R2; Unconventional Noppera Bo
Pairing: Xiumin/D.O
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3K+
Warnings: None.
Summary: A love story in three snippets. (Or how Minseok found himself a lover on an unseasonably dreary day.)
[Authors Note]Author's Notes: Before this story can be told, the author must expressly explain a few things that may become confusing during the reading of the story. So, for the sake of your future mental health the author will say that due to Minseok and Kyungsoo's equally short stature, it was difficult to tell the difference without further confusion. They both have dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin, though Minseok tended to be more fashion forward with his wardrobe choices whilst Kyungsoo stuck to the more conservative stylized clothing. Do Kyungsoo wears glasses, and is quietly meek as accountants are expected to be (in his company specifically, his job description causes him to be overlooked sadly) while Kim Minseok’s silence felt more foreboding or aloof with his position of VP of Marketing in a high end business.
But really, you don't have to know any of that to follow the story. Do enjoy!
Unbeta-d. so beware mistakes!
Hands grappled for a hold on Minseok’s jacket, blunt but too conspicuous to be a pickpocket’s attempt in the confusion and chaos of a downtown university district. A hitch of breath and a nudge in the ribs was what gave him pause, and it took only that momentary lapse in motion to push the owner of those hands into him fully.
They were caught in a maelstrom of pedestrians on the bad end of rush hour, all eager to head home on a weeknight, or just leaving for an evening shift and anxious to reach their destination without delay. The crowd of multi-hued fashion tragedies and the practically-dressed pushed and shoved the fallen strangers until they were upright and intimately acquainted with one another's scents and body heat. They were cornered beneath a closed store-front’s sill, golden plate reading Moonlit Rooftops.
The air is too-warm and condensed between their bodies, moisture collecting at their temples and upper lips. Barely an inch apart they stood, one's back to the wall standing ramrod straight unable to pull away or turn his face for fear of brushing against the other. The conservative styled hair of the shorter was beginning to curl at his temples and behind his ringing ears, eyes wet and generous lips bruised, cheeks ruddy in the atypical heat of a mid-spring’s night. The taller of the two is holding his breath and exhaling in shallow bursts, light headed and unwilling to move for the moment.
The shorter’s hands are shaking, eyes swimming in bubbling blurs of reflective grey, opaque blacks and marine blues; his breath coming in purposefully deep and slow, lungs filled with the heady smoky scent of a foreign cologne. The taste of spice and bitter adrenaline coat the back of his tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth. There are red indents over the bridge of his nose, but no spectacles visible on his person.
The ever-changing omnipresent sky above breaks with a thunderous roil of strong wind and bright zings of light, forewarning to only moments later of a warm rainshower. Thus, the momentary bubble two strangers inadvertently had created bursts with a shuddering intake of breath.
Minseok shakes himself out of his stupor, caught by how rain rolled round cheeks and caught at the corner of full lips and clumped the man's lashes, and takes a step back. Apologies are stuck in his throat with unclear eyes trying for focus but missing just over his left shoulder, and a surprisingly sonorous tenor tells him somberly, “I can't see.”
“Pardon?”
The man opens his mouth, closes it, then opens again, words stubbornly stuck in his throat. He then bites his lower lip, a nervous agitated tick it seemed, and drops his gaze to Minseok’s chest, forgotten fingers loosening their hold on his cuff. Rain was steadily soaking through his suit, umbrella lost in the forray and the other’s dark shirt was sticking to his chest accentuating the slighter frame - that shook under his palms where they still hooked under his elbows.
“I can’t see,” comes the reply, mumbled as if it would be overlooked if said nonchalantly, in a jumble of short consonants.
Momentarily, the thought of eyes so largely expressive being unable to see brought a pang of inexplicable loss to Minseok’s chest, before he barred them away as a normal human reaction, and not the fact the man was appealing to his protective side (and his libido).
Before he could put in a word, and possibly crush any walls the man was erecting, someone pushed past them in a hurry nearly overbalancing the two into oncoming pedestrian traffic and to make matters worse, by evading them Minseok walked into the path of a biker, leaving the interaction with a litany of expletives from the driver and muddied trousers. Looking back at the man who looked a little bit like a browned mouse, he decided that he’d had enough of standing in the culminating downpour. So he cleared his throat and tapped the man’s elbow again to grab his attention.
“There’s a cafe a few stores down. I’m sure they won’t mind you borrowing a phone… ?”
“Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo fumbled for a hold against Minseok’s grasp before hesitantly taking a step beside him, eyes narrowing to squint and shift from side to side, thick brows furrowed in concentration. Tentatively taking the first step, he became steadier the quicker he realized his guide wouldn’t allow him to bump into anything or anyone until the bell above the cafe door jingled announcing their entrance.
“Minseok.”
The weeks after were a whirlwind of activity for the two, a courtship that left Minseok breathless and windmilling in its wake, or rather getting accustomed to the fast paced progression between Kyungsoo and himself and the way few before have brought out the caring paternal figure beneath his cool entrepreneurial veneer. There was something in the way the slight raven-head held himself, separate from everyone else and yet just close enough to seem commonplace among the commoners.
Over trips to the younger man’s favoured stops in downtown Chicago, (one incidentally being the same Minseok had led him to that rainy evening, which really went a ways in relaxing Kyungsoo. The manager was a childhood friend who’d given Minseok the stink eye upon seeing her friend mud-splattered, but then did a 180° when she was told of the incident earlier, mother-henning with warm drinks) he learnt of Kyungsoo’s intolerance to anything creamy or overly sweet, and conversely, his extreme tolerance to bullshit, facing vulgarity and replying in a swiftly but deadly manner with a straight face while never edging the line to tip beyond polite disinterest. It was amusing to watch a disgruntled, combobulated giant of a man walk away from a 5’4” accountant without leaving a bruised jaw at the least.
If a man twice his size came up to Minseok and started a bar fight because of his short stature or sexual afflictions, Minseok would either find himself locked up in a jail cell for the night cooling his heels, or nursing bruised ribs and a manic bloodied grin, high off endorphins and adrenaline.
He learned that Kyungsoo had been 90% blind for the larger part of his life, then at 18 an anonymous donor had gifted his parents coverage for the cost of the then-tentative operation that would lead to the innovation of ophthalmologic surgery worldwide, and of course Kyungsoo seeing no further harm in doing so had gone under the knife. The operation had not given him perfect vision per se but the result was better than hoped for; but, due to the requirements of his job (an accountant of all things) and the up-close use of electronic interfaces for over a decade lead to his return to near legal blindness by the time he reached the spectrum of his thirties.
He also learned that, living without reliance on vision, the man was extremely dextrous tipping into devious when Minseok tugged him away from work for a date night at home, ending with wine-stained lips bruised and bitten and a lapful of flexible, delectable male rolling into him with hands so deeply buried in his hair he would imagine no better home for them.
Kyungsoo was wont to indulge (not that Minseok was disgruntled by it; quite the contrary) in lasting swipes of tongue silkily against his and suckling at Minseok’s lips to the point of oversensitivity, hearts thudding wildly in contrast to the sedate pace and air of finality.
They would then sit for as long as they could be willing with Kyungsoo in Minseok’s lap, foreheads buried in dips of necks and shoulders until their bodies’ impulse to hump like teenagers in hormonal heat was sedated enough to finish the movie they were not-watching, then bid each other goodnight. After which Minseok would lock himself in his bedroom and fuck his hand to completion, the imprint of Kyungsoo's body writhing over him pushing him closer and closer to an unsatisfactory orgasm. He would then lay in bed and wonder if pushing the small man out of his comfort zone would be too abrupt at this point.
And as such their tenuous courtship listed over to dating territory, something neither of them seemed predisposed to acknowledge or truly give voice to at the present time.
Life continued as if nothing had changed, and yet there was something sweeter in the air, a headier sense of anticipation when the clock struck ten ending a long day’s work. Something more satisfactory than seeing an end to the seemingly endless pile of paperwork on his desk, each man sifted through voicemails and reminders, shuffled even more papers into briefcases on different blocks of the Chicagoan business district, both leaving a cubicle and office respectively with a soft sigh of relief. Coworkers called out jestingly envious jeers and congratulatory well-wishes for being able to leave this early on a weekday, so close to the new year’s celebrations.
Of course the gossip mill had run its course to see who had caught the eyes of their aloof Vice President of marketing, though they were no closer to figuring out who it could be than Minseok’s closest friends who loved nothing more than to poke their noses into his private affairs. Chanyeol catches up with him at the lifts, just as Minseok slips off his tie to stuff into his pocket. The doors slide shut with a ding and the lurch of their stomachs stipulating their descent.
The lanky CEO clutches at his midriff, greening round the gills, “I hate elevators.”
“No one’s asked you to follow me around, Chanyeol.”
“I wouldn’t be following you around, giving myself up to the discomforts of gravity, if you’d tell me who’s been keeping you away from all the extra shifts you usually take.”
“It’s your persistence that’s always caused you discomfort -case in point, you being in this elevator when I know you aren’t due to leave til midnight- and though it’s admirable when it comes to your father’s company… Your interest in my personal business is very much not.”
“What private business? Your life is entirely comprised of publicly arousing people’s interests in our company’s business while I laze around in my office playing Angry Bird all day with Jongdae hounding my ass to sign this paper or that. Dad thinks the sun shines out of your ass, and it very well might with the way your ice cold temper is. All those reflective surfaces.” He threw in a Jack Sparrow-esque finger wiggle, nose scrunched up comically. And to think they were a bare two years apart.
Minseok gives his friend an amused grin before stepping out of the lift with a reserved wave and a quietly amused, “Goodnight, Chanyeol.”
The weather had turned for the worse, though nothing unusual to the Windy City. Snow dusted everything in a spread of white as far as the eye can see, smog turning to fog in a wintry whirl tinted ruby and emerald in the festive colours of near-ending celebrations. Minseok wrapped himself up in a grey-speckled tweed coat and hailed a cab home.
He lived an hour outside of Chicago in an older suburban area where there were more family vans lining driveways than the bright sports cars of the retired and rich; old houses renovated to withhold the harsh snowstorms the state was accustomed to. There were still bikes thrown out in neighbor’s lawns, basketball hoops standing beneath barren trees and the twinkling remnants of a festive Christmas hanging off porches and windows.
As the taxi pulled up to the house, he saw Kyungsoo’s compact Fiat idling in his driveway, the light of what must’ve been his phone glancing off the glass of his spectacles. He looked flushed in the heat of the car, forehead creased and ruddy lips sucked in concentration; he’d let his hair grow out since they’d first met, now brushing his lashes as he swept a gloved finger to push it out of his eyes.
His phone vibrated as Kyungsoo caught him looking, flashing him a shyly devious smirk before cutting the engine. The taxi driver cleared his throat, and flustered, Minseok paid and watched the car leave, headlights bright in the otherwise quiet dark of his neighborhood. He turned back to the Fiat and saw that Kyungsoo had walked ahead and was waiting at the front door, toying with the extra length of his powder blue scarf.
Minseok’s stomach fluttered and tightened in the foretaste of what was to come of the night.
Before the raven-head could form words beyond a husky “Hey” Minseok caught tempting lips with his own, pressing flush against a suddenly pliant body, the taste and scent of peppermint chocolate overwhelming him with the desire to lick the taste of it from this man’s mouth until only the essence of Kyungsoo remained.
It was miraculous how the two found themselves inside the house at all, never mind finding the living room lounge. Then they were shedding extra layers that came with the turn of the seasons. Minseok and Kyungsoo watched one another as one then the other disrobed, revealing creamy pale skin beneath low hung sweater necks, blotched in a growing smear of red arousal rising from their chests to the apples of their cheeks.
The sheets were on the floor, room a haze of sex and heat, no sound but the slow deep breaths of afterglow. There were trousers pooled in the doorway, ties and jackets on the living room couch, and a single sock haphazardly hanging off a lamp, swinging still. Two men lay in bed, too warm for anything more than an arm's-width of distance between cooling bodies, but legs tangled together nevertheless. The clock ticked in the corner of the room, loud in the silence of the night, underlied by the slow intakes of air tugging them into a half-sleeping state.
Kyungsoo tugged his arm out from where it was crushed beneath Minseok’s flank, stretching to reach his glasses. His lover watched him with adoration, rolling onto his side to pull the man flush to his chest, rumbling happily when Kyungsoo leaned in for a lazy, languid kiss.
---
“God, what I wouldn't do to get a piece of that,” Jongin emphasized emphatically with a drunken whirl of a hand- the same hand holding a refilled glass of whatever was on tap.
They were at an after-party, mixing with new employees and acquaintances having finally gotten the okay and their two companies merged to be the leading brand of the business. Minseok had left Chanyeol to kissass and get the dirt on their newest Chief of Staff, leaving him with a group of inebriated underlings and one tipsy secretary getting too much attention and too little guarding if Chanyeol’s stink-eye were to be taken under consideration.
“And what exactly is that?” he replied calmly, running his thumb along the lip of his glass slowly. He was rather amused by the cat and mouse chase his friends continued to pursue; it was clear as day that the two cared for one another much more deeply than the superficiality they threw at one another in the shape of non covert once-overs and flirtatious banter, but it seemed that they were either too afraid to take the next step, or were just that oblivious of the intimacy they desired from one another.
“The adorable little minx hiding behind the refreshments, rocking the deer-in-the-headlights look, an ass you could bounce a coin off…” Minseok followed Jongin's wavering finger pointedly to a definitely off the market man, looking uncomfortable in tight trousers that did wonders to his thighs and a dark shirt button all the way up. He grinned as Kyungsoo stopped his hand abruptly from running through a painstakingly styled hairdo, instead grasping for another hors d’oeuvre.
“I'm afraid that arse is claimed.” And to divert attention elsewhere, “I overhead Jongdae and Junmyeon talking about adding another clause to the betting pool’s rules and regs… Chanyeol is anti-intervention, but he's outnumbered.” No better way to rile one than mentioning the other.
Leaving a confused yet determined Jongin to find the aforementioned CEO, Minseok ambles along to the bespectacled brunet’s side, leaning against the table.
Thoughtlessly, his hands come up to unfasten the top two buttons of Kyungsoo’s shirt, pausing to consider his actions, mentally shrugging then straightening his collar. All the while the younger man held still, eyes wide in surprise, but leaning forward into the touch, hunched shoulder relaxing finally. Minseok shares with him a small private smile, fingers paused at the hollow of his throat, before letting his arm drop.
“And how is our dear accountant fairing this evening?”
“Miserably, until a minute ago a handsome man walked up to me in a bespoke suit. I'm beginning to wonder if he'll get around to buying me a drink.” There was a twinkle in his eye that was missing the entire night and Minseok could only wonder how he'd missed it until now. He grinned.
“Presumptuous, aren't we?”
“Only because I'm sure my boyfriend wouldn't mind me being hit on by a someone as handsome as you.”
He let his grin slip into a sharp smirk, slowly tugging Kyungsoo so their side pressed against one another. Deft fingers cupped the young man's ass, earning him a cutoff yelp and a half hearted glare, softened by the way he leaned into Minseok’s touch.
“Oh, I'm sure he's absolutely seething with all sorts of uncontrollable urges.” Minseok brushed his lips over the shell of Kyungsoo's ear, relishing in the deliciously subtle shiver it earned.
“My eyes aren't the only pair on you this evening, sweetheart.”
Kyungsoo gave him an incredulous look, turning this way and that; and in so doing caught the eyes of many a middle aged men -some twice his age even- watching the two men with weakly hidden jealousy. Incredulity gave way to surprise, then to embarrassed pleasure. There was something in the way the man lacked awareness in his affect on others that endeared him to Minseok.
“Red is quite the colour on you,” he murmured, breaking through the cool front. Kyungsoo smiled up at him, eloquently raised brow jumping before a softer smile broke out, and he turned to peck the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you, your taste is impeccable as usual.” And of course Minseok would dress him up. If given half a chance he would raid the young man’s closet and rid it of all the plain, ratty shirts, suits a size too large or a tad too short, and ratty loafers he’d confessed to having since his freshman year in Uni. Kyungsoo wouldn’t know fashion if it hit him and sent him flying across the country.
The quiet chatter simmered down as the lights dimmed, focusing on Chanyeol. They applauded after he shook hands and toasts went around. The live band continued into a blue jazz number, couples were dragged onto the dance floor. He caught the hesitant hand Jongin extended to a hopeful, an unusually shy smile flickering at the corners of his lips as he allowed himself to be dragged into an uncoordinated two-step jig.
An hour later Minseok had his hands wrapped around a slim waist, nose buried behind Kyungsoo’s ear. His scent was equal parts tantalising, raising a heated buzz low in his belly, and calming, a stable scent of belonging that did more to cool his fraying nerves than the hard liquor he’d had earlier. A few older men and women came up to them and ignored the proprietary hands Minseok held his lover with, batting their lashes and lingering appreciative looks aimed at either or both men.
Kyungsoo turned his head slightly so that his mouth Minseok’s neck, eyes still closed and trusting him to lead, to take care of him if anything were to happen and Minseok nearly missed the murmured whisper beneath the suddenly overwhelming wave of fondness and love that line of thought brought; the smaller man was a wary person, a pessimist when it came to others who trusted no one but himself after years of conditioned ignorance to his own appearance…
“... head home?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Would you like to head home? You seem out of it tonight?”
“Maybe I’m just bothered by all the looks everyone keeps sending you.”
“I hardly think--”
“Kyungsoo.”
“Fine. But I wasn’t the only one with eyes following me. Don’t try to deny it.”
Minseok pulled his hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss to pale knuckles, forever grateful for this man and the events that lead them to this moment under low lights, slow dancing to ballroom music with eyes for none but the other.
“Let’s go home.”
His eyes met a warm slow smile, “Okay.”
Home.
-Fin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3K+
Warnings: None.
Summary: A love story in three snippets. (Or how Minseok found himself a lover on an unseasonably dreary day.)
[Authors Note]Author's Notes: Before this story can be told, the author must expressly explain a few things that may become confusing during the reading of the story. So, for the sake of your future mental health the author will say that due to Minseok and Kyungsoo's equally short stature, it was difficult to tell the difference without further confusion. They both have dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin, though Minseok tended to be more fashion forward with his wardrobe choices whilst Kyungsoo stuck to the more conservative stylized clothing. Do Kyungsoo wears glasses, and is quietly meek as accountants are expected to be (in his company specifically, his job description causes him to be overlooked sadly) while Kim Minseok’s silence felt more foreboding or aloof with his position of VP of Marketing in a high end business.
But really, you don't have to know any of that to follow the story. Do enjoy!
Unbeta-d. so beware mistakes!
Hands grappled for a hold on Minseok’s jacket, blunt but too conspicuous to be a pickpocket’s attempt in the confusion and chaos of a downtown university district. A hitch of breath and a nudge in the ribs was what gave him pause, and it took only that momentary lapse in motion to push the owner of those hands into him fully.
They were caught in a maelstrom of pedestrians on the bad end of rush hour, all eager to head home on a weeknight, or just leaving for an evening shift and anxious to reach their destination without delay. The crowd of multi-hued fashion tragedies and the practically-dressed pushed and shoved the fallen strangers until they were upright and intimately acquainted with one another's scents and body heat. They were cornered beneath a closed store-front’s sill, golden plate reading Moonlit Rooftops.
The air is too-warm and condensed between their bodies, moisture collecting at their temples and upper lips. Barely an inch apart they stood, one's back to the wall standing ramrod straight unable to pull away or turn his face for fear of brushing against the other. The conservative styled hair of the shorter was beginning to curl at his temples and behind his ringing ears, eyes wet and generous lips bruised, cheeks ruddy in the atypical heat of a mid-spring’s night. The taller of the two is holding his breath and exhaling in shallow bursts, light headed and unwilling to move for the moment.
The shorter’s hands are shaking, eyes swimming in bubbling blurs of reflective grey, opaque blacks and marine blues; his breath coming in purposefully deep and slow, lungs filled with the heady smoky scent of a foreign cologne. The taste of spice and bitter adrenaline coat the back of his tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth. There are red indents over the bridge of his nose, but no spectacles visible on his person.
The ever-changing omnipresent sky above breaks with a thunderous roil of strong wind and bright zings of light, forewarning to only moments later of a warm rainshower. Thus, the momentary bubble two strangers inadvertently had created bursts with a shuddering intake of breath.
Minseok shakes himself out of his stupor, caught by how rain rolled round cheeks and caught at the corner of full lips and clumped the man's lashes, and takes a step back. Apologies are stuck in his throat with unclear eyes trying for focus but missing just over his left shoulder, and a surprisingly sonorous tenor tells him somberly, “I can't see.”
“Pardon?”
The man opens his mouth, closes it, then opens again, words stubbornly stuck in his throat. He then bites his lower lip, a nervous agitated tick it seemed, and drops his gaze to Minseok’s chest, forgotten fingers loosening their hold on his cuff. Rain was steadily soaking through his suit, umbrella lost in the forray and the other’s dark shirt was sticking to his chest accentuating the slighter frame - that shook under his palms where they still hooked under his elbows.
“I can’t see,” comes the reply, mumbled as if it would be overlooked if said nonchalantly, in a jumble of short consonants.
Momentarily, the thought of eyes so largely expressive being unable to see brought a pang of inexplicable loss to Minseok’s chest, before he barred them away as a normal human reaction, and not the fact the man was appealing to his protective side (and his libido).
Before he could put in a word, and possibly crush any walls the man was erecting, someone pushed past them in a hurry nearly overbalancing the two into oncoming pedestrian traffic and to make matters worse, by evading them Minseok walked into the path of a biker, leaving the interaction with a litany of expletives from the driver and muddied trousers. Looking back at the man who looked a little bit like a browned mouse, he decided that he’d had enough of standing in the culminating downpour. So he cleared his throat and tapped the man’s elbow again to grab his attention.
“There’s a cafe a few stores down. I’m sure they won’t mind you borrowing a phone… ?”
“Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo fumbled for a hold against Minseok’s grasp before hesitantly taking a step beside him, eyes narrowing to squint and shift from side to side, thick brows furrowed in concentration. Tentatively taking the first step, he became steadier the quicker he realized his guide wouldn’t allow him to bump into anything or anyone until the bell above the cafe door jingled announcing their entrance.
“Minseok.”
The weeks after were a whirlwind of activity for the two, a courtship that left Minseok breathless and windmilling in its wake, or rather getting accustomed to the fast paced progression between Kyungsoo and himself and the way few before have brought out the caring paternal figure beneath his cool entrepreneurial veneer. There was something in the way the slight raven-head held himself, separate from everyone else and yet just close enough to seem commonplace among the commoners.
Over trips to the younger man’s favoured stops in downtown Chicago, (one incidentally being the same Minseok had led him to that rainy evening, which really went a ways in relaxing Kyungsoo. The manager was a childhood friend who’d given Minseok the stink eye upon seeing her friend mud-splattered, but then did a 180° when she was told of the incident earlier, mother-henning with warm drinks) he learnt of Kyungsoo’s intolerance to anything creamy or overly sweet, and conversely, his extreme tolerance to bullshit, facing vulgarity and replying in a swiftly but deadly manner with a straight face while never edging the line to tip beyond polite disinterest. It was amusing to watch a disgruntled, combobulated giant of a man walk away from a 5’4” accountant without leaving a bruised jaw at the least.
If a man twice his size came up to Minseok and started a bar fight because of his short stature or sexual afflictions, Minseok would either find himself locked up in a jail cell for the night cooling his heels, or nursing bruised ribs and a manic bloodied grin, high off endorphins and adrenaline.
He learned that Kyungsoo had been 90% blind for the larger part of his life, then at 18 an anonymous donor had gifted his parents coverage for the cost of the then-tentative operation that would lead to the innovation of ophthalmologic surgery worldwide, and of course Kyungsoo seeing no further harm in doing so had gone under the knife. The operation had not given him perfect vision per se but the result was better than hoped for; but, due to the requirements of his job (an accountant of all things) and the up-close use of electronic interfaces for over a decade lead to his return to near legal blindness by the time he reached the spectrum of his thirties.
He also learned that, living without reliance on vision, the man was extremely dextrous tipping into devious when Minseok tugged him away from work for a date night at home, ending with wine-stained lips bruised and bitten and a lapful of flexible, delectable male rolling into him with hands so deeply buried in his hair he would imagine no better home for them.
Kyungsoo was wont to indulge (not that Minseok was disgruntled by it; quite the contrary) in lasting swipes of tongue silkily against his and suckling at Minseok’s lips to the point of oversensitivity, hearts thudding wildly in contrast to the sedate pace and air of finality.
They would then sit for as long as they could be willing with Kyungsoo in Minseok’s lap, foreheads buried in dips of necks and shoulders until their bodies’ impulse to hump like teenagers in hormonal heat was sedated enough to finish the movie they were not-watching, then bid each other goodnight. After which Minseok would lock himself in his bedroom and fuck his hand to completion, the imprint of Kyungsoo's body writhing over him pushing him closer and closer to an unsatisfactory orgasm. He would then lay in bed and wonder if pushing the small man out of his comfort zone would be too abrupt at this point.
And as such their tenuous courtship listed over to dating territory, something neither of them seemed predisposed to acknowledge or truly give voice to at the present time.
Life continued as if nothing had changed, and yet there was something sweeter in the air, a headier sense of anticipation when the clock struck ten ending a long day’s work. Something more satisfactory than seeing an end to the seemingly endless pile of paperwork on his desk, each man sifted through voicemails and reminders, shuffled even more papers into briefcases on different blocks of the Chicagoan business district, both leaving a cubicle and office respectively with a soft sigh of relief. Coworkers called out jestingly envious jeers and congratulatory well-wishes for being able to leave this early on a weekday, so close to the new year’s celebrations.
Of course the gossip mill had run its course to see who had caught the eyes of their aloof Vice President of marketing, though they were no closer to figuring out who it could be than Minseok’s closest friends who loved nothing more than to poke their noses into his private affairs. Chanyeol catches up with him at the lifts, just as Minseok slips off his tie to stuff into his pocket. The doors slide shut with a ding and the lurch of their stomachs stipulating their descent.
The lanky CEO clutches at his midriff, greening round the gills, “I hate elevators.”
“No one’s asked you to follow me around, Chanyeol.”
“I wouldn’t be following you around, giving myself up to the discomforts of gravity, if you’d tell me who’s been keeping you away from all the extra shifts you usually take.”
“It’s your persistence that’s always caused you discomfort -case in point, you being in this elevator when I know you aren’t due to leave til midnight- and though it’s admirable when it comes to your father’s company… Your interest in my personal business is very much not.”
“What private business? Your life is entirely comprised of publicly arousing people’s interests in our company’s business while I laze around in my office playing Angry Bird all day with Jongdae hounding my ass to sign this paper or that. Dad thinks the sun shines out of your ass, and it very well might with the way your ice cold temper is. All those reflective surfaces.” He threw in a Jack Sparrow-esque finger wiggle, nose scrunched up comically. And to think they were a bare two years apart.
Minseok gives his friend an amused grin before stepping out of the lift with a reserved wave and a quietly amused, “Goodnight, Chanyeol.”
The weather had turned for the worse, though nothing unusual to the Windy City. Snow dusted everything in a spread of white as far as the eye can see, smog turning to fog in a wintry whirl tinted ruby and emerald in the festive colours of near-ending celebrations. Minseok wrapped himself up in a grey-speckled tweed coat and hailed a cab home.
He lived an hour outside of Chicago in an older suburban area where there were more family vans lining driveways than the bright sports cars of the retired and rich; old houses renovated to withhold the harsh snowstorms the state was accustomed to. There were still bikes thrown out in neighbor’s lawns, basketball hoops standing beneath barren trees and the twinkling remnants of a festive Christmas hanging off porches and windows.
As the taxi pulled up to the house, he saw Kyungsoo’s compact Fiat idling in his driveway, the light of what must’ve been his phone glancing off the glass of his spectacles. He looked flushed in the heat of the car, forehead creased and ruddy lips sucked in concentration; he’d let his hair grow out since they’d first met, now brushing his lashes as he swept a gloved finger to push it out of his eyes.
His phone vibrated as Kyungsoo caught him looking, flashing him a shyly devious smirk before cutting the engine. The taxi driver cleared his throat, and flustered, Minseok paid and watched the car leave, headlights bright in the otherwise quiet dark of his neighborhood. He turned back to the Fiat and saw that Kyungsoo had walked ahead and was waiting at the front door, toying with the extra length of his powder blue scarf.
Minseok’s stomach fluttered and tightened in the foretaste of what was to come of the night.
Before the raven-head could form words beyond a husky “Hey” Minseok caught tempting lips with his own, pressing flush against a suddenly pliant body, the taste and scent of peppermint chocolate overwhelming him with the desire to lick the taste of it from this man’s mouth until only the essence of Kyungsoo remained.
It was miraculous how the two found themselves inside the house at all, never mind finding the living room lounge. Then they were shedding extra layers that came with the turn of the seasons. Minseok and Kyungsoo watched one another as one then the other disrobed, revealing creamy pale skin beneath low hung sweater necks, blotched in a growing smear of red arousal rising from their chests to the apples of their cheeks.
The sheets were on the floor, room a haze of sex and heat, no sound but the slow deep breaths of afterglow. There were trousers pooled in the doorway, ties and jackets on the living room couch, and a single sock haphazardly hanging off a lamp, swinging still. Two men lay in bed, too warm for anything more than an arm's-width of distance between cooling bodies, but legs tangled together nevertheless. The clock ticked in the corner of the room, loud in the silence of the night, underlied by the slow intakes of air tugging them into a half-sleeping state.
Kyungsoo tugged his arm out from where it was crushed beneath Minseok’s flank, stretching to reach his glasses. His lover watched him with adoration, rolling onto his side to pull the man flush to his chest, rumbling happily when Kyungsoo leaned in for a lazy, languid kiss.
---
“God, what I wouldn't do to get a piece of that,” Jongin emphasized emphatically with a drunken whirl of a hand- the same hand holding a refilled glass of whatever was on tap.
They were at an after-party, mixing with new employees and acquaintances having finally gotten the okay and their two companies merged to be the leading brand of the business. Minseok had left Chanyeol to kissass and get the dirt on their newest Chief of Staff, leaving him with a group of inebriated underlings and one tipsy secretary getting too much attention and too little guarding if Chanyeol’s stink-eye were to be taken under consideration.
“And what exactly is that?” he replied calmly, running his thumb along the lip of his glass slowly. He was rather amused by the cat and mouse chase his friends continued to pursue; it was clear as day that the two cared for one another much more deeply than the superficiality they threw at one another in the shape of non covert once-overs and flirtatious banter, but it seemed that they were either too afraid to take the next step, or were just that oblivious of the intimacy they desired from one another.
“The adorable little minx hiding behind the refreshments, rocking the deer-in-the-headlights look, an ass you could bounce a coin off…” Minseok followed Jongin's wavering finger pointedly to a definitely off the market man, looking uncomfortable in tight trousers that did wonders to his thighs and a dark shirt button all the way up. He grinned as Kyungsoo stopped his hand abruptly from running through a painstakingly styled hairdo, instead grasping for another hors d’oeuvre.
“I'm afraid that arse is claimed.” And to divert attention elsewhere, “I overhead Jongdae and Junmyeon talking about adding another clause to the betting pool’s rules and regs… Chanyeol is anti-intervention, but he's outnumbered.” No better way to rile one than mentioning the other.
Leaving a confused yet determined Jongin to find the aforementioned CEO, Minseok ambles along to the bespectacled brunet’s side, leaning against the table.
Thoughtlessly, his hands come up to unfasten the top two buttons of Kyungsoo’s shirt, pausing to consider his actions, mentally shrugging then straightening his collar. All the while the younger man held still, eyes wide in surprise, but leaning forward into the touch, hunched shoulder relaxing finally. Minseok shares with him a small private smile, fingers paused at the hollow of his throat, before letting his arm drop.
“And how is our dear accountant fairing this evening?”
“Miserably, until a minute ago a handsome man walked up to me in a bespoke suit. I'm beginning to wonder if he'll get around to buying me a drink.” There was a twinkle in his eye that was missing the entire night and Minseok could only wonder how he'd missed it until now. He grinned.
“Presumptuous, aren't we?”
“Only because I'm sure my boyfriend wouldn't mind me being hit on by a someone as handsome as you.”
He let his grin slip into a sharp smirk, slowly tugging Kyungsoo so their side pressed against one another. Deft fingers cupped the young man's ass, earning him a cutoff yelp and a half hearted glare, softened by the way he leaned into Minseok’s touch.
“Oh, I'm sure he's absolutely seething with all sorts of uncontrollable urges.” Minseok brushed his lips over the shell of Kyungsoo's ear, relishing in the deliciously subtle shiver it earned.
“My eyes aren't the only pair on you this evening, sweetheart.”
Kyungsoo gave him an incredulous look, turning this way and that; and in so doing caught the eyes of many a middle aged men -some twice his age even- watching the two men with weakly hidden jealousy. Incredulity gave way to surprise, then to embarrassed pleasure. There was something in the way the man lacked awareness in his affect on others that endeared him to Minseok.
“Red is quite the colour on you,” he murmured, breaking through the cool front. Kyungsoo smiled up at him, eloquently raised brow jumping before a softer smile broke out, and he turned to peck the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you, your taste is impeccable as usual.” And of course Minseok would dress him up. If given half a chance he would raid the young man’s closet and rid it of all the plain, ratty shirts, suits a size too large or a tad too short, and ratty loafers he’d confessed to having since his freshman year in Uni. Kyungsoo wouldn’t know fashion if it hit him and sent him flying across the country.
The quiet chatter simmered down as the lights dimmed, focusing on Chanyeol. They applauded after he shook hands and toasts went around. The live band continued into a blue jazz number, couples were dragged onto the dance floor. He caught the hesitant hand Jongin extended to a hopeful, an unusually shy smile flickering at the corners of his lips as he allowed himself to be dragged into an uncoordinated two-step jig.
An hour later Minseok had his hands wrapped around a slim waist, nose buried behind Kyungsoo’s ear. His scent was equal parts tantalising, raising a heated buzz low in his belly, and calming, a stable scent of belonging that did more to cool his fraying nerves than the hard liquor he’d had earlier. A few older men and women came up to them and ignored the proprietary hands Minseok held his lover with, batting their lashes and lingering appreciative looks aimed at either or both men.
Kyungsoo turned his head slightly so that his mouth Minseok’s neck, eyes still closed and trusting him to lead, to take care of him if anything were to happen and Minseok nearly missed the murmured whisper beneath the suddenly overwhelming wave of fondness and love that line of thought brought; the smaller man was a wary person, a pessimist when it came to others who trusted no one but himself after years of conditioned ignorance to his own appearance…
“... head home?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Would you like to head home? You seem out of it tonight?”
“Maybe I’m just bothered by all the looks everyone keeps sending you.”
“I hardly think--”
“Kyungsoo.”
“Fine. But I wasn’t the only one with eyes following me. Don’t try to deny it.”
Minseok pulled his hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss to pale knuckles, forever grateful for this man and the events that lead them to this moment under low lights, slow dancing to ballroom music with eyes for none but the other.
“Let’s go home.”
His eyes met a warm slow smile, “Okay.”
Home.
-Fin