls against Luhan’s lips, and he can taste the smirk spreading across Luhan’s face.
“What if I don’t want you anymore?” he asks, pulling back but keeping his arms locked around Minseok’s neck.
“Oh, I really think you do,” Minseok says with a grim smile of his own, yanking Luhan back down for another kiss.
When they get to the seedy hotel where they’re going to be spending the night, Luhan immediately throws himself down at the little table in the corner, carefully taking his pistol out of his bag and setting about cleaning every inch of it. The dark metal glows harshly in the sickly yellow light of the bedroom lamp, and Minseok suppresses a shudder. Sometimes he wonders how long it will be before he really gets used to the sight of a gun sitting casually on a tabletop, innards spread everywhere like a gutted fish.
“I’ve been thinking…” Luhan says suddenly, and Minseok groans, sitting down on the spindly chair across from him. When Luhan starts sentences like that, it almost never results in ideas Minseok is particularly fond of.
“We are not going to buy a red Ferrari, Luhan,” Minseok sighs, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head. “It’s way too conspicuous, especially around here. We’ll get caught in five minutes flat.”
“I know that,” Luhan sniffs in a mock-offended tone, continuing to rub a white rag over the many knobs and swirls of metal laid out in front of him. “That was just a spur-of-the-moment suggestion. No, what I was going to say was that I was thinking we should try something different this time.”
“Different…how?” Minseok asks, letting a bit of interest seep into his voice.
“Well,” Luhan says, smiling darkly as he looks up from the gun and meets Minseok’s eyes. “We are in a very small town. Very out-of-the-way. I mean, you saw the police station when we drove past-I doubt they have a dedicated force of more than one or two people.”
“People who live in towns like these don’t need police very often,” Minseok shrugs. He should know, he grew up in a town just like this one. A few miles of icy road makes little difference when it comes to small, grey, hollow places like these.
“What do you say we give them a reason to need police?” Luhan asks, eyes glimmering in the lamplight. “What do you say we try something…bigger?”
“I don’t know,” Minseok says thoughtfully, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “I’m not sure if we’re really prepared for something bigger. For one thing, we’d need more firepower.”
“Oh, come on,” Luhan says, snapping the cylinder back in place and holding up the gun to examine his handiwork. “You underestimate the power of any weapon to frighten people.”
“Well. I guess it depends on what you had in mind,” Minseok says, not sure how he should feel about the glint in Luhan’s eyes.
“Oh, you know,” Luhan says airily, waving a hand. “Nothing too big.”
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Minseok breathes as they walk up to the large building, arm in arm, Luhan looking extremely dashing in a tan trenchcoat and Minseok feeling extremely underdressed in his black jeans and tight grey sweater.
“Oh, don’t worry so much,” Luhan laughs into the frosty evening air. “And you look really hot, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” Minseok mumbles, fighting to keep a blush from spreading across his cheeks as they take the steps up to the front doors two at a time. When they actually reach the doors, however, Luhan pauses.
“I think we can do this,” Luhan says thoughtfully, and if Minseok didn’t know what to look for he might miss the way Luhan’s eyes widen the way they always do when he starts thinking too much. “We won’t hurt anyone.”
“Hey,” Minseok says, nudging him gently in the side with his elbow. “What’s life without a little risk, right? Isn’t that your catchphrase? And we’ll be careful. We always are.”
Luhan doesn’t reply, but the brilliant grin he shoots Minseok’s way is answer enough and then he’s stepping forward, pulling his arm out of Minseok’s grasp to yank open the doors. By the time Minseok steps inside, the bank teller and the few customers waiting in line are already cowering on the ground.
“Is there anyone else around?” Luhan demands, the harshness of the sound dulled by the cinderblock walls. The bank teller shakes his head frantically but Luhan gives Minseok a look and Minseok nods, moving forward down the corridor presumably leading towards the vaults. He can hear Luhan behind him, ordering the teller to give him the keys to the deposit boxes, and Minseok shivers slightly because he really likes Luhan’s voice, especially when it sounds so self-confident, so assured and so mocking.
But then Minseok rounds the corner and tenses when he sees a man standing at the end of the hallway, phone held tightly in his shaking hand as he frantically feeds the last few coins into the machine.
“You’d better drop that,” Minseok says pleasantly, but he knows the gun in his hand makes the implied threat perfectly clear. The man, however, simply gives him an angry look before going right back to punching in numbers, clutching the phone tightly to his ear as if it will protect him from a stray bullet. Lucky for him, Minseok’s always been a good shot.
The man flinches so hard when the gunshot rings out that Minseok feels a bolt of fear stab through him, suddenly worried he may have missed-it’s unlikely, given how close he is, but possible. That would certainly be embarrassing to have to explain to Luhan. But when Minseok takes several more steps forward he sees that his aim was perfect. The man’s still clutching the receiver in his hand, but it’s no longer connected to the box on the wall, cord perfectly severed, small hole in the wall behind them the only sign of what caused the sudden separation.
“Now,” Minseok says smoothly, gun pointed directly at the man’s head. “Maybe you’d like to rethink dropping that?”
The man gulps audibly and lets the receiver drop from his grasp to clatter against the floor.
“You’ll-you’ll never get away with this,” he manages to splutter, slowly raising both hands over his head as Minseok motions for him to start back down the hallway towards the lobby of the bank. “The police will track you down. I know exactly what you look like. I can give them descriptions.”
“Ah, yes, and I’m sure brown hair and black eyes and pale skin are extremely uncommon in this part of the country,” Minseok snorts, prodding the man in the small of his back with the gun to get him to step a bit faster. It works, the man nearly jogging down the hallway in his haste to obey Minseok’s silent request.
“Don’t you have any morals?” the man asks, and Minseok rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s talking so much. “Don’t you have anything you believe in?”
“Sure, I do,” he says, grinning though he knows the man can’t see him. “They’re just a little different from most people’s.”
“Oh, good, you’re back,” Luhan says hurriedly when Minseok re-enters the lobby, pushing the man in front of him over to join the rest of the terrified customers huddling against the back wall. “Help me with him, would you?”
Minseok walks over to see what he’s talking about and freezes when he sees that Luhan’s trying to drag the bank teller’s pale body over to the wall.
“Did you-” he asks hesitantly, but Luhan gives him a dark look and sighs.
“No, he just fainted and god he’s heavy, help me!”
With Minseok’s help, they’re able to heave the teller over to join the small group by the wall, and Minseok isn’t surprised that none of them even check to see if he’s all right. People tend to stop caring about things like compassion when they think they’re going to die, he’s learned. It’s only to be expected.
They’re just grabbing the bags and turning to leave when the man Minseok had cornered speaks up, yelling at their retreating backs.
“Someday, they’re going to catch up with you,” he shouts with a brittle laugh. “And when they do, when they catch you, I hope you go out with a bang. I’ll be waiting to read about it in the papers. I’ll tell everyone I know-Oh Sehun predicted it first! You’ll see.”
Minseok isn’t even sure that Luhan is listening until he stops just short of the door, whirling around so fast Minseok barely has time to jump out of the way.
“Oh Sehun,” he says, and his tone is so cold it almost makes Minseok shiver. “Memorable name. I hope we make the front page.”
And then he’s spinning on his heel, yanking the doors open, and striding out into the chilly night, Minseok following close behind. Minseok is still a little surprised by the outburst as they climb back into the car, Luhan in the passenger seat because Minseok knows he really doesn’t like driving no matter how much he offers, and as a result he’s startled when Luhan leans over and kisses him roughly, hands slipping easily under Minseok’s sweater, sliding over the planes of his chest.
“We did it,” he whispers against Minseok’s lips, and Minseok smiles, pulling back and flooring the accelerator, screech of rubber on slick asphalt satisfyingly loud in the quiet night.
“We did it,” Minseok repeats as they barrel down the town’s main street, windshield clouding with their damp breath. Luhan leans forward, tracing a wobbly outline of a heart in the condensation. This time, when Luhan sticks his head out of the window and yells out into the night, Minseok doesn’t stop him. The moon is bright overhead and the rush of freezing air past his window makes Minseok feel a bit giddy, mind short-circuiting when Luhan turns to him with a smile that Minseok thinks is the perfect description of pure, unadulterated joy.
“That felt so good,” Luhan sighs, wrapping his arms tightly around himself like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t shiver apart with the force of his excitement and his amused disbelief at what they’ve just managed to do.
“I know,” Minseok says, because he does. Because his heart is still racing in his chest and his hands are shaking as they grip the steering wheel and Minseok feels so painfully alive, every inch of his skin vibrating with the sheer excitement of living, of blood pumping through his veins, of neurons sparking as they send a flood of information down his spine.
They don’t say anything more for the hour or so that they’re in the car, headlights illuminating endless miles of snow-drenched fields and stunted trees, but it’s only because some feelings are too heavy to be put into words. When Minseok finally thinks they’re far enough away, finally pulls off the highway into the parking lot of a nameless hotel in a nameless town, taking a key from the bored hand of a nameless attendant, he doesn’t waste any time in shoving Luhan up against the door of their tiny room, pressing burning kisses to his lips, his throat, his collarbones. Luhan writhes under his touch, coming apart so beautifully beneath his fingertips, and maybe Minseok’s always had a thing for people with power but he also has a thing for watching Luhan unravel, words blurring into an unintelligible mixture of sounds as he arches his back, body begging for more when his speech fails him.
There are too many clothes and too few hands but somehow Luhan manages to peel off Minseok’s sweater and then Minseok’s sliding Luhan’s pants down his legs, smirking when he sees that Luhan isn’t wearing any underwear. Luhan doesn’t even bother smirking back, just yanks Minseok’s jeans down unapologetically and kisses him, again and again, until Minseok can’t quite remember where he is. Minseok doesn’t protest when Luhan pushes him backwards, sending him sprawling across the bed, because Luhan’s quick to throw himself down as well, clambering over until he’s practically sitting in Minseok’s lap.
Minseok leans in and kisses him, wet and filthy, because Luhan’s always liked kissing, so much so that sometimes Minseok thinks Luhan likes kissing more than he likes sex. And Luhan kisses back gratefully but he knows what Minseok likes too, and he’s pleased to hear Minseok groan as he wraps his thin fingers around his cock.
“Go on,” Luhan hums playfully, lips sliding down to suck at the vein pulsing in Minseok’s neck. “Tell me how good I am.”
“So fucking good,” Minseok gasps, hips bucking up into Luhan’s loose grip, wordlessly begging him to go faster. And Luhan does, roughly stroking the hot skin, twisting his hand in a way that makes Minseok’s head fall back until it hits the headboard. But just as quickly as he started, he stops, and Minseok drags his head back up to glare at him.
“Fuck me,” Luhan hisses, and he loves the way just the words make Minseok moan, eyes dark and heavy with want.
“Pants,” Minseok breathes, just barely managing to stop himself from whining at the loss of Luhan’s body heat as he slips soundlessly to the floor, returning moments later with a small foil packet clutched in his hand. And then Minseok’s lurching forward, pressing Luhan flat against the mattress, and he isn’t quite sure which of them shudders at the feel of the first finger pressing inside but he knows it’s definitely Luhan who gasps when he presses the second finger in, starting up a steady rhythm.
His other hand reaches out to curl around Luhan’s aching erection, and Luhan moans-a heady sound that makes Minseok feel dizzy even as Luhan twists a hand into his hair, pulling him down for a long kiss and hiccupping harshly when the movement presses Minseok’s fingers even deeper inside of him.
“More,” Luhan whines, and Minseok has never been one to deny Luhan anything he wants. But just as he’s sliding his fingers down Luhan’s thighs, spreading him wider apart, Luhan pulls himself up, forehead nearly colliding with Minseok’s as he shoves him back against the headboard. “Like this.”
Minseok doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the wild, satisfied look in Luhan’s eyes as he sinks down on Minseok’s cock, both of them groaning at the heat and the stretch.
“Fuck, Minseok,” Luhan gasps as Minseok thrusts up into him, and the words melt into a drawn-out moan as Minseok shifts and sinks in even deeper, hitting that spot that makes Luhan shudder violently. But then Luhan is moving, lifting himself up and dropping back down, and Minseok’s world dissolves into a brilliant flash of heat and want and motion.
Later, when they’re stretched out across the scratchy sheets, Luhan’s skin warm against Minseok’s own, Minseok murmurs soft questions into the plane of Luhan’s shoulder, into the curve of his neck. He knows Luhan won’t answer any of them-he never does-but Minseok always tries anyway, never gets tired of trying.
Luhan’s eyes are bright even in the darkness of the room and they glimmer wetly when he blinks, sliding a hand down the line of Minseok’s jaw. Minseok responds by reaching up and curling a loose strand of hair behind Luhan’s ear, breath hitching at the way he looks so vulnerable like this, so soft and desperate and delicate.
“Why do you always ask?” Luhan whispers, warm breath fanning across Minseok’s face. “You know I’m never going to answer.”
“I like the way you look at me when I ask,” Minseok answers honestly, lips twitching upwards into a lazy smile. “And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll tell me.”
“Believe me, it’s not a story you want to hear,” Luhan says, and Minseok doesn’t like the way anger suddenly colors his voice. But then Luhan is smiling, eyes dark and earnest as they meet Minseok’s. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter-now we’re here, just us two. You can be my past and my future. I don’t need any other story. Just ours.”
And Minseok isn’t quite sure how to respond, isn’t quite sure what to do except pull Luhan closer, kissing him softly and sweetly, because he’s fairly certain that this is the closest Luhan’s ever come to saying he loves him.
Minseok is waiting on the porch when Luhan pulls up in a small, beat-up car-dirty, unremarkable, so unlike the person who steps out of the driver’s seat, pinning Minseok in place with his bright smile.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and Minseok turns once to look through the slightly grimy front window of his house. It’s dark inside-both his parents are out-just like it is most days. Minseok is sick of being alone, sick of being afraid.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” he says firmly, and Luhan laughs, reaching down and grabbing his hand to pull him to his feet. Minseok jumps at the unexpected contact but then he remembers that this is the same boy who snuck into his room through the window, who kissed him in the chilly darkness like it was all he’d ever wanted to do.
“Then let’s go,” Luhan says, and this time-the first time-is one of the few times Minseok ends up sitting in the passenger seat. It’s not until they’re tearing down the dusty road leading out of Minseok’s dusty town that Minseok thinks to ask, turning to Luhan and only feeling slightly alarmed when Luhan looks back, not even sparing a glance for the landscape rushing past them.
“What are we going to do?” he asks quickly, as if demanding a briefing before they embark on their mission, and Luhan smiles, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair before dragging his eyes back to the road.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he says thoughtfully, and Minseok rolls his eyes because of course Luhan wouldn’t be sure. “But I do know that if we ever want to get out of places like these we’re going to need some money.”
“And how are we going to get money?” Minseok asks, confused. “What, are we going to just move to another town and take up menial labor or something?”
“Could you get me a bottle of water?” Luhan abruptly asks, shooting Minseok a quick glance. “I’ve got a few in the glove compartment there.”
“Sure,” Minseok says slowly, not quite sure why Luhan’s suddenly changed the subject. But then he’s pressing down on the tab of the glove compartment, pulling it open, and oh.
“So, I had a few ideas about the whole getting-cash thing,” Luhan says conversationally, and when Minseok manages to tear his eyes away from the shiny black metal staring up at him he sees that Luhan is grinning widely.
Minseok slams the glove compartment closed, leaning back against his seat and running a hand through his hair as a disbelieving laugh pushes past his lips. But he feels unexpectedly excited, heart starting to beat just a little faster as he imagines the weight of the gun in his hand, the way it would look to see people cowering on the ground in front of him.
“I think I can live with that,” Minseok replies, giving Luhan a grin of his own as they speed forward into the sun-drenched afternoon.
2