The Fortune of Friday → for sarawt
Title: The Fortune of Friday
Recipient: sarawt
Pairing: Xiumin/Sehun
Rating: nc17
Word count: 4,700
Summary: The arrival of a new houseguest gives Minseok an even greater reason to look forward to the end of the work week.
He doesn’t make it home before it starts to rain.
Thin purple clouds wring themselves dry, a late-Spring shower to speckle the faces of old stone buildings cast in sunset hues. It was warm in the office today and the rain is cool on his skin, so Minseok slows his pace, lingers on street corners even when the light is red. He dips into the café on the next block to grab a muffin instead, lemon poppy seed, moist cake that crumbles soft between his teeth. He nibbles on it a bit as he hurtles down the stairs to the subway, tiny black seeds dotting the line of his gums.
He rides the train down and then across, hip-checking equally weary strangers each time the tin car jerks to a stop, muffin now squished and forgotten at the bottom of the briefcase he keeps wedged between his feet. He’s distracted, sucking his teeth and thinking of chicken delivery as he hops up the stairs at Clinton Ave, forgets about the rain until he’s jogging out into it, a deluge of rainwater soaking right through his white dress shirt.
“Shit,” he mutters, and sets off down the block, ducking beneath awnings.
Minseok rounds the corner to his street and the familiar brownstones that line the sidewalk are dark and damp, the clouds overhead bloated and thick with the promise of more wet weather. The adobe brick of his own building looks horribly muddied but it’s a welcome sight, and Minseok nearly trips over himself getting inside.
“This weather,” he calls out loudly, one hand braced against the wall as he bends to slip off his loafers. “Ridiculous. Came out of nowhere!”
Minseok pads into the the entryway, socked feet sliding quickly on even wood panels, and drops his briefcase in the corner by the umbrella stand.
“Luhan?” Minseok peers into the kitchen, where his flatmate can usually be found stocking Friday take-homes from work in the fridge but-it’s empty. The track lights on the ceiling are on but, upon further inspection, the fridge is lacking its usual variety of perennial brews. Even so, Minseok takes a plain lager from the door on his way out.
“Luhan?” he calls again as he wanders to the adjacent room, mouth of the bottle pressed to his lips. “Are you home-” Minseok loses his footing in the doorway to the living room, apprehension catching him off guard, gooseflesh rising over his skin in waves.
Squeezed into the corner is Minseok’s favorite fat leather Lazyboy. In it sits a stranger.
“Who are you?”
The lighting in the living room is dim but the summer sun has yet to fall, and so light from the bay window settles around the intruder’s head in a halo of pale yellow. The stranger takes up a lot of room in the chair, Minseok notes, fingers tightening around the neck of his beer bottle. But their limbs are thin, young-looking, too lanky. A better look, and he realizes their hair is actually just pale yellow. Kids, Minseok thinks derisively, edging through the doorway.
“Who are you?” is the answering question. A thin voice around a thick tongue, slightly husky. Equal parts defensive and uneasy through awkwardly lilting English.
It’s confusing more than it is rude, and Minseok bristles. “I don’t know who you are kid, but you need to get the fuck out of my house.” He frowns when the boy blinks at him.
“Your... house?” The boy squints and his mouth drops open, but he makes no move to get out of the recliner.
“Yes, my house.” Minseok forgets that his shirt is still sodden until it starts clinging to his body as he tenses. “You done?” he snaps, one eyebrow raised. “Because if you are, I’m calling the cops. This is ridiculous. The second time in six months! Luhan needs to stop leaving the fucking door unlocked, he’s lucky we-”
There is a bellow of “Yoooo yo yo,” and suddenly the roommate in question is careening down the stairs, hopping up to slide down the bannister when he reaches halfway. The railing had been recently polished. It squeaks beneath his ass as he glides down. He’s in sweats and there’s a towel around his neck, wet hair curling against the terrycloth. “Oh! So you two met already,” he says beaming, the shine of his teeth cutting right through the tension in the air. He moves across the room quickly. “Good!”
“Oh.” Minseok chokes, voice high with disbelief, “Luhan, I swear. If this is another one of your-”
“I-” The boy stands up but is pulled back by Luhan’s hand around his bicep.
“Minseok! This is my cousin, he just flew in from Seoul,” Luhan says around a laugh before turning to the boy beside him. “Greet him,” he hisses, slapping the kid’s back. “You can do it in Korean, if you want. Be polite.”
The kid’s eyes widen briefly and he sweeps them down Minseok’s body before bowing slightly. He licks his lips as he stands straight, and he’s a lot taller than he’d seemed, stretching a good length above Luhan’s head. He has a perfect, high nose and a heavyset brow, and Minseok stares.
“Uh, hello. I’m Sehun. Nice to meet you. Thank you for giving-thank you for letting me live with you.”
Sehun’s English is halting but definitely understandable. It’s not what has Minseok is so confused.
“People say we look alike, but we’re only cousins through marriage ‘cause my mom-what?” Luhan asks, smile sliding off his face as he looks across to his roommate. He pouts. “Why? You have that face on.”
“Face?” Minseok asks breathlessly, cheeks reddening along with his vision. The kid’s words are a hideous echo in his ears, an speeding spiral that stiffens his spine. Thank you for letting me live with you, thank you for letting me live with you letting me live with you thankyouforlettingme live with you- “What face.”
Luhan chuckles uneasily. “I like to call it the What The Fuck Have You Done, Luhan™ face? You know, the one that looks vaguely murderous but underneath is actually super loving and like, full of love. For me.”
Minseok swallows dry a few times before taking a long swig of beer. And then another. He drains the bottle. When he’s finished he sighs, places the empty glass on the TV stand.
“So,” he starts, clasping his hands together in front of him. His eyes turn up as a menacing smile blooms across his face, upper lip peeling back over high gums. “You have a cousin!”
“Wait, okay,” Luhan starts, hands held up in front of him. He pauses, and then shrinks behind his cousin’s tall frame. “I could’ve sworn I told you!”
“Hm, no.”
“Okay but Sehun’s really quiet. Right, Sehun?” He nudges the kid, jostles him around and waits until Sehun nods before continuing. “You won’t even notice he’s here!”
“And how long?” Minseok asks, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How long will your cousin be staying with us?”
“Not even that long!” Luhan placates earnestly. “Just like-” he starts counting off on his fingers and blanches when he sees Minseok’s glare. “A little while,” he finishes weakly.
“I can-will get a job,” Sehun interrupts, voice ringing earnest, forehead rumpled as he tries to follow their conversation.
“Urgh, no that’s not even-don’t bother,” Minseok replies in Korean, and feels awkward immediately afterwards when he sees Sehun’s forehead wrinkle, a defeated slump curving his broad shoulders. He shouldn’t take it out on the kid, it’s not Sehun’s fault his cousin is such a-
Shaking his head, Minseok turns to Luhan. “He can stay in the guest bedroom.”
Luhan zips to his side, pulls Minseok into a swift bro-hug. “See! I knew you’d do the right thing. It’ll be great, just wait. We can show him all over and take him to all the best spots.”
I’m not a tour guide, Minseok thinks tersely, shrugging out of Luhan’s hold. “I’m not a tour guide,” he grumbles out loud, but his face has relaxed some, and sends Luhan’s cousin what he hopes is an encouraging smile.
“Dude, you’re the best,” Luhan continues, flinging his body back on top of his friend’s. “Sehun!” he tosses a look back of his shoulder to where his cousin stands, mostly confused, on the other side of the low coffee table. “Sehun you’re gonna love him, you guys are gonna get along great!” Then he peels himself away, looks down again.
Minseok’s nostrils flare at the wolf whistle he hears, and he grinds his teeth in embarrassment when he sees how his shirt is translucent and plastered to his torso.
Luhan snickers and pinches Minseok’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Wet t-shirt concert at the office today?”
“Casual Friday,” Minseok says blandly, dismissively, and shuffles off to his bedroom. He needs another drink, but first a change of clothes.
“You’re seriously the best, Minseok! Don’t know what I’d do without you!” Luhan hollers after him, dragging his cousin over and pulling him into a loose headlock. To his cousin he says, “Minseok hates surprises but you came on a good day-thank God it’s a Friday, seriously.” He gives Sehun a once-over. “Plus you’re lucky you’re handsome.”
ϟ
It's awkward at first. Suddenly there's an extra body orbiting the kitchen island in the mornings, another mouth to feed. There's more laundry in the hamper-boxers dotted with sweet green shamrocks and a pair of small briefs with bluebirds warbling into the folds, and Minseok doesn't think that at any point in his own life has there been such an array of colors printed so near his crotch. There's a third toothbrush, moody orange with a ribbed spot for the thumb, upright in the cup by the sink, frayed bristles kissing the edge.
However Sehun, true to his cousin's word, is quiet as a mouse. Minseok isn’t sure if it’s because Sehun’s general demeanor is sheepish (he doesn’t think so; he’s heard Sehun jabbering away on the phone, words quick and biting and dirty; he’s felt Sehun’s gaze on him, piercing and judgemental) or perhaps the boy’s just uncomfortable in his new home, but supposes it isn’t really any of his business. And the kid’s attractive, sure-good-looking in a way that leaves Minseok grudgingly scatterbrained-but he’s still just a kid. Oily cream skin with spots and the earnest shadow of hair above an upper lip pursed in perpetual disdain. Plus Minseok hardly sees him during the week anyway, his Monday-through-Thursday a rather colorless affair.
But when Minseok comes home every Friday, shoulders tight from a long week and head hanging heavy, it’s always to find Sehun dressed in loose clothing and those rainbow socks with the individual toes, leaning back against a kitchen counter and munching on gochu peppers. He fields Minseok's uninspired inquiries about his school, his studies, his home with a look of polite disinterest, but Minseok gets the feeling Sehun appreciates the conversation.
"Summer classes start in two weeks," Sehun's saying, Korean fast on his tongue, tone bland but words rounded over the food in his mouth.
Minseok hums, opens and closes and opens the fridge door with the hope that dinner will miraculously appear. "Luhan said at Pratt, right? What are you studying while you're here?"
"Um. Well actually I-"
"Excuse me," says Luhan loudly, rudely, sweeping into the kitchen just as he sweeps his bangs up into a tiny bun. "What did we agree on the other night, Sehun?"
Sehun face pulls down gloomily. "English at home."
Luhan’s eyebrows arc in a pitying way. "Just trying to help you out, man. It'll be worth it in the long run. You'll be fluent in no time.
"But why can't I-just with Minseok-hyung-"
"Total emersion!" Luhan crowes. "It's all or nothing.” He hums a tune, peeks over Minseok’s shoulder into the empty refrigerator. “All Or Nothing. Hey, isn't that a song?"
“You’re thinking of Bet On It,” Sehun replies easily, voice haughty. The queer look Minseok shoots him has Sehun ducking his head.
“Uh High School Musical 2, Minseok,” Luhan snaps, slapping his roommate on the back. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve seen it, Cali boy. You’re no better than the rest of us.”
"I-” Minseok stops. “At least let him call me hyung.”
“Thank you, um. Hyung,” says Sehun quietly, almost to himself, while they walk side-by-side on their way back from picking up dinner.
Minseok shoves his hands into his pockets and watches the busy pendulum swinging of Sehun’s arms, yellow takeout bag handles crinkling in each fist. “You can speak Korean if Luhan’s not around,” he says eventually, eyes twinkling. “I won’t tell.”
“No, it’s okay. I should uhmmm. Practice.”
Minseok says, around a proud grin, “Well I’m here if you need help.”
ϟ
“So,” Minseok begins, popping lids off of the takeaway containers. Another Friday, another home-cooked, white-picket-fence family dinner. “What was it you said you major in, Sehun?”
Freshly showered, Minseok’s bangs press wetly to his forehead and his tank is slightly clingy, but he feels significantly more relaxed, a harried afternoon bleeding into a slow evening. Across from him Luhan’s settled into his usual dining posture, foot planted on the seat of the chair and elbow resting atop a bent knee as he shovels rice into his gullet straight from the box. Minseok regards Luhan through squinted eyes when the other burps mid-reach for more chicken, greedy pale fingers crawling through the air.
“Did you not eat today?”
Luhan shakes his head, teeth sinking into white meat. “Nah.” Food garbles his voice, and he jerks a greasy chin up as sauce spills down. “Busy day. T-G-I-F.”
“T-G-I-F?” Sehun questions, sliding his takeout chopsticks out of their paper sleeve. He grimaces when they snap apart unevenly.
Minseok opens his mouth to reply but then pauses, wordlessly gets up to retrieve a stainless steel pair from the cup by the sink. He waves away Sehun’s thanks.
“Thank God It’s Friday,” Luhan answers, wiping his entire face down with a napkin (better safe than sorry).
“Ah.” Sehun nods to himself. “Because now you can go crazy? Bulgeum?”
That has Minseok chuckling, teeth bright in his smile. “No, not quite Fire Friday. Not anymore, at least.”
Luhan snorts, points his chopsticks rudely in Minseok’s direction. “You shoulda seen him in his prime-”
“Nope,” Minseok interrupts swiftly. “We’re not going there.”
After a bite of silence Sehun says, “Photography.”
“Huh?”
“I’m here to study photography. I think I want to change schools?”
“Oh, you’re looking to transfer?” Minseok asks, slightly surprised. He looks across the table to where Luhan’s looking determinedly down at his own plate. “Long term?”
Sehun looks puzzled. “Long term?”
“Minseok went to Pratt too, ya’know,” Luhan says suddenly, too loud for the kitchen. “Isn’t that right?”
Long term. Minseok can feel the weight of Sehun’s stare and so he turns to face him. “Mhm. Graduate school. Urban design.”
Sehun fiddles with his chopsticks. “What do you do now?”
“I work at a firm in Manhattan.”
“Is it difficult?” He sounds almost worried.
“I do mostly interiors-rethinking existing spaces and the urban landscape on a more immediate level. Because everyone knows New York doesn’t need another building.” His lips pull up at the corners, a fledgling smile at Sehun’s blank look. “Uhm, but difficult isn’t the right word. I’m not sure what is, but it’s definitely rewarding.”
“Oh.” Sehun’s expression grows from indifferent to impressed as he pieces it together. “Ohh. Hyung, that’s really cool.”
Minseok feels himself flush for some reason, heat building on the back of his neck and clogging his ears. He shrugs. “It’s a job.”
Luhan looks between them carefully and then says to his roommate, “You’re too modest.” He turns to his cousin, drumstick dangling from two fingers. “Minseok’s like, the best of the best. I mean, hell-oooo, have you seen our home?” He waves a hand around his head to indicate the brownstone’s sprawling, modern interior, as though Sehun had only arrived just today and not three weeks prior.
Sehun’s eyes widen. “You made this?”
Minseok sends Luhan a fast glare. “Just touched up some things here-and-there-”
“Stop lying,” Luhan whines, “it was forever until we could move in. You had to make sure everything was perfect-”
“Well it is, isn’t it?” Minseok replies, one eyebrow arched cooly. “Sehun you should go with Luhan to work one day. Now that’s a cool job.”
Sehun looks slightly lost, pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Uh?”
“You haven’t brought him yet?” Minseok tsks. “And here you were saying how you were going to bring him around to all the hot spots.”
“Heyyyy, I’ve taken him to lots of places! Sunday we walked the bridge-oh and Wednesday we went to MoSex.” Luhan scratches his chin thoughtfully. “But coming to the brewery? Mmm, how about tomorrow? No. Hmm, next week? Next Friday? I’ve got the late shift then."
Minseok doesn't realize he's supposed to reply until it goes quiet, two pairs of beseeching eyes locked onto his face. He says, "What?"
"So you'll bring him by?" Luhan asks innocently, scooping up the last of his rice.
"Me?” He glances quickly in Sehun’s direction. “I... um?" Slowly, daydreams of a quiet Friday night dissipate like blue smoke from a fire.
It's not a direct no, and Luhan knows Minseok is courteous to a fault, so he pounces. "Awesome. Come through around ten?"
Minseok and Sehun watch Luhan clear his plate and snag a fortune cookie before leaving the room, humming.
"Where does my cousin work?" Sehun asks eventually, a long green pepper dangling from between his teeth.
“A microbrewery.”
“A what?”
A soft chuckle. "You'll see."
The pepper snaps and Minseok really looks at him then, and finds himself wondering how Sehun's demeanor changes under the blanket of inebriation, if his eyelids turn heavy and his lips pry loose. He's a curious thing, this Sehun. Standoffish in his affections but endearing in all his hesitancies regardless. The thoughts hold him throughout the following week, tiny spun fantasies of a willowy boy with flushed cheeks and bad posture following him all the way to Friday.
ϟ
, Minseok thinks sadly as he looks around the bar. Black lacquered tables host groups of younger twenty-somethings, rowdy and chasing shots with specialty brews, stuffing their mouths with jalapeño finger food. Why is it so dark in here? Holy shit, I’m almost thirty.
“Hyung, I think I see him,” Sehun says from his right, and then there’s a strong hand wrapping around Minseok’s bicep, tugging. Sure enough, Luhan’s honey-blond head dips out of sight as they draw closer.
The female bartender spies them first, flags them down and sends Minseok a jaunty little wave. “Been a while since I’ve seen you around,” she calls over the din, eyes narrowed in pleasure. Thin eyebrows raise when her gaze shifts. “Who’s your pal? Looks a bit young for you, Minseok,” she teases.
Minseok awards her a tight smile. “Luhan around?”
Blowing ginger bangs off her forehead, the bartender says, “He’s in the back. Just a sec,” and flounces off.
Minseok chances a look up at Sehun, is again surprised at how far up he has to look, and sees him mouthing something slowly to himself. “You good?” Minseok asks, seating himself at a barstool.
“Huh?” Sehun’s mouth his still parted, lips a small dark o. He snaps back into focus. “Am I too... young? How old are you, hyung?”
“Too young?” Minseok parrots with a wheeze, and looks away from the way Sehun’s blond hair parts, strands sloping down to crest above his brow.
“He’s twenty-eight, you didn’t know? We’re the same age,” Luhan answers from out of nowhere, leaning his elbows onto the polished wood of the bartop. “Don’t let his face fool you, I’m pretty sure the hair at his temples has started to gray.”
“You’re one to talk,” Minseok huffs. “I could stick pennies in your crow’s feet.”
A startled burst of laughter has Sehun bending his head down slightly, hand cupped over his mouth. Minseok sends him a wry grin, Luhan levels a glare in his direction.
“Well these old hyungs are your only company right now so-” Luhan hefts up two perfectly-poured pints of summer ale, places them on black cocktail napkins in front of the pair. “Cheers to that, I guess.”
Sehun, mouth still curled with laughter, raises his glass. “Cheers.” He looks down to Minseok and finds the other staring and so he smiles, eyes bright. Minseok smiles back.
If Sehun were anyone else, it would be too easy. Minseok can feel the handsome grin plastered to his face as he leans his head closer, shifts until their knees brush. And it’s not like he’s alone, he knows attraction when he sees it (and he sees it in the way Sehun turns his body to face him, how he overreaches to fix Minseok’s hair and Minseok winds up with his nose pressed to smooth skin of Sehun’s bare neck). But every few minutes Luhan drops by, refills their glasses, lingers, distracts Minseok from a shiny face and youthful eyes and the oh-so-tempting way Sehun punctuates each sentence with a crooning hyung.
Faces tilted up to the swollen moon, light mist kisses their cheeks as they walk home. It’s hours past midnight and they walk unsteadily, leaning just slightly on one another for balance and failing, zagging across dark concrete and tripping over curbs. A dozen or so beers between the two of them means they don’t even notice Luhan’s nowhere to be found until they’re halfway home.
“He’s gotta stay to clean up,” Minseok says, hair slicked back with rain. He curls an arm around the lanky one next to his, fingers tapping and sliding until they curl around Sehun’s palm. He tugs, says “Come on.”
They give up once they make it to the living room, fall onto the deep couch together but lie apart, one body curled against each arm with feet tangled loosely in the middle, Sehun’s knees hanging over the edge.
“Hyung,” Sehun calls out after a passage of quiet, toes digging into the cushion, “you awake?” The moon glows in through the window, a cool purple light that rounds over Minseok cheek when Sehun sits up to get a better look. It’s no longer Friday but they haven’t slept yet, and Sehun wants to push his luck.
His little nudge is met with a grunt.
“Hyung?” Sehun leans over, hand braced against the back of the couch. He watches a blue shadow flit over Minseok’s neck, the gentle slope of a dark pink cupid’s bow, but misses the way Minseok peers up at him through narrowed eyes.
“You gonna kiss me, kid? Or are you just gonna sit there?”
Sehun jumps, sits back on his heels guiltily. “Huh?”
Minseok sits up then, elbow resting on his knee as he cards fingers through his hair. “Come here.”
When Sehun edges forwards Minseok drags him closer with a hand in his collar. Minseok presses their lips together softly, entrenches them in the dark silence of the empty house before pulling away. He brushes their mouths together again, lightly, Sehun’s bottom lip catching on his smile. “Still just gonna sit there?” Minseok poses, before easing Sehun onto his back and settling over him.
“Minseok-hyung,” Sehun starts, pulse jumping when Minseok slides lips over his throat. “I…”
Minseok straddles him, one hand steady on Sehun’s chest as he leans back to look down. Sehun’s bangs have flopped back off his forehead and his eyelids look promisingly heavy, lips pushed out in a curious pout. Minseok blinks away the lethargic haze of alcohol and noses over Sehun’s Adam’s apple, works the skin along a slim jaw with his teeth. “Hmmm?”
Sehun clears his throat, seems to change his mind by the time they’re face-to-face again. Instead he says, “Don’t you think we should move? Bedroom?”
“Mm, no,” says Minseok, voice low and hushed as he kisses Sehun’s lips swollen, laps at the inside of his mouth with a hand pressed to his fair cheek. “I want you right here.”
“Okay,” Sehun stutters between kisses, fingers curling over Minseok’s shoulder. “But, Minseok-hyung, I-”
“Sehun,” Minseok soothes, hand sliding down Sehun’s ribcage to lift up the hem of his shirt. “You’re a talkative drunk, aren’t you? Let’s fix that.” He plucks Sehun’s shirt and drags it up until the edge folds over Sehun’s chin.
Sehun draws it into his mouth slowly, a crease appearing between his brows.
“Much better,” Minseok sighs, and inches down to bring the hot touch of his mouth to Sehun’s narrow torso. He unzips Sehun’s shorts while kissing his stomach, and when he pulls up to slide the fabric off long legs he pauses to leave a kiss mark on the back of Sehun’s knee, a mottled dark plum patch just above the crease. He flicks his tongue along Sehun’s inner thigh before rocking back up, letting Sehun fold legs around his waist. .
Sehun’s shirt is still up beneath his armpits, cotton tucked into his mouth, and Minseok takes a moment to admire his long body, counts the heartbeats he feels beneath his palm as he runs it from a smooth chest and over a soft belly to the edge of lightning bolt boxers. He runs a fingertip in circles around Sehun’s bellybutton and bites his lip when he feels the muscles tense beneath his touch.
Luhan’s gonna kill me, Minseok thinks, with the cavalier absent-mindedness of the inebriated, and reaches down to cup Sehun through his starchy, printed underwear.
Sehun shudders, moans a weak, muffled yes, and hastily spits the fabric out of his mouth as Minseok brings their faces back together. They grind on the couch just like that, warm breath spilling from their mouths in the form of quiet groans, leather squeaking with every rock of Minseok’s hips and each slide of Sehun’s bare skin against the cushion.
“Oh,” Sehun breathes, arms looped around Minseok’s neck, eyes shut tight. Minseok worms his hand further beneath the band of Sehun’s boxers, grasps his length firmly in hand. He squeezes with every dry pull, foreskin sliding, and Sehun gasps out a pained “Oh my God,” thighs tense and lifting. He comes quickly, shallow breaths loud in the big room and heels digging into Minseok’s spine, cock pulsing in a tight fist.
He’s dizzy when Minseok lets go, wipes a slick hand on the front of his yellow boxers. Sehun waits a moment, swallowing oxygen in greedy mouthfuls, before tilting his head to tease Minseok’s earlobe between his teeth, hand slipping downwards to unbuckle Minseok’s belt. He doesn’t bother pulling the jeans down, just unzips them and makes for his prize.
Sehun likes that Minseok is quiet, breath hitching only after Sehun works fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and wraps them fast around the base of his cock. He’s hot and thick against Sehun’s wrist and Sehun tugs slowly, pulls away from the suction of Minseok’s lips on his tongue and spits into his other palm to slicken the drag. Minseok pushes his hips into the circle of his fingers and grunts, falls to rest his weight on an elbow planted near Sehun’s shoulder. His forehead knocks against Sehun’s shoulder when he comes, arms flexing as he spills inside his jeans.
Sehun waits until they’ve both regained their breath before waving sticky fingers beneath Minseok’s nose and grinning childishly. Then, reaching up with the clean hand, he brushes Minseok’s hair back, watches him closely in the dark. After rolling a few letters around on his tongue, Sehun says, “T-G-I-F?”
He’s unprepared for Minseok’s laughter, but laughs along with him anyway.
“Mhm,” Minseok hums once they quiet, kissing Sehun soundly enough to have Sehun’s eyes slipping closed again. “Thank God, indeed.”
Author's note: ah, this is not as involved as i would have liked but i hope you enjoy it all the same :)
Recipient: sarawt
Pairing: Xiumin/Sehun
Rating: nc17
Word count: 4,700
Summary: The arrival of a new houseguest gives Minseok an even greater reason to look forward to the end of the work week.
He doesn’t make it home before it starts to rain.
Thin purple clouds wring themselves dry, a late-Spring shower to speckle the faces of old stone buildings cast in sunset hues. It was warm in the office today and the rain is cool on his skin, so Minseok slows his pace, lingers on street corners even when the light is red. He dips into the café on the next block to grab a muffin instead, lemon poppy seed, moist cake that crumbles soft between his teeth. He nibbles on it a bit as he hurtles down the stairs to the subway, tiny black seeds dotting the line of his gums.
He rides the train down and then across, hip-checking equally weary strangers each time the tin car jerks to a stop, muffin now squished and forgotten at the bottom of the briefcase he keeps wedged between his feet. He’s distracted, sucking his teeth and thinking of chicken delivery as he hops up the stairs at Clinton Ave, forgets about the rain until he’s jogging out into it, a deluge of rainwater soaking right through his white dress shirt.
“Shit,” he mutters, and sets off down the block, ducking beneath awnings.
Minseok rounds the corner to his street and the familiar brownstones that line the sidewalk are dark and damp, the clouds overhead bloated and thick with the promise of more wet weather. The adobe brick of his own building looks horribly muddied but it’s a welcome sight, and Minseok nearly trips over himself getting inside.
“This weather,” he calls out loudly, one hand braced against the wall as he bends to slip off his loafers. “Ridiculous. Came out of nowhere!”
Minseok pads into the the entryway, socked feet sliding quickly on even wood panels, and drops his briefcase in the corner by the umbrella stand.
“Luhan?” Minseok peers into the kitchen, where his flatmate can usually be found stocking Friday take-homes from work in the fridge but-it’s empty. The track lights on the ceiling are on but, upon further inspection, the fridge is lacking its usual variety of perennial brews. Even so, Minseok takes a plain lager from the door on his way out.
“Luhan?” he calls again as he wanders to the adjacent room, mouth of the bottle pressed to his lips. “Are you home-” Minseok loses his footing in the doorway to the living room, apprehension catching him off guard, gooseflesh rising over his skin in waves.
Squeezed into the corner is Minseok’s favorite fat leather Lazyboy. In it sits a stranger.
“Who are you?”
The lighting in the living room is dim but the summer sun has yet to fall, and so light from the bay window settles around the intruder’s head in a halo of pale yellow. The stranger takes up a lot of room in the chair, Minseok notes, fingers tightening around the neck of his beer bottle. But their limbs are thin, young-looking, too lanky. A better look, and he realizes their hair is actually just pale yellow. Kids, Minseok thinks derisively, edging through the doorway.
“Who are you?” is the answering question. A thin voice around a thick tongue, slightly husky. Equal parts defensive and uneasy through awkwardly lilting English.
It’s confusing more than it is rude, and Minseok bristles. “I don’t know who you are kid, but you need to get the fuck out of my house.” He frowns when the boy blinks at him.
“Your... house?” The boy squints and his mouth drops open, but he makes no move to get out of the recliner.
“Yes, my house.” Minseok forgets that his shirt is still sodden until it starts clinging to his body as he tenses. “You done?” he snaps, one eyebrow raised. “Because if you are, I’m calling the cops. This is ridiculous. The second time in six months! Luhan needs to stop leaving the fucking door unlocked, he’s lucky we-”
There is a bellow of “Yoooo yo yo,” and suddenly the roommate in question is careening down the stairs, hopping up to slide down the bannister when he reaches halfway. The railing had been recently polished. It squeaks beneath his ass as he glides down. He’s in sweats and there’s a towel around his neck, wet hair curling against the terrycloth. “Oh! So you two met already,” he says beaming, the shine of his teeth cutting right through the tension in the air. He moves across the room quickly. “Good!”
“Oh.” Minseok chokes, voice high with disbelief, “Luhan, I swear. If this is another one of your-”
“I-” The boy stands up but is pulled back by Luhan’s hand around his bicep.
“Minseok! This is my cousin, he just flew in from Seoul,” Luhan says around a laugh before turning to the boy beside him. “Greet him,” he hisses, slapping the kid’s back. “You can do it in Korean, if you want. Be polite.”
The kid’s eyes widen briefly and he sweeps them down Minseok’s body before bowing slightly. He licks his lips as he stands straight, and he’s a lot taller than he’d seemed, stretching a good length above Luhan’s head. He has a perfect, high nose and a heavyset brow, and Minseok stares.
“Uh, hello. I’m Sehun. Nice to meet you. Thank you for giving-thank you for letting me live with you.”
Sehun’s English is halting but definitely understandable. It’s not what has Minseok is so confused.
“People say we look alike, but we’re only cousins through marriage ‘cause my mom-what?” Luhan asks, smile sliding off his face as he looks across to his roommate. He pouts. “Why? You have that face on.”
“Face?” Minseok asks breathlessly, cheeks reddening along with his vision. The kid’s words are a hideous echo in his ears, an speeding spiral that stiffens his spine. Thank you for letting me live with you, thank you for letting me live with you letting me live with you thankyouforlettingme live with you- “What face.”
Luhan chuckles uneasily. “I like to call it the What The Fuck Have You Done, Luhan™ face? You know, the one that looks vaguely murderous but underneath is actually super loving and like, full of love. For me.”
Minseok swallows dry a few times before taking a long swig of beer. And then another. He drains the bottle. When he’s finished he sighs, places the empty glass on the TV stand.
“So,” he starts, clasping his hands together in front of him. His eyes turn up as a menacing smile blooms across his face, upper lip peeling back over high gums. “You have a cousin!”
“Wait, okay,” Luhan starts, hands held up in front of him. He pauses, and then shrinks behind his cousin’s tall frame. “I could’ve sworn I told you!”
“Hm, no.”
“Okay but Sehun’s really quiet. Right, Sehun?” He nudges the kid, jostles him around and waits until Sehun nods before continuing. “You won’t even notice he’s here!”
“And how long?” Minseok asks, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How long will your cousin be staying with us?”
“Not even that long!” Luhan placates earnestly. “Just like-” he starts counting off on his fingers and blanches when he sees Minseok’s glare. “A little while,” he finishes weakly.
“I can-will get a job,” Sehun interrupts, voice ringing earnest, forehead rumpled as he tries to follow their conversation.
“Urgh, no that’s not even-don’t bother,” Minseok replies in Korean, and feels awkward immediately afterwards when he sees Sehun’s forehead wrinkle, a defeated slump curving his broad shoulders. He shouldn’t take it out on the kid, it’s not Sehun’s fault his cousin is such a-
Shaking his head, Minseok turns to Luhan. “He can stay in the guest bedroom.”
Luhan zips to his side, pulls Minseok into a swift bro-hug. “See! I knew you’d do the right thing. It’ll be great, just wait. We can show him all over and take him to all the best spots.”
I’m not a tour guide, Minseok thinks tersely, shrugging out of Luhan’s hold. “I’m not a tour guide,” he grumbles out loud, but his face has relaxed some, and sends Luhan’s cousin what he hopes is an encouraging smile.
“Dude, you’re the best,” Luhan continues, flinging his body back on top of his friend’s. “Sehun!” he tosses a look back of his shoulder to where his cousin stands, mostly confused, on the other side of the low coffee table. “Sehun you’re gonna love him, you guys are gonna get along great!” Then he peels himself away, looks down again.
Minseok’s nostrils flare at the wolf whistle he hears, and he grinds his teeth in embarrassment when he sees how his shirt is translucent and plastered to his torso.
Luhan snickers and pinches Minseok’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Wet t-shirt concert at the office today?”
“Casual Friday,” Minseok says blandly, dismissively, and shuffles off to his bedroom. He needs another drink, but first a change of clothes.
“You’re seriously the best, Minseok! Don’t know what I’d do without you!” Luhan hollers after him, dragging his cousin over and pulling him into a loose headlock. To his cousin he says, “Minseok hates surprises but you came on a good day-thank God it’s a Friday, seriously.” He gives Sehun a once-over. “Plus you’re lucky you’re handsome.”
ϟ
It's awkward at first. Suddenly there's an extra body orbiting the kitchen island in the mornings, another mouth to feed. There's more laundry in the hamper-boxers dotted with sweet green shamrocks and a pair of small briefs with bluebirds warbling into the folds, and Minseok doesn't think that at any point in his own life has there been such an array of colors printed so near his crotch. There's a third toothbrush, moody orange with a ribbed spot for the thumb, upright in the cup by the sink, frayed bristles kissing the edge.
However Sehun, true to his cousin's word, is quiet as a mouse. Minseok isn’t sure if it’s because Sehun’s general demeanor is sheepish (he doesn’t think so; he’s heard Sehun jabbering away on the phone, words quick and biting and dirty; he’s felt Sehun’s gaze on him, piercing and judgemental) or perhaps the boy’s just uncomfortable in his new home, but supposes it isn’t really any of his business. And the kid’s attractive, sure-good-looking in a way that leaves Minseok grudgingly scatterbrained-but he’s still just a kid. Oily cream skin with spots and the earnest shadow of hair above an upper lip pursed in perpetual disdain. Plus Minseok hardly sees him during the week anyway, his Monday-through-Thursday a rather colorless affair.
But when Minseok comes home every Friday, shoulders tight from a long week and head hanging heavy, it’s always to find Sehun dressed in loose clothing and those rainbow socks with the individual toes, leaning back against a kitchen counter and munching on gochu peppers. He fields Minseok's uninspired inquiries about his school, his studies, his home with a look of polite disinterest, but Minseok gets the feeling Sehun appreciates the conversation.
"Summer classes start in two weeks," Sehun's saying, Korean fast on his tongue, tone bland but words rounded over the food in his mouth.
Minseok hums, opens and closes and opens the fridge door with the hope that dinner will miraculously appear. "Luhan said at Pratt, right? What are you studying while you're here?"
"Um. Well actually I-"
"Excuse me," says Luhan loudly, rudely, sweeping into the kitchen just as he sweeps his bangs up into a tiny bun. "What did we agree on the other night, Sehun?"
Sehun face pulls down gloomily. "English at home."
Luhan’s eyebrows arc in a pitying way. "Just trying to help you out, man. It'll be worth it in the long run. You'll be fluent in no time.
"But why can't I-just with Minseok-hyung-"
"Total emersion!" Luhan crowes. "It's all or nothing.” He hums a tune, peeks over Minseok’s shoulder into the empty refrigerator. “All Or Nothing. Hey, isn't that a song?"
“You’re thinking of Bet On It,” Sehun replies easily, voice haughty. The queer look Minseok shoots him has Sehun ducking his head.
“Uh High School Musical 2, Minseok,” Luhan snaps, slapping his roommate on the back. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve seen it, Cali boy. You’re no better than the rest of us.”
"I-” Minseok stops. “At least let him call me hyung.”
“Thank you, um. Hyung,” says Sehun quietly, almost to himself, while they walk side-by-side on their way back from picking up dinner.
Minseok shoves his hands into his pockets and watches the busy pendulum swinging of Sehun’s arms, yellow takeout bag handles crinkling in each fist. “You can speak Korean if Luhan’s not around,” he says eventually, eyes twinkling. “I won’t tell.”
“No, it’s okay. I should uhmmm. Practice.”
Minseok says, around a proud grin, “Well I’m here if you need help.”
ϟ
“So,” Minseok begins, popping lids off of the takeaway containers. Another Friday, another home-cooked, white-picket-fence family dinner. “What was it you said you major in, Sehun?”
Freshly showered, Minseok’s bangs press wetly to his forehead and his tank is slightly clingy, but he feels significantly more relaxed, a harried afternoon bleeding into a slow evening. Across from him Luhan’s settled into his usual dining posture, foot planted on the seat of the chair and elbow resting atop a bent knee as he shovels rice into his gullet straight from the box. Minseok regards Luhan through squinted eyes when the other burps mid-reach for more chicken, greedy pale fingers crawling through the air.
“Did you not eat today?”
Luhan shakes his head, teeth sinking into white meat. “Nah.” Food garbles his voice, and he jerks a greasy chin up as sauce spills down. “Busy day. T-G-I-F.”
“T-G-I-F?” Sehun questions, sliding his takeout chopsticks out of their paper sleeve. He grimaces when they snap apart unevenly.
Minseok opens his mouth to reply but then pauses, wordlessly gets up to retrieve a stainless steel pair from the cup by the sink. He waves away Sehun’s thanks.
“Thank God It’s Friday,” Luhan answers, wiping his entire face down with a napkin (better safe than sorry).
“Ah.” Sehun nods to himself. “Because now you can go crazy? Bulgeum?”
That has Minseok chuckling, teeth bright in his smile. “No, not quite Fire Friday. Not anymore, at least.”
Luhan snorts, points his chopsticks rudely in Minseok’s direction. “You shoulda seen him in his prime-”
“Nope,” Minseok interrupts swiftly. “We’re not going there.”
After a bite of silence Sehun says, “Photography.”
“Huh?”
“I’m here to study photography. I think I want to change schools?”
“Oh, you’re looking to transfer?” Minseok asks, slightly surprised. He looks across the table to where Luhan’s looking determinedly down at his own plate. “Long term?”
Sehun looks puzzled. “Long term?”
“Minseok went to Pratt too, ya’know,” Luhan says suddenly, too loud for the kitchen. “Isn’t that right?”
Long term. Minseok can feel the weight of Sehun’s stare and so he turns to face him. “Mhm. Graduate school. Urban design.”
Sehun fiddles with his chopsticks. “What do you do now?”
“I work at a firm in Manhattan.”
“Is it difficult?” He sounds almost worried.
“I do mostly interiors-rethinking existing spaces and the urban landscape on a more immediate level. Because everyone knows New York doesn’t need another building.” His lips pull up at the corners, a fledgling smile at Sehun’s blank look. “Uhm, but difficult isn’t the right word. I’m not sure what is, but it’s definitely rewarding.”
“Oh.” Sehun’s expression grows from indifferent to impressed as he pieces it together. “Ohh. Hyung, that’s really cool.”
Minseok feels himself flush for some reason, heat building on the back of his neck and clogging his ears. He shrugs. “It’s a job.”
Luhan looks between them carefully and then says to his roommate, “You’re too modest.” He turns to his cousin, drumstick dangling from two fingers. “Minseok’s like, the best of the best. I mean, hell-oooo, have you seen our home?” He waves a hand around his head to indicate the brownstone’s sprawling, modern interior, as though Sehun had only arrived just today and not three weeks prior.
Sehun’s eyes widen. “You made this?”
Minseok sends Luhan a fast glare. “Just touched up some things here-and-there-”
“Stop lying,” Luhan whines, “it was forever until we could move in. You had to make sure everything was perfect-”
“Well it is, isn’t it?” Minseok replies, one eyebrow arched cooly. “Sehun you should go with Luhan to work one day. Now that’s a cool job.”
Sehun looks slightly lost, pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Uh?”
“You haven’t brought him yet?” Minseok tsks. “And here you were saying how you were going to bring him around to all the hot spots.”
“Heyyyy, I’ve taken him to lots of places! Sunday we walked the bridge-oh and Wednesday we went to MoSex.” Luhan scratches his chin thoughtfully. “But coming to the brewery? Mmm, how about tomorrow? No. Hmm, next week? Next Friday? I’ve got the late shift then."
Minseok doesn't realize he's supposed to reply until it goes quiet, two pairs of beseeching eyes locked onto his face. He says, "What?"
"So you'll bring him by?" Luhan asks innocently, scooping up the last of his rice.
"Me?” He glances quickly in Sehun’s direction. “I... um?" Slowly, daydreams of a quiet Friday night dissipate like blue smoke from a fire.
It's not a direct no, and Luhan knows Minseok is courteous to a fault, so he pounces. "Awesome. Come through around ten?"
Minseok and Sehun watch Luhan clear his plate and snag a fortune cookie before leaving the room, humming.
"Where does my cousin work?" Sehun asks eventually, a long green pepper dangling from between his teeth.
“A microbrewery.”
“A what?”
A soft chuckle. "You'll see."
The pepper snaps and Minseok really looks at him then, and finds himself wondering how Sehun's demeanor changes under the blanket of inebriation, if his eyelids turn heavy and his lips pry loose. He's a curious thing, this Sehun. Standoffish in his affections but endearing in all his hesitancies regardless. The thoughts hold him throughout the following week, tiny spun fantasies of a willowy boy with flushed cheeks and bad posture following him all the way to Friday.
ϟ
, Minseok thinks sadly as he looks around the bar. Black lacquered tables host groups of younger twenty-somethings, rowdy and chasing shots with specialty brews, stuffing their mouths with jalapeño finger food. Why is it so dark in here? Holy shit, I’m almost thirty.
“Hyung, I think I see him,” Sehun says from his right, and then there’s a strong hand wrapping around Minseok’s bicep, tugging. Sure enough, Luhan’s honey-blond head dips out of sight as they draw closer.
The female bartender spies them first, flags them down and sends Minseok a jaunty little wave. “Been a while since I’ve seen you around,” she calls over the din, eyes narrowed in pleasure. Thin eyebrows raise when her gaze shifts. “Who’s your pal? Looks a bit young for you, Minseok,” she teases.
Minseok awards her a tight smile. “Luhan around?”
Blowing ginger bangs off her forehead, the bartender says, “He’s in the back. Just a sec,” and flounces off.
Minseok chances a look up at Sehun, is again surprised at how far up he has to look, and sees him mouthing something slowly to himself. “You good?” Minseok asks, seating himself at a barstool.
“Huh?” Sehun’s mouth his still parted, lips a small dark o. He snaps back into focus. “Am I too... young? How old are you, hyung?”
“Too young?” Minseok parrots with a wheeze, and looks away from the way Sehun’s blond hair parts, strands sloping down to crest above his brow.
“He’s twenty-eight, you didn’t know? We’re the same age,” Luhan answers from out of nowhere, leaning his elbows onto the polished wood of the bartop. “Don’t let his face fool you, I’m pretty sure the hair at his temples has started to gray.”
“You’re one to talk,” Minseok huffs. “I could stick pennies in your crow’s feet.”
A startled burst of laughter has Sehun bending his head down slightly, hand cupped over his mouth. Minseok sends him a wry grin, Luhan levels a glare in his direction.
“Well these old hyungs are your only company right now so-” Luhan hefts up two perfectly-poured pints of summer ale, places them on black cocktail napkins in front of the pair. “Cheers to that, I guess.”
Sehun, mouth still curled with laughter, raises his glass. “Cheers.” He looks down to Minseok and finds the other staring and so he smiles, eyes bright. Minseok smiles back.
If Sehun were anyone else, it would be too easy. Minseok can feel the handsome grin plastered to his face as he leans his head closer, shifts until their knees brush. And it’s not like he’s alone, he knows attraction when he sees it (and he sees it in the way Sehun turns his body to face him, how he overreaches to fix Minseok’s hair and Minseok winds up with his nose pressed to smooth skin of Sehun’s bare neck). But every few minutes Luhan drops by, refills their glasses, lingers, distracts Minseok from a shiny face and youthful eyes and the oh-so-tempting way Sehun punctuates each sentence with a crooning hyung.
Faces tilted up to the swollen moon, light mist kisses their cheeks as they walk home. It’s hours past midnight and they walk unsteadily, leaning just slightly on one another for balance and failing, zagging across dark concrete and tripping over curbs. A dozen or so beers between the two of them means they don’t even notice Luhan’s nowhere to be found until they’re halfway home.
“He’s gotta stay to clean up,” Minseok says, hair slicked back with rain. He curls an arm around the lanky one next to his, fingers tapping and sliding until they curl around Sehun’s palm. He tugs, says “Come on.”
They give up once they make it to the living room, fall onto the deep couch together but lie apart, one body curled against each arm with feet tangled loosely in the middle, Sehun’s knees hanging over the edge.
“Hyung,” Sehun calls out after a passage of quiet, toes digging into the cushion, “you awake?” The moon glows in through the window, a cool purple light that rounds over Minseok cheek when Sehun sits up to get a better look. It’s no longer Friday but they haven’t slept yet, and Sehun wants to push his luck.
His little nudge is met with a grunt.
“Hyung?” Sehun leans over, hand braced against the back of the couch. He watches a blue shadow flit over Minseok’s neck, the gentle slope of a dark pink cupid’s bow, but misses the way Minseok peers up at him through narrowed eyes.
“You gonna kiss me, kid? Or are you just gonna sit there?”
Sehun jumps, sits back on his heels guiltily. “Huh?”
Minseok sits up then, elbow resting on his knee as he cards fingers through his hair. “Come here.”
When Sehun edges forwards Minseok drags him closer with a hand in his collar. Minseok presses their lips together softly, entrenches them in the dark silence of the empty house before pulling away. He brushes their mouths together again, lightly, Sehun’s bottom lip catching on his smile. “Still just gonna sit there?” Minseok poses, before easing Sehun onto his back and settling over him.
“Minseok-hyung,” Sehun starts, pulse jumping when Minseok slides lips over his throat. “I…”
Minseok straddles him, one hand steady on Sehun’s chest as he leans back to look down. Sehun’s bangs have flopped back off his forehead and his eyelids look promisingly heavy, lips pushed out in a curious pout. Minseok blinks away the lethargic haze of alcohol and noses over Sehun’s Adam’s apple, works the skin along a slim jaw with his teeth. “Hmmm?”
Sehun clears his throat, seems to change his mind by the time they’re face-to-face again. Instead he says, “Don’t you think we should move? Bedroom?”
“Mm, no,” says Minseok, voice low and hushed as he kisses Sehun’s lips swollen, laps at the inside of his mouth with a hand pressed to his fair cheek. “I want you right here.”
“Okay,” Sehun stutters between kisses, fingers curling over Minseok’s shoulder. “But, Minseok-hyung, I-”
“Sehun,” Minseok soothes, hand sliding down Sehun’s ribcage to lift up the hem of his shirt. “You’re a talkative drunk, aren’t you? Let’s fix that.” He plucks Sehun’s shirt and drags it up until the edge folds over Sehun’s chin.
Sehun draws it into his mouth slowly, a crease appearing between his brows.
“Much better,” Minseok sighs, and inches down to bring the hot touch of his mouth to Sehun’s narrow torso. He unzips Sehun’s shorts while kissing his stomach, and when he pulls up to slide the fabric off long legs he pauses to leave a kiss mark on the back of Sehun’s knee, a mottled dark plum patch just above the crease. He flicks his tongue along Sehun’s inner thigh before rocking back up, letting Sehun fold legs around his waist. .
Sehun’s shirt is still up beneath his armpits, cotton tucked into his mouth, and Minseok takes a moment to admire his long body, counts the heartbeats he feels beneath his palm as he runs it from a smooth chest and over a soft belly to the edge of lightning bolt boxers. He runs a fingertip in circles around Sehun’s bellybutton and bites his lip when he feels the muscles tense beneath his touch.
Luhan’s gonna kill me, Minseok thinks, with the cavalier absent-mindedness of the inebriated, and reaches down to cup Sehun through his starchy, printed underwear.
Sehun shudders, moans a weak, muffled yes, and hastily spits the fabric out of his mouth as Minseok brings their faces back together. They grind on the couch just like that, warm breath spilling from their mouths in the form of quiet groans, leather squeaking with every rock of Minseok’s hips and each slide of Sehun’s bare skin against the cushion.
“Oh,” Sehun breathes, arms looped around Minseok’s neck, eyes shut tight. Minseok worms his hand further beneath the band of Sehun’s boxers, grasps his length firmly in hand. He squeezes with every dry pull, foreskin sliding, and Sehun gasps out a pained “Oh my God,” thighs tense and lifting. He comes quickly, shallow breaths loud in the big room and heels digging into Minseok’s spine, cock pulsing in a tight fist.
He’s dizzy when Minseok lets go, wipes a slick hand on the front of his yellow boxers. Sehun waits a moment, swallowing oxygen in greedy mouthfuls, before tilting his head to tease Minseok’s earlobe between his teeth, hand slipping downwards to unbuckle Minseok’s belt. He doesn’t bother pulling the jeans down, just unzips them and makes for his prize.
Sehun likes that Minseok is quiet, breath hitching only after Sehun works fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and wraps them fast around the base of his cock. He’s hot and thick against Sehun’s wrist and Sehun tugs slowly, pulls away from the suction of Minseok’s lips on his tongue and spits into his other palm to slicken the drag. Minseok pushes his hips into the circle of his fingers and grunts, falls to rest his weight on an elbow planted near Sehun’s shoulder. His forehead knocks against Sehun’s shoulder when he comes, arms flexing as he spills inside his jeans.
Sehun waits until they’ve both regained their breath before waving sticky fingers beneath Minseok’s nose and grinning childishly. Then, reaching up with the clean hand, he brushes Minseok’s hair back, watches him closely in the dark. After rolling a few letters around on his tongue, Sehun says, “T-G-I-F?”
He’s unprepared for Minseok’s laughter, but laughs along with him anyway.
“Mhm,” Minseok hums once they quiet, kissing Sehun soundly enough to have Sehun’s eyes slipping closed again. “Thank God, indeed.”
Author's note: ah, this is not as involved as i would have liked but i hope you enjoy it all the same :)