Along For The Ride - 1/?
Title : Along for the Ride
Pairings : 2min, Minkey, (maybe) Jongtae
Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slight (if any) Smut
Rating : M for language and possible smut
Word Count : in progress
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He shouldn’t have answered the phone.
Taemin took a slow drag of the diminished cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger. The smoke blew ruggedly from his slightly chapped lips as he ran the fingers of his free hand through his short, candy-apple red hair. He looked up at the building he stood in front of, Minho’s building, and immediately spotted his window.
It was opened a little, the navy blue curtain fluttering against the cool autumn wind. If he concentrated, he could just hear the murmur of the sportscaster on his TV. He didn’t have to know what sport was playing, but there would be some over-exaggerating announcer detailing the games like the world depended on it. He knew. Minho rarely ever watched something non-sports related.
He put the head up to his lips once more before throwing the butt to the ground and stomping out the ashes. He rang the bell, 407, and not a whole minute later he was allowed entrance by the ‘buzz’ of the door. He decided to take the elevator over the stairs like he’d usually do in hopes of prolonging the trip if only by mere seconds.
Before this, maybe thirty minutes ago, he was on the other side of town in the library a few blocks away from his ratty old apartment working on a first draft of his midterm paper due next week. He had been writing down fact after fact about the economy of Korea fifty years ago versus today when his phone vibrated loudly against the table, disturbing ears of close proximity. He’d tried ignoring it, but before he could put the device on silent it vibrated again, showing an incoming call from the man he’s never rejected a call of. It was something in the way Minho had demanded for him to come over that lured him to take the hour bus ride to the elder’s condo.
And here he was, standing in front of door 407-a door he’d spent most of his fondest memories on the other side of-knocking on the door softly with his knuckles. He’d heard the footsteps coming closer and soon the door was lurched open and he was snatched forward only to land hard against the wall of toned body otherwise known as Choi Minho. He faintly heard the door slam shut behind him as he was pressed against the door with Minho’s lips ravishing his own.
“What have I told you about smoking?” Minho growled against the red head’s lips before prying them open with his tongue. “You taste like a fucking ash tray.”
He knew he did. That’s part of the reason why he’d stood outside for fifteen minutes, to let the chemicals sink into his clothes, his skin, his everything. He knew Minho hated it. And he knew Minho knew he knew he hated it. He also knew the lengths that the elder would go through to show Taemin just how much he hated it. That thought sent chills down his spine.
“Will it make you love me if I stop?” his eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of warm lips trailing down his neck and quick hands ripping him out of his jacket.
“Not on your life,” Minho replied without so much as a hint of remorse or hesitation.
“Then whether or not I smoke hasn’t shit to do with you,” Taemin groaned when Minho’s hand found its way to the steady growing tent of his pants and began roughly massaging it.
“Those are some big words, Taemin-ah,” he chuckled at the younger’s expressions and continued kneading the tent. Taemin was rendered speechless under his touch, at least until things got heavier.
“Ah!…fuck you.”
Minho smirked and pushed the younger over to the couch. Finally regaining some of the senses in his brain, Taemin pushed Minho down on the couch and quickly removed his shirt before climbing into his lap. He rolled his hips, grinding slowly and creating a delicious friction between the two. He smiled inwardly as Minho grunted under him. He had never been allowed this much control before, and silently prayed he could distract Minho enough to get in a little foreplay. To the elder, removing the pesky details of clothes was foreplay enough.
“Pants. Off…now,” Minho tugged at the waistband of Taemin’s jeans, eyeing the offensive material with a hard glare. Taemin stood and shimmied out of his pants, kicking them over to some corner forgotten. Minho grabbed his thin arm before he could reclaim his lap and turned so he was hovering over the lithe boy.
“You, too,” Taemin choked out between pants and moans and gasps caused by Minho’s calloused fingers wrapping around his length, sending another delicious tingle up and down his now bare spine. He heard Minho chuckle and his already firm grip tightened even more. Taemin’s eyes pinched shut and his hands fisted his own hair helplessly as a thumb torturously rubbed past the outer skin onto the sensitiveness of his slit. “Fuck!”
Minho knew his weak spots. He knew what to do to his body to make him buckle into nothingness with just a simple touch. And he loved every moment of it.
Minho pulled out a small bottle from under the couch and quickly dropped his own pants. Taemin whimpered at the loss, rising up on his elbows to stare up at Minho as he lathered himself with lube. He didn’t have the energy to question how the elder was already hard without even being touched, nor did he question why he hadn’t blown the elder before the lube. He didn’t even ask why Minho was now turning him over onto his stomach. It was a common position they frequented often.
“Ah!” Taemin let out a silent scream as Minho rammed himself into his throbbing, unexpected hole. He reached out for the couch’s armrest and clutched it with each thrust. Eyes half lidded, mouth agape he felt Minho’s power in the pit of his stomach. Each consecutive thrust was stronger than the last. His one hand gripped the younger’s waist, fingers pressing painfully into his hipbone while the other hand pinched and prodded ad the sensitive pink nubs on his chest. Taemin could all but hear Minho growling. He was angry, and Taemin could feel it all.
He felt it on the couch and on the floor and on the rug and against the wall by the window he’d looked up at earlier and back on the couch. He felt Minho’s large hand pumping him quicker than his sanity could stand. He felt the heat from Minho’s chest on his back despite him still having his shirt on. He felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up each time Minho came inside of him. And in those blissful moments, he felt loved.
“He had to work.”
Minho sat languidly on his couch as Taemin retrieved his clothes from the corners of the living room. Taemin hadn’t remembered asking any questions, not that the other needed a reason to speak. It was usually after sex Taemin found Minho most loose-lipped. He’d be still basking in the after sex feeling more than half the time.
“What?”
“Kibum.” And right there, all the previous love Taemin thought he felt vanished. It only took a second and one name from Minho’s lips to bring Taemin’s world crashing down. “He was called in to work. We were supposed to go to the movies.”
So you called me over to take it out on me, Taemin thought chuckling silently to himself.
“So, how about we go?”
Taemin’s head snapped over to Minho’s calm figure sprawled over the couch. “W..what?” Minho glanced up at him. “Really?”
Minho shrugged and nodded. “I already bought the tickets and don’t want to waste them.” Taemin bit his lip, trying to contain himself. “Go take a shower. We can go after you’re done.” He got up and went to the kitchen. Taemin stared after him for a few moments before grabbing his shirt off the tv and hurrying to the bathroom.
He was showered and dressed back in the clothes he came in, thankful he had time to dispose of his clothes before things got to out of hand with Minho, and was making his way back to the front. He found himself smiling. He and Minho had been messing around for a little over a year. He wouldn’t call it dating, though he’d very much like to. In reality, they’d never gone on a date that didn’t include other friends or that didn’t end in sex. Not to mention the rare times they did go out to eat after or before sex it was Taemin that initiated it. So for Minho to have offered and asked Taemin to go to the movies with him, he was not about to turn it down.
And then he heard laughter from the kitchen. Laughter from Minho and someone else. Someone he knew very well. He stepped through the threshold, making his presence known to his giggling Kibum hyung and the wide smiling Minho.
“Taemin-ah?” Kibum’s smile brightened seeing Taemin’s face. “What are you doing here?” he walked over to Taemin with his arms opened and embraced the younger.
“Hey, hyung,” he smiled. “I didn’t hear the bell. When’d you get here?”
“Ah, that’s because I used my key,” he held up the set in his hand before palming them back to his pocket. “But I’ve been here for about ten minutes or so.”
“Yea,” Minho’s smiling face turned to Taemin with a hint of something evident. “Apparently they didn’t need him at work today. So now he can go to the movie. So are you ready to go? Our movie starts soon.” Ah, that’s it. Now that Kibum was here and available Taemin’s services were no longer needed.
Taemin chuckled on the inside at his luck. Here he was happy to finally be going on a date with a willing Minho when it was snatched away quicker than it came. “Neh. Sure, hyung.”
“Wait,” Kibum looked back and forth between Taemin and Minho. “Did you two have plans? Is that why you’re over here? Because I can always hang with you another time, Minho.”
Taemin was already making his way back to the living room to locate his shoes when Minho replied. “No, hyung. It’s not like that. I had just…just…” Taemin rolled his eyes as he put his shoes on. Minho had never been good at lying to their hyung. “I did invite Taemin-ah to the movies. But then you came, so he doesn’t have anymore reason to go.”
“Minho-yah, it’s not good to break promises like that,” Kibum scolded, disappointment evident from the other room.
Once he finished tying his laces Taemin stood up and grabbed his jacket from the floor. He stuffed one arm after another in as he entered the kitchen. “What promise, hyung? He asked me as a spur of the moment. Besides, I have a paper that needs to be finished soon. I’ve spent too much time putting it off already. You guys have fun.”
Taemin felt Kibum watching him as the he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out. He dug through his pockets in search of his lighter as he headed for the door.
“Taemin-ah.” He turned and saw Kibum with a frown, and Minho behind him with an impatient look. He was waiting for the youngest to leave so he could be alone with Kibum. Just looking at Minho’s expression as he looked at Kibum hurt. He wondered why it wasn’t him that Minho looked at like that. He wanted to know what it was about Kibum that Minho loved. He wanted to know why Minho refused to return his love and instead chose to pine after their hyung.
Actually, no. He didn’t want to know. He was perfectly content with the way things were now. He liked not knowing what exactly it was that fascinated Minho about Kibum. It hurt a lot less to not know details.
“Yeah, hyung?”
“You should really quit smoking. It’s bad for your health,” Kibum warned, eyeing his youngest friend as he held the death stick with expertise.
Taemin gave a tired smile and shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, hyung. I can handle anything.” He closed the door behind him and took the stairs down. Once outside, the cool breeze slapped against his face, hard. Kibum had a key to Minho’s place. His own brother didn’t even have a key, but he gave Kibum one. Taemin shook his head and pulled out his lighter. He lit the butt of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the intoxicants filled his lungs. His feet shuffled slowly toward the bus stop that would take him back to his end of town. His mind was tired and his heart was heavy, both with the same feeling.
He really shouldn’t have answered that call.