How to Reduce Choi Minho to a Blithering Idiot
Title How to Reduce Choi Minho to a Blithering Idiot
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG-13
Genre: fluffstration
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 1231
NOTE: this. is so old. I don't even want to talk about it. I'm only posting it because I said I would.
/bratty
There was no way Taemin was actually wearing those jeans.
It was his only luck that Taemin was occupied with something Onew was telling him as he walked into the dorm’s great room, because otherwise he would have seen the other boy’s jaw drop, his hand halt comically in midair on the way to grab his shoes from the floor.
Frozen, shocked, Minho could only think that he had no idea whether to curse or praise the stylist preparing the boys for today’s concert. The outfit they’d chosen for Taemin felt new, risky…no, forget it, the clothes were downright dangerous.
Sure, it started out innocently enough, with a simple plaid button-up topping a white graphic shirt, watches stacked in cute blocks of color up his arms. But then the eye was drawn to the jeans. Those jeans. They were tight, black, and ripped by what Minho thought must have been a very sadistic designer. Generous slashes of skin were showcased by the rips, rips that started at the knees and zigzagged high up his legs, boldly exposing even his inner thighs.
Minho’s eyes followed the slight flexing of the long muscle there as Taemin sashayed across the room. He couldn’t help but notice how pale his skin was, how soft it looked. He couldn’t help but wonder how…
Appalled, Minho shook himself forcefully from his reverie. This was little Taeminnie he was gawking at here, his dongsaeng for the love of Pete. Minho was not thinking about him like that. Absolutely wasn’t.
Minho stood up, feeling flushed and antsy. He slapped his cheeks lightly, taking deep breaths to try and calm his traitorous heart. They were only a pair of pants; he thought frantically, he was being silly. He’d seen Taemin’s legs before, plenty of times in fact, so this was no different. Straightening his shoulders in a defensive gesture contrary to his thoughts, Minho strode into the kitchen behind the boys without any real idea of his intentions.
And almost fell over. Taemin stood at the counter, reaching into a cupboard, and was balancing on his tippy-toes in order to reach the top shelf. Much to Minho’s dismay, he saw that the horrible rips traveled all the way up the back of the jeans as well, stopping directly beneath a small, tight butt. Taemin did a little hop, still straining to reach the shelf, that had Minho physically stumbling backwards, falling over Onew (who was bent at the pantry) with his newfound clumsiness.
“Hey, watch it!” yelped Onew as Minho’s legs hit his back, looking up as the contact unbalanced the younger boy and sending him sprawling onto the floor, knocking an elbow on the nearby counter. “you okay there?”
Taemin, alerted by the noise, turned from the cupboard to see Minho laid flat on the floor, a concerned Onew fluttering at his side.
“Oh, hey hyung,” he chirped, inwardly smirking at the sight. “Trip on something?”
Minho groaned, picking himself up and looking anywhere but at Taemin.
“Tripped. Yeah, I tripped,” he mumbled, hating his awkwardness and Taemin’s lovely, slender legs. He stood dumbly as Jinki grabbed a soda before heading out, calling to Jonghyun. “Uhm, what are you guys doing eating anyways? We have to leave soon.”
“Oh, just a snack, a quick snack,” said Taemin, waving the nutella he had finally managed to reach. “Me and Onew were talking about that new crepe place, that café down the street, and I got hungry so I’m making toast. Want some?”
Never able to resist Taemin’s bubbling talk, Minho found himself nodding and taking a seat at one of the counter stools.
“I suppose we do have a little time,” he said, relaxing a bit as he watched the younger boy bustle about the kitchen. This was better, this was normal. The counter cut off at hip-height.
Finishing his toast, Taemin came around the counter to sit next to him, taking the stool beside him and leaning in with the toast, brushing his knee against Minho’s. Instantly all of his resolve dissipated and he found his eyes trailing down Taemin’s body, resting on the long, trim thigh pressed snugly to his own. Taemin chattered on about the spread, tousled hair falling slightly over his eyes as he gestured with a knife.
“All we have to do is spread it, and we get instant heaven,” he said proudly, unscrewing the cap. “Seriously. Kibum is the one who found this, and it’s so good.”
He hurriedly spread chocolate on his toast, picking it up gingerly for the first melty bite. His eyes slid shut as he savored, tongue skimming out to look for any missed taste. Watching the unashamed display of pleasure, Minho’s own mouth watered. He couldn’t honestly say it was for the chocolate.
“Mmm,” Taemin crooned, eyes still closed. “I love Kibum.” He perked up then, leaning towards Minho again, eyes still warm with pleasure. “You have got to try this.”
“I…uhm…” Minho blinked, trying to snap out of it, to clear his fuzzy mind of the images Taemin’s tongue had innocently conjured. “what?”
“here, the chocolate,” he said, holding out the jar as he wasn’t willing to give up his actual toast.
Giving in mostly because of a muddled brain, Minho dipped his finger into the chocolate, scooping a bit into his mouth. Maybe it was the mood spun by his unassuming dongsaeng, but he found himself also savoring the taste; it was surprisingly rich. He licked the last bit of chocolate off of his finger, sighing. Opening the eyes he didn’t know had closed, Minho met Taemin’s now-intense gaze. Clearing his throat, Minho sat up a bit and hastily said, “You were right--it’s good.”
“I want it like that.” Taemin said, surprising Minho.
“What?”
“I said, feed it to me, too. That looked good.”
Minho knew it was a bad idea, just as he’d known the moment Taemin walked into the room wearing those pants that he was a goner; he couldn’t resist if he’d tried. Taemin was pressing into him, insistent, and Minho could still feel the friction of his bare skin against his leg beneath the counter. Knowing when to fold in the face of Taemin’s petulance, he dipped his finger back into the jar, holding it up to his lips. The younger boy held his gaze as he licked at the chocolate, his tongue sliding over Minho’s skin and causing prickles of sensation to ricochet down his arm and through his body. He watched as Taemin took the last bit of the sweet, nipping Minho’s fingertip lightly and making him shiver before he leaned back, a self-satisfied smile flirting around his mouth.
“See hyung, I told you it was heaven,” he said coyly, sliding off of his stool, letting their bodies brush. “We should get going or we’ll be late,” he murmured, but held the contact until Minho thought he might die. He was helpless, trapped in his smile, his scent, his proximity but unable to move. Taemin smiled a slow, knowing smile, then turned and sauntered out, giving Minho a perfect view of tantalizing leg and leaving him burning, his only company a slice of cold toast.
It was going to be a long day.
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG-13
Genre: fluffstration
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 1231
NOTE: this. is so old. I don't even want to talk about it. I'm only posting it because I said I would.
/bratty
There was no way Taemin was actually wearing those jeans.
It was his only luck that Taemin was occupied with something Onew was telling him as he walked into the dorm’s great room, because otherwise he would have seen the other boy’s jaw drop, his hand halt comically in midair on the way to grab his shoes from the floor.
Frozen, shocked, Minho could only think that he had no idea whether to curse or praise the stylist preparing the boys for today’s concert. The outfit they’d chosen for Taemin felt new, risky…no, forget it, the clothes were downright dangerous.
Sure, it started out innocently enough, with a simple plaid button-up topping a white graphic shirt, watches stacked in cute blocks of color up his arms. But then the eye was drawn to the jeans. Those jeans. They were tight, black, and ripped by what Minho thought must have been a very sadistic designer. Generous slashes of skin were showcased by the rips, rips that started at the knees and zigzagged high up his legs, boldly exposing even his inner thighs.
Minho’s eyes followed the slight flexing of the long muscle there as Taemin sashayed across the room. He couldn’t help but notice how pale his skin was, how soft it looked. He couldn’t help but wonder how…
Appalled, Minho shook himself forcefully from his reverie. This was little Taeminnie he was gawking at here, his dongsaeng for the love of Pete. Minho was not thinking about him like that. Absolutely wasn’t.
Minho stood up, feeling flushed and antsy. He slapped his cheeks lightly, taking deep breaths to try and calm his traitorous heart. They were only a pair of pants; he thought frantically, he was being silly. He’d seen Taemin’s legs before, plenty of times in fact, so this was no different. Straightening his shoulders in a defensive gesture contrary to his thoughts, Minho strode into the kitchen behind the boys without any real idea of his intentions.
And almost fell over. Taemin stood at the counter, reaching into a cupboard, and was balancing on his tippy-toes in order to reach the top shelf. Much to Minho’s dismay, he saw that the horrible rips traveled all the way up the back of the jeans as well, stopping directly beneath a small, tight butt. Taemin did a little hop, still straining to reach the shelf, that had Minho physically stumbling backwards, falling over Onew (who was bent at the pantry) with his newfound clumsiness.
“Hey, watch it!” yelped Onew as Minho’s legs hit his back, looking up as the contact unbalanced the younger boy and sending him sprawling onto the floor, knocking an elbow on the nearby counter. “you okay there?”
Taemin, alerted by the noise, turned from the cupboard to see Minho laid flat on the floor, a concerned Onew fluttering at his side.
“Oh, hey hyung,” he chirped, inwardly smirking at the sight. “Trip on something?”
Minho groaned, picking himself up and looking anywhere but at Taemin.
“Tripped. Yeah, I tripped,” he mumbled, hating his awkwardness and Taemin’s lovely, slender legs. He stood dumbly as Jinki grabbed a soda before heading out, calling to Jonghyun. “Uhm, what are you guys doing eating anyways? We have to leave soon.”
“Oh, just a snack, a quick snack,” said Taemin, waving the nutella he had finally managed to reach. “Me and Onew were talking about that new crepe place, that café down the street, and I got hungry so I’m making toast. Want some?”
Never able to resist Taemin’s bubbling talk, Minho found himself nodding and taking a seat at one of the counter stools.
“I suppose we do have a little time,” he said, relaxing a bit as he watched the younger boy bustle about the kitchen. This was better, this was normal. The counter cut off at hip-height.
Finishing his toast, Taemin came around the counter to sit next to him, taking the stool beside him and leaning in with the toast, brushing his knee against Minho’s. Instantly all of his resolve dissipated and he found his eyes trailing down Taemin’s body, resting on the long, trim thigh pressed snugly to his own. Taemin chattered on about the spread, tousled hair falling slightly over his eyes as he gestured with a knife.
“All we have to do is spread it, and we get instant heaven,” he said proudly, unscrewing the cap. “Seriously. Kibum is the one who found this, and it’s so good.”
He hurriedly spread chocolate on his toast, picking it up gingerly for the first melty bite. His eyes slid shut as he savored, tongue skimming out to look for any missed taste. Watching the unashamed display of pleasure, Minho’s own mouth watered. He couldn’t honestly say it was for the chocolate.
“Mmm,” Taemin crooned, eyes still closed. “I love Kibum.” He perked up then, leaning towards Minho again, eyes still warm with pleasure. “You have got to try this.”
“I…uhm…” Minho blinked, trying to snap out of it, to clear his fuzzy mind of the images Taemin’s tongue had innocently conjured. “what?”
“here, the chocolate,” he said, holding out the jar as he wasn’t willing to give up his actual toast.
Giving in mostly because of a muddled brain, Minho dipped his finger into the chocolate, scooping a bit into his mouth. Maybe it was the mood spun by his unassuming dongsaeng, but he found himself also savoring the taste; it was surprisingly rich. He licked the last bit of chocolate off of his finger, sighing. Opening the eyes he didn’t know had closed, Minho met Taemin’s now-intense gaze. Clearing his throat, Minho sat up a bit and hastily said, “You were right--it’s good.”
“I want it like that.” Taemin said, surprising Minho.
“What?”
“I said, feed it to me, too. That looked good.”
Minho knew it was a bad idea, just as he’d known the moment Taemin walked into the room wearing those pants that he was a goner; he couldn’t resist if he’d tried. Taemin was pressing into him, insistent, and Minho could still feel the friction of his bare skin against his leg beneath the counter. Knowing when to fold in the face of Taemin’s petulance, he dipped his finger back into the jar, holding it up to his lips. The younger boy held his gaze as he licked at the chocolate, his tongue sliding over Minho’s skin and causing prickles of sensation to ricochet down his arm and through his body. He watched as Taemin took the last bit of the sweet, nipping Minho’s fingertip lightly and making him shiver before he leaned back, a self-satisfied smile flirting around his mouth.
“See hyung, I told you it was heaven,” he said coyly, sliding off of his stool, letting their bodies brush. “We should get going or we’ll be late,” he murmured, but held the contact until Minho thought he might die. He was helpless, trapped in his smile, his scent, his proximity but unable to move. Taemin smiled a slow, knowing smile, then turned and sauntered out, giving Minho a perfect view of tantalizing leg and leaving him burning, his only company a slice of cold toast.
It was going to be a long day.