#22 [SHINee, Minho/Taemin]
Fandom: SHINee
Title: Call In Well, Call In Love
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Minho/Taemin
Length: 2,725 words
Summary: Taemin has a lot of things to do. Minho makes a way on how he can be part of it.
Notes: I am not sure if this is fluffy enough for justangel-nim but I hope you like this!
Remixee author: justangel
Title of work you're considering remixing: Inevitable, Eventual
Link to work you're considering remixing: http://jardin-interdit.livejournal.com/906.html
Taemin never actually dreads tomorrows. He loves waking up to beautiful mornings, sometimes warm, sometimes cold. He enjoys it slow and still, the cliches of sunrise, fresh dew on grass, the soft choir of birds as the mist begins to clear. He likes the warm hug he wakes up to, an arm around his waist which somehow pins him on the comfort of his bed. He likes seeing Minho at the start of the day, staring at the gentleness of his face in his sleep.
But right now, he misses all of it. He dislikes, if not hate, how fast tomorrows happen. He misses how he hardly gets sleep, or if he manages to find time to do so, he begins to think of things that should be left in the royal court or in his office. He dislikes how he no longer spends his mornings with Minho and his soft hugs and kisses, their perfect pancakes and hot chocolate breakfast; instead he gets papers and meetings at the first sunlight, the smell of strong coffee almost suffocating, the first half of the day without the sight of his man.
Taemin remembers how excited he was on the day he was crowned as the new king three years ago, Minho on his side, smiling proudly at him. He likes it. He likes seeing Minho by his side. He liked how tight and warm his hand was when he first held it in the balcony, on the day of his proclamation as the new king. But then, three years after, Taemin misses those hands, those reassuring smiles, those proud eyes that tell him no matter how harsh the life of a king would be, Minho is there.
It’s been three weeks since Taemin began dealing with the first problem of his kingdom for the year. An invasion spree of the northern kingdoms has led to a series of closure of trade routes. Although the impact is still minimal in the south (where they are), Taemin of course has to make sure the kingdom will not fall. It’s a big task with so much pressure. He is the king and the people trust him to keep the country intact, safe, and still living; but obviously, it’s never an easy job.
Minho, being the highest minister of the court, of course has to be present in all of the court meetings. And although they see each other almost everyday, High Minister Minho and His Majesty Taemin is a different story from just plain Minho and Taemin.
“You need to rest, Your Majesty,” Minho once says during a ministerial meeting break. Taemin looks at him with raised eyebrows and tensed body. When he realizes it’s Minho, he quickly loosens and tries to pull a smile.
Minho laughs. “Go grab some lunch,” he leans and whispers, eyes moving to both sides, making sure no one is around to see him speak informally to the king. He leans a little more closer and plants a peck on Taemin’s cheeks. When no one sees him, he immediately straightens and clears his throat. “I will be back, your majesty,” he says.
Taemin blinks and watches as Minho walks out of the hall, a hand slowly creeping up his face. Then he giggles. Well, nothing’s wrong with taking a more-than-friendly advice.
The day carries on with a lot more stress than what the whole ministry has expected. The issues that have arisen from the meeting doubled and he nearly curses the heavens for giving him such a kingdom in crisis.
“Your Highness, the meeting tomorrow-”
“I apologize for the interruption, your excellency,” Minho interrupts one of the ministers, slightly bowing at him. “I think it is necessary to give the members of the Court enough time to come up with their recommendations for all the matters that have arisen from this meeting. Hence, I suggest that we have the next meeting two days from now.”
Not that he does not agree with him but Taemin knows Minho is doing this on purpose. He stares at him, silently giving him the what-are-you-doing look. Minho smiles, slightly tilts his head and raises a brow and Taemin discerns his message: “If you argue, I have counter-arguments. And you are too tired to actually be coherent so just say yes and everything will be okay.”
Taemin sighs. “Okay then. The Court shall convene again two days from now at exactly ten in the morning.”
There is a grin of success that immediately forms on Minho’s face. Taemin smiles and mouths “Thank you.”
The next day comes and Taemin forgets that it’s his first day off so when he feels the warmth of sunlight on his face, he basically flips on the bed and screams “I AM LATE!” as he falls on one side with a loud bam.
“Oh god,” Taemin groans, lying on his back, a hand rubbing his forehead when it hit the edge of a side table. He lazily pushes himself up, one hand grabbing the blankets. But he is too sleepy to actually sit properly so with eyes closed, he places his chin on top of the mattress and prays that it will support him up only to fail. He fully wakes up though when a loud laughter echoes in his room, too loud that he finds himself sitting on the floor, back straight, wide eyes and staring at the sofa across his bed.
“Oh my god look at you,” Minho says in between laughter, one hand tightly holding his stomach as he curl on the seat. “Jesus that’s the cutest thing I’ve seen in my whole life please do it again oh my god.”
Taemin successfully goes back to his bed and sits on it. He rubs his eyes and hisses, followed by a pout. “I hate you,” he says.
Minho’s laughter dies down soon and when he finally calms down, he walks toward the bed and sits next to Taemin. His fingers reach for the younger’s forehead, fixing the messy fringe. He then takes Taemin’s hand.
“Stop rubbing your eyes,” Minho says. “You got dark circles and if you continue doing that your eyes will no longer be beautiful,” he continues. Taemin looks at him as if he did not understand a thing. There is an awkward silence before the words sink in and Taemin blushes, slowly tearing his gaze away from Minho’s eyes.
Minho laughs. “Look, it’s your free day. I cooked breakfast,” he says. He jumps off the bed and goes to the table where he takes a tray of pancakes with maple syrup and butter, apple juice, and bacons. The sight of the food delights Taemin and Minho amuses himself at the king’s expression.
“But I have papers-”
“Sshh,” Minho hushes, placing his index finger on Taemin’s lips. “I did them last night. Well, there are still some left but they can wait.”
“But-”
“No buts, Lee Taemin,” Minho sternly says and Taemin is slightly taken aback upon hearing his full name. If he weren’t a minister-no, if he weren’t Minho, Taemin could have simply put him to jail. But again, this is Minho and Taemin thinks his name sounds a lot more beautiful when it’s Minho who says it. He giggles and nods.
“You’ve been working so much you’re losing weight,” Minho says, placing a hand around Taemin’s waist while the other hand pinches him on the cheeks. “Look, they’re not as squishy as they were months ago,” Minho pouts.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin says with a faint smile.
Minho smiles back at him. “Go eat your breakfast,” he says, giving Taemin one last pinch on the cheek and hops off the bed.
“Where are you going?” the younger asks as he starts to slice the pancake. Minho does not answer; instead he enters one of the smaller rooms. He spends a minute inside and when he comes out, on his left hand he carries a really old rectangular device he recognizes as a family computer. On the other hand he has a small bag of cartridges. Taemin puts a hand over his mouth and stifles a giggle when Minho begins assembling the family computer on his TV.
“What are you doing?” Taemin finally asks.
“Remember when we used to play this almost everyday,” Minho answers. “I checked some of the old things I have in my room and I checked it. It’s still working!” he continues in an apparently excited tone. “Look! I still have this 300 games in one cartridge!” Minho pulls a yellow cartridge from the bag and shows it to Taemin more excitedly than necessary.
Taemin laughs. “So are you saying we’re gonna play this again?”
Minho pauses from fixing the tangled cables and looks at Taemin. “Yes? Why? You don’t want to?”
The disappointment apparent in Minho’s tone makes Taemin fervently shake his head and exclaim, “No no no! No I mean yes yes let’s play. I miss it anyway. Bomberman. I want Bomberman.”
Minho’s face shifts back to excitement and he continues assembling the set. When Taemin finally finishes his breakfast, Minho hands him the other joystick. “Game?” he asks and the younger nods.
Taemin doesn’t really feel like playing computer games in the morning. He has a lot of things going on in his head but then he really can’t say no. It’s his day-off and Minho seems to have planned the day out well for him. Besides, if he thinks of it, he really misses Minho and spending the whole day with him is actually a really good bonus.
The first game, Bomberman, starts a little lame as Taemin finds the mood to play (“You died again! What are you doing!” Minho tells him, scratching his head in slight frustration). But it doesn’t last long when he finally enjoys it, feeling a little nostalgic. Minho hasn’t really changed a lot. He’s still competitive, taking even the simplest of games a bit too seriously. Taemin laughs when Minho goes mad when his character dies, when he explodes, when he misses a bonus, when he doesn’t make it on time to finish the round. It lasts for an hour and Taemin soon curls on his bed as he continuously laughs at Minho’s misery over Bomberman.
“You are so hilarious! Please calm down!” Taemin exclaims as he laughs, slapping Minho on the shoulder.
“I cannot!” Minho yells, his fingers moving furiously on the joystick. “Agh man!” he groans when his character gets trapped in between a bomb and a wall. It explodes and Minho’s character fades. “I hate this game.”
Taemin laughs. “It’s just a game. I enjoyed playing, anyway,” he says. He moves closer to Minho and wraps his arms around the waist, resting his chin on Minho’s right shoulder. The older sighs and smiles. “Let’s stop. Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure?”
“What movie?”
“Romance.”
“I call for horror.”
With that Minho jumps again and runs to the CD racks. He ignores Taemin’s “Why are you doing this?!” and “No no not horror! No Minho! Hey! Come back here!” as he disassembles the family computer and sets up the DVD player.
“I am the King. I order you to come back here and stop playing-”
“It’s started,” Minho cuts and the CD starts rolling.
“How dare you not obey the king!” Taemin yells as he pulls a blanket to shoulder level. Minho grins. “I am sorry but it’s just plain Minho and Taemin today.”
The movie has been playing for more than thirty minutes with a series of Taemin yelping, screaming, hiding himself under the blanket, or hugging Minho tightly with shaky hands. Minho laughs, “It’s not real! It’s just a movie!”
“I hate you!” Taemin says as he buries his face on Minho’s back. “Did the ghost disappear yet?” he asks.
“Yes?”
Taemin, for some reason, trusts Minho’s words and takes a peek on the older’s shoulder. As soon as his sight lands on the TV screen, however, the ghost’s face occupies the whole screen with a shrill scream. Taemin loses his shit and screams, too, tightening his arms around Minho’s waist. Before he can bury his face again on the back, Minho suddenly turns around, puts a hand over Taemin’s back and pulls him closer so that the younger falls on his lap, the other arm supporting him by the nape.
“What are you doing?!”
Minho smiles as he looks at Taemin, hands covering almost the whole face. “Hey, I stopped the movie,” he says and the younger slowly moves his hands away. Taemin is almost teary and he is slightly shaking. Minho laughs.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his lips pulled to a faint smile. “Look at you, you’re so adorable when you’re scared.”
“I still hate you,” Taemin says, brows creased to a fold, and he pouts.
They fall silent.
Minho keeps his gaze locked on him and Taemin thinks he has never blushed this much since... since the last time he’d spent personal time with Minho. He likes Minho’s eyes: big, round, sometimes fierce. But when it comes to him, they are always calm, soothing, and loving. Taemin finds himself reaching for Minho’s forehead, down slowly to his cheeks, then tracing the lines of his face.
“You’re so beautiful I hate it,” Taemin kids.
Minho chuckles. “Let’s have romantic comedy instead?”
Taemin shyly retracts his hand and nods.
“But before that,” Minho says. He raises his arm so that Taemin’s face is inches away from his. He leans and their lips meet. Taemin yelps, totally unprepared, but he still lets Minho do it, lets himself melt into it. It starts as a chaste and sweet one until Taemin’s hand finds Minho’s neck, pulling him for a deeper kiss. Minho obliges and it becomes wild, messy, and wet until they are out of breath.
“Whoa,” Minho says when they break.
Taemin laughs. “Sorry I think I missed that a lot.”
Minho grins. Suddenly, he grabs Taemin by the hand, wrists together above his head. To his surprise, the younger does not resist; not even his face shows any dissent to what he is about to do.
“You said you want a fluffy movie?” Taemin asks innocently.
Minho shakes his head. “I think I want you to scream my name first before everything else,” he says as he starts to unbutton his dress.
“But it’s almost lunch-”
“You can have me as lunch.”
Taemin hisses. “Okay then.”
When evening comes, they are lying on their bed, Minho’s hand around Taemin’s waist. They can still feel the warmth of their naked skin against each other’s bodies and it makes their night sensually romantic. It’s silent but not awkwardly quiet. He likes the silence, the only sound they hear is their breathing, reminding him that he is not alone. That he has always Minho next to him.
“Thank you for today,” Taemin mutters, turning around to face Minho. The older’s eyes are closed but Taemin knows he isn’t asleep yet. He touches his face again, moving the fringe away to see his forehead, fingers slowly tracing the side of his face.
Minho gently holds Taemin’s hand and slowly intertwines their fingers. “Everything. For the person I love,” he says, kissing Taemin on the forehead.
“You’re so mushy I hate you.”
Minho laughs. “You love me still.”
“Yeah. I love you.
Taemin is excited for tomorrow. He wants to wake up to a beautiful morning, maybe warm, maybe cold. He wants to enjoy it slow and still, the cliches of sunrise, fresh dew on grass, the soft choir of birds as the mist begins to clear. He feels giddy thinking of the warm hug he will wake up to, an arm around his waist which will keep him on the comfort of his bed. He is excited to see Minho at the start of the day, as he stares at the gentleness of his sleep.
The day after tomorrow may be different-or back to normal. He may be spending less time with Minho and he may miss him badly in the next few days, but he is reassured that the person he loves the most will always be there. He realizes missing somebody a lot isn’t that bad at all. When you see each other again, it makes the moment a lot more precious than the usual.
Title: Call In Well, Call In Love
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Minho/Taemin
Length: 2,725 words
Summary: Taemin has a lot of things to do. Minho makes a way on how he can be part of it.
Notes: I am not sure if this is fluffy enough for justangel-nim but I hope you like this!
Remixee author: justangel
Title of work you're considering remixing: Inevitable, Eventual
Link to work you're considering remixing: http://jardin-interdit.livejournal.com/906.html
Taemin never actually dreads tomorrows. He loves waking up to beautiful mornings, sometimes warm, sometimes cold. He enjoys it slow and still, the cliches of sunrise, fresh dew on grass, the soft choir of birds as the mist begins to clear. He likes the warm hug he wakes up to, an arm around his waist which somehow pins him on the comfort of his bed. He likes seeing Minho at the start of the day, staring at the gentleness of his face in his sleep.
But right now, he misses all of it. He dislikes, if not hate, how fast tomorrows happen. He misses how he hardly gets sleep, or if he manages to find time to do so, he begins to think of things that should be left in the royal court or in his office. He dislikes how he no longer spends his mornings with Minho and his soft hugs and kisses, their perfect pancakes and hot chocolate breakfast; instead he gets papers and meetings at the first sunlight, the smell of strong coffee almost suffocating, the first half of the day without the sight of his man.
Taemin remembers how excited he was on the day he was crowned as the new king three years ago, Minho on his side, smiling proudly at him. He likes it. He likes seeing Minho by his side. He liked how tight and warm his hand was when he first held it in the balcony, on the day of his proclamation as the new king. But then, three years after, Taemin misses those hands, those reassuring smiles, those proud eyes that tell him no matter how harsh the life of a king would be, Minho is there.
It’s been three weeks since Taemin began dealing with the first problem of his kingdom for the year. An invasion spree of the northern kingdoms has led to a series of closure of trade routes. Although the impact is still minimal in the south (where they are), Taemin of course has to make sure the kingdom will not fall. It’s a big task with so much pressure. He is the king and the people trust him to keep the country intact, safe, and still living; but obviously, it’s never an easy job.
Minho, being the highest minister of the court, of course has to be present in all of the court meetings. And although they see each other almost everyday, High Minister Minho and His Majesty Taemin is a different story from just plain Minho and Taemin.
“You need to rest, Your Majesty,” Minho once says during a ministerial meeting break. Taemin looks at him with raised eyebrows and tensed body. When he realizes it’s Minho, he quickly loosens and tries to pull a smile.
Minho laughs. “Go grab some lunch,” he leans and whispers, eyes moving to both sides, making sure no one is around to see him speak informally to the king. He leans a little more closer and plants a peck on Taemin’s cheeks. When no one sees him, he immediately straightens and clears his throat. “I will be back, your majesty,” he says.
Taemin blinks and watches as Minho walks out of the hall, a hand slowly creeping up his face. Then he giggles. Well, nothing’s wrong with taking a more-than-friendly advice.
The day carries on with a lot more stress than what the whole ministry has expected. The issues that have arisen from the meeting doubled and he nearly curses the heavens for giving him such a kingdom in crisis.
“Your Highness, the meeting tomorrow-”
“I apologize for the interruption, your excellency,” Minho interrupts one of the ministers, slightly bowing at him. “I think it is necessary to give the members of the Court enough time to come up with their recommendations for all the matters that have arisen from this meeting. Hence, I suggest that we have the next meeting two days from now.”
Not that he does not agree with him but Taemin knows Minho is doing this on purpose. He stares at him, silently giving him the what-are-you-doing look. Minho smiles, slightly tilts his head and raises a brow and Taemin discerns his message: “If you argue, I have counter-arguments. And you are too tired to actually be coherent so just say yes and everything will be okay.”
Taemin sighs. “Okay then. The Court shall convene again two days from now at exactly ten in the morning.”
There is a grin of success that immediately forms on Minho’s face. Taemin smiles and mouths “Thank you.”
The next day comes and Taemin forgets that it’s his first day off so when he feels the warmth of sunlight on his face, he basically flips on the bed and screams “I AM LATE!” as he falls on one side with a loud bam.
“Oh god,” Taemin groans, lying on his back, a hand rubbing his forehead when it hit the edge of a side table. He lazily pushes himself up, one hand grabbing the blankets. But he is too sleepy to actually sit properly so with eyes closed, he places his chin on top of the mattress and prays that it will support him up only to fail. He fully wakes up though when a loud laughter echoes in his room, too loud that he finds himself sitting on the floor, back straight, wide eyes and staring at the sofa across his bed.
“Oh my god look at you,” Minho says in between laughter, one hand tightly holding his stomach as he curl on the seat. “Jesus that’s the cutest thing I’ve seen in my whole life please do it again oh my god.”
Taemin successfully goes back to his bed and sits on it. He rubs his eyes and hisses, followed by a pout. “I hate you,” he says.
Minho’s laughter dies down soon and when he finally calms down, he walks toward the bed and sits next to Taemin. His fingers reach for the younger’s forehead, fixing the messy fringe. He then takes Taemin’s hand.
“Stop rubbing your eyes,” Minho says. “You got dark circles and if you continue doing that your eyes will no longer be beautiful,” he continues. Taemin looks at him as if he did not understand a thing. There is an awkward silence before the words sink in and Taemin blushes, slowly tearing his gaze away from Minho’s eyes.
Minho laughs. “Look, it’s your free day. I cooked breakfast,” he says. He jumps off the bed and goes to the table where he takes a tray of pancakes with maple syrup and butter, apple juice, and bacons. The sight of the food delights Taemin and Minho amuses himself at the king’s expression.
“But I have papers-”
“Sshh,” Minho hushes, placing his index finger on Taemin’s lips. “I did them last night. Well, there are still some left but they can wait.”
“But-”
“No buts, Lee Taemin,” Minho sternly says and Taemin is slightly taken aback upon hearing his full name. If he weren’t a minister-no, if he weren’t Minho, Taemin could have simply put him to jail. But again, this is Minho and Taemin thinks his name sounds a lot more beautiful when it’s Minho who says it. He giggles and nods.
“You’ve been working so much you’re losing weight,” Minho says, placing a hand around Taemin’s waist while the other hand pinches him on the cheeks. “Look, they’re not as squishy as they were months ago,” Minho pouts.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin says with a faint smile.
Minho smiles back at him. “Go eat your breakfast,” he says, giving Taemin one last pinch on the cheek and hops off the bed.
“Where are you going?” the younger asks as he starts to slice the pancake. Minho does not answer; instead he enters one of the smaller rooms. He spends a minute inside and when he comes out, on his left hand he carries a really old rectangular device he recognizes as a family computer. On the other hand he has a small bag of cartridges. Taemin puts a hand over his mouth and stifles a giggle when Minho begins assembling the family computer on his TV.
“What are you doing?” Taemin finally asks.
“Remember when we used to play this almost everyday,” Minho answers. “I checked some of the old things I have in my room and I checked it. It’s still working!” he continues in an apparently excited tone. “Look! I still have this 300 games in one cartridge!” Minho pulls a yellow cartridge from the bag and shows it to Taemin more excitedly than necessary.
Taemin laughs. “So are you saying we’re gonna play this again?”
Minho pauses from fixing the tangled cables and looks at Taemin. “Yes? Why? You don’t want to?”
The disappointment apparent in Minho’s tone makes Taemin fervently shake his head and exclaim, “No no no! No I mean yes yes let’s play. I miss it anyway. Bomberman. I want Bomberman.”
Minho’s face shifts back to excitement and he continues assembling the set. When Taemin finally finishes his breakfast, Minho hands him the other joystick. “Game?” he asks and the younger nods.
Taemin doesn’t really feel like playing computer games in the morning. He has a lot of things going on in his head but then he really can’t say no. It’s his day-off and Minho seems to have planned the day out well for him. Besides, if he thinks of it, he really misses Minho and spending the whole day with him is actually a really good bonus.
The first game, Bomberman, starts a little lame as Taemin finds the mood to play (“You died again! What are you doing!” Minho tells him, scratching his head in slight frustration). But it doesn’t last long when he finally enjoys it, feeling a little nostalgic. Minho hasn’t really changed a lot. He’s still competitive, taking even the simplest of games a bit too seriously. Taemin laughs when Minho goes mad when his character dies, when he explodes, when he misses a bonus, when he doesn’t make it on time to finish the round. It lasts for an hour and Taemin soon curls on his bed as he continuously laughs at Minho’s misery over Bomberman.
“You are so hilarious! Please calm down!” Taemin exclaims as he laughs, slapping Minho on the shoulder.
“I cannot!” Minho yells, his fingers moving furiously on the joystick. “Agh man!” he groans when his character gets trapped in between a bomb and a wall. It explodes and Minho’s character fades. “I hate this game.”
Taemin laughs. “It’s just a game. I enjoyed playing, anyway,” he says. He moves closer to Minho and wraps his arms around the waist, resting his chin on Minho’s right shoulder. The older sighs and smiles. “Let’s stop. Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure?”
“What movie?”
“Romance.”
“I call for horror.”
With that Minho jumps again and runs to the CD racks. He ignores Taemin’s “Why are you doing this?!” and “No no not horror! No Minho! Hey! Come back here!” as he disassembles the family computer and sets up the DVD player.
“I am the King. I order you to come back here and stop playing-”
“It’s started,” Minho cuts and the CD starts rolling.
“How dare you not obey the king!” Taemin yells as he pulls a blanket to shoulder level. Minho grins. “I am sorry but it’s just plain Minho and Taemin today.”
The movie has been playing for more than thirty minutes with a series of Taemin yelping, screaming, hiding himself under the blanket, or hugging Minho tightly with shaky hands. Minho laughs, “It’s not real! It’s just a movie!”
“I hate you!” Taemin says as he buries his face on Minho’s back. “Did the ghost disappear yet?” he asks.
“Yes?”
Taemin, for some reason, trusts Minho’s words and takes a peek on the older’s shoulder. As soon as his sight lands on the TV screen, however, the ghost’s face occupies the whole screen with a shrill scream. Taemin loses his shit and screams, too, tightening his arms around Minho’s waist. Before he can bury his face again on the back, Minho suddenly turns around, puts a hand over Taemin’s back and pulls him closer so that the younger falls on his lap, the other arm supporting him by the nape.
“What are you doing?!”
Minho smiles as he looks at Taemin, hands covering almost the whole face. “Hey, I stopped the movie,” he says and the younger slowly moves his hands away. Taemin is almost teary and he is slightly shaking. Minho laughs.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his lips pulled to a faint smile. “Look at you, you’re so adorable when you’re scared.”
“I still hate you,” Taemin says, brows creased to a fold, and he pouts.
They fall silent.
Minho keeps his gaze locked on him and Taemin thinks he has never blushed this much since... since the last time he’d spent personal time with Minho. He likes Minho’s eyes: big, round, sometimes fierce. But when it comes to him, they are always calm, soothing, and loving. Taemin finds himself reaching for Minho’s forehead, down slowly to his cheeks, then tracing the lines of his face.
“You’re so beautiful I hate it,” Taemin kids.
Minho chuckles. “Let’s have romantic comedy instead?”
Taemin shyly retracts his hand and nods.
“But before that,” Minho says. He raises his arm so that Taemin’s face is inches away from his. He leans and their lips meet. Taemin yelps, totally unprepared, but he still lets Minho do it, lets himself melt into it. It starts as a chaste and sweet one until Taemin’s hand finds Minho’s neck, pulling him for a deeper kiss. Minho obliges and it becomes wild, messy, and wet until they are out of breath.
“Whoa,” Minho says when they break.
Taemin laughs. “Sorry I think I missed that a lot.”
Minho grins. Suddenly, he grabs Taemin by the hand, wrists together above his head. To his surprise, the younger does not resist; not even his face shows any dissent to what he is about to do.
“You said you want a fluffy movie?” Taemin asks innocently.
Minho shakes his head. “I think I want you to scream my name first before everything else,” he says as he starts to unbutton his dress.
“But it’s almost lunch-”
“You can have me as lunch.”
Taemin hisses. “Okay then.”
When evening comes, they are lying on their bed, Minho’s hand around Taemin’s waist. They can still feel the warmth of their naked skin against each other’s bodies and it makes their night sensually romantic. It’s silent but not awkwardly quiet. He likes the silence, the only sound they hear is their breathing, reminding him that he is not alone. That he has always Minho next to him.
“Thank you for today,” Taemin mutters, turning around to face Minho. The older’s eyes are closed but Taemin knows he isn’t asleep yet. He touches his face again, moving the fringe away to see his forehead, fingers slowly tracing the side of his face.
Minho gently holds Taemin’s hand and slowly intertwines their fingers. “Everything. For the person I love,” he says, kissing Taemin on the forehead.
“You’re so mushy I hate you.”
Minho laughs. “You love me still.”
“Yeah. I love you.
Taemin is excited for tomorrow. He wants to wake up to a beautiful morning, maybe warm, maybe cold. He wants to enjoy it slow and still, the cliches of sunrise, fresh dew on grass, the soft choir of birds as the mist begins to clear. He feels giddy thinking of the warm hug he will wake up to, an arm around his waist which will keep him on the comfort of his bed. He is excited to see Minho at the start of the day, as he stares at the gentleness of his sleep.
The day after tomorrow may be different-or back to normal. He may be spending less time with Minho and he may miss him badly in the next few days, but he is reassured that the person he loves the most will always be there. He realizes missing somebody a lot isn’t that bad at all. When you see each other again, it makes the moment a lot more precious than the usual.